#how does the algorithm work here

[aceenxl]

Twitters gone to hell, I'm going to be more active here now :]

[carlindotzip]

Will Wood Forsaken Skin

someone in a server im in was talking about their idea for a will wood skin for coolkidd which made me think of this

[percydoodless]

Original post credits to @fangypeach !

[xanthlikesfallout]

One Arcade Gannon from memory

I enjoyed playing with the filters before deciding on just leaving this one blank. Anyway filler sketch because I don’t have anything else to post today and God forbid I go on instagram and actually try to post there.

One Arcade Gannon after looking at a picture of his model,

I always forget how much I like sketching headshots, anyway. Enjoy :]

[scoutartzz]

I'm opening comms! i know i dont post here often but im blasting this everywhere i have socials so you bet im doing it here as well

best way to reach me is thru insta or discord dms, although i will check tumblr dms as well.

insta: citrushead_art

discord: scout_5871

[gender-euphowrya]

i watched a vid about that damn smurfs fanfic and it feels like the stars have aligned since then to shove smurfs in my line of sight as often as possible so i can never truly forget

[godtier]

it amuses me how ppl will make PSA posts about how such-and-such platform uses "AI" and tells you to be Very Angry about it via context clues, but then the same ppl will happily reblog AI "art", even when it's very easy to tell and/or it takes two seconds to look at the damn comments on a post to find that it's AI generated, or that the very OP of the post tagged it as AI art, or answered an ask like "yeah I use a generator for the pics," or puts "I use midjourney to make the pics" in their profile on mobile, etc etc etc

I guess it's easier to screech about how an option in a program that you can turn off/disable within seconds and that won't actually do anything more than what your autocorrect or grammarly or siri or alexa or google assistant or photoshop filters have already been doing with/harvesting from your data for years now (spoilers: you've been using and training "AI" algorithms for longer than chatGPT has been mainstream! yes, it's basically the same concept!) than it is to do a few seconds of reading or double-checking to ensure you're not reblogging art theft and tagging it as "photography" 🙃

[i-only-ever-asked-questions]

@reblog-house Yes, there is. But like everything it is a little hard to find it. Go to the prime page and look for "your account", then go to "Account and Settings"

When you get there, look for "Watch History" in the top row. You can see what Amazon considers you have watched. My problem is that not all the episodes I have watched are there for some reason. Amazon thinks that I only watched the trailer on the 28th and that I didn't watch anything until the 2nd which is not true. I honestly don't know what to do about it but here it is

Hi Neil!

I see the numbers slipping for Good Omens recently and I fear that people are forgetting that the time to rewatch in order to have s3 is still ongoing I believe.

do you think potentially reminding fans to watch/ask others to watch again would be worthwhile?

Honestly I'd rather people persuaded their friends and families and interested acquaintances to watch the show, than that they watched it over and over. It means more to Amazon and thus to the show if new people come and watch Season 1 and then watch Season 2 than it does people rewatching it.

[fivefeetfangirl]

looking through the tags of the is prev a popular bog poll is very interesting cause almost everyone is saying yes, and then 'almost everyone i follow knows you' or smt like that. besties did we forget how this website works?? people literally starts following people because they see their mutuals interact with that blog. so people share a lot of the same mutuals and same circles

[fortunately-bi]

God after that rant in the tags I really do miss old Tumblr. Like not just for the nsfw stuff but also like, I miss all of the people I used to follow who disappeared and I never found. I miss the stuff I can't find anymore because it got unfairly nuked during the ban, I miss not having ads, I miss not having weird layouts and random blogs pushed on me and Tumblr live giving me heart attacks every time I think I accidentally clicked one. Like for a long while this site was just left alone with the occasional update and different color of blue and we all just kinda existed(at least that's how my dash looked). Tumblr feels like walking into a house I used to live in but now someone else lives there and they painted the walls a different color they changed a bunch of things. Like it's still the same layout, there's still things that pop up sometimes that poke at the nostalgia but it just feels weird.

[koko2unite]

hmm feeling a little upset today again but what's new lol

[p0orbaby]

magic 8 ball

summary: What starts as Leah crashing your pity pint spirals, predictably, into something far less wholesome and far more hands-on.

warnings: SMUT 18+, just general sex stuff so you know the drill

a/n: i was inspired, not sure by what, but here we are

word count: 2.5k

-

“I’m not having a breakdown,” you say, peeling the label off your beer with such deep concentration you forget you have to breathe to survive. “I’m having a perfectly rational response to the current state of the world. And also to my boss, who thinks ‘relevance’ is when a TikTok account reposts our gallery’s Instagram.”

