re: that last post, ive said it before and ill say it again: no one deserves to die (deserving is fake and death is bad) but some people need to be stopped and choose to make death the only way to stop them
I disagree. Pedophiles 100% deserve death.
you are moralizing and weaponizing your disgust in order to construct and justify a category of person you’re allowed to murder
what do you think you deserve for this?
Sorry, no person deserves to die, thankfully child molesters and pedophiles aren’t human, so this doesnt apply to them.
denying the humanity of people who do horrible things accomplishes exactly three things:
give cover to people who haven’t been caught yet by allowing them to use their humanity as “proof” of their innocence
silence any criticism of societal structures and institutions that facilitate those horrible things by putting the focus on individuals who are assumed to be so uniquely monstrous that the ways it was made easy for them are irrelevant
provide a shortcut to dehumanize anyone you feel like killing: simply accuse them of doing a horrible thing
3.a. if you’ve already established that only an inhuman monster could kill a child, then all you have to do to get people to burn down the jewish quarter is say that jews kidnap christian children to bathe in their blood
3.b. if you’ve already established that only an inhuman monster could commit rape, then all you have to do to get people to string up a black man you don’t like is find a white woman who’s willing to point at him while she cries and babbles
3.c. if you’ve already established that only an inhuman monster could molest a child, then all you have to do to get people to drag gay people behind their trucks is say that since gay people can’t have babies, the only way they can make more gay people is by following a nefarious Agenda to “convert” children by molesting them
3.c.a. meanwhile if you try to address the rampant sexual assault of catholic altar boys, you’re met with “don’t be ridiculous, he’s a priest!” (see #1) and with assertions that even if it does happen sometimes, those priests are just infiltrators who don’t represent the church and there’s no reason to make sure priests and altar boys are never alone together (see #2)
tl;dr: your disgust-based violent politics are not less reactionary than any run-of-the-mill homophobe or racist’s disgust-based violent politics
the twitter users are coming QUICK post twitblr yaoi
I have never made art faster in my life
it’s because they’re divorced
Man this goes hard feel free to screenshot 💔😰💔💔😰
The mods are asleep, post Tumblr x Twitter art
Okay okay but this is fascinating because it’s such a visceral example of how mythology works.
Most characters in mythologies are personifications of concepts, or embody some natural phenomenon - like the story of Hades and Persephone is there to explain why the seasons change, Persephone being spring, Demeter - summer, and the absence of them both resulting in death (Hade’s domain) and winter, and so we can’t have Persephone stay in underworld all year round or have Demeter steal her back to earth permanently, otherwise they myth would lose its core function.
Interpreting the myth without the lense of the natural phenomena that it explains would make it lose an integral part of itself, and therefore make the plot and characters seem strange or unnatural. Why does Demeter hate Hades so much, seeing how so many mothers are okay with Zeus doing atrocious things to their offspring just because he’s Zeus? Does Persephone actually want to stay or not? What’s with the bizarre arrangement?
Most modern interpretations strip myths of their natural contexts, making them character-driven instead of phenomena-driven, which just makes them land differently - they can still be fine stories, just not myths, not is the traditional sense.
And now we get to this beauty. This is absolutely a myth, the most classical kind. The relationship between characters, who are personifications of objects, phenomena or concepts (in this case, online platforms) used as an intuitively understood metaphor for an event (the demise of Twitter and the Tumblr userbase being unwilling to accept Twitter’s userbase).
It’s a story that can work as a so-called “explanation myths”. We have seasons because Persephone spends half a yesterday underworld and half a year with her mother. We don’t like Twitter because the Twitter God and Tumblr God broke up. Ladies and gents and other assorted respectables, we here are witnessing the creation of a perfect modern myth.
Okay but which of them took the shoelaces in the divorce?
I thought about it way more than a non-feverish me would, and I’ve come to the conclusion:
The modern myth that is The Divorce of Tumblr and Twitter carries the themes of regression, corruption and downfall. Some of Twitter userbase used to be part of Tumblr userbase, but they left and changed (corruption). Now that Twitter is becoming uninhabitable (downfall), people are trying to return to Tumblr (regression, possible downfall of Tumblr), and to keep them off Tumblr is returning to its old cringe self (regression).
