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.
friend wanted to see my tumblr, and when i told him i can’t show it to him bc it’s basically my personal diary he went “oh so I can’t see it but a bunch of strangers on tumblr can??” he literally does not get me. no one will get me like the people in my phone get me
Love that tma is so traumatic constantly that we all gloss over the fact that Jon was kidnapped and forcibly moisturized while tied to a chair for a month.
Every time I think too hard about it it actually freaks me out. And Jon never talks about it again which also freaks me out
“why does the doctor look like ten again?” “what outside force is compelling the doctor to regenerate into his tenth face?” “ten must be returning for some ominous weird reason!” actually guys the doctor just wanted to go home. they were tired and their body was like hey babes, let’s go home.
that ivan loves till is the most obvious thing about them
but. does ivan know that…?
the ivan that regards his own feelings as shallow, the ivan that learned how emotions are expressed only from copying others… does he even know that the love he’s felt for so long is love?
probably not. and part of the reason is the one he loves himself
because the easiest example he has of love is till's feelings to mizi. till outright calls it love, and ivan watches him so much he has to be aware of this
and till’s love to mizi is totally unselfish, right. he doesn’t seem to actually want much from her—just that she's still there and still "mizi"
but ivan can't be satisfied with just watching
he… wants. ivan wants till’s attention, till’s affection—
surely this selfish wanting can’t be love
...no wonder he was never able to express his feelings straightforwardly when he belittles them so much
but he can’t stand not having anything either, so he does… whatever he does instead to get any scraps of attention he can, from someone he's convinced doesn't care about him at all
only showing affection when till can't see it, right until he knows he's going to die
but ivan's feelings for till are all he still has of himself... to think of them as shallow...
I've seen this translated as "I should've been kinder" to him (till) or to her (sua)
but really, the one he should've been kinder to was himself
Sunday hypnotises you (consensually) to relax you.
No spoilers.
No description of reader or readers troubles so project what you are personally struggling with as you see fit.
No angst just fluff. I thought this concept would be cute. I've seen many a yandere Sunday hypnotises you, and that's great but consider - consent and fluff.
(This isn't a jab, I too enjoy a yandere fic from time to time but I also want to see fluff and I haven't seen this done in a fluffy way yet.)
I don't know why I'm mildly obsessed with this man but I am. (Cough Cough, I read maximum ride as a kid and now I automatically fall in love with winged characters. Cough Cough.) I need him to hypnotise me please and thank you.
(I have a few fics in the works that I need to finish but I'm struggling.)
As usual enjoy. Love ya 💙
"Darling?" Came the light and airy tone of your beloved. Though there was a hint of worry in his voice as he took in your face down, slumped form. "Are you alright?"
He could tell very well that you were not alright. But he would coax an answer out of you one way or another. Though the only answer he received was a groan.
"Darling." He sighs but chuckles at your obviously aggravated self. "Allow me to help you."
Your body goes limp as you let him move you from a sofa to your shared bed. "My darling. Tell me what's gotten into you."
He chuckles as you groan out a single word relating to your issues. "Life."
"Oh, my darling. You'll let me soothe you for the night won't you?" He only felt it was right after the many nights you had soothed him.
Patient, kind, understanding. Three words that when asked by others what you think about each other, you'd both say about each other. A pure give and take without a scoreboard, that's how you operated. You were both busy or stressed for one reason or another so that's how things had to be.
The simple love you shared was enough most days but sometimes things went wrong.
Sunday had performed hypnosis on you before so he knew it worked but he'd never engage unless you agreed. You knew the question he asked meant he wanted to soothe you via hypnosis, and with the state of your mind you would happily agree.
"Please do."
He wouldn't offer if he didn't have the energy you knew this, a rather large argument took care of that when he'd overworked himself then passed out after hypnotising you once and a medic had to be rushed in. Needless to say, you weren't happy with his carelessness. And seeing how upset you were he agreed to be more careful with his health.
You didn't want to think anymore so as you lay there looking up at him with your tired eyes and weary mind, he smiles. He caresses your face and hair before taking a deep breath and reciting that familiar chant.
"Oh triple faced soul, allow me to take hold of this one's mind and soothe them of all worries and burdens. The word Beloved will be the catalyst for control."
With that simple incantation your mind belonged to Sunday for a short while. Your mind felt fuzzy and slow but not unpleasantly, the way it would when you achieved complete relaxation.
Like he had done before, he would take you through your nightly routine with this hypnosis.
"Beloved, follow me to to the bathroom." He helped you up while your body automatically followed his words and stood up.
Walking was about the most complex task you could complete, he wasn't Xipe Themself, so his power only went so far.
"Beloved, lift your arms."
You do as told and he aids in stripping you, ready to be cleaned.
"Beloved, sit on this stool and close your eyes."
