Literally If You’re New To Tumblr: Reblog Shit

Can I just… talk for a moment… about how much I love how, if you know them well, words don’t have synonyms?

English, for example, is a fantastic disaster. It has so many words for things that are basically the same, and I find there’s few joys in writing like finding the right word for a sentence. Hunting down that peculiar word with particular meaning that fits in seamlessly in a structure, so the story flows on by without any bumps or leaks.

Like how a shout is typically about volume, while a yell carries an angry edge and a holler carries a mocking one. A scream has shrillness, a roar has ferocity, and a screech has outrage. 

This is not to say that a yell cannot be happy or a holler cannot be complimentary, or that they cannot share these traits, but they are different words with different connotations. I love choosing the right one for a sentence, not only for its meanings but for how it sounds when read aloud. (Do I want sounds that slide together, peaceful and seamless, or something that jolts the reader with its contrast? Snap!)

I love how many words for human habitats there are. I love how cottage sounds quaint and cabin sounds rustic. I love steadiness of house, the elegance of residence, the stateliness of manor, and tired stubbornness of shack. I love how a dwelling is different to a den.

And I love how none of them can really touch the possessive warmness of all the connotations of home.

Words are great.

Ever get so confused you can feel the question marks popping out of your head?

Ok so I’ve found a way to describe what Neurodivergent Can’t Do Task Mode™ feels like to neurotypicals

So you know how you can’t make yourself put your hand down on a hot stovetop? There’s a part of your brain that stops you from doing that? That’s what Neurodivergent Can’t Do Task Mode™ feels like

Even if we want to do it, there’s a barrier stopping us from doing it, and it’s really hard to override

And why does our brain see the task as a hot stovetop? Because when neurotypicals finish a task, they get serotonin, but we don’t get that satisfaction after completing a task. A neurotypical wouldn’t get serotonin from putting their hand on a hot stovetop, it would just hurt. When we can’t do a task, it’s because our brain knows that the task will hurt (metaphorically) and wants to avoid that.

It’s not that we’re choosing not to do the task, it’s that our brain is physically preventing us from doing it.

Neurotypicals can and should reblog but please don’t add anything

(Sorry/not sorry about the random bolding, it makes it easier for us to read)

Here's a little lesson in the Tumblr algorithm, for those who don't know: the only way for a post to be spread to someone's dash, after it's already been made, is through reblogs. Likes do very little for boosting visibility. Besides adding notes so a post has a higher likelihood of appearing at the top of search results for the tags they're featured in, likes are just caches to show/store posts you've liked. They do not significantly increase the likelihood that the post will be seen by more people. The only way to ensure this is to reblog it to your own blog, so your followers will see it.

Also, this isn't Twitter. I know that on Twitter, it's largely expected for most of your profile to consist of mostly your own tweets, and not too many retweets. Tumblr is extremely different, in that the entire site is made up of shared posts. The site is designed for maybe 5% of the content on your dash to be original content at any given moment, while 95% will be reblogs from others, and that's perfectly acceptable and expected, actually.

This is all to say that, I know a lot of you come from Tik Tok or Twitter, where liking content has a direct, positive effect on the content's visibility. I know that your FYP is dictated by what gets more likes/what the people you follow like, and that Twitter shows posts your following likes on the TL. But Tumblr is extremely different. So please, don't hesitate to reblog shit on this website, especially art/writing. If you liked an artist's work, the best thing you can do for them is reblog it because simply liking it will do very little to boost their post's visibility. This doesn't just apply to art either; if there's a PSA, theory, etc., that you enjoyed and want more people to see, the only way for that to happen is to reblog.

While finally watching the entire supernatural series that I never actually finished and writing a Numb3rs fanfic at the same. Certain things have begun to happen. 

Such as me realizing commonalities, say/typing Dean when I mean Don and vise versa, also imagining Don speaking with Dean’s voice though not the other way around. I don’t know if this is just my brain acting weird but these shows are oddly similar. Like you can’t tell me people haven’t noticed this before. 

The Derivative Chapter 16: Letters

Chapter 1 <- Chapter 15

“When you said that you purchased a new car, this isn’t exactly what I was picturing” Charlie pointed out as we approached Larry’s new classic.

“I don’t think any of us were,” I murmured.

“Oh, I know.” Larry said, rubbing his face with his hands “I guess it was a little impulsive of me, right?”

“Very Chitty Chitty Bang Bang” Amita commented.

“Nice car, Dr. Fleinhardt” we turned at the new voice to see Megan approaching. “Is it new?”

“Well, only in the sense that it’s newly in my possession” Larry explained.

“And it’s like, a ‘32?” the agent inquired.

