i love that motorcycles exist. like i'm genuinely so glad that someone was like "what if bikes were as fast as cars and could turn you into roadkill if you hit a pothole"
what if there was a vehicle so dangerous you had to wear armor to drive it
the stress of everyday life is overriding my sense of humanity again so i am once again playing "everyone's first day" to readjust my empathy levels. the rules are simple: for every stranger i interact with, i pretend it's their first day at their job. it makes me appreciate how much tacit knowledge everyone around me has learned and applies, and imagining how they fared in the beginning - how i would have fared - makes me see everyone as a singular person full of life experience again instead of an environment i fight my way through. the coffee shop employee making my order makes it quickly despite a huge menu, its impressive they memorised that on their first day. the bus driver gets us there safely and memorised all the routes and still nods at me in approval, and that's all on his first day! and the person who ran into me without apologizing is just in a hurry, wouldn't wanna be late on their first day. and after a while, you realize that all that is still true on a second day or the hundredth, and even if you give up the pretense the forgiveness stays. try it some time!
Reminder: Trans women are women. Trans men are men. 🎉🎉🎉
it is the nature of humanity to post about fucking monsters on the monsterfucking website
Hob had been very annoyed with the downfall of modern sweets. The chocolate no longer had as much taste, it was just sugar. And all the best candies had been out of production for years. He mostly missed Cadbury’s Aztec bar, but that had been gone since the 70s.
He had been planning on complaining about that to his stranger during their meetup in 1989, but well. That didn’t happen.
So, he’d just gone on with daily life, no longer going out to the store everyday to get his favorite sugar bombs. The only thing that was still good was the ice cream, and every once in a while a cake or cookie. He mostly just stuck with savory foods though.
And then, his dear stranger had returned. And not only had he returned, but he had told Hob his name.
Dream.
It was so fitting that Hob had laughed when he heard it first. And then, later that night, he had murmured it over and over again, cheeks hurting from the smile he hadn’t been able to get rid of since his friend came back.
He hadn’t had the chance to tell Dream everything he’d wanted to that day, but to his surprise and delight, Dream had showed up not a week later right outside his classroom door. He’d almost given the student who opened it a heart attack.
They had walked through the park together, talking amiably. Or, Hob had talked, and Dream had listened attentively, smiling from time to time and adding a thing or two here and there.
It was during this friendly conversation that Hob had remembered how awful modern day sweets were. They had just been passing a shop, and a pair of kids had walked out of it, one holding a chocolate bar and breaking a piece off for their friend.
Hob had looked at them for a second, then remembered.
“Oh yeah, and did you know just how bad all the sweet stuff has gotten?”
He’d gone on like this for around a minute before-
“I really miss Aztec though. That was some really good stuff. Too bad they discontinued it in the 70s, dammit.”
Dream had looked up at him then, brow furrowed and eyes twinkling. He’d left shortly afterwards, to Hob’s immense disappointment. Though he had promised to come back before next century.
For two weeks after that, everything was quiet. No sign of Dream, just regular old brilliant life. Although it would be a fair lot more brilliant with a certain gorgeous pale goth in it.
Now, Hob sat by the window in the New Inn, checking the assignments his students had handed back to him earlier that week. It was around 9pm, only just getting dark. (Thank god for summer, shortens the electricity bill)
Suddenly, a cat meowed just outside the window. Hob jumped a bit, then looked over.
It was beautiful black tom, with silky fur and eyes like the cosmos. Those eyes were very familiar…
With a grin and a sneaking suspicion, Hob got up and moved to the door to let the thing in. It meowed up at him and rubbed against his legs as it entered.
He went back to his spot and sat back down. The cat hopped up on the chair opposite him. For a while, Hob just continued checking the essays, not paying the cat any mind. If his suspicion was correct, that was the best way to prove it, he though.
And he thought correctly.
Twenty minutes in, a slight breeze flowed through the inn.
Another minute later, a quiet cough sounded across from Hob.
Hob grinned and liften his gaze to meet Dream’s.
“Dream! How lovely to see you.”
