man. this whole thing pisses me off because like. even when people talk about staff having a history of hating trans women, that this isnt the first time, without fail black trans women are forgotten to be included again and again. im not surprised this caused such an uproar when the popular white woman gets deleted. nobody should be, its been that way like forever. some cunt in my inbox got annoyed i called rita a sex worker (lol? okay)
but i mentioned that in my post because so many black trans women have gotten removed from this site for their sex work alone, regardless of if it "broke community guidelines" or not, especially when tumblr live and the ads on this website are so fucking horny. idek what to say rn because like. this wont get as many notes as the posts talking about her will. the exploding car thing is gonna get more attention than the trans women on this site you dont actually care about listening to. ive been talking about how unfair it is to be a black tgirl on this site for years and nobody cares.
i love rita, we talked abit the other day and she's doing fine, dont get it twisted and think i hate her or some bs, she's a big fucking reason im not fucking homeless.
but part of why her deletion got to #1 trending on tumblr for multiple days in a row is that she's white
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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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There is a specific brand of tumblr user who says they’re pro Palestine but is entirely focused on how Palestinians act, resist, talk, and think - nothing about actually supporting Palestinian liberation - fixated on us like we’re unruly children and talking down to us and how we should “actually” stop our own genocide. Stop amplifying these people. I do not care about their backhanded “solidarity”.
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Guys bbc merlin is trending. And we’ve made it trend only because the official Merlin twitter changed the bio and tweeted for the first time in ten years. The power of this fandom is unmatched. We feed on literal crumbs and go feral whenever we get the slimmest shred of hope. Now can you imagine if the show actually came back??? Like. Imagine getting to see Arthur and Merlin reunite. The collective madness such an event would unleash. We’d break tumblr for real wouldn’t we.
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guys, i think the hermits are going to accidentally start a prank war again. because just like last time, a game of telephone has begun.
first, false made iskall's build into ''false beans,'' her shop from the previous season. however, to give herself plausible deniability, she signs it with "love, Joel. x" due to his username, smallishbeans.
next, iskall sees this, and completely believes it. he thinks it was joel who pranked him, and as he says to pearl while showing off the sign, which he kept even after tearing the prank down, "joel gave me a kiss." in his most recent video, he pranks joel by sending him loads of anonymous messages in order to completely spam and fill his inbox, preventing him from getting any more mail, with notes such as "thinking about you. x"
of course, joel is going to have absolutely no context for this, because he didn't make the initial prank. so who is joel going to assume sent him all those messages while he was away on holiday? well, i have a guess.
etho.
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Talking to Simon in a bar, it's mostly just you talking at him and him nodding along, taking big swigs of his beer so he doesn't have to pull up his mask too often. Sitting side by side in the booth instead of across from each other, he says its cause you're too quiet but it's definitely so he can keep his arm wrapped around your waist, hands busy on your rolls, kneading them unnecessarily, stuck to your side, knees bumping each others while you nurse your drink and run the conversation,
"I've always wanted a snake, you know? I love snakes, they're so pretty and adorable,"
and ghost finally opens his mouth to contribute to the conversation
"Snakes are nice, what type do you want?"
"Hm, like.. I would love a big boy. My favourite is an emerald tree boa constrictor, but maybe start off with something smaller, maybe an albino,"
His arm slides up without warning, slinging it around your shoulder, pressing down, his fingers gripping your neck, squeezing. not harshly, but not lightly either. your eyes widen, and you look at him, a slight blush covering your cheeks, making a little shocked squeak,
"Wha-"
"This is how heavy it would be, a big python, heavier even. Bundled up around your shoulders, around your neck." He squeezes his fingers, the grin under his mask shown through his eyes, "You can take it right? A big guy, choking you out, wrapping around your pretty lil' neck."
"Come on, stop messi-"
"Of course you would be able to take it, you're a good girl, you'd take care of 'em... anyway, it wouldn't even be a good pet, cold-blooded piece of shit, but you'd still love it anyway, right? That's just how you are, love...
He let's go and chugs down his beer, his eyes still looking at you from the side, silent again for a while, while both of you try to collect your thoughts. You open your mouth to talk, but you're interrupted once again.
"Don't get a snake. You have me, how many more cold blooded shits do you need in your life, I can choke you out, contrict you, maybe not coil around you but i can leave you feeling helpless anytime you please, love."
He murmurs, his voice low, pressed up close to you, his balaclava ghosting your ear, his arm back around your waist, squeezing your thighs.
"...what about right now?"
"..."
He gets up and slams two 20 quid notes on the table and drags you out the bar, his grip tight. You two don't even make it home. He opts for the ginnel next to the bar. Half an hour after you left the bar you're pumped full of cum, your throat is sore and you're covered in hickeys. Over ghost or a snake, pretty sure you'll choose ghost every time.
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