the tone control


The #Supergirl guitar is finally finished


2 piece swamp ash body, 1 piece maple neck, stainless steel frets, 7.25″ freatboard radius, TV Jones Classic Plus brdige pickup, Seymour Duncan Vintage Stack neck pickup, Hipshot bridge, 1 volume and 1 tone control, 3 way toggle switch, 50s wiring, Kluson Deluxe tuner.

The SUPERGIRL inlays on the fretboard are aluminum, The inlays on the back are aluminum, copper and brass. The symbol is also made of copper and brass and the ‘belt’ of brass.

thosebearsthough  asked:

Hi! I am interested in your post about how the closet was more than just media training. I'm new and have found it hard to decide whether I think Harry and Louis are still together. Part of that is just coming in at a point when interaction between them is nonexistent. But another part is that the Louis of now is quite the departure from the Louis of early years. It almost appears that Harry has become more flamboyant and Louis less. Do you think it's intentional or just how they've handled it?

First, I always think that the belief of whether Harry and Louis are still together doesn’t actually impact the reality. Either they are or they’re not; what we think doesn’t really change that.

Second, if they are, then they are choosing not to come out for the time being, whether it’s due to legal constraints (because of contractual obligations) or to considerations for their personal lives and career. We know that certain aspects of their lives can be kept very private if they wish (they can travel incognito most of the time, major events about their families have been kept secret).

I was talking with a friend about the differences between video and still photography. Still photography can be controlled and edited. Danielle and Louis can appear to be happy together (Louis’ birthday photo 2016), but intimacy in video is hard thing to fake. Louis has never shown any real warmth or intimacy with any woman he has been romantically linked to. His papped photos with Briana (May 2015) showed his expressions of indifference and disdain.

Louis’ body language toward Harry has consistently been inclusive, intuitive, and intimate, UNLIKE his body language with anyone else– even when everything else about him has been muted, controlled, and toned down, even in 2015, when they supposedly hated each other. When they were within vicinity of each other, it was impossible to miss their awareness of each other.

Harry and Louis are tactile people. They like to touch and be touched. It’s more the pity that 1DHQ forced the other boys to imitate this love of touch so HL’s behavior wouldn’t stand out. Again, video is revealing. The most tender moments of touch occurred when they believed they weren’t on camera. The tenderness is something difficult to fake, and it was from both H and L.

Harry in particular liked to leave signals to the fandom about Louis, and he still does. Isolated things like Louis’ IG selfies or his shirts that communicate signals, or his black and white IG post at the Donny house, or the ridiculously intimate gestures on the interview with Nick (the one where Harry was on voice rest) or Harry’s bee tattoo– might be explained away as coincidence, but when taken in the context of their history, are, to me, obvious. Just look at the clip where they are talking to fans about the Donny dome– Harry’s stolen glances at Louis tell you everything you need to know about how in love he is with that boy. He doesn’t just love Louis, he cares about Louis’ being endeared by that fan, he cares about Louis’ love of his hometown. The glances occurred so fast and so surreptitiously, they were obviously not meant to be noticed– something, imho, that is impossible to fake.

Those terrible, hesitant sounds Harry made when asked directly whether Sweet Creature was about Louis? Not fake.

The terribly tender expression when he’s performing Two Ghosts, live. Who else could that song be about, really?

The beaming smiles they have when one is about to travel to the same location as the other, even now.

I think I’m convinced that they’re still together only because of knowing their personalities through their history, and piecing together the evidence. As I said, what I think doesn’t change the reality, and if reality shows me something different, I’m willing to change my opinion.

So Far Gone
Thousand Foot Krutch

(So Far Gone)

Quite a number of you were pretty upset with the first 4 frames I posted as wips(it was very entertaining to read some of your tags) but don’t worry!! Makoto and Haru will get through anything and they’ll come out stronger. Keep your heads up!!

