To illustrate this post by @mayahawkse I would like to visualize to you the difference:
A post in 2023:
A post in 2014:
A zoom out of the same post:
This is what a community looks like.
See how in 2023 almost all of the reblogs come from the OP, from their few hours/days in the tag search. Meanwhile in 2014 the % of reblogs from OP is insignificant, because most of the reblogs come from the reblogs within the fandom, within the micro-communities formed there. You didn't need to rely on tags, or search, or being featured. Because the community took care of you, made sure to pass the work between themselves and onto their blog and exposed their followers to it. It kept works alive for years.
It's not JUST the reblog/like ratio that causing this issue, it's the type of interaction people have. They're content with scrolling and liking the search engine, instead of actually having a reblogging relationship with other blogs in their community.
Anyways, if you want to see more content you like, the only true way to make it happen is to reblog it. Likes do not forward content in no way but making OP feel nice. Reblogs on the other hand make content eternal. They make it relevant, they make it exist outside of a fickle tumblr search that hardly works on the best of days.
If you want more of something, reblog it.
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I don't know who needs to hear this, but as a creator -
I am fine with "the audience" -
downloading my fics
printing my fics
copy/pasting or screenshotting my fics
sharing your saved copy of my fics with anyone else who might want them in the unlikely but never impossible case that my fics are no longer available on ao3
making a book of my fic(s) and running your fingers across the pages while lovingly whispering my precioussss
doing these things with anything I create for fandom, such as meta, headcanons, au nonsense like 'texts from the brodinsons,' etc
I am not fine with "the audience"
doing any of the above with the purpose/intent of plagiarizing my work or passing it off as their own in any capacity
feeding my work into ai for any reason whatsoever
Save the fandom things. Preserve the fandom things. Respect the fandom things.
Enjoy the fandom things.
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People who experience romantic and/or sexual attraction are so funny sometimes
They will ask "who's your crush?" And you will answer "i don't have one" and then it starts
"Why are you liying?", "you can trust me", "don't hide", "i don't belive you", "what?! Everyone has one come on", "hmhu it's [name] isn't it?".
in the extreme cases (mine once) they won't let you even leave the conversation and place it started
And so you lie
And when if "confession" comes from "name" and you reject it every single persson who made you lie will be angry.
Honey. Why the fuck are you angry? You decided a lie is more realistic than reality
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Speaking as someone who's been outed many, many times, by both "allies" and homo/transphobes, some of yall are way too comfortable sharing other peoples' queer identities.
"But what if I'm trying to be funny?" Doesn't matter.
"But what if I'm an ally?" Doesn't matter
"But what if the person I'm talking to is an ally?" Doesn't matter.
"But what if I'm queer?" Doesn't matter
"But what if the person I'm talking to is queer?" Doesn't matter.
"But what if the person I'm talking about is a stranger?" Doesn't matter.
"But what if it's really obvious?" First of all, ew. Second of all, Doesn't matter.
"But what if they didn't come out to me, I just figured it out on my own?" Doesn't matter.
"But what if they're getting misgendered?" It's just as easy to say 'actually she's a girl' as it is to say 'actually she's transgender and uses she/her'. If that person is pretransition, it's also easy to just bite your tongue and not say anything.
Unless that person has explicitly given you permission to share that information, you DON'T. No matter how certain you are that everyone is accepting, no matter how noble your intentions, it's not your information to share. Getting clocked sucks, getting outed sucks, and they're both an invasion of privacy no matter who's doing it.
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the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.
three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.
two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.
their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.
one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.
i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.
i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.
and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?
you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.
a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.
someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.
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white people stop talking.
and i don't mean stop talking about palestine or stop sharing news or information, i'm saying stop TALKING. you are not our white saviors. you should not talk over us. every single thing you guys are saying, palestinians have said it tenfold. stop feeling as though you are the spokesperson for all of palestine. you do not get to talk over palestinian voices. you must BOOST our voices. you must share OUR voices. you must speak OUT about SHARING our voices. we are and have been saying everything you're saying only now for 75 years. you don't get to prounce around all up here and claim you're suddenly a voice for palestinians. we have our own voices. we have said everything. stop taking the light away from us sharing our experiences and pretending as though you have a part or a role in talking about our grief.
we need people to share OUR voices. we need people to share OUR dreams. OUR lives. OUR strength. we do not need you to speak for us, we need you to help find a place for US to speak.
i'm so tired of the idea that "no one listens to the poc so we as white people must speak for them because everyone only listens to white people". i'm tired. MAKE THEM LISTEN TO US. do not speak for us, but share OUR voices. FORCE the world to LISTEN to US.
BOOST OUR VOICES. SHARE OUR STRUGGLES. OUR DREAMS. OUR STRENGTH. MAKE THEM LISTEN. MAKE THE WORLD LISTEN.
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