#I have to set boundaries

[spacebubblehomebase]

Love your art!I Know what it feels like to be an artist I'm one myself and let me tell you its hard,because everyone says your art look good but when you stare at it to long all you can see are the flaws

Haha! The way I feel this in my SOUL, but ty.

It's exactly because of this that I regret to inform everyone that due to demand, I am only able to answer a handful of Asks at a time between updates for my AU. It's the only way I could keep up between posting schedules and my real life commitments. Rest assured, I'll continue to read them all even if I'm not be able to answer them at the time. Still, there's always a possibility that I would do so in the future, so don't be afraid to send them my way and let me know how you guys feel about my work! Art really is a tough passion to pursue, but having you all enjoy them makes the hours I question if it's even worth it, well... worth it and I'm grateful for everyone's patience with me so far! TvT

-Bubbly💙

[inkskinned]

there are a lot of posts out there that are positive and healthy coping mechanisms for handling the holidays. this is not one of them :)

i think there's like. going to be times in your life you will be stuck in a social situation that you cannot escape from gracefully. i do not know why the internet doesn't believe these times exist. it's not always just that your physical safety is at risk - sometimes it's legit like "i just don't currently have the energy or time to put in the effort of responding to this." sometimes it's a coworker you hate so much. sometimes it's just like, fine, you know? like you know you can handle your aunt when she's cheerily horrible, but if you actually set a boundary around her, it's going to be weeks of fallout with your father.

i don't know why people think the answer is always just "cut them out!" or "don't let them get away with that!" because ... the real world is tricky and complicated. i think kind of a lot of us have an internal "radiation poisoning" meter for certain people. like - i'm talking about the ones who are absolutely giving you gradual ick damage. like, you can handle them, but you'll be exhausted.

and yes. you absolutely should listen to your therapist and the good posts about handling others and set good boundaries and take care of yourself. prioritize peace.

HOWEVER :) ...... since im often in a situation with a Gradual Sense of Ick person i cannot just "cut out" of my life (without losing someone else precious to me) - i have sort of developed the most. maladaptive form of mischief possible. because like, if i'm going to have to listen to this shit again, i like to have a little bit of private fun with it.

now! again, i am physically safe, just mentally drained by this man. you should only do this with people you are not in danger with. which leads me to my suggestions for when your Unfortunate Acquaintance shows up and says oh everyone pay attention to me.

my favorite word is "maybe!" said as brightly and happily as possible. whenever the Horrible Person starts in on a topic you do not want to go further with, particularly if they make a claim that you know to be inaccurate, do not respond to it. you and i have both tried to actually argue with this person, and it hasn't gone well, because this person just wants the drama of an argument. however, "maybe!" gives them literally nothing to go on. it is incredibly disarming. they are used to people having some response. they know they can't prove what they're saying, and maybe! treats them like the child they are. it dismisses them in the politest way possible.

i like to say maybe! and then, in their stunned silence, immediately change the subject. this is because i have adhd and i will have something unrelated to talk about, but if you can't think of topics fast enough, i recommend just pointing to something and saying, "isn't that lovely?" because fuck you let's bring in some positivity.

by the way. that second trick - of pointing to something and stating an opinion about it? - that just works on its own, like, 70% of the time. i picked it up from teaching preschoolers. it's an intentional "redirect". it stops children crying and it also stops grown adults from finishing their explanation on why women belong in kitchens. dual wielding!

keep it silly for yourself. i absolutely do not care if people think i'm fucking stupid (it's more fun if they do) and as a result i will purposefully misunderstand things just to see how long it takes them to realize i've completely removed them from the subject at hand. when they say "women aren't funny" i get to be like. "which women." "all women." "all women in america?" "no in the world." "like the mole people? the people in the world?" "what? no. like, alive." "oh are we not counting the mole people?" "what the fuck are you talking about." "you don't believe in the mole people?"

similarly, i play a personal game called "one up me." my Evil Acquaintance literally knows this game exists (my family & friends caught onto it and now also play it) and it always fucking gets him. i don't know why. you have to be willing to be a little free-spirited on this one, though. the trick is that when they make one of those horrible little bigoted or annoying comments they are always making, you need to go one unit weirder. not more intense, mind you - just more weird. "you don't look good in that dress." "yeah, actually, my other dress was covered in squid ink due to a mishap at the soup store." "you shouldn't wear such revealing clothes." "wait, what? oh shit. sorry, your son tears off strips when no one is looking and eats them. i swear it was longer before we left the building."

the point of "one up me" is to completely upend this person's narrative. we both know this person likes setting up situations where you cannot "win" and then they really like telling other people how badly you handled it. in a usual situation, if you respond "please don't say something that rude", you're a bitch. but if you let it happen, you're letting yourself be debased. they are not usually expecting door number three: unflappably odd. because what are they going to say when they're telling everyone how badly you behaved? "she said my son eats her dresses" ".... okay?"

if you can, form an allyship with someone whomst you can tagteam with. where they can pick up on your weird "soup store" story and run with it.

the following phrase is amazing and can be deployed for any situation: "oh, be nice :) it's the holidays!" i do not know why this works as often as it does. i'll say it for the most random shit. i think this is bc most of the time these people know they're being impolite, they just like to fight.

godbless. when in doubt, remember that you could always start stealing their pens.

the whole point of this is - if you can't escape. maybe see how long you can just be. like. a horrible little menace.

