#i really hate tumblr mobile sometimes... =_=

[angelbitezzz]

Now where in the hell did she go?

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(more pictures and writing under the cut)

God damn it. Sans had one job—keep an eye on the human, make sure she rested, keep her out of trouble. Now, as he stared dumbfoundedly down at the obviously empty couch on the first floor, he only had one real thought come floating through his fatigued skull.

"i'm gonna kill that girl."

He threw his soiled jacket somewhere in the corner of his room and snatched his hoodie from where it was hung next to his door, slipping it on as he shoved socked feet into slippers, descending the stairs so quickly he may as well have teleported. Far be it from him to ever move that fast on purpose—apparently, that was another thing she was able to do to him without him knowing, damn it all. Frustration simmered at the back of his throat, but even he knew that the feeling was covering a darker, more icy fear that clutched at the inside of his ribcage and froze into a heavy thing somewhere next to his SOUL. She needed to rest. She needed to stay out of sight for now until they figured things out with her magic. She needed to stay safe, fuck, and even just thinking that sent an uncomfortable rattle up along his spine. He didn't bother opening the front door, he jolted through space and found himself outside a few feet away.

"think, sans, think. where would she—"

His pupils settled on the ground. Blue grass and sand mixed together to create an uneven path leading through the village proper. The isles were on the night cycle now—which, didn't look different, but having something of a curfew helped with the constant feeling of nighttime—so nobody was around save for some real night owl types. Sans had excellent night vision, picking out the disturbed sand leading through the village and far to the left, back towards the entrance. He took a step and jittered to the far end, focused on the footprints leading up, until the grass and sand gave away to stone, ascending on a gentle incline that only grew steeper until it led to a cliff overlooking a majority of the Starlight Isles and surrounding territories.

His steps slowed as a silhouette came into view near the edge, an ambient warm breeze tugging the cape pulled around their shoulders. Briefly, he thought he'd stumbled across Count Koffin K doing something...but when they raised their head to gaze upward, he realized he'd found his target.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and resisted the urge to stomp his way up the cliff to her side.

"and what the hell do you think you're doing?"

Angel startled a little, jerking around halfway and flinching. Burning purple eyes met his own, wide and alarmed.

For a second, he felt like they fit right in with the "stars" in their sky.

"Oh! Oh. Sans. Hey."

"answer the question, human."

"Right. Um." Her gaze trailed away, back over the edge of the cliff. "Well don't worry, I didn't fuck off to, uh...y'know. Yeah. Ye—yeah. I'm just, just..."

He didn't speak, recognizing by the tone of her voice that she was struggling to get her thoughts out. She got scrambled like that sometimes—it reminded him of Alphys...when she wasn't putting on a whole fake persona, anyways.

"...Processing. Mhm."

"your near death experience or your magic?"

"Can it be both?"

He inclined his head and slowly stepped forward, moving to stand beside her. There was a very long pause before he spoke.

"well, uh, anyways. asgore said you gotta rest. my brother'll have a conniption if he finds out you're out here."

"Right. Sorry. I just...really needed to get some air. Please."

Frustration boiled behind his teeth, but he sucked back the smoke and smiled anyways. When she glanced at him, whatever she saw in his expression made her grimace and look away again.

"Don't look at me like that. I'm not dying."

"you nearly did." The lights in his eyesockets extinguished, smile thinning until it was nearly a frown. "like, 6 hours ago. unless you forgot. i mean...wouldn't really be surprised, ya did hit your head pretty hard during your little stunt."

"God, Sans, can you just—not? For once?"

"i dunno what you mean."

She whirled on him, a desperate sort of anger flashing onto her features.

"You know exactly what I mean! Don't kick me while I'm down. I—"

"i'm trying to get you back in bed before anyone sees you, but hey, if you wanna keep acting like a babybones, be my guest."

"I'm NOT—" Angel cut herself off and shut her eyes, drawing Sans's cape around her shoulders tighter and covering her face with a hand. "Not...fuck. Fuck. Sans. I–I don't need you to act like my parent. Be all weird and protective over your brother, but don't...let's not pretend. Don't do the same with me cuz you think you have to. It hurts."

He didn't know what to say, for once. There was a quiet swallowing sound while he searched for something, anything to respond to that. Seconds dragged into minutes before she spoke again.

"...I'm gonna die down here."

"hey, you just said you're not—"

"No, Sans." She interrupted, insistent, voice pitching high and broken. "I'm gonna die down here. This place, it's driving me fucking mental. I don't. I don't know what to do."

Her hand slipped away again, a frightened, tight little grin stretching across her face as she looked at him. It looked like it hurt.

"The sun. I miss the sun. I feel like I've been stuck in a damn time loop where it's always night time and I do the same damn shit every day! Yesterday was the first time in weeks that I felt like something new happened and I completely fucked it. I've been having so much fun here that I forgot that—I forgot. I forgot!" She began to laugh, gesturing to her body frantically, trying to get a point across. "I forgot!"

Sans listened to her speak with an increasing feeling of worry, frustration melting into concern the longer she went on.

"kid—" He started, but she cut him off again, her laughter ceasing as quickly as it had come, turning her body away.

"Don't. Please don't. I don't think I could stand if it you started with the pity train."

"wasn't the pity train, was more like the empathy express."

His weak attempt at humor did bring a smaller, more genuine twitch of her mouth than whatever fake grin she'd been trying to keep up. How had she ever managed to fool him before? In hindsight, it was obvious now, all the times she'd been pretending at joy.

Ah, but then, she was the perseverant kind of person. Maybe she was just...used to that.

He didn't want to know why.

"i was just gonna say...you're not alone."

He reached out and set a hand on her shoulder, struggling to find the words. Sun sickness had been a lot more prevalent back during the aftermath of the war—he had no experience dealing with it directly.

"it ain't so bad. you're still here. people down here like you."

"...Do you even like me?"

"huh?"

Angel turned her head just a little, enough to catch his gaze with her own. She looked exhausted, the warm breeze threatening to spill the tears welling up in her eyes.

"I pay attention, you know. You—god, Sans, you only tolerate me cuz I'm friends with Papyrus, right? Sometimes I feel like we get along great, and then something happens and you just...act off. Am I that much of a burden to you? Should I just leave?"

His thoughts flashed back to the day before. The panic that had thrummed through his body at the mere thought of losing her, that same panic that had brought him out here looking for her in the first place.

"i..." He hesitated. "...think it's been a long day, angel. you're tired and homesick and still coming down from the adrenaline high from earlier. you'll feel better in the morning."

Angel just gazed at him for a long, long moment. Those purple eyes searching for something in his expression before they went lax, her face flattening.

"...You're right. You're right. I'm just..." A lump in her throat. The tears began streaking down her face, dripping off her chin. "...so tired."

