#hungry so hungry

[tariah23]

Oh…. Well, it’s over for Crunchyroll I guess

[calamitys-child]

One of my favourite mundane weirdnesses about Edinburgh is that we set the big clock visible approaching the station to be 3 minutes fast to make sure people are on time for their trains. My Favourite mundane weirdness of Edinburgh is that we check this by firing a cannon.

[hinamie]

I'll rip in hands and teeth and take a bite

[fairycosmos]

the bravery of a girl who has to decide what is for dinner and then cook it and then wash dishes every day forever and ever.

[chloesimaginationthings]

FNAF Michael refuses to be gaslit on “THE BITE OF 83”

[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.

[bluegiragi]

limitations (part 2)

early access + nsfw on patreon

[dovedrangeas]

strawbebbie………. 🍓 blubberrie…….. 🫐 oraneg……… 🍊 peeache…….. 🍑

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

sometimes katsuki gets really dramatic (but let’s be fr when isn’t he) and acts like you ghosted him when you don’t respond to his texts in thirty minutes. not in a creepy way, just in a dramatic, needy way.

he’s not worried or anything, he checks his phone every few minutes to see if any texts from you have come in. it’s a force of habit, because you usually respond pretty quickly but after a while it gets a little weird. and then he sends you a text and another one and unconsciously he starts spamming you a bit. again, not in a creepy way. just an annoying needy whiny dramatic baby, way.

“what’s up, bakubro ? you keep checking your phone.” katsuki doesn’t look at kirishima, eyes glued to his phone when he just grunts out an “‘m fine.”

and then kaminari just has to open his big mouth. his voice playful as he speaks “uh oh, trouble in paradiseee~?” katsuki scoffs, telling the blonde to fuck off.

and he isn’t worried..not at all. until he thinks about it and maybe there was trouble in paradise ?? were you maybe ignoring him ? what’d he do ?

you look up from your notebook at the sound of your phone vibrating. oh, it’s katsuki ! you smile just seeing his contact pop up.

“hi, katsu !”

silence, no response. you try again.

“…hello ?”

you hear a scoff from the other end, and some shuffling before your boyfriend graces you with an answer. “look at your phone, you idiot.”

“hello, katsu.” you snort. “yeah, yeah. hi.” you can practically hear the roll of his eyes through the phone, you giggle and your boyfriend huffs through the speaker.

it’s then that you see the wall of texts from him “oh, did you text me ? my bad i was studying.”

there’s a faint sigh of relief “‘s fine.”

“were you worried ?” you tease.

“fuck no. just—“ a sudden pause then katsuki grumbles “answer my texts next time, moron. bye. don’t overdo it while studying or i’ll kill you.”

“meanie !” you giggle, and when he hangs up you send him a text.

we can study together next time, just so you don’t flip out again 💗😚

katsuki scoffs a mean laugh, then sends you a middle finger.

[oornithologistt]

vultures amirite?

og image below the cut

[auchrauch]

i really wanted to give this work some cool meaningful title, but my head hurts, I'm annoyed by an overenergetic little kitten, I'm hungry and I probably have a fever, so I didn't come up with anything :(

some close ups

and a vertical version, because why not

[taycaitlins]

WHAT THE FUCK IS HER PROBLEM

[sakuravalelp]

Phantom letters - DPXDC PROMPT

The bats wake up one day to the internet going crazy; people around the world were getting letters from they're diseased loved ones. The reactions are mixed, from people being outraged for the "prank" to people crying in melancholy at getting closure.

All the letters have something in common: They're closed with a green sealing wax that had an stylize DP and the name Phantom beneath it. Posts about the cards were using the # Phantom Letters.

The bats are discussing the viral posts in the cave when Alfred comes holding a basket filled with letters, announcing they were left at the doors. The letters had the sealing wax that they recognize from the posts. Checking the cameras they can see how they glitch before the basket appears.

Alfred starts to distribute the letters that had only one destinatary. Letters from each Thomas and Martha to both Bruce and Alfred. Letters from each John and Mary to Dick. A letter from Catherine to Jason. A letter from the Drake's to Tim, and another one to Bruce.

Once they had calmed down enough from the shock, Alfred proceeded to read the shared recipients. From Thomas and Martha to "The grandchildren we never got to meet." From John and Mary to "the family that took our little Robin in." Letters from Catherine to "My little boys family." The letters were directed to people the deceased didn't get to meet.