So, if we are to follow the themes, the logical conclusion would be to send the shoelaces back to the president.
This is the fastest I’ve ever written I think
There once lived a young man, handsome as daylight, bright and strong. He was known as Twitter, beloved by the people, a favorite of the gods. His chosen companion, Tumblr, was not dear to the people or the gods. He, a traveling storyteller, preferred solitude. His tales were strange and often unpleasant to the ears, but enchanting in their vulgarity.
One day, Tumblr’s patron goddess, Yahoo, enraged by his vulgar words, put a curse on him. He was not to utter vulgarities, speak of the pleasures of the flesh. His stories of lycanthrope companions were lost to the sands of time, and with them, his last listeners turned away from him.
Twitter watched others laugh at his beloved, turn him away from their doors, and a dark thought settled over him. He was perfect in every way, his only fault was the affiliation with the cursed taleweaver. And so, little by little, they drifted apart.
In his travels, Tumblr stumbled into the temple of Apollo, who bestowed upon him the gift of prophecy. He made acquaintance with the trifecta of wise temple maidens who induced visions through hallucinogenic incense. His stories changed, still bizarre and often vulgar, but at times full of wonder and truth.
At that time, Twitter enjoyed all the luxuries of the mortal world. He was the companion of kings, wealthy merchants, legendary heroes, wise philosophers.
One day, a man richer than rich, richer than the God of wealth, went to the senate of directors and asked to buy the most precious thing in the entire polis.
The senate thought long and hard, and said: “do you wish for our finest singer, the most sweet-voiced of the land, Spotifia? I am afraid I cannot part with her. ”
“No, ” said the rich man, his voice cold and harsh, “I said I have come to buy your most precious thing.”
“Have you come for our gambler, the chosen of the god of luck, MAXimil? They earn us more riches than you can offer. I shall not part with them. ”
“No,” the rich man repeated, “I have come to buy your most precious thing. I have come for Twitter.”
The senators laughed, then, for they knew this must be a joke. Twitter was too beloved by the gods to be owned as a servant. But the rich man did not smile. He offered money, then more and more still. As the goddess of hubris clouded his mind, he offered more money than he could afford to spend, more than the senate could afford to refuse, for it was enough gold to form armies five times the size of their polis.
And so Twitter, the proud Twitter, the untouchable Twitter who laughed at kings and scholars alike, became a servant.
As he was put onto a gilded ship to be sailed off to the rich man’s land, he prayed to the gods that granted him beauty and strength and a sharp tongue, but none answered. His cruelty and vanity made them turn away, and he was too full of his power to notice.
Finally, the young man remembered one more name. He called for Tumblr, his forgotten companion.
First time he called, the birds took off and flew in all directions. Second time he called, the animals fled in fear. Gathering all the strength he had, he called a third time.
His call shook the earth and the skies, and in an instant, Apollo’s taleweaver stood on the shore.
Twitter cried in relief. “My love!” he called, “save me! Save me, and I shall be yours for the eternity to come. I shall bask you in glory and riches. I shall make the people love you.”
Tumblr looked at the rich old man, at the gilded ship, gilded chains, at the other slaves that were meant to please the rich man during his trip, dressed in the finest clothes fit for kings and immortals.
“You’ll like your new life, dear. ” said Tumblr. “You are idle: he shan’t make you do much. You are prideful: he shall treat you like a god. You are vain, and so you might fear you might be forgotten, one servant among many. Fear not,” he smiled. “I shall sing a song of us.”
I AM SORRY I DIDNT KNOW WHAT BEAST I WOULD CREATE WITH THE DIVORCE THING OH MY GOSH
Okay but adding onto this because I think its interesting: myths like these tend to also come with morals or lessons to take away. (The story of Icarus for example, or the story of Oedipus)
I think there’s multiple morals that one can take from what Writing-is-a-martial-art made! so, here’s a list of some of the morals someone could take away from this:
Love (or trust) is earned, not given
This one because, when Twitter was on the boat, calling out for Tumblr, he was so used to love being given to him on a silver tray that he even expected it from the person he wronged (debatably) most of all.
The rich and beautiful are no better than the poor and destitute
Speaks for itself, really. Twitter believed he was superior to Tumblr because of his beauty and his connections with the rich and famous, but, when Tumblr could’ve saved Twitter, Twitter’s riches meant nothing. Tumblr, for the most part, was happier without such things. What Tumblr did subsequently proved was that Twitter was not a god, not a blessing, but just a man.
