#don't try any of things I wrote about

[ultimaratiovaccinium]

Sweets (1/?)

The snugness was barely tolerable. She had overestimated herself. She looked surreptitiously over her shoulder and ducked around a corner. The only thing following her were her bad decisions, but she felt chased all the same.

Okay. Calm down. Breathe (but not too deep). Evaluate the situation. What are your options? Can you loosen anything?

She looked down at herself. Past her swollen breasts, past a fluffy roll of upper belly, she examined her waistline. Nope. The button was the only thing keeping the zipper together, and vice versa. For the millionth time, she lamented her morning. What a bright idea, interviewing for a job with a snack company. She was very well aware of how sweets affected her.

Could she find somewhere discrete to wait out her... little metabolic mishap? She looked around for a discrete nook to accommodate her fresh bulk.

The little atrium she had found had a series of plush benches around the walls. She sighed and headed for the one in the corner. She sucked in as best she could and sat down. Some horny little corner of her mind made note of how it felt as her tight belly shifted against her puffy thighs.

Sitting like this, only barely upright lest bending too far compromise her jeans, she couldn't ignore how her waistband was trying to cut her in half. She thought back to how she had done this to herself. The lovely HR manager had very explicitly pointed out the basket of the company's sugary offerings there in the middle of interview table. The woman had been insistent that she try at least one of each, gushing like any good salesperson about their rich flavors and subtle textures, occasionally even peeling one out of its wrapper and handing it to her.

How could she have done anything but eat what was offered to her? And by a beautiful woman, no less. She knew how her body reacted to food like this, but she had been desperate to make a good impression, to look good and eager and employable. A good girl. She ignored that last thought, and the accompanying shiver through her frazzled tummy.

She closed her eyes and tried to steady herself. Breathe in through the nose and out through the mouth (but not too deeply). All she had to do was calm down, and give her body a chance to do the same. Then she could find a back door to sneak out of, go home and hope that somehow that she hadn't blown the interview.

She opened her eyes again and caught sight of herself in a mirror across the room. Holy crap, she was huge. She had been her normal, narrow self, and her outfit had fit very very normally, when she had arrived. But now? Now it looked positively painted onto her. Her breasts were trying to spill out of her tastefully exposed bra and over the lapel of her blouse. She was more balloon than woman at this point. She ignored another tingle.

As she watched herself in the mirror, she noticed something change. Slowly but surely, the last wrinkle in her blouse smoothed out. Uh oh. That meant... she was still filling out. Panic. She tingled again.

No. No. Calm. Breathe (but not too deep). She closed her eyes again, and could feel her plump body quietly grow. Crap.

Panic. Calm. Breathe (but not too deep). Calm.

Maybe if she didn't look, it would go away. That had never worked before, sure, but there's a first time for everything, right?

As she rationalized to herself, she noticed the sound of heels clacking towards her hiding spot. Panic!

Maybe their owner would pass and not notice her?

No such luck.

The woman who had interviewed her rounded the corner.

"There you are!"

She struggled to stand. So tight.

"You left your purse upstairs. I get it, though. Interviews can be pretty stressful, huh?"

Like nothing had changed. Did this woman not notice that she was currently three times the size she was when she had shown up? Could this woman not hear every seam in her clothes creaking in harmony? Could the woman not see how wide and deep and round she was becoming?

"It's such a beautiful handbag, I almost wanted to keep it for myself!" The woman laughed. "Oh well."

She took the bag from the woman. "O-oh! Thank you!" Leapt out of her.

"Listen," said the woman, "technically I have to review a few other candidates, but I think you're a shoo-in for the position." The woman moved closer. "No one else has shown so much... enthusiasm." Closer still. She basked in the smell of the woman's musky perfume.

"Oh... that's great!" she managed to squeak out.

"In fact," the woman continued, "if you'd like to come back upstairs, we can have you fill out the onboarding paperwork now, so you don't have to come back just to fill out some forms if... when we give you the job." So close now.

"Um! Okay!" What.

The woman placed a gentle hand on the side of her massive, tight, growing belly. "Listen, between you and me, that passion you showed today will take you far with us. Do you feel like the offer is fair? We can negotiate further if you need." The woman's eyes were so sincere.

What was going on here? She could barely think.

The woman placed her other hand on top of her belly, well hidden by her burgeoning breasts. "I do hope you'll say yes."

"Um..."

There was a pop. Her button pinged away across the room from her overburdened jeans. It made a little thwack sound as it hit the far wall. Her zipper flew down, zizzing audibly. Her belly erupted through the breach. Her blouse retreated upwards. The tingling became a roar. All the while, the woman, as though no tectonic shifts were happening right there and then, continued to implore with borderline puppydog eyes.

