#tell me good job

[udon-udon]

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thank you anon, and i appreciate you putting on ashley tisdale's version instead of the original i've never heard this version but it's kinda a bop

[lovelytayforce]

"Of Dreams and Mirrors"

Summary: A song of dread follows our lead, it seeps into his very soul night after night... Can he reach the end of this sorrowful tunnel toward the light or sink into the murky sea of his own making? Three Chapters uploaded right now, more to come. Fandom: Transformers Cyberverse Relationships: Megatron/Optimus Prime; Soundwave/Hot Rod Check below for a sneak peak and comment to support me please. Link to Chapter one here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58783675/chapters/149805679 Do you hear me, you feel me? We gon be alright.

Every single step was trouble Megatron grunts in pain as he stumbles to his berth, his vision goes blurry every now and then as the matrix thrums with a rhythm, ancient and untamed against his spark. It feels like thunder rumbles and shakes his spark chamber and lightning crackles within his audials as he holds on dearly to the wall for stability. For the fool who stumbled on it His knees meet the floor with a loud sound, he offlines his optics as his grip tears into the metal as hard as he grits his denta. He tries to push the voices away, that’s what he’s been doing all day but one slips through the crack of his resolve and determination! Eyes within the dark where watching “You cannot escape me…” A voice, deep in its tone yet not angry just… “No one has.” Neutral. “For I, bring justice,” The pitch of his voice rises ever so slightly in his audial, the Warrior knows this voice. Has seen what it has done to others! “under the name of my Lord and Master.” The mech practically purrs which sends a terrible jolt up his spine causing him to let a sound of pain escape his vocalizer.

Even from this distance-!

I feel the sudden chill of danger! “Despite the fact, you share a name, no title,” Megatron can hear the mech on the other end, punctuating each word with that damned pitch as he corrected himself, even and steady. Slowly but surely killing him from within.  “and semblance with him. You are weaker than my Lord Megatron.” Something told me keep on walking A nd then it stops. It grows quiet in the medium-sized darkroom. The grey mech only now realizes his fans are running loudly and he barely brings a servo up to catch a coughing fit in the making. “Peace through Tyranny, my dear.” Is the last thing he hears as he looks upon blue staining his black servo. This time no pain comes with this little farewell. It seems his old enemy was toying with him like some sort of youngling. His Master must have ordered it. Told me I should not have come there! Megatron is left with only silence now, the glow of his red optic filling the darkness with brief color, he will not admit his fuel lines feel cold. ‘Fear is for the weak.’ The grey mech thinks to himself as he pushes himself upward.

Always forward.

“I can’t tell anyone about this.” He grits out as shaky pedes finally find stability upon the surface, which is the floor. Berth and any thought of rest forgotten, the mech moves towards his door to find Astrotrain and Dead End. That forcefield must be completed or else!

“Why?” Megatron shakes his blood-stained servo as his essence stains the floor, just like back then.

There is no time to stop. No time to rest.

“Because-” His answer never comes to the new calm, questioning voice.

For they are coming.

[anna-scribbles]

so this summer i am nannying a 5 year old who loves miraculous ladybug (my dream) & every day she asks if we can play ladybug and chat noir at the park. these are some comics based on our various games<3

[may12324]

Halsin- Archdruid of the Emerald Grove

[inkskinned]

i think a lot about exactly 1 thing from the roman empire: the concept of bread and circus. the idea was that if your population was fed and entertained, they wouldn't revolt. you are asking us to give up our one small life, is the thing - for under 15 dollars an hour.

what would that buy, even. i am trading weekends and late nights and my back health. i am trading slow mornings and long walks and cortisol levels. i am trading sleep and silence and peace. for ... this. for what barely-covers-rent.

life really is more expensive right now. you aren't making that up. i make almost 3 times what i did 5 years ago, and despite an incredibly equal series of bills - i am still struggling. the most expensive line item i added was to own a dog. the money is just evaporating.

we were okay with it because it's a cost-benefit analysis. i could handle the customer harassment and standing all day and the manager's constantly changing temperament - i was coming home to hope, and my life planned in a blue envelope. three hours would buy me my dog's food for a month. i can give up three hours for him, for his shiny coat and wide, happy mouth. three days could be a new mattress, if i was thrifty. if i really scrimped and saved, we could maybe afford a trip into the city.

recently i cried in the car about the price of groceries.

business majors will be mad at me, but my most inflammatory opinion is that people should never be valued at the same place as products. your staff should not be a series of numbers in an excel sheet that you can just "replace" whenever you need something at that moment. your staff should be people, end of sentence.

it feels like someone somewhere is playing a very bad video game. like my life is a toy. like someone opened an app on their phone and hired me in diner dash ultra. they don't need to pay me well or treat me alright - they can always just show me the door. there is always someone more desperate, always someone more willing.

but i go to work and know i could save for years and not afford housing. i am never going to own my own home, most likely. i have no idea how to afford her ring, much less the wedding. my dog doesn't have his own yard. everything i love is on subscription. if i lose my job, i have no "nest egg" to catch my falling.

this thin life - they want me to give up summer for it. to open my mouth and throat and swallow the horrible hours and counted keystrokes. they want me to give up mountains and any non-federal holiday. to give up snow days. to give up talking to my mom whenever i want. to give up visiting the ocean and hearing the waves.

bread and circus worked for a while, actually. it was the kind of plan that would probably now be denounced by republicans as socialist commie liberal pronoun bullshit.

but sometimes i wonder if we should point them to the part of the history book that says: it worked until it didn't.

