#finally crawling my way out of art block :')

[kuriusagiart]

@frattweek Blood/Bar/Trust/Spirit/Pray/Bag

Image description undercut.

[Image ID: A 4page comic work about Matt asks Frank to help him to dress up as a bloody dead body using fake blood, ending up with them making out.

The first page shows Matt holding up a bottle of fake blood to Frank. M: "Frank, here. A mission for you." F: "Fake blood?" M: "Foggy and Karen, they insist we go to the bar in costumes." (Background sound: "That's the Halloween spirit!") M: "So I need you to smear fake blood on me. I trust you know how a bloody dead body looks like." F: "...Huh." (drink the fake blood) M: "What?! Wait, it's not..." (Frank grabbing Matt's collar)

The second page is Frank kissing Matt and smearing the fake blood from his mouth on Matt's face while biting his lower lip before letting Matt go. The last panel shows Matt's kissed face with fake blood all over his cheek and chin.

On the third page, they just make out, using the blood-smearing process as an excuse. M: "...Do I look like a bloody dead man now?" F: "Hey, patient." (Pour fake blood on hand) "We are just starting." F: "I can even bring you there in a body bag, you know? Really authentic." M: "Oh, yeah? But am I gonna make it in time?" F: "You can pray, Red. Is it what you do?"

The last page is Foggy dressed up as Chucky and Karen as the head in a plate lady, saying "I am so done with you horny bastards."/End]

[pocket-vvardvark]

Do you think Ayrenn gave her this dress? 😏 They were...roommates...for some time during the Naryu pining 🤪 girl is in love with multiple people please help her. Anyways, I looked at the dress moodboard again and got ✨inspired✨

[heartfullofleeches]

femboy creep reader would def have one of those dentist teddy bears... but with real teeth that they took found

Some boys like roses, some like plies of teeth and bones left at their doorstep to use for their special art projects.

-

"I've sent you flowers, meals, my credit card information, even my medical records and samples of my blood when you asked - why won't you go out with me!"

Blocked. Didn't even send a full pint like you asked. You'll never have enough blood to finish that painting tucked away in your closet at this rate. Rolling onto your side, a knock at your window weeps away the brief flicker of tranquility you felt at ridding yourself of another parasite chasing after your tail. When will they learn that sweet gestures like those just aren't enough for a boy anymore?

Crawling out of bed, you walk over to window and take a peak outside. The thick layer of glass muffles footsteps growing fainter in the distance. Unlocking the latch, you open and lean out the window in an attempt to get a better look at them - knocking over the wrapped box left on the sill in the process.

"A gift?" It's not an entirely uncommon occurrence. You're used to them being left on your doorstep, but this was new. Long as they aren't trying to break in you can't really complain. You're tempted to throw it right out, but the wrapping paper- what a gorgeous shade of red. You pick at the tape as you walk back over to your bed, intending to salvage the paper for later use. The box pops as you peel back the final piece seeming to have none taped to the cardboard itself. You look inside. A fluffy brown bear looks back. You'd like to say they were smiling, but it would be pretty hard for them to do so with that giant hole in their mouth. A note sits on its little tummy, held in place by its tiny claws. You read aloud it to yourself.

"Have fun, pretty boy~ Got more for you on the way if you're willing to keep me around.

Much Love, your secret admirer."

The box was definitely heavier than the weight of a plush bear. Lifting your new friend out of the box, another prize awaits. You run your fingers over the eggshell colored object, trailing them downwards till you reach imperfections in its smooth surface. Sockets, nostrils, teeth. You toss the bear onto the bed and pull the second object out. A pair of pliers at the bottom of the box next to a photograph builds up the excitement fluttering in your stomach. Scooping the bear up in your arms, its jaws fall slack - a second note lodged in the back of its mouth.

"Call me. ;)"

You snuggle the bear to your chest- retrieving your phone from the nightstand.

"This is more like it. Don't worry, little guy. I'll give you all your teeth back- then we'll send whoever sent you a nice thank you message."

[akirathedramaqueen]

There's one piece of concept art that made me see the entire Apology Tour disaster in a different light.

So, we've been talking with @warblogs17282 about Stolitz and how their break-up ended up playing out in the 'Apology Tour' episode.

Why ended up? Well, there's a collection of concept art which, to my limited understanding of this craft, is one of the first steps in the production process of animation. This post by @birdy-babe includes a great chunk of it, shared by artists after the episodes aired (like storyboards, but much more stylised, showing how different some original ideas were). Long story short, one of the concept arts from the 'Apology Tour' episode suggests their quarrel was originally meant to be much harsher.

A short summary of the concept art to see what we are dealing with

In the background, you see a lot of apology postcards and silly cutesy stationery, suggesting Blitzø is in the middle of his Apology Tour.

The contact name isn't 'Stols' but 'Bird Dick,' implying their relationship is at an earlier stage, with less respect—at least on Blitzø's part.

There's a photo partially cut by the edge of the messages screen. From the signature gloves and boots, cowboy hat covering Blitzø's private parts, and visible nipples, it appears to be a nude image—replaced in later stages of development with stupid gay affirmation memes (as hard as it is to believe, I couldn't imagine there could be anything worse than the Striker horse gay jokes... well, it could, my dudes, it fucking COULD).

There are three messages, one of which is unsent:

"Stolas, cum awwwwwwn, u no u want it :)"—likely attached to the nude;

"Dude just talk to me"—desperation crawls in; he finally realises the shit has hit the fan;

"Im sowwy :("—an apology, but the text remains unsent, perhaps because it seems pointless, given that the 'Not Delivered' notifications and warning signs indicate Stolas has blocked his number.

Why do I find this fascinating, and why does it fill me with immense hope?

Because they still fucking care so much, and neither has completely closed the door on the other. By comparing the concept art to the final product, you can see how many intentional choices were made in dialogue, visuals, and behaviour to make it clear that these two idiots still want things to continue. Stolitz is meant to fucking live.

Now, if you want to see some comparisons—evidence, really—let's dive into each other's changes, focusing on what we can gather from the concept art.

Blitzø's side

Change 1—thank gods, no nudes. The gay memes are sillier and a bit lighter. Of course, they still showcase utter disrespect, a horrible prejudice against sexuality, and a poor understanding of how deeply Stolas was hurt, but I find them... less bad.

Change 2—no more 'Bird Dick.' Blitzø has actually come up with a real nickname for Stolas! Feelings are boring for you, huh, Blitzø? I can almost hear the song’s lines: "O-oh, hooked, addicted you might say, conflicted in a way…"

Change 3—Blitzø's attempts to apologize now show much more contemplation. Since Stolas hasn’t blocked him, Blitzø knows his words aren’t just being thrown into the void. Although the 'unsent' detail remains, it now carries real weight and impact.

All three changes are seen in these two GIFs.

He knows he did wrong. He knows he wants to salvage it. He might not yet know how to do it healthily, but he tries—he tries so fucking hard!

Look at the range of raw, cutting emotions as he speaks to Stolas and finally delivers his apology—probably the only one he genuinely meant. Well, maybe except for Verosika, a bit later.

It's not that it's hard for Blitzø to say 'sorry'—we've seen him do it a lot lately. He's actually quick to apologise and take responsibility, so Stolas's remark about him not feeling any remorse couldn’t be further from the truth. But the fact that he isn't running away this time—chasing after Stolas and trying his best to mend things—is drastically different from how he treated Verosika back then.

Stolas's side

Here’s the moment that struck me deep. It’s the only change, since the concept art shows Blitzø’s POV, but it’s such a significant one.

Do you think Stolas has moved on? Do you think he’s done with Blitzø? Not convinced, even when he’s literally singing about still wanting Blitzø?

Well, here’s your proof—he didn’t block Blitzø. They scrapped that.

More than that, the entire interaction emphasizes that Stolas isn’t pushing Blitzø away for good.

How do I know this? Stolas is very insistent on using phrases like 'for now,' 'right now,' and 'now' throughout his attempts to tell Blitzø off.

Here are some citations:

"I was hoping my lack of 'ha-ha's' in response to the photos you sent me would be an indicator I didn't want to talk right now."

"Seeing you right now is hard!"

"I'm tired of this! I'm uncomfortable with how you're speaking to me now!"

Why is this so important? Because he isn’t asking Blitzø to leave him forever. All he’s asking for is time.

