#and A LOT of it feels stolen from me

[threadmonster]

I think it's interesting how absolutely amazing it was to watch Yuri on Ice while it aired but then that I have not watched it since. There are just series that make such an impression on you that you don't rewatch it?

[s0fter-sin]

ghost who was chemically castrated by roba and soap who wants to help him to regain his sexual autonomy

nsfw, angst, roba, unnegotiated unsafe but consensual gun play, hopeful ending

💀🧼

ghost walks like it hangs low.

there’s a tilt to his hips and a spread in his thighs and johnny’s never been able to stop staring.

and ghost’s never asked him to.

he knows he’s seen him; he’s not exactly discreet. he swears he’s even seen him cock his hips out before to give him a better view. but he always pulls back just as they toe the line; verbal cold water on the tentative heat they almost can’t help but spark when they’re together.

it’s never a no; johnny’s not so selfish of a cunt that he’d push when he knows he isn’t welcome. it’s always a reluctance; an “i wish i could,” never in so many words. an open ended “but…” as ghost circles the reason without ever actually saying it. johnny knows it’s something personal, something more than a difference in rank could ever excuse.

so he backs off when ghost does, jokes instead of flirts and holds his breath through the agonising wait until ghost lets him in close again. waits to know if he’ll let him close again.

it’s almost anticlimactic, the end of their dance; his delicate steps and looping logic to work out why bulldozed as ghost comes out and says one random night, “i can’t fuck.”

it’s not bitter. it doesn’t grate coming out of his throat; he doesn’t spit it like it’s something to be ashamed, not twisted with insecurity as if it’s an accusation by an ex.

it’s a statement of fact.

“you can’t fuck,” johnny echoes anyway because even if it is the reason, the big why… it still doesn’t really answer anything.

“i can’t get it up,” he elaborates, this horrid blankness in his eyes like he’s reading from a script. “whatever you’re looking for, whatever you want- i can’t give it to you.”

johnny just looks at him, the chill air prickling his skin. “right,” he nods calmly. “because my interest in you starts and ends with your dick.”

that blank calm shatters. “johnny…” he warns.

“do you really think i’m that shallow?” he cuts in, curing himself for the way his voice breaks but he never thought ghost would think so low of him; that this whole time, ghost’s thought that’s the only thing he wants from him. “like i’d take you for a ride ‘n just drop you?”

“there’s a difference between not gettin’ it for one night and never gettin’ it at all,” ghost growls, turning his back on him to lean against the edge of the roof. his shoulders heave and the anger seeps from him in one long breath. “it’s not a hitch, johnny. not a performance issue or ptsd or whatever the fuck you’re thinkin’. it’s permanent. irreversible.”

irreversible.

johnny stops, cold creeping up his limbs and dousing his defensive anger. ghost is many things and when it comes to his words, chief amongst them all is deliberate. he didn’t say it’s unfixable. incurable.

irreversible.

johnny buries his selfish hurt and scuffs his boots, an unobtrusive warning of movement, and comes up beside him; just enough distance between them to catch their breaths. he leans back against the ledge and looks over the opposite side of the roof at the dark sky.

“mexico,” he murmurs. not an accusation. not even really a question but ghost collapses in on himself anyway; sinking into his crossed arms digging into the ledge.

“mexico,” he agrees just as quietly. “‘pparently, roba found it more entertaining to let me keep it but- cut the cords. more demeaning that way; cock’s gone, at least you don’t feel the urge. don’t have to look at the fuckin’ thing hang there when nothin’ fuckin’ works.

“it’s not ‘bout how i see you, johnny,” ghost promises and it’s almost apologetic. “but you like sex. eventually, you’ll want it. and i can’t give it to you. easier to just… not let it get to that point.”

johnny’s jaw flexes. everything in him wants to reject it, wants to protest that something as trivial as an orgasm is more important to him than ghost.

but he also knows words are useless here.

they stand there looking out into the gathering dark, tense silence hanging between them, and the only thing johnny knows is if he isn’t careful, he could lose the one person he cares about most.