"hey." His voice was soft now, softer than she'd heard it before. "...i get the feeling, bud."

Her shoulders shaking, she raised a hand and slipped it over the one he had on her shoulder just for some measure of comfort, head ducking and turning away as she quietly hiccuped. He let her hold him there, warm fingers on chilled bones as she anchored herself again in the present.

It was a good long while before she let him take her home.

...

"Hey, Sans...?"

"mhm?"

"I forgot my glasses. You're gonna have to lead me back."

[herearedragons]

the thing about giving Aqun a Solas romance is that I have to plan out every conversation between these two like it's a chess match or perhaps some other kind of highly strategic game

[marshmellowtea]

idly thinking here but honestly i think if this blog went down then i'd just be done with tumblr forever. like.....that's it. this is the blog i've had for as long as i've had a tumblr account, i'm not built like the people who can start again and remake over and over again. it'd be a sign that i just need to be done with this website for good i think.

[sharkieboi]

genuinely glad that there’s buttons for Alt text on images now but that button is opaque black and large and by being in the bottom left of the image ends up COVERING captions or other words that are in the image itself and there’s no option to not see the button or make it more see-through so what did we really accomplish here 🙃

[sundial-bee-scribbles]

Yeah like what’s the point of even having anon features if they can’t use your website?????? Like on certain blogs I can’t even view them without being blocked????? I don’t understand????

And I can’t talk to people if they don’t have a submission box which is awkward because not many people have a submission box that I can see! -🌟

══════════════════ 

well the blog thing is most likely that some people have set it to not be visible outside the tumblr dashboard; some people just don’t want their blog viewable to anyone outside of tumblr and there’s a number of reasons why that could be, it’s their own personal decision

the submission/ask box thing can sometimes be a case i know of new users forgetting to turn it on, but sometimes too its deliberately turned off (or limited, like anons being turned off and only other users can ask qs) for, again, a number of different reasons (︶︿︶)

[applecore6]

cw: use of she/her

“Do you think if we went to high school together we’d be together? Like high school sweethearts?”

“Hm?—” Her head perks up at the sound of his voice before processing the question. “—Oh we did go to high school together.”

“Hah?” Kuroo’s caught off guard by her matter-fact tone—as if it was common knowledge.

“Mhm. You went to Nekoma, right? I do recall hearing about the volleyball team. Weren’t you guys like really good?” She’s being way too nonchalant about this..

“Good is an understatement— What do you mean we went to high school together?”

“I mean we both attended the same educational facility??”

“No I mean, why have you never told me?”

She hums a sound as if saying I don’t know

“I’m not really one to come up to people and say “Hey, I recognize you. Did we go to school together?” that’s just breeding grounds for embarrassment.” She continues tapping on the screen in her hands, playing the mindless mobile game that just finished downloading. “Plus high school was a horrible time for me. I try not to dwell on it.”

“Horrible?” He tries not to pry. Tries.

“Yeah. Horrible.”

They had only been dating a couple months. A group assignment in their biology class marks the first interaction they ever had. He thinks about what she said a little.

“So.. if you hated high school so much, what drew you to me,” he vocalizes.

“The eccentric hairdo,” she replies curtly. “No but— I don’t know I’m not the best with words at the top of my head, but you really.. opened me up(?) not in a weird way. I just would’ve never voluntarily gotten to know a guy like you, but we started—y’know— being with each other a little more, and I thought, woah this guy is not what I expected at all.”

The words coming out of her flow out into the air straight into Kuroo’s brain. He feels the entirety of his face heat up at such a vulnerable confession from her.

“Umm.. back to the original question,” he mumbles out.

“Huh— oh yeah. No I don’t think we would’ve dated in high school. I was waayy too cynical. I probably grouped you with the rest of the jocks. At least now I know you’re a harmless little shit.”

Despite the lighthearted atmosphere, Kuroo couldn’t help but feel a little let down(?).

She hums out a sound at the sight of his face. If he had cat ears they’d definitely be pointed down.

“Hey. What’s with the face, don’t tell me you’re hurt little 17 year old me didn’t wanna date 17 year old Kuroo,” she teases him, but she can’t help the little bubble of pride she felt in her chest.

“I don’t know you’re just, you know, you. You’re really cool, and to be honest I’m kinda-what’s the word- I don’t know like. You’re telling me I could’ve known you even longer, spent even more time with you, maybe even know you a little better.” The words on his mind spilling out his mouth faster than he realizes.

It’s silent. She feels her chest tighten a little, and the feeling drops down to her stomach, spreading throughout her body. If this were a dumb 90s cartoon, she would’ve definitely gone comically red with hearts floating around her head like birds.

“Don’t worry you didn’t miss much—”she pauses thinking of the right way to word what she’s thinking “—I don’t remember much from high school if I’m being honest, but I remember the first time we met, I remember getting to know you, and I remember it felt good. I understood what people meant when they talked about young love, it feels like life before meeting you was kinda blurry, sometimes I forget that I’m a full fledged adult that’s lived years before this.”

It’s buzzing in both his ears. He doesn’t know what to say except—

“I love you, too”

Maybe they didn’t take the first chance they had together, but they’re with each other now. And they know they’ll be with each other tomorrow.

my writing is very bland and dialogue heavy, but i’m trying to get into it which is why im just vomiting into my tumblr drafts rn. forcing myself to write so i can get better T_T. theyre also very dialogue heavy cuz i dont rly have many ppl to yap to so in my head im having yap sessions with these characters.

this is kinda inspired by troy and annie from community with little crumbs of myself. (i fear im projecting myself onto the reader too much, but who cares this is my outlet)

[the-s1lly-corner]

i'm really embarrassed to make this request because I'm like, the person who least knows how to use tumblr and i've never even made a comment, but I love your writing so I'm going to try request

can you do jax, caine or raghata (whatever you feel most like writing) x a goth reader who is actually a very sweet person? (the kind of person who looks like he eats bats for breakfast and kicks puppies, but it will be really affectionate and kind) also it would be cool if the reader played eletric guitar, but that's just my ego that is proud to play speaking for me, it's not really necessary

sorry if I wasn't really clear, if the request is cringe or if my english is bad, it's not my first language so i'm trying my best

Jax, Caine, and Ragatha x sweet!goth!reader !

This isnt a weird request at all! Actually this is pretty tame/normal(????) Compared to some requests (trust me I've gotten requests that are far weirder than this that I didnt even bother publicly denying because the subject material was just so.....

You know?

Written on mobile!!

