#and i am sure its working as well here as it did there

[wandaslittlebird]

Alright, another professor Wanda drabble because I’m utterly whipped for her.

“I think spoken Russian is going to send me to an early grave,” You complained. “I’m good on the written and comprehension sections but the oral pronunciations…” You groaned dramatically, tossing your ‘Russian 101’ book out in front of you and dropping your arms so you were laying prone on bed.

Wanda picked up the book, reading through the dog-eared page you had been studying. “Is this the one you’re struggling with?” She pointed to one of the longer words at the top of the page. It had been twisting your tongue for hours.

You nodded. Wanda placed the book back in your hands and sat down next to you. “You know all the syllables. Just say it slowly, don’t try to cram the sounds together, just say them one at a time.”

You propped yourself back up on your elbows, squinting and bending forward to study the page. You sounded out the word slowly. Each syllable felt like an entire word of its own. It was by no means an elegant attempt, but it was technically correct.

Wanda slide down on the bed so she could press a kiss onto your lower back. “See?” She said, nuzzling the downward curve of her spine. “You’re getting it. Keep going. Try this one here.” She reached around you to point out a sentence at the top of the next page.

You spoke the words awkwardly and slowly, mentally trying to translate the foreign lettering into sounds. Wanda started tracing her way back up your spine, placing gentle kisses along each ridge.

“You’re a lot better at this than you think you are,” Wanda assured. “I could’ve never guessed this was your first semester taking Russian if I wasn’t the one teaching it to you.”

“Thank you, professor,” you teased. “I believe you’re to blame for my accelerated studies.” You could feel Wanda’s smile curl against your back.

“I suppose that is my job,” She teased, “making sure you excel.”

“Well then you’ll be devastated to know I have someone who’s serving as a terrible distraction to my studies.” You smirked, arching your back against her mouth.

“Mmm,” Wanda hummed. “I’m sure whoever it is knows that you work too hard. And I’d bet she knows that you’re brilliant and you could’ve passed with flying colors without even opening the book.”

“As if she herself isn’t known for working herself to the bone,” you retorted.

“All the more reason to provide her with a wonderful distraction.” Wanda bit gently at the spot your neck met your shoulder. You rolled your head back, mouth falling open in a silent groan. “We can continue your studies, if you wish. Repeat after me: YA ves' tvoy.” (I am yours.)

You reached one hand back behind you, burying it in Wanda’s thick brown hair. You drew her ruby red lips back to your neck, encouraging more kisses and nips from the older woman. “YA ves' tvoy,” you repeated with easy confidence. These words came far easier to you than the long and complicated ones you were pulling from your books.

“You speak beautifully, sweet girl.” Wanda sucked at the skin behind your ear.

Your eyes fluttered at sensation.“devochka milaya,” you said. “Sweet girl.”

“Mhm.” Wanda did not pull her mouth away from the soft skin of your neck. Your words weren’t entirely accurate, as the adjective came after the noun in Russian, but she was in no mood to be pedantic at the moment.

She adjusted her position on the bed, moving to straddle your hips rather than lying beside you. You whined when she pulled away, already missing the warm breath against your neck. The whines turned into moans when Wanda ground against her hips your ass. “I want to hear you say it again. Tell me you are mine,” she demanded.

You obeyed. “YA ves' tvoy,” you said again. The words came even more natural the second time around. “I am yours. I am all yours, my love.”

“YA ves' tvoy, moya lyubov,” She translated, adding in the ‘my love’.

You giggled. “Do you plan to fuck me until I can recite the entirety of the Russian language?”

Wanda chuckled mischievously, bending so her mouth was mere inches from your ear. “My love, by the time I’m done with you, you won’t even remember English.”

[http-paprika]

There Was Something Here Once and it lingers in the air

small town au / call of duty x female reader / taglist open / wc 2030 / warnings light swearing / no use of y/n / ship not yet decided / no beta, my grammarly hates me

making a place for herself in aberdeen is not without its struggles, and not without more problems.

She tugged at her light cardigan, glancing over at the fan that sat in the corner of the diner and questioning why they even needed it with how cold it was outside. A blank document sits open on the screen of her laptop, a promise to try to write daily failing miserably as she spent her lunch break away from the small public library. The waitress walks up, refilling her cup of coffee again and glancing at the club sandwich that’d gone untouched before hurrying away to attend to the other patrons. Mostly loggers finishing a shift and grabbing a bite, all dressed in worn down workwear, a contrast to the suits and ties she used to see on her lunch breaks before. 

