#it is back and it thrives in my brainspace

[sapphis-lazuli]

self rb because i was brainstorming for the fic i mentioned (i have an unquenchable thirst to write side stories and oneshots) and i had Ideas

kazuma trains the sohmas in using their hero powers but tohru is clumsy as ever and it doesn't work but as it turns out only kyo can teach her but only when yuki's helping (my au my rules)

how much do you want to bet ayame uses second chance for the dumbest shit possible

machi discovers yuki's identity

she gets home that night where she discovers a small hexagonal box which contains a beautiful pendant shaped like a fox tail

yuki gets sick and secretly gives his miraculous to kakeru, who toes the line between "chaotic disaster child" and "best temp hero we've ever had"

hatori, while treating yuki, notices his apparent lack of a pendant and asks, which prompts hatori to begin internally panicking

"you gave the MIRACULOUS OF THE RAT to THAT kid"

"hatori i'm ill cut me some slack"

kimi and nao see mouse hero kakeru on the news and at the next stuco meeting they give him the stink eye the entire time because kakeru is Incredibly Obvious and Not Subtle At All

alternatively: dragon mayu

or NO WAIT BOTH AT THE SAME TIME

on a similar note, shigure and ayame swap miraculous for a few days Just Because

and they destroy EVERYTHING

god bless tohru's miraculous cure

who else thinks megumi would make an awesome turtle

i think that's it for today

one of my favorite ideas: fruits basket miraculous au

by which i mean that instead of transforming into the zodiac animals, each of the cursed sohmas has the corresponding miraculous because i mean. they're all there

reasons why:

kyo and plagg: disaster team who never shut up and are torn between annoying each other or yuki and mullo

hatori and longg: look at them they'd be like besties within two weeks tops

ayame and sass: ayame hung up on the fact that his kwami is named sass and sass constantly either confused or annoyed by whatever shit ayame happens to be pulling now

momiji and fluff confusing each other constantly. also, momiji with the miraculous which allows him to travel through time. he'd be a disaster but also i just love momiji with a pocket watch, that's pretty cool

ritsu constantly terrified of his powers and learning to embrace them and not be so nervous about hurting others

rin wearing those glasses. she'd be so pretty that's all i can think of sorry i'm very pan

hiro wearing hair clips shaped like ram's horns. that's all i have to say on hiro just think about it

they get chased down by villains almost every day and they always end up smashing shigure's front doors again and again and again

tohru finds the ladybug miraculous one day walking home to her tent. never tells anyone, is extremely nervous, just. disaster

optional: arisa with the bee and saki with the peafowl. they'd be fabulous and you can't convince me otherwise

the ladybug miraculous used to belong to akito and she gets all salty and that's why she becomes hawkmoth to try and get it back

the only one who isn't aware of hawkmoth's identity is tohru. other than that everyone is fully aware of who owns which miraculous. bonus points if tohru meets akito and akito is like "hmm so this is ladybug" and tohru is internally panicking and "yuki who's this" and yuki and kyo are trying to not let disasters happen and mostly failing

also the general disaster that is tikki and plagg living in the same household

please feel free to expand on this

[disastrouslyyours]

I saw you mention Swatch earlier, so how about they show Spamton what for if you catch my drift. >:3

Ooooooh Swatch my beloved!! I love them, I’ve said it before but they really deserve my brainspace more than Spamton does. (Don’t tell him I said that, he’ll get Big Sad lmao.)

(this ask is so old ald;kfjasd my brain has been Wild lately. in fact, all of these asks are old now hahaaa. Not sure how I feel about the characterization of Swatch in this one but I'm posting it anyway! Swatch can have a lil stress ball friend, as a treat.)

There are only so many times you can catch a certain miniature salesman attempting to break into the “basement” of the castle in a week before you start to lose your cool.

Unfortunately for Swatch, they had hit their limit and it was only Tuesday.

They didn’t mind the commotion when it was a once-a-month escapade; in fact, they considered it to be more of a check-in than anything. At least they could confirm their former coworker (and dare they say, friend) was alive. Perhaps not thriving, but at least alive. It was when once-a-month turned into once-a-week that then turned into almost-every-day that Swatch started to feel their composure slip. Swatch always tried to be the one to catch him and throw him out, which was more an attempt to save what remained of his face than anything else. Today, after already having thrown out Spamton twice, Swatch had officially found their limit. Squirming salesman underwing, they brought Spamton out to the back of the castle where they usually punted him into the dark alley. Spamton spared no theatrics, even though Swatch had nearly all of his pleas memorized by now, as he struggled and cursed a string of censored words. Swatch ignored his desperate ramblings as they adjusted their grip on the nuisance, one hand grabbing his collar and the other his coattails as they prepared to launch him into the night. While doing so, Swatch heard a strange sound shudder out of the man’s voice box.

