#like what the FUCK are you kidding me

[fox-mulder-gets-pegged]

I just wanna say bc I KNOW you're somewhere on tumblr, to the teenage girl who attended Take Your Kid To Work Day at an office building in Ontario, Canada circa 2013 and had a conversation with a middle aged woman in which you showed her your Black Veil Brides fanart and fanfics and ship content and told her about different fanfic tropes including a/b/o verse bc she happened to know who Panic! at The Disco and Fallout Boy were and thus you felt the need to show her your bandblr ship art, that was my fucking mother and I had to clarify all that to her including looking my mother in the eye and trying to explain a/b/o verse without sounding like a lunatic.

It's been 10 years and I still regularly sent evil energies in your direction. Since you'd be probably two years younger than me and thus legally an adult now, please know if this post reaches you it's on sight.

[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.

[uncanny-tranny]

I recall saying this before, but it bears repeating:

There could be a billion trans people in the world and it still wouldn't be a bad thing because being trans is not a bad thing. Even if the rate of people discovering they are trans is "disproportionate" to trends from decades ago, that is not a bad thing. In fact, it's a natural consequence for there being more trans people being able to stay alive, and, overall, being able to live in a slightly more tolerant world. You'd only see that as a bad thing if you actively didn't want trans people to either live or live a life that facilitates wellness.

[zivazivc]

this came to me in a dream

Floyd's emo ass and a techno troll could make scene kids...! Do you see my vision??? . . . Ravin is Happy Hardcore and Eddy M is Synth-Pop, that's how troll genetics work, right?

anyway...

i don't think floyd leads a proud life

[elodieunderglass]

[ipostmysimpingstuffanonymously]

I fixed it

[puppyeared]

personal character design headcanons + brainrot

Note: the re-bound!au does NOT belong to me, it belongs to @chipper-smol I’m just not normal about it lol

[autisticaradiamegido]

day 147

psychically induced chronic illness squad

[fyoht]

oh my god. look at him. what a little bitch.

[astrobei]

in my heart of hearts mike wheeler is absolutely an athena kid but i also have to offer up a concept that i think has extreme comedic and dramatic potential aka: repressed gay teenager mike showing up at camp half blood unsure of who his godly parent is and feeling insecure about not having powers and one day when he’s making not-so-secret heart eyes at his best friend and son of apollo will byers is when a bunch of glowing floating hearts show up above his head. and that’s how mike gets claimed by none other than aphrodite, the goddess of love and sexuality, and is in full denial about it for three days because he thinks it’s some kind of sick and twisted JOKE

(on aphrodite’s end, she’s upset mike is throwing away the gift of true love and keeps trying to trick him out of repression by making more and more improbable and hilarious gifts appear when he and will are hanging out. mike hands will a book and it turns into a box of chocolates and he has to fling it away like a frisbee before will sees it. they’re having lunch and romantic music starts playing. she gives mike the same blessing she used to claim piper and will can’t even look in his direction for a full day because he starts blushing so hard. fifty bouquets of flowers show up at the apollo cabin’s doorstep with a note that says love, mike and by the end of it, mike isn’t even repressed and unsure about his sexuality anymore — he’s just trying to not throw himself into the bonfire out of sheer embarrassment)

[hazel2468]

"UWU op defends Israel UWU"-

Have I not made it clear enough what I think of the Israeli government? Have I not made it clear enough that what infuriates me the MOST about all of this shit going on is that neither government gives a damn and civilians will CONTINUE to die because Hamas and Netanyahu are cranking that war machine for their own benefit? Have I not made it clear that I think what the Israeli government is doing is fucking horrific, a war crime, murder, a violation of human rights?

Why do I even need to MAKE that clear? Why is it that you can talk about LITERALLY anything else, any other country, and people don't rush to fucking accuse you of personally supporting the government when you discuss the wrongs committed against a people, but the SECOND you're a Jew you have to justify your stance about Israel?

Why is it that I cannot even be angry about the slaughter of MY FUCKING PEOPLE. Innocents. Civilians. Fucking CHILDREN. The slaughter of the Palestinian people. Innocents. Civilians. FUCKING CHILDREN.

