try no matter what

The worst that could have happened

My computer completely died this morning. My computer that has all my art projects, including EERiE, on it won’t turn on, no matter what I try. I already asked a friend who knows his stuff about computers but it looks like there is only the option of replacing it. Which still means that all my comic progress is lost and I have to start all over again. Works of months just gone. I’m very sad right now and I can’t afford a new computer anytime soon.


With that being said, digital art is discontinued for an unknown amount of time. I’m really just depressed. I don’t know what to do now. I’m very sorry, too.

Victubia is doomed

I gave my opinion on the whole Pewdiepie situation recently, which was that what he said was just a word and that there was no racial context to it but shouldn’t have said it because he used it as an insult but in a game that it is probably said by many others. I state my opinion and the “great” Mods of Gabbi the creator of the Victubia fandom basically labeled me a racist and said my opinion was wrong. Typical response from people that don’t like what someone says that opposes their views. They hold N*gger as like a forbidden word not to be said at all no matter what when we’re trying to take away the power it holds and just dumb it down into just a word and nothing more. Then I get kicked out of their discord all because I fought back and defended myself when I felt attacked.

The Victubia fandom community is run by people who abuse their power behind the scenes and gets rid of those whose beliefs and views differ from theirs. They claim to be a “loving” and “accepting” community when it’s a bullshit lie. They may say whatever they want, but they’re in the wrong.

Fireworks

This was sitting on FF for a while now. I’m posting it because right now I have so many ideas I can’t decide which one to start working on.

-=oOo=-

Her head hurt.

She sighed and massaged her temples, trying to close herself to the unstoppable tide of emotions that were flooding the Tower. But doors and walls could not attenuate her empathic sense, and the feelings of at least thirty young superheroes having a New Year’s celebration crashed into her again and again, no matter what she did to try and insulate herself from it.

Someone knocked at her door, causing a flash of anger to sweep through her.

“Yes?” she inquired sharply, her control slipping.

“Friend Raven, it is I!” a happy voice came from behind the closed door. “It is the half past the eleventh hour, and we all wish you to be with us and share in the welcoming of the New Year!”

Raven sighed and squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her fingers harder into the sides of her head.

“Give me a few minutes more, Star!” she managed to say to the door. The bubbly Tamaranean was apparently satisfied with her answer and her aura floated away to increase the already unbearably bright array of emotions that blazed from the Ops room.

Azarath… Metrion… Zinthos…

Her body fell into the familiar, soothing rhythm of breathing and her mind slowly started calming down as her mantra allowed her to focus and ignore the tidal wave of sensations and feelings that was flowing into her. The headache slowly began fading.

Again someone knocked at her door.

Red flames appeared for a second in her eyes when she sensed who was knocking.

Oh, sweet Azar deliver me. Not him. Anyone but him.

“Rae?”

“What is it, Beast Boy?” she snarled at the closed door. As always, it felt good to snap at him. As always, she felt the sharp stab of shame in her gut as soon as she did it.

[The rest is below]

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I’ve decided to euthanize Bubba. I hate it, I wish I’d had more time with him, but I really feel like it would be selfish to try to drag him back. I don’t think he’ll make it no matter what I try, and he’s suffered enough. He would just get sick again soon anyway.


I love you Bubba. Thank you for wiggling for me, even when it was hard.

Different ways to draw trolls: A Chart

Tag where you’d be

…jimin’s shirt during his contemporary dance performance… was really nice……!! 💦💦💦

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE!!!
[my original tweet]

docs.google.com
A note from the Indivisible Team
A note for all of us who feel defeated after Sessions from the Indivisible Team: This is the long game.

A note for all of us who feel defeated after Sessions from the Indivisible Team: This is the long game. We are going to lose a lot. We are going to get good at losing. We are going to lose cabinet votes for terrible nominees. We are going to lose bills that are offensive and appalling. But while we are losing, something else is going to happen. We are going to keep raising our voices and slowly our representatives are going to start listening to us. We’ve seen it happen. 


It won’t happen because of next week’s call to action. It’ll happen over months, where you keep showing up, regularly. Then, we are going to start winning. It’ll sneak up on us. We won’t understand why we are winning. But it starts with losing in a particular way- where we raise our voices and call it out when we aren’t listened to, where we get close but not quite there.

The first 100 days of a President’s term are the honeymoon period, the moment when he’s most likely to get his agenda enacted. Trump is spending his first 100 days mired in controversy, scandal, and backbiting - and that’s because you haven’t for a moment let anyone in Washington forget just how unpopular he is.