Being yourself will attract people who like you
On the other side of the coin, you could take something away from Tumblr’s side of the story. Yes, they were cursed and ridiculed, but that did not stop them from continuing to be themself. they continued to sing their songs, to tell their stories, to speak of earthly pleasures and feelings despite their situation. Unlike their past-lover, they were poor and hated, but that didn’t matter to them. It wouldn’t matter to Tumblr if they were living in the depths of Hades, or on mount Olympus, because they were happy.
This, in turn, lead them to the temple of Apollo, where they befriended the trifecta of temple maidens. The point is, is that Apollo and the maidens didn’t like Tumblr for their riches– they had none. they liked tumblr for who they were, for their passion and creativity.
you can probably tell that the last one probably has the most evidence for it.
anyways i’m now gonna go think up some more stories about social media platforms because this is fun
(like?? what if steam had a story? what if there was a story based off of all those tumblr scams? the possibilities are endless!)
the twitter users are coming QUICK post twitblr yaoi
I have never made art faster in my life
it’s because they’re divorced
Man this goes hard feel free to screenshot 💔😰💔💔😰
The mods are asleep, post Tumblr x Twitter art
Okay okay but this is fascinating because it’s such a visceral example of how mythology works.
Most characters in mythologies are personifications of concepts, or embody some natural phenomenon - like the story of Hades and Persephone is there to explain why the seasons change, Persephone being spring, Demeter - summer, and the absence of them both resulting in death (Hade’s domain) and winter, and so we can’t have Persephone stay in underworld all year round or have Demeter steal her back to earth permanently, otherwise they myth would lose its core function.
Interpreting the myth without the lense of the natural phenomena that it explains would make it lose an integral part of itself, and therefore make the plot and characters seem strange or unnatural. Why does Demeter hate Hades so much, seeing how so many mothers are okay with Zeus doing atrocious things to their offspring just because he’s Zeus? Does Persephone actually want to stay or not? What’s with the bizarre arrangement?
Most modern interpretations strip myths of their natural contexts, making them character-driven instead of phenomena-driven, which just makes them land differently - they can still be fine stories, just not myths, not is the traditional sense.
And now we get to this beauty. This is absolutely a myth, the most classical kind. The relationship between characters, who are personifications of objects, phenomena or concepts (in this case, online platforms) used as an intuitively understood metaphor for an event (the demise of Twitter and the Tumblr userbase being unwilling to accept Twitter’s userbase).
It’s a story that can work as a so-called “explanation myths”. We have seasons because Persephone spends half a yesterday underworld and half a year with her mother. We don’t like Twitter because the Twitter God and Tumblr God broke up. Ladies and gents and other assorted respectables, we here are witnessing the creation of a perfect modern myth.
Okay but which of them took the shoelaces in the divorce?
I thought about it way more than a non-feverish me would, and I’ve come to the conclusion:
The modern myth that is The Divorce of Tumblr and Twitter carries the themes of regression, corruption and downfall. Some of Twitter userbase used to be part of Tumblr userbase, but they left and changed (corruption). Now that Twitter is becoming uninhabitable (downfall), people are trying to return to Tumblr (regression, possible downfall of Tumblr), and to keep them off Tumblr is returning to its old cringe self (regression).
So, if we are to follow the themes, the logical conclusion would be to send the shoelaces back to the president.
This is the fastest I’ve ever written I think
There once lived a young man, handsome as daylight, bright and strong. He was known as Twitter, beloved by the people, a favorite of the gods. His chosen companion, Tumblr, was not dear to the people or the gods. He, a traveling storyteller, preferred solitude. His tales were strange and often unpleasant to the ears, but enchanting in their vulgarity.
One day, Tumblr’s patron goddess, Yahoo, enraged by his vulgar words, put a curse on him. He was not to utter vulgarities, speak of the pleasures of the flesh. His stories of lycanthrope companions were lost to the sands of time, and with them, his last listeners turned away from him.
Twitter watched others laugh at his beloved, turn him away from their doors, and a dark thought settled over him. He was perfect in every way, his only fault was the affiliation with the cursed taleweaver. And so, little by little, they drifted apart.
