#what is wrong with me lately!

[chronicsymptomsyndrome]

*displays textbook symptomatic behavior of my own disorder that I am well educated on* what’s my deal why am I like this

[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.

[cozylittleartblog]

Columbo and the Knight (1984)

put me in the universe where Columbo ran through the 1980s and had a crossover episode with Knight Rider. I think they deserved it, and I am not just saying that because they're my two favorite Old Shows. @telebeast wrote a little fanfic blurb about it and I HAD to visualize it into a comic (which is also the longest comic I have finished thus far at five pages...), so writing credit goes to them.

Autism W!

[lykzoi]

check this thing out

[strawberri-syrup]

why am i crying

[hinamie]

congrats on your recovery n all yuuji but unfortunately for you I thought the scars were cool >:/

[theerurishipper]

Tim Drake, for no reason at all:

Dick Grayson, Tim's big brother in every conceivable way for the past several years:

[saltycryptid]

"You know, I've been catching myself smiling more lately."

🥺🥺 shadowheart is everything to me tbh,,, 💖💖

[spideyhexx]

1 am thoughts with kit:

mdni; tw stepcest

Coriolanus and you, hooked up how long ago? Maybe a few months. Almost a year ago. And now your parents are marrying. An awful coincidence because the moment you’re in one another’s vicinity again, you’re both practically eye fucking one another and thinking about the one night you had.

One. Where he took you to his apartment and fucked you in his bed, multiple times. Where you had his cock down your throat and sat on his face because he wanted, no pleaded, that he needed to taste you like that.

How were you supposed to behave like normal? And your father was so happy with his mother, you couldn’t even bear to say anything to break it up.

Coriolanus pulled you aside after a family dinner and you spoke in hushed tones about how the two of you should just ignore what happened, that you don’t need to really be apart of each other’s lives that much. You’re both adults with your own things going on, it would be easy to avoid one another without rousing suspicion, right?

Except, of course, it wasn’t easy to ignore the man. Every time you caught his eye, you pictured how he looked, on top of you and pounding himself into you like he needed you to survive. You don’t know how it was possible. That night you spent with Coriolanus was unreal, unlike anything that it almost feels like a dream. You try to get him out of your mind and system, fucking other people, fucking yourself, anything, but your mind always goes back to him.

And it’s the same for him, he in turn gives into the fantasy a little more and thinks of you on your knees for him when he fists his cock in the shower. After he finishes, he always chastises himself, always tells himself he won’t do that next time but it was a lie.

You both ignore and ignore and ignore until one day, you both give in after your parents left for an evening dinner at a friend’s penthouse. The two of you, left alone for the first time really.

It takes an awkward conversation, two drinks each and Coriolanus’ knee touching yours before you’re all over one another in the couch of the lounge.

He would frantically pick you up after his lips felt bruised from yours, bringing you to your bedroom.

And while Coriolanus’ cock finally sinks into your cunt after the long period of the worst pleasures either of you experienced, he’s rambling like mad right to your ear, pushing his hands under your thighs and knees to get your legs higher. He needs to fuck you as deep as possible, he needs to remember how you feel.

“I’m so fucked up for liking this,” he grunts out, and he restrains himself from biting and sucking marks to your neck, so he just smushes his nose to it instead, “you’re so fucked up for it. You’re moaning like this for me? This is what you fucking needed huh? You’re so lucky I want it just as bad. The way you look at me during dinner sometimes hurts my cock,” and his words feel sharp, breathless and quick to your skin, as he ruts into you, primal and full of energy all for you.

Coriolanus doesn’t care that his own thighs are starting to ache, he doesn’t even care that you’ve already came, and you don’t care either.

“Cant believe how fucked up we are. We’re gonna fuck everything up,” but even with his words, he’s thrusting harder, he almost whimpers when you say, “shut the hell up, Coryo.”

[welcometogrouchland]

I've been binging Batman Beyond recently (Terry ily so much) and thought about how- bc of the JLU twist which I think isn't even canon to the comics BB verse but shhh bare with me- he'd technically be Damian's half brother??? Which is just so ridiculously soap opera to me. I need them to interact in a silly time travel adventure so bad you don't even understand (ID in alt)

[zu-is-here]

make teleshopping great again ♪

[kevinsdsy]

The Olympics posts are my fav. I keep thinking about the so-called “anti-intimacy beds.” Shawn would def be texting stuff about testing them out ahaha

LMAOO I’VE SEEN SO MANY TIKTOKS ABOUT THE BED AND ITS SO FUNNY TO ME??? ((i love olympictok so much and i’m so so glad we live in a time where we can see the athletes be silly on the internet))

anyways i did make a few texts for the inbox but for some context hehe i’m assuming guests do not get the olympian treatment (i wouldnt know tho) so in my mind the trojans and foxes have booked their own rooms but are grabted access to the olympics etc (idek) so yeah they’re not sleeping on cardboard beds LMAOOO but its okay because shawn has found a way to test one out (at the expense of kevin’s name?)

[marnorourastar]

More baby Orel 😭😭😭

I...haf this...

[emdotcom]

Yeah, so while I was on my "I'm going to read into Vanny/Vanessa as much as possible" journey, I noticed an odd quirk in her animations in how she moves. At first, I thought it reminded me of a ballerina, 'cause she's kinda tip-toeing, & she has this way of keeping her head & chest in one place as she moves, but I looked again & realized --

That's not ballet! She's doing a tight-rope act. Like, look at this one:

This is like standing up on the wooden boards before you do the actual tight-rope walking, & the ring leader is hyping you up as you do some fun movement for the crowds. &, then, these:

These are all instances where she walks with one foot directly in front of the other. In that third, she's doing the "woaaah" wiggly-ass balance movements & everything, as if she's swaying up at the top of the tent, even though she's down on solid ground.

Idk, I feel like the way her feet are placed isn't accurate (pretty sure they should be pointed left & right, not both forwards...) doesn't make this 100% correct, but I like it. It also connects back with her first SB teaser, wherein she's up in the rafters.

[turtleblogatlast]

Don’t think I ever quite said what my LGBTQ+ headcanons are for the boys, so these are my current thoughts! Always changing of course but this is what I feel most strongly right now.

[yrsonpurpose]

You know, it's not too late to get out of here and fly to the Maldives. Tempting. But I think it's time I stood up for myself.