#then i put myself to bed with a little doodle moment

[alsojnpie]

someone spilled m&m's at the airport

[https-witch]

Sometimes I feel very much overwhelmed by witchcraft.

It's rarely just witchcraft alone, but everything that requires effort. Which happens. But I still struggle with finding small things to do in those moments. Not doing anything just makes me feel worse.

So here's a few VERY CASUAL & SIMPLE things I can do while rotting away in my apartment :

Make a funky tea ☕

I make it with frothed milk. It looks very fancy. Put a little cinnamon on top too! I try to pick my tea with intention & imagine myself in a lovely café. I doodle, I plan the week, I just write stuff. After every sip I can sigh very loudly, letting out the bad vibes.

Light a candle & talk to it 🕯️

Just pretending someone is there with me makes me feel better. Candles react very easily! Talking usually helps to clear the mind & candles are good for divination. Maybe the way it burns could tell me something. The conversation can also be with something else; a plant, a plushie, a cat

Do some streches 🧘

I've been obsessed with my posture for a few years now & I try to do some stretches daily. It's hard. But I always feel much better afterwards. I have a very vivid imagination as in I can easily picture stuff in my head & I like to imagine the bad energy leaving my body. Like black fog just pouring out of my hands, nose, mouth, feet..

I can literally roll out of bed, fall on the floor & start stretching. Or I can do it in the shower!

So that's all very simple & barely witchcraft, I feel so *blergh* & I just want to let it out. Maybe I'll help some people along the way.

ALSO, LAY DOWN ON THE FLOOR. THE COLD KITCHEN TILES. THE WOODEN BEDROOM. WHATEVER. THAT SHIT HEALS SOULS!

[oh-koenig-my-koenig]

waking up in his bed

(cw: age gap 25/41, nsfw, mdni, marks, a bit of spit stuff, dry (wet?) humping, swallowing)

part before: hanging off König's shoulder

When I open my eyes up again, for just a moment, I don’t know where I am. My own confused image stairs back at me – right, the mirror on his ceiling! And I laugh to myself because it’s ridiculous. The whole concept is!

I stretch myself, yawning. Realising that I’m alone in the kingsize bed. I mean, it would be impossible to miss the big guy. I still feel his lingering touches, the way he held onto me as we fell asleep together. Reminders of the first time hooking up after the concert.

I’m somebody who normally can’t sleep in a tight embrace, but he was pratically latching onto me both times. Subconsciously in his sleep. Holding onto me, softly still. If it were possible for him to wrap himself around me completely, I bet he would’ve done it. His big arm resting over my torso, the forearm securely between my breasts, his hand on the side of my face. One of his legs strewn over one of mine. Almost like a human weighted blankie. And I still slept soundly.

I yawn and stretch again, until I notice a little piece of paper stuck to my arm. I peel it off and look at it.

That explains where he went off to, but it also makes him out be a liar, because I don’t believe I look anywhere near cute in the morning. Drooling into the soft pillow underneath my head. My hair standing off to the side. Probably snoring as well.

And I have to laugh as I see the little doodle in the right corner. Honestly, it’s a relief to see – considering the man’s many talents – that he isn’t good at everything. Drawing doesn’t seem to be his forte. But at the same time, this was painfully cute. The note, the doodle, everything. I giggle to myself and finally pull back the covers.

I assess the ‘damage’ while I get up: Booty hurts a little bit, probably from getting fucked into the hard wood surface of the bar. The muscles in my legs are a little tense, my shoulders and neck feel a bit stiff, and my pussy is a little bit sore (and deeply satisfied). The hickeys and the faint bitemark on my inner thighs bring a little smile to my face. It couldn’t have been clearer if he had written ‘König was here’ in waterproof sharpie on them.

I put on my shirt, still not daring to take one of his because of how it might look, and curse myself because I didn’t pack more clothes. It’s not terribly stinky or stained, but it definitely looked better yesterday. I quickly brush my teeth, my eyes darting to the shower, remnants of last night in the forefront of my mind before I go on a search for my panties.

I find them on the floor in the bar, the memories of yesterday flooding me, the forgotten cocktail still on the bar. He had to make another one, because the icecubes had already melted and the gin was warm.

I leave the cellar going up the stairs until I stand in the living room again, looking at the books I set aside yesterday.

There is another crystal tumbler on the end table, this one empty. Just one because we shared it.

The glass moving from my hand to his and back, while we were listening to music, talking. Cuddling on the couch. My legs splayed over his thighs, barely reaching all the way to the other side. His arm around my waist, his thumb painting little circles over my hip. My fingers tangled in his hair and digging into the scalp, massaging gently until he was humming quietly.

His mouth placed on the glass where mine was, just a moment before, taking another sip.

Lingering kisses, slow and sweet, turning into little sips of the drink being passed between us. Tasting him and the gin at the same time. A heady combination.

I felt myself getting sleepier and sleepier the later it got, until I yawned and almost fell asleep in his arms, then he finally got me to agree that we should head to bed.

I hear the front door open, the sound ripping me from my memories. I turn around, skipping in that direction.

König is standing in the hallway, taking off his shoes, a grocery bag in his hands. In his usual leatherjacket, shirt and… sweatpants? Casual black sweatpants. Yeah no, I totally feel normal about them. I can’t help but ogle him, because he looks like a wet dream, even in the most mundane outfits.

He sees me, his face lighting up in a grin. “No pants again, huh?”, he comments, his eyes dropping down my body.

I blush. “Uh, I can put some on, if it bothers you.”

He laughs. “Doncha dare hide that cute ass of yours.” He comes closer and leans down, dropping a kiss onto my mouth and his hand to my ass. Patting it twice, quickly and playful. “I almost didn't want to leave bed this morning...”, he whispers against my lips and deepens the kiss, for just a moment.

“I got your note.”, I say as we tumble into the kitchen.

He puts the shopping bag down on the counter. “Yeah, went to the supermarket. And I also got us some croissants from the bakery.”

“The little shop at the corner to Main Street?”, I ask.

“Yes.”, he smiles.

“Hell yeah, I love their croissants, they're the best.”, I exclaim.

“Baked goods, the only thing the french are good at.”, he comments pointedly.

“Oh man, you and the french.”, I laugh as I hop onto the kitchen counter beside the coffee maker. Watching him unpack the groceries and getting said baked goods.

He pulls one croissant out of the brown paper bag and hands it to me unceremoniously. I grab it and take a bite, the flakey dough bursting as my teeth cut through it. The little sigh that drops from my lips sounds a little too enamored, a little too enthused for just eating a croissant. He looks at me, his jaw dropping just a bit.

“What?”, I ask, still munching on the pastry dough.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head mumbling something that sounds a bit like "never thought I'd be jealous of a fucking croissant".

That makes me laugh. "Thanks for getting them, but you didn't need to get up early for that."

He shrugs. "I'm an early bird anyway out of habit, and I had to go out and buy some milk, because I forgot about that.", he explains, pulling said milk out of the grocery bag.

I look at him, a little confused.

"I drink my coffee black, so I never have any milk at home.", he adds, as if that was a given.

A grin stalks on my face. “Of course you do.”, I say pointedly.

“Now, what's that supposed to mean?”, he asks.

I tilt my head and pull my brows up, all like 'are you being serious?'. “Let's just say that I would have been way more surprised if the over 40-year-old metalhead, who has a car that looks like it's from the nineties, who still collects vinyls and CDs, who would rather drink his gin neat and who's biggest kitchen appliance is a barista coffee machine with all the knick-knacks – if he drank a latte in the morning.”

He laughs, the hearty sound making me all giddy. “Tell me how you really feel.”, he says, his eyes sparkling at me, while jokingly clasping one hand over his heart.

“Sorry.”, I say, grinning at him.

He waves it off. “Don’t be, I deserved that.” He gets some coffee beans ready, putting them through the grinder and then fitting the portafilter into the barista machine.

While the coffee drips down into the cup, he comes closer standing right in between my knees. “But, how about you, missy? Do you like a latte in the morning?” The little quirk of the corner of his mouth is telling me that this isn’t just some question about my coffee preferences. It’s one of his telltale signs.

“I do, but I feel like I'm missing the joke here.”, I say, looking up at him. Sitting on the counter, he still towers over me, more than a head taller than me.

He chuckles. “Well, ‘Latte’ is also another word for boner in German, so...” He sees the grimace I'm making and laughs some more, and I join in, while shaking my head. He steps away and repeats the process, getting another coffee ready.

"I'm starting to think that your language only has dirty innuendos and curses.", I remark, jokingly.

He grins. "That just might be my vocabulary." He pours some milk into a metal jug and froths it, adding the froth to the mug after the coffee is ready. Wincing at the shitload of milk he put in. "Here, a latte for the lady.", he says, while handing me the mug.

My eyes drop down of their own volition, as I take it from his hands. Openly staring at his crotch, where his sweatpants are clearly tented by his dick. And he comes even closer with the way I'm looking at him.

My gaze pans up again until it lands on his face, his expression stoic, as he’s pulling an eyebrow up, like he’s awaiting what I’ll do. I take a drink, tasting the coffee on my tongue. "Thank you. For the latte." Trying to hide my grin behind the mug. "Sir.", I add, cheekily.

He leans forward, placing his hands on either side of me, caging me in. The look in his eyes burning into me. I still grin up at him, but I feel like I'm in danger. In danger of getting devoured like one of those flaky croissants.

"You wanna say that again with your lips around my dick? Hm?", he asks and my breath halts. Thinking about yesterday again. When I sat on his bed, gagging around his cock.

"Maybe.", I whisper. He just leans down to kiss me and I can taste the bitter coffee on his tongue, as it strokes against mine. Slow and deep.

I put the cup down to the side before my arms reach up, holding onto his shoulders, his hair falling to the front, the tips of it brushing over my skin. I push some of it back, my fingers tangle in the long strands, while I answer his kiss.

He's not breaking away, still caging me in, even though one of his hands moves to my panties. The fingers toying with the hem, easily slipping under the fabric. My legs spread even wider, I squirm into his touch and our kiss gets messier, sloppier. His thumb finds my clit, softly pressing against it, and the light touch makes me needy for more.

"Fuck, please.", I whimper into the kiss, and I can feel his lips turn up into a smile. He breaks away, keeping up the constant brushes against my clit, kissing down to my neck.

My hand tries to reach for his dick, but he catches my wrist. "Just- let me.", he murmurs, pressing his hot mouth against my pulse point. Sucking on it softly. A needy mewl escapes me when his middle finger slips into me. Just one digit, not quite enough to fill me up, even with his big fingers.

Soft teasing touches, enough to get me worked up, but not enough to get me anywhere near finishing. And he knows what he's doing.

