#im actually so comically stressed
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damn . okay . i think i need to go on hiatus for a bit
#aristotle.txt#i will post and queue my fics as they are written but i genuinely think i need to dip from all social media until like . the end of october#NOT FOREVER. but two weeks of touching grass and then two weeks of being only vaugely online.#im actually so comically stressed#like jhsdfsfjk#so dw i will be postinng ffg those r done anyway#AND I MEAN LIKE REAL HIATUS FOR TWO WEEKS . no posting on sideblogs lol
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not my usual kind of comic but just... how I've been feeling recently
if you're feeling the same, maybe it will help to know you're not the only one
#overwhelmed#neurodivergent#actually autistic#sketch comic#vent comic#im fine im just so stressed you wouldn't even believe#i didn't feel like cleaning this up and making it nice since its just me venting lol#also im pretty anxious posting this so pls be nice thank u#thanks for listening
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My comic is so pretty...
The hiatus is letting me take a little extra time on these episodes, and I'm definitely putting it to good use!!!
#almost done with my 8th episode... which will give me. two weeks. of buffer...#id really like at LEAST a month... but to be more comfortable id like two#which means 2-6 more episodes before I come back!#I've got about 7 weeks so its possible. but i do still have to finish book 4#so much to do ..........#I decided for my next comic im doing 3 updates a month.#having 10 days instead of 7 to make an episode is such a huge huge huge difference...#difference in quality and in my health!#anyways the comic is really pretty im really happy with the work im doing rn#the environments especially. im getting to spend a nice amount of time on them and theyre turning out so nicely#its nice to be able to write with a lot of different environments and not have to redo panels when I get to them cause of time#cause every time theres a wild angle? you need a new background...#so sometimes. often actually. there just isnt the time to make the backgrounds for those and i have to make them more flat...#which is fine. it doesnt really affect anything narratively. but. idk. it's kinda sad right?#anyways yeah! 10 days will be much better.#36 episodes a year is about what ive been uploading with my hiatuses on the weekly schedule anyways!#so might as well cut out that super stressful middleman and just commit to that#52 a year is just such a huge difference and i have to accept its not possible to me#i will hurt myself trying to do that. and i want to make comics my whole life!#so i cant push myself that hard now and sacrifice my future. we're gonna go slower after this...#anyways yeah cant wait to come back but also time. if I could get an extra week like a secret one just for me#where theres no chores no nothin just me and my work#thatd be great! so go ahead and do what you gotta do to give me a little pocket dimension#me: ugh i want to return right now...#the more logical me: NO we need the time to finish everything!!!!!! NOT right now!!!!#time and time again#ttawebcomic#comic panels#hiatus stuff#adam and steve
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Okay challenge mode. You are a therapist and Eridan Ampora from Homestuck has just walked right out of his intro page into your office. How do you fix him?
put him and karkat in a room with a pile of stuff and tell them they can't leave until they've jumped into it and talked about their feelings
#realtalk therapy doesnt work unless the person getting the therapy puts in the effort to make it work#eridan starts the comic in complete and utter denial that he's in need of help#so there's really nothing i nor any stranger could do about that#HOWEVER he does talk to karkat often about his feelings (and vice versa) and#the reason they didnt hang out during the game seems to be#1) they were on separate teams and didnt realize the teams were the same team until later on#2) by then it was too late and eridan had aggro'd all his angels#3) gamzee was deliberately keeping eridan away from karkat and vice versa (likely bc gamzee had a palecrush on kk)#4) karkat was too busy falling victim to his own insecurities abt being a leader to pay attention to his actual friendships#4a) eg. it shouldve been the time player doing the frog hunt with kanaya & not the blood player#like im not saying moirallegiance with karkat would have fixed all of eridans problems but i am saying#what eridan really needed was a friend who took his problems seriously and could see past his bullshitting#and karkat already WAS that friend - they just never hung out#so by the time the meteor rolls around eridan has spent WEEKS feeling abandoned anxious and alone on his death planet#and karkat has gotten used to not thinking about eridan too much#so karkat - who is basically eridans only actual friend at that point - isnt able to get through to him & eridan snaps#like the thing about sburb/homestuck is that it really stresses the importance of friendship and working together#letting each other help with each others' problems#thats why the smallest viable game is still two people by necessity#so when we see things like gamzee snapping or eridan snapping or vriska snapping#as much as these are the 'fault' of the person snapping they also need to be viewed as comprehensive team failures#the people who should have spent the game together didnt and the people who shouldnt have spent the game together did#vriska was allowed to bully tf outta tavros and nobody intervened#eridan was left all alone and nobody tried to help him#and everybody was mean to gamzee and nobody tried to connect with him#and you know whose job it is to make sure the right people are hanging out together? the blood player#and unfortunately our blood player was so insecure that he was doing jobs that werent his to do#im not saying pale erikar would fix homestuck but i am saying pale erikar is a symptom of things being fixed in homestuck
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[<==PREV PAGES] [NEXT PAGE==>(not out yet.wait a year.or maybe more.imagine.]
saw alot of comments on prev pages; saying 'i HATE that mean teacher! im gonna FIGHT HIM!!' & i LOVE the energy!! it WOULD be nice. to have that catharsis. but the story of young tidestrider is Not one of catharsis. it is a story of being so small and so special and sucking so bad.
