#creepy gift

[brooklynbutterflyarts]

The Mummy Movie Poster 1932 Customized Framing Molding:Professional 1" Flat Top Black (solid-wood) Print: Bonded & Dry-mounted Print on Foam Core. Perfectly flat and smooth finish High Resolution and Quality Full Color Poster Print The double mat adds depth giving the display a unique "looking through a window'' appearance. The poster print is bonded to foam core on a hot vacuum press. This bonding gives the print a perfect flat and smooth texture. This process also insures the print will never fold or fade with age or moisture. This wonderful display makes a thoughtful and original gift containing a classic vintage touch yet modern design, allowing it to fit alongside both modern and classic decor. BUY WITH CONFIDENCE. ALL OF MY DELICATE ITEMS ARE SHIPPED WITH A SPECIAL 3 LAYER PROTECTION SYSTEM.

[after-witch]

Ragdoll [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Title: Ragdoll [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Synopsis: Your back hurts and Mahito fixes it for you. inspired by snatches of conversation with @absolute-flaming-trash as so many Mahito things are!

Word count: 500ish

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, body modification

“Well? How does it feel?” Mahito asks, and whenever Mahito asks, you are bound to consider the answer. Whether or not you actually give it depends on the day and time and how much you’re willing to endure.

You’re… Weightless. That’s what you feel–no, no, no. That’s wrong. Not weightless. There is weight to you. You are not some candy floss being tossed in the wind by a child uncaring of the time spent crafting it, hot metal bowls and spinning sticks and carpal tunnel from too many summers on a carnival job.

You have weight, but it is thick and slimy and moveable, like a glob of remorseless slime built up in a forgotten bathroom sink. Or something heavier, filled with beans or sand or stuffing.

A doll, maybe? Oh, yes.

A doll. A ragdoll. The kind your grandparents gifted you when you were little, because it’s what they grew up with on the dusty old farm, and your parents cooed over her yarn hair and homespun look.

But you shoved her onto the decorative chair in the corner of your bedroom and never played with her because you wanted something chic and fun, a doll with brushable hair and clothes that came off. 

Now you’re stuck in that corner chair, or you would be, except Mahito wants to play with you. Likes to play with you. Likes to hold you, like he’s doing now, humming and holding out one hand so all of your weight slides to one side and the only thing keeping you upright is the grip of his fingers.

Then flopping you to the other side, and doing it again, and again. Then holding you close and down, like he’s dipping you in a dance. 

He could let you go and you’d fall, a heap, onto the floor. Would it hurt? Maybe the rest of you would.

But not your back. Not your spine. He replaced it all with gelatin or goo or slime or whatever he’d decided upon, after you’d begged and begged and begged. Chronic back pain was a bitch. Chronic back pain when you were sleeping on floors and hammocks was bitchier. 

“It hurts so much. I can’t stand it. Please, please, please.”

And he’d tickled his fingers up your back–it hurt, too–and smiled down.

“You really want me to fix you?”

And you did, and he did, and here you are now.

Weighty and weightless all the same, his pretty ragdoll. 

Only he can brush your hair and change your clothes and maybe that will keep him from shoving you into the corner and forgetting about you. 

The thought is too far back to be anything more than a gnat you’ll swat when it comes closer, though. Because your spine is jello, sure, sure, sure. But it doesn’t hurt. And you can’t strain a ligament or herniate a disc when there’s nothing there to hurt, can you? 

It doesn’t hurt, for once, and that’s enough.

Mahito drops you low, again, catching you before your head smacks against the concrete.

He smiles. 

So do you.

[mayxo-hxh]

Just had a crazy thought. So technically if Illumi saw something like a dress he thought would look GORGEOUS on hisoka but hisoka wasnt with him to try it on. cant he just shapeshift into hisoka and try it on to see. Like he knows hisoka's exact measurements and what would fit on him but just to be EXTRA sure. he has to see it with his own eyes. like right now. in the mirror.

I wonder how hisoka would feel getting a text from illumi at night and its just a photo of himself in a dress going "i like this on you"

[noxposting]

Another year, another @phandomholidaytruce ✨

Merry crisler @datawyrms ! Hope you like it!! It's also on AO3 with an extra chapter

Something's Wrong with Danny Fenton

The realization that something was seriously wrong was like falling asleep; slowly, and then all at once.