Also I’m sorry that it’s such a long post(especially if you’re not into Free! or makoharu)!


my favorite younghyun thing is when he introduces himself as day6’s rapper and bassists before proceeding to blow everyone’s mind away with his angelic vocals

Annoying Dean

I have no clue where this came from. Thanks to a medical diagnosis, steroids and a badly timed coffee, I was bouncing off the walls today and with that energy this came out…

Warnings: energy out the wazoo, unbeta’d, smut talk I think, fluff, if you have siblings or friends who can’t appreciate a sleep in - sorry!
Word Count: 1329

Originally posted by dive-into-the-spidey-life

“Deany, bo-beany, Ma-meany, Deany, sashimi, key-me, so-steamy, Deany!” I sung, jumping up and down on his bed, narrowly avoiding his calves as I landed and bounced up again.
“Piss off.” Dean groaned, ripping the pillow out from under his head and smothering his face with it, pulling it tight around his ears.
“Get up, Deany!” I huffed, how did kids keep this up for so long? It was tiring jumping up and down on a hard, motel mattress.
“Stop!” He growled, throwing the pillow at me, adding another annoyance to his morning. I caught it and integrated it into my athletic routine, smacking it against his chest as I jumped.

Keep reading

continued from yesterday’s request.


Click for: [Part 1]

MC Breaks Something Important to RFA [2]


—AU where MC is his assistant.

  • You strolled Saeran’s office lazily, bored of having nothing to do while he typed away on his computers. A framed photo sitting on top of a drawer caught your eye, and you walked towards it curiously.
  • It was… a photo of himself?
  • You furrowed your eyebrows, only to quickly realize it was actually Luciel Choi in the picture.
  • “Saeran,” you called, waving the photo in your hands, “Why do you have a picture of your bro-“
  • Before you could finish your sentence, the frame slipped out of your hands, crashing onto the floor.
  • Saeran’s eyes hardened at you, and he stomped over, grabbing you by the wrist. “What do you think you’re doing!?” he hissed. “Who gave you the right to snoop around my stuff, huh?”
  • You stumbled, slightly taken aback. “I’m sorry for breaking it, but… don’t you hate your brother? Why would you have a picture—”
  • He silenced you with a warning glare, and you knew to shut up.
  • Later, you found him huddled in the bathroom, despairing over how to fix the photo frame. You wondered what was so special about it—the photo inside was safe, but why was he fretting over the frame so much?
  • He noticed you in the mirror, and sighed. “Don’t sneak up on people like that.”
  • You shrugged, sauntering over to him. “So are you going to tell me anything?”
  • Saeran side-glanced at you, then pressed his lips into a line. “One question.”
  • “Well, what’s so special about the photo frame?”
  • “…Different question.”
  • “Why do you have a photo of Luciel Choi if you hate him so much?”
  • He averted his eyes, and you knew before he even answered you that it was a lie. But his voice was smooth and there wasn’t a stammer in his words. “So I can remember the face of the person I want dead, of course.”
  • Even his explanation sounded ridiculous—Luciel was his identical twin brother. What a lame excuse, you thought, shaking your head.
  • Saeran cast another glare at you, but there was a faint blush on his cheeks, as if he was embarrassed to have said anything. He shoved you aside as he walked away, and you couldn’t help but stare after him, wondering what secrets the mysterious man held…


