and then i had to decrease the color

Night Owl - Shawn Mendes

lol i wrote this at 3:06 am until 4:33 am two nights ago. this was kind of wrote based off of what i desired i guess idk? um but yeah i would for shawn to sing me a little too much when i can’t sleep yeah that would b nice thanks. anywho another random thought, i am so happy that i haven’t watched the video for tnhmb because i think i would die and i’m seeing all these gifs and i’m like thank the lord i haven’t seen it thank the lord hahahaha this wasn’t requested either but u know my ask has been looking a little dry yall xoxoxo – You woke up to the sound of your heart thumping loudly in your chest and your skin tingling from being so hot. Shoving the covers off you as quickly as you could, you ran your hands down your face and grabbed your phone to check the time; 3:06 AM. Already feeling the tiredness but too uncomfortable to go back asleep, you looked over at Shawn. His eyelashes laid softly across the highest point of his cheekbones, his hair was sprawled out on the white fabric of the pillow case, one hand was placed behind his head while the other was extended which once held your shoulders. He looked peaceful and at ease, he looked beautiful. You smiled at him, he had come home to you for his week off but he will have to be back on the road again. You would get bad again. Bad meaning waking up at this early hour, constantly worrying about him, having a whole in your chest where he should be, the pressure of not being overly clingy because this is his dream and you didn’t want to be the person to ruin it, and almost going insane with the constant pain of missing him. Every. Single. Second. Of the day. He seemed to noticed that you had taken your heated body away from his because he brought one of his long fingers up to his eye to wipe the sleep out of it. “Baby? What are you doing? What time is it?” he asked, his voice raspy and low. “It’s okay, I’m okay. I just woke up for some reason,” you smiled at him. “Its early Shawn, you need to go back to sleep.” “I can’t sleep without you.” he mumbled looked at you through squinted eyes and raising his torso with his elbow. He unfolded one palm to hold out for you to place in his. He didn’t know hat you had been going insane without him here and that was the last thing you wanted to tell him. You also didn’t want to mention how this happens, every single night that he’s not here with you. Smiling at him again, you allowed him to pull you against his naked, but comforting chest. His skin felt warm but not too hot underneath the palm of your hand as you let it lay flat against his skin. He wrapped both of his lanky muscular arms around your and pressed his lips where your hair met your forehead. You wanted to cry. Cry because how on earth do you get the privilege of having such an amazing boyfriend. Cry because this will all be gone in two days. Cry because you didn’t know if you could keep going. You felt alone when he wasn’t here and no one could tell how much you were suffering. “Baby?” he whispers into the dark room, his voice sounded angelic and soft making sure that if you were asleep, he wouldn’t wake you. “Yes?” you answered back. “You have to tell me what’s wrong. I always see your activity on social media at this time of night, your mom said that you look like a zombie whenever she sees you when I’m on tour, and you have called me crying too many times to count. I don’t know if I can be away from you if that happens (y/n.) It kills me inside knowing that you are over here, across the world, suffering and you won’t tell me about it. Do I need to stay here, with you?” Your heart sank. You knew that if you admitted to feeling so alone when he wasn’t here, he would stay. That was the kind of boyfriend he was, but he had bigger things to worry about. He had countries to visit, cultures to experience, and his loving fans to communicate with. You didn’t want to be the one to take that away from his supporters, it would be selfish. You didn’t feel the tear slide down your cheek and fall onto the pale skin of Shawn’s sternum. You felt him take his thumb and gently sweep in under your eye to collect the moisture. Your pressed your face against his chest and sighed because you know that you were letting him down. He always told you how strong you were for going through this journey with him, but you’ve hit a breaking point. Your hands felt shaky and you whole body felt weak and exhausted. Your appetite was decreasing and the color in your cheeks had started to fade. You hated this. “It’s hard, Shawn. I’m torn from telling you that I go through absolute hell when you’re not here but I also want to tell you that I can get through it. That you can’t hold back because this is your dream. To play to fans all around the world and I don’t want to be the one who holds you back.” you feels more salty tears streak down the top of your nose and cheeks bones and onto his chest. “I can’t do it Shawn, I can’t.” you whimper and you feel him pull you tighter into him. “I go through it too, (y/n.)” I wonder if you’re going to find someone who can actually be there for you or someone who can give your normal life that’s not filled with screaming fans or paparazzi, out of the spotlight. I can’t sleep after you call me, knowing that you’re not eating or sleeping makes me sick to my stomach. You are my happiness. You are the one person who makes me weak. If you’re not healthy or happy I can’t go on anymore.“ “Shawn-” “I won’t go. I’ll cancel your if it means you’ll be happy and healthy again.” he says almost like a demand. He sighs again and presses his lips against your forehead. “Please don’t. You can’t let them down Shawn. I am one person compared to the millions of fans that you meet and see when you are on tour, I can’t ruin their happiness by keeping you here. It all gets a little too much sometimes.” you breath, the last sentence inadvertently quoting his song. You feel him smile against your skin as he pulls away from you. He starts to whisper, “She would not show that she was afraid,
But being and feeling alone was too much to face,” You started to feel the downpour of tears and almost apologized to Shawn because your tears getting on him but didn’t want to stop his beautiful voice from floating through the air. 
"Though everyone said that she was so strong,
What they didn’t know is that she could barely carry on,
 But she knew that she would be okay,
So she didn’t let it get in her way,
 Sometimes it all gets a little too much,
But you gotta realize that soon the fog will clear up,
And you don’t have to be afraid, because we’re all the same,
And we know that sometimes it all gets a little too much,“ He stopped for a second before bringing his hand up to his face and wiping his tears away before continuing with a shaky voice. 
 She would always tell herself she could do this
She would use no help it would be just fine
But when it got hard she would lose her focus
So take my hand and we’ll be alright
 And she knew that she would be okay,
So she didn’t let it get in her way,
 Sometimes it all gets a little too much,
But you gotta realize that soon the fog will clear up,
And you don’t have to be afraid, because we’re all the same,
And we know that sometimes it all gets a little too much, yeah.
 A little too much, I said a little too much, oh
 Sometimes it all gets a little too much,
But you gotta realize that soon the fog will clear up,
And you don’t have to be afraid, because we’re all the same,
And we know that sometimes it all gets a little too much yeah!
 Sometimes it all gets a little too much,
But you gotta realize that soon the fog will clear up,
And you don’t have to be afraid, because we’re all the same,
And we know that sometimes it all gets a little too much” You both laid in silence, hearing the fan hum lowly and the sound of his heart beat in you ear made you sleepy. That song wasn’t originally written about you, but he always sang it to you over facetime, phone, or in person. You pressed your lips against his skin where his heart lays in his chest. He rubbed his thumb up and down your cold arm before stopping abruptly and almost jolting. You looked up at him with sleepy eyes and tear stained cheeks. “Baby, come with me!” he says loudly, well loudly for this hour. “W-what?” you stutter. “On tour. You and I. I’ve always wanted to take my significant other along with me and I want you to experience the different countries. Please, I’ll talk to my manager tomorrow but there not doubt in my mind that he won’t let you go.” “Shawn, I don’t know. I don’t have a lot of money to travel and I don’t want be distracting or keeping your from your fans.” you sigh sadly because as much as you wanted to say yes, these doubts quickly flooded your mind. “What?! No (y/n.) They would see how happy you make me, how happy I make you, and I don’t think I could bear to be away from you again. Please?” You rolled you eyes because this kid had such a way with words. After weighing your options, it was an obvious answer. “Yes."