In the corner of the diner, the doorbell rings as a new customer walks in. She glances down at her keyboard again, willing her hands to move. Hadn’t she been dreaming, talking, and wanting to write this novel since she was a girl? How many years in the making had she been plotting it up through tedious university lectures just for the actual act to be daunting, intimidating her with the idea of failing. 

“Oh, hello again.” The steady voice of the tow truck driver lilts through her ears, she perks her head up to look at Johnny. He’s still in his blue coveralls, but there’s a new, noticeable oil stain on the front pocket. “Never seen you in here before, mind if I join ya?”

“No, yes. I’m sorry, I’m just all over the place today.” She sighs at the admittance as Johnny sits down across from her in the booth. He grins at the waitress when she brings by a menu, greeting him by name. In a small town like this, she was sure it wouldn’t be long before everyone knew her name, and she theirs. Though, names had never been a strong suite of hers. 

“Yeah? What are ya doing on there?” He asks, nodding to her laptop and her face burns in embarrassment. She did not like to talk about her writing, there was something so private about it that opening up was like if she were to be completely exposed in the diner. Mortifying. 

“Work.” 

“Work?” 

“Yeah.” She nods in seriousness, trying to convince him that’s what it is. But Johnny doesn’t look convinced, a grin on his face as he smiles. 

“That’s the same excuse I tell John when I’m sitting on my ass.” He winks at her and that burning from earlier reappears. “Don’t worry, I won’t keep asking. If it’s private, it’s private. But, I am curious, what does a librarian exactly do? It can’t all just be checking in and out books, can it?”

“Well, um,” She blinks, trying to collect herself and find the right answer for her lunch partner. “Stuff.” 

“Stuff?” 

She nods at Johnny, swallowing the realization of how pitiful she is in conversations. Always had been since she was a girl, it made her and her father alike. Much to the disappointment of her mother. 

“I’ll have to come visit soon then and see you do… stuff.” Johnny decides with a boldness in his voice. And when the waitress comes to take his order, she realizes that that’s the way Johnny is. Bold, proud, and bright like the sun. It’s a wonder he chose to stay in this town, should he have spread his wings out anywhere else, he would’ve been a star. 

“Okay.” She says, her voice sheepish and low. A glance at her watch causes panic to hitch as she realizes her lunch break is about to end and she needs to hurry back. “I’m sorry, I hate to be poor company but I have to go.” Fishing through her tote, she sets down enough money for her meal and coffee. She takes another swig of the caffeinated beverage before shoving her laptop back into the bag.

“Don’t worry about it, you do what you need to do.” He assures her with another warm smile, she nods back slowly before the panic hits again, the bell in the nearby church steeple ringing loudly to signal the changing of the hour. 

Out of the diner, across the little square that marks the downtown of Aberdeen, her loafers dig into the muddy grass. Her breath comes out into little huffs as she hurries back into the tiny public library. The door whines on its hinges from the force she applies to yanking it open. She winced in fear that it would fall right off, but it slams behind her causing her to jump out of her skin. Claire, her older coworker, sits at the circulation desk and quirks a brow up at her, the thin-rimmed glasses she always wore perched on her pointed face. There was a similarity to a crow that she couldn’t strike down, the way Claire was always watching from those beady, black eyes left her uneasy. 

“Sorry.” She mutters, bowing her head whilst walking behind the circulation desk to her tiny cubby. It wasn’t much smaller than the one she’d had before, one little plant dying in a plastic pot, the postcard Beau had sent her, and one of those cheese motivational cat posters that a coworker from her last job had given her when she left. There’d never been much to her name, she didn’t have much growing up and never felt the need to want more than she needed. So, besides the boxes of books waiting to be unpacked in her cottage, clutter wasn’t something she acquired. 

“Enjoy your lunch?” Claire asks, walking up to her desk with a box of books from a different library in the same system. It settles on her desk with a thud, and she can feel the heaviness in Claire’s gaze. Her punctuality when it came to time today was not the greatest, first with the car slowing her down and now this. 

“Yes, sorry I was running behind. Today’s just one of those days.” She sheepishly responds, hoping Claire could spare a sliver of sympathy towards her. Hasn't she ever run late before? 

