I mean, a year itself isn’t. That’s a pretty solid, concrete thing. Same with a day. A week has religious significance, and a month used to be solidly tied to lunar cycles before things started getting wonky.
But the more fiddly details are actually pretty arbitrary. The new year starts on January first. Fair enough, you gotta start a new year somewhere. But why January? Why winter, and not spring? Or if it’s gonna be winter, why is it ten days after winter’s started? The first day of winter is December 21. What sort of sense does that make? If we wanted the calendar to start on January 1, why not line it up so that January 1 is the first day of winter?
And it’s not like the older civilizations that decided these things just didn’t know. The winter solstice has had significance since neolithic times. I can’t find any cultural significance for January 1. It’s got no significance in Christianity, only significance in Judaism is that it’s occasionally one of the days of Hanukkah.
As best I can tell, it’s entirely based on the fact that, from 153 BC onward, Roman consuls entered office on that date. Which is incredibly helpful… for ancient Romans.
“Unlike the hallways, the lunchroom was suspiciously silent. There was a tension that filled the space, immediately setting Alex on edge. Navigating through the crowd, he managed to slip to the front with ease. In any other case, his small stature would be a brittle thorn in his side, but on the occasion it had its advantages. The scene that laid before him was one that would not soon be forgotten. Lafayette was towering on top of a table, shouting in a mixture of French and English at another boy who was standing on the ground looking up smugly at the enraged teenager. There was a small circle of students blocking entrance to the faceoff, keeping any administration interference at bay. Teenagers are like sharks, Alex thought, a fight is like a drop of blood.”
Aaaaaand here is yet another drawing from @damn-man-ham-fam‘s brilliant fic. I can’t seem to stop drawing Hamilton how did this happen
like i don’t expect everyone to know all about aids, i get it, they don’t teach us, you have to do your own research and some people haven’t done that yet. you gotta start somewhere, but just, maybe, possibly, be like a tiny bit aware that there’s a lot you don’t know and don’t run your mouth. don’t downplay the effects of aids, don’t berate lgbt people for talking about it, don’t use it as some kind of talking point against lgbt people you don’t like, don’t make callous horrible jokes about what if sex were deadly and turned people into monsters, if you do these things by mistake and people get upset maybe actually listen and care and apologize, have like a fraction of an ounce of respect, i don’t think this is too much to ask for like baseline human decency
That feeling when you’re more than halfway through a thing and 1. you realize you hate the brush 2. you realize that her hair is defying all laws of reality and 3. you realize you have no idea what you’re doing because you’ve done an animation like once before in your life.
But I tried to do an animation for @terriblenerd‘s absolutely amazing AU! (And I also apologize for this xD)
So this is the first poem I’ve written since I was about 15.
I was inspired to write some Alphyne content a couple of weeks ago, and for some reason I really wanted to write a poem, despite my inexperience. Well, you gotta start somewhere.
This poem is entirely from Alphys’ and Undyne’s perspectives. It should be easy to know whose POV you are reading from, but I’ve formatted the text and provided a small key at the end anyway to help make it more obvious.
This takes place post-Pacifist and focuses on the insecurities and flaws of Alphys and Undyne and how their love transcends all of that. Alphys’ insecurities are, of course, pretty easy to pinpoint, but for Undyne it was harder, and I had to delve into headcanon territory. I imagine that after Frisk frees the monsters and Undyne is able to get to know so many different kinds of people, she would start to feel guilty about her actions against the fallen humans in the Underground. Her sections of my poem are partially based on that headcanon.
This poem is free verse–no rhyme, no rhythm, no real structure except that every verse is 11 lines long. There’s lots of repetition and parallelism, such that I’m kinda scared it’s too much so, but this is only the second poem I’ve written, and I’m trying not to beat myself up too much over it.
Thoughts on both content and structure are appreciated; all I ask is that you be kind about it. If you liked it and if you can, please reblog this, as I would like my writing to spread.
“Hmm, what should we get?” Hyuk asked, looking at the large selection of lunch-meat options in front of you.
You shrugged, linking your arm through his. “I don’t mind. You pick.”
He groaned. “I hate picking stuff like this.”
“That’s why I’m making you do it,” you said, and he frowned at you. “But! In return you get to choose whether you want me to kiss you or cuddle with you after we eat.”
“Can we do both?” he asked, and you shook your head.
“You have to pick! That’s the whole point.”
“Why today?” he asked, pouting.
You shrugged. “We gotta start somewhere.”
You had decided to take on Hyuk’s never-ending issue with indecisiveness. He didn’t have trouble making decisions about big, important things, but when it came to the small stuff, like lunch meat or ice cream flavors, he always agonized over decision-making and usually doubted his choices afterward. He leaned his head on your shoulder. “One of these days you’re going to make me into a tolerable person to be around.”
“What are you talking about?” you asked. “You’re great to be around. I’m the annoying one.”
He laughed. “No you aren’t.”
Just then the your turn came up in line and you gave Hyuk a gentle push as he glanced at you uncertainly. “Okay, can we have half a pound of thin-sliced, um… ham!” he exclaimed emphatically, seeming to startle the butcher slightly.
“You got it,” the butcher said, and you shot Hyuk a thumbs-up when he glanced back at you.
Depression can go fuck itself.
Four or five months of crippling depression, anxiety, and self loathing have left me with a bedroom and bathroom that make me feel like crying with how disgusting they are. I’m living in an environment that is exacerbating my issues like woah, and today I have the energy, time, and play lists to try and do something about it.
Late late late night old school fandom story from ancient Attilee for all the Stevenbomb babies out there:
In the seventh episode in the series, “Bubble Buddies” where we’re first introduced to Connie, there’s a flashback moment where we see Steven on a Carwash float and Connie in the crowd watching the parade.
Connie, upon leaving the parade passes by a lesbian couple and their son, and that no more than five second sequence made the then absolutely tiny fandom GO INSANE
There were so many gifs, a handful of fanart, and just a general FROTHING AT THE MOUTH WITH JOY over the fact that this brand new cartoon on one of the biggest children’s networks had the ability and the pride to showcase a gay coupling as a family unit. It was incredible.
Now it’s almost funny to consider just how excited we were over background character representation with no idea of what was to come in terms of visibility and acceptance, but hey. You gotta start somewhere.
Kind reminder that your favorite character ever was an OC at some point. Some of which might even be self inserts. So like, don’t give up hope on your creations and writings cause honestly, they gotta start somewhere and you probably inspire more people than you know.
@heroicheartx is returning home to our shared dismay. Vacation’s over, but I’ve got 12 days until my last semester begins. The drafts have piled up in my absence again, so I’ll use this post as a “like this post if I owe you a reply and you want it” type of deal. 122 drafts so I’ve gotta start somewhere, right?