#normally I don't acknowledge the movie

[common-or-garden-blog]

click on it, it is small

#chad meme #normally I don't acknowledge the movie #but dreamworks drops fiona #and then they just give us #valka #who looks like every hollywood/animation mom ever #meanwhile #valhallarama #is peak character design #with cap buns #virgin vs chad #httyd books #httyd book fanart #the books are better #valhallarama has the best hair #period #when my hair is long enough #:')

[katiekatdragon27]

More Flatland stuffff~~~

[Cursive transcript: I'm so sorry this is so sudden, but I had to keep my Chosen safe!]

So, uh, the 4th dimension, am I right?????

So, on my last post, people were more interested in A. Tesseract than I thought. I did not expect her to stir so much interest, but here you go lol.

More under the cut lol / lots of notes:

Some basic information on 4th dimensional beings:

They refer to themselves as "hypersolids" and "polytopes". Only Tesseracts prefer a different name than just "hyper(insert shape here)". When talking to other dimensional beings, they call themselves "Spacelanders".

They usually keep their eyes closed, and they do not emote much.

Their bodies naturally morph as they talk. They are also partially transparent, so you can see their inside movements. Not organs or anything, but the next emotions or actions they are going to express. Sort of like key frames or a fade in effect.

They call "Spacelanders" "Heightlanders".

Their civilization is located in space. They are able to breathe through little pockets of air on their rings that recharge when they enter the atmosphere of other plants. (This is why they are spotted relatively frequently)

Buildings are constantly moving spirals. They also fly everywhere, so they require a lot of energy to maintain their health. Luckily, any stars nearby tend to charge them up just fine.

Also, everyone goes by they/them along with another pronoun if they choose. Gender constructs be damned (or certain groups are fighting for that).

There will be more once I think of it, but that's what I have in the world-building department right now.

Some basic information on Angelica "A." Tesseract (she/they):

She tends to say "I'm sorry" after anything they might think could have been of inconvenience or offensive.

They are relatively soft-spoken, but they are incredibly smart compared to her peers.

Her quiet nature causes others to disrespect and step all over her.

She overthinks LITERALLY EVERYTHING. You could tell her something that is even the slightest bit vague and they have the chance of spiraling.

She KNOWS there are more than four dimensions, but they are struggling to prove it with science.

They are much more emotional compared to other hypersolids. They tend to cry easily.

She chose A. Sphere because of his confidence and drive to get his points across. They admire him for that.

Some basic information on A. Sphere in this:

He's much less snarky. His whole vision of the world was destroyed in the blink of an eye, and he's stuck in another world completely unknown to him. He's going though it currently.

He's still blunt about everything. If you suck, he'll tell you. If you are cool, it'll take a little longer, but he'll tell you.

He got his eye busted after the attack on Messiah Inc. When getting removed from "Heightland", his eye got caught in the blow last minute and it got damaged. He can still open it slightly, but he can't see out of it.

He was relatively indifferent to seeing his body transparent. He was more worried about his eye injury over anything else.

At first, he did not like A. Tesseract (cuz kidnapping), but he learns to appreciate the gesture and does his best to help her out.

[Cursive transcript: For now, I'm afraid so... sorry. / I'm so sorry. If I was just a but faster, I could have saved your eye.]

Yeah, their friendship starts out really rough.

A. Sphere adjusted to the environment very poorly at first. He was very standoffish and snappy, but it then soured to just sorta feeling sad all the time. He gets better eventually the more he learns about the world, but it takes a lot of effort out of A. Tesseract to get him there.

I mean, he expected to die, lost his eye, everyone in "Heightland" hates him now, he lost his business and research, and he fails to take the blame for anything for a while. I would also be super pissed and sad.

A. Tesseract was not any better. She feels an incredible amount of guilt for not stepping in in time to prevent A. Sphere's eye damage, and she constantly apologies to him for everything. This sucks for A. Sphere since he finds it super annoying.

[Cursive transcript: N. H.Sphere: You weren't supposed to bring them HERE! / A. Tesseract: I'm sorry, I had to save him- / N. H.Sphere: I should fire you-!]

N. H.Sphere is a mega grouch. He is A. Tesseract's boss who treats her terribly. Discrediting her work, ignoring their research, and just not valuing her opinion cuz women, he is not fun to talk to or just be around in general. No one knows how HR lets him stay in charge, but some theorize that he pays them off or something.

Despite all of the traumatic crap A. Sphere has gone though in this story, he still does not stand for disrespect from anyone. When he learns that A. Tesseract is constantly being pushed around by her bitchy boss, he decides to defend her.

This solidifies their friendship and later science partnership when the story ends. This also makes N. H.Sphere more resentful towards both A. Tesseract an A. Sphere. This leads to A. Tesseract actually getting fired from her job. Thanks A. Sphere.

[Cursive transcript: N. H.Sphere: Why are you so scared? He's fine! / A. Tesseract: It's my un-medicated anxiety!!]

One of the downsides of being in the 4th dimension and living in space is that the gravitational pull is super sporadic with no real patterns. Some areas have super powerful gravity while others have zero. 4th dimension beings have learned to adjust perfectly fine.

The pressure changes and general lack of oxygen negatively impact A. Sphere's body, however, so to help him be okay, he sits in those vacuum boxes that allow for added pressure to be put on him to help even his breathing. He usually isn't put in unless he is fading in and out of consciousness, since he hates the confined space. It freaks out A. Tesseract every time it happens.

Her boss thinks she's stupid for worrying so much and using company tech. A. Tesseract worries more for A. Sphere than keeping her job, so she ignores N. H. Sphere.

[Cursive transcript: Care to see him again?]

Outside of the partial angst and stuff, this dimension is the reason why A. Sphere shows up in A. Square's hallucination.

During A. Square's trauma-induced hallucination, he shows up in the 4th dimension briefly with the Monarch of Pointland. A. Sphere and A. Tesseract take notice, and she offers him the ability to talk to A. Square one last time for closure reasons.

In this version, this scene would be longer, with A. Sphere possibly apologizing for denying the existence of the 4th dimension and not being able to assist A. Square in the way he wanted to. It's more wholesome and conclusive than transactional like in the movie. The other stuff is there too, but having more sentimental moments would be so cool.

