[multi-fandom ▪︎ adult ▪︎ girlboy~they ▪︎ mexican't] "The angels will return... And when you see the one that was sent to help you, your heart will weep with joy."
These sketches aren't polished by any means but who cares, I had fun making them. Also redesigned Candy Pop a little, in my minds eye he is Jinxx from BVB...
Not sure if it's obvious in these peices but, to put it simply, my little person is a zombie (kinda)!
We have them illustrated right after getting fixed up and stitched up, and then we have them during the process. But, I will say, the second one isn't necessarily the most accurate to how I would think that whole ordeal would play out. The drawing makes the scene appear a lot more casual than how I imagine it going. I mean how do you think it would go if you were spontaneously awoken from the grave and could feel EVERYTHING
....then weird clown men started prodding at your remains in attempt to "fix them". Yuck!
Anyways, I'm so sleepy (°○°) so sleepy I may just hate these drawings when I wake up, who knowsss!!!
Reminder that James Sunderland sees sexual demons because the game follows the psychology of The Tibetan Book of the Dead, not because James is a freak rapist or whatever the hell people like to say it means.
Last month I went on this trip with a bunch a people to go go-kart racing (it was cray-cray, I never done it before) and we had a dedicated party room.... with a TV.........
I feel like those people who can get homestuck playing on like,, any device
I will not call myself or other people "gooners" or "npcs" or "larpers". i will not call things i dont like "slop". i will not use terms like "-oids". i dont like how common language is slowly becoming more focused on shorthand terms for hate and apathy
Hii!! This fic is from my AO3 (and a recycled post from my old account, so if this sounds familiar don't fret) that I made a few months back! A part two is in the works but I cannot promise when that would come out .... I am THE procrastinator... But I really do wanna get one out soon!
Here are the deets 》》
~G/N reader
~Established Relationship
~2.3k words
~Internal monolouging to the max
The smell of rain seeped through the cracks of your windows; the old car you were sitting in tended to leak whenever the weather got like this. You were glad it was just the scent at the moment and nothing more. It was already uncomfortably cold outside, and the vehicle lacked a proper heater. Sometimes you'd unplug the car's cigarette lighter and hover it over the palm of your hand, which you knew wouldn't really help with your warmth, but it felt like it could if you did it enough.
You weren't just hanging out in your car for fun, though. You weren't even technically in your car. You were waiting on someone, curled up with your knees to your chest, sitting in the passenger seat. Boredom had almost turned into meditation at this point. The storm distorted the radio signal, interrupting the songs that were mildly holding your interest. Now, a loud humming static played through the speakers. You meant to turn it off; all you had to do was reach over a few inches and click a button, but you didn't. The noise became calming in a strange way. The pitter-patter of raindrops on the metal roof above you, mixed with the wave-like ambience from the radio, overwhelmed your senses enough to the point where it was hard to follow any meaningful thoughts.
It had made you nod off a few times, but only for a couple of seconds before you snapped your head back up, momentarily forgetting your surroundings. You swore the DMV never took this long for your appointments. Why was his dragging on like this?
Impatience had been sporadically flaring up in waves for the past hour as you numbed your mind in the sea of surrounding sounds. You should have been lying in bed wrapped in a blanket, not staring mindlessly at the car parked in front of you at eight in the morning.
James had no trouble waking up when you two did. He had already been getting up this early for work, whether he slept well or not. He had conditioned himself to get up the second the alarm rang. You found it impressive, even if that made you sound pathetic; it was honest.
James had this ability to just suck it up. As simple as that sounds, you wish you could have at least a quarter of that type of determination. In all the years the two of you had been together, that subtle envy never left.
He didn't just apply that sort of work ethic to his job; he applied it to nearly every aspect of his life. Even within your relationship, you saw that perseverance. During rough patches when you could hardly find a reason to wake up in the morning, he would spend his breakfast sitting next to you, not attempting to force you into conversation but talking to you nonetheless, using the little time he had on you. It was incredibly thoughtful.