The world held its breath with her. How had this woman not reacted to any of that?! What? Was the woman still waiting for an answer?

"...okay?" She tried. She wasn't sure if her brain was still working. "Sure?" Best to stick to small sentences.

"Yay!" cheered the woman, "I really think you'll love it here!" The woman launched in for a quick hug around her exposed belly. The woman's arms didn't go even halfway around her. And still the woman didn't seem to notice that anything was wrong.

"Well! If you'll follow me back to the elevators, we can at least get the formalities out of the way."

The woman took her by the hand and pulled, still gentle. She followed, mutely. Even the horniest, shamiest corners of her mind were silent, waiting with bated breath.

As they reached the elevators, the woman pushed the up button and stood to the side. "Please," said the woman, "after you!"

On autopilot now, she stepped into the elevator and... wedged into the door. Stuck. What. Panic? Calm? The elevator dinged again as if to say "I'm waiting!"

The cold of the elevator doors brought her back to reality. She put a hand on either side of herself and tried to pull herself in. As though this were somehow normal, the woman chirped "Oh, here, let me help!"

She felt a gentle pair of hands press into her oceanic bottom. Her horny brain thrilled again. She clamped down on those thoughts. No time to be a pervert.

Between the two of them, they muscled her into the elevator. She turned to face the doors in time to watch the woman press into her in order to let the doors close. Normally equipped for eight full-sized human adults, due to her immensity, it very barely fit two.

"We need floor thirty," said the woman into her barely contained cleavage. She tried to reach for the panel of buttons, but by now there was simply too much of her in the way.

"I've got it," said the woman, reaching behind her without looking.

They rode the thirty floors quietly. She could feel herself still widening, pressing towards the walls of the elevator car. Her embarrassment had burnt out, leaving only a kind of stunned peace in her mind. She tried to will her body away from the woman, but where else could it really go?

By the time they reached their destination, the woman was firmly pressed against the doors, still showing no indication of the extra-ordinariness of the situation.

As the doors opened, the woman stepped back, grabbed her hands, and pulled as she tried to wiggle through the door. Eventually she floomped through, and they set off toward the HR suite.

Full-on waddling now, she felt an inner tension release. She had stopped growing. Relief. If nothing else, at least things had stopped getting worse. Sure, she was almost round enough to roll. Tingle. Sure, her clothing had been reduced to barely covering her... rude areas. Tingle. Sure, a beautiful woman was acting as though this was all perfectly normal. Tingle tingle tingle. But hey, at least it finally wasn't getting worse.

The woman pushed open the double doors to the HR suite and welcomed her in with another glittering smile. They seemed to be the only ones there. The woman led her, patiently, to the front desk area. The woman ducked behind the desk, looking for something.

"Hmm, it looks like I'll need to go print off more some more copies of the forms. Shouldn't take more than a minute or two." Finally she'd have a moment to collect herself.

Then the woman produced a basket, laden with various goodies, from underneath the desk. "Here! Help yourself, sorry to make you wait." Uh.

"Oh, here, allow me," said the woman, picking out a chocolate confection, peeling it, and pressing it into her mouth. "I'll be right back!"

She chewed and swallowed the treat.

Uh oh.

[gingermintpepper]

As usual I read your tags always and so you said Apollo did not ask for resurrection of Asclepius and Hyacinthus so i just wanted to share this. About Asclepius death I read it on theoi.com, that earlier authors don't make him resurrect as a god but that's a later development mentioned only by Roman authors like Cicero, Hyginus and Ovid. But still Apollo has a role in Ovid's version

Ovid, Fasti 6. 735 ff (trans.Boyle) (Roman poetry C1st B.C. to C1st A.D.) : Clymenus [Haides] and Clotho resent the threads of life respun and death's royal rights diminished. Jove [Zeus] feared the precedent and aimed his thunderbolt at the man who employed excessive art. Phoebus [Apollon], you whined. He is a god; smile at your father, who, for your sake, undoes his prohibitions [i.e. when he obtains immortality for Asklepios].

So here it is actually because of Apollo the decision was taken to resurrect him as god. And with Hyacinthus, I don't think I've read about Artemis playing the primary role. I know in Sparta there was a picture of Artemis, Athena and Aphrodite carrying Hyacinthus and his sister to heaven.

This is not on theoi.com but I saw on Tumblr it's from Dionysiaca by Nonnus

Second, my lord Oiagros wove a winding lay, as the father of Orpheus who has the Muse his boon companion. Only a couple of verses he sang, a ditty of Phoibos, clearspoken in few words after some Amyclaian style: Apollo brought to life again his longhaired Hyacinthos: Staphylos will be made to live for aye by Dionysos.