Leah makes a sound, something between a laugh and a sigh, and slides onto the stool next to you as if she owns the place. She probably does. Or knows someone who does. She’s wearing a camel coat from The Row that looks like it’s never seen a hanger. Soft, fluid, draped like wealth. Her hair is up—one of those deliberately lazy ponytails that costs £80 at a salon and makes people call you effortless like it’s a compliment. She probably just didn’t bother sorting it after training.

She orders a double gin and tonic. Not with Bombay or Tanqueray or any of the pedestrian options available to people who wear polyester and say OOTD. She points, without looking, at a bottle of something artisanal. Something with botanicals. Something brewed by a man with a beard who lives in Hackney and forages moss recreationally while naked.

“You’re twitching,” she says, when the bartender walks away.

“I’m fine,” you reply, tight. “I’m absolutely fucking fine.”

You’re not. You’re vibrating with the same energy as a microwave that’s just been asked to reheat a bowl of leftover soggy chicken chow mein.

Leah squints. “Your eye does this thing when you’re on the brink of homicide. It’s cute, all things considered.”

You think about stabbing her with the cocktail stick that came with the complimentary olives you got when you ordered. Instead, you finish peeling the label. The bar is now covered in neat, sticky curls of Beck’s branding. You take a vicious sort of pride in it—like this bar owes you something and you’re slowly destroying it molecule by molecule.

“I had to explain post-conceptualism to a man who unironically collects Funko Pops today.”

“God.”

“He said, ‘So it’s like Banksy but sadder?’”

“Oh, sweet Jesus.”

“And then he asked me if Damien Hirst invented fruit winders.”

Leah bites her lip to suppress a grin. You hate that she finds this funny.

“I’m in hell,” you say. “I live here now. It’s beige and the lighting’s fluorescent and all the curators wear Balenciaga in the wrong way.”

“There’s a wrong way to wear Balenciaga?”

“Yes. It’s when you do it with sincerity.”

Leah hums, amused. Her drink arrives. She picks it up like she’s in an advert for skincare. You hate her glass. It’s too clean. You hate how she sips, like the liquid is trying to earn her respect. You hate her in general, really. But it’s a specific, curated hate. The kind that comes with longing. Jealousy. Proximity.

“You’re not angry,” she says, “you’re heartbroken.”

“I am not heartbroken.”

“Fine,” she shrugs. “You’re artistically blue-balled.”

That, unfortunately, lands. You clench your jaw. You spent two months assembling an exhibit that got described as visually competent by someone whose own work consists of melting Barbie heads onto coat hooks. The only person who seemed to get it was a caretaker, and even he asked if it was “about feminism or something.”

Leah’s watching you with the sort of curiosity she usually reserves for rare mushrooms or political scandals. You feel exposed, like she’s mentally peeling your skin back to check for rot.

“I just—” You stop. You sip your beer. You stare at its froth like it insulted your mother. “I just want to make something that doesn’t immediately get filtered through someone else’s idiot-brand algorithm of what art is supposed to do. I don’t want it to do anything. I want it to exist. And I want that to be enough.”

There’s a pause. A proper silence. A respectful one.

Then Leah says, “Well. That’s depressing.”

You blink. “Do you ever have a normal human reaction?”

“I do,” she says, “just not to tantrums disguised as philosophies.”

You groan. Loudly. Obnoxiously. “Why are you here?”

She takes another sip, smacks her lips, says: “You texted me the words ‘I hope my body gets mistaken for a performance piece when I die.’ So I cleared my schedule.”

You rub your face. You did text that. You thought it was funny.

“You’re a masochist,” you mutter.

“You’re dramatic.”

You look up at her, eyes narrowed. “You think you’re better than me.”

Leah leans in, her face maddeningly calm. “Sweetheart. I know I am.”

You want to throw something at her. A pint glass. the chair you’re sitting on. Your entire unresolved emotional history. But instead you say, “Do you ever get tired of always being the most emotionally detached person in the room?”

She tilts her head. “Do you ever get tired of pretending your anger is intellectual when really you’re just sad and lonely and catastrophically underfucked?”

You nearly choke on your drink.

“I am not underfucked.”

