i made a skin

                                                  ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ'ᴠᴇ ʙᴜɪʟᴛ ᴀɴ ᴇᴍᴘɪʀᴇ.

                                                       ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ. ɴᴏᴛ ᴍɪɴᴇ.

lov my ninja dads


by reddit user DoverHawk

I recently put my daughter in daycare.  I didn’t want to do it, but being that I’m a single parent, I don’t have much of a choice.

After dubious research, I found a daycare center that seemed like a good fit.  It was run by a girl named Wendy and seemed fairly popular in the neighborhood, as there were a number of kids there when I went to investigate.  One of the things I particularly liked about it was the fact that they had security cameras set up around the center so that parents can get access to them and check on their kids.

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So what better time than on Valentines Day to subject you poor followers to more oc ships with artist friends, I guess???

This one is with good artist friend and inspiration, @bulumble-bee! Her bottom-heavy barista, named Mizuki, is paired with what sorta used to be a minor char in one of my stories but now is sorta floating around in the space between actual casts? (Like so many others). His name’s Felix Vargas, and he’s a free-lance painter. While Mizuki’s Japanese, Felix is Spanish in terms of heritage and channels that culture through his hobby of cooking that he does for her often, as evidenced in the picture below. 

I had way more fun drawing that Pallea that Felix is holding than I should have. Food is really fun to draw and color, and I should do it waaaaaay more often…

i once fell in love with a boy in my poetry class because he had blue eyes and was kind to someone, just once, and i liked that a lot. when we kissed in the back of his car he told me broken girls were the best kind. he still writes about me, sometimes, and i pretend he’s not writing about me, and he pretends the same thing. in his poems i am a mystery, a queen, an avenging angel who walked away and left no garden unburned.

in my book he never held back my hair when i was throwing up. once when i asked him what we were he said “a boy and a wolf.” i said i don’t feel like running anymore. he said that he loved that i was made to sink, to set teeth to skin. i said “i’m trying to be good” and he said he loved the failure in my trying.

in his words i’m a mountain, spread legs, an island. in mine i’m a girl who goes to get groceries and thinks he liked the sound of my name but never stopped to ask the meaning.