  • Your arms were wrapped around his neck while his hands roamed all around your body, making you shiver with anticipation.
  • His lips were locked on yours in a heated kiss, and you were starting to have trouble in keeping up. You needed to breathe, but he wasn’t getting the hint, thinking that the hand you pressed against his chest was sexual… So you flailed your arms about, hoping to catch his attention, but you accidentally knocked over a glass trophy from the drawer.
  • He broke the kiss immediately, letting go of you as his eyes followed the falling trophy. His hand reached towards it, trying to catch it before it fell to the floor… but he was too late.
  • It shattered. Zen stared wide-eyed at the glass pieces—he felt like he was staring at his heart. Broken.
  • Your hand flew to your mouth as you gasped. It was the first trophy Zen had won, showing that he was the “Best Actor of the Year.” It was the symbol of not only his transition from theatre acting to movie acting but also all the hours of practice he’d put up with, all the criticism he’d moved on from, and all the effort he’d put into his performances as well.
  • ‘Sorry’ wouldn’t even begin to cover it.
  • All the colour had drained from his face. His lips were pressed in a thin line, and you could tell he was trying to hold back his disappointment and anger, even from behind.
  • “Just go. I’ll clean it up,” he muttered, managing to control the tone of his voice.
  • You began to protest, “No, I broke it, so I should-“
  • He spun around angrily, “I SAID-“
  • … but as he did so, his shoulder knocked into your head, the force of his spin making you pass out immediately.
  • Zen dropped to his knees immediately, kneeling beside you. His heart was hammering in his chest—shit, had he just…? No, no, no…
  • He hated the thought of hurting you, and even if you had broken something important to him, he would never want to hit you. Even if it hadn’t been intentional, Zen was already blaming himself and hating himself for doing this to you—to his princess.
  • With shaky hands, he dialled for an ambulance, his voice trembling as he explained the situation.
  • While you were taken to the hospital, the police confronted him, stating how he needed to be investigated. ‘There’s broken glass and a passed out woman… who knows if you physically abuse her? We’ve got to check,’ they explained with a shrug.
  • Although they hadn’t meant any harm, their words stung.  He would never hurt you on purpose.
  • Eventually, he did get through investigations, but now he could only stay beside you as you slept on the hospital bed. The doctors had said it was all okay, lest for a bruise that would remain on the side of your head for a while… but Zen still couldn’t stop himself from letting the guilt crush him.
  • Staring down at your motionless body was painful.
  • Even when you woke up and could finally go home, he couldn’t bring himself to look you in the eye.
  • “Zen… Zenny, it was my fault,” you tried, thinking he was still mad about the trophy.
  • He turned to you with a confused look, then shook his head. “No… The trophy doesn’t matter, jagi,” he said, “Please don’t worry about it. But your head… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
  • Now you understood why he was looking so ashamed and sad.
  • You walked in front of him, cradling his hands in your own as you forced him to look at you.
  • “If you can forgive me for something as important as breaking your trophy, then you can forgive yourself for accidentally hitting me, can’t you?” you reason with him.
  • His lips curl into a pout, and he stares into your eyes. “Can we just continue kissing and forget about everything that happened in the last 12 hours?”
  • You chuckle, “Alright. This time, let’s just start on the bed instead of trying to imitate the movies…”
  • He swung his arm around your waist as you continued walking home, a soft smile on his face. “Thank you,” he whispered quietly to himself.


| Warning: Angst, Mentions of Death

  • She stared at the cup that had just fallen from your hands and crashed onto the floor, shattering into pieces.
  • Your hands flew to your mouth in horror, too shocked for words to come out. You knew you had just dropped Jaehee’s favourite mug—it had been custom-made from her mother.
  • She lowered her eyes, knelt down and began to pick up the pieces without a word, not looking at you.
  • “I-I’m really sorry,” you squeaked out, guilt overwhelming you. You timidly shut the drawers that the cup had fallen from, not knowing what to do.
  • She only sighed in response. “It… was bound to break one day.”
  • A glass shard slipped through her fingers and cut her, and you flew to her side immediately, reaching to inspect her hand out of concern.
  • She suddenly hissed at you, “Don’t touch me, please.”
  • And you knew she was mad. She wasn’t blaming you, but she was evidently upset by your mistake. That only made you feel worse. Had she yelled at you instead, you would’ve felt a lot less guilty.
  • “I want to be alone for now,” she muttered, watching a drop of blood form on her cut and slide to the floor.
  • “I’ll clean it up,” you offered, trying to make it up to her. She didn’t reply, only standing up and walking away.
  • Although she had said she wanted to be alone, you couldn’t help but notice her social media filling with new photos everyday, all showing how she happy she was, hanging out with her friends. It wasn’t that she wanted to be alone, you realized, she just wanted to be away from you.
  • You did know how much the mug had mattered to her—it was Jaehee’s last memento of her mother, after all. Still, couldn’t Jaehee be more mature about this and talk with you instead of avoiding you???
  • It was lonely in the apartment. Jaehee worked all day and spent all her free time with her friends at the bar or partying—you didn’t even think she was the type to do that. You opened the drawer in your room where the shards of what had been Jaehee’s mug were placed. You had tried to find places that could somehow fix the broken mug, but the returned calls so far had said it was impossible.
  • Your phone rang, the noise startling you, but you picked it up without hesitation. “Hello?” you said, a bit breathlessly.
  • “Hi. This is Mori. You’re the customer with that broken mug, right? Well, I can’t fix it, but I can make a perfect replication of it, if you want. All you’d need to do is drop by, show me the material and photos of how it looked before it broke.”
  • That was better than nothing, you figured. “I’ll head over right away!”
  • In your excitement as you drove to your destination, you failed to notice a truck that sped towards you as you made a left turn on the road…
  • You remembered seeing everything turn upside down before all faded to black.
Court of Nightmares

For the @acotarkinkmeme here is Nesta and Cassian’s visit into the the Hewn City!

