#my tablet was being weird as fuck while i was trying to draw this
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Hi I just wanted to say I love your art sm and you actually helped me get back into drawing a ton, for a while I had this weird idea in my brain that I HAD to draw semi realism/realism otherwise every man I drew would be horribly twinkified and I'd never be able to draw the characters I liked, but I just drew my first ever man I'm happy with in a style that isn't semi realism and a lot of it was inspired by the way you don't always close your lines w lineart and don't use a ton of pen pressure sensitivity and your art comes out incredible. Those were things I always did but would try to stop doing because people told me they were stuff you "weren't supposed to do" and it just ended with me being frustrated whenever I drew and hating my art. But seeing you do it and make absolutely gorgeous stuff really gave me that confidence to just say fuck it and do it anyways and I'm starting to actually get in the flow of drawing again, so thank you :)
This is so so cool! I struggled for About Ten Years with not being able to line in a way I liked, and I’m so glad that my way of doing it is inspirational to someone else! I hope you figure it out faster than I did haha.
Style wise, it kinda just happens, I don’t think many people fit super neatly into boxes anyway, so don’t stress over it, I definitely don’t know what my style is defined as haha! I thought it was semi realism til I googled it HAHA. I copied artists like makani and coey, reapersun and loish when I was a teenager and it definitely swayed my style!
Also I relate extremely to not really vibing with how other artists do lines. For me personally I THINK its because I think in shapes and not lines, and I started out painting and working in tone. Like real life doesn’t have lines, and when you paint it’s generally just varying between soft and hard edges, using the colour and tone to do the lifting for you. It’s way harder to figure out where to put a line, or what things need a line and what doesn't, if you’re not used to thinking that way.
I definitely ink more like I paint, kind of thinking about planes and shadow or overlap more than the outline? Like I draw the top curve of the cheek, then the jowl, then the chin, it kind of feels like cutting a 3D shape out in the space…? But I think that’s why mine are often choppy haha. In traditional art I always preferred a square brush, which carries over to my preference for minimal width variation on tablet.
Saying that, I *do* sometimes work more with width, though it's still messy and choppy haha. my trick with those is that I always choose a brush that has a fairly consistent minimum width, I can draw with a fairly fixed line, but also press down a little to get the variation when I want it. (As opposed to brushes that kind of go really thin and really thick with little effort, like a brush pen, I just don't have the control...) Below are my main blobby inkers, I can pretty comfortably draw a fixed width face, but I can make it wider if I want.
Anyway I went off on a tangent, I hope you can make art in ways that feel natural to you! And I hope making art brings you joy!
Some artists I love the lines of are linnea sterte, steven sugar, momopachi, jadenvargen, artharakka, beidak-art, pien-art, wombrion!
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Hi Ira! If I remember right, you mentioned that you bought an arm mount for your tablet for use at your desk. Do you have any recommendations? I'm trying to get a "dream office" list together and honestly my neck would appreciate a break from all the shrimping I do while I draw. Have a lovely day! 💜
i can definitely recommend the one i use, because i love it and have had no problems with it, but as a heads up i've never used any other arm mounts before so i can't give any accurate insight on whether it's better/worse than others!
that being said, i'm using a gas spring mount, and especially if you have or intend to get a large/heavy screen tablet, i really recommend it. the way the gas spring arm works is basically when setting it up you can adjust the amount of like, pneumatic force/resistance offered by the central support of the arm to be exactly matched to the weight of the tablet monitor (this sounds technical but is really easy, u just follow the instructions in the setup manual), and then basically the tablet will just Stay wherever you move it -- barely requires u to apply any force at all, and no fiddling with loosening and tightening a bunch of knobs whenever you want to make an adjustment, which has been the experience i've had with cheaper arm mounts for stuff like microphones etc!!! i'm sure there are non-gas-spring mounts that are somewhat easily adjustable, but my experience with the gas spring one so far has been that it's SO easy that i don't even have to think about it. i move mine a lot so i can sit different ways, angle the tablet surface based on the level of detail i'm working at, etc and it's also really nice to be able to just swing it completely out of the way and tuck the tablet away to the side when i'm done drawing digitally and want to free up my desk; if the arm was sticky or rigid or required Any extra steps to readjust stuff i think i would get annoyed really fast.
(if my office was not such a fucking disaster rn i would take some pics so you could see how i have it set up and some of the ways i can move it around. unfortunately it is a fucking disaster. maybe i'll get a chance sometime and i'll loop back to this!!)
it also feels really sturdy, there's an extremely tiny bit of wobble when i'm drawing bc i have a tendency to push really hard sometimes and that made me a little nervous on the first day but i don't even notice it now (and the wobble seems to just be from general/necessary flex in the arm overall, not a certain joint or component of the clamp being loose or lacking integrity). i would definitely recommend looking at reviews and carefully picking something solid; u will make urself miserable if you're not confident that your arm can Hold your very expensive and precious tablet, or if the clamp is wobbling on your desk or whatever. also, MEASURE THE SIDE OF YOUR DESK and try to find dimension info to make sure the clamp on whatever arm you're getting will actually fit!! i have a weird desk that has a kind of thick inset bit on the underside/edges, and a lot of standard clamps do not fit over it; i was lucky enough that the one that came with my tablet was adjustable enough to fit, but it would really suck to order an arm and then find out it's incompatible with your desk.
i can't seem to find a listing for the exact mount i use -- sticker on the side says huanuo. i got it bundled with my huion when i bought it, so here's just a link to a similar bundle; it looks a little different than the one i got, but this amazon listing for a gas spring mount from the same brand looks the same, so i think i just got a version that doesn't have the cable management loops on the bottom.
ANYWAY that's about all i can think to say -- like i said, this is the only arm mount i've ever used, so if anyone else wants to chime in with info or experiences abt other varieties that would be great!! i hope this is helpful, gl getting your dream office together :D
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Gou has an older brother, right? What happens to him later on? Did Gou ever resent him for insulting him and being cold to him?
First of all, I'm sorry for the delay in answering your questions. I'm busy with commissions and now my tablet cable is broken so I'm waiting for the new one to arrive. I did some drawings for this post, but they look ugly, I'm so rusty for traditional art so don't mind how weird they look!! Secondly, thank you for sending an ask about it, I struggle a bit to post details of my characters' stories, so this kind of question is very important to me.
Okay so, It's hard to explain correctly what will happen to him due to the lack of characters posted yet. (I ended up taking a break due to burnout and now my Mugen No Kagi stuff is late!! But I have tons of dudes and girls to post very soon.)
Gou's brother is an antagonist that I created so that Gou's backstory wouldn't feel so empty. He doesn't have a name (and I don't intend to give him one); he simply serves to add depth and cause events that will impact the stories of the main characters. An abusive older brother who thinks he can do whatever he wants because he has a respected status in the Japanese imperial army (He's an Officer). In fact he is just very bitter about the things that have happened in his life and takes it out on people.
He also feels very burdened having full responsibility for his younger brother, and knows that if Gou fails, it will be his fault.
Regarding Gou's feelings towards him, I can say that Gou would definitely like to receive affection in some way, but as his life has been hard since his birth and he has practically never felt real affection from his family, he understands that his brother's way of demanding a lot from him is just a concern so he doesn't end up failing and ruining the family reputation.
(The blade cuts on Gou's face were actually made during katana training with his brother) the cut is also mirrored, but who cares?
Gou see his brother as an extremely exemplary person, and want to be an officer like him, or at least an important soldier. If his brother is mad at him for any reason, he understands that there is something wrong with himself, so he is always trying to be the "perfect young brother".
His brother imposes a lot of rules in the house, so Gou's routine boils down to: going to school, returning home, taking care of the corpses and doing daily chores. When he's done he spends the rest of the afternoon and night doing his stuff and reuniting with the club.
Gou's brother knows that he has a girlfriend (wait for her), and also knows that he is a strange child, but he doesn't really care about it at first and have no idea what really happens. (When he's off work, he basically watches television and listens to the radio all day while Gou does his chores. Sometimes he spends the day with a woman he has romantic interests in.)
Eventually, Gou will start to disobey some rules and return to the house after days and this will greatly irritate his brother who will be bothered by Gou's strange behavior. He will also notice strange smells on him, and will soon discover a pile of stolen skulls and creepy stuff Inside Gou's room.
He will then start following Gou to find out what he is doing while outside, and will find out about the occult club and the graves desecration.
What I plan for him is an unexpected encounter with Akumu during a fucked up moment, and Akumu ends up killing him (Eventually this will be clearer?? I don't have many details about what his end will be as I might change my mind, so take this with a grain of salt! )
You can actually read more about Gou in his Toyhouse page.
btw bonus
#art#my art#drawing#oc#original character#Oc:Gou#ask#mugen no kagi#historical#historical oc#traditional illustration#traditional art#dark#aesthetic#gore#blood#violence#uniform#gakuran#long post#everythingnicespiceandsugar#sketch#sketches#doodle#military#wwii#wwii art
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I am, as usual, late lol, but Y'KNOW. This is gonna be a long, rambly post lol, sorry, I have a lot of thoughts.
2023 was a weird year for me, artwise. When it began I was still deep in my Art Block From Hell, which had begun in mid-2021 and lasted the entirety of 2022.
Being in the thick of such a ridiculously suffocating art block, for TWO AND A HALF YEARS, is like... I can't describe how fucking life-draining it is. It felt like something was fundamentally wrong with me -- like a part of me, which used to be as effortless as breathing or blinking my eyes, had ceased to function altogether. It wasn't just a regular art block, it was a complete identity crisis. I could no longer trust the instincts I'd honed over twenty-plus years, could no longer trust my sense of observation or my ability to recreate what I saw. I felt BROKEN, and every single time I picked up my tablet pen it was like I was scraping my insides with a spoon, trying to pick up whatever tiny dregs of dried-up, crusty shit I could manage to puke up onto my canvas. It was fucking painful and humiliating and completely demoralizing.
I'm not really sure what finally got me to do so, but sometime in summer (my memory is shit lol) I downloaded Game Maker, found a video tutorial on youtube, and just... gave myself over to it. I made myself learn how to use Aseprite, and working with pixels, making teeny-tiny little sprites, forced me to work in ways I usually don't. It was a lot harder for me to find the flaws in my art when my art was thirty-five pixels tall and the anatomy was stylized to communicate clear information rather than be a recreation or approximation of reality. I think I really do credit that time working on game dev as the thing that finally cracked loose all the gunk that was keeping me stuck -- I could not perpetuate the cycle of toxicity I'd fallen into because I could barely even conceptualize what 'good' or 'bad' pixel art even looked like lol. I just knew that I was making art, and for the first time in two years, it didn't feel like I was having to desperately beg the emaciated husks of my sense of self-worth and confidence to cooperate while doing so.
(I actually sort of abandoned my foray into game dev around August/September lol, as my adhd-brain, flitting around like a little hummingbird to every dopamine-rich-flower, is wont to do 🥲 But I wanna get back into it at some point!)
From there I had a rush of inspiration for an original project I've been mulling around in my head for years, and I wrote thousands of words in my worldbuilding document, made a map, developed the shell of a possible actual STORY. I returned to sketching. Conventional sketching. It was, at first, largely still comprised of that same demotivating struggle against myself, but I was so deep in the throes of inspiration (after several years of this project laying dormant in my google drive) that I NEEDED to sketch. So I kept going. And after a while, it got....... easier. And I started hating everything I made a little less. I painted, properly, for the first time in years. I stayed up late into the night, even if it meant I would be tired at work the next day, because drawing felt so damn GOOD again and I had missed that feeling so much. All I wanted to do was draw. For the first time in two and a half years, I could finally see the light at the end of the fucking tunnel.