Even while hurt, Stolas gives Blitzø plenty of chances to explain himself civilly. Look at the hopeful glances each time Blitzø shows any glimpse of genuineness.

Stolas fucking hopes Blitzø will take back all the cruel things said and brash actions done.

You know, Stolas... I've spent the entirety of this morning listening to love ballads, and that was...

For what?! You want me to be like, "Oh sorry, this entire time I assumed the worst because I was convinced a prince could never love someone like me and I've let my self-hatred stop me from apologising to anyone I could ever care about!"

You see the furrowed brows and the sad look? Stolas hopes for the best... but gets the worst because Blitzø isn’t there yet.

I’d even go so far as to say Stolas is acutely aware that Blitzø uses his brashness as a shield to protect himself. He literally sang about it in 'Just Look My Way.'

Unless it's me? And no matter what in this world I could give, it's not enough to get through these walls you've conjured up to live.

So, what gives?

Is this the behaviour of people who want to give up on a relationship they still clearly hold dear?

No. Even when they’re angry, aggressive, hurt, or drunk, they still seek understanding and forgiveness. They continue to listen and try.

They might lack the skills and may choose the wrong time, place, or words to express what truly matters...

One person, scared of being rejected so much that he unconsciously conveys this message by saying, "You don’t have to stay here with me," and carrying it throughout the whole conversation...

The other, coming to terms with his feelings, admits them, and his fears, a bit too late—when his romantic interest is too drunk to comprehend anything…

And in both cases—self-loathing, self-hatred, doubts, scars, trauma… and a lack of hope.

But there is hope. No, this is reassurance, my folks.

You know when it's hardest to stay in a relationship? When it’s hardest to come and say, "I am sorry," when it’s hardest to still love the person?

When you’re hurt. When they’ve hurt you.

And, despite that, you still come to them and still want to talk to them.

If this isn’t ironclad evidence that this is more than just a fling or a couple of fun sex dates, I don’t know what is.

And the 'Apology Tour' fucking proves it, rather than ruins it. It only strengthens the point. It’s easy to live in happiness, but it’s so hard to go through it while you’re in pain. When you see them doing that, you realise it means everything to them.

Stolitz is to live.

[thescarletnargacuga]

Okay so like I know you don’t do art but like could we have a short fic of Raceway Pomni trying to eat a burger in piece while literally everyone interrupts her?

I am slightly obsessed over your raceway au….

A/N: I have actual tears in my eyes. You're the very first person to submit an ask about Raceway! You have no idea what this means to me. A part of me was starting to think that Raceway was too boring to be engaging... Thank you

