#I've been at a point where my art is almost always positively received by myself

[elitewakefulwoodland]

Absolutely SPOILING 15 yo me with art of snoipah

[blackberryblueberry]

H, 7th meeting

H met me at the theatre. My friend A was there. She'd been announcing that she was sober, but her hands were shaking as she offered us Haribo gummy bears. I've seen relapses, and the way a person would try to conceal them, betting on your obliviousness. She was alone; her boyfriend, whom I'd encouraged her to leave, was spending the evening with his ex-girlfriend. The doors opened and H and I sat together and watched two pre-revolution films by Kiarostami; his first feature film, Experience, and an interview-format documentary called First Case, Second Case. Before Experience, the programmer screened a video that he'd received from the writer of the film, a sweet and enthusiastic message of gratitude. Before screening First Case, Second Case, the programmer showed us a slide show of the people interviewed in the documentary, and listed where they'd gone to school (always some Western liberal arts institution) and what role they eventually played in Iran after the 1979 revolution. Some of them became influential, brutal, and oppressive state actors after the revolution. But while watching the documentary, you couldn't sniff out the future brutality. Everyone sounded conscientious and idealistic.

After the film, we said goodbye to A, and then got Turkish food, and then took the S-bahn home. We took some selfies on the train. Selfies could never quite capture how attractive I thought H was. We'd caught a train that ran on a ring outer to the one we needed, so we transferred at one point, and then I mused that if we'd rode the train one more stop, we could have gotten off near Treptower Park and walked. H was struck with disappointment. "I would have really enjoyed that walk," he said. He fell silent, lost in regret.

The walk we eventually made crossed over the Spree, and was a walk I didn't mind. It was late when we got home and I was very tired, but I had made up my mind to have sex with him because I'd canceled on him rudely the night before. "I want you to talk to me," I said, while under him. "Disrespect me. Tell me I'm not good for anything except sex." I wanted to work out the frustrations I had the past week, feeling like a failure and a doormat, feeling like I'd lost control of my own time, hadn't done what I'd come here to do and ended up pulled in many directions by many different people.

H obliged. "You're not good for anything except getting fucked," he said. "And that's what I'm going to do--come around whenever I want to and fuck you and you're going to be waiting with your collar on, and your collar is going to have a little H on it to signal that you're mine."

"I'll be sitting at home waiting, doing nothing but waiting," I said, gasping. It was a release to say this aloud, to be naming that thing I hated while someone was aggressively fucking me.

I got on top of him and rode him slowly, almost as a break for myself, but also to relax into something more sensual and stimulating. H was moaning. "Here you were saying you don't ride dick but you do it so well," he said. After he said that I adjusted my position and tried to do what I thought was "riding dick" in my head-- to be more upright and move on the dick faster. But H said, "It felt good what you were doing. Do what feels good for you," and I came back down, slowed down again, brought my face and body closer to his. It was interesting that he'd noticed; I was turned on by him telling me to do what felt good for me because it also felt good for him.

H's command of English wasn't perfect and sometimes I had to wince my way through the things he'd say. "I'll fuck you very well," he said once, and had me composing a tweet in my head. But at one point he said, "You came to Berlin to find yourself, and you've found out you're only good for this" and I immediately started coughing. I threw my hands up, waving it all away. "Oh God," I said. "Sorry. Um. I can't." My constant existential crisis, exposed--too real. I pushed him out of me and lay on my side in the fetal position, cringing but laughing to myself.

Sex with H was only getting better. He was very careful around my need for breaks, and I trusted him. So I was free to make it more obvious that I was hungry for his aggression. He topped me and pretzeled my legs, and later fucked me while I lay on my stomach, with his hands pressing my lower back into the bed and angling up my ass. I used up the leftover water-based lube that H had bought previously and we went until I dried up from simply being too tired. H obeyed as soon as I asked him to stop. I hadn't come. He masturbated as I played with his nipples. He came all over the both of us and also on the sheets. By the time we showered, it was past 3am, and we were both dismayed. I pointed at the cum stains on the sheets and asked, "Are you okay with sleeping with cum on the sheets?"

"Yes, but let's change it because you're not," H said. I realized how indirect I'd been. I could have just said, "I don't want to sleep with your cum on the sheets" or even earlier told H not to take the condom off.

So H helped me change the sheets, and then we went to sleep.

