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ashleyishere24 · 2 months
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Best joke of the year right here
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writerfromtheshore · 2 years
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Water’s Wish
Water’s Wish
“That was incredible!” the Matoran gasped. Tuyet smiled at the Matoran. “How did you do that, mighty Toa?”
“Years of practice, little one,” Tuyet insisted. It was a simple elemental trick for a Toa of Water, but to the powerless Matoran’s eyes, it appeared like a miracle.
“Who taught you? I need to know!” asked the Matoran. “If I became a Toa one day, I want to be coached by the same one that coached the great Toa Tuyet!”
Tuyet frowned, slightly agitated by the Matoran’s pestering. She had hoped the Matoran would move on with her day, but she persisted to hang around. As much as she wanted, this Matoran was annoying at best. Tuyet knew a little about fate— enough to sense that this Matoran was not destined to be a Toa.
A thought popped into her head. The Toa of Water smiled.
“The Great Spirit, in all his wisdom, taught me,” Tuyet lied. “because of something my Turaga taught me when I was a Matoran like yourself.”
“What was it?” the Matoran cried, excitement leaping from her voice. “I must know!”
The impatience of the Matoran was starting to wear on Tuyet. She did her best not to snap.
“It was when the twin moons of the Great Spirit were full, and his gaze was upon my island,” Tuyet began. A wolfish smile grew upon her mask as she ‘recounted’ the tale. “I went to the water in between the riptides on the beach. The beams of the moon were shining down on the water. I made my way into the ocean, and scooped it up in my hands.”
“Scoop up the ocean water?” the Matoran asked, confused. “Why would you do that? Was it blessed?
Tuyet held up a hand for the Matoran to be quiet. “My Turaga had told me if I scooped water and held the moon, I would have caught the sight of the Great Spirit,” she explained. “If either of the moons had stayed in the water in my hand, I would have caught the Great Spirit’s eye. He would see that I was a skilled enough Matoran to become a Toa.”
“…did you?”
“I stand before you as a Toa, little one,” Tuyet snipped. “Of course it did!”
“My apologies, Toa,” the Matoran bowed her head. “If I may, I have one question.”
“What is it?” she asked.
“How did this catch the sight of the Great Spirit Mata Nui?”
“It is said that the cupping of the moon gives you a month of good luck, little one,” Tuyet explained. “And in that month, the Great Spirit looked down from the stars and showed me wisdom that to this day I cannot describe. With that wisdom I was able to figure out where to find my Toa stone.”
The two were silent for a moment as the Matoran reveled in the ‘magic’ of the tale.
“I need to try this!” the Matoran breathed, incredulous.
“If you want to be a Toa, you may,” Tuyet said softly. “But I must give you some warnings, and you must heed them carefully.”
“What are they?” asked the Matoran. “I will follow them as you say.”
Tuyet smiled. The Matoran was taking her advice without any question. It was ridiculous, she thought, as to what these villagers would believe. “If you want the attention and blessing of the Great Spirit, you must do so under two conditions.
First, only go when the moon is full. If the twin moons are not at their fullest and brightest, then go nowhere near the water. The Great Spirit’s attention is elsewhere, and you will not find it on that night.”
“That makes sense,” the Matoran supposed. “And the second?”
“Make sure you go alone,” Tuyet said, her voice grave. “Go alone, and tell no one you are going. If someone comes with you or is even knows of your plans, then they will distract the Great Spirit from you. This needs to be your night and your night alone. No one else can be there. If there is someone else present, the Great Spirit will not be able to put his attention on solely you.”
The Matoran bowed deeply. “Toa Tuyet, you are a wise Toa, and I hope to one day walk with you as a sister. I am forever in your debt.”
Tuyet smiled and offered a fist to her. “Heed my advice little one, and we will have many adventures together as sisters of the tide.”
The Matoran clanked her fist, bowed once more, and ran along.
She did not happen to see the wolfish smile on Tuyet’s mask as she ran away.
***
Moonglow danced along the sand in the stillness of the night, casting a silvery shine along the coast.
The Ga-Matoran’s feet wove through this shine and the shadows that intertwined with it as she made her way down the beach. Excitement pulsed through her system as she breathed in the crisp air of the eve. She could hardly believe what was happening— the moment she had been waiting for was unfolding before her very eyes. To her, everything looked and felt just as she thought it should.
The twin moons were brimming full as they looked upon the night shore. Their light spilled into a miraculous pool out on the horizon line, before trailing their gaze towards the beach through long, matching columns of light. The shine of moonlight sparkled as it refracted in the ocean.
Long lines of whitewater toppled in to shore. They tumbled softly over the sand, before washing back into the greater ocean.
