#there's dents in my drawing tablet

[ruvviks]

good thing about getting a bunch of new tech stuff at once: everything brand new and shiny and looks good and fun :-)

bad thing about it: EVERYTHING BREAKS AT THE SAME TIME AFTER A FEW YEARS

[dentarthurdent]

what if the hitchhikers game was made by sierra instead of infocom

bonus under cut: That One Death from the actual game, warning for pixel blood

[hobsyllwin]

I can safely say not only has my dinky bamboo tablet survived for 6 years, it has now survived getting absolutely soaked in rootbeer after I knocked over a massive Wendy's cup full of it. Peace and fucking love on the planet earth baby girl is safe

[kapitein-oranghien-29]

Hello dear followers! ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

My tablet's glass has broken, and the frame slightly dented when it fell off my bureau. I've been to the repair store, and it will indeed cost 578 euros to fix the screen of my broken ipad, the one I draw on. Since it's a model from 2017, there's just less out there to fix it. But there's also the fact that it might not work when I do get it fixed. Or that it will die and slow in the coming years by its age, making fixing it an expensive band-aid. So the opinion of the ones around me is that I would be better off buying a new tablet. And as you know, that is a quite expensive ordeal, looking at the prices around 1000 euro (*ﾉヮﾉ)

I just have no choice, and after a few tears and a night of sleep, I decided that I still want to continue doing (digital) art. (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

But with the costs of the tablets, I will be forced to at least wait till my payday to even think of buying one. This means comms will have about a 3 week delay. Rn, I'm trying to hold my tablet together with tape, so at least I won't be cut by the splinters. For the comms that I've already started I will finish them on my tablet to the best of my abilities, but for the ones I've only made a sketch for or yet to start, I will feel more secure if I start them on my new coming tablet.

So, I'll be scraping together some money for the new one, and maybe will do doodles for a buck or something to try and raise a little buffer? If you want to support me, I'd appreciate it so much! But don't feel obliged! I have a savings account I can dip into a little bit. ^^’

You can sun to my patreon and see spicy doodles and past comms! It's a euro per month, and you can cancel whenever too! (˵ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°˵)

patreon.com/KapiteinOranghien

There is nothing posted on there, butt you can drop me a kofi (・ω<)

https://ko-fi.com/kapitein_oranghien

Any help, including just, sending positive thoughts is appreciated, and I take that all to heart. After all, you guys liking my art spurs me on to make more!

🧡 kap

[thephooka]

How we got here from there

Or, the long journey of a longform long-running webcomic about a long man with long wings.

In the spirit of @feathernotes and @phantomarine who have been talking about just starting your webcomic and not worrying about being "ready", I was inspired to do a post about White Noise's origin! I'm a little limited by the fact that I either left behind or destroyed a lot of the art I have from prior to 2009, so you'll have to take my word for it.

Cringe Truth below the cut!

The Cringe Truth of White Noise is that it has its roots in a Pokemon x Yu Yu Hakusho x self-insert(s) roleplay thread I used to do with an internet friend I made on Neopets guild forums way back in 2002-ish. We would come home from school every day and RP over AIM, and then when we had to get offline, whoever left first would email the other one, and we would continue via email until we were back on AIM at the same time.

Liya was my self insert.

This isn't even remotely the earliest art of her, it's just the earliest I have on hand. I was drawing her for almost a decade by the time I drew this one. Imagine the earlier drawings as being like I traced over Sailor Moon characters that I printed out from deviantART and gave them a brown ponytail.

The funny thing is Liya really hasn't changed much from her original form! I also had loose brown curls that I kept in a ponytail 24/7 to the point that it showed when I had it down (which is why her hair is 'dented' like that). I did it because I was trans and didn't know it; she does it because she hasn't realized she can just cut it off and be butch yet.

Other characters that date back from this time period: Yoshi (originally an InuYasha/Rurouni Kenshin pastiche), Hawk (I don't remember when he got wings but they were white at first), Numair (named after the Tamora Pierce character and filling a Koenma kind of role), Helly (sort of--I had an elf character named Kamui who had the same temperament, and he was eventually transmuted into Helly) and...Kurogane.