So since he is singing inspired by amyclean stories it probably means in that place it was believed Apollo was the one to bring back his lover to life.

Apollo as god of order was very important so i think it shows how special these people (and admetus too) were to him that he decided to go against the order for them 🥺

ANON!! Shakes you like a bottle of ramune!! BELOVED ANON!!!!! I'm littering your face with kisses, I'm anointing you with olive oil and honey - you absolutely made my night with this because, not only did I get the pure serotonin shot of having someone interact with my tags (yippee, wahoo!!) I also got to have that wonderful feeling of "oh wow, have I misunderstood something that was integral to my understanding of this myth/figure this whole time or is this a case of interpretational differences?" which is imo vital for my aims and interests as someone who enjoys mythological content and literature.

I'll preface my response with this: Hyacinthus is by far the hardest of these to get accounts for because his revival itself, as you very astutely point out, is generally accounted for in painting/ritual format which muddies the waters on who interceded for what. I wasn't actually familiar with that passage from the Argonautica - and certainly didn't remember it so thank you very much for bringing it to my attention!

That said, what I've come to understand, both about Hyacinthus and about Asclepius is that in the accounts of their deaths, Apollo's position is startlingly clear.

For Hyacinthus, it is established time and again that Apollo would have sacrificed everything for him - his status, his power, his very own immortality and divinity. Ovid writes that Apollo would have installed him as a god if only he had the time:

(Ovid. Metamorphoses. Book X. trans. Johnston)

Many other writers too speak of how Apollo abandoned his lyre and his seat at Delphi to spend his days with Hyacinthus, but they also all agree that when it came to his death - he was powerless. Ovid gives that graphic account of Apollo's desperation as he tries all his healing arts to save him to no avail:

(Ovid, Metamorphoses Book X. Apollo me boy, methinks him dead. trans Johnston)

Bion, in one of his fragments, writes that Apollo was "dumb" upon seeing Hyacinthus' agony:

(Bion, The Bucolic Poets. Fragment XI. trans Edmonds)

Even Nonnus in the Dionysiaca speaks constantly of Apollo's helplessness in the face of Hyacinthus' fate where he writes that the god still shivers if a westward wind blows upon an iris:

and when Zephyros breathed through the flowery garden, Apollo turned a quick eye upon his young darling, his yearning never satisfied; if he saw the plant beaten by the breezes, he remembered the quoit, and trembled for fear the wind, so jealous once about the boy, might hate him even in a leaf...

(Nonnus, Dionysiaca, Book 3. trans Rouse)

And the point here is just that - Apollo, at least as far as I've read, cannot avert someone's death. He simply can't. Once they're already dead - once Fate has cut their string - all Apollo's power is gone and he can do nothing no matter how much he wants to. And this is, as far as I know, supported with the accounts of Asclepius as well!

Since you specifically brought up Ovid's account, I'll also stick only to Ovid's account but in Metamorphoses when we get Ovid's version of Coronis' demise, he writes that Apollo intensely and immediately regrets slaughtering Coronis. He regrets it so intensely that he, like he does with Hyacinthus, does his best to resuscitate her:

(Ovid, Metamorphoses Book Two. Apollo's regret)

And like Hyacinthus, when it becomes clear that what has happened cannot be undone, Apollo wails:

(Ovid, Metamorphoses Book Two. Apollo wept.)

Unlike his mother, Asclepius in her womb had not yet died and so, with the last of Apollo's strength, he does manage, at least, to save him.

(Ovid, Metamorphoses Book Two. Apollo puts the 'tearing out' in Asclepius.)

But it goes further than even that because Ocyrhoe, Chiron's daughter, a prophetess who unduly gained the ability to directly proclaim the secrets of the Fates, upon seeing the baby Asclepius, immediately prophesies his glory, his inevitable death and then his fated ascension:

(Ovid. Metamorphoses, Book Two. Ocyrhoe's prophecy. trans Johnston)

Before she too succumbs to her hubris and is transformed by the Fates into a horse so she can no longer speak secrets that aren't hers to share.

These things ultimately are important because it establishes two very important things: 1) Apollo can't do anything in the face of the ultimate Fate of mortals, which is, of course, death and 2) even when Apollo is Actively Devastated, regretful, yearning, mournful, guilty or some unholy combination of all of the above, when someone is dead, he accepts that they are gone. Even if he is devastated by it, even if he'll cry all the rest of his days about it - if they're dead? Apollo lets them go. In Fasti, when Zeus brings Asclepius back, he does not say Apollo asked him to - Zeus, or well, in this case Jove, brings Asclepius back because he wants Apollo to stop being mad at him.

