I Don't Remember The Books So Well, What Is Legolas' Personality Like In Them? All I Remember Is Tht

okay, i am, i confess

Love being brutally called out by the British Library

(he knows her knock)

(her face connie’s face aaughghg)

‘ … i’ve spent all this time and energy …”

!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Just another day in the survey corps…ಠ_ಠ

Art/Comic by Estelle // Translation by Akaritakutranslations // Find this comic untranslated here // Reposting elsewhere is allowed but please give credit to the artist and translator

Sleep Deprived Levi: *yawns and grabs Erwin’s hand*

Erwin: *recoiling* Levi what the hell are you doing

Levi: oh sorry I thought you were Hange

Erwin: oh… that’s okay, Levi.

Levi:

Erwin:

Levi:

Erwin:

Levi:

Erwin: Levi, why would you be holding Hange’s hand?

Levi: *suddenly awake and speed walking away* GOOD DAY COMMANDER

Omfg... it's beautiful... I don't like Spamano and PruIta but... it's amazing

Untitled(Prussia/Italy)(Spain/Romano)

Czytaj dalej

I’m just saying though…

snk comics o vo

do ya ever bring your pet up to a mirror and ur like “that you”

Erza, Lucy, Levy, Juvia: *breathes*

Jellal, Natsu, Gajeel, Gray: I love you.

Mavis: *breathes*

Zeref: What business do you have being alive?

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 persistant. 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 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 drowing. 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.

Ha~~ -bebe de su taza de café -