A Ryder x Jaal fanfiction

Originally posted by angaran-ryder

: Mass Effect: Andromeda

Pairing: F!Ryder x Jaal

Tags: Depression, cuddling, sadness, spoilers

A/N: I was a little upset that Ryder didn’t experience more emotion or anxiety over the fact that everything she knew was possibly gone back in the Milky Way. That she was among the few that stood between the extinction of multiple species trying to make a home in Andromeda. I know she is a PC, and we’re supposed to control her, but you’d think there would be more opportunity to display the emotion necessary to portray just how heavy that kind of burden is. And considering how many losses a few arks took prior to finding their way to the Nexus, the stress of that fact should have gotten even heavier. So I guess this is my little mini-fic trying to remedy that slight story oversight. Enjoy!

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Coloring Tutorial

Someone asked for a tutorial on how to color since I don’t use PSDs, so here it is! This is only the second tutorial I’ve ever made so please bear with me, and feel free to ask me questions if something isn’t clear. 

This tutorial is for people who already have a basic knowledge of photoshop and how to make gifs. 

I’m going to be showing you how to turn this:

into this:

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You Just Left Me To Die! (Pt. 2)

Originally posted by christopher-isaac

(Part 1)

Paring: Jason Todd (Arkham Knight) x reader

GIF Credit: ^^

Warnings: Swearing, blood, and violence.

Rating: Mature

A/N: d/n (dominate hand)

It had been nine months since the Clown died. When Bruce told you, you were so happy you could barely contain yourself. Jason had been avenged, you weren’t the one that did it, but that was better than having the Joker alive. Although crime had dramatically decreased, Bruce was insistent that there was something going on. “Bruce, he’s gone,” you would say, exasperated. He just shakes his head. 

“Listen y/n, there is going to be a new leader, I need to know who before they get too much power.” You just roll your eyes. Instead of fighting crime, you would find yourself just sitting on rooftops in your costume. Currently you were sitting in your favorite part of town, Chinatown. It looked so nice and colorful with all the Halloween decorations and neon red symbols. You were lightly swinging your legs over the side of the building, listening to the hustle and bustle of Gotham at night. You were quietly humming to yourself, not loud enough to miss the light sound of someone landing behind you. If it was Dick behind you he would have said some stupid pun by now, and Bruce would have already said something grim. You feel eyes boring into your back, making you shiver slightly. 

“Y/n,” says a cold robotic voice from behind you, the word sounded slightly garbled. Your body goes stiff, and you turn around despite yourself. There stood a man, a helmet covering his face, it was a strange pale blue color. On his armored chest was the Arkham symbol, bright white against his grey armor. You quickly stand up and grab your billy clubs, ready to fight. The man doesn’t reach for the gun strapped to his leg, instead he takes a step forward.

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Life or Death (Hamilton x Male!Reader) 2

Words: 2200+

Warnings: blood, disapproval of same-sex relationships, sex mentions

A/N: by popular demand, i made a part two of this. i had no idea where the plot was going to go, but i guess this is okay? enjoy!

Part 1

You groaned, opening one eye. The sun was shining brightly down on you, burning your irises. You pulled yourself up off the fence, stretching your back from the awkward position that you were in all night. By the sun and the empty streets, it was probably around seven in the morning. You stumbled up, attempting to walk with your wobbly legs. You pulled your bag from the bench, and began proceeding in the direction of your house.

It took you a few minutes to get there, your grogginess getting the best of you. As you were walking down your block, you finally remembered why you were outside. “Hamilton!” You yelled, widening your eyes. You quickly touched your neck, feeling nothing but smooth skin. You looked at your clothes, blood staining them. “What the-ow!” You touched your face, the skin tender.

Oh right. Bruises.

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oh boy so the test is ON FRIDAY and like everyone else, i am freaking out

so here’s a VERY BASIC timeline of main events in European History, for myself and anyone else on tumblr dying inside. I’m going to upload two units at a time(our class went by ten units) so here’s the first two! expect more tonight.

feel free to add anything i missed or made a mistake on!!


When? Beginning of 1400′s to the late 1500′s. Remember, the northern renaissance started later.

Why? Italy had a strong city state government, and was rich from trade in mainly Venice. In Florence, the Medici family ruled, and was rich enough to afford to commission art. Population has decreased from the plague, leaving an opportunity for more employment. The decline of the church (Avignon Papacy) led the way for secularist ideas.

Art? Focused less on religion and more on the person, in portraits. Use of perspective and color to show a more realistic world, as well as anatomical studies.

Humanism? Fathered by Petrarch, study of Greek and roman literature, and study of grammar, history, poetry, and philosophy. 

People? Writers - Machiavelli, Lorenzo, Boccaccio \ Artists - Donatello,  Raphael, Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo. You could spend weeks studying renaissance people, these are just the ones I remember seeing most.

Northern Renaissance? In France, Holland, and Germany. Focused more on Catholicism and on the baroque style.

Affects - Art changed forever, artists have famous status, paved the way for the scientific revolution/enlightenment and the reformation.


When? 1517, as a result of the 95 theses, but the Catholic church had started reforming since the Avignon Papacy to clean up their act.