BURGER

A RACEWAY AU ONESHOT

AU by yours truly

WARNING: NONE

~~~

Pomni stood in front of the dining room table in the racer's garage. Hands in her hips she calls for the bubble chef. "Hey, could I get a burger?"

A bubble assistant wearing a chef hat appeared. "Why, yes you can!" A single beef patty materialized and plopped onto the table.

Pomni gives the bubble a deadpan glare. "I would like more than just the burger patty. Please."

"You'll have to be specific." Bubble said with a toothy smile.

"Fine. Lettuce, onion, pickle, ketchup, mustard, mayonnaise, cheese. That specific enough for you?"

The listed condiments piled onto the burger patty unceremoniously. Pomni facepalmed. "The bun, bubble. The bun."

"Well, why didn't you say-"

"JUST GiVE ME THE [%$!#] BUN!" Pomni snapped.

"Yeesh, someone's hangry."

A bun popped into existence, sandwiching the pile of burger together neatly. Pomni grumbled to herself as she took her burger towards the lounge to eat in comfort. "Annoying little- you know what you're doing. Wasting my burger time. How dare."

The door to Gummigoo's room on the second floor loft flew open, startling Pomni. She looked up to see the gummy gator covered in marker and absolutely fuming. He stormed to Jax's room and pounded the door. "I know you're in there you sugar snorting son of a glitch!"

Pomni heard a sniggering voice from the kart line behind her. "Hehe...no, I'm not."

Gummigoo heard and turned to glare over the railing and down to Jax relaxing in his kart seat. "Stop coming into my room and drawing on my face!! So you know how hard this is to remove!?"

"Uh, yeah. It's called permanent marker for a reason." Jax smirked. "Of course, if you'd rather do something else when I visit... I'm open to suggestions." He winked.

Gummigoo's face flushed and he snorted. "You think you're funny!?"

"And fabulous." Jax taunted.

"Oh my GOD would you two get a room!?" Zooble loudly complained from her favorite pinball machine in the lounge.

"Gummigoo said I could have his." Jax grinned, enjoying every second Gummigoo was flustered. He was too easy to mess with.

"YOU WISH!!" Gummigoo shouted, blushing beyond belief.

Pomni did her best to ignore the shouting and had a seat in one of the plush recliners. She opened her mouth to have a bite when she felt something crawling up her back. She jumped out of the chair and brushed herself off in a ick-ed out panic. A bead necklace looking bug, fell off to the floor. "Ugh...KINGER! I FOUND MELISSA!"

"Oh, yay!" Kinger popped up from behind the pool table. "She's been missing all morning. Thank you, Pomni." There was a smile in his eyes as he collected his favorite insect.

Pomni sat back down in a huff and tried to eat. A piece of paper blocked her mouth from touching the burger.

"Look what I drew you!" Gangle proclaimed, holding the art directly in Pomni's face.

Pomni tasted the crayon and spluttered. "Bleh- um...thanks." It was a rather nice drawing of her. She took it and gave Gangle a small smile. Gangle skipped away happily over to Zooble to watch them play pinball.

Pomni looked both ways and behind her to see if anyone else was going to interrupt her meal. Satisfied that everyone else in the garage was busy doing something else, she went in for a bite.

"Pomni!" Ragatha called as she rushed over.

Pomni squeezed her burger so tight, it almost fell apart. "What??"

"I have such an exciting thing to tell you! Caine confirmed that Loo will be integrated into every track from today onward because he saw how happy she made me!! Caine is finally taking a hint, ha! Things are actually improving around here!" Ragatha stomped her feet excitedly.

"That's great." Pomni said flatly. It was not burger-interruption worthy news.

"Isn't it!?" Ragatha giddily continued, oblivious to Pomni's silent annoyance. "I could see Loo every day!"

"No one cares about your candy flavored girlfriend, dollface!" Jax heckled.

"Like you're one to talk!" Ragatha snapped back.

"It's not like that, it's just hilarious how angry he gets." Jax looked away.

"I highly doubt that! You tick people off all the time, but he's the only one you openly flirt with and then call it teasing to cover your tracks." Ragatha put her hands on her hips with a satisfied smirk as she watched Jax's face flush a bit.

"Watch it , rags! Or you'll find Carl on your pillow tonight!" Jax growled.

"YOU PUT THAT CENTIPEDE ANYWHERE NEAR ME, I SWEAR-!"

Pomni shot up out of her seat and stormed out of the garage. Enough of this. Enough of everyone. She wants to eat her goddamn burger in peace. She crossed the lawn to the default track. It was a quiet, breezy day. Very peaceful. Artificial wind blew through the grassy indefinite hills, creating shiny waves of green.

She crosses the track to the empty audience stands and throws herself into the first available open seat. Pomni was alone, just her and the refreshing digital day outside. She took a calming breath and went to eat.

"Hello, my dear!" Caine popped into existence next to her.

"AAH-!! WHAT-!?" Pomni tossed her burger. It splattered on the ground in front of the stands.

"Nice day for an outdoor lunch?" Caine raised a brow, confused as to why she just threw her food.

"I wouldn't know." Pomni said, defeated.

"I'm glad you're not busy, because there's something I've been wanting to ask-"

"Race me." Pomni needed to get her frustration out somehow. The track was calling to her raging spirit.

"What?" Caine gasped.

"You heard me. Everyone wants to talk to me so bad, to the point that I literally lose my lunch! You know what, you want my attention? Earn it."

Her intense look gave Caine chills. She was always beautiful to him, but especially when she was fired up. He snapped his fingers and their karts appeared at the start line of the track. "After you."

Pomni marches from her seat to her kart. Caine flew over, his kart starting on its own when he took his seat. The start line comes alive, lighting up with colorful displays. Engines rev as Bubble appears to do the honors of the start lights. "Racers ready?"

Caine and Pomni look at each other with determined smirks and nod.

Bubble stuck out their tongue, the starting light hanging from it.

First light...

Pomni gripped the steering wheel tight.

Second light...

Another rev for good measure, the roar of the engine exciting her.

Third light...

She catches Caine's glance again at the last second and kisses at him.

GREEN!!

Caine is completely caught off guard and bungles his start. Pomni takes off laughing. He shifts gears with a grin. "God, I love her." He puts the pedal to the floor, his tires scream and golden flames fly out of the tailpipes as he rockets after her.

[herobrilne]

danny posts sims 2 art. real?

i played house of ashes recently and, my god, do i have brainrot. so ummm strangetown house of ashes au 🚨🚨🚨🐛 might crawl out of writing block hell to write something for this

very rough and lenghty summary below cut lol

after sim nation fell into war with the planet sixam, everything fell into disarray.

the grunt family has fled strangetown to join the forces in pleasantview and the once quaint desert town becomes a hub for sixam's own military. sixam recruits the willing townspeople to fight for both planets as to restore their peace.

before strangetown knows it, general buzz grunt returns with his own team to scope where the enemy might be storing their weapons, with sixam's technology being way ahead of earth's it would equal their forces and maybe grant them victory.

he finally confirms the weapons to be stored at an abandoned military base just at the edge of the town and hidden between the mountains. but once they close in on the place, it becomes very clear that this base hasn't seen a living being in millenia and they are ambushed by strangetown's military.

when they're about to surrender, surrounded by the enemy, the ground swallows them all whole, vines wrap around them and they're pulled through layers of sand until they're let go and fall into the world, thats stranger-than-strangetown, below and are forced to face an ancient evil.

team's get split and old friends and enemies reunited. will the two opposing sides decide to work together? or is the war's divide too great?

who knows, they might even meet a familiar face below the sands.

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Vampire Captures Vampire Hunter to Use as Bloodbag part 35

Warnings: weak human pet, vampire carewhumper, recovery whump, intimidation

This series is finally BACK! (mostly because I hit a motivation block with Villain's Coffee Shop Oops 😅)

But if he wanted to survive, he had to appease his captor, so he stayed quiet and kept his bitter thoughts to himself, closing his eyes and drifting off.

-------------------------------------------------------

The next morning after breakfast Alex presented him with a large box, dropping it ungracefully on the bed next to him. “Courtesy of Anisa,” he announced.

Mallory raised a quizzical eyebrow, but opened it to find several giant cases stuffed full of blueberries. He felt stupid for how excited and grateful he was over such a simple gift.

"You kept your word," he noted aloud.

Alex crossed his arms over his chest. "One thing about me, hunter, is that I rarely lie, if ever."

"I'm beginning to see that," Mallory mumbled to himself.

"Just don't make a mess, or I'll take them away," Alex warned, then left him alone to enjoy himself.

Mallory eagerly ripped open the first cardboard case he saw and was taken aback to find a folded piece of paper resting atop the packaged berries. He cautiously took it in his hands, gently unfolding it. He wasn't sure what he expected, but it certainly wasn't this.

It was a note, handwritten in elegant cursive writing so beautiful it could be framed and called ‘art’.

Dear hunter:

Hope Alex is treating you better now. Him asking me about blueberries seems like a good start, at least it means he's putting in some effort now to your care, with my guidance. I have given him many suggestions on how to improve your current living situation.

He's terribly lonely and a grouchy prick at times, but I think eventually you'll find a way to live together peacefully. Be patient with him, he’s lived through a lot that’s altered his perspective on the value of life. It will take time for him to come out of his guarded shell.

If you ever need anything, tell Alex to pass the message on to me, and I'll see what I can do to help.

—Written with great sympathy,

Anisa Winters

Mallory couldn't help the small smile that cracked his lips. At least someone cared about his well-being – even if Anisa was another vampire.

He gorged himself on blueberries like they were candy until his stomach felt like it would burst and he couldn't fit any more. They tasted heavenly, his small slice of joy amidst all the misery.

