i struggled my way through this set

How to express your animal side in everyday life.

Some people have difficulty mixing “human life” and “pet play”. While I am not suggesting you go out in public in full BDSM gear (unless that’s your thing, then go right ahead) and some pets feel embarrassed wearing their ears or tail out of the house, you can intermingle your inner pet/animal into the way you act and think every day. It is a subtle way for you to stay in touch with that side and have more confidence as you go to school, work, family gatherings, etc.

A good way to start is to think like your animal. Is your animal funny or a trickster? Independent? Affectionate? An example would be myself as a wolf. Wolves are very protective of their own and enjoy a pack mentality. While in class, I make sure no one is left behind, and make sure everyone understands what we are working on. I take care of those who struggle and protect them. Through that, I have become one of the leaders of the class, and even though I am not an instructor, I have set my place in the “pack”, so to speak. Now people come to me for help without having to initialize it myself.

Another way to incorporate your animal side is to improve your actions. I am not saying you should change yourself drastically but there are slight ways to add it to your everyday activities. Again, think about your animal. Are they shy and timid? Are they slow-moving? Are they loud and boisterous? Using myself as an example again, a wolf is very strong and certain of themselves so as I walk through school, I stand tall, my stride is long and slow (a friend of mine can fit two footfalls into one of mine as we walk side by side) but I don’t drag myself or make her wait because I am too slow; my stride is equal to hers, just longer. I will occasionally tilt my head as someone is talking (not too noticeably) and I use my eyes as a major indicator of how I am feeling.

Do whatever feels comfortable for you. And I am in no way suggesting that you change who you are to fit your animal. It is all about intermingling it, not changing completely, because you as a person are very unique and deserve as much recognition as an individual as anyone else.

– Beta Keiko

The Immobility Dream

I sometimes like to think about how I could eventually get so big to the point where I’m completely dependent on someone else. It’s only a dream, but hopefully one day it will come true.

It all starts when I move in with that special one, unaware about the plan they have for me. I’d only be slightly chubby at that point but they’d quickly change that, sneaking double cream into everything I eat and teasing me with sweet desserts. As my thighs start rubbing and my small pot belly turns into a soft fat overhang I submit to my cravings, allowing the portions to get bigger and for them to shovel sweet pastries and greasy burgers into my mouth as part of our midnight antics. On days off they’d surprise me with a massive breakfast in bed, taking three trips to the kitchen to bring over. After completing the mountain of sausages, bacon, beans, mushrooms, fried toast and hash browns they’d join me in bed to provide belly rubs and play with my new found chub as I lazily submit to the ever growing weight on my figure and fall into yet another bliss food coma. As my waist size rockets and my body jiggles further with every (short) stride, I get more tired from the simplest of tasks from getting out of the car to climbing the stairs. With my fat thighs turning into folds of lard and my belly becoming so big it puts my crotch out of reach, I start relying on them to join me in the shower to reach the parts of my massive frame that I can no longer reach. One day, after struggling to fit into a set of strained sweatpants and leaving my belly swaying out below a stretched white t-shirt, they watch me try to make my way through the bedroom door. After initially failing due to my massive wide hips I try sideways, eventually getting my massive ass cheeks and huge belly stuck in the door frame. They help push me out, and with me out of breath they pinch the fat between my belly button and the bottom of my overhang and pull my back into bed. They whisper into my ear “Don’t worry, I’ve got you”, and run off to come back with a mountain of burgers, donuts and other fatty treats. My days are then spent bound to my bed, the sheer weight of my humongous obese frame keeping me down. As I struggle to lift my arms for the sea of fat hanging off them they feed me more and more, becoming totally immobile and totally dependent on them. The days are spent shovelling more food, double cream and lard into my stomach and the nights are spent being used as a mattress by them, kneading my huge fat rolls like dough. All I live for is to eat for their pleasure, a stimulus I cannot shake off leading to my hands and feet disappearing in fat and becoming a huge lard mattress for them to enjoy.

I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed writing that.

Awesome resource for artists who need help finding their ‘voice’ for the FFXV boys

I recently saw this post going around by @promptae about the FFXV fandom reducing the main 4 boys to very basic and degrading stereotypes. It kind of upset me, because A) I worried that I was doing this to them, too and B) I think they bring up a good point and I would hope other fan artists would work hard to avoid portraying the boys in this way. 

So, I’m working on a fic right now and I needed some inspiration for some of Gladio’s lines, and what’s better for inspiration than canon dialogue? I didn’t, however, want to run around in my own game waiting for banter or scroll endlessly through tumblr looking for gif sets or videos, so I headed over to youtube. 


What I ended up finding was a huge playlist of over 200 banters compiled by YouTube user Savannah Grace NC. This was a HUGE help to me, being able to just sit and listen to banter after banter of the boys in various situations, happy, sad, angry, excited, etc, and I just thought I’d share for anyone else struggling to balance four very distinct personalities and ways of speaking. 

We choose to portray characters out of character for many reasons–for AUs, because we’re looking for a certain reaction out of a character, because we introduced a new character or OC into the mix, because we’re writing a crack fic–and I’m not saying it’s the end of the world if you choose to do this. But, personally I think trying to write/draw/RP a character as in character as possible is a lot of fun, and can be very rewarding for both the artists and other fans reading/observing the art. 


Happy writing/drawing/RPing/head-canon-constructing!!!

2

Requested: Imagine Minho being jealous after seeing you with the new Greenie. He tries to play it off cool but fails miserably. 

I watched him run into to the maze for another day of searching for an exit and avoiding grievers. Minho and I have been dating for four and a half months now, I came up into the maze five months ago on this exact day, being the only girl here was horrible for the first few days, but I became fast friends with the boys, especially Newt, Alby, and Minho. Minho and I were instantly attracted to one another, and since I was a medjack, we fell in love through Minho’s numerous injuries from running.  

I shake my head to clear the thoughts and walk into the medjack hut. I’m organizing a medicine cabinet when the alarm goes off. Today is Greenie day, and because of my caring, maternal instinct, I’m in charge of helping the Greenie feel at home. I push through the crowd of boys and meet Newt, Alby, and Gally at the edge of the box. It opens and we see yet another boy, he is muscular with dark hair, and looks absolutely horrified.

Gally jumps into the box and lifts the boy up, “Rise and shine greenie!”

Newt, Alby, and I walk the Greenie away from the amused crowd of boys, “Welcome to the Glade Greenie, I’m Alby, the leader, this is Newt, he’s second in command, and this is Y/N, the only girl around this place.”

The Greenie scans my body, then looks back up to my face smirking, that’s when Newt steps in front of me, “I swear to god Greenbean, if you lay a bloody finger on her, I will kill you before Minho even gets the chance!”    

I smile at Newt’s protectiveness, he and Alby, along with most of the other boys, have always treated me like a sister, “I’ll take it from here boys,” I say turning toward the new boy, “come on Greenie, time for the tour.”

I walk him through the Glade showing him every inch of the place, “So do you remember your name yet?” I ask trying to make small talk.

