#so please don't fucking feed it

[rivertalesien]

"AI Art" is already being normalized on this site via memes and shitposting that tries to be ironic without recognizing *any* sharing of "ai art" is normalizing, not critique.

A generation is already growing up on chatgpt.

[carouselunique]

Is it true that there's no animosity between you and... you know, you know who. You never talk about her in any way. I guess I'm curious. You guys seemed like really close friends and then just weren't friends at all. And there was some stuff she said that seemed very targeted at you...

I don't know if she feels any animosity toward me or not any more. Our mutual friends have said she doesn't and I take them on their word in that regard, assuming that if they have an answer for me it's because they're aware how she feels. I wouldn't know and it's not my place to put words in her mouth.

I haven't spoken to her/about her in a long time and the only time she even crosses my mind is when people bring her up to me. As for me feeling any animosity? I'll admit my feelings on her these days are complicated and way too nuance-core for people who aren't my friends to hear about but I wouldn't call them animosity in any way. I inherently want people my friends care about to live well because I care about my friends, and anyone my friends care about by proxy and I still share friends with her. I would never wish ill on people my friends care about so animosity doesn't fit into that by definition. I'd say I'm hurt more than anything and even then I've worked through a lot of it with trusted friends who have helped me deal with my emotions in a healthy way.

(Besides, my own life struggles keep me from even being able to invest time into animosity. I have to expend that energy loving my family, doing my best to support them during our struggles. And I've never been a hateful person it isn't in me. I would rather play 'Hot To Go' by Chappell Roan and teach my dad how to do the hand gestures to help him strengthen his muscles again than focus on hating anyone...)

I try not to think about her because it hurts. I often think that people forget that I'm a real person outside of her sphere, and that I wouldn't want to talk about what happened because I truly did consider her a friend for a long time. And when someone I consider a friend appears to not regard me with care any more suddenly and I don't even have closure on that... well... it hurts... A lot. Of course I never talk about it.

And I'm not stupid, I have seen some stuff she's said that I've gathered was about me. I remind myself that she has a right to vent in her own spaces and I truly mean that... it's just a shame that her own spaces have people who then have taken these things to me to show me (after all, I wouldn't have even seen these things myself if not for third-party anons going 'this u?') saying it is my own fault because I was a terribly cruel friend or my own fault for not listening to warnings about her when I had the chance and that makes me a stupid gullible bitch. You lot haven't seen some of the awful shit about me from some of her more ravenous fans and haters I've seen over the years that I've had to let roll off my back in the fear it would bring backlash - not even to me, to her. I don't want to be the cause of any hatred going to anyone.

Also I'm just not going to ever talk about the details of our fallen friendship or our fallen relationship. That's private. She might be a public person to some extent but I never was, even if I do gain some measure of small fandom for my work one day I'm just private about personal matters especially raw ones. I almost deleted this ask entirely but Idk I never stated that it bothers me when people talk to me about her from my own mouth, so I guess that's what this ramble is.

If you send me anything about Lily Orchard it will not be addressed. I am not a part of her life not even through our mutual friends. I do not know or care what's going on with her public/personal life. I haven't kept up. I will never keep up. Don't treat me as an extension of the situation because I am not in the situation. In the most plainly stated sense of the word: Leave me the Hell alone. (...pretty please.)

All I've wanted this entire time was to be left alone to process everything in a healthy, peaceful way. I'm workin' on it.

[miradelletarot]

You want fluff? You want smut? you want pre-wedded bliss? you want sexy time during a thunderstorm?? Then LOOK NO FURTHER!

Slaps this post like it's the hood of a car This baby's got everything you need right under the hood! Just click the link and take 'er for a spin!

[look-at-the-stars-tonight]

the amount of effort that goes into figuring out what to cook and eat every day is RIDICULOUS. i used to think people were so weird and boring for eating the same thing every single day but it truly does make life so much easier

[torgawl]

i'm too mentally unwell for this (people shoving ragbros angst in my face at 10 am)

[ayonixanimations]

Finished Sumeru a week ago and...