König pulls back, his lids hooded, his gaze intently on me, which makes me acutely aware of the expression on my own face, the O shape of my mouth. His finger is still moving inside me, the brushes against the most sensitive spot make me squirm.

I teether on the edge of an orgasm, until he pushes another one inside me, filling me up. His fingers move fast now, against my fluttering walls. Coaxing the release out of me and I come, pulsing around them. Leaving me wet and needy for more touches.

He pulls the panties over my pussy again, the fabric soaking up my juices in an instant. His hand clasps over it, softly massaging over it, until they soaked wet with my own juices.

König simply pushes his sweatpants down, pulling out his cock, letting it rest against my clothed pussy. Then he spits and a dollop of saliva drops onto my panties. The sound alone makes me whimper, while I lean back until my shoulderblades hit the cabinets behind me.

The spit runs down, right over the tip of his dick. He drags it through it, spreading the wetness on his length, soaking my underwear even more. Slow and deliberate, taking his time. The slick just being enough, so he can flit over it.

I groan at the sight, the filthy little move making me even hotter. He pulls up one eyebrow while looking at me, the smirk on his lips infuriatingly cocky. He ruts his hips forward, his hard dick pushing against my pussy lips and clit. The friction due to the fabric in between us, against my sensitive skin, is almost too much to handle, my hands gripping his arms, nails digging into his biceps.

His hands splayed on my thighs and he looks down, my eyes following his until we're both fixed on the spot where he is rubbing himself against me. The little hickeys on the skin next to it. His thumb coasts over the bitemark on my inner thigh, a faint imprint still showing up. He lifts his hand for just a moment, pressing a kiss to his pointer and middle finger and then pressing them onto the mark.

If I wasn't so wound tight from his teasing touches, I think I would've actually awww'ed at the little gesture, him kissing the bite better. Like this, I only sigh, grinding against his dick, searching for more friction.

He slumps forward, his forehead resting against mine. "Fuck, I need to be inside you.", he grunts, his words sending a shiver down my spine. He lifts me from the countertop, my legs wrapping around him.

"What, no magic condoms appearing out of thin air this time?", I tease him, my fingers stroking over his shoulders.

“The magician is out of props for such stunts.”, he grumbles. “And there will still be enough time to fuck you on every surface in the whole house.”

He hurries upstairs to the bedroom where he sets me down on the bed and we both scramble to get off our clothes. I pull my shirt over my head and fall into the soft mattress, watching him shed his. His dick is hanging out his sweatpants, half caught in the waistband, bobbing up and down with his movements before he lets the pants fall down to the floor.

He grabs a condom out of the pack that's lying out on the nightstand, the packaging torn at the front, and puts the rubber on.

My eyes pan up from the dark fluff of his happy trail, the tummy, the upper abs and his huge pecs, dark hair peppered over them. His nipple piercing. The broad shoulders, adorned with black ink that spans down his arms as well. Trying not to look at the parts where cuts and other scars disturbed the otherwise impeccable images inked into the skin.

He looks back at me, from underneath his eyebrows, one of them quirking up, as he climbs onto the mattress, his weight pushing it down.

I yelp and giggle, as he grabs me by the hips, pulls me into him, until the swells of my ass hit his thick thighs. My legs drop to the side on their own, and he takes that as the invitation it is, his hand pulling the wet panties to the side and just slipping into me.

We both groan as he settles deep inside me, the stretch of his thickness making my head drop back and my eyes roll back.

His hand catches my chin, softly digging into it. Making me look up as he sits back on his knees and slowly starts to fuck me.

“See how fucking pretty you are?”

His eyes are on me, on my face, while I look up at the mirror, focused in on the point where we are connected. Seeing how his dick pushes into me, until he's balls deep, his tip pressing up against my cervix.

Sliding out, inch by inch, almost completely pulling out. In again. I feel the stretch as my pussy takes him in. It's a tight fit, but I'm wet and dripping from how he worked me up.

And out. The feeling of emptiness only dissipates, when his hips snap forward, filling me up quickly, and a moan drops from my lips, the shape contorted to an O.

He starts to fuck me harder, his hand coming around my throat, his fingers closing around my neck, gentler than I would have liked. Pulling me into him while he pounds into me. His hand is other still grabbing onto my panties, the fabric aching as he uses it as leverage to move me into his thrusts.

Rip.

The sound of fabric ripping cuts through the otherwise soft erotic soundscape. The drowsiness drops out of his gaze, his eyes widen in shock, as he looks down, stopping his thrusts. "Scheiße, sorry.", he curses.

I laugh a bit while I shake my head. "Don't worry, it's just clothes.", sitting up on my elbows, reaching out for him. Needing him to continue.

He lets go of them, the fabric hanging from my hips, and leans forward, pressing a deep kiss onto my mouth in apology. His hand softly strokes the side of my face, his thumb caressing my cheek. Close, so close, his forehead resting against mine, as he rolls his hips against me.

He straightens back up, picking up his thrusts again. His arm spans over my whole body, the muscled limb covering half of me. I feel so small compared to him, the contrast so stark when I'm splayed out like this in front of him.

His hand moves down a bit and his thumb pushes against my lips. I lick it, play with it and then release it with a pop, but just a moment later two of his fingers push into my mouth again.

He sinks in deep, my lips closing around them. Two is almost too much already. I start to lick them, to suck on his fingers, hesitatingly at first, but the little sounds that drop from his lips spur me on.

He moves them in unison with the pushes of his dick into me. The combined touches making me lose my mind fast. It almost was like he was fucking me from the front and back at the same time.

I gag around him, spit coats his digits as I suck them off like I would another part of him. And I guess, he is thinking about that as well, the heat in his gaze intensifying.

The sight mirrored back to me – of his dick pounding into me, while his fingers are fucking my mouth all sloppily, pushing into the wet heat, my lips barely reaching the lettering on his knuckles, is getting me worked up.

From the way he's looking at me, his eyes fixed on my face, while I swallow him up, it's driving him crazy too. Groaning, as I take him deep.

Him, just him, fucking me. And me at his mercy. Full, so full of him. And I can't help but think about what it would be like to have him fill all of my holes. The thought alone sends a tingle of filthy desire down my spine and I hum around him.

"Fuck, look at you, taking me so well.", he drawls. His words, the soft growl in them, wash over me and I can feel the zap of pleasure deep, when he bottoms me out, his dick hitting the right spot again.

I come, my body arching off the sheets, my sighs and screams muffled by the fingers in my mouth, as my eyes roll back.

He doesn't stop, fucking me through it. My pussy squeezes around him, and while I still come down from the orgasm, I can feel his other hand grabbing my hip, holding tight. His fingers still in my mouth, stroking against my tongue. Sinking into my throat, the letters on his knuckles disappearing as he pushes further in, and I gag around them once again.

They leave my mouth, all of a sudden, and I take a deep breath. "Please fuck, I-", he groans. "I want to come in your mouth. May I?" The inflection in his voice is almost pleading.

I nod, the thought alone sending another shiver of arousal through me. “Yes.”, I answer breathlessly, still a little hazy from my orgasm.

He pulls back entirely, his dick slipping out of my pussy. I scramble onto my knees, while he gets up from the bed, standing in front of it.

Getting off the condom quickly, his hand running up and down his length, continuing to chase his release. My spit is still on the two digits that were just inside me, now slowly coating his cock.

I press a soft kiss to the tip that is leaking precum, tasting the saltiness on my tongue. Flicking it over the piercing. My eyes pan up, searching for his, before I take him a little deeper into my mouth. Sucking on his tip while he jerks himself off. Hasty and desperate. A rumbly moan shakes his chest, his eyes rolling back.

"Fuck, gonna cum.", he mutters, the words all breathy.

I hum around his dick, licking and sucking eagerly, when he spills onto my tongue and down my throat. I lick up every single drop, swallowing it all. He shakes and shivers when I don't stop sucking until he's spent.

I release him with pop, when his fingers grip my chin, and open my mouth to show him. "Good fucking girl.", he drawls, the praise washing over me, as I sit back on my knees. He crouches down a bit, his eyebrows raised in anticipation. Like he's waiting for something, but he doesn't say anything.

My cheeks blush red, as I remember what we talked about before. "Thank you, Sir.", I say, looking him straight into his eyes.

His answer is a deep satisfied sound, almost turning into a growl, as he leans forward, capturing my mouth in a kiss. Crawling into bed again, pulling me onto his front, until I’m strewn over him like a blanket that isn’t even big enough for the big man. He’s softly stroking my back, the touches comforting and gentle.

I push my cheek into his pecs, the hairs on his chest tickling the soft skin, and I breathe in his scent. The warm calming tone. I feel his upper body rising and sinking with every single breath of his, until we are in unison. The deep calmness almost carries me away, and I feel myself getting sleepy. I mean, we didn’t get a lot of sleep. And getting fucked liked this was tiring, although not tiresome at all.

In the silence around us, a thought of mine cuts through post-fuck haze.

“I don’t wanna go home.”, I whisper against his chest, after looking for the right words to say.

His hand stops for just a second. “Then don't.”, he answers simply, continuing his soft caresses.

I lift my head from his pec, looking at him. “Are you sure? I don't want to disturb your vacation.”, I ask.

“I'm not on vacation, I'm on leave.”, he explains. “And you're not disturbing anything.” A little reassuring smile is appearing on his lips.

“I didn’t bring much though. Not even like any more clothes.”, I say hesitatingly.

“Would it be terribly selfish of me to put you in my stuff to keep you here?”, he asks, the smile widening a bit.

I laugh. “I fear, I won't fit into any of that. I mean, I think I could build a tent to sleep in from the shirts you wear.”

“That's fair.”, he grins at me, pushing my hair out of my face. And then he kisses me again, sweet and slow, until I sigh against his lips.

“You have to stop kissing me like that.”, I say, teasingly.

His smirk drops from his face. “Why?”, he asks.

“Because it makes me want to sit on your dick again.”, I jokingly confess.

He starts laughing, his whole body shaking. “That can be arranged.”, he grins at me.

“But – we can’t stay in bed the whole weekend.”, I retort.

“We can’t?”, he pipes up, his question somewhere between a pouty joke and sincere query.

I think about it for a second. “Mmh, I don’t know. Might tire you out, old man.”, I tease him, sticking my tongue out at him.

His eyes light up, all of a sudden, I get flipped, the whole world is spinning around me. He is on top of me, his weight presses me down into the mattress. His thighs spread my legs for him, his dick lying over my tummy, already hard again.

He grabs another condom. “If you keep this up, we’re gonna go through the whole packet.”, he jokes, one side of his mouth topping up in a smirk.

“Is that a challenge?”, I ask, caressing down his chest, inching in on his dick, while he is still fiddling with the rubber.

He grabs my wrists and pins them over my head, stretching me out on the mattress, while I grin up at him, splayed out like that.

