#is this any good? I don't know...

[fishyvamp]

18+ NSFW MDNI mind the tags

You whimpered as the S.C.R.E.A.M unit pinned you down. It's gears whirling and whining as it ground into you. It was strange in how it was like it was seeking gratification in a sexual way. Rubbing where it's dick would be against the curve of your ass. You clenched your fist, teeth gritted heavily, the scent of fresh oil you had just applied to it's joints in the air of the workshop. This must've been some sick joke someone was playing on you. Maybe some kind of hazing ritual to welcome the new technician.

"You got a boyfriend?" The bot seemed to tease. It's icy mechanical hand pressing against your throat pulling you flush against it's cold frame. The coveralls you wore doing very little to protect you. You could feel a scream building in your throat as none of this made sense. It had walked in of it's own free will, or at least the equivalent of free will for a android, requesting maintenance and when you had finished diagnosis everything was clear; No anomalies, not even signs of code tampering, yet when the bot was turned back on it began behaving unnaturally. All you knew for sure is If you made it out of this alive you will be looking through its code piece by piece to find out who tampered with your unit. Surely there would be a digital signature in there. Something to indicate who last touched the code.

"Stop!" You screamed out feeling it's other hand beginning to palm the front of your pants, "initiate command slash S!" The kill phrase coming out desperate the bolder it got practically crushing you against the table; it's hips picking up speed. Before stuttering to a stop, grip loosening just enough for you to slide out; breathing heavily you clutched your chest looking up at the machine that had you caged just moment ago. The fact that it didn't halt right away felt a bit unnerving but the nightmare was over. Clawing at the rough sandpaper like carpet you moved into the light of your dimly lit office. It felt like an eternity as you begged yourself to calm down long enough to plug in the diagnostic computer.

Your eyes shut tightly, you count backwards from ten, listening to the clicks and beeps as it dug whatever info it could, name after name appearing on the screen before you. The unit behaved too purposely to be a true malfunction. Your eyes darting across the screen, the only name catching your eye was that of Danny Johnson. You had to think on why that name sounded familiar despite no one currently working in your shop with that name. Who was Danny? Maybe it was a placeholder name?

It wouldn't be till later that you'd realize Danny was the name of the technician who was killed by a S.C.R.E.A.M unit a year earlier, that in of itself would explain the name, thinking maybe someone in your shop got ahold of his old login information to prank you... It wasn't unusual for the company to not care about removing the permissions of the dead. At least that was until discovering that Danny was the only deceased employee to have their profile completely removed from the system. Even his past work history and general employee file was completely null, as if he never existed. Not even old logs were accessible.

You know he was real the older employees talked about how sweet he was, how he could charm the pants off just about anyone. Well loved and respected, but he didn't exist according to the system. So how the hell did someone use Danny Johnson's information to modify code? Danny doesn't have authorization. Danny shouldn't be able to modify code. Danny technically doesn't exist. So why does it say "Danny wants you"?

[inkskinned]

this is just my opinion but i think any good media needs obsession behind it. it needs passion, the kind of passion that's no longer "gentle scented candle" and is now "oh shit the house caught on fire". it needs a creator that's biting the floorboards and gnawing the story off their skin. creators are supposed to be wild animals. they are supposed to want to tell a story with the ferocity of eating a good stone fruit while standing over the sink. the same protective, strange instinct as being 7 and making mud potions in pink teacups: you gotta get weird with it.

good media needs unhinged, googling-at-midnight kind of energy. it needs "what kind of seams are invented on this planet" energy and "im just gonna trust the audience to roll with me about this" energy. it needs one person (at least) screaming into the void with so much drive and energy that it forces the story to be real.

sometimes people are baffled when fanfic has some stunning jaw-dropping tattoo-it-on-you lines. and i'm like - well, i don't go here, but that makes sense to me. of fucking course people who have this amount of passion are going to create something good. they moved from a place of genuine love and enjoyment.

so yeah, duh! saturday cartoons have banger lines. random street art is sometimes the most precious heart-wrenching shit you've ever seen. someone singing on tiktok ends up creating your next favorite song. youtubers are giving us 5 hours of carefully researched content. all of this is the impossible equation to latestage capitalism. like, you can't force something to be good. AI cannot make it good. no amount of focus-group testing or market research. what makes a story worth listening to is that someone cares so much about telling it - through dance, art, music, whatever it takes - that they are just a little unhinged about it.

one time my friend told me he stayed up all night researching how many ways there are to peel an orange. he wrote me a poem that made me cry on public transportation. the love came through it like pith, you know? the words all came apart in my hands. it tasted like breakfast.

[overlymetaromantic]

Dungeon Meshi, or as I like to call it, Marcille's-increasingly-difficult-to-ignore-revelations-that-her-endless-devotion-to-Falin-may-in-fact-be-more-rooted-in-lesbianism-than-she-originally-thought

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

HOT, SINGLE, UNSTUDIED SPONGES. 3000 NAUTICAL MILES AWAY. Come sail the distance and read Tiger Tiger!

