#forgor to post yesterday so here it is!

[turtle-ly]

happens to the best of us

[cliopadra]

My TikTok fyp has been absolutely nothing but Squid Game for the last 2-3 weeks, so here’s a doodle dump from today yesterday , because I have, unfortunately, bonded with these idiots through constant exposure.

[thetomorrowshow]

febuwhump 12 - used as practice

title: burying my whole life

fandom: traffic smp

part of my bad boys gang au!!

cw: blood, violence

~

Scott swallows, shifts his weight.

He lets himself, for a moment, wonder about Martyn. Is he in the same situation? Blindfolded, tied to an uncomfortable chair? A dirty gag pulled taut between his teeth?

Or is it worse?

Then he shakes himself. He’s not thinking about that. He’s not going to sit here and run himself ragged, panicking about what they might be doing to his friend. He’s fine, so he has to assume that Martyn’s the same way.

This was supposed to be an easy job. They only take easy jobs, after all—one of the perks of being independent contractors is that they get to pick and choose whatever jobs they want to work. But hiding bodies hasn’t been enough to cover rent as of late, and they really can’t afford to lose the junkyard.

They’ve worked for every respectable gang in the city, so Scott would have thought that there would be a bit more respect on the Mean Gills Hunk o’ Junk services. His and Martyn’s matching t-shirt uniforms are practically a Red Cross symbol around here. They aren’t to be touched.

The job had sounded pretty easy. Implicate this new gang, the Neighbors, in a murder that belonged to the Clockers. Scott didn’t feel too bad about it, seeing as the Neighbors hadn’t been so kind as to utilize their services yet. They seemed like a pretty small start-up, and the Clockers were probably trying to squash them out of the game before they really got their feet under themselves.

Well, they have their feet under them, that’s for sure.

The Neighbors aren’t actually a gang, that much is clear. They’re some sort of—private elite force, Scott thinks, with training that he’s never seen from the usual thugs. He and Martyn can hold their own in hand-to-hand combat, but a single man in a button-up shirt had taken them both down with a couple of lightning-fast sweeps of his legs. It had been almost like an art form, a fluid dance that only he knew the steps to.

Scott had woken up . . . wherever this is. Alone. Unable to move his arms more than to flex his wrists, his legs bound in three different places, the only movement allowed him the ability to twist his head around. Nothing to look at, not with his eyes covered.

How long was he out? How long has he been here, in this unknowable prison, waiting for whatever judgment is sure to come?

In all likelihood, Scott’s dead. There are very few scenarios here where he ends up alive. They’ll probably interrogate him about his past work, the many bodies that he’s thrown into the incinerator or buried beneath all the junk. Then they’ll kill him, his knowledge of whatever they’re doing too threatening to their work.

Why did he ever have to get involved in this business in the first place? He’d always dreamed of living an average-length life.

What had seemed like an easy way to get a lot of cash has backfired in an unfortunately foreseeable manner.

Scott sits in silence for far too long. Hours, if he had to guess—which is unpleasant, frankly, waiting for his own death for so long with restricted blood circulation. If they were polite about it, his captors would have come in right after he’d woken, done their quick little interrogation, and shot him in the head.

When someone finally joins him, they don’t ask the demanded questions he expects. They don’t take off the blindfold or the gag, but they release him from his other binds (which he can now tell aren’t ropes, but something like mini bungee cords, easier to loosen quickly) and pull him to his feet and into a brisk walk, all without a word.

Scott stumbles along with them, a person on either side, his wrists clicked into handcuffs before he can so much as lift his hands. That’s frustrating, and not because it restricts his chances of escape, but because he’s already struggling with walking as pins and needles fill his legs and he’d like to be capable of catching himself if he falls, thank you very much.

Somehow he keeps his feet, though he hasn’t got any sort of presence of mind to pay attention to where they’re going, especially when he can’t see. Probably to some other room to be interrogated.

But they stop suddenly after what he assumes is a bit of a hallway, and they don’t have him sit down or remove the blindfold or anything. They just stand there, fingernails digging into Scott’s arms, and wait.

Scott lets out a slow huff of breath through his nose, flexes his fingers. Is this some sort of intimidation thing? What are they waiting for?

This is going to be it. He’ll be standing here for ages, then some big scary man will come in and tear off his blindfold and gag. He’ll demand to know his purpose and press him for every bit of information he knows, then he’ll nod to one of his goons and they’ll shoot him in the head and his body will be dragged away (probably to be buried in his own junkyard).

He knows so many things, though—what if he keeps giving information that the big scary man doesn’t even want? He’s so overflowing with things that he knows he doesn’t even know what he knows! Great, now he’s going to get a bad grade in hostage, something that is normal to—

Shuffling footsteps.

Scott swallows as best he can behind the gag. It sounds like multiple people, kind of far away. Maybe two more men with Martyn in between them?

“Here,” a lilting, woman’s voice says. She sounds far away—like she’s at the other end of a long room. “There’s your target.”

What?

A beat passes.

“What?” a man (from that same distance) says incredulously, echoing Scott’s thought.

“You’re a marksman, aren’t you? Show us your skills.”

Is Scott in a shooting range? Why would they bring him here?

“What did he do?” the man asks.

“Doesn’t matter, does it? He’s an enemy to us.”

“But—but he’s helpless.”

“What does that matter?”

Oh.

Oh, no.

Scott can see it, in his mind’s eye. Him, bound and gagged, a faceless perpetrator, stood at the end of the shooting range. This anonymous man, perhaps facing a test of loyalty, placed at the other end with a gun in hand.

There’s still men on either side of him. A test of accuracy, too.

They aren’t even going to interrogate him?

Scott feels kind of offended, honestly, that they’re using him as nothing more than a prop in someone else’s test. He has knowledge of worth! He has dirt on every gang in the city, and despite what he always claims, it can absolutely be tortured out of him.

Maybe Martyn already gave up everything useful. Maybe Martyn traded his life for Scott’s. Sounds like something he would do—there’s never really been love lost between the two of them; circumstance brought them together and convenience kept them together and now convenience dictates their separation.

To be fair, Scott would have sold him out, too.

Ah, well. He lived a decent life—for the first sixteen years, or so. He was kind of a terrible person after that. To be frank, he probably deserves to die.

As someone else’s loyalty test, though? Really?

His ideal death is absolutely to sacrifice himself to save someone else for reasons that he’s not going to personally examine, but this is just embarrassing.

“I won’t.”

If Scott didn’t have a gag in his mouth, he would have groaned. Is he seriously going to drag this out? He’s seen movies, he knows what’s going to happen.

Sure enough, there’s a long pause, then a meaty thud followed by a pained grunt. After a moment, the woman speaks again.

“Shoot him.”

When the man speaks, his voice is notably strained. “No.”

Another thud. Then another, and a bit of a crack, and the man makes another sound of pain. After a moment of relative silence, he hears a sliding sound, as if something heavy is being dragged along the floor.

A door opens, then shuts.

Scott still has a gag in his mouth, but he makes his best attempt at a groan anyways.

-

That pattern repeats itself four times.

Scott is pulled from his chair and into what he has to assume is a target range. The anonymous man being tested is brought in, he refuses to shoot Scott, he gets beaten into submission, and then both of them are dragged away again.

The sixth time, as Scott stands in the target range with guards on either side, he wishes they would loosen the gag. Then he could at least try to make this interesting. It sounds fun to beg for help. Or maybe he could try to anger the man. Or he could stay silent by choice. That would be enigmatic.

