#this is my take for today

[theeyeofeverything]

Eagle, at the gates of Hell

[flawlessflesh]

a mermaid duet, featuring our shining stars laios and thistle

[taimanzano]

One of one. One, alone, one.

[bamsara]

I think that one thing people fail to understand is that unsolicited literary criticism coming from an online stranger who is reading with no knowledge of what the authors intended goal is, is not going to be received the same as say: the authors beta reader or friends who know what the authors intended goal and has the sufficient knowledge and input to help the author reach that desired outcome.

"But I'm only trying to be helpful" How do I know you have the knowledge and literary skill for you to be able to actaully do that when we don't know each other and you are essentially a stranger to me? Are you applying this criticism based out of personal biased experience and desire to see the story or characterization be driven in another direction or tweaked, or do you know the author's intentions for the character? If the story is incomplete, are you basing your criticism of a character on the incomplete narration with only partial information available of them or are you building up a report until the story's completion? Did the author provide you with the information needed to make a fully informed criticism?

Have you discussed with the author what their plans are or are you assuming them based off the narration, especially if the narration is proven or implied to be unreliable or missing key points of the plot? Are you unbiased enough to help them reach their desired outcome for the characters and story regardless of your personal feelings towards the characters/antagonists and setting? Can you handle being told your specific input isn't wanted because you're a reader and/or have no written anything relating to their genre or topic? Do you understand and respect that the author's personal experiences might influence their writing and make it different than how you would have done it personally? Do you understand if an author only wants input from a specific demographic relating to their story?

If it's for fanfiction or other hobby media, are you holding a free hobby to a professional standard? Are you trying to give criticism because you feel like the author has produced 'subpar job performance' of their fic? Are you viewing their work as a personal intimate outlet or something that must conform with mass media? Are you applying rules and guidelines when the fic is shared for simple sharing sake? Is your criticism worded appropriately and focused on the parts where the author has requested input on rather than a general dismissal and or disapproval?

Have you put yourself in a place where you assumed you have the input needed for the story to evolve better, or have you asked what the author needs and what they're having trouble with? Can you handle having your criticism rejected if the author decides their story doesn't need the change and not take it as a personal offense against your character? Are you crossing that boundary because you think you are doing the author a favor? Are you trying to be helpful, or do you just want to be?

I think sometimes when people hear authors go 'please don't give me unsolicited writing advice or criticism' they automatically chalk it up to 'this author doesn't want ANY constructive feedback on their stuff at all' and not "i already have trusted individuals who will help me with my writing goals and- hey i don't know you like that, please stop acting so overly familiar with me'

[emilinqa]

BLOOD FEVER

[sushiisiu]

this text message has made me think of scollace since the first time i saw it so

[woundlingus]

“If Castiel were a woman destiel would have been canon” if Castiel was a woman she would have been killed off in season 4 because everyone would have screamed and pulled their hair out over how much they hate her for the crime of holding Dean’s attention and bashed for being a dumb bitch who never does anything right and a waste of screen time like every other woman, destiel never would have been a concept to start if Castiel had been a woman

[anna-scribbles]

last one i promise(<—lie)

[erinwantstowrite]

hey guys here's a little reminder to take care of your wrist while you're writing or drawing otherwise you're going to develop carpal tunnel 😭

[blueskittlesart]

All children raised religiously are being abused. They're sweet now but in thirty years see who's voting for Trump Jr or who ever the fuck.

ok let's talk about it. for context i've been working with children aged 2-6 in both school and home settings for almost 10 years and have met kids raised in basically every major religion in the world. I was personally raised completely agnostic.

religion is not inherently abuse. religion is a moral framework. All religions have the potential to become high-control groups or perpetuate abuse, and certain religions are more prone to those issues than others. that does not mean that teaching your child about the god you believe in is abusive. the abuse comes when your religion perpetuates a lack of choice, which, as I have already explained, most of the religious children i have worked with are not experiencing. Religion at such a young age is often primarily about stories, which preschool aged children LOVE. The bible functions similarly to, say, a my little pony episode to these children, in the sense that it's a fun story they get to experience which teaches them an age-appropriate moral lesson at the end. (and by and large, these kids are only getting the age-appropriate stories and lessons. I do not know any evangelical children who are being taught about the rapture and i don't condone that kind of fear tactic, but again, that's not what's being discussed here. we're talking about RELIGION, not high-control groups that happen to use god as a mechanism to perpetuate their abuse.)

in that same vein, religion in preschool aged children largely functions as a moral framework, which, in certain situations, can genuinely be very helpful. the christian and muslim children I have worked with especially are very often the ones that are the best at resolving conflict. they understand the concept of "treat others the way you want to be treated" and they're able to articulate it to their peers at an age where their morality is still developing and children often think in very black and white, self-centered ways. With rituals like prayer, church, etc, at such a young age they tend to consider them bonding activities. they have friends at their church or temple. their entire family prays together in the same way an agnostic family may enjoy a family dinner. again, I'm not denying that these rituals have the potential to be used to control or abuse, but they are not INHERENTLY abusive. they're normal. religion is a normal part of life for a VERY large percent of the population. telling your two year old about heaven isn't inherently going to strike the fear of god into their heart. more likely it's going to make them tell their babysitter, very earnestly, that when they go to heaven they're going to bring their legos so that we can all play legos together in heaven.

it is very likely that you, personally, have people in your life who are privately religious and you never even knew, because religion is not inherently a public statement of identity nor is it necessarily conducive to fringe or radical beliefs. it is a part of the human experience. you need to learn to be normal about religion.