I've never named Kurogane but he appears in the background of the comic a few times, as my own personal inside joke.

Vlad came along somewhere between this RP period and planning the comic, but I can't remember when or why. I don't have drawings from that time (~2004?) but he was the first character I drew when I got a tablet for the first time.

Everyone else came along later when I started actually planning out the comic.

All this said: the reason I started White Noise as a weekly webcomic is because I wanted to learn to draw better.

At the time I was in college majoring in animation, but I didn't feel like I was learning very much at all (the program was badly structured; I had more art history classes than anything else. It was a mess.) I was also working nights in order to feed myself, and so had a lot of downtime. I had this story rattling around in my head from my RP days, so I figured, why not just give it a go?

For posterity here's a photo of a chapter 1 panel in progress, back in 2011 with my typical college diet in the bg:

(Chapter 1 was originally pencil on paper, scanned in and colored in PS. I later re-drew it to make it fully digital to match with the rest of the comic.)

There's been a lot of talking about not waiting until you're 'ready' to start a webcomic, and I agree with that sentiment. Try framing it like this: making a comic every week for years and years will improve your art way more than any prep work you can do before starting the comic. It's like learning to swim. You can read about swimming all you want, but you're not going to really figure it out until you do it. If your early comics are bad, well, that's normal. It used to be an expected part of doing webcomics; I blame the shift into expecting webcomics to be polished from start to finish partly on commercialization in the space, but that's an angry rant for another time.

With this background, here's the collage I posted for WN's 10 year anniversary back in 2021:

And now we're here.

So do your webcomic. Put it on ComicFury or make a janky little site for it. Be okay with imperfect pages and be prepared to shout into the void for a while. Even if it's always a hobby, if it never makes you a dime or wins you any awards--that's fine! You'll be a lot happier if you learn not to worry about that stuff, and just make something that will help you grow and make you happy. We could do with a lot more work like that in the world imo.

[emry-stars-art]

Thought it was very important to let you know that I got my first drawing tablet today and, after ensuring that it worked, I christened it with stickers from you all over the back

Yeah I might as well make a dent in my inbox this afternoon

INCREDIBLE NEWS AND IM SO HONORED AHH 💕 I will be late to answering all of these asks so I hope the tablet has been treating you well and you're enjoying creating with it 🥳

[levi-venn]

The First Toothpick

Chapter 3: A Fistful of Carrots

Gen Fic - Mentor/Protege

Characters: Cad Bane, Crosshair (the kid), Jango (flashbacks).

Summary: Cad Bane teaches Crosshair how to be a sniper. The kid picks up some other habits as a result.

Chapter Summary: The kid experiences dry land for the first time. His reaction surprises Cad...but it also gives him an idea.

Chapters: Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 |

Available on AO3 here

“It’s just grass.” 

“The hell it is,” Cad said, retreating back up the ramp of the Firespray.

“C’mon, Cad, have a little faith in me. Watch.” Jango hopped out of the ship, landing waist deep in the field of golden brown wheat…

…like a damn fool.

So much wheat…stretching for as far as his scarlet globular eyes could see.

And that much wheat meant that many more places to hide.

“There’s things in there,” Cad warned, pointing to something rustling near Jango’s leg. 

“Just critters. Predators don’t come out until nightfall and they prefer Fabools to humanoids. You’re safe, I promise.”

“Uh huh…” Cad took another step backwards. “...I’ll just stay here.”

It wasn’t that he missed his homeworld - fuck Duro - but at least he knew and accepted it for what it was: A world that had traded its soul for industry long before Cad was born.  Clouds weren’t supposed to be white and fluffy like this. They should be oily and black belched from rusty smokestacks.  Even the sky here was wrong, too blue, too bright, missing the stains of putrid orange and green.  He’d been on this planet for less than a minute and already had his fill of the buzzing insects and…where the hell was that croaking coming from anyway?

“We got work to do, Cad. Don’t make me throw you over my shoulder like a bag of meilooruns.”

Cad sighed and stood on the edge of the ramp, staring down the untamed wilderness of what was supposedly a very tame ranch. The wheat stalks swooned in the breeze, like long fingers coaxing Cad into unseen jaws.