“Uh ‘31, actually” the professor corrected. “Dawn of an amazing decade: F.D.R., Jesse Owens, Dirac’s prediction of antiparticles.” me, Amita, and Charlie exchanged looks as the man continued to speak “Yeah, our souls were rekindled.”

“I can’t help but see it as 70-year-old technology,” Charlie stated as Megan went around the other side of the vehicle to get a better look.

“What? Do you have no sense of nostalgia?” I asked.

“Yes, but also one of practicality” my uncle objected.

“You’re just jealous because you can’t drive a stick shift,” Larry told Charlie with a grin.

“Hey you can’t beat automatic transmission with cruise control.” Uncle C stated.

“Charlie tells us you’re looking for Skylar Wyatt’s stalker.” Amita spoke to Megan before I could get my next sarcastic comment out.

“Yeah, her security video didn’t pick up his image.” the agent explained “and I understand that camera placement is done by math formulas? Well, whoever designed it probably isn’t as good as you, so maybe you’ll find something they missed” she handed Charlie a disc.

“Larry, a more modern pursuit” Charlie declared.

“Okay” Larry chuckled, following Charlie off toward his office.

_____________

I chopped down on another spoonful of cereal as I read my book sitting cross-legged in a chair by the window. “Chvatal’s Art Gallery Theorem?” Charlie proposed.

Larry ripped a piece of tape off with his mouth as he stood up. “That would assume a simple polygon, though, wouldn’t it?” he pointed out.

“Polygons” Charlie grumbled.

“Wow” Alan exclaimed coming into the dining room from the kitchen “I was wondering why we had no cereal left or anything else that was in the cupboard”

“I didn’t let all of it go to waste” I pointed out, holding up my bowl so Gramps could see it.

He nodded slightly, his eyes on the cardboard structure Larry and Charlie had constructed on the table. “What in the world..”

“I needed the cartons,” Charlie explained. “we’re building a replica of Skylar Wyatt’s house. We’re checking the positioning of her security cameras for a blind spot.”

“Why didn’t you just go to the house and use that?” Alan inquired.

“Well, as part of this test, we need to be able to manipulate these walls so as to determine what types of angles would be possible under different scenarios” Charlie informed. “That’ll help us calculate these potential blind spots.”

“And for some reason, they won’t let us move the walls of the actual house,” Larry muttered.

“How inflexible of them,” Alan quipped looking over the replica.

“Like you could even move the walls” I muttered around a bite of cereal turning the page of my book.

“What is, uh” Alan walked around Larry to the other side of the replica “what are those?” he pointed to two little black marks on the board.

“That’s where the FBI found two footprints,” Uncle C answered.

“Ah. What conclusions have you come up with?” Alan asked.

“Polygons are annoying” I offered sarcastically as Charlie shook his head.

“For some reason,” Larry said, picking up one of the clips that was supposed to be a camera, “we have too many cameras.”

“That’s probably because neither one of you can read a blueprint” Alan muttered. Heading over to where the blueprints were stacked and putting on his glasses. “Let me just take a look at this.” his eyes bounced from the replica to the blueprints for a moment “now, you see here, you got the slide door in the wrong place, and the dimension of the parapet is wrong. It’s too high. Let me fix it for you.” he picked up a pair of scissors and started cutting.

“I-I feel like I’m in the fifth grade again” Charlie scoffed “remember, uh remember, Dad, when we did that show box thing?”

“Yeah, the diorama,” Alan agreed.

“Right,” Charlie smiled.

“Of Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address” gramps explained. “Yeah, your mother and I were so happy to be able to help you out with anything school-related that you conned us into doing the whole thing for you”

“I- hey! What are you..? I helped calculate the aspect ratios so we could get the depth effect right” Charlie objected.

“Yeah, and certainly aspect ratios were the key to perhaps the greatest oratory ever written” Larry muttered sarcastically as I chuckled and Charlie waved a hand at him in dismissal.

“There it is,” Alan declared, holding up the properly cut parapet. “Right size”

“Every entry and exit point seems to be covered in this array” Charlie voiced looking the replica over “the cameras should have seen him”

“Okay, well forgive me if I seem overly reductive here, but how do we know anyone was actually in this house?” Larry questioned.

“Well, you had that celebrity, right?” Alan pointed out “she said she saw him”

“People can lie,” I cautioned.

“Right. But there are also these footprints, guys.” Charlie objected. “I mean, this isn’t, uh, Sasquatch.”

“Must be something wrong with the cameras,” Gramps declared.

“Hacked? Or bad maintenance?” I suggested.

“They were all functioning” Charlie informed, putting his hands over his head and beginning to pace around the table.

“Well, maybe, there’s something wrong with the way they function.” Alan muttered.

