Not today Justin
Today's Document
macklin celebrini has autism
Jules of Nature
Monterey Bay Aquarium
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
h
Cosmic Funnies
ellievsbear
No title available
No title available
titsay
𓃗
pixel skylines
#extradirty
bliss lane
noise dept.
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
blake kathryn
EXPECTATIONS
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Malaysia
seen from Bangladesh
seen from Bangladesh
seen from Malaysia
seen from Germany
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from Latvia
seen from Bangladesh
seen from Türkiye
seen from France
seen from United States
seen from Austria
@mollymagician
stop using chatgpt!!!! take a bronze pin and carve your questions onto an ox scapula, then toss it into the fire!!!! use the cracks to divine the gods answer!!!!
citations still have to be APA 7th edition though. if you plagiarise, the gods will flood the yellow river again. and you'll lose your academic standing.
(The Gods, personal communication, July 18, 2024)
on “the blond,” “the older man,” and other crimes against third-person limited
You know that thing where a story is written in tight third person limited — we’re meant to be inside someone’s head, seeing the world through their thoughts — and then suddenly the narration says “the blond frowned” or “the shorter woman sighed” about a person the POV character knows really well?
That’s called antonomasia — using a descriptive label instead of a name. And it’s fine when we’re talking about strangers: “the cashier handed her the receipt,” “the tall guy blocked the door.” The POV character doesn’t know their names, and we just need a quick way to tell people apart.
But the moment it’s used for someone the POV character already knows, it breaks immersion. Because that’s not how our minds work. We don’t think “the older man smiled at me.” We think “Mark smiled.” Or maybe “my boss” if that relationship matters in the moment.
Third person limited means the narration sits inside someone’s perception. Their inner monologue is the story’s voice. So when you switch from “Mark smiled” to “the blond smiled,” you’ve pulled the camera away from their mind and turned it into an outside shot.
If you want to create distance or irritation, you can do it on purpose —
“The idiot from accounting emailed again.”
That’s character voice. That’s judgment. That works.
But otherwise?
As soon as your POV character knows someone’s name, use it. While we do tend to worry about repetitions, names rarely register as such to the readers.
If you need variety for rhythm, use relational or emotional identifiers that make sense in their head: her friend, his partner, their teacher, the person they loved.
Because inside someone’s thoughts, there are no “blonds” or “brunettes.”
There are only people they know.
'#counterpoint: you can use something that isn't their name if it's how the POV character would think of them#AND relevant to the scene/story#'their mother said' 'the other man yelled' etc#you do get I think a good sense for this if you read and write enough? but maybe that was just me#knowing the formal rules for it is good but like all rules they're not hard and fast and you can break them if you know what you're doing' adding this but i don't see it as counterpoint so much as refinement of what the post said, that the relationship to the subject changes what it means & what happens internally
ZENDAYA at the new york premiere of 'the odyssey'
mulder: there was alien residue on your fries so i ate all of them to protect you
scully: mulder
mulder: i’m always looking out for you. i never expected we’d work so well together…. but…. i mean. what a pair. what a funny pair we are, scully
I think we all know the reason the fanfiction sweet spot is essentially mediocre franchise writing, which is that fanfic happens when you’re craving catharsis that the original story doesn’t give you. This is a weird paradox if you’re a writer coming out of fan spaces and wanting to write your own original fiction because if you’re aware of this, then you know that if you make your story complete, there’s less to talk about, and if you’re in fan spaces you’re aware that fanfic is good marketing, so there’s almost a perverse incentive to make your story less complete. Or maybe I’m overthinking it and no one else has bothered to notice this
You definitely aren't overthinking it. I wouldn't say that mediocrity is a requirement per se, but one way to drive fan engagement is for a work to raise more questions than it answers. It's easy for a mediocre work to do that by raising questions that seem really interesting, then moving on without ever answering them. But a well-crafted story can accomplish the same by creating a sense that the world and/or characters have more going on beyond what the reader/viewer sees.
Yes absolutely thank you you completed my thought lol
“hello,” the dark lord said, “i need a library card.”
“everyone needs a library card,” the librarian said brightly, sliding a form across the desk. “fill this out.”
the dark lord produced her own elaborately plumed quill from the depths of her robes and scrawled her name in handwriting that was completely illegible but seemed to whisper the secrets of the dark from the blinding white page. “yes, but i need mine in order to take over the tri-kingdom area.”
the librarian’s polite smile barely faltered. “funny, the last dark lord to try that didn’t bother with a card.”