Then again, Swatch exclusively heard strange sounds leave that man’s mouth.

Still, there was no denying that Swatch heard what sounded like a giggle the minute their hands were around his neck. They weren’t sure what this deranged husk of his former friend might find particularly amusing about his situation. On any other day, Swatch would choose to ignore this and continue to “take out the trash”, as it were, but today they were feeling rather vindictive. They turned around, swinging the salesman in their hands as they did so, and pinned him against the wall with a hand on either side of his hips.

“Spamton. We must stop meeting like this.” Swatch’s tone was as level as ever.

“I [Agree to Terms and Conditions], SWATCH MY FRIEND, MY [Old Pal], MY [Best Buddies]. WE SHOULD START MEETING LIKE BEFORE, LIKE THE [Good Ole Days]. IN FACT…” He continued to ramble on a string of words that Swatch simply could not process in their frustration, and found themselves accidentally flexing their hands into fists.

Or, they would be, if they didn’t find their hands full of a now definitely giggling salesman. Swatch connects the dots and stills their hands on his hips, a wicked thought forming in their mind.

“No, you don’t understand. You must stop entering the castle unannounced, looking for something that doesn’t exist in a room that doesn’t exist. Do you agree to those terms and conditions?”

Swatch felt a twinge of guilt. They weren’t really mad at Spamton; quite the opposite. They were always worried that someone like Tasque Manager or the Queen Herself would find him, which would not end nearly as well for the sorry dumpster dweller.

“SWATCH, MY [Valued] [Friend Request], IT ISN’T NICE TO [Lie Detected] TO YOUR [Old Pal Spamton].”

A part of Swatch felt bad for the next thought they had, but the majority of Swatch decided that Spamton had this coming and potentially was even asking for it.

That might’ve been a stretch, but it made Swatch feel better for what they were about to do.

“Here, let me help illustrate my point.” Swatch kneads into Spamton’s stomach, still holding him against the wall, and he completely dissolves into a fit of giggles. “Don’t come back for the rest of the day. In fact, it would be wise of you not to come back the rest of the week.”

“S-SWATCH, [PLEASE], DON’T!” Spamton squirms under their touch but is unable to free himself from Swatch’s strong grip.

“Someone else might discover you, which would lead you down a path to a fate much worse than this.” Swatch squeezes his sides a couple more times before gently placing him on the ground. Spamton blinks in confusion as he looks up at Swatch, unsure why they didn’t just throw him like usual.

“Now go. I’ll give you a head start running before I send a Swatchling or two after you.” Swatch smirks as they wiggle their feathered fingers, and Spamton immediately takes off in a mad dash. Of course, Swatch hadn’t planned to send any swatchlings after him. They wish they could enjoy the sight of Spamton running at mach speed away from the castle, but they couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that they’d see him again in another hour or so.

[jubilantwriter]

Heart Shaped like Sea Glass

(Part 1) (Part 2)  (Next)

Part 3 - Comfort Feeding

Summary:  Jasper forgets what it’s like to hunger, but a certain siren refuses to leave him alone until his very basic need is satisfied.

i hope this came out as funny as i had it imagined in my brainspace

// // // // //

It was all a dream.  That's what he finds himself thinking when he wakes up, once again, to the sun shining in through his window.  It was all a dream - how else would he explain away the disappointment that seeps into his chest at the thought of David?  That vision he had, where he heard and felt and held David in his arms, it was all but a dream.

Because David is dead.

No matter how much he wishes it isn't so.

He rolls onto his side and stares at the wall.  The shack remains quiet as the world continues to bustle around him.  Sounds of the ocean are distant, despite it being right outside.  He should get up, get something to eat, but he finds himself unable to move.  It's not like he's hungry, and even if he was, he'd have no food to eat.  Granted, all it would take is a quick trip into the nearby town, but the thought of having to fake pleasantries and wave off concerns from people he doesn't know is... a bit too much for him at the moment.

