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AAAYYYYY SKECTH BOOK!!!

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Why not me?

Ivan/till

No alien AU

Inspired by this artwork by @carlozw

Chapter 1 of 2, 4007 words, 99.99% angst,

Till is more emotionally mature than I meant to make him so he’s a little sillier.

Tw - general TW of death and all that entails

hehehe Please reblog if you enjoy! :3

ff under the cut.

It’s summarized pretty well by the first few sentences.

A weight on his shoulder, a squeeze around him. Maybe even an all too familiar head pat. Till knew what was going on,

 Ivan couldn’t even leave him alone through the afterlife.  He was sure of it. 

That freak had somehow found a way to bother Till, even though he was dead. And it was starting to get hard to bare, 

Till sat in a criss-cross position, drawing. Not really paying attention to what, it had been about a week since Ivan died, and his fucked up producers was going to make Till show face on stage in a few hours. Just saying a few things about the… stunt Ivan pulled, and he did not want to do that. 

Till’s face reddened at the idea of it. He couldn’t believe that selfish- annoying- Idi- 

Till jumped out of his train of thought- A strong hand patted his head, he could feel it but it wasn’t there. 

“Fuckin- Ivan-“ Till swatted his hands above his head. Even though he was alone in his bedroom, he felt stupid and if anyone else saw him, they’d probably call him crazy. 

Till stared at his paper, he had drawn the stage. Where Ivan was shot. By some insane fucked fan. Of his. His fan. It wasn’t Ivan’s fault that Till was a worse singer. If Till sang better that fan wouldn’t have flipped out and shot Ivan. If Till had moved faster then he might’ve been the dead one. Not Ivan. 

Till stood up. Suddenly very- something he didn’t know what he felt but he was pissed about it anyway, 

“God fuck this-“ He went to go punch a wall. Even though this was an apartment rented by his producers, they would have to pay for the damage. 

He hit something that’s definitely not a wall. 

“Fucking- IVAN-“ He hit him again. And again, and again, and for once in his 17 years of living he would have done anything to have been able to see Ivan’s face. Probably smiling like the weird ass freak he was. 

He slumped against the wall? Ivan? He actually didn’t care. He was tired. Really fucking tired of having to feel like this. His face scrunched up in that empty angry way. When you want to scream with frustration but there's no air in your lungs to scream with. Till stared at the floor of his stupidly fancy building.

Ivan’s fucking dead and Till just gets to move on? He gets to go show face today and make thousands of dollars while Ivan just sleeps in his coffin. It’s not fair. Till should be in the ground right now. Not Ivan. 

Till leaned more of his weight on to the wall(ivan). He exhaled in less of a sigh and more of a last-breath kinda way. He felt dizzy. Exhaustion taking hold in his bones. Like he had never not been tired. “Why not me?” He asked under his breath. Knowing no one would hear it. 

He fell asleep standing there. 

He woke up an hour or so later. Lying in his bed, his heated blanket on the highest setting and wrapped around him. He curled in on himself. Not really remembering how he got to his bed but he didn’t really care. He checked the time. 

1:45ish. He has to get up, like. Now if he wants to make it to the stage in time. “Fuck this…” Till Weakly hit his head on his pillow a few times. He didn’t want to get up. 

Something tugged at his arm. Tug. tug. Till looked at his arm, above the blanket. Something definitely was tugging his arm. 

“Ivan-” Till knew he sounded insane. It was kinda stupid, really. But what else would it be? He wasn’t exactly close with any other dead person. 

“Augh-” Till grunted as one swift, strong tug had him upright in a sitting position. Tills head spun from the sudden change. He felt weak. And tired. Really, really tired. But of course, the producers wouldn’t care that he was being haunted or that he was grieving or that he was tired. They’d threaten him. Or his mom. Tell him that her wellbeing rests on his shoulders. And he knows it does, They wouldn't be able to afford her treatment otherwise. It sucks but that's how it is. And Till loves his mom. He isn’t a quitter. 

Till stood up, and as he did, he felt Ivans hand pat his shoulder. Which was oddly tame and almost comforting. He sighed, and then got dressed in the outfit his producers instructed him to. All black, the shirt having a wide neck that was slightly off of the shoulder. The same outfit he wore in round six. The same outfit Till wore when Ivan died. Sick fucks. Didn’t give a crap about him. 

