#Sorry I have the thoughts sometimes

[crypticpine]

All of this is very important, and I am glad people are pointing this out about homeschooling. But when I say I love homeschooling and if I have kids, would want to homeschool if possible, I am not talking about this type.

As prev said, the evangelical Christian homeschooling is a cult and I advise to stay away as much as you can. Pity the people part of it, but don't go out of your way to interact with them.

Now, this isn't to say I wasn't taught Christianity, I'm Catholic and was raised that way, but my mom was able to find textbooks and programs that would teach me what I needed to know, no matter if it was Christian or not (not Christian with math and science iirc), and had religion a seperate thing that would sometimes blend into other subjects (like English and History). I learned about evolution, and was taught that while it is controversial to say it was real, it doesn't disprove God exists because that could be how He made the world. I mention this as an example of a more well-rounded homechool education that with the resources we had, didn't rely solely on religious texts.

Now, that isn't to say I didn't have the issue mentioned by OP with the thinking I'm smarter than I actually am and having gaps in my knowledge. I don't know anything about politics and my math skills are not the best (though the math is because of dyslexia and all that). I could've read better books for my English, like the classics (though that's also dyslexia). College really did round out my education and helped me understand that I am not that smart tm. It gave me the knowledge my mom wasn't able to. It helped me socially by showing me so many different viewpoints and growing my empathy. I was also expected to go to college, something most homeschoolers aren't usually told to even consider as an option.

Bottom line is, there's absolutely a way to do homeschooling right and there are non-religious resources you can use. With how self paced and personal homeschooling is, where you can really focus on strengths and weaknesses, it sucks that it's used for oppression and cults.

[clarisse-doodles]

inspired by this post, in which Damian does not know what Vine is

[hinamie]

corvidae

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

some misc Barn & Wally doodles from the past week or so <3 i heart them

[im-still-watching-anime]

trucy: hang on polly you have a hair on you—oh, it’s long and…blonde. again.

apollo, internally: oh my god they’re all going to think i’m STRAIGHT and that i’m sleeping with a WOMAN

trucy, athena, and wright all thinking: oh that’s for sure klavier’s :/

[once-in-a-blood-moon]

Domestic Witchy Things You and Solomon Do Around Cocytus Hall

Sweeping bad/negative energy out of the Hall.

Hanging bells on the front door knob to cleanse the energy when either of you enter.

Keeping a jar of water on a windowsill overnight during a full moon to charge it and make moon water.

Having a shelf of different types of spiritual waters, such as - moon water, rose water, sun water, florida water, etc.

Using florida water when washing your clothes to energetically cleanse them.

Turning a broom upside down when there are unwanted guests in the Hall.

Having a few pieces of paper with the names of people who have done either of you wrong in the freezer.

Having a pitcher of wild violet lemonade in the fridge.

Candles on the coffee table, candles on the mantle, candles in the kitchen. Candles, candles, candles!

Keeping a large stash of birthday candles for quick candle magic :)

Painting the front door purple.

Bay leaves everywhere.

Sigils everywhere.

Spiritually cleansing anything new either of you bring into the Hall (clothes, trinkets, etc.)

Using rosemary to smudge and cleanse the Hall (Cocytus Hall always smells and feels nice because of this)

Having a deck of tarot cards on the coffee table that are almost never in the box.

Clapping at random times to sound cleanse a room that feels off.

Keeping a large shelf packed full of magic books, boxes holding herb/crystal chip vials, and other little (or big) trinkets.

Putting certain crystals (like black tourmaline) in the corner of every room.

Making your own black salt.

Hanging wind chimes outside.

Stirring your intentions into your coffee/tea each morning together.

[spaceistheplaceart]

found an old ekurei comic rotting in my files, decided to finish it. upon my rewatch of mp100 i kept noticing how many times dimple was referred to as a pet- but he's not ! ! ! he's a friend :)

[starry-bi-sky]

i need to get this out of my head before i continue clone^2 but danny being the first batkid. Like, standard procedure stuff: his parents and sister die, danny ends up with Vlad Masters. He drags him along to stereotypical galas and stuff; Danny is not having a good time.

He ends up going to one of the Wayne Galas being hosted ever since elusive Bruce Wayne has returned to Gotham. Vlad is crowing about having this opportunity as he's been wanting to sink his claws into the company for a long while now. Danny is too busy grieving to care what he wants.

And like most Galas, once Vlad is done showing him off to the other socialites and the like, he disappears. Off to a dark corner, or to one of the many balconies; doesn't matter. There he runs into said star of the show, Bruce who is still young, has been Batman for at least a year at this point, but still getting used to all these damn people and socializing. He's stepped off to hide for a few minutes before stepping back into the shark tank.

And he runs into a kid with circles under his eyes and a dull gleam in them. Familiar, like looking into a mirror.

