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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I feel like many people have a fundamental misconception of what unreliable narrator means. It's simply a narrative vehicle not a character flaw or a sign that the character is a bad person. There are also many different types of unreliable narrators in fiction. Being an unreliable narrator doesn't necessarily mean that the character is 'wrong', it definitely doesn't mean that they're wrong about everything even if some aspects in their story are inaccurate, and only some unreliable narrators actively and consciously lie. Stories that have unreliable narrators also tend to deal with perception and memory and they often don't even have one objective truth, just different versions. It reflects real life where we know human memory is highly unreliable and vague and people can interpret same events very differently
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me: making a silly little video about annabeth's progression from making percy a blue birthday cupcake vs. her recognizing is as something sacred between percy and sally and not making blue food
tiktok commenters: um actually that's definitely a plot inconsistency and it shows how little rick pays attention because why would that even be a thing
SHUT UP I'M EXPLODING YOU WITH MY MIND IT'S ABOUT ANNABETH FIRST THINKING IT'S A NONSENSICAL LITTLE THING AND AFTER THEY GET TOGETHER OFFICIALLY PERCY OPENING UP ABOUT THE ABUSE HE AND HIS MOTHER FACED AND HOW THIS ONE SEEMINGLY SILLY THING BECAME THEIR WAY OF REBELLION AND COMMUNICATION DURING DIFFICULT TIMES AND ANNABETH RECOGNIZING THAT AND LOVING PERCY SO MUCH THAT SHE NEVER TOUCHES THE IDEA OF MAKING BLUE FOOD AGAIN BECAUSE SHE KNOWS AS MUCH AS SHE LOVES HIM THAT'S SOMETHING SO SPECIFIC AND IMPORTANT TO PERCY AND SALLY THAT IT WOULDN'T BE RIGHT FOR HER TO BE PART OF THAT
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Considering that there’s another post going around that lands on this conclusion, I think it deserves its own succinct post:
When transmascs share instances of positivity to remind each other that the way we are treated isn’t all bad, it’s then used as proof of the whole of transmasc experiences being this way, and that transmascs are not oppressed as a whole.
When transmascs share instances of harm done to transmascs to raise awareness that transmascs are harmed directly within our societies, it’s used as proof that we are taking up too much room in conversations because the harm we face “isn’t bad enough”.
When transmascs share instances of outright murder of members of our community to show that no, transmasc issues are not somehow “lesser” because “we aren’t dying” because we are dying, it’s used as proof that we are trauma dumping and trying to make other people feel sorry for us—look at these AFABs being whiny and hysterical and trying to portray themselves as victims. Or that it isn’t specific enough to us so we should shut up and let other people speak for us.
Transmascs cannot speak about our experiences without being touted as an example of why transmascs as a whole should shut up.
This is erasure.
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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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Political ads: My opponent has jacked up taxes every year since he was elected!
Me: Which taxes? Income? Sales? Property? Business?
Political ads: I promise to hold the line on taxes!
Me: Which taxes? What government programs do those taxes contribute to? What gets cut if the lack of taxation causes a deficit?
Political ads: Think about the taxes!
Me: WHICH TAXES. WHICH TAXES ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT. TELL ME WHO'S ACTUALLY GETTING AFFECTED BY THESE TAXES YOU'RE SO CONCERNED WITH.
Reminder to always ask what it is that people aren't saying in these ads.
A lot of them want you to think that it is your personal taxes as a working-class person that they're talking about. But if it's taxes on the rich that they're "holding the line on," then they're using your desire to survive with a greater portion of your own income as fuel to keep the upper classes from paying their fair share.
I keep getting the same three or four political ads (half aren't even for the district I live in) and I'm frustrated that they use these transparent tactics and that there are probably people that don't have the time or background to take that moment to go 'what are they hoping I hear in this? What are they actually going to do?'
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