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Background Illustrations provided by: http://edison.rutgers.edu/

NOTICE ABOUT COMMISSIONS:

Commissions will be closed after I complete all current/wait-listed commissions so I can work on Hyde. ( Anthology of Past Lives )

For those of you waiting, my apologies. It’s taking me longer to work because of some issues with my arm/hand/wrist things. (Also, the tablet was pining for the fjords, or something, yesterday)

SECOND NOTICE:

A third order of the first anthology comic will be opening up if people still have interest in owning a copy.

And as always, please feel free to send me a message if you have any questions. :)

Okay, I have to ask for help

Where are all these artists getting things printed/made? Body pillows, badges, keychains, charms, sticker sheets (specifically), fancy laminated cards (which I could probably do manually if my hands didn’t shake. Maybe mother-calm-hand can do it.) , even pencil cases.

Every time I look into it, I find shifty looking places that end up only actually selling square stickers and nothing else, and the pricing doesn’t even make sense for bulk orders. Also, I’ve never actually seen a place for printing on body pillows or pencil cases, or badges, or keychains…( well, once, but it was in Japanese and the translation sucked so I had no idea what was going on)

I want to draw some things for a body pillow and pencil cases and badges and keychains and and… even if no one buys them, I want some for myself and maybe I’ll just throw them at people if they ever visit. Ō — Ō

Resonance chpt 4

Help, I’m Alive

_________

Someone was touching him, and Tony opened his eyes. It still remained a ‘someone’, because oh yeah, blind.

"I don’t have anything valuable on me," he gurgled, and frowned at the weirdness of his voice.

"Is that your conditioned response to waking up, because if it is, I pity you."

Tony grunted, “Bruce, how’d you get in here? And yeah, it is when I wake up to a nice, mysterious fondling.”

"I still pity you."

"Have fun with that," Tony snarked, and sat up. The world decided to throw him off her back and if it weren’t for said fondling hands, he would have been right back on the floor. At least, he had a feeling he was still on the floor, and yep, there was the coffee table to his left. Tony kicked a foot at it, regretted it immediately, and flipped it off like the mature adult that he was.

Bruce was touching him again, and asking, “what happened?”

Tony snorted and batted away his probing fingers. “It’s no great mystery, is it? I mean, hello,” he groused, waving a hand in front of his eyes.

... Read more
I just wanted to say that I think people should respect your opinions. And that if they have an issue with them, they could confront you privately instead and perhaps make sure they know what you meant before they flip out on you. Anyways, your art is perfect. Your cosplays are perfect. Your face is perfect. You're just perfect. And people need to stop fussing about silly things. Keep being amazing. Lots of hugs and strawberries from me <3

[ I hope you don’t mind if I reply to this publicly, I just want everyone to see what a sweetie you are.] 

Thank you, I agree with that wholeheartedly. They never seem to ask for any clarification or explanation, but rather, launch off on their crusade for love and justice.

Augh all those perfects, nyyaooooo! haha! Thank you again, and hugs from me, but i’m keeping the strawberries. -demon eyes-  

Trickling downwards, because down is still a direction here, is it tears or blood? But how could he care, when everything else has fallen, his pride, his power, himself…

Truly, what was one more thing falling to the earth?

It falls, a single droplet off the end of his nose, and it reminds him of something humorous from his childhood, and it makes him cry rather than laugh. Now he knows for sure there are tears, and they fall, and fall, and fall.

Into the dirt his face is pressed into, onto the rubble beneath his body, and his face becomes sticky as his body waters the earth till it is mud. Two beautiful things combined, to make something disgusting. Oh, how that sounded familiar.

Trickling down, and he is glad there is a down, here. What a way to find out that direction is arbitrary, than by falling directionless through the void. What a way to fall from grace, to see things both near and far, hear the song of the branches in your ears, to loose yourself and find yourself all at once. 

It was beautiful.
It was horrible.
It was good.
It was painful. 