I can't stop thinking about Corrupt/Forbidden Knowledge!Alhaitham from Genshin- AUGH it's so good. I'm so fucking hungry, I'm starting to reread fics I've already read about the subject T^T I'm starving please feed me more that are actually about the angst of the situation rather than the smut *sob*. I don't care about the smut I want him to SUFFER. (Even though I love him)

If my hyperfixation doesn't stop soon I'm gonna release some cruel shit in the future.

I've already started thinking of fic ideas where Nahida hasn't deactivated the Akasha yet and his keeps flashing and turning red every once in a while, scrambling his thoughts. He realises something went wrong when he was "pretending" to go insane, and tries to figure it out himself, but he's losing himself more and more, and it's getting harder to pretend he's alright around others. It's partially his pride that won't let him tell others what's going on, but partially because he doesn't think it's necessary to worry them. He made the mistake, so he'll fix it. It's only when he scares Kaveh, and the other comments on the red that he admits there's a problem he can't solve quick enough.

God damn it my brain is COOKING.

[girl-with-bones]

Tumblr is so fun because there are a billion and one discussions happening at any given time and the nature of the Internet in 2024 is that any comment on any topic must apply to all of them at once and if they don't then that entire person is bad and evil and untouchable and irredeemable and

[scribblingface]

looking after an elderly animal is so much

[flootzavut]

This is your irregular reminder that if you are frustrated with a fic not being finished with, it's not just probable but likely that your pet fanwriter is more frustrated with it than you could ever be. Be nice to your pet fanwriter, it's tough out there when the muse isn't talking to you & life isn't going well. Please don't assume we just don't care or have abandoned stories without saying so, & bear in mind that approaching comments with that attitude is also absolutely the worst way to achieve your desired result. Absolutely nothing is as dispiriting to me personally as getting a comment that's just complaining that something hasn't been updated, or badgering me about something that hasn't been explained yet.

That's not to say that you can't ask for updates! I love when people are excited to read more. Just don't demand, don't act entitled, don't assume your pet fanwriter just couldn't be arsed.

Ways to ask that don't make me want to throw something:

"I loved this story, I'm subscribing!"

"I can't wait to see what happens next, I really enjoyed XYZ thing that happened in this chapter."

"I'd love to see more in this 'verse, but I really enjoyed this."

"[if you're a writer, any kind of empathetic understanding that writer's block sucks]."

"[Almost any kind of real review] Looking forward to more/Can't wait for the next chapter!"

Basically, let your pet fanwriter know what you enjoyed, let them know that you're excited for more, but don't act like you paid them for a complete story and only got half. We write fanfic for free, for love of the show/book/media and for love of the fandom. We get paid in kudos and comments only. We have lives, some of them more conducive to turning out fic regularly than others. We too have been affected by the pandemic and other shit that's happening in the world.

And I cannot overstate this, so I'm saying it again: complaining, demanding, etc, do not get you the result you want. Well okay, there may be a few people out there for whom someone stomping into their inbox and going "WHERE'S THE NEXT CHAPTER?" will work, but they're the exception, not the rule. I have talked with at the very least dozens and dozens, if not hundreds, of fanwriters over multiple fandoms, and I've yet to meet one who gets a comment like that and is inspired to go to their word processor. At best, it makes them go "ahhh shit I guess it's been a while since I updated that"; at worst (and in my experience most common), it puts them off writing that particular story or possibly anything, because the only feedback they're getting is "not good enough, not fast enough, you owe me more" and that sucks.

(If you know the person very, very well and know they will take it as a joke or that they are one of the few who gets inspired by this, that's the exception, but don't do it on stories written by people who are strangers to you.)

Frankly, you're much, much more likely to prod your pet fanwriter into creating more by typing "♥️" and hitting the kudos button than by trying to guilt them into it. Guilt doesn't work. Encouragement does. If your desired end result is "they finish the story" then "why haven't you finished the story/where is the next chapter/update soon" is absolutely not going to achieve that. It's helping absolutely no one.

Train yourself to leave a heart or a "loved this, can't wait for more" or even just a kudos instead of a demand, and you at the very least have not made your fanwriter feel useless that day, and might have inspired them go back to the coalface.

