#so fuck you people for doing it

[zhimaqiu]

me: *full of energy*

me, 5 minutes later because classmates started acting like I don't exist during a team game: all my energy went into pretending that this is fine

[thatrandomblogsays]

Annabeth: I, a child, had to earn Thalia’s love, that’s how the world works! I have to earn my moms love. Love is transactional, you gotta be worthy of it first silly :)

Percy, listening to this on the train

[inkskinned]

this is just my opinion but i think any good media needs obsession behind it. it needs passion, the kind of passion that's no longer "gentle scented candle" and is now "oh shit the house caught on fire". it needs a creator that's biting the floorboards and gnawing the story off their skin. creators are supposed to be wild animals. they are supposed to want to tell a story with the ferocity of eating a good stone fruit while standing over the sink. the same protective, strange instinct as being 7 and making mud potions in pink teacups: you gotta get weird with it.

good media needs unhinged, googling-at-midnight kind of energy. it needs "what kind of seams are invented on this planet" energy and "im just gonna trust the audience to roll with me about this" energy. it needs one person (at least) screaming into the void with so much drive and energy that it forces the story to be real.

sometimes people are baffled when fanfic has some stunning jaw-dropping tattoo-it-on-you lines. and i'm like - well, i don't go here, but that makes sense to me. of fucking course people who have this amount of passion are going to create something good. they moved from a place of genuine love and enjoyment.

so yeah, duh! saturday cartoons have banger lines. random street art is sometimes the most precious heart-wrenching shit you've ever seen. someone singing on tiktok ends up creating your next favorite song. youtubers are giving us 5 hours of carefully researched content. all of this is the impossible equation to latestage capitalism. like, you can't force something to be good. AI cannot make it good. no amount of focus-group testing or market research. what makes a story worth listening to is that someone cares so much about telling it - through dance, art, music, whatever it takes - that they are just a little unhinged about it.

one time my friend told me he stayed up all night researching how many ways there are to peel an orange. he wrote me a poem that made me cry on public transportation. the love came through it like pith, you know? the words all came apart in my hands. it tasted like breakfast.

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

I am incredibly serious right now when I beg you all, please, and if you have Twitter or Tiktok or whatever to please spread the word: click on an author's profile on Ao3.

You want to know if an author has written more? Want to know if they're still writing? Want to see more from them? Want to know if they've written a trope or kink or sex scenario you enjoy?

Click on their name. And look at their profile.

I cannot tell you how many times in the last six months someone has read a new or newer fic of mine and said they (a new reader who has read nothing else I've done) "can't wait to see what you do next!" I've written 50+ fics and over a million words already.

"I don't know if you're still writing..." click on my profile. I am. I literally wrote a 128k+ fic for that ship last month.

"Would you ever do X?" "Please do Y!" I already did. Click on my name and look at my works.

Archive of our Own is a library. It's an archive. Not social media. It is your responsibility to fight back against the laziness that corporate algorithms have trained into you.

Click my author name. Just click it. Just click it.

Before you demand more, or ask if a writer will do XYZ, or wonder if the author still writing, or anything - click on their profile. Click on the author's profile.

I'm not trying to be mean or condescending or anything like that. I'm just exhausted. It's disheartening and frustrating to repeat myself ad nauseam, because someone couldn't take thirty seconds to do the tiniest bit of work to see if I've written lately, if I've written more for their ship, or scan my works to see if I've written what they're asking for. Please. Please. I'm begging.

Click the author's name, and explore before you ask.

[paracosmicessence]

have doodle lol

functionally, i am alive, emotionally?? idk about that work has me crying almost everyday now chat idk if i can do this anymore

[spyres]

like idk maybe this is just me but i'd genuinely rather throw my loose change into something that could possibly be but is very unlikely to be a scam and just be like "oh well" if it does actually turn out to be a scam than try to denounce every single palaestinian that just wants to live in safety. tripling down on that behaviour is just fucking embarrassing. "it's not racist to be skeptical of donations asks" that's true but saying that a group of brown people are all hustlers running a mass scam ring is undoubtedly extremely racist you fucking clowns.

[carry-on-my-wayward-butt]

imagine getting twenty four hours of a fraction of a taste of what marginalized bloggers on this fucking site have been told "doesn't break TOS" for the past 15 years and deciding to openly threaten to just nuke the entire website lmfao

[poisoned-pearls]

Masquerade Road Trip 🚌

Okay but like…. What if instead of using mirrors they had to stuff this whole cast of people into a bus/van

It’d be a little funny

(Also turn up phone brightness to see it better. Or don’t. Idk I don’t control you)

[kimmkitsuragi]

oh my fucking god i don't have any clothesssss

[artkaninchenbau]

People keep on asking for more Baby Robin and Papadile so here is more Baby Robin and Papadile. Now never ask anything from me ever again

[inkskinned]

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.

