Listening devices in space have picked up what seems to be a very large collective sigh (of mixed emotions however, the more prominent ones being ‘relief’ and ‘finally oh gawd this boy is killing me’), originating from Earth.
In other news, the Blackberry finally talks to his space dad. (Work-in-progress? Idk, I might not finish it)
I think you can just throw yourself at the internet’s mercy and be part of social media and get into a room with people who wanna fuck you, kill you, maybe some both at the same time, or you just take a little step back and do your own thing in your own world.
“I was very nervous about doing the Entertainment Weekly cover, because I thought, ‘Okay, this is the first taste, this is the first visual moment.’ By then I obviously knew a lot of the more iconic moments in his comic history, but still it’s me. It’s not a drawing, it’s not an artist; it’s me and I’m kinda frightened, but it seemed to go down really well and Kevin and everyone was happy and I just kinda stepped back and I went, ‘Great’ and settled into the job.” (x)
It will be almost a month since you wrote to me and you have possibly forgotten your state of mind (I doubt it though). You seem the same as always, and being you, hate every minute of it. Don’t! Learn to say “Fuck You” to the world once in a while. You have every right to. Just stop thinking, worrying, looking over your shoulder wondering, doubting, fearing, hurting, hoping for some easy way out, struggling, grasping, confusing, itchin, scratching, mumbling, bumbling, grumbling, humbling, stumbling, numbling, rumbling, gambling, tumbling, scumbling, scrambling, hitching, hatching, bitching, moaning, groaning, honing, boning, horse-shitting, hair-splitting, nit-picking, piss-trickling, nose sticking, ass-gouging, eyeball-poking, finger-pointing, alleyway-sneaking, long waiting, small stepping, evil-eyeing, back-scratching, searching, perching, besmirching, grinding, grinding, grinding away at yourself. Stop it and just DO!
From your description, and from what I know of your previous work and you [sic] ability; the work you are doing sounds very good “Drawing-clean-clear but crazy like machines, larger and bolder… real nonsense.” That sounds fine, wonderful – real nonsense. Do more. More nonsensical, more crazy, more machines, more breasts, penises, cunts, whatever – make them abound with nonsense. Try and tickle something inside you, your “weird humor.” You belong in the most secret part of you. Don’t worry about cool, make your own uncool. Make your own, your own world. If you fear, make it work for you – draw & paint your fear and anxiety. And stop worrying about big, deep things such as “to decide on a purpose and way of life, a consistant [sic] approach to even some impossible end or even an imagined end” You must practice being stupid, dumb, unthinking, empty. Then you will be able to DO!
I have much confidence in you and even though you are tormenting yourself, the work you do is very good. Try to do some BAD work – the worst you can think of and see what happens but mainly relax and let everything go to hell – you are not responsible for the world – you are only responsible for your work – so DO IT. And don’t think that your work has to conform to any preconceived form, idea or flavor. It can be anything you want it to be. But if life would be easier for you if you stopped working – then stop. Don’t punish yourself. However, I think that it is so deeply engrained in you that it would be easier to DO!
It seems I do understand your attitude somewhat, anyway, because I go through a similar process every so often. I have an “Agonizing Reappraisal” of my work and change everything as much as possible = and hate everything I’ve done, and try to do something entirely different and better. Maybe that kind of process is necessary to me, pushing me on and on. The feeling that I can do better than that shit I just did. Maybe you need your agony to accomplish what you do. And maybe it goads you on to do better. But it is very painful I know. It would be better if you had the confidence just to do the stuff and not even think about it. Can’t you leave the “world” and “ART” alone and also quit fondling your ego. I know that you (or anyone) can only work so much and the rest of the time you are left with your thoughts. But when you work or before your work you have to empty you [sic] mind and concentrate on what you are doing. After you do something it is done and that’s that. After a while you can see some are better than others but also you can see what direction you are going. I’m sure you know all that. You also must know that you don’t have to justify your work – not even to yourself. Well, you know I admire your work greatly and can’t understand why you are so bothered by it. But you can see the next ones and I can’t. You also must believe in your ability. I think you do. So try the most outrageous things you can – shock yourself. You have at your power the ability to do anything.