There had been no catalyst, no trigger to speak of.

Miss Jones had been sick and, this late into the school year, they hadn't bothered to provide a replacement. Most of the class hadn't even bothered showing up anyway; with finals so close, they were either asleep of studying.

Cal would have done the same, was it not for the absolute chaos at home. The twins were off school for the summer already, and they made sure to make their presence known to every single resident of the house. Usually starting at 6am. Cal didn't feel like he got to choose whether to stay home or not.

This is how he found himself here, sitting in a mostly empty classroom, gaze unfocused as he soaked in the rare moments of quiet. In front of him lay an opened biology book, as he lied to himself that he was going to use this time to revise ahead of exams. Instead, the sketch of a duck wearing sunglasses was guiltily staring at him from the page margins.

His gaze had wandered to the window, towards the school-yard of Casper High. Today was a rather rare sunny day; it was early summer, but even during the heart of the hottest season there was a never-ending, persistent chill that seemed to choke the entirety of Amity Park.

Cal, of course, knew exactly where it was coming from.

It was a little bit difficult to live around here and not know about the ghosts.

He pushed his glasses up his nose nervously. He didn't have any particular strong feelings about ghosts, really. He had gotten used to them, in a way. But, truth be told, he was not a fan of the spine-chilling coldness that seeped through everything in their presence and lingered after they were gone. The way the town seemed never to be able to escape this coldness anymore bothered him, but there was not much to do other than suck it up.

Which was why rare days like today were a pleasant, welcome surprise to the locals. He could see his classmates lounging around in the grass outside, soaking up the sunlight like starving sunflowers, and it brought a warm feeling in his chest. Cal was always more of a people watcher, standing in the side and absorbing situations rather than getting involved.

He tried to ignore the tense feeling in his spine that made the hair at the back of his neck stand.

Also, he was studying. He looked down at his book and a second duck that had joined the first and was silently judging him, this time wearing a dapper top hat and a little bow-tie.

There was no haunting chill in this classroom. Right. He didn't want to go out and miss the time to relax.

His let his gaze passively wander around the room. There were only four others in there with him, all in different states of mental non-existence. Eleanor and Sally-Anne were sat opposite each other, heads close over the desk as they gossiped, their whispers providing a subtle background noise through the quiet room. Jonathan (the one with the glasses, not the one in the football team) was focused on the book in front of him and Danny, at the back of the class, looked to have fully dissociated, eyes glazed over. Now wasn't that relatable.

Cal sighed. Suddenly the chair felt a bit stiff, his shoulders a bit tense, so he pulled his arms behind his back in a big stretch. He couldn't help the groan that left his lips as he felt his joints pop. Grabbing the back of his chair, he twisted around -first the right side, then the left- to relieve the tension.

The tension, as if to spite him, stayed.

He got up, cringing at the scraping sound his chair made as it slid back, and he could see on the edge of his vision that his movement had caught the attention of the two girls. When he didn't say anything, they returned to their conversation.

Cal went around his desk towards the window and looked outside, once again marveling at the sunshine and trying to ignore the goosebumps travelling down his arms. He did briefly debate the merits of joining the rest of the glass out in the grass once more, but the peace of the quiet classroom was too tempting for his foggy brain. Still, he didn't feel like sitting in a chair for the next forty minutes. Looking around, he spotted a few unattended markers on the teacher's desk, and paused, a thought forming in his mind.

His fingers were itching with misplaced adrenaline, and he figured what the hell.

Pointedly not allowing any awkward embarrassment to brew, he approached the desk, grabbed the black and green markers and approached the blank class whiteboard.

Cal had always liked to draw. His mom said it's because his hands can't sit still (but she liked it, really, especially when he made her custom-made mother's day cards every year). The twins had no opinion about it, until his sister got her first celebrity crush and begged him to draw the poor guy with cat ears.

No ducks with accessories this time.

She later posted it online with a humble brag about how she had 'finished it really quickly, what do you guys think' but, considering she had barely hit double digits in age, Cal had let it pass.

The validation of elementary kids was not in his radar, exactly.

He never followed any particular theme -his illustrations were usually random, without much thought. He liked letting his mind and hand take him wherever, and that often led to either randomness or, as was often the case for his bigger, more planned illustrations, a lot of inspiration from his environment.

