figured out a way you can search for posts that are tagged TWO things on a blog!!! feeling clever
for anyone else who didn’t know, this is the format!:
https://[blogURL].tumblr.com/search/%23[tag1]%2C%20%23[tag2]
remove the [brackets] when using it!
mods are asleep, share hacks that make the site usable against its will
To illustrate this post by @mayahawkse I would like to visualize to you the difference:
A post in 2023:
A post in 2014:
A zoom out of the same post:
See how in 2023 almost all of the reblogs come from the OP, from their few hours/days in the tag search. Meanwhile in 2014 the % of reblogs from OP is insignificant, because most of the reblogs come from the reblogs within the fandom, within the micro-communities formed there. You didn't need to rely on tags, or search, or being featured. Because the community took care of you, made sure to pass the work between themselves and onto their blog and exposed their followers to it. It kept works alive for years.
It's not JUST the reblog/like ratio that causing this issue, it's the type of interaction people have. They're content with scrolling and liking the search engine, instead of actually having a reblogging relationship with other blogs in their community.
Anyways, if you want to see more content you like, the only true way to make it happen is to reblog it. Likes do not forward content in no way but making OP feel nice. Reblogs on the other hand make content eternal. They make it relevant, they make it exist outside of a fickle tumblr search that hardly works on the best of days.
If you want more of something, reblog it.
Something I see mentioned often is "I don't have many followers, my reblog won't matter" which is untrue.
First of all, reblogging, commenting and interacting is how you start gathering your own micro community, second of all— you literally do not know how far a single reblog from you could go in the long run.
For instance, let's say you only have one person reblog from you, and that person only have one person who reblogged from them also, and so on, and somewhere ten reblogs down the line a very large blog reblogs it and boom, the post is getting more and more exposure!
You see, it does not matter if you don't have a large following so long as you cultivate a micro community with the people you do enjoy interacting daily with.
As you can see in the second picture I added, most of the reblogs were between very small groups of people, and occasionally it'll lapse into a large blog that would create a bigger reblog pool. BUT STILL. Saying that you don't have many followers and so it doesn't matter if you don't reblog is UNTRUE.
Even if someone just randomly wanders into your blog one day, it's beneficial for both sides because A. Seeing you reblog content they like might be enough for them to follow you B. They would be exposed to new content creators they didn't know previously and might also follow / reblog from them!
So yes, do not underestimate what your reblogs and words mean, just because you're not 'big' or whatever. It is not how tumblr works!!
P.S IT IS NOT CRINGE TO REBLOG 10 YEARS OLD CONTENT ON TUMBLR. YOU SEE IT. YOU LIKE IT? REBLOG IT. DOESN'T MATTER IF YOU DIG IT FROM THE DEPTHS OF HELL ITSELF. XOXO :'D <3
okay, I finished Last Chance to See by Douglas Adams earlier today! I did say in the post a few hours ago I only had about 40 pages left. I also reread about another 80 or so pages that I read last year just to refresh my memory. So, I'm now going to do the (potentially) depressing task of listing out the endangered species features in this book, and seeing if any are still alive. I don't know yet how depressing or exciting this post might be.
Madagascar
This part of the book is from a trip in 1985, where they went to try and find the aye-aye lemur. I am pleased to report that the aye-aye is still alive, although still endangered. Woo-hoo! The aye-aye is the world's largest nocturnal primate, and is so unique it has no taxomic family (no related species.) They are considered evil, or harbingers of death, in folk belief, so they face danger from being hunted and killed.
Indonesia
In this chapter, they travel to the island of Komodo to look at the Komodo dragons. Komodo dragons, thankfully, are still alive, but still endangered due to the fragility of their habitat. They're at risk of volcanoes, earthquakes, habitat loss, fire, tourism, loss of prey from poaching, and illegal poachnig in general. Climate chane and sea level rise also threaten their habitat. There are 1,380 mature individuals left in the wild and 3,400 total.
Democratic Republic of Congo (Zaïre at the time of the book's publishing)
In this chapter, they end up seeing two animals. They traveled to the country to see the northern white rhinocerous, but also ended up seeing mountain gorillas too because, as Adams says, "It is very hard to go all the way to Zaïre and not see them." Mountain gorillas, although listed as endangered, are still around. The World Wildlife Fund lists their population as just over 1,000 individuals. The specific area that Adams and Carwardine visit in the book, Virunga National Park, has seen an increase in population. When they visited in the late 80s, there was a population of 320, but as of 2010 there were 480.
