#demand good writing
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
zee-rambles · 2 years ago
Note
Hey...... uh... like I know we want rise back, but like. Maybe not right now... becuase like, there's. You know. The Writer Strike Going On. If they start making the show again, right now, it's going to be trash
Tumblr media
@margoteve
I see you guys…and yeah…that is tough. I am supporting the WGA strike as much as I can…and looking for places to donate what little I have (college is expensive, heh!).
We can’t stop now. We need to keep interest up, prove that people LOVE Rise of the TMNT, otherwise Nickelodeon will not hesitate to pull the plug and shut the door. Nickelodeon will most likely wait until AFTER Mutant Mayhem to make any big decisions about Rise.
And Nickelodeon is looking for ANY reason to give up on Rise. If we stop supporting it, they won’t think it’s because we’re supporting WGA. If fact, none of the big companies, that have shows to sell, will think that way. They will see viewership and interest in Rise go down. They will listen to the numbers and think of it as no more then a phase that does not need to be invested in. When Rise was airing, bad faith reviews were what Nickelodeon listened to, not the small amount of fans saying it’s good, not the fact that covid was happening, not the fact that they did not put it on TV enough, not the fact that they then moved it to another channel that not a lot of people have or watch.
They’re not going to start working on Rise right away, especially since they’re pushing for a new project. BUT, that does NOT mean we should give up. And this is super important. Nickelodeon will be looking to see if interest in Rise persists AFTER The Mutant Mayhem movie, and if people don’t keep coming into the fan base and keeping it alive until then, then it has NO chance. If Both Rise and Mutant Mayhem don’t persist together, then Nickelodeon will prioritize one over the other. They will dismiss Rise as over because another series came up and took its place.
Even if Rise got renewed now…it would still be a bit before we see anything of it. It takes time to create a show. And I hope that, by the time Rise IS saved, WGA would succeed. I SO want WGA to get the respect it deserves. As someone that always wanted to be a writer/creator, I want more then anything for WGA to succeed, because Hollywood needs writers to make its magic work.
All we can do is KEEP RISE GOING STRONG, show that there is interest, that there is demand. And if it DOES get renewed…then it’s up to US to make our demands known. The same way people screamed at paramount until they changed Sonic the Hedgehog’s design, fans need to scream at Nickelodeon to make Rise something of quality. Tell them we want Andy Suriano, Ant Ward, JJ Conway, and as much of the OG cast and crew back, as possible. TELL them we WANT them to support WGA.
Look, right now, I want Rise to come back more then anything, and I fully believe it can return the way we want it to. It takes an ocean of voices to flood that tower of greed that we call corporations. All we can do is keep making that wave bigger. And hopefully, by then, WGA would have succeeded in their take over. So support both!
SUPPORT WGA! SUPPORT RISE! SUPPORT ARTISTS! SUPPORT WRITERS! Don’t stop fighting for the shows you love! (If Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance came back, I would flip my LID!) Get out there on social media and TELL people that you won’t support ANY show unless it’s good and the writers are respected.
105 notes · View notes
maximura · 5 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
581 notes · View notes
luxaofhesperides · 1 year ago
Text
"I see you, and I love you" + hurt/comfort ; requested by @oops-i-dropped-the-galaxy!
Danny can handle being a halfa. He’s had years to get used to it, switching between dead and alive, living boy and ghost, always living in flux. He’s settled into his identity as one of the few halfas in existence, navigating the living world and the Infinite Realms with ease after years of practice.
What he can’t handle is becoming an Ancient.
Apparently, while most Ancients are born into the role, ruling over their domain, some can grow into it. It’s rare, practically unheard of, but not impossible.
Danny is growing into the Ancient of Stars, changed from the inside out by his love of space. 
He would be happy if it didn’t hurt so much.
Danny can’t sleep at night anymore. When the stars are out, he can hear them singing, each windchime voice echoing through his ears. Though he can’t see them from beneath Gotham’s cloud cover, he can feel them shining brightly far above him. 
He lays in bed with Duke, curled up in his side, trying to muffle his whimpers as his bones creak and hollow, his soul growing too large for his body to handle. He is space contained in a human body. It wants to be free, to stretch from its suffocating confines and fill every dark space with cold light. His skin feels too tight and his teeth ache. 
All Danny can do is clench his jaw, wrap his arms around his stomach as tightly as he can, and try to weather through the pain of changing.
The agony of it comes in waves. He doesn’t know how long it takes until it recedes enough for him to feel like he can breathe again, trying to suck air in as his lungs are crushed by his ribcage. Slowly, Danny pushes himself up, taking care not to wake Duke, and stumbles out of bed. His throat is dry and feels as if its been scraped raw by sandpaper, and all he wants is water.
He gets halfway down the hall when the next wave hits.
Danny collapses, gasping for breath, and can only watch through tear-filled eyes as his fingers go dark, the same black as deep space. His body shifts, bones cracking and muscles stretching like taffy, and suddenly he’s big larger than life a galaxy a black hole there is darkness everywhere it is alive it is full of stars the stars are singing the stars are singing the stars are si
“Danny? Hey, sweetheart, are you okay?”
That’s Duke’s voice. He’d recognize it anywhere, even from miles away, even when he’s sure he doesn’t have ears anymore. It takes all his effort to pull himself back to Earth, back into their apartment, blinking up at Duke as the stars in his eyes fade away. 
Duke kneels before him, concern clear on his face, gentle hands reaching out to hold Danny steady. The feel of his warmth grounds him, keeps him more securely in his body. The pull of space is still there, tugging at him, trying to pull him out of humanity and into the form of an Ancient, but Danny can resist it so long as Duke keeps him tethered to the ground.
