Collector of Shinies

Crow-funded operations

[writing-prompt-s]

You have a “parasite”. You’ve had them for years since you were a kid. The only reason you never said anything was cause the parasite is pretty chill

[averyuniqueusername]

Was this submitted by an Eddie Brock by any chance

[writing-prompt-s]

You have a “parasite”. You’ve had them for years since you were a kid. The only reason you never said anything was cause the parasite is pretty chill

[yours-wilderness]

Hey language side of tumblr

So I’ve been getting into a bit of an argument about what the neutral version of aunt/uncle be if it had evolved naturally (the argument is with myself. I am arguing with myself)

Anyway, your help would be much appreciated and I’d love to hear your thoughts on it

[notahorseindisguise]

fucked up the roster for the week and accidentally scheduled two guards who only tell the truth on the same day. fuuuuck now anyone can find out which is the right path to go down

[averyuniqueusername]

Imagine some haughty adventurer who knows what the two guards mean and how one of them is always going to be the liar, doesn't even need to read any signs left by the manager about a mix up. A quick and easy glance at the first guard: " Okay, which way is the right way ? " " Oh, that door right there of course " and points to the door on the left And the adventurer looks to the other guard who is now very confused " . . . Yeah that's the right door. " And now the guards are side eyeing each other and questioning if they misremembered whether that was actually the correct door or whether the liar guard is using a play on words with "left" and "right" and now the adventurer's brain is fried by the paradox before him and picks the other door and dies.

[memewhore]

[fuckblast]

They're opening the largest one from 1975 in like 19 months.

[c4bl3fl4m3]

Make that exactly 1 month from today!

[writing-prompt-s]

You were the healer—the last light of your party. But now your final ally dies in your arms, and there’s no one left to save. The enemy jeers, calling you useless. You look up, eyes hollow and black. The light is gone. The Void answers. You're no longer a cleric. You're something far worse.

[averyuniqueusername]

She had so much to live for. As I had felt her body go limp I began to question everything I ever learned. I had prayed and bargained so much from the gods I served for so long, I had kept faith and kept between the lines of the laws and morals of my temple, but it wasn't enough. They were all dead. The darkness is heavy and draped around me, it hangs on my shoulders and pulls me down over the body of my dear friend. The last pledge I had made to the gods was that with their help we would be victorious against this mindless enemy. They had abandoned us. I was nothing. In my minds eye I saw a new hand reach out to me. It offered a new purpose as its servant, the freedom to do what I need to do, kill who I need to kill. I reached out and grasped it as the shadows swallowed me.

I blinked and the world faded back in, the laughing crowd and my comrades strewn around me. I felt the hand back on my shoulder, assuring me in what I must do. I stand up and stretch a hand out over my beloved friend as I whisper the incantations in my ear. After a moment she shudders and stands slowly, a greenish glow from her eyes and mouth. I wandered to the other three and did the same, and soon we stood together once more, renewed to fight one more time, and forever. The arena grows quiet, the lanterns choked and snuffed out, all that was left was the sickly greenish glow of our party. My hand is still outstretched, I can't put it down if I wanted to. It feels suspended on a taught string. I watch from above as my hand closes into a point and the party lurches forward to attack. After a few moments, I follow, and soon my small party becomes a small band of dozens. The hand on my shoulder gives a reassuring squeeze, and I feel nothing anymore.

[glowcowboy]

does anyone wanna hold hands until we feel a little braver

[its-your-mind]

the reblog map is all of us holding hands btw

[beautifulterriblequeen]

We are each other's night sky. No one is alone here.

[unofficial-epsilon-squadron]

@theshitpostcalligrapher



[theshitpostcalligrapher]

Got it

[chocolettchoo]

[writing-prompt-s]

You are the highest paid member of your Adventuring Party. Not because you can fight, or have magic. You'd die to a cat, let's be honest. But because you can cook, clean, set up camp, also have a fierce sense of business. All things they more or less completely lack.

[averyuniqueusername]

I could hear the party start to stir around me as I balanced on my stepstool and poked at the meager contents of the massive pan before me. It's a good thing we're headed into town today, I'll need to buy more provisions. I glance around at the five lumps circled around the campfire.

" Up and at em, kids, Breakfast will be ready soon. " It has been my duty for the past six months now to guide this party of warriors as they go questing through the countryside, and although no two days are the same, some things just never change.

