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Guess I have to actually do my job now huh?

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Temples are built for gods. Knowing this a farmer builds a small temple to see what kind of god turns up.

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♡🗡️VINTAGE STYLE DAGGERS DIVIDERS 🗡️♡

♡ Requested by @urween 🫶🏻

♡ Hope you like them. Send an Ask if you want any other specific style.

♡ Feedback is appreciated ❤️

IMPORTANT : If you use these dividers please tag @uzmacchiato for credit.

➡️ Masterlist ✨

( Images used are from Pinterest )

Please support by Reblogging, Liking or Subscribing.

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Please don't use without providing credit to the account mentioned above.

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Richard Chen’s Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Part V

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reblogging for laterrrrr

sometimes you need dialogue tags and don't want to use the same four

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🔹 Someone else's fiction cannot cause you physical harm.

🔹If someone else's fiction is causing you emotional or psychological harm, or distress, you can put it down and not read/watch it.

🔹Your emotional well-being is not the responsibility of fiction writers.

🔹Someone else's fiction is not about your personal trauma.

🔹When reading or watching fiction, you always have the power. You can always stop. You are never reading fiction without your own consent.

🔹Fiction writers are not responsible for other people's mental health.

🔹The content of a piece of fiction does not reflect on the morality of its author.

🔹Just because someone writes about bad things happening, doesn't mean they want those things to happen.

🔹Don't like? Don't read.

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Why We Need To Be Extremely Concerned About Trump's Shutdown of the USAID.

Here are some historical comparisons:

Putin (Russia): He shut down independent charities and aid groups so only his government could control who got help. This let him spread propaganda and punish people who didn’t support him while making sure only loyalists got resources.

Hitler (Nazi Germany): He got rid of foreign aid groups so that no one outside Germany could see or interfere with what he was doing. This let him control who got help and push his extreme nationalist agenda without outside influence.

Orban (Hungary): He kicked out international aid groups so that only his government and his rich allies could decide how money was spent. This let him keep power, reward loyal businesses, and cut off outside checks on his actions.

In all these cases, getting rid of humanitarian aid wasn’t about saving money—it was about taking full control, isolating the country, and making sure only their supporters benefited. That’s what Trump is doing now by shutting down USAID.

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I want TV to be like this again. Bring back filler! Being back community building through shows that aren’t sit coms! Stop making 8-12 episode seasons!

it was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of light, it was the season of darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.

and it lives only in our memory

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oh my god...

so the first screenshot is trying to look this up on tiktok normally, "donald trump rigged election" and it says that search violates community guidelines.

the second screenshot is looking up the same exact thing, but with a (australian) vpn on. canadian vpn didn't fix it fyi.

THIS is exactly the type of censorship to be looking out for on tiktok. this actually is crazy.

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Top tier

I made something dumb, hope y'all enjoy.💛💛

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starve the people and then give them bread. they won’t remember that you starved them.

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These pop ups on tiktok are so infuriating. This whole ban thing was literally his fault and now he’s playing the savior. Making a problem then solving it as an attempt to gain public favor. I really hope no one is falling for this lol

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do not for a second forget trump introduced this law. him "unbanning" it is pure propaganda meant to soften young (soon to be) voters of their opinion of him and rightwing political ideologies. do not fall for it

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Indigo (Inspired by Virginia Woolf’s “Blue & Green”)

The ocean is too dark, add just a hint of a deep purple lily and it might be just right. Look at the sky right after the rainbow gradient of sunset sky collapses into lines of white on the horizon, right between the night sky and the dying day. After the rain, find that vibrant arc of color and look toward the top, hidden between the final two stripes, the shy, calming color. It sits on small flowers that only own the spotlight when someone deigns to look close. Baptisia Australis, long green stems holding little showy flowers that spread out like a hand of cards, that get lost in the abundance of leaves. Hyacinths, little collections of bells sit altogether, called grape blue. Forget-me-nots, mini clusters of blooms sit amongst the green- green stems, green leaves- the petals called periwinkle or baby blue, but everyone knows that is not the right color.  People hardly notice when the shade’s in their midst, calling it dark blue, light purple, never by its name. Indigo doesn’t mind, content to live without the attention primaries and secondaries command. Children don’t use indigo markers or crayons. Indigo isn’t as eye-catching as the neons that shine under black lights. It is meant to simply exist, to be looked over. It is the hardest color for the eye to spot. It is content to be cherished by the few that see it for what it truly is.

