this is what we call clutter

Silly stuff day has come back around I’m so excited! 8D (lol also called April Fools Day)

Endy: …. (mischief senses tingling) …………………. Okay yes?
Serenity: AND THEN!!! VeeandKunzitewillhavetocometoosoletspretendtobesebastianfromTheLittleMermaidandsingtothemit’sgonnabegreat!!!!!!
Endy: But “Don’t be shy go on and kiss the girl” doesn’t really work here.
S: “We could do touch the boy instead. XD”

But then when I was trying to draw this stupid thing, Vee interpreted it as splash the boy and the drawing changed.

XDDDD Silly stuff day.

I’ll delete this from the archive after a while so it won’t clutter stuff up I hope it makes anyone smile. XDDD Yay silly stuff day!

(I guess Serenity is already a princess, why be Ariel when she could be a singing crab instead.)

Windenburg Campus... Fan Made Stuff Pack ?

for the past few weeks i’ve been working on the windenburg campus. but the more i build, the more i was thinking : “it’s a missed opportunity to do not make it bigger”.

to be honest, i’ll be thrilled if some cc creators join this project and we release this as a whole. i’m a cc-free player but i’m sure a lot of you guys would love to have some university related items in your game. that’s why i’m making this call to cc creators for an unusual collab.

i can totally see some simlish posters, books clutter, ts3 or ts2 conversions, jackets and shirts with the university logos… and so many other things ! i’ve plenty of ideas for this possible pack but i’m not talented enough to do this by myself. plus, the greatest part about a community is to be all together, right ?

i’m pretty sure a lot of players want a university pack… well, we could do it together and show ea what we’re really capable of.

if interested, feel free to DM me at anytime. ;)

love you guys always,


p-s : if this project comes to life, i’ll be the builder of the team and the coordinator :)

Winchester Movers

Title: Winchester Movers

Paring: Dean x Reader x Sam (No wincest)

Word Count: 2200

Smut Appreciation Day 2017

@zeppo-in-a-trenchcoat: One woman hires 2 movers but it’s not what it seems to be.

“I am so done with this shit!” you threw the empty box at the wall as you started to pace around your apartment. You’d been packing for two days straight and this was just getting ridiculous. Why had you let your brother talk you into doing it yourself, and of course on the weekend he was out of town.

Grabbing the local phone book, you saw the first thing that said movers and had five stars next to it and called.

Falling back into your couch that had a million piles of things all over the place you let yourself rest, the movers would be there tomorrow.

Keep reading

wolf 359 star wars au

[Part 1]

Part 2- O Captain my Captain

  • the planet they crashed on was logged as completely deserted
  • of course it was
  • no trading posts, no spare parts, and wouldnt you know it, the distress beacon got knocked out in the crash
  • the crew scout around the crash site a bit and stumble on what looks like a camp not too far away. its small, maybe is only home to one person
  • eiffel, being eiffel, starts poking around
  • eiffel, being eiffel, almost gets decapitated by someone wielding a laser sword
  • “who are you, and what the hell are you doing on my planet”
  • eiffel starts spluttering a disjointed explanation of “crash- comms– camp? jedi?? what the fuck!”
  • minkowski kindly intervenes with “captain lovelace?”
  • the captain lowers her sword
  • captain isabel lovelace and her crew had been missing in action for three years
  • and here she was, in a cave, with a laser sword
  • eiffel is utterly starstruck
  • minkowski is somewhat unimpressed
  • hera is mostly just confused
  • lovelace somehow managed to get the gist of eiffel’s explanation, matched it to the loud crash she heard earlier, and asked, “what do you need to fix up your ship?”
  • by now she had noticed the rebel uniform from minkowski, the rebel attitude from eiffel, and the mishmash of parts that had come together to make hera
  • “the distress beacon should be our priority” minkowski decided
  • “i know a place. follow me”
  • eiffel, still a little incomprehensible, started after her, “can you tell us the epic tale of your jedi adventure?”
  • “might as well. it’s a long walk
  • "my crew and i were on a mission to escort an asset from one location to another - it was minimal information, but the name the guy used was Elias Selberg. supposedly he was a spy for us inside the empire. i’d guess doing some kind of scientific engineering, but i don’t know for sure. only, he must have got a better offer because he sold us out
  • "selberg was a piece of shit, but he was no army general. his attack was surgical. planned. and impossible to prove. first, there was a "tragic accident” with one of my crewmen. it’s likely not a coincidence that the biggest and strongest died first. next, he took out our communications, and the comms officer along with it. then it was engineering, then our droid, and all the while he was acting terrified. like he didnt know it was coming. like he hadnt planned the whole thing.
  • “when it was just me and him left, i locked the asshole in the sleeping quarters and took off in an escape pod. i’d had to work on it in secret, fixing up the damage he had done when he took out engineering, but i did it. i was out
  • "but then i was alone. i had no comms, no supplies, and nowhere to go. i crashed here, same as you. something - the force, i guess - drew me into one of the caves, and i found all this jedi shit. i’ve been training with it, but its hard to know exactly what im supposed to do. jedi were supposed to have masters, but i only have the force to guide me”
  • the stars in eiffel’s eyes are truly impressive by this point
  • “epic” he whispers
  • “the force?” minkowski scoffs “all that stuff is made up. it’s a fairytale. none of it actually works”
  • lovelace looks at her like she knows a deep dark secret of hers
  • “what?”
  • “oh, nothing. we’re almost there”
  • they emerge into a cavern that houses the most impressive collection of trash they have ever seen
  • bear in mind that one of these people is doug eiffel, whose office is stacked floor-to-ceiling with all kinds of clutter
  • “chances are we can fix up your ship with with some of this junk”
  • eiffel, as the magnitude of this search hits him: “oh boy”
  • he turns to hera “can you like… do a scan for what we need to speed this up?”
  • hera does a huffy beep and scoots off to begin scanning the piles of trash
  • “you found a lightsaber in this mess?” doug asks
  • “it called to me. i didnt actually have to search for it” she answers
  • minkowski rolls her eyes
  • this is the biggest load of bullshit she’s heard since phalser tried to excuse his lateness with “traffic” on a space station

