#hate that i loved you

[lihhelsing]

Hate That I Loved You

Now complete on AO3!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 ↓ | Part 5 | Part 6

Despite Eddie's wishes, everything just keeps on moving.

In a way, it's a little comforting to know that no matter how badly Eddie fucks up, life keeps going. It kept going when Lou almost broke him, it kept going every time he dumped someone or got dumped. It kept going when his mom passed away in the middle of the European leg of their tour. 

It kept moving when he and Steve stopped walking in the same direction. 

Eddie sits in his dressing room, waiting for his make-up to be finished. He barely slept during the night, a mix of anxiousness and fear of whatever was to come.

Eddie wants to talk to Steve and clear the air and explain that what he had seen the night before wasn't what he thought it was. There's nothing between him and Lou. Not anymore. 

It's not like he thinks Steve still wants something with him. He's not delusional or anything, knows Steve is doing this only as a favor to him and nothing more. But he's done hurting Steve, needs to put an end to all this once and for all. 

There was no time in between the band finishing up their part of the music video at around 3am and the super early call time they all had for the last day of shooting. When he got there, Eddie got dragged to wardrobe and make-up and had no time to even look for Steve.

He hoped Steve hadn't bailed because of whatever it was that he thought he saw last night, but if he had, they would most likely know by now. Probably. 

But to be completely honest, Eddie doesn't even realize he's holding his breath in anticipation until the moment he lay eyes on Steve again. 

Eddie gets into the studio all ready for the shooting. His clothes are a perfect match to what he used to wear back then, right before Corroded Coffin made it big. A sleeveless CC shirt with ripped skinny jeans. Always black. Chains and rings and a leather jacket on top of everything. 

It feels even weirder once he gets a good look at it. The studio had been completely modified and now he can see a perfect representation of his uncle’s old trailer. The place where he made most of the music for their first album. 

The place where he fell in love with Steve.

But now that Eddie is really looking at it, he can see only half of the trailer. The other half is actually the recording studio where they had made their first album. 

Half and half, torn in the middle, just like Eddie had been back then. Unable to choose between life with Steve and the band. 

Whenever Eddie was with Steve, his brain was thinking music and lyrics and chords. He itched to put his hands on a guitar, to take notes, to write. 

Then, when he was with the band, he kept thinking about Steve, missing him, missing his touch and his kiss and-

“Hey,” Steve’s voice sounds unsure, like he had tried getting Eddie’s attention more than once. 

“Hi. Sorry, it’s… Weird being back here,” Eddie says and Steve gives him a soft smile which… Don't seem like a bad thing.

“Yeah. Brings back a lot of memories,” Steve agrees and motions forward as if he’s going to touch Eddie’s arm. 

But then the director is calling their names and asking if they are ready and Steve drops his hand, turning away from him. 

“Can we, uh, talk? After? I really wanted to explain what you saw yesterday.” 

Steve shakes his head. “You don’t owe me an explanation, Eddie.” 

“No, I know. But I want to. If you… Please?” 

Steve looks over at him and there’s this unreadable thing about his expression that tugs at Eddie’s heart. He needs him to say yes. Needs him to listen to him. He needs to still have a chance. 

“Yeah, ok,” Steve says finally and Eddie can barely react before they are being directed to their places for the shoot. 

They have both the places that tore Eddie apart, and they are separated by a thick glass. Steve is standing on one side, a symbol of Eddie’s past life, the one he left behind when he started to pursue a life in music. 

The other is all his dreams coming true. Everything that he ever wanted becoming real. Back then, Eddie thought Steve didn’t fit in it. Steve didn’t feel he fit in. He never made Eddie choose, but soon it became clear Eddie wouldn’t be able to balance the two things at the same time for long.

He’d be away too much. And Steve needed him near. Wanted him there and Eddie wasn’t there. They fought, screamed at each other out of frustration and heartbreak. 

Eddie wanted to stay and he knew he needed to leave, but he only found courage to do it when Steve told him he didn’t see a future for them, that Eddie should put his chips on something more certain. 

He realized that day he would never be enough for Steve. He was splitting himself in half for him, trying to make everyone happy, and even then he was failing. Couldn't get things right.

