I Am Not Fine.

This is just sad but it also has feels with soo many levels 😭

I really eat for platonic fics

Believe {Father John Price & Reader} [Angst, verbal Fight]

You loved your Dad. You really did. You may not know him, but you knew he was a good man, a soldier. But you don't remember a time where he was really there for you. One day, he sits at the table with you, asking you questions and all you can think of, is why?

A/N: I absolutely didn't base this off of a c.ai Bot I talked with. Absolutely not. Now cry like I have.

TW: yelling, family argument, ilugky crying, fighting, discussions about absent father, exactly that father trying his best, people saying things they don't mean or want to say, !!NO ABUSE!!

You had come home from college, when you already saw the strange truck in the driveway. It took a few minutes before you remembered it was his truck. You father was back. You weren't bothered, but it also didn't spark any real type of joy in you. Your keys jingling, you opened the front door, kicked off your shoes, threw your backpack next to them and looked for you mother to say hello.

You mother was in the living room, lounging on the couch, a thick arm around her shoulder, as you could see your father's head buried in her hair, slowly scratching his scalp. "Hey Mom." She didn't perk up like usually, her eyes only scanning you drowsily. It was kind off cute. She smiled, greeting you back softly, her voice a bit cracked. She had cried, but you didn't bother. Of course she did. "Hey John." You smiled at your father as well, even if it was a tad more blank than the one given to your mother. He noticed, if course he did.

Dinner was already done, so stalking into teh kitchen to serve yourself some food, there were a bunch of small candies strewn on the table. You recognized them. The tiny pinkish Bonbons wrapped in yellow, blue and green paper, a fancy font slapped onto it displaying it's name. You had eaten these a bunch when you were little. But you hadn't for about 10 years at that point. You sighed. It was a cute gesture, so you stuffed them in your pocket. One of your friends would eat them, it would be okay.

Finishing your dinner and putting away the plates, John accompanied you in the kitchen. "Hey, Mouse. How was school?" "Good." An awkward silence settled into the room. "Anything special happened?" "No." Another period of silence as he sat down at the table, in front of where you had been sitting. "I see you took the candy?" "I'll give it to a friend. I don't like them." He looked a bit confused. "I thought you liked them? You always lived them as a child." You sighed, taking your seat. "Exactly. I was a child. I don't like them anymore, too sugary sweet." You didn't know what he thought, not being able to read him like your mother.

"What uh... What have you been up to while I'm gone?" "Studying. I have a Job to earn some pocket money. Got new friends." "Are you dating anyone?" You shook your head. "Not interested right now. Maybe some day." He smiled. "That's good. Wanting to focus on your studies first." "I want to be there for Mom, that's all. If I get a partner, paired with the Job and my studies, I won't be able to be there for her. Don't want her to basically loose her only other family member." Your words struck John, his gaze flickering to your Mom still lounging on the couch.

"I-" he paused and sighed, scratching his neck. "I know I wasn't always there. But I have a few months off now, so we could... We could do something together. If you want." You shrugged. "Sure. Anything specific?" "I hoped you might have some suggestions." You chuckled. Of course. "Well. What do you like to do?" He pondered. He actually didn't really know. He usually stayed home, doing something fun like going to theme parks or taking the kids to teh ice cream parlour down the street. "I don't mind as long as we do something together. I really missed you two and we could do something together, I thought. As a family."

"That's sweet, John." You simply added. "Let Mom plan something, she's better at it than I am." Another round of silence brewed over them. "You stopped calling me Dad." Price stated, matter of factly and you flinched. You tried to avoid the subject. "Yeah." You paused. How would you let him know without sounding harsh? "I don't think it's right someone you don't know your father. It shouldn't be that way." Your words stung. They stung to actually admit, but they stung more to be heard by your father. You loved him, you did. But you just weren't sure if he really was your father. Biologically, yes. But he had never been there for you, or your Mom.