He sank one boot into the grass.

Something shrieked and shot up into the air.

Cad stumbled backwards, drawing one blaster only to have it slip from his fingers, sliding noisily down the ramp and out of sight into the wheat field. He pulled the second blaster and fired at the monster.

The convor flew away, unscathed.

“Aaaand this is why we’re here,” Jango frowned, picking up fumbled blaster and handing it back to Cad. “You’re jumpy as hell and can’t shoot for shit. If you want to keep calling me boss, get your shit together, Cad.”

“Yeah, boss,” Cad mumbled, holstering both blasters, embarrassment warming his face.

“Alright, enough lollygagging. Let’s go check on the Fabools.”

“What the hell is a Fabool?”

Cad found the kid curled up asleep in Bossk’s chair, cheek pressed against the scope of his rifle and a half-eaten protein bar in his hand. 

Beneath the chair was the kid’s duffle bag, half-open. Cad nudged it with his boot. Jumpsuits, protein bars, packs of water purifying tablets. No toys, no music discs, no personality. Not a single candy bar.

Jango loved caramel Starsbars; always kept one on him, in a pouch next to his thermal dets. He also loved fried eggs and bacon, nerf stew with extra carrots, peach-flavored tihaar cocktails (though he always claimed he drank tihaar straight), and he bobbed his head to Figrin D'an And The Modal Nodes when he thought no one was looking. 

Did all his clones experience the same joys he did? Were they even given a chance?

He kicked Bossk’s chair. “Get up, kid. We’re here.”

The kid sat upright, eyes still closed, a long, textured red line from the scope denting his cheek. “Where are we?”

“That’s classified,” Cad smirked.

“Haha, funny,” the kid yawned and slithered out of the chair. He took another bite of the protein bar, then tucked it back into his jumpsuit’s pocket.

I told him to find somethin’ to eat, Cad thought. Does he prefer his own rations?

“This hideout was Jango’s before it was mine. He taught me all I knew here n’ I’m gonna impart some of that know-how onto you.”

“I know how to shoot."

“Yeah, slower than molasses on Vandor,” Cad sneered. “We’re gonna fix that, but for now…” Cad activated the ramp. “...let’s just start with gettin’ out of the ship.”

The kid’s expression didn’t change.

Not when the door slid open.

Not when seeing, probably for the first time, an ocean of golden brown wheat, a clear sky, and a world alive with natural wonders.

Except that wasn’t exactly true. The kid's expression did change, if you knew where to look. Cad watched the kid's glassy brown eyes dart around the narrow view of the scenery, not like a frightened kid like Cad was all those years ago, but with a curious feline studying his new territory.

The kid ventured forward, standing on the edge of the ramp scanning the wheat field.  He didn’t move for a long moment.

Cad stood beside him, studying his face. The kid didn’t look scared, but something was holding him back. 

Finally, he looked up at Cad, brow knitted slightly.

Cad tilted his head. “What?”

“...is it safe?”

“C’mon, Cad, have a little faith in me,”

“Yeah, kid,” Cad said, Jango’s exasperated sigh burned in his memory. “It’s safe.”

As the kid took that first step forward, Cad leaned against the ship and popped a toothpick between his teeth. He expected to be here a while as the kid grew accustomed to the planet. 

But the kid jumped in with two feet. Literally. And then took off like a blaster bolt, running through the fields like a wild lothcat and twice as silent, maneuvered through the grass with practiced efficiency. 

Huh…engineered for stealth…created for war…

The kid chased some unseen varmint for a while before stopping to catch a butterfly in mid-air. As he cupped it in his hands, peeking through the fingers, a frog leapt onto his leg.  The kid gasped, but even that was subdued. He eyed the frog with round, emotional eyes, then lifted his leg to show Cad. 

Created for war…but still just a kid.

The frog disappeared into the kid’s pocket only to leap back out again as soon as the kid’s attention turned to a flock of ducks flying overhead.

“Believe it or not, Cad,” Jango said, arm draped loosely over Cad’s shoulder as they walked through the grass together. “There are some planets in this galaxy that aren’t a kriffing nightmare to live on.”