" Hey! Wait! Oh- watch out ! " - On cue I ducked down as a mandolin whipped by and bounced against the tree trunk behind me. I shot a quick glare at the pair of elves in the corner, one empty handed and sat leaning against a tree, the other just a set of glittering red eyes and an outstreched arm visible from the shadows of the forest. Every morning Reed reaches for an instrument to play with breakfast, and every so often an unsupportive Umbra will grab and send it flying off in a random direction. " Must you two always do that? " Another lump grumbled to life as she grabbed her pointed hat and glanced over at me. I instinctively reached for my potholders as she spoke. But alas, it was too little too late.

" Mornin Parker! Whatcha cookin? Hey, the fire is kinda low, let me help with that! "

Without another word I leaped off my stool, just as the campfire roared and shot up into the treeline. Ellie showed plenty of promise in her studies, but not much control. This time I wasn't quick enough, I stumbled and fell as the fire caught my backside, flopping headfirst onto the largest member of the party.

Birhi was always dead to the world when her eyes were closed, but there's nothing like a flaming hobbit to the chest to wake up you up in the morning. "WAH!" cried the dragonborn as she jerked awake and grabbed me. She got up on her knees and held me up like a small child, something I'd usually protest but I was too tired to care. I couldn't exactly hear what she said next but after a few moments a glow surrounded us and the burns I had melted away. I was set down and brushed off as I turned to survey the damage. I had been prepared for this, thankfully, having replaced plain wooden utensils and stools with enchanted metal months ago. Unfortunately, breakfast is not so inflammable I groan as I slid over to the pan for closer inspection. The grits were charred and the eggs blackened, but still edible. I grabbed bowls and spoons and split what was left into six sensibly sized bowls and tapped the pan as a dinner bell. Each of the wakeful came and grabbed their portion, except one. Once again, I hopped off my stool, grabbed a bowl, and strolled up to the remaining lump. With a swift kick the warrior awoke from what I'm sure is dreamless sleep. Lukas started spluttering as I handed him a bowl, and I walked back to my perch to eat. We crunched as the party began to chatter, and I rose again to gather up dishes and begin to tidy up. With a wave of my hand they began to pack up and I walked around to help the less experienced roll up their sleeping bags. Today we go to the town of Swindmore, and already I plot to keep the party out of trouble while I shop. Part of my job is to try to teach some of them to fend for themselves, so maybe I'll take one into market with me. I circled the five as I lifted my pack up onto my back and checked the campsite for any lost belongings, tossing the odd trinket towards the respective member. When I was satisfied I stood in the center and gave them all a warm smile.

With a flourish I reached into my cloak and pulled out a map, a compass, and a shopping list. A three part kit that a proper Gammidge never leaves the house without. I checked my map, pointed myself east, and began to walk into the forest, a trail of powerful ducklings in tow.

=== To be continued? ===

[writing-prompt-s]

"Rule number one," said the genie, "you can't wish for immortality. At best I can promise is that you'll live as long as I do, and frankly, I don't know how long a genie lives. I could die immediately upon granting your wishes."

[averyuniqueusername]

Laughter filled the small cave they stood in and bounced off the rocks, strengthening into a rolling wave that crashed into the genie's senses. The mighty genie startled and glanced down at the small old man. ". . . What? What are you laughing about? I haven't even finished listing the rules yet. " The frail old man's giggling dissolved into a coughing fit, and after a moment's rest he peered back up at the genie, his sparkling eyes barely visible from underneath large, bushy eyebrows. " Son, I wasn't planning on asking you for more time. Lord knows I've had plenty of that. " The genie studied the man before him. The old man was dressed in well-loved overalls, a white shirt and a straw hat. One gnarled hand supported the man on an old wooden cane, and the other grasped the handle of an old rusted metal gas lamp that had housed the genie for about a hundred years. Drifting from a crack in the glass of the lamp was parts of the genie's smoky tail, emanating a soft glow that threw light and shadows on the old man in a way that made him almost otherworldly. A thousand men before him would have never dared interrupt him, they would be chomping at the bit to make the first wish. Instead of anticipating, he was laughing. But it was no matter, he was a human like the rest of his masters. Three wishes to twist the best he could, and then leap into the nearest lamp for the next fool to find. His face twisted back into a mechanized smile.