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Thoughts of a Stressed Out College Student

“I’ll just read tomorrow. I have time before class, and it’s not that long of a story.”

“Why don’t you just do it now? You have time.”

“Because I don’t want to?”

“Don’t you have a bunch of stuff to do though?”

“Well, I have a paper due Wednesday, but I haven’t thought up a good thesis yet, so I need to wait on that. The story for tomorrow is only 13 pages. It’s not bad. Don’t you have homework to do too?”

“Dude. I don’t do my stuff here because I spend 3 hours doing it in class, and I don’t want to spend more time doing it here. You’re procrastinating.”

I just spend a whole class doing stuff for this paper too, but whatever.

“It’s not procrastination. I’ll get it done.”

“You’re putting it off. That’s procrastinating.”

The words didn’t sting then, but when I’d gone back to my bedroom and sat down at my desk they started to sink in. What does my roommate know about what I was putting off? She is an art major, not an English major. They’re totally different fields of study, and while, yes, I was putting off the reading just because my brain couldn’t handle it, I had done this before. I had done this one semester longer than she had.

There’s a pit in my stomach, one that yawns large and wide and consumes my thoughts.

I guess I should start something, but the story I need to read for tomorrow is dense and not a genre I enjoy. It’ll take me a long time to read, not to mention a level of brainpower that is diminished at this time of day. I would start my essay. In fact, I’d fucking love to start it so I don’t have to worry about writing it tomorrow, but I’m currently in the same trap that she described. I spent all of class today talking about this paper, thinking about this paper. My brain needs a break.

God, I need a break from this.

I just want to sit and watch a good movie like Escape From Planet Earth which I know is funny and awesome all at the same time. I just want to sit and read my book Gone by Michael Grant, because I haven’t touched it since I got here, and I still can’t do it now. 

I’m so busy thinking of things I want to do and need to do that I can’t get myself to choose something to focus on. I’m stuck in this limbo of my brain telling me to do something in the voice of my roommate who I’ve known since preschool. I know she didn’t mean it in the way my brain has taken it, but I don’t get to decide how my brain takes things. I just have to deal with the aftermath. 

I’m sure she can hear me typing in my room, thinking she got through to me when all I’m typing is the same sentence over and over and erasing it. I’m sure she hears me flipping through the book with the story I have to read, thinking she convinced me to ‘suck it up’ and ‘get it done.’ 

Every thought I have of taking a break makes my head feel lighter and that pit in my stomach yawn wider and wider. 

You have stuff to do. You can’t watch a movie, you don’t have time! You can’t read a book either, no time! You’re at school to learn right? You paid thousands of dollars to learn, so learn! You’re just being lazy. Get your shit done and then you can relax.

But nothing is ever done! It’s just one assignment after the next. Read this story, talk about it in class, read this story, talk about it in class, read this story, talk about it in class. It never ends! It makes me long for the days of high school when my problems seemed so much larger, but I was allowed to fail because I was a kid, I was learning life.

This is life. This is my life now, and I don’t even know if what I’m doing is right.

I want to write stories when I’m older. I want my name to be out there. Not famous by any means, just for people that might read my work and see something in it they relate to. I want someone to see my stories and enjoy them, think about how the world I created works. I want them to create themselves as a character, change my plot, make it better in their own ways.

But I don’t even know if I can do that correctly, so I say I want to be an editor. I want to read people’s stories and help them become the best version of what they could be, but I’m not good at that either. I read the same stories as others in my class and I don’t see what they see. There are complexities lying in the spaces between the words that I just can’t seem to find.

I’m better than I think I am. Or at least that’s what I tell myself, I don’t believe it at all. 

Maybe that’s why I sit here now, writing this piece instead of writing my paper or reading that story, because I’m not good. I’m sure that I’m not even great.

All I want to do is cry but the tears won’t come because What if my roommate hears? What if she blames herself? What if she asks questions? And that’s more terrifying than anything else right now, because no matter how much I hate myself, I don’t want that for her. She was just expressing her opinions. I shouldn’t be crying over it, and she shouldn’t feel bad for doing so.

But bottling up your feelings isn’t healthy. Neither is drinking a Monster or eating Hot Cheetos or literally any of the other hundred things I do that are wrong. 

What’s one more thing on the pile of inadequacy that is me?