“It’s-” He pauses, deep in thought, “um…”

“It’s alright; it’ll come to you in a day or t-”

“Nathan!” He suddenly exclaims, “My name’s Nathan.”

“Alright, so Nathan, do you have any questions?”

“Yeah, I do actually,” I raise my eyebrows at him, “Who’s Minho? Newt mentioned him earlier who is he?”

“That’s for me to know, and for you to find out,” I wink then giggle.

Minho’s POV

The sun will be setting soon, so I’m making my way back to the Glade, smiling at the thought of seeing my beautiful girlfriend. It’s Greenie day, so we will be having a bonfire, I know how much Y/N loves them. I run through the gate and instantly see her, laughing with the Greenie, his eyes hungrily wander her body, and I trip over my own two feet and faceplant into the ground.

“Shuck!” I hear her call out, trying to conceal the amusement in her voice, “You struggling a little over there sweetheart?” That sassy little slinthead.

I get up on to my feet, trying to gather my dignity up off the ground, and walk up to Y/N with all the pride that I can gather. I look the Greenie, who is standing directly behind her, straight in the eye before turn back to Y/N. I grab her by the waist, dip her down and kiss her square on the lips.

I finally look at the Greenie who is starting back with wide eyes and walk towards him.

Y/N’s POV

Still flustered by the kiss, I see Minho walking towards Nathan, he grabs him by the front of the shirt, pulling him on to his toes, he looks tiny compared Minho, “If you ever look at my girlfriend like that again I will throw you off the shucking cliff, am I clear shank?!”

Nathan nods frantically and Minho walks toward the map room.

“And that, Nathan, was Minho. My wonderful boyfriend,” you say before walking away to prepare for the bonfire.  

Masterlist // Rules List // To-Do List

I Can’t Save Her: Part 32

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Angst, References of Death

Catch Up Here

Word Count: 1251

Summary: You have been with the Avengers for three years and during that time you have developed a close friendship with Bucky. When you discover another woman in Bucky’s room you begin to question what your true feelings are for him.

Author’s Notes: If you were hoping things would get better after part 31… well… you’re going to be disappointed. DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE NOT READ PART 31 – MAJOR SPOILERS.

Originally posted by theperkybuttofrdj

Originally posted by heartbreakhur

There is nothing beautiful about inching your way towards death. When it is slow – we call it life. When it is quick – we call it sickness or an emergency. The reality is – we all die – even the heroes. If we’re lucky we get the happy ending – the normal life – for a few years before… but more times than not we run to death with open arms, because you can only protect so much before sacrificing yourself. As I stared into the darkness I knew I wasn’t dead yet. There was still a little spark left in me, but I was so tired… I longed for it to end. I just wanted to float into oblivion.

“Just let it end,” I whispered into the void.

“What end?” I heard a familiar voice as I felt a warmth presence envelope my hand. I suddenly became aware of the sound of machinery near me as I fought to open my eyes. I was being pulled out of the fog and darkness and back into the world. I blinked several times before recognizing the person sitting beside me.

“Tony?” I croaked softly as my eyes adjusted to the light. I was becoming increasingly aware of the pain that throbbed in my stomach and arm. “Where… where am I?” I asked. I couldn’t remember much of what had led me to being here.

“You’re at Clint’s. We set up a quasi-medical room in one of his extra bedrooms. You’re safe,” Tony added with a soft squeeze of my hand.

Scenes of blood and screams flashed through my mind. I couldn’t remember what was real and what were dreams anymore. “What…what happened to me?” I asked as my eyes flitted to my bandaged abdomen. I struggled to sit up before the fiery pain overtook me and my head fell helplessly back onto the pillow.

“Take it easy, kid. You’ve lost a lot of blood. You were attacked on your way into the courthouse,” Tony answered hesitantly. His answer gripped inside of me as I felt myself starting to shake. Bits and pieces of my memories were slowly starting to surface.

“Where is Steve?” I asked frantically, bolting upright despite the crippling pain.

“Y/N! You need to lay back down… you can’t…”

“Where is Steve?!” I demanded again as my vision clouded with tears. I wasn’t sure which pain was worse – the physical pain or the pain of knowing what Tony would say next.

Tony sighed sadly as he gently helped me lay back down. “He didn’t…” his voice cracked as his eyes glistened with tears. “He didn’t make it.” I bit the inside of my cheek to stifle my cry as tears pricked at my eyes. It hurt to cry – it hurt to do breathe, and all the pain reminded me of was the fact that I was alive and Steve was dead. Tony gently wiped the tears away. “You need to rest, kid. You need to heal. F.R.I.D.A.Y. call in the doctor to see if it’s time for Y/N’s medication. Please let him know that she is awake.” Tony proceeded to stand up and walk to the doors.

“Tony?” I whispered through tears as he turned to look at me with his hand on the doorknob.

“Yeah, kid?”

“You should have let me die,” I whispered before closing my eyes and praying that I would fall back into oblivion.


“Tony?” I asked tiredly as I forced my eyes to open slowly.

“Yeah kid?” he answered wearily. It had been a few days since I had woken up the first time. Before that I had been asleep for three days. Even now I fought to maintain consciousness. As desperately as I hated being awake I just as desperately held onto it until I couldn’t anymore. I needed to know what happened. I needed to know why two of the people I loved were not there with me.

“Steve… he’s,” I muttered tiredly. I could tell by Tony’s tired sigh that I repeated this like a mantra every time I woke. “He’s dead, isn’t he?” I asked quietly.

“Yes – yes, he is,” Tony answered just as quietly.

“Where’s Bucky?” I asked through tears. I hadn’t ever managed to verbalize this question before. I couldn’t deal with the pain of losing Steve alone.

Tony’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Y/N, I need to tell you something, but first you have to promise me something,” he whispered as his thumb traced the veins on the back of my hand.

“What?” I asked wearily. I felt like I couldn’t promise anything – not honestly.

“No matter what happens next you have to promise me you won’t give up kid. You’re part of our…. You’re part of my family, and I’ve lost enough family for a lifetime. Deal?” he asked as his eyes gleamed with tears.

It was as I looked into Tony’s eyes and saw the deep sorrow that he usually hid so well that I understood. This wasn’t about me anymore. I could give up – I could never get out of this bed again. It would be the easiest option. It would be the most selfish. I looked at Tony and I saw a man that had lost more than one family – a man living through his past trauma, but trying his best to be strong for those that were still here. I looked into his eyes and I knew I had to make that promise, and I had to honor it. “I promise,” I whispered as a tear slid down my cheek. Tony cleared his throat uncomfortably as he shifted his eyes away from me. The anxiety that followed his movements was almost crippling. “Please – just tell me.”

“Fury kept his promise. Barnes was in D.C. at the time of the attack. Of course, if we had known you were going to be attacked… well it may have been better if he had been here,” Tony sighed to himself as he hung his head in his hands.

“What?” I managed to choke out. I could feel the hysteria trying to desperately claw its way out of me. I was afraid if it broke free I would never be able to control it again. “Tony, what?” I demanded impatiently.

Tony looked up at me again and grimaced. “Everyone thinks you’re dead,” he explained matter-of-factly.

