Quick And Sloppy Emotional Support Sketch. Sometimes An OC Has The Emotional Wisdom You Need To Hear.

Quick and sloppy emotional support sketch. Sometimes an OC has the emotional wisdom you need to hear.

I love you, and I am so tired of hearing you.

You've been sick, I know, and it's heartless of me to feel burdened by that but here I am, heartlessly thinking of leaving the house- running off somewhere the rattle of your lungs can't reach, where I can't feel your coughing as sure as the vibration of a phone constantly receiving notifications. It reaches me in my dreams, where monsters of the plague claw their way out of your mouth and rouse me from my sleep to find you trembling beside me. It's been a sleepless week and I know you're more tired than I am but I can feel my teeth going slightly out of alignment from the way I clench my jaw.

I can't talk over people, I've never been able to do so without feeling like I'm inflicting harm on myself. Maybe it's the autism or maybe it's an excerpt from the dark chapters I wrote before loving you but each cough of yours silences me completely. I sit frozen as your stuttered breath turns into doubled-over barks of pain, waiting as 13 of them wrack your body before I can finish telling you about my day. It hurts me the way a slammed door does, the way clapping hands near my sensitive ears hurts me, and the way the sounds of my mother hurt me. Maybe that's it. Maybe it's because of her, again.

It's always seemed to me that my mother could not exist without sounds. A sigh as she came home each day, puffing and stomping up the stairs. The grunts of exasperation as she would labor around the house in this hateful, exaggerated way that I knew meant she wanted me to help without her asking. Her asthma, and allergies, and constant colds could be heard from anywhere in the house. And her loud southern way of talking. Every golden silence, every pocket of quiet in which I stowed my daydreams would be filled with her sounds that I could do nothing about.

I grew up in my room, desperate for reprieve but feeling frozen. I started saving money to buy my way to sanctuary as a teenager, and got it last year- moving in with you.

But darling, when I hear a sound like ripping in your chest I'm not in our little reprieve from the world. I'm in my childhood bedroom, tired and wide awake at 3am as my mother hacks sickness into a sink and I feel just as helpless. Forgive me, love, for being just as unwell as you are right now. Ignore my flinches, my tortured glances, my tightened jaw.

Get well soon.

More Kazimier practice 💋

That's a good tip!! I have some 'just go digital' thoughts/comments floating around but I'm not quite ready for that yet 😅. But print and play around, I can get behind.

Thanks @lychhiker-writes ✨️

What pretty linework. It sure would be a shame if someone (me) fucked it up while coloring it in..

Being a writer to me is writing explicit queer sex one minute and next thing I know I'm looking up ancient Sumerian to make a conlang bc my world building is getting out of hand.

✨️OC Questionnaire Tag✨️

Thank you @the-golden-comet for the tag!

My questions:

What is your favorite thing to eat?

What is one of your lifelong goals?

Do you have any fears?

Your questions:

So you're one of those people?

Is this really where you wanted to end up?

Why can't you just.. stop?

I'll be answering as Kazimier from my story 🌐 7 Circles 🌐

He's a serial question-dodger so I'll be answering realistically, but also with a [box of forced truthfulness] lol

(He has a new york-adjacent accent)

1. What is your favorite thing to eat?

Pffft. I ain’t been able ta' eat actual food since I was 'round two decades old, squints. But I do got a favorite meal. Lust has it's own kinda flavor, yeah? And when my prey is achin' for me, followin' my lead and hanging on my every move- that's when I pull away, just a little, just enough for them to whine and show me desperation and add more submissive flavor to the spiking lust.. mmnf. That's my favorite food right there.

[I'm kinda drawn to the sweetness of some lust. It's a flavor that comes out if someone cares for ya, if they're havin' romantic feelin's. But.. it's too much, ya know? Sickly sweet. Makes me think about how I must've tasted once..]

What is one of your lifelong goals?

Let's see.. not livin' in the gutta'.. bein' well off enough I don't gotta sell my rouge to the vamps.. ownin' more than three trashy outfits to go drinkin' in.. I've got all a 4th district sleezebag could want, dollface.

[The only goal is to never, ever, go back to where I've been. I was a naive little dreamer. I was a faithful follower. I was a lover.. then I was on the run, only place I could go was the bed of whatever meal I could entice into feeding me. No plan B. No backup. I'm workin' to put as many safeguards between me and any of THAT as I can.]

Do you have any fears?

What, like humans under the bed? Nah, just fears anyone around here has- bright spaces an' sunshine, gettin' collared, developing terminal mortality..

[And needles, along with damn near anythin' that attaches to 'em. Also I fuckin' hate seein' my own blood. Soak me in someone elses and it's just a matter of tryin' to save my clothes but.. even a drop of my own makes me sick to my stomach. ]

Tagging @katenewmanwrites @cowboybrunch and @officialauthorofanotherworld but no pressure. Open tag! I'd love to see how my questions get answered.