10 years ago, TV shows that were cancelled after 2, 12-to-23-episode seasons due to poor writing/production/audience reception.
Now they're cancelled despite raking in awards (from multiple organizations) for writing/production/acting/representation, have large & devoted fanbases (that are doing most of the promotion of the show), are the highest-viewed show on a network/streaming platform, only air for 6 or 8 episodes per season. And they're cancelled more than once, if not also wiped from the face of the earth.
Make it make sense.
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You know when a character reminds you of someone and you can't figure out who? And it drives you nuts for forever until you figure it out?
Well, I just had that moment.
I just realized who Gwendolyn Clawthorne reminds me of. Both in personality and looks. Keep in mind this has been driving me absolutely bonkers for a LONG TIME.
SHE'S JUST LIKE MY MOTHER.
THE FACE SHAPE. THE HAIR. THE GLASSES. THE BODY TYPE. THE PERSONALITY.
THIS IS MY MOTHER. AND I'M FREAKING OUT LAUGHING.
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a gift
It is such a gift that nothing I do is good enough because now...
Oh now! I can stop trying to be good enough
And just be me.
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I forgot that one of my favorite things about DSN is the amount of sexual agency Fiat is given, and the amount of respect Leo has for it. Too often in BLs the more submissive partner is sex shy and is pressured into sex by the more dominant partner, if not straight up sexually assaulted. But Fiat wants sex and seeks it from Leo, and Leo never forces himself on Fiat in any way. It's so refreshing.
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DONT BE AFRAID TO COMMENT ON OLD FICS DONT BE AFRAID TO COMMENT ON FICS IN A FANDOM THE AUTHOR MAY NO LONGER BE ACTIVE IN. IF THE STORY IS STILL UP LET THEM KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS IT MIGHT JUST BE THE REMINDER THAT MAKES THEIR DAY.
SINCERELY SOMEONE WHO JUST GOT A REPLY THAT MADE ME WANNA MAKE THIS POST
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because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.
you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.
you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.
don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.
if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.
you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:
how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!
aren't you happy yet?
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I can be friends with everybody and know none of them
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I am deeply struggling with the utter isolation of being a writer. Even when people say they will read for you, they never give any freaking feedback. I might as well be screaming into the void.
And then someone would expect me to put this online and expose myself to billions of silently judgmental unseen faces? Yeah, no thank you.
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