#i never know how to end what im writing

[hazyspiderwebs]

Distance

You were thinking about your friendship/relationship with JJ. Lately that was the only thing on your mind. Your friendship started off great. When you met you instantly clicked and an indescribable bond was formed between the two of you. The second time the two of you were hanging out with your friends everything felt electric. It was like the friendship you had always dreamed of. As you were playing putt putt with your friends you were the only one beating John B. The rest of your friends were desperately cheering you on to beat him. John B was the best at putt putt and he willingly rubbed it in everyone's face. Now that you were there and were a potential threat to him everyone desperately wanted you to win especially JJ. As you got another hole in one JJ was the loudest to cheer "Let's go sweetheart!" Which definitely made your heart feel some type of way. As you approached your last hole JJ was right beside you and was happily commentating in an awful attempt at an australian accent. You laughed as you took your shot and got your final hole in one officially beating John B. "Y/N IS THE NEW CHAMPION. GIVE IT UP FOR QUEEN Y/N!" JJ exclaimed happily as everyone else did their own mini celebration of someone finally beating John B.

That was one of your favorite memories that you constantly went back to. The way JJ said "sweetheart" had a deeper effect on you than you cared to acknowledge. Another one of your favorite memories involved JJ and coffee. You didn't even like coffee before you met him. One night you had a long trip ahead of you and JJ could tell you were crashing before you even left. "Don't go like that you're way too tired." He cautioned and ran out of the room before you could stop him. Normally just the scent of coffee was enough to make you feel nauseous but JJ's coffee was the first coffee to actually smell good to you. He handed you the cup with an adorable smile eager for you to taste his creation. You gratefully accepted the cup and cautiously took your first sip. "Oh my god JJ this is the best thing ever!" JJ looked down to hide his blush and sheepishly responded "oh it's nothing." "How did you make this?" You asked knowing you would need more of that coffee in your life. "It's a secret recipe." He responded with a mischievous grin. He never did tell you how he made it.

Lately when you would ask him to make his special coffee he almost seemed annoyed. You offered to make your own coffee the next time and he left you completely to your own devices. The tension was too thick for you to even call his name let alone ask him how to make it. You sighed to yourself and attempted to figure out the flavor profile yourself. Tragically your coffee tasted nothing like his.

At the start of your friendship JJ was always the first one or one of the first ones to view your instagram story. Which was amazing considering how much bad reception to no internet he usually had. But suddenly he went from being the first one to view or like your stories to not watching them at all. You wanted to blame the internet but deep down you knew something had changed between the two of you. But what? That question lingered in your mind constantly.

You opened your texts and hovered over his name debating if you should actually reach out to him or not. As you scrolled through previous messages you realized you had initiated all of the previous conversations. The thought of if he wanted to he would tugged at your heart. You desperately wanted to fight that thought but clearly he wanted some distance from you. You debated about reaching out to one of his friends to figure out what was going on. But the last time you saw any of them in person felt odd too. It felt like everyone around you knew what was happening but you. As you thought about the last time you were around everyone you started to realize the sympathy looks they were all giving you.

You and JJ had started out joking around with each other before it gradually blew up into an emotion filled back and forth argument. Everyone was shocked at the escalation as JJ angrily yelled out "YOU'RE THE IDIOT!" Leaving everyone too stunned to speak. You took that as your cue to leave. And that was sadly your last interaction with JJ.

[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.

[ganondoodle]

i often really do feel like an .. unwanted part of the fandom, i dont draw beautiful landscapes, i have unpopular but strong opinions im constantly annoying about and rarely change, dont like/dont draw the pretty young popular twinks and hot gurls to fanboi over nor do i turn characters into one, the opposite moreso, draw only one ship no ones heard of really, got little energy to interact with the few people that are nice to me and send me asks so it probably looks like im ignoring everyone and unfortunately but still rarely get so stressed i get overwhelmed and emotional about pehaps seemingly minor things and spiral almost into a breakdown feeling super embarrassed about it afterwards but the damage is already done and i look like a freak or agressive weirdo

[ywpd-translations]

Ride 756: The third Inter High!!

