The more you reblog artists or writers' work, the more they kiss you on the lips passionately

The Bird

As I looked out into the desert sky, I felt a breeze I had never felt before. It felt almost calming, as if something were to call out to me in the distance with its warm tones that feel all too familiar to my ears. And at last, I see an entity with that same sense of familiarity. There it was, a bird silhouetting through its never-ending seas. It was like I could taste the sweetness of a honeycomb tree each time its wing grazed through the untouchable wind. I knew it was taking over me. And I knew I couldn't fake it, even if I wanted to. I knew this feeling all too well. It felt like home to me. As if the ancient roots were wrapped around my every being.

And yet I still felt as though there was something more to all of this. I couldn't put my finger to it, but I knew I just had to know. Because it was so alluring to me that I felt as though I would never want to leave. But I just had to know what it was that truly was there calling out to me. So, I asked the bird who they truly were, to diverge not just its identity, but its intentions as well. It did not speak, not even a chirp. It flew away, but I knew I could not stand by and watch it leave my eyes. I could feel that warmth I once had slowly become colder. I knew that I needed to follow it so not only would I still remain warm, but perhaps uncover the truth to all of this.

So, I followed without thought, without consideration for the possible consequences that could ensue at any given moment. But it did not matter to me. I knew that this warmth I felt would never lead me astray. I knew that I would only become closer and closer to something even more grand that I had already experienced. And I couldn't have been more right. I could see something in the distance that could have never been in a barren waste land that I was in for so long. It was a field of the greenest grass I could've ever seen. It smelled sour but refreshing at the same time. I felt as though I could run faster, for I could see the bird was even farther. And so, I ran faster.

As I ran, I could see something more. It was a field of roses in every color you could ever have imagined. The beauty of it all was so captivating. It had the sweetest smell to it all. I felt as if I could taste it in my month as I breathed it all in. It opened up my lungs. And in doing so, I could run even faster than I did not even a moment ago. And I found myself running along side that same bird.

Whilst we ran alongside each other I could feel something in the air that had a slight cool breeze within the warmth I had already felt. It was a lake that glistened with the glare of the bright sun. I ran alongside that beautiful lake with my eyes wide open.

As I continued on, I could feel myself slowly lessening my strides. I felt as though I couldn't let something so beautiful slip past me. And as I did so, I could see everything I saw along my way converge together all in one place. So, I did what I felt was right and stopped to take it all in.

In doing so I lost track of the bird. The very thing that I set out on my journey to stay alongside so that I could continue to feel the warmth it gave me. I felt as if I had lost everything without having given anything at all. I could do nothing but fall over myself feeling my eye well up with tears full of sadness. The feeling of lose took hold of me faster than I could ever run from.

But then, suddenly I felt that warmth again, and yet it felt different. I knew it was close by, as if it was right behind me. I turned around with a quickness wondering what could bring me such a warmth again. But I was blinded by the light that shined even brighter before. As I opened my eyes to it all, there it was, what I never thought I would ever see again in my life. It was my family with their arms wide open ready to bring me into their arms once again after so many years. I could do nothing but continue to let my tears fall. They fell down my face as if it could overflow the lake that laid right beside us. Never before had I felt such a joy before in so long.

I thought they would say so many things to me as I had hoped. But they just held me still and silent with the warmth I had longed for. It felt like nothing short of complete bliss. I knew at that exact moment that there was no need for any words, not even a whisper was needed. Because I already had everything I need.

And yet I still gazed my eyes in the distant as I heard something. It was that same bird I had followed all the way here. At first I reached out my hand longing for its companionship. But then, I retracked my hand as I saw it fly off into the distant. I no longer cared about that birds reasons for bringing me here. I no longer wished to find the truth I thought I was searching for. Because the truth of it all is that it brought me right where I needed to be. It brought me Home.

Dear Female Readers,

This is a not so friendly reminder to, before submitting an ask, read the blog's description, pinned post and blog rules.

If the blog does not write for female readers... Do not request female reader content. Move along to another blog that does. You are not their demographic and that is a sure fire way to piss someone off.

And if you do read a blog's rules, pinned post and description and send a fem reader request anyway... You're a disrespectful asshole. You need to know that and correct your behavior. Thanks for reading.

— Benny 🐰, a person who runs a gn/male reader blog

You’re a story, that I’d happily spend hours reading. Honestly I’d do anything for just a page. And to be in your book? To be words intertwined with yours, through the scrawled scenes, thoughts and atmosphere… Well, I’d have to show my immense gratitude, I’d have to give you a brilliantly irresistible romance and make it a magnificently exquisite love story, wouldn’t I?

