thinking about fleetwood mac and how they actually sang songs about each other. and performed them. about how much they loved or hated each other like what the fuck how
I mean can you imagine. singing about how somebody broke your heart and they’re literally harmonizing. they’re right fucking there. they’re in touching distance. insanity! complete insanity! I would either break down crying or fully snap and break their neck
fucking. silver springs!!! ‘you’ll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you!’ no fucking kidding he won’t stevie he’s literally behind you playing the drums! absolute madlads
This live performance feels like I’m watching my parents fighting in the kitchen
no U are not anyones “yandere girlfriend” you are a white girl with cat ear headphones who calls herself mizaki chan
This post makes people so angry op is in witness protection
I’ve seen Tumblr being a broken mess before but this post really takes the cake. OP doesnt have a name. If you look in the notes half the reblogs are just colons. I’ve seen people say clicking on OP’s blog brings them to an entirely random one, and that they couldnt exit it. You’ve got people investigating OP, and white girls getting all defensive. One of those heritage posts blogs is there. If I wanted to show someone peak Tumblr and what its like on here I’d just show them this post.
There’s no URL because this is a message from god
behold, a burning bush
What, for me it’s
The bush is burning so bright, it’s gotta wear shades
op isn’t even *here* when you’re reblogging it
someone explain what the hell is going on here
because that’s definitely a blog you can click on
this person hasn’t even been inactive for that long and it’s impossible to date the original post since it no longer exists but like yeah this is a functioning website people want to use to make money.
“The prince just fell in love with Cinderella because of her looks!”
Wrong. Okay, picture this–
So there’s the prince, okay? He’s like, smack dab in the center of the ballroom, and he is like, horrifically aware that this whole ball thing is a result of his dad falling into a panic about the royal lineage or whatever and he’s stuck listening to highborn girl after highborn girl, all lined up, introducing themselves like, “Oh yeah my family’s been a longtime supporter of the crown, and I think you’re cute, *cough* I’ve been told I have child-bearing hips *cough* Who said that? Anyway–” and Princey boy is just smiling through it, he has been the center of attention for entirely too long, he misses his emotional support horse, and is just internally like “Someone please kill me now.” And then… he sees her–This isn’t a love at first sight thing, this is a ‘what the hell is going on over there’ thing, because this girl has not gotten into the Debutante line for a solid 45 minutes.
She’s just at the hors d’oeuvres table going HAM on the prosciutto-wrapped asparagus, and like, she’s polite about it, she’s happy to move aside for other people grabbing punch and canapes (and she’s really so sweet with the wait staff, it’s kind of cute because they’re like… definitely not used to being acknowledged) but it’s like, “Damn girl, did you not eat today?” and then the prince is kind of stuck with the uncomfortable thought of ‘how many girls starved themselves to fit into a corset for this.’ And then the Prince realizes he’s missed the past 4 Debutante introductions because he’s watching Mystery girl hork down crab rangoons. So he’s like, “Excuse me” and manages to break free from the never-ending parade of girls who will hop on his dick for status.
And as he’s approaching Mystery Girl, it’s kind of hitting him that something’s not quite natural about her. Not fake, but not quite real. But at the same time this whole evening’s been just a whole circus of people acting fake as hell, so like, someone seeming a little off doesn’t seem bad, necessarily. And he sidles up to her like, “Hi,” and she’s like, “Oh–hey, have you tried the tapenade?” and she points to one of the plates, and at this point, he could hit her with the “You don’t know who I am, do you?” deal or the “Very funny, I see your play” deal, but at this point it occurs to him that, no, he hasn’t had anything to eat throughout this whole damn ball, partially because of being stuck in the debutante parade, partially because of nerves, and there’s something so disarming about the question that he grabs a crostini and she still seems so food-focused that it doesn’t seem possible that this is a play. So they both grab little plates and ditch the party.
She pretty much clears her plate in under two minutes and then has half of his plate, he’s cool with it, mostly he’s just absolutely fascinated listening to her.
See here’s the thing about Cinderella:
1. She doesn’t know he’s the prince. Like yeah, he’s been at the center of the room, but she’s kind of spent half the party eagerly looking around everywhere she’s allowed to go (”Have you seen rose garden? Have you seen the solarium??” further confirmation that she doesn’t know who she’s talking to) and the other half stuffing her face with food.
2. She assumes she’s never going to see anyone here tonight again, and no one recognizes her, so she has no filter.
So she’s just talking about whatever with this guy. He seems cool. She talks about her friends, who are rats. She makes little outfits for them. Sometimes they bring her little gifts. She is already the coolest person the prince has ever met because of this. She pretty much offhandedly talks about whatever is fucked up about the kingdom that would take his advisors two hours of hemming and hawing and watering down to address. She just says it like it’s nothing, just funky little things she’s observed, and again, she’s not aware that he’s the prince, but it’s still pretty damn bold to bring up at a literal royal ball.