Gonna do this request then let my phone charge and then get back on requests!! Been slacking a little this week

CAINE:

Honestly I think caine absolutely LOVES your style. Like obviously you may look a little funky since you know, digital world.. but I think he would still be allured by your looks... he is totally thrown for a loop when you reveal your personality though.! Not that hes complaining, though, he has a sweet tooth, you know

He WOULD use that line, too

Oooo if you're able to do your makeup and it's not just a part of your face he would love to sit with you and help you

RAGATHA:

I dont think she would hate goth fashion, but I do think she would be a little intimidated by how intense you look... I mean, you look like you're into really intense stuff

Except

You're not

I think she would feel really... really bad.. when she gets to know you and finds out you're one of the sweetest people shes ever met

Likes listening to you play your electric guitar.. sometimes makes song requests!

Loves playing with your hair

....

I think she would let you dress her up and do her makeup, if you offer

JAX:

Getting this out of the way; OUR FAVORITE HC! THE FIDGET HC!! if you have any dangling accessories jax is going to fidget and play with it

Torn between making jax the type to tease you or think it looks cool...

Both, I can see him doing both

Its thinly veiled hints of him being into your aesthetic/style

You kind of see the gears working in his head when he realizes you don't act at all how he thought you were gonna act

So sweet.. so kind...

Such a.. vulnerable target for his pranks!!/j

But actually../hj...

I think he would be into goth people tbh Idk why it just dawned on me

[squishsquishy]

Stimboard Ask Game (or stimboard inspo!)

For others that also need stimboard inspo. Just send the number in their ask box or you can use a random number generator to pick out a prompt! These are kinda random, idk if I had a theme going I just wanted to make them.

What Pokémon type would you train if you were a Pokémon trainer or gym leader? Here are some character creators for insp or the middle image of your stimboard: 1 2 3

Do you have a fursona or a dnd character you really love? Here are some character creators for insp or the middle image if you don’t have art of your character: fursona creator Reddit thread dnd piccrew tumblr thread

What’s a video game you keep seeing around and want to play? Even if it’s something from when you were little and you’ve always wondered about it!

What’s a show you keep seeing around and want to watch? Even if it’s something from when you were little and you’ve always wanted to check it out.

What are some of your friend’s and/or family’s hyperfixations or special interests that you love hearing infodumps about, but aren’t into personally? Or maybe you just haven’t checked it out and keep meaning to.

What’s your favorite arcade game?

What’s your favorite handheld console game or mobile game?

What’s your favorite niche character from your current hyperfixation or special interest?

What’s a character from your current hyperfixation or special interest you love to hate or just feel indifferent to?

Who’s your favorite mascot?

What’s an aesthetic you’ve been into lately?

Favorite dinosaur/prehistoric creature

Favorite plants or flowers

Outfits or makeup you wish you had or you want to get sometime

If you could cosplay who would you cosplay? If you do cosplay, who’s up for your next convention/meet up

If you could express your gender with an animal and/or food, what would it be?

If you could express your gender with an aesthetic what would it be?

What are your favorite stims that need more love? (If you can’t find multiple gifs mix it up with ur fave stims that have enough love or make ur own gifs/vids to share!)

What’s your favorite auditory stim right now? Try to translate it into a stimboard!

What’s a queer headcanon for your favorite character ?

What’s a queer headcanon you have for a character you kin?

What character did you enjoy most in the last game you played?

What side character did you like most in the last show you watched?

A song that’s always stuck in your head (not necessarily your fave song)

An album or song you’ve been wanting to listen to but haven’t yet

A pet you always wanted as a kid but haven’t had yet or you can’t have as a pet

An art medium you want to try or an art medium you admire

Do you prefer savory, sour, salty or sweet food? Or a combo?

What food(s) have you been wanting to try or try to cook?

Favorite textures or texture combos

An oc you haven’t drawn or written for lately

An oc crackship

A crackship from 2 different fandoms / media

characters you think would be besties from different media

A character that reminds you of a friend or a stim blogger!

[nightpool]

got any thoughts on when i win the world ends now that its over?

got distracted and lost my SECOND attempt at answering this ask bc the tumblr mobile app STILL doesn't save ask drafts. hate this stupid app.

anyway, really enjoyed the ending. wasn't as blown away by it as I was by, e.g. Fargo's ending but I definitely think an understated approach worked better for the thematics of the story. wish i had more time in Cely's world though. need a million words about toril and cely's idyllic domestic bliss. need a different million words about the secret underground wars the IPL gets up to.

on that note, it reminded me a lot of Consider Phlebas. Which isn't any surprise, given the subject matter. and Player of Games! Banks has his hands all over this fanfic, doesn't he. kind of surprised I never noticed the connection before, but this is exactly the kind of ending a Culture novel would have.

really sad we never really got to figure out what's going on in Red's head of his. maybe i should go back over the story with a fine-tooth comb and see if I can figure out what that means. but it does feel more realistic that way—sometimes there's just always a bigger fish. If I had one complaint, i guess its that the world felt a little small for the stakes we were supposedly playing in. like, it's realistic to the small circles of top level esports but feels a little weird for the amount of Geopolitical Weight that we're told hangs on pokebattling. but I guess that's intentional like, the world *should* feel hollow for the thematics to work. there's an argument to be made that the whole thing could have been set at Kanto regional finals or whatever and left open a larger world.... idk. I'm still really curious about Lachlan's demographics arguments.... does it just boil down to something mundane like "money & proximity to the imperial core brings talent and training"?

The story works best for me, I guess, as an argument against Narrativization. Everybody in the story has their own little Narratives, their own little storylines they're selling or ways to make sense of what the world means. Cely committed suicide because she didn't have a narrative, she found one, but it ended up dropping out from underneath her. Mean reversion. Eventually, for everybody in the story, reality intrudes. So it doesn't really matter whether Cely's powers sent Toril or not—it's not part of her narrative anymore. she's learned to move beyond it in order to live—just living day to day without having to Narrativize her life to the same exent. Or at least the story wants us to think so!

[cyberphuck]

The Patreon Post

SO HERE'S THE DEAL: I do not want to make anyone have to pay to see my art.

