And this goes for any other social media platforms. Please for the love of all that is good in this world, do not repost my art.
if you don’t even have the decency to ask beforehand, just… do me a favor and save yourself the trouble, and don’t post at all. I upload all my art on both Twitter and Tumblr, please reblog or retweet at your leisure.
If you would like to USE MY ART, say in an AMV, vine, banner artwork, blog theme, or use my art in any way that is not the same as reposting my art in its original form, please ask me beforehand! In most cases I am happy to give permission, but i would like to know if my art is being used for something.
The biggest reason I get so goddamn annoyed at fan theories (or at least at people getting too invested in same) is the lack of understanding that most of them display about how the creative process actually works. Not everything is fraught with significance; not everything is part of a grand and glorious plan. It’s definitely not always some sort of conspiracy where everything is invested with endless meaning that can be decoded if someone smart enough connects all the dots – and even if it is, a lot of the dots are not in the reader’s view unless the author fucking well decides to expand the scope. At the micro level, sometimes the curtains are blue just because blue is pretty. Characters can get particular names not because they’re Deeply Meaningful, but because names are fucking hard and that one may have been the first vaguely interesting one the author found when looking at the liner notes of the nearest CD that happened to be at hand. Meanwhile, sometimes, there is a grand plan, but executing it isn’t quite working, everything’s annoying, and now and then you just kinda gotta throw a curveball in there to keep yourself entertained or divert from a problem that you don’t know how to solve, in the hope that it’ll help you wander to a different solution later. And sometimes you throw random shit in just because it’s funny. That thing that’s sending the fandom into a full-scale tizzy just might have happened on an odd day in a fit of pique. Shit happens.
Basically, nothing’s perfect. Everything’s a process. Stories can grow and change and do unexpected swerves, and sometimes there are little detours that don’t mean anything in the grand scheme of things but were just satisfying to write, and other times there is deep significance to a choice that’s part of something the author very much wants to convey, and that can make off-base theorizing about it kind of maddening. It actually is possible to push a theory or an interpretation so far past having any perspective on the matter that you’re just plain wrong, and the occasional note to self that screaming DEATH OF THE AUTHOR!! at any suggestion you’re off the rails might also mean you’re missing out on something that really would be valuable to understand.
Either way, whether it’s a little bit of creative chaos at play or something that deserves a deep dive sans navel-gazing, perspective helps, as does the willingness to adjust course now and then and the regular application of a few grains of salt.
(that applies to this post, too, because I’m tired, irritated, and possibly not saying this as clearly as I wish I were. That said: I will probably put blue curtains into everything I write out of pure goddamn spite at this point. At least now you actually do know why.)
Author’s Note: A few anons asked for part two, so here it is! (Even though it’s been months. Oops?) Let me know if you want a part 3 or have any other requests!
Warnings: there are a few curse words and it’s kind of long, but that’s it? haha
”Well, hello, stranger,” Lin was walking down the aisle with his carry-on in hand. You had already been on the plane for a few minutes, somehow being one of the first boarding groups.
This was one of those obnoxiously large planes that had too many rows and carried too many people. And you had an aisle seat. Naturally.
“Wasn’t expecting you to be riding back here with us plebeians,” you responded, giving a bit of a laugh as he stops a row ahead of you and places his bag in the overhead compartment.
Glancing back at his ticket and then to the numbers overhead, he points to the window seat one down from you, “That’s me, actually.” Smiling, you stood to let him into the row, and you kept talking, pausing briefly every time someone would pause by your row, silently praying it wasn’t the guy in B. But takeoff was getting closer and closer and seat B remained empty, so you continued conversing with Lin.
Eventually, you were in the air and the guy from B never showed up or the ticket had never sold. Whatever the reason, you were thankful.
Four Times Eliza Texted Henry "I Love You" and the One Time She Said It
Note: So I wrote a fic. Because there’s honestly not enough. And honestly I’ve marathoned this stupid beautiful show enough times to warrant wanting to write this (somewhat longish) fic. I blame the chemistry shared between Cho and Gillan. Damn them. I don’t own any of the characters, by the way.
Four Times Eliza Texted Henry “I Love You” and the One Time She Said It