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Keeping
Keeping
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Riches
Bigly
Bigly
I Have
I Have
8 Minutes
8 Minutes
Died
Died
From
From
Long
Long
The
The
Love Is
Love Is 

    
                    

                

            
        
    

    
    
    






            

            
            

                

                    
                

                

                    
                    
                    

                        


	


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        rubitrightintomyeyes:

theonion:

Rock Apparently Factors Into Girlfriend’s Shower Routine
SEATTLE—Saying he was confused about the full extent of its purpose as well as its overall benefit, local man Jacob Ferris, 25, nonetheless surmised today that the oblong rock located in girlfriend Sarah Milstein’s shower caddy must somehow factor into her bathing routine, sources confirmed.
“I guess at some point while she’s showering, she rubs a rock on her body,” said Ferris, expressing what he claimed was “the only possible conclusion” about the light-gray rock in his girlfriend’s bathroom. “I mean, it looks sort of nice, so she could just have it there for decoration or something. But it’s usually right near all the other soaps and her loofah, so I think it’s probably something she actually uses while under the water.”
“I really don’t know how it all works,” Ferris added. “All I know is that in between Sarah getting into the shower and getting out, there’s a rock involved.”
Ferris, who said he was unable to determine exactly when in the showering process the rock first comes into play, told reporters he is equally clueless about what part of the body the rock is used on.
In addition, Ferris said he occasionally inspects the roughly 3-ounce object when he’s in Milstein’s shower, and told reporters that the rock is nearly always wet and is occasionally moved to slightly different spots within the bathtub, leading him to believe that his girlfriend uses it fairly regularly. He also noted his girlfriend’s bathing time never seems particularly longer than the average person’s considering she has added a rock into the mix.
Ferris added that all attempts to incorporate the rock into his own shower routine have ultimately been unsuccessful.
“I tried rubbing it on my skin once, and it hurt,” Ferris said, concluding that pouring soap and water directly onto the rock neither made it softer nor easier on his skin. “I could maybe see how it could get some dirt off of your body, but it seems too painful to work. Her skin usually looks nice though, so maybe I’m wrong.”
“There is a chance it could be a hair thing,” Ferris continued. “Maybe she rubs the rock in her hair? I don’t know.”
Ferris confirmed he has considered numerous reasons for why his girlfriend uses the rock in the shower, including that she has some type of skin condition, that the rock is some sort of weird tradition her family has, or that everyone uses rocks in the shower and he has been out of the loop the entire time.
“It could be for cleaning the bathtub,” said Ferris, adding he once suspected the rock was a device for making the bathroom smell nice, but then noticed it had no discernible smell whatsoever. “Like every few weekends she scrubs the tub with this rock? I guess I could see Sarah doing that.”
While Ferris said he is mostly certain that the rock was initially purchased at a home goods store of some kind, he was not able to completely rule out the possibility it was just a rock that his girlfriend found on the ground and decided to put in her shower.
“I wonder if I should put a rock in my shower for when she’s over here,” said Ferris, who said he once tried to locate a rock at a Bed Bath & Beyond, but left after not wanting to walk up to a sales clerk and ask them where they kept their “shower rocks.” “Or I could just tell her to leave a rock at my place if she wants.”
“I’m probably not going to do that,” Ferris added.
At press time, a visibly perplexed Ferris had seen the rock sitting in Milstein’s trashcan and then looked in the shower to see another rock sitting in its place.


: rubitrightintomyeyes:

theonion:

Rock Apparently Factors Into Girlfriend’s Shower Routine
SEATTLE—Saying he was confused about the full extent of its purpose as well as its overall benefit, local man Jacob Ferris, 25, nonetheless surmised today that the oblong rock located in girlfriend Sarah Milstein’s shower caddy must somehow factor into her bathing routine, sources confirmed.
“I guess at some point while she’s showering, she rubs a rock on her body,” said Ferris, expressing what he claimed was “the only possible conclusion” about the light-gray rock in his girlfriend’s bathroom. “I mean, it looks sort of nice, so she could just have it there for decoration or something. But it’s usually right near all the other soaps and her loofah, so I think it’s probably something she actually uses while under the water.”
“I really don’t know how it all works,” Ferris added. “All I know is that in between Sarah getting into the shower and getting out, there’s a rock involved.”
Ferris, who said he was unable to determine exactly when in the showering process the rock first comes into play, told reporters he is equally clueless about what part of the body the rock is used on.
In addition, Ferris said he occasionally inspects the roughly 3-ounce object when he’s in Milstein’s shower, and told reporters that the rock is nearly always wet and is occasionally moved to slightly different spots within the bathtub, leading him to believe that his girlfriend uses it fairly regularly. He also noted his girlfriend’s bathing time never seems particularly longer than the average person’s considering she has added a rock into the mix.
Ferris added that all attempts to incorporate the rock into his own shower routine have ultimately been unsuccessful.
“I tried rubbing it on my skin once, and it hurt,” Ferris said, concluding that pouring soap and water directly onto the rock neither made it softer nor easier on his skin. “I could maybe see how it could get some dirt off of your body, but it seems too painful to work. Her skin usually looks nice though, so maybe I’m wrong.”
“There is a chance it could be a hair thing,” Ferris continued. “Maybe she rubs the rock in her hair? I don’t know.”
Ferris confirmed he has considered numerous reasons for why his girlfriend uses the rock in the shower, including that she has some type of skin condition, that the rock is some sort of weird tradition her family has, or that everyone uses rocks in the shower and he has been out of the loop the entire time.
“It could be for cleaning the bathtub,” said Ferris, adding he once suspected the rock was a device for making the bathroom smell nice, but then noticed it had no discernible smell whatsoever. “Like every few weekends she scrubs the tub with this rock? I guess I could see Sarah doing that.”
While Ferris said he is mostly certain that the rock was initially purchased at a home goods store of some kind, he was not able to completely rule out the possibility it was just a rock that his girlfriend found on the ground and decided to put in her shower.
“I wonder if I should put a rock in my shower for when she’s over here,” said Ferris, who said he once tried to locate a rock at a Bed Bath & Beyond, but left after not wanting to walk up to a sales clerk and ask them where they kept their “shower rocks.” “Or I could just tell her to leave a rock at my place if she wants.”
“I’m probably not going to do that,” Ferris added.
At press time, a visibly perplexed Ferris had seen the rock sitting in Milstein’s trashcan and then looked in the shower to see another rock sitting in its place.



        

            
            

                
                
                    rubitrightintomyeyes:

theonion:

Rock Apparently Factors Into Girlfriend’s Shower Routine
SEATTLE—Saying he was confused about the full extent of its purpose as well as its overall benefit, local man Jacob Ferris, 25, nonetheless surmised today that the oblong rock located in girlfriend Sarah Milstein’s shower caddy must somehow factor into her bathing routine, sources confirmed.
“I guess at some point while she’s showering, she rubs a rock on her body,” said Ferris, expressing what he claimed was “the only possible conclusion” about the light-gray rock in his girlfriend’s bathroom. “I mean, it looks sort of nice, so she could just have it there for decoration or something. But it’s usually right near all the other soaps and her loofah, so I think it’s probably something she actually uses while under the water.”
“I really don’t know how it all works,” Ferris added. “All I know is that in between Sarah getting into the shower and getting out, there’s a rock involved.”
Ferris, who said he was unable to determine exactly when in the showering process the rock first comes into play, told reporters he is equally clueless about what part of the body the rock is used on.
In addition, Ferris said he occasionally inspects the roughly 3-ounce object when he’s in Milstein’s shower, and told reporters that the rock is nearly always wet and is occasionally moved to slightly different spots within the bathtub, leading him to believe that his girlfriend uses it fairly regularly. He also noted his girlfriend’s bathing time never seems particularly longer than the average person’s considering she has added a rock into the mix.
Ferris added that all attempts to incorporate the rock into his own shower routine have ultimately been unsuccessful.
“I tried rubbing it on my skin once, and it hurt,” Ferris said, concluding that pouring soap and water directly onto the rock neither made it softer nor easier on his skin. “I could maybe see how it could get some dirt off of your body, but it seems too painful to work. Her skin usually looks nice though, so maybe I’m wrong.”
“There is a chance it could be a hair thing,” Ferris continued. “Maybe she rubs the rock in her hair? I don’t know.”
Ferris confirmed he has considered numerous reasons for why his girlfriend uses the rock in the shower, including that she has some type of skin condition, that the rock is some sort of weird tradition her family has, or that everyone uses rocks in the shower and he has been out of the loop the entire time.
“It could be for cleaning the bathtub,” said Ferris, adding he once suspected the rock was a device for making the bathroom smell nice, but then noticed it had no discernible smell whatsoever. “Like every few weekends she scrubs the tub with this rock? I guess I could see Sarah doing that.”
While Ferris said he is mostly certain that the rock was initially purchased at a home goods store of some kind, he was not able to completely rule out the possibility it was just a rock that his girlfriend found on the ground and decided to put in her shower.
“I wonder if I should put a rock in my shower for when she’s over here,” said Ferris, who said he once tried to locate a rock at a Bed Bath & Beyond, but left after not wanting to walk up to a sales clerk and ask them where they kept their “shower rocks.” “Or I could just tell her to leave a rock at my place if she wants.”
“I’m probably not going to do that,” Ferris added.
At press time, a visibly perplexed Ferris had seen the rock sitting in Milstein’s trashcan and then looked in the shower to see another rock sitting in its place.


: rubitrightintomyeyes:

theonion:

Rock Apparently Factors Into Girlfriend’s Shower Routine
SEATTLE—Saying he was confused about the full extent of its purpose as well as its overall benefit, local man Jacob Ferris, 25, nonetheless surmised today that the oblong rock located in girlfriend Sarah Milstein’s shower caddy must somehow factor into her bathing routine, sources confirmed.
“I guess at some point while she’s showering, she rubs a rock on her body,” said Ferris, expressing what he claimed was “the only possible conclusion” about the light-gray rock in his girlfriend’s bathroom. “I mean, it looks sort of nice, so she could just have it there for decoration or something. But it’s usually right near all the other soaps and her loofah, so I think it’s probably something she actually uses while under the water.”
“I really don’t know how it all works,” Ferris added. “All I know is that in between Sarah getting into the shower and getting out, there’s a rock involved.”
Ferris, who said he was unable to determine exactly when in the showering process the rock first comes into play, told reporters he is equally clueless about what part of the body the rock is used on.
In addition, Ferris said he occasionally inspects the roughly 3-ounce object when he’s in Milstein’s shower, and told reporters that the rock is nearly always wet and is occasionally moved to slightly different spots within the bathtub, leading him to believe that his girlfriend uses it fairly regularly. He also noted his girlfriend’s bathing time never seems particularly longer than the average person’s considering she has added a rock into the mix.
Ferris added that all attempts to incorporate the rock into his own shower routine have ultimately been unsuccessful.
“I tried rubbing it on my skin once, and it hurt,” Ferris said, concluding that pouring soap and water directly onto the rock neither made it softer nor easier on his skin. “I could maybe see how it could get some dirt off of your body, but it seems too painful to work. Her skin usually looks nice though, so maybe I’m wrong.”
“There is a chance it could be a hair thing,” Ferris continued. “Maybe she rubs the rock in her hair? I don’t know.”
Ferris confirmed he has considered numerous reasons for why his girlfriend uses the rock in the shower, including that she has some type of skin condition, that the rock is some sort of weird tradition her family has, or that everyone uses rocks in the shower and he has been out of the loop the entire time.
“It could be for cleaning the bathtub,” said Ferris, adding he once suspected the rock was a device for making the bathroom smell nice, but then noticed it had no discernible smell whatsoever. “Like every few weekends she scrubs the tub with this rock? I guess I could see Sarah doing that.”
While Ferris said he is mostly certain that the rock was initially purchased at a home goods store of some kind, he was not able to completely rule out the possibility it was just a rock that his girlfriend found on the ground and decided to put in her shower.
“I wonder if I should put a rock in my shower for when she’s over here,” said Ferris, who said he once tried to locate a rock at a Bed Bath & Beyond, but left after not wanting to walk up to a sales clerk and ask them where they kept their “shower rocks.” “Or I could just tell her to leave a rock at my place if she wants.”
“I’m probably not going to do that,” Ferris added.
At press time, a visibly perplexed Ferris had seen the rock sitting in Milstein’s trashcan and then looked in the shower to see another rock sitting in its place.



