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/i/ - Oekaki

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You can’t help but to feel like an child when your therapist suggested you *draw* your feelings. That may have worked for Leonardo Da Vinci, or … other artists; You don’t really know that many artists. Regardless, this whole thing is fucking dumb because you’ve never *really* drawn in your life. You think this “assignment” is a waste of time to justify the steep price tag of mental health, because that’s how they *get* you. Might as well have you make some macaroni art and do some finger paints, because that’s about the level of artistry you’re at.

All these doubts clutter your mind, but ultimately you figure you’ve already spent the money so you might as well see where it goes.

>Draw a family member, and draw it in a color to represent the emotion you feel about them.
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I think you knew even before you began drawing that this is who you were going to draw.

You try to accurately represent her...
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And ... It’s what you thought, you’re not very good at this. It was such a clear and beautiful image too.

Oh well, enough dwelling on this. You tried it, and it didn’t work. Back to getting lost reading about conspiracies and shit on the internet.

Wait -- I guess you should sign your "work of art", right?

>What’s your name?
Dibbles McBlatt
Max Powers
Sukka Madikk
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Right, your name is Dibbles McBlatt, named after your great grandfather Lieutenant Colonel Dibbles McBlatt. You respect the man, but you never much liked the name, so your friends refer to you as “Dee”.

The woman you drew, that was your Aunt. You liked her, she was more of a mom to you than your mother. You don’t like to think about her but it’s a good thing you did, otherwise I wouldn’t know all this stuff because it’s not like you actually *talk* to your therapist.

You let the wind carry your memories as you take a deep sigh. Your terse responses when it comes to your aunt are a metaphorical honey for the well dressed bear rattling platitudes at a premium.

That’s why when you thought your roommate was walking into your room, you were not prepared to witness --
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>“This place is a mess,” She chastises.

You think this shouldn’t be possible. It appears as if what you drew somehow was brought to existence.

“A-Aunt Maxine?” You stammer, put off by your poorly drawn representation moving around.

>She then smiles and gently says, “Clean this place up, or I’ll put you in the ground.”

This is decidedly not something Aunt Maxine would say.

>A.) Get to cleaning.
>B.) Disobey your Aunt(?) and play some video games or something
>C.) Run away and escape your apartment.
>D.) (Write in)
Draw an Ultimate Fighting Championships robot and flee as they duke it out.
Draw big tits on her and write an incest story featuring you both.
You already appreciate the woman, why not obey the doodle version of her?
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You think about drawing more things; Some of those thoughts disgust you, some of them are vaguely violent, but all of them are thoughts.


Even though this depiction of your Aunt isn't all that accurate to how she really looks, you resign yourself to obeying her out of appreciation.

A hint of nostalgia fills you, as for a brief flicker you were transported back to the old days when you didn't always feel out of breath; Except back then your *real aunt* never creepily watched you clean your room.

>"I'm going to cook dinner!" Your Pseudo Aunt exclaims before vanishing from the door frame.

Given a moment to yourself, you ponder whether or not you've finally gone crazy. Nobody could draw something and have it come to life, and if they thought they could they’re in need of some serious HELP. You would have never suspected an assignment from a therapist of all things to push you over the edge. You chuckle softly and shake your head at the irony.

Like any other illogical emotion or thought in your life, you figure it’s best to keep this to yourself and try to ignore it. This comfortable mental wall often feels like the only thing you have control of these days, so it’s a familiar ritual.

What wasn’t familiar was the sound of your roommate’s panicked screams.

>“Do you want to stay?” She asks, “To stay for dinner with my boy and me? It’s my boy who lives here.”

You enter the living room watching in disbelief as your Pseudo Aunt has your roommate Braedon pinned against the wall, his eyes shouting ‘What the fuck’ , ‘am I dreaming’, and ‘I’m going to die’ all in unison.

”Aunt Maxine, he’s a friend!” You yell frantically.

>”Friend.” Your Pseudo Aunt eases her grip. “Do not leave, we’re having spaghetti.”

>She rhythmically shambles into the kitchen, “My boy loves spaghetti,” she says under her breath.
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Braedon lightly shuffles up to you as the two of you take cover behind the couch.

>“Did you make one of those creepy sex dolls look like your aunt?” He asks

You furrow your brow, “Dolls don’t *move*, man.”

>“Yeah you’d know.”

“What -- “

“Oh - fuck off.”

>Suddenly your Aunt looks out into the living room, ”How about you two play the video game until dinner,” A glass flies through the air and slams into the wall above your head causing both you and Braedon to flinch

“Look,” you focus Braedon’s attention “I went to a therapist today. They asked me to draw a family member, and the drawing came to life.”

>Braedon’s eyes widen, “Like doodle bob?”

“No -- it’s happening right now in real life, and not a cartoon.”

>He stops to think for a second, ”Just erase it.”

“Well the paper’s in my room --”

>”No physically, like in the episode.”

“... That’s a *cartoon*, there’s no way it’s the same.”

>Braedon shrugs, ”I don’t know, that’s what I thought too before you told me you made your own doodle aunt.”

>A) Try to make a break for your room and erase the drawing on the paper
>B) Wait for the spaghetti dinner and try to erase your aunt directly
>C) (Try to draw something else on the floor.)
>D) (Write in)
Tell your aunt that the two of you are going to wash your hands and then draw your aunts worst enemy, your wife abusing EX-uncle!

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