Whatever. Not like he had a choice. 

Till went to the bathroom, did his own routine rather swiftly. Covered his eyebags with concealer.then swiped eyeliner on his eyelid. Per request of the producers, he put on some subtle black eyeshadow. Till looked in the mirror. HIs brain still felt asleep. Fuzzy. Sedated almost. He just looked at himself. Thin. Thinner than usual? Tired. More exhausted than usual? He looked kinda dead. Ironic all things considered. Till felt like crying. His nose burned like he was about to. But he couldn’t cry. He just put on makeup.. 

He was hugged from behind. It was horrifically comforting. If this was all in his head he was gonna need to have some serious medication to fix it. It felt so real and as much as Till wanted to believe it was real there was always that doubt. ‘You’re crazy. Insane.’ Till didn’t really know how to feel. Never did anymore.

 He wanted to quit this stupid idol job and do something with his stupid life. But he loved singing. 

He wanted to cry but also didn't want to wallow in his own self pity. 

He wanted to see Ivan’s stupid face but also wanted to forget him more than anything.

His life was just stupid contradictions and ultimatums. Hell- his own birth was due to a failed abortion. His mother wanted to get rid of him but couldn’t. 

Till slammed his fists down on the bathroom sink counter. 

Ivan pulled him away from the sink. Holding his hands, still behind him. Till squeezed his eyes shut. Willing the tears to go away. He went to check the time. Ivan held his hand still. Sometimes Till wasn’t even sure this was Ivan. He thought Ivans soul? Spirit? Whatever. Would have been troublesome. And chaotic. Not cuddly and touchy-feely.

 Maybe this is what Ivan had wanted. To be near to TIll. To be able to hug and hold TIll. Maybe it would’ve been easier if Till had let him. Why’d Till even push Ivan awa-

Till's phone rang. He scrambled to pick up his phone. Ivan let go of him. Tills phone read “evil assholes” The producers. “Fuck my life I guess.” 

Till answered. 

“WE NEED YOU HERE IN 5 MINUTES. NOW. THE TAXI IS ON THE WAY. BE READY, IF YOU’RE LATE YOU BETTER CATCH A TAXI TO THE HOSPITAL BECAUSE THE BILLS ARE GONNA GET REAL HARD TO PAY REAL FAST.” The producer on the other end practically screamed through the phone. Good thing Till hadn’t cried. He wouldn't of had time to redo his makeup. 

“Yes. Sir.” Till spoke through his teeth. Enraged he was being held by a leash like a dog. He wanted to punch that fucker in his jaw for threatening him like this. Till hung up aggressively. A silent fuck you to the producer. 

Till walked out of the bathroom. Seething. So fucking angry. Too. Fucking. Angry. Till could feel his breath hitch like he was gonna scream. But couldn’t because this was an apartment with thin walls. Didn’t want any of the stupid rich ass CEO’s next door to flip out. Instead, Till sat on the cough to get his shoes on. Slamming his fists down on his knees hard enough to bruise before slipping his shoes on.

Till, now with his shoes on, had a moment. Briefly mind you. But a moment. To be really. REALLY. Fucking angry. Nothing even mattered to Till right now he just wanted to hurt and hurt and hurt. Whether it be him or someone else didn’t actually occur to him. Till gripped his own shoulders like a crazy person. Furious he had to live like this. Why’d his mother get sick? What did he ever do to deserve such fucked up shit to happen?  

“Fuck. THis-” Till hit his own head with the ball of his hand. He didn't even know what to do with himself. He just wanted to hurt something. He stood up. Practically shaking with anger. He couldn't even remember why he was angry. Hardly. He should be used to being held by a string like this, it had happened since his late middle childhood. When his mom got sick ad his life was turned upside down and the fucked organization that ran this show found him and abused him until he was so completely dependant on them he couldnt escape. Honestly? “Why am I even surprised!? THEY NEVER EVEN FUCKING HELPED!!!” Till was trying to stop from yelling but he had let that one slip. He trembled with anger and he couldn’t put it anywhere. His hands balled into fists seemingly on their own. He turned towards a wall and began punching. Harder. Harder. Harder. His hands hurt bad. His hands were scraped now. He kept hitting the wall and then-

“Till- you have a ride prepared. It is here now.” A higher pitched voice called through the door. Snapped Till out of his rage. 