Let's be real: there are like fifty bajillion other, more skilled, and better-known artists on Patreon putting out more detailed, more unique, more in-demand, and just more art than I am (or want to). I'm a self-taught, frequently distracted amateur who's had an iPad for a year. I'm not gonna pretend that I am going to be able to pull in more Patreon subs-- or keep them, for that matter-- on the strength of my random doodles alone. I have never really thought or even hoped that I could do that, because it would mean Doing Art As A Job, and I absolutely do not want to associate "drawing" with "work." (I also don't have the means, time, motivation or experience to self-promote and/or keep a small community of followers entertained, and even the thought of having to do all that on top of having to Draw For Work is terrifying.) There's the self esteem-destroying gutpunch that someone with BPD (me haha!) receives when they ask if something they created is "worth" a certain amount and are answered with silence. (If you have BPD, you know that 'silence' is so much worse than 'no.') I don't think that anyone is actually saying my work is worthless any more than I think stairs were invented to fuck over people with bad knees, but I want to avoid one for the same reason I avoid the other: hurts and bad for healing. And also, maybe most importantly, most of the fans of my work are my friends, and most of my friends are poor people. I do not ever want someone to have to choose between "Eggman weeping as he cradles a slain Speedy Gonzales" and "rent." Lots of people I know just don't have any money to spare even for professionally made entertainment, or, like me, sometimes they have money (yay, beginning of the month!) and sometimes they don't (booo, end of the month). I'm not gonna put a paywall between my friends and my art. So, as always, you can view all of my art on Patreon for free, without an account*. (*you will have to have an account to view NSFW stuff but this will be in the 'free' tier as well.) H O W E V E R. You guys I am so fucking poor. If you follow my blog you know the whole story already-- mental illness, chronic illness, chronic mental illness, surprise rescue puppies, surprise fines from the city, the fukken recently concussed clown show that is social services in my area-- and you've seen me having to crowdfund for everything from food to gas to dog emergencies. We budget down to the cent and have cut out so many things (like the meal replacement shakes for my eating disorder lol) and we're still not making ends meet. I've got friends who help, and they help a lot, but I hate the miserable, humiliating task of asking for help every single month. (You guys also know that I don't have family that can help me, even if shit goes critical. I was on my own while I was a homeless sex worker, on my own when we lived in a shed with no windows, on my own when we were in a house with no heat and only one source of running water, and definitely on my own now, in desperate need of mobility aids, house cleaners, and a god damn break.)

So here's where I'm at: I can't ask a few people for a lot of support, but I can ask a bunch of people for a little bit. If you like my art and want to help me keep making it, want to help me make shitpost replies to people on the internet, want to help me do free askbox art challenges: Put your doodle prompt requests in the askbox. You can even request stuff anonymously! Participate in polls about what prompts you wanna see. Reblog the art you like, show off the doodle you got, leave keysmashes in the tags. The more people see the post, the more statistically likely it is we'll find the one person on Tumblr with disposable income. Also, people should know they can get free art when the prompts are live! Sub to the Patreon if you can spare three bucks a month (you can also do Ko-fi if you don't want to make a Patreon account). Ko-fi is also a good place to just plunk something into the tip jar once in a while. There are Artcards and Monthly Sketch sub tiers on Patreon for a little bit more, but I will send an Artcard to pretty much anyone who asks as long as I have some left. The art is free, it will always be free. But if you can, spare a dollar (or three).

[imbecominggayer]

Part 3 Writing Advice: Stop The Self-Hating Narrative Around Disability

I'm BACK! I was working on some other Tumblr posts but i've decided to fulfill my promise to talk about the common associations people seem to have between disability and self-hatred.

You remember my own slogan "Disabled Adults Are Adults", right?

Well, here is the slogan for the majority of writers who are bad at writing good disability representation "Disabled Adults Are Tragic :`(

This association comes into everything so we'll go from the small chunks of ableist LOOORE~ and then move onto the really big ticket items? Right!

Assistive Aids Are Traps Designed By The Illuminati!

What do these common literary phrases have in common?

Confined to a Wheelchair

Forced to Use a Cane

Cursed To Always Use [Assistive Aid]

The answer: they are exceedingly negatively charged which incorrectly imply that mobility aids such as wheelchairs are horrible fates to be falled upon! This implication that living with disability is such a curse tends to be most forced upon "understandable" villains and sympathetic "tragic" figures who are "unbearably cursed" with a horrid fate

Those phrases are horrible not just because they incorrect imply that devices such as wheelchairs and other mobility aids are curses when, in reality, the individuals who use these assistant aids desperately need them in order to exercise their full potential but also due to the fact that it's an able-bodied centric perspective!

People who actually use these devices don't see them as unbearable weights bringing them down but tools of freedom and autonomy. Obviously, independence is not necessary to lead a fulfilling life but it's a nice cherry on top!

This "able-bodied centric perspective" will come up again!

Curing Disability

At the end of the story i'll cute and sweet protagonist/main character will be forcibly mutilated into an able-bodied person either by machinery in a sci-fi setting or through the gods.

p.s that's just eugenics. eugenics is what the nazis did

Curing disability doesn't just mean a literal cure but also the overall narrative of "overcoming" disability tends to be here.

"Overcoming disability" is when an author implies that through a character's dedication they have "overcame" the limitations of their disability and are functionally no longer disabled.

Basically, if you have a disabled character whose jokes tend to center on "wow, I always forget you are disabled" or "I am the author and I keep forgetting this character has a disability", you have this trope.

The reason why this is shitty is because you, able-bodied author, have disabled readers. Disabled readers of various different types of disabilties who are reading your story.

Can you imagine if every single story of an able-bodied character involved them being forcibly turned disabled as a "reward" for their good behavior?

Can you imagine if every story involving a queer character involved that singular queer character being turned into a cishet individual?

"Disabled people still exist even when your character stops being disabled"

All you have done is tell disabled and non-disabled audience members that disabled people don't deserve to exist. That's bad.

Final: The Self-Hating Narrative

"Disabled Adults are Adults"

When I was inventing that phrase, I knew it needed to be universally applicable. The only reason I specificed "adults" and not "people" was due to the fact I was talking about infantilization in the first part and I didn't want someone to be like "well, obvi special needs kids are going to be treated delicately".

Anyway, the phrase needed to be universal because disabled adults are just people at the end of the day. They struggle with some not universal things like chronical illness or disability. They also struggle with the universal things like: can I support my family, am I ready, will the bank be closed by the time I wake up, can I be a good person?

They also succeed. Sometimes this success is in the form of gaining more mobility then before. Sometimes this success will seem minor to not disabled people or even to disabled people who have never struggled with that particular thing before.

They also succeed at things we succeed at. They create what has never been created before. They prove to themselves that they can be relied on. They laugh when they struggle.

Yes, they sometimes hate themselves. But even then, they continue on. They struggle with their symptoms day-to-day on top of succeeding in the daily struggles we all deal with. They deal with ableist remarks while also having fun.

Disability Is Normality

Many disabled adults and children are fighting for the right to see narratives in which their lives aren't plagued by melodramatic angst about being disabled.

Many disabled adults and children go about their daily lives with an overwhelming confidence about their disability and don't give a shit about what ableist remark you have to say.

And one of the most important things an author needs to be if they ever want to write true, inspiring, and universal works is to listen to voices of those they wish to represent.

If an author wants to represent disabled people living disabled lives in fantasy and reality, they need to listen to the perspectives of those who are actually living those lives. Sure, they may be lacking in terms of how to fly a dragon but humanity is humanity with or without the added uniqueness.