The day he walked away, Eddie felt like his heart was going to give in. And he feels that way again as he looks into Steve’s eyes and sings how he hates that he loved him. 

There's this glass in between them and Eddie can't get through. No matter how loud he sings, no matter how much he tries, he can't have it all. He starts to wonder how much different his life would be if he had bet on his relationship with Steve. 

Wonders if he would've been happy with any other job. Maybe he would have become a music teacher somewhere. Have a white picket fence house with three cats and Steve. Maybe that would've been enough for him. 

Or maybe he'd resent Steve, like he always said he would. Every time Eddie missed something related to the band because Steve, he said that. Like Eddie couldn't make his own decisions. 

He knocks on the glass as Steve walks around the trailer with his back to Eddie. He wants to reach him, but he can't, and suddenly there's this suffocating need to tell him everything. To tell Steve how he feels. 

It's not past tense. His feelings for Steve never went anywhere, always there, always alive. He needs him to know. Even if Steve doesn't feel the same anymore, he's sure Steve has moved on from their thing a long time ago. He just needs him to know. 

Maybe back then it wasn't time for him and Steve, but maybe now it can be.

[wheelie-sick]

"oh, I live in a desert and-"

"wow that must be so terrible" "deserts are so ugly" "I would never want to live in a wasteland like that" "it's just empty nothingness"

wishing 10,000 exploding hammers upon you

behold New Mexico

[ID 1: tall, snowcapped rocky mountains rising above a plain filled with desert scrub

ID 2: brightly colored banded cliff walls of several mesas climbing their way into mountains

ID 3: a desert prairie

ID 4: colorful hoodoos against a twilight sky

ID 5: white sand dunes as far as the eye can see

ID 6: a collection of hoodoos against a stormy sky at sunset

ID 7: a juniper tree standing with a cliff wall in the background

ID 8: several juniper trees on a rocky landscape]

[dragoncarrion]

Fucking hate ai bitches this shit is poisoning my search results just like that tumblr baby crow post fuck y'all for real

[cloudyydraws]

UY! PHILIPPINES!!!! PHILIPPINES!!!!

[inkskinned]

she's singing in another room and my dog is asleep at my feet. my grandma asked me why i haven't found a man yet and i laughed. oh, you know. i like my house clean.

my girlfriend is also my man is also "my partner" if i'm in a professional setting. yesterday we went to a ren faire and a man mimed at me - you're together? and at my delighted nod, his baffled, you're gay? made me laugh. a woman with rainbow hair said i love the two of you together. you're both so beautiful it's absurd.

my dad introduced my partner as my "..... friend. or whatever" the other day. he knows we're dating. in the same way, i was never able to get my sister's husband to stop saying that's gay like it's 2008. he still uses the word fa***t, and my sister's defense of him has always been well, he's just kidding.

my lover and i dance to old music in a tiny kitchen. we judge new music together and take food critique very seriously. we watch love is blind before we fall asleep and agree that if they had a queer season, it would be bloody but also make for excellent tv. of fucking course queer people would know someone for only 2 weeks and agree to get married. what are you saying.

at a bar with friends, a man puts his hand on my wrist. got a boyfriend? and yes, i do have a boyfriend, she's amazing. i am texting her while i wander around a gas station named after geese. i am visiting a swing state for a wedding. in the candy aisle i overhear: she's actually like a lesbian it's disgusting. two teenage girls with packaged sandwiches in their hands, giggling. no literally, like. i'm not, like. okay with her being there while we're all, like, naked and changing.

my girlfriend and i tailgate, drink gin and cider out of cups. from the frat group beside us, a man corrects himself with one of his friends: bro, i mean, nonbinary entity, and it makes everyone around him laugh, myself included. he razzes his friend the same way i would have killed for at 19 years old - like nothing happened, he continues: you apply sunscreen like an alien. he does a little sassy (and fairly accurate) dance interpretation of the motion. his friend is laughing so hard they're crying.