“Excuse me?” I asked in alarm as I struggled to sit up. Tony’s firm hand on my shoulder prevented me from getting far.

“Y/N, we don’t know who is responsible for this attack, and we don’t know if they were targeting you or Steve,” Tony tried to explain calmly.

“You don’t know? You don’t fucking know? Are you kidding me Tony? You know exactly who is responsible! You know they were going after me! Where the fuck is Bucky?!” I yelled frantically. In my mind I could see Bucky – alone – thinking the two people he cared about the most were dead.

“Barnes is M.I.A. Fury is doing everything he can to find him, but it’s like he’s vanished into thin air after the attack. We think that there’s a possibility…” Tony’s words halted as his face contorted with pain.

“What? There’s a possibility that what?” I demanded.

“There’s a possibility that Bucky could have been involved,” Tony replied.

And just like that – my hysteria burst through every defense I had and I floated into a dark cloud of misery. I never thought I would long for the feeling of inching towards my demise – God, I was wrong.


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I can't be friends either (Liam Dunbar)

 https://radwriting.tumblr.com/post/160743403682/i-cant-be-friends-liam-dunbartheo-raeken PART ONE

“I can’t be friends because I want to be so much more than that.”

I couldn’t stop thinking about what he said. Liam had admitted he loved me and what did I do? I panicked and ran. I had been avoiding Liam trying to wrap my head around what was happening. Did I love Liam? I know I cared about him a lot. I was only sixteen, I didn’t even know what love really meant yet. The boys had lacrosse practice today. I had to go because Stiles was my brother and also my ride home. I sucked in a sharp breath knowing Liam would be there and I would have to face him eventually.

“why do you reek of anxiety?” I heard a voice say from behind me.

Originally posted by holyhalehottness

Brett Talbot stood behind me in all of his arrogant glory.

“why are you here again?” I sassed back.

“coach asked me see how good you guys are this year, maybe we can beat you.” He said smirking and throwing an arm around my shoulder.

I quickly shrugged him off.

“you know normally Talbot I’d have the patience for your stupidity but not today.”

Brett laughed rolling his eyes.

“let me guess relationship drama?”

“I’m not in a relationship Brett.” I said looking down at my shoes.

“really? I thought you and Dunbar seemed pretty cozy together.” Brett said shrugging his shoulders.

“well we aren’t!” I snapped maybe a little too harshly.

“dang girl chill i’m sorry my mistake.” He said raising his hands defensively.

“he uh told me he loved me.”

I had no idea why I was telling Brett Talbot of all people my problems.

“don’t you love him back?” Brett asked suddenly sounding like a concerned friend.

“I don’t know.” I said dramatically throwing my head back.

We walked up the bleachers and sat down. I saw Liam coming out from the locker room dragging behind Scott and Stiles. He looked up meeting my eyes. He saw Brett sitting with me and immediately looked away.

Originally posted by lilbetapupliam

 I could see the hurt in his eyes and it killed me knowing I was causing it.

“well this is awkward. Hey Brett.” Mason said taking the other seat beside me.

“Brett invited himself to sit here.” I said looking back down to Liam, but he wouldn’t look at me.

I guess I don’t blame him. The more I thought about it, I realized I did like Liam in that way but I was scared. scared to love him and be hurt, scared to lose him, scared that he’d get tired of me after a while, just scared.

“earth to y/n!” Brett screamed in my ear.

“what!” I hissed back at him.

“somebody is flirting with your boy.” Brett said pointing down to the field.

I looked down seeing Hayden Romero. She had been giving Liam looks since she transferred here. She was beautiful and she played sports. She would be a better fit for Liam than me.

Originally posted by vengefuldarling

“okay Brett that doesn’t mean anything.” I said rolling my eyes.

“sure looks like something to me, and hey on the plus side if you don’t like him he can always go for Hayden.” Brett said with a look that I wanted to smack right off his pretty boy face.

“you know what I don’t have time for this today.” I huffed skipping down the bleachers.

I walked in to the school sitting down in front of my locker. What was I feeling right now? Was it jealousy? I heard a thump coming from down the hall interrupting my thoughts. I walked down slowly taking a look at my surroundings. When you’ve been dealing with the supernatural you can never be too cautious. It was just Tracy Stewart standing at her locker. I noticed she was breathing heavily.

“tracy? are you okay?” I asked getting closer to her.

She turned around her eyes changing color and blood covering her face.

Originally posted by teenwolf

“I guess not.” I said slowly backing away from her.

Tracy growled before totally morphing into a kanima. I started sprinting down the hall but it didn’t really matter. Tracy climbed the lockers and was running beside me. She jumped off blocking my path causing me to run into her. I fell backwards hitting my head off the floor. I could feel blood trickle from where I hit my head. Tracy leaned close to me raising her claws. I could see the venom dripping. I grabbed her arm trying to fight her off. She was about to swipe her claws at me when I heard a roar. Tracy was tackled off of me by Brett and Liam.

“guys don’t let her scratch you!” I screamed looking at the boys struggling with the kanima girl.

“why?” Brett screamed back.

Suddenly Tracy scratched Liam causing him to go down paralyzed.

“That’s why.” I said trying to get up.

I stumbled unsteady. Brett was struggling with Tracy. Tracy was about to scratch Brett when Scott came in roaring his alpha roar. Tracy stopped, looking at Scott before running off. I managed to get up and stumbled my way over to Liam.

“what is this? what happened? why can’t I move?” Liam said freaking out.

“hey it’s okay you’ll be fine in a few hours it’s kanima venom it paralyzes people.” I said running my hand through his hair, not that he felt it anyways.

Brett and Scott picked Liam up setting him in Stiles jeep.

“it was Tracy Stewart.” I told Scott looking at Liam’s handsome face.

“alright Brett and I are going to try and find Tracy, you stay here with Liam.” Scott said running off with Brett.

There was an awkward silence. I felt something drip on my shoulder. I realized I was still bleeding from where I hit my head.

“hey you should sit down.” Liam said noticing as well. 

I crawled in the back seat beside him.

“grab my hand, let me try to heal you.” Liam said looking at me with worried eyes.

“you need to focus on healing yourself, don’t worry about me Liam.” I said giving him a small smile.

“I can’t not worry about you, in fact that’s all I do. when you left practice I got worried. Why did you leave by the way?”

I was hoping he wouldn’t ask. Should I tell him that I was jealous? I could just lie and tell him that Brett was annoying me, which wasn’t totally a lie. I didn’t realize I had been quiet for a little until Liam spoke again.

“what’s wrong y/n? you can tell me.”

“I guess I might have a been a little jealous of Hayden flirting with you.” I sighed deciding to tell him the truth.

“why would you be jealous?” Liam said laughing a little bit.

“I guess I can’t be friends either.” I said looking him in the eyes and smiling.

He was smiling widely at this point.

“I swear as soon as I can move i’m going to give you the biggest hug.” Liam said laughing.

“tell me can you feel this?”

I leaned in and placed my lips on his. There was explosions as soon as my lips touched his. He kissed me back as if his life depended on it.

Originally posted by foreverupsidedowninsideout

I pulled away out of breathe.