Danny tries to excuse himself, he hasn't stopped crying since his parents died and it's been months. He rubs his eyes and stands up, and stumbles over a half-hearted apology to Mister Wayne. Some of Vlad's etiquette lessons kicking in.

Bruce is awkward, but he softens. "That's alright, lad," he says, pulling up some of that Brucie Wayne confidence, "I was just coming out here to get some fresh air."

There's a little pressing; Bruce asks who he's here with, Danny says, voice quiet and grief-stricken, that he's with his godfather Vlad Masters. Bruce asks him if he knows where he is, and Danny tells him he does. Bruce offers to leave, Danny tells him to do whatever he wants.

It ends with Bruce staying, standing off to the side with Danny in silence. Neither of them say a word, and Danny eventually leaves first in that same silence.

Bruce looks into Vlad Masters after everything is over, his interest piqued. He finds news about him taking in Danny Fenton: he looks into Danny Fenton. He finds news articles about his parents' deaths, their occupations, everything he can get his hands on.

At the next gala, he sees Danny again. And he looks the same as ever: quiet like a ghost, just as pale, and full of grief. Bruce sits in silence with him again for nearly ten minutes before he strikes a conversation.

"Do you like to do anything?"

Nothing. Just silence.

Bruce isn't quite sure what to do: comfort is not his forte, and Danny doesn't know him. He's smart enough to know that. So he starts talking about other things; anything he can think of that Brucie Wayne might say, that also wasn't inappropriate for a kid to hear.

Danny says nothing the entire time, and is again the first to leave.

Bruce watches from a distance as he intercts with Vlad Masters; how Vlad Masters interacts with him. He doesn't like what he sees: Vlad Masters keeps a hand on Danny's shoulder like one would hold onto the collar of a dog. He parades him around like a trophy he won.

And there are moments, when someone gets too close or when someone tries to shake Danny's hand, of deep possessiveness that flints over Vlad Masters' eyes. Like a dragon guarding a horde.

He plays the act of doting godfather well: but Bruce knows a liar when he sees one. Like recognizes like.

Danny is dull-eyed and blank faced the entire time; he looks miserable.

So Bruce tries to host more parties; if only so that he can talk to Danny alone. Vlad seems all too happy to attend, toting Danny along like a ribbon, and on the dot every hour, Danny slips away to somewhere to hide. Bruce appears twenty minutes later.

"I was looking into your godfather's company," he says one night, trying to think of more things to say. Some nights all they do is sit in silence. "Some of my shareholders were thinking of partnering up--"

"Don't."

He stops. Danny hardly says a word to him, he doesn't even look at him -- he's sitting on the ground, his head in his knees. Like he's trying to hide from the world. But he's looking, blue eyes piercing up at Bruce.

Bruce tilts his head, practiced puppy-like. "Pardon?"

"Don't." Danny says, strongly. "Don't make any deals with Vlad."

It's the most words Danny's spoken to him, and there's a look in his eyes like a candle finding its spark. Something hard. Bruce presses further, "And why is that?"

The spark flutters, and flushes out. Danny blinks like he's coming out of a trance, and slumps back into himself. "Just don't."

Bruce stares at him, thoughtful, before looking away. "Alright. I won't."

And they fall back into silence.

Danny, when he leaves, turns to look at Bruce, "I mean it." He says; soft like he's telling a secret, "Don't make any deals with him. Don't be alone with him. Don't work with him."

He's scampered away before Bruce can question him further.

(He never planned on working with Vlad Masters and his company; he's done his research. He's seen the misfortune. But nothing ever leads back to him. There's no evidence of anything. But Danny knows something.)

At their next meeting, Danny starts the conversation. It's new, and it's welcomed. He says, cutting through their five minute quiet, that he likes stars. And he doesn't like that he can't see them in Gotham.

Bruce hums in interest, and Danny continues talking. It's as if floodgates had been opened, and as Bruce takes a sip of his wine, it tastes like victory.

("Tucker told me once--") ("Tucker?") ("Oh-- uh, one of my best friends. He's a tech geek. We haven't talked in a while.")

(Danny shut down in his grief -- his friends are worried, but can't reach him. When he goes back to the manor with Vlad, he fishes out his phone and sends them a message.)

(They are ecstatic to hear from him.)

It all culminates until one day, when Danny is leaving to go back inside, that Bruce speaks up. "You know," He says, leaning against the railing. "The manor has many rooms; plenty of space for a guest."

The implication there, hidden between the lines. And Danny is smart, he looks at Bruce with a sharp glean in his eyes, and he nods. "Good to know."

The next time they see each other, Danny has something in his hands. "Can you hold onto something for me?" He asks.

When Bruce agrees, Danny places a pearl into his palm. or, at least, it's something that looks like a pearl. Because it's cold to the touch; sinking into Bruce's white silk gloves with ease and shimmering like an opal. It moves a little as it settles into his hand, and the moves like its full of liquid.

