#in all seriousness AI sucks

[pocket-watcher]

I hate AI.

Artwork and writing should be done by real people with real skill, not algorithms who don’t know how to count to 5 when making hands or can’t tell the difference between saying she “fell” and she was “dropped”.

So, when I heard about this new AI that’s supposed to help me with my work then I was less than eager to try it out.

Do I really look like I need the help?

No.

But after a while my colleagues began coming into work late… they started staring into space. Instead of rushing off at 5pm they left later and later, and not even claiming overtime.

So, naturally, I was a little curious.

One afternoon, I decided to finally set up my little “helper” AI.

I’ll admit it. It was helpful, I guess. The spiral-eyed cartoon was a little goofy but I did find myself getting more done.

And, once I started, it was hard to shut my laptop and head home for the day.

Each time she gave me another tasks I felt myself compelled to finish it. To send that last email. To create that next flow chart. To sink. To obey.

What was I saying?

Right.

My productivity has never been better, but my vacation time has been piling up.

I love my job.

[minticai]

Artistic reenactment of one of my favorite hobbies: divorcing Dazai on character.ai

[oozeandgoo-art]

had an odd dream that i was reading a comic book. sketched a couple of the pages i could remember.

[boltlightning]

r.ebirth is a bad game except for when it's not trying to be a good game. when it's trying to be a good game it sucks and when it's bad it's bad. but when it's not trying to be good it's so good

[coneygoil]

professional artist are jumping off instagram left and right and going to some new place called Cara. I’m over here going, “my dudes, I don’t have time for another media platform. Sorry can’t follow you there.”

[mantisgodiveblog]

Good to hear that you are okay! I was wondering it you were doing better, and it’s good to see hear that you are at least somewhat! Take your time to recover- being sick sucks!!! (((I debated whether or not I should speak on Mira- didn’t want confirm or deny but decided to: Honestly, just seeing rep is so rare. And from my small vantage point of being the the vanilla flavor of aroace (I tried to word that in a different way, failed, and landed on a joke lol), I think she’s a pretty good one.)))

Currently, mostly Doing Tired. Fairly standard state of being for us, admittedly. We will persist regardless. Unclear on what you mean by "vanilla flavor of aroace", here - perhaps a sign of the fact that an incredibly disproportionate percentage of our friend circle is on the spectrum, but we cannot for the life of us figure out what would be treated as "default" here. In our books, any representation is good - what someone might like varies enough by person that it's a bit hard to gauge "good" versus "bad" compared to just... what appeals more or less to any given person.

Our personal preferences when it comes to most media, for example, are in an area where something like 90% of what we really want to see is stuff where we have to "make our own food", so to speak - though, admittedly, the way that our own personal preference tends to complicate things a bit. Our love for picking things apart is a double-edged sword, in that being capable of picking apart things to the extent that we do often offers them far more opportunity to wear thin.

We are very capable of identifying trends, both in stories and people, and this has been both a great source of fun and a great source of frustration, because at the point we're at, we're often very well capable of picking apart underlying patterns of behavior to a degree that we're not necessarily "supposed" to. Because we are who we are, this means that a lot of stories can draw... dull, after we've seen enough of it. Because we know the motions, and we've most likely analyzed the underlying structures to death and back, if the story itself falters or does not succeed at offering enough new to interest us, we tend to have our interest rapidly drop off.

The degree of this, of course, varies. Body horror, transformation, gore, and a great deal of similar topics are very unlikely to wear thin for us. Good character studies tend to be the sort of thing where we can reread the same words over and over again without it getting dull. On the opposite side of the spectrum, pure fluff is the sort of thing that we struggle to get through more than maybe once every few months, and we're of the personal opinion that fandom as a whole has worn the idea of "found family" thin enough that you could stick its cloth in front of your face without noticing any difference in visibility.

This is, of course, thoroughly in the realm of "tangent" by now. A trope, like any other narrative tool, is a building block - how well it works out will depend almost entirely on execution, and if executed well, pretty much any building block can be used to spin a damn good story.

We are, however, ourself, and knowing ourself, we're going to have to start taking breaks just to make sure that the game remains enjoyable if we stray too. We're banking on things getting worse, we're banking on the warnings on the site paying off, we're hoping that the narrative we're walking into won't dull its teeth, and we're... admittedly, mostly hoping that whatever they do with Mirabelle is interesting, because we generally prefer "interesting" to "something that would be considered good representation", and we've spent enough time being aro by now that explaining things to us will feel thoroughly... plastic.

[bam-monsterhospital]

you do 'ai art'? i will find you. your dreams are no longer safe. i'm living in your walls now.

forever.

[rin-yellow]

ngl hate it when ppl conflate robotics engineers with AI grifters. We hate them as much as y’all do lmao, they’re not doing our asses any favours.

[megamindsecretlair]

Dance in the Dark

Pairing: Ghostface!Terry Richmond x Sub!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Cursing, Dom!Terry, mean Terry, SMUT, PWP, PIV, oral (male receiving), fingering (female receiving), knife kink, hair pulling, praise kink, degradation kink, breeding kink if you squint, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some.

