i had a moment today while watching a whiny shitlord complain about the injustice of new sci-fi media having more female leads, i suddenly felt the strangest sense of déjà vu. i couldn’t pintpoint it at first but then out of nowhere, it fucking dawned on me
This is the single greatest meme in the history of the Internet everyone can stop making memes now we don’t need any more ever again
I think I’ve already reblogged this but I don’t care it’s just pure gospel
I really want a science fiction story where aliens come to invade earth and effortlessly wipe out humanity, only to be fought off by the wildlife.
They were expecting military resistance. They weren’t counting on bears.
Imagine coming to a hostile alien world and being attacked by a horde of creatures that can weigh up to 3 tons, run at 30 km/h (19 mph), and bite with a force of 8,100 newtons (1,800 lbf).
By the time you realise that they can traverse water, it’s too late. The surviving members of your unit manage to make it back by shedding their excess gear and running for their lives; the slower ones were crushed to death within minutes.
You later describe the creature to one of the humans you captured, wanting to know the name of the monstrosity that will haunt your nightmares for cycles to come.
The human smiles as it speaks a single word, slowly and distinctly, in its barbaric tongue.
“Hippopotamus.”
This is giving me the biggest, creepiest grin I might have ever grinned
alien soldier: *heavy breathing* holy shit………….HOLY SHIT DUDE DO NOT SIGN UP FOR THE AUSTRALIA UNIT
Attention mission command: the herbivorous quadruped known as “moose” is not so benign as anticipated. One alone has besieged our camp and crushed our instruments, out of no perceived sense of malice but for that with which it was born and an unfortunate desire to eat windfall fruit. Human captive insists there is no plural for this “moose” because one alone is plenty.
Attention mission command: the heat from our instruments appears to attract a highly irritable reptile. It produces a sound from its terminal end, but no attempts at communication have been successful. Its bite is deadly.
Attention mission command: we must be more thorough with our attempts to expunge life on this planet. We have encountered a small arthropod which presents like unto a creature from an artist’s nightmare, with pincers in the fore and a sting at the aft, and entirely too many eyes. They seem to possess a singular malevolence in their propensity for entering our protective wear and our sleeping units. Please advise.
Attention mission command: the canid known as “coyote” exhibits intelligence, pack-hunting behaviour, and a desire to devour our young. Please advise.
Attention mission command: we have not received word regarding our recent missives. We have discovered a creature entitled “alligator” which the human prisoners claim has the highest bite force per square plengthron of any living animal. They move a great deal faster than expected. They drag their hapless prey to a watery death and rend their limbs by use of a grisly twisting motion. Please advise urgently.
Attention mission command: THIS IS A DISTRESS SIGNAL, ALL CHANNELS RESPOND. BEARS. BEARS. THE COLOUR OF THE BEAR IS IRRELEVANT. DO NOT APPROACH. QUADRANTS 1-5 AFFECTED BY BEARS AND MOOSE AND BITING FLIES, QUADRANTS 6-17 AFFECTED BY SHARKS, AND SEA JELLIES. QUADRANTS 18-22 AFFECTED BY SNAKES, SPIDERS, COUGARS (see also, puma, panther, mountain lion, missives 14A, 292L, 652D, and 788D-G), AND SCORPIONS, QUADRANTS 23-47 AFFECTED BY BUFFALO, COYOTES, WOLVES, AND UNTOLD MANY INSECTS, QUADRANTS 48-61 AFFECTED BY SNAKES AND SHARKS, QUADRANTS 62-87 AFFECTED BY SNAKES, COUGARS, ALLIGATORS, CROCODILES, ASSORTED ARTHROPODS. ABORT ALL ACTIVITIES. ABANDON ALL HOPE. THERE ARE DEADLY AMOEBAS IN THE WATER. PIGS AND BIRDS AND WORMS FEAST ON THE FLESH OF OUR DEAD. OUR ONE SOLACE IS THAT, WHEN THE HUMAN RACE WAS EXTERMINATED, IT WAS LIKELY A SMALL MERCY TO A RACE PLAGUED BY AN INHOSPITABLE WORLD AND AN UNCARING GOD. cease transmission.
I just saw your gifset of Xander being an A+ friend to Buffy re: Willow's "advice" about Angelus and was reminded that I am eternally fuming about it, oh my God, I am so cranky about Xander at all times, do you have a rant? Because I am in the mood to listen to a rant.
when i rant it tends to get a little a lot scattered but YES I COULD because ugh xander harris. warning: possibly much repetitiveness and very little sense coming up. this got a liiiitle out of control
Just because two people aren’t romantically involved doesn’t mean they can’t be super important to one another.