“If you want it to be…”, he whispers against my face, his lips kissing down to my neck while he pushes inside me.

The mug on the kitchen counter is still half full, the coffee now cold. I take a sip, relishing the milky liquid running down my throat. Sitting here at the kitchen island in just his shirt. The Dark Tranquility one he wore when we first met.

“What are you doing?”, he asks me, utterly confused, as he sees me. He put on his sweatpants again and they are as delicious as they were before. Especially in combination with his naked chest.

“Finishing my coffee.”, I explain, taking another long sip.

“But that’s… cold.”, he says, the disgust palpable.

“Yeah, I like it like that. I drink them lukewarm. At best.”, I explain, with full confidence.

“Woman, you drive me crazy.”, he sighs, then laughs, making himself another coffee. Fresh, hot and black. “One of these days, we’re gonna manage to drink the drinks at the temperature they’re so supposed to be enjoyed at.” The loud noise of the coffee maker cuts through my laughter.

“We can certainly try.”, I say, taking another sip from my blasphemous coffee.

“So, about your stuff.”, he starts, as he leans against the kitchen island. The mug in his hand is looking ridiculously small compared to him. Just like me.

“Yeah, my panties are kinda ruined now, too.” I say and shoot him a pointed look.

“I don’t have any panties that will fit you.”, he says, the corner of his lips quirking up.

“No shit sherlock.”, I remark sarcastically, lifting the shirt that is hanging from my shoulders. That’s almost reaching to my knees. You could fit three of me in there.

“We can go to your apartment, you can look after Mimi and get some clothes, and then come back here. It’s no big deal.”, he suggests.

I sigh. “You sure?”

He nods, just waiting for my answer patiently. While I contemplate if it was okay to stay here for longer.

“Okay, quickly, just to get some stuff.”, I agree.

When we go to leave, I notice that my shoes are neatly lined up, not at all how I left them, when I stormed into the house yesterday evening. Standing just right beside an old pair of his combat boots.

next part: painting his nails or more stuff in the Masterlist ~

[thecynthh]

a little ink - C.S

summery - y/n is journaling in bed but chris gets bored of his phone and begins to play around with y/n's stationary.

notes - fluff <33333, chris is so boyfriend, i thought the fandom needed more fluff, short

a/n - hey yall, this is an apology gift because ive been bad on being active and writing so enjoy this lil thing i whipped up.

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i stationed myself on my side of the large bed with a little tray table on top of my bare legs. my shorts barely covered up to my mid thigh so the vent near me was absolutely chilling. i begin to go slowly when i'm trying to write a title for my next page, i began to journal when my boyfriends brother and my therapist recommended it to me, despite how simple matt’s was, I thought i could take it up a notch and make it a little cutesy. 

my pencil case was jam packed with highlighters, colourful pens and high quality markers, my concentration stays strict on the page in front of me, i tried to keep my penmanship neat while i'm trying to write something in cursive. a warm hand wraps around my ankles as i look down beside me seeing chris look at me with want in his eyes. “hi chris,” i simply say looking at the boy while i put the cap back onto my brush tip marker. 

“hi baby,” he looks up at me with a beaming bright smile, he just radiates good energy and love. he drops his phone beside him now playing a song instead of the various audios from tiktok. 

his hand sneaks up into my pencil case grabbing a yellow marker from it. he uncaps it and i feel the light pressure of it press down onto my skin, the yellow marker glides along my scar, he continues to draw past it to make a star out of the previously hurt skin. chris knew i was self conscious about my scars, it was a permanent reminder of the pain i went through in highschool. 

he didn’t care though. he continued to draw random doodles on my leg, moving on to my arms where more scars lay hurt, he switched out his marker for a different colour the more he explored. little hearts, stars and chris’ signature riddle my legs and arms, i feel his writing getting a bit faster. It looks like a sentence but i couldn’t quite read it.

 i stopped what i was doing a long time ago, now just admiring what he was doing. he was so focused on writing his signature on the larger line of a scar i had on my arm using the line from my body to represent the line through the dollar sign he always made whenever he wrote his name. 

he does a very magnificent heart beside his name, filling it in still trying to be very soft on  my skin as the ink seeps in. he plants a fulfilling kiss onto the scar now covered in orange ink, he looks up at me with a little bit of a knowing look painted on his face. “im sorry, it was only meant to be a little ink but your scars are beautiful, as is the rest of you.” his finger underlines the sentence imprinted on my skin as he reads it out. 

“chris i'm gonna cry oh my gosh. you are so cute, you know that?” i saw trying to hold back a sob. 

a chuckle escapes his smiley lips “i love you so much y/n” his lips make contact with the star that started the rest of the pseudo tattoos. i wish i could keep this image in my head forever, because this was a moment too precious to let go of.

taglist - @westwiing13 @comet235 @mayhem73

[keisobe]

Imagine being Hobie's canon event. Everything is perfect and then WHAM . . .

Just like that, you're gone.

(I'm sorry I love hobie aND making myself suffer apparently-)

okay angsty i see i see and don’t worry, i love to suffer too shshsh ㅜㅜ ♡ ⋮ p.s. this was based heavily on gwen from tasm, so if it feels familiar, that’s why!

+ tw — angst. minor spoilers !! mentions of death. blood.

hobie would be in the amidst of trying to saving you. he never felt so much fear, anger, despair flooding throughout his tired body. if only he was an inch closer, his webbing was more quicker— you would’ve been alive.

he would remember the way you called out for his name, a desperate cry fading into dead silence. the glint in your eyes now completely lifeless and bleak, his webbing barely clung to your clothing as crimson pooled around the crown of your head. 

that’s the first time he ever cried in a long time. quiet sobs muffled under his mask, hidden away from the ecstatic cheers from those he managed to save.

you were his reason he abandoned the mantle of spider-man, but you also became his newfound strength to put back on the mask. he knew you never wanted him to give up, at least that’s what he believed you’d say.

the bracelets you wore during your last moments were wrapped around his wrist. your writing and little doodles still decorated his guitar. all the pictures he could find of you were hung along the walls beside the bed you guys once shared.

then he would keep one stuffed in his pocket. the one you guys took in a beaten up photo booth. the smudged image of your smile and silly expressions comforted him during his hardest moments.

though you were now a memory, he kept you safe in his heart. it’s just how it’ll be for now, that’s what hobie told himself infinite amount of times. 

the event of your untimely death played in one of the openings of the holographic web. he stared at it for a moment, thinking of ways that he could’ve prevented it. when your head grazes the cement for a split moment, he can’t help but turn away in shame. 

yet, hobie would simply shrug his shoulders when miles sadly gazes at him. 

“‘ey.. wha’ of it?”

it’s too late now, but if he could go back to that moment, he would rewrite your tragedy and have you right beside him.

KEISOBE © 2023. please do not copy, translate, or modify any of my work. all of my works are not permitted to be posted on any other sites.

[slut4thebroken]

Exposure Therapy pt. 8

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jonathan Crane × reader

Summary | You make the poor choice of teasing Dr. Crane, so obviously he has to punish you.

Warnings | 18+, sexual content, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, breeding, kissing, hickeys, praise, edging, crying (but in a hot way), consensual sex, orgasm denial, cockwarming?, emotions? idk, neither does he tbh, bestie has no idea how to comfort you💀

Words | 3.6k

Notes | Trying really hard to keep his character accurate😓 lmk what y’all think lol

Ao3 link | <3

Fic Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Part 7

Neither of you mentioned his confession again. He seemed to be acting mostly normal and only a little awkward and withdrawn so you tried to remain the same to assure him that nothing changed. You were sitting on the couch, doodling with a spare piece of paper he found as well as an extra pencil, when you broke the silence. 

“Where are you planning on sleeping?” You asked, eyeing the large space that was empty save for a desk, a chair, and a couch. 

“The couch.” He said, not looking up from what he was working on. 

“Where am I supposed to sleep?” You asked, making him sigh and turn his gaze to you. “For now you may sleep on the couch, I doubt I’ll be sleeping much anyway.” 

“Oh. Don’t you have an apartment? A bed?” 

“The cops are going to be looking for everyone that escaped, including myself- especially myself, because I created what caused all of that.” 

“Oh… What if I go? I can bring you back some clothes so you don’t have to stay in that and anything else you need? I doubt I can lift a mattress on my own though.” 

“You want to go to my apartment in the middle of town, wearing that?” He asked, raising his brows. You looked down at your outfit and frowned, just now remembering that you’re wearing it still. 

“People are dumb enough to hang their laundry up outside. I’ll just take something before getting downtown.” You suggested, but back tracked when he was silent for a moment. “I don’t have to, it was just an idea.” 

“What will you do if the police show up?” 

“Um… I’ll tell them you’re my boyfriend and I left something there that I need.” That made him scoff. 

“They won’t believe that.” 

“Fine. Ex boyfriend. Who’s been so busy working that I had to just go there myself.” You shrugged and he narrowed his eyes at you for a moment. 

“Fine. Know that if you get caught, I have no power or leverage anymore to help you.” Honestly you didn’t expect him to agree. You figured he might want to keep you within his sight at all times but that wasn’t the case. Trying not to read into this new found trust, you were going over the plan in your head. 

“Wait, is it even within walking distance?” You realized, worried the whole plan just fell apart. 

“It’s not on this island, so no. And the train is still down because of the bat.” 

“Oh… I can probably walk, it’ll just take me longer I guess.” The sun was rising anyway, so it’ll probably be fine. “Or I’ll ask someone for a ride.” 

“Do not do that.” He said sternly, making you frown. 

“Why not?” 

“Because this is Gotham and you are a young, attractive woman. You will more than likely be kidnapped, raped, or killed.” 

“What am I supposed to do then?” He let out a heavy sigh, and got something out of his desk drawer. When he told you to come to him, you stood, leaving the pencil and paper, and walked over. 

“Give me your hand.” You held your arm out to him and he gently grabbed your hand to put on a very weird shaped bracelet on your wrist. “In case you don’t have time to put the mask on, point it away from your face and hold your breath, then push this.” He pointed to a lever near the heel of your hand and you reached for it, trying to test the motion and get used to it, but he stopped you. 

“Not- now.” He strained, uncurling your fingers. 

“Sorry.” You said sheepishly. 

Then you were leaving, finding clothes that looked about the right size and changing in an alley behind a dumpster. The tricky part was the shoes but they’re subtle enough that they shouldn’t draw very much attention. You found an empty paper bag near the dumpster and put the mask in it then started looking for someone to drive you. You spotted an older woman getting into a car and immediately walked toward her. 

“Excuse me?” You said, making her pause. 

“No change, sorry.” 

“Oh no, I was actually hoping you could give me a ride. I have a job interview downtown and it probably wouldn’t make a good impression to show up all sweaty. But I understand if it’s too much trouble…” 

She only hesitated for a moment before agreeing, telling you to get in the back and asking for the address. You read it off the paper to her and ten minutes later you were pulling up in front of an apartment building. 