(Ovid, Fasti VI. Apollo please come home your father misses you. trans. A.S Kline)

Even Boyle's translation which you used above in your findings hints that Zeus made Asclepius a god because he wanted Apollo to stop grieving. (i.e 'smile at your father', 'for your sake [he] undoes his prohibitions')

And like, Apollo was deeply upset by Asclepius' death - apart from killing the Cyclops in anger, in book 4 of the Argonautica, Apollonius writes that the Celts believe the stream of Eridanus to be the tears Apollo shed over the death of Asclepius when he left for Hyperborea after being chastised by Zeus for killing his Cyclops:

But the Celts have attached this story to them, that these are the tears of Leto's son, Apollo, that are borne along by the eddies, the countless tears that he shed aforetime when he came to the sacred race of the Hyperboreans and left shining heaven at the chiding of his father, being in wrath concerning his son whom divine Coronis bare in bright Lacereia at the mouth of Amyrus.

It all paints a very clear picture to me. Apollo did not ask for either of them to be brought back. Though bringing them back certainly pleased and delighted him, they are actions of other gods who are moved by Apollo's grief and mourning and seek to mollify him. Him not asking doesn't mean he didn't want them back which I think is a very important distinction by the by, but it simply means that Apollo knows the natural order of things and, even if it hurts, he isn't going to press his luck about it.

Which, of course, brings us to Admetus. And I'm really not going to overcomplicate this, Admetus is different because, very vitally, Admetus is not dead. Apollo can't do a thing once Fate has been carried out and Death has claimed a mortal but you know what he absolutely can do? Bargain like hell with the Fates before that point of inevitability. And that's what he does, ultimately for Admetus and Alcestis. He sought to prolong Admetus' life, not revive him from death or absolve him from death altogether and even after getting the Fates drunk, he's still only able to organise a sacrifice - a life for a life - something completely contingent on whether some other mortal would be willing to die in Admetus' place and not at all controllable by Apollo's own power.

All of these things, I think come back to that point you made - that Apollo's place as a god of order is very important and therefore these people are very special to him if it means he's willing to go against that order but, I also wish to challenge that opinion if you'd let me. Apollo's place as a god of order is very important and therefore, I would argue, that it is even more important that it is shown that he does not break the divine order, especially for the people that mean the most to him. The original context of my comments which started this conversation were on this lovely, lovely post by @hyacinthusmemorial which contemplated upon Asclepius from the perspective of an Emergency Medical personnel and included, in their tags, the very poignant lines "there's something about Apollo letting go when Asclepius couldn't that eats my heart away" and "you do what you can, you do your best, but you don't ever reach too far" and I think that's perfectly embodied with the Apollo-Asclepius dichotomy. Apollo grieves. He wails, he cries, he does his best each and every time to save that which is precious to him but he does not curse their nature, he does not resent that they are human and ultimately, he accepts that that which is mortal must inevitably die. There is nothing that so saliently proves that those who uphold rules are also their most staunch followers - if Apollo wants to delight in his place as Fate's mouthpiece, he cannot undo Fate. And, if even the god of healing and order himself cannot undo death, what right does Asclepius, mortal as he is, talented as he is, have to disrespect it?

The beauty of these stories isn't that Apollo loved them enough to bring them back. The beauty is that Apollo loved them enough to let them go.

[necrotic-nephilim]

What's so fun about BruJay as a ship is Jason's sheer obsessive devotion to Bruce. Jason is possessive over Bruce, to the point he doesn't care about the deaths of others so long as he has Bruce's attention. A part of the UTRH arc this isn't talked about enough is that Bludhaven fucking explodes mid-way and Jason won't let Bruce see if Dick is alive.

batman (1940) #650

A lot of discussion about UTRH paints Jason as this anger-driven cold, calculating machine up against Bruce when it's so clear that his love for Bruce is what drives him at his root, even if he won't acknowledge it. He says it himself, he would've done anything if it was Bruce who'd died instead of him and his anger is rooted in that possessive devotion not being reciprocated.

batman (194) #650

BruJay as a ship always to be, to some level, unrequited. Even if Bruce loves Jason back in that way, he'll never be that obsessed with Jason. Jason will always view Bruce's love for Dick or Tim to be a distraction, proof that Bruce isn't dedicated enough to him. Jason has the need to always have Bruce's attention, even when it could come at the cost of Bruce's other loved ones. Something something cannibalism as a metaphor for love in how Jason wants to consume Bruce's whole existence. He can't let Bruce leave him again, can't let Bruce love or grieve anyone else. Forcing Bruce to choose between Jason and the Joker isn't just about confronting Jason's killer, it's about confronting the other person who exists as this duality with Bruce and consumes so much of Bruce's life. That's the role Jason wants to fill, calling himself Red Hood and forcing Bruce to look at what he's become. But still loving Bruce and wanting more than anything for Bruce to reciprocate that love in the way that Jason understands. I just think it's good soup and rife with Dynamics that are underexplored with them.

