Hey I found this self-portrait from like, eons ago, saved in my drafts and it’s like 130 am so here you go.
My name is Sneks and I’m a pan girl who doesn’t take care of her hair but always has eyeliner on and last halloween I was drunk and someone tore out my nose ring by accident and I love Pickles the drummer heyoo.
I honestly want to redo my comic with Gene’s canon death. I know it’s my long comic with the most notes, but I honestly want to redo it.
Most likely won’t be any time soon or whatever, but I’m thinking about it. It’s one of the earliest comics I posted, so there’s not too much detail. It was taken when my old phone was crapping on me and I was stuck using my mom’s old iPad, so the quality isn’t great either. Not to mention there’s some canon lore for Gene I can fix/add since I’ve done a lot since then. Plus I know my art has improved so I want to fix that lol(cause to me it’s Bad)
if he just keeps talking no one will notice how scared he obviously is right now
hyper - critical condescension to mask insecurity & admiration
something snarky & curt to remind everyone he’s antisocial
taking a step back and forgetting to fake - smile
pretentiously declining introductions or ‘ traditional niceties ‘ on the basis that he doesn’t conform to an expected standard
making brief eye - contact and then smiling at the floor
grabbing your shoulder without warning and immediately launching into a three act play consisting entirely of him dramatically complaining about something that doesn’t matter or is wholly his problem to remedy
black with a light coat of dust
deep purple because it’s the color of his phone case
the vicious self - loathing scarlet around his eyes
drank a bottle of whisky instead of showering this morning or the day before
if you light seven bed bath & beyond candles at once you can forget your debilitating depression for a few seconds
he put a dollar store air - freshener in his pocket because the acidic aroma keeps him grounded but forgot that other people will smell this too . he reeks of pine and a tropical blend of fruit
90s band t - shirts and a blazer
black jeans with torn knees because he hasn’t gone shopping since they were invented
faux crocodile skin shoes because he’s Edgy
knotted earphones hanging from jacket pocket , always on stand - by
green pencil with gold lettering worn down to almost unmanageable stub
old leather and silver watch the band of which has clearly been burnt repeatedly by matches
VICES / BAD HABITS
day drinking with no subtlety besides strongly flavored lozenges to mask the scent on his breath . god jonah smells weird
rhythmically scratching himself ( usually arms or thighs ) and any available surfaces around him such as furniture , until there are visible marks left behind
excessive caffeine intake to a medically ill - advised level
gargoyle like lurking in shadowy corners to avoid unwanted interaction
walking around in a daze all day , often notably late to react to any stimuli & remaining eerily placid when he does
clenched fists , looking out at people from beneath heavy brow , and keeping his body facing away from even people he’s fully engaging with
morbid celebration and fascination with anything deemed cold , dangerous , or mysterious
placating ambient sounds and soft spoken self affirmations as his soundtrack for daily life
nearly empty , spacious apartment lit by the moon , no curtains put up to keep the night out . door to the balcony swung open allowing a breeze to filter in and chill half finished scotch on the table
holding arachnids captive on public transit or an outside table at a restaurant , cupping his hands over them until he has an audience to dangle it at
purple ties and unclasped cufflinks . button down only loosely covering ACDC t - shirt he’s been wearing since he was a teenager . empty colorful candy wrappers forgotten in every pocket
me talking about my mental illness in front of my therapist: … i ,,, might have? some sadness… somewhere in me… but it’s? not bad… i’m just whiny… i don’t know i just… never sleep and … me in front of complete strangers: move greg i have depression and i want the pasta it’s an emergency
Every day I handle more money than I will ever make. Every day.
At the start of my employment, my boss showed me videos of people stealing, and we both had a chuckle about it. How silly they were! There was a camera overhead, and it’s not to watch the shoppers. See, we can’t actually stop shoplifters. They get away with it maybe nine out of ten times. But we, who are watched and tallied and witnessed? We are always caught.
At first it was hard to hold one hundred dollars bills. An amount I had never seen before. An amount that didn’t exist in my household. It’s normal now. Here is something that is not for me.
“What the hell, I’ll take another,” says the man, pondering our 200 dollar watches. What the hell. Total comes to 580 and not even a flinch in his face. I have been working for 11 hours today and made only 110 dollars. It will go to my rent. Today I work for free, it feels. When I get my check, I will have 35 dollars left for food and saving.
The six hundreds he hands me go into the cash register. For a moment, I imagine having money. Then I put it away, counting out his change.
I know for a fact we sell our products for double what they are worth. That I could be making commission. That they could hand me those 580 dollars and change my life and not even mark the difference in their checkbooks. He’s not the only sale they make today, but I am the reason they made it. He’s not the only one spending 600 dollars, but if I hadn’t spent two hours with him telling me about his life, he wouldn’t have spent any. I go home. I don’t own a watch.
I have watched and rewatched a video on how to make salmon four ways. My shopping list is always the same. Pasta. Rice. Tuna. If I can afford butter it was a good week. I dream of the world I will never walk in, where I can throw the best fish fillet in the cart with a shrug. I hold hundreds in my hand and look up at the camera. I put them under the cash drawer.
I go to work. I scrap together my savings. I eat my bowl of rice slowly. My manager takes a paid week off from work just for his birthday. He owns a yacht.