She…seems to have the majority of graces that lots of girls from Respectable Families™ have, but there’s something strange about it, something simultaneously broken and hardened, like the way you can see where ice has thawed and re-frozen. Also the way she talks about her family, and the way she avoids talking about her family– is raising several red flags, not in the “Oh this is another person trying to take advantage of me” sense, but in the “Oh fuck, something’s gone really wrong and you need help” sense and also lowkey a ‘damn is she even getting fed?’ sense. But he can’t say, ‘Hey, that’s not fucking normal for people to say that to you or treat you that way. We need to get you out of there,’ without sounding crazy himself, so for now, he’s just going to chill, make sure she’s comfortable, and keep enjoying the evening. She’s somehow befriended like 4 of the waitstaff so they’re willing to cover for them while they disappear for a little bit, and they get plenty of time to talk, but eventually it hits her that she hasn’t danced yet and she’s like “Come on! I bet we can make the prince jealous!” and he just bursts out laughing at that like “hell yeah, let’s make the prince jealous. He’s a real asshole.” Like clearly she’s having a good time, so who is he to make it weird? So they head back to the ballroom and they dance. And our girl, Mystery Girl, Cinderella, while they’re dancing, becomes acutely aware that everyone is staring. That doesn’t seem quite right. Like, yeah she’s hot, she knows she’s hot, but at least a good third of the party should still be focused on the prince, right? Where is that guy, anyway?
Oh.
Oh wait.
Ohshit.
And Princey Boy actually picks up on her realization and they whisper argue for like 3 minutes. “Why didn’t you tell me?! Now I feel like a goddamn idiot!” “I dunno it was nice being treated like a normal person” “Well metreatingyou like a normal person makes me a goddamn felon or something did you consider that?!” “Hey–Hey–it’s cool–you’re cool–I think you’re amazing, and if anyone says shit about you, I can shut it down.” “Well I don’t like that! That’s fucked up!” “I agree. It is fucked up, but I believe in you, and I think you should have a chance, and I’m here to back you up. I know power is fucked up right now. I know. But are you cool with working with me to change that?” And our girl Cindy pauses on that for a couple seconds, because.. she’s just spent hours with this guy and like.. she knows he’s a good guy, she knows he means well, so she’s like, “I don’t know how long I can actually work with you.” and the prince is like “Look, I know your home situation is complicated right now, but I really think we can–”
And then the bell starts ringing.
It’s midnight.
And then she takes off in a panic, and our prince just met the coolest person ever, and like, he’s pretty sure whatever situation they’re headed back to is fucked up, and all he’s got going to find her is a shoe. A shoe.
Wow!!! I seriously can’t thank everyone enough for wanting to follow this blog. Unfortunately, I really don’t know of anything I could do for a giveaway or anything. But, truly, it means the world to me to know that people like what I put up here! Blessed be!
[Image ID: a Twitter thread by Robert G Reeve that reads “I’m back from a week at my mom’s house and now I’m getting ads for her toothpaste brand, the brand I’ve been putting in my mouth for a week. We never talked about this brand or googled it or anything like that.
As a privacy tech worker, let me explain why this is happening.
First of all, your social media apps are not listening to you. This is a conspiracy theory. It’s been debunked over and over again.
But frankly they don’t need to because everything else you give them unthinkingly is way cheaper and way more powerful.
Your apps collect a ton of data from your phone. Your unique device ID. Your location. Your demographics. Weknowdis.
Data aggregators pay to pull in data from EVERYWHERE. When I use my discount card at the grocery store? Every purchase? That’s a dataset for sale.
They can match my Harris Teeter purchases to my Twitter account because I have both those companies my my email address and phone number and I agreed to all that data-sharing when I accepted those terms of service and the privacy policy.
Here’s where it gets truly nuts, though.
If my phone is regularly in the same GPS location as another phone, they take note of that. They start reconstructing the web of people I’m in regular contact with.
The advertisers can cross-reference my interests and browsing history and purchase history to those around me.
Family. Friends. Coworkers.
It will serve me ads for things I DON’T WANT, but it knows someone in regularly contact with me might want.
To subliminally get me to start a conversation about, I don’t know, fucking toothpaste.
It never needed to listen to me for this. It’s just comparing aggregated metadata.
So. They know my mom’s toothpaste. They know I was at my mom’s. They know I have Twitter. Now I get Twitter ads for mom’s toothpaste.
Your data isn’t just about you. It’s about how it can be used against every person you know, and people you don’t. To shape behavior unconsciously.
Apple’s latest updates let you block apps’ tracking and Facebook is MAD. They’re BEGGING you to just press accept and go back to business as usual.
Block the fuck out of every apps’ ads. It’s not just about you: your data reshapes the internet.”/ end ID]