Every time we change the narrative, every time we delay, every time there’s a newspaper story about a member of Congress avoiding his or her constituents, that’s a win. And it matters.

You have already made history. You’ve delayed the confirmation of Trump’s cabinet picks longer than any time in recent history. You stopped the gutting on the congressional ethics office. You’ve made Republicans so nervous about the repeal of the Affordable Care Act that it’s been pushed further and further down the road. You caused an uproar of historic proportions over Trump’s Muslim ban and saved lives and reunited families in the process. You’ve inspired people who have never before taken action to make their voices heard and learn how to do things like check how their members of Congress voted and call them out for it.

We’ll never even know about some of the victories - because those will be the fights that this Administration considered starting and then realized it couldn’t win.

We’re in this together. Every visit. Every call. Every loss. Every win. That’s just what friends do. #StandIndivisible

In solidarity,

The Indivisible Team

You know how people describe bpd with black and white thinking?

 If you don’t have bpd, it is impossible to explain how much this effects our lives. (My life at least because people casually get offended when i generalize what i mean with people like me in mind.)

Just. My point is, I am tired of having no grays.

I either try to starve myself while feeling guilty for not eating healthy or I eat 5 chocolate bars in a row and then spent the rest of the day feeling disgusting and fat.

It is just chocolate. I can’t enjoy a fucking chocholate.

And not just that either;

I don’t go out for months and then one day at a weird ass hour I am out there trying to figure out things to do so I don’t have to go back home any time soon.

I ignore cleaning my room for weeks and then I am cleaning between the tiles with a toothbrush because there may be dirt in there.

I don’t shower for days, sometimes almost weeks, and then I am busy spending an entire day with beauty products because self care is important.

I hate myself for who I became because it is my fault or I hate people who made me this way because it is not my fault.

All I need to get my life back together is just to start doing something but then I see no point in trying because no matter what I do I know it will never be enough to get my life back together ever again.

I am just so tired. That is all I am saying.

Am I missing something? I was under the impression that, now more than ever, feminists were loud and present and defensive. I thought I was seeing a wave of even braver men and women on social media, calling out bullshit and striking down misogyny. I thought the last nine months built an online army of journalists and Twitter users and anyone else who’s fed up with sexism and its disturbing presence in the administration, fighting every day against the trails of normalized misogyny Trump leaves behind and defending the women who speak out about it.

But there’s a ringing silence now. And it’s looming around Taylor Swift’s groping trial. A woman who is constantly attacked for being silent is now getting the worst of it.

Colorado DJ David Mueller is suing Swift for $3 million in damages after she alleged that he lifted her skirt and grabbed her during a meet-and-greet photo op. Mueller was fired soon after, and sued Swift, her mother, and her radio promotions director for defamation.

As much as grabbing women in sexual violation has been dismissed and normalized by our country’s leaders and its people, it’s an issue of sexual assault that made Andrea Swift want to “vomit and cry at the same time” seeing the look on her daughter’s face post-backstage incident.

Firsthand, I’ve seen girls run out of clubs in a heartbreaking tearful mixture of shock, fury and disturbance after a man grabbed them sexually without any form of consent. I’ve seen girls weakly laugh it off because they think that’s what they’re supposed to do. And I’ve seen guys stammer excuse after excuse after excuse, because they’re taught to search for anything to blame but themselves.

I’ve also seen girls, on and offline, race to the defense of those who were violated. I’ve seen them deliver completely scathing responses to regular people and political leaders alike who try to dismiss a woman’s story of sexual assault in any way or call it anything less than it is.

These people I’ve seen are incredibly vocal. They like to hold others accountable, and they spend a really admirable amount of energy spouting their support to women, famous and not, who choose to speak out about their sexual assault experience.

Let’s just take Ke$ha’s trial, shall we? Tons of celebrities, journalists and everyone in between shouted their encouragement, their disgust at her alleged abuser. Adele used her acceptance speech at the 2016 Brit Awards to publicly express her support of Ke$ha. Lady Gaga, Ariana Grande, Snoop Dogg, Kelly Clarkson, Lorde and a clump of other pop stars (apologies to Snoop Dogg and his admirers for grouping him into a ‘pop stars’ category) used Twitter to do the same.

And then, two days after a New York judge denied Ke$ha a court injunction, Taylor Swift donated $250,000 towards any of Ke$ha’s financial needs. Kind, right? Nope, no one seemed to think so. Internet users everywhere shamed Swift for her donation, including the “I-always-know-the-best-thing-to-say-on-the-Internet” Demi Lovato.

