Okay, real advice for newcomers who to participate in the Tumblr social sphere?
Any time one of your posts begins to get even a tiny bit of traction, go through the notes and reblog the most entertaining response.
Don’t feel the need to remark on it; you can build on it if it’s the sort of thing that invites a back-and-forth exchange, but otherwise let it stand.
The key to meeting people and making friends on this site is the willingness to let other people be funnier than you on your own post.
You make my heart dropspin
I'll let you in my toaster
I'll strip for you
Are you a drum major? Cause I've been watching you all day.
I'll guard you with all my heart
Do you want to see me dance with my pole?
Trust me, I can barely remember what I had for breakfast this morning, must less what age I was my freshman year of high school
did you know there are bisexual flowers and they’re perfect
piccolo
who wins: them
don’t do it. don’t fight the piccolo player. just don’t.
flute
who wins: them
they were told you were challenging them for first chair. run while you still can.
clarinet
who wins: them
threaten you with their register key. forfeit for the sake of all.
saxophone
who wins: them
you are promptly deemed a “nerd” and stuffed in a band locker by the entire section even though you only wanted to fight one of them.
low reeds
who wins: no one
you yell increasingly bad sexual innuendos at each other across the band room for twenty minutes until you both get tired and go home.
mellophone
who wins: them
punches you in the face repeatedly on the offbeats of a sousa march playing in the background.
trumpet
who wins: you and then them
you win the fight easily while they’re giving their villainous monologue. entire trumpet section later jumps you in a dark hallway for disgracing one of their own.
trombone
who wins: no one
they get distracted halfway through the fight and wander off.
low brass
who wins: them
you mock them by making farting noises with your lips. they punch you in the stomach with their abnormally strong arms. you can’t breath properly for days.
pit percussion
who wins: you
pretend like you can’t tell the vibes, marimba, and xylophone apart. wait until they’re blind with rage, then run them over with the closest wheeled pit equipment.
drumline
who wins: them
show up to the fight with a shank fashioned out of a broken drum stick. proceed to kick ass.
drum major
who wins: them
calls you to attention (you can’t disobey!) and then waits until you faint from exhaustion.
color guard
who wins: them
have you ever watched one of these fuckers on the field? you’re screwed.
band director
who wins: them
just when you think you’ve won, they get up smiling and say “one more time!”
Just saw someone ask what fanfiction.net is,,,,,some of you didn’t go through the hell of trying to connect your DSi to the internet at a family members house, just so you could read teen wolf fanfiction on that hell site in peace, and it shows.
I laughed so fucking hard at this
when hayao miyazaki said that true love was two people inspiring each other to live…recognizing just how hard living is, putting one foot in front of the other every day, how easy it is to lose our passion for it…… that’s the real shit
flutes/piccolos: asleep scattered across the floor of someone's bedroom wearing matching sweatpants.
clarinets: moodily playing pokémon
alto saxophones: all at walmart separately because they all think they're the ones responsible for treat bags and forgot until now. never see each other and each get like ten treat bags the next morning. confused but happy.
low reeds: finding more ways to hide dirty jokes on their section hoodies.
trumpets: practicing their "marching face" in the mirror to make it suitably focused and serious yet smoldering.
mellophones: trying to figure out how to attach a large sign to their instrument that says "it's a mellophone, not an exceptionally large trumpet." they are doomed to fail and the masses remain uneducated.
trombones: frantically trying to fix their instrument from attempting to pop to the box in their bedroom with the slide as far down as possible and slamming into the ceiling.
baritones/euphoniums: reflecting bitterly on all the times the tubas have upstaged them. vow to never let it happen again.
tubas/sousaphones: standing in front of a mirror trying to figure out precisely which angle at which to tip their beret to look the most roguish.
pit percussion: still loading their equipment on the band truck even though they started after school; one of them is missing for no reason.
drum line: performing a ritual sacrifice.
color guard: already doing their hair. still almost don't get done in time.
drum majors: practicing their salute 40,098 times, then making sure they don't "stand weird" while conducting.
The idea of Luke coming up with his impression of Din solely from what Grogu tells him before they meet again is hilarious to me because
Grogu, probably: my dad is so cool and smart and calm and good at fighting and a great pilot and
Din in real life:
Hello, I am 23 and I use she/her pronouns, I’m also a Virgo & ISFP and to top it off, I am a walking human disaster. Welcome!!
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