#i wanted to add more but my brain is static so take this

[sunflower-cathedral]

Lets Talk About The Perception Of Ren This Season.

Going to try say this as politely as possible, this season it just feels like some people are Infantilizing and really boiling down the relationships he holds with certain hermits to something that it's not + turning Ren into a one dimensional person and character.

I wanted to try address a couple things in this post regarding that; How the fanbase has been reacting to how hermits are treating him on camera mainly (Long Post, so it's under Keep Reading <3).

Regarding how the neighbourhood of ministries have been treating Ren;

They are all very close friends. and have been for up to 10 or so years. Please, for the love of everything holy watch old series like Foolcraft, Hermitcraft UHCs, the Renskall Podcast, older seasons of Hermitcraft etc. Hell, even watch my favourite VOD; Sea Of Thieves. You quickly learn the dynamic they have, and the fact they all go off on playful banter (and also re: British Humour/Love that Cleo and False have mentioned off-handedly in streams and videos before being typically brash and sarcastic. Also not to mention how Martyn is British; I'll get to that later though.) There's a really specific dynamic where Iskall, False and Stress are close friends with him and care about him deeply; and Ren has openly talked about how much the Hermits have helped him out during IRL struggles. The roles and performance they put on for the camera is not going to always reflect how they treat each other off camera, let alone show how much they all deeply care for one another. Cleo has outright mentioned how much they care about Ren on stream too even. A lot of hermits have mentioned how much they appreciate Ren, and have complimented him + said affirmations on stream.

Regarding hermits ribbing him/not playing along;

If something happened that was uncomfortable for Ren or Too Much, it would've been mentioned after and not included in anyone's POVs. Ren's whole kinda thing is being a Theatre Kid, his whole thing is being dramatic and taking up roles for the sake of creating fun storylines and contents for the other hermits to either play along with or turn into something else. If a hermit took it a way Ren wasn't happy with He Would Bring It Up To The Hermits Because They Are Adults And Communicate Amongst Each Other. Like I mentioned above, the banter is very much more part of british humour and culture/attitude, as well as their general dynamic going on.

I've even seen concerns of it being bullying, which is far from the case. I think a lot of us longer term viewers have a better grasp of how much they all care about each other and how deep the friendship goes.

The other concern I have is how like, the joke of him being a 'Wet Pathetic Dog' is kind of going a bit overboard to the point where it's the only defining factor people are mentioning about him? and that like, so much so it genuinely feels more like the fanbase is infantilizing him or making him out to be this damsel in distress who needs to be rescued. He's a grown adult man, who can more than easily speak up for himself and advocate for himself. Minimizing him down to this pathetic useless character who can't do anything is just rude and misses the point of the characters he tends to play when doing storylines. He tries his hardest to organize server events and include all the hermits in things, which is both great for content and a great show of how much the hermits are willing to go along with his ideas and either see where it plays out or evolve it further. Mind you there's always MULTIPLE if not ALL the hermits being willing to play along in these events!! from the mining event this season to the king Ren arc last season all the way to log fellas in season 4.

[planete777]

꒰ RED LINES .:. LN4 ꒱

( lando norris x fem!reader )

IN WHICH. y/n finds her fate hidden within two red lines, and fears the demise of her and lando's relationship. [based on this ask]

pt. 2 .:. 'red hearts'!

WARNINGS. pregnant!reader, both her and lando aren't ready so there are discussions about potential abortions, mental break downs (i.e panic attacks, crying, you know the drill), angst, mentions of throwing up (no one does it i promise), attachment issues (like me fr), a little bit of fluff (because im not that evil >:])

NOTE. first non-high!lando fic!! i've never written a pregnancy fic, so like, forgive me if it's bad haha 🥲 i put so much effort into my banner, like i'm so proud of it lmao. anyways, enjoy reading luvs 💗

SIDENOTE. my askbox is open! feel free to send in any high!lando thoughts, scenarios and requests, or any other trope too 🤍

edited to add tag in banner

y/n is almost blinded by it.

two bold, red lines.

she finds it completely comical how she didn't know it sooner, for the ink that runs down the result window is so palpable, it might as well have been written with a permanent marker.

the test taunts and mocks her as she stares at it in complete despair and confusion as she so sure that they had been careful. but now, she lets herself cry over spilt milk because having a baby, on top of mountainous piles of stress that came hand-in-hand with uni, was not a checkbox she would've liked to tick off amidst her status quo.

the bathroom pounds with an deafeningly eerie silence, as she stares, and stares, then blinks as tears flow, then stares again. her ears are swallowed by loud static and her vision fuzzes around the edges, making the test in her hand seem further away than it actually is, and she allows herself to completely fade out.

she feel utterly sick. like she wants to throw up, but the upcoming bile, instead, remains dislodged in her throat and presses immense weight into her chest. it shortens her breaths, she's hyperventilating as if she's been strangled, then panic completely overwhelms her. everything before her zooms in and out like a malfunctioning camera and the pregnancy test clatters to the ground as she digs the heels of her palms into her eyes.

she doesn't remember the last time she had a panic attack this severe, and neither does she know if she'll get over it solus. yearn for a presence beside her devours her brain and she wishes that lando–

lando.

the way her heart seems to squeeze in her chest is almost too animalistic to be normal, and it arrives at the thought of him being unacceptable of the baby. he's barely situated in one place, fuck, he basically travels for a living, and all her mind conjures is how he won't be there when she needs him most. she tries to wish it away, because just thinking about her makes her spiral even more and she knows she cannot survive with a child whose father decides to be absent.

codependency isn't great, that she's thoroughly aware of, but lando's presence brings a wave of comfort braided in the brightness of his smiles and the warmth of his embrace, and it has become her whole lifeline.

yet, the bathroom she's in feels too small and too cold to be anything other than unbearable, and her body feels to weak to remain upright, sliding down to the tiled floor. she sobbing and spluttering so much that lando can hear it from two rooms down, and he rushes into the en suite without a thought in mind.

he crouches down in front of her, hands flush against the skin of her cheeks. he's shaking, fucking terrified out of his wits, and his words are enunciated with a tremble.

"hey, hey, y/n breathe with me," he desperately takes her hands into his, and places it on his own chest, making exaggerated breaths as y/n's start to simmer. it feel like hours stretch by, the air surrounding feels tense with fear and devastation, and by the time she settles, y/n senses nothing but exhaustion.

"what's wrong, love? you're scaring me," lando gently asks, and she struggles to respond, mouth rid of any moisture as if it had been scraped dry. lando takes the initiative to look around in hopes that anything would give him a clue to his girlfriend's break down.

then he freezes.

the white stick lays there, gleaming and glowing like it's fucking sent from heaven, and he feels his heart plummet into the depths of his guts. he knows he can deny it all he wants, but it's undeniable, what he's seeing, yet prays like a grieving mother that what he thinks is not true as his quivering hands reaches for it.

two bold, red lines.

"oh fuck," it punches out of him, every inch of energy disperses like fleeing birds, "you're pregnant?"

it's so small, so timid that he almost doesn't see it, but she nods, and his arms fall like he's been shot and the test leaves his fingers. he swears he's drenched in ice cold water and he remains silent, bound by stunned numbness. his lack of response spurs y/n again, and she begins sobbing, pressing her face into her arms and wiping it furiously. all she thinks is that he doesn't want it, and out of sheer terror, she starts rambling utter shit.

"i can get rid of it, if you want, lando, just please i'm begging you, don't leave me."

he's crying himself now, doesn't know what to feel at the suggestion, but it makes him gag.

"get rid of it if i want to? fucking hell y/n, i'm not a prick like that," he fumbles out, words wet and hardly cohesive, "as long as you want to keep it, i want the baby too."

she looks up at him, eyes so full of hope that he immediately takes her into his arms.

"you sure, lando?" she's still hesitant, burying her head into his chest, and as further reassurance, he kisses her forehead, "as sure as i'll ever be."

[addicted-to-dc]

Hobie Brown/Spider-Man X FemmeFatale!Reader - Red Lipstick (Part 2)

Bruh this brain rot is surprisingly motivating. I may have gotten too carried away with this one? Idk, it’s nearly 1,300 words of pure smut. I don’t want to overwhelm myself with another series, so this just might be a two-parter??

Contents will be under the ‘keep reading’.

Contents: Smmuutttt (18+), face riding, p in the v (do not add to the population pls), and more. Flirts and quips, the usual stuff that comes with Spider People. I really need to write femme fatales more often.

Fuck, he knows he’s in heaven right now with you hovering over him. You both couldn’t reach your apartment fast enough, barely able to crawl through the windows before clothes were torn, tossed, and forgotten all over your bedroom. 

Your constant teasing has him all worked up and he loves it. The smile on your face grows even larger when you finish applying the new lipstick to his lips. The metallic red glitters with the shifting light, and you can’t help but steal it off of his lips. The color smears all over both of your faces, hands exploring each others’ bodies. You pull back, dragging your nails across his chest, “How does it look, Tiger?”

Hobie fucking moans at the nickname, the shimmering red on your lips driving him absolutely mad. Your smile widens, more akin to the Cheshire Cat as you lean down close, “You like that one, don’t you?”

His hips buck into yours, telling you everything you needed. Finally lowering your hips down, Hobie’s nails dig into you as you slowly grind down on him. “Fucking love it, Love. God, you’re a goddess.”

Smiling, you lean down, pecking him on the lips before leaning back, “You know how to make a girl blush.”

“I can do more than make a girl blush, Sweetheart,” Hobie chuckles, his fingers fiddling with your lingerie. “Get up here, let me see her.”

Biting your lip, he tears your bottoms off of you and pushes you upwards. Your muscles twitch as your thighs rest with his face in between them. Those beautiful piercings glisten as his hands massage your legs. “You’re pure sin.”

Hobie grins, his grip urging you to sit down, “Take your throne, my Queen.”

Gasping, you let him pull you down. As soon as his mouth is on you a moan erupts from your lungs, your hips rolling along with his tongue. “Fuck! I thought you hated m-monarchies.”

You can feel him smile against you at the comment. He only responds with his tongue sliding into you, stealing your very breath from your lungs. Hobie’s everywhere as he uses your body against you, your emotional barriers crumbling as you reach down to hold one of his hands. He squeezes your hand tightly, doubling his efforts that has you curling downward. 

