CENTER OF MY UNIVERSE

Fandoms at this moment
  • SvTFOE: *screaming into pillow for July 15th* IMGONNAFUCKINDIE
  • Kingdom Hearts: aaaaAAAAAIEEEEEEEEEE *screams alongside with Star fans*
  • Adventure Time: we're still here! For now...
  • Steven Universe: *sobbing into a pillow from last month or doing memes*
  • Invader Zim: >:)
  • MLP: WE GOT A FUCKIN MOVIE AT LAST YAAAASSS
  • Wizard101: *dabbing to Emperya nusic while sobbing as well*
  • Pirate101: it's been...84 years
  • Winx Club: *rising from the dead* WE STILL HERE
  • Gravity Falls: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ we still here don't worry
  • Homostuck: *'patiently' waiting for Hiveswap*
  • Samurai Jack: *on the floor, tears swelling in their eyes* where's....new....content....
  • Eddsworld: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ but bassboosted
  • Trauma Center: ATLUS-SAMA JUST NOTICE US
  • Persona: *dabbing to 'Last Surprise'*
  • Villainous: We await >:3
  • Sorry if I got some incorrect ^^; I'm not particularly active in some of these communities but I see posts about 'em here and there!
3

Congratulations to Viola Davis on her Oscar win for ‘Best Actress in a Supporting Role’ as Rose Maxson in the film ‘Fences’ (2016) directed by Denzel Washington at the 89th Annual Academy Awards.

Thank you to the Academy. You know, there’s one place that all the people with the greatest potential are gathered. One place and that’s the graveyard. People ask me all the time, what kind of stories do you want to tell, Viola? And I say, exhume those bodies. Exhume those stories. The stories of the people who dreamed big and never saw those dreams to fruition. People who fell in love and lost. I became an artist—and thank God I did—because we are the only profession that celebrates what it means to live a life. So, here’s to August Wilson, who exhumed and exalted the ordinary people. 

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Tips for Surviving College (With a Mental Illness)

Don’t compare yourself to other students. Just don’t do it. Because of your mental health, there will always be things that are more difficult for you than other students. Waking up early, keeping track of assignments, staying focused and motivated, socializing outside of class, joining clubs. All of these are things that can be harder for students with mental illness. It’s important to just pay attention to yourself and make sure you’re meeting the goals you set for yourself.

Walk as much as you can. Go for short walks around campus, walk to class instead of taking the bus or driving, walk around the library in between studying. Just get up and walk. It’s important to get in exercise where you can and walking is a great way to boost endorphins.

Know the attendance policy for each of your classes. Within the first week of class try to figure out how each professor takes attendance. Is it at the beginning of class, end of class? Is there a seating chart (seriously) or is it just writing in your name? Is there a daily quiz? Perfect attendance isn’t always attainable so it’s important to know not only how many days you can miss or be late, but how you can get around that. If you’re just having a bad mental health day it’s good to know when you can get a friend to sign you in so you don’t lose attendance points.

Have a “backup buddy” in each of your classes. On the first day of class or at least before the first test, make sure you get the phone number and email of two classmates. Not only is it good to meet new people, these are the people who will be your lifeline. Did you miss class or just completely zone out and need the notes? Do you need someone to sign you in? Did you abandon your bullet journal and forget all of the due dates? It’s crucial that you have TWO people you can reach (in case one or the other can’t help you) when you have a question you can’t ask your professor.

Know your professors!!! Introduce yourself first day of class (so it can be short and sweet) or go during office hours (so there aren’t a lot of people). Professors are a lot more willing to help you out if you’ve at least tried to establish a relationship with them. You’ll be closer with some more than others but if you ever have to send out a panicked email it’s important your professor can put a face to the name. If you ever have an emergency and need an extension it’s a lot more likely to get one this way. Bonus: also get to know your TA or GA if they’re the ones grading your assignments.

Take your medicine, see your therapist/psychiatrist. College is too stressful to go without the medical treatment that you need. If you can’t afford treatment, most universities have counseling clinics where you can get free or cheap treatment from grad students. Many university health centers also have psychiatrists you can see cheaply. At my university I see a grad student LPC for free and get to see a psychiatrist for $10 an appointment. Your therapist can also write letters in case your professor or school needs proof of treatment or anything like that.