I would like to see your work and will have to be content to wait until Aug or Sept. I have seen photos of some of Tom’s new things at Lucy’s. They are impressive – especially the ones with the more rigorous form: the simpler ones. I guess he’ll send some more later on. Let me know how the shows are going and that kind of stuff.
My work had changed since you left and it is much better. I will be having a show May 4 -9 at the Daniels Gallery 17 E 64yh St (where Emmerich was), I wish you could be there. Much love to you both.
3. And there’s this poorly written, overwrought, over-italicized little drabble thing. (I apologize in advance. Shrug. I BLAME ALL THE COLD MEDICINE.)
She doesn’t let go of him, after, needing the warmth of his skin, or the worn-in softness of his shirt against her fingers at all times. Scott, still wiping tears from his eyes, had hugged his best friend one last fierce time, stepping back, wanting to give the Sheriff and Stiles some time, some space.
Lydia, however, cannot bear the idea of him leaving her sight. Instead, she climbs wearily into the backseat of the sheriff’s SUV, to no one’s apparent surprise, keeping her eyes locked on the blinking, disoriented boy in the passenger’s seat, terrified he’ll disappear again if she so much as glances away.
They step, hand in hand, through the threshold to Stiles’ room, now supernaturally returned to its usual state. Her chest tightens uncomfortably, recalling just days ago, when this very room was a dusty, cordoned-off shell of a space, not brimming with the debris of teenaged boy. Her breath hitches as she takes in the All Time Low poster on the wall, the muddy lacrosse cleats kicked into the corner, the hoodie thrown haphazardly over the computer chair - all the minutiae of Stiles, of Stiles being a part of this world. Of her world.
Okay so, you’re all well aware that I know basically nothing about Dark Souls’ lore except for what I’ve learn from a very rushed run through DS1 and the one I’m currently doing in DS3 buuuut…
I just reached the top of the Grand Archives and learned about (ANOTHER) possible child of Gwynevere, Gertrude. So I took a step back and started to count all the wannabe children of the Goddess, and also thought of what the item description says about Aldrich dreaming of a ‘pale girl’ while devouring Gwyndolin. Of course, my first guess was Priscilla, but then I met Yorshka (which is basically Priscilla… XD) and only a few minutes ago I re-watched the new gameplay trailer for Ashes of Ariandel and…
And now, I’m just sitting here, laughing my ass off, thinking that if the scythe-wielding lady is (not Yorshka, not Priscilla, to which the life-hunt scythe belonged in DS1, but…) ACTUALLY Gertrude…
Then Miyazaki would have a
sense of humor even worse than mine, because you all know that I named Gehrman’s genderbend… Ge(h)rtrude :P
(and Lady Maria would be Mario, but let‘s pretend I said nothing…)
He’s not coming back as a series regular, or a recurring guest star. He’s coming back for a set number of episodes to finish out a supremely unpopular storyline that left a lot of fans feeling angry and unsettled and salty.
Just…let us have this, please? Let us be glad that we have a bone thrown to us. It doesn’t destroy any of your ships to know that Dead Robin has some unfinished business in a season that’s dedicated to unfinished business. Just step back and let us enjoy the fact that the father and the lover and the husband and the fighter wasn’t sent into an ether of nothingness. Our happiness at this announcement has nothing to do with any other ships on the show…it’s just a little small blooming flower of hope that the show didn’t forget that Robin, once upon a time, was a great character and we miss him.
why did this random idea of rick and michonne pop into my head of them going to the kingdom and ezekiel hits on michonne and she’s not having it so rick steps in like back the fuck up bruh and then later he tells her he’s sorry about how he acted but he only did it because of what whori, oops i mean, lori did to him and he cant bare even the thought of another man looking at michonne or he’ll kill him and michonne smiles and shakes her head at him and hugs him and she tells him there’s no other man on the earth for her and that even if he died she’d never be with anyone ever again and rick kisses her and they make love under the stars im trash
I was a born and raised catholic and The Catholic Guilt™ in me is strong. When you practice, do you ever feel like a little voice in the back of your mind is telling you that witchcraft is wrong and sinful? 'Cause I just don't know how to shake that feeling off.