At the end of the day, it boils down to treating your pet fanwriter as a human whose life probably doesn't revolve solely around updating the one fic you're obsessed with. Have a heart, that's all 🙂

[aftermathing]

.

[tuningknight]

fuck this all i'm not going on twitter for a while. i don't want to hear any of you talking about mainstream music artists ever again

[ikishima]

.

[hippo-pot]

i watched Barbie because they made an ASL-interpreted version (with a Deaf interpreter, as they should) and i was like oh okay, even if i don't think i'll LOVE the movie, this should be a fun way to get some ASL receptive practice. unfortunately it was only fun for like 20 min. did not enjoy the movie

[ghost-of-someone]

literally just saw some radfem bullshit on my dash, & then when I went to their blog to block them not only was it full of anti-trans half arguments & accusations of other people being childish, but one of the very first posts was about how a certain show would be better if one of the main characters was a young woman instead of an old man because they "don't like old people"

[byanyan]

@chronal-anomaly sent:ㅤShe knows holidays are difficult for them. They're difficult for her too, in a different way, with Christmas spent celebrating in freezing tents while distant sounds of war rocked the Earth beneath them. Then it was days spent at the VA, surrounded by friends and family alike. Lena always enjoyed the feeling of coming together, but there was always a part of her that ached for something of her own. Something of her own came true, crashing through her window and stealing her booze and fighting over the TV remote. A wet cat of a sibling, all claws and hissing comments, that chose her to curl up against. And Lena was so incredibly grateful for them, a balm against the yawn of independent loneliness that had followed her since discharging. Lena knew that holidays were hard for them, surrounded by the promise of what they should have had as a kid. Safety. Security. Love and appreciation and gifts. So Lena decided that Christmas would be whenever they returned to her flat next, where she had finger food and snacks waiting, cubed ham and leftover prime rib from the VA Christmas party, and three small gifts waiting on the table for them. In the first one, a decent multi tool with some heft, complete with two knives, a pair of scissors, pliers, some screwdrivers, and a litany of other random but helpful tools. The second, a gift certificate for a few free nights at a nearby hotel, and a gift card for their local delivery service, for those nights they had to get away. And the third gift, a large, awkward box sitting in the middle of the table. Lena had spent the most time working on it, pulling out ancient leather tools from a bag in the back of her closet. It was a custom harness, just like hers, designed for tagging and spray painting. A large D loop sat in front, just over the pelvis, to clip onto a safety rig. Other loops surrounded the rest of the harness, intended to clip bags onto, and three braces designed to hold active paint cans sat on the right and left hip, and against the lower back. A large buckle sat in the front and between the legs so it would be adjustable for them to be comfortable. And just before wrapping it up, she had dyed the whole harness a dazzling pink and red, complete with sparkles. Stars and other bright marks were stamped into the leather around the belt, marking it as their own. Merry Christmas, Byan.

ㅤit's the evening of the twenty-fifth when they show up at her window again, only a few days since they last came around, and with only the softest amount of hesitation due to the holiday attached to the date. ...and maybe also a little bit due to not wanting to have the gift they left for her addressed in any way, shape, or form.

not sure that lena will even be home, uncertain as to whether or not she has plans they aren't aware of with people they don't know about, byan approaches their usual entry point as they would on any other day: expecting nothing and perfectly content to have company or have the place to themself. some of the lights are on, but that doesn't always mean anything; not when she often leaves one or two running just in case they do show up. pulling the unlocked window open with habitual ease, they clamber through the same way they always do, the soles of their boots squeaking in the wet spot they've created as they turn in place to close the cold off once more.

ㅤㅤ" ey, lena, you home? "ㅤvoice raised so it can be heard through the entire flat, they begin shedding themself of all their layers — their backpack hits the floor first with a dull thump, quickly followed by their coat, gloves, and beanie, all tossed into a treacherous pile atop their bag. boots kicked off last, left to sit in the small, growing puddle of snow and mud which melts off of them, byan steps through the familiar surroundings, smoothing down ruffled hair with both hands and tying it all back with an elastic pulled from their wrist. a delayed and rather muffled call in response to their greeting draws a cursory glance down the hallway before they're continuing on their way to the kitchen for a snack.

it feels like it's just any other day and, for the briefest of moments, they almost forget that it's christmas, almost forget the present that they left for her in earnest, and almost forget that fear of her drawing attention to it and the obvious love and care it's representative of.

