A lot of Linkâs adventures begin with him sleeping. Which might explain why Zelda is leaving beds all over Hyrule.
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@mechanicalhuman
A lot of Linkâs adventures begin with him sleeping. Which might explain why Zelda is leaving beds all over Hyrule.

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No, Princess Zelda does not have "girl power".
Princess Zelda has girl wisdom.
Ganon has girl power.
Metahaven, Large Language Model (IV), 2023, jacquard weaving and cast resin superstructure. Installation view at Tick Tack, Antwerp, Fall 2023

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Follow, follow the Sun / And which way the wind blows / When this day is done âŁđś ⣠Today, April 8, 2024, the last total solar eclipse until 2045 crossed North America.âŁ
Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!
we are already living in the cyberpunk future and i know this because within a span of 3 days we went from this tweet:
to thousands of people making phony images and replying to them with their passionate desire to have them as a tshirt to overload the bots with nonsense and junk and send out warnings to shoppers like this:
and now we even have people replying to pictures of baby yoda with âi want this on a tshirtâ knowing how ravenous disney is being with copyright in hopes to get the stores taken down altogether
i dont know what it is about stuff like this and the whole turn mei into a symbol of hk protesters thing but, its really reassuring for some reason
If Cthulhu can be summoned by humans who are so far beneath it, why canât humans be summoned by ants? The answer is they should be.
Well if a bunch of ants formed a circle in my house Iâd certainly notice, try to figure out where theyâd all come from, and possibly wreak destruction there.
Thatâs why knowing and correctly pronouncing the true name is so important to the ritual. Imagine how impossible it would be to not go take a look if the circle of ants started chanting your name. And theyâre like, you canât leave because we drew a line made of tiny crystals - now you have to do us a favor. And youâre like, letâs just see where this goes âyup, you got me⌠whatâs the favor?â and usually the favor is like, âkill this one ant for usâ or âgive me a pile of sugarâ and youâre like⌠okay? and you do, because why not, it isnât hard for you and boy is this going to be a fucking story to tell, these fucking ants chanting your name and wanting a spoonful of sugar or whatever. And SOMEtimes you get asked for things you canât really do, one of them, sheâs like, âI love this ant but she wonât pay any attention to me, make me important to herâ and youâre like⌠um? how? So you just kill every ant in the colony except the two of them, ta-da! problem solved! and the first ant is like *horrified whisper* âwhat have I doneâ
for some reason my brain wonât let go of this one, soâŚ. Meanwhile another colony of ants invades your house, and evidently that last ant has gotten some of them to join her in a circle and taught them the ritual because youâre coming out of the bathroom one day and you hear the ants singing your name. Sure enough itâs that ant, but sheâs dark and fucked up now, and sheâs like, âkill the queen. I will rule this colonyâ and youâre like, sure, I guess I kinda owe her, and you do it. And she manages to become queen, and they worship you. Which is cool, youâre not, you know, very important in the human world, but to these ants youâre practically all-powerful. You canât be just, doing everything a bunch of ants tell you to, though, when would you watch netflx? So you tend to only show up for super important ants; you teach them some extra words and when hear them you go see whatâs up. Usually. Also just to your name, if youâre bored. And, sometimes some of the ants are like, tell us more human names, and youâre kind of jealous of the idea of some other human diluting your private godhood, so you refuse. Your roommate Greg is like, yo, thatâs fucking awesome, I want ant worshipers! But whenever he approaches any, they run away, because it turns out that the illusion of control from the named summoning is what makes them feel safe around you. Thatâs great, because Greg is a dick who never does the dishes, and one day you decide to teach Greg a lesson. So you show up at the colony, and youâre like, âyo, witch queen, did you think there would be no price for all these things? Your colony must do something for me, go to the Room of the Housemate, I will meet you there.â And you go sit on the couch and play Overwatch for a while. Youâre like, right there, you can clearly see the ants all marching along the wall to Gregâs room, but to them youâre not even there, youâre so far away they canât see you. It takes them, like, an ant week to make the journey. They have to figure out ways to get over and around things. Some of them drown, or get stepped on by the dog, or whatever. You win a game, you lose a game, you look over, and theyâre trying to get through some cobwebs⌠looks like theyâre mostly going to live, you keep playing, you look over, okay theyâre all in there, and you stand up and walk over and by the time theyâve chanted your name once, youâre there. âright, hold onâ and you look around and you see a twelve-pack of Gregâs precious fucking soda, that he keeps in his room and refuses to ever share, even though itâs a communal food household and you share your hot chocolate with him all the time. So you gather the ants unto you, and you poke a little hole in each of the sodas and you leave the room to the sound of the ants rejoicing. Greg will suspect of course, but heâll never be able to prove the ants didnât chew holes in the plastic and steal his stupid drinks. But later, while youâre at work, Greg destroys most of the colony in a rage, and you come home to find the witch queen gasping her last âthe Dew of the Mountain, which you had us steal, was cursed - and so I lay my curse on youâ and then she dies. Well first of all, you donât really believe in curses, but last month you didnât believe ants could know your name, so thatâs unsettling. And second of all, you feel kind of bad. You know, not SUPER bad, cause sheâs like, an ant. But still. And most importantly, third of all, Greg must pay. But Greg has done more than kill a bunch of the colony. As you wait for eggs and pupae to replenish the ant population, you discover he has found some ants that didnât go on the Mountain Dew raid, and heâs spared them, told them his name, and made himself a good sized cult in YOUR fucking ant queendom. Greg has started locking his door. So now you NEED the ants. Once again you direct the ants loyal to you to journey to Gregâs room. You meet them at the door. A locked door means nothing to the ants, they donât even know there is a door, and can barely perceive the difference between it being open and shut - either passing the threshold on the floor regardless, or being on its surface no matter the position. But you need them to get inside. Youâre going to put itching powder in his underwear drawer and leave a raw fish under his bed. So you instruct the leading party of ants how to go into the Cave of Keyhole, and position the Magic Megaliths inside just right to enable the opening of the Great Door and allow you to pass into the Realm of Housemate. Crouched by the door, you can hear when your ants are met by a party of Greg Cultists, who insist that if the Great Door is opened, the colony will be doomed. There is fighting. Your ants prevail, the lock tumblers are moved into place, and you swing the door open⌠To find Greg! In his room all along! Itâs a trap! His cultists attack you! I mean, they canât do much real harm, but it kind of hurts and itâs super annoying. You order your ants to attack him, and they do, but he storms over and pours bleach down the colony entrance. Now you and Greg are at war, and you both understand the unspoken rules to your fight. You canât do things directly to each other, why, that would be assault. But anything you can get your ants to do is fine, because âshe told the ants to do it to meâ isnât going to get very far with any authority figures that get involved. Later, nursing your anger, you confer with your few remaining ants and stare moodily at your new prize, the ant farm that came in the mail. Bullet ants donât usually get along with sugar ants, but youâre betting they will if a god tells them to. Meanwhile, youâve got a laptop schematic to go over with your high priestess. Itâs finals week, and if you time it right, heâll lose everythingâŚ
Feel free to add your own stories paralleling human/otherworldly with insect/human interactions! Iâm going to have this repost a few times because I want to see which of my mutuals are into this kind of thing because Iâm preparing to test drive a fiction share and writing prompt project
The Idea of the old gods obeying us not because of supernatural reason, but because they think itâs funny to watch the tiny animals fight IS the answer to everything
@zuzu-and-friends, @bogleech, @tyrantisterror
âHuman baffled at a bunch of ants inexplicably calling it by nameâ is a better characterization for an eldritch abomination than 99% of eldritch abominations in fiction.