💀🧼

ghost’s been uneasy since his abrupt confession.

he knows it was sudden, borderline cruel to dump his shit on johnny with no warning but he just couldn’t take it anymore; couldn’t take the back and forth when he knew it would never go anywhere, couldn’t take johnny’s hope when he knew he’d have to watch it twist into disgust and pity.

into disappointment.

he figures that’s the end of it; there’ll be no more flirting now, no more staring or heated looks, no more teasing him by spreading his knees out just to see the flash of hunger in his eyes. the control he felt playing with johnny knowing it was welcome, just because he could- he’ll never feel that again. not now that johnny knows the truth.

then he steps into his room to find johnny laying naked on his bed.

he’s not spread out like an offering, not throwing him some cheap sultry glance as he plays with himself. he’s not even hard; his cock limp over the cradle of his balls, his legs bent loosely together, arms under his head as if he’s settling down for the night.

ghost sighs and shuts the door behind him. “johnny…”

“i know,” johnny says and it’s gentle; not cutting him off, just getting his attention. “just… hear me out?”

there’s nothing else to say. there’s nothing johnny can say or do to fix his violated body. but ghost still crosses his arms and leans back against the door like he can anyway.

johnny pushes himself up and off the bed, closing the distance between them but still giving him enough space to breathe; to open the door behind him, to escape.

“i can never know what was taken from you,” he starts and ghost’s fingers dig into his arms. “i can never know what it means to you. and i can never get it back.”

he doesn’t break eye contact and slowly lowers himself to his knees. “but i can give you something else.”

“you?” ghost guesses flatly and as much as it warms his blood, as much as he’s imagined having johnny look up at him just like this… it’s still not enough to offset the sickening swoop in his gut when his cock doesn’t so much as twitch.

“i’m a nice bonus,” johnny purrs but his smile remains gentle. “but i’m not the main event.”

he lifts a hand and ghost readies to smack it away when he reaches for his thigh holster instead of his belt. he flicks the closing strap open and pulls his handgun, his favourite, free.

“you told me you can’t fuck,” he murmurs, popping out the clip. he taps it against the side and loads it back in with a practiced hit with the butt of his palm. “but fucking isn’t all there is.”

“johnny, what…” ghost starts just to cut himself off as johnny thumbs off the safety and loads a round into the chamber.

“you trust me?” johnny asks and it’s as loaded as the gun in his hand.

good then, that ghost knows the answer. “always have.”

johnny’s smile blooms with warmth, with pride, and it chases away any reluctance he could possibly feel. he lets him take his hands in his, wrapping them around the gun with his finger on the trigger guard. he brings the barrel up beside his temple, holding it steady before his hands fall away.

until it’s only ghost between him and a bullet.

johnny’s hands go to his belt, his movements slow enough for ghost to stop him long before he reaches his cock, forever hanging limp in his pants. but he just rubs the muzzle along his temple, almost nuzzling him with the gun as he pulls down his jeans and boxers.

he waits for johnny to take him in hand, maybe try and pantomime a handy, and his hips almost recoil at the thought.

but he doesn’t try to touch him.

instead, he takes his wrist and guides the gun to sit in front of his cock; angling it to follow the same slight curve he has then holds his hands behind his back like he’s standing at attention. he splays his knees wide, sinking deeper and ghost sucks in a harsh breath as johnny ducks under the gun; his eyes locked on his as he curls his tongue under the barrel and brings it into his mouth.

it takes every ounce of will he has to not let his hand shake around the gun as johnny gives it the slowest, messiest blowjob he’s ever seen; slowly rising higher on his knees, guiding the gun up with him as if it’s his cock hardening. his cheeks hollow as he sucks, tongue laving up the barrel and flicking out to play with the muzzle like a cockhead, moaning with every bob of his head until saliva drips off the metal and makes a mess of his chin.

ghost’s never felt so powerful as he does watching johnny hang off the end of his gun; watching his cock harden and drool between his legs without a single touch, knowing he could pull the trigger at any time and johnny would not only let him but he’d thank him.

the thought breaks him from his paralysis, drawing the gun from his lips and johnny immediately stills; rolling his wide eyes up like he’s trying to check on him. ghost pushes every ounce of heat into his gaze and cocks the gun to the side, slowly pushing it back in until johnny’s lips meet the trigger guard.

johnny whines as he fucks his mouth, thrusting his hips along with each long drag like the gun is an extension of his body; almost too rough as tears prick his eyes and his lips redden and bruise but he never asks him to stop; his cock leaking a puddle on the floor beneath him.