#jrwi fanart#jrwi show#jrwi riptide#gillion tidestrider#GONNA START FORMATTING MY COMICS BETTER. W THE PROPER 'PREV' 'NEXT' LINKS#REALLY DIDNT EXPECT TO CONTINUE THIS SERIES BUT AAAUUUHH MY BRRAAAIN MY BRAIN IS SO IDEASSS. I HAVE 3 OTHER PAGES SKETCHED OUT#NO PROMISES ILL FINISH EM ANY TIME SOON OR EVER. MY WHIMS ARE THEIR OWN BEAST AND I ONLY DRAW ON MY WHIMS#THAT BEING SAID IF U COMMISSIONED ME ILL GEEETT TO YOUUU IM SORRYYYY. ART IS AN EMOTIONAL RELEASE FOR ME N BABY I HAVE EMOTIONS.#ESPECIALLY ABOUT GILLION TIDESTRIDER CHAMPION OF THE UNDERSEA HERO OF THE DEEP.for the desc here i put smth that i typed up in the tags of#another thing i made. i gotta make a proper Baby Gillion tag or smth. eventually.. eventually...I LOVE DRAWIN THIS LIL BABY GUY..#i also LOVE depicting the teachers as just being so fuckin mean. ofc theres variation in that. just like in all things.like the teacher her#idk if itll be mentioned but the octo lady is named Ms Octburn.an octopus pun based off the name of an actual councilor i had#when i was in elementary school i got bullied alot but teachers never did anything. i hated adults and didnt trust them.#but this councilor o mine was so genuinely sweet. i remember spending alot of time w her. she doesnt work there anymore.#but that one school adult that actually earns ur trust and is there for you when they can be.its SO important for a child i think#i hope she knows how much she helped me.youll see in the next page that ms octburn isnt perfect either.but she tries. they all try.somehow.#ALL these comics are gonna be inspired by somesorta experience o mine in the school system. school is so fucked up u ever thing abt that#AND GILLIOOOOONNN IN THE MOST FUCKED UP LITTLE SCHOOL OF ALL. MAINTAINED BY A CULT. CENTERED AROUND HIM. OUR CHOSEN ONE#I IMAGINE ALOT BANKS ON HIS SUCCESS. THIS IS THE WORLD. THE WHOLE WORLD. THE PROPHECY IS GOING TO COME TRUE N UR TELLIN ME#THAT ITS THIS LITTLE IDIOT THATS GONNA BE SAVING US? WHAT IF HE FAILS. IF HE CANT GET THIS RIGHT THEN HE WILL FAIL AND WE WILL DIE#WE NEED TO TRAIN HIM. WE NEED HIM TO LEARN. AND TO SUCCEED. OR ELSE WE'RE DEAD. WE'RE ALL FUCKING DEAD. I IMAGINE THAT MUST BE STRESSFUL#in other news i hope ppl actually giggle when they read these. they ARE intended to be comical. dark humor or whatever. like its also sad#this is intended to be a sad comic series. but a funny one too. does that make sense? god i hope so.saw some1 say they had flashbacks-#-reading this. like YES!! THE INTENDED EFFECT!! YOU GET ME!! i love seeing ppl get upset on this lil baby boys behalf. i LOVE seeing ppl-#-wail n weep n cry in the comments. i LOOOVE seeing ppl RELATE to baby gillion. and i love letting u all know that this wont be a happycomi#gillion gets his happiness arc in the actual show. this series is one of unfortunate events. teehehehe. do u guys remember that show#i keep listening to the lil songs from A Series of Unfortunate Events for inspiration. GOOD STUFF!!#anyway uuhh uhh thats all i got in my brain. for now. feed me ur comments give me ur input i NNEEEEEDD THHEEEMMMM
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There are only so many fanfics that use the entirety of DC as cardboard cutouts to prop up bat family characters that I can read before I go berserk.
I swear to god. Every character that has ever been shipped with a bat or coexists on the same team as a bat is owed an apology.
How many Young Justice fanfics that solely revolve around Tim must exist? How many Titans fanfics centered only on Dick? Why is it a herculean task to find a Justice League fanfic without Bruce as the main character?
And then even when you do find a fic that seems like it's balanced, everything still revolves around the bat. Like Kon, Cassie and Bart have nothing else going on in their lives except Tim and Tim's issues or thinking about Tim. Like Donna and Wally and Roy just cannot function if they aren't spending every waking moment thinking about Dick.
I'm... Guys. I'm at my limit. I swear to god. We need to make a Batman tag and surgically remove all these fics and quarantine them there. We'll keep the actual DC fics and they can do whatever the fuck they want in their own tag. It's getting ridiculous how hard it is to find fanfic that's actually DC related and isn't just 'The BatFam Show'.
#im going INSANE#i literally just have to filter out the batfam characters at this point#and even that doesn't help sometimes#holy shit guys what is GOING ON#seriously if i see one more fic thats all 'haha the justice league meets the batfam and they're so shocked! 😯 because they're crazy 🤣'#i don't know how to explain to you people that THEY HAVE SEEN WEIRDER#a bunch of ninja kids aren't even making the top ten weirdest moments my dude. like. at all.#not even remotely#i can't stress ENOUGH how normal that would be to them#anyway im going fucking bonkers over here#dc#dc comics#or god fucking damnit the YJ fics that literally just have Kon's life revolving around Tim#and Cassie and Bart are just background scenary. and only exist to push Kon and Tim together. I'm going to go fucking nuts#ship whoever you want but at least have the character have an actual character beyond 'love interest'#also jfc. every. single. birdflash fic. that has Wally just be a love interest with literally nothing fucking else going on#except his relationship with Dick. work? family? life? villains?? nope! no he's just madly in love with Dick and cute and thats it!#im GOING INSANE
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hi. here's a little over 5k words for the modern human au! entirely unedited, as usual! you'd think this is a full oneshot... ha... no... i actually have some warnings for this one - hospitals, panic attacks, major character injury / discussion of death / clinical description of injury.
in short, my writing comfort zone <3
~
The dial tone plays, and Barnaby looks down at his phone. Call ended stares back at him under Wally’s cheerful profile picture.
“He hung up on me,” Barnaby states. His lips twist and he tosses the phone onto the couch with a snarl of, “That little bastard.”
“Hey now,” Howdy says sharply, frowning at him. “That’s our friend you’re talking about.”
“Like he doesn’t deserve it! All I do is be supportive, understanding, and worry about his damn well being. And then he goes and acts like my very much well-founded concern is an attack!”
Howdy’s frown softens as he watches Barnaby pace, gesturing wildly.
“I love that RV. Maybe not as much as Wally, obviously, but it pains me that it needs to go. And it does need to go! Thing’s becoming a damn deathtrap.” Barnaby pushes his hair back and huffs. He glances at Howdy. “Right? I’m making the right call, here?”
“Of course you are,” Howdy says. “But-”
Barnaby cuts him off. “I tried to be nice about it. I tried to warm him up to the idea of retiring Home, yaknow? And what does he do instead of handling it - he revs up the tin can and runs. Home shouldn’t be started, let alone driven. It’s dangerous.”
It’s extremely dangerous. Wally is skilled at driving it, but no amount of skill will save him if it breaks in the middle of the freeway. What if the engine catches fire? What if a tire pops, or comes loose? Home is old, and wasn’t made to crumple in a crash. Barnaby doesn’t even know if the airbag still works. It’s not safe.
The thought of Wally bringing Home hurtling down the freeway at ten at night in a - quite honestly - not great mental state turns Barnaby’s stomach.
“I just wanted him to come back so we could talk about it,” Barnaby says. “I let him keep worming his way out of a serious conversation and now - now he’s -”
“Running away,” Howdy finishes. The point of his pen taps a rhythm against his notepad.
Barnaby jabs a finger at him. “Exactly. One tough, necessary decision and he turns tail. This isn’t gonna go away if he skips town! Not to mention how he isn’t giving a thought to how this might affect the rest of us.”
“Especially you.”
Barnaby throws his hands up with an indignant look. “Now not only do I have to hunt him down-”
“That would be a we scenario, Barn.”
“But we,” Barnaby concedes, “gotta try to knock some sense into that thick skull ‘a his, and drag him back home - kicking and screaming if we hafta.”
Howdy’s pen taps faster. “What if he doesn’t want to come back?”
“What if he-” Barnaby stops short and stares at him, wide eyed.
That’s not.
That wouldn’t happen, right? Wally would come back in the end. He wouldn’t decide to up and leave entirely, would he? He is in Home… all the essentials he needs are in that RV. Barnaby sits down heavily on Howdy’s threadbare couch. “What if he doesn’t want to come back.”
Wally would have to come back to clear out his studio - he’d never abandon his art. Then they’d have to go through everything inside the house and see what he wants to take, since not all of it is Barnaby’s. A lot of it is shared, so they might have to bargain on who gets what.
Then they’d all have to watch Wally get into his motorhome and drive away. Possibly for good.