" Well, good to know. Rule number two is: No wishing someone dead or alive. Everyone has their time on this land and frankly I couldn't care enough to change that. "

Another fit of giggles, followed by harsh coughing. The genie grimaced as his new master doubled over for a minute to catch his breath. How could he find humor in the possibility of great power, wealth, even a return to the youth he surely misses? Men and women would discover the genie and demand endless everything. That's all humans are, just selfish good for nothing fools who want a-

" - lamp here, son. "

" . . I beg your pardon? "

The old man lifted the lamp a bit. " I said I'm worried about this old lamp here, son. Don't you live in it? "

" I. . I do, full time as a matter of fact. A good bottle is hard to come by now a days. "

Another chuckle into a wheezing cough. "I agree, and I'd like to spend that first wish to fix it. "

" What? There's far better things to wish for. Ask me for a grand palace or or a great horse. " A horse could easily trample the old man, and the grand palace could be far, far away.

" Maybe if I was a younger man. My house is my palace, as empty as it is, and I'm sure you'd like yours to be the same. "

The genie crossed his arms. " Well, You'll have to say the words "

" Oh-h-h right. " The old man straightened himself and puffed out his chest. " I wish that this here lamp become the finest container for. . what was your name again? "

" . . Asa . " Names held no power over a genie, but Asa still doubted the old man's intentions

The old man smiled " Roger, nice to meetcha. Well, I wish that Asa's lamp becomes the finest lamp the world ever did see. "

Asa hesitated, but with a small clap of his hands the lamp in Rogers hand melded into a fine metal lantern with lattice sides and a gazebo topped chimney from which the genie's tail now pours out.

" Now that's a pretty lantern. That sort of craftmanship hasn't been seen around here for a while." Before Asa had a chance to respond, Roger turned around and started to shuffle towards the cave entrance.

" Where are you going? " Asa tried to stay put, but there was only so far he could be from his lamp, and he was slowly, helplessly tugged behind the old man.

" Out to see the sunrise one more time. " Roger hobbled to the cave entrance, and paused when he felt the smoke tug on the lantern.

" I don't want to "

"Well, I wish you'd join me, I've yet to miss a sunrise and I won't start now. "

[woman-becomer]

imagine a goat with a hat

STOP-

what hat did you give the goat what is the instinctual hat you gave to this goat

[averyuniqueusername]

An Eternal Mental Block

Its summer now. I just finished my second year of college and I couldn't feel more. . empty. Its been years since I created anything. I'd like to start engaging in the ideas I keep writing down and never acting on. I have a journal type book full of ideas that I would write in every time I'm struck with a decent idea. I want to tell stories, put them into writing and make games out of them. I want to animate that little astronaut protagonist character I have, and showcase everything on social media. I want to explore what's left of the oldnet and set up a neocities page and fill it with everything I've learned. Over the years I've kept busy with school or work, and never had the time to sit down and actually DO something about any of my ideas. And yet, every time I had a clear afternoon to sit down and start on any of these ideas, I lose all the wind in my proverbial sails. Its like opening my schedule to allow for time to create seems to block everything up into an eternal " I don't want to". Instead of planning out the ideas I've written down, I feel compelled to doomscroll some random social media instead. I don't know really what I'm writing here. I could shut up and just start posting on social media. I could make accountability buddies out of my friends and family, but if anything that fear of disappointing them makes me feel worse than not doing anything at all. I guess I'm putting this out there on Tumblr of all places as a hail mary type thing. I don't use Tumblr much and haven't built any meaningful connections with anyone here yet, but the communities I'm in on here seem to encourage creating, and maybe I won't feel that pressure to do something that inverts into never starting anything. I don't expect anyone to see this or interact with it. Its more of a journal page that I'm pinning to a public wall. To my audience of 4 bots and maybe 2 humans, I'm going to start using this blog more. Prepare for some god awful content and a touch of main character syndrome. Chances are, I'll post maybe three things and stop forever. Maybe this'll be the kick I need to start living the life I want. Who knows, maybe one day I'll look back on this and laugh at how ridiculous I feel. Only one way to find out.

[suburbanmomromanceclub]

File this under “super obvious yet I always seem to forget it.”