Summary(requested): You’re friends with benefits and get pregnant, leave, and see Michael two years later.

Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of sex.

Ch: Michaelxreader

Michael never seemed as if he wanted to make what you had a public thing, he’d always stay a distance from you in public, and if he did talk it was small chatter nothing more, but when you were alone it was a different story. He’d often bring you gifts, call you cute nicknames, kiss you, and hold you, He was like two different men.

“Do you think ya ever have children?” You ask, as you watch him dress, he quickly grabs his shoes from the floor that was cluttered with clothes, he took a seat next to you, smiling. “You think you’re pregnant right after we fucked?”

“No.” You swallow the lump in your throat, putting on a smile. “Don’t be silly, Mikey, I just carious.”

“I mean maybe, but not at the moment, I have no time to take care of me self.” You fake smile and nod, as slipped on his dress shoes. “I agree with you.” 

He presses a kiss against your nose, and then your forehead, “I have to go love, fucking Tommy will kill me if I’m late again.”

“Bye.” You kiss his lips softly. “I’ll pick you up tonight, we’ll go for dinner, have a good day.” With one more kiss to the top of hair, he was gone, door slammed behind him. Little did he know you were pregnant, and leaving for London tonight.

You spend the rest of the day debating on if you should, but none would be fair to Michael, who has just finally found his family, he said it himself he was not ready to be a father, but you were not ready to leave him. you found your feelings growing stronger and stronger for the young Peaky Blinder.

Currently you stood shaking at the train station, the ticket wrinkling due to the grip of regret. You had to do this though, for Michael and for your baby. The moment the train whistle ripped the air, tears started flowing It was time to leave, leave him behind.

                                                   2 years later

You looked down at the beautiful little boy sleeping on your chest, He was the spitting image of his father, gorgeous brown locks, and beautiful red lips. With a quick jerk, the train stopped.

After two years you finally worked up the nerve to come back, come back to see your mother and let her see her grandchild for the first time ever. “Mummy?” Your son groaned, rubbing his eyes, looking up at you.

“Time to go meet your granny, baby.” He smiled from cheek to cheek, so excited to finally meet her, especially since you talked about how an amazing person she is, and the wonderful pastries she makes.

The moment Wallace met your mother it was instant love, and couldn’t tear him from his granny, she offered many time for you two to stay with her, to live her, she could get you a job at the Garrison now that her new husband Harry was the owner. 

“Honey Wallace will love it here.” She sways, “You grew up here, you belong here with your family.” She was right, you missed your family, In London it was just you and Wallace, no friends or family. When you agree, she assisted on celebrating, sending you and Wallace out to get goodies for her to make. 

The walk through the town was just what you needed, the memories came flooding back, the dreams and hopes that were thought of right in this very town. Finally you reached the market, holding Wallace’s hand to have him pull away, “Mummy you don’t need to hold my hand!” 

“I forgot my baby’s all grown.” You smile, poking his cheek. You examined the apples, looking for your mum’s favorite, the green ones, after looking for the non-bruised, and sweetest, you turn to show Wallace, but he wasn’t there.

“Wallace?” You ask, eyes searching everywhere. “Wallace?” You cry, now speed walking through the market, he was no where to be found. Tears began to fall due to the fear of your son missing, unsafe. 

“Excuse me Miss?” A man ask, you turn around only noticing your son in his arms. You quickly take him, hugging him, “Oh you scared me so much boy, You know to stay next to me!”

“(Y/N)?” The moment your eyes met with Michael’s, you began to panic inside. His eyes studied you, then the boy who similarly represented him. “W-Where have you been?” He tried to hide the breaking of his heart.

You left him heart broken two years ago, as he still found himself the same, not interested in anyone else really, a few one night stands but since you left, he’s not cared for anyone, but you.

“Michael.” You say softly, “Thank you for finding him.” Placing Wallace on the ground, cupping his hand. 

Michael quickly cut in, not allowing you to leave this conversation. “Can you take you two out for dinner? I have so many questions.”