Just because two people are super important to one another doesn’t mean they have to be romantically involved.
It is okay to love people deeply without wanting to be with them romantically and people should not make your friendship uncomfortable by consistently nagging you to date.
Let’s appreciate and support friendships and stop demanding people to have feelings they don’t have.
it’s really interesting that eliot in any other show would be the hardass, emotionless tough guy but he’s actually a sweetheart who looks after abused kids, mentors anyone he comes across under the age of 20, cooks to relieve stress, and sings like an angel. like good job leverage. you did a good
Reblog if you ARE a woman in STEM, SUPPORT women in STEM, or ARE STILL BITTER about Rosalind Franklin not getting credit for discovering the structure of DNA and the Nobel prize going to Watson and Crick instead.
if you ever finish a show and think ‘i dont know what i should watch next’ please watch leverage. even if you just finished watching leverage, watch it again. there are so many things that youll see that make sense. this little family is so important to me
*sees friend on my dash* oh my god . that person right there….thats my friend. My Friend made a post. its a good post i love it. i love you. i would die for you
if you give me a task with no deadline i will literally never do it but if you give me a deadline i will get it done exactly 1 hour before the deadline even if the deadline is in six years
Just in case you missed the link in my other post. As someone who has studied Holocaust Literature and who has done a lot of reading on 1935-45 Germany, I feel I am somewhat qualified to point out neo-Nazism when I see it. But if you don’t want to take my word for it, how about the word of Anne Frank’s stepsister, who survived a Nazi death camp, and knows–from first-hand experience–more than a little something about what a Nazi looks and sounds like.
Honestly, I hold Trump supporters in much, much lower regard than I do Hitler’s supporters leading up to, and during, WWII. Why? Because most of Hitler’s supporters had no idea what atrocities his ideology and rhetoric would lead to. Most were just average people who would never dream that their country could ever commit true evil. Very few people not directly involved with the death camps even knew they existed, much less what went on in them.
When shown footage of death camps being liberated, hardened front line German soldiers wept openly, or threw up.
Because they truly and honestly had no idea.
Trump’s supporters–including every Republican who speaks in his favor, who voted for him in the primaries, or who will vote for him in the general election–do not have that excuse. They cannot pretend to be unaware of where this is headed; all they have to do is look at recent history to see exactly what happened last time someone with Trump’s ideology rose to power over a nation.
And if they refuse to look, if they squeeze their eyes shut and turn away from all the evidence laid out before them, even resisting when those who know history tell them, “Look at this source,” well…
No one puts that much effort into refusing to see unless they already know what they will find, and want to avoid the responsibility that comes with that knowledge. And when you work that hard to avoid looking, you don’t get to claim unwitting ignorance.
No, Trump supporters know exactly where this is going. And they are eager to get there.
I’ll keep reblogging this and adding to it as long as Trump and his supporters continue to be neo-Nazis. Here’sanother interesting article about Trump and his supporters in the American neo-Nazi party, aka the GOP, from the Atlantic.
I’m tired, but if you want, you can scroll back through my “rob gets political” tag, and/or “rob talks about fascism.” Somewhere in there are a couple of reading lists to further acquaint yourself with what fascism actually is, and how the Nazis rose to power in late 1930s Germany, so you can draw your own conclusions.
And again.
Even if it isn’t Nazi’s you have George Takei talking about it being the same situation that happened to the Japanese-American people in World War II too.
David Duke, former leader of the KKK, is going to run for Congress. He points to Trump’s success as inspiring him.
Just cause you support Trump doesn’t make you racist, but keep in mind that literally every racist DOES support him. I don’t know about you, but that screams “evil” to me.
this will not hold a candle to your fic recs, but im plunging right in regardless. alright, so *cracks knuckles* where do i begin? you are the bastard child of royal blood, the son of a prince who has no legitimate heirs and stands next in line to inherit the throne. you are made the royal assassin, which is generally not a child-friendly occupation and the kind of thing you introduce yourself with, hence many lies about what you do up in the keep. (1/?)
As you grow, you are still known to much of the keep as the Bastard. You never see your father, but come to be regarded fondly enough by the common people of the keep. Still, you have no close friends, and the combination of loneliness and pressure from the people around you molds you into an extremely loyal bastard with little to no concept of self-worth. (2/?)
