#at the end of the tunnel

[amerwitch]

i want

i want to write more.  i have my two projects i am working on now, “The Work” and my Supernatural/Schitt's Creek fic.  i know i want to make the fic smutty.  never done that before but, here’s to new things.

i want to write more about my witchcraft.  i’ve been doing this for 20 years, i should be writing about it. 

also, tarot.  i have ideas, i want to put words on paper.

and my blog.  i feel that i keep too much inside and that is not healthy for me.

i really want to get cleaned and organized with my lair.  i got a part cleaned up after an depressing October and, i feel so much better for it.

i want to work out more.  i want to get back to the moving meditation of dancing in my underwear.  i miss that.

and, just plain meditation.  i want to get into that groove.

going back to working out, i want to get stronger.  i got some videos stashed away and i know it will be a slow walk up a hill, but to get to the top!

and another tattoo.  i have it planed out and there is an idea for a third.

so, why all this?  why post all these ideas?

Wednesday morning the thought of suicide crossed my mind.  and the day spend half doom scrolling and cleaning and today it hit me.

i am queer.  no matter how i slice the cake, i am queer.  i am who ThEy are coming for.  i am who ThEy want gone.

and no, it’s not happening.  i feel that i can’t do anything to change the greater world but, that’s not who i am.  i am very much “Keep your backyard tidy before fucking with your neighbor’s.” and that’s what i’m doing. 

i am working on myself, as an act of defiance.  me becoming a better person, a better queer person, being out there in this red state i live in, living my best life, laughing at the fuckers, that is an act of defiance.

is this all i can do?  motherfucker, i am trying my best.  i am not helping anyone by living in a pit of despair.  let me get out of this pit, then i can fuck someone up.

[asteroidtroglodyte]

5 years ago, I was in Rehab.

10 years ago, I was watching my Potential and Opportunities dissolve and evaporate in an ocean of cheap gin and expensive whiskey.

But 5 years ago, I was in Rehab.

One of the exercises they had us perform was to imagine ourselves happy, 5 years in the future.

Many of us in that room had forgotten how to imagine nice things happening to them. A few snorted (well, I snorted), finding the notion that we’d even still be around in 5 years grimly humorous.

For about half of us, it was the last stop on the way down.

But I indulged the therapist. I was there, after all, because I did not want to die. So, I imagined myself, 5 years hence.

Happy.

It came to me all at once; an artistic remix on Norman Rockwell’s Freedom From Want, reframed with myself placing food at the table.

Sunday Dinner At My Place, I answered, when it came my turn to share my fantasy. I was asked what food I imagined eating.

It’s not the meal itself, I said, it’s the implications framed around it. Sunday Dinner At My Place means that I have a Place. It means that I have Family that will actually speak to me and friends who actually want to see me. It means money enough not just to feed myself but others too. It means having the time to spare to take the time preparing the meal.

A lot of nodding heads all around me. A struck chord. Many people with no Place, in that place. Nowhere that would lament their leaving.

5 years hence, as I lay down to sleep in my Home, with my Wife and my Son, surrounded by my Art and my Flowers, I reflect.

It was a long road. It was hard. We lost people. So many people. There were long days and long nights and hospital stays. Angry arguments with ghosts. I changed, in ways I never hoped for, or expected. Good ways, finally, for once. Slowly, against the backdrop of a world in chaos, I found my mind.

Sometimes, My Wife wondered aloud, what she did to deserve me. After some stumbling with my feelings, I eventually settled on an answer.

I’m a Rescue.

She gave me a Home.

And, so, I gave her a Family.

It seemed fair

This Sunday, my folks, which whom I have not had a shouting match in years, will come over for dinner. We will cook and eat together. My Friend became My Wife, and she took a piece of me and with it she made Our Son. There will be many hugs, and no violence. Good Things Happened.

I don’t know who needs to hear this, but you don’t know what the future holds.

don’t give up yet, ok?

It could get good, even.

