every day i wake up and i am so thankful 911 let bucktommy develop after the failed first date…like it wasn’t just a plot device for bucks bi awakening but also a lesson in how real adults communicate and treat each other in relationships and it’s not just about buck it’s about tommy too!! like that date was about him and his right to be treated with respect as much as it was about a first for buck!! and we know tommy can be dead pan and kind of a bitch (so affectionately) but he is also so very kind in the way he lets buck down. and abc could have just left it there but instead they brought him back!! and i think just as much as the bi awakening the lesson buck learns this season (or gets to exercise at least) is that even as an adult you will inevitably behave and treat people in ways that you are decidedly not proud of (i am also looking at you basketball!buck) and you have so much power to let the communication and discussion that follows strengthen your relationship with that person but you have to work for it. and sometimes you will be treated poorly and you have to remain kind in the face of that and all of it also takes so much work but the work MEANS so much.
but yeah tldr i’m so glad 911 brought tommy back for that follow up coffee date bc it was such a good example of how real life communication and apology works and can lead to something more even (especially) if you’re feeling embarrassed and vulnerable!!
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Myself XD
But actually 🍒 🍑
Cherries 🍒: I think you’re hot!
Peach 🍑: I want to date you!
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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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One thing I really appreciate about Cleo is that they have the inherent power of making whoever they’re talking to enter into a bickering match with them. Basically, talking to Cleo makes you divorced from Cleo. Somehow
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I saw this on twitter and the idea of this happening sounds absolutely hilarious. Like Han, Ventress and Merrin just direct Thrawn to a DMV and make him coming to dathomir absolute hell (I also accidentally sent this ask to someone else 😅)
LMAO???? i take back everything I've ever said about legends, this is everything to me. nothing but respect for MY king of dathomir send that gay blueberry to parking ticket superhell
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