#i wrote this too

[kedreeva]

Following the author of The Last Unicorn on Facebook is the only thing that makes being on that site worthwhile.

(source)

[dogsuffrage]

It's sad at the end of May seeing people reblog the "here it comes!" Pride logos post. You didn't notice that brands have decided it is no longer safe to openly support LGBT rights. The past 2 years have shown a dramatic decline in corporate sponsorship of Pride. And no, we don't care about the corporations, but you should care that they think the general public will oppose their support of LGBT rights. Anyway pay attention. The logos didn't change for Pride. It's bad.

[ispyspookymansion]

stream i am the prayers of the naive on ao3 dot com

[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.

[spyres]

[lilacgaby]

katsuki, who practices asking you out by talking to you. or well, a sleeping you at least.

you'd developed a habit of sleeping after a study session, which is when he'd take the time and softly whisper his confession to you, hands fiddling with his pencil, curses spilling from his lips as he messed up. heart rate spiking everytime you'd adjust yourself in your sleep.

it was the fifth time when he finally got his words down pat. his voice vibrating against the palm he used to support his head as he stringed the words together perfectly,

all for it to go to waste when he actually confessed. the words leaving his mind, his mouth hung open as the cogs turned in his mind, your favorite flowers held tightly in his hands as he fought to string together something. anything?

"please be my girlfriend."

as he felt his soul leave his body, he was relieved when you took the flowers out his hands, a smile on your lips as you eased all his tension with just 3 words.

"of course, katsuki."

years passed, yet the memories of his preparation never left his mind. and even though they weren't exactly helpful in the end..

he couldn't help himself from practicing his proposal to you using the same method. now though, you were asleep in your shared bedroom, you were both pro-heroes now, and he fiddled with the ring he bought for you instead of that mechanical pencil.

a lot of things didn't change though. the anxious feelings and butterflies that bubbled in his chest as he stuttered and mumbled a practiced speech over and over again,

and you, who played along despite not really being asleep.

tags: @k0z3me @darhinadadragon @maddietries @exoticrasin @lavendarstarz @hisonlyobsession @i-the-fluffo @cookielovesbook-akie @frosted-flakes @irenne-stans @lulumi1u @bakunis @twirlyphim @drawingforshitsandgiggles @babylambdietcoke @deimosjay

[dcxdpdabbles]

Jason: Hi!

Danny: Good evening

Jason: Oh um, yes, good evening. Do you eat to survive?

Danny: What?

Jason: Ha ha ha! I'm joking! Of course you eat, um I eat too! But why?

Danny: I don't-what are you asking me?

Jason: Gotham is beautiful at night! It's when I eat!

Danny: Are you a-

Dick appearing out of nowhere: Hey there, Jay. You wandered off while I was getting us water. Sorry about him. He's very drunk. I'll take him home to sleep it off.

Danny: *Grabbing Jason's writ* Do you know him?

Jason: Yes, he's my brother. See, that's my family. *Shows lock screen of family* I have many siblings, which means I would be totally fine with lots of kids!

Danny: *Let's go* Oh good. Sorry if he's really that drunk I didn't want him going home with a stranger. No offense

Dick: None taken. I appreciate men like you who keep everyone safe. Come along Jay, let's get you home.

Jason: But-

Dick: You asked me to step in when you were going out of control. Remember?

Jason: Right yes. Ugh Bye.

Danny: Goodbye.

Dick outside of bar: That was terrible. You really do suck at flirting.

Jason: I just froze up! Ugh I hope he doesn't think I'm a idiot.

Danny watching them through the window: That's a vampire pretending to be human. I can smell the undead on him and he was going to lure me to a dark alley if his human servant hadn't stepped in.

Jazz: I was gone for like five minutes Danny, how did you find a creature of the night within that time?

Danny: It's a gift. Thankfully, I'm too smart to be tricked by a vampire.

Jazz: ......you would have followed him into the alley wouldn't you?

Danny: He may be a blood sucker but did you see his muscles? What a way to die.

[ao3-crack]

(x)

[gatoburr0]

The divine, one of a kind bride and the ugly ass groom.

[iiping]

what happens in the ruins stays in the ruins 🙈

[lazylittledragon]

pt 1 of some much requested cyra lore

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

going through my old journals as part of therapy homework and i'm reading a section written in the emotional wreckage of a full-on breakdown when i get hit with this line:

There is never a satisfying answer to ‘Why didn’t they love me?’

like wow babe. good fucking point

[capricoopla]

The Chemist

Slugcat whom I stole the nose of and slapped it back on its back

[thereadingmoon]

I feel like Muir isn’t afraid to tell a story. In the sense that she writes like she doesn’t care what a reader thinks of her.

When I first read GtN, I found it as very average SF/F fare and my heart was barely in it. I felt like the ending was messy with its battle royale aspects and I wrote Gideon off as a standard edgy YA-style protagonist. The narrative sounded so simplistic and I didn’t feel attached to the cast of characters. On its surface, GtN is a very standard high-concept story with a stereotypical summary on goodreads. I was ready to write Muir off as an ok and middling debut writer.

Then I picked up Harrow.

It was like Muir was a sleeper agent and just blew my mind. I could see her skill in her craft and my investment did a complete 180. I had to reread GtN and realized all the things I missed and all the things that were planted from the start that were hidden by Gideon’s ignorance, flippancy, and naivety—the reasons why I wrote the book off. I underestimated Muir because I thought Gideon’s voice was her voice.

The writer is a liar, an illusionist, and a conman and I fell for Muir’s game. And that is so refreshing.

[inkskinned]

because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.

you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.

you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.

don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.

if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.

you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:

how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!

aren't you happy yet?

[chronicowboy]

plugging my own review because i have never been nor will i ever be normal about leverage season 5, episode 9: the rundown job