so embarrassing when i forget im checking someone's blog and i start scrolling through and liking and reblogging shit as if it's just my dash. it feels like wandering into someone else's apartment and not noticing and making myself lunch
reblog if i can wander into your apartment (blog) and make myself lunch (like and reblog as if it's my dash)
my favorite thing about the dropout community is that anytime i see someone post something like “this might be what gets me to sign up for dropout” there are no less than five people responding like “do it!! it’s the best decision you’ll ever make!!!” and i love that for us. we’re all so excited about our silly little streaming service <3
[pt: ⚠️ this blog does not support works created by AI software ⚠️. End pt.]
[Image 1 description: over the Ally Beardsley as Mother Timothy Goose’s introductory screen card, the quote written reads “'I’m going to level with you. They’re not always good, and I think having an honest parent is better than me just saying they’re always good. So sometimes they’re good, and when they’re not, they’re just not, and I love you both times, and I hug him.’ - Neverafter, Episode 20” in a peach font color]
[Image 2 description: over the Dimension 20 logo card, the quote written reads “’I’m going to level with you. They’re not always good, and I think having an honest parent is better than me just saying they’re always good. So sometimes they’re good, and when they’re not, they’re just not, and I love you both times, and I hug him.’ - Neverafter, Episode 20” in a pale blue font color]
Watching the 1. Days of school of the tiniest humans will always give me hope.
For being a shadow and two dandelions, that is a surprisingly unnerving image.
fuck bella goth, fuck agnes crumplebottom, fuck don lothario - the real MVP of the sims franchise is bonehilda
it's good for your mental health to have mutuals who are wildly horny about kinks which do nothing at all for you
this is both as in. sometimes you will realise that actually these kinks do do something for you and that can be very eye-opening and liberating
and also as in. sometimes you will hear someone decry these kinks as indicative of moral failing, and being friends with people like this makes you immune to that sort of knee-jerk outrage
Also primes you for awareness that there are a lot of people who like a lot of things you don’t like or even that make you uncomfortable, and that is okay, has nothing to do with their character, and is also none of your business.
It’s always good practice. Remember that minding your own business costs $0 and has numerous health benefits.
“Having freaky friends to immunise you against moral panic” is a take so good I can’t believe I don’t hear it more often.
Read on Ao3
Based off of this post by @hypewinter
—————————-
Danny loved his little brother the moment he laid eyes on him.
He was an ugly little thing in the artificial womb he was born from but Danny knew he would do anything to protect him. He wonders if this is how Jazz felt when he was born.
— — —
After the destruction of his hometown and being hunted by the GIW at the age of 14 Danny didn’t know what to do. He debated going to the Ghost Zone and living the rest of his life and afterlife there when he encountered a group of ninjas. The details of how and why are still lost to him but in the moment he fought. He fought and let out as much anger, frustration, and sorrow as possible. His eyes turned green and his fists were shaking and bruised from the fight.
Surprisingly, or maybe not with the life he lives, this isn’t the last time the ninjas come after him. He fights more and more off until he meets the man sending the ninjas his way. He is offered training by a man named Ra’s Al Ghul. Danny jumps at the chance, thinking how he could finally run away from his problems or fully die trying.
The training was ruthless and more intense than anything Danny has ever been through before. It got worse with Ra’s’ discovery of the extent of his powers. But with every push and treacherous day, Danny grew stronger and more resilient. He quickly grew to be favored by Ra’s as his star pupal. Danny was able to beat all his teachers but it was when he was able to pin Ra’s down with a sword to his neck that he was allowed to control his own learning. He grew in ranks with every completed mission.
Not sure if this is something people celebrate here, but 4 followers for me is really cool. Thank you for joining my cult
2,121,566 people are not Amanda and counting!