“Cluh- close,” you moan, accidentally snapping your headboard in two as you come all over his tongue. 

Hobie pulls you even closer, tearing a scream out of you as he quickly builds you to a second orgasm. The metal crumples under your hand without resistance. His free hand slides underneath yours, weaving his fingers into yours before pulling. Hobie holds both your hands back, taking over your pace as your hips buck against him wildly. 

“Fuck, Tiger, just like that,” you cry out, looking down.

You moan at the sight of him, the red lipstick somehow still on his lips as he wraps them around your clit. Then you’re gone. Your throat vibrates, but you can’t hear any of the noises he pulls out of you. All you can see is static as you come down, your eyes refusing your commands to open them.

Breathing heavily, you yell when he pulls both your bodies downwards, you chest meeting the bed. He kisses your clit, making your hips lift with a hiss. A chuckle escapes his mouth, the vibrations go right to your core.

He flips the two of you. Your back meets the bed with a thud, his hands lightly drift across your skin as you calm your breathing down. A shiver crawls up your spine as his fingers dance across your stomach. Hobie’s eyes meet yours as his lips replace his fingers. “My turn to tease.”

“You’ve done that enough walking through HQ,” you whisper, exhaling loudly as his hands tear your bra off. “Fucking mesmerizing.”

Hobie flings it behind him, leaning in you kiss you again. It’s sloppy, but you can’t help but slip your tongue in. He bites it, chuckling when your tongue delves in even further. As soon as his eyes open he groans, seeing the red smeared all over you forever imprinted in his mind.

“God, gotta feel you ‘round me,” he mutters.

He feels your fingers unbutton his jeans and oh so slowly drag his zipper down. You push his pants down, finally freeing him from those clothes. He pulls them off and crawls on top of you. Just as he leans close, he flips you both over again. Hobie smiles at the sight of you above him, painted red like the goddess you are. The color stands out beautifully against the blacks, grays, and whites that make up your figure. Gwen’s right, he’s so fucking whipped. 

“You like your women on top?” you ask, lifting your hips up as you grasp him. “Come on, Tiger, you can tell me.”

He hisses as you slowly sink down on him, leaning close as you squeeze the life out of him, “Never with a woman like you.”

You lift your hips back up, his tip barely inside you as you flash that fucking addicting smile, “Honey, there isn’t another woman like me.”

As soon as the words come out of your mouth you sink all the way down. A weak ‘fuck’ escapes from his mouth, his hands shooting out to grasp your hips. You both work in tandem, him hitting all the right spots to make you see stars as you fuck him into oblivion. 

You both watch each other, taking note of every touch and movement that makes the other go wild. It’s a game, one that you were going to win. Your gray eyes stare into his, whispering sweet nothings as he gets closer and closer to falling over the edge. Biting your lip, you watch as he writhes underneath you. “Come on, Tiger, let go.”

Your words set him off. His hips spasm as he comes, filling you whole as you continue to ride him. Stubbornness fuels you, needing to overstimulate him just like he did to you. Hobie’s moans fill the air as he scrambles to get you to stop, but you just grab his hands and press them into your chest. He squeezes the soft flesh, making your hips stutter slightly. “Give it to me again, Sugar. I know you got it in you.”

Your moans join together as you both come again, limbs refusing to move until the pleasure is too much to bear. You remain still, still seated on him when you shoot a web to the nightstand. A case of cigarettes appear in your hand seconds after. You place a hand-rolled one into your mouth, lighting it before taking a long drag from it. The smoke escapes from your nose, the mischievous glint in your eye returning tenfold. You flick the cigarette around in your mouth, offering it to him. 

He leans up and takes it, his lips happily wrapping around the red-stained rim, “You got anymore tricks for me?”

Smoke escapes from his mouth, his eyes flashing with recognition, “Is this what I think it is?”

“The sweetest tobacco and Mary Jane, Sugar, that’s what it is,” you say, taking a hit when he offers the cigarette.

He holds onto it, watching as your lips leave another layer of red on it, “You’re a fucking dream, that’s what you are.”

Hobie doesn’t remember where he stole the lipstick from, but he’s regularly visiting it from now on. That’s a fucking promise.

[lokorum]

what would you say is your favorite jonmichael fic..... im very curious and love to reread anything in that tag

oh but how can i pick only one when they all are so good??? (,,•᷄‎ࡇ•᷅ ,,)?

aaaaaa can i make the several honorable mentions of the fics that made me scream and roll on the floor?????? pretty please???

scheherazade was one of the first jonmichael fics that i found while going through all of the cher's works because, evidently, they have no fics that are not worth reading!! (i'm sorry if and forty feet down only confirming it!!!)

sleep inertia has one of the best dialogues i ever read!!! the way cruelzy writes michael's lines??? aaaaaaaaa its so delicious and believable and never for a second i thought i'm reading something out of canon?? its just that good. 

carousel is the only one fic (from what i found) that i set in the last season and its adds a lot of layers to that big jonmichael onion that torments my eyes for a while now ldkfjgkdfjg also it's messy?? i mean the whole situation in the fic?? its so humanly complicated and it does not gives you the chance to experience any of the feelings clearly and i love it!! screechfox somehow captured all of the complicated stuff in one fic, blendered it together and for the whole time i just couldn't take my eyes away from it. 

five times michael saves jon's life and one time he doesn't have to - is here to sooth our pain and heal our wounds. i reread it so many times!! the dynamic between jon and michael in it is one to live for!!! sometimes you think 5+1 kind of fics can't surprise you anymore and then the coolest author like paisleycowboys enters the room and proves you wrong. 

to be like super honest, the 100 ways to say i love you series, when i first saw it, made me think im not gonna like it? i love my fanfics long and scary and bittersweet and with a bad-very-not-good-endings, so the title of this one made me go "hmmmmm HMMMMM hmmmmm hmmmm?" but ive started to read it anyway, theres not that many fics on the ao3 for jonmichael, we cant afford to be capricious and gosh GOSH i was so fucking wrong!!! its sweet AND sad AND scary AND awkward (in a best way!!!) AND it made me giggle so many times!!! NeedsCaffeineRightNow can make even the edgiest of us enjoy the soft kinds of fics (its not hard when they are written with so much care and love.)

POSSESSIVE!! MICHAEL!! COMBING!!! JON'S!! HAIR!!!!!! what else do we need from life?

transition, every time i reread it or think about it, makes me painfully aware of how many things should coincide for something to work. it's not one of those fics that completely encompass you; nor its the one that leaves you with new headcanons or in a good mood, no, i think it's the one that leaves you in dissoray, making you want to argue with author, to ask them what were they thinking about, pointing on your weak sides like this?, giving you something precious and then stealing it away? pushing your old bruises? that is to say, i have nothing but deep respect for indefensibleselfindulgence. to write fic that makes you want to engage in conversation? thats powerful 

Our 'Angel' of Static and Bone is written so inexplicably good, that more than once i wondered, how NeverwinterThistle was able to do it? and then i realised they are one of my fave bg3 and dishonored authors phpphp but really, the care, the effort that went into this fic? they are literally visible! you can feel the amount of time and brain juice that went into writing it. and the neighbor character? they appeared like two times?? and still their addition left me speechless with how clever it is, how different!! absolutely amazing work.

adjective noun has jonmichael chapter (11) that destroyed me as a person i swear i laughed so hard i dropped my phone and just kept giggling face-into-the-pillow style!!!!!! its rare for the fics to bring you this childish kind of pure joy; the little in-between moment of forgetting about everything, good and bad, and just have a good time. this chapter is definitely one of those rare things and it also made me wish there would be more jonmichael fics from cuttoth. somehow they nailed everything that should be nailed about this ship and did it in a couple of pages, what a magical work!! 

and well, now here's my fave fic, the one that took my head, shaked it like it's a soda can, and then left it open, fountaining at first and then dented and empty. 

I ask for nothing, but maybe I'm lying is the work that made me grateful for the fact that i know how to read in english. its....mmmm, you know that feeling when fic makes you go through literally everything? and then, as a bonus, through all stages of grief as well?

first you get hooked up by the beautiful writing style and so you know the fic is gonna be good and you get comfortable and you turn yourself off from the rest of the world and you read. 

you love pov, you love mood shifts, you love pacing, you love when scenes are short and you pause to think about what happened / you love when scenes are long and you get overloaded with the simple things that make you feel complicated emotions, you love it all. 

then you start to wish it would never finish; you look at the scrolling bar from time to time, a little bit too aware of how much there's left to read, a little bit too anxious about it. and at the same time, the fic starts to make you feel safe, confident, that at least it's gonna be alright, its gonna be that one work that will replace the canon events for you. it was the

“Oh. Oh, Archivist, no. That’s not right at all,” you say to yourself as you watch him march into artefact storage, both hands clamped around an axe. 

On a whim, you decide to save him."

line for me for sure uhhh it still hits as good as the first time too 

and then you get to the ending and you just stare at the screen. that hollowing feeling slowly spreading inside you. *sigh* its the best sort of inspiration im sure, but its the worse one too. i have no idea how possessedradios and authors like them are able to write something that kills you, then reanimates you and then makes you sit in front of the tablet drawing hours non stop. ''I ask for nothing, but maybe I'm lying" is so beautiful its scares and fascinates me, just like the podcast did. hell, better then the podcast did.  i know its silly but i even named my fisrt fanart of michael as the title of the fic 👉👈

ahhhh SO i rumbled again SORRY!!!!!!! every time someone asks something from me its either "i'll reply later" (replies 10 years after) or "tolstoy, hold my fucking beer". but i really hope that fic writers, not only those who are mentioned here but like in general? know how much they affect other people!! how their work creates safe spaces for others!! how they make readers smile or cry, even if those readers (im not pointing finger on myself idk what you talking about pgphpphph) are little gremlins that leaving comments once in a decade....................

have fun time reading!! <3

btw im working on a little fanart rn............. (expressing my deepest grattitude to ao3 johmichael writers 😳🔪)

[void-occupation]

Some Lee!Alastor Headcanons to Fuel My Brain

The lee!alastor tag has been painfully empty for the last few days, so I've decided to contribute a few headcanons of mine for you all to see and consider as you wish. Feel free to add on to this post with headcanons/rants/fics/whatever of your own if you want, I was just personally experiencing withdrawal symptoms and needed to fuel my addiction lol

