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.
I reach out to you with my broken heart, asking for help from God and from you. We are on the brink of a harsh winter, and I live in a tent that offers no protection from the burning heat of summer nor the biting cold of winter. Imagine, the rain falling, the wind howling, and here we are in Gaza, without shelter, without a roof to protect us, shivering from the cold, fighting every night just to survive.
My life has become an unending nightmare, and my children sleep trembling from the freezing cold, with fear gripping our hearts every time the clouds gather in the sky.
I beg you to share my account and contribute anything that could save us from this winter, which we dread more than ever before.
Look at how my child was in the past, and how he is now. His face once radiated innocence and angelic beauty, but now it has changed completely. This little face, once full of life, is now suffering, fading before my eyes. Where are the compassionate hearts? Who will help me protect my child, to provide the treatment he desperately needs before it’s too late? The pain I see in his eyes tears me apart, and all I can do is hope in God and the kindness of your hearts.
My children are waiting for your donations, even if it's just $5. Please, I beg you for your help.
i have suddenly become obsessed with a theme that HoO established but never proceeded to extrapolate on, which is:
You are Percy Jackson, and you have been swapped with a boy who was allegedly everyone's favorite person, but they have decided to replace him with you. They just met you. You stand next to his best friend and the people he's known his entire life. In his home. In his cloak. In his place. They stopped looking for him.
You are Jason Grace, and you have just found out you have a long lost sister who completely replaced you in her life with this girl you just met. Your lives and personalities are mirrors. She is you, living the life you were robbed of.
You are Annabeth Chase, and you have just become starkly aware that you have been inhabiting the void left behind by your best friend's long lost brother. You and Luke were just replacements for him. Now you have to look him in the eyes when he has nothing and know you took that life from him.
You are Piper McLean, and you have just found out your relationship is fake and built entirely on the memories of Annabeth Chase. You have been given a boyfriend when hers has been taken away. You have no idea how much of it is real or not but regardless you feel like if your relationship isn't exactly in their image that you have failed.
You are Leo Valdez, and you have just learned that you are the echo of your great-grandfather. You are not your own person. You just exist to be a mirror of him. A doppelganger. An actor and stunt double facing all the danger he never had to but wearing his face. To be there for his best friend decades later simply because he couldn't. You are playing a role. A seventh wheel and a pawn for a goddess who carefully sculpted your entire life for her own purposes.
You are Hazel Levesque, and the only reason you are alive is because your brother couldn't save your his sister. You are a consolation prize. An apology. Your existence here is misplaced in every way but you inhabit it anyways.
You are Frank Zhang, and you are a shapeshifter. Inhabiting your own body feels strange and clumsy when you could be literally anything at any time. You are anything and everything and live your life with the simple certainty of knowing exactly how you will die.
need rhaenicent writers to lock the FUCK in and write alicent and otto’s relationship properly like LOOK AT THIS……..look at how they embrace each other……i don’t want evil otto with no motivations but be tradcath and mean to alicent……..i want deeply layered sexually repressed bicurious evil otto who hurts alicent so much and still loves her so deeply the poison needs to drip through what the fuck