[nickitively]

Incredible prose

[windfalling]

1.02 // 1.06 // 1.08 The Stranger vs. Sol on recognizing and differentiating Osha and Mae

[degenerateshinji]

(read left to right)

in a dream, on a wave.

[fairydrowning]

in order to live a happy life, you must romanticize everything (and see a good therapist).

[baddybaddyadardaddy]

see here's the thing about Adar...

MY MAN JUST KEEPS WINNING!!

Sauron at the beginning of the Second Age? STABBED.

Orodruin? ERUPTED.

Eregion? SIEGED.

The Ring of Power? SECURED.

Like ffs, if the elves had just DONE WHAT HE ASKED, my man would have dealt with Ost-in-Edhil's Sauron infestation by LUNCHTIME.

JUST LET HIM COOK.

[uh-ohspaghettio]

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

best BEAST!!

[parisoonic]

artblock = heads facing right (whoops secret reupload as i made some small adjustments to sniper as he looked daft. him/soldier/engie are definitely the toughest mercs for me to draw)

[otaku553]

Procrastination doodles of sabo for the king sabo au :)

[amerwitch]

weekly update

i am 106% done for the month, 39% done for the year giving me a C+.  ta da? some are up days and some are down days.  i need to find a happy middle. i am nervous about my plans for next week.  i need help.  i need to find help.  and i think it’s coming towards me and i really need to work on that harder.

[crowleycorvid]

Thinking about Hutchins and Harumi I'm so ill. Garmadon Rulez did something to me. He sang her to sleep every night. He took her to libraries so she could research despite her parents disapproving. He gave her that journal to help her cope with her trauma.

He didn't have to do any of this. None of these things were because of his obligation to the royal family really and in fact he sort of went behind their backs taking her to the library of domu (even if it took some convincing). He was the first to suspect her of her plans but didn't tell anyone, not even the ninja when he definitely had a proper chance to. I think he genuinely just cared about her. And that's making me so

[buckycap]

idk you guys there’s something about orym previously being so willing to follow will into death and letting his grief eat him alive but now telling the matron that it’s pretty great living a lifetime while holding dorian’s gaze and smiling at him, orym and dorian both going through so much pain and grief in life yes but being alive also means experiencing and finding love and joy

[evydraws]

I couldn't stop making more and more of these small ink vignette illustrations for the art zine

[lemonwrap]

Thinking about how if you use 09 Ghost’s backstory with 22 Ghost, Ghost likely hasn’t trusted anyone since Roba. He retreated into himself and became a husk, because it was clear that trusting anybody in pretty much any capacity was just asking to get fucked over.

The only thing he seemed to have left was his job. He didn’t let a single soul close to him, barely tolerating even Price and Gaz, and spent too much time contemplating pulling the trigger.

And then Soap waltzes into his life.

Soap is energetic, flirty, and seems to think he’s the funniest person in the whole damn world—the only good thing about him is that he’s excellent at his job. Ghost kind of hates him. He keeps all communication short and professional, and avoids Soap outside of missions whenever possible.

But Soap was instantly drawn to his new lieutenant, and despite the man’s rebuffs and typically cold demeanor, Soap has never been one to give up easily. He makes an effort to get to know the elusive Ghost. It happens slowly—very slowly—but Ghost begins to warm up to Soap. He tolerates the sergeant’s jokes better (and even occasionally likes them), speaks more than a few words to him at a time, and Soap’s bright personality no longer makes him want to push the man out of a window. Usually. Ghost starts to look forward to spending time with Soap, and they work together better than ever before. Even Price notices the change.

And then Las Almas happens. Ghost hears Soap’s voice over the comms, and realizes with a startling clarity that he’s relieved that Soap is alive, and not for tactical reasons—he’s relieved Soap is alive because he likes him.

Ghost could’ve left Soap behind, but he didn’t. He coached Soap with jokes, advice, and encouragement as he made his way through the city. He waited in that church with bated breath until Soap arrived, bleeding and exhausted but managing a smile.

After that, they’re practically joined at the hip. Ghost gains something he hasn’t had in a long, long time: someone to trust.