#Hair physics is killing me

[hiimtheproblem87times]

YOU GUYS BETTER BE PREPARED FOR THEM >>>>>>>

Genderbend ver. of the Mercanaries and Victim

[toyourliking]

golden boy 🌟

speed painting/time lapse will be edited together when i recover from this 😪

[lylahammar]

why the fuck is it so socially acceptable to say hateful stuff about people with red hair

[rooolt]

THE FULL FITS WERE SO MUCH CRAZIER THAN I EVER COULD HAVE IMAGINED

[rotruff]

listen man do whatever it takes to be happy who cares have fun and play. draw yourself with that obscure character. make a playlist for that selfship with a popular character. if it takes imagining your f/o telling you to take care of yourself then by god it better be in 4k definition. be happy take care of yourself do what you want forever the world is your oyster

[j-liz]

It is indeed Devil May Cry 5 :)

Goddamn it

[asspinkie]

why do ppl intensely mod the bg3 origin characters. if you’re not a monster/alien/old man fucker then don’t fuck them. simple

[batz]

HI if anyone is interested in a commission they r Open. the Entire Kitchen is packed up so i have Nothing to cook on for tonight and im hungry after running up and down flights of stairs moving 483937392 boxes

ALTHOUGH cooking an egg just Right on the stove element sounds fun (for th landlord to clean up LOL)

[bylertruther]

imma keep it real with you guys and tell u the most basic common sense thing ever which i thought everyone knew but apparently not (not said in a mean or condescending way). ahem. it's ok to write a byler fic that only has byler in it. no one is going to stone you or bite you if you don't include the entire party or every other character. it's literally okay 🩷

[weaselmcdiesel]

*spins your young frankenstein*

[toxooz]

me emotionally switching from 50 year old dad to middle schooler every 5 minutes this entire year bc the hormonal imbalance is desecrating my rat brain

[queer-boo-radley]

When they only jobs you're qualified for are menial jobs with heavy physical labor and you feel your body starting to break down.

[cloutchaserkineme]

fail, girl!

5:49 p.m. Friday, on a straw mat, with peel-off lipstick on

When we were in a journalism competition, a newspaper columnist came and held a small workshop for us small budding high school students. She was one of those old-Martial Law era types, the ones who got the grit and experience necessary to survive being a journalist here in the Philippines, a dragon with callused wings swanning into a place full of ickle baby lizards with fresh bits of slick membrane still clinging to our scaly lids.

She asked who among those of us competing for the copyreading category in the room wanted to become a journalist. I was the only one who tentatively raised a hand.

She was confused, and a bit disappointed that none of these little reptiles who managed to clear the first two rounds of the competitions wanted to pursue fact-checking and editing and newswriting in totality. I thought she was just reacting as an animal bred for her field- her life was words, and she couldn't fathom anyone else trying so hard to succeed in a field they weren't going to nurture and continue in any way.

At least, that's what I thought she thought then. Now I know she was probably just confused. No other deeper meaning to it.

Like I am right now. I have not been a law student in two to three weeks, just simply going to events and covering them and interviewing clients and transcribing quotes and attempting and failing to write the articles I need to write from them.

I feel impotent and stupid and just plain useless. Those kids who didn't raise their hands... they were smart. They were onto something. They knew that this wasn't a field to pursue if you wanted to be successful in the long term. These smart kids, achievers and top ten placers in their school with their latinate appellations a soft launch for their three-to-four letter profession markers in their certificates.

They were just there because the journalism competition held a lot of points in class and school rankings, not because asking people and getting answers and writing those down and spreading them out was fun and nice to do. They were smart, playing the game like that. I just played with whatever they gave me and never thought to do anything that required higher thinking skills with it.

They gave me a pencil, then a pen, pointed me to people and events and ideas- and I wrote. I didn't think anything beyond that.

Now I type, heavily and with such excess. I don't like what I type, and I think I hate typing...even writing this update is very tiring for me. I don't like it anymore. I don't like the updates getting from my bosses and coworkers, I don't like being jealous and envious of my coworkers having their ducks in their row and effortlessly slaying this industry I thought I was a good fit for. I don't like working for people who use money to do fucking shit in my place, I don't like platforming [type of company redacted for anonymity purposes] on our articles, and I fucking hate talking to people in a large crowd.

A few days ago I met a journalist who never asked questions (fully online desk reporter, though she worked in local print media like I did) and was more anxious than me and I felt a kinship with her and she was nice. Until I saw a friend of mine during the same event, and she congratulated me for getting into law school, and that my cousin from my father's side who failed the bar exam thrice but was married to an attorney he met in law school was surprised that I was still there and why I haven't quit the silly little news writing thing I was doing. And this journalist congratulated me for doing such a good job. I felt like a fraud, like I have inadvertently put her under the same illusion I somehow cast over everyone else- the spell of "oooh look at her she is a competent person who has her ducks in a row".

She has expectations of me that I don't know how to meet!

And I was stressed but I wasn't as stressed as my friends who were also working in offices with solid hours and good career prospects and great work-life-school balance and they had three midterm exams back-to-back.

You know what I did with those same hours? Nothing. Just daydreaming and sleeping thinking about fictional characters being loved and nothing else and I have put off so much. The gig I took, the articles I am three to four days late in passing, the fucking law school!

Killing myself isn't even going to cut it anymore, the phrase has been slicing over so many thoughts in my head for nine months now that the edge of it has dulled and it can't pierce through the brain fog right now.

I want to have my cake and eat it too, like the greedy Jupiter-Venus person that I am (but the Mercury-ruled detriment of both these planets is literally knowing that this isn't practical or realistic or rooted in explainable and measurable actions). So yeah... we go fucking on? I don't know. I don't have much faith in myself any more.

Do I learn how to say no? Or how to stop saying yes?

(30) 6:34 p.m.

[phexart]

So my friends love me and put together a whole weekend oneshot ttrpg game with sentient mechas linked to their pilots and parasitic nano machines JUST FOR ME for my birthday and it RULED and played out exactly like an anime episode and I quickly put together a guy to be the pilot I was playing and here he is and he had the worst day ever but now he's a robot pilot and that's pretty cool

[v-arbellanaris]

i was tagged by the lovely @honeysofte to make some blorbos in this picrew! so here they are!

evadne amell - kalyani tabris faris mahariel - aedan cousland damon hawke - amalia hawke isra trevelyan - marya lavellan

i'm tagging, with no pressure: @justcallmecappy , @ziskandra , @zevsurana , @crossdressingdeath , @dreadfutures , @flashhwing & anyone else who wants to make some ocs in a picrew!

[oglegost]

OH MY GOD. JUST FINISHED MIZUMONO. WHAT THE FUCK? WHAT THE FUCK? WHAT THE FUCK? OH MY GOD. I WAS IN CLASS AND I PHYSICALLY GASPED SO LOUD WHST THE FUCK WAS THAY