The Ga-Matoran’s pace quickened as she crossed the sands and shells, making her way toward the water. Her hands were in front of her as she walked, cupped almost as if in prayer.
Her breath was ragged as she stepped from the sand to the sea, so nervous with excitement as she was. The surf tumbled lightly around her legs as she waded into the water. She walked through effortlessly, not allowing anything to deter her from her goal.
“Oh Great Spirit,” she called into the night. “Please let me catch your gaze in these waters tonight. Please see me out here, so I might be graced with your blessing.”
The ocean glimmered with white light as she waded thigh deep into the ocean. Moonlight danced all around the Ga-Matoran, surrounding her in a nighttime glow.
She took her gaze off of the sky and stared solely at the ocean. The night sky was mesmerizing, but it was not where she needed to focus her efforts. She needed to look to the sea. The reflection of the moon was there, bobbing to and fro in the waves. The Ga-Matoran cupped her hands and dipped them into the ocean. She held her breath in anticipation, anxious to see what would come with her.
Her hands emerged with a hefty scoop of ocean being held so very carefully by her hopeful palms.
Moonlight came with her, glimmers visible in the sloshing of the night ocean. Little pockets of white light flashed in the water in her hands as she gazed as it, the moonlight sparkling into her mask.
The moon itself though did not come with her. The orbs were still only visible in the surface of the water, not coming with her hands.
She let the water spill between her fingers to join the rest of the ocean. Her eyes, so filled with starlight and hope, grew troubled. Did she do it wrong? The moon had been right there. She had scooped it, but it did not come with her.
She would try again, she decided. Fixing her gaze upon the reflection of the moon, she dipped her hands once more. She then lunged into the deeper waters, scooping at the sphere with her hands…
But when she brought it to her mask, the water was only glimmers of moonlight again.  
It came up for just a moment with her that time. She had seen it in her hands. She was almost there!
Toa Tuyet had not told her this would be an easy task, she understood that. The Great Spirit was not an easy being to get the attention of. He was testing her. If she really wanted his full attention, she had to try harder.
She pulled herself through the water, closer to the moon once more. Putting her hands out, she reached once more, only for a wave to wash over her.
The moon seemed to grow closer in her grip as she persisted. As it grew higher in the sky, the moon seemed to travel less, the Ga-Matoran had more and more of a grip on it. It was as if the Great Spirit was making her chase him, she thought. She would play his game, she decided, and in exchange she hoped he would give her what she wanted.
She kicked in the water, propelling herself toward the moon. Taking a stroke, she stroked underwater and pulled herself toward the moon…
A wave washed over her, tossing the Matoran back under the water. She let out a yell of surprise, only to feel the salt water rush into her mouth. Her world spun as the water toppled over her.
She popped to the surface, gasping for air. Her head went in all directions, until she could see that she was very far from the coast. The shore was but a thin line of white sand in the dark. She had ventured out very far.
The wave washing over her had awakened her in a way, driving all thoughts of the Great Spirit from her mind. She needed to get back to shore, she knew. It was dangerous to be this far out in the ocean at night.
The Matoran started to swim in shore. She pulled herself through the water towards the land,
trying with all her might only to make no headway. She could feel herself fatigued as she stroked, no longer energized as she had been moments before.
The Matoran’s strokes grew more frantic, as she tried fighting whatever was keeping her from the shore. She stroked and kicked rapidly, using all of her fading might. But her limited skill in the water and her efforts were no match for the riptides that were keeping her from the shore.
She moaned in despair, utterly exhausted in her fight against the ocean. She wanted to keep paddling, she wanted to kick more, but she was so tired…
A glimmer of moonlight caught her eye. The moon, now at its peak in the night, reflected right next to where the Matoran swam. Her eyes went wild, suddenly remembering what she had come out here for. She could reach for it, ask the Great Spirit for a wave—something, anything that would help her get to shore…
The water was pulling against her, and the moon was only a few strokes away. The Matoran had to get it, to make her wish— not for Toahood or power, but for the safety of the shore.
The Matoran took a deep breath. It was now or never. She plunged herself under, ready to kick and come up right next to the moon…
And after that the black water was unbroken for the rest of the night. The twin moons, eyes of the Great Spirit, beamed down to look at an empty beach and a still, uninterrupted sea.
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Day 19 Kobani Worldbuilding Question
https://www.imagineforest.com/blog/world-building-questions/
19. Does this world have any famous historical sites or buildings?
To be honest, I am a little bit out of it right now (Enjoying the Christmas spirit(s)). So this is going to be a short post. Plus, this question has already been answered on day 17. If you are interested in this question click here! There are interesting sites littered throughout Kobani. One interesting site in the land of Sinru, which I will expand on in the future, is the Shirishna Statutes. The Shirishna Statues depict the Sinrian king, Shirishna. Each statue is approximately 50 ft in height.