I still don't think I'm quite out of the woods yet. My style is changing, as all artists' styles do over time, and that comes with stumbling adjustments. My confidence is still small and shaky and recovering; I still catch myself second-guessing what I've drawn, and even looking at some of the things here on my grid makes me cringe a little bit for one reason or another.
But compared to both 2021 and 2022, the volume of art, and in particular the volume of art I don't actively despise, is WAY higher, and I'm really really hopeful that that means I'm finding my footing again.
So! Here's to 2024, and to continuing to move towards the light at the end of the tunnel 🙏🌟 I'm gonna try.
#art vs artist#art vs artist 2023#my art#skella's ugly mug#I actually did an art vs artist in 2021 but I only ever posted it on facebook lol I wasn't confident enough to post it anywhere else#purple and orange/yellow continues to be my favorite color pallet apparently#sorry not sorry for being sappy on my own blog <3333#long post
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He's a biter, you know.
details and un-shaded version (and also lineart version) under the cut:
I meant to draw this for peterfel week and made the sketch in like, literally February but didn't get around to finally finishing it until now… lol… well it's done now!!!
i dunno if i love how the dark shaded version turned out...
These are my base colors, but I guess I just felt like spending a couple hours with color overlays and fucking around to make the final moody blue version lol
as an aside the bokeh is a brush by Bunabi/Eriart which you can find as a freebie on her patreon - i saw it and was like omg wait i could use that
...the buildings are also brushes (well the windows are)
anyway here's the lineart
I also used a chain brush of course cause I ain't fuckin drawin all of that lmao —I used a brush from this set, they're pretty nice
😻 there she is oh i also used a diamond stamp 😂 the lesson to learn about me is if i can use a brush for something that would otherwise be tedious and it looks decent i will because i am lazy. unless i only have like a Single instance then I'll usually just draw it but when I have more than one it's either brushes or copy pasting lol
Felicia's outfit is a mix of sources, inspired by both her original costume, with the furry chest (in this case unzippable) as well as obviously more modern sexy latex outfits and so on... but i did NOT give her cleavage to her bellybutton cause I think that's dumb. though. to be fair in this case it would be more justifiable 😂
i love drawing her long long hair (angel medina's fault tbh) (sensational spider-man my beloved...)
rawr 😼
he's trying very hard not to laugh 😂 but he's into it, he's having fun
the muzzle ended up being like multiple designs from photo refs mashed into one so idk... how realistic it is other than the nose-forehead piece which was the same on both my refs. admittedly it looks a little loose but 🤷 still looks nice 😏
claws 😏
I also drew Peter in the classic suit, which I don't normally do, but I was doing more of the comic book look here instead of my own AUs and so on lol
he broke the cuffs so he could touch her butt 🙄 god peter don't you know how much real leather BDSM gear costs (don't tell him)
this new pen tablet is a lot of fun, it's way more comfortable to draw on and the increased pressure sensitivity makes it a lot easier to draw my favorite thing to draw: peter's arm hair 😂😂
the only weird thing is if I press down medium or harder while I'm drawing it... creaks? which is very funny, my old pen did not do that. it really is weirdly like using a felt tip pen or a very fine point marker. except it's plastic.
shoes. it may be classic style but I can never resist giving Peter sporty soles lol I know some people hate that but I just think it looks nice and I can handwave the sticking away as electrostatic forces or something. negative charge. electron transfer. blah blah blah. (in my AU i decided Peter has both electrostatic sticking that encompasses his whole body and ALSO adhesive secretions so if he gets his hands and feet bare i guess he has double the sticking power lol)
shaded versions just cause
tits
i really like drawing latex lol
also if you're wondering why i didn't give peter a boner to match his red face well i have an out and it's that long ago i decided he wears a dance belt under the costume so as not to inflict the outline of his dick and balls on the people of NYC on a daily basis, and dance belts are first of all designed as mentioned to smooth out and hide that outline but also you wear them with everything pointing north and the waistband is like 5 inches wide so i don't think he has to worry about his little buddy escaping LOL (though I'm sure it's possible it would be more visible... i didn't bother trying to google it lol)
really i just didn't feel like trying to draw a boner 😂
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I'm in a weird place in life, story time.
Every hour in my day is spent staring at a screen while sitting in my couch.
Studies? Online. (Currently in vacation so yeah, not even studying)
Friendships? Online, and currently very few (2 to be exact).
Therapy? Online, once a week.
Mental stimulus? Reading random posts on all sort of subjects online.
Do I leave my house for anything, ever? Very, very rarely.
Irl friends/companies? My ex, only him (he's not a monster, I assure you). We see each other every weekend and occasionally after he leaves work on a weekday when I *need* to get out of the house even if it is for just one hour to grab a coffee and watch the street.
I feel like I'm floating in the void of outerspace, completely lost.
Recently, I've been bombarded by my own thoughts of projects I abandoned. If you're reading this, brace yourself, this gonna be long.
From 8 years of age I took great interest on reading, writing, acquiring knowledge (not always useful), learning languages (here am I fluent in English now).
12 years of age, I absolutely loved writing on notebooks (I'd always carry 3 of them EVERYWHERE in my backpack, each for a different topic). I would also spend hours on end drawing anime/mangá style art.
14 years of age, I got my very first tablet and began trying digital art and painting, while maintaining all the rest.
I carried on all of those interests and hobbies until my 15 years of age.
In between 12 and 15, my privacy was breached many times and I got bullied for my art, for my texts, for my attempts creative expression as a whole. I was not one to express verbally already (actual autism, selective mutism), because talking felt unsafe and bullying made that worse. Overtime, artistic and creative expression felt less and less safe.
Until by 15 years of age I got into an abusive relationship and dropped everything. I lost my voice, and what was left of my ability to express myself along with my dignity and self-respect. I just gave up for good on trying to express myself in any way.
Got out of that relationship at 17. Entered another one with an alcoholic, made some attempts at trying to start writing again, on private, password protected journals on a website I won't disclose. Again I was forced to let someone read my stuff and had verbal stones thrown at me.
By 19 I left that relationship, and entered another one.
Healthier one, but not perfect, still with some toxic traits because nobody is perfect he is unable to understand some things about me and is unaware of others, all he knows is I'm traumatized (got PTSD from the 2 previous relationships), mentally fucked and hard to deal with.
[He also has untreated ADHD (which doesn't favor him being able to listen to my long explanations of what's actually going on with me), and a very critical personality (though he means to be constructive, he lacks sense. Both of us think he might be autistic as well as he does identify with it, but he can't focus on learning more about it as he can't for any other psychology or neurodevelopment/neuroscience topic, at least he tried).]
I again tried to recover my interests and means of creative expression through art and stuff, but as a critical designer he'd give his unsolicited opinion and again unknowingly take away my freedom of expression by accident when he was only trying to help, he was unaware on how his comments hit me in a very different way and I was unable to communicate that to him, explain, or make him aware.
That relationship ended by unrelated reasons when I was 22, in May. Just over a year ago. It was very hard to deal with the breakup and he remains as my only in-real-life friendship/social interaction other than my mom and occasionally grandparents.
I am currently 23 years old, I want to try to recover/reclaim my life, my voice, my creative power, creative expression, writing, drawing on paper, doing digital art. I started by beginning in oil painting, my paintings are unfinished and have been sitting in my shelves for months now with no new alterations.
I feel like writing and I know not what to write about because there is this huge block which is something in between a creative block and a sense of danger/unsafe in my chest.
I feel like drawing on paper but I don't even try all the progress I worked so hard on making in my skills between 12 and 15 was totally lost. I don't know what to draw anymore (nothing comes to mind) and when I try it feels like everything is too ugly.
Digital art is even worst. It's worth mentioning I lost any precision I had with a pen or pencil (I also shake a lot due to Anxiety and PTSD).
So I decided to focus on other areas of life, started college online in a unrelated subject, while pursuing this technical degree online I'm also trying entrance exams for another university in a totally different bachelor (psychology) to do both at the same time.
I made projects that would suit well this focus on other areas:
Finishing oil paintings.
Reading Tarot/Sibilla/Lenormand professionally.
Teaching English conversation.
I have not taken a single step forward in any of those. It's like I'm petrified into staring at the computer and doing the same things over and over again:
Studying
Talking to online friends
Browsing random knowledge
Reading random books
I have lost my capability to organize my life/tasks and move things forward, completely. The only thing I'm moving forward is college which is now on break.
The wish to express myself creatively is calling me constantly, yet the block still stops me. The biggest advance I made towards that is rambling about my personal life in this anonymous page which I'm constantly paranoid about being linked to my identity or figured out by anyone in real life (specially my ex who's my only friend, or the closest I got to one. He has my back in a lot of stuff) for no special reason other than the feeling of unsafe exposure.
I will keep on trying to improve my organization. I will keep on trying to regain my power of self-expression, be it artistic, textual, visual, and even someday verbal! I know this will be a long battle, and any support is welcome since I have no means to express to anyone irl (other than my therapist) that I need that support. I must not give up even if any drawbacks shove me straight back in my isolated cave.
I hope someday I'll be able to produce quality art again, in texts or images, and post it here, and eventually somewhere not anonymous. If I get there, I will be proud. I just don't know how to start or what to even try first, but somehow I will figure, wing it! Any advice is welcome.
If you read this far, thank you very much for giving so much attention to this fragment of the story of my life, that truly is much appreciated.
Thank you, Tumblr. This is indeed an amazing website.
#personal#long post#storytime#I shall not give up#never give up#hope#this got long#way too long#way too personal#doing my best#stubborn optimism#tw ptsd#trauma recovery#self expression#creative expression#creative writing#writing community#anxiety#selective mutism
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My OCs Masterlist
I got tired of having to look through my mess of a computer to find drawings and other stuff about old OCs and characters I might wanna use in the future, and I’m bored right now so I figured I’d make a list with all of my important OCs, or at least the ones that mean the most to me.
These are not ALL of my OCs, just the main ones for their respective stories/campaigns. But there’s still a lot, lol. Also I’m not counting Niss for this list, even if she’s an OC in my heart. You can learn more about her in my pinned post anyway.
(Note: Art is either made by me, my partner @pastlight or has been commissioned by various artists)
1)
Metchi
You know how parents say they don’t have a favorite child? Well I do and it’s Metchi. ‘What if someone decided they wanted to do good purely out of spite and had pretty much everything stacked against them?’ I asked myself. ‘What if she was also a grungy trans girl who has no fucking clue what she’s doing and is constantly bickering with the deity inside her head?’ was the next question. And from that, Metchi was born. The willpower to burn a hole through Mt. Coronet yet the resources and energy of someone who considers cigarettes the most effective breakfast.
2)
Nico
He’s my PC from our current (in hiatus) Pokemon tabletop campaign. A Lumiosian street artist and Sky Trainer who enjoys throwing himself off of high places and being completely fucking incomprehensible to all who meet him. The only neurons in his brains are dedicated to serving looks, calling the wind to his command and delivering the most unhinged takes on the nature of human happiness he can think of.
3)
Tulip
‘I would like to make a tragic character whose obsession with the truth will inevitably lead her to ruin’ I thought. ‘Oh, fuck’ Tulip replied. Out of all my stories, hers is currently my favorite from a writing perspective, and I owe a lot of that to Tulip herself, always willing to push and push until something pushes back, because it’s what she thinks she owes to the people who were just as unfortunate as her. And I love her for it.
4)
Hope and Hunter
These two come in a package deal. ‘Small town life-long friendship’ is something I’ve been meaning to try my hand at writing for a while, and though their story is at the very beginning, I like them quite a lot already. A lot of my personal history with friendships and growing up into your twenties is imbued into them, though they are cooler and dumber and more than willing to take those things to their natural extremes.
