maybe because i rarely look in the mirror

Guardian (VI)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You/Jongdae/Baekhyun

Rating: PG

Word Count: 2,444

Summary:  You keep seeing the same guy everywhere you go. In the coffee shop, on the streets, in your philosophy class. It’s getting to the point where you think he’s stalking you - only to realize that maybe there’s something much more mysterious at play here. (AU: Chen is your guardian angel)

Originally posted by porkdo-bi


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5

First, I’m actually happy you think so. I really liked Harry and I miss the time I played with him but I’m happy there is a little of him in the way Rose looks. :)

Although, I feel like Rose is the one who looks the less like Harry now that I made some portraits comparison. She has a lot of her father’s genetic, Fox, which I tried to give more diversified features. And I’m very happy with how she turned out! I can’t wait to see what Oliver looks like.

I think maybe you feel like gen 4 resembles gen 1 because I edit the offsprings a little when they age up and it might just be my “sim aesthetic” that makes them look alike. lol I do try to keep their original features though, I usually just give them a chin, I check their profiles (because often, they look very good from the front and then, you rotate the sim and wow lmao), I rarely change them radically.

Also, maybe your sims don’t look alike from one generation to the other because of the partner? When I try to make my sims have babies with a EA townie or with someone else’s sim, they look very different. I think it’s because we tend to give our sims some general features we’re used to in real life. A very simple example: Every sim I make have almost the same nose because a “normal” nose for me is the nose I see everyday in the mirror (aka mine). I mean, not everyone does it. Maybe I’m the only one. But I’m used to my own face you know? So I feel like unconsciously, I use it as a base and then, I work from there and I put on my sims the things I find more beautiful on a human. 

So, my point is my sims all look alike because I work with one template in mind and alike features + alike features = alike features. When I try to pair my sim with a townie, the townie brings very different features (often not very nice ones, I’ll dare say) so the children look very different from the one I originally made.

I feel like I’m saying stupid stuff lol so I’ll stop here but @nony, genetic works in amazing ways and it’s totally normal if your gen 2 heir doesn’t look like your founder. If you don’t like how they look, change it a little; that’s what I do and I know a lot of other people do it as well. :)

Have a good day and I’m sorry if I lost you with my answer! lol ❤️

2

I just want to post something I’ve been meaning to post for a while. I don’t owe an explanation to anybody but myself, but here is just a little/big update and a thank you to the rare few who have stuck by me, even though my blog hasn’t been as active.

I struggle to look at myself in the mirror, that’s why I haven’t been posting selfies. The reason for less personal posts is because I don’t want to constantly bombard everyone who follows me with stress and negativity. My self esteem and how I feel about my external appearence is extremely low and it hasn’t been this bad since maybe 2010. My mental health is not okay but I am fighting back to stay in the rae game.

I took these selfies before a restaurant shift tonight where I found myself crying in the staff toilet because I felt so uncomfortable in my clothes. I was working with someone with the same name and she was named ‘little rachael’ and I was named ‘big rachael’ and I automatically assumed it was meant as malice as she was so tiny and i feel so huge… rather than a big age gap.

I am making a change tomorrow and I am hoping that I can keep on moving forwards and whilst this post is doom and gloom please know that you can expect bigger things from me now as I try to take control again.

Thank you again to those who have been so kind to me and stuck by me over the last months. You are amazing.

anonymous asked:

ENDO, I am your biggest fan and you're my new inspiration. But while I'm typing this, I feel like giving up drawing, because my drawing skills are not perfect and my arm hurts. I crave for a new art style, I want to become a new thing and your art inspires me, but it also hurts me. Because your art is straight edge and angular, and I love it. I try to practice, I try hard, but my arm hurts, my arm muscles tighten, it's frustrating, and it's not even good to my standards. How do I cope with this?

You kinda caught me with my trousers down, this may be the realest question I’ve ever answered. You’ve just opened the floodgates, so awake, avast, hold tight your buns, if buns you do hold dear. 

I think maybe art is one of the most organic experiences a human can go through, besides going though childbirth, or eating kale. Art might not be as physically painful as either of those, but I’m willing to go out on a limb and say it’s DEFINITELY as emotionally painful for some people, myself included

Did you know I hate my art?

I hate it, hate it, hate it to little bloody pieces

It makes me wanna crawl right out of my fucking skin

I didn’t used to though, and I still haven’t found out when or why I started, despite having scoped it out from every angle. At some point I realized that the art I drew in no way resembled or bore aspects of any of the styles that I held close to my heart; my style was and is unique, and it represents who I am, but it isn’t what I wanted. I don’t know that my style will EVER be what I wanted.

But here’s the thing. Let’s say that in the same fashion I tried to emulate someone’s style, so did you. Let’s say that you manage to perfectly incorporate my style into yours to the point that someone wouldn’t be able to tell my art from yours.

Our styles would cancel each other out.