And anyways, he can go on without food for a little bit longer.  If he's desperate, he can seek out the local fisherman.  The old man would always hand him a fish or two, but once he insists on cooking it for Jasper, whatever energy the brunette has left is sapped, and he simply shakes his head and leaves the old man behind.

The fish then gets left in a pot that boils over, and whatever flavor the fish had is lost to the fire.  Not like he could taste anything anyways.  Everything tastes dull, flat, like parchment, and the thought of tasting anything sweet again leaves a roiling in his stomach that never seems to go away.

He's about to curl back up to sleep his day away when a loud slam gets his attention.

"Hello!"  A voice from his dream has him sitting up in confusion.  There, standing in the doorway with a smirk is... a siren?  His head throbs as blonde hair and blue eyes triggers something in his memories.  That... that wasn't a dream?  Then, did he really-?

Ah.

No.

Of course not.

He clenches his shirt as he looks at the siren with a tired gaze.

"Oh."

"I said I'd be back.  Good to see that my meal is still alive!"  The siren cocks his head to the side, smile still in place as he studies Jasper.  "Although, still not thriving I see."

"What are you talking about."

"I meant what I said, you know."  The siren stalks close to Jasper, talons clicking against the wooden floor as he folds his arms behind him.  "I am going to make you a meal to simply die for."

Jasper rubs his eyes as the dreamlike memories become more and more... vivid.  He was tricked, lured by the siren's song last night.  That would explain his hazy memories, his throbbing head, and the siren standing before him.  He should be dead - why isn't he dead?

And then.  A promise.  A deal.  

Right, of course.  Of course he would agree to that.  It's not like he had much to live for anyways.

"I believe you."

The siren's smirk falters a bit.  Jasper's probably the most boring prey the blonde has ever encountered.  He would apologize except, he really doesn't care.

"Hm.  Well, I can see that you're still resting in your... nest.  Have you not eaten yet?"

"No."  And he doesn't really plan to.  The siren frowns, looking around the near empty shack with distaste.  

"I see.  I've heard that you humans tend to keep food stocked up somewhere.  Where is your food storage?"

"Don't have one."  

The siren's frown deepens, talons clicking against the floorboards loudly.  "...No food storage?  So you have no food then."

"Yeah."

"Well, go out and get some!"

Jasper curls back under his thin blanket.  "Not hungry."  An irritated growl answers him as the clicking talons move away from him and towards the door.  He closes his eyes with a sigh.  Good.  Now he can be left alone.

The sounds of the ocean are a little clearer now as waves crash against the sandy beach.  A distant splash mingles with the call of the gulls, but he ignores it in favor of going back to sleep.  Maybe if he's lucky, the siren will feel hungry instead-

The only warning he gets is the heavy flap of wings before something wet slaps against his face.  He jolts upright with a yelp, and a fish falls into his lap.

"Gods!"  A dead eyed fish stares up at him as a soft rumble comes from the siren.

"Food."  The siren looks much too proud about a single fish.  "Eat it now."  Jasper looks down at the fish as its glassy stare stares back at him.  At least it's dead.  

...Still.  

"I can't eat this."  The satisfied smile on the siren's face drops as he glares at Jasper.

"And why's that?"

"I... I just can't."  He gingerly picks up the dead fish.  Five deep gouge marks are embedded in the fish's sides.  Jasper takes a peek down the siren's feet.  What looks like blood decorates the talons of one foot.  Oh.  Neat.

"Oh you've- give that to me."  The siren snatches the fish back from Jasper with a look of disgust.  "I thought you humans eat fish all the time!  Don't tell me you don't know how to eat this."

Uh.  "What?"  

The siren rolls his eyes.  "Look at me."

He really doesn't want to.

But he isn't given much of a choice as the siren tilts his head back and opens his maw.  The fish is dropped head first into his gaping mouth, much to Jasper's horror.  He shrieks as the siren looks to be choking on the fish- can't sirens chew??  They chew right??  The siren has teeth- look, he has teeth!  Why is he- 

"Why are you swallowing that whole?!"  Jasper jumps out of his bed and smacks the siren's back roughly.  The siren makes a startled gagging noise as the fish comes flying out of his mouth, only to be caught haphazardly by the siren's taloned hands.  Feathers fluff up in a rage as the siren shakes the fish in Jasper's face.

"Why did you do that for?!"

"You were gonna choke-!"

"No you idiot, I was showing you how to eat fish because apparently, you don't know how-"

"I know how to eat fish!"

