#and week

[obmahhe]

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

AAAAA!!!!

I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, you're so sweet, and I'm always amazed at how easily you read my work, and I LOVE every word you say, you phrase EVERYTHING so beautifully!!!

I'm giving you something fun, just what you really wanted!!!

And some Olivier salad, if you want it.

MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!!<3

[imcrowlessnow]

🍎🍎🍎🧇🥐🍟🍟🥨🍝🥙🍲🍛🍧🍦🍰🍪🍪🍪🍿🍿🍿🍿🍿🍿🧋🧋🧋🧋🧋🧋🧋🧋🍽️🍴🥢🍶🥤

food and snacks for people intensely watching this go down (its me 😁 im very excited)

:D

[babyblankyerror]

If anything else glitches or goes wrong or if I make the tiniest mistake ever thats not even big enough to change a timeline happens then I. Will. Explode.

[hyuckiestarz]

I think I'm in love with you- sorry, I mean I love your works ... have a wonderful day

no no...the first one...finish that sentence

[draigonboother]

It rained today. Outside the window, the rush of cars and wind and people running across streets yelling, the translucent darkness of the night seeping past the sliver of curtains. During the day, the air cold and crisp and gray: rain-slick pavement, rustling trees with darkened bark, wet leaves half-decomposed, mottled, pressed flat against the concrete. Strikingly beautiful, almost startling so. Has it always been this way, the groups of people laughing, their faces flushed with cold, the blooming flowers, the air fresh and languid and clean. Boots with shiny leather. Cold hands. Shoes soaked, hems damp, numb feet. Has it always been this way — the beauty of it all, of this, of everything. Red lights at dusk. Silvery puddles reflecting iridescent fragments of sky. During the day, the windows clear, misted over with raindrops: the pale light, the washed-out buildings, the dark outline of trees. The white sky, sunless. The glutinous wisps of skinny clouds. The sound of rain against glass. On the streets: girls in short leather skirts, their legs long and delicate and bare. Old women in puffy jackets. Children splashing in puddles. Don’t run, you’ll slip. Then: I told you to be careful! Blades of grass, thin, translucent like jade, bent and speckled with dew. Plastic cups of coffee half-drank, stippled with condensation. Labels completely soaked through, grayish with water, soft, the corners half-peeled and bunched into knots. How have I never noticed this before, the dark leaves like lace doilies, the coarse bark, the birds with glossy round eyes. Fluorescent lighting of the subway. Hard plastic seats. People hunched over their phones, screens smeared with fingerprints, jackets blotched with raindrops. Quick tapping fingers. Faces colorless in the light, pallid, some impassive, some laughing: eyes flickering, cheeks bunched up, teeth yellow and bared. Doors open: rush of wind, fading conversation, clouds of perfume. There’s no way he — I swear! Where do you want to get dinner? There’s a new place that just opened up down the street, I’ve always wanted to try —

Inside, hot water, yellow lights, mirror clouded over with steam. Silky soap swirling down the drain. Soft towel. Skin smooth, hot, dry. Clean clothes. Damp hair on cool sheets. Cold, filtered water dripping down my chin. The broad, almost plastic-looking leaves of my house plant, shiny and dark green. Streetlights outside, slightly blurred, softly shining red, orange, yellow. On my tablet: pictures of forests, knotted trees, sprawling fields of moss, everything bluish-green. Quiet, still. Books with thin, inky fonts, the g’s and d’s written just the way I like. Somehow gratifying everything is, this moment, perfect. Poems: tonight he is alive and in the north field with his mother, if the dog were alive he would be drowning, in the spring the rabbits will find it and build their nest inside. The living go on living, and the dead go on living with them. The rain seeps in the cracks, and the trunk falls to the ground, and the moss covers it. Nothing is wasted in nature or in love. Opened windows. Whirring of cars outside. Soon, the lights will be off and blankets will be drawn in and tomorrow will begin. Tomorrow: what it will bring, no one can say for sure. But today was beautiful, it was. It was.

[heartzvhs]

Can Netflix actually make decent shows instead of more shitty stand up specials pls I am actually so sick of this 😭

[capnhanbers]

you know I'm. good god I. man. man. man.

so, this chapter was the first one I've read of joat since starting my own (unrelated) fic, and it really all just straight up came rushing back of just how much your work has inspired me for my own writing. Your long running fic with incredible plot shaping and texture, rewarding foreshadowing, chokehold tight grip on your fascinating characterization of old favorites and OCs alike, character dynamics that make me go mad, humor out the wazoo that both enriches the story you want to tell thematically and makes the fic even more enjoyable to read, not to mention that buttery smooth writing style greasing the wheels of what already has got to be one of my most exhilarating voyages through exploring high art in fandom space- it's seriously all so incredible to behold, and a clear demonstration of skill in writing, narrative cohesion, and character exploration that I continue to reach for in my own works to this day.

genuinely, I can't begin to describe how much of a presence your writing looms in the sky of my mind space when I think about my aspirations to creating writing of my own. I can only hope that someday in my own fic I've been carving out in passion and search of personal catharsis I'll be able to create a clever, satisfying, Cleanly looped narrative-thematic-emotional gut punch for someone else as "A chara" was to me.

i don't even know what to say. what an absolutely, unbelievably, incredibly kind message like. i'm tearing up. i audibly mumbled "thank youu ;-;" at my phone screen. this is truly wild to think i might've had an influence on YOUR writing, like wow, like. fuuuuuck thank you dammit fuck thanks, wow, haha

"A chara" has meant a lot to me for a long time so really really thank u