Pag 1

1: The Inter High starting line is impartial

2: Those aiming for victory

3: Those filled to the brim

4: Those who are scared

5: Everyone who put on their number bib

6: The line calls everyone to a new path

Pag 2 / 3

1: No2, Onoda Sakamichi's last Inter High!!

Pag 4

1: “Kyushu” was once divided into nine countries, and that's why it has that name*

(NdT.: The “kyuu” in Kyushu means nine)

(Currently is divided in seven prefectures: Fukuoka, Ooita, Saga, Nagasaki, Kumamoto, Miyazaki, Kagoshima)

2: It has a lot of active volcanoes, and people coexist with the harshness of nature while enjoying hot springs, geothermy, and tourism

3: Trade with the continent has been active since ancient times

4: Formerly, the distribution of goods by ships, which was the mainstream

5: Passed through the Kanmon Straits, separating Honshu and Kyushu

6: And transported to Osaka, Edo, the Japanese cities by the sea, and every corner of the country

Pag 5

1: Even today, the Kanmon Straits, which passes through Shimonoseki, and Kitakyushu City, and Moji, is the shortest route that connects the Inland Sea and the Sea of Japan, and is a key point for the shipping through sea

2: 1000 ships a day pass through the complex strait, which is 500m wide in its narrowest point

3: As for the land route

4: An highway crosses the Kanmon Strait with a huge bridge 1068m long

5: Ordinary national roads and railroads pass through specialized tunnels

6: As for bicycles and people... they use the “pedestrian bridge tunnel” at the bottom of the huge bridge

From Honshu to Kyushu, they can cross over the Kanmon Strait by walking

Pag 6

4: Waaa

We're at the bottom of the sea here?

That's right

5: So above us is the sea?

Yeah

And we can walk to Kyushu?

That's right, it's around 400m from here

Amazing....

6: There's even people with bikes

Yeah

7: Look! There's a line!

It's the prefectural border

8: One, two-

9: Yes! I landed in Kyushu!

Pag 7

1: The entrance to Kyushu is in the northernmost town, Moji, in the prefecture of Fukuoka, Kitakyushu City

Pag 8

1: This is where this year's Inter High will start

Pag 9

3: Where do I put this baggage?

Put it in the tent for now

Thank you, senpai

4: Look, The bikes are all lined up

So pretty

Pag 10

1: I took a picture

So cool

2: Two portions of Mijiko curry, please

Yessir

3: A pressure of 6.5?

Six, please

4: Do you have an allen key?

Yes

Pag 11

1: Ohhhh

2: There's so many huge buses!!

Teh!!

3: Nara

4: That one is from Miyazaki

5: Na-Nagano!!

6: And there's so many people, too, teh....!!

7: Are they participants in the race!? All of them!?

You're kidding, they look so strong!!

8: The attendance!! Is on this scale!!

So this is....

Pag 12

1: A national competition!!

2: Teh?

3: Ohh.... suddenly my knees started trembling, teh

Ho- how do I stop it, teh, Ki....

4: Kinaka-kun!!

6: Ki.....

7: “The competition is in Kyushu, so there's no way we can bring everyone along”

8: Kinaka.... kun

Pag 13

1: I'm here!!

Ah, you're here....

2: I'll be a mechanical help for the next three days

And I was entrusted to be your lucky charm

De-he.... oho, ohoho, fuhoho!! What's that enigmatic way of laughing!!

3: Don't act like I didn't come!!

No... I just wanted to reaffirm again how grateful I am that you came, Kinaka-kun...

Ah!? That doesn't make any sense

4: It does!!

Pag 14

1: Because I really am grateful to you, Kinaka-kun!!

3: And I think this jersey is for the both of us!!

