Should I get back into RP? 🤔

You can only reblog this today or until the next Monday, June 19th, 2028.

you know what, fuck joe biden. fuck joe biden. i am so deeply enraged tonight. thousands of palestinians have been murdered in a genocide funded by US tax dollars, and his administration thinks it's a good time to post memes?? most young people i know are living paycheck to paycheck (or debt to debt), and they think they can appeal to us by posting goddamn memes? at least one hundred people were killed in rafah due to an israeli air strike during the superbowl, and biden posts a dark brandon meme? what the absolute fuck? over twelve thousand children have been murdered in cold blood by the israeli military, funded by the united states, funded by my goddamn taxes, and biden tweets about seats on airplanes? i can't afford to buy meat, but thank god part of my paycheck is being spent on bombing children. i am ashamed i voted for him. if i ever met the man, i would spit on him. i would throw both my shoes at him. i am disgusted and angry. god fucking damnit

hey jillian just dropping in to say I miss you on my dash - how are you going?

Hi Lola! I miss being here, but things have been hectic, to say the least. I'll spare you the novel, but most of it can be summed up mostly by saying that the american public education system is a mess and the urban american school system is even worse than most (I work in the latter, have for years, but something about this year is just Worse).

But! I still have fics going! They're just going very slowly. Someday I hope to post something new, and to pop on here more often.

Hope all is well with you! <3

Danny is about to be kidnapped in Gotham This is not a good time.

He's studying for the SAT, he's already been kidnapped by Vlad like, four times that week and it was a fucking Tuesday, he forgot his wallet at his new apartment, locked himself out of said new apartment (he could phase through the door but that wasn't the point), he's just been informed that the grant he applied for was denied so he needs to ask his mom and dad for college funds when he'd already told them he had it covered, and just...it was shit.

It had been shit. The entire week had been awful and annoying and he was ready to either murder everyone on the planet or go find a corner to cry in for the next three days.

So when the band of wild goons working for whatever villain of the week pulled up and tried to kidnap him, he snapped.

He used them to vent.

Shouted about how terrible his day had been, how terrible his week had been, how he'd already been kidnapped by his creepy godfather who was way too into him, how college funding was shit and the grant system was rigged, and how he'd have to call a locksmith or break down the door to his own apartment if he wanted to go to bed-all of it. He unloaded all of his frustration.

The goons actually backed off.

One of them gave him an awkward side hug and told him it'd get better.

Danny wasn't paying attention to his surrounding. He doesn't realize that the whole thing was livestreamed.

So when he gets home to his apartment later that day, his door is opened for him by the vigilante Spoiler before he can even turn intangible.

She brought over BatBurger and kidnapped Bruce Wayne, Gotham's bumbling Prince, to talk about college grants.

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.

@pscentral event 20: antagonists ↳ THE LORDS IN BLACK in NERDY PRUDES MUST DIE

:-P

Happy almost 4/13, have some funnies

extra doodles under the cut

SPIDERWEAVE GANG RISE UP

Me, wondering why I am suddenly thinking I am the worst human being alive and I deserve absolutely nothing:

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?

friend wanted to see my tumblr, and when i told him i can’t show it to him bc it’s basically my personal diary he went “oh so I can’t see it but a bunch of strangers on tumblr can??” he literally does not get me. no one will get me like the people in my phone get me