Prompt: Pretend Dating Trope; Nesta and Cassian go to an event in The Court of Nightmares and they have to pretend to be dating. Cassian loves it a bit too much, Nesta is a bit overwhelmed but decides that two can play at that game. Feel free to make it as sexually tense as possible. Bonus points if Nesta gets to wear a dress like the one Feyre wore under the mountain and makes Cassian forget his own name (this is basically the scene where Feyre + the Inner Circle go to the Court of Nightmares but for Nessian)

Read on AO3 | TAGS: smut, pretend dating, dominant Cassian, Court of Nightmares

The plan was straightforward. Go to the Court of Nightmares and figure out who was the traitor that gave away secret intelligence to Hybern.

Cassian and Nesta were the ones chosen to go on the mission.

Their roles were simple. Cassian was to maintain the persona of the High Lord’s General who eagerly waited to sink his sharpened blade into anyone who so much as gave him a wrong look.

And Nesta was to be a meek female who was Cassian’s latest conquest.

The amount livid words that spewed from Nesta’s mouth was more colorful than the Rainbow of Velaris.

Even more so when she found out that the dress she was to wear was a sheer fabric that revealed more than it covered up.

She strode to the large room where she was to meet Cassian and Rhysand who would winnow them there since Cassian’s wings were still in recovery.

Outside the door she stopped when Cassian’s voice filtered out.

“I’m not going with her Rhysand,” Cassian said loud enough that Nesta could tell he had been arguing with his High Lord for some time.

“We don’t have a choice with Mor and Azriel on their own mission,” Rhysand replied in a controlled tone. “Why are you so afraid to let her go to the Hewn City? She can handle herself and with you there no other male will approach her if they believe she has been claimed by you.”

“She’s not ready,” Cassian gritted out. “Honestly I’m not ready for her to be in that wretched place. How can you expect me to treat her like a whore?”

“The same way I had to with Feyre for the sake of human and fae alike,” Rhysand said a bit sharply. For a moment there was silence before Rhysand continued softly enough that Nesta barely caught.

“I know you care for her and you don’t want to ruin the trust you’ve built so far with her, but we need you to do this Cassian. You and Nesta could be what shifts the war in our favor if this goes well.”

Cassian said nothing. Nesta decided that she didn’t want to hear anymore of this if Cassian decided to keep talking about her as though she were some child who couldn’t handle herself.

She would show him that the Court of Nightmares should tremble before her.

Nesta glided into the room, Making sure that Cassian saw the full effect of her entrance.

And his reaction did not disappoint.

His eyes widened as they took in the sheer silver fabric that hugged every curve of her body. Whorls of black beading covered the more intimate areas of her cleavage and lower regions. Enough to tease, but clearly showed off the emphasis of her shape.

Pale skin was visible through the sheer fabric that plunged between her breasts and the low cut line in the back of the dress.

She stepped forward with her long leg slipping through the long slit that ran up the length of her lower thigh. One wrong step could mean a disaster of modesty if Nesta wasn’t careful to walk in even strides. Yet considering this dress and all that it showed rather than hid perhaps modesty was already tossed to the side.

Cassian’s gaze wandered her entire body. Devouring the unexpected sight of Nesta revealing so much skin with that flimsy piece of fabric he couldn’t even believe was a dress. He could easily tear it apart with a flick of his fingers.

He watched her in rapt interest as she closed the distance between them. Her stormy blue eyes were lined with kohl to give the illusion of smoke and stardust intertwined. That look of fierce determination accompanied by that revealing dress made Cassian forget his own name for a second.

The only thoughts running through his head were of Nesta and how it would feel to run his fingers between that slit in her dress to find her core and see if he could bring his name from those glossy lips of hers.

Ravenous hunger written openly across his face made Nesta shiver in triumph though that was short-lived when Rhysand interrupted the moment asking if they were ready to leave.