Lovato tweeted “Take something to Capitol Hill or actually speak out about something and then I’ll be impressed.” This attitude was reiterated widely across Twitter, because it’s Twitter. And also because Taylor Swift, no matter what on the Lord’s green Earth she does, cannot win. But that’s another story that would take pages and pages to tell, so I’ll refrain myself.

Swift was ripped apart for “silence” after her donation. She was also ripped apart for her “silence” during the Women’s March. She Tweeted about it, celebrating the day and expressing her pride in everyone who marched. But of course that wasn’t enough, because it never is. She was annihilated for not going to her local march. (Even though she’s one of most photographed and stalked celebrities in the industry and could probably not go to a march without people harassing her and/or accusing her of going for attention and a photo op, but whatever it’s fine.)

Before my fury completely takes over my fingers and I start to type a fuming address to everyone who continually hates this girl because it’s what they’ve been in the habit of doing since 2012, let me take it back to the trial.

I’ve never heard silence quite this loud. (I hate myself, that is a Taylor Swift lyric, whatever.) It’s obvious, and not just to me.

…Everyone is a feminist until it comes to Taylor Swift. This has been proven to me enough times to make me scream internally while staring at Tumblr.com. Demi, is your Internet down? Or are you in a plane on the way to Capitol Hill to discuss sexual assault and actually impress someone?

Where is everyone? Where are the mighty feminists I so admire, I so try to be? Suddenly they aren’t as loud.

But Taylor Swift, no matter what card you think she plays, is a forcibly strong human being. To be hunted down every day physically and on the Internet, to be mocked at absolutely every turn, you can’t be a weak person. You just can’t.

Swift only countersued for $1. Before you open your mouth or press that little blue button in the corner to compose a Tweet, close it and take your hands off the keyboard. She’s not doing this for the money. Her mother wanted to keep it private until DJ Mueller sued. She’s doing this to show every other girl who watches her with adoring eyes and the ones who pretend they don’t that you can report your sexual assault. You can hold the person accountable. She’s showing men who mock her for her dating life but objectify her at the same time that they will not be tolerated. And it’s being met with silence. But we’ve known since the early days of 2010 that silence doesn’t follow Taylor Alison Swift for long, and it won’t now.

—  Huffington Post article discussing the feminists’ silence on the Taylor Swift sexual assault trial (x)
2

Beautiful, angry Sammy  (¬‿¬ )

So lemme tell y'all a story:

I was in 10th grade honours English. I loved my teacher - she was super cool, but didn’t take any shit from anyone. During our time with her, she was going through a rough divorce.

Our teacher had developed this system: if we were good, she’d add “time” to our class, with each “time” being worth ten seconds, so we had to work hard. That meaning, she would give us a free period after we’d built up the exact time that a period extended to be. It was an earned privilege, and we always did our best to try and obtain it. Hell, playing puzzle games and reading was way more fun than a test or worksheet!

We were reading Animal Farm, a book my mom had given to me when I was ten bc she knew I loved to read and enjoyed anything that was thought-provoking. I’d read it then, and again later in my parochial middle school. Living in a big city, public schools aren’t well-funded, and I was lucky to have all my close family scrape together cash for a good education. Needless to say, I was rather familiar with the book.

Now back to the system! Our teacher had implemented a rule that every morning (she taught my first period class) we wood stand up and recite the commandments of animalism. We’d all try our hardest to do it perfectly, lest “time” be taken off our class. But one morning, she was… cold.

My classmates who’d recited before me were all told to sit down and stop reciting, because they were “wrong.” Knowing that, I was confused, as was everyone else. Yet, we all kept trying the same thing. She let the first few people finish. Then, she let people get partially through before she’d utter, “wrong” or something of the sort and deduct our hard-earned time.

It finally got to me; it was my turn. I stood up and started, and was immediately shut down by her. I was frustrated, to say the least. I replied after a second and told her that I was, indeed, right. She muttered for me to sit down. I refused, and by now she’d taken off twenty seconds. Everyone groaned, but I continued to disobey. Eventually, my classmates started telling me to just stop and it turned into yelling at me once I’d lost our hard-earned twenty minutes (meaning we had been halfway to a free period) as I continued to argue. Once we were in the negatives, people were literally yelling obscenities at me. They even yelled at her, blaming her divorce and period. Gross behaivour, mind you.

I didn’t stop.

The teacher said that she was going to call security and have me removed. I replied that it was a-okay with me to do so. I promptly walk out of the room and she followed up by telling me to wait in the hallway. I’d intended to walk to the office myself, but obliged figuring it was no matter to me.

