The fact that

Star-crossed lovers desperate to get home together. Two hearts beating as one. Romance.

is the perfect description for their relationship towards the end of the first arena (as well as in the second), whereas the next sentence is

Since I've never been in love, this is going to be a real trick.

, which is what katniss has thought throughout most of their relationship, as well as the complete opposite of what's actually happening, just has me dead laughing on the floor.

What the genuine actual fuckery is the timeline for high school story?

What do you mean book 2 took place in febuary/possibly january

unless in this fictional world the months are rearranged, yet we were told of how it was a new year near Maria's birthday.

WTF is it. Because everyone (in the main gang) is sophomores still at the school.

Unless they were freshmen last year. But then again last book Julian said it was their 'senior year' ... And Julian and co leave at book 3????

IM SO FUCKING CONFUSED HELP

I gotta say, I didn't have this whole ao3 thing on my 2023 bingo card

I saw someone promote Trump as being "better for the global south even though he'll make things worse locally" and I have never been more fucking tired.

they’re going to hell and i’m gonna be sick

no because i was with my friend and he was like “well hes my best mate, that’s my girlfriend, and then there’s leo who’s really funny-” and i was just like wait actually?!?!! and he was all like “uhhh, yeah?” I THOUGHT HE WAS PICKING ON ME THATS THE FIRST GENUINE COMPLIMENT IVE HAD IRL IN A WHILE

THEN HE SAID HE LIKED MY SHOES

HOLY FUCK PEOPLE LIKE ME?!?!??!

Xcuse me the fuck Tumblr?

No one use this bullshit please.

the real star war is between lucasfilm and me

WHO THE ACTUAL FUCK THOUGHT IT WAS A GOOD IDEA TO SIMP FOR A CANNIBAL 🧍‍♀️

What Type of Crack is Wattpad on

My mom really pulls some shit sometimes

i have to study.

i don't want to study.

how is a girl supposed to survive in this unforgiving world.

same.

are we still doing this because i have a late submission

part of my nimona viewing experience. idk why but i got super emotional in the first five minutes.

ID by @peachygos

[ID: A comic juxtaposing screenshots from Nimona 2023 and drawings of a person watching the movie. The first screenshot is Ambrosius's introduction; he grins at the camera as the news anchors introduce him, his name in big print on the screen. The person watching thinks with a bored expression, "Ah. Ok. This guy is gonna be the jackass. Typical golden-boy stuck-up prince that thinks he's better than the underdog. I see where this is going.

The next screenshot is of Ambrosius and Ballister on the platform above the arena, Ambrosius doing his news anchor bit and saying, "Aaand will Ballister be broody on the biggest day of his life?" Ballister laughs at his antics. The person watching now has a small smile, as they think, "Huh! Aw, they're actually nice to each other and are friends! I wasn't expecting that, that's nice-"

The third and final screenshot is a shot from behind of Ballister leaning his head on Ambrosius's shoulder. The caption reads "the knighting ceremony is just moments away." The person watching now has a touched, soft expression, like they're holding back tears. They think "OH." as a partially transparent doodle behind them bends over crying and blubbering, with another doodle showing their heart shot through with an arrow. /end ID]

reminding myself there are no truly "bad days", because every single day, someone somewhere in the world has taken a photo of an extremely tiny animal and shown it to someone else, and that's very good actually

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.