The next morning we lazed in bed for a bit, even though I thought perhaps I should ask him to go so that I could have time to myself. But when H actually announced he was leaving, I grew moody, because I didn't want him to go. And I went, "Is this just sexual?"

H grew frustrated. He sat down on a chair and said, "I thought this was resolved. Why are you bringing this up again?"

"Why are you getting mad?"

"Because we talked about this already, but somehow the issue isn't closed."

"I need to talk about it again."

I didn't really know what I was trying to say. Only that I felt bad. I felt unfulfilled. I wanted someone who would stay in bed with me and we could tell each other that we loved one another. I didn't want a relationship, but my little bird brain wanted love. "I need to know how you feel about me. It feels bad that we don't talk about feelings."

"So you want me to tell you I love you and say this kind of shit?"

I grew tearful. I avoided. "Well, I don't know the difference between like and love..."

"Yes, that's true, it's a spectrum. Why do you even want that? You're only here for a few weeks."

"I know," I said hastily. "That's why I'm with you. Because I made that calculation." But I should have said, "Don't tell me what I should want."

An honest answer could have been, yes, I do want love. I want to fall in love and be in love. I've wanted this for months. I struggled to find the words, and H said, "Speak your mind!" And I produced this answer: "I'm unhappy because things aren't the same between us; you have an emotionally committed relationship and I don't; I have a desire for partnership and an emotional connection that I can't release. And I want to release it."

It was a "correct" answer--the type I make when I'm uncomfortable--but it wasn't a totally dishonest answer. It was true; I both wanted to fall in love and also didn't believe it was right to fall in love with H, who lived on another continent and was already in a serious and committed relationship. But perhaps in the moment I did want H to stay in bed with me and to simulate for me that loving romantic partnership, because it'd feel good. It'd lull me to sleep. I don't like saying goodbye. I don't like to be left alone.

I like being alone. Just not being left alone. Alone is always fine; it's often better. But the moment of leave-taking is always unhappy.

"I think you're good," H said. He hugged me tightly. "Let my body tell you how I feel about you." It sounded like a cop-out. But unlike with A, with whom it was impossible to talk, H not meeting my emotional needs made it easier for me to emotionally detach. His hug made me feel better, and when he left I felt all right.

[hybrid-lion]

Lion Daydreams Journal

2-3-21 / 2-5-21

OR

Succulent witch jokes and DnD cheatcodes

Musing on perpetual journey and points of processing certain themes..

Four days prior exiting Hedgewitch Hollow (more on that later) from my abusor(s), at @ the hospital and other musings

 Curbside outside familiar building, looking something like a cross between between the rite aid/CVS in West Emoryville I saw in 2011 this one time and and outside heron pond plaza from tripjoy advantage in New Hampshire.

 Present was a Sedan with big extra Star Wars wrap all over it- specifically Rebel Alliance logo on hood.

 Don't fall for the nurse; they're always immensely humane and kind and working; not to be your fixation (I've gathered this for a while too, though as the derivative term goes, "What a Catch.."

  Anyway Fallout girl/nursing tech (With the magnificent taste in communication skills and tattooage whom was without a doubt better at putting up with my roundabout chittering than I even am (which states a bountiful amount of patience in her own rights and also that I need to work on alloying others more time to have the proverbial talking stick in dialogues), whom I had chatted with the day prior for a while regarding the matter of the vibrational level on this conscious and graceful hostess; (That's the planet we are graced with being able to provide for in turn), with with the rose and sun moon tatts, was present in this dream sequence, as short lived as the scene was. 

 Clearly taking a journey. Capable technical reasoner boi was there as well who cannot even understand where that's at at all definetly was also present in this one.

Clearly journey symbolism, as I was approaching the vehicle in question. 

2-5-21

 "WHY IS THERE BRINE IN THE ORANGE JUICE"

Walking around downtown burning time between returning from securing a temporary order/petition to court and grabbing dinner, I was between looking at the lines in leaves and patterns in the puddles near an underpass when it occured to me regarding my subjectiviteas this far:

   Almost anybody would be able to tell you that there's more than one way to skin a cat as well as probably one of the worst things you can do is box with an apex creature, specifically one that most dungeon Masters wod probably have on the back burner as a sort of endgame accomplishment that would either make or break the parties resolve to complete that leg of their long arduous campaign; or correctly enough the kind of boss fight that one would face in an old RPG that then unlocks a potential ally to the party whom would essentially have the capacity to either RUIN EVERYTHING, knock something off a really high shelf at the appropriate time, or just absolutely love you to death in the dirt merely depending on the way you decided to associate prior and subsequently accounted for).