5)
Ska
Protagonist of my yet in-progress, unnamed visual novel I’m working on. She’s a sheltered Fae changeling with a death sentence hanging over her head, and a desperate desire to do as much stupid shit as possible before something ends up killing her. She has a bat and absolutely sucks at using it, and she’s hopelessly in love with both of her best friends. I love her deeply, and I hope I can share her with everyone soon.
6)
Shadi
Absolute trash human being, possibly the worst woman in Sinnoh, lover of drama and shadow magic and also Dark Souls. What if an older sister was allowed to be as evil as her little heart desired? Well, that’s Shadi. Obviously there’s more to her, but I like making fun of her. I think she’s a funny character on her own right, except when she’s doing horrible shit to my other OCs, which is often. In any case, she’s one of my favorites to write for a reason.
7)
Eatos
Eatos is... weird. They don’t have a set story, they kinda bounce around a few of my works being mysterious and off-putting and tricking people with smoke/illusion magic. They exist in the same universe as Ska, and in that world at least they’re a human with the power of a Fae artifact. I’ll get more of a chance to develop them someday.
8) (Really old drawing, I didn’t even have a tablet back then lol)
Shadi... 2!
Yeah I have a few characters named Shadi, I just really like the name. Anyway this particular Shadi may be my first actual OC, back when I was... fuck, I dunno, fourteen? I don’t know how relatable this is, but she’s the OC that made me think ‘I’m gonna write her story and become a famous fantasy author and write a bunch of books and-’ and you know the drill. That didn’t quite end up happening, but I don’t regret it much. I did write a book, but my creative goals right now are very different from back then, and I’m happy with that. One step at a time. Still, I care a lot about Shadi for basically getting me into writing fiction, and someday I hope I can write a story that’ll serve as thanks for her.
9
Cole
PC for another Pokemon tabletop campaign that unfortunately never progressed much. Which is a shame, because I like this guy, even if he’s so hard to relate to sometimes that I have trouble writing him. He’s nn ex League/army man who now lives peacefully in Pacifidlog alongside his Electrode called Maradona. He loves dogs to a comical degree (the only part about him I understand) and spends most of his time drinking beer, wishing he could drive fast vehicles and helping out Darya, his neighbor and aspiring contest star.
10)
Machi
Uh... yeah, we’re getting into the really old ones. I don’t remember much about Machi other than she was a hired killer and lived with a guy who did all her murder planning for her because the pay was good and he hated his job that much. It was from her story that Eatos came forth, so it’s a shame that they ended up being so much more interesting to me than Machi. I still like her, though.
11)
Tala
Listen, we all gotta have an edgy OC with a sword, and Tala was mine. Another PC for an even older Pokemon tabletop, maybe even THE oldest. I went around from loving him when I created him, to despising him a few years after and now kinda liking him again, just because he’s so ridiculous in his drama queen ways. He almost rivals Niss in that regard. But yeah, cool sword, tragic backstory, crabby personality, the works. What do you want from me? I loved that shit when I was a dumb kid.
Anyway... there are more of them, but these are the main ones I remember. Of course there’s also Reiko and Percy and characters like that, but they’re different kinds of OCs, and I already posted about them before.
No point to this post other than to have them on here for future reference.
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𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. @https-junchi, @https-tzai-cove, @https-celestial-blessing, @https-ethereal-gardens, @https-r0b1n
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠. swearing, mentions of ed/trouble with eating
𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞. headcanons; fluff + funny
[𝐇𝐓𝐓𝐏$ 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 + 𝐪𝐮𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬]
Robin owns a shit ton of plushies and I literally known for it
Junji tends to get new glasses all the time because "it doesn't match the concept" and he ALWAYS complains, she thinks its a pain in the ass
Atlas always makes these weird ass expressions and is the most used member for memes in the fandom
Tzai is one of the only members who has a drivers license and went viral because of a clip from a live where he was singing "Drivers License" very loudly in the car
Serenity will like, walk up to the camera backstage or something and whisper, even if the rest was loud as hell and say "these kids are giving me headaches"
Junji and Atlas went viral (and still does) by making "eating w/ Juni and Atlas"
they both cried big time when they found out the helped out ppl with eds/has trouble with eating
the whole group is known as the ones who fights most often against sexism, homo/transphobia and racism etc., and they all always like, make sure none of their lyric is offending to ANYONE
Robin does weekly v-lives and usually gets in trouble for running away while live-streaming (its always Tzai or Serenity picking them up)
Atlas has this "persona" of being the hot one but like... hes a soft giant, total teddy bear
Tzai always gets fucking interrupted by interviewers and the whole group always like "excuse me, Tzai was talking. You asked the question, listen to the answer." (Slayed)
covered Lady Gagas 'Born this Way' and they were all wearing their flags and shit and just had fun
concerts with these fuckers are so chaotic like, stop.
Robin starts a water fight, Tzai gets involved as the first on, Junji twerks on top of a stool (a prop) while rapping his verse, Serenity as I just staring at the chaos while trying to avoid getting drowned in Robins water and Atlas is making funny faces and weird dances to the camera to see itself on the big screen
had the biggest blast getting to buy things for each other at this one tv show
Serenity got all the ugly and funny ones and oh was he merciless to the others
oh my god, Atlas and Robin is so sassy, its not even funny anymore, get these kids some food and a tablet and shut them up
Junji was allowed to wear a national Nigerian gown at a concert for "nationality day" and eveyerone was like "okay, slay, Nigerian princess"
Robin refused to walk out on stage for like, 10 minutes until Serenity and Atlas dragged him out
the funniest clips of the HTTP$ group is defiantly all the backstage clips and late night lives because holy fuck, they're all drunk on energy drinks and sugar
Serenity and Junji literally falls asleep in each others arms when they're too tired and the others have the hardest time holding their laughs while they draw on their faces
Sometimes, when pressure gets a bit too much, they all huddle up on one bed, all cuddled up in a lump of humans and either crying or sleeping and comforting each other and just- all soft feelings
Serenity and Robin 100% went viral for playing volleyball in an episode of their little show
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Hatsune Miku=your fav= Hatsune Miku. Its a mathematical proof! I was wondering if I should send the goo girl, oh pardon, I have a bit of an accent, but I'm glad it was a hit. I like showing people things. I had a sister who hated touch, got overwhelmed easily, and is bad at communication so I learned to make friends with giving things. I give gifts to people. Unlike a cat it's not because I haven't seen you hunt and am worried you'll starve while seeing you as a weird hairless kitten. Speaking of starving, I met someone online with ARFID and I cannot understand this. Food is a great joy in life for me. I try to understand different perspectives but this one has me stumped! I hope they get more weight TnT. They need to be happy and healthy, damn it! I hate seeing sick people I can't help. At least I try to understand. I don't get people that don't. To some degree. I'm never gonna understand exactly why you are an enby as I'm not trans but your happiness should come before my comprehension. That people do not understand this saddens me. Perhaps I was simply taught well. I hope the future gets better for everyone trans ace and otherwise unfairly given a stink eye. That being said, fuck off worshippers and your ilk. Decided to try to use my phone as a tablet will let you know the results. (Ty for the drawing!! It's not jevil's tomfuckery but seeing Seam Swear hits different. Jevil is going to silly jail for silly crimes where he is forbid from being silly for a million billion years.) I guess you should know of Blue Sky by CAZZETE. It rules.
Giving things is nice!!! I quite like it too
Honestly when it comes to AFRID, whether or not they start eating more food is entirely up to them, so it can take a while or never happen at all! I'm honestly pretty sure I had it as a kid. It took me until I was around 14 to be willing to try more food. And it was entirely because of textures
I'm glad you respect it even if you don't entirely understand it!!! That's important to do
Oo good luck! (Also thank you hehe! I planned to use tomfuckery but shit flowed so much funnier. Jevil can never be in a silly goofy mood again)
I recommend I Couldn't be a Super Cat After All by mafumafu!! It's INCREDIBLY gender for me BFBSJNF
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Haven't written in a while. Honestly it's hard to string thoughts together now without getting distracted halfway through or rambling on forever.
I watched an entire season of RuPaul's Drag Race today. I'd never seen an episode but since watching Dungeons and Drag Queens I have had my curiosity piqued. I don't typically watch reality competition shows (unless they're on Food Network) but I really liked it a lot. It also made me have some thoughts about my wardrobe, and about making things, and generally I feel a little inspired. It's much more creative than I expected and I love that. Also, I love shiny things and colors and I'm trying to learn a bit more grace and femininity.
Pain has been pretty bad lately if I'm honest. The last week or so have been very rough. I turned down company yesterday because I had a fairly traumatic releasing of the contents of my colon in the morning, and it took me all day to not hurt anymore. Hurting constantly is one of the worst things about this. Like the pain when I go to the bathroom is worse, but it goes away. When it just aches all day and I don't get relief from it, it's hard to even just watch something. It's exhausting. I'm pretty sure yesterday I was nearly totally blocked up. It hurt in weird places and I felt really nauseous beforehand. Nothing has really made me nauseous up til this point. I was a little this morning too, but overall it's been a little better today. I think I need to be really careful about eating when I take my meds, and I definitely don't think jumping in the tub is an option in the morning anymore, the heat made everything way worse.
Home health is coming tomorrow afternoon to get me started on physical therapy, which I am looking forward to a little bit. Anything to get me feeling normal again, please. Everything is so empty right now and I feel lonelier than I think I ever have. The endless shaking my legs do is really getting bothersome. It's like they don't want to hold me up anymore. Even when I'm laying down they shake. And my left knee needs to stop locking up. I've had some really bad scares this week from it doing that. It's also really fucking painful.
I'm still always tired and I really can't do much of anything for myself. It's a challenge to even walk through my apartment to get from my bed to the bathroom. I don't regret moving my bed to my living room; the bedroom in my apartment is too small to fit a queen mattress with anything else, but the extra walking distance is not great when your body is screaming at you and you can't walk very well.
I think I want to take up crocheting again, I could probably do that while laying down. I kinda want a new laptop too, or a tablet so I can maybe draw while lying on my stomach or something. Something not messy that doesn't require too much effort to set up or set aside.
Things are going to get better. I have to believe that they will. It's hard when I'm all alone. And I do have good friends that have been helping as much as they can. But not the ones I expected. I'm pretty sad about that. Haven't seen either of the people who volunteered to be my medical POA in at least a month. Not in person anyway. And one of them maybe hates me now. And that's making me really upset. I can't think about it or I cry. It's easy to make me cry anyway (shit I did it like 5 times watching Drag Race and twice in the bathroom today at least just from feeling bad and being afraid) but I don't really want to cry. I don't want to have these stupid hot flashes either but that's what we get for cooking my ovaries with a big radioactive beam I guess.
I was tired a little while ago and I thought if I wrote out my thoughts it'd help me relax a bit more so I could sleep, but now I'm just overly warm and sad. And my neighbor across the hall is being really loud. And I didn't get any of the stuff done today that I wanted to get done, except for taking a shower. And then I had a hot flash anyway and was drenched in sweat again a couple hours later.
I hate this all so much. I just want to feel normal again. I want to drive and see my friends and go do things and enjoy my life. Because this isn't life. It's just waiting, either for good news or for death. And while I have a lot of patience with humans, I don't have the most for feeling bad and being alone all the time.
Anyway. I'm gonna mindlessly scroll for a bit now and hope something bores me enough that I get at least a couple hours of sleep.