The man sounds exhausted today, and Scott briefly wonders what he’s been going through when they’re not in the room together. Do they hurt him? Interrogate him? Train him? At least with Scott they give him food and water at fairly regular intervals. The man seems to get weaker and weaker by the day.

“Really?” the man says, his voice carrying thinly across the room. “Again? Same guy? Don’t you get tired of this?”

“Don’t you?”

There’s a long silence that follows that.

Scott waits with bated breath.

Is this going to be it, at last?

Even though he’s been prepared five times now, his unpreparedness strikes him like a staff to his knees. Did he ever thank his neighbors for the housewarming cookies they brought him? How long has his cat been alone at home? Why didn’t he ever reach out to his mom? Just a call would have sufficed. He could have even visited her.

The silence continues.

Then—a cry of pain—and relief drops through Scott’s chest.

It’s immediately chased by exhaustion, and a little bit of shame (it’s not like this putting-off of his death sentence will change anything that he has or hasn’t done, and all it’s doing is causing pain to this other man), but he only swallows and allows himself to be led away.

-

“Give me the gun.”

There it is again—that jump in his stomach, the weakness in his legs, because this is it, this time. No more trials. 

Seven is a meaningful number, Scott heard once. He doesn’t know what it means. He has to assume it means the end.

“Good. Shoot—”

BANG.

Scott can’t help it—he flinches (he curses himself in the moment for flinching)—

He . . . isn’t hit.

There’s sounds—sounds of a struggle, shouts and deafening gunshots and the men on either side of him split apart, leaving him standing alone—and Scott hasn’t properly walked or stood on his own in what feels like days, so he sways in place, but he can’t balance himself with bound hands—

Running footsteps come toward him, and someone (who smells like sweat and blood, gross) wraps an arm around him before he can fall.

“Run, run, run!” the man’s voice says, too loud in his ear.

And what’s Scott supposed to do but run?

He lets the man guide him, stays as close as he can without tripping over his legs. He runs blindly, desperately trying not to fall—which is harder than it looks, blindfolded and handcuffed and weak. He manages to follow the twists and turns fairly well until the man drags him on a sharp turn and he stumbles over his own feet, falling flat on his face.

“Oh, geez—sorry, one second—”

A door squeaks; hands grab at his face, and the gag is pulled and pulled (and with it, painfully, the corners of his lips) and then torn loose. Scott gratefully lets his mouth fall shut, then winces as the blindfold is forcefully ripped from his eyes.

He opens his eyes (which hurts, the light hurts, how long has he been here?) and looks up.

In the dim lighting, Scott blinks past watery eyes and sees the man who has held his death in his hands seven separate times.

He’s—

He’s actually kind of hot.

Like, yeah, there’s blood trickling down the stubbly side of his face, and he has a massive black eye, and his blond hair is clumpy and tangled and gross-looking, but . . . he’s got potential. He definitely isn’t the worst last thing to see.

Scott swallows, his mouth bone-dry and tongue swollen, and manages, “Hey, hot stuff. What’s a guy like—like you doing in a place like this?”

Adorably, the man blushes. “I—um—can you shoot?” he blusters.

Scott hopes he manages a devilish smirk with his numb lips. “Only if you buy me dinner first.”

“Holy moly.” The man actually gets up and walks away, though he returns after only a few seconds. “Look, I can get us out of here if I can get a phone. You wouldn’t happen to have one, would you?”

“I haven’t checked,” Scott grouses. “I think it was confiscated in the onboarding training.”

“Yeah, same,” the man says absently.

Scott would check his pockets, but his hands happened to be bound with actual handcuffs, rather than the bungee cords that had bound him to the chair. He hasn’t noticed anything in his pockets as of yet—and who would leave a prisoner with their cell phone? It’s likely long been destroyed.

“Okay, well—I have these guns,” the man says, holding out two handguns. “Genuinely, can you shoot?”

“Not like this,” Scott says drily, jangling his handcuffs. The man hasn’t even offered to help him up. He’s just lying on the dusty carpet of this—it looks like a small meeting room, with a table in the center and a handful of chairs scattered about.

Come to think of it, it probably wouldn’t be too hard to hold a gun while handcuffed, but Scott isn’t exactly a marksman. He can hold his own in a fistfight, and he’s actually pretty decent with knives, but guns aren’t his specialty. Sure, they keep a handgun in the office in case of emergency, but he’s never really needed to use it.

“And I can only shoot one right now. . . .”

Scott scoffs, which quickly turns into a real coughing fit. When he can breathe, he chokes out, “You can only shoot one, period. Dual-wielding pistols doesn’t actually work, genius.”

The man shrugs. “I’ve been practicing, I can get decent cover fire. But they broke a few fingers, so. . . .” He holds up his left hand, which Scott can just barely tell in this lighting is shockingly swollen.

Despite his doubts on the gun matter, Scott grimaces. Broken fingers hurt, and he’s only ever broken one before (perks of accidentally slamming your hand in a door). He can’t imagine breaking multiple, then having to shoot with that hand.

“Okay. Here’s the plan,” the man says, checking out the open door. “First person to walk by, I shoot ‘em and take their phone. Then I call my friends and we get out of here.”

“That’ll be way too loud,” Scott points out. “They’d kill us before any of your supposed friends even showed up.”

“Well, it’s not like you’re throwing around any clever ideas,” the man says hotly.

Which is entirely unfair, seeing as Scott is literally lying on the floor, and until mere minutes ago was not only handcuffed, but blindfolded and gagged. Honestly, it’s shocking he can even function right now. It’s shocking he’s even alive right now.

They’re not actually going to escape, right? There’s no way, not when they’re in the depths of the Neighbors’ organization, when there are surely plenty of skilled fighters searching for them right now. They’ll probably kill Scott on the spot, then take the other guy back to continue whatever they’re doing with him.

“Search the room, would you?” the man says. “I’ll keep a look-out.”

Scott rolls his eyes, then shifts to his knees and pushes himself up, starts going through the room.

It’s just as small as he’d assumed, a table barely larger than a desk in the center with four chairs, two on either long side. There’s not any sort of tech in here, not even a projector, and the whiteboard on the wall only has a singular dried-out marker with it. 

He turns around to tell the guy that there’s really nothing here, but he already has a preemptive hand held out toward Scott, clearly signalling to be quiet.

Scott freezes. Listens.

He doesn’t hear anything until the footsteps are almost upon them, just outside the door of the meeting room, and quick as a flash his accomplice darts out the door, then back in, dragging a struggling man in a suit with him, hand with the broken fingers covering his mouth.

There’s a moment’s struggle in which Scott’s accomplice tries to drag the suit to the ground, and the suit tries to get his gun aimed behind himself to shoot him. Scott’s fairly certain he hasn’t been noticed yet—he hurries forward, ramming his head into the suit’s stomach—

The force of it bowls all three of them to the floor with a loud thud. Scott rolls over someone’s lumpy body—his new friend cries out—the Neighbor grunts—

It’s too dark, for goodness’ sakes, Scott can’t see and he’s all turned around, his hands held together by the stubborn cuffs, there’s no way he’s going to survive this—

BANG!

Blinding pain overcomes Scott’s entire system and he thinks he only doesn’t scream because he’s left without any air in his lungs. He doesn’t know where he’s been hit, but it hurts more than anything that’s ever happened and he can’t see, can’t feel his body, can’t do anything but gasp in agony.