[that-one-weird-cloud0]

Danny: *just chilling on the couch while being very still™️ at the Wayne Manor*

Clark: *comes to visit*

Clark: hey Bruce?

Bruce: yes?

Clark: why is there a dead child in your living room?

Bruce: what 0-0

Danny: oh shit

Danny: *starts up heartbeat* better?

Clark: *even more freaked out*

[hinamie]

...........slips gege ¥2000

[hansoeii]

need some help with that?

[yanderespamton78]

Edit since a lot of people seem confused - your "real" name is the name that you want to be referred to in real life. It doesn't have to be your legal name. So if you're trans and you have a different name to whats on your birth certificate, even if not many people call you by the name, it still counts as your real name.

Edit 2 : Holy shit guys please stop reblogging this post my poor inbox im getting like 20 notifs an hour asjfhkajshdkh /lh /srs

[seiwas]

cw: pro-hero bakugo, reader has boobs, kind of explicit/nsfw? idk i describe boobs, reader is smaller and shorter than bakugo, unedited sawry

bakugo's muscle tee looks as ill-fitting as it'll ever be draped over you.

there are reasons for this, perfectly founded and logical reasons for why that is—the main one being that, it's, well, his; two, maybe even three sizes larger than what it should be to fit you properly.

but, he can't stop staring, and there are reasons for that too—the main one being that, it's his, and yet, the only way he can ever imagine it now is when it's being worn by you.

your hips sway to the song you've been humming for the past five minutes. it's the same one, the chorus on a perpetual loop. he's sure it's the only part you know; you do this often enough that it's the only part he knows now, too.

the hem of his tee hits right at the top of your thighs, concealing just enough to tease, but he’s confident that if you reach up even the slightest bit for the cupboard overhead, there'll be nothing to hide.

he feels a little bit like a creep like this, watching as he stands in the middle of your shared living room, but it's impossible too look away—you've got to be doing this on purpose, right?

heat flares inside of him when you turn your body ever so slightly, the armhole of his muscle tee large enough to give him the clearest view of skin—

he gulps.

it's smooth, sloping just right; the side view of your under boob curves into its perfect shape and he can imagine it, feel—

(is this considered perving if he's been with you for years?)

the pan in front of you sizzles as you plop in god knows what. you pour in something from the side and wait, one hand propped on the hip you pop out. then, you pick up the pan, attempting to flip what's inside (probably a pancake, now that he thinks about it).

it’s hard to focus on what you’re cooking though, especially when all he sees is plump flesh jiggling, bouncing as you further agitate the pan.

he just got the pants of this suit readjusted, and now they're fucking tight.

bakugo normally runs hot; it’s kind of part of his dna. but this warmth is different, flushing him from head to toe. it creeps up the side of his neck, painting the tips of his ears a blooming red.

you turn around then, plopping the pancake on the plate atop the counter behind you.

"oh! you're done," you greet him with a smile. so. fucking. casually.

as if your tits aren't fucking peaking against the gray fabric of his tee.

as if you think he buys the fake innocence poorly concealing that sly, conniving look in your pretty eyes.

as if you aren't standing in front of him in his muscle tee, wearing nothing underneath it like you didn’t do this on purpose. like you don’t know what it fucking does to him.

his eyes squint suspiciously, deep vermillion staring straight into yours.

you tilt your head, the tips of your lashes kissing the top of your cheekbones as you blink. you reach for a bottle of honey.

“everything okay?” you ask, voice syrupy, sickeningly sweet.

your movements play in front of him languidly, the corner of your lips curling up slightly as you smirk. honey catches on your finger as you pop open the bottle cap.

he’s supposed to be out the door in five minutes if he wants to make it in time for a meeting at the agency. technically, he should already be there if he wants to keep up his track record of consistently being fifteen minutes too early.

but you start to approach him, rounding the kitchen island. there’s a narrow space between him and the slab of marble, but you slide into it like it was made for you.

he’s certain it was, from the way the tip of your nose brushes against his as you tiptoe. your tits are right fucking there, brushing against the skintight material of his suit.

there’s too much fucking fabric if you ask him, between cotton and spandex.

your grin widens, and he feels hot, the heat from his cheeks radiating.

then you whisper, still saccharine, “breakfast is ready,” before kissing him on the lips lightly. a short peck, soft in the way that promises more before you slip away, giggling in your retreat.

he huffs, watching you leave. his feet shift as he thinks.

five minutes, huh?

like hell he’s going to eat these damn pancakes for breakfast today.