“Mmm.” The elderly woman draws her mouth into a thin line, her hands resting on her bony hips. “Those are the interlibrary loans, they need to be sorted.” 

“Of course. I’ll get to those right away.” She nods, hoping the old crow would leave her alone. 

After giving her a dirty look for long enough, the door to the library opens again and Claire’s attention is quickly drawn away to greet the patron. Grumbling, she opened the box, sifting through the different books. A stack was quickly formed for one patron, and an appreciation formed for someone she didn’t even know. Whoever they were, she was certain that they were responsible for keeping the tiny library open. 

She glances up from the assortment of books, looking over at the circulation desk where Claire was helping a young mother check out various picture books. From the few days she’d worked, the conclusion had been drawn up that only the elderly or young mothers stepped foot inside the stuffy building. She’d yet to see anyone that fit the description of loggers and frowned, they were a key demographic in Aberdeen but couldn’t be bothered to read. Back in the city, she’d done so many outreach programs to try and engage with members of the community that weren’t represented in the library. Perhaps that needed to be done here. 

“Claire?” She asks gingerly, stepping up to the circulation desk once the patron has left. 

Claire glances up at her, carefully pulling off the wired glasses and cleaning them up. “Can I help you?” 

“Well, I was just curious about our patrons.” She wished Rosemary or Clint, the other two people who held positions at this branch, were there for her to speak with. But they were out doing god knows what, and the question continued to persist in her mind. A determination to fix a situation had always been one of the few things she stood out for. 

“What about our patrons?” Claire sets the glasses back on the bridge of her thin nose, evidently not interested in whatever tangent she was about to embark on. 

“Do the loggers not come in very often? I’ve only ever seen one or two.” She says, voicing her thoughts. “Should there not be something done to try and bring more of them in?” 

“That’s not for you to worry about.” The response is sharp, almost painful with how Claire says it. Like somehow she’d suggested a foolish idea, one that would’ve been better never said aloud. “That’s Clint’s job. Focus on your work.” 

Dejected, she nods and returns to her desk, trying hard not to look over at Claire again. The crow had only grown meaner with any interaction she tried to strike up. What she’d done to deserve the reaction was outside of her knowledge. After all, she was a competent enough librarian if nothing else. 

“Do you ever visit the library on your own?” She asks Johnny, sitting in the small office of the auto shop to finally speak with John about her car. A poor attempt to keep herself from worrying about the state of the vehicle, she needed a running one. 

A flush of embarrassment crosses Johnny’s face and thinking back to the conversation they’d briefly had in the diner, the answer is clear. “No, uh, not since I was younger. I’m usually not downtown, don’t even think about it and definitely don’t read as much as I should.” 

She nods, not passing judgment towards his words. It was understandable, so many people tended to neglect the library, not even considering the public service. 

“What would change that?” 

Chewing the inside of her cheek, she tilts her head to watch as he thinks. Johnny fumbles with his hands, trying to decide on an answer that isn’t seen as offensive. She’d asked the question to hundreds of different people in an attempt to connect with the community. No one ever seemed to be able to give her a satisfying answer for change. 

“Well, to put it simply, the car’s fucked.” John states, stepping into the office and running a hand over his mutton chop beard. A hard day of work is visible in his stance, he slouches against the desk as he takes the time to explain the issues the car had. In his words, he was supposed it had run as long as it had with all the underlying issues she’d failed to notice in her haste to pack up and move on. “Probably be cheaper to look at selling it for parts and buying a new, well, used one.” 

She slumps in her chair, trying hard not to bury her face in her hands. Cars were expensive, even used cars. Moving wasn’t cheap either, she’d already spent what little money her grandmother had left her to help with the house note. Where was she going to scrape together the money for any sort of running car? 

“Hey, it’ll be alright,” Johnny tries to console her, putting a hand on her back as she drops her head. “I’m sure something will come around, right John?” 

The older man doesn’t say anything, lost in thought as she mutters to herself over financial stress. Wasn’t moving to Aberdeen supposed to make her life easier? Small town living sounded so idyllic until reality sinks in, problems hit. At least in the city, she had access to buses, even if they weren’t the cleanest and meant waking up much earlier than she would’ve liked to get to work on time. Here, she was reliant on whatever goodwill the people of Aberdeen had. And she wasn’t expecting much more after the grace shown to her that morning. 