Register with your school’s disability services. I’ve met a lot of students with depression or anxiety who had no idea that disability could apply to them. Mental illness is a disability! Registering with Disability is invaluable. You can get access to tutoring, support groups, peer mentors, and most importantly: accommodations. If you get really bad test anxiety you can arrange to take your test privately either proctored by someone in disability services or in your professor’s office. Extensions can sometimes be made for assignments in case you have an emergency like a panic attack or other life disrupting episode. 

Whether you need accommodation or not, I strongly urge you to register with disability in case something happens. If you need to drop your classes or were unable to and end up failing because of your health, being registered with disability can mean your bad semester can be “forgiven,” essentially meaning you can go on medical leave.

Have a family member or friend for a support system. Outside of your therapist or DS, have someone who you can vent to. Have someone to buy you ice cream and tell you everything is going to be okay. Have someone who can tell you you’re beautiful and perfect the way you are, whether that’s your mom or even someone on tumblr. There are people all around who care about you.

Know that you are wonderful and brave and have already accomplished so much just by getting into college. About 1 in 4 adults have a mental illness: you are not alone. Even if it might feel like you’re the only one having a hard time, there are hundreds of students all around you going through the same thing. 

I’m a transgender moc who was forced to leave my home as a result of an abusive family. Since then, my family has harassed my university, the LGBT center at my university, those who helped me leave, and my previous place of employ. They’ve stalked my social media accounts looking for ways to figure out where I live and work.

As of now, I’ve graduated with my degree (despite multiple attempts by my family to attempt to prevent the university from issuing my degree) and I am attempting to move up in the world. I’m currently working two jobs, but I’m looking to move across the country to start a new life. Unfortunately, I live in a location where the cost of living is very high and there are few opportunities for someone to break into a new field without prior connections. 

In my spare time, I write and make graphic designs. I am eventually hoping to get a position working in marketing, or at a place similar to where I used to volunteer counseling LGBT+ youth. I’m not asking you to donate or buy anything that I make, but I’m just asking that you follow me and reblog this post so I can get more visibility. 

jadednormality  asked:

Is there any specific reason your work features almost exclusively female characters? It was just something I noticed and was wondering if it was a statement or just had to do with inspiration. Thank you!

Who, me?! 

Well that’s easy! I paint women all the time because I love them. Women are majestic, beautiful creatures and if I could paint them all day every day I’d be totally okay with that. 

Much longer answer: 

I paint them because it’s what I’m drawn to. It’s not an active decision, it’s just what I want to draw whenever I pick up a pen. My art passions are so intrinsically tied with painting women that I could never separate the two. They are the center of my gravitational art universe, if you will.

It never started out as a statement. I still paint them now for all those exact same reasons, but there is definitely a feminist element to it now that I’m older. I still have so much to work on and I’m slowly pushing towards a much broader spectrum of the types of women I paint (more free time, please!) I love my childhood inspirations so much, but a lot of them only touched on a very narrow window of female representation.

I had a comment on one of my paintings once that has stuck with me ever since: “She’s given as much respect as a male character would be given. Thank you.” I could never bring myself to reply to this comment because a part of it just made me want to cry? I’m not articulate enough to really explain my thought process here but: I never start a painting with those kind of intentions. To me it should just be the norm that characters are given the same respect regardless of gender, but it’s not. We’re not there yet. 

I want to paint women with stories. With histories and regrets and triumphs and problems and passions. I paint beautiful characters, because women are beautiful, but I hope the fact that I’m always thinking about these things comes across at least. I’m all about women owning their sexuality as well, but I think you need only glance at my gallery to see I use it sparingly. And on the rare occasion when I do paint scantily clad women - it’s still not the focus? I like for it to fit, and to make sense, and to not just be there for the sake of it?!