[fictionadventurer]

Beauty and the Beast for the WIP game?

My only real attempt at writing poetry before this year happened during a stretch when I tried to write a Beauty and the Beast retelling in verse. I got about two-thirds of the way through before it fizzled out and languished forever unfinished.

When it comes to my recent novel-in-verse obsession, the simplest option would be to take another look at this work and try to finish it. There's a lot of terrible poetry in there, but there are some that are somewhat better than I remember. I can't claim to be a judge of what's good poetry, but some of these are readable, so I'll share some of them here.

The first set of semi-readable poems covers the first meetings between Beauty and the Beast. (These are all numbered, and I'm leaving the numbers in place to better differentiate between separate poems. I think the speaker in most of these is fairly clear from context, but just in case, I'll put the speaker's name in the title, too.)

VI. beauty and beast

he is every nightmare i’ve ever forgotten he is thunder and darkness and death he is fear with fangs he is beastly

she is every dream i’ve never dared for she is roses and sunlight and life she is hope with jewels she is beauty

*

VIII. beauty

the chair creaks when he sits

my knees quake when he speaks

the master laughs when i ask

when i will die

my ears doubt when i hear

my mind reels when i realize

the master wonders when i began

to think he’d kill me

IX. beast

the rules are these you are mistress of this castle the servants will obey your every whim the rooms and all within are yours including me

you will dine with me at dusk we will not speak if you want silence you will look at me and try not to scream

i will not harm a hair of your head i will not cause a moment’s worry you will do whatever you wish except leave

X. beauty

his mercy shatters my world makes it bigger and at the same time smaller

how can i live in a monster’s cage

my life will be long and lonely with him my friend and at the same time jailer

how can i look at a monster’s face

the castle teems with wonders that all belong to him and at the same time me

what do i do with a monster’s love

*

The next set of poems I feel like sharing starts with Beauty finding a portrait in the castle, and then leads into her sharing a dance with Beast that makes her kind of freak out over the fact that she might be falling in love.

XXII. beast

today you found a painting in a long-forgotten room covered in cobwebs and shrouded in dust

there was a reason it was lost

the portrait showed a man with a face like the dawn and eyes like the sea you thought he looked kind

he was young and a fool

you may keep it if you wish or lock it back in darkness it matters not to me i used to see him daily

i doubt i’ll see his face again

*

XXIV. beauty (and beast)

if rooms have souls the ballroom is wise a radiant beauty long past her prime

she treasures the days when she lived and was loved she keeps them and counts them like pearls on a string

(she is not the only one, my dear)

long past midnight in moonlight and hush this sleepwalking girl can glimpse former days

a flash of a gown and a whisper of waltz what glorious balls must this room have beheld

(they were marvelous indeed, my friend)

it seems a shame she grows old alone with nothing but darkness and dust held within

i would dance for her return the spark of life if only we had music and i had a partner

(i will gladly dance with you, my love)

XXV. beast

my dear beauty don’t you know i learned dancing long ago

one step closer take my hand with a waltz you’ll understand

let the music guide your feet in a dance that’s slow and sweet

hand in hand and heart to heart it’s not love but it’s a start

XXVI. beauty

he is hulking beastly

i am small delicate

i should be stumbling crushed

but

we marvelously miraculously dance

and it feels like flying

XXVII. beauty (to the portrait)

man on the wall i may be mad but i must give voice to the storm in my heart and you are the only one near

the master puzzles me i know his home as well as my own but i know so little about him

(is he beast or man or nightmare or dream or captor or friend)

i saw his face and thought him a beast

(but he grows roses and reads poems and has never killed or even raised his voice)

i heard his voice and thought him a monster

(but he spared my life gave me his home and all he owned offered his heart and never once has been anything but gentle)

i watched him dance and thought him a man

(with grace like an angel or a prince and i think that maybe he was not always so lonely and that his heart aches for things lost)

what am i to think do say be feel about him now

and why do these questions always come at midnight

*

The final poem is one that I had completely forgotten about, so I was shocked to find it lurking in the latter sections of the document and showing signs of using some decent imagery. By polishing up the last couple of lines, I've got something that's not half bad as a standalone poem.