“Right, John?” Johnny asks again, looking at his boss with annoyance. 

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” John continues to run his hand over his beard, clearly absent from the conversation at hand. His behavior causes her to finally sit back up and blink, confused as to what exactly was happening. “There might be someone I know who could help your situation.”

[sitp-recs]

Wield Me by @tackytigerfic (E, 10k)

Drarry, pre-Tedrarry

Draco Malfoy, blacksmith, is renowned through the magical world for his skill and exquisite creations. He could quite easily spend the rest of his days making pretty trinkets for the fae court, and being handsomely rewarded for the privilege. But why take the easy route when instead he could get involved in a dangerous mission with Unspeakable Harry Potter (who also happens to be Draco's... well, he's something, isn't he?). A little story about learning to strike while the iron is hot.

“It’s deep magic, you know. It doesn’t recognize anything quite so specific as a particular location. It’s more conceptual, I suppose. You remember.” He knew they did, the long night of casting, Teddy carelessly throwing azaleas and yellow roses into the quench pool along with all the others; azaleas for homesickness and the desire to return to a place of safety, yellow roses for family. Not to mention all the runework they spent hours working on. Draco rolled his eyes at them. Othala. Harry had traced it over and over in the water, and then Draco had hammered the essence of it into the metal with his sweat and his fire. Homecoming. It would be enough.

Because one birthday rec wasn’t enough I am back, this time reccing the fic Tacky gifted me on my last birthday so we’re coming full circle with the love show :D it’s hard to put into words all the feelings this fic inspired in me. I could not believe my sneaky friend (who’s pretty monogamic about their Drarry btw) had crafted something so special bringing together my two OTPs! I remember reading this in a haze, too eager to unravel that delicious summary and get to the promised Teddy kissing, but also not ready for it to be over after 10k and dreading the emotional devastation that was sure to follow. I realize that Harry/Teddy is not everyone’s jam (yet 😏) and might discourage some people to check this out, so I thought I’d follow my previous rec format and list a few reasons why I loved this so much:

1. The world: I kid you not, 10k feels like 30k once you get introduced to this magical world Tacky so masterfully crafted - vibrant, intriguing, creative, a main character in itself. I was already losing my mind over buff blacksmith Draco in a leather tunic (🥵) but then his stance against weaponry and the magical theory behind his forgery?? What an unexpected (but very much welcome) turn on. I am fascinated by this verse and wanna learn all about Draco’s backstory, about this society, its power structure, about Harry and Teddy’s job and the gritty dangers that Teddy is about to face, and whether or not he’ll find his way back home - back to Harry - safe and sound. So many questions left unanswered and this thrill, an adventurous feeling about their quest that kept me engaged until the end. What a masterclass in world building!

2. The tenderness: as per their trademark, Tacky gives this fic a lot of emotional depth and nuance, showing how easily love can multiply when Harry is the recipient (seeing how wanted he is here makes me feral) while keeping this unmistakably a Drarry romance. 40yo fuck buddies who are so obviously into each other they make me giggle and kick my feet, plus a careful balance between all dynamics in play - Teddy’s crush on Harry and respect for Draco, Draco’s longing for Harry and understanding of Teddy, Harry’s trust in Draco and tenderness for Teddy, the overall affection and sexual tension fueling all those relationships making it impossible not to cheer for them. If you’re a Teddy fan like me you’re in for a treat: I adore his edgy personality, bold, brave, painfully young and so damn lovely, a perfect fit for Harry and Draco’s mellow and steady love.

3. The symbolism: this plays into the exquisite lore created within such elegant and contained writing, I just keep thinking about the possibilities, metaphors, the way recurrent themes like family and homecoming show up in Draco’s forgery work intertwining his, Harry’s and Teddy’s lives in such a definitive way you find yourself thinking “well it must be fate so it can’t be avoided, they gotta bang” 🤷🏻‍♀️ okay so maybe not everyone is horny for this triad as I am, but the implications behind the symbology go beyond lust, diving into something deeper and more meaningful like familial love. And because I’ve read everything else from Tacky’s (“Harry deserves roots” / “I’d be your mate” / “I like my choyse” / “Is tú mo Rogha” / “Queen Anne’s lace, it means sanctuary, home.”) and so on, I can’t help but get emotional here. Harry’s longing for a family is such a quintessential Tacky theme and seeing it expand to include my beloved Teddy in their sacred Drarry kingdom makes my heart sing.