i am lucky, i live in a safe neighborhood in a safe state. my masc passenger princess comes up from DC. i drive her for an hour to where all the leaves are a violent arrangement of color. we walk along the trails, letting autumn into our blood. in this part of the state, there's a lot of pickup trucks and trump signs. when we chastely kiss before getting into the car, i accidentally make eye contact with a woman holding her child's wrist. she looks disgusted. she looks fucking pissed.

two hours later my girl and i are eating dinner on a patio, soaking in the last warmth of new england sun before the chill of winter sets in. we are giggling and trying to talk through plastic vampire teeth. at another table, i see a young woman sit up straighter. i watch her watch us. she blushes and takes her partner's hand from across the table. shy, like the taste of evening has just become something deeper.

it's worth it for this moment, i think. my lover is still humming the same song she's been singing for four days straight and i don't want to kill her for it. her guitar is beside my bed. her toothbrush is in my bathroom. in a few moments i will make us lunch. we are lucky enough to have found each other. it is lucky enough to be in love.

[greelin]

[AFTER REVEALING VERY TELLING PERSONAL INFO] But don’t read into that. let’s move along

[prouvaireafterdark]

listen I know it's heartbreaking that Claudia dies and it's understandable to wish she didn't, but let's please not accuse the writers of fridging her. to do so is a fundamental misunderstanding of the story and is frankly insulting to the intelligence and skill of the writers of the show.

Claudia's death, and the overwhelming grief and regret her parents experience because of it, is quite literally the point of the entire story. she dies because Anne's daughter Michele died of leukemia when she was five years old and there was nothing she or her husband could do to prevent it.

writing IWTV was how Anne coped with the unimaginable loss of a parent losing her child. she created a story about a little girl that could not die and then killed her anyway. Claudia's death is a senseless, unavoidable tragedy, just like Michele's was. the grief that haunts Louis and Lestat for the rest of their lives is the same grief that haunted Anne and her husband.

so when you're accusing people of killing Claudia off to benefit a story about two men, please remember that in real life sometimes parents lose their children. please remember Michele Rice.

she's the reason Claudia exists.

she's also the reason Claudia cannot be saved.

[s0up1ta]

"so grunkle ford how do you know bill?"

"... that's not important."

[bastardlybonkers]

i feel like not enough ppl are factoring in the cultural clash between laios and shuro and the many micro agressions shuro faced while being in their group. literally the name 'shuro' in itself is one

his name is toshiro 😭 lets also not forget that he has his own communication issues, in the opposite way that laios does- thats literally a factor in their argument, that his envy for laios's ability to express himself sincerely manifested as part of his distaste for him.

ig all this to say like, was their fight heart wrenching, especially when reading laios as autistic? absolutely. anybody whos ever been in laios's position knows how much it hurts to realize someone you thought was your friend doesnt actually like having you around, especially when they didnt tell you and you had no way of knowing due to not understanding their cues. but im begging yall to step back and see the nuance of this situation cause im gonna be real a lot of you are kinda just brushing over it acting like everything is toshiros fault and that hes a terrible person when in reality hes an average guy who really, really clashed with laios and it led to a very long misunderstanding due to their supremely opposite methods of communication. even laios and toshiro, after letting everything out in their fight, were able to come to an understanding and start a foundation for an actual friendship built on better communication

ok yknow what Edit: i shouldve made it even more explicit at the end of this post, i hadnt thought i would need to since i started the post with this, but i think a few too many people are missing my point so i just wanna clarify. i shouldnt have said 'really clashed' and left it at that because yeah they did, but it wasnt just their opposite methods of communication, it is also very much that toshiro was experiencing microaggressions via laios. it may have been unintentional on laios's part, but it still happened and wore him down, made it harder for him to communicate on top of both the more subtle social cues that he was raised with and his own communication difficulties. i also want to say that the fandom reaction to toshiro and the complete ignorance of this point is also racist tbh or at the very least ignorant. i understand that the anime did not cover this panel, and neither did the manga, as this was an omake, but im gonna be real with you guys. there are enough context clues within the story to clue you into this. if you didnt pick up on it thats ok, but i think this is a good lesson in picking up subtext in the stories that youre watching and/or reading. kui shouldnt have to explicitly say 'by the way laios was racist to toshiro' for this point to be understood, and at the very least, when the author portrays a character in a sympathetic light (as kui clearly does) it should make you question Why they are doing so and what makes them sympathetic, rather than youre immediate and only reaction to be 'well i hated what this guy did/said so i hate them and they suck'. idk exactly how to finish this, just. idk. question your biases and gut reactions to things you see in media and stories, and think about whether or not theres subtext that youre missing.