"Then eat it!"  The fish gets shoved against Jasper's mouth as he recoils.

"Ugh!  Gross!"

"Wha-"  The siren pulls back, insulted as he looks between the fish and Jasper.  "Excuse me, but this is mackerel, and it is a delicious fucking fish, so apologize!"

"No- I- what??"  Jasper looks at the silver fish flopping sadly around in the siren's talons.  He blinks at the dead thing before muttering softly, "I... I'm sorry?"

"Good."  The fish is thrust back into his face.  "Now eat."

"I can't!"  He pushes the siren's hand away from him.  "It's raw!"

"It's... what?"  The siren looks back at the fish, scrutinizing it closer before looking back at Jasper, completely baffled.  "No, I told you, it's mackerel."

"No, I mean-"  Jasper runs his hand through his thick hair.  Of course the siren has no concept of raw or cooked food.  He just eats whatever he wants as is.  But Jasper can't do that!  He'll get sick and maybe die, and if he is to die, he refuses to go out by the means of a dead, slimy fish disagreeing with his stomach.  "I can't... eat the fish like this.  The flesh, as it is, will hurt my stomach and make me sick!"  The siren once again looks between the poor fish and Jasper before a look of exasperated understanding crosses his features.

"I understand now."  Jasper slumps his shoulders in relief as the siren nods.  "Humans have the stomach of a chick.  No wonder you creatures never live long."

"...What?"

"You need chick food."  The siren slaps the fish down on Jasper's table and quickly turns around.  "Wait here."

"No, wait-"  But the siren is already dashing out of his shack before Jasper can stop him.  He looks towards the dead fish with a sense of unease.  Chick... food?  Jasper trudges out of his shack and looks around the beach.  

No siren.

He looks up into the sky and shades his eyes.  Squinting, he sees a flying figure circling above him before flying off towards... the town?  Quickly, Jasper dashes after the siren, following his shadow as the siren heads towards the more wooded areas of the town.  The siren lands not too far from where Jasper skids to a stop, slumping over and panting as he watches the siren eye the grassy ground.  Before the brunette can process another thought, the siren begins to stomp on the ground, moving this way and that as he focuses on the task at hand.

...Whatever the task may be.  

The siren continues to stomp as Jasper watches with a tired mind.  The blonde stops for a moment, peers at the ground, before bending down to pluck something out.  He continues in this manner as Jasper idly watches, not really understanding this strange ritual the siren is doing, but also refusing to have the energy to try and decipher it.  After a few moments pass, the siren huffs in satisfaction and turns around.  His hands are carefully cupped around something as he stumbles back in surprise, his wings spreading slightly as he catches sight of Jasper.  He huffs again, but with a more irritated edge to it as he stomps over to Jasper.

“I told you to wait.”

Jasper shrugs as the siren comes to a halt in front of him.  “Got worried.”

"You’re impossible, but at least this will save me the trouble of having to travel back with live grub.”  He nods towards Jasper impatiently.  “Open your mouth."

Oh.  Oh no.  The words “live grub” makes Jasper take a step back.

"No."

"Human," he growls, "stop being difficult and let me feed you."

"What..."  He looks over the siren's shoulder to where he had been standing previously.  Whatever it was that he plucked from the ground, it can't possibly be for human consumption.  "What did you-"

The siren's eyes brighten as he quickly shoves something wet and squirming and alive into Jasper's open mouth.  He spits it out immediately and starts scraping his tongue.

"AUGH!"  He looks at what he had spit out onto the siren's fuming face and shrieks again.  Worms!  He was trying to feed Jasper living worms!  "AAGH!"

"What is your problem?!"  The siren shrieks at him as he carefully collects the worm off his face and adds it to his pile.  "I found you chick food!"

"Humans don't eat WORMS!"  Jasper spits some dirt onto the ground and groans loudly.  "Humans aren't like sirens at all!"

"Oh for fucks sake-"  The siren nearly trembles with fury as he keeps the worms carefully cupped in his hands.  "This wouldn't be a fucking problem if you'd just eat something!" 

"Okay!  Okay!  Gods, if I ate something, would you leave me alone?!"

"Yes!"  

"Fine!  Fuck!"  Jasper stomps off towards the beach.  The ruffling of feathers alerts him to the siren's following as he leads them back to his shack.  The door is still open as they trudge through, Jasper sitting on his bed as the siren dumps the squirming worms onto his table.  Jasper looks between the worms and the dead fish and contemplates his choices.  The siren crosses his arms at Jasper's delayed eating.