“yes, and do you see that fool currently ruling our kingdom? no. of course not. utterly ridiculous, to attempt to take over any size country without a library card, much less an intermediate-sized one like this.” she accepted the thin plastic card with a gracious flourish of her gloved hand.
the librarian, adding the new card’s number to the database, privately agreed, but chose not to say anything.
the librarian balanced the pile of pulled books under one elbow and held the list of call numbers in their hand for easy consultation. “intermediate spell casting for grades three and four,” they murmured, running fingers along the peeling spines until they found it. “willing to bet that’s sorrel’s request.”
they fit the large, paperbound book under their elbow and moved on, checking the list again. “magical creatures encyclopedia, L through M. that’s jackaby trying to finish the entire set by midsummer.” they would get that one last to carry it around the shortest amount of time.
“next — the complete guide to raising the dead.” they paused in front of the row of shelves with the right call numbers. they could guess the requester of that one too, but knew better than to say it out loud.
the return slot thunked loudly as it swung open and closed, having swallowed the returned books with a wet gulp.
“good morning,” the dark lord said pleasantly as she looked up from sliding her books in — or as pleasantly as “good morning” could sound when it was uttered by a voice that sounded like gravel being chewed to pieces by the jaws of a large monster.
“it is, very,” the librarian said crisply, conjuring a clean handkerchief for the still-slobbering return slot.
the mouth just visible under the dark lord’s enormous cloak hood curved into a scythe’s blade smile, but she said nothing else.
“did you enjoy your books?” the librarian asked, since she wasn’t moving and there were no other people waiting (most likely because of the dark lord standing there).
the hood nodded up and down. “extremely. especially the taped lecture by doctor dramidius ardorius of the dark arts institute.”
“well, we have many more taped lectures. i especially recommend the one on the healing powers of tea.” they tilted their head in a now get out sign. the poor steam-powered self-checkout contraption would get overheated if people were too scared to check out at the front desk.
they didn’t really expect the dark lord to take the recommendation seriously, but the next day they noticed the cloaked, hooded specter glide out the door with the taped lecture on magic-infused herbal teas tucked between a CD of dark chants and a step-by-step art book on drawing occult symbols.
“you give good recommendations,” the dark lord said with a shrug when the librarian raised their eyes from the front desk’s computer to the shadows of her hood.
the librarian wasn’t sure what to say. “you seem to take up quite a lot of my time.”
“i’m only a simple library patron,” the dark lord replied in a saintly voice that resembled a dragon coughing up a partially digested house. “do you enjoy mermaid song?”
“yes. you can find the library’s collection in the CD section over there.” they looked pointedly back down at the computer.
“i hear there’s a concert on the shore tomorrow evening.”
“perhaps we’ll get a recording of it.”
the dark lord continued taking out books on various unsavory topics. the librarian continued suggesting books on healing, positive thinking, and community service. the dark lord seemed more amused with each visit. her smile was almost charming, once you got past the long, sharp teeth.
the librarian was trying to go about their usual morning ritual of pulling books that had been requested the night before, but the dark lord wouldn’t stop making faces at them from behind gaps in the shelves. she seemed to find it hilarious. the librarian hadn’t decided yet if they were amused or annoyed.
“ooh, look at this,” the dark lord said, pulling a sturdy but beaten up board book featuring a werewolf mid-transformation on the cover from the shelf. “this was my favorite when i was just a little menace.”
“somehow i’m not surprised.”
the dark lord tucked the book into the ridiculous basket made of a large skull that floated alongside her. “didn’t you have a favorite picture book when you were little?”
“Barker the Sentient Book End,” the librarian said promptly. “i screamed for it every night until someone read it to me, long after i’d already memorized each page.”
the dark lord cooed, sounding like a cross between an owl and something eating an owl. “adorable. i knew you had a little monster in you somewhere.”
the librarian crossly debated denying being a monster at all or pointing out they had actual kraken blood in them.
they should have guessed how close the dark lord was from how good her mood was, but it wasn’t until they arrived at work on monday that the librarian heard the news.
