#i also own a copy of the poster

[illiana-mystery]

Since we're a couple days away from the American release of the new Nosferatu movie, l thought it would be fun to revisit this old gem again. 😁

[risingsunresistance]

guys im gonna lose my mind the new red vox poster is beautiful go buy it

[aeide-thea]

dipping my toe into fandom discourse here, which is never a great idea, but—i really am baffled by the contingent of fans who apparently want AO3 to not only denounce but ban AI-generated works, as if there were any reliable way to distinguish between mediocre writing produced by a human and mediocre writing produced by an AI…?

[divinegrey]

ᴘᴀɪɴᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴏᴡɴ ʙʟᴜᴇ / ᴊɪɴx x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

sorry for the wait everybody!! been writing other things in the meantime, arcane hasn't been my sole focus. also i have homework and exams. but here's something to appease all of you!! anon, i hope i did this prompt justice!

prompt: I'd like to request a Jinx x Fem! Reader. I like the idea of the reader being a follower of Jinx, as I think the dynamic could be fun. I think it could be cool to explore a follower of Jinx getting to know her and realizing that she's more than just a symbol. She's a multifaceted individual.

words: 1585

warnings: none

It started when she caught you tagging the side of a building. With her face, no less. 

With all the shit going down in Zaun in the wake of Silco’s death and every gang leftover fighting for scraps of power, it was only time before Jinx caught up to the fact that while yes, her face is plastered everywhere on wanted posters, there are about a dozen more spray-painted graffiti tags of her over them. Which was the goal of what you were doing when she dropped down from a building and walked to your side. 

All she did was look at the statuesque version of her face, washed in shades of blue, and say, “My nose doesn’t look like that.” 

And she was right.

Of course, with time, you got better at it. The wanted posters did a mean disservice, honestly. The only thing they got correct were the pink eyes, pink eyes that followed you when you went to your shitty box of an apartment and flopped onto a mattress flattened by years of use. You’d go to sleep, wake up, grab your paint duffel, and head back out again. The nice thing about Zaun is that there’s always an empty spot just waiting to be tagged. 

Somehow, Jinx always finds you. 

“You know people see you as a leader, right?” You say, shaking a can of neon pink, the ball rattling around inside the canister. You glance over your shoulder to where Jinx sits on some pipes connected to the wall, her braids dangling and the gold bullet casings wrapped around reflecting the faint light that falls through the fissures. With a gesture to your own head of hair, dyed an insane hodge-podge of bright colors, blue included, you continue, “Silco’s gone. Whole world down here has turned upside down. But for the first time in a while, we’ve got hope. Cuz of you. Cuz of what you did to those fuckin’ Pilties.” 

“For all the good it did,” Jinx remarks, a dryness to her tone you’ve come to know and love. 

“I’m serious. C’mon, you can’t tell me you don’t know the reason why I keep painting you? Why a dozen other taggers I know keep painting you? Why the color blue is nearly sold out in every damn shop?” You kneel down, arcing a curve of pink paint along the grey brick wall, moving quick and precise. Overthinking it makes it worse. “I’m not wearing spray-painted clothes in your colors for nothin, Jinx.” 

She turns, peering at you. In the shadows, her eyes seem to reflect some more, glowing like a cat’s would. “Because y’all have some weird, deluded sense that I’m a leader, or somethin’.” 

“You are. To me. To us.” You point at the other tags in the alleyway, some of them copies of the same mark you’ve seen a dozen times around town. Jinx’s name, sigils of BOOM! and explosives doodled about. You twist and take a seat on the scaffolding, your legs dangling off the side of it. “I didn’t know you when I first started drawing you. I heard what you did, and I thought damn, there’s someone out there willing to actually do something. In a single day, you did more than Silco ever did in years. Sure, we might be going head long into a war, but dying free is better than living under someone else’s boot.” 

Jinx hums. She leaps off the pipes, crossing the gap between you and her with ease, landing on the wooden scaffolding. She straightens up, gazing at the half-finished tag you’re working on. With a hum, she turns to you, and puts something in your hand. Before you have the time to look down and figure out what it is, Jinx says, “Nozzle control. Quality on some of your cans are shit, no offense. Slap that thing on it and you won’t have an issue after that.” 

“Oh, thanks—” 

“Don’t mention it!” Jinx steps off the scaffolding, landing on the ground below with a THUD. “And for the record, I ain’t the kinda person to follow.” 

“You’re gonna have to try harder than that to convince me!” You call down, grinning from ear to ear. Her brows furrow together, then a small huff, a hint of a smile on her own face. She walks away, off to do… whatever it is that she does when she’s not hanging out with you. 

It isn’t for some time that you see her again. You’d say you’re worried, but you pass through the crowds hearing whispers of Jinx sightings. Every day, it seems another head of blue hair appears, the quiet signs of revolution brewing in the heart of Zaun as the enforcers grow more and more strict, searching anyone and everyone for some hint or clue to find the one that destroyed the Council Chamber in Piltover. You’ll never say a word. 

You walk into your apartment. Work was… work, boring and mind-numbing as it always is. You wonder if you can handle another day of it, but another day will bring another chance of seeing her out there, so you decide not to fly off the handle just yet. You shrug off the soot-stained work clothes, and where you reach for your paint-splattered jacket, it isn’t there. 

Instead, a note. 

Never had anyone believe in me quite like you. The Hound’s statue, midnight. Come and get it. 

With the pink lettering and the doodles of monkeys and bombs scribbled across the page, it doesn’t need to be said just who left this note. You snatch it off the wall, utterly beaming; Gently, you fold it into fourths, tucking it into your shirt. Thank god for the late shift— less waiting!

Any of the weariness you might’ve felt before is gone as you race through the streets, taking any and every shortcut you know. The night is quiet, what with the enforced curfew put up by the Pilties to discourage wandering, not that they’ve done a good job of it. Zaun is Zaun, and the cogs down here will always keep turning, whether Piltover likes it or not. 

When you arrive at the open plaza where the statue erected to Vander, the Hound of the Underground, is, your mouth drops in shock to find the entire plaza covered, every square inch of it, in neon paint. Sigils upon sigils that you have seen time and time again, glowing in the dark. It reaches all the way to the statue, pink highlights in Vander’s hair and blue accents along his metal jacket. 

Sitting on the shoulder of the statue, paint can in one hand and your jacket in the other, is Jinx. 

“Shoulda known you’d be a little early. Good thing, I work fast,” Jinx remarks. She crooks a finger at you to come closer, and you do, taking care to step over the paint lines on the stone. You’re a little in awe of the work she’s done— how has nobody taken notice? Come to think of it, you heard there was a scuffle a few blocks away. The logistics don’t seem to matter anymore the closer you get to her. 

You arrive at the base of the statue. “How’d you even know where I live?” 

“Sweets, there are a lot of things I know about you. And a lotta things you know about me. Things that might drive other people away, but not you,” Jinx says, something like an angel as she looks down upon you from the statue. In the flash of a second and the trace of neon light left in the sky, she’s standing in front of you, your back pressed against the statue. The beam of moonlight that breaks through shines on her, her shimmer-pink eyes locked onto your frame. “You keep sticking to the inside my brain, can’t stop thinking about you.” 

“Could say the same for you,” you reply, a little breathless. “Why’d you do all this? Get my jacket and bring me here?” 

“Cuz you showed me somethin’ important. That people, for whatever crazy reason they got in their head, believe in me,” Jinx says. She holds out your jacket to you, and you take it, slipping your arms through the sleeves and fixing the collar so it stands upright. Her eyes go from bottom to top, taking her sweet time. “I wanna show em what I can do. Give those people with my blue in their hair a reason to keep going. To keep fighting.” 