Without one of you absolute fucking monsters deciding to slap some shit on an unrelated post about how "uwu op defends an apartheid state just ignore that"? Do you have to make it part of EVERYTHING I do? Do you consider everything I put out there tainted somehow because I don't support your joy, your cheering, your unrestrained GLEE at the murder of Jews? Do I need to publish a fucking thesis on my stance on Israel, Palestine, and their respective governments like a fucking disclaimer any time I want to talk about myself, my oppression, my experience as a Jew, or a disabled person, or a queer person, because you fuckers cannot for five seconds be NORMAL about Jews?

To decide to slap something about Israel and Palestine on a post I made about MY oppression, about how people will oppress you no matter who you actually are- it all depends who they think you are. It's a bit ironic, isn't it? Doesn't QUITE fit, but it's funny that someone would read that post, agree with it, and then think "Ah yes, THIS is the place to put some tags about how OP, a Jew who has been reeling for the last couple of weeks about the violence, who has been checking on their Israeli friends every day to make sure they aren't fucking dead, who is dealing with vicious antisemitism from people who they thought were friends, who watched as the people claiming to be progressive supporters of human rights on this hellsite and others OVERWHELMINGLY reply to the murder of their people with good they deserved it fuck you, is CLEARLY a defender of an apartheid state and that makes them a bad person because something something I don't know what nuance tastes like and I am a bigoted ass."

I am TIRED.

[telesilla]

Not gonna go out on this limb on a 25k post, but maybe it’s okay that kids today don’t know as much about using an actual computer as we do/did? Is it useful knowledge? Of course it is. So is using a sewing machine or being able to rebuild your VW with a copy of that one book every VW driver used to have. That’s not the right question—most practical knowledge is useful after all. The question should be “is it relevant to the way people live right now.” “How to Keep Your VW Alive” is a timeless fucking classic; my ex and I kept our copy long after he sold his VW. But I’m not buying a copy now because it won’t exactly help me keep my VW ID4 on the road.

And it’s funny, because I tend to read along with those posts and nod my head, because back in my day we HAD to know all that computer stuff. And then for some reason today, I remembered a conversation my mom and I had with my grandma in the mid 70s when I was a teenager. Grandma made my mom’s wedding dress. She worked at a department store doing alterations on foundation wear, which if you look at 1950s foundation wear, you’ll realize was both necessary and difficult. So she was shocked when I said most of my friends didn’t know their way around a sewing machine. “But how do you make sure your clothes fit?!” Well, Grandma, people don’t wear heavy foundation wear any more and clothes don’t need to be as tailored as they did back in the day—it’s 1975 and the only alterations I need to do is hemming my flares so they just touch the floor when I’m wearing platforms.

Now you can back up and look at the broader picture, the one that says, but your car should be repairable by you as long as you have clear instructions, and you should be able to alter your clothes or make your own, and yes, you should know how to organize the files on the desktop of your laptop. But the fact that for the most part it’s become easier and easier to just not do those things (if they can be done at all) isn’t exactly the fault of Kids Today. And it’s certainly not meeting them where they are or even trying to understand why they feel they don’t need that knowledge if, instead of looking at why they don’t have it and maybe even don’t need it, you just decry their lack of the Deep Wisdom.

[inkskinned]

they want to talk about mental illness and acceptance and how everyone is a little ocd it's cute and quirky and their "intrusive thoughts" are about cutting their hair off and you say yours are about taking a razorblade to your eye and they say ew can you not and everyone is a little adhd sometimes! except if you're late it's a personality flaw and it's because you are careless and cruel (and someone else with adhd mentions they can be on time, so why can't you?) and it's not an eating disorder if it's girl dinner! it's not mania if it's girl math! what do you mean you blew all of your savings on nonrefundable plane tickets for a plane you didn't even end up taking. what do you mean that you are afraid of eating. get over it. they roll their little lips up into a sneer. can you not, like, trauma dump?

they love it on them they like to wear pieces of your suffering like jewels so that it hangs off their tongue in rapiers. they are allowed to arm-chair diagnose and cherrypick their poisons but you can't ever miss too many showers because that's, like, "fuckken gross?" so anyone mean is a narcissist. so anyone with visual tics is clearly faking it and is so cringe. but they get to scream and hit customer service employees because well, i got overwhelmed.