Totally unrelated, I was looking through the worldbuilding folder my partner and I share, and for whatever reason they have this saved.
DOGS
bork bork bork
bark bork
woof bark bork
CATS AND MUSTELIDS
meow meow meow
mrow meow
mrow mrow purr
BIRDS
tweet tweet tweet
caw caw
tweet honk honk
LIVESTOCK
moo moo neigh
beeeh beeeh
bleat neigh moo
I love them so much. 
I’ll be back with an actual post tomorrow, plus I’m gonna get back to editing my manuscript! Woot woot!
But also like, if y’all have any questions about my world just ask! Please ask questions if you have any; it just gives me an excuse to think more about the world I have created. It’s about a socially awkward, kinda queer giant and a little girl wandering around the fantasy version of bronze age Turkey. There are polyamorous pirates, fire demons, romance, monsters, and more!
I can post some of my older notes if people want.
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words-and-coffee · 7 months
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Alice Te Punga Somerville, Always Italicise: How to Write While Colonised - Kupu rere kē
[ID: A poem titled: Kupu rere kē. [in italics] My friend was advised to italicise all the foreign words in her poems. This advice came from a well-meaning woman with NZ poetry on her business card and an English accent in her mouth. I have been thinking about this advice. The convention of italicising words from other languages clarifies that some words are imported: it ensures readers can tell the difference between a foreign language and the language of home. I have been thinking about this advice. Marking the foreign words is also a kindness: every potential reader is reassured that although you're expected to understand the rest of the text, it's fine to consult a dictionary or native speaker for help with the italics. I have been thinking about this advice. Because I am a contrary person, at first I was outraged — but after a while I could see she had a point: when the foreign words are camouflaged in plain type you can forget how they came to be there, out of place, in the first place. I have been thinking about this advice and I have decided to follow it. Now all of my readers will be able to remember which words truly belong in -[end italics]- Aotearoa -[italics]- and which do not.
Next image is the futurama meme: to shreds you say...]
(Image ID by @bisexualshakespeare)
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nonebinary-leftbeef · 10 months
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DEVASTATING the lyric you've been mishearing is better than the real one
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redactedrem · 14 days
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Headcanon where after so many arguments between the batkids and Bruce over his paranoia and complete disregard for his kids privacy, the entire family had compromised with (in the healthiest way possible) downloading life360 on their phones and that's how they all keep track of each other.
Now Bruce knew that this is mostly for his benefit and is supposed to be a healthy alternative for his unhealthy paranoia and helicopter parenting, but what he wasn't expecting was for his kids to start keeping track of him.
He's putting gas in his car and Dick calls him because apparently Dick has been watching him drive around on the app? And Bruce is currently at a gas station thats right around the corner from a Taco Bell and now Dick wants him to get food for everyone since he's already there.
He's driving home from a meeting and Steph calls him because her and Duke were shopping in the area and wants to know if he can pick them up, when he asks how she knew he was on the same street, he gets a "Oh I just like to stalk everyone on the app for funsies." as an answer.
Jason calls him and he can barely get out a hello before Jason cuts him off, "Bruce why the fuck is your phone battery on 5%, charge your damn phone" which completely stuns him because why does he know that. He clears his throat before answering. "Jason, what?"
"Everyone can see each others phone batteries on '360, now charge your phone." Is all he gets before Jason hangs up on him.
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elodieunderglass · 7 months
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changes and trends in horror-genre films are linked to the anxieties of the culture in its time and place. Vampires are the manifestation of grappling with sexuality; aliens, of foreign influence. Horror from the Cold War is about apathy and annihilation; classic Japanese horror is characterised by “nature’s revenge”; psychological horror plays with anxieties that absorbed its audience, like pregnancy/abortion, mental illness, femininity. Some horror presses on the bruise of being trapped in a situation with upsetting tasks to complete, especially ones that compromise you as a person - reflecting the horrors and anxieties of capitalism etc etc etc. Cosmic horror is slightly out of fashion because our culture is more comfortable with, even wistful for, “the unknown.” Monster horror now has to be aware of itself, as a contingent of people now live in the freedom and comfort of saying “I would willingly, gladly, even preferentially fuck that monster.” But I don’t know much about films or genres: that ground has been covered by cleverer people.
I don’t actually like horror or movies. What interests me at the moment is how horror of the 2020s has an element of perception and paying attention.
Multiple movies in one year discussed monsters that killed you if you perceived them. There are monsters you can’t look at; monsters that kill you instantly if you get their attention. Monsters where you have to be silent, look down, hold still: pray that they pass over you. M Zombies have changed from a hand-waved virus that covers extras in splashy gore, to insidious spores. A disaster film is called Don’t Look Up, a horror film is called Nope. Even trashy nun horror sets up strange premises of keeping your eyes fixed on something as the devil GETS you.