“It hurts,” he croaks, shivering.
“Shh, I know, baby. How can I help? What do you need?”
Danny leans forward, burying his face in Duke’s chest as tears slip out of his eyes. “It hurts,” he says again, voice shaking. “I keep changing and growing and my entire body is being torn apart and—” he gasps, cutting himself off. “I keep disappearing. I don’t want to disappear. I want to stay here but it takes me away and then I’m too big and no one can see me and I’m alone—”
“You’re not alone, Danny,” Duke says, holding him tightly as if his arms will be enough to keep Danny from breaking out of his own body, ridding himself of a mortal vessel, his only remaining tie to this world. “I see you, and I love you. Even if you have to change and go far away to be happy, I’ll find a way to follow you there, okay? I’m with you for as long as you want me.”
“I don’t want to hurt so much,” Danny whimpers, black fingers speckled with stardust clawing at Duke’s arms. 
“Just breathe through it, sweetheart, you can do it. Let it pass through you. I got you, okay? Just let the pain pass and you’ll be fine.”
He wants to snap at Duke that it’s not fine, that the pain will be forever, it’ll linger in every one of his joints, that he can’t just stop fighting it because it’ll hurt even worse then. But his jaws are aching, his teeth sharpening, and there’s a black hole in his throat that he refuses to let loose. He lets out another pained whine, shivering, and in his chest a star is formed, burning bright and angry.
“Breathe, Danny, breathe,” Duke soothes, rubbing a hand up and down Danny’s back.
It’s habit to relax into his touch. They’ve spent so many nights working through night terrors and injuries, comforting each other through gentle touches. The pain eases a bit, and Danny sighs, frost on his breath. 
“There we go, sweetheart, that’s it. You’re doing just fine.”
Another tear slips down his face, but the ache in his entire body as his growing ghost form tries to escape begins to fade. 
He’s spent so many nights in pain, waiting for the sun to rise to muffle the singing of the stars. If he can get any relief, he’ll take it, even if it means losing his human form.
Danny stops fighting. His resistance to this change falls away. There’s a moment where the pain disappears entirely, the world going still, but before he can let out a relieved sigh, the change hits him like an asteroid, sudden and instant and inevitable.
A cry is ripped from his throat, but it doesn’t sound like him. It echoes, deep and inhuman, and suddenly Danny is every dark space surrounding the stars, the arms of every galaxy, suns burning bright and dying, supernova, cold and ice and the slow drifting of planets in orbit. His body grows, expands, no longer a ghost but an Ancient, body curling into itself to stay within the walls of the too small apartment, large hands cupped around Duke to keep him safe. 
He can feel the cold of space. Orbits dance in his mind. Meteorites and asteroids drift without pattern across his chest. Danny can see everything with too many eyes, and he can cup planets in his palms, so much larger than possibility. His chest opens and expands and his body can curl around Earth and keep it safe. 
He feels settled in this new body, senses stretched in every direction and the universe is so much lovelier than he could have ever experienced it in a halfa’s body. 
Danny, Ancient of the Stars, hums and the universe shivers, singing back to him.
The pain is gone completely. He wonders why he resisted so hard; this is what he’s meant to be. He’s never felt so right before.
“Danny?”
Duke’s voice is small, but only because he is small when compared to Danny in his Ancient form. 
Duke, he tries to say but his vocal chords have changed. Instead of words, a deep hum erupts from his throat, similar to the purr of a particularly large cat. 
“Hey, sweetheart. Feeling better?”
Danny nods, pulling himself back together to feel his body more keenly, no longer stretched across the universe, cradling every star in his reach. Duke reaches a hand up and Danny reaches back, folding himself back into his body. His human eyes return and he realizes the apartment is completely covered in darkness with stars sparkling all around them. It recedes as he fits himself back into his body, the black on his fingers fading away until his hand is indistinguishable from a normal human’s. 
He takes hold of Duke’s hand and tries to stand. His legs are weak and unsteady and he falls onto Duke, who catches him with ease and sweeps him up into a princess carry. 
“There you are, honey,” Duke says, voice warm and relieved. “You alright?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I feel a lot better.”
“Good. Do you need anything? Hot chocolate, heating pad, sleep?”
Danny thinks for a moment, then says, “Hot chocolate.”
“You got it. Let me just set you on the couch and I’ll have it out in a minute.”
He carefully sets Danny onto the couch, then tucks the blanket they keep folded over the back around him. Once he’s satisfied Danny is comfortable, Duke heads to the kitchen, flicking on the light as he does. 
Danny sinks into the couch cushions, carefully moving all his fingers and toes to make sure they’re fine. He’s a little sore, as if all his bones where put through the ringer, but it doesn’t feel any different from when he has a particularly rough training day. 
What’s more important that his physical body is the fact that he can feel his core, settled deep in his chest. It’s no longer the cold of ice, but it burns coldness, a white star embodying his soul, a changed core to reflect his transformation into an Ancient. 
A baby Ancient, technically. He still has some growing to do, but the rest should be easier and, hopefully, less painful.
He closes his eyes and begins to drift off when he hears Duke return. It takes some effort to open his eyes, and his smiles softly and sleepily when he sees Duke set down two steaming mugs of hot chocolate on the coffee table.
“Love you,” he mumbles, freeing a hand from the blanket to try to pull Duke down to join him.
Duke goes to him easily, sitting next to him and pulling Danny in to cuddle against him. It’s been so long since he last felt so comfortable at night, not writhing in pain and biting through his lip to keep quiet, that he can’t help but sink into it. A purr starts up in his chest, and Duke startles.