(These are tickle headcanons for those unfamiliar with the terminology. If that isn't your thing, just scroll right on by)

First thing's first. Something I think everyone is sleeping on? Scalp massagers. Specifically the wire ones. I personally think those things are ticklish as fuck, and I'm far from the only one. The majority of us have come to the agreement that Alastor's ears are also ticklish as fuck. Just take a moment with me and imagine the potential:

Someone (probably Angel, or Lucifer) gets a scalp massager and is going around trying it on other hotel residents when they aren't paying attention. It's just for fun, and they're getting the typical reactions (jumping away, super startled, or just completely Unphased). Then, they manage to catch Alastor by surprise and do it to him, but instead of the typical reaction, Alastor startles before bursting out into staticky giggles. Alastor has no clue WHY it tickles so much, but it does, and he's practically paralyzed in a weird half-curled position as whoever has the massager just keeps running it over is head over and over. He can't try to escape, he can only giggle and babble out nonsense words, especially when the ends rub up against his ears which only makes it MORE ticklish, which he didn't think was possible. After the other demon shows mercy (and somehow isn't immediately slaughtered) Alastor develops a healthy fear of the massager, and grows incredibly anxious with anticipation and adorably flustered any time someone brings one out

Speaking of massagers brings me to my second headcanon. This man CANNOT get a massage or he will absolutely die. People who are tense can be more ticklish as a result, and since Alastor is already incredibly ticklish, having tense muscles makes this 100x worse. I have really tense shoulders, and any massage there immediately makes me hysterical, and I imagine Alastor would be the same. If he was comfortable enough to do so, he would be the kind of person to absolutely die if he were to get a full-body massage because it would tickle so damn much - even through the pain that comes with massages. Rosie likes to pretend to massage his shoulders and neck just so she can tell him to stop squirming and giggling so much because she's trying to help him

Another quick headcanon. I like to imagine that he's mostly covered in fur, and while it isn't terribly long in most places, it can still get tangled after a shower, or after being smothered by his clothes all day, so he has to brush it regularly. This is an absolute nightmare for him. Even when he's brushing his own fur, he has to stop every few seconds because he starts laughing too much in certain areas, like over his sides or belly for example. No matter how often he does it, he never gets used to the feeling, and it only gets worse if someone else (usually Rosie) does it for him. At least if he does it himself, he can stop once he starts laughing. It makes it take a long time, but it's less flustering. If Rosie (or Satan forbid someone else for whatever reason) brushes his fur, she usually tries to get a much done at once as she can, so she usually keeps going until he's begging for a break. Also, she thinks it's absolutely adorable, so she'll keep brushing areas that make him squeal long after all the tangles have been removed

Last one for now is that he can feel the static from people's phones. If he's close to someone when their phone rings, he can usually feel the static of it crawling teasingly over his skin. It usually isn't a big deal, but if someone is being bombarded by calls that they keep ignoring (let's say Valentino obsessively calling Angel Dust), the static quickly becomes overwhelming and he'll beg the person to answer their phone or turn it off, if straight up bashing it against the nearest wall isn't an option. It doesn't tickle a particular area, more of an all-encompassing tickle over his entire body. If he gets to the point of begging them to answer, it's usually because he can't hold his laughter and squirming anymore and is trying not to make a fool of himself. He feigns annoyance so people don't find out the real reason he wants the calls to stop. The secret comes out when Angel absolutely refused to answer Valentino one day, but didn't want to turn off his phone because he was in the middle of doing something on it, and Alastor finally broke and curled up where he sat, giggling hysterically and begging Angel to turn his phone off

That's all I have for now, I hope you enjoyed these headcanons. If you decide you like them enough to incorporate them into anything you write/draw, tag me!!! I'd move to see it. Also, as mentioned earlier, feel free to add onto this as you wish, I'd love to see how you all make these headcanons your own

[likedovesinthewindd]

this is a sort of continuation of this request for @xoxobabe. wc: ±1310

That night you went home unsated, thoughts of your interaction with the cool stranger plaguing your mind. You were a bit upset you didn't even get his name, so you had no way of finding him.

You just couldn't get over how cool he was, effortlessly so too. He walked around with unmissable confidence and suave, like he knew everyone was in awe of him. You'd give everything to have another conversation with him, preferably one where you didn't make a complete fool of yourself.

A few days later it seemed as though your prayers had been answered when your friend had payed you a visit. "I went to visit my friend, it was a small gathering, just a few people, and some guy there asked for you," she said as the two of you sat on your small couch.

Your breath hitched a bit at the possibility that it could be him, and your brows rose in intrigue. "Who was it?" you asked and she shrugged. "He didn't give me a name. Just asked where you were and asked me to give you this," she fished in her pants pockets until she pulled out a small paper and handed it to you. On it was a number scribbled in almost unreadable handwriting.

"What did he look like?" you asked, inspecting the small paper. "Really tall, lots of piercings and crazy clothes, had wicks?" she said and you tried not to look too elated. It was him, and he had asked for you. Maybe you hadn't made a complete fool of yourself.

That night you had planned to called him. But you didn't.

Three weeks; you had kept the little piece of paper by your nightstand for three weeks and not once did you call him. You'd come close, already pressing the numbers in but every time you tried to press "call", you'd drop everything, once again placing the paper on your nightstand.

You didn't know why were so hesitant. A small part of your brain kept telling you that you'd royally fuck up once you started talking again. You didn't even know what you'd talk about too. What if once you called him you'd freeze up like an idiot, or say something so stupid and weird that he'd have no choice but you hang up.

It bothered you as well. He must've thought you didn't want to talk to him, but you did. You so badly did, but you just didn't know where to start. Ironic seeing that you had all the facilities, just not the willpower to do anything with them.

♪.˳⁺⁎˚

Your friend had asked you to join her to go and see some band perform, and you had gladly agreed. Anything to take your mind of the little paper burning a hole in both your nightstand and your mind. You had dressed in your best, spent hours on your hair and makeup, the whole shebang. You needed a night out more than anything.

The venue was fairly small but quite full, but you and your friend fortunately found place quite close to the actual stage. She kept your place while you went to the little bar to get the two of you drinks. By the time you carefully made your way back to her, squeezing through the crowd trying not to spill anything, you heard the static of the mic and the band getting introduced. You tried to get a look while you moved but it was so packed all around you.

When you made it to your friend and finally got a chance to see the performers—just as they began—you couldn't believe your eyes.

Right there in front of you on stage, he stood, playing guitar like he was getting payed to do it (which he probably was). It was definitely a sight for sore eyes, and you felt like burying your head into the ground like an ostrich. If he saw you, you'd probably combust on the spot just from the embarrassment alone. How your friend forget to add this detail when telling you about tonight, you didn't know.

The band itself was amazing too. You enjoyed the music, it might not have have been what you'd listen to normally but still good music. Once they finished their performance the crowd erupted in applause and cheer. As everyone cheered you moved back into the crowd, telling your friend you needed another drink. Lord knows you truly did.

You made your way back to the small bar, politely ordering and watching intently as the bartender stared working on your drink. The sudden call of your name prompted you to turn around and once you did you wished you hadn't. It was him, of course it was.

"How've you been stranger?" he asked and you wanted to crawl in on yourself. Run away if you could. "I've been good," you smiled awkwardly as he joined you on the adjacent bar stool. "How about you?" you added.

He pursed his lips before replying. "Not too well, considering you never called," he said, "didn't your friend give you my number?" Maybe it wasn't too late to start running.

"No she did," you said quietly, "and I was planning on calling. It's just that I didn't really know how to start the conversation over the phone, if that makes sense." He only nodded, moving his body so that his body was now entirely facing you.

"Well, I'm here now, so how would you begin the conversation face-to-face?" he asked and you smiled. "I'd start by asking what the hell your name was," you said and he laughed. He extended his hand, mimicking your initial introduction. "Hobie," was all he said, although it sounded a lot more like 'Obie through his thick accent. You placed your hand in his and shook it gladly. "It's nice to meet you," you smiled.

"Your band, you guys did great, by the way," you said, thanking the bartender once he handed you your drink. "Yeah? You liked it?" he asked and you nodded excitedly. "Loved it," you said and he smiled. The sight nearly had you in shambles. "I'll have to attend every performance from now on. Just my duty as your new number one fan," you added, taking a gulp sip from your drink, your nerves not yet gone.

"Well then I can guarantee I'll be playing ten times better with you front row," he said with a smirk and you had to stop yourself from choking on your drink. "Don't inflate my ego," you said, yet you hated how small your voice sounded. "'M not," he tried, "jus' stating the facts." You found yourself giggling like a school girl.

The conversation continued for what felt like hours, the two of you sitting by the small bar, contently caught up in your own little bubble. It wasn't until one of his bandmates had called for him, telling him that they needed to pack up and get going, that he had to say goodbye.

"I hate to cut this night short love, but I have to get going," he said, standing up. You tried not to show how the nickname made your stomach flip. "It's alright, it's getting late anyway," you said, also standing up, suddenly remembering about your friend that you had deserted. "You'll call me this time, yeah?" he asked and you nodded with a small laugh.

"Good. I'll see you around, love. Take care, yeah?" and then he dissappeared into the crowd once again. You drank the last if the drink and tried to find your friend.

When you did, you apologized at your disappearance. "It's alright," she said, "I saw you were too busy with mister rockstar." You rolled your eyes at her words and the two of you made your way home. That night you planned to call him, and luckily you did.

★ part 3

[aealzx]

After Leo took Leon to where the sink was, Don turned his attention fully to Raph and April. “Hey, Raphie. How are you feeling?” he asked, resting his hands on Raph’s knees and ignoring the way Raphael’s nose wrinkled and head pulled back at the nickname.

“Uhhh… okay,” Raph responded, nervous and semi distracted from looking around the room. Leon had said Donnie and Lil Mikey would be in the same room they were going to, so he wanted to see them for himself. They were a little distance away, but not far. Two of the beds on the opposite side of the room cradled their sleeping forms, and while they looked a little banged up their slumber still looked peaceful. Glancing down he saw that April had noticed them too, but still chose to stay by his side. Having scooted up onto the table next to Raph, April protectively wrapped her arms around his forearm to offer comfort for both of them.

“Considering your leg is broken and you look like you have a fever, that’s a really nice answer to hear,” Don chuckled, not minding April’s presence at all. “Aside from your leg hurting, can you tell me how you feel? Does anything else hurt? Are you cold? Was that a shiver?”