Till looked at the door and then his hands. Shaking like he was in a snowstorm. His left, index knuckle bloodied. He didn't have time to care. It would just make the producers look bad. Till didn't mind that at all. He exhaled. And turned to the door. Putting on a straight face. Trying to hide any evidence of his breakdown from before. He could only imagine he looked horrible. He hadn't eaten in 2 days. Hadnt slept well since Ivan died. He hadn't even hardly gotten out of bed since Ivan died. Only getting up this morning because he had to.

Till ran his hand down his face, then opened the door. 

Till had made lots of mistakes in his life, but walking out that door? Probably the worst. He was bombarded with paparazzi, 3 professional grade cameras. Tons of other people with their phones out. How do they always find where he lives? What the fuck. 

“Till, I'm so sorry they just followed me and then I couldn't get them to leave-” The girl apologized, but Till just nodded. Deciding he was gonna mentally tap-out right about now. Already overwhelmed as people yelled questions at him(that he of course, ignored.) 

They practically crawled through the crowd and to the taxi as he got in, it finally being a bit quieter. 

“I’m so sorry- I didn't know if i should call security or not, I hadn’t meant for it to get this out of hand.” The woman looked like she was going to cry, and Till knew it wasn’t her fault. 

“Next time just call security, they’re here for a reason. It’s not your fault they don’t know how to act.” Till looked out the window.  But then decided to just rest his head on the front passenger seat. Already far too tired to be doing this. 

He felt a hand on his shoulder, he went to look and woe-and-behold, no one. Well, not technically no one. Ivan. The woman driving had shivered, under her breath, saying something about how cold it was in the car. Promptly turning up the heat in the car, despite it being 80 degrees. 

Ivan hadn’t felt cold to Till. He had always seemed somewhat cold when he was alive, but he was always warm to Till. Something of comfort even. Till always felt far from Ivan when he was alive. Though now Ivan felt so close to Till it was suffocating. 

Kind of like the night after it was made public that Mizi was kidnapped, almost a year ago. Ivan had visited Till. He had felt so weirdly there. And close. He was so real then even though usually Ivan had felt fake and far away. He had even asked before hugging Till. Who at the time was so distraught and scared that he had let Ivan hug him. It would have been normal for any other person, but the softness and vulnerability was so new and different. It was really nice. Which is something Till didn’t know he could have with Ivan. Till thought about that night often. He had sat on the couch with Ivan and he wrapped his arm around Tills shoulder. They hadn’t said much that night. Just hello, goodbye, and Ivan had asked- “Can I hold you?” That was really it. Ivan had hugged and cuddled Till while he cried. But since then they hadn’t said much. And then Ivan was shot. And died. And Till could officially say that this was the worst year of his life. The only thing that could make it worse was his mom dy- 

Don’t jinx it. Do not finish that fucking sentence. 

Till had started to think he was the one hurting the people he loved. The day before till was going to confess to Mizi she was kidnapped and had not been heard from since. The day that he had started to really think about Ivan as more than just an annoying guy he’d known for years he died. He died. 

The car stopped. Great. He was at the place he thought of as hell on earth. It was so fucking hot in the car yet the woman driving still had the heat on. 

He sat in the car. Wishing a crazed fan would shoot him next. But he wasn’t shot, so he opened the door. 

Y’know how earlier he thought he had made the worst mistake of his life? Well this was a worse one. 

People, people, people people- Till had decided then he HATED people. There were hundreds. Some with microphones and news reporters. Some were just phones. Some polaroids. He hated being watched like this, fuck his stupid life.  

A man holding a large camera asked him a question, loud enough that he could actually hear outside of the loud ambience of a crowd this huge. “Had you been dating Ivan before he was shot?” 

Why? The. Fuck. was the first question he was asked. Not. ‘Are you okay, how have you been? Why are you back so early?’ 

No. It had to be about that stupid thing- Ivan- Fucking hell Ivan why did you have to kiss me- and then die?! 

