blah i was bored

I’m bored and I want to draw...

I just watch Captain Underpants (WHICH I LOVE WITH ALL OF MY HEART BY THE WAY, SO AWESOME!) and I want to draw so much stuff for it. But I have no idea what. I have some free time so for the first time since forever, I am now accepting free ask requests for Captain Underpants drawings. All through “asks” on this blog only!

Please note: I am not going to draw all requests! I will only accept a few that I might like to draw out. No OCs, keep it pg13, personal headcanons for characters are okay I will like to hear them, pairings are okay, and no more than three characters per drawing. Thanks for reading!  Have a good night or day!  :D

-MadJ

anonymous asked:

Wait im confused. Is the issue that you just hate how green taako looks, or is the issue that people draw him green to avoid drawing him nonwhite? Bc while i dont MIND green taako, thinking about it like that makes it seem.... not so good? But also sometimes i dont think its that deep and people arent that malicious, they just wanna draw a fun elf boy with no canon race. I do see how people could use it for evil tho

the latter! like, listen. i dont hate hate hate green taakos and i dont really have any Real Bad Feelings against anyone who draws them. it’s more about the fact that in a fantasy setting it is somehow more plausible for a elf to have green skin than for an elf to be anything but a) white or b) translucently white

it comes into a wider conversation about how nonwhite characters aren’t allowed in fantasy media, blah blah blah i wont bore you with the details although i’d love to, etc, etc

basically, while artists might not mean to be a dick, they need to reevaluate the “why would i rather draw an unnaturally coloured person than one that’s just not white?” i swear to god it takes one second and it does a lot for your character designs!! the thing about internalised racism is that it is that deep. like that’s the whole thing! you gotta fight it.

another thing is like, not ~having a canon race~ isn’t necessarily better than actually having a canon race, you know? being ambiguous doesn’t mean it’s representation. you’re just being ambiguous! 

Don’t Tell Me You Actually Doubted Me

Marvel (Doctor Strange) One Shot

Characters: [GENDER NEUTRAL] Reader x Stephen Strange

Warnings: injury, blood, swearing and mentions of death

Request: “hi. can you please(if it’s not botherting you) write something about reader and dr. strange, where reader is injured and doctor lost his ring, and the reader needs surgery. and he had to do it himself? sorry for my english:)” - Anon

Word Count: 1,159

A/M: Your english is fine !!! Thank you for requesting, I think this is the first Doctor Strange request !

Keep reading

SOPE Unit Mini Album: Hwagae market (The Misunderstood Vocalists)

Track List

1.Intro: Jhooooooope (Jhope #1 Fan) Suga’s solo Track

2.I Believe I Can Fly (Remix Cover) Ft Namjoon

3.Cypher pt 4.2 (Savage Duo: We won’t Let you Live)

4. WKWLLIT (We Know We Look Like Idiots Together)

5.Chill Fam, Hands Holding is Platonic

6. We Dabbed Ft Taehyung & Jungkook

7.We Laughing At You, Not With You (A dedication to Jin) 

8.To Be Tall Ft Jimin

9. Halmoni & Haraboji

10. We Ship Ourselves More than ARMYS

11.Outro: OMG (His Attempts At Aegyo) JHope’s Solo Track

i think about e/R as dads with a biological child a lot so i had to draw it

anonymous asked:

Can you describe what it would be like for a character to dissociate? What are the symptoms/ Is it sort of like an experience where they are moving their body but they don't feel they are the ones doing it? Does a character feel emotionless during these experiences? What would it be like for them to dissociate during a traumatic event (such as when they are being raped)? How do they escape a period of dissociation? How long do these periods normally last?

danny

A lot of these are different for everyone, but I’ll chime in for some parts. When I dissociate, it feels like nothing’s real and that I’m not a person. I’ll be physically and emotionally numb. It can be hard for me to see how what’s going on or how my memories connect to me. The best way I can describe that is that it’s like if you repeat a word over and over, it loses all meaning… except in this case, the word is everything. I’ll sometimes feel like I’m just watching whatever’s happening. A lot of the time, I shut down and it’s difficult for me to talk about how I’m doing. If it’s particularly bad, I may not be able to really hear what someone is saying, or I can’t respond at all. When the latter happens, it seems like the words I want to say are just stuck in my head and they won’t come out. 

