#this is the shit that makes me envy the artists who are really good at one style and one style only

[genericpuff]

working on my biggest fix-it / "foefic" project ever

and i'm already stuck on the 'chronically overthink what style to draw it in' stage because ofc

[satubby]

[Once upon a dream: Where you were happy]

As once in the dream, where you forgot your memories by my side, I will still be waiting for you, so please just don't forget who you were … My precious daughter of man - Malleus Draconia

[Disclaimer: This may contain errors so I'm sorry if they bother you or confuse you when reading. I didn't think this would be so long, I will finish part 3 in a few weeks. Thanks for your support, credits to the fanart I use, if I find their artists I'll post them.]

Morning was rising outside but the curtains cast shadows in your room, then the doors opened and the maids came into your room, they were all making as much noise as ever, you sigh exhaustedly refusing to look at them. "Come on princess, get up, today is your 16th birthday" One of them said, pulling you out of bed.

"I'm coming, I'm coming... It's too early for this" You sigh, getting up and heading to the powder room, you swallowed your bitterness smiling like the 'worthy and pretty princess' you were, then the maids. did their job starting to comb your hair. Your gaze was distant and you constantly clutched your dress, you were beautiful yes, but you honestly didn't care.

"Ouch, damn it" You whisper, feeling their eyes constantly on the back of your head. 

"Watch your mouth princess" murmured one, they continued brushing your hair and making you presentable, they always made sure you looked good. As you sat there, the doors opened again and a tall figure walked in. It was the housekeeper serving the queen, she entered haughty and powerful, all the maids in your service began to murmur. "Please hurry princess, you wouldn't want to embarrass the emperor and empress, would you?" 

You almost wanted to wring his neck but you knew better than to do stupid things. So you stood up without paying attention to his 'reprimand' and bowed your body politely, bowing your head as well, after all, you were a princess without any power.

 "Yes, thank you for letting me know...I assure you I only wish the best for the kingdom and the imperial family" She looks you with that very, very stiff and bitter face. After that incident like every morning, you moved towards the emperor's castle because you lived in the empress castle, farther than any other room, you used to live in the basement where they put weapons and old stuff but it was something. 

Walking down the hall, your arrival is announced, with trumpets and a red carpet. You know they're just pretending, no one gives a shit if you got in or not.

"ATTENTION!!! THIS IS THE INCOMING HEIR PRINCESS!" closing your eyes you enter with dignity as you were taught, you felt the pressure on your being before those judging eyes of the pompous nobles, so you tried not to look bad. Some looked at you with barely concealed disgust, others simply didn't look at you and the rest whispered like silly little birds cackling incessantly amidst rumors and gossip. 

Your strides echoed with the sound of the floor as you walked towards the rulers of this place you hated to call home; the looks they gave you were either filled with disgust or filled with envy as they stepped aside to make way for you. The hall in front of you slowly filled with people after you walked away and approached the throne on the platform. 

The emperor was sitting upright on his throne, next to him was the empress, looking majestic and presumptuous, as always. The empress smiled slightly as you knelt before them, both extended their hands waiting for a kiss from you, most of all it was the woman before you who gave you that silent command.

The empress stroked your hair with false kindness when you complied with her order, still with her smile on her face she continued to enjoy your humiliation, it disgusted you to look like a mere dog... And the emperor didn't even do anything, he never really cared about you. 

"Happy sixteenth birthday my dear.... Now I hope you won't do anything to make us sad; or would you like to see her highness disappointed?" Her lips brushed your lobe warning you with sincere malice, then she walked away from you smiling as if nothing had happened, you didn't even react, you knew what she wanted, you wouldn't give her that.

"Thank you for- Your worries, your highness and beloved emperor.... I wish you good vibes and I hope you live long!" With those words, you forced a forced smile swallowing your little pride and the bile in your throat felt bitter. You sincerely praised yourself, since you were good at acting, you had to do it if you wanted to survive. 

Again the emperor looked at you without interest and gave you permission to leave, so you did and like every year, you were alone on your birthday, the gifts were not really for you, much less was this party... And honestly you had long ago stopped giving it importance. 

Once he gave you permission to leave, you could leave the throne room and get away from this heavy atmosphere that only made you feel sick and want to vomit because of so much hypocrisy in the air. Although before you managed to get out of sight you could hear the nobles start whispering and gossiping behind your back. 

They were noisy, much louder than a rooster would be at morning crowing time, but what could you do? Nothing and just thinking about them gave you headaches. You continue down the halls, with a couple of maids walking behind you who don't care for you either. They never really liked you, so they just followed you as their job ordered, even you wouldn't want to be with yourself, you were a bitter mess. 

"Please leave me alone, okay? I need air" You turned around stopping at the entrance towards a balcony. They look at you confused but they care so little about you that they better bow and leave, you on the other hand headed for the nearby balcony, stretching your legs and leaning your body against the marble railing.

Looking down at the ground, you let out sighs and snorts, then unleash your usual attitude of resignation and rebellion, only being alone you can say or do the little you can, the little freedom you had.  

 "Fuck those fucking nobles, I didn't even want to come— Fucking loudmouths, they're just vultures hoping I'm wrong, honestly... GO TO THE FUCK THEM ALL!! That fucking housekeeper, the emperor and the fucking empress!.... Anyway, I hope this day ends soon"

You let your head fall on your shoulders, looking resigned to your situation, you were sick of following these stupid rules. A lady doesn't do this, a lady doesn't do that— You are at your limit and yet you can only complain to yourself or suffer your punishments. 

Your eyes unconsciously looked at parts of your body, you bit your lips in frustration.... Those scars still hurt, but you had to bear them because that made you a princess- Although honestly you always had that doubt, Did princesses really do that? In your stories it was something else. But laughing, remind yourself that they are just that, stories annnnd, since you were a child you didn't know who you were before coming here, you were always told what to say or do, as you were foolish and naive, you blindly followed in fear of that damned bitch of an empress. 

You were the puppet in her theatrical play, used and punished if something didn't go her way. Sometimes you wanted to kill her, but you'd rather keep your neck in your body. No one would help a dirty blood like you, a stupid girl with no connection or power whatsoever plus your stupid insignificant elven powers weren't even strong you could only heal scrapes or make little lights because according to rumors; your dead mother wasn't a complete elf. 

"These heels burn so much, maybe I should throw them away... But that damn woman will punish me if I do. It's a real shame my birthday sucks and the weather is so nice, which is ironic because I'm a mess."

You drop your body onto a nearby table, playing with your fingers, you didn't know at what point you started to fall asleep. 

While you were dozing on that table, lost in a kind of dream, you began to feel like you were floating in the air, reality became a dream and vice versa. At some point you opened your eyes in a strange place, it was all white and there was only you, but your body was shining, as if the stars had given you their remains to make you shine.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the giggling of a little girl, a very familiar one, that hair and tattered clothes were familiar even though you couldn't see her face. 

"Hello? ... How strange, I swore I heard something-"

You scratched your eyes thinking you were still hallucinating. You had just fallen asleep and didn't know how you got here. 

"Haha... Nyum!"

There it was again, that childish giggle attracted you again, then turning towards where it came from, you saw a completely white silhouette standing in the middle of the void. 

"Hey girl, what are we doing in this place and-? Wait!" You exclaimed starting to follow her, as she started to run, the emptiness started to change. 

The more you ran, the more it changed, the ground felt soft as you now stepped on clouds. Tall mirrors filled your vision like a maze, then again you heard the girl's giggle. 

"Haha! You can't catch me.."

Your eyes followed her silhouette in confusion, she was as energetic and elusive as... You, from childhood. You didn't know why, but you began to follow her, all these hallways of mirrors reflected both figures. 

"Girl don't run! Ugh, just tell me what this place is, fuck I just wanted to sleep and I ended up here!"

Sighing tired from so much running, you stop to rest, however something caught your attention; some mirrors were worn or broken, others simply had nothing to reflect. 

And the farther away you went the darker this place became, you two glowed as the darkness swallowed you. Then you see her entering a specific mirror, it was full of thorns and wilted roses, this place was silent, her giggling stopped being heard, slowly you went towards that mirror. 

"That girl- How strange, she took me all this way just to see this mirror?"

You whisper without understanding this strange dream, if it was one to begin with. 

So lost were you in your thoughts, that you don't even notice when your hand goes through the mirror and you are swallowed by it, unlike others, this mirror is dark as much as the the glass it was made of as its withered wooden frame. 

Screaming as you fall, you feel the air seep into your tresses shaking and making a mess of it, your dress suddenly changed as you landed in a brutish thump.

With pain in your body, you slowly got up spitting grass, that strange fall made you feel like Alice falling down the rabbit hole. Slowly you could stand up on your own feet, you were without shoes which seemed strange but what did you expect? This dream is strange in itself. 

"I must stop getting so much in my head— come to think of it, where did that mirror take me?"

You turned around looking at your surroundings, however the girl glimpsed out of the corner of your eye again, laughing at you and making you angry. 

"HEY COME BACK HERE YOU SHATTERING BRAT!"

Now you felt like the empress every time you yelled at the silhouette. Fuck! Some habits stick with people. 

She kept running into the mist of this dark forest, with you following behind her, the branches on your feet and the wildlife of the place making you scrape, but it didn't matter. You wanted to know how to get out of this place. 

"Jijiji! I'm faster than you..." Whispered the brat, her silhouette running and when you finally came out of the dark forest, the light filled her eyes blinding you. When the effect passed, you stopped thinking for an instant, this whole place was magnificent and magical, but the girl was gone. 

In its place, the vast tulip field filled your view, in the middle of it and far away on the hill, lay a beautiful oak tree the size of the most pompous castle presumably held by royalty. 

Mesmerized by this magnificence, you walked down the hill, it was a few more meters but something guided you to the oak tree. The closer you got, you heard a deep and melancholic voice singing.

Its beautiful whistling caught your attention, the closer you got the better you saw someone's back and— That little girl sitting next to her. 

Never thought that you would be Standing here so close to me There's so much I feel that I should say But words can wait until some other day

Both were relaxing on a chair made of wood and flowers as a handle, the stranger kept singing; for some reason his voice gave you a familiar but pleasant peace, you didn't know why or how, but you keep watching them swinging. 

It's been a long, long time Haven't felt like this, my dear Since can't remember when It's been a long, long time You'll never know how many dreams I've dreamed about you Or just how empty they all seem without you

The wind was blowing away the colorful petals of the field full of those tulips, you standing still in the tall grass, mesmerized by the whistling of that stranger, still looking at the girl, they seemed so comfortable with each other.

It's been a long, long time It's been a long, oh long time

And then that song stopped, breaking like a spell as well as your illusion, for just as the figure turned, his face could not be seen for he silenced you, causing thousands of tulips to cover your vision. 

"WAIT PLEASE! Who are you—" 

With an abrupt silence, you were left in the emptiness of before, broken glass halves scattered on the floor surrounded your feet, the girl was gone, only you and that hall of mirrors remained. 

Sighing, you pick up several pieces and your fragmented reflection looks back at you.

Your thoughts stop when you feel someone pull you out of that place and your eyes open as you feel the pain of a slap. Your eyes immediately went to those responsible for that: The maids in the service of the empress, who don't even look sorry for having done such a thing.

"Hey, you know you shouldn't sleep like that in public, you should be ashamed of yourself? What if the nobles gossip about you? hahahahaha." 

You clutched your reddish cheeks due to the hard slap, you growl silently wanting to do something but you just bit your lip in anger and swallowed it with 'dignity', which was the only thing you really had left; nothing belongs to you nor did anyone in this palace seem to take your position seriously.

You are just an ornament for the empress and a sack of potatoes for others to vent their frustrations. You had nowhere to go, if you left they would surely kill you, because the dirty blood should not live. 

"Please, couldn't you be less rude, Tsk! If you were seen slapping me, wouldn't you go unpunished? I'm still the emperor's daughter. It's frowned upon for a commoner to hit a noble, let alone royalty like me" You sneered with measured sarcasm, if they wanted to pull shit against you, you'd mess with them, it's all or nothing.

Your joke made them turn pale, the other maid behind gasped and took a step back. The one who slapped you swallowed as she quickly pulled herself together. They did not want the wrath of the empress if such rumors began to circulate, their necks, and perhaps yours, would roll. 

"You should be grateful princess because I have not yet reported your attitude to our noble empress, be good and we can forget about this incident" They said with a smile on their faces, the other nodded his head as the speaker held his face confidently, as if he had all the power in the situation, but his eyes reflected the fear and falsity of his words.

If they did that, they would pay more than you, a simple spanking would not be mere punishment for commoners like them, on the contrary for you, who you would be 'disciplined' for your indecency as a noble, 

However, you were interrupted by the empress's housekeeper (that damned boot-licking spy) She advanced towards you and all the maidens present bowed in fear, the two in front of you also trembled. 

"Now ladies don't make a fuss in the middle of the balconies and princess let's avoid making a fuss, please if you are not going to do anything at the party then go back to your room. As for you as maids, you have permission from the empress to discipline her, but don't overdo it..." She looked at you with cold condescension, as if she were superior. Biting your lips, you force a smile crumpling your dress in anger but swallow it all, smiling politely and standing up, wiping your dress and bowing.

 "Thank you, I will follow that sage advice, as you always know what to do, with your permission." Annoyed and frustrated once again, you left in anger and your footsteps echo loudly through the empty corridors of this place, listening to the maids laughing at you, as always.

Those damn maidservants, they always had something to say, didn't they? Laughing and talking behind your back every chance they got. Then there were those damn nobles, they were all the same, looking down on you. They always had something to comment on, whether it was your looks, your status or how you behaved. In the end you were just a trophy to them. A princess just to show off, nothing more.

Your thoughts were diverted by the sounds of the party, soon the second waltz would begin. But even if you were to go there, you would not be welcome, which is silly and ironic because this party is for you but no one actually congratulates you, the bitch empress steals every birthday you had, only to receive praise for her benevolence towards you... A bastard with dirty half elven blood.

 "Phew, at least this day is winding down." 

You sighed again as you vaguely thought about your dream, but you were more curious about that stranger, you didn't understand why he sent you back to reality, nor did you know why that girl led you there. In the end you walked down the hallway ignoring the lights and the drunks, it was like that every year, just nobles inflating their egos and gossiping behind each other's backs.

Hallways full of drunks were nothing new to you. Every year the parties ended the same as the others, with drunks and gossiping nobles. You couldn't wait for it to end, you always found it exhausting and annoying. Yet here you were, standing in the middle of the hallway with all these drunken fools around you... Surely there were some fucking and eating with lust around. 

"Hello princess!" 

A voice called out behind you, one you sadly recognized from all the years you had lived in the palace living with the nobles.

The stupid, disgusting son of Marquis Duboff, that dog rather than a man, always insisted on touching you and then complained when you refused. Snarling at fate, you tried to run away from him but he grabbed your hand and cornered you on the wall almost going out to the stairs. "Come on princess! Don't be like that, the other time I saw you flirting with other men, maybe the little slut can't help strutting around and wanting to fuck cock? You can't fool me, I know you like it—!" 

Drunk breath filled your nose, you wanted to vomit. His smell and everything about him disgusted you, so when he held your wrists, you kicked him in his private parts, you were irritated beyond belief.

"Tsk! When are you going to understand that I HATE YOU? You're a garbage existence, so.... If you'll excuse me, m-a-r-q-u-i-s!" With those words, you fixed your dress, you could be cheeky and follow orders for your own survival... However, you weren't going to play along with his games, that human excuse was a stubborn and pathetic being because you didn't want to call him a man when the vacancy was too big for him. 

This one knocked you down putting his hands in your hair, you in defense tried to shake him off but in the end between pulls, he knocked you down hitting you in the face and calling you an ungrateful bitch.

The blow threw you to the ground and to the side, sending you stumbling into a wall, you almost died if you fell badly down the stairs. You clutched your cheek as a groan of pain escaped you and, of course, the pathetic bastard was still standing there mockingly.

"You're not going anywhere princess, even though you act like an ungrateful bitch...I'm sure you'll soon come to your senses when you see that I can be gentle..." 

He sneered at you as he looked down at you from his elevated position holding an entire bottle of wine. His smile grew as he took a step closer to you, striding over and drinking. 

Then he started fighting you when you pushed him back wanting to leave, and he had the audacity to call you a spoiled brat, when IN YOUR LIFE! You've had some of that, anything you wanted was squashed and used as an excuse to make you less or crush your spirit. 

"STUPID BITCH!", you hear him yell as you poked his eye with your fingernails, in an attempt to stop him from taking your clothes off. He finally smashes the bottle on your head, making you blurry and blood dripping from your wound. 

You couldn't stand it any longer and you ran away crying, not out of sadness or helplessness (maybe it was that, but you would never say it out loud) but mostly it was rage, pure and undiluted. You felt pathetic, a fragile doll that broke for someone else's enjoyment.

"Fuck all of you... Ick! You guys are assholes" You clench your fists drawing blood from your wound with a torn piece of cloth from your now torn dress and head to your room, well, those fancy furnishings and decor really couldn't be called a room, it wasn't yours to begin with, just a guest room modified to mimic that of a room for royalty. 

Still, you decided it was better to go to your old, dirty and abandoned 'room', which was just the basement where they kept junk and rusty weapons. As you enter, you close the door, dropping into a crouch and hugging your legs, enclosing your face in your dress breaking that elegant facade into sadness and anger. 

You were exhausted and tired, very tired of everything, of everyone. Running away from the damn marquis, from the empress, from the nobles. You just wanted to be free, to be happy and find a place to just... be, instead of being a princess forced to live in a damn box and be judged or belittled for every little action.

Sighing as you sat there in that dusty old room, tears streaming down your face as you hid in your dress, you continued to wander in your thoughts. You felt alone, cut off from anything good or happy in this damned place, if there was any happiness in the falsehood of nobility to begin with. 

Your snot was running from your nose, your makeup was smeared and you didn't care at the time, you just wanted it all to be over. Sometimes you were angry at your dead mother, you blamed her for your useless elven blood running through your veins. You would even cut yourself to try to get it out and stop being a dirty blood, but all you get were injuries with punishments from the empress, you honestly don't know when was the last time you smiled or if you ever did, 

You wanted to keep hating her, she's a mother who never saw you grow up, but you didn't want to be like them, just another human, someone who pretends and discriminates against others just because. It would be hypocritical of you to do so, but sometimes you just want to scream and hate them freely, but it's stupid to do that and you just put your anger aside.

"It's useless, everything is the same every year, what did I expect this time? Mother, is my existence wrong? They just use me and throw me away when I'm not useful. I'm getting tired, how much longer can I go on with this performance?" You cried rubbing your eyes and wiping your smeared makeup with your dress, it was ruined anyway. 

Your eyes wandered around the room, looking at old dusty furniture and consumed by time, now they are blurred memories. If you think about it, in the past for some reason, you used to write letters to someone, hoping they would take you away from this place, but those hopes are ephemeral like happiness. 

You continued to sit there and cry, your feelings of hopelessness and anger pouring out. The makeup on your face was ruined, but you didn't care, it would be just another reason for the empress to call you a savage, mocking you. 

The zero memories of your childhood or the existence of your mother, your life here, everything came over you. It was very hard to face it all, very hard to hold out hope for any kind of happiness for yourself. After all, you were nothing more than a princess in a cage.

For a moment, the sensation you felt in that dream made you think of the stranger, and the memory came to mind, the magical and serene sight. It is contrary to how you felt now.

The moonlight illuminated the old dusty room, your eyes for some reason went to the old table, many broken drawings on it, for a moment you saw yourself as a child writing right there, however something blinded you like a light in your eyes. Curious you get up going to the table, the last time you were here living and sleeping you were exactly 11 years old, so you had left everything the same as when you left. 

"What the hell—?" Your gaze went to the pieces of paper, then moving them you coughed through the dust that was released after years in neglect and, shaking it with your hand— A strange piece black as darkness received you, the one that has accompanied you in your life since you are conscious until you forgot it, and if not for today you would still be in oblivion of its existence. 

Then, when you took it, an energetic discharge came from the tip to your head, giving you headaches and like a vague memory, you were pulled towards that vision, but it was blurred, what you knew was that you were in a forest. Your hands were small but you did not control this memory and this childish body.

Your ears perked up as you heard your own voice laughing, but it sounded more animated. Sometimes you think the current you is so different from your childhood self, less bitter and miserable. 

"M■□ll■s-sama, it's unfair that you always let the human win!" 

Another voice interrupted your diatribe and in turn you recognized that it was male, of course with a youthful and scandalous touch. A familiar laughter made you open your eyes in this dream(?), then that stranger whose name you did not fully understand, answered the other man, strangely you did not see who they were, because in this memory you were still hiding behind a tree.

"S□b■k, don't be hard on her, besides I don't want to make her feel bad, my ■□■■■□ is important" Your giggles kept coming out as your eyes made you expectant in this strange dream, just sharing vision with this uncontrolled childish body. The strangers behind the tree, shrouded in mystery, continue to argue. 

'What are they talking about?'

You thought to yourself, not your dream self, just your current self. Strangers are still looking for you, you looked like you were 5 years old by the size and high pitched giggles you let out. And that was before you came to the palace, what was not clear to you about this situation and your past self which you didn't remember much, so you are not understanding anything.

The two voices kept talking as the you in this memory peeked out for seconds, unable to really see their faces due to the speed at which you were hiding. You were looking from your childhood perspective, hiding in a tree and laughing to yourself, it all seemed less difficult if you thought about it. The other two males seemed to be looking for you, still arguing as they looked around the area.

Your childhood self seemed cheerful, again you wondered if she was really you or if she was just a past fragment. You looked happy, as if you were having fun playing some kind of game with these strange men. What were they talking about, and why did it seem so familiar, you didn't know, but it hurt your chest to hear yourself laugh. 

Since you came to the palace the childish games were over; so seeing this broke you in a certain way. Then you felt big hands taking the shoulders of your childish self, you laughed and named the stranger, but again the seemingly important words or names were cut off and erased, fragments remained of that stage of yours, which you did not know. 

"T■un□■ta□■u! hehehe you found me.... You were 3 seconds faster, though it's unfair because S■b□k always complains" Your words and voice were lively, sweeter and in comparison to the bitter words for this life you were leading. The stranger whose face was covered by the sunlight because you were in his arms, his shadowed face looked at you, his fanged lips smiled at you. 

His fangs glistened as a smile broke out on his face, laughing at your childish words. His voice was soft and warm, but no less gravelly and elegant, almost like the glow of the incandescent sun on you in the dream.

"You were well hidden, I could hardly find you. But I know your usual hiding places, little ch□■dr□n ■□ m■n." He said with lightness in his voice. One of his big hands moved to stroke your head, tousling your hair as he said this. Even though it was hidden behind the blinding light of the sun, you could still make out its outline....

It had a rather strange silhouette, horns coming out of its head and long wings behind it, something you only saw in forbidden books.... A dragon, but it didn't make sense that it was humanoid. 

In fact this whole situation confused you, unfortunately you came back to reality when the darkness swallowed you and you fell to the ground with a sharp blow, the dragon's scale no longer shining as brightly as before. You got up carefully, you were a mess in every sense of the word if you looked at yourself in a mirror. 

Picking that thing up carefully, you wonder if this is what made you see that. Are those your memories from when you weren't here? But it didn't make sense, the empress said she found you with two elderly brothers who were farmers, so why - why were you having these weird flashbacks? 

You sat on the old bed, holding the dragon scale in your hand and looking at it. Your head was throbbing and your thoughts were a mess. That vision... it was so vivid, like a memory... But how could it be a memory? You come from those farming families, the empress herself had said so... Though knowing her character, she could lie to you as she did about your mother's death. 

Those two men in the vision, you couldn't make out any details about them. But why did you feel so close to him in that dream? Besides you had already seen him when you fell asleep on the balcony, is everything connected...?

"Phew, I better go or I might get punished... But I can't leave this here, if they come to clean up, which is rare, they might see it, maybe I should take everything left of this old place" You put the dragon scale in your secret pocket inside your breasts, just when you were about to leave, you also saw the letters hidden under so much trash and dust. Some were torn and some were stained with ink. 

Your look is nostalgic, really when you were a simple and silly girl you didn't know how to hide things. So you took them, on your way out you took caution in looking both ways down the dark subway corridor and when you saw the shores clear, you left.

You exited the subway, making sure that no one was there, before leaving. As you did so, you returned to your room as quietly as possible. You hoped that the party was over and everyone was too drunk to notice your absence... 

As you walked through the halls, your mind kept thinking about that memory, if it was one. You had so many questions about it, about your past self and who you really were before you turned 6. It was so clear, so real... But who were they? What if... Was it all a strange fantasy of yours? Now you have a faint fragment of hope in you, even if it's vain and selfish. 

Your thoughts are interrupted by the empress waiting for you in your room, you panicked hiding the old letters and anything suspicious, she looked at you with false elegance and the lunar shadow did not help your fear to diminish.

"W-what are you doing here? I thought you were with the emperor"

You whisper avoiding looking at her, she stood up, unaware that there was your faithful maid. A maid who barely entered months ago and quickly befriended you with insistence; but that doomed her like many. Now she's dead on the floor, again you lost another ally, though you tried to prevent anyone from coming to you, trying to be nice when you couldn't afford that, it's a weakness the empress would exploit. 

Said woman continued to look at you with a cold stare, the false elegance on her face unchanged.

"Watch your tone of voice, princess." He said in a cold voice. His cold green eyes scanned you, observing your ragged and disheveled appearance with an almost mocking look on his face.

"I heard about what happened between you and the marquis earlier, my dear." You swallowed bile cursing everyone and her for that false sweetness in her voice. She took a step towards you and her tone quickly changed to a higher pitched one.

"You know how much I despise it when you embarrass me like that."

Her hands went to your bare, messy shoulders, your hair was ragged and that only added to her condescending tone, mocking your messy appearance. You bit your lips, she knew everything, she always does. You're more sure that damn dog Duboff made a fuss complaining about you, you just expected the worst in situations like that.

 "W-what's wrong with it, Your Highness? I only defended myself, or are you afraid of rumors? For example... That you don't take good care of me, and even if I AM THE EMPEROR'S DAUGHTER! You still treat me badly-" Her nails finished digging into your skin as a warning but you were so fed up that you continued.

"And yes I did, I don't give a damn anymore anyway, that dog deserved it! He's a scumbag, he wanted to abuse me, hahaha you don't even care about my image, only yours and your ego-Urgh!" A slap echoed in the empty room. The empress snarled with a contorted face, you laughed internally as you watched her lose her composure, she was a fucking bitch to you. 

It was quite satisfying to see the empress lose her composure in this way. Her face contracted in anger, a complete contrast to her normally reserved and cold demeanor. She had just slapped you, leaving a red mark on your cheek.... but you couldn't help but laugh at this. Seeing her lose control like this was almost funny.

The empress snarled at your laughter, the anger and irritation clear on her face. She moved closer to you, grabbing your hair and tugging on it. 

"How dare you talk to me like that... You're a dirty bastard blood!"

The empress's face was now contorted with anger, frustration and humiliation. After all, how dare you speak to her like that, especially at a party meant to celebrate her benevolence? You should thank her for even existing, but here you were like a brazen rat. 

"You ungrateful, insolent bitch!" She spat, tugging at your scalp and grabbing your cheeks hard so you could look her in the eye. 

"How dare you speak to me like that, I who have given you everything! Your position as princess, your meals, your clothes, let it be clear to you that you are inferior to me, without my help the emperor wouldn't care about you!"  

"... I didn't want to be this! Do you know how many nights I starved to death just because you and those maids wanted me to? You don't know anything, my life is not really mine but I'm running out of patience, even when I wanted to run away, you didn't let me... I begged you, but no more!"

"You're a-" Her hand reached up to hit you again but when you tried to pull away she only abused you more until it hurt all over, then complained about your rebelliousness and savagery.

He continued to prattle on about your insolence, debating whether he should kill you or not, but decided to leave, only punishing you by locking you in the room and ordering that no one was to come in or go out to feed you for a week. 

You got up when she left, she might as well kill herself and you wouldn't care. After a while, you changed your clothes after a relaxing and decent bath, no insults or dirty water. You were self-sufficient enough, since you were treated like a maid when you first arrived, you did everything. 

At the end of the night you lay staring at the letters on your bed, those letters written by you that for some reason you don't quite remember why you did it. "Ahh... what a day this was." 

You were left in your room, alone once again. The empress had left you with a burning cheek and a week of hungry solitary confinement. But it didn't matter, you were used to it.

With slow steps to the bed, you plopped down on the bed and then settled in, your eyes drifting to the old letters scattered on the bedspread. They were written in childish scribbles, but somehow they had some meaning. Why did you write this? And to whom? You had long forgotten the reasons behind it... You had priorities, like not dying for that woman's whims. 

With nothing to do, you decided to read them, starting with the one with the oldest date and paper. The letter began somewhat disorganized, it read like this:

March 23, first date of the solar calendar.  'It happened again today, I miss you Tsunotarou so much..... Mairy yelled at me again, you know, I know I'll never give you these letters but I hope someday to see you so I can read them for you, although I think it's more for convenience.  Nobody wants me here, I shouldn't have run away from home, Uncle Lilia was right. Humans are not the same, much less easy to understand. They are like me, physically they are but they don't act like I thought they would. Everyone says I'm a dirty blood worse than a commoner, Sebek was right when he said we are bad, but I'm not like that.  

Your expression softened but mostly out of confusion and the feeling that comes from reading this. So that's what the nickname you were talking about in the dream was... That silhouette was Tsunotarou? You didn't know but your head hurt thinking about it and even for some reason you got stuck trying to say that nickname, but still you continued reading.

 April 16 of the solar calendar  'I'm very sad, I hardly remember Uncle Lilia anymore, I'm very afraid. Tsunotarou... what if I forget you too? I don't want that, so I'll keep writing letters, so maybe my adult self will read them, I hope everything gets better, because today they made me mop the floor and the housekeeper punished me for something I didn't do. The older maids threw water and cow dung on my floor, when I had already cleaned it, I really want to come back to you Tsunotarou'.

Your expression became somewhat inexplicable, you felt the tears fall again for no apparent reason, you did not understand this feeling. Perhaps compassion for your previous innocent self, who was hurt and crushing your spirit to become what you are today.

The cards only continued to get worse. Your past self was young and innocent, so full of optimism and hope, but instead was only met with suffering. She was treated like dirt, forced to do tasks she wasn't cut out for, and others around her bullied her...and no one did anything to stop it. Your heart ached as you read the letter from your past self, and tears streamed down your face as you read it.

You clenched the letter tightly in your hand, your heart felt heavy in your chest... You didn't know if you wanted to keep reading because you were honestly so devastated by the constant abuse you've normalized, but reading all this just makes you feel sorry for yourself. 

Still, you catch a glimpse of one letter in particular lying on the corner of your bed, it's crumpled and musty as if it had been wet. Trembling you pick it up reading it and it just opens up another memory you had blocked out for yourself.

XX December of ... ??? 'Tsunotarou... I no longer remember why or why I am writing this, who are you, that I am writing this to you? I don't know, maybe it was all a dream and you, Tsunotarou whoever you are, don't exist. Last week I was caught trying to escape, but I don't remember the reason for it. Honestly it's all confusing so I'll stop writing these meaningless letters. I just know I've been hiding them, so I have to respect that about myself.... Well, this is goodbye. 

Now you remember! This is the last letter you wrote, you only know you finished it because of the first line, that nickname, you wrote it weeks before and you don't remember much. Suddenly your head starts to hurt and you get a lot of cut memories that make you cry in pain.

As you read that last letter, you were hit with a flood of memories. They came back vividly, but it was still a little fuzzy in your mind. 

You remembered why you wrote the letters. You were writing to him, that man you played with in the woods in your dream. You remembered him... and you remembered his nickname. Tsunotarou. Even the mere thought of it made your head throb. But as the memories slowly came back, you couldn't help but sob at the truth of all the events and the realization of it. 

What little you know of this is due to the only clues you had. With determination, you were determined to seek the truth behind your whole life and your lost happy childhood, so these days where the empress locked you up, you would flee through the secret corridors you had discovered in this room since you lived in it. 

Wandering the aisles of the library in the middle of the night, you were looking for books on magic or creatures of that kind, which were burned years ago by the wars, it was hard to find them. 

Despite feeling so tired, your heart was beating with determination. You knew you had to find the answers behind everything. It was time for you to find out the truth about your past and the real reason why you were here. You had so many questions running around in your mind....

But it was already late and you could already feel the tiredness invading your body after searching the library, so you walked with your books in hand through the corridors until you reached your room. With a tired sigh, you lay down on your bed, thoughts still running through your head as you slowly drifted off into an intermittent sleep...

And so for the rest of the week, you went to the basement to see if there was anything else but there was not. Then you rummaged through the housekeeper's room finding the strange bag that you now had in your room, in front of you. 

There was a strange old stuffed animal, some exotic flowers you didn't know about, a map crumpled and yellowed from years but most surprising were the many dragon scales in a jar. 

This was definitely yours, but why would you have this here? It didn't make sense and besides there were 2 books downstairs, one had drawings of 4 men, three of them with pointed ears and one was like the silhouette in your dream, with horns. 

The other was a human like you but wore a uniform; also, the second book had strange spells in it. The spell book was like the few pieces of page you found in the library on the hidden side. Thoroughly checking between pages, you saw a piece of paper with something written on it, there was also a drawing made by you most likely, underneath the apparent lullaby. 

Something about the drawing of the horned man seemed strangely familiar to you, though you didn't know why. Maybe there was a connection between him and that man in your dream... Curious, you read the writing on the paper, although due to the bad handwriting and scribbles on it, it was difficult to read.

You let go of the paper from your hands because your head started to hurt, a male voice echoed in your erased memories. It was a quiet place, a comfortable bed and finally you saw black tinted lips and fangs, he sang you that song but again, his face was blurred. 

You gripped the paper once again tighter, your head throbbing from the strange memory that came over you. The memory was fuzzy, but it was still clear enough that you could make out the vague silhouette of a man, fangs and lips tinged with black. He was singing that song to you, his voice soft and comforting.

Te agarraste la cabeza, tratando de recordar más, pero el dolor de cabeza sólo pareció empeorar. ¿Por qué tus recuerdos volvieron repentinamente a ti una vez más, y fue realmente Tsunotaoru, el hombre que te parecía tan familiar...? No lo sabías así que simplemente te volviste a dormir, cayendo profundamente

The breeze on your face welcomes you back, dazed you open your eyes seeing that you were now on a marble table near the oak tree. Confused you wake up and this time you see that you are not a teenager, more like a girl, this confuses you a lot.

Walking aimlessly, you hear in the distance in the same oak tree or further on, in the tulip field, someone singing, that same song you read in that paper.

I know you I walked with you once in a dream I know you That look in your eyes is such a familiar gleam. And I know it's true, that visions are rarely what they seem.

The tune was different, but undoubtedly it is the same voice and the same place as when that little girl in the dream led you there, the same person singing that lullaby. 

But I know you I know what you will do You will love me once and for all As you once did in a dream

You kept moving forward, the smell of flowers filled your nose and as if taking the place of the girl who you assume is your inner self, you continue moving towards the figure on the hill, standing among so many flowers looking at the sun.  

But I know you I know what you do You love me at the same time As you once did in a dream I know you I walked with you once in a dream 

The wind was soft and cool against your skin as you walked through the tulip field. The sweet smell of flowers filled the air and the sun hung high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the surroundings. As you continued walking, you heard that familiar song echoing in the air.

 "Who are you really?" you whisper in that childish little voice, this time you control this body and even if you expected an answer, there is only silence.

The closer you got, the more your heart pounded in your chest. And then, you finally saw it: a tall horned figure standing a few feet away from you.

Something in his majestic, magical and calming presence made you cry. At this moment you became a little girl taking the place of your inner self, now you just wanted to hug that man and run in his arms, like a game.

"Tsunotarou... that's what your name is?" those simple words made the horned figure look at you, with a slow step he walked up to you bending down to look at you.

The stranger smiled at you as he bent down to your level. He gently wiped away your tears with his thumb, his gaze warm and affectionate.

"Yes, it's me" he whispered in response. 

"I have missed you so much." This time your inner self spoke for you, since you wouldn't be able to understand its identity or the feelings it provokes in you, but you don't want to push it away either.

The man dressed in black hugged you tightly, squeezing you close to his chest. It was a protective embrace and you could feel the love and affection in his touch.

"You have no idea how much I've wanted to see you again, the clues I left you in your dreams, do you still have doubts my little girl?"

You nodded as you let yourself be carried by him, all your stress or bitter attitudes gone. There is only you and that lost innocence. 

"Sorry if I don't understand anything, it's just that I forgot you and that frustrates me" This time you spoke from your heart, with the truth. Without lying to anyone much less yourself and he seemed to understand. 

"Everything will have an answer, but I've missed you too, I can't be near you because I wouldn't know how to control myself, I may lose control if I see you more than I should" His whispers sounded melancholy and plaintive, but deep down his tone threatened to overflow into madness and rage. 

"Then why didn't you come for me? I don't remember but I feel like I sink into a sadness thinking about you" This time he kept silent, his face you couldn't see but you felt the tension in his body. 

"...There were reasons beyond my power that prevented me from that, besides if I went after you I could have accidentally killed you in my rage looking for you."

Despite his words you felt disappointed with him, you still decided not to hate him, you didn't want to be a bad person, no matter how bitter you were. 

"I understand... But could you answer me something, why don't I remember you well? I know you had something to do with me however, I don't remember, much less know who I was before what I am now."

The strange man again took your face in his hands and you saw why you couldn't see him, there was a mist blurring his face. 

"I don't think it's time yet, but I assure you that in a few weeks you will know... Until then, I will see you and answer your questions, my little daughter of man. Because we saw each other in a dream-" 

You wanted to keep asking but he kissed your forehead and you fell into a dream within your dreamlike sleep, finally waking up hyperventilating. 

"... Fuck I couldn't ask him his real name."

[skyartworkzzz]

COTL Headcanons ramble

Felt like sharing these in case I take a long ass time to draw it out These are still raw in my mind, so some things may change futurely or the way I explain it might not make sense BUT ALAS it is fun to ramble

SO WATCH OUT FOR THE LIST UNDER THE CUT!!

Before Narinder was banished, a feeling of mistrust was already growing amongst the siblings, and one of the reasons for such a thing involved envy (except for Shamura, I like to think they were above finding themselves lower or greater than anyone) Ever since a young age Narinder has always been a fast-learner, and quite skilled at everything he did. Gardening, fighting, cooking, strategizing, he was good. Definitely not perfect, but alarmingly good So as time went by, the Bishops grew colder with him until he eventually turned against them all, and thats where their feeling of envy turned into fear. For both of their own lives and their brother's, because that's when they realized his "flawless" abilities were always and clearly prone to turning him into the monster he then became (smtng like Anakin Skywalker if the image I have of him in my head makes any sense-) Naturally, a feeling of guilt lingers in them for not having been able to see it sooner and stop it, but as Shamura pointed out after Narinder was sealed, this was meant to happen. He was meant to be a monster, and a really good one

Aym and Baal were secretly given to Narinder by Shamura; they performed a ritual by themselves and killed the kits to send them to the Gates. When the brothers arrived, Narinder reluctantly took them in and naturally grew fond of the twins as time went by, but because they were sacrificed as offerings, Aym and Baal were half-immortal (something like the Lamb once they receive the Crown), meaning that they still had mortal needs such as eating or sleeping At the time, Ratau was serving Narinder as the bearer of the Red Crown, and amongst the rat's adventure, the god of Death eventually introduced the red chest we use to sell things for gold. He would request Ratau regularly to send in meals and fish in order to feed Aym and Baal (and I feel like a genius for coming up with why that chest exists hi-) When the kits were finally fully grown and well-trained, they ascended to Divine Guardians of TOWW and officially started serving him Despite their Ascension, Aym and Baal were never trapped into the Gates, so they were able to visit the world above but as ghosts of sorts (which means only a few ppl would be able to see them). It was through these ghostly travels that both were able to learn who their mother was and watched her from afar when not serving TOWW

The Bishops were once mortals before becoming bearers of the Crowns, a long time to ago, meaning that they likely have a life they no longer rememeber For the funs and giggles of it, I like to imagine that this "long time ago" for them was around the times animals still did not wear clothes nor knew how to speak aside from their respective noises AUHAUHASDJSD ALSO POSSIBLY LESS HUMANOID I like the thought of them looking either much more beast-like or just- tiny. Very tiny. As the animals they are AUHAJMDKADS

The Lamb doesnt know how to do SHIT aside from fighting. Im writing my Lamb as an artist in my Death After Life fic for the sake of the angst, but in actuality, they do not care about art that much. I like to think that they'd prefer small silly doodles over full-blown paintings, but if they do put in the time and effort, they manage to make smtng Mona Lisa-esque. So the skill is there, but they prefer to not use it unless for smtng specific. Its like those kinds of hobbies nobody knows u have til u make smtng CRAZY yk This also goes for cooking, except they are truly a Terrible cook, in modern AU Lambert lives off from cheap pizzas and dollar-stored cupnoodles u cannot change my min-

Leshy is the one who'd soften up the most for me. Obv still a fcking GREMLIN but I think he'd be much more considerate than his former self My guy would go from "kys /srs" to "kys /j" ALSO I like to think his and my yellow cat's love language is gifts and/or acts of service, theyre oftenly pampering each other out of the blue <3

This idea is still in the approval stages but.............Shamura remembers a bit of their pre-Bishop life. A bit. And that bit revolves around the fact that they might have known love in the past. Perhaps a romantic one, Im still not sure- Which now that I think about it would make the most sense as to why theyre so forgiving to Narinder, since the Bishop of War would probs want anything but peace with those that wronged them, unless they had a good reason not to cause havoc immediately............

[intellectual6666]

I have some things to talk about, which I felt and saw after I got my CBSE 10th results.

Everyone takes credit. Like relatives who for the whole year kept saying, "our children also gave boards, why are they (my parents) acting like it's such a big thing?", "they are showing as if only they have work and they are busy, we are useless na", came to say, "she is our daughter/granddaughter, that's why she excelled in her exams." I do have a lot of respect for them and yes, I love them a lot too and also you can take credits of it, due to their ashirvad I was able to excel in the exams but why act like they are "only" reason I got good marks in it ? I would like to give 50% credits to my parents and the rest to me and my God. There was also a time when my father was not able to give the monthly fees of my school for 3 months, but he managed to keep me in a English medium private school by working his ass off. My mother left her social life, didn't even go to ISKCON (her favourite place) so that she can keep her full attention on me. We went through so much financial issues in 2022 and 2023 (first half) but my parents didn't let my education sacrifice. I, didn't take any tuitions so that I do not put extra burden on them (another reason I didn't take tuition coz I prefer self study more than tuitions). Me, who got so stressed because of my class 10 boards that by the time my exams were near my mental health worsened. I was getting suicidal thoughts and got introduced to new health problems which still haunt me, hypertension and palpitation. But still, I worked hard, my closest friends helped me, my parents helped me and most importantly Krishna ji, Ganesh ji, Radharani ji and Mahadev helped me. My struggle was totally mine and no one fought the war inside me other than me. So before taking the whole credit, atleast for once one should think about the people who really worked hard.

Second, this comparison shit kills one inside. No, I didn't compare myself to anyone as my parents never taught me that nor they ever compared me to anyone. Basically me and my maternal uncle's daughter are really close. And she is quite average in her studies. But trust me she is an amazing dancer, singer and artist. I envy her because of the great acting skills she have. But according to that typical thoughts, her parents always compare her with me and try to demean her, on the thing that she is not much good in studies and I'm comparatively good in it. Her results came out some days ago, as she used to study in an ICSE school and to be honest, she did amazing. Getting such marks is not so easy in ICSE board. Yesterday her mother kept comparing her with me and made her feel insecure and bad. Like why ? What do you get by hurting a child ? Why the actual fuck can't you ever be satisfied with whatever she got ? Praise her, tell her she is amazing, bring some confidence in her instead of making her feel so insecure that she starts to kill her feelings for everyone. Please freaking stop that. My mother, as usual a boss lady, replied her so sassily that my sissy ran to her and hugged her for 15 minutes straight. All of my closest friends got above 90% and I got below it, but God my parents didn't think about that for even once. They kept praising me.

So this was a rant post and you can totally ignore it if you want. Sorry for writing such a long ass thing, I had a lot to burst out.

And also sorry if there's any spelling mistake.

Congratulations to all the 10thies and 12thies for acing your exams. Everyone did amazing. I'm proud of you.

[bryce-bucher]

.50 Caliber 3D Platformer Post #7

Environment AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAART:

Finally, I've gotten around to making the environment art for the one level that I've got rn. I've been playing the system shock remake, and I really love how that game creates the illusion of grungy detail that reveals itself to be very low-resolution textures up-close. I knew I wanted the game to look like of grungy for a while now, but I didn't know exactly how I would go about achieving it. I toyed with the idea of layering photocopy textures over everything, but I eventually settled on using low resolution textures that are dithered with web colors. I'm quite happy with how it ended up looking. I think it has a source engineish vibe that reveals itself to be more colorful and strange up-close.

The Textures:

The process for making these is a lot simpler and less time consuming that how I usually make textures. This is mostly because I'm relying a lot more on the baked lighting to make things look good in this particular game, so the textures can get away with being less detailed. I'm mostly just grabbing stuff off of websites like textures.com and adjusting the contrast / coloration before shrinking them down and lowering the color depth. Here are some examples of how they look wowee wow:

Lightinggg:

For this game I'm using baked lighting as opposed to vertex based or realtime. I really like how it looks, and it ends up saving me a lot of time. If you don't know how baked lighting works, basically I place lights around a scene in unity, and then I use anything but unity's built in lightbaker that is bad and sucks (I use bakery) to essentially turn the lighting into a texture map that is placed on the mesh. It turns lights into textures basically. It is a lot more performant than real-time lighting, and it usually looks a lot better as well. With this game's particular art style, everything really ends up coming together with the lighting, and it would look pretty trash without it.

Cameo Skinz:

I've always really liked putting cameos in my stuff from artists that I'm friends with and/or take a lot of inspiration from. In this game, I plan to include a lot of unlockable skins for the player character that are characters from games / animations / whatever that I like. So far I've made a couple to breakup my time working on environment art. Check um out:

This one is Peter Shorts from an upcoming game called You Are Peter Shorts. I loved this dude at first sight and it was the first skin I ended up making. He was really fun to make because he has no body or hands, so I ended up making his head/torso one big thing that is attached to the head bone. You are Peter Shorts is made by the talented ondydev who I don't think I've actually asked permission to include this skin yet. If it doesn't end up in the final game pretend I didn't post about it lol. You should check out their previous game Tres-Bashers if you haven't.

This one is Appy from Brawlers World! Brawlers World is one of those creative projects that is so great that it gives me envy. I'm honestly so excited to be able to have this little dude in my game, and I think he ended up fitting into the art style super well. Those are the only two skins I've made so far. I have a lot more planned including Nova from Anodyne 2, Frog from Jamphibian, Knight of Trye from Knight's Try, Orbo from Peeb Adventures & Orbo's Odyssey, and some characters from my own stuff. They aren't a high priority right now because I have to actually make the game first, but I'll probably make a few here and there to curb burnout, and I'll show them off whenever I do. I am v passionate about the cool shit my peers are making, and I hope other people are too.

Conclusion:

idk it's like 8 am and I haven't slept. I've just been workin a lot while listening to the magnus archives. I guess I can turn this conclusion into me talking about the magnus archives. I'm on episode 197 while writing this so im almost done. It is p cool and I like how much it changes tonally overtime. It really feels like a big long journey, and I like media that can do that kinda thing. It is now a series that I will forever associate with the development of this game considering I listened to it all while working on it. It's kinda funny how that happens. Sometimes I'll be in a location in one of my games and it'll make me think about some video essay or w/e that I was watching while making it. Anyway, have a good day every1 pls tyty

[cosmicbash]

I saw this too late :’( but aren’t Em’s boobs in those pics just MWAH? Cant you imagine a very enthusiastic Kelly trying to convince Marshall to get a nipple piercing and mister grumpy grandpa Mathers just getting absolutely appalled and horrified by that request. Then maybe Colson finds him looking up online sex shops for nipple clamps.

(((I just found this sitting unposted in my drafts????? and its good?? so why didnt i ever hit post??))

Em's boobs just looked so squeezable 😩😩

I envy that guy who copped a feel after Em teased him over their neverending handshake.

If only that could be ME

Also you are NEVER TOO LATE to say ANYTHING about Ems tits in an ask. That IMMEDIATELY revives my artistic spirit. I need those tits like water bby and I know kells would too.

Also nipple piercing em is 😏🥴🥴

So. Ahem

TittyTitTittyTitTittyTitTransitionTit

They've been laying in Colson's bed bickering over it for at least a half hour. Their once content not!snuggling and casual body exploration falling apart completely in favor of an argument.

"Come on, just one little hoop-"

"Ha!"

"It doesn't even hurt that bad I swear babe-"

Marshall's next snort sounds almost gutteral with how hard he holds back another mocking fit of laughter. "Doesn't even hurt- yeah, cuz a literal needle jabbing through one of the most sensitive spots on my body to rip flesh out and make a hole is like playing patty cake-"

"Oh come on, when you word it all fucking extra like that of course it'll sound bad- look-" Colson knew feeling offended was a little stupid but he has never let being stupid stop him before. "If anyone between the two of us has a more accurate pain scale for piercings do you really think its the one that has a single set of pierced ears? Hm? Or maybe the dude with like a dozen-"

This time Marshall did laugh openly at him, tone shifting over to a properly annoyed one.

"Really? Your pain scale is super fucking skewed Colson! How many times this year did you smash literal bottles and shit over your head? Divebomb off a stage to bust your ribs? Sleep through nasty tattoo spots? Don't you dare try and act like I'm being a pussy over nothing."

It's out of Colson's mouth before he can stop himself. His childish selfish wants completely winning out in a "Pftt, well you totally are."

Regret wells up just as fast in him as the anger does in Marshall's eyes. His semi comfortable spot sat over the other man's lap rapidly upseated in a flurry of fast movement. "Fuck you."

"Fuck. Em, come on-" Colson knows when he's stuffed his foot in his mouth and this is definitely one of the worser times. He should have been more mindful of the tension already present, or of his partners ever denied sensitivity to such subject. But the match is lit under Marshall's fire now.

"Some of us don't have a pile of pills or gallons of alcohol to hide behind everytime we go out and fuck our body up some more you know-"

And there it is. The always accurate defensive jab off Marshall's sharp tongue.

It hurts more this time than Colson expects it to. Maybe because he knows he deserves it for pressing and trying to guilt trip the other rapper. And maybe because he knows by now he really should be getting his shit together so the other man doesn't have such an easy diss to throw his way.

To their credit though, he can see a flash of regret pass over Marshall's face too as soon as it comes out.

Not that it stops the brunette from getting dressed any further, or slows his obvious escape.

"I'm--" sorry. Colson can almost hear it. See the word curl and shape on Marshall's lips, but the anxiety further up in blue eyes prevents it. They both know it wont allow it to come out. So another exasperated noise does instead, hands flying up to rake through the rare hatless head before Marshall is moving again. Sweats yanked up and feet thankfully left bare.

"It's my fucking nipple you asshole."

And then he's gone. Out of Colson's room without another outburst. Off to lick his wounds or more so, allow Colson to lick his own.

A few months ago the blonde would have chased after, continued the shouting until it teetered on that scary ledge of physical, their fingers grabbing too tight at eachothers skin, fists shaking, anything to keep Marshall from leaving.

But now? He's learned enough to take note of the shoes in the corner of his room, the discarded kangol, wallet and keys neatly tucked away in the spare nightstand, and so many other little anchors locking Marshall down around the room. It's just space. Space needed to run and cool off somewhere else in the house, prevent a bigger fight. A smart skill Colson should really use more himself.

So he rolls himself over into the warm emptied spot on the bed and waits. Ego wounded and heart a little sore by his own fault.

It only takes an hour for Marshall to come back and even less time than that for Colson to file his horny nipple ring tugging dreams far far away in his mind. An argument decidely NOT for another day or at all if he knows whats best for them.

Keeping Marshall back curled in his bed is obviously whats best. It keeps that gnawing need to drink his sorrows away, and makes the world's edges feel less sharp.

He wants to apologize as soon as he hears the click of the bedroom door, but he manages to bite it back until sock padded feet are thumping softly across his carpet beneath the bed. A rough sounding "Sorry-" leaving his tongue before he even sees Marshall walk into his line of vision. It's the one thing he has on the other man, his ability to actually say the word first, without painful prodding. And he's not going to let go of it no matter how petty he wants to be.

"Don't." The older man is sighing, but in a soft way. It drags his eyes away from the wall finally. The relief he feels just seeing Marshall back standing there in his room quickly replaced by a blip of confusion.

He's got stuff clutched to his chest, a bottle of peroxide, wipes, some plastic packaging. And up further Colson can see how embarrassment is burning his cheeks pink above his dark beard. His expression twisted into one of discomfort.

"Well?"

"Well?" Colson feels even more confused. Marshall is acting like the little bottle in his hand might as well be a bouquet of apology roses and he can't for the life of him figure out why.

"You gonna fucking pierce me or not?" He's chewing the insides of his cheeks. Usually Colson finds this cute but his ears are still ringing from the question. Excitement racing through his veins like gasoline lit by a match.

It's not surprise he practically jumps off the bed. "For real?? For real, for real??" He has to be dreaming, he must've slipped right off into a depression nap at some point while Marshall was gone because there's no way the other man can be serious.

But he is. Hands discarding the clutter of alcohol wipes, peroxide, and clean packaged piercers needles on the bed like it's nothing. "If you're telling me you sat here running your mouth and can't put your money to it now then I'm seriously gonna smack you this time-" Marshall's huffing at him, hands a little shakey while he wrestles off his shirt. "I had to bullshit to your bassist that you were having a manic episode and wanted a new piercing to get all this shit so, don't think you're getting off scott free either. I'm not having those dudes speculate where I let you pierce me if they see you come down without a new one-"

"Oh my god-" Colson still can't grasp reality. He's never won an argument this hard against Em before. Usually his crazy ideas are just whacked back down with a bat. He almost feels like he should cry.

Marshall looks like he wants to as well, but for a different reason. His anxiety visible in the twitchy movements of his hands and the squint of his face. "Please don't tell me you toked your brains out while I was gone-"

"No!" That jerks Colson back to full functionality. His hands moving to grab at the items and heart racing like a horse in his chest. "I-- I just needed a minute to- fuck- to fuckin process that-- you're serious? You're really serious about doing this?"

"Getting less by the second."

God he wants to kiss him. And shit, he does, hand coming up to drag the older rapper down by his neck and seal their mouths together in a firm smooch. Grin breaking their lips apart when he just can't hold back his giggles anymore. "Holy shit, I'm so fucking excited-"

"Shut up." He can feel just how hard Marshall's own heart is galloping when he lets his hand drag down the man's chest after they part. Palm pausing over the hard punch against skin like a magnet. He's certain that's not excitement, which makes it even hotter.

The dudes terrified but still willing to go through with this to please him.

He's gonna suck his dick so hard after they're done. Hell, he'll shove him down on the bed and ride him until sunset. This is a bazillion times better than apology roses.

"You do, uh, know what you're doing right?"

Colson does NOT. But he grins and nods his head anyway. He knows how to give someone a piercing yeah, he's done tons of his own and other peoples. Through the nipple though? That's gonna be a first, but his other hand is already tapping away super fast and discreetly on his phone while he pushes Marshall down to sit in his emptied space on the bed. "I got you baby-" He's gonna wikihow his way through this before anyone changes their mind.

[rainbowninja00]

title pending!

so there's this idea that's been bonking around my mind for... years? I'm not sure how many but it's been a while. so, it started with the idea of characters based on the 7 deadly sins (original I know) and grew into a whole false tv show in my brain. first off, LONG POST WARNING!!!!!!! just letting yall know. second, there is some inspiration from Ready Player One here, if you haven't seen it, dw you dont need the context of the story, just the idea of a VR kinda thing for the internet, EXCEPT your body ceases to exist outside of it when you arent in the internet (tm) so no bullshit someone's gonna get you while you're in there! I can and will go into the intricusies of how the internet (tm) works but there are other things I wanna expand on. mainly, our main characters!!! there are 8 main characters: one for every sin and the protagonist. (some images included to show off the general vibe/colour palette of the characters all from pinterest) starting with our main character, she doesn't really have a name cause i cant think of a good one, but she's 14-16, new to high school and experiencing the internet (tm) for the first time, she's been online, but never in the actual world before. I like to think she wears mainly black and white with hints of red or other colours in the beginning and gains more colours as time goes on and she learns more about herself and the world around her. she is heavily inspired by moon girl from marvel's moon girl and devil dinosaur

next, Pride! she is the general leader of the group since she's the most commanding and takes no shit. she tries to keep the kid safe and out of trouble, she has her own in securities and such that I can go over in a stand alone post about the specific characters. she is kinda inspired by garnet from steven universe but only in a design way.

then we have the most developed and a literal self insert: lust! he's the resident "heart throb" of the group and is probably the silliest of the group, also the one the protag meets first. he is the insighting incident in many a misadventure cause its easy to use him for that. I will go into this more later, but he's lust cause he lusts for a relationship, he's a sad boy (like me) inspiration is angel dust from hazbin but only in personality.

envy and greed are twins, identical within the internet (tm) and fraternal outside of it cause oh yeah, the 7 are all real people too. they work together very well and put on a show of wanting what the other has to outside observers. the only inspo I can think of is the general aesthetic of grossology and mammon from helluva from a design stand point.

(pretend there's an image of a big ol oversized hoodie here, almost all those photos have people in them and I dont feel comfortable with that) wrath was one of the hardest for me to pinpoint initially, his thing isn't being angry, he makes others angry by being goofy and messing with them. Like kel from omori, also his design SOMEHOW ended up being cowboy esque in my head??? so like clover from undertale yellow.

sloth is actually my favourite, she loves hyperpop, all things pink and pastel, loves performing songs with lust, but she's sloth because she doesn't do anything unless it interests her, no chores, no responsibilities, she leaves the internet(tm) the least out of them all. I saw an artist on twitter once and was like YEAH THATS THE VIBE but I forgot who they are TwT. she is also based on moon girl design wise. BEE AND PUPPYCAT AESTHETIC MY GOAT!!!

(idk if this is fan art, if it is and someone knows who made it lmk)

last and sadly least is gluttony, I don't really have them super developed, and if anyone has any ideas for them I would love to hear it!

If anyone wants to see or hear more I will happily yap about it for hours, PLEASE I AM BEGGING ON MY HANDS AND KNEES FOR PEOPLE TO REBLOG THIS I just wanna know if anyone would be interested on hearing more so I know if I should bother typing up more posts on these guys! (also id appriciate help w/ the title)

[dearansur]

my job isn't terrible and I could even say it's pretty good compared to other places I could have been working at. I get paid twice a month and I can at least expect the same sum of money and can plan future expenses a bit. and my coworkerks are nice but holy shit if I don't feel like running away, especially when I think of how there are more months of employment ahead...

I suppose it's my natural state of being, never satisfied and always trying to find a way out so I cannot be shackled to anything. but real world doesn't work like that and unfortunately I wasn't born rich so it's either work or starve and die 👍

my art career ended without really starting and the feeling of absolute dread I experience when I think of posting and being online as an artist makes me want to kms and I wish I was saying this half seriously. I envy those who can put their creative abilities to actual use and find employment because my maximum is taking commissions I cannot finish for months because of Fear and Despair.

and I know that digging deeper into it will just uncover how utterly depressed and empty I am and how I hid from all of my online friends because I cannot handle the alienation of me rotting while others are living. and this alienation is doubled by the war and how I can't relate even to my Ukrainian friends because they're either emigrees or not living in occupation like I am and our experiences are still so different. generally living here feels like being stuck in a bog, except that bog is also a dormant war zone that will explode any second and drown you so fast you won't even blink.

anyways 😃

[lukael]

It's that time again

Man I always feel bad when posting long ass rants on tumblr, but this place is basically the last one where I feel I can actually speak my mind because nobody really gives a shit on here, and I mean that in the best way lol sometimes I just have this jumbled mess of thoughts in my brain and I just need to let it all out, yknow?

Anyways.... I feel like over the last 1-2 years I'd been in a pretty nice groove with drawing multiple images per months (almost exclusively commissions, but still that's something) but things have died down so much to the point where I'm not getting more than like... maybe 1 or TWO commissions per month if I'm lucky. Social medias have just all gone to shit, and maybe because the general mood is down, or because the economy is bad, or because I haven't been posting enough? like who knows the fucking reason at this point, I don't even really wanna know. It means I've been making basically no money but that's not what I wanna talk about

So the whole time I was busy with comms, I was like "oh man I sure hope I get some time to draw my own stuff soon" and I was in this mode for soooo fucking long, and now that I finally have the time, I just.... I got nothing. I haven't been drawing anything for like 2-3 months, I have no inspiration, no motivation.... Like 70% of my time has been going to making videos for my channel, and that's been fulfilling in its own way?? kinda? I've just kinda been doing it on autopilot tbh, because I don't think I'm good at it, and because 99% of the viewership doesn't interact with videos it feels like they don't exist yknow? So like I get these hundreds of regular viewers every week but it doesn't feel like it, I still don't feel like an actual "Let's Player" and not sure what I'd even need to feel that way at this point, but anyways

So I haven't been drawing, and it's really weighing on me. I've talked about it many times before, but my sense of self and my identity is so tied to my being an artist, it's something I've always wrestled with, so whenever I'm not making art, I feel like I'm failing at being me, if that makes sense. The desire is there, I still "want to be an artist", whatever that even means when you're just not drawing?? I just feel lost man. After years and years and years of consuming so much art online, I'm stuck in this constant loop of wanting my art to look like other people's and of not knowing who I even am as an artist. Am I just envy? jealousy? Do I have anything artistic to even offer to the world other than attempting to replicate artists that I like?

When I was a little kid, I started drawing my trying to replicate the art in like instruction booklets of games I owned, doing Marios and Megamans, and then moved on to trying to draw like Toriyama and Dragon Ball.... it's what gets you started as a kid, but I realize it just hasn't changed after all this time, I'm still just trying to copy what others are doing. I get enamored and impressed by the amazing artists I find online, but maybe it's also the worst thing that could happen to my art.

Like I'll do these pictures where I emulate someone's style and it'll look halfway decent, but that's not me... I don't know what my own style is supposed to be. And this has been going on for years, Audrey could attest to it, it just feels worse now because I really just..... don't even draw much anymore. The whole time I was working on commissions I'd say "i really need some time off so I can do some exploration and figure out who I am as an artist and what style I wanna do moving forward". Well, now I've got the time, but I still don't know, and I have no motivation to figure it out, nor do I even know where I'd start. And it's got me feeling like shit because again........ I'm supposed to be "an artist".... yknow?

And there's other factors playing into it, just the general apathy we've all kinda been feeling due to GenAI obviously, and the death of social media platforms for art, and just........ a lot of this negative shit is definitely affecting me and my motivation to create.... it's not that I've ever made art just to show it online, but if nobody is gonna see it, why even create yknow?

Anyways the solution would be to finally go get some therapy but again I'm fucking broke so obviously that's not happening, I'll have to settle for ranting on here instead

[sugurushimura]

Surviving in Spiral Motion

After the Yotsuba Kira dies on the night of October 28, the rest of his co-conspirators are free to go about business as usual. Some of them, however, have a harder time readjusting than others.

As the Earth spins, Shimura Suguru draws closer to a destination that even he doesn't know.

(post-yotsuba arc, shimura-centric. 23.3k words. due to the sheer length of this thing, i've only included the first section here; check out the rest on ao3! this section has content warnings for alcohol usage and referenced death.)

“What the hell are we supposed to do?”

Takahashi’s voice comes from the phone in a panicked blast of volume louder than anything Shimura’s heard from him in weeks, months. He cringes against the receiver. 

“We can’t do anything,” he says. He’s trying to sound firm, but his entire body feels numb, distant, thrumming like a live wire, and his tongue barely moves. “Either Kira kills this man or he doesn’t. All we can do is wait.”

“Shit. I’m not sure which would be worse.”

“We’ll find out soon enough. For now, just stay put, okay? Don’t go out. Stay at home. Try not to worry too much.”

A muffled groan. “I hate this.”

“So do I.” Shimura glances towards the door to Mido’s living room. He can’t hear Mido or Namikawa, just the distant buzz of the television as it broadcasts the end of their world mixed with bright advertisements for makeup brands and injury lawyers. “I’m sorry, but I really need to go. We can talk again once the program ends.”

Before Takahashi can reply, he hangs up. As awful as he feels abandoning Takahashi to his own devices, the act of speaking is making him feel ill, and Mido’s living room has a frenzied, magnetic pull on him. He can’t stand to be away from it anymore. 

Mido’s house reminds him of a museum. Everything is ornate and traditional and artistic, just like any good politician would wish for his son. It is large, arching, gated off, and, above all, terribly empty except for Mido and his taxidermies. Emptier, even, than Shimura’s own home. He’s visited with Mido before, but it seems like ages ago now. It wasn’t anything like this.

Shimura pockets his phone as he reenters the living room, and every surface of his body feels weighed down and clammy with sweat. Mido is still hunched over in his armchair, pouring himself another glass of bourbon; Namikawa rests languidly on the couch, knuckles supporting his cheek and eyes fixed boredly on the television. The white light of the movie commercial playing bounces right off his pale skin.

“Power, lust, greed, and murder in corporate Japan! Coming to theaters this November—”

“What did Ooi and Kida say?” Shimura blurts.

“Kida nearly had a panic attack over the phone,” Namikawa replies, with an odd mixture of satisfaction and annoyance that he probably thinks Shimura doesn’t hear in his voice. “I can’t imagine he’ll do anything irrational, though—there’s nothing he can do.”

“Ooi isn’t happy, but can you blame him?” Mido shrugs his shoulders. “He’s probably getting a call from Kida about now, though.”

“I don’t envy him. How’s Takahashi?”

Shimura blinks. “Upset. Not that that’s a surprise. I told him to stay put. I can’t imagine he won’t. Like you said, Namikawa, there’s not much he can do… Hey, has Higuchi called either of you again?”

“Not since he tried to convince me to get my father involved,” Mido mutters. 

“I’m sure L will deal with him soon,” Namikawa adds smoothly. He pauses, glancing at Shimura from under his long eyelashes. “Why don’t you sit down? You might as well get comfortable. Who knows how long this will last for.”

“I’m not looking forward to going into work tomorrow,” he hears Mido say as he sinks down into his armchair. “I’ll be falling asleep at my desk.”

“If we’re not being picketed tomorrow. Or worse.”

Namikawa shakes his head. “That probably won’t be the case. Regardless, there’s no use worrying about it now. It’s out of our hands.”

“It’s always been out of our hands,” Mido adds, tired. 

“Has it?” Shimura wonders quietly, turning to the television. It’s jail bonds now. He pauses. “You’re recording this, right, Mido?”

“Yes, Shimura, I’ve been recording this ever since you asked after L’s phone call.”

“Do you think you could make me a copy?”

Mido sighs. “If you want. But don’t ask any more questions right now—the show’s coming back on.”

Shimura would normally expect a flashy bumper from Sakura TV, a hammy narrator explaining what they’d been talking about before the ad break. The absence of these things would make it obvious that something was amiss, even if Shimura didn’t know that the entire thing was a trap arranged by L himself. The frosted panels are back in place, and Matsui (still alive, probably using a fake name) is talking with the interviewer like his face wasn’t just revealed on national television. 

The sound of their voices dominates the room, aside from the odd clinking of ice in Mido’s glass. They’re padding for time, Shimura realizes. Filling the air until something happens—until Higuchi does something, most likely. Until L is nice and done with them. He wonders what L is doing right now, what Higuchi is doing. He’s nervous, but he realizes, at least, that it’s irrational, because this is L; they never stood a chance against him. Higuchi, certainly, doesn’t stand a chance alone.

And he’s alone now, wherever he is, whatever he’s doing. Alone like a body in a coffin. Alone like Hatori, broken and mangled in the destroyed driver’s seat of his little American car. 

—An American car. It had been something of a joke between their coworkers; it had been one of the little things that made him seem alien. Higuchi had thought it was funny.

He must have. 

“I know for certain that Kira is evil. He isn’t just killing criminals anymore; he’s a demon only motivated by greed,” Matsui’s tinny, distorted voice is proclaiming. Still stalling for time. But he keeps stalling for time, along with the interviewer, growing more and more flowery and elaborate as he illustrates the evils of murder-for-money. It’s that same evil that has dominated Shimura’s life for months now, and here it is, stretched out and too-vulnerable like a dissected animal right in front of the entire nation; here it is, looking him in the eye. But Yotsuba is never named, and that is worse, the anticipation that it will be. That it might be. That their careers will be over in just a breath, just three little syllables. 

His career, Shimura thinks guiltily, is an awfully small thing to lose. He doesn’t want to lose it, of course—he’ll keep it if he can—but he doesn’t deserve it anymore. None of them deserve it. Yes, a career is an awfully small thing to lose compared to a life, and they’ve taken life away with such nonchalance, signing a death warrant in the same way one would order a drink. It’s cold and evil, just like Matsui says. It’s life without mercy. No mercy and no mercy until life itself is destroyed.

Shimura wonders what mercy feels like. To spare someone else. He wants to be merciful. He wants to go back to the start and force them all to enact a bit of mercy, no matter what he has to do—even if he has to forgo it himself. 

He’s lain in his bed every night for weeks now wanting just that, and he’s sat at his desk every day for weeks now wanting just that, and wanting hasn’t done much for him. It’s almost funny—the night he decides to do something is the night it doesn’t matter anymore. It’s his own fault for being a goddamn coward. 

The program continues for what feels like hours and then, suddenly, it doesn’t. Matsui’s platitudes and promises are cut off mid-sentence, replaced by a too-bright card of Sakura TV’s smiling mascot and a message asking them to stand by. Then it’s back to commercials, and then a young woman with a face full of plastic is talking about celebrity scandals. All three of them stare at the screen.

Namikawa clicks his tongue disapprovingly.

“All that buildup and they end it like this. You’d think they’d at least make it worth our time,” Mido grumbles.

Namikawa gives an amused reply, but Shimura doesn’t really hear it. It’s over, he realizes dully, slumping back in his chair. Maybe L will call Namikawa to confirm it, maybe he won’t; either way, it’s obvious. Higuchi has been arrested. It’s over. 

They’re free, and Shimura expects to feel relief, or joy, or even just a rush of hysteria. Instead, he feels nothing. The same dread that’s been haunting him for weeks is still beating down on his shoulders. He doesn’t feel free. 

He’s not sure how long he sits there, fingers arched slightly over his mouth and eyes staring vacantly ahead, but it must be several minutes at least. He’s not sure what he’s thinking about, either—nothing and everything at the same time, maybe—but there’s a dull pounding at the back of his head, a cold feeling gripping his stomach. He thinks that right now, if he closed his eyes for long enough, he’d slip out of existence entirely, out of this world that’s gone so anticlimactically right, and everything would be so wonderfully easy. 

Suddenly, he’s aware that the room has grown silent and he’s being looked at.

He blinks, shaking his head. “Sorry, did you say something?”

“Are you alright?” Mido asks.

“Oh, I’m—I’m fine. Just thinking. What is it?”

“I was just wondering,” Namikawa drawls, “what exactly you would’ve done if L hadn’t intervened tonight. You said earlier that we’d be able to do something if all six of us got together, and I’m not sure if that would’ve happened, but that’s beside the point. Assuming we all had agreed to go against Kira, what do you think that would have entailed?”

He hesitates. “I… I don’t know. I’m sure that you guys would’ve been able to come up with a better plan than me. I would’ve gone with whatever everyone else decided on.”

“‘Everyone else,’” Namikawa repeats, leaning back in his seat. “Do you really think all five of us would have gone along with you?”

“I think so. This entire thing is—was, I guess—insane. If L or someone else hadn’t eventually found us out, Higuchi would’ve killed the rest of us once he decided it wasn’t worth the risk to have us around. Besides, I can’t imagine many of us wanted to go along with murder…” 

“Maybe.” Namikawa’s eyes are trained on him with unnerving consistency, a strange intensity hiding behind icy blue and feigned nonchalance. The traces of a smile are on his face. “And what if we hadn’t? What if most of us decided that the risk of going and the reward of staying were both too great, and the rest of us fell into line? What would you have done?”

Shimura pauses. He’d considered the possibility before, of course, but he’d hoped it would never come to that. It never will, now, but the thought still makes him frown. “I would have figured something out on my own. I would have had to have gone to Higuchi on my own and… stopped him, somehow.”

Namikawa’s gaze is unflinching. “Would you have killed him, if you had to?”

There it is; Shimura had been wondering when Namikawa would get to it. He swallows, looking down at the table, and his voice comes out dry.

“Probably.”

A moment passes; then Namikawa laughs his smooth, well-rehearsed laugh and tilts his head back. “I’m glad it never came to that. You’re not the kind of person who should stoop to murder. You have your entire life ahead of you, Shimura; I wouldn’t want to see you mar it.” 

Shimura had been watching him from his periphery, and now he really looks back up at Namikawa again, allows himself to focus on the pale figure draped over Mido’s couch cushions. There seems to him to be distinct cruelty hanging around the mouth, cold apathy in the eyes. And yet his words seem genuine. The picture is just too absurd, too ironic. And Namikawa doesn’t understand.

“I’ve already stooped to murder,” he says quietly. “We all have.”

“Being forced into a situation that causes the deaths of others and actively murdering another man are two very different things,” Namikawa replies. “Murder belongs to assassins, thugs, and lunatics. People like us are above that. You certainly are. The idea of you stabbing or poisoning Higuchi in his living room is just too vulgar; it would’ve been the worst possible ending to the affair.”

“Could you both stop being so morbid?” Mido interrupts crossly. “No one’s murdering anyone anymore. This entire conversation is pointless.”

“Sorry,” Shimura mumbles.

“I’m sorry, too. I’d hate to make our host uncomfortable,” Namikawa says, ignoring the way Mido rolls his eyes and rising to his feet. “Anyway, I ought to be leaving. It’s late, and there’s nothing else we can do. The six of us will need to meet tomorrow, and then we can put this entire ordeal behind us. I’ll ask Ooi to contact everyone; plan to meet at the normal time and place. Thank you for your hospitality, Mido, and your bourbon.”

Mido looks at him sardonically for a moment before raising his own glass in the air. “To the free market economy, Namikawa.”

“To Yotsuba’s future,” Namikawa counters, clinking his glass against Mido’s. He sips his bourbon; it’s almost the first time he’s touched it all night. 

“They’re the same thing, really,” Mido answers, finishing off the rest of his glass.

Namikawa laughs passionlessly and sets his glass back down. Turning his head, he says, “Take care, Shimura. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He exits the same way he had come in earlier in the evening, what feels now like years ago. Mido’s eyes follow him until he’s out the door, and as soon as Namikawa is gone, an odd look comes over his face; he seems more irritated and more relaxed all at once. But he doesn’t quite look at Shimura.

“I guess I should leave soon, too,” Shimura says reluctantly.

“There’s no rush.” Mido looks at the television for a few seconds, then, finally, reaches for the remote and turns it off. He pauses. “I want to ask you something.”

His voice is tentative. Too tentative. Shimura’s shoulders hunch. “Yes?”

“Would you really have killed Higuchi, if it came down to it?”

Mido’s gaze catches Shimura’s and, for a moment, they linger in silence. The question feels different coming from Mido. The air in the room is heavy.

“Yes,” he says. Confesses, this time.

Mido stares at him for a moment, bewildered, then begins to shake his head. He’s smiling, Shimura realizes. Tone indecipherable, he says, “You’re insane, Shimura. Completely insane.”

“We’re all insane, to have let things go on for as long as we did.”

“Sure. But you’re more insane than the rest of us.”

He shrugs.

“Don’t just shrug at me,” Mido says, not sounding really upset. “You would’ve gotten yourself killed, you know, or at least arrested.”

“That would’ve been better than the alternative. It would’ve been better for everyone.”

“See, you’re insane. It’s a lucky thing that L got to Higuchi first. Even if Higuchi is outed as Kira and Yotsuba ends up in hot water, that’s better than you being dead.”

“I guess.”

Mido reaches to pour himself another glass, and Shimura finds himself looking up, concerned. “Hey, how much have you had to drink?”

“On a night like this, I think I should be able to drink as much as I want. Don’t forget, Shimura, this is my house.” He raises his glass to his lips. “I can hold my liquor.”

“Right. Sorry. I… I guess I really should leave soon. I don’t want to impose.”

The glass clinks back against the table. Mido pushes his spectacles up on his nose. “I might have thought you were imposing earlier this evening; I don’t anymore. In fact, Shimura, you should come over again tomorrow night, after the meeting. It’s sure to be interesting. I’d like to talk about it with someone.”

“With me?”

“Who else?”

“I’ll come over. I’m happy to come over. I just don’t understand why you wouldn’t rather have Namikawa or Ooi.”

Mido looks at him oddly. “I’ve known Ooi for ages, and I’ve known Namikawa for longer. I appreciate their company. But you’re different from them. I’d like to talk to you. Is that a problem?”

“No. No, of course not.”

“Good. Well, Shimura, before you go, I suppose we should drink to the future of Yotsuba.”

“I thought Namikawa had that covered.”

“Oh, please. No man is an island.”

(Read the rest on AO3!)

[pynkhues]

This is kind of a heavy question and I really apologize but really always enjoy hearing your perspective on things. Did you ever struggle with not feeling like you're where you're supposed to be in life? Like everyone around you has a really good job and nice cars and you are still working at the same job you had during college. I graduated from college worked so hard and I just felt like things were going to be different but they are kind of the same. Do you ever feel like you're not moving as fast as you should be ? making some strides but just not enough. :/ Idk if so how did you deal with that? How do you get out of a funk?

Don’t apologise, anon. Trust me, I get it more than you could imagine.

I did very well in school and was one of the first of my friends to graduate from uni, and I ended up in a lot of shitkicker jobs as I was starting to write. For a long time, none of my friends really got it, and I really did feel the weight of that – they were starting in the ‘professional workforce’ technically later than I was, but as lawyers or government officials or nurses or in military, while I was working arts, events and hospitality and struggling to make ends meet.

I’ve never resented or been jealous of any of my friends’ career pathways, but I do think for a while I had a degree of insecurity around what I did/do for a living and a tendency to diminish my work in the face of theirs. With how slow any personal artistic practice moves, I’ve often felt I was treading water while they were propelling forwards, and yeah. I felt the weight of that. Still do sometimes, especially now that we’re all in our 30s, and some of them have bought houses when I know that’s not even something on the horizon for me.

It's a funny thing too, because my friends were all so supportive when my book came out, but I know most of them have had their doubts about the path I chose over the years, and we had joking conversations at my success that I don’t think we ever could’ve had before that success, but it was one of those things that made me realise I don’t envy quite a few of my friends’ work. Yeah, they might have a house, and a nice car, and a really ‘good job’, and a salary three times mine, but a lot of them aren’t happy, and have now told me they're jealous of what I do, and that they feel trapped because to explore anything outside of their current job would mean a paycut that they can’t or won’t abide.

My point is people who seem like they have their dream jobs right now - - maybe they do, maybe they don’t. In my experience, life is bumpy, and it’s going to try to take you in a million directions you don’t anticipate, and all you can do is focus on what feels right for you. If you feel right now like you’re not where you’re supposed to be, ask yourself why. Are you enjoying your job? If you’re not, what would you enjoy? If you are, what’s making you question it? Is it the pay being shit (because trust me, I’ve been there, haha), and if it is, are you willing to compromise that for job satisfaction?

Comparing it to friends or other people in your life - - look, I won’t say that I think it’s a fool’s errand, because I don’t think it is. I think having a ballpark of what other people are earning helps to break down stigma around conversations about pay, and that talking to people about what they want in a workplace is crucial in understanding what we value and need in our own, but at the same time, those comparisons come with a limit. We’re all operating on our own schedule, life doesn’t come with pre-built milestones for us to run towards, we’re all our own people, so don’t stress about moving fast. If you’re happy where you are, enjoy it. If you’re not, then think about the things you’d like in your next chapter, and build a plan that you can move towards.

So I guess my biggest advice in all of this is don’t sweat it. Life is complicated, and so are you, and embracing that I think is a pretty crucial step in self-acceptance and honestly, growing up. No two people are the same. We all have different ideas of what successful life is, and we should, so understanding what’s important to you will, at least in my experience, help guide your choices and find a peace in the path you take.

[jujurose222]

June 5th 2023

Yeah I didn't do the right thing. I could sit here and come up with excuses but yeah no I just didn't do the right thing. My dad was trying to tell me that the guilt will just eat me alive if I don't do the right thing. Yeah I felt guilty for a couple days, but I am an inconsiderate child who truly does only care about my own wellbeing at the end of the day. I can't stop crying right now. I feel really tired and sick. My stomach is aching terribly. But now I just feel hot, tired, my head hurts, and my room doesn't have air conditioning, all the rest of my house does, but not my room. I just feel like Kid Cudi when he sings about being knocked down round for round. I was listening to his music and it is so good, I want to tell you about the book I am reading and artists who channel spirits' energy to create. His music makes me feel so seen. "When will the fantasy end? When will the heaven begin?" All his music has spiritual undertones. Same with Erykah Badu oh I love Erykah Badu so much. "People always tryna find the world I'm in/ I'm the envy of the women and I rule the men/ 2 fish/ One swimming up stream/ One swimming down living in a dream/ And when she loves to tends to cling/ Incense burns/ Smoke unfurls/ Analog girl in the digital world." She makes me feel so seen. I am just feeling really lonely right now. But god damn life can be so fucking hard. And it is so much harder now that I know I could have somebody to help heal the pain of the mundane, but I don't have it. I have been trying to find the gratitude I should have for my alone time currently, but it can be hard. I have been alone my whole life, I have been tryna be grateful for this shit. I will continue but damn I just want a hug from someone who admires everything about me just like I admire everything about them. I think I am about to start my period because I have been crying all day long, starting at 5 am when I randomly woke up and tears started streaming.

[leadendeath]

uh. so i've been thinking about this for a while, right? and it's Now that i've decided to talk about it, as this is tumblr, the "weird* kinds of attraction" website

it's not a term i apply to myself/label myself with, but i love the term "wtfromantic/sexual". because hell yea dude, wtf IS how i experience attraction.

there's this one artist who i have like... a ~creative crush~ on. the fandom we're in knows them, and their works are beloved.

now, this isn't art style envy (though it is a great art style), nor some kind of? artistic success envy?? (everybody's different yknow success isnt real bro it doesnt matter lol)

it is absolutely something else.

they inspire me so much. they make me wanna become a better artist so that i can show them (they know i exist and like what i do too! i'm not being some kind of STARING FROM A DISTANCE ಠ_ಠ creeper lmao... i have actually had that happen to me before, and it would be inappropriate and wrong feeling.) and as i just said it's more than "wow you are other artist das good i like u now" and due to my inability to distinguish between different types of feelings, all my brain can say about it is: "well yeah there's that^, but also if you liked me back? well that'd just be swell :}"

i care a lot about them (im low empathy </3 so when i feel this way, it's significant yknow?). we like the same kind of things. theyre from the same country as me

(i hope so much that this part doesnt sound weird- it's significant due to: my country's really kinda small if you think about it and it's kinda rare to see someone from outside the US. to give it some perspective: i've never got a dnation/cmmission from anyone who uses my same currency from my same country lmao) (hoooly shit i just type in "how many englands fit in america" and i knew it was a lot but. look. and this is the UK! i coloured Actually England in green to further hilight how small where i'm at is!)

also. the last person i was ~involved with~ -over the internet, not irl- was in one of the states. so the thought of someone i like actually being not thousands of miles and expensive flights (wouldve been worth it 100% but im poor and disabled yknow) away? that's nice.

woah big tangent. u kno me

on the subject of the previous person... i really don't wanna say it and i've never wanted to say it but he was too neurotypical. (**he was not normal at all because we're both furries- need i say more!? you know what i mean.) but it kinda brought it home for me, the same thought i think about myself so often: "oh. oh no i can't subject you or anyone else to my mental illness." even though i was deliriously happy with him which. hurts like nothing else. i NEED the fellow major depressive communication. i NEED the this:

^just found that pic look how good it is

also omg look at these colours of the wtfromantic also known as quoiromantic flag it RULES

its freakin. neon grean

* =by weird i did not mean "ew weird abnormal you must have something wrong with you ://" kind of weird! i mean like unusual. wanted to clarify so to not cause offense i hope; fellow aroace spectrum people who experience attractions in a way that is considered outside the norm are great <3

[northropi]

this is terrible advice for anything except in retrospect, and even then i don't even know how right i really am, but i probably should have dropped out earlier. i'm probably gonna have to start making loan payments soon and frankly the job i have, which is pretty nice, seems like one i could have gotten on community college education- and meanwhile embracing my "get a real job" mentality during that time has kind of fucked me over royally. now that i'm not quite stable but getting there, art is sort of all i have emotionally, and, well, yeah i'm sorta in the worst art mood i have been in for a long time.

it doesn't help that we're sort of in a new generation of prodigies who are often too young to even be able to view the stuff i post, picking up modeling and code from an actual early age. yeah the TikTok ten-videos-at-once thing seems dystopian but frankly the kids are alright and i'm left envying that.

i have no portfolio. everything i've done outside of the last four years has been pen-and-paper sketches. while, like, yeah, valid, go traditional artists 'n' all, getting those online would be prohibitively complicated. Page after page to scan, page after page that's been rubbing together for years in a cheap sketchbook, my already faint linework rubbing away, eroding into nothing. so much must already be just lost to time. and in those four years, what have i done? not fucking much. Haven't been able to find the time, and when I find a bit I can't apply myself.

everything i do has an entirely different workflow as i try again and again to get somewhere fucking functional, and i've become acutely aware of how drawing for establishing concepts rather than for scenes and characters has left me with, and say that i'm good at <x> all you want it doesn't change the fact that i'm not good at <y> and <y> just so happens to be really fucking important, an extremely unbalanced skillset. i can't really draw the same thing twice- every drawing of a given character looks like a different fucking character. my perspective is wonky, and after that first attempt i don't know if i'll ever be able to do animation. and somehow i still have sameface issues!

writing dialogue comes out fucky because i can't make a character naturally sound like anything but myself, i don't know how basic shit like speech bubbles should look, there are huge gaps in my knowledge of the software, and, just, why was i not doing what i'm doing now seven years ago? fuck, why wasn't i on this site? i'd have been bopped by the porn ban probably but it'd have been good to have my foot in the door- i know i had a phase where i was all "ewww Tumblr" but i was never that bad.

i've often expressed when asked about how i think of my life that i've spent it. not doing things but on things. that it was consumed and given away in a transaction in hopes that i could start it later-but-better. and for all that life i spent, i was explicitly promised that the next phase of it would be easier. that really high school was harder than college and it was all just to test you, that the laid-back pace of university would be easier than my college once i transferred, and that jobs would be so easy to come by after university and so laid back that my life would be a breeze. each time was a lie- well, maybe it'd have gone better if i could have finished uni, but somehow i doubt that it'd fix my free time issue.

it was five years, and i proceeded to spend an additional two rotting at home. imagine if i spent those with some friends nearby, someone i could move out with on a basic job. nope. never made any. imagine if i had spent the years of unemployment at least being able to work on things- but no, i was being prodded at to get a job even in spite of diminishing returns, kept under so much stress that even on days where i had done my due diligence i couldn't focus. now i have a job, and it's devouring my time with the drive to get there and back, and this isn't even full hours yet. can't find the focus or time to get art done- but at least my high WPM and depressive episodes mean i can get bursts of writing done and look like a sadsack to the rest of the world, huzzah.

every day it becomes easier to look at something i admire and compare myself to it, but harder to learn from it. it's like i was born yesterday with nothing but snippets of trivia to my name- enough to let me fake it halfway through a Mechanical Engineering degree. and, yet, i feel old. i don't know how else to describe it. past my prime, like my brain isn't able to wire in new habits and like my time to work with what i have is sorely finite. i keep asking myself if life sorta just sucks- if anyone is able to really do anything off the clock or if all these people i want to be like are some privileged few blessed with more time than us dregs. and as for practice, hoooh boy, did i mention the family predisposition to dementia? how i suspect even my mother has succumbed to it at some point in her conspiracy rabbithole between the ages of 30 and 50? plus my liver being funny? the hole in my brain that's just fucking there? yeah i give myself until 50, and gonna be 26 in a month, so, shit, dude, at this rate, how much art can i do in my life? like being generous i'm halfway good, and it seems like i might be halfway dead, so doing the math i don't have a ton of hope.

at what point do i stop being stubborn and just comm someone better than me to do everything fuck

Anyways, yeah, like, between the stuff I took on in High School and higher education, that's, like, a decade of my life just... Poof. Gone. And now it's... maybe some background help I should be grateful for? But right now it feels like it wasn't fucking worth it. I could have made something. I could have really... Made something. Something not exactly real, but something good.

Do you know how deluded I was in that engineering phase? I thought I'd be designing planes just as casually as I drew them. I was aware on some level that I wasn't that good, but that lie of being gifted, it strung me along into thinking that, with enough training, I'd get there, because that's totally how the aerospace industry works. Oh, and working for fucking LockMart or some shit? No moral qualms there. Just like Gramps, the one you never knew because even your abusive mom considers him abusive, who worked on the T-28's ejector seat (a specific part of a modification to a preexisting design and he didn't even do that alone and yet your dumbass was just like "yeah I'll just build a plane from a sketch every week," you fucking megalomaniac), and then died in his house with his dog that always puked every time you saw it only like 10% lucid some months after threatening his social worker at gunpoint- yeah he's one of the dementia points btw.

You know how I feel? You know, like, shows, right, movies where the character isn't having a great time so they see a vision and it's like "wow glad that's not me!" It feels like there's some version of me out there that's, you know, starving artist, poor, wondering if she made the right choices, and she's looking at me right now, like, still pretty poor, but also fucking miserable and probably not gonna be remembered after she's gone, and looking at the genie or whatever the shit that brought her in like "wow! I appreciate my life much more now! Clearly artistic pursuits are worth pursuing over job security, even within the crushing confines of the capitalist system!" And like, Djinn, buddy, like, it's been 25 years in this weird AU you made to prove a point, doesn't feel like it sometimes, but can you do me a favor and just sort of merge this timeline back into that one so I don't have to see this through? Or, like, are you gonna show her my neglected, crumbling headstone too to really drive the point home?

Or maybe this is the good timeline, but that just raises further, darker questions.

...

I kinda want to believe I made the wrong choice, really.

[hellspawndoodles]

I’m mad. I have been mad for...I wanna say like eleven, maybe 12 years? Doesn’t matter.

Anyway, the thing I’m mad about is the entire ‘Advice for Tween and Teen Girls’ genre because of the stupid bullshit ‘clique bad’ moral that they so often peddle. It is garbage and I hate it and it feels like the writers of this nonsense either never were teenagers or were like homeschooled or something. Rant proper under the cut because I doubt anyone wants to read my tired ass yelling about something immaterial.

OKAY still here? Good.

There’s a lot to unpack with ‘clique bad’ morals and frankly I kind of want to throw away the whole suitcase but I want to scream into the void rn soooooo

1. Words Mean Things and y’all don’t fucking know how people work apparently

So the definition of a clique, according to good ol’ Oxford Languages, is as follows:

“A small group of people, with shared interests or other features in common, who spend time together and do not readily allow others to join them.”

So, a friend group. Literally every fucking high school friend group ever is like this. The popular kids, obviously. But also like, any group that met through an extracurricular, or people that’ve been friends for ages, or the weird kids that sit in the library before and after class and talk about Pokemon and anime and shit, aka the kind of friend group I was in. Literally everyone who went to school and had friends was in a clique. I was in a clique and you were in a clique and I guaran-fucking-tee you that folks like Trevor Romain or whoever writes for American Girl were in a clique because I’m not going to accuse anyone of not having any friends.

And like, not jumping at the opportunity to add someone to the group isn’t inherently a bad thing. It’s kind of a dick move to exclude someone just because ‘fuck this guy in particular’ but if you don’t click with someone you don’t click with them, simple as. You’re not obligated to try and make it work bc inclusivity or whatever. There were loads of people I didn’t want joining the group I was in, mostly the sporty types because, let’s be honest, we had damn near nothing in common, so wtf was I supposed to talk to them about? Yes, High School Me was an elitist fuck who didn’t like anyone who wasn’t my idea of an intellectual, but even if I hadn’t been, it wouldn’t have mattered, because I’d still have nothing to bond with these girls over.

Of course, that’s not what’s usually meant by ‘clique’, because every goddamn time, the image we get is of the popular kids, but if that’s what they mean, there’s still an issue there, that being that

2. Popular ≠ Bad Person

There’s this image of the kids who are popular in middle/high school as like, catty jackasses who aren’t really your friends and will treat you like garbage, which is uuuuuuuuuuhhhh

usually kind of divorced from reality.

Throughout my middle/high school experience, I’ve only encountered one IRL Regina George. I know some people have, my mom was familiar with those types, but here’s the thing about these kinds of people-usually, no one actually likes them. Maybe some people envy them bc money or looks or whatever, maybe they have a few suck-ups, but half the time people just think they’re assholes. The actual popular kids I knew? Were popular because they had a lot of genuine friends and legitimately good qualities. One of the popular girls I knew was popular because she was really friendly and smart and a good artist. And I know she was popular because she was on the student council every goddamn year and we all know that’s just a popularity contest. Most of the others just made a bunch of friends through sports or were generally really outgoing and nice. And maybe my high school was an outlier. Maybe it’s actually like Mean Girls at some schools, but from what I’ve heard from the people I know, those instances are rare.

I feel like some people just look at someone who has something they want and just decide that not only are the people who have that thing intrinsically bad, but the thing in question isn’t even that great anyway. And sometimes that’s true, sometimes it’s not. 

I think the thing that makes me mad is that this all stems from people not using words right (because I am, in the immortal words of Dr. Hastie Lanyon when describing Henry Jekyll, a hide-bound pedant) and making blanket statements, both of which piss me off royally.

I’ll uh

I’ll shut up now.

[meticulous-mot]

so,

a little rambling about me and art

since this is a blog I guess I'll start from the beginning?

(background music ig LOL)

---

basically, COVID hit and had us all locked up at home, so I like many other people saw it as an opportunity to acquire a new skill

I'd drawn in the past but never actually put any time towards getting good at it until then, using good ol' Proko videos as my guidance (and a bit of Sycra). the beginning was basically just really shit gesture drawings that I did daily, all up until the b e a n. hoo boy that bean. I became seriously prolific with it under my belt. like as far as I was concerned I needed to know basically NOTHING else. so I kinda rushed through the course (bad foundations!) from then onward because my ego got inflated

---

anyways I'm not gonna give a blow by blow, I got my first art tablet in march this year and since then I've drawn at least 3-4 days every week. but on one piece about a month ago I kinda just broke and decided "yeah, it's time to start fresh." since then I've been doing color studies, incorporating gesture more into my sketches, and practicing structure a bit and I've been having a really good time!! but I just can't shake that I kinda need to do… more

like, I can't satisfy myself rigorously practicing structure until I'm good, I like somewhat understand perspective but nowhere near enough, my gestures are leagues better but still kinda weak. and like I'm having fun, no art block no fear of a blank page, but I just keep thinking in the back of my head "what happens when I realize the mistakes I've been making over and over again and I don't like these pieces as much anymore?"

and of course as always there's envy of better artists who can do more in less time lol

---

that's my rambling, pretty much

I don't like the way that came out I kinda lost my voice with writing trying to fit in diff spaces and I just gotta get it back over time

I don't wanna start posting art bc reception and commitment start to take a toll on ya but at the same time I don't wanna sit on everything I've made forever so it's like… between a rock and a hard place 🤷 I'll figure it out!!!

think I'll start like reviewing music I like or something on here lol