“I’m more than ready,” Nesta answered. “So let’s stop wasting time. Unless Cassian wants to keep acting like a drooling dog with his mouth open.”

Cassian blinked and realized the baiting tone she was using. “If you don’t like me drooling then perhaps you would prefer licking sweetheart.”

Because we both know how much you like my tongue on your body.

Keep reading

That moment when your parents start getting mad and condescending toward the fast food workers but you can’t say shit or you’ll get yelled at so you gotta stand there and look as guilty as possible so that the staff know you don’t agree

Aaand here’s the illustration I did for @ceruleancynic’s terrible high school AU Kylux fanfic Boys on the Radio chapter four! You can pretty much rest assured I will illustrate choice scenes for the rest of the fic (I’d illustrate the entire thing if it was even a tiny bit feasible lol).

Have I told you lately how much I absolutely love this part of the fandom? No? I do.

Color System - 01

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Smut…this is going to get really filthy

Rating: Mature

Written by xoxoTheQueenOfHearts

A/N:: This is part one…I’m not even ashamed. I am writing part two

“Green means all is good. Yellow is you want me to slow down or stop. Red means everything stops. Understand?” he asked you in a stern voice.

You blushed as you stood before him at his desk in his office. “Yes Mr. Jeon.” You had gripped the bottom hem of your skirt as you squeezed your thighs together. You had received detention from your teacher because earlier that day he had caught you with no panties on. You had been enticing him all week and he finally snapped. 

He removed himself from his desk to stand erect in front of you. His scent was intoxicating as you tried to look as innocent as you could. You may have been a virgin but that didn’t stop you from teasing. “I need a color right now.” he demanded as he looked down at your state. 

You bit your lip. “G-Green.” you replied with a bit of hesitance. He grinned wit his eyes full of mischief. 

“Don’t move.” he instructed as he walked behind you. He pushed you so that you were bent down onto his desk. “You are such a fucking tease.” he gritted out as he flipped your skirt up to reveal your exposed bottom half. He licked his lips. “God you look good enough to eat.” he said to you but more to himself.

“Mr. Jeon…” you try to say but it comes out in a shy statement. “ can’t…” your face flushed with embarrassment. 

“Resisting my nature will only make it worse Omega.” he stated from behind you. A hand of his spread your cheeks apart to look at your heat. “We both know that you want it, so stop trying to fight it.” He knelled behind you as you felt his hot breath hit your core and with one slow lick upwards had you gripping his wooden desk. 

“Ngh!” you panted out in a shaky breath. His stealthy tongue muscle lapped at your clit and entrance all the way to your most forbidden place. You hung your tongue out of your mouth at the new sensation. No one has ever touched or tasted you in such a way before. 

For several weeks your friends and family explained to you that you were to be someone’s mate and you couldn’t refuse no matter who it happened to be. Because the way of your packs laws, any Alpha male could claim another if they feel that knotting connection. Alpha to Alpha. Alpha to Beta and even Alpha to Omega. However, you weren’t expecting it to be your teacher. Mr. Jeon.

He paid more attention to your forbidden place as he kept you spread open. “M-Mr. Jeon~” you panted out but quickly hushed as you felt him grip your skin a little to tightly. When he was done with that particular spot, he zeroed in on your clit and entrance. He slurped at your juices as your face flushed. You started to almost rock your hips as if to ride his face. “Ah~” you whimpered. 

You can feel his smirk against you and you were having a sensation in the pit of your stomach but he pulled away turning you over to face him. He brings you into a dominate kiss that you can’t refuse. His tongue played with yours causing you to wrap your hands around his forearms. His muscles flexing and unflexing beneath his shirt. He leaned away from you to look at your aroused state. “I need a color right now.” he said as he looked into your eyes. “I can smell you’re in heat and I’d rather knot you in my bedroom with your parents consent.” he said in a controlled tone battling his inner wolf. 

You licked your lips and looked up at him with hooded eyes. “My parents already know about you.” you whispered. “Mr. Jeon…” you whimpered. “Y-Yellow.” you felt ashamed. Embarrassed. Here you were nineteen and still a virgin. You may have been inexperienced but you liked to tease. However, you really did not want to be knotted in his office. “I’m a virgin.” you confessed as you could no longer meet his gaze. He brought you into another kiss before making you look at him. 