“Pretty planets can be dangerous too,” Cad mumbled.

“Hey,” Jango stopped in his tracks and made the sulking duros look him in the eye. Human eyes were always too emotional for Cad's liking. Jango's eyes weren't bad to look at though. Still, he scowled stubbornly. “I promised you a quiet place to train you and I meant it. You’re safe here. You’re safe with me.”

As the kid stood transfixed over a grasshopper crawling along his arm, Cad slung the kid’s rifle over his own shoulder, grabbed a few more bags, and exited the ship. He was halfway to the house when he realized the kid was following him, silent as the grave and his arm still extended giving the grasshopper a proper runway.

“Just goin’ to the house. Go play, kid.”

“I’m not playing,” the kid denied. “I’m here to learn.”

Cad sneered. “Like a good little soldier, huh?”

“I’m not just a soldier. I’m an elite-”

“Just be a kriffin’ kid today, okay?”

The kid’s neutral expression melted into something teetering on panic. He looked around again as if searching for something or someone to explain “playing” to him.

Made for war...

“How about this,” Cad sighed. “Do some recon. Get familiar with the territory. The perimeter extends to the barbed wire fence and the border of the lake. Report back when yer done.”

Seemingly satisfied with this “mission” he nodded and bounded off, the grasshopper flying behind him. 

Fuck you, Jango, for givin’ just one special little Boba a childhood and leavin’ the rest behind.

Cad headed to the house and hoped Todo 360 had ordered the extra carrots for the nerf stew.

***

Cad remembered being disappointed when he first arrived at the hideout. 

The word “hideout” made him think of a beaten up shack filled with illegal artillery, chests full of credits, and a bunch of mean-looking mercs he’d be glad to have on his side.

But this hideout was a farmhouse. A quaint home perched on a hill overlooking the wheat fields. Over the front door was a wooden sign with hand carved, flowery aurebesh reading: “The Stars Shine on This Home”. Rocking chairs moved with the cool breeze on the porch. Cheerful tulips welcomed bees in the front garden. Inside the house, there were floral quilts on the plush couches and horseshoes over every doorway. There was a ubiquitous scent of cinnamon and aged wood. 

“Doesn’t look like much of a hideout,” Cad sulked, eyeing the pie cooling on the windowsill. 

“And you don’t look like much of a mercenary,” Jango sneered, pulling out two plates and a pie server. “Looks can be deceiving.”

Three hours later, the kid showed up. Dirt caked his cheeks, burrs stuck to his jumpsuit. There was a scrape on his hand, and a few bugs and a frog peeked out of his pockets.

From the kitchen, Cad slid a heap of carrots into the simmering nerf stew and watched the kid carefully stalk the living room, eyeing everything, but touching nothing. 

Well, almost nothing.

Cad’s wide-brimmed hat hung on the rack near the door.

The kid reached up for it. 

“Take a seat, kid,” Cad said, his tone sharp. “Food’s almost ready.”

The kid snatched his hand back and scurried to the small table in the dining area. He sniffed the daisy bouquet centerpiece and looked shocked to realize it was real.  He put one of the grasshoppers on one of the flowers.  The grasshopper immediately hopped away.

Cad set the bowl of hearty nerf stew in front of the kid and brushed the grasshopper onto the floor. “Eat up. It’s tastier than those shitty protein bars ya got stowed away.”

The kid’s spoon poked experimentally at the stew.

“I like the protein bars,” he said, watching the hearty chunks of nerf bobbing in the sienna broth.

He took a bite of just broth at first, his face remaining neutral, but his brow rose a little lighter.

The second bite was a little more adventurous with a piece of nerf added to it.

The third bite was all carrots…

…and the kid immediately spat them out in his napkin, wrinkling his nose.

Cad nearly snickered.

Under any normal circumstance he would’ve found it funny.

But the disappointment hit his gut like a cheap shot.

It was just carrots.  What would he care if the kid hated carrots and Jango ate them like candy?

Because this ain’t about carrots. If these clones ain’t like Jango, then they got free will, don’t they?

And if they got free will…

…what happens if they decide they don’t wanna be soldiers?