"Well?"

Jasper stares at the fish covered in the siren's slobber.  "...Can you get me a new fish?"

"You're so damn picky."

"You can eat that one!  You already started to!"

"Fine!  Whatever!"  The siren tosses his hands up in the air as he stomps out.  "I do all this work, and for what?!"

"You can have the worms too!"  Jasper yells to the retreating figure as the siren squawks back in irritation.  With the siren gone, Jasper gets to work stoking his fireplace.  The hanging pot is removed as he considers his choices.

Boiled fish is quick and easy.  He can just descale, gut, and chop up whatever fish the siren gets him and eat that.  But...

He looks back at the slimy fish that the worms are starting to crawl all over.  Turning back to the fireplace, he thinks that maybe the texture of boiled fish might not feel so great in his mouth.  What other choices does he have?  As he looks around the fireplace, he finds a stack of sharpened sticks that the fisherman had given to him.

For roasting fish, if he recalls correctly.  He picks up a stick and turns it between his fingers idly.

It wouldn't be too much work, he thinks.  Sure, he still needs to descale and gut the fish, but after that, he can just jab the stick in and roast it.  Easier than chopping, and it won't have the potential to feel slimy.

...Yeah.  This could work.

"I'm back."  The siren stomps into the shack, thrusting a new but similar fish into Jasper's face.  "And you had better eat this one."

"I will."  He takes the fish carefully and heads to his table, grabbing a knife as he does so.

"Really?"  The siren creeps towards him in surprise as Jasper sits down.  "No more protests?"

"As long as I get to eat it normally like a human, then yes."  The brunette begins to remove the scales with his knife, scraping it methodically as the siren begins plucking the worms off and slurping them into his mouth.  As the last worm is eaten, Jasper begins to gut the fish, removing its insides as the siren sighs.

"You're wasting food."

"Then you can eat it."  A taloned hand swipes the guts up as the siren shoves the intestines into his mouth.  Jasper watches curiously as the creature actually chews.  So they do use their fangs and teeth for something.  Quietly, he jabs the stick through the head of the fish and into its stomach.  He heads over to his crackling fire with the siren trailing behind him.

"What are you doing?"  Jasper sticks the stick in front of the fire as he turns back to the siren.  The fish from before is clutched tight in the siren's hand as he brings it up to his mouth and chomps off the head.  Confusion rings loudly in Jasper's head as he tries to reason why the siren switched from swallowing the fish whole to just eating chunks of it, before shaking his head and refusing to think any further.

"I'm cooking it."

"Cooking?"

"Yeah."  He settles down on the floor and watches the fish roast.  "I'm making it edible for my chick stomach to handle."

The siren snorts as he sits down next to Jasper, loud schmacking noises included.  "You humans have such weak stomachs."

"Can't help it."

The two of them watch as the fish slowly roasts.  A nice, pleasant smell wafts through the air as Jasper's stomach growls.

...Oh.

He's.

He's hungry.

The siren sniffs and makes an interested hum.  "That smells good."

"Yeah, cooking does that."  Carefully, he reaches forward and plucks the roasted fish from the fire.  The siren leans in close to the cooked fish, raw one already devoured, and sniffs it again.

"It's hot."

"Yeah."  Jasper carefully breaks off a piece and offers it to the siren.  "You wanna try it?"

"Food is food."  Despite his blasé tone, the siren eagerly takes the offering from Jasper.  "Mmm..."  He watches as the siren's eyes brighten happily as he savors the taste.  "It's good."

"Better than raw fish?"

"I wouldn't say better," the siren sniffs, "but it is good."

"Right."  Jasper rolls his eyes and begins to eat.  Every once in a while, he offers the siren a piece, to which the siren happily accepts.  They eat together in a peaceful quiet until the bones are licked clean and Jasper finds himself feeling surprisingly full.  He blinks as he stares at the fish's skeleton.

"Well, that's one meal done."  The siren gets up and stretches, looking over Jasper with a smirk.  "Once I'm done with you, perhaps I should try this cooking thing to make your flesh taste even more superb."

Jasper shrugs as he lays down on the floor.  The siren clicks his tongue with annoyance as he nudges Jasper's head off the ground.  "Sure," he says with a shrug.  "Whatever you say."