Why? The Renaissance had allowed for some secularist ideas to emerge, and Martin Luther’s refute against the selling of indulgences started it. The Gutenberg printing press allowed the bible to be interpreted by people other than the pope and the few who spoke Latin.

People? Reformers - Martin Luther, Calvin, Zwingli // Leaders - Charles V, Henry VIII, Elizabeth I, The Henry’s in the War of the three Henry’s, Frederick William The Elector, Gustavus Adolphus.

Events? Establishing of the Anglican Church, The peasant wars in Germany, St. Bartholomew’s massacre, Diet of Worms and Council of Trent, Peace of Augsburg.

Thirty Years War? Begins with defenestration of Prague, starts Bohemia phase, Then Danish, Swedish, International/French. Whether Catholics or protestants won each phase isn’t important. Just know that the french joined to weaken Germany, the Holy Roman Empire was in ruins and had less power, and the Treaty of Westphalia ended it and all wars of Religion.

Affects - Protestantism, Break from the Church, no more religious wars, balance of power shifts.


hope this will help! ;u;


Braun Strowman/OC: Braun is sick and he doesn’t want to let you out of his sight. Aka Braun is a baby when he’s sick and he can’t be left alone. Fluff fluff fluff

I’ve been on campus for about an hour now and cranked out this Braun fic bc I have zero self control and I love Braun Strowman so much, it’s unreal. Anyways. Enjoy, friends.

Tagging my sweet lil nuggets: @lavitabella87 @omgmissmillie @everybodyfinnfreeze @shadow-of-wonder @screamersdontdance @laochbaineann @justtookawaii @sarrahcha @attilasgurl @twiistedbliiss @hotspurmadridista @alexispoo @niazha16 @happelu970 @officialbroski10-blog @artemisapalla316 @crowleysqueenofhell @lilmisscrisis @antigonemaia @littledeadrottinghood @imagineall-the-fandoms @fuckyeahbulletclub @hiitsmecharlie @macfizzle @bizclizbaybay @oraclegazes @culturalrebel @welshwitch5 @wrasslesmut @actualamyautopsy @blondekel77 @meaganottiz02

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My Weasley Sweater: Completed

So awhile ago, I posted about knitting a Weasley sweater and I never followed up on it. 

I struggled so much with this sweater. I originally used a purple yarn (that I was super excited about!) that said “No dye lot, so naturally, I thought “No problem! I can use these two skeins!”

How naive of me.

I knitted with one entire skein and was about five inches of knitting on the second one to realize that they were two completely different colors. Let’s just say that the yarn company got a very angry email. I ended up buying new yarn and started all over again. This was two years ago, and I wasn’t able to finish my project before I studied abroad. But, I did take some process pictures.

I was just super excited to make some progress.

This is my first time doing intarsia knitting

And then this was the back.

And then I came back from studying abroad and was able to finish my sweater during winter break. I kind of had to fudge the arm decreases, because they were getting too long. I realized after I washed it (and before it too, I must admit) that I really should have knitted a gauge swatch. It’s too big. It makes me regret how much work I put in, only to be unhappy about it. But, my friends like it, and it’s super comfy, so even though it’s not perfect, I still made it, and it keeps me warm.

All pinned out ready for blocking!

All sewed up!


And post-wash.(Please ignore my messy room. I promise I keep my room clean now. I make my bed every day!)

So it’s complete! I do love my sweater, despite it’s flaws. I do have three things to say, though.

1. I don’t care if you think it’s a waste of time, KNIT A GAUGE SWATCH IF YOU CARE AT ALL ABOUT YOUR GARMENT. Just do it. I do it now for every project.

2.Even though it takes forever, you will feel so proud after you complete a big project. It’s awesome.

3. Keep your pride and avoid Velcro, AT ALL COSTS. VELCRO IS YOUR ENEMY.

This is me, binding off.

georgeouthwaite  asked:

Hi Teagan, huge fan, when i'm using gouache I struggle to find a balance between keeping it pure enough to do detail and keep the opaque colour' and watery enough for it to flow smoothly. Any tips or is it just experience? It could be that my paints are quite old

I think a certain amount of effort put towards keeping the smoothness-to-opacity ratio in constant check is unavoidable, and just part of working with the medium. I spend a lot of time getting the paint consistency correct on my brush throughout my painting process, usually stopping every 1-5 minutes to reload my brush with paint and fussing to get it smooth. But there are a few things that I’ve found make it easier!

  • Keeping your paint from drying out while you work, since it’ll get gummy and flow less well the longer it sits out. I paint one color at a time so that I can finish using that color before it dries. My cheap & dirty tactic to combat drying time is to mix a blob of one color with a palette knife and push it into a little mound once it’s all mixed – the less surface area is exposed to the air, the slower it’ll dry. As I work the mound dries & forms a hardish outer shell with still-moist paint underneath, and I periodically kind of poke through it to draw fresh paint out as needed. 1-3 hours (depending on humidity) is usually the limit before I need to remix the color.
  • You can also try using a special palette that keeps paint from drying out. I recently bought this Sta-Wet palette which is set up so your palette paper sits on top of a wet sponge – I’m still getting used to it but so far it’s helping a lot! I know some people also keep paint wet by misting their palette with a spray bottle. You can also try using a retarder medium to slow dry time and loosen up the paint.
  • This may seem basic but make sure you’re cleaning your brush off often while you work! If it gets all loaded up with old paint you won’t get smooth lines anymore.
  • Another deceptively simple thing that you probably do already without thinking about it – Whenever I load more paint onto my brush, I always drag the brush along the palette surface a bit before lifting up & moving back over to my painting. This clears off any excess paint and helps reshape the brush’s bristles (for fine-tipped round brushes I actually sort of twirl the brush as I drag it, so that the hairs come to a perfect point and the brush is evenly coated in paint).
  • Are you using traditional gum arabic gouache, or acrylic gouache? I use Holbein acryla gouache & find that its a thinner, smooth consistency straight from the tube. I think you can get the same consistency from either one, gum arabic just needs to be watered down more. 
  • What white you use is important! Zinc white and chinese white are meant to be more transparent, while titanium white is fairly opaque.
  • Different brushes will give you different results. Personally I have trouble getting clean lines from round brushes, so I opt for angled or ones that come to a fine point. (And watercolor brushes should be used with gouache in most cases; acrylic brushes are too stiff, unless you want a lot of texture.) I also have to replace my brushes every couple months no matter how well I care for them, since I paint so much. Their precision seems to fade over time and I’ll find myself struggling to get clean lines until I buy a fresh one.
  • Depending on the color, I do sometimes have to do a light second layer if I want an area to be totally opaque, sometimes it’s just not going to be 100% solid from one coat. This is especially true if you’re painting any light colors over darker colors.
  • Honestly your problem could be the age of your paint, like you suggested. I noticed a decrease in quality after having some tubes of gum arabic gouache for a year or two (after like 4 years they were unusable). I haven’t had acryla gouache dry out on me, but I go through those tubes in the space of just a couple months.