Since I did not grow up Catholic, I do not have much of that on a regular basis, but I have experienced it. I got through it by praying to God, asking for His love and a sign that I am on the right path for me.
Hugs. If this is meant for you, you will shake it off. You will find a home in all aspects your faith. But it will come back time to time.
Doubt is a good thing! It gives us a chance to step back, look objectively at our choices, exercise our free will, and receive the proper guidance from God.
ok but like in the past month i have had 3 performance exams and had audition for university next year, and i didn’t realise this until a great friend pointed it out - but im fucking proud of myself and my playing right now! i’ve spent so much of this year worrying about my playing and my grades, and what other people think of my playing, and today i’ve finally taken a step back and said hang on, i did really well in that exam today!! this one was worth like 50% of my music grade for high school, and quite frankly i don’t even care what i grade get because I’m just over the moon that i’m finally in a good place with my playing, that I’m finally proud of myself and that all the hard work over the past 7 years has been worth it.
Y’all - when you come into my inbox freaking out because you’ve missed a workout, I’m not gonna give you a long reassuring speech about how it won’t have any effect on your progress or whatever. Despite it blatantly being what you want to hear, it’s not the answer to your problem. If missing a workout is giving you that much anxiety, you need to take a step back and reevaluate your state of mind. I mean this in the kindest way possible, but I am fucking done playing along with this kind of disordered bullshit.
It had been a few days since Ginny had left Olivers flat, and she had sent him her first owl that morning, charming the parchment to make it read out her message as soon as he opened it. Having to leave for a match shortly after sending it, she hadn’t received a reply yet. The match had gone for ages, and Ginny finally made her way home after midnight. She perked up somewhat when her owl had returned with a message from Oliver though, and she quickly ripped it open. The second she read the message though, her blood seemed to run cold, and she had disapparated before she even finished reading the note.
“What?” Ginny repeated, pushing past him and stepping into his flat. “You said you’d be alright, and then I get this?” she demanded, pushing against his chest, feeling exhausted and vulnerable. “What the hell am I supposed to think about that?”
Oliver took a step back as she pushed against him, clearing the way for Ginny to walk into the flat. He frowned at the anger and hurt in her voice. “What?” he echoed, more than a little confused. He recognized her voice immediately, of course. It was impossible not to.
“Ginny, what tha hell are ya talkin’ about?” he asked, brow furrowing. He thought back to the note he’d written, trying to decide what he could have said that would have possibly upset her so much. “I wrote back, didn’t I? Did I not send it?” he asked, his confusion obvious. Maybe he had attached trash to the owl instead of the parchment? “What’d I do wrong?”
He is toddling She is tipsy No no She is toddling He is tipsy Oh brooding Example example Tipsy toddling Toddling She is stepping back He is moving forward Voice raised in his fists Her laughter razor thin
I think the hardest thing about running, at least what I’m struggling with most right now, is when you are making improvements but you’re still not where you want to be. It’s hard to find the balance where you can be proud of how far you’ve come, but not being complacent because you still have so much further to go. Running a faster last rep than the week before, pushing through that mental block for a little longer, it all adds up slowly but surely. But it’s hard because it doesn’t come together overnight, and because sometimes, especially lately, it seems like it’s one step forward, two steps back.
“I am trying to let the space between where I am and where I want to be inspire me and not terrify me.” And I am also trying to be okay with slow but steady progress, and trust that this will take me where I hope to go.
I FEEL BAD SENDING ANOTHER ONE ALREADY BUT "person a seducing person b into taking a few steps back/backing them against the wall (”oh look, how did that mistletoe get right there????”)" for Nina/Matthias bcuz I know you'll make it awesome
It’s his own fault.