----------

I am very sorry how messy these particular doodles are, I was drawing all these super late at night during my shift, so I was not paying much attention to the flow of the images. When the inspo hits, you don't really realize how incohesive they are until you start photographing the images to post lol

Thank you once again for reading this whole thing, and have a wonderful day :)

#once again i apologize for the terrible camera quality #i really hope this is cohesive enough #i got my siblings to and dad to watch flatland #this would be a win if they didn't fall asleep 🙄 #except for one of them but they thought it was too weird #uncultured #stupid ass au i made b/c i can't cope with my favorite character dying like a normal person #anyways im really starting to enjoy a tesseract and the story she can tell #i don't think anyone has made a character that acknowledges that there are multiple dimensions without experiencing the horrors #so i think im original in that aspect lol #if not please tell me so the two can meet and complain about society and geek out about science or something #flatland #flatland 2007 #flatland the movie #a square #a sphere #a tesseract #flatland oc #flatland fan art #katiekatdragon27

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

I will marry the first woman I meet who can quote the entirety of Men in Black (1997) verbatim.

#men in black #men in black 1997 #mib #i don't like acknowledging I'm on the spectrum #but this is autistic behavior #normal people aren't compelled to memorize and act out entire movies from start to finish #i am not normal

[faith--in-the-future]

Louis doesn’t even get acknowledged by critics and you think one of his songs could be nominated for an Oscar?

yeah lol

#i don't think u guys understand how much of it really depends on everything that surrounds an artist/song #and how little it depends on the song itself #if he was part of a song of a really good and popular movie like eeaao he 100% could #but honestly even if he didnt get a nomination even just having his song in a movie or tv show would be really helpful #since his music cant reach people in the other normal ways #ask #anon #and he doesn't get acknowledged by critics bc his team is useless

[inkskinned]

i got rickrolled today but it didn't work because i have adblocker installed, so youtube just told me i violated the terms of service. yesterday i was trying to edit a picture as a joke for my girlfriend, and google made me check a box to prove i'm human because i wasn't "searching normally".

it isn't just that capitalism is killing fun and whimsy, it is that any element of entertainment or joy is being fed upon by this mosquito body, one that will suck you dry at any vulnerability.

do you want to meet new friends in your city? download this app, visit our website, sign up for our email list. pay for this class on making a terrarium, on candlemaking, on cooking. it will be 90 dollars a session. you can go to group fitness, but only under our specific gym membership. solve the puzzle, sign up for our puzzle-of-the-month-club. what is a club if not just a paid opportunity - you are all paying for the same thing, which makes you a community.

but you're like me, i know it - you're careful, you try the library meetings and the stuff at the local school and all of that. the problem is that you kind of want really specific opportunities that used to exist. you are so grateful for libraries and the publicly-funded things: they are, however, an exception - and everything they have, they've fought tooth-and-nail to protect. you read a headline about how in many other states, libraries have virtually nothing left.

do you want to meet up with your friends afterwards? gift your friends the discord app. you can choose to go to a cafe (buy a coffee, at least), a bar (money, alcohol) or you can all stay in and catch a movie (streaming) or you can all stay in bed (rent. don't get me started) and scream (noise complaint. ticket at least).

you want to read a new book, but the book has to have 124 buzzwords from tiktok readers that are, like, weirdly horny. you can purchase this audiobook on audible! your podcast isn't on spotify, it's on its own server, pay for a different site. fuck, at least you're supporting artists you like. the art museum just raised their ticket price. once, they had a temporary exhibit that acknowledged that ~85% of their permanent art galleries were from cis white men, and that they had thousands of works by women (even famous women, like frida! georgia o'keefe!) just rotting in their basement. that exhibit lasted for 3 months and then they put everything away again.

walmart proudly supports this strip of land by the street! here are some flowers with wilting leaves. its employees have to pay out-of-pocket for their uniforms. my friend once got fined by the city because she organized a community pick-up of the riverfront, which was technically private property.

no, you cannot afford to take that dance class, neither can i. by the way - i'm a teacher. i'm absolutely not saying "educators shouldn't be paid fairly." i'm saying that when i taught classes, renting a studio went from 20 bucks an hour to 180 in the span of 6 months. no significant changes to the studio were made, except they now list the place as updated and friendly. the heat still doesn't work in the building. i have literally never seen the landlord who ignores my emails. recently they've been renting it out at night as an "unusual nightclub; a once-in-a-lifetime close-knit party." they spent some of those 180 dollars on LEDs and called it renovating. the high heels they invite in have been ruining the marley.

do you want to experience the old internet? do you want to play flash games or get back the temporary joy of club penguin? you can, you just need to pay for it. i have a weird, neurodivergent obsession with occasionally checking in to watch the downfall and NFT-ification of neopets. if i'm honest with you all - i never got into webkins, my family didn't have the money to buy me a pointless elephant. people forget that "being poor" can mean literally "if i buy you that toy, i can't afford rent."

you and i don't have time to make good food, and we don't have the budget for it. we are not gonna be able to host dinner parties, we're not made of money, kid. do you want some kind of 3rd space? a space that isn't home or work or school? you could try being online, but - what places actually exist for you? tiktok counts as social media because you see other people on it, not because they actually talk to you.

there was a local winter tradition of sledding down the hill at my school. kids would use pizza boxes and jackets and whatever worked, howling and laughing. back in september, they made a big announcement that this time, rules were changing, and everyone must pay 10 dollars to participate. when im not scared shitless, i kind of appreciate the environmental irony - it hasn't gone below 40. so much for snow & joyriding.

i saw a bulletin for a local dogwalking group and, nervous about making a good first impression, showed up early. the first guy there grimaced at me. "sorry," he said. "there's a 30-dollar buy-in fee." i thought he was joking. wait. for what? the group doesn't offer anything except friendship and people with whom to walk around the city.

he didn't know the answer. just shrugged at me. "you know," he said. "these days, everything costs money."

#spilled ink #warm up #“why did u tag it warm up” bc i wrote it off the cuff while drinkin coffee lol #btw the 30 dollar buy in for the dog walking is bc they pay the organizer a small pittance so she can #run fb ads and stuff and like she does put in a lot of work i don't mind paying her #but that's exactly what im fucking talking about like. #ppl can't afford to volunteer their time anymore and we all understand it!!! everything costs money for everyone! #like we didn't have to use to say ''do you mind paying me back for the stuff we ate'' #we used to be able to afford to feed our friends once in a while!!!

[tearlessrain]

please help me- i used to be pretty smart but i’m having so much trouble grasping the concept of diegetic vs non-diegetic bdsm!

gfkjldghfd okay first of all I'm sorry for the confusion, if you're not finding anything on the phrase it's because I made it up and absolutely nobody but me ever uses it, but I haven't found a better way to express what I'm trying to say so I keep using it. but now you've given me an excuse to ramble on about some shit that is only relevant to me and my deeply inefficient way of talking and by god I'm going to take it.