“You have me. All the way, Jinx,” you say, putting a hand over the front of your jacket, where a pink heart has been painted. “So what do you wanna do? Other than all this?”

“Right now?” Jinx cocks a grin. “I wanna kiss you.” 

What? You blink, wondering if you heard that right, but her taking a step closer to you only confirms that yes, you did hear it right. You swallow the nerves, finding your cheeks hurting from how hard you’re smiling. “And then what?” 

“And then, we show Zaun all the fun we have to offer, and we tell Piltover to shove their Hextech where the sun don’t shine,” Jinx finishes, her hands grabbing the lapels of your jacket and pulling you in. Your lips touch hers, something you never thought would happen, not in your wildest dreams. 

But here you are, arms wrapped around Jinx as she kisses you in the streets of Zaun, the cry of revolution soon to come. 

~~~~~

A/N: thank you for reading!! comments are always appreciated <3

[bloodibambiidoll]

The copying in the Outer Banks fandom has gotten completely out of hand. I am not only speaking for myself, but for people who I’ve also witnessed this happening to. It seems that some of you have the mentality of “oh! Well this has probably been done before in fanfiction so it’s not copying because they didn’t invent it!” But if you see someone’s post, and take inspiration from it IN ANY WAY, you need to credit them for it.

It doesn’t matter if it’s a moodboard of a fic they haven’t posted yet. Or just a simple thought they put out into the universe. Even if you use someone’s gif they took the time to make and share, there needs to be credit. I think the over abundance of !Readers has made a lot of regurgitation happening between blogs in this fandom. And I’m not saying you shouldn’t write them, but they’re all the same. Spice it up. And when there is something new? I see it ripped off over and over again until it’s like a telephone game and the original poster is lost in the wind.

It fucking HURTS to put your time, creativity, energy, and care into something and then see someone else take your idea, not even make it their own, and then proceed to give you zero credit for it. Taking inspiration from people is a fundamental human reaction that every person does. But it doesn’t matter if it was malicious. It still hurts just the same. I have posted moodboards teasing my AUs and have had people take that idea and write it before I can ever even post my fic. It fucking sucks. It’s discouraging. And it’s just fucking rude and inconsiderate as hell.

On top of that, it’s fucking boring. Why would you want to march to the beat of every other person in this fandoms drum? Fanfiction is about being whoever the fuck you want, writing whatever the fuck you want, but it seems like people care more about notes and what others think than the actual content they’re putting out. This fandom needs to be less about the aesthetics and more about the content. I’m tired of reading the same thing over and over again. I’m tired of the 500-1k blurbs that throw me right into the smut with no plot or backstory.

Don’t get me wrong, I love a little smut blurb down, but when it’s all you see? It’s gets old. But that being said, the lack of support on longer fics, smut, and angst, is extremely discouraging to writers and it causes us to not want to take the time and effort to write those longer things because while notes aren’t everything, feeling unappreciated in any capacity is shitty. It’s a byproduct of itself.

We need to be more courteous of others. There needs to credit given when inspiration is taken from others. There needs to be less worry about what other people like, what other people will think and more focus on the creativity and the fun of fanfiction. Something needs to change because I have been seeing this almost daily. I have had friends and mutuals coming to me for these exact feelings I’m feeling and it’s discouraging and exhausting to see. There’s also this fear around calling people out for stealing because whenever someone does, hell rains down on them. It’s not cute. People should be allowed to defend their creativity on their own blog.

And they wouldn’t have to. If everyone just started giving credit where credit is due.

[jiskblr]

Tumblr Rules for Redditors

Hello, fellow redditors! Many people are trying to tell you rules about how to Tumblr properly. Many of them are wrong, or assholes, or both. I am also an asshole but I’m going to not be one for a minute to give you some advice:

“Reblog this or you’re a bad person” and any variation on that is a violation of intergalactic law. Don’t do it. Also, refuse to comply if someone else does it.

Generally, people can see what you reblog, but cannot see what you ‘like’. A like may seem like an upvote, but it is much less significant than one, since it doesn’t affect visibility in the slightest. A like will be visible both to the OP of the thread, and to the person whose reblog you put the like on. Like promiscuously! It feels good to get likes and there’s no downside. (Unless you are a space alien AKA influencer.) There’s a setting for like visibility, but it’s still somewhat hard to find even if it’s turned on.

Tumblr nominally has the ability to browse global tags (e.g. seeing the entire site’s posts and reblogs tagged #superwholock or #reddit exodus) and to search the site for things. No one uses them and they don’t really work.

You are probably less surprised by this than denizens of literally any other website on the internet, but there’s mostly no algorithm here. Chronological order only. This now defaults to being on, but you can and should turn it off. (If you’re using the search or global tags, they might have an algorithm, but if they do, it doesn’t work. We don’t know because we don’t use them, because they mostly don’t work either.)

Anyone can have absolutely any conversation in the notes of your post that they like. This is how the website works. You are allowed to complain about it, but don’t expect anyone to humor you. I think it’s possible to make posts unrebloggable and disable replies, but this is essentially refusing to use Tumblr. If you want to do that... go ahead, I guess?

Many people have ‘DNI’ lists in their blog descriptions. This means ‘do not interact’ and indicates that they don’t want you to message them, reblog from them, reblog any posts they are OP of, or even, sometimes, ‘like’ their posts. It is good manners to respect these, if you know they exist, but in normal use you probably won’t look at blog descriptions very often so it is entirely okay to violate them by accident. (When the lists get very long, it becomes impractical to check whether you violate them. Generally, just skip it. You probably don’t want to interact with those people anyway.)

Notes on posts you start will go to you no matter how many intervening hops there are on the reblog chain. If you get a post with an enormous amount of notes, this can get overwhelming. Whatever the current incarnation of Xkit (basically RES for Tumblr except we’ve switched names and maintainers seven times) is, will have a setting to deal with this. If that’s insufficient, the suggested course of action is to reblog your OP to your own blog so that you have a copy for posterity’s sake, and then delete the OP. This silences the notes.

If you and another user both follow each other, you are ‘mutuals’. This makes it much easier to have conversations with each other, which is ordinarily sort of hard since everything is purely chronological. Frequently your mutuals are your friends; if not yet true, they may become your friends.

When you reblog things, you can write words both in the word part and in the tags, Modern tumblr norms are to write long rambling tags in full sentences rather than put words in the main body. Unlike some other norms, violating this one and putting your response in the body of the reblog is not particularly rude. The worst it does is make a reblog chain long. Probably don’t reblog things and just say “This.”, though.

Tags can be subjected to peer review, by which we mean someone copy-pastes your tags and/or screenshots them and adds them to the main body of their reblog. Generally this is a compliment. The alternative is to say “#prev tags”, and this makes everyone hate you because it’s hard to find which tags were ‘prev’. Please just peer review properly if they’re good.

If you want to search your blog, consider Siikr. Don’t overuse it, it’s one guy’s project.

Be verbose! This ain’t Twitter, no character limit. (Not even the really large character limit of a reddit comment.) Write a 3000-word story in a single reblog if you want, that sounds awesome. Use ‘read more’ if you do, though. Posts can be very long, one of our oldest memes is about this.

Infinite scroll is the default, but you can turn it off. Actually, check all the settings, many of them will improve your experience.

