Catra + a passage from The Electric Heir:
[ID 1-4: four screenshots from She-Ra overlaid with text from The Electric Heir by Victoria Lee.
1st: a screenshot from near the end of Failsafe (s5ep11), of Catra crouching on a high ledge looking down. The overlaid text reads,
Early this morning, before Noam was awake, Dara had sat at the corner of the sofa downstairs with his brow tipped against the cold windowpane and stared at the ice as it cracked and melted off the tree outside. He’d tried to imagine death: a quiet dark embrace welcoming him home.
2nd: a screenshot from near the end of Remember (s3e5), of Catra being pulled into a void of light, barely holding onto a rock with an apathetic, expression on her face. The text reads,
Such dreams had come easily, once. When Dara was sixteen, he’d chased after death with both arms outstretched—and death had felt like warm bathwater and drugs in his veins, had smelled like spilled blood.
3rd: a screenshot from Shot in the Dark (s5ep8), from when Catra fighting off her helmet made Adora laugh, and Catra is staring at Adora lovingly. The text reads,
He couldn’t reclaim that feeling now. He couldn’t imagine stepping out of this life and leaving Noam behind—or Ames, or Leo, or even Priya. That story Noam wove last night about their future had sunk deep into his bones, and he couldn’t excise it. Dara wanted that.
4th: a screenshot from Failsafe (s5ep11), where Catra looks at Adora with tears in her eyes. The text reads, simply,
For the first time in years, Dara wanted to live.
/end ID]
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a message from Rahul Kohli
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stuck in the rain.
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letting celebrities think they can and should "use their platform" to speak on all current events and political issues regardless of how educated they are on them was a grave mistake
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gale origin playthru from astarion’s pov or smth like that
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Aphrodite
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I cant stop thinking about them :'( 🩷🩷✨✨
drew my human designs for a wee change of pace uvu
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I had to turn the boops off (sorry!), so here is a little Malleus for you all to boop instead! he has no thoughts in that little brain of his!
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Losing my mind at seeing Twitter Discourse where a girl talks about being a waitress and how sometimes people don't acknowledge her or reply to her at all when she speaks to them and how it feels dehumanising and all the people in the replies are like UM. SOME OF US HAVE /SOCIAL ANXIETY/ You're literally an evil person for wishing people would treat you with bare minimum decency :/ like idk how to tell you this but if a waitress asks how your evening is while she's taking you to your seat in a restaurant and you're gonna pretend saying "Fine, thank you" is a horrific arduous task like. Maybe you're just a massive cunt? Maybe you're just an insufferable fuckwit?
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panther chameleon plushies!!!
based on the Amilobe locality of Furcifer pardalis
magnetic little hands for to grab things
soft
funny eyes
doesn´t need high humidty or complex care!
teddy joints for to move their little legs
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adopt one from my bog
barks-bog.com
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The indescribable tension between an overworked and underpaid smut writer, and his biggest fan hater.
(for @frummpets)
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If we DO ever get a Good Omens season 3 (and fingers crossed we will) then using the Second Coming as the narrative device to facilitate the final culmination of Good Omens' ideology and message is brilliant, actually.
Because the Second Coming IS NOT another Adam situation. And, contrary to the misconceptions I've seen, It IS NOT about Jesus being born again as a baby, etc, etc.
THE SECOND COMING. QUITE LITERALLY refers to THE LAST JUDGMENT.
As in. The SAME Last Judgment Michelangelo painted on the walls of the Sistine Chapel. As in - THE JUDGMENT of the Living and the Dead. THE LAST, FINAL, ETERNAL JUDGMENT.
It's the WHOLE thing Armageddon was leading towards. Book of Revelation speedrun: the world ends, everyone dies, and then they get resurrected again to be judged by JESUS himself. He will flick through the Book of Life (WINK WINK WINK DO YOU SEE HOW LOUDLY I'M WINKING AT YOU???), and if your name is there he will go "oh nice you deserve eternal paradise! :D" and if your name is ERASED from the Book of Life he will go "oh no, sorry, you go to the lake of fire for eternity now D:" (except apparently in Good Omens lore it'd just DOOM YOU TO NON-EXISTENCE FOREVER???)
And if you THINK about it, The Last Judgment is the ultimate manifestation of moral absolutism. No shades of gray, no chances. Just BLACK, and WHITE. Never mind that you're like Wee Morag and Elspeth, who are forced to do "bad" things because of circumstances. It's either you pass Judgment Day, or you burn (or disappear forever.)
And the way THINGS are going in the Good Omens universe? I don't think there's ANYONE "good" enough to be "saved." Not Crowley, not Aziraphale. Hell, not even the Archangels themselves.
So it provides a PERFECT opportunity for Aziraphale and Crowley to UPEND that SYSTEM entirely.
I think that's what Crowley and Aziraphale would do in s3: establish a new kind of system in which angels and demons have free will to determine the right (or wrong) choice.
Giving them the APPLE, so to speak.
And then they'll go off to retire in a cottage, together at last.
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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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