He teased his friend, amused at how his brow creased with slight annoyance. He knew Dream wouldn’t run off from some casual banter, so he could afford this little thing every now and then.
“What brings you here, my friend?”
Dream blinked silently. Then, he reached into a coat pocket and pulled something out.
“Close your eyes, Hob.”
Hob did.
“Give me your hand.”
And Hob did. He was confused, but interested and eager at the prospect of touching this ethereal creature.
He realized he had never done so before.
Dream’s skin was softer than any silk Hob had ever known, though it emanated no warmth.
Maybe Hob could rub some into it some day.
Hopefully that day would come soon.
A small, plastic package settled in his hand, and cold fingers closed his own around it.
When Hob opened his eyes, he was alone at the table again, holding a candy bar. He blinked a few times, perturbed.
Then, he looked down at the bar and his breath hitched.
It was an Aztec.
It was a damn Aztec.
A laugh escaped him, incredulous and delighted. He pocketed the sweet, determined to get Dream to try it with him later.
And also maybe kiss him senseless as thanks.
This post was inspired by @gabessquishytum’s post, which you can find here
No means No, even if it's a big name author with tons of lawyers behind them. When they say "please don't show me fan fic," that's enough, and, if they give more detail about why, you don't get to judge whether you think they're telling the truth or not
To clarify: I saw a post where someone said they didn't believe that Big Name Authors were genuinely afraid of being sued, but that instead they were just snobs who hated fanfic and thought saying "oh no I could get sued" was more polite than sharing their true feelings
Another author shared a detailed, eloquent explanation of what a bad take that was, and all of the points were 100% valid
but
No Means No
and I was just so baffled that the OP was more willing to spin a tale of authors all agreeing to the same lie about not wanting to get sued so they could hide their disdain for their fans, than just respecting the requests not to do it
Authors who hate fanfic are not afraid to say so.
Authors who love fanfic are not afraid to say so.
We are not collectively in the business of lying for free. We get paid for that. So no, we're not running a mass conspiracy to lie to you about our feelings.
I love when there’s a really bending heavy episode because you just KNOW Sokka is about to get the dumbest C plot
They stuck that boy in a hole for 22 minutes
This Restaurant Offers Food For Free If You Can’t Afford It
Just adding: that’s an Islam flag there and when I worked for a semester at a Mosque as part of a cultural exchange, the Imam told me that if there are hungry people within walking distance, then they are failing their duties.
I carry that with me always. Feed your neighbours.
Real talk why does social interaction feel like you’re trying to get a good grade in being a person
Ahhh, glad to see it always comes back to this
ok remember when i said i have impeccable posting time bc i posted a drawing abt laudna, ashton, and orym being missing the night they came back??
well i think i really do bc i just finished this drawing of the issylra guests and of where they were before they got teleported… and guess what happened??? guess what just got revealed to be different???
Of all the struggles humanity has shared across the many ages, I think the most endearing is the struggle to draw a horse. For instance, medieval manuscripts highlight the pertinent questions of "what is a horse" and "which way do horse parts go?"
Maybe not that way.
Plus interpretations drawn by a guy who has seen maybe one animal in his life. Potentially a soulfully distressed dog.
"teeth?? these mfers have teeth?"
And, of course, my all time favorite,
Round.
Bonus: But also? What else is there but this.
peace and love on planet horse.
there is a universe slightly to our left where ryan and shane are both theater majors instead of cinematography majors that’s crazy
but then they wouldn’t have met, I hear you say, because they wouldn’t have gone to work for the same multimedia production company, but I disagree. I think these guys would’ve found each other even if they were both marine biologists
A lot of people love that fake Voltaire quote, "To learn who rules over you, simply find out who you are not allowed to criticize," because it's just vague enough to cover everyone's differing definition of who they are. Obviously the neo-Nazi who made this quote up meant it to imply Jewish people, but there's actually lots of different groups that aren't considered socially acceptable targets of specified critique.
You know who no one ever lets me criticize? Orphans. Anytime I try to point out that orphans are living lavishly at the expense of hardworking taxpayers, people around me always seem to get disgusted. Naturally, this suggests that we live in a world ruled by orphans