dodie-y3llow
dodie-y3llow
45K posts
cloves || infp i’m kinda like if the funniest girl you know was entirely unfunny 21
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dodie-y3llow · 13 hours ago
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im laughing so hard because no matter what song you listen to 
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spiderman dances to the beat
no matter what song ive been testing it and lauing my ass off for an hour
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dodie-y3llow · 2 days ago
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when me and my boyfriend make meals we have a tradition of sending each other unappetising off-centre photographs of them in poor lighting. we call this "wikipedia food".
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dodie-y3llow · 2 days ago
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so i wore a pride flag pin to work the other day and the kids were all interested (obviously) (find me a classroom of preschoolers who are not obsessed with rainbows) (i'll wait) so they crowded around to see.
"aww!" they said, "it's a flag!!"
but the thing is: they're little. a lot of them don't really have a handle on all their mouth sounds yet.
such as, notably, that tricky tricky "L" sound.
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dodie-y3llow · 2 days ago
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dodie-y3llow · 2 days ago
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their polyamorous swag
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dodie-y3llow · 3 days ago
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This is a Moving Forward PSA for everyone using AO3. I am witnessing the results of a culture clash and communication failure. Not a lack of communication, but a misunderstanding caused by changes in fandom culture.
Before fic tagging was common, fics weren’t tagged. You had a pairing, if applicable, an author’s note about genre or general content, and if they were feeling charitable, a vague content warning. There are even a few genres of fic where even vaguely tagging literally spoils the plot and impact (such as horror, psyche thriller, in which the likely content is implicit to the genre). As a result, there is a basic category tag that permits this, as a courtesy to “old-fashioned” writers.
“No Archive Warnings Apply” means the fic is PG13 at worst, probably fluff, totally safe.
“Choose Not to Use Archive Warnings” is the polar opposite. It’s a glaring Enter at Your Own Risk billboard. It means: a shitload of warnings apply but I ain’t telling because this story requires shock value. It’s very important to read the author’s notes for those fics because they might be using that older format from above.
But without the context of fandom culture that generated AO3, it’s understandably easy to conflate the two categories, given their similar wording.
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dodie-y3llow · 3 days ago
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i hope luigi mangione is proven innocent & gets to sue a ton of companies for slander and win & i hope he gets enough money to rebuild his life and get any help for his chronic pain that he needs & i hope he’s able to disappear from the public eye entirely if that’s what he wants
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dodie-y3llow · 3 days ago
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dodie-y3llow · 3 days ago
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Illustration by Sophie Lucido Johnson
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dodie-y3llow · 3 days ago
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dodie-y3llow · 3 days ago
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During this scene in the movie, I enjoyed the detail that Bucky also used iron rods to tie up the two other supersoldiers
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But it also makes me giggle to think about, because?? I really doubt any of them were fighting Bucky anyway?? I assume they all "surrendered" to him in hopes of explaining the situation and getting his help.
I just imagine John sitting there, completely complying as Bucky is bending the rod around him.
John: is this really necessary??
Bucky, probably enjoying an excuse to tie Walker up: yes
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dodie-y3llow · 3 days ago
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nonbinary new yorker going by dey/dem pronouns
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dodie-y3llow · 3 days ago
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dodie-y3llow · 3 days ago
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I think I may never be sad ever again. There is a statue entitled "Farewell to Orpheus" on my college campus. It's been there since 1968, created by a Prof. Frederic Littman that use to work at the university. It sits in the middle of a fountain, and the fountain is often full of litter. I have taken it upon myself to clean the litter out when I see it (the skimmers only come by once a week at max). But because of my style of dress, this means that bystanders see a twenty-something on their hands and knees at the edge of the fountain, sleeves rolled up, trying not to splash dirty water on their slacks while their briefcase and suit coat sit nearby. This is fine, usually. But today was Saturday Market, which means the twenty or so people in the area suddenly became hundreds. So, obviously, somebody stopped to ask what I was doing. "This," I gestured at the statue, "is Eurydice. She was the wife of Orpheus, the greatest storyteller in Greece. And this litter is disrespectful." Then, on a whim, I squinted up at them. "Do you know the story of Orpheus and Eurydice?" "No," they replied, shifting slightly to sit.
"Would you like to?"
"Sure!"
So I told them. I told them the story as I know it- and I've had a bit of practice. Orpheus, child of a wishing star, favorite of the messenger god, who had a hard-working, wonderful wife, Eurydice; his harp that could lull beasts to passivity, coax song from nymphs, and move mountains before him; and the men who, while he dreamed and composed, came to steal Eurydice away. I told of how she ran, and the water splashed up on my clothes. But I didn't care. I told of how the adder in the field bit her heel, and she died. I told of the Underworld- how Orpheus charmed the riverman, pacified Cerberus with a lullaby, and melted the hearts of the wise judges. I laughed as I remarked how lucky he was that it was winter- for Persephone was moved by his song where Hades was not. She convinced Hades to let Orpheus prove he was worthy of taking Eurydice. I tugged my coat back on, and said how Orpheus had to play and sing all the way out of the Underworld, without ever looking back to see if his beloved wife followed. And I told how, when he stopped for breath, he thought he heard her stumble and fall, and turned to help her up- but it was too late. I told the story four times after that, to four different groups, each larger than the last. And I must have cast a glance at the statue, something that said "I'm sorry, I miss you--" because when I finished my second to last retelling, a young boy piped up, perhaps seven or eight, and asked me a question that has made my day, and potentially my life: "Are you Orpheus?" I told the tale of the grieving bard so well, so convincingly, that in the eyes of a child I was telling not a story, but a memory. And while I laughed in the moment, with everyone else, I wept with gratitude and joy when I came home. This is more than I deserve, and I think I may never be sad again.
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Here is the aforementioned statue, by the way.
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dodie-y3llow · 3 days ago
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Every time I see blurry screengrabs from the pilot I become extremely ill
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dodie-y3llow · 3 days ago
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dodie-y3llow · 3 days ago
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starting a collection of my favourite AO3 author’s notes
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honourable mentions
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