#ur NOT taking this away from me

[vampmcr]

ive just realised im very allergic to wine ??????????????????, everything makes sense

[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.

[hinamie]

choke you back like fingers

[nappingpaperclip]

y’all we r not beating exorsexism and misogyny by calling every transmasc that pisses u off a ‘theyfab.’ Idc if they are annoying or have dumbass opinions, literally using someone’s agab as an insult is wrong and treating transmascs as annoying little afabs is deeply misogynistic and transphobic. What happened to just calling people fucking idiots

[yuwuta]

gojo would kill your work husband. but if he were the work husband, that's a different story

REAL!! he’s such a hypocrite because if someone mentioned you had a work husband, his entire world would stop and he wold devise the absolute worst plans to make sure that your co-worker, everyone at your job, and everyone in the next building over knew that he was happily committed to you 

but if he is the work husband, he’s very........ dutiful in his role. there’s a loose office/lawyer au in my head where satoru is your secretary, and for all intents and purposes, your personal assistant, and he’s good at his job, but mostly because he considers his job to be pleasing you. he has coffee for you when you arrive, he moves your schedule around without you asking, he has answers to questions before you can even ask them, he has fresh flowers on your desk weekly, pokes into your meetings to pretend to hand you a file that’s really just maybe a single document in a manilla folder with candy on top of it—he’s made himself your business, your partner; he’s made himself irreplaceable, and he loves to remind everybody of that fact. 

he’s also extremely loyal. sure, he could day a week’s worth of work done in about a day, but that doesn’t mean he’ll just use his talents for anybody. he’s your secretary, so he’s at your beck and call, and everyone knows it. they know he’s the best, but also that he’s off limits—not because you won’t share him, but because satoru won’t let himself be shared. 

he also extends his duties beyond work, of course. when he hands you a print out of your schedule for the day and you’re confused by the three-hour block of time you have in the middle of the day, satoru just helps you shrug your coat of your shoulders and smiles, “that’s for the lunch date you have with me, of course!” hanging up your coat in your closet for you, “i’m paying, see you soon, sweets.” and because you’re great at your job, and satoru helps you be great, nobody really questions when the two of you have time for a 13-course tasting menu at 1pm on a tuesday afternoon. and if they did, all satoru would say that you two had a lovely date 

[lunarmoves]

moon was being more irate than usual.

well... 'irate' wasn't exactly the right word. he was just... quieter and tended to grumble more to himself when he thought you weren't listening or around. at first you figured he was just going through one of those phases of his where he preferred to observe the things around him for extended periods of time. or maybe he was thinking back to his time at the plex, the memories tinged at the edges by the fire that had consumed it whole. either way, you didn't press him and decided to just... leave him be.

you thought giving him some space would help him and eventually let him snap out of whatever funk he was in. but it only seemed to make him worse, and you had no idea why.

you didn't want to invade into his space and demand him to let you know what was wrong. it would only drive him further away, and you were all too familiar with how easy it was for him to avoid you in your own home. you didn't want to ask sun what was wrong either, as moon would definitely immediately know of your prying and would probably get upset.

so you just... continued on as normal. after all, chores needed to be done and bills needed to be paid.

and maybe that was the wrong thing to do. maybe it just made things build up and up and up until moon was overflowing in whatever had plagued him all this time.

you were woken up, one night, by a bright red light that shined directly onto your face.

you squinted up, blinking slowly as the light coalesced into two eyes with white pupils that stared down at you from above. moon's face was directly over yours, hovering not too close, but not too far either. you lifted a hand to rub at your right eye, mind sluggishly trying to catch up with what had just occurred.

"moon," you sleepily mumbled, still trying to adjust to the light, "wuzz wrong? why'd you wake me up?"

he didn't say anything, just continued to stand crouched over your figure laying in bed. you could barely make out his figure, with how dark it was. his nightcap dangled from the side of his faceplate, the bell at the end brushing lightly against your cheek. you waited a few seconds, then pulled up your blanket further to bury yourself into it. "moon, c'mon, you know i have work in th'mornin'."

you had full intentions to go back to sleep, but he didn't let you get comfortable. as soon as you'd closed back your eyes, he reached out a hand and gently shook your shoulder. you jerked back awake and gave him a look that you're not sure translated well through your sleepiness. it got him to finally speak, though.

"wake up," he whispered, giving your shoulder another small shake. you groggily blinked at him, confused. "...spend time with me."

"wuh?" you eloquently asked, then slowly blinked yourself awake once you realized how unhappy he looked. you slowly sat up. he leaned away to give you some space and you turned your body so you could face him better as he crouched down by the side of your bed. "what's wrong?" you asked again softly, as though any louder might scare him away or cause him to lock up.

he didn't answer, just reached out a metallic hand so he could hold onto your much warmer one in a tight grip. you gently used your other hand to touch the edge of his faceplate, tilting it up so he could meet your gaze.

"hey," you said gently, "tell me what's wrong. i can't help you if you don't say anything."

moon watched you for a moment, then directed his gaze back to your hand and let his thumb swipe across your skin. you let your hand fall from his face to rest in your lap. you waited, and your patience was eventually rewarded.