By having no singularly individual aspect of our art, we lose our uniqueness. Us artists are not supposed to perfectly copy another style; we are not conveyor belts or printers robots

So only recently have I learned to accept and love my style, because just like we can look at our faces in a mirror and not see its true shape, artists can rarely see the value and style of our own art. Maybe I will always hate my art, but I hate it a lot less as of late, having learned that it inspires people, which is something I never thought would happen. I honestly never have and never will consider myself an inspiration, but the fact that people have come forward to tell me I inspire them is the main reason I cry myself to sleep. So maybe you can’t see your value, but I assure you there are close friends and admirers who love you and your art very, very much.

And maybe that’s what really matters? I don’t know.

As for giving up drawing? I don’t know if I really believe anyone can give up drawing. I’ve gone through some month-long intervals where even attempting to draw sent me into literal spasms. But any stress I had was entirely situational, and in the long run I knew I would never stop drawing, even if I couldn’t draw at the time.

I think the best way I heard it put was that “A tree cant bear fruit all year round”. Or something along those lines. And it’s true. Taking breaks from art don’t mean you’re giving up, it’s as vital to keeping your art healthy as is sleep. I feel it’s necessary to function properly.

Also for the arm pain? I’m not a doctor or anything, like I thought my heart was behind my bellybutton until I was a freshman. But I guess maybe consider some kind of like arm brace? And try that ice first, heat later therapy shit for a few days. If'n the pain persists, maybe talk to the doc? It could be that Carpet Tunnel shit. I never got it, and I draw with my legs behind my head.

If there was more for me to say, then I forgot what it was, but I hope this unnecessarily long post helps a little bit. I have the nagging feeling it won’t.

I’ve come to the conclusion that no one can see their own beauty. We’re like vampires. We can admire another’s pretty smile or pale skin but when a mirror is handed to us we don’t know what we’re looking at. And I think it’s sad. We can name so many things we like about someone else with such confidence but when it comes to ourselves we rarely see anything we like with complete certainty. I hope one day someone creates that mirror. I’d like to meet someone who loves themselves. Truly loves themselves. I hope one day I can be that person, but for now I’m okay with glitter pulsing from my veins. When you leave I’ll fill your suitcases with mirrors of all kind. Because I dont think you’re a vampire and one day, maybe you might accidently look in the mirror and see what I see. I’ll build you a house of mirrors one day so you’ll be reminded just how great you are, even when you’re taking a massive shit. Baby don’t question the stars, they’re older than you, and they’re already dead so that would be fucking stupid. But even though the stars in your eyes are dead, you are alive. You are here. And you are so damn beautiful.

Fright Night: Chapter 1

My Halloween story is here! Sorry about it being late, lost track of time. Now I like it so I’m posting the first one if nothing else, I would like it if you liked it too but that’s on you…hope you like it!

Also, here’s the prologue, you don’t really need to read it but you should:

http://rocioclifford.tumblr.com/post/97852258734/its-called-fright-night-tell-me-what-you-think


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Google was no help. I never thought anyone would say that, but here I am sitting on bed looking at search results that make me sound crazy.

Maybe I am.

Maybe Calum just put a trick mirror in my room, yeah that was probably it.

“Loser!” The voice boomed through the house, the sound of the front door slamming and multiple pounding steps downstairs showed he wasn’t alone, “Come here!”

Shutting my laptop I pushed myself off my bed, walking to open the door before it was pushed open, “What are you doing?” Ashton, Calum’s eldest friend, questioned.

“About to go downstairs…” I said slowly.

Laughing he walked past me and looked around my room, “No, I think you were waiting for me.”

Waiting for him, was he mental? “What?”

Letting his fingers dance across my messy bed he spoke, “I’ve seen the way you’ve looked at me, it’s clear what you want.”

Okay he’s defiantly loosing it, “Listen, Ashton, I’m just gonna go to Cal-”

“No you’re not.” A creepy smile was on his lips as he stalked toward me, “And do you know why?”

Backing up until I closed the door with my body, I asked, “Why?”

The light from the fan seemed to be shaded by his tall figure, leaning over me I felt his icy cold breath on my neck, “He’s not here.”

My eyes darted around us as I slipped past him and out my door, “Calum!” I called. My feet carried me down the stairs and into the living room, it was just as empty as it was less than thirty minutes ago, “Cal?” Slower, I went into the kitchen, thinking that the endless pit he called a stomach was being fed, but it wasn’t.

“See?” Ashton said from the doorway, making me jump.

“Where is he?” I demanded.

“You know,” he laughed a bit, “it’s only four days away from Halloween and Cal told me you didn’t want to be with us then, I gotta say that I’m upset.”

“Ashton, tell me where Calum is.” I demanded, ignoring his statement.

Leaning on the doorway he looked over his nails, “Don’t know, baby, but let’s not worry about big bother right now.” In a flash he was in front of me, his lips only inches away from my own, “It’s just you and me.”

“Loser!” Calum called as he slammed the front door closed, two other footsteps followed, “Come here!”

Ashton groaned before pushing himself away from me, “In here!”

Calum was in the kitchen within a second, looking dead at Ashton, “You’re here?”

“Where else would I be?” Ashton said as he were annoyed with his best friend.

Calum’s eyes darted between us, “How long have you been here?”

“Not long enough.” He said in the same tone.