Hope this helps! If anyone else has suggestions, feel free to leave them in the comments!

Two Prompt Tuesday #35

Prompt: It’s been occurring to me that I’d like to hang out with you for the rest of our lives.
Pairing: Dean x Reader
Word Count: 595
Warnings: None.

Two Prompt Tuesday Masterlist

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The Agony And The Ecstasy Of Cleaning Out Your Closet

I have spent a significant amount of time getting rid of clothes these last few weeks, and a small amount of time acquiring them. In my mind, when I imagine my wardrobe and the place it should occupy in my life, I now think largely in terms of proportions. I want a certain amount of this, a certain amount of that, and no waste. When I looked over the amount of money I’d spent on clothes over the past few months – clothes I barely wear! clothes that don’t even really fit me or look good! – I felt immensely disappointed in myself. And when I went through my closet and dresser with a cold, meticulous eye, I realized that I could count on my hands (and some of my toes) all of the everyday items that were truly worth keeping. I knew that if I wanted to embrace the #NeutralLife (as demonstrated in these pictures), and to have the kind of clean, refined wardrobe that would make me feel like that better version of myself, I would need to be severe in my actions.

I wrote here recently about the very select things I have recently purchased in an effort to have a closet full of versatile, neutral, wearable outfits. And since then, I have made exactly one more sartorial purchase. (I spent four hours around Union Square looking for the perfect pair of black jeans at a good price, and found an amazing pair at Burlington Coat Factory for a cool 19.99 – a perfect lesson in taking your time and not settling on the first thing you see, particularly when you set out with one specific item in mind.) But more important than the things I’m adding are the things I’m taking away. My interest in doing this closet overhaul – aside from finally giving me the kind of wardrobe that makes me feel like an Adult Woman whose personality shines through more than her awkward, overly feminine outfits – was simplifying my life. I want to make few purchases, and have them count. I want to always know what I have in my wardrobe, and therefore be able to plan efficiently. I want to wait for sales, and make the most of them. And to do that, one must eliminate excess and waste.

There are two major difficulties with getting rid of most of your clothes. One, it’s natural, when we’ve invested in something financially, to operate under the delusion that one day we will make use of them – even if we’ve never really used them before. We will keep things in the backs of our closets for years on end, even if they don’t fit or have never flattered us, simply because we don’t want to admit defeat. And taking that large chunk of your wardrobe, the things that you will never wear and honestly never should have purchased, is a bit of a blow to the ego. It feels sad, and you can’t help but think of all the money down the drain.

And two, we get irrationally attached to things that don’t really mean that much to us, clothing-wise, because we might appreciate them aesthetically. But something being pretty is quite different from something being pretty on us, and having nostalgia for an old shirt that never looked good on you is ridiculous. There is someone else out there for whom that objectively lovely, but personally unflattering, shirt will be a perfect fit. And for these two categories of clothes, I highly recommend taking them to a consignment/thrift/vintage store and getting some money or credit for them. (If you have the patience, eBay is also an option, but that is time-consuming and depends on the niceness of the clothes in question.) But if you’re really ready to give up all the stuff you’re not going to wear, there should be a significant amount of stuff fit for selling.

I had to do my own closet-cleaning in several stages, each round getting more and more ruthless. At first I only wanted to release the things that were so comically inappropriate for me they would have been ridiculous to keep. But once I made it to the final round, I realized I had a bunch of stuff that, theoretically, I could be wearing, but which just don’t look all that good on me. They’re things that don’t make me feel great when I’m wearing them, and honestly, it’s much better to have a few select items that all feel wonderful than a closet bursting with things that make you pull at your hems all day. Once I got through that last round, I was left with a very minimal rotation of clothes – jeans in a few colors, some basic skirts, a few dresses, and versatile tops. And despite the significant decrease in quantity, I find it much easier every morning to select an outfit. I know that nearly everything I could put on will feel nice, and go together (one of the great benefits of choosing almost exclusively neutral colors). It takes so much of the frustration out of looking through your things.

Ultimately, the most important element of saving money (and your own sanity) when it comes to your wardrobe, is to think of it as one cohesive thing. When you stop just purchasing things as you see them because you like them individually (except for rare treats), and start purchasing things as pieces to fit in a grander puzzle, you can plan out your spending and make sure that nothing you buy will be wasteful. You won’t have a closet full of disjointed, uncoordinated items, but rather a palette from which to choose your colors every morning. When you actually plan out (on a piece of paper, like I did) the elements that you need to have for your particular lifestyle, and spend a thoughtful amount of time choosing each one (hunting for deals, finding the best fit, etc), everything improves immediately.

I decided, starting this month, that I wanted to give myself 100 dollars per month (barring special occasions) to buy new clothes, which for a long time will mean adding a certain amount of key items to my closet as time goes on. If I plan it out well, I can buy a few high-quality items within that budget each month (Nordstrom Rack, Burlington Coat Factory, thrift stores, and online clearance sales are your friend). If there is something I absolutely MUST have that exceeds my budget, I have to wait at least a day on it. (This month, I’ve been obsessing over two rings in a little jewelry shop by my house that come to about 70 bucks. I could get them if I want to, but I don’t know if they’re worth it to me yet. I want to wait and see how I feel about them at the end of the month before I make the purchase.) Because ultimately, purchasing my clothes without thought or planning has been what has put me in the awful position of having an overstuffed, unsatisfying closet, and no sense of control over how it got that way.

And honestly, taking it slow feels so, so much better. 