Questions far above his pay grade, but like Jango always said: “The day you stop asking questions is the day They win.”

Is that what you did, Jango? Cad wondered, bringing his own bowl of stew to the table. Did ya just stop askin’ questions?

Halfway through the quiet meal, Cad realized the kid was staring at him.

“Somethin’ on yer mind, kid?” He asked, not looking up.

The kid silently picked another carrot off his spoon and added it to the orange pile on his napkin. 

“I asked ya a question.”

“I didn’t find any Fabool,” the kid murmured.

“Didja know where to look?”

“No.”

Cad raised his brow ridge. “Didja ask where they were?”

The kid shook his head.

“So? Ask me.”

“Where are they?”

“Behind the house. Finish your stew and I’ll show y-”

The kid dropped his spoon, grabbed the bowl and, in record time, gulped down the rest of the stew, chewing the last bits noisily and spitting out a final piece of carrot.

“Ready.” he said, deadpan, though his eyes sparkled as bright as Jango’s whenever Cad handed him a Starsbar.

Need Todo to order more Starsbar, Cad reminded himself. Just in case.

***

Behind the house was a square, quarter acre of land, sectioned off with a two meter high fence covered in thick brown wool. From the outside, it just looked like an extra storage shed, but as Cad and the kid drew nearer, it was evident something was moving around inside the enclosure.  

The kid pressed his face against the fabric barrier trying to see through it without any luck. The Fabools snuffled inquisitively on the other side.

“Whats with the blankets?” 

Huh…first question I didn’t have to pry outta him, Cad mused. 

“Fabools are about as sensitive as they are stupid. In the wild they’re liable to get stuck on thorn bushes n' deflate, makin' 'em easy pickin's for predators. The goal is to keep ‘em safe n’ happy in here so they produce more eggs."

"Eggs?"

"These eggs ain't for eatin'. Not for us anyway. They fetch a pretty price on the black market since the egg whites got hallucinatory properties to 'em.” He unlocked the door but held it closed, his eyes narrowing at the kid. “Walk carefully n’ don’t bring anythin’ sharp in here. You deflate ‘em, I deflate you, got it?”

“Okay,” the kid said, with enough earnestness to ease Cad's mind. "Wait," he added suddenly, pulling out a small vibroblade from his boot, and stuck it in the ground outside the enclosure. "Okay, ready."

“Good kid,” Cad nodded.

The kid immediately looked away, but not before Cad noted the faintest trace of a smile in his cheeks. 

Soon as the gate opened, the kid slipped through it and was immediately overwhelmed, disappearing beneath a bouncing avalanche of furry Fabools.

Fabools were balloon-like creatures in every way imaginable, perfectly round, airy and gentle, and navigated the world through bouncing and floating with vague intent on their destination. Short gray fur covered their bodies, and their two webbed feet may have once been used for swimming eons ago, but that evolutionary branch had long since broken off. Their flippers remained as an imperfect guidance system, and Fabools tended to flap out of sheer excitement than for propulsion.

While they didn't exactly have heads, their face was located flush against the upper hemisphere of their round form, a tiny upturned mouth sandwiched between two, round black eyes which blinked adoringly at the kid.  

The kid sank into the grass in wide-eyed wonderment, opening his arms to gently hug however many Fabools he could while the rest rolled and bounced all around him.

Cad couldn’t be sure, but he thought he heard the kid hiss out a small, brief laugh.

“What the fuck, Jango?” Cad growled, backing up as the creatures bounced closer and closer. “Get ‘em away from me.”

“They’re harmless.”

“Then why’re they chasin’ me?” He climbed up the fence, the little monsters hopping in the air obviously trying to bite him.

“They don’t even have teeth. I promise you, they're not dangerous, just curious. Trust me.”

"Trust me..."

Something clicked in Cad’s mind.

…Well shit. Now I know why Jango asked me to train this kid. Snipin’ isn’t this kid’s problem. Trust is.

Not trust in other people. This kid seemed to have an abundance of blind trust for authority figures…something Cad would train out of him in a heartbeat if he wasn’t getting paid for this job. 

The thing is, the kid had trust for everyone outside of himself. 

