I’m actually LOVING how Rick Riordan, and the other writers of the show, took his initial concept of a Percabeth rivalry fueled by that of their parents and kind of turned it on its head?
Now, instead of Annabeth being wary of Percy because he’s a son of Poseidon, he’s wary of her because she made a callous impression on him. They get off to a rocky start even before finding out who Percy’s father is, and when they finally do, Annabeth doesn’t care. Instead of them fighting because of who their parents are, they’re fighting over their own opposed worldviews.
Then, instead of them arguing over which of the gods is cooler and who was right in the story of Medusa, they realize that, just like Medusa, Annabeth is a victim of her mother and that, unlike Medusa, she is a far kinder and stronger person, unwilling to repeat the cycle of hurt. They realize that, like his father, Percy often acts without considering potential consequences and that, unlike his father, he is a far kinder and stronger person, willing to step up for someone he wronged and whom he cares about.
Instead of Percy and Annabeth’s rivalry being focused on that of their parents, it’s focused on who they are, themselves. But the path to friendship is still the same: a realization that they have each other’s backs, no matter what, because they’re not their parents after all.
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.
a fan comic of sanji and zoro from one piece, during the wano raid scene where sanji bandages zoro.
panel 1: sanji looks disgruntled, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth as he ties strips of bandages together. he asks, “hey. still alive in there? say something, wouldja?” zoro answers from off-screen. his speech bubbles are shaky, and his words are occasionally interrupted by groans or hitches of breath. he says, “do… you think… luffy feels… attraction?”
panel 2: a closeup of sanji’s gobsmacked face, shocked by the seemingly random topic. he shouts, “what?!”
panel 3: zoro is wrapped in a cross-pose in bandages with only his face visible. he says, “on the roof… i could almost swear he was putting the moves on traffy…” sanji practically yelps, “traffy?!” with a large, jagged speech bubble.
panel 4: a closeup of sanji’s hands as he continues to wrap zoro. he says, “there’s no way. you’re hallucinating.” zoro snaps back, “he was hanging all over him! and they were fighting and arguing and stuff!” sanji replies, “and what did you think that meant?! we do that, crap-swordsman!”
panel 5: a closeup of zoro’s face. his expression looks fairly neutral, though his eyebrows are slightly raised as he processes sanji’s words.
panel 6: the same closeup of zoro, but now his brows are furrowed and his mouth is flattened in embarrassment. his cheeks are flushed as he comes to terms with the realization that arguing is not always considered a form of flirtation.
panel 7: a full-body silhouette of sanji tending to zoro by candlelight. after a moment of silence, sanji asks, “mosshead. how hard did kaido hit you.” zoro answers, “pretty fucking hard.” sanji repeats, “pretty fucking hard, yeah.”
Quackity: There's a possibility you have two fathers *laughs* and there's nothing bad with having two dads, ok? One of them - one of them is a man called Luzu, and the other one is a man called Wilbur. How does that sound, son? Now we're gonna have to choose and find out which one of them is gonna be your dad.
Tilin: *puts down a sign*
Quackity: Let's see, what does it say? Move, move son I can't read it.
before lbh came back to the human realm he asked mobei why he kept the most pathetic sopping wet peak lord about. mbj casually "oh sometimes i ask him things and it literally changes reality." what. mobei what. no seriously what the fuck do you mean. what do you mean he changes reality. what are you talking about. are you serious. are you fucking with him rn fr "he cant change people though" WHY WOULD YOU GET HIS HOPES UP THEN "i believe qinghua calls it a 'power move'."
THE WAY I CAN SEE MOBEI JUST CASUALLY SAYING HE LIKES HAVING A GOD AT HIS SIDE
credit where credit’s due - the bg of this (astronaut yjh) is a screenshot paint over of millennium actress. in true han sooyoung fashion, the subtitle line is stolen from there as well, though it’s my own amateur translation of it
thought it was oddly fitting, given both stories’ themes of fiction, metafiction, finding and defining yourself in terms of your actions, your love for someone else, how that shapes you and your story, etc… i could go on forever. argh.
if you haven’t watched millennium actress please watch millennium actress and if you haven’t read orv read orv ❤️
Batman: Crime is abnormaly quiet today, one more round and we should go home, chum.
Robin (Jason): A-Okay. I may even have time to read a bit before going to bed.
Batman: I'll think about it.
Robin: We could go to Bat Burguer! Di-Nightwing said they have an amazing chocolate milkshake.
Batman: I don't know, Robin...
Robin: I'm sure they have banana milkshake as well or something fruity.
Batman: Hm
Robin: I knew it!
Batman: Hm??
Robin: You are a fruit bat.
Batman: what?
Robin: I was reading a book about animals and they say that of the 1200 known species of bats only three are vampire bats. You are too normal to be a vampire bat. Also vampire bats are smaller and you are very big and vampire bats move solo and while you like to prented to be moody and lonley you have me, Agent A, Batgirl and Nightwing and that just in Gotham. So you are a fruit bat. And you love fruity things.
Batman: *smilling* I suppose.
Robin: And that means we are going to drink the milkshakes because you can't refuse fruit things!
Batman: Because I'm a fruit bat.
Robin: Yeah!!
----- [somewhere in the future] ----
Robin (Damain): I'm the son of Batman, I'll drink your blood, Hood.
Red Hood: Nah, B's totally a fruit bat and as the "blood son" that just means you like banana milkshake, sorry demon brat.
Batman: *in the background, accidentaly listens* *happy hm*