5: Don't say you're grateful so directly

It's embarrassing!!

6: Let's go to the tent!!

Yeah!!

You

7: It's your first Inter High but you're not all that nervous!!

That's somehow incredible

8: Yeah!!

After all

Pag 15

1: We have the strongest senpai!!

Pag 16

1: Ohhh

Waaa

2: It's Sohoku!!

It's Sohoku, the two-times in a row champion!!

Sohoku is in Kyushu!!

3: What a terrific aura!

Waaa

Onoda.... Naruko, Imaizumi!!

They look serious!!

Are they aiming for the championship again this year!?

Pag 17

1: They're going to get their number bibs

They're heading straight for the reception!!

Yes, all the participants are lining up in a row there

2: Oi, you're interrupting....

3: Sorry-

Ah

Soho-

Waa

Waaa-

5: -ku's...... bibs....

Pag 18

1: ….. please

2: Is he..... nervous....!? The reigning champion, Sohoku!?

Did he have a nervous aura?

Maybe the two guys behind him.... were supporting him?

3: They were supporting him, but the jersey came off

5: They're going back to their tent....

So that's Sohoku... right

7: So-so- sorry, I got nervous!!

Yeah

Right

8: La-la-la-la-la

La?

La?

Pag 19

1: I was thinking it's the last Inter High!!

3: For us

Pag 20

4: Yeah

5: That's right

6: That's right, Onoda-kun

We're third years

7: It's our third and final

8: yearly grand stage

Pag 21

1: Once this is over, we'll retire

This Inter High is our last race!!

Pag 23

1: Honestly speaking, I my heart too was pounding when we were on the ship coming here

I was really nervous

2: Naruko-kun....

3: Naruko

4: But then I thought

When we were first years and ran in the Kanagawa competition..... maybe, at the starting point in Enoshima

5: The old man, Kinjou-san, and Makishima-san, too, were as nervous as we are now

Pag 24

1: They must have been

3: But they didn't show it at all to us kouhai

4: Well, we can't afford to show it, either

5: That's why, Manager, we talked and decided to go back to our beginning!!

6: We chased and caught up with those people's back, but this time we're gonna surpass them!!

7: Huh

8: We're changing our numbers from last year!!

Pag 25

1: The old man carried number 172, so I'll take number 2!!

Hotshot will take the number Kinjou-san wore, number 1!!

Pag 26

3: And Onoda-kun....

I....

7: The number Makishima-san carried

Pag 27

1: I'll run wearing the number 3!!

[hella1975]

my dramatic ass pacing circles in the kitchen like im never writing anything ever again bc nothing feels great anymore it just feels good and apparently i will not apply myself even to my most longterm and beloved passion if i can't feel prodigious at it. fym ur gonna stop trying altogether ur also gonna get ur period in the next few days but im sure there's no correlation

[rainofthetwilight]

have been seeing this going around so i decided to make my own!!

(just a disclaimer i havent rewatched some of the seasons in a while so i did this according to what i remember)

[hzrnvm]

HISTORY OF LOJBAN, VERY ABRIDGED

Once upon a time, in the 1970s, a group of logicians, linguists, and science fiction fanatics gathered and performed an experiment entitled Loglan, which was later reworked and renamed into Lojban. The goal of the experiment was to create a language meeting the following criteria (among others): easy for computers, based on predicate logic, syntactically unambiguous, and interesting.

Suddenly, while mixing these criteria into a big pot, the vial of "interesting" cracked, and all the "interesting" spilled into the pot! That's way more "interesting" than any of them intended. Suddenly, the noses of nerds from across the world started perking up. "What's that we smell?" said the nerds. They floated along the aroma and found Lojban, and they said "Wow! This is so cool!" and immediately began eating it like a school of piranhas. "I propose a reform of the gadri!", said one. "I invented an experimental pseudo-number that is unequal to itself, for subscripting!" said another. "I made a new dialect!" said yet another. They wouldn't stop. They debated Lojbanic theory. They wrote essays, they argued, they translated.

