top 3 pavitr prabhakar moments:
"and this is where the british stole all of our stuff!"
"now let me guess you're gonna ask me about saffron and cardamom and naan bread which is the same as saying bread bread which is the same as saying CHAI TEA >:(" "oh i love chai tea" "NO"
"well that was another easy adventure for spider-ma---" [everything explodes]
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I'm so excited to announce that I will be taking a brand new turn with my webtoon! CTC will now be a fantasy romance! ⚔️💖
"I was trapped in a tower for 200 years by my wicked mother, only to be saved by the assassin sent to kill the Dark Lord- but he doesn't know it's me!?"
I know this change may be too sudden for most of my readers, especially after 4 hard years working on CTC, but I know you guys will love the new direction! 💖
Stay tuned for chapter 1- “That handsome daring sexy rogue is here to kill ME!?”
[Read CTC]
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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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house md will always be remebered as the most insane thing ever broadcast because of how unabashedly feral everyone involved was.
a short collection of things that happen on the show, just off the top of my head, not even scratching the surface:
- house shoots a random dead body in the morgue and then sticks him in an mri machine, which pulls the bullet out of the dead guy’s head and destroys the machine, costing the hospital millions
- foreman gets bitten by a person with rabies
- chase kills an african dictator
- cameron steals drugs from a patient after possibly getting hiv from said patient
- house induces a migraine and then takes a drug made by his arch nemesis (who he’s been stalking for 25 years) to get the drug taken off the market. he then takes lsd (in the hospital, in the middle of a case) to cure the migraine.
- chase goes into anaphylaxis after doing body shots
- house stops an elevator so he can perform a cavity (vaginal) search on a teenage heart transplant patient who’s in cardiorespiratory arrest
- they give a neurosurgeon mushrooms to cure his food poisoning, then they stick him in an operating room. the neurosurgeon strips in front of a health board assessor.
- kutner dies for gay marriage
- house sets an autopsy room on fire while trying to juggle flaming bottles
- house gets recruited by the cia
- taub gets held at gun point after diagnosing a stripper with skin cancer
- in almost every single episode, the team breaks into multiple houses
- house fakes terminal brain cancer so he can get drugs implanted directly into the pleasure centre of his brain
- house cons us immigration to get his fake wife a green card. he also uses his fake wife’s ukrainian food truck to spy on people
- house tries to get wilson, his closet case boybestfriend, into bed every few episodes. every other sentence out of house’s mouth is about wanting to rail wilson.
- taub has a kid with his ex-wife, after they divorce, at the same time he has a kid with his 25 yo side piece. the kids’ names are sophie and sophia.
- house and wilson have a bet on who can hide a chicken in the hospital the longest without anyone finding out
- house tries to kill himself like 6 times and always fails (insulin shock, overdoses, electrocution, jumping off a building, cutting, etc)
- house fakes his death to get out of a prison sentence after violating his parole so he can live out his bi love story with his gay best friend who has 5 months to live
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Drunk!Satoru thoughts ~ 18+
Drunk Satoru would get wasted off of half a spiked seltzer. This bitch would be white girl wasted, sobbing in the corner of the room asking you if you’d still love him if he was a worm. He’s gonna be a whiny little bitch and so utterly sensitive. Even you caressing his arm will have him whimpering and whining.
You could ask drunk Satoru to sit on your lap… no better yet STRADDLE your lap and he’s doing it with enthusiasm. Doesn’t mater that he’s taller and bigger than you, he will put all of his weight on you and nearly crush you with the force of his love.
Sloppy make outs with drunk Satoru will always lead to sloppy fucking. Sloppy because he’s too far gone to actually be on top in any capacity, he’s relying on you to ride his dick till you’re done and will not be able to assist you in any capacity.
Sloppy because you’re equally as drunk and cannot bounce on his lap without his assistance after a while. So it turns into this wet mess of just half heartedly bouncing while primarily grinding your hip down on his.
Drunk Satoru is practically sobbing as you ride his dick, not stopping even after he has cum because he’s still fucking hard and you want to milk him for everything he’s worth. Either that or you’ll pass out first.
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Freak of the week
Danny, in his human form, can take one hell of a punch.
Online he's a well known stuntman, doing absolutely batshit insane stunts that would 100% kill anyone else. He makes a point of flaunting the lack of a meta gene in his genetic tests he took for his audience, and is generally known to be juuuuuust slightly unhinged.
So he's in Metropolis, getting ready to do a stupidly dangerous stunt, when a mind-controlled Superman lands in front of him.
In front of a live stream.
So he can't go Ghost like he wants.
Instead, he turns to the camera and grins, all teeth and feral.
"Who wants to watch me eat a punch from Superman and live?"
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