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doijg oc infodump hour now bc i havent done it previously 4 a while.... huge tw, see in tags....featuring fune aitsuko & natsuki(unknown lasg name)
so guys yk fune & natsuki the 2 ocs i talk ab the least n are basically copy n paste versons of eachother n therefore are besg friends????? SO UHM HERES A. (HEAD)CANONS B. A CANONICAL N SAD STORYLINE & C. NEW OC DROP TEASER
a. (HEAD)CANONS
1. they tease eachother constantly. but its intellectual sounding as FUCK. instead of going "youre short" they go "you appear to be vertically challenged, i love how it matches your mental state" 2. they do little study sessions together n they eat tea and biscuits n fake british accents 3. they have a pet snake together. his name is jerryl. fune has him on weekends. you will not recieve any other details. 4. fune spends most of her time staring at her drawing tablet n natsuki just spits out ideas at her which she WILL make into a poem later 5. fune has a litrle crush on natsuki (canon) but natsuki is oblivious n ir would be rlly funny in like acomedy show its like imagine phineas and feeb and that 1 girlypop 6. they are basically troy and abed(intellect edition)
b. STORYLINE
our story begins in a library.fune is reading n shit n natsuki comes up 2 her n is like "what book r u readinf" n they nerd out n instantly click and then they text and.hang out again n beckme best friends but.natsuki kept being distant n then they eventually moved in 2gether n every other nighr natsuki has someone new in the house n she has a weapon collection n her room is like not whag ud.expect it 2 be like at all considering how timid n shit both her n natsuki r yk?? they have a talk.ab it n irs resolved(hint hint nudge nudge) n anywayz fune keeps finding weird things n hearinf weird things like she finds a crumpled photo of tbem in the trash & sees a glint of like an eye in the closet door but she ignores it n it escalates n fune kicks her out but ir makes ir worse adn nqtsukis begging her to be let back in bur she doesnt and then.theg try to ralk it out in a public space and instead of talking ab shit natsuki talks ab books n her most recent poems n all tbe stuff she loves ab funes mkst recenr art n then funes walkikg to the bus n she thought natsuki got in her car n left already but she DIDNT and she's following her and natsuki taps fune on the shoulder n pulls out a gun but her hands all shaky ad shes crying rlly hard n instead of shootign her she shoots herself n theres a note that reads...."and i hold the gun in my handsand i pull the trigger but where does it point?i don't remember.i love you - natsuki"n funes confused and sad and grieving n then she finds out that natsuki has a bounty on her head bc when she was younger she did a bunch of fucked yp shit in a different country n she fled n didnt want fune 2 find out and couldnt figure out a better way to stop it bc she was worried fune would turn her in but she physicallt couldtn do it so instead yk........she.....yk... n fune is filled with all this regret & shit n js stops everything she xant draw anything other than vent art n cant get out of bed basically can only feed jerryl yk?? BUT then she does a sbit ton of research n stops the bad guys !!!!!! yay !!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (aka i couldnt think of a better way to end it.sorry😓)
BAD ENDINF......natsukis finger is on the trigger, and she pulls. she shoots. it echoes. and she runs. she runs and runs far far away. she runs until her legs give out and shes in the middle of nowhere and shes dropped the gun a while back and shes scared and sad and shit because she wasnt supposed to do that n she sits there and cries until dawn n eventually she recollects herself n just flees again n eventually she dies in like some tiny country with like 50 different names following her
C. cant think of a name. but he is going 2 be besg friends w thag 1 kid on tunelogic n is basically kerenzas brief(platonic) like in paswg. give ideas if u dont mind👺
#camille oc infodump hour#tw suicide#tw death#tw murder#tw gun#tw gun violence#HOLY FUCK THIS IS LONG N ITS STILL SUCH A WIP IM GONNA WRITE NATSUKI MORE IN DEPTH LATER💔#waaa im gonna change their entire designs again too
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12/13/22
Today has been a bit tricky. I noticed that Max's hyperthyroid meds were running very low last night. It's a twist applicator and it has stickers all over it, so it's like... impossible to see what level the ointment is at, and I don't know how to even eyeball the amount. And --- I'm getting frantic. I'm afraid that she's going to run out of meds. I probably wrote about this last night. I ordered overnight delivery, the pharmacy says it shipped and I did 1 day delivery, like I shelled out $30 for that shit... But I can't see tracking info, it just gives me an error. I'm just flying by the seat of my pants here, I am praying it gets here tomorrow before 1PM, or that I even have enough meds for tonight - let alone tomorrow morning, too.
It's the not knowing that gets me. And kicking myself. "I can't believe I didn't think to refill this sooner." "How did I not notice?" "I'm a bad pet parent." "She's going to have to be in physical pain, possibly get more sick, because of my inability to manage my life."
I have no idea why I am so afraid of the criticism of others, no one could kick my ass a fraction as bad as I kick my own ass every day. I don't think anyone has even come close. Like... when people try to make fun of me or mock me or criticize me... I'm not even exaggerating, it sounds comical. It sounds like a Kidz Bop version of an insult. Because inside my head... inside my head is an improv stand-up comedian who's been doing crowd-work in my head for over 30 years. Who knows all the ins and outs of my personality, every weak point, every insecurity, every chink in the armor to slip that dagger in. He rolls nat 20s in his fuckin sleep. So seriously, I have no idea why I give a shit about the superficial, juvenile judgements of outsiders when I have this demon to deal with.
Maybe that's why isolation is so hard for me. It's not being by myself, that's never been an issue, I kinda prefer it in a lot of ways. It's being stuck with that motherfucker. Having the only critique of my work being: "Welp, you just sank like 2-3 hours into polishing this piece of cool green mineral and... your dumb ass decided to use purple Sharpie to mark bevel lines. Purple. Remember color theory? Remember how that's a complimentary color? Like the highest contrast, most out-of-place color you could use? Yeah, did you... um... think to check if the mineral was porous or not? Nope, of course not, why would we do that... Now your hours and hours of work have resulted in a beautiful green mirror-surfaced mineral with big purple splotches soaked into it. Way to piss the day away dude, you could've done wood carving, you could've worked on that weird goat skull project, you could've drawn on your tablet. Now your arm is completely worn out. Way to go. <slow clap>"
When that's the only feedback you get on your work... How long can you keep going?
But with something like this, like caring for a loved one, like medical stuff, executive functioning stuff, life stuff. It's just whole other ball game. And I just feel like a complete sack of shit. Like how the fuck... Okay, you know what, I'm going to give the real second half to that sentence. Not "how the fuck do I keep fucking up so bad." Nope. It's "how the fuck do people keep track of all this shit?" "How do 'normal' people function?" It legit blows my mind, probably the same way it blows their mind that I can draw the way I can. I just can't keep up, I can't keep track of all this stuff. It took me like an hour to just figure out what the hell I was doing for dinner, and I was trying to do something easy. I tried to do Grubhub and just kept getting distracted, then I couldn't make up my mind, then the clock was ticking and I had to order before a specific time, then I think about how expensive this is getting and rabbit-hole on that for a while. Then eventually I'm just like "fuck it, I'm just making ramen, this is dumb." After like an hour of not being able to find anything appealing. It's obnoxious and it's like... every fucking day.
Can you tell I'm stressed out? XD
So... my cat's fate on this is really in the hands of the delivery people. This needs to be an act of faith. I did my best here. And I --- okay, you know what, I'm telling the story.
I used to be on Lamictal. I was on a bunch of different meds, one was some fucking anti-psychotic med they give to people in retirement homes (I was told after I got off it) that I was taking for the side-effects to help me sleep... yeah... Not even gonna tangent on that one, I'm sure you can go on your own personal journey of medical outrage. And I was on a titanic dose of Xanax just for daily functioning. If you want to call it that... All this from a psychiatrist who wore more makeup than any person I've met in my whole life. I was neurotic about my meds. I had the fear of God put in me with a bunch of side-effect scares - serotonin syndrome being one of the biggest, but not the only one. After not being able to move my eyes without vomiting for hours, trauma ground the lesson in my head that you do. not. fuck. with. meds. You take them on time. You do not miss doses. The side effects can be life-threatening, and you don't know how bad it is for you personally until you're there. So... what happened?
I forgot to get my prescription refilled. And it was a Sunday afternoon. I remember it clear as day, it was a cloudy afternoon, it looked like a storm was rolling in from the South. It was summer of 2019, probably around... May or June. It was like 4 in the afternoon, that was when my med time was and I just flat-out did not notice that I need a refill until I opened my med container thing and there was nothing there. I fucking lost my shit. I called every pharmacy I could find, nothing was open. I called places up to like 45 minutes away. I was driving around town while calling these places, saying "I'm in my car right now, I can be there in X minutes." Nothing, no one could help me. I panicked so much, I shit you not, I went to the police station. God, this is so embarrassing, but like... when you don't have any friends and no one picks up the phone, and no professional will help you... and you're afraid for your life... what do you do? I panicked. Maybe I should've gone to the hospital? Nearest one was 40 minutes away. Anyway, they didn't know how to help me either. No duh there, I guess. So eventually I just was out of options and I went home. This part of the story feels weird to tell because... well... in the past, it might have gotten someone into trouble. At least that's what he thought, I disagree, but whatever. I called up an old friend of mine that I recently reconnected with briefly. He mentioned he was on Lamictal at one point, we connected on that. I... asked him if he could spot me one so I didn't go into withdrawal. And, because he worked at a mental health facility (as a like... handyman, but still...) he was unsure if that would be okay. Like... it was weird, and he was afraid he'd get fired for it if anyone found out. He hasn't worked there in a few years so I feel okay telling this now, and it's not like I'm naming him or anything. See how fucking paranoid we all have to be nowadays?! This isn't even a controlled substance!!! Like I really don't think you can abuse Lamictal... But yeah, he bailed me out with one dose so I didn't freak out. And I guess that was like... one of the biggest friend moments I've ever had. Though I wish we could've been less afraid of the cops showing up or some shit. It's so stupid looking back at it, like... all of it. But, this is a big one for me.
So, I'm dealing with a similar story with my cat now... At least, it feels the same. Where, despite my best efforts, I have managed to overlook med details, forget to keep up with them, and I'm praying to any deity that will listen for her to not have to go an extended period of time without the med in her system. But it hits different. See, when it was me... it was fear of mortality, fear of death. With her? It's fear of guilt, of having to live a life with that blood on my hands. In my fucked up imagination, she's already dead from thyroid imbalances somehow cascading and leading to organ failure. And it's all my fault. And I have to live with that survivor's guilt for the rest of my life. Dark as fuck, right?
See, that's why I don't like isolation. I don't have anyone else in the world to say, "Hey, look, it's probably not as bad as you think. Let's do some research on this." So I can feel my feelings fully, which all stem in intensity from how much I care about her, and not deny or suppress them. But also make informed, logical decisions. God fucking damn is it hard to do both at the same time. And I see so many people take this insanely valuable asset - another human perspective, emotional grounding, compassion, comfort, reassurance, support, stuff like that - for granted. It's the piece that's missing for me right now, and I really don't know where to go to find it. I mean that. Instagram? Feels weird. Here? How? Dating apps? Feels even weirder, somehow. At this point in the list... I just start getting really depressed and resign to my current situation.
I wrote to my social worker today. I told him about the ADHD stuff. I tried to keep it brief and ended up writing at least a full page, it's hard to really gauge how much I write in a digital format, I guess that's why they're switching from "pages" to "minutes" as a way of telling how long a read things are nowadays. I'll see how he responds.
