#please bare with me
As you guys have noticed, I’ll have a table at Fanime Artist Alley this weekends. This is my first time attending the con so I’m very excited!!
I’ll be at table 1121with my bud b33pii and we’ll have prints, buttons and commissions for sale. I’ll have this chikorita crossbreed poster as one of my new prints. You can also check out my full inventory list here
Come say hi and feed the chikoritas friends! \o/
Post link
Selfies ✨Olli✨ sends you while he’s on tour
Aftermath.
The hinges on the front door were ripped away from the frame and tattered shavings of wood splintered around the screws that had held it there. Caution tape littered the dusty wood floor that had once shone brilliantly, polished and glowing in the sunbeams and incandescent lighting. The smell of smoke was stale and dull, even though it felt like it was just yesterday that everything had gone so wrong. Bum wheezed softly and pulled the collar of his forest green parka up over his face. His warm breath cast a steamy fog onto the brass buttons and made his chin moist from the condensation.
Stepping carefully through the wreckage, Bum daintily dodged blackened beams and the rusted nails that held fast to them. Everything had meaning now. Everything was ruined. “Everything” was just a word that he used to say so casually. Everything. Why did the nails cling to the rafters? They didn’t have a purpose anymore. They didn’t support the weight of the ceiling. They didn’t have any point to make by melting themselves into all of that ashy charcoal, so why where they still there? Bum could see himself in every little thing in Sangwoo’s house. Every damaged object a mirror, reflecting back to him a personal slight. He used to do the dishes in that stainless steel sink that collapsed into the counter top. The oven was hardly recognizable behind all the melted plastic and shattered glass. That tea kettle used to scream until Sangwoo removed it from the heat, but it will never make so much as a whistle now that he’s gone.
Bum made his way into the laundry room and found himself in a comfortable stare as he blankly looked at the warped appliances. His gaze locked onto the shelving unit where the basket used to set and felt the sting of the cold air drying his eyes out. He blinked involuntarily and his heavy eyelids squeezed out a single tear in a vain attempt to rehydrate. The comfortable stare fell away and Bum was jerked back to the reality he had only just barely faded from. No matter how hard he tried to banish the memories from his mind, his thoughts always found their way back and buried themselves violently into circulation. The clothes, the catch-all basket, the duct tape, the rolling chair, the chef’s knife, the guilt.
I should have stabbed him. I should have killed him. I should have listened to Sangwoo. I should have followed instructions. I should have supported him. I should have saved him. I should. I should. I should have…
“But Ididn’t.”