Barnaby would be alone in that big house with Welcome, knowing that his closest companion is out of his life. Living somewhere else. It's sickening.
“I’m sure it won’t come to that, Barn,” Howdy says, watching him with furrowed brows and a deep frown - if Barnaby were feeling like himself, he’d crack a joke about him emulating Frank. “I can confidently say that Wally loves you more than that old RV.”
Barnaby snorts. “You sure about that?”
“Unflinchingly. Believe you me, he’s going to wallow for a day or so, and then Home will come rumbling back down your driveway like it never left.”
“I wish I could have your faith,” Barnaby mumbles. He exhales and picks up his phone. No missed calls, no messages. “Maybe if I call him and ask him to just come back, no strings attached, he will.”
“That’s the spirit! Save the talk for another day - tell you what, I’ll help you corrall him so he can’t escape the conversation. I’ll tie him to a chair and bar the door if needed!”
“Good luck with that. Kid’s slippery.” Still, Barnaby hits call again. It rings only a couple of times before a robotic automated message states the caller as unavailable. Barnaby doesn’t enjoy being upset with Wally. However, it feels like his blood is simmering, and the wall is starting to look like great target practice for his phone. He grits his teeth. “He turned off his phone.”
From the corner of his eye he sees Howdy’s eyebrows shoot up as the man turns back to his paperwork. He exhales a controlled breath and writes something down. “I have to say, I’ve never known him to be such a-”
“Pain in the neck?” Barnaby offers.
Howdy clicks his tongue. “You said it, not me.”
“Yeah, well, he’s full of surprises.” Barnaby lets out a frustrated huff. He’s half tempted to run Wally down right now, but he wouldn’t even know where to start. There’s only one freeway out of town, but it goes both ways, and it branches. Wally would have hit one of those branches by now, and who knows which he took. North, south, east, west. Deeper into the woods, or towards the city? To the coast? Somewhere else entirely?
He has to face the facts - there’s nothing to do. He just has to wait until Wally pulls his head out of his ass and realizes how stupid and insensitive he’s being. Those are two words Barnaby would never normally use to describe Wally, but after tonight? They seem fitting.
Barnaby can’t even muster up guilt for thinking such harsh things. He tried to be nice. He was patient. He’s always kept a lid on it whenever Wally frustrated him, which doesn’t happen often, but it does happen. And what does he get for caring? For being tactful and careful about a shitty situation?
Avoidance, a shove, and a cut call. Wally left Barnaby’s been left to stew in his own anger and worry. Right now, he’s inclined to lock up that worry in a tiny box in the back of his mind.
Barnaby pushes himself up with a grumbled, “I’m makin’ some coffee, want some?”
“If you’re offering then I will not decline.”
Barnaby pretends not to feel Howdy’s eyes following him to the apartment’s tiny kitchen. It’s hell to maneuver around in, and the frustration of bumping into something every five seconds only makes Barnaby’s mood worse. By the time the coffee is brewing, he’s ready to punch the cabinets. He won’t, but he wants to. He’d regret it immediately, but he stares at the chipped paint and fantasizes.
The coffee machine breaks after brewing a whopping single mug. Barnaby stares at it for a long moment, and tallies up the consequences of taking a hammer to it. In the end, he just clenches his fists for a long moment and counts to ten. He takes the mug and sets it in front of Howdy, then goes to the window to brood. Thankfully Howdy is too reabsorbed in his work to notice beyond a mumbled thanks.
For the next hour, Barnaby’s thoughts are entirely composed of Wally. Different scenarios of what might happen next, how Barnaby might handle those situations without shaking Wally for doing something so needlessly reckless, and cruel daydreams of setting Home on fire. Barnaby wants to feel bad about that. He doesn’t. That damn RV has caused two different rifts between Barnaby and Wally - and Barnaby was the one to fix both of them, because both times Wally just left.
He gets it. He really does - for a time Home was all that Wally had. It’s been with him since Wally was thirteen, and if the thought of retiring it to a dump makes Barnaby sad, he can only imagine how much it distresses Wally. Well, he can do more than make an educated guess. Wally practically told him tonight, if not with words than with actions.
Still. They’re adults - Wally is older than him, if only by a handful of months. When does Barnaby ever ask something of him? When does Barnaby ever push? Why can’t Wally see that Home is becoming a liability, and why won’t he listen? Barnaby can’t make it make sense.
Wally has always been more inclined to avoid conflict, but this is too far. Barnaby swears, when he tracks Wally down he’s going wring that scrawny little-
His phone is ringing.
Barnaby lunges for it, relief dousing his anger. He picks it up, ready to give Wally a piece of his mind and then beg him to come back-
“It’s an unknown number,” he says, shoulders slumping. Of course it’s an unknown number. Wally wouldn’t change on a dime and decide to be considerate for once. He exchanges an exasperated look with Howdy and declines. He goes to set the phone down - the number calls back.
“That’s one determined scammer,” Howdy says. He leans back in his chair and holds out a hand. “I’ll deal with ‘em.”
Barnaby is all too happy to hand it over. Let the poor sap on the other end of the line deal with a master swindler.
“Howdy-hi, how can I help?” Howdy starts with a mischievous grin thrown Barnaby’s way? He leans back in the chair and hums. “Who, may I query, is asking?”
All at once, the ease drains out of Howdy and he stops fidgeting. He sits up, already looking at Barnaby with a paled expression that has something cold slithering down Barnaby’s spine. Something is wrong.
“He’s right here.” Howdy holds out the phone. His throat works uselessly for a moment before he plainly states the obvious, “It’s for you.”
Barnaby takes it, his mouth abruptly dry. Howdy is already up and moving - grabbing his coat, his keys. “Hello?”
“Is this Barnaby Beagle?” a professional feminine voice asks, tinny through the phone.
“B. Beagle, yeah.”
The woman introduces herself as the nearest city’s hospital, and Barnaby’s heart drops through the floor. She asks him to confirm that he’s Wally Darling’s emergency contact. He confirms, his voice sounding distant to his own ears. Howdy takes his arm and gestures to his shoes by the door, spurring Barnaby into motion.
“Is he okay?” Barnaby manages to say. He puts the wrong shoe on the wrong foot and almost curses aloud as he switches it.
“Mr. Darling was involved in an automobile accident,” is all the hospital employee says. “He was brought in a few minutes ago.”
Barnaby steadies himself against the doorjamb, choking on a whispered, “Oh, god.”
Keys jingle as Howdy opens the door and pulls Barnaby through, then locks the door behind them.
“But is he okay?” Barnaby asks again as they hurry down the short hallway to the stairs.
“I’m not at liberty to disclose that information at present.”
It’s bad. It has to be bad if they won’t say anything over the phone. He must be silent for too long, because Howdy takes the phone, tells her they’ll be there soon, and hangs up. He tucks the phone into Barnaby’s pocket before opening the door to the store’s back lot.
The frigid air slaps the shock out of Barnaby, and sensation comes flooding back in. He grabs the keys out of Howdy’s hand and strides to the car with long, powerful strides that would leave anyone shorter than Howdy in the dust.
