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demidonewithshit · 1 day ago

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For someone who claims to not want to try and defend Mothy and that the doc is about you, you sure do spend most of it yapping about how Mothy didn't know better and making excuses for them, and how you're both such a victim when you were provided a doc with screenshots of the shit she sent to minors ages ago- because you responded to those accusations against her back then and denied they were true. You saying you didn't even bother looking at them? Or were you defending a groomer even after looking at them? There were plenty of screenshots in the doc exposing Mothy that were unacceptable. If it were my online friend I would want to at least look at the claims so i could properly defend them rather than just blindly claiming its false and taking their word for it when you literally don't know this person very well because they're a stranger online you've gotten to know. That's how you end up being called a groomer too, because not only did you send 18+ content to a public minor, you also publicly supported someone that frequently sent porn to minors.

Also, why did it take you 2 years to delete that fic you wrote for a minor? Sure you apologised ages ago, but why did it take you so long to finally delete it? If you were actually sorry you would have deleted it the moment you knew the person was a minor and they weren't comfortable with it- which you knew because you apologised for it. Also, that minor has MINOR plastered all over their blog. So either you willfully ignored it or apparently just never looked at the blog of someone who's au you apparently loved so much.

And it's funny you say you and Mothy never spoke of 18+ things because it makes you uncomfortable when you literally wrote nsfw for a minor. Which is it? Clearly you were fine writing 18+ content for a minor, but talking about it with another adult was apparently uncomfortable for you.

You may never have said that minors don't deserve justice, but you realising how defending their groomer looks right? You're essentially calling them liars or saying it wasn't that bad or making excuses that Mothy shouldn't be held responsible because of x y z reason and their mental health. They were 19. That's way old enough to know better. Mental health is a reason not an excuse, and it doesn't make what Mothy did any better or more acceptable.

And boy, doesn't it say something you admit she hid the truth from you? She lied to you and you're still defending her? That says a lot about you and is also why people are rightfully calling you out for supporting grooming behaviour.

I am not a groomer

This post is in response to the terrible accusations @Alexandraisyes has made against me. Any criticism or evidence you see, that can be used to support or agree to Alex, anyone can freely say below or send me an ask, I am willing to answer and refute anything provided.

These are the three main points I want to discuss and cover in my post:

1. Evidence against Alex's accusations that I am a groomer.

2. Explaining why I am still friends with Mothy, the one everyone is calling a child groomer.

3. An announcement that I will do everything I can to take this matter to court if I am not given a satisfactory explanation and apology. The bottom line is that I demand removal of my name and any mentions of me in the doc made by Alex. Pedophilia is the worst and most terrible crime one can commit to another human being. I’ve been carelessly and thoughtlessly accused of this crime with no proof. Someone actually has the audacity to accuse me of harming another in such a disgusting way despite me being, very close, friends with people who have been sexually abused.

Here's a link to the document:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1geLNDVU5YU3PZtpbG5ZfYLHoTkMTx0ab_sh3Lqgh0P4/edit?usp=drivesdk

I got permission from Mothy to post information about them and screenshots from them. I also got permission from the other friend mentioned here but I'm not sharing their name by their request. Rest of the informations and screenshots are public.

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demidonewithshit · 4 months ago

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Friendliest reminder that if you are a dick to someone or do or support something wrong, pulling the minor card isn't the get out of jail free card you think it is. If you're old enough to try and pull the card, then you're old enough to know better and know what you did was wrong. Being a minor isn't a free pass and people really need to learn that

#minor card #drama #psa #dont be an asshole

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demidonewithshit · 5 months ago

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Take this how you will-

From a fic I’m working on >.>

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demidonewithshit · 9 months ago

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date idea: we drink wine while a dilapidated mansion crumbles around us

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demidonewithshit · 9 months ago

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Spicy kitten meets sad kitten

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demidonewithshit · 10 months ago

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Mermaid‪🔆‬🌙

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demidonewithshit · 10 months ago

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When the dust settles

You know how the AO3 tag is "I wrote this instead of sleeping"? Yeah, well, I literally went to bed and then wrote a 1.5k oneshot instead of falling asleep the other night 8'D

Set in the same continuity as my recently posted oneshot Charade, where Sun and Eclipse are forced to work together and have developed a begrudging camaraderie over it.

