Okay I have to come to terms with myself, I can’t hold it back anymore. I have the hugEST CRUSH ON SHANE FUCK! He seems so sweet and gentle and like a free-spirit and the way he acts around Jason just i’M HDSJGFJGFDLJGJLFJDASGKFG
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Now, if you think you have to contact me on DeviantArt, you definitely don’t have to. Some of you might not even have one. Just look at all of the information I give and then Copy and Paste what I have below and send it to me through Messenger! Or, if you want, you can just ask for my Email address and we can speak there. vvv
*The Character or Characters you want: ____ *Background or No Background: ____ (If you’re wanting a sketch, skip this) *Which coloring style you want: ____ (If you’re wanting a sketch, skip this) *Head to shoulders, Head to waste, or Full Body: ____ *Line art, yes or no: ____ (If you’re wanting a sketch, skip this. BUT IF YOU ARE WANTING SOMETHING COLORED LET ME KNOW IF YOU ARE WANTING CLEAN LINES OR ELSE I WILL COLOR IN THE SKETCH) *Explaining what you want happening or in the picture: ____ *Who you are: ____
he hasn’t smiled. it’s bothering you, eating at you. you’ve smiled and he’s frowning, blank, unreadable. why isn’t he looking at you. his eyes are bloodshot and dull and you’re staring again, but how can you not? you’ve left half of a sandwich by him but it’s untouched (it’s been forty minutes. is he busy or ignoring you? it’s poison in your gut to see him do nothing). hands racing across the keys with nary a break as you chat with those in the chatroom–what else is there to do, honestly–and your stomach sinks as they tell you to comfort him. you’re the only one who can, but how can you if he doesn’t spare a glance at you? oh, it hurts, wrenching in your stomach in a tight ball of hurt but you smile all the same and assure them, “I’ll do what I can.” It helps them, but not you, but they’re more important–they need to smile too. sparing another glance at him, you catch him for half of a second looking up before he’s staring at his screen again, the monitor reflecting in his glasses making it hard to see his eyes. you huff a little, dropping your legs to the floor and heading towards the door, the only thing seeing you off being the sound of computer keys.
his mind is racing, it won’t stop; it’s hard to stay calm inside let alone outside.don’t let her see, he tells himself, don’t let her see. she could get hurt and she’s already in danger. he demands his heart to settle every time he feels her eyes on him. she doesn’t stop, occasionally asking him gently if he’s okay but he never responds, instead acting as though he’s listening to music and humming a song he can’t even place (that’s a lie. it’s her ringtone). she sits a plate down next to him and he spared a glance. a sandwich, neatly cut in a small portion just for him (good going. she’s worried. why can’t you just push her away and make her hate you? her worry is clenching his heart, his chest, it hurts, oh god–). love isn’t meant for him, but he’d be damned if he didn’t care for her. he hears her get up and go out the door, but to where? he gets worried. scared. she can’t leave; what if something happens? he’s scared, frightened, but does he follow? he considers getting up but then he hears the water in the shower. he tells his heart to quiet down. his fingers stop moving–fuck, he can’t focus–and he listens carefully to the sound of the water in the bathroom. he can’t focus. his heart won’t rest.
you step back into the room feeling refreshed, but not settled, and when you look at seven, he’s staring at his monitor again.
Say what you want about the Dingles, but when Aaron came forward about his abuse, not a single one of them ever doubted him. Not even for a single second, and I think that says so much more about the type of family they are than all of the petty silly bickering that all families deal with.
one of my favourite memes rn is when someone posts something and someone else reblogs it with a picture of a fictional character/famous person with the bottom half of a big white text balloon edited in so it looks like they’re saying the original post
so ! my anxiety & depression has been through the fucking roof the past 2 or 3 months , much , MUCH , worse than it’s ever been in all my years with them . i’ve deviated from attending 2 of my 3 courses because i just can’t do it. i only manage my communication class because it feels like a home there , & i connect with my professor , as she too ha anxiety . but back to the point :
i’ve been sick & tired of my family either being in the dark of my issues or straight up not acknowledging them as serious problems , so i finally struck up the courage to write a letter to my father im shit at wording my thoughts , my anxiety fucks me up any time i want to be verbal . i visited him today to print out a paper due today , and also printed out the letter i wrote 2 days ago , & left it somewhere i know he’d see it before he went to bed . i lost it when he called 10 minutes ago , but he was so understanding & serious about it , & so sincere that i felt more comfortable than i ever had with any relative . he’s agreed to help me seek help with no problem , & honestly that really makes me feel amazing . i’ve been desperate for professional help for as long as i could remember , lmao .
he called back again when he finished reading it , which means he knows i’ve been dropped from those two classes by now , but he held no malice , which was fucking wonderful for my torn up psyche . im spending the weekend over his place , & he’s asked me to come sit & talk to me in the car when he drops by because he just really wants to express his concern physically too .
tl;dr: gosh im so glad i finally opened up . it was hard , but i finally managed , & it’s made like 50 pounds float off my shoulders . aaa