Till thought he might’ve punched the guy. Then he felt a strong hand grab his. Ivan. It made Till tired. Sad. Less angry. So he did what he did best and ignored the question. Just wanting to get backstage and away from these people. 

And he did just that. 

Once backstage, Ivan had let go of his hand. And Till felt an emptiness. Ivans soul was very… comforting? Safe? Whatever. 

Till didn’t get to feel safe here. 

As he walked through the entrance to the room directly leading to the stage, several makeup artists rushed him to a seat and began working. Obviously, they had to make him as emo as possible. Heavy eyeliner, using contour to make him look more tired than he was. Trying their best to really make him look like he was mourning- but in an aesthetic way not “I’ve barely eaten or slept in days because I’m, so horrifically distraught and empty and of course the soul of my dead person is haunting me why wouldn't he?” kinda way. 

Once they had finished, The producer. Anakt. Came up to him. Great. 

“WE NEEDED YOU HEAR 10 MINUTES AGO!!!! WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN???” 

Till looked up at him, a sickening amount of rage washed over him. He stayed silent though. 

“UGh- fuck this. Just go out there, say some kind of basic-ass eulogy, confirm you are NOT. gay or queer supporting at all, tell them that round 7 is in two months and then get off the stage. I’ll be deducting 10% of your paycheck for your tardiness. Don’t let it happen again.” Anakt walked away. Leaving a Till trembling with rage and fear.

He stood up, and made face. 

On this stage alone is a privilege. Usually only given to the winners of Alien Stage. But of course, Till is standing here because he wasn’t shot. 

He walked up to the microphone. Sick with so many emotions. Resisting the urge to cry. And he didn’t know what to say. The crowd went silent. 

Till figured if this was gonna be about Ivan, this was gonna be honest. Something he never was with Ivan. 

“Hello everyone. I-” Till gulped. his throat already dry. “I’m here to talk about the events that happened 6 days ago on this stage. The day that Ivan-” He paused, debating his words. “The day that Ivan was murdered. Shot 3 times through his back.” Till swallowed tears. 

He looked at the crowd, the one that was usually cheering. But now dead silent. 

He felt a strong hug. Arms wrapped around him. He decided to keep going. 

:”I’ll miss him. A lot. And I don't think my life will ever be the same again.” Arms squeezed tight. Till let it happen. 

“I think I deserved to have died on that day. Taken Ivans place.” Despite being a celebrity, Till wasn't good at words and struggled on what to say next. Ivan rested his head on Tills. It felt like it was just him and Ivan. Words came easier. 

“But I didn't. So it's up to me to keep living now. I’m sorry that this is how things ended up.” Till sighed. 

Ivan pressed his forehead to Tills. And Till leaned into it. He probably looked a little weird, but who cared. 

“If I could say something to him today I’d say this: 

Ivan, you have been the person I've been closest to for almost 10 years. You have made me happy and mad and sad and made me feel just as much as I didn't know I  could. But despite that you’ve always been fabricated. Hidden. Far away. Yet I could always feel your warmth. LIke the sun, so far away yet warm all the same. 

Maybe under different circumstances we’re normal kids. Not forced to fame. Not used liked dolls. Maybe we bicker and fight but we never have to worry about faking it for PR. Maybe you’re genuine and real and we’re close and we hang out after school and play video games. 

That’s truly impossible now. And I think- I think I hate the man that shot you. Which is hard for me to say because I don't want to hate anyone. But I do. I know I do. And I think there was a time in my life where I hated you. For always being so clingy yet distant. For always being so blunt but hidden. It pissed me off. 

But now I don't think there's anything in the world that would make me hate you. Nothing at all. The only reason I hated you is because no matter how much I tried I couldn't understand you. You were so fixated on me. But was never honest. Never real.  Never close- I’m just going in circles now. But anyway. I didn’t understand you, and I still don't, and I don't think I ever will understand you. And I guess I'm stuck with that now because you’re gone. Sometimes I think you’re not really gone. Sometimes it feels like you’re right there. That I could reach out and feel your stupid hand. Or that if I could just squint a little harder I could see your stupid smile. But I guess you are really gone. I’ll never know you. And that's my biggest regret. I think. 