"I'm... Sorry. I'll try to make it up." "It's okay, you don't need to. You already lost my entire childhood, I don't think a few years more will matter." You mumbled, glancing at the table. You really didn't want to look at him right now. You were being honest, you remembered him always preaching to be honest to him and his Mom, so that they could always be honest with you. So you did just that. What would it do to hide your hurt? You could feel the way he had to digest your words. "I know I wasn't there in your life. But I would like to be. Please, Mouse. Let us.. talk. Tell me what you like, what you want, I'll get it."

You huffed. "I don't want anything money can buy. I want a father. A real one." Your words sounded harsher than they should have, tone sharp and accusatory. "Sorry, that's not... I just meant I don't need anything from you. Thank you though." He stared at you, you could feel your body heating up at his stare. Or was that your feeling of guilt making you feel this way? "I understand." was the last words spoken in the small room for a while. "I know I was absent. I promise you, I missed you all the time. I just wanted to hold you, see you grow up... I hated coming here with you having already achieved so many milestones. Milestones I couldn't witness, a baby that was mine, that I didn't raise sits in front of me as an adult. I know it's not supposed to be this way, and I really want to make it up. To get to know you. Please."

Your breath was shaky, as you looked out the window to the garden, tears starting to burn in your eyes. "I needed a father. Not a soldier that was never here." You muttered, you voice waivering slightly. "I know." He leaned forwards, putting his hands on yours. You pulled it backwards instinctively, regretting the action on the spot, as you saw his hand retract back, hesitantly, he spoke again: "I know it hurts." "Do you? Do you really?!" You felt your patience snap, something in you just telling you to scream at him, another part begging you not to, he was a poor man working his job and trying his best for you, he couldn't do anything against the fact that his best just wasn't enough. Startled, his eyes finally found yours, fury in your eyes as you stood up.

"Because I know how much it hurt watching you leave! Every single time, seeing your back as you got into the truck and disappeared for months! Do you know how it broke Mom?! I took care of her, when she was depressed, not being able to get out of bed because the thought struck her that you could be dead!" Your mother shuffled into the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed because of the commotion. Your voice was louder, even if you weren't shouting, it was simply slightly raised by your anger. "When she didn't know how to fix something in the house. I tried my best to look it up and do it myself! I did the heavy lifting, I was that one kid in school who only ever had her mother! They called her a whore, you know that?! I protected Mom, I protected myself! Because you weren't there, like you should have been!"

He seemed surprised, before his body slumped into itself. Exhaustion clear on his features. You felt pity, but you also felt you weren't done. You wanted to be down so bad. Why did everyone else get what they wanted but not you? "I'm sorry, I wish I could go back, do it all again, make different choices, but I can't. And I hope we can go forward together, Mouse. I don't want to loose you becaus eif my mistakes, little one. I know my Job isn't an excuse to not be there for you and your Mom, I..." He paused, taking a shaky breath. "I tried to protect you by keeping threats out of this country, people away from weapons they shouldn't have, and yet I failed to realise it was too far away for you. And I... I hope you can forgive me like your mother can, e-" "No, I can't!" You screamed, interrupting your father in his speech.

"I can't and I won't! How can I forgive a man I don't know?!" You started to cry, the sadness and disappointment mixing with you anger and simply becoming too much, as tears fell down your face and sobs and whines accompanied you. "The only one in this house that knows you is she!" Pointing towards your mother, Price didn't even need to follow you finger, the only other person in this house being her. "I know. I know. I want to get to know you, so please, calm down, sit, let us talk about ourselves. Please. I just want to be a father for you." "WELL YOU WON'T BE!" your mother gasped, John startled and you stopped in your track, knowing you went too far. You didn't even mean to say it, it just slipped out.