Calum straightened up, pulling me toward him, “Come help me outside.”

“I-uh, okay.” I spit out as I was dragged out the door, quickly brought to his old red car.

“What were you two doing?” Calum yelled.

Throwing up my hands, I leaned back on the hood, “He just came up to my room, I ran downstairs looking for you, and then you showed up.”

He looked at me for a moment, thinking quiet hard, “Did you think I was home?” It almost sounded mocking, but the hint of concern made me think otherwise.

“Yes.” I answered sheepishly, feeling embarrassed by the truth of my own imagination.

Nodding he looked up to the sky, as if searching for invisible answers, “Okay.” He started mumbling something, too low for me to make out but the constant rumble from his lips.

“What?” I questioned, thinking he was talking to me.

Shaking his head the mumbling was quicker, making me more concerned. “Cal…Cal what are you saying?” Trying to make my voice sound comforting I walked closer to him, reaching my hand out.

A loud crack of thunder made me jump back. “Fuck!” Calum yelled out, throwing his head back as his hands ran threw his hair, “Fuck.”

Looking up in the sky, I saw no clouds, no sign of a storm or anything, “Well that’s nature for you.”

“Yeah,” he laughed, “nature.” Walking away from his spot on the porch, he went to sit on the curb, putting his head in his hands.

“What’s wrong with him?” The voice took me by surprise, making me jump again. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

Laughing a bit I said, “It’s okay, Luke, and I don’t know.” Luke was probably the only one I could see a possible friendship with, I called him the most normal of the four. He didn’t do much of the crazy stuff the others did, he just watched, never saying much.

He nodded, “Mumbling?”

“Yeah…” Since Calum had only been living with us for a month—having been somewhere out of the country for the past two years—I was still learning about him.

“He does that when he’s angry, guessing it involves Ashton?”

“Yeah.”

Luke slightly nodded before walking over to his friend, sitting down next to him, “You can’t be angry at him.” That’s true, Ashton is one of his best friends.

“Luke, you know what he wants and I told him from the start that she was off limits!” Calum yelled, but quickly turned to a loud whisper in fear that I could hear. Sucks for him.

“Doesn’t matter what you say, and you know that, Ash’ll do what he wants.”

Calum quickly stood up, “I know that! That’s what makes me so pissed, he has us, isn’t that enough?” Okay now it’s getting awkward.

“I’ll be inside!” I spoke out suddenly, rushing toward the door, not wanting to face the two boys. The sound of them calling after me was cut off by the slamming of the door. “Woah.” I breathed out, not really able to process the newly found information on Calum and his friends.

“Wanna play a game, kitten?”

The alluring voice belonged to Michael Clifford, the mysterious one of Calum’s friends. He wasn’t always over like the other two, but when he was he demanded that his presences be known. It was usually through his new hair color, which now was a bright red. Sticking in different directions just asking my hands to run through them while he-

“Kitten, answer me.” I didn’t realize until now how close he was, and that I was laying on the sofa with him hovering over me.

“Uh…what’s the game, Michael?” Unlike Luke, a friendship could never exist between us, because I wanted so much more.

Smirking at me he let his lips trace light patterns on my neck, “Let’s just say…it’ll feed my desire.”

Letting my hands finally wonder into his soft hair I moaned as he started leaving his mark all over my neck, “Michael.” I whispered out.

“Just be quiet, wouldn’t want big bother to hear.” One arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer to his body as the other steadied himself on the arm rest.

“That’s enough, Michael.” Ashton’s voice sounded through the room, as if he were right next to us, but once Michael jumped back I saw it was just us.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He kept repeating, looking down, a light blush creeping on his face.

My breath was caught in my throat as I looked at him, his skin looked pale (except for the red tint to his cheeks), face sunken in and lips thin, white and cracked. “Are you okay?”

His eyes flashed up to meet mine, his pupils were so dilated that you could hardly see the white, “Ye-yes I’m fine.” Just as quick as he spit out the sentence he was gone, leaving me alone in my living room.

“Loser!” Calum’s voice boomed through the house, a slight laugh left Luke as he, Ashton and Michael stumbled into the house, “Come here!” Looking around he noticed I was already there, “Oh, good.”

I could feel everything inside me turn, what is this? Am I being forced to live some type of obscure dream over and over again? Or are they just messing with me, making me think that I’m really going insane; just pushing me to my breaking point so that they can laugh at me.

“What’s been up, kitten?” Michael asked in a low voice as he sat down next to me, letting his hand secretly roam my upper leg.

“What the fuck?” I yelled, jumping up only to bump into Calum.

Grabbing my arms he laughed, “What’s gotten into you?”

They wanted my breaking point? Well they can have it, “I have heard you yell ‘Loser!’ and ‘Come here!’ three times today! Each time something different happens, weird shit goes down and it starts over again! I don’t know what type of game you guys are playing, but I am done!”

Calum let his grip loosen on me, all eyes in the room traveling to Ashton. “Tell me you didn’t.” He pleaded to his older friend.

Ashton gave off a look I wasn’t expecting, fear. “I did.” He confirmed, “But she isn’t supposed to know.”