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#they're good kids
inkdrawndreamer · 5 days
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My programs attract a lot of autistic kids for some reason, which is fun because I can break the ice trading weird animal facts, then hear them gush about whatever horror games they're playing this week while I'm teaching.
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king-mera · 1 year
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I'm thinking about how Trevor immediately runs over to free Lucky from the terror dog husk after Gozer's been defeated. You could just barely hear them calling out from inside, then he calls their name and starts breaking the thing apart with his bare hands, never mind that it looks like solid rock. He's just that determined to save his friend.
Of course, he finds Gary instead (I can't blame him, it took me years to figure out which Terror Dog is which, the only difference is the size of the horns.) After making sure Gary's ok, he runs over to the other husk, which Lucky is already breaking out of, and helps them out. He says "Oh my god, I totally thought I lost you" and looks so concerned.
The way Lucky only answers with "Sorry about that" in a pitiful way breaks my heart, but he stays close to them as they walk back to the house. He's such a sweet boy.
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bxdbxdboy · 1 year
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I'm GLAD bagel is losing do you hear me I'm GLAD
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feathersnek · 2 years
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I’m so proud of them.
(Tales of the Rays)
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glassandmetalwings · 1 year
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On a less sweet (but funny) note, I managed to write numbers wrong twice today in class. Like, Roman numerals. In front of the kids.
I was writing which circle was which for a body proportions lesson, making someone who was 7.5 heads tall.
First I wrote '1 2 3 4 5 3-'
We all laughed, I fixed it and we kept going. And then, right at the end:
'7.3'
Because that's logical.
I just stood there with my forehead on the whiteboard, my back facing them.'
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glitter-stained · 8 days
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Random goon: Hey boss, were you the one to pick that name as an alias? And why this one?
Red Hood : I used to have another name, before... A long time ago. But that person is dead now. I get to choose for myself now, they can't take that from me. I won't let them.
Goon: Huh.
***
Random Goon: Say boss, why do you never take off your shirt in front of us?
Red Hood: Well uh, I actually have that really fucked scar on my chest and I'm not comfortable with...
Random Goon: Don't worry boss, we get it, you don't have to explain yourself to us.
***
Red Hood, high on some toxin: God, I wish my family...
Random Goon (on boss-sitting duty): why not try reaching out to them?
Red Hood: They would never accept me as I am now... They wouldn't agree with my so-called "life choices". Besides, they don't miss me, they miss the person they think I used to be... I wasn't even a man when I last saw them.
Random Goon: Damn boss, that sucks.
***
And then the goons throw the Red Hood a party on trans visibility day and Jason is so confused he straight up cries.
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inkskinned · 11 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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nerdpoe · 3 months
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Kon was visiting small town and trying to take a little bit of a breather.
Sometimes things got to be a little too much. For instance, he recently found out that due to some weird niche law, he wasn't a person. He was property.
So even if he ever got tired of essentially being owned by CADMUS, it was them or some government branch called the GIW.
And no one knew anything about the GIW.
So even if he wasn't really with CADMUS anymore, he would never be free of them. Which was. Not great.
So he was just. Taking a small breather.
Sitting on a curb, eating some burgers, and just vibing.
Then someone grabbed both of his shoulders in a death grip.
"Dude, what-?"
"-I'm sorry, but I need you to stay still or I'm gonna get got." A panicked teen voice hissed.
Kon turned his head; there was a scrawny teen with unnaturally clear blue eyes, black hair, and a white knuckled grip on Kon's shoulders as he desperately tried to...keep his feet on the ground?
Then a van came tearing around the corner, with the letters GIW stamped across it. The men that left it were wearing white suits, and were clearly keeping an eye on the terrified kid trying to pretend like he wasn't about to float out of some sort of fear response.
Oh.
Oh, this was another clone. One without the protection of CADMUS or Kal.
Yeah, no.
He's got the kid in his arms and was flying over the mid-sized city in an instant, right before pivoting and retreating to Metropolis.
He needed Kal for this. The man was over his thing about clones, and Kon couldn't face the American Government alone.
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they're not just innocent reactions. they're also so smart. but. obedient.
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bxdbxdboy · 1 year
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sneezypeasy · 3 months
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Oh, and one more thing: Can I just point out that the "I dun fucked up, I guess I'ma wait outside your room all night until you'll let me grovel and atone for my misdeeds" is not, and has never been, a platonic trope?
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(I mean, we all know who wrote this episode and how she felt about these two as a couple, but it bears mentioning that even administering a heavy dose of Death of the Author here doesn't absolve this scene from being way more shippy than it deserves to be.)
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wellfine · 11 months
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I mowed him sorry (← guy who thinks buzzed heads are handsome)
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puppetmaster13u · 7 months
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Prompt 105
 A cult summons the ghost king. Except they don’t. Instead they get these tiny white-haired triplets of toddlers blinking at the summoning circle looking confused. 
 They’ve gotten the ghost princes and princess instead. 
 The very young princes and princess who are none too pleased and going to cause problems on purpose for both rogues and heroes alike. As godlings de-aged into their ghost age are like to do. 
 Meanwhile in the Realms, Pariah is staring down at where his trio of ghost toddlers that Clockwork had handed him when he had first woken up and was still groggy just disappeared from. He looks over at Fright Knight, his dearest brother, who looks just as shocked. 
 Clockwork is going to kill them both if they don’t get the kids back now. 
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nerves-nebula · 4 months
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i love to see people who are like "you can talk about csa but not around minors that's gross!" like idk how to tell you this but. who do you think is getting csa'd. i'll give you a hint: the first letter in csa does not stand for "adult"
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svcuriosities · 2 years
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Whenever I see my dad's narcissistic cousin I just want to give her kids and ex husband hugs for having to deal with her bullshit.
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