The different fanfic eras explained as lunch

the-real-seebs:

newkate:

twocatstailoring:

roachpatrol:

berlynn-wohl:

Pre-internet era: You walk into a room and sit down at a table. Someone brings you a turkey sandwich, a bag of potato chips, and a soda. Perhaps you are a vegetarian, or gluten-free. Doesn’t matter; you get a turkey sandwich, a bag of potato chips, and a soda.

Usenet era: You walk into a room and sit down to your turkey sandwich, a bag of potato chips, and a soda. Someone tells you that over at the University they are also serving BLTs, pizza, coffee, and beer.

Web 1.0 (aka The Great Schism): You walk into a room. The room is lined with 50 unmarked doors. Someone tells you, “We have enough food to feed you and a hundred more…but we’ve scattered it behind these fifty doors. Good luck!”

Web 2.0 (present): You walk into a room. Someone points at the buffet and says, “Enjoy!” You turn to see a 100-foot-long buffet table, piled high with every kind of food imaginable. To be fair, some of the food is durian, head cheese, and chilled monkey brains, but that’s cool, some people are into those…and trust me, they are even more psyched to be here than you are.

Tumblr (a hell pit): You try to serve yourself a baked potato. An angry child runs up and slaps the plate out of your hand. “NIGHTSHADE PLANTS ARE POISONOUS,” the child yells. You are hungry. The child gives you a turkey sandwich, a bag of potato chips, and a kick on the shin.

The fact that a potato is replaced with a different form of potato is what makes that last one so accurate.

@zalia

it’s honestly distressingly accurate

Could you explain the whole “i don’t really have depression, i’m actually just a lazy piece of shit” = you’ve got depression, thing? It rang a bell for me and I’d like to know what you meant. Thanks :)

thunderboltsortofapenny:

deebott:

roachpatrol:

one of the most insidious things about depression is it doesn’t ‘feel’ like depression. even when you have it, you know you have it, you’ve been diagnosed—you still find yourself thinking, no, nope, this isn’t it, can’t be. it’s like the mental illness equivalent of that knight in monty python that keeps going ‘it’s a flesh wound! i’m fine, really! this is just a scratch, i’ll be up in a moment!’ even after all his limbs have been hacked off and he’s lying there helpless.

one of the most common narratives around it is that no one realizes they have depression until they start checking off what they consider to be normal aspects of their lives—and personal character flaws— against the checklist for depression symptoms. really key symptoms include:

  1. lack of motivation
  2. constant tiredness, even exhaustion
  3. finding no pleasure or satisfaction in activities they used to like, or that they know should feel good
  4. not seeing the point of doing anything
  5. increased and even unmanageable anxiety and fearfulness

any one of these symptoms drains away your ability to do work, cope with setbacks, overcome difficulties, or stop procrastinating. multiple symptoms create a pretty perfect storm of intertia and anxious self-loathing. you stop doing anything because it’s hard to get going, unpleasant while you’re at it, and afterwards there’s no reward. why bother, right? and when you’re always tired you get conservative of what little energy you can manage, and when you only feel emotions on the ‘empty to miserable’ spectrum you get really aversive to making mistakes. the whole mess very quickly and very insidiously loads every single thing in your life with toxic emotional baggage.   

and then someone says to you— or you say to yourself, ‘stop being lazy’. and that haunts you forever. because you’re lazy! the work is so easy. everyone else does it. everyone but you, you lazy asshole, lying around all day not doing this totally easy thing that you should be able to but aren’t. you don’t have depression! of course not. mental illness is for victims, is for blameless innocent people who can’t be blamed for being so understandably sick. but you can be blamed. you have a character flaw, and it’s getting worse by the minute. 

and that is how people who have been diagnosed, who have been medicated, who have been through therapy, can still spend all day hiding in bed and chewing themselves up over their failure to just somehow magically be a good, healthy, useful person, instead of treating themselves to a sick day and saying ‘yup! it’s depression. i need to be kind to myself.’

Fuck this is so important and relevant

Nope reblogging twice in a row because u want to scream this from the roof and plaster it over the walls and never shut up about it

have i ever mentioned that the last combat sequence when you go through the final door on horizon in me2 is the worst

because it is

i honestly have no idea how i beat it on insanity that one time

i remember dying. A LOT.

I love how you write Fingon and Maedhros–any timeframe, canon or DWMP era. Would you write about them together early in their relationship, as they were first realizing this relationship of theirs was more than just a crush finally realized?

imindhowwelayinjune:

A realization that strikes them each rather differently, as it transpires. 

