but they are so expensive :'(

anonymous asked:

Mir Mir! Are you fully Korean btw? Also what are your favorite pens you use for drawing and coloring! (Digital or physical!)

Ye I’m full Korean! But I was raised in the US/didn’t go to Korean school so I’m not super fluent (so I normally don’t like speaking it)– I’m the only one out of my sibs who can read/write it though, but I speak Korean/Konglish with to my parents (my dad’s cool with English tho)

And I like using this pen to line and color my digital works, and this brush to paint stuff! 
As for traditional works, I like to use brush pens a lot so my favorites are the Xeno Calligraphy Pen, Zebra brush sign pen, Pentel Fude brush pen, and Kuretake No. 8 brush pen.. I also really like using a Keshimaru Kun correction pen to fix mistakes/make cool line effects like in this doodle. I also use Copic and Finecolour markers to color my doodles o/

it’s so weird hearing americans talk about Target© as some kind of semi-religious holy space of reasonably priced goods and services, bc in it’s short, fever-dream existence up here in the frozen north it was… Not Good. 

in my experience with the three (3) i went to in the surrounding area it was. uh. you know when you step into a place and there’s nothing immediately noticeably wrong but you can just Feel that this is a Bad Space? like the kind of space where if you catch a glimpse of your mother walking down an aisle and turning a corner you know it’s a demonic trick and if you follow her it’ll lead you down a path to a dark space you can’t return from?

or you go in with your friend who’s right next to you but you get a text from them saying “hey i’m in the shoe aisle, you should come here” and you know it’s a trap from the devil? like other things:

  • only half of the dim, washed out, often flickering fluorescent lights were lit at any given time, usually only every-other set, leaving these valleys of darkness that made entire aisles inaccessible for fear of shadow people latching on to your soul like a dark passenger. 
  • entire sections were just Empty. empty shelves with no product, never any employees filling them up, no boxes waiting to be unpacked, no signs saying what should be there.
  • no employees at all actually? wandering around the store even though the parking lots were full and you walked in with a group of 20 or so felt so lonely. you could walk the whole place and it was dead silent and the only other “people” around always were several aisles away with their back turned, unmoving. there was always only one cashier and there was never anyone in her line.
  • there was never any music on or announcements played? another place that does this are all the dollar trees in my area and it gives me anxiety. i feel like i’m being hunted, like i have to hold my breath and listen for the footsteps of beasts in other aisles. 
  • the fitting rooms had a strange, dark energy to them. it felt like if you ever used them, whatever universe you closed the door on would not be the same one you stepped out into when you were done. the washrooms also contained this same dark energy.
  • passing the employees-only doors felt like wandering too close to a bears den. the glass windows never showed anything going on back there, no racks of product, no employees milling around. it was just pitch black, complete darkness. a hungry void.
  • leaving a target was the same disorienting feeling as leaving a dark theatre and exiting into the light. sound and colour and feeling rush back in. you feel like you can breathe again. a weight is lifted from your shoulders. you can’t remember any of the time you spent inside the target.

it is my sincere belief that the targets in canada never existed. the storefronts were put up, yes, but the stores themselves were vast empty caverns filled with dark dreams and sinister interlopers attracted to the malignant leftover energies from zellers. passing through the automatic doors was meant to teleport us to the nearest american location, but something went wrong and we entered an unnatural zone halfway between the upside down and whatever it was that happened in the langoliers. 

i believe the balls outside target are carefully crafted and powerfully attuned magical artifacts that keep up the illusion known as Target©, but were incorrectly spaced in canada due to a mixup between the metric and imperial systems of measurement, and that is why the brief twilight zone episode that was canadian target collapsed virtually overnight.

Soft

It starts with a bar of soap.

For God’s sake, Kent thinks to himself in the “personal care” section of the grocery store. Why does Dove think I’m allergic to purple just because I’m a guy?

He picks up the lavender-scented bar soap and inhales. It smells heavenly. Next he tries the sandalwood-scented from the men’s section. It comes in a gray box and costs fifty cents less. It smells good but it reminds him of floor polish.

I’m a grown-ass man, Kent thinks, and buys the lavender soap.

The next time he’s out of body wash, he spends thirty minutes trying to decide on one of the many “manly” smells before caving to “Cocoa Cabana” in the women’s aisle because it smells like Valentines Day in a bottle. 

After that it’s his deodorant body spray, trading in “Bold” (whatever the fuck boldness smells like) for “Fresh Cotton.” 

The first time Jeff catches a whiff of it on him, he asks, “New fabric softener? It smells awesome.”

“Nah, switched deodorants.”

“Huh.” Jeff nods in approval. “Well, you smell like fresh blankets out of the dryer. I have a physical urge to hug you.”

Kent laughs. Jeff hugs him and he laughs more. It’s nice.

After five months, nearly every toiletry Kent owns has been switched over from an endless variety of blacks, grays, and occasional dark greens and blues to white, purple, soft brown, yellow, and pink. Showers have transformed from a perfunctory necessity to something luxurious. Women’s products are so indulgent. They make Kent feel and smell like he’s been at a spa. He does have to learn to juggle the fragrances appropriately or risk smelling like a perfume store vomited on him. But it’s worth it, for how good he feels after. He feels pampered. His skin is softer, his hair shines, and even his pits and crotch look and feel cleaner. He doesn’t know if it’s the products or because he really cares about the maintenance, now, since he’s got all these specialty items to try. It doesn’t matter. He feels great.

Kent now has honest-to-God bubble baths and detox-salt-soaks. He’s got body butters and face masks and a lip balm in almost every flavor. The ladies at the Lush at the mall know him by name.

Kent’s still single. He’s got his cat for company, though, and the guys, who drop by or come over for movie and game nights and get drunk and eat all his food and pretend to chirp him for the specialty lemongrass-scented hand soap in his bathroom. Sometimes, on roadies, Swoops will plop down next to him on a bus or a plane and say loudly, “Damn, who’s got chocolate and isn’t sharing? Oh, it’s just Parser. Fuck you for getting my hopes up,” and then he’ll noogie Kent or grab his fingers and gnaw on them.

(The coaches have had to break them up before and it’s very unbecoming of two adult men.)

More than once, one of the guys has fallen asleep next to Kent and ended up face-first in Kent’s shoulder. They’ll wake up blearily, rubbing their eyes and saying, “Whoops, sorry man, didn’t mean to drool on you.” Kent was confused at first but he’s realizing that it’s because they gravitate towards the scent of him in their sleep. He smells like comforting things: honey and chocolate and cotton and Shea. He smells like warmth and safety. It’s why he likes all the things he buys, so it makes sense the guys would like that, too.

Nobody rags on him for it. They chirp him, but that’s different. Chirping, light-hearted and giggly, means acceptance. Soon his teammates start coming up to him in the locker room or nudging him on a bus and saying, “Parser, can I borrow some of your stuff?” and leaving with key-lime lips or cocoa-butter hands.

But it’s when he catches Sunny—big, burly, greatly-bearded d-man Sunny—pulling a bright orange tube of passion fruit lip balm out of his bag and slicking it on in front of everyone that he knows for sure that it’s okay.

the Republican Party has had 6 years to come up with a replacement for Obamacare. 6 years to study the numerous examples of successfully run healthcare systems in other wealthy developed countries that have all managed to cover more people at lower cost than the United States, and with better health outcomes. the entirety of the European Union has universal healthcare but there are varying models used by each state- some are single-payer, others combine private insurance with public insurance. Countries like Japan, SKorea, Singapore and Taiwan are other models of universal healthcare that can be looked at. So even if single-payer seems too radical a shift, there are a shitload of other intermediate options. 6 years to get ideas from these these real-life tried and tested models that have been running for decades but they can only come up with this poorly written mess, with the excuse that healthcare is complicated and ‘hard’ and that nobody can figure out a good solution. 🙄