What? A blog? With writing? What fuckery is this?

@mycrarelady

So this blog is basically just going to be a dumping ground for my writing, fiction (fan or otherwise) including but not limited to character bios, short stories, solo chapters, and crap that I spew up in the early hours of the morning. Feel free to follow but I can't promise it'll make any sense.

5,027 posts

aren't gorillas gentle giants or something. i stay out of his way, he doesn't maul me, we have a nice time picking out clothes together in opposite sides of the mall

friendshapedhole

Male gorillas are super aggressive and territorial. Also they interpret nearly every human mannerism as a sign of aggression or a challenge. Smiling and eye contact are both things that zookeepers have to be taught to suppress when they’re in the vicinity of gorillas.

Well unless the mall is his native territory I think I'm fine, I wasn't planning on smiling at him

This is all irrelevant because the obvious answer is five black mambas. I mean, that’s not actually very many snakes, and malls are fucking huge. And unlike a gorilla you can definitely outrun a snake if it does show up. Find an open space in the mall where you can see any snake coming and just hangout out there. Fucking easy.

Misguided! I would much rather have a mallmate I can easily see and hear coming. I'm confident I can stay out of the gorilla's way, but if I step on a snake or one otherwise gets the jump on me, it's all over.

It's not just about the physical danger either, it's about my mental health. One gorilla, unless he's actively mad at me, I just keep a healthy distance between us and make sure I never get trapped. With the snakes, it requires a lot more constant vigilance

ghostpalmtechnique

They should substitute "chimpanzee" for "gorilla" in this hypothetical.

if it was a chimp i'm taking the fucking snakes

notwiselybuttoowell

Black mambas have a reputation build on being very venomous and very fast. I'm not sure why you would think you could outrun one (or five) in an enclosed space like a mall.

chaumas-deactivated20240115

Malls usually have pretty slick floors, and escalators. I’d choose the gorilla simply because I think that would make an more interesting story (and a better-selling autobiography, I Survived the Mall Gorilla) but I think I’d stand a pretty good chance at avoiding the mamba. They’re fast and aggressive and will chase you but unless we started immediately beside each other I think my sneakers would have the terrain advantage over scutes.

nightingalesoul

this is too good to leave hidden in the replies

bermuda-n-drangle

fucking enamored with the implication that this gorilla is fully intelligent but is trying to manufacture plausible deniability like the movie barnyard

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fuckmountain2-deactivated202204

…and, at the time of his death, he was one of the most hated people in the USA.

life-as-a-hobby-deactivated2022

The FBI sent him a letter trying to convince him to commit suicide. Don’t let this revisionist bullshit slide. The things they say now about protests, kneeling, etc, are the same things they said about the sit-ins and marches.

furbearingbrick

respectability politics is a trap.

respectability politics is a trap.

respectability politics is a trap.

darksteel-relic

Look at this vintage political cartoon. Reactions to MLK and BLM are near identical.

demiboy-mint-choco-deactivated2

His own kids are telling yall not to fall for the bullshit

liliili-sims-deactivated2020073

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★UP DATE 2020/03/17

Fixed the shadows on the pants because the shadows became darker when wearing heels. Pants with similar problems will be fixed sequentially. ヒールを履くと影が濃くなっていたため、パンツの影を修正しました。同様の問題があるパンツは順次修正します。

Ok but that post going around about a hypothetical world where magic is real but everyone kind of discusses it like it’s genres of music really makes me want to RP it.

morrigandisapproves-10

yes

paladincourfeyrac

That would actually be really cool because it would feel like an rl rp but then there’s magic.

thesubtlegatsby

“i’m into new wave indie photosynthetic magics, you wouldn’t understand.”

“Nah, I stick to classic pyromancy.”

“I don’t know, I mean I can do a few spells, classic conjuring stuff, but I’m just not that into the whole old school, indie, have-to-read-an-ancient-scroll-in-a-dead-language-to-figure-it-out stuff. It’s just like, who has the time?”

thesubtlegatsby

"all real magic fans do it old school with scrolls. Getting rid of the incantation is soooo disingenuous you know? And then there’s those sell outs who do it completely non verbally, man. I hate those guys”

I cannot believe you reblogged this in the year of our Lord 2020. But also true?

(Responded to from a boozy solo dinner on a god damned Wednesday)

Sokka: Aang y'know how you took away Ozai’s firebending?

Aang: I recall yes

Sokka: can I have it

Aang: …what?

Sokka: can I have his firebending. just for like ten minutes

Aang: what no

Sokka: why not I wanna prank zuko

Aang:

Aang:

Aang: okay five minutes

This fukn post had me reeling so ofc I had to draw it

hi take everything I own

dragon-in-a-fez

this bitch empty, TWEET

any time my aunt whistles walk like an egyptian the murder of wild crows she’s adopted shows up

brightlotusmoon

I want this life.

shrimplydelicious

“I’m finally going to write! I have a great idea!”

edgelord-trashcan

LAUGHS LOUDLY

OK but like… first sentences don’t have to be there forever. I cannot begin to count the number of times I’ve started a story like:

And just write the ideas down until the story starts to shape itself. Then when you’re ready, go back and delete everything before the point where the story actually starts.

Writing yourself into an idea is a time-honoured technique, and it works.

stainlesssteellocust

good advice

the-revolution-continues

What if, when Petunia Dursley found a little boy on her front doorstep, she took him in? Not into the cupboard under the stairs, not into a twisted childhood of tarnished worth and neglect–what if she took him in?

Petunia was jealous, selfish and vicious. We will not pretend she wasn’t. She looked at that boy on her doorstep and thought about her Dudders, barely a month older than this boy. She looked at his eyes and her stomach turned over and over. (Severus Snape saved Harry’s life for his eyes. Let’s have Petunia save it despite them).