This man spent so much time making sure you knew you were loved. It wasn't always obvious; it was often little moments just like that one. Small instances where he'd go out of his way to show you that he cared. But, as much as it meant to you, the thought that you were inconveniencing him always crept up, little fears that he took his love on like a chore and not a gift he wanted to give.
That unease would dissipate now and then, though. Whenever you were gone for a long time, be it a work trip or having to help a friend move in the next town over, he made sure that you recognized how much he missed you, that he couldn't bear to have you gone for so long. It was melodramatic, especially since you two hadn't gone more than five days without seeing each other in the last year, but it warmed your heart.
When he got home from the office each evening, the first thing he'd do was call your name, followed by an "I'm home". You could see some of the exhaustion leave his face when he laid his eyes on you. The crease on his forehead, right between his eyebrows, would become almost invisible. His gaze would turn so sweet, like you were somehow his goal. Like everything he did was just so he could see you again.
That feeling never got old. Despite your past discomfort around being loved like that, it never got in the way of receiving his affections. For the first time since you were a very young child, the feeling of being held and so tentatively cared for didn’t disgust you.
But it did feel a little strange. Although you had known him for aslong as you had, the novelty of having a man so eager to take care of you still felt like new territory. You could see it in his eyes, the intensity they held. He was so serious about his love. Out of all the men you had known, he was the first to fully shut down any insecurities you shared with him. Past lovers would shrug, maybe even indulge you a little, but he always made sure you knew that what you worried about was far from the truth.
James could be incredibly stern about that topic. It caught you off guard. Maybe you made a passing comment without thought, something slipping from your lips along the lines of “You would be so much happier if-”. Things within that territory would get on his nerves. You could tell when he spoke that there was a level of reservation in the way he answered, as if he were trying his best to carefully word his response, but the irritation was obvious.
Not the type to make you feel embarrassed to share such thoughts, no, the type that made it seem like it genuinely hurt his feelings. To him, you were insulting his better judgment. Of course he had chosen you. Why would you question that? Did you not trust his ability make those sorts of decisions for himself?
You recalled one conversation not long after you had first moved in with him. It was late at night, and he had been off work for a few hours already; dinner had been made and eaten. You remembered sitting on the sofa, reading over a few letters that came in the mail. It appeared to be exclusively insurance offers, the cheap advertisement kind that would never stop coming. But that assumption came to an end when you reached the last envelope. “Regarding the household of Mary Shepherd-Sunderland”, oh, it was for her. You had seen James call the numbers of a few offices, attempting to explain why they no longer needed to send mail for that individual. It was difficult for him, that was plain to see. James didn’t tear up, and to the average person, it may not look like there was any grief to be found, but you had heard that specific tone of voice enough to know exactly what he was feeling.
Her name was never brought up for the obvious reasons. There wasn’t any point in mentioning her. The exception being this type of situation. You sighed and tossed the stack on the end table. James took note of the expression on your face, “Was it another maintenance bill?” he smiled slightly. You wish. It would be miles easier talking about your shared annoyance over a late payment. But, no, things had to be complicated; why wouldn’t they be?
“No, it’s,” you paused for a moment, considering what would be appropriate to say. There was this hint of disgust you could see from him when her name exited your mouth, as if you had just cursed at him. You knew he couldn’t help that, but it still weighed on you that there was no way you could help him through his pain. It was his battle, one that would only get messier if you attempted to become some saving grace. This wasn’t a problem of his that you were allowed to be a part of. James never explicitly told you that speaking of her wasn't permitted; he wasn’t your authority after all, but the rule was there nonetheless, it was just unspoken.
You realized you never quite finished your sentence. You had just trailed off. “I’ll take a look at it later.” James didn’t pay any mind to it; you both had the habit of losing your place whilst speaking.
“I’m sorry.” You said, your tone a little disjointed in comparison to what had already been spoken. You wanted to apologize now before he saw what was there, as if that would soften the blow. It wouldn't, you knew there was no way to ease the reality of his grief. James had been living with it long before you were a part of his life. What made you think you were going to be the one to magically make it disappear?