“Are you sure-”
“I’m driving,” Barnaby growls, cutting Howdy off.
Howdy makes a disapproving noise, but relents. They get in and Barnaby adjusts his seat with harsh movements, jabs the key into the ignition because Howdy’s car is a dated hunk of junk, and peels out of the parking space before Howdy even has his seatbelt all the way on.
Howdy clings to the ceiling handle as the car tears down the mostly empty street, going at least ten miles over the speed limit. Barnaby doesn’t know exactly where the hospital is, but he knows how to get to the city. They can figure it out from there. Several people honk as Barnaby brings them flying onto the freeway.
“Holy Marilyn marmalade!” Howdy screeches as they narrowly avoid side-swiping a minivan.
Barnaby ignores him and cuts off a pickup to get into the right lane for the interchange. Howdy whispers a string of something high pitched and strained and clings to the handle with both hands.
It takes him a moment to parse out the constant ramble as, “-pull over pull over pull over pull over-” Two honks and a squeal of tires as Barnaby almost causes an accident, and Howdy yells in a louder and deeper tone than Barnaby has ever heard from him, “PULL OVER!”
Barnaby clenches his jaw and cuts across the carpool lane’s double whites. It only takes a moment to reach the shoulder. Howdy leaps out of the passenger seat as soon as the car stops, marches to Barnaby’s side, and wrenches the door open.
“Out,” he snaps, breathing hard. “Barnaby, I swear to all things priceless, get out. “
Barnaby meets his steely gaze for all of a second before unbuckling and getting out. Cars whip by. Howdy huffs at him and slips into the driver’s seat, muttering about recklessness and disasters and if you would wait to try and kill us until we’re right outside the hospital, if only to save us the ambulance fee-
When Barnaby gets into the passenger seat, Howdy waits for him to buckle in with fingertips drumming on the steering wheel. He merges onto the freeway smoothly and carefully. They go slower than the speed Barnaby had them flying down the asphalt at, and it makes something deeply impatient itch in him, but it’s safer.
“I know you’re upset,” Howdy says, eyes still fixed on the road, “and I know that you’re scared. But what in hell’s bells was that, Barn?”
Barnaby side eyes him and grimaces, folding his arms. “I don’t know. I’m sorry - I shouldn’t have put you in danger like that.”
“You put yourself in danger too, you know.” Howdy sighs and relaxes his grip on the steering wheel. “We’re of no use to Wally if we get ourselves in a crash. What would he say?”
“Whatever he’d say would be hypocritical,” Barnaby says before he can think better of it.
Howdy glances sharply at him. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“He..” Barnaby’s voice fails on him, and he swallows hard. “He was in an accident.”
Howdy is silent for a full few seconds before he exhales a thin, pained sound. “Oh, Walls…”
He must not know what else to say, which is good and well, because Barnaby doesn’t either. A long few minutes pass of silence. Headlights of passing cars on the other side of the freeway flash over them before plunging back into darkness. The dials on the dash glow. The check engine light is on. They’ll need to get gas in order to make it home.
“I’m sure it’s not as bad as you’re thinking,” Howdy says. He’s tapping the steering wheel again. “It’s likely just a few scrapes and bruises, at worst a broken bone. Nothing Wally can’t handle, and certainly nothing to be concerned over.”
Barnaby can’t bring himself to agree. Maybe… maybe if Wally was driving slowly… but that wouldn’t matter if someone crashed into him with enough force. Home is a large, sturdy vehicle, but it isn’t invulnerable. Wally certainly isn’t.
Without the distraction of driving, all Barnaby can think about is the what ifs. Yeah, what if he’s only a little bit hurt, but what if it’s worse? All of the worst images Barnaby can think of roll through his mind like a messed up movie reel.
Wally dead on the scene, caught in a hunk of twisted metal.
Wally, choking on his own blood in an ambulance, dying en route to the hospital.
Wally flatlining on a metal table.
Wally’s small body covered with a sheet-
“Almost there,” Howdy says, slowing at a stoplight. It bathes them both in red. Barnaby didn’t notice when they got off the freeway.
Barnaby squeezes his eyes shut and presses his forehead to the cold window. After a moment, a slender hand rests on his thigh and squeezes. It’s such a small, stupid thing, but Barnaby breathes a little easier.
Despite the drive down the freeway feeling like it took hours, the drive through city streets to the hospital passes in a blink. Before Barnaby knows it the car is spiraling up to an upper floor of the parking garage. The floor is mostly empty - Howdy pulls into a spot right by glass double doors.
Barnaby gets out a split seconds before Howdy, staring at the pristine white walls just inside the doors. In a moment he’ll find out if it’s not that bad, or if he’s about to have the worst night of his life. He’s been to a hospital twice. The last time was for Howdy, but he went with the knowledge that it was only a precaution. The other time was for Mama’s health scare.
That had been terrifying. The waiting, the wondering, the too-bright hallways and the staff’s rigid smiles. It ended well, but it had still been horrible, and hospitals took center stage in some of his recurring nightmares. Barnaby never wanted to see another loved one in a hospital bed again.
Looks like he doesn’t have a choice.
Howdy comes around from the driver’s side and lays a hand on Barnaby’s shoulder. “If you need a moment to-”
“Nah,” Barnaby says, his voice rough. He nods and adjusts his sleeves. “Better rip the bandaid off.”
They go into the sterile maze. The bright overhead lights dazzle Barnaby’s eyes after being in the dim parking garage, and he grimaces at the strong odor of antiseptic and floor polish. Howdy makes a beeline for the nearest receptionist and talks to her in rushed, low tones.
Barnaby shuffles after him, rubbing his shaking hands together and eyeing every person in scrubs that walks past. Something beeps somewhere. He thinks he hears someone crying. This is a place without color, art, or happiness.
“This way,” Howdy says, walking past him and tilting his head at the elevator. Barnaby follows, feeling like a lost puppy dropped at the side of the road.
A nurse gets into the elevator with them and politely smiles before staring at the floor counter and pretending they don’t exist. It’s fine with Barnaby. If he has to make small talk right now, he might actually snap. The man’s pink scrubs are almost an eyesore in the harsh lighting.
The elevator dings, and they all get out on the same floor. Howdy reads door plaques and wall signs like a hawk, his head turning on a swivel as he reads everything at lightning speed. Barnaby nearly has to jog to keep up with his hurried pace.
Howdy changes direction without warning and heads straight for a door at the end of a short offshoot hallway. Barnaby reads the sign next to the door.
[can’t remember if it’s icu or the other thing, research later]
It’s bad.
The waiting room is small - longer than it is wide, and there’s a woman sleeping in a chair in the corner. It looks nicer than the emergency room, or where Barnaby waited to see his mama. The benches have colorful cushions, and the walls are a pastel green instead of white. There’s an abstract geometric painting on the wall next to the woman.
Barnaby slowly takes a seat on stiff cushions, watching Howdy talk to the receptionist from afar. He nods and pats the counter before joining Barnaby. He sits close enough that their legs press together.
“Someone will get us up to speed as soon as there’s news,” Howdy says. “I tried to pry some more out of him, but he wouldn’t give up another word.”