No idea if this is anything. (I haven’t seen any of these things because, unfortunately, I hate them.) Someone who understands better than me could say something clever here, and I hope they do.
But the thing I’m thinking about is what this will look like to the future, as the Victorian sex vampires and Cold War anxieties look to us. I think they’ll have a little sympathy, but they probably won’t. You poor little prey animals, the kids will say, you were awfully afraid of facing up to things, weren’t you?
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gingerswagfreckles · 7 months
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After 146 days, the Writer's Strike has ended with a resounding success. Throughout constant attempts by the studios to threaten, gaslight, and otherwise divide the WGA, union members stood strong and kept fast in their demands. The result is a historic win guaranteeing not only pay increases and residual guarantees, but some of the first serious restrictions on the use of AI in a major industry.
This win is going to have a ripple effect not only throughout Hollywood but in all industries threatened by AI and wage reduction. Studio executives tried to insist that job replacement through AI is inevitable and wage increases for staff members is not financially viable. By refusing to give in for almost five long months, the writer's showed all of the US and frankly the world that that isn't true.
Organizing works. Unions work. Collective bargaining how we bring about a better future for ourselves and the next generation, and the WGA proved that today. Congratulations, Writer's Guild of America. #WGAstrong!!!
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inkskinned · 10 months
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at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"
like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.
"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."
... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.
and i'd still keep writing.
i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.
i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley
"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"
and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.
it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.
you create because you're greedy.
#every time someones like ''AI will replace u" im like. u will have to fucking KILL ME#there is no replacement here bc i am not filling a position. i am just writing#and the writing is what i need to be doing#writeblr#this probably doesn't make sense bc its sooo frustrating i rarely speak it the way i want to#edited for the typo wrote it and then was late to a meeting lol#i love u people who mention my typos genuinely bc i don't always catch them!!!! :) it is doing me a genuine favor!!!#my friend says i should tell you ''thank you beta editors'' but i don't know what that means#i made her promise it isn't a wolf fanfiction thing. so if it IS a wolf thing she is DEAD to me (just kidding i love her)#hey PS PS PS ??? if ur reading this thinking what it's saying is ''i am financially capable of losing this'' ur reading it wrong#i write for free. i always have. i have worked 5-7 jobs at once to make ends meet.#i did not grow up with access or money. i did not grow up with connections or like some kind of excuse#i grew up and worked my fucking ASS OFF. and i STILL!!! wrote!!! on the side!!! because i didn't know how not to!!!#i do not write for money!!!! i write because i fuckken NEED TO#i could be in the fucking desert i could be in the fuckken tundra i could be in total darkness#and i would still be writing pretentious angsty poetry about it#im not in any way saying it's a good thing. i'm not in any way implying that they're NOT tryna kill us#i'm saying. you could take away our jobs and we could go hungry and we could suffer#and from that suffering (if i know us) we'd still fuckin make art.#i would LOVE to be able to make money doing this! i never have been able to. but i don't NEED to. i will find a way to make my life work#even if it means being miserable#but i will not give up this thing. for the whole world.
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olive-riggzey · 9 months
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I made this to combat my current issue:
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dudedidujust · 1 month
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Au where Damian comes to Gotham with the goal of infiltrating and eventually overthrowing Batman instead of inheriting the mantle. Not much changes from canon except for the fact that he views everything that batman owns as his. That's his future cave and his future batmobile. This also includes his robins. After all everyone knows Batman wouldn't really be Batman without them.
Cue a very bewildered Tim being lectured on his eating habits by a righteous Damian who won't let one of his people take shortcuts with their health.
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nat-20s · 3 months
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Biggest hindrance of Doctor Who being a family show is that it ends up preventing authenticity. By which I specifically mean there's no damn way that Donna's response to some of the things The Doctor says wouldn't have been "Fuck off."
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cuubism · 3 months
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you guys know about the hobby lobby smuggling scandal right
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Love a self-inflicted time loop. The main character isn’t trapped.  They can stop whenever they want.  But how can they when things aren’t perfect yet?  They can do better than this.  They need to try again.  They can get it right this time.  They just need to try again.  They can stop anytime they want.  Just one more time.  They can fix this. They just need to try again.  There are still things to fix.  They just need to try again.
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tagfer · 2 years
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cell phone doesn't like water because it is a combination of the other three elements. it is a rock (earth) that we fill with lightning (fire) that can control radio waves (air). if it contained water too, it would be too perfect; it would be like a god. to prevent this, the universe kills the would be uniter-of-the-elements. it's basic science.
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