ㅤ—that is, until they step into the kitchen only to have it all slapped in their face with the sight of a small pile of presents sitting on the table.

freezing in the doorframe, all byan can do is stare in a stunned, wide-eyed silence. immediately, the thought 'don't be stupid, those aren't for you' echoes through their mind, urging them to drop their hopes back down to the floor. it wouldn't be the first time they were fooled by a stack of gifts left sitting around, after all. would be the first time it happened after the age of ten, though. but lena has friends and colleagues, people in her life other than them, and surely these are simply the gifts she hasn't been able to deliver yet. she's given them gifts before, sure — incredibly meaningful ones which they still treasure — but they've never expected any and still don't. it's going to be embarrassing when they walk over and see unfamiliar names on the gift tags, but at least she isn't in the room to witness them dashing their own stupid hopes.

circling the table like a nervous kitten who isn't quite sure of what to make of a new toy left on the floor, they cast an almost wary glance over their shoulder just in case lena and her scarily silent footsteps have managed to sneak up on them again. with no sign of her, and them now being close enough to catch a glimpse of the writing scrawled on each of the gifts, byan leans over in a failed attempt at nonchalance and scans for the names. then reads them again. —no, no, one more time, because they have to be misreading it.

ㅤㅤㅤ...byan. they all say byan.

caught up in processing this, they're only jerked back to the present by the excited click-clacking of chickadee's approaching footsteps, presumably with lena not far behind. the dog comes trotting in to the room, making a beeline straight for them, and although bewilderment still marks their features, byan doesn't do anything to stop the smile that spreads. in spite of their shock and the muddle of numerous other emotions all battling to take center stage, they drop to a crouch as chickadee comes closer, hands reaching out to rub the sides of her face in greeting.

ㅤㅤ" hey you. "ㅤa laugh escaping in a quiet chuff, they scrub their hands vigorously along her face and neck, head turning to the side with another bubble of laughter when she tries to lick their face in a greeting of her own. although they've allowed themself to be distracted, the teen watches out of the corner of their eye as lena moves toward the fridge and reaches inside. the sound seems to get the dog's attention as well, her head whipping around as her attention is thoroughly diverted. chickadee pads over to where lena rummages around, and byan slowly rises back to their feet, gaze flitting for a fraction of a second to the presents before finding lena once more.

ㅤㅤ" you— "ㅤthey begin, hooking a thumb toward the table with a dubious and almost nervous look now marking their features, only to find themself cut short in their attempted protest by a brusque shushing. mouth hanging open, body still, byan's eyebrows furrow, but all lena does is pull out a tray of various finger foods and smile warmly. there's a nod toward the table, and then she's gone, taking the food to the living room with chickadee quick on her heels.

ㅤ...damn. she's good. and she knows them far too well. knows that they'll try to protest an act of kindness, that they'll need time to process, and that they're as uncomfortable being watched opening gifts as they are directly delivering them. that's what they assume she's doing, anyway — giving them space — once they hear her settle down on the couch the next room over, leaving them alone with the presents she's now directed them toward.

practically bracing themself, byan looks back to the gifts stacked on the table and slowly sidles closer. there's no denying the little thrill of looking down at them all and wondering what's inside, the same way there's no denying the tightness in their throat that comes with knowing that lena picked all of it out for them. tentatively, they reach out for the first, the one closest to their hand, and pick it up. the heft of it has them instantly concluding that it's probably a knife and, once the paper has been shed, they think they're right. ...for all of a second. they aren't wrong, exactly, but they realize it's more than just that as they find themself pulling a variety of different tools free of the base and end up laughing to themself by the time they reach the third screwdriver. well, lena never did love their fondness for knives. they suppose that this way, she probably feels less like she's giving them a weapon. and they can't say that the multitude of tools won't come in handy, even if it is a lot less fun than, say, a new butterfly knife.

