It's Wild That Virtually All Modern Digital Infrastructure Is Built To Constantly Spy On Us And Harvast

You know those anime meta posts along the lines of “I was born with pink hair. The doctors told my parents I was a Main Character and ever since my life has not known peace from demons/spirits/sports competitions/harems who find me”

Well I see that, and I raise you this:

An anime boy whose appearance is, by absolutely anyone’s account, completely and utterly average. Mundane hair. Mundane eyes. Not even glasses to set him the tiniest bit apart. A simple, unmemorable, unrecognizable civilian among a backdrop of millions.

And he has a lot of passions, and a lot of ambitions, which he hones every chance he gets. He’s dabbled in sports and archery and cooking and just about anything you could wrap a competition around. And he’s competed in many of these. Every chance he gets. With all of his passion and all of his might.

He’s crushed by the competition every single time.

Until one day–one day something clicks for him. Something that should have seemed obvious from the start and yet never was–as though everyone, including himself, was unwittingly blind to it. It clicks, when he realizes every kid who’s beaten him in competition, every kid who’s gone on to fame and glory and acclaim, has been some candy-haired gel-spiked ridiculously-dressed fucker. 

There’s some trend there that this Main Character boy can’t explain and can’t understand but he decides, this one time, fuck it. He’ll play along too. He’s got a model train competition in four days, and he’s got nothing more to lose. He hits up the department store, buys the pinkest, noxious-est, fruitiest hair dye he can find, the spikiest hair gel available, and the gaudiest clothes on the thrift rack. He enters the model train competition looking like a bubble gum gijinka.

And he wins.

Suddenly, the other candy-haired contestants notice him. They talk to him. They pledge rivalries. Girls notice him. Judges applaud him. Acclaimed model train aficionados offer him internships across the world. He’s hit on something. 

The main cast expands to cover just about every candy-hair cliche in the book: from the mostly-normal-looking demure school girl with the blue hair to the Naruto-est, yelling-est boy with the red-and-green spiked hair. The cool megane senpais, the purple haired tsunderes, suddenly everyone is interested in him. They’re prodigies and upstarts and underdogs and they truly believe that this main character boy is one of them.

So the main character boy maintains his ruse. He touches up his roots at dawn every morning and carefully attends to his gelled spikes and tells absolutely no one about this great, uncanny, unfathomable secret he’s stumbled upon. He wins his competitions left and right. He racks up the acclaim. He’s hailed as a prodigy of all trades, just now bursting onto the scene, and boils to the top of all his candy-haired peers.

He’s rising up, his every dream within his grasp. Until one day he gets a note under his door, taped to an old picture of his Normal Boring self from middle school, that says “You don’t belong”

I just wanted to share this article about Palestine's right to revolt and why it is important that we support it. It also has sources embedded in the text that debunk misinformation about them and Hamas. I implore everyone to read it and spread this information around.

There’s nothing more frustrating than someone who hates in such a way that they don’t realise that they hate and in such a subtle way that nobody else picks up on it either; so you can’t just Tell Them the ways in which they’re hurting people because they think their actions completely harmless.

I'm sorry but it was too good to disable RBs for so I'll take this hit personally

Hello welcome my ADHD themed gameshow, "So you were holding it literally moments ago but now it's gone" the where YOU look for whatever you were just holding while going increasingly mad

Hello. I’m sorry for begging again but my situation is pretty dire.

Recently, I’ve been diagnosed with chronic kidney disease, stage 4. It came out of nowhere and was caught by sheer luck on an unrelated test. Stage four means my kidneys are shriveled up and almost dead - currently at only 17% working condition. When it drops to 10%, which is stage 5 (prognosis is within a year) I will require a kidney transplant and/or dialysis. You can not live without it, and prognosis for dialysis/kidney transplant patients are 10 to 20 years. I’m very young and I really would like to continue having a peaceful life and work on my art. I’ve had many hardships before - I’ve fundraised to get money for rent because of a homophobic attack I’ve suffered, I’ve fundraised to escape my country, all within 2-3 years. I’m really grateful for all the help I’ve gotten and I believe in people’s kindness.

Please, if you’re able, share or pitch in to my gfm campaign made by my fiancé. Link in the reblog.

My comms are also still open if you’d like to help in that way and get some art.

Another one. Indigo art collector and critic teetering on the edge of an existential crisis.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME??

FREDDIE IS FUCKING FRANCIS BUTTON???

FREDDIE? GUILLERMO DE LA CRUZ’S BF??

PLAYED FRANCIS? THE THOMAS THORNES COUSIN??

HES STOLEN SOMEONES GIRL (who technically wasn’t their girl in the first place but yknow the pining was there) TWICE

This is so specific to my niche interests but man. I am frazzled. Bamboozled even.

You can’t do this to me. Not again. Not after everything we’ve been through

Get out of my house.