#major work

[heliumtoast]

I've been meaning to post this.

I finished my final year of high school recently and had a art major work. Now that marks have come out, I can post it.

[mj-writes-stuff]

Hey! Welcome to my Writeblr :)

I'm an English Extension 2 student with extreme writing anxiety (not a fabulous combination, I know) but I'm passionate about what I do. I'll be using this blog to document my major work process, post some of my creative writing pieces, share writing tips and inspiration and help out any of you aspiring authors with any questions you might have. Also hoping that posting here might help me get over my reluctance to share my work.

I've decided not to post anything much about my Major Work because I'm so paranoid that someone's going to steal my idea. Come the end of exams I'll be very excited to share it with whoever's here, though!

Another thing I'm enthusiastic about is helping others with their writing; if anyone has any inquiries as to how they should go about a new passion project I'd love to help you out, so feel free to ask, IM or email me at mjwritesstuff@gmail.com for some written feedback.

I'm still in the mildly painstaking process of setting up this blog at the moment, so please bear with me, I promise it's going to get better.

So, yeah, that's me! IMs and asks are always open for anything and I'm super excited for this to (hopefully) take off!

— MJ xx

[bereft-of-frogs]

There’s that post that’s like ‘everyone should get into a tiny niche fandom at least once’ fully agree, that was really fun -- but I would like to add that everyone should get into a fandom where their opinions run counter to major fanon because it really teaches you about sticking to your guns and trusting your interpretation of the text without having to rely on peer validation

because WHAT are people talking about sometimes

[imliterallybeggingyou]

Elephant in the room time! I’d like to give a summary for everyone here.

I think we have all been waiting for someone to dig up something about Tim Walz, and what they found is a DUI from 1995.

Tim Walz was still a teacher at the time. He was with his friends, watching college football. He chose to drive home, and was pulled over for going 96mph in a 55. He was charged and fined.

Directly afterwards, he tried to resign from his teaching job out of guilt for his actions. He felt terrible, he felt disappointed in himself, and thought he didn’t have the right to teach or be a coach because of it. The principal pushed back immediately, asking him to stay. The principal refused to let him resign.

11 years later he became a member of Congress. 30 years later, he still hasn’t touched alcohol.

His drink of choice is Diet Mountain Dew.

Trump supporters are seemingly oblivious to the hypocrisy of their criticism of Walz. It has been 30 years since Walz was charged with his only misdemeanor. In May of this year, Trump was convicted of 34 felonies.

[pineconnie]

does anyone have tips on composition for individual artworks? Doing my major work and my art teacher is NOT helping 🙏🙏

the pieces are supposed to gradually get more and more abstract :3

[spoopdeedoop]

king and harbinger, old and young

[oliveroctavius]

In Plagiarism and You(Tube), Hbomb says "If you consider something so obscure you can get away with stealing it, you do not respect it." Save that line for the next time someone tries to tell you that Roy Lichtenstein brought respect to comics as art.

It's since been pointed out that while Lichtenstein did copy one of Russ Heath's drawings of an airplane getting hit, the painting depicted above was actually copied off Irv Norvick, because Lichtenstein did this so many times to so many comic artists.

In Lichtenstein's defense, he was doing this in a time when comic artists frequently weren't even credited in the issues themselves. In his condemnation, he never even tried to check, nor has he made any move to pay or credit any of the comic artists who recognized their own work later on. Rather than elevating the "low art" of comics, he was widening the gap of financial success and respect even further.

The Hbomberguy of this story is art historian David Barsalou, who has now spent decades tracking down the original art and the names of the original artists used in Lichtenstein's most famous output. Here's the flickr gallery for the Deconstructing Roy Lichtenstein project. Frequently copied were Tony Abruzzo, Ted Galindo, Mike Sekowsky, Joe Kubert, Jerry Grandenetti, and dozens more Golden Age artists who aren't very well known in comics circles, let alone art history books. Many of them died in poverty. That's something that the Hero Initiative, mentioned in Russ Heath's comic above, aims to prevent.

Also, Lichtenstein didn't even paint Ben-Day dots. That's a specific thing.

[omentu5]

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

At your side [End of Season 2]

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[ohitslen]

Average university experience

[incorrect-bhaalspawn-quotes]

Tav: I will now torture you.

Astarion: Kinky.

Tav: I think you are sweet and handsome.

Astarion: …Wait.

Tav: You deserve to be cared for as much as you care for others.

Astarion: N-no!