“Okay, let’s remember: the human eye can only detect color within a certain narrow range of the spectrum. Now a camera, which replicates the ability of the human eye, is just as limited if not more so.” Larry mused.

“You’re right” Charlie declared leaning down “the camera’s an eye and eyes don’t see everything”

“So instead of Sasquach a ghost?” I asked sarcastically as I took another bite of cereal.

____________

“You’ve got to drive it more Larry” Amita stated as me, her, and the guys walked through campus. “I mean, you just take it to campus then bring it home”

“That car deserves the open road, Fleinhardt.” Charlie agreed.

“And it’ll make you look cool driving down the street” I pointed out.

“But the very thought of staining that perfect finish with sooty exhaust,” Larry objected “exposing it to the negligence of some Humvee driver on a cell phone”

“All right, Larry, it’s a car” Uncle C insisted “It’s whole function is to transport you from point A to point B”

“See, this is the philosophical schism” Larry declared “between a student of applied science and a student of the cosmos. For me aesthetic beauty is its function enough.”

“Or that’s just the excuse of a nervous physics professor” I quipped from the other side of my Uncle who chuckled slightly.

“Well, the aesthetic beauty of the sun is that it works,” Amita pointed out “not just that it’s bright”

“Hell of a point” Charlie agreed as we approached the car in question.

“Well, maybe it’s more art than a machine,” Larry suggested leaning on the vehicle.

“Yeah and art’s meant to be displayed” I stated.

“Hey, Megan” Amita called in greeting and I turned to see my father’s partner approaching.

“Hey, guys,” she replied.

“Hey. Uh, you’re here for the photo enhancement.” Charlie inferred “it’s um it’s still, you know, enhancing” he stammered.

“No, I’m here for FISH” she replied.

“The aquatic creature or handwriting analysis thing?” I asked with a slight smirk.

Charlie chuckled lightly putting a hand on my shoulder “I’m positive she’s referring to the Forensic Information System for Handwriting” he then turned back to her however Megan’s gaze was fixated on Larry’s car “All I’ll say is that I helped develop an algorithm for the secret service, uh, based on segmentation, or writing elements, that are considered to be in isolation, such as whole words or words separated by pen lifts-”

She held up a hand, her attention returning to the mathematician “at the moment, we’re not having a lot of luck with it.” Megan explained.

“Yeah, I’ve always thought that we missed something in the development of the software” Charlie informed “so I’m going to take another crack at it. What do you say?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Megan murmured. She handed over a stack of papers she’d been holding “thanks Charlie” she then headed over to the car to give it a look as I craned my neck over my Uncle’s shoulder.

He quickly shifted the papers away from me “oh come on Uncle C I’m just looking” I complained

“Maybe but with you Just looking normally turns to just tinkering and then just tinkering becomes just helping and just helping turns into Don mad at me” Charlie grumbled.

“Hey well it’s not like he can ground you” I muttered.

_________________

I finally finished setting up my new laptop with a happy sigh leaning back on the couch. Gramps had bought me it for a late birthday present. He’d figured I’d need one for school now that I was in college. It definitely helped. The reason it was late was because he had to get Amita’s advice on which was the best. I was very happy with the choice.

I was jogged from my thoughts by a knock on the door. I closed my laptop and got up. Charlie and Gramps were both in the garage right now so it was up to me to get the door. I opened it and was somewhat surprised to see a man standing there in a suit with short dirty blonde hair.

He looked equally as surprised to see I’d answered the door “uh, is this the Eppes house?” he asked.

“Yeah” I replied hesitantly “who are you?”

“Uh,” he reached in his pocket and pulled out his wallet. “Agent Colby Granger I work with Don he sent me over to check on Charlie’s work see if he’s got anything”

“Oh okay” I murmured, getting a good look at the badge before allowing him in. “Him and Gramps are in the garage. I’ll show you” I closed the door behind us and started leading him through the house.

“So, uh, who are you again?” Granger inquired.

“I’m Abby. Don’s daughter” I informed him.

“Don has a kid?” Granger muttered in shock as we exited the back door.

“Obviously” I replied. Showing him into the garage. “Uncle C we got a visitor” I announced, leading Agent Granger into the garage.

“Charlie, hey” Granger greeted my Uncle with a smile and handshake then turned to Gramps “Mr. Eppes, nice to see you.”

“Well hey” Alan exclaimed in greeting.

“So Don sent me down here to check and see how the handwriting analysis was going,” Granger informed.

“I was just telling my father that we failed to have the FISH program take into account that the shape of an individual letter varies depending on where it’s place in a word” Charlie explained “you write and ‘O’ different;y is there’s an ‘S’ placed in front of it Accounting for that, I found some interesting things out about these letters that we didn’t expect” Charlie lead the agent over to one of his chalkboards as I cleared a little space and hopped up to sit cross legged on the desk in the center of the room next to my grandfather.