Once he was satisfied and full, he set the remaining cases on the floor next to the bed, cleaning himself up in the bathroom before crawling back under the plush covers to rest. If only every day could be like this.

But… maybe they could be, if he stopped fighting it.

Mallory wrinkled his nose at the thought, scolding himself that the notion had even crossed his mind in the first place. He’d sworn to himself to be defiant and go down fighting no matter what, and yet… giving in kept sounding more and more appealing the longer he dwelled on it. And that terrified him more than anything – that he might lose his mind to delirium and madness, that he might get used to being trapped here as a vampire’s pet. That he might stop wanting to escape in some twisted way.

Mallory shivered uneasily, pulling the covers up over his head as though the simple act would fight off all the voices warring in his head, the vampire hunter inside him yelling at him to fight, while his logical side knew there was no point. Alex was a vampire. Which meant he would always win, so long as Mallory was weaponless.

And even when I had a weapon, look where it got me, Mallory thought to himself, remembering how he'd stabbed his captor in the chest. It had only made his situation a hundred times worse. He couldn’t go through that again. The phantom pain was still vivid and sharp, a pointed reminder of the harsh consequences of disobedience.

But he couldn't just accept his new life as a walking food source! A life like that was no life at all.

But there's nothing I can do to save myself, he admitted grimly, and it hurt to even acknowledge that cold truth. Even if I escape the mansion, I have no way of finding my way home. I'm lost out here where no one will ever find me...

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @togzy @floral-comet-whump

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222 @nevermore-ramblings @mj-or-say10

[nebulagooms]

Crawls out of the depths of my art block.

Great it’s otters- HEAR ME OUT-!

So. Been having that Apex Polarity brain rot and as an otter enthusiast- Must make Y/n into a Sea Otter!! Here’s a design I’ve been working on all day today for the silly. Picture two is an alternative colour pallet I was going to for but my friends preferred to stick with the actual colours of a sea otter. I’ve had this idea for a while but I’ve had the time and motivation today to finally produce a silly reference. Also thank you to my friend @/velbsy for the idea of giving them a necklace and accessories on their tail!

I could honestly ramble on forever about what I’ve done for this stupid little sea otter Y/n, but here’s a few ideas from what I shared with my friends!

‘Also- Now this is apart of their design, when Eclipse gifts them with rocks and shells they attach them to their collection using the kelp around them hehehehee. And maybe they even make him one lil necklace 🙏 They get like kelp to use as the string and attach the rock/shell whatever onto it and give it to him. And Eclipse is just thinking this is them courting him back.’

‘Y/n has also tried making Eclipse ‘raft’ with them. When sea otters do the lil hold paws thing- Yes that. Big orca man with their smaller Sea otter significant other floating on the waters surface and holding hands. Ohhh how romantic’

‘And suppose a bonus to having an orca as your partner is- Guaranteed protection! No other pesky orcas are going to try eat you now if they ever dare show up! And- No one other otter will try and steal food from Y/n again! Though this would kinda make them outcasted from their own species, since they’re afraid of getting hurt by the orca man. But hey- Protection..?’

‘Sea Otters have the densest fur of any mammal and it’s quite a pain to groom. I can imagine if Orca Eclipse wanted to help Y/n with their fur he’d probably give up half way because of how many layers there are. But suppose he would enjoy feeling their fur, it can be super soft!’

That’s it for now because I would probably drive people insane if I rambled on. But just Somethin silly. I will draw the orca man himself with them but I’m quite drained from this drawing today, maybe some point else when I’m not busy.

Please read Apex Polarity by naffeclipse. It’s literally one of my favourite fanfics I’ve read 🙏

[imsoquarky]

Some Lazy Mixtape

CONTENT WARNINGS:

Vomit

Suggestive Implications

♠️ - ♣️ - ♥️ - ♦️ Uncensored below the cut! ♠️ - ♣️ - ♥️ - ♦️

Please ignore that Porty doesn't have the glasses, perspective is hard and I'm crawling my way out of art block like a goddamn creature

Couch Crasher (Again, written by the god of spicynoodles fics himself, @pittdpeaches) was great, I laughed at a lot of bits and honestly it's kinda nice to read fanfics with some mature content or implications. Been an adult for 2 years now and still convincing myself that it's okay to enjoy that kind of content TwT

Red Son being dense and any version of MK being a flirtatious fiend is my favorite genre, I would like more plz.

Anyways, I shall have some polished & non-memey lmk work at some point, but rn I'm still kinda burnt out from finals. The shut-down day I took helped, it helped a lot, but yeah.

Go read Couch Crasher, if you're 18+

♠️ - ♣️ - ♥️ - ♦️

BLOG MASTERPOST

[justgracedrawsart]

I’ve managed to crawl my way out of art block and finally have the motivation and inspiration to work on my original projects again.

I have some pretty cool projects in the works such as my final college project, rebooting my webcomic and developing my main oc’s and their story. But idk if anyone would be interested because I’ve just posted fanart here so far.

Anywho whining over, here are some sketches and art if you liked the last drawings I posted.

The main plot of this idea is sapphic vampire hunters but with some subversions of the supernatural vampire genre and themes around love and motifs of flowers and instruments which should hopefully be pretty fun.

My original projects do link with my last posts by a common theme. That theme is infact sapphicness.

[glitchinginthegarden]

Thank you for the tag @dreamskug! (last week but y'know...)

I have a little bit of everything I could share, I suppose.

I've been crawling my way out of both art and writer's block over the last couple of weeks. It's been rough but I'm getting back into the swing of things and feeling a bit more normal this week.

As far as VP goes, I've finally FINALLY gotten into the meat of properly using Reshade's DOF w/ IGCS and Otis and goddamn is it a weight off my mind. I've been so frustrated figuring this out.

Not the best, but it's a test shot...could use some fine tuning to get Vaye more in focus but now I know how to do that at least.

Prior to this morning, I was still using a combo of vanilla DOF, another lesser DOF filter, or doing it by hand (yes, I do mean importing into CSP and blurring the background myself).

In the art department, everything is WIPs right now. Mostly just sketches. It's been a minute since I've truly finished anything lol oops. (And all I have to share are Gil's tits, go figure. ft. @netripper's gal, Vic 💖)

In writing land I have updates coming along for a few fics, plus a one shot that's been haunting me (/pos).

Here's a bit from the pirates fic (All That Glitters), because I haven't talked about that one in a hot minute and I love it dearly.

aaaaaand I'll toss in a snippet from the next chapter of Vaye's canon fic too. This one's coming from our favorite tapeworm's POV.

I don't have the spoons to tag anyone right now, but if you see this and you've been itching to share WIPs, use me as an excuse!

Have a wonderful week, chooms!

[sirowsky-stories]

Rocky Roads

Right, well this is one of two short stories I wrote the week after Halloween, obviously intending to post them around that time, only the post office in my brain lost the dang memo, so here we are.

Description: This is not a Pedro character story, just a little horror story about a woman who finds a strange rock. It's pretty much the classic "Thing" sort of vibe, just less gooey.

Warnings: This is a mini alien horror story, so you know, expect the usual horrific things.

Word Count: 925 Author's Masterlist Divider by @saradika-graphics

   It looked no different than every other amethyst she’d ever picked up, except that it was unusually big. The cave system was just half a mile from her little cabin at the edge of the desert where she usually worked, turning seemingly dull rocks into pieces of art.    But this one proved to be a challenge, which should probably have been a clue, since her equipment had never struggled to simply split a rock open before.

   Nevertheless, the stubbornness of the thing only managed to make her redouble her efforts, but when all else had failed, she finally decided to simply crush it with her hydraulic press. It wouldn’t earn her as much if she had to sell it in smaller pieces or turn them into jewellery, but at that point, she’d settle for anything.    Happily, the press worked.

   But her joy was short-lived when the first crack resulted in the entire room being flooded with bright blue light, so intense that even though she closed her eyes, it still stung them to the point where she turned away and put her hands over her face.    The press ground to a halt a moment later, automatically rising to its starting position, and then everything went quiet and still.

   She opened her eyes while still facing away from it, just in case, but since the room was only normally lit by then, she spun around to find out what had happened, only to instantly regret it.    Because between the two metal disks of the press, something was moving, trying to get out of the cracked stone.

   She stood frozen to the spot while she watched as something which had to be alien, or if not, then at least previously undiscovered, crawled out of the press and disappeared behind it. And although she didn’t get a good look at it, she could see that it was black, and not even like a raven’s feathers or a block of coal. No, it was as dark as Vantablack, the blackest black in the world, and she counted at least eight legs.

   One minute later, she was in her jeep and leaving the driveway, driving way too fast on the narrow gravel road under the moonless night sky, hoping that by the time she decided to go back out there, the thing would’ve left on its own.    She turned onto the interstate ten minutes later, gunned the engine as the tires finally had some good grip, and reached for her purse, which she’d thrown into the front passenger seat before setting off, to grab her phone.

