I think that if I unsubscribe I should stop getting the emails

still caring about internet friends you lost touch with years ago is so embarrassing. yeah i had a deam we met up irl recently. the last time we spoke was maybe 7-8 years ago. i still wear the laces we randomly decided was a sign of our friendship. i dont know what any of your socials are or if youre even active on any. sometimes i see someones art resemble yours and i wonder for hours. do you still go by that name you chose? whenever i see it i wonder if its you. we couldve passed each other in this vastness a thousand times and not have a clue.

we were lonely kids having fun together. do you remember?

I hate that when you’re stressed enough your body just starts falling apart. I think it should realize you’re already stressed and don’t need that and start functioning better actually

hey, do you mind if i immensly value our relationship, in a way i'll never properly be able to fully verbally communicate

Why is it easier and more comfortable to sit in a position that actively damages my joints than it is to just sit with okay posture. Why does my body crave its own destruction

this fic is so good i hope i write it

The thing is nobody at pride is evaluating you to determine if you’re queer enough to be there because they’re too busy thinking “it’s so hot out” and “why is this lemonade 12 dollars?”

one day it'll happen to you. you will stay up a bit too late playing a video game and not get to bed on time. I've done it before, you'll think. I'll be fine. but no. you will make it through most of the next day and then at about 2pm you will feel like a reanimated corpse whose sim meters are all completely fucked and nothing hurts exactly but everything does feel very bad. and you'll think oh yeah. I'm not twenty anymore

i understand words and phrases. my dialogue is natural and in character. i know where the plot is going. my word count is reasonable. i am not scared of my document

Is that a miette?

Pride for you!  Pride for a thousand years!!

you COME OUT to miette? you come out to her as queer? oh! oh! pride for mother! pride for mother for One Thousand Years!!!!

*points to my oc who’s backstory I wrote* who did that to her

not doomed by the narrative but saved by the narrative. yeah i know you'd rather die than keep suffering but the story doesn't actually care what you want. you have to keep going, even when it hurts. even being erased from existence won't stop you from being salvaged from the wreckage of un-being. get up. keep pushing. keep bleeding. keep living.

the best fanfiction you've ever read was written by a woman in her 40s before she made dinner for her kids. it was written by a teenager after school when they should've been studying for a history test. and a barista came up with the idea while they cleaned the espresso machine and busser fact-checked it on their break and the post-doc edited between writing grant proposals and the nurse apologized for typos in the notes after a long shift and behind every drabble and one-shot and multi-chapter fic there is a person with a wonderful and interesting and chaotic life and it is such a privilege that we get to be apart of it because they decided to do this thing we all share, for fun.

me, quietly whispering to the ao3 page of an author who doesn’t even know I exist: I am obsessed with you

me, whispering to the ao3 page of an author who hasn’t updated anything in four years: I think about you often and I hope you’re alright

me, whispering to the ao3 page of an author who wrote one life altering banger and nothing else: I hope your pillow is cool and your skin is clear and you find money in a forgotten jeans pocket

me, whispering to every single person on this post: please leave one singular comment saying literally any of that