“well I guess we aren’t friends anymore.” Liam said resting his forehead against mine.

“good because I want to be so much more than that.” I said kissing him again.

Currently taking requests for imagines!

Finding Our Truth

—————

Author’s Notes

A little break from all the smut I’ve been writing. I’m actually pretty pleased with this little bit of Post (or Pre) Ep/ Missing scene Fluffy Fluff.
It’s a morning after the last scene in ‘Exsistence’. Not long or terribly exciting, but I’m glad I wrote it.

Still taking prompts and requests, so keep ‘em coming.

Enjoy!

—————

It was a loud, shrill cry that pierced the quiet of morning. Scully jolted up for the fourth time since midnight. Her heart thumped in her ears with deafening intensity and her heart found it’s way to her throat. Her body was a muddle of flip-flopping confusion and fear. One, two, three seconds passed and her heart rate stabilized and her mind cleared way for rational thought. “There’s nothing to fear” she told herself, sitting up to gaze over her shoulder to the source of the screech. No more than a couple of a feet from her bed, stood a wicker bassinet on a stand. Inside lay a diminutive little newborn, dressed in his blue onesie, wriggling his arms and kicking his tiny legs. His little red face so flushed with intensity as he cried out with fervor, as the noise reverberated around the room. Though the cries were sharp and painful to endure, she couldn’t think of a single sound that had ever filled her heart with such intense joy. Well, apart from the low, soothing voice that startled her from behind. “Sounds like someone’s hungry….again” Mulder gleefully whispered in her ear, as he too sat up to peer into the bassinet, resting his head, from behind, on Scully’s shoulders.


“I can’t believe he’s really here and he’s ok, Mulder, he’s just so perfect….I just…” Scully trailed off, her mind fixated on her son. She watched him with a smile on her face that looked like it could remain there permanently. “I can’t believe we only had to waken four times in the past five hours” Mulder quipped, his voice barely audible from the wailing cries of the baby before them. Cries that would easily encourage one to plug their ears or cover their head with a pillow, but to them, they were the cries of health, of happiness and of a longing they had been blessed with. An answered prayer in the form of an angry, little human whose frown lines were buried deep in his soft skin.


Scully gently maneuvered her weight, allowing her to lift William out of his Moses basket, without leaving the bed. A slight grimace of pain escaped her lips as she did. Like any new mother, her body was tender and sore, but she relished in each pain and ache, knowing that each one was a reminder of her strength and femininity. She settled back against the pillows that Mulder was stacking behind her and inhaled deeply. Every smell drifted right through her nasal passages, into the receptors of her brain, releasing dopamine in such intoxicating amounts. The scents of lavender lotions, of clean sheets, Mulder’s musky ‘man smell’ mixed with the delicate aromas of her newborn son. The overpowering sense of smell was one of three senses that seemed heightened in the early morning.

First smell, then sight and then there was the sense of touch. The warm room and the golden hues of the sun lazily enveloping the room through the cracks in the curtains. The sheer delicacy of her sons tiny body, his fair complexion illuminated with scarlet emotion. The muscular structure of Mulder’s bare torso and his messy bed head. His 'morning look’, after spending the night beside her, in a pair of pajama pants he’d left in her apartment a little over nine months before. The feel of the dip in the bed from Mulder’s weight, the softness of William’s skin and barely-there wisps of light hair.

All of these little details completed the trifecta of fulfilled senses in a moment she could have stayed nestled in forever.


As she gently cradled William in her arms, his delirious screams softened into quiet whimpers. Both Mulder and Scully kept their eyes fixated on his face, like he was a discovery of other-worldly proportions, they couldn’t look away, they couldn’t stop staring. Mulder gently ran his thumb over William’s forehead, breaking his gaze to look at Scully with a smile so wide his cheeks ached. They didn’t speak. They didn’t have to. Her look of sheer contentment, his look of over joyous awe, they spoke in the silent language they had perfected for so many years.

William gurgled, trying to pick up the energy to cry again. Scully, trying not to move him too much, gently unbuttoned her cream, silk pajama top, exposing her left breast. Mulder watched in wonder, as William latched on to Scully’s nipple with eager compulsion.


It was something he’d never really given thought to and certainly not something that he expected to have an emotional effect on him, but here he was, in the grips of a moment that was so beguiling to him that he almost felt his eyes sting with tears. Tears, he managed to keep from welling up or spilling down his face, by smiling so broadly that his eyes disappeared into small lines of happiness. He avoided letting himself think of Scully’s body as being purely feminine in a traditional sense, because he always wanted to treat her as an equal, but it amazed him how her body had transformed to him over the years. The respect and attraction coiled and emerged, mutating with each new way it presented itself in his eyes.

When they were nothing more than colleagues and friends, her body was a hidden entity, in his mind like a plastic-barbie without any real definition, masked by pant suits and trench coats, sweaters or shirts. To him, that body was one of strength, of fitness, that bore scars and marks, reminders of the power it had. When he’d caught his first glimpse of her naked, they were still friends, and he eyed her with a sheepish curiosity, aroused by her bodies beauty but pushing it out of his mind. Until they were finally lovers and his eyes, hands and mouth roamed her body, it’s new form dazzling his senses, over and over. Now, that same body had added a new merit to how he viewed it. Watching his son, finally content, as he was breast fed. He felt it all; the beauty, the strength, the femininity, the power. It amazed him over and over.


William’s eyes closed with tiredness and concentration as he enjoyed his first meal of the morning. His parents wrapped in a blissful cocoon, watching his little mouth work furiously for his milk. Mulder leaned in to kiss Scully, who broke her gaze from her son to turn her head just enough to meet Mulder’s lips half way. The kiss was soft and gentle, mimicking so many before. “I love you” was all Mulder said, breaking the perfect silence. Scully smiled at him with a knowing look, switching her gaze between Mulder, down to William and back to Mulder. “I think…” she hesitated slightly, whispering so as not to disturb William. “As silly as this might sound, Mulder….when I first met you, when we first started on this crazy journey, the thought of having a child…”. She was slightly bashful, averting her gaze back to William. “I don’t think I could have ever known true happiness if I hadn’t been through the pain, through the struggle, but my reward was… love” her tone sobered up as she spoke. Speaking the truth had a way of snapping her into an intense reality. She inhaled, glancing between the man she loved and the son he had given her. “Love, Mulder…. in so many forms” she continued. “For each set back, each conflict or battle, I strived to get through it because I knew it had to be for some reason….and now, now I know”.

Mulder was silent, allowing her time to articulate the words that had lingered on her tongue, which he knew she had to speak.

“We’ve faught to win so many battles and now, I see our reward” she motioned to William with a light nod and tender smile. “We were fighting for this, Mulder, we – you and me - we were fighting for our son, for our family, for love”. A smile ached its way onto her lips, as a single tear dropped from her lashes, splashing Williams head, enough to make him wriggle in her arms. “Love, Mulder….our love, maybe that was the purpose of all of it”. Mulder lifted his hand to her face, wiping away the remnants of the single tear, cupping her face he leaned in and kissed her cheek. His soft lips reminding her why she spoke the words she did. He leaned his head against hers and let his eyes drop to watch William.