Conrad Knickerbocker, Interview: William S. Burroughs, 35 The Paris Review (1965)
  • Interviewer: When and why did you start to write?
  • William S. Burroughs: I started to write in about 1950; I was thirty-five at the time; there didn't seem to be any strong motivation. I simply was endeavoring to put down in a more or less straightforward journalistic style something about my experiences with addiction and addicts.
  • Interviewer: Why did you start taking drugs?
  • William S. Burroughs: Well, I was just bored. I didn't seem to have much interest in becoming a successful advertising executive or whatever, or living the kind of life Harvard designs for you. After I became addicted in New York in 1944, things began to happen. I got in some trouble with the law, got married, moved to New Orleans, and then went to Mexico.
  • Interviewer: There seems to be a great deal of middle-class voyeurism in this country concerning addiction, and in the literary world, downright reverence for the addict. You apparently don't share these points of view.
  • William S. Burroughs: No, most of it is nonsense. I think drugs are interesting principally as chemical means of altering metabolism and thereby altering what we call reality, which I would define as a more or less constant scanning pattern.
  • Interviewer: What do you think of the hallucinogens and the new psychedelic drugs—LSD-25?
  • William S. Burroughs: I think they're extremely dangerous, much more dangerous than heroin. They can produce overwhelming anxiety states. I've seen people try to throw themselves out of windows; whereas the heroin addict is mainly interested in staring at his own toe. Other than deprivation of the drug, the main threat to him is an overdose. I've tried most of the hallucinogens without an anxiety reaction, fortunately. LSD-25 produced results for me similar to mescaline. Like all hallucinogens, LSD gave me an increased awareness, more a hallucinated viewpoint than any actual hallucination. You might look at a doorknob and it will appear to revolve, although you are conscious that this is the result of the drug. Also, van Goghish colors, with all those swirls, and the crackle of the universe.
  • Interviewer: Have you read Henri Michaux's book on mescaline?
  • William S. Burroughs: His idea was to go into his room and close the door and hold in the experiences. I had my most interesting experiences with mescaline when I got outdoors and walked around—colors, sunsets, gardens. It produces a terrible hangover, though, nasty stuff. It makes one ill and interferes with coordination. I've had all the interesting effects I need, and I don't want any repetition of those extremely unpleasant physical reactions.
  • Interviewer: The visions of drugs and the visions of art don't mix?
  • William S. Burroughs: Never. The hallucinogens produce visionary states, sort of, but morphine and its derivatives decrease awareness of inner processes, thoughts, and feelings. They are painkillers, pure and simple. They are absolutely contraindicated for creative work, and I include in the lot alcohol, morphine, barbiturates, tranquilizers—the whole spectrum of sedative drugs. As for visions and heroin, I had a hallucinatory period at the very beginning of addiction, for instance, a sense of moving at high speed through space. But as soon as addiction was established, I had no visions—vision—at all and very few dreams.
  • Interviewer: Why did you stop taking drugs?
  • William S. Burroughs: I was living in Tangier in 1957, and I had spent a month in a tiny room in the Casbah staring at the toe of my foot. The room had filled up with empty Eukodol cartons; I suddenly realized I was not doing anything. I was dying. I was just apt to be finished. So I flew to London and turned myself over to Dr. John Yerbury Dent for treatment. I'd heard of his success with the apomorphine treatment. Apomorphine is simply morphine boiled in hydrochloric acid; it's nonaddictive. What the apomorphine did was to regulate my metabolism. It's a metabolic regulator. It cured me physiologically. I'd already taken the cure once at Lexington, and although I was off drugs when I got out, there was a physiological residue. Apomorphine eliminated that. I've been trying to get people in this country interested in it, but without much luck. The vast majority—social workers, doctors—have the cop's mentality toward addiction. A probation officer in California wrote me recently to inquire about the apomorphine treatment. I'll answer him at length. I always answer letters like that.
  • Interviewer: Have you had any relapses?
  • William S. Burroughs: Yes, a couple. Short. Both were straightened out with apomorphine, and now heroin is no temptation for me. I'm just not interested. I've seen a lot of it around. I know people who are addicts. I don't have to use any willpower. Dr. Dent always said there is no such thing as willpower. You've got to reach a state of mind in which you don't want it or need it.
  • Interviewer: You regard addiction as an illness but also a central human fact, a drama?
  • William S. Burroughs: Both, absolutely. It's as simple as the way in which anyone happens to become an alcoholic. They start drinking, that's all. They like it, and they drink, and then they become alcoholic. I was exposed to heroin in New York—that is, I was going around with people who were using it; I took it; the effects were pleasant. I went on using it and became addicted. Remember that if it can be readily obtained, you will have any number of addicts. The idea that addiction is somehow a psychological illness is, I think, totally ridiculous. It's as psychological as malaria. It's a matter of exposure. People, generally speaking, will take any intoxicant or any drug that gives them a pleasant effect if it is available to them. In Iran, for instance, opium was sold in shops until quite recently, and they had three million addicts in a population of twenty million. There are also all forms of spiritual addiction. Anything that can be done chemically can be done in other ways, that is, if we have sufficient knowledge of the processes involved. Many policemen and narcotics agents are precisely addicted to power, to exercising a certain nasty kind of power over people who are helpless. The nasty sort of power-- white junk, I call it—rightness; they're right, right, right—and if they lost that power, they would suffer excruciating withdrawal symptoms. The picture we get of the whole Russian bureaucracy, people who are exclusively preoccupied with power and advantage, this must be an addiction. Suppose they lose it? Well, it's been their whole life.
  • Interviewer: Can you amplify your idea of junk as image?
  • William S. Burroughs: It's only a theory and, I feel, an inadequate one. I don't think anyone really understands what a narcotic is or how it works, how it kills pain. My idea is sort of a stab in the dark. As I see it, what has been damaged in pain is, of course, the image, and morphine must in some sense replace this. We know it blankets the cells and that addicts are practically immune to certain viruses, to influenza and respiratory complaints. This is simple because the influenza virus has to make a hole in the cell receptors. When those are covered, as they are in morphine addiction, the virus can't get in. As soon as morphine is withdrawn, addicts will immediately come down with colds and often with influenza.
  • Interviewer: Certain schizophrenics also resist respiratory disease.
  • William S. Burroughs: A long time ago I suggested there were similarities in terminal addiction and terminal schizophrenia. That was why I made the suggestion that they addict these people to heroin, then withdraw it and see if they could be motivated; in other words, find out whether they'd walk across the room and pick up a syringe. Needless to say, I didn't get very far, but I think it would be interesting.
  • Interviewer: Narcotics, then, disturb normal perception—
  • William S. Burroughs: And set up instead a random craving for images. If drugs weren't forbidden in America, they would be the perfect middle-class vice. Addicts would do their work and come home to consume the huge dose of images awaiting them in the mass media. Junkies love to look at television. Billie Holiday said she knew she was going off drugs when she didn't like to watch TV. Or they'll sit and read a newspaper or magazine, and by God, read it all. I knew this old junkie in New York, and he'd go out and get a lot of newspapers and magazines and some candy bars and several packages of cigarettes and then he'd sit in his room and he'd read those newspapers and magazines right straight through. Indiscriminately. Every word.
  • Interviewer: Marshall McLuhan said that you believed heroin was needed to turn the human body into an environment that includes the universe. But from what you've told me, you're not at all interested in turning the body into an environment.
  • William S. Burroughs: No, junk narrows consciousness. The only benefit to me as a writer (aside from putting me into contact with the whole carny world) came to me after I went off it. What I want to do is to learn to see more of what's out there, to look outside, to achieve as far as possible a complete awareness of surroundings. Beckett wants to go inward. First he was in a bottle and now he is in the mud. I am aimed in the other direction—outward.
