#ur killing me-

[piowasthere]

YT, please give us back our show i cannot do this anymore-

sadly i am dead over on twitter X, so this won't go really far

but just- lemme grieve in peace-!!!

feels bad frogde.

[hinamie]

to moving forward

[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.

[fincherly]

my gf was looking through wesker's wiki page (as you do) and sent me this

and i lost my shit bc it just seems like they're looking at him like girls look at a weird bug

[caruliaa]

staff still hasn't given me polls, what should i do?

🟪🟪🟪🟪🟪🟪🟪🟪🟪🟪 their moms 69%

🟪🟪🟪🟪🟪🟪🟪 their dads 31%

grace image os i get to look at her

[sturnioloho]

pov makin him hard on stream 🥰🥰🥰

[wttcsms]

atsumu is the type of man who still flirts with you even after you two are married, and he does it shamelessly in public too. he loves to pretend you’re strangers; you once were in the middle of asking a grocery store employee for the location of an item and atsumu saunters up to you, cheekily asking “this guy botherin’ ya?” he’s so silly, marrying him means never going a day without laughter

[the-vivi-section]

kyoko was so funny for being like "i know a place" and then traumadumping on sayaka. sayaka was probably confused as fuck because kyoko tried to kill her like a week ago but anyways

[satans-knitwear]

Me: *trying to show u my nice necklace*

Sabine: GUYS LOOK WHAT I GOT! IT SQUEAKY!

Treat me ~ Tip Me ~ More of me

[obsob]

making and weaving and loving! like we have done for millennia!!

[wintergrofyuri]

he wants this cookie so effing bad its literally detrimental to his physical and mental health. he keeps talking about how he's a danger to humanity and he needs to kill him but if they were alone in a room together (perfect opportunity for murder) he'd just shove his tongue down his throat like the cure for cancer is down there. he is his own worst enemy.

[hinamie]

i'm on an itafushi kick and i am making it everyone else's problem

[inkskinned]

did you really let them ruin that for you?

when i was younger i worked on a farm for 3 years. during late july and august we would have unfettered access to the strawberry plots. they were all warm and ripe and fresh. i think i ate a pound of dirt back then. i think i picked enough seeds out of my teeth to build a temple. the summer hours are long; i'd come home with the bruising stain of juice running in a seam along my cheeks and fingers and jaw.

why didn't you protect your precious things from other people? you knew this could happen.

i can't eat strawberries from the store anymore, they don't taste right. something about the florescent lights and the chill of them and the way they are absent from the vine. they feel bleached and bland, a wasted party dress. i watch other people eat strawberries and miss enjoying them. none of the store-bought strawberries will have mold or bugs, okay. they will be big and bright red and perfectly shaped. but they are not the ugly and real strawberries of my summer, awarded by the soil and the hot sun up ahead and hours spent crouched, plucking.

i didn't mean to let it get ruined. i wish it hadn't been. i miss having it. but i came back to it afterward and it just wasn't the same as it had been. i know love is never wasted. but it feels like - love did this. it's not that i never loved it, you know? it's that i did.

[ghostbsuter]

"You know I'm here for school?" He casually mentions, rubbing his hands after Red Robin cut the rope.

"Yeah?"

"I did not expect the amount of maiming I'd get."

The teen vigilante is silent, staring at him.

"Have you thought of switching campus?"

Danny scoffs. "I won't let some assholes stop me from gaining knowledge, I know the Ancients are watching me as we speak, Nocturn especially hoping I'll fail." As the sentence went on, his face adapted a darker look, grin edging on insanity.

Red Robin leans back.

"Anyway, thanks for the save!"

Without waiting, he leaves. RR can't even do anything, done himself with the situation.

"Red Robin, did you identify the hostage?" Batman's gruff voice rings through the comm.

It has the teen pinching his nose. "It was danny again."

Silence.

(Gotham is just funny like that. If only Danny didn't get kidnapped the very next day when he and his new bestie, Tim dra-something, were going to a nice café.

Maybe Tim will forgive him if he gives him some homage fudge?)

[l0verseyes]

You get me closer to God

[lochlot]

i haven’t finished the show yet but they totally are gay and run away together and live happily ever after right? guys ? right? guys?