One Day at a Time. The Good Place. Star Trek: Discovery. San Junipero. The Runaways. Sense8. Legends of Tomorrow. Everything Sucks. The OA. Steven Universe. Orange Is The New Black. Life is Strange. #twentygayteen. We always win, we never lose.
actually the whole world is just a ruse because if you just like listen to a sine wave or something for an hour and slow your breathing a bit you can actually get a peek at what’s really going on behind the veil. there’s no grass there which is sad but the architecture is phenomenal. the temples they build to their higher powers are exquisite and untouched because they don’t have urbex hooligans ruining everything (no youtube either which is a plus). every time i play tears of the kingdom and go to the depths i think about it. devour by lorn is playing from somewhere at all times which is a good thing because it’s a great piece of music. anyways, this place is something out of one of étienne-louis boullée’s wet dreams the way the temples are built. there’s not much to do but wander but as long as u have a good lantern it’s fine. it’s quite melancholy but not in a sad way, just kind of an empty way. but feeling empty isn’t a bad thing because it makes room for creation. oh, to live in a space with discovery instead of confusion and euphoria out of pain.
idk if it’s the mental illness but sharing literally any information feels like oversharing. i’ll be like “i skipped breakfast this morning” and immediately im like “i might as well have told them where i buried the money”
Sometimes I read something so beautifully written that I think, “How could anything I write ever compare?” But isn’t that the point? It’s not about comparisons or being better. It’s about being who you are as a writer. If anything, it inspires me when I find authors in my fandom who I can’t get enough of. Because yeah, I love to share my work. I love the comments and encouragement. But I also love the experience of being completely immersed in someone else’s story. It’s a feeling I can’t even explain.
one of my twitter friends recently said that if she could order up a fic it would be a story written by someone who has only ever read the classics, 1.5 star trek novelizations, and their mother’s romance novels from 1970, written about two people are so out of their minds horny for each other it causes them to make the absolute worst choices anyone’s ever made.
and i almost lost my mind laughing because i do know exactly what she means. there is a weird vibe i can sometimes sense within the first few paragraphs a fic that really bums me out. it’s almost like i can tell the author is thinking way too much about what i’m thinking about their id and it’s suddenly like we’re all suddenly wondering how riding a bicycle works when we’re mid-ride. when you start worrying too much audience interpretation or how a fic is going to do or play or ugh marketability, it genuinely adds some weird self-conscious distance to whatever you’re doing. and it’s the pits from the reader side because it removes so much horniness from your story even if the idea you have is genuinely good! i know this is not a niche complaint–you find it literally everywhere as every sector of the creative internet gets #content-ed and people can’t escape the stats of how any given creative outlet does.
but god there’s literally nothing better than sitting down and reading some freaknasty person’s art where they do not give a single shit if you like it. they had something to say and my god they were gonna say it. i’ve accidentally acquired so many kinks by clicking on a story where someone took me on the most insane ride of my life and i thrilled about it. i don’t wanna read about polite normal regular love. i don’t wanna read about people using therapy-speak on each other. i wanna read about two people feeling the biggest craziest feelings of their entire life and they cannot do anything about it except bang it out. what else are we doing here? if they’re not fucking down an entire house, well jed i don’t even wanna read it.
One of the things that was so good was Leia and the Force, that her way isn’t to have lightning fast reflexes because she sees things a moment before they happen or any kind of physical dexterity, but that her way with the Force is that that girl looks at someone and deadass stares right into their fucking soul.
She nails her cousin to the wall, almost otherworldly when a calm descends over her and she eviscerates him by exposing his desperate desire to have his father like him, that he just repeats what he’s heard without understanding what it means, she saw into that boy’s soul like it was nothing, this little girl is just as fuckoff power in the Force as her brother is.
She does the same with Obi-Wan, she just fucking looks at him and reads him like a book, “You think the less you say, the less you give away, but, really, it’s the opposite.” and she doesn’t seem like a ten year old in that moment and I love how weird the Force makes people in particular moments, that you get used to them being feral chaos gremlins or gentle teachers or the whole gamut of personality types, and then there’s a moment where it’s otherworldly and strange and I love that, but also that Leia’s powers are not like her brothers, her way with the Force is entirely her own and the show was so good at showing that.
The Star Wars Original Trilogy is peak fiction because they took a fairy tale and set it in space, then they gave the princess in distress a GUN. But even better they gave her a sharp tongue and the power of revolution. They made the “dragon” a depressed cyborg father with asthma who doesn’t understand his own emotions and does murders because of it. And they made the knight a blond Barbie boy who attempts to solve problems with the power of love like he’s Sailor Moon or something.
And then they said, “oh yeah they’re all related btw. All the galaxy’s problems are this one family’s fault. Hope this helps 😘”
[ID: a google doc with the italicized text: “orpheus loves eurydice.” “loves” has a blue underline under it, which is signalling that it should be autocorrected to “and.” End ID.]
literally emo over this autocorrect . like it’s right… there’s no need for “orpheus loves eurydice” as a statement. the evidence is already there: orpheus and eurydice
do some fun drugs. read a fuckton of books. watch a fuckton of movies. get a magazine subscription. go to a bookstore. get laid. have a few orgasms. go to the club. buy a new pair of boots. go hiking. go to a movie theater. eat a pastry. have an iced coffee.
sometimes i forget how reading is just. marvelous. just an absolutely fucking endlessly joyful activity. i’ll go about my life and not read one single book for months and be like why am i morose! why am i so apathetic! what is missing here!!!! and try to look for whatever it is that is lacking and never find it anywhere and i get so tired and sad and angry, and then i’m finally like i’m gonna stop everything for a couple days and read a really good book bc i don’t care about anything else. and suddenly i get motivated to work bc i know i’ll read when i’m on break. i get more creative. i want to watercolor again and bust out the shameful fabric stash with all my unfinished sewing projects. god even my dreams get more vivid!! what the fuck! and i’m like here is the magic i was looking for, why did i ever think i was going to find it anywhere else. it was always here!!!
Dear, sweet, Littlefoot, do you remember the way to the Great Valley? I guess so. But why do I have to know if you’re going to be with me? I’ll be with you. Even if you can’t see me. What do you mean I can’t see you? I can always see you.