“Scully, I can’t promise what the future holds, but I know that it was more than coincidence” Mulder spoke softly, his warm breath spreading euphoria through her body. “You, me, our son, it was more than just a series of random acts, coincidentally leading us to here, I don’t know what – or who – or even why, Scully”. His voice a low hum, warm and, uncharacteristically filled with peace. “Some things are just more powerful than we can ever explain and I think, maybe, I’m seeing all the answers to so many of my questions right here, that my own truth is here, with you and with William”.

The Foxhole Court, Chapter 12 – Road Trip To Embarrass… Who Again?

In which the squad goes to a talk show, wake-up calls go wrong, Neil goes live on national television, shipping goes well, and I go nuts, just a little bit.

Sounds good? Then it’s time for Nicki to read The Foxhole Court.

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Creepypasta #1122: My Bird Dog And I Went Hunting In The Desert Of Eastern Oregon - A Desert That Doesn't Like Intruders

Length: Super long

About six weeks ago, I went into the wilderness of Eastern Oregon with my 2 year old hunting dog (a golden retriever named Reggie) to hunt for pheasant, partridge, quail, and flyfish for steelhead. I was camping along the John Day River, which is in the high desert and carves a deep valley through the sage brush coated hills and black-rock cliffs. Something happened in that canyon that has changed everything I know (or thought I knew) about the world we live in. I’ll start with a bit of backstory before I get into the events.

I did this same camping trip with two buddies last November during my dog’s first bird season, and we were all psyched to have round two. Unfortunately, one of the dudes bailed because of work pressure, and the other because he needed time to prep for an interview.

So I decided to go alone. I’ve done plenty of solo camping and hunting before, and this time I had my bird dog so I felt even better going alone. There’s obviously no cell service out there, so I gave my girlfriend and some buddies my route and camping locations, and set out before sunrise on a Friday with plans to return late on Sunday. It’s about a three hour drive to the stretch of the John Day River basin where I was heading, and got there around 9:30. 

It was around 40 degrees when I got out at the BLM parking area to stretch and started to get ready to set out. My dog was really stoked (he knows we’re hunting when I put on my bird pouch and bust out the shotgun), and I was as happy as a pig in the mud. Sun was shining, and it had snowed a few days earlier so the red, tan, black, and green sagebrush-coated valley we started hiking down into was shimmering.

I had my big backpacking pack loaded to the brim with camping gear, winter gear, hunting and fishing gear, and dog stuff. I had my shotgun in hand (a double barrel 12g side-by-side), a field knife, and my Ruger .357 on my belt. I don’t always carry a sidearm, but with three days and two nights alone in an area infested with packs of coyotes (who don’t scare me but would love a golden retriever snack) and mountain lions (which definitely scare me), I figured why the hell not.

We (my dog and I) rucked about 6 miles into a more open part of the valley where I wanted to spend the first night. It was around 50 degrees at this point and absolutely beautiful, although quite muddy with the snow melting. I set up the tent on a little grassy plateau above the old trail, and put the dog in the tent with some water to chill for a bit to get his paws warmed up. 

I ate lunch and dumped most of my gear to set out with just my camelback, bird pouch, gun, and dog down further into the valley to start hunting (about as happy as a dude can be). It was slow hunting at first but eventually we flushed some quails and a few hen pheasants. After about 4 hours it was starting to get dark. We had bagged 3 quails and were working our way back to camp. This is when things got somewhat strange.

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anonymous asked:

Hey :) I am a big fan of yours and your art tutorials haven been incredibly helpful in my journey as an artist ( i still have a lot to learn :D but i feel much more confident now) I usually draw Supernatural and occasionally Hannibal, but my best friend watched Sherlock with me and I wanted to make an art calender containing different fandoms as a christmas present. My problem is BC's face is far from standard and i'm really struggling with the sherlock portraits. Could you maybe help me? <3

So I actually find him a little easier to draw because of his distinct features! Here’s my old tutorial for studying faces which I’ll run through again with BC’s face.

Once you’ve set up as many lines as you need you can start analyzing shapes

He’s got really heavy brows that look like wierd trapezoids haha ;; and his eye shape is similar but with a curved underside

The bridge of his nose is pretty wide and about the same width all the way down. Ends in a V shape 

Really pronounced cupid’s bow. Pretty much looks like 2 triangles connected at a point

And yeah! Just put it all together.

If you’re having trouble drawing portraits from different angles I’d be happy to take a look at what you’ve got and give you some feedback. My inbox is always open!

A Package Marked “Return to sender” - (by manen_lyset)

My neighbor is one of those annoying wannabe YouTube personalities. Over the years, I’ve seen him cough out cinnamon, lay flat on the hood of his car as it slowly creeps down the driveway, and douse himself in lukewarm water, all the while screaming epic win, epic fail, or, fuck, epic maintenance of the status quo, for all I know. It can get tiring to watch him go about his shenanigans in the pursuit of viral fame. So, when he knocked on my door the other day, told me he was going away for a few weeks, and asked that I get his mail, honestly, it was a relief. I can’t explain the peace of mind I had knowing I didn’t have to brace myself for any of his stupidity for a while. I was always afraid his stunts would wind up bleeding over into my life.

Things were pretty normal for the first couple of days. He received a few bills, a bit of spam, and what I could only assume was a birthday card. Then, one evening, I got home to find a cardboard box waiting on his front porch. In big red letters was written “Return to Sender”.

I’m no small fry, but I admit I had trouble lifting the box on my own. It was really freaking heavy. Lugging it across the road to my house was even harder, and I quickly realized there was no way I was going to drag it up the stairs and through my front door. I decided I’d leave his package in my garage. It wasn’t like I kept my car in there: the garage door was a piece of shit that refused to open without a good thug and a whack. It was less trouble just leaving the car in the driveway than it was to fight with the garage door every morning and night. In hindsight, I should have set the package down while I struggled to open the tricky door, but you know how it is when you’ve got a good grip on something, no point in setting it down if you don’t have to.

It was as I kicked the door for a third time that I lost my grip on the package, and it fell to the ground. I heard a light crack inside.

“Shit,” I cursed.

I hoped I hadn’t broken anything important, but figured I just wouldn’t tell my neighbor about it and let him assume the break happened en-route.

Hands free, I finally managed to get the garage door unstuck, and boy did it screech in protest as it rolled up and over me. I dragged the box the rest of the way, setting it in the corner for whenever my neighbor would come back to claim it. And then, I forgot all about it. Until a few days passed, that is.

I’m not sure exactly how long it took for the smell to waft in from the crack under the garage-to-house door, but it came in in slow progression. It was a sickly sweet odor similar to a skunk, and for the first few days after I smelled it, I genuinely assumed that’s exactly what it was: roadkill that had left its mark on my house. It was only when I realized the scent was growing more intense instead of fading that I went looking for a source. That’s when I opened the garage door, and that’s when the odor knocked me back, holding my nose.