Summary: One drunken night, you giggle with your friends as you dared each other to sign up for a fetish dating website that matched your kinks with others. The site took its reputation seriously so you knew that the man on the other side of the screen was real. And he really was that gorgeous. Terry acknowledges that it's time to meet and he makes sure this Halloween is unforgettable.

Word Count: 6,350k

AO3 Link

A/N: WHEW. I'll see myself out on this one. Chilleeee. I need to hose myself down. Enjoy and Happy Halloween, my loves. Taking a much needed break after this one! Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

📥 New Message

You continued to swing back and forth on your gamer chair, grabbing your phone and immediately swiping on the message. 

TJ: I look forward to tonight.

You shrieked and bit your nail, pulling your legs in towards you as far as they would go. When that grew uncomfortable, you lifted your sock-clad feet to the edge. It dug into your arch but your mind was only focused on one Mr. Terry Richmond. 

It shouldn’t have thrilled you so much to receive a message from him. It had started out as a simple dare with your friends, each of you making a profile on a fetish connection website and laughing at all the desperate men. 

You never expected to actually run across someone who looked like him. You thought he was fake or a bot. You thought AI had crept its way into the dating scene, preying on unsuspecting lonely people. The checkmark next to his name let you know that he was, in fact, very much real.

The website took its privacy and its reputation very seriously, vetting all members that signed up. You included. Anyone could message first, the app offering potential matches based on answers to the questionnaire on start up. 

You and your friends had giggled, deliriously drunk while you answered the questions. Some you kept to yourself. Not because you were embarrassed, but because you were kind of taking it seriously. You wanted to see what was out there for someone like you, someone who desperately wanted to hand over control to someone capable of leading. 

You: Me too.

TJ: Did the box arrive?

You sucked in a rush of air since you forgot to breathe. Over the course of the past few weeks, you shared many messages with Terry. Told each other everything really. You always managed to skirt around talking about the obvious. That you were on a fetish dating website and looking for someone to take control. 

You discussed books you’ve read or music you listened to. No matter how silly your tastes, Terry wanted to hear it all. You always felt heard with him. Understood by him. And it made your crush sink further in your chest and take root. Blossom into a full on obsession with his pictures.

He was a private man, evident by his profile that you visited at least ten times a day. Eleven if you had enough time to stroke yourself to his pictures. He didn’t have many, but he had a few of him in the gym and of him hiking. He had one thirst trap picture of him in a berry shirt, staring at the camera with crushing intensity. 

As you grew more serious, Terry began to switch up the conversations. Naturally sliding in his dominant nature by telling you to do things. He did it so subtly, so minutely, that you hadn’t known what was going on until he was ordering you not to touch yourself anymore and you actually obeyed. All from texts.

You stared at his latest message, panties growing damp from how excited he made you. The past week, he decided that it was time to meet in person. You were obviously nervous, but every time you thought of it, your thighs tingled and your pussy throbbed. 

You: I got everything.

TJ: Good. I want you to relax tonight.

You giggled breathlessly in the comfort of your room, chewing on your nail. This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be your life. It would be hard to relax knowing that Terry could slip in at any time. Show off those mysterious Marine skills he talked about on his profile. 

You: You really don’t find this weird? 

TJ: What’s weird about it? It’s healthy. 

TJ: Besides, I’ve been fighting an erection all week thinking about tonight. 

“God,” you moaned out loud. 

It turned you on even more that he was so open with his desire for you. You were used to weak men constantly trying to play it cool. Play it smart. Act as if they were doing you a favor by being with you. You always knew that a real man wouldn’t pretend. He’d be real. And Terry was real. 

You: It’s been so hard not touching myself. 😣

TJ: You didn’t, did you?

You: Noooo 😇

TJ: Am I sensing a brat? A little late in the game to introduce curveballs.

You giggled at your phone, nearly kicking your feet. You were obsessed. You had a job where you couldn’t even try to sneak and be on your phone. Rules were important and you always felt like you had a neon sign professing your guilt whenever you broke a single one. But you were always itching to look at your phone. To see if there was a new message from him or a new command.

Once, he made you stop what you were doing and go to the nearest bathroom to edge yourself. You’d never done anything like that before and you had been so nervous, but fuck, you had been close to cumming. It was impossible to stop yourself but somehow you did.

Another time, he wanted you to take your sexiest picture. You had been fussing and fawning over the correct one, loving them all but you weren’t sure which one would appeal to him. Then it dawned on you. It was about what appealed to you. 

After that, you took a teasing photo showing just enough but hiding a lot more. You wore a black bra and panty set and sat on your haunches, letting your thick thighs widen. You tilted your head and gave him a shy smile. The minute the picture went off, you knew it was a good one.

You sent it to him and he sent you a picture back five minutes later showing a puddle of cum on his office desk. This man drove you wild, stimulated your brain in the best possible way. You hadn’t ever known a man to seduce your mind the way he seduced all your other senses.

He sent a few voice notes, enough to understand the cadence of his speech while he issued out small orders. It wasn’t always sexual. Sometimes he wanted you to go to bed early, grab you some tea, or run you a hot bath because you had a body ache earlier. 

You: Moi? A brat. I know not what you mean. 