If an author just takes a ableist-covered crap-filled myths of what disability is like, expect backlash! Or maybe expect nothing, disabled adults have way too many concerns to be dealing with your sorry ass.

[petite-gloom-mail]

do you dislike interacting with your followers? sometimes it seems so (kinda). not in a rude way just really trying not to connect beyond what's necessary for them to endorse you :(

no, i enjoy it in places like youtube comments and patreon- it’s just that on tumblr it’s almost constant and that can be a lot (especially autistically i guess). i have hundreds of inboxes between my two tumblr accounts and i receive tons more each day which makes it hard to stay on top of. then people send me follow up messages because i haven’t replied and they’re disappointed

i also still get a lot of invasive, weird, and sometimes hateful messages and that’s also not great. all of the above can just make it difficult sometimes to face checking all my messages and then trying to navigate which ones to try and answer. does that make sense?

recently im just so tired and i really just come on here to check my queue and see what my mutuals are up to. on mobile i cant see the numbers to remind me of the inbox so its all just resulted in less answering. its not personal its just very overwhelming

[goodluckclove]

Are You a Writer That Isn't Writing? Join Me Inside My Blanket Fort!

Hi! Welcome! It's so good to see you. i've just been hanging out here, kind of listening to my favorite podcast and drinking some green tea. I have another bottle here - do you want to try? It has lemon in it. It's sweet, but not too sweet. Just like I like it.

Yeah, so I might need to introduce myself. My name is Clover, but you can call me Clove. I've been a write for fifteen years and I've finished fourteen novels. I published one and I'm working on the sequel. I've written and produced plays, published short stories, and even worked as a copywriter and ghostwriter. That wasn't very fun. Actually, the writing was fun, but they brough in AI right at the end - it's a long story. Anyways, what I mean to say is that you could consider me a working writer. If you go through my blog I post a lot of snippets from what I'm working on. You can even Google my old pen name "Miranda Seaver" and find some columns and stories and I think a short play I had some strangers do over Facebook.

I'm not saying this to brag. I'm saying this because I've been doing this for a long time and I want you to have context to the work I've done as we keep talking to each other. If you read what I write and you don't like it, maybe you can decide that I have no idea what I'm talking about. That's fine. We can still be friends!

Okay, so you're probably here because you're having trouble writing. Either that or you just can't resist the allure of a blanket fort - that makes sense too. But assuming you're unable to write for some reason, I just wanted to speak to you in private. Because I know it's hard. I know it's disillusioning. And though there's this weird perception online that writers are supposed to hate writing, I personally believe the situation is a lot more nuanced than that.

Maybe you're scared. Or you're tired. Or the whole act of sitting down and writing feels so big and clumsy and unwieldy as it bounces around your head that you don't know what to do with it. The weight of it doesn't feel right. It happens - it happens to me too sometimes, and it never feels good. But it's a natural part of the creative process and it's more of a slight mishandling rather than massive sin or flaw of character.

It might not help that there's so much advice online, isn't there? It seems all these people have a set guide to how to do literally everything. There's some sort of odd binary to the creative process that some make it seem as if writers innately fall under. You're either a pantser that never outlines, or a plotter that only structures. Every draft has have a specific focus, and you must follow an arc to achieve any specific goal in your character or plot.

That's a lot! Isn't that a lot? I've been talking to a lot of new writers on here who find all of that information - especially the information that conflicts (A lot of them) to be deeply intimidating. If not intimidating, then just slightly...off. Potentially enough to make the act of opening a word processor and slamming out a few hundred words to not really seem like that much fun anymore.

See, there are useful writing resources on tumblr. People with unique experiences sharing their specific information in a public space where writers can benefit from it. How would a certain mobility aid impact a person's life? What are the physical ramifications of training on a sword? Look at this picture of some sickass gems of different colors! These are all super cool things that I find incredibly useful for both current and future reference.

On the other hand, the guides that speak structurally to writing? That try and tell you the exact steps to follow in order to achieve a certain result? A lot of them end their posts by plugging their ko-fi but don't actually show any of their own personal writing? They don't necessarily have the answers.

If you read some prompt list and it inspires you, that's cool and great! Our brains think of a lot of really innovative things based on the smallest spark of input and that's a truly incredible thing. But if you read someone who makes a list of ways to show a certain emotion and you're left confused and discouraged - consider that they're wrong. Or not wrong, not really. They just don't have the right story.

For other forms of writing advice, maybe they're right - only not in a genre you want to write in. That's the weird thing about all these writing blogs that don't actually say what they write or read. If I was looking for writing advice, I wouldn't go to someone who specializes in reading and writing political thrillers or mysteries. They're valid genres, just not what I specifically do.

You just can't make grand blanket statements about this kind of thing, and that's an unpleasant truth I think we all need to hear.

Every writing rule has been broken successfully. The Dharma Bums, and frankly anything else Jack Kerouac has ever written, has truly no plot. American Psycho chains you to a truly reprehensible protagonist. Naked Lunch was written in one long chunk that was then cut up and rearranged, and then that nonsense was published. If On a Winter's Night a Traveler takes YOU (literally you - half the narrative is written in second person) and sends you on a wild goose chase where every other chapter is a different book. Kurt Vonnegut has a literal self insert of himself that shows up as a side character in Breakfast of Champions and then takes role in the lead cast in Timequake. Read a Chuck Palahinuik book and he will lie to you three time at least. Read House of Leaves and you'll feel like you're wandering a contemporary art gallery. I can't fucking get past the first 60 pages of Ulysses but I've been TRYING for YEARS because the prose is BEAUTIFUL.

I'm rambling. What I mean to say is that - you know Monet? Manet? Degas and Renoir, and all the other painters of the Impressionist era? They make the kind of paintings you probably think of if I ask you to imagine a painting you'd find in an art museum. They're respected - idolized, even. People will dedicate their lives to painting in honor to the legacy of Impressionism.

This would be a great surprise to early Impressionists, who were mocked mercilessly for their work. The name itself - Impressionism - was a reclaimed dig at how their art style was an impression of actual art. The road for it to even be CONSIDERED art, much less respected AS art, was a long one.

I'm rambling again, aren't I? I had a lot of this green tea. I just hate to hear so many people refuse to develop the ideas in their heads for one reason or the other. Or, even worse, they circle the brainstorming stage over and over again, far past the point of usefulness. I agree that some people function better with some form of an outline. I outline in my own way, through short form bullet points or taking space to storyboard in my head to music. It can help! But even if you work better with structure, there's a good chance that you don't need that much structure.

You can't fail here. You truly can't, I promise you. If you finish listening to me and you crawl out of the blanket fort and write two paragraphs, nothing bad will happen. If it's not the strongest thing you've ever written, that's okay. We're writers, aren't we? If you write something that you don't like, you aren't a fraud. You aren't weak. You aren't a hack. You haven't failed. You don't lack creativity or imagination or motivation.