“I can see how tense your jaw is from here. It’s clenched like a Victorian child repressing her feelings about having to crawl up another chimney. Go home and look at yourself in the mirror. Tell me that’s the face of someone getting railed regularly.”

You want to die. You also want her to say it again, slowly, in private, with less clothing.

There’s a long, crackling pause. You both know it’s no longer about art.

Leah sets down her glass. She taps the rim once, twice. Rhythm. Precision. Her nails are short, square, coated in clear polish that you don’t normally notice but have now because you can’t look her in the eye. Then you catch yourself staring at her hands for too long and quickly look away.

She doesn’t comment. But you know she notices. Leah notices everything. She notices the hair tie on your wrist has snapped and been retied in a knot, twice. She notices you’ve stopped wearing mascara, which you used to call your “armour” in that stupid, performative way you used to talk about beauty like it was actually important. She notices the crack in your lip that won’t heal because you’ve been biting it every time you think too hard.

She says, eventually, almost to herself:

“Right. That’s enough tragic brooding. Come on.”

You glance at her sideways. “Come on what?”

She lifts her chin, shrugs like it’s obvious. “It’s time for the three F’s.”

You blink. “The what?”

“The three F’s,” she repeats, counting them off on one hand like she’s listing dinner party ingredients. “Food. Fucking. And… I haven’t decided on the third one. It’s usually ‘forgiveness’ but tonight it might change depending on my mood or how close you are to bursting into tears.”

You narrow your eyes. “Are you having a stroke?”

Leah ignores this. She taps her temple. “It’s a system. A trifecta. A deeply spiritual practice.”

“Sounds like a religious cult run by Gordon Ramsay.”

She smirks. “Exactly. Chips first. Sex second. Existential clarity optional.”

You stare at her, arms folded. She’s smiling now, that crooked, smug half-smile that suggests she knows she’s funny, even when you want to shove her face into a vat of chip grease.

“You offering?” you ask, dry. “For the second F?”

Leah shrugs again. “No. I saw a homeless man outside and thought you two might hit it off.”

You snort, despite yourself. “You’re a bitch.”

She sips her drink like she’s just said something unremarkable and bureaucratic, like we’ll be closing early due to maintenance. She doesn’t look at you. You’re glad. You’re not ready for the look she gives you when she’s being sincere. It’s like being x-rayed.

Then she adds, almost as an afterthought, “Of course I’m offering. Don’t be daft.”

You freeze. A beat. Another.

“I thought I was a neurotic, emotionally volatile husk of a woman with a martyr complex and an inflated sense of artistic purpose.”

“You are,” she says. “But you’ve got a decent face and you’re good with your hands. So, you know. Swings and roundabouts.”

You scoff. And you’re trying really hard to stay calm because your doctor has informed you your concerningly high blood pressure is a direct correlation of your erratic emotions.

“What happened to chips first?”

“Oh, I still want chips. I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since three and I’m craving something fried and disgusting. Preferably served by someone with a name badge and an attitude problem.”

You nod slowly. “That’s the most grounded thing you’ve said all night.”

“Thank you. I’m a woman of the people.”

She drains her gin and stands, smooth and sudden, like movement happens to her rather than from her. You watch the line of her coat shift across her hips and hate her a little more. In a nice way. A respectful way.

She glances back at you, already heading toward the door. “You coming, or are you going to sit here frowning into warm beer like the ghost of failed gallery interns past?”

You mutter something under your breath and follow. Of course you do. It’s Leah.

It’s always Leah.

-

“You’re making that face again.”

Leah’s looking at you from the other end of the bed—half undressed, half mocking, propped up on her elbow like some god-awful, lesbianised version of a Greek statue who knows exactly how fit she is.

You’re topless and regretting all your life choices. “What face?”

“The one that says, ‘this is a terrible idea but I’m already wet so fuck it.’”

She’s not wrong.

You shoot her a glare and yank your bra off in one not so smooth move. It slaps the floor with the exhausted whimper of cotton that’s held too many disappointing breasts over the years.

“God, you’re hot when you’re angry,” she says, and you want to laugh. Or hit her. Or sit on her face. All three feel valid.

“Shut up and lie down.”

She does. Immediately. The smugness fades slightly, replaced by something quieter. More concentrated. She watches you crawl over her like a lion stalking its prey. Or more realistically like you’re some slow-motion car crash she wants to get hit by.

You kiss her. Sloppy. Unapologetic. More tongue than technique. It’s not romantic. It’s hot. It’s urgent. It tastes like gin and old rage.