The Lojban community grew and grew. But eventually things began to slow. After the rapid growth of from the late 90s throughout the early 2000s, things began to slow in the late 2010s. The "Lojban Timeline" page on the Lojban wiki hasn't been edited since June 2020. The front page hasn't since February 2020.

Now what's left, beyond sporadic remaining nerds on Discord and IRC, is the archives. Decades of nerdiness and theory documented in the IRC records, the wiki essays, the Google Groups posts from days of yore. The year is 2023. Lojban was an experiment that got bigger than was expected. And I am committed to acting autistic about Lojban.

[orcelito]

Wild that anytime I post an update a lot of people read it and are even excited about it and have their own thoughts and reactions to it that I'll never know.

Comments are only the very tip of the iceberg with it. And I am Very grateful to commenters for letting me in on it. But in the same way that I'll be excited with my friends when a fic we love updates, it's likely that Other people enthuse with Their friends when my fic updates. And it's just so strange. An experience I'll never have access to.

Everyone's relationship with my fic is unique. So many different people with so many different circumstances and preferences... and the number of people that have told me that my fic is one of their favorites, some even saying it's their Favorite favorite... every single one of them have their own relationship with my writing.

It's just interesting to me. I think and think and think on my writing. I have my plans for basically the entire fic, the way I want it to end already thought out, all the major plot beats and the relationship progressions, All of that thought out. I love my writing so very much, but I'm on the inside looking out. This is my mechanical horse, and I'm in here laying out the groundwork and pulling levers and constructing limbs, puttering away making the horse move. Forever and always, my relationship with it will be more intimate than anyone's, and yet more clinical. Because I know it better than the back of my own hand, but I'll never have the experience of reading it fresh. Of reading it without knowing everything that's going to happen from now to the end and beyond. I won't have the thrill of the plot twists I have planned, the delight at seeing things progress, the horror at seeing things go wrong...

This is my mechanical horse, and I'm making it move.

I just always wonder what it must be like to see it from the outside. I hope to others that it's a pretty horse.

[melrosing]

anyway in an absolutely wild turn of events I think I’m free of my hideous job and like. substantially richer for it??? lmao 2023 you really owed me

[cheswirls]

looking @ old fic i started when i was 14/15 is so funny bc im realizing once again why i never mark fics as abandoned even if its been literal years since i've touched them. specifically i was checking docs for stuff i started and either did or didn't post to ffn.

and its like. nothing is bad??? like i can see where my outside-the-box ideal of fic writing comes from. not just fics but writing in general, i'm p sure. even if it's a total cliche plot setup, there are details on each that rly make it stand out like oh yeahhhhhh i did have this great idea once upon a time.

funny too bc was it executed well in prose??? no absolutely not i wrote like shit when i was 15. would i revive an idea one day and revise it to be less cliche or cringy while still keeping the stand-out elements??? yea maybe. i might. everything i'm currently working on that i started from 2021 up to now still holds my supreme interest, but like i'm not gonna say never.

esp since i write fic first and foremost for my own need and specifically what i like to read, it makes it impossible to consider an idea i've thought extensively about "not worth writing anymore". anyway not making this too long i jus found everything interesting to consider

[beautifel]

seems like my heart does nothing but break lately

[perenlop]

books that changed my brain chemistry at age 9. tbh.

