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(Inspired by a poll posted by @hotvintagepoll)

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Thomas Barrow in every episode»2.1 “Thank you for my deliverance.”

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Here’s something I don’t see writers practicing enough: how big things can permanently change your character.

I see people putting their characters through war, abusive relationships, health disorders, and intense grief. Since popular writers often fail here, I hope you guys are also considering how these things will affect your character in the long run. I don’t mean “Oh, they have bad dreams now and are jerks to everyone, but only for a little while.” I mean has their entire outlook on life changed dramatically, and if so how? Does it show? Do they try to hide it and move on, or do they accept that this is who they are now? Does it take them a long time or a short time to realize things can never again be the way they were? How does that affect them? Do they choose to keep this new personality, or do they try to change it?

Not everyone wants to acknowledge this type of development in a character because it gets in the way of their plans or disrupts plot. Also, some characters are made of stern stuff or are just flexible enough to survive with their personality intact. Yet, major events in a story should leave a noticeable impact on a character, the more personal the event generally the bigger the personality change.

Just think about it if you haven’t already, y'know?

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Bumper sticker I saw on my walk today

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Lord, grant me the strength to throw away this box that i'll never use, the courage to throw away this box that i'll never use, and the wisdom to throw away this box that i'll never use

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🌗 Into Tartarus // Out of Tartarus 🔥

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according to an ad I just saw it's now unmanly to ... wear layers

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@vintagetvstars jeremy brett is currently in the quarterfinals of the hot tv men tournament! if y'all need a break, 1) get off this app but 2) if that's impossible go look at some hot men.

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Let America Be America Again

by Langston Hughes

Let America be America again. Let it be the dream it used to be. Let it be the pioneer on the plain Seeking a home where he himself is free.

(America never was America to me.)

Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed– Let it be that great strong land of love Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme That any man be crushed by one above.

(It never was America to me.)

O, let my land be a land where Liberty Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath, But opportunity is real, and life is free, Equality is in the air we breathe.

(There’s never been equality for me, Nor freedom in this “homeland of the free.”)

Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark? And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?

I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart, I am the Negro bearing slavery’s scars. I am the red man driven from the land, I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek– And finding only the same old stupid plan Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.

I am the young man, full of strength and hope, Tangled in that ancient endless chain Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land! Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need! Of work the men! Of take the pay! Of owning everything for one’s own greed!

I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil. I am the worker sold to the machine. I am the Negro, servant to you all. I am the people, humble, hungry, mean– Hungry yet today despite the dream. Beaten yet today–O, Pioneers! I am the man who never got ahead, The poorest worker bartered through the years.

Yet I’m the one who dreamt our basic dream In the Old World while still a serf of kings, Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true, That even yet its mighty daring sings In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned That’s made America the land it has become. O, I’m the man who sailed those early seas In search of what I meant to be my home– For I’m the one who left dark Ireland’s shore, And Poland’s plain, and England’s grassy lea, And torn from Black Africa’s strand I came To build a “homeland of the free.”

The free?

Who said the free? Not me? Surely not me? The millions on relief today? The millions shot down when we strike? The millions who have nothing for our pay? For all the dreams we’ve dreamed And all the songs we’ve sung And all the hopes we’ve held And all the flags we’ve hung, The millions who have nothing for our pay– Except the dream that’s almost dead today.

O, let America be America again– The land that never has been yet– And yet must be–the land where every man is free. The land that’s mine–the poor man’s, Indian’s, Negro’s, ME– Who made America, Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain, Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain, Must bring back our mighty dream again.

Sure, call me any ugly name you choose– The steel of freedom does not stain. From those who live like leeches on the people’s lives, We must take back our land again, America!

O, yes, I say it plain, America never was America to me, And yet I swear this oath– America will be!

Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death, The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies, We, the people, must redeem The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers. The mountains and the endless plain– All, all the stretch of these great green states– And make America again!

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Is this anything

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Do you play daily NY Times games like Wordle, Connections, Spelling Bee, or Strands? The NYT Tech Guild workers who make those games possible are currently ON STRIKE and asking you to not cross the digital picket line.

Spread the word! For other ways to help, you can also contribute to their strike fund here.

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Tumblr Tuesday: BOOps—A Retrospective

BOOps! You love 'em. Halloween brought you some spooky cat paws, and you all had a great time chasing those most ephemeral of joys. With the spooky BOOp-a-thon now relegated to recent memory, here's a retrospective of some of the fanart you made along the way. A soft boop to you all, and may we all blog to boop again.

@iotaknow:

@vicrosearts:

@okcassin:

@rito-otir:

@needlepine:

@void-ink-studios:

@tenspontaneite:

@lexosaurus:

@pommigranite:

@humming-fly:

@codacontainmentbreach:

@allhailleila:

@astronautrobot:

@possumtion:

@micorriko:

@crazycatbunker:

@misspelled-magic:

@karkod:

@canvyy:

@soulswordlesbian:

@art-emis99:

@vulchak:

@blanq:

@drempen:

@krowfaced:

@violencerarelyknocks:

@snakesinsocks2005:

@foldmorepaper:

@serenity-black:

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I am reading scholarly works about Jane Austen and having hearteyes about obscure details in the Pemberley chapters of P&P that indicate Mr. Darcy’s sustainable land management praxis.

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“google is free” actually now that you can’t turn off ai answers google is 5.6 billion gallons of water.

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You ruined a perfectly hot middle aged man by giving him abs