“You sure this is it?” 

“It’s for a small business.” You explained, quickly getting out of the car. “Thank you so much.” You dropped the smile as soon as you turned around to walk into the building. “Fuck,” You groaned, “I don’t have a fucking key.” How could you have forgotten that part? You decided to just walk inside, breathing a sigh of relief when you spotted a front desk. 

“Hi, I lost my key and my boyfriend’s out of town and I’m supposed to feed his cat,” 

“What number?” The man asked, bored. 

“178.” He reached back and grabbed a key, handing it to you impatiently. “Thanks...” He wasn’t lying when he said everyone and everything is corrupt or just doesn’t care. 

You made your way to the elevator and pushed 17. As you waited, you went over the list he gave you. Most of the stuff was easy, an extra pair of glasses in his desk drawer, a few pairs of clothes, shoes, a toothbrush as well as the extra one under the sink for yourself, etc. But you were mostly worried about the safe and the papers he wanted. What if you can’t open it? What if you grab the wrong ones?

The elevator opening with a ding removed you from your thoughts and you made your way to his door. You worked quickly, not wanting to increase your chances of getting caught, but you took the time to fold his suits, worried he’d be upset if you just threw them in his duffel bag. You opened the safe on the second try, putting the money that was in there in the duffel bag. 

Then you made your way to the desk. Even though the rest of the place was completely tidy, the desk was covered in different papers. He said they would be on top, not in a drawer, so you grabbed everything just to be safe. 

Before leaving, you went through his dresser, praying he wouldn’t be pissed, and got some shirts and sweatpants for yourself, as well as a hoodie and socks. 

The ride back was much easier since you had money to take a cab, but you still had to walk a few minutes, not wanting to be dropped off right in front of his “hideout” just in case. 

“No trouble?” He asked, barely glancing up from what he was writing. 

“Well I realized I forgot to ask about a key- speaking of which, you should probably move because the guy at the front desk just gave it to me.” The corners of his lips turned up and your cheeks went red, still not used to it. 

“Good job.” You stared at him in shock, feeling your cheeks heat up even more, but you tried to play it off. 

“Did you just compliment me?” You scoffed teasingly. 

“Don’t get used to it. Did you bring the papers I asked for?” 

“Oh- yeah.” You set the duffel bag on the desk and he opened it to inspect the contents. “I- I hope it’s okay, I brought just a few shirts and pants for myself too.” You said nervously. When he didn’t respond, you figured that meant it was okay. He started looking through the papers, then turned to you with raised brows. “I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to bring the wrong thing so I just took all of it.”

“Thank you.” He said, making your eyes widen. 

“Mhm.” Was all you could say in response. “Oh- here.” You said, suddenly remembering the wristband and taking it off to give it back. 

“Keep it.”

“What?” You choked out. “You- you’re not worried I’ll use it on you or something?” You asked, staring at him with furrowed brows. 

“Of course not.” He scoffed, then set the papers down and took out a suit and the shoes as you just waited awkwardly, not sure what to do. “Are you just going to watch?” He was teasing you, but there was still an edge to his voice. 

“N- no, sorry.” You blushed, turning around and staring at the ground, listening to the sound of clothes rustling behind you and thinking about how you’ve only ever seen his face, neck, hands, and cock- nothing else. The thought made you frown. “Unless it’s okay… then I’d like to watch.” You said quietly and the rustling stopped. 

“Why?” His tone was guarded. 

“I just- I haven’t seen you yet and you’ve seen all of me.” You explained meekly. “Nevermind, sorry.” You waited anxiously as you heard no movement from the man behind you. 

“Go ahead.” He said in a measured tone. You tentatively turned around, finding him in just a pair of dress pants, straight jacket on the floor and shirt in hand. The first thing you noticed was how lean he looks without his suit. The second were the small scars littering his torso. The third was his happy trail, leading down into his pants, teasing you. 

“Satisfied?” You looked up at him when you heard his voice, not able to read his expression. When all you could do was nod, his lips curled up into a small smirk. “Keep looking at me like that and I’ll fuck you stupid over the desk.” He warned, voice laced with arousal. 

“Is that a promise, doctor?” You purred, stepping closer to him, setting the wristband on the desk to have both hands free. He stiffened, but allowed you to move until you were right in front of him. Staring deep into icy blue eyes, you slowly raised your hands, as if you were approaching a wild animal who could attack at any second. His eyes moved to your hands, watching, but he didn’t say anything. So you slowly moved them closer until you could almost feel the heat from his body against your palms. His eyes moved back to yours and you searched them for a deterrent. When you found nothing, you placed your hands on his chest, sliding them down his stomach, making sure not to linger on any scars. You reached his pants and brushed over the button teasingly before snaking them back up his body. 

“You’re playing with fire.” He said lowly. Your hands reached his shoulders and you trailed them down his arms. Once you reached his hands, you grabbed the shirt and set it on the desk, then took both of his hands in yours, moving them around your waist. 

“On the contrary, Dr. Crane. I’m getting exactly what I want.” You placed your hands on his stomach again to snake around to his back. 

“Oh? And what’s that?” He said coyly, playing along. 

“You can let me keep teasing you to my heart's content or you can punish me. Either way I win.” You smirked, moving your hands down his back to his pants and following the waist line around his body until they met at the button. 

“You think you’ll enjoy however I choose to punish you?” He scoffed. 

“You said it yourself, doctor. You don’t want to hurt me. So I’m sure I can take it.” His hands moved to your hips, gripping tight enough to make you wince as he pushed you against the desk. 

“Foolish girl. You underestimate my desire to watch you crying and begging for my forgiveness. I have no problem torturing you, in fact, I’ll enjoy it.” You faltered at that. “Does that frighten you?” He asked, tilting his head. 

“You don’t scare me anymore.” You said quietly, feeling the arousal in your stomach quickly make its way between your legs. 

“That’s not what I asked.” He teased and you swallowed thickly, squirming under his gaze. 

“No.” You tried to keep your voice steady. 

“Maybe not yet. But I’m sure it will soon.” He reached a hand up to wrap around your neck, squeezing and pulling you forward as your breath hitched. “I don’t have to hurt you to torture you. You should know that by now.” He said quietly, gaze straying to your lips. 

“I can take it.” You said, equally as quiet, not even believing the words as they left your mouth. 

“You think so?” He cooed and you nodded in response. “I guess we’ll find out then.” He took a step back and you whined at the loss of his touch, reaching out for him. “Pick it up.” He said, gesturing to the straight jacket. Your eyes moved anxiously between him and the garment, hesitating. “This is the only warning I’m giving you— You don’t want me to tell you again.” You leaned down and picked up the straight jacket, then waited for his next command. 

“Put it on.” 

“Dr. Crane,” You whined, but he raised his brows, making you close your mouth and reluctantly slide it on. He stepped closer again then started buckling the restraints. 

“You seem to think that pain is the only form of punishment I’ll inflict. I guess given my history I shouldn’t be surprised but you need to get that idea out of your head right now or things will only get worse for you.” You stared at him with wide eyes but his gaze remained on the task of restraining you. “There are plenty of ways I can punish you.” He said clinically, like a doctor explaining something to a patient. “Like denial, for example. Not just orgasm denial… You can’t touch me either.”  

“Please- I’m sorry.” You whined, giving him puppy dog eyes that did not work at all. 

“I bet you are. I bet you’ll say whatever it is you think I want to hear right now. Unfortunately, the only sounds I want from you are moans and cries.” He led you over to the couch and kneeled in front of you to pull down your pants and underwear before having you sit. He discarded your shoes so he could fully remove your clothes, then pulled you forward to the edge of the couch and spread your legs embarrassingly wide. 

“I think you also underestimate my patience. I am more than willing to do this as long as it takes.” He started dragging his hands up and down your thighs, teasing you, never getting close to where you wanted him.   

“Please.” You whined as your hips started squirming. 

“Come now… We haven’t even started and you’re already begging? At least save that until the actual torture begins.” 

“Don’t want torture.” You muttered. 

“No? I thought you said this would be a win for you? That you can take it.”

“Please.” You whined, much brattier this time— all but throwing a fit.  

“There’s that attitude.” He chuckled. “Keep that up. It makes it more fun for me when you break.” His hands snaked up your thighs, then back down, teasing you. You whined and squirmed, but surprisingly, it worked. He moved a hand between your legs, swiftly pushing in two fingers and rapidly curling them against your walls. You let out a choked moan from the sudden pleasure as your head rolled back onto the couch and your hips bucked. He pulled you even farther down the couch, then leaned down and took your clit in his mouth. 

“Oh fuck,” You said through a moan, hips flinching as he groaned against you in response. Lifting your head to look down at him, you found his eyes already on you, making you blush and squirm under his gaze. After getting so turned on and not coming when you sucked him off before, your orgasm approached quickly. The volume of your moans increased as you started trying to rut against his face. He suddenly pulled back, his fingers halting, making you whine. 

“Please, I was so close.” You pouted. 

“I know.” He leaned back down, resuming the motions of his fingers as he started working your clit over in his mouth again. Your breathing grew heavier as you felt yourself nearing the edge again, but you let out a choked sob when he stopped. 

“Please!” You cried. 

“Shh. Be a good girl and take your punishment.” He muttered before leaning back down and continuing. You weren’t sure how many times you were on the cusp of pleasure before it was ripped away from you, but you knew it was at least five— after that you weren’t able to concentrate on counting through your crying and desperation. He pulled back but continued moving his fingers as you babbled out incoherent pleas. 

“I have to admit, my patience is wearing thin so I’ll only keep this up for a little longer.” You sobbed in relief at his words. “Once I’m ready to come, I’m gonna fuck your ass. Remember how much you liked it before? It won’t be nearly as pleasurable this time and you certainly won’t be able to come from it.” 

“No- no, please.” You said, panicked. The thought of being empty was enough to intensify your crying. “Please- I don’t care if I don’t come, just please fuck me.” You whimpered. 

“Shh, it’s okay.” He said softly, but you just shook your head. 

“No, I- I need your cock- please!” 

“How do I know you won’t come?” He asked, slowing his fingers to a stop before removing them, making you whimper at the emptiness. 

“I won’t! Please- I promise I won’t!” He watched you cry for a moment before cursing under his breath and working on taking his cock out of his pants. 

“Can’t fucking say no to you.” He muttered, helping you to lay down on the couch as he crawled over you. The second he pushed in, you let out a relieved sob that turned into a whine when you tried to move your arms. 

“Please- I want to touch you. Please let me touch you.” You whimpered, watching the way his brows furrowed as his mouth opened in a silent moan when he was all the way in. 

