these get better every day

anonymous asked:

i love your blog!! what drew you to bella as a muse?

          SDUBSDIfGN I LOVE YOU !   but honestly, i don’t know. the werewolves always got me, it’s not that i wasn’t intrigued by the vamps, i just .   .   .  i love werewolves, y’all, i’m a Secret Furry. 

& in all honesty ? I HATED BELLA. every ounce of my 12-year-old body hated her guts. i hate a lot of heroines in most famous books today. it’s just that their actions are so stupid to me sometimes i want to cry & throw the book across the room. now i realize it’s bc i had avpd even all the way back then & i just couldn’t relate to any of these heroines bc no one related TO ME. they were all neurotypical for the most part & they got guys. i couldn’t understand both of those things. also bella was really annoying. like i hated her so much sdhfg.

recently i grew indifferent, but once i picked new moon again i was like bithc……………………. it’s just meyer’s writing. like i HATE her writing. but bella ? she’s just a gal who found a guy who actually liked her. she even sounded like she had anxiety too. & my brain just got to work you know, here she was, this girl who came to forks bc she didn’t fit in w/her mom & she wants to give her more freedom. frankly, i realized DO relate to her. in her very basic essence, bella would be my best friend. but that’s it, i erase all else, & build her up from the foundation up. like i kno some ppl might get offended or whatever, but i’m TIRED. bella is just a strong girl, & she tries so hard. so so HARD. i understand why people might hate her, i get it. but pls, let me introduce you to a NEW bella. i don’t know if she’s better bc that’s almost going beyond disliking a series, it’s like shading the author ( like i haven’t done that b4, but u know ), but GOD, bella is so much more than this frail, sickly girl that meyer makes her out to be.

4

100 Days of AmazingPhil → 1/100

I’M SORRY!

Howdy, my name is Rawhide Kobayashi. I’m a 27 year old Japanese Japamerican (western culture fan for you foreigners). I brand and wrangle cattle on my ranch, and spend my days perfecting the craft and enjoying superior American passtimes. (Barbeque, Rodeo, Fireworks) I train with my branding iron every day, this superior weapon can permanently leave my ranch embled on a cattle’s hide because it is white-hot, and is vastly superior to any other method of livestock marking. I earned my branding license two years ago, and I have been getting better every day. I speak English fluently, both Texas and Oklahoma dialect, and I write fluently as well. I know everything about American history and their cowboy code, which I follow 100% When I get my American visa, I am moving to Dallas to work in an oil field to learn more about their magnificent culture. I hope I can become a cattle wrangler for the Double Cross Ranch or an oil rig operator for Exxon-Mobil! I own several cowboy hats, which I wear around town. I want to get used to wearing them before I move to America, so I can fit in easier. I rebel against my elders and seniors and speak English as often as I can, but rarely does anyone manage to respond. Wish me luck in America!

Here, this is my heart. I’ve spent quite a lot of time putting it back together. I’m sorry about the cracks. Some people weren’t that gentle with it. Sometimes I wasn’t gentle either, but I’m getting better at it every day. I don’t really like having these protective walls up, but my past wasn’t great. I’ve knocked them down just to build them back up stronger than before every time. That’s become exhausting, but you’ll be different from the rest, won’t you? You won’t take this love for granted, you’ll cherish it, right? Right?
—  Maxwell Diawuoh // Trust

💮~professionally scanned this hand drawing of mine~💮

(the idea for this hand post is by a tattooer called “suflanda” on instagram and i instantly fell in love with it!!)

i love hands, they’re one of those things you spend so much time on trying to get them right but even after  years you still struggle.🌸 

the cool thing about drawing is that you can get better at it every day !  Everything you see influences your imagination and gives a new unique style to your art.!!!!

You will basicly develop you drawings skills your entire lifetime!🌸 

Growing up asexual

You are twelve and your best friend kisses you the day before moving away. He’s nervous and shy, and the kiss is soft, but there are no sparks and no butterflies in your stomach. You are left feeling weird and uncomfortable, like there’s something wrong with you.

You are thirteen and your classmates talk about their crushes and how much they want to kiss them. You listen from a corner but don’t join the conversation. You don’t have a crush on anyone, you wouldn’t want any of their mouthes close to yours, so you can’t add anything to it. One of them still turns around and asks you about your crush. No one believes you when you say no one. The next day there is a rumor that you love one of your friends.

You are fourteen and come back home to find your living room busy with relatives. You join them and for a while everything seems fine, everyone is talking about embarrasing moments, and telling funny stories, and saying lame jokes. But then one of your aunts smiles conspirationally and winks at the other adults, and starts questioning you.

“You must have a boyfriend, someone as pretty as you!” She beams, and everyone gathered agrees. “So tell us, who is your boyfriend? Who do you like?”

