even at age 5

i realized this year would mark 10 years since i started trying to develop a cartoon/comic style!

i mean it’s really just me gradually drawing larger eyes, understanding anatomy, and color theory a little better

regardless, i think it’s good to consider that you don’t start out, or rather, stay at a style until you really start to feel comfortable with yourself!

You can’t tell me that sleeve would stay rolled up, and rolling up a sleeve with one hand and nothing to brace against is bullshit. Thank god at least one of the other paladins is always there to help when it happens, but it’s still really frustrating, especially when Shiro’s already having a rough day.

Smol Shiro in his oversized sweater for @butteredonions, from her still-killing-me-softly fic, The Size Of Our Actions.


do you ever just torture yourself thinking about how hard Bellamy Blake’s life has been: 

  • we don’t know when his father left/died/was floated/if he ever even knew him
  • we know at the age of 5/6 (depending on O’s birthdate) he had to begin keeping a secret (his mother’s pregnancy.
  • we know at the age of 6 he had to begin keeping an ever bigger secret.
  • “your sister, your responsibility.” 
  • probably having to live a life of relative isolation for most of his life to keep O safe.
  • we don’t know if he wanted to be a guard or not, but we do know Bob said that “Bellamy had to give up his education” at Unity Days 2017, so I’m going to say he gave up his ideal career choice for O.
  • had to watch his mother prostitute herself to keep the secret of O. 
  • had to force his little sister to hide in a compartment under the floor.
  • just wanted his little sister to have a good time, wound up getting his mother floated and his sister jailed. 
  • was demoted to janitor for a crime that wasn’t his. 
  • was only given 2 ounces of water a day (wtf?)
  • was blackmailed into shooting Jaha by Shumway. 
  • thought he would be able to live happily on the ground, but surprise!!!, the ground sucks. 
  • was an asshole for a few days on the ground, but was more than likely a cover to protect himself and octavia
  • loses charlotte
  • sister is kidnapped
  • murphy returns and brings with him a bioweapon
  • catches the virus, almost dies
  • is almost killed in a field while hallucinating Jaha
  • is hanged by someone he considered a friend
  • has to watch his sister leave with a Grounder he’s unsure of while he fights for his life
  • stays outside of the dropship to allow more time for the door closing, almost dies.
  • is taken hostage by Tristan
  • escapes, but is treated like a second class citizen at Camp Jaha

Got to hold our friends’ newborn baby today and HOHMAN. I was hit with a strong urge of “yeah I would be okay if a second one came along”.

For someone who swore up and down for most of my life that I would never have kids, I’m actually glad I changed my mind. Fullmetal is such a joy, and I can’t imagine life without him.

(I am NOT insinuating that life is better with kids, or that godawful line of “you’ll change your mind one day”. I just happened to be a case where I changed my mind, and I’m glad for it. If you’re not interested in having kids, that’s cool, too!)

anonymous asked:

i love so much your sketches!! can I see some you are doing right now? 8)

I haven’t being able to draw as much as I wanted lately but here is some sketches that I’ll probably never finish since almost all of them are from last year 8D

murknmystery  asked:

Hi guys! Okay, I just read the most amazing magic school au, and I don't see a tag specifically for that? So, I'm not sure what tag update this would be for, but could you possibly find some more amazing magic school aus? Preferably not Harry Potter aus, just magic school. Love the blog. Thanks for all you do.

this is what i was able to find

No Escape For The Wicked by Fandomtastic (2/2 | 774 | PG13)

Everyone is born with a gift. Something that makes them special. It used to be rare but now the normals are almost unheard of. Now the rare thing is them. Stiles, Scott, Lydia… Others. They’re considered dangerous; labled as Kakos.

Instead of being like every other person with a gift, they have more than one. They’re considered unstable and not safe around others without the ability to counteract theirs. And even if they did, the Kakos had one than more ability. Even ate the age of 5, they’re shipped off when others see signs of another ability.

Stiles understands. He did. Until he was ripped away from his father. The day after he supposedly killed his mother.

Another World, Another Chance by klainer4ever1 (40/? | 245,807 | NC17)

Stiles did lose everything in one night. He lost all hope. He didn’t know about the supernatural. The Alpha pack came and tore his world apart. They wanted to use his powers, but someone came and saved him. Someone who Stiles thought, he would never see again. That person saved him and took him to another world. Will Stiles find happiness ever again?

Or will Stiles lose everything again.

Supernatural creatures for dummies by Galadriel87 (5/6 | 5,534 | PG13)

Stiles is just trying to get by in his new school: School for Magical and Supernatural Creatures. It’s not made any easier by his own unfortunate powers and trying to help a loner wolf who doesn’t want to be helped.