Barnaby nods, staring down at his hands. His nail polish is already chipping, despite Julie painting them only last weekend. Barnaby picks at the bright red on his pinkie until Howdy pulls his hand away and enfolds it in both of his own.
When Howdy takes a deep breath, Barnaby finds himself mimicking him. Their gazes meet - Howdy’s is unflinching, and steady. He smiles and runs his thumb over Barnaby’s knuckles, soothing the nervous trembling, and Barnaby is struck by how darn grateful he is to have Howdy with him.
If he had to do all of this alone… Barnaby doesn’t think he could. Either he’d have gotten himself into a crash to join Wally, or he would still be sitting in his car, staring at the hospital doors. He doesn’t have the courage. But Howdy does, and Barnaby loves him for it.
For once, Howdy lets the time pass in silence, though after a long stretch of indeterminable time he gets up to pace. The bench cushions are high quality, but they start to feel uncomfortable. Barnaby doesn’t dare go for a walk. At least they’re not the usual waiting room chairs - he’d rather stand than try to fit into those plastic, narrow things.
At some point the woman in the corner wakes up. She startles seeing two strangers in the room with her, but quickly ignores them. Barely a few minutes pass before she leaves, mumbling something about coffee. She doesn’t come back. Barnaby spends a while wondering why - did she go home, or wait somewhere else, or did she receive news in the halls?
Howdy sits down again and starts typing furiously on his phone. When Barnaby gives him a curious nudge, he quietly explains that he’s texting the group chat. Barnaby feels a twinge of guilt at that. He completely forgot to let everyone know that there’s a… situation. Who knows if any of them will see it until morning.
Message sent, Howdy gets up to pace some more. His rhythmic gait gives Barnaby something to focus on, seeing as the clock on the wall is silent, and the receptionist seems to be sleeping. Barnaby could probably pass time on his own phone, but every second spent distracted is a second he might miss someone coming to tell them…
What? Tell them what, exactly? That Wally is okay? That he can receive visitors?
That he didn’t make it?
The door opens, startling Barnaby to his feet. Howdy scurries over from the far side of the room and rests a steadying hand on Barnaby’s lower back. A woman clad in blue scrubs enters, reading something on a clipboard. There are shadows under her eyes, and she looks beyond exhausted. Barnaby can sympathize.
“Mr. Beagle?” the doctor asks, looking between them. When Barnaby nods, she smiles thinly, gaze flicking briefly to Howdy. “Hi. I’m Dr. Allen. Before I disclose any sensitive information, I’d like to confirm what your relation to the patient is.”
The question gives Barnaby pause. He’s always had a difficult time putting his and Wally’s relationship into simple terms, because it’s anything but. Wally is his best friend, his dearest companion, the man he lives with and can’t imagine being without.
“He’s my partner,” Barnaby settles on, because it’s a good umbrella term. Partner can mean a lot of things, and people don’t usually pry for specifics. “We’re as good as family.”
Dr. Allen writes something down on her clipboard. “No worries, I’m not going to kick you out if you’re not - you’re his emergency contact for a reason, after all. It’s just basic information that I’d like to have on hand.”
“Course - so how is he?” Barnaby cuts straight to the chase. He’s not in the mood for niceties.
“Well, Mr. Darling is certainly giving us a run for our money,” Allen sighs. “He’s not out of the woods yet, but I believe he’s gotten through the worst of it.”
“He’ll make it?”
Allen offers another tight lipped smile. “We’re doing our best.”
Barnaby has seen enough hospital dramas to know that we’re doing our best means no promises, prepare for the worst. Howdy must feel the tension gripping him like a vice, because his hand slips from Barnaby’s back to his hand.
“What are his injuries, if I may?” Howdy asks.
“I’m not sure-”
“Please. We’d rather know than wonder.”
Allen looks between them and sighs again. She flips a page on her clipboard. “Unfortunately, there was a bit of time between the crash and when emergency services were called. Between blood loss and the near-freezing temperatures, Mr. Darling developed mild hypothermia.”
Wally was dying, cold and alone in the wreckage of his home for who knows how long before anyone came to help. Barnaby sways in place, and Howdy helps him sit down on a bench instead of the floor. Allen looks apprehensive.
“Keep going,” Barnaby rasps. He needs to know.
Allen doesn’t look happy about it, but she continues. “Mr. Darling also suffered several low-grade lacerations from shrapnel, some fractured ribs, a compound fracture in his left tibia, and currently unidentified damage to his right hand and lower arm.”
Barnaby swallows a mournful sound. That’s fine, it’s fine. Broken bones heal - Wally will be painting again in no time.
“He also developed an intracranial hematoma. It’s been treated, but we won’t know the extent of the damage until Mr. Darling wakes up.”
“What is that?” Howdy asks before Barnaby can figure out how to speak again. “Intracranial hematoma - tell me if I’m wrong, but that sounds like a head injury.”
“It is - in layman’s terms, it’s a brain bleed. Head trauma can cause bleeding inside the skull, which puts pressure on the brain. We caught it as quickly as feasibly possible, which should raise his chance of a full recovery.” Allen flips the clipped page back into place. “There may still be lesser complications and injuries we haven’t been able to diagnose or address yet. I’ll be forward with you - this is one of the worst crash cases I’ve seen in some time. Mr. Darling was lucky to be found alive.”
Allen goes on to offer platitudes that Wally is a fighter, and easily answers the flood of questions Howdy has about the mentioned injuries. It all sounds distant. Underwater. The room is too small and the air is stale - are the vents working? Is there a window they can open?
In a blink - and yet the conversation lasts ages - Allen promises to come back with more information as soon as she has it. She smiles one last time and leaves.
“Barn?” Howdy sounds muffled. “Barn, are you alright?”
What kind of question is that? Of course Barnaby isn’t alright - his best friend is dying, likely on this very floor. There’s a chance he’s already dead. Barnaby might have already lost him, he just doesn’t know it yet.
Mr. Darling was lucky to be found alive.
One of the worst crash cases I’ve seen in some time.
Mild hypothermia - brain bleed - lacerations - fractures.
Lesser complications and injuries we haven’t been able to diagnose or address yet.
We’re doing our best.
“He hung up on me, the little bastard-”
Barnaby is up and out the door before he registers moving. He staggers down the hallways in a blur, everything swirling together into a mess of sight and sound as his lungs struggle to get a full breath. He bypasses the elevator and takes the stairs down to the level they parked on.
The cold air does nothing to help him breathe. Barnaby chokes on it as he leans against the rough wall grasping at his chest. Howdy is there immediately - he must have been on Barnaby’s heels the whole time.
“Talk to me, Barn,” Howdy pleads, a hand on the back of his neck and the other over the one Barnaby has on his chest. “What is it - you’re not having a heart attack, are you? Tell me you aren’t, I can’t handle that right now.”
Barnaby doesn’t know. Maybe? He feels like he is. He can’t breathe. He tries to say so, but the ragged gasps his breathing has devolved into doesn’t allow it. Howdy must know something he doesn’t, because he doesn’t run to get a doctor.
“How can I help?” he asks instead.