On queues: Go nuts. Some people put everything in the queue, some people almost nothing. Some queue specific aestheticposting (personally I do #too smol) and post other things normally. Most people who queue a lot add a queue-specific tag like #the mighty queue or #this queue shall pass, or at least I notice them more than poasters with untagged queues.

You know how Reddit lets you buy Gold and people go 'thanks for the gold kind stranger'? On tumblr we spend money on Tumblr Blaze, and it is considered the PvP section of Tumblr. Though sometimes people actually use it to spread posts they like, such as people attempting to evangelize Christianity (no, really, that happened a lot) or the, I hope, actually-kind stranger who blazed this OP. You can turn off PvP with one of the many settings.

Everybody be excellent to each other!

[childrenofcain-if]

Wait so ur telling me that Mom got pregnant with us when she was still in college? As a person who's had many pregnancy scare before I graduated college, it mustn't have been easy for her at all 🙁 did she even want to keep us? Or did Elias convince her to do that?

your mother sat on the edge of her dorm bed, the small square of mattress barely big enough to hold her. ‘fake plastic trees’ by radiohead played from the CD player where she’d inserted the signed copy of ‘the bends’ that elias gifted her for her birthday last year.

she felt smaller than the girl who used to sit cross-legged on her childhood bed, staring at the posters she had of R.E.M. and the cranberries, tuning out the shouts downstairs.

now, though, it wasn’t shouts she tuned out but her own thoughts. they were loud and disjointed, clashing like mismatched cymbals in her head, each one sharp enough to make her wince.

her hand rested flat against her stomach. the knowledge of you being there was like holding a fragile, heavy truth in the palm of her hand. it would not be a lie to say she loved you—not yet. but it was too soon, too abstract.

it would also not be a lie to say she feared you. that was probably closer to the mark.

she was twenty years old, and for twenty years, she had walked a line. one side was her mother, all blunt edges and scarred softness, hollowed out by betrayal and depression. the other side was her father, all cruelty wrapped in a charming exterior he presented to everyone else but his own family.

she had walked the tightrope, feeling it shift beneath her with every fight, every slammed door, every time her father disappeared for days, weeks, only to return smelling of perfume that wasn’t her mother’s.

and to think it all started when her father had called her mother ruined. ruined. he said it with the kind of disdain reserved for something you’d like to throw away but can’t even be bothered to muster the energy to do so.

it was after her brother was born, and everything about her mother seemed different: softer in some places, scarred in others.

the postpartum weight clung to her body like an unwanted guest, and though her father never said it directly, he didn’t have to. his glances said enough. his hands, which used to linger on her waist, now found the armrests of his chair instead.

her mother’s descent was slow after that, like the drip of a faucet you don’t notice until it’s flooded the sink. she spent her days shuffling around the house, a glass of something amber in her hand, her white robe hanging loosely on her frame. she looked at your mother and her brother with eyes that didn’t seem to recognize them.

the crying started shortly after. not your mother’s, not yet, but the baby’s. it was shrill and loud, as most babies’ cries are.

your mother remembered watching her mother pick up the baby, her hands trembling, her voice high and thin as she pleaded for him to stop.

he didn’t stop.

her mother’s voice then got even louder.

“stop it!” she screamed, and when that didn’t work, she shook him. not gently, not in the way that you’re supposed to handle babies. her movements were rough and desperate, her arms jerking back and forth with a force that made your mother’s stomach drop.

your mother didn’t remember moving, only that suddenly she was there, her tiny hands gripping her mother’s arm, trying to pull her away from her baby brother.

“stop!” she cried, her own voice breaking now, tears streaming down her face. “you’re hurting him!”

for a moment, her mother froze, her chest heaving, her face crumpled with something that might have been regret or might have been rage. she looked at your mother like she didn’t know her, like she was seeing a stranger. then she dropped the baby back into the crib and stumbled out of the room.

your mother held her brother that night, rocking him back and forth until his cries softened into hiccups.

she didn’t sleep well for several nights after that. she couldn’t.

by the time your mother was a teenager, she had learned how to read the silence in a room.

she could tell by the way her father’s jaw tightened when he glanced at her mother that he was one argument away from leaving. she could tell by the way her mother avoided mirrors that she hated herself more than she hated her husband.

her father eventually did leave, of course. men like him always did. he didn’t pack a suitcase or make a scene; he just stopped coming home.

for a while, your mother thought that might be a relief. it wasn’t.

her mother spiraled without him. the drinking got worse, and with it came the harsh words and the slammed doors and the nights your mother spent sitting on the floor outside her mother’s room, listening to her sob into her pillow as she tried to coax this grown woman to eat something.

your mother had promised herself that she would be nothing like either of them.

she would not love the way her mother had loved, giving so much of herself away that there was nothing left but the empty shell of a woman who could barely hold a crying baby without wanting to hurt him.

she would not hurt the way her father had hurt, tearing holes in the fabric of their family until there was nothing left to stitch together.

and yet here she was, a junior at yale, staring at the old posters of her favourite bands in her dorm and feeling the exact same fear her mother must have felt.

it was like looking into a fucking mirror.

[gaargoyle]

My current much-loved possession, an original 1993 copy of Space Marine. I wanted it for its lovely cover, mostly, (also physical media is supreme) even though it's seen better days. The pretty foil lettering has worn away in spots.

Inside is the timeline that was canon in 1993. You can still get this book today digitally, but I do not know if they include a timeline with it still, and if they do, if they kept it as it was for posterity or made updates.

Transcribed below!

A TIMELINE FOR THE WARHAMMER 40,000 UNIVERSE

15th Millennium - Humanity begins to colonise nearby solar systems using conventional sub-light spacecraft. At first, progress is painfully slow. Separated from Terra by up to ten generations in travel time, the new colonies have to survive mainly on local resources.

The Dark Age of Technology

20th Millennium - Discovery of warp drives accelerates the colonisation process and the early independent or corporate colonies become federated to Terra. The first alien races (including the ubiquitous Orks) are encountered. The development of the Navigator gene allows human pilots to make longer and faster 'jumps' through warp space than was previously thought possible. The great Navigator families, initially controlled by industrial and trading cartels, become a power base in their own right.

Humanity continues to explore and colonise the galaxy. Contacts are established with the Eldar and other alien races. A golden age of scientific achievement begins. Perfection of the Standard Template Construct (STC) system now permits an almost explosive expansion to the stars.

The Age of Strife

25th Millennium - Humanity reaches the far edges of the galaxy, completing the push to the stars begun over ten thousand years before. Human civilisation is now widely dispersed and divergent - with countless small colonies as well as many large, overpopulated planets. Localised wars and disputes with various alien races (especially the Orks!) continue, but pose no threat to the overall stability of human-colonised space. Then, two things happen almost simultaneously. First, humans with psychic powers begin to appear on almost every colonised world. Second, civilisation starts to disintegrate under the stress of widespread insanity, demonic possession, and internecine strife between these new 'psykers' and the rest of humanity. Countless fanatical cults and organisations spring up to persecute the psykers as witches, and/or degenerate mutants. At this time, the existence of the creatures of the warp (later known and feared as demons), and the dangers they pose to the human mind with newly awakened psychic powers, is far from understood.