Was it a surprise that he had produced so many drawings of ghosts?

As Cal was suddenly, once again, very aware of the subtle chill (not quite a presence, but it existed and it came from somewhere), he figured that one more addition to his ghost collection wouldn't make any difference.

Even if he wasn't used to drawing on a whiteboard, he still felt the long, controlled strokes of the marker come naturally. His preferred style was either completely colorless (which had absolutely nothing to do with his tendency to draw during class, thank you very much) or with minimal color; he knew how to manage negative space to his liking.

He had to admit, the subject he had chosen was pretty perfect for the whiteboard; all high contrast black and whites.

Getting lost in the process was easy for Cal; applying long strokes across the board and thick filling to the black outfit allowed time and tension to pass him by, almost. The hair would be tricky; making sure the black marker was used faintly enough to translate the light, luminous color was a mission, and Cal was nothing if not a perfectionist when it came to his work. All aspects to a drawing needed to come together for a good result, after all.

But for this, the most important part was the eyes.

Cal tightened his grip around the green marker. There could be only one color on this drawing, and it had to be the eyes. Sadly, a green whiteboard marker would never be quite the toxic green that he would have liked, but it was the principle that counted.

As he placed the last detail on the hair, fade enough to be as close to the bright white of the real thing, he uncapped the green marker. There was a sense of gravitas in the movement, the start of the final step to this work.

Or maybe Cal was just pretentious about it, who's to say.

"Wow, Cal, you're so good!"

The sudden voice made Cal jump and, even worse, almost draw a green line straight through the board and the almost finished drawing. He turned around to realize that everyone in the room was staring at him.

Maybe he should've thought this would happen, but he felt the heat on his cheeks rise nonetheless.

It was Sally-Anne who had spoken, turned around on her seat where she was facing Eleanor. Both were smiling. A few desks ahead, Jonathan had abandoned his reading and instead was looking at Cal with interest, head resting on his hand.  

Cal avoided all their eyes, fidgeting with the green marker instead "Um, thanks. Just a hobby, no big deal."

Sally-Anne raised her eyebrows. "Are you joking? This is amazing! It's like, the best Phantom art I've ever seen!"

Cal blushed even harder. "You're exaggerating, but thanks."

Eleanor gasped "Oh my God, no one better erase this! Quick, I need a picture!" she swiftly pulled out her phone and paused. "Hey Cal, can you like, put a signature somewhere on that? I need to take a pic."

Cal breathed out, muttering 'no problem' and obliged.

A stutter sound came from Eleanor's phone "Awesome! I'll send it to you if you want!"

Cal refused and Eleanor shrugged, sending it to Sally-Anne instead.

Soon everyone went back to what they were previously doing and Cal was happy to be ignored. Walking over to the teacher's desk to put the markers back (and maybe look for an eraser, if Eleanor and Sally-Anne didn't kill him first), he was suddenly aware of that ever-present yet so distant chill and his head snapped up towards the room.

At that moment, he locked eyes with Danny Fenton, and Cal froze.

It was impossible to pinpoint what was wrong exactly, which made things worse. Danny Fenton looked as he usually did; tired, bruised, head resting against his hand and unruly hair falling in his face. Yet there was something just wrong. His pallor was pale, unnervingly so, the bluing bruise against his cheek and graze on his lip contrasting dramatically against his skin. But his gaze was so sharp that Cal was sure that Danny could see right though his skin and into his brain.

It happened slowly, and then all at once.

Worst of all, Cal now knew where that ever so familiar chill came from, and he was almost shocked he didn't recognize it before. The aura of the dead was practically oozing off Danny Fenton.

Time felt like it was slowing down as Cal was locked in by those eyes, a shade of blue so cold it was painful and, for the first time, Cal realized that he was seeing Danny Fenton.

Cal wasn't sure how long he was trapped under that gaze. It felt like eons, but it couldn't have been more than seconds. As he felt his brain melt under the realization that something was frighteningly wrong with one of the people he knew, something happened that shocked him out of his spiraling.

Danny smiled. The faintest, most tired lift of lips, yet it was enough to transform the aura of wrong and that trapping stare, like deciding to let free an animal that was going to become dinner.

Just like that, with a movement so simple, the chill was passive again. Cal smiled back.

