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.

🚨🚨🗣️BURDGE IS BACK, THIS IS NOT A DRILL 🗣️🚨🚨

literally the original backbone of this fandom and the blueprint for 95% of percy art…a (show critical 😌) legend returns!!

I've been thinking about that post that's like hey don't think autism is destigmatized irl just because there's memes on this website about "my autism beam" or whatever and Ykw?? Guys, it's not even hard to see how much people still love dogging on autistic people for being "weird" all over the entire internet! Even on here!! A lot of people still see us as the people they're allowed to bully for no reason, and while I'm glad there's been some positive change over the years, we still need to work towards getting people to unpack why they think some people are ok targets, and how most of the time it's ableism.

But … how the staff swear? We Need to know that too…(of you want of course … love your art and your Amazing humor!!!)

(thank you! :D)

Trein: said 'damn' once when he was sixteen, still lays awake at night in embarrassment about his deplorable lapse in manners.

Vargas: swears like an old-timey carnival strongman. lots of "poppycock" and "what the devil" and an occasional "deuces!" (this makes classes very confusing for poor Deuce)

Crowley: doesn't intentionally swear, but every once in a while he'll, like...put together a presentation on the new staff policies or something that builds up to an acronym which, by complete coincidence, spells out something shockingly depraved.

it happens often enough that you'd think he's doing it on purpose, except. it's Crowley.

Sam: swears in the text, gets away with it because the character reading is always something else

(this is very specific to the Japanese version and probably too meta but I made myself laugh with it, I...I'm sorry)

Alright so I'll never play gacha games, I actively dislike them.

But...lord have mercy in heaven above

Based on Solar Lunacy: Chapter 13 by @bamsara

Elphelt Valentine... save me...

I CAN'T STOP LAUGHING AT THIS SEQUENCE Zoro looks so concerned

Young Justice is always a little...concerned. With Phantom's living situation. Now they're outright afraid for him, and Bart has decided it's time to Ask An Adult.

It was the little quips. The tiny little things. Stuff that didn't seem to matter to Phantom at all, or appeared to be normal for him, that he didn't realize weren't normal at all.

"Oh, better not hope my mom catches me." "Doing what, staying out past bedtime?" "Nah, using my powers; she'd vivisect me!"

"Another stab wound. Great." "Don't worry Phantom, I've got the med kit-" "Oh, I'm not a baby or anything, I can handle it just fine. Just gimme a sec to take it out."

"My dad has better aim than that." "...Like, when he's hunting, right?" "...At what other times would he be shooting at me?"

"Huh. Not as bad as my parents place. Look; they have a decontamination shower!" "Phantom, this lab has been vandalized to the point of needing a hazmat suit." "Did I stutter?"

Finding out each others identities did nothing to soothe the worry. Tim quietly told the others that every time he tried to run facial recognition, he kept hitting a government firewall he couldn't breach. Phantom never told them his last name, just his first, and 'Danny' is super common.

The thing that really did it though, the thing that made Bart snap and run off to ask Max, was when Danny had a nightmare.

He was talking in his sleep.

"No. Don't-stop. Stoooop. I need...my skin. Mom, no. You can't...peel off...my skin..."

Bart didn't even wait for them to wake Danny up before he was standing in front of Max, talking a mile a minute as he tried to figure out what to do, with Wally staring in horror over a plate of waffles as he computed everything that Bart was saying.

~~~~~~

Danny had a dream about his mom and Skulker arguing about how to skin him. He wouldn't really call it a nightmare, because it was just Skulker, but the scariest thing was Skulker insisting to his mom that it was possible to skin him with a potato peeler. Dream mom was arguing that it was not, and that from a scientific standpoint that was a really piss poor way to preserve a specimen.

He hadn't been begging them to stop hurting him, he'd been whining at them to knock it off.

But when he wakes up, it's to a room full of worried friends and an old man who calls himself Max.

"Kid, I think we need to talk."

🌙 Sword master & Master diviner

one of my FAVOURITE interactions is when aziraphale is possessing madam tracy, because when aziraphale sees crowley he says his name in the most loving, thankful and tender voice i have ever heard, communicating ten thousand words at once, the most important ones being i am so glad you're here.

and then crowley replies in a would-be casual voice "hey aziraphale! see you found a ride." but its so familiar, and immediately knowledgeable?? like crowley has just arrived but he already knows everything about the situation, and i love it so much because everyone else is still so behind, trying desperately to figure out what's going on. crowley and aziraphale though? they're there side by side knowing exactly what the other knows, no explanation or catching up required.

and then of course:

"nice dress, suits you"

"ahh! 🥰 this young man won't let us in"

"leave it to me"

the way they lean into each other??? the softness in aziraphale's voice as he says one little sentence knowing that he can count on crowley to fix it for him. and then crowley leaning and softly promising that he'll do this bit, don't even worry about it angel.

everything is just so reminiscent of an older couple who know each other inside and out, can always rely on each other, and can communicate their feelings and the situation with a half glance alone

"Let me worship you..."

Fanart inspired by this fanfic (NSFW) made by @theomnicode (READ IT, IS AMAZING ( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝)) Also hey, I'm not dead :D (read the notes for info) Have a hot sneak peak:

Nomoto and Kasuga from She Loves To Cook, And She Loves To Eat making a Valentine's Day meal (and sneaking an early dessert) for a kofi request 💞🩷

Currently i am edging myself to your booty.

Da booté

The Girl Who Died // Hell Bent