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#I'm still hungry
sigurism · 1 year
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The Corinthian | Boyd Holbrook The Sandman -1.10 -Lost Hearts
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missm0rgue · 2 months
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Another contusion, my funeral jag
Here's my resignation, I'll serve it in drag
You've got front row seats to the penitence ball
When I grow up, I want to be nothing at all
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justpked · 1 year
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Howdy howdy, Falling into a world of people who are the big horny for me sounds great, even the obsession doesn't sound to bad, now the murder part i will figure out after the horny is done
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Hey hey, I see you have your priorities straight and I respect that.
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baronessblixen · 2 years
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My headcanon is that mulder cooks them bbq ribs every year for their anniversary of knowing each other and every year they still wipe the sauce off each other 😏
Aww! That's sweet and sexy 😏 just the way I like it.
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My victories for this sleepless too-hot morning:
1) I did soak in the pool for a while between 4 and 5 AM, and that was nice.
2) I finally finally finally got some XIV accessory programs installed/updated/working (again) and it was way less difficult than I feared it would be.
3) I ate a tasty bagel and I’m halfway through another massive coffee-and-creamer-and-a-full-tray-of-ice drink.
4) I knocked down my bug net and holy shit it was blocking SO much air from the fan??? Up to three whole degrees cooler just because I unhooked the support. I can breathe the air, this is great.
Unfortunate blights from this morning:
1) I got bug bites. AFTER dodging them in the little pool.
2) I skipped/forgot my morning med.
3) It’s bleeding week and I also forgot my afternoon meds yesterday so my body is uncomfortably achy.
4) I am still very incredibly tired and sleeping is still highly unlikely/unrestful.
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defka99 · 8 months
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So, like, was there a church on doordash once?
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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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Not me staying up and reading fan fic for so long that I need to get a 2am snack
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front-facing-pokemon · 10 months
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nervocat · 26 days
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Boothill gives cat vibes honestly.. like he'd be the cat to follow you around and stay attached to your hip when he doesn't have anything to do.
Very affectionate as well. Since his head is the only thing he can feel your touch from, he'll nuzzle into the crook of your neck like a cat would bump it's head against you asking for affection.
Boothill likes to put his weight on you as well. He'll lay on your chest, when your standing he'll hug your wait from the back and lean on you (which makes you stumble bc of his heavy metal body, but you manage to (maybe) stay standing. Maybe you'd fall).
On the other side though, he's very sassy. Pobably. Like Boothill would bite you (playfully + spitefully, depending), keep you from moving, say (silly) snarky remarks, you get it. Maybe.
But yeah um. I'm tired and ik I have more thoughts on this specificly but I can post more later.. gn reader btw and didn't proofread this.
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oliviawhen · 2 years
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Brioche's meows have been getting exponentially louder during the week since my roommate’s been out, and I suspect he has been trying to reach her. 📢 ᴬᴴᴴᴴᴴᴴ
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Person A: “If you knew you were walking into a trap, why did you still agree to come here?”
Person B: “Honestly, I was just too hungry to care.”
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neroushalvaus · 1 year
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Koko the gorilla didn't know ASL but, like, you could say that without invalidating the existence of speech-supporting signs
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hjartasalt · 7 months
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Another small T update
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Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh concept :000
Harbinger!Reader
That's it that's the ask ajsdfklakjdwobdisdhosdbs
OOOOOOHHHH OH THAT'S A GOOD ONE OMNOMNOMNONM
you're the Fair Lady's replacement, a good fit too, with your calm and reasonable demeanor- perfect for diplomacy, perhaps even better than the late La Signora herself in that category. while you can't say that you're rivals or at odds with any of your coworkers, you certainly aren't close to them either; you're all very private people, preferring to work alone, which is fitting since you all have different duties corresponding to your rank. so no, you can't say that any of the other Harbingers are your friends
well. except, maybe, for Tartaglia
the Eleventh began pestering you the moment you joined the ranks, asking you to spar or train or help him with weaponry. why? who knows. your expertise lies in negotiating and forging connections with other nations, mostly for Snezhnaya's benefit of course, not battles or sparring, and you tell him as such. eventually he does settle down but still sticks to you like glue when both of you are at Headquarters, talking your ear off as you listen and in return allowing you to speak the few words that you have to say- to be frank, you find his stories much more interesting than your relatively routine Harbinger duties, yet whenever you do speak up Tartaglia hangs onto your every word, deep azure eyes wide and earnest
he even trusts you enough to show you Foul Legacy, the monstrous Abyssal creature ironically sweeter and gentler than his human counterpart, delicately sniffing you and nuzzling his face against your hair with a soft purr when you first meet. he's vaguely aware of how dangerous Tartaglia's work is so Legacy ALWAYS frets over you when you're gone, even if Tartaglia repeatedly tells him that your job is not the same as his, and immediately when you return to Snezhnaya you're pulled aside by a certain ginger-haired Harbinger, a goofy smile on his face as he squeezes you tight before willingly relinquishing his body to Foul Legacy, who immediately bumps his forehead against yours and rumbles in delight. he loves listening to you speak, so he tugs you onto his lap and nudges your hand until you tell him about your travels, voice calm and steady as he absorbs every word you say, somewhere deep in Zapolyarny Palace <3
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pandaspwnz · 3 months
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So I don't think this is actually the case but what if Eliza and Isaac's deaths werent over a petty amount of cash and a robbery gone wrong? What if, instead, Dutch had seen Arthur spending time with them, had perceived him slipping away as a threat: a threat to himself, his gang, his security, his family, afraid of losing his lead enforcer - whether he truly at that point did love him like a son, or not. And in his insecurity or fear or whatever other reason, he finds someone rotten, unrelated to the gang, and he pays them to murder Eliza and her little boy, so no one will ever tempt Arthur away from the flock, and he instead puts all his energy and time into the gang, the only family he has left.
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