[drulalovescas]

When Supernatural premiered on September 13, 2005, the CW network didn't exist yet. The touchscreen phones didn't exist yet. Tumblr didn't exist yet. Archive of Our Own didn't exist yet.

Happy anniversary to the only show ever.

[hinamie]

I don't want to regret the way I lived

[lihhelsing]

Hate That I Loved You

Now complete on AO3!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 ↓

"Are you nervous?" Chrissy asks him as she fixes his hair inside the limo. Eddie smiles tightly at her. 

"No."

She rolls her eyes and Eddie lets out a long breath. 

"A little."

"Don't be," she says and Eddie is the one rolling his eyes now.

"Wow, Chris. Very helpful."

She pats his face affectionately. "Seriously, it's going to be fine. The music video is going to be a success, you're getting another grammy nomination and you're probably going to become the most insufferable person on earth."

Eddie lets his head falls back and closes his eyes, trying to get enough air in his lungs. The car feels stuffed and hot and-

"Hey. Just breathe," Chrissy says. She places her soft hand on his shoulder, but it's not the same. The voice is wrong and the touch is wrong and everything is just…

"I'm fine," he says and Chrissy frowns because she doesn't believe him, but she knows better than to fight him over it. 

"What are you worried about?"

"What I'm not worried about? I'm worried everyone will hate the video, I'm worried Lou is going to show up here even though I explicitly told him not to. I'm worried people will hate the music, say it's too much."

Chrissy doesn't seem fazed by any of that. "The song is not too much, the music video is perfect, we already ran pre-tests and everyone loves it, Lou is not getting anywhere near this place tonight and all security is aware of him and with clear instructions to get rid of him right away. Now. What's really worrying you?"

Fuck. "What if he shows up?"

"Lou is not-"

"Not Lou. Steve. What if Steve shows up?"

"Don't you want him to?"

Eddie opens his eyes and almost laugh at how confused Chrissy is looking right now. He's such a mess. 

"I don't know. I want him to. I miss him. I invited him. But he hasn't responded and I'm not sure if it will be worse if he shows up or if he doesn't."

Chrissy smiles then, and Eddie doesn't get it. It's not something nice or sweet. Eddie fucked up again, even when he said he wouldn't. He cleared the air with Steve. Apologized for being a jackass when they were together. 

Then Steve said he was happy, and Eddie couldn't possibly risk that. He couldn't risk going back into Steve's life knowing he could ruin everything again. So he took a step back, watched him as Steve noticed the change and he let him fucking leave. 

At least, this time, Steve was the one that left. It was all on him and if he also wasn't sure, if he was happy just how he was, then Eddie was glad he didn't mess it up. 

"Ok, here's the deal. You can't control whether or not Steve shows up. But you can control everything else. You can get out there and have a killer launching party. You can read the awesome speech I wrote to you and you can have fun with your band. If Steve doesn't show, then you probably have your answer."

"What if he shows up?" Eddie asks, hand pulling at a strand of hair anxiously. 

Chrissy bats his hand away. "Then you'll also have your answer, sweetie."

"But, like… What do I do, Chris?"

"You don't let him leave this time, dumbass."

Easier said than done. 

-

As soon as he steps into the red carpet, Eddie is a new man. He's still nervous, of course, but it's easier to put on the mask of rockstar Eddie who doesn't really care about anything when all those people are watching. 

He answers a couple of questions, takes a lot of pictures and moves along, waving at some fans that are standing outside and promising to come talk to them once the event is over. 

He walks straight on, doesn't look back. He sees the boys already there, standing at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for him so they can all go inside together. The place is amazing, there's food and drinks and everyone that's anyone is there. 

Eddie is ready. And then. Then he is not. 

"Eddie?"