We’ll find you Amanda.
this has almost 11 million notes what is this
I’ve never seen this post once in 10 years on this site
I’ve never even heard of this before tho??? Wtf??????????
oh my god, I didn’t think there were any surviving versions of this post left
For those who weren’t around in the Deep Lore times, this is one of the relics of the editable post era. This post has THE SINGLE HIGHEST NOTES of ANY post on this site, bar none, but with more than a dozen variations. Every single post you’ve ever seen with more than 3 million notes has been a different version of this one.
This is the “Dean’s Gym Shorts” post. This is the Flubber post. This is the original “Reblog if you support gay people” post. it was ALL of them. before half the site got nuked, it had even more notes than it has now - at one point, well over 15 million, and that was years ago.
This, with no exaggeration, is the ONE TRUE heritage post
I find it personally offensive how many bad writers can get published so easily.
I used to find it reassuring, like, "Haha, wow, if THIS can get published..." but now I take it to mean "It doesn't matter if your book is good or not, all that matters is if you're in the right social circles (and you're not)"
As someone who used to acquire for an indie publisher ... it sucks on the other end, too. We don't WANT to work on shitty books with shitty writing. But bossman wants to make money, and shitty writer has marketing clout/knows the right people/is already published (even if it's only online/ebook).
I used to read the most AMAZING submissions I'd be forced to pass on. Like, there was one, a literary fantasy featuring a bi deaf protagonist who learns how to navigate a spectrum of relationships while discovering herself (I don't want to give too many details out of respect to the author/don't want her concept stolen) and I couldn't get it acquired no matter how thorough my proposal and marketing plan was because she was a debut author with fewer than 10k Twitter followers and we needed that advance money for another Fifty Shades knockoff (this was a few years ago lol).
BUT PLEASE DON'T LET THAT DISCOURAGE YOU! If you're a writer, and you're trying to get published, don't give up!! If your first novel isn't getting traction with either a house or agency, publish it yourself on amazon. Get that "debut" moniker away from your name. Prove you can sell your shit and keep working.
A good agent will work with you to come up with a marketing/publicity proposal. That will be huge in getting houses to notice your work - makes the acquisitions team's job easier as they can point to it and tell bossman "we have a plan". Look online for titles that have high ratings/are on the NYT list that can be compared to yours. That helps give acquisitions an idea of what they're getting into - and how to represent your book to their ED/publisher.
A good agent will also help you target editors/imprints whose lists match your book, increasing your odds of getting positive feedback or even constructive feedback. If I had a submission that just wasn't quite ready for publication, I'd give detailed notes of what I wanted and ask them to revise and resubmit.
Keep writing! Even if a book isn't picked up, start your next. It's so attractive to see an author with several unpublished works ready to be polished if you already like the work that's submitted. And more writing only refines your skills.
Yes, bad writers get published. And too many good writers, even when published, go unrecognized (if you like southern gothic fiction a la Where the Crawdads Sing, go read The Past is Never, which came out four months earlier and got NO national attention but is BEAUTIFUL). Be such a good writer that you break those odds.
Because you can. I've read your stuff on Tumblr. On Ao3. On Fanfiction.net. On Wattpad. You can do it.
This is actually practical advice; thank you.
In your youth you helped a group of horsemen in trouble. When the apocalypse came many years later, four vaguely familiar faces knocked on your door. They are the horsemen of the apocalypse and they offer you a place among them as the fifth horseman in thanks for your help all these years ago.
The story goes that there were to be four horsemen who would ride across the Earth, bringing with them the End of Days, the apocalypse. The great Seals would be undone, and one by one four great calamities would ravage the world, coming in the wake of the Horsemen as they crossed the planet.
First would come Conquest, riding on a white horse and decorated like a king of old, firing a great bow as he crossed the land. Wherever this bow’s arrows struck, the generals and presidents and kings and ministers were struck with lust for glory earned on blood soaked mud, or bitter rage that swelled to bursting over grievances old and new, or zealous fury born of ideologues that bayed for enemies within and without to be crushed by the weight of crumbling empires. And so the great nations and empires and powers of the Earth sought to subdue one another and their own people. Each sought to one-up the others, to make as many bow to their sovereignty as possible and conquer the hearts and minds of their fellows by whatever means, be they bullet or ballot or bill, through means stained red or glittering gold.