Here's where my post actually gets sad. The animal that Adams and Carwardine actually planned to visit in the DRC was the northern white rhinocerous. In 1988 at the time of the trip (or perhaps 1990 at the publishing of the book), there were 22 individuals left in the wild, all in Garamba National Park. Twenty two. Douglas Adams writes about the sad state of their population, and compares it to the success of the subspecies the southern white rhino. He ends that section of the book with the sentence: "The point is, we are not too late to save the northern white rhinocerous from exctinction."
Feeling very energized after reading this, I had set down my book and pulled out my smartphone to google the northern white rhinocerous. The bad news is, the northern white rhino is functionally extinct in 2023. There are only two left in the entire world, and both are female, mother and daughter. Garamba National Park has suffered years of turmoil from politcal unrest, wars, insurgents, and poachers. In 2008, there were no northern white rhinos left in the wild and only 8 left in captivity.
There's some tentatively good news. Before the last male died in 2018, his sperm was collected. The remaining two living females cannot carry babies anymore, but the daughter's eggs were gathered. There's a team of scientists trying IVF, and since 2019 they've managed to get 24 embryos from one female and two males. They're planning on using another southern white rhino as a surrogate. Will this save the species? Who knows. Any babies that result will have to be inbred--either siblings or half-siblings. No genetic diversity remains in the subspecies. But it is interesting to me since this sort of thing used to not be possible at all for endangered species.
New Zealand
The first birds mentioned in this chapter is the Kea, which is also endangered, but this chapter isn't really about them. It's about the Kakapo. The Kakapo are probably my favorite animal described in this book, because they seem so silly. It's a wonder they never managed to go extinct at any point in history. I love them. Fortunately, there's good news for Kakapo: they're doing better!
Actually, I saw a tweet about them literally earlier today:
ALTThey're still considered critically endangered, but this is good news. As of 2023 there are 248, which is a significant increase in the ~70 that existed when the book was written. Yay, kākāpō! They're very cute.
China
Here is where the post gets sad again. In this chapter, Adams and Carwardine visit the Yangtze in search of the baiji river dolphin. It has been 21 years since the last confirmed sighting of the baiji, and 17 years since they were considered extinct after no trace of them could be found. I find this particularly sad, because part of the chapter in this book has Adams and Carwardine visiting with the Tongling Baiji Conservation Committee, and their construction of a nature reserve on the river. The end of the chapter seems hopeful based on this hard work, so I also feel quite sad for all these people in 1989 who cared so much and were still unable to save these animals :(
Mauritius
This is the final chapter of the book, and covers quite a few animals. The original intention was for them to be looking for the Rodrigues fruit bat. These bats are endangered, but with increasing population. By the time of the book's publishing in 1990, the population had just passed the 1,000 mark. The Philadelphia Zoo website says with breeding programs, there are now 20,000 left in the wild.
Another species mentioned is the Mauritius Kestrel. In 1974, there were only 4 individuals left. Now, thanks to breeding programs, there are about 400 left in the wild as of 10 years ago. That's amazing, but it is a bit worrying still--in 2005, there were 800 in the wild. So there was a wildly successful reintroduction and now the population is dipping again. But if they survived it once, I think we can help them survive it again.
Another bird mentioned is the pink pigeon. As of the publishing of the book in 1990, there were less than 10 in the wild. Now, thanks to conservation efforts, there are approximately 480. They've suffered some loss of genetic diversity, though.
Finally, the echo parakeet is mentioned. As of the time of the book's publishing, there were less than 15 remaining in the wild. I am happy to say that as of 2020 there are more than 800 birds left in the wild, and their status has been moved from endangered to just vulnerable--a step up!
That brings me to the end of my tumblr book report. I was actually mildly surprised and happy to see that only two of the species mentioned in the book are extinct/functionally extinct, and that the others were saved from the brink. I seriously thought while googling some of the birds at the end that they would be gone, but fortunately they're still around.
Goodnight! I spent way too long writing this!
“My lord, I know you are the demon lord and I am but a lowly advisor, but please listen to me. I suggest that instead of sending the hero slightly stronger demons to kill each time, we just send the strongest one right away”
“Do you know why the heroes fight us, advisor?”
“Because…. because we threaten their homeland, my lord?”
“And why do we threaten their homeland?”
“Because Kushiel rules it and she exiled you?”
“Close. Because Kushiel rules it and she must be stopped. But we cannot stop her.”
“I’m… not sure I follow, my liege.”
“I am not surprised. This war started long before you were born, did it not?”
“Yes, my lord, at least a dozen centuries before.”
“And I was at least a dozen centuries old when this war began. We sent our strongest soldiers, our mightiest armies. And Kushiel sent children.”
“Children…? Then… how did we not win?”
“Would you like to fight an army of children? See the light that should have burned a century be snuffed out after barely a decade?”
“Well… not particularly, no.”
