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Sokka's girlfriend looked great today.

#gasp!

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dude the abyss is totally gazing back at you. she obviously wants you. go over there and talk to her! get her number

#omg is she?!

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i’m so much more than just a hater. i’m also a lesbian. 

#it me

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@docholligay vibes

soup de jour: soup of the day

soup de jure: soup the government wants you to eat

soup de facto: the soup everyone actually eats

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Hi, Tumblr. It’s Tumblr. We’re working on some things that we want to share with you. 

AI companies are acquiring content across the internet for a variety of purposes in all sorts of ways. There are currently very few regulations giving individuals control over how their content is used by AI platforms. Proposed regulations around the world, like the European Union’s AI Act, would give individuals more control over whether and how their content is utilized by this emerging technology. We support this right regardless of geographic location, so we’re releasing a toggle to opt out of sharing content from your public blogs with third parties, including AI platforms that use this content for model training. We’re also working with partners to ensure you have as much control as possible regarding what content is used.

Here are the important details:

We already discourage AI crawlers from gathering content from Tumblr and will continue to do so, save for those with which we partner. 

We want to represent all of you on Tumblr and ensure that protections are in place for how your content is used. We are committed to making sure our partners respect those decisions.

To opt out of sharing your public blogs’ content with third parties, visit each of your public blogs’ blog settings via the web interface and toggle on the “Prevent third-party sharing” option. 

For instructions on how to opt out using the latest version of the app, please visit this Help Center doc. 

Please note: If you’ve already chosen to discourage search crawling of your blog in your settings, we’ve automatically enabled the “Prevent third-party sharing” option.

If you have concerns, please read through the Help Center doc linked above and contact us via Support if you still have questions.

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ALSO i drew my best piece to date but absolutely cant share it with anyone ever because its super self indulgent and explicit

#the tragedy of making what you want #is that sometimes you are a degenerate

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I just wanted to say, I’m really proud of my progress over the last month. The last couple of years have been challenging for a few different reasons, but as of right now I’m tracking my calories, on track for going to the gym 4 times this week, starting a new ttrpg game, and killin’ it at work and in my relationship and with my friends.

Sometimes its easy to get discouraged that you’re not where you want to be, but you cant forget to celebrate the huge changes as they’re coming along the way too!

#lets fucking get it 2024!! #okay im getting back to fighting fit form #rehabbing my fucking knee #getting back to my goal physique #i have my hair game on point now to become an instagram fitness celeb

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am i the only one who feels like this

#my design philosophy mostly #it me im the cat

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Magical girls be like "I'm gonna save the world" then only save the lesbian they like and leave the rest of the world to burn

#get good everybody else

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Okay so there's been something I've been chewing on for the past couple of days. The sentiment of "tumblr lacks critical thinking/reading comprehension" is not exactly an uncommon one, but I want to give context to one example of what that means and why it's to people's detriment to approach life in this way.

Let's take the age old "I, tumblr user, don't consume media that is impure and also by extension judge people who do" sentiment that runs rampant here.

What is actually the basis of this idea? Where does this come from? I think it originates from the notion that consuming "good" media is an action condoned and encouraged by society, mostly. We all want to be consumers of "good" things. Similarly, we want the things we like to be celebrated and liked by other people because it's a form of social acceptance.

But here's the rub - "Good" and "Bad" are words and abstractions that carry with it MULTIPLE meanings of varying nuance.

Something can be "good" meaning "I enjoyed it".

Something can be "good" meaning regardless of my personal thoughts of the subject, it is of high quality and has merit.

Something can be "good" meaning it is morally upstanding.

I often see people who cannot distinguish between the three (or alternatively, deliberate obfuscate the meanings with the intention of winning public opinion) and paint their subjects with one overall "Good" brush. It's an over-simplication, where to be good means all three: "I like it = It is of high quality = It is Morally Good".

That's just not inherently true - it CAN be true, something can be "good" in all the ways described above, but just because something meets the definition of "good" in one of those definitions, it does not mean that it is universally "good".