That’s why he shoots so slow. That’s why he’s so damn hesitant to speak his mind. He’s got that spark in him, but Jango hired me for one specific reason: I got trust for no one but myself. 

“They’re so…helpless,” The kid said, watching one of the males roll by, webbed feet kicking uselessly in the air. The kid gave him a little push to help him to his feet.

So are you, kid, Cad thought, popping a toothpick in his mouth. But don’t worry. We’re gonna fix that. You may hate me afterwards…

…but either way you’ll be stronger for it, and I’ll get paid either way.

[sodabranch]

Doing this,, drawing,, and I chewed the tablet pen so hard (in pure concentration) there's a dent now You'll see what caused me to almost break my pen once I post it

[1544cimn]

I hadn’t been posting here already, but I was just getting back into my requests from August to keep me from getting depressed and going insane during the last few weeks of my semester.

Unfortunately, I had some film equipment fall out of my bag and onto my iPad (what I primarily draw on).

Besides the big hole in it, thankfully my screen protector has no other damage, but the glass on my iPad is smashed and dented (bonus of having a paper replicating screen protector). The case also conveniently fell open inviting the heavy ass light stand to go to town on it. Lovely.

Taking care of this on top of all the things I already had to do today Lmao. Definitely, probably failing the documentary assignment I have due tomorrow now and probably can’t use this as an excuse.

My school warranty on it is also over too so I have to pay for it, not sure if my parents (mostly my dad, let’s be honest here) will since it’s kinda my fault, but hopefully they actually can since it’s also mostly an act of God moment if you think about it.

But here’s some of the last Platypus doodles I had on it keeping me sane this week.

I have a tablet that connects to my computer so maybe I can still doodle on these procreate projects through psd, but I have premiere running constantly on it.

Paper exists too I guess. So, I think everything’s gonna work out in some way.

[katuend]

Did you know the Nintendo Wii had a drawing tablet? Well I tried drawing on it so you don't have to! I have so many thoughts about it - from the fact it surprisingly has pressure sensitivity, to the fact the pen is so chonky my fingers are dented by holding it

Here's a landscape illustration and a drawing of NiGHTS in uDraw Studio! These were certainly a challenge™

[moosekababs]

ive been drawing all day (shocker) and I PUT A FUCKIGN DENT IN MY FINGER WITH MY TABLET PEN BECAUSE IT'S TRIANGULAR WTFFF

[dylawas-reblogs]

So there are a lot of things I like about my job, and there are a lot of things that I don't. Obviously the main thing is it's part time in an outbound call center and I don't have option to go full-time (not that I would anyway, it's a freaking call center and I'm already going insane on just 30 hours), so that's definitely an issue, but on the inverse, requesting time off doesn't have to be 2 weeks in advance-- It only has to be 2 days. So naturally, Monday, I decided I was going to take today, Thursday, off for a mental health break. Request goes through without issue, everything should be fine and dandy until I survived to Thursday right?

And then of course, my internet service decided last second it was going to do all day maintenance, not Thursday, no, because that would be too cosmically convenient. Nope. They decided to do it Wednesday. And I got no notification, because the text that was sent to me Tuesday never came through. And of course, Tuesday night was the night I decided to splurge on myself and get Olive garden and a personal pie, and Wednesday morning I decided to get a coffee, right before my work shift, and right before I came home, clocked in, then watched as my internet subsequently failed immediately as I was logging in.

Did I mention I'm buying new tires? So yeah, it's not minus $700 like I initially planned for (no work Thursday + cost of tires), but minus $850, and an unexcused work absence on top of that.

So yeah. Another example of the universe watching me decide, for once, it's safe to splurge on myself, I've been good, I've been working hard, I've been saving well, and then going, "but what if we immediately incurred an unexpected cost/ income loss on you. Lol." The frequency at which this happens is uncomfortably consistent. I get a raise, I have to start paying a food bill. I buy some figurines for my collection, I dent my bumper and break my tail light. I graduate college debt/ loan free, I have to pay more than half my income in rent, thus subsequently needing to take on more work hours. My sperm donor goes on vacation in a different hemisphere for a week and a half, and before I can even think about taking a mini vacation myself without him breathing down my neck, my older sibling gets covid, thus quarantining me at home as well due to being exposed to him.