you keep seeing these posts about how people pleasers are "inherently manipulative" and how it's totally unfair behavior. but you are a people pleaser, you have an ingrained fawn response. in the comments, you have typed and deleted the words just because it is technically true does not make it an empathetic or kind reading of the reaction about one million times. it is technically accurate, after all. you think of catholic guilt, how sometimes you feel bad when doing a good deed because the sense of pride you get from acting kind - that pride is a sin. the word "manipulation" is not without bias or stigma attached to it. many people with the fawn response are direct victims of someone who was malignantly manipulative. calling the victims manipulative too is an unfair and unkind reading of the situation. it would be better and more empathetic to say it is safety-seeking or connection-seeking behavior. yes, it can be toxic. no, in general it is not intended to be toxic. there is no reason to make mentally ill people feel worse for what we undergo.

you type why is everyone so quick to turn on someone showing clear signs of trauma but you already know the fucking answer, so what's the point of bothering. you kind of hate those this is what anxiety looks like! infographics because at this point you're so good at white-knuckling through a severe panic attack that people just think you're stoic. even people who know the situation sometimes comment you just don't seem depressed. and you're not a 9 year old white kid so there's no way you're on the spectrum, you're not obsessed with trains and you were never a good mathematician. okay then.

mental illness is trending. in 2012 tumblr said don't romanticize our symptoms but to be fair tiktok didn't exist yet. there's these series of videos where someone pretends to be "the most boring person on earth" and is just being a normal fucking person, which makes your skin crawl, because that probably means you are boring. your friend reads aloud a profile from tinder - no depressed bitches i fucking hate that mental illness crap. your father says that medication never actually works.

you still haven't told your grandmother that you're in therapy. despite everything (and the fact it's helping): you just don't want her to see you differently.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

wally learned something new today!!! why doesn't he show us what-

ah.

[stsghrs]

"Don't worry, I'm the strongest" "Nah, I'll win"

LIES LIES LIES

ALL MEN DO IS LIE

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

How You Turn My World; Chapter 4

You finally find your way into the labyrinth, coming across some new and old faces; both friendly and malicious.

Character; Lilia Vanrouge

Content; Gender-neutral reader, reader is getting tired of being stuck here and smelling like a bog

Content Warnings; Swearing, some talk of death, reader passes out

Word Count; 2.2 K

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |

As per usual, don't put my work into AI.

You were finally making some decent progress, what, with not being stuck in some bog and knowing somewhat of where you were going. A vast improvement really! Well, it would be, but unfortunately, you still reeked of rotten eggs and skunk — apparently the bog stench only got worse the longer it stayed on.

“Why did it have to dump me into the swamp,” you huffed, rounding yet another corner. “Like, it could have dumped me beside the water, but, no, no, let’s dump the magicless human right into the putrid bog water! A good guffaw, don’t you think? Ha ha ha HA!”

At least your au de Bog of Eternal Stench kept any would-be assailants away since you hadn’t run into anything (besides a rose bush, ouch) since you started making your way through the labyrinth. So maybe it wasn’t all that bad… damn, maybe your sense of smell was just used to it… hey, if stink helps you not die, then you would gladly stay stinky! Well, bitterly stay stinky is more like it.

“Assholes,” you muttered, rounding another corner. 

But it wasn’t a corner; it was a crossroad. Three paths merged off of the one you were on.

… aren’t labyrinths just one long line? THIS IS A FUCKING MAZE?! You groaned, looking at your possible options which all looked exactly the same.

Decisions, decisions, decisions. Of course nothing is easy here, no no no! Gotta make things difficult now.

The hedge behind you rustled, and you whipped around, getting into a stance where you could either land a pretty good sucker punch to the hedge-stalker or make a mad dash away. But out of the hedge crawled out a small, fuzzy, caterpillar. And back at home you would have thought it was cute, but you learned your lesson from the doors; don’t trust it, or anyone for that matter.

You looked down at the caterpillar, and the caterpillar looked up at you, blinking slowly. 

What are the chances… 

“Do you know a way out,” you asked the caterpillar, crouching down so that you didn’t tower over it.

The caterpillar blinked at you again (apparently caterpillars in the Underground have eyelids, which isn’t the weirdest thing considering everything). “No,” it chirped and continued crawling on its merry way, wherever that may be. “But you’ll find the way.” And it disappeared into the growth of the maze, humming a little tune to itself.

You sighed, and pushed yourself back up, straightening out your shoulders and looking up to the sky. “I’ll find a way,” you breathed, looking up at the cloudless sky which was starting to turn a brilliant amber with the setting sun. “I might want to find a way is more like it.”