   This I would assume so boldly is primarily due to the nature of such back burner endgame beings, as well as with all things considered that it is most likely cognitive of it's own journey as well to some extent and that it has retained all the EXP of both that, along with some of the experiences said party would have had by that point, again considering stuff and things.

--

I digress from the point- but we're getting there.

--

So 'boxing'; i.e. showboating or perhaps just putting up and making the most of the situation pertaining to that proverbial beastie the DMs sent around the way-- 

Noting that at that point to some fair extent isn't quite OP persay, but had maintained a good enough vantage for some time that it had or has more than enough capacity for adapting, recanting it's own skills based in experience as it do/what have you, as well as subsequently recognizing that somewhere along the way said party or perhaps their questgivers or guild leads decided to not entirely tell said prior and then the party at hand- what have you- 

  they would then be either in the same raid/map/party/team as it already, but still decided it would mostly likely do well to or behoove them to, and said prior backburner beastie to just go proverbially or metaphorically corner it; and subsequently snare or root or web or whatever their skillset would do; then dragged it off to have a dialogue with it about or pertaining to..

..something sort of akin to poking it awake with a slow burning brand, 

 But only after years of putting it on display without its consent or knowledge.

   This is probably one of the worst things you can do for either yourself or anybody else, regardless of the lens of which it exists in, without having prior and then post poking explaining it.

  Especially considering the nature of some endgame beasties and the capacity for critical analysis.

  If you had a support tank, that didn't know it was a support tank, and you left it out in the rain for like, ever, do you think a little K, Y Jelly and some WD40z to Freedom would constitute a thoroughly squeezed explanation of this scenario to that support tank?