Down. Down was earth, and rock, and bones. He could not turn his body to see the sky, not yet, not while his own bones knit together again. A tickle along his spine, a tickle of a sharp knife as each one shifts back into place. He wonders, vaguely, how they know where to return to. He would ask them, if he could, because he doesn’t know where to return to.

Was there a place he fit, somewhere he functioned as he was supposed to? Where their others like him, another and another waiting for him to slip into place and transform them into a working machine? Someplace one would call home, perhaps not him, he could not get that word past his lips any longer, but perhaps those other bones could call it his home. If so…


If so, where was it? Oh where, oh where, oh where? 

The sky was as promised, vast and empty, and up. His tears trailed down his cheeks now, cutting lines through the dirt caked to his skin. It reminds him of something he hates about himself from the ice, from his lying father, and it makes him laugh rather than cry. Now he knows for sure there is no home, and he laughs, and laughs, and laughs.

How could he care, when everything else was lost, his family, his trust,  himself…

Truly, what was one more thing to lose?

Trickling downwards, because down is still a direction here, is it tears or blood? But how could he care, when everything else has fallen, his pride, his power, himself…

Truly, what was one more thing falling to the earth?

It falls, a single droplet off the end of his nose, and it reminds him of something humorous from his childhood, and it makes him cry rather than laugh. Now he knows for sure there are tears, and they fall, and fall, and fall.

Into the dirt his face is pressed into, onto the rubble beneath his body, and his face becomes sticky as his body waters the earth till it is mud. Two beautiful things combined, to make something disgusting. Oh, how that sounded familiar.

Trickling down, and he is glad there is a down, here. What a way to find out that direction is arbitrary, than by falling directionless through the void. What a way to fall from grace, to see things both near and far, hear the song of the branches in your ears, to loose yourself and find yourself all at once.

It was beautiful.
It was horrible.
It was good.
It was painful.

Down. Down was earth, and rock, and bones. He could not turn his body to see the sky, not yet, not while his own bones knit together again. A tickle along his spine, a tickle of a sharp knife as each one shifts back into place. He wonders, vaguely, how they know where to return to. He would ask them, if he could, because he doesn’t know where to return to.

Was there a place he fit, somewhere he functioned as he was supposed to? Where their others like him, another and another waiting for him to slip into place and transform them into a working machine? Someplace one would call home, perhaps not him, he could not get that word past his lips any longer, but perhaps those other bones could call it his home. If so…


If so, where was it? Oh where, oh where, oh where?

The sky was as promised, vast and empty, and up. His tears trailed down his cheeks now, cutting lines through the dirt caked to his skin. It reminds him of something he hates about himself from the ice, from his lying father, and it makes him laugh rather than cry. Now he knows for sure there is no home, and he laughs, and laughs, and laughs.

How could he care, when everything else was lost, his family, his trust, himself

Truly, what was one more thing to lose?

Arbitrary

Trickling downwards, because down is still a direction here, is it tears or blood? But how could he care, when everything else has fallen, his pride, his power, himself…

Truly, what was one more thing falling to the earth?

It falls, a single droplet off the end of his nose, and it reminds him of something humorous from his childhood, and it makes him cry rather than laugh. Now he knows for sure there are tears, and they fall, and fall, and fall.

Into the dirt his face is pressed into, onto the rubble beneath his body, and his face becomes sticky as his body waters the earth till it is mud. Two beautiful things combined, to make something disgusting. Oh, how that sounded familiar.

Trickling down, and he is glad there is a down, here. What a way to find out that direction is arbitrary, than by falling directionless through the void. What a way to fall from grace, to see things both near and far, hear the song of the branches in your ears, to loose yourself and find yourself all at once.

It was beautiful.
It was horrible.
It was good.
It was painful.

Down. Down was earth, and rock, and bones. He could not turn his body to see the sky, not yet, not while his own bones knit together again. A tickle along his spine, a tickle of a sharp knife as each one shifts back into place. He wonders, vaguely, how they know where to return to. He would ask them, if he could, because he doesn’t know where to return to.