Robin Hobb places you squarely in the heart of the story with compelling narrative, excellent character development, and enough pain to make a brick wall weep tears of slow-dripping cement. (3/?)
This doggedly loyal character is thrown into danger again and again, giving everything he has to the service of the crown despite such trivial factors such as love (ah, who needs love? Not this sorely bereft-of-affection bastard, that’s for sure), reputation (what’s in a name, anyway?), and, well, pain (so much pain). (4/? and deeply apologetic for clogging up your askbox)
The Farseer trilogy, high fantasy, with dragons, magic, growing up, little details, and everything in between. You want a story with seamstresses and cooks doing everyday things? This has it, losing none of its compelling plot in the process. Starring: love, animals (animals!), friendship, FitzChivalry Farseer, whose name literally means ‘son of Chivalry’ and never gets round to changing it (you got the url guess right) (5/? is this 5?)
Also starring: fabulous worldbuilding, combat, mental issues (I just really want to hug him he has been through so much), strong women (so many strong women), great description, diversity (royal family canonically described as having dark skin, I don’t know who keeps fuckin up the book covers), childhood, love, so much love, the idea of duty over choice, tenacity, humour, magic used in cool and realistic ways, what happens to kids when you cut them off emotionally from everything they love (6??)
The series is my favourite right now, perhaps because it doesn’t shy away from the grittier details, and maybe because it’s so fascinating watching Fitz grow up. Thanks for sitting through that rambling, badly-planned book rec, and I really do hope you read it. Assassins! Magic! Old anger! Animals! Pride! Love! (wipes tears away from eye) I just cannot recommend it enough. This is one of the best fantasy series I have ever had the privilege to read.
Dude, I am fucking sold. I am gonna acquire these books.
Has anyone else been the designated Harry Potter Friend™ in various groups of people……like whenever Harry Potter is mentioned, everyone looks at you because they Know
Anyways the most savage joke Andy Samberg’s ever done was that one time at the spirit awards the year all these racist ding dongs werent bothering to pronounce Quvenzhane Wallis’s name right and he spent the whole night hosting it pronouncing her name perfectly (including but not limited to opening his speech with saying that she’s one of his all-time favorite performers) and seemingly obliviously calling Paul Rudd “Paool Rood”
To any suicidal followers I may have: This is a sign to not kill yourself. You are loved and the world is special because you are in it. Keep holding on.
In a footnote to a May 10, 2005, memorandum from the Office of Legal Council, the Bush attorney general’s office argued that restricting the caloric intake of terrorist suspects to 1000 calories a day was medically safe because people in the United States were dieting along those lines voluntarily.
“While detainees subject to dietary manipulation are obviously situated differently from individuals who voluntarily engage in commercial weight-loss programs, we note that widely available commercial weight-loss programs in the United States employ diets of 1000 kcal/day for sustain periods of weeks or longer without requiring medical supervision,” read the footnote. “While we do not equate commercial weight loss programs and this interrogation technique, the fact that these calorie levels are used in the weight-loss programs, in our view, is instructive in evaluating the medical safety of the interrogation technique.”
Another another friendly reminder that the Minnesota Starvation Experiment subjected adult men who were VOLUNTEERS to 1,560 calorie diets and the psychological effects were so profound that one volunteer cut three of his own fingers off and could not remember why.
These men were volunteers who knew exactly what they would be going through and when it would end, and who believed they were doing it for a good and moral reason (the research was used to help rehabilitate victims of starvation and famine at the end of WWII).
And these are the things we are expected to engage in FOREVER to stay at a “healthy” weight.
Reading about the Minnesota Starvation experiment was my wake-up call. It was what kicked me out of my eating disorder. The guy missing three fingers, whatever his name was, he was the last straw for me.
Scared me so fucking bad I stopped restricting my food that day, and never went back to it.
WOW.
I deeply, deeply regret my time counting calories and points.
hello, have you ever read the farseer trilogy by robin hobb?
I have not! Is it good? Do you recommend it? Is there magic? Details, mon ami, I am curious. A cursory Google search reveals assassins, assassins are good.
Bilbo: owns a sensible car that he drives at twice the speed limit through residentials, while Thorin braces himself with a hand on the ceiling, a hand on the dash, and a foot propped up next to it. Lobelia puts up a sign in her neighborhood that says “DRIVE LIKE YOUR KIDS LIVE HERE THAT MEANS YOU BILBO BAGGINS” and Bilbo texts her at a red light a reminder that he doesn’t have any children, thank you. When he adopts Frodo, he slows down a tad to just a quarter over the speed limit, unless Bilbo gets caught up telling one of his stories. He’s been clocked going over one hundred on the road back from Bree; his only defense was that, “The part with the trolls always does get me riled up.”