For me, the length of time I’m dissociated depends how badly I got triggered and how I’m doing in general. Usually, the best way for me to come back is distracting myself by listening to music or a podcast, drawing, reading, etc. If I’m around people, it can help if they talk about something random that’s unrelated to what caused me to dissociate in the first place. Grounding techniques can help as well (focusing on what you can see, hear, smell, and feel or counting objects of a certain color).

nothowiplanned

I usually say it’s a bit like playing a video game. I’m controlling the character’s movements and I know what’s happening to the character, but I have no real sense that the character is me. I did dissociate during rapes and to be honest it was a relief more than anything else. It was a problem when it became my default response to stress or anxiety/fear, but while I was being raped it was just a relief. It was happening to someone who wasn’t me and that was as good as it was going to get. As for how long it lasts it really does vary. For me it usually lasts between 30 minutes and 3 hours, but as danny said grounding techniques can help me to come back. So can sugary food. If I’ve dissociated very far away I can also lose time, and struggle to respond to people.

Anon32

I usually feel a bit back inside my body, like instead of me being my body, it’s a shell around me and I’m looking out like the eyes are windows. Because nothing seems real or I seem like an observer instead of a participant, nothing is interesting or can hold my attention. Before I realized I was dissociating, I would say that I had “the blahs”, being bored and the things that usually are interesting aren’t. For me it can last a few hours or all day. I usually just sit and let it pass unless I have to work and then I just do. It might all be a dream, but dream me has to get this work done so I might as well. I can lose time as well and responding is difficult. Because I’m NB I sometimes get dysphoria related to penetrative sex, so I’ve tried to purposefully dissociate to reduce dysphoria then, but I can’t force dissociation.

Charlie

There’s a lot of talk about what dissociation is like generally, so I’ll just chime in describing my experiences of dissociating at the time of trauma, if that’s alright? 

It’s a bit different to dissociating in general, you have the same kind of symptoms but you’re still in a highly emotional situation. You’re aware of what’s happening and you’re still afraid, but it’s almost as if you’ve become so afraid that the fear has lost meaning, you can’t process the feeling. So it becomes numbness and you shut down. There’s really no word for it, you completely freeze.  It’s a bit different in these situations because the dissociation is a direct response to trauma that actually helps the person survive it, so there’s no grounding/escaping until it’s over and the character feels safe again. 

It’s thought that this dissociative/freeze response to trauma is one of the strongest indicators that a person will develop PTSD later on, as it basically results in a lot of unresolved tension and fear that we have tuned out through the dissociation. That’s a bit of a different topic, but it’s something to keep in mind if you’re writing a character experiencing a traumatic event and dissociating during it.

Peed my Pants While Doing Photography (And possibly trespassing)

Once again posting one of my experiences that has happened to me, as per usual I wrote this one for omorashi.org back in the day. This one is actually pretty special; when I posted this, the owner of HDWetting (If you’re an omorashi fan I know you know what that is), contacted me asking if he could adapt this experience of mine into a video, which of course I said yes to. An HDWetting video exists based on this experience of mine, so I’m still really happy this happened to me and that I wrote about it.

——————

So as some of you might not know, I enjoy taking pictures quite a bit. I live in a very woodsy area of Canada, and nature here is so great, whether it be ice on the trees in the winter, various wildlife in the summer, the sun coming through the trees, there’s always a shot to grab, and semi-recently, around the time the snow finally got around to leaving like a month ago, I was looking for just that shot. Of course, this story being on the site its on, you might guess I end up in a sort of predicament. If you’ve read my stuff on here you know its not uncommon for me, I almost do it subconsciously. Some times more consciously than others. Ahem. Anywho.