Since you’ve died I've barely slept, eaten, or got out of bed. Since you’ve died every morning when I check my phone, I feel something in me die when there's no good morning. Every night, I feel like my whole routine is thrown off because I don't get a good night's text. I don’t think I've had any real conversation with someone since you’ve died. The fucked up part of someone dying is that they’re existence doesn’t end. They still exist, just not with you. They’re still alive in an unfulfilled routine, a memory, a dream, a feeling. The hurt. And it's the worst. Like how when you empty a cup of water, you’ll get thirsty again but the cup is empty, and eventually you die of dehydration. And there's nothing I can do to fix it.”

Till couldn’t stop from letting a few tears slip. Ivan squeezed him, holding him like he was trying to protect him from himself. Till swallowed and kept going. He knew his producers were much more than furious at this point. Figured he could keep going. 

“I said that I wish I had died that day, not you. And that's true. Ever since you died all I have been able to think of is ‘why not me?’ ‘Why wasn't I shot?’ And I still wish I was dead right now instead of you. Though I don't think I would've wanted you to suffer like I am right now. The last thing I would have wanted was for you to be forced on stage to excuse your death while you’re still grieving. So there's gotta be a reason I didn't die. I don't know what it is. But I know that there has to be one. Right as you died. Hands around my throat, you smiled. You smiled like this was the best day of your life, and maybe it was. Maybe you were surprised, but happy with your death. Maybe you wanted it. You always were selfish. Always just doing whatever you wanted- or maybe you didn't want it? But you had accepted it anyway. I don't know. I could ask questions like these all day. It doesn’t matter.”

Ivan was holding till so gently. With so much caution and love- and Till was crying. Fat, hot tears rolling down his face as he tried to only look at his feet. 

“I don't know what was hoped to be accomplished with this. But I did it. So, before I go, I want to confirm two things.” 

This might be the true, real, most horrific mistake of his life. But Till seemed to have been making lots of those lately. So he figured, Why not one more. From this, he realized something. From Ivan dying and this speech, he had made one of the scariest and most upsetting realizations of his life. And now he was gonna tell the world. He tried to hide his slowing tears as fast as possible.

“Ivan loved me, that's why he kissed me that day.” The crowd seemed to perk up at that, lots of whispers, and Till figured that he might as well make his worst mistake, ever. 

Ivan let go of the hug, him not even expecting this.

Till decided to just say it, get it over with and walk off the stage. “And I love him. Which is why I let him.” Till remembered that at the time, he had tried to push Ivan away, so he added. “Sorta.”

“That is my eulogy for Ivan. Round 7 in two months.” Till walked to backstage, and the crowd fucking erupted with cheers and claps and screams. 

Ivan held his hand the whole time.

also yes of course the title is a mitski reference what do you take me for? A good author?

[sams-art-domain]

Should I make a rp account thing for an OC? (Maybe multiple)

[sams-art-domain]

The Man

(The vid is just a black screen, the audio of the video is me reading the story(aka the way I want it to be read)

story trigger warnings: abuse, murder,

A man sat at the library tall, thin, and bearded. He was fairly content, simply a slight anxious because of work. The weather was fair, light rain but nothing intense. As he sat, a woman and a young man came up to him. 

“Hello sir! I'm glad to have told you that you are a good man.” the son looked up and told him. 

“Yes,” said the assumed mother of the boy, “You are a good man.”

The man listened, confused. A part of his chest tightened to hear the odd misplaced praise coming from these two. He did not like things he couldn't understand. His confusion quickly turns to frustration, and then anger. 

“Stop messing with me- you old hag! And you too bastard child.” he glowered at the pair. But they just smiled, their faces not wavering. 

“Why do you rage at words of kindness? Is it because you know they are lies?” The mother asked. Her smile finally fell once she finished speaking. 

The boy stepped closer to him. “You know they are lies.” 

The man felt something off. Something horribly wrong. 

“You know we lie.”

The man couldn’t speak. He wanted to beat the mother till the boy could feel it too. 

Why was he even mad? 

“We know that they lie.”