Feeling like he was floating, Cal went back to his desk. He took a seat as the bell rang and his classmates soon started filtering in, all of them taking a moment to show various levels of awe towards his drawing.

Throughout it all, Cal kept his head tilted and one eye, watching Danny's reaction. To anyone else, he looked like he had just woken up from a nap, groggy and unfocused. But Cal now knew better. He had realized the wrongness, and knew there was more hidden behind these icy eyes.

He didn't know what, he didn't know how. He didn't know when it had started, or why, but there was one thing Cal was sure of.

There was something very wrong with Danny Fenton.

[damaged-dollie]

Gift art for @rottika!

[dailycupofcreativitea]

More sketches around Japan~

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Rsync corrump linkdump

I'm coming to DEFCON! On Aug 9, I'm emceeing the EFF POKER TOURNAMENT (noon at the Horseshoe Poker Room), and appearing on the BRICKED AND ABANDONED panel (5PM, LVCC - L1 - HW1–11–01). On Aug 10, I'm giving a keynote called "DISENSHITTIFY OR DIE! How hackers can seize the means of computation and build a new, good internet that is hardened against our asshole bosses' insatiable horniness for enshittification" (noon, LVCC - L1 - HW1–11–01).

As per the uje, I've arrived upon a Saturday with a backlog of links that I have not managed to squeeze into the week's newsletters/blogs, so it's time for another linkdump, 22nd in an erratic series. Here's the previous 21:

https://pluralistic.net/tag/linkdump/

Let's start with some seasonal material, and by "seasonal," I of course mean Hallowe'en. Yes, August is the official start of Spooky Season, and yes, I am a monster for insisting on this, but being a monster is the point of Spooky Season (which is what differentiates Spooky Season pushers like me from the creeps who insist that you need to start prepping for Xmas in late September – they're monsters, too, but Yule Monsters are bad) (with the exception of Krampus).

I was a monster kid and now I'm a monster adult. It all started when I was bitten by a radioactive Haunted Mansion at the age of six:

https://memex.craphound.com/2012/10/22/how-a-haunted-mansion-addict-fell-in-love-with-the-greatest-ride-on-earth/

I am a sucker for all things monstrous, and so I was intrigued when I got a book of "creepy-cute" stickers in the mail from a publicist at Simon & Schuster:

https://www.simonandschuster.com/books/The-Creepy-Cute-Sticker-Book/Gaynor-Carradice/Creepy-Cute-Gift-Series/9781507222515

"Creepy-Cute" turns out to be an official designation, embraced by the illustrator GaynorCarradice, who has created several books on these lines, featuring her chibi/monster crossover creations, which do exactly what it says on the tin, by which I mean, there's some genuinely creepy stuff in the mix, along with the cute.

It's when the cute pastels rub up against the gore, skulls, eyeballs and other visceral viscera that these illustrations really kick off some heat – I've rounded up a few of my favorites here:

https://craphound.com/images/creepycute.jpg

One of the surefire signs that Spooky Season is upon us is that the (sometimes NSFW) Tumblr account Halloweenlandmotherfucker emerges from dormancy with a stream of images of vintage Hallowe'en cards (these were a thing!), photos of people in costume and other delightful visual novelties:

https://www.tumblr.com/halloweenlandmotherfucker

Monster culture isn't just for Hallowe'en, of course. The ancient and noble tradition of compiling and publishing bestiaries is alive and well, thanks to RPGs. In the beginning, there was the D&D Boxed Set, with its Monsters and Treasure booklet:

https://www.americanroads.us/DandD/ODnD_Monsters_and_Treasure.pdf

Then came the Monster Manual, the first hardcover D&D book, succeeded by the Fiend Folio, which featured Charlie Stross creations like the githzerai and slaad, Indeed, there was a whole, iconic library of hardcovers that fit perfectly in an oversized backpack that I dragged everywhere so that I could obsessively read and re-read them.