The culprit wasn’t hard to identify. The only change in my garage was the box in the corner. I remember thinking it must have been one of those meat-of-the-month subscription boxes. The meat must have gone rancid from being left out of the fridge for so long. How much meat could have been in there for the box to have been so large and heavy? An entire freaking cow?

I covered my nose as I approached the box, a pair of scissors in my hands. I probably wouldn’t have needed them to open it, as it had become soggy enough at the bottom to poke through with a finger, but I wasn’t about to poke my finger into spoiled meat juices. That soggy bottom was the reason I had to open the box in the first place. If I tried to drag it out whole, everything would spill onto the floor. I was going to have to dump the pieces of meat one garbage bag at a time, and take them down to the dumpster, a process I wasn’t looking forward to.

My scissors tore through the tape along the top of the cardboard box. I thought the smell couldn’t get any worse, but as I flipped the flaps open, I discovered a whole new gamut of stink. It was like opening a burning oven, but instead of a heat wave, I was met with waves of piss, sweat, shit, and putrefaction. It was so bad that I staggered back and had to force down the puke begging to guzzle out of me. I don’t think I could have handled that scent mingling with the horrors coming out of the box. I’m not ashamed to admit I ran out the door for a breath of fresh air, but in the short time I’d spent in the garage, the smell had become so ingrained in the fabric of my clothes that it clung to me like a shadow.

Nothing I tried could keep the smell out of my nostrils. Not air fresheners, not a face mask, not three showers and a change of clothes. Every second that box lay open in my garage was another second the smell was allowed a foothold into my home. I had to bite the bullet.

I returned to the garage, the flaps of the box still open as though inviting me to look. I was prepared, a clothespin pinning my nostrils shut, a garbage bag in one hand, the strongest cleaner I could find in the other, and long rubber gloves to keep my skin from having to touch what was inside. But, as it turns out, I needed none of those things.

I wouldn’t have to touch or clean the contents of that box, I would only have to suffer the nightmares every night. You see, there was meat in that box, but it didn’t come from a cow or a pig. No, it was worse than that. It was my neighbor. Dead. Still in one piece, but dead.

I called the cops, and naturally, they took me in for interrogation. It’s kind of hard not to suspect the man with a corpse in his garage, after all. Thankfully, they soon realized I wasn’t involved. My DNA might have been all over that box, the smell might have left a mark throughout my house, but there was one piece of irrefutable evidence in my neighbor’s own hands that proved my innocence: a vlogging camera.

They showed me the footage only once. I’m not sure if they were allowed to, or if they felt so bad for me they figured it couldn’t hurt. Either way, I saw it.

My neighbor was sitting in the box outside of a shipping facility, laughing as he told the world how he was going to mail himself across state lines. He’d brought pee bottles, food, a pillow, and a few flashlights. His friend – a guy I’d seen at his place several times to help with his stunts –, closed the lid and presumably dropped him off for shipment. Throughout the next couple of hours…or days, I’m honestly not sure, my neighbor recorded a few short clips about his progress. ‘I think I’m in a truck now, I can feel it moving’, ‘Must be in a warehouse. Pretty warm here. Still got plenty of food!’, that kind of stuff. And then, on the last entry, the box toppled over. He broke his neck, and that was it. The camera recorded until either the memory card got too full, or the battery died.

There’s one thing I didn’t tell the police after they showed me the video. One thing I heard in the footage that will haunt me to the day I die. Just after the tumble that broke his neck, I heard the familiar screeching sound of my garage door.

Heads up for the new Future Tone players

Okay, so, I’ve been playing Diva for years, and Future Tone is on a whole new level compared to the other games, so here’s a little list of things to get you started, for those who purchased the western version a couple of days ago.

-Go straight in and purchase modules, using the recommended module for a song is gonna be good for you, seeing as there’s two trophies up for grabs for playing 39 Colourful Tone and 39 Future Sound songs with their recommended modules.
-Difficulty has been increased immensely, and it’s gonna take practise to get good at this game. Remember, this game is aimed at long term players, but being new to the game shouldn’t stop you, keep up the practise and you’ll soon be playing hard and extreme mode!
-Practise mode is a godsend, and is super helpful at letting you practise those tricky bits in songs you struggle with. You can skip back 10 seconds or back to the very beginning of the song, as well as choose the start time for the song.
-Complete/Continuous mode allows you to play through a full song with the pv in the background without dying, it’s good to help you learn to focus on a song and not get distracted by the pv.
-Some modules glow! I know this isn’t too exciting, seeing as this has been in previous games, but modules such as Len Append really, really glow this time, and it just adds to the aesthetic of the game.
-Use macro! If you don’t know what macro is, it’s changing the set up of buttons, so you can hit double notes, triples and quads by using one button. This is super helpful for 9/10 star songs. I personally have my L2 set as the quad button, and do the rest myself, but if you’re new to the game, play through at find out which buttons you struggle with, and then sort your macro out from there.
-By holding down L3 and R3 in the song selection menu, you’ll get yourself into a survival course! Survival courses are a great way to test your skill, and come in sets of difficulty by star, and a Miku Live course.
-DLC isn’t necessary for the game, but is fun to play. When the DLC for the western game comes out, and you have the money spare, I recommend getting it, as there’s some pretty fun songs from the Mirai Series, which are really nice to see make their way into the Diva Series.
-Extra Extreme doesn’t really mean anything, instead of being actually harder and faster to play like expected, it focuses more on note changes and technical difficulty, and is pretty easy to play if you can play extreme. In my view, extreme is actually harder than exextreme!
-Whilst watching a PV press triangle to take a photo, you can then go into your setting and change it so that any photos you take are set to your loading screen! I have a large collection of Len floating around for my loading screens lol.

If anyone can think of anything else, please add!

Why self-diagnosis is important and should be valued

When I was young, I walked, talked, read, and played computer games at an astonishingly young age.

When I was ready to go to school, I was tested to make sure I could handle it because I missed the kindergarten cutoff and they declared me ‘smart’. 

From the day I walked into elementary school, I was constantly ace-ing every exam and being given material from the grades above me. I was every teacher’s dream student–intelligent, great at memorizing for tests, and extremely diligent with my work.

But from the moment I walked into school, I was ostracized and hated by my peers because I was different. I used to pinch other kids, so they sent me to be tested for ADHD. But I didn’t have ADHD. I was just ‘smart’.

I used to be so absorbed with my special interests that other kids would taunt me all the way through high school. But there was nothing wrong with being different. I was just ‘smart’.

I used to say and do things that offended many people and made the other kids bully me. But I was just ‘smart’. 

I graduated high school at the top of my class, because I was just ‘smart’.

Then I went to work, and I started utterly failing at simple tasks. I was no longer ‘smart’ in the way the school system had set me up to think I was. I was intelligent, but I was struggling so hard because I had no idea why I was still so socially inept. 

I started researching autism when I was about fifteen, but at the time I felt so silly self-identifying and there was no way for me to pursue diagnosis. My self-diagnosis came after five years of reading materials and self-assessing using the same diagnostic tests used by psychologists (AQ, RAADS, and many others). But because I was just ‘smart’, there could obviously have never been anything wrong with me. No teacher or parent or anyone would take two seconds to put the pieces together that made it so obvious that I was autistic, because I was just ‘smart’. 