You try to laugh it off and get out, and feel uncomfortable about it all, but they keep asking and keep asking and so you say the first name that comes into your mind (because your classmates didn’t believe you and you almost lost a friend because of it). That satisfies them for now and they all commend you for your good taste. No one notices you slipping out of the room until much later, and they all think it’s because you’re a teen now.

(Not one of them thinks that maybe they made you uncomfortable. No one thinks that maybe you would rather not talk about things like this.)

You are fifteen and have resigned yourself to the feelings of isolation. Your friends talk about masturbating, about sex, about the hot people in the class. Your classmates still ask you who you are crushing on. Sometimes you say a random name, and sometimes you claim to be too busy with your homework to worry about love (which seems to be a good enough excuse), but in the privacy of your mind you still wonder.

You look at women, trying to feel any sort of attraction towards them. You even try kissing a friend, but you feel absolutely nothing. You conclude that you can’t be neither homosexual nor bisexual. The logical leap to this is that you must be hetero, since those are the only options.

You try to make yourself fall in love with a boy, then. You stare at the so-called cute boy of your class for hours, waiting for the magical spark to appear. You try to make yourself love a boy based on his clothing. You try to understand what the hell is it that people are talking about.

You waste days, weeks, months on this task. You never succeed.

You are sixteen and you know you are broken. People still ask you about love and sex and crushes, and you still lie for fear of being different, of being alienated, of feeling even more isolated than you already do. You know you will have to marry one day, because marriage is mandatory no matter what you feel. So you resign yourself to pretending, to keep up the act. You try and keep trying not to let it bother you, but the idea of sex, of marriage, of love, all of it makes your stomach churn. You try to pretend you aren’t broken, but you know you are.

You are seventeen when you first see the word asexual, somewhere on the internet. You end up looking that word up, and find a website dedicated to it. There are hundreds upon hundreds of comments in the forums, but you first read the FAQs.

‘Asexuality is not feeling sexual attraction’, you read out loud, barely a whisper, as something inside of you clicks. It makes sense. It makes sense but you ignore it, and convince yourself that you do feel it (because there was that boy you thought looked pretty and that girl you considered cute), and you think the only reason why you don’t really fall in love and want sex is because you are broken. You know this to be true.

You close all of the tabs related to that word. For the next weeks you pretend to never have found it, but it’s always at the back of your mind.

(It’s a chance of being whole, your mind whispers, and you deny it because you are normal. You’ve been trying to be normal for so many years and you must be, have to be, will be…)

Asexuality fits with your life. You are broken, but maybe you aren’t alone.

You are eighteen, and you are more informed now. You have accepted that you are asexual (ace, as the community calls it), and you are somehow much happier now. You know you aren’t broken, now. You know this is an option that was never presented to you before.

You finally come out to your family, feeling safe and secure and confident in your knowledge. Your family laughs. They say that asexuality doesn’t exist, that it’s impossible not to feel sexual attraction. They tell you that you are too young, that you’ll find the right person, not to worry, as if your biggest worry was to not fall in love, instead of not succeding in life. They act like idiots and apologize when it’s too late, and even as you accept their apologies your mind keeps whispering (but what if they are right, what if it’s true, what if you are too young, what if you are faking it, what if, what if)

Your family refers to asexuality as 'that thing’, and they never ask you questions about it. It becomes an unspoken thing. Something that must never be talked about.

Sometimes you feel like crying, but you don’t really know why.

You are nineteen when you come out to your friends. You have put a wall around the fiasco with your family, and you explain everything to them. Your friends are open-minded about it and agree that it fits with your behaviour. They ask you questions and joke about it, but always make sure not to be offensive. You smile all thorought the afternoon, and even once you get home.

A few weeks later one of your friends tells you they are terrified of the idea of being like you, or becoming like you. They say, with concern and real worry in their eyes, that they wouldn’t be able to live a life like yours, so uninteresting, so lonely. You tell them not to worry and don’t even cry about it. But there is a heavy feeling in your chest and a knot in your throat.

You are twenty and the world exhaustes you sometimes. You get tired of watching sex and romance be such an important part of the plots of your favourite movies and TV shows. You are tired of being told in very subtle ways that your orientation isn’t valid. You are tired of the looming threat of corrective rape, of people who hate on you for your sexuality, of stupid jokes and stupid tropes. You are tired of them all.

But you are also twenty and understand that you aren’t broken. You know you aren’t alone. So you wear your ace ring with pride and wear the colors of the flag during the awareness week, and are ready to talk about it with anyone who listens. You are tired of being silenced, so you will yell until you get hoarse if that’s what it takes for the world to listen.

You are twenty, and you accept yourself, and even if things get rough, they can also get better.