I'm afraid I'm just... too fucked up. I struggle with too many things, and I have for too long. The system doesn't seem to be designed to help people like me, I guess. Like... it's supposed to be like a social support system, social services, right? But everyone I talk to just gives me tips on positive self-talk, how to set healthy boundaries with people and encourages me to exercise and meditate. All of which I work on, and none of which are fixing the massive gaping holes in my life like... I've been living out of piles of cardboard boxes for like 6 years. It takes about a week for me to lose my structure and my dishes pile up to the ceiling. I build up my self-confidence into a freight train of motivation, then go to a job interview, feel like I did a great fucking job and then... it goes nowhere. Rarely even a call-back. Same for applications, I write this legendary cover letter, something heartfelt, conversational, personal, real. And I don't even get a fucking "sorry, we're not interested." And I try to set up my own businesses, and somehow... no one can help me with... any of them? Like... at all? It's fucking weird, it's like I'm radioactive. Naw. It's like I'm cursed. It's like I was hexed by the Witch of the Woods and everyone got the memo like 10 minutes before I showed up, so they hide the memo behind their backs and go "hey, _____, nice to meet you!" With a big fake smile that my naïve and insanely emotionally overwhelmed ass reads as completely legit, and then they nod and smile as I do my best to confidently, honestly stroll through the interview. Meanwhile they're checking the clock the whole time, because they made up their mind before I walked in the door.
I feel like no one. Not my family, not my friends, not therapists, not mentors, not potential employers, not potential business partners. No one wants to take a chance on me. And I don't know why. Maybe it's because I have too much to say? Maybe my constantly racing mind is too overwhelming for them? Maybe it's my strong emotions? Maybe they're intimidated by me? I have no idea, this is all 100% speculation.
Can you tell I'm depressed? XD
So yeah, I don't have huge hopes that he will be able to support me in the way I need it. And, despite browsing two dating apps every morning, I feel like if I were to date someone, I would seriously just be giving them a big list of chores. Like... dating me would be a job. Make sure he doesn't forget that the daily alert to start his sleep routine went off in his pocket, but he got distracted and wandered off to dig through a random box for something he hasn't used in 4 years. Make sure he's actually eaten food and drank water today. It's 2AM, tell him to go to bed. I would do these things for a girlfriend in a heartbeat. I mean that sincerely, and I have. I've actually been denied the ability to do that by my ex, due to her pride, and it made me feel like I wasn't allowed to be a good boyfriend. And it sucked. I know how much these and other gestures mean, especially to people like me. Like... it's life-changing. But it still feels like a tall order.
So yeah, difficult day. But I sanded down an agate today - it's really pretty, pink and purple and white - the best I could until my arm wore out, then I played Rimworld, smoked a tiny tiny bit and took a shower, then worked on sanding another piece of that green stuff, I still don't know what it is, I think it's fluorite but it's very grainy and opaque. And I worked on a small triangular piece of reddish... I'm guessing sandstone or something, it was very easy to polish, much more pleasant to work with. And here I am.
I'm gonna dig up a midnight snack. I guess this brain dump was helpful, I don't know, this kinda just felt like my depression jacking off. Like... I'm very conflicted on this. I have a lot of deep gut instincts that have been telling me for a long time that the solution to most of my problems would be to get in a healthy relationship with someone where I can help them in ways that they lack, and they can help me with the things that I struggle with. And every time I float this idea, people look at me like I have 40 heads. Like I should have 20 friends before I even start looking for a girlfriend. Well... who is going to go out and meet people with me?
I have always been the tag-along. Any time I moved, it was because I had a friend there. Any time I went to an event or a party or... anything, really... it was because someone I knew was there. I have always functioned atrociously when I don't have someone else there.
Someone was being really loud in the hallway and decided of all walls to bang against... to do it on mine... Made me jump. Still not used to being in close proximity to other humans. Maybe I don't function atrociously when I'm alone. I function differently. I don't think in social-mode. Because the majority of my experience on a daily level is... internal. It's in my head. It's not interactive. I shift purely into introspective mode. Where, when I'm in regular social interactions, I have outside stimuli to pull me out of my head. When that's absent, I have a tendency to go through gigantic creative growth spurts... I fucking wonder why... but also, all the shit you're seeing here tonight, that runs rampant. Like a cartoon of Halloween or some shit, all my demons and depressions and anxieties and panics and inner-critiques and all that shit are just swooping around and divebombing poor me as I'm just trying to go throughout my day. I think it's a BIG reason why people like me tend to impulsively just jump from relationship to relationship, without even noticing it, without even thinking about it. To avoid that. The alone scaries. Being stuck with their own thoughts. Alone.
So yeah, good night! Sleep tight! XD
I try so hard to end on a good note with these things, or at least a mic drop or something, but yeah. Fuck it. Today is just a weird one. Fingers crossed I get some good sleep, and here's hoping for a better tomorrow.
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(Not So) Casual Friday
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader
Word Count: 4,456
Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad Bod Hotch (it's not a main component but he very much has the tummy here), Pining, Accidentally admitting attraction, Embarrassment, A little angst, Oral sex, Protected sex
Summary: Your best friend Derek finds out about your feelings for Hotch and teases you mercilessly. You can manage it, though, until the first ever Casual Friday, when Hotch shows up to work in a black polo and jeans and you kind of ruin everything. Or maybe you don't? *Requested by anon
Link to A03 or read below!
“Okay, girlie, today’s the day,” Derek says when you set your bag and coffee cup on your desk on Monday morning. You shoot your best friend a tired smile and wonder for the—you’ve worked at the BAU for almost two years, so it’s probably the 500th time—for the 500th time why he has to be such a morning person when you would prefer not to have a conversation until at least 10 AM.
“Today’s the day for what?” you sigh, asking out of obligation, because it’s obvious that’s what he’s waiting for; he smiles, picks up your coffee and hands it to you, which must mean you sound bitchy. You take a grateful sip, close your eyes and exhale through your nose.
“For you to admit to me that you’re in love with Hotch.”
You spit out your coffee—only all over yourself, which is great, wouldn’t want to inconvenience Derek at all—and then cough so hard he has to thump on your back to help clear your airway.
It draws some attention; Hotch comes out of his office, takes a look at the two of you and probably regrets hiring the both of you, then walks down the stairs to make sure you’re okay.
“What happened? You’re wet,” he says a bit gruffly, looking at the coffee all over your chest and sleeves. You glare over at Derek, who’s clearly trying not to laugh.
“Derek made me spill my coffee.” You grab a handful of tissues off your desk and pat at the wet spot, trying to soak up the worst of it, but it’s not salvageable. You’ll have to change your shirt.
“And then you… choked on it?” Hotch asks, to clarify. Derek does laugh at that; the things Hotch is saying happen to have dual meanings, slightly sexual, and now that Derek knows—thinks he knows—about your thing for Hotch, it’s clear he finds it all so hilarious. He’s a twelve year old boy in a grown man’s body.
“Okay, I didn’t spill, I spit,” you correct, looking up at them, and Derek makes an exaggerated face of disapproval.
“Should have swallowed,” he says, trying to sound serious, and you shoot him an irritated look and reach out to slap him in the chest. Asshole.
“Do you need help getting cleaned up?” Hotch’s expression is kind, sweet, but you’d sooner die than have him blot coffee off of your boobs. It would be mortifying, especially in front of Derek.
“No, no, I think I’m okay. Thanks,” you add with a soft smile, and then you reach up and pull your sweater over your head, unzip your go bag, and search for another top.
For some reason, Hotch has a coughing fit scarily similar to the one you just had, and you turn to pat his back like Derek did for you.
“Are you alright?” you ask, looking up into his face, and he nods despite his watering eyes.
“Fine,” he croaks, and he leaves as quickly as he came. You sigh, because it’s not even nine and your day has already been so weird.
You’re wearing a tank top, and thankfully the coffee didn’t get through to that layer, so it’s quick and easy to throw another lightweight sweater over top of it; you ball up the wet one, shove it in the dirty clothes portion of your bag, zip it up and stash it under your desk. Derek looks like he’s having the best day of his life.
“You realize you just undressed in front of Hotch,” he says with a tone you don’t appreciate. You roll your eyes.
“I did not. I had a tank top on underneath.” You almost always wear an undershirt, because you’ve been a cop long enough to know that sometimes your clothes get torn or messed up in the line of duty, and you’re not trying to offer a free show while taking down an unsub. Derek wiggles his eyebrows, points at your chest.
“Yeah, one that put those little boobies on display. His eyes bulged out of his head like a cartoon character.” This time, you punch him in the arm, hard. It’s too goddamn early for this.
“Can you please shut up already? I don’t have a thing for Hotch.”
“Ah, I didn’t say you had a thing, I said you’re in love with him. And I have evidence; lots of it.” You tip your head back, groan, wondering what you did to deserve a best friend who is also such a pain in the ass, and it’s that moment that Hotch chooses to rejoin you; he looks a little flushed, probably from the coughing earlier.
“Uh. We have a case; I know not everyone is here yet, but you can head up to the briefing room, I’ll grab the others when they arrive.”
“Sure thing, sir,” you say easily, grabbing your tablet and what’s left of your coffee; you gesture for Derek and he follows, laughing and shaking his head. “Okay, what is it now? I’m so glad you find me entertaining today.”
“‘Sure thing, sir,’” he says with a high, breathy voice you assume is supposed to mimic yours. “You want his dick so bad.” You narrow your eyes at him as you head upstairs.
“Uh, because I was being respectful? I know that’s a foreign concept for you, the world’s biggest asshole, but you don’t have to read anything into it.” You take your usual seats at the table, pull up the note-taking app on your tablet, and Derek sits back, crosses his arms behind his head.
“Well you’re not calling me ‘sir’, and I’m the sexiest piece in the office, so it’s hard not to read into it.” You look over at him, elbow on the table, chin in the palm of your hand.
“Sexy is subjective, and you don’t do it for me, sorry to break it to you.” He scoffs, laughs, and you laugh too because you both know you see each other as brother and sister, buddies, and fellow former cops, and absolutely nothing else.
“Yeah, I get it, only Hotch does it for you; he’s not my type, but I can see how a young lady like yourself could be drawn to his brooding exterior.”
“I’m not drawn to his exterior!” you practically growl, and then you’re joined by Spencer and JJ.
“Good morning. What’s going on with you two?” JJ asks, loading up the monitors for the debriefing, her eyebrows raised.
“She’s in love with Hotch,” Derek says completely nonchalantly, and you rest your head on the table, on top of your forearms, and sigh.
“She’s what?” JJ’s whole face lights up, and you seriously regret everything.
“I’m not in love with anybody!” you mumble against your arms, and then you sit up, because you’re clearly going to have to defend yourself. “And I’d appreciate it if you quit saying that I am.”
“I told you I have evidence,�� Derek reminds you, leaning back in his chair a little. One swift kick would have him toppling ass over tea kettle, but you’re too nice, even when he’s actively trying to ruin your life. “Shall I go over it while we wait?”
“I’ll be an objective third party,” Spencer says with a brief smile, and you sigh, wave your hand toward Derek.
“Alright, let’s hear it. I’m sure I have a perfectly reasonable explanation for whatever evidence you might think you have.” He grins like this is the moment he’s been waiting for, and you feel a little stupid for encouraging this.
“For one, you always look at him. When I’m delivering a profile, I notice you watching the locals, making sure they understand what we’re going over, since you're the queen of analyzing the micro expressions. But when Hotch is delivering a profile, your eyes are on him the whole time. Same goes for discussing theories on the jet; anyone else, and you’ve got your face in your tablet, scribbling notes, but you always look at him when he speaks.”
Your cheeks get hot. He’s a captivating speaker, is all, with that deep, velvety voice, and you can learn a lot from him, so you pay attention. That’s just being smart.
“Second, you tense when he gets close to you: not like you don’t want him to touch you, but like you’re halfway to jumping him already and trying to control it. I could probably put my hand in your pocket and you wouldn't even flinch, but if he leans over you to point at something you look like you’re about to cream your pants.”