“Don’t - don’t - know,” Barnaby wheezes.
“Okay, alright, don’t worry, Barn, I’m here, I’m not going anywhere. Let’s try, ah - what were the steps? I didn’t exactly write them down, though in hindsight I should’ve - that’s not the point! It was… what a time to take after Eddie’s memory-”
It shouldn’t be helping, but Howdy’s constant stream of words grabs Barnaby’s attention. He manages to inhale nearly a full breath before it stutters back out and he’s struggling again.
“Breathing!” Howdy says. “Yes, that was it - Barnaby, I need you to focus on me. Copy my breathing.”
He sucks in a slow, dramatic breath through his nose and exhales just as slowly through his mouth. Barnaby catches on and tries to mimic him, but-
“Can’t, I ca-an’t,” Barnaby says. His chest hurts.
Howdy presses their foreheads together. “Yes, you can. Come now, Barn, in… out. Simplest thing in the world.”
It doesn’t feel simple, but Barnaby tries. It feels like forever before he manages a full inhale. He butchers the exhale, but Howdy praises the minor win before launching right back into measured breathing.
Barnaby finally manages a slow inhale and exhale, and suddenly it feels like the pressure filling his chest has vanished. He slumps against the wall, worn out. He puts his hand over Howdy’s mouth in the middle of another dramatic demonstration.
“You’re alright now?” Howdy says, peeling his hand off. Barnaby nods, and Howdy leans next to him with a whoosh. “Thank the stock market - I was starting to get light headed.”
It takes another few minutes for them to catch their breath. Barnaby straightens enough to rest his head on Howdy’s shoulder, breathing in his cheap cologne and homemade laundry detergent. Howdy cups the back of his neck and massages the tense muscle there.
“This will all turn out okay,” Howdy promises. “Wally is stubborn - I think we both know that well enough. By this time tomorrow we’ll be moving forward.”
Barnaby wants to be that optimistic, but this is real life. For all they know, moving forward means making funeral arrangements. His breathing stutters and he forces it to even out before he can start hyperventilating again.
A car pulls into a parking space with a gravelly sound. Barnaby pays it no mind until Howdy makes a surprised noise - Barnaby looks up, and his stomach churns.
Frank, Eddie, and Julie are all getting out of Frank’s car. They’re all in various states of dishevelment. Frank’s hair is a mess, and he has what looks like Eddie’s company jacket thrown on over his pajamas. Eddie is in little more than a shirt that says male? lol, more like mail! and boxers - he’s even wearing slippers instead of shoes, and his hair flops over his forehead in soft tufts. Julie’s hair is still in curlers, and though she’s wearing shoes, she’s in a too-long shirt over sweats that don’t belong to her. They’re paint-stained.
They rush across the parking lot, all worried faces and tired eyes. They’re already asking what happened, is Wally okay, Sally is getting Poppy, they should be here soon, has there been any news-
Barnaby lunges at the nearest trash can and vomits.
#IM SORRY FOR ANY HOSPITAL/PROCEDURAL INACCURACIES IM NOT TRYING TO BE ACCURATE AT THE MOMENT#except for the injuries. those are realistic and i did my due diligence. read a lot of first hand accounts! medical pages!#ohhhh this was so cozy to write#i mean. not as familiar as actual on-screen injuries but yk#its been too fluffy in here.#this is a mild example of my usual tastes and habits when it comes to fic & fiction#WHUMP CENTRAL BABEYYYYYY#i like it messy and painful!!! Lets Fuckin Go!!!!#this is a prime example of me not being able to shut the fuck up when writing#my scenes & convos just go on and on and on and on....#but yes! enjoy! the Crash arc is very thoroughly planned out in my head and lately its one of my favorite things to imagine before bed <3#bedtime stories can be fictional characters going through horrible injuries & emotionally hurting each other#snippets from the bog#i will repeat what i have said multiple times before#i take the comic relief character. i hurt the comic relief character#i could have posted the little carnival half-scene. i could have#but ive been feeling stressed and caged and i need to let out some steam#and this is how i do that. controlled fictional violence <3
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guess who just got diagnosed with complex ptsd
#imagine going to therapy just to get an ocd and autism diagnosis#and then suddenly getting dropkicked and slam dunked like BET YOU DIDNT KNOW YOUR POST TRAUMATIC WAS ALSO STRESS DISORDERING#DUMBASS BITCH#Im joking to cope about it but actually getting this dropped on me when I wasnt expecting it at all is kinda really stressful#and the therapy alone was already making me anxious and hard to work on drawings and comic pages and stuff#so if I start falling back on that and not interacting with people a lot for a couple more days then understand that is why#but I also draw to cope with things so you will either see that or a sudden influx of Noriel drawings#no inbetween#canischat#I genuinelly think Im going to throw up lol
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I've been looking for this one au where Len basically becomes a mad scientist and turns his friends into robots one by one for a while now, and I'm beginning to realize that I just read through your blog while half asleep a few months back and mixed together my memories of your flower hivemind and composite au
this is very funny to me. i'm absolutely honored this blog's posts were enough to evil-farming-game an entire vocaloid au into your memories 😂
i can give you this doodle; it's composite au but i'm sure it'd fit very well with this theoretical mad scientist len au lololl
#ask#anonymous#this is ALSO funny to me bc of 'mad scientist' and 'flower hivemind au' in the same paragraph. it reminds me of an old scrapped idea#i had about where tf the flowers even came from in the first place but i ended up never doing anything w/ it#i've been thinking abt composite au though uag i want to do more w/ it... rip the unfinished refs and one google doc thing i have#shaking myself like ITS OKAY IF THE STORY KINDA SUCKS AT FIRST!! YOU NEED TO START SOMEWHERE#cus i mean i wouldve never gotten anywhere w/ Certain Things had i not started with the og shitty versions. which were SHIT#but its wild to think ~7 years later i transmogrified them into the things they are now. wack. makes me wonder what will happen#to stuff im making now later down the line if i go and revisit it. SO CONCLUSION YES BITCH GET OVER YOUR FUCKING ANXIETY#i think my other problem is i'd loveee to reveal it slowly with like art pieces comics etc but i dont got time for that 😔😔#CURSE WITH LITERALLY EVERYTHING I MAKE TBH not just fandom shit but original shit too. i need to get over myself#cause i do know respectfully not everyone has the skill/time/desire to pick apart things for symbolism so a clearer explanation#would prob be more accessible. and easier for ME TOO TO HAVE SHIT IN ONE FUCKING PLACE MAN. actually how i've been taking notes lately#sorry these are some longass fucking tags im talking to myself. just went into a new academic year w a lot of stress#so thinking abt my own crazy stories keeps me sane and makes me feel like i have control over at least SOME aspect of my life#anyways circling back mad scientist len sounds incredible lowkey though lmao. its always the stem lens 😔💔✌️#JK?? but i do joke abt composite au len partly going insane bc he's a biochem major essentially so yeah bitch i fucking get it 😭 no wonder
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i have to read every new chapter of bsd twice because without fail i spend the first read through too distracted hoping for akutagawa to process any of it