In her mind She's always wanted to be the poetry not the poet

In my mind She's always been Poetry in motion.

-Yash

Women in comics should be single (or in F/F relationships) unless they're in the main character spot.

Too many writers cannot handle writing M/F relationships in a way in which the female character has the same agency as male characters in the story if they're doing a team comic or in a male character's solo. M/F relationships have been cancelled in team comics and male character's solos until this bug is fixed

if one more male hollywood writer writes a movie about some pathetic middle-aged man rediscovering himself inside the vagina of an infinitely more interesting 22-year-old, I think we are socially and morally obligated to crush his balls and writing fingers between cinder blocks

Writing, actually writing. Doing it the old fashion way forces me to slow down and think about each word, each sentence.

There are times when my mind goes too fast for my ability to write long hand. That’s when drafting with the device and keyboard sounds appealing. But, my impulse to edit as I go is too much, I found.  Not to mention writing on my computer or iPad causes more distractions in general.

Doing it this way forces me to get to the end with minimal edits. It might be slower in the moment, but I already know if I stick to it, I will get to the end faster than otherwise. Gel pens, fountain pens, icing my hand maybe… probably not, I plan to do short spurts.

Hopefully I will have an update about how I finished my first draft.

Guys, I am begging you. Please, please, PLEASE REBLOG FREE CONTENT CREATORS or they will never have enough interactions and their blog will die or they will simply lose intest and leave Tumblr. Don't complain if writers or artists leave fandoms. They need reblogs to go further.

I am not a failure.

I have lived my life as best as I could not knowing its purpose. And yet here I stand through it lost and afraid of all that lies before me. This fear has crippled me, stived me even. Feeling unable to move forward, not even left or right. Feeling as if I can only move backwards, or not move at all. Such a terrible feeling to have. Living in a world where all I can do is fail over, and over again without any success to call my own in sight. I've felt nothing but shame in every indeever.

But I can no longer continue to live a life like this. I can't keep living like this. To live in fear may be scary, but that is what comes with life itself. We stumble and fall no matter what we do, and we have to learn to stand up for ourselves in these constant moments in life. Stand up from whatever comes our way. Whatever comes our way, we have to do what we can to live. No matter what it may be.

Mountains crumbling before our very eyes as they make way to crush us from fallen debris. Earths shattering right below our feet taking us into its endless darkness. Fire surrounding us burning our bodies to nothing more than smoke and ash. And yet, it's so strange we somehow manage to find the will to pull ourselves together and push ever forward.

I can no longer let these very things stop me from living a life that a dream for, that I yern for. It doesn't have to be anything glammerous. It just has to be a life that I choose to live. Because we are not the some of our failures. We are the architect of our own lives. And I will prove it by doing what I feared to do my entire life. Live.

Okay, since this apparently needs to be said,

Going into my asks and saying some heinous shit is not– I repeat– not going to make me reopen my asks. I don't even want the repost the idiotic shit that I just had the misfortune of reading because the ask was so racist and ableist that they forgot how grammar works.

News flash guys! If you come in and hurl insults at people who run a Tumblr blog as a hobby or maybe even just to spend spare time we won't do what you want us to, you'll either be blocked or ignored. They don't live to serve you, they're running their blog for themselves NOT YOU. Don't go harass people because you can't your way, it's childish, grow up.

— Benny🐰

Masterlist ࣪𖤐 DNI + BYI ࣪𖤐 Kinktober ‘23 ࣪𖤐 Most Recent Work

☆ About Me ☆

Max , Jimmy, or Bat ִ ࣪𖤐

࣪𖤐 21 / Black & Mexican / Very tired

Requests : open!🦇

May be Heaven and Hell are just conspiracies they never Existed.

Or

May be we are living simultaneously in Heaven and Hell in a term called Reality.

-Yash

What do you think about the book 'A Caution for young girls' written by Lady Coryanne Wylde?

Nope, anon, I don’t like it.