“Nor did we, and Kushiel knew this. She gives them no training for she knows the worse off they are the worse it will be for us to face them. This went on for several centuries. She fills her people’s heads with stories, false prophecies about how a child will someday defeat the tyrannical ruler who threatens them. And so, we are helping that prophecy become true.”
“Wait, what?”
“We cannot hope to defeat Kushiel. We do not know her with any intimacy. We cannot predict her movements. All we know is she will keep sending children. So we train them. We send out weakest soldiers, those willing to die knowing their sacrifice will eventually be her undoing. Someday, a hero will come who is able to defeat us. A hero who will slaughter our weakest, then our next weakest, and will continue to do so until even I lay dead at their feet. And then the hero will come here and sit in my throne and peer from my grand window. Sit. Tell me what they will see.”
“It…. It’s a graveyard, sir.”
“Those are the graves of all the children Kushiel has sent to die at our hands. Some became adults before they finally fell, but they were always children when they started. We bury them here. And someday a hero will come who will free us from this grievous task. They will take my throne, sit upon it, and see what Kushiel deemed a worthy price for this mere chair. And then the hero will realize who they must fight next. And thanks to us, they will have gained the strength and training necessary to make sure the prophecy is fulfilled and the tyrant will finally die.”
One night, you decide to put your phone under your pillow. When you wake up in the morning, your phone is replaced by cash totaling what you paid for your phone. Turns out the tooth fairy takes more than just teeth.
You regret the loss of your phone, of course, but the tooth fairy gave you brand new market price and so you bought a new one with the cash and pocketed the rest.
You experiment. Sticking items under your pillow is better than the hassle of Facebook marketplace.
She doesn’t take the plastic plate set you’ve tried to sell for weeks, but she takes a gold rimmed china saucer from your Grandma’s old set. You get brand new market value for it - from 1946 when it had been bought.
She ignores jeans and books, but trades for spoons and costume jewelry. The tooth fairy, you realize, is a bit of a magpie. If it’s a little bit shiny, she’ll give you cash.
You clear out the jewelry table at a garage sale, place them one by one under your pillow. The amount you get varies, but still is brand new market value of when the item was originally bought. Nothing more than $50, but that’s better than the $8 you bought it for.
After a few weeks, something changes. Your bank account isn’t as empty, your pillow is thicker. You take a nap, because sleeping on items isn’t the most comfortable. You wake up to a crinkle, a note next to your nose.
The writing is tiny, you need your phone’s magnifier to read it, but it turns out just as you’ve been using the tooth fairy, she wants to use you. She’s dropped off a list of wants; hints at a finder fee in cash or precious metals.
It’s specific, odd stuff. A clean dollar coin. A chandelier crystal. A reversible sequin pillow. Antique holiday ornaments. Photo hooks. All, you think, easy to get.
You sign her contract with a purple sparkly gel pen and offer it as a freebie.
EDIT: This story and some of my other fae-inspired fantasy ones now have their own anthology! Check out Fae Deals.
For Sas, another story about helping.
#
There is a statue on the cliffs overlooking the harbour, of a man shading his eyes with one hand and looking out over the sea.
They say that when invaders came, a man went up to the cliffs, and prayed to the gods. He offered them his own life to save his people. The gods accepted his sacrifice, and a great fire burned across the water, sinking all the ships. The man became stone, and ever since then he has stood on the cliffs, looking out at ships that sank long ago.
There is a statue that stands in the center of the town, of an old woman with both hands held up before her, palm out.
They say that when invaders came again, a woman stood in the middle of the square, and ordered them to halt. She reminded them of the great fire that sank the ships years before, and called on the gods to strike down any man who took one more step, though it cost her life. The gods accepted her sacrifice, and the invaders who stepped forward became water, running back down the hill towards the sea and soaking the boots of the men behind them. The survivors fled in fear, and the woman became stone, her feet set among the cobbles, her hands raised to stop invaders long gone.
There is a statue that stands by the road that runs past our village, of a young woman holding a basket.
They say that when brigands came upon the village in the teeth of a hard winter, starving and desperate, a woman saw them coming and offered them the food in her basket. They mocked her, saying that so little would not feed them for a day. She, too, called on the gods, and she, too, was answered. She made a bargain with their leader, that every man would turn back when he had all the food he could carry. From that one basket, she filled every bandit’s hands and sacks with food until he could carry no more. When she had filled even the leader’s hands, she bowed her head and became stone, her basket empty at last. The bandits kept to their bargain, and never troubled the village again.
We all know these stories. We all know why those people became stone, stone that does not weather.
Summary: You don’t ever want to be the main character. In your town, that’s deadly. Someone has to warn the new kid.