[bixels]

this is coming from the position of a student, so don't take my word as gospel, but i want to strongly encourage people to prepare for the coming years and look outward to find communities in real life. this can be big like getting involved in fundraisers or organizations or small like going to poc/queer/art social spaces and talking to people. making friends and connections will help you and others build support networks, something you will need as we enter the new term. i know talking to strangers in real life can be scary, unfamiliar, or difficult (depending on where you live especially) and it may take a lot of compromising and work –– and i don't want to condescend –– but we have to try starting now. this is about your safety and welfare, as well as the most vulnerable people's.

if leftists/progressives/minorities want to survive and beat back what's coming, we need to do our work offline too and take up space. an example of getting involved would be (if you're an artist) reaching out to fundraising organizers and making prints of your artwork to donate for raising funds.

[what-am-i-doing-in-this-fandom]

Fic Idea where Fiddleford helps Stan rebuild the portal, but Stan finds out that Fiddleford has a wife and he's like

"You have a WIFE?? That DIDN'T marry you to steal your car and money???? What are you DOING here???"

"Yeah, well.... She's better off thinking I'm dead somewhere....."

"A WIFE. That LOVES you. Get outta here and go explain yourself, Idiot!!"

"She and our son shouldn't have to deal with--"

"YOUR SON???!!?!!??"

Anyways, so Stan helps Fiddleford reach out and explain himself to his wife, but expresses that he wants to keep being in Gravity Falls, so his wife and kid go to live with them in The Shack instead.

Blah blah blah, bonding happens, Stan bags Fiddleford AND his wife and becomes a step dad, God bless 🙏

[sykloni]

Dannymay 2023

15. Full Hazmat AU & 23. Rogue Gallery

[theabigailthorn]

British producers be like: THEM: "We love this! Let us put our heads together and get back to you early next week!" SIX MONTHS LATER UNPAID INTERN FOR THAT COMPANY: "Everyone you spoke to has been sacked, we hate you fuck off."

American producers be like:

THE MOST IMPORTANT PERSON YOU'VE EVER MET: Hey kiddo do you wanna meet The Rock? Do you wanna meet Margot Robbie? Do you want to fuck my wife? I can't give you a job but gosh darn it you've got moxxy, let me put you in touch with Doug Bigcheese, the biggest producer in Hollywood! DOUG BIGCHEESE, EMAILING YOU BACK WITHIN 20 MINUTES: Hey kiddo, that guy said you're awesome! Lemme ask round town and in the meantime you can live in my house borrow my car and by the way have you met my wife?!

[kazz-brekker]

tolkien's tendency to leave women off of family trees is annoying to me not just because it's an overall trend in fantasy novels that i wish wasn't a thing (to quote arya stark, the woman is important too!) but also because i desperately need to know who celebrimbor's mom was and which elf lady made the bold yet fantastically bad decision to marry into the house of feanor.

[buttercupshands]

can you even call it a warm up if I'm going to bed without drawing anything big

and a sketch I made while sitting in the park today

[be-queer-do-arson]

We NEED to talk more about Neil's escape from Columbia because I don't think anyone's fully appreciating just how unhinged it really was. Neil really hiked six miles along the freeway in the South Carolina summer heat, face bruised from being knocked out cold dressed like a homeless person carrying a big ass duffle bag and started strolling up to truck drivers like, "Hello there! I'm just a regular sociology student interviewing long haul truck drivers to learn about their culture! Would you allow me to interview you while you drive to your next stop?" And then he did in fact interview a truck driver AND take full notes like he was really doing a presentation on it. That is FERAL

[dokidoki-muffin]

DokiDoki Spice Warning 🧁💖🔥

Ayeeee I recently found out that there's an Ace Attorney collection for the Switch now!!!! So guess what I'm playing once again 🤣🥰✨👩‍⚖️ I'm still in the middle of the first one, I just couldn't suppress the urge to wreck a certain cutie pie 🤭🧐😝 (No text version under the cut ^^)

[inkskinned]

at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

[metatronhateblog]

Can't help but sometimes sit here and think about the rainbow above Aziraphale in the Job episode. What rainbow you might ask? This rainbow silly!

What's that you say? You don't see anything? Computer, enhance.

Still not seeing it? Let me adjust the contrast and saturation here a minute...

There it is. That little rainbow above our angel.

I spend an unnecessary amount of time thinking about him and his rainbow

[hawberries]

I have added: yet more ships to the MXTX bookmark catalogue :)

[silusvesuius]

baby👶 drawings. these are very dear to me rn.. 2nd pic is my Nelavis with @barvin0k's Varonur 🩵 last one is a baby bosmer and snow elf, hairiest of them all. although the bosmer was meant to be my girl Barletta too lols