#she didn't know

[goldlightsaber]

it's the way that tom called shiv first. twice. and she didn't pick up. and so she was the last one to attempt to say any words to logan, after he was already dead. tom thought of her, first, and she's going to remember that she didn't pick up for the rest of her life

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

iGoodbye | iMake New Memories

[cotl-inspiteofyou]

Question for the Lamb: How is it that you have horns? Last time I checked, only Rams have horns, but you're an ewe. Their peculiar shape and color is also curious. Do you know why?

[lastofthe20thcenturygirls]

it just feels so tragic while she loved him as a loyal fan he was in love with her all this time and before that but she didn't even know... idk there's a loneliness to it all

[lady-a-stuff]

I look fine and nice but inside my head is screaming

SHE DIDN'T KNOW HE WOULD COME

SHE DIDN'T KNOW

[xonlictheeverswarm]

Oh no.

[stuff-kids-say]

Me: (training another swim coach) Hey, Josie, do you like Coach M? Do you think she's the best?

Josie: No, you're the best!

Me: Aww, that's very nice of you! Well, she's the second best, right?

Josie: No.

Me: Uh... is she third best?

Josie: No. She's 16th best.

[cyllenean]

Ask you anything

What we eating

When your best friend finally started using her Tumblr account from 2010 for the first time. 🤭

[vraska-theunseen]

DID YOU ALL KNOW THAT YOU CAN DO WHATEVER UOU WANT WHEN YOURW MAKING ART ISNT THAT WILD

[tsibeyantiger]

I never fully realised how heartbreaking this "I choose the prophecy" thing is. Imagine you are Annabeth. Imagine you are fourteen and the boy you have a crush on since over a year just broke literally any rule, travelled across the whole country and held the dam sky to save you, and you hear him say: "I'm gonna die in two years, because otherwise this poor little boy would have to carry the burden of the prophecy and I can't let this happen."

Edit: I feel like y'all still aren't sobbing enough, so I'd also like to remind you that six months later, Annabeth goes into the labyrinth and gets the prophecy "and your love will face a fate worse than death".

[wretchedbirdthing]

incredible. outstanding.

[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.

[demigods-posts]

sometimes. i just have to remind myself that percy took annabeth to paris. like, canonically. he forgot their one-month anniversary. and took his girl to paris to make up for it. the standards are in elysium.

[bean-pronounced-bawn]

I'm so fucking done with my coworker. I've been sad about the fact that I'm leaving in less than a month but she made me want to leave like now. I want out. Fuck her and fuck this job.

[bet-on-me-13]

Tucker's mom invites him to Take Your Son to Work Day

So! Tucker hasn't talked to his mom in a little while, he usually stays with his Dad and Step-Mom in Amity, but every once in a while he'll go over to Washington DC to visit his Bio Mom.

And she recently just called him to ask if he wanted to visit the White House on Bring your Child to Work Day. She works there as the Secretary of Defense, and he is actually really interested in what she does for work.

So, he get picked up and taken to Washington, where he meets up with his Mom.

Amanda Waller.

...

For the record, Amanda Waller knows she's not a good person, and Definitely not a Good Mom. But she thinks she is at least semi-decent, look, she even invited her son to Bring Your Child To Work Day!

And look how much fun he is having running around the Argus Labs! She knew he was a Tech Geek, but he is really getting into it.

Right now he's looking at their Confiscated Alien Tech, and the smile on his face is actually making Amanda feel a little happy. Oh, what's he doing now? What's he doing with the Coffee Maker? Why is he taking that Screwdriver from that Toolbo-

What is he doing with the Alien Tech?!

She rushes over to stop him, but stops dead in her tracks when she sees what he did. Somehow, he had just taken a Busted Alien Cooling Unit, took some parts from the Coffee Maker, and turned it into a Freeze Ray.

"Oh, sorry Mom. Do you want me to put it back the way it was?"

"...do you want a Job?"

"...I'm 14."