You looked back down to the ground, looking at the three paths in front of you. They all look the same, save for the ground making up paths themselves, with the middle and right paths looking well worn with travel. And while they may be well worn, there was a voice at the back of your head that was whispering caution. The left-most path was not as well travelled, with dead vines covering parts of it.

“Hopefully you’re right, little buddy since I could use all the luck I can get.” And you made your way down the path, hoping that it was the correct one and didn’t lead you to your death or some other unpleasant thing.

…

…

Lilia was at the entrance of the labyrinth, in front of the two doors.

“Have you seen a human, about this tall, a bit of a temper, and smelling foul,” he asked the doors.

The doors looked at each other before looking at Lilia. “And what’s it to you,” they said in unison.

Lilia smiled, but it was one of mild annoyance, not joy or amusement. “Royal orders I fear. You wouldn’t want the mistress finding out about you both tampering with a royal matter, would you?” The smile turned cat-like since Lilia had backed them into a corner.

The doors paled, with the blue door speaking up. “No no, sir! We would never dream of such a thing!!! Yes, there was a human, a wretched one at that, horribly rude!”

Lilia hummed, cocking a brow at the door. “I do think wretched is a bit of an overstatement now,” he whispered to himself. “Well, tell me where about they are then. The sooner I can collect them, the better for you lot.”

The red door sighed, “Near the heart of it, they took the left path.”

Left path? Why the left path leads to… Shit. Lilia mentally groaned, knowing that regardless of the path you took, you would end up having to deal with them eventually. “Your cooperation has been noted,” is what he said though, giving the doors both a nod before turning into a bat and flying over the labyrinth, trying to find you before you ran into whoever them was.

“Please be clever enough not to die,” he whispered to no one, hoping that he didn’t have to deliver your body to the Queen.

…

…

The left path brought you to what looked like a forest; with old-growth trees, ferns and moss covering the ground, and a list mist hanging in the air. It was peaceful and beautiful, with the setting sun illuminating the mist without burning it away.

But that would not last, night was fast approaching and you had nothing to protect you this time; no rowan tree to haul your ass up, and no sort of weapon to protect yourself besides the oh-so-lovely smell of the bog to deter something from eating you. You were pretty sure it would also keep away anything that wanted to otherwise snatch you up.

“AH!” Something jumped out from a tree, and you couldn’t fully register what it was since you were also screeching, much like the creature was at you; you with fright, the creature with amusement and joy.

Two other creatures jumped out from behind the trees and startled cackling, jumping, and clapping. Together, they surrounded you, with no way to really escape them without fighting through.

… you really should have read about fae species, since you didn’t know what they exactly were, or how dangerous they were either. 

One pulled you near a pit and lit a fire, cackling in glee and dancing, trying to get you to join them. “Ah come on, human, have some fun! DANCE BABEY!!!!”

But you stayed still as more creatures came out of the shadows, dancing around the fire, giggling, cackling, and pulling a bit at your clothes to prompt you to join them. You didn’t know, cementing your feet down, your eyes watching their movements with caution.

‘Should you dance with the fae, you shall not stop dancing until you exhaust yourself. And once you wake up, you will continue dancing. This cycle will repeat itself until you dance to death.’ 

At least that was what the book said, and so you stayed still, regardless of how much the creatures pulled at you. While it looked like a grand old time, you remained where you were.

“I don’t have time for dancing,” you answered coldly, flinching from pinching fingers. You were also a bit shocked that Eau de Bog of Eternal Stench wasn’t keeping them away. Either, they couldn’t smell, or, they didn’t care that you smelled downright awful. “So this ‘baby’ won’t dance.”

And should I be offended by you calling me ‘baby’ or am I reading too much into it?

The main creature just shrugged and spun its dancing partner around. “Your loss human! More fun for us then! YIPPEE!!!” And it threw something in the fire to where you could feel the heat on your face.

What now? You were just standing there awkwardly as the creatures danced about, singing something that you couldn’t really make out. All you knew was that the heat, noise, and the dizzying dance of them was making your head pound, and throat scream in thirst. You hadn’t drank anything for over a day(?) — no, bog water did not count — and the heat from the fire made the thirst only worse. Shit.