Is he dying? He’s probably dying. He’s definitely dying, it—it hurts so—

What’s happening? Why is he dying? He’s dying—

Scott isn’t sure how long he spends hanging in the limbo of all-encompassing torture. At some point, though, the pain begins to centralize in his right arm, and he sucks in a deep breath, some of the red on the back of his eyelids fading. The ringing in his ears starts to recede, little by little, until he can hear someone muttering in his ear.

“—you’re all right, help is coming, just need you to stand up—”

An arm worms its way under his back and pulls him up slowly, Scott helpless to prevent it. His knees buckle when his bare feet find the floor, but whoever has him doesn’t let him fall. His right hand pulses angrily, far too hot for him to focus on much else.

“Come on, it’s not that bad. We need to get out of here so my buddies can get us away, right? Can you open your eyes?”

Scott tries. He really, really, does, but he can’t quite wrench them open, his eyelids soldered shut. He does manage, however, to stand, though his legs tremble weakly under the weight of his body.

“Let’s go, let’s go. Are you gonna pass out? You look white as a ghost. Stay awake, yeah? What’s your name?”

His name. Scott lets the person supporting him guide him forward. “Scott,” he rasps.

“Cool, nice to meet you. What do you do for work, Scott?”

“Junkyard. I—” Scott finally forces his eyes open, the world before him grey and tear-blurred. “I—”

“Junkyard, that’s cool. Got any family?”

They’re escaping. They’re getting out of here, Scott and this random man. What happened with the other guy, the one in the suit? Did they take him out?

“Scott? You good?”

“Yeah,” Scott breathes, and his hand pulses—

He looks down.

He can’t really tell what’s up through his tears, but there’s a dirty piece of fabric tied around his hand, soaked through with blood. Blood’s all up his arm, all over his leg, dripping lazily from his fingers. He blinks, blinks again.

“Can you walk yet?” the man asks, and Scott now notices how exhausted he sounds, almost entirely out of breath. “‘Cuz—dude, I can’t go on like this.”

Surely he can walk, right?

Scott decides to at least try.

He pushes off of the man—not completely, but enough that he’s mostly supporting his own weight. He’s still pretty much blindly following, but they really ought to move faster if they’re actually going to get out. Scott pushes past the jelly that his legs have become and increases the pace, swallowing back the instinct to vomit.

“What’s y’r name?” he forces out, more to keep himself conscious than out of actual curiosity. Which is probably why the man was asking him personal questions in the first place, come to think of it.

“Jimmy,” the man replies, after only a moment’s hesitation. “I think—I think that’s the door out. It looks like—here—”

They push together on metal, heavy heavy metal—

Scott breathes in fresh air—

Then his legs give out entirely.

He sinks to the ground in some sort of weird slow motion, and Jimmy manages to drag them both over the threshold before he’s falling too, and Scott feels all fuzzy in the back of his mouth and really, really sick. . . .

Then black.

-

“I can’t believe you passed out on the doorway.”

“Uh-huh, and who was it who basically dropped me?” Scott retorts, no heat in his words. Jimmy snorts.

“I’ll have you know, I had three broken fingers, four cracked ribs, and a broken collarbone,” Jimmy counts off. “Not to mention all the bruises. You just had a tiny gunshot wound.”

“A gunshot wound that blew off half my hand,” Scott says wryly, gesturing to his heavily-wrapped right hand, now bereft of a pinky finger and a decent chunk of his palm. “Those tend to bleed a lot.”

Jimmy winces. “Sorry—”

“No, you’d better not be apologizing again,” Scott interrupts. “Losing a finger is better than losing my life.”

“I should’ve been able to get the gun away from him, though,” Jimmy says awkwardly. “I know this stuff, I’ve been doing it for years.”

“Right, I totally expect you to be perfect after being tortured for a week.”

“Oh, come on, it wasn’t—”

“You’re both injured and you aren’t supposed to be out here,” a voice comes from behind them. Scott’s heart jolts, but only Grian comes up in front of them, arms folded over his zipped-up leather jacket. “Come on. In you get.”

Being out on the back porch had been fun while it lasted, Scott supposes. Back to the weird library-turned-hospital.

But Grian grabs Scott’s left arm, shoos Jimmy on when he pauses. “Go on, get your bandages changed. Scott and I need to talk.”

Jimmy hesitates a moment longer, eyes darting between Scott and Grian. Scott, despite his nerves, nods confidently.

“I won’t be long,” he says. “I’d never miss a chance to see you shirtless.”

The tips of Jimmy’s ears turn pink and he grumbles something, but heads on inside. Once the door to the patio closes, Grian lets go of Scott, leans back on the railing.

“You have to stay, now,” he says bluntly. “You’re too much of a risk.”

Scott grimaces. He doesn’t remember how they got here—he fainted as they left the building, then woke up in a bed in the heart of the Bad Boys’ base. Eight years he’s avoided swearing fealty to any gang, and somehow, he’s ended up with the Bad Boys. “I have a business,” he tries half-heartedly.

Grian snorts. “You think the Neighbors don’t know where it is? They’ll kill you before the day’s over.”

Okay, he really didn’t think that would work, anyways. New tactic. Become a Bad Boy?

He really doesn’t want to be a Bad Boy, but until he can find a way to flee the country, he’s probably stuck here. Good thing he’s hurt his hand so, he won’t be expected to be any sort of gunman.

He’s pretty good at making the most of situations, though.

“I think I have some talents that the Bad Boys would find useful,” he says. “As long as I’m compensated.”

“You’ll have to talk to someone a bit higher up the food chain to work that out.”

Scott nods. “The Baddest of Boys.”

“Please never say that again.”

“The Worst Boy, even.”

“Go back to bed.”

Scott chuckles and moves to head back inside, but once again, Grian catches his arm.

“Tim’s got a lot of people protecting him,” he says in a low voice. “If you’re just messing around, you’d better leave him alone.”

Which doesn’t make any sense, Scott thinks as he heads back to his library-hospital bed. He doesn’t even know a Tim.

[air-conditioning-unit]

Happy birthday* to my little creature Percy :]

He turned 2** today!(Yesterday!!) He got some special treats and the exact same amount of love and attention as always(pets literally every time I see him lmao)

*the day we got him, idk his real birthday

**very likely 2, I'm not 100% sure but given the timeline he was probably like 1-ish when we got him(he's adopted)

[mayhasopinions]

they reminded him of his eyes 💙

[ellie513]

so i bought one of the new generations of furbies

it was like $28 from bezos and this color one and the other color (coral) both dropped in price to $22.49 and like....im not passing that up. TWO furbies for less than ONE brand new??? (furbies have been $60 at launch since like the 2016 launch i think? first gen mightve been that much but i dont passively know much info about the first gen)

hasbro has also released these little furblets so i bought the cheapest one i could find to come with the coral baby

very exciting

[vervielle]

Hope you aren't too swamped in request and don't feel pressured to get this one done super fast or anything. Do you think you could draw Lapis Lazuli spacing out? It can be anywhere whether it be the grassy field in front of the barn or on a pillar of water like that one time. Thank you a ton and I love seeing your art in my feed, it's really really good, it makes me wish I were better at art!

Lapis spaces out

So here's a 7 second video (it literally took 12+ hours, I started yesterday, so I have a new deep respect for animators now what)

I kind of gave up idc anymore

Thanks for the request, Retro ghost! Thank you sooo much, you interact with basically every one of my posts and it makes me so happy every time <3 you inspired me to try animation FOR BASICALLY THE FIRST TIME EVER !! it looks so choppy bc ididnt know what I was doing but oh well!!