I’m officially rambling now, but yes. There is a tiny cheerleader in my brain chanting ‘paint the ladies.’ 

i kinda miss being 16 it was really like …. a whole other plane of consciousness

6

“Thank you to the academy. You know, there’s one place that all the people with the greatest potential are gathered. One place and that’s the graveyard. People ask me all the time, what kind of stories do you want to tell, Viola? And I say, exhume those bodies. Exhume those stories. The stories of the people who dreamed big and never saw those dreams to fruition. People who fell in love and lost. I became an artist and thank god I did because we are the only profession that celebrates what it means to live a life. So, here’s to August Wilson, who exhumed and exalted the ordinary people. And to Bron Pictures, Paramount, Macro, Todd Black, Molly Allen for being the cheerleaders for a movie that is about people and words. And life and forgiveness and grace. And to Michael T. Williamson, Stephen Mckinley Henderson, for being the most wonderful artists I’ve ever worked with, and oh captain, my captain, Denzel Washington. Thank you for putting two entities in the driving seat: August and God. And they served you well. And to Dan and May Ellis Davis, who were and are the center of my universe, the people who taught me good or bad how to fail, how to love, how to hold, how to lose. My parents—I’m so thankful that God chose you to bring me into this world, to my sisters, my sister Dolores, we were rich white women in the tea party games. Thank you for the imagination. And to my husband and my daughter. My heart, you and Genesis. You teach me every day how to live, how to love, I’m so glad that you are the foundation of my life. Thank you to the academy. Thank you.” - Actress Viola Davis accepts Best Supporting Actress for ‘Fences’ onstage during the 89th Annual Academy Awards at Hollywood & Highland Center on February 26, 2017 in Hollywood, California.

ok but

  • Blue Pearl & Yellow Pearl running away together to abandon their Diamonds because they wise up and are tired of being used
  • THEY STOLE ONE OF YD’S ROCKETS AND LIVE IN IT
  • The two of them exploring the galaxies
  • Cute nicknames for each other, “sunshine” and “sky” respectively
  • Yellow can never shut up, Blue’s the quiet one
  • After they escape, each one of them poofs and their regenerations are so drastic from the designs they were given, much more of themselves… Yellow still kept the thigh highs, though.
  • i just think they would be very nerdy
  • and in love
Carry On Valentine’s Celebration - Day 3: Secret Admirer

Happy Carry On Valentine’s Celebration! @carryon-valentines

Here’s something lovely I’ve been working on (:

Find on ao3.

1.5k.


BAZ

Simon is casually hunched over on the floor when I walk into the living room, and he seems to be scribbling on something rather messily. He gasps when he sees me and immediately puts his hands over it.

“Baz! Don’t look,” he says, and then suddenly he glances around and slides the entire thing (a piece of paper on top of a clipboard) under the couch.

I cock my eyebrow at him and smirk.

“I was working on something and you’re not allowed to look.” He gets up off the floor and settles down on the sofa, just as Bunce walks in with a plate of scones and a bowl of biscuits.

“Ah, Baz, I didn’t realize you were here,” she says, handing the plate of scones to Snow. I sit down on the end of the couch and she sits at the other end, then awkwardly reaches behind Snow and pushes through his ridiculous, folded wings to offer me a biscuit from the bowl. I really don’t want one, but now I can’t refuse after she (literally) went through all of that trouble.

“What were you working on, Snow?” I ask, taking the biscuit and sitting it down on a coaster on the side table.

“I can’ tell ‘ou, Baz,” Snow says, his mouth full of scone. “Is a surprise.”

I roll my eyes, and Bunce giggles.

“As long as it’s not one of those cheesy Valentine’s cards you get from Clintons,” I say.

Snow glares at me, but I can’t take him seriously when there are crumbs falling from his mouth.

“Wha’s wong with cheeshy Valen’ine’sh cardsh fwom Clin’ons?”

“Quite simply,” I say, smiling gently at him, and I reach up to swipe a crumb off of his lip. “They’re lame.”

Snow sarcastically gasps, crumbs falling all around him, and Bunce giggles again.

“Probably because you never got any in school,” Bunce says.

I glare at her through a gap in Snow’s wings. “You probably didn’t get any either,” I say back.

“Fair point,” she says, and stuffs a biscuit into her mouth.

Snow is staring at me when I look away from her.

“You really never got any, Baz?” He asks. “Although, I guess I never saw any in our room.”