Tav: Your feelings and needs are valid and deserve to be heard.

Astarion: I need a safe word!

[intotheelliwoods]

must not.. overthink... must NOT overthink shit. magic... must not.... logic brain... my poor poor logic brain....

Response to this aha

[beybuniki]

it is not that deep, but sometimes i find the discourse about forgiveness surrounding bakugo interesting because there's a lot of (younger) fans who have zero empathy for bakugo and think deku should beat his ass or that bakugo should face harsher consequences etc., and i'm just thinking that such a radical stance on forgiveness and resentment in general (outside of bnha) is a bit naive. and i'm not surprised that it's a lot of younger fans who hold this sentiment (i say this with no judgement, i think we've all been there as teenagers, you rlly think you're above all of that lol). and this isn't about what deku is "supposed" to do either (plenty of possibilities here), but i personally don't see any merit in bakugo "punishing" himself for his past actions, it's so damaging and unproductive and i feel like that's sth you have to realize as a young adult. so much about this discourse is surrounded around deku's reaction (and male fans expecting an aggressive rejection or whatever) and i can def see less convenient reactions from deku'sside work, but what makes bnha as a whole but bakugo in particular so compelling (imo!!!) is that there's so much kindness poured into the whole situation, i think the epilogue made is pretty clear that bakugo feels ashamed and angry about his negative influence on deku's self-worth and that will forever be his cross to bear, but he also isn't one to wallow in self-pity or self-hatred and that is a good thing. this started with bakugo but i guess my point is that i think his whole arc is a nice outlook on young adulthood, you will make big mistakes that will negatively affect either you or someone else and you rlly won't survive your 20s if you don't learn to find a balance between accountability and forgiveness.

idk i personally love that bakugo becomes a better person out of love for deku and himself and everyone else, that's how you /should/ guide kids like bakugo and that's how you should be led into your 20s when you will make mistakes that might have even graver consequences lol

[hairmetal666]

Everyone in the league knows about Eddie Munson. He has the makings of a great pitcher, except for the fact that his slider has a 75% chance of sliding too high and his fastballs mostly end up in the dirt. His technique is wild, flailing, unrestrained. Which is why Steve is beside himself when he learns about the trade.

The owners, they think that Steve being the best catcher in the league means he can work with Eddie, settle him, make him a real prospect. Steve's input isn't needed with the decision already made, but Munson--with all his tattoos piercings and leather--looks like he'd rather hock a loogie at Steve than take directions from him.

And Steve is the best in the league, the glue that keeps the team together. They're a well-oiled machine, and Eddie is--Eddie is a squeaky wheel.

They meet for the first time, briefly, in the locker room. He's seen the guy before, of course, but now, like this, he can't help but be intrigued by his pale skin and long curls and brown doe-eyes, his lightly muscled frame. And they're in the locker room, Eddie with just a towel around his waist, exposing his toned chest and stomach and the black swirl of his tattoos.

"Steve Harrington!" Eddie reaches out a hand. "Great to meet you, man."

"You too. Excited to have you with us." The handshake is quick and firm and Steve is trying not to be surprised about how excited and genuine the guy sounds, keep his mind away from thinking of how Eddie is naked aside from the towel.

With only a few weeks until the start of the regular season, Eddie starts pitching to Steve. And Steve, he so expects Eddie to fight and grumble and refuse, that his head sort of spins when, on the first day, Eddie claps him on the back with his glove, says, "where do you want me, cap?" and that's that.

He wants to say that they dislike each other, that they're a bad fit, that Eddie is full himself and refuses constructive criticism.

Instead.

Instead it's easy.

Eddie doesn't complain, doesn't argue, just watches Steve, learns him, takes his advice and notes and implements them as much as he can. They like each other, have an easy rapport, get each other. He's tight with all the pitchers, but Eddie is different. They settle each other.

They're best friends. They hangout constantly. And he doesn't have a crush; he doesn't. It would be unprofessional. They're best friends.

But sometimes, sometimes he thinks he catches Eddie looking at him. It's impossible. Of course it's impossible. Eddie couldn't be into the guy Sports Illustrated called "baseball's Ralph Lauren model" in the intro to Steve's Body Issue photo spread. And it doesn't matter one way or the other because Steve won't make a move. He won't jeopardize the team like that.

They don't touch. He touches everyone on the team, often, and Eddie particularly is a physical guy, but aside from that first handshake, he keeps his distance. Steve's afraid--even though it's silly, he's afraid--that once they start touching, he won't be able to stop, and he can't let that happen.