I was in the hallway for about a minute before she rushed out and gently grabbed me by the shoulders. I was rightly confused. She gasped, and stammered out that she had never imagined it would happen. Why was she suddenly not being so ruthless? Why was she flabbergasted? Well, apparently what she’d “wanted” was for us to all fail. That it was a lesson, and she’d have given back the “time” she had removed. It was all about “knowing” what was coming, and how fascism meant that the rules could change at any time, without your knowledge and consent, but you could still be punished for it. She told me that she’d called security, and told them if they saw me in the hall during that call, to excuse me. Nobody had done that before. Apparently, throughout her decades of teaching, not one student had done that. They had all caved and sat down eventually.

You can be that person. In something that matters to us all. It’s not fun, but when has fighting for what’s right ever been easy?

September 16, 2017

Today marks 365 days since I started my weight-loss journey. Some of these photos I was very reluctant to post because I’ve never enjoyed showing my body or made myself so vulnerable on social media, but this is me and where I am today. There’s so many things I want to say and share about this past year, but I think what’s most important is that I’m happy and healthy. I had great support from friends and family, fought through tons of self doubt, and kept looking towards the finish line the entire time. They weren’t lying in health class, it really is all about eating right, drinking lots of water, and working out. As of now I have lost a total of 95lbs. A year ago today I made a choice, and I will never turn back. To the girl from a year ago, I want you to know that you were beautiful no matter what size you wore or what you weighed on the scale, and I’m glad you decided to change your lifestyle so you could be healthy and work on your physical and mental health. If only you could see now how much better you feel about yourself and about life. I hope I can share this and inspire some people no matter what it is they’re trying to achieve in life right now. Stick with it and believe in yourself. You can do it! ✨💪🏻🎉

Love yourself just as you are or love yourself as you change yourself. Your own happiness and health (mental or physical) are whats the most important.

say you won’t let go | 01

 part 01 | part 02 [final] 

Summary: You’ve been eighteen years old for ten years when Jungkook first moves in.
Pairing: Jungkook | Reader
Genre: Fluff/Angst; Roommate/Soulmate AU (In which you stop aging when you turn 18 until you meet your soulmate)
Word Count: 12,038
Author’s Note: I was going to wait and upload the whole thing in one giant oneshot but for the stake of everyone’s sanity, it’ll be split into two parts. props to @minsvga for always being down to beta! 

.

The morning comes like clockwork, obviously, but sometimes you wish it didn’t. Sometimes, the morning is like an unexpected gust of wind, blowing away the present and the comfort and leaving you alone with nothing but your thoughts and the disappointing feeling akin to the sensation of something missing from your life. Which, considering everything the world and the fates and the bonds that connect individuals together and all the shit like that, is not too far off from a relevant problem in your life.

The days seem to blend together, time slipping between your fingers but leaving you with no opportunity or way to stop it or prolong it. You certainly feel different, older somehow and probably wiser, and you’re sure it shows in your eyes, in the curl of your lips, in the longing touch of your smile.

But you crawl out of bed in the morning, feet landing like a gentle sigh on the carpet, following the hall down to your bathroom until you’re situated in front of the sink and taking a long glance at your reflection. You don’t know why you insist to yourself to always look at the mirror, because it’s not like anything would have changed overnight, nothing ever really does. You take in your expression, the skin of your face and the darkness of your eyes, a harsh contrast to the youth of your face, the curve of your nose and the sharpness of your jawline—you: fresh, and young and not a day over eighteen-years-old, just as you have been for ten years.

This has been the way of human life since its creation, a science with no explanation and a connection that cannot be seen or heard or even felt. It’s a different kind of connection, moreso the type of link that brings two people together, two people whoever has a hand in predetermination believe would be the best fit for each other. A soulmate, an individual meant to compliment you in every aspect, someone gifted to you from unidentifiable figures; figures you would not even believe existed if not for the world they created and built, a world you now inhabited.

In theory, the unspoken rules of the whole soulmate business seemed easy: a case in which the aging process stops at the eighteen until one’s soulmate came along, done so in order for the pair of them to gain the ability to grow old together, experience life together, be there for each other during the true ups and downs of college and jobs and family. Every single person you’ve ever stumbled upon each has their own story, their own tales of their relationship. You’ve met people in a relationship that never grew, friends who realized they were each other’s everything, individuals who went through years upon years upon years of life with a soulmate fresh out of the gate—always a variety, never a wrong answer or a right one. Yet, they all seem happy, no matter where the path of life seems to take them.

But now that you’ve been eighteen for a solid ten years, you’re ready to call major bullshit on every single individual who dared to look you in the eye and tell you that they don’t care about the unwinding of fate.

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