Autism Service Doggos

Thank you so much <3 Yeah I was actually also unaware of the fact that autism service dogs were a Thing until I was like, 17+? and I met someone who had one and I was like ‘what that’s a thing???? what do’ and we talked and I realized how much something like that could help me, which is were my ~*~journey~*~ for my own ASD started.

I’ve been researching this stuff for like, 6+ years now. Every program I’ve come across has any combination of:
1) being illegitimate, giving people untrained(and sometimes even reactive) dogs
2) Only working with children, almost always ages 5-12(as if no one over 12 years old is autistic???)
3) Using pretty dehumanizing terminology(“children with autism”, “[autistic kids] live in a different world”, “autism is especially hard on the parents”)
4) Using pretty dehumanizing(and potentially dangerous) techniques such as tethering children to their dogs

    My goal is to eventually start a program that works primarily with adults, since we have no choice except to train a dog ourselves or hire a private trainer, which is a lot of work and can be pretty expensive, overwhelming, or even just impossible. Now, I have an idea of what I need in a service dog, but there are no two autistic people that are exactly alike so I need an idea of what sorts of things we should be prepared to handle, which is where this quiz below comes in.
    It is 3 pages but every question is relevant to things such as: what sort of financial help are we going to have to provide, what sorts of breeds should we work with, what sort of tasks should we train, problems we should familiarize ourselves with, etc.

    If you aren’t autistic but would like you view the quiz, you can fill out the required questions but please do not submit the form so it doesn’t screw with the results, or if you do, make a note that you aren’t autistic.

    I am in the process of figuring out how to contact trainers, and other Official Dog People and get their input on the more managerial side of things as well as how I can really get started on this thing but if anyone reading this is, or knows, someone who can help me out with “actually starting and running a service dog training program”, it’d be really great if you could point them my way. My side blog for this stuff is http://zekesgaggle.tumblr.com/

    If we could get this spread around it would help a lot <3 And if anyone thinks they can help directly, again, please get in touch.



Imagine Tina Goldstein having a huuuge crush on this famous senior back in her Ilvemorny days, but she was too shy to talk to him, he didnt even know who the hell she was. Tina kept it a secret for years, until, said senior in Ilvemorny happened to be her senior Auror at MACUSA and he, hulla, started hitting on her.

mood of the week: crying over how grown up xiao is looking these days 

I had seen a post about it before, but it wasn’t until about a week ago, that I finally could tell myself that, I can have and enjoy a bottle, even if my regressed age is 3-5. Or my onesie.
I’m so happy that I finally feel okay about it, and don’t feel like I can only have things, that’s within that age range.

About a week ago, I sat across Daddy’s lap, while he held the bottle so I could drink from it. I could hear his heartbeat, while he rested his cheek on my head.
It was the most amazing thing, and I’ve never ever felt so safe, as I did there. And it was the same the other times he did it, it was such a great bonding experience.
Thank you so much Daddy, for being so amazing 💜

Don’t let people tell you how to regress, you’re the only one who controls that. If you wanna wear a onesie or use a bottle, then do it, or other things. As long as it makes you happy.

(Don’t delete caption)

Short Natsby Fic

I absolutely could not. I could not take advantage of the broken shell of a man before me. His once bright eyes were dulled with the severity of his loss. She had gone, without even a word, she had gone. After 5 years, ages spent building up a life worth her glance, the woman of his dreams had left his life a nightmare.

These were just some of the many reasons that seemed to flow out of my conscious as to why I could not possibly hold onto him as he desperately tried to hold onto his sanity. He was shaking, trembles flew through his body and escaped his mouth as shaky breaths. His mumbled question brought me back from my reverie.

“I’m terribly sorry Gatsby, what did you just say?”

“Thank you…” and then, as a forced afterthought, “…old sport..”

My mind was racing as was my heart. Despite the absence of his usual upper-crust voice, the husky tenor of his voice resonated deep within in me.

“Honestly Gatsby, there is no need for you to tha—”

My voice faltered as he looked directly at me. While the skin around his face pulled tightly against the structured foundation of his face in a smile, his eyes held a stormy fierceness that matched the low thunder of his voice. Even after the summer’s events, he was unwilling to let his carefully constructed masque fall.

“Ah…as I was saying, Gatsby, you really needn’t thank me.”

I finished lamely and looked at the ground as he continued to smile at me. My eyes appeared to trick me as I noticed his forced smile turn into more a playful smirk. The sudden change in his demeanor concerned me as much as his next question.

“Why is that, old sport?”

I began to speak but stopped myself, which resulted in my face taking on the attractive guise of a gasping fish. His very slowly lifted one of his brows at this and the storminess in his eyes seemed to die down. Very minutely, subtle enough to missed, he leaned forward in anticipation of an answer. This small gesture tugged relentlessly at my heartstrings.