“I have seen that, actually,” JJ offers, and you look over at her, betrayed. Sure, you get a whiff of his clean, crisp cologne, or feel the heat of him at your back, and your body reacts, reminds you that this is your boss and you’re at work and you can’t get turned on by the way he smells, but that’s actually a good thing, not an indicator of feelings or anything.
“Third, there’s something up with you and the gray suits. I can literally tell that he’s wearing one before I even see him, all because of the look on your face. It’s like you’re drunk on the gray suit.”
“Okay, that’s not true,” you say with a roll of your eyes—the gray suits are god tier, but there’s no way you’re that obvious—but it’s Spencer who speaks up, this time.
“You know, I have noticed that. Your pupils tend to be more dilated when his suit is gray or blue than when it’s black.” Fuck. You sigh.
“He barely ever wears the blue. It looks so good on him,” you murmur, and then you snap your eyes shut, cover your face with your hands. “Fuck. This is so embarrassing.”
“To be fair, we are profilers,” Derek says, leaning in to pat your back. “But also to be fair, he’s been a profiler longer than any of us, so if we know, he definitely knows.”
“Not helping, Derek,” you grind out, and then you’re joined by the rest of the team. Penelope takes the seat next to you, leans in with a worried tone of voice.
“Is everything okay?”
“She’s having a small crisis, but she’ll be fine,” JJ says with a smile, and you don’t miss the way Hotch looks you over when she says it, concern in his eyes. “Alright, so we’re headed to Arkansas…”
Later that morning, when you’ve been given your instructions—yours are heading to the crime scene with Emily and Derek—Hotch pulls you out into the hall, rests a gentle hand on your arm.
“Are you alright? JJ mentioned you were having a crisis earlier. This is the first time I’ve been able to get you alone, and I wanted to check on you.” You take a deep breath, look up at him, so handsome in a black suit, white shirt, green tie—he almost never wears a green tie, and you absently think it brings out the more golden tones of his eyes—and smile softly.
“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s really nothing. Personal stuff, and I’m dealing with it.” If by ‘dealing with it’ you mean you’ve been repressing it, shoving it down day in and day out until your feelings are choking you, then yeah, you’re dealing with it. “Thanks for checking, though, that’s kind of you.”
“Of course. I’m here to help in any way I can, if you need me.” Good god, do you need him, emotionally, physically, but that’s fantasy, and this, what he’s offering, is rooted in reality. Good things do happen, but not to you.
“Thanks.” Your voice is weak to your own ears, and he swallows, nods; you see Derek hovering by the door, waiting for you, and you pull away to join him, plastering a smile on your face.
You don’t talk about it again until Friday, and at that point it’s extremely unavoidable.
It’s Casual Friday, newly implemented by the bureau as a way to boost morale, and while it doesn’t really excite you, because you’re fairly casual anyway, others take full advantage of it. Others, including Hotch.
He shows up to work wearing a black polo and dark jeans, his usual watch. It’s easily the most simplistic, basic outfit a man could decide to wear on Casual Friday, but this isn’t just a man, it’s Aaron fucking Hotchner, and so naturally, you lose your damn mind.
It wouldn’t be so bad if the damn polo didn’t fit him perfectly, tight across his shoulders and chest and the little tummy he has that makes you want to be under him so badly, your stomachs pressed together while he thrusts inside you, holding you tightly, his strong thighs working against yours…
“Hello, are you alive in there?” Emily asks, waving her hand in front of your face; the two of you, along with Derek, are in Penelope’s office for lunch while Rossi, Reid, and JJ are out of the office for a seminar. You blink, shake away your thoughts and hope and pray they don’t come back—but they’ll come back, they always do.
“She’s just short circuiting because of Hotch’s Casual Friday look,” Morgan says with a wink, sitting backward in his seat. “She’s been drooling so much I’ve had to follow her around with a mop to clean up after her.” You push your wheeled chair away from them with a groan, needing space and air and, potentially, a brain transplant. You’ve gotten nothing done all day long.
“Can you blame me? The man comes in here everyday, buttoned up tight, looking incredible in a suit and tie, and then he shows up in that black polo, all snug and hot and delicious, and you expect me not to freak out? You guys are lucky I didn’t pass out.” You’re met with silence, and you blink, confused, at your friends, but they’re all just kind of staring with looks of barely concealed humor. “What? It’s not like it’s a secret that I want to climb him like a tree.”
“Pretty sure it was a secret to him,” Penelope says, looking shocked, and you whip around in your chair to see Hotch standing in the doorway, wide-eyed and a little flushed.
“Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I, uh—” He raises a hand, waves you off.
“It’s okay. No harm done; thank you, for the, uh. Compliment.” He steps forward, hands a manila folder to Penelope. “Thanks for taking care of these,” he says softly, and then, unsurprisingly, he gets the hell out of there. You wish you could disappear off the face of the Earth.
“Fuck, holy fuck,” you mutter when he’s gone, leaning forward with your head in your hands. “That’s it, I’m quitting. It’s been nice knowing you guys.”
“Okay, don’t be dramatic,” Derek says, and you look up to glare at him; he’s the one that started all this in the first place. You were fine, feelings tamped down and suppressed, until he brought it up and then told everyone you know.
“Don’t tell me not to be dramatic, Derek! This is all your fault. You never respect my boundaries, you never know when to just let me be, you always have to pick and pick until you wear me down. Maybe I had a reason for wanting to keep my feelings private, did you ever think of that?”
“I know you're upset,” Emily begins softly, because there’s some pretty thick tension between you and Derek now, but you stand up, push your chair across the room, and shake your head.
“I’m not upset, I’m fucking humiliated. I’m going home; let him know I’m sick, will you?” You exhale deeply, storm upstairs and grab your stuff and drive home with tears in your eyes. You’ve never been so embarrassed in your life, and add that to the absolute heartbreak you’re feeling? You’re just happy you make it to your apartment, so you can break down with cheesecake and a sappy, romantic comedy with a happy ending: those perfect, fictional worlds are pretty much the only place one is guaranteed.
You are, as planned, hunkered down on the sofa in your softest pajamas, watching You’ve Got Mail and eating the center out of an entire cheesecake with a spoon when there’s a knock at your door. You groan, pick up your cheesecake tin, and walk over to it, fully expecting it to be Derek come to beg for forgiveness for ruining your life, so it’s no surprise you drop your dessert on the floor when it’s actually Hotch on the other side.
He looks down at the tin, then up at your face, cracks the barest hint of a smile.
“I thought you were sick; I brought soup,” he says, holding up a paper bag, and your heart thumps in your chest. You wipe a hand over your face, because you haven’t been exactly neat in your heartache cheesecake consumption, and then you kick the tin across the floor and invite him in, closing the door behind him.
“I thought it was obvious that I wasn’t actually sick, just… really embarrassed,” you say when he turns back to look at you. “I can’t believe you heard all that stuff I said… I’m really sorry I made you uncomfortable.” You take the bag from his hand and invite him to follow you into the kitchen, where you set it on the counter, lean against it. He comes close, but not so close you can’t function, which is good; your comfy pajamas are shorts and a loose tank top, so you feel a little exposed already.
“You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” he says softly, and you frown, must have heard him wrong. He presses his fingertips against the counter, as if for support. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable. It was… unexpected,” he explains, “very unexpected, but I’m not uncomfortable.”
You flush hot, and you can feel the bad decision part of your brain switching on, warning bells ringing in your head.
Whatever you do next has the potential to be extremely stupid, and you would like to avoid that at all costs; you love your job, after all, despite how physically and emotionally exhausting it can be, and you love your team. Time to think with your upstairs brain only.
“That makes me feel a little better,” you say truthfully, and despite the pep talk you just gave yourself, you move closer to him like there’s an invisible magnetic force between you; you would imagine a guy like Hotch would step back, keep his distance, but he only cranes his neck a little so he can look down at you more easily.
God, he’s tall. And he smells good, and his face is perfect, and that goddamn polo...
“Good, I’m glad. I don’t want you to feel bad about this. I’m not uncomfortable, it’s not… it’s not unwanted.” You swallow audibly, looking up at him, wondering if he knows what he’s saying, what it sounds like.
“It’s not?” you ask, and it comes out breathy; he takes a small step closer to you, brushes his fingers over your arm, peers into your eyes.
“No, it’s not. I’ve been thinking of you, too; I know you know you’re beautiful, but you’re also so smart, and strong-willed, and a force to be reckoned with. I’m proud to have you on my team, and I’d be proud… to have you climb me like a tree.” He smiles again, just the barest hint of one, and you put your arms around him and pull him closer for a kiss.
One long, slow, perfect kiss turns into another, then another, and he presses your back against the counter, his hands on your face and your hands on his thick waist; you hum into the kiss, revel in the feel of his lips on yours, his tongue sweeping past them, and when you pull back for air it feels like there’s only one question that needs to be asked.
“Bedroom?” you breathe, and he nods, and you take his hand and pull him in that direction, pausing to kiss him several times before you get there. “You don’t happen to have a condom, do you?” you ask, breathless, guiding him to the bed, and he frowns, shakes his head.
“I didn’t want to seem presumptuous.” You grin at that, lean forward and kiss him, your fingers in his hair.
“I find it so hot that you even say presumptuous. I might have one here somewhere.” You open your nightstand, move around books and toys until you find a couple; you flip them over, checking to see if they’re expired, and offer him a couple options. “They’re still good, surprisingly. You can, uh. Choose the one that would work best.”
He looks them over, picks one and hands back the rest, and you throw them back in the drawer and slide into his lap, wrap your arms around his shoulders.
“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he says, holding your waist as you look down at him, completely in awe that this is happening. “But I want to clarify: if you’re looking for something casual, I don’t think we should go any further.” You inhale softly, surprised by his straightforwardness, and you lean in, kiss him slowly.
“I don’t want casual. I want to be with you.” His eyes are so brilliant, dark in the dim light of your bedroom, and he nods, presses his lips to yours and slides his hands beneath your top, guides it over your head. Then they move to your shorts, slipping them gently off your hips, and you stand so he can push them to the ground.
You’re both breathing heavily, a little rough, and you step between his legs, kiss him again, run your hands down his chest, closing your eyes with a sigh because you finally get to feel him after a year of just imagining what it would be like. After a beat, you open your eyes, look into his, smile.
“Really grateful for Casual Friday,” you whisper. “Otherwise you might never have found out I’m kind of in love with you.” You ease the polo over his head, drop it on the ground and encourage him to stand so you can take off his pants; he does, but before you can drop to your knees as planned, he takes your face in his hands, presses one soft kiss against your mouth.
“I’m more than kind of in love with you.” Oh, if that isn’t the greatest sentence your ears have ever heard… You wrap your arms around his neck, kiss a little more, forgetting that you planned to finish undressing him; when you remember, you make quick work of it, then have him lay back against the bed and settle between his legs.
You put your mouth on him because you want to, more than anything, and his hand drops to your hair, caressing you while you suck slowly, deeply, holding him with one hand and pressing against his stomach with the other. His moans are soft and gorgeous, his body tense beneath your hand, and you’d do this all night, but he murmurs your name, coaxes you up, puts his hands on your back as you settle against him.
“You’re so incredible. I never would have imagined I’d get this, get you,” he breathes, skimming his hands over your sides and hips, and you kiss softly, steamy and sweet.
“Me neither.” You lean up, make space for him to roll on the condom, and then press him inside; your breath hitches, and so does his, and you lay on top of him, chest to chest, stomach to stomach, arms around each other tightly while you move. “Hmm. Aaron,” you sigh, hair falling around him, and he groans, digs his fingertips into your hips.