[sysig]

Chewtoy (Patreon)

[revelisms]

Lil' comic of a scene from a fic I haven't gotten around to writing.

(basically Vi and Jinx have reconciled, Silco is alive, and Vi is begrudingly finding herself beginning to look up Silco as a mentor/father figure. She accompanies him on an errand run, one of which winds them up at the old cannery, and emotions bubble up biiig time 🥲)

[chaosisorderao3]

Me: "I think Jews shouldn't be murdered actually. I also think Palestinians shouldnt be murdered and this whole thing is fucked up"

Goy: "omg you're so Islamophobic you should be appalled with yourself never talk to me again"

[kittarts]

What kind of comments do you get that discourages you from drawing Wybie shirtless?

Nsfw comments. People are allowed to find the characters I draw attractive, but I’m not going to encourage that demographic, not since 2018 when I was primarily an nsfw artist who thought it was fun.

Shirtless YB is not something I want to draw at all, nor is it required to show off his tattoos — tattoos are the last thing people would be focusing and commenting on, and that’s the last thing I want to deal with.

Please stop requesting it.

[bread-wizards]

Love Laudna wanting Orym to be the one to cut her down if need be because she feels he can make hard choices, and Travis like "uh hello? What about Chetney? You want to put Orym through that anguish? I am right here" like damn, he right tho

[marsabillions]

if i see one more post like this “rosekiller isn’t toxic” or “i just cant see bartylus as toxic” im casting u all out to snore island bc ur putting me to sleep

[belllllove]

[fatalism-and-villainy]

Lot of talk about Margot dressing in the style of wrap dresses that Alana used to wear in season 3, and about the scene where Alana helps her get dressed, and I'm going to take that another step forward and propose "Alana and Margot having a questionably negotiated D/s dynamic where Alana chooses all of Margot's clothes and styling, Vertigo-style, and specifically shapes her to be the visual reflection of Alana's former self"

[inkskinned]

something bad happened to you, and you died, and you came back wrong.

not wrong all the way. the little ways. you forget important dates, stopped going out with friends. it's harder to make you smile. you're apathetic towards things you used to love, afraid of places you used to go to cheer up. quieter. flinching. different.

you came back for love. you're still here for love. what pulled you back was a brightness so loud that even death couldn't outshout it. death heard the call and smiled at you and said okay. go home. somebody is waiting for you.

but you came back different. like lot's wife; you've turned into salt. you used to chirp through life in hops and skips; but now you lose skin just standing up. you have to move slower, skimming across this world without-touching-it. most things feel dull - until they're suddenly all-too-much. life, and being alive just rushes up and over you and you get hopelessly crushed.

you try to explain it to them: it is ugly, but this is what you are, now. the huge golden hoop of your halo now a little bronze ring. you are still watering your plants and wearing the same clothes. after all, you worked hard to come home. this life; so odd and off-color, now that you are wrong.

but they waited for you - it's just that they wanted the "you" that happened before this. the "you" that could sing in the show and hug people tight and look at a blade without breaking down to cry. the you with a smile in pictures. god, holyshit, it's like looking at a completely different person, isn't it. that other-you; the one they actually wanted.

you are the consolation prize. you are the body that forgot the ghost. you are the memory of the bad thing, and the death after; like you are wearing that memory as a banner. you are a fragment, an assembly. simulacrum. you don't make eye contact in mirrors, afraid the light will glance off and your true nature will flash back at you.

you hear them talk about it in their hushed, desperate whispers. sometimes they even admit it to your face; harsh and violent, acid thrown at christmas dinner. god, can you just fucking be normal again. you do not remember what normal is. you had to climb so far to get back here; you are far too exhausted. you want to open the glass door of your heart and show all the gears. can you help resolve whatever got messed up?

you try so, so hard. you came back for them. because you believed they would love you, even when you were so horribly broken. because you believed they would be patient. because you believed unconditional meant "without exception." you cannot do things the same way. you just get tired too quickly these days.

you want to put them on a couch and pour them the tea with hands that shake more than they remember. you want to line them up and draw them a map of where you have had to wander. you want to show every bruise in a backsplash; the little helpless ant of your soul carrying all that weight, over and over. you want to say: yes! it is different! but i did it for love!

you want to say: "i'm not the same, but i'm yours and i'm here. can that be enough?"