“I can’t, you still need to be punished.” He said breathlessly and you sobbed the hardest you have all night so far.  

“Please! Please- I’m sorry!” You cried and he shushed you as he brought a hand up to wipe away the tears on your cheeks. 

“I know, it’s okay.” He cupped your cheek and leaned down to kiss you as he slowly started moving. Trailing kisses up your jaw to your ear, he whispered, “You’re doing so well, little one. Making me feel so good.” You sobbed harder at the pet name— not used to such affection from him. 

“Oh god,” You moaned, already feeling close again. When he picked up the pace and began kissing and marking your neck, you started panting again. You tried to at least tone down your sobbing a little bit, but after you started, it was really hard to stop. 

“Fuck- I’m already close.” He whined, rutting into you desperately now. His hands never left your body as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, letting out quiet moans and shaky breaths. When he stilled with a low groan, your cunt ached at the way his cock was twitching inside you, painting your walls with his come. After a moment, his moans stopped and he was panting heavily into your shoulder. When he started pulling out, you sobbing intensified. 

“No! Please- please don’t- not yet.” You whimpered. 

“I need to get this off of you.” He said, lifting his head from your neck to look at the straight jacket. 

“I don’t care- just please don’t leave yet.” You cried. 

“Okay- It’s okay. Sit up like this.” He maneuvered you so that he was sitting on the couch and you were straddling his hips, his cock never leaving you. He started working on the straight jacket, unbuckling all of it until he could slip it off if you and toss it on the floor. Now that your hands were free, you realized that you couldn’t even do anything with them, not without making him uncomfortable. So you continued crying. 

“Okay, just- come here.” He muttered, pulling you down to lay on his chest. Your hands gripped his shoulders tight as you turned your cheek, listening to his heartbeat and feeling the warmth of his skin. His hands fumbled around for a moment before eventually settling on your hips and you knew that he was probably miserable right now. Honestly you’re surprised he didn’t just throw you off of him instead. 

“I’m sorry- I…” He shushed you, not letting you continue babbling out apologies. 

“Just breathe.” He said softly and you couldn’t help but obey. You let out a slow shaky breath, trying to calm yourself down. “That’s it. Just focus on breathing. You did so well for me, I’m very proud.” You let out another quiet sob at the praise and shushed you again as he moved a hand up to your hair, lightly stroking it to soothe you. 

“You’re okay.” He said softly. “Just breathe— you’re okay.”

Part 9

(For the sake of the plot, bestie is no longer taking oral contraceptives because he had her get an iud or something back in Arkham lol)

[cilil]

Today I unearthed a folder in which I saved some good memories from school, mostly drawings and doodles I made together with friends or by myself, and it's making me emotional.

I... found that I made fanart for a game I loved at that time and... the art wasn't bad. Especially for a teenager and beginner artist (yes, I am a beginner artist to this day, it's embarrassing, I know). The art was cute, even has some attempts at shading and converting colors to black and white. I like it. A lot actually.

And now I just sit on my bed, holding these old sketches, and wonder why I never pursued art. I loved it so much. I had fun. My younger self wouldn't have kept these drawings if not, and my older self can see it on the paper, in every line, every stroke, every tiny grain of pencil dust.

What made me think that this wasn't worth pursuing, not worth trying again until many years later? What discouraged me? I don't remember an exact moment or anything; the only thing I know for sure is that I knew and believed - and know and believe to this day, to be honest - that there's a lack of innate ability on my part and that others my age are so far ahead and were back then as well. Hell, I've been behind since I failed to color within the lines in kindergarten.

It feels and felt like a fool's errand to deal with my clumsy hands and messed up back for hours just to end up with something that is... maybe charming in my eyes, but so, so subpar in the grand scheme of things.

I stuck to writing in the end because it was the only thing people said I was good at. And I'm glad I - just this once - had the courage to do so and to keep going and, eventually, push myself into sharing it on the internet too. Through sheer delusion and determination and lots, oh, lots of writing I clawed myself up to a place where I feel just confident enough in my skills to not constantly question myself and happily create.

And therein lies the answer for art as well, doesn't it? "Just keep trying, just put in all those hours and days and months and years of work for it as well, until your hands bleed and your back gives out, eventually you'll get there! Talent is not required either!"

But it's not that simple. I'm not sure I can do this again, muster enough courage and delusion to be terrible for years until I finally start making things that go from subpar to mediocre. And maybe never from mediocre to decent or even good.

When I learned to write, I had other people's claims that I was talented to fall back on and wasn't as hopelessly behind other people. Now motivation is lower and frustration is higher. Learning curves and empty canvases paralyze me; the last time I made art it took me 2 full hours until I could push past it. Not to mention that I'd picked out all references and tutorials and everything a week before.

Where does this leave us? What will I do, you ask? Well. Even if I never beat these demons I can assure you that, every once in a while, the urge will overcome me and I will attempt something. Maybe I'll learn and improve just a little by accident. Maybe I'll even get my ass up and actually learn sometime.

I am technically currently doing an art event somewhere else, so at the very least I will be forced to make a few pieces.

And I know myself a bit better these days. That also helps.

I know that, if anything will get me past the demons, it's obsession, the need to illustrate my own fics and, most importantly, porn.

[axemetaphor]

not to bipolarpost on the art blog but

it is really interesting to me how for as much as I Feel very artistically motivated when hypomanic I find it incredibly difficult to Execute anything that's in my head, digitally at least. I have all these ideas and the moment I go to pin them down they're too weaselly and loose, like trying to get a good grip on some jello. I can do traditional art no problem but digital stuff, not so much, which is why my last 2 posts have just been doodles, this is fine by me im not pressuring myself I just find it interesting. I've always had an easier time sitting down to make art when depressed which sounds great on paper but it's because I just do nothing else. not eating nor sleeping barely using the bathroom and such etc. since going on lamictal I've had a lot less of a struggle with depression which is fandamntastic but it's a little sad, sometimes, to think of how much art I "lose" by being healthy. arguably you can't lose what doesn't exist but y'know what I mean, right? but maybe if I can get the hypomania wrangled, I can channel it into making more art, more illustrations i mean. I think the animatic I did was thanks to hypomania, so clearly I can do these loose sketches no problem, it's just buckling down to do detailed work that becomes impossible, because every 10 or so minutes I Need to go be doing something elee—usually pacing aimlessly, though sometimes i get sucked into social media or just abruptly derealize. I've tried a lot of different tactics and workarounds and they've just slowly lost effectiveness so after my top surgery in July my psych wants to put me on benzos for it. maybe that'll help?¿ I'm hoping so. since my dx isn't "official" (in order to avoid the lovely Florida ableism machine that is our healthcare system) I can't get on antipsychotics or anything for it, so if that doesn't work, it forces my hand. besides that, really, I won't be able to afford medications once I get booted off my insurance at 26, so I suppose I should probably start working more on wrangling things without meds.... and I'm hoping art can help with that but I may be making more personal art about it perhaps .... I'll be reblogging it here probably. alright I'm going the fuck to bed now it's past 1am

[duskwoodgirl4life]

A/N here is my Christmas oneshot I've been learning to take my time when it comes to writing. Hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I have loved writing it.

I wasn't going to put up decorations this year but Jessy and Lilly convinced me to put them up. They came round to help me get everything looking christmasy but it's not a happy Christmas not for me it isn't. Things just aren't the same without Jake; he's been gone now for almost 4 months. In that time he's contacted me maybe 10 times and that's when he's been able to. I miss him so much his stupid job took him away from me. Why did he have to take up a job with the FBI? Sure it wasn't too bad in the beginning but now that he's been gone this long with barely any contact. My heart feels like it's breaking. I keep thinking he's going to walk through the front door any moment. 

Every time my phone rings or a message comes through my heart feels like it's skipping a million beats. I think I have started to get used to the disappointment of it not being Jake. When I spoke to him he kept telling me this is his last job working away and that he will be back in duskwood. Duskwood police offered him a job after he gets back from where he is. He wasn't even allowed to tell me where he was going. I hate the FBI and I hate Jake for leaving me this long. 

I don't even want to put up these stupid decorations, I just want to rip them all down and throw them away. Right now I feel so bitter and angry my heart feels like it's broken and can't be put back together. I try my hardest to put on a brave face around the others. I really can't handle Dan telling me he told me so because if I hear him say it I might just punch him. I do my best to snap out of my mood and pretend I am happy as far as the others are concerned nothing is wrong. 

I feel like I am full of so much hate after everything that's happened, this was going to be our first Christmas together as a couple he promised he would be here. Instead I have to wake up in an empty bed on Christmas day. He should be there next to me. I'm so lost in my own thoughts I don't see Jessy standing next to me. I feel her hand on my shoulder. I could never hide anything from her. She always knows when something is wrong. 

I turn to look at her and I can see that she knows something is wrong, “it’s okay to be angry and upset, I know how much you miss him” Jessy always knows how I'm feeling without having to say it. “This is not how it's supposed to be, he's supposed to be here helping put up decorations and drinking hot chocolate with marshmallows” Jessy smiles warmly at me and pulls me in for a tight hug. “I know one thing this Christmas you are not going to be alone, you have me and the others. We will make it as special as possible” 

Jessy is starting to make me feel a little better and I want to be able to at least have a good Christmas this year. “You know what your right Jessy, I want to be able to have a good Christmas. Why don't we play doodle friends? but this time we draw on the white board from Jake's office” Jessy smiles and runs off into Jake's office to get his white board. I pour myself a glass of wine and wait for Jessy to get back. Everyone gathered around Dan insisted on going first; he likes to think he's some sort of picasso. 

“Right silence genius at work” I couldn't help but laugh at Dan's comment he starts to draw hoping that it's going to be better than the cigar/skull he drew last time. He starts drawing a face, adding way too much detail, finally he adds a pair of earrings. Everyone is shouting out guesses and getting it all wrong. I suddenly realized what it is that Dan's going on about. “I've got it, it's earrings” everyone is shouting at Dan for his stupid drawing of course he's arguing back. 

We carry on playing for a few more hours then everyone leaves “are you sure you don't want me to stay over MC?” I smile and hug Jessy. Her heart is in the right place. “It's okay Jessy I'll be fine, I will be seeing you all tomorrow anyway at Cleos” right now I just want to have time for myself and Jessy understands that. “Okay MC if you change your mind just text me and I'll be right over” I hug Jessy once more before saying goodbye. “I will Jessy, see you all tomorrow morning” 

Everyone has left. It's so quiet without them all here. The silence just fills the room, I keep myself busy and tidy up and put all the rubbish in the bin. Once I've finished I sit down on the sofa with a glass of whisky and I put the TV on for some background noise. 