“you gonna cum for me, johnny?” ghost croons, holding back a groan when just his voice is enough to make him shiver. “gonna cum with my fucking gun down your throat?”

he gives a broken whimper, as close to an agreement as he can make, and ghost crowds in close. he grips the base of his mohawk, wrenching his head back until his throat is flush to the front of his thigh. johnny lets out a choked cry, eyes rolling back and he doesn’t hold back as he brutally fucks his face; feeling the bulge of his gun in his throat against his leg.

“come on, johnny; you wanna be my good little holster?” he growls and makes sure he’s watching as his finger moves from the guard to the trigger. “then take my fucking load.”

he forces the gun as deep as he can and johnny gags, his shaking body locking up as he cums untouched; painting the floor and ghost’s boot, cock twitching and pulsing hard enough to bump against his belly and leave a string of cum threading from it to his cock.

ghost watches him spasm and moan, his throat convulsing around the gun and a heated knot of satisfaction tightens in his gut; so close to the memory of an orgasm, he’s almost dizzy with it.

johnny slumps forward, his hands slipping from behind his back, and ghost quickly flicks the safety back on and drops to his knees. he slides the gun away and pulls johnny forward to collapse into his chest, taking his weight off his knees; his whole body trembling with aftershocks.

“you’re crazy, johnny,” ghost whispers, awed, and feels him smile against his chest.

“aye,” he agrees, voice raspy from his gun scraping up his throat. “how else am i supposed to prove that i mean it?”

ghost tries not to tense up; tries not to let hope sink its cruel roots into his chest. “mean it?”

johnny pulls back, his cheeks still flushed and sticky with spilled tears. “i’m yours, ghost; in any and every way you’ll have me,” he promises. “sex or no sex. this can never happen again and i’ll still never stop wanting you. it doesn’t matter to me as much as you do. you’re everythin’ to me, ghost. not your body; not what you can give me. just you.”

a knot crowds in his throat. “and you needed to deep throat my pistol to prove that?” he deflects.

and just like always, johnny lets him. “worked, didn’t it?” he winks. “you fucked my brains out.”

ghost rolls his eyes to hide the softness he knows is flooding them and helps johnny up and gets him into his shower; cleaning him of the sweat and cum and spit covering his body.

that ghost covered his body in.

his chest hitches at the reminder as he strips himself down to a single layer and all but falls into bed, tugging johnny in after him when he hesitates just slightly at the edge of the bed; splaying his still naked body over him, sated and loose.

“i really do mean it,” johnny whispers into the crook of his neck sometime later; when their breaths have settled and synced.

ghost sweeps his fingers up and down the length of his spine, skin he’s never seen. skin he now knows every inch of. “i know you do,” he whispers back.

and for once, he thinks it might be enough.

[mister13eyond]

dont normally post about drama but this seems relevant:

im seeing a lot of people jump to "james somerton was never good anyways" in retaliation for the hbomb expose, but there's a really fine line to tread there before you get into stepping on the toes of the people he stole from, you know?

some of his videos and analysis did seem genuinely intelligent, thoughtful, insightful, and well-written. yeah, it turns out those are the result of him stealing from other people. but that doesnt mean the original writers WEREN'T intelligent, thoughtful, insightful and good writers. he had plenty of garbage opinions interspersed throughout, but the reason many people (myself included) were suckered in by him is that the queer creators he stole from DID have really important and interesting analysis. the parts of his videos that were good were stolen, but by discounting his essays entirely we're throwing the baby out with the bathwater and insisting those he stole from didn't have anything important to say.