I am still undiagnosed because insurance is stupid and college eats a lot of money. But without my self-diagnosis, I would never have learned how to self-care. I wouldn’t have learned how to advocate for myself as an autistic even without a professional diagnosis. I wouldn’t have survived college, and I wouldn’t be surviving work. 

Because the current American school system equates being able to memorize with being intelligent, and because the field of psychology has systematically ignored female autistics for so long, I was the only one who ended up being ‘smart’ enough to figure out what my differences were and how to cope with them.

When someone has taken the time to both discover and accept that they have a disability or a mental illness, they are not vying for your attention or sympathy. They are not trying to be their own doctor. They’re just trying to survive.

anonymous asked:

Hi! First off, your art is literally eye candy. Love your various styles and vibrant colours. Second, speaking of colour, I've always stuck to classic black-and-white but recently began experimenting with colour on Photoshop. The outcome of my works however, generally end up flat & boring. I understand colour theory & such, but the issue is applying colours. So my question, how do you get colours to 'harmonize' with/without lineart, and just how to colour really haha. Thank you!

First: shucks. Thank you ^_^

Second: COLORRRR

OKAY. okay. I’m not nervous, who’s nervous? Talking about color is easy. You’re nervous.
I’ve had this question a few times and each time I get tied in knots trying to think of how to explain color.
More than almost anything it’s the sort of thing you have to show, and the sort of thing you have to practice over time yourself.
But there are a few tips I think I can offer.
First off, you’re working in black and white, great! That’s the first and most important step to good color. Pretty color is another matter, but good color relies on the structure of a piece or design and contributes to its clarity- it tells parts of the story that only color can. But it serves a goal- and more often than not that goal is clarity- and clarity comes from value structure.
Setting up strong black and white contrast- learning to direct the eye with light and shadow, figuring out how to use greys to emphasize or wash out portions of your composition- all of those are the key foundation of good color. Always keep the focus in your mind, especially when using bright and exciting colors- otherwise you’ll combine colors that fight the structure and the viewer won’t be able to make sense of what they’re looking at or where the important parts are.

If you know about color theory, you know that the most important principle is complimentary color contrast- it’s the most basic building block. Practice using basic pairings like blue/orange, red/green, and yellow/purple to understand how to direct the eye with color, the same way you already do with black and white.
Try exercises where you limit your palette with swatches or you mix actual paint to try and get the colors you want from only a few limited tubes. Trying to paint from life like this will teach you an enormous amount about the underlying structure of color before you move on to wild neon.

Commit to a period of time where you avoid pure black- look for dark, saturated complimentary colors to create shadows that won’t deaden the sense of volume the way adding pure black or grey will. Keep value structure in mind.
When I want to create a glowing warm orange light, I use blue and blue-purples in the shadows of the piece to create color contrast that punches the lights I eventually add.

Work dark to light (and try working light to dark as well, with a medium like watercolor). With dark to light you spend time first creating a “mud”- a value structure reliant first layer of the painting where you focus on the colors of the shadows, the fluctuations between warm and cold shadow- the local colors as they appear when they are outside of the light- make your mud interesting but not eye catching or very saturated. You are setting the table, here.
Build from that point- create bright points of focus with saturated and complimentary highlights on top of the “mud” (if the mud is a purple mud, mix yellows and golds into the highlights). This way of painting is really satisfying- putting controlled highlights on at the end can be the most fun part. We used to joke about it all the time in art school- it’s dinner time; the ecstatic moment you put the little bitty white shine on at the very end and everyone goes “ooOooh”
The satisfaction of that “ooOooh” moment will depend proportionally on how well you set the table with your complex, nuanced “mud” beforehand!

Most of my process revolves around paying attention first to the mud of a design- trying to pick colors that are harmonious (which is largely practiced intuition- but also has to do with grouping similar saturation levels and popping with calculated moments of complimentary contrast where I want to draw attention)- still, at the start nothing stands out especially- I’m putting down dishes before I serve up the turkey ;) Then I build in brightness and saturation to the areas of emphasis in the piece or on the character.

With my brighter, more candy-colored work, the process is different but the principles are similar- the “mud” of the piece is brighter, more saturated- the shadows often grouped in a low-ish saturation range of purples, blues and pinks- the highlights often coming in with warm golds. These pieces usually rely more on pure color contrast and slightly less on value structure for their oomph- but it’s all still there, under the surface.
After a while you’ll move past the simple complimentary color pairings and on to more subtle relationships of color, cooler light courses, bounce light and ambient occlusion, you’ll tell different stories with color based on insights you’ve gleaned from observation.
Sometimes it comes down to simply “I like that photo/painting/feeling/obscure memory from my childhood, and I’m going to try to copy it until I get it right.” You learn a lot along the way through copying- and there’s a huge complicated world of color out there with masterful luminaries and great fun to be had.

You can learn from the outside-in by copying and color picking from the masters, or from the inside-out by practicing exercises that will help build your skill. My advice?

Do both.

The biggest trick is just practice and time- if you set your mind to it, you will improve and eventually it will be second nature. I super duper hope this is helpful to you and to anyone else struggling (as I did, and I do) with color in their art! Be well :)

-n

okay so full disclosure: i’m not sure what this blog is going to look like as i am in treatment; i could sit here and say ‘i’m not going to blog about it!!! i’m not focusing on all of that blah blah blah’ but the reality is, it is inevitable (for me, someone who excessively blogs about their day lmao) to post about life and and this is is my life rn

having said that, i still want to maintain self-awareness and not hyperfocus on all things treatment related. and i’ll tag ‘treatment post’ bc i know it is a weird thing for a lot of ppl to hear about, myself included at times.

i don’t want to document all groups and meals and ‘today i got to walk outside! #grateful for sunshine!’ or ‘fuck body image :(((( refeeding :(((( meal plan increase :((((’ but i do want to use this as a space to reflect

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Looking Back

I dunno how to start off… but definitely, I need to give my thanks to everyone in the comment section and those who contacted me privately.  I apologize for ignoring notifications deliberately as I was too focused on my own faults and just didn’t feel courageous to reply back aside from work-related topics.

There is no concern that I’ll stop artsing what I love… that’s like giving up my life.  But the past days I’ve been struggling to figure out what I truly want and sadly, it isn’t drawing for my own sake or entertainment.  It’s to be recognized and acknowledged, as selfish as it is.  I unfortunately cannot bring myself to find pleasure for my own sake and instead, seek the reception of others.  And lately, I felt I’ve been ignored or pushed aside… starting since the beginning of the year.

The past few months have not been too kind to me on social networks.

There was a time in several Discord servers where I was, admittedly, kicking ass in Splatoon and got many peps salty, even making myself leave since I couldn’t handle the hate.  And someone dissing on my art and even saying I shouldn’t be here.  I even attempted to help out an artist, but later realized they have been deliberately ignoring me, even when I checked in, willing to help.  No answer.  And so I stopped there as it was not worth my time to assist them (and turns out I wasn’t the only one receiving this end of the stick, so good riddance).