TL;DR: I feel like I could spend days talking about this fic but then nobody would read it and I really, really want more people to fall in love with these clever, competent, brave and lovable characters and with the rich, fascinating world that makes you wish you could live inside it forever and see what happens next. So run don’t walk and go treat yourself today!

[clowncaraz]

Coining Misabviriy

original post here.

coined alongside @lunainthemoona

....

Ever since I had joined conversations about transandrophobia, I have never once felt a deep connection to persue the term beyond declaring its existence and supporting those who theorize. I am not someone who is entirely sure that I even felt represented by the term, something to use and something to be used. I did not feel as though it could describe my experiences as someone who was not a man and did not have a connection to manhood outside of how I raised myself.

This disconnect had allowed me to find people who were like-minded in what I had been proposing; a term that refers to the invisibility, malgendering, and feminization of queer masculinity.

It is not the fear and subsequent discrimination of trans men, so it cannot be transandrophobia. It is not the sexism and hatred of trans women, so it cannot be transmisogyny. It is not the prejudice and erasure of nonbinary, intersex, and altersex people, so it is not exorsexism.

I have read work from different places to further aid me in this process of desconstructing what me and a wolfemic transfem have coined — Misabviriy.

Misabviriy, as it is disected, is the hate (mis-) for queer masculinity (ab- for “off” or “away”, viriy for “manhood, masculinity”).

Misabviriy and Superiority

The first point is that masculine individuals are being depicted as superior to women and above in any way as long as one performs the masculinity correctly, which gives incentive for said masculine individuals who are correctly masculine to use said performance in order to get rewarded. Then, because they are doing it correctly, there is the expectation that they must have a prize. If they do not get one, they feel as though they have been lied to and their masculinity is being threatened. Because queermascs are masculine and/or transition to masculinity, there is the assumption that they want said patriarchal power and are able to get it naturally without recoil or a fight.

Misabviriy and Invisibility

Due to the hypervisibility of queerfem individuals by queer media, transphobic outlets, and crude imagery, there is hyperinvisibility in queermascs. The interest in transfem bodies due to their sex traits, and the disinterest in transmasc bodies specifically come from the narrative that because queermascs and transmascs are either confused “little girls” or holding fragile masculinity, transfems and queerfems must be the predatory “grown men” and ugly women type who can’t date fragile mascs. To those following TERFism, queermasc people are hiding their real selves behind masculinity as a way to compensate for failing the patriarchy horribly, and are not the real culprit because they are being “groomed” and tricked into masculinity by being a tomboy or a butch. Said queermasc identity is then questioned until they are either shoved back into the closet, or they stop being masculine.

Misabviriy and Sex

Displays of misabviriy that revolve around sexualizing the sex traits of queermascs have been widely ignored in the community. Masculine intersex people have been told that they were not intersex, and that their masculinity could be changed with corrective rape. Butches get this treatment as well and often due to being lesbians and not being a woman “correctly”. Notable displays of it are with the “cuntboy” depiction where transmascs are reduced to their reproductive system, the “silent protector” type in butchphobia where a butch is deemed useful only in sex and when protectinf femmes, and the mystification of masculine nonbinary bodies when they are not visibly feminine. Queermascs who have vulvas are also expected to bottom in pornography and in relationships, leaving a hole of content and resources when it comes to topping after phalloplasty or with a tdick. In this area, queermascs have higher rates of suicide and the possibility to be sexually assaulted, and yet the only aid a queermasc will get is if they are feminine enough on the outside to hide it. Queermascs are also more likely to detransition or become feminine at the wishes of a cis or trans sexual partner, prioritizing the sexual partner’s pleasure with a sexual “tool” instead of a preference. Testosterone is a common transmasc form of HRT, and yet it is hard to be transsexual as a masc. Testosterone is a controlled substance, and no amount of market work around will help get it any easier for DIY HRT. The lack of queermascs and transmascs on T when they want to makes others believe we are still “women”, that we want to be feminine, and that once we get it we’ll be ugly. Some people, like intersex people with low T, could die without it. And yet, we still do not have it. I am not on T, but have been taking DIY DHEA, and it is because I know that I can only afford and find resources on DHEA.