“the newest dark lord managed to overthrow the faeyrie monarchy last night. something about combining traditional herbal spells with a newfangled mental magic based on the power of willful thinking… or something. the news reporter mentioned the use of mermaid song in a mild kind of mind control, i think? i wasn’t listening. the good news is, our budget stays in place.”
the librarian contemplated hurling the can of bookmarks across the room, but concluded that it would be both unprofessional and unsatisfying. they settled for aggressively stamping returned, only slightly saliva-covered books with red ink.
the phone clicked loudly. “public library, how can i help you?”
“by taking my offer,” the dark lord said, slightly hesitant voice like a rock slide that wasn’t sure it was ready to slide. “the royal library in the capital needs a new head librarian.”
“why’s that?” the librarian spun in their new swivel chair, tangling the phone cord while they were at it, thinking they wouldn’t want to leave so soon after getting it.
there was a cough like the ocean spitting out a new island. “erm, hmm, last one got… eaten. tragic. these things happen when you’re very, very small, you know.”
“so i’ve heard.” the librarian stretched the phone cord and watched it bounce back. “well, i’m happy where i am.”
“well.” her voice was more disappointed than they’d expected. “it’s a very nice library, you know. large selection of mermaid song in the CD section.”
“the royal library is part of our system. i can request any materials from there that i want to be delivered here.”
a pause. the dark lord had not considered this. “well, maybe i’ll take the royal library out of the system.”
“you wouldn’t dare disrupt the workings of our very intricate library system set up at the dawn of time.”
“maybe i would!”
“no.”
“fine. i wouldn’t.”
the librarian swiveled some more, wrapping the cord around with them until it ran out of give and spun them in the other direction. “would you like to grab a coffee sometime?”
“yes,” the dark lord said, voice too surprised to resemble anything in particular. “i can travel down meet you tomorrow morning.”
“don’t you have things to do?”
they could sense the shrug from the other end of the line. “i’ll move the capital to your town. i can do that, you know. i’m the supreme ruler of the tri-kingdom area.”
“yes,” the librarian agreed, un-spinning to return the phone to its cradle. “just don’t forget who gave you the library card.”
Jade Pike: *Hayden, Shane and Jackie are inside the house getting food and Ilya is outside with the Pike kids and Anya* Uncle Shane, Uncle Ilya had an accident in the car... Ruby is helping him.
Shane and Hayden: *They get super concerned and get outside fast af because Ilya was showing off his Porsche to the kids, they immediately head out to see what happened*
Ilya: *Is stuck inside this thing*
humiliating to be attracted to a conventionally attractive person. I thought I was a more sensitive and refined pervert than this
Dunno how to put it properly into words but lately I find myself thinking more about that particular innocence of fairy tales, for lack of better word. Where a traveller in the middle of a field comes across an old woman with a scythe who is very clearly Death, but he treats her as any other auntie from the village. Or meeting a strange green-skinned man by the lake and sharing your loaf of bread with him when he asks because even though he's clearly not human, your mother's last words before you left home were to be kind to everyone. Where the old man in the forest rewards you for your help with nothing but a dove feather, and when you accept even such a seemingly useless reward with gratitude, on your way home you learn that it's turned to solid gold. Where supernatural beings never harm a person directly and every action against humans is a test of character, and every supernatural punishment is the result of a person bringing on their own demise through their own actions they could have avoided had they changed their ways. Where the hero wins for no other reason than that they were a good person. I don't have the braincells to describe this better right now but I wish modern fairy tales did this more instead of trying to be fantasy action movies.
"In [fairy tales], power is rarely the right tool for survival anyway. Rather the powerless thrive on alliances, often in the form of reciprocated acts of kindness - from beehives that were not raided, birds that were not killed but set free or fed, old women who were saluted with respect. Kindness sown among the meek is harvested in crisis."
-Rebecca Solnit
seeing people say "this trope has been done to death" as if that's ever stopped anyone from eating bread. BREAD HAS BEEN DONE TO DEATH FOR LITERALLY THOUSANDS OF YEARS AND WE STILL WANT MORE BREAD. write your chosen one AU. write your coffee shop meet-cute. write your 47th iteration of "there was only one bed" because guess what??? we're still hungry.
