Limp Wrist - Want Us Dead
Two men were hung in the Middle East just for being gay. Some Texas punks got killed cause someone thought that they were strange. Trannies are beat and murdered by some sick fucks full of hate.
They want us dead.
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all queer discourse could be stopped if we all just remembered that in the eyes of conservative fascists we're all dirty queers polluting their kids minds who need to be eradicated at all costs
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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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came back wrong trope but the character knows that they came back wrong. they’re so acutely aware of how different they are now from how they were before that it drives them fucking insane. they’re stuck trying to return to somebody that’s long dead. they can never be the person they once were. everybody around them knows it. deep down, they know it too, but they’re trapped in a cycle of their own making. of trying to revive someone that no longer exists.
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listen I expected literally Nothing from the D&D movie okay, like I can't make it clear enough that I expected the most soulless money grab with a good cgi budget imaginable, I went in having already gone through every stage of grief and landed on acceptance and LISTEN
I fucking CRIED during this dumb RPG movie. it wasn't just "not terrible" it was objectively good with a clever plot and compelling characters and sincere emotional beats. this movie loves D&D so fucking much and it NAILS the "a bunch of goobers try to be cool and accidentally discover The Power Of Friendship And Also Great Violence" classic D&D party vibe. their barbarian's last name is fucking Kilgore and my entire family cried in the theater.
I hope they make twelve of these motherfuckers.
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Loving Threats
Inspired by a song and its remake. But I am trash at syncing lyrics to storybeats.
Danny and Jason met in the ghost zone when Jason was dead, but he forgot it all coming back to life. When the two of them were together, they went through the entire song and dance (literally) of asking each other out.
I'm serious. There were like 10 different musical scenes with varying themes. It was Fenton Romance at its finest. And Jason's old school romance heart was certainly played a large part too.
It was their love language. Dramatic acts, vague threats and all.
Post revival and reconnection with the Batfam, Jason spots a familiar face. A flood of memories wash through him, and with it a bout of giddiness. Though he's currently dressed as Red Hood, Danny'll be able to tell who he is and keep quiet. Just have to greet him in a way that he'll recognize.
---
Danny is out taking the kids for a walk. Dan was grumpy since he wasn't allowed any ecto chips, for both his health and as punishment for severely beating a guy who tried to mug Danny without permission yesterday. Ellie is quite cheerful, since she's going to visit the Crocodile and Zombie sewer-dudes when Danny's not looking.
All of a sudden, Red Hood, casually wielding a gun, approaches Danny. He makes an overly familiar gesture, wrapping an arm sideways around Danny's waist. He whistles under the hood, a faint green glow from the white eyespaces.
"Well who do we have here? You look half dead, honey."
Danny looked at him. Horrible pick up line? Check? Thin veneer of confidence? Check. Zero self control around Danny? Check.
Jason. The rancid ecto signature is new, though. Honestly, not surprised he's a crime lord now.
"Well, you know how it is. The kids have been running me ragged. And you sure haven't been any help."
Danny puts on an innocent smile. Jason sidles closer. A few bystanders watch them with varied expressions.
"Well you don't need to worry about that now. How about you and I go somewhere more private?"
---
"A crime boss, huh?"
Dan is raiding the fridge. Ellie is watching a fight on TV.
"It was a... necessary step. I promise I would've visited you sooner if I had known."
"It's fine. What else happened while you were gone?"
"Well..."
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i miss playing dnd not just for the social aspect or character creation but because i miss fucking things and people up with necrotic damage
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I don't know how to say this intelligently but something is really bothering me about the reviews for the barbie movie complaining that she didn't go deeply enough into feminist critique? Like,,, it's the Barbie movie. It's not Feminist Theory 402. Also, it's a movie about how women are expected to be spectacular at everything they do and how exhausting it can be to be the representative for all women when you're just one of them and people really watched that and turned around to tell Greta Gerwig that the movie wasn't enough because it wasn't perfect?
It was heartfelt and funny and silly and hot pink and that is enough!! Where is the media literacy!! You all are legitimately hurting my heart with this trash take!! It's fine to not like the movie but how come movies about the "male experience" can be about SOME men but movies about women have to be the balm AND rage AND catharsis AND call to action for every woman ever??? It's the Barbie movie!!! Not Gloria Steinem's latest manifesto!!! Let it fucking be!!!
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