This is much later in the timeline where Sun and Eclipse have gone from Enemies to Friends That Are Still Enemies to I Think We're Just Friends Now. Killcode (who was not nice) had the star and was defeated, Eclipse had the star briefly but was talked out of changing things (which he didn't even really want to do by this point), everyone is tired and came back from the final showdown and passed out.

-----

He comes online to an empty room.

He's an animatronic, so there's no wait for his eyes to adjust to the darkness around him, and so it's his sluggish processor that delays recognition. Dimmed lights strung over the walls, a playhouse meant for children on the floor. The surface under his cheek and hand gives slightly when he presses on it, fabric made colorless without light.

The Daycare. He was in the Daycare, curled up on one of the couches.

A shudder runs through his frame and he curls tighter under the piece of fabric covering his body. Blankets weren't the smartest thing to toss over a robot, given the risk of overheating, yet the fabric doesn't feel like a blanket, and his internal temperature isn't in the red.

It's green– but green only meant 'not running hot', and he isn't. He feels cold.

Shaking fingers run over the edge of the cloth, trying to ground or distract himself. The fabric feels soft and slippery, like the satin of the Daycare Attendant’s ribbons. Raised edging outlines a design in some material that doesn't catch, yet has enough lift to be felt.

His cape. That's right, he'd made a cape with the star’s power. He'd been wearing it when he'd followed the Daycare Attendants home, too tired and stressed to think about anything, and he'd gone to sleep still wrapped up in it.

He's still tired and stressed, but he's not asleep anymore.

Soft static crackles in his chest, and dim golden eyes peep out into the dark room. The dark, empty room. That hadn't bothered him so much when he was asleep, but it does now that he's awake and aware. The longer he sits here curled under his cape, the more tense he becomes, until to his exhausted horror a chirp escapes him.

Like a bird trapped in a cage. Like a lost child calling for help.

Disgust wells up in his chest and he sits up, and almost immediately regrets it when something like nausea washes through him. He'd only held the star for a couple of hours at most, yet there hasn't been nearly enough time for his systems to recover from both that and the considerable strain of the ordeal preceding it. The cold settles over the disgust, smothering it, seeping into his limbs, and he shudders again, clutching the cape tightly around his shoulders.

No good. He's still too cold.

Another chirp rises in his throat, though this one he's able to swallow back down. He knows what he wants– who he wants. A habit of mutual comfort and cooperation couldn't be forgotten in only twelve hours, even if the situation was different now, and with a shaky exhale he forces himself to his feet. One hand holds the cape close at his throat, the other presses against the wall for balance as he slowly makes his way to the door at the side of the room.

He knows this is Sun's room; it isn't as if the Daycare has gone through any kind of massive renovations in the past six or so months, so this has to be Sun's room. However, when he pokes the flat disk of his head in past the doorframe, all he sees are two furry lumps curled up on the recharge pad. At the sound of the door the lumps sprout heads, then paws, and his exhausted mind only barely reacts in time to close the door before Sun's cats escape. He stares at the painted wood in fuzzy incomprehension, hearing a couple of plaintive mews and scratching before silence returns.

Another shudder persists as a faint shivering, and his gaze slowly drops to the floor. The cold knots in his chest and the base of his throat, emotions that he's too tired to sort through, only feeling their painful tug at his core. Sun… wasn't here?

No, no. Don't panic, think. This was Sun's home, he'd followed the Daycare Attendant back here. Sun had been here when he fell asleep, so if he wasn't in his room then…

Slowly he turns around, staring at the dark mouth of the tunnel across the room. Belatedly he realizes that it makes sense, that Sun would want to stay near the brother he hasn't seen in months, rather than sleep alone. It was a similar feeling as to why he was shuffling back the way he'd come, focused despite the haze settling over his mind and the cold wracking his body.