The man stood up and smacked the elder woman in the face. Out of rage.She fell to the ground. “You know nothing of me. Wench.” He stood tall, contrasting with the small boy. Still blank in expression despite the mother lying on the ground. 

“We know much of you.”

“You are horrible.”

The man punched the child as well. Sending him to the ground along with his mother. He stared at their bodies as they began to turn into fizz like a bath bomb when it gets wet. Red ran from the boys head soon after he hit the ground.

The mother perked up slightly after that. Too look him in the eye. 

“Monster.”

He kicked the mother in the nose while she looked up at him from the ground. Her head hit the linoleum floors with a thud, red ran from her head. Just like the boy. He heard crying in the distance. Like that of a young boy. Wailing. Screaming. Who was it? It sent off alarms in the man's head. Loud like sirens on a cop car. 

He couldn't move to see what was happening. He was stuck watching as the woman and her child fizzled into the ground. As the linoleum turned  into pitch black. As the screaming and wailing got even louder. Like the child was sitting directly next to his ears. 

His body trembled. Rage rage rage rage rage rage rage. He squeezed his eyes shut. Furious and disturbed. Like a bomb was set off in his soul. 

The world spun wildly. Nothing and everything happening at once. He saw people in the distance as the black went through a gradient to white. Two silhouettes. Of a woman and her child. He could then move. He ran towards the woman and child. Beginning to beat their silhouettes without direction or objective. Blood splattered around him. He couldn't calm the anger so he kept going until he was tired. All the while the wailing had gotten louder and louder and louder and louder, and with a hard final strike of the boy. Went dead. Silent. 

He heaved heavily. Shaking with adrenaline. Tired. 

The sirens went off again. Even though the screaming had stopped. 

The man blinked. Silently. 

The sight waiting for him when he opened them was like that of a nightmare. 

His wife laid there. Twitching. Coughing. Bleeding and bruised. Tears fell from her eyes as she stared at the boy. Who was

His son. His son. His son.  His son's skull was bashed in and he laid there still. Unbreathing and bleeding. 

The man stared and looked at them. His wife reached for his son and he stood tall as she was hardly alive. He looked at his hands, they were bruised and bloodied. And he knew, he knew the blood wasn't his. 

He sirens were louder, he realized 2 things

The sirens weren’t in his head.

And someone was screaming. loud.

It took another moment before he realized the one screaming was himself.

[sams-art-domain]

Dazai (again)

He stole liquor for him and Chuuya :3 (they are 16)

[sams-art-domain]

<3

little story to go with it :3

(Tw Child abuse, murder)

They told me to wait. Not like I had a choice. Bolted to a box and then waited. I could hear yelling. The kind woman who was going to buy me from my parents was screaming. My parents were silent as she screamed and I couldn’t cry and didn’t know what was happening outside.

eventually I stopped listening to the screaming and instead squeezed my eyes shut until I could the rumble of thunder coming from my head.

the screaming stopped, I could hear the heavy breathing of my mother. I heard my father open the box. “You won’t be being bought. She is dead.”

I looked past him with horror when I saw her. Her head crushed in and oozing dark red.

I screamed. Upon which my father slapped me in the face.

“Shut the fuck up.” He promptly slammed the box shut, and I listened as he re-fastened the 3 latches keeping me in here.

[sams-art-domain]

Hehe trauma for youuuu

[sams-art-domain]

A(This is about an OC)

okay waht if she attempts suicide and almost dies. She’s on her deathbed in the hospital. Days or maybe even hours away from death. The drugs and drowning should have killed her already. It didn’t. As she’s lying on her death bed, her soul manifests, and in the last 24 hours of her “life” she is a ghost. She watches as her best friend confesses her love for her. As her mom pleads and begs at her bedside apologizing for never being a good mother. As the boy who bullied her watches with horror in his eyes as he apologizes. As the kid in her school who she had only ever smiled at in passing visits her, teary eyed and silent. As word of her condition spread through her town more and more people visit her in her coma-like state. She watches realizing how much she was loved. How much her life was really valued. But she’s dying? Dead? It was hard to tell. She wonders and thinks. Why did she try to kill herself? To escape. To escape herself. She told herself it was others. But she was trying to escape herself. Her body was wrong and her brain was wrong. And no one ever believed her when cried out for a chance to escape, so she helped herself.