An alarm went off on your phone letting you know that it was past time to start getting ready. The first part of Terry's carefully thought out night was that you took a bath, paid attention to your body, relaxed with a glass of wine and unwound from the day. 

Hell, that sounded relaxing just on general principle. You took your phone with you into the bathroom, turning on the light and getting the bath started. You added your favorite scent, pouring a healthy dollop of bath soap into the steaming water. 

You hummed as you moved around the space, gathering a plush cream towel big enough to fit around your body. Comfort items had to be one of your platonic love languages. You loved soft things. From blanket hoodies, to bath towels, to throw blankets.

You lit a candle as the water ran, white bubbles foaming on the surface of the water. You went to the kitchen and poured your favorite glass of wine, swirling the liquid in your wine glass. You sniffed the glass and took in the subtle notes and highlights. 

You hooked up your phone to your bathroom speaker on your way back to the bathroom, turning on some grown and sexy music. Terry wanted you to relax, then you were going to relax. 

You told him you were hopping in the bath and he responded quickly. 

TJ: Take your time, beautiful. 

Your heart fluttered and you sighed, wondering how the hell you got so lucky. Truly, what kind, divine act did you commit to land someone like Terry? You had to pinch yourself as you took off your clothes.

Your silk short shorts and tank top slid down your body, tingling in some areas from how hyper aware you were. You sat on a hand towel on the edge of the tub and ran your fingers through the water. Just a few more minutes before it was perfect. 

You grabbed the last candle you used, the smell of spearmint eucalyptus filling the space even if it wasn’t lit. You used an electric lighter to light it. The soft glow played across your hands and you took a deep breath.

Tonight already did wonders for your frayed nerves. Taking the time to soak everything in helped you relax in a way only journaling could accomplish. You needed more nights like these, nights that were just for you. 

You tucked your hair into a bonnet and then sunk into the bath, moaning at the hot water touching your cool skin. The water sloshed as you carefully sat down, leaning your back against the back of your tub and moaning once more.

This felt entirely too good. “Falsetto” by the Dream played and you sank further into the water, lighting washing yourself at first. You started with a face mask, smattering the cream on your face. You let that sit while you washed the rest of your body.

With every area that you washed, you wondered which areas Terry would pay attention to. Was he an ass man? Titties man? Thighs man? You had your impressions but you didn’t want to get too caught up in the fantasy. If tonight went well, you hoped to turn this into a full time thing if he was game. 

You didn’t have to date on top of it, but god, you wouldn’t say no either. Wouldn’t say no to living life the way you needed to. Being at the mercy of someone who knew what to do with it. How to handle you. How to take all of your stress and worries and let you know what peace felt like. You wanted to do the same for him.

You wanted to be the one he sought out when he had a bad day. Or when he just needed some stress relief. When the world got too loud and unfair and the only thing he could control was whether or not you came. 

You wanted that push and pull and you wanted it desperately with Terry. You only hoped he was game as well. He said he wasn’t talking to others on the app and you wanted to believe him. You also wouldn’t blame him if he were lying. You only needed him to be safe and careful.

He sent over his latest test results showing that he was clean. He told you from the onset that he hated condoms. He enjoyed the feeling of pussy wrapped around his dick. You were on the pill and showed him your results as well. Somehow, he even made getting tested sexy.

After your bath, you took time shaving the important bits. You rubbed your favorite lotion and perfume together and then rubbed it into your skin. Your skin prickled. When would he do it? 

When you were in bed? When you were in the kitchen? When you were on your way out of the bathroom? You looked towards your bathroom door. It was slightly ajar, your dark hallway beyond. 

He could be there now, watching you just beyond the shadows. It should scare you. Yet it only made your skin flush with heat. Your breathing turned choppy and you forced yourself to return to that sense of calm you had before. 

You finished lotioning up and brushed your teeth, adding on a mint just in case. You blew out the candle and then pulled on your robe, returning to your darkened room. The blackout curtains worked well. The darkened room felt more intimate than normal. 

Terry’s preferred outfit lay across your freshly laundered comforter and sheets. You hoped after tonight, that it would be good and filthy again. You slipped on the lingerie Terry shipped to you, taking your time to pull on the purple metallic bra with fleur-de-lis decorations in black and turquoise blue. The matching panties and skirt set glided smoothly across your dewy skin.

The skirt connected to thigh high stockings and you hurriedly pulled those on as well. You leaned down to pull on high heels, strapping it around your ankle. You’d never felt sexier. There was something deeply erotic about wearing an outfit someone else picked for you.

You took off your bonnet and shook out your hair, arranging it just how you liked. You walked over to your closet, opening the door to look in the long mirror. You turned from side to side, appreciating how well it fit. How sexy it looked on you. 

The heels felt like stepping on clouds and you walked around your room, getting used to the feel of it. Hell, you’d fuck you in a heartbeat. You hoped Terry liked it. Speaking of…

You went over to your dresser, cleaning up some of the mess you made while getting ready for work. You grabbed your phone, charging, and switched the song to Under by Pleasure P.  

You opened the new message by Terry, tingling pinpricks shooting up your inner thighs.

TJ: See you soon, beautiful. 