   The purse was leather, so she was expecting the familiar smoothness of the material to greet her fingers, when instead, something dry and texturally similar to really fine flour except in a fixed shape, met her touch.    Unwilling to even entertain the possibility that the fucking thing had followed her into the car, she convinced herself that she’d imagined it and turned her head to look at the seat.

   The moment her eyes landed on it, registering that it was about the size of a corgi and that there were no eyes looking back at her, the thing suddenly moved, heading across the center console and directly towards her.    Panic set in like an instant fever, removing all thoughts of vehicle safety and every danger associated with uncontrolled driving, as she let go of the steering wheel and started trying to punch the thing away from herself, waving so manically that she managed to hit the wheel several times, sending the car off the road at a hundred miles an hour.

   It wasn’t long before another driver noticed that there was something in the ditch, over a hundred yards from the road, with a trail of broken plastic and pieces of metal littering the chaotic scene, so he decided to investigate, stopping his car so that the headlights were aimed directly at the wreck.    The jeep had rolled but it had landed upright, so when he reached the driver’s side, he could see the woman in the front seat.

   She was quite clearly dead, but he had to make sure, so he reached through the broken window to try and find the pulse point on her neck.    But the moment his hand passed into the car, something crawled up from the inside of the driver’s door, and then continued up his arm.    Waving and thrashing to try and get rid of whatever it was yielded no result, and in no time at all, it was crawling onto the back of his head, spreading its legs around the sides and over his face, and even though he tried to pull it off, he couldn’t seem to get a grip on the fucking thing.

   Screaming, since there was nothing else he could do, the last thing he felt was how something warm and slightly moist seemed to connect to his brain, inside of his skull, although he felt no pain, and then everything just sort of... seized.    Everything he was, his memories, his thoughts, it all just stopped and vanished, leaving him an empty shell, prepared to be filled with something new.

   From his car still on the hard shoulder of the interstate, the man’s five-year old daughter watched as her father climbed back into the car. And even though he looked exactly the same, she knew it wasn’t him.    Eons of evolution told her so.    But before she could do anything, the unknown man put the car in motion, and she was trapped.

THE END

[sidecharactersdomatter]

Thoughts I had during TGCF S2 Ep 9

Previously on TGCF…

-There goes everyone, ghost and human

-Even Baby Guzi!

-That smooth transition shifting from San Lang to Hua Cheng

-I’ll give one plus on Qi Rong, his eyeliner’s decent and also his long braid

-He is pissed

-Hua Cheng’s a master of stealth and the bad cop!

-And XL’s the Good cop to HC’s Bad cop!

-Spoilers If you read Book 2, you’ll fully know why Hua Cheng is enraged at Qi Rong

-QR’s hackin up a lung there

-Just like qi blocking!

-Qi Rong’s crawling like a tide pool crab

-He paralyzed and muted XL!

-Oh you know well what you did to HC all those years ago (spoilers)

-Another face plant!

-That eye glow!

-Dude you mean scrolls, Ling Wen’s office has plenty

-Qianqiu killed him!

-The bu dao weng jumped out!

-He is hoppin up and down!

-Xie Lian’s still frozen!

-Qianqiu’s back!

-His friend!

-Qi Rong’s confessing!

-Qianqiu controlled his anger and roasted the S outta QR

-There’s the reason

-He shook his head

-Gross, Qi Rong’s kissing sound

-Qi Rong has an alibi

-Preceptor Fang Xin mention

-There’s the truth and the nail’s been hit again!

-That was the fate of Fang Xin?!

-He still can’t move!

-It took Qi Rong that freaking long to notice who’s behind Tai Hua???

-HC unfroze and unmuted him

-I’ll take that advice

-He knows him!

-Xie Lian confessed!

-It took QR that long to realize who XL actually was???

-Another flawless transformation!

-And now XL roasted his cousin

-QR finally realized!

-QR’s apology wasn’t sincere at all

-QR’s a real piece of work

-Thank you Hua Cheng

-He’s gonna make a hole in the ground

-Xie Lian deemed his own cousin worthless 2024

-You gotta love Bad Cop Good Cop! Hualian

-Touchstarved Hua Cheng!!! Season 2!!!

-He’s not pretending at all

-He’s laughing like a jackal

-His reputation’s already ruined man

-Roast!  Him!  Good!

-Hey I worship this guy and he’s been an inspiration to my own art!

-Not exactly man

-I wonder why

-“Did you blind him with your ‘holy light’ or was it some other ‘holy’ part of you?” Yep, there it is, that’s another slipped in innuendo

-That slap had the energy of what happened in a previous award show (i forgot which one on purpose)

-That slap just surprised Hua Cheng in a good way!

-Right in front of the statue again

-Yeah you totally deserved that slap man

-I mean, living in a cave 800 years would totally cause someone to go nuts

-Now he’s asking Hua Cheng’s question

-Don’t even picture Qi Rong doing an autopsy, just don’t

-There’s Qi Rong’s alibi

-Gross

-That slow jingling

-He reached for his sword

-They didn’t even perform a lie detection test

-3 swords have crossed!

-The truth’s still coming out

-Yong’An in the past

-Hi Mengyou!

-Dragon Dance!!!

-Mengyou’s still concerned!

-The Hualian masks!

-Oh no!  The most common crime you’ll see in any setting!  A purse snatching!

-He was still selfless

-Qianqiu was fast!

-Oh no the acrobat!

-Not the fine china!

-His kick was higher than my current GPA, if I even know the score, and this calls back to TGCF S1 Ep 3

-That sounded like Female Qingxuan

-The Naruto run!

-Ooh cool weaving, music and face painting 

-And those men were just calm while playing Go!

-He’s on the rooftops!

-Fang Xian’s teachings!

-The sword throw!  If only Sokka could’ve learned that in Book 3

-He used the prejudice to try covering his tracks

-No not his walking stick!

-This elderly man should’ve been a member of the White Lotus

-I like to imagine Iroh was great friends with the Elderly Yong’An man

-If only people came together like this in the present…

-That came full circle!

-Man, I wish I’d get to celebrate like that every Lunar New Year

-Fang Xin smiled

-Xianle and Yong’An were once in harmony…

-He mentioned the Common people!

-It’s the same scene from S2 Ep 7

-And he never forgot

-Thank you Mengyou

-Best day trip ever

-Oh no Qi Rong’s in Yong’An

-That’s An Le and with the same crazed expression

9 down 3 to go!

The Scrap Immortal and the Avatar will official start in 2025!

[lorichu]

Just Like the Ones I Used to Know

This is my part of a holiday gift exchange @gtypewriter and I did where we chose one of each other's stories and then selected a Christmas song to use as inspiration. I was "given" my characters from The Night Shift, and chose the song White Christmas. The art was a little extra on my part.

Thanks for reading, and happy holidays!

The distant melody of another Christmas song echoed from upstairs, as did his mom and uncle's actually pretty good singing, but John didn't move. It was all just noise to him at this point. A quiet, half-formed thought tried to encourage him to get up and go help them decorate the tree, but his entire body had been carved from a block of cold, numb stone. He slid lower in the booth's faded bench seat. Sitting before him was the equally inert empty cup of coffee he'd originally come down into the shop for, which had been drained and left to cool for some time.

John's blank expression stared at the door. Night had fallen hours ago, bringing with it the soft, hazy glow of a snowstorm. The heavy white powder blanketed the rest of the world, rounding out harsher edges and burying everything in indistinct obscurity. If you didn't already know what to expect under a particular snowbank, you'd have no way of finding out without more than a little digging. Over the past hour or so both the flurries and the wind had picked up. Together they created an intricate dance, swirling and spiraling in the shop's exterior floodlight like they were on stage. Each gust was a delicate maneuver, the entire storm a complex song.

And John was just as numb to that as well.

What did catch his attention was the crunch of snow under tires and the scraping of shovels against the pavement. Outwardly he didn't react to those either, but each one was another little jab at his heart. One more needle slipping under his skin to draw out another pinprick of blood. His body was covered in scars that matched the dried salty trails of slush across the doormat. They were rough and jagged, bright against the dark surface, and were pointless to clean away this time of year. All the scrubbing in the world wouldn't stop them from forming all over again the second someone else walked through the door.

Heavy eyelids slid lower as John continued to not put up a fight to stay present. The chilling cold of the darkened coffee shop had drained away all but the very last of his resolve, leaving him hollow and stained like the inside of his empty mug. Uncomfortable as it obviously was, he wanted to feel the pain. More accurately, he was desperate to feel anything. Each and every day had been a little bit worse than the last, but it was his Uncle Alec's return that finally broke the camel's back. Then and only then had he truly noticed how much of him had gone numb. When he couldn't think of a fix, John decided to lean into it. To really embrace the sensation fully, with both body and soul.

Was that the right choice? Probably not. But, then again, John didn't care. Right here in this moment, however long it had been, was the first time he remembered feeling something that wasn't completely soul crushingly empty.

He slouched lower in the booth so that his shoulder blades touched the seat. The stark emptiness of his mind roared loudly in his ears, and his eyes fluttered that much closer to closing. After spending such a long time dancing around the issue, John was tired. Maybe sleeping down here wasn't that bad of an idea. Sure, his body wouldn't be too happy about it, but it might give him something to help take the pain away.

All the flurries blustering about outside had been a simple distraction to dissociate to, but out of nowhere there was motion in the darkness itself. A sharp silhouette crawled up over the opposite side of the table, moving with more purpose than John had experienced in hours. The shape didn't get too close, but it did speak.

"John?" Lyra's voice was soft and yet somehow managed to cut through the static.

