((hey all this is completely unrelated to this blog but im starting an ask blog because adhd
if you wanna come send some asks, talk to your new buddy, here’s a link:
((hey all this is completely unrelated to this blog but im starting an ask blog because adhd
if you wanna come send some asks, talk to your new buddy, here’s a link:
I love seeing people’s picrew art styles because you can just look at them and be like
“You read homestuck and it was a big part of your life for a few years, you’re not into steven universe but you did watch it, and you had an intense black butler phase in middle school and doodled their eyes over and over again in your spiral notebooks”
Art is the biggest snitch ever man like have you ever read a fanfic and been like “Oh the author is working through some trauma here”
Or when people rec songs/shows/fics and you suddenly know everything you need to know about who they are as a person?
Like I know art is inherently an attempt to make others understand what is going on inside our lonely little heads but sometimes the mortifying ordeal of being known just slips in there while you’re not looking
new ask game: tell me what u think u know about me based on my fics/art/etc
((Eh we’re already breaking character/rules a lot, why not))
((its been a month and ive done nothing here so i thought i’d tell yall that shit happened, shit has happened, im not sharing what because personal, but life decided to kick me in the balls and ive dropped quite a few things for mental health
this hiatus is likely to be,,, pretty long, actually. because, as previously stated, life decided to drop kick me, and now the next months are going to be a bitch. As in, had to drop my job search, struggling to keep up with classes, all because of the thing kinda bitch.
so, like, you might have occasional weeks or something where i sat down and wrote up a queue of a couple days, but theres not going to be anything regular for a good while
anyway, how you all been?))
((Just a heads up, if you see an update go up, that may not mean im fully back. I might do some sporadic updates, just because having something to make and work on is one of my depression fighting tactics, but classes and work and job searching are still higher priorities, so they’d probably quickly shove regular updates away again. But yeah, just wanted to say, since i do dislike leaving this quiet for so long, we might have some sporadic things popping up while regular updates might be a while before coming back, idk yet))
((hi, this pause went on way too long to go without an explanation, basically i’m slipping a little bit on the depression front, and with classes started again, me looking for a new job, and working my temp job, trying to keep this project up to date was one more thing on a pile of things, and it was the lowest priority, so it got shoved to the wayside so i have the energy to do the higher priority shit, yknow?
that said, when i can get to it again, i’m gonna be actually making the outline for this next arc so it’s easier to get into and i know where im going, so it’ll be great))
Aquarius: After a while, Suzie seems to run out of things to do at her stove. She fiddles and fusses with various things around the pot, before ultimately giving up. Her shoulders are tense as she sighs and turns towards you.
You guess it’s time to talk.
((Internet outage, shouldn’t be more than a day hopefully))
Aquarius: “What happened to my shirt?” you ask.
Suzie snorts. “Really? That’s the first question you ask?”
You hunch a little bit, clutching the glass of water closer to your chest. To your scar. Suzie isn’t looking at you, she’s looking through the cabinets for something. She doesn’t see how you react and you don’t say anything.
She continues, “I took it off of you after you collapsed, you were overheating in it.” She takes down a can of something and looks at it as she speaks. “I don’t know why you’d wear a sweater on a day when you could fry eggs off the sidewalk,” she says, somewhat quieter. You don’t think it was directed at you.
You respond to it anyway, “It was a-”
You pause. You were going to say “gift”, but that… isn’t correct? You bought it with your own money. Wevry did help you find it, though, you wouldn’t have bought it without him. He said it looked cute. It had a cat pattern on it, making cat ears over your chest and a little nose on your stomach. It was soft, you liked it.
Suzie has turned to look at you, frowning, so you say, “It was special.”
She opens her mouth like she’s going to say something, then seems to reconsider. She turns back to her can, fiddling with it as she carefully says, “It’s just in the other room, you can have it back in a bit.”
She fidgets with the can for another moment, then sighs and puts it back. You take another sip of water.
Aquarius: Sometime later finds you sitting on Suzie’s couch, rubbing the ragged scar on your chest. It’s directly on the center of your ribs, long and heavily faded, but still a roughly textured shallow dip in your skin. Looking at it starts making you regain the distance you lost, but you want to run away from it and never have to see it again. You swallow, hard, and look across the room, unable to look at it anymore for reasons you can’t explain.
(Your knuckles keep dragging up and down it, feeling the texture, the shape, absentmindedly.)
Suzie is in her kitchen, making… something. You sniffle, and she glances over her shoulder at you, making eye contact for a brief moment before looking away again. Your insides feel like they’re crawling just under your skin, like you should get up and move. You have a headache from crying. You feel wrong, fragile, a stranger in your own body. You swallow.
There’s a new glass of water in front of you, Suzie gave it to you before she started cooking, after you had drained the other one. You pick it up and it’s cold against your hands, and the water is cold against your teeth and tongue when you drink it.
Aquarius: Warm. The first thing you notice is how warm it is. You’ve gone as stiff and still as a board in your shock, stunned into silence. Suzie has pulled you to lean against her, arms around your shoulders and a hand gently petting the back of your head. Your breathing is ragged and uneven.
“Shh, it’s okay,” She says, and you break.
You don’t even try to hold back as you start sobbing in ugly, loud wails. You suddenly cling to her as tight as you can, burying your head in the space between her shoulder and neck, your whole body shaking like rocks in an avalanche.
Everything is so much, and you don’t even know how to begin to handle it. You could barely handle it before, and now everything is so much louder, and you can’t ignore it or quiet it, and there’s a thousand thoughts you don’t know how to handle when you could barely handle a few at a time. You don’t even know how to begin untangling the mess in your brain, or the sudden volume of everything, every sensation, and it’s all so much.
“It’s okay, it’s okay, let it all out,” Suzie babbles, hand stroking the back of your head, and it’s so very warm. “There you go, it’s okay.”
You cry.