"you go to work," he started in a low voice tinged with static from his voice box. "you come back. you hang out with sun for hours. you get ready for bed." you tilted your head as he spoke, wondering where he was going with this. he paused for a second, as though collecting his thoughts, then continued. "you take off the lights. you go to sleep after an hour. and i am alone."

you considered his words, then his expression as he focused on avoiding your gaze. the corners of your lips downturned as it slowly clicked together in your mind what he was implying.

"oh," you breathed and moved your free hand so that it rested on top of his. you clutched at it. "i haven't been spending much time with you, huh?"

he grumbled a little and closed his eyes. "sun gets all the awake time with you." his words were no louder than a whisper—an admission he'd been ruminating on for weeks.

"i'm sorry," you said, the realization making something melancholy line your voice. with you being active for most of the day and sleeping for practically all of the night, it never really occurred to you that there would be an imbalance with sun and moon's time spent with you in their individual forms. "i didn't realize... i..." you frowned, then tugged at his wrist. "come here."

you scooted over in bed and lifted up the blanket—an open invitation. he stared at you for a moment, the light of his eyes swathing your bed sheets in shades of ruby. then carefully, so very carefully, he slipped in beside you and lay there stiffly as you covered the both of you with the blanket and cozied up closer to him.

you rested your head on his metal shoulder. it was hard, but it didn't bother you for now. you let out a deep breath and wrapped one of your arms across his chest. "i promise i'll spend more time with you, okay?" you told him quietly, eyes already closed as you readied yourself to sleep again. you were tired, and there wasn't anything you could do at the moment other than reassure him. "we'll turn the lights off early and close the curtains. how's that sound?"

moon hummed and seemed to accept his fate for the night as he used one of his arms to pull you closer. "okay..." he'd been sated, it seemed, and he finally relaxed into the softness of your mattress. something cold pressed to the top of your head. "...good night, love."

you smiled. "good night, moon."

[just-null]

are you oka- oh.

[shorthaltsjester]

free my complex female character, she did the same thing as complex male characters but the fandom takes Any analysis of her actions/choices/motivations that doesn’t strip her of all of her agency in bad faith and claims that only misogynists would dare to critique the things that they’ve noticed in her character because she’s a woman, completely ignoring the over-presence of discourse about similarly traited male characters in their fandom.

[femmesandhoney]

fucking hate monkeys they're so terrifying. saw a joke like haha lets give monkeys smartphones and see what they post yall are idiots monkeys are stupid af and shouldn't be given anything that can be used as a blunt weapon.

[squinkoblinko]

he can’t finish this what the hell have you done

here’s some silly mariokart screenshots of him btw love this guy

[vehemourn]

went to post this on twitter but i didnt wanna get banned . crazy that u can scrape my entire lifes work and i cant even tell u to die over it <3

[keii]

Zen being the coveting third wheel in Yoosung and MC's relationship, but yet they're still friends lmao

[fisheito]

my princess nonsense is being encouraged watch ouyt imabout to be eneaabled

OK WHATF ATHAT'S SO CUTE I HAD TO MAKE IT i know realistically there's little to no chance that rei DOESN'T know how to work heels 🤣 BUT IMAGINE.....ING.... YAKUMO GENTLY GUIDING REI IN HEELS, WEEKS BEFORE THE BIG GALA AND HAVING NONE OF HIS NORMAL FEAR OF PHYSICAL TOUCH BC HIS [TEACHER MODE] IS OVERRIDING HIS INSECURITY

[martyrbat]

ghosts - batman: haunted knight

[ID: A multi panel sequence of Bruce Wayne as a child on Halloween. He's dressed up in a Mask of Zorro costume and is excitedly running down the stairs while holding two swords, calling out for his mother happily. He tells her that he's ready to go trick or treating. Martha Wayne has her hand on his shoulder and is smiling as she tells him, “your costume looks great!” Bruce replies, “Thanks, I made it myself. Alfred sorta helped. Is dad home yet?” Martha draws her hand back hesitantly and says his name. Bruce already knows that that means there's bad news. He tells her, “don't tell me,” before she continues and says his father called. Bruce has his head down, angrily finishing her sentence, “he's gotta work late!” He looks out the window as if his father will appear and says, “It's not fair! He promised he would take me trick or treating!” Martha soothes that she knows as Bruce repeats, “he promised,” to himself disappointedly. She tells him, “But there was an emergency,” which makes Bruce snap, “There's always some emergency!”

Bruce continues to stand in front of the window as Martha looks at him. Bruce announces, “I'm gonna wait for him. Even if it takes all night!” as he tensely clenches the handle of his sword. Martha reaches out for him sadly and suggests, “Bruce, I could take you out myself. Or, we can call some of the other children at school and go out with them.” Bruce, as an adult, somberly says off panel that, “she doesn't know...” as his kid self stares out the window still. His hat casting a small shadow on his face as he tells her, “There are no other kids to call. I have no friends at school.” Martha says his name again but doesn't know how to comfort him. Instead, she just silently places a hand on his shoulder. We see a silhouette from far away of her standing next to him as Bruce waits for his father to eventually come home. END ID]

[kuromi-hoemie]

when you ask a restaurant for spicy food and instead of cooking it in a way that makes the end result hotter they just obliterate all the flavor by dumping heaps of sriracha all over it after the fact