[etherealacademia]

going to high school was harder than my entire undergraduate degree at a top university. i'm starting my master's degree in a month and i bet I'll be able to say that high school was more difficult. i don't know how i survived that environment

[pearlcaddy]

pearlcaddy's 2023 follower celebration ♡ free choice

lockwood & co. 1.02 flare scene ↳ for @youareiron-andyouarestrong

[knifearo]

everybody! quick! tell me what aro joy means to you <2

[thetarttfuldickhead]

A week or two after the Dubai Air protest Sam happens upon Jamie lounging listlessly on a bench in the otherwise deserted gym. He’s not doing any exercise, just sitting there and staring out into nothingness with a curiously vacant look on his face.

Sam hesitates, hovering in the doorway. He’s come for a little bit of extra weights before heading home, and he hadn’t expected anyone to be here this late, least of all Jamie. It’s been a long day and Sam’s not sure if he’s up for dealing with the (possibly) reformed bully right now. Even if they are edging towards friendly, and even if that’s no small thing given what’s come between them before, there’s still an undercurrent of charged uncertainty to their interactions, a stilted hesitancy to their cautious politeness and careful attempts at casual camaraderie.

Jamie hasn’t explicitly told Sam that he’s sorry for the things he’s put him through. Sam has decided that he will not let his decision to give Jamie another chance be contingent upon this. It’s very tiring, being angry and resentful of the other’s presence: so much easier to accept the taped up logo for the peace offering it was, and let that be Jamie’s apology.

(If it rankles, it only rankles a little.)

Reminding himself of his decision to let bygones be bygones, and that they won’t ever get anywhere if they don’t actually learn to talk, Sam steps into the gym. Asks as he would any other glum-looking team mate he’d unexpectedly happened upon, “Are you all right, Jamie?”

Holds himself ready, holds himself steady, if Jamie should bare his teeth and bite, now that there’s no one around to see it.

But Jamie only starts a little, like he hadn’t noticed Sam or he’s surprised to be voluntarily addressed. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m good, man. Great, you know. It’s just… I’m a bit tired, I guess.“ He pauses, then his face suddenly collapses and he gives Sam the most plaintive of looks. “It’s just so fucking exhausting being nice all the time. I don’t know how you do it, mate.”

Ah. Sam tactfully doesn’t say that it’s usually no effort for him and that he doesn’t really understand how it could possible come that hard for anyone.

He also doesn’t point out that not actively being mean to people isn’t quite the same as being nice.

Because Jamie is trying, isn’t he, even if it’s painfully evident that he still needs to try, that it doesn’t come quite naturally.  

“Bit like when Spike had that chip in his head and had no choice but to team up with the good guys, isn’t it?” Colin had muttered a few days after their wayward striker had re-joined them, and yes, Sam had had to agree: it is a bit like that.

But there’s no chip in Jamie’s head (Sam is pretty sure). He’s here of his own free will, trying to be a good team mate and a better person because he wants to be. That has to count for something, doesn’t it?

Sam is pretty sure his dad would say it does. Sam wants to be the sort of person that lets it count.

And Jamie is looking genuinely dejected, in a way that has Sam feel a small surge of something that isn’t affection but isn’t too unlike it either. A little bit of pity mingling with amusement; enough that he’s moved to brave sitting down next to Jamie.

“Well, I have had more practise,” he says lightly. “I bet you will be really good at it if you give it a bit more time.”

“Yeah?” It’s offered casually, but there’s no disguising the faint hope in it. Sam can feel Jamie watching him out of the corner of his eye.

“Of course,” he says, and then, feeling bold, “You are Jamie Tartt. Aren’t you good at everything?”

A pause, and Sam holds his breath, praying that Jamie will understand that he’s being teased rather than mocked—

Then Jamie snorts, a sound halfway to a chuckle. “Yeah, man,” he retorts, bumping his shoulder against Sam’s, very carefully. “I’ll be the fucking best at being nice. Swear down, I’ll be so good I make you look like Geezer Scrooge.”

“That, I’d like to see,” Sam says drily; says sincerely. Standing, he nods towards the weight bench. “Do you think you can be good enough not to let me be crushed to death while you spot me?”

For a moment, Jamie looks taken aback, and Sam braces himself for a snide retort to his presumption – but it doesn’t come. Instead Jaime’s face clears, and he gives a sharp nod.

“Course, mate,” he says, and rises to follow Sam.

[jesncin]

Boundaries!!

Okay since I've been messaged across my soc med accounts at this point, I think I should make this boundary clear. Remember that even though you're getting to know me through my interests and art, that I'm still a stranger on the internet! I'm especially aware as a 30 yr old author that I'm in a space (fandom) with mostly people younger than me, so I have to be responsible with how I interact with people.

Please don't overshare personal information with strangers online unprompted. That's really dangerous! This isn't the same as people opening up to me because they connected with my stories or art, I'm extremely humbled to be trusted with those experiences. It's when people get overly familiar with me and are having an idealized excitement talking to me as a creator. I like being friendly and I cherish the friends I've made in fandom, but I still keep boundaries in the sense that I don't know any of you personally. I'm extremely private too. I know when something parasocial is going on.

This has been happening a bit (in the DMs) and I would hate to end up blocking people who enjoy my art just because they got overly excited interacting with me. I am not equipped to deal with the personal life of strangers. Please be careful out there.