Also I thought the way you worded "spacing out" was funny and I thought like what if Lapis actually SPACES out so

Oh noo Lapis she forgor to bring water :( She is spaced out :((

Doodle plus version of the tiny animation

I really wish I'd drawn the barn area instead because ugh kinda hard but drawing the water tower and galaxy was lowkey fun asfff

ALSO RETRO TYY I MADE SO MUCH BC I LOVED THE PROMPT ALSO YOU'RE A COOL PERSON SO YOU GET LOTS OF LAPIS 😀👍

[onjapiii-39]

I forgor to post this here yesterday so Happy (late) Easter

[dare1pon]

The Peacock and The Crow

(Chapters 9 & 10)

Word count: 5,898

TAGS:

Reyno - @radkatzzstuff

Elaine (character who finds june in forest) - @lordofthefrogs11

Author's note: chat I forgor it was the 25th today lmao anyways (UPDATE LIKE 5 MINUTES LATER AFTER POSTING THIS I JS REALIZED THAT CHP TEN IS KINDA DONE SO I DECIDED TO ADD IT HERE)

CHAPTER NINE: Can't wait to tell this story to my grandchildren.

The next day was the same as yesterday, a horn woke us half bloods up and everyone headed out. I yawned and stretched, hearing the loud cracks coming from my joints and my back, sleeping on the floor wasn't ideal, it was stiff but at least I had somewhere to sleep. I saw Rey already at the hermes table, talking with some other camper who looked to be the same age as him.

“morning Junie!” Rey got up from his seat after giving the camper he was talking to a small goodbye wave. “morning.” I grumbled, rubbing my eyes as he went up to me. Its energy like this that I wonder if he photosynthesizes this energy. We sat back down at the table, waiting for the food to be served. Rey went to talk about more on his life, the wolf house, Lupa, and other stuff until Keaton came by and did the same thing as yesterday. Make some big speech on how he was gonna save us all.

”I have a question, what is this prophecy Keaton’s talking about?” I looked to Rey, already tuning out Keaton in the background. “oh, it goes like this!” Rey let out a cough before speaking out this prophecy. “A child, one feared but one most cheered. Be the one, the prophecy neared.” Rey continued, this seems interesting. “through the deepest depth, lay a great name, find the one who attains this fame.” Rey ended with that, the breakfast soon came. Reyno had gotten eggs and bacon, I got a grilled cheese sandwich. “so thats what Keaton’s been on and on about? never really did get that ‘most feared’ part from him.” I told Rey, he was already shoveling the bacon into his mouth as if it was the last meal he’s ever gonna have. “Same here but the moment Keaton heard of this, he immediately started acting all special.” 

“Well, I guess whatever happens, we’ll find out soon enough, huh?” I said, taking another bite of my grilled cheese. It was comfort food, and right now, I needed that.

Rey nodded, his mouth still full of food. “Yep. Whatever the prophecy means, it’s probably going to make things interesting around here. Hopefully, we don’t all get dragged into whatever chaos Keaton’s convinced we’re about to face.”

“Let’s just hope that ‘great name’ in the prophecy isn’t referring to him,” I muttered under my breath. 

Me and Rey finished breakfast, after that he took me to do the camp activities. The first thing he wanted to do was fighting so we went to the arena. “here! I’ll teach you how to wield a sword!” As we walked in, there were already people sword fighting, some in the actual arena itself and others off to the side. I followed Rey to the rack of wooden swords, he tossed me one. It felt light in my hands, I held it on my right hand. Rey stood across from me, grinning widely. He wasn’t holding a sword, though. Instead, his eyes twinkled with mischief, and I noticed his hands were flexing, his nails beginning to elongate, sharp and claw-like.

“Ready for this?” he asked, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.

I blinked, taken aback. “Uh, you’re not using a sword?”

Rey laughed, a deep, easy sound. “Nah, I’m good without one! Watch this!” His hands fully morphed, the claws extending from his fingertips in a smooth, almost graceful movement. “I’ve got my own weapons.”

I swallowed hard as he flexed his claws, giving me a wink. “No need to worry. I’m not gonna bite... unless you really deserve it.” He gave an exaggerated growl, showing off his teeth.

I chuckled nervously. “Right... okay, let's do this.”

With a sudden burst of energy, Rey lunged, his claws swiping through the air faster than I could react. I raised the wooden sword in front of me just in time to block the strike, the sound of wood meeting claw ringing through the air. The force sent me stumbling back a step, my arms buzzing from the impact.

Rey straightened up, grinning ear to ear. “Whoa! Nice block! You’ve got some good reflexes! But you gotta think quicker, yeah? You can’t just wait for me to come at you.”

I tightened my grip on the sword, trying to shake off the initial shock. “Right, thinking. Got it.”

He bounced on his toes again, clearly enjoying himself. “Good! ‘Cause I’m gonna come at you fast. Don’t blink!” Without another word, Rey darted forward, claws slashing at my side. I tried to dodge, but I wasn’t fast enough—his claws grazed my arm, a sharp sting that made me grit my teeth. Everything seemed to just stop for a moment, I could hear my heartbeat louder then Rey’s voice. The blood from the slash on my arm only seemed to grow bigger as I stared at it, the metallic blood now filling my nostrils. My breath grew deeper while I felt the heat from my blood drip. I could only stand there, and hold my stance, sword still in hand. Last thing I saw before passing out was Rey lunging towards me, concerned.

It had probably been hours since I passed out, now I was in the infirmary. It was quiet in the room where I stayed, too quiet for my liking. My arm was not wrapped up in a bandage, there was a slight brown stain on it. I could still recall the smell of blood, metallic. That was the first real time where I felt just, scared? It really wasn't fear that I felt, I didn’t know what to feel. Looking around the room, Rey wasn't there. He probably felt bad for attacking me by accident.

”oh, your awake.” I heard a voice enter the room. It sounded calming. The first thing I saw was a tray of food, then I knew exactly who it was. “Keith?” I mumbled out, he must've heard it “how do you know who I am?” Shoot, I probably sounded like a creep “Uhm, a friend told me? Reyno. I don’t know his last nam-“

 “wolf guy? I saw him rush you here in a hurry, after that he left” I watched as Keith placed the tray of food down by the table to my right. As he got closer to me, I started to notice things I didn't yesterday: he had a mole on his upper cheek, right underneath his left eye, Keith also had an earring, it looked like a peacock feather. “how are your bandages, not to tight?” He snapped me back to reality as he touched my arm.

”Oh! yeah yeah, not too tight” I sat up while Keith was making sure my bandages were just right. Keith finished adjusting the bandage on my arm, his touch gentle but precise. I could feel the warmth of his hand linger for a moment, and I couldn't help but notice the careful attention he gave to making sure I was comfortable. 

Keith then turned around to place the tray of food on my lap. It was bread, some fruits and soup.”You should eat something. It's not much, but it's better than nothing.” “thank you” I mumbled, picking up the bread to eat.

Keith nodded before heading toward the door. "Take care of yourself, June. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask." He left, I was alone again. As I picked at the food, my mind drifted back to Rey. I wondered if he felt guilty about what happened—he must’ve been worried. I couldn’t blame him. It was my fault for freezing up like that. I should’ve reacted faster. 

