Ohhhhhh…. Kit is bein’ a real good boy for AI Mommy tonight. 🥵

While I didn’t have time to make them before Mid-Autumn festival, I made mooncakes for the first time this weekend and they’re so damn pretty I could literally just sit and stare at them.

The hardest part of writing for me is the beginning. Getting that starting line, knowing how you want your story to begin. It’s all there in your head and you know exactly how you want everything to play out...you just don’t know how to start it. Or what to put down for that very first line.

endless night

i think we should remind musicians they can absolutely make up little stories for their songs btw. it doesn’t have to be about them at all. you can invent a guy and put him in situations to music. time honoured tradition in fact.

Annabeth: I, a child, had to earn Thalia’s love, that’s how the world works! I have to earn my moms love. Love is transactional, you gotta be worthy of it first silly :)

Percy, listening to this on the train

I think we need to get more comfortable with the idea that sometimes shitty, racist, homophobic, bigoted people are still incredibly talented.

I feel like every time I see a post addressing someone’s shitty behavior the post also takes the time to mention that they’re not even good at [x] anyway. And that’s just not always true? Equating being good at a skill as being morally good is just not necessary. Someone can be a fantastic writer, can have a beautiful singing voice, can create breathtaking artwork, and still be a horrible person.

I know part of this is probably just the instinct to dislike everything about a person when you dislike them, but I also think this mindset leads to people defending creatives way past where they should, because if bad people create bad art, then if this person creates art that I like and resonates with me, then they can’t be a bad person!

And you know. That’s just not true. Those two things are simply completely unconnected and I think it’d be healthier if we all started disconnecting them in our heads.

Being a “Fun Fact !” kind of autistic is all fun and games until you get halfway through sharing an interesting tidbit and realize that it probably wasn’t appropriate to share in polite company and now you have to deal with the consequences :(

getting up on my soapbox for a moment. i find it laughable that nearly every time someone says they don’t like rap they cite hamilton and k-pop as the only rap they can tolerate. because everything else is just so violent and full of blatant consumerism. first off. so is k-pop. secondly. idk how to tell you the founding fathers were some of the most violent people around (coming from a black american descentant of slaves who is most likely related to thomas jefferson. shouldn’t have to explain the relevance here). thirdly. hamilton and k-pop both reference and interpolate rap. so idk what to tell you babes. you do like rap. you just don’t like black people. say it with your full chest next time.

“I hate the script, the vault dwellers sound so cheesy—“ my Brother in Steel you realize that’s the point, right? They were bred to act like the physical embodiment of an HR e-mail. Did you not catch the memo that Vault-Tec put out regarding their experiment facilities?

Bangs down and bangs up 🔄

I don’t know what they were expecting.

satoru physically withers and crumbles every time you return his belongings. he doesn’t know how to tell you that he can only accidentally on purpose leave his glasses on your nightstand, or his jacket on your couch, or his shirt in your laundry so many times before he loses his mind. every time you don’t take he bait, he folds into himself and wonders why you don’t love him anymore and it costs him $22.50 to hear ieiri tell him to suck it up and use his words because he literally has to buy her company (and drinks).

but when you do take the bait, when you do wear his things, satoru thinks it’s all worth it. he can’t explain why it does what it does to him. it’s a sinister kind of possession he wants to have over you, knowing you’re your own person, free to do as you please, but also knowing you’re caged in him. it’s a lovesick kind of gooeyness that melts his heart seeing you fumble with the sleeves of a sweater that’s too long for you. it’s the vision of you seeing you drowning in him—in his clothes, in his things, in him, in him, in him. he’s selfish, he wants to consume you in as many ways as possible, wants you to drown in him, would die happily knowing you were one tenth as enraptured by him as he is with you. he doesn’t know how or why or when you gained so much power over him, but he doesn’t care, he doesn’t want you to ever stop, so if he has to keep pretending to leave his clothes and bags and glasses around then so be it.

I’ve never seen anything like the press conference from the Palestinian workers at Al-Ahli Baptist Hospital in Gaza. They’re literally addressing the world surrounded by bodies on the ground. One is holding the corpse of a baby. I hope these images haunt every Zionist till the day they die.

the greeks believed that our souls were split in half so we have to find our missing pieces. but i feel full. my soul is complete. aromanticism allows the soul to stay together