The team is good, competing for first place in the National League. Eddie's success has made everyone else better.

It's late July, they're in first place in the league, and Eddie's pitching a perfect game. There's only been 24 perfect games thrown in the history of Major League Baseball, but it's the eighth inning and Eddie's doing it.

A pitch goes wild, veers high over the umpire's head. Eddie's shaken, Steve can tell with how his fist tightens compulsively around the ball. The next pitch swings wide, towards the batter's knees.

The count is at 2 balls, no strikes, and he can see, even from behind home plate Steve can see, that Eddie's losing it. He heads for the mound, refuses to let it end like this. He closes the distance between them, has a quick internal debate before he puts his hand on Eddie's lower back. They've never touched, this is it, this is--warmth bleeds from Eddie's skin, through the fabric of his jersey, goes straight to Steve's head.

Eddie frowns. "I don't think I--"

"You're going to do it, Ed. I know. I can feel it." He pats his chest, over his heart. "It's gonna happen."

Eddie's breathing settles and it's only then that Steve realizes he's rubbing circles into Eddie's back with his thumb. He's not sure when he started, doesn't want to stop, loves being able to feel.

"Okay," Eddie says.

"Okay."

Steve removes his hand, heads back to home, still tingling with the warmth of Eddie's body even as he crouches behind the plate.

He closes out the inning with three definitive strike outs. The crowd goes wild.

They take the field for the top of the 9th, the crowd is screaming, ready for this, the energy zipping through every player on the field.

It goes by in a blur. Nine pitches. Eddie's perfect game is wrapped up in nine phenomenal pitches.

As the ump calls the last out, there's a moment of complete and utter quiet in the stadium, Steve's heart a pounding hum in his ears, before pandemonium breaks loose. There's screaming, fireworks, someone is crying--

All he can see is Eddie. Eddie's who's thrown his glove to the dirt, is barreling towards him with a triumphant smile bright on his face. Steve stands, runs to close the distance. He sees the moment that Eddie decides to jump into his arms, catches him easily--will always catch him--but his legs are tired and the momentum gets him, sends them tumbling back into the grass.

They're both yelling, laughing, smiling hard enough to hurt. Eddie's hair has fallen out if its tie, tumbling around his shoulders, and Steve gazes at him, can't help it, in this moment can admit that he's so, so astronomically in love.

It's only then Steve realizes that the laughter's stopped, that Eddie's gazing back. Brown eyes shining bright with happiness, cheeks flushed pink, lips parted. Thoughtless, he reaches up to caress Eddie's cheek.

The team reaches them, streaming around them, yanking Eddie and Steve to their feet. The celebration stretches around them, the moment slipping away. He wants to finish what they started but there are interviews, champagne showers, congratulations, that keep them apart. Sometimes, from across the room, their eyes meet, and there's heat there that's new, that sparks something low in Steve's gut.

Hours pass, and finally he finds himself alone in the locker room. He's just pulled on his t-shirt when the door shuts behind him. He spins, finds Eddie, waiting, watching.

He crosses the room without a word, can't not, not now, not after everything. They grapple for a second, the wanting so strong that it takes a second to settle, to find each other. They kiss hard, desperate, seething with desire.

Steve hopes it never ends and it doesn't, just tapers into soft kisses, gentle nips. He can't bring himself to step away.

"Is this for real ?" Eddie whispers.

"I've been insane about you since the trade."

Eddie's smile is blinding. "I used to have those pictures of you--the ones with the little red shorts?--in my locker in the minors. Feel like I'm living in a dream right now."

It lights him up inside, knowing that Eddie wants him, has wanted him. "Let me take you home and show you just how real it is?"

He snorts, but his dimples deepen, eyes shining. "What a line, sweetheart."

"Yeah well, the baseball field isn't the only place where I hit home runs."

[botanyshitposts]

dichotomous plants are so weird man. like they’re not even weird it’s the becoming the dichotomous that’s weird. i went to a talk once about a population of strawberries that were accidentally slowly becoming dichotomous and they didn’t even have sex chromosomes, like they had like a bunch of genes across a bunch of chromosomes that did a little bit of sex but not a lot and it added up to one whole sex kind of but not enough that they had all collectively decided to be one sex or the other, so there was still like, a sizable chunk of the population that was producing flowers of both sexes. like they were microdosing it. taking the sex genes for a spin in the strawberry patch

[bacchuschucklefuck]

while teen while goblin while aroace while injured while doing your best