                    
                
            

            
                
                
rubitrightintomyeyes:

theonion:

Rock Apparently Factors Into Girlfriend’s Shower Routine
SEATTLE—Saying he was confused about the full...

                
            
            
        

    

    

        
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        stellarsteele:
Here is a preview of my first book ever! I am planning on releasing the full book very soon. Let me know what you think :))).
Prologue
            My name is Eva. I had one boyfriend in high school who turned
out to be a disappointment. After breaking up with him, he kept sending me
creepy messages on social media. I did what any girl would do—I blocked him. 
            I am anxious for another romantic
experience with a different outcome. I thought college would be my chance, but
this pandemic swooped in and fucked everything up.
My ideal is a cute guy who is sensitive and provides me with
unconditional love. I want to have deep conversations with him too. 
Physical appearance isn’t my greatest asset: I am not ugly,
but not gorgeous. Sometimes guys at parties tell me that I’m charming and a
good listener though. I would much rather be kissed than told these things, but
I’ve learned to work with what I have.
I must admit, I’m hard on myself. My roommate Emma has a lot
of hookups and I always feel below her. She still complains about the absence
of dateable guys which makes me feel better about my lack of success. 
I should mention my parents because I am going to be stuck
with them for a while. They are strange as fuck. My dad is a classic nerd and my
mother was wild in college. I’m pretty sure that she did cocaine at a party in
college once. I honestly couldn’t tell you how they ended up together.
I have no idea what to expect from this quarantine. I’m going
to try to be productive and stay positive. Maybe, something good will come out
of this. I’ve already improved my personal hygiene—it’s hard to stay super
hygienic in college. I’ve been eating a lot healthier too since college
cafeterias are no longer part of my daily routine. 
I also have a good excuse for being single. I’m going to take
this time to find out more about myself. Maybe a boyfriend isn’t what I need
right now. 
Although, if a cute guy were to enter my life right now, I am
not sure I would be able to refuse him. Even if he got me infected…
Day 1
            My quarantine hasn’t been too bad so far. I started off by
cleaning my room: I found a lot of dust under my bed and on my windows that
desperately needed attention. My closet was a disaster too. I found a ton of
clothes that haven’t fit me since middle school. 
            After, I went for a run in my
neighborhood and discovered that my neighbors were completely disregarding the social
distancing protocol. I didn’t heckle them or anything for disobeying the rules,
but I was disappointed. You really discover who people really are when the
world goes to shit.
            I laid on my bed for a while and
ended up reading an entire book. I haven’t been committed to a book like that
since the Harry Potter books. I was lowkey impressed with myself. After, I fell
asleep for a couple hours. I have a feeling that naps are going to be a big
part of my daily routine even if I try to resist them. 
            Next, I checked my school email and
discovered that all my classes are moving to a virtual platform called Zoom. I
have no idea how virtual chemistry labs are going to work. Hopefully, my professor
will save everyone the stress and give us all an A.
            I checked my Instagram feed and
ended up making a clever post. I got the most likes I have ever gotten which
was satisfying. I am going to try to be more regular with my social media
posts.
Now, I’m sitting at my desk listening to The Weeknd’s new
album. I love his angelic voice and atmospheric beats. I’m trying to come up
with a list of goals for myself for quarantine: read a book; try to spend more
time with my parents; do yoga 3 times per week; post regularly on social media;
get laid. 
This is probably influenced by The Weeknd’s erotic music, but
sex does sound nice right now. 
            It sounds so nice that I grab
my dildo out of my drawer and take my pants off. I slide it slowly into my
vagina at first and gradually increase the speed. I imagine my ideal guy on top
of me, penetrating me and whispering dirty things in my ear. I am getting so
wet. It is surprising how responsive I am to this little toy. Using my other
hand, I start massaging my clit. Now, I’m forcefully moving the dildo in and
out of my pussy. In my mind, my ideal man is caressing my back and clapping my
cheeks hard as fuck. I start moaning and eventually I come all over my bed
sheets. 
The initial pleasure from the orgasm quickly wears off.
Instead of feeling blissful, I feel ashamed of myself for not finding a man
since high school. The loneliness is suffocating. I feel myself sinking into my
bed, drowning in my tears slowly. Everyone seems to have found someone except
for me. 
: stellarsteele:
Here is a preview of my first book ever! I am planning on releasing the full book very soon. Let me know what you think :))).
Prologue
            My name is Eva. I had one boyfriend in high school who turned
out to be a disappointment. After breaking up with him, he kept sending me
creepy messages on social media. I did what any girl would do—I blocked him. 
            I am anxious for another romantic
experience with a different outcome. I thought college would be my chance, but
this pandemic swooped in and fucked everything up.
My ideal is a cute guy who is sensitive and provides me with
unconditional love. I want to have deep conversations with him too. 
Physical appearance isn’t my greatest asset: I am not ugly,
but not gorgeous. Sometimes guys at parties tell me that I’m charming and a
good listener though. I would much rather be kissed than told these things, but
I’ve learned to work with what I have.
I must admit, I’m hard on myself. My roommate Emma has a lot
of hookups and I always feel below her. She still complains about the absence
of dateable guys which makes me feel better about my lack of success. 
I should mention my parents because I am going to be stuck
with them for a while. They are strange as fuck. My dad is a classic nerd and my
mother was wild in college. I’m pretty sure that she did cocaine at a party in
college once. I honestly couldn’t tell you how they ended up together.
I have no idea what to expect from this quarantine. I’m going
to try to be productive and stay positive. Maybe, something good will come out
of this. I’ve already improved my personal hygiene—it’s hard to stay super
hygienic in college. I’ve been eating a lot healthier too since college
cafeterias are no longer part of my daily routine. 
I also have a good excuse for being single. I’m going to take
this time to find out more about myself. Maybe a boyfriend isn’t what I need
right now. 
Although, if a cute guy were to enter my life right now, I am
not sure I would be able to refuse him. Even if he got me infected…
Day 1
            My quarantine hasn’t been too bad so far. I started off by
cleaning my room: I found a lot of dust under my bed and on my windows that
desperately needed attention. My closet was a disaster too. I found a ton of
clothes that haven’t fit me since middle school. 
            After, I went for a run in my
neighborhood and discovered that my neighbors were completely disregarding the social
distancing protocol. I didn’t heckle them or anything for disobeying the rules,
but I was disappointed. You really discover who people really are when the
world goes to shit.
            I laid on my bed for a while and
ended up reading an entire book. I haven’t been committed to a book like that
since the Harry Potter books. I was lowkey impressed with myself. After, I fell
asleep for a couple hours. I have a feeling that naps are going to be a big
part of my daily routine even if I try to resist them. 
            Next, I checked my school email and
discovered that all my classes are moving to a virtual platform called Zoom. I
have no idea how virtual chemistry labs are going to work. Hopefully, my professor
will save everyone the stress and give us all an A.
            I checked my Instagram feed and
ended up making a clever post. I got the most likes I have ever gotten which
was satisfying. I am going to try to be more regular with my social media
posts.
Now, I’m sitting at my desk listening to The Weeknd’s new
album. I love his angelic voice and atmospheric beats. I’m trying to come up
with a list of goals for myself for quarantine: read a book; try to spend more
time with my parents; do yoga 3 times per week; post regularly on social media;
get laid. 
This is probably influenced by The Weeknd’s erotic music, but
sex does sound nice right now. 
            It sounds so nice that I grab
my dildo out of my drawer and take my pants off. I slide it slowly into my
vagina at first and gradually increase the speed. I imagine my ideal guy on top
of me, penetrating me and whispering dirty things in my ear. I am getting so
wet. It is surprising how responsive I am to this little toy. Using my other
hand, I start massaging my clit. Now, I’m forcefully moving the dildo in and
out of my pussy. In my mind, my ideal man is caressing my back and clapping my
cheeks hard as fuck. I start moaning and eventually I come all over my bed
sheets. 
The initial pleasure from the orgasm quickly wears off.
Instead of feeling blissful, I feel ashamed of myself for not finding a man
since high school. The loneliness is suffocating. I feel myself sinking into my
bed, drowning in my tears slowly. Everyone seems to have found someone except
for me. 

        

            
            

                
                
                    stellarsteele:
Here is a preview of my first book ever! I am planning on releasing the full book very soon. Let me know what you think :))).
Prologue
            My name is Eva. I had one boyfriend in high school who turned
out to be a disappointment. After breaking up with him, he kept sending me
creepy messages on social media. I did what any girl would do—I blocked him. 
            I am anxious for another romantic
experience with a different outcome. I thought college would be my chance, but
this pandemic swooped in and fucked everything up.
My ideal is a cute guy who is sensitive and provides me with
unconditional love. I want to have deep conversations with him too. 
Physical appearance isn’t my greatest asset: I am not ugly,
but not gorgeous. Sometimes guys at parties tell me that I’m charming and a
good listener though. I would much rather be kissed than told these things, but
I’ve learned to work with what I have.
I must admit, I’m hard on myself. My roommate Emma has a lot
of hookups and I always feel below her. She still complains about the absence
of dateable guys which makes me feel better about my lack of success. 
I should mention my parents because I am going to be stuck
with them for a while. They are strange as fuck. My dad is a classic nerd and my
mother was wild in college. I’m pretty sure that she did cocaine at a party in
college once. I honestly couldn’t tell you how they ended up together.
I have no idea what to expect from this quarantine. I’m going
to try to be productive and stay positive. Maybe, something good will come out
of this. I’ve already improved my personal hygiene—it’s hard to stay super
hygienic in college. I’ve been eating a lot healthier too since college
cafeterias are no longer part of my daily routine. 
I also have a good excuse for being single. I’m going to take
this time to find out more about myself. Maybe a boyfriend isn’t what I need
right now. 
Although, if a cute guy were to enter my life right now, I am
not sure I would be able to refuse him. Even if he got me infected…
Day 1
            My quarantine hasn’t been too bad so far. I started off by
cleaning my room: I found a lot of dust under my bed and on my windows that
desperately needed attention. My closet was a disaster too. I found a ton of
clothes that haven’t fit me since middle school. 
            After, I went for a run in my
neighborhood and discovered that my neighbors were completely disregarding the social
distancing protocol. I didn’t heckle them or anything for disobeying the rules,
but I was disappointed. You really discover who people really are when the
world goes to shit.
            I laid on my bed for a while and
ended up reading an entire book. I haven’t been committed to a book like that
since the Harry Potter books. I was lowkey impressed with myself. After, I fell
asleep for a couple hours. I have a feeling that naps are going to be a big
part of my daily routine even if I try to resist them. 
            Next, I checked my school email and
discovered that all my classes are moving to a virtual platform called Zoom. I
have no idea how virtual chemistry labs are going to work. Hopefully, my professor
will save everyone the stress and give us all an A.
            I checked my Instagram feed and
ended up making a clever post. I got the most likes I have ever gotten which
was satisfying. I am going to try to be more regular with my social media
posts.
Now, I’m sitting at my desk listening to The Weeknd’s new
album. I love his angelic voice and atmospheric beats. I’m trying to come up
with a list of goals for myself for quarantine: read a book; try to spend more
time with my parents; do yoga 3 times per week; post regularly on social media;
get laid. 
This is probably influenced by The Weeknd’s erotic music, but
sex does sound nice right now. 
            It sounds so nice that I grab
my dildo out of my drawer and take my pants off. I slide it slowly into my
vagina at first and gradually increase the speed. I imagine my ideal guy on top
of me, penetrating me and whispering dirty things in my ear. I am getting so
wet. It is surprising how responsive I am to this little toy. Using my other
hand, I start massaging my clit. Now, I’m forcefully moving the dildo in and
out of my pussy. In my mind, my ideal man is caressing my back and clapping my
cheeks hard as fuck. I start moaning and eventually I come all over my bed
sheets. 
The initial pleasure from the orgasm quickly wears off.
Instead of feeling blissful, I feel ashamed of myself for not finding a man
since high school. The loneliness is suffocating. I feel myself sinking into my
bed, drowning in my tears slowly. Everyone seems to have found someone except
for me. 
: stellarsteele:
Here is a preview of my first book ever! I am planning on releasing the full book very soon. Let me know what you think :))).
Prologue
            My name is Eva. I had one boyfriend in high school who turned
out to be a disappointment. After breaking up with him, he kept sending me
creepy messages on social media. I did what any girl would do—I blocked him. 
            I am anxious for another romantic
experience with a different outcome. I thought college would be my chance, but
this pandemic swooped in and fucked everything up.
My ideal is a cute guy who is sensitive and provides me with
unconditional love. I want to have deep conversations with him too. 
Physical appearance isn’t my greatest asset: I am not ugly,
but not gorgeous. Sometimes guys at parties tell me that I’m charming and a
good listener though. I would much rather be kissed than told these things, but
I’ve learned to work with what I have.
I must admit, I’m hard on myself. My roommate Emma has a lot
of hookups and I always feel below her. She still complains about the absence
of dateable guys which makes me feel better about my lack of success. 
I should mention my parents because I am going to be stuck
with them for a while. They are strange as fuck. My dad is a classic nerd and my
mother was wild in college. I’m pretty sure that she did cocaine at a party in
college once. I honestly couldn’t tell you how they ended up together.
I have no idea what to expect from this quarantine. I’m going
to try to be productive and stay positive. Maybe, something good will come out
of this. I’ve already improved my personal hygiene—it’s hard to stay super
hygienic in college. I’ve been eating a lot healthier too since college
cafeterias are no longer part of my daily routine. 
I also have a good excuse for being single. I’m going to take
this time to find out more about myself. Maybe a boyfriend isn’t what I need
right now. 
Although, if a cute guy were to enter my life right now, I am
not sure I would be able to refuse him. Even if he got me infected…
Day 1
            My quarantine hasn’t been too bad so far. I started off by
cleaning my room: I found a lot of dust under my bed and on my windows that
desperately needed attention. My closet was a disaster too. I found a ton of
clothes that haven’t fit me since middle school. 
            After, I went for a run in my
neighborhood and discovered that my neighbors were completely disregarding the social
distancing protocol. I didn’t heckle them or anything for disobeying the rules,
but I was disappointed. You really discover who people really are when the
world goes to shit.
            I laid on my bed for a while and
ended up reading an entire book. I haven’t been committed to a book like that
since the Harry Potter books. I was lowkey impressed with myself. After, I fell
asleep for a couple hours. I have a feeling that naps are going to be a big
part of my daily routine even if I try to resist them. 
            Next, I checked my school email and
discovered that all my classes are moving to a virtual platform called Zoom. I
have no idea how virtual chemistry labs are going to work. Hopefully, my professor
will save everyone the stress and give us all an A.
            I checked my Instagram feed and
ended up making a clever post. I got the most likes I have ever gotten which
was satisfying. I am going to try to be more regular with my social media
posts.
Now, I’m sitting at my desk listening to The Weeknd’s new
album. I love his angelic voice and atmospheric beats. I’m trying to come up
with a list of goals for myself for quarantine: read a book; try to spend more
time with my parents; do yoga 3 times per week; post regularly on social media;
get laid. 
This is probably influenced by The Weeknd’s erotic music, but
sex does sound nice right now. 
            It sounds so nice that I grab
my dildo out of my drawer and take my pants off. I slide it slowly into my
vagina at first and gradually increase the speed. I imagine my ideal guy on top
of me, penetrating me and whispering dirty things in my ear. I am getting so
wet. It is surprising how responsive I am to this little toy. Using my other
hand, I start massaging my clit. Now, I’m forcefully moving the dildo in and
out of my pussy. In my mind, my ideal man is caressing my back and clapping my
cheeks hard as fuck. I start moaning and eventually I come all over my bed
sheets. 
The initial pleasure from the orgasm quickly wears off.
Instead of feeling blissful, I feel ashamed of myself for not finding a man
since high school. The loneliness is suffocating. I feel myself sinking into my
bed, drowning in my tears slowly. Everyone seems to have found someone except
for me. 