The next morning I wake up another day alone without Jake, I drag myself out of bed and go shower. A big part of me wants to go back to bed and not leave the house but I'm not going to do that. After showering and getting myself into something that isn't an oversized hoodie and sweats I put on a new dress I bought for Christmas. This was the dress I was going to surprise Jake with but that is going to have to wait. 

Once I've got ready I grab my jacket and keys and head out to Cleos, she's been working so hard on this Christmas dinner. After parking up outside Cleo's I knock on the door and get greeted by a very happy Cleo. “MC!! It's so good to see you, you look amazing in that dress come in” I walk into Cleo's apartment and everything looks amazing. Everyone is already here Dan and Thomas are arguing over what Christmas music to put on. Richy is helping Jessy set the table and Lilly and Jessy are in the kitchen helping Cleo cook dinner. 

After dinner we sit around the fire and play games. Everyone is having such an amazing time. For the first in what feels like a lifetime ago I am laughing. It's like I've just put all my problems and worries to one side. “Does anyone want another drink?” Everyone puts their hand up. “I'll give you a hand MC” Jessy and I are in the kitchen making the drinks. I look up out of the window and it's started to snow. It's coming down thick and fast covering the grown in a white blanket of snow. 

I sit back down with the others and there is a knock at the door, “I'll get it in already up” Jessy gots to open the door she seemed way too eager to go out a shack the thought away. I hear Jessy open the door but I can't make out who she's talking to. 

“Hi, she's in the living room with the others. She's gonna be so happy to see you” I hear someone call out my name and I just freeze. I feel like my heart has stopped beating. I turn around and my eyes go wide and my mouth drops open. “Merry Christmas MC I've missed you so much” at this point tears start to fall from my eyes I pull myself up and run into Jake's arms. “Omg Jake!! I've missed you so much, I can't believe you are really here. How did you know where I was?” Jake's ocean blue eyes are looking back at me and I see that beautiful smile spread across his face. “Jessy told me, I text her yesterday and ask where you would be I wanted to surprise you” 

More tears just fall from my eyes. I am so lost for words I just put my arms around Jake and hold onto him. He pulls me away slightly and smiles. He lifts my chin up with his fingers and kisses me softly on the lips. I feel myself just melt into his body as he kisses me. It feels like our first kiss all over again. Everything I have ever wanted is right here in front of me kissing me on the lips. I feel like all my sadness and worries have just been washed away; it's like they don't even exist anymore. The love I have for Jake is so strong I feel like my heart is complete. 

“MC I want you to know that I am never being away from you again, my work with the FBI has now come to an end.” Just when I thought the smile on my face couldn't get any bigger I'm smiling so much that my face is starting to ache but I don't care I'm so happy. “Just hearing you say that Jake makes me so happy” everything that has felt like it has been missing in my life is now complete. I am the happiest I have ever been. “There is one more thing MC, it's something I've been waiting to ask you” my mind starts to run away with itself trying to figure out what Jake is on about. “MC, will you marry me?” I watch as Jake gets down on one knee, holding a small ring box in his hand. “Yes Jake, yes I will marry you” Jake slides the ring onto my finger and we both share a kiss. 

What started out as what was going to be an awful Christmas has now turned out to be the best day of my life. I am with the man of my dreams and I have my closest friends right by my side. 

[everybodyknows-everybodydies]

putting myself in bed but thinking still (good things!!)

I'd wanted to do some big retrospective thing for myself for the surgery anniversary but the truth it all boils down to is I'm just happy. 2023 had its moments, obviously, but it was the best year I've had in a while because I feel like I'm actually alive again. I can remember a decent chronology for the last year because 80% of my brainpower wasn't dedicated to the fact that I was in pain, whereas 2021-2022 especially I have very little real memory of. (reading some of the posts I made during that time has me like "haha true! ...I said that?") it's been a full year now since I last had chronic illness-specific pain and that's wild to me!! I can DO things again!!

when I was cleaning my files and getting old art transferred to the external hard drive the sheer canyon between 2022 and 2023 was just - I had completed ~33 pieces in 2022. "pieces" sounds generous; most of them were small doodles and disproportionately effortful for it. and then: WELL over a hundred in 2023. nature is healing! (I am healing!)

just. I'm so happy!! I love being alive!!

[james-is-here]

I made myself sad thinking about it so I’m bringing you along for the ride. Also, where I live, is storm like crazy, thunder was so loud it set off a car alarm.

[This was my 100th post, wooo!! 🥳]

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Seeing all the boys with they’re counterparts made Kai happy, seeing them smile and play with them and laugh, It was sweet, really.

It also stung a little…

He had joined before the Five Star trailer was released, having been a mystery face throughout the trailer and sparking a lot of curiosity amongst the fans and tons of support was given to the mystery member, who was Choi KaiSeok.

Fans loved him in the comeback, they thought it was cool to have another deep voice join Felix’s and people love his visuals as well.

Kai loved being with the others, having got to know them and be around them way before Five Star started. It just stung a bit watching them have fun with the counterpart mascots.

He smiled weakly at all of them before walking backwards and off stage. The staff in the back were going to question him when he held up a hand and shook his head as he walked away to find a chair.

A few minutes later, Chan noticed that he was down one kid. Looking around, as they pass by, he asks the others if they’ve seen Kai which all have said no, not since the characters came out.

Chan sighs when he realizes why the male wasn’t on stage and feels bad. He continues on stage, not wanting to confuse the fans by suddenly leaving but he was tempted a few times, wanting to check on him.

When the characters leave, Kai walks back out shyly, his head hanging as he composed himself before looking up, making immediate eye contact with Chan who stood in front of him.

“You okay?” He asks gently, Kai can see it in his eyes that he knew why he left and gave a small smile. “I am, I promise.”

Chan pat his shoulder and the two walked over to the others, enjoying the rest of the night with fans.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

On the ride home, Kai curled into himself in the vehicle, a small sketch pad on his lap with a dim book light clipped to it.

He started with sketching random things. Graffiti of his members names, different styles of stars, small doodles, then he started sketching the skzoo characters in his cartoon-like style with sharp edges and cute eyes before starting to sketch them in a chibi style.

Flipping the page, he starts drawing them as they are made, zoning out to his music and just doodling before he’s brought back to reality by a bump in the road and his gripping his pad while collecting himself at the sudden jump then looking back down to see he drew nine animals.

He doodled them all huddled together with smiles on their faces, Quokka on WolfChan’s back and Bbokari sitting in front of Jiniret who has his paws resting on the chicks head are drawn in the center with the others on either side of them. Drawn standing slightly off to the side was another character, a duck, it’s head tilted in a cute manner as he waves with his legs together and other paw behind his back.

Kai stared at the other character for a moment before his hand moved and he wrote “DucKai” under it with a star and a heart. He stared at the drawing for a moment, it’s WolfChan like eyes, BbokAri face and a small Jiniret like smile on his beak suddenly have tears build up in Kai’s eyes before he blinks them away with a deep breath while putting his sketchbook away after ripping the page out, missing how a tear fell onto the page.

Exiting the car, he slowly followed behind the others, stopping when the members he’s staying with stopped to open the door before they walked in. He was like Hyunjin, the both of them having to deal with gym-racha, but at least Hyunjin wasn’t alone with gym-racha anymore.

Kai slept on a small air mattress in Hyunjin’s room but he always ends up in Hyunjin’s bed by morning. They made art together, at one point Hyunjin painted a small picture then came back to see it was inked with cute doodles following the paint strokes.

Kai walked into the room, throwing the balled up doodle near the trash can before deciding which bed to flop onto, choosing the dancers bed anyway.

Hyunjin had kicked the ball of paper when he returned, picking it up and un-crumpling it, it wasn’t the paper he used so he was curious, soon turning to shock when he looks over the drawing. He glances at the male dozing on his bed before walking out to find Chan, who was in the kitchen.

“Look what I found.” He says quietly as Chan turned to him and took the paper. “Aw…this is cute but…why is it all crumpled?” “I found it balled up, I think this is Kai’s.”

“DucKai…It looks so cute….” He whispers. “I wonder why he balled it up…” He questioned before giving it back to Hyunjin. “Did you know he left stage today?” “No, why?” The younger asked in concern. “Our skzoo were on stage…he doesn’t have one…” “W-We could get him one. He has a sketch of what he wants.”

After much conversation the next day, they agreed that they should help Kai have his own Skzoo character. They decided to take it up with their manager, the designer of the other skzoo’s and the people who created the plushies to create a new character based on Kai's sketch. The boys knew it wouldn't be an easy task, but they were determined.

In the meantime, they had to keep this a secret from Kai. They didn't want to get his hopes up in case things didn't work out. Kai was oblivious to all this, he just assumed that the others were busier than usual.

Finally, after several weeks of effort, they had the first prototype of the DucKai Skzoo character in their hands. It was perfect, exactly like Kai's sketch. The boys were overjoyed. They couldn't wait to show it to Kai.

They decided to surprise him during a group live. They all sat on a couch, reading comments and having fun. Kai fiddles with the Quokka in his hands, softly flicking his paws back and forth, his stupor being broken when someone read a comment. “Oh my gosh, they’re all holding a plushie!! Where did the other one come from?” Kai looked up at Felix who read the comment then looked around.

All of them were holding different plushies, one person should be left out but he was surprised to see that all of them actually had a plush. He looked at all of them, He had Quokka, Han had Leebit, Minho had Bbokari, Felix had Jiniret, Hyunjin had PuppyM, Seungmin had FoxI.Ny, I.N had Dweakki, and Changbin had WolfChan.

Looking to Chan he saw a new plushie, a duck, the same as his sketch. Kai’s mouth fell open as he moved his eyes to Chan’s, the older male smiling at Kai and handing it to him, taking the Quokka from him.

Kai was stunned. He couldn't believe his eyes. His own Skzoo character that he had doodled was now a reality. He looked at the other boys, their faces beaming with happiness and pride. They had done this for him. He was overwhelmed. He didn't know what to say. He just smiled at the boys, his eyes welling up with tears as he hid his face from the camera that was still live.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "Thank you so much."

The boys smiled at each other. They had done it. They had made Kai's dream come true. And seeing the happiness on Kai's face, they knew that all their hard work had been worth it.

And thus, DucKai joined the Skzoo family, a testament to the boys' friendship and their love for Kai. From then on, Kai was never alone with the Skzoo family. And every time he looked at his Skzoo character, he was reminded of the boys' gesture and how much they cared for him and how much they loved him in the family. It was a moment that Kai would cherish forever.

Fans also fell in love with DucKai, happy to finally get merch for Kai and excited that the boys added Kai to the Skzoo family. Fans are more then excited to see what DucKai and the other Skzoo’s have for the future along with their human counterparts.

[polyamorouspunk]

Happy Friday!!

I have so many projects going on man I'm going crazy lol. I think some of the projects need put on hold until I save up for a decent sewing machine though.

