#I never know what to do with it :(

[potatopossums]

me: *thinks about attractive regular customer I see at work*

my brain: .... [cautious] + [dopamine]

me: *confusion in traumatized aromantic??????*

[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.

[novelconcepts]

I Saw the TV Glow is such a uniquely, devastatingly queer story. Two queer kids trapped in suburbia. Both of them sensing something isn’t quite right with their lives. Both of them knowing that wrongness could kill them. One of them getting out, trying on new names, new places, new ways of being. Trying to claw her way to fully understanding herself, trying to grasp the true reality of her existence. Succeeding. Going back to help the other, to try so desperately to rescue an old friend, to show the path forward. Being called crazy. Because, to someone who hasn’t gotten out, even trying seems crazy. Feels crazy. Looks, on the surface, like dying.

And to have that other queer kid be so terrified of the internal revolution that is accepting himself that he inadvertently stays buried. Stays in a situation that will suffocate him. Choke the life out of him. Choke the joy out of him. Have him so terrified of possibly being crazy that he, instead, lives with a repression so extreme, it quite literally is killing him. And still, still, he apologizes for it. Apologizes over and over and over, to people who don’t see him. Who never have. Who never will. Because it’s better than being crazy. Because it’s safer than digging his way out. Killing the image everyone sees to rise again as something free and true and authentic. My god. My god, this movie. It shattered me.

[artkaninchenbau]

A h-heartfelt reunion..?

Bonus

[egophiliac]

once again, don't think I'm not still obsessing over 7-12

(eventually I will get back to being less scribbly, whoops)

[limbcom]

"Holding your hand doesn't have to mean that I accept your friendship," the liar said to the truthful, trying to lie in front of the only person who understands his intentions.

He knows, of course, that the liar did not lie. For the liar is also the truthful.

[batcavescolony]

*Talia visiting Damian*

Talia: Damian, how are you? *glares at Dick*

Damian: I am doing well mother

Dick: *from behind him* *mouthing: why the fuck are you here?*

Talia: oh that's great! I see you have a new pet? *Mouthing back: to see MY son*

Damian: this is Haley, Grayson's dog, she's staying with me while he goes on a mission.

Dick: *flipping Talia off where Damian can't see* yep, he's so good with animals

Talia: I'm aware *throws a knife at him*

Dick: *throws it back*

[randomfandomworks]

Sylus takes notice one night, as you’re resting against him, of the exact way you position yourself in his hold.

You press your body to one side of his, until you’re basically molded against him. Your heart lays above his, it’s beating harmonizing with his own until they inevitably sync together.

Your head rests slightly on his collarbone, your face lingering just above his neck leaving your nose to occasionally bump it after a deep breath. Breaths which fan across his skin and give him little goosebumps.

Though it isn’t any of this that truely catches his attention.

One of your hands lays gently on his chest.

Sprawled exactly where in a past life a final blow had taken his life.

Your fingers graze where the gash would have been, leaving soft touches instead of dripping blood.

You’re unaware of what had happened ages ago, though subconsciously you apologize. Holding him close now as you couldn’t before. Perhaps it was part of your soul coming to its peace as you laid with him now.

His hand shakes slightly as it comes to trace your own, he turns, placing a kiss to the crown of your head and begins to focus once again on your steady breaths and your heart's rhythmic beat.

Perhaps this will be enough of a resolution to relax his own soul as well, that way his part and yours can come and rest together again as you two do now.

[lemongogo]

life of regret

[chloesimaginationthings]

The true meaning behind FNAF princess quest

[akanemnon]

FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!

FIRST - PREVIOUS - NEXT

MASTERPOST (for the full series / FAQ / reference sheets)

[emmg]

Imagine being one of Emmrich’s students.

You go back to Treviso to make sure your family is ok and you see your esteemed, mid-50s professor ziplining across the city rooftops like a complete maniac.

He’s jingling like a walking bazaar while he’s ziplining because apparently half of Thedas’s gold is hanging off him, and he’s casually hanging out with one of the deadliest Antivan Crows and some decades-younger absolute snack who is constantly batting their eyelashes at him.

How do you even attend his lecture after that

[coddda]

I wish we could have met in some other way.

Lawlight Week Day 2: Soulmates

If you saw me repost and re-edit this several times uh No you didn't </3

Still frames/Individual gifs:

If you know what every frame is from you get a free cookie. by the way

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The peach tree beams so red, How brilliant are its flowers!

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[meliorism-numinous]

Moonlight

If he ever manages to escape there will be nothing left for him to return to.

He is a dead man walking.

[p0nyr0ni]