Somewhere between biting her lip and grinding down against her thigh, you lose track of how long you’ve been pretending not to want this. Leah’s skin is warm and annoyingly soft. Her bra’s still on. She’s still wearing her bra.

You reach for it, fumbling. “Why are these always like a NASA launch?”

She laughs into your neck. “You’ve never undressed another woman before, have you?”

“Only emotionally.”

You finally get the clasp and she shrugs out of it, tits bouncing slightly. You both pretend not to notice how your brain flatlines for a second. You’re supposed to be cool. You’re supposed to be in control.

But her nipples are hard and you’re throbbing and when she reaches between your legs without warning, you gasp—loud and unedited.

“Oh my god,” you breathe. “Warn a girl.”

“You’ve literally been grinding on my thigh for five minutes.”

“That’s different. That’s friendship.”

Leah slips her hand down your knickers. Finds you soaked. She hums like she’s impressed. Or smug. Probably both.

“Jesus, babe,” she says. “You’re soaked.”

You scoff. “Don’t call me babe. You sound like some weirdo on Love Island.”

“Fine. Darling?”

“Worse.”

“You’re tight when you’re annoyed,” she murmurs, and then pushes two fingers in. Just like that.

You moan. Too loudly. Your hips buck automatically.

“Oh, fuck—”

Leah grins like a wolf. She curls her fingers and your whole spine tries to fold in half.

“Yeah, that’s it,” she says, pumping slow, deliberate, unfair. “There. Right there. Don’t move.”

You immediately move. “Fuck, wait—fuck, there.”

She groans, her forehead pressed to yours. “You’re so annoying.”

You kiss her to shut her up and reach down between her legs. Her knickers are drenched too. You laugh.

“What?” she says, breath hitching.

“Nothing. Just didn’t know England’s golden girl got this wet.”

“I’m a footballer,” she pants, “not a cardinal.”

You pull her knickers aside, push two fingers in easily. She’s hot and slick and all kinds of fuckable. Her eyes roll back for a second. She grabs your arm, anchoring herself. Her nails dig in.

“Oh my god. Keep doing that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Don’t—don’t fucking stop.”

You thrust harder, matching her rhythm, both your hands moving now—sloppy and synchronised. Her hips are rolling. Yours too. There’s swearing. Lots of it. You’re both flushed and swearing and laughing in between grunts.

“Fuck,” she gasps. “Harder.”

You give it to her harder. You give it to her like a promise. Like revenge.

At one point you both reach for each other at the same time and bang foreheads. Loudly.

“Ow,” you groan, blinking.

She’s laughing. “This is the least elegant sex I’ve ever had.”

“Good,” you growl, sucking a bruise into her neck. “I’m not here to be elegant.”

You push her legs wider. You go lower.

“Wait—are you—oh fuck—”

You don’t bother answering. You just get your mouth on her. One long, filthy lick from her entrance to her clit and she arches like she’s being electrocuted.

“Jesus CHRIST,” she chokes. “You’ve done this before.”

You don’t dignify that with a response. You just moan into her cunt and keep going.

Her hand finds your hair and tugs. Not hard. Just enough to make you feel owned.

She’s close. You can feel it. She starts talking like a woman possessed.

“Yes. There. Don’t stop. Don’t stop, don’t you fucking stop—”

You don’t. Of course you don’t. You flatten your tongue and she breaks.

She cums hard, loud, practically shaking, her thighs closing around your head like a vice.

When she collapses, she pulls you up, kisses you like she’ll die if she doesn’t, and flips you over. She doesn’t even hesitate. Her mouth is on you like it’s home. She licks you open, groaning like you’re her favourite meal and she’s been fasting.

“Oh fuck me,” you cry, gripping the headboard like it’s a lifeline.

She hums against your clit. You nearly black out.

“Yeah?” she says, lifting her head. “That good?”

You nod, dazed.

“Use your words.”

“More.”

“More what?”

“More Leah.”

She moans like that’s the final straw and fingers you hard, mouth locked around your clit as if it belongs there. You cum embarrassingly fast. Practically scream. Collapse against the pillow like a dramatic Victorian wife.

There’s a beat. Silence. Both panting.

Then:

“I think I saw god.”

Leah wipes her mouth and shrugs. “Tell her I said hi.”

You both dissolve into hysterical laughter, tangled up and sweaty and slightly horrified.

