After the contest is finished, it will e sealed and unable to be submitted to and the next contest will be opened. These MUST be within deviantART policyĬontests The current contest folder will always be open. Meme, television screenshots, photomanipulation, and demotivational posters. Preferably translated into English either in the page or artists’ comments (THANKS).įan Fiction Any written Shaggy/Velma work. They can be together as a couple, or just a picture of the characters by themselves.Ĭomic Pages Any comic strips or doujinshi pages. Stamps and Icons Animated icons or stamps featuring support of Velma, Shaggy, or the Shaggy/Velma coupling.Īnimations Any animation (flash, not avatars) or meme.Ĭosplay Any pictures/photographs of live people in Scooby Doo costumes. This includes them with the children and the kids by themselves. This is Velma or Shaggy the other members of Mystery Incorporated or others in a group or friendship setting.įamily and Children Any pictures of children of Velma and Shaggy. Velma Dinkley All traditional/digital artwork of Velma Dinkley by herself. She and Paul are no longer married but remain on good terms, working together to co-parent their son. Shaggy Rogers All traditional/digital artwork of Shaggy by himself. This does NOTinclude colorized manga or screenshots. She squinted her eyes and grabbed her keys to drive me.įeatured Any digital or traditional artwork of the Velma /Shaggy. "Because mom, the 60's were over half a century ago. Why don't you wear one of those skirts I bought you?" asked my Mom. I headed to the kitchen for my whole grain cereal and toast. I got out of bed and got dressed, wearing my favorite orange sweatshirt I got for band last year. The sun had beat me, I would have to cherish the rays of light as the days were getting shorter and there would be darkness in the mornings. Reluctantly I turned off the alarm and sat up in bed. But I had to get up, had to turn in a project for Honors Chemistry, had to survive another day in P.E., had to live up to my reputation as the kid with the 3rd highest GPA in the 11th grade. Today felt like a "hit the snooze, stay in bed" kind of day, as every single Monday did. Through reconstructing a fragmented trauma from a larger occurrence, the complete experience may be saved with appropriate sensations then learning through the softness of understanding accrues, which creates a future guide to engender stability and emotional health.I lay awake after the alarm went off, listening to the incessant beeping. The spirit of narrative therapy is the reconstruction of identity by generating alternative possible world semantics: to embrace the sissy boy as the sweet boy and the expansiveness that comes from non-gender conformity. I borrow on traditional modes of therapeutic practice adapting it to the visual frame. I attempt to respond to the complex evolving nexus where does a child begin to give power away, and then ultimately how someone else being in control becomes the comfortable threat around every corner. Eman, Yukisiro Arte, Arino Hiroshi, Tamano Kedama, Gomadoufu, Son Yohsyu. I work to reclaim the landscape of the sissy boy by understanding how the memories of events long past capture themselves inside the imaging of the mind how that capturing manipulates the physical and internal landscape of the psychosomatic home, and the embodiment of those stories. Sissy Boy Sweet seeks to confound the hegemony of masculinity that defines the viable traits of manhood, which cracks perception to become the social norms of hypermasculinity through readily accessible visual cultural formations such as film, TV, and games. I was terrorized for being a boy others did not want me to be. it flexed in her forearms as she pumped it up and down. she figured this had to be 10 inches lengthy and highly humungous. susan pumped rock hard as she ran her hand up and down the biggest pecker she had even been with. The pathway to get it back is to return in time to images both personal and cultural iconic childhood references, lost family photographs, childhood yearbooks: where children smash against and into each other with smiling faces, flawless and fashioned childhoods. Began masturbating his rock-hard fuckpole. Power is what? Control over the time, space, and bodies of human interaction? Authority over images, photographs and visual frames that confirm how to make sense of the unknown? Giving power away comes effortlessly.
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