“Then we stop here and go home.” he said in a quiet tone. His entire demeanor changing. 

You nodded. “B-But..I want..I want you to knot me.” you confessed quietly. “Can I go home with you?” 

He ran a hand through his hair before buttoning up his shirt. He stared at you for a long time before saying anything. “Give me a color.” he stated.

“Green.” you say a little too excitedly. “At..At your place…Green.” you tell him and the look he gives you goes straight to your heated core. 

Stroke of luck (Part-5)

Word count: 3500-ish

Pairing: Dean X Reader

Warnings: None. Fluff mostly.

Series Summary: Dark highway, middle of the night, a bad boy driving an Impala, and a Damsel in distress. Too cliche? Think again.

A/N: There is a hell lot of Sam in this part, but trust me, y’all need to understand this aspect of the story before anything progresses, which will after this chapter. So, hold on tight. Personally, I like this chapter so much! :D  Beta’d by the fantastic @sdavid09

Stroke of luck Masterlist

Sam however didn’t know what to make of the situation. As he climbed into the driver’s seat, he couldn’t help but mull over what his brother had told him. Dean said that the witnesses’ name was Sam, and she knew enough to know that it was a witch that had killed the boy. But Sam had talked to the officers and seen through the files. The witnesses’ name there was labeled ‘Violet Y/L/N.’ Sam couldn’t get rid of the queasy feeling in his stomach as he drove off towards the morgue, something didn’t quite add up here… Or that it all added up too well.

Originally posted by frozen-delight

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Bon Appétit (NSFW)

I’m currently contending with cramps and my cycle myself right now and this popped into my head, but I really wouldn’t have had the guts to post it without the help of @filthygum, so a big shout out to them because they’re awesome!

Enjoy, fellow clownfuckers~!

Summary: The reader goes to bed one night, expecting to awake to the monthy nuisance of her period. What she gets, however, is an unexpected and undeniably deadly visitor.

Pairing: Pennywise x Fem!Reader

Length: 3,835

Warnings: Period blood, mass amounts of drool, fanged crotch mouth, general clownfuckery, messy oral, slight dub-con, overstimulation

No woman looked forward to her period, ever, and you were no exception to this. The whole ordeal was painful and generally unpleasant in a multitude of different ways for different people. It was never a fun thing, at least in your case.

Thanks to an app your best friend had suggested, however, you had been alerted that this upcoming horror week wasn’t supposed to be as heavy as last month’s. That was a godsend in your book, seeing as you had to help your family move despite the torrent of cramps last cycle. You didn’t want to remember that fact and instead focused on the upcoming days you would get to curl up under a heated blanket and watch movies.

When you had gone to bed earlier with this in mind, popping a couple pamprin pills and lining your panties with an overnight pad in a preemptive strike against what was to come, you were fully expecting to awaken to the sticky warmth of the ever dreadful crimson flood and a day full of netflix and chocolate.

What you got, however, was something most would consider far, far worse.

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What a Tease.

gif from: isophhia  gif source: x

(check out their posts bc they are a peaky blinders blog and have a lot of cool posts)

John Shelby x Reader

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 

Prompt: You are hired by the Shelby’s after impressing them. 

A/N: I will be releasing a part 2 that involves more reader and John stuff than this one. This is more of an introduction than anything with slight hints at John taking a liking to you. Hope you enjoy!

Smoke swirled about the room, topped with laughter and the strong scent of alcohol. The further into the night, the looser the lips in the room became. Louder and louder as more people packed in the later in the day it became. The front doors smacked against the wall as they entered and the room became slightly quieter, still loud with whispers. As the three entered the side room the bar crescendoed back into speaking and laughter. 

You wasted no time and walked behind the bar reaching for the top shelf placing three glasses and whiskey on a tray. You passed the men crowding around the bar stools towards the Shelby’s side room. The tray weighed down on your hand as you knocked with ease on the small door. A creak came from the door that was now opened slightly, inviting you in. Only one of them looked up at you as he took a large puff on the cigar in his hand. The other two continued talking not paying attention to you pouring the whiskey into the glasses. Silently listening to the conversation acting as if you were hearing nothing about their newest business plan, your eyes drift upwards from the drink making unwavering eye contact with the lighter haired Blinder. Usually you avoided doing this with guys, knowing it usually only leads to trouble. Maybe it was because you were yelled at by the boss today or that you had been groped by twice as many guys today but you didn’t break as you continued to pour drinks.