[rogueshadeaux]

“I hate the script, the vault dwellers sound so cheesy—“ my Brother in Steel you realize that’s the point, right? They were bred to act like the physical embodiment of an HR e-mail. Did you not catch the memo that Vault-Tec put out regarding their experiment facilities?

[giantkillerjack]

Today my therapist introduced me to a concept surrounding disability that she called "hLep".

[plain-text version of this post can be found under the cut]

Which is when you - in this case, you are a disabled person - ask someone for help ("I can't drink almond milk so can you get me some whole milk?", or "Please call Donna and ask her to pick up the car for me."), and they say yes, and then they do something that is not what you asked for but is what they think you should have asked for ("I know you said you wanted whole, but I got you skim milk because it's better for you!", "I didn't want to ruin Donna's day by asking her that, so I spent your money on an expensive towing service!") And then if you get annoyed at them for ignoring what you actually asked for - and often it has already happened repeatedly - they get angry because they "were just helping you! You should be grateful!!"

And my therapist pointed out that this is not "help", it's "hLep".

Sure, it looks like help; it kind of sounds like help too; and if it was adjusted just a little bit, it could be help. But it's not help. It's hLep.

At its best, it is patronizing and makes a person feel unvalued and un-listened-to. Always, it reinforces the false idea that disabled people can't be trusted with our own care. And at its worst, it results in disabled people losing our freedom and control over our lives, and also being unable to actually access what we need to survive.

So please, when a disabled person asks you for help on something, don't be a hLeper, be a helper! In other words: they know better than you what they need, and the best way you can honor the trust they've put in you is to believe that!

Also, I want to be very clear that the "getting angry at a disabled person's attempts to point out harmful behavior" part of this makes the whole thing WAY worse. Like it'd be one thing if my roommate bought me some passive-aggressive skim milk, but then they heard what I had to say, and they apologized and did better in the future - our relationship could bounce back from that. But it is very much another thing to have a crying shouting match with someone who is furious at you for saying something they did was ableist. Like, Christ, Jessica, remind me to never ask for your support ever again! You make me feel like if I asked you to call 911, you'd order a pizza because you know I'll feel better once I eat something!!

Edit: crediting my therapist by name with her permission - this term was coined by Nahime Aguirre Mtanous!

Edit again: I made an optional follow-up to this post after seeing the responses. Might help somebody. CW for me frankly talking about how dangerous hLep really is.

Plain-text version:

Today my therapist introduced me to a concept surrounding disability that she called "hLep".

Which is when you - in this case, you are a disabled person - ask someone for help ("I can't drink almond milk so can you get me some whole milk?", or "Please call Donna and ask her to pick up the car for me."), and they say yes, and then they do something that is not what you asked for but is what they think you should have asked for ("I know you said you wanted whole, but I got you skim milk because it's better for you!", "I didn't want to ruin Donna's day by asking her that, so I spent your money on an expensive towing service!") And then if you get annoyed at them for ignoring what you actually asked for - and often it has already happened repeatedly - they get angry because they "were just helping you! You should be grateful!!"

And my therapist pointed out that this is not "help", it's "hLep".

Sure, it looks like help; it kind of sounds like help too; and if it was adjusted just a little bit, it could be help. But it's not help. It's hLep.

At its best, it is patronizing and makes a person feel unvalued and un-listened-to. Always, it reinforces the false idea that disabled people can't be trusted with our own care. And at its worst, it results in disabled people losing our freedom and control over our lives, and also being unable to actually access what we need to survive.

So please, when a disabled person asks you for help on something, don't be a hLeper, be a helper! In other words: they know better than you what they need, and the best way you can honor the trust they've put in you is to believe that!

P.S. Also, I want to be very clear that the "getting angry at a disabled person's attempts to point out harmful behavior" part of this makes the whole thing WAY worse. Like it'd be one thing if my roommate bought me some passive-aggressive skim milk, but then they heard what I had to say, and they apologized and did better in the future - our relationship could bounce back from that. But it is very much another thing to have a crying shouting match with someone who is furious at you for saying something they did was ableist. Like, Christ, Jessica, remind me to never ask for your support ever again! You make me feel like if I asked you to call 911, you'd order a pizza because you know I'll feel better once I eat something!!