[still-selena-here]

the next and last part of this small snippet: https://www.tumblr.com/sweetbrier2908/736463970496561152?source=share

(or a different ending of season 2)

what day is it? oh, today must be day 268 from the day you completely disappeared from his life.

it’s five o’clock, he is just getting start to write his letter for you. normally, he write those letters when the night ends, when his day is finally over and when his stupid brothers are all asleep so no one can interrupt the stream of his thoughts about you. but today, something is telling satan that he should write a letter for you just right after he wake up, so now, he’s sitting by his desk, a quill on his hand, a blank paper placed in font of him. maybe today he’s going to tell you about his dream. most demons don’t dream (except for when belphie makes them) , it’s the same for satan. he doesn’t dream. normally. but since you were gone, he kept having the same dream over over. in that dream, he were trapped in a castle. it was not like he was “trapped”, there was just something stopping him from going outside. the outside world, when he looked through the windows, he could see the storm was raging on and destroying everything on its path. but maybe it was his imagination, maybe it was not a dream but he could be sure that he saw a light, a small spot of light lingering in the middle of the storm. he thought maybe it was you, so that dream he had over and over from days to days and months to months, is maybe not a nightmare at all. he didn’t know. but today the dream finally ended. he didn’t see you in his sleep though, but somehow he was not trapped in a castle anymore, but somehow he saw himself in RAD student council and there was a small spot of light approaching him. he wants to tell you about all of that, because somehow, he thinks, it is a sign.

it is a sign.

so he wrote about this dream. not sure if this is the kind of story you want to hear but know you love it anyway. you always love stories about them.

he finished his letter (his 268th letter and maybe, he hopes, his last letter) for you, he folded it, put it in a cat-illustrated envelope, sealed it with green wax and placed it in the box with the other 267 letter he had written. and he can imagine the look on your face when he gives you the box filled with all the stories he wants you to hear, your face will light up and maybe you will cry a little. don’t you worry, he will be next to you to wipe those tears away. then you will throw your arms around him and pull him into a hug, and then maybe he will place his lips on yours just to feel that you are for real. and you both would be so happy, only if you came back, only if he saw you again.

it’s 6 o’clock. it’s time for him to prepare breakfast. despite your disappearance, they still have to try to keep it together. he still has his duty like everyone else, he still has his life to carry on even when everyday he misses you so much and it is getting hard to breathe.

it’s 6 o’clock on the 268th day since you were gone.

satan is just getting downstairs. he hears a small sound from the door, it’s probably asmo or mammon, who just come back from their nights out, he cannot care less. but he still heads to the door anyway because that’s just the way satan does thing.

but there is no asmo or mammon standing at the door, there is just a human. the human.

and there is a voice he has not heard for 268 days.

“satan?”

he looks up, and it's you standing at the door.

devildom sky is always dark, but somehow now it's brighter than ever.

and when his arms finally wrap around your warm body, there is only one thought in his mind - luckily, you don’t miss a single story.

thank you for reading. i did cry a little while writing it.

[reki-of-the-valley]

You know whats a wild experience? It's being 14, looking for your sister who's a decade older than you, so you go to her room, but she's not there, but her computer is open so you peek at what she's been doing to see she was writing smut and immediately running away because that's gross. Then. Almost a decade later, living in that same room, sitting at that very same desk, writing smut yourself.

[iggy-hands]

I still can't believe ofmd is a show set in the 18th century, and they Went to a party of aristocrat's together, And we STILL didn't get to see them dance together

They did all that prep about which fork to use but no - "okay! I'll quickly show you some very basic dances just in case!"

they denied us awkward clammy hand holding, stiff jilted movements, stepping on toes, not yet familiar with each others patterns, the spinning and spinning and the thrill of finally getting it right, bodies moving as one, faces inches apart hot breath intermingling, lingering eye contact, dizzy from the spinning and perhaps something more, holding each other that second longer than needed not wanting to be the first to let go, not wanting to be the first to break the illusion because they are, in that moment, the only two people in the entire universe, distant canon fire suddenly requiring attention, a final awkward laugh and a bashful glance upward, both secretly wanting more, both hoping for a next time

[hecksupremechips]

The best feeling in the world is when there’s a piece of media you know you love and you’ve hyped it up as your favorite thing for so long but you haven’t revisited it in a while so you start to worry if it’s really as good as you make it out to be and so you go back and revisit it and it’s like. Oh this is even better than I remembered this shit rules