[iamwordsandpixels-deactivated20]

I don’t write romance (I totally respect people who do, though!) but this is also great writing advice in general! What is preventing the protagonist from achieving their goal?

Why can’t these two people be together now?

Why can’t the mystery be solved now?

Why can’t they overthrow the evil overlord now?

If you don’t have a solid answer for these questions, that’s a good indicator that the plot could use some more work.

[megan-cutler]

Also test your answer a little bit. If it’s as thin as they’re just refusing to sit down and have a simple conversation, you might want to re-think how things are going.

[operahousebookworm]

As a beta reader/editor, I tend to ask this question a lot: “Why are they doing it this way when there’s a much easier path available?” That’s not to say that they should take the easier path, because that would usually be boring. Instead, the point is that the question needs an answer–either eliminate the easier path or give them a very clear reason for not taking it. (And if I’m asking the question, that reason isn’t as clear as you think it might be.)

I find it very difficult to root for characters who have a sensible option available and just don’t take it. If the only reason is “Because there wouldn’t be a story otherwise,” you haven’t actually found the story yet.

[riptidepublishing]

And this is why the Big Misunderstanding as a primary plot device is almost universally disliked.

[i-am-a-fish]

I went to bed and I woke up feeling well rested. this has never happened before what do I do

[monkiemango]

DO NOT STAY I BED WHATEVER YOU DO THE EUPHORIA WILL DRAIN FROM YOU BODY AND YOU WILL BE LEFT MORE TIRED THAN BEFORE. ABORT. ABORT. GET OUT OF BED AND GO SIT IN THE SUN BEFORE IT DRAGS YOU BACK.

[i-am-a-fish]

woah, bed feels even more comfy than normal....

[monkiemango]

FISH NOOOOOOOOOOOO

[i-am-a-fish]

[levourdalak]

I dreamt that there was a new meme that went, “If I dids it, I dids it. If I didsn’t, I didsn’t.” There was a third line, but I forgot what it was.

[nifeandaccurate]

happy to report i’m back on my bullshit

and a rare variant

[levourdalak]

HOW DID YOU KNOW THEY WERE CAT MEMES IN MY DREAM

[nifeandaccurate]

>:3€

[levourdalak]

THAT’S IT, THAT’S THE MEME FROM MY DREAM

[kaijuno]

[gallusrostromegalus]

So while I was getting my haircut, the lady asked me if I had other plans for the day and I said:

“I’m just going to pick up the boy from daycare and then it’s date night.”

And the lady says “Oh! How old is he?”

“He’s three.”

“Mine too! Where are you registering him for kindergarten it’s such a hassle-”

And that’s when I realized I said “boy” and not “dog” because I always think of Charlie as “good boy” but this slip up has lead to a miscommunication.

The lady is now 6 minutes into a clearly needed rant about how unnecessarily complex shopping for schools is, esp when you have a neurodivergent child, so I can’t just tell her that Charlie is a dog because then she’ll feel awkward for unloading on me and she clearly has enough going on.

So the rest of the haircut became a game of “how much can I say about Charlie without revealing that he is not a human child?” And the answer is “enough to cover a half hour hair appointment, quite possibly several hours worth if I’m specific enough”

[gallusrostromegalus]

“is he very verbal?”

“It really depends on who he’s with. He’s very quiet at he but won’t shut up if he’s at the park or has a friend over.”

“was it hard to potty-train him?”

“he’s adopted, but I was genuinely amazed at how good he already was with hygene and potty stuff.”

“mine’s just obsessed with paw patrol and Frozen, drives me crazy!”

“I imagine. Charlie is colorblind so he’s not as into tv, but he always wants a toy if I take him anywhere with them.”

“oh gosh the toys! And the kids are so rough on them!”

“yeah Charlie can destroy a stuffed animal in about 2 minutes, so I only buy him the really cheap ones.”

“Does he throw tantrums when they break?”

“Not really. It’s meditative, really, taking them apart. He has hysterics if the cat takes his toys though. Runs downstairs and cries at me until I retrieve it because he’s not tall enough to get it out of the cat tree.”

[gallusrostromegalus]

The Very Good Boy in question, Charleston Chew.

(if you want to read more of my much weirder adventures, I have pre-orders for my book on Patreon right now: https://www.patreon.com/gallusrostromegalus )

[krwzprtt]