Thorin: drives ten miles below the speed consistently and obliviously while Bilbo slowly dies from the agony of it in the passenger seat, except when someone cuts him off at which point Thorin tailgates them for miles. His radio presets all lead to static because he’s owned his car for about two decades, and set up the radio stations in his old hometown. He never changes them: he knows that sooner or later he is going back.
Thranduil: owns a fancy sports car that in theory has a backseat and in reality comfortably fits exactly him and maybe one passenger who is still badly hunched over in shotgun (really discourages Legolas from bringing friends home from school). Speeds all the time. Has received multiple speeding tickets for the exact same stretch of road, which he pays and then continues to speed. The local traffic cops all know him and hate him and realize that he funds like a quarter of their operating budget.
Bard: owns a truck. Helps people move with his truck. Is too nice to say no even though he hates helping people move with his truck. When his kids are in the car, he drives exactly the speed limit. When he’s alone, he zips down the road at 14 mph above the speed limit because 15 is the point at which it’s reckless endangerment. He hasn’t gotten a ticket in years though. Most cops like him except the ones that don’t, and the ones that don’t always have the most obvious speed traps. Bard likes to roll through them at exactly the right speed. He nods at Alfrid as he does.
Samwise Gamgee: drives his grandfather’s old motorcycle which is older than Sam himself. It does not pass any emissions tests. It has extremely difficulty going up hills. But it always gets to the top, as Sam cheerfully reminds Mr Frodo, who rides in the little sidecar that Sam’s Gaffer used to transport his bulldog around. Frodo wears a helmet and googles. Sam keeps shouting over the roar of the engine if Frodo is doing alright , which is a nice sentiment that Frodo absolutely cannot hear.
Merry and Pippin: are not allowed to drive anymore. Not after The Incident. But it’s fine because they have plenty of friends who are happy to give them rides, or at least willing to give them rides, or are going to give them rides regardless of their feelings on the matter. Merry and Pippin are masters of the aux cord though. You never drive to better jams than when they are riding with you. It even makes up for all the times they say they just need a ride to a friend’s house and they make you take them to their weed man.
Elrond: arranges the neighborhood carpools. Is not sure how this became his job.
Eowyn: drives a big goddamn truck with a hitch for horses in the back. When men try to tell her how to park it (and men are always trying to tell her how to park it) she stares them down until they slink away. She’s got a lot of old country CDs on constant rotation; she likes hauling the truck up hills to the sounds of the great women of the Grand Ole Opry. She ends up stealing her uncle’s motorcycle from his garage and roaring out of town on it without a helmet is one of those stupid things she’s sorry she waited so long to do.
Boromir: drives an SUV his dad bought for him. Ends up ferrying a lot of hobbits in it. Will never start driving until he’s sure they are all buckled up.
Faramir: owns a smart car because it’s fuel efficient, compact, and easy to park in the city. His father refuses to let him park it in front of his house. Eowyn thinks it’s sweet, even if it is a pain in the ass to try to makeout in the back seat.
Galadriel: is chauffeured. Does not believe in making small talk with the chauffeur but somehow knows everything about him. Once she looks at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes and says, “why don’t I drive today?” And then proceeds to go roaring down a road recorded on no map or GPS while the chauffeur holds on for dear life. They arrive unscathed and ahead of schedule. Galadriel smiles knowing at the chauffeur until he can collect himself enough to go around and open her door.
Aragorn: owns my grandfather’s station wagon, which means it’s a partially rusted behemoth full of tarps, propane, fishing gear, and an odd smell identifiable only as “woodsy old man”. Everything in his car seems to be covered in a strange powder. It’s either dirt or the physical manifestation of age. He has a glovebox full of maps to towns you aren’t sure exist anymore along country roads you’re pretty sure are overrun. In his garage, there’s another car covered by a tarp. Rumor has it that it’s a big old fancy car that would make aficionados weep at the sight of it, but you peeked under there once and it looked nice and all but you can’t help but think Aragorn looks better in his old reliable rust bucket.
Gandalf: owns an ancient Volkswagen van. Never uses turn signals. Is offended that you would imply he needs to.
