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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The world needs more Yue and Zuko friendship, I squeal just thinking abt the parallels. They deserve a life changing field trip together and if u have abt ideas I’m all ears 👀
Hiii anon this ask fermented in my inbox and in my brain for so long,, so take this??? Post canon yue lives/no war au arts?? Anyway aside from the Parallels and their political position & their duty before hoes grindset I think they could learn a lot from each other. With zuko learning the gift of patience & diplomacy from yue & Yue learning that allowing yourself to feel anger and speaking up can actually be Good.
anyway hypothetical life changing trip outcome: zuko takes an intro gender studies class and yue says fuck
(oh and also must not forget the crush on sokka)
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it's so funny that they're actually making shows gay now. Why do I even need to be here anymore I don't need made up scenarios they're out there kissing each other on the face on my actual tv screen. gonna pack up my little kerchief and stick with a chunk of cheese and piece of bread
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all i can think about is bucky literally BEGGING to eat your pussy. just on his knees, calling himself a needy slut, just looking up at you with puppy dog eyes while he just begs for your pussy on his mouth. ugh.
Men who are this into eating pussy have a special place reserved for them in Heaven. Hearing someone beg to go down on you is life changing when they know what they're doing 🙈
But you're so right, Bucky would be so willing to degrade himself like that just to be allowed to go down on you. He'd be on his knees, trying to ignore how full his balls feel, begging for you.
"P-please." His voice is so quiet you almost start to question if he said it intentionally. "I need to taste you. I can't think about anything else."
His cock twitches despite how heavy it looks, flushed and angry against the pale skin of his thighs.
"Really?" You tease, tilting his chin up with two fingers so he's looking at your face, rather than your body. "Tell me exactly what you're thinking. Describe it to me"
He doesn't miss a beat. "I'm thinking about how soft you are, how warm and silky your cunt feels under my tongue. I'm thinking about burying my tongue as deep inside you as I can reach and still wishing I could get deeper. I want to feel how wet you are but more than anything, I want to taste how wet you are. I want to dream about it for the rest of the week. Every time I stroke my cock I want to be able to remember how you taste."
Precum drips from his tip and you're not sure you can deny him much longer. Not when he's making it sound so appealing.
"Do you even hear yourself?" You do your very best to act like you don't love the sound of every word that has just come out of his mouth.
"I do. I sound like a shameless, filthy, desperate slut. The type of slut who wants to kiss and lick and worship your sweet pussy until you're so sensitive you have to force me to stop." His hand wanders between his own legs, tugging his stiff length to the mere thought.
He's not above begging and you know that. He'll draw this out as long as he needs to until he gets his way but there's very little sense in that when you want this just as much as he does.
"Lie on the bed." You give him time to make his way over before following, lining yourself up just above his face.
You take a second to smooth his hair, enjoying the feeling of his freshly shaved face against the sensitive insides of your thighs.
He's looking up at you, your eyes meeting his. "Thank you." The relief in his voice is clear right before he grasps your hips and pulls you down onto his mouth.
Fuck, he's incredible. This is the mouth you dream about when you're alone. His tongue massages your clit, stroking back and forth before dipping into your fluttering entrance. You swear he must feel what he's doing to you. You feel your cunt clenching and rippling, your muscles contracting in response to the pleasure and for a second you wonder if he can tell.
He's hungry for this; he has been for hours. He's moaning and slurping obscenely, his tongue buried in your cunt. You don't even need to look over your shoulder to know that he's alternating between fucking his own fist and gripping the base of his shaft tight enough to stop him from spilling his release all over himself too soon.
It's very hard to tell which of you enjoys this more.
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you don't understand how normal i am about the mario & luigi series' FIRST game featuring prince peasley, a character who not only remembers luigi's name, but chooses to forget mario's all while continuously treating luigi like the extra special one out of both the brothers
like. this game emphasized the whole "haha luigi's a loser" mentality nintendo rly latched onto. in the start of this game he is repeatedly being forgotten and belittled and dragged along this way and that
and then all of a sudden this PRINCE shows up and starts giving luigi all this special attention like? AH. the idea that luigi's self esteem is already so low and then all of a sudden he's having roses thrown in his lap, nicknames given to him, and thanks/compliments left and right
not to mention the. ahem. butt stabbing scene...
and the aforementioned deliberate choice of words on peasley's part when referring to mario. he recognizes that luigi is hardly referred to by name and extends that kind of lack of recognition to MARIO instead of luigi, for once!
and luigi reciprocates hardcore!
he starts greeting/saying goodbye to peasley by waving his hat, blushing around him, collapsing to the floor and sobbing when peasley puts himself in a dangerous situation, and rushing to hug him at the end of the game
and there’s other little things: like how peasley is straight up winking as he goes to catch luigi from falling
and in the remake, luigi keeps peasley's rose under his hat! 🥺
in conclusion: i think their relationship is really important for luigi's self esteem and character arc and more people should witness and recognize their very canonical romance. thank you. <3
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