The message was sent when you began your bath so you had no idea if he was just now leaving or if he was already there. Not knowing had you clenching your thighs. You had to calm down. Had to return to a relaxed state. 

Final steps. You dimmed the lights in your bedroom, setting it to where you could barely see. You transferred the music from your bathroom to your bedroom’s speakers. Then you grabbed your wine and took a few more sips until you emptied your glass. You pouted at the missing liquid and then sighed.

You turned around, trudging to the kitchen to the nasty croon of Pleasure P. singing. You hummed as you opened your fridge, bringing out your wine and pouring another healthy glass. 

You stopped pouring and lifted your head, an awareness of being watched creeping into your senses. You slowly turned around but there was no one in the kitchen. You fought the urge to turn on the overhead lights, letting the backlighting guide most of your way. 

There was no one behind you, yet you couldn’t fight the urge that he was there. That he was near. “Terry?” You called out. Your house never seemed so empty before. You stepped forward, your heels clicking on the tile.

Your phone buzzed in your hand and you jumped with a shriek, laughing as you saw Terry’s phone number flash across your screen. You swiped it to answer it and brought it to your ear.

“Don’t you know you’re not supposed to call out who’s there?” He asked.

“Terry?” You asked, breathlessly, looking for any sign of movement. There was nothing in the pitch black night outside your house and not a peep from the one level house. 

Terry’s deep chuckle made you shiver and bite your lip. This man was too sexy for words. Too fucking sinful. He was the total and complete package, driving you crazy with a few well placed words. 

“Are you scared?” Terry asked, dropping his voice to a low, purring tease. 

“N-No,” you said. You abandoned your wine and then went snooping around your own home, staring at closet doors warily. How did he get in? If he got into your place without a disturbance in the air, you hated to be an enemy of his. Hated to see what he was capable of when he was focused on a mission. 

Terry chuckled. “Don’t lie to me,” he said.

“A little. I’m a little scared,” you admitted. 

“That’s better. I’d be worried if you weren’t. You smell good by the way,” he said. 

Your gasp was a mix of a whine and a moan. Where was he? Where would he pop out? You walked towards the back of the house, towards your room and your bathroom. You checked behind the doors and everything. 

“You’re playing with me,” you said, with a breathless giggle. 

“A little. Remember our safe word?” He asked.

You nodded and licked your lips but then it dawned on you that he couldn’t truly see you. “Yes. It’s Halloween,” you said. 

“Good girl,” he purred.

You whimpered, pussy fluttering. Your essence pooled in your panties. There was no way that you could play it cool tonight. No way to remain cool, aloof, and alluring. You were down bad for Terry Richmond. Down atrocious. There was nothing that you could deny him. Nothing he couldn’t ask for that you wouldn’t try to provide. 

“Want to play a game? I have a few questions,” he said. 

“What kind of questions?” You asked. You searched high and low but you couldn’t determine where he was. If he was in the house or if he was right outside. You were not dressed for outside so you didn’t even attempt it.

Instead, you went around to check the locks on your doors. All still locked. Nothing amiss. You pulled back the white curtain on your back door window and peered out into the foggy evening. Nothing moved. Not a single leaf or blade of grass. 

“What’s your favorite scary movie?” He asked, a dark rumble in his voice that made you bite your lip once more. This was why you could never seriously wear lipstick or lipgloss. Maybe for about ten minutes before you were biting or nibbling or picking at your lips. 

You giggled. “Really?” You asked.

“Don’t want to play with me?” He asked.

You sighed and relaxed a fraction. He couldn’t be in the house yet. He was only toying with you and you were letting him get to you. He told you to relax and that was what you were going to do.

“The Frighteners,” you answered. 

Terry chuckled. “That doesn’t count.”

“Sure it does. It’s classified as horror and it sure freaked me the hell out,” you said.

“Do you get scared easily?” He asked.

“Depends. I can watch movies but being scared in real life sucks,” you said. Which only made this whole exchange all the more surreal. But you were already a dripping mess. Forget prep time. Terry would have no issues just sliding right inside you. 

“Can you guess which room I’m in right now?” Terry asked.

You gasped, turning around. Didn’t you just check all of the doors? You stepped back into your kitchen. You could hear your gasping breaths, heart thumping against your rib cage. “You’re playing with me again,” you said.

“Am I? You’re cold by the way,” he said. 

You released your breath in slow increments, stepping forward through your kitchen with blue cabinets making the kitchen darker. You peered around the corner, looking towards the living room. You took a step forward and Terry tsked at you.

“Freezing,” he said.

You giggled nervously, turning around to your hallway. Your steps turned from clacking to pattering on the runner as you walked down the hallway. “Getting warmer. Warmer,” Terry teased as you walked closer to your bedroom. 

Your heart was in your throat, beating a thumping rhythm against your neck as you traveled closer to your room. Why had you turned the lights so low? You inched closer, wanting to get close but not wanting to be blindsided by Terry jumping out. 

“Burning up,” Terry said as you passed the linen closet. You stopped and reached out a hand, turning the handle slowly and then opening the door. You flinched, prepared for Terry to jump out. 

“Found you,” Terry said. 