It would be called “Watching.” Maybe? Or “escaped” or something like that.

[sams-art-domain]

mmmart

this took me 3 1/2 hours of bird noises and over an hour of podcast.

[sams-art-domain]

uh

I wanna write a book titled “once I’m done”

and it’s about a gender-fluid, lesbian 15 year old(their struggle isn’t with queerness, they just are queer.) and their struggle is with depression, anxiety, and procrastination , they lay in bed, and they scroll, and it’s always “once I’m done checking my notifications” “once I’m done with this YouTube video I’ll get up” “once I’m done watching this episode”

They never do. Not until, mid story. Their mom gets sick, like, hospital sick. And they just, can’t lay down anymore, it’s not a matter of misery, it’s a matter of survival. If they don’t get up, they will die. Their mom, will die. They sit in the hospital, and manage to get a job(thank god) but, after nearly 2 weeks of 10 hour shifts for minimum, wage, they are burnt out and just can’t. Do it. They watch their mom lay in bed, lungs at risk of failing at any moment, and just cry. They cry and ball and they feel so helpless because they can’t do anything.

I don’t really have a resolution cooked up, originally I made it a romance but I really didn’t want it to be that “love Can fix you” because it can help, but it doesn’t fix it. So yeah.

[sams-art-domain]

(this is about my OC’s.. Sky and Aurora)

you hold me sweetly

what is the secret you are keeping?

far from my eyes

I cry for me

but never for you

why do you hide?

I would cry for you

but really

Only if you wanted me to. I wish I knew

That you were hurting

I couldn’t help

but at least I could care

[sams-art-domain]

finally safe

angst, fluff, hurt/comfort(?)

1030 words.

characters: Sky and Aurora (my Oc’s)

What a week. What a FUCKING. Week.  Everytime I think about it overwhelming pain and rage seem to take over my every being. “FUCK- That- fucking- stupid whore- I fucking hate it. Why can’t my dad just fucking love me? Why can’t I go to him when I’m sad and he hugs me and buys me ice cream and gives me the best advice he can? Why did I- what did I do to deserve such a shit dad? I should be able to ask for h- help-“ The pure regret and grief of what could have been burns my chest like a fucking forest fire and it hurts. Tears start to form but I try to punch them down. “I’m supposed to be having fun with Aurora.” I mumble to myself under my breath as I sit on the edge of her bed, then. I think about it again. They way he fucking spoke to me. Like I was still a damn 6 year old. “FUCK him.” I announce to the emptiness of Aurora’s room, “she’ll be upstairs any minute- get your shit together. Fuck-“ I ball my hands up and hit the palm of my hand to my forehead until I swear it’s gonna bruise. I wrap my arms around my myself and pinch. Trying to get my visceral rage to subside. 

I curl up in her bed and can feel my entire body tensing like I’m about to be hit. Over and over I feel helpless. Why am I helpless? Why am I useless?! I roll over onto my back and throw my pillow as hard as I can. It knocks over a glass of water on her desk- “FUCK!” I yell, scrambling to clean up the water. Tears overflow so quickly I almost don’t notice. I sit on my knees in front of the spilled water, so- so fucking angry?! I slam my fisted hand down on my knees. 

Aurora hurriedly opens the door after hearing a slam. “Sky- sky?! What’s wrong, are you okay?” Great. Aurora is gonna see me like this. Immediately, my expression goes blank as I try to turn it off off off-  tears run down my face, clearly not stopping anytime soon. She kneels down next to me as I look at her with my dead expression. 

She doesn’t pity me. She just grabs my hand and carefully helps me till I stand. She holds my hand and walks me to the bed. I'm so frustrated and upset I’m trembling. I feel a pit in my stomach growing, the tears not stopping anytime soon 

“Sit down. Honey, it’s okay.” She assures me sweetly. I can’t even talk because they put in my core is so angry and fucking mad- and so fucking done. I just look at her silently and then to the spilled water. “It’s just water, I’ll clean it up later.” She hugs me and I just fucking melt. I break completely. I sob violently so upset I feel like I’m gonna gag from how much force is exerted. I hiccup as I try to breathe in. Her hand rubs circles on my upper back as she softly guides me to laying down. I’m on my side and she’s still holding me. I wrap my arms around her and she whispers. “You can squeeze, you won’t hurt me sweetheart.” I wrap my legs around her and squeeze. Curling into her body. I yell, but it’s muffled because of how my head is turned down. She keeps rubbing my back and telling me I’ll be okay. I cry into her chest and I feel horrible and so gross and pathetic but so comforted. So safe.