  • Interviewer: Mary McCarthy has commented on the carnival origins of your characters in Naked Lunch. What are their other derivations?
  • William S. Burroughs: The carny world was the one I exactly intended to create—a kind of midwestern, small-town, cracker-barrel, pratfall type of folklore, very much my own background. That world was an integral part of America and existed nowhere else, at least not in the same form. My family was southern on my mother's side. My grandfather was a circuit-riding Methodist minister with thirteen children. Most of them went up to New York and became quite successful in advertising and public relations. One of them, an uncle, was a master image maker, Ivy Lee, Rockefeller's publicity manager.
  • Interviewer: Earlier you mentioned that if junk had done nothing else, it at least put you in contact with the carny world.
  • William S. Burroughs: Yes, the underworld, the old-time thieves, pickpockets, and people like that. They're a dying race; very few of those old-timers left. Yeah, well, they were show business.
  • Interviewer: What's the difference between the modern junkie versus the 1944 junkie?
  • William S. Burroughs: For one thing, all these young addicts; that was quite unknown in 1944. Most of the ones I knew were middle-aged men or old. I knew some of the old-time pickpockets and sneak thieves and shortchange artists. They had something called The Bill, a shortchange deal. I've never been able to figure out how it works. One man I knew beat all the cashiers in Grand Central with this thing. It starts with a twenty-dollar bill. You give them a twenty-dollar bill and then when you get the change you say, “Well, wait a minute, I must have been dreaming, I've got the change after all.” First thing you know, the cashier's short ten dollars. One day this shortchange artist went to Grand Central, even though he knew it was burned down, but he wanted to change twenty dollars. Well, a guy got on the buzzer and they arrested him. When they got up in court and tried to explain what had happened, none of them could do it. I keep stories like this in my files.
  • Interviewer: Do you think of the artist at all as being a con man?
  • William S. Burroughs: In a sense. You see, a real con man is a creator. He creates a set. No, a con man is more a movie director than a writer. The Yellow Kid created a whole set, a whole cast of characters, a whole brokerage house, a whole bank. It was just like a movie studio.
  • Interviewer: What about addicts?
  • William S. Burroughs: Well, there will be a lot of morphine addiction. Remember that there were a great many addicts at that time. Jesse James was an addict. He started using morphine for a wound in his lung, and I don't know whether he was permanently addicted, but he tried to kill himself. He took sixteen grains of morphine and it didn't kill him, which indicates a terrific tolerance. So he must have been fairly heavily addicted. A dumb, brutal hick; that's what he was, like Dillinger. And there were so many genteel old ladies who didn't feel right unless they had their Dr. Jones mixture every day.
  • Interviewer: What other character types interest you?
  • William S. Burroughs: Not the people in advertising and television, nor the American postman or middle-class housewife; not the young man setting forth. The whole world of high finance interests me, the men such as Rockefeller who were specialized types of organisms that could exist in a certain environment. He was really a moneymaking machine, but I doubt that he could have made a dime today because he required the old laissez-faire capitalism. He was a specialized monopolistic organism. My uncle Ivy created images for him. I fail to understand why people like J. Paul Getty have to come on with such a stuffy, uninteresting image. He decides to write his life history. I've never read anything so dull, so absolutely devoid of any spark. Well, after all, he was quite a playboy in his youth. There must have been something going on. None of it's in the book. Here he is, the only man of enormous wealth who operates alone, but there's nobody to present the image. Well, yes, I wouldn't mind doing that sort of job myself. I'd like to take somebody like Getty and try to find an image for him that would be of some interest. If Getty wants to build an image, why doesn't he hire a first-class writer to write his story? For that matter, advertising has a long way to go. I'd like to see a story by Norman Mailer or John O'Hara which just makes some mention of a product, say, Southern Comfort. I can see the O'Hara story. It would be about someone who went into a bar and asked for Southern Comfort; they didn't have it, and he gets into a long, stupid argument with the bartender. It shouldn't be obtrusive; the story must be interesting in itself so that people read this just as they read any story in Playboy, and Southern Comfort would be guaranteed that people will look at that advertisement for a certain number of minutes. You see what I mean? They'll read the story. Now, there are many other ideas; you could have serialized comic strips, serial stories. Well, all we have to do is have James Bond smoking a certain brand of cigarettes.
  • Interviewer: In some respects, Nova Express seems to be a prescription for social ailments. Do you see the need, for instance, of biologic courts in the future?
  • William S. Burroughs: Certainly. Science eventually will be forced to establish courts of biologic mediation, because life-forms are going to become more incompatible with the conditions of existence as man penetrates further into space. Mankind will have to undergo biologic alterations ultimately, if we are to survive at all. This will require biologic law to decide what changes to make. We will simply have to use our intelligence to plan mutations, rather than letting them occur at random. Because many such mutations—look at the saber-toothed tiger—are bound to be very poor engineering designs. The future, decidedly, yes. I think there are innumerable possibilities, literally innumerable. The hope lies in the development of nonbody experience and eventually getting away from the body itself, away from three-dimensional coordinates and concomitant animal reactions of fear and flight, which lead inevitably to tribal feuds and dissension.
  • Interviewer: You see hope for the human race, but at the same time you are alarmed as the instruments of control become more sophisticated.
  • William S. Burroughs: Well, whereas they become more sophisticated they also become more vulnerable. Time, Life, Fortune applies a more complex, effective control system than the Mayan calendar, but it also is much more vulnerable because it is so vast and mechanized. Not even Henry Luce understands what's going on in the system now. Well, a machine can be redirected. One technical sergeant can fuck up the whole works. Nobody can control the whole operation. It's too complex. The captain comes in and says, “All right, boys, we're moving up.” Now, who knows what buttons to push? Who knows how to get the cases of Spam up to where they're going, and how to fill out the forms? The sergeant does. The captain doesn't know. As long as there're sergeants around, the machine can be dismantled, and we may get out of all this alive yet.
  • Interviewer: Sex seems equated with death frequently in your work.
  • William S. Burroughs: That is an extension of the idea of sex as a biologic weapon. I feel that sex, like practically every other human manifestation, has been degraded for control purposes, or really for antihuman purposes. This whole Puritanism. How are we ever going to find out anything about sex scientifically, when a priori the subject cannot even be investigated? It can't even be thought about or written about. That was one of the interesting things about Reich. He was one of the few people who ever tried to investigate sex—sexual phenomena, from a scientific point of view. There's this prurience and this fear of sex. We know nothing about sex. What is it? Why is it pleasurable? What is pleasure? Relief from tension? Well, possibly.
  • Interviewer: Mary McCarthy has characterized you as a soured utopian. Is that accurate?
  • William S. Burroughs: I do definitely mean what I say to be taken literally, yes, to make people aware of the true criminality of our times, to wise up the marks. All of my work is directed against those who are bent, through stupidity or design, on blowing up the planet or rendering it uninhabitable. Like the advertising people we talked about, I'm concerned with the precise manipulation of word and image to create an action, not to go out and buy a Coca-Cola, but to create an alteration in the reader's consciousness. You know, they ask me if I were on a desert island and knew nobody would ever see what I wrote, would I go on writing. My answer is most emphatically yes. I would go on writing for company. Because I'm creating an imaginary—it's always imaginary—world in which I would like to live.
Briste | Chapter 4