“So,” you say, catching your breath. “The verdict on the third F?”

She grins. “I think I'll stick with forgiveness. For all the shit we’re about to pretend didn’t just happen.”

You nod. “Fair.”

And then you kiss her again. Because honestly, what else are you going to do?

[were--ralph]

why exactly do you dislike generative art so much? i know its been misused by some folks, but like, why blame a tool because it gets used by shitty people? Why not just... blame the people who are shitty? I mean this in genuinely good faith, you seem like a pretty nice guy normally, but i guess it just makes me confused how... severe? your reactions are sometimes to it. There's a lot of nuance to conversation about it, and by folks a lot smarter than I (I suggest checking out the Are We Art Yet or "AWAY" group! They've got a lot on their page about the ethical use of Image generation software by individuals, and it really helped explain some things I was confused about). I know on my end, it made me think about why I personally was so reactive about Who was allowed to make art and How/Why. Again, all this in good faith, and I'm not asking you to like, Explain yourself or anything- If you just read this and decide to delete it instead of answering, all good! I just hope maybe you'll look into *why* some people advocate for generative software as strongly as they do, and listen to what they have to say about things -🦜

if Ai genuinely generated its own content I wouldn't have as much of a problem with it, however what Ai currently does is scrape other people's art, collect it, and then build something based off of others stolen works without crediting them. It's like. stealing other peoples art, mashing it together, then saying "this is mine i can not only profit of it but i can use it to cut costs in other industries.

this is more evident by people not "making" art but instead using prompts. Its like going to McDonalds and saying "Burger. Big, Juicy, etc, etc" then instead of a worker making the burger it uses an algorithm to build a burger based off of several restaurant's recepies.

example

the left is AI art, the right is one of the artists (Lindong) who it pulled the art style from. it's literally mass producing someone's artstyle by taking their art then using an algorithm to rebuild it in any context. this is even more apparent when you see ai art also tries to recreate artists watermarks and generally blends them together making it unintelligible.

Aside from that theres a lot of other ethical problems with it including generating pretty awful content, including but not limited to cp. It also uses a lot of processing power and apparently water? I haven't caught up on the newer developements i've been depressed about it tbh

Then aside from those, studios are leaning towards Ai generation to replace having to pay people. I've seen professional voice actors complain on twitter that they haven't gotten as much work since ai voice generation started, artists are being cut down and replaced by ai art then having the remaining artists fix any errors in the ai art.

Even beyond those things are the potential for misinformation. Here's an experiment: Which of these two are ai generated?

ready?

These two are both entirely ai generated. I have no idea if they're real people, but in a few months you could ai generate a Biden sex scandal, you could generate politics in whatever situation you want, you can generate popular streamers nude, whatever. and worse yet is ai generated video is already being developed and it doesn't look bad.

I posted on this already but as of right now it only needs one clear frame of a body and it can generate motion. yeah there are issues but it's been like two years since ai development started being taken seriously and we've gotten to this point already. within another two years it'll be close to perfected. There was even tests done with tiktokers and it works. it just fucking works.

There is genuinely not one upside to ai art. at all. it's theft, it's harming peoples lives, its harming the environment, its cutting jobs back and hurting the economy, it's invading peoples privacy, its making pedophilia accessible, and more. it's a plague and there's no vaccine for it. And all because people don't want to take a year to learn anatomy.

[anim-ttrpgs]

I’m making this a separate post because the original is funniest without context, but for real you have no idea how stressful this is. The reason why relates to this post

As independent artists making a living from our art, it isn’t enough to just make good art, especially when that art is a TTRPG. TTRPGs are not a respected artform, not even by the primary consumerbase. It’s so dire that it takes us making a lot of long posts just to convince people that TTRPG game design is real at all, that a TTRPG’s rules can be written a certain way on purpose to have intended results.

Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy has good game mechanics, on purpose, but having good game mechanics is only actually a selling point to a shockingly small percentage of people who play TTRPGs, so those good game mechanics won’t sell the game, at least not as much as we need to continue operations.

But no matter how good your art is or how respected your artistic medium is, just making good art is not enough to make a living. Because the truth is, art doesn’t make money at all, social media does. The best, most overtly good art in the world only makes as much money as the number of paying customers that you can reach. All the money we make through Eureka is because I’m out here on tumblr busting my ass to get these notes, followers, etc.