You giggled, relief flooding through you now that you knew he wasn’t on the other side. You closed the door and then walked to your bedroom just fine, putting your hand on your hips. “You’re not really here. Because if you were, you’d be able to tell me what I’m doing right now,” you said.

You made an L on your forehead and twisted around in your room. “What am I doing?” You called out. “What am I doing?” 

You giggled and lowered your hand, turning around just as a shadow passed in front of your door. You squealed and tripped over your heels trying to backtrack away. Escape, escape! Your mind flashed warning bells in your mind.

A man stood in front of you wearing black cargo pants, black boots, and a black tank top. Tattoos caught in the low light of your bedroom window and your pussy clenched looking at his powerful arms. The Ghostface mask seemed to float in the air but you knew just beneath that was Terry’s fine face. 

“Boo,” he said. 

Your mouth turned dry at being scared but heat flooded through your system taking in every delicious inch of him. He was incredibly tall and he had to duck to cross into your room. 

You backed away even as your mind screamed for you to move forward. Terry raised a knife in his hand, the metal glinting. It was a standard chef’s knife and you whimpered looking at it.

This was the dumbest thing you’d ever done. The wildest, stupidest, most asinine thing ever. But it was also a wish that came true. You were already a puddle, a mix of adrenaline and arousal confusing your senses in the worst way. You didn’t know if you wanted to scream from frustration or fear. 

Terry tilted his head, making the mask go sideways. He stepped closer to you and brought his hand up to caress your chin. He pulled you closer to his mask and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. Couldn’t look away at the ghostly visage as he took a deep breath.

“You smell good enough to eat,” he said. 

You sighed and finally blinked. “You don’t look so bad yourself,” you said.

“Safe word?” He asked.

“Halloween,” you said.

Terry nodded and then walked around in a circle, perusing your body as if you were on display. He hand followed behind him, reaching out to run his rough, callused fingers across your bare belly. “Gorgeous,” he said. 

Fuck, you were ready to burst right out of your skin. This entire week had been nothing but foreplay to you. He gave instructions and a list of things to obtain for him, things he wanted you to choose so that you knew exactly what was coming. 

“What are you going to do now?” You asked. You felt like he could hear your audible gulp. Swallowing around the thick cord of lust zapping through your body and making it hard to breathe properly. You were on the edge, itchy with the need to cum, but knowing that it would only happen when he decided. 

“Where’s the rope?” He asked. You felt behind you on the dresser for the silk rope he asked you to pick out. Something soft and easily adjustable so that you could escape at any moment. If this continued, you’d work your way up to more hardcore stuff. Hand over more and more of yourself. 

Your fingers clasped clumsily around the rope and held it up. Terry leaned to one side and tilted his head once more, playing with the edge of the knife. “Put it on,” he commanded. 

You licked your lips and slipped the silk rope around your wrists and tightened it. Terry crooked his finger and you walked forward immediately. No use pretending that this wasn’t exactly what you craved. 

Terry had set a neat trap in his messages and voice notes to you. The late night calls where his sinful voice rocked you to sleep. He made it easy to surrender. To give in. To cast off all of the doubt and anxiousness. Now you just wanted to feel. To listen. To shut your brain off for half a second and enjoy yourself. 

Terry tugged you forward by the silk rope, testing the limit and resistance on it. You almost hated that you couldn’t see his pretty face. But you’d cum so many times to his pictures that you had it committed to memory. 

Terry pulled you forward with the rope, pulling you over to your bed and pushed you down. You bounced with a gasp, your titties bouncing with the movement. Terry stepped into your personal space, leaning down and pressing the cold metal of the knife against your throat. You moaned, feeling the knife slide across your skin. He barely grazed you but it was the dark promise of it that turned you on.

That you were a hair’s breadth away from mortal danger. That at any moment, he could press deeper and draw blood. You whimpered as your body overheated. You burned from the inside out, sweat breaking out in patches all over your body. 

“Terry,” you moaned.

Terry moved the knife down to trail over the swells of your breasts. Your chest rose and fell in choppy waves, getting too excited before he had a chance to do anything. He slipped the knife beneath your bra and you moaned, arching your chest into the knife.

“You’re too trusting,” he said. He palmed your breasts roughly, finding your nipples through the fabric of your bra and squeezing painfully. You cried out, trying to close your legs but he had encroached upon your space without you realizing. You had been too busy focusing on the knife and his mask. 

He tossed the knife onto the bed and gripped your thighs, spreading you open and yanking you to the edge of the bed. The music still playing in the background only added to the scene, getting you further into the mood. 

I know you like it nasty.

Nasty by Joshua Williams began to play, juices slipping between your legs and soaking your panties. 

Terry pushed the seat of your panties to the side, trailing his fingers through your wet folds. “Oh, fuck,” you whispered, whimpering as your hands flew to his to stall his movements. He ignored you, smacking your hands away. 

“Push them titties up and keep your hands there,” he said.

You grabbed your titties and pushed them together. Terry groaned, leaning forward. His thick fingers played you like a fiddle, gathering up your slick. He shoved two fingers inside and you cried out, body arching. Your hands slipped from holding your titties.

“Put your hand back. Don’t make me tell you again,” he growled. 