#WHERE IS HE GIVE HIM BACK#also i am Stressed™️#what is happening#☹️#@ asagiri leave them all alone😭😭#WHAT is the beef with aya let her BE😭#also SPOILERS STOP READING MY TAGS RN#but is bram’s outfit SUPPOSED to make us think he took over akutagawa’s body??#or am i just WAY too preoccupied with akutagawa#like the silhouette on the last page was so close to his vampire coat#but also like HOW much variety can you add to full black outfits in a black and white comic ya know#idk even if it was for good reasons i will be VERY salty#if it turns out that akutagawa was body snatched ON TOP of being killed and vampired#like actually leave him alone and give him back to me PLS#if this damn manga doesn’t chill with these dead/not dead plot twists soon i swear…..#😪😪#im tired#we’re all tired#and akutagawa is STILL dead😒#bsd spoilers#bungo stray dogs spoilers#bsd manga spoilers#bsd manga 116#bsd 116#bsd chapter 116
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honestly leave it to wc to use a plotline that usually has me cheering and clapping just have me go “…. alright then”
#in theory barley and violet dissing hoot and jumper is a good concept. they turned on them and tried to kill them#and they continued to torment them. they almost beat their sister to death#violet and barley dont owe them a single thing and im glad they told them to fuck off when they tried crawling back#‘’help us!’’ ‘why? you didnt help us.’’ is a good exchange i gotta stress that#but……. man the backstory and narrative choices in the entire series just kinda drags it down for me#like for one. if bloodclan is so abusive and scourge hated families. shouldnt that mean hoot and jumper are also victims?#actually why can they live together as brothers and no one cares and scourge can have them as his besties#(……. its almost like that rule makes no sense and is just a half assed way to make bloodclan seem eeeeeevil compared to the clans)#and second. wc is so anti redemption man. the only time we really and truly got one was fucking skystar#and even then. it was fucking skystar.#hoot and jumper are eeeeevil child killing kidnapping rogues who are not worth analyzing or considering oughhh#i stg btw this does not mean im defending them or wanted the siblings to instantly forgive them#but given the context of how bloodclan is treated as a whole as ‘’ewwwww those atheist monsters think theyre a CLAN’’#and barleys called a warrior just for this battle. idk it feels off#wc comics lb
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Wanna put your friend in a lil terrarium just to see what wacky things she does stg 😂
i actually Cannot Stress the migraine she gives me every time we hang out. like without fail she'll always say or do something that ranges from mildly questionable or irritating but relatively Whatever to How Have You Survived This Long Without Burning Your House Down Boiling An Egg
#snap chats#and then there's her just forgetting things or being late despite the amount of times ill remind her#and i keep stressing to her i cannot stand it when people are late. and then she shows up to things an hour late anyway#or 'when shes late' by fifteen minutes because she didnt think to text me she's there. and im already stressed and annoyed I. UGH i swear.#LIKE. i have only really had two irl friends and both of them i lowkey had to parent in some way#at least my childhood bestie she's like. she's grown a lot and even if i havent spoken to her in a while im real proud of her right#THIS MOTHERFUCKER THO. OUUUUUGGGH.... youre not supposed to say anythin if you dont got nothin nice to say#which is contradictory to the main body text but point is let me Not be any more mean than how ive been already LMAO#even funnier about her looking at that comic is that LITERALLY masumi says he's talking to jo ☠️☠️☠️☠️#did i already say i have to remind her who jo is every three seconds#like the entirety of chap 2 when ichi's out of jail she was all 'why doesnt he just say who ACTUALLY killed the guy'#and then when we finally run into the fuckass who 'actually killed the guy' she's just 'wait who's that'#then i tell her and shes like 'oh my god he's so old now' IT'S BEEN 18 YEARS DUMBASS#ngl did wanna make a comic based off that LMAO BUT POINT IS she tests my patience every day and i think its good practice#if im going to work with people in the future like ohh.. my god....#she told me once she's never been on a date and its like. yeah i wonder why you can't even be assed to show up on time to hangouts ☠️#like ive never had friends so maybe im just insane.. im not insane for wanting people to be on time tho....#OK IM BEING TOO MEAN LET ME CAP IT THERE
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out of the four ripples on the page
only these two are worthy of the spotlight by that the other two a actual shit
also long eared ripple supremacy
dropping to my knees in sadness, but remembered my queen and the sad stopped
but during the process two of my good outline pens fucking died, so the sad kinda won this time :(
#queen ripple#ripple star queen#kirby art#kirby fanart#your honor she has big ears so please be a little more quiet as she is very sensitive to loud sounds#i have this comic idea for ripple that i REALLY REALLY LIKE#wonder if i will ever even start it#due dates stress me the fuck out#and im not even half way#well this might stay in the sketchbook if im not going through with it#anyways this is my cope art ladies and gentlemen neither both or inbetween#i was legit going insane#time was going to fast for my liking#having moments of realizing im actually alive was kinda funky#its cold but ive learned to deal with it#i like the cold#okay enough with me rambling :)#hope you have a good day and you drink water and bundle up good at night#or dont if its hot where you live#apricot soda art
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(Not an rp ask)
What is your opinion on chau x kim? I'm not a shipper of it myself but I heard it was a proship since knives is 17 but also I saw she was 18 in the comic so I'm not sure where to stand on it honestly. But I'd like to hear your opinion about it !! Sorry if this is a bit of a random ask (ーー;
You're completely fine!! Do not even worry about it.
So, yeah- When Scott first meets Knives, and I'm not entirely sure how much time passes between then and when they start dating, it was *literally* her seventeenth birthday, as I am reminding myself reading back over these panels presently. And then at the start of book six, the first time we see (real, non-dream,) Knives, she has apparently been eighteen for a week!
Now, I'm going to preface with a little something before I go further into this: I am totally fine answering this ask and others like it I think! but, I will note, I do get like a (not fun) physical sensation in my chest- partly anxiety (lol) but also something else I think- thinking about them like 95% of the time- it's gotta be like. Handled The Right Way, if that makes sense. Let's get into it.
So, first off, I'm just gonna re: some of the stuff relative to this I've posted here before- both nonrp and rp, since I use RP to develop my read on Kim and shed some light on how I see things I guess!
These clips come from this ask (and reblog) here!
This rp ask here, which is simply too difficult for me to get in a good screenshot I feel, so I recommend just checking it and the tags for it out- I will share my Bonus Commentary reply though:
This ask as well! Tags less pressing, but still provide a little insight.
And this is probably a dumb inclusion if I really want to make a pseudonym to post fics under, but. I have posted my (very early) thoughts on the SPTO sparks scene to AO3 before, so- (and before going into this- I did remember that Julie and Gideon have that sparks scene after the fact!)
And here's the Barely Anything Lines hinting at the ship that I had in that fic that I used to justify that blurb, while we're here:
I think I've gone over my feelings a little bit in the discord as well, and there might even be more rp stuff relative to it, but I'm not going to go back and get any of that honestly- at least, not right now, or unless requested, since I don't really feel like it's necessary, if it does exist. This gives a pretty good glimpse in I'd say- especially that second to last one there.
So. Yeah.