“You’re churning,” Makalaurë observed, as Maitimo did another length of the carpet. “If you keep it up like that you’re going to wear a spot in Grandmother’s rug and you know Father will get the pained line between his brows.”

“Grandmother’s carpets don’t wear,” said Maitimo, executing another pivot and striding back towards the hearth. “Valar, perhaps I should take a page from her book and just sleep until I am never seen again.”

“That’s a little overwrought,” said Makalaurë, a phrase which from his mouth would usually be enough to shake Maitimo from his turmoil to observe dramatic irony in action. “So you have been kissing Findekáno in the garden, so what?”

“Not just in the garden,” said Maitimo, running a hand through his hair and then stopping as it reminded him of Findekáno’s touch. And not just kissing, he didn’t add. “Also on the veranda, by the canal, under the bridge, next to the peach vendor…”

“So what? What of that is so bad that you need to banish yourself to Námo’s realm rather than continue? I know it’s embarrassing to have an infatuation, especially with someone so…buoyant, but it’s not like Findekáno’s hideous.”

That brought Maitimo to a halt. “He’s not hideous at all,” he said, frowning. “Why would one be embarrassed to be seen with him? He is handsome and well-built, noble and full of life, fun-loving and kind, and why say you ‘buoyant’ as if it is something shameful? He has energy, certainly, but it is of the sort that uplifts rather than wearies and a quality most befitting a prince. Stop laughing,” he said, annoyed, as Makalaurë chortled from the divan. “It is not the optics that concern me – well, not entirely – but it is precisely what you say!”

“What do I say,” said Makalaurë, composing himself.

“Infatuation,” said Maitimo wretchedly. “To him I am but an early crush realized, a light and happy affair to look back on fondly when we are old and wed to others. I thought I could bear it, could stand to suffer the kisses and – and other things, by the peaches and so on, but…”

“But?” prompted Makalaurë, his smile fading.

“I think I love him.” Maitimo sank down, missing the ottoman by a good foot, and landed on Míriel’s weaving with a clatter of long limbs. He folded forward and buried his head in his arms. “Help me, whatever shall I do? He cannot know, he mustn’t, I should not put such pressures on him but brother…” Maitimo lifted red-rimmed eyes. “I cannot take this torment much longer.”


“So,” said Irissë, running wax over her bowstring. “You and Maitimo, eh. How’s that going?”

“Excellent,” said Findekáno, wiping glue from his fletching. “I shall marry that man someday.”

silverhawk:

silverhawk:

if ur not into warrior cats its okay but if u ask someone who has the potential to be ur significant other what their fave warrior cat is and they say ashfur u gotta run. like i dont care if u dont know what wc is. it doesnt matter if u dont know what an ash or fur is. run, get tf outta there. u will thank me later.

ive gotten asks / messages / and notes on this post asking “wait whose ashfur what did he do” and lemme just explain to u why you, a person who does not know about warrior cats, should fuckin run out of a relationship or friendship if someone says “ashfur is my favorite wc character!”:

ok so ashfur is a character in warrior cats who, at first, was pretty okay? didnt get much attention, wanted to avenge his mothers death, all that jazz. but then he got a,,, weird amount of screen time in the second series, like he got toooo much attention. and when another character, squirrelflight, breaks up w/ her bf at the time, ashfur and her become friends! ashfur is nice to her! but he’s also a little too protective, he seems to not really believe in her strength on her own, etc. and reading, it becomes,,, increasingly clear that while squirrelflight views ashfur as a friend, he views her as a little more.

so squirrelflight and her bf try things out again, and squirrelflight lets ashfur down gently, telling him that no she doesnt feel the same and she doesnt want to be in a relaitonship w/ him.

and then the third series happens.

ashfur gets squirrellfight’s son to be a mentor towards, and ashfur literally beats up a kid, her kid. he beats up the kid of the girl he liked because she didnt want to be with him. and it gets so, so much worse. so ashfur decides to try and murder all three of squirrelflight’s children by trying to burn them alive. there’s a fire in camp, ashfur doesnt let squirrelflight or her kids cross, and only lets them go when squirrelflight tells him that her kids are adopted and having to lie about caring about them so ashfur would let them go because he literally would not do it any other way.

oh and also? ashfur tried murdering her dad too. like he was in cahoots w/ this other dude and they planned to have squirrelflights dad killed so squirrelflight could “feel ashfur’s pain”.

so yeah. if someone tells u “omg i love ashfur!!” fucking run. dont even hesitate. get the fuck out of there.