Had he been any more in control of himself John wouldn't have flinched so hard. It was like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over his head, snapping him out of the sleepless dreaming that had almost taken him. Scrambling to support himself, John managed to sit upright with a forceful push against the seat, but he still needed a minute to blink the daze out of his eyes.

That acknowledgement was enough of an invitation for Lyra, and she started to slowly inch closer. "Are you alright? You've been down here for a while, and we were... I was getting worried."

Even though his throat felt like it was filled with cobwebs, John's voice managed to find its way out. "I-I," he croaked, "I'm fine."

The shadows falling across Lyra's face couldn't cover up her frown. "Is that so?"

Her anger became a chisel that broke through the icy walls he'd built to barricade himself in. Dropping his hands into his lap, John hung his head. "No..." he sighed. His eyes slid shut, but that was only to stem the incoming flow of tears. "I just, I miss him."

Lyra didn't say a word. She closed the remaining distance between them by walking right up to the edge of the table. For a moment she considered sitting down, but instead chose to stand so she could be as close to John as possible.

A ragged breath filled and left his lungs. "There was so much else going on last year that I didn't really have time to think about it." His eyes opened slowly, seeking her out like a warm fire in the midst of a howling storm. "B-But, but now, all I can see are the empty spaces. All the places he should be, but isn't. And won't ever be, ever again."

Before John realized he'd moved it, his hand was on the table, loosely draped behind Lyra. She didn't appear to be bothered, and even leaned into the touch, making his fingers curl in closer. As a fingertip brushed over her hip, Lyra locked eyes with him. Her expression told him all he needed to know, but it wasn't until she nodded encouragingly that John dared to take things farther. He scooped her up with all the care in the world even though his hands were still trembling. Instead of just lifting her higher John held her to his chest and sunk into the seat again. Lyra relaxed against him, fully content and at ease despite being essentially trapped.

Like the warmth of smoldering embers, Lyra's love melted through another layer of John's walls. "I know Uncle Alec always comes for Christmas," he murmured, "and I'm glad he's here for Mom, but he," John's entire body shuddered, "he just makes the emptiness bigger, because my heart knows it's supposed to be the three of them up there. Laughing, singing, decorating... This is as close to complete as their group can ever be again. Nothing they, or anyone else can do will ever be able to change that."

Burying her face into his shirt, Lyra took a deep breath. "Filling in the blank spaces doesn't make them go away," she agreed. "No matter how much the substitution might check all the right boxes, it just isn't the same."

It was rare for Lyra to ever speak of her many losses, regardless of who was gone or how long it had been. As they'd grown closer together, John had come to accept that some parts of her would always be inaccessible to him. However, that slight peek behind the curtain brought a gentle touch of ease to his grief ravaged heart. These were not hollow condolences given out of obligation. Lyra was empathizing with her entire being by reaching into the darkest places that could only hurt her. She had not come down into the coffee shop to force him back upstairs, but to connect with him in a way only she knew how.

His thumb bent in to lightly rest on the top of her head. "I keep waiting for his car to pull up," John mumbled on. "Like all this time he's just been out helping someone. That happened a lot, especially this time of year." He filled his lungs and exhaled a powerful sigh. "My heart can't stop believing that eventually he's gonna open that door with a laugh and burst of snow, then tease me about w-why I'm down, down here, and n-not ups-stairs..."

Sobs filled his throat, choking out his voice. John curled inward, draping his other hand over Lyra as well and mindfully clutching her to his chest. That messy blur was back and stronger than ever, but now he had the most powerful shield in the world. Lyra was the only thing keeping him sane, his literal last line of defense against the bellowing grief boiling within him. The animalistic desire to wail his overwhelming feelings would do nothing but scream his throat raw. Any release he could get from that would just cause him more pain beyond this instance. By simply being here, in this moment with him, Lyra was protecting him from himself.

Painful as it was to keep speaking, the entire process was oddly cathartic. "A-And, then," John rasped, "then we'd go up there t-together. To Mom and Uncle Alec." As more words came out his throat felt looser. "There'd be a pot of peppermint hot cocoa on the stove, and the same old CD of Christmas music would be playing. First we'd decorate the tree, then the rest of the house, until f-finally we'd come down here to do the shop. When we finished it'd be at least midnight, but everything would look amazing."

The pressure on her hadn't been unbearable, but Lyra wasn't able to actually calm down until it lessened. "That sounds like a lot of fun. What a wonderful tradition." More of John relaxed around her, and she rolled over onto her stomach in an attempt to look him in the eye. "I can confirm that there is hot cocoa brewing, and Pam dug a really banged up CD out of the closet."

After feeling Lyra move, John repositioned so he could see her. Now that he was out of his mind and back in the present, he smelled the faint waftings of peppermint and heard the familiar crooning of a song he'd listened to every year as far back as he could remember. John watched as Lyra settled more comfortably beneath his hand, sharing what little warmth she had with him. The sight of her so perfectly at ease cast a bright but pleasant light on the corners of his mind, chasing the shadows away.

"What do you think about going up there and joining them?" John asked, his stabler voice already sounding more like his normal self.

Lyra's slight frown just barely furrowed her brow. "Are you sure? I don't mind waiting if you need more time."

Shaking his head, John freed his left hand and braced it against the booth seat to sit up. "Don't worry, I'll be alright. Hiding out down here isn't gonna do me any good. Right now, what I really need is-"

The dull crunching of a car plowing through snow turned into the parking lot. They both froze, now suddenly back in John's sorrowful musings, and they held their breath as the extra diffused illumination from headlights shut off. A door opened, then slammed shut with a snow-muted thud. Softer, dampened footsteps marched towards the shop, bringing with them a familiar face just barely visible through the window.

Gently letting Lyra off on the table, John shuffled over to open the door. "Bret?" he muttered as the bundled, snow-dusted figure scrambled inside. "Did I miss a text or something?"

Bret shook his head, sending a small squall into the air as the door was shut behind him. "Nah, your mom invited me." He started unbuttoning his jacket and took off his hat. "If you didn't know I was coming, why were you down here?"

Walking back over to Lyra, John shrugged and rubbed the tip of his nose with the back of his hand. "Just needed a little break from the festivities, you know?"

A believable enough lie, but even in the dimmed lighting Bret could see the puffy rings around John's eyes. Despite that truth staring him in the face, he'd happily take the offered bait instead. "You always did say that decorating night could get outta hand," Bret joked. "And actually, this is kinda perfect." His gaze wandered to Lyra, who stiffened up ever so slightly.

"Why's that?" John asked in her place, shifting a little closer to her out of habit.

Not realizing just how much his crypticness was hurting the situation, Bret reached into his jacket's inner pocket. "Because I have something to give Lyra."

It didn't matter that so much time had passed, hearing him say her name like that still gave Lyra chills. She almost started inching closer to John, then immediately thought better of it. 'Don't show him anything's wrong,' she reminded herself. 'Everything can be turned into a weakness. Don't give him any more to take advantage of.'

An entire lifetime of better memories wouldn't be enough to outweigh or erase everything that happened to her at the museum. Lyra knew this, and so did Bret. However, as the one who hadn't been on the receiving end of years of torture, Bret wasn't always as quick to pick up whenever he inadvertently crossed that line. She knew he was trying his best, and the effort was appreciated, but the iron-clad instincts that had kept her alive wouldn't allow even the smallest slight to pass so easily.

When Bret's hand reemerged, it was closed around something small. He looked at Lyra then John before stepping up to the table and extending his arm just as slowly. Fingers pulled away quickly to reveal the little object, and while John was left squinting to figure out what it was, Lyra gasped. "W-Wait... Is that?"

"Your bag," Bret answered. "The one you had when I found you."

Lyra clamped a hand over her mouth and wrapped her other arm across her body. "How? How do you still have this when he asked you to destroy it?"

Bret needed to stabilize his balance by bracing a hand on the table. "Because I forgot." A groveling apology was building up inside of him, but instead of caving to that, he just went on with the story. "Amos wouldn't let me throw it out in his office because that would be too suspicious, so I just put it in my pocket. There was so much else going on that I completely forgot about it until I got home. I needed to stay on Amos's good side to keep my job, so I wanted to wait for the best time to throw it away. Until I found that, I decided to just stash it in my desk drawer... where I forgot about it again."

"I can't believe you kept it," Lyra mumbled, taking a shuffled step forward. This felt so much like a trap, but she just couldn't help herself. "After all this time."

Because she was getting closer, Bret wanted to pull his hand back and move away from the table. Thanks to his momentary indecision though, it looked like he'd missed his chance. 'She's already too close,' he grumbled. 'If I move now, it'll just freak her out. Probably enough that she won't accept it.'