                    
                
            

            
            
        

    

    

        
Save

    



        

    

    
    

        

            









    

        
        
        
        
        
        
        
    

    

        stellarsteele:
Here is a preview of my first book ever! I am planning on releasing the full book very soon. Let me know what you think :))).
Prologue
            My name is Eva. I had one boyfriend in high school who turned
out to be a disappointment. After breaking up with him, he kept sending me
creepy messages on social media. I did what any girl would do—I blocked him. 
            I am anxious for another romantic
experience with a different outcome. I thought college would be my chance, but
this pandemic swooped in and fucked everything up.
My ideal is a cute guy who is sensitive and provides me with
unconditional love. I want to have deep conversations with him too. 
Physical appearance isn’t my greatest asset: I am not ugly,
but not gorgeous. Sometimes guys at parties tell me that I’m charming and a
good listener though. I would much rather be kissed than told these things, but
I’ve learned to work with what I have.
I must admit, I’m hard on myself. My roommate Emma has a lot
of hookups and I always feel below her. She still complains about the absence
of dateable guys which makes me feel better about my lack of success. 
I should mention my parents because I am going to be stuck
with them for a while. They are strange as fuck. My dad is a classic nerd and my
mother was wild in college. I’m pretty sure that she did cocaine at a party in
college once. I honestly couldn’t tell you how they ended up together.
I have no idea what to expect from this quarantine. I’m going
to try to be productive and stay positive. Maybe, something good will come out
of this. I’ve already improved my personal hygiene—it’s hard to stay super
hygienic in college. I’ve been eating a lot healthier too since college
cafeterias are no longer part of my daily routine. 
I also have a good excuse for being single. I’m going to take
this time to find out more about myself. Maybe a boyfriend isn’t what I need
right now. 
Although, if a cute guy were to enter my life right now, I am
not sure I would be able to refuse him. Even if he got me infected…
Day 1
            My quarantine hasn’t been too bad so far. I started off by
cleaning my room: I found a lot of dust under my bed and on my windows that
desperately needed attention. My closet was a disaster too. I found a ton of
clothes that haven’t fit me since middle school. 
            After, I went for a run in my
neighborhood and discovered that my neighbors were completely disregarding the social
distancing protocol. I didn’t heckle them or anything for disobeying the rules,
but I was disappointed. You really discover who people really are when the
world goes to shit.
            I laid on my bed for a while and
ended up reading an entire book. I haven’t been committed to a book like that
since the Harry Potter books. I was lowkey impressed with myself. After, I fell
asleep for a couple hours. I have a feeling that naps are going to be a big
part of my daily routine even if I try to resist them. 
            Next, I checked my school email and
discovered that all my classes are moving to a virtual platform called Zoom. I
have no idea how virtual chemistry labs are going to work. Hopefully, my professor
will save everyone the stress and give us all an A.
            I checked my Instagram feed and
ended up making a clever post. I got the most likes I have ever gotten which
was satisfying. I am going to try to be more regular with my social media
posts.
Now, I’m sitting at my desk listening to The Weeknd’s new
album. I love his angelic voice and atmospheric beats. I’m trying to come up
with a list of goals for myself for quarantine: read a book; try to spend more
time with my parents; do yoga 3 times per week; post regularly on social media;
get laid. 
This is probably influenced by The Weeknd’s erotic music, but
sex does sound nice right now. 
            It sounds so nice that I grab
my dildo out of my drawer and take my pants off. I slide it slowly into my
vagina at first and gradually increase the speed. I imagine my ideal guy on top
of me, penetrating me and whispering dirty things in my ear. I am getting so
wet. It is surprising how responsive I am to this little toy. Using my other
hand, I start massaging my clit. Now, I’m forcefully moving the dildo in and
out of my pussy. In my mind, my ideal man is caressing my back and clapping my
cheeks hard as fuck. I start moaning and eventually I come all over my bed
sheets. 
The initial pleasure from the orgasm quickly wears off.
Instead of feeling blissful, I feel ashamed of myself for not finding a man
since high school. The loneliness is suffocating. I feel myself sinking into my
bed, drowning in my tears slowly. Everyone seems to have found someone except
for me. 
: stellarsteele:
Here is a preview of my first book ever! I am planning on releasing the full book very soon. Let me know what you think :))).
Prologue
            My name is Eva. I had one boyfriend in high school who turned
out to be a disappointment. After breaking up with him, he kept sending me
creepy messages on social media. I did what any girl would do—I blocked him. 
            I am anxious for another romantic
experience with a different outcome. I thought college would be my chance, but
this pandemic swooped in and fucked everything up.
My ideal is a cute guy who is sensitive and provides me with
unconditional love. I want to have deep conversations with him too. 
Physical appearance isn’t my greatest asset: I am not ugly,
but not gorgeous. Sometimes guys at parties tell me that I’m charming and a
good listener though. I would much rather be kissed than told these things, but
I’ve learned to work with what I have.
I must admit, I’m hard on myself. My roommate Emma has a lot
of hookups and I always feel below her. She still complains about the absence
of dateable guys which makes me feel better about my lack of success. 
I should mention my parents because I am going to be stuck
with them for a while. They are strange as fuck. My dad is a classic nerd and my
mother was wild in college. I’m pretty sure that she did cocaine at a party in
college once. I honestly couldn’t tell you how they ended up together.
I have no idea what to expect from this quarantine. I’m going
to try to be productive and stay positive. Maybe, something good will come out
of this. I’ve already improved my personal hygiene—it’s hard to stay super
hygienic in college. I’ve been eating a lot healthier too since college
cafeterias are no longer part of my daily routine. 
I also have a good excuse for being single. I’m going to take
this time to find out more about myself. Maybe a boyfriend isn’t what I need
right now. 
Although, if a cute guy were to enter my life right now, I am
not sure I would be able to refuse him. Even if he got me infected…
Day 1
            My quarantine hasn’t been too bad so far. I started off by
cleaning my room: I found a lot of dust under my bed and on my windows that
desperately needed attention. My closet was a disaster too. I found a ton of
clothes that haven’t fit me since middle school. 
            After, I went for a run in my
neighborhood and discovered that my neighbors were completely disregarding the social
distancing protocol. I didn’t heckle them or anything for disobeying the rules,
but I was disappointed. You really discover who people really are when the
world goes to shit.
            I laid on my bed for a while and
ended up reading an entire book. I haven’t been committed to a book like that
since the Harry Potter books. I was lowkey impressed with myself. After, I fell
asleep for a couple hours. I have a feeling that naps are going to be a big
part of my daily routine even if I try to resist them. 
            Next, I checked my school email and
discovered that all my classes are moving to a virtual platform called Zoom. I
have no idea how virtual chemistry labs are going to work. Hopefully, my professor
will save everyone the stress and give us all an A.
            I checked my Instagram feed and
ended up making a clever post. I got the most likes I have ever gotten which
was satisfying. I am going to try to be more regular with my social media
posts.
Now, I’m sitting at my desk listening to The Weeknd’s new
album. I love his angelic voice and atmospheric beats. I’m trying to come up
with a list of goals for myself for quarantine: read a book; try to spend more
time with my parents; do yoga 3 times per week; post regularly on social media;
get laid. 
This is probably influenced by The Weeknd’s erotic music, but
sex does sound nice right now. 
            It sounds so nice that I grab
my dildo out of my drawer and take my pants off. I slide it slowly into my
vagina at first and gradually increase the speed. I imagine my ideal guy on top
of me, penetrating me and whispering dirty things in my ear. I am getting so
wet. It is surprising how responsive I am to this little toy. Using my other
hand, I start massaging my clit. Now, I’m forcefully moving the dildo in and
out of my pussy. In my mind, my ideal man is caressing my back and clapping my
cheeks hard as fuck. I start moaning and eventually I come all over my bed
sheets. 
The initial pleasure from the orgasm quickly wears off.
Instead of feeling blissful, I feel ashamed of myself for not finding a man
since high school. The loneliness is suffocating. I feel myself sinking into my
bed, drowning in my tears slowly. Everyone seems to have found someone except
for me. 