As much as the mere existence of the letters tugged at their hearts, they decided to not read them until they verified that the handwriting actually belong to the ones it claimed. They checked each letter, and in the end confirmed the letters were in fact from they're lost love ones.

After much discussion, each person makes the decision to read they're own letters later in private, and they proceed to read the ones that shared recipients out loud. The letter mentioned specifics like names and events that the deceased shouldn't have been able to know, including they're vigilante abilities, which had them pause each time to panic a bit. But what was more interested were certain pieces of the letters that mentioned a Prince Phantom.

"Prince Phantom said to don't mention things past our death, but it wasn't a command, so we're hoping this won't be much of a problem." - John and Mary

"I still can't believe Prince Phantom is letting us do this, but I'm so glad." - Catherine

It finally paints the mystery in a more concerning light when at the end of Thomas and Martha's letter there is a call for help.

"We're sorry for ending the letter on a serious tone, but seeing the kind of job you all get involved in, we wanted to ask: Could you please help Prince Phantom? Phantom had asked us to not give information about this, but he's so young, and has already been hurt so much. Please, check on Amity Park, Illinois."

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Meanwhile, team Phantom has decided that they needed to get the news about the GIW out of Amity and ask for help. Two problems:

the GIW blocks any technological attempt made.

People might be afraid to learn that ghosts exist and side with the GIW.

As a way to deal with the public image, Phantom opens a possibility that the death have never had:

"All afterlives are open to write letters to their love ones that are still alive today. Nothing that includes threats, and don't go talking about the anti-ecto acts or Amity Park yet, we're trying to ease people into our existence first. Also, I know you all check on your love ones when the veil is thin, but please keep the things you shouldn't know out of the letters if possible. If you want your letter to be sent in the first batch, make sure to deliver your letter before the week ends."

Letters are a good way to reconnect people with the death, they aren't digital, and the GIW won't be able to intercept letters if they're send through inter-dimensional portals. Two birds in one shot.

[leafyeyes417]

Danny was tired. Tucker and Sam had drifted away over the duration of high school. The ghost attacks and danger had been the main factor that started the dissipation of their friendship. Jazz had left for college a while ago leaving him to deal with his parents alone. He had eventually created his own secret base and left the house permanently even if it was technically illegal at 16. No one noticed since he still went to school.

Including being a teen hero who wasn’t appreciated in Amity just was the icing on the cake. After receiving approval from clockwork and mastering his portal abilities, he closed the portal down. It wasn’t easy to do but he made sure everyone was out of the blast range when it shut down. The Fenton house was gone but it hadn’t been home for quite some time.

It was because he was so tired that he was where he was. Drifting out of Earth’s atmosphere, Danny let himself luxuriate in the feeling of space. It made his core hum pleasantly. He moved to a good spot still in Earth’s gravity and curled up and just let himself drift along in a haze. He toned down his glow and his body started to slowly fade into the space around him till he was practically invisible.

He floated in this haze for probably a week, slowly recuperating and feeling himself slowly change. There was no one to miss him for any length of time and he wasn’t worried about his human life at all. Honestly he probably would have drifted longer but something woke him up. Some guy yelling about conquering Earth or something.

Annoyed at being woken up by a fruitloop Danny allowed his form to grow with the power of space he collected and snarled out a “Oy fruitloop! I was woken up because of you! Shut up already!” and smacked him into the sun with a giant hand. Turning his ire on the army with the fruitloop he quickly sent them flying with a blast of power. It would take them many years to gather up again with how hard he sent them flying.

Huffing, he turned and glanced at the group of people left. Shrinking down he spoke and gestures wildly. “I was taking the best nap of my afterlife and was woken up by those pests. You gotta better place I can nap?”

Luckily someone was quick to let him know they had a place. He was guided to a space station soon after and was soon sleeping on the comfiest bed ever.

[bluejayscrying]

Jason, poison green glowing eyes, Baring his teeth like a feral street dog, Hands gripped in white knuckled fists: let me have the garlic bread

Alfred who just managed to get it out of the oven: no, master Todd, you must wait like the rest of us

Jason: sad bird noises

[linterteatime]

Have you ever forgotten your dead wife? Tune in next week for more iterator problems