[autoneurotic]

i’m going to throw the fuck yp WHOOOOOO made this WHY is it in my break room im losing my mind

[chloesimaginationthings]

Why is he kinda...

These two asks were right next to each other, and I think that’s beautiful

[bad12amcomic]

Drapery

cw unreality, scopophobia, injury, mind control

Summary: In his very first fight, Hotguy very bravely and with no problems whatsoever dispatches the terrible villains Gal and Guy! Except wait, maybe that’s not right—Hotguy edits the narrative as he goes, removing Guy and silencing Gal as needed to make himself look like more of a hero as he tells his story. Gal and Guy aren’t amused, but not to worry, they’re defeated! There’s no need to thank him!

[START | PREVIOUS | NEXT] [MERCH] [MISC]

[bunnieswithknives]

I feel bad for neglecting Hazel so much, I do have many thoughts about her.. and also a mermaid au that im probably not going to do anything with

[buckingham-ashtray]

Not Them still haunting me even on my hike.

More than one hundred miles away from home and I am still unable to escape Them. Not even physically.

I can't anymore. THEY WON’T LEAVE ME ALONE.

(watch me lose my absolute mind in the tags💀

[yaolmao]

[fuumiku]

It was Maid Day today yesterday a week ago so I got struck by inspiration to draw the worsties, and it ran away from me into a whole AU where they’re coworkers at a maid cafe. She’s a med student & this is just a part time job, and this is his depression job while he gets his life back together. He needs something he can be workaholic about to forget what it’s like having a personal life and personal issues. He’s actually the accountant, but the new hire janitor (Izutsumi) doesn’t show up for half her shifts and is a sloppy worker, so he gets the extra work of doing her job on top of his because he’s undervalued and overworked. Of course, janitors also have an uniform to keep the aesthetic cohesion as they go about cleaning the place, of course.

Senshi’s the part time cook you only see slivers off, he’s kind and warm when you do see him and have a chat but most shifts he’s in and out the kitchen without a trace. Laios and Falin are regulars because Falin and Marcille are besties & in the same med school, Laios accompanies Falin as she visits her friend at work and gets hooked on the food. Chilchuck has to remind Marcille to work instead of chatting with Falin for an hour, and next thing he knows she’s distracting him from work too. That’s it that’s the AU. Inspired by this idol AU fanart a bit <3

This was not meant to be birthday gift but well…… Happy bday Chil!!!

Read from left to right

[nelkcats]

Therapy needed

Danny needed therapy, that was pretty obvious. After the whole "my future self killed everyone because my family died" thing it became pretty obvious that he needed to acknowledge his traumas and deal with them properly before another Dan happened or his emotions just exploded. The fact that his parents wanted to kill him and no one would acknowledge his death was making things worse.

So he asked his sister for help, but Jazz being annoyingly responsible commented that he couldn't become her patient, something about how personal feelings could cloud her judgment and family can't give each other therapy. Danny thought it was a bit hypocritical considering she used him as a lab rat with her psychology books but decided not to say anything.

The fact that Jazz could not be his therapist made everything 10 times more complicated. First of all because Danny had a trauma with psychologists (and wasn't that ironic? He blamed Spectra for that), and secondly that no one would believe his whole life story or keep it a secret. It was unfortunate that the Yetis were general health doctors and not mental health doctors because that would have solved his problem.

Just as he was about to give up and continue to treat his traumas as a recurring joke, Jazz introduced him to someone. Her name was Harleen Frances Quinzel and she was completely crazy, but according to Jazz she was excellent at her job. Danny had his doubts but in the end he agreed to have an appointment with her.

Strangely, Harley Quinn lived up to his sister's expectations, not being upset when Danny asked to change the decor of the place (Spectra had done a number on his head, common offices became uncomfortable for him), nor when Danny almost froze her by accident. Harley was patient, attentive and considered all his suggestions, accepting or denying as needed. Danny liked it.

The only complaint the halfa had were about the stalkers on the roof who were always watching him on his way to and from Harley's house, it was getting very annoying. One of them panicked when Danny came out crying - couldn't a ghost face his traumas in peace!?

[artsekey]

Went to apply for a job, midway through I learned that the person hiring is someone I respect very, very much in my field (who I have never spoken to), then saw the application site was closed (How Did I Miss the Deadline for this Really Cool Job!!!!) and then saw that it was the website's fault and that they were taking applications through LinkedIn DM's. So I did the premium trial & sent my reel in, and they told me they're sending it to recruitment/leads and that it's a good reel!!!! And then the person I have respected for years sent me a friend request!

I'm beside myself!!

[varpusvaras]

Just thought of little Leia meeting rest of the Corries...like suddenly Fox has this little nat-born girl hanging around with him, and when asked he's like "she's my daughter from the future. she's just time travelling" (he's casual about it because he has to be. if he's not he's going to lose his mind)

It actually doesn't take long for the Corries to believe it, because the conversation will go like this:

Thorn: ....who is she, Fox?

Fox: This is Leia

Little Leia: 🙂

Thorn: Um. Where did you get her?

Fox: Oh she's time travelling. She's my daughter from the future

Thorn: What-

Fox: Say hello to your uncle, Leia

Little Leia: Hello, Uncle Thorn 👁👁

Thorn: ...

Thorn: Yeah okay that's definitely your kid

(Thorn and Leia are immediately besties)

[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.