“It’s not the best time -” Wallace cut you off, “I’m hungry mum!” You sigh looking up at Michael, as he stood, his thoughts being confirmed, he was your son.

Michael took you both to a nice place, that was kid friendly. After eating your meal, with lots of small talk, and awkward silence  you where hoping you could leave. “Mummy, can I go play with the other kids?”

You sigh, nodding, and turning back to face Michael. “How old is he?” 

“Two years of age.” You mumble, Michael couldn’t help but connect the dots. “Is that why you asked how I felt about children?” His voiced dripped anger. He quickly took a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it up, something new about him; smoking.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You argue standing your ground., “I met a man in London.” Michael laughed to himself, taking a drag, blowing the smoke around the room. “You don’t think I can’t notice my own son? He looks just like me fucking twin.”

“I don’t know who you think you are.” As you noticed Wallace listening to you both, “You definitely didn’t raise him, he may be your son, but you did not raise him!“ You paused, “And who even said you could curse or smoke in front of my son!”

“Clear the fucking room!” Michael roared as people quickly shuffled out of the room, leaving empty tables all over the room, and Wallace now left alone. 

“I am leaving.” You stood to only get stopped by Michael, his hand catching yours. “I’m sorry, I just want to talk.” He puts the cig out smoke now slowly disappearing, “I will not curse I promise.”

You sit back down, looking at Wallace playing with blocks. “Is this why you left?” You nod, “You said you weren’t ready. I wasn’t going to stick the responsibility on you.”

“He is my son.” Michael argues, “It isn’t a responsibility, it’s my job as a man.” You nod, tears growing in yours eyes. “You wouldn’t even show me to the public I thought the same for our son.”

“I loved you! I would’ve told anyone if they asked but they never did. They mind their business.” Tears now fell down your cheeks, “I didn’t know, I thought you didn’t want anything more.”

Michael groaned in anger, “Enough arguing, I have just met my son and would like to spend time with him.” He took off his hat, placing it on the table, his hands running through his hair. “We will talk about this later, but I am glad to see that beautiful face again.

You smile at him softly, wiping the tears from your face. “Wallace come here.” Wallace was quick to jump on your lap. Wallace often wondered why he didn’t have a father like everyone else, sometimes make one up to be like the other kids. He smiled cheek to cheek the moment you told him the respectful, whole man in front of him was his own.

You couldn’t help but notice the tears in Michael’s eyes as Wallace ran to his side of his table, jumping on his lap and hugging him. Between you and Wallace he didn’t know what to cry over.

Request are open!

1.Of the

“Of the” is almost always unnecessary and can be simplified.


The owner of the restaurant.

The restaurant owner.

The wheels of the skateboard.

The skateboard’s wheels.

One of the nails came loose.

A nail came loose.

2. That

This one seems innocent enough, but again it can almost always be cut without any damage. If you have “that” in a sentence remove it, and if what’s left still makes sense then it’s unnecessary.

He said that he was coming.

He said he was coming.

Our teacher promised that there wouldn’t be any homework.

Our teacher promised there wouldn’t be any homework.

3. Adverbs

Most adverbs are either redundant or superfluous. For example:

“I have to go,” she whispered quietly.

Whispering implies being quiet, so “quietly” is redundant and can be cut.

He moved quickly across the lawn.

If we choose a strong verb the adverb becomes unnecessary and the writing becomes tighter and punchier:

He dashed across the lawn.

Keep reading



Name/ What should we call you?
Jess / Jessica / Taro / Bitch / Hoe / (whatever is fine, really)

Feeeemale, she/her


Where are you from?
USA, east coastttt

Post a selfie!
hard pass

Do you watch anime?
You can probably already tell from my gif reactions but yEEEEEEes turn up


What tools and software do you use?
I draw on a Surface Pro 4 in Photoshop!

What brushes do you use?
Answered here

Can I use your art as my icon?
Yes, of course! and you don’t have to ask me first ^^ No credit is needed because I know it clutters up your bio and makes it look gross! Also, I feel like most people just kinda ignore and look over bio credits so it’s really not necessary.

Can I repost your work?
On tumblr, reblogs only pls. On other platforms, just ask me first and I’ll always say yes as long as you’re not taking credit for it. I’m very chill and kinda indifferent about art sharing (bc you’re posting on the internet and you can’t control everyone so what can you do))  but please just ask first!

Why didn’t you draw the au I suggested!!!!!
I ask my followers for au suggestions. That means the ideas you send in get put into a random generator that randomly picks 5-8 au ideas, which I will place in a poll for everyone to vote. Winner of that poll is the au I will draw next.