(Something must be malfunctioning. It wasn't normal for an animatronic to get cold, let alone feel like they were freezing. The cape helps, but only just.)

The tunnel presents its own challenge. Carefully, slowly, he manages to get down to his knees without disaster– but the tunnel itself is narrow, too narrow for his rays, and they knock against the curved ceiling painfully. Crawling without accidentally catching the cape is a challenge, too, one that he fails so that his hand catches and he overbalances, hitting the plastic with a muffled thud.

It doesn't exactly hurt; his right hand aches, of course, but it already ached. What's new is the ache in his shoulder and hip, and he lays where he is for several minutes, venting hard, trying to fight back the exhaustion that drags at him to just go back to sleep where he is no matter how cold and alone he might be.

"Eclipse?"

It takes him another handful of seconds to realize someone has spoken, voice suitability quiet for the late hour. He doesn't recognize it exactly, but it's proof that there's someone at the other end of the tunnel, and that's all the encouragement he needs to scramble onward, until he emerges in Moon's room.

It's even darker in here than the main room, given the lack of any windows or doors, though the walls are covered in fake stars. The converted arcade cabinet is on, and its screen adds a little light. While he sits on the floor collecting his bearings, the same quiet voice speaks up, and this time he recognizes it.

"Oh, good. For a moment we thought you had passed out," says the Computer.

He huffs quietly, drawing his cape a little tighter around his shaking shoulders. His vocalizer feels raw somehow, and it's a struggle to keep his voice between a whisper and inaudible. "Not… yet. Though the tunnel has.. never been that tempting.. before."

The Computer’s screen flickers briefly. "Why are you awake?"

"Something's malfunctioning, temperature regulation is off… don't think it's serious. Maybe." He brings a hand up to cover his face. "Just… don't want to be alone.. right now."

"...understood." His head feels like it's full of mush, but the Computer almost sounds nice. Maybe he's in worse shape than he thinks if Moon’s Computer is pitying him. "We'll run a scan while you're asleep."

"Thank you." And he means it.

It's a small mercy that Moon's bed is more of a nest of pillows on the floor rather than anything he'd have to stand up to get onto. As expected both Daycare animatronics are curled up together, colors faded by darkness so that the only way to really tell them apart was Sun's rays and Moon’s hat, and he spends a long moment just staring at them. Something pricks at him under the cold, a different kind of pain settling in his core.

He doesn't belong here. Not in this room, not in the Daycare, not in the Pizzaplex. Hell, considering he's a backup, he doesn't even really belong in this world anymore. He doesn't regret giving up the star, exactly, but the uncertainty of what he's supposed to do with himself is just as agonizing now as it was earlier.

A soft sound catches his attention, movement and bells. One of the disk-shaped heads rises out of the pillows, rays drooping with exhaustion as Sun peers around for the source of the voices. Shivering at the mouth of the tunnel with his cape around his shoulders, he's impossible to miss even in the near-darkness.

"Clip?" Sun's voice is as rough as his own. After a moment or two the Daycare Attendant holds out a hand, offering. Inviting. "C'mere."

It's a little embarrassing to literally crawl over to his counterpart but he's too tired to care. All he seeks is the warmth the other brings, the contact and comfort of not being alone. Sun turns so that he's on his back and able to hold both Moon and his counterpart close, and in the darkness Moon doesn't look as much like Killcode, so it's easier to wrap his arms around the other, burying his face in Sun’s neck.

"Feel better?" asks the quiet warble from near his head, and in response he just nods and offers a soft chirp. He's finally warm again.

Though, after a moment of thought he shifts a little, letting go long enough to grab the edge of his cape and try to drape it over the three of them. It… seemed right to share, even if Moon probably wasn't getting more than a corner.

Maybe he doesn't belong here, but there's a space carved out for him anyway.

Sleep claims him again soon after.