"I'll be back later to make sure you have another fish to eat."  Jasper closes his eyes as he listens to the tap of talons against wood.  "You'd have better moved from this spot when I get back."

"No promises."  A distant huff is the only response he gets before he hears the heavy flap of wings.  All that's left is the sound of the fire crackling before him, and soft crashing of the waves behind him.

And for the first time in what feels like forever.

He feels... kind of warm.

[time-to-write-and-suffer]

I want people to imagine this: imagine being someone lonely who hasn’t gotten any attention suddenly finding VV. It’s a community were ur warmly welcomed and people treat u nicely and Mv praises u to kingdom come. Then imagine how the attention fades after time and realizing what happens if ur not active. It’s now a delicate balance you have to juggle because you’ve tasted the validation, and ur hungry for it, and u can’t be inactive because ur just a snoopy bitch looking (1/?)

For tea and gossip. God forbid u not reblog and compliment everyone of Mv masterpieces. Because that’s when the attention stops and u start to slowly realize that ur not amazing, and that u have to buy ur praise. And suddenly someone disagrees with Mv. And they’re raked through the coals. You realize that this will happen to you next. So you start following rules. Don’t become completely inactive. Make sure u always reblog something from mv. Validate her feelings so she knows you don’t (2/?)

Hate her. Never disagree with her, and never disappoint her. This is how I lived in VV and it was like walking on a beautiful crystal floor with steel toed boots. I hated every moment of it. I feel stupid too, because my silence, my validation of her feeling contributed to others feeling shitty, just to protect myself. How her praise still made me feel special even near the end when I knew how she was because Mv was a “real professional” this sucks and I’m glad she’s gone (3/3)

Oof, that’s one hell of a legacy to leave behind. I’m sorry you went through that, Nonny!

But you touched on something I’ve been itching to talk about, and it’s the sort of “reblog-for-reblog” mentality that was clearly taken to the extreme here in VV. Where they literally harassed a LITERAL CHILD for not obeying their “uwu reciprocation” rules.

This is why I’m against these organized types of feedback circles. While I do believe that for one to thrive in a creative community, one has to give back to that community in some way, whether it be interacting with others or leaving comments or sending asks, I also absolutely hate the sort of mentality that if you’re not constantly 100% replying to everything and reblogging everything and reading everything, you’re actually an asshole and don’t give back to the community and don’t deserve to see your work recognized.

Because like. When that shit veers into extreme territories, it becomes all about numbers. How many notes you have, who left those notes there, who didn’t leave notes so you know to punish them by not leaving notes on their thing.

Like. I have friends whose work or WIPs aren’t my thing. My own WIP isn’t most people’s thing. I don’t get offended at my friends when they DARE not to reblog something I made. And they don’t crawl up my ass when I don’t reblog theirs. It’s just not realistic to keep that many projects in mind, even if you wanted to.

So it becomes obvious that the people with the most notes, and the people who interact the most with others (but notably drop them like hot potatoes if that isn’t reciprocated) probably fake most of their interest in other people’s work.

I’m not saying this to be mean, I’m just saying that if you’re a grown-ass adult, with a bunch of hobbies, a spouse, and a demanding full-time job, you simply cannot have that much brainspace left for the writing projects of internet randos. So what do you do to get that recognition from them? You sprinkle your own shallow love around liberally, demand something in return, and then dump them and their work as soon as they don’t give it back.

Also, I just want to mention that people are creative in different ways. I love rambling nonsense about my WIPs and I made a blog for that purpose. People are free to interact or ignore as they see fit, because I didn’t make it to get “exposure”. I have friends whose work I look forward to but who don’t post anything about their characters or WIPs at all. Does that diminish my interest because I don’t “give back” the notes they sometimes give me? Because they don’t have anything to give notes to? Makes ya think.

It’s just a really shitty dynamic to build up that’s based on numbers instead of genuine interest. I’d rather have 5 people like my work because they like it for what it is, than 50 people who “like” my work because I liked theirs first.

[sharedheadspace]

a copy/paste of [this] twitter thread on the fawning response to abuse, found through [this] tumblr post encouraging clicking through to read the whole thing

because when i come back to this i know im not going to be in the brainspace to bother clicking through, and nobody wants to fucking read eight thousand twitter screenshots. ever

[bolding added by me, in pieces i know im going to want to look at]

I want to share what has been, in the last year or so, one of the most important things I've realized about my own trauma history — something that has been massively important for my own healing.