Here, this is my heart. I’ve spent quite a lot of time putting it back together. I’m sorry about the cracks. Some people weren’t that gentle with it. Sometimes I wasn’t gentle either, but I’m getting better at it every day. I don’t really like having these protective walls up, but my past wasn’t great. I’ve knocked them down just to build them back up stronger than before every time. That’s become exhausting, but you’ll be different from the rest, won’t you? You won’t take this love for granted, you’ll cherish it, right? Right?
—  NaPoWriMo Day 22 - Trust // Maxwell Diawuoh

Gomenasai, my name is Mathias-Sama

I’m a 47 year old Ishgardian Ronin (knight-errant for you gaijins). I draw Doman artwork on traditional scrolls, and spend my days perfecting my art and playing superior Doman games. (Shogi, Go, Chinese Checkers)

I train with my Katana every day, this superior weapon can cut clean through steel because it is folded over a thousand times, and is vastly superior to any other weapon on Hydalyn. I will earn my samurai soul on the 21st sun of the 3rd Umbral Moon in the 1st year of the 7th Astral Era, and I’m going to get better every day!

I speak Doman fluently, both Othard and the Au Ra dialect, and I write fluently as well. I know everything about Doman history and their bushido code, which I follow 100%

When I get my Doman visa, I am moving to Kugane to attend a prestigious dojo to learn more about their magnificent culture. I hope I can become the shogun of shoguns like my idol Legatus Xenos Yae Galvus!

I own several kimonos, which I wear around Ul'Dah. I want to get used to wearing them before I move to Doma, so I can fit in easier. I bow to my elders and seniors and speak Doman as often as I can, but rarely does anyone manage to respond.

Wish me luck in Doma!

I know with all that’s going on, it’s a really tough time to be a trans kid, so to kids who are trans (including nonbinary) or questioning their gender, and to kids who fall outside of “traditional” gender norms: you are loved, you are supported, and you are not alone. 

As a #RealLiveTransAdult, I will fight for you every day. It will get better because we will make it better. 

2

liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiike. let’s talk about their reactions here? because i 100% believe in my filthy trash bin of a heart that this episode was the point of no return for parker and eliot both, the point at which they both realised holy shit i am in way over my head. 

look at those reactions. like, it’s not simple relief, it’s relief and *total fucking whelm*. and neither eliot nor parker has–allowed themselves, maybe, the relative luxury of just thinking about what someone means to them. because it’s always been a liability. for eliot, caring too much about people would just be something that someone could use against him; for parker, it’s what archie’s cautioned her against a million times: we don’t get involved. 

and worse for both of them, really, is that they’re not–not too caught up in a job, not too wrapped up in their own reputations or…or things that could be forgivable, really. things that they could realise and chide themselves for and then pull back from, do better. no, instead they’re both of them way overinvested in another person, in a person who could be hurt, who could be taken from them because they weren’t good enough or fast enough or–or just because sometimes you lose. 

parker and eliot have always been aware of when they should cut their losses and get out. but this–this isn’t an acceptable loss. maybe neither of them can say the word love just yet, even to themselves, but this is where they realise it.

hardison doesn’t die, but he comes back to life anyhow, and when he does, the whole world changes.

Tabata: we aren’t opposed to adding new areas, but it would take a year.

Me: okay.

Tabata: I’d like to do Insomnia, but that would also take a year.

Me: okay…

Tabata: If we added more areas it would take a y-

Me: *grabs Tabata;s face* listen you made me care about this damn game I don’t care how long it takes just give me everything that was supposed to be there. other people have been waiting for this game for 10 years I’m sure they can handle it. 

5

Favorite wardrobe moments from Depressing News -

  1.  Margaret’s ducky underpants
  2.  BJ’s Chucks + Hawk’s suspiciously 80′s tennies
  3. - 5. Klinger’s many hats + Potter’s painting outfit
Love notes scrawled in the margins of books
Disturbed by the emptiness following the end of a chapter
Aluminum chew canisters traded for sobriety tokens
Sunshine radiates from his chest
Filling gaping holes between her ribs previously deemed fit only for contempt
—  The color is back in his eyes and that’s how I know things are going to be okay


Happy Valentine’s Day to all of you! This is a slightly edited version of the #DCVDay twitterfic, coming in at 1.2k.  

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Dean finds out the hard way that Valentine’s Day is the worst day to decide to show a guy you love him. He gets up early, makes eggs and bacon for everyone. He sets the table, puts out cloth napkins, and lays a flower next to Cas’s plate. Cas sniffs it when he first sits down, then sips his coffee.

He offers no reaction, like Dean gives him flowers on the regular. But he takes it with him once he’s done eating, which is something.

Sam offers to do the dishes since Dean cooked, so Dean leaves him to it and heads to the garage to think.  

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