#like we'd never be friends

[papermint-airplane]

Grace from Façade is my mortal enemy.

This statement will become relevant later.

[the-gayest-sky-kid]

god i love my friends. shout out to people who love their friends. this is a post for friend lovers

[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.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

waiting for marvel to take you up as their comic artist so that we can have amazing art with cherik official storyline

marvel hire me to draw professor x and magneto making out sloppy style for forty issues straight you will get a BAJILLION dollars i promise

[angellurgy2]

no one cares whether you die or not. no one cares whether your corpse is found or not. no one cares if you spend months being alone except for rape, no one cares if you've fallen so far you gotta live with the person who tore you apart to survive. you'll never have friends, only groomers and rapists and strangers who want to use you or hurt you and forget you. you're not good enough for the good ones who are actually like you, when you're a roach. you're good for those who prey on small, weak insects, and nothing else. you'll stay at the bottom until you're killed, because no one would ever want to know a roach. so you wait , and you wait, and you try to kill yourself, and you wait, and you hope every day some light will peer out of the dumpster to give you a reason to be normal again, to get away from rape and abuse for once in your life and be normal, and its tainted by the same confusion of non-humanism non-existing that contain your social barriers. and you try to kill yourself again, but you don't die, but you do, but you don't in a way that matters. you're a roach now, and there's nothing left down here for roaches. everyone else has left. you don't know what to do when all you've known is begging because no one could teach a roach how to speak like a person. roaches hurt, roaches struggle, roaches crawl for the last tab of valium through their own puke because it is the only thing that could save them when everything else has left them and all they are are the dumpsters and trash and abuse laid around them. and that's gross. so they never learn to speak. and stay alone. and then there's no more begging, and all there is is silent crying, silent pleading, hopeless trying for a thing of which you don't even know what. just knowing you couldve once deserved better than pain. and when you peer out from the trash at what you once had, what you could've had, had you been nice, kind, and smart enough to speak, nothings left of what was. every inch is razed to the ground so that even if you go back, even if you tried to get someone to like a roach, for the bits of you you've learned to love, you will always be in the dumpster, where everything hurts, and everything is isolated. and any self-love doesn't matter in the gutter. and no one can assume you'd do or want anything good, anymore. so you die alone again. and again. and again. and again. and again.

[imminent-danger-came]

The 1x00 AHiB -> 4x06 glowup

[shuuenka]

I got this headcanon that I imagine Jiyan being about 23 yo (in canon it's said he was general by age of 20 due to sudden promotion basically and that the war happened about 3 years ago, so i think that pretty much confirms he's pretty young. So 23 it is.)

And Aalto i think would be around 27/28. He just has this vibe and I imagine being information broker and getting where he is now took a little bit more time.

So Aalto I think has some relationship experience - but these are just flings and some casual fwb that don't last long, because he'd travel around a lot. While Jiyan gives vibe of not being in relationship at all before, too many things in rapid succession happened that he surely didn't have time for dating then, and now that he's general he doesn't really either.

So it's funny to think about flirty Aalto that gets flustered by Jiyan's serious sincerity. It's not how any of his previous relationships worked, never long time, so he himself has completely new experience of being wanted and loved this way. Then you have Jiyan who's just intense as he is with everything, even more so with his loved one.

[skunkes]

didn't know you were a dorm warrior cheye, how' was 'd you like the experience of living away from home?

(general) unfortunately i didnt have a cawr then, and also the kitchen was communal (and had the washer and dryer units in it) so I tried to avoid being spotted in there due to the Embarrassment and Shame of being alive, so it was really not too different than living at home where my room is my entire world...just a bit more quiet and peaceful loafing.

(specific) the college i attended is surrounded by water so was nice to walk around the few times I did. I saw Raccoon in person for the first time in my life ^_^ and many smunks and osprey, pelican my best friend pelican

[genekies]

tag vent

[megumi-fm]

.

[brynn-lear]

I never got too deep into enstars but there are days where I miss Mama 😔

[unproduciblesmackdown]

omgg lol [guy who won't stop going "more like scapeGOATED" voice] now hold! on!! lmao [same guy just saw encanto voice] Hold on!!!

[bitegore]

I've been watching Alan wake's American nightmare gameplay to try to sleep for a while now and. It keeps taking me completely by shock how much me and Mr scratch are the same fucking kind of thing. We even talk the fucking same. He even compared Alan to a rodent talking about putting him in a rap maze and making him run the same thing over and over and over because it entertains him to watch him struggle and fail and struggle and fail and struggle and fail over and over and over. He is just like me. The only difference is that I don't kill people. Because I don't want to go to jail. Like. The fuck actually

[morningmask27]

Tonight, right now, not even ten minutes ago, might have been the closest I got to an outright hatecrime

[cosmogenous]

good god girl get over it

[hella1975]

ive got an essay due at 3pm tomorrow and ive not even looked at it i am so so unserious about my degree and by the grace of some higher being i somehow keep managing to crawl through it's actually getting a bit funny