You again do as told his voice muffled through the layers of hypnosis, but soothing nonetheless. "I am going to wash your face first darling." He always narrates what he does before doing it as not to startle you.
You felt a cool, wet, cloth glide over your face and you can't help but sigh with satisfaction. You feel it gently caress your cheeks and softly rub your eyes tickle behind your ears. You hear the cloth being rinsed and wrung, the muffled sounds of the water soothing you further.
"I am going to wash your upper body now darling." And, as before, you feel the damp cloth glide over your neck and upper body, letting him move you has he sees fit. Soft humming coming from him lulls you deeper into his hypnosis. The cloth glides down and caresses your chest before moving to wash your back. You'd make sounds of relaxed satisfaction if you could but your exhausted body coupled with the hypnosis has made your brain devoid of any thought or control. Just how you want it.
He moves back to the front of you with a new cloth. "Beloved, spread your legs, I need to clean you."
Your body complies without hesitation and that's what he does, making sure to be extra gentle around this sensitive area. He is thorough but doesn't linger long this time, not wanting to spark anything in you this evening.
Standing to switch the cloth again, "I'm going to wash your legs and feet now darling." Still being as gentle as ever his hands and the cloth slowly makes their way down your legs massaging them as they go. A light massage is given to your feet as well before he finishes and pats you dry with a towel before he deems your body clean.
"Beloved, open your mouth wide."
He orders next, your mind too fuzzy to think of what else could be doing. You hear more water then feel a hand on your chin. "I'm going to brush your teeth darling." Then light scrubbing of your teeth and tongue can be felt, he is thorough with this area too. Not wanting to be the reason you have cavities he takes his time. Not too long later he finishes with you. You can hear things being put away and muffled sounds of him walking around you, maybe inspecting you. Before he stops in front and,
"Beloved, open your eyes and stand up. Its time to go to bed."
You're led back into the bedroom now that he is satisfied that you are clean. "Beloved, are you ready to sleep?"
Compelled to answer, you do. "yes"
"Beloved, do you want to sleep with me?"
"Yes"
"Good, let's get to sleep then shall we."
The sounds of fabric and draws is all you hear for a moment before he guides you into bed with him.
"Beloved, lay down."
When he's satisfied you are comfortable You feel his soft skin against yours, the wings on his head lightly brushing your face in reverence before he pulls them back. It isn't often he blesses you with his naked body, the vulnerability gets to him at times.
Once you've laid down and he's pulled you close he asked one more question.
"Beloved, are you ready to be released from hypnosis?"
"Yes"
As the words leave your lips he begins the incantation to remove his influence on your mind.
"Oh triple faced soul, this one has completed this ones tasks and can now be freed from the shackles of my control with no burden."
Everything goes still as your senses return slowly, reacclimating you to reality. A few minutes pass of him softly stroking your head and neck while you come back to him.
"Thank you Sunday" a soft whisper conveying how grateful you are before you promptly pass out the exhaustion and relaxation hitting you full force as you melt into the bed and his arms.
"Oh my beloved, I'd do anything to see you happy and relaxed like this more often. I am grateful for all you do for me so it's only natural. I love you, so much my beloved."
He whispers to your sleeping self, pressing small kisses to your forehead, cheeks and nose. Watching the small twitches at the contact makes his evening and he feels like he too can finally relax.
Just an idea of what Belos could be doing next episode- you might also spot some suspicious drawings hidden in there- if not... it's your loss
ID in ALT and under read more:
[ID: Comic with the character Belos from the cartoon show The Owl House, in his monster form. It takes place after the episode "Thanks to Them". Belos is back to the demon realm in his monster form. He is seen going in his cave, overhead some tubes are full of a green glowing magical liquid. He says with a distorted voice: "I will finish this"
Belos is kneeling on the ground, looking down at it. A green tube is planted in the ground. Belos continues: "I just need..."
Belos is slowly melting into the ground in a horrific manner. In the background a goopy hand is reaching down as it shows all the goop disappearing in the ground as a green glow emanates from the earth.
A last drop of goop is seen on the ground before disappearing completely.
Next panel, a hand emerges straight from the ground.
A grimwalker, almost Hunter lookalike, is halfway out of the ground, looking at his hand. He show signs of possession by Belos, his eyes are icy blue and some green and brown patches appeared already. He finishes: "... A proper body to work with"
The background turned to black. On it is written: "Right, Caleb?".
The next panel shows the grimwalker, currently Belos, with horns sprouting from his head. He is taking up his (Caleb's) coat from a chair, continuing: "Thanks to them, we can finally-"
"Do this together" He ends in the next panel, tugging on his coat and smirking menacingly as his horns fully grew out of his head.]
Sexual liberation is not casual sex and hookup culture. Sexual liberation is only accepting the very best of treatment on all fronts and having the freedom to say no to anything and everything that doesn’t match that