#hey friend

[bibuckagenda]

Buddie posts I think deserve immediate jail time. 9/?

[jennydolfen]

Hitch a ride on your best friend's handlebars

… horns, sorry.

[cinamun]

omg i missed the couple

We love to see a little HoJay and Dem Babies™ living their best simulated lives don't we? I always miss them when I spend too much time hiding behind furniture to catch the Throat Goat™ and her anniversary shenanigans, or Mershop and the attempted murder mayhem...

Hope and Jayce are such a nice break from the chaos.

[detherun]

@theguythatdraws

[underthecitysky]

shut bitch

First Ask!!

[gently-decaying-flowers]

thoughts on gay people???????

i hate gay people 🫶🫶🫶

/j /pos /aff

[lokisgoodgirl]

I just want to quickly pop by and say thank you! ☺️ Thank you for being such a wonderful friend. Thank you for blessing us with your breath-taking stories. Thank you for being always so supportive. ❤

Heyyy my beautiful, wonderful creampuff❤️ thank you for blessing us with your beautiful stories, and for always being so unrelentingly kind and sweet and a little naughty too 😂 you make me laugh so much.

[cosmoseinfeld]

HELP i just arrived at my stop and saw some guy in a cena shirt

[thegoodmorningman]

Plumb the Depths of The Morning's Joy 🔧🪣☀️

[writtenonreceipts]

Well, Tower if Dawn did nothing good for my arachnophobia 🥲🥲🥲

Otherwise it was really good! I honestly liked reading about Chaol’s healing journey

🤣🤣🤣 that book needs a warning in beginning I swear, lol.

I really enjoyed TOD too. I don't care what anyone says, Chaol is an interesting character and I liked his journey. Plus Yrene is awesome. And Nesryn and Sartaq, i need more of them tbh😅.

Gear up! KoA is going to be a ride.

[kierras]

@borndark​​ / sc.

The Island Club is the last place that Kiara wants to be these days — scratch that. Blue Ridge is the last place that Kiara wants to be these days, which is exactly why she’s at the country club now. She’s already refusing to go back to school, refusing to stop seeing the Pogues... if she has to spend a few hours at the country club in an attempt to appease her parents... well, she has to at least try. But she had been anxious and jittery from the moment she’d gotten there, counting down the seconds — and that had only increased a tenfold when she’d spotted Rafe Cameron. She knows their next interaction won’t one of kindness, not after she’d fucked him over and left him stranded in Barbados and she doesn’t have time for him to try to kill her right now. So she’d ducked behind a wall, waited it out until she heard him leave and then took her chances at the bar. “Sofia, hey.” She calls, sliding into a seat. She isn’t entirely sure she would call Sofia her friend — but she’s maybe the closest thing she has here right now, the two having spent time together at the Bone Yard before her life became gold heists and chaos. “Was that Rafe Cameron I saw you talking to?” She questions. Her voice is casual, like she’s asking about the weather — but considering how vocal she had been about him being a murderer a few months ago, she’s sure it isn’t fooling anyone. 

[orangeyouglad8]

10/10 because you’ll take a blue heavy over a blue light 🤣. J/k, but seriously prob a 8/10 because you seem cool but you give off the vibe that you will absolutely tear someone down and destroy their soul with mere words if they cross you or your peeps in the wrong way.

This is the most accurate! You nailed it! Love it!

[thatrandomblogsays]

Annabeth: I, a child, had to earn Thalia’s love, that’s how the world works! I have to earn my moms love. Love is transactional, you gotta be worthy of it first silly :)

Percy, listening to this on the train

[detherun]

@theguythatdraws

[hybrix-hidings]

Honestly everyone give it up for repulsed aces/aros. Yall get so much shit for having boundaries and its frustrating to watch. You're all getting sent complimentary gift baskets

[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.