My au didn’t win and I am sad.
It’s ok! You are welcome to suggest the same au every time I ask for ideas and maybe it’ll win next time! (The mafia au has been suggested 3 times in a row and it’s finally winning hehe)

Will you finish the Jumin fic?
I said I would but I am a liar and will not be continuing it because I have 0 motivation and I enjoy drawing 10000000x more


Favorite MM character(s)?
Juju & V, but Zen was my first love so he has a special place in my heart

Why do you hate Zen?
I don’t

Why do you hate Zen’s ponytail?
I don’t


* Trigger warning & sorry for length: my thoughts on buffering *

I’ve read the book once and listened to it twice. To say I enjoyed this book would be an understatement. I was supporting this book to the fullest before it even came out, a lot of you know I got the buffering tattoo inspired by this book the day before the release, it’s honestly the one of the most important tattoo I have on my body, lets get back to the book though, It was so well spoken, raw and eye opening. I can honestly say this Is one of the most raw and breathtaking books to ever exist, Hannah did a remarkable job! She’s not only beautiful on the outside but she’s one of the strongest people I’ve ever come across. Her courage, bravery and honesty in this book was remarkable. She’s worked so hard to get where she is today, there’s been hard times and good times but she’s made it through, I’m so proud of her for everything she’s accomplished. She’s defiantly taught me to practice reckless optimism. A few days ago i posted on tumblr about how reading & hearing the book was a completely different experience & hannah rebloged it. She said recording the audio was the hardest part & I don’t blame her. I couldn’t imagine having to relive those moments & read my life story for people to hear but she did such a good job! I’m so proud of her! Hearing her read it was heartbreaking though because at times you could feel her emotions, I felt like I could feel the memories & pain in her words. For me personally the hardest parts of her reading it were during things I could relate to. I related to a lot In the book but there’s four parts that hit me the most, her sisters death, her mom’s house, her struggle accepting her sexuality and self harm.

My family has had a history of suicide, I didn’t know that until I was in middle school dealing with suicidal thoughts myself. After a few suicide attempts I got the help I needed, I still deal with depression today but I haven’t had a suicide attempt since 2014. Hannah you’re part of that reason so thank you. But I’m getting off track, the reason that part of her life hit me the hardest is because my cousin shot himself in the head in 2012. We found him by the creek and later found a suicide note left at his work place. When hannah talked about her sister it was triggering, I cried and everything was okay but the similarities where crazy to me. The shooting, the way hannah was told about it, just so much about that part of her life brought back vivid memories of find out and not understanding why he’d do this, I always thought If I was there maybe I could have helped him, survivors guilt tore me apart. Before I read this book I didn’t know anyone who dealt with a loved one killing themselves other than my family, I knew people related obviously because suicide happened’s more than it should but I just didn’t talk to anyone that I knew who had. So hearing hannah talk about it defiantly made me feel less alone and that my feelings were valid.

In chapter 19 hannah goes to her moms house with Kati to take photos of the house for evidence, what she said reminded me of my moms house. I remember being 3 years old and told my dog had cancer and was put down, I remember being able to get to the bedroom without struggling through a mess, it was a clear path. I don’t know when things started to change but less people came around the house and you could hardly get around the house without stepping on things by the time I was 7. For whatever reason my mom couldn’t let go of things, she became a hoarder but never wanted to admit it. Hannah’s experiences with her mom’s house are on a whole different scale than mine ever was, the house never had cockroaches, maggots or mice but it was pilled with stuff, the bathroom had water damage and a bit of mold, something would fall apart at lest once a week whither it was the door or sink-something always went, most of the food had mold, dishes were everywhere, you couldn’t escape dust it was on everything, the list goes on. The worst of it was the bathroom and kitchen, no matter how much you would clean you wouldn’t look like you even made a dint in the room. I remember coming home in the winter from school and all I could smell was dog pee and poop, during the day while everyone was away the dog was in the house because of the winter cold. My sister and I would clean the floor of the kitchen as much as we could but it was almost impossible to get rid of because of how many things were in the way. That smell will never leave my mind, it was the worst smell I’ve ever smelt. The one time my sister got rid of a random bag that was near it and when my mom found out let’s just say that was the last time we ever made that choice.I remember my sister and I building this dog house and using insulation we found to try and keep it warm for our dog the one year, it took forever to build but we were proud. Once mom left for work we’d let her out and go to school. It helped a lot, no more coming home to the smell of feces on the floor. But that only lasted one winter, by summer my mom got angry about not having “enough space” in the yard for guests to visit or something like that so she got rid of it. No one ever came over though, our yard was small we couldn’t do much anyway but that dog house came in handy, I didn’t understand what she was thinking getting rid of it. I didn’t understand why our house was always such a mess until I was in middle school and my friend mentioned to me that she thought my mom was a hoarder. At the time I honestly had no idea what that word meant but when I found out I felt as though we found an answer to why our house was always cluttered. I was embarrassed, I wouldn’t bring friends home. I remember one time a family friend dropped me off and asked if she could use the washroom and I froze- I was scared and embarrassed but my mouth said “yes” to be polite. She called my mom a hoarder too, that was the second person ever to say that.. Being the type of kid who had anxiety about not being clean, this was the worst environment for me but it was home. No matter how inhabitable it was, it was still home. When my sister and I moved out things got worse in her home but everything changed for us, the main one for me was moving out gave me less anxiety attacks because my house is clean. If I’m really busy or just don’t feel like doing laundry i can leave it for a week and not worry about having nothing to wear or about having an anxiety attack Because i know I’ll get it done. My mom has always been a really hard worker, she worked 4 jobs and still does today. I love my mom and over the years we’ve got her to go to a psychologist and get the help she needs, we found out that the mental illness that she has brought out and feeds her hoarder tendencies. Its a work in progress but things are looking up.