The questions came quickly, and Raph felt his brain break off into clouded static as they continued to be thrown at him. Watching Raph’s expression blank out, Raphael had to chuckle before resting a hand on Don’s shoulder to remind him to slow down. Thankfully Don obediently snapped his mouth shut to give Raph a chance to respond. “Yeah… a little cold. Head hurts a little too, but not bad. Mostly just my leg.”

“Okay, that’s not too bad then. It sounds like you probably have an infection, so if Leo doesn’t already have you on antibiotics we’ll add some to the saline IV once we get that started on you,” Don spoke gently, keeping his hands on Raph’s knees and rubbing slightly. “I’ll also have Raph - my brother- fetch a heated blanket for when we’re done. It shouldn’t take too long, but unfortunately it’ll still be longer than taking care of Mikey’s shoulder. About three to four hours. Are you going to be okay to lay still for that long? My brothers and father can keep you company.”

It was a little disorienting, hearing what Leon usually told him coming from someone else. And the mention of Lil Mikey having needed surgery before too was alarming. But Raph tried to keep that in the back for now. His job was to behave, and let people take care of him. He had to remind himself of that as he nodded at the question. “Yeah, I can do that…. Can April stay with me?” He didn’t want to be alone. Leon would be there, but he would be busy, and Raph wanted someone he could hug if he needed to.

“You bet I’m staying, big guy. They couldn’t force me to leave even if they wanted to,” April spoke up, her tone leaving no room for discussion.

Raphael had to snicker as one side of his suspicions for who April was were confirmed. He couldn’t figure out if she were the other dimension’s April, or Angel, her mannerisms being so fiery compared to Mom April. And being a kid herself, she obviously didn’t have kids of her own, so that was another difference from their dimension’s April. He hadn’t been expecting their version of April to be close to the same age as the brothers, but he was glad to see that she seemed just as emotionally close to them. If not more. He didn’t think Mom April had ever called them brothers. She was usually joking with Master Splinter about them being her kids.

Don could only snicker at the response too, and nod in agreement. “Sure, April can stay. And if either of your other brothers wake up and want to come over before we’re done they can stay too.”

It was calming to hear that, and Raph’s nerve stilled slightly at the reassurance.

When Don saw that Raph didn’t have additional questions, he continued to explain what would happen. “Your brother Leo will be helping fix you up, so you can ask him anything you want during the surgery. We’ll just be behind a curtain so you don’t have to see anything scary, and your whole leg below your knee will be numbed up. We’ll get your bones straightened back out, and secured in place with some titanium plates that we can remove later if you want. Then we’ll get the wound all cleaned and stitched up, and move you to the other beds to get some rest. Does that sound okay?”

It sounded simple enough, and Raph was grateful Don didn’t give him any more details than that. He didn’t need to know how they were going to set his bones back into place. Just that they were. “Yeah, I’ll be okay,” Raph nodded, trying not to be too nervous. Four hours was a long time to have someone messing with the inside of his leg, but with the others there he tried to be confident it would pass quickly.

“Great!” Don chimed, giving Raph another pat. “I’m going to follow Leo to get washed up then. We’ll be back soon. And Raph will stay here with you.” he informed, waiting for another nod from Raph and April before he headed to the sinks.

Once Don was away, April looked directly at Raphael. “What happened to my other brothers?” she demanded, keeping her voice level but firm.

Raphael had his brows raise in brief surprise, but then gave a slight grin folding his arms slightly. “...How old are you?” he asked instead, aiming to cater his answer based on how well he thought she could handle the information.

“Eighteen,” April answered quickly.

“A highschooler?” Raphael asked for clarification.

“College,” April corrected.

“Oh, congrats,” Raphael responded easily, taking a seat on the nearby stool once more and resting his hands on his knees. “They’re doing alright, just worn out. We had a little run in with a crazy scientist that roughed them up and poisoned them, but they’ve already been given the antidote several hours ago. Lil Mike also got caught in some crossfire, so Don and Leatherhead took the bullet out of his arm when we got back. And Lil Donnie is recovering from a bit of blood loss, but Lil Leo seems to think he’ll be fine after his ‘reboot nap’,” he explained, repeating the term Leon had used.

“Mikey got shot?!” Raph blurted, his level of concern immediately maxing out as he shifted anxiously. If he hadn’t already resigned himself to stay put before now he would have been on his feet and off to check on his littlest brother.

But Raphael was quick to raise his hands to reinforce keeping him where he was. “Yes, but it’s already taken care of. Other than keeping the bandages clean and letting him sleep there’s nothing more any of us can do,” he assured.

“Want me to go check on them?” April asked, a little quieter as she looked up to Raph. She personally wanted to check on them, but she also didn’t want to leave Raph alone if that ended up making him feel worse. He did ask for her to stay there earlier, but at her question he gave a worried nod. “Okay, I’ll be right back,” April assured, giving Raph’s arm a pat before wiggling off the table to head towards Lil Mikey. Leon had laid Lil Mikey on his back when he’d tucked him in, but Lil Mikey had already rolled over on his belly, face squished into the pillow he was hugging with one arm. His injured arm was limp next to him, and when April reached over to slowly rub his back a few times he drew a deep sigh of content as he smiled softly in his sleep.

Grinning slightly, April huffed a quiet laugh before she reluctantly pulled her hand away and quietly headed over to Donnie. She didn’t want to wake them, but it was hard not to touch them after everything. When she reached Donnie she noticed he seemed only slightly less peaceful than Lil Mikey, but also wasn’t a fitful rest. Resting a hand on his cheek earned a tiny noise from him as he wiggled his fingers barely far enough out of the blanket to grab onto her arm, and rolled into her hand. April chuckled again, grateful that the stress seemed to smooth a little more from Donnie’s features from the contact. She stayed where she was just a little longer so she didn’t wake him by moving too much in too short of time, but then reluctantly pulled away to be able to report back to Raph.

Clambering back up to Raph’s side, April confidently hugged his arm again. “They’re okay. But I’m sure they’ll love a snuggle buddy once you and Leo are done,” she assured once she was comfortable again. She didn’t have to say much more than that for Raph to know how his brother’s were doing. They were safe, but they probably still had some emotional distress they needed to get rid of.

They weren’t able to get any more conversation off before the other three returned, Leon and Don having sterile gowns on and gloves, and Leo keeping his distance from them. “Eyyyy Raphie, I heard Donasaurus gave you the rundown. You up for laying down and getting fixed up now? We’re ready when you are,” Leon chimed, his light steps and finger guns towards Raph betraying his bubbling excitement.

The new nickname for Don from Leon caused Raphael to snort and choke on his breath, letting out a mix between a laugh and a short series of coughs. “W-what?” he laughed, looking over to Don, who could only give a soft sigh.

“He found out I really like dinosaurs,” Don offered as an explanation, both embarrassed and mildly amused, letting Raphael suffer in his smothered laughter.

Raph gave a small chuckle at Leon’s enthusiasm, and tried to keep his anxiety from bubbling up again. “You seem excited,” he commented, trying to divert the attention away from himself.

“Course I’m excited. This has got to be the coolest thing I’ve done in my life so far. I’m sure something will top it eventually, but for now I’m going to revel in the experience,” Leon admitted lightly, coming to stand in front of Raph. “Plus I get to help my big brother feel better. How could I not be excited?”

The comment earned varying types of chuckles from the others, and Raph’s shoulders relaxed a little more once again. “Okay. Raph’s ready,” he agreed with a nod.

With some shuffling around they were able to get Raph laying on his back on the surgery table, having to adjust it to fit him better. April scooted to sit at his head, her lap acting as an extra pillow for now, until she got tired from sitting in one place and needed to move. And as the curtain was pinned up to obscure Raph’s lower half, Raphael scooted the stool over and leaned on his elbows, finally asking the question that had been in his mind for a while now. “So kid… you like wrestling?”

The way Raph’s eyes lit up at the mention of the performance sport, a deep gasp pausing his answer, caused Raphael’s mouth to spread into a huge smile. Oh yeah. Finally someone with taste. “Have you heard of Ghostbear?” Raph asked, almost in awe having someone ask him about wrestling.

“Nope. But tell me aaaaall about him,” Raphael admitted with a chuckle, making himself comfortable for the retellings Raph would get into. April could only give a grateful laugh, mildly surprised that it would be that easy to keep Raph distracted and watching him babble on with fondness. What started as enthusiastic retellings of their favorite wrestling matches ended up becoming show and tell as Raph remembered he had a few videos downloaded to his phone. They couldn’t look up anything he didn’t have, but it was still enough to get Raphael cheering along with him, wincing at some of the moves, and laughing at the hype. The videos from Raph just motivated them looking up more videos online, which made the hours pass easily. Eventually April had to wiggle out from under the pillow, but she still remained next to Raph as he and Raphael continued to gush about their favorite sport.

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Previous Next

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Still on vacation, but I wiggled another one out amidst working on OC stuff =7= Enjoy~

[mail-posting]

Wanted to flesh out and add more headcanons to this ↑, so that'll be under the cut!

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

This post by my friend(?) Is basically what I mean by he's chaotic academia lol

⫘⫘ Messy as hell handwriting that only he can read, although sometimes he can't read it either and struggles with remembering what he wrote

i feel like he'd have a typewriter in his room for important notes because of this (no idea if those actually existed when idv takes place but we have cypher machines which seem pretty similar so-)

He's always, always doing something with his hands.

if he's not writing on his notes, he's doodling abstract shapes or concept inventions on them.

And if he's not doing that, then he either has something to fidget with or tinker on, or he's playing with his hands.

⫘⫘ speaking of hands, to me he only wears one glove because they irritate his scarred hand.

He should take regular breaks so his hands don't cramp and hurt, but he's usually so engrossed in his tasks that he forgets it's even a problem.

⫘⫘ He talks a lot! But sometimes it's not just the chatty type of talking but a cacophony of thoughts and ideas that his brain works him up into and needs to be dragged out of him by the only way he can.

If you're not his friend already and you end up on the listening end of one of these, as long as you don't actively recoil from it you've probably gained a ton of trust with him.

⫘⫘ Part of talking so much with everyone is that he has a lot of friends! But he doesn't really have many friends, you know? There's only a select few he trusts properly.