Money is tight, we need to finish Eureka, and we need a new release like Silk & Dagger and Death Bed to get multiple major revenue streams and diversify our market reach in order to make more money and, like, pay my bills, but I can’t work on either of those right now, because I have to spend at least one work day a week entirely focused on social media or else no amount of progress on our real projects means anything, because otherwise they won’t sell.

It’s a little bit like being disabled - or rather kind of an extension of being disabled, since if I was more able-bodied I could work a “real” job that has a steady paycheck - my actual survival depends on other people liking me more than anything else, it’s a popularity contest, and not only I’m particularly strong in, as an uncharismatic, abrasive aspie with strong opinions about the very medium art that I work in, in an environment where openly disliking an element of the art that someone else engages with is considered not just a personal, but moral attack.

If you think this actually does make reblogging hot goth elves on tumblr sound pretty stressful, and want me to make enough money to continue to make TTRPGs for a living, there's a bunch that you can do to help even without spending a dime.

Follow us on tumblr and bluesky

Reblogging/retweeting/whatever our posts on these sites, even if you don't have many followers, makes a huge difference and is actually how we get most of our new fans and patreon subscribers.

Talk about us!

Play our games, tell your friends about them, make posts about your adventures or characters from our games, make homebrew stuff, etc. Like with the social media posts, this is the only way the word gets out about who we are and what we do! Without word-of-mouth, we're dead in the water.

Subscribe to our Patreon!

You get monthly rewards such as Eureka updates, adventure modules, short stories, previews of new games, etc. It also gets you into our patron-exclusive discord server!

Buy, or just download, our games on Itch.io

Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy

Eureka Adventure Modules Vol. 1

Eureka: The Fanservice Files

Silk & Dagger: A Sensible Drow RPG

Edge Hedge Arena

Money helps a lot, but even just downloading them for free gives us a boost in the algorithm and gets more eyes on us!

Donate on Ko-fi How this helps is pretty obvious.

Buy our snoop merchandise

We only get a small cut of this, but the stuff is pretty cool, and they're good conversation starters!

[thefemigirl]

★ Reset Your YouTube

With the new year approaching, there’s a buzz in the air. It’s the perfect time to reflect on where we’ve been and where we’re heading. This year doesn’t have to look like the last one. If you’re planning a glow-up, stepping into a new mindset, or just becoming the person you’ve always wanted to be, here’s a method that can genuinely change the game: your YouTube feed.

Let’s be real, YouTube isn’t just entertainment. It’s also one of the most powerful platforms for self-improvement and learning. But if your feed is filled with videos that no longer serve your goals, it’s time to take charge and reset.

▸ Step 1: Unsubscribe From the Old You

First things first, go through your subscriptions and be brutally honest with yourself. Ask, “How often do I watch content from this channel? Does this align with who I’m becoming?”

Don’t worry about missing out. This isn’t about cutting off enjoyment—it’s about making space for growth.

Personal Example: I used to be subscribed to a lot of gaming channels because they were my go-to for entertainment. But now? I’m focusing on building my best self, so I said goodbye.

▸ Step 2: Hit the Reset Button

If you’re ready to go extreme (and trust me, this works wonders), delete your YouTube watch history. This is your ultimate clean slate.

Here’s how: Go to your YouTube settings, click “Manage All Activity,” and clear your watch history.

Why this works: YouTube’s algorithm will stop showing you videos based on your past habits. This means no more random recommendations that pull you back into old habits.

Pro Tip: Pair this with your new subscriptions to train the algorithm into showing you content that inspires and uplifts.

▸ Step 3: Subscribe to the Future You

This is the fun part. Fill your feed with creators who embody the energy you want to bring into the new year. Look for channels that motivate you, teach you, and align with your goals for 2025.

Being a femi girl, I will recommend some channels that are personally helping me upgrade myself:

Tam Kaur ▹ link

Alonna Elaine ▹ link

Bahja Abdi ▹ link

Adama Lorna ▹ link

Maya Galore ▹ link

Jillz Guerin ▹ link

Kisha Alejandra ▹ link

Thewizardliz ▹ link

Estelle Richter ▹ link

Simonesquared ▹ link

How to Find More: Search for videos with keywords like “level up,” “self-improvement,” “becoming her,” or “glow up in 2025.” Spend time exploring until you find creators who truly resonate with your vision.

▸ Step 4: Set Boundaries for Entertainment

It’s okay to watch fun and lighthearted content too, but be intentional. Ask yourself, “Is this adding value to my life?” If not, consider limiting your time with it.