“Sweetheart, are you purring?”
Danny flushes and tries to hide his face. The purr doesn’t stop. He’s always been able to purr after becoming a halfa, though purr is just an easier way to describe it. It’s less of his vocal chords vibrating and more of his core rumbling in contentment. Usually, it’s unnoticeable, barely able to be felt let alone heard. Apparently, becoming an Ancient and therefore a much stronger ghost means his purrs are also stronger and louder.
“You’re so cute,” Duke says, pressing a kiss against Danny’s forehead. “Drink your hot chocolate, and then we can go back to sleep.”
He makes grabby hands at his mug, and Duke laughs and picks it up for him.
“Love you,” Danny repeats, voice less muffled.
“Love you, too,” Duke says. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
“I’m glad you were there to help me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“It’s a good thing you’ll never have to find out. I’ve got you, sweetheart, always.”
Believing him is the easiest thing Danny has ever done. If Duke says he’ll be there for, then he will. 
Always, always, always.
. . .
[send me ghostlights prompts!]
256 notes · View notes
tetzoro · 6 months ago
Text
good morning and happy tuesday friendz (ㅅ´ ˘ `) ! these little dudes and i are here to cheer you on to have the bestest day everrr ! ! 🩷💫
Tumblr media Tumblr media
36 notes · View notes
jerys · 2 months ago
Text
saw someone say 'wish he'd tried a little harder' under harry's post.................what if i started shooting people in the head
20 notes · View notes
lord-squiggletits · 4 days ago
Text
Honestly it annoys me that pride, ambition, and generally having a big ego are always villainous/evil-coded personality traits because personally I think if you genuinely are a prodigy at what you do you are 100% within your rights, perhaps even deserving, of flaunting your skills and being proud of the fact you can do something that only a small fraction of other people can do. Is it even ego at that point if you genuinely are as good at your field/skill as you say you are? Are people not aware that becoming a prodigy at something is something that takes lifelong sacrifice and practice sometimes to the point of giving up on having a normal life, relationships, etc even potentially destroying your own health???? God I fucking hate how pride in your own skills and ambition are so villain coded all the time. As if it's evil to want to be good at something and be recognized for what you rightfully earned
#squiggposting#this is part of why i like pharma obviously lol but it's happened to me w#other blorbos ive had in the past#bc like full offense if you're capable of doing something like partially inventing the cures to 5 different terminal diseases#in only a few months/a year of research. or if you can do an organ donation and replacement surgery#with yourself as one of the donors. you literally ARE the best doctor who has ever lived#and you DESERVE to flaunt it bc. what fucking achievement is higher than that???#some feats demand recognition in my opinion. maybe it's just bc I've always been competitive#and from a young age enjoyed a (relative) degree of fame for being really good at certain things#ive always enjoyed being an object of awe bc bitch i spent my whole life working to be this good#do i hold it over ppl or treat them badly for not being as good as me? i admit i used to but i grew out of it#but the ego? certainly not. i think if you're good at something you should own it#i think if you're a prodigy and put your skills into doing good work youve earned your fame and recognition#this expectation of false humility we have is sooooo annoying#ohhhh boo hoo pharma is a little bit of an annoying asshole about being a better doctor than ratchet#the cures he helped design will save literal thousands of lives from now until the rest of time#but somehow the way he FEELS about it is more important than the CONCRETE POSITIVE GAIN he put into the universe?#and also in general i hate it when ppl assume that pride/ego and being kind towards others are mutually exclusive#in general i feel like i could write an essay about how self vs others is treated as a dichotomy#where it's assumed that in order to uplift others you have to self efface and diminish yourself#or if you flaunt yourself it automatically means you're putting down others. it's not true.#video essay topic for later lol
15 notes · View notes
elizabethrobertajones · 6 months ago
Text
jump scared by the 4th Doctor saying "well" with an uncanny intonation to how 10 says it, except I thought that was just a David Tennant-ism considering he does it in everything eventually, like, that CAN'T have started with him copying this cadence and absorbing it into his being? Right?
32 notes · View notes
tgmsunmontue · 5 months ago
Text
What to write weekend (9-11 August)
Reply, DM or Ask (anon is on) with up to three letters/numbers and I promise to try and write at least 250 words for each one*.
Numbers:
Sagas of Solitude - 9/21
Season to Taste - 2/?
Letters:
A) Upon which our souls touch - 3/? B) I'd know you anywhere - 4/5? C) To wake, perchance to dream - 3/? H) From the top - 2/? I) Life is too short to waste time matching socks... - 3/? K) Caring, Keeping and Collecting Transformers - A Guide - 5/?
Trying to get some of these completed this weekend so have trimmed out the one-shots or ones I haven't started posting at all. Word count spreadsheet.
*Sometimes I run out of time, but if in future weekends I am flailing about what I should write, I look back and what ones I didn't manage to get to I then work on those.
23 notes · View notes
inbox-to-the-void · 9 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
Fresh's Theme: YOO I'LL TELL U WUT I WANT SO TELL ME WH Swap: FML
art source comes from here, fic made by @gaylordscooter
[IMAGE ID: A digital drawing of Swap Sans, visibly tense and hiding behind a broken wall. The wall is an almost-grey blue, the background is a slightly bluer and darker grey, Blue's background color is blue, and Swap's outlines are a paler version of his background. Behind the wall are rainbow all-capitilized words that switch color each line break. The words read "YOO I'LL TELL U WUT I WANT SO TELL ME WH", the words a reference to the beginning lyrics in Wannabe by Spice Girls. The rainbow words are cut off by the bottom of the broken wall. Swap's thought bubble background is his outline colour, while his speech bubble font color is colored in his background color. His thought bubble just reads "FML" in all caps. END ID]
36 notes · View notes
cineresis · 1 year ago
Text
Angels in America
It's amazing how fast an evening at your favorite club can be ruined by someone keeling over and frothing at the mouth. The band never quite gets back into the swing of things afterwards.