For me being gay came off as natural, my first kiss was with a girl in 6th grade, maybe it was the relationship I had with my uncle who was also gay or maybe it was just the fact that I was so open minded growing up but either way I followed what felt right. However in high school I did happen to struggle with understanding my true sexuality, I started questioning myself as to what I was. I knew I liked girls but everyone expected me to marry a man, what if I’m not attracted to men because I haven’t met the right one? So many questions I had no answers to, luckily I had friends who were open minded and we were able to figure something’s out. My friend Logan hated labels, always has so through out high school she’d always say not to label your sexuality. Growing up with my uncle being gay, I knew who in the family was accepting and who wasn’t. When I came to terms with my sexuality I knew who I’d come out to first. I’d say I had it pretty easy though, I lost a few family members and received hate from them because of their religious values but at the end of the day it could have been alot worse. I came out at 17 as a lesbian and by the time I was 19 most of my family knew. Throughout the time I’ve been openly gay I’ve only had a few scary experiences but I defiantly consider myself lucky.

Hannah’s so good with words, the way she spoke about depression was on point. Now I don’t remember the first time I started to self harm, my sister says she remembers me being 10 punching the side walk while we waited for the bus. I don’t remember that but that was the year I watched my sister have her first of many seizure’s, crying in her best friends arms asking if she’s going to die. That day has never left my mind, at that age I was already dealing with bullying maybe that was the tipping point. That was also the year after my mom betrayed me for the second time which is a whole other story so maybe that was the first time, maybe it did start that young or maybe it started even younger than that, I remember being 7 years old just wanting to fight and I always put myself in dangerous situations that I knew I couldn’t get out of because I wanted to get hurt, would that be self harm? I’m not sure but if it does my self harm journey started a lot earlier than I thought. If I was to say when I started self harming, personally I’d say 12 because to be honest my first vivid memory of self harm was at 12 (unless the age 7 thing counts), As a kid I didn’t know how to deal with my anxiety or emotions, instead I would pull out hair and punch any surface I could find. One specific memory that’s coming to mind was during Christmas, I remember being in the basement of my grandmas house alone while everyone else was having a good time. I’m not sure what was wrong or if something happened that morning but I remember repeatedly slamming my head against the wall. From then on forward there’s just a lot of memories of punching things, I even did what hannah said in the book- I use to press my fist against a wall as hard as I could. It wasn’t until I was 14 I moved from punching things to cutting, I soon realized that was the worst thing I could have done. I tried to hide it but it didn’t always work out. My scars became aggressive, almost impossible to hide. Grade 9 was the first year anyone asked me what they saw, we were close friends and she just wanted to help but it drove us away from each other. Later that year she was actually the one who got me the help i needed but didn’t appreciate at the time but am so grateful for today. She told the counselor she talked to and later that day I was called down. The help I received was on and off for 2 years but by the time I was in grade 11 I was receiving the help i needed for self harm and depression constantly. I still receive help today and its a everyday struggle but I haven’t relapsed for 3 years, which is the longest I’ve ever gone. There’s times when I put my fist against a wall wanting to do it but Instead I take a deep breath and go do something that’ll distract me from whatever is making me want to do it, which really does work.

In grade 3 I was diagnosed with ADHD, and saw a psychiatrist again at 20 because growing up I always heard “ADHD isn’t real” or “you’ll outgrow it” or “you just need to focus” the stigma around it made me felt like it didn’t exist and that something else must be going on and that I was misdiagnosed, turns out I wasn’t. I learned a lot about ADHD after that and realized a lot of the little things I did was because of it. Things like having to start reading whole chapters over when I’m basically done it because I got distracted by something else, or when my mind is racing because there is so many things I want to do but I don’t know where to start, why i always detect the slightest sounds and stop everything I’m doing to see what it was, How my mind only becomes a sponge to the things i ’m passionate about, why I always have to be doing something with my hands and Why my mind will be filled with a million thoughts and i’ll forget about what I was supposed to do but i’ll come upon a topic that’s so amazing that I put 110% into that topic. In that moment I can’t think about anything else. Lets just say thank god for therapists and psychologists!