I stayed in the infirmary, it had probably been a few hours since Keith had left me alone. I wonder how Rey’s doing, I should apologize to him, I should've been faster, should have countered his attacks. 

Then I spent the rest of my afternoon just at the infirmary, soon will came in and checked up on my arm before telling me that I could go back to cabin 11. He gave me the same yellow liquid from when I first arrived. It still tasted like mango pudding cubes. Leaving the infirmary with a new scar, the first person to run up to me was Rey.

He hugged me so hard I swear to you he would have broken my ribs. He was saying sorry a thousand times for his earlier actions, saying that he should have just used a wooden weapon rather then his claws. I just said that I forgive him and that it was my fault for not reacting faster. “WHAT?? but it was my fault that I slashed you an- and you didn't even know how to fight!” He rambled into my shirt, the anxiety prominent in his voice. “I know I know but, I should've dodged your attack. Reflexes, am I right?” I tried to lighten up the mood by smiling in the way that Will does, but Reyno just looked at me worried. I knew that look too well. 

We continued training, but Reyno was a lot more cautious than before. He watched me carefully as we fought, moving a lot slower. Reyno flexed and unflexed his claws, gripping the wooden sword he grabbed from the rack beside the training dummies. The scar on my arm stung a little, not fully but just a little. It felt like an ant bite, or a jellyfish one.

Reyno and I trained for awhile, we trained until it was dinner time. Same routine as yesterday, except Keaton walked up to me.

 “Hey, you! You’re the other new camper  that arrived here, right?” He gave me a look, the same look that one gives you before they start being mean for no reason at all. “Yeah…?” I mumbled, Reyno had left me by myself because he needed to talk to some other friends, maybe something important. I fidgeted, averting my eyes uncomfortably from his gaze.

 “What? You think you’re too  good to look me directly in the eyes?” I looked at them, just for a second. They pierced into mine like bright rubies, the moonlight reflecting off them menacingly. The effect made him look more threatening than how he really was. I winced, turning my head away. “Ha! So you do, huh?” He slowly stepped forwards, which a “Well, listen up, okay? I’m not gonna let you upstage me just because you’re also new. If you do anything remotely fancy like become some child of the big three!” He exclaimed, almost as if he was saying that I was gonna upstage him. “Stay in your lane, four eyes.” Keaton turned away right after flicking my forehead, it didn't hurt really. It felt like a fly just flew right into my forehead. That was a weird interaction, thankfully Rey came back and sat next to me. “Sooo, what did I miss?” “nothing really, Keaton just told me to stay in the background.” I shrugged, not really knowing what to say. 

The next day came by faster than I expected and Rey was called to go on a quest with some other campers. I recognized one of them as the camper I saw at the arena, the one who was practically beating the hell out of that training dummy. I wanted to go with him of course, but…

“It's better if you stay here at camp, Junie.” Rey put his hand on my shoulder, looking at me with a serious expression rather than his silly sunshine one. “But why?” I asked him, a bit confused. I know I didn’t know how to wield a sword or a bow but. I didn’t want to be alone. “You need some more training, but don’t worry! I’ll try and finish this quest as fast as I can!” He soon slung his bag over his shoulder, walking away after he ruffled my hair. I watched him leave with the others, he disappeared into the foliage of the trees, walking farther and farther away from where I stood.

This felt familiar somehow. 

“You look lonely” I hear someone remark from behind me, I quickly fixed my hair as I turned to see who it was, it was Keith. “Don't worry, I've seen Reyno finish a quest as fast as hermes, he’ll be fine.” I nodded, not really wanting to speak after Rey had left. The next day felt short, it passed, one blink and it was gone. All I could remember from that day was…Keith?

I woke up early, before everyone else. Shuffling through the covers of my sleeping bag, I found my glasses and stared at the small clock the person beside me had, 6:30 am. I got up, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. It was extra cold that morning, almost freezing. I pulled the covers of my sleeping bag off my legs, the cold hitting them. I shivered, even with socks on it still was cold for me. Honestly I don’t get how the campers here can wear shorts in the morning. 

The only and last clothes I had left that I had found in the lost and found were just some plaid white and blue pants and a black and red nirvana shirt. I wanted to go back to bed but my mind was telling me to take a walk outside. Quickly and quietly I left the cabin, looking around the place. It was plain, no campers running around or training. The slight sound of the trees and the wind whistling felt calming.

My eyes scanned the area, looking left and then right. Something, more specifically someone caught my eye, I saw a camper sitting by the campfire, wrapped in a blanket. It took me a second to realize who it was, Keith. I wondered why he was awake at this ungodly hour of the morning. There was something about him that felt somehow mysterious? I couldn't explain it but it was drawing me in.

Before I knew it, I was standing right behind him, Keith must've heard my footsteps. “I see i'm not the only one who wakes up this early” Keith looked at me, turning his head. 

He looked tired, almost like he’s never slept a day in his life, “what time did you wake up?” I asked, sitting next to him. 

“around 5? 5 or 5:20” I nodded, “I woke up at 6:30” 

We sat there in silence, just enjoying the warmth of the fire, Keith broke the silence “is your arm okay? you should probably change the bandages soon.” He said, looking down at my arm. It still stung a little, felt a bit numb, “oh, okay.” I replied, looking at my arm too.

“not much of a talker, are you?” He commented, “Your name's June right? June Manalo was it?” 

“yeah, how'd you know?” I was a bit surprised at that. I mean sure a few days before when Rey rushed me to the infirmary he would've said my first name but even I haven't told him my last name… 

Keith looked at me with a small smirk. "Rey mentioned it, when he was panicking about you getting hurt. It wasn’t exactly hard to piece together." He stretched, adjusting his blanket around him. “He talks about you a lot, you know. How you’re quick to forgive him and all that. Kind of cute, actually.” I let out a small chuckle “did he ask you to watch over me while he was gone?”

 Keith chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Nah. I just like the quiet. It’s peaceful, you know? I don’t get much of that during the day. And I’m used to being awake when everyone else is still asleep.” His eyes flickered toward me for a moment before he added, “I’ve seen you around camp. You don’t look like you fit in, not yet anyway.”

I frowned, not really sure how to take that. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged, his expression unreadable. “You’re different. You haven’t really found your place here, have you?” His gaze softened as he looked at me. “But you will. It takes time.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond. I didn’t know Keith had this way of seeing through people, like he understood something deep down that no one else did. And honestly, it kind of scared me.

“So, what about you?” I finally asked, breaking the silence again. “Do you feel like you belong here?”

Keith looked at me for a long moment, his expression blank. Then he exhaled slowly, pulling the blanket tighter around him. "Not really," he said, his voice quieter than usual. "I’m just here because I have to be. But I don’t really fit in with anyone either." He glanced at me, as if deciding whether or not to say more, but then shrugged it off. “It’s complicated.”

I didn’t push him for more, though I was curious. There was a lot about Keith that I didn’t understand, and something told me that if I kept digging, I might end up finding more than I bargained for. But for now, I was content with the quiet.

The fire crackled between us, and the silence felt less oppressive as the minutes ticked by. It was strangely peaceful, being with someone who didn’t feel the need to fill every moment with words.

Soon the breakfast sound rung, all the campers now leaving their cabins to eat food. 

Keith stood up, wrapping the blanket around him like a cloak, and stretched his arms above his head. "Guess it’s time for breakfast," he muttered, I started to follow him as he walked to the pavilion. It was the same old crowd, one I've gotten used to over the past few weeks. Separating from Keith, I felt his hand catch my wrist “Why don't you come sit with me at the hera table, June?” 