"Angel," sighed one of the men, or nearest approximants, at the table next to mine, "why is it that I can never go anywhere with you without stumbling across a body?"
"Oh, come now," said his partner, a soft, fluffy confection in caramel and cream, rising hastily to make his way toward the source of the commotion. The first gentleman, dark, lanky, and excruciatingly chic, got up to follow him. "It's hardly every time."
I stayed where I was for now, casting my gaze around the room as I went over my memory of the past twenty or thirty minutes. Too many people passing close enough to slip something into the victim's drink, too many others to watch at the same time, too many more opportunities to poison him outside my field of view. I was a detective, not God.
"Stumbling upon, once. Literally. Do you know what it's like to have to clean up after that sort of thing? It takes a personal toll."
"Hush, Crowley," chided "Angel". "People can hear you, and you know how queer they get about these things. Ooh, yes, that's strychnine, all right," he added cheerfully, pulling a small vial from his vest pocket and tipping it into his handkerchief. "Nasty stuff."
I got up. As I approached, I caught the faint, unmistakable chemical sweetness of ether fumes and gave them a wide berth, choosing instead to inspect the victim's plate and glass before turning to scan the room from this perspective.
"Now, just what might you be doing?" drawled Crowley.
I looked him over, too, while I was at it. In Crowley's case, this involved a lot of looking and not much over; he was easily more than six feet tall, even while slouching rakishly. The snake tattoo on his right temple suggested certain things about him. The dark glasses that he hadn't removed since he'd entered just suggested questions, since I highly doubted he was blind. "I'm a detective," I said, leaving the obviously at the end of that sentence to implication. "What are you doing?"
This response seemed to delight him. "So are we," Crowley answered, and grinned. "But if you want to get specific about it, I'm keeping you distracted while my friend saves this man's life. Let's see your license, then."
As I took it out, keeping at least one eye on him and his partner, Angel called out to the rubbernecking crowd around us, "I need someone here to run and call the nearest hospital, and a couple of strong men to help get this poor fellow someplace dark and quiet to rest. Best use one of the tablecloths for a stretcher," he added to the first volunteer who stepped forward.
Crowley leaned in closer to study my license. "Drake Silas Donovan," he read off. "'Silas', really?"
"What about it?"
"I've just always wondered what kind of parent would name their kid Silas."
"The kind who had a grandfather named Silas," I replied coolly, snagging my license back. "Your turn."
He obliged. Anthony J. Crowley, it read, licensed in London since 1905, the year before mine. I wondered how long he'd really been at this; he looked too young for his apparent age, but then, I looked too old for mine. "A. J. Crowley," I read his signature aloud. "Get asked if you're any relation every time, or just most?"
There's a certain motion a person's head makes when they roll their eyes. Crowley's was making it. "The man's an embarrassment to the side," he griped. "I made my name legitimately."
"And your friend?" It wasn't as if I couldn't put two and two together. There's a certain type of person who's got both a nose for trouble and the brains to prepare for it; if it walks, talks, and thinks like a dick, it probably is one. It was just that I wasn't in the habit of trusting people, and I'd be a real schmuck to neglect basic due diligence on the guy purportedly surrounded by bodies. 
Detectives are no better or worse than any other person. They just think it's usually more interesting to solve crimes than commit them.
"Oh, he's as legitimate as it gets." Crowley turned to his companion, who was getting to his feet, brushing his clothes off fussily. Beside him, the two volunteers hoisted the unconscious victim onto a tablecloth spread across the floor, momentarily dislodging the ether-soaked cloth before Angel caught it and laid it carefully back in place over the victim's nose and mouth. "Aren't you, Aziraphale?"
Angel — "Aziraphale"? — looked up, startled. "Pardon?"
"Mr. Donovan here wants to see your detective's license," Crowley explained, enunciating his words with malice aforethought.
"Oh! Yes. Of course I always have that with me. Now just where did I..." He started patting down his pockets, stopped suddenly, and took a lovely calfskin card holder out of his coat. "Ah. Here it is."
Beaming, he passed it to Crowley, who passed it to me with the comment, "You'll find everything in order, I'm sure."
I glanced down at the card, then back up at Angel. "Am I supposed to call you A. Z. Fell or Aziraphale?" I asked, pronouncing the Z correctly as zed.
"A. Z. Fell is how 'Aziraphale' is pronounced in the King's English," said Crowley blandly, affecting a cut-glass Oxford accent on the last phrase. His partner seemed pleased by this comment, rather than annoyed.
"I'm afraid my progenitor bestowed me with a rather unwieldy given name," Fell admitted, raising fascinating questions about just how many syllables the British peerage could fit on a birth certificate when they really tried. "Aziraphale just sounds so much more euphonious, don't you think?" Crowley was right; I couldn't tell whether Fell had meant to say A. Z. Fell or the de-accented gloss. He'd lengthened the overenunciated quasi-syllable between zed and Fell to a full vowel, but some people said zetta.