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Dividing up eras of tumblr
It just occurred to me that I kind of arbitrarily started referring to âfirst ageâ âsecond ageâ and âthird ageâ tumblr one day because I realized during a discord conversation that it really can be divided up very effectively between a couple major events that changed the fabric of the siteâs culture almost overnight, but nobody but me ever refers to them that way, so by way of explanation:
First Age: everything before Dashcon. Art communities were still largely thriving on the internet and social media still mostly existed out from under corporate monopolies, and people were just wildly guessing about how to use it. We were in the last hurrah of the internet wild west and lolcats were still a thing. Tumblr was just a fun and quirky place, we were blissfully writing unironic posts about tumblr university and fandom vs hipster and the âI like your shoelacesâ thing, Hank Green wrote a goddamn song about tumblr, we were all like Adam and Eve dwelling in Eden unaware of their sin. Potterheads grab your wands.
Second Age: post-Dashcon, but pre-Purge. We have all eaten the fruit of knowledge and there is no going back. There are no more secret code or tumblr university posts because everyone knows firsthand how badly that would go. Fandom culture is forever changed. We are now aware that we live in a hellish cringetopia but have absolutely no plans to leave, because by now a combination of monopolies and a sneaky rise in purity culture has the internet by the throat (but not in a kinky way, that would scare off advertisers) so there arenât a lot of better options, and at least our relatives canât find us here. A lot of artists now have their primary presence on tumblr. The lax policies regarding nsfw and controversial content mean itâs a good space for queer creators and sex workers despite the many shortcomings weâre now aware of. The porn bot plague really kicks into full gear to the point that every time our follower counts go up weâre ready with the block/spam button like the uncles from Secondhand Lions picking off traveling salesmen. The drama starts to get really fucking weird, with classics such as the human pet guy and the bone-stealing witch.
Third Age: post-Purge. After changing corporate hands a few times, the drive to make the internet safe for our Good Christian Advertisers and hypothetical children has finally reached us, and brings with it TERFs, purity culture, and the Porn Ban, which was allegedly a solution to the porn bots except that it clearly wasnât at all. The large community of sex workers and artists that was keeping tumblr afloat as anything resembling a viable social media site have made a mass exodus and a lot of the rest of the userbase followed them, mostly to twitter or a few doomed attempts at tumblr copycats. Tumblr is now a mad max clown car full of people too stubborn to pack up and leave for a functional website. Itâs a post-apocalyptic wasteland whose only remaining merit is that even without the ability to post porn weâve managed to make ourselves such a complete anathema to advertisers that weâre mostly just left alone. Weâre all just tired. Some people still run art blogs but nobody outside of tumblr ever sees them. Literally all we have going for us is that weâre not twitter and we have +5 resistance to capitalism. And Xkit.
Tag yourself. At which era did you enter this hellsite?
Second age
Third Age
First?

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yâall are fucking sensitive now a days