So he stayed rooted in place and watched as the tiny Mintran woman knelt down to reunite with her timeworn pack. Lyra delicately unhooked the latch and drew in a sharp breath when she saw the stash of her old possessions. "It's all here," she murmured. "Everything..." Distant memories of the life that was stolen from her condensed into tears that stung her eyes. A choked down sob rocked her shoulders and her fingers dug into the thick fabric as she hunched lower.

Seconds later her head snapped up. Just as quickly she tossed the bag aside and jumped to her feet. The heavy stares following her weren't enough to stop her from breaking out into a full-on sprint, and she never wavered as she raced over to Bret's hand. She wrapped her arms as far as she could around his wrist and fully leaned into the hug.

"Th-Thank you, Bret," she whimpered, smearing tears over his skin. "You don't know what this means to me."

Now utterly terrified to move, Bret tried to hold his ground. "You're, um, you're welcome." The way she was clinging to him made his mind dredge up images of her begging for her life, which was a habit he'd broken her of long ago. He could hear echoes of mournful cries ripping through her raw throat. Each one dug into him as well to leave a festering scar that would never fully heal. Over time the wound had gotten easier to ignore, but that didn't mean it had stopped hurting.

Her joy couldn't hold her fear back forever though, so Lyra broke the embrace first. She shuffled backwards to the bag, refusing to take her eyes off Bret after voluntarily getting so dangerously close. He remained just as statuesque and didn't appear to take a full breath until she'd reached down to grab the bag.

Lyra offered a timid smile. "Seriously, Bret, thank you."

"Course," he muttered through a similar grin. "Merry Christmas."

The ache that had brought John down into the shop felt like a fading memory of an old nightmare. He hadn't fully recovered, but there was a new layer of warmth wrapped around his heart like a thick blanket. That warmth was holding him together, bundling up the pieces of him into a single place where they could be protected and cared for. Love was all around him, holding the door open to let him in out of the cold dark of loneliness. It was definitely something to do this time of year, but John knew without a doubt that everyone in this house would do the same things all over again even if it was the middle of summer.

John wrapped his hand behind Lyra's back again and gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze as he looked Bret in the eye. "We were just going upstairs to join them, and since you already talked to Mom, I know she'll be expecting you too." Lyra leaned back against him, and he knew that was his cue to pick her up. He didn't need to look down to scoop her off her feet, but he still sent a quick smile and wink her way. "They've probably already done a good chunk of it by now, but I'm sure there's more left to decorate."

Perking up more into his normal self, Bret nodded. "I'm here as long as you need me."

Nothing else had to be said as they hurried through the darkened coffee shop. When they opened the door at the bottom of the stairs the music changed. Without missing a beat, Pam and Alec were already singing.

"I'm, dreaming, of a White, Christmas..."

[a-yuu-in-the-yuuniverse]

A/N: Well Marisa's lore. I'm sorry if this is quite boring. I'm not a very good novel writer.

SPOILER WARNING: INCOMPLETE WORK

CONTENT WARNING: human experimentation, emotional manipulation, etc etc

Basically I'm clearing out drafts (I only have one) cause I'm lazy with art block again

.............................

"click, click."

A doctor(?) flicks a syringe with a strangely coloured liquid inside twice.

It seems like the liquid has a mind of its own, sloshing around the syringe.

The room is quite small, while also brightly lit. There is an iron door which seems to only open with a special keycard. There doesn't seem to be any gaps to let any air or magic in or out. The only other form of escape is a small vent on the ceiling of the room, but it is too small to crawl into...

A lifeless(?) human(?) is strapped tightly onto an operating table, seemingly twitching and sprawled across the table. It seems to be extremely weak. The light is shining directly onto it.

"Unit 143, I swear this is the last experiment, my child." The doctor(?) smiles, and lovingly(?) strokes the human's(?) cheek.

"After this, you will be the last, and the perfect specimen. You won't be a filthy orphan anymore, you'll be the catalyst to save this wretched world! Finally... Finally!" The smile morphs into a smirk. A smirk that's evil, creepy while still full of ambition and pride.

The doctor(?) cackles while holding Unit 143's hand still, ready to inject the strangely coloured liquid.

Unit 143 screams, the sound coming out strange due to it's hoarse voice. It seems like this has been done before...

The walls of the room are painted(?) in black. It doesn't seem like the painter did a very good job...

There are splatters of paint everywhere, and it isn't evenly coated. Though the black ink(?) is everywhere in the room. From the ceiling to the floor, there is not a singular place where it isn't stained.

Around the walls of the room are cages filled with black blobs. The only exception being the door, while it was also the only way to escape to the outside, or the other parts of the lab.

-

-

-

I wish I never took his hand.

Life in the slums would be better than now.

I wish I wasn't so naive.

How could I fall for her half-hearted acting skills?

Was it because I didn't know love?

Was I that desperate for affection, for someone's warmth?

"Doctor!"

I used to say that and run into her arms, unbeknownst to her true nature.

"Oh! My, how have you been? I'm so sorry, I had some work to do."

She said, hugging me back.

Even now I wonder sometimes. How did I not see the disgust in her eyes? Feel the reluctance in her actions? Notice her half-hearted attitude?

Was I proud of the fact that someone "loved" and fed me?

Even to the point of ignoring the hushed whispers and mumbles of others around me.

"It's that magic girl again."

"Acting so smug just because someone likes her."

"She should die already, her and her stupid magic."

"Magic killed my parents. She's such a freakshow."

"No wonder her parents abandoned her."

Should I have let those words get to me back then?

Should I have let loose, and used my magic to kill them all?

Ah, but my stupid magic was the thing that got me into this mess to begin with.

Doctor Gizensha was a "philanthropist".

Yeah, sure she was.

But back then, for us slum dwellers, she was our saviour. She gave everyone of us food every week without fail.

I was hesitant at first. Why would anyone, especially in a place like this, do such a thing out of the kindness of their heart?

I was suspicious. I knew there had to be some sort of catch.

And I should've stayed that way.

But she managed to break down my walls.

Week after week, she treated everyone nicely, even me!

She gave good food, and even gave me an expensive black ink fountain pen.

In my eyes, she was my saviour, like an angel that came down to heaven.

With her beautiful fake smile and actions, she turned into my god. everything was fake everything was fake-

She showed me how to trust and how to love.

And for many years after that, I treasured that pen.

The outside was a beautiful black, while the tip was the same blue as my eyes.

Though, I wasn't sure of what I would use it for, and why she even gave me it in the first place.

The rest were just jealous that she gave me special treatment. I got more and better food than the others, and she treated me better. I also did escalate the situation via taunting them by sticking out my tongue when the doctor wasn't looking.

I knew that, they knew that. They were just being immature, childish, and petty. Even though the majority of them were children like me at the time, but still.

So, I suppose I was also a part of the problem why they hated me. But they already hated me, and it wasn't that bad afterwards anyway.

I was only 7 at the time, how could you blame me? A child has got to be childish sometimes. Most slum people in the slums I grew up in were older than me, the minority were younger.

.

.

.

That's why I took her hand that day.

I wanted to show them that I wasn't just a freak. That I could be better. Better than them, better than everyone in that stupid slum!

I wanted them to see that someone could actually love me, and cherish me.

And what better to do that than to get adopted by someone I revered and praised as my saviour and god, the one and only woman who managed to break down all my walls?

...And I was such a fool to actually wholeheartedly believe that. The biggest fool in the world, even!

So shortly after she took me in, the experiments started.

After the first injection, physical, mental, and emotional tests started.

Then it repeated.

Again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And again!

And again..

And again...

And.. again...

And... again...

I was tired of it all. I wondered how long it had been since I saw the sun.

But I put up with it. All for the Doctor. All for her.

I was desperate for someone's warmth. So, so desperate.

It didn't matter who it was. I just wanted someone, anyone!

I also wanted to repay her for everything.

Because without her, I wouldn't have survived the slums. I would've survived just fine without her she just had to emotionally manipulate me and I believed that lying snake with every single fiber of my soul.

How unlucky of me to have picked the wrong person.

After every improvement, after every injection, I got just a slight glimpse of what her "love" was.

A hug, a compliment and some praise, but that was it.

"Oh, you did so well! Good job."

Then everything was cold again.

I craved it, I wanted it, I needed it.

And that was all I needed for me to do her bidding. That was all I needed to have the motivation and mental strength to continue on.

.

.

.

A/N: I'm not continuing this I'm LAZYYYYYYYYYYYYY maybe one day tho

But this is how it would go if I continued it

Something something experimentations go more in detail something something Yin and Yang something something about lore and character development something something escaping something something Lilia Vanrouge

[andtheyreonfire]

microorganism

Ao3

WC: 1989

AN: happy holidays, ya'll <3

~

Sumire arrives at Ren’s desk at 2 p.m., sharp.

She cranes her neck back, walking forward to try to take in the expanse of her partner. He’s hunched over a book on the table. Makoto and Haru sit next to one forearm, engrossed in their own. Compared to him, the books look like accessories for a doll. Sumire tries, again, to get a better angle at his form. She knew he was big, sure, but seeing it from any angle lower than his shoulder always gives her butterflies.