"I wouldn't know," I replied, handing the license back to Crowley, who was nearest. When Fell didn't take my bait, I added, "Lucky that you happened to have ether handy. I wouldn't like to imagine what might've happened if you'd decided to stay in tonight." I also lied when I said sorry, and when I swore to tell the whole truth and nothing but. Little white lies are the oil in the gears of civilization.
"Oh, I always carry that, too," Fell explained earnestly. "One gets into the habit after one's first run-in with strychnine, and of course ether has so many useful applica—"
"I wouldn't, angel," Crowley interrupted, sounding very amused. "Mr. Donovan thinks you're the one behind this."
"Oh," said Fell, nonplussed. "Gosh. Well, I — I suppose I can't blame him. He doesn't know me from Adam, after all, and has no reason to trust me — I did warn you about giving people funny ideas, Crowley, honestly. Of course," Fell turned to me, laying an elegant hand across his chest, "if you were to search me, you would find only a small collection of antidotes — oh, but a habitual poisoner would probably carry those, too, especially if he were the sort of voyeur with a penchant for playing the hero. I certainly wouldn't be convinced of my innocence. Yes, I can certainly understand whatever suspicion you might feel towards me, however misplaced it may be."
Crowley watched this thought process with an expression somewhere between fascination and agony. "Well, at least now he probably thinks that if you'd done it, you'd have been caught by now," he remarked, presumably because he was thinking the same thing. "You'll have to excuse my friend," Crowley added to me. "He still believes that the innocent have nothing to fear. Somehow."
"First time visiting?" I guessed.
Fell's bemusement answered my question before he did. "Pardon?"
"Never mind."
98 notes · View notes
raptureshots · 6 months ago
Text
Atlas n Frank...
Tumblr media
theyre best buddies (TO ME!!!!!!!!!!!)
funky lil alt under the cut :-)
Tumblr media
i hate these guys so much they're literally all i fucking think abt on a daily basis its horrible /silly
(i could go. on and on abt them in this. au honestly . the whole au IS technically abt them anyways sooo)
32 notes · View notes
moodymisty · 11 months ago
Text
I very very rarely get upset on this blog, but this email pissed me the FUCK off. I’ve gotten quite a few messages with this tone before, but this one really set me off. It's been a shit week for me, and I didn't need this.
Tumblr media
I spend hours a week trying to write shit for free for all of you, because I genuinely enjoy it and love it so so so much. Your ideas and comments make me so happy. But sometimes I need to take a fucking break.
Three days ago one of my birds suddenly went from alive and happy to seizing and dying in my arms while I comforted her the best I could, so I'm taking a few days off. Sorry if that's inconvenient for you.
Jesus Christ. And you guys fucking wonder why so many other writers are so fed up with the 'content' grindstone and just quit or hide in private discords. You don’t update something for a bit and you get people knocking at your door like you're fucking Wal-mart. If you can’t be bothered to add a few more words to your comment, why should I be bothered to write more.
Put some basic fucking human effort into communicating with the people who spend hours creating your self indulgence pieces out of kindness and a love of the community. How about instead of saying "MAKE THIS" you say hello and put some effort into your ask. You're asking someone to spend hours of their life writing something for you, not ordering chicken nuggets.
And if the person who sent this comment sees this? I'm sorry I'm this angry and you're the unfortunate target of it, but maybe next time you notice something hasn't been updated in a few months you remember that there's a human being with a life behind it before sending a one word demand for more. Shit happens. I highly doubt you can't find something else to read.
44 notes · View notes
skrunksthatwunk · 1 year ago
Text
you go to a lesbian blog and find it says women only!! no men allowed!!! and go oh! excuse me, um, what about other lesbians? plenty of lesbians are genderqueer... and they go well, okay, go fuck yourself tim chop off your sweaty dick and stop calling yourself a lesbian. you do not have a dick, actually. you think about that fact often, even though it does you no good. you do not tell this person that.
you go to another lesbian blog and it says women only and you try again, and this time they change it to wlw + nblw only (non-men who love non-men :D). and you'll say hey i appreciate that but gender's not really that cut and dry for a lot of people. someone could be both a man and nonbinary, for instance. i just worry that you're looking at nonbinary as a generic third gender, or an extension of womanhood. i mean yeah you include nblw in your tags but all your posts are about pussy-havers exclusively. what's with that? and they say go fuck yourself you pervy man pretending to be a lesbian. you tried to sneak in but i won't let you.