the parts he himself supplied were trash, but he stole the work of some genuinely brilliant and insightful writers and passed it off as his own- and that writing still exists and is still brilliant and insightful; we just know now who was actually responsible for it and who to thank for that work

lets just be careful when we smugly proclaim that we always hated everything he had to say- because a lot of the words we're discounting were never his to begin with, and the last thing those authors need is to have their work trash talked because it ended up in the mouth of someone dishonest

[mewkwota]

For the character ask meme:

Marvel vs Capom Megaman!

Technically that would just be Classic Mega Man, so we'll go with him!

Send Me a Character

And I will tell you my:

First impression I know who Mega Man was and that there were different ones (I just wasn't sure how or if they were necessarily connected at first, so I drew him and Hub interchangeably but confusedly). I think Rock is cute, but his design was too simple for my tastes.

Something about Smash's additional details clicked so well to me. (MM11 is still not quite there for some reason, so I don't use it.)

Impression now I've always had an interest in robot characters, and after learning more about him, I was somehow able to explore so much with that concept and just Mega Man's character in general. Unsurprisingly, working with him reminded me a lot of Astro Boy and the situations he faces with the innocent mindset of a child and the body of a robot, just not as heavy (I won't talk about the Archie Comics, I stopped following after a while for reasons).

The thing about working with child characters is that they aren't always going to act like older characters, in their words and their emotional responses. On top of that, drawing them is particular too-- their faces, the things they do with their hands, etc.

It leaves a lot to think about, but the thoughts are very welcomed. Kinda like a "put yourself in their shoes" sorta exercise.

So besides the fact that I grew to really love the Mega Man series, with its fun characters and robot designs, I really appreciate the "pureness" of Rock's character. I know he's also a hero with a strong sense of justice, but in the end he's also just a child. A robot child.

Even when compared to the other Mega Mans, Rock is the simplest, purest form of the non-human. His "humanness", while present, differs from X and his complexities despite them both being totally mechanical. Hence why I chose that word "pure".

Though Rock may appear simple, it turns out it's with much meaning. At least to me it does. I have no idea if these words make sense.

Favorite moment This is a Smash thing, but watching the lights of Mega Man's eyes during his fighter reveal is always gonna be so cool.

Idea for a story I made two (ancient) comics that touch on the uncomfortable dynamic between Rock and Dark Pit. I never really clarified it, because I'm still not sure, but Dark Pit's harsh attitude toward Rock were meant to cover for something else.

It's been so long, I don't know if I'll ever return to it. But there's definitely a lot of loose ends I've still left flying around. (Y'know... Like the one with Beck.)

Unpopular opinion I don't really like Rock's MM7/MM8-type proportions. He looks way too tall and way too lanky.

Favorite relationship *Coughs loudly in Captain N*

Favorite headcanon The little depictions that remind you Rock is originally (and still is) a helper robot are very sweet to see.

[g00seg1raffe]

So there was a post a while back about Ben Solo always being told "don't do (x), that's how uncle luke lost his hand" when he was a kid - and I raise you: Elrond and Elros being told "don't do (x), that's how Maedhros lost his hand"??

Like, at Amon Ereb when the twins were newly acquired and refusing to eat their vegetables and Maglor is Mag-mothering them until Erestor, feral half-sane clinically depressed anarchist Avari hostage/patient/infiltrator and Certified Little Shit, hits em with:

"I would listen to the Lord Maglor, winyamor, he well knows the dangers that come to young elflings who don't eat enough vegetables - after all, that's how his brother lost his hand."

Elrond looks conflicted. Elros squints suspiciously. "Truly?"

Erestor, practically comatose since the massacre but ultimately saved from Fading by the biological compulsion to fuck with you, lays a hand over his heart. "I would never lie about such a thing! Just what do you take me for? This is a true tale and a grave warning - the Lord Maedhros' hand was tragically lost in the days of his youth, whilst he was still growing as you are. He refused to eat his vegetables and so, cruelly deprived of the strength it needed to grow strong, his body started to fall apart! First his fingers, then his thumb, and then his palm and wrist - all turned blue and dropped off!"

