#lol what did they mean by this

[earlycuntsets]

11/11/2007 metro radio arena newcastle upon tyne england setlist - siobhan on x

12/01/2007 melbourne australia setlist - taleethersaurus on flickr

[bacchuschucklefuck]

typical tavern scene

[joshuamj]

Hero.

[brainrotcharacters]

TW: Wolverine Badonkas

I laughed rewatching because like

[artsymeeshee]

Still working on the family bonding montage pictures, but I wanted to show small previews of the finished ones! It’s taking a lot outta of me to not post them already because I really like them a lot but hopefully I’ll get the other 4 done soon!

[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.

[forgettable-au]

FORGETTABLE-AU (Page 61-64)

* I-I don't think we were talking about the same thing...

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[isjasz]

Bas les Masques pour un Soir

(Drop the Masks for One Night)

My first piece in @hotguycomiczine—Cover for @zipzapzooooooom's "Bas les Masques pour un Soir" in Golden Era ! Go read it if you haven't already :D

Also amazing title graphics by @cocoabats <3

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[ MERCH ] [ MISC ]

[bunnieswithknives]

Thanks.

Prev

[aterfish]

Deep inside me, I'm fading to black, I'm fading

[grandkhan221b]

Jon, my guy, I know you were having a moment but you didn't need to read that part out loud

[archiepelago]

alternate surface au inspired by a few ive seen around on tumblr :3

[hexesandroses]

This newfound idea that Silco took Powder in because she reminded him of Felicia makes me wanna gouge my eyes out. I'm sorry for being harsh, I guess, but I hate that their relationship has been reduced to Silco's past friendship with Jinx's mother. It strips Silco of his complexities, of that uncomfortable, unhealthy side of his relationship with Jinx that is, in my opinion, absolutely essential to their bond because it reflects just how damaged Silco was. He took Powder in because he saw himself in her; a broken, sobbing little girl whose words perfectly paralleled his own: "She is not my sister anymore", "he is not my brother anymore". Silco fostered Jinx's violence because she needed to become what they - Piltover - feared, all the while Jinx weakened him, held his hand as she led him to his demise. Maybe I'm too picky, but I feel like Silco's and Powder's first meeting loses all of its weight if you go down the "he saw Felicia in her" route. Idk

[claraoswalds]

The sky's a burnt orange, with the Citadel enclosed in a mighty glass dome, shining under the twin suns. Beyond that, the mountains go on forever. Slopes of deep red grass, capped with snow.

The Legend of Ruby Sunday // The Sound of Drums

[whaliiwatching]

one in a million admirers…

based on ofc this prompt

[anna-scribbles]

chapter cards for thirteen: november - april

read on ao3