Let's talk about the link between people-pleasers and emotional abuse.

Confession: I am a people-pleaser. It took me a long time to realize this, though. Because I'm opinionated! And I speak my mind! I'm an "open book" about a lot of what I've been through. Clearly I don't care what people think... right?

But people-pleasing is a lot more complex than that. It's actually part of a trauma response. Most people know about fight, flight, and freeze — but another response, "fawn," is at the core of what people-pleasing is actually about.

To avoid conflict, negative emotions, and retraumatization, people who "fawn" when triggered will go out of their way to mirror someone's opinions and appease them in order to deescalate situations (or potential issues).

For me, this meant that the more invested I was in an emotional connection, the less likely I was to criticize that person, vocalize when my boundaries were crossed, express unhappiness with their behavior, or share anything that I felt might damage that relationship.

This could come across as being excessively nice and complimentary, overly-concerned with another person's happiness, and waiting for cues in conversation to determine if something was "safe" to share or disclose. People-pleasers are often considered "emotional chameleons."

People-pleasers are often really warm, encouraging, and generous people. They tend to overextend themselves and say "yes" to everything and everyone, eager to make those they care about happy and comfortable.

They often grow up in very controlling and chaotic environments, and internalized the idea that if they were perfectly good or well-behaved, they could minimize conflict and secure love and attachment. 

And. When you have this tendency to defer, make yourself subordinate, try to become smaller, ignore your boundaries and intuition, and minimize your own needs... you are profoundly vulnerable to emotional abuse.

When you are excessively concerned with pleasing others, you learn that in order to be effective at this, you have to shut down your gut instincts, your values, your emotions — bc being an individual, rather than a mirror, doesn't serve you in securing the love that you want.

People-pleasers can become drawn to abusive relationships, and repelled from relationships that are abundantly loving — because love has to feel "earned" in order to feel secure. In other words? If love is given too freely or easily, it doesn't feel safe.

This means people-pleasers can be drawn to relationships that are controlling (they feel safest when they defer to others), emotionally-withholding (they are driven by the need to "secure" affection/elated when they do), and even abusive (their lack of boundaries is exploited).

Another part of being vulnerable to abuse is that people-pleasers are so easily gaslit, because when they are inclined to suppress their own instincts, values, and beliefs, they're infinitely more likely to defer to an abuser's version of events or narrative.

This also means that "fawn" types often go through cycles of restricting emotionally (I can't be "too much" for others) & then purging emotionally ("unloading" onto a trusted person bc the expectation to be perfect gets to be too much).

(I think this is why so many of us have eating disorders — just an anecdotal observation, but I digress...)

People-pleasers (the "fawn" trauma response) isn't intended to manipulate others and it's not meant to be dishonest. Every single person presents a version of themselves to others. This merely describes how trauma informs that presentation on an often unconscious level.

The "fawn" response is driven by fear, not a hidden agenda. The "fawn" type is less about manipulation, because it's not being used to *overpower* someone. Instead, it's an excessive *relinquishing* of personal power, driven by fear and a desire for validation.

For example, someone who runs personal errands for their boss — despite it not being part of their job description — is not manipulating their boss into liking them. (It won't work anyway.) Their boss, testing those thin boundaries, is exploiting their need for approval.

In more intimate relationships, this can show up as "fawn" types gravitating towards hot/cold dynamics, where affection and love are offered unpredictably.

This is where the emotional abuse piece comes into play. You have someone who is controlling, who feels safest in relationships where they call the shots, and most loved when someone is actively seeking out their approval. Enter: The "fawn" type.

An abuser will offer validation only to keep the fawn type tethered. But they'll withdraw that it before things feel secure, to ensure that the pleaser will continue going out of their way to "fawn" — continually giving over their power and autonomy so the abuse can continue.

I'm sharing this because, holy shit, my friends, the number of traumatic relationships I've thrown myself into — professionally, personally, romantically — to get stuck in this cycle, with my self-esteem pulverized, has made my heart so heavy.

It took stepping away from a friendship that had so thoroughly gaslit and demolished me — while plummeting into the deep depths of anorexia — before I realized that chasing controlling, emotionally unavailable, even abusive people was crushing my spirit.

I'm not going to leave you hanging, though. If you're reading this and say, "Holy shit... it me. Oh god. What do I do?" I'm here. I've got some advice, some books, some resources. Hang tight. For starters, I'm going to ask you something: Which of your friends do you cancel on?