Create playlists: Dedicate a playlist to motivational and growth-oriented videos. This will be your go-to space when you need a boost.

Schedule your entertainment: Watch for enjoyment, but don’t let it consume hours that could be spent learning or creating.

Resetting your YouTube feed might seem like a small change, but trust me, it’s powerful. When you surround yourself with content that aligns with your goals, you’re reinforcing the mindset and habits that will take you there!

So, I wish you the best of luck,

[bernardsbendystraws]

a brutally honest post from me to you.

to preface, I know this is a corner of social media where we fangirl and write fanfiction. i'm aware that these issues are not as severe as irl problems, but just because it's not that serious doesn't mean that a stress/frustration/sadness just goes away.

so yeah, i do know that these aren't the biggest issues that people are gonna face in life, but it's some i wanna talk about. if you don't wanna hear it, scroll. this is a judgement free space and i'll block anyone who disturbs that.

[ posts not doing well hurts. ]

when you're brand new, it kinda sucks. getting traction is hard. people like familiar names with familiar writing styles and layouts. they know what they're getting into.

its not because you're writing sucks, it's because you're different. maybe you have some weak points, but everyone has those at some point. so no, it's not you or your skills, it's because you're new and people like gravitate towards familiar things.

when you're not new, it can really suck. now you know you can get the readers, but sometimes that's almost worse. you'll feel like there's more pressure, that you'll never be able to top xyz. and it really hurts, especially if you make something that you're so proud of and it doesn't get as much traction as you hoped it would.

its not because it's bad. there's so many factors. sometimes it's because one of the triplets posted, maybe just an active period on tumblr where the algorithm is really in your favor, or maybe it was because the readers were sharing your work behind the scenes because they loved it so much.

it varies and it sucks. there's pressure to 'do better' but then you feel kinda stuck. you can't always do better, but you can always do your best.

either way, it's not truly your fault. there's so many factors that contribute to how well a post performs. your efforts are still something you should be proud of regardless.

[ friends ]

this is something i've really struggled with. it's really difficult. social ques are not my strong suit, I take things as they are presented to me. every friendship is different and not all of them are created equal.

some people want to be friends for interaction as a transaction. some people want to be your friend to make it seem like they have a place on sturniolo tumblr publicly. some people want to be friends to be your friend. there's a difference.

doesn't matter who you are, how many followers, or how many fics you have. not all intentions are genuine, even if they aren't necessarily bad.

[ drama ]

i've been in drama and i've also watched it. i've tried hard to avoid it but sometimes it is necessary to call out. when i was a smaller blog there were a lot of big blogs people loved that were straight up mean.

i can say confidently that i've never been mean to someone right off the bat for no other reason than thinking i was better than them. that has and will never happen because i know exactly what it feels like.

talk to a person in private first. i don't care what it is. ask them questions and have them give you direct answers. if it is something deeply concerning like a predator, that is an instance where it is important to speak up since it directly effects people on here.

it broke my heart when the juno / bri situation happened and i had dozens of minors dming me saying something happened but they were too scared to speak up.

i really hope that never happens again, but if it does, people need to feel safe enough to go to an adult on here. i'm happy i was that person for a lot of people because i needed a person like that when i was a kid.

put mdni on all you want, but please don't isolate minors when they are wanting to feel included. that's puts them at an even more vulnerable position and people know that. draw boundaries but keep all of this in mind.

i can and always will admit when i'm wrong even if i'm still hurt by the other person. apologizing isn't something that says 'oh this person is wrong, that person is right,' it's something that is required for basic human decency and respect. if i hurt someone, i want them to at least have the closure of having an apology.

i can't take back the actions or words, but i can validate their feelings and that's really important since we're all human and have feelings.

agree to disagree if you need to at the end of the day, but leave people alone. exposing people for things that aren't necessary is never gonna make you feel better.

interacting and creating genuine friendships will you give a lot more peace and joy then hate and conflict ever will.

point is, treat others how you want to be treated. we're all humans with feelings and coming here for an escape to fangirl and write. do things to make the community better. do things to make yourself happy and proud in the long term.

i appretiate anyone who has stayed to read this, truly. i don't know how much of a difference it will make but i don't care. i said what i said and i meant it. if this helps one person, that already makes it worth it in my eyes.

i love being apart of this community and i hope we can build it to something we're all proud of and wanting to be apart of at the end of the day.

with love and big tits, rose 🫶🏻