#Thinking about her always

[ozymoron]

cute girl

[kristensdexscore]

hey chat what if i cried

[anachronistic-falsehood]

sry i’m still thinkin about terezi from the upd8. she’s trying so hard to feel okay while on this shitty planet. she’s doing her silly fake trials just to do something fun and try to feel something. and john’s wallet is just. sitting right next to her with his dead body in a captcha card inside it. she misses her old life so so much and is trying to emulate her old attitude but her never ending search for vriska left her hollow and watching john die left her devastated and she can never go back. crying and sobbing over her

[shalpilot]

This time will be different

[sowthetide]

i nee d to smoke a blunt with quen greyjoy amen

I was thinking about this ask all day today at work, but I work as a high school substitute teacher so I couldn't badly photoshop Quen smoking a blunt while on the job.

Now I can. Behold!

Smoking that krakussy zaza. Blowing the Drowned God's bubbles. This shit ain't nothing to her, man. She'll kill you, you stupid piece of shit.

[southofeerie]

just rewatched the long goodbye . nobody talk to me rn im thinking abt cj cregg and only my girl cj cregg (saddest girl in dayton)

like i mean first off- the fact that her brothers are NEVER mentioned. not sure if that's a writing inconsistency or a deliberate choice to show how as the youngest and only girl she was placed under different expectations. she mentions like 3 clubs she was in and we can gather from the fact that everybody knows her that she was probably in a lot more (not to mention she's a national merit scholar). she moves to masachusetts and then CALIFORNIA for college, that's about as far as you can get from ohio (within monetary reason), and apparently hardly returns.

the episode itself says so much and so little about her. she goes fishing once or twice with her dad despite her father loving it. everyone in her home town knows her but nobody keeps in regular contact with her. nobody expects her to come home despite her saying she would. also the fact that nobody is surprised when she leaves, it just says so much

she's just so disconnected throughout, zero nostalgia or funny memories, no looking forward to the reunion itself.

also love that toby keeps checking up on her. it's sweet. unclear how much he actually knows but it's a good effort and shows how close they are

anyways. that's all i've got for now. cj cregg my beloved, west wing is so good at understated sad backstories, and the sheer amount of people with understated sad backstories the bartlet presidency has is wild

[recordbodycount]

laying on my stomach kicking my legs giggling like a school-girl but i'm only thinking about the 2010 game fallout new vegas

[starbiesluv]

im thinking abt lily as the seeker on the gryffindor quidditch team, don't mind me...

[heart-ease]

no one ever has, does, or will love caroline forbes as much as i do i’m so serious we are TETHERED

[authcenter]

thinking about my girlfriend

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The math just adds up!

[heavenlyfatherr]

i hope my future wife sleeps well tonight, whoever she is <3

[possamble]

hiii everybody are you normal about Falin showing Laios the same little spell that Marcille showed her? are you normal about Falin remembering it fondly enough that it was one of the first things she showed her brother while trying to teach him magic?

[pumpkinstep]

tonight's emotional breakthrough/realization is:

I need to start treating myself with the same love, respect, and dedication I give my best friend.

i should always take into consideration, is this how I'd treat her? is this the amount of kindness I'd give if she were me?

I think it'd be very affective, if only I could remember to do that often

[notbrucewayne48]

"aphobia doesn't exist"

bitch literally not that long ago an aroace youtuber animator was insulted by almost half of its community for being it

[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.