Terrible wars tear human civilisation apart. Localised empires and factions fight amongst themselves as well as against fleets of Orks, Tyrannids [sic], and other aliens whose forces are quick to seize the opportunity to sack human space. Many worlds fall prey to the dominance of Warp Creatures whilst others revert to barbarism. Humans survive only on those worlds where psykers are suppressed or controlled. During this time, Terra is cut off from the rest of humanity by terrible warp storms, which isolate the home world for several thousand years, further accelerating the ruin of humanity.

The Horus Heresy

30th Millennium - Humanity itself teeters on the brink of the abyss of extinction. Civil war erupts throughout the galaxy as the Emperor of human space is betrayed by his most trusted lieutenant, the Warmaster Horus. Possessed by a demon from the warp, Horus seduces whole chapters of humanity's greatest warriors - the Space Marines - into joining his cause. When the final battle seems lost, the Emperor defeats Horus in single combat, but only at the cost of his own humanity.

His physical life maintained by artificial means, and his psyche by human sacrifice, the Emperor begins the long task of reconquering human space. With the creation by the Emperor of the psychic navigational beacon known as the Astronomican, the foundations are laid for the building of the Imperium, as it to be known in the 41st millennium. Fuelled by the dying spirits of those psykers who would otherwise fall prey to the demons of the warp, and directed by the Emperor's indomitable will, the Astronomican soon becomes an invaluable aid to Navigators throughout the galaxy. Interstellar travel becomes even easier and quicker, while the repression and control of psykers and creatures from the warp releases much of humanity from its hellish bondage.

The Age of the Imperium

41st Millennium - Throughout the portion of the galaxy known as the Imperium, humanity is bound within the organisations and strictures of the Administratum. The Emperor grows ever more detached from the day to day concerns of his mortal subjects, while the Inquisition works ceaselessly to protect humanity from the ever-present dangers posed by renegade psykers and the terrible creatures inhabiting warp space. The armies of the Imperium - the Guard and the almost superhuman Space Marines - maintain a constant vigil against the threat of invading Orks, Tyrannids [sic] and other aliens. But still the number of psykers increases steadily, and other more sinister groups associated with Warp Creature domination continue to gain ground...

[dreaming-medium]

Bad Day - Bang Chan Drabble

Summary: Reader has a terrible day; one of those days where everything goes wrong. Luckily, her boyfriend is there to wipe the stress away with some well deserved hugs.

Word Count: 2.2k

——————————————————

Punch after punch after punch after punch lands on your soul today. Every single time you turned around, another horrible situation would present itself.

You’ve been sick for two and half weeks now. The sore throat would come and go, but you weren’t able to sleep without propping two pillows under your head. This morning when you woke up, your voice was completely gone.

The empty space next to you in bed certainly doesn’t help either. Chan has been gone for a work trip for two weeks now. He wasn’t due home for another two more.

Work has been its own animal to take care of. It was your first job after graduating, so you were at the bottom of the totem pole. Each higher up suddenly felt the need to burden you with any difficult projects they didn’t feel like taking care of themselves.

“I don’t think this is something I was trained on,” you tried to say to one of the more older workers. The huge stack of papers was so heavy in your hands. “These calculations would take me—“

“Just do it, Y/N,” he said before closing the door to the conference room you were standing alone in.

You had just watched that coworker’s boss tell him to do it. But nope, he dumped it on you.

On top of that, you were also tasked with training the new guy even though you’ve only been here for nine months.

And this guy made it his personal mission to make your job even harder. The way he would go from not knowing anything to being a complete know-it-all within two sentences made your blood boil.

But it’s fine. It’s totally fine, you can handle this.

Then, someone ate your lunch out of the fridge even though your name was clearly written on it. Your lunch break was so short that there was no way you could run out to get something else.

It was raining so hard as you jogged to your car through the parking lot. Every spot in the parking garage was taken this morning so you had to use the satellite lot ten minutes away.

Your clothes were drenched by the time you got into your car and slammed the door shut.

Fumbling with the keys, you shoved them into the ignition and started your car. The heat immediately kicked on and you sat there for an extra couple of minutes, warming your frozen fingers in front of the vents.

A book from one of your favorite authors came out today. You were going to pass the store on your way home, why not stop and buy a copy? It certainly would help with the day you were having.

The drive to the store was silent. You didn’t even turn the radio on. If you’re being honest, you didn’t think you could handle sound.

People were everywhere in the bookstore.

You walked in and looked around for the new book. There were signs and posters everywhere that announced the book. Where was it?

“If you’re looking for the new Kingdom book we sold out this morning.” A worker says to you softly.

A small part of you dies.

You politely nod to the worker and leave.

It’s ridiculous how you feel the tears building behind your eyes.

It’s fine. It’s fine. You’re overreacting. It’s totally fine. You’ll just buy a copy on your Kindle. You didn’t even need a physical copy, right?

Your fingers fumble with your keys and you drop onto the ground. They splash right into a puddle.

It’s fine, it’s fine.

Swallowing painfully, you wince at your sore throat and gather your things to get back in the car.

You’ll go home and watch TV.

“It’s Friday,” you whisper to yourself in the car to try and calm down. “It’s treat day, why not stop for a coffee?”

Every Friday you would buy yourself a coffee. ‘Treat Day’ is what you dubbed it as. It slowly became a tradition with you and your friends.

Chan used to always reload your coffee rewards app with his own money without telling you.

A sad smile tugs at your face while you drive to the coffee shop. God, what you wouldn’t give to see him right now.

The tension in your shoulders is so bad you think your shoulders are level with your ears.

After getting your coffee, you drive all the way home to your apartment complex.

Right before you turn into the lot, a car decides to come out of nowhere and cuts you off. You cut the wheel and slam on the brakes to avoid them.

Your coffee launches out of the cup holder and spills all over your lap.

“Fuck!” You curse and try to focus on the road. “Fuck fuck!”

At least it was iced coffee and you’re not burned. Right? Silver lining?

You’re at your limit. Your sanity is teetering.

Parking in your designated spot, you trudge into the large building.

The weight of the day still sits so heavy on your shoulders. Now your lap was soaked with coffee.

A package sits underneath the complex’s mailboxes. It’s ruined and crushed. The ‘FRAGILE’ sticker is gnarled up.

“No,” you sigh and look closer at it.

Yep, it’s yours. The new dishwear set you ordered came in.

When you lift the package you hear all the pieces shift around. It’s just a box of broken ceramic at this point.

Tighter and tighter your throat gets.

Slowly, you trudge up to your floor. Because, of course, the elevator is broken. Of course it is. Why would the elevator work today?

Just as you get your keys out to open your door, your shitty neighbor comes outside.

“Oh god, Y/N, you look horrible.” He says loudly.

You turn and look at him with tears already brimming in your eyes.

No sign of compassion crosses his face, instead, he laughs. He laughs right in your fucking face.

“No wonder I haven’t seen Chan around. He finally came to his senses, eh?”

Your jaw drops open.

“God, pull yourself together.”

Your neighbor picks up his newspaper from the doormat and goes back into his unit without another word.

For a long moment, you just stand there. Your clothes and hair still soaking wet and clinging to your skin, work bag and purse slung over your shoulder, box of broken plates and bowls in your arms.

Inside your body, you felt yourself finally snap. You felt your anger and frustration hit it’s limit.

Your look of surprise quickly morphs into one of seething rage. Lips pulling in a sneer, you rip open your door and stomp inside, slamming it shut behind you.

Dropping everything you own at the door, including the box of glass, you let out a muffled scream.

The box bursts open and glass shards go everywhere. They skitter across the floor and cover the wood in a dangerous mine field.