I kept feeling drawn back to my own memories while reading this book but It also had things I’ve never dealt with so it was really eye opening. It showed me a side of hannah we rarely ever see. I’ve taken so many things away from this book to use to better my life and I’m grateful to be alive in a generation that hannah is apart of. I do feel bad she had to relive those memories to write this book though but she’s created such a beautiful written book, that will be forever imprinted in millions of minds, creating a more united community in understanding issues most people don’t talk about while braking stigmas and I hope she realizes how amazing that is. I. Do want to say Everyone should listen to chapter 22. It breaks my heart knowing how many family’s in the world don’t receive the help they need with mental illness because of legal reasons. Everyone deserves to be treated and live as “normal” of a life as possible but in today’s world it feels like mental illness is swept under the rug and left for dead and that’s not okay! Our system is broken, always has been. If we are capable of change, why can’t a system be to? Why do we feel things are out of our reach? Is it because the government makes some of us feel small, maybe because we fear we’ll fail, or is it because we don’t think it’s our problem? But if its not our problem, then who’s is it? There’s a quote I love to live by “if not now, then when?. If not you, then who?”. I think that fits perfectly here, a lot of us have been affected by loved ones having mental illnesses un medicated or you’re dealing with it yourself but either way we all know someone or will in our life time. The legal system when it comes to things like sexual assault, mental illness/health, foster care, etc is horrible. Hannah has made the impossible possible with getting her mom help, but it was hard enough for her to do that so what about the rest of the world? Things NEED to change, breaking the stigma and raising awareness is a start but beyond the stigma, laws need to be changed too. I recommend everyone to read or listen to the audio of this breathtaking book, you won’t regret it. To you Hannah thank you so much for being such a kind, honest, humble human. You stand up for what you believe in and that’s really inspiring. I hope the best for your family and if there’s honestly anything at all I could do, simply just let me know. Everyday is a struggle that we don’t know until its already happening and the hardest thing to do is be positive in those moments, even hannah deals with moments insecurity, struggle, depression, etc but to anyone reading this you’re worthy of happiness and a good life. In times of struggle try your best to practice reckless optimism. It won’t be easy but you have the power to choose some of the battles you face. We have the power to break stigma, the power to make change. Hannah has shown us time after time we have a voice, we have the ability to impact lives. So lets practice reckless optimism, stand for something and make a difference. Whither it’s with one life or hundreds, go out and try to make a difference and be kind to one another.

So my grandmother always told me to keep a clean house

Growing up, my mother would often take my siblings and me to visit my grandmother in New York. It was about a two-hour drive from where we lived in Allentown. My grandmother isn’t the most pleasant woman and from an early age I grew to dislike visiting her. What didn’t help was the language barrier between an old Hispanic woman and her monolingual grandson. I couldn’t speak Spanish too well, but I understand it perfectly. My grandma was full of all these annoying superstitions and ghost stories that she would tell us when my mom wasn’t around to scold her for filling our heads with “brujeria” as mom called it.
One quip that always stuck out to me was my grandma’s warnings of cluttered spaces and general lack of upkeep. I can’t quite get the phrasing to English but she would say something along the lines of, “more than dust gathers in a cluttered room,” in this knowing and foreboding tone whenever I left toys out or my towel on her bathroom floor.
That’s when I started to see them. After we left my grandma’s apartment and were back in the townhouse in Allentown, I became uneasy. I walked into the room I shared with my brother and realized how dirty it was. Clothes all over the floor, my coloring books in a heap on the play rug, toys under my bed…
Being too tired and too much of a six year-old to clean up my mess, I resolved to take a nap. As I changed out of my clothes and pulled my shirt over my head, I heard rustling on the ground and then this awful noise. The sound your knees make when they groan against wood flooring, that low grinding sound and then the creak of the slats giving a bit under the pressure. It sent chills up my spine. I turned and yanked my shirt back down and in that moment I saw all my clothes just hitting the ground as if they’d been floating in the air.
I bolted out of the room and as I turned to go down the hallway I looked back and what I saw nearly had me peeing myself. In the clothes on the floor were these contorted, smiling faces. Just staring back at me. I ran to my mother, crying and trying to explain.
After calming me down she later went to my room with my brother and cleaned up. My sister let me sleep in her room and as I was finally heading off to bed, I could hear my mother arguing with my grandma over the phone. I could make out the words “dirty” and “spirits” before my sister shut the bedroom door.
After that incident I developed an obsession with keeping things off the floor and putting everything in its place. To the point where it annoyed others. My roommate still doesn’t understand why I freak out when I come home to a sink full of dishes or when he doesn’t hang up his coat.

How to Pick a Base Pattern

Alternatively, “How to Find ‘Where to Start’ on a Cosplay”

After grabbing a new pattern to tear apart for my next cosplay, I got to thinking about how a lot of newer cosplayers could use a little guidance when it comes to planning out how to tackle a fresh sewing project. I had at least a couple twitter friends show interest in something like this, so I decided to take a little time to talk about how I personally go about organizing my plan of attack when I’m ready to sew something new!

This is much less of a strict how-to and more of a general guideline of things to think about/look for when you feel a little lost on how to go about sewing that cosplay you have your eye on.

So, if you’ve ever looked at a character you want to cosplay and thought “Oh boy, where do I even start?” and your first instinct is to ask someone else, then this guide may be beneficial to you! 

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An Undertale Fanfiction

Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / AO3 LINK
Characters: Sans, Grillby, Papyrus, Royal Doggies
Setting: Baby Blaster AU
Contains: SAD CHILDREN. Mentions of child abuse.
Synopsis: A little more light is shed into the children’s dark past. A family is created and an old warrior is called to aid.



