I congratulate myself for finishing a fic, I go to post it, and then, the insurmountable hurdle:

Just start numbering them like musical scores.

One-shot in H/C for Destiel no. 5

planning my fic in a normal way. 1) what incredibly indulgent scene do I want to write next? 2) what connective tissue do I have to set up between indulgent scenes to get us there?

Here’s dril’s candles on a graph for reference.

It’s easy to look at these and assume “well, high crime cities need more police,” but i think that’s putting the cart before the horse.

Police make crime worse.

Police take fiscal oxygen out of the room, away from actual social support programs. The money spent on policing could go to housing, nutritional services, healthcare, civil rights, building inspections, labor rights enforcement, street maintenance, public transportation. But it goes to paying guys to sit around idling Ford Explorers all day and hitting poor people with sticks.

Crime follows poverty in absolutely every single case. Every single “high crime city” is because of the fucking poverty.

Today’s advice from your Goth Auntie

❤️ Auntie Jilli

explaining the concept of "blorbo from my shows" to a tudor era peasant and when i'm finished they grab my hand and start excitedly gesturing at a poster advertising a performance of shakespeare's hamlet at the globe theatre

*nods thoughtfully and makes a mental note to explain the term "girlboss" next*

[ID: tag: #this ‘blorbo’ doth please me greatly! Hast though seen the bard’s macbeth? For though lady macbeth did so much wrong she didn’t in my heart <3 /end ID]

A decade later

Diabolical

I'm so mentally stable you can park a horse in my brain

do you see this shit my liege

(They are like stray cats in more ways than one)

Saw this license plate today and I'm still ugly laughing about it

i'm reading a book about seventh century northumbria and you've heard of the tiffany problem but let me tell you there is nothing quite like reading through 350 pages calibrating for names like Oswiu and Æthelfrith and Paeda and Ecgfrith and Eanflæd and then getting smacked in the face with the fucking Bishop Chad

Chad and Tiffany, just as big a deal in the 1980s as they were in the 980s

ai can never ever write half as good as an average tired writer who pulls an all-nighter writing a slow burn gay fanfiction for their favorite fictional characters out of hyperfixation, love, passion and spite they have for the way canon treated their little gay ship

customers the same in all universes

this is it. this is the best response i’ve ever received on this post. everyone pack up, go home, we’re done here

I’m in this photo and I don’t like it 😂😭