It became harder and harder to really feel proud and happy for myself.  I have done wrong things, others have wrong things, but regardless of the faults, it’s been a struggle to really push forward and appreciate myself.  Not just in art, but in gaming, interacting…

And here, I am grateful for being a well-known fanartist… but I also hate it.  Many of you guys are expecting my art and comics, but I feel like a disappointment that I am unable to relive my moments as I did whilst writing TVA and Rainmaker.  I am NOT N-joying doing my comics and arts now.  Back then, I seriously didn’t consider numbers, I just wanted the story and theme to get through to everyone… but now, it’s the other way around, with my mind dead set on getting more attention.  My Pokemon comic isn’t doing as well as I wanted it to be, my Splatoon universe is feeling forgotten and overshadowed…

I am setting too high of expectations and goals for myself.  I get very discouraged when they never succeed.  And it felt like that for the past months.  I don’t acknowledge the small ones, I strive for the big ones.  But I don’t feel myself getting anywhere closer, if not, my expectations are declining and my fear increases.  We all strive for greatness and improvement, but I sadly haven’t been feeling it.

When hardly anyone showed up in my recent streams, I canceled the recent one because I felt too much of a failure to continue on.  I ended up moving it as a Patreon goal (also clarification, the goal has to be met so that I can stream publicly, not tied to only my Patrons), which was a rather bad move, but to me, it didn’t matter when I don’t get an audience.  Hardly anyone comes by, so I just saw no point in doing them, even if we reach the goal.  I see people getting 20+ peps, but I can’t even reach half that number.  It was a huge blow to my confidence as an artist overall.

Finances, money, or fame was never the issue.  It’s just me, struggling to accept the realities that I will probably never meet my own expectations.  And it hurts, a lot, that when I can’t reach them, I fail and feel discouraged.  I grew up being a perfectionist and I felt I was achieving those milestones when I first started.  Now I struggle to recognize that I can’t win them all and it’s the reality I don’t want to accept.  Being wrong.

Right now, on all my sites, I felt I’ve disappointed all of you, but above all, myself, that I will never appreciate myself.  We’re all human, we all make mistakes and faults, but I feel I’ve made too many blunders here.  Which is why I was conflicted whether or not I leave.  I’ve already made my choice long ago that I will continue doing what I love, no matter how many complaints I write about myself.  But I keep wallowing in the bad things more than good, as well as thinking back more on my own failures than successes.  I am still not happy while writing this journal, nor does it really change anything aside from the fact I’ll never quit here.  Even now, I lack the courage and motivation to work on anything.

Despite being in a pinch for money, I refuse to sell commissions right now.  I’m sorry, but I feel too much for a failure to even start on them.  There are far better, successful artists out there and I wouldn’t mind giving recommendations.  But please understand I just don’t deserve to do commissions.  I would say the same for my Patrons, but they have already paid for this month, so they must be awarded.  Plans have not changed otherwise, so the Patreon-only Discord will still be going down by end of the month, if not, earlier.

I still have some old doodles that I might post over on my tumblr sites, but don’t expect anything new.  I don’t have any new artworks to show nor motivation to make new ones.

Thank you again for your feedback.  I truly appreciate it and I’m sorry I can’t respond aside from work-related stuff such as Patreon.  Personal responses I can’t give for the time being as I’m worried I’ll lash out, so I’m so sorry about that.

I’m sorry if this journal doesn’t make anyone here happy.  As much as I don’t want to worry all of you, I can’t stop bottling these feelings anymore.  Nothing nor no one was able to give me the solution I desperately needed and I cannot assure whether or not I’ll get over this internal dilemma.  I don’t wanna hide it anymore or worse, lie about it.  These doubts I recover within a few hours, but it’s been only two, if not, three days that I’m having such continuous thoughts.  Who knows how long I’ll get over it…

Regardless thank you for reading, peps.


One  |  Issues by Julia Michael   ***   // Masterlist // 

Summary: Stuck on the planet of Takodana alongside smuggler Nadaline Rose, Lyra Khaar believes that her chances of leaving have passed. Across the stars, however, Ben Solo struggles with his own demons as he is set to the task of training under the mentorship of Luke Skywalker, among a new generation of Jedi. Through a force bond, the two find each other, and as celestial beings, the Galaxy flings their paths together in the most unpredictable of ways. 

Note: Okay so I’ve had this idea in my head for a while now (aka for over a year) and I had started to write it, but I got bored with it? Because I didn’t know how to get my ideas out, so I’m gonna try this again. Sigh. It’s a really really good story so I’m excited to share it with you guys.

Tags: @kyloholic 

Words: 5.2 K +

Warning: alcohol  


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Keep reading

More from Strangers: Homosexual Love in the Nineteenth Century

1) The distinction between public vs. private expression was very important for people who were gay. In private correspondence, many men were able to indulge their “unabashed” homosexuality (i.e. write love letters); in public, often these same men were married or engaged or supposed to be in love with women. Some of these letters (amazingly) survive – yet how many have been lost to fire or sunk in the sea, we’ll never know.

2) Fear of literature or art being labeled as homosexual was a worry for many. Naturally, writers and artists were frustrated with the limitations that this ridiculous fear put on their work. In 1896, one man questioned, “So now every tragic character will be forced to encumber himself with a woman for fear of being taxed with homosexual inclinations?” Hence, writing in female love interests or… wives.

3) Peter Doyle, the love of Walt Whitman’s life, said this of their meeting:

“We felt to each other at once. […] Something in me made me do it and something in him drew me that way. […] We were familiar at once - I put my hand on his knee - we understood.”

Originally posted by mishasteaparty

4) Paging @heimishtheidealhusband! A man called Edmund Gosse, when describing the experience of being gay and closeted, compared it to imagery associated with the Gothic horror story – a setting/concept more people could understand.

5) Surprise! The words “abominable” and “martyrs” show up a lot – like a lot, a lot – in descriptive language associated with homosexuality and the struggle for recognition, safety, and acceptance.

6) Does anyone remember which ACD story this quote is from?

They lived together and seldom parted. […] A subtle fire ran through their veins at every accidental touch. Whenever they caught sight of one another unexpectedly, they were filled with inexplicable rapture. They stayed up all night together, and when the grey light of dawn forced them to seek the rest that the excited mind refused the exhausted body, their farewells continued on the doorstep in conversations that lasted hours. […]

No? Perhaps because it’s from Venus Urania (1798) by Friedrich von Ramdohr. It told the bitter-sweet tale of two men who met in a famous German academy. Sadly, it ends with them realising they’re in love with each other – including both manifesting the “crude symptoms of physical sexual sympathy” (hint hint) during an embrace. They force themselves apart and settle for a tender respect, with more distance, in their relationship.

Did ACD ever read this book? Who knows. What we do know is that whenever it was told, the traditional story of two men who obviously love each other usually seemed to end pretty sadly.

Luckily, now we’ve got a story where “the thrill of the chase” and the “blood pumping through your veins is followed by “just the two of us against the rest of the world” – so maybe this ending won’t turn out to be so sad.

[Previous posts in this series here.]