so you go to a lesbian blog with a dozen or so posts about queer people needing to be more weird about it and you sigh in relief. but you still see the men dni. that's odd. hoping for the best, you say hey! i know you mean well but please maybe don't put men dni at the end of the lovely posts on your lesbian blog bc some lesbians are men. and they'll be like ok!! well you're allowed ;) and you say no that's not. no. some men are lesbians not just me. you think about your own dicklessness and wonder if that's why you were given entry. and you add that even if male lesbians are allowed, there's no indication of that. how would anyone know without asking? and they're like ohh gotcha gotcha well men dni + this is for sapphics only!! and you'll be like ok well that treats the concepts of men and sapphics as mutually exclusive identities and i just told you that's not true and you agreed with me so.. i don't think that solves our problem. and they're like. ok. fine. men dni but genderfluid and multigender people are allowed! and you're like no see that's. that's still the same thing.. you're saying the same thing just with different words. if you don't want men to interact but you're fine with multigender/genderfluid/etc ppl interacting then you either don't see them as Real Men (because they don't reach a standard of Full Manhood) or Complete Men (because they're only Part-Time Men), both of which suggest that they are, in some way, not men or less-than men, which is invalidating and defeats the point of the exception in the first place (accommodation) OR that you don't really mean the dni which is confusing and inconsistent and makes guydykes feel weird and uncomfortable and excluded from the lesbian space you're trying to cultivate. and they're like um. ok. so. cishet men dni? and you're like well i think that makes more sense, but what if someone identifies as both a cishet man and a sapphic? again, if we're trying to accommodate the genderfucky populace then that has to be a possibility that is considered. and they say god you people are never happy. what do you want me to do? what am i supposed to say to keep the right men out? and you pause. you empathize with the need for a space free from dudes trying to fuck you straight and feminine. dudes who watch lesbian porn and joke about what they'd do if they were allowed into girls locker rooms. who look at you like a piece of meat, and like someone who looks at women like pieces of meat in the same way he does. you get it. you know. you want a space where you can be sapphic, too. that's why you came to these blogs in the first place. you brace yourself and you say well i don't know that there are "right men" to keep out. i don't know that there's any single label that would accomplish whatever it is you're trying to accomplish. you could go for "sapphics only" or "queers only" and i think that might be the closest thing to what you want, but it's never going to be perfect. creating any exclusive space is going to shut out people you didn't account for, and the broader the label, the more people will be shut out that you didn't want to shut out. and what about people who don't know if they're allowed? what of questioning transbians, where are they supposed to go? and, frankly, i think i might rather my dykey posts get read and appreciated by a gay guy who sees me as a man than a woman who only sees me as a sacred womb, pure from male perversions or violence or whatever. i think community might just be more complex than a dni can handle. and they look at you and say i don't want to not have a dni. i think you're too permissive. you can't just "what about" or microlabel your way into everything. go fuck yourself, i bet you're not even a lesbian anyway. go find a real problem to get mad about.
you go to a lesbian blog. you ignore the men dni because you know you probably don't even count to them. or maybe you do count and, out of respect for your manhood, they'd shun you accordingly. you try to feel okay about that. you scroll past dozens of posts about mediocre men and gagging at straight friends' boyfriends and how gross and undeserving men are of the beautiful women they couple up with and how all women should be gay so they can get treated right and and and and and. you finally find a post about curling into someone you love and feeling at peace and try to lose yourself in it. you know that feeling is what unites you, what makes you belong. you try to focus on it. you think about carding your hands through a butch's hair or lacing fingers with a femme and feeling warm and loved and more yourself than you ever have before. like this is who you're meant to be. you read about lesboys and butch boytoys and genderfucky dykes and big hairy deep-voiced wonderful women (like you want to be someday, like you wish you could make yourself) and you try to ignore the men dni underneath each and every post. and you daydream about meeting someone kind and earnest at a lesbian bar even though you don't think any such bars exist within three states of you and you can't drink and don't want to drink because you need to be in control of yourself at all times so you don't fuck up like you're always about to and here in the nonexistent lesbian bar you feel wanted and safe and in good company. you picture your ideal, happiest self. it is a mistake. ideal-you has a goatee. not the mascara one you smear on and call drag even though you know it's not drag, not really, the beard you call drag because you think everyone would look at you sadly if you told them it was just to pretend you had something out of your reach. a beard that's soft and that you grew and that cannot be smudged away if you get too comfortable with it. the dream shatters. your people pull away from you, their scoffs mixing with the mind-numbing gay girl bedroom pop you learned to settle for just to have something that almost resembled you, they all pull away and turn their backs and do not look at you. you're too close to being a man now, even though you're the same amount of man as before. and they know you're not supposed to interact with men, not as you would with dykes, at least. and it sours. it's all your imagination, all in your head, but it sours.
you sigh. you think about how small you are. how short, how narrow, how feeble. how your voice pitches up when you talk to strangers because it's easier to speak quietly when it carries more, and because you're nervous. because it's a chore to talk, like everything is. you think about testosterone. you think about how your family would look at you, the questions they would ask, your answers they would only pretend to accept. the uncomfortable glances and whispered questions they'd try to hide from you. you think about how small you are, and how small you will always be. how you don't know of a way to fix it, but even if there was one, no one would want you anymore. you'd be the only one thinking it made you a cooler dyke. you think about how you don't even want a T-voice all the time, how you'll never be able to switch it at will, because you don't know how and can't bring yourself to figure it out. you think about how your throat closes around every hint of your own attraction. how wanting is perverse, how wanting is invasive, how wanting is embarrassing and too vulnerable so it must stay anonymous, as an online witness, and how you can barely manage to form or maintain friendships because your brain makes you pull away, always spinning out and struggling to recover from the simplest of interactions. how they'll all leave you and you won't chase after them at all and how that will hurt them. how stuck you get. how it looks like nothing's holding you back, how that frustrates everyone who thought you were going to be more than you were. the people you love who understand except when it comes to being ghosted, being shut out. how you don't want to hurt them. how you can't tell them that because you're stuck. how you turn to stone when touched, how you never reach out, how you lose your speech and can't look at people, how your autism is fun and sexy until it becomes real and you never see them anymore, how much you longed for someone who knew everything without you having to explain, and who loved you anyway. how unreasonable you know that is to expect of anyone. you think about that not-even-real lesbian bar. you think about how you still can't drive. how you can't leave your home on your own, without dragging somebody into helping you. how you can't leave your body. how you can't leave your manhood behind.