SO. the way diegetic and non-diegetic are normally used is to talk about music and sound design in movies/tv shows. in case you aren't familiar with that concept, here's a rundown:

diegetic sound is sound that happens within the world of the movie/show and can be acknowledged by the characters, like a song playing on the stereo during a driving scene, or sung on stage in Phantom of the Opera. it's also most other sounds that happen in a movie, like the sounds of traffic in a city scene, or a thunderclap, or a marching band passing by. or one of the three stock horse sounds they use in every movie with a horse in it even though horses don't really vocalize much in real life, but that's beside the point, the horse is supposed to be actually making that noise within the movie's world and the characters can hear it whinnying.

non-diegetic sound is any sound that doesn't exist in the world of the movie/show and can't be perceived by the characters. this includes things like laugh tracks and most soundtrack music. when Duel of Fates plays in Star Wars during the lightsaber fight for dramatic effect, that's non-diegetic. it exists to the audience, but the characters don't know their fight is being backed by sick ass music and, sadly, can't hear it.

the lines can get blurry between the two, you've probably seen the film trope where the clearly non-diegetic music in the title sequence fades out to the same music, now diegetic and playing from the character's car stereo. and then there are things like Phantom of the Opera as mentioned above, where the soundtrack is also part of the plot, but Phantom of the Opera does also have segments of non-diegetic music: the Phantom probably does not have an entire orchestra and some guy with an electric guitar hiding down in his sewer just waiting for someone to break into song, but both of those show up in the songs they sing down there.

now, on to how I apply this to bdsm in fiction.

if I'm referring to diegetic bdsm what I mean is that the bdsm is acknowledged for what it is in-world. the characters themselves are roleplaying whatever scenarios their scenes involve and are operating with knowledge of real life rules/safety practices. if there's cnc depicted, it will be apparent at some point, usually right away, that both characters actually are fully consenting and it's all just a planned scene, and you'll often see on-screen negotiation and aftercare, and elements of the story may involve the kink community wherever the characters are. Love and Leashes is a great example of this, 50 Shades and Bonding are terrible examples of this, but they all feature characters that know they're doing bdsm and are intentional about it.

if I'm talking about non-diegetic bdsm, I'm referring to a story that portrays certain kinks without the direct acknowledgement that the characters are doing bdsm. this would be something like Captive Prince, or Phantom of the Opera again, or the vast majority of bodice ripper type stories where an innocent woman is kidnapped by a pirate king or something and totally doesn't want to be ravished but then it turns out he's so cool and sexy and good at ravishing that she decides she's into it and becomes his pirate consort or whatever it is that happens at the end of those books. the characters don't know they're playing out a cnc or D/s fantasy, and in-universe it's often straight up noncon or dubcon rather than cnc at all. the thing about entirely non-diegetic bdsm is that it's almost always Problematic™ in some way if you're not willing to meet the story where it's at, but as long as you're not judging it by the standards of diegetic bdsm, it's just providing the reader the same thing that a partner in a scene would: the illusion of whatever risk or taboo floats your boat, sometimes to extremes that can't be replicated in real life due to safety, practicality, physics, the law, vampires not being real, etc. it's consensual by default because it's already pretend; the characters are vehicles for the story and not actually people who can be hurt, and the reader chose to pick up the book and is aware that nothing in it is real, so it's all good.

this difference is where people tend to get hung up in the discourse, from what I've observed. which is why I started using this phrasing, because I think it's very crucial to be able to differentiate which one you're talking about if you try to have a conversation with someone about the portrayal of bdsm in media. it would also, frankly, be useful for tagging, because sometimes when you're in the mood for non-diegetic bodice ripper shit you'd call the police over in real life, it can get really annoying to read paragraphs of negotiation and check-ins that break the illusion of the scene and so on, and the opposite can be jarring too.

it's very possible to blur these together the same way Phantom of the Opera blurs its diegetic and non-diegetic music as well. this leaves you even more open to being misunderstood by people reading in bad faith, but it can also be really fun to play with. @not-poignant writes fantastic fanfic, novels, and original serials on ao3 that pull this off really well, if you're okay with some dark shit in your fiction I would highly recommend their work. some of it does get really fucking dark in places though, just like. be advised. read the tags and all that.

but yeah, spontaneous writer plug aside, that's what I mean.

#I found their original stuff while I was researching various waterhorses and their folklore for no reason #because one of the characters in their original work happens to be an each uisge #and then it turned out it ALSO included a lot of figures from welsh folklore in general #so yknow if you happen to have my incredibly specific hyperfixations you'll love it but even if you don't it's great #I didn't mean to bring up phantom of the opera so much it just happens to be very relevant to a lot of my talking points #I haven't actually seen it in years

[bayulet]

ahhhhh

#i just realized something #bad #just not good at all #turns out #i'm the one with the problem! #idk what to do with this realization #and it hurts bc she really doesn't deserve this #why am i like this? #i remember that quote from that movie but ahahhaha idk it just hit me at this moment #why can't i just enjoy things normally #always having to deal with this.. #this fucking thing #it's always one deviation after the other #and i want to change so badly #but i just can't understand why #why did i turn out like this? #am i just incapable of being... that? #the worst part is that she IS important to me! #but #that thing #i don't even know what to call it #actually i do know #but i don't want to acknowledge it #because it's just so fucked up #i dont even know #i hate my brain #not really but #see that's one of the things i was fucking talking about #never mind #4/30/24

[chloeseyeliner]

and here i thought miscommunication trope was never going to happen irl again and stay in fanfiction forever.

i was so wrong.

#like girl i am twenty by 2.5-3 days. i cannot keep doing this middle school stuff. i am sorry. #vent post #kind of?? #haven't made one of these in a while #oversharing on the internet #once again #anyway #long story short #we were almost great friends exactly a week ago okay? #and then nothing happened #and she just. stopped acknowledging my presence???? #like i am not playing the victim here i have made many mistakes in the past but as i am growing up i realise how wrong i was #and put effort in being better every day #and like everyone who knows me that well irl knows i am a very sincere person so i would never hide it if i actually hurt her here #i just. it's been such a long time since a person won't even talk to me??? while i am standing next to them??? out of freaking nowhere??? #while i am trying to communicate??? #like i won't speak with any details but the only words she has uttered directly at me these past seven days were 'bye' with her back- #-facing me today. #and i tried. i really tried. i am tired. #i'll give it another week because i cannot think clearly with all the anxiety surrounding the situation + sciatica (yes i know how?) #my best friend got really mad ngl lol #so i am just venting here because she is the calmest person i know and she was ready to put troy on fire when i told here everything lol- #i don't even know #i mean. we literally study human psychology inter alia at uni girl. please. #and what makes me the saddest is how our other friend is sad regarding the whole situation and she is trying for them both- #-while not knowing what the fuck is going on- not that i do but you know. #and it's all so sad. #*sighs* #i'd rather have her screaming at me if i did something wrong than completely ignoring me and behaving normally around everyone else... #last week we were literally talking of going to the kyoshi movie together. the 2025 MOVIE. i'm shattered.