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What grief displays… is the thrall in which our relations with others hold us, in ways that we cannot always recount or explain, in ways that often interrupt the self-conscious account of ourselves we might try to provide, in ways that challenge the very notion of ourselves as autonomous and in control. I might try to tell a story here about what I am feeling, but it would have to be a story in which the very “I” who seeks to tell the story is stopped in the midst of the telling; the very “I” is called into question by its relation to the Other, a relation that does not precisely reduce me to speechlessness, but does nevertheless clutter my speech with signs of its undoing. I tell a story about the relations I choose, only to expose, somewhere along the way, the way I am gripped and undone by these very relations. My narrative falters, as it must.
Let’s face it. We’re undone by each other. And if we’re not, we’re missing something.
—  Violence, Mourning, Politics by Judith Butler

The box came up as usual, but it had a bit of a crowd for the supplies. Newt looked at the toppled boxes with stuff spilling out. “Took a tumble on the way up,” he noted.

“Can you look for nails in there?” A builder asked. Newt looked at Alby who just nodded.

The pair started to pull random stuff out until something foreign caught Newt’s eye. “What’s this?” He mumbled to himself. It had two cloth cups with straps that connects in the back.

Newt picked it up, having no idea what it was. A feeling of disgust went through him, like he wasn’t suppose to hold it, but he had no idea what it was. “Anyone knows what this is?”

The Gladers looked at it before a chorus of shrugs and nonspecific noises followed. Newt handed it to the nearest Glader who felt the same disgust and passed it to someone else.

“Shucking weird things the Creators sent up,” Alby noticed, “Smaller clothes. Weird smelling soap.“ He smelt it and cringed at how floral it was.

Alby found a box that looked almost like bandaids. “Clint, did you need more bandaids?”

“Not that I know of,” he replied and took the box. The back of it talked about a cycle that he had never heard of. “I know none of these words.”

Newt looked at it. “Uh, the adhesive is on the back where the soft part isn’t? That makes no bloody sense.”

The Gladers began murmuring about the items. “Ok, don’t worry,” Alby reassured, “We just have to think. What changed from the last time?”

“Thomas came last time,” someone yelled from the crowd.

“Then, someone go get Thomas.”

When Thomas came, he looked at the weird things. “What do you want me to tell you?”

“Any of these look familiar to you?” Newt asked.

His eyes scanned the items. “Sort of, but I don’t know,” Thomas said.

“Might as well take everything else out,” Minho pointed out. The Gladers nodded and began taking out the toppled items.

Everyone froze when they heard a groan from the pile. “What was that?” Alby asked.

“I think someone’s in here!” A Glader called.

A hand shot up from the clutter. The boys all grabbed some sort of shield and backed away. “I thought the alarm went off when there was a Greenie?” Thomas recalled.

“Yeah, and that’s you,” Alby agreed, “We weren’t due one for another month.”

The hand was able to push some of the items out of the way and pull its body out. All of the boys looked in shock as a girl pulled herself out of the clutter.

She looked around, very confused. The girl opened her mouth, but the Gladers rose their miscellaneous items to protect themselves. Instead, she found rose her other arm that had a kitchen knife.

“Where did she get a bloody knife from?” Newt demanded.

“Frypan must have asked for them.”

The silence continued until Minho laughed nervously. “Isn’t someone gonna give a pep talk?”

The Gladers looked at Thomas since it was usually the last Greenie to help out, but he had just got there and began stuttering. Alby just approached her carefully. “Welcome to the Glade, Greenie?”

“Greenie?” She asked, still holding the knife.

“Well, what’s your name?”

The girl lowered the knife slowly. “Y/N.”

“Congratulations, Y/N,” Newt cut in, “You’re the first girl Glader.” He took the knife away before she hurt herself or someone else. “Day 1.”

Rude Ass People

One time I was bussing a table and this was on a weekend so we were a full restaurant on a wait and this guy at the table next to me leaned over and placed his dirty dishes on the table.

I thought of that because last night a busser was cleaning a table and this guy from a different table (it was probably six feet away) stood up, grabbed his two dirty dishes, walked over to the busser and placed them on the table he was trying to clean. I was walking by as it happened and I made eye contact with the busser and he just shook his head and was like “did that really just happen?” And I laughed. LOUDLY. I hope that table heard me because that was rude as fuck. If the dishes were really cluttering the table that bad (which they weren’t! There were three plates and three glasses total on the table) the guy could have been like “excuse me, would you mind taking our plates?” And one of us would have done so no problem.

I told their server about this and she said they were incredibly rude and weird. The guy who added the dirty dishes to the table also made her stand there for ten minutes while he ordered. We have this burger called the “____ burger” (can’t remember which one exactly) and he asked her WHAT it is, not what was on it, but what kind of food item it was. And she was like “a burger?” And he was like “oh no I don’t like that”

And while I’m on the topic of rude ass people I might as well mention this terror table this same server had a couple weeks ago. The guy was vegan and he got upset because his bun had butter on it so instead of asking the server about it like an adult, he threw it at her and yelled at her. The server told him that our butter is synthetic so its 100% safe for vegans and she will not be getting him a new bun since he threw it at her. The guy then tried to fight her and then him and his family got up and walked out.

