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has anyone noticed recently that it's expensive

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Selling a "Become human" potion to a Bison with eerily human eyes and smiling knowingly at it , and six years later a robed person with kind eyes sells a "Become bison" potion to me and tells me to take it "when the time is right" , 3 more years later and I accidentally take it (thought it was beer) while drunkenly TRYING to forcefem an ant outside (rubbed pheromones on it and put it back in anthill) , obv i turn into a bison , scare the absolute precum out of my neighbors, but feel a quaint tranquility when i begin grazing

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It's so crazy how "Don't feed the trolls" was like the Motto of the internet & in forum culture of the 00s and early 10s and now you log onto a certain website and it's just an endless sea of people pouring gruel into the troll trough day in day out and no one seems to realize or care that their internet experience being a constant deluge of misery and bad faith discussion might in fact be their own fault

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The three kinds of bird species name

1. God’s Specialist Little Boy

2. Hot Breasted Milf

3. Grey Bird With Brown Head

4. Walter’s Fingernail

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"you can use ai to improve spelling and grammar"

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when i first heard about the male loneliness epidemic i was like oh yeah close camaraderie and bonding between men is often discouraged in favor of competition or, if not discouraged, at least filtered through a lens of individualism that precludes deep connections. and then i learned what people meant by it (men arent getting laid) to which i say skill issue

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Why do you even care about trans women? You're not even one of them.

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and what are we going to do when the HP series comes out and we start seeing a resurgence of the fandom here including gifsets and fics. like are u guys gonna bring up your neurodivergence and cry "can we separate the art from the artist!!!!! you dont need to pay to watch it!!!!!its my comfort show and I'm DEPRESSED and AUTISTIC"

what then

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it’s you or me

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in case you were wondering if anyone will remember your random acts of kindness:

when i was in kindergarten, i met a boy named jordan. i don’t remember meeting him. i remember knowing him when, one day before dismissal, he came up and asked if he could be my friend. i was a painfully shy kid, and he was friendly and fun and talked a lot, so i said yes. we were the kind of friends that kindergarteners are: buddies during snack time, sharing the best crayons when we colored, and never even thinking that it could go outside of the walls of our school. it was fine. it was great. i had a friend. he’s the first friend i ever made on my own. he’s the first person who made me realise that i could.

my next clear memory of jordan comes when i was in fourth grade. in the morning, i was talking to kristen, who was one of my only friends at that point. she was looking forward to gym, because it was dodgeball day. i was not; i was always picked last in gym class, no matter who the team captains were. you don’t pick the slow-moving kid with glasses if you want to win, and grade-schoolers can be cruel. jordan heard, though; i remember that, because i remember him looking at me as i pointed out how much i wasn’t looking forward to gym, and i remember my cheeks burning because this popular kid heard about my problems.

we had lunch, and math, and finally gym to round out the day. gym, and dodgeball, and riley being one captain, and jordan being the other. and jordan, who won the coin toss, who got his pick of any kid in our class, picking me first. he didn’t even hesitate. he called my name, he pointed to me, and he smiled at me when i walked up to stand next to him. when riley laughed and picked derek for his team and taunted jordan about how he was going to lose, jordan laughed right back and told him that with me on his team, he was definitely going to win. (i don’t remember if we won or not. we probably didn’t. all i remember is not hating dodgeball for one day, and that was enough.)

fast-forward another few years, to another gym class in another school. we were doing baseball, which was my own personal hell in seventh grade. my eyesight hadn’t gotten any better, and i was too tall, too skinny, too out of touch with how to move my limbs to possibly make the bat and the ball connect. rules were rules, though, and no matter how far back in the batting line i stood, nobody was allowed to go back in the building until everyone had a chance. i made myself last every chance i could, because by that point anyone who was interested in the sport had gotten their fill and wandered away, and it didn’t matter that i stuck my elbows out and hunched over the plate and swung and swung and swung at balls that kept whizzing by me and smacking into the fence.