“...okay” I said, letting Keith pull on my wrist to his table. I watched him sit down and pat the seat next to him, I just kept my silence and followed. 

I followed Keith that day, wherever he went I went too, whatever he did I did too. I followed him like a lost cat or his shadow, Keith would pop in from time to time, saying something about the activity we were doing. He was pretty good at a lot of camp things, archery, arts and crafts and sword fighting. I sat off to the side most of the time since my arm still had to heal. I was able to do some camp activities though, like arts and crafts.

There was still that same feeling that someone was just watching me, my every breath, move, and speech. Looking around, nothing was out of the ordinary. That apollo camper and nico were hanging out, probably just chatting, younger campers were running around and playing some game, and others just doing what they wanted to. I shook my head, must be paranoia, but the moment I looked back to nico and that camper to check again, nico was staring at me as if I had some answer to a question he was burning to ask. 

Before I could even get up to ask nico to stop staring, keith tapped me on the shoulder. “do you want to head to the pavilion early?” I nodded, I'll just ignore nico. Maybe he’ll stop.

Dinner was just the same routine, except I had keith to sit and talk with me. We chatted about today’s activities or just some campers, “did you hear that demeter kid’s on her fourth boyfriend this week?” Keith whispered to me, I looked in the direction he was pointing at and saw a curly haired brunette hugging a dude’s arm “oh damn…how old is she?” I asked, she didn't look older than 13. “somewhere around…14 or 13 I think, her boyfriend is like 17”  I was surprised that a thirteen year old had a boyfriend who was 4 years older than her, was that not reverse pedophilia? 

Soon after dinner ended, keith walked me to go get more sleeping clothes in the lost and found. I didn't find much except for long baggy pants with stars on them and a t-shirt with a cat. He waved me good night after He walked me to the shower rooms.

I prayed to whoever and whatever gods that the shower rooms where empty, surprisingly they were. Turning on the shower valve, the water came out hot. The hot water felt good against my skin, its warm enveloping me like a warm hug I'd get from my friends. Showering was quick, I wanted to get out and onto my bed immediately. 

I was in and out of the shower rooms quick, putting on the clothes as fast as I can before bee lining to the cabin. The door was closed as I reached the foot steps of the cabin. “damnit!” I semi shouted to myself as I tried knocking, no answer. It was freezing outside and my sleeping bag was in there. Not wanting to cause a whole scene, I just laid down on the ground and curled up like a cat would. I pulled my arms into my shirt, crossing them for warmth. Why was it always so cold during the nights?

I felt sleep soon take me over, my eye lids getting heavier and heavier by the second. The last thing I saw before succumbing to the slumber was the moon…

CHAPTER TEN: The calm before the storm

The sound of laughter rang through my ears, eyes staring at me in every direction. I felt the void around me close in, taking every breath I had. When I looked up, I saw Keaton laughing at me, pointing to my shoes and my outfit. He laughed like a hyena, being joined by his group of friends. All of them surrounded me, predator and prey, pointing and whispering stuff unintelligible, their eyes were pure white with a black dot. 

I couldn't think, couldn't breathe out a word to say something. My mouth was covered with a piece of red tape. Their voices became louder and louder, filling up my ears. I tried running away, to find anyone or anything besides them. It was a dark and empty void that followed me with every step I took. I covered my ears to block out the sound of their laughing but it was no use. I soon stopped as a hooded figure, boney in structure appeared in front of me. He held his staff and lifted his hand up to point at me…

“your next, little crow.” His voice was raspy and hagarred, sounding like nails on a chalkboard. I stared at him and before I knew it, I was being dragged down into the depths of where I stood. It was red, blood red, I looked down to see what was pulling me and it was a white string that burned like a thousand fires. I tried to swim up but the surface only seemed to get farther and farther away. I just gave up, letting the blood red liquids seep into my lungs, the laughing stopped.

Is this what death felt like? Was this the freedom I needed? Death isn't something to be afraid of, it happens once and once only. Death is a beautiful thing, for it lets you be released from all the sins you have committed.

But soon, I woke up to a sharp pain to my stomach. “wake up four eyes!” I heard a familiar voice say, I jolted awake to see Keaton kicking my stomach as hard as he could. I winced but didn't do anything about it, “I said get up!” He yelled at me, I flinched. I got up as fast as I could, dusting myself off of the dirt Keaton had kicked onto me. “Sorry” I looked down to my shoes, feeling embarrassed that someone saw me sleeping outside on the ground like some dog. “Next time at least find a tree to sleep in, little bird.” Keaton scoffed and walked away, his entourage following him behind. My stomach hurt like hell after Keaton kicked it, all I could do was clutch my stomach with my bandaged arm as I walked to the pavilion for breakfast. I didn't want keith to see me right now, I looked pathetic, I looked like a homeless man. 

I headed straight to the hermes table, sitting beside two tall campers to avoid Keith seeing me. They didn't notice me sitting in between them, maybe it was because I was short. 

The two campers beside me were talking about something—probably the latest prank that had gone down—but I wasn’t really paying attention. I grabbed a piece of toast from the tray in front of me, the crunch almost too loud in my ears, and forced myself to take a bite.  The bread was dry, barely tasting of anything as I chewed. My mind kept drifting back to the nightmare, the feeling of suffocation, of being dragged deeper into that suffocating red abyss. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, trying to push it out of my head. I wasn’t sure if the pain in my stomach or the memories from the dream were worse. Maybe they were both a sign that I wasn’t really awake yet. 

"Hey, you alright?" A voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

I turned to see one of the campers beside me looking at me with mild concern, her dark eyes studying my face. I hadn't even noticed her sitting there until now. I blinked, caught off guard. "Huh? Oh, I’m fine."

She gave me a skeptical look, clearly not buying it. "You sure? You look... off."

I forced a smile, though it felt more like a grimace. "Just tired. Bad night."

She nodded slowly, her expression softening a little. "Yeah, I get that. The camp can mess with your head sometimes. Just don’t let it drag you down."

Her words hung in the air like a distant echo, and for a moment, I couldn’t decide if they were comforting or just another reminder that I wasn’t really fitting in here at all. Still, I appreciated the gesture. She wasn’t Keaton, who seemed to take pleasure in making my life more difficult.

"Thanks," I muttered, trying to sound more at ease than I felt. 

As I finished the last of my toast, I forced myself to stand and blend into the crowd, pretending to be like everyone else. My eyes wandered for a moment, and that was when I saw Keith—his usual calm demeanor as he sat by the fire, chatting with a few campers. He didn’t seem to notice me right away, and for a second, I almost let the chance slip away.

She gave me a small smile before turning her attention back to her own breakfast, and I did the same. But my mind didn’t settle. It never did anymore. Every second was a battle between the familiar chaos of camp life and the unsettling thoughts that kept creeping in.

I didn't realize it at the time, but the more I looked at the campers around me, the more I felt like I was on the outside looking in—again. No one knew what I was really going through. No one understood. Not even Rey. The day continued on as normal, like everyday but I tried my hardest to hide away from keith. Every activity I did I made sure keith wasn't there or looking my way.

The activities were a blur, each one slipping by faster than the last, but the weight in my chest never quite lifted. Every time I thought about Keith, I felt a knot twist tighter. I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was watching me, even when he wasn’t. That constant, gnawing sense that I was always on the edge of something terrible, something I couldn’t control.

