it's warm so I've been doing this activity called sitting in front of a fan
Alright Tumblr
Sure

This is actually so funny to me. I hope puritans who migrated from Wattpad are so shocked and terrified by the fact AO3 is actually against censorship that they come crawling back to Wattpad and leave AO3 alone forever.
Like why are you surprised that the site that was created specifically to host dark/taboo/fucked up fics—that were banned on pro censorship platforms—because the founders are proships who got tired of censorship, actually hosts and allows dark/taboo/fucked up fics that were banned on pro censorship platforms 😭 Your report will do nothing because AO3 EXPLICITLY ALLOWS AND WELCOMES DARK/TABOO/FUCKED UP FICS. AO3 IS THE PLATFORM THAT WAS CREATED FOR DARK/TABOO/FUCKED UP FICS.
Imagine willingly walking into the Freak and Pervert Factory and then being shocked because the Freak and Pervert Factory is actually a home for the Freaks and Perverts.
you hear about recovery not being linear (”there are ups and downs”), but actually it’s more like a game of wack-a-mole. this is not a bad thing
to extend the metaphor: when you’re at the beginning of your recover (less kindly known as rock bottom), you have a garden full of moles. you have a mole popping up every 5 seconds, and maybe it’s the same hyperactive mole, maybe it’s a bunch of moles taking turns, but whether they all look the same, you have a garden full of the fuzzy bastards.
so you pick up a mallet and start hitting. maybe you’re bad at using the mallet, maybe you get better over time, but after a while you get tired, bc you’ve been at it for ages and a mole is still popping up every 5, 10 seconds. what you don’t realize is, you’ve actually nerfed a lot of the moles. it’s just now there’s more space for the other ones to come to the surface and start making noise. but if you keep. swinging. the mallet. eventually they’re gonna slow down.
My recovery began when I started treating my depression & moved away from an abusive environment. It took a long time for me to realize I was recovering, bc as soon as one thing improved, another popped up. As my depression improved, I became more alert and active–and discovered that my brain fog & self-isolation had inadvertently been covering up my sensory issues. I had enough energy to start school again–and bc I wasn’t sleeping & lounging all day, I was suddenly aware of my concentration issues. One mole bites the dust, another pops up.
but the secret is: there are a finite number of moles in the universe.
4 years I’ve been wacking away at these fuckers with a mallet. I’ve taken turns wacking depression and its cronies suicidal ideation & self-harm, followed in succession by previous dormant crap related to anxiety, adhd, spd, c-ptsd, and other 👎 acronyms. And behold: progress. (Atm i’ve finally convinced the furry piece of shit called Executive Dysfunction to come out of the ground, which is exciting bc wrangling this bastard means finally getting to work on longterm personal projects again.) Moles still pop up from time to time, but my life has a lot more space for me in it
the moral of this story is: if u hit a mole over the head for long and hard enough eventually it learns to mind its own beeswax. KEEP WACKING
look what @the-toadish-one made!!!
*peers closely* they fucking untypoed my wack-a-mole post
wattpad really gave ao3 a huge free promo with their new policy update that makes things even worse for their users. so to all the people who are now moving to ao3 due to this…
welcome! here are what you need to know about ao3 and how it’s the complete opposite of wattpad
trigger warning for the mention of contents that are allowed on ao3 that can be triggering to some.
that’s all for now. have fun and happy writing/reading!
catholic guilt vs protestant belief in your own inherent superiority, fight
wait no I just remembered a few hundred years of history I take this post back

There's something I have to say to the kind of people who keep unsocial reptiles as pets, doting on and adoring their weird little lizardly critters and do not give a single fuck about the idea that their darling creatures' little lizard brains cannot comprehend affection the way mammals do:
You are more capable of true, pure, unconditional love than the god who made them.
My land eel likes that I’m warm
Even as an advertiser (especially as an advertiser), I am convinced that outlawing advertising is the best thing we can do for our world now. More than gun control. More than tackling climate change. More than lowering the price of eggs. Removing these advanced manipulation tools would force everyone—politicians included—to snap back into reality. By outlawing advertising, the machinery of mass delusion would lose its most addictive and toxic fuel.
I started out reading this smugly saying to myself yeah, right.
But by the end I'm sold. Let's ban advertising.
We can start small, maybe with city ordinances. Then roll it out county wide, then at the state level. Once other states see how quiet and sane things can be, they'll adopt the ban too. The ones that don't will remain snarling islands of rage & delusion until the people move away.
Let's ban advertising.
the entire state of vermont already banned roadside billboards years and years ago. change is possible!!
I was at the pool with the child yesterday. The pool had a snack bar, I had brought some money for the snack bar. I handed it to him and was like “get whatever you want!”
Critically I gave him enough money for an ice cream and a beverage. Or for a beverage and a cookie and some candy. Or for sixteen otter pops. Not enough money for all of the above. He began to weigh his options. Time passed. The sun moved in the sky. I, incredibly bored, resisted contributing my opinion because he was doing laborious math on every potential option. NP-complete snack selection. This is VALUABLE. I will be PATIENT.
At some point I folded one of the dollars into a small puppet and gave it a silly voice. “I want to go live in the cash drawer!” said the puppet “spend me! Spend me! Take me to the cash drawer!”
The child then folded (laboriously, carefully) another dollar into a puppet and had it explain that they would be unfolded in the cash drawer and no longer be able to speak.
“We will be transformed and made new! We will experience glorious rebirth! Come brother! Let us become one with other currency!”
Second puppet assented. We all went to the snack shack and got an ice cream. The operator of the snack shack recognized my child and carefully placed the puppets in the drawer, still folded.
“The flesh must be remade!” said my child
“Uhhh. OK. I will. Get right on that.” said the long-suffering snack shack operator.