In his travels, Tumblr stumbled into the temple of Apollo, who bestowed upon him the gift of prophecy. He made acquaintance with the trifecta of wise temple maidens who induced visions through hallucinogenic incense. His stories changed, still bizarre and often vulgar, but at times full of wonder and truth.
At that time, Twitter enjoyed all the luxuries of the mortal world. He was the companion of kings, wealthy merchants, legendary heroes, wise philosophers.
One day, a man richer than rich, richer than the God of wealth, went to the senate of directors and asked to buy the most precious thing in the entire polis.
The senate thought long and hard, and said: “do you wish for our finest singer, the most sweet-voiced of the land, Spotifia? I am afraid I cannot part with her. ”
“No, ” said the rich man, his voice cold and harsh, “I said I have come to buy your most precious thing.”
“Have you come for our gambler, the chosen of the god of luck, MAXimil? They earn us more riches than you can offer. I shall not part with them. ”
“No,” the rich man repeated, “I have come to buy your most precious thing. I have come for Twitter.”
The senators laughed, then, for they knew this must be a joke. Twitter was too beloved by the gods to be owned as a servant. But the rich man did not smile. He offered money, then more and more still. As the goddess of hubris clouded his mind, he offered more money than he could afford to spend, more than the senate could afford to refuse, for it was enough gold to form armies five times the size of their polis.
And so Twitter, the proud Twitter, the untouchable Twitter who laughed at kings and scholars alike, became a servant.
As he was put onto a gilded ship to be sailed off to the rich man’s land, he prayed to the gods that granted him beauty and strength and a sharp tongue, but none answered. His cruelty and vanity made them turn away, and he was too full of his power to notice.
Finally, the young man remembered one more name. He called for Tumblr, his forgotten companion.
First time he called, the birds took off and flew in all directions. Second time he called, the animals fled in fear. Gathering all the strength he had, he called a third time.
His call shook the earth and the skies, and in an instant, Apollo’s taleweaver stood on the shore.
Twitter cried in relief. “My love!” he called, “save me! Save me, and I shall be yours for the eternity to come. I shall bask you in glory and riches. I shall make the people love you.”
Tumblr looked at the rich old man, at the gilded ship, gilded chains, at the other slaves that were meant to please the rich man during his trip, dressed in the finest clothes fit for kings and immortals.
“You’ll like your new life, dear. ” said Tumblr. “You are idle: he shan’t make you do much. You are prideful: he shall treat you like a god. You are vain, and so you might fear you might be forgotten, one servant among many. Fear not,” he smiled. “I shall sing a song of us.”
I AM SORRY I DIDNT KNOW WHAT BEAST I WOULD CREATE WITH THE DIVORCE THING OH MY GOSH
Okay but adding onto this because I think its interesting: myths like these tend to also come with morals or lessons to take away. (The story of Icarus for example, or the story of Oedipus)
I think there’s multiple morals that one can take from what Writing-is-a-martial-art made! so, here’s a list of some of the morals someone could take away from this:
Love (or trust) is earned, not given
This one because, when Twitter was on the boat, calling out for Tumblr, he was so used to love being given to him on a silver tray that he even expected it from the person he wronged (debatably) most of all.
The rich and beautiful are no better than the poor and destitute
Speaks for itself, really. Twitter believed he was superior to Tumblr because of his beauty and his connections with the rich and famous, but, when Tumblr could’ve saved Twitter, Twitter’s riches meant nothing. Tumblr, for the most part, was happier without such things. What Tumblr did subsequently proved was that Twitter was not a god, not a blessing, but just a man.
Being yourself will attract people who like you
On the other side of the coin, you could take something away from Tumblr’s side of the story. Yes, they were cursed and ridiculed, but that did not stop them from continuing to be themself. they continued to sing their songs, to tell their stories, to speak of earthly pleasures and feelings despite their situation. Unlike their past-lover, they were poor and hated, but that didn’t matter to them. It wouldn’t matter to Tumblr if they were living in the depths of Hades, or on mount Olympus, because they were happy.
This, in turn, lead them to the temple of Apollo, where they befriended the trifecta of temple maidens. The point is, is that Apollo and the maidens didn’t like Tumblr for their riches– they had none. they liked tumblr for who they were, for their passion and creativity.
you can probably tell that the last one probably has the most evidence for it.
anyways i’m now gonna go think up some more stories about social media platforms because this is fun
(like?? what if steam had a story? what if there was a story based off of all those tumblr scams? the possibilities are endless!)
I interned at a place w butterflies and had to tell a mom to please stop offering the “snacks” on the pedestals to her kids and we had to give a speech to all the ppl who entered which I added lines to daily. Including the infamous “butterflies like fruit that’s a little older than what we eat, so the fruit is just for them! Please don’t eat it!” And “please please please please please don’t come in here if you’re afraid of butterflies.” It was the closest thing to hell I’ve ever experienced
*going to a butterfly farm* there better not be any fuckin butterflies in here
StopNCII.org is operated by the Revenge Porn Helpline which is part of SWGfL, a charity that believes that everyone should benefit from technology, free from harm. Founded in 2000, SWGfL works with a number of partners and stakeholders around the world to protect everyone online
“Many people seem to think it foolish, even superstitious, to believe that the world could still change for the better. And it is true that in winter it is sometimes so bitingly cold that one is tempted to say, ‘What do I care if there is a summer; its warmth is no help to me now.’ Yes, evil often seems to surpass good. But then, in spite of us, and without our permission, there comes at last an end to the bitter frosts. One morning the wind turns, and there is a thaw. And so I must still have hope.”
— Vincent Van Gogh
“If I am worth anything later, I am worth
something now. For wheat is wheat, even if people think it is a grass in
the beginning.”
having a king bed sounds scary what if you try to put the fitted sheet on and get lost in there and die like a caver
hi this is andys roommate he got snatched up by a big hawk in the park and now hes gone forever do U feel good that this comment was the last thing he ever got to see on the computer
i liked doing the independent run because it meant i could walk into caesar’s tent with a missile launcher and atomize him and yes man didn’t even give a fuck that i did that. mr house wouldve been all
Hurting your back isn’t always “ow, I lifted something really heavy and immediately felt a sharp pain,” sometimes it’s caused by the cumulative stress of straining it in tiny ways over a long period of time. Getting in the habit of good body mechanics makes a difference!
“average age of this site” no you should be doing this even when you’re young. Do it right from the beginning and you reduce problems later on.
i’ve mentioned this here before, but it will remain one of the most ideologically influential experiences of my life: when i was in fifth grade i did a report on post traumatic stress as manifested in veterans of the vietnam war, and my father did me the huge favor of connecting me w/ a vietnam vet friend of his who was diagnosed with PTSD, assuring him that while i was only ten i was bright and curious and he should be as honest with me about his experience as possible.
i remember entering his office with my tape recorder, sitting in a chair that was too big, and asking him questions about war, and his life after war, while swinging my legs over the edge of the chair. i remember being very, very quiet as he spoke of pulling the car over on the highway for fear of crashing when his hands would shake uncontrollably in response to song on the radio or a smell that he couldn’t be sure was real or sense-memory. and of ruined relationships and anger and american hypocrisy.
and i also remember that was the day i learned what “valor” meant. he used “valor” in a sentence and i didn’t know that word, and when i asked him to explain “valor” he became very quiet. and i can’t remember precisely what he said, if he ever offered me the dictionary definition or not, but i do remember him looking very sad, and saying something about our country’s idea of “valor”, and also something about a broken promise. and there was an edge to his words that i couldn’t parse at the time that i would later come to understand was bitterness, that he sounded bitter.
to this day i can’t hear or read the word “valor” without seeing sunlight coming through his office window at a slant, close-to-sunset light, and feeling the kind of quiet, confused, completely internalized panic a child feels when they sense that a grown up is trying very hard not to weep in their presence.
[Image description: A four panel comic with Kabosu-chan, the Shiba Inu, with a halo and Death in the form of a Grim Reaper.
Death: It is time to go.
Kabosu: Was I a good doge?
Death: No.
Death: I’m told you were the much best, many no forget, very wow, so dog, such good girl.
In between the panels in magenta Comic Sans font is: Rest in Peace, Kabosu (2005 to 2024). The comic text with unconventional grammar is also in colorful Comic Sans font to allude to the Doge meme that bore Kabosu’s face. /end ID]