I still followed the same routine, after dinner I showered and got a new set of clothes. The sun was starting to dip low in the sky, casting long shadows over the campgrounds, but I hardly noticed the change. The unease gnawed at me, crawling beneath my skin like a bug that wouldn't leave. I couldn't escape the feeling that someone was always lurking just out of sight, waiting for me to slip up. My thoughts kept drifting back to Keith. He was there—somewhere in the back of my mind—like a shadow, just out of reach but always there, like the echo of a bad memory. 

The sun sank lower, painting the sky with streaks of orange and pink, I found myself walking toward the edge of camp, away from the laughter and the noise. I needed to breathe, to get away from everyone and everything. I felt bad, not more or so depressed but bad, I didn’t do anything wrong though? Why am I feeling this way if all I did was wake up? Maybe that was the problem, maybe me just being here was the problem all along. I didn’t even notice when I walked up to a tree somewhere on the outskirts of camp. 

I let out a long breath, hoping the air would clear my mind, but it didn’t. It never did. My eyes shifted to the campfire, far off into the distance. It was cold. I missed the warmth from the campfire, the heat from the flame warm against my skin.  There had to be something else, something I could focus on that didn’t tie me to this dark place. But every time I tried, my mind circled back to the same fears, the same dread. It was like a storm inside me, relentless and impossible to ignore. The feeling of the shadows wrap around me, covering me like some shield. I pulled my knees up to my chest, hiding my face in my arms.

I want to disappear.

“Hey is anyone over there?” I looked up to see a camper, she had blunt bangs and glasses. Her hands were cupped against her mouth, making whatever she was shouting louder for me to hear. I immediately got up from my spot, brushing myself off as I walked over. “oh hey, just uh…needed some air to breathe?” I said, my voice a little higher pitched then normal.

The camper blinked at me, clearly not expecting that response. “Yeah? Well, you might want to breathe a little quieter next time, or someone’s going to think you’re dying out here.” Her voice was sharp but oddly casual, like she wasn’t fully invested in the idea of small talk. I had expected her to keep walking, maybe even roll her eyes at my awkwardness, but she just stood there, watching me with a raised brow.

“Not dying, just... drowning in my own thoughts,” I muttered, quickly regretting it. "But hey uhm…I mean, it's not like anyone cares about that anyway, right?"

She raised an eyebrow, her lips curling slightly, but she didn’t shoot back some snarky remark like I expected. Instead, she just gave me a look that said she wasn’t entirely convinced, but also not entirely interested in making me feel worse. Right, 'cause it's totally normal to just let your brain run wild like that. Must be so easy to ignore the chaos," she said, with a sardonic edge. There was a moment of silence, before she sighed dramatically, almost like she was annoyed with herself. “Look, I'm not here to lecture you, but whatever mess you're swimming in, don't think you're the only one who’s drowning.”

She paused, and for the first time, her gaze softened, if only just a little. “But hey, everyone needs air sometimes. Just... don't stay out here too long, or you might catch a cold. And then you’d really be miserable.” Her voice was still blunt, but it didn’t feel quite so harsh anymore. I walked with her back to the campfire, she waved me off before going to sit somewhere else. I didn't see Keith, surprisingly.  I sat back down by the fire, I tried to push the feeling of unease away, but it lingered, like a shadow I couldn’t shake. The embers crackled in front of me, casting flickering orange light over the ground, but even their warmth didn’t seem to reach the cold that had settled in my chest. I glanced around the fire, noting the others talking and laughing, the familiar sound of camp chatter that I’d been trying to avoid all day. But nothing felt normal anymore, not even the crackle of the fire.

I wasn’t sure when it happened, but at some point, my mind slipped back to the events of earlier that morning. The sharp pain in my stomach still throbbed, a reminder of Keaton’s kick. The way he’d smiled, how his laugh felt like a weight sinking into my chest. And then there was the red tape. I could almost feel it pressing against my mouth again, suffocating me, as if I could never speak, never escape. I could still hear his voice echoing in my mind, mocking, taunting.

I swallowed hard, trying to push the thoughts away, but they clung to me, like dirt on my skin I couldn’t wash off. Maybe if I hadn’t been sleeping outside like that, maybe if I hadn’t looked so... weak, he wouldn’t have done it. Was it my fault? The fear of being seen as less than, as not enough, gnawed at me. But what did Keaton see when he looked at me? Weakness, probably. An easy target.

I rubbed my stomach absentmindedly, feeling the bruise there, trying to ignore the shame creeping up. I shouldn’t have let him get to me. I shouldn’t have let him laugh. But I hadn’t been able to stop myself. I hadn’t been able to do anything.

It didn’t matter. He was gone now, and I was here, still stuck in my own head. I could almost hear the laughter again, reverberating in the back of my mind, like an echo that wouldn’t fade. The shadows of the fire flickered, and for a moment, it felt like I was sinking again—like I was drowning in the feeling of it all. That same helplessness. I didn’t even know if I wanted to fit in here. I didn’t know if I ever had. All I knew was that I couldn’t keep pretending it didn’t matter. That maybe it didn’t hurt.

But even though I knew I wasn’t the only one drowning, I couldn’t help but feel that my weight was heavier than anyone else’s. Everyone else seemed so sure of their place, so sure of who they were. And here I was, stuck in this endless loop of self-doubt, of fear, of wanting to disappear.

The fire flickered one last time, the warmth barely brushing my skin, and I found myself standing up, walking away from it all, needing space, needing air. Away from the noise. Away from everything.

I didn’t know where I was going. I just knew I needed to go. To find something, anything, that would take away the feeling of suffocation, even if it was just for a moment.

And maybe that was all I could ask for. Just a moment. A moment where I didn’t feel like I was always drowning.

[stumped-on-bennington]

High key forgor to post yesterday, so here is days 2 and 3!

[lildudie18]

🐞 I forgor to post this yesterday so it's here w today's colored doodles bc I CAN'T. STOP. DRAWING. THEM. 🐞

🐞 my water colors lowk smudged her face a lil nooo my goat allura 😓😓 🐞

🐞 and other stuff (so far they're the only three I can draw from memory I'll draw the rest w refs so dw) 🐞

🐞 ye that's all I got I'm off to read bkdk fanfiction again bye 🐞

[winkk-koo]

For me the ship appeal for shuangshui comes from the following:

Both of them are big brothers who'd do anything to protect their little siblings

If the roles were reversed HX would have done the same to save his sister

"Have you no remorse" if HX truly only hated him why would he care if swd felt bad about what he did? He's invested in the outcome and was desperate for an apology and acknowledgement of his feelings (which SWD only denied him because SQX was at risk)

HX saw SWD's face at death and that's what kept him bound to this world instead of passing on

After killing SWD, if HX was satisfied in his revenge his soul should have dissipated, but he's still here

You can argue this is bc of SQX, but ghosts can't change their obsession, or the resentment tying them to this world, and a ghost king has the strongest obsession of all

Shuangshui as a foil for hualian, basically what happens when you dedicate your existence to hate instead of love (which is, after all, the function of bw arc in the novel)

They don't have a chance in canon since it's very one sided, HX's obsession for a guy who doesn't even know who he is, but that's the tragic appeal of it, destroying the person you should have loved with your own hands, because you refused to understand your own heart, and dooming your soul to wander, unsatisfied, forever

And maybe if things had been different, Shi Wudu could have loved the soft, sensitive Scholar He, who would sacrifice it all for his sibling too

There's a lot of lost potential to explore, in another universe I would have loved to do laundry and taxes with you

Who is being so poetic in my asks!!!!!

