March 10th, 1917

someday i will post this fic and then its all over for you fools. i mean not now. or any time soon. but someday it will happen

where?

men should apologize for not being sebastian stan.

I think Joan of Arc's fursona would be a dog called Joan of Bark, but my partner thinks it would be a phoenix, which seems insensitive to me, but neither of us are furries, so I guess we don't really get a say either way.

Blackout poetry exists on a dual axis from "banal" to "insightful" on the input side and "kind of deep" to "incredibly fucking dumb" on the output side, and while taking something banal and producing something kind of deep is well and fine, for my money taking something insightful and rendering it incredibly fucking dumb is where the real art is.

i cannot explain it but these all have the same vibes

SEBASTIAN STAN GOLDEN GLOBES 2025

come on americans, help a girl out

If you're lamenting the fact that you used to be able to shoot through a 500-page novel in like a day when you were in middle school and now you can't, it's worth bearing in mind that a big part of that is because when you were in middle school, your reading comprehension sucked. Yes, mental health and the stresses of adult life can definitely be factors, but it's also the case that reading is typically more effortful as an adult because you've learned to Ponder The Implications. The material isn't just skimming over the surface of your brain anymore, and some of the spoons you used to spend on maximising your daily page count are now spent on actually thinking about what you're reading!