“Sounds so perfect coming out of your mouth.” You smile, but it slips away when he surges up to kiss you, leans up so he’s sitting with you in his lap. He slides a broad hand up your back, wraps it around the nape of your neck, and pumps his hips up as you sink down, eliciting a series of soft, eager moans from the both of you.
“Feels like I’ve waited so long; I’ve never wanted someone as badly as I wanted you,” you tell him, chest heaving, and he brings you to him for a kiss, something a little rougher, less refined. He’s getting close.
“Never. You make me feel so much.” You reach back against his leg for support, work harder to bring him off, and when he comes he crushes his mouth against yours, delicious and more uncontrolled than you’ve ever seen him. He chants your name, so soft and sweet rolling off of his tongue, and then gets you on your back so he can press deeply inside.
You feel so incredibly full, panting beneath him, your hands on his waist and your feet on the backs of his thighs; his perfect face is inches from yours, all shallow breaths and decadent, passionate kisses, and when you climax you pull him closer, sigh, unravel completely in his embrace.
Maybe good things do happen after all.
You hold each other and talk for a while, after a quick pitstop to the restroom, and then your stomach growls—understandably, since the only thing to fill it since lunch was that stupid cheesecake—and Hotch orders takeout on his phone from bed; god bless technology.
There’s a knock at the door twenty minutes later, and you know that’s quick for your favorite Thai place, but you’re not complaining because you’re officially starving. He offers to grab it, throws on his boxers and heads for the living room; after a few minutes, you wonder what’s taking so long, pull on your robe and go to check on him.
Hotch is talking to Derek, who is standing in your living room with a piece of cheesecake and a shit eating grin.
“I came with a peace offering, but now I think I’ll wait for a, ‘Thank you, Derek,’” he says, and you roll your eyes, stalk over and take the cheesecake out of his hands. You give it to Hotch, lean up to kiss Derek on the cheek, and push him toward the door.
“Thank you, Derek. Go away, Derek,” you say with a smile of your own, and he raises his palms and retreats down the hall, laughing as he goes.
This is just one more thing he’ll tease you mercilessly about, but this time the benefits outweigh the costs.
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Domesticated Drabble
Pairing: Bang Chan x Y/N
Genre: Marriage AU; Sequel; Drabble
Warnings: So. Much. Fluff. (small smut scene at the beginning); language
Request:
A/N: Finally finished this one! Please enjoy another taste of my favorite AU!
5 Years Later
“We’ve got five minutes,” I whispered against the pulse point on Chan’s neck, the throbbing vein pumping hard as he panted for breath from above me, eyes shut tight together as he moaned.
“I’ll blow at any second,” Chan cursed, laying sloppy kisses wherever he could reach while fucking me hard and fast.
“Your cock feels amazing,” I practically purred, digging sharp nails into the milky white skin of his back, legs closing in around his waist to keep him close.
“Oh, sweetie, you’re laying it on thick this morning, aren’t you?”
I clenched a vice-grip around the length pumping inside me in response, sending Chan’s hips stuttering against my own. “I’ve got kids in the next room who can wake-up at any second. Excuse me for trying to inflate your ego.”
“That’s not the only thing inflating,” Chan gasped, curling his fingers through mine.
“You’re gross,” I huffed, closing my eyes and throwing back my neck as best as I could in this position: laid out under my husband, orgasm approaching at a meteoric-level speed, and sweat coating my skin in a delightful sheen as the muscles around my abdomen worked overtime to milk Chan for everything that he had before the moment was ruined by my kids.
I half-expected them to burst into the room unannounced at any second, oblivious to their parents fucking in much of the same way that created them in the first place. Locked together with limbs intertwining, sucking in each other’s air, and kisses rough and demanding.
Fuck it had been far too long since Chan and I had last done anything even remotely this intimate, and it was still necessary for us to go at it as fast as possible to prevent unwanted eyes from accidentally catching us at the height of our passion.
I couldn’t help but glance at the clock, realizing that we had been fucking for almost ten minutes, and the alarm had been set for 7:00 AM so that I could somehow wrestle my kids together for their first day of school.
Damn, this is gonna turn out to be a very long day.
“Are you close?” I asked Chan, connecting our lips for a sweet kiss since I personally knew that they were a weakness of his.
“Yeah,” he said, features collapsing into a look of pure concentration as a guttural moan found its way crawling up his throat to release itself at the same moment when I could feel his release emptying into the condom separating us from complete skin-to-skin by a thin layer of latex.
But I insisted on wearing them now.
“You’ll cum too, sweetie,” Chan whispered, laving his tongue across the pad of his thumb before reaching down to connect with my clitoris, drawing rough circles in random patterns to snap the physical breaking point: holding my tongue to prevent myself from screaming as I rode the waves of pleasure until nothing was left but a delicate haze and the sensation of Chan’s cock still stuffed inside my spent pussy.
As it turns out, aftercare with Chan was the equivalent of my husband spewing my praises while insisting on letting his cock soften completely before pulling out: cock warming at its finest.
“Do you plan to pull out?” I asked him, smirking when he whined and buried his face into the side of my neck.
“It’s been a while since we’ve been like this,” Chan remarked.
“The kids need to get up soon,” I said, although there was a sleepy pull weighing down my eyelids. A good fuck tended to wear me out. “They’ve got their first day.”
“Yeah,” Chan agreed, but he made no effort to separate us. In fact, I could imagine us both easily falling back to sleep.
“You’re coming right?” I asked around a yawn. “To their Kindergarten orientation or whatever the hell they call it.”
“Of course,” Chan said, and he finally lifted his head from my shoulder, gaze soft as he took his time to explore my features. “I can’t miss that.”
“What? Watching the teachers drag them away for the first day of the education system they’ll be stuck in for the next thirteen years?”
“You have a way with words, sweetie.”
I grinned. “Maybe I’m just using words to deny the weirdness of my kids starting school and making me feel like I’m 100 years old.”
“It feels like they were just born,” Chan agreed, and he slowly rose himself into a sitting position, climbing out of bed to give me the best view of his naked ass.
“Your ass looks great by the way.”
“Thanks,” Chan snorted, reaching for a pair of black slacks from the floor. “I’m taking a shower.”
“Fine,” I groaned. “I guess I’ll go awaken the sleeping monsters.”
“Let the chaos begin,” Chan announced, closing the bathroom door behind him as I reached down deep into the reserves to muster enough energy to finally get out of bed.
At the risk of sounding too long-winded, the best way I could describe my twins was with a touch of irony. Because, despite looking identical to one another, my girls couldn’t be more opposite in terms of personality.
Leah, the eldest by one minute, was boisterous, loud, and unapologetic when it came to being herself. She was the epitome of a social butterfly, jumping from one person to the next and asking questions that occasionally raised a few eyebrows because of their brazenness.
Her sister, Rose, was nothing like that. In fact, Rose hardly spoke at all, choosing to listen instead, and offer her voice only when she truly felt the need to include it. Of course, side-by-side, they were another thing altogether, far too energetic for me to handle.
This morning was no exception, chasing Leah around the house because she refused to change out of her pajamas, questioning me relentlessly on why it mattered that she had to change.
“I should wear what I want!” she insisted, and I had nearly lost my patience with her until Chan entered the room, and he was one of the only people who could talk through to Leah.
Him and Felix, of course.
Before Felix moved out, he and Leah were practically inseparable, and I could see her uncle’s influence in a lot of different ways.
“You want to look your best to make new friends, right?” Chan asked her, and after a laughable look of concentration, Leah nodded and allowed me to change her into a much more suitable dress.
“There,” I grumbled, turning my attention to Rose who was more willing to be dressed.
“Let’s go have breakfast, yeah?” Chan whispered to Leah, and she smiled and giggled at her father as he took her hand and led her into the kitchen.
I scoffed at how easy he was able to manage her, glancing at Rose who was even more quiet than usual. “Aren’t you excited for your first day?”
She shrugged, looking down at her hands. “I don’t want to leave you.”
I could feel my heart breaking at her sweet words, cupping her face between my hands as I tried to reassure her that she would still see me in the afternoons and evenings. “It’s just a little break,” I said, but I knew that Rose was harder to convince.
In the meantime, Chan and I worked together to have both twins fed and ready to leave the house, packing them lunches for school before ushering everyone out the door because we were teetering on the edge of being too late.
At least Chan had the wherewithal to warm-up the car, and it gave us more time to fasten everyone into their car-seats before pulling out onto the main road, speeding into the downtown district with the clock ticking away. “Well, at least the other parents will think we’re irresponsible.”
“I’ve got this,” Chan said, and I shivered as he toed the gas and grazed just going over too fast.
“At the risk of getting a ticket-”
“Relax, sweetie,” Chan interrupted, reaching over to take my hand. “I’ll handle everything.”
“Uh-huh,” I murmured, glancing up into the rearview mirror to see Leah and Rose engaged in their learning tablets. Even if they were a few minutes late, my kids would still be the smartest. I had made sure of that, spending countless hours with them reading as many books as I could buy, digging out paper and pencils to practice their names and alphabet letters, and reading tons of online articles about the best methods to ensure your child’s early learning set them up for the most success.
Right? So what if we were a little late.
“Mommy? Why can’t you both stay with us at school?” Rose suddenly inquired from the backseat.
I sighed, turning around to face her. “Mommy and Daddy both have to go to work, okay? We’ve already had our turn at school.”
“Our turn?” Chan chuckled, and I pivoted in my seat to glare at him.
“That’s the kind of language we should be using with them!”
“Did you read that from an online expert?”
“As a matter of fact, I did!” I huffed, and I caught his smile, letting me know that he was just messing around.
“I just want them to do well,” I whispered, and his expression instantly softened at the sound of my tone.
“You’ve done so well, sweetie,” Chan reassured me, squeezing my hand even tighter as he turned into the school’s parking lot, finding an empty spot near the back.
Immediately, I was at the back door, reaching inside to help Rose out of her seat, spinning her around to help her with her brand new bookbag. “There,” I said, once her attention was on me again. “You’re ready.”
“I don’t know...” Rose trailed off, and her eyes held all the uncertainty of a five-year-old who was used to staying at home with her parents and uncle. Not the unfamiliar presences of her peers.
“Hey,” I said, kneeling down to meet her gaze straight-on. “I know it seems scary, but I promise that you’ll really love it. I was the same way too on my first day, but my mom gave me the same advice, and guess what? She was right. I ended up loving school, and if there’s a little piece of me in you, then I know that you’ll have so much fun that you’ll forget all about your mommy and daddy.”
Rose’s eyes grew bigger, shaking her head in a manner that was quite endearing. “I won’t ever forget you.”
“I know, sweetheart,” I said, pulling her close for a hug as Chan and Leah emerged from the other side.
“Everything okay?” Chan asked, looking between me and his daughter.
“Just fine,” I said, ruffling Rose’s hair before standing tall again. “Let’s go inside.”
The classroom was already full of students, and I was glad to see some parents lingering, which meant we weren’t as late as I had thought.
“Told ya,” Chan snickered, and I gave him a playful glare before turning my attention to the approaching teacher: an older gentleman with a head of pepper and salt colored hair and kind eyes.
“Hello,” he said, addressing me first. “I’m Mr. Park.”
“Hi,” I said, accepting his handshake. “These are my daughters: Leah and Rose Bang.”
“Ah!” Mr. Park remarked, glancing down. “I’m excited for our twin students! Please, have a seat wherever you’d like.”
“Go on,” I encouraged them when I caught their matching looks of insecurity. “You have each other,” I added, reaching down to wrap their fingers together, giving them one last smile before Leah bravely led her sister further into the room, selecting an empty table near the back.