But I've got my garden going again, and my coworkers gave me a deadline to write a childrens book based on doodles, and Im working on my zine that for some reason I can only open in chrome(???), and I wanna do a little research with my punk 101 posts, and also I need to do research that Im not really in the mood for so I can make that music map.

Oh and also I'm going to see Radium Girls (a play) tomorrow with a friend, and I'm debating if I'm going back to my college sunday for my friends graduation, but I dont really want to cause its gonna be raining. And also also, Some (different) co-workers wanna play dnd with me, but I dont think I'd like playing with them just from knowing them for a few months but I dont know how to be like 'no', but also Im on a HUGE dnd kick (I got new converse I need to show off btw) but have no one to play with and that makes me sad, but I dont want to play with people who will make it not fun for me :(

But how are you? How was your week? Any fun plans??? (side note: do you like dnd, just out of curiousity?)

I ain’t making people scroll though this

My week has been… better. Better than last week. Monday I took a day trip to Virginia Beach by myself to kind of clear my head and my soul, purge some of that pain and negative energy. Last night when you sent this though it kind of just… came back… which is why I didn’t answer this then.

Tomorrow I’m going out with my family to some botanical garden that only opens like 4 times a year or something to the public. We’re bringing lunch with us so I guess we’ll be eating together somewhere, maybe at the gardens.

I’m counting down the days until I fly back to CT to go see Electric Callboy with my friends, and then hopefully go to the aquarium with my gf + friends. Other than that I don’t have any plans for that trip. I still have to tell my brother + my other friend when I’ll be up, I just feel like any spare moment I have I use to recover some psychological HP.

I’m going from working 30+ hours a week to only 3 days a week soon because we’re getting self checkout on Monday. Hopefully I can use that time to work on some things for @prideful-things-shop, mainly the snowglobe tumblers (don’t worry, you’re getting one of the Eeveelution ones).

I’m still waiting to hear back if we can go to that concert and trying to book my tattoo appointment for that Friday.

I LOVE Radium Girls, I read the book, it’s one of my favorite books. I know they turned it into a play and a movie, but I haven’t seen either of them. I actually grew up near one of the locations in the book. They put a mall right next to it, so that’s where I used to go to the mall. I’ve never been to the clock factory, but it’s a museum now. Maybe I can add that to the list of things to do when I go back home. It’s also right across the highway from one of those defunct Jesus theme parks. I’ve wanted to visit that too.

I’ve never played DnD, but my friends made a game that’s similar and I was part of the pilot test group for that, and apparently they’re still playing all these years later. It’s been almost a decade.

My mom wants to make raised beds but we haven’t gotten that far yet. She wants a saw, just hasn’t been able to spare the money for it yet. I’ve offered to get it for her but she declined. We were looking at them while I was looking for the drill I bought for the tumblers. She has a lot of potted plants though lining the porch, including some herbs, and I think she’s planning on some carrots and cherry tomatoes.

I’ve been studying the sub-genres of metal music for a while, basically so that I can ID a song/band by it’s genre and guide people towards recommendations based on what they already listen to (country, pop, rap, etc.). The idea of making a music map sounds really exciting, I would love to do some research for something like that (like I said, I’m already using spare time to do that on my own anyway).

I’m really hoping once I have more free time I can also go back to working on my patch pants. My grandma bought us a sewing machine from the thrift store she works at, and she taught my mom how to use it, and my mom has used it to make pillow cases for outside pillows, but she didn’t buy outdoor fabric and they faded quickly. This year I paid for some outdoor fabric we picked out together along with some more fabric for my patches, so I’m turning our front porch into a fruit-themed area, which my mom isn’t really thrilled about but I’m the one paying for everything, so…

The other day there was a big snake on the front porch and my mom had to kill it. It was a pretty rough experience for both of us. We have a cat that lives on our front porch which is who found it, and then our neighbor has a cat who lives on her front porch, and we’ve had snakes get in the house before, and now we have indoor cats, so it’s just a risk we can’t take. It made me reflect a lot about city vs country life and a lot of things tied to that (poverty, race, queerness, etc.).

Here’s to hoping we can both have a relaxing but productive summer, and I’ll see you soon xoxo

[betasuppe]

A little tip I've been telling myself when I've been having hard. When I've been trying to doodle or just do anything.

I remind myself I'm alone right now and nobody is around to see what I'm doing so there's no pressure from anyone to be perfect or do things "the proper/right way" there's no expectations there's no way of failure.

Because it's just you and your thoughts. Maybe your hands aren't working to do what you want them to right now, or maybe the world just weighs too much onto your shoulders at the moment.

But in this moment where you're alone in bed or sitting on the couch or whatever you may be doing, nobody is there to pressure you. It's just you now. You've got this and it doesn't need to be perfect. You don't need to be perfect.

It doesn't even have to be good. Maybe it's just what you can do now. And that's okay too. You're doing great.

Please don't forget.

Thank you, anon, I appreciate your support & also the thought you put into this message. Seriously, you have no idea how much I needed such a kind word today♡

I'll definitely keep this in mind whenever I next get some free time to draw, if I do any time soon lol

[mateusboga]

Characterization Exercise for T&Z

THIAN:

I wake up with a rumble in my stomach. I lift my arm to try and reach my RCD, but I barely have the strength to do that. “Kalipso, what time is it?” My vox assistant responds, in a synthetically sweet voice: “Good evening, Thian. It is 16:49.” I groan, rolling around in my sheets. I overslept again. I feel like if somebody stabbed me right now I wouldn’t protest. Maybe I would even thank them. But I have nobody to give me that coup de grace I desperately need. Minutes pass, or hours, I don’t know anymore. I eventually get up and go to the bathroom. I turn on my chamber and my computer, the usual ritual, and it would take little to call it satanic all things considered. Oh yes, the rumble in my stomach. I forgot to eat. Again. I put on some less disgusting clothes and get out of my apartment to go get some “fresh” GulgSok. Usual blend. I drink the green liquid. The chemically enhanced flavor is barely noticeable to me anymore, just tastes like tap water with gasoline and sugar. It does make my eyes open up a little more though. That’s what I pay them for. I go back home and check my inbox. 15 unread messages from work. Ugh, bosses really must be a different species of human, that do not understand the concept of a “holiday” and need homo sapien interns to feed them pre-masticated worms and wipe their ass. I blast some of those funky emowave riffs that are the only thing keeping me alive at this point. My neighbors should thank me for my new sound-proof walls. I find myself doodling some stupid toons on a blank piece of paper to get me through the awful workload. I hate this fucking job so much, but what can I do? They pay me for my medication, my bills, my chamber, etc. I even have a free VIP helipod travel card for like a million places, but I don’t want to leave the comfort of my room, so that’s useless. I hated living with other people, so having a new apartment where I can be all alone is refreshing in a way. I can thank them for that. But at what cost? What am I even doing with my life? My parents say they’re proud of me, but why do I feel so empty inside? I’m doing alone in a week what a team of 50 people couldn’t do in a year, yet I feel stupid and useless. I look at the awards on my shelf. Dust has settled over them. They’re just pieces of metal anyways. I try to shove away the bad thoughts, I feel that black cloud suffocating me again. I drink the rest of the GulgSok, along with my meds. It helps. I begin the process of entering into my workflow, and once I’m in it, nobody can get me out. The monotony of daily life has a certain bittersweet feeling. I hate it, but I hate it a lot less than the hellish pit inside my mind. May the neo-industrial megalodon wash those thoughts away.

ZARVIN:

I wake up to the rays of sun shining through the polarized glass. I jump out of bed, put on my favorite blouse, pants, kickers, clean my teeth, style my hair, and I’m off to one more trip to the station. In my bag there’s everything I need: my music player, my earphones and my notepad. Instinctively, I grab my RCD, and I stop for a moment. I haven’t used this thing in so long, it’s probably full of unread notifications, a distant relative sharing a holo of their cat dressed as a cowboy, or scam crypto ads. Will it be today that I break my vow and turn it on? No. Not today. I throw it aside, put on my earphones, and step out into the real world. I inhale a bit of the gasses in the air and I feel a convulsion. The pollution is really bad today. Still, I press on. The things this world throws at me don’t phase me anymore. I’ve gotten accustomed to the smell of nitrogen. To the distant, demonic roar of the city. To the sleepless, anxious, or grim faces I see on the street. To the angry yelling of passengers in traffic, and the fights in the bus stop. I have found my way through the monotony of the city, and found my little corners, where some rare quiet beauty still survives. I look at the time and I see I’m early again, so I stop for a few minutes, sitting on some degrading fibrocarbon box, appreciating the old architecture and the plants in a stray garden, yellow from the fumes, but still alive, and for a moment I forget everything. I lose myself in the tiny breeze that gently caresses the leaves, a sweet kiss of courage, inspiring it to not give up, and keep fighting despite it all. Then, a buzzing brings me back to my senses. I look at the bus stop, and I see my railbus departing! Guess I have to wait for the next one. I couldn’t care, though, because I saw an old friend, Martin, sitting on the bench. We talk for a bit, about the new Finglecunk album, then my bus arrives and I have to end it short. The trip to the station is quicker than usual. Perhaps the fumes kept most people at home today. Or maybe it’s some religious holiday I don’t know about. Regardless, I arrive 2 minutes late to work, and I quickly swipe my HoliDeck card and enter the pad. My helipod is waiting for me, with a fresh paint of glittery violet and tan undertones hiding the fact this model is almost 20 years old. I don’t want a new one though. This one works flawlessly, even if it’s a little chunkier than most. Nowadays it’s all AI-assisted and digital. I don’t wish to give the reins of my life to ones-and-zeroes. Luckily, my boss is very patient with me, and she got me a special deal where I get to keep this one but have to pay for the expenses. I enter the cockpit and begin heating the motors. I feel lucky that I have this job, where I get to drive across the skyline for hours, sometimes passing over a surviving patch of bornean forest to go deliver mail to some old lady on the 193rd floor in another city. People make fun of me for liking Gen Alpha, but I don’t get the joke. They have so many stories of the past they can tell us about. Sure, you can read about the Texan-American War on the holodocs or join a simulation of The Tronsborgle Crash in a chamber, but to talk to somebody who was actually alive when these things happened, has memories of the event, and was affected by it directly, is just… different. I can’t explain it well. Even if I could, I feel people wouldn’t listen to me anyways…

[kvetchaeg]

Detective _____ and the Search for Ennis

The other day, I came home from work and realized I did not know where I was.

I wasn’t lost. I had made it home as normal. I knew the street and the unit number, recognized all the furniture, all art on the walls. I knew the dishes stacked up by the sink and heap of mail on the landing pad addressed to me, and to Denis, and to various prior occupants. I knew where I was in the world. What I could not find was me. Where had I gone? This was where I was, so by all accounts I should have been there. And yet, no such luck.

