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Thanks I Hate It - Blog Posts

2 years ago

why do they always show cranberries in thos big pits n its implied its wet and possibly swimmable. do cranberries really grow like that. wh


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1 year ago

PSA: Tumblr/Wordpress is preparing to start selling our user data to Midjourney and OpenAI.

you have to MANUALLY opt out of it as well.

PSA: Tumblr/Wordpress Is Preparing To Start Selling Our User Data To Midjourney And OpenAI.
PSA: Tumblr/Wordpress Is Preparing To Start Selling Our User Data To Midjourney And OpenAI.
PSA: Tumblr/Wordpress Is Preparing To Start Selling Our User Data To Midjourney And OpenAI.
PSA: Tumblr/Wordpress Is Preparing To Start Selling Our User Data To Midjourney And OpenAI.

to opt out on desktop, click your blog ➡️ blog settings ➡️ scroll til you see visibility options and it’ll be the last option to toggle.

to opt out on mobile, click your blog ➡️ scroll then click visibility ➡️ toggle opt out option.

if you’ve already opted out of showing up in google searches, it’s preselected for you. but you also have to opt out for each blog you own separately, so if you’d like to prevent AI scraping your blog i’d really recommend taking the time to opt out. (source)


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3 years ago

literally always thinking about toby saying he got the idea for mettaton from playing ace attorney 2…… ghost mettaton watches a fucked up blu ray of the aa anime that he found and sees max galactica and matt engarde and fundamentally changes as a person. this is canon compliant


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4 months ago

QUOI??? PARDON??? PARDON???????

C'est comme ça que je l'apprends PTN dis-moi que c'est une putain de blague

lavenderhayes12 - One hellish mess of a blob

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7 months ago
Inktober, Day 6- Trek

Inktober, Day 6- Trek

💜🩷🤍 "...Didn't really vibe with this one" 🤍🩷💜


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8 months ago

Gene waiting until everyone else has had a turn in the showers because it takes him significantly longer to get the blood off and he doesn’t want to make anyone have to wait for him to be done before they can get a turn. And then when he walks away he feels no cleaner than he had been before because there are some stains that just can’t be washed away.


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1 year ago

I probably sound about 40% more confident than I should at any given time.


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11 months ago

you’re edwin payne. you’re a british schoolboy in the 1910s and you keep to yourself, mostly. you find your penny novels more interesting than people. there’s one boy who seems to like you but you’re too afraid to talk to him lest you make a fool of yourself. you fall asleep one night, unaware that anything might be amiss. you’re violently wrested from your slumber and dragged away scared and confused. your kidnappers are your classmates and they gag you and pin you down. one familiar boy starts chanting and—oh god, what are they calling you? you struggle against them but their grips are just too tight and before you know it the room is silent. you glimpse something crawling in a dark corner. so do they. now it’s your captors’ turn to be scared. in an instant, they’re gone, combusted into flames at a single touch. a demon reveals itself to you and you beg for mercy, for your life. it’s the only thing you can do. but the demon isn’t interested in sparing you, and he drags you down to hell.

at least he said he was sorry.

now you’re in hell. you think you’re dead, but you’re not. the demon is there too, and now he owns you. you think you’re dreaming—no, not dreaming. this is a nightmare you’ll wake up from at any moment. but the more time passes, the less faith you have that this is true. the demon says he doesn’t want you, he has no use for a living human. and so you find yourself alone, tethered in darkness while the demon searches for a trader. he finds one, and you’re brought out to meet him. this demon is different from the one who brought you here, you can feel it. more evil, more sinister. nevertheless, you attempt to take it in stride. you extend a hand and introduce yourself. the demon takes your hand with a hungry grin and you are transported in the blink of an eye. you find yourself in a poorly lit, dingy room with hallways of equal quality stretching and connecting with each other as far as you can see.

it’s eerily quiet and you instinctively know something is wrong. you stand and survey your surroundings. there’s no one here except you. but there is something. a massive lump sits in a dark corner, covered in shadows. you can’t get a proper look at it, but you don’t dare draw any closer. it shifts it’s position and you hear the clanging of a thousand pieces of glass. now you’re confused, but you’re not curious enough to investigate. you need to find a way out of here as quickly as possible, so you make a break for it. you ignore the thing and duck through the nearest hallway as fast as your slippers will take you. then you trip and fall, not quite stifling a sharp cry. you’ve scraped your knees and your palms are bleeding. but it’s no matter, you’ll force your way through the pain.

you realize you’re lost so you turn back, but you freeze before taking your first step. the thing that you couldn’t get a good look at is standing in the doorway, blotting out what little light shone through. it starts crawling toward you—slowly at first, but it picks up speed. the clanging rings in your ears and fear strikes through your heart. you run, but it’s faster than you. god, it’s faster than you. then your leg snags and a shooting pain runs up your body. you look down and see dozens of tiny limbs clawing at your skin, ripping it apart. you hear yourself scream, a bone-chilling, bloodcurdling scream with which you didn’t know your lungs were capable. it’s tearing into your body now. your arms, your torso, your chest. blood fills your throat and then you can’t scream anymore. you feel like you’re on fire. the last thing you see is a head made of a dozen glass faces.

and then you die.

and then you wake.

you see the same dark room as before. you clutch your stomach, the one that had just been ripped out, though the skin is now unmarred. your chest is similarly intact, as is your throat. there is no evidence that you’ve been mauled to shreds, but you feel it in your soul. your body remembers it too. just as you’re coming back to your senses, you hear the creature clambering back through the hall closer to you. you make yourself as small as possible, but it’s dragging something along with it. you squint, and see the most gruesome sight imaginable. it’s you. it’s your body, mangled and broken, covered in blood, hardly recognizable. your gut twists and you feel dizzy. that’s you. it was you. but now you’re here, and your body is there. so what does that make you? you don’t have time to think before your let out an involuntary sob. something squeezes around your heart as you realize your grave mistake. the creature turns its focus onto you. you know what’s about to happen and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

you’re edwin payne. yesterday, you were reading your favorite book instead of listening to a lecture. now you’re in hell, and this is your unspeakable reality for the next 73 years.


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3 months ago

A story about a boy who wore his movie fandom on his head.


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3 months ago
a digital drawing of harry fitzgerald encountering his mother. she yells, anguished, while being pulled away by an unseen member of security. she grips one of harry's hands. harry has his hands raised placatingly, looking uncomfortable and confused. text above reads: The company would like to remind you that Phone Guys are robots, and while life-like, aren't human.
a digital drawing of peter and caroline kennedy tightly embracing. caroline's face is smushed against peter's shoulder, and she's smiling, eyes wrenched shut and teary. text above them reads: They can't feel genuine feelings, like we can, and do not have unique names or memories about past lives or former families.
a digital drawing of jake wilson, dressed in warm clothing, looking at his reflection in the fogged-over window of his son's house. he raises one hand to the glass. text above him says: These problematic behaviors are the result of misprogrammed AI, and Phone Guy [##_##] can easily be replaced.

Again, we at Freddy's would like to reaffirm: Phone Guys bear no connection to deceased or missing employees. No matter how much a Phone Guy, or the family of a deceased employee may wish for it to be so... It's the agony of every tragedy. Those employees are dead and are incapable of coming back. It is easy for humans to get caught up in their emotions, and to project human qualities onto our animatronics. ... Fazbender Entertainment would like to end our log with a heartfelt request: Anyone with delusions regarding any former deceased employees... ...Please see a grief therapist and get some help.


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