when they move on to the second gift, they no longer know what to anticipate. even with all the time in the world, they'd have never thought a free hotel room and food, much less multiple nights in a hotel. after reading the gift certificate several times over, byan is left dumbfounded, gazing down at it while they bite at the inside of their cheek, willing away the returning lump in their throat. they've never stayed in a hotel — at least, not that they can remember — but even they know that that shit's expensive for even just one night. more than one night and a gift card for delivery and there's still one more, much bigger gift waiting to be opened? what the fuck is she on, spending this kind of money on them? on some random fucking kid she has no relation to and no reason to care for?

for all of a moment, they come close to grabbing their things and running out the door. it's too much, it's too much, they don't deserve this, there's no reason for it—

ㅤ...and then they take a breath. remember all the hours they poured into not only lena's christmas gift, but all the others they've made for her as well. remember all the other things that she's done for them that she had no business doing; the way she's opened up her home to them, and the way she's listened with absolutely no judgement in those moments where they've needed to get something off their chest.

they think of her as a sister at this point, it's just... sometimes weird and kind of hard to remember that that goes both ways. she thinks of them as a sibling too, and that's okay. —it's better than okay, it's great. she's become their family, and they... have to work on accepting that.

still fighting the urge to take flight, yet relaxing some again, byan sniffs as they find that tears are now dangerously close to falling. tongue pinched between teeth as they beat back their emotions with a baseball bat made entirely of their own pride and shame — a bat that may as well squeak with the way it seems to fold against that which it's meant to fight — they swallow around the ever-growing lump in their throat and wipe at their eyes with the fuzzy pink sleeve of their sweatshirt. gift certificate set next to the multi tool because they can't handle looking at it any longer, dark eyes fall on the final, most mysterious package. with the way everything else has hit them... they're almost afraid to open it and find out what's inside. tempted to leave it, even. to step out onto the balcony and get absolutely zooted so they have an excuse to leave it unopened for the time being.

ㅤcuriosity, however, gets the better of them. as it so often does.

back to biting the inside of their cheek, byan tears through the wrapping paper, hoping desperately that this is some joke gift so they can laugh and stop dwelling on all the things they don't want to address or acknowledge. but that would be hoping for too much with a gift from lena, wouldn't it?

the crinkling of the paper stops abruptly the moment the box is opened to reveal the harness inside. identical to the one which they've admired every time she's pulled it out, perfect for tagging places they'd never been able to reach and doing pieces bigger than they've ever been able to before, but personalized specifically for them in its vibrant pink and its sparkles and its other very visible and present markings across the leather. god fucking dammit. of course the last one would not only be the biggest physically, but the biggest time and effort investment on her part, and biggest emotional impact on theirs. they have to hand it to her, she's a goddamn pro. no amount of biting or blinking or backing away and pacing across the room is enough to stop the tears from spilling now, and they have half a mind to be real fucking pissed right about now.

when lena has the audacity to come walking into the kitchen about fifteen minutes later like everything is completely normal, the harness is still sitting in its box and byan is all but flying at her. before she has a chance to react (or to look at their still very red eyes), they're wrapping around her in a constricting hug, hands bunching in the back of her shirt.

ㅤㅤ" fuck you. "ㅤcursing her out in a wet half laugh with no real hostility present in their tone, they swallow thickly and shut their eyes tight. damn her for taking everything they ever learned about the world and turning it on it's head. damn her for actually caring and making them feel loved. damn her for being so stupidly fucking thoughtful and making them think that maybe they are worth something. damn her for making them feel things and for making them cry like some pathetic child over the simplest things on more than one occasion!!

ㅤㅤ" what the fuck. like, what the fuck?? "ㅤvoice catching slightly on the repeat, byan gives lena a weak shake inside the hug before closing their arms even tighter around her and making a face into her shoulder. it's an expression of how much they like the gifts, how much all of it means to them, just... not in so many words. they think she'll get it though, considering how well she so obviously knows them.ㅤ" i hate you. thank you. —can we have dinner now? 'cause otherwise i'm prob'ly gonna break somethin'. "ㅤㅤi love you.

[non-un-topo]

Have to thank my partner for realizing before I did that talking about kids with people makes me extremely dysphoric --- whereas I thought I just had a problem and hated children or something lol