can you believe that we have fanfiction. that we have websites dedicated to fanfiction. that there is a place that you can go and read tens, hundreds, thousands and thousands of pieces of writing that strangers have made. people who are not "writers". people who come home at the end of the day and have feelings and say, i am going to put that into words. i am going to share those words. short, long, sweet, sad, horny, funny, wonderful words. we are all just human and we all love to make and remake and share that with others. can you believe that.
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the US is directly bombing syria, iraq (x, x, x, x) and yemen simultaneously tonight (very early hours of 03.02.24) while, of course, continuing to proudly fund israel’s ongoing genocide in ghazzah. they’re saying that this is only the beginning of their operations in iraq and syria. meanwhile, israel is increasingly targeting rafah, having just martyred 11 palestinians there in one airstrike alone. as a reminder, rafah is essentially the southern most area in ghazzah and is where israel told palestinians to flee to, calling it a ‘safe zone’. this is all happening the same day israel announced it is preparing for a ground invasion in rafah. allah reham kare
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Hate (affectionate) how it's made so clear from the very beginning of part 1 just how loved Paul is by his family and household. Both his parents, Duncan, Gurney, Thufir, even Dr Yueh all clearly care so deeply for this kid, and we're shown that time and time again.
Cut to the end of part two, and almost every one of those people is gone. The only ones who remain are a weird, came-back-wrong version of Jessica, and Gurney who has gone from mentor to worshipper. Paul goes from someone deeply loved and valued for who he is by a small but caring group of people - to someone followed and worshipped and feared by thousands. They're obsessed with him in a way, as a leader and "messiah", but nobody loves him.
The only one remaining who loves him for who he is is Chani, who leaves him because in the end that love isn't enough to bring who he is back.
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i taught a baking class for 12 year olds today and we made your garden variety chocolate chip cookies, but i’m a big believer in Questioning Everything and the who/what/where/why/when/how behind things, so the first part of the class was purposely letting the kids do things the wrong way, to show and explain why we do things the way we do.
“why do we bake cookies at 180 for 9 minutes when we could do 400 for 2 minutes?”
-enter the godawful lump of coal with a still gross wet and uncooked inside
“why do we have to scoop out little cookies instead of doing the whole tray?”
-ok well that one you can technically do if the spread is even. you just end up with one giant, structurally unsound cookie.
“PLEASE CAN WE MAKE GIANT COOKIES”
(we did make 1 giant tray cookie)
we talked a lot about why consistency is important, but i don’t think it really hammered home until i said “okay everyone gets ONE cookie, that’s fair, right?” and then handed out cookies of hugely varying sizes. + baked one fat lump of a cookie that still wasn’t done at the 9 minutes, vs the regular one i put in that came out charred by the time the first was actually done.
we also made a row of cookies where each one had one single differing ingredient omitted, like a cookie with no flour, or a cookie with no butter, and laid them all out on a single tray to bake together to see how each ingredient affects the outcome.
two of the little girls added cocoa to their cookie doughs until it matched the colour of each others skin to make best friend cookies, and that almost made me tear up a bit 🥺
got briefly distracted (...for over half an hour...) talking about how eggs form when someone cracked an egg and it had 2 yolks
expertly tolerated being asked how old i am (just turned 31 the other day) which was immediately followed by asking if i watched the moon landing live on tv
was so focused on keeping track of all the kids that in the end i forgot to make a cookie for myself, but it’s ok because one of the girls gave me this
tiny..........
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Yall need to interact with fanfiction author's more.
So. After the ddos attack on ao3.
I was encouraged to write more comments and make my love known to fanfic writers.
I dont really like commenting. Because im a bit shy and soooo lazy.
Now though. I am writing more comments. And dude. This is so heartwarming. Ya'll need to treat writers better. They are doing the lord's work.
Take for an example, couple of days prior, i was searching for something interesting to read, and found an oneshot quite compelling.
I read it. At the end of it, i was blown away by how good it was. It promised me something and it went beyond my expectations. But then i saw a crime, zero fucking comments!
At that moment, i wasn't feeling up to writing a comment. Because, normally i like to write huge paragraphs. But because im lazy i decided to be brief.
Next day, the author answered that the comment lift their mood for the whole day.
That warmed my heart.
Duuuuuuuude! Write comments! Suport the writers of the fics you like! No need to be something super elaborate. Just give your thoughts. Freak out. Ramble. Ask something. Make theories. Compliment. Make a joke about how you wished to give kudos every chapter but ao3 sucks(not true bby) and won't let you.
Truly. Just. Comment. It can make someone's day. And that is part of the apeal of writing fics. Interacting with people.
Just give love to fanfic writers yall. They deserve this and so much more.
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Your "non-confrontational" choices not to communicate hurt the people you don't confront btw. You're not a martyr for keeping everything inside and then running away when other people don't know what's going on with you. You just decided avoiding rejection and sparing your own feelings was easier than being honest and giving them the agency to respond and make their own decisions. You chose to hurt them so they didn't hurt you. You think your feelings are realer and more important than their own care and love for you. You were always just waiting for a sign to run.
"If they cared about me they would have–" did you tell them that? Did you let them know how you feel? How much importance you place on those requirements they don't know they have to meet? This secret criteria and secret signs for your secret feelings? Or are you making them play a game they don't know even exists?
Your choice not to communicate isn't cute. You didn't run because they didn't feel the same for you. You ran so you wouldn't have to risk rejection. You chose to prioritise your own self-protection over their trust in and love for you. At least own that.
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HMMMMM bakugou being just. the absolute picture of sin.
he works overnight and comes home early in the morning, around 3 or 4 am or so, and you greet him and give him a kissy and ask how it all went. and even though it's still dark outside and he's been working for twelve hours—he's still coming off patrol, right ? so he's still got some energy left, and he eats something and takes a shower and winds down as you fall back to sleep.
and it's not until much later in the day that he wakes up, early afternoon, and you're kind of tiptoeing around so that he can get his much-needed rest. you slip into the closet of your bedroom for something and you think you're gonna get in and out without a sound, but his hearing is so attuned to just about anything and everything at this point.
so rough and raspy, he grunts out, "what're y'lookin' for?" and you whip around real fast and he's just—
half sitting up in bed, bare back leaning against the headboard. an arm behind his head, so that his bicep is tense and round and stone-solid. stretched like that, his obliques are more prominent, taut and rippling up the side of his ribcage. he must have gotten hot while passed out, as he usually does, because the comforter is all askew; one of his legs is bent, the fine hair a dark gold in the waning day; the other is hanging off the bed, lightly swinging as he watches you, and the blanket has come down enough that you can see the bulge of his thigh muscles beneath his stupid tiny black boxer briefs.
and he's just so. man. in every single way.
(his hair is flat on one side, too, and his eyes are still a little puffy from sleep—but you think that adds to it, all in all)
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