i kept trying to draw anything, literally anything but i feel like the little package of skill i have build myself just fell and scattered across the floor, anytime i try to grab ahold of a piece of it it slips through my fingers like wet soap
on days like these i wish i had been smart enough to be anything else but a mediocre artist, but im not, im not even smart enough to be decent at the only thing i call myself to be able to do, im never going to be able to draw like i want to and i struggle to make peace with it
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Growing up in an extremely ultra religious, cult-like family was a mindfuck for multiple reasons but that doesn't stop unfortunately, even when you escape. For example, see: The overwhelming feeling of boiling hatred and shame for who you used to be.
The angry hatred for the past person I used to be, the version of myself that mindlessly parroted my family's beliefs and listened to their every command, constantly simmered under my skin and invaded my every thought. I was embarrassed of what I used to be- even as I made friends of different ethnicities and faiths, as I listened and explored new ideas and worlds that I never knew existed, as I started the first LGBTQ+ club at my school and volunteered with kids who deserved so much more- there was always a little voice in the back of my head.
"They would hate you if they knew what you were. They would hate the horrendous teachings that were seared into your mind, the things that you used to say and believe. You are nothing but a pretender."
And it is true that my beliefs were bigoted in all the worst ways. It is true that I believed truly heart-wrenching things without a second thought and judged others in such harsh and unfair ways. I told myself that there was no coming back from that, not really. There was nothing I could do to ever make up for it.
Then I remembered that the person who said those things wore velcro light up sneakers and collected finger puppets that the librarians handed out as awards for reading picture books. The person that held signs at pro-life rallies and anti-LGBTQ+ protests had a cherished sticker book and hunted minnows in the creek after school and adored their puffle on club penguin and was really into greek mythology and had skinned knees from climbing trees at recess and knew every Disney song by heart and was absolutely terrified of the dark.
That person was a child.
I was a child.
It took a really long time. Years and years of reflection and distance, but I've decided that I can't hate the past version of myself anymore. I feel pity and remorse, I feel anger- I feel so much fury and violent rage- at what my childhood was and I grieve what could- no, should- have been, but I no longer resent who I was.
I'm not ashamed.
I am so, so, so unbelievably proud of that little kid. For being brave enough to leave the comfort and safety of what I was told was right. For not being afraid to be wrong. For seeking out information and knowledge in a culture that praised ignorance. For questioning everything, relentlessly.
I am by no means a perfect person, I never have been and I never will, but I am proud of myself in every iteration that has ever existed because I know that I have never stopped trying to understand and learn and grow, and I never will.
If you have ever been in a similar situation and feel similar things, first of all: My condolences on your lost childhood. Second of all: Please be nice to that past version of yourself and recognize all the hard work they did to make you who you are today. That person was a survivor and an inspiration. They deserve nothing but love.
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viserys iii being the youngest son, second son, eldest daughter and single mother all at once. viserys who was quarantined as a young child with only his mother as company. viserys who believed the lies fed to a child about his father. viserys who could never live up to rhaegar’s example. viserys who taught daenerys about what they left behind. viserys who called her dany. viserys who raised his sister as his own. viserys who sold their mother’s crown to keep them fed. viserys who was ridiculed, who had to beg to survive, who had to protect himself and his sister from assassins while he was still a child. viserys who could never look forward, who was always looking back.
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i saw your reblog about makarov and i 100% agree im excited he’s a great villain but also dreading it all because i know for a fact people are gonna write fluffy cute fanfic for him, i’m fine with people liking the actor who’s gonna play him seen a few things julian is in and he’s really good and seems like a nice guy but like let’s leave it at that?? sorry for the rambling thoughts
Honestly, again, folks can write what they want. I'm not going to stop them, because this is fandom and we can do what we want. I personally will not read it for reasons mentioned prior.
I will confess I have considered writing for Makarov, but nowhere near a romantic context. The idea I had for him which I will probably not pursue is a very winter-soldier type affair where he manipulates the main character after they are MIA from the taskforce. He is meant to be written as manipulative and dangerous, and even after MC is freed he continues to haunt them. Romance is not involved, only emotional manipulation. It's an interesting concept, but I feel a sense of discomfort with the idea of writing it because I'm not particularly prone to dark fics. I'm thinking about maybe incorporating the idea into some Whumptober prompts, and leaving it at that
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