Keep reading

…I hold my pencil further out when sketching or adding soft tones. The control is in my arm so creating lines that are more fluid feels easier. A majority of the time this is the way I hold a pencil, any area between the middle to the end. The closer my grip is to the point the control is in my finger tips instead. So I do details in that hand position(?)/write. Sorry if this doesn’t make much sense. (’ ^ ’).

Leveraging communication difficulties as an abuse tactic.

This is something my dad does a lot. He’ll use my difficulty with words under duress to steamroll over what I’m trying to say and force me to agree with him or he’ll keep pushing the issue until I explode in a meltdown so he can belittle and insult me.

I always try to warn people when I’m out of sorts and may not be able to be nice and smiley for whatever reason. If I’m having a negative emotion, I can’t pretend to be happy and pleasant. I warn in advance that I’m not in good spirits that day and that I don’t mean anything personal if I’m less than pleasant. I try to not say mean things or be insulting, but my tone of voice may sound cranky, and I have zero control of that.

But my dad will steamroll anyway, then get mad at me for having an abrasive reaction when I warned him of what would happen and why I need to be left alone. 

Let’s get real silly here: It’s like somebody ignores a fanfic author’s warnings about a fanfic containing clouds. The warning about clouds is in the summary, the tags and the very top of the fic itself. The cloud-hating reader reads the story despite having three warnings that the fic contains clouds. Then they flame the author to say what a hideous person they are to write about clouds.

Yeah. How’s that fair?

Here’s what usually happens with my dad. I’m using a recent real-life example.

Me: Dad, I’m having a really bad day. I might end up yelling at you because I can’t control my tone of voice or my emotions. I would prefer to avoid talking to anyone unless it’s extremely important.

Dad: Fine.


Dad: *Dings the ‘I need help’ desk bell on his TV tray.*

Me: *was hyperfocused, as I thought dad saying “fine” meant he was going to finally leave me alone for once*

Me: *hears bell ding again* Shit! *Gets up and runs in, wild-eyed and frantic* What?! What do you want?! *angry sounding voice*

Dad: What the hell? *Stares at me* What’s your problem?

Me: I told you. What do you want?

Dad: Don’t talk to me in that tone.

Me: Tell. Me. What. You. Want.

Dad: Why are you so mad at me?

Me: I’m not mad at YOU. I’m mad at ME. Now what do you want?

Dad: I just wanted to tell you that Bill Paxton died. Geez. You’re such a fucking baby.

Me: Dad, I warned you earlier that I have no control of my tone or my reactions right now.

Dad: You can control yourself, you just don’t want to.

Me: *Shrieking* NO, I CAN’T! 

Dad: What’s wrong with you? 

Me: *starts slapping my hands against my hips* I told you, I’m mad! I can’t talk right now! I can’t find words! You never listen to me!

Dad: Bullshit! *Yells* You can talk fine, now tell me what the fuck is wrong! You owe me an explanation.

Me: I don’t own you shit! I said I can’t talk! I can’t talk! I’m losing my words! *frantic hip slapping* I can’t talk!

Dad: You’re talking now. Stop being a baby and talk to me like a fucking adult. Why are you so mad at me?

Me: *No longer able to speak coherently, so I flee from his room and slam my door, taking advantage of his inability to get up and chase after me*

Me: *Barricades the door with two heavy bags, a chair and my body, and has a four hour self-injurious meltdown*

…and after all that, my dad still thinks I’m the one who was wrong. I wasn’t wrong. He was.

Here’s why:

  • I was highly aware of the state I was in.
  • I set a clear interaction boundary to protect myself and others from my emotional state. 
  • I gave a clear warning of what would happen if that interaction boundary was crossed for any reason outside of a dire emergency.
  • My dad ignored that boundary and got mad at me for having the exact reaction I said I would have if that boundary was ignored.

This is an emotional abuse tactic. It may get used often on people with communication difficulties. It’s not okay.