Misabviriy and Malgendering

As mentioned before, malgendering is when validation of an identity is used only to be against said identity, usually for excusing violence or discrimination. Queermascs, especially transmascs, are positioned between being denied womanhood based on identity and being denied manhood for “choosing” it and doing it wrong. Malgendering is used to scare, to put fear into one for what they may face as the gender they transition to. While not exclusive to transmascs, malgendering is used against transmascs by wishes of harm, calling trans men the “men of the trans community”, and using correct pronouns and terminology to make a joke from said trans person. GNC women who embrace masculinity are targeted the same way, starting with many people using their masculinity as a way to validate their strength, only to use that affirmation to challenge them to a fight since they are “so strong”. It paints their targets as weak fragile women. The idea that queermascs are fragile and tainting their body with masculinity is used by Baeddels, Radfems, and TERFs who target trans men and call anyone else “collateral damage" for being in the way. In queer spaces, wolffian mascs and anyone who is remotely masculine regardless of gender are seen as dangerous because their ties to masculinity means that they apparently operate under the patriarchy and work for it. Queermascs, especially those who are trans men and intersex people, are more likely to be denied life saving treatments and gynaecologists due to their identity, and this denial can lead to death.

Misabviriy and Feminization

Queermascs such as masculine nonbinary people and butches have always been feminized by the outside world as a way to quell the disgust or discomfort with them being masculine. Separation of masculinity from their queer identity is a common occurrence in communities that are supposed to aid them in being who they are. As said before, queermasculinity and those who are of it are seen as confused little girls (the basis for ROGD) and predatory men due to their connection to masculinity that is “wrong”. Because of this, not only are queermascs the victim when first transitioning but are predators lurking to lure transness into innocent girls when they are post-transition and confident. From inside the community, many butches have faced being left out of media and out of the narrative when it came to lesbianism as they were slowly turned into guard dogs and sexual pleasure — focusing heavily on how a butch is “still a woman”, and the joke of “forgetting the bookbag” that is overused. Depictions of masculine women and queermascs are always in a way where their physical features “prove” them to be not actually masculine and that they are pretending to be masculine. Queermascs have also reported feeling extremely left out and lost in inclusive spaces that actively call out queer masculinity alongside patriarchal masculinity while uplifting patriarchal femininity that wishes to benefit from the patriarchy by pulling women and queer men down into terms like TIF, female brained, “woman bits”, and fake feminism that relies on bioessentialism (TME, TMA..) and gender wars (they ultimately do not earn benefits due to misogyny)

[imagineagreatadventure]

soooo i am not handling getting my period and the news my mom has xx amount of months to live at the same time very well

[autisticlee]

"just be yourself" has always been one of my most hated things to hear from someone. it may sound simple and easy to you, but when you grew up never able formed a single solid personality (because you grew up autistic or for some other reason) and/or have always felt more like 20 different personalities in a trench coat who fight over who is supposed to be in charge, that "simple" advice is so much less simple.....it can even seem impossible.

[luck-of-the-drawings]

DOODLEPAGE COMMISSION CREATED FOR THE WONDERFUL @reallybelt do YOU want me to draw you a doodlepage of your blorbo? im still doing commissions!! more information here. cmon down!! get em before the 15th when they put me down witha really big hammer

[front-facing-pokemon]

[loumauve]

the goddamn toast water post just made me utter "history is fucking real" in the most solemn and serious tone of voice, out loud, to myself, in the goddamn bathtub

[no27-autonation-honda]

not to be a colossal fucking cowabummer about everything but it really does suck that like. my really chill and like. supposedly more realistic type of career goal feels about as unattainable as like a kid saying he wants to be a singer or something

[mitamicah]

.

[bosspigeon]

man i wish i could draw comics i had such a good idea for a rly good character backstory one for Moss

[dandyshucks]

ppl complain about ~The Community~™ a lot but genuinely I have never rly had people support me and my art and creations as much as I have in this place fhfkdl like I keep getting almost scared by how nice everyone has been DBFJDL

i think maybe the community at large is difficult to be a part of and has issues but I feel like if you just find a nice circle of mutuals and friends to stay in (while maybe occasionally venturing outside of if thats smth u want to do) then like... things are good actually. i am constantly amazed by the support ppl show to each other in this circle I've found myself in !!!

all this to say: i am so glad i found my way here !!!

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[odetolovers]

i’m losing it

[deathtodickens]

This animation class is kicking my ass but I made a dancing llama and that is all that matters.