Bruce has never seen anything like it before, but he does know this; it's not human. "What is it?" He asks, and Danny looks uncomfortable.

"I can't tell you that." He says, shifting on his foot like he's scared of someone seeing it. "But please be careful with it. Treat it like it's extremely fragile."

When Bruce gets home, he puts it in an empty ring box and hides the box in the cave. He tries researching into what it is. he can't find anything concrete.

Everything comes to a head one day when Danny appears at the manor's doorstep one evening, soaking wet in the rain, and bleeding from the side.

[gailynovelry]

I don’t like getting intense over petty things, but why are people calling large paragraphs “bad formatting” now. It’s just formatting. Sometimes, a larger paragraph serves its text well, and sometimes it doesn’t, and there is a LOT more that goes into making a text block readable than length alone.

Please please please fucking please stop inventing all-encompassing arbitrary rules about what features define “good” art and “bad” art.

[crybaby-bkg]

Bakugou is willing to eat it in any position. You’ve learned this as time went on in your relationship, that no matter the place, time, or circumstance, he’d eat it anyway he could.

In some fancy bathroom at a hero gala, with you bent over the sink, your dress hiked up high on your thighs. Your face is this close to being smushed if not for the hand you have to throw up to keep from smearing your makeup. You pant against the glass, angling your body to watch how his blond tuft of hair moves rhythmically in the mirror when he licks you from clit to taint. You moan quietly when he leans back to spit on your hole, not realizing how disheveled he looks all the while. His hands are gripped tightly on the globes of your ass, spreading you, as he watches his spit dribble before he dives back in to lick it up.

On your kitchen counter, with your toes curled into the edge of the marble, your hands holding onto his hair for dear life. Bakugou holds you by the hip and tit as he works his mouth over your clit, sucking and licking at the swelling nub as he stares up at you from under thick blond lashes. He likes this angle where he can watch the pretty faces you make whenever his tongue lashes on your clit, and how your eyes always roll back when you realize he’s been looking at you the entire time.

On your side while you lay in bed on a hot day, forgoing any clothes due to the sticky heat. You’re tempting him, he tells you as he kneels on the floor beside the bed where your ass sticks up, right in his damn face—how could he resist? You’re not complaining though, as you hold one cheek open for him to lash his tongue against both holes, gasping in surprise when he groans against you, and dips his tongue inside of you as far as it can go. He pulls back with a smack of his lips and a bite at your pert little cheek, before he wiggles his tongue back inside of you once more.

Up against the wall after a night out, all sweaty and inebriated and drunk on the love you have for each other. He doesn’t even let you take your shoes off, just hikes your skirt up and places your thigh over his shoulder. He cranes his neck to slurp at your cunt, grunting when you pull his hair, licking at you with desperation to taste your cum flooding on his tongue as soon as he possibly can.

He loves it especially, when you sit on his face. With your thighs caging his head in as you ride his tongue and use him like the toy he is for you. Or when you turn around and really sit on his face, lightly playing with his neglected cock because the both of you know that right now, this is for him, and all he wants is for you to ride his face until he can’t breathe. He likes when you rub your scent all over his skin, rub your entire pussy from top to bottom, his nose bumping your clit all the while, his tongue out to catch whatever he can.

he’s just a feen for you and eating you every way he can basically.

[eromrevencrow]

i think a lot of the discourse in iwtv wouldn't happen if people who didn't like Loustat's relationship stopped watching the Loustat's relationship show, as simple as that

[ryllen]

something i promised on my kofi 6 months ago... 🫠

[artsymeeshee]

one of those nights

[shalom-iamcominghome]

If you look at jewish people voicing their concerns about antisemitism as anything close to a "victim complex," you're just an antisemite, like... How do two THOUSAND PLUS years of antisemitism around the globe sail over your head so easily.

[kokoasci]

hey! i want to make something incredibly clear.

ive clarified this on my instagram but i don't know if i didn't explain it well enough. I am aro/ace-spec. I do not like romantic or sexual interactions. I do not like NSFW content. This is my OWN preference. I'm not condemning it or speaking badly about it. I won't engage with it, neither will I portray it in my own art. I make art because I like drawing characters I like together and doing things. This does not mean I ship these characters, nor am I drawing things with the intention of a ship. If I tag a ship, I mean this in a platonic pairing. You will never see me draw anything romantic unless it is very clearly me playing on a joke or something. i.e., I won't draw anything that makes me uncomfortable.

I cannot stop someone from seeing a drawing I make and taking it as a romantic ship. It's always been my intention that I draw what makes me comfortable, and that means platonic interactions. If YOU think it's romantic, then like cool ig? But that's not my intention, and it wasn't meant that way. It's not up to me to make sure every person will see things exactly as platonic, and if you ask me why something looks like ship art, then that's someone interpretation, and not my intention