⫘⫘ His memory tends to go blank on things like the date or time.

He's worried quite a few people by not realising it was a holiday, and commenting on it with confusion.

More minor holidays like Easter and Valentine's Day are the easiest to forget, because people don't really decorate for them.

He has Several alarm clocks for timing, but he usually asks people to immediately come and get him if he's needed for something and isn't there.

Due to this, he's been part of things he wasn't supposed to be, because he generally trusts that he's just forgotten he was meant to be there.

Of course he has distorted dreams of the incident, but he actually has quite a lot that revolve around his prison time.

⫘⫘ He has a lot of night terrors. There's been so many nights where he's jolted up, heart racing, and couldn't tell what was real or fake or where he was for a while.

He was treated... extremely badly there. Any excuse to take frustrations out on a rich person was taken liberally by the other people. Prisoners, guards, all of them.

Lots of both physical and mental trauma helped to cement his broken mental state and lack of memory, as well. Being hurt like that is not going for your head.

After all, one of his canon dislikes are "implements of torture"

⫘⫘ He's pretty good at decoding when he decides to do a match! He avoids hunters pretty well too. Unfortunately, they don't like him very much...

He always HATES the rocket chairs. Not necessarily what happens after he's eliminated, although that's startling too. It's actually being strapped down to it that makes him panic.

He doesn't like being stuck to anything, and he especially doesn't like it when the hunters are usually nearby ready to hurt him.

⫘⫘ It's alright though, because he has his chain! He's augmented it in order to create the static charges you see in the matches.

There is just one teensy little problem. After coming to the makeshift hospital ward after blacking out while using his abilities a couple of times, he was asked what he did to keep his electricity generator from shocking him. He didn't have an answer.

As it turns out, he's rather numb in certain parts of his body. Including his neck. And as he was only focused on this invention being effective, he never quite realised that it might be a danger to have it near his already messed up brain.

He's trying to refine it so it doesn't do that, but he's advised to stay out of matches for now.

⫘⫘ he's not the best with self care. At all.

his hair is VERY messy, so it's tied in place with a lot of unconventional things.

Ribbons, wires, gears to wrap it around, clasps, and more. He even kept it tied with a pair of pliers one time. He just needs it up. It's a sensory thing.

But on a less light hearted note, he usually forgets to eat, and "forgets" to sleep while he's working.

If he does eat, he usually brings things like pastries from the main hall to his room.

And if he sleeps... The night terrors about killing his mentor are much more vivid when he jolts up to a desk that looks exactly as it always did back then.

⫘⫘ he doesn't work on his invention. He desperately wants to, but he can't.

Even for someone with good memory, trying to continue a project you last worked on YEARS ago, completely from scratch, is hard.

But he barely remembers what it was meant to do. His life's devotion, shattered to pieces in his mind because of a stupid impulsive accident he feels that he caused. It breaks him.

So he works on other things. Everything and everything will be tinkered with, because maybe he can remember what he wanted. Someday. Through desperate notes and ramblings and trying to weld the puzzle pieces together in his mind.

Grasping for it even as it slips away the more he tries to think of what it was...

⫘⫘ He has friends now. And he'll do whatever they want to do. Anything to distract himself from his plight.

They're the main reason he takes self care at all, besides keeping up appearances. He doesn't feel as alone when everyone is struggling with him.

His room is full of little gifts for them. Might as well put his knowledge to things that make them happy, right?

[rebelspykatie]

Gymnastics/Olympics AU Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2

For the first time since they arrived at the village, they’re in the same room at the same time, awake and staring at each other, unsure of where to start. The ride back to the village was loud, their teammates celebrating their continued success, how Eddie pulled himself together and nailed his routines. There’s another night of competition to go, so there’s no guarantee things are going to work out in their favor, but it’s a good start. 

When they got off the bus, silence blanketed them on the walk through the building until they were both seated on their beds. Eddie wants to take the longest, hottest shower of his life and ice his arm, but instead he’s left here, wondering where to even begin a conversation with Steve. Both of them on this precipice, knowing that something has shifted in the last few hours.

“Where did you learn first aid?” Eddie asks, and maybe it’s the dumbest thing that could come out of his mouth, but he has no control over the thoughts rolling through his head. There’s this static loop in his brain, the same ten minutes on repeat up there. He keeps coming back to Steve towering over him, blocking the cameras, this unreadable expression on his face and watching over Eddie with the utmost care, gentler on him than the medics on site. 

It seems to surprise Steve that this is the question Eddie goes with, too. His normally impassive face wrinkled in surprise, eyebrows lifting as he says, “This kid at my home gym, Dustin. He’s the most accident prone little shit. He kept trying to copy my sequences before he was ready and I guess I felt a little responsible for him. He almost broke his arm one day and I decided enough was enough. Forced him to go through the first aid courses with me so he could see the damage that he might inflict on himself.”

“Did it help?” Eddie has about a million other questions he wants to ask, but he’s trying to keep his cool about finally having a real conversation with Steve. 

Steve snorts, and it’s the best sound Eddie’s ever heard. It’s a welcome noise that he wants to elicit out of Steve again, if only to break the ever present silence he’s normally greeted by. “A little. You’ve have to meet Dustin to know that there’s truly no stopping that kid, but at least he stopped trying to copy my routines. He’s still a hazard on a good day, though.” 

“Sounds like a fun kid,” Eddie says, grinning at the fond look that’s taken over Steve’s face. There’s a beat of silence before he adds, “You didn’t have to do that, you know.” 

“Do what?” Steve seems confused, his forehead scrunching together. Eddie hates that everything this man does is endearing when just a few hours ago Eddie was convinced Steve hated him more than anyone else in the world. The crush he’s had since he was sixteen rushing back like a wildfire, blazing bright and strong in his chest when Steve turns that quizzical little frown in his direction. 

“Keep the cameras off me.” 

A flush sweeps over Steve’s cheeks as his gaze turns downward. He fidgets with the seam of the jacket he’s still wearing over his leo. “It was the right thing to do.”

“I thought you hated me.” 

Steve’s head snaps up at that. “Why would you think that?” 

“Oh well, the way you scowl at me from across the arena really sealed the deal, I think.” 

A grimace passes over Steve’s face, quick and gone in a flash, but Eddie hasn’t taken his eyes off of Steve. “I don’t hate you,” he admits quietly, shaking his head a bit, “I might have been- well I guess I was jealous at first.”

“Jealous?” Eddie lets out an incredulous little squawk. “You’re telling me that you, Steve Harrington, were jealous of me, Eddie Munson?” 

Steve rolls his eyes. “You don’t have to say it like that.” 

“No, no,” Eddie jabs a finger in his direction, “you don’t understand. I’ve been watching you since I was sixteen. You were my inspiration to keep going. I never thought I would be in the same room as you, let alone on the world stage competing together.” Eddie grabs his hair in two fistfuls, shaking his head. “You’re rocking my whole world here telling me that you’re jealous of anything I’ve done. That is like…some next level shit that I cannot begin to comprehend.” 

“You watched me?” 

“Everyone watches you, Steve. Sixteen year old me wouldn’t shut up about you.” 

And maybe he shouldn’t have said all that, but now there’s a curious tilt to Steve’s head, cheeks still flushed like he’s not used to praise, even after three consecutive Olympics where he’s won several gold medals. 

He’s realizing that the smile he’s seen plastered all over his television is fake. The soft, barely there one he’s witnessing now is foreign to him and it feels real and tangible and he wants to keep saying whatever he can to keep it on Steve’s face because it’s the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. 

Something flashes across Steve’s face, this bashful, sweet thing and he rubs a hand over the back of his neck, muttering something Eddie can’t decipher. He gets up and makes his way to Eddie’s bed, who’s once again caught looking up at him in awe. 

He reaches out for Eddie’s arm and asks, “How does it feel?”

And maybe their meet cute didn’t go so well, but this moment? This is like his dreams. Eddie’s breath is caught in his chest, the life long crush threatening to bubble to the surface where his skin meets Steve’s. He’s barely moving, barely breathing, waiting to see what Steve will do next. 

It takes way too long for Eddie to realize Steve is looking at him for an answer to his question. He chokes out, “Better.”

“It doesn’t look swollen, so I guess that’s good.” Steve’s hand trails up his arm, leaving goosebumps Eddie prays he can’t see. “And your shoulder? Did you twist it when you came off the horse?” Steve’s hand is like an iron brand on his shoulder, fire igniting under his skin as Steve feels around for an injury. 

“It uh-it does hurt a little,” Eddie doesn’t want to lie. Why would he if it means keeping Steve’s hands on his body? Does Steve even feel the tension in the room? Or is he completely oblivious to the direct connection between his hands and Eddie’s dick? “I was going to ice it when I got back here.” He’s not even sure how he manages to get the words out.

“I could help, I’m studying sports medicine.” 

“What exactly are you offering?” He needs a distraction to keep Steve from noticing the way his dick is about to tent the stupid little shorts they’re forced to wear. 

“A massage, if you want?” 

Part 4 | AO3

[ask-artsy-oncie]

Need advice, I feel extremely stupid and insecure about my art. Feel like I never progress and don't know how to draw from down below the chest cause when i do it seems really static. I've been drawing for years now and it keeps looking exactly the same, I'm an adult and my drawings look like made by a 14 years old. What should I do?

You need to study some fundamentals.

"Years" is unfortunately too vague for me to really deduce where you "should" be at, but I also want to emphasize that everyone grows and learns at different rates and you really should be patient with yourself. If you're an adult and the amount of "years" you've been drawing can be described as "a couple" or "a few", then don't beat yourself up for drawing "like a teenager". Most teenagers that draw the way they do have also only been drawing for a few years.

That's step one. Be patient with yourself. Like bitch all you want, honestly, please do that, because it helps get the frustration out if your system, but then take a deep breath and do your best to remind yourself to be patient. It's all part of the long process of refining your skill.

Next step, based on what you seem to be complaining about, is to study anatomy and realism, and do so loosely (I mean this literally, loosen up your wrist and you'll get much more fluid drawings). Sketch with pens, or colored pencils, stuff you can't erase and just have to roll with the punches when using. Layer your sketches - when I was doing figure drawing for my animation class, I would get the rough shapes down in a light orange and then add more detail with blue. You might also want to consequently work with paper that can withstand that, like multimedia or watercolor paper.

