#im not doing too bad

[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.

[cheshire-castle-library]

I'm terrified I'm gonna leave this little bastard in my code when I put it in my dissertation appendix, but a little part of me hopes I get away with it~

[percydoodless]

the player gave kris rizz

[neigepomme]

caleb gets in a bad mood when he has to wipe away the lipstick mark you leave on his cheek in the morning.

not because you left one and it's an inconvenience — absolutely not. you can mark him up as much as you want, and the thought of complaining would never cross his mind.

he gets sulky because clearly showcasing that he has a significant other to those in the fleet would get you in danger, so he reluctantly wipes it off. still, it makes him more strict during the day, and the recruits under him can feel his cranky mood.

"not good enough. five more laps around the building."

and with an exhausted sigh, they all respond "yes, colonel xia," wondering if he got up on the wrong side of the bed that morning.

the solution to his sulky attitude on days where he has to work is simple though — just leave a kiss mark on the junction between his neck and shoulder, so that he can hide it under his uniform. sure, a possible consequence is that you'll both get to work a little late, him with a bit of a dazed look on his face and reddened ears, but as long as the recruits don't have to run more laps for no reason? no one will comment on it.

alternatively, if caleb's having an off day and you leave a kiss mark anywhere on his face? he's never wiping it off. he loves running errands with you handiwork displayed on him.

his favorite thing about it?

when older ladies in the grocery store stop him and comment on it. he'll flash them a giddy smile and say something along the lines of "isn't she just the greatest?" and walk away with more pep in his step — while they fawn over how lucky that loverboy's darling is.

[walkerrenee]

sometimes i randomly remember how insane maggie stiefvater was for making ronan lynch—a man that can create reality—a man of god, when he himself is a god of a man. then to take this man and have him be not only in love with, but a literal soulmate of a man named adam. parrish. adam parrish. who, mind you, lives above ronan's very own place of worship. and is the namesake of the first of mankind that the bible says god made from the literal dust of the ground (adam parrish: comes from nothing, hair "dusty" in color) and appoints him to care for the garden of eden (adam parrish: sacrifices himself to ronan's sentient forest). then has adam viewing ronan as a god and ronan saying "maybe he dreamt (created)" adam???? like who just fucking writes that and goes about their life?

[dead-inside-demiboy]

Im sorry but being aromantic and/or asexual is such a beautiful, complex identity that opens up almost endless possibilities and interpretations about sex and romance and relationships and struggles within those,

and i will always absolutely LOATHE how both the outside and the aro/ace community itself have boiled these identities down to just "doesnt have sex" and "doesnt date"

[catatonicatnap]

-Think of what kind of book that would be, huh?

I thought about this moment from Episode one a lot.

[hinamie]

this is an ideal illusion .

[heartorbit]

searching for a star that's still unknown to anyone!

[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?

[woozi]

WOOZI on SEVENTEEN winning Artist Of The Year in MAMA 2024

[hurlyburlytopsyturvy]

when you get engulfed by a space-time anomaly and it forces you into therapy for the greater good

[juniemunie]

[Abandoned by the Lightners, his heart became cracked with hatred.]

Hitting a lil' too close to home?

[straycalamities]

this was supposed to be just a doodle erm

[pigswithwings]

a pocketknife if u r ok draswing those,,, if not either an old clunky tv or a 3ds

hello sorry it has been one billion years i was charging up my art beam

[swordmaid]

🦋 oathbreaker shri’iia