I know Simon in 'I had potential' t-short is great, but how about this? (I love them so much but I also have fucked up sense of humor)
one day i will draw things regularly, in a consistent style, to full completion
Inspired by @cuubism 's In Search of Nightingales. Total time: 19 hours and 8 minutes.
This was both very fun and frustrating. Enjoy!
Read it here
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Reblog!
I loved doing this one! Cryptid bookstore Dream and his Coffee shop boyfriend Hob...their dynamic is so fun. I have drawn PLENTY of bookshelves since then!
Technically true.
He got the job.
He takes his job seriously.
Prof Rad over on youtube dubbed the Wolf Hunter comic (click here)!
Go check it out and give them some support! :) (also the end killed me haha) ₍ᐢ•ﻌ•ᐢ₎
The farmer sheared the sheep, and it was used to make a gift for Wolf Hunter, so…
Wolf Hunter goes to the village markets.
Wolf Hunter and his conga line of sheep.
Wolf Hunter was looking for them for a while.
Not a werewolf.
The disappearance. 🐑
The worst snowman.
As you know, counting sheeps is perfect for sleep. Sheeps take that job very seriously. But some are still learning. It’s fine, I don’t think Wolf Hunter minds. 🐑🐑🐑
Watch with VERY CUTE AUDIO here!:
this makes me less sad every time I see it no matter how sad the rest of the world is making me
He's so cute hahahha and the bodyguard just indulging his whimsy.
BUT SERIOUSLY I NEED MORE VIDEOS OF HUDSON DOING MMA 👁👁
okay I can’t keep it in anymore. Shane may be autistic, but he simply Would Not have a problem with things being too bright or loud. This boy plays HOCKEY, he is a SENSORY SEEKER, there is NO SUCH THING AS TOO BRIGHT AND LOUD. In my HEART OF HEARTS I know that this man used to stand in the middle of arcades as a child and soak in all of the different sounds and lights and flashy bits and finally feel like he’s getting enough sensation to settle into his own skin. He sleeps under 2 weighted blankets and preferably also another giant 250lb hockey player. He’s not having a problem with too much noise and stimulation. He plays recorded crowd noises from other sports games to focus on stuff. He’s fine sitting in wet clothes for an hour if that’s how long it takes to finish sexting before he gets changed. He’s a SENSORY SEEKER. LET HIM SEEK.
hello yes I have more thoughts on this.
It is key to my personal #myshane that he does not have an autism diagnosis. As a kid he was maybe brought to a specialist, and they looked at him and diagnosed him with Rambunctious Little Boy, because it was the 90s and he wasn't experiencing any significant delays! He was just throwing himself in puddles constantly, and he never stopped wiggling, and his favorite game was Toddler Rave Chamber, in which he shut himself in the bathroom and flickered the lights off and on for as long as it took for his parents to find and stop him.
Wrapping small child Shane in heavy, sweaty hockey gear was an unexpected lifeline in the ongoing battle he's been waging against his body. Gear is heavy. It pressed him into himself. Any sweaty feeling was a bonus, because wet fabric against skin is A Distinct Feeling and that feeling also helped him get the minimum sensory input needed to function effectively. Underarmor would also be a favorite.
(For context: my brother is an autistic sensory seeker. Aside from the ongoing sensory stuff he has very low support needs at this point in his life. I am pulling from Life Experience living with him, I am not spouting autism stereotypes out my ass)
I don't know if monkey bars were a playground staple for Canadian kids in the 90s, but the proprioceptive input from them is GREAT for baby Shane. He's too socially aware to do any visible repetitive motion stims, but sports and playground equipment that involve flinging himself around in space are the best. If there's a convenient puddle on that playground, you'd better believe be is sticking his feet in it. Wet shoes are heavy and heavy things on his body Feel Nice.
The one other sensory thing that I believe in my heart he is doing (and he is NOT growing out of) is chewing. The hoodie-string-sexting shot is foundational for me. He's bitten through a dozen pens. He's chewing off his fingernails. If he had long enough hair, you'd better believe it would be in his mouth. He's chomping on his mouthguard like it's a chew toy. Somewhere in the depths of his juniors teammate's myspace page is a pic of him straight up biting a beer can in half. It's played off as a joke, but if something looks like a nice texture it WILL go in his mouth. It's a matter of when, not if. He’s a biter because Oral Sensoru Input Very Good, and he will never be stopped.