Here's the truth: If you write something you don't like, you're a writer who wrote something you don't like. It doesn't mean you're bad. It doesn't even mean the writing is objectively bad. That's it.

Writers tend to be dramatic. I know I am. I laid on the couch for an hour trying to wrestle with act three of my newest book, and as my wife tried to talk me through it I slowly sank off the couch and onto the floor. Much as a slug would. If you ever get into that mindset, that's just a thing that happens when you're an artist. I think in the Hemmingway days writers would drink or smoke until they had the strength to try again.

We've seen how that turns out though. So welcome to the new era of writers who - though occasionally neurotic - try again at some point. And everyone is welcome. As I said already, there are no real rules or guides to the structure of writing, only ideas. And if you don't like the idea, you can look or think of another one.

And you can think of another one. Assuming you don't just have a drastically unrealistic perception of how much societal clout you can achieve by saying you're a writer (Answer: nearly none), you clearly want to tell a story. I haven't met a single person with that dream that has it based on nothing. The situation is so much more vast and complicated than the internet will try to make it out to be. Did you see some variation of the Apple Test and decide that your Aphantasia means you can never be a writer? Consider reading up on the Aphantasia Network to get a better look at the condition and learn more about what it means for you. Imagination is nuanced and it is absolutely not limited to Overall Apple Clarity!

Okay, that's all I have to say. I just want to see more people here putting their ideas to paper because a lot of them are really good and interesting, and they deserve to be seen. The feeling of writing your story is so much more complex and rich than just thinking about it, I promise. I know you can do it.

Okay okay. I have to pee. This was a long talk! I'm going to scoot past you in the fort now, but I think before you go on with your day you should maybe check out a video I think you'd like.

Have a nice day, Friend!

oh and this too.

yeah nice

[freshcuntgrass]

An unflattering assumption I have about every NPC in Stardew Valley

Sam: gave Gus a fake ID to get alcohol. Jodi never goes to the saloon and Kent is afraid he forgot how old Sam is, so he's never getting called on it

Sebastian: has ruined at least one online D&D group playing an edgy lone-wolf rogue with no parents

Maru: still brings up her SAT score in conversation sometimes

Demetrius: has the Neil deGrasse Tyson thing going where he assumes every field is easy because he's good at biology. Maru finds this endearing with her gadgets; he is banned from looking at Sebastian's code

Wizard: same as Demetrius but ten times worse

Robin: first marriage ended because she slept with the wizard (Sebastian is his). What can I say, she likes em brilliant, socially awkward, and just a little insufferable

Clint: you KNOW this man's on Reddit and you KNOW he does not have a healthy relationship with it. I am begging Sebastian to "fix some tech problems for him" (install a secret browser extension block on the manosphere subreddits)

Elliott: hair-trigger crier. Poems, books, the end of every rom-com, songs you do not think it should be possible to cry during, noticed the cat sleeping in a really cute way, remembers that he lives near the ocean... honestly he'd have a lot more written by now if his entire day wasn't taken up by crying and hair care

Willy: has lived alone too long, holds conversations with most objects in his house

Leah: has NEVER swept or mopped the floor of that cabin. You can't see it in the pixel art but it's a biohazard

Pierre: Twitter power-user, unironically calls it X

Caroline: doing her own research on the COVID vaccine

Haley: Swiftie

Penny: even bigger Swiftie

Abigail: Homestuck

Alex: media literacy so bad he doesn't realize the insane homoeroticism of Top Gun

Harvey: terrified that someone in town will look closer at the degree on his wall and realize he's technically an RN, not a doctor, and then it'll just be awkward

Lewis: that truffle oil was for pegging

Evelyn: "secret family recipe" is boxed chocolate cake mix with mayonnaise instead of the oil

George: Hey... um... hey guys? Where was George on January 6th?

Pam: Hey guys, where was Pam on January 6th???

Gus: definitely drunk behind that bar most of the time. He gets away with it because it comes across as "jolly"

Linus: can't go back to Zuzu City. He knows what he did

Jodi: biggest Swiftie of them all. She name-searches. Yes, she's still on Tumblr. Hi Jodi, your fave is mid, looking forward to the anon hate :)

Kent: agrees with Alex that Top Gun isn't gay. Nothing's gay in the military

Sandy: unreal amount of mobile gaming going on back behind that counter. stop sending me Farmville requests

Marnie: actually accepts Sandy's Farmville requests. Keeps texting Shane minion memes

Shane: the real unflattering assumption with Shane is when you correctly clock a fellow Stardew Valley player as a Shane girlie. In our defense, he's going through a lot and we can fix him.

Krobus: eats those void eggs raw. Cracks the shell and drinks em. Slurp slurp bitch

Dwarf: honestly HUGE drug dealer vibes. Miner's Treat has got to be the dwarves' version of cocaine, right?

Vincent and Jas: safe for now, I don't roast anybody under 12. once we hit like year 5 I'm coming for you though

Emily: wants to reblog this but can't. her queue is full and she's hit post limit

[eepyuii]

frostbite — pt. 3

pairing ; childe x gender neutral!reader

content ; childhood friends to “rivals” to lovers, slowburn-ish

cw ; mentions of blood, wounds, passing out from exhaustion and anxiety attacks (sort of)

note ; FUCK you mobile tumblr posting format, i HATE you >:[ also backstory chapter oOooOo…

previous | next | masterlist

sometimes the memory of his disappearance flashes into your mind like the sunlight that creeps into the window at early dawn. blindingly.

on the rare afternoons that you weren’t with ajax, either at his house or outside playing, you were home with your mother. more often than not baking.

the warmth of the fireplace in the living room had already latched itself onto the other parts of the house, you’d have to thank your father for lighting it this morning before he left for work. speaking of your father, the very apple cake you were currently baking with your mother was his own request. almost instinctively peeling the apple skins, she blabbered on about how many baking recipes you’d need to know by heart if you were to ever even be a functioning adult, much less the safe and cozy housewife she hoped for.

you say blabbered because you truly were not paying any attention, much preferring to draw figures on the sheet of leftover flour that gracefully covered the surface of your countertop. that same flour coated your arms up to the shoulders- yet absurdly, your little hand-sown apron was left spotless.

though, that wasn’t nearly as absurd as the sight outside your window.

treading the snowy ground of the forest surrounding your house, just outside of it even, was ajax. he carried a small sack over his shoulder and his treasured wooden sword with him. he paid no mind to the fact that he was just walking past his best friend’s house, no- instead he looked straight ahead with a fire in his eyes you’d never seen before.

where on teyvat could he be going?

“hm? oh, look honey, isn’t that ajax right outside? were you two planning on playing together today?” your mother commented half-mindedly.