"No!" Elrond gasps. Elros looks both terrified and impressed. Maglor's face is scrunched up into something that the twins probably interpret as pained - at reminder of the horrors of limbs falling off! - but is actually just him busting a rib trying not to laugh.

"Yes!" Erestor cries with relish. "And it never grew back. All because he didn't eat his vegetables. Isn't that right, Lord Maedhros?"

Maedhros, a looming terror at the head of the table, scarred and solemn and impenetrable as his fortresses, narrows his eyes consideringly at the unfolding shenanigans and the rascal behind it. His conclusion? Fuck it. He gives a slow, solemn nod. Completely deadpan and exaggeratedly formal, because it may have been centuries since he last had his brothers smothering laughter at political dinners but the Finwëan sense of humour, once caught, is not an ailment easily cured.

Maglor conceals his wheezes behind his goblet as Erestor nods sagely to the wide-eyed twins, who suddenly seem a sight more interested in their vegetables.

[o-uncle-newt]

I just got a bit more time in my schedule and I'm hoping to get started on a Sayers-and-Jews reading list, if anyone has any suggestions! I just really feel like I've never seen anyone talk about how WEIRD the apparent received wisdom is of "Sayers was in a relationship with a completely secular Jew who tried to convince her to have premarital sex she was religiously uncomfortable with, which NATURALLY made her start writing about Jews, but a totally different kind of basically fetishized ultra-conservative type than Cournos was." There are clearly missing links there- not an obvious or intuitive connection at all- and I have my own ideas of what they are and am so curious if it's already been written about.

[harpuiaa]

i've been dead and gone bc of school and jobsearching and everything happening all at once but ive been playing the boktai series games lately and i'm enjoying it a lot. I just got past the third boss in boktai 2. I don't know why but i'm enthralled with these games, i highly recommend them

[pilonciillo]

lol didn’t think someone giving money would give me anxiety

[randomfoggytiger]

X-Cops Theory: Tulpas, an Alternate Explanation for Ghosts and Spooks

The idea that the ghosts of loved ones could be corrupted tulpa thought forms, created merely by remembering them, is horrifying:

And, for fun: what is the Stargate Project this analogue horror video mentions? I'll let Wikipedia explain:

The Stargate Project was a secret U.S. Army unit established in 1977 at Fort Meade, Maryland, by the Defense Intelligence Agency (DIA) and SRI International (a California contractor) to investigate the potential for psychic phenomena in military and domestic intelligence applications. The project, and its precursors and sister projects, originally went by various code names – 'Gondola Wish', 'Stargate', 'Grill Flame', 'Center Lane', 'Project CF', 'Sun Streak', and 'Scanate'  – until 1991 when they were consolidated and rechristened as the "Stargate Project".

The Stargate Project's work primarily involved remote viewing, the purported ability to psychically "see" events, sites, or information from a great distance. The project was overseen until 1987 by Lt. Frederick Holmes "Skip" Atwater (born 1947), an aide and "psychic headhunter" to Maj. Gen. Albert Stubblebine, and later president of the Monroe Institute. The unit was small scale, comprising about 15 to 20 individuals, and was run out of "an old, leaky wooden barracks".

The Stargate Project was terminated and declassified in 1995 after a CIA report concluded that it was never useful in any intelligence operation. Information provided by the program was vague and included irrelevant and erroneous data, and there were suspicions of inter-judge reliability.

(**Note**: Highly recommend this podcast; but the audio peeks several times in this episode (error.) I'd recommend picking any episode from the tags I included and starting from there.)

[fatehbaz]

.

