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lilylamps · 11 months ago

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Picture You

| You visit a local art show in Hobie's universe, not knowing he contributed. Not knowing you contributed; [Webhead reader; Friends to ??; Feelings realization] Hobie Brown

Hobie’s house always smelled vaguely different. For a few weeks there, it smelled of incense. Incense he had stolen, of course. When he ran out of that, it smelled like cigarette smoke because he’d let his friend crash there, trying to break the habit and get back on his feet. Various good and bad smells. Cookies after a baking hyper-fixation. Detergent from a “freak laundry accident” that Hobie swore was the downstairs neighbors conspiring against him. All of these mixed with a lethargic scent of cologne which seemed to blend well with everything. Once, it had even smelled like citrus and lavender. It didn't take long for me to squeeze out the fact Hobie had developed a crush, and he had deep cleaned his apartment to impress her.

Today, though, it smelled like coffee. Hobie didn’t drink coffee, though. I drink coffee. I show up at his door with those little cups to put in the busted up Keurig his temporary roommate left behind. Everything in Hobie’s house was stolen, discovered, or borrowed. The coffee table (that he calls “Just Table” because he doesn’t drink coffee). The armchair he got from a friend’s sister’s ex boyfriend. His shitty vintage boombox and the tapes he plays.

It was often I showed up outside of his window, backpack full of treats or gifts in tow. I sit on his couch and drink from a chipped mug with “World’s Best Grandpa” painted on the side in colorful letters. He walks behind me, pacing and scrolling through his phone. I ignore the slow, inconsistent footsteps behind me and click through the various shows I've had in rotation.

“Have you ever seen The Princess Bride ?”

I don’t really expect an answer, and I don't get one. He’s busy, he usually is. Not usually on his phone, though, but who am I to step between a guy and his Candy Crush addiction? I sigh and put the remote down, deciding to head back to my universe for the night.

Hobie was part of the group that took interest in me via the Spider Society. I didn’t go to HQ very often, no reason to. Until I had a run-in with a multi-dimensional creature that I had to report to Miguel. That’s when I met Pavitr. He was an incredibly bright force that inevitably offered an invitation to lunch with his friends. His friends I came to know well. Gwen was, by definition, a rebel. She did everything on purpose, usually with the intent to piss off her dad. Gwen was the epitome of teenage rebellion that was most times ill-advised. Miles was talented, he was always wondering. He was constantly thinking and creating new ideas. It was inspiring to hear his thoughts. Pavitr was a soothing presence, not audibly but he had the perfect vibes. A chance to listen to him was a chance to tune everything out because Pav’s existence required the utmost attention.

Hobie, when first approached, was intimidating. His demeanor remains nonchalant and tuned-out. He was covered in spikes and leather and patterns. He looked incredibly threatening, too cool. When he spoke, it almost sounded out of character. He was kind and welcoming, funny. All traits many Spider-Men had. This was the justification I had for how interested I was in him, his energy. He was just as attractive and charming as Pav or that one guy who I always saw in the lobby.

I’ve been to their houses, I crash often. Gwen let me stay with her for almost a month once. In return, I help with Spider work and house chores to show my gratitude. I know what everyone’s room looks like, a main theme of band posters and scattered clothing. I don't visit Miles too often, he's got a lot of stress already. I stay above a convenient store owned by a family friend of Pav’s when I go to see him. Hobie has always let me stay at his place, though. I have made myself particularly comfortable in his shared flat that his roommate never seems to be in. I don’t ask questions, I just sleep on his couch.

I reflect on everything as I fold his blanket and set it on his couch. I pick up my bag and stuff my jacket into it. It’s warm enough , I think. I sit on the floor to lace up my shoes. Hobie acknowledges me before walking into his room, I nod back and finish tying my shoes. I walk to the sink with my cup of water to wash it. Sitting on the counter, slightly ripped and damp, is a flier.

A seemingly homemade advertisement for a local art showing, raising money for the food bank. The food bank I remember Hobie telling me about. He had been protective of it ever since he discovered there was a prominent political figure who was more than adamant to take down the business. I remember Hobie being mad. I remember bringing him brownies and stopping by with a hefty donation to the food bank without Hobie knowing. I remember doing this often. I remember how kind the owners were, how I developed the same protective nature towards them.

I read the flier more closely. An art show with an admission fee, local artists, local music, good cause. I was immediately interested. I walk to Hobie’s room, leaving the flier behind on the counter.

“Hey, I’m gonna head out.”

“Yeah, be safe.” He smiles and nods. “If you need anything, call.”

I smile back and wave goodbye, exiting the room and grabbing my belongings. I tuck myself out of the window and swing through the city. Food bank. I think to myself. I eventually found it. A brick building with a single, cramped entrance. I enter and inquire about the art show. It’s supposed to be held at a church nearby. Should’ve read the rest of the flier . I note the time and address, thanking them for their help.

★★★

The church was made up entirely of coarse, yellowed brick. Everything was incredibly old and classy. The windows were stained glass, geometric shapes lined with brassy gold. Cars lined up in the parking lot of the church. I walk to the broken-up sidewalk and feel how warm the evening is in the direct line of the sunset. The event was set to begin at six-thirty. People were scattered outside, talking in groups. The environment was friendly, warm. I walk up the seven steps that lead to the two glass doors. Once inside, I smell old paper and floral perfume. A classic church smell , I think to myself with a smirk.

The church foyer was wide and open, a few tables set out in front with a donation jar, papers, and chairs holding people with large smiles and kind eyes. I can tell this church has been made into a sort of community center, the people needing somewhere to gather. I approach the table, becoming aware of the makeshift stage boosting up a band. The music had already begun, soft yet upbeat, setting a chill tone. I greet the older woman sitting at the table, recognizing her from the food bank. I smile and make the admission fee, and then some. These people have created a more meaningful community with their own presence than a local politician ever could with bulldozers and contractors. The idea that they had to hold fundraisers in local churches because they only have personal connections to work with made me strongly displeased.

After being told to enjoy myself, I walk through one of the doors. From what I could tell, all the extra furniture had been moved into closed off rooms to clear space for the “galleries.” Completely barren rooms are now decorated with various artwork. I take my time and shove my hands into my pockets, wandering around the first room. The first few rooms have impressive work. From notebook paper sketches to large canvases painted with bright colors. About a minute into browsing the second room, a woman walks past me.

“Hello.” Her voice is upbeat, breathy.

I raise my eyebrows, “Oh- Hi.” I smile.

She stares at me, studies me. I furrow my brows as she watches my every move. After a few more awkward seconds, she smiles widely and walks out. Okay? I brush it off.

A few more rooms in, I see a canvas about the size of a piece of printer paper. It’s labeled “Black Treacle” by a bo y younger than me. I study the details. A can of black treacle is painted, highlighted and shapely. A few more paintings.

A dark, swirling painting depicting earthly objects drawn toward the center: “Supermassive Black Hole.”

An orange, fiery background contrasting four black silhouettes: “Daphne Blue”

Label after label, my head tilts and my eyes study. I smile in confusion and inspiration.

“Purple haze”, a portrait of Jimi Hendrix.

“Holy Calamity”, a charcoal sketch inspired by the war on drugs, tacked with a lengthy and tragic origin.

After stepping back from the wall, I notice two people staring at me. I subtly look over myself. I don’t have anything on my shirt. I touch my face. I’m pretty sure there’s nothing on my face… I quickly walk to the next room.

While overthinking the stares, my train of thought is derailed when I see a canvas, just a little bigger than the rest. It shows a sunset with a city skyline. The angles and edges were lined with gold foil, white highlights darting the painting. The image looks so familiar. I walk towards it, getting closer than I should’ve. The card below makes me grin. “2/14” by H. Brown. I knew he was creative, but wow.

I remember the setting. It was Valentine’s Day, the friend group had planned a big day together so none of us would be alone. Movies, chocolate, soda, friends. A result of Gwen’s chronic loneliness. Pav couldn’t come as he had already planned an extravagant date for Gayatri. Miles was grounded indefinitely. Gwen canceled at the last minute, never telling us why. I stared at the group chat message, standing in line to buy chocolates. I texted the group, a little pissed and put the chocolates back. Hobie had messaged me separately.

“i guess we’re both free then?”

“Looks like.”

“I wish she wouldn’t plan stuff if she's always this uncertain.”

“thats what I like about her”

“shes inconsistent.”

“Yeah, well now I have to return a shit ton of candy. “

“bring it by my place.”

“we can still hang out”

“right?"

“Okay.”“Give me twenty.”

I knocked on his window 30 minutes later, apologizing for the time. He grabbed the bags of candy and led me right back out the window. I followed him, down the rickety stairs and to the sidewalk. I asked him why we weren’t swinging. He told me to just look around, enjoy the noise. When we got deeper into the city, we climbed our way up to the roof of a building. Not the tallest building, one of regular size. We situated ourselves next to the edge, resting our elbows on the ledge. I had realized why he picked this site as we got up there. It faced a wide expanse of clear land. It faced the sunset. It wasn't as pink as it usually is, something I took as a direct middle finger to Valentine’s stereotypes. It was orange and purple. I told Hobie how the sky is probably the only thing that can blend those colors as beautifully without making a gross, muddy brown. I opened the bag of chocolates, said the sunset and sunrise were like crazy, natural RGBs, and adjusted the earbuds that fit loosely in my ears. He scoffed and we talked. We talked about how much Pav talks about Gayatri, about how moody it makes Gwen. How much Miles is going through. How nice it is to have other ‘webheads’ to confide in. We watched the sunset in silence, the window of time we devoted to staring at the colors darken.

This was that sunset. And I was wrong. The colors were strikingly accurate to my memory. A stylistic choice of gold foil and white highlights were so Hobie. It always seemed he added a little extra to everything in his mind. I grinned and took out my phone to take a picture. Once I was finished, I moved a bit quicker while browsing. I was hunting for something else Hobie had created. Something I could find about him that he hadn’t told me himself.

★★★

“Hobie, man! Amazing job!”

I felt a pair of hands clamp onto my back. I shook my head and smiled. I’ve been thanking a lot of people today. This has been something I signed up for to help out a friend. The food bank has done incredible things for this community, I’d do anything to keep the family upright. Seeing all these people show up and donate to the cause is reassuring. I took a tour myself after I helped set up. We hold a lot of potential here.

“They’re gonna love this, D.”

I tell Diana, the co-owner of the food bank as I stare around one of the rooms. She smiles, lines forming around her eyes. D is an older woman that had always checked in on me. She has patched up countless cuts on my face, made me innumerable bowls of soup, given me way too many pep talks and even more reprimands. She walks up to me and hugs me, wordlessly.

Now, as I stand in the lobby once I’ve checked in with everyone out back, I stay behind Diana, sitting in her chair and greeting more visitors. I keep to myself and hover to the side. A few people came by to exit, they had finished the walkthrough. They smiled at me.

“You made that sunset painting, right?” I cringe. D had been very liberal bragging about my art. I had been staring at my shoes for at least 20 minutes while she talked about how she’s known me since I was “a little monster.” Now, people recognized my name to my face.

“Yeah.” I answer shortly.

“It’s amazing. I love the story you tell. Good job.” The man says.

I smile, “Hey, thanks, man.” And wave goodbye as they walk through the door.

“Hobie!” D’s voice calls from a few meters away.

I turn towards her. She was now alone at the table. I walk over to her, “What’s up?”

“That painting. The one you insisted I hide in the back room. I still don’t know why you’d hide the most beautiful work you’ve-”

“What about it, D?” I roll my eyes.

“The person from the painting, I saw 'em.” Diana smiles. I furrow my brows and tilt my head.

“Huh?” Diana’s voice reverberates through my ribcage.

“They're here .” She grins, softly. If it were anyone else, it'd sound mocking. “They're a kind soul, I approve.”

My eyes slightly widen and my chest heaves in sudden panic.

“ What ? ”

★★★

I stare at the second Hobie painting I’ve found.

A box of chocolates is spilled out onto a concrete ledge.

“Bad Habit” by H. Brown.

A pocket knife sits next to a few crumbs of a chocolate bar, coated in caramel. The knife assumedly had cut the candy bar in half. Not in half, in like three quarters. That was my pocket knife and I remember everything. That night, I had opened the bag as we talked constantly, back and forth. I had opened a Twix and set it on the ledge.

“We go half?” He looked at me, reaching for the candy. I pulled out my pocket knife and flicked it open.

“Jesus, dude. You can have it. ”

I laughed loudly, I covered my mouth. “No! I’m gonna cut it in half. Sorry, I should stop pulling knives on people.”

He laughed, “That’s a habit of yours?”

I sighed dramatically, “A bad one.” Before cutting the Twix, it was completely disproportionate.

Remembering this made me smirk. I wondered why these moments had been memorialized. I continue looking back, wondering what else could be so special. I felt too bad to skip every other piece. I could tell time had been dedicated to the abstract oil pastel labeled “Tio.” I felt connected to the color pencil drawing of the Iris flowers. I couldn’t just walk past them selfishly. My eyes quickly scanned them, hastily coming up with my opinions on them and shuffling to the next. I read the labels and artists’ names and ages. I wander the rooms, they are small and large and the paint on the walls are all different colors of neutral. I admire the windows in the short hallways between rooms. The stained glass being a fitting, constant palette cleanser. I walk through what I believe to be the last room. This room stands surrounded by two other rooms to the left and right. The room is dimmer, I see a brighter light within.

When I walk into the room, the majority of the paintings are lit dimly by the main light at the opposite of the room. I stare at the canvas. It was a sizable canvas compared to every other that had been displayed. Slightly bigger. The one light used in this room was shined directly onto it. I walk towards it.

The painting was me. Literally, I was in the painting . It was a view of me from the side, my head only slightly turned towards the point of view. The darkening sunset before me, casting an orange glow on my face. The art style was choppy, no straight lines, everything lightly blended together. My face was clear, though. It was obviously me. I had cheap earbuds in, listening to music I refused to show him in fear of getting made fun of. The sunset had almost changed my eye color, it emphasized my eyelashes, highlighted my arms as they pushed my body up from the ledge. I was looking out past the roof and towards the sky. People below were blurred squares, a hundred feet below us. So ignorant, yet so important in this painting. I remember this. My breath was audible in the dead silent room. I breathed in and out, the exhale interrupted by a quick “Heh.” I looked at the card underneath.

“Dayplayer” by Hobie Brown

It was impossible to stop thinking about how this painting struck me. I saw how I was seen at that moment, watching the sunset with him. This was how he saw me on a random Valentine’s Day, on a random rooftop, with random street lights in the background. I hadn’t even noticed where his attention was, I was focused on the sky, on how my music would fit the moment. I was feeling the warm, humid air and was pissed that it wasn’t getting cooler faster.

I had no idea .

I couldn’t bring myself to see the other paintings until I could feel my fingers again. They were cold and almost numb, I had no idea how long I’d been sitting there staring. I turned to face the adjacent walls to find that every painting in this room was made by Hobie.

A painting of a mug of coffee on an unidentified table sitting next to a remote was labeled “Peak.”

A messy charcoal sketch of a pair of shoes: “Great Race.”

A pencil drawing of several objects, practice maybe. “Goodie bag.”

I go from paper to canvas, reviewing the details, recognizing themes. I am getting to understand how he sees the world. As vivid colors intrude black and white backgrounds, I hear a word behind me.

“ Hi .”

★★★

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lilylamps · 1 year ago

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SHRHRHRHRJRH

BLOODDDDD UNDERNEATH THE CUT

i want himf,,!,!.!,!

#acotar #azriel #azriel acotar #acotar fanart #piablabbers #HFJFJDHDJFJSKKEOEJEHR #a court of thorns and roses

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lilylamps · 1 year ago

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seapunk headcanons with long winded unnecessary explanations!!!

whwtegeahsh sorry if this is incoherent!!! (as always!!) i just like talking a lot!!!!! will be making a part two!!! cuz im,,,

crazy

-mayumi is a picky eater (like extremely picky)(AND THE INLY READON IS BECAUSE I AM AND IM PROJECTING)

- AND HOBIE IS NOT he is a firm believer in not wasting food because i’m like 98% sure he used to be homeless??? so i think he has a fear of not having enough food or starving or something idfk,,,!!,

- anyways he eats her unwanted food because she’s always like heyghehehUGHHHHHH 🙁🙁 when eating food she don’t like cuz texture and taste and UGH

- basically the olive theory

- he also eats her bread crusts cuz she doesn’t like bread crusts cuz she thinks they’re disgusting and inferior /hj?!?!!?!,,,

- he has this small habit of being protective over her BUT NOT IN LIKE AN ARGHHH ALPHA MALE 🐺🐺🐺‼️‼️TYPE OF WAY

- she’s just like kinda,,, clumsy

- so he does this thing where he’s helping her not like do anything stupid w/o her noticing

- like for example they’re standing near a railing watching stars she gets rlly excited cuz she sees a shooting star and leaning over the railing a bit to much for his liking, so he just like safely hovers his hand subtly over her back incase she falls

- or if she’s about to bump into something he gently moves her out the way or she’s abt to trip and he pulls her back by her collar softly because cuz she has no thoughts behind her eyes and is equivalent to a baby with no consciousness (JOKING but not rlly tbh she’s just fucking,,, stupid???? she’s very unaware even w her spider sense bru her spider sense is like the only reason she hasn’t been hit by an on coming car)

^^ them probably btw it’s so funny i love them

- hobie who loves aggressively and softly simultaneously????

- it’s versus the most wettest sloppiest biggest kisses and cuteness aggression about mc vs speaking to her gently and giving her the most whipped and gentle love struck look known to man kind whenever she’s not looking and little smooches

- they’re both equally as clingy,,, heueuegg but she gets embarrassed abt PDA cuz she’s,,, shyyeyeye,,,, so she tries to holding back???,?, but he does NOT cuz he has no decorum and doesn’t give a FUCK

- he rlly loves her cheeks thighs and tummy hehehrhryry (AGAIN NOT IN A WEIRD WAYYSYSY UGH)

- he just

- really likes how soft they are

- they’re so chubby he loves them!!

- they’re like pillows,,, ehehueue like wheneber he gets a chance to lay on her tummy or thighs he just SHNOREEEEEE MIIMIMIMIMIMIMI

- she is emotionally sensitive and fragile and hell???????????? BUT BUT BUT she has a weirdly high pain tolerance (might me a spidey thing idk yet)

- like she gets stab from a villain and she’s like ????? ow???? (NOT ACTUALLY it still hurts but she not like,, bawling from it,,, she’s more like why would u do that 🙁)

- but as soon as someone yells at her in a negative way she’s just

- 🙁

- ☹️

- 😔

- she is really emotionally unstable though cuz she??? doesn’t know how to deal w bad feelings???? SHE OVER THINKS A LOT

- yk the stupid fucking things cats do to get their owners attention by head butting them

-that’s her

-but real gentle

- just head buttin his arm or back or chest for attention

- also she’s kinda bad at like asking for things

- so she just communicates with really sad frowns and pouting and whining and heyehrhrhrhrhehhehe

- and he makes her use her words AGGRGRHRH IM NOT GONNA TYPE IT OUT CUZ ID FEEL CRING BUT YK WHAT IM TALKINV ABOUTTTT 👹👹

- this man is so fucking whipped for her

- and she is TOOOO

- this little shit (mayumi) CANNOT sleep w/o him because we all know her sleep schedule is shit and is fucked and is bad bad bad bad and she can only sleep w him or some kind of remnant of him

- BY REMNANT i mean like something that at least fuckin uhhrhr smells like him or something

- like she steals his band tees, vests, jackets, etc to sleep w or use as a pillow case cuz everything abt him is a sleeping aid for her

- and then he has to do like a shake down every two weeks because he’s somehow missing all his clothes!!! and so she has to surrender a whole closet of his clothes!!!!! (which i think she’d do anyways to like, rejuvenate the smell?? IDK YK WHAT IM SAYING) but summary she’s a little sneaky sneakster that steals his clotheshshd

-and i WOULD like to think she has a diy hobie build a bear of him,,, cuz im, crineg and i think stuffiesdj dedicated to s/o’s are cute 😖 like ik this bitch would buy fabric for this build a bear a make its own vest boots etc etc for it

- she also hides it religiously cuz she knows she will get flamed by him

- think i made a doodble of this a couple days ago but ummmnndhdb she likes singing him to sleep and he likes it too cuz he thinks he voice is nice and soft compared to the music he normalieyy listens too ifs just veryyr soft spoken

-def sings him to sleep if he has like spiderman nightmares and like kisses his tears away (if buddy even has any idk 🦅)

- it’s definitely the same other way around like he’d play her songs she likes on his old ass guitar (mayb his like, first one) and just comfort her or smthing

- ALOSO I SAW THIS THING AND IT WAS LIKE “you remind him of his first guitar” AND I WAS FREAKING OUR ABOUT IT BECAUSE SHE REALY IS LIKE HIS FIRSF GUITARF DUDE I RLLT CANT ELABORATE BUT BASICALLY SHE GIVES HIM THE SAME FEELINGS HIS FIRST GUITAR DID BECAUSE IT MADE HIM FEEL SAFE AND SECURE AND HE WAS ABLE TO EXPRESS HIMSELF FOR THE FIRST TIME W IT OR WHATEVER SHUTNUP

- ummm, their sleeping arrangement sucks balls

- CUZ ONE HOBIE IS STUPID AND BRITISH AND A FOOL so he cannotjr handle the hot when he’s sleeping ESPECIALLY IN HER UNIVERSE SHE ITS ALWAYS SWEATY AND HUMID (it’s literally just the philippines)

- NUMBER TWO SHE CANT SLEEP IF ITS COLD ESPECIALLY IN HIS UNIVERSE SHE NEEDS IT TO BE WARM AND ALWAYS HAS LIKE SEVEN LAYERS OF BLANKETS ON HER

-so one always wakes up frigid cold and shaking or the other wakes up at 3 am with a dry mouth in a hot sweat

- but they tend to take naps/sleeps(?) in hobies universe cuz for hobie it’s genuinely hell for him on her earth he’s burning he’s screaming he is NOT ballin

um!!! anyways!!!

lub u guys ☺️

#piablabbers #seapunk #loreruh

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lilylamps · 1 year ago

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mayumi not being able to have good things: a ramble

summary: mamas can’t have a debut or a goodnights sleep cuz her parents and guardians are DEAD (not proofread btw sorry if my words sound a lil jumbled)

Soo i just realized something REALLY fucking devastating about Mayumis lore and that is she never got to have her debut when she turned 18

A DEBUT IS BASICALLY A FILIPINO VERSION OF QUINCES BTW JUST FOR WHEN A FILIPINA TURNS 18 AND STUFF FOR CONTEXT

But yeah after basically all her guardians got yk (💀) she and her siblings were in a REALLY tough fucking financial spot (not like dirt poor cuz parents and tita may left behind a lot of money and stuff so they could survive (HER PARENTS WENT ON BUSINESS TRIPS OR JUST WORKED A LOT)) but they couldn’t really afford to many luxuries because Mayumi was trying really hard to be responsible at a really young age, and she never really spent money on herself until she joined the Society (WHICH IM ASSUMING HAS GREAT PAY AND IF NOT ILL RIOT)

ALSO TO CONTINUE ON THAT, when she first joined the Society she learned that doing missions and stuf paid the bills!! So dead ass she would burn herself out over this just to make ends meet TO LIKE THE POINT WHEN SHE WOULD COME HOME/TO THE SOCIETY LOOKING HALF FUCKING DEAD like actually disheveled and hasn’t had a good nights rest in 4 weeks cuz she works 24/7 365

SOO FAST FORWARD TO HER BUSTING OUT OF A PORTAL AND INTO MIGUELS OFFICE, LITERALLY ASKING HIM FOR ANOTHER MISSION LOOKING LIKE A ZOMBIE like she has those mappa animator eyebags actually 😭

AND HES JUST LIKE “????” and he’s literally asking her what’s wrong she’s literally asleep standing like mimimimi while mumble something about not being able to pay rent, needing more missions, etc etc

So he’s finally like “😐 holy shit go home and rest that’s an order, literally go to hobies universe and rest there” “but i need to pay my b-“ “ILL GIVE YOU A RAISE” “but i need to watch my sib-“ “ILL HIRE YOU A BABY SITTER”

and like after going back and forth she gives up and goes to hb’s universe and collapses on his bed and hb having to take care of her (he’s not complaining, tbh literally everyone was worried about her cuz she physically cannot stop working until she passes out) and then scolding her about having to take care of herself when she wakes up (basically hb helps her learn how to rest and take breaks and not work herself to death)

ANYWAYS IM THINKING ABT DRAWING HER IN A BIG ASS DRESS CUZ I FEEL RLLY BAD I COULDNT GIVE HER A DEBUT AND IM CRYJNG ABT THIS

#piablabbers

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lilylamps · 2 years ago

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mayumi angst/angst ideas but it’s not rlly coherent cuz a lot of it is outta order(tbh when is it even coherent):

tw ig for mentions of suicide and death??? (but i don’t write it as emotional or anything im just yapping)

also this isn’t proofread and i was delirious while writing it sooo sorry not sorry if it’s written stupid

-OKAY SO IN MY OPINION OF HER TRAUMAA shes very mitski coded as in like parental issues and age regression (IK THATS NOT THE CORRECT TERM (at least im pretty sure its not??? idk) BUT SINCE SHE WAS A KID SHES HAD TO ACT AND BE LIKE AN ADULT/MOM FOR HER SIBLINGS BECAUSE HER PARENTS WERE ALWAYS BUSY AND SHE HAD LIKE THE MAJORITY OF HER CHILDHOOD TAKEN FROM HER ESPECIALLY SINCE MAJORITY OF HER CARETAKERS ARE DECEASED SO SHE HAD TO TAKE CARE IF HER SIBLINGS ALONE) point is that she was forced to be an adult at her tween years and emotionally she’s still a child (im bad w words guys idk how to explain it)

- anywaysss to try and explain what i’m fucking on abt here r the lyrics:

(im crying????)

- but yeah the jist is she had her childhood stripped from her BOOOO 👎👎👎👎👎

- THIS IS WHY SHES SO FUCKING EMOTIONALLLL SHES EMOTIONALLY DAMAGED GUYS

- she’s also class of 2013 coded im just saying yall she just wants her mama even tho she was neglected

- SHE JUST WANTS PARENTAL LOVE GUYS

- but yes she’s also very class of 2013 coded:

- like even tho her mom like unalived herself, she still visits her grave out of respect and because she misses and loves her even tho she was neglected 2x (she values her family above anything else tbh)

- she constantly pines (???) for her childhood, wishing her parents would’ve stayed yk ALIVE DUH and would constantly wonder what it would be like if her parents actually parented 🧍🏽‍♀️

- also she had to give up everything she wanted to be so she could take care of her siblings full time and also be sea spider and also go to college (not sure if im actually gonna keep her in college tho so i might change that part of her lore, because idk how you can do all of that full time tbh IM NOT JN COLLEGE SO I WOULDNT KNOW)

- i think if i were to take her out of college, i’d think she do it to take care of her siblings, AND THATS WHY THE LINE “i’ll leave what im chasing for the other girls to pursue” (other girls meaning as in her family in general) BECAUSE SHES LEAVING ALL HER DREAMS BEHIND SO SHE CAN TAKE CARE OF HER FAMILYYYY and all she wants is for her siblings to be happy and successful so they don’t end up like her 🥲🥲 ITS GIVING IMMIGRANT MOTHERRR🔥🔥🔥

- also im thinking abt making her 16 yr old self walking in in her mom post unaliving herself cuz THATD be traumaaa

- my girl is STRESSED 24/7 365 but holy shit somehow she manages to stay positive all the time (it’s her siblings she loves them) and she’s constantly pretending that she’s all good and can handle it, being positive for her friends and siblings

- but her siblings like KNOW her and how she is even though she always tries to hide it, so they always try to make her life easier

- especially manny cuz dawg is very megumi coded (for my jjk fans out there), even though he doesn’t speak majority of the time he’s always trying to take care of her urgrhyrgr he’s cares abt her a lot

- also ime but she’s more silly than anything 😭😭 love herr sm 👹👹

- but Mayumi always tries to protect her siblings from the trauma she’s experienced, like w family deaths and stuff cuz she never wants them to go through what she’s going through

do you guys even care

do you guys even care abt my shitty hcs

DO YOU GUYS EVEN CARE ABT THEM AS MUCH AS J DO DAWG

DO YOU EVEN CAREEEEE

anyways good god thanks for listening to my rambles that never make sense

I APPRECIATE YOU SEAPUNK NATION 🔥🔥🔥

#piablabbers

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