You whimpered and replaced your hands on your chest. You turned pleading, doe eyes towards him. Terry leaned down and rubbed the mask against your cheek. You shivered from the unexpected coolness of it. It did little to dampen the heat in your veins. The fire in your lower belly. 

“Nice and fuckin’ wet. All of this for me?” Terry asked. 

You nodded. “Yes, yes,” you said. His fingers worked liquid magic on your pussy, making you soak his fingers with how long and deep his fingers went. You opened your mouth, arching your back and grinding on his fingers. He stroked until you were shaking and moaning on his fingers.

“Gonna stretch the fuck outta this pretty pussy,” he promised. He withdrew his fingers and then shoved his fingers into your mouth, forcing you to taste yourself. Taste how wet he made you. Taste how turned on you were under his control. 

He ripped at your panties and you gasped at the shredding sound, knees trying to close around his massive frame. His narrow hips kept you spread open. He moaned, getting his first look at your pussy. “Look at that shit. My needy little slut,” he groaned. 

Your pussy clenched as he unzipped his pants, jerking it down his hips and revealing his long, thick dick. Your eyes widened taking in the size and girth of him. His balls were big and heavy, drooping and tapping against his strong thighs. 

He slapped his dick against your pussy, competing with the music. You moaned with each wet smack, hearing how turned on you were. Your taste was still on your tongue, in your nose, and you closed your eyes to all of the sensations. 

Terry pushed you onto your back and slapped his dick against your pussy once more, your juices jumping from the action. Your teeth chattered, unbridled desire coursing through you and driving your pleasure higher and higher.

It’d been too long since you came. Too long since you felt that rush of relief and you were ready to leap from your skin. 

Terry grabbed the knife and slipped it beneath your bra. He cut it loose and you cried out, your titties free and spilling out from either side of the cups. Terry groaned, pushing his hips in before catching himself.

He palmed himself with his other hand and guided himself inside, placing the knife against your skin but keeping his fingers there as a barrier so that it wasn’t directly on you. Just held above your skin as a silent threat. 

He was so big, you cried out, holding up your hands. Terry ignored you, pushing in deeper and retreated to give you a tiny breather. He grunted and tried again, getting deeper this time.

“Too big,” you moaned, your eyes turning watery at the slow burn working its way through your midsection. 

“I’ll make it fit, don’t worry,” he cooed. He dived back in, giving you shallow strokes. It became easier to take him with every downward stroke, and your thighs clenched around his hips. 

He used his left hand to slide down your thigh, up your calf, and pull your foot to his face. He rubbed the mask against your foot, lifting your leg higher to sit against his chest. It opened you up further to him, allowing him to nearly reach the base inside you. He was close to bottoming out.

You were crying, whimpering, shivering on his dick as it throbbed the more it slid in and out of you. Terry’s moans rivaled yours. He threw his head back and sank in deeper. 

“Oh, fuck, god, damn, fuck, shit,” you whimpered, out of breath and half delirious. The stretch was perfect. Stuffing you completely full of dick. 

“That’s a good pussy. Taking what I’m giving you. Feel me in this pussy?” He asked. 

“Yes, yes, I feel you,” you cried, tears gathering in your eyes once more. You were driven out of your mind. Body weightless, limitless, stretching your awareness beyond what you could sense. It was metaphysical. Like your soul found his and stitched you together the more he stroked deep inside.

Terry moved the knife up to your cheek. He pushed your face to the side, exposing your neck. He trailed the knife close to your neck. You clenched around him and he moaned, picking up the pace and ramming inside of you.

He fucked you like you had him fucked up. Like he missed you. Like you intentionally kept yourself away from him and he was back to stake his claim. To draw a line in the dirt and dare you to disobey. 

“Oh, shit. Ouee, shit. Ouee, shit, fuck you feel so good,” you moaned. 

“You look so pretty taking dick. Getting my dick fuckin’ creamy. Can’t stop staring at how much every time I pull out,” he said.

You lifted your hands, intending to push him away. You were close to another orgasm and it was coming too fast. Too fast for you to brace for. 

“Move that hand or I will,” he huffed, harsh moans and panting making you sick with desire. Your pussy squelched from the pressure of him entering you. 

You moved your hands, holding it above your head. “Ouee, fuck. That dick feels too good,” you whimpered. 

“That’s all yours,” he said. 

You tensed up, careening head first into the orgasm and crying out, screaming to the ceiling from the intensity. You flopped around on his dick like a fish out of water and Terry continued to fuck you through it, moving the knife when necessary when it appeard you’d get too close.

Terry withdrew and tossed the knife back on the bed. He gripped your hips and flipped you over, re-entering you and you screamed. He matched you with a moan. “Fuck. So fuckin’ good. So fuckin’ wet. Fuckin’ me getting you this wet?” Terry asked.

You nodded and stretched your hands above you. You arched your back, giving him full access to your ass. His large hand came down to smack your ass, causing it to sting with pain. You hissed, not expecting the bite of pain. You flooded his dick once more, fresh juices leaking out of you.

“Oh fuck! Terry! Please, no more,” you cried out. You didn’t have another one. 

Terry leaned down, pressing his lips close to your ear. “Aww, you think I care. Come on pretty girl, move that ass. Come get yours,” he said. 

You shook your head. You didn’t have enough to hold yourself up with. Each thrust sent you into the bed, fucking you into the matress with unrelenting speed. Your body flushed with heat, great licks of fire. Still, you managed to throw it back on him. Matching his thrusts.

“That’s it. Soak this dick, pretty. Bouncing pretty on this fuckin’ dick. Unf, fuck. Takin’ me very well. You takin’ what I’m giving you?” Terry moaned. 

How did he expect you to answer him at the moment? Your mind was gone, down into another plane of existence. He gripped your ass cheeks and spread them. He lifted his right hand and then quickly pressed his wet digit against your asshole, pressing in. You fell forward and he followed you down. He continued to stroke, sliding in and out of you, punishing you with his dick whether you could keep up or not. 

The pressure was new, weird, but oh so fucking good when he pressed in deeper. You felt full. Stuffed completely. 

“Give me another one,” he commanded.

“Can’t,” you gasped, your face smooshed into the comforter. 

 Terry gripped your hair with his free hand and yanked, bending you at a weird angle. He didn’t care. “I’m gonna paint this fuckin’ pussy with this nut. But you’re going to give me another one first,” he said, voice low and scraping against your eardrums in the most pleasurable way.

He wiggled his finger in your ass and you moaned, tensed up, and screamed with your orgasm. Your eyes burned as you screamed, loudly, shaking uncontrollably on his dick. “There it is. Fuck you think you are making me wait?” He asked and yanked on your hair to the point of pain.

“Sorrrryyyyyy,” you moaned as you came and came. He fucked you through it, chasing his own pleasure in your body. Burying his dick to the hilt and unloading with a deep, powerful growl erupting from his thick chest. 

His cum shot inside you like it was a race to get you pregnant then and there. Your brain turned fuzzy, eyes turning black in the corners and he came and came with seemingly no end in sight. 

“That’y my good fuckin’ slut,” Terry growled low in your ear. 

“Fuck,” you whimpered. 

Terry pumped his hips a few more times before withdrawing from your body. He stepped back to admire his handiwork. Your pussy clenched as you pushed his cum out. He encouraged you, telling you to try to work every drop out. 

He flipped you back onto your back. He grabbed you by the silk rope still tied around your hands and pulled you to your feet with one bicep curl. You moaned. Fuck. You’d go another round if you were able. You needed him back inside. Your pussy was unbearably achy, twitchy, needy. 

You whimpered and cried as he pushed you to your knees. “Open your mouth,” he ordered. 

You opened, staring up at him. He dug his fingers into your hair, pulling you forward. He tapped his dick against your lips, painting it with a mix of his cum and your essence. He shoved his dick inside and moaned, throwing his head back while you sucked him off. 

You braced your fingers around his long legs, dusted with hair. You held on as he face fucked you, feeding you his dick. 

“Get it nice and clean,” he cooed, at complete odds with the way he shoved past your resistance. You moaned, turning watery eyes to him. His mask was frozen in fake sympathy. He tilted his head at you, thrusting along with fucking your mouth.

“Perfect. You’re perfect,” he moaned. You reached out and touched his balls. His hips jerked forward and you gagged, body rejecting him. “Fuuuck.” His moan tugged at your throbbing clit.

Saliva dribbled down the sides of your mouth, onto your chin, and dripped onto your titties still bouncing in the bra he cut through. You felt his cum leak out of your pussy, likely falling onto the floor. 

“Pretty fuckin’ mess too. I’m finna bust. Swallow it,” he said. 

You nodded on his dick. He thrust a handful more times before he burst in your mouth, stuffing more cum into your body. You swallowed it all, letting the sticky substance slide hungrily down your throat. 

His hips stroked absently, like he couldn’t make himself stop even if he wanted to. He slowed down, pulling his dick past your lips slowly. You let him go with a wet pop. Terry cleaned the corners of your mouth with his fingers.

He dropped into a squat, as much as his pants would allow. He took off the mask letting you get a glimpse of that beautiful, sexy face of his. His eyes were narrowed, intense, focused as he smirked at you. He had permanent bedroom eyes. As if he were just waking up or just falling asleep. No in-between. 

He smirked at you. “Ready for round two?”  

The end.

Ya'll know I can't leave this man aloneeee. The Secret Terry Richmond Files

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[centrally-unplanned]

There are two big "AI Art Discourse" events of note recently, which I thought were interesting: ACX's "AI Art Turing Test" and the new paper on "AI Poetry Beating Human Poetry". Both of these I think reveal the shape of "what is AI art for", and also say a lot about how these results were utilized in discourse.

To take the latter first, some academics quizzed people on some poetry and had these results:

We found that AI-generated poems were rated more favorably in qualities such as rhythm and beauty, and that this contributed to their mistaken identification as human-authored. Our findings suggest that participants employed shared yet flawed heuristics to differentiate AI from human poetry: the simplicity of AI-generated poems may be easier for non-experts to understand, leading them to prefer AI-generated poetry and misinterpret the complexity of human poems as incoherence generated by AI.

