Who I need to pay for them to write Avatrice fic based on Afterlife by Hailee Steinfeld?
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I’ve needed to cry all fucking week and it just isn’t happening.
I’ve been withholding sleep from myself to try and trigger enough of a breakdown to do it and all I’ve done is make myself freaking nocturnal.
Its like needing to sneeze and not being able to I’m so frustrated
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Apparently, my decision to be silly and make fanart of someone's writing (because I genuinely enjoy the story the person is writing and I was struck with inspiration upon reading a particular scene) has benevolent and wildly unforeseen consequences.
I apparently gained a bit of control of the canon because said writer really loved the art and decided what I drew/draw is canon.
2. Writer put said artwork into the document of his story right below the scene, so now it's IN the story where people who read the story will see it (with a link to me)
3. He sent the artwork to all his friends and people he knows because he was so excited
Wholesome interaction and I watched him do all that in real time, good stuff. However...there are two more consequences I was notified of today...nearly a full week after I gave the artwork.
Seeing the artwork caused his friends to become interested in reading and hearing about his story, which means more people are reading what he's writing and giving him critique on the story (which he actively asks for).
Apparently, upon seeing the art, his writer friends got a sudden second wind to pick back up writing they'd abandoned for a few months. Because, I quote, "seeing that someone enjoyed {his} writing enough to take the time to make art of it gave them the motivation that maybe THEY can write something that will inspire someone to also create something." I have accidentally caused a writing frenzy among his writer friends and my silly idea to make art for someone has had a butterfly effect for people who I don't even know.
Uhh...I'm pretty sure there's a moral here but I am tired and have a great deal of emotions about this.
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God I want to be edged for hours until I cry.
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Do you ever think about how in The Naked Time everyone’s hidden personality traits come to the surface, and while we get Sulu being a swashbuckling fencer, Chapel being vain and lovesick, and Riley being a megalomaniac….
Spock is just devastatingly, profoundly sad and self-loathing.
And he admits he hates himself every time he feels love for Jim.
It kills me every time.
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not to demon post but like. sometimes i think about the "friends" label and the fact that it's a little bit of a haha in-joke but also... i mean. when dan said he didnt have a best friend for the first 18 years of his life he meant it yknow. like i do think that out of all the possible labels he's used, soulmates husbands arch enemies furniture who the fuck knows, best friends is amongst the most meaningful... if you never had a best friend and then met him and he stayed in that spot for fifteen years the fact that he's also the love of your life can maybe be just a bit of a bonus.
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A lot of people think my autism is “getting better” but I think a lot of it has to do with being an adult and being able to make my own decisions. I used to have frequent meltdowns and shutdowns and on the outside seemed more “obviously” autistic. But I’m 19 now, so I have a lot more say in my life. I only buy one brand of socks. I only own 2 types of shoes. All of my clothes are the exact same. I only eat what *I* want to eat and think feels safe. I can drive and can choose when to leave for appointments and obligations. If I were still a child and forced to wear socks with seams in the toes or clothes that fit me wrong or foods that trigger my sensory issues or have my routine thrown off by other people, I would have A LOT more issues. But since I’m an adult, I have control over most aspects of my life. I’m not “less autistic” now, I just have more free will and know myself well enough to avoid triggers.
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it mattered because when my brother asked me what if this is the happiest you'll ever be? the best you'll ever get? the thing i felt was fear, not peace. everybody thought you were so perfect for me. even i thought you were "helping me grow". i had to challenge every internal clock. make myself more thoughtful, more kind, more beautiful.
i told my therapist it was good because i like the changes i made and there's something so strong about saying i did that. the problem is that i can like the difference all i want, but i changed for you. something akin to getting your name tattooed, all my progress is stamped with fuck you.
it was the happiest i'd ever been and also the best i'd ever gotten. i would still get in the car and think what the fuck just happened.
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