Let’s tell a story where Petunia Dursley found a baby boy on her doorstep and hated his eyes–she hated them. She took him in and fed him and changed him and got him his shots, and she hated his eyes up until the day she looked at the boy and saw her nephew, not her sister’s shadow. When Harry was two and Vernon Dursley bought Dudley a toy car and Harry a fast food meal with a toy with parts he could choke on Petunia packed her things and got a divorce.

Harry grew up small and skinny, with knobbly knees and the unruly hair he got from his father. He got cornered behind the dumpsters and in the restrooms, got blood on the jumpers Petunia had found, half-price, at the hand-me-down store. He was still chosen last for sports. But Dudley got blood on his sweaters, too, the ones Petunia had found at the hand-me-down store, half price, because that was all a single mother working two secretary jobs could afford for her two boys, even with Vernon’s grudging child support.

They beat Harry for being small and they laughed at Dudley for being big, and slow, and dumb. Students jeered at him and teachers called Dudley out in class, smirked over his backwards letters.

Harry helped him with his homework, snapped out razored wit in classrooms when bullies decided to make Dudley the butt of anything; Harry cornered Dudley in their tiny cramped kitchen and called him smart, and clever, and ‘better ‘n all those jerks anyway’ on the days Dudley believed it least.

Dudley walked Harry to school and back, to his advanced classes and past the dumpsters, and grinned, big and slow and not dumb at all, at anyone who tried to mess with them.

But was that how Petunia got the news? Her husband complained about owls and staring cats all day long and in the morning Petunia found a little tyke on her doorsep. This was how the wizarding world chose to give the awful news to Lily Potter’s big sister: a letter, tucked in beside a baby boy with her sister’s eyes.

There were no Potters left. Petunia was the one who had to arrange the funeral. She had them both buried in Godric’s Hollow. Lily had chosen her world and Petunia wouldn’t steal her from it, not even in death. The wizarding world had gotten her sister killed; they could stand in that cold little wizard town and mourn by the old stone.

(Petunia would curl up with a big mug of hot tea and a little bit of vodka, when her boys were safely asleep, and toast her sister’s vanished ghost. Her nephew called her ‘Tune’ not ‘Tuney,’ and it only broke her heart some days.

Before Harry was even three, she would look at his green eyes tracking a flight of geese or blinking mischieviously back at her and she would not think 'you have your mother’s eyes.’

A wise old man had left a little boy on her doorstep with her sister’s eyes. Petunia raised a young man who had eyes of his very own).

Petunia snapped and burnt the eggs at breakfast. She worked too hard and knew all the neighbors’ worst secrets. Her bedtime stories didn’t quite teach the morals growing boys ought to learn: be suspicious, be wary; someone is probably out to get you. You owe no one your kindness. Knowledge is power and let no one know you have it. If you get can get away with it, then the rule is probably meant for breaking.

Harry grew up loved. Petunia still ran when the letters came. This was her nephew, and this world, this letter, these eyes, had killed her sister. When Hagrid came and knocked down the door of some poor roadside motel, Petunia stood in front of both her boys, shaking. When Hagrid offered Harry a squashed birthday cake with big, kind, clumsy hands, he reminded Harry more than anything of his cousin.

His aunt was still shaking but Harry, eleven years and eight minutes old, decided that any world that had people like his big cousin in it couldn’t be all bad. “I want to go,” Harry told his aunt and he promised to come home.

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I think about Tangled a little too much

Like can you imagine if someone who wasn’t chirpy and enthused and willing to entertain herself and develop a gazillion skills was locked up in that tower?

Can you just imagine a somewhat unclean, socially inept person lying face down on the ground, too lazy to brush her hair and yelling “I am so fucking bored” in varying intonations?

Actually on that note, great and terrible immortal beings having stock options to keep them alive and literally nothing else to do with their time sitting on a couch for days at a time arguing weather its worth it to get up and turn the lights on when the sun goes down.

“Are you just sitting in a dark room?”

“Actually if you must know it got dark around me”

“How long as the Gilmore Girls menu music been playing?”

“I don’t come into your house and shit on your lifestyle”

These last two lines were truly me proccesing something about my own behaviour.

magicalgirlmascot

Tropes that are totally overused and I love them to death

grumpy jerk and actual ray of sunshine are BFFs

mutual unrequited pining

character A falls fast and hard for character B

character A slowly falls in love with character B over the course of several years, realization hits them that they’ve been in love with B for a long time hits them like a truck

cool badass is actually a giant fucking nerd

The Power of Friendship ™

flat “what” reactions

sweet adorable characters with horrible tragic pasts

villains-turned-heroes becoming the Weird Uncle

characters that aren’t actually related having a parent-child relationship

characters that aren’t actually siblings having a sibling-like bond

“I can’t stand this person but I would die for them”

Look of course the Atypical girly way hated asian female character from 13 reasons why is my standout fave. There are layers there. I wanna write fic.

illogical-bullshit

I found this somewhere and it just resonated with me

Me, a humble fic farmer, tending her plot of land: neighbor john said there was a shipwar starting just over the hills. what do you think Ma, do you think we'll ever see a shipwar?

Ma, clutching her apron to her chest: oh dear, I hope not!

Pa, sitting in his rocking chair and smoking his pipe: hmph! there's always been shipwars and there will always be shipwars. you just keep your nose out of it and mind your own business. we ain't got no business messing around in shipwars. now step to it! i want that field of headcanons and plot twists plowed by morning! and keep those plot bunnies from getting at the smut, we can't afford anymore WIPs!

What? A blog? With writing? What fuckery is this? @mycrarelady - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag