i sincerely apologize for the quality of this

anonymous asked:

How do you make the stickers? Does the store do it for you?

If you purchase from my redbubble, then yes the store makes it.
But everything in my storenvy is made by me.
From discussing with manufacturers, doing quality checks, packing and shipping is all done by me (and with the help of my mom :D)
Thats why I advice you guys to purchase from my storenvy whenever its reopen, instead from my redbubble cause I also handcraft each order and send them out with love and care :D

Also each sticker you purchase from storenvy is personally hand cut (my sincere apologies if its inconsistent :X)
Here is a photo of me flipping my stickers off after spending 5 hours cutting 200 pieces HAHAHAHAHAHAHA oh man :’D

Letter to everyone

Hello, I just want to share the truth since I have made a final decision. Firstly, thank you very much for all this time for your support. I have been going through many personal events which has led me to a decision. In the past, I was working very hard to adapt to industries in concept art and design, but now I feel it’s time to pursue my true dream of creating and expressing my own stories and visual art. I apologize for the slow response in the past year, please know that I want to do my best in everything. The reason that I have been delaying then because I know I couldn’t perform the best quality work. Though there are still a lot of unknown for me, but the path is clear to me now. I have found myself and I am able to paint again. Please look forward to my upcoming work and I appreciate your understanding and concern always.
If you have anything, please contact me.


prophetparadox  asked:

Could I have a one shot involving Prompto comforting his s/o after having an anxiety/depression fueled crying session? I've been feeling down lately and could use some sweet Prompto.

Sounds like we all need a little Prompto tenderness in our lives, huh?

While I’m more than happy to provide a little comfort and refuge for anybody who needs it, especially if its packaged in a smiling blonde box, I can’t say I’m not a little saddened to hear that you both have been feeling low lately. I want to offer a sincere apology and warm hug.🌸

I understand that having your mood dip low and slow every once in a while is not only natural, but healthy and beneficial to your mental state and overall wellbeing as a means of processing your emotions and feelings.

With that said, however, I want to also remind you that it’s important to be kind and gentle with yourself, too!

I feel like we’re all so hard on ourselves, and view our worth and self image with such harsh, scrutinizing eyes that rip apart all of our positive qualities and unique characteristics, leaving us feeling hollow and unworthy of appreciation and love.

But please, even if it’s only for my sake, or for the duration of this one shot, take a step back from the mirror inside your head, from the hatred you look at yourself with, and instead see yourself the same way we see the stars: as a glimmer of light in the darkness, a marvel of nature and creation that astounds and amazes those who have the pleasure of viewing it.

You may feel like you’re a black hole, a void in space - but believe me, you’re a masterpiece of the cosmos, and the fabric of the universe wouldn’t be complete without you.✨

Keep reading

Watercolor materials for beginners.

I’m so sorry, @wrought-thought, the Tumblr App ate my replies again and then snacked on your original ask! All I can see of it now is this excerpt in my phone, and nowhere else. Fortunately I’d taken notes in my sketchbook that I can work from, because it was impossible to write and view the ask at the same time on my phone. After finally losing the ask itself to the voracious bowels of The App, I elected to wait until I was back in front of a desktop computer to try again. I hope you and others may find the reply useful heading into the new year!

The gist of the Ask was this:

“Christmas has come and gone…” (paraphrasing begins here) and I want to spend some money on art supplies. I have experience in other media but I want to try watercolors and I’d like your recommendations for paints, paper, and inks that don’t bleed.

My sincere apologies to @wrought-thought for butchering the original ask, I hope you find the reply useful! 

Paint: I like to recommend Cotman watercolor sets for people who are just starting with the medium. They come in both dry pans (very portable and they tend to come with a decent small brush), and in tubes(great for being able to mix a large amount of a darkly colored wash, though you will need to buy a pallet if you get this version). The paints are inexpensive but very decent quality and you don’t have to worry about which colors to pick right off the bat.

Once you’re having fun and you’re sure you want to splurge a bit on some “artist quality” paints, I have been slowly converting my original W&N set to Holbein as my pigments run out.

Paint Shopping Tip: If you are looking to match one color of paint in two different brands, look for the pigment code instead of the name. Different companies give different names to the same pigments, and use different pigments under the same name. In example, my W&N “French Ultramarine” and Holbein “Ultramarine Deep” both carry the code “PIGMENT: PB29” and are the same type of blue.

Paper: My go-to is Strathmore cold press paper. It’s a good weight, and I like the texture/tooth on it. Perhaps most importantly, the surface quality has been very consistent from batch to batch for me. I have never had trouble with any water-based pigments bleeding into the paper fibers, and it stands up to a fair amount of abuse. I do not use any coated papers, like “vellum” or “mixed-media,” as the evenness of the coating will be inconsistant from piece to piece and it will always start resisting my washes in exactly the wrong place. I had a bad batch of this sort of paper once that cost me weeks of time to work around on a professional project. It was a nightmare. Never again!

Pens and ink: I don’t use nib pens because my hand pressure is too heavy. The sharp tips catch on the papers I like to use and make a big splattery sobbing-worthy mess. I use felt tipped liners like Micron, and round synthetic watercolor brushes to do my inking. For brushed inks, I’ve found that acrylic-based bleed the least, because the acrylic doesn’t dissolve as easily as some other binding agents.

Inking tips to keep bleeding to a minimum: Always give your ink drawing enough time to dry before you do anything else to it, including erasing pencil lines. To be safe with felt pens, let it be for five minutes. For ink, at least ten. When in doubt, wait a little longer. Avoid sharpies - they fade more quickly in the sun than other pigments and like other alcohol-based dye inks they will more easily bleed/bloom into the paper fibers.

Brushes: I’m adding this one in because I feel that having a decent brush is key to controlling your watercolors. A 6 or 8 round synthetic sable brush is a great place to start. You can do many paintings with just that one brush. My favorite inexpensive brand is Princeton Art & Brush Co. I prefer their series with the red handles.

On Overloaded Brushes: If you find that the paints feel a little too sloppy you may have overloaded your brush. Try letting of if the paint run back onto your pallet, and if they isn’t enough, blot out some of the extra on a folded paper towel.

For when sloppy is what you really DO want: While not strictly necessary, a large flat sable (1.5 inches or larger) or camelhair brush is great for laying in a large wet wash quickly. If you want to do larger work, it will save you time and frustration if you want to get the whole painting wet at the same time so that you can use salt, or do wet-on-wet blending techniques.

Once again, thank you for the Ask @wrought-thought! Happy Holidays and my wishes for a great New Year to everyone. :)

- Emma


- Past -
The morning after, the first night Madara stayed

The first thing Madara registers in the morning is the scent of pine, which rings each and every single alarm bell in his mind because his room does not smell of pine, never has, never will, so evidently, he is currently not in his room and that is most certainly disconcerting.

His body wants to react to this immediately, but Madara is a Shinobi and knows better to just jump to his feet right away; he harshly commands his body to lie still, as if he were still asleep. He must access his situation first before he acts.

Well, for one, he is in a bed and naked as the day he was born, which is another cause for worry, because Madara has no nudist or exhibitionist tendencies and doesn’t sleep in the nude.
The other thing is that he is currently snuggled up against a pleasantly warm body, from where the scent of pine seems to be originating.

And then Madara remembers where he is, and why he is there, with whom, and why he is in this state of undress.

Oh right.

He and Hashirama, they indulged in, in that again.
And for the first time, Madara had not immediately afterwards dressed and left, as he had done all the times before last night. He doesn’t quite remember why last night had been different, why he had decided to stay; there’s just the vague memory of Hashirama whispering his name and those dark brown eyes staring at him imploringly.

Damn that persuasive Senju and how easily he seems to affect Madara.
Madara hates it.

While he remembers and broods, the warm pillow he is snuggling has started to move. Obviously, Hashirama is awake, and might have been for some time now. The Uchiha holds still when he feels rough fingertips brush over the bumps and ridges of his scars; then, Madara feels Hashirama’s lips against his forehead.

Needless to say, Madara is scandalized!

So this is what Hashirama does to him while he believes him to be asleep? What a creep! He’d done well not sharing a bed with Hashirama up until now!

…Somehow Madara doesn’t feel quite as angry about this as he knows he should feel. To be honest, he feels oddly content in that moment. Hashirama is so warm against him, and his touch has something admiring about it, as if Hashirama is truly admiring his body, maybe his touch could even be called—lov—

And just like that, Madara is wide-awake and miserable. The sheets rub uncomfortably against his bare skin, Hashirama’s touch is scalding and his gaze scrutinizing, and his presence is stifling, it is a heavy weight on Madara’s chest, choking him, robbing him of his breath—

Madara can’t stand it, he has to leave.

Right now.

He takes a deep, shuddering breath, and then he tears away from Hashirama and rolls out of the bed.


Hashirama sounds genuinely confused when he calls out his name, and Madara merely ignores him. He needs to get away, and he won’t allow that Senju to sweet-talk him into staying a second longer, so he hastily gathers his clothes that are strewn across the room, shed in a desperate hurry late at night, and dresses.
He senses Hashirama moving on the bed, perhaps he is about to get up, perhaps he will try and stop him—no, no, Madara must not let that happen, so he hurries even more and flees Hashirama’s house.

He is hardly thinking straight as he rushes down the path he always takes to the Senju’s home, he does not care for once about the people who might see him, even if it’s so early in the morning.

At home, he quickly removes his clothes again, leaving a trail of articles of clothing to his bathroom. He washes, and then crawls into his bed, not bothering to put on something to cover himself with.

His heart is still pounding in his chest, the muscle trapped in his ribcage, just as he was trapped, is trapped, by Hashirama’s affections and loving touches.

He tries to banish the memory of this awakening, but as he lies there, he remembers Hashirama’s fingertips touching his scars, and he hates himself for relishing in the memory. 

Our Lives are Told in Moments

Aaron x Female Reader


Word Count: 2185

Request: Can I request a Aaron Burr x reader where Aaron thinks about all his memories with baby Theodosia and the reader before dueling Alexander

A/N: Sorry for the little hiatus there! Midterms are finally over, and while I really did not do good on them, we are moving on. I am so excited to be writing again, but apparently I’m a little rusty because this is so choppy, and just overall not as good of quality as usual. To the requester: I have no idea if this is what you had in mind, but if it isn’t I sincerely apologize. This takes place right after the duel. Pretend Aaron’s wife was still alive. And I am sincerely sorry for the angst. Enjoy!

Keep reading

Courageous (Bellamy Oneshot)

A\N: Loved writing this Xx Thanks so much!

Basic plot: it’s based in the episode “Day Trip” where they set a communication with the ark with the video screen and they are all greeting their parents, Maddy (female pov) goes into the tent to the screen to greet her parents, but instead Jaha appears and tells her they are both dead. Her mother was sick before they were sent down to earth, and her dad was floated for trying to steal extra medicine like she did. So she rushes out of the tent in tears and goes to a secret spot to grieve, Bellamy sees her and follows after her. She’s a bit cold to him at first but then she explains what has happened, and why she was arrested and he comforts her. (they don’t have to kiss, unless you feel like it works) Yeah, so, sorry about all this info, I know it’s probably over board But thank you so much, and I’m really excited to see what you write! -@fandomsgirl-13

Originally posted by bellarke

The grounders eyes flutter shut as the crimson blood dries on his face. I can’t help but feel sorry for him as his head slowly bobs up and down. He looks deathly ill and as if he could pass out, or even die, at any moment. Bellamys been torturing him for so long and you can tell he’s not bad or evil. How could he be? It seemed as though everyone - except Bellamy and his clique of brainless idiots - knows the grounder means no harm. If only Bellamy saw that too, then I wouldn’t be pacing around this room nervously waiting for him to make his move and attack the vulnerable grounder. This is what my days consisted of recently and not only is it keeping me up at night, it’s putting me on edge. How long until his friends come looking for him? How long until they find him? If they’re not as nice as this one is then we’re all as good as dead.

“Let him go.” I feel the words pour out of my mouth and Bellamy looks to me with an exasperated expression. I can tell he’s so tired of me being around but I feel the need to have a say in this matter, “Bell-”

“-We’ve talked about this, Maddy.” He grunts in annoyance and I abruptly stand up and face him. I feel the anger bubble inside my chest, like it always does when I’m with Bellamy. It’s no secret the two of us have our differences but at the end of the day, I’d like to think we still care about each other. Not in the lover way, but in the I-would-totally-care-if-you-died way.

“What is he here for? He didn’t kill or hurt anyone. The only person who’s done that is you!” I exclaim harshly. Bellamy is silent. I remember Octavia crying and screaming as Bellamy tortured him yesterday. She was so hurt and she doesn’t want this, "See? You don’t even have a reason to keep him here. You think you’re a good leader? What kind of a leader does this?” I feel anger rise up in me as I turn to Lincoln and pull on his restraints. Maybe this time will be the time that he’s set free. Maybe Bellamy will realise his mistake and won’t stop me.

“Maddy!” Bellamy yells, pulling me back by my shoulder as Lincoln looks at me with wide eyes, “What the hell is wrong with you?!” He shouts again and not giving him a second look, I forcefully shove his hand off my shoulder and run my fingers through my light hair in frustration.

“Me?!” I repeat incredulously, pushing him back by the chest lightly and he gives me a look of disappointment, as if he knows about the argument that is about to happen, “You’re the one trying to start a war! You don’t even care about Octavia, do you? You don’t even care that she’s not dead. Shit, any one of us could drop dead and you wouldn’t even bat an eye-” I go silent as Bellamy grabs both my wrists in his strong hands and pushes me towards the door. For the first time in a while, the room is silent. No screams, arguments, cries. Just pure, deafening silence weighing down on my throat as I hear what has come out of my mouth. I know Bellamy lives for his little sister but in that moment I felt the need to hurt him, which wasn’t like me. I’m usually a caring person and I would never dream of saying those things to him. 

“Get out.” He orders, taking a step closer to me and I shake my head. 

Keep reading

i’m sorry: shattered - part one

character: mark

plot: Being friends with him is a blessing. You guys have been there for each other for the longest since junior high throughout high school till now. However, you have always wanted more than that. But in the end, you’re nothing but a great friend to him.

genre: au, angst

A/N: I’d like to sincerely apologize to all Mark stans for having to write this when Christmas Eve is meant to be happy. I LOVE YOU ALL AND DON’T KILL ME LOL <3.

Keep reading

Notes on Wings #2: Lie

1. Namjoon read “My parents’ house made up one realm,… This realm was familiar to me in almost every way - mother and father, love and strictness, model behavior, and school.”

The quote is an excerpt from Demian: The Story of Emil Sinclair’s Youth by Hermann Hesse. This is a continuation from the quote Namjoon read in Wings #1.

2. Familiar setting of a hospital/asylum

We’ve seen a similar setting in BTS’ Run mv (and Namjoon’s Joke mv). 

I’m pretty sure this is an asylum. Why?

3. The Rorschach test 

Extract from Wiki: AKA the Rorschach inkblot test, it is a psychological test in which subjects’ perceptions of inkblots are recorded and then analyzed using psychological interpretation, complex algorithms, or both. Some psychologists use this test to examine a person’s personality characteristics and emotional functioning. It has been employed to detect underlying thought disorder, especially in cases where patients are reluctant to describe their thinking processes openly.

Keep reading

Carve Me Open (Chapter 2 of 2)

Tag list: @skeletoresinthebasement @emilypkuzu @science-of-deduction-sh

@sebass-stanfan @feigningintrest @gabrielleallen @lokiscurvylover @5secondsofthewintersoldier @captainmqmeep @sebastianstan-crazed @thatisstilltheterm @the-girl-with-no-plan

Chapter 1

A/N: A message from an ex-girlfriend comes through on Sebastian’s phone that you have. They went to lunch, you seem okay on the surface, but your female intuition is screaming that something else is at play. You are having dinner with Sebs when shit hits the fan.


He unlocks his phone and reads the message. He looks up slowly and we gazed at each other for a long time. Under any other circumstance his gaze was deadly enough to melt my panties, but tonight my gaze was steel. He blinked and stared down at his food contemplating and now realizing it wasn’t going to get eaten.

“It was just lunch.” He finally said.

“Yes, a lunch that was just fine.” I mocked. “You said that already.

He exhaled deeply knowing the battle that lay ahead. The cab ride was what was expected, silent and consuming.


He opened the door to our apartment and I stepped in and walked into the kitchen. The door closes and his footsteps approach the kitchen, he places the bag that contained our uneaten food on the counter and exhaled heavily.

The argument was explosive:

“Who is she?”

“An ex.”

I smiled, “You know we all have that ex, where if given the opportunity we would give them a second chance. So is she just an ex or is she the ex.”

“Don’t do that that’s unfair.”

“I shrugged. “Fair enough, but from what I gather she seems to be that ex. Do you still love her?”

“I care for her, yes.”

“That’s not what I asked. Do you still love her Sebastian?”

He paused then answers. “No.”

“You’re lying. I know when you’re lying.” He opens his mouth as if to say something, but he thinks against it and remains silent. “OH. MY. GOD. You still fucking love her!” I screamed.

I walked out of the kitchen and into the living room.

“Doll, it’s not what you think.”

“What I think. You can’t begin to imagine what I think.”

“I was in love with her for a very long time, but, you’re right.” I turn to glare at him, my eyes dark and venomous, he raises his hands as he cautiously approached me. “I love her, but I am not in love with her. I am madly in love with you, Dollface.”

I laughed. “Dollface, did you call her that too?”

His jaw tightens and I know I’m crossing the line into the murky gray. He approaches me and I stepped back until the wall was pressed into my back, his anger turned into rage and detonated.

He glowers. “Don’t you fucking dare, don’t play this game with me because you will not win. You want to take shots at me, fine, but you better can handle receiving them.”

“Fuck you, Sebastian.” I say trying to side step him, but he lifts his hand blocking my escape.

“Yeah, fuck me. Why don’t you ask me the question you’re dying to ask? Did she fuck me better than you.”

I slapped him hard across the face. “That was a low blow.” He opened his mouth to speak and his reflex was quick as he grabbed my wrist as I tried to slap him again.

“And asking if I called her Dollface wasn’t a punch to the gut.” He sneered.

I leered at him. “I don’t care if she fucks you better than I can, I’m fucking fantastic bed. The question here is if your dick is just as good as you think it is.”

Okay, I know. Don’t say it. That was uncalled for.

The heat from his rage seeped out of his pores and ensnared me. His eyes were acid. He laughed and I squirmed under the heat of his gaze. He unzipped his jeans and pulled my hand into his boxers, my breath catches as the heat pooled to my apex and he groaned as the energy in the room shifted to lust. My fingers coiled around him as his muscles tightened. “Say it again.” He commands daring me to speak my lies again, but I couldn’t speak my tongue was thick. “Your fucking words means nothing to me. If I wasn’t great in bed your body wouldn’t be trembling like it is now.” He pulls my hand from his boxers and presses his thickness into me. “You want it don’t you.” He smirks, breathing against my cheek then biting down on the space between my neck and collarbone. I didn’t mean to moan, but fuck, I couldn’t fight it. “Your body is mine.”

He was right. I’ll give him that. My body belonged to him, but I refused to give in without a fight.

I needed some distance between us. I pushed him harshly away from me and walked to the center of the room, where the air was untainted. “Why don’t you admit it?”

“Admit what?”

“That lunch was more than just fine. My fucking intuition wouldn’t be going off like this if nothing happened, so why don’t you quit lying to me and say it.”

“W-we kissed.”

“And there it is.”

Kissing his onscreen love interests was one thing, kissing an ex he was once in love with was another thing.

He crosses the room and stands in front of me. He lifts his hand to me, but I bat it away. “Stop it.” He says holding me by the shoulder. “Casey works in the industry and I saw her when I was in Austin.”

“And you didn’t say anything?” I asked, shrugging his hands off my shoulders.

“No because I know you would be reacting the way you are now.”

“Fucking right I would because lunch wouldn’t have happened without me present.”

“You’re being silly.”

“Silly, silly?” I scoffed. “You are the one that had that silly rule in place. No seeing each others ex without the other present, but I guess that only applied to me, right? You controlling asshat.”

He grinds his teeth, “she told me that she would be in New York this week and lunch on set with hundreds of people around was agreed upon. I was not alone with her not for a second. And what I meant was not seeing each others exes alone, we were not alone.”

“Okay, so if Colin comes calling then I can have lunch with him just as long as there are few hundred people around. Cool, great.”

“No, you are not allowed anywhere with fucking Colin*.”

“Oh, I’m not allowed to see Colin?” I reply with air quotes.

“Doll, don’t fucking play with me. You know my reasons and you bringing up his name is only angering me.”

“Fine. continue.”

His voice was now monotonous and annoyed. “She did most of the talking and I listened. She knows about you, she knows I’m happy with you, but from the message, she took lunch to mean something else. I didn’t do anything to lead her on.”

“If you are so happy with me why did you kiss her?”

He sighed, defeated. “As she was leaving we hugged and then she kissed me. I pulled away immediately telling her that she had crossed the line and how inappropriate she was being. She apologized, but I know it wasn’t sincere, she played games like this when we were together, which was one of the reasons I broke up with her, she was too damn sneaky for her own good and I just couldn’t be with someone like that. Yes, I grew to love her, we were together for two years, she had great qualities, but her bad habits outweighed the good. I don’t wish her any ills. Doll, you are the only one for me.”

I closed my eyes. I believed him, I don’t doubt his love for me not for a second, but I hate him right now.

I opened my eyes. “Colin is a hard limit for you and Casey is a hard limit for me.”

“Fair enough.” He replied.

“That message will be erased, do not reply to her., do not pass go, do not collect $200.”


He pulled me into him and I didn’t fight him, I was tired and hungry. His lips grazed mine. “I am so angry.” I mumbled.

“I know.” He replies, his lips brushing against mine. “I know I fucked up. I don’t expect you to forgive me right away, but we are okay, right?

“Yes, we are okay, we are stronger than this, but-.”

“No, buts. Let me show you that there are no buts.”

His lips were warm and delicious. This was the beginning of the foreplay that led to a night of passionate lovemaking and a morning of unyielding, amorous, and relentless devotion and I was ready for him to worship every inch of me…unyielding. 

He pulls away slowly and looks down at me. “Asshat. Really?”

“Shut up before the sofa becomes your bed tonight.”

I interlocked my fingers around his neck as his deft fingers roamed over my body and I remembered in that moment that he was an expertise when it came to my body, arousing me until my body was no longer my own, but his.

***Colin is an ex that Sebs vehemently hates. I will have this story up tomorrow at 9pm.***

2016 was not a good art year for me. The quantity dropped and the quality of the finished works is equal to those from the last year (if not worse). There’s a lot to learn and catching up to do. 

I wish to sincerely apologize for my inactivity in the recent months, especially to those that still await for their drawings. 

Dear miss hot chocolate lady,

I think we might have had a fundamental miscommunication here. I am not disputing the quality of your product, it is very nice hot chocolate. I especially appreciated your thoughtful inquiry re. my gelatin tolerance, and your subsequent inclusion of three whole mini-marshmallows, which was either sincere generosity or an apology on your part, because really there was only physical space in the cup for two, two-and-a-half tops.

I am disputing your grasp of the English language as used by normal people who buy things in the society we both live in. Because generally in said society, when one requests a ‘small’ hot chocolate, one expects a fairly standard-sized cup, robust yet somewhat smaller than the 'regular’ size, which is made for giants and contains enough hot chocolate to drown a horse.

Whereas what you have given me, was clearly made for a motherfucking pixie.

And I am not a particularly short person, miss hot chocolate lady, and even if I were there would be no reason to assume that I had such a complex over my teeniness that I need assuage it with teeny tiny doll house props, so that I may feel my Liliputian hands are mighty Hagridian mitts, as indeed they do when they are cradling the product you handed me.

Also, I happen to have a cold, much like the majority of your customers now that autumn has finally dropped its mucosal shroud firmly down over our heads, and another barrier to my full enjoyment of your delightfully wee creation here is my conviction that every time I sneeze the involuntary muscular contraction of my fist will crush my itsy-bitsy beverage like a dainty sparrow’s egg clasped by a half-ton robot not programmed to do that sort of thing.

In conclusion, to borrow from the timeless words of Agent J, I feel like I’m'a break this damn thing.