“not really, no…”

“then where on teyvat could he be going on his own?” ironic.

you couldn’t bring yourself to answer her at the time, too absorbed in the gnawing feeling in your gut that, other than the obvious strange scene before you, something wasn’t right. you needed to go after him. the speed in which you put on your boots and heavy jacket is almost inhuman and you didn’t even realize you were already out the door the next second until you received a full-front slap of cold air to your warm cheeks. by the time you were sprinting through the forest following ajax’s trail, he’s but a tiny spec of orange hair and red scarf in the distance. the stinging air of snezhnaya winter still fought against you, stabbing your skin and bringing tears to your eyes. or maybe you were just crying out of panic.

why would he be going so far deep into the forest? both of you had already gone past the outskirts that you were already familiar with. even at the age of fourteen, neither ajax nor you really ever dared to go out of morepesok without the presence of another family member.

and why was ajax carrying a sack and a sword? was he trying to hunt on his own? you doubt he would be that stupid, that wooden sword of his was merely a toy given to him by his father and was as dull as could be. and even worse- ajax, being non-confrontational by nature, barely knew how to use it.

and just why did he have that look in his face? like he had debts to settle, lands to conquer, beasts to fell. you’d been together just yesterday and he seemed fine, seemed happy.

what if… ajax was lying?

what if he was unsatisfied with what he had in morepesok- his parents, his siblings, you? what if he was leaving so determinedly because he yearned for more? and if so, why didn’t he at the very least tell you?

in the midst of you drowning in your worries, ajax’s silhouette of orange and red seemed to only get farther and farther.

“ajax! ajax- hah… wait for me! ajax!” you called out breathlessly.

and as if this entire situation couldn’t get any worse, the growls of what seemed like at the very least three wolves rang out from nearby. you froze for a moment, holding your breath when said wolves stalked ahead of you, towards ajax’s direction. apparently, he had also noticed the wolves and paused in his tracks, as there was no sound in the forest to be heard other than the pack’s footsteps in the snow.

the stream of hot tears on your cheeks grew in flow and your heart pumped in your chest so violently it nearly shook the rest of your body. eyes frantically scanned the area for anything you could do, anything you could use- until they landed on a fallen tree branch, sturdier and sharper than the other measly twigs that populated the ground. you almost latched onto it without thinking and tiptoed forward, to where you’d last spotted the wolves. the beasts, thankfully, seemed unaware of your presence, much more focused on the fresh lump of meat you called your best friend in front of them.

they approached him with slow, calculated steps and hungry snarls upon their faces while you painstakingly crossed the distance, murder rampant in your eyes. you raised a shaky arm, holding the branch and readying to launch as if it was hunting spear.

then suddenly, rustling is heard and the wolves are sprinting away with cowardly whines from where ajax, their lunch, presumably was.

but there was no ajax to be found.

the world felt like it stopped and started spinning even faster all at once. the adrenaline rush from the chase and the intense emotions you’d been feeling keeps you numb to the sight before you, or the lack thereof. where your best friend had been standing and shivering in fear of the wolves that were approaching him- was nothing.

the branch thudded on the ground, long forgotten, as you ran to where you’d last seen him. if it weren’t for the rustled snow, it would’ve looked like nothing happened, because both the trail of footprints and the mess ajax had made while freezing before the wolves ended abruptly, right then and there. despite the fact, you still looked around every inch of your surroundings, even the goddamn treetops, for just the smallest indication that he ran away safely.

next up, look through the snow- maybe he fell into a deeper settlement of snow and hid there until the wolves left. you dug and dug and dug, your arms quickly becoming frigid and your fingertips had lost feeling, yet you kept digging. nothing.

it’s like the earth had given way and swallowed him whole.

“AJAX! PLEASE!”

as a last resort, you yelled his name at the very top of your lungs, over and over and over, uncaring to the possibility of the pack or an even worse predator hearing you. your throat grew scratchy but you kept calling out to him until your vision started to grow woozy. the high tension, the exhaustion and the cold altogether became too much for your body to handle- causing you to promptly pass out right there in the middle of the forest.

you’d have to be eternally grateful to the tsaritsa for sending your father back from work just in time to look for you.

—

you would’ve said that was the worst day of your life- but then the next three came along.

ajax’s family scoured nearly every inch of the forests surrounding morepesok and for two days, no avail. you, unfortunately, were bedridden for the entirety of their search- partially to recover from your ministrations, that even ended up causing you first-degree frostbite at the fingertips, and partially because your parents firmly grounded you to the house for endangering yourself like that. throughout the hours of laying in bed and rewarming your hands, you remained numb- emotionless.

the shock from it still plagued your senses and the reports that he still hadn’t been found you received from your parents at the end of the day only fed the raving beast that was your hopelessness. your mother tried her darndest to cheer you up how she could- baking your favorite sweets, reading you your favorite books, ungrounding your old favorite toys. nothing worked.

until the afternoon of the third day.

your fingers had recovered amazingly, yet the rest of your limbs still felt too heavy to get out of bed. the lines of the book you were reading had started blending together, eyes growing tired and sleep creeping up on your body. as you were setting the book aside and snuggling yourself up to the heavy blankets covering you, ready to let the weariness overtake you, your door bursts open.

“he’s back! wake up, dear, they’ve found ajax!” your mother exclaimed, heaving as if she’d ran across the coast to give you the news.

any fatigue that contaminated your entire body evaporated in a second and you were jumping out of bed like a second wind had hit you. you felt like you were back where you were two days ago, running out the door like your life depended on it. you saw the people of the village flocking towards the town center as if magnetized by the commotion. there, the crowd was circling around something- whispers, exclamations of relief, expresses of thanks to the tsaritsa were about. you followed suit with the townspeople’s movement and wrestled your way to the epicenter of the crowd.

you couldn’t believe your eyes.

there stood your goddammned best friend, his back facing you- like it once had before he disappeared. his silhouette had burned itself into your retinas at that point. but his abrupt return wasn’t the only unbelievable thing about what was before you. behind ajax, from your perspective, was his family, facing him with terrified looks on their faces- like he’d grown a second head. their expressions soon received reasoning when you looked at ajax’s feet.

laid unconscious, was another boy from the village. you’d recognized him instantly, a year or so older than you and ajax and was famously known as morepesok’s roughhouser- consistently picking on ajax for his wimpiness throughout the years. not only older but he was objectively one of the stronger kids of the village, hence the bewilderment of seeing him toppled at the younger boy’s feet.

you at least recall the sight being strange overall, because at the time you couldn’t care less- your best friend was back. to you it seemed like the unconscious boy and the townspeople carrying him away from the scene weren’t there at all.