“Well, it’s so nice to meet you,” Mr. Park said, and I noticed that he had grown a little too close, gaze lingering for far too long.
“Yes,” I agreed, “And this is my-”
“I’m Chan,” my husband interrupted, inserting himself between me and Mr. Park with a brusque movement. “The father.”
I rolled my eyes at his tone, watching as Mr. Park hesitated before nodding and shaking Chan’s outstretched hand. “Nice to meet you.”
I smirked, waiting until Mr. Park had moved on before leaning in to Chan. “What was that, dear?”
Chan scoffed, searching the room for a moment. “He was flirting with you, sweetie. What did you expect me to do?”
“Well, it could be from our morning romp, but it kinda turned me on.”
Chan raised a suggestive brow at my comment, but I gave him a cheeky smile in response before walking in the direction of Leah and Rose’s table. “Look at you two,” I remarked. “I think you made a good choice.”
“I like seeing outside,” Leah said, and I nodded and tucked away a wayward strand of hair.
“You’ll both stay together, right?”
I received synchronous nods in response, and there was a lot of relief on my end knowing that my girls would be just fine.
“We’ll be here to pick you up at 2:00,” Chan said, pointing to the analog clock above the door. “Okay?”
Two more nods. “Remember to have fun. You’re gonna learn so much, and maybe you’ll even be smarter than daddy.”
I managed to elicit two laughs in response to that, and Chan chuckled as he wrapped an arm around my waist. “Be good, alright?”
“Yes, daddy,” Leah replied diligently while Rose nodded her head, attention drifting to a book sitting at the edge of the table.
I smiled knowing that she was showing interest, and then I realized that there was a deeper part of me that was having just as much trouble leaving the girls as they were having with leaving me and Chan. But the other parents were starting to leave the room, and with one more exchange of our goodbyes, Chan and I were walking away from our girls, keeping our own hands locked together as the door closed behind us.
“Woah,” I sighed once we were outside in the hallway. “That was harder than I expected.”
“It’s a big step,” Chan said, and he wrapped an arm around my waist to pull me closer. “But they’ll be okay because they’re ours.”
“Oh,” I laughed. “Is that so?”
“Of course,” Chan said, giving me a perfectly serious look before a smile overtook his features, and any previous doubts were vanquished by the sincerity in that smile, and I knew that as long as I had Chan, then nothing would ever be too difficult to overcome.
#straykids#straykidsfanfic#skz fanfic#stray kids drabbles#skz drabbles#stray kids imagines#skz imagines#stray kids chan#stray kids chan fanfic#chan fluff#chan smut#bang chan smut#bang chan fanfic#chan fanfic#bang chan imagines#bang chan scenarios#bang chan drabbles#chan imagines#chan drabbles#chan scenarios#mostlycompetent
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Some ramblings about depression, medication and whatnot. Positive overall tho there are some trigger warnings!
So last november I dragged my ass to the on-duty clinic because boy was I feeling suicidal, enough to be sent to urgent care unit, which was new.
There I actually got a psychiatrist and a psych nurse who I would work with me the entire time. For the first time in the 3,5years I've been trying out antidepressants and having to meet with an entirely new doctor almost every time, I finally had a person who -kept- my case, who I could contact in need. I'd also meet them every week/every other week depending on how i'm feeling. What a fucking difference that has made. I haven't had to start from the beginning every goddamn time i go in, and get a different doctor's opinion each time.
Also the psychiatrist at urgent care was the first medical professional who has just flat out gone: "You haven't been able to sleep properly since you were a teenager, which is also when your depression kicked in? Well, there's the reason, and we'll need to work together to see what options would work for you."
Until now my sleeping problems have always just been a "lifestyle choice" and I've simply been told to fix it myself and I'd start feeling much better :)
Also she saw that I've been in the queue for adhd/add evaluation and tests for 6months and asked straight away why haven't I been prescribed Bupropion, since it's an antidepressant but also works the same way that adhd medications do, it's just like a lighter version more or less.
So she put me on that, and for the first month, nothign really happened. Then she maxed the dose saying if that won't work in a month or two then we gotta look for other options.
Well, 3 weeks after that stuff started to happen. After about 7months of not being able to really even draw anything, not feeling any motivation for anything I usually enjoyed, really, I just somehow got a really frustrated feeling about not doing anything productive or fun.
Dusted off my tablet and started drawing. Mehhh felt like shit everything looked like shit. The next day though, looked back at the stuff and yeah, it still looked liked shit, but the feeling of having done something creative was suddenly immense. Like wtf is this feeling of... satisfaction?
So I picked up the pen again and just kept going. That was uhhh.. a month ago now? And I'm still fucking going. I've had 2 days in the last 30 or so where I've actually just had to stay in bed and recharge after several days of 12-18 hours of drawing or WRITING, which is something I've never been able to start, suddenly that wasn't a big deal to start off either. Wtf. I'm drafting a comic, another thing I've never been able to start because I've felt too shit about it/myself beforehand. Again, wtf?
I've also started to talk more, which actually weirds me out. I'm used to being way too anxious to actually initiate conversations, or got stuck on worrying myself into an anxiety attack about entirely useless/stupid things. I feel generally way less stressed somehow? Like it's not like "it's all gone I'm no longer mentally ill", but parts of my anxiety have lessened to a degree that makes me uncomfortably comfortable, if that makes any fucking sense?
While I know it's entirely dumb to think about what could've been, recently I can't help but think that man, what would've my life been like if I'd gotten this sort of care and/or meds... Say when I was 25? or 20? or 15? Would I actually been able to get through school instead of dropping out from 5 different colleges? Would I've been able to land a job for more than a month because I would've not been too anxious to do any level of socializing? Maybe not. But maybe some things could've been better.
Better late than never I guess. I'm experiencing things and drive at 33 that I haven't experienced... Since I was a kid, really? Wtf.
ngl at this point I'll be really surprised if I don't get diagnosed with adhd/add once I get into the eval. and tests sometime this year hopefully...
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I have some slightly controversial take about Sam Wilson fandom here, so maybe don’t reblog this post... Comment if you want, but I really don’t want to start arguing with anyone. I just need to vent and will probably delete the whole rant later.
So...
I know that Sam’s fans complain a lot about the treatment he gets in the fandom... I still do that from time to time and I probably will continue doing it in the future. But I’m starting to feel very, very tired with the people who act like their love for Sam can only be expressed through:
1) criticizing other people’s content,
2) hatered/dislike for Bucky or Sambucky,
3) complaining about other people in the fandom.
It’s so weird. We criticize the people who make Bucky-centric content with barely any mention of Sam and tag it with his name, because it’s annoying, but at the same time there is quite a big number of fans, whose posts in Sam Wilson tag are basically:
“omg he never gets recognition”, “MCU fandom hates Sam”, “Everything is about Bucky, where is Sam?!” “some of you only like sam when he’s with bucky :/”
And... sure. There’s a lot of truth to these statements. But saying that over and over again won’t fix the problem, especially if you yourself don’t do ANYTHING to remedy the situation. You’re flooding the tag too... Just in a different way. A few months ago I had this habit that I liked to follow people who wrote posts like these. Because I had this assumption that: if you complain about Sam being treated badly you probably love him a lot, so we should get along. I love him too!
But I realized that a lot of those people literally complain for the sake of complaining and than don’t even try to post Sam-centric content on their own. Why not??? You don’t have to be an amazing creator to make a good post. It’s not just about realistic fanart and 30k words fanfic with a complicated plot. You might write some weird HCs about Sam instead. Or a joke. Incorrect quotes. Ideas for fics you’ll never finish, but might inspire other people. Doodles that took 2 minutes of drawing. Edited photos. Favourite screenshots. Prompts. Learn to make poor-quality gifs of Sam’s cool fightigh style. Write a short scene analysis. Or ask other people how they analyse some scenes to start a discussion. Link some edits from YouTube.
And if you cannot think of a single thing to make on your own? Well. You can always promote art made by other people. Go through the tag and reblog things you loved. Find a good blog and search throught their archives to find older content. You can compile a post with fic recommendations so other people read what you enjoyed and see how good the content about Sam might be. Or recommend your favourite creators in general. Send encouraging asks to artists who you love so they feel motivated.
--- ----- ---
But these people do none of that. I can scroll throught their blog for 10 minutes and everything about Sam Wilson I see is complaining that people like Bucky more. Or that Sambucky is popular. (As if all the best Sambucky stories aren’t just fans expressing their love towards Sam through Bucky’s eyes...) I’m not trying to say that you have to be a creator to criticize the fandom, but it’s weird when you only yell at others for not posting enough about Sam when you didn’t post anything about him either unless it’s complaining. Kind of ironic...
Also! If you don’t promote other people’s content they get discoraged from posting. It’s a fact. I have probably over 80 different half-made and finished drawings with Sam Wilson on my tablet, but I have zero incentive to post any of them, because every attempt in the past ended with these posts getting 4 notes. Or 10 at best. So why bother? I can look at them alone. And I don’t remember these people who complained about the lack of Sam content supporting my Sam-centric art with nice comments.
You cannot expect the fandom to mass-produce content for you if you don’t encourage it. I got no feedback, so now I just sort of... write or draw for myself, because I enjoy it and have no incentive to publish any of that when no one’s interested. Instead I just make writing prompts or analysis of tfatws, because there’s a bigger chance I’ll have an interesting disussion with other fans in the comments or I’ll inspire other creators to make more art by posting that. I enjoy both of those things very much, but one evokes a reaction I want and the other just... doesn’t. (It’s not even about validation... even if it’s nice to get compliments. It’s just: “when other people are clearly not interested, why make the art public at all?”.)
--- ----- ---
Like I said. I’m not going to call out any specific person here. But there were a few people who harshly criticized me in asks or in private messages for “pretending to love Sam” just because I like Sambucky too. But if you scroll through my blog you’ll find that at least 95% of the posts are about Sam. And if you scroll through theirs it’s 3 posts - all of them about fandom not loving Sam enough. (I just checked.)
But I guess I’m a “disgrace to the fandom”, because I acknowledge that Sam might have a love interest while you said you hate Bucky, so... Apparently your love for Sam Wilson is more real if you despise more popular characters he interacts with. ...Be honest with yourselves. Some of you just like to whine and complain, but prefer to disguise it behind love for Sam, so it sounds justified.
And yes. There should be more content that is only about Sam. Or about Sam’s non-romantic relationships. Sure. But if my two choices are: “get a Sambucky fic about Bucky loving Sam very much” or “get a post where someone cries about Sam not being loved enough for the 10th time”... then pardon me for preferring the first option.
If any of you spent half the energy you waste on complaining on making a single post about your supposed love for Sam the tag would be much more full of good content. But it seems like making actual content requires more effort and talent, so you just stay there whining that other people don’t provide you with what you want and demand. And give zero encouragement and promotion to those who do the work.
So continue doing that if you wish. But I won’t waste all my energy on making my weekly “this fandom fucking sucks” post. I prefer promoting cool art other users made (now or years ago) and creating my own posts that might not be always 100% about only Sam... but are still focused on him. Because I like this fictional little guy. I’m not going to let this weird purity tests ruin my enjoyment. If the pretty drawing of Sam has Bucky on the other side of the canvas I still have a cool drawing of Sam to admire. So it’s a win for me.
--- ----- ---
[Reminder: please don’t reblog this. I really just need to vent. Comments are okay, I can discuss this. I just don’t want some peope to see that and go yell at me all over again. I was already harassed for allowing Bucky or Steve on my mostly Sam-Wilson-centric blog...]
[Also... if you think this is hypocritical of me to complain about complaining... Maybe. I don’t think it’s comparable here, but whatever.]
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