Nightshifter - Part 1

Word Count: 2496

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warning: Language

Series Rewrite Masterlist

You were supposed to be helping Sam interrogate the manager of a jewelry store that had just been robbed, but you couldn’t force yourself to pay attention. You were too busy watching Dean flirt with a cashier to get some paperwork you needed. You knew it didn’t mean anything, but you couldn’t help but be jealous. He was so good at it; sometimes you forgot he was doing it for the job. Sam cleared his throat and nudged you, trying to divert your attention back to the manager.

“Helena was our head buyer.” He said. “She…she was family, you know? She said it herself, every year at the Christmas party. She said we were the only family she had.”

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The Psychology of Clutter - WSJ

The Psychology of Clutter - from The Wall Street Journal

Difficulty letting go of your stuff can also go hand in hand with separation anxiety, compulsive shopping, perfectionism, procrastination and body-image issues. And the reluctance to cope can create a vicious cycle of avoidance, anxiety and guilt.

In most cases, however, psychologists say that clutter can be traced to what they call cognitive errors—flawed thinking that drives dysfunctional behaviors that can get out of hand.

Among the most common clutter-generating bits of logic: “I might need these someday.” “These might be valuable.” “These might fit again if I lose (or gain) weight.”

“We all have these dysfunctional thoughts. It’s perfectly normal,” Dr. Rego says. The trick, he says, is to recognize the irrational thought that makes you cling to an item and substitute one that helps you let go, such as, “Somebody else could use this, so I’ll give it away.”

See also: Earlier Unconsumption posts on clutter / decluttering here.

Fic: The Evolution of Fox

Title: The Evolution of Fox
Author: @campaignofmisinformation
Rating: PG
POV: Third Person: Mulder
Timeline: Post Season 9 AU, Canon Divergent after Scary Monsters
Summary: Four times William calls Mulder Fox and one time he doesn’t.
Author’s Notes: @noamchimpsky‘s head canon about Maggie being the reason William calls Mulder Fox, along with Toddler actor William and Gillian’s Daddy/Fox exchange inspired whatever this is. And of course, @tofutti-rice-dreamsicle is bae as beta. Even though we completely devolved into horrifyingly terrible alternate endings there at the end.


The thump of his tattered bag on the floor makes him wince. He feels like an invader in this place that used to feel more like home than his own. What was once an immaculate living room is now cluttered with colorful toys and toddler paraphernalia. So much has changed, more than he had imagined during long, lonely nights spent far away from here. From them.


He hears her calling from the guestroom, the one he’d slept in during late night cases and post parental deaths, and tries to find his voice.

“It’s me,” he whispers. But he isn’t sure who “me” is anymore. He’s lived 10,000 years in the last 367 days.

“William, wait!” Scully yells, two seconds before a toddler appears in the hallway. The boy halts as soon as his eyes catch the stranger in the living room. Mulder can’t breathe. William points at him.

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A new oil painting has just arrived in what may be the world’s most clandestine art gallery — the fine arts collection at the headquarters of the Central Intelligence Agency.

This commissioned work isn’t your typical still life; the tableau is a busy clutter of gear — photos, blueprints, weapons and ammunition.

CIA museum director Toni Hiley says this painting — the 21st in the collection — is purposely complex. A Contingency for Every Action shows artifacts from major covert actions going back to World War II. “It’s what we call an Easter egg painting,” Hiley says. She calls it an “Easter egg,” because nestled within are little hints from missions that are still classified.

Unless you’re a CIA officer, you’ll probably never get to see the painting in person. Which might make you wonder: Why does the CIA have an art gallery at all?

A Peek Into The CIA Art Gallery Reveals [REDACTED]

Images: Courtesy of CIA

theartistformerlyknownasgrif  asked:

Kdin, I love your edits in the newer videos, it reminds me of Kevin/Barry from Game Grumps. Would you have happened to take a note from their editing styles?

I’ve been doing it for a while now, actually.  One of the first Let’s Builds I edited I tossed a “Threatening Message” to Ryan in and people loved it.

I tend to only add things in when they are appropriate and needed or when I’m feeling particularly snarky.

However I noticed a significant amount of comments across most social media platforms that folks have been enjoying my little notes more and more.  So I’ve been a bit more liberal with adding them in.

Sometimes they don’t work, like in the “Tales from the Borderlands” Let’s Play we put out today.  Adding in things would have just made it more cluttered, despite my incredible Borderlands fandomness seeping from my veins crying out desperately to add some comments.

Then there are things like this week’s Play Pals where Geoff made a direct call out to me, so of course I had to respond.

Of course there’s also things like the “Human Error” screen which you probably saw in this week’s Minecraft.  Which is me commenting on the situation, but in a more indirect way.

And then there’s stuff like what you’ll see in the bonus Let’s Play coming out this Sunday which…is me when I have way too much time on my hands.

Kevin and Barry are great editors, but I didn’t really take the note from them as I had done it way before Game Grumps and Achievement Hunter Let’s Plays were even a thing, though I do very much enjoy that style and always have!

I would say they’re consistent use of it encouraged me to do it more though.

Would love to do an “Editing Content for The Internet” panel with them at a convention if the opportunity ever arose!