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#shes not dead i just love her
multi-phantom · 6 months
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I miss my wife (dead female character who didn't get enough screen time and was massacred by the fandom)
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inkskinned · 10 months
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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.
#every time someones like ''AI will replace u" im like. u will have to fucking KILL ME#there is no replacement here bc i am not filling a position. i am just writing#and the writing is what i need to be doing#writeblr#this probably doesn't make sense bc its sooo frustrating i rarely speak it the way i want to#edited for the typo wrote it and then was late to a meeting lol#i love u people who mention my typos genuinely bc i don't always catch them!!!! :) it is doing me a genuine favor!!!#my friend says i should tell you ''thank you beta editors'' but i don't know what that means#i made her promise it isn't a wolf fanfiction thing. so if it IS a wolf thing she is DEAD to me (just kidding i love her)#hey PS PS PS ??? if ur reading this thinking what it's saying is ''i am financially capable of losing this'' ur reading it wrong#i write for free. i always have. i have worked 5-7 jobs at once to make ends meet.#i did not grow up with access or money. i did not grow up with connections or like some kind of excuse#i grew up and worked my fucking ASS OFF. and i STILL!!! wrote!!! on the side!!! because i didn't know how not to!!!#i do not write for money!!!! i write because i fuckken NEED TO#i could be in the fucking desert i could be in the fuckken tundra i could be in total darkness#and i would still be writing pretentious angsty poetry about it#im not in any way saying it's a good thing. i'm not in any way implying that they're NOT tryna kill us#i'm saying. you could take away our jobs and we could go hungry and we could suffer#and from that suffering (if i know us) we'd still fuckin make art.#i would LOVE to be able to make money doing this! i never have been able to. but i don't NEED to. i will find a way to make my life work#even if it means being miserable#but i will not give up this thing. for the whole world.
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nenayaquisieras · 3 months
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Simon has always been confused on why you gift him toys. Sure, most of the gifts you gave him were some of the things he liked. Bourbon, masks, gloves, make up for him to smudge his eyes with, some daggers and knives. Things that we're useful for him, just him. But later, you gifted him a toy airplane. He makes a comment about it, saying he is not a child anymore and you were better off giving it to Johnny instead.
"No, this is specifically for you, take it."
When he gets to him room, he walks toward his trash can, opening it with the tip of his boot. He gives one more look at the toy, his mood souring before throwing it into the trash. He goes on about his day, training, signing paper work, drills. Doing anything to ignore the pain stinging memories that the toy brought back. Emotions that were buried thousands of feet deep it could reach hell itself. Later, he lies awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, avoiding looking at the cylinder shape that's calling for him in his peripheral.
Fuck.
He pulls the covers off vigorously and stomps over to the trash can. He is standing over it like he's trying to intimidate it, as if it was an enemy he's trying to get rid of in battle. To anyone else, the scene would look comical.
He sighs to himself and reaches down to take out the toy he so cruelly threw away. He sets it on his desk and quickly walks toward his bed, facing away from his desk.
The next day, he wakes up feeling different. He swears he sees his room more vibrant, more lively. That energy follows him through out the day, having his other teammates notice his rather bright mood.
You catch him in the hallway. Pulling him aside to ask him about the paper work you left at his desk this morning. Of course, he notices the way you smile brightly, more so than usual. But he notices that you're not looking at him. More like looking at something next to him.
"What's got you so cheery?"
You turn to look up at him, feeling a bit embarrassed.
"I just..." You take a quick glance at the spot next to him, before bringing your eyes back upon his.
"I just hope you liked your gift." The same bright smile appearing on your face.
He stares at you, examining your words. Your expression.
You think you see his eyes crinkle a bit.
"Yea,"
"I liked it."
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vanpalmr · 1 year
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YELLOWJACKETS | 1.01 | 2.02 |
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opera-ghost · 1 month
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it's immensely funny to me how andrew lloyd webber read this passage from the book and was like yeah the journey down to the phantom's lair is this really breathtaking magical gondola ride where christine is just captivated by the strange and fantastical beauty of it all (see below)
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when in the novel they're both like in a rowboat in the dark with christine scared out of her mind and confused as hell while erik is paddling like he's out for an extreme day of fishing and just staring christine down for the entire duration of the journey without blinking once . like mind you his eyes quite literally GLOW in the DARK and he's just fucking staring into her soul and silently rowing and probably not even breathing like
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taxinealkaloids · 1 year
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horrible children who are. so so mean to each other
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balleater · 10 months
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i've already made posts about this so many times but every time the raven queen's ascension gets brought up and its talked about like she did it for immortality or purely for power it makes me go a little insane because the story of her being a follower of the god of death before her and taking his place specifically because he didn't respect death is one of the best things about her lore in my opinion. that one of the biggest differences between her and those who failed attempts at ascension is that she did because of faith and not to spite it.
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ryssbelle · 2 months
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N2 Floyd in the first movie
Sad little man got himself captured :(
He also gets punched in the face, but that's neither here nor there lmao
Also sorry for not posting for a fat minute I've been busy XD
Bonus: What John and Branch be doing
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RIP in pieces John Dory, you were a brave troll and will be missed
I've got some more doodles of them going through it in the first movie, maybe we will see them soon teehee .
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aweirdofangirl · 13 days
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There's something so perfect about Charles and Edwin loving and needing each other, but also going to Crystal and Niko's rooms respectively after a rough case because there is also so much value in them having sanctuaries outside of each other.
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spacedlexi · 2 months
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its my birthday who wants some KISSIES!!!
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catrasfreckles · 5 months
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*wakes up*
I wonder how Pyrrha feels about her dead lover's dead daughter having the same name as her dead best friend
*goes back to sleep*
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suntails · 5 months
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fallen
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araneapeixes · 7 months
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Throw down your umbilical noose
So I can climb right back
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saionjeans · 1 month
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i love how during nanami’s drive she’s like “touga you gotta listen to me this guy is fucked up i just saw him performing some of the most horrifically unspeakable acts of violence” and akio is like [chuckling smugly] “hmmm….. what you saw….. yes, of course, a child’s mind is clouded by their limited perception….. and yet…. what you think you saw is merely an illusion…… due to solipsism.” and nanami doesn’t even pause to consider it, immediately she’s just like “what the fuck is this evil freak talking about.”
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winepresswrath · 2 months
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Madam Yu was Jiang Cheng’s mother, Yu ZiYuan. Of course, she was Jiang FengMian’s wife, and used to cultivate with him as well. Naturally, she should be called Madam Jiang. But, for some reason, everyone had always called her Madam Yu. Some people guessed that it was because she didn’t want to take on her husband’s surname due to her assertive personality. On this matter, neither the husband nor the wife in question had ever argued either.
I'm 95% sure mxtx's response to my whatdoesitmean.jlaw would be "lmao don't worry about it" but really, what does it mean? Why do random gossips think this is a girlboss moment?? What is the tone of "had [n]ever argued either"? Does JFM not care? Does he feel like he shouldn't care or like fighting or even asking is pointless? Why does Madame "every inch of this place is my territory" hold herself apart in such a public way. The people (me) demand answers.
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arthursfuckinghat · 1 month
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Say what you want about Mary, but nothing makes my heart ache for Arthur more than how fucking much they loved eachother and how much they knew it would never work.
Meeting Mary the second time, she absolutely lit up seeing that Arthur actually came to help her again. Even despite the rough circumstances with her father, they both went and had a wonderful evening at the theatre.
Mary had no idea that would be the last time she'd ever see Arthur alive again.
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