        

            
            

                
                
                    stellarsteele:
Here is a preview of my first book ever! I am planning on releasing the full book very soon. Let me know what you think :))).
Prologue
            My name is Eva. I had one boyfriend in high school who turned
out to be a disappointment. After breaking up with him, he kept sending me
creepy messages on social media. I did what any girl would do—I blocked him. 
            I am anxious for another romantic
experience with a different outcome. I thought college would be my chance, but
this pandemic swooped in and fucked everything up.
My ideal is a cute guy who is sensitive and provides me with
unconditional love. I want to have deep conversations with him too. 
Physical appearance isn’t my greatest asset: I am not ugly,
but not gorgeous. Sometimes guys at parties tell me that I’m charming and a
good listener though. I would much rather be kissed than told these things, but
I’ve learned to work with what I have.
I must admit, I’m hard on myself. My roommate Emma has a lot
of hookups and I always feel below her. She still complains about the absence
of dateable guys which makes me feel better about my lack of success. 
I should mention my parents because I am going to be stuck
with them for a while. They are strange as fuck. My dad is a classic nerd and my
mother was wild in college. I’m pretty sure that she did cocaine at a party in
college once. I honestly couldn’t tell you how they ended up together.
I have no idea what to expect from this quarantine. I’m going
to try to be productive and stay positive. Maybe, something good will come out
of this. I’ve already improved my personal hygiene—it’s hard to stay super
hygienic in college. I’ve been eating a lot healthier too since college
cafeterias are no longer part of my daily routine. 
I also have a good excuse for being single. I’m going to take
this time to find out more about myself. Maybe a boyfriend isn’t what I need
right now. 
Although, if a cute guy were to enter my life right now, I am
not sure I would be able to refuse him. Even if he got me infected…
Day 1
            My quarantine hasn’t been too bad so far. I started off by
cleaning my room: I found a lot of dust under my bed and on my windows that
desperately needed attention. My closet was a disaster too. I found a ton of
clothes that haven’t fit me since middle school. 
            After, I went for a run in my
neighborhood and discovered that my neighbors were completely disregarding the social
distancing protocol. I didn’t heckle them or anything for disobeying the rules,
but I was disappointed. You really discover who people really are when the
world goes to shit.
            I laid on my bed for a while and
ended up reading an entire book. I haven’t been committed to a book like that
since the Harry Potter books. I was lowkey impressed with myself. After, I fell
asleep for a couple hours. I have a feeling that naps are going to be a big
part of my daily routine even if I try to resist them. 
            Next, I checked my school email and
discovered that all my classes are moving to a virtual platform called Zoom. I
have no idea how virtual chemistry labs are going to work. Hopefully, my professor
will save everyone the stress and give us all an A.
            I checked my Instagram feed and
ended up making a clever post. I got the most likes I have ever gotten which
was satisfying. I am going to try to be more regular with my social media
posts.
Now, I’m sitting at my desk listening to The Weeknd’s new
album. I love his angelic voice and atmospheric beats. I’m trying to come up
with a list of goals for myself for quarantine: read a book; try to spend more
time with my parents; do yoga 3 times per week; post regularly on social media;
get laid. 
This is probably influenced by The Weeknd’s erotic music, but
sex does sound nice right now. 
            It sounds so nice that I grab
my dildo out of my drawer and take my pants off. I slide it slowly into my
vagina at first and gradually increase the speed. I imagine my ideal guy on top
of me, penetrating me and whispering dirty things in my ear. I am getting so
wet. It is surprising how responsive I am to this little toy. Using my other
hand, I start massaging my clit. Now, I’m forcefully moving the dildo in and
out of my pussy. In my mind, my ideal man is caressing my back and clapping my
cheeks hard as fuck. I start moaning and eventually I come all over my bed
sheets. 
The initial pleasure from the orgasm quickly wears off.
Instead of feeling blissful, I feel ashamed of myself for not finding a man
since high school. The loneliness is suffocating. I feel myself sinking into my
bed, drowning in my tears slowly. Everyone seems to have found someone except
for me. 
: stellarsteele:
Here is a preview of my first book ever! I am planning on releasing the full book very soon. Let me know what you think :))).
Prologue
            My name is Eva. I had one boyfriend in high school who turned
out to be a disappointment. After breaking up with him, he kept sending me
creepy messages on social media. I did what any girl would do—I blocked him. 
            I am anxious for another romantic
experience with a different outcome. I thought college would be my chance, but
this pandemic swooped in and fucked everything up.
My ideal is a cute guy who is sensitive and provides me with
unconditional love. I want to have deep conversations with him too. 
Physical appearance isn’t my greatest asset: I am not ugly,
but not gorgeous. Sometimes guys at parties tell me that I’m charming and a
good listener though. I would much rather be kissed than told these things, but
I’ve learned to work with what I have.
I must admit, I’m hard on myself. My roommate Emma has a lot
of hookups and I always feel below her. She still complains about the absence
of dateable guys which makes me feel better about my lack of success. 
I should mention my parents because I am going to be stuck
with them for a while. They are strange as fuck. My dad is a classic nerd and my
mother was wild in college. I’m pretty sure that she did cocaine at a party in
college once. I honestly couldn’t tell you how they ended up together.
I have no idea what to expect from this quarantine. I’m going
to try to be productive and stay positive. Maybe, something good will come out
of this. I’ve already improved my personal hygiene—it’s hard to stay super
hygienic in college. I’ve been eating a lot healthier too since college
cafeterias are no longer part of my daily routine. 
I also have a good excuse for being single. I’m going to take
this time to find out more about myself. Maybe a boyfriend isn’t what I need
right now. 
Although, if a cute guy were to enter my life right now, I am
not sure I would be able to refuse him. Even if he got me infected…
Day 1
            My quarantine hasn’t been too bad so far. I started off by
cleaning my room: I found a lot of dust under my bed and on my windows that
desperately needed attention. My closet was a disaster too. I found a ton of
clothes that haven’t fit me since middle school. 
            After, I went for a run in my
neighborhood and discovered that my neighbors were completely disregarding the social
distancing protocol. I didn’t heckle them or anything for disobeying the rules,
but I was disappointed. You really discover who people really are when the
world goes to shit.
            I laid on my bed for a while and
ended up reading an entire book. I haven’t been committed to a book like that
since the Harry Potter books. I was lowkey impressed with myself. After, I fell
asleep for a couple hours. I have a feeling that naps are going to be a big
part of my daily routine even if I try to resist them. 
            Next, I checked my school email and
discovered that all my classes are moving to a virtual platform called Zoom. I
have no idea how virtual chemistry labs are going to work. Hopefully, my professor
will save everyone the stress and give us all an A.
            I checked my Instagram feed and
ended up making a clever post. I got the most likes I have ever gotten which
was satisfying. I am going to try to be more regular with my social media
posts.
Now, I’m sitting at my desk listening to The Weeknd’s new
album. I love his angelic voice and atmospheric beats. I’m trying to come up
with a list of goals for myself for quarantine: read a book; try to spend more
time with my parents; do yoga 3 times per week; post regularly on social media;
get laid. 
This is probably influenced by The Weeknd’s erotic music, but
sex does sound nice right now. 
            It sounds so nice that I grab
my dildo out of my drawer and take my pants off. I slide it slowly into my
vagina at first and gradually increase the speed. I imagine my ideal guy on top
of me, penetrating me and whispering dirty things in my ear. I am getting so
wet. It is surprising how responsive I am to this little toy. Using my other
hand, I start massaging my clit. Now, I’m forcefully moving the dildo in and
out of my pussy. In my mind, my ideal man is caressing my back and clapping my
cheeks hard as fuck. I start moaning and eventually I come all over my bed
sheets. 
The initial pleasure from the orgasm quickly wears off.
Instead of feeling blissful, I feel ashamed of myself for not finding a man
since high school. The loneliness is suffocating. I feel myself sinking into my
bed, drowning in my tears slowly. Everyone seems to have found someone except
for me. 

                    
                
            

            
            
        

    

    

        
Save

    



        

    

    
    

        

            









    

        
        
        
        
        
        
        
    

    

        stellarsteele:
Here is a preview of my first book ever! I am planning on releasing the full book very soon. Let me know what you think :))).
Prologue
            My name is Eva. I had one boyfriend in high school who turned
out to be a disappointment. After breaking up with him, he kept sending me
creepy messages on social media. I did what any girl would do—I blocked him. 
            I am anxious for another romantic
experience with a different outcome. I thought college would be my chance, but
this pandemic swooped in and fucked everything up.
My ideal is a cute guy who is sensitive and provides me with
unconditional love. I want to have deep conversations with him too. 
Physical appearance isn’t my greatest asset: I am not ugly,
but not gorgeous. Sometimes guys at parties tell me that I’m charming and a
good listener though. I would much rather be kissed than told these things, but
I’ve learned to work with what I have.
I must admit, I’m hard on myself. My roommate Emma has a lot
of hookups and I always feel below her. She still complains about the absence
of dateable guys which makes me feel better about my lack of success. 
I should mention my parents because I am going to be stuck
with them for a while. They are strange as fuck. My dad is a classic nerd and my
mother was wild in college. I’m pretty sure that she did cocaine at a party in
college once. I honestly couldn’t tell you how they ended up together.
I have no idea what to expect from this quarantine. I’m going
to try to be productive and stay positive. Maybe, something good will come out
of this. I’ve already improved my personal hygiene—it’s hard to stay super
hygienic in college. I’ve been eating a lot healthier too since college
cafeterias are no longer part of my daily routine. 
I also have a good excuse for being single. I’m going to take
this time to find out more about myself. Maybe a boyfriend isn’t what I need
right now. 
Although, if a cute guy were to enter my life right now, I am
not sure I would be able to refuse him. Even if he got me infected…
Day 1
            My quarantine hasn’t been too bad so far. I started off by
cleaning my room: I found a lot of dust under my bed and on my windows that
desperately needed attention. My closet was a disaster too. I found a ton of
clothes that haven’t fit me since middle school. 
            After, I went for a run in my
neighborhood and discovered that my neighbors were completely disregarding the social
distancing protocol. I didn’t heckle them or anything for disobeying the rules,
but I was disappointed. You really discover who people really are when the
world goes to shit.
            I laid on my bed for a while and
ended up reading an entire book. I haven’t been committed to a book like that
since the Harry Potter books. I was lowkey impressed with myself. After, I fell
asleep for a couple hours. I have a feeling that naps are going to be a big
part of my daily routine even if I try to resist them. 
            Next, I checked my school email and
discovered that all my classes are moving to a virtual platform called Zoom. I
have no idea how virtual chemistry labs are going to work. Hopefully, my professor
will save everyone the stress and give us all an A.
            I checked my Instagram feed and
ended up making a clever post. I got the most likes I have ever gotten which
was satisfying. I am going to try to be more regular with my social media
posts.
Now, I’m sitting at my desk listening to The Weeknd’s new
album. I love his angelic voice and atmospheric beats. I’m trying to come up
with a list of goals for myself for quarantine: read a book; try to spend more
time with my parents; do yoga 3 times per week; post regularly on social media;
get laid. 
This is probably influenced by The Weeknd’s erotic music, but
sex does sound nice right now. 
            It sounds so nice that I grab
my dildo out of my drawer and take my pants off. I slide it slowly into my
vagina at first and gradually increase the speed. I imagine my ideal guy on top
of me, penetrating me and whispering dirty things in my ear. I am getting so
wet. It is surprising how responsive I am to this little toy. Using my other
hand, I start massaging my clit. Now, I’m forcefully moving the dildo in and
out of my pussy. In my mind, my ideal man is caressing my back and clapping my
cheeks hard as fuck. I start moaning and eventually I come all over my bed
sheets. 
The initial pleasure from the orgasm quickly wears off.
Instead of feeling blissful, I feel ashamed of myself for not finding a man
since high school. The loneliness is suffocating. I feel myself sinking into my
bed, drowning in my tears slowly. Everyone seems to have found someone except
for me. 
: stellarsteele:
Here is a preview of my first book ever! I am planning on releasing the full book very soon. Let me know what you think :))).
Prologue
            My name is Eva. I had one boyfriend in high school who turned
out to be a disappointment. After breaking up with him, he kept sending me
creepy messages on social media. I did what any girl would do—I blocked him. 
            I am anxious for another romantic
experience with a different outcome. I thought college would be my chance, but
this pandemic swooped in and fucked everything up.
My ideal is a cute guy who is sensitive and provides me with
unconditional love. I want to have deep conversations with him too. 
Physical appearance isn’t my greatest asset: I am not ugly,
but not gorgeous. Sometimes guys at parties tell me that I’m charming and a
good listener though. I would much rather be kissed than told these things, but
I’ve learned to work with what I have.
I must admit, I’m hard on myself. My roommate Emma has a lot
of hookups and I always feel below her. She still complains about the absence
of dateable guys which makes me feel better about my lack of success. 
I should mention my parents because I am going to be stuck
with them for a while. They are strange as fuck. My dad is a classic nerd and my
mother was wild in college. I’m pretty sure that she did cocaine at a party in
college once. I honestly couldn’t tell you how they ended up together.
I have no idea what to expect from this quarantine. I’m going
to try to be productive and stay positive. Maybe, something good will come out
of this. I’ve already improved my personal hygiene—it’s hard to stay super
hygienic in college. I’ve been eating a lot healthier too since college
cafeterias are no longer part of my daily routine. 
I also have a good excuse for being single. I’m going to take
this time to find out more about myself. Maybe a boyfriend isn’t what I need
right now. 
Although, if a cute guy were to enter my life right now, I am
not sure I would be able to refuse him. Even if he got me infected…
Day 1
            My quarantine hasn’t been too bad so far. I started off by
cleaning my room: I found a lot of dust under my bed and on my windows that
desperately needed attention. My closet was a disaster too. I found a ton of
clothes that haven’t fit me since middle school. 
            After, I went for a run in my
neighborhood and discovered that my neighbors were completely disregarding the social
distancing protocol. I didn’t heckle them or anything for disobeying the rules,
but I was disappointed. You really discover who people really are when the
world goes to shit.
            I laid on my bed for a while and
ended up reading an entire book. I haven’t been committed to a book like that
since the Harry Potter books. I was lowkey impressed with myself. After, I fell
asleep for a couple hours. I have a feeling that naps are going to be a big
part of my daily routine even if I try to resist them. 
            Next, I checked my school email and
discovered that all my classes are moving to a virtual platform called Zoom. I
have no idea how virtual chemistry labs are going to work. Hopefully, my professor
will save everyone the stress and give us all an A.
            I checked my Instagram feed and
ended up making a clever post. I got the most likes I have ever gotten which
was satisfying. I am going to try to be more regular with my social media
posts.
Now, I’m sitting at my desk listening to The Weeknd’s new
album. I love his angelic voice and atmospheric beats. I’m trying to come up
with a list of goals for myself for quarantine: read a book; try to spend more
time with my parents; do yoga 3 times per week; post regularly on social media;
get laid. 
This is probably influenced by The Weeknd’s erotic music, but
sex does sound nice right now. 
            It sounds so nice that I grab
my dildo out of my drawer and take my pants off. I slide it slowly into my
vagina at first and gradually increase the speed. I imagine my ideal guy on top
of me, penetrating me and whispering dirty things in my ear. I am getting so
wet. It is surprising how responsive I am to this little toy. Using my other
hand, I start massaging my clit. Now, I’m forcefully moving the dildo in and
out of my pussy. In my mind, my ideal man is caressing my back and clapping my
cheeks hard as fuck. I start moaning and eventually I come all over my bed
sheets. 
The initial pleasure from the orgasm quickly wears off.
Instead of feeling blissful, I feel ashamed of myself for not finding a man
since high school. The loneliness is suffocating. I feel myself sinking into my
bed, drowning in my tears slowly. Everyone seems to have found someone except
for me. 