Something can be good meaning I like it and also be Bad as in it is of low quality.

Something can be Bad as in I dislike it or it's morally suspect, but be Good in terms of being high quality and relevant (an aside, watch Tar if you haven't, it's a great movie about artistry and the notion of "can terrible people do great things"). And we have to be okay with that.

These truths are not contradictory and often exist in parallel with each other. Sometimes, the worst person you know will be right. Sometimes, someone you think is overall good will will produce something shitty. You have to be okay with that, because denying this reality will absolutely inhibit your ability to not only understand society, affect your self esteem and self identification, but it will ACTIVELY contribute to you dehumanizing your enemies.

Where have we seen "I dislike a thing" lead to "It's Bad (as in evil)"? Insert any example of censorship you can think of, up to and including the entire state of Texas trying it's hardest to ban drag on the grounds of "it's morally evil because [insert moral evil acting as a fearmongering device here]".

Lacking the ability and the desire to distinguish between the three will lead to terrible arguments and disingenuous bad faith assertions, but mostly, it limits your ability to understand and experience life and see the whole picture.

#this is just one example #but its the one that's been bothering me the most lately #fake moralization of things to try and justify people's own personal preferences #at best it feels cheap and lazy #at worst intentionally manipulative #just embrace that most things in life do not have moral weight #and internalize the fact that if you want to be a Good person #it will require you to ACTUALLY do Good things #and no watching a tv show or posting online doesnt count as a Good thing

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"can i be mean for a second?" you can be mean for 10,000 years and i'll hang onto your every word, my queen. my goddess

#TRUER WORDS HAVE NEVER BEEN SAID #god #i love being a cunt #i love us being bitches together #its not my fault im just right and everyone else is so so wrong

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Girl are you the Hays Code the way you consider media irredeemable if it depicts anything that strays away from the norm you're comfortable with or depicts anything morally questionable without definitively condemning it and anyone associated with it, therefore creating worse stories and content and making it difficult for people to engage with complicated issues from a nuanced and controlled perspective?

#nevermind like actual complex and nuanced topics #y'all cant even handle things you personally dislike

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this is so disingenuous, lol. i know we're on the taylor oversaturation/hate train but c'mon.

Make fun of her because she's cringy as fuck for the stupid album title, up her own ass about her shit, or you dislike her music or her vibes, whatever.

what is going on in gaza is a global tragedy. why are you trying to equate her using a common creative trope that has been around for eons (the 'tortured artist') in her silly pop music as a indictment of her moral character. do you not see how stupid that is? the slippery slope it becomes?

t*ylor sw*ft is calling her new album “poems of a tortured artist” and i’m like oh are you? while there’s a genocide going on? while hospitals are being bombed and people are being killed? are you tortured writing those songs on either of your private jets or one of your eight houses with one of the biggest fanbases in the world who defend you tooth and nail no matter what? are you tortured??????

#why are you on tumblr when there is a genocide happening #why are you talking about your interests when there is a genocide happening #why are you complaining about having a bad day when there is a genocide happening #i literally dont even care about taylor but JESUS i can smell the morality police from a mile away #all youre doing is using gaza as a cudgel to morally justify your sense of superiority about hating taylor #which cheapens the horror of what's happening in gaza at best #and distracts from it at worst #you can just say you hate her and move on like the rest of us #you dont need a ~*~REASON~*~ to do so no one cares

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and like literally why xena warrior princess was so good is because they COULDNT acknowledge the relationship openly so they would have bonkers yonkers moments like xena & gabrielle getting crucified side by side and you FELT it. you KNEW they were in love. but nobody goes to these absurd lengths anymore they just have their gays kiss on the lips and expect us to applaud and its so cheap and weaksauce

#bring it back

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Choose Your Own Adventure (jan 2024)

I think the problem is that I want to write GOOD things instead of writing anything at all, and I think that's kind of a mistake or at least i think it's not helping me. In any case, I've decided I'm going to write BAD things. Do y'all remember the choose your own adventure novels from the 70s and 80s? No, because so many of your are in class with my daughter fingerpainting, but trust me they were always bad. They were always bad! So I'm writing something like that, and it's going to be bad, or maybe accidentally good, but I don't fucking care which. I'm going to add onto it every month, and you can play along if you like. After every segment it'll basically ask the audience what we do next via a poll. Enjoy. Or hate. I gotta do something and this is something. The perfect is the enemy of the good and the good is the enemy of the accomplished. It's a haunted house story. OKay.