If you're a digital artist, try drawing traditionally to get the wrist movement down. If you're a traditional artist, try using a different drawing tool to exercise with different utensil weights. If you feel stagnant then you need to switch something up!!

I don't know you so I don't know your style, but since you came to me, specifically, I assume you have some degree of interest in cartoons. I regret to inform you that you'll build a better foundation if you study realism first, at least the basics of anatomy, because Shape (literally how something is shaped and the silhouette it creates) and Form (how something moves) are the two most important elements of cartooning, and you'll get that foundation from studying anatomy and real life. Line weight is another very important element of cartooning, so you'll also have to learn to balance that and what you want to go for.

Also? Don't be afraid to just change your medium. If you're feeling impatient with yourself (often what's going on when people describe themselves as "feeling stupid") then maybe your brain will pick up on a different medium faster. Papercraft, pixel art, sculpting, painting, 3D modeling, fucken, I dunno, wood carving!! There are many ways to create visual arts and a lot of ways to find fulfilment as an artist!! None of these are "easy" persay, but you might be able to learn some mediums faster than others depending on how your brain works, that's all.

I wish you good luck. I know how hard it can be (I mean, hell, I was literally just complaining about being out of practice drawing humans, and so I'm slowly crawling my way out of that hole). I hope I could be of some help.

[laurelnose]

I saw your Disco Elysium work skin on AO3 and I felt like I could add to it a bit. I thought it'd be cool if the formatting could break down if anything ever happened near the Pale. I'm pretty solid at programming so I'm definitely not asking you to do it, but if you had any suggestions I'll take them. Part of the problem is the fact that everything you've written applies to the entire workskin div, and my smooth brain was never that good at frontend in the first place.

hi! that sounds awesome; let me know if you do end up figuring something out and I’d be happy to link to your mods!

lol yeah I love div minimalism but it has its drawbacks. and tbh even I go a bit cross-eyed trying to read my own gradient code. 😅 It would probably be easier to mess with if you used the FELD Playback version, which applies the background to a div nested within the workskin. You can leave out the feld-overlay-start and feld-overlay-end divs if you don’t wanna deal with them. Also I cannot recommend this codepen enough for work skin testing, it really simplifies the whole business.

It then depends on what you would want “breaking down near the pale” to look like. My first instinct is to lean into the tape metaphor. Nesting the parts of the fic that take place near the pale in a div with a TV-static background and some negative margin fuckery to make it cover its containing div could work, maybe with some gradient work to make the static fade in and out. Or possibly have the tape background itself fade out. You could do this by making a new feld-body class with an added linear gradient with the background gray at the bottom fading to transparent over maybe, idk, 5-10em?, another where the linear gradient goes from top to bottom inside, and a third solid gray div with zero top/bottom margin that you could sandwich between them. Or use white instead of solid gray.

More subtle effects might be text-only: a series of classes for p tags with increasing transparency, for instance. Have you looked at THE FURY OF A SHATTERED MIRROR by ASpooky, especially chapters 11-15? They’ve done some really fantastic work with formatting there. The insertion of “Heart. Lungs. Liver. Nerves. Heart. Lungs. Liver. Nerves” in ch. 11 particularly seems pale-adjacent, since it can add signal from other sources.

[munchboxart]

Hi ok so there's been some big discussion in regards of the next Big Run due to datamined information that has been found. I'll be cutting this if you do not want to read anything about it

So there's been information found of egg count numbers for the rewards for the next Big Run that has not appeared before (Coxxs is a reputable dataminer, usually leaking stuff related to Salmon Run and such).

What has been speculated is that they are adding set threshold goals for the rewards, rather than keeping the "top x%" scores. It's been speculated this is due to the lower amount of players playing Big Run and with the scores rising each time.

Ok so the next section is just my opinion on it like ALWAYS LMFAO but if that's what you were only interested in, then you are free to stop reading.

I am kind of disappointed. I'd be less so if the scores were higher to simulate a bigger challenge + to be more in line with earlier Big Run scores that were around ~140 eggs. Like my non Salmon Run friends can get like, 130-140 easily, and even in Freelance I get higher scores.

I know there's some people that's going like "oh but that takes away the incentive to grind for a higher score" and others going "well it's not stopping you from grinding for a higher score technically". And yeah, but what I think is missing from this conversation is that it's lost it's replayability (unless you don't play Salmon Run much and/or don't care about the score).

Big Run is treated like Splatfest but for Salmon Run, and the reason why some people play the whole event is for their team to win right? Splatfest has a goal, which is why Big Run tries to have that same sort of incentive but with top % scores. To take that away and set a static threshold, then what's the point of playing after you've reached it? Sure you can get extra scales but like. Salmon Run is a secondary mode, a LOT of people doooo not give a fuck about it, so I do not think the extra scales would be enough unless you're mega Salmon Run brained.

I think the bigger problem is that it's probably just a game design issue rather than an "Overfishing" issue. Especially going back to the "Salmon Run Splatfest" comparison, as at least for Splatfest it's more generalized, while SR is more competitive and skill based. The whole Overfishing argument is another topic in of itself that I do kinda wanna talk about but maybe not this time, especially since a lot of people have already said their peace about it (will just say that it's a stupid argument).

I hope they add just some sort of bonus for people who do reach top 5% or SOMETHING because I still do think this is kind of lame. But also this has not been confirmed from the official devs yet so we don't know for sure. My annoying ass will be back to this post if it is or is not for confirmation.

[vinmauro]

wip weekend challenge

so here are the snippets per my poll found here. i don't know how to do math so i can't figure out how to do sentences per vote. so instead i'm doing each of them with sentences per total votes. so 24 sentences across the board. (next time i do a poll i'm going to add a little "acey's rules" where i change the rules based on what math is easier)

below are each of the snippets and hopefully for wip wednesday y'all will be excited to see more from these guys. & since bartender au was the winner i did write specifically more in it i'm just giving you a snippet of 24 ish sentences. also i don't want to spoil so i gave a snippet from tied part 2 rather than 3 but i promise i did write 24 sentences!!

another life

“No, I don’t think you want to,” her voice was soft but there was something else in it. Something a little sharper, hidden beneath the hurt she felt, hiding within the words. She didn’t think that he wanted to do this, that he wanted to end what they had. Because neither did she. Does he think that she does? There was another long stretch of silence. He fidgeted whenever he was upset or stressed, she could tell he was spinning his rings on his fingers, chewing on his lips. She knew everything about him. Or she thought she did. She liked to think she did. “Then what are we doing? Are we going to keep fighting for another six months until one of us ends up cheating and getting caught?” She closed her eyes when he spoke. She didn’t need to look at him. “Fuck! We don’t need a messy divorce on page six, right?” The word hung between them. Divorce. It was so final. It was so full of pain and anger and exhaustion from months of fighting. Months of growing apart. She had a tour coming up, he had a movie. They were going to be separated anyway so why not go for it completely? Sever ties between them, divvy up the things they own together, and figure out who gets the house in Beverly and who gets the apartment in New York.

daydreams

“You good, man?” Argyle’s voice filtered through Jonathan’s thoughts or lack of. It was almost like static was in his brain instead of the usual thoughts that kept him up at night. Without realizing it, he had calmed down, he had shut down his mind and breathing felt easier. He looked up at Argyle and blinked a few times. Is he good? “Yeah, I’m good,” he watched Argyle place the joint somewhere safe and moved to open up the side door. All of the smoke that seemed to accumulate inside the van began pouring out, it hit the sinking light of the sun in a way that made Jonathan giggle. Well, anything will make him giggle now, but it was kind of pretty. With slow hands, he managed to pick up his camera and take photographs of the last remaining tendrils of smoke. He hoped they’d show up the way he thinks they will. And without any warning, he turned to snap a picture of Argyle, who was half sitting and half lying, with a smile on his face. It was wide, close-lipped but it reached his eyes. He looked content. He looked beautiful. But he wouldn’t say that out loud. God. If he did that would be embarrassing. “Do you want to go hit some golf balls?” Argyle was already moving, not even waiting for Jonathan to say anything, grabbing a couple of golf clubs from beside Jonathan. When did they get there? And a bucket of balls. They were really going to hit some golf balls. He placed his camera down in its bag, keeping it in the van as he very slowly moved out. Or maybe he was moving regularly and his brain was thinking it was slow. Either way, he felt wobbly on his legs and every step made him laugh a little more. So, is this being stoned? He felt floaty, like a balloon, and if Argyle wasn’t going to hold on to him he was going to float away.

tied pt 2

The early morning light was a blueish gray, casting an eerie glow over the street. Birds sang in the trees, the morning routine uninterrupted as usual. Too early for the paperboys, too early for the commuters. No, the world around the house slept on, unaware, blissful. Peaceful. They knew, of course, as the whole town knew, of the tragedy that occurred in this house. What they didn’t know was that inside this house lived ghosts. Shells of the people who live here. The constant daily reminder that one does not. An empty bedroom left untouched and eagerly waiting for its occupant’s return. An empty fourth seat at the table, an empty spot for her to stare at while her father stayed quiet and her mother—her mother didn’t know what to do with herself. Swinging from her grief, one minute she’s inconsolable with loud sobs wracking through her body, sure to wake the neighbors and the next she’s putting every ounce of anger and hates she has toward the only child she has left. They didn’t know. They didn’t know the weight of grief that hung around the Cunningham family. They could see it, evident in their polite smiles and eyes full of condolences. They’re so sorry for the family’s loss. But they don’t know. They don’t know the depth of this loss. She is still finding herself falling into the deepest pit of loss with no telling when or if she’ll ever find the bottom. When she thinks she can’t possibly cry more, she manages to cry silently in her room. Sleep evades her. She’s watched the sun come up for days now. She barely eats. Both out of her grief and out of fear of her mother’s pointed wrath. She doesn’t take calls. She hasn’t called her worried boyfriend. She couldn’t deal with the outside world. Not yet.