Obligatory description paragraph. I’m a young woman, I actually just hit 21 years of age! I’m not very big, I’m like 5'5-5'7 and around 110 pounds last I checked. Pale enough to blind people I’m told but I think that’s moreso emphasized by the fact my hair is long and very black, so its like a contrast thing I guess? On this day I was weariiiing I THINK a white Deadpool shirt, light blue snugly fitting jeans with one of my cuter belts (with a nice shiny buckle!) a red bra and panties set, and one of my leather jackets (I have 3). The shirt is the only bit I’m unsure on but I know for a fact it was white. White sneakers too, if that matters, and black socks.

So like I was saying, I was out trying to grab a picture, one I had been waiting for the end of the season for. There’s a wind turbine or two around here, you know the kind, the big pretty power windmills. One is in a lot out in the forest, and I wanted to get some up close shots of it from below, to the sides, from the trees, in different lighting and whatnot. Basically a photo op just for the windmill, and liable to take course over a couple of hours if I wanted to grab shots in certain lighting’s I wanted. Of course I was okay with this, while most days I don’t leave my house, let alone my room, this day was an out-day, and I was excited for it. Of course this windmill was technically on like government property or private property or SOMETHING but given the plot of land was quite literally a big empty space in the middle of the woods I didn’t really expect it to be guarded; I had cased the place multiple times, and it never was.

I woke up that morning, and did morning things. Got up, used the bathroom, took a shower, blah blah boring stuff. Watched some Netflix while I drank my morning tea to wake myself up (psyched for OITNB season 4 in a few days!!) and put together my outfit I described above while I drank another cup of tea (I love tea, these 2 in particular were a cup of earl grey, and a cup of english breakfast) before packing up a water bottle, my camera, etc. in a small satchel and setting off. It wasn’t somewhere I was driving to, moreso walking across this very small woodsy town. After an hour of trekking I was nearly at my destination, well the path leading there anyway, but first I wanted to pick up my planned breakfast. Nearby there was a small food stand, you know the kind, the little wagons. I got myself a large fries and a coke. Don’t assume I eat healthy, because most days I don’t, especially during my off time like I have now. I sat down at a bench to consume those, bought another small coke for the road, and continued on. Of course I’m not an idiot, I realized my odd thirst that morning would lead to situations later on, but I was like man I’m going to be in the middle of the woods, the world is my oyster and my bathroom if I need it to be, I’ll deal with it when it becomes an issue. Plot twist: It became an issue! Shock!

The stretch of road I ended up on is mostly empty; very few houses, and cars passing through is rare. It is on the side of this road though, that a path lies. It leads through the woods, and intermingles with multiple ATV tracks, walking trails, etc. One of these trails passes by a gate. Not like a big fenced gate, rather the kind that’s like 2 or 3 bars obviously meant to bar vehicles and things; a normal person could easily hop it or walk around it. I wasn’t taking the trails, for I did not want people to see where I was going. Luckily for me, I know these woods like the back of my hand, and the quickest path to any destination is a straight line. So I walk through the woods and arrive at this gate in a manner much quicker than taking the stupid paths. Of course I begin to feel the caffeine in my body filtering liquid rather rapidly, but it wasn’t a problem and I ignored it. I glanced at the gate and read the sign that said something about trespassing but I couldn’t tell you what it actually said, because in reality I read all of two words before vaulting over it. Shh don’t tell on me.

Continuing down this horrible forbidden path lead me to a completely unguarded clearing with my subject of the day. I looked up at the windmill and just kind of took it in for a bit before getting to work. I laid down at the base of it, my head against it before taking some shots straight up, some angled shots from the sides, just about every which-way you can imagine. I’d stop to take breaks and let nature progress (in multiple ways) and gnaw on things I had brought with me, like a granola bar or two, along with my water and some extra tea in a thermos (CHAI THIS TIME!) and as the day went on and on I had even grabbed a shot from up in a tree as the sun had reached just behind the head of the windmill. I had memorized every bit of it and was very happy with the shots I was getting. Of course by this time I had consumed many a liquid, and had them in me for many, many hours. It got to the point where I reaaaally needed to pee, but being an Omo enthusiast I was like…nah, I’m under control, let’s put it off just a bit more (I do this almost every time, and every time it ends up being a bad decision. I never learn). I laid down under a tree and enjoyed the feeling of needing to go, because you know why not, I was alone and whatnot. Issue is, I was so excited for this day that I had not gotten enough sleep the night before, and I ended up dozing off in that position for the better part of an hour or more. When I woke up the sky was orange, ripe with sunset.