“All right, what was that?” Granger asked.

“Hey, look at this” Gramps spoke up before the agent could get his answer “this letter was an original” he pulled a pink piece of paper from a stack on the desk “Hey, Charlie, they let you handle actual evidence?”

“Give that to me” Charlie snapped quickly.

“Wait, there shouldn’t be originals,” Granger objected, “you should only have copies.”

“Actually, that’s not one of Skylar Wyatt’s letters,” Charlie explained.

“Yeah, I know. It’s addressed to you” Alan said.

“Then why did you ask if it was evidence?” I inquired but went ignored.

“Is that lavender I smell?” Gramps asked, sniffing the card.

“Yes, lavender” Charlie muttered uncomfortably, plucking the card from his father’s hands.

“Nice, Charlie” Granger chuckled then his phone rang. “I got to take this, I'll be right back” the agent shuffled out of the room.

“So who’s it from?” Alan inquired.

“I hope not anybody I know” I muttered. Then thought about it for a minute “unless it’s Amita”

“Who the hell knows?” Charlie exclaimed exasperatedly “it’s not signed.”

“Not signed?” Alan questioned “since when does a college professor receive anonymous fan letters?”

“You kidding?” Charlie asked, seeming a little surprised at the question “Richard Feynman was a stud. He got marriage proposals by the dozen. Einstein was a true sex symbol.”

“Charlie, don’t you think that’s from Amita?” Alan inquired.

“That’s what I want to know,” I declared.

“Actually, um, no” Charlie admitted “because I already compared it to her writing”

“Oh” me and Alan both exclaimed in annoyance.

“So the old FISH system is inefficient” Grange spoke up, getting off his phone “but it kicked out a name, Lawrence Pike. His handwriting matches the stalker’s”

“Okay, that’s all good but-”

“But the problem is this guy’s been in jail in Utah for the last three months” Granger cut Charlie off “so he can’t be the stalker”

“Which is exactly what I was about to tell you” Charlie explained “the same person did not write all of these letters” he walked around the desk again leading Granger back to the chalkboard they’d started at “my analysis say there’s a first writer and a copycat”

_________________________

“I can’t retrofit a 1931 car with seat belts,” Larry objected.

“Why not?” Alan asked.

“Because it’s not authentic to the period,” Larry explained as we walked through the school campus.

“What I meant was, it’s authentic to this period” Alan pointed out.

“It’s totally physics Larry” Charlie stated “I mean, without a seat belt, you could get hurt even in a minor accident”

“Car accidents shouldn’t be taken lightly” I declared, trying to keep my voice light.

“Abby is right” Alan agreed placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder “you could get badly hurt”

“Look, if I'm in an accident in that car, I hope I don’t survive,” Larry declared.

“Well isn’t that a bit dramatic” I scoffed. Swallowing the small lump in my throat and infringing memories.

“Look, it’s a love affair, me and that car” the physicist explained “with affairs of the heart you know, sometimes common sense gets thrown out the window.”

“Yeah, or through the windshield” Alan muttered. I shifted uncomfortably and he shot me a concerned look.

“Hey, speaking of affairs of the heart,” Larry redirected the conversation thankfully onto Charlie “did you ever find out who sent you that anonymous note?”

“Oh, yeah, I was wondering about that.” Gramps agreed.

“Student or teacher?” I asked curiously.

“No, not yet,” Charlie muttered.

“I think we should run a handwriting analysis against the school’s records office,” Larry suggested.

“You know what? I’ve decided I don’t need to know” Uncle C declared.

“Oh, yes, you do,” Alan objected.

“Whoever it was they chose not to sign it,” Charlie explained “maybe because they’re just not ready to tell me.”

“Well, I think that’s very wise” Larry murmured “let your life retain some mystery”

“Yeah, or the poor student forgot their name and thinks you're ignoring them now” I muttered pessimistically which earned me a look from my uncle.

“Yeah. Besides, you haven’t figured out what to do with the girl you already know about” Alan pointed out. We all nodded before continuing our walk down the path.

Chapter 17 ->

jk rowling may not have caused transmisogyny in the uk, but by being a high-profile figure who actively supports transmisogyny and funnels money into transmisogynistic groups she is a huge influence in keeping it both alive and, more dangerously, seen as a legitimate viewpoint and ‘acceptable’ in the eyes of the media. it is dangerous to ignore this and to ignore her significant influence

This really helped my mental health more than I can say

Self Care Tips From Tumblr: When you feel like everyone hates you, sleep. When you feel like you hate everyone, eat. When you feel like you hate yourself, shower. Someone out there feels better because you exist. 

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