——–.
Someone has got to tell the new kid in town the Rules.
“Hey,” you say.
The new kid looks up at you. He’s sitting at his desk in the back corner of the classroom, right next to the windows. It’s a chilly day, but he’s got the window open so that the breeze ruffles his curly, black hair. “What’s up? Fern, right?”
“Don’t call me by my name,” you snarl. Then, realizing what you’ve done, you look over your shoulder. The other teenagers are still looped around the teacher’s desk, trying to get Ms. Slauson to move the test date so they could organize a welcome part for the new kid. “I need to talk to you. Privately.”
The new kid leans back in his chair and studies you. You know what he sees – a completely average high school girl in jeans, a sweatshirt, and a ponytail. There’s nothing remarkable about you. He tilts his head. “You don’t look like a bully.”
You frown. “I’m not.”
“You’re being awfully threatening,” he says in a drawl.
The accent is going to be a problem. It’s southern and sounds really cool. Honestly, it might be too late for him already.
But you still have to try.
“Meet me on the rooftop—no!” You press the heel of one hand against your eye. Fight it, you tell yourself. Fight it! “Meet me at the supermarket on Western Street. The dairy aisle. After school.”
“Okay…?”
You spin on your heel, head throbbing. Meeting on the rooftop is against the rules. You glance up at the ceiling uneasily. You’re not usually affected by the compulsion so badly. Are you being targeted?
If you were smart, you wouldn’t show up to the meeting. You’d just let the guy get sucked into the madness on his own.
But you also really need to buy some milk.
You, the queen of a fairy tale kingdom, got cursed to give birth to a princess who’s going to live her life isolated in a tower the first 20 years of her life. Narrate how you avoid your daughter’s fate.
She laughed, when she placed the curse on me. Laughed and laughed. She called me a fool for coming to her, for wanting children who would sap my strength and steal my power.
One child to take my kingdom, she promised me. Well, I’d wanted an heir. It didn’t have to be a curse.
One child the sea would steal. There was room in that. They didn’t have to die, only to love the sea. I would buy the finest ships.
And the third would suffer my grandmother’s fate.
The tower.
Grandmother told me stories about that tower, shuddering. About the isolation almost driving her mad. About the desperate longing for escape. I know what that escape cost her, and my grandfather as well, with his scarred face and limping gait.
That was going to be difficult.
The sorceress’s curse worked. Within the year, I held my first babe in my arms, a sturdy boy who kicked and cried and cuddled against his mother as if he hadn’t been made only to bring me grief. Well, all mothers grieve.
You have been sentenced to death in a magical court. The court allows all prisoners to pick how they die and they will carry it out immediately. You have it all figured out until the prisoner before you picks old age and is instantly transformed into a dying old man. Your turn approaches.
I think I’d have minded less if I’d committed a truly heinous crime. Something that warranted death. Or even if I was the kind of person who would enjoy flinging a last defiance at my execution.
It was all just a show, anyway. They did it every year. They brought out a selection of criminals, and the Sorcerer who ruled us showed his power by bringing about their deaths by magic. Just to show, every year, what happened to anyone who crossed him.
There was a time, probably, when the people he executed really were rebels or assassins. In latter days he had to take what the dungeons offered. I was dragged up in chains between a pickpocket, sobbing in terror, and a man who’d killed another man in a brawl. There were few criminals of any note, by then. So instead of choosing the wickedest criminals, they chose based on appearance. The man who’d been in the brawl had a face like a clenched fist, and looked like a ruffian. The pickpocket, aging and with hands beginning to tremble, was a different kind of example. As was I.
“There aren’t many pretty ones, this year,” the man who chose me had said, examining me. “But this one will do. Not young, but not old, a woman, well-favoured enough for the gallows… what was her crime?”
The warder shrugged. “She tried to kill one of the sheriffs.”
The man looked down at me and I shrugged. “I hit him with a washing stick, because he tried to extort money from me, and he was a baby about it.” I refused to treat this as anything but pathetic, even after my sentencing. “I didn’t even break any bones.”
“Treason, then,” the man said, nodding. “Attacking the servants of the law. That will look well on the list. Send her.”
I had been debating ever since what to choose. Something quick? Something painless? I considered demanding that I suffer the attack I supposedly made on the sheriff, but then I realized the Sorcerer would only give me what the man had said I was going to do, and that was not a pleasant way to die. I had all but decided on something swift and relatively painless. Beheading with the sharpest of blades sounded good. It would be quick.
ALTin italy, lesbian parents are being removed from their child’s birth certificate in favor of the ‘biological parent’, regardless if that person ever had a role in raising the child. welsh has been doing this as well. it feels like we’re going back decades.