A moment of silence passes.

You lose it.

You drop to your knees and cradle your face while angry, hot tears stream down your cheeks.

Wails leave your lips as the weight of the day finally takes it’s toll.

On any normal day, you would be able to handle these things individually, but all at once? You just couldn’t deal with it anymore.

“Y/N?!” A voice calls out from the other end of the hallway.

Your head snaps up and you see your boyfriend standing there with a look of horror on his face.

“Chan,” you croak out.

His eyes frantically look around at the scene in front of him. Your disgruntled state surrounded by broken glass.

He’s here? He’s back?

“Y/N, are you okay? What happened? Are you hurt?”

He tries to walk closer but then he realizes he’s also surrounded by broken glass.

“Chan.” Is all your able to say again before the sobs come out even harder. Your entire body wracks with them, chest sputtering as you try to breathe between cries.

His face twists up in anguish.

“S-Stay there! Don’t move, I’m gunna get a dust pan, okay? I’ll be right back, babygirl. Don’t move.”

He continues to say things over and over to you while running to get what he needs.

“I’m here, baby. You’re okay, right? You’re home and safe, Y/N.”

You bury your face in your hands again and continue to cry. His words reach you, but they do nothing to quell the emotions.

Before you could fall further into this headspace, two warm, strong arms wrap around you and pull you into an even warmer body.

“I’m right here, honey, I’m here. You’re okay.” Chan whispers into your hair. He pulls you onto his lap and holds you close.

His comforting scent envelops you everywhere.

Chan rocks back and forth while holding you.

“You’re okay,” he says over and over into your hair. “You’re home now, I’m here, Channie’s here.”

Your face buried into his shoulder, hands gripping his shirt tightly

“What happened, baby?” He asks gently.

You cry harder.

“I’m so sick,” you cry into his shirt. “People keep taking advantage of me at work, I had to park ten minutes away in the rain. Someone ate my lunch. I dropped my keys in a puddle, the new book sold out, I spilled my coffee everywhere. Then fucking 304 across the hall tells me how horrible I look.”

You motion outwards at the glass all over the floor still. “And how do you like our new dishes?”

Even in the middle of a mental breakdown, you still crack a joke.

Saying it all makes you cry even harder. At this point, Chan’s shirt is soaked with your tears.

He continues to hold you as tight as he could. Not once does he tell you to stop crying, instead he carefully scoots and leans against the wall, cradling your body on his lap.

Chan rocks back and forth, pressing kisses into the crown of your hair as you cry your heart out.

His one hand rubs slow circles on your back while the other pets the back of your hair.

Low hums come from his throat. Chan lays his cheek on top of your head and keeps you close to his chest.

“It’s okay, babygirl,” he coos. “You’re home now. You’re with me now.”

“Thank god you’re home,” you hiccup and clutch his shirt closer to you.

“My spidey-senses were tingling,” he jokes in a hushed tone.

You manage to chuckle through your tears.

“My babygirl needed me.”

You’ve always been so happy go lucky, the glass was always half full with you. You always looked on the bright side of everything. If anything bad happened, it always just rolled off your back.

It was one of the main reasons he fell for you.

Chan has never seen you as bad as you were on your knees in the entryway, it shook him to his core.

Another long kiss is pressed to your head.

Slowly, your sobs calm down. Your throat still hoarse and sore from before has only gotten marginally worse.

Sniffling, you sit up away from Chan.

“‘M sorry I got your shirt all gross.”

Chan laughs in spite of everything. Both of his strong hands cup your cheeks for you to look him in the eye.

His chin dips down to your level so he can stare right at you. Those gorgeous brown eyes sparkle at you.

“I’m not upset about my shirt, Y/N,” he says gently. “I’m only worried about my sunshine. It’s not every day you cry, baby.”

“Everything just happened at once.” Chan’s thumbs wipe away the tears on your cheeks. “I tried to keep it together but our neighbor verbally berating me was the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

Chan tuts and brushes your hair behind your ear.

“Let’s throw eggs at his door,” he jokes.

He pulls a laugh from you.

“There’s my favorite smile.” He coos. It makes your smile even brighter. You sniffle again, and look down sheepishly.

Chan lifts your chin up with his thumb and forefinger. “Hey baby,” he grabs your attention. “How about this: you go shower off the day, I’m going to clean all this up and order our favorite takeout for dinner. I even stopped on my way home and got two pints of ice cream before.”

“Mint chocolate chip?” You ask softly.

“Of course I got your nasty toothpaste ice cream.” He pinches your cheek teasingly.

You giggle and lean away from his hand.

“Come on, babygirl.”

Before he does anything else, Chan leans forward and presses a long, warm kiss to your forehead.

Both of your eyes close at the comforting feeling it brings. After he kisses your forehead, Chan leans down and kisses both of your cheeks.

His warm lips then press to your nose and then finally to your lips.

It’s a long, sensual, loving kiss. Both of your mouths slipping over one another in a dance.

You sigh happily into the kiss. Chan’s mouth smiles against your own. It’s contagious, you can’t help but mirror the grin with our own.

In the end, you both look like smiling fools wrapped up in one another’s presence.

Chan scoops you up carefully and stands up from the floor, making sure to avoid any stray shards of glass.

“I’m going to take good care of you, my honey.” He coos and presses another kiss to your forehead. “Your bad day ends here.”

[ihhfhonao3]

Hey y'all just a little bot psa!

Obviously we all know that Tumblr is shit with managing bots. but this is a bit of a bigger issue. Cuz this isn't just a robot posting naked people in the fandom tags, now they're outright stealing posts.

Two examples are below, but I saw another a couple days ago of another bot stealing fanart. once is an accident, twice is a coincidence, but three times is a pattern.

Take a look at the posts and tags, then their posters and times posted. In case it wasn't obvious, @/leggalese and @/aceattorneygamesfan are the original posters of both posts, with these bots copying them word-for-word, tag-for-tag a little bit later. What makes it worse is that leggalese's post was their own fanart. like, they MADE that. with their own hands. and then some bot swooped in and took it.

So I guess this is just a PSA to double check the poster of the fanart you're reblogging, and also for artists to watermark their stuff when possible so nobody can truly "take" it. It helps that @/leggalese is pretty popular in this fandom, so I recognized their artstyle, but it isn't always easy to tell with smaller artists.

afaik, this has only happened with image posts, but look out for bots copying textposts too.

[mercury-lynx]

GUYS. MY COPY OF DAY DREAM HOUR CAME IM LIKE A MONTH EARLY!?!?!?

I am losing my mind. I'm sorry to my irls that have to witness this category 6 autism event tomorrow.

OH ALSO i haven't seen many English readers own this book!! It's really cool, I'm using it in reverse so I can understand a little Japanese (I'm fascinated by language and sentence structures)

I got it at a Japanese book store in the China town district of Seattle :3 the dust cover was so cool so I turned it into a little poster for my wall! Also the guy that worked the register had dungeon meshi enamel pins on his apron HE WAS SO COOL

[qmyschoice]

so this might sound a little weird at first but i y'all to hear me out for a moment.

so the other day i was scrolling through my tl on tw and i saw someone said that phil is mentioned twice in alice oseman's radio silence. i went on to check on my own copy, and it's true. i already knew alice had been a phannie, 'cause she follows both of them + she drew them a few years ago. this wasn't new information. but then i started checking the comments on said tweet, and i saw someone say that heartstopper could be vaguely based on dan and phil.

since then (and bc i became really keen on this idea), i started to kind of like "investigating" and trying to make connections between hrts & dnp and guys... the amount of clear references... i dont understand how it flew over my head for so long. i guess the most obvious one is that is originally supposed to be set in late 2009/ beginning of 2010 (i'm not kidding. look it up)

now that you know this, i beg y'all to re-watch (or maybe watch for the first time if you haven't already) heartstopper, keeping in mind that is kind of a phanfic(? i swear to god, you'll see it. it's literally right there. (also, look up for the muse poster on charlie's bedroom ;))