It’s also her fault, the witch, the seductress, the bane of his very existence.
But it’s definitely mostly his fault, for looking at her, for letting her know that he was looking at her. He’s not subtle. And she’s too much to ignore, the shape of her hips in that lilac dress, the plunge of cleavage, the way her hair rests perfectly on her bare shoulders.
Matthias can’t stand her. She clogs his nostrils and his thoughts.
Which is how she corners him the way she does, using her hips to bewitch him by forcing him to stumble back a couple of steps. A few of the other party goers laugh a bit at the spectacle: large Matthias running away from pretty Nina.
“I didn’t peg you for the ugly sweater type, Matthias.” Her smile is equal parts mocking and delighted. She reaches out and plucks at the green yarn of his sweater.
“It’s not ugly.”
It’s large and warm, and perhaps a little too bright for him. The Christmas tree on the front might have been too much, but it was a holiday party.
He just really likes the sweater.
“It’s very ugly, and yet very fitting.” Her eyes sweep over him, and he’s got the oddest feeling that she means fitting very differently than he wants to believe.
“You’ve been drinking, Zenik.”
Her very shapely mouth formed itself into a pout. He doesn’t want to think about her lips and how soft they would be and the taste of her alcohol on them. These are not the kind of thoughts he wants to have about her.
“One drink.” Her eyes flicker up now, her green gaze more alive than anything he’s ever seen before. They light up even brighter than the gaudy Christmas tree. “Oops, we walked right into the mistletoe.”
His face heats up without meaning to, his teeth grinding together. She meant to do that. Of course she did. This is Nina Zenik they are talking about. Matthias sighs and steps to the side, away from the accursed plant, but it’s as if she anticipates this from him. She dances around him and forces him back into the doorway. The wood digs sharply into his back, even through the sweater.
She’s just a girl. A pretty one. Beautiful, really.
He feels like a caged dog.
“Mistletoe, Matthias. Don’t they teach you about upholding traditions?” Nina laughs, and it’s every sweet song he’s ever heard.
He glowers at her. “This is a silly tradition.”
“Yeah?” She swaggers when she closes the distance between them, and he hates her even more.
Men - and women - would kill to be forced into a corner by her, to have all that she’s offering up in that dress. But Matthias can’t take his eyes off of her face - well, except for maybe the occasional glance. There’s a rosy glow in her cheeks, pure joy humming through her whole body.
“I thought you liked silly traditions.”
“My traditions are not silly,” he mutters.
She raises a perfect eyebrow at him.
“If I kiss you, will you leave me alone?”
“Maybe,” she teases.
It’s the best answer he’s going to get. It’s no hardship, though, to lean down and close the distance between them. His mouth is against hers in an instant, far faster than he anticipated. He expects it to be a quick peck and she’ll laugh as he makes his escape.
He doesn’t move away, and her lips taste like apples. His hands find her hips far too easily. He doesn’t like how long he’s been imagining this, they exact placement of her body against his. Nothing about Nina is supposed to appeal to him. Her fingers are like wildfires as her hands slide over his shoulders, his neck, his face, until they bury into his hair and tug at his scalp. She moves closer to him, kissing him harder, bringing him against her.
And then she’s gone, a breathless laugh on her lips. She takes a bow, but never breaks eye contact with him. “I am a woman of my word.”
Matthias growls. “Since when?”
“Since now.” She tugs at that loose string of yarn, breaking it off before making her escape.
So many people seem down recently, and I just- I really wish there was something I could do to help.. I’m trying to, but there’s really only so much someone can do digitally. If I could drive or fly over to any of your homes, I absolutely would. I would make you all cookies and a warm drink, and cuddle you for days under soft fluffy blankets..
I’m sending all of my love out to those of you who haven’t been feeling 100% lately, and wishing the best of luck to those who need it. I love you guys, I really do..! Please, take care of yourselves! Take a nap or just sit back and relax a bit if you have the time, and make sure you’re eating enough and staying hydrated..~ It’s okay to take a break or step back for a bit.. We’ll still be here for you when you return~