Obviously, the moment I woke up I realized I was bursting. Like, I was on the verge. The precipice of explosion. The pipes were about to leak. Poseidon was about to wage war on the land. The kraken was to be released. I was about to piss my pants is what I’m trying to get at here. My legs were trembling and I immediately grabbed my thigh, digging my nails in and grinding my teeth a little, letting the wave settle. I stood up and was unbuckling my belt when I got an idea for another photo experiment. If you’re familiar with slow shutter speeds you might get what I was thinking here..Basically fast shutter speeds are used to take pictures of someone say, running, without a blur, at the cost of lack of good quality exposure. Meanwhile, slow shutter speeds get a better quality photo, but your subject must be still or it will blur and the like. Meanwhile if you want to get creative you can set the shutter speed really slow and try some fancy shit with the slow exposure, like say, those photos you see where someone sets the shutter speed to be as slow as possible and waves a flashlight around as the picture is being taken, basically creating a light-drawing. See what I mean?

The idea here being, I was desperate. Very desperate. As a result, I was shaking and trembling, like a bad shiver. Anyone else would have been like “I NEED TO PEE RIGHT THIS SECOND”, meanwhile I was here like, “You know, I’m shaking in just the perfect way so that if I focus the windmill in the center at an up-tilt angle with a slow shutter, I might be able to produce a sort of blurred after image effect picture or two..” And that’s exactly what I did. Manipulating my shaky state, I got a few shots in and they ended up exactly how I thought they would. I got really into it and kept taking shots until I felt myself…lose a little. A spurt hit my panties and I froze like…shiiiit. I checked and my pants were dry, but I could feel the dampness of my underwear against me. I was thinking to myself that it was time to pee and head back home, and moved to do just that before, the worst possible thing ever happened. I heard a voice behind me.

“Excuse me ma'am? What are you doing here?”

I turned around and there was some sort of young man. I assume he was a wilderness ranger or something. Not a cop but he had a uniform of some sort. I didn’t give a rats ass at the time, all that mattered is that I wasn’t supposed to be here, and he looked like it was his job to know that I wasn’t supposed to be here. Being quite literally about to wet myself, this is the last thing I wanted. I hobbled towards him, gave greetings. He gave the usual chatter, do you know this is a restricted area, what exactly are you doing, you’re trespassing, etc. I pleaded ignorance, trying not to shake TOO bad. He asked if I was alright, I told him I was getting a chill from the breeze. I was waiting for a specific moment, one I knew that was coming (NOT THAT IVE BEEN IN THIS SORT OF SITUATION BEFORE. HEH..HEHE…) and prayed it would come soon, and it did. He gave a nod, and turned to the right, looking away from me to speak quietly into the walkie talkie on his shoulder. Like I totally hadn’t done multiple times in the past, I dashed past him on the other side of him where he wasn’t looking. By the time he noticed I was too far gone, because I can run like the wind. I ran down the trail, and attempted to vault over the gate again, completely forgetting that I was one bad movement away from wetting my pants. A bad move such as trying to hop a gate and bumping your lower abdomen into said gate in the process. Halfway over I felt it start to leave me, a faint psssh as I landed on the other side. I looked down to see the denim darkening. I shoved my hand into my crotch and gripped for dear life, managing to regain control after a moment, not without a sizable patch however. The wet feeling between my legs made it hard to not let go right then and there. I heard thudding footsteps coming in my direction, so I took the same way back where I knew he wouldn’t think to follow me; straight through the woods, in the direction I knew would take me to the road. Running wasn’t easy on my, and although I pleaded with my body, I leaked a few times on the way, each time feeling my thighs grow slightly warmer, and the wetness traveling further down inch by inch. I could feel the muscles wavering, feeling like they were giving out only to hastily close back up at the last second. I could finally yank my pants down and pee if I could just get away..