At the very least, I can be thankful I didn't buy the tablet I was thinking of buying for on-the-go digital drawing. Then I would have been down over $1,000. All in just one week-- not even that, over 3-ish days.

That being said, I haven't taken time off for myself in God knows how long, and despite the unfortunate nature of having to call out yesterday, thus, putting a mark on my attendance record that I tried to avoid by getting time off approved Thursday anyway, it's sort of been giving me an opportunity to think, when I've been too busy or exhausted to do so recently. The thinking is only just now starting, but I'm starting to for once actually ponder objectively what I'm doing with my time and energy, and where I want my life to go from here.

Do I really need to stay in this job until I find full-time work? Do I not have enough cushion in savings to take a break despite my sperm donor imposing unnecessary rent that's half my monthly income on me (and me wanting to maintain enough savings that I never have to come back here once I do leave)? Is my constant fear of everything going wrong the moment I don't have a job founded? Is karma real? Is it real enough that I'm going to get into a serious accident the day after I turn in my 2 weeks (because with my luck, I genuinely feel like that's what's going to happen)? Will quitting my job really give me the time and space I need to improve my portfolio? Am I psyching myself up over nothing because my hatred of my father outweighs my common and objective sense? Is my father going to increase rent out of spite like I fear if I quit, because he somehow thinks punishing me is going to encourage me to work harder on finding a job as if my current lack of interviews is somehow my fault (never mind the job economy as a whole is garbage at the moment, and my particular industry is notoriously difficult to get into)? Is any potential spite or punishment from him worth it anyway? Am I the only one holding myself back (outside of financial issues, which generally is 100% traceable back to my father)? Do I keep the job even though it's only 30 hours a week, $15 an hour, and try to move out anyway?

Realistically, because I live in America, none of those above things can really happen before I gain full ownership of my car from him anyway, but with the new tires being put on as we speak, I'm going to be able to have that conversation soon. He's that kind of abuser where timing is everything in conversations. And once that car is officially in my name and not his, maybe everything else will fall into place. I just have to hope he's not going to be weird about it, but of course I know he will be, regardless of how carefully I plan on my wording and timing in approaching him, never mind the fact that I'm paying for everything on it now anyway.

I'm not sure where I'm going with this post. Sort of just following my train of thought on whatever track it goes, probably on account of the coffee. But I definitely need to take some time to just sit around and seriously think about my next steps, because I've just had my wheels spinning in mud for the past 6 months and my damn engine's about to combust. What do I need to do to make my life easier and restore some of my sanity, without putting my safety and future in jeopardy? What steps do I need to take that I haven't thought of in order to completely and safely separate from my father so I can move out without letting him know where I live or who I'm living with? How do I accomplish that without putting my younger sibling at risk since we're so close, and my dad will know that he undoubtedly knows something about my sudden disappearance?

Nothing can ever just be easy, can it? I know others have left undesirable home situations living on less or nothing, but I can't imagine leaving this place without at the very least full time work that offers health insurance. Maybe my standards are too high for myself, maybe I just have some kind of anxiety brain rot that keeps finding excuses for me to not go anywhere or do anything. I want so badly to be rid of him, It's not some brand of familial Stockholm syndrome. It's more along the lines of "if everything isn't perfect in my departure, then it will all go wrong and I'll end up back here anyway, and things will be worse."

Whatever the answer is to anything I've pondered about in this post, I think It's safe to say the current circumstances are killing me, If not physically, then definitely mentally, and emotionally I'm bleeding out.

[milktrician]

inb4 you all learn the 90s au was really just a vessel for me to write about autumn, christine, and ron’s mom

[dentarthurdent]

robit

[potato-lord-but-not]

Random my beloved little emo baby💕

+ her eyes because.. I’m not sure, ig I thought it looked nice lol

[mengyan]

rubs my hands together. marcy facetiming anne and sasha to show them their new room post amphibia. 500+ go

The telltale intro to a popular donghua rings its beginning notes on Anne’s nightstand, and she lunges for the phone with an easy, practiced motion.

