I don't know if this has been asked and answered but with your love of Top Gun and airplanes, would you ever consider getting your pilot's license?
it is my retirement plan 🤞🏽 god willing i make enough money to learn how to fly someday
im currently a broke student with no access to any accessible airstrip within like 20 miles (i live in nyc & don’t have a car) and also every time i mention getting my pilot’s license to my mom she has a conniption about safety “what happens if my baby falls out of the sky” etc. so i have to wait for her to die first
but yes I would love love love to have that opportunity at some point. If only to make my writing about flight more accurate (obviously if you know anything about flying my fics are the most inaccurate things in the whole world & i apologize for that). Im a big proponent of “doing stuff just to know how to write about it” which is the only reason, for instance, I have ever smoked a cigarette (not that my writing about that is particularly accurate either but)
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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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ID: three drawings showing from left to right, jet, zuko and sokka from avatar the last air bender as children from the waist up. Left jet is slouching with his arms crossed, body facing left, head angled looking to the right. He has a licorice wood in his mouth. Center is zuko frowning, looking to the left. On the right is sokka about to trow a snowball, small pink tongue peaking out of his mouth. "chiptrillino . 2023" is written faintly on the bottom of sokkas parka. "please don't repost" is written on the left side of the green square behind jet End ID
dug these up again after the nice anon ask
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if you want to deal with all my reblogs may I direct your attention to my side only my artworks blog?
@chiptrillino-art
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A snippet from a future fic I'll probably never write, where Steve is a widower with two teenage kids, and he and Eddie randomly meet up, rekindling their old flame. This is when they've been together a while:
“Thank you,” Steve says, coming up behind Eddie at the bathroom sink.
Eddie pauses, catching Steve's eye in the mirror. “What for?” he asks, mouth foamy with toothpaste.
Steve slips his hands along Eddie's hips, hooks his chin over Eddie's shoulder. “For loving my kids.”
“You don't—” Toothpaste dribbles down Eddie's chin and he stoops to spit what's left in his mouth into the sink, gathering his hair to one side. He rinses his mouth out, wipes his face with a towel, then turns to Steve. “You don't have to thank me for that. Of course I love them.”
“Not everyone I've dated has.”
“They're idiots.” Eddie grabs the hem of Steve's shirt, pulling him close. “I mean, first of all, they're part of you, and I don't think I could love you and not love them. But...” He trails off, a small smile tilting his lips. “They're amazing kids.”
Pride swells in Steve's chest; he slides his arms around Eddie's waist and says, “They are.”
“And I'm pretty damn honored I get to be part of their lives,” Eddie says, “so thank you,” and he butts his head gently against Steve's.
Steve huffs and slides his hands up Eddie's back, pulling him into a tight embrace. “I love you.” He presses a kiss to Eddie's neck.
“I love you too.”
“And they both love you as well.”
Eddie lets out a shuddering breath. Steve knows how nervous Eddie was, when they started dating, that he wouldn't be welcomed, but it's almost like he's always been part of their family now. “Good to know,"”Eddie says.
Steve holds Eddie a little tighter. All those years ago, back in Hawkins, when they ended things, Steve thought he'd never see Eddie again. But here they are, together—a family—and Steve's never letting him go this time.
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Continuing my incredibly sporadic and incredibly all over the place Adventure Time watch, it's really hitting me how Finn and Jake really are at completely different stages in life.
Jake had this whole other life going on before Finn became aware. Dogs in this world mature faster, age faster and don't live as long as humans. Jake went through multiple different phases, phases where he was cruel and reckless and even criminal. I had gotten used to Jake being this calm and wise center of the series that it has been eye opening to see that it was a multiyear long struggle to get to that point. And then Finn began coming into his own and wanted to be a hero and Jake changed again for him.
People have commented on the nature of Finn and Jake's relationship and it really does feel like a sibling pair in which there's a sizable gap between the elder and the younger. Jake does at times take on an almost parental role in guiding Finn. As Finn is growing up and really figuring out who he is, Jake is solidly in doggie middle age. While Finn is roaring with restless, reckless energy and trying to figure out who he is, Jake has mostly settled himself and is now making peace with his past and his future.
Jake's death is made out to be tragic but I bet he passed nice and easily of old age without want or regret. A peaceful death. But I believe the real tragedy was not in how Jake died but the fact that he didn't adequately prepare Finn for it. Jake had been the main pillar over the course of Finn's entire life. He has lost people and suffered a lot as teen/young adult, he couldn't imagine a life without Jake even though Finn would live long after Jake had met his natural end. I wonder if the two of them even realized how incongruous their lifespans were. Surely Simon or even the Islanders could have explained it to them. I wonder if it would have even mattered.
Finn did everything with his entire body and being, including love. He had decided early on that Jake was going to be his partner, best friend, brother forever and maybe nothing Jake or anyone said could have convinced him to move on.
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