 —Not entirely the bad kind, mind you, which is why she’s here. Her first Official Hang-Out Date. She’s trying not to be too nervous. She hasn’t known them as long, but she’s determined. She will make a good impression on her girlfriend, and her other girlfriend, and her partner, and her girlfriend’s girlfriends, and her partner’s partners—

“Excuse me,” a calls comes from below her. She’s standing right behind Ren’s other arm. She peeks her head over to see a familiar shock of blue hair, hunched over a sketchbook in his lap. “You appear to be blocking my light source.”

She is, in fact, casting a shadow over Yusuke. She jumps out of the way with a speed usually reserved for a gymnastics meet. “M—my apologies! I should’ve—uhm...“

“it’s quite alright.” Yusuke gives her a genuine smile. He’s tucked in the crook of Ren’s arm, various art supplies strewn in the folds of Ren’s jacket. “I believe the others are here somewhere. Ann and Ryuji should be in his pocket, perhaps? You may find Futaba in his hood.”

He turns back to his notepad without another word.

Sumire breathes out. She assess Ren’s arm. He’s taking a page out of Ann’s closet, today, wearing a hoodie underneath his school jacket. Even though it’s the middle of fall, she’d be worried about him overheating. He runs much, much warmer than she does.

Two layers does mean plenty of material to climb. Sumire slings her bag over her shoulder, and begins to scale his arm.

Ren was the first she’d gone out with. Of the mix of emotions she’d felt upon meeting him—awe, hesitance, pure, unbridled envy—she’d eventually identified infatuation to be one of them. He’d accepted, but not before he asked, twirling a strand of hair between massive fingers, “I’m dating 6 other people, is that alright with you?”

She’d known, of course. She’d seen their dates, their gifts, the tiny lipstick marks on his hands. Sumire accepted, and that was that.

Then, Ann invited her out to crepes. They hit it off, well enough that Sumire now owns a third of her shirts and vice-versa. Then Futaba came, serenading her like a particularly introverted bird. Sumire didn’t quite know what she “computer specs” were, or any of the things Futaba showed her with pride, but she wasn’t able to resist how cute she was during her rants. Now, she has two girlfriends, two more than she ever thought possible.

The two layers of giant cloth under her do make an excellent climbing wall. She digs her fingers in the threads of Ren’s jacket, using the creases of fabric as footholds. Finally, she reaches Ren’s shoulder. She takes only a second to breathe, before ducking down to check which of his pockets might house her girlfriend.

She’d greet Ren if he wasn’t so engrossed in his own activity. He knows someone’s on his shoulder—if the slight tensing of his muscles was anything to go by—but it was a practiced motion, as if he were used to the group crawling on him willy-nilly.

Sumire stifles a fond smile, and begins to look.

The pocket under her lumps, slightly, so she crawls over to it. With—a lot of finagling, she manages to duck under the flap, and slide into the pocket.

She manages to halt her fall just before she collides with Ann and Ryuji’s tangled forms. At seeing them, she isn’t able to stop a grin from blooming on her face.

Ann notices her first. She’s laying flat, one arm intertwined with Ryuji’s, and the other laying behind her head. Ryuji himself lays on his side, curled around Ann’s right. His free hand is circled around Ann’s head and chest. When Sumire hesitates, Ann lifts her left arm to make grabby hands. “Sumi!”

Sumire smiles, before finagling herself into the pocket. She shoves her bag in a corner and hovers over the pair. Ryuji grins, gazing up at her with a puppy-like expression. “Hust lie on top of us, dude. We’ll make room.”

Sumire does, sandwiching between them. Ann and Ryuji adjust, until Ryuji has his arm under both their heads, and Ann’s dragging her nails across Sumire’s scalp.

Sumire’s not dating Ryuji—yet, her brain supplies, the smell of his cologne hitting her directly in her dopamine receptor—but it felt weird to abandon him for Ann. He doesn’t seem to mind, using his free hand to pull out his phone the second she gets settled.

Which, she seems to be doing a poor job, if Ann’s quiet voice is any indicator. “You’re all tensed up, sweetheart. Is something the matter?”

Sumire bites her lip. “Just, ah...what do you do, on these types of outings?”

“It definitely ain’t an outing,” Ryuji answers, eyes still locked on his phone, “But—I dunno. Hang out, study, sleep. Ren’s pockets are the best to sleep in, bro. If we feel like it, we might do a round of Jackbox, or watch a movie, or something.”

“Oh, right.” Ann’s fingernails catch a particularly sweet spot. Sumire melts. “You haven’t been on a group thing yet, have you?”

Sumire shakes her head. “I—I've been too busy with gymnastics meets. I've only been able to do one-on-one dates.”

“Well,” Ann murmurs. “Just relax. There’s nothing to worry about. We got you, alright?”

Insecurity has always cut into Sumire’s skin, telling her she could be smoother, faster, so much better than she is. The memory of things lost will always haunt her. There will always some part of her telling her she’s stealing her opportunities from someone else.

But, love something big enough to share. If Ann’s nails on her skull, her hand intwined with Ryuji, and the love she shares with all of them is any indicator. If Futaba’s custom emojis and memes and messages to all of them, even if Sumire’s the only one she’s dating, is any indicator. If Ren, being able to hold his loved ones close as if it were the act of breathing, is any indicator.

Sumire notices Ren’s heartbeat, now, thrumming right beside their forms. It seems to reverberate through them, surround them. The sound is sweeter than drums to her ears.

Sumira’s able to relax, held by the people she cares for, and, little by little, drift off to sleep.

~

Sumire wakes up less than an hour later, perfectly content.

—Well, she’s well rested. She’s also covered in sweat. She’s sandwiched between two heat slabs, both of which seem to be drooling on her. Her left leg is completely asleep, and her arm feels like it’s mildly dislocated. Perfectly content.

She untangles herself from the mess of limbs, trying not to step on Ann or Ryuji’s dozing forms. To their credit, they sleep as hard as they run warm. She climbs out of Ren’s pocket—left leg dangling awkwardly behind her, having set alight with pins and needles when she tried to shake it—and hoists herself on his shoulder.

Ren’s gone to scrolling on his phone, but reacts all the same when she sets a hand against his cheek. He turns, slowly enough so he doesn’t dislodge her, and gives her a small, genuine smile that sends butterflies fluttering in Sumire’s stomach.

“Ryuji told me you were here,” he whispers, as not to damage her hearing. He pouts, ever so slightly, and it takes a few seconds for Sumire to realize why.

“I know you would’ve given me a ride, but I didn’t want the others to be dislodged.” She scoots closer, enough to lean in and plant a kiss on his jaw. Even if Sumire doubts he can feel it, he leans into the touch, giving something suspiciously like a purr. “I can handle myself, Ren.”

“Okay,” he murmurs, “I know. We’re here for you if you need it, alright?”

Sumire smiles, running a hand along his jaw. He closes his eyes, as if in bliss, and Sumire feels her heart grow 3 sizes.

While she—pets him, she’s petting her, her partner is a giant cat and she loves him—she looks around for the others. Yusuke seems to have stayed in place, pen moving as furiously. Haru and Makoto have migrated to Ren’s other shoulder. They give her a wave when she makes eye contact, and she returns it.

She cranes her neck back, and finds a flash of orange hair peeking out from the folds of Ren’s hood.

“You should go to her,” Ren murmurs, following her line of sight. “I'm sure she’d love to see one of her key items.”

Sumire still has no idea what that means, but she nods. She braces herself against Ren’s cheek as she stands up. Her partner stays perfectly still, letting Sumire grasp onto his curls. She murmurs into his ear, “Stay put while I'm gone, alright?”

He snorts, but gives her another soft smile, before turning back to his phone. Sumire slides down his hood, stopping just as its altitude evens out enough for her to sit. She immediately scoots over to her girlfriend, watching her fingers fly across the laptop on her chest.

It takes a second, but Futaba does notice Sumire’s presence. She brightens, sliding one headphone off her ear. “H—hi.”

“Hello,” Sumire beams, “Can I touch you?”

Futaba nods, and Sumire immediately curls around her side. She hit a growth spurt during her second year. Now, Futaba’s head rests just above Sumire’s shoulder, firmly solidifying her place as the shortest among them. If Futaba looks small to her, Sumire can only imagine how small she looks to Ren.

But, her height does mean she can cocoon around her completely. Sumire melts into the fabric of the hood, arms wrapped around Futaba, a smile on her face.

Futaba starts the conversation, “So, y’know uuh, shiny Pokémon? I've told you about them, right?”

“Yes?” Futaba tried to get her into that game awhile back. She had to hand-hold her through most of it, Sumire being overwhelmed by the cute designs and the fact that she couldn’t jump. Incredibly unrealistic, for a game so filled with ledges. “What about them?”

“S—so, in previous Gens, the shiny rate was 1/8192. But, in Gen 6, it was cut down to almost half, even further with methods like the Masuda method, radar, etc. That’s not even counting RNG manipulation. Anyways, i—In recent games, it’s even easier to get one of those bad boys. But, there was a shiny in Pokémon Gold/Silver that you could get for free. Cool, right? I have an emulator pulled up right now...”

Sumire recognizes exactly none of those words, but she can’t help but listen as her girlfriend begins to ramble, nodding at the pixels on her laptop. It is a cute sea-serpent-thing, but she doesn’t get the chance to say so as Futaba continues to talk.

Sumire doesn’t mind. Quite the opposite, really. She sees why Futaba chose this spot. It was a place to get away from the group, but still feel Ren’s presence behind them. Every time he shifts makes them shift, a little, too.

His presence is there, but not cloying. A steady pillar of support. That’s what they all are, if the group chat pinging beside her is any indicator. Surrounded, by people who understand them like no one else. Surrounded by their affection, their love.

Sumire lets Futaba’s steady stream of words wash over her, plants a kiss on her cheek, and lets her heart glow.