Briste | Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

It had been a week since the successful hand surgery. I couldn’t leave him alone. Everyday, I would go straight to his room, pretend to check his hand and just talk to him.

He still hadn’t woken.

The medications had been gradually decreased, to the point that now he no longer was in a medically induced coma for the surgeries and recovery. It was up to him now to wake up for us.

I desperately wanted to know the color of his eyes and the sound of his voice. I ached to know just as much as I ached to be loved. When I was next to him I felt calm, content, and not as depressed. Maybe it was knowing others had it worse than I did, or it was his very presence bringing me calm, I didn’t know. What I did know, was that this young man had become the center of my world.

After lunch I was checking the stitches on my Scot’s hand, when the door closed and a feminine cough broke through my concentration. I turned to face her. She was petite with long black hair and piercing blue eyes.

My heart dropped to my stomach. This had to be his wife. The beautiful nameless man was no longer available for my fantasies. Why should he be? He was a patient first and foremost, but seeing this beautiful—pregnant—woman who clearly loves him more than life itself made me wish I had never set foot in the room. I had never seen the man’s eyes or heard his voice, but I knew I was attracted to him, more than I should have been. He didn’t wear a ring, but she did. A beautiful sapphire engagement solitaire accompanied the simple gold band on her left hand.

I could feel the tears prick at the back of my eyes. Oh God! I knew the feelings I’d felt since the day I met him were too good to be true, that my body only reacted on a chemical level, and not some fantasy of fate and soul mate knowing.

“Hello,” I said approaching the woman. “Can I be of any assistance to you?”

She smiled at me, but it didn’t reach or soften the glare in her eyes. “Are ye his doctor?” The thick Scottish brogue was not what I had been expecting from her.

Temporarily shocked, it took me a beat too long to nod my head. “Are ye sure? He doesna need someone who can’t even think or talk clearly looking after him! I’ll be sure to have you fired from the case if ye’ve done a single thing to impede his healing.”

Her hands were in fists at her hips as she stared me down.

“I am one of his doctors. I’m Doctor Beauchamp. I am the surgeon who repaired his hand. He has two different doctors treating him for his other injuries.” I motioned to the hand I just been examining. “Do you know him?”

She scoffed in a distinctly Scottish tone. “Oh aye! Of course I know him!” She rested a hand on her protruding belly; my heart clenched. Of course she knew him and this subtle move was all the confirmation I needed. He was the father of her child and her husband.

Another ficlet inspired by Lee and his amazing art. I should be catching up on prompts but instead I’m writing Spog fanfic, I hope you’re happy Moose! This is what I’ve been reduced too! Anyways Specs/Cog fanfic, loosely based around a personal idea of how Specs might react to Cogs short hair and how much I love Specs ears.

“Cog have ye–” Specs had strode into the shorter man’s workshop with every intent to ask if the mechanic wiz had seen one of his books but the words never made it out of his mouth. 

The dark skinned man was bent over a table covered in numerous little metal gadgets and doodads but that was nothing new. It was his hair, or more so his lack of hair. 

Cog’s normal frizzy afro was nowhere to be found, instead Cog’s head was shaved. Not completely mind you, there was still a good amount of fuzz on the mechanics head but the stark difference had thrown Specs for a moment. 

While Specs had already found the shorter man attractive the haircut had only increased it tenfold. With his hair sheared it only enhanced Cogs manliness. It gave him a bit more of a rugged look and Specs liked it. A lot. 

“Oh, hey Specs.” Cog greeted casually looking up from whatever he had been tinkering with. While his fingers continued to fiddle with the little metal doohickey in his hand his eyes watched the taller male curiously. 

Specs face was flushing a light pink, his pointed ears lowering slightly and his throat was moving as if he was trying to speak but couldn’t. Cog wondered if Specs realized that he had brought his hands up to his chest and had begun to absentmindedly interlock his gloved fingers before untangling them and repeating the process. 

“C-Cog, yer hair? What happened?” Specs stuttered his mouth not wanting to cooperate with his brain. 

Cog reached up and played with the short locks as if he had forgotten about its decreased length. 

