#the ‘ur dead’???

[winxwannabe]

Favorites from the Isotta SNT x Winx Club collab

[hinamie]

to moving forward

[ruporas]

need to exist in your warmth (id in alt)

[padmestrilogy]

has it ever been more over

[ciil]

what makes us any different?

[madamedevil]

You say black, I say white

You say bark, I say bite

[omgitskangel]

“why is no one DIYing their own clothes anymore :(“

*calls crochet wearables ugly* *dedicates whole subreddits to mocking ppls bacttlejackets* *dedicate whole subreddits to mocking beginners* *never shows themselves sewing, crocheting, or knitting only complains about those who don’t* *lumps customizing preexisting clothes with sewing your own pieces from patterns and fabric under “DIY”* *calls punks with crust pants dirty* *is STILL harassing that woman on tiktok for her rust dyed pieces* *thinks just bc there’s no goth bar in their bible belt state and saw some annoying teenagers on tiktok the WHOLE ENTIRE DECADES LONG SUBCULTURE IS DEAD*

[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.

[antlergrave]

uh oh

oh damn he was just dreaming

[flwrkid14]

I’m just saying—Tim should have a full-blown obsession with Danny’s ridiculously sharp, pointy canines.

Like, I’m talking every single night, Tim is practically begging for it, especially when it comes to his neck. Maybe Tim has a thing for his neck being sensitive, but he’ll just tilt his head, exposing his throat, knowing Danny could bite just a little deeper and break skin if he wanted to. And the best part? Tim trusts him completely. He knows Danny could draw blood if he wanted to, but the fact that he doesn’t, that Danny holds back out of love, out of care, worried for him, reassuring that he won't hurt him—ugh, chef’s kiss

But also, the bite marks are like a grounding thing for Tim. On the nights where his brain is a mess, when he can’t get out of his head, those marks are like proof. Proof that he’s wanted. That he’s loved so deeply by someone as incredible as Danny, who’s more than happy to leave little reminders all over Tim’s skin that say: ‘He’s mine. I’ve got him. He’s cared for.’ (even if thats not what people initially think of when they see them)

And imagine Tim walking into the Batcave, totally casual, covered in bite marks and bruises that are definitely purple enough to be noticed. Dick and Bruce? Immediately freaking out because they think he’s been attacked by some rogue. But no, this is just Tim, grinning like an idiot, strolling in so happy because those bites aren’t from some enemy. No, they’re from Danny. And Tim’s never felt more loved in his life

[hmyrine]

incredibly rough and unfinished but school's been fucking me in the ass with a chainsaw

[lunisoular]

what do u mean, we’re all by ourselves ?

[hinamie]

I don't want to regret the way I lived

[leahaart]

[not-rab]

*during a prank*

James: What do you think Sirius will do for a distraction?

Remus: He’ll probably make a noise or throw a rock. That’s what I would do

*classroom explodes and several students start screaming*

Remus: ... Or he could do that

[manicpixiedreamedwins]

I’m sure other people feel the same and have said similar things, but I think there's just a point in the Rizz™️ debate where we just need to acknowledge Edwin has it. Like people are doing mental gymnastics to be like “well he has some awkward traits so he can’t have Rizz™️ so it must be like negative Rizz™️ that just becomes positive” but I’m like… hello? Edwin Payne is a dark academia dream boat.

He knows dead languages. He dresses impeccably. He moves like a ballerina. He is insanely well read, he never stops learning. He’s clever (clever enough to escape hell). He has a high pain threshold and acts like that’s NOTHING. His sense of humor is cutting. Sure he has flaws, everyone has flaws. That’s being human (or like… a dead human). He was an incredibly fucking gorgeous, charming human being and then he died, tragically.

It’s okay Edwin Payne, I see you beautiful.