Finally safe.

I squeeze a little less tight as pure and utter exhaustion takes over my entire body as I keep crying. I’m exhausted and warm and comfortable and I slowly but surely calm down. I’m still teary eyed when I let go, and she moves away slightly, and wipes my tears off my face. I’m scared about if my eyes are too puffy or red or if my nose is too runny but she doesn’t even pay attention to that. She leans in and kisses my forehead and I lean into the affection. 

“You’re okay Sky, I’ve got you.” She tells me lovingly as she goes back to holding me close. That causes me to break down even despite my fatigue. I hold onto her like she’s the last lifeboat while I’m drowning in an ocean. Like she’s my only blanket while I’m in a blizzard. Like she’s the only thing holding me up. And maybe she is. But that doesn’t matter right now. 

“I- I’m so fucking sorry-“ I almost seem to vomit the words as a wave of guilt rushes over me like cold water. “You shouldn’t h- have to waste your time-“ I almost choke on my words. I’m sitting here pathetically crying after knocking her water onto the floor when she was busy cleaning off the counter like her mom told her and I’m the sad one?

“No no no, none of that, you’re hurting, you can cry. You’re worth helping, Sky.” She assures me once more, “You’re not a burden to take care of, you're a privilege.” She looking at me with the kind of kindness and compassion any Angel would covet. I breathe in and when I exhale all that comes out is choked sob. She holds me once more. Humming my favorite song. That exhaustion comes over me again, more as a tsunami than a wave. My sobs slow in succession, and I calm down once more. Eventually, I can barely keep my eyes open. I let my eyes close. 

She moves, and I think she’s leaving me, I tighten my grip slightly. If she needs to leave, she could, but just enough to let her know I want her to stay. ”I’m just moving, not leaving.” I loosen my arms so she can move. She adjusts to where she’s hugging me now, “Goodnight Sky, sleep well my love.” And that’s the last thing I hear before a calm and deep sleep washes over my every being.

[sams-art-domain]

Nil :3

[sams-art-domain]

You're a great artist!

thank you :333 :3

[sams-art-domain]

what if i made a character and she is a christian, and every sunday she stands outside the church asking seemingly unbusy passerbys if they would want to join the church.

okay well, here me out,

WHAT IF on a sunday, a girl the same age as afformentioned character doesnt realize that she is standing outside a church, and also thinks that the prev girl is GORGOUES like, panicking noticuing jusdt how beautiful this girl is. and so, decides to go up and talk to the girl, curious to why she's just standing there calling passerbys over.

the interaction happens like this.

girl 2: hi! what are you standing here for?

girl 1: oh, im telling people about out church, service starts in 20 minutes!

girl 2 doesnt knowhow to react as she isnt religous and somewhat itimidated by religion. BUT she really doesnt want to stop talking to this gorgeous woman. so..

girl 2: oh, what religion is it?

girl 1: chritianity! are you interest in church?

girl 2(in head) say nononono

girl 2: i mean, never really thought about it i guess

girl 1: oh, well you should really go to this service, its our special newcomers event next week! (goes to hand paphlet)

girl 2 takes the pamphlet

girl 2: thanks, i might, but just to remind me, could i maybe have your number? (rizz 1000000)

girl 1 is clearly caught off gaurd, but is happy to anyway

ANYWAY IDK I WAS COOKING THIS UP LAST NIGHT SO YEAH

OKAY I AM GOING TO DRAW THEM TONIGHT OR SOON OR SOMETHING

[sams-art-domain]

Ignore the ugly in the corner 😍

[sams-art-domain]

frame for animatic, I’m excited and also scared to do the lip syncing but I’m gonna do…. :3

Ignore the lanky arm I didn’t realize it looked bad till after shading & adding effects and merging the layers.