This one occurs during an extended period when Beauty is still trying to process her feelings toward Beast and figure out if this is really love or if her feelings are being warped by isolation and close proximity.

XXX. beauty

if this is love it is a dark and grasping love a child stumbling in the night crying for a candle flame and cherishing the smallest spark of light

if this is love it is a bleak and desolate love a skeleton tree in a barren desert windbeaten and scrubbed to bone and bursting into bloom at the first drop of rain

if this is love it is a smoke and mirrors love a sleight of hand or trick of light that takes my broken heart and fools me into thinking he can make it whole

[feline-evil]

Dick or no dick confirmation Pickles was always going to be trans to me anyways; if he's swingin' somethin that's phallo babes, if he's not then his t-dick fat. What's not to get.

[biaswreckmepls]

Gentle reminder - reblog!

Hi everyone!

Not sure if you've been keeping up with all the changes that keep happening on tumblr, but every single time this website and company is acquired by someone new, they try their best to turn it into another facebook, or instagram, or tiktok, or whatever the cool new social media platform is. It's a fundamental misunderstanding of how this platform works and the benefit of the anonymity and workings of the unique algorithm. But every single time, they've tried. First when yahoo got it, then when it went to verizon, and then when they sold it to automattic. Now with the death of tumblr live, they're trying to do another rebrand.

Tumblr is one of the few remaining online spaces where we get the opportunity to truly curate our online space, and share and experience things in a way that can't be capitalised on. The concept of a tumblr influencer doesn't exist, because there's no advantage of it, there's no benefit of being an 'influencer'. But the only way we can keep this website around, is to keep using it as the way it was originally intended, in the way that other websites have not worked.

Likes on tumblr are not the same as likes on instagram or youtube, they don't really do anything! They don't help the creator, they don't help promote the post itself in any meaningful way, it's just a way to safekeep it for yourself later. And while that's a totally valid reason to want to like something, just as a reminder of something and a way to revisit a post later in the future, I would highly encourage everyone to try and reblog things as well!! Whether it's art of your favourite ship, whether it's a gifset of your favourite onscreen couple, whether it's a meta around a certain show, or whether it's discussions of the latest major current news event, the only way to truly circulate it and create a positive impact is by reblogging! The more people that get to see any given post, the better.

As an example, KOSA is becoming a thing again, and we're all being encouraged to act against it. I wouldn't have found out about KOSA if someone I follow hadn't reblogged it first, and then i reblogged it again. KOSA is one thing that could impact our online experience DRASTICALLY, and it's imperative that we spread the word about it - forewarned is forearmed, and only when we know about it can we take action against it, right?

I'm not saying this to try and promote this blog at all. I won't lie and say a few more reblogs on this blog here and there wouldn't be nice, but frankly at the end of the day my blog contributes little to nothing to the larger fandom discourse in the grand scheme of things. I'm saying this for everyone else out there. If you want tumblr to survive and thrive as our internet experience continues to evolve in the coming decade, keep using it as much as you can! Reblog anything and everything you can! Your one singular reblog can have a butterfly effect on a post. When you just like, the movement of the post stops there.

And tying into my blog (sorry lads, i'm only human and have to make it a little relevant for me as well 😭), if there's one type of post on the website you encounter anywhere that I strongly recommend you reblog, it's a poll. A poll only serves it's function if it reaches people who can actually vote on it, and we can only get a true reflection of the views of the masses when the most number of people get to participate in it. That's democracy, babey!

Anyways, that's my biannual rant. Back to your regularly scheduled programming, and see you in 6 months for the next big rant!

[lord-squiggletits]

No offense but I feel like among IDW1 Megatron fans you can lowkey tell who's read multiple series of the comics (namely, phase 1 and early phase 2) and who's only read MTMTE by the way they talk about, headcanon, or write Megatron. And like it does genuinely make a huge difference because I feel like MTMTE Megatron in general is a different flavor of Megatron from the rest of the series..... not OOC, that's the wrong word, but like....... more as if JRO had a very specific vision of him and janked the reins of the series to drive Megatron down a specific interpretation of his character, which is still in-character but is very different from the way he was characterized early in the series.

But in terms of Megatron fans, you can really tell the difference between MTMTE-only readers and other-parts-of-IDW readers.