[nutelloona]

some nights I really wish my front door wasn't so fucking loud to open/close bc as much as I feel trapped and suffocated in my room on night like these, - and in my house in general, tiny apartments and all that crap that capitalism keeps blessing us with - dealing with questions or concern from my siblings is one of the most unbearable consequences I can picture

#I just know I won't be able to sleep tonight #as I also know that driving around the city wouldn't actually make anything better #there's the gas prices and the general street violence that also make those night drivings not as relaxing as they should be #but even if ignore all of that for a moment #I know damn well where would I end up driving to #bc my fanfic writer driven brain can't have normal coping mechanisms or develop reasonable ways to deal with conflict #every fucking problem I have has a dramatic ass speech ready for it with entire scenes and contexts that fuel the drama even more #no one deals with shit like that this ain't the final 20 minutes of a coming of age movie #my shit won't go away after a long emotional confession of mistakes and full on vulnerability #bc the person I'd make listen to it wasn't written by me and their reaction wouldn't be anything close from what I'd expect to hear #what I'd want to hear #tbh at this point I'm not even sure what I wanna hear from her #maybe I just want to hear ANYTHING from her that isn't this deafening silence that she decided it was enough to show how she felt #maybe I just don't wanna feel like I'm a huge joke for going through all of this by myself while she has no idea of any of this #there's just too much that I don't know where to put bc it should all go to her #I feel like I already did everything I could to make her acknowledge my feelings my hopes my needs my mistakes my whole fucking existence #but she chose to walk as far away as possible at the sight of all of that #I could type until my fingers bleed and shout until my throat exploded in flames but she still wouldn't listen #I wasn't even worth a reaction to her and it kills me every single day #there's no point in any of this rant and I know that #but it's all I have left #this is it

[witchywitchy]

I wanted to share something personal because I don't think a lot of you understand the influence of the West and its atrocities on an Arab child's upbringing. English is not my first language; I learnt it initially due to my interest in the language and Western cultures. However, seeing the true face of the West motivated me to continue learning the language to dismantle the false image of Arabs and Muslims which was portrayed by the West. I also talk about how this impacted my standing with the Palestinian cause. Bear with me as this post is long and a little messy, but I need to try and give everyone a clear and full image as much as I can.

I grew up consuming Western media due to my fascination with the English language. However I noticed the lack of Muslim and Arab representation.

When I started seeing representation later on, it was mostly Arabs and Muslims being depicted as 'terrorists' and 'barbarics'.

When a Muslim woman is depicted, she is depicted as 'oppressed' and in need of 'saving'.

I was on social media starting from a very young age. Seeing people online describe my people as 'terrorists' was not only scary, but also confusing. Why am I as an Arab Muslim child -who's living a normal childhood as everyone else- being labelled as a 'terrorist' by the West? Why are people claiming all Arab and Muslim children are trained to use guns by ISIS or/and Hamas? I remember asking my parents as a kid "Is this a real gun with the police officer?" Because I only saw weapons in movies.

I asked questions such as "Why do they think Arabs = Muslims?" The lack of acknowledgment of Christian and Jewish Arabs and non-Arab Muslims confused me.

Why were Muslim women always 'oppressed' in these movies and TV shows I saw? This is not as common as they make it seem. Why are they using the struggle of some Muslim women to demonize an entire religion? Why are they pretending to be saviours when they're actually contributing to further oppression of Muslim women? Why are they weaponizing the awful struggle of some Muslim women against the vast majority of Muslim women? (White feminism is not saving us. It's actually a form of oppression of Muslim women)

Misrepresentation bothered me and made me angry and disappointed. I couldn't finish watching a movie or an episode of a TV show if I saw any mentions of Muslims or/and Arabs, because I knew what would happen next.

When it comes to the Palestinian cause, every Arab grew up watching endless footage of Palestinians being brutally murdered LIVE. Everything and all the footage all of you are surprised to see during this genocide, were a part of our upbringing.

When I was a kid I stumbled upon a newspaper in the house with a headline about a Palestinian father who returned to his house and found all his children shot. And I remember the image very well. The father was holding a prayer mat with people holding him as he broke down on his knees. His dead children were on the floor next to each other. Seeing this image of children my age murdered by the Israeli occupation shocked me. I remember my parents having to hide the newspaper from me because of the impact this image had on me.

I had to start reading into politics at a young age, and I realized that everything that Western media was trying to portray about the West being 'civilized' was a lie. How can you be civilized if you're a murderer or/and contribute to the murder of the innocent?

When I learnt about the history of imperialism, colonialism, slavery,...etc. growing up, I recognized the pattern that colonialists use and I saw that the colonizers of yesterday, are the same as today, except Western media is doing a great job covering for them nowadays, and a lot of people only started noticing that recently.

The West seemed fascinating to me as a child, but after seeing the horrendous false images that're being portrayed of my people in the West, all of my fascination turned into anger and motivation to fight against it.

The real terrorists in the world are not the brown and bearded men, veiled women, or the innocent children. The real terrorists are the ones who set the stage for the murder of innocent people, the exploitation of their resources, using propaganda and painting an image of the innocent that cannot be more false and racist, and the fascists that put on a 'civilized' mask.

I will forever stand with my Palestinian brothers and sisters. I will forever defend my Arab and Muslim brothers and sisters, and I won't give room to any misrepresentation. Enough is enough.

Edit: I wanted to add that growing up, I was scared of telling people about where I'm from, my religion, and what language I speak due to the microaggression and discrimination I was subjected to. Not to mention the amount of times I saw on the news Arabs or/and Muslims getting killed in Western countries (aka hate crimes).