I laugh at this. “I would never have kept them even if I did.”

Snow glances over at Bunce, then back at me.

“So neither of you got any valentines cards?”

Bunce seems to be shaking her head. “We weren’t as popular as you, Simon. And I know you got a lot because I remember helping you carry the box of them up to your room in sixth year. You insisted we not use magic.”

“Look, Penny–,” Snow begins, but stops, and I notice through the gap that Bunce is looking at him fiercely.

“Simon!” she says, rather excitedly. “That was the year you got that secret admirer letter, remember?”

Fuck.

“Oh, yeah. I forgot about that.”

So did I.

“We never figured out who wrote it.”

Aleister Crowley, this is bad.

Snow is laughing. “We read it so many times.”

Fuck, Snow. Please stop talking.

“At least a dozen!”

You too, Bunce.

“What are you talking about?” I ask, carefully and calmly, although I’ve never felt this much embarrassment. This is one of the few times I thank my vampirism.

Yes, I wrote it. Yes, it was embarrassing. No, no one can ever find out.

“So in sixth year,” Bunce begins, and I know this situation couldn’t get any worse.

“Crowley! I still have it!” Snow shouts, and immediately jumps off the couch and runs to his room.

Bunce is laughing. I was wrong.

“So anyway,” she says. “In sixth year, after Simon made me lug up his ridiculous box of valentines cards, we found a letter attached to the outside of the bedroom door. It was from some mysterious secret admirer, who wrote in perfect cursive, and I had to basically read it to Simon since his cursive skills were atrocious.”

I smirk at this. “Typical Snow.”

Bunce nods and her phone buzzes. She pulls it out of her pocket and casually scrolls through it as she continues. “It was quite cheesy, and we read it so many times. They even quoted Shakespeare and Kierkegaard, which I thought was lovely, but Simon didn’t really seem to get it. He was obsessed with it for some time though, and we assumed at first it was from Agatha–,” I mentally frown at this, “–but she denied it multiple times. So then we made a list of people who could have sent it. Simon even went so far as to ask random people to write in cursive for him. He was obsessed.”

I snort at this. As embarrassed as I am, it’s a rather funny thought to imagine the looks Snow received from people when he asked them to do something so ridiculous.

“So what happened?” I ask. It was really the only question I could come up with that didn’t remotely give me away.

“Simon finally gave up. I mean, I think there was even a line at the end written in French.”

It was Greek.

“I mean, who writes in perfect cursive and just casually quotes Søren Kierkegaard?”

“Are you sure Agatha was just too embarrassed to admit it was her?” I ask.

“Agatha doesn’t give a damn about 19th century philosophers. Or cursive. Or foreign languages. And really, I can’t believe Simon kept that letter all these years. He’s never going to figure it…” Bunce trails off, and I know that I’m doomed. She sets her phone down and slowly turns her head towards me, her eyes gleaming.

I cock an eyebrow at her.

“I found it!” Snow says, waving an envelope around as he plops back down on the sofa. His wings are folded neatly behind him this time, and Bunce is staring straight at me. She mouths the words ‘It was you’, and really, her stare is so intense that I have no way of denying it.

‘Don’t. Say. Anything.’ I mouth back at her.

Bunce smiles maliciously and laughs. Snow looks over at her and shakes his head.

“What’s so funny?” he asks.

“Nothing, Simon. Why don’t I read that letter? Aloud.” Bunce smiles at me.

Fuck you, Bunce.

Snow takes the letter out of the envelope, and it’s so crinkled, like he’s held it countless times.

“Okay, okay,” he says, unfolding it and handing it to her.

Bunce takes the letter, smiles at me again, glances back to the letter, and dramatically clears her throat. But then, she looks back at me.

“Actually,” she says, and I know this can’t be good. “Baz writes in perfect cursive. Why don’t we let him read it?”

I cast a glare at Bunce so fierce, it could set a forest ablaze in seconds. But she deflects it like it’s a useless first-year spell.

Fuck you, Bunce.

Before I can respond, she passes the letter to Snow, who smiles at me. I curse that smile inwardly and take the dreaded paper. I glance it up and down a few times, also cursing my 15-year old self for writing such a horrid piece.