[cotl-flower-crown]

So @oneofthosenightbees brought a fanfic idea to me and we both agreed that it would fit well in gang au, so here we go, meet gang au Monch! I'm just gonna copy and paste what I wrote in discord and hope it makes sense. (Let me know if I should put up some content warnings)

Mmmm let's see, Monch would probably be one of the citizens of the Faith City who grew up in there her whole life. She used to love the city and she wanted to help it get better the best way she could, so she joined the police forces and eventually was promoted to the position of a detective. Not long after gaining that position Shamura and their siblings started to thrive in their domains and Monch picked up on that. They appear suddenly and begin to shape the city for the better and at the same time a mysterious organisation let itself known to do a bunch of shady business in the city. Monch managed to discover that Shamura and the rest are behind the organisation and she confronts them. Heket and Leshy are ready to kill her, but Shamura pulls her into a discussion. Yes, they are very deep into the organised crime in the city, but at the same time the Faith City have never been doing this well, so is it really something that should be stopped? Doesn't that justifies the means if it's for the better? Whatever Shamura tells Monch, it really messes with her perception of good and evil, but she doesn't back out. She attempts to bring this to the chief police, but they tell her to drop it. In fact if she won't, then they will make her drop it. The best next solution is to take it even higher, outside of the city, but then she's sent a message. A very brutal message. I'm not sure about specifics, but I'm thinking that she was framed into murder by Shamura's goons together with the police, which completely ruined her reputation and she had to hide. With ruined name and a wanted poster nobody would believe her, so dejected, bitter and hopeless she decided to stay in hiding, developing an alcohol addiction in the process. Until a few years later she's sent a message from Lambert, who "hopes" that she might help him "get rid of the evil corrupting the city" and "bring justice for his late family and people like him".

Her and Lambert meet and at this point it's not really a common knowledge that Lambert as a CEO and "owner" of his cleaning company has anything to do with the Red Crowns outside of the gang. So she doesn't really have a reason to not believe Lambert when he tells her how much this city "means" to him and how much he wishes to be able to get rid of the crime infestation, so he and many others can walk the streets feeling safe. But he's just a businessman, he doesn't know how to fight the crime. But maybe she can help him? She was a detective once after all... She sees a little bit of herself in Lambert's act and it sparks a little bit of hope in her once more, to be able to clear her name and bring the city back to it's original glory (which probably never was to begin with). They figured out that the best way to lessen Shamura's influence, is by cutting off their business partners (looking at gRenn rn) and later expose their crimes. Lambert allows her to help him get out the good word for him to the people of interest by working from the shadows. Meanwhile she also does her own research on what's really going on in the city and she warns Lambert about the Red Crowns and how he should stay away from them. She would find all the evidence needed to get police's attention and bring it straight to Lambert, because he's a good man with influence, right? The police will listen to him for sure! While that's going on, she find some loose ends that don't seem to make sense with what Lambert is telling her. Which means that there's either some miscommunications on her part, or Lambert is lying to her. But why Lambert would lie to her? He's a good man, there's no way that he would lie to her, right? They're partners, friends even! It's probably something she got wrong, she tends to do that lately with her issues...

And then she finally sees it. Lambert interacting with Narinder, whom she discovered is the leader of the Red Crowns. Hell, it's almost like they're lovers... but that can't be right! Maybe he doesn't know that Narinder is their enemy? Maybe Narinder manipulated him? So she finally confronts Lambert. And Lambert's mask finally cracks. He laughs, as he was wondering just how long it would take her to figure this out. But it doesn't click with her just yet, huh? Damn, for a detective in her past, she's really shitty at connecting the dots. And the loose ends finally tie together in a fine knot. She wasn't wrong all this time. He was lying to her after all. She wanted to believe so hard in good in people that she didn't notice the blatant snake that was right in front of her. She wanted to believe in the good cause so badly that she didn't realise that she's been working with a wolf in sheep's clothing all this time. He never cared for the good of the city, he's just... He's just like them. And she helped him. It all feels like a nightmare. Except this is worse, because she cannot wake up from it. She couldn't believe how naive she was, how stupid and useless she was to trust Lambert. It is all useless, isn't it? There is no way to save this city. There will always appear another Shamura, another Lambert, who will turn this place into a deeper and deeper pit full of vipers. There is no hope for this place. There is no hope for her... "So what is going to happen now?" she asks "Will you try to kill me? To ruin my reputation once more, like they did? Do whatever you can to assure that your position is safe?" Lambert smiles. "No, I think the damage was already done. Wouldn't you agree?" he says in a silky soft voice that cuts her deeply, as she silently glares at him "No, you've been a great asset to my team and I think it's only fair that you're compensated accordingly for your hard work"

A praise and a reward cut somehow so, so much deeper than if he just stabbed her in the heart right then and there. Because that meant that he treated her as an ally. She did help him after all. How does that make her any better than him? She silently got up and left Lambert behind. The last words he spoke to her was "I appreciate your help, bestie. I'll see you around." with a stiffed giggle. She almost puked at those words. And that was the last time Lambert have heard from her. Who knows what happened, maybe she left the city, maybe she locked herself away, maybe something worse... Lambert wouldn't know or care either way.

The End.

[saranilssonbooks]

100 Moby-Dick covers ranked by your's truly. Thank you so much to all those of you who sent in contributions and helped make this completely out of proportion project a thing. Jars of angelic spermaceti for everyone! 🤍

As for the ranking, it is purely the result of my own personal taste in aesthetics and heavily influenced by my perception of the story. Add to that a generous amount of sentimentality, as shall be apparent.

What I have been mainly looking at in judging the designs is as follows...

- General appearance; is it attractive? 💕

- Does it help sufficiantly communicate the nature of the story (theme, genre, mood, plot)? ⚰️

- Is it canon? (Meaningful creative licence perfectly allowed!) ✅️

As for the tiers themselves, we have...

Topmost Greatness: this is something out of the ordinary, possibly genius and also I neeeeed it for my collection!

A: Good, good stuff, but might lack that very extra special something

B: Gets the job done, agreeable, totally okay.

C: It's not exactly bad and I'll let that oopsie over there slide, but I probably wouldn't pay much for this one.

You Had One Job: Yeah, you did.

Should Never Have Surfaced: Makes the Pequod tragedy look like a merry holiday.

Art thou ready?

TOPMOST GREATNESS

1. The most beautiful Moby-Dick cover I've ever seen. I was almost tempted to create a tier higher than Topmost Greatness only so that I could place it there.

2. Brilliant composition and color choice, despite its simplicity it hits me straight in the soul.

3. I remember drooling over this in the book store back in the day and considered reading it only because it was so gorgeous. Manages to be both crowded and clean at the same time. Story instantly recognizable.

4. The classiest of all time? Forever a winner!

5. I show the image of this one to people to make them understand the creative brilliancy that thrives within the Moby-Dick community.

6. Captures the mood in a fittingly crooked, awkward way that makes my heart beat faster. (Also reminds me of my copy of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest for some reason.)

7. Another sort of awkward one, but I love the style, I love the surreal combination of drama and stiffness, pretty fitting the story itself. Makes 'Hab look a bit like the Grim Reaper.

8. The erratic painting technique gives me the perfect kind of crazy vibes.