this day, though, this day was the worst day, because i had to be in the middle of the lineup. i don’t remember why; i only remember the sick feeling in my stomach, the feeling that the class would laugh at me as i stood there praying i didn’t move the wrong way and get hit with the ball. when i got up to home plate, i grabbed the bat and stood there and stared at the pitching mound, and jordan smiled back at me. i was clearly nervous; it was no secret that i hated gym, wasn’t any good at it. there were two kids on bases in the field, and someone in the back made a comment about striking me out; one of the kids on base groaned about how he was just going to steal home. jordan kept smiling as he walked off the mound, came up next to me, and quietly asked if he could show me how to hold the bat, how to stand. he demonstrated how to swing, and told me to just try to hit it gently. “just like this,” he said, and held the bat out in front of himself. bunting. i knew the name, even if i’d never been able to pull it off before. “hold it there. you’ll hit the ball.”

i nodded. i didn’t care. i wanted it to be over with.

he walked back to the mound, looked back and me, and then took a few steps forward. “just like i said,” he told me, and i nodded again. he tossed the ball very gently, and i held the bat out, and miracle of miracles, i bunted the ball. “run, run,” he yelled, making a ridiculous dive for the ball, kicking it out of the way of any of the outfielders who were catching on and heading for it. “first base!”

i ran. i made it to first base. i laughed, because i had never been able to do that before, and jordan turned and smiled at me before returning to the mound and striking out the next three people at bat, one right after the other.

now consider this: i met jordan almost twenty-five years ago. i remember these things, these small kindnesses, the things he didn’t have to do but did anyway. he probably doesn’t remember doing any of them. he probably doesn’t even remember me, at this point, and that’s fine. i remember his kindness when there wasn’t a ton to be had, and i remember him smiling when everyone else was laughing at me.

kindness matters. thanks for being kind, jordan. and to everyone else who has been kind, to me or to someone else: thank you, too. your kindness is noted, is appreciated, is remembered.

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The agony of thinking you’re finished doing the dishes only to turn around and to your horror: the pot.

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I need to get this off my chest before I go INSANE.

"You are not immune to propaganda"

This is the main thought I have when people are talking about Effie.

Effie is a clear example of that and people are kinda missing the point.

Suzanne take time to establish that not all Capitol citizens are pure evil, even if they're not rebels. We see it in Katniss' stylists, the girl in the lemon coat, countless kids that died in that bombing, people who died at the hands of both Peacekeepers and rebels alike.

We see it in Effie.

Over the course of the series, Katniss learns that capitol citizens are humans, ones that were put under years upon years of propaganda, with no knowledge on how to behave differently.

The whole message of the series is "remember who the real enemy is". It's the higher powers oppressing people, not common people living privileged life. That is why Katniss shoots Coin, that is why Games, of any kind, had to stop.

Some people focus too much on Effie being typical capitolite, and miss the crucial element of what she is representing. She is a picture of a person who lived their whole life under propaganda and could only break away from it when faced with real facts that contradicted it. Katniss and Peeta being reaped again, shattered Effie's view on Games, making her see through the propaganda.

It doesn't make Effie evil to change only after that.

Sotr also established that Trinkets are an ostracized family, one that is least likely to rebel since they'd be the first ones to go. They need to keep being in the system to survive, they need to comply or they die.

The difference between propaganda in Captiol and Districts is simple.

Districts are confronted with harsh reality daily, Capitol isn't.

That's why propaganda in the Capitol is more effective and why it's harder to break away from it. We cannot judge those characters as if they have access to all the information we have, since it's simply not true.

Effie is a woman in a situation where it's hard to break from the hold of Capitol, from the information that's being fed to her, you have to remember that.

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the generational curse the hanging tree song put on the chance family needs to be studied because what do you mean THE hanging tree guy's name was arlo chance and the boy who ran on reaping day was woodbine chance what

and while we're on the subject, THE hanging tree song guy's love who he told to run so they'd both be free was a girl named lil with a brother named spruce who was involved with D12's underground rebellion. and what is a spruce? a tree. not just any tree, no, a fuckin evergreen tree. so while im beating my head against this wall im going to assume lil is short for lily. lily and spruce everdeen

are we deadass right now

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