He whips his head around. Wishes he could stop meeting Steve like that. Wishes he could prepare himself for the blow that it is to see him. 

He's beautiful. Looks like a dream in a fitted suit. 

But he's fidgeting with his hands, eyes a little glassy. He's nervous, looks like he's holding his breath while Eddie doesn't answer him, just stares, dumbfounded. 

Right. He needs to answer him. 

"Steve, hey," Very eloquent. "I'm… Surprised to see you here."

Steve flinches visibly and Eddie needs to keep his damn mouth shut. Before Steve can say anything or give him an excuse to bolt out of there, Eddie takes the steps he needs to get to him. 

Then, his voice is nothing more than a whisper. 

"I'm glad to see you here."

Steve blinks and his expression softens. 

"Thanks for inviting me. It means…" Steve trails off, his words getting lost somewhere between Eddie and all those people around them.

Eddie can see flashes going out and there's a part of his brain reminding him they are in public. He grabs Steve's hand. 

"Wanna get out of here?"

Steve looks taken aback. "You mean, go inside? Yeah, sure, I think we-"

"No, I mean get out of here. My car is still outside, I can take us anywhere."

It takes a second for Steve to process what Eddie is saying. He squeezes his hand and nods his head. 

"Yeah, ok."

Then, they are off, hands linked together as Eddie pulls Steve in the opposite direction of everyone that's getting on the red carpet. There's still flashes going off and he hears people calling his name but the only thing he cares right now is the feeling of Steve's hand on his and the certainty he's not going to let him leave again. 

-

The light of his phone illuminates the inside of the limo. Everything is quiet, Steve is pressed up on his side even though there's all this space inside the car. He reads Chrissy's messages that he's been ignoring for the past five minutes. 

'Where are you?'

'Eddie, seriously!! Pick up the damn phone!!'

'People are saying you left!!! where the fuck are you?'

His fingers are hovering over the keyboard when a new message comes in, the loud sound echoing through the silence. 

'that times photographer said you left with a mysterious man so either this is Steve and you're fixing things and I'm giving you a pass or you can get your skinny ass back here because you won't miss this premiere for a random hookup'

'just warn a girl next time! and use protection!'

Eddie locks his phone with a loud groan, and Steve chuckles beside him. 

"Everything ok?"

"Yeah, Chrissy is just about to kick my ass when I see her again, but it's fine."

"We can go back," Steve offers and Eddie finally looks at him. The lights come and go as the car moves and Steve's eyes are still shining. 

"I don't want to go back," Eddie says and then, "I want to be here with you."

For some reason, that seems to be enough for Steve to snuggle a little closer to him. They don't talk much during the rest of the drive, but all Eddie can feel is how right everything is. 

- 

His house is big. He knows that, objectively. He doesn't even care that much, he mostly just likes that he has space for all his instruments, has a small studio for when he's feeling restless and enough space for the band to hang out and crash whenever they feel like it. 

He likes it because it feels like home, but the wide-eyed expression Steve is giving the house right now also makes him feel a little self conscious. He knows Steve doesn't care about that stuff, but it's weird to know Steve knew his uncle's trailer and now is seeing this. 

It makes him afraid Steve won't see him as the same person anymore. 

Eddie takes a deep breath and tugs Steve's hand until they are moving again, walking inside the house. He doesn't have a plan, doesn't even know why he brought Steve back to his place because if this is Steve letting him down easy, it's about to get really awkward. 

"Want something to drink?" he offers, hand still curled around Steve's, doesn't know if he knows how to let go. 

Steve shakes his head, eyes the couch and it's crystal clear. He wants to get this over with. Eddie can understand that. 

"Ok, so…" Eddie says when they are sitting down. They aren't holding hands anymore and Eddie misses it.

"Let me talk," Steve says in one breath. Eddie is a little surprised. "Can I go first? I just…"

"Yeah. yeah. Ok"

Steve flexes his fingers and bites his lower lip. 

"Ok," he says, resting his hand on the couch. Not touching. Is that a sign? Are things about to go badly between them? "You hurt me."

Ouch. Eddie flinches even though Steve's expression remains soft. His words are harsh. 

