Pansexuals constantly get ignored and are most people seem to think they probably don’t exist. Therefore pansexuals are crypdits Reblog if you’re a pansexual cryptid or support pansexual cryptids.
Month: February 2018
Honestly, I think the whole “don’t pay the writers” thing boils down to the notion that everybody thinks they can write. It’s the old saw about the novelist at a cocktail party having to hear someone say, for the millionth time, “I’d love to write a book someday.”
Someone–Stephen King? Pretty sure I saw this in a Stephen King foreword–once said they’d like to say to a brain surgeon, “Boy, I’d love to do brain surgery someday.”
We treat “the ability to put words into a sentence” like it’s just the same as “the ability to form a coherent narrative that engenders a variety of emotions within the reader and puts them in a scene and shows them what they didn’t see before”.
And that’s like me drawing a stick figure and saying I’m an artist.
Writers are constantly devalued because everyone thinks they have a book in them and don’t realize the level of skill and commitment it takes to finish even a short story, much less a whole book.
This goes well beyond fandom, but man, I would’ve hoped fandom would know better.
***REBLOGS AGGRESSIVELY***
Well excuse me you monster who has the power to rise the land
every time i open this app i read some dumb ass shit
And every time we kiss I swear I can fly
lotor is a fuckboi
he would totally text you at 3:28 am with “u up?”
lotor: i cant sleep
axca: i can goodnight
Lance: *gets injured by Galra*
Blue Lion: *does nothing*
Shiro: *gets kidnapped by Galra*
Black Lion: *does nothing*
Keith: *gets a papercut*
Red Lion: aRe YoU OKaY kEiTh?!?!
it’s almost valentines day…
and i know this is a really exciting day for some people and i’m happy for you and i wish you a good valentines day
but there are people who aren’t surrounded by the love they deserve and valentines day doesn’t help soothe that feeling, i know that, it’s not fair and i’m sorry
if no one tells you this on valentines day
- you’re beautiful
- you’re amazing
- you’re going to be okay
- i love you
either side you’re on this valentines day i hope you have a great valentines day!
shout out to ace and aro kids who are constantly bombarded with the opinion that sex and romantic love are directly connected to living a happy life.
Y’all are just reblogging this at the speed of sound tonight
Since it’s almost valentines day, and this message is about to get hammered in even more, reblogging this again.
I think all gays really do have a set of string lights somewhere in their room
Are you a white lights gay, a single color lights gay, or a multi-color lights gay?
me to the demon in the corner of my room: ain’t u got shit to do
He’d been lurking about for days now, this shadow thing. It used to scare me, terrify me straight into insomnia. But it had just stood there the whole time. Now it seemed part of the furniture, if I’m being honest.
I started talking to it. Probably not my best idea, I’ll give you that, but it’s not like I had anyone else around. I would tell it about my day as I readied for bed. Jeff was a dick at the meeting this morning. Had the best hot dog off the best cart in the city for lunch. SIX reports due by Friday? Kellen must be trying to kill me. I even wished it good night. And it just stared, with its glowing red eyes.
One night, I had to stay late at the office. Really late. Remember those six reports? They turned into fifteen. And if I didn’t get them done for this major client, it was my head on the HR guillotine. So I stayed late. I ended up crashing on the sofa in the break room and woke up to more work on my desk. That was Thursday morning. I had to get this all done by Monday.
On Friday night, around ten, I decided to go home and get some real sleep before going back to the office to finish this insane task. And then I felt it. Something was here with me and it wasn’t the janitor.
I looked in the corner and there were those eyes again, surrounded by shadow. I sighed. I really didn’t have time for this, not here.
“Ain’t you got shit to do?” I snapped, walking to the break room for yet more coffee. So much for going home to sleep.
A growling sound, then a deep, rasping voice said, “I miss you.”
I stopped. “What do you mean, you miss me? Aren’t you a demon or something?”
“You didn’t come home. I’ve been worried. What are you doing here?”
We’d never conversed like this. It was almost comforting, like a friend would be.
“I’m working, man. I’ve got a big client coming on Monday and Kellen put all these damn reports on my desk and if I don’t get them done, I’m probably gonna get fired.” I ranted as I took off my tie and ran my fingers through my hair.
The demon paused, thinking. It moved slowly around the room, taking it all in.
“Do you want me to eat Kellen?” it suddenly asked.
I laughed, “No, don’t eat Kellen. It’s not really his fault.”
“Then what shall I do?”
I sighed and considered. What could a shadow demon do to help me?
“Do you know anything about graphic design and marketing?”
It paused its roaming. “I ate an artist’s soul, once.”
“Good enough. Just sit behind me and tell me what looks good.”
On Monday morning, the company landed the client, I got a raise, and arranged it so I could work from home two days a week. We moved to a bigger flat two months later. It makes cinnamon pancakes on Saturdays.
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