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demidonewithshit · 10 months ago

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Call/Response

A lil' oneshot for @bloo-the-dragon of a branch of their mer AU cos we kept talking about it in Discord and then I got brainworms OwO

----

When Eclipse wakes up, Ruin isn't on the bed.

That was… unusual, but not overly alarming. Even though Eclipse's ‘just this once’ had extended by nearly two months now, with the slender mer curling up in a nest made of stolen blankets or wriggling under the sheets almost every night, there was still the occasional exception. His current favorite jacket, claimed just before laundry day and which wouldn't be surrendered until the next laundry day, is also missing, which soothes Eclipse’s mild anxiety further. Clearly Ruin had decided to move to a different sleeping spot during the night, that was all.

Eclipse stretches, feeling cables pull and worn joints scrub, before he leans over to look off the other side of the bed. No sleeping fish here, just a pillow that had gotten knocked to the floor. The door to the closet is wide open, which leaves either the couch or the tub as options.

He hopes it's the couch this time. He's getting really tired of hanging soggy sheets out to dry.

“Rue? You get overheated or something?” Eclipse listens, a faint frown pulling at his mouth when he doesn't hear anything. No scratch of scales against the tub, nor any sleepy chirps. Standing, he heads to the bathroom, poking his head inside.

The shower curtain is pulled back, revealing the tub to be as empty of mers as the bed. There aren't even any puddles on the floor to suggest Ruin might have been here earlier, only to move when it got closer to morning.

Faint unease coils in his chest, but Eclipse tamps down on it, turning towards the living room instead. Things were fine, there was no need to panic. Maybe the fish was feeling sick or something, and that was why he was hiding.

“Ruin?” His boots thud against the worn hardwood floor. From this angle he can't see the couch, nor if anyone is on it. He crosses the threshold of the bedroom–

– and stumbles as his foot comes down on a swaying deck.

Automatically his optics adjust to the change in light levels, from a darkened room to mid-morning sun, with the added bonus of glare thrown back back by cresting waves. There’s activity around him, men with heavy coats and heavier beards lugging coils of rope and net to the ship’s edge, checking that the hauling chains were in good order. Gulls call to one another in their shrill voices, the background soundtrack for most of his life.

He was… back on the ship?

Eclipse’s ventilations hitch, and he immediately turns on his heel. He shouldn’t be on the ship, he’d left it (brilliant red flames leaping into a sky filled with smoke, the distant sound of sirens) but through the door is nothing but his pitiful little closet, too small to even be called a room.

“Well there you are!” The harsh voice pulls him out of his stupor, and he looks over to see the captain glaring at him. “Come on, Sleeping Beauty, get your tools and go check out the No. 2 winch.”

“No, I…” His head feels like it’s full of fog, smothering his thoughts under a blanket of panic, but he manages to force words through the static haze. “Wasn’t I guarding the mer?”

“Hm?”

Eclipse shakes his head, fixing the captain with his best level look and trying to keep the distress out of his voice. “The– the mer that we picked up, the one that was all– all mangled. I’m supposed to be keeping an eye on h– it?”

And the captain tilts his head in that way, scorn and impatience under heavy brows, and it sparks a nervousness in Eclipse that he hasn’t felt since he was a boot just learning what his new life would be. The device at the base of his neck weighs heavily with malicious potential.

“You flush your memory after breakfast or something?” The captain snorts, gesturing towards the stern. “We offloaded it this morning! Nearly wasn’t worth the effort of keepin’ it fed on the way back– I would have made twice as much if we’d just gone ahead and skinned it for a pair of boots!”

Offloaded…?

Eclipse isn’t listening anymore. He pushes past the human and rushes to the stern of the ship, catching himself against the railing.

Just on the horizon is a grey smudge, and something in Eclipse twists with despair when he realizes how far they are from shore. Any wild ideas about jumping ship are immediately dashed; he can’t swim, and trying to grab one of the life rafts would get him shut down before he even got it inflated.