"I'm sorry, Ste-"

"I'm talking."

"Oh. Sorry. Go ahead."

"You hurt me. Back then, when you left. And then last month, when I flew across the country for you and you pulled back. I don't… I can't take it anymore, Eddie. I don't think I can handle getting hurt by you again."

Steve closes his eyes. When he opens them again, they are a little glassy like he's about to cry. Fuck. Eddie is not doing too good himself, and this is worse than he imagined. 

"But I also don't know if I can let this go. Let you go. It feels like we keep missing each other and doing things the wrong way and I don't want to do anything wrong anymore. I want things to be right and I want you."

Eddie blinks as Steve's words sink into him. He's not sure what he's supposed to be feeling but there's something shaped like hope trying to emerge from inside of him. He wants to grab it and keep it. 

"Steve, what are you-"

"I'm not done," Steve says and Eddie shuts his mouth. "I gave you the benefit of the doubt, you know? You pulled back after the shoot and I figured you were overwhelmed. Tired. Sad. Your jackass ex was there, you had to shoot for three days straight and the song is really heavy I just… I made excuses for you but I need to know, Eddie, because it's killing me."

There's a long silence before Eddie realizes Steve wants him to talk. 

"Sorry. I-"

"Stop saying sorry."

"Sor-. Shit. I mean… Fuck, Steve."

Steve keeps his face neutral as Eddie struggles over everything. He doesn't understand what Steve is saying and he's afraid to think it's what he wants because he never gets what he wants. Not when it comes to love. 

"You pulled back. You made me leave because it would make you feel better, to think this was my choice, but it was never my choice. It wasn't my choice when you left all those years ago, and it wasn't my choice last month. I would never choose to leave you, Eddie. Don't you see it?"

"But I keep hurting you!" he says because it doesn't make any sense. Steve shouldn't want anything to do with him. 

"And I keep coming back because I fucking love you and I hate that I love you. Still. After everything."

Eddie's heart is almost beating out of his chest and when Steve looks away from him, it breaks a little. He moves on the couch, closer to him, and his hand finds Steve's chin so he can tilt it in his direction. So he can look him in the eyes when he says what he needs to say. 

"Steve. Fuck. I know you don't want to hear it but I'm sorry. I'm sorry that my egotistical ass hurt you. I'm sorry that I made you think you needed to leave and I'm sorry I left you. That was the last thing I wanted. I wanted you more than anything. More than music and fame and whatever. Things only make sense if you're here and when you showed up for the shoot… That's when I realized it. I need you. I love you. I'm sorry it took me this long to realize I never stopped loving you. Please, please tell me I can still fix this."

Steve blinks quickly, his eyes are a little wet and Eddie wants to run but he can't. Even if Steve tells him to go fuck himself, he owes it to him to sit there and take it. 

But instead of cursing him or pushing him away, Steve nods. It's almost imperceptible, but it's there. 

Eddie feels like floating away. "Can I kiss you?"

Steve nods again and Eddie feels like he's moving in slow motion. His hand cups Steve's jaw and pulls him in until their breaths are mixed. He's eager for the kiss but he wants to memorize everything about this. About Steve. 

How he closes his eyes and his eyelashes glow with the tears he was holding back. How he opens his mouth a little and licks his lips, waiting. How his hand grips the couch hard, as if he needs something to keep him grounded. 

Eddie's free hand finds his waist and pulls him until Steve is almost on top of him. He pushes his hair back, counts every freckle on his face and wonders how he lived without him for so long. 

Never again. 

Eddie dips in, lips brushing Steve's and heart hammering in his chest. The kiss is slow, sweet, soft, but it kicks in his muscle memory and soon he's giving Steve what he wants. Just how he liked it. His hand finds the hem of his shirt and he touches warm skin, hopes Steve will let him take them to the bedroom later. 

For now, he kisses him, and Steve kisses him back.

[chloesimaginationthings]

Everyone “hates” Mike in the FNAF movie..

[o0kawaii0o]

no mercy 😭

[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.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

HOT, SINGLE, UNSTUDIED SPONGES. 3000 NAUTICAL MILES AWAY. Come sail the distance and read Tiger Tiger!