His face betrayed the tragedy of the situation and his heart might as well have been tailored to the lapel of his pale jacket. I couldn't possibly stop talking now and all at once, everything that had accumulated in the past weeks sprung forth from my mouth.

“Gatsby, I already mentioned what a rotten bunch you were in with”…again I faltered but continued nonetheless, “I keep imagining what would have happened had I not moved East. I keep trying to convince myself that the East was a failure for me, but I can’t. My short tryst here has shaped me in a way that I cannot wholly love or hate. I hate the carelessness of these people, I love the quick, tempo of the town…I hate the jaunty-chinned rich retreating into their own gold laden sanctuary leaving a mess, but…I love being excited again since the War. Your friendship changed me, how can I reserve judgment on those who deserve it the most!”

You always hoped, your ability to hope is something one can only hope to find in life and the fact that your guests slander you on the courage of your own liquor irks me, I can’t—”

Here my ramblings were cut short as he suddenly stood from my couch and strode towards me. The purpose in his steps sounded along my shabby floors and the wall melded against my back as he pushed me against it.

“G-gatsby?!” I managed to choke out before the warm of his mouth on mine melted the rest of the words in my mouth.

My head swam as he continued to claim my mouth, rough and uninhibited by his sadness. I groaned low in my throat and broke away from him, gasping. As much as I wanted this, I never wanted it like this;I wasn't going to be Daisy’s substitute. I tried to push away from him but he held me still. As much as I fought, Gatsby was an athlete and obviously stronger than me. I was so frustrated with the entire affair, I wanted him, God knows I did, but I wasn't about to be taken as some poor substitute for a broken dream.

My frustration accumulated in the corners of my eyes and threatened to fall. Gatsby saw this and his grip changed minutely from a vice to more of a firm caress. Looking directly in my eyes he reached down and intertwined our fingers and pinned them above my head. Breathlessly I watched his face as he began to kiss along my jaw and a small keen escaped from my throat as his attention was drawn to the hollow junction where my ear met my neck. His kisses weren't fervent like before, they were slow and drew out my every breath. I mumbled for him to stop but my words meant nothing to either of us. He rested his forehead against my and his breath was warm against my skin.

“Gatsby, please, I..I can’t. Not like this, please God I can’t be her, I live up to your dreams..I’m…Gatsby no!”

I turned my head away from his and felt the wetness fall across my cheek.

“Old sport…Nick..no more, I wanted the world and look where I am now. Everything now is more turbulent than the seas with Cody, but the one constant this entire time was you. Always by my side, always on my side. It doesn't take a true Oxford man to decipher what you mean to me…not only to Jay Gatsby…but to James.”

I felt the warm weight of his every word flow across my cheek and into my chest. They kept filling the hollow there until my lungs swelled with his sentiments making it hard for me to breathe. I looked at him slowly and finally dropped my forehead against his shoulder.

The burdens of the past days were too heavy and needed to rest, just for a minute. Just as the fatigue reached my mind I heard him murmur softly against the shell of my ear.

He nodded towards the glow of the lantern I kept outside my shack and bent down to whisper:

“…I was reaching for the wrong light.”

With my face in his hands he sealed his words into my memory with a slow, sweet kiss that washed over me and burned sweetly like good liquor. They say Dom Perignon tasted the stars when he invented champagne; with Gatsby, it was more along the lines of a star being born. This immense power that starts off slow and controlled only for a moment before collapsing into everything.

I don’t remember how we made it to my small bedroom, but Gatsby’s weight pressed me against the mattress and sent me into a dizzying spell of want. I stripped him of his coat, shirt, and cracking facade. The brush of skin against skin and his ministrations drove me near the edge. Everything was Gatsby, everything seemed golden.

“Nick, please..say something”

At his command I began to moan his name, or the one he gave himself, I allowed him that dignity. I murmured “Jay” over and over like a chant in time to the movement of his hips. He wasn't at all like I expected: he was gentle, affectionate, stopping only to kiss along my jaw and meld his mouth to mine in between his adamant insistences that I wasn't a substitute, but an improvement. My affections grew and projected outwards through my gasps.

“Jay..God, Jay you’re…” A sudden flick of his hips made me lose my breath and fall backwards against the mattress. I looked up to him staring at me intently. He licked his lips slowly out of nerves and I couldn't help mimicking the gesture.

“Old sport…I’m…?” He let the end of his sentence ring higher in question and rested his forehead against mine as he’d done in the hall.

I breathed a ragged sigh and whispered to him:

“Jay Gatsby…you’re….great.”

He smiled in a way that I am absolutely positive no one, none of his guests or Daisy, had seen before. His smile said he was not only in my favor, but mine.

We stayed together until the morning sun came and we went. I woke up against the sunlight in his hair and the sheen of it against his chest and nuzzled closer to him until I fell into a dreamless sleep.