Listening to my favorite blues songs from the 1920's and 1930's makes me feel... strange in a way I can't really articulate well. The audio quality is awful by today's standards and these people are all long dead. How these songs would sound in person like the audio quality we have today, being performed by the people who wrote them, is lost to time forever. They'll never be heard the way they were meant to be heard ever again. Adjacent to that are musicians like Henry Sloan who tutored other legendary blues musicians like Charley Patton, there are many accounts of how innovative the music he made was and that he was a pioneer of delta blues music and how much people responded to his music, but he left no known recordings. Theres not even a known photograph of him. It makes me feel a weird brand of sadness.
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ellie “i’m just a girl”, who is immune to a fungus that mutilates you into a monster while seemingly growing an ecosystem of her own under her fingernails while going on a near suicide revenge mission with dina to single-handedly kill everyone who [redacted] your father who [redacted] everyone else’s father to not only find out your partner is pregnant and it’s not your child but your best friends who randomly shows up and you two proceed to massacre everyone while driving like a maniac through a desolated city and good thing you learned to swim bc boy, is this city filled with water that you trek through to find the person responsible for your fathers [redacted] but in blinded rage you [redacted] both of her friends who were shitty people to begin with and your clothes are constantly wet and you smell like a month old dead clicker as you travel through santa barbara but at least you only lost two fingers, williams
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I have question.
Do you find the feeling of emptiness peaceful?
are. are you talking about literal emptiness, like "the peanut jar is empty," or like metaphorical emptiness, like being void of emotion. /genq
if it's literal, i hate it. maybe this comes from working in retail, but if there's an empty jar or shelf, i fill that fucker up asap. same if, like, my room is empty. must have stuff.
metaphorically, im not entirely sure. on one hand, sure it's peaceful because there's nothing else to disrupt that peace. you can just be. on the other hand, there's supposed to be emotions, even if it's neutral contentment. so feeling empty would be horrible because i know that there's supposed to be something there, but there's nothing there, and idk how to get something there
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Thinking about how Fuyuhiko and Byakuya are kind of foils…..how both were raised in wealthy households by powerful fathers, and have some issues with arrogance/status, but the thing that differs is corruption. Byakuya’s Togami Corporation is probably used to keeping dealings on the down low, putting up a veneer of propriety. The Kuzuryu clan also deals in the shadow, but they’re obviously a Yakuza family.
From my understanding, the point of the yakuza being a group is that it’s a trusted network of people that have loyalty to each other. Everyone is expected to support the idea of the collective, the family, and everyone is paid in kind. In a business that’s reversed, you are expected to support the business, but with no guarantee of recompense.
While a crime syndicate sticks together no matter what, a business cuts its losses and does whatever it takes to survive. A syndicate circled the drain because it’s trying to hold onto everything, no matter if people want it or not. A business will suck you dry and has no such qualms about loyalty.
Fuyuhiko holds onto Peko, seeing her as a member of the family, while she cares for him but can’t be her own person because she’s programmed to support the family as a whole, not her own individual wants or interests. Even if she can’t be with Fuyuhiko, she can make sure he’s safe and that he’s near her.
Byakuya seeks others as means to an end. He scoffs at notions of friendship as childish, whereas in a yakuza family those are the most important thing. Byakuya doesn’t have a relationship with any of his siblings, save for Shinobu, and even that is a little unhealthy. When he asks Naegi to work for him, he says that it wouldn’t be a standard job, implying that he values Naegi’s abilities and the only way he can think to spend more time with this random person, this lottery-selected, baffling, ordinary person who has somehow intrigued him, it to try and fit him into what he knows—the system.
Fuyuhiko, after losing Peko in DR2 and suffering grievous bodily injuries, is forced to acknowledge people outside his circle, and becomes sincerely devoted to making things right with them, even going so far as to attempt another grievous injury to show his sincerity. I’d say he considers them part of his inner circle, and his arc is really powerful.
Byakuya’s development is much more subtle. While Fuyuhiko’ sis about trusting those that aren’t immediately in his circle, Byakuya’s is about not needing a circle to live. His corporation is gone, the whole world is gone, so he has to work with the people left — who aren’t really business-types. He goes to Towa City to save the beloved friends and family of his remaining and deceased classmates.
He might not know how to directly make people happy, so he might as well bring the people they love the most to do that for him. He’s figuring it out. Fuyuhiko is definitely the mom friend tho, he will make you LISTEN.
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What do you think Peeta loved about Katniss in book one before they really knew each other?
her spirit.