It’s been literal years and I’m still not over Snape’s cloak-shrouded ass for asking an eleven year old muggle-raised kid the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane in front of the everyone on the first day. You want to know the difference? There is no fucking difference. They’re colloquial terms for the same fucking plant. He just wanted the intellectual upper hand over a goddamn little kid. “Haha, trick question”, so clever. you oily bag of tits
I want to write an alternative version of Romeo and Juliet where instead of being a little ponce and trying to work things out for himself, Romeo asks his smarter friends what to do about the whole thing and Benvolio and Mercutio come up with the world’s greatest plan:
Marriage of convenience between Juliet and Mercutio.
Think about it.
Juliet’s parents want her to marry into the Prince’s family. Mercutio is a good compromise between no marriage and Paris.
Mercutio probably won’t get his inheritance if he keeps being HELLA FUCKING GAY ALL OVER THE PLACE so a beard is only a benefit to him.
They would probably get along great rolling their eyes at how adorably stupid Romeo is.
Romeo and Benvolio could get a “bachelor pad” right next to Juliet and Mercutio’s house. Every night, Romeo and Mercutio high five as they hop the fence to go bang their one true love.
The second half of the play is just all of them trying to keep up the charade and being “THIS CLOSE” to getting caught all the time. But everything ends nicely because true love conquers all.
Everybody wins. Nobody dies.
THE SHAKESPERE AU I NEVER KNEW I NEEDED
DUDE DID YOU JUST FIX ONE OF THE MOST ICONIC PLAYS EVER CREATED?!
ONCE AGAIN EVERYTHING IS SOLVED BY THE QUEER LENS.
Ok i have read Sansukh but you have a better way with words and my campaign to get my friend to read it has stalled so PLEASE GIVE ME THE MOST IMPASSIONED FIC REC IN THE HISTORY OF FIC RECS I THROW MYSELF ON YOUR MERCY
O K A Y
SO
Let me take you back, my dear, to approximately one year ago, shortly after my ass finally sat down for a plane ride and read all three Lord of the RIngs books in twelve hours. Naturally, having finished them and being in need of more, I went out to AO3 within days and started sifting through the Legolas/Gimli fic, because that ship sails itself to Valinor and I’m not a moron. And the VERY FIRST FIC when you sort by kudos (one does not simply enter a new fandom sorting by Date Updated, after all, sorting by kudos is the wise soul’s path) is Sansukh, with some rather peculiar tags (’dead dwarf peanut gallery’ among them) and 400K words and the ships Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield and Gimli/Legolas Greenleaf in pride of place.
“Well,” I said to myself, “I’ve never even READ the Hobbit and from what I know, I don’t ship Thorin and Bilbo at all, doesn’t Thorin try to kill him?” (Not that that’s ever stopped me before, but forgive me my naivete.)
“I’m sure there are more Legolas/Gimli fics that include ships I ship,” I decided, and kept right on scrolling.
So I skipped it. And methodically worked my way through the nine hundred odd Gimli/Legolas fics available on AO3. The quality of these fics declined, both in terms of characterization and of grammar, as these things do, until I broke down and admitted to myself that I couldn’t stand to drag myself through an unbroken block of text, and went to glance over FF.Net because that’s my usual move. Now, self-insert fics are some people’s cup of tea, and that’s great, but I was on a mission, I had a quest, and Girl-Of-The-Week/Legolas was getting in the way of my need for Gimli/Legolas, so I didn’t last long in the FF.Net archive, needless to say.
“Come on,” I groaned, “there’s got to be more good shit, where is the rest of it? Where’s my novel-length mess of mutual pining and tragic adoration and banter, with Eternal Third-Wheel Aragorn and beautiful world-building and rampant use and abuse of Sindarin and Khuzdul?”
And then I recalled something that had almost slipped my mind.
There was that one fic. The one I’d taken to skimming past because why do people ship Thorin/Bilbo, anyway? It was long, it was popular, and hey, I could always just…stop, if I didn’t like it, right?
I was desperate. It was worth a try.
And, oh, darlings, was it ever worth a try.
I was a chapter in.
I had been dropped headfirst into a pool of characters I didn’t know–Thorin? He was a king of something, I thought. Thorin’s nephews, Fili and Kili? Never met them. I was pretty sure one of them was blond. Mahal? Had to Google him. Dead members of the Company? Had to look up a list. Thorin’s father and mother and brother and grandparents? Spent a few VERY confused minutes doing research before I realized half of them had been created wholecloth by @determamfidd. It didn’t matter. By the end of the first full chapter I was ready to take a throwing axe to the chest for these dwarrows (and Mahal).