Eventually, these gave way to new hardcovers with new rules as well as new corporate owners (Wizards of the Coast, then Hasbro), culminating in the release of the Open Gaming License, an "open content" license that was a) grossly defective; b) largely irrelevant; and c) hugely controversial in 2023, when Hasbro terminated it:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/12/beg-forgiveness-ask-permission/#whats-a-copyright-exception

The Open Gaming License purported to license out game elements that weren't copyrightable (rules, tables, etc), as well as material that you could likely use under copyright exceptions like fair use:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/01/beware-gifts-dragons-how-dds-open-gaming-license-may-have-become-trap-creators

And worst of all, it was revocable, so games publishers who tooled up to publish supplements and sourcebooks based on the OGL could have the rug yanked out from under them at any time (that time turned out to be early 2023).

Hasbro's OGL rug-pull had three salutary effects:

I. It gave gamers a crash-course in what was – and wasn't – copyrightable in an RPG design;

It encouraged game developers to look beyond D&D's OGL rules and into truly open (and often superior) alternatives; and

It inflicted so much reputational harm on Hasbro that, 20 months later, they announced that they would release a new set of D&D rules under the Creative Commons Attribution Only 4.0 license:

https://www.dicebreaker.com/games/dungeons-and-dragons-5e/news/dungeons-and-dragons-2024-srd-wont-be-another-ogl-fiasco

Now, CC BY 4.0 is a real-ass license. Notably, it corrects a defect in the earlier versions of the CC licenses that gave rise to a class of predatory copyleft trolls like the odious Pixsy:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/01/24/a-bug-in-early-creative-commons-licenses-has-enabled-a-new-breed-of-superpredator/

If Hasbro follows through on their promise, the new CC materials will kick off with the 2025 release of the next edition of the Monster Manual:

https://dungeonsanddragonsfan.com/new-2024-dnd-monster-manual/

It's wild to think that tabletop RPGs are now a cutting-edge way to learn about digital policy, but on the other hand, D&D arrived in my home around the same time as my Apple ][+, which was also around the time I first heard the name Ronald Reagan (rest in piss).

The legacies of the 80s – RPGs, digital technology and Reaganomics – cast a long shadow. Last month, many of us discovered the hard way that Reaganomics – specifically, the embrace of monopolies as "efficient" – has produced a world of unimaginable brittleness. Millions of people around the world found themselves cut off from ATM cash, flights, hospital care, and many other essentials thanks to the Crowdstrike Blue Screen of Death outage. While many of the explainers have focused on how Crowdstrike fatfingered a software update that crashed all those computers, there's been a lot less commentary about how it is that one company had it in its power to do so much harm.

Writing last week for EFF's Deeplinks blog, my colleague Rory Mir tackled that (far more important) issue:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2024/07/crowdstrike-antitrust-and-digital-monoculture

Market concentration – monopoly – is the common thread wound around so many of our daily horribles. Think of the tech billionaires who threw in their lot with Trump last month. How did they get to be billionaires? Monopoly power. Remember back in 2017, that notorious photo of the tech industry meeting at the top of Trump Tower, with Peter Thiel at Trump's left hand?

https://techcrunch.com/2016/12/14/donald-trump-meets-with-tech-leaders/

People were appalled that this group of corporate leaders, who between them controlled virtually all the technology in our lives, would debase themselves by paying fealty to this buffoonish would-be dictator.

But far more consequential was the fact that you could fit everyone who controlled all of our technology around a single table. Once everyone important to an industry can fit around a single table, it's only a matter of time until they find a table to sit around, and that's when it all starts to go wrong. As the Communist firebrand Adam Smith once wrote, "People of the same trade seldom meet together, even for merriment and diversion, but the conversation ends in a conspiracy against the public, or in some contrivance to raise prices."

Enshittification starts with market concentration. This is a subject I'm going to be going very deep on next Saturday, when I give my Defcon keynote, "Disenshittify or die! How hackers can seize the means of computation and build a new, good internet that is hardened against our asshole bosses' insatiable horniness for enshittification":

https://info.defcon.org/event/?id=54861

When I give that talk – and afterwards at my book signing – I will be wearing an N95 mask, just as I did last year. Why am I wearing a mask? Two reasons: first, Long Covid is a horror. One of the best writers I know – a living legend – recently told me that their book-writing days are likely done because of Long Covid brain fog.