Edit: crediting my therapist by name with her permission - this term was coined by Nahime Aguirre Mtanous!

Edit again: I made an optional follow-up to this post after seeing the responses. Might help somebody. CW for me frankly talking about how dangerous hLep really is.

[mzminola]

Every time I see news of crowds agitating against Israel outside a synagogue, or museum, or Jewish day school full of children, or restaurant, or educational event, and so on in the US, every time my thought is why the fuck aren't you holding this 'protest' at city hall? Or your state legislature? Or your federal reps' offices?

A random Jewish institution in the United States has absolutely zero power to affect the decisions made by Israel's parliament or military. You're not "raising awareness" or "drawing attention to the issue" because the general public of the US is already at least somewhat aware thanks to the news, and Jewish people are in fact one of the groups in the US to be the most fucking aware of what's going on.

If you are upset by US military aid going to Israel, you need to convince your federal representatives to change that. Those reps do not base US military foreign aid policy on random US citizens harassing other US citizens.

If you want the US to provide more civilian relief in the form of food, medicine, or helping refugees come here, you need to convince reps at every level. Can your city partner with a refugee organization to arrange housing? Can your governor arrange scholarships or exchange programs to state universities? Can the feds channel more funds to Doctors Without Borders?

Do a write and call-in campaign. Hold your protest at legislatures. File a petition. Do something to directly express your desires to the elected officials who have a direct say in policy.

We've held protests at city halls and state legislatures and federal buildings for centuries. Why aren't you doing so for this issue?

Why are you macing people attending synagogue? They have no more power over elected officials' choices than you do.

Why are you screaming at schoolchildren? They have less power over elected officials' choices than you do.

Why are you blocking entrance to a museum? Hold a fundraiser to build your own, if you want to educate people so badly!

I know the antisemites don't actually care about US military & foreign aid policy. I know the racists are simply reveling in an excuse to whip up a mob to attack Jews. It's obvious.

But if you really, truly want to help the people of Gaza, you need to stop being part of that hateful mob, and organize your own, real political actions that directly engages with your elected representatives.

[datcravat]

It seems there's a new lawyer in town!!!

[bet-on-me-13]

The Ambassador

So! It was finally happening. After Years of Pleading with the Guardians and other Ruling Bodies of the Galactic Community, the Justice League had finally gotten then to agree to create an Alliance with Earth.

With an Alliance, Earth would gain the Protection of Multiple Empires and The Guardians, which would mean an end to the Constant Alien Invasions they faced. There was also the legal opening of Trade Routes between Planets to exchange Technology and Resources on the Galactic Scale.

Of course Earth would return the Favor, legally being able to defend it's Allies with its unusually large population if Superheroes and quickly advancing Tech, while also trading Tech and Resources between Planets.

Of course the battle was not entirely won yet.

They still needed to begin Negotiations to see if both sides would even agree to the Alliance in the First Place, as well as decide on the specifics of the Treaty. The United Nation's would decide on Ambassadors to represent the different countries, while the different Alien Governments would send an Ambassador Each.

When the Ambassadors arrived, they asked to be introduced to the Representatives of the Planet. Except, they claimed that there was a missing Member.

They claimed that there was one more Major Kingdom on the Planet, the most Powerful One, which they felt must be at the Negotiations.

When asked who this missing Ambassador was, they simply replied, "King Phantom of the Infinite Realms, he and a Shard of his Kingdom reside on this Planet, do they not?"

Now they are working around the clock to find this missing Kingdom, because the Alien Ambassadors refused to negotiate without the most powerful Kingdom at the Table, and they woud not wait forever.

Just who was this "King Phantom", and why had he not revealed himself yet?

...

Sam and Tucker sat on the Couch in their apartment, staring at the TV as the Chosen Representatives for America finished their Speech. Apparently the Peace Talks had been put on Hold for a few more days as they did some last minute preparations. Something about making their Guests more comfortable before they began discussing politics.

"Hey Danny, they're delaying the Negotiations for a few more days." Sam called over to the Kitchen.

"Aw, what?!" Shouted Danny from the Kitchen, sounding extremely disappointed, "I just finished making all the Popcorn!"

"I know Honey, its too bad." Tucker comforted his Partner, "Let's marathon Star Trek instead, how about that?"

Danny slumped out of kitchen and into the Couch between them, steaming bowl of Popcorn in his Lap, "I guess. We can make good use of all this popcorn at least."

Sam patted him on the arm, "Hey it's okay, the Talks will just take a few more days."

Danny shrugged, "Yeah, you're right. Man, what I wouldn't give to be in that Room."