Personal experience: I had this tendency to bail on friends, partners, acquaintances, whoever, that were the most generous, warm, and emotionally-available. I avoided those relationships where love was free and easy. Because it didn't feel "earned," so I didn't feel "worthy."

Which isn't to say that everyone with this trauma response does this, BUT, we seek out the familiar. Which means many of us tend to avoid what feels unsafe. For people-pleasers, we're so used to working endlessly hard in relationships — it's disorienting when we aren't asked to.

I made a google doc (no, I seriously did) where I listed out people who were "way too nice to me." And then I asked myself, do I like this person? Do I enjoy their company? If I did, I sent them a text message and told them I wanted to commit to spending more time with them.

I was completely honest about my process with those folks, too. I said, "Listen, I get really scared when people are nice to me. You've always been SO nice to me, and I get afraid of disappointing you. But I want to change that, because I just enjoy your company so very much."

In my phone contacts, I put emojis by their names. I put strawberries next to people who were super loving. I put seedling emojis by folks who taught me things that made me think/grow. So when I saw a text from them, it reminded me that I should prioritize that message. [seedling emoji] [strawberry emoji]

And? My life completely changed... in every imaginable way.

My "strawberry emoji people" went from being acquaintances/friendly to becoming chosen family that I literally could not imagine my life without. With the help of some amazing therapy, I grew to love myself so much — because that love was being modeled for me in a healthy way.

I'm going into a partial hospitalization program for my anorexia in the next couple weeks (because I've taken it out on my body as much as I have my mind), and my strawberry people (who are now all in a group text together) have been there every step of the way.

Resources! I genuinely believe that every single person should be reading Pete Walker's book about complex trauma. "Complex PTSD: From Surviving to Thriving: A Guide and Map for Recovering from Childhood Trauma." It's really damn good. It talks about fawn types in more detail!

Most of all though, I just want to validate the hell out of you. [heart emoji] I understand the very hellish cycle that we find ourselves in when we're consumed by this idea that we need to be "exactly enough," and that, if we measure it out correctly, we'll never hurt or be hurt again.

But relationships involve putting ourselves in harm's way sometimes. What they shouldn't involve, though, is self-harm — and ultimately, that's what "fawning" does. We're harming ourselves. We're making ourselves smaller, we're self-silencing, and we're punishing ourselves.

You are allowed to have ALL the feelings. You are allowed to take up ALL the space. You're allowed to be everything that you are & then some. The right people — your people — will love you even more when they see how expansive your life becomes when you give yourself that space.

It doesn't happen overnight. It's a process! But I want you to know that it's a process you can begin at any time. It's never too late to give yourself permission to be, to show up more authentically, and to find those who will celebrate you for it. I promise you that.

[keldae]

:O more prompts! How about 4, 10, and 13?

So apparently headcanon prompts are easier for me to focus on than actually writing a one-shot especially when I have this damn AU taking up all my brainspace. XD

4: Coldest vs Most Emotional

Reanden’s probably the coldest one of the group, at least outwardly. I’m pretty sure that for everyone who’s not his kids or people he’s grown to trust over the years, he doesn’t demonstrate a lot of emotion or affection, mostly because he’s always thinking if he’ll have to kill you at some point. As for emotions… might actually be Xaja, who’s something of a little spitfire and (for a Jedi) tends to wear her heart on her sleeve. There are reasons she didn’t go down the diplomat’s path…

10: Biggest Eater vs Lightest Eater

Korin is a loud and proud believer in the Five Second Rule. He typically has something in his pocket or near his seat on his ship to nom on. He’s also the biggest sweet tooth of the bunch and thrives off sugar. Conversely, Xaja’s the one who forgets to eat sometimes often, much to her dad’s frustration (or Theron’s, or Lana’s, or Master Orgus’ when she was still with him. Orgus got used to just carrying around extra space-granola-bars and just shoving one in Xaja’s hands every so often.).

13: Most Forgiving vs Most Grudgeful

Oooooh, tough one. I feel like Xaja might be the most likely one of the bunch to forgive something, but she does not ever forget it. She got that LS V for a reason. On the flip side, Sorand makes a point of going back and finishing every loose end, especially with the people who’ve pissed him off (*cough*Harkun*cough*). He’ll carry grudges even for the people he loves. I’m not saying he once zapped Skadge for saying something untoward at Shara, buuuuut…