[scarletfasinera]

I need to come back to the real world (aka stop being asocial)

[universalheart]

apocalypse

[strawberrysweater]

kaede and shuichi going out sometimes in the winter to look at shops and walk around the park while kiibo stays at their apartment (?) (i think he likes snow and rain but not being out in the elements) and kaede and shuichi always come back almost too frozen to move fjdhfjfj

shuchi takes an extra coat because he freezes easily and kaede bundles up her hands, and they hold hands and walk close the whole time to stay warm, but when they get back home kiibo always has to like take their scarves and jackets and gloves off and take them in to sit down under their kotatsu and make some nice hot tea and then he wraps all three of them in a blanket and turns on his heater to warm them up <3 and he asks how their errands went or if they saw anything neat and shuichi is too cold to say much and kaede sleepily tells him whatever happened and then they both fall asleep on him. this happens every single time and kiibo wouldn't trade it for anything in the world

[tenok]

.

[aberooski]

I love my gx winx au and I love that it's just bits and pieces of me being like oh that's fun and not having any semblance of lore or plot. It's purely contained to the character designs I've drawn for the girls.

[simptasia]

mum and i were almost not able to buy our house because a real estate lawyer heard us casually say i'm autistic and alarm bells went off in her head, because she believed that meant i wasn't mentally capable of understanding what i was signing up for

[cextra-loz]

Today I was able to stand for a new limit of 50 minutes when my physical symptoms are at their most minimal in a controlled environment. So we know 50 is the max now we're trying to reach 1 hour. I feel like I could've reached an hour with how I was feeling but the muscle endurance in my legs wouldn't have let me. I'm reaching a weird stage in my progress where its been so long since my body has had to support my weight for that long the blood pooling in my soles irritates and hurts like hell the days afterwards so now i'm rubbing the my feet like i've worked a hard day to prevent the inflammation from impeding my progress. I feel tho if I can reach that 1 hour limit I can reach longer times with practice. Its been years since i've stood for so long i'm really excited to keep practicing and hopefully keep improving. Last year around this time I was barely reaching 35 maybe 40 if I really really pushed- during my least symptomatic hours. Those extra 10 minutes might not mean much but since the beginning of my illness I never imagined i'd be able to make it to 30 let alone 50. I felt pretty good this session too which is the most important part, I feel like its the lack of muscular stamina that held me back rather than cardiac endurance. Anyway update is over, if I reach that 1 hour time it'll be a happy day I cannot tell how long it'll take me to reach that time but with some more practice I think a few weeks or months at least i'd imagine maybe even sooner. I'm so happy lets go! Dreams do come true at least 4 me ehehe!

[sharkneto]

Any advice on writing when you get no feedback?

I assume you mean posting some writing and then not getting any interaction? The cliche and true answer is to write for yourself, which you should be doing always.

But that's lame and abstract and, while true, not actually helpful.

First of all, it sucks. There is no way around it, it straight up sucks to not get any interaction on something you spent lots of time on and is very personal and takes guts to share. Let's all put an F in the chat for those snips and fics that just didn't go anywhere after posting. We remember them, at least.

Second, after poo-pooing the advice "write for yourself", I am going to seriously repeat it but expand on it so I'm not an asshole for doing so. I'm going to be honest, getting (positive) feedback on writing is like, the best drug I know. It feels incredible. It motivates like nothing else. It feels terrible to not get any after getting a taste of it on a previous project and it makes it hard to want to write (hear that, readers? tell your favorite authors you love them and their writing if you want more writing!). It's really hard to have a healthy relationship with comments and interactions because of that validation and dopamine rush they give. But you have to figure it out if you want to make writing/sharing writing a long term hobby (of which sharing is an optional part).

Forget, for a second, about readers. Are you excited about what you're writing? Do you think about it and can't wait for a chance to write those ideas down? Do you like reading it? The answer to all of those should be yes. That's not always achievable - I know many authors can't read their own work because they are their own worst critics. But you should at least be a little obsessed with your idea and thinking about it and the process of getting it down onto paper (er, screen). If you are writing something you don't care about but think readers will like, you've already lost. You are going to have 100x more fun writing some bullshit no one but you cares about than a plot you think is more boring than khaki but is all the rage in your fandom right now. Practice thinking about writing as a fun hobby for you rather than content creation for internet validation. If you can't, it might be a good idea to step back and take some space for a bit - it's fine, it will all still be there for you when you're ready to come back. I had to do that a bit ago. There's no shame in it.

Next bit is, if you can, find an enabler. Just one person you can throw snips and stories at and they want to read them and want to talk about your ideas (I hope it doesn't need to be said but you should reciprocate and chat about their ideas, too). If you have this outlet, rejection from the masses is a million times easier. You have someone to share all your thoughts with, someone you can go "look! I made this!" to, you don't have to bottle it up by yourself. I'm lucky, I have a few great enablers. I found them through mutuals and discord servers. Find your little private pocket of support.