#free palestine #palestine #gaza #from the river to the sea palestine will be free #signal boost #social justice #palestine resources #colonialism #imperialism #jerusalem #the west bank #Arabs #Arabian #Muslim #Islam #tel aviv #yemen #hamas #us politics #apartheid

[hyuckieberry]

I want to assume that ppl celebrating the verdict of That court case are just uninformed and don't just plain old hate women but man... I feel like if u know enough to know who won how do u not also know that both courts found that he literally Did abuse her and what kind of fucked up precedent this sets for any other female abuse victims who try to speak up about it?? Also I'm going to be honest here I thought we all knew by now that anytime the far right is shitting their pants with excitement over something it's probably NOT a good thing like that alone should have tipped people off

#I know that she is far from a perfect victim and she has also done shitty things but my god she IS a victim #this loss for her is a loss for ALL women who are victims whether you like it or not whether you like her or not #I don't care if you love that man's movies if they raised you it is a literal fact that he abused his wife #now we have a PRECEDENT for it literally being defamation for women to tell their stories and speak up about being abused #DO YOU GET HOW FUCKED UP THAT IS #like she didn't even NAME him in that piece #if you are worried about roe v wade (which everyone should be) then you should be worried about this too!! #men in power are systematically stripping women of their rights and people are CELEBRATING this??? #anyway this was prompted by me seeing someone I follow on here celebrating the verdict which RATTLED me because they seemed normal #ofc we need to support male victims too but this was not a situation of supporting a male victim this was about oppressing women #there's nuance to every situation obviously but this one had an unquestionably unfavorable outcome for every woman who has or may be abused #also just the amount of pure hatred and vitriol that has been directed towards her is actually insane considering she's the victim #that man's press team really brainwashed ppl who love his movies into thinking hes their friend from TV not an abuser (Which Is What He Is) #even if you dont like either of them and didn't think either of them should win this outcome still should bother you because that man WON #he got free publicity public opinion on his side again and mass hate for the woman who he abused and then dared to speak up about it #+ the court literally acknowledging that he DID ABUSE her & somehow still ruling that it was defamation for her to write about it

[justepilepsy]

The reason I am harping in on spiderverse so much is because it is otherwise a really good film and story and premise.

People are not wrong for enjoying it. I don't want people to stop enjoying it. But I want them to acknowledge that it's not normal for many even non neurodiverse people to leave the cinema with a headache. You don't need epilepsy to have a photosensitive seizure.

There is a lot of great art and great ideas in this movie beyond the rapid Glitch effects, highly contrasting bright colors on large screen areas, pulsing lights and patterns etc

The film goes on to inspire other main stream and indie animation projects to take after its visuals

But if a large part of those inspiring visuals is inaccessible then I am just worried this inaccessibility will invade media that has otherwise been safe for me or others to consume.

Spiderverse is a trend setting piece of art but the execution and apparently exploitative work environment has lead to the film being a real safety hazard.

Looking at the discourse and responses I keep seeing to the photosensitivity posts surrounding it, I worry that more than just the viewers , but also many great artists may think the bright flashing dangerous lights and colors are the reason the art is good, rather than creative scene transitions or fantastic character design and the excellent blending of various frame rates.

And if strobe lights and all these effects are realy what gets you hyped and pumped for any type of art. Then that is okay too. I suppose there is an audience for everything.

But it would still be nice if there was a safe viewing option for people to whom these things are genuinely dangerous.

I want to be wrong about strobes and the dangerous art direction decisions of spiderverse spreading. But I have not yet reason to think otherwise.

#actually epileptic #epilepsy #photosensitivity #seizureverse #itsv #atsv #spiderverse #i can like the heavy metal movie and still think that some tropes and themes are rather yikes #i can enjoy media and still adress the issues with it

[powderblueblood]

Ooooh lacy falls asleep watching a movie with eddie and he hears her having a sex dream

an: LMAO I LOVE THIS SO MUCH!!!! alright MINORS DNI i have no problem sending swarms of bees to your houses and also warning for somnophilia (kinda) and hands free ejaculation

first of all, who the hell falls asleep during the warriors?!

the gramercy riffs have just dedicated 'nowhere to run' by arnold mcculler to the warriors and shit is about to go down and your head is bobbing forward on eddie's worn-out couch.

he rolls his eyes at you-- really? "hey." a finger jabs at your knee from the opposite sagging end of the couch. "wakey-wakey. it's just about to get good over here."

"mm-- i'm awake!" you jump, but your eyes barely flicker back open, lashes all heavy and voice all loopy.

"tough day at the office?"

"you would not believe." he watches you struggle to muffle a yawn and pinch your cheeks to liven yourself up. "christmas returns. you remember all those old men that kept coming in and buying copies of the joy of sex?"

eddie guffaws lightly. "uh-huh."

"well, today i met their wives."

eddie mouths a little 'oh no!' and you chorus back 'oh yeah!' and even then, with your cheek shoved against the heel of your hand, he can see you're struggling for consciousness.

"lie down," he tells you. your brow furrows, because you're always more stubborn than tired.

"but the movie--" "fuck the movie. well, no, it's a great movie but just-- take a load off."

you sit up a touch straighter and eddie's about to give you shit about always being such a little pushback. but then you decide, "okay. just for a sec."

what he doesn't expect is for your head to land in his lap.

i mean, couches, opposite ends, you could have cozied yourself up against the slouching arm, but no. you decided to stretch yourself forward and settle with your head basically in his crotch. facing the ceiling. facing him.

eddie's breath shallows as you look up at him, your expression the closest thing to peaceful he's maybe ever seen you. you don't even have that little hitch between your eyebrows you sport like a uniform. looks like that night in his trailer, when he hid you away in his bedroom, which-- look, memory lane is not on the agenda for tonight.

"do me a favor?" you say, and your voice is this cracked little purr.

your hand blindly tugs at his, resting it on the crown of your head. oh. right. that hair petting thing. that thing he gets you to do when you're not being such a pill or he's worn you out from being such a pill. you're so nice with your fingers, see, pressing them against his scalp in a way that makes his whole body shiver. scratching a little sometimes-- a little too harsh sometimes, which makes him cringe away. but not because it hurts. because it... does other things.

eddie sighs, like it's really putting him out, like you do, and slides his fingers into your hair. but that's nothing compared to the sigh you let out.

fuck you. how can one little puff of air make him want to flip you over and mount you?

but he's trying to be normal about this-- he's trying so hard, because you're friends, right?

he doesn't think before he says it. "that feel good?"

"mm-hm," you mumble, hand sliding across your stomach, tucking under your breasts, getting comfortable. "mm-hm... careful of your rings, though."

