#there are still meetings

[vvitchella]

.

[egophiliac]

can't believe that skeleman has turned on us, and Halloween Prom is tomorrow.

(what a top-tier UM...we are about to be just totally obliterated in the absolute silliest way. what possible use could this power have outside of bringing us to the brink of utter holiday disaster.)

[chloesimaginationthings]

FNAF Vanny and Michael if they met as teens

[reineydraws]

jason is a grandpa's boy and u cant take this away from me!!! they cook together, they discuss literature together, and when jay comes back, they clean their guns together haha. ofc they celebrate their birthday together too! 😌

✨️🎂 hbd jay & alfie 🎂✨️

[asisp7766]

[theballadofmars]

I love how mqf's oficial description is something like: a good heart who wants to help others but then you read the novel and his reaction to lqg trapping ten infected men who are crying in panic is "great now I can start to work in my experiments with decomposed people to find a cure" and gets out a lot of needles, which makes the man cry even harder.

Even if we only get bits of the other Cang Qiong sect leader's we can reach the conclusion that no one there is normal, sqq is just biased.

[kaahmbem]

legend has it that the young witch circe and the once beautiful nymph scylla shared a complicated past...

[chainmail-butch]

I met an older nb queer (I estimate early 50s) at the club last night. It was a religious experience. We talked about mushrooms, AIDs, and Terry Gilliams movies.

They told me about identifying as a sissy when they were a kid because that was the only term they had for an effeminate man. We talked about gender and the way the world has changed then they passed me a very strong joint.

As the night wore on they leaned over and told me how good it was to meet a butch for the first time in a long time. They told me that when they were 16 and sneaking out of the house to go to gay bars the butches were the ones who took them in.

I had to hold back tears in the club.

There are futures for all of us. And if your future involves tophats with feathers, silly songs, and trippy jackets, then there's a future for you too.

[elementalwife]

thinking about the early access astarion sex scene where you do it in front of what appears to be a military weapons grade flood light

[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.

[hinamie]

a tribute to celebrate the finale of the manga that has meant so much to me these past few years

[egophiliac]

buckle up lads we're going BACK INTO THE BOOK

[chloesimaginationthings]

Michael Afton knows the FNAF Mimic’s secret..

[deerspherestudios]

surely Mychael will spend 5 days away from MC thinking about them very rationally with completely normal thoughts

I assure you he's done nothing but the most professional of in-depth research (cheesy romance novels) since then.

[cutetanuki-chan]

I'm not sure how caption this, just hanging out near the pool

[tragedy-machine]

Post s1 au where Charles tries to bond with the Night Nurse and jokes that she needs to put herself out there and date someone, take advantage of the fact that she's on earth now and that maybe her great love is just around the corner, and she goes "and what would you have me do, just stumble in an attic somewhere with severe internal bleeding and wait for the love of my life to show up just because it somehow had worked for you? No thanks!"

Charles is startled by this, like "love of- what??" And then it hits him that the NN thinks him and Edwin are dating and that holy shit, they really did have quite a romantic meeting, didn't they, and does he actually want to date Edwin?? (Duh)

The Night Nurse doesn’t buy it when Charles tells her they're not dating so it becomes a running gag that Charles tries to stop the NN from saying things like "your beau" or any other lines referencing them being together to keep it from Edwin so he's constantly interrupting her or pushing Edwin into other rooms when she visits etc

Finally, Edwin catches on and corners Charles like: why on earth would the NN think we're dating?!

Charles: um, she saw my memories of how we met- of my death

Edwin: so? She saw it from your perspective, so why would it lead her to a conclusion that we're dating?

Charles:...

Edwin: Charles.

Charles: *silence intensifies*