Second would come War, great horn baying and sword held high as his blood red horse crossed the nations and lands of the Earth. Wherever it was heard, the fragile peace enforced by threats and bribes and the competing interests of the mighty broke. In the wake of the second horseman, War bloomed in fields of mud watered by blood of the poor and desperate, the blind and deluded, led by the true believers and the greedy. A million different banners waved in the burning winds, those of empires and those of the conquered, those of rebels and the oppressors, and those of every nation and people of every land. The whole Earth knew the warm embrace of War, and there was not a day where the guns fell silent, until the last round had been fired and the last generals no longer gave orders that were followed.
Third to ride would be Famine, riding a black horse and wearing a dark suit. He carried with him scales and ledgers and tablets of glass and lithium and steel, with which to tally the crops and medicines and fuel and water and shelters and to set the prices accordingly. Wherever the jealous and greedy and hoarders kept the necessities of life locked away from those who needed them, the third Horseman’s tread could be heard. In the wake of the dark horse came the hoarding of the world, the people left to freeze and starve and die so the great treasures of the kings in all but name would appreciate in value and could be speculated upon, great gambling games with the assurance of golden parachutes while the rest lacked even the barest of safety nets.
Fourth to ride would be Death, upon his pale horse, bringing the end with him. Most of the last horseman’s work was to be done by his fellow riders. Disease, violence and bloodshed and starvation wracking the Earth in the wake of the other riders. Last would be the Reaper, come to take his harvest and close the curtains, or so many believed. For was it not the end of days, the end of the world? How could any go on after all the misery inflicted on the world these many long years? But Death did not ride out to claim the lives of humanity in one final cleaning of the slate. There were deaths, but the great ringing of bells that tolled across the Earth were not for the people of the world, nor were they for the Earth itself. Death came for an era, for a system, for a way of thinking, for the world-that-was.
For the fifth horseman to ride, one not planned for in the endless anticipation of one final cataclysmic end to all things, was Kinship. As Death brought about a final sunset upon a world of kings and presidents and generals and ministers, Kinship would bring a new dawn, the start of a new day, a new era. The world-that-will-be brought about as the final rider ushered in solidarity and kinship in the hearts of all, that they may work together as equals to build the better world they had been waiting for. The many peoples of the world, unique and equitable and free to do as they wished. No longer would they wait for the better world to be built around them, as Kinship rings out in their hearts they will bring that world into being themselves.
Oh. My. Fucking. God. This is amazing.
Scratch the surface of body shaming in any context, and you'll find a community facing political, social and often medical marginalisation that you don't have the education to recognise.
Even if your intended target is powerful, they aren't the person that actually internalises your hateful message. This is true even when there is no hate in your heart, when you are filled with humour or righteous indignation. It is still hateful.
When what passes your lips is an insult derived from the physical reality of the human body, you are contributing to the culture of marginalisation and are a personal detriment to the wellbeing of marginalised people.
Yes, this stays true if they are men. Body shaming is never ok.
Yes, this stays true if
they are men. Body shaming
is never ok.
Beep boop! I look for accidental haiku posts. Sometimes I mess up.
I know some people are going to be pressed that we didn’t get these perfect cinematic narratively fulfilling endings but that was kinda the whole point. Destiny’s children fought and died not to fulfil a great story arc. They fought to escape that structure. They all just wanted trauma not to be forced on them and to live their own lives. That was the whole point. They want to be normal silly guys who don’t exist for some moral or for entertainment value and just hang out with their friends and discover things like first love, divorces and a seventh honeymoon with your husband and your pet goose. Like they just get exist now and get into hijinks without narrative pressure. They wanted to be normal. I think it’s great they have left behind their genres of fairytail and horror and are just a wacky dnd party exploring the world and being silly. It’s what they wanted all along.
