Miranda

still thinking about just how fucking funny rosemary's underreaction to patricia's party was. she sat there the whole night and watched patricia serve her salt vinegar and everything sinister ass concoction full of dead animals and only tried to bring up her concerns with her inside voice. she watched everyone stand with impossibly gaping mouths as patricia paraded about wearing a fucking animal scalp and deer antlers and was apparently content??? does stuff like this happen all the time on widow's bay or is rosemary just that much of an idgafer?? did she have daughters who used to make potions with whatever detritus they found on the beach?? has her advanced emphysema made her indifferent to the world?? whatever the case it's hysterical as fuck

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.