“ajax…” you started off, voice weak and shaky as fat tears gathered up in your eyes. despite the quietness, he still heard your call, finally turning to face you instead. you were already running to him as he did, tackling him into the most bone-crushing hug you could muster with your current strength. “y-you’re back!”

he doesn’t return the hug.

instead, you felt something sharp poke your throat harshly and pulled away with a hiss- giving way for ajax to fully point his wooden sword straight at you. confused, you first looked to the sword, the very same his father gave him and the very same he left with- except it was somehow razor sharp now instead of the dull, worn wood you were familiar with. it was so sharp, in fact, that even the slightest contact it made with the skin of your neck already left a paper thin cut that bled immediately.

gently pressing a finger to the cut, you gazed down to see concerningly big droplets of blood transferred to your digits. when you raised your head towards ajax again, look of utter confusion and betrayal painted onto your face, you were met with the most bone chilling, lifeless hard stare you’d ever seen come from him. he looked at you as if you were less than a dismissible lump that needed to get out of his way- he looked like he felt nothing, regretted nothing.

his cerulean eyes were stone cold dead.

everyone and their mother who were watching seemed to gasp all at once, moving in to separate the both of you, though your parents were faster. ajax’s father, who’d arrived just in time to see his son hurt you, harshly pulled the boy his arm, scolding him, while yours pulled you into their arms to check your wound. you could only keep your eyes straight ahead to where ajax was while he didn’t even try look back.

—

that was the last time you spoke to ajax.

well, speak is a strong word for the brick wall that was his reaction to your tears of relief and tackling hug. though you’d like to say it was because his father sent him away for fatui military training and not because he seemingly didn’t care for you even a smidgen. just like before he even returned, you turned to spend your days away in your room, head buried in books.

you can’t recall when those books stopped fairytales and became human biology encyclopedias. eventually, those encyclopedias turned into medical textbooks- a birthday gift from your father while he was on a trip to the big city. and eventually, those textbooks turned into shining grades and an entry to the most prestigious medical school in snezhnaya, fatui owned obviously. you would’ve been fine with just stopping there, finishing your degree and going back to morepesok to stay with your parents and maybe, just maybe, get a job as a fisherman- unfortunately, the tsaritsa had other plans for you.

not literally, of course, you’d be considered divinely fortunate if her grace were to ever even note your existence amongst the rest of her citizens. instead, it was one of her own little rotten soldiers and the bane of your existence, the doctor, who for some reason took interest in your capabilities over the others in your class. he demanded you be put through fatui training to be both an on-field and off-field medic just to end up working directly under his wing.

a part of you would forever resent him for this.

you never wanted to even come close to having any relation to the fatui, at first it was purely out of disdain for their ordeals but after ajax was also hand-plucked away by a harbinger, you would’ve rather plunge your chances of having a medical career than having to work with him in the organization you liked the least.

oh! and how could you forget…

the crowning jewel of your dissatisfaction, the literal jewel that was unwillingly set into your hands by the gods themselves.

the day you received your title of sergeant, a small, gelid object materialized into your palms. intricately sculpted steel molded over a round, glowing blue gem- cryo symbol shining inside the gem. you denied and denied and denied, unable to accept or even comprehend as to why someone like you would receive a vision from the reigning element of your own tsaritsa. any attempt to get rid of the damned thing proved futile, it seemed as if it were magnetized to your very being, and you entirely gave up in fighting it at some point. it certainly didn’t help how your possession of a vision, a cryo one at that, only seemed to make the higher ranks of the fatui want to entangle you into their web even more. you still managed to protest it by refusing to use its ice powers under any circumstances.

and now you were here. reminiscing over the misery of your lifetime instead of looking over the paperwork the northland bank had provided you. and the next part of childe’s plan was only days away from getting into motion.

a hollow feeling invades your stomach as you remember the plan ajax had explained to you yesterday.

you needed to gather your thoughts.

taglist ; @kentply @osaemu

[neonfretra]

oughhhh oumblr post machine broke... i have made a post so long and dense that i can no longer even BREATHE her way without getting errors for inability to process post... i can edit other posts fine. i can post posts fine. i asked someone else, different account and device, to try it and its BROKEEEEE. epic highs and lows of text transcriptions of a 15 slide long portion of an essay <3 BTW the full slideshow is 52 mb . of 8 slideshows total. my madness <3

villain monologue below the cut <3

if you ever want to HATE a text editor try managing, editing, writing long form text in it <3 never a more infuriating experience in my LIFE i SWEAR!

a minor infatuation of mine is how tumblr rich text editor will handle different elements (ex. paragraph/regular, header 1, bulleted lists) where if you switch between them in a post frequently you might notice it is incredibly weird (compared to other rich text editors i use)!

when you create a new text block (excluding regular text) and then hit enter, it creates another line of text in the style of the previous text block (excluding headers). but when you hit backspace, instead of reverting to regular text, it deletes the entire line of text. if you want to revert to regular text you actually need to hit enter AGAIN. which i mean is fine but my muscle memory has ISSUE with it LOL

not to mention the fact that you cant layer multiple elements (ex. you cant have a bulleted list embedded into indented text). exception of fonts maybe, i dont use fonts at all, i have them disabled, i cant read them LMAO. i have not used ummm quotes as well

AND it breaks copy+pasting. tumblr disagrees with copy+pasting any text in any formatting besides regular LOL. if you use lists or indented text, you cannot paste anything from the block ANYWHERE within the post. you also cant drag and drop text on desktop and i dont like doing posts on mobile devices so yall on your own in that world. (did yall know the google applications i use dont let you right click -> copy/cut/paste? i dont. i dont know what they broke but they broke it)

AND this isnt even mentioning the fact that sometimes the tumblr text post editor just. lies. LOL? call her HTML the way white space (ex. spaces, blank paragraphs) does NOT matter. i put spaces between bullet points and they are gone. there are inconsistent spacings between text blocks because i copy+paste them and use the different text elements . and then they are gone. i somehow have indented bullet lists??? that i cannot recreate??? and also dont even show up in the public facing post???

AND this is also not even mentionin the fact that its very prone to breaking. like i cannot type into certain lines of text under fairly recreatable situations (IIRC, indented text block, press enter at the start of the text block to make a new block above the existing one, type a character and then delete it to make the new block blank. cant type into it again unless i click off and on again!) or the fact that i straight up cannot edit a post anymore. or the fact that its really common for me to run into errors where it refuses to save at all? or maybe im just stress testin it, im not actually sure how much im puttin into this poor thing? TBF this isnt a 30 image long monstrosity THIS time (which is the image limit on desktop, its 10 on mobile) so it breaks a lot less ^_^ for a copy and paste project. we living it up scrapbook style.

maybe neonfretra is hollerin about nothin. that post is absolutely broke as hell though. ^o^