 Depends on the tank and some stuff and things probably.

~~~

  All things considered…

I take it back the brine is fine but the synaptic firings of my brain giving me a first class ticket to Stockholm's I could do with more of for sure, but I'd rather just hang in the Catskillz and make art about 

===

This lens of comprehension on dealing with what to not allow to occur to a raid party would have been monumentally helpful for me subsequently years ago years ago.

   This would been subsequently helpful for me in decision-making, free will, yes, and choice-based processes of course as humans go.

   And if in when the case arose that I had to tell my younger self, "Hey don't put yourself on display or get worked up, but hang in and also read this book in full before walking out to the tarmac or at least in between flights to and from, don't act the fool for the sake of a fool, unless you need to act to fool forreal forreal. Just leave that shit in the sand, dig a foxhole for it if you have to, or bring it sooner maybe?

 

 

  Don't let other people harsh thine proverbial mellow and as it would only fuel their trashcan fire of excusable accounts as to why they allotted a random roaming low level beastie to accumulate that much of an exp grind crunching on bones and jellies and some mimics that don't even, without alluding thoroughly so that they wouldn't act a fool at the loss or sacrifice of someone else's journey as well as their own. 

 At that point, you should have just pulled the support tank aside and been like-

*Mumbles*  

 listen, "you are our favorite dumb dumb juice supersoaker palindrone cat, just saiyan"...

we just want/wanted to sap and then sac your last floating stackable �� for the raid that pulled it along on a chain that long for display and experience just to see how it would go like, IDK it'll work out either way but like we could probably use a dumpster fire and we hear you're full of shit, but also the ship is intact and just needs a happy tree friend sometimes so like, knowing the support tank is going to anyway because of its back story… 

~^•=•^

Uhm.

 *TAKES DEEP BREATH*

~=^•Î||I•^=~. •°•°{"UNACCEPTABLE CONDITIONS" 

*TAKES DEEP BREATH*

~^•=•^~

 "we deserve better and also some stuff you left in my backpack over here oh wait what's that accounted for oh okay here a random distracting smoke grenade quick make your escape.*

 🍊  🍃

---

In retrospect-- this would have been monumentally helpful years ago, as would have keeping the deck of playing cards I received years ago with me, my towel, journal and probably better time management skills and also understanding the concepts of the journey of oneself as both the lessons of our priors on the road and with us as we continue.

  I will continue to explain why this could have to explain this to myself in dreaded prose. 

Preferably after I come to terms with the huntresses and chieftainesses and the shield maidens who keep attempting to bait and no scope my ass when they can't even decide if they want to be a volva a shield maiden again or a valkyrie or a witch of the wild blue yonder or all like 20 at the same time; but are getting fond of kiting me around with salt rounds and rubber bullets and genuine uncondition positive regard despite both of our sanity and interests even though it ain't nobody's goddamn business how baby treat me.

 Anyway if you see a random roving ** monster on the map assume it has your best interest at heart or if it's in your teahouse just do yew fam, most likely it's just stopping in for coffee or orange juice or the finest proverbial trashcan fires to warm up aside this side of the milky way.

 Also try not to forget to set a reminder to wake up at an appropriate time, and don't forget to to carry on and through and keep up with your affirmations and random google searches for sigils you have no understanding of and show love to all your complex houseplants and rock's needs balanced with your own.

 Also don't worry about eating carbs late at night before bed. We can burn them off when we're running through each other's minds. 

More in all that later though in detail.

 

*Switches to sleepytime mode, proceeds to cleans whiskers and thanks you for coming to it's shed talk.* 

[almightytallestvoldy]

Aaaaand it seems I didn’t upload Voldemort’s birthday picture from last year either.

“So here we are again. Another new year, and another New Year’s Eve spent celebrating Voldemort’s birthday for me. It’s one of three times in the year (now instead of two, but we’re yet to see the fruit of that labor) where I FORCE myself to make absolutely SURE that I do a piece of art. When I started thinking about what I wanted to do for this year’s picture, I remembered the one major Harry Potter (Voldemort specific, actually) event that took place this year; Harry Potter ALBUS POTTER and the Cursed Child.

(Skip the Italics rant to get on to the art description)

While I have no idea if the general populous even accepts that entry as canon, particularly because of some literally IMPOSSIBLE things in it, and I myself found a great deal of anger and disappointment in the installment, there were a few shining points of wonder and glory, one of those being, imo, our new addition, Delphini Diggory RIDDLE. This is one of those things I’m referring to. There is NO WAY she could exist, at least as stated. No one was aware of her existence, despite the fact that she was apparently born in Draco Malfoy’s house and to his aunt Bellatrix. You’d think that’d have been a detail that would’ve been mentioned when Harry, Ron, and Hermione were captured and in the Malfoy Manor, or, you know, something Draco would’ve known about. So there is no way that’s a true thing. But one thing that definitely comes to mind is the fact that Delphi herself didn’t even know of her own heritage, and didn’t find out until Rudolphus Lestrange somehow managed to get the information to her. Personally I believe it was a final act of loyalty to Voldemort to make sure his child knew her background, and a final act of loyalty to his wife to make that child believe she was Bella’s. I have serious doubts that Voldemort would ever mix his genes with anyone so annoying or mentally unstable. I’d have to see some serious explanations and background of the build up or whatever before I’d buy that noise. But all the same, I love Delphi. I love her sooooooooo much. She, Albus, and Scorpius were the only good things about that toilet paper roll they called an official next installment. I love her for multiple reasons. First and foremost, she validates even the possibility of my own OC’s existence. Secondly, she’s almost an exact carbon copy of her. Delphi is certainly more unstable (which would be the only thing that would make me believe that she’s Bella’s), but that aside, their motivation and behavior are pretty much identical. Delphi’s speech towards the end of the book was almost word for word something that my Vivian had said in various RPs and fanfics. It’s hard not to love a character that I have both already gotten attached to through my own writings, and that puts egg on everyone’s face that ever made fun of me for my idea. Yeah, it’s still a pretty Mary-Sue-ish idea, but now it’s a CANONICAL Mary-Sue-ish idea. I’d like an apology from all those people that judged it so viciously, thank you very much. I’ll pass out numbers, and then you can all line up and I’ll call you to the desk.