Watching Thorin come to terms with his death was agonizingly wonderful.
By the time Thorin’s spirit visited a sixty-something red-haired dwarf with a temper and an axe, I was addicted.
By the time Thorin had a sudden and terrible revelation about Bilbo Baggins, I was beyond sold, I was in love.
The culture of the dwarves of Erebor, the return after the diaspora in the Iron Hills and their stony determination to survive, Dain Ironfoot’s abrupt promotion to king over the bodies of Thorin and Fili and Kili, Lady Dis’ grief, the anguish of the Moria colonists, the dwarves in the Halls of Mahal grieving their living and dead loved ones, Gimli’s reckless love for his family and his people–it was like falling, or flying, or drowning. It was perfect, I thought to myself, feeling a great tremendous weight in my chest like the breathless moment after getting the wind knocked out of you, right before it hurts, when you just think oh, wow. It couldn’t get better, never mind that this person had apparently written however many thousands of words of just…dwarves being dwarves.
And then.
Bilbo left. The Ring was on the field of play.
“There is no way this woman is crazy enough to rewrite the entire trilogy,” I said to myself. “And if she maintains this level of talent all the way through, I may have to scream.”
Well.
The fic is almost done. Dets is that crazy. I have had to scream.
This is the epic-length Tolkien fic of your dreams. It has women (and dwarrowdams, and lady elves) being badass. It has nonbinary and trans characters. It has world-building beyond the dreams of mortal man. It has desperate pining and steady love and families torn apart and reunited and heroes to save Middle Earth.
It has songs that will break your heart and make you smile and wriggle their way into your mind (The Iron Hills For Me fucking BROKE ME, I read that section in bed and I had to put my phone down so I didn’t get tears on it, I love it so much). It has moments of brilliant, shining joy where all you can do is laugh and heartwrenching world-weary tragedy where crying just doesn’t seem like enough, somehow. It has Aragorn, the perpetual third wheel, who just wants his friends to be happy and would consider saving Middle Earth a definite bonus to that. It has all the mid-battle and post-battle and just-because banter you could want, between dead dwarves and living dwarves and elves and Men and even the occasional Vala. It has Legolas and Gimli cobbling together a friendship from shared experiences and shared grief and falling in love and miring themselves down in misunderstandings and pining and coming together in the most perfect ways. It has Khuzdul and Sindarin and writing that honestly could put Tolkien to absolute shame in places.
It’s beautiful.
It’s elegant.
It’s sprawling.
It’s everything I could have hoped for in a Tolkien fic, and so much more.
It’s fanfiction of Lord of the Rings, but only in the way that Dante’s Divine Comedy and Milton’s Paradise Lost are fanfiction of the Bible.
someone:
you were pretty good at that thing, why'd you stop doing it?
me internally:
I get extremely anxious when I think about doing something I might possibly succeed at because I base my self-worth on my achievements and other people's approval, I am afraid because I know I will never be able to live up to my own unrealistic expectations, I hate making mistakes because they make me feel worthless, I take negative feedback too personally, I feel immense guilt over not doing things that I've been avoiding which just makes me avoid them more, I feel ashamed and inadequate due to how difficult it is for me to stay committed to anything, I'm worried that I'll just end up disappointing myself and the entire world, and I am convinced that if I failed I would literally die.
me externally:
idk i guess i've just been kinda busy lol
listen, there is absolutely nothing that gets me going like mutual seemingly unrequited pining like? i live for both people losing their minds over the other person in bitter silence. savoring every single accidental brush of their fingers, elbows, thighs, every stray glance, memorizing every gesture or expression they catch while the other isn’t looking, all while being absolutely convinced that it’s one-sided only to finally!! finally find out it wasn’t in a triumphant moment of bliss after years and years of delicious, soul-rending, torturous, heart-wrenching pining. i literally don’t care about the fact that this trope is predictable af and always plays out the same way i will still go wild over it every single time like they’ll be doing the same reveal scene i have seen a million times and i’m still on the edge of my seat gasping “are they gonna kiss???”
I’m such a laid back person you can tell me “goodnight” and I can see you posting and I understand sometimes you just need time to yaself to enjoy ur dash without talking to anybody, i get ya shorty do ya thing
Does anyone else get really caught up on the small details in their writing? Like you can be really good at writing situations and feelings and characters, but you get to a point when you’re writing something small like what they’re making for dinner and before you know it, you’re googling recipes with tomatoes because you think the scene won’t be convincing unless you know the cooking time and temp??