“Ah, you don’t look too… hot there human,” one of the creatures snickered at its own joke at your expense. “Maybe if you dance with us, loosen up and have a bit of fun, then you can have a drink? Hmm? Dancing won’t kill you!” But its failed attempts at covering up its own malicious giggles were more than enough to stand your ground… which was coming at you quite fast since you practically collapsed.

Was it the thirst? The pounding migraine that wanted nothing more than to crawl into some dark hole and hide? Or your exhaustion from making that tiring trek, crawling yourself out of the bog and making the trek again, or the hours you had spent wandering around the maze with no real idea of where you were going? All you really knew was that you were now on the ground with the creatures poking at you to see if you were still alive.

“Aw, man! Are they already dead? That’s no fun!” One of the creatures pouted, raising up your arm, and you let it plop back to the ground. “Come on human! Get up! You’re not a party pooper are you?”

Scre you buddy! Can’t you read the situation?!

You were trying your best to stay quiet, which wasn’t all that hard, since all of your energy was gone. 

“They best not be,” a familiar voice called out.

From your position, you couldn’t see who it was, but you could make out the creatures jumping away from you like you were the hot fire instead of the fire pit. But someone else was approaching until you could make out a pair of shoes in front of your face.

They crouched down beside you, placing their fingers gently at the base of your throat; taking your pulse. “Hmph, playing dead, are we, Beastie?”

That irritating chuckle. The annoying nickname. Those mischievous magenta eyes that now looked at you with curiosity and amusement.

It was him — Mr. Sparkles.

And he had just blown your act of playing possum (well, not really, since you had actually collapsed).

But you didn’t say anything, instead favouring to give him a dirty look. Yet he just shook his head in jest, and proceeded to pick you up and wrap you around his shoulders and neck like some sort of bizarre ermine pelt; better than being carried like a sack of potatoes or the bridal carry you supposed.

“Her majesty sends her regards for not turning or killing her guest,” Lilia offered the creatures. It would be such a waste and pity to see such an entertaining Beastie leave us too soon now. “But do know she won’t take to their condition lightly.”

My condition? I’m not some Victorian child with some unknown illness wreaking havoc on their body you know?! But all that you did was groan and cough. You couldn’t even cough in Mr. Sparkles’ (Lilia’s) face, since you had a lovely view of the moss-covered ground and the fae’s shoes.

He patted the back of your calves, and you would have kicked him if you had more energy, but you didn’t. “Now, we really should be off, since Beastie has… an hour to get out of this maze before they turn into some sort of worm, or a hedge; never know what this old labyrinth will decide on really.” Lilia chuckled at the thought (was it merriment, or was he happy that you weren’t joining the caterpillar you met earlier?).

“No,” you wheezed. “WoRm!”

“See! They said it themself! No worm! How lovely that we are on a similar wavelength, Beastie! Marvellous even!” Lilia exclaimed, and the both of you started levitating off of the ground. “Now, do enjoy your party, Fireys!”

The creatures (Fireys apparently) groaned but got back to their party, dancing around the fire like they didn’t just try to lure you to your death mere minutes before.

“Tsk tsk, Beastie,” Lilia’s tutting brought your attention back to him and you grumbled. “You owe me two favours now, you know. Lucky that I found you… although that part wasn’t hard. I thought you learned your lesson the first time you decided to take a dip into the Bog of Eternal Stench?”

You lightly kicked him, letting your irritation be known, but Lilia just hummed. “Now now, no need to be like that! Do you want to smell like a bog when you meet the mistress? She wouldn’t take kindly to your… unique aroma.”

You hissed out a breath since he decided to pinch at your ear rather harshly — prompting for you to answer. “No,” you whispered hoarsely.

“Also, do read up on that book, since you will want to know about the government and fae species etiquette!”

From a smelly bog and fumbling around a maze for hours on end, to finding yourself being taken to fae high society… was it too late to become some worm in the maze? I think being a worm actually has a better chance of me living.

But sadly, you were saved from an eternity of being a worm. Hopefully, Mr. Sparkles (Lilia) would cover for your blunders a little for when you found yourself in front of ‘the mistress’.

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To be continued!

~~~~~~~

Tags; @afunkyfreshblog @cheezy-moon @eynnwwyjth @identity-theft-101 @ithseem @lucid-stories @ryker-writes @twistwonderlanddevotee @xxoomiii

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