You wish you could, which in a way made you feel selfish. Mary was a real woman he loved. No matter how hard you tried to ignore that fact, he had already met his soulmate, gotten married, and settled down long before you; she was real. Their love was real. You knew that at one point in his life, she was his whole world, she was the one he would grow old with, she was his forever and always. That made you feel sick.
It was a feeling not far from jealousy, but there was no way you could call it that. You held nothing against her. As much as you absolutely adored James, a large part of you wished she had never passed in the first place. He wouldn’t have to carry this heavy weight in his heart; he would have gotten his happy ending.
“Am I doing enough for you?” you blurted out. It was the question you had been wanting to ask, but not this blunt. “What do you mean?” He looked at you with curiosity, the query catching him off guard. “I mean, am I.. Do I give you that feeling?” you motioned vaguely with your hands, “You know, like, like when you come home after staying somewhere else. That alleviated feeling?”
He tilted his head slightly, bringing his hand up to his neck, running his fingers through the hair at the base of his head, a gesture he would repeat often when he was thinking. “I’m not sure I really understand your question. I love you. I’d like to think that shows that I’m very comfortable with you. If that’s what you're asking?”
You shook your head. You knew you were confusing him, and it always filled you with guilt whenever you would ask these sorts of questions without thinking. No duh, he loved you. Why were you trying to find some made-up flaw in that? “I know, I just, I feel like I’m not giving you enough. I don’t know what word or what feeling I think I’m not giving you. I just feel like I’m not enough.” You couldn’t figure out what you were trying to really say yourself; there were so many emotions that the letter riled up in you. You continued to try to explain, but James stopped you, interrupting your words by calmly saying your name.
“Don’t say that,” he sighed, the irritation you always recognized subtly showing itself in the way he spoke. “There’s really nothing to worry about there. You know this. Have I done something to make you feel like I don’t think you’re enough?”
You struggled to answer that, of course, he hadn’t; it was all you making up problems in your head. “No, I just,” he could tell you were getting frustrated with yourself. “Hey, please, none of that,” he started speaking the moment he saw you trailing off again, “I said there’s nothing you need to worry about, you do nothing but make my day easier, I don’t know what I’d do if I came home to an empty house. So again, please stop trying to find something wrong, okay?” His voice offered a hint of concern in that last line.
You silently nodded, and he gave you a soft smile in return, scooting over on the couch to pull you into a gentle hug.
That was the kind of man James was. Someone you could trust to redirect you when your thoughts scattered in a thousand different places. He wasn’t perfect with his patience, nor did he always have the right thing to say, but the effort was always there.
Suddenly, you heard a failed attempt to open the driver's seat door, startling you out of your thoughts. It was James. “Oh!” you leaned over to unlock the car. “Took them long enough, you got what you needed?” He got in, sat down, and handed you his renewed license.
“I thought getting here early would save us time.” He sighed, “But take a look at that. I look so old.” He chuckled. “No, you look handsome. I think they got your good side.” You smiled. “That’s what you think my good side is?” He spoke in a falsely forlorn tone, teasing you. You giggled and handed it back to him, watching him tuck it into his wallet.
“What do you have going on with the radio?” He tensed his brows for a moment as he noticed the sound emitting from the speakers.“Oh, I must have forgotten. I don’t remember leaving that on.” You shrugged. “Really? That noise always gives me the creeps. I can barely stand it.” He shivered, turning it off.
There was a beat of silence, like you were both enjoying some form of relief after the radio ceased its buzzing. “I know you’re tired, but I’m feeling up for some breakfast. How’s that sound?” He asked you as he revved up the engine. “Yeah, that would definitely wake me up some.” You nodded your head. “Good, I’m starving.” He shifted into reverse, backing out of where he was parked before the car took off, getting on the road in hunt of the best spot for breakfast.
theartofmadeline
andulkaphoto
origamiaround
pixelskylines
stormborns
vaporwave