I eventually burst out of the trees onto the road. I didn’t have any time. I looked back and forth. No cars. No houses. I just needed a place to pee…But at that point it was too late. The moment I felt it I shoved my hand back between my legs, into the damp fabric, but I couldn’t stop it. I started losing control, a soft hissing sound accompanying the rapidly darkening denim. I remember clapping my free hand over my mouth to stifle the moans and squeaks, uttering something like “Oh fuck, oh god no”. I locked my legs, crossing them and uncrossing them, gripping my crotch tighter, everything I thought I could do I did, but my hand just got wetter and wetter, going from bursts of pee to a full on firehose as my control was just completely lost. When the damn entirely broke even my hand couldn’t stop the moan, the feeling of my muscle control just dropping and the back of my pants around my ass going from dry to sopping in an instant. I stopped trying to keep myself quiet, groaning pathetically as I used my other hand to try and assist in stopping the flow but I was at the point of no return, I could feel it running down my legs, a warm river very surely soaking me, the sound of me whining and liquid pitter pattering onto the pavement the only sounds present as I peed in my pants in the middle of the empty street. I fell to my knees and let go, opting to just grip both my upper thighs as I rode it out, the back of my pants now absolutely drenched as a puddle grew underneath me. I tried another futile effort to clench back up…My muscles wavered, and immediately dropped out again, causing me to lurch forward from the sensation, my lurching causing the wetness to begin crawling forward down the front of my pants as well, bursting forth from the crotch area

. It was around then I realized I had completely peed myself and there was no coming back, the damage was done. Even my knees were heavy with dampness, a small river having grown around me, filling in the cracks in the yellow lines on the pavement. The stream became a trickle, and then it was over. I recomposed myself just in time to see headlights approaching off in the distance, and I heard an ATV coming up from the trail (likely that of the guard), so I ducked back into the woods again. I heard the ATV come out to the street, stay there for a few moments, and turn back around before heading down the trail again. I decided to take the most scenic of routes back, a tread through the forest all the way home. At one point I was almost in some persons back yard, but again, I know these woods like the back of my hand. I got back into my house, stealthy as a raccoon, and got changed, did my laundry, uploaded my pictures onto the computer, and watched more Netflix for the rest of the day. I am the master of escape tactics.~

Does anyone else’s depression just creep in for no reason? Nothing’s happened I’m just blah and unmotivated. And I’m tired but I haven’t done anything. I’m bored but I have no interest in doing anything. Does this happen to anyone else?

the woman, busy. shuffling hands passing dishes like magicians from cabinet to table. the muffled laughter of a shared joke that doesn’t pass outside the kitchen door. inside here is equal footing and slippery slopes both, grandmother clucks and takes the bowl because you’re stirring wrong and there should be more salt don’t you know; in-law pinches lips about full-fat milk pour. but here, land untouched by men, there is a warmth of kin. the woman dance, around toys on the floor, the art of raising house quietly, of asking nicely for help, of expecting refusal. the young girls who are already learning to whisk in and out, hands full of food, tight smile at lewd. the moment where young girls become young women, where they are handed salad or bread to serve, where they get the joke, where a door softly opens and they are home. something deep and secret and magic. unwork, unhard, unlabor. the keeping of beasts, who roughhouse and kick up heels, who drink beers and belch at televisions. the quieting of red-cheeked shouters, whose women know to duck, to insert crackers to calm hunger, to approach with gentle hands and speak in gentle words and gentle shushing of a loud soul. inside the kitchen she straightens, she eye-rolls, she whispers men and we all, women, we know.