“It just got a little burned, it looked weird so I figured it’d be best just to get rid of it all y'know?” Cog said his eyes tracking the little fluttery movement of Specs ears with interest. “Do ya like it?" 

Specs nodded jerkily and his cheeks color deepening. Cog just smiled at the other mans shy antics. 

"Did ya need somethin?" 

Specs startled and his brain began to panic as he couldn’t remember the reason he’d entered the mechanics domain in the first place. 

‘I-I, uhh I just needed to ask” As specs stuttered along with his explanation, Cog stood and wiped the grime from his hands on an oil stained rag. 

Specs only grew more jittery as Cogs tossed the rag onto a workbench and made his way closer to the taller male. Specs fingers unconsciously began to fidget faster.  

Cog stopped just a foot or so away from his teammate. Specs was staring at the floor now, word vomit still spilling from his mouth as he failed to calm his nerves. 

Cog reached up and gently pinched the tip of one Specs elf like ears between his forefinger and thumb. 

Specs yelped and stumbled backwards, both hands slapping over his ears as if to protect them from further probing. As he walked backwards his foot caught on a stray tool and the tall scotsman went tumbling to the ground with a surprised squeak. 

Cog walked over and easily scooped the taller man off the ground. The dark skinned man smiled with amusement as Specs entire face went red. The scotsmans hands were clutched over his chest. His pointed ears were also dusted pink and drooped so low they almost level with Cogs lips. 

Specs had begun to speak again, jumbled words and thick accent making a mess of whatever he was saying. 

Cog craned his neck forward and placed a soft kiss against the tip of Specs ear. 

Specs went quiet before making a sounds that sounded suspiciously like squealing and hiding his face in his hands. He shook his head rapidly and began mumbling. His words were indecipherable between the muffling of his medical mask and his hands 

Cogs only laughed as he watched the larger man grow more flustered and he pressed another kiss against the hands hiding Specs face. He then took advantage of the scotsman’s unprotected ears and gave one a nibble. 

Neither of them were expecting Specs body to jolt and through Cogs balance off and send them toppling back into one of the many work tables set up. The atble and both men fell to the ground with a loud crash.

Maybe later they’d laugh about it, but ,most likely, not until after all the bumps and bruises had healed. 

I hope this was okay, feel free to send me a prompt!

queenofthefaces  asked:

I am terrible at guessing height with characters. According to the wiki, Kinshiro is 176 cm, Akoya is 179 cm, and Arima is 184 cm. What would the heights of the Battle Lovers be near to? (A few of the references I've found don't always match up) Thanks!

Unfortunately, I do not have the best answer for this. ;; The Conquest Club’s are confirmed to be true because I miss you no 3 meters had shipped with a 3 meter ruler, and once it approached their heights, they were circled by their respective character colors. From what I know, the Defense Club heights have not been released. 

From eyeballing, their ages, their birthdays, game heights, and the Conquest Club, I gather the relative heights of all the characters in order from decreasing height: Arima - En - Atsushi - Akoya - Io - Ryuu - Kusatsu - Yumoto

En-Atsushi-Akoya is a little iffy, because at times, Akoya is drawn to the same height or even taller than either character. Akoya is consistently taller than Io and Ryuu though. Kusatsu is sometimes drawn to be about Ryuu or even Io’s height, but he’s supposed to be smaller than them too, I think?

Mapping How Emotions Manifest in the Body,” from The Atlantic.  Where do emotions seem to happen? What parts of the body do they fill up and heat? What parts do they leave empty and cold? “Across five experiments, 701 participants…were asked to color the bodily regions whose activity they felt increasing or decreasing while viewing each stimulus.” Look at happiness: warm all over. Look at love: the same, but with more belly action. Now look at depression: a black blank with cold blue extremities. And shame–if I ever had any doubt that shame was about seeing and being seen, well.

Tfw you try to make a birthday gift on time but that don’t work out for you.
But belated (two days late by 30ish minutes rip) birthday gift for @kludges!!!!!!!!

I’ve had this sketch sitting around for a long LONG time and finally got it nice and finished and when commuting to school I had the idea for the background, so *click* nice.

This is also a huge af file, it was larger, I decreased it nicely, even though it was a struggle because maintaining pixels rip,,,,,,,,,,
lets also forget i didnt rly blend the shading in the black fur, that was too much


Hello! I’m Menta. For a few months, I’ve had a big personal Voltron project in mind– and after some thinking, I realized, why not include other artists as well? Not only does it drastically decrease my workload, but I’ll get the opportunity to work together with a bunch of you! 

So, without further delays, the project I have in mind is a short MAP-collaboration. The aim is to draw full-colored pictures, complete with backgrounds, in accordance to song lyrics. Like MAP’s, I’d like the lyrics to be included in the picture, but animation is not a requirement. The reason being is that I’m throwing this together very quickly, and I understand that still pictures are much quicker to make than animations. If you can and are willing to animate, please be my guest!

I’ll be accepting artists through an application process. Here are things to know before applying. Please make sure to read them, just so there aren’t confusions later on.

How to Apply

  1. My e-mail is Please e-mail me your application through there.
  2. Your application should include your most recent artwork (about 3-5 pieces is a good number), or artwork that you think would give me a good idea of what I should expect your style to be. Feel free to include animations also, if you are planning to do them.
  3. Include a name or alias that I’ll be able to credit you by. Additionally, please link me to the website you use most frequently to post your art.
  4. Wait for a confirmation or declination. This shouldn’t take more than a few days!
  5. If you’re accepted, I’ll email you the song lyrics, and which parts are available. Please pick one part to draw artwork for. The maximum number of parts you can pick are 2.


  • The deadline for applications is a week from now,  on November 5th. The deadline for your finished pieces is on December 17th. 
  • No NSFW, or suggestive themes. Also, please don’t add extensive gore. 
  • Please avoid ships. I have nothing against them, but the song that I’ve picked for this sort-of MAP is Hey Brother by Avicii, and I believe the theme is directed more towards familial/ platonic love than romantic love.
  • If you’re unable to complete your piece by the deadline, e-mail me so we both can come up with a another deadline that suits your schedule.
  • If you have any questions, message me or @dorks-in-fiction. Either of us should be able to help with whatever problems or concerns you’re facing!

Thank you so much for your time!! I look forward to working with all of you, and am very, very excited to tackle this project!