“Marbles!” she’s yelling, not even one second after picking up the call. “Hi! How are you doing? Are you settling in? How’s the new room? Is the traffic less intense over there?”

“Anna Banana!” Marcy’s shouting back, giggling. “Slow down! Sash isn’t even on the call yet! I’ll tell you guys everything, I promise, but you gotta relax!”

“You haven’t called in sooo long, Mar-Mar, ‘course I’m not gonna relax!” Anne retorts, sticking out her tongue at the camera. “Plus, you know Sasha likes hearing your ringtone music as much as he pretends not to know where it’s from, so he’s probably just letting it ring. I caught him watching an episode yesterday at lunch and he practically leaped off of the picnic bench to hide the evidence.”

Marcy giggles again and props their phone up on their desk so that their friends will have a better view of their room. “I just called you two last Friday, Annie. And it’s a good show, I don’t know what he’s so afraid of.”

Before Anne can reply, a noise sounds from both of their screens, and the split screen splits once more to fit Sasha into the frame. His face is lightly sweated out from his fencing class, but he’s smiling, making a kissy face at the camera.

“Hey nerds!” he greets, blowing kisses. Both of them blow some back. “Talking about me?”

“Oh yeah, just you and your hidden adoration for the Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation franchise,” Anne teases, watching his face flush red.

“Well,” he sputters, “You’d like it too if you watched! Marce has great recommendations!”

“It’s on my watchlist,” Anne grins. “And they really do.”

“Aw, you guys,” Marcy swoons, placing a hand over their heart. “You’re too sweet to me! If you’re all free next week, what would you say to having a little watch party after our finals?”

“We’d love that,” Anne nods vehemently, and Sasha joins her in agreement.

“Marcy, you got me hooked on this franchise, I’m serious,” he says. “Literally what did they put in these characters? The soundtrack? The plot? The love story between the main leads? Oh my frog.”  

“Right?! I could write essays on— Hey, you guys are distracting me!” Marcy whines. “We’ve got a room tour on the agenda today, remember? You’re the ones who wanted to see it!”

Sasha sits up on his bed, placing his phone on his pillow and clapping his hands in enthusiasm. “Ooh, yeah! Show us, Mar-Mar! Please tell me you kept the duckling plush me and Anne got you for your 10th birthday, Mr. Quack is a childhood cornerstone.”

“He really put a dent in our shared allowances,” Anne snorts. “Totally worth it, though.”

“Who do you guys think I am?” Marcy says, swiveling the camera around so they can see the other side now. Smack in the middle of their green and ivory sheets and assortment of other stuffed animals sits Mr. Quack, far less fluffy than he used to be, but well-loved all the same. “Sometimes I think he takes up more space on this bed than I do.”

“And so the king reigns!” Sasha crows, setting the three of them off into another bout of laughter. “Long live Mr. Quack and his legacy!”

Marcy gasps, then: “Oh my frog, speaking of legacies—”

They turn the camera quickly to the other corner of their room, showing off the somehow perfectly organized mess on their desk, with multicoloured pens and open sketchbooks, as well as a drawing tablet hooked up to their computer. Tucked safely in the corner is a little model of Newtopia, with two statues propped outside.

“No way,” Anne gapes, squinting at the screen to get a better look. “You made mini models of Lady Olivia and General Yunan? They’re so tiny! How?!”

“Mars has the talent for it,” Sasha chimes in, also awestruck by the attention to detail. Everything is carved neatly into the clay, and both statuettes are adorned with matching necklaces, which Marcy had explained to them previously were their version of human wedding rings.

“Yeah,” Marcy smiles shyly, blushing. “I just wanted to honour them, y’know? They were so kind to me in Amphibia, and I didn’t really get to spend as much time with them as I wanted to, so I thought why not dedicate something to them here?”

“They’d love it,” Anne says. “They loved you, Marbles.”

“And so do we,” Sasha adds warmly. Suddenly, his eyes go wide, noticing something else in their room, and Anne shifts her attention to look too. “Hold up, is that your redecorated fandom merchandise shelf?”

Marcy grins, bouncing on their heels in excitement. “Oh, you two have a big storm coming.”