9. Moby-Dick, a bibliophile's dream, topmost mood nailing, superior dark academia accessory... what more could anyone wish for in a book?

10. So well thought out and the claustrophobic feel helps to create an unsettling mood despite the otherwise quite cheery colors. Sorry, Madagascar.

11. Look, my two main areas of Moby-Dick interest is Ahab and rhe psychology, so... y'know.

12. Mood certainly set.

13. Guess I have a thing for harpoon/eye symbolism. Again that claustrophobic feel by leaving only a sliver of crowded surface.

14. First physical Moby-Dick copy I ever bought. All the books in this Penguin series are gorgeous, but to me this is one of the design winners regardless of the contents.

15. Unsettled in all this tropical serenity yet?

16. The boldness in color choice and to focus on the fire theme is as unusual as it is exciting, and the very modern touch makes it even more interesting!

A.

17. Not normally a style I'm drawn to, but somehow this manages to capture my interest. A successful nod to the painting at the Spouter Inn, lovely line work. My sibling got me this one as a locket for my last b-day.

18. My beloved companion, by now containing almost as much tape as paper. The 19th century poster design is irresistable to me. A white tail would've been even cooler though.

19. It's not that unique looking, yet the worn feel and harpooned Moby Dick simply gets to me somehow.

20. All the crucial elements skillfully and effectivly forged (no pun intended) together.

21. The way the psychology has been captured and the missing leg detail is yum!

22. Kind of busy but so unique and interesting! Yes plz.

23. Another classic! How could Kent's iconic whale ever fail?

24. Aiming for the adventure theme, it appears, and successfully so. Unusual color choice which I happen to be all about. Total vintage feel!

25. Again, not that much is happening, but the ropes, the character design, the inking... I love you, cover, and I need you in my life!

26. An often used scene, but the style gets to me so, so bad.

27. I'm not that much about the washed out color, but the rest is love.

28. Very basic, but also very nice and display friendly and I enjoy the vibe so much.

29. Almost made it to Topmost, but the positioning of the illustration gives off a cheap feel to me. Why couldn't you have used that gorgeous theme depiction to better advantage? Can one order a remake? Or a cropped poster?

30. Love the composition so much but the technique simply doesn't do it quite enough for me to move up one full notch. Still want it so bad for the collection though.

31. Runny ink on pure white is something I associate with Moby-Dick, don't know why. The blotchiness is a really great touch.

32. The design doesn't say much concerning the content, but nevertheless it is so pretty and am I correct when I say there's harpoon vibes?

33. Had that been a white whale, it would've ended up under Topmost!

34. My first reaction to this was that it's a really interesting piece of art, but I wasn't so sure I liked it as much in book cover form. The more I look at it, the more intrigued and enamoured I get. I want more of this.

35. Ahab and Moby Dick from Ahab's POV? Love the distorted psychedelic atmosphere, but another one with missed full illustration use potential.

B.

36. Brings back the menory of cigarettes and fear. Granny the Gregory Peck fan owned one of these and it freaked me out where she kept it on display ever after I'd been forced to watch the movie at age 6. Now I want one just for the hell of it.

37. Okay, so hear me out. I know it's a children's book, but the illustrator obviously knew the story. Love the tangling rope and that Ahab's prosthetic leg seems made out of whale bone rather than wood for once.

38. Nice modern touch, but that's straight up the New Bedford whaler statue, which kinda ruins it for me.

39. Lovely, lovely design, but I simply don't associate it with a story about suicidal tendencies, gore, and mass death.

40. A somewhat unusual character choice to pose on a cover, but hey, I'll take it! :D

41. Doesn't pop, but I do like me some traditional Japanese art vibes!

42. Elegant, but the huge M obscures the title text and the harpoon looks as if crossed with a sewing needle.

43. Basic, but the feel is there and I like the color combination for this story.

44. Love the art and it's impossible not to identify which story this is, but I have several Ahab design choice questions which won't leave me.

45. This whole thing is odd and busy, but I also really like it!

46. Speaking of Japanese traditional art. The lines and the moodiness is much to my liking.

47. Simple, spot on, nothing that extra.

48. If only he hadn't looked so damn happy about it as if Ahab was about to throw that harpoon like a stick for him to fetch. Untold plot line??

49. There is this whole sub genre of Moby Dick balancing the Pequod, a concept that certainly works, but by now it has to have that little extra something to seem truly special.

50. We have a less erroneous whale, folks! It may be a stock image, but Ishmael gave this one thumbs up, and so how could I possibly do differently? Nicely done!

51. First, I get strong The Old Man and the Sea impressions. Second, what kind of whale do you intend to kill with that thing, my dude? Points for canonical end game beard though.

52. I assume this is meant as a traditional Polynesian art style nod in honor of our dear Queequeg. The sports wear lining texture in the title letters confuses me though.

53. There certainly are plenty of canon here, but also, this is some odd mayhem and where are you aiming, Captain? Yay, ivory leg again!

54. Basic, works perfectly fine.

55. This is a really odd scene choice to pick for a cover, but I love this edition and its illustrations to bits. In fact, I'm planning on posting a review of it soon.

C.

56. I haven't peeked into Melville's mind, but I'm pretty sure the Pequod looked quite different. The story is unmistakable though.

57. Nothing wrong with it, I guess, but way too messy for me to be comfortable with.

58. Not much to say here, but a perfectly nice-looking cover for any book.

59. Gets the job done, but not that inspiring.

60. Despite seemingly little effort behind it, this design based on a 19th century (erroneous) whale drawing could have gone straight up to A. You see, in the original image the (erroneous) whale has his penis (erroneous?) in full view, but on this cover it has been erased. How could I not have given a Moby-Dick book cover depicting dozens of (erroneous) whale dicks A? Alas.

61. Good, professional-looking cover, but judging by the illustration only, I would have guessed this was a children's book about the adventures of a jolly porpoise named Toni.

62. No spoilers to see here or anything. Is that a gold prosthetics??

63. This looks so much like a academic book on psychology. Not too far off, I suppose, but I wouldn't be able to figure out which famous story it is.

64. The Temple toggle harpoon was invented in 1848. Do with this information what you will.

65. Hey! That other cover from before! Have to say that the color alterations and helm sihouette wasn't an improvement.

66. A bit extreme for me.

67. I call this excessive simplicity. If you need a copy of Moby-Dick, you will recognize it at once, but it might not attract new readers merely in itself.

68. Just because it's a children's book doesn't mean the vibe has to be off, but I think it is in this case. Recently posted an example of this illustrator's adorable Ishmael here.

69. Where's the title? Confusing for a cover, but I would love this for a poster of mug! Also, the biggest words are Ahab, Queequeg, and Pequod, which I find mildly insulting towards a certain someone. What was he called again?

70. Cool whale picture which I really like, but the accuracy for Moby-Dick isn't really there.

71. It's blue.

72. I understand the idea and the illustration is awesome, but for me, the vibe is strangely all off and I get almost a comedic feel. Again, that's just me.

73. I often feel like an Ahab apologist and can often be somewhat harsh on the whale, but holy shit! A sort of red herring situation meant to make the reader think Ahab will be the winner?

74. It looks full of action and Scrooge's Ahab cosplay look is really neat, but I have... concerns.

75. I don't remember the scene playing out like this and Ahab is clearly not having it.

YOU HAD ONE JOB

76. The exact face I made the first time I saw this kind of cover.

77. After all the people I've heard at the museum mistaking the sperm whale skeleton for an orca, I'm honestly surprised these fails aren't more common. The snowy setting is a nice touch.

78. Hast seen the white beluga?!

79. First shark Moby-Dick I ever saw and during my first week on Tumblr even. The nostalgia is real, shipmates.

80. Cool scene. Where is it from?

81. Come on! This is a fucking Wordsworth's edition!

82. My sentiments exactly.

83. No, it isn't.