[screechingfromthevoid]

FEARNE AND DORIAN GIVING THEIR RESPECTIVE PERSONS OF INTEREST "SEE YOU LATER NOT GOODBYE" KISSES ON THE FOREHEAD INSTEAD OF KISSES KISSES WILL SHATTER ME

[miraphoenix]

Right off the bean, this is not a callout post. I'd talk to the person this is about 1-on-1, but a) he's had me blocked for 4 years, and b) it's mutual. This is me venting on my personal blog, something that he decided to vague about me doing back when I had my first blog.

With that out of the way. I'm really fucking tired of people stealing from Valenth/Revecroir, and from its creator.

Years and years ago, when they were a literal child, my bff/queer life partner--for the purpose of this post, their name is Leupai--made lizard-critters with hands on their tongues and called them leupaks. Eventually, they ended up splitting off from Subeta where they worked at the time, making an affiliated petsite called Valenth where the leupaks featured quite prominently as creatures in a fantasy-meets-steampunk world.

Unfortunately, their boss was a piece of work, and following a rather large kerfluffle involving another petsite lifting other elements of my partner's work (namely, a dragon concept and a companion concept), my partner was fired by the Subeta head boss. The leupaks were renamed into leupai, and Valenth expanded into Revecroir. This was in 2014, give or take a few months.

Through about half of the Valenth era and into the Revecroir era, Leupai was dating someone else, who went by Sixar at the time, later Kismeti, and the two had a long-distance open relationship. Kismeti also did a fair amount of site art for Valenth, and described himself as Leupai's biggest fan; when he'd met Leupai originally, his username referenced leupaks, he had a bunch of leupak characters, and a leupak sona. I met both of them in 2013-2014, right around the close of Valenth, and started chatting with them both. Leupai was more responsive, Kismeti was more reserved, but I did the best I could.

Over the years, I kept trying to reach out to Kismeti, but found that Leupai was honestly more willing to talk with me, so I did become better friends with them. Note that I was friends with Leupai, and trying to be friends with Kismeti. We chatted, we sent memes, we played World of Warcraft, I bought folks pizza across the Pacific Ocean, you know the drill.

Through this, I became really familiar with Leupai's world, at that point named Revecroir. I got to know their lore, their worldbuilding, their current projects, and the leupai creatures themselves.

The leupai were--and are!--still fat lizards with paws on their tongues, who can open portals between worlds with acid in their claws, who transfer their consciousnesses to other bodies if one is destroyed, and whose strength comes from the realm of dreams and creativity. In the early days, in lore that wasn't publicized, leupai were roaming around to find a world to live on after Valenth. This was a project that was supposed to be worked on with Kismeti, but nothing really ever came of it. Eventually, Leupai kind of moved on from that storyline to write more about Revecroir itself.

At the same time, I tried asking Kismeti about his worldbuilding, because he had characters and allegedly a world of his own, but didn't really get a lot in the way of answers. I saw a lot of Sonic fanart, I saw a lot of homestuck, I saw a lot of MLP:FiM, I saw a lot of Captain Planet. Eventually, I kind of... Gave up asking? And that's on me, but frankly, if you ask someone to share their stuff and they don't share their stuff, I figure that's the signal to stop asking.

As time went on, though, I was seeing some cracks forming in the 10-year relationship between the two, and I was helping Leupai through a lot. I watched as he yelled at my best friend for not responding to messages fast enough. I watched as he made plans with Leupai and then fucked off to do other things for hours, leaving Leupai in the lurch and worried about his physical safety. I watched as he gaslit Leupai about their ability to use a computer. On one memorable instance, when Leupai's internet was unstable while we were all playing WoW together, Leupai left the voice call to go reset the router, and Kismeti decided that it was a great time to shit-talk Leupai's intelligence to me. For a half hour straight. Until Leupai rejoined the call.

Eventually, I visited Leupai in person and watched as they were broken down to tears by Kismeti failing to respect their boundaries for literal hours, until Leupai caved to Kismeti's preferences. That was a rough night, and I remember wondering why the fuck my best friend's partner was treating them so badly.

About a month and a half after I visited Leupai, they decided to break up with Kismeti, because they'd had enough of him verbally berating them for not responding fast enough to memes sent over instant message, among so many other things. He, to put it mildly, lost his shit.