you think about finding another lesbian blog and ignoring everything. about skimming it for the parts you can juice some meaning from. the parts men ignore and don't understand, and how typical of you it is to do so. or the parts where you're not welcome and you should accept that, because it's for lesbians only. how you are a lesbian anyway. how you're meant to choose lesbian or man, how each is a betrayal of some kind to yourself or your people, your family, your lovely strangers, your rare friendly acquaintances. about the parts that tell you you're not wanted, that you're ugly and lazy and gross and insert yourself everywhere without even asking. about the parts that tell you you are hated, and how lesbians are above it all by rejecting men. how lesbians are each blessed miracles. about the parts that say you should be ashamed of being whatever twisted confused freak you are, of everything, of looking and wanting or not looking or not wanting, of picking and choosing instead of taking it all in with a smile. after all, shouldn't you take it? or is your ego too fragile, as men's so often are? aren't you tired? good. we're not here for your consumption. and we sure as hell don't want your company or "community" or whatever. didn't you read the sign? no boys allowed. and if you want to come in you have to make up your mind. as if you haven't told them the only answer you have. you're both. you're both.
you know you broke the rule by interacting.
but it gets lonely sometimes. you wonder if they know.
#before i maybe get yelled at:#1) no i do not think ppl are evil for having men dnis no i do not think these are all equal transgressions even#though there is an overlap that should be examined that i think is based in a degree of lesbian separatism + exclusionism#2) yes there are lesbian blogs and people that are cool about genderfucky people. i'm not talking about them#3) this is a stylized vent post about trying to find lesbian content on tumblr that isn't like this. all these dnis/rules are ones i have#encountered. no i do not literally tell these people to change their dnis to suit me. the conversations are symbolic and ideological in#nature. if i find a blog with men dni i generally go somewhere else. it's about emotions. it's about my feelings on that it's not literally#about dming someone demanding they change things. it's not about demanding that You change things or else you're a bad person.#4) it is about the conflicts and hypocrisy and inconsistency of strict and exclusive sexuality labels persisting in gender-diverse spaces#and how it affects me as a lesbian who is a man who is a woman who is fucking whatever else. and yes it is about transphobia too.#5) it's about how lesbians feel the need to exclude men and how i think efforts to do so fail and hurt ppl and are often misguided#tht i think also comes up in like. bi lesbian/mspec lesbian/gaybian discourse. i'm not any of those myself but it seems like there's overla#6) if this post seems whiny and sad and insecure that's because it probably is. i have a right to be all of those things.#7) no i do not think all lesbians are man-hating assholes. i am a lesbian. i love lesbians. i love dykes and most of them are fantastic ppl#i just think the general bullshit of the world leads to this defensive thing that ends up hurting others in our community y'know?#8) i get that my perspective/experience is a bit unusual and many lovely ppl haven't considered it. that's part of why i'm sharing this#nyarla dni#<- sorry man it's too vulnerable. gonna keep this one to the internet-only folks#adding this wayy later but a crucial part of the experience i Almost talked about it this but never explicitly did was that like#the measures ppl take to 'defend against men' are often deeply transmisogynistic as well. obviously#and when i see that it hurts me too. not that it hits me the same way when strangers assume im a trans woman and hate me for it#but it doesn't feel good to see transphobia at all. i focused on how that relates to other kinds of transphobia#namely transandrophobia here but like. it's all connected. lesbain separatism + exclusionism relies on both and they aren't always#distinct experiences. ime. anyway trans ppl i love all of you forever#i just thought me writing “*turns to the camera* and trans women exp this too.' wouldve been too much even for this post#i figured the audience would like. know that. and so far it hasn't been an issue. i have not been yelled at thanks guys 🫶
47 notes · View notes
chimerafeathers · 6 months ago
Text
there's an essay jumbled up in my brain about dunmeshi's beginning and how clever and deceptive it is as a sleight-of-hand trick that distracts the audience from the depth and scope of the worldbuilding and foreshadowing that's being set up the entire time by dangling zany characters and wacky dishes and biology fun facts in front of us, and how that serves to catch invested viewers off guard when those elements come to the forefront, but also how it works against it with other viewers wanting "more" and not seeing it because the plot bait isn't laid out up front
how people getting frustrated with the characters "not taking things seriously" is mirrored and refuted in the confrontation between Laios and Shuro. how the characters' attitudes aren't just a result of shallow low-stakes "comedy rules" where nothing matters, but are an extension of their personalities (Laios's nonstandard expression of emotions being offputting even to people he knows) and the world and social environment (adventurers being desensitized to death and injury because resurrection magic is commonplace). the way the party refers to "saving Falin" instead of "retrieving Falin's corpse," indicating that they still see her with full personhood, and how that phrasing leads to some readers/viewers believing that Falin is alive in the dragon's stomach, conscious of being slowly digested while the party carelessly fucks around "wasting time." how the weird tonal dissonance makes sense in-universe and yet is deliberately challenged more and more the deeper the party goes
all the character building and pieces of lore slowly weaving together the shape of the larger world, laying the groundwork for the major themes that will surface later. so much is right there in the "low-stakes" early episodes if you know what you're looking for (or pass the perception checks).
it can be so satisfying to see new viewers/readers pick up on the clues even in the earliest "simple" episodes, or notice new things and make connections yourself....and it can also be frustrating to see people dismiss oddities and dissonance as shallow or bad writing because they don't expect a "cooking anime" to have depth like that. why try to question and understand and peel back the layers when you don't expect there to be any layers?
why can't laios take things seriously for once?
