maybe... (

Finished up the second sketch of that cute moment between the Blue Boi Ethan(@crankgameplays) and Chica in the stream yesterday. 💕

I decided to draw Citron….I’ve probably had to fix everything about 20 times…
I like how it’s coming together…….
I’ve had about 50 breakdowns since beginning this.
*crying in the corner drenched in my own tears*

anonymous asked:

Also have people forgotten what motivates Rick? And that it makes him different from Negan? Rick Grimes loves. He loves his children and Michonne and he loves his people. He doesn't want to be their overlord, he wants to be a father, a husband, a friend. Do you think Negan is as tender with his "wives" as Rick is with Michonne? Do you think Negan would've defended the children at Oceanside like Rick did? No because Negan takes delight in the horror, Rick takes delight from his beloved ones.

3

@banana-sims tagged me to do the no filter challenge!

No Filter Challenge by @butterfly-tattoo

RULES: take a picture of the sim that’s normally associated with your blog (your legacy founder/lead character in your story etc.), now take away all their cc (except their hair, eyebrows, and skin color), then do a before and after picture

tbh i think knox looks fine either way lmao anyways idk who’s done this so if ya wanna do it say i tagged you or something!

4

post-All Night Gang again

thought it’d be interesting if Ran learned about Efune’s actual intentions, and perhaps decided to visit him with Shinichi/Conan after it stops stinging that someone she trusted was grooming her for kidnapping. Just to see what became of the guy, his wife and his wife’s brother, maybe. Might leave that up in the air, might comic it out.

Part 1 because I know I’m doing at least another one on the subject

So I work for my local Child Protective Services...

And everyone’s response is the same when they hear this: sympathy, they could never do my job, ouch, etc. Very appropriate responses, but all of these are typically in regards to the families I work with.

I will be honest: many of the parents I encounter should never have been parents. Ever. Many should not even be trusted with a cactus, nonetheless another living being. However, most of my families AREN’T like this, and the ones which are like this I tend to give some slack, even as I’m working like hell to keep their kids safe. Many of them have severe mental health issues, and many have been told, despite not having a parenting bone in their body, that they SHOULD be parents and they needed to grow up and BE parents, without ever acknowledging that parenting is completely beyond their abilities.

Which brings me to the frustrating portion of the job: people who SHOULD know better and yet don’t. 

These are the supposedly mentally healthy, educated, intelligent beings who return to the children to the parents against all evidence pointing out how terribly this will end. These are the people who struggle to provide evidence against the parents in court because they want to be liked and they don’t want to bad talk the parents. These are the people who close their eyes against warning sign after warning sign because despite multiple HORRIFIC failures, they want to give these parents a chance, because they’re sure that these parents love their children and want the best for them…deep down. Really deep down.

There is a view on what parenting is supposed to be and what the relationship between parents and their children are supposed to be and don’t get me started on the myths regarding maternal instincts. It’s easy to get wrapped up in ideals and ignore the blatant evidence right in front of them, and the result is too many children being endangered…and in some cases, depending on the children, people AROUND the children being endangered.

I had one adoptive parent, who was related to the father, be so upset because the father couldn’t “man up” and take responsibility because he was signing away his rights to the child. I had to convince her that he WAS fulfilling his responsibility: by recognizing that he could not possibly parent the child and was allowing the child to grow up in a good home.

I’m childfree, and I’ve heard multiple times that I should have kids and I would be such a good mother and blahblahblah. Being childfree has given me a perspective a lot of people around me don’t have. These people believe that everyone should have children and everyone has the instinct to love, protect, and nurture those children. This can lead to actively dangerous situations for the children, and even when the parent states that they can’t do it, that they hate the child, that they want someone else to have the child, I still hear judges and counselors and service providers insisting that if the parent just had a LITTLE MORE HELP…

So, no. It’s typically not the parents which make my job so hard. It’s the people who should know better and get confused when everything goes to hell.

Confessing to Baze, his friend of so many years, the one from whom he had become inseparable from even in childhood, was a daunting task. But he did it – because love, too, cannot be stopped, can’t be torn away from him, nor would he ever lie to the other. He considered a range of possibilities from the negative (awkwardness, the erosion of their friendship, the unlikely but still frightful disgust) to the positive (acceptance, happiness, maybe even reciprocation). But Chirrut never expected this. Baze doesn’t just reciprocate his feelings; he treasures them, gives them back tenfold, years of pent-up affection spilling out at the first opportunity this poor neglected boy has ever had. Every moment alone, there are Baze’s hands at his shoulder, his waist, his cheek, not quite possessive but appreciative in a way that makes Chirrut’s face go red. It almost hurts, sometimes, to think how completely Baze has been without love his whole life to make him so thankful just to be cared for. Despite the pain that lurks between hugs and kisses taken with shy eyes and hesitant smiles at every single chance, Chirrut catches his tears only once. Baze sleeps with his head on Chirrut’s chest, his body curled close, needy, though innocently – they haven’t even broached the topic of sex yet, both still content with exploring one new feeling at a time. Chirrut has barely drifted off when he feels Baze shudder (doesn’t hear him, there’s nothing to hear) and a moment later senses the dampness on his shirt where Baze hides his eyes.

“Baze…?”

“Don’t go,” He whispers hoarsely, whether it’s brought on by the remnant of a nightmare or a memory or just one of those worries that seems to plague him constantly. “Please don’t go.”