bartender au

Nancy was about to open her mouth but luckily, for everyone in close proximity, someone else yelled from their spot a few feet from the bar. And continued to talk at high speeds as they neared the bar. “Good! You met! Argyle, Nancy this is Eddie Munson. He’s like some rockstar turned solo act or whatever. Anyway, he’s stranded here, in town, so I figured he could stay with us. What’s another body, yeah?” Robin Buckley loved to take in strays. Anyone who seemed down and out and needed someone to pick them up by the scruff of their neck. When Nancy landed in the city a year ago, Robin was the first person she sought out because she knew Robin. Before she got popular here before anyone knew her from social media or from performing when she was just a band geek that went to her college. Robin took Nancy in without even a second to think about it. She simply said sure. Eddie seems to be another stray. “No.” Was all Nancy could say, shaking her head as if it would make a point. As if she was the one who paid the rent or bills when she was not. Argyle had the apartment covered while Robin did the bills and let Nancy stay on a pull-out sofa in the living room. Even Steve paid his way through making family-style dinners for them whenever the four of them are home together. It isn’t often but it’s pretty appreciated. “Rob, I’m going to have to side with the angry one,” Argyle was using his apology voice, trying to let Robin down in easy and soft tones. “Wait, why?” Robin was looking between her roommates with confusion, her brows furrowed and her blue eyes almost clouded. “Theory three,” was all Argyle said and Nancy watched Robin’s confusion worsen before theory three dawned on her as eyebrows shot up and her mouth opened into a perfect circle.

before sunrise au

Someone had walked into the back of the train car, where he was sitting, and took a seat from across him. He was tall with long, black hair and there was something about him that caught Steve’s attention. He gave Steve a polite smile, one that he returned, before trying to go back to reading. “Sorry,” Oh good, he’s American. At least by the sound of it. No more language barrier. It’s been fucking hard being on a completely different continent, in different countries, and each of them looks at you like you’re the enemy because you only speak American English. “Do you know what they’re arguing about?” Steve had to laugh with a shake of his head. “Unfortunately, my time in high school was not spent learning and mastering the German language.” It was spent usually thinking about girls, occasionally boys, and trying to get Nancy Wheeler to fall in love with him. What a waste of four years. “Right. That’s German? Damn, makes sense then. We are in German-speaking lands,” the other guy looked around at the car, then out the windows, as if he was just now realizing where they were. “I was fine in Spain. I mean the vernacular is completely different but I could at least understand it, y’know?” “I take it you know Spanish, then?” “Yep, first language.” Steve was now completely forgetting about his book. There was something about this stranger on the train that captivated him. Maybe it was his cool exterior. Maybe he was just hot. Either way, Steve wanted this to keep going. Whatever the fuck this is.

^ most of these have been written on the fly so there isn’t a whole lot of editing going on.

[manonamora-if]

Retrospective 2022 (4)

Last post, I promise!

After looking back in the past, time to look forward!

Going back to the super cool infographic I made, there's still a lot. BUT, I will try to follow a resolution this year:

Get things off my desk and shelf it for good.

I honestly have too many working projects on my hands, too many "completed" projects I should finish (or give a nice send off like I did for Meeting the Parents). So this will be my goal for this year: finish and shelf as many projects as I can.

To this, I was tempted to add and not starting any new ones. But knowing myself, that's not something that I can realistically promise. With a couple of jams and comps I had planned on participating/hoped to take part since last year, I have a feeling there will be a few additions to the game pile by the end of the year. Will this be a terrible idea? 100%. Will that stop me from trying to squeeze a few jams/comps? Nope. Not at all. I have no self control...

With that announced, the more detailed expectations/schedule with no date below the cut.

OH! and continue to do word crimes :P

The "list" should be the planned arrangement (first to last) for the year. Unless I get bored and change my mind. Because, let's be honest, that's what my brain does best...

I won't give any timeline, because I can't keep it and I can't seem to be able to predict how much time all this work will take me. Maybe I'll be quick, maybe I won't. But I'll announce the release/updates about a week or two in advance.

P-Rix - Space Trucker

What I had been working on during the End-of-Year Holidays was editing the missing content and code it. This will include opening the world to the player and introducing new mechanics (technically already coded but missing the flavour text).

Since the UI is currently static, playing it on mobile is not advised. It will be a headache, but that needs to be done. Also needed: more QoL settings (animation toggle, timer/typewriter amount etc...).

On this blog, expect an actual shareable Intro Post with all relevant links/features sometimes... *shrugs*

La Petite Mort

Because of the 4h time constraint of the EctoComp, I wasn't able to include all rooms I wanted to include. You were supposed to explore the whole house/garden and not the current available rooms/space, and interact more with other NPCs. A proper/more-than-one-line ending was drafted too. The journal would get crossed off then a task was completed, and you'd get some codex/diary when finding some stuff about the Grandma.

So that's the plan on the addition (with some quick UI edits for the Dialog boxes). And the English translation to go along (because you should all be able to experience this fun puzzle/quest bit.

Oh! and an actual Intro Post as well.

Goncharov Escapes!

Made quickly and not edited before posting, Gonchy needs a bit of TLC. I also want it to fit the whole vibe I'm going for with all my projects (the logo/manonamora presents/etc...).

And a French translation (because I can/want to share my games in different languages). Since there are like 4k words total, it might not take me too long. When I get to it.

Exquisite Cadaver

Planned already for the last semester, but didn't get to it (yay writer's block!). Well not completely. I did open my file during the autumn, but didn't write more than a handful of words. The main issue with this project is that all rounds have an ending (distinct from the other endings) which have not yet been written or drafted (unlike the actual rounds). So I am left with 15-20 workable/potentially playable rounds but no endings. And, stubborn as I am, I don't want to upload a round without its linked ending.

So writing, editing, coding, writing, editing, coding, etc...

Maybe a complete release this year? Big Question Mark on it.

ALSO: that is when the whole game is done, I would want to try and port it into French. There are some HUGE challenges (gendered languages/adjectives going before OR after the noun/etc...), but it's something I'd want to take a crack at. BUT, that's like super future. Next year or year after that timeline-wise.

The Trials and Tribulations of Edward Harcourt

Chapter 3 coming when the edits are done. The ball is in MelS's court, but we are in the final round of editing (after more back and forth than the other chapters, we kept bickering about some sentences).

Any further update is dependent on MelS and the free time he has. Chapter 3 may be the only update this year, or maybe we'll have a couple more after it. We will seeeee...

The Thick Table Tavern

Now we are really going into the maybe territory. This would be dependent on the time/energy because there are a lot of things in there that either need fixing, re-coding, adding. Because this was always a large project, it won't be something easy to get off my desk (unlike the ones above).

BUT, if the stars align and ladida...

Addition to the story would come only in form of storylets (like the ones currently in the game) and other events (like the Brom shenanigan). Ideally, I would want to add the recurrent NPCs, but the 14-day story would need some/a lot of re-organising.

Opening the possibility of playing the full 14 days or creating a way to spend the coins earned.

Achievements!

Fixing/Balancing the mixing elements

More stuff that is written on a paper at home somewhere in a drawer...

I know some of you would want this to be ported for mobile, but I don't think it would be realistic considering the Bar Gameplay/UI. I might take a crack at it, but don't hold your breath for that one.

Crimson Rose & White Lily

The I really want to update this but words are not coming out project. The I definitely went over my head with this one project. But also the I promise this is not abandoned project. After updating the story 3 times last year (with the last one getting a long edit/re-write), I've had a hard time continuing/going back to the story itself.

If I can't get Scene 5 out this year (which is probable, it looks to be chunky), I would like to try to get one small variation out at least (the Scene 2 secret forking or the Harbour afternoon). Even that, I can't promise it happening. All dependent on the above projects.

Honestly, my only hope is being able to start writing more than 10 words on the document at this point... Maybe even if it is just a prompt.

SugarCube Template

Obviously this is coming back! Creating weird templates is really fun. And I want to create more shapes (like maybe a circle/oval?) with the page.

There's that promised Space/Sci-Fi one that are still not here (my SeedComp! entry will probably become that, but in a more simple form, and mobile accessible).

Since I've been working on adding more accessibility in my projects (hopefully it actually works for people), I've been wondering if having a basic Settings/Accessibility Macro Template could be useful to people. Like a Copy-Paste for the JavaScrip/CSS for Font Change, Toggle for Animation/Notification, Theme Change, KeyBinding. I might even try to get through the Audio macros once and for all and create a volume slider/mute button. If there are other options I should take into consideration, let me know!

SPS Iron Hammer

That's a super long reach. I would actually be amazed if I make some progress on this project honestly. Especially if I finish the ones above. The only reason I would start the re-writes of SPS IH without having completed the projects above would be because I threw the whole schedule out the window. I am trying not to do that.

Long story short on what is planned:

Puzzles!

More day-to-day job stuff (with more interactivity for each)

A nicer Codex page and functioning stats bars.

Mysteries :o

A brawl.

And more :P

Other

Didn't I just say I'd try not to be involved in Jams/Comps this year? Welp I lied.

There's the @seedcomp-if that I am involved with. Round 2 which is starting soon and last until March 1st. Since I released a seed for the first round, I do want to make a small 5-10min entry for the second one (think Gonchy size/style).

Having done that, I am kind of interested in organising smaller Jams (à-la Fortnight Fiction during the height of Covid or the Sci-Fi Twine one last month). I'll wait until the SeedComp is further ongoing, maybe somewhere in March to plop something. Probably with a word count/time limit.

Also, the @if-confessions's box is still open. Feel free to drop something! It's all anonymous :) It's been fun to get stuff and add to The Discourse TM. Would be nice to get more positive/happy ones tho...

And finally, #coding support is still a thing. Still ongoing. Still down to make tutorials, even for small/basic stuff. Just drop an ask with your question!

I missed answering coding questions...

That should be it? A lot planned, a lot of things I hope to achieve, a lot I will prob not do because I decided to just do jams this year :P Who knows!

2023 is going to be fun!

Last note: I should try to play a few more games/WIPs, and write some reviews...