#mypost#i'm majorly out of practice for doing any real critical cohesive writing lol#trying to put this into coherent words has been such a mess so here's a vague gesture at my thought process about it#it's both my favorite and the most frustrating thing to see#because i've seen SO MANY people say they dropped the show after a couple eps thinking they know what it's about and where it's going#a cute but ultimately unsustainable gimmick#people for whom the characters and the food/biology infodumping weren't enough of a hook#but i wouldn't change anything about the structure to put a more obvious plot hook in the beginning#because it would give the game away TOO much#i LOVE how the audience has to acclimate to the characters' attitudes about death#only for our assumption that it's all normal and fine in this world to be thrown back in our faces#how we're left to notice the winged lion appearing in statues and carvings and coins and armor in the background#long long before it's ever brought up as a real entity by the plot#the history of the kingdom laid out in plain view but nevermind that. magic painting food!#i've seen the language around falin and her resurrection cause so much confusion#but of COURSE the characters involved wouldn't directly say 'we need to get her corpse to revive it'#bc pragmatically they already understand that as their goal. it doesn't need to be stated out loud; it's just how this process works.#but also they don't SEE her as an object. a dead body.#they need to 'save her before she's digested.' 'the spell couldn't reach her in the dragon's stomach.' 'hang in there falin'#death isn't real to them. not really. and so it doesn't quite feel real to the audience either#not until they find her skull and that realization slams home#like......i keep comparing it to gravity falls#which is episodic and goofy in the beginning but also has a much more obvious plot hook to keep people interested#(a main character entering a secret bunker indicating that he's lying about his ignorance of the town's mysteries)#the main characters in gravity falls are AWARE that there is a mystery to be solved and are trying to find more information#but i don't think that approach would work as well for dm!#laios's goals were never that lofty. not until they HAD to be because the situation demanded it of him#it's the characters trying to solve one personal problem and finding themselves entrenched in something vast and dramatic#that they weren't even fully AWARE of when they set out. and we the audience are on that journey with them!#it's SUCH a good structure i wouldn't trade it for anything. but also. tragic to see people give up and dismiss it so fast.
17 notes · View notes
oddmawd · 8 months ago
Note
I was trying to write before and it’s didn’t turn out good and I just stop writing and it don’t take practice you just have to be good at writing the first time you do it that is my opinion tho
i'm gonna assume you're like...12 years old...because there's no way an adult would be able to type that with a straight face
i'm not about to coddle you and give you a happy little pep-talk about ✨believing in yourself✨ after the way you treated that author...calling them a "bitch" because they don't PANDER TO YOUR SPECIFIC TASTES was a bully tactic and you should be ashamed of yourself
FURTHERMORE using a gendered insult like "bitch" and then demanding they write you a male reader insert story (while insulting female/gender neutral inserts in the same breath) is misogynistic as hell, i don't feel even the littlest bit sorry for you, so save the "woe is me, i can't write" bullshit for someone who gives a damn
but let me give you something to chew on while you throw yourself a pity-party about "not being good at writing" and pretend that gives you the right to bully people who actually TRY to be good writers:
Do Olympic athletes show up winning gold medals without ever setting foot on the practice field?
Do painters show up to their first class knowing how to use oil paints and watercolors and how to hold a brush effectively?
Did Hemingway roll out of the womb and write The Old Man and the Sea without writing a single damn thing beforehand?
no, they didn't...every writer you love wrote some SHITTY first drafts they didn't share with anyone because they sucked first (in private!) and THEN got good (in public)....and they got good by showing up and failing and trying again, and failing again and trying again and FAILING AGAIN (because that's what practicing is!!!!) until they finally started succeeding regularly...
UNLIKE YOUR CLOWN ASS THAT RAN AWAY SCARED WHEN YOUR FIRST STORY DIDN'T TURN OUT PERFECT
i'm not gonna take the easy road here and point out how fucking LAZY you sound when you say you tried once and gave up, because that's a cheap fucking shot and way too easy (you set me up so badly bro, like c'mon)
what i'm gonna do instead is point out that you just admitted that you were too fucking scared to try more than once
"BOO HOO, i wrote something, it was shitty, i was scared of what people might say and then i gave the fuck up" - you, probably
and that's the difference between we "lazy bitch" reader insert writers who actually post our work, and you: we show up and we TRY, every goddamn day, and we put ourselves out there despite the risk of being bullied by people like you who can't be bothered to try more than once
do you know what writing is, at its most fundamental level? it's showing your work to people and saying "please read this and enjoy it, i worked really hard," and PRAYING they don't tear your hard work apart for no reason at all, but that's what YOU did! you saw someone writing something they enjoyed and went "fuck you, i don't care that you labored and practiced for weeks and months, it wasn't to MY TASTES and therefore you're a lazy bitch," and you're apparently so un-selfaware that you don't realize the irony of YOU, a person who can't be bothered to try writing more than once, A) calling someone lazy, and B) demanding they spend their time/expertise to write something just for widdle ol' you, in the same breath
do you not fucking hear yourself????? huh?????
you tried writing ONCE and found out it was too hard for you, so now your answer is to bully writers and make demands of them? when you should know through your ONE attempt how difficult writing must be?
WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK BRO?
you should never message a writer again with your demands when you can't even be bothered to live up to your own standards, you entitled tone-deaf hypocrite
writing takes courage, and you have ✨N O N E✨
25 notes · View notes
llondonfog · 2 months ago
Note
Literally one of the Silver and Lilia writers to me <3
reputation meme
😭waaahhh thank you!! that means so much to me coming from a fellow diasomnia sufferer whose works i enjoy going back to time and time again <33 i always worry that i'm sort of a one trick pony when it comes to my lilia & silver fics because of how invested i am in the whump/horror aspect that the nature of their relationship lends itself so nicely to, but i'm very humbled by the reminder that you all allow me that space and enjoy the snippets that i provide 🥹
14 notes · View notes