"i'll be... i'll be careful."

"thanks, eddie." your fingers rise to brush against his tummy, some physical acknowledgement of gratitude that he's sure you mean as like, a nudge on the shoulder or a slap on the back or a high five or a fist bump but it sure as fuck doesn't feel like that.

especially when your fingers stay there, suspended in position as you've fallen asleep almost instantly. like stick a fork in you, you're done.

which is a relief. because less movement from you means less focus on you, which means eddie can pretend to watch the movie and pray away the halfsie that is nestled at the back of your skull.

problem is, you're awfully hard to stop looking at.

as your breathing deepens, his fingers slow and he just... watches you. the ascent and descent of your chest. the soft flicker behind your eyelids. the way your mouth parts ever-so-slightly. you're exhausted, but you're relaxed and he-- alright, fucking shoot him, he feels a little responsible for that? a little proud, okay? you're never relaxed. you're so high strung and sharp, but the edges of that seem to dull around him a touch. especially on nights like these.

eddie finally deludes himself into chilling out enough to tune back into the warriors, and then you make a sound.

it's a soft one, but enough to pucker your lips out of shape.

"ohmm."

eddie freezes, jaw winching. your fingers flick involuntarily against his stomach-- a twitch. a very dangerous twitch.

you make another noise and fuck him, if it doesn't sound like the first delicious note of a whimper. oh god.

and his fingers are still tangled in your hair. ruffling a little, breathing out heavily through his nose, he goes, "lace-- lacy," but it's zero response from you. just a hitch in those eyebrows.

and so lazily, so feline, he feels you sleepily nudge into his touch. if he didn't know any better (he doesn't, for the record, he's never known anything in his life other than this moment, if you really want to know), he'd think that was a sign to... keep going.

digits move against your scalp and he watches, unblinking, as your lips part. a sigh flies out, and not the kind you make when you're fed up with him, not the kind you make when you get a less-than-perfect grade or snag your tights or have a headache... not that kind.

different. sweet. the way he though you might sound, once all those defenses were smashed down. how much is it to rent a bulldozer.

his dumbass, age-old pajama pants are tightening by the second and they don't hide a fuckin' thing. how are you not feeling this.

well, whether you are or you aren't, he's still moving his fingers through your hair and you seem to like that and he's so, so happy, like he's so, so stoked but-- watching the breath hitch in your chest, watching the way your tits kind of slope out of the neckline of your shirt, watching goosebumps flash across your skin.

jesus christ, he can see your nipples through that thin little top you're wearing. tight and pointed, an illusion through the slinky cotton and binding of your bra.

eddie's teeth tighten into his bottom lip, his free hand gripping the back of the couch. this symphony of quiet, broken sounds coming out of you is a full extended play in and of itself, and he wants you on repeat. forever.

your hips lift the tiniest fraction. your fingers, still curled up by his belly, stretch and catch at his t-shirt.

"oh, fuck," eddie breathes, hoping he's quiet enough.

he's doing everything, and he means everything, not to move his hips even one iota even though his cock is crying out-- crying out for you, for your hands, for your mouth, for the crook of your fucking arm, anything so long as it's you.

"mmnm," you mumble, completely unaware, thighs rubbing off one another.

aching. dashing a wet spot right under your pretty, brilliant, terrifying, pretty head.

oh, fucking wake up-- feel me-- but don't, because what if the illusion shatters, what if the bubble bursts, what if you see him for the filthy fucking pervert that he is, getting off on watching you sleep. stroking your hair, making you make those noises-- the fucking sounds coming from those pouted, pillowy lips of yours.

he throbs, and your other hand jerks up to your chest, and his thumb strokes the right side of your skull and you moan. full-bodied. almost real.

it's so dangerous. he wants to turn you over and plunge his cock past your smartass mouth and weaken immediately because you're you and he's him and he will end up begging you to let him gloss your lips with his cum.

too much! way too much! eddie has to bite down on the shoulder of his own shirt as his body tenses, his balls tighten, his vision blacks out--

his eyes squeeze shut, hand freezing on your head. moisture spreads like guilt across his conscience.

fuck. fuck. fuckfuckfuck!

eddie's eyes snap open and he doesn't waste a second of time. he grabs you by the shoulders and shoves you up and away from him.

"wmwhatthefuck--" "--gotta piss. move."

but he sorely underestimates just how dizzy he's going to be when he stands up. he stumbles to the bathroom like keith richards getting off a ride at six flags.

"eddie?" you huskily mumble after him, and he's like, ready to kill you. ready to kill you. ready to give you a home lobotomy so you never say his name all needy and crackly and lovely like that ever again.

when he eventually slinks back, different pants on this time, you give them a pointed look. you're all criss-cross applesauce on the couch and he, like, fucking hates you and wants to carry you to his bedroom bridal style and tear off your panties in a single mouthful.

"costume change?" you ask.

"you snore like a coal miner, you know that?"

eddie's never wanted to fuck a coal miner before.

#powder room talk #deadlynightshade-and-hyacinth #hai brainrot #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #so anyway i'm gonna eat some soup #l. doevski by powder

[starry-bi-sky]

Clone^2 Damian

If you really think about, Damian's situation in the clone^2 au is... kinda tragic? Especially in the early months of his arrival. Like,,, think about it. Damian has always known he was a clone of Damian Wayne, that he was a copy of the blood son. There was nothing 'original' about him, not even his name (of which at least Danny has that). He was just... a replacement. A disposable one, to boot.

And he knew that, to an extent, by the time he was six years old. he might not have been actively acknowledging it -- he's six years old -- but deep down he knew. And like, he's six years old. Every small child craves the love and affection of an adult, especially their parents, and even though he knew he was clone, I imagine he still considered - and still does consider, somewhat - Talia and Bruce as his mother and father. And I really doubt he was... getting it?

Now, I know Talia loves Damian, her son. At least in some interpretations she does, and in this au she does. But... a clone of her son? I'm not so certain if she would have the same affection for baby Dames as she would for Damian. I don't think she would treat him badly, but I don't think Talia would treat him warmly either. Kinda just, distant. Colder than she would have been with OG Damian.

And, I know I've mentioned Damian's arrival from Danny's point of view, and its kind of comical kind of insane from his perspective -- a little boy clone of Damian Wayne falls through a portal and immediately attacks him. That sounds like a bad joke.

But, if you think of this from Damian's point of view? It's like he just got dropped into a scary movie. Like, think about it. You're six years old, and suddenly a portal, as green and as swirling as your grandfather's pools, opens up beneath your feet and sucks you through.