[pr3ttyl1ps]

two steps forward and one step back

cw: suicide, death, depression | vent

these days i wonder when my lungs will fail me. i wonder when the smoke will overwhelm my body and turn me back into the dust i originated from. i feel like this has always been a feeling i’ve had my whole life.

i think most people would call this depression? i couldn’t say for sure.

but for pretty much my entire life, i’ve been waiting to die. i’ve been watching the clock tick as the days slip away from me. i’ll go through the motions to get me through each day, but no one can really understand how much i struggle to feel like any of what i do is worth anything because the same thought echoes through my brain: “i’m just gonna die anyway.”

i’ve tried to repurpose this statement over the years in order to try and live life to the fullest. life’s too short, so why not make the best of it? but at the end of the day, eventually it all boils down to the same doomsday feeling: life’s too short, so what’s the point in trying?

this line of thought has severely clouded my judgment. the truth is, there’s not much i can really do about it. i’ve just been trying to accommodate these feelings and work around them to make it work best for my life. it will be an eternal struggle, unfortunately, but there are ways i can hold myself off for at least a few more years.

despite dealing with this, i force myself to really take a step back to reflect on how far i’ve come. i planned to die at 18. here i am, about to turn 22, and i’m still kicking it as best i can. i recognize that it’s unfair to myself to downplay my growth as a person. who i was when i had a knife pointed at my chest that night in february of 2021 is not the same person i am today, sitting on the couch in april of 2024. i think this is why writing is so crucial to me, because sitting here rereading the line prior to this, it never hit me how short a timeline 2021-2024 really is. it feels like eons ago when it’s really only just 3 years. time works in such a silly way, and my growth has felt really rapid.

the idea of killing myself has resurfaced these past few months. i can trace it back to september. i held a knife to my chest again. i threw up. i laid in bed, shaking. i don’t remember what happened after that. that month was a blur. and the months after that. i think this month is the clearest my mind has been in a while. at least in the sense that i can actually hear myself thinking.

i don’t think i’ve ever really talked about how my brain functions when i’m at the lowest of the low; what i hear in my head when i feel like i want to end it all.

(it’ll be freeing to talk about it now. i feel safe talking about it here, knowing someone out there feels the same way i do. i’m screaming into a crowd of people that i’m not expecting a response from, i just want for someone to read this and understand themselves better or to just understand me.)

when i hit a point where the end of a knife is pointing back at me, you know what my brain hears? absolutely nothing. it’s white noise at best; a distant buzz; static. but my brain doesn’t only hear static in the moment i feel like completely altering my life. it had already been sounding that way for a while. nothing is coherent. it’s like when a swarm of bees fly past and all you can hear is one big giant sludge of buzzing. or when a car zooms past you and you can’t hear the engine, you just hear “vvvvvroom.” my brain can’t pinpoint one single thought. the noise my thoughts make eventually turn into a loud, incoherent, headache inducing, buzz. and attempting to pinpoint a single feeling from that mess just adds to the stress; trying to find a needle in a haystack. so when anyone asks me to at least try to figure out where the root of the problem is, i shut down. it’s too much work to dig in there.

it’s my own fault that i end up that way and no one else’s. i may not be able to afford therapy, but there are preventative measures i can take to regulate the commotion before it becomes unbearable. with the added stressors and responsibilities as i grow older, i find it’s hard to tend to my brain as often as i need to. there’s not much i can do about that. but i need to stop burdening myself by ignoring the fact that my brain is chemically imbalanced. i don’t like to admit that something’s wrong with me, but i think that’s a step i’ve been missing; accepting that this is the brain i’ve been dealt to live the rest of my life with.

i think for the past few years, i’ve been working on trying to assign the blame as to why my brain is the way it is. most of it goes to my dad. it’s fascinating to think about how impactful childhood events really have on your development. what really makes me mad is i’m left to deal with the consequences of his mistakes, and he doesn’t know it or understand. i’m afraid he never will, but that’s not up me is it haha?

i’ve come to accept that this is just it. there’s really no “fixing” it. just a matter of not letting it consume me; to tend to this harsh reality and not let the cyst get too big before it’s too late.

i thought about killing myself today.

it’s hard to admit out loud. it’s a voice that just won’t go away. maybe it’s not how i genuinely feel, but my brain has it’s own brain i guess? that’s really silly to say haha. but i say that to say it really comes out of nowhere; when i least expect it. i have the thought even when life feels like it’s going good. it blindsides me and that’s when i’m hit with a wave of depression. and it’s not one’s fault at all that i have the thought. it’s my own. the thought went away in about an hour. i just have to let it pass. therapy would be nice so i wouldn’t have to push it down. it would be nice to talk to someone about it. i don’t know. the internet is just beautiful in that way. like i said, i don’t expect anyone to respond or even read this whole thing. i just post it in the hopes it will land on someone’s eyes.

it’s hard to live life when you love it so much, but feel like you don’t deserve any ounce of the good that can come with it. thanks dad, i guess.

but i know life is so much bigger than me, and that i’m grateful to have been born to experience life’s most exciting and mundane beauties. i may feel like a waste, but to cut my life short would be an even bigger waste. i know that.

two steps forward and one step back as they say. i look forward to the next two steps i take.

[luicifellt]

So I got some issues..

Emotional issues. This complicates communication greatly..

To try and explain my thoughts, and thought process to my new partner I decided to write some of it down. To help get him an idea.

Because I'm inept at explaining my feelings and emotions.

Beneath the read more will be a lot ... but I need to have it out somewhere. Maybe someone will read it.

I dont know what I hope to get out of this. But its fairly dramatic so ... someone might like to read it.

These are snippets of thought.

Sadness

Anxiety

Stress

Loneliness?

Self hatred

Self disgust

Can't do anything right

Won't finish what's started.

Anything created will be hated, and NOT good enough. At all times.

Am I toxic?

Do you love me? Yes?

I believe you..

But Why?

Not pretty, not talented, not smart.

Kinda phat.

Emotional but can't express it.

Depressive episodes and mood swings...

Females am I rite?

Why bother ?

Why would you pick this? There's better options.. hopefully.

Seems like a mistake to invest in me. Though I'm so happy you did pick me. Never thought I'd have a relationship.

So good to me... can't give anything back though. Its not enough.

Can't handle myself well. Will lash out..

Seems like a animal adoption form. Don't adopt me. I look soft, looks are deceiving.

No motivation hates Self for that

No inspiration hates Self for that

No dreams or aspirations hates Self for that

No hobbies doesn't do much hates Self for that

Probably the worst conversationalist. Only has about 5 witty bright and fun days where true humor truly shows (a year) hates Self for that.

Selfish! can't stand myself, but still want the nice things.

Egotistical hates Self 90% of the time the other 10% is spend on Self complimenting ???

Hates Self for that. Thanks brain.

Horrible body image. Hasn't realy looked at self more that absolutely necessary in 15 years. When mirror is used:  -10 don't recommend.

Uses self deprecating humor to feel better. Bad trait.

Can't control bad thoughts, let's it spiral like a junji ito story.

See! can be funny..is not enough though, is it.

Friend(s) will tire of this.

Got nothing to add to the group.

Can't (but should) find the energie and motivation to change that short term.

Long term probably not worth it. Tho Time will move anyway.. why have people waste it.

Fear of abandonment, fear of being left alone. Also weirdly craving it, to get it over with.

Convinced feelings can be turned off and broken. Maybe it should.

Who's kidding, sobbing mess in private! But can barely cry in company. Why. Nobody knows.  *ugly cryier

Should honestly, cry more... should cry more honestly. Shouldn't let it vester for months. But I will.

No fysical energy. No creative energy. Stuck In the limbo of adult life.

Gets envious of people that know how to express themselves and have dreams and can make art and spend their time productive. Hates Self for that.

Self hate trumps envy. Keeps me grounded.

Don't know where the balls to hold out like this come from.. weird episodes of righteous ideas on improvement and finding motivation to improve. Can and will not last longer than 5 to 7 business days.

Tried psychologic help. Makes head messier and can't express any thought or feeling without feeling like crying.. main reason to keep it in.

Why does it bother me? Will cry literally everytime, feelings need to be discussed. No one wants that... yes. I decided that, because I don't want that.

Convinced that whatever power the universe holds in its dark matter, it manifests as bad luck.. consistently.. Time and experience have proven this to me.

Maybe just pessimistic.

Definitely just pessimistic.

Good taste in music tho. Bit static perhaps.

Has grand ideas. Doesn't know how to express them. Dissapointing.

Will overthink most things. Takes pride in well thought out plans... overthinking still more a problem, than a benefit.

Loves deeply for a lot of things but can't invest in one thing. Took a long time to convince myself I could love. Inexperienced.

Wish I could do better for you. Wish I could like me more.

Has hope to get better with help. But the spirals... Make me tired.

Has thought about dying. Knows this is a no no. Been through this before at years 12 through to 18. Never again. Not like that.

Weight loss helped.... people around me, to behave normally.

With the exception of a few, people would be degrading, look down on me, find me disgusting.

What I later learned however is that its usually not okay to express these thing out loud, to the persons face... especially when underage.

except when you're fat apparently because people would... constantly, daily, even if they didn't know me. They'd still tell me in passing.. as if hearing it would change anything in that moment.

I have had people do double takes and track back so they could tell me I'm offensive to the eyes.

I wish i made that up to be dramatic.

I feel like I have lived 2 lives.

But the first one seems so far away. It's not just the "getting old" part, nor the nostalgia factor. I suspect I simply blocked out a lot of it. Memories have more gaps than I care to admit.

I grief over this often. Sounds dramatic, again... but its the truth. I feel like a big part of Self got lost in those years and I'll never find it again.

Regrets and heartbreak over small things seem, so big when you have a lot of them.

It hurts.

It hurts to look at all the stuff I possess and gathered over the years.

All the art supplies all the expensive materials. The tools, the airbrush, the paints and canvases. The clay, the silicone, the make up...

They mock me everytime I catch them gathering dust in the closet, or drawer. They take up endless amounts of space... but I can't get rid of it.. because, what if.. as if.

Not having these things hurts more...

I can write pretty decently. To bad everything written feels like a edgy YA novel. Dropped.

Reading used ro be a comfort.. now a pressure at the back of my head reminding me of how it USED to be. Reading now no longer an adventure, or practical pass time.

Feels like wasting time. ( and money)

Sometimes it feels like one more dissapointment away from running on empty.

No thoughts, head empty.

Sounds appealing. Where do you sign up.

Imagine being simultaneously most loved and taken care off by a partner, for the first time in your life... but also the most lost.

Feels like a disappointment.. one of many. How much more do I have, before it's to much for me, or the people around me.

Maybe i SHOULD write angsty YA novels.

Maybe not.

Wonder where the irrational thoughts and fits come from. Could it be trauma? Could it be drama? Maybe in another life I was a theatre kid after all.

Goals: be part of it, stop being a spectator.

Pick a personality that you like and stick with it. Be useful.