Bro wrote amazing character analysis and expects to just get away with it

______________________________________

I really did not think of the actual meaning of both being water themed and why He Xuan Specifically chose this . And now that you say it i find it really interesting

Arrrh and the fact his calamity name is Black Water Sinking Ships when Shi Wudu does the same thing with ships that don't send him offerings before sailing 😭😭

He really copied that man he was supposed to hate everything about

(I also took a break from tgcf right after black water arc to start reading svsss so i didn't take into account that he might still be around. But thats really tragic he dedicated like 800? Years to his revenge and he wasn'teven satisfied with it and since the source of his suffering is basically gone he can't do anything about it now right)

I also- forgor to press "post" on this yesterday

[kanakori]

i meant to post this with the finished drawing yesterday but i forgor and idk how to add videos in reblogs so. heres the process of me losing my mind drawing the narrator (around 2-3 hours to finish, i took a lot of breaks bc i was Sick of it so idk the exact time)

[raisans-art]

I forgor to post yesterday so here’s day 6 a day late =w=

Day 6: emotion

- kiddies with crushes being cute =w= they’re married under the sacred vow of ring pops

Enjoy

[fireroll]

remember that crack (treat seriously) au i made. here's Basil. I'm very slowly getting the hang of colouring DSFJKSDF

ALSO he just turned 16 here! he's a couple months older than Aubrey, Kel, and Sunny sooo

btw in case you didn't see my post yesterday here's a brief summary of this au under cut ^^ (also i'll probably redo these doodles [refs?] a bunch of times)

it's based off that one pic with like a person going "THE REASON I FELT SO OUT OF PLACE IN MY FRIEND GROUP IS BECAUSE THEY WERE ALL IN A POLYAMOROUS RELATIONSHIP AND I DIDN"T KNOW" (it goes something like that 😭😭😭)

So basically one day around 3 years after Mari's death, Sunny gets forcefully busted out of his house. Literally. Kel breaks into his room through his window (he's standing on Aubrey, who's standing on Basil) and they drag him outside

He's like super confused, very much disorientated ("what????"), but hey. he had a great time so can't really complain.

Like...3 days later (adjustment period) the others sit him down and goes "Ok. haha. so..the Truth is out. it's been out for like, a little more than a year."

Sunny (repressed memories :c) is like "what Truth????"

Basil: ...the stairs?? Mari?? ring any bells?

trauma breaks out then gets resolved yada yada.

Sunny feels like he's missing something. Actually, he's felt like he has been missing something ever since he got out of his house. He assumed it's just cause he hasn't been here for like 3 years. Then he assumed it was because he didn't remember the Truth. Then...he can deny is no longer. He is Missing Something and he didn't like it.

Then he found out Basil, Kel and Aubrey were dating. like. wow.

(the whole thing has just been such a norm for the other 3 that they just totally forgot Sunny didn't know. it's not like they were purposefully leaving him out or something, it's just that...they forgor 💀)

Sunny: ok ok. cool cool, congrats. :)

(he's totally not jealous because he has Several Crushes™)

Eventual Solar System.

[seaofreverie]

Today I want to share the joy that Reading A Newspaper has brought me recently (yesterday).

Because you see, it's not very often that I can read a several pages long good quality feature on a band that I'm something of a fan of, considering that until last year at best, all and any musical favourites I had were next to unheard of in the, let's call it, professional music business. And said feature also gave a few mentions to the one and only fav band of all time which I'm also still not used to being able to read about in my language (because it only happened like 5 times in total so far anyway, but still). And I can buy the newspaper in my local store in this minuscule town and find Sparks inside, like wow, it really is My Sparks, in this real life physical newspaper that I just got. This was like a belated but very epic christmas gift for me and I'm not kidding.

But well yeah getting to the point now, Franz Ferdinand are starting their tour soon promoting their upcoming new album and they're stopping in Poland too, so there was this whole 14-pages long overview of their whole career, and while I was obviously interested in the whole thing I was most hyped about the fact that there would have to be something about FFS and Sparks there and this brings me to my delighful observation that wow, all of this is so, connected in a way. Like how there are these connections in inspiration and collaborations between many of my favourites that I didn't even think about probably being a thing before, but when I think about it it just makes so much sense. Like how in this interview with Alex Kapranos, the interviewer brings up Talking Heads and specifically Fear of Music, because the new Franz Ferdinand album also has this sort of overarching theme of fear. And it's funny because that's the first Talking Heads album I've ever listened to and still my favourite from them to this day and overall one of my all-time favourite albums. And I guess it shouldn't be that shocking that it'd come up here because Talking Heads were super influential and inspired thousands, but also until now I didn't think about how both these bands share the general direction of creating dance-able type of rock with lyrics that are often on the more reflective and "intellectual" side. And also that album has been recommended to me as the most TMBG-like of theirs so. Wow I wonder why I like it.

Ok there were also all these other things that I want to mention too, so, other miscellaneous points of interest:

In the debut album review, the reviewer said that during Tell Her Tonight Alex sings a lot like Russell Mael, who likes to sing in falsetto. And well I know there's also the Sparks connection in the form of FFS to come later but still, this was such a great SPARKS MENTION!!!! moment for me anyway. But also they got one thing wrong, because it's not that Russell likes singing in falsetto, Ron forced him to sing in falsetto by writing all of his songs in this crazy uper range of notes, and that's a very important detail !!!!!!

And ok I had no idea that Piss Off already existed in some form as far back as 2004!! Or I knew about this and then I forgor. Either way, fascinating piece of information

I need to know more about how these star-based ranking systems work because why would you call FFS an "excellent album" and then rate it 4 stars. Instead of, I don't know, 4 and a half or 5 maybe?? Especially since it apparently has only 2 "weak songs". And I have some major objections when it comes to this too, because we're calling Things I Won't Get a weak track now?? It's just underrated as heck, and that's a hill that I will die on

Also I could never be a music reviewer because these people can fit their whole commentary on one song within one sentence and I feel like I would have to write at least 3 paragraphs on even the least exceptional of songs on a given album before I can feel like I did it justice. I mean, this whole post itself shows how much of a problem this is for me, lol

Also guys were we all aware that FFS turns 10 next yeah. Oh god. Well I need to remember to keep my tradition and preapre a cool piece of fanart for that occasion then. Maybe they should give us FFS 2 to celebrate, I'm pretty sure there'd be lots of interest among the fandom in something like that. Anyway

Well also this wasn't the only article in this whole thing of course and CAN YOU BELIEVE IT, there was a little bit on the Harrison & Belew Remain In Light Tour, which I will also be attending!!! Lots of great stuff is cooking for the first half of 2025 for me musically I can't lie

And also CAN YOU BELIEVE IT, that a year and a half since it was supposed to be released "worldwide" and long after I already lost hope that I'd ever see it in a cinema, they're releasing Stop Making Sense in cinemas over here too. Fucking finally!!! By gods and heavens, that rare moment when you learn about something crucial through a goddamn instagram ad of all places. And then they also reminded me about this in an actual article so well wow. Can you believe this. I can't. So stocked for next saturday when i'm seeing this movie the way it was always supposed to be seen hehehe

Ok I think that's it. Thank you for reading and maybe I should really make that personal website for my rambles in the new year. I'd definitely put that thing to use.