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@lemonswriting
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sore throats might be the stupidest response to illness i've ever experienced. oh you want to eat? drink?? breathe air??? TEN THOUSAND KNIVES ATTACK
reblog if you’ve read fanfictions that are more professional, better written than some actual novels. I’m trying to see something
*sweating, whole body shaking while I stare at a google doc* would he fucking say that????
Yeah sure we’ve all binged a long fic, but have you ever read a WIP and followed someone’s life?
Tidbits of information - (“I graduated today!”) - and small joys (“It’s my birthday!”) and you get to be there to say “This chapter made me cry, happy birthday, thank you for gifting us this”.
I remember reading this fic of someone at the end of high school, older than me then. They seemed infinitely wise, spoke of their future career and getting into the college they wanted. I remember them posting on days they felt like nothing could bring them down - and on days the whole world did and it’s the aftermath of a hospital visit. Cancer, I think it was, their father. I got to the end of the story, I know their father was fine, but also they got to finish their WIP. I graduated three years later than them, still dutifully wrote thank you notes in every comment. I wonder if they remember me, or just the collective of people reading the story as it updates.
Four years ago I was into my first year of university, my first year of figuring out being out in public spaces. I made excuses as to why my name didn’t match my paperwork and read a fic on the train, the same five chapters over and over again for the next years as I thought the story abandoned. It updated this week after such a long hiatus, I left another thank you comment.
There’s an author I love, they update their stories like a clockwork. When they don’t, I check their blog, just to see if their doing alright, not because I feel like they owe me, just to ensure whether I better get out my laptop to write that really detailed university level essay chapter analysis to get them smiling when their day sucked.
And then, once, when I was 17, I read a fic that hadn’t updated in over a decade. I wasn’t even in primary school when it started posting. On the last chapter, I left a comment that, in retrospect, was horribly rambly and most likely full of grammar mistakes. The author replied and though I couldn’t see their face, I thought of them crying. They were married now, had children, and hadn’t thought about this fic in years. They went through their files again, found another half written chapter and an outline. I got two new chapters to read that year.
And then, recently, someone told me they got back into writing original fiction because of my comments. I get to read nearly weekly chapters.
I love binge reading a finished fic, but nothing is ever going to top the feeling of anticipation of waiting for a chapter, the pure joy when someone tells you I was done with this, but you made me think of it again, so this is for you.
Anyway, I think we should romanticize reading WIPs more, growing up alongside the authors writing the stories we love.
people change you and sometimes that is the worst thing in the entire world because you used to like yourself a little more but now you hate the flinch that lives in your shoulderblades and you overthink every moment and you never set a boundary without feeling internally destroyed and it fucking sucks because they shouldn't get to do that, they already ruined your life the once, it shouldn't echo into the future
but also people change you and sometimes that is the softest morning and the best surprise. realizing that you can divide things into perfect thirds without trying because you were a sibling in a group of 3 and always needed to measure out things. you learned to skip rope and step around cracks from the kid down the street. you love the way your favorite english teacher influenced your writing.
you're old enough these days to know your mother was right and you should take a coat just in case it gets cold but you are still too young to have outrun the thunderstorm of your childhood. you arrange your spoons the way you learned growing up but you've since reorganized the rest of your kitchen to make sense to you and the way that you like working. you fold your clothes actually still based on the marie kondo method (you just like the habit of it) but you allow yourself to just-loosely-chuck-some-of-it-in because really who has the fuckin' time for it.
you still can't be in the room while people look at your art (some kind of weird mix of guilt, shame, and embarrassment) but you picked up certain words and phrases from friends that help you slow down and treat yourself a little bit gentle with it. you always take other people's crafts with a reverence like praying, but you can't help that when you see your own work from a few years ago, you mirror someone else's snort of disdain. you saw other people's bodies and freckles and stretch marks and scars and you realized they are all still fucking beautiful to you, almost obscenely so, because they belong to someone you care for so deeply that it blocks out the sun - but you can't help the little flash of self-judgement whenever you pass a mirror; the voice from too-many years of 90's and 00's skinny-means-you've-won.
and it's kind of funny because you meet someone new and while they're making friends with you, you get to see these little stories playing out of them. you meet their mom and you think oh that's where they get the accent and you meet their college roommate and you think that's the same joke you both make and you meet their friend and you think ah so this is explains the oddly vast knowledge of freshwater lakes
and then one day in the mirror you reach your hand up to push back your hair and you think - oh shit, that was them. or you make a comment and you think ah, stole that from someone else. or you stand in the store and get that random flash of they would totally tell me to buy this. and it is like a little strange river to bind you to them - that over all this time and space, their hands guide your hands and your heart in silence. it is good and it is bad and is so precious and so horrible. it is both proof of love on this earth and it is also the thing that is keeping you hurt.
a little promise that is probably true: somewhere out there, your hands are ever-so-often guiding them too.
compiling a list that no one asked for but i think the best bookshops have at least one or all of the following:
teetering piles of books fighting a tenacious war against gravity u need to shimmy past w ur breath held
bookshelves buckling precariously in the middle
books on said bookshelves crammed in at every conceivable angle
tables whose surface hasn't seen the light of day since 1996
threadbare carpets that haven't been changed since 1983
stack of national geographics going back to before you were born
old person at the cash register
👏🏾Education 👏🏾is 👏🏾a 👏🏾right,👏🏾 not👏🏾 a👏🏾 service 👏🏾
Pass along and use the shit out of them
No one should own knowledge, and the pursuit of knowledge should be guarenteed.
👏👏 NO ONE SHOULD OWN KNOWLEDGE AND THE PURSUIT OF KNOWLEDGE SHOULD BE GUARANTEED 👏👏
!!!!!
OK!!
i choose to be deliberately optimistic :—) i choose kindness in the face of toils and troubles & i know that my choice will inspire people to do the same
hello :)
I choose to love you in silence because in silence I find no rejection, and in silence no one owns you but me.
Rumi
I cannot BELIEVE you guys actually signing up to netflix just because account sharing was banned. You need to learn about cool websites with many beautiful women who would love you message you and send you downloadable files.
REMEMBER TO HYDRATE TOO
- tired
I HAVE BEEN DW!!!
(appears in you inbox with sparkles)
how’s your day been :>
- tired
Oh really good!
I just had my first "exam" of the season! I'm in a tutoring course so all I did today was help other students write their exams by providing pencils/calculators/rulers/ect. It was really good, but I sweat alot because of the heat 😭
Then me and my boyfriend went out to lunch and kissed a lot :> very fun, 10/10 experience 👍
We had an awesome picnic yesterday too and I'm really glad he's my boyfriend ❤️ I love him very much.
How about you?
:P
my toxic trait is being fervently convinced that if i ever came across a dragon irl we would make eye contact and understand each other at a primal level of transcendental trust instead of charring me into a crispy onion