Peeta said his feelings for Katniss began that day in music class, when she sang and the birds stopped to listen. but we should remember how eager she was to sing, which he recounted as well. her hand shot right up as soon as the teacher asked for a volunteer. she was eager and proud to sing, to share music she learned from her dad. it wasn't just her pretty voice or her plaid dress or her braids, but that spirit about her, even at that age, that got Peeta's attention.
I'm sure it's something he looked out for in the years after. thumbing her nose at the law to provide for her family, not to mention being proficient at it (he did notice she always shot small game through the eye - not only would it degrade the meat, but maybe that pride was at work, too...). loving her little sister fiercely, never saying a bad thing about her, not even privately to us as the readers. befriending the mayor's quiet daughter who was considered an outsider by their peers. conversely, not pretending to be someone she wasn't to have more friends. idk, just things Katniss didn't think twice about, but that Peeta could see her spirit shine through in all the same. he certainly saw it in full when she volunteered in place of Prim.
the rest is history - because it was during their time in the Games when he got to know her sense of humor and quirks and such. but I think it was her spirit that got his attention first, and held it for years(!).
and, you know, I'm sure he thought she was pretty and had a pretty voice. he has an eye for beauty, after all.
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the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again
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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.
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Made myself ramen noodles bc I’ve only had toast really since i got sick but I actually had standing energy today so I made a ramen noodle brick real quick and it’s raining and I’m watching all of the midnight gospel (like starting at first episode and curling into bed to watch the entire show) and I’m smoking a little bit bc my throat hurts but my body hurts more so I’m gonna smoke a little so my muscles will relax
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between me being a bitch/not being a bitch, being amused by everything/not being amused by anything is the right amount of sleep and right amount to eat and it's not even the recommended healthy amount either. I honestly haven't fucking figured it out.
Bc I could have a beautiful 9 hours of sleep, 3 healthy and tasty meals a day and feel like the way I feel when I've had 2 hours of sleep and 2 not so healthy but filling meal's a day. Like crap. Like shit. Like if someone says one wrong thing i might actually explode even though i really don't want to, but like i can't help it. No amount of breathing exercises help. I want to sleep so bad but no matter what I can't make myself. Even though I had 9 hours. Especially if I had 2.
But then I'll have 4 straight days of 4 or 14 hours of sleep, each with fluctuating meals, from 1 healthy meal and a couple of good snacks one day to 3 horribly unhealthy meals the other, the 3rd day hardly anything to eat but a can of greenbeans and a turkey mayo and cheese sandwich and the forth day 1 healthy meal and then a unhealthy meal and a nice snack in that row and I'll end up being able to laugh and smile and joke while not knowing if I actually feel really sick or if it's all in my head and if I should ignore it and feel thankful I'm at least not being a bitch.
🆘 this shit is so annoying i just want to be like. an octopus. really bad.
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Losing my shit about this article in which a transphobic Tory was so busy panicking about existing in the vicinity of a Trans that she almost certainly misheard "jeans" as "penis" and decided that not only was this a problem with the other woman, but also that the world must be informed of this pressing danger.
"a trans woman! I had to stand directly behind her....I thought, 'this is going well', I'm handling The Situation fine'..."
translated: I saw a tall woman with broad shoulders. How would I get out of this alive? I thought. she has a PENIS. PENIS PENIS PENIS. through some force of PENIS I mean will I managed to PENIS behave normally towards her. My hands were PENIS PENIS PENIS shaking as I tried to dry them. summoning up all my PENIS courage I said 'dryer's crap innit'. she turned to me and said " yeah I'm just goiPENIS PENIS PENIS"
It's been a week and I'm still shaking. This proves trans women are the problem and I'm not weird. I'm fine. It's fine. If you think about it I'm the hero hePENIS!!!!!
very this
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if you took a language class in school (any level, any language) did your instructor assign you a name from that language? like, when i took french in high school i was assigned a "french name" that i had to use in that class. did anyone else experience this?
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missing ranchers forever and ever and ever (a redraw of THIS from a year ago)
[click for better quality! + closeups under the cut]
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despite being more often than not a "rules as written" fan over "rule of cool", i really do love me a good "rules be damned, i'll give you this awesome moment" call. like matt giving fcg the otohan kill despite what her hp was at or brennan giving cerrit an extra mage slayer reaction attack at the end of calamity. honestly, if anything, i think the fact they mostly play by the book makes these moments even better because it really has that extra weight towards those decisions to put the rules aside.
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Charles answering with “we have a good relationship” to a question about beating Max is like the direct opposite of Lewis answering with “I remember the first time i looked up the girls. When I met my girlfriend. I remember the first time having sex” to someone asking if he remembered meeting Nico
Lewis tries and fails to deflect in the most unconvincing way possible, Charles chooses to expose himself very clearly
Weird tactics but ok guys 🙄
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