Was there a place he fit, somewhere he functioned as he was supposed to? Where their others like him, another and another waiting for him to slip into place and transform them into a working machine? Someplace one would call home, perhaps not him, he could not get that word past his lips any longer, but perhaps those other bones could call it his home. If so…


If so, where was it? Oh where, oh where, oh where?

The sky was as promised, vast and empty, and up. His tears trailed down his cheeks now, cutting lines through the dirt caked to his skin. It reminds him of something he hates about himself from the ice, from his lying father, and it makes him laugh rather than cry. Now he knows for sure there is no home, and he laughs, and laughs, and laughs.

How could he care, when everything else was lost, his family, his trust, himself

Truly, what was one more thing to lose?

New rule:

I will no longer be answering anon asks that revolve around personal issues or certain heavy topics. This means I will also not be adding my thoughts to any discussions about politics, sexuality, comic book character genders , etc.

If you wish to discuss or ask me something, ask as yourself and we can talk in private about it.

Because, this way, someone won’t find the need to dispute my personal opinion on a subject by twisting my words to suit their ego-boosting needs.

I will gladly talk or listen, but I will no longer be posting them to the public forum.

Reblogged from thorsockrock  32 notes
Ok so this may be a completely random and weird question and feel free to ignore it but what is it called when you feel romantic attraction to all genders but not sexual attraction -anon:)
Anonymous

thorsockrock:

batwynn:

Personally, I would just call that attraction. Having appreciation and romantic feelings towards anyone, across all genders/race/sexuality shouldn’t need a label. That’s called open mindedness, or basically you are very comfortable with people as they are and don’t require a specific physical feature to stimulate romantic feelings towards them.  As for not feeling a sexual attraction, many things can be a cause this including health issues, depression, or just not feeling it. Technically this is called Asexual, but again, depending on the situation, it can come and go or last a life time. So really, it depends on your personal disposition. Which kind of applies to pretty much any romantic/sexual identification. 

> You are you, you don’t fit in a defined niche because your life and experiences are different than any other. 

If you are looking for more information, and perhaps something more defining for what you feel, I would suggest looking into the different forms of Asexuality.

Hello, anon! You should look up the terms panromantic and asexual because that sounds exactly like what you described. Panromantic asexual.

To batwynn: your answer here is pretty problematic. If YOU don’t like labels, that’s fine. But many of us enjoy labels for many reasons: having a term for it shows us we are not alone nor broken, that there are indeed others like us. Using these terms can help us find those who understand what we experience more easily.
Also, I really, really do not like the narcissism of “oh that’s just attraction and open-mindedness if you don’t care about gender!” because not only does this romanticize pan- orientations but it also looks down on other orientations as if it’s not valid to have a certain attraction. Don’t get me wrong - there’s lots of problematic things in attraction (people claiming to have a preference for a certain race, people refusing to date trans people, etc.) but these are all created by things like racism and cissexism and other oppressive teachings.

Again, everyone is free to label themselves as they wish and this includes not labeling yourself, but please still watch how you respond to asks like this when you do speak on labels.

Firstly, it’s my opinion and they asked me . If they don’t like my answer, i’m not bending their arm backwards to read it, let alone believe my word as gospel. Secondly, no where was another form of sexuality or romantic feelings mentioned to be compared to or ‘shit upon’. You can like whatever you want, like I said: if you need a physical attribute to sexual attract you, so be it. I never said there was anything wrong with it. Could I have looked it up and listed the labels that they wanted? Yes, but so could they. I, personally ( since I was asked ) gave them that answer. ( I repeat, since they asked me, not google.) And you know what, i’m so very done with people twisting my words to be the negative when the only message I was promoting was be happy with who you fucking are. So to the anon, next time ask someone who shows interest in these things such as this kind person here. If what you wanted was a name for how you feel. And to this person here, next time don’t make it about you, you could have just as easily given the information without finding some fucking excuse to harass me for my terrible ways of trying be supportive to people and their individuality.