#I'm having the time of my life here

[nb-n0v4]

posting these wips for my dr who x supernatural thing bc I'm having so much fun drawing these unironically and I'm gnawing the bars of my enclosure

[careless-with-your-heart]

Lay You in the Ground Crazyposting Part Deux.

I promise this is only an interruption in the angst-and-traumafest. Your honor, they deserve love, but what they've got is me to write them.

He helps her to shaky legs. Kitty’s vision is pleasantly blurred at the edges as Blaine’s hands work in alarmingly expert reverse, redressing her as she sways on her bare feet—underthings, shoes, the heavy fall of her dress slipping back down her body. Endorphin-drunk, she reaches back and ruffles his hair as he stands behind her, untwisting a shoulder strap that has tangled in the process.

“I thought you were only good at undressing women,” she says, raking her nails lightly across his scalp.

Blaine makes a sound low in his throat that is half gasp and half growl. “I’m a man of many talents. Keep doing that, and you’ll get a demonstration of several more of them.”

And then, he’s gone from her personal bubble, reaching for her hand, tugging her toward the bar.

“Coat?” he asks, reaching behind the bar for her purse and handing it over.

Kitty purses her lips. “I didn’t bring one.”

“Of course you didn’t.” He grins. “That’s a thing with you, for some reason. You probably don’t remember the first night you walked into The Post, but you weren’t wearing a coat then, either.” He steps close, pushes her hair back from her face. She’s sure she looks a mess—makeup smeared, clothes rumpled. But Blaine’s looking at her as though she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

And she remembers everything about the first night she walked into The Post. Scared, alone, running from the dark.

“I travel light,” she explains, shrugging. “And this is weird pillow talk.”

God, she loves the way he smiles. When things take him off-guard, amuse him, the flash of teeth and the light that reaches his eyes changes him into someone else. Someone lighter.

Kitty’s eyes flick upward. So much is better in the light.

“It’s part of my charm. No, I—it just stuck with me. The coat thing. It was one of the things that made me want to help you.” He reaches for her hand, pulls her into him. She goes without resistance; his arms around her waist, her arms around his neck.

“One of?” she teases.

“Oh, yeah, well, you’re also ridiculously attractive and seemed to be some kind of fugitive from law enforcement, so that really did it for me.”

“See? You can be wrong, sometimes.”

Blaine kisses the tip of her nose. “Splitting hairs, but I’ll concede. It wasn’t law enforcement. Now, I’ll go get my coat…” Blaine steps back, and Kitty feels a flutter of anxiousness rise in her throat.

What now?

She’d never navigated the after with anyone she…didn’t despise.

“And you will wear it. And we are going back to my place to do that”—Blaine points back over his shoulder at the piano as he reaches the mouth of the hallway that leads to the back office—“again.”

And then, he disappears down the hall. And under the bright, blazing lights of the chandeliers above, Kitty suddenly struggles to recall what it ever felt like to be in the dark without him.

[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.

[beaft]

BG3 is really testing me because my natural inclination in all situations is to be like "well, i think you should do what is best for you :-) <3" and then my companions are inevitably like "i want to kill an angel" "i want to ascend to godhood" "i want to become the most evil vampire in the world" like can we take it down a notch . please

[s0up1ta]

playing with them in my head like barbie dolls

[somnimagus]

My page for @sheikahzine; about Impaz's duty to her village, empty of people and full of memories.

[id in alt text]

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

I'm a doctor, not a miracle worker.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[xxcrystalinerose]

Supergiant is absolutely COOKING with their characterizations of Nemesis and Moros.

It's deliciously ironic how the embodiment of divine retribution, meter of justice and avenger of evil, is in possession of grade-school-rivalry level of pettiness against Melinoë. Unfairly taking out her frustrations on Mel (about something that can't be helped wrt. Mel's birthright too!). Regularly steals her lunch money so she can buy more stuff from Big Bro Charon. Forced into the passive position of standing guard at the Crossroads, preventing her from doing what she does best: actively punishing evil. Not to mention the hilarious occasional "I punch you once and I give you stuff. This is definitely a fair exchange" encounters.

On the other hand, the official Bearer of Bad News™, who sometimes engineered horrifying deaths because he and Sisters Dearest get bored on the job, feared and hated by all mortals, is an unfailingly polite, nice guy who doesn't know how to deal with niceties because barely anyone has ever been nice to him (even the Fates bully him sometimes). Receives one (1) gift and instantly suffers critical damage, afflicted with "Down Atrocious" status effect. Sometimes weirdly optimistic and willing to make the best of his time in the Crossroads, to the point of asking Hecate herself to teach him witch stuff.

TL;DR I love Nem and Moros very much and they have ruined my life. Good fucking food, Supergiant writers.

[gazspookiebear]

Ugh I'm so sleepy. Eepy man. Enjoy this shit I cooked up in ten minutes.

You wake up, only to find yourself just as tired as you were a few hours ago. Your eyelids are heavy, and you're fighting back sleep with every blink. Exhaustion wracking your body with every movement.

You feel Simon groan and sit up next to you.

"Mmm... five more minutes?" You mumble sleepily, shivering at the sudden lack of warmth.

"'M sorry love, we've gotta get up"

"Please? I'm so tired..." You whine quietly

"Negative," he says, chuckling at your miserable pout.

"Please, Si?" You say it so sweetly. The nickname you rarely used. His weakness.

A moment passes before you finally hear a response.

"Fine."

You grin, knowing that you've won. He lays back down and wraps his arm around you, pulling your back to his chest. You close your eyes and sleep quickly overtakes you.

Of course, it was never just 'five more minutes'. Simon called your work shortly after and informed them that you wouldn't be coming in today. However that works.

[expelliarmus]

[jkvjimin]

"my happiness started when I met rapmon hyung" for @jung-koook ♡

[outer-stars]

"hey, it's that waybright kid"

[front-facing-pokemon]

[ask-lu-wild]

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Smell Check [Easy: Failure]

MDZS Disco Elysium AU part 1 (part 2 - part 3)

[cozylittleartblog]

my ACEN tip gimmick has been fulfilled, aaand i got a little carried away with it. I haven't had time to draw for myself (or at all, really??) in like two weeks, i needed to Doodle and Have Fun. ... also, i did not think he would get so many donuts. people understand the value of giving treats to fictional characters :) its what he deserves

also shoutout to snazzyskeletons who had the same Tip Theme i did. we took pictures with our tip jars together. they are adorable v

i'm glad their vash got some donut money too :) 🍩 please check them out if you want some cute trigun stuff