“Our life,” I begin, “always expresses the result of our dominant thoughts. And you, Simon Snow, are at the center of my mind.”

Bunce glances over and cocks an eyebrow, as if mocking me. I ignore her.

“Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is wing’d cupid painted blind. And you, Simon Snow, are the center of my world, my universe, and my heart.”

I’m cringing. And Bunce is giggling. But Snow is smiling at me, and Crowley, he looks beautiful.

“Don’t forget the last line,” she says.

“It’s in Greek, by the way,” I say. “Not French.”

Snow smiles even more and turns to me. “Baz! I forgot that you know Greek!”

Thank Crowley for Snow’s obliviousness. Because I was sure anyone else would have realized it at that point.

“Go on, then, Baz,” Bunce says.

I sigh, and stare at the last line for a long time. Not because I’m translating it (because I know it by heart), but because it’s so cringey to read the writing of your 15-year old self.

“Simon Snow, είσαι το κέντρο των πάντων μου,” I say. My Greek is still flawless. “You are the center of my everything.”

Bunce wrinkles her nose and sticks out her tongue. “Wow,” she says. “It’s even cheesier in English.”

“Shut it, Bunce,” I say, sighing. I begin to hand Simon the letter, and he’s just smiling at me. Crowley.

He takes the letter and stares at it. “Wow,” he says. “It sounds so nice when you read it, Baz.”

“I wonder why,” Bunce says, snickering, and I glare at her again.

“Well, we’ll probably never figure it out,” Snow sighs, folding the letter and carefully placing it back in the envelope.

Bunce pats Snow on the shoulder. “Oh, I’m sure you will soon.” And then, she winks at me. Winks.

Snow gets up and heads back to his room. When he’s out of earshot, Bunce turns to me.

“You will have to tell him sometime,” she whispers.

“Not a chance.”

When You Least Expect It

Requested by @gracefullydrunk, an Alpha!Sam x Omega!reader fic where the reader and Sam discover they are soulmates after reader gets mildly injured on a hunt.

Warning: A/B/O dynamics, smut

Word Count: 2700ish

Keep reading

Dear Straight Girls,
Shut. Up.
It’s nothing personal, really, it’s just that us gay girls get fucking tired of your bullshit sometimes. I know that you’re not trying to be rude, really I do, but it’s been a long day, and you jokingly calling me an abomination because “you have gay friends who say it all the time” doesn’t make it any shorter.
Dear Straight Girls,
The last thing I want to hear about is how un-fucking-fortunate it is that you got the straight end of the stick. That you wish more than anything that you could’ve been gay, because god, that would just make your life so much easier.
This may shock you, but moaning about how hard it is to be a heterosexual, does not get you a gold star in my book. It tells me that you only think of being gay as a lifestyle: an edgy, hipster choice that all us cool kids are making that you feel left out of. Well, guess what? If me and my future girlfriend can get kicked out of bakeries, kicked out of our homes, kicked out of our jobs- then you can handle not being part of this.
Dear Straight Girls,
Fuck you. Fuck you for thinking I’m always looking at you, for thinking I always want you. You are not the center of my universe. You are not some irresistible vixen just because my attraction to girls like you exists. You’re a girl. And I like girls. But that doesn’t mean I like you. Get over it.
Dear Straight Girls,
If I have to hear about how amazing your gaydar is one more time, someone’s getting punched in the tit. Don’t look at me, I don’t make the rules. Besides, I already knew they were gay five minutes before you. You’re not special.
Dear Straight Girls,
I know you’re probably pouting at my letters this very moment because I’m just the angry motherfucking queer girl with too much to say, but if you want to be as accepting as you say you are, shut up and let the gays talk every once in awhile. Maybe then we wouldn’t have to have this conversation every other day.
Dear Straight Girls,
Having a gay best friend doesn’t make you a queer activist. It doesn’t give you permission to call people dykes or fags because you are now an “honorary gay.” It makes you a person. With a best friend. Like the rest of us. Who needs. To shut. The fuck. Up.
Dear Straight Girls,
I’m not.
—  Fuck you for thinking otherwise