Some houses are histories in themselves. The story is told, complete, before all witnesses, in the lean of a building, a rough and torn roof, or a well-kept garden with an elm grown old, a bench curved around it. You imagine lives for these houses, even moreso than for the people in them. They are the old men in the pub, they are the spurned spinster, they are the young mother. These bricks and stones and lines of wood contain our tragedies and triumphs and turn them to their own. They are the books of our lives that we cannot write for fear of the honesty. 

It was, to the observer, such a house. 

It must have been grand, once. The knockers bore witness to such a thing, iron and old brass twisted together like snakes into the letter of a family that must have prospered here long ago. The moon shone off that knocker, silvering her like a wilted duchess, her back bowed by the swell and retraction of time’s seasons. The door itself was not one, but two, a pair of twins craved by craftsmen and then by circumstance, the detailing of leaves and acorns in its edging torn away and scratched in places, offering them a violent individuality. 

The house branched from those two doors, the twins made mere siblings still echoing each other into an angle on either side, slowly boxing in a sandy courtyard where only a handful of shabbat bushes now grew. Cracks crept up the side of the house, splitting and spreading like a rumor as they dug into the high walls, dipping under the roof eaves. Where the cracks could not be seen, it was only for the veiling of more than half dead vines slowly climbing the stained and sickly yellow paint, pushing out the dark and tattered shutters. 

For all its scars, what one noticed at the approach was the sheer immensity of the place, as modest as a whore, as spartan as a pope. The grand doubling of it, rows of windows staring in the moonlight, reflecting a life out into the grit of the courtyard, the house curving at either end in grand octagonal bays, one enclosed, and one free, suggesting a difference that might have been born and not made. 

All of it was perfectly bisected by a high tower that rose above the doors, peering over a widow’s walk. It, too, was made with the sharp lines of an octagon, square glass panels neither revealing nor glimmering, only taking in the night, capped with a dome so dark it blended into the night sky, even as the moon looked on. A clock, stopped at three fifteen, adorned the front of the tower, its white paint once stark against the black but now faded to a dispassionate grey. An iron flag atop the dome should have shown which way the wind was going, but stayed it its place, pointing outward to the front gate. 

Fog settled over this forgotten ruin like a tender blanket over the dead, hiding it from the world. 

Standing in the middle of a great path of weedy grass, a flashlight held in her hand, Lena Oxton gazed up at the house. She was not immune to the human sense of augury in such a house, but neither was she immune to the pouring rain that fell off the edge of her cap and brushed against her chin, nor the bickering taking place in the van behind her. Signs and portents may or may not be real, and ghosts might only be a suggestion, but the rain was very real, she was sodden and cold , and someone was about to die in more than a suggestive way if they had to spend the night in that small van. 

She looked back toward the wall where the van was parked, its headlights only just visible over the wall. Even with that being true, she glanced over her shoulder toward the house and considered, just for a moment, bolting back toward that crumbling brick and throwing herself over it. But only a moment. Fear did not get to hold the yoke. She had never allowed it before, and she wasn’t going to start with a house just because it had gone to rack and ruin. 

Lena stepped toward the carved and pitted door, took a breath, and knocked.

Who's in the van? <-- I'm a voting link!

#this is SUCH A COOL FUCKING IDEA #im so excited to see how it goes!

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femme butch date night

#the REAL ONES will know who’s drink is whos #femme/butch #femme #butch