Last bit is putting the feedback you do get into perspective. Set your expectations correctly - most people aren't going to be that Big Fic that everyone in the fandom has read and kudo'd and commented on. If you end up there - how lucky! But 99% of us are not that person. Set your expectations to the size of the fandom - is it huge or are there like 8 of you. Remember that every like or kudo or comment you get is a real, live person on the other side of it, who came and read your writing and took the time to signal to you that they liked it.

Picture it like you're in a bookshop, doing a book reading of your fic. Got six likes? Those are six real people who sat through the whole thing and clapped at the end. Got a comment? That's an actual person who came up at the end to tell you, to your face, that they liked it, which is much harder than just clapping (kudo/like). And that's not counting for the other people loitering in the shop, not committing to sitting down to listen but still listening and enjoying your tale while they browse. Can't forget our lurkers even if we wish they'd just take a goddamn seat and clap!

What I'm getting at is that the interactions you do get can't just be numbers, because they're not. The internet right now is so focused on quantifying interactions and follower count and numbers numbers numbers - it's easy to forget that there are real human beings on the other side of those numbers. The value isn't in the quantity, the value is in the individual you touched in that brief moment while they read what you wrote. For me, at least, that makes it easier to appreciate the interactions I do get.

Secret actual last thing I'm going to say on it? Fuck 'em. You wrote some good shit, it's their own problem people are sleeping on it. Fandom is fickle, you're not going to please everyone, might as well please yourself. Keep going out of spite, keep putting your shit out there until it finds the right people who will appreciate it or the others get their heads out of their asses.

TLDR: Write for yourself, enjoy what you're writing, find an enabler, remember every number is a real person, and - at the end of the day - fuck 'em.

[linagram]

I cant wait for yurika's vd to be like trial 1 Mikoto where she just goes apeshit on the guards (i know she cant, but the thought is funny nonetheless.) Also, could we get a general map of your prison? Is it exactly like canongram, or a bit different?

well, uh. well about that. um. a-anyway, her vd is gonna be fun <3

okay, so i suck at drawing maps, soooo instead i just wrote down some things about how the prison looks!

this prison doesn't have eleven cells and only has ten. so yeah, it doesn't have a secret eleventh prisoner or anything like that. it doesn't mean that eiji and miki were always supposed to be the guards though. all cells have the same numbers as the prisoners.

the way the cells are located is a bit different though: on the map it looks like they aren't that far from each other, but to get to each cell, you will need at least five minutes. in fact, sometimes it feels like those cells are actually pretty far and eiji and miki may need more than ten minutes. and considering that one of the guards is very physically weak for understandable reasons, walking there can be really painful for eiji. why would they even need to make these cells so far apart from each other and why would they try to make it look like you will need less than two minutes to get to each cell? it feels like they're making fun of the guards, honestly.. or do they just want to see how loyal they really are? it probably doesn't make a lot of sense because the cells are most likely supposed to be exactly next to each other, BUT THIS IS MY VISION.

the wiki says that the canongram cells are supposed to look like these white rooms with everyone's height charts, but in my head the linagram cells look much darker and overall have a more scary atmosphere. it's not really related to the map, just something i wanted to share jdkslsls.

BOY THIS PRISON HAS SO MANY HIDDEN THINGS. first of all, lots of cameras. it's really hard to find them and they're basically not visible, but it is possible that someone will notice them one day. the cameras are there to keep an eye on eiji, miki and the prisoners, but they're also there so that the third guard can watch them without having to leave his room. of course, he's not the only one who uses them.

in the corridor, you can also see a small screen hanging on the wall and there's also one in the dining room. eiji and miki's rooms have screens as well, but they're only used to talk about everyone's verdicts. eiji and miki have never found the fact that even the dining room has a screen weird and just thought that it's supposed to be like that. some prisoners thought they could watch tv here and were disappointed when they found out this is not the case.

the dining room, the storage room and the shower rooms are also there and eiji and miki have their own rooms as well. their rooms actually don't look much like es' room and both of them are unique, show their personalities and have everything those guards might need. it looks like whoever is in charge of everything really wanted these two to feel at home. well, they already do.

this prison has a lot of hidden rooms though and they're made to look like all of them are actually a part of the wall. basically, they have the same color and texture as the wall, they don't have any doorknobs, they don't stand out in any way. so naturally, no one notices them. one of those rooms is the third guard' room, jackalope's room is also there. most of those rooms are locked, but not all of them.