Botched-necromancy - キュッとしちゃった心の音をどうぞ。

maybe i'm just touch-starved but platonic physical affection my beloved: a gentle hand tucking your hair back for you, curling up and burying your face into their side, getting engulfed in a tight bear hug, tangling limbs to squeeze into the same chair, dusting crumbs away and tucking shirt tags back in without a thought, quietly lacing hands and swinging them back and forth, the solid weight of a tired head on your shoulder, casually moving through each other's space, rolling their sleeves up before they get dirty, absent-mindedly doodling flowers on their arm, walking on the outside of the sidewalk just in case, falling asleep with your head in their lap

I'm not a good fighter so I compensate by being just so fucking weird

I am a crime against god and biology

Me when the cast and crew agree with me: I’ve been vindicated. They’re right about everything, now and forevermore, and anyone who disagreed with me should bow down and apologize. In fact, I’m always right about everything, and everyone who has ever doubted me should apologize for their stupidity.

Me when the cast and crew don’t agree with me: Well, authorial intent is a sham and isn’t the measure of a work’s message. It has to be interpreted in the context of the production and narrative itself, so even if a particular actor or writer wrote or acted a certain scene a certain way, it still has to be considered within the context of the complete work. And we haven’t even started talking about the wider cultural milieu yet and how the meaning of art isn’t derived solely from author or audience, but from the back and forth between them. Ultimately, an author can’t dictate the meaning of their work. Once it’s out there it’s out there.