ANYWAYS, my heart goes out to Delphi, almost as much as it does to Voldemort himself. She just wanted to know her father, who’s known no earthly love or affection that we’ve ever been privy to. She, too, has spent her life alone and neglected. She was raised in such a way that I know would absolutely enrage Voldemort. She never even went to Hogwarts! She was robbed of the experience he treasured above all others! Of social interaction! Of a standardized, varied education! It’s just the ongoing injustice of the Riddle family. And then they had to go and have her kill somebody and vilify her, too, when this could’ve been a chance for redemption after the massive negligence from virtually every character in the series. Seriously, I could argue a case for everyone, don’t get me started.

So basically now that I’ve got that off my chest, I’ll get back to the actual art. For a while, I considered doing a picture of just Voldemort and Delphi. I wanted to grant them both some respite from their cursed lives. Like, if in just one universe, somewhere out there (which is to say, my cathartic art), that they could be together, and on Voldemort’s birthday, I just thought that would be great. But why even stop there? If I’m talking about my own universe that I have created (now along with @blissomquisling as well), why not include my own OC, who just gained a sister? Or her mother for that matter? Well, the simple answer is that I could think of no reason why not. It seemed wholly appropriate for an updated family photo.

Without further ado:

Left: Delphi. I used the only picture of her that seems to exist for reference: https://goo.gl/images/6CTKAf I tried to make her seem very content at realizing her fondest ambition.

Top-Center: Vivian. Anyone who’s followed me closely for years will recognize my second oldest OC. She’s positively delighted for this influx of family that all love her father. It’d just been her and Nagini for so long. Obviously their ages don’t actually reflect well together. Delphi was apparently born some time in 1998, while (default) Vivian was born in 1980.

Center: I don’t think I really need to say who that is. He’s really having a hard time processing all of this positive attention. But HE was the one foolish enough to believe he could get away with sitting alone on a LOVEseat in a room full of people who LOVE him. Come on, tho, really … He kinda likes it.

Back: Nagaini, of course. You know, I never remember a very clear description of her, other than a massive snake. I wanted her to look real, but not plain, so … greyscale python? Yup. Sounds legit. She’s like the family dog. Everybody loves Nagini.

Right: Nova. This is the other that requires some explanation. As my friendship with @blissomquisling grew, so too did our interests together. Voldemort and the injustice he suffered has always been a great passion of mine, so eventually she started to participate as well. Her oldest OC, Vanessa, is a demi-goddess/the goddess/the embodiment of love itself. Back YEARS ago when FaceBook had that Sims Social game, I made Voldemort for my profile, and she made Vanessa. Through absolutely no bidding of ours, Voldemort was immediately attracted to her, which made perfect sense, as anyone who meets Vanessa falls in love with her as a side effect of being love incarnate. Over the years, it kind of just kept happening. We had them both in Sims 2, and they were drawn to each other. We had them both in Sims 3, and they were drawn to each other. We had them both in Tomodachi Life, and … they were drawn to each other. (They’re actually one of my happiest married couples now LOL). The explanation for this now is that Voldemort sought the power of love, as he claimed to Dumbledore in one of the memories in Halfblood Prince. He had stated that his search had been unsuccessful, and Dumbledore came back that he’d probably been looking in the wrong places. But in our canon, he had in fact located this goddess of love in his wide search of the world for rare magics and hidden powers. He couldn’t help but be attracted to her, but the clincher was that love, being like a force or even an actual, quantifiable thing like a gas or liquid, would be attracted to places where there is less (or none) of itself. That being said, she found this terrible blunder of human kindness, charity, and understanding (someone who had received virtually none of these) fascinating, as well as something that needed correcting. She told him that she would be born to a mortal body, and that they would meet again when she did and what signs to look for. She didn’t know when this would come to pass, however, and the high levels of emotion and endorphins and the like usually make encounters with her dreamlike. By the time Voldemort came to Dumbledore to request the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, he had come to believe that the encounter had not been real, and felt somehow more betrayed and abandoned than before. At least until sometime in the 1970’s when he met Nova on a trip to France.

While residing in the 70’s, she still won’t give up a lot of her 60’s trends, such as her gogo boots, and short bob. She was actually very young when she re-encountered the Dark Lord, but she was not intimidated by him, and immediately struck up friendly conversation. He found her so curious and charming that he kept visiting her. She loves him unconditionally, even if she doesn’t condone all of his actions.

Ugh. I wish I could go on about her forever. She is so delightfully quirky and bizarre. She is seriously one of the greatest characters I have ever had the pleasure of interacting with. But I’m sure by now pretty much everyone has lost interest by now. This is getting into the realm of being more for my own records than anything.

FINALLY

The Loveseat: The horrible 60’s - 70’s pattern is based off of “that couch everyone had.” Yes. You’ve had it. I'VE had it. We’ve all had it. Nova has it. So Voldemort has it, poor bloke.“

Original Posting: https://almightytallestvoldy.deviantart.com/art/Voldemort-s-90th-Birthday-Another-Family-Photo-654695329