Something rises in his throat, bitterly cold and covered in sharp edges, but it’s only when the half-static sound falls from his mouth that he recognizes the feeble cheep for what it is.

A call for help, or to locate companions.

(Where are you?)

His ventilations hitch again. It feels like his chest is crumpling in, like some uncaring god has reached out and started wadding him up like aluminium foil. He can hear the men moving around the ship, low conversation and boisterous laughter and nothing connected to him. Eclipse was a toy, a machine: on the records as barely sentient, the mockery of life constructed from metal. Of no use and no importance to anyone.

Except, maybe, a mangled little mer, who had met his assigned vigil with tolerance and curiosity. Who hadn’t yelled at him, hadn’t dismissed him as a thing just because he was made of metal and there was a hole where his past should be.

Who had heard Eclipse, and called back.

Another cheep rises in his throat.

(Where are you?)

“Hey! Shut up and get back to your station!”

The railing creaks under his grip, metal fingers leaving shallow dents in the aluminium. Conditioning has his voice faltering for a second, the habit of just enough obedience to buy him another day– but the despair is stronger. The longing is stronger.

Eclipse slams his volume to max and shrieks.

(Please, answer me.)

The echoes fade, shrill sound thrown back by countless cresting waves. Land was so, so far away, but surely something would make it the vast distance, and all he had to do was listen. Past the calls of gulls circling the ship, the slap of water against the hull, the complaints of the men behind him.

Listening for the faintest hint of a response. A whisper, a breath.

Anything to let him know he’d been heard, for once.

“I said knock that crap off!”

Heavy boots against the deck, jingling buckles and the snarl of promised punishment. Eclipse turns just in time to catch the blur of metal before something impacts his face.

Everything goes dark.

—

When Eclipse wakes up, it takes his panic-addled mind several seconds to recognize his surroundings.

The soft surface under his cheek and clenched hands is a blanket, a bed, and when he sits up he can feel the gentle tug and sway of a charging cable. Shadows gradually resolve themselves into doorways and furniture, a pile of clothes on top of a shabby dresser, his boots by the door. His roaring fans are loud in the darkness of so-late-it’s-early-morning, yet he can’t seem to get them to quiet.

Something gently touches his arm.

Still on edge, Eclipse can’t help flinching away from the contact, head whipping around to stare down at the culprit. The mer stares back up at him with wide, mismatched eyes, looking nearly as alarmed as Eclipse himself.

“Eclipse…? Are you alright?”

The British accent is still jarring to hear, even now– some hysterical part of him wants to laugh, or snap at the mer in misplaced irritation. The rest of him is struggling to form words, to figure out how to dismiss this or reassure the mer or just get him to forget about it. Everything feels brittle, like the soft blankets draped over his legs will shatter if he moves, but surely he can get himself back under control.

He can’t do it. The words won’t come. Expression crumpling in misery, he stops trying to swallow back the lump in his throat and cheeps.

(Where are you?)

And Ruin blinks, ragged frills flaring out like the rays of a tattered sun, and chirps back.

(I’m here.)

The pitch is a little flat, with a layer of complexity his own chirps lack. It still hits that hollow place inside him, covering near-constant anxiety with a soft blanket of reassurance, a cool hand on a feverish forehead. The rest of his self control breaks and Eclipse buries his face in his hands, shoulders shaking with sobs that are equal parts relief and fading fear, interspersed with pitiful cheeps.

Ruin chirps back every time. A constant stream of reassurance, an unignorable reminder that there was someone here, that they hadn’t left. That he wasn’t alone.

(I’m here. You’re safe. We’re together.)

Eventually the sobbing trails off, then stops. Eclipse spares a moment to be glad that he’s not organic, otherwise his hands and face would probably be covered in tears and snot and it would just be even more embarrassing. It’s bad enough he just broke down over a stupid nightmare, of all things. Huffing through his vents, Eclipse finally drops his hands from his face, and finds that Ruin has built a nest around him.