After an intense bout of vertigo, you end up in a massive, urban city -- completely different from the rural mountain palace that you lived in for the last six years of your life, and in this city, you don't know any of the language. You don't know what anyone is saying, you can't read any of the signs - you are completely stranded, away from home.

And then, to make things worse, you're facing a figure with a terrifying mask and eyes as burning green as the portal you fell through. Of course Damian's first instinct, six years old, is to attack. He's terrified.

And this figure, he's not a good fighter, but he's fast, and he dodges you quickly. He grabs your sword with his hands, and tries to restrain you, saying something in a language you don't know. Naturally, Damian is just scared. He's six! He'd just be learning how to read if he was normal child going to school.

This figure halfway through the fight yanks off his mask -- he realizes you're scared -- and looking at you now, is a youthful version of your father. This is a clone of your dad, someone you have never met but, six years old, still wants to. Damian gets defensive. This is an imposter.

But this imposter eventually gets you home with him - and he's using his little box, his phone, to communicate with you through a mechanical voice speaking in arabic. and it's frustrating. The boy, the imposter, can say whatever to you just fine, but trying to talk back is a hassle and a half. He's six, he doesn't have that much patience.

He wants to go home.

And so he keeps trying to run away. He keeps trying to find out of this hellish concrete jungle, and he keeps getting lost. It's loud, and busy, and there are people talking to you and you don't understand them, and there are rules and signs you don't understand - Damian tries to cross the street and nearly gets hit by a car. He doesn't know how the road signs work, he was never taught. They didn't get to that.

And he gets lost. And it gets dark, and Damian is brave, but he is six, and this is the worst stress he's been under in all his six years of life. He wants, desperately more than anything, to go home. Why wouldn't he? The only stable... semi-stable environment he was in just got ripped out from under his feet, literally! He wants his mother.

And it's not happening.

But there's something good to be said, at least. The imposter that looks like his father always comes and finds him, no matter what. He could have left that morning, and he will find Damian at midnight, frazzled and worried, and carrying an extra jacket with him because it is cold in Amity Park and Damian is six years old.

And sometimes Damian attacks him - he's scared and stressed and he doesn't want to be here. And every time he catches the sword. Even though Damian can see it cut into his hand and pearls of blood well up and stains his fingers. Even though Damian can see him wince in pain and bite his lip, he still catches it.

But with that little box, he coaxes Damian to come back with him. It's cold, it's dark, Amity Park is unsafe at night. They can figure something out tomorrow, please. And every time, he agrees, reluctantly. And the imposter takes the extra jacket he brought with -- a flannel, a hoodie, a jacket -- and he wraps it around him. It's warm, Damian's clothes are not that thick, and even though he thinks he might hate this imposter, he still sticks close to his legs as he leads him down the street.

And sometimes the imposter carries him, because Damian's shoes are not that thick, and he cuts his foot on broken glass while they're walking home. The imposter sits in the bathroom with him and carefully cleans the cut out, and makes sure it doesn't get infected.

There's hope you know, he still has it. His mother will be looking for him. She'll be worried. He's important to them. Damian may not be the original, but he is still a blood son. He is still her son. She will come find him. This nightmare will end soon. He can go home.

And then weeks pass, and nothing. Then months, and nothing. His family is not coming for him, and it hurts. Hurts more than anything. And yet while that happens, the boy he's attacked, and hurt, teaches himself arabic in order to speak to him. He takes Damian out of the house one afternoon and buys him new clothes, or tries to. And then he keeps buying him new clothes. He gives him blankets and gives up his bed to him until they can get him one himself, and steadily he teaches Damian english.

This boy is kind. Kinder than Damian's ever experienced, and he doesn't know what to do with it. He's devastated by the fact that he is not as important to his family as his family is to him. What do you do when you're six years old and you learn something like that? When a random stranger who looks like your father is kinder to you, and cares more about you than your family did?

And then Damian tells him he's a clone. He's Damian Wayne's clone, and he tells him his purpose - that their grandfather made him to kill him. And the boy, the imposter, Damian thinks he probably already knows that he's a clone. But he doesn't say that. He just nods, and asks him if he wants to tell his original about him.

Damian says no. He doesn't want to. He's tired of living in the shadow of his original. He wants to keep this to himself. This is his. For once, all of this is his.

And to his surprise, the imposter doesn't try and convince him otherwise. He just nods, and says okay. And when Damian asks why, the imposter - his brother - looks at him and says.

"I don't care about Damian Wayne. I care about you." And in Damian's gobsmacked silence, his brother continues. He tells him that if Damian doesn't want to tell his original that he exists, then they don't need to. They don't need to worry about the LoA going after him, because clearly if his 'grandfather' needs to make a clone of Damian in order to take him out, then whatever it was that Damian Wayne was doing to keep himself safe, was working.

"Wayne already has people in his corner, he's got Gotham's army of vigilantes to keep himself safe." his brother says with his eyes as blue as moonlight. "You, however. Do not." And he continues, and says that if Damian Wayne has the same training as Damian does, then he will be fine. He doesn't need to be aware of his clone. Because if DW doesn't know about Damian, then the LoA doesn't either.

And here's the thing. Damian would not have survived in the LoA for long. Not as a clone. No matter what, he was going to die no matter what he did, and sooner rather than later. The sword of Damocles was always hanging above his head in the League of Assassins.

That portal, and meeting Danny, saved his life. There's no way around it. And to an extent Damian knows this even at six years old. He may not be aware that he would've died, but he knows that meeting Danny was the best thing to happen to him.

It's no wonder after that, that Damian is as clingy to Danny as he is. Danny is the first person he's met to offer him unconditional love, with no strings attached, only pure affection.

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpdc #dpxdc crossover #clone^2 #like god can you imagine how scared he must've been? how afraid? he just wants his mom - only to realize he doesnt even matter to her #dpxdc au #danny fenton is not the ghost king #this poor kid man. no wonder he latched onto danny the moment he gave up on the league like a leech. he's a six year old kid man and #it doesnt matter how smart he is or how mature he acts. he still is six years old. he still needs that validation and affection from adults #or from people older than him. and his emotional needs were just not being met in the league. #cue the song “two” from sleeping at last - some of their songs are very clone^2 honestly. #'sweetheart you look a little tired. when did you last eat? come in and make yourself right at home. stay as long as you need.' #'tell me is something wrong? if something's wrong you can count on me' #'its okay if you can't find the words. let me take your coat and this weight off of your shoulders' #'like a force to be reckoned with. am i the ocean or a gentle kiss. i will love you with every single thing i have' #'like a tidal wave i'll make a mess. or calm waters if that serves you best' #'i will love you without any strings attached' #like just. just *imagine* being in damian's shoes during all of this. he's *six* you guys. i've worked with six year olds and they're #pretty independent but they're still six. they get excited when they see their parents and they get upset when an adult is angry with them. #they're still developing their motor skills. they're still developing everything else!