84. At first I seriously thought this was some interesting modern sci-fi/fantasy take on Moby-Dick. Nope.

85. At least the person who did this one bothered to give it a traditional nautical flair.

86. The ocean is canon.

87. *screaming shark mode*

SHOULD NEVER HAVE SURFACED

88. Someone's dad is balancing on top of a fire breathing eel whilst ravens are flying around and a poor guy has dark thoughts in the bottom right corner and... I dunno, man. "Whaling voyage turns fatal obsession" apparently. Moby-Dick the Prequel?

89. Whoa, dude!! I know you're angry, but holy shit!

90. "Captain Ahab? He went that way. Me? Just your average cliché 18th century pirate. If you don't mind me asking, sir, what sort of creature are you?"

91. By "annotated" they mean the truth about Wild Bill Hickok's one time side gig as a whaler. There's a fan fiction idea for ya.

92. What in the everloving AI fuck is happening here?

93. Friends, your guesses are as good as mine.

94. In the early 2020s, the ghost of Melville Herman set out to find the ghost of Moby Dick.

95. I guess we never learned what Ahab's dad died from back in the 18th century. Runs in the family and all that.

96. ?????????

97. If you download a public domain work to sell on Amazon for a possible extra buck, taking one minute to check the basic plot before slapping a stock image on it for a cover will be an actual long term investment.

98. "Lol! U overbite!"

99. Well, he is clearly a zombie whale, so maybe this is the sequel then?

100. And thus endeth MOBY D CK.

[tenpintsof-sundrop]

Did you know that you can reblog fics with tags in order to bookmark them?

Okay the replies on this post are kind of sending me to space, so I figured I needed to make a new post.

I know a lot of people are new to tumblr and might not know how to use tumblr properly, and it does just make me go ??? whenever I look on someone's account and they have 0 reblogs and just have a giant wall of fanfiction in their likes. Because I cannot imagine scrolling through endless fanfiction posts in my likes looking for one fic when organizing things with tags is so much better.

First of all, for new people - reposting and reblogging are two very different things. If a writer has "do not repost" as a disclaimer, they are not talking about reblogging.

Reposting is when you copy and paste someone's entire work, make a brand new post, and then post their work under the implication that it is your own.

Reblogging is a function that is built into the website (and app) that comes up in a creator's notifications, showing that you appreciate their work because you interacted with it. Reblogs always have links back to the original poster so people can find them and follow them.

So - when you hit the reblog button (the one next to the like button that is shaped like a recycling symbol) - you are giving the author credit and encouraging them.

Also, you can use tags on your reblog to organize fanfiction for your own use later!

You can tag by genre -> #smut #angst #hurt and comfort

You can tag by a character's name -> #Spencer Reid #Emily Prentiss #Jennifer Jareau

You can tag by a pairing -> #Spencer Reid x Reader #Emily Prentiss x Reader

If you read fanfic from a lot of different fandoms, you can even structure your tags to include multiple elements -> #Spencer Reid x Reader Smut

A lot of people even reblog fanfics and tag them as #TBR or #to be read - in order to bookmark a fic that they are interested in and want to come back to later.

And you can edit the tags on posts you have reblogged at any time, so if you want to edit something that you have already read and update the tags, you can do that.

I think it's a shame that people aren't taking advantage of this websites very useful features (while supporting fanfic writers at the same time). You don't need to keep links to Tumblr fanfiction somewhere else in order to organize them - if you use Tumblr right, you can keep everything organized within Tumblr and it works perfectly.

[vallettamango]

Camp Half-Blood Headcanons

Things that probably would happen at camp. (Also ik that its set in the 2000s but just ignore I wanted to include some newer pop culture)

They have a annual memory/yearbook for the summer 

Chiron will pick a few kids from different cabins and give them old film cameras to capture moments from camp

Chiron takes the “yearbook” committee  group into nyc for a weekend they develop the pictures and make a single yearbook which Chiron keeps a stack of in the big hall where any campers can look back at past ones in their free time

A few years back at the request of some summer only campers he has started scanning the books digitally and emailing it to campers/parents so everyone can have a copy

They take one big camp group photo on the last day of summer

 There’s a section at the end called “camps most likely to” and/or voted most ____

Here’s a few of them: 

Connor Stoll is most likely to win a pie eating contest

Will Solace was voted most helpful camper

Austin Lake was voted to have the best smile 

Cecil Markowitz was voted to have the best laugh

Alice Miyazawa was voted most likely to stay calm in a stressful situation

Drew Tanaka was voted best dressed (Piper and Leo still think that’s not true camp opinion and that the voting was tampered with)

Nyssa Barrera is most likely to shave her head

the stolls obviously sell contraband to other campers (snacks, weed, makeup etc) 

Apollo cabin has 1 of 2 CD players in camp. When their older siblings would go home for the summer they would burn CDs with requests from everyone in the cabin and bring them back the next summer 

The other one used to be in the big hall and used communally 

It got broken during an intense food fight, everyone blames Ares cabin because their the ones that flipped their table over 

The secluded area at the top of the strawberry field is known as the date spot for older campers 

Aphrodite cabin made an initiative to have the camp supply campers with sex Ed and started a bowl of condoms in the infirm for anyone to take 

Will Solace (and the other counsellors before him) will have dance partys to cheer up their younger siblings. like they'll just turn on music and jam n dance, they even have a specific CD for it. (Lee Fletcher started tradition)

Katie Gardner from demeter and Rachel Dare started baking as a new camp activity during free periods. They also teach about growing your own ingredients and nutritional value 

Hermes cabin (Travis probably) once tried to make slap ass Friday a thing, it didn’t end well.

Definitely at some point some older campers in Demeter were growing weed in the greenhouse and selling it to other campers (in partnership w the stolls who distributed it)

they were stopped after about a month or two by Chiron who was not happy at all 

Once Sherman yang became head counselor of Ares they all got matching pjs (I’m sorry I just love that idea)

Valentina and Mitchell’s from Aphrodite like to braid the mains of the Pegasus 

Athena cabin loves to compete amongst each other of who can do sudoku the fastest, do a crossword first or win scrabble

Clarisse used to take ares cabin on morning jogs everyday 

Once Hephaestus cabin built a giant nerf gun that shot meatballs 

Aphrodite cabin covers their walls in posters of fashion and pop culture icons like: vivienne Westwood, the devil wears prada, Marilyn Monroe, 10 things I hate about you, destiny child etc 

they’re currently obsessed with Sabrina carpenter. Lacy brought the CD of short n sweet and they’ve been listening to it non stop (Apollo cabin has been nice enough to lend them the CD player when their not using it)

A bunch of the younger ish campers were obsessed with the magic tree house book series (iykyk) because the camp had a box set in Ancient Greek (somehow?)

They thought it was cool how the magic treehouse was kind of like the human vs demigod world so relatable in a way

Kids from all the cabins would share them so they got pretty beat up but they were very well loved until the day the binding literally fell apart

For year round campers their end of school year Summative for social sciences (geography, history, Ancient Greek/english) they each research an event in American history then explain how it’s related to a specific god and the impact they had on the event 

They all present them and they can present the project in any form they want (an art piece, a speech,  a retelling of the event etc)

When campers go for their last summer they sign their bunks

After the battle of manhattan or a demigod dies before they get to turn 18 their sibling will sometimes write their names on the bunks for them

Once Aphrodite cabin snuck into other cabins during the day and hid a photo of Channing tatum's abs under the bed slats of all the head counselors

Everyone was just confused when they found this random photo months later  

 If you walk by the communal showers on Apollo cabins shower day and you’ll definitely hear all them harmonizing to baby by Justin beiber