Used to ship it; have expanded my horizons since then. I don't really want to knock it because like... for some people this is a legitimate life experience for them- one that might have even turned out well, miraculously. And there also a lot of minors in this fandom evidently, so like, any other baby gays out there just wanting to Project for a minute? I feel that. Sincerely I do. It's not the wisest choice but better to read fanfiction about it than go out and actually make out with a 23 year old, Gods forbid. (Genuinely felt sick thinking about that; fucking gross. Any minors out there: Please Make Good Choices. Look out for yourselves. Begging you. There are too many freaks in this world- I promise you whoever you're thinking of probably isn't the magical exception.)
But there are definitely things to consider about them that are very interesting to me, still, so like. I'm in this weird state of conflict; I don't know if it's just me being like "it happened, you can't escape it" or having been desensitized/some sort of Brainwashed by how many times I had to use Knives in the game to quick heal- maybe something else but I just don't feel like flaying myself open like that unprompted for just anyone- but like. Oh man.
Sorry, gathering/writing this that feeling like went away but came circling back for this last bit, it seems. Which makes sense I guess. I feel like I'm setting myself up for a Pyre right now eugh shfsgkjfhjg
I dunno. I'm not gonna lie and pretend like I know it to be some big formative ship for me in my early teen years, but it was kind of important in finally coming around to realizing how queer I was, I think. My memories of the time are fuzzy, but it would have been one of the things- there were likely larger ones, my current obsession could be recoloring my past here so I'm trying to acknowledge that.
But there is like. A dynamic that is posited by them that is also one I'm a really big sucker for. More so now than I was then, so I find myself grinding my teeth about that a fair bit at times.
I definitely still really like it as something unrequited no matter what I think; I like the idea of Knives having a really big crush on Kim, genuinely. I think it's cute and funny as hell for how uncomfortable it would make Kim, who's just trying so hard not to be a fucking creep while this ray of sunshine hangs off her- something she absolutely does not deserve (in her eyes.)
I'm obviously more partial to Kim resisting any advances made at her, but I can understand so, so badly why someone might be attracted to the idea of Knives managing to thaw some of Kim's frigidity with that. Ugh.
If they work for me, I think they'd have to work for me after Knives is gone at college for a bit. Kim would need to know Knives for longer than she knew her as a minor- and they'd have to be FRIENDS in that time, quite strictly. Kim would need to not feel (intensely, because frankly, she would unavoidably feel this way at least a little no matter what,) like she was a fucking groomer going into it, basically. I don't know what I think past that.
You know, I'll put my feelings like this: with the exception of a fic I saw recommended to someone that intrigued me, I have managed to resist reading any/many fics featuring them, despite it being a large majority of the wlw Kim fics that exist, and also kinda just Kim fics generally. It's kind of Insane, especially considering how much Kimona SCREAM at you from the pages of the comic itself- but I digress....
I've been working on this for like over an hour now I think so I really should cut myself off. I am like,, too hungry and mildly stoned to be rambling off about this maybe. If you want more concise/specific thoughts, I recommend prompting! I can try and channel the responses easier with a bit more direction, maybe?
...
actually another thing real quick- I like. Do not know that I could ever feel comfortable, truly, consuming content for them, not knowing if the OP has good intentions. I just Do Not trust people, largely, so that's just like. A little thing. Idk. "Death to the author" or whatever but I am still allowed to feel personally uncomfortable ya know! I don't want them taking my silent observation as like,, passive acceptance in the event that they were. Idk if that makes sense, I need to go eat already, I'm hitting post before i drag this out to TWO hours
#w oof. that was a doozy. mostly just on account of how long ive been working at it#but yeah. they fuck me up in some sort of way idk man. i cannot stress enough how much i want to bite people that are freaks about knives +#+ btw. like Going For The Throat I Need You To Bleed Out And Die want to bite people. so even considering it casually i find myself feeling#+like i am a massive hypocrite with the word scrawled in blood across my back or something. but im just a starving gay sdfjkhjsd#and i love Kim So Much. Denying myself Kim content is Actual Hell. and I have persisted.#(i mean. i also probably read some of this stuff back when i was a teenager. so. idk how much im really denying myself. but it's the +#+ thought that counts right? right?? hh... i likely dont remember any of them anyway so. it should totally count.)#ooc#txt#glitterminionking12#am i really gonna put these in the tags.... hhhh yeah i guess i am#if any of the people that know me read this and can see i am shooting myself in the foot here please slap me in the discord i'll understand#i might just be having a Moment#sp comic#spvtw#spto#kim pine#knives chau#possibly the only post- unless i get asked about it more- that is gonna get the ship tag for them i guess? what even is their ship name...#ship stuff#no seriously what is their ship name im sitting here blanking i dont know how to tag this for people that dont wanna see it. or do i guess#knikim#sounds kinda like knick-em in my mind so im doing that for now#since starting to type any of the ones i thought of doesnt make a suggested tag pop up or anything#if there is one someone please tell me maybe and ill tag it#long post#headcanons#i guess?#spvtwtg#forgot that one
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you know i mentioned last night that i realized only *after* i started rereading david copperfield that since i recently became an aunt, i was gonna see the story from a whole new angle and start relating more to betsey trotwood. i didn't even think about how at salem house i was gonna be poor mr. mell...
#i mean i didnt really think about mr. mell much because he's more of a minor character#he doesnt come back throughout david's life like steerforth or traddles or emily or agnes or#or or or all these other dozen major characters#in fact i only think of salem house as a minor part of the book. the shit we gotta get through to get to aunt betsey again#in a sense i cant wait to be done with it again#but oh my god reading about the rowdy schoolroom and how he's hardly managing to handle his stress#MEEEEE!!!!!! ME AN EDUCATOR#diana rereads david copperfield#literally just let me fucking play my flute badly in peace#you know i really have grown up a lot in the past 5 years bc all the adults used to just be caricatures to me#in the sense that all of dickens' characters are kind of caricatures. theyre exaggerated and silly#whether theyre supposed to be archetypal good or bad people.#because the way dickens uses hyperbole. sometimes it's just too true!#like the assholery of steerforth. how disingenuous but charming and persuasive he can be#that is SO true to how it feels to look up to older people as a young child. david copperfield's yielding to him is so realistic#david copperfield's own childish innocence throughout the early chapters seems comical but is emotionally true to how childhood feels.#these were the parts of the novel that resonated with me very deeply at 19. and they still do#but oh now. now i understand the position of the working adults. especially since i work w kids now how different it all feels.#and have worked w kids for several years too. but only about a year after reading dc. actually almost 2 years#im one of the bumbling incompetent adults. oh dear. oh lord.
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man why does buying comics suck so bad
#Shitpost#im like always missing shit and its so like. Stressful#i wish i could go to the store weekly but i work from home and so#its like. I take a trip to go#and so if it isnt in my pullbox im screwed and like#idk. i have a lot in my pullbox but not enough i guess idk#buying comics sucks and its stressful trying to understand like#how to get all of what i want#*me missing the entire gotham war arc or whatever i guess*#jk i have a little. Which is WORSE actually lmao#Like. I want to support my local store but should i just like go full digital or something?#fucking dies forever
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