@a-darling-thing / a-darling-thing.tumblr.com
something has gone deeply wrong when "focusing pragmatically on issues you can influence and working to make life better for yourself and your community" is considered an unserious distraction while "endlessly exposing yourself to media about distressing situations you can't control" is considered political engagement
and if i said amc should take the budget for mayfair witches and the new talamasca spin off and put it back into iwtv 👀
“i think there’s something about being a young woman that feels very murderous. that’s what i was trying to get with a song like ‘dream girl evil.’ it can be dangerous for people to think you’re incredibly nice. when you get, ‘you’re an angel,’ that seems like such a high place to fall from. when i see messy or violent or terribly behaved women, especially young women, there’s a liberation. to not have to try and survive by being good.”
— florence welch on her song “dream girl evil”
soft reminder: you’re enough. improving yourself is amazing, but it can get unhealthy if you feel like you’re worthless otherwise. you’re already enough and worthy and lovable, even now. working on self-love and acceptance is the most important thing. often the dream version of yourself that seems sparkly and inspiring won’t meet your true needs, and it won’t magically make you happy or fix everything. what you need most is love from yourself, and it starts from within. enhance yourself instead of replacing yourself.
If there’s anything I want anyone to know about bisexual and nonbinary identities, it is that ambiguity is good. We don’t need the exact nuances of our identities to be encapsulated within the label we choose. If you take a hundred nonbinary people or a hundred bi people, they are going to have as many differences as they do similarities and that isnt a flaw: it’s a strength. The diversity within our communities is amazing and it is amazing that a label can remain useful for so many people despite how different we all are.
In a few hours, international youtube viewers will be able to watch ep 36.
Save your heart. Be informed.
the social norm of “its your ethical responsibility to be constantly aware of, and angry about, every bad thing happening in the world at all times, even if you can’t possibly do anything about it” is possibly the best way I can imagine to create burnout and cynicism and depression in a population, so good job guys
The switcheroo scene: The real angst comes from Aziraphale looking at the holy water and Crowley looking at the hellfire, and both of them thinking the exact same thing. “My God, what if we hadn’t figured out the prophecy? What if it was him standing here instead of me? This is how he would have died, alone and in agony and surrounded by people who hate him.”
“While many people think fanfiction is about inserting sex into texts (like Tolkien’s) where it doesn’t belong, Brancher sees it differently: “I was desperate to read about sex that included great friendship; I was repurposing Tolkien’s text in order to do that. It wasn’t that friendship needed to be sexualized, it was that erotica needed to be … friendship-ized.” Many fanfiction writers write about sex in conjunction with beloved texts and characters not because they think those texts are incomplete, but because they’re looking for stories where sex is profound and meaningful. This is part of what makes fan fiction different from pornography: unlike pornography, fanfic features characters we already care deeply about, and who tend to already have long-standing and complex relationships with each other. It’s a genre of sexual subjectification: the very opposite of objectification. It’s benefits with friendship.”
— Francesca Coppa, “Introduction to The Dwarf’s Tale,” The Fanfiction Reader (via francescacoppa)
Someone put it into words. I gotta sit down
this
Miss Sherlock is just so so so so so so good.
Legit the best adaptation for me. There is so much heart in it and it’s so well written and the actresses are mindblowing and their take on Moriarty was just superb.
I need dvd of it like right now as well as a confirmed second season because seriously it is so damn good.
Sherlock invented his job bc he’s too neurodivergent and mentally ill to have an ordinary job and before he did, he probably thought there was nothing in the world he could do. Before he met John, he probably couldn’t imagine having a real friend and companion. He probably couldn’t imagine falling in love and being loved.
Sherlock probably felt for most of his life that he had been born into the wrong existence. But he saw little glimpses of hope for himself. Little gaps where he could make a place for himself. And he took them.
Francesca Coppa, “Introduction to The Dwarf’s Tale,” The Fanfiction Reader (via rembrandtswife)
Ursula K. Le Guin (via unreconstructedfangirl)
3 years of sensory deprivation Final 10 days of non-stop sensory overload
au where everything’s the same but Sarah briefly dated Harry in the early 2000s
The pudding course had gone well.
Maybe, John thinks, as he scratches the back of his ear with a finger, maybe eventually things just might–
“Back to mine, then?” Sarah’s eyes sparkle in the low lighting of the restaurant. One of the thin straps of her dress shimmies off her shoulder and John reaches, boldly, to slide it back up the curve of her smooth skin.
“Sure.” He swallows, mouth gone suddenly dry.
He pays the bill, she pays the cabbie, and they stumble together up the six steps to her surprisingly spacious one-bedroom flat. John shrugs off his jacket, which Sarah takes and hides on a hook behind the door. She toes out of her heels and fingers her hair up into a loose bun.
“You don’t have a flatmate?” John asks incredulously - and, he realises slightly too late, rather rudely - as he takes a look around the sitting room.
“I’ve a dead grandmother who hated my mother.” Sarah makes the pretence of fiddling with a bottle of wine in the kitchen whilst John puts himself delicately on the sofa. A small group of women with static smiles stare out at him from a shelf of framed photos behind the telly. He scans the crowd blurry-eyed.
“You went to King’s College then?”
“Yeah. Finished, christ, what…nearly fifteen years ago.”
“Same.” John chuckles. And Sherlock was insistent we wouldn’t get on. Wrong. “We’ve got a lot…going on then.” He rubs at his knee. “Could be a coincidence.”
“What,” Sarah comes over with two glasses of wine and a smirk, “do they say about coincidences?”
The wine is forgotten once John wraps his hands about her waist and she catches his mouth against her lips. She moves onto his lap and straddles his legs, both straps now sliding off her shoulders. She unhooks her bra, he unzips his flies and she dives a hand in just as he catches sight of a not-insignificant scar wrapping around a rib below her left breast.
“It’s–fine. It’s a long story.” She guides his mouth back to hers.
*
Later, as John is cleaning himself up in the loo, the thought hits him with a jolt.
Sarah is wrapped in a blanket on the sofa, still nude, thumbing at the stem of one of the glasses with eyes half-closed when he comes out from the corridor. She winks at him as he crosses over…not to her, but to the framed photo an arm’s length away.
“That’s my sister.”
A beat. “Sorry?”
“King’s graduates party, 2001.” He points, as though that would make a difference. “My sister. Harry.”
“That’s…my girlfriend.” Sarah pushes herself up to sitting, eyes wide. “Ex-girlfriend.”
“Harry.”
“We broke up after…we.” She readjusts the blanket, letting it fall from its shell around her ribs. “It’d been afterward. She was driving.”
John sits as Sarah stands. “Oh my god.”
“She was lovely–”
“She’d said she’d been alone–”
“–great at parties–”
“–that night, afterwards–”
“–great liar–”
“–she never told me.”
“–she left me.” Sarah picks up the frame.
“My sister.”
“Your sister.”