(For the record, I know what went down, because Leupai had me read the messages sent back and forth, to make sure they were grounded, and were reading things right. I've seen logs going back 10 years. His original vague accused me of not knowing what I was talking about, but boy howdy I was either there, or have read the raw logs.)

Anyway, he begged for Leupai back. Leupai gave him a chance that he fucked up within a day. Leupai said goodbye and blocked him. He then started messaging me about this on discord, clearly trying to use me as a go-between to get to Leupai.

At the time, I was going through some Complex Feelings about my own abuse by various people in my life, triggered by his behavior, so was reblogging a lot of support stuff on my original blog. I guess he decided this was vaguing about him, because he made a vaguepost accusing me of not knowing all the details (unbeknownst to him, I'd read everything) and finally blocked me.

I figured this chapter in my life was done at this point, and moved the fuck on. Made a new blog because I didn't feel like getting all his shit off my old one, moved across the country, got a new job, the whole shebang. Leupai and I entered our odd QPP/partners/bffs/???? phase, and I genuinely didn't think much about him, unless I was helping listen to Leupai talk about stuff they'd gone through with him.

Until this year. When I saw some comment of his break containment and end up on my dash, under the name "riftclaw". I had a bit of an inkling, so I broke my "don't look" rule and looked at the linked toyhouse to confirm it was really him.

Turns out, riftclaws are... Lizard creatures. Who open portals between worlds with acid in their claws. Who are looking for a new world to call their own. And who have some divine properties, that may involve body switching.

And all of Kismeti/riftclaw's old leupai characters are now riftclaws.

Oh, and he was planning to make them into a closed species. To make money off them.

Now, leupai were decently popular back in the day. I still have leupai characters, and make some periodically from time to time. There's a tag on tumblr and everything; if you're reading this, there's a decent chance you remember Vee yourself, as a fair number of my followers were there too. People still talk about Valenth from time to time. Leupai still has a folder of old fanart from back in the day with some 800 pieces of art in it. They were, by all accounts, successful until they weren't.

But the height of popularity was back when Vee was still around, in the late 2000s and early 2010s. The only new stuff in the tags is from an archive blog of old Vee assets.

Despite that, though. And I know this from messages between the pair, I know that Kismeti tore into Leupai repeatedly for "being more popular" and "having more eyes on their work". Even though "those eyes" didn't keep Leupai fed or housed, or really give them any income. Even though "those eyes" meant getting 50 notes on a tumblr post as opposed to 20. Even though "those eyes" just increased thievery and the constant pressure to be a Content Creator(tm), and were a major part of what drove Leupai off the internet entirely starting in 2018.

So imagine. Imagine for a moment. Being so hungry for clout and attention. That you steal your ex-partner's species concept that they've had since they were literally 8 years old, barely file off the serial numbers, and then make that your entire online persona four full years after your partner broke up with your ass twice for being an abusive piece of shit over a 10-year timeframe.

To borrow my own tags from this post, which got me thinking about all of this again?

#This is all to say; if you're jealous of someone else's success? Fine. Go have your emotion. But don't lift their shit.#Your emotions are valid; your actions aren't.

(Oh, and this is the smallest thing in the world, the least important piece of this? Riftclaws are already a thing from a game released in 2016 called Grim Dawn.)

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[kissingarthurclaus]

And by the way just to add some like...angst to my sea beast s/i I guess 😂 I was thinking about the research I did into old selkie folk tales and how they typically tend to go and how it applies to my s/i with Batterbie stealing her coat.

1. She did it when she was still just a child and had lost her whole family, so she probably holds that over her head by saying she's lucky to have had a place to stay and food to eat at ALL and 2. That she could have it...a LOT worse 😬

[adore-gregor]

🙄🫠

[cuteniaarts]

Behold, my latest and most enamouring new obsession:

Malina, Lady of the Chief of the Northern Water Tribe. As if Red Lotus child OCs weren’t niche enough