Grabbing a tissue, you pushed her stunned mother aside, making your way up the stairs to your room, as your crying became more violent. You heard your father scramble up in his seat as you were halfway up the stairs, his heavy feet booming on the floorboard, as he reached you when you were at the top of the stairs. "Please, Honey. I know it's a lot, but I really want to know you, I want you to know me, let us start a new beginning, please! I'll be there for you!" You turned towards him. "Until you have to leave again. I know your Job still comes first, John." "I won't let you down, I promise! I'll.. I'll find a way!" You huffed, your eyes gazing upwards to the ceiling, trying to hold back even more tears, even though they dropped anyways. "I know you won't."

"They will call and you will leave, and then we won't hear anything form you until you suddenly show back up. And then we'll have to talk to each other again! That's not how it's supposed to be! That's now how it should be! You should be here for me, and I know this is selfish and rude and mean, but I just wanted a normal family!" John shook, you could see tears forming in his eyes, as he realized the pain he actually caused you. "I'm sorry I failed you." "It's okay." Your voice sounded oddly at peace then. "I stopped believing in you a long time ago." You entered your room, locking it, as you pushed your back to the door, falling to the ground. For a few seconds you could controll yourself, before your son's, cries, whails and whimpers were unconfined escaping your mouth. You just wanted to scream, punch, run. You loved him. He was your father, so why did it hurt this much?

John, on the other hand. Stood frozen, tears catching in his muttonchops, as he stared at your closed door, posters decorating it he had never seen before, drawings and pictures of friends he didn't know. He had gone wrong so many times, why, oh why didn't he realize it sooner?

It's very easy to select the text of a fic and copy-paste it on Ao3, right?

Well, we can stop people (and AI) from doing this by adding a skin to our fics!

I just did it with all my fics and it works.

How to do it, step by step⬇️

1) Log in. Click 'Skins' in the menu, at the left. Then click 'My Work Skins' and after doing this, click 'Create Work Skins' at the top right.

2) Write a title for your skin (anything you want, it doesn't matter). Then in the large text box, write this:

#workskin * {

user-select: none !important;

-webkit-user-select: none;

-moz-user-select: none;

-ms-user-select: none;

}

This is what you should see:

3) Click 'Submit'. Your skin has been created, and now you have to add it to all your works.

4) Click 'Works'. Then click 'Edit Works' at the top right.

5) Click 'All' to select all your works. Scroll down and click 'Edit'.

6) Scroll down until you see 'Select Work Skin' and select the one you just created.

7) Click 'Update All Works'.

Now, people can't select the text of your fics and copy it😊

PS: I also recommend changing the visibility of your fics to 'Only Show to Registered Users'. You'll lose your anon readers, but it will protect your works a bit more against AI scrappers

Task force 141 found out about your soft spots

Summary: You’re one of the members in the taskforce, and you’re one of the more quiet, self-reserved and stoic soldiers among them. They didn’t mind since they respected your personal space, but at some point, they saw just a glimpse of your rather different, softer side. a/n: I’ve had this idea in mind for a long time and just wanted to get this out there, English is not my main language so I apologize for any mistakes along the way! This is also my first fic so feedbacks are appreciated :] Tags: incorrect military terms/training, fluff, can be read as platonic or romantic, x gn!reader, reader's text is in purple Part 2 is out! PLEASE DO NOT RESHARE MY WORK ON OTHER PLATFORMS WITHOUT MY PERMISSION 

Captain John Price

You were on a mission with Price in another city, stalking and trailing the target, when suddenly the target decided to take a turn and entered a cafe. With the captain’s signal, both of you followed and took a spot in one of the corners in the warm, bustling cafe. It was a perfect atmosphere; the cafe was not necessarily noisy, but the number of people and music were busy enough for you and your captain to stay hidden and blend in well. You kept a keen eye on the target, noticing that he was in the queue and, so far, not presenting any signs of danger or threats. The captain gave your foot a nudge as he diverted your attention to the young waitress beside the table that you didn’t notice. "Hi! What would you like to order?" The waitress spoke in the local language that you didn't understand, but you knew she was most likely trying to take an order with the way she held a small notepad and a pen. You gave a small nod as you glanced at Captain for a moment, who was also reading the menu. You do the same, only frowning slightly as you couldn't read anything as well, and because you wanted to get this over with, you randomly pointed at one item to the waitress as she smiled and jotted down your order.

When the waitress walked away, you followed the captain’s gaze on the target; it seemed that he was still in line. You're slightly confused but relieved that the target remains in sight. Not long after, the drinks ordered previously arrived, but your eyes remained fixated on the sketchy figure. It wasn't until the Captain cleared his throat that you broke your gaze and stared down at the table. You froze slightly at the sight before you.

You watched a little wiggle action of the foam on top of what you assume is coffee before you. Except it's not the normal flat latte art kind of foam, but a huge bear foam with a cute face drawn with chocolate. You blink once, then twice before releasing a breath you didn't know you were holding.

This is so cute!! 

You thought to yourself internally as you felt yourself smiling, before realising the situation at hand as you snapped your head towards the captain, hoping he didn't see you, and to your relief, his eyes were still glued to the target. You take this opportunity to slowly take out your phone and take a quick picture of the drink before doing the same and observing the target again. As soon as you do, the target made its move and headed to the exit, which made the both of you follow promptly, seemed like he had a bag as well which was definitely not good news. You were a bit disappointed that you were not given the chance to try the cute drink, but you know you have a job to do, so you just hope that perhaps you can take a closer look again at the coffee later on your phone.

What you didn’t know was how the Captain noticed the change in your demeanour when you spotted the drink; he honestly wasn't expecting much from you, thinking you might just ignore it. But he saw from the corner of his eyes just how your eyes widen slightly, how they are shining when you realize what you ordered, and the way your cheeks had a shade of pink on it as you smile. He rarely gets to see you smile, and he found it endearing to think a cold soldier like you has a liking for cute things. He smiled internally as he noticed how you took the photo sneakily when you thought he wasn’t looking.

He made a mental note to bring you to a cafe he knows that have those famous latte art drinks after the mission, just to see you smile like that again.

John Soap McTavish

The military base has decided to bring in military working dogs to aid in the next mission, which involves scouting and detection for drug detection at the port, where secret drug trafficking from a certain group of terrorists has been reported.  

"Soap, you’re assigned to Max and Judy; you’ll have to talk to Sergeant Sam about the training," the Captain says as he walks through the compound. You noticed how Soap seemed to tense slightly as he clenched his jaw; you also noticed how his breath hitched as he stared at the two German shepherds standing on the sides of the dog handler; you knew he had a bad history with canines in general when you stumbled upon his journal once; and seeing how uncomfortable he was, you decided to step up for the job.

"Captain, can I do it instead?" The captain glanced back, his beard shifting as he thinks for a moment before nodding and giving you permission. Soap stared at you upon hearing your voice and gave you an apologetic yet grateful look as he breathed out a sigh of relief.

"Aye thanks… Let me know if yae ever need something from meh in the future."

He watched as you gave him a gentle pat on his shoulder as you nodded. Unbeknownst to him, you actually own a German Shepherd yourself, and you’re very much a dog person, and you’re excited to start the training with the military dogs. He stood on the side as you approached the two dogs, nodding along to the instructions given by Sam. As you bent down and extended your hand out, the two dogs gave a few sniffs before finally warming up to you, with their tails wagging as they circle your body. He’s impressed with how friendly you seem with animals, and you were natural with the dogs.

After the training, he went around looking for you as he held a bottle of ice-cold mineral water, hoping that he could give it to you since you were training heavily under the hot, blazing sun. As he turned a corner, right behind the shed, he heard a few barks. He softened his steps as he leant in and took a peek behind the wall, and he was glad he did.

Who’s a good boy? Yes, you are! Yes, you are! Come here! Oooh, such a big boy are you? You did such a great job with me just now~ oh! No wait wait- aH-!

He watched with a grin as he took in the image before him. You, giggling and rolling on the floor as the dogs lick and nuzzle your face and neck, having fun and relaxing with the dogs. He would almost forget that they were military dogs, and yet, with you? They looked domestic. On top of that, he has never heard you laugh or speak like this before; sure, you were using a baby voice and all as you cooed the dog, but he didn’t care because you have the softest yet brightest giggle, a stark contrast to your usual stoic self. He left after watching you for a while, smiling as he walked away to let you have your moments with the doggies. Next time, he’ll definitely want to join you in the training if it means getting to see this side of you more often. 

Kyle Gaz Garrick 

You groan as you sit on the passenger side as Gaz drives the Jeep. It was almost 9.30 pm as you were both ordered to buy a few furniture pieces, tables, and chairs specifically as an emergency thanks to Soap breaking them when he was messing around earlier.

"Why can’t we buy it tomorrow?"

Gaz asks as he, too, frowns and crosses his arms as a yawn escapes his mouth.

"We have a meeting with the other members from London tomorrow, and we can’t make them sit on the floor now, can we?"

Captain replied with a sigh as he frowned; he too was tired and annoyed with the situation, but he has a point. Gaz has asked you for help since the furniture needs to be carried, and you followed along (not without silently complaining).

The day has been terrible for you, it seems like bad luck was looming around your shoulders in every moment. Just this morning, you stubbed your toe and you couldn’t find your left sock, then sprained your shoulder slightly during the sparring session with Ghost. Not only that, the sandwiches that you always order for dinner were out of stock, so overall, you’re not having the best day. But who can you blame? You just decided to suck it up as you nod and follow Gaz. 

After parking a spot in IKEA, both of you decided to split up to find the respective wood and parts of the tables and chairs that, thankfully, the details of them have been sent to you by the Captain, so that the process can be faster before the store closes for the night. You sigh as you place the last part of the table in the trolley, crossing off the last serial number and name. You walk towards the place that Gaz told you to meet up with before stopping when you walk past the kid's section.

There it is, in all its glory: Djungelskog and the other notable plushies in the corner. Truth be told, you actually own two Blåhaj (they're in your house) and a baby Blåhaj in the quarters. You’re a big fan of plushies, especially the ones from IKEA and Miniso. You just haven't saved up enough cash to bring the big brown bear home. You take a step, then another, inching closer to the tray, until you’re right in front of the bear. You glanced around to make sure no one is around before you gently pick up the bear, thankful that there weren't many people in the first place due to the late hour. Without a second thought, you gave in and squish your face into its tummy as you give a big sigh and hug it tightly, smiling to yourself as you feel the stress dissolving away. Something about burying yourself in the soft cushion of cotton is healing for you; it gives you a safe, warming feeling, and it reminds you of the comfort that you never got much of as a kid.

You gave it a few more squeezes before finally parting ways with the bear, softly nudging its nose a few times as you whispered softly:

I swear I’ll come and bring you home next time I come.

You smile and place the bear back in its original position, glancing at it one last time as you spot Gaz in the distance, then swiftly push the trolley towards him. Gaz pays for the parts, and both of you head to the car. You get ready in your seat and fasten the seatbelt before Gaz speaks up.

"Oh, I forgot something. Give me a sec"

You haven’t even had the chance to ask back as he bolted back into IKEA. What did he forget? All the parts have been bought, and the store is nearing its closing time as well, but whatever it is, you waited patiently.

Maybe it's because of the long day, but as you rested your head on the window, you dozed off while you were waiting and didn’t wake up until you heard the driver's side car door open.

"Sorry it took awhile, we’ll go back now"

You nod sleepily as you murmur. "What did you forget?"

"Oh, don't worry about it", Gaz replies as he presses the gas pedal and promptly drives back to the base. You didn’t question further; you figured he probably needed something himself.

You went straight to bed after dropping off the equipment for Soap and Ghost to handle, immediately passing out as you landed on the soft bed.

The next morning, you were getting ready for the day as you stretched, satisfied that at least the sleep last night was good enough. As you open the door, a soft material lands in your room with a soft “umph” sound, you immediately look down cautiously, and that's when you see it.

Djungelskog, with its head tilted to your side as its fluffy hand remains on its tummy, on your floor. You were confused, and frankly, you were not awake enough to fully comprehend what just happened. But once you connected the dots, you smiled to yourself as you lifted the bear up and hugged it.

You make sure to buy Gaz something next time as a thank you.

Simon Ghost Riley

The day was mundane; after a few gruelling missions, the task force had many reports to do. You’ve opted to do them in one of the empty meeting rooms; you liked doing work in these rooms more than facing the concrete wall of your own quarters. At least here, the table was wide and it was fairly quiet; sometimes Ghost will join you as he feels the same. You enjoy his presence because, unlike the rest of the group, he is one of the few people you like spending time with in silence. Today was no different.

The hours go by quickly with the room filled with nothing but paper shuffling and turning pages. You sigh as you place down your pen and give a big stretch, deciding to take a break as you stand and move towards the door. The big man himself also follows along; you don’t question it; you figured he might need a break too.

As you walked away from the room, you decided to go to the bathroom. You passed by the training hall as you overheard the Captain and Laswell talking over some topics for the upcoming mission, but something caught your attention.

"....My wife brought cheesecake; it's in the fridge…."

Your ears perked up to the sound of cake; you haven’t had any dessert recently, and you do like cheesecake. You make a mental note to take a trip to the mess hall after using the bathroom, hoping to have a slice yourself.

As you make your way to the fridge silently, you approach the kitchen and let out a soft sigh of relief when the place is empty. You slowly open the door of the fridge as you poke your head in and search for any sign of cake. You were about to give up when you couldn’t see any, but you jolted slightly when you felt a pat on your shoulder. You quickly turn around, only to be met by Ghost again, with a plate in his hand. As you look at the plate, which has a slice of cheesecake, your eyes blink with hope as you slowly glance back at him. He gives you a nod as he hands you the plate, and you nod back as well with a smile, happy and grateful that he saved you a slice. You take a seat at one of the stools and grab a fork as you eat the cheesecake happily. Ghost leaned against the counter opposite you as he makes himself a cup of coffee. He watched silently as your mood seems to improve. Earlier, he saw how you stopped in your tracks when you overheard the conversation, how your eyelashes fluttered, and how your steps grew lighter. He immediately went to the kitchen when you head to the bathroom and managed to pry one last slice of Soap before he finished them, hoping to save you a piece when you come by later. As you take the first few bites with your eyes closed, you give a hum of approval as your shoulders drop. It’s not like the cheesecake was extremely good, but you can tell from the texture that it was homemade. You miss baking yourself; the last time you did it was with a roommate before you joined the military. You missed those silly moments as you clumsily mixed the ingredients and argued with your friend to stop adding too much sugar into the batter, or the time your friend made fun of you for baking the hardest brownies that can break cement if thrown at them. You also tend to have favouritism towards home-cooked stuff, no matter who made it; you always liked how the food tends to taste just slightly better. Is it because of comfort? Or the memories that flood your mind when you take in the smell? You honestly don't know; maybe it's both. Or maybe you like the thoughts and love people put into the meals when they cook. You were so lost in thought that you didn't realise you were swinging your feet idly on the stool. The stool was slightly taller than the regular one, and your legs barely touched the floor.

Ghost finds the view a bit charming—to see you relax and content over a slice of cake. It's not that he is complaining; he just never really saw you this comfortable before. He observes you silently and takes note of how you like to munch on your right cheek more than the left, making it puffy. He chuckles to himself when you start swinging your legs too. He's glad that he managed to snatch the last piece of cake, and perhaps in the near future, he’ll bring you some cake to share with you.

•·················•·················•·················•·················•·················•·················• a/n: that's all! Let me know what you think!! like a part two or something, have a nice day/night! :>

I would really like this trend of donation scammers sending anons to stop. I block them yet they still send anons. It's very annoying.

Not me having a dream last night of shielding and trying to protect Simon Riley with my mid size body versus him wanting to shield me instead with his large hulking body against the would be assassin.

We were protecting each other back and forth, swapping places on who would rather be hurt repeatedly till I woke up from the dream.

Getting mass-send ask lately spamming asks and dms asking for monetary donations 5,10, sometimes I see 50 dollars asking for money.

I'm sorry to the legit Gaza people but there are mixes of Gaza scammers who are guilt tripping me for needing to donate money that ended me deleting the asks/chats due to stress because of their constant spamming and messaging.

I cannot differentiate from legit to scammers anymore so deleting asks every time someone sends one.

I'm sorry please find someone else to donate. Sorry not taking chances and risks.

I am a probationary artist who is not only broke but UNDERPAID and is in a third world country. I am barely surviving and have barely any money to get by.

Hii chooms remember at the end credit scene especially in Goro takemura line when you kept him alive at the certain part of the game and did any other ending than the Devil ending?

His voice (audio) line is still the same 'Rot in hell' line except in the subtitles they are labeled as:

(So sorry for the low quality pic)

I recently played this in the latest update-

Is this glitch, bug, or wut?

22Soap + 09Ghost meeting in the afterlife🤯🔥

Things that are broken also end up there!!

,,quite a lot when one can’t drive(22ghost) and one breaks a lot of laptops(09ghost)

Art Lesson: Dips

Depression is a funny thing. 

Mental illness of all sorts is a funny thing. Pops up in all sorts of ways, it likes to when you don’t need it around especially. 

I try to write up art tips for people that are less about Art with a capitol “A” and more about the struggles that crop up within it. Within ourselves. 

A great deal of creatives deal with depression, or with mental illness in general. Anxiety, mood disorders, executive function disorders; it’s alluded to constantly in all sorts of platitudes, to the point that people joke about it. But it’s real. Creatives generally struggle because of the nature of creating. It’s always taxing even when it’s fun, and it can be hard when you feel the constant need to make things, and even worse when you burn out. 

I think it’s important to emphasize that it’s not uncommon to have dips. Dips in mood, dips in perceived artistic skill, dips in interest. 

These are ok. It’s apart of growth, and sometimes it’s unavoidable. Usually it’s inconvenient. 

Dips are natural. You’re not bad at art. You’re not losing your ability to be creative. You are not stupid, you’re not unwanted, you’re not alone. 

Dips can be a sign that we need a break. They can be a sign that we need a challenge. They can be a sign that we need to talk to someone and work on ourselves. They’re never permanent. 

I know I personally struggle with feeling like I’m just not a creative person. I beat myself up because I can’t meet personal deadlines, or I lose engagement with personal projects quickly. 

None of that means I’m a bad artist. It means I have to find frameworks that work for me.

What do you do without people asking you to? What is the work you do just because it feels good to be alive when you’re doing it? 

Maybe it’s working with others? Talking with people? Organizing? Growing things? Relentlessly polishing? Making people laugh? Watching birds? 

It can be a hard question to answer when you’re depressed or having an episode. Hold the question with you though. There are usually moments in the day where the heavy is lighter, and note when that is. Note why that is. 

Being able to incorporate those underlying interests will help you learn the right path. 

For me, it’s helping people. It’s not a cure-all for my problems, but it helps me manage my goals and expectations. If any one person gains something from relating with my work or words, that’s a win. They are my win. 

I know this is meandering and open ended, but I want to relate that having a dip in interest, art, or emotional health is natural. It’s not pleasant, but it’ll pass. Stop for a moment and think about what you’re needing. 

Honestly if you’re having trouble figuring it out, DM me and we can chat about it. I can’t promise answers, but I can hear you out. Sometimes framing your thoughts sets the answer out in front of you. 

Be kind to yourselves. I know you’ll make it.