#what could it mean...
wilson's mcgill sweatshirt....
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can i say something. for years i thought the joke of the song short skirt/long jacket by cake was that he wanted a woman who was hung like a horse. like i thought when he says jacket it was a last-second fakeout because he very obviously meant to say cock. and the rest of the things in the song were just her personality and interests. which were secondary to her awesome penis
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Hi, feel free to take my new uquiz to discover what kind of vampire you are!
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Pt I good omens but i've never watched it
i've never seen good omens but it's all over my tumblr dash so this is what I've gathered can someone please confirm if i've got it right
there's a demon named crowley
there's a biblically inaccurate angel named aziraphale but like it's very sexy when the demon calls him 'angel'
the demon and angel have been married for 6000 years and they still keep looking at each other all sappily
Neil Gaiman is somehow involved, I think he's the writer but also he's on tumblr (uh, @neil-gaiman) and people keep questioning if he's real
is neil gaiman like a fandom inside joke why is everyone asking if he's real
there actors are called michael and david and amazon prime thought they were the same
there is a bookstore and crowley is sad
they kiss and it is very nice and desperate and crowley says we could have been us. i have no context for this. someone is going to heaven i think.
there is a god, i'm not sure if they're good or evil though
the demon wears sunglasses
it's a comedy but for some reason everyone's crying after whatever the last season was, are you guys okay
things are on fire
they are very gay
there was a book and at one point they switch bodies
more fire and crowley screaming
they are called ineffable husbands i dont know what that means
they fight crime or they do crime or they fight crime by doing crime i really cannot remember which
gay
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Personally I think that Azula should have been redeemed simply so that she can become Zuko's horrible little advisor who whispers evil little plans to him so that he can do the exact opposite
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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.
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btw they play the same soft piano music over shuro talking about falin as they did when marcille and falin were in bed together. the captions call it "romantic music". hmm
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for context: I read the hobbit first over the course of two years when I was like 13, but I'm only now starting to read lotr. having a blast tho!
anyways, reblog if you feel like it 🙌🏻
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Why was Nightmare Foxy in the closet in FNAF 4,,,
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The unspoken truth
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"the hottest thing a man could do is drive one-handed, palming the stirring wheel."
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if you ask me. being a good storyteller and love are inherently entwined. you cannot tell a good story without loving the people in it and loving those you tell it to. because to tell a good story is to understand it and its impact. to love is to understand how something moves through others and how to deliver it the way it would be best received. and how to breath life into something that did not exist before. storytelling is an act of creation sure but i do believe in all creation, there is love too. that there must be
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Saw a post about working class butches in physical labour jobs and wanted to make my own, so: I love you butches who do childcare or early education. I love you butch nurses. I love you butch house cleaners and janitorial staff. I love you service industry butches. I love you butches who do sex work. I love you working class butches who do “feminine” jobs you are cool as hell
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I truly, TRULY do not know how to say this, because the fact that I have to say it makes me feel like I am losing my grip on reality. But no, in the post-capitalistic anarchist utopia, I will not be relying on “autistic minecraft girlies” to be building inspectors because - and this may shock you - one of those occupations takes years of education in how to read and interpret hundreds of thousands of lines of regulations based on complicated math and physics that were the result of decades of tragedy and death, and the other one involves playing a children’s video game.
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Jazz and Johnny got...way more involved that Danny will ever want to know.
And Jazz, very liminal, actually fell pregnant.
She opted to leave for a bit, have the baby, and adopt it out. It was half ghost and half very liminal human, she had no idea what the GIW would do to it.
So she left on an "extended study trip", gave birth, gave it over to the adoption agency, warned them there was a high chance the kid would be a meta, and went about recovering.
Unbeknownst to her, that baby was immediately stolen by one Sheila Haywood for the purposes of tax fraud.
From there, the baby was given to Willis Todd, after Sheila lied and said that he was the father.
From there, the baby was put under the care of Catharine Todd, who died far too young.
From there, the kid tried to steal Batman's tires so he wouldn't starve.
Fast forward, and Jason Todd, now an adult, decides to pay a visit to the new head Psychologist of Arkham to vet the lady.
He ends up staring into a set of eyes that mirror his own, and when he runs the DNA from the hair he stole off of her, it comes back positive that yeah.
That's his mom.
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