#what’s the connection?

[honuofhawaii]

Hey I’ve been meandering through “isolated Batfam” and came across the “Dick Grayson is Neal Caffrey” fics and I’m so confused. Like where did that come from? Like it’s not just one or two authors that had the same weird crossover like a bunch of, and it’s not a case of same actor (unless it’s a voice actor). I don’t see the connection that makes for crossover material. Any ideas? This isn’t to say I haven’t enjoyed some of them, I’m just so confused where the concept came from.

[maudiemoods]

If life is a never ending loop of dirty dishes and laundry then that means life is a never ending loop of home cooked meals and comfy clean clothes

[findmeinthefallair]

It can't be overstated how powerful the catharsis is when a scene of a character connecting with their wounded inner child is done right. The key poses...the expressions...the timing...storytelling like this can help to provide some healing for so many people in the audience.

[hansoeii]

you'll make it back.

[pokimoko]

Asexual bird? Please

How about two asexual birds?

[o0kawaii0o]

Ace Attorney x Hades

[mobius-m-mobius]

#the Nowhere Man who waits and the God of Stories who watches

[bizarrelittlemew]

i can't wait to be 30+ and still in fandom and i can't wait to be 40+ and still in fandom and i can't wait to be 50+ and still in fandom and i can't wait to be 60+ and still in fandom and i can't wait to be 70+ and still in fandom and i can't wait to be 80+ and still in fandom and i can't wait to be 90+ and still in fandom and i can't wait to look back on my life and know that i loved things deeply and passionately and was inspired to create and was part of communities with incredible people from all over the world brought together by the stories that touched us

[ducktalk]

[the-phantom-peach]

modern link and zelda because they’re cute and i can do what i want <3

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Happy one year anniversary to In Stars and Time!

[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.

[fiasco95]

On one side of a library….

Dorcas: What do you look for in a man?

Regulus: Someone who can cook.

Dorcas: Oh??

Regulus: Yeah. If he knows how to cook, I’d marry him on the spot and get down on my knees every—

The other side of the library…

Sirius: Mate, where are you off to—?

James, quickly packing up his bag: I have a cooking lesson to attend.

Sirius: Prongs, you can’t cook for shit!

James, sprinting out of the library: THAT’S WHY I HAVE TO GO

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

"How come there's no multi-war chess?"

Tim looked up at the entity that had been haunting him for the past few weeks now, "What does that even mean?"

"You know how chess is basically a game about two kingdoms going to war with eachother?" The being asked, his white gloves gesturing about lazily, "well wouldn't it make sense for chess competitions to make the players go into the next round with only the pieces that "survived" the last war? It would be more interesting."

Danny smirked as he watched Mr. Drakes mind whirring at all the new strategies and potential. Comforted in the knowledge that Mr. Drake wasn't going to get much paperwork done tonight, let alone have time to work on his project for the competition, Danny let himself vanish from the other boys office.

All he needed to do was keep distracting Tim from the competition and that prize was all Tuckers.

He just prayed Sam didn't find out he was doing this or that he was getting chased around by bats every other night or else she'd kill him the rest of the way

[frownyalfred]

tonight I am imagining the delicious delicious angst of a grieving Alfred Pennyworth trying to explain to his newly-adopted ward that he cannot abandon the Wayne last name and take on Pennyworth as his own, not because it’s legally impossible or forbidden but because of expectations, expectations which a small boy cannot truly understand but feels rejected by anyway

[rookflower]

whichever one of us is a person first