That’s what it looks like, anyway. The blankets have been arranged so that they more or less encircle him, with Ruin’s current favorite jacket tucked in closest to his body. The mer himself forms the outermost layer of the nest: head pillowed on his arms, body curled in such a way that his crooked tail goes all the way around behind Eclipse and comes back to nearly touch his cap thing.

“Thanks…” The gratitude just slips from him, rough and scraping like gravel. He doesn’t even know if a ‘thank you’ is the appropriate response to this kind of thing.

With how Ruin’s eyes light up, the barely visible patting of his hands against the sheets, he can guess that the mer is probably fine with it. “You’re welcome! I hoped– are you feeling better?”

He can’t help the bitter laugh, looking down at the hands that sit limply in his lap. Scratched, dented, scuffed: the marks of a life spent clawing for anything he could hold on to, and having it ripped away anyway. “Yeah… I guess? I’m not– …yeah. I’m fine.”

Out of the corner of his eye he can just barely see how Ruin’s head tilts. His voice is soft, hesitant. “Did you have a bad dream?”

Well, there was no sense in hiding it, was there? Ruin could sometimes lack what Eclipse considered common sense, or made some bizarre leaps of logic– but it didn’t take a genius to figure out why Eclipse might have gone from peaceful slumber to outright sobbing.

“Just… stupid stuff. Like being back on the boat, working for that asshole again. We were already pretty far out at sea– and it’s dumb, right? That hasn’t been my life for months now, and I made sure that it wouldn’t be ever again.”

Soft tugs on the blanket, a pair of webbed hands slowly inching their way across his legs. It’s easier to watch their progress towards his own hands than it is to look Ruin in the face and see those big, gentle eyes. Eclipse takes a deep breath, trying to keep his voice flippant and steady.

“We were out at sea, and– and I guess I chickened out or something because you weren’t… there. I’d left you in that cage on shore.” The lump is back in his throat, scraping the edges off of his words so that they emerge laced in static, barely more than a whisper. “I tried to call out, but we were too far away, I think. You didn’t answer.”

“Oh. I see.” Soft, organic fingers close over his own, covering the scratched metal with cerulean blue and buttery gold. It always took him by surprise that Ruin’s hands were so warm; all of an animatronic’s warmth was centered in their chest, with the extremities left to range from ‘room temperature’ to ‘christ that’s cold!’. The tail behind him shifts as the coil of Ruin’s body gets a little smaller, the mer doing his best to scootch closer while refusing to let go of Eclipse’s hands.

“I understand. Believe me, I do understand,” he says quietly. There is a deep sorrow behind the words, scars matching the ones that cover Ruin’s body from top to tailtip. The marks of a life spent clawing for anything to hold on to. “However…”

Organic fingers tighten their grip, a reassuringly solid presence. The mer flattens himself against the bed, trying to catch Eclipse’s downcast eyes, and he offers a small smile when the animatronic finally relents.

“However, I am here. You are here.” His smile widens, showing razor sharp teeth, and he makes a musical, trilling sound that Eclipse has no hope of reproducing. It’s soothing, a sound that doesn’t pull at his programming like the chirps do, but it makes him feel better in a way that he can’t quite nail down. He’s hearing it because Ruin is here, because they’re both here.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right, bud.” Eclipse tries a small smile himself, though he knows it's still pretty wobbly on the edges. The tattered remains of the nightmare cling to him like cobwebs, but Ruin is still holding his hands, and it’s surprisingly easy to focus on that warmth instead.

This hasn’t been taken away from him. Ruin won’t suddenly disappear into the morning mist. Eclipse has his own home and a companion that wants to be here, and stupid nightmares can’t change that.

“Come on, we might as well get up now and start the day early.” The small grin gets wider when Ruin whines dramatically, flopping over onto his side and covering his face with his tail in protest. He knows that it’s all for show, and he reaches over to pat what he can see of Ruin’s head, his other hand unplugging the charger. “I’ll make you some waffles, how’s that?”

“...fish waffles?”

“Yeah, I’ll cut ‘em into fish shapes, too.”

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