I paced from room to room, opening windows, turning off the AC. I sat at my desk, at the kitchen bar, laid down on the couch, on the bed. I pulled out art supplies, books to read, games to play. I made a list of correspondence that needed tending to, tasks needing completion. I put my hands on every hobby and responsibility in my home.

I could do none of it. Felt none of it.

It was the strangest thing, like I had opened up a compartment in my chest and emptied everything out, so that all that remained was an irregular lightness.

I sat down on the kitchen floor and found I did not even want to cry. So unlike the listless, lethargic numbness of prior depressions. I wasn’t lacking in energy or direction. Had plenty of both, really. It was more like I’d lost my sticking power. I could identify my hobbies, my pleasures, the things that bring my life meaning and fulfillment—and I could do them! I had no trouble getting on my feet and going through motions. But when I reached out and put my hand on them, it was as if nothing was there. Because I was not there.

Where was I? Where was I? What do I do without me?

Banchan, unable to walk on the hard tile of the kitchen, laid at its boundary and meowed for me, and I did not, as customary, meow back at him. I realized that I had no desire even to pick him up, and that frightened me enough that I did nearly cry for a moment. Nearly.

I stood. I resolved to find myself, to fix all this. I took out the big plastic bin in my brain full of all the things I love and popped off the lid, knelt rooting around in the miscellany. I was a detective, vacant and impersonal, but single-minded in my pursuit of this missing person. What did I know about this Ennis? What sort of things could they reliably be found doing?

Playing games, yes. Making art, yes. But these were things I could not do. Play and creativity were places I could not go, kingdoms I did not have entry to. That was a startling thought, too. I do not have memories prior to the point at which I started drawing. My tenure as artist began before memory kicks in, my elders all having stories of little-me with crayon in hand from a time farther back than I can recall. To stand in my home, in my own damn free time, and not know how to tell a story or doodle some happy foolishness was unmooring. Wherever I had gone, I had gone far.

I decided to cook. Denis would be home in an hour or two, and whatever else was true, we would need to eat dinner. It was a practical thing, and though my love for cooking is not as old as my love for games or storytelling, it is nearly as fundamental. A fine place to start looking.

I had no desire to eat (unusual), and therefore source of direction. My stomach-North Star had absconded with the rest of me. No matter, though. I was an expert on these Ennis-things, and thus consulted my record of favorite cuisine (Korean) and favorite genre (baked goods). I inventoried which appliances and niche cookware hadn’t seen use in a while and took stock of what groceries there were to work with. I settled on jjinppang, stuffed with onions, garlic, eggplant, Impossible ground beef. Gochujang and rice syrup, maybe sesame.

I got the dough proofing, felt nothing. Diced the onion and the eggplant, felt nothing. I turned on the radio, nothing. Warm golden light from the falling sun sent the house glowing, the birds and the bugsong throwing in with the soul FM. Nothing.

When Denis arrived home, he cheered about the music and food that filled the air before he even finished setting down his backpack and kicking off his shoes. I felt no pleasure in the loveliness I had created, but took his happiness as a sign I was on the right path. This way. This is the kind of place Ennis likes to go.

He asked me about my day, and because I was not myself, I did not feel my self’s usual urge to feign normalcy. I was honest. I am impracticed with speaking honestly about my emotions. The deeper the sorrow, the less I prefer to say. Let it stay down there, is my thinking. Don’t let it up here, where it’ll kill the atmosphere. If it doesn’t involve or impact them, why poison their day with it? Don’t let it ruin the moment. Let it stay down there. So I was honest, but faltering and ineloquent. He tried to speak sympathetically, to acknowledge and encourage and give advice where he saw space for it, but I could not explain to him the vastness of what I was experiencing, what I was not experiencing. The way I spoke, I must have simply seemed tired; worn down by a long, bad day.

He came to pull me into a hug.

When my partner hugs me, it is supposed to be a rush of joy and relief and safe-feeling. It is the most certain, reliable, foolproof way I know of melting into dopamine. A hug cannot fix a bad day, or cure a broken heart, or heal a wound. It is not a catholicon, but it is a reprieve always. A small, sacred moment of feathery confidence, unbound from the world and its woes, like floater airtime.

I felt his arms go around me, pull me into his warmth.

This was the loss that sent me, finally, into tears. If this did not feel like happiness, then I had gone very far away, indeed.

And what if I never came back? What if this was what it was to be, forever? Where would I go? What would I do? How would I pass the long hours? Who would want my unfeeling company, unenthused and uninterested? Whose company would I want, if not Denis’s?

I whimpered and shook pitifully in his arms, feeling something at last but reclaiming no relief in the sensation of sensation. The only feeling I could hold inside of me was the dim, grim mantle of shame falling over my back, like a shawl slid between his skin and mine; a dividing and distancing that folded over me where ardor ought to have. Shame, for how little his touch moved me.

When the buns were finished steaming, we sat down in silence and I forced myself to eat. It tasted good, and at that dim and simple acknowledgment, somewhere deep and far away, I sensed a faint twinkle of happiness flicker on in the empty dark sky. Not near enough to feel, but near enough to know that it was still out there. I felt passive and disinterested, but I marked the pride duly, taking it as good sign, and boxed up my leftovers.

Unable to feign enthusiasm for any further any-thing, we retreated to bed. I pulled Denis toward me. I did not long for his touch any more than I had standing in the kitchen, but I was cognizant of the fact that his hands on my body, like eating, is good for me.

In the morning, I woke up in bed and realized I did not know where I was. This was no longer a surprise, though.

I rose, drank coffee, kissed Denis goodbye as he set off to go kayaking with his mom (“Are you sure you don’t want to come? There will be a waterfall.” “Yes, yes, I’m sure”). I hoisted the last of the bags into his arms, bade him text me when he got there, then turned to face down my crime scene.

I spent the day hunting: I studied a little. I drew a bit. I made sweets for a party I had no desire to attend. I tidied some, pet my cats when they passed near. I wrote this. Now there is quinoa simmering, broccoli and veggie sausage crisping in the cast-iron. Denis is home. We will eat food, sit together, and play a game.

I still don’t feel any pleasure or interest, but I realize now that neither do I feel any fear. I had been so focused on the missing good, I had failed to notice the missing bad. There’s no looming dread, no guilt of things not-done. No stress. No anxiety. No melancholy. It seems when I left that I took all the bad with the good, and I suppose there is something enjoyable about the peace that I feel. It is a vacant, empty sort of peace, something I doubt could be healthy—but it is peace nonetheless.

Maybe that’s all this is. Maybe I haven’t gone anywhere after all. Maybe the crazing vase just finally fractured, bottom bottomed-out and all the everything it had hardly held within simply, woosh. It could it hold no more. All the death, all the sorrow, all the failure and fear and frustration—let it all fall away and let the flowers out fall with it. Maybe it just needed to break and be empty a while; feel the unburdened thinness of what it is to be hollow. Maybe this is just the heart’s way of saying, too much. That’s too much. I can’t hold all of that. I am just one little vase.

I am happy, now, to say that this emptiness has passed. I came back to myself somewhere in the third day, slow but steady. Some passing amusement in a game; the pleasure of a purring cat; honey-lavender tea; his hand on my back, making slow circles. Slow but steady, slow but steady.

I am holding my little vase carefully now, wary of what all must go in. Little earthenware-heart, you have so much heat to bear! So much sorrow to stew, fear steaming off in thick coils. It is unavoidable. It is life, the burning eye, and the mess of your self the meal making. We are all eventual food, all oxidizing, all bound for the earth or the oven. We have no say of the flame, of fate. But we have some say of what manner of meal we make of ourself. What goes in the pot? How much can we make it hold? How much of our own choosing can we add or take out? Slow and steady, slow and steady. Let’s not boil over or break before the feasting hour, before the dinner bell tolls.

[imjustspirit]

I'm feeling pretty melancholy these days.

I'm feeling pretty melancholy these days, and I don’t necessarily believe that’s a bad thing. To me, a melancholy existence is little different from a life of going through the motions. I wake up, spend hours reading stories on my phone until I drag myself out of bed to get dressed and eat some food. In the afternoon I put my shoes on and walk the dog, then sit down at my desk and find something to occupy myself until the early hours of the morning. I don’t think a life where someone just goes through the motions is a bad one. At the very least, it’s better than being at a standstill.

The thing is, I’ll look around my room and see all these small reminders, storyboards poking out my bag, doodles left on top of the printer, a notebook that has been slowly pushed to the end of the desk. Small reminders of a very real weight bearing down on me. A weight building its mass into a wall in front of me, and yet all I can feel when looking at that wall is pity. Maybe it’s pity for the work which I fail to give proper acknowledgment. Maybe it’s a selfish pity for myself, the one who knows they need to change and yet would prefer the simple motions. Or maybe it’s pity for the ones looking in, which I look back at. The ones who I lie to, those who I hide things from, not because I did anything wrong, but because I don’t want them to even consider the rightness of the situation at all.

At times I manage to drag myself out of the motions, to stand up and turn to face the mass which I left alone. Sometimes I will care for it, and sometimes I will open up to others, asking for advice on how to treat the mass. Finally the mass will shrink somewhat. And when it does, I can’t stop myself from turning away again. I stay for long enough to make the claim “I cared, I tried! it shrunk, did it not?”. At the moment I realise I only broke the motions in order to further protect them, in order to stop people from looking closely at the cracks, I can’t stop myself from turning away and falling into this simple melancholy.

My work is done, my existence lengthened for one more day, much like a train placing its own tracks down in front of itself as it careens through the countryside. And yet, through this effort of allowing myself to continue these motions, it feels like I stopped movie an existence ago. My wheels keep turning, my scenery keeps changing, and yet I’m stuck on the bank of a beach, made to watch the ever changing waves. I’m at a standstill. 

Nothing is worse than being at a standstill. Not because you aren’t moving, but because everything else continues too. Irrelevant of what I wish, I must watch everything else continue to change, while my feet feel like they’re stuck in the mud. And yet, despite my lack of movement, I keep changing too. My hair grows longer, my body grows taller, my age ticks on. I wonder, how long have I deluded myself into believing I’m still moving, for how long have I refused to look down at my own feet to confirm that I am putting one in front of the other.

I'm feeling pretty melancholy these days, and I want to start moving. I know that it isn’t too late, I know there is still time, still chances. All I have to do is put one foot forwards and move. Understand myself better, learn what makes me move, and move for that sole reason along. I don’t think a melancholy existence is bad. However, it’s time I move on, I’m old enough now to know how to walk, to know where I wish to walk to. When I become older still, maybe I will fall back into the motions. But I’m sure I’ll be fine then. By then, I hope that those motions are able to truly carry me forwards. And the moment I return to a standstill, I hope that where I stop is of my own choosing.