A new Lancet article gets deep into the science of Long Covid:

https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S014067362401136X

The principle author of the Lancet article is Oxford health professor Trish Greenhalgh, who gave an excellent lay summary in her newsletter:

https://independentsage.substack.com/p/long-covid-a-dystopian-game-of-pinball

In particular, Greenhalgh describes why some people don't get Long Covid, and some people do – and, most important, explains why the fact that you didn't get Long Covid last time doesn't mean you won't get it next time:

https://independentsage.substack.com/p/long-covid-a-dystopian-game-of-pinball

So I don't want to get covid, and so I'm gonna wear a mask. Because masks fucking work. A new study reveals just how well they work:

https://www.thelancet.com/journals/ebiom/article/PIIS2352-3964(24)00192-0/fulltext

The study shows that wearing any mask, even without knowing how to fit it well, offers substantial protection against both contracting and transmitting covid. Even better: wearing an N95 (even without paying attention to correct fit) offers "near perfect" protection against covid:

https://today.umd.edu/n95-masks-nearly-perfect-at-blocking-covid-umd-study-shows

I didn't get covid at Defcon last year, and I didn't get it at HOPE, and I didn't get it on our family vacation in July – all events where friends got sick. The difference? I wore a mask. Which works.

OK, I need to go work on my Defcon speech some more, so I'm gonna sign off, but I will leave you with just one more link, the wonderful new public domain image search tool, Public Work, which crawls and indexes the Met, the NYPL, and other sources:

https://public.work/

I rely on public domain, CC and other freely usable clip art to make the collages that accompany this newsletter/blog's stories. While I have very little talent in the visual arts, I'm getting steadily better. I mean, look at this amazing image I womped up for last week's story on Bitcoin bros' election campaign finance fraud:

https://www.flickr.com/photos/doctorow/53893519593/in/album-72177720316719208

You can see a collection of my recent collages in my Flickr gallery for them:

https://www.flickr.com/photos/doctorow/albums/72177720316719208?sd

Support me this summer on the Clarion Write-A-Thon and help raise money for the Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers' Workshop!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/08/03/smorgasbord/#creepy-cute

Image: Anne Lindblom (cropped) https://www.flickr.com/photos/kajsawarg/3600415175

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

[semechka]

fall moths (available in the store right now)

[mullet--head]

Fan art for @dangerbizz !!! I absolutely love their art a lot and it’s possessing me to embrace creepypasta once again

[sleepnoises]

went to a little concert this week where the first three bands involved varying amounts of loud electric guitar and hollering and the fourth band opened with a non-hollered ditty over acoustic strumming and the teenage boy in the front row who had been headbanging took his buddy's hand and together they executed a lovely little twirl

[brooklynbutterflyarts]

The Raven Movie Poster High Quality Framing Vincent Price, Boris Karloff, Peter Lore Molding:Professional 1" Flat Top Black (solid-wood) Print: Bonded & Dry-mounted Print on Foam Core. Perfectly flat and smooth finish High Resolution and Quality Full Color Poster Print The double mat adds depth giving the display a unique "looking through a window'' appearance. The poster print is bonded to foam core on a hot vacuum press. This bonding gives the print a perfect flat and smooth texture. This process also insures the print will never fold or fade with age or moisture. This wonderful display makes a thoughtful and original gift containing a classic vintage touch yet modern design, allowing it to fit alongside both modern and classic decor. BUY WITH CONFIDENCE. ALL OF MY DELICATE ITEMS ARE SHIPPED WITH A SPECIAL 3 LAYER PROTECTION SYSTEM.

[slime-sandwhich-nom]

Ngl gumball is the type to not fuck around when someone says anything about his gf he's very obsessed with

the tags aren't letting me tell you how gumball literally brought an entire PERSON, probably a dead one of unconscious as a SACRIFICE to a fake cult made by his own teachers and classmates (they didn't take it well)

[clariqueenzz]

Come, sleep.

; the sinner of sloth.

[click for better quality on mobile]

[trebuchet151]

This is jumping the queue bc some really cool people reblogged my last post of Corey and they escaped containment.

Updated sidestep design perpetual WIP

Sidestep days vs retribution. They're slowly reacquiring their self expression. Next book will probably be the full return of the scene/punk look

Bonus Corey sans most of their clothing to show off their tattoos under the cut. CW for healed SH scars

Yes that is Ortega's bedroom yes I half assed it. I drew this background in my car at work when it was like 110 degrees idgaf

[yerumeruii]

for @damaged-dollie

[damaged-dollie]

Gift for @eggisoup