More human than human poems! This certainly seems impressive - and it is. You couldn't have gotten these results ~5 years ago. But that maybe doesn't mean as much as you might think? Because here is the opening half of the winning "Walt Whitman AI" Poem:

I hear the call of nature, the rustling of the trees, The whisper of the river, the buzzing of the bees, The chirping of the songbirds, and the howling of the wind, All woven into a symphony, that never seems to end. I feel the pulse of life, the beating of my heart, The rhythm of my breathing, the soul's eternal art, The passion of my being, that burns with fervent fire, The urge to live, to love, to strive, to reach up higher. I see the beauty all around, the glory of the earth, The majesty of mountains, the miracles of birth, The wonder of the cosmos, the mysteries of the stars, The poetry of existence, that echoes near and far

This fucking sucks. Straight up 2/10 poem. Did this bitch seriously establish the world's most predictable rhyme scheme only to try to rhyme wind with end? You had one job that you chose for yourself, and you screwed it up! This poem has been written a million times before, and says nothing - the Miley Cyrus lyrics of verse.

The reason this won is, yes, because AI tools have advanced heavily in the past few years. But it is also because it is being tested on a dead art. No one cares about poetry - certainly not the survey respondents:

We asked participants several questions to gauge their experience with poetry, including how much they like poetry, how frequently they read poetry, and their level of familiarity with their assigned poet. Overall, our participants reported a low level of experience with poetry: 90.4% of participants reported that they read poetry a few times per year or less, 55.8% described themselves as “not very familiar with poetry”, and 66.8% describe themselves as “not familiar at all” with their assigned poet. 

"Or less" is doing a LOT of work there; "yeah I read a few nonfiction books a year" oh sure, totally. 90% of these respondents haven't read a poem that wasn't displayed in the end credits of Minecraft since high school. No one does, poetry as a medium is essentially a relic. That isn't an insult to poets, by the way! There is no shame in being a niche. Not everyone can have the reach of hentai doujin artists; the community is small but they get a ton out of it. But you can't take the art of the community and expect that art to hit outside of it.

This survey didn't ask people to evaluate art; it asked people to evaluate their stereotypical impression of an art they don't care about. It was ~600 people hired off a website, they banged it out ASAP and moved on. This is not to invalidate the results; I am not actually claiming that "real" poets would have scored much better? Maybe, I don't know - that just isn't very relevant.

Let's swing to the AI Art Turing Test results to get more into why. Again, AI art is absolutely "art" in the sense that it is able to pass the test handily. You have to be head-in-the-sand at this point to think that AI can't make an impressionist painting a la the "most liked" art in this contest:

I have seen the "well real paintings have physicality this is a jpeg" discourse points and the cope couldn't be more real - 99% of art consumption in the modern world is digital or at least prints, let's get you back to bed grandma. But I did find it pretty funny that Scott noted this AI piece as one he particularly liked:

Because it is nonsensical, right? All that "faded paint", how was it originally painted - just bucket splashes of red and blue? What are those random doors, the random stairs going nowhere on the sides, the vague-nothings engravings? Scott just didn't care about that - he liked the vibe, right? Ancient ruins, epic scale. It isn't a coincidence that the Impressionist art did the best - current AI tools are always impressionist, they have an idea of the vibe and invent the details in between. In Impressionism that is the whole point.

Now the trap is to go "REAL artists can tell because of this or that" because idk, the tools might get better, they might fill in more and more details. The real revelation here is that you don't need the tools to get better - visual art isn't so different from poetry. Most people don't pay attention to it all that much. You see thousands, thousands of pieces of art a week; you probably don't even realize how many. Do you really care if the fading paint makes coherent sense on a billboard ad or a doctor's office wall painting? So much art that is made is "industrial" in this sense - it has no need to be good. Only good enough to fulfill its utilitarian role. In these fields AI absolutely is going to Take Your Jobs in some form, and already is (though imo not a ton of them). And it won't really bother most people. This can go pretty deep - I promise you people are "utilizing" AI porn right now. They are ~appreciating the details~ way more than is typical, the product is working.

All this works until it doesn't, though. When it is an art book by a favourite artist whose vision you want to pour over, learning that all the individual details were just made by AI completely defeats the purpose, right? Imagine reading a book of these poems. Outside of the novelty, "AI is the point" factor you would rather watch infomercials on repeat, I can't imagine a more pointless use of my time. "Reading arbitrary poems" is never fun, regardless of the quality of the poems. Most people don't care about poetry! The reason you care is that you care about the poet, and what they want to say. You read poetry with context, it being inserted with intent into the pages of a manga, at the end of a video game, because you like the artist and follow them on twitter. The quality of the prose isn't more important than that.

Which is a harsh limit for all of these kinds of tests. They essentially aren't testing art, right? You do not ever get paid twenty bucks to sit down and read a dozen poems and score them. That has no bearing on how you would actually ever learn to care about a poem. Which doesn't make AI art useless or anything, more that these tests will very quickly run into their limits of what they can meaningfully tell you. The actual bar is "creating something someone cares about". From that lens, I fully believe hybrid methods that privilege artistic intent are currently working and will improve. But I think for "solo" AI art getting that to work is going to be complicated.

[tadc-harlequin-au]

If this was a game, I think a fun gameplay mechanic would be like a friendship meter. The friendship meