#to now who is very willing to learn but only wants to draw the same things

[cherrysnax]

I guess what sucks abt art to me is that I have no real frame of reference in my head. I can’t picture things. I don’t plan drawings because I can’t See what other artists see.

irl everything is everything is kinda flat to me, I have to like remind myself self to see things as 3d if that makes a lick of sense. I struggle drawing boxes, circles, straight lines. if I don’t draw every like three days I forget how and regress like 3 years in art improvement- and that’s without added rustiness :/ it sucks but I don’t wanna do anything else but draw so 😫

[merakiui]

ebb and flow.

yandere!floyd leech x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, dub-con, nsfw, stepcest, obsession, getting high/use of edibles, reader is implied to have small breasts, octavinelle trio is human in this story, au with no magic, brief mention of alcohol use, brief mention of implied somnophilia, reader and trio are 18 in the last scene of the story (in case it isn't clear) note - like the tide, floyd's interests ebb and flow. you happen to be more than a passing fancy.

When he’s old enough to put his thoughts into words, Floyd declares, rather obnoxiously, that girls are gross and he wants nothing to do with them.

“All they ever wanna do is talk about dolls and dresses,” he laments, scuffing his shoe against the cobbles.

“You know I’m a girl, right?” You scoff and turn your nose up, mildly offended. “And not all girls are like that. I’m not like that.”

And it’s true. You give as good as you get. You lunge after Floyd when he yanks your favorite toys out of your hands or when he tugs on your hair, every infraction intentional. He knows just how to rile you up enough for you to give chase. You’re keen to wrestle him in the mud on rainy days in the same way he’s willing to race you up and down the streets to prove outlandish points.

Growing up with two brothers—though they aren’t your family by blood, referring to them as your step-brothers is a knotty mouthful you prefer to avoid—taught you things you never would have learned if you had a sister.

Perhaps their presence served to stoke the fires of playful violence—meaningless quarrels that were resolved in a matter of minutes, often punctuated with halfhearted apologies. Once, in the middle of a particularly nasty brawl, you kicked Floyd in the jaw and knocked his front tooth free. Morbidly amused, Jade applauded you for the show. Floyd held his bruised face in one hand, glaring viciously as blood dribbled from his lips. He reeled his arm back, but it never landed. Your father chewed the lot of you out before he could throw the punch.

“What are we going to do with you?” your mother would say while she patched the both of you up. “Always fighting like this… That’s not very nice now, is it?”

The twins’ mother died shortly after giving birth and so they never knew the concept of a mother until five years later when their father remarried. It was then when you joined their family of three, and the twins had taken to their new mother like fish in water. Adoringly, they would tug on her skirt and demand attention. She was all too happy to indulge them, lifting them into her arms one at a time.

“You know that means Mama and me, don’t you?” you add, skipping ahead of him.

“That’s different. Mama doesn’t count. She’s special.”

“What about me?”

Floyd takes one look at you and smiles that mean, mocking smile. “You’re even worse. You’ve got girl germs.”

You don’t bother granting him a head start. He’s already running.

On the cusp of a growth spurt, his face peppered in pimples, Floyd is only fifteen when you chase him out of your bedroom.

“Get out! Get out! Get out!” Your piercing shrieks and Floyd’s raucous laughter echo through the halls, drawing the perpetually curious Jade out of his room like a worm from an apple core.

He’s greeted with the sight of Floyd, who has clasped your bra around his head and is now parading about proudly. A plush octopus flies after him and smacks into the wall. Seconds later, you burst from your room with embarrassment painted on your face.

“Oh my.” Jade observes the scene unfold from behind his fist. His mismatched eyes glitter with mischief.

“You’re so tiny! Your boyfriend’s gonna fall in love with a shrimp!” Floyd sticks his tongue out at you. “Shrimpy (Name)! Shrimpy (Name)! I’ve got a shrimp for a sis!”

“That’s not funny, and Azul’s not my boyfriend!” You reach for him, but he avoids you with an agile sidestep. “Knock it off! Give it back!”

“But it fits me better.”

“It does not!” You turn to Jade and gesture wildly at Floyd, who is now batting his lashes like a princess. “Don’t just stand there! Help me out.”

“Oh, I’m afraid I’m much more suited to the sidelines. I wouldn’t want to interrupt your fun.”

You grit your teeth. “You ass—”

“So much noise! What in the world is going on here?”

Your mother makes her way up the stairs just as Floyd tugs the bra off his head. You round on her before the twins can. 

“Mooom, Floyd’s being gross. He stole my bra and won’t give it back.”

“Huuuh. No way. She’s totally framin’ me. I don’t have her bra.” Floyd folds his arms over his chest, feigning innocence. “That’s just icky. Why would I have it anyway?”

“Indeed,” Jade agrees coyly, pretending to search for it. “No bra in sight.”

“You’re liars—you and Jade!” You sneer at them. They merely smile angelically. “I’ll kick both of you in your dicks if you don’t—”

“(Name), mind your language!” Sighing, your mother issues both boys a stern frown. “Floyd, sweetheart, it’s not nice to tease your sister. You as well, Jade. Return what you stole and apologize.” She bends down to retrieve the fallen plush and passes it to you. “You too, (Name). You’re family. Family shouldn’t fight.”

“I don’t owe him an apology.”

“And I don’t have her bra.”

“He’s lying! Floyd was in my room, digging through my clothes.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Yeah-huh!”

Jade smiles wide enough to reveal the braces on his teeth. “Now that (Name) mentions it, I did see Floyd sneaking about. Oh, but maybe that’s not right. I only caught a glimpse, after all.” 

Floyd has no reason to look so betrayed. Jade oscillates between sides whenever it sates his hunger for amusement. Today, as luck would have it, he’s on your side. For now.

“If you’re as innocent as you claim, surely there’s no reason to keep your arms clasped behind your back.”

“You really don’t have anyone’s back, do you?”

“Floyd…” Your mother looks at him expectantly, her eyes soft despite her tone.

He thrusts his arm out and drops your bra. “Fine. Take it back. Wasn’t havin’ any fun with it anyways.”

“Honestly, you’re such a pervert,” you snap, swiping it from the floor. “Next time you wanna come in my room, you’d better knock first. How would you like it if I went into your and Jade’s room and stole one of your shirts?”

He sticks his tongue out at you, defiant like the brat he is. If your mother wasn’t standing behind you, you’d have exacted your revenge right then.

“(Name), be nice to your brother. Floyd, apologize to your sister.”

Floyd doesn’t look you in the eyes when he spits a mean-sounding, “Sorry.”

Jade can only snicker, feasting on this live entertainment like it’s the richest meal.

“And I’m sooo sorry you’re annoying and everyone’s gotta put up with you.” With an exasperated huff, you strut back into your room and slam the door shut. It locks with a loud click.

“Give her some time. She just needs to cool down,” you hear your mother explain. “But, really, you should know better, Floyd. It’s not right to go into anyone’s room and take their things.”

“I would never do something so egregious, Mother,” Jade admits, which you find hard to believe because he’s just as sly, if not more so, than his twin.

“She’s just mad I’m funnier than her,” Floyd says. A blatant falsehood if you’ve ever heard one.

You could never understand Floyd’s obsession with your laundry. Maybe he was just your typical hormone-addled teenager with nothing better to do but fantasize about women and their undergarments, and seeing as you were the only girl he was close to—both in age and as siblings—who else could bear the brunt of his delinquency?

Or it had nothing to do with that at all, and he was just determined to be as much of a pest as possible.

Back then, that made sense.

Back then, you were foolish.

Back then, you didn’t know. No one did. Not really.

Lying between your brothers, lost in thought, you stare at the plastic stars and planets pasted to your ceiling. A dulcet adagio trickles out of the tiny speaker on your bedside table. The honeyed vocals soften the static in your brain, snuffing every burden with beautiful bossa nova. You soak in every lyric, imagining yourself in the singer’s position: falling for someone in midnight blue, blooming beneath their touch, your dress falling to your ankles, exploring each other’s shorelines…

The fantasy floats away as soon as Floyd opens his mouth, and you’re brought back to reality. No lover in your arms. No midnight blue. No flowering feelings. No dress.

“When’s this stuff supposed to kick in? I don’t feel a thing.”

“Patience,” Jade murmurs, practically melting into the mattress. “You’ll know once it happens.”

“Well, I don’t. Your shit sucks.”

“As does your attitude.”

“Whatever.” Floyd snuggles closer to you, pulling your arm into his chest. “What about you, Shrimpy? You feel it yet?”

“Mmh, sorta… I dunno. Don’t call me that.”

“Once a shrimp, always a shrimp.”

“I did offer the other half.”

“I’ll take it if I feel like it.” You shake Floyd off and pout at Jade. “Mom and Dad’ll lose it if they find out, you know.”

Jade flashes his teeth at you in a cheeky grin. “I’m counting on you to be a sweet, dependable sister and keep my little secret safe.”

“Lips are sealed.”

“What a good pet you are. So obedient.”

You exhale a soft, gasping laugh. “You’re so weird.”

“But you’re smiling.”

“Only because you’re weird!”

He giggles and leans in close, his nose brushing yours. When he speaks again, it’s in a softer tone, near-hypnotic. “So you do feel it.”

“Maybe.”

With a petulant whine, Floyd presses himself against you from behind. “No fair. I wanna be all silly like you and Jade. Gimme the other half. I’ll take it right now.”

“You can grab it.”

“You’re closer.”

“Alas… My limbs are lead.”

“Asshole,” Floyd gripes, leaning over you and Jade to swipe the box from the bedside table. He often keeps his stash there. Sometimes it’s stocked with gummy edibles or mushrooms, all wrapped in plastic. Jade’s resourceful like a squirrel, crafty in ways you can’t fathom.

Today, you’re holed up in your room because you have a bigger bed. There are fairy lights strung up on the walls, providing the space with just enough dimness for you to see your surroundings. It’s the perfect ambience for this slow, lazy Saturday in November. Your parents are out for the afternoon and won’t be back until later, and you couldn’t be any happier to have the house to yourself.

As soon as the door shut, you exchanged knowing looks with your brothers and hurried back to your room. Jade told you he’d take you and Floyd to his favorite spot in the forest after midterms and then the lot of you could truly kick back and relax with some pre-rolls. He’d invite Azul and make it a picnic in the woods. A whole day filled with fun. In your heart, it would be a date. Your brothers would just be the unwanted third and fourth wheels.

Really, you could care less about getting high. Azul is more than a drug—he’s oxygen—and you crave him like an addict feens for a fix. Floyd thinks your crush on him is stupid and misplaced. You beg to differ. You’ve admired him since childhood. How could you possibly fall out of love now?

Floyd flops back into the empty space beside you, chewing the rest of the gummy worm. His arm drapes across your waist. “What’re we doin’ tomorrow?”

“I’m going to the library to study with Azul.”

“Lame.”

“You’re not invited.” You roll over on your side to address him, speaking slowly. “Don’t show up.”

“Now I kinda want to. I wanna see what you and Azul get up to.”

“Studying.”

“Mmh, I doubt that.” Jade sticks to you like moss, his eyes fluttering shut. “Azul’s studying, at least. You’re daydreaming.”

“Not my fault he’s cute.”

“I’m cuter.” Floyd’s lips turn down in a disappointed moue. “Ain’t I cute?”

“No way. You’re ugly.”

“I’m inclined to agree.”

“No one asked you, Jade. ‘Sides, ain’t that basically the same as sayin’ you’re ugly, too?”

“I dunno,” he mumbles dumbly, the words muffled in your shoulder. “What do you think, (Name)?”

“Get yourself a girlfriend and then you can ask her.”

“Won’t you be my stand-in girlfriend?”

“Yeah, that’s good.” Floyd curls his fingers around the strap of your tank top. He tugs it up and down your arm in a languid rhythm. You’re floating amongst the clouds, your mind filled with a pleasant fuzz, so scolding him isn’t a priority. “Forget about bein’ our sis for a sec.”

“Get lost.”

“How cold…” Jade sniffles.

“Shrimpy’s ruthless.”

“Stop calling me that.”

Floyd’s hand crawls across your chest to grope you through your shirt. “Mmh, nope. Still small.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“I think you’re sized just right.” Jade’s spidery digits creep along your hip and splay across your stomach. “Azul won’t even notice. He doesn’t pay attention to your assets like we do.”

“I wish he would.” You meet Jade’s half-lidded stare. “Does he talk about me?”

“In what context? You’ll need to be specific,” he purrs, and if you weren’t swimming in bliss you’d elbow him in the mouth.

It’s like pulling teeth with Jade. He makes things so irritatingly difficult for no reason.

“You know the context.”

“Sometimes he says stuff,” Floyd replies instead. He rests his head in the crook of your neck and inhales the sugary notes of your perfume.

“Good stuff?”

Vibrating with a woozy warmth, you squirm between your brothers. It’s stifling being in the middle of their sandwich, but the proximity is pleasing. Comfortable. Reassuring. You feel like an anchored ship between the both of them, safely pinned down amidst the tumultuous waves of your bedsheets. You sigh dreamily when Floyd’s legs twine around yours.

“He thought your sweater was real cute.”

“Which one?”

“All of ’em.”

“Hmm. Okay.” But that doesn’t satisfy you. “What type of girl is he into?”

“Why don’t you make him your boyfriend? Then you can find out,” Jade says.

He aims for a sharp smile and falls short. It mellows out into something stupid and lopsided. He thinks he’s the funniest creature on the planet, and in this moment he is because the retort has you snowballing into a fit of giggles.

“Maybe I will.”

Floyd tracks your throat as it bobs with every swallow. He glances at your jaw next, at the glitters speckled on your cheeks. They sparkle like miniature stars, an entire galaxy imprinted on your skin. “You’re wearin’ makeup.”

“Hm?”

“Perfume, too. Smells good.”

“I bought some when I went to the mall.”

“When?”

“Last week? Two weeks ago? I can’t remember.”

“You doin’ it for Azul?”

“Who else? Certainly not you.”

Floyd scowls at Jade. “Don’t answer for her. I wanna hear it from her.”

“You’re my brother. Why would it be for you?” you mumble, more confused than unsettled.

Obviously it’s for Azul.

“Why not? It’s not fair other guys get to see ya lookin’ this good. Why should I be excluded just cuz I’m your brother?”

His lips drag against your neck. There’s nothing special about his affection. It’s dubiously platonic, but you’re used to it. He’s always been prone to expressing himself through physical means. Too-tight hugs, pecks on the cheek, a gentle squeeze in clasped hands. It was cute when you were children, but now you’re seventeen and it’s getting harder to explain his clingy nature.

“I don’t care what other guys think.”

“Just Azul?” Jade prompts, toying with the hem of your top. His fingers slide beneath it to prod at your navel, and suddenly Azul is no longer the most important part of this conversation. “Have you ever considered piercing it?”

“What? My belly button?”

“Ooh, good idea. You could match jewelry with us. How about it? I’ll getcha some sturgeon scales.”

“Mom’ll kill me.”

“In that case, we’re both dead.”

You blink at Jade, searching for the meaning in his mismatched hues. He opens his mouth, unfurling his tongue to reveal the venom piercing. The shock washes over you like a wave, and just as it’s receding it hits you—what you’re looking at.

“Your tongue! You actually—since when?”

“Two weeks.”

“What the hell! Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve come with. Moral support and stuff.”

He laughs when you nudge him. “It wasn’t so bad. I’d like to get more.”

“Does Dad know?”

“Not at all.”

“Dangerous.”

“Thrilling,” he corrects, a minacious glint in his gaze.

“Jade’s changin’ up his whole look. Super cool, ain’t it?”

“And what about you?” You turn over towards Floyd. His hands settle on your lower back. He all but tugs you away from Jade, who frowns and shuffles closer until his hips press against your ass. You feel his mouth at your bare shoulder, lavishing it with little pecks. “Do you want more piercings?”

“You into guys with piercings?”

“I don’t really care. Piercings are great. Tattoos, too.”

“Then I’ll get a tattoo.”

“So it’s settled. (Name) will pierce her navel, and Floyd will get a tattoo.”

“Sure,” you agree, but you don’t expect anything to come out of it. Just a random idea thrown around in the haze of your high.

You’re closer than family should be, but that’s the last thing on your mind when you’re twisted between them. This is normal. At least, it’s the normal you’ve grown up with.

What isn’t normal, though, is Floyd’s insistence that he ought to shape himself into the man of your dreams when, clearly, the man of your dreams goes by the name of Azul Ashengrotto. But you’re not worried. It’s always said in jest, or you assume it’s in jest.

In the back of your mind, you wonder if Azul would like you more if you had a pretty piercing to show off.

You’re weeks away from prom when Azul says yes.

“Wait… Really? Seriously?”

“I was under the impression we were all going,” he says with that charismatic chuckle you love dearly. “As a group, yes?”

Your hopes plummet alongside pieces of your heart. “Oh. Y-Yeah, right. A group. Of course.”

“I do appreciate the poster, though.” He holds it up as if it’ll reveal a secret message when caught in the sun. The cartoon octopus you spent hours sketching, lining, and coloring smiles back at him. “‘It would be so tenta-cool if you could be the sea to my shore at prom.’ How ingeniously cheesy.”

Your laughter is hollow. That’s the last time I’m asking Jade for advice on ocean puns.

“I’m glad you think so… Hey, you’re coming over before the dance, right? We’re thinking of doing something.”

“A party before the party?” Azul rolls the poster up and carefully fits it into his messenger bag. It sticks out from under the flap. “I’m not opposed. What did you have in mind?”

“We could get dinner.” Just the two of us. “Whatever you want, really. My dad’s planning to send us there in a limo. Real classy, y’know.”

Azul falls into step with you. “If that’s the case, we might as well go all out.”

Sensing an in, you stare at him. “The girls in my class are going on and on about how prom’s gotta be this magical thing. It can’t get more magical than a fancy car.”

“Goodness. It’s really not that special. You can’t exactly put ‘Prom Queen’ on your resume now, can you?”

“No, but you can make lots of memories. So I was thinking—hypothetically, of course—if you’d wanna go as, like, my fake date. Like, we’re going as a group and everything, but if you want we could get flowers for each other and match outfits and… B-Basically, I’m just trying to see if there’s any merit to what they’re saying about prom. About it being magical with a date.”

“Hm… That’s true. It will be our final social event before we graduate and go out into the world. Our last chance to say and do whatever we’ve neglected in previous years.”

“Right.”

“I wouldn’t mind.” His stare is fixed firmly on the path ahead. “Hypothetically speaking, of course.”

“So…” You swallow your anxieties; your heart is in your throat. “So you’ll be my hypothetical date?”

“I would be honored.”

“Okay. A-All right… Yeah! Great!”

Azul’s pretty blues briefly flick over to you. His cheeks are tinged pink. “Wonderful. I… I’m pleased we’ve worked this out. All hypotheticals, naturally.”

“Yeah, definitely. Just hypothetical.”

“Did…you have a color in mind? Have you picked a dress yet?”

“Something pink or purple. Maybe red. I’m not really sure.”

“Blue would be very flattering on you.” As an afterthought, he scrambles to add, “But that’s just another hypothetical.”

You watch the way he wrings the strap of his bag. “I agree. Blue’s a good color.”

“Isn’t it?”

“I could wear you.” You regret it the moment it leaves your mouth, even more so when Azul raises a bewildered brow. “B-Because your name—no, sorry. That’s dumb. I don’t mean it in the crazy-murderer-who-skins-you-alive way. I meant in the way that’s like—”

“Cheek to cheek?”

“Yeah. No, yeah, that’s right.”

What am I saying? None of this makes any sense. 

Azul laughs and nudges you playfully. “You can wear me. Hypothetically, I’m your date to the dance. It’s only right that I act as your accessory for the evening.”

“Then… T-Then let’s be each other’s garments!”

He hums his approval and the conversation dies there.

You make the rest of the walk out of school in awkward silence. At the gates, Azul turns to you.

“None of this is hypothetical, is it?”

You heave a relieved breath. “Not at all.”

“Then allow me to do away with pretending. I’ll be your prom date. Factually.”

“My factual prom date…”

“It…doesn’t sound as smooth as a hypothetical.”

“But it’s real.”

He smiles shyly. “That it is.”

On the night of prom, alone in an empty corridor, Floyd yanks you into a rough kiss. The music from the ballroom is so loud you can faintly hear it from down the hall. It pulses through you with energetic vibrations, joining your panic in an unsteady duet. You push at Floyd’s chest, struggling against the wall he has you pinned to. He breaks off halfway just to savor your gasp before moving in to reclaim your mouth. It’s a ravenous action. He kisses you like he intends to devour you, licking and nipping at every possible crevice. His teeth click against yours as he endeavors to taste the wine at the back of your throat—courtesy of sneaky, rebellious Jade and his discreet water bottle.

Finally, after gathering enough strength, you shove him off of you. He stumbles, hurt flashing across his face. Ferociously hot up to your ears, your heart stumbling in your rib cage, you can’t believe it. You don’t want to believe it.

That wasn’t real… No way…

Still processing it, you smudge your lipstick when you wipe the drool from your mouth.

You and Floyd watch each other in silence. You’re waiting for him to break it. He’s waiting for you to run away.

“What…was that?”

“You were cozyin’ up to Azul—”

“Because he’s my date!”

“Yeah, but you—Shrimpy, c’mon, you know we agreed to go as a group…”

“And so what? That doesn’t give you the right to kiss me. I was going to—I had an entire plan for this. Azul was gonna be my first kiss!”

“Well, now he’s gonna hafta be second.”

You sputter in shock. “You—you’re so… I just… Wow.”

Floyd’s face hardens and softens and then hardens again. He looked like a kicked puppy a few minutes ago, cowardly and small, but now there’s determination smoldering in his stare.

“I like ya. I like ya a whole lot.” You open your mouth to protest, but he beats you to it. “More than a sister.”

And there it is—the truth you couldn’t confront.

Your frustration withers and blooms anew in a complicated tangle of weeds. “You…like me. Like… Like me, like me?”

Floyd cards a hand through his slicked hair and exhales a heavy breath. “I mean… It’s obvious, ain’t it?”

“Floyd, I… I’m sorry, but I like Azul. You know this.” Now it’s your turn to cut him off before he can speak. “You’re family, Floyd. My brother.”

“So what?”

“It’s wrong, that’s what! We’re family. That’s all we’ve ever been… Look—I don’t have time for this. Azul and Jade are gonna wonder where we went. We can talk about this tomorrow.”

You brush past him, hoping to leave this conversation here and pick it up after the dance. But Floyd won’t have that. He seizes your wrist and tugs you around.

“Just…” He avoids your stare. “Just hear me out, okay? I just wanna love ya.”

“So love me like a normal brother.” You try to pull yourself free, but he holds firm. “I really don’t have time to argue. Actually, this isn’t something I should have to argue in the first place.”

“We’re not related in that way. It’s fine, isn’t it?” He grabs your waist and drags you close.

“Mom and Dad won’t think so. Azul won’t. Honestly, Floyd, let it go. We’ll talk later. Please just—”

“You really don’t get it, do you?”

You inhale slowly, forcing yourself to remain calm. “No, I don’t. I really don’t.”

“I’ve wanted ya longer than Azul—than Jade. Longer than anyone. And I never got to have ya.” Floyd plasters you to the wall again, but this time he slots a knee between your thighs. “Drove me crazy every time I saw ya walkin’ around the house in those stupid shorts or when you’d bring your friends over and you’d wear that stupid nightgown. The soft one with the lace and bows. The one that’s so thin it shows your shrimpy tits.”

Your glower is so blistering it could melt him down to his bones. “You’re disgusting.”

“Maybe.” He laughs, but it isn’t funny. “Didja know? I wanted to kiss you in your sleep. Touch you all over. Stick my fingers in you and watch you squirm… Feel how tight you are when you cling to my cock. You’re still a virgin, ain’tcha? Azul hasn’t done it with you yet, right?”

You yelp when his hand slips under the ruffles of your dress and climbs up your thigh. “W-Wait—stop! Don’t—”

“Gonna take that as a no.”

“Floyd—”

“See? Can’t you say my name instead of his? You don’t gotta daydream with me around. I’ll make you feel good. You don’t need that stupid dildo when you’ve got me.”

His fingers press against the outline of your pussy, teasing you through the fabric. Your body goes rigid. “Y-You can’t… Not here. Someone might see.”

“Let ’em. Then they’ll know you’re all mine.” Floyd noses your throat and deflates against you, hedonistic and selfish. “You always smell so fuckin’ good. Like candy. Sweet and yummy. Makes me wanna bite you and never let go. Taste your shrimpy heartbeat in my mouth…”

“S-Seriously…” You squeeze your eyes shut and bite back a whimper when he squeezes your clit. “Get off of me. You can’t—you’re my brother.”

“Nah. Brothers don’t go around stealin’ their sister’s stuff and usin’ it to get off, do they?”

It occurs to you that you should be furious with him. He deserves more than just your ire. Instead, you can only feel intoxicated as you listen to him ramble filth.

“Remember that pair of panties you thought was clean? The ones with the stain.”

“Yeah, the ones I use when I’m on my period—”

“Not those. The other one.”

“W-What—” You slap your hand over your mouth to muffle your gasp. He rubs you in slow, deliberate circles. With dimming focus, you try to think of anything else—of boring, bland things—to fight off mounting arousal. “What about it?”

“I had that pair wrapped around my dick before you put ’em on.”

“So that was—the stain was—”

“Mhm.”

“Ew! You’re the worst! That was my favorite pair, Floyd!”

He snickers. “At least it wasn’t you. My old man’ll beat my ass if I knock ya up. Had to use the next best thing.”

“Use your hand, dumbass! Don’t use my stuff!”

“Then stop fuckin’ yourself on your dildo. I hear you through the bathroom door, y’know. Moanin’ like you’re in heat. All of it for Azul. I wanted to come in and help ya out every time, but I couldn’t. And that really ate at me.”

“I don’t want your help,” you spit, glaring.

“No? But you’re so wet. I think my fingers will slip riiight in.” He pulls your panties to the side and prods at your folds. “You wanna test it?”

You shake your head a second too late. Floyd’s already pushing two fingers inside. The breath sticks in your throat. He’s actually doing this, right here in the open. Someone could turn down the hall and spot you. That someone could be—

“A-Azul might catch us. Stop. You really can’t…”

“Aww. What? Don’t want Azul seein’ you like this? Don’t want him to see the mess you’re making? Don’t want him knowing you like being wrapped around your brother’s fingers?”

He’s mean when he curls them suddenly, a brute and a bully all at once. They press against wet, velvety walls, and the noisy squelch leaves you shuddering. You breathe heavily, little huffs that tremble sweetly as he stretches you out.

“S-Shut up. You’re a pervert.”

“That makes two of us.”

You yank him closer by his tie, intending to be threatening and failing. “I’m gonna kill you.”

“Sure you are.”

Without warning, he reaches for your chest and yanks your strapless dress down to reveal your breasts. Your perky nipples poke out against the lingerie tape. He whistles lowly while he marvels at them.

“Still the same pair of shrimpy tits.”

“Nuh-uh. I went up a size.”

“Yeah-huh. I would know. I steal your bras all the time. Same cup size, Shrimpy.”

“So you’re depraved and shameless.”

“No reason to hide it anymore.”

He drags his fingers out and thrusts them back in. You choke on a stifled moan. Deep down in a logical corner of your brain, you know you shouldn’t submit so easily. It’s wrong, but you can’t stop the pleasure that washes over you with every stroke of his fingers. It sends pleasant bolts of bliss up your spine. Your knees wobble, and your thighs are sticky with your slick. When he grinds his thumb against your clit, forcefully insistent, something in your stomach snaps. You come undone in an instant, crashing against a sinful shore. Orgasm wracks through you in a powerful tremor, shaking the thoughts in your skull like a disturbed ecosystem in a terrarium.

Unrelenting, he fucks you through it. You’re boneless in the aftermath, chest heaving and mind reeling.

Floyd’s fingers glide out with ease, shimmering with your juices. He puts them in his mouth to savor the taste of you, his tongue slithering between the space of both digits. Horrifyingly, you admire him as he licks himself clean. Even though you shouldn’t, you wish desperately to feel that muscle inside you, working you towards another grand peak.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You’re still in a daze when Floyd fixes your panties and dress. You look presentable, if not slightly debauched. Your makeup is a mess, and Floyd’s all too eager to fix it for you. You stand still when he wipes at the corner of your mouth with his thumb and then carefully applies lipstick. Within no time, you’re back to how you were.

“Lookin’ good,” he praises, stuffing the tube in his pocket. “The prettiest Shrimpy at the party. They should make you Prom Queen.”

You swat at him. “Don’t…” And then you sigh. What does it matter? He’s going to call you that regardless of what you think.

Thankfully, the slow dance is only just beginning when you return. You find Azul lingering near the wall, tapping anxiously at his phone. Jade’s also there. Physically. You can’t say the same for his head. He’s taking a trip in his own mental paradise. Floyd stalks after you, his hands stuffed in his pockets. If you didn’t just squirt around his fingers minutes ago, you would’ve assumed the atmosphere of the party was to blame for his euphoria. But you know the real reason.

Azul doesn’t, though.

So it’s with a guilty heart when you lead him onto the dance floor for a waltz.

Your childhood crush—the guy you’ve loved more than life itself—is right in front of you, looking at you like you’ve hung the stars, but the only one you can think of is your step-brother.

That can’t be a good sign.

Floyd joins Jade in his corner. He gazes through him and offers his water bottle. It’s nerdy enough for its contents to be unassuming, what with its mushroom print, but Floyd knows better than to take it at face value. Even so, he grabs hold of it and downs what’s left of the wine. It’s so sweet it sticks to the roof of his mouth.

“Azul’s not staying the night, is he?”

“I’m not sure.” Jade finds you and Azul in the crowd of dancers and hums. “How cruel of you to want to separate them.”

“He’s not gettin’ laid tonight if that’s what he thinks. Not if I can help it.”

“I don’t think he even knows how.”

Floyd laughs. “Nah. He knows.”

“Does he now?”

“C’mon, Jade. He undresses her every time he looks at her.”

“I suppose so.” He smiles moonily, distracted. “She’ll never let you.”

“She won’t let you either.”

“I don’t mind a little pain. To be bloodied and bruised by her gentle hands… I know of no greater exhilaration.”

Floyd rolls his eyes. “Azul’s got it lucky. He gets to hug and kiss her whenever he wants. Meanwhile, I’ve gotta pretend like I don’t wanna fuck her shrimpy brains out every time I get a whiff of her perfume.”

“The odds aren’t very favorable, but I suspect you’ve already had your fun.”

Floyd grins wickedly. “She’s cute. I couldn’t help it.”

“I must agree. She sounds sweetest when she’s caught in the throes of pleasure.”

Floyd starts to nod and then pauses. “How do you know—”

“Oh my. It appears I’ve said too much.”

“No, no. Keep talkin’. You haven’t said nearly enough.”

“You’re not her only brother, you know.”

Floyd thinks there’s more to that sentence, but Jade isn’t willing to get into the details. Not here, at least. He doesn’t have to pry too deeply to understand the hidden implications.

“Asshole. You went and did it before I could.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jade giggles. “A little midnight snacking never hurts. She’s soft and snug inside. Very warm.”

Floyd shoves him away. “Fuck off.”

As long as it’s not Azul, he thinks, watching him as he spins you like a gentleman. Anyone but him.

[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

Sometimes when Harry looks at Tom, he's reminded of a lesson one of his muggle teachers gave on reptiles. Chameleons that can change their skin colour to blend into their surroundings or anoles that shed their tails to distract a predator and escape – adapting in order to survive, no matter what it takes.

Harry is himself, to a fault. He spent so long beaten down and trying to disappear so he wouldn’t draw his relatives’ ire that he now refuses to hide or apologise for who he is and what he wants. It probably helps that his wants are pretty basic – good food, good friends, a warm, comfortable place to live, someone to love him – and that he inherited the money and name to easily achieve them.

Tom, on the other hand, is so used to being smoke and mirrors and disguising what he wants and what he is in order to pretend to be what others want or need. 

He’d been unapologetically (and tyrannically) himself in his childhood, his magic giving him the power to exert his will over others. But Tom is brilliant and a quick learner, and his first interaction with Dumbledore, which he’d described late one night to Harry when the shadows hid both their faces, had proven a subtler touch might be needed.

Now, Tom reflects other peoples’ desires back at them in order to draw them in, and deflects the conversation away from himself so he never has to clearly define his own position. He doesn’t change himself, but everyone seems to believe Tom is on their side – that they’re on the same page. And because of his power and charm and good looks, everyone wants Tom on their side.

Harry has seen this happen many, many times, and he’s still in awe of how Tom affably manipulates those around him into doing what he wants. How Tom determines what someone wants, says just enough to convince them he does too without committing to anything, and twists that connection into a shape that best suits him.

In fact, the only reason Harry believes Tom actually likes him is because Tom never pretends to be what he thinks Harry wants him to be. Tom is petty and says cruel things and lets Harry see him when he’s less than perfectly put together. And Harry treasures each of Tom’s sharp edges, because he’s the only one who gets to see him as he is. He hoards each truth and preference that Tom chooses to share with him like a squirrel preparing for a long, hard winter.

The trouble comes when people talk to Harry about Tom. By virtue of association, Harry’s had to learn to deflect and prevaricate and lie, though he’s still not very good at it. He does a lot of nodding and smiling and making thoughtful “hmm” sounds as people ask him what Tom thinks of this or that. It’s easier than keeping Tom’s machinations straight in his head.

There are moments when Harry isn’t sure Tom even knows who he is at his core. He is so meticulous about his public persona that Harry doubts anyone else knows which foods Tom actually likes (given the chance, Tom would eat ice cream every day), or what he actually thinks about quidditch (he finds it unbearably dull), or what he thinks of muggles (he’ll never be fond of them due to his treatment as a child, but he doesn’t particularly care beyond that) or muggleborns (new blood is necessary for the magical world to continue, but the mages with the deepest pockets are the most bigoted and ‘traditional’) or purebloods (gullible).

And after the tenth meal of eating foods he doesn’t like, or the fifth quidditch match or ministry event or pureblood soirée in a week, or the nth political tapdance before the Wizengamot, pretending to represent everyone’s interests at once without alienating anyone – and quietly getting his own agenda voted through – Harry has to wonder how Tom stays sane. How it all seems worth it. It certainly doesn’t to Harry.

But that’s Tom. Ambitious to a fault, and willing to sacrifice almost anything in order to achieve his goals.

And whatever other people might think, Harry’s not naive. He knows there’s a chance Tom is lying to him, too. He knows it’s possible – even likely – that Tom figured out that the best way to get Harry on his side would be to give him the best illusion of the truth. Show him some darkness and Harry will believe he’s getting honesty. He’s made his peace with this and decided he’d rather give Tom the benefit of the doubt and be a fool than abandon the other man when he’d chosen to be vulnerable with Harry.

So, when Harry brings home Indian takeaway and offers Tom a bite of his rogan josh, only for Tom to casually say, “I don’t really like lamb,” Harry is fascinated and utterly thrilled.

Especially since he’d seen Tom eat lamb chops at a dinner party two weeks ago with nary a moment of hesitation or complaint.

Harry makes sure to leave plenty of the chicken tikka masala for Tom and mentally notes this new preference down. He’s collected a new fact about Tom.

He spends the rest of the meal with a silly little grin on his face.

[artofchira]

As someone else who's in the process of burning out just surviving, and has lost sight of why I enjoyed art in the first place, would you be willing to share some of the things you've tried to get back on your feet? Super glad that you're doing so much better, btw.

First: It's actually become a job for me to help artists reconnect to their art through my mentorship workshop with everything I have learned, and I consider myself very good at it. I've been doing it for about 4 years now. If you or any other artist would like direct help with recovering from burn out please check out the service page of my website and testimonials from previous clients.

To answer your question:

A lot of my own personal stabilization just came as a result of wanting the experience of making art to be comfortable. It wasn't a choice anymore. After my father passed I relaxed for about 3 months -- longest I went without drawing in my life since I started freelancing -- and when I sat back at my desk I just couldn't make myself work under the same pressure. I'd try to force myself to draw and it made me want to cry instead. I quickly learned I could only create if I felt comfortable and drawing felt gentle, so I had to accept moving forward if I wanted to continue being as productive as before I needed to find a way of working that eliminated stress or using will power, which means working in a way that was renovated from the ground up. I couldn't go back. How I was making art was over. I needed it to be repaired. I had no idea what that looked like, so it was truly trial and error.

A fact about me is I have a very high sensory/pain threshold naturally (I also recently learned I was autistic over the pandemic, imagine that has something to do with it) so I've always been historically bad at ignoring my physical limitations because I rarely felt them unless my body broke down on me, and when it did I treated myself with annoyance and forced myself to work through it. I'm talking like no sleeping for 3-4 days straight, or coming home after a kidney stone to finish a comic page still shaky on pain and morphine and then feeling bad at myself for being lazy. To say my old work habits were highly self abusive is an understatement. So when I started addressing everything that was an inconvenience and uncomfortable, it ended up correcting everything I was ignoring or failed to consider a problem until it was past due.

To cut a long story short, a list of material changes to my life that improved my health:

I got medicated, finally. I'm extremely bipolar. Always have been. Drawing between periods of oscillating between feeling divinely invincible vs ideating suicide every waking moment vastly became easier to manage.

I got glasses. I'm farsighted, but it was never a problem for me since I could see fine -- ooor so I thought. Turns out when you're farsighted you're focusing constantly without even realizing it. Turns out getting glasses gave me 80% of my mental space back so I suddenly had more energy, generally more awake, and more focused. No one talks about farsightedness so I had absolutely no idea I was burning myself out physically just being able to see. Worth mentioning!

Started seeing a massage therapist and a chiropractor regularly. I always thought of those things as luxuries, not necessities. Which was extremely stupid. Maintaining my physical body through directly working out kinks in it became something like brushing my teeth or showering -- it's just something you do to make sure health and hygiene isn't making you dysfunctional and rotting you. My body no longer breaks down.

For the same reasons as above, maintained seeing my therapist regularly even if I felt fine or had no issues to work out. I realized I was always quick to end support as soon as I felt I didn't need it anymore (again treating it as a luxury) so making the space in my life for mental/emotional check ins kept my head organized. My therapist is bewildered by me and has no idea what to do with me because she feels she's not doing anything. I just tell her by me making the space for me to explain myself at all, even if all I was doing was describing how I was fine, was the help. She's great.

Got a cappuccino machine. May seem stupid but being able to make gourmet coffees from my kitchen every morning really genuinely improved my life and mind more than getting medicated.

Got a dog. He's amazing. I love him. Very warm and loving companion, and such a gentle soul. He keeps me out of my head and gets me prioritizing walks every day, so my vitamin D intake increased massively. I don't have the luxury of staying in bed for 3 days straight in my depressive episodes anymore. I have to make the effort to leave it at least twice a day to walk and feed him and play with him. Like most people, I'm terrible at prioritizing for myself but will move worlds for those I love no matter where I'm at.

For personal habits I just reflected a lot on why I felt I had to will myself to draw when drawing is something I love doing most. It made no sense to resent doing what you devote yourself to doing. I changed -- and still changing -- my mental framing in how I think of working on art for it to be something I'm eager to do, not obligated to.

Hope this was educational.

[bluheaven-adw]

WATCH THE WHOLE THING! Trust me 😏

It's here!!!!!!! I hope this was worth the wait :)

Images and information on a DTIYS below the jump!

This first bit of this might be familiar as it's been posted before. New stuff added at end!

Dark Excalibur Au

Everything happens exactly the same up to then very end of Wizards. The only difference being Jim is able to pull Excalibur then, on his own, making him Nimue's champion. Nimue grants him his crown and restores the trollhunter amulet to him. (Sorry Douxie and Krel, you'll get your time to shine later).. this is when Excalibur's aesthetic changes.

While Jim is 100% human now, he's not without after effects from being a troll. Not much physically (a bit stronger and faster), but personality wise... he's a bit more feral, confident, not really any trace of his former anxieties (except when it comes to Claire). He's not without fear (we don't need gritshaka Jim here...) but has mastery over it. Sometimes he can get a bit more... chaotic and temperamental... than before, but despite that, he's still Jim to his core. Despite all that he's been through, he's still ultimately kind, pure of heart, always tries to do the right thing, fiercely protective of those he loves.... as Blinky put it, a man of honor, courage and valor.

He's stopped fighting his destiny and stepped into it fully instead.

To quote Sakon...

Jim's problem has always been that he cares too much, and the anger inside him burns against the injustice of the world. It's Jim against the world, and the world /will move.

He still has way to much in the self sacrificial department…... but usually remembers that he has a team... literally the roundtable... a wizard, a sorceress... and a literal goddess….. backing him up.

START OF NEW:

You'll notice the blade is whole, not just repaired. Nimue, who for obvious reasons, is not a fan of merlin or arthur... originally only repaired Excalibur's blade instead of healing it. The fractures remained as a check on its power.. kind of like a short circuit. Jim gets no such hobbling. He's entrusted with Excalibur's full power. And if Sakon will allow me to borrow again, his check is in the gem in his crown, but it's only temporary as he learns to control Excalibur's power, and his newfound station and abilities... just a bit of a reminder, but one he rarely, if ever, needs.

There is no incantation on the amulet. It's not needed anymore. All Jim needs to do is think it, and it's there. Excalibur is not tied to the amulet like Daylight was. He can use it without the armor, or dematerialize it if wanted. The armor has two forms, much like Daylight and Eclipse, the 2nd is only a thought away. Normally a steely blue grey, it can shift to black, and if Jim really leans into the power of Excalibur then the whole thing, from crown to blade, turns pitch and lights up. There's so much magic running through him from the sword that his eyes glow with it.

Someone on IG asked if the Dark/Feral bits denoted corruption or Jim gone rogue. The Dark just denotes the color change for Excalibur. No corruption! It's just rockin the black instead of gold. As for feral.... in the sense that he's a tad more aggressive, more willing to finish the fight so to speak. He's got a little wildness, a little otherworldly magic, to him (not in the sense that he's a wizard, just that he's got the magic of Excalibur and being goddess touched).

Now, for the DTIYS!

Rules are

Draw it in your style!

Please no tracing, I want to see what you come up with

Use #DarkExcaliburDTIYS when you post!

Tag me and I will share

Please out a copy of my original art in your post

This will run until June 1

I will pick my top 3 across all platforms

There will be prizes, I just have no clue what lol.

I will link a folder filled with references for you to use! From the armor, to color keys (whenever tumblr lets me paste the stupid link 😡

Have fun!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[blueskittlesart]

I've seen your previous posts on Hylia and Skyward sword, so I was wondering if you go further into that? and what zelink you might prefer, botw/totk or skyward sword

i assume this is about this comic bc it's the only sksw analysis post of mine that still consistently gets notes lol. the text in that comic is actually taken from my loz analysis document's sksw zelda section! there's a bit more analysis there if you're interested, but tldr i think that sksw zelda is one of the more interesting and more tragic characters in the series. she begins her life on skyloft as a human girl and lives a relatively normal, conflict-free life up until sksw. she's the headmaster's daughter, she's got a good close friend in link, she's well-liked by her peers and community, etc. etc. the zelda we see at the beginning of sksw is a girl who is very sheltered. she's seen very little of the world and has virtually no experience with conflict outside of petty arguments between her peers. but she's also notably self-aware about this. she talks to link about wondering what's beyond skyloft, about this feeling she has that there's something important to her waiting on the surface. she knows that she's missing SOMETHING by living her sheltered life in skyloft, but, well... she's happy there. she's got the perfect life. she's all too willing to ignore that pull she feels towards the surface if it means preserving her life on skyloft with link. she's mostly content to live that happy lie forever.

obviously, she is not allowed to have that happy lie. she gets thrown down to the surface and she is told who she really is. the goddess hylia reborn in human form. she begins to remember pieces of a life that isn't hers, pieces of the person hylia once was. she learns about demise, about the goddess sword, all of it. and she realizes that everything in this world was set up, by hylia, by HER, so that link would be the one to fight demise in the end.

think about that. her childhood best friend, the boy she'd always felt drawn to, the boy she LOVED. now she knows that her whole life was a setup for this conflict. how does she know that their friendship wasn't a lie, too? how can she be sure that the part of her that is hylia, the same part that drew her towards the surface, wasn't ALSO drawing her towards link, making sure that when the time came he'd care for her enough to follow her? zelda spends so much time in sksw running away from link, and i'm almost certain this is why. once she knows she is hylia, she can no longer be certain that she really loves link or that link really loves her. it's equally, or perhaps even MORE likely that that part of her which was working to set everything in motion had been manipulating link her whole life, molding him into the hero that hylia knew she would need to defeat demise. she tries to get link to leave her alone, to go back to skyloft without her, because she understands that if he follows her for long enough he will be hylia's hero whether he wants it or not. she believes that he's only following her because HYLIA has convinced him to, that her only purpose as ZELDA in this story is to lead him like a lamb to slaughter. she believes the only way to save him is to convince him that he doesn't really love her.

but the thing is he DOES love her. it wasn't ever hylia's manipulation that convinced him to follow her to the surface. it was always his own choice. he wanted to save zelda more than anything in the world; ZELDA, not hylia. he was never fighting for the goddess. he was never hylia's hero. it was always for zelda. god maybe i should replay skyward sword

[moonlightblueandicegrey]

Warnings: homophobic and transphobic parents

Okay, hear me out. I drew my flags okay?

I couldn't buy lgbt+ flags because my parents are homophobic and transphobic (i still live with them) so i decided to draw my flags. And i put them in my closet. Yes, inside my closet! Look at this:

(this isn't the best try and the colours aren't the best either but that's all i had for now)

And my mother opened my closet because... I don't even know why! And she saw the flags. (I told her that the first and the third flag are both bisexual flags because I don't want more drama in my life, neither i want to give more explanations. Sadly, i couldn't lie about the trans flag because she already knows how it looks). And after she saw the flags she was like:

"Take them off of the closet because i don't want anyone to see them!"

What a stupid way of saying "I don't want to see them" 🙄

Like, who's gonna open my damn closet except me?? (And you for some reason).

And then she said: "Your teacher might see them!"

Bro, wtf? Is my teacher going to open my closet or something? Why would she do that? To see my jackets and rate them out of 20?

Mother: "I don't want to see the flags!"

Finally, speaking the truth! Okay, i get that, you are homophobic. So, if you don't want to see my flags, then don't open my closet out of nowhere!!!

End of the story

*takes deep breath* yeah, that's it. Thank you very much for listening.

............................................................................

I didn't make this post just to share this specific event and just to calm down my nerves. It's not about the flags in my closet. It's much more than that.

Since i came out to my parents, everyday something is happening that just makes me angry or sad again. The day goes perfectly fine until "my mum opens my closet out of nowhere" and here we go again. More drama, more anxiety, more anger and more tears. Can't we have some peace?! It's not like I'm bothering you or something! So why do you always bring this up and bother me? Can't we let some days pass without trouble? Do we always have to say the same things over and over again? Do we always have to fight?

I mean, be patient! It's one fucking year! I'll have my own house the next year so just be patient until then! That's what i also do. I'm patient.

I'm in a state where I can't do anything about transitioning. I can't even buy a hoodie from the male section because they say "that's the male section, you are a girl" and stuff like that, even if it's just a single colour hoodie! (Let's be honest, the only difference is the sizes. Single colour simple-classic hoodies are always the same).

I don't say my opinion about transsexuality or bisexuality (or about anything LGBT+ related) because i already know their reaction. I don't express my thoughts or opinions, I don't ask my questions and i don't discuss my troubles. Although i want to do it!

I'm patient... But they aren't.

~

And i know it might be hard for them, i understand that. I'm willing to give them time to think about it and to search and to learn and to understand me better and to have as many calm discussions as they want. The problem is that they are wasting this time. They do none of those things. They just complain. Can't they just be patient for another year? It's not much if you think about it.

~

Anyway, if i say everything that I want to say now about me and my parents and my experience, this post is never going to end.

So let's get in the important part:

I wish you all good luck with the "come out to parents" thing. I wish you to have lots of patience (you might need it). I wish you to be happy and healthy, always. Be strong. And... Yeah... It might go well but if it doesn't just remember that you are not alone. Be positive and know that better things are about to come in the future... So... I might be terrible with words, but i just wanted to say that you are not alone even if you think that you are, you are not. You'll find your way I promise. Good luck.

Take care of yourself okay?

[youngroyals-hc]

The boys are at Simon's house, lying in bed after some particularly enthusiastic sex. Simon knows they've dirtied the sheets and he'll need to wash them but he can't bear the thought of moving just yet. Not when Wille is clinging on to him so tight, drawing patterns on his chest and blinking sleepily as he follows his fingers. Eventually, he finds the energy to check the time. His mum will be home on a couple of hours, so if they put the sheets on to wash they should have time to put them in the dryer and redo the bed without her noticing. He sighs softly and kisses Wille's forward who practically keens and snuggles impossibly further into Simon's shoulder.

"Baby, we need to wash the sheets now if we have any hope of getting them done before Mama comes home."

"But Simme, I am so comfortableeee"

"I know, so am I mi amor, but do you really want Linda asking why we are washing the sheets when I haven't been sleeping in this bed the past week?"

"... Okay, you present a very convincing argument."

"How about I go make us some hot chocolate while you put on the sheets as a reward for being so responsible?"

Wille perks up at that and starts searching through the bedding for some underwear, grabbing the first pair he finds and chucking them at Simon (Wille had been wearing them earlier but they were originally Simon's, and he knew he should be weirded out by their habit of sharing underwear but he couldn't help but love it and the domesticity it implied).

They dress and Simon goes to the kitchen, leaving Wille in the laundry with the sheets and humming to himself as he prepares the drinks. He walks back into the laundry five minutes later, only to find Wille cautiously inspecting all the buttons on the machine. He had placed the sheets carefully into the basket and was now desperately trying to work out where to put the washing powder. Simon places the drinks on the bench before stepping to Wille's side and brushing his hand of the small of the Prince's back. He feels bad having left him; he had momentarily forgotten who his boyfriend was and the fact that he'd probably never had to use a washing machine before.

Wille says in a small voice "you must think I'm so pathetic. I don't even know to put bedsheets in a fucking washing machine."

Simon turns to him, and Wille's eyes are downcast so he gently reaches out and holds Wille's chin, turning his head until their eyes met. He strokes over his jaw as he speaks. "Mi amor, why on earth would you know how to use a washing machine? You have never had to use one. Yes, it's a little unusual for most people of our age, but it's not like you've had the most typical upbringing. I promise to never get upset about this kind of stuff Wille. You didn't choose this life or your upbringing. All you can do is ask questions and learn now, and that is enough for me. What do you think?

Wille closes the gap between them, kissing Simon firmly, cupping his hand around his neck.

"Every day, I feel so, so lucky that someone as incredible as you chose to love me." Wille stays close as he says this, staring into Simon's eyes with his intense eyes, the look that could pin you against a wall it is so strong and focused.

"I'm just treating you how you treat me Wille. You never chastise me about not knowing what fork to use or not knowing how to engage in small talk with the princess of Thailand." And Wille grins at the memory of walking up to Simon and the princess only to find he'd just asked her what she thought of the new Zelda game.

"Okay. Thank you Simme."

"Always, Wille. Now, watch closely."

And Simon goes over all the steps, showing Wille exactly what buttons to press and why, and where they keep the washing powder and how much to put in, and Wille listens with the same focus as if he was being briefed about a national emergency. When the machine sings it's little song, they jump off the bed where they have been playing a computer game and Simon shows him how to set the tumble dryer and explains how long different items generally needed.

Later that night they are chatting with Linda at the dinner table when she asks if either of them have dirty laundry as she's about to do a load and Wille quickly says "Oh, we'll do it!" And Linda tried to protest but Wille just tells her he wants to learn how to help out and she can't argue with the precious boy sitting in front of her, so earnest to be liked and accepted. So she lets them do it, Wille practically bouncing as he picks up the basket full of the family's clothes and Simon follows behind him, throwing a smile back at his mum as they leave.

(Wille remembers everything that Simon says, and asks how he should sort the clothes and does he use the delicate setting for this load or is a warm wash okay? And Simon smiles more than is appropriate for laundry.)

[allaganexarch]

i know you're probably not into maleficent/aurora anymore, but since you were like THE malora writer, i'm curious in what do you think would happen to maleficent when aurora dies? either from natural causes like old age or somethiing terrible happened

My friend, this is so kind of you to say!! This is also, unfortunately, MY JAM LOL

So in my personal interpretation, I think once Aurora became more sure of herself and the relationship, she would learn (passively, not even really thinking of it as such) to de-fuse Maleficent a lot of the time. Maleficent is naturally temperamental and always about 3 bad steps away from starting a fight. Once Aurora learns that this is just sort of how she is and she isn't actually mad, and doesn't even usually mean anything by it, Aurora learns to just kind of skillfully sidestep like 99% of Maleficent's bad moods. As a result, because she isn't being fought at every turn, Maleficent (also without realizing it) calms down a LOT, and tends to stop seeing everything as a challenge or threat, even from ppl who are not Aurora. This mostly just freaks ppl out, because you know she always seems super calm until she is suddenly Not LOL, and the average person does not know how to tell Maleficent's "actually calm" from her "quietly seething."

Additionally, while I believe that Maleficent operates on her own code of ethics and doesn't just do whatever, I also think her ethics and what she considers "wrong" differ significantly from where the average human would draw the line. As she grows more comfortable in her relationship with Aurora, I think she would be surprisingly willing to draw lines where Aurora wants her to, at least most of the time, because in her mind, e.g. not harassing someone who mildly annoyed her is important to Aurora, while it's not that important to Maleficent.

However, I think both of these changes, no matter how long Aurora lives, are utterly temporary. Once Aurora is gone, Maleficent will go back to the way she was before, if not ultimately worse, because in a sense kindness will remind her of Aurora, and I don't think she will ever reach a place where that is a good thing for her.

I think Maleficent's first reaction would be a kind of desperate fury, sort of like a wounded wild animal but with very powerful magic. She would be absolutely terrorizing the countryside, especially anyone she perceived to be responsible. It's almost worse if Aurora dies of old age, because then the fault in her mind would lie with...everything, the nature of life itself. This phase could last forever, depending on other factors, and I think it would be a very long time before Maleficent is even slightly functional again.

Even in eg. Prisoner-verse where Maleficent has other friends, I can see her getting into terrible fights with almost all of them. Girl can be next-level vicious when she wants to be, and even if her friends have known grief, most of them don't know exactly what she's going through, and therefore from Maleficent's perspective are not in a position to comment. Also I think "Aurora wouldn't want you to live like this" or similar would be like, the worst possible thing you could say to her, and might send her spiraling into a murderous rage all over again, because how DARE you presume to tell her what Aurora would want?

I am really a sucker for these kinds of villain backstories LOL, you can play me the same tune over and over and I will never get tired of it. I think the only kind of person who could reach Maleficent would be someone who's sort of similar to Aurora, at least in unfailing kindness. I'm imagining someone just trying to save her village or w/e from being razed to the ground showing sympathy to Maleficent for her lost love, and Maleficent showing just the smallest amount of mercy in memory of Aurora, even if ultimately she hasn't changed or healed at all. (oh my godddddd don't look at me I want to write this now lol)

So anyway, it was 5:30 in the morning, a very normal time to be awake, and I was thinking, well, would anyone in Prisoner-verse be able to calm her down at all? I think she and Kinsale would absolutely get into a really bad fight, and Zenovia would try to be chill about it but she would also pretty quickly be like okay well talk to me when you've calmed down lol. And then I realized............

--

“Hey.”

Maleficent doesn’t move.  She doesn’t know how long she’s been sitting here.  Odd, that she doesn’t feel a fresh wave of fury at Joy’s presence.  Then again, perhaps she is simply too tired to feel much of anything.

“I’m not going to say anything.”  Joy holds out her hands in a show of defense.

Maleficent inhales, sighs.  Her throat is burning.  She only distantly remembers the sound of screaming, and realizes now that the memory was of her own voice.

“Good,” says Maleficent.  Joy of all people should know that there is nothing to say.

A long silence follows.  Joy joins her on the floor some distance away, and pretends to train her gaze upon the fire.

“I do have one question, actually,” says Maleficent.

“Hm?”

Maleficent closes her eyes.  She tries to imagine Joy the way she looked in pictures, with long, beautiful hair that she wore in intricate curls, and a radiant smile full of youthful mischief.  “How did you…not…”

But words fail her.  She holds out her hand, grasping at nothing.

“What,” says Joy, “burn down the world?”

Maleficent sighs again.  It is as apt a question as any.

“Well, it was perhaps to my benefit that I am not nearly so powerful as you, Mistress Maleficent,” says Joy, although her characteristic attempt at wryness comes out remarkably strained.  “I wouldn’t have gotten very far.”

Maleficent opens her eyes.  The flames of the fire flicker and dance, enticing in their destruction.  “I’m not sure I would have cared.”

Joy chuckles, dry and mirthless.  “Yes, well,” she says.  She does not continue.

Outside, a terrible wind howls, desperate and mournful.  The windows rattle and the fire flickers low, casting them both in dramatic shadow.

Maleficent inhales.  She closes her eyes again.  “Does it ever…?” 

The words catch in her throat.  She already knows the answer.

“No,” says Joy quietly.  A long silence follows.  The embers from the fire crackle meekly, and the mournful wind falls deadly silent.

“But…I don’t know.  You find…other reasons.  To, you know…”  She waves her hand vaguely at the fire, and stokes it back to life.

Maleficent shakes her head.  Reasons?  The word feels foreign, meaningless.  “I don’t know that I ever had a reason for anything, before…”

Before her, she means to say, but she cannot.  There was always a before her, yes, but now there is an after her.  Everything from now on is after her, without her, and the mere idea of it is something akin to drowning, or perhaps slowly suffocating, deep underground, with the weight of the earth sinking down upon her chest.  What did she do before?  How did she live?  However is she to live now, knowing what she has lost?

“Yeah,” says Joy simply.

Maleficent doesn’t know how long they sit together in silence after that.  It hardly matters.

--

ANYWAY THANK YOU ANONYMOUS FRIEND I HAD FUN LOL

[sunnpii]

HI GUYS‼️‼️ minecraft ddlc au won the poll sooo yuri in minecraft ddlc au!!1!1!

i dont like this drawing veyr much but it gets her design down anyway SHES AN ENDERMAN!!!! cuz. duh. theyre tall shy and purple

lore under here☟☟

first general enderman lore!! sorry if any of this conflicts with canon minecraft lore, if there IS any actual minecraft lore i do Not know of it

1. endermen are highly intelligent creatures, but not much is known much about them at all by other mobs because theyre mostly solitary and almost never talk (even though they can). theyre barely even social with their own kind, much less other mobs. it certainly isnt helped by the fact that they feel threatened when theyre looked in the eyes, and will almost always accept it as a challenge to fight even when the person who looked them in the eyes had no ill intent.

2. endermen are the only mobs that have a language specific to their species, as all the other languages (humanoid, monster and piggish) are spoken by multiple species of mobs (humanoid with villagers pillagers illagers and witches, monster with overworld monsters like zombies and skeletons and such, and piggish by certain nether mobs but mainly piglins and zombified piglins and stuff). endermen can learn other languages too, but due to their widely solitary nature they usually dont because they simply dont have a need to talk to other mobs.

3. endermen can pick up any block in this au for pretty much no reason other than i think they cant pick up chests normally and i wanted yuri to carry a chest around

4. they can have hair on their heads and tails and its purple and sparkly and stuff‼️‼️yaay

5. their ender pearls are liek inside their bodies basically in the same place their heart would be, and the ender pearls are their source of magic and its how they can teleport yayy!!!! the magic is why they have particles floating off of them and stuff

now YURI!!!!!!!

1. yuri is an ADVENTURER!!!!! woah!!!!!! that may seem off brand for her but she loves exploring and learning about all this world has to offer, especially in the pursuit of knowledge about the enchanted books (see 4)

2. she is one of the few endermen that have learned other languages (she knows enderman, humanoid and monster)!!! she mostly did it because she just loves learning stuff in general but it turned out to come in handy a lot!!

3. she doesnt attack. like ever. she just gets too nervous. if u look her in the eye she just runs away. she runs away from most threats shes never actually killed another mob before

4. her main goal is collecting and attempting to decode enchanted books!!! most mobs dont care because they still know what the books do even if they dont know what they actually SAY, but yuri is super curious about them. her chest is filled with the books shes collected so far!!

5. she has a TOTEM OF UNDYING!!!! holy shat!!!!!! the story of how she got it isnt too crazy there was just a huge fight at a woodland mansion one day and a totem of undying was dropped and she just. snatched it. and now it holds her little cape together!!! shes actually not sure what it does yet so her side objective is to find out what the deal is with it, she just snatched it cuz she thought it was cool

6. though still VERY shy, she is a lot more social compared to other endermen, as she tends to encounter a lot of different mobs on her travels that she ends up needing to talk to (especially villagers to see if they have any enchanted books theyre willing to trade). still, she is having a Very hard time perfecting the art of social interaction,,

umm yah thats it for now!!! ill ptobably talk about all the characters Together when all their Seperate posts are done and stuf

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

what would the dark revival characters reactions be to the reader turning into an ink demon variant (characters include: Henry, Sammy, bendy, ink demon, twisted!Alice, Allison, Betty and Wilson). -🌕

Henry

It would crush him to see yet another friend turn into a terrifying inky toon creature. Just another victim of the Cycle’s machinations.

It's nearly as devastating as the first time he saw Brute Boris, but thankfully you’re kinda the same personality-wise.

However, you got irrationally angry at Henry at first, as him leaving the company caused Joey to create this whole world to begin with and drag you into it.

But you soon remember that none of this is truly his fault. He couldn’t have known; he didn’t want any of this to happen.

So in time, you get along with him again, feeling bad when the Ink Demon he used to adore keeps trying to kill him constantly.

You aren’t Bendy, but you stick around him, helping him survive the studio’s many horrors.

You also admire the sketches he still draws of that little devil darling to this very day.

Sammy

He doesn’t even recognize you as his coworker anymore, only ever addressing you as “My Lord” or “My Inky Savior”.

You tell him you hate being compared to Bendy, but he doesn’t even seem to hear you, instead saying the same shit about how you'll "set him free".

Hell, you don't know how to even set yourself free-

He leaves you gifts and Bendy cutouts around places you frequent, and singing praises, willing to do anything for you.

In many cycles, he was rejected/betrayed when offering Henry up to the real Ink Demon, unable to appease him not matter what he did...and that drove him even madder.

But you just talking to him convinces this poor, desperate soul that you're the real deal, as you've finally “noticed" him.

When he asks when he'll be free, you simply say "soon enough", and that seems satisfactory, as he claims he'll wait forever if that's what it takes.

TLDR: You have this fanatical musician wrapped around your finger and you have mixed feelings about it.

Bendy/Benders

Understandably, he's surprised and anxious when first meeting you considering how uncanny your resemblance to his demonic-self is.

It’s sad considering you’re one of the employees he liked the most. One of the few who didn’t mistreat him. 

Now you were stuck in this Cycle as another clone of him.

But seeing that you had some humanity left, he learns to trust you, exploring the studio with you and protecting each other from the Keepers.

Definitely shares his train and other toys with you, hoping they’ll make you happy as much as they did him.

Being a little devil, he's quite mischievous, as are you, so pranks are common. But they’re only geared towards the Butcher Gang and Lost Ones who are rude to you (they fear any Bendy variant so you both use this to your advantage).

Ink Demon

It started as an unwitting rivalry, which basically meant you had to run like hell if you saw him.

He touts about being the “real” Ink Demon and thinks you’re trying to compete with him for a long while...until he senses that you’re always afraid of him, never challenging him, and only then he understands you don’t want any trouble. 

Like him, you were turned into something awful..something flawed (yep he’ll be projecting for days).

He has sympathy for you, but he’s far from your friend. So don’t get too comfortable around him

Like with Audrey, he proposes merging together in order to become one powerful Ink Demon that everyone will fear..and in turn it’ll give you the strength to stand up to your enemies.

Unfortunately for him, it’s become a habit for you to turn down the offer each time he brings it up (much to his ire).

Twisted Alice

Her hatred of the Ink Demon goes for all variants of him..including you.

You try explaining that you’re not him and would never try to “taint” her attempts at perfection.

She doesn’t trust you and has chased you with an axe/tommy gun multiple times.

Though she stops when she overhears you singing “I’m Alice Angel” one day...learning actually likes your voice. It’s sounds pure, untainted by the ink.

Perhaps you’re not him, after all, she finally decides, approaching you calmly.

“Your vocal cords sound heavenly. I’d love to tear them out some day and use them as my own” is the nicest compliment you’ll ever get from her. Better treasure it.

Allison

Tom was adamant about trusting you, considering his own run-ins with the Ink Demon in previous Cycles.

While Allison wanted to believe you were good..the pair were worried you had some “link” with the demon (ie he might know where you are at all times, and vice versa, which is risky if you’re in a hideout with them).

So they’ll be on the move constantly, trying to avoid you (which is Tom’s idea more than Allison’s).

When your disprove their theories, however, you’re welcomed to join them or stop by one of their hideouts for food and shelter.

You ask Allison why she let you stick around despite looking like their enemy, she simply says that “anyone with even an ounce of humanity left in them is worth helping”, which makes you smile.

Eventually you’ll be trusted with a weapon and go on adventures with the pair, trying to find new ways out of the Cycle.

Betty

Being Wilson’s maid, she’s distrusting of anyone resembling the Ink Demon.

If you didn’t have his permission to stay within the manor, she wouldn’t want anything to do with you.

Assuming he did allow it (in exchange for hearing his ideas for experiments and giving him info on the Ink Demon), Betty only attends to your needs out of obedience, not because she necessarily wants to.

She’ll frequently remind you of this in the form of subtle passive-aggressiveness.

If you’re insecure about looking like the Ink Demon, however, she’ll grow a bit more sympathetic to your woes, offering you a wardrobe to better disguise yourself.

Wilson

Unless you were a previous acquaintance of Wilson’s, it’s very unlikely he’ll let you roam around as another Ink Demon clone freely.

If anything you’ll probably be imprisoned with the other “Cyclebreakers” with the Keepers keeping tabs on you.

Is 100% convinced you know the Ink Demon’s weakness and will bother you about this day and night.

Much like Bendy, though, you’re not so easily contained and you break out frequently.

To get back at him, you harass the Keepers constantly (and deface all posters of Wilson by doodling eyebrows, mustaches, etc. over them)

[merakiui]

Your first baby with Riddle is a girl who looks just like him, and, to your horror, she's a total daddy's girl. No matter how you try to keep him away from her and yourself, she loves her daddy, she looks at him like he hung the stars, she wants to be "just like him" when she grows up... When mid-afternoon rolls around, you hear her feet pitter-pattering, accompanied by an excited fit of giggles; Riddle is home early, and your baby is willing tossing herself into the arms of the man that is holding you against your will.

Your second baby is a boy. He looks just like you, save for Riddle's eyes (and eventual short stature lol.) Riddle loves his son just as much, and relishes in the fact that when he looks at his son, he can see you. Although, sometimes he wonders if this boy was sent from the depths of hell to make his life miserable...

Your son is a total mama's boy, and by the Seven, does he hate Riddle. He gets so, *so* angry anytime he catches Riddle touching you and will throw the biggest fit known to man, demanding that Riddle leave his mommy alone. He destroys anything belonging to Riddle that he can get his hands on; he breaks his mug, chews his documents, anything to see Riddle flustered and barely holding in his frustration, anything to see his father's eerily patient demeanour falter.

Afternoons are loud because while your daughter is laughing her little heart out in Riddle's arms, your son is punching at his knees, screaming for him to "put my big sister down! Don't touch her!"

When all of the noise dies down, Riddle wrangles both kids under his arms (one still kicking) and goes over to where you're standing in the corner. He kisses your forehead before softly saying, "You know you should be staying off your feet, my rose. Sit down and relax. I'll make you something to eat that will be good for the baby." That's right, you're pregnant again.

Omg the third pregnancy…… orz he’s so terrible. So scummy. >:( it’s been so many years since you’ve known freedom and you’re pregnant yet again, so by this point you’ve lost hope of escape. You have children to take care of now; you couldn’t leave them behind. Not even your daughter even if it does hurt to see her revere her father as if he’s the most special person in her world. She refuses to believe her father could do any bad, and so she grows up thinking her mother is just always gloomy and sad, blissfully ignorant to the fact that you’re being held captive.

You sit quietly most days, reading to or drawing with your son just to give yourself something to do—something to take your mind away from the present predicament, if only for a few minutes, and enjoy peaceful activities with your precious son. Riddle loves to see you doing these things with the children. It’s so soft and domestic. He’s so happy he has the life he’s always wanted, and with a third baby on the way things only seem so much more perfect.

Although with a busy house, it makes finding alone time with you quite the challenge. Your son is always guarding the bedroom, insisting that Riddle’s not allowed to come in—that only his sister and Mama are allowed in. And most nights his daughter wants to sleep with him, complaining that her little brother is being too clingy with Mama and that she can’t get any cuddle time in with you. :( Riddle, in spite of his upbringing, is a surprisingly good father. He’s awkward for the first baby, as most parents often are, but by the second he’s learned all manner of tricks and tips that make both his life and yours easier. He has so much love to give because it’s all of the love he never received when he was a child, so naturally he’s going to let you and the children know just how deeply he cares for you.

You may not think the same and that’s okay. He can change your mind. Sometimes you give in to his affections, letting him hold your hand or embrace you from behind when you’re cooking. Sometimes he gets away with a kiss on the cheek. Sometimes, though it’s very rare, the two of you kiss in the bath when he insists on bathing with you, and you let his hands wander. You’re complacent most days, all of the fight stamped out of you over the years. If the kids are sleeping in their bedroom and there aren’t any interruptions or nightmares that leave them crying and clinging, Riddle makes love to you. It’s soft and sweet; he loves these nights the most because they’re so comforting, but mostly because you might even return some of his affections. He whispers the sweetest things to you as well, and you know they’re all true. Of course he loves you. Of course he thinks you’re pretty. Of course he can’t wait for the third baby. Of course he’s excited to help you through another pregnancy.

He’s so happy with his life; it’s the first time he’s ever felt so fulfilled. And for the price of your sanity, happiness, and freedom, he’s able to continue living a dream (though for you it’s more of a nightmare).

[askatriangleandastar]

What're your thoughts on the new Spooky Month episode?

(Doodle to match your icon, also because this one has me by the NECK) Thoughts in particular for as much as I can below

OOOOOOOOUGGHH DETER AND HIS MOM. FUCK, THE H U G S BIT HURTS MY HEART EVERY TIME IT IS VISCERALLY EFFECTIVE PELO YOU MONSTER ❤️

Moloch is so threatening I GASPED as we finally got to see him achieve Leg Rights and dud he ever put them to WORK running like that all over town!!

Gregor was incredible and competent and despite being opposing to the norm of how the kids go about things, a net positive for the town. His entrapment/death/conversion to what the cult put him through in the ending is an endangerment to the safety of everyone. That he really did care and want to protect the kids was sweet, and while harsh his reality check to Lila was something she's had coming.

I WAS RIGHT ABOUT SO MANY THINGS GOING INTO THIS I WAS SO EXCITED!!!!! Not beating the witch allegations in the slightest and still with so many questions and wonder.

I love how much we learn and yet how much there is to learn. Connections that are only half-given and have to be speculated and discovered with the ARG and background inferences. I still need to go over the frames and take in all the background characters. I don't know how far into November this is set but it's not long enough for Lila.

Getting the feeling that the Theives Duo were hired to go through the house yet settle on the attic, to nab THE DAD'S STUFF given its all strewn about the house after they get whooped, and then the New Grounds Ending confirms it had me shaking. Had me wondering if that's what BOB was sent to do initially in the very first epsiode, but when Lila ran into him he was gonna get a snack. That the cult members backed off at mentioning the spider and the Candy Dealer notes them as having been lucky + the picture revealled of it having been the Dad's (plus Pelo mentioning it has eaten people before) is making thoughts mimic a windows 98 trying to run the Sims.

The Gregor and Moloch ship those working on the show go for and snuck reference to in the show. The "and they've never been married but they are SO divorced" vibes of their interaction here, how Moloch called him by name and would have only ever lied in the past due to Gregor not having Moloch's in kind [the devil a deciever to any word said] hooooo I don't go there but it's next door and it looks fun!

The foreshadowing with the drawings done with Dexter and it's accuracy + Pelo drawing Moloch possessing a lot of characters + also doing so with Eyes + the Other Drawing = F E A R AND EXCITEMENT!!!!!!!

THE EYES IN THE BUCKET STILL LOOK LIKE DEXTER'S AND ARE ACTIVELY MOVING (especially in the Ending Spider Scene) HE IS STILL THERE AND TRAPPED AND AAAAAAAAAA!AAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!

The Ooga Booga Jumpscare was fascinating and done super duper well!!!! Wanna make a whole breakdown about why and how it worked better than any other so far. There are some layers and misdirection and it's built up really well! Plus what looks like a version of her on Jaune's TV foreshadowing what's gonna happen like it did before with Bob.

It makes me wonder if there's more parallels to Moloch based in the line "I can be ANYWHERE now!" After scaring the Audience. I have a theory that a part of his possession tactic is Fear. To enter someone's body who isn't willing they need to fear him and he can only get one such victim at a time (hence why only Roy and not the whole Hatzgang at once vs Skid and Pump at the same time with no difficulty as they let him in). It's why he Stalks and Stares (Patty, Ignacio) and consistently when we get to be around for when he goes for it, he *roars*. Not bite and claw but roars. He's put off and doesn't enter those that have no fear of him (Gregor, Rick, Ignacio) and I think it's because he CAN'T. It's why even when at his weakest he roared at Gregor. To break the chant, the concentration, to make the wounded and bleeding enemy falter and fear and let him in with that response of weakness. It fails, of course, but hoooo with anyone less devoted I don't think it would have.

BRICK TO THE HEAD. THE COWARDS. THEY GOTTA AMBUSH THIS OLD GUY EVEN WHEN HE'S ALREADY LIMPING TO STAND A CHANCE THATS HILARIOUS.

The way Pump was distracted from opening up and being vulnerable with his sister and kept happy by the toy and the lie, while Skid has no such escape as his own heart to heart is burdened further by the sobs of his mom in a home that is no longer in any illusion safe with a shattered door and evidence of earlier break-in everywhere. These 2 have been diverging in small ways in their outlook on things for awhile now, but this episode's ending and scenes about parents, about knowing more and less than each other (The way Skid didn't know about Moloch not running but Pump did and how Skid started to ask what he meant, how Skid still associates all Happy Fellas as Stabby while Pump could see it was Dexter-specific because he could **see** through to what Dexter WAS according to the notes... if Gregor hadn't interrupted there may have been Words. Going forward, it feels like they're going to again.)

IGNACIO AND THE ILLEGAL GUN OF COMEDIC CONTRAST

I cannot stress enough how much Kevin feels like he's being pushed further and further towards a total breakdown and that he NEEDS a coworker to help like Radford [AAAAAAAAAAA THEATRE MAN RETURNS I WAS SO EXCITED TO SEE HIM HE PLAYS OFF KEVIN SO SO WELL AAAAA] It's not an if so much as a When with the way his vision is Scribblifying so much (a treat for the eyes tho) and while he CAN cool off if nothing goes immediately wrong its just gonna keep going wrong.

Roy is having problems and given his parents and vibe of his family plus his contact to Skid and Pump, guessing it's likely tied to how it's status quo isn't sitting well and the need for escape with friends. Parents who are present yet Not in how it matters and how they're needed by the child. So glad he's willing to open up at all (the contrast from the second episode is staggering) but like Kevin it feels like he's building up to a bigger breakdown.

It is for Susie's safety and well being that she never met Moloch and yet she might well have been a huge fan given her enjoyment of demons! Have to wonder how she'd react to seeing the ashen form of Moloch in the attic if she ever went digging for what's been going on herself.

Ignacio may be any number of things and the picture with the dad is making me run in circles around the room I am seething with th3 need to shake him even though he'd shoot me point blank. Speaking of, the fact that he was carrying it on his person with taking out the trash and how he used it genuinely made me think that if Skid and Pump bothered him one more time he was going to pop 'em where they stood the same way he was so unbothered and at the ready I was wheezing XD

Why does the portrait have a diamond why does it have only ONE diamond why is it like that despite looking like it's the one for the old mansion we glimpsed in the second epsiode what the hell is with the mannequin and SHY DOES IT HAVE A FACE IN THE HELL CREDITS CARD

The oath Gregor uses portraying a Lord yet not a Father yet maintaining The Son, as well as a Sacred Sky, has me going no-clip on my chair. I am Not Normal about this and I cannot pretend to be I need the implications of this world's religions being impacted with Eyes having been ever-present STAT and the horror of the cult not being to a different God but the same as Gregor's, simply met by a bridge of heresy to meet mortals with the divine while still of flesh and bone and claim of Death....

I thought Evermore was bribing the hobos to blow up the church but now... now it feels more likely to be either Bob's place (seeing his corpse wheeled in the soundtrack video + that Patty was about to cut into him again when the kids interrupted+ Evermore asking for a specific body to be moved) OR the Mansion (not being invited into any cult and wanting John to shut up about it so he gets an unofficial, literal backalley deal going for some nobodies with no credibility to do the work for him). Evermore is the kind of vain who'd spill that he was in an exclusive group to brag and is also wonderfully insufferable with his blatant ego; the idea that he ISN'T part of the cult and his not knowing and terrible mayor strats only benifit the cult so they don't bother with the risk of somone in power knowing about them and his denial that somone as important as him would EVER be excluded if there WAS one which must mean there ISN'T just has such a good punchline and I hope it's true I really do.

THEY SHARE A VA, IS THE MASCOT GUY THE SAME CHARACTER AS THE BOB COSPLAYER CAUSE HIS BAD LUCK AND MISFORTUNE FEEL SIMILAR! Also the happy fella furthest left moves its eyes after the kids so uh. So uh they might've been on the money to destroy them cause looks like one is already possessed by Something and it also gives greater legitimacy to the internment of the one in The Candy Tube of Shame at Kevin's workplace gosh they're STILL BEING SOLD if they become A Problem beyond Dexter and that's when we get to meet Robert's little sister who has one....

The way Pelo has explained how Moloch got stuck and how the possession works means we KNOW Patty was tethered to her body and unable to do anything except watch as Moloch used her to kill (any by the mess and lack of remains) eat Michelle (mom's name in description cast list) to regain some power and begin to sate the prolonged hunger Moloch has been trapped in. It's how he was able to perfectly mimic her and Dexter. It's why her lower half is coated with so much blood it may as well be dyed the color. It's no wonder she's adamant to have a gun! Glad to see evidence of her still actively working with John and Jack on the mystery in the ARG images too.

That doctor, Mort, I don't know who he was talking with but while he's sus as hell I'm not so sure he was taking the call we see Ignacio make. There isn't a reason to be informing him about the priest, even if bother WERE in the cult- going straight to the mourge and opening with asking if the body had been moved feels like it was a micromanage from Evermore to be sure that what he asked for is happening in a timely way. Have to wonder if he's going to take Patty's place now with having a distinct full name and reoccurance in the episode as he does for 3 scenes.

Gosh I love the soundtrack I've been looping the playlist for it while writing all this, again, not well, so so many thoughts. This isn't even all of them but it's past 1 am I have been typing for over an hour gonna pause it at the realization that something DID curse the Candy Corner for the holy water to have worked as well as the fact that the red head kid, Lucky was super cursed for what we now know as LEGIT HOLY WATER to have had such an effect on him. It wasn't boiled it was in that pot to get as many of the kids crowding as possible, as we see the bottles only effectively splash a single person. A friend mentioned Gregor may not even directly see Lucky given the behavior towards the child is abnormal and as we see here he IS normal towards children, even with costumes he sees as mockery of the lord, so ignoring him crumpled on the ground and the siezing on the doorstep are strange outliers. ALSO LEARING ABoUT GREGOR'S FULL NAME AND THE MEANING AND THE RELEVANCE OF THE ANGEL WINGS IN THE CREDITS AAAAAAAAAAAA!! So much thought and care went into this, I love this series so much, thank you for asking my thoughts on it! ^^))

[shannankle]

Shadow Meta Series Post #5: Anurak and Trin, Trauma and Power

I'd planned for the next piece in this series to be about the Asian horror boom and technology, but I ran out of time before part 2 aired and then took a break for end of the year festivities. So I'll be pushing that one back to talk about Anurak and Trin once again. This post is part of my ongoing Shadow meta series on technology, time, and horror. I touch in previous posts on both Anurak and Trin, and I'll be picking up, adjusting, and further developing some of those threads here.

We'll be looking at the relationship the show is drawing between trauma and power through Anurak and Trin, starting in 1976 and moving to 1998/9.

I want to start with Anurak. In my post on Anurak and technology, I put forth the theory that Anurak is a queer man who was traumatized (going on the one-armed man theory, which turned out to be true, congrats once again @wen-kexing-apologist), and that he now serves the system out of fear. I was kind of right. Just off in terms of the catalyst and how much him explicitly being queer would factor into that (okay I was a lot off on that).

So let's begin by looking at Anurak through the lens of trauma and power with the full story in mind. I don't want to waste too much time covering what Anurak went through, since it really stands for itself.

But I do want to begin in...

Anurak's office 1976 

During the violence of Red October, Anurak tries to protect the college students, but his ability to do so is undermined through technology when his desk is bugged. I don't know much about bugging technology, but given that it's used by the military, I have to imagine that it was cutting edge for the time. In my previous post on Anurak, I noted how he surrounds himself by technology from the 1970s or earlier (okay I said 1979 specifically, but I imagine the show runners just said pre-1980s and called it a day). It marks the way he has become stuck in the past, and with the bug, we can see how technology became a trauma point stopping him from moving forward.

Anurak's Office: 1999 to 1976

While the future Anurak (1998/9) is stuck in the past, he is also trying to suppress this past at the same time. This becomes apparent in a lot of ways, but is perhaps most striking to me in this scene in episode 12:

Anurak confronts Dan and Josh over the weed found in their room, and the scene eventually culminates with Dan setting Anurak on fire and discovering he's the one-armed man.

But what is particularly notable to me is that this is really the first time we see this part of Anurak's office, including the cabinets on the wall.

At the start of the scene we only see the cabinets' edges or they're blurred out of focus. But as Dan and Anurak begin to fight, they come into clear view.

This is the first time we see this angle of Anurak’s office. All of the shots prior are very careful to only show specific angles of the space. Shadow consistently hides this part of the room up until we get our official reveal that Anurak is the one-armed man.

A few episodes later we'll learn that this closet was the place where the last college student was shot and Anurak’s last hope of saving anyone died. 

The show literally hides his past trauma from us both narratively and visually. 

And for Anurak, it marks the way he is constantly running from the past but can never escape it. He tries to hide it from view, to avoid that part of the room, but he remains in his office nonetheless. Just as he remains at the school and surrounds himself with technology of the past.

Both past and present are touched with trauma. There is no escape.

From 1976 to 1998/9

We can see that in the past, Anurak was much more open to change and was genuinely coming from a desire to help the college students. He was willing to leverage his position at the school to try and protect the students from state power and violence up until this threatened his and his colleagues lives.

But by 1998 and 1999 he is clearly operating under and holding up the power system out of fear and trauma. And, unfortunately, what he hides comes with a cost to those around him.

He restricts what the students get to know about the past, particularly Red October. He's absolutely doing this out of trauma. On the one hand, he is trying to create a distance from himself and the event to prevent himself from being triggered and re-traumatized. On the other hand, he likely feels he is protecting the students by shielding them from the consequences of resisting the government.

It seems at this point that the government itself hasn't banned the information, since it's Anurak and one other instructor who are the main objectors at the school. However, his censorship would still prevent students from developing a political consciousness. Because if the students know the wrongs of the past, how could they not be moved to object? Anurak has seen the cost of that consciousness--not only did he witness the college students being murdered for it, but he has lived with the trauma (including survivor's guilt) himself.

He's reacting in a way he feels will protect himself and the students. However, in reacting this way, Anurak is also aiding the overall political project to hide this history and suppress political consciousness.  

1998

This places Anurak in direct opposition with Trin. In the flashback of Trin questioning Red October, Anurak tells Trin that he should be setting an example as student president.

In a previous post, I discussed Anurak scolding Trin for pushing his campaign promises. In that scene, Anurak emphasizes logic to shut Trin down. In this first encounter in episode 10, Anurak makes a point about Trin's behavior rather than his ideas. However, in both cases Anurak emphasizes the effect Trin has on the school as a community.

According to Anurak: Trin's not thinking about who will pay for or clean the bathroom. Trin's not considering how he is being a bad model for other students by distributing information about Red October.

By emphasizing his role as student president, Anurak also perhaps hopes to use the language of democracy to influence Trin. Trin is clearly still angry, but visibly resigns; leaning back in his chair, he backs off for now.

Their back and forth continues after Trin's love letter is circulated. Anurak responds to Trin's explanation by asking him: "Didn't I tell you you have to set a good example to your peers as student body president?" Again, Anurak uses Trin's role as president to play on Trin's sense of duty to community and constituents.

Of course, this comes with an added sting because he is also weaponizing Trin's expression of his feelings and queerness against him. Yes, Trin put Joe and the school in a tough spot by writing to a teacher, but Anurak doesn't specify here nor address the impact of the homophobia Trin is facing.

Trin pushes back on the idea that he has failed his community, stating that "It's just an expression of my feelings for a person." On one level, Trin pushes back on the homophobic framing by emphasizing that it is simply feelings for a "person." On another level, he is re-situating the conversation around his personal "feelings" rather than how the world feels about him. He is arguing for the private in a context where society deems his sexuality always a public matter.

In another post I discuss how Anurak feeds into a trend in the show of queerness and alterity always needing to be narrated. And here I discuss the way Trin continually loses his narrative agency to others.

These trends continue in this scene as Anurak punishes Trin for not respecting the narrative. Compared to earlier confrontations, here Trin is not just being punished for political opinions but for something that he can't fundamentally change. Of course, Anurak also has something he can't change in his left arm. He chooses to hide this difference along with his trauma, and he censures Trin for not doing the same. Ultimately telling Trin to "keep a low profile"

When Trin's appeal to privacy doesn't work, he threatens to resign as president. If the system can't be changed, if it doesn't have space for him to be himself without acting a part, then Trin will opt out.

Anurak comes at Trin with his usual moves--an appeal to logic and community. He calls Trin's proposal "utter nonsense" framing it not only as illogical but lacking in narrative weight, thus cutting off his options and narrative agency once again.

Anurak seals the deal by escalating his appeal to community. He tells Trin that "It would be absolute chaos" to hold another election, then digs the knife deeper when he forbids Trin from seeing Joe. All through this we see Trin's face go from resigned to heartbroken as he leans back in his chair (this time with no anger just defeat).

The system is hurting Trin, but Anurak, fearing that leaving the system will harm Trin, refuses to let him leave.

This dynamic plays out in horrific ways in Trin's unraveling and death/disappearance. During this period, Anurak reacts to any moves Trin makes by desperately hiding the truth, weaponizing Trin's mental illness against him, and eventually using physical force to stop Trin.

In the very space where the college students faced state violence 22 years ago, Anurak uses physical force that cuts Trin's head. This moment mirrors the scene in the art room in episode 8 where the bust falls and it's head is smashed. In a post about art in the first part of Shadow I mention how this can be read as the failure of logic. However, here it takes on another dimension, where the reason and logic Anurak uses to cover his trauma leads him to enact harm and violence.

In addition to Trin's injury, the bust has parallels with the statue that must ultimately fall to reveal the past. This statue is a saint that has been tainted by a history of violence and murder. It thus mirrors Anurak's own path from resisting power to enacting its violence. All of this rooted in a mire of trauma and a misguided attempt to help.

While Anurak tries to keep the past hidden, this past threatens Trin's life and causes his mental decline. We know that the spirits may not be malevolent but are communicating in the only way they can (perhaps another example of trauma leading to more trauma). He tries to opt out in multiple ways, by quitting his medication, by cutting his arm, by taking pot, by leaving the community and it's collective trauma behind. The pot is a reprieve, but it isn't a sustainable escape. He still has to go back to school and society. But there the haunting escalates until Trin can't take it anymore. He turns to the forest shaman and the shadow.

1999

As the show reaches it's climax, Anurak must finally reckon with the past. Dan has collapsed after the play, and at this point we see Anurak say something very familiar to the school board. He tells them he will "resign from [his] position."

I think this is Anurak's attempt to finally remove himself from authority, to stop clinging to the system for safety. Like Trin, if the system is doing harm, he'll leave it. Of course, it's too little too late; Dan dies at the end of the same episode. And we already know from Trin's fate: staying in the system harmed him, leaving it harmed him. If Anurak stays he perpetuates more trauma, but if he leaves he will experience trauma in another form. He tries to leave, but trauma won't let him. So he takes his own life, hoping that at least then he might stop the cycle and atone. And even this path forward is thwarted.

The Shadow

What happens when you're always seen as a threat to the community (for your political views, queerness, disability, trauma, etc) but without community you lose your sense of belonging and self? What happens when opting out of these systems of power leads to trauma but conforming to them results in its own traumas?

I'm still thinking a lot about @brifrischu's review of Shadow where he notes how the show places characters like Dan in an in-between state. I think the show gives us the answer to my questions above in the shadow. It's a horror that encapsulates the grotesque "neither-nor" dynamic of this kind of trauma. It speaks to the way such power structures don't just kill us but leave us as nothing and no-one trapped in a shadow's realm.

[jessequinones]

Writing Lesson: It’s okay to make mistakes.

I know as a writer I make mistakes, in fact, I’m certain if you go through this text you’ll find grammar and punctuation errors and that's ok. This text isn’t a book or a peer review essay. It’s a conversation from me to you about mistakes in writing.

When I was young, learning how to write, I created this.

***

2010, Wildcats: Civil War

“What are you saying?” A black tom said to a brown tom with anger in his voice.

Before he was finish Shadow walk away wan Deathclan was about to leave but what Whiteheart said next made Shadow froze in his tracks. “I know I can beat you.”

“Is that so?” Shadow said as he was turning around and was slowly walking back toward Whiteheart.

“That is correct.”

“Well then….let’s have a little battle right here and now then.”

Whiteheart could not say no, or back down now. He walks right it in this battle.

***

Yeah...it’s not good but the point is, even though I was a terrible writer, I never stole my writings. All of my terrible stories were original and that’s what I want to talk to you about today.

The word plagiarism has been going around the internet for the last few days and I noticed when people who plagiarised other’s works get caught they tend to say they don’t feel comfortable with their own writings and thought it was a good idea to steal. Assuming they’re genuine, let me say it’s okay if your writing isn’t good, that’s how we learn.

You write a bad sentence or a paragraph which doesn’t make sense, and someone will point it out. You’ll learn over time not to make the same mistakes and grow as a writer. Just copying from someone else won’t help you learn because you’re no longer making mistakes, you’re just copying.

I always hated the saying you gotta keep practising your craft to get better because there were a few times when I thought I couldn’t improve. I kept practicing but I kept making the same mistakes and didn’t know how to get better. For those types of situations, I find it best to ask someone whose more experience how to overcome your hurdle and let me be the first to say there are plenty of people in your craft who’ll be willing to help.

As for writing, here’s a trick I did to help me create stories. For practice, I took a book, like the Warrior series for an example, and copied their words. Before you say that’s plagiarism, first things first, I never published the stories I was copying, and secondly, I was figuring out how the Erin Hunters were creating their stories.

When artists learn how to draw for the first time, they copy someone else’s art style and maybe even do trace works until they become confident in their ability to create their own. I was still trying to learn what my writing style was, and I wanted to figure out how someone else created theirs. Over time I started to get an understanding of how sentence structure was made. I understood foreshadowing, and I understood when and where to add descriptions. I would start looking at lines in the books after I wrote them and be like...I could improve this. I started to see things I didn’t think were necessary for the story and after a while, I told myself I was ready to write my own Warriors fanfic.

Learning from someone else, being inspired by another. These are all things that’ll help you grow as a writer but you still got to do the work yourself. You can’t say you created something original if 90% of it was stolen, you’re only hurting yourself.

If you’re a new writer and have questions, even if you think they’re very basic, please feel free to ask me. I’m not the best writer. In fact, I don’t really know how to create informative writing, which is why I’m practising now, but I do know a few things and am always willing to help someone if I have the time and don’t forget. Keep trying and keep writing, your writing is better than you give it credit for.

[nerves-nebula]

Are you ever you ever insecure about your art? And could you explain you answer to that?

Venting to you now

Drawing has taken a lot of effort for me, more than usual recently. I started working on something I originally felt really passionate about. It's more common for me to very quickly give up or get bored so I was really excited to be able to post some artwork. But I ended up not liking the result and I'm not sure if I'm willing to try something else. I've given up on trying in a lot of parts of life to try and save energy to do something I thought I was passionate about (art) but I am still lacking the motivation. The reason I reason I really wanted to share it was because I'm terrible with self-motivation. If I can't make at least one person genuinely go 'oh, neat' even for just a second and even if they soon forgot later, I'd feel like I'd have a reason to keep living (to keep making art). If the only people who'd see it end up disappointed I'd want to disappear.

It's not what art should be. I know it's value is like a person's. It's worth more than how someone reacts to it, right? But I can't apply that rule to myself. I should seek support from the people who 'know' and actually care about me, but I don't want their appreciation. I want some imagery status of a 'good artist' because that's what seems to give me dopamine.

I also wanted to mention how much I admire how open you are with your struggles. I want to be the same but I'm scared of people thinking less of me. I know that's dumb but I don't know what I'm good for if I can't make people happy. If I'm not going to be content with myself I want to not be a nuisance at least. I like to think that if I stopped caring about my impression on people, I'd be better off. But I'm scared that I'd have to learn to like myself. I don't like myself and I have no interest in liking myself. I don't see the point.

oh boy, this is gonna be a long one. also, don't take anything i say too seriously, i don't know your situation and I'm barely an adult. anyway, response under the cut

soo lately I'm less insecure about my art and more frustrated when things don't come out well. but i still post that shit !!! I'm still insecure if i'm doing, say, a project for homework, and i don't think i did as well as I could have, but in my personal artistic endeavors it's more about getting it done than it being perfect (for example, my webcomic! my motto is any comic made is better than no comic made and if people don't like that then it wasn't for them in the first place)

the thing about me is that drawing and art and stories is all i've ever had. it's my main form of interacting with the world. these days i make art the same way I live, which is to say in spite of wanting to kill myself. I would LIKE if my art was perfect, and i would LIKE to not be in pain. but i AM in pain and i have to live anyway, and my art ISN'T perfect but i'll make it anyway.

and i like when other people's art isn't perfect either, when it isnt super polished. I think that definitely helped. seeing artists whose work i fell head over heels for when it's never been more than sketches and a bit of shading. it really cemented in my mind that it isn't art being technically perfect that makes it worth while.

i've gotten a lot of people saying kind things to me, saying how much they enjoy my art and my blog in general. and though it doesn't always help, it sometimes inspires me to imagine the number of people who appreciate my stuff who might never mention it to me. I myself am used to lurking and not interacting very much (a habit I'm trying to change since I know artists & creators love feedback most of the time) i know it sucks to not know if anyone gives a shit for sure, but you really can't make that your only reason for doing art, cuz half the time you prolly wont even know if your art deeply affects people or not. it's fine to want that attention but you gotta have something else goin on too, at least I do.

i also know the fear of worrying that you'll lock yourself into something you don't want to do, or something you'll lose passion for. for me, I generally rotate a cast of characters & interests around for years a time before making significant progress. There were spans of times where I'd go years without thinking about loose stitches, but none of that time developing other stories & characters was wasted. it gave loose stitches enough time to properly cook, and the story is still developing under my hands as i draw it, influenced by my other stories and other characters.

it's ok to abandon something and pick it up again years later, or to never pick it up again at all. it's ok to hate the way something turns out but to keep making it anyway because you have to move forward (at least, I do)

moving forward despite not liking the original product is the only way to progress, I think. I don't super like a lot of the first pages of loose stitches but I'm still grateful that past-me posted them because that means present me is at page 76 !!

If I can't make at least one person genuinely go 'oh, neat' even for just a second and even if they soon forgot later, I'd feel like I'd have a reason to keep living (to keep making art). If the only people who'd see it end up disappointed I'd want to disappear.

the problem with this mindset (in my opinion) is that some people aren't going to like your art and that's got nothing to do with the art itself. if you want to find people who go "oh, neat" then you have to keep posting until they see it. trust me, they're out there. like, i don't post for people who can't stand the idea of child abuse, i post to FIND people who want to interact with stories about child abuse the same way i do.

it would be insane to stop trying to find those people because someone else was disappointed or upset by my art. which isn't to say you gotta lock yourself into doing one thing, but that you gotta post what you care about, and people who also care will find it. posting fandom stuff with the same themes as your original art certainly doesn't hurt either, if you REALLY want to find those people faster.

It's not what art should be. I know it's value is like a person's. It's worth more than how someone reacts to it, right? But I can't apply that rule to myself. I should seek support from the people who 'know' and actually care about me, but I don't want their appreciation. I want some imagery status of a 'good artist' because that's what seems to give me dopamine.

art should be literally whatever. it's worth is literally whatever you want, it can be a big deal or not. i'm not sure what part of being a "good artist" gives your brain the Good Feelings juice but I'd investigate that feeling more and try to figure out the roots of it, cuz then you might actually be able to figure out what it is that motivates you. approval is nice, yes, but i like approval for things i enjoyed making even more.

I also wanted to mention how much I admire how open you are with your struggles. I want to be the same but I'm scared of people thinking less of me. I know that's dumb but I don't know what I'm good for if I can't make people happy. If I'm not going to be content with myself I want to not be a nuisance at least. I like to think that if I stopped caring about my impression on people, I'd be better off. But I'm scared that I'd have to learn to like myself. I don't like myself and I have no interest in liking myself. I don't see the point.

i always find it amusing when people refer to my "struggles" if only because I don't really consider them that way. to me it's just like, a thing that happened that sucks. i don't consider myself "struggling" with it, even though I guess that's what's happening. also, let's be real here, it's not like I'm using my real name. this is an anonymous tumblr blog. though, my openess on here has actually lead to me making more art about it IRL so. eh.

anyway, lucky for you, you can stop caring about what other people think without necessarily liking yourself! for me, it's about spite (sort of). I don't like myself much more than I used to, I just decided I hated everyone else more haha. I still care what people think about me, and I'm still scared of what people might do to me, but I'm also not bending over backwards to please people i dislike. I just get annoyed at them instead.

i did this basically just by repeating it until it became true, lol. there's only so many times you can petulantly say "well fuck those guys anyway they suck" before it becomes your true first reaction.

at some point, i decided i needed to pick and choose who i wanted to please, because it can't be everyone. that's just literally not possible. so i looked at the kinds of people i liked and appreciated, and basically disregarded everyone else. it's the whole "don't take criticism from someone you wouldn't take advice from" thing (not sure where that comes from)

obviously you should probably try to internalize the idea that you even HAVE to be "good for something" but that's way easier said than done. i find it more useful to devote yourself to finding a few things (causes, people, philosophies, niche interests) instead of just general usefulness. because then you can form stronger relationships, be useful, AND not burn yourself out trying to please everyone.

take all this advice with a grain of salt though, I definitely need therapy and this Bitter Angry Defensive persona will probably need to be deconstructed soon... idk. i think it's outlived its usefulness to me but i'm not sure what to do next hahah.

sorry if none of this was helpful or the point. im not even sure why i wrote this much, i kind of just ramble sometimes. i hope you figure it out!