[cemeterything]

the more i learn about the mortuary profession the more i'm convinced everyone else is weird about people who work with the dead and i'm the normal one. of course i understand why people find corpses and the decay process and the end of life in general upsetting, because being reminded that you and everyone you know will eventually cease to exist and there's nothing you can do about it isn't something you can really take any comfort in, but it's just death? it's just inevitable and the way things are? people who work with the dead aren't creepy horror movie mad scientists cooking up frankensteins and draculas, and they're not immoral sickos even if they do have a fascination with the grotesque and macabre. they're just people providing an important service. a lot of them are very compassionate, passionate, hardworking people who want the best for the memory of the deceased and their loved ones. i genuinely don't understand what's so bad and scary about that, but whenever i bring it up there's always at least a few people who look at me like i'm crazy and call me a creep and make a show of shuddering and backhandedly complimenting my "bravery" and "unique career goals" while laughing as if my genuine interest in death and the dead is all just some inappropriate joke. i swear it's more unsettling how many people are unwilling to even acknowledge death as a natural inevitable part of life than it is to talk about it.

#🐉 #and like. i always get people telling me i need to read more books about it/talk to people/spend one day with a dying person #and ill change my mind. but ive done all those things and i just want to work in the mortuary field even more now? #instructions unclear i am now convinced this is the job for me. oops! #this is really just me thinking out loud/venting but like #i never really noticed just how many people are like. uncomfortable with even talking about death as a concept #until i became interested in mortuary sciences #death

[inkskinned]

no, actually, where is the whimsy?

my ex had a best friend named larry who asked me once: what do you think comes after irony?

we were at the bar where larry worked. it was a quiet night, and he'd hopped over to sit with us on the patron side. i swirled the lemon around my limoncello martini.

earnest positivity, i said, while my ex said, art self-destructs.

i stared at my ex. he stared at me.

his argument was the cinemasins argument: look how bad media is becoming! look at the loopholes and the dumb shit!

it was roughly 2011. galaxy print was still in. at the time, i had a favorite shirt that was a wolf howling at the moon. it got ripped in half in the wash and i honestly still mourn it. i dressed like effie stonem, because everyone did. and irony was the name of the thing. men liked MLP "ironically." the internet liked the kind of crass, "anti-mainstream" vibes of things like fuck romance, touch my butt and buy me pizza. we put cats in sunglasses everywhere, which was because we only liked things in irony.

and media had the same vibe in it: anti-hero white men would be "hard to love" and then storm off the scene. nobody was just earnestly trying to save the world: they were jaded, angry, unoriginal. mad you even asked them to try to help.

my ex ends up not being wrong. cinemasins becomes super popular. a lot of people start viewing media with this lens that is the cruelest, most jaded depiction. it's wrong for your character to have unexplained powers, even if the entire movie is about how strange it is she has unexplained powers - that is still considered a "loophole." characters make thoughtless, panicked choices? loophole. characters are actually kind people, despite hardship? loophole. features a woman doing literally anything without assistance? loophole. movies become hyper-aware of scrutiny, and now irony rules the media.

which means you go to a movie, and the character has to turn to the screen and say "beats me!!" or one of the side characters has to have some kind of quip like "are you seriously telling me that you think this is normal?" because nothing can happen in earnest. like a sitcom laugh track, we now anticipate the fourth-wall break: the moment that the media acknowledges it is telling a story. the media has to apologize for itself, or else someone like my ex rolls their eyes.

but here's the thing: i wasn't wrong either.

the difference might be that i am (and always have been) so soft-hearted that any crack in the light of this world will spear me into the ground. and i was the poet in the relationship. (he thought that was the same thing as being naïve and stupid). i was making things daily. i knew how all of us artists are driven by some strange desire to evolve. he notably liked to critique art, not to create it.

so yes, i've made things that are bitter and angry and even ironic. i've made long, sharp poems with all capital letters, and i've made poems about how the silence stretches out like a song. someone wrote once that we will spend our whole lives just circling the place we grew up. i think it's more that we spend our whole lives trying to remake a home. i think it's that as we age, it becomes less exciting to build the castle on the beach - we become aware of erosion, of windforce. we realize what we really want is to come home to our dog, castle or not.

and while art in the foreground is mired in white male violence and irony, and aggression, and not taking anything seriously - i don't think that's true of all art. i think more and more artists are leaning in to the things we love. the world has changed so much. they have taken so many things from us. the only thing we have left is love. at the bottom of the moving box - all we get is the faint sense that we have to appreciate what little we've got. i can't enjoy this stuff ironically anymore: what room do i have for irony? if it makes me happy, that is an amazing thing. there are so few happy places left for me. i want to be happy because of how leaves shiver beside each other like nestling birds. i want to be happy because of the color pink, and how magenta doesn't exist. i have spent so much of this life suffering, i have earned my right to a gentle ending. if nothing matters, i get to assign meaning to the nothing. i get to create meaning. i am an artist first and foremost, which means creation is my thing.

where is the whimsy? wherever i fucking put it. because if this is my last fucking chance to do any good in this world - i want to do it earnestly. i want to write things that make you happy. that make people feel heard and seen. what comes after irony has to be positivity.

it was close to my 21st birthday. in 7 years, i would end up writing a book about this relationship, which is hopefully coming out somewhere around May 2024. i come back to this bar scene in my memories a lot. i keep thinking of how pale my ex was. the look that crossed his face. how i looked back at him. how for a moment, both of us couldn't recognize the other person. like the gulf between us was a suddenly wide and cavernous thing. like we were alien to each other. he never took my opinion seriously, and he always seemed surprised whenever his manic-pixie-dream-girl ever broke free of the plot. like in the whole time we were together, i wasn't human enough.

this knowledge: where he said nothing comes after, my only instinct was what comes after is love.

#spilled ink #writeblr #this is a real story lol #looking back i liked larry as a person SO much more than my ex hollyyyyy shitttt #compulsory heterosexuality will do you DIRTY #edit to correct effies name my apologies to effie and effies family