Itsallvenus - ⋆⋆Mari Venus⋆⋆

by Grafit Studio

Its all fun and games until you have to draw his hat from behind

me in planning stages of writing: this fucks. this is gonna be so fun.

me the minute i sit down to write: language is an unwieldy cudgel we use to beat the human experience to death in an attempt at ever communicating fully with another being. i wish intelligent life had never evolved. i want to go back to the cell stage like in spore

The people who love what you create are going to love it regardless. Your talent speaks for itself and I think it's great that you're finding that confidence and love for your own creations to be a driving force of revealing your full self. There are some shitty people here but they are everywhere. I think you're going to have an overwhelmingly positive response. But it's understandable that you're nervous, trusting and being vulnerable are a risk. But I also think you're more than able to recognize when someone is just being cruel for cruelty's sake and take the appropriate action, report, block, etc. It's your decision though and sometimes a little slice of anonymity can be nice. There's no right answer only what feels best for you and your spirit. You've got friends here who support and care about you and that won't stop because you share your face (figuratively and literally)

This is so incredibly helpful, and thoughtful in a way that must mean you're not a complete stranger to me. Thank you for the love put into this message. I think you're right. I want to be able to embrace myself fully and I think my own acceptance will be detectable among those who care about me.

can we like…get rid of the so-called leather and rubber “pride flags” ? it’s honestly ridiculous and offensive to the lgbtq community. those aren’t pride flags. 

I just realized it looks like Moon is balancing on your profile pic

AND IT MAKES ME GO TEEHEE EVERY TIME I CLICK ONTO MY PROFILE

Just so y’all know: I can’t speak for every other fic author but I can say that I remember when people leave me kind comments. I recognize your urls and/or usernames on AO3. I remember you and sometimes in writing my fics I think to myself, “Oh, I hope this person sees this because they liked x in this other fic I did.”

Not only that—I go back and reread comments when I’m feeling low. I look at tags and reblogs and asks and wish I could hold them in my hand like a note from a friend on an old, torn piece of notebook paper.

Your comments have so much more impact than you know. So thanks to those who use the comment section to spread love and encouragement. We appreciate you.

I did an IZ redraw for a doodle I made back in 2019 (which I’m pretty certain was the first doodle I made for my IZ series)

I don’t quite like how the final product came out but alas

Figuring out every day little ways to improve how I live with unmedicated ADHD. Sometimes they're in the form of sacrifices. Sacrifices of the way I wish I could live, if my brain and I got along.

I move into my home and place my bed right against the center of the back wall. I like it like that, it looks nice. But my brain disagrees, and prefers when we have extra space in the center of the room. It doesn't like that my only sitting spot is my bed, and tells me it's time to go to sleep when I get too comfortable like that. So I move the bed to the side, into the corner, and give myself floor room in the middle to stand, and dance, and pace, and stay upright so my brain remembers to stay awake.

I keep my desk downstairs. It's nice in the living room. I think it will motivate me to get out of my room more, with the sun, and it will hold my projector so I can watch movies on my wall. But my brain disagrees. My room is a quiet, safer place than downstairs. Downstairs where my roommate can find me creating. Downstairs where I risk being watched, or noticed, or pulled into conversation when I need to focus. The space doesn't feel right when I sit there. So I don't, and nothing gets done. I don't write, I don't draw, and I don't watch anything. So I move my desk to my room. It crowds the space, but I'm finally working. I place my keyboard on top, and I'm writing music again. It feels more like an upright this way, and I miss having a real piano. My brain is happy this way.

I take off my shoes at the entrance, to not track dirt in, or mess up my nice white carpets. But I get comfortable, and slow. I stop working, I stop creating. So I keep them on, even though I hate wearing them. I hate wearing socks. I like to have my feet on the ground. But my brain likes the sense of control they give me. You could go at any time. It says. You could get up right now if you need to. You won't have to waste time lacing up your boots when you have to run. Which is a ridiculous notion, really, because nothing's going to happen that I'd need to escape from. It's a safe neighborhood, I don't live with anyone dangerous, I don't have friends who will call me because their in trouble. But it keeps my brain alive anyway. Alive and buzzing and ready to go.

So we don't get along all the time. My brain's very needy, and so very very particular about how we do things. It does not compromise for me. But I'm learning to be okay with that, and learning to go with what it says. It tends to be right, really, even if I don't like it. Even if I wish things were different. But it wants what's best for me, and I forgive it for that. I forgive it for it's weird, particular ways. Hopefully, one day, when I can afford medication, I'll forgive myself too for fighting it for so long.

We're up to 2600 words babey I will beat you