I feel that some feminist critics talked to GRRM about the lack of known female authors in Westeros as compared to the real life European Middle Ages; women—often of the cloth—were writing since at least the 8th century about their relationships with G-d, medicine (particularly related to women), advice on rulership, plays, biographies/pilgrimages, rules for their monastery, philosophy, fantastical long poems, both plainchants and polyphonic music; it’s estimated that 10% of all troubadours may’ve been women. The first autobiography written in English is supposedly Margery Kempe’s, dictated to a scribe in about 1440. In Westeros, until the release of Fire and Blood, all known authors were male (with the exception of Daenys the Dreamer, who wrote the lost book Signs and Portents) and there were only a handful of professional female singers (it’s unknown if they wrote their own songs). However, as I’ve explained in another post about GRRM going out of his way to mock certain American feminist iconography in Fire and Blood, he introduces 2 alleged female authors with Coryanne Wylde and Rue, both allegedly septas…and they write about 1) her alleged “erotic adventures” including being sold into sex slavery or 2) a supposedly inaccurate and sexually-charged biography of a great man who was probably her lover. What variety, especially compared to real life female authors.

I’ll mention that the bulk of “A Caution for Young Girls”, while allegedly written by Coryanne, probably wasn’t. The first copy appeared in 90, about 40 years after she’d disappeared in the Disputed Lands. There are four versions of it around, and the first shorter one that says she was the handmaid to a queen (Alysanne) and paramour to a young knight (Howard Bullock) who fled to Essos at least match up with what we know of her life. The others are longer, since apparently mummers decided to add more erotic incidents to the story, probably those after she’s been abandoned in Myr and seemingly enslaved. “A Caution for Young Girls”, like the famous 1936 film “Tell Your Children” (better known as Reefer Madness), belongs to the genre of faux-morality exploitation; allegedly being a warning for young women to not engage in intercourse with married men or else facing terrible consequences; however, considering Baelor ordered copies burnt and it’s more popular with brothel people and mummers than the pious, it’s really a series of titillating (or, considering it’s known for depravity, possibly including disgusting or anatomically impossible sex scenes ala Marquis de Sade’s 120 Days of Sodom) “adventures” that allegedly (but probably not, if you think about it) happened to one woman. And just like Reefer Madness, which is laughably inaccurate about the effects of marijuana, “A Caution for Young Girls” seems to gloss over the real horrors of slavery in Volantis, Lys, Qarth, and the Basilisk Isles in favor of eroticism. Considering slavery is a huge part in the main series, and a lot of Book 5 is devoted to how cruel and unstable it is, with enslaved women treated as sexually expendable trash…having one of the few female writers mentioned in the series seemingly make light of it isn’t that amusing to me. Yes, cruel reality being made palatable into songs is a big part of the series, but Fire and Blood isn’t written in a way that makes us empathize with Coryanne’s pain or struggles the way it does the sympathetic characters of the main series.

That the first English autobiography by a woman involved visions from her faith, her struggle with postpartum depression, meeting with other great Holy Women (Julian of Norwich), getting tried for heresy due to her faith multiple times but managing to be acquitted each time…there’s no comparison between Kempe and GRRM’s alleged female autobiographer. Kempe is her own person; Coryanne is a vehicle for sexual adventures (most of which are probably made up by people unaware of the reality of slavery), just like Rue is the scribe writing about the sexual adventures of Alyn Stu Velaryon. GRRM could’ve taken more from history and had in-universe female authors write about their visions (not just Daenys), music, plays, woods witches writing down medical knowledge, rules for motherhouse living, advice on government, etc; it would’ve gone a long way to convincing me Alysanne actually made positive lasting change for women, had she patronized female authors or artists (why is Coryanne the only one of her companions who wrote anything when most of them were septas?)

I can’t help but feel that some feminist critic complained to GRRM about no in-universe female authors, and he wrote Coryanne and Rue—known for highly inaccurate sexually charged biographies—to piss them off. Between the Maiden’s Day Cattle Show, the watered down versions of famous historical women (Eleanor of Aquitaine got imprisoned for 16 years because she encouraged her sons to rebel against their father, contrast Alysanne Targaryen; Mathilde of Boulogne rescued Stephen I’s cause by raising an army to chase Empress Matilda out of the city, then exchanging Stephen for Matilda’s strongest supporter, contrast Helaena/Alicent; Joan of Arc led the French to victory within months and defended herself Heroically on trial for heresy, contrast Jeyne Poore/Jonquil Darke), then naming an incompetent easily fooled knight who got brutally killed after the creator of Wonder Woman (Professor William Moulton Marston)…GRRM just showed how little he cares for the historical tradition that have inspired Western women for generations. Coryanne’s “writing” is just one example of that mockery.