        

            
            

                
                
                    stellarsteele:
Here is a preview of my first book ever! I am planning on releasing the full book very soon. Let me know what you think :))).
Prologue
            My name is Eva. I had one boyfriend in high school who turned
out to be a disappointment. After breaking up with him, he kept sending me
creepy messages on social media. I did what any girl would do—I blocked him. 
            I am anxious for another romantic
experience with a different outcome. I thought college would be my chance, but
this pandemic swooped in and fucked everything up.
My ideal is a cute guy who is sensitive and provides me with
unconditional love. I want to have deep conversations with him too. 
Physical appearance isn’t my greatest asset: I am not ugly,
but not gorgeous. Sometimes guys at parties tell me that I’m charming and a
good listener though. I would much rather be kissed than told these things, but
I’ve learned to work with what I have.
I must admit, I’m hard on myself. My roommate Emma has a lot
of hookups and I always feel below her. She still complains about the absence
of dateable guys which makes me feel better about my lack of success. 
I should mention my parents because I am going to be stuck
with them for a while. They are strange as fuck. My dad is a classic nerd and my
mother was wild in college. I’m pretty sure that she did cocaine at a party in
college once. I honestly couldn’t tell you how they ended up together.
I have no idea what to expect from this quarantine. I’m going
to try to be productive and stay positive. Maybe, something good will come out
of this. I’ve already improved my personal hygiene—it’s hard to stay super
hygienic in college. I’ve been eating a lot healthier too since college
cafeterias are no longer part of my daily routine. 
I also have a good excuse for being single. I’m going to take
this time to find out more about myself. Maybe a boyfriend isn’t what I need
right now. 
Although, if a cute guy were to enter my life right now, I am
not sure I would be able to refuse him. Even if he got me infected…
Day 1
            My quarantine hasn’t been too bad so far. I started off by
cleaning my room: I found a lot of dust under my bed and on my windows that
desperately needed attention. My closet was a disaster too. I found a ton of
clothes that haven’t fit me since middle school. 
            After, I went for a run in my
neighborhood and discovered that my neighbors were completely disregarding the social
distancing protocol. I didn’t heckle them or anything for disobeying the rules,
but I was disappointed. You really discover who people really are when the
world goes to shit.
            I laid on my bed for a while and
ended up reading an entire book. I haven’t been committed to a book like that
since the Harry Potter books. I was lowkey impressed with myself. After, I fell
asleep for a couple hours. I have a feeling that naps are going to be a big
part of my daily routine even if I try to resist them. 
            Next, I checked my school email and
discovered that all my classes are moving to a virtual platform called Zoom. I
have no idea how virtual chemistry labs are going to work. Hopefully, my professor
will save everyone the stress and give us all an A.
            I checked my Instagram feed and
ended up making a clever post. I got the most likes I have ever gotten which
was satisfying. I am going to try to be more regular with my social media
posts.
Now, I’m sitting at my desk listening to The Weeknd’s new
album. I love his angelic voice and atmospheric beats. I’m trying to come up
with a list of goals for myself for quarantine: read a book; try to spend more
time with my parents; do yoga 3 times per week; post regularly on social media;
get laid. 
This is probably influenced by The Weeknd’s erotic music, but
sex does sound nice right now. 
            It sounds so nice that I grab
my dildo out of my drawer and take my pants off. I slide it slowly into my
vagina at first and gradually increase the speed. I imagine my ideal guy on top
of me, penetrating me and whispering dirty things in my ear. I am getting so
wet. It is surprising how responsive I am to this little toy. Using my other
hand, I start massaging my clit. Now, I’m forcefully moving the dildo in and
out of my pussy. In my mind, my ideal man is caressing my back and clapping my
cheeks hard as fuck. I start moaning and eventually I come all over my bed
sheets. 
The initial pleasure from the orgasm quickly wears off.
Instead of feeling blissful, I feel ashamed of myself for not finding a man
since high school. The loneliness is suffocating. I feel myself sinking into my
bed, drowning in my tears slowly. Everyone seems to have found someone except
for me. 
: stellarsteele:
Here is a preview of my first book ever! I am planning on releasing the full book very soon. Let me know what you think :))).
Prologue
            My name is Eva. I had one boyfriend in high school who turned
out to be a disappointment. After breaking up with him, he kept sending me
creepy messages on social media. I did what any girl would do—I blocked him. 
            I am anxious for another romantic
experience with a different outcome. I thought college would be my chance, but
this pandemic swooped in and fucked everything up.
My ideal is a cute guy who is sensitive and provides me with
unconditional love. I want to have deep conversations with him too. 
Physical appearance isn’t my greatest asset: I am not ugly,
but not gorgeous. Sometimes guys at parties tell me that I’m charming and a
good listener though. I would much rather be kissed than told these things, but
I’ve learned to work with what I have.
I must admit, I’m hard on myself. My roommate Emma has a lot
of hookups and I always feel below her. She still complains about the absence
of dateable guys which makes me feel better about my lack of success. 
I should mention my parents because I am going to be stuck
with them for a while. They are strange as fuck. My dad is a classic nerd and my
mother was wild in college. I’m pretty sure that she did cocaine at a party in
college once. I honestly couldn’t tell you how they ended up together.
I have no idea what to expect from this quarantine. I’m going
to try to be productive and stay positive. Maybe, something good will come out
of this. I’ve already improved my personal hygiene—it’s hard to stay super
hygienic in college. I’ve been eating a lot healthier too since college
cafeterias are no longer part of my daily routine. 
I also have a good excuse for being single. I’m going to take
this time to find out more about myself. Maybe a boyfriend isn’t what I need
right now. 
Although, if a cute guy were to enter my life right now, I am
not sure I would be able to refuse him. Even if he got me infected…
Day 1
            My quarantine hasn’t been too bad so far. I started off by
cleaning my room: I found a lot of dust under my bed and on my windows that
desperately needed attention. My closet was a disaster too. I found a ton of
clothes that haven’t fit me since middle school. 
            After, I went for a run in my
neighborhood and discovered that my neighbors were completely disregarding the social
distancing protocol. I didn’t heckle them or anything for disobeying the rules,
but I was disappointed. You really discover who people really are when the
world goes to shit.
            I laid on my bed for a while and
ended up reading an entire book. I haven’t been committed to a book like that
since the Harry Potter books. I was lowkey impressed with myself. After, I fell
asleep for a couple hours. I have a feeling that naps are going to be a big
part of my daily routine even if I try to resist them. 
            Next, I checked my school email and
discovered that all my classes are moving to a virtual platform called Zoom. I
have no idea how virtual chemistry labs are going to work. Hopefully, my professor
will save everyone the stress and give us all an A.
            I checked my Instagram feed and
ended up making a clever post. I got the most likes I have ever gotten which
was satisfying. I am going to try to be more regular with my social media
posts.
Now, I’m sitting at my desk listening to The Weeknd’s new
album. I love his angelic voice and atmospheric beats. I’m trying to come up
with a list of goals for myself for quarantine: read a book; try to spend more
time with my parents; do yoga 3 times per week; post regularly on social media;
get laid. 
This is probably influenced by The Weeknd’s erotic music, but
sex does sound nice right now. 
            It sounds so nice that I grab
my dildo out of my drawer and take my pants off. I slide it slowly into my
vagina at first and gradually increase the speed. I imagine my ideal guy on top
of me, penetrating me and whispering dirty things in my ear. I am getting so
wet. It is surprising how responsive I am to this little toy. Using my other
hand, I start massaging my clit. Now, I’m forcefully moving the dildo in and
out of my pussy. In my mind, my ideal man is caressing my back and clapping my
cheeks hard as fuck. I start moaning and eventually I come all over my bed
sheets. 
The initial pleasure from the orgasm quickly wears off.
Instead of feeling blissful, I feel ashamed of myself for not finding a man
since high school. The loneliness is suffocating. I feel myself sinking into my
bed, drowning in my tears slowly. Everyone seems to have found someone except
for me. 

                    
                
            

            
            
        

    

    

        
Save

    



        

    

    
    

        

            









    

        
        
        
        
        
        
        
    

    

        omgcheckplease:

★ Notes on Year 4, Comic 26 - Check, Please ★In the summer of 2013, I was fully mourning my completed time as an undergraduate at Yale. One of the college’s traditional songs—which they strategically have students sing during their first weeks as Yalies and then again at the moment we’re conferred our degrees—goes like this:Bright College years, with pleasure rife,The shortest, gladdest years of life;How swiftly are ye gliding by!Oh, why doth time so quickly fly?Et cetera. The first time you sing it, you mumble the words and don’t know a single person around you. The last time you sing it, wearing the mortarboard and gown, you’ve got the lyrics memorized and you’re surrounded by some of the most important people in your life.That summer, with “How bright will seem, through mem’ry’s haze/ Those happy, golden, bygone days!” still ringing in my ears, I started CHECK, PLEASE. The comic’s first panels emerged on an ancient laptop, through a borrowed bamboo tablet, and on a free drawing program called gnu-IMPShop. I had no plan. I wanted to explore my newfound fascination with hockey and share silly cartoons on Tumblr. But unconsciously, I also wanted to pour the nostalgia of those bright college years into the Haus, Faber, Samwell, and Bitty’s story. I wanted to bottle up those moments where we grow and change and fall down and pick ourselves back up. Drawing CHECK, PLEASE was how I revisited those experiences and how I sifted through the bittersweet feeling of concluding something I loved. Perhaps this is why finishing CHECK, PLEASE calls back those same emotions. Just as Bitty would bake affection into a pie, I might have encoded into CHECK, PLEASE the heartfelt fondness I had for my time in college, the love of the friends I made there, and the gratitude I have for my own growth.I have always found it easier to express gratitude face to face. And even though I would not have gotten to meet all of you, the greatest downside of being unable to participate in a book tour is that I can’t say thanks in person. I could write a thousand words, yet they couldn’t replace a high five at a bookstore signing or a handshake at a convention. I could write the blog post to end all blog posts, but it’s not the same as yelling with you about an episode or chatting about a fandom we both happen be in. For me, it’s those moments that somehow equate to my abundant appreciation for you, the reader.I look forward to the day when I can let my actions speak louder than my words!In the meantime: thank you. I am incredibly blessed to get to create a story and then share it. This is all I want to do in life. These characters get to have a readership overflowing with love and enthusiasm for them. This comic, somehow, has found ambassadors. This story gets to be told. Thank you! I’m excited to share with you the unusual, fun, and hopeful narratives I’m working hard to develop.So with that, I’ll sign off on the last blog post! Thank you for reading this comic. Thank you for sharing it with friends. Thank you for caring about Bitty’s story and CHECK, PLEASE.Thank you!John J. Johnson.Just kidding, it’s Ngozi. :^) Tee hee. Bye now!: omgcheckplease:

★ Notes on Year 4, Comic 26 - Check, Please ★In the summer of 2013, I was fully mourning my completed time as an undergraduate at Yale. One of the college’s traditional songs—which they strategically have students sing during their first weeks as Yalies and then again at the moment we’re conferred our degrees—goes like this:Bright College years, with pleasure rife,The shortest, gladdest years of life;How swiftly are ye gliding by!Oh, why doth time so quickly fly?Et cetera. The first time you sing it, you mumble the words and don’t know a single person around you. The last time you sing it, wearing the mortarboard and gown, you’ve got the lyrics memorized and you’re surrounded by some of the most important people in your life.That summer, with “How bright will seem, through mem’ry’s haze/ Those happy, golden, bygone days!” still ringing in my ears, I started CHECK, PLEASE. The comic’s first panels emerged on an ancient laptop, through a borrowed bamboo tablet, and on a free drawing program called gnu-IMPShop. I had no plan. I wanted to explore my newfound fascination with hockey and share silly cartoons on Tumblr. But unconsciously, I also wanted to pour the nostalgia of those bright college years into the Haus, Faber, Samwell, and Bitty’s story. I wanted to bottle up those moments where we grow and change and fall down and pick ourselves back up. Drawing CHECK, PLEASE was how I revisited those experiences and how I sifted through the bittersweet feeling of concluding something I loved. Perhaps this is why finishing CHECK, PLEASE calls back those same emotions. Just as Bitty would bake affection into a pie, I might have encoded into CHECK, PLEASE the heartfelt fondness I had for my time in college, the love of the friends I made there, and the gratitude I have for my own growth.I have always found it easier to express gratitude face to face. And even though I would not have gotten to meet all of you, the greatest downside of being unable to participate in a book tour is that I can’t say thanks in person. I could write a thousand words, yet they couldn’t replace a high five at a bookstore signing or a handshake at a convention. I could write the blog post to end all blog posts, but it’s not the same as yelling with you about an episode or chatting about a fandom we both happen be in. For me, it’s those moments that somehow equate to my abundant appreciation for you, the reader.I look forward to the day when I can let my actions speak louder than my words!In the meantime: thank you. I am incredibly blessed to get to create a story and then share it. This is all I want to do in life. These characters get to have a readership overflowing with love and enthusiasm for them. This comic, somehow, has found ambassadors. This story gets to be told. Thank you! I’m excited to share with you the unusual, fun, and hopeful narratives I’m working hard to develop.So with that, I’ll sign off on the last blog post! Thank you for reading this comic. Thank you for sharing it with friends. Thank you for caring about Bitty’s story and CHECK, PLEASE.Thank you!John J. Johnson.Just kidding, it’s Ngozi. :^) Tee hee. Bye now!
        

            
            

                
                
                    omgcheckplease:

★ Notes on Year 4, Comic 26 - Check, Please ★In the summer of 2013, I was fully mourning my completed time as an undergraduate at Yale. One of the college’s traditional songs—which they strategically have students sing during their first weeks as Yalies and then again at the moment we’re conferred our degrees—goes like this:Bright College years, with pleasure rife,The shortest, gladdest years of life;How swiftly are ye gliding by!Oh, why doth time so quickly fly?Et cetera. The first time you sing it, you mumble the words and don’t know a single person around you. The last time you sing it, wearing the mortarboard and gown, you’ve got the lyrics memorized and you’re surrounded by some of the most important people in your life.That summer, with “How bright will seem, through mem’ry’s haze/ Those happy, golden, bygone days!” still ringing in my ears, I started CHECK, PLEASE. The comic’s first panels emerged on an ancient laptop, through a borrowed bamboo tablet, and on a free drawing program called gnu-IMPShop. I had no plan. I wanted to explore my newfound fascination with hockey and share silly cartoons on Tumblr. But unconsciously, I also wanted to pour the nostalgia of those bright college years into the Haus, Faber, Samwell, and Bitty’s story. I wanted to bottle up those moments where we grow and change and fall down and pick ourselves back up. Drawing CHECK, PLEASE was how I revisited those experiences and how I sifted through the bittersweet feeling of concluding something I loved. Perhaps this is why finishing CHECK, PLEASE calls back those same emotions. Just as Bitty would bake affection into a pie, I might have encoded into CHECK, PLEASE the heartfelt fondness I had for my time in college, the love of the friends I made there, and the gratitude I have for my own growth.I have always found it easier to express gratitude face to face. And even though I would not have gotten to meet all of you, the greatest downside of being unable to participate in a book tour is that I can’t say thanks in person. I could write a thousand words, yet they couldn’t replace a high five at a bookstore signing or a handshake at a convention. I could write the blog post to end all blog posts, but it’s not the same as yelling with you about an episode or chatting about a fandom we both happen be in. For me, it’s those moments that somehow equate to my abundant appreciation for you, the reader.I look forward to the day when I can let my actions speak louder than my words!In the meantime: thank you. I am incredibly blessed to get to create a story and then share it. This is all I want to do in life. These characters get to have a readership overflowing with love and enthusiasm for them. This comic, somehow, has found ambassadors. This story gets to be told. Thank you! I’m excited to share with you the unusual, fun, and hopeful narratives I’m working hard to develop.So with that, I’ll sign off on the last blog post! Thank you for reading this comic. Thank you for sharing it with friends. Thank you for caring about Bitty’s story and CHECK, PLEASE.Thank you!John J. Johnson.Just kidding, it’s Ngozi. :^) Tee hee. Bye now!: omgcheckplease:

★ Notes on Year 4, Comic 26 - Check, Please ★In the summer of 2013, I was fully mourning my completed time as an undergraduate at Yale. One of the college’s traditional songs—which they strategically have students sing during their first weeks as Yalies and then again at the moment we’re conferred our degrees—goes like this:Bright College years, with pleasure rife,The shortest, gladdest years of life;How swiftly are ye gliding by!Oh, why doth time so quickly fly?Et cetera. The first time you sing it, you mumble the words and don’t know a single person around you. The last time you sing it, wearing the mortarboard and gown, you’ve got the lyrics memorized and you’re surrounded by some of the most important people in your life.That summer, with “How bright will seem, through mem’ry’s haze/ Those happy, golden, bygone days!” still ringing in my ears, I started CHECK, PLEASE. The comic’s first panels emerged on an ancient laptop, through a borrowed bamboo tablet, and on a free drawing program called gnu-IMPShop. I had no plan. I wanted to explore my newfound fascination with hockey and share silly cartoons on Tumblr. But unconsciously, I also wanted to pour the nostalgia of those bright college years into the Haus, Faber, Samwell, and Bitty’s story. I wanted to bottle up those moments where we grow and change and fall down and pick ourselves back up. Drawing CHECK, PLEASE was how I revisited those experiences and how I sifted through the bittersweet feeling of concluding something I loved. Perhaps this is why finishing CHECK, PLEASE calls back those same emotions. Just as Bitty would bake affection into a pie, I might have encoded into CHECK, PLEASE the heartfelt fondness I had for my time in college, the love of the friends I made there, and the gratitude I have for my own growth.I have always found it easier to express gratitude face to face. And even though I would not have gotten to meet all of you, the greatest downside of being unable to participate in a book tour is that I can’t say thanks in person. I could write a thousand words, yet they couldn’t replace a high five at a bookstore signing or a handshake at a convention. I could write the blog post to end all blog posts, but it’s not the same as yelling with you about an episode or chatting about a fandom we both happen be in. For me, it’s those moments that somehow equate to my abundant appreciation for you, the reader.I look forward to the day when I can let my actions speak louder than my words!In the meantime: thank you. I am incredibly blessed to get to create a story and then share it. This is all I want to do in life. These characters get to have a readership overflowing with love and enthusiasm for them. This comic, somehow, has found ambassadors. This story gets to be told. Thank you! I’m excited to share with you the unusual, fun, and hopeful narratives I’m working hard to develop.So with that, I’ll sign off on the last blog post! Thank you for reading this comic. Thank you for sharing it with friends. Thank you for caring about Bitty’s story and CHECK, PLEASE.Thank you!John J. Johnson.Just kidding, it’s Ngozi. :^) Tee hee. Bye now!
                    
                
            

            
                
                
omgcheckplease:

★ Notes on Year 4, Comic 26 - Check, Please ★In the summer of 2013, I was fully mourning my completed time as an undergr...

                
            
            
        

    

    

        
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        prettyeyezciya:
jess-curious:

dynastylnoire:

hugochillingsworth:

onlyblackgirl:


bruddabois:


sobeitjay:


catmasterfunk:

thehighpriestofreverseracism:
This is beautiful

i will literally never not reblog this.

do people really say that


Yea I’ve heard people say that shit


Yes, they say it all the time.


http://instagram.com/miryamlumpini
Here’s her account, her tattoos are so fantastic to look at.

reblogging for the tattoo artists IG to be boosted

I keep seeing this post and I’ve gotta speak up on it, because that isn’t a good example of color on dark skin. 
I’m a tattoo artist, and I’ve had a bunch of clients come in saying they were told dark skin can’t take any color whatsoever, which is bullshit. The long and short of it is dark skin can take plenty of color, provided it isn’t too light.
Tattoos look best when they’re fresh because the ink is still on the top layer of open skin. As the skin heals over the tattoo, the color gets less vibrant and defined. This is true of anybody of any skin tone. Tattoo pigments tend to act a lot like watercolor; they’re not terribly opaque in the skin, meaning that as that tattoo ages, the white will fade into patches of slightly lighter skin, and may disappear altogether, as will lighter colors like yellows and pinks. Many artists consider doing tattoos entirely or mostly in white ink to be irresponsible for that reason, and use white ink very sparingly to create small highlights, in places where even faded ink will add contrast.

Notice how the yellow is all but gone on even the lightest skin, while the deeper reds have stayed. And that isn’t even factoring in sun exposure, how often the skin is submerged in water, friction, or how the skin in the area bends and flexes. I know extremely pale people who lost all the color in their tattoos in 5 years due to a variety of those factors; I’m pale as they come, and the yellow in my oldest tattoo is only 2 years old and already super faded. 
Color that lasts a long time is darker and more saturated than the skin it’s in.

See how the butterfly is still noticeably purple, and stands out in all the skin tones?
Teals, yellows, pinks and whites photograph beautifully in dark skin, but ultimately don’t have longevity as tattoos. Dark skin, however, can still take reds, blues, greens, purples, and browns beautifully! The best way to make color vivid in any skin is to put it in a strong black outline; tattoos like the one below will look like bruises as they age, and the fading color doesn’t have structured black to contrast and frame it.

Here’s some color on dark skin that will age well!
The yellows in this tattoo are very saturated and framed in lots of solid black; even if they fade, the fish will stay nice and vibrant.
Similarly, the white in this tattoo will definitely lighten, but the dark reds and blacks will hold the tattoo together very well.
Tl;dr, have a solid black outline, make sure the colors you pick are darker/more saturated than your own skin, and don’t rely too heavily on white. These are basic tattoo principles that can and should be used when deciding on any tattoo, regardless of skintone. Hope it helps!


Reblogging for the amazing fucking information I just received on tattoos
: prettyeyezciya:
jess-curious:

dynastylnoire:

hugochillingsworth:

onlyblackgirl:


bruddabois:


sobeitjay:


catmasterfunk:

thehighpriestofreverseracism:
This is beautiful

i will literally never not reblog this.

do people really say that


Yea I’ve heard people say that shit


Yes, they say it all the time.


http://instagram.com/miryamlumpini
Here’s her account, her tattoos are so fantastic to look at.

reblogging for the tattoo artists IG to be boosted

I keep seeing this post and I’ve gotta speak up on it, because that isn’t a good example of color on dark skin. 
I’m a tattoo artist, and I’ve had a bunch of clients come in saying they were told dark skin can’t take any color whatsoever, which is bullshit. The long and short of it is dark skin can take plenty of color, provided it isn’t too light.
Tattoos look best when they’re fresh because the ink is still on the top layer of open skin. As the skin heals over the tattoo, the color gets less vibrant and defined. This is true of anybody of any skin tone. Tattoo pigments tend to act a lot like watercolor; they’re not terribly opaque in the skin, meaning that as that tattoo ages, the white will fade into patches of slightly lighter skin, and may disappear altogether, as will lighter colors like yellows and pinks. Many artists consider doing tattoos entirely or mostly in white ink to be irresponsible for that reason, and use white ink very sparingly to create small highlights, in places where even faded ink will add contrast.

Notice how the yellow is all but gone on even the lightest skin, while the deeper reds have stayed. And that isn’t even factoring in sun exposure, how often the skin is submerged in water, friction, or how the skin in the area bends and flexes. I know extremely pale people who lost all the color in their tattoos in 5 years due to a variety of those factors; I’m pale as they come, and the yellow in my oldest tattoo is only 2 years old and already super faded. 
Color that lasts a long time is darker and more saturated than the skin it’s in.

See how the butterfly is still noticeably purple, and stands out in all the skin tones?
Teals, yellows, pinks and whites photograph beautifully in dark skin, but ultimately don’t have longevity as tattoos. Dark skin, however, can still take reds, blues, greens, purples, and browns beautifully! The best way to make color vivid in any skin is to put it in a strong black outline; tattoos like the one below will look like bruises as they age, and the fading color doesn’t have structured black to contrast and frame it.

Here’s some color on dark skin that will age well!
The yellows in this tattoo are very saturated and framed in lots of solid black; even if they fade, the fish will stay nice and vibrant.
Similarly, the white in this tattoo will definitely lighten, but the dark reds and blacks will hold the tattoo together very well.
Tl;dr, have a solid black outline, make sure the colors you pick are darker/more saturated than your own skin, and don’t rely too heavily on white. These are basic tattoo principles that can and should be used when deciding on any tattoo, regardless of skintone. Hope it helps!


Reblogging for the amazing fucking information I just received on tattoos

        

            
            

                
                
                    prettyeyezciya:
jess-curious:

dynastylnoire:

hugochillingsworth:

onlyblackgirl:


bruddabois:


sobeitjay:


catmasterfunk:

thehighpriestofreverseracism:
This is beautiful

i will literally never not reblog this.

do people really say that


Yea I’ve heard people say that shit


Yes, they say it all the time.


http://instagram.com/miryamlumpini
Here’s her account, her tattoos are so fantastic to look at.

reblogging for the tattoo artists IG to be boosted

I keep seeing this post and I’ve gotta speak up on it, because that isn’t a good example of color on dark skin. 
I’m a tattoo artist, and I’ve had a bunch of clients come in saying they were told dark skin can’t take any color whatsoever, which is bullshit. The long and short of it is dark skin can take plenty of color, provided it isn’t too light.
Tattoos look best when they’re fresh because the ink is still on the top layer of open skin. As the skin heals over the tattoo, the color gets less vibrant and defined. This is true of anybody of any skin tone. Tattoo pigments tend to act a lot like watercolor; they’re not terribly opaque in the skin, meaning that as that tattoo ages, the white will fade into patches of slightly lighter skin, and may disappear altogether, as will lighter colors like yellows and pinks. Many artists consider doing tattoos entirely or mostly in white ink to be irresponsible for that reason, and use white ink very sparingly to create small highlights, in places where even faded ink will add contrast.

Notice how the yellow is all but gone on even the lightest skin, while the deeper reds have stayed. And that isn’t even factoring in sun exposure, how often the skin is submerged in water, friction, or how the skin in the area bends and flexes. I know extremely pale people who lost all the color in their tattoos in 5 years due to a variety of those factors; I’m pale as they come, and the yellow in my oldest tattoo is only 2 years old and already super faded. 
Color that lasts a long time is darker and more saturated than the skin it’s in.

See how the butterfly is still noticeably purple, and stands out in all the skin tones?
Teals, yellows, pinks and whites photograph beautifully in dark skin, but ultimately don’t have longevity as tattoos. Dark skin, however, can still take reds, blues, greens, purples, and browns beautifully! The best way to make color vivid in any skin is to put it in a strong black outline; tattoos like the one below will look like bruises as they age, and the fading color doesn’t have structured black to contrast and frame it.

Here’s some color on dark skin that will age well!
The yellows in this tattoo are very saturated and framed in lots of solid black; even if they fade, the fish will stay nice and vibrant.
Similarly, the white in this tattoo will definitely lighten, but the dark reds and blacks will hold the tattoo together very well.
Tl;dr, have a solid black outline, make sure the colors you pick are darker/more saturated than your own skin, and don’t rely too heavily on white. These are basic tattoo principles that can and should be used when deciding on any tattoo, regardless of skintone. Hope it helps!


Reblogging for the amazing fucking information I just received on tattoos
: prettyeyezciya:
jess-curious:

dynastylnoire:

hugochillingsworth:

onlyblackgirl:


bruddabois:


sobeitjay:


catmasterfunk:

thehighpriestofreverseracism:
This is beautiful

i will literally never not reblog this.

do people really say that


Yea I’ve heard people say that shit


Yes, they say it all the time.


http://instagram.com/miryamlumpini
Here’s her account, her tattoos are so fantastic to look at.

reblogging for the tattoo artists IG to be boosted

I keep seeing this post and I’ve gotta speak up on it, because that isn’t a good example of color on dark skin. 
I’m a tattoo artist, and I’ve had a bunch of clients come in saying they were told dark skin can’t take any color whatsoever, which is bullshit. The long and short of it is dark skin can take plenty of color, provided it isn’t too light.
Tattoos look best when they’re fresh because the ink is still on the top layer of open skin. As the skin heals over the tattoo, the color gets less vibrant and defined. This is true of anybody of any skin tone. Tattoo pigments tend to act a lot like watercolor; they’re not terribly opaque in the skin, meaning that as that tattoo ages, the white will fade into patches of slightly lighter skin, and may disappear altogether, as will lighter colors like yellows and pinks. Many artists consider doing tattoos entirely or mostly in white ink to be irresponsible for that reason, and use white ink very sparingly to create small highlights, in places where even faded ink will add contrast.

Notice how the yellow is all but gone on even the lightest skin, while the deeper reds have stayed. And that isn’t even factoring in sun exposure, how often the skin is submerged in water, friction, or how the skin in the area bends and flexes. I know extremely pale people who lost all the color in their tattoos in 5 years due to a variety of those factors; I’m pale as they come, and the yellow in my oldest tattoo is only 2 years old and already super faded. 
Color that lasts a long time is darker and more saturated than the skin it’s in.

See how the butterfly is still noticeably purple, and stands out in all the skin tones?
Teals, yellows, pinks and whites photograph beautifully in dark skin, but ultimately don’t have longevity as tattoos. Dark skin, however, can still take reds, blues, greens, purples, and browns beautifully! The best way to make color vivid in any skin is to put it in a strong black outline; tattoos like the one below will look like bruises as they age, and the fading color doesn’t have structured black to contrast and frame it.

Here’s some color on dark skin that will age well!
The yellows in this tattoo are very saturated and framed in lots of solid black; even if they fade, the fish will stay nice and vibrant.
Similarly, the white in this tattoo will definitely lighten, but the dark reds and blacks will hold the tattoo together very well.
Tl;dr, have a solid black outline, make sure the colors you pick are darker/more saturated than your own skin, and don’t rely too heavily on white. These are basic tattoo principles that can and should be used when deciding on any tattoo, regardless of skintone. Hope it helps!


Reblogging for the amazing fucking information I just received on tattoos

                    
                
            

            
            
        

    

    

        
Save

    



        

    

    
    

        

            








        

    

    
    

        

            








        

    

    
    

        

            








        

    

    
    

        

            








        

    

    
    

        

            








        

    

    
    

        

            








        

    

    
    

        

            








        

    

    
    

        

            









    

        
        
        
        
        
        
        
    

    

        shed1nja:
salty-sadness22:

kintatsujo:

pretentioussongtitle:

disease-danger-darkness-silence:

captainroxythefoxy:

e-v-roslyn:

guu:

kuruluv:

catwithaknife:

https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/kzqpd9/heres-an-insane-story-about-a-rogue-music-teacher-cutting-a-kids-hair

what the fuck

i’m just gonna take this post for a moment so i can rant but like
i Hate how entitled adults can feel over a child’s hair!
it started when i was young myself, i wanted a mohawk, but my dad didn’t approve of that look on a “girl”, and insisted i’d regret such a bold cut. at 16 i was finally given full autonomy over my own head.
but then i have a son and everyone around us is trying to keep his hair short. when we finally moved out just me my partner and him, i told him he doesn’t need to get any haircuts he doesn’t want.
so he starts growing it out, it’s still short but coming on mid-length. his teacher makes a point to tell me it’s getting long as if i don’t have eyes. i hear her walking out with him one day talking to him about haircuts, as if to coax him into one. eventually i get child services called on me for ‘forcing a transgender lifestyle’ over what i can only assume is from a combination of me drawing cute ponies on his valentine box and letting him go to school in a ponytail.
he kept it short for awhile after but told me he wanted to grow it out again, so i let him of course. he comes home one day after getting a haircut at his grandpa’s and tells me he didn’t Want the haircut.
i ask why he got it then and learned he was bribed with a promise of a surprise IF he cut his hair.
tl;dr people need to back the hell up off of children and let them have owership of what’s on THEIR body! /rant


Same thing about getting a child to curl or straighten their hair. Or do anything with it. Just let kids have control over their bodies.


This happened to me when I was little too!! Growing up I had naturally tight Shirley Temple curls. The only problem was that you can’t get a hair brush through it if your life depended on it until it grew out over a few years. 
but This One Lady from church decided that leaving my hair messy and curly was child abuse and threatened to call social services on my family every damn time she saw me until one day she was the designated kid watcher and ho boy my momma tells me i came out with tears in my eyes and greasy slicked down hair and that’s where she ends the story because i think my mother beat her ass but yeah.
Leave kids hair alone.

I’m going to be honest, parents who are super-controlling of their children’s hair creep me the fuck out and I’m not entirely certain why except that I get a vague feeling they kind of relegate them to, “annoying talking doll” status.

I loved my daughter’s long blond hair. It was thick and wavy and beautiful but when she told me she wanted it cut short ‘like a boy’(she was four)  I took her to the salon and let her whack it off. 
The stylist was skeptical, ‘are you sure?” and the thing is, she said this to me, not my daughter. So I asked my girl ‘are you sure you want it cut short?’ She was. The hair went. The stylist acted nervous most of the way through like she was waiting for one of us to burst into tears, but it looked cute! And my daughter loved it! (And it’s been short ever since.)

Autonomy over your hair is bodily autonomy and we as a culture need to start holding bodily autonomy as sacred

My family, for years, wouldn’t let me dye/cut my hair really short. I could understand the dye, but the shortest they’d let me go is a bob. They even let me dye my hair before letting me go that short. I’m finally in control of my hair and my hair is one of my favorite things about myself. It’s an easy way to express myself.  
 Let kids do what they want with their hair! Let them have fun with their hair before they’re told to grow up and have ‘professional’ hair! 

My mom had a monopoly over my hair. Wouldn’t let me wear it natural, was obsessed with me having flyaways in the front and wouldn’t let me get out of the car in the mornings until they were flat, permed it when I was 10, wouldn’t let me cut it off for years after even though it was really damaged, vocally disapproved when I finally cut it as short as she’d let me.
When I moved out I stopped putting any heat in it and a few years later I cut it all off again. The second cut was my decision alone and it felt like a weight lifted off me, like no one could ever tell me what to do with it again or tell me “I needed it” to be pretty.



My stepfather and his stepfather forced a hair cut on me 10 years ago because they said i was too girly for their tastes.I grew my hair out ever since because ill never go fucking bald again like those two fucking neo nazis: shed1nja:
salty-sadness22:

kintatsujo:

pretentioussongtitle:

disease-danger-darkness-silence:

captainroxythefoxy:

e-v-roslyn:

guu:

kuruluv:

catwithaknife:

https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/kzqpd9/heres-an-insane-story-about-a-rogue-music-teacher-cutting-a-kids-hair

what the fuck

i’m just gonna take this post for a moment so i can rant but like
i Hate how entitled adults can feel over a child’s hair!
it started when i was young myself, i wanted a mohawk, but my dad didn’t approve of that look on a “girl”, and insisted i’d regret such a bold cut. at 16 i was finally given full autonomy over my own head.
but then i have a son and everyone around us is trying to keep his hair short. when we finally moved out just me my partner and him, i told him he doesn’t need to get any haircuts he doesn’t want.
so he starts growing it out, it’s still short but coming on mid-length. his teacher makes a point to tell me it’s getting long as if i don’t have eyes. i hear her walking out with him one day talking to him about haircuts, as if to coax him into one. eventually i get child services called on me for ‘forcing a transgender lifestyle’ over what i can only assume is from a combination of me drawing cute ponies on his valentine box and letting him go to school in a ponytail.
he kept it short for awhile after but told me he wanted to grow it out again, so i let him of course. he comes home one day after getting a haircut at his grandpa’s and tells me he didn’t Want the haircut.
i ask why he got it then and learned he was bribed with a promise of a surprise IF he cut his hair.
tl;dr people need to back the hell up off of children and let them have owership of what’s on THEIR body! /rant


Same thing about getting a child to curl or straighten their hair. Or do anything with it. Just let kids have control over their bodies.


This happened to me when I was little too!! Growing up I had naturally tight Shirley Temple curls. The only problem was that you can’t get a hair brush through it if your life depended on it until it grew out over a few years. 
but This One Lady from church decided that leaving my hair messy and curly was child abuse and threatened to call social services on my family every damn time she saw me until one day she was the designated kid watcher and ho boy my momma tells me i came out with tears in my eyes and greasy slicked down hair and that’s where she ends the story because i think my mother beat her ass but yeah.
Leave kids hair alone.

I’m going to be honest, parents who are super-controlling of their children’s hair creep me the fuck out and I’m not entirely certain why except that I get a vague feeling they kind of relegate them to, “annoying talking doll” status.

I loved my daughter’s long blond hair. It was thick and wavy and beautiful but when she told me she wanted it cut short ‘like a boy’(she was four)  I took her to the salon and let her whack it off. 
The stylist was skeptical, ‘are you sure?” and the thing is, she said this to me, not my daughter. So I asked my girl ‘are you sure you want it cut short?’ She was. The hair went. The stylist acted nervous most of the way through like she was waiting for one of us to burst into tears, but it looked cute! And my daughter loved it! (And it’s been short ever since.)

Autonomy over your hair is bodily autonomy and we as a culture need to start holding bodily autonomy as sacred

My family, for years, wouldn’t let me dye/cut my hair really short. I could understand the dye, but the shortest they’d let me go is a bob. They even let me dye my hair before letting me go that short. I’m finally in control of my hair and my hair is one of my favorite things about myself. It’s an easy way to express myself.  
 Let kids do what they want with their hair! Let them have fun with their hair before they’re told to grow up and have ‘professional’ hair! 

My mom had a monopoly over my hair. Wouldn’t let me wear it natural, was obsessed with me having flyaways in the front and wouldn’t let me get out of the car in the mornings until they were flat, permed it when I was 10, wouldn’t let me cut it off for years after even though it was really damaged, vocally disapproved when I finally cut it as short as she’d let me.
When I moved out I stopped putting any heat in it and a few years later I cut it all off again. The second cut was my decision alone and it felt like a weight lifted off me, like no one could ever tell me what to do with it again or tell me “I needed it” to be pretty.



My stepfather and his stepfather forced a hair cut on me 10 years ago because they said i was too girly for their tastes.I grew my hair out ever since because ill never go fucking bald again like those two fucking neo nazis
        

            
            

                
                
                    shed1nja:
salty-sadness22:

kintatsujo:

pretentioussongtitle:

disease-danger-darkness-silence:

captainroxythefoxy:

e-v-roslyn:

guu:

kuruluv:

catwithaknife:

https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/kzqpd9/heres-an-insane-story-about-a-rogue-music-teacher-cutting-a-kids-hair

what the fuck

i’m just gonna take this post for a moment so i can rant but like
i Hate how entitled adults can feel over a child’s hair!
it started when i was young myself, i wanted a mohawk, but my dad didn’t approve of that look on a “girl”, and insisted i’d regret such a bold cut. at 16 i was finally given full autonomy over my own head.
but then i have a son and everyone around us is trying to keep his hair short. when we finally moved out just me my partner and him, i told him he doesn’t need to get any haircuts he doesn’t want.
so he starts growing it out, it’s still short but coming on mid-length. his teacher makes a point to tell me it’s getting long as if i don’t have eyes. i hear her walking out with him one day talking to him about haircuts, as if to coax him into one. eventually i get child services called on me for ‘forcing a transgender lifestyle’ over what i can only assume is from a combination of me drawing cute ponies on his valentine box and letting him go to school in a ponytail.
he kept it short for awhile after but told me he wanted to grow it out again, so i let him of course. he comes home one day after getting a haircut at his grandpa’s and tells me he didn’t Want the haircut.
i ask why he got it then and learned he was bribed with a promise of a surprise IF he cut his hair.
tl;dr people need to back the hell up off of children and let them have owership of what’s on THEIR body! /rant


Same thing about getting a child to curl or straighten their hair. Or do anything with it. Just let kids have control over their bodies.


This happened to me when I was little too!! Growing up I had naturally tight Shirley Temple curls. The only problem was that you can’t get a hair brush through it if your life depended on it until it grew out over a few years. 
but This One Lady from church decided that leaving my hair messy and curly was child abuse and threatened to call social services on my family every damn time she saw me until one day she was the designated kid watcher and ho boy my momma tells me i came out with tears in my eyes and greasy slicked down hair and that’s where she ends the story because i think my mother beat her ass but yeah.
Leave kids hair alone.

I’m going to be honest, parents who are super-controlling of their children’s hair creep me the fuck out and I’m not entirely certain why except that I get a vague feeling they kind of relegate them to, “annoying talking doll” status.

I loved my daughter’s long blond hair. It was thick and wavy and beautiful but when she told me she wanted it cut short ‘like a boy’(she was four)  I took her to the salon and let her whack it off. 
The stylist was skeptical, ‘are you sure?” and the thing is, she said this to me, not my daughter. So I asked my girl ‘are you sure you want it cut short?’ She was. The hair went. The stylist acted nervous most of the way through like she was waiting for one of us to burst into tears, but it looked cute! And my daughter loved it! (And it’s been short ever since.)

Autonomy over your hair is bodily autonomy and we as a culture need to start holding bodily autonomy as sacred

My family, for years, wouldn’t let me dye/cut my hair really short. I could understand the dye, but the shortest they’d let me go is a bob. They even let me dye my hair before letting me go that short. I’m finally in control of my hair and my hair is one of my favorite things about myself. It’s an easy way to express myself.  
 Let kids do what they want with their hair! Let them have fun with their hair before they’re told to grow up and have ‘professional’ hair! 

My mom had a monopoly over my hair. Wouldn’t let me wear it natural, was obsessed with me having flyaways in the front and wouldn’t let me get out of the car in the mornings until they were flat, permed it when I was 10, wouldn’t let me cut it off for years after even though it was really damaged, vocally disapproved when I finally cut it as short as she’d let me.
When I moved out I stopped putting any heat in it and a few years later I cut it all off again. The second cut was my decision alone and it felt like a weight lifted off me, like no one could ever tell me what to do with it again or tell me “I needed it” to be pretty.



My stepfather and his stepfather forced a hair cut on me 10 years ago because they said i was too girly for their tastes.I grew my hair out ever since because ill never go fucking bald again like those two fucking neo nazis: shed1nja:
salty-sadness22:

kintatsujo:

pretentioussongtitle:

disease-danger-darkness-silence:

captainroxythefoxy:

e-v-roslyn:

guu:

kuruluv:

catwithaknife:

https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/kzqpd9/heres-an-insane-story-about-a-rogue-music-teacher-cutting-a-kids-hair

what the fuck

i’m just gonna take this post for a moment so i can rant but like
i Hate how entitled adults can feel over a child’s hair!
it started when i was young myself, i wanted a mohawk, but my dad didn’t approve of that look on a “girl”, and insisted i’d regret such a bold cut. at 16 i was finally given full autonomy over my own head.
but then i have a son and everyone around us is trying to keep his hair short. when we finally moved out just me my partner and him, i told him he doesn’t need to get any haircuts he doesn’t want.
so he starts growing it out, it’s still short but coming on mid-length. his teacher makes a point to tell me it’s getting long as if i don’t have eyes. i hear her walking out with him one day talking to him about haircuts, as if to coax him into one. eventually i get child services called on me for ‘forcing a transgender lifestyle’ over what i can only assume is from a combination of me drawing cute ponies on his valentine box and letting him go to school in a ponytail.
he kept it short for awhile after but told me he wanted to grow it out again, so i let him of course. he comes home one day after getting a haircut at his grandpa’s and tells me he didn’t Want the haircut.
i ask why he got it then and learned he was bribed with a promise of a surprise IF he cut his hair.
tl;dr people need to back the hell up off of children and let them have owership of what’s on THEIR body! /rant


Same thing about getting a child to curl or straighten their hair. Or do anything with it. Just let kids have control over their bodies.


This happened to me when I was little too!! Growing up I had naturally tight Shirley Temple curls. The only problem was that you can’t get a hair brush through it if your life depended on it until it grew out over a few years. 
but This One Lady from church decided that leaving my hair messy and curly was child abuse and threatened to call social services on my family every damn time she saw me until one day she was the designated kid watcher and ho boy my momma tells me i came out with tears in my eyes and greasy slicked down hair and that’s where she ends the story because i think my mother beat her ass but yeah.
Leave kids hair alone.

I’m going to be honest, parents who are super-controlling of their children’s hair creep me the fuck out and I’m not entirely certain why except that I get a vague feeling they kind of relegate them to, “annoying talking doll” status.

I loved my daughter’s long blond hair. It was thick and wavy and beautiful but when she told me she wanted it cut short ‘like a boy’(she was four)  I took her to the salon and let her whack it off. 
The stylist was skeptical, ‘are you sure?” and the thing is, she said this to me, not my daughter. So I asked my girl ‘are you sure you want it cut short?’ She was. The hair went. The stylist acted nervous most of the way through like she was waiting for one of us to burst into tears, but it looked cute! And my daughter loved it! (And it’s been short ever since.)

Autonomy over your hair is bodily autonomy and we as a culture need to start holding bodily autonomy as sacred

My family, for years, wouldn’t let me dye/cut my hair really short. I could understand the dye, but the shortest they’d let me go is a bob. They even let me dye my hair before letting me go that short. I’m finally in control of my hair and my hair is one of my favorite things about myself. It’s an easy way to express myself.  
 Let kids do what they want with their hair! Let them have fun with their hair before they’re told to grow up and have ‘professional’ hair! 

My mom had a monopoly over my hair. Wouldn’t let me wear it natural, was obsessed with me having flyaways in the front and wouldn’t let me get out of the car in the mornings until they were flat, permed it when I was 10, wouldn’t let me cut it off for years after even though it was really damaged, vocally disapproved when I finally cut it as short as she’d let me.
When I moved out I stopped putting any heat in it and a few years later I cut it all off again. The second cut was my decision alone and it felt like a weight lifted off me, like no one could ever tell me what to do with it again or tell me “I needed it” to be pretty.



My stepfather and his stepfather forced a hair cut on me 10 years ago because they said i was too girly for their tastes.I grew my hair out ever since because ill never go fucking bald again like those two fucking neo nazis
                    
                
            

            
            
        

    

    

        
Save

    



        

    

    


    
	

        
	

    




                    

                

                

                    




    

        
        

            
            

              
            

        

        
        
        

            

            
            
                
                    
                        

                            

                                
                                
                                
                            

                            
                            

                                
                                    Why Bluetooth is so great (and so terrible): A story told via memes
                                
                            

                            
                        

                    
                
            
                
                    
                        

                            

                                
                                
                                
                            

                            
                            

                                
                                    20 Situations Every College Student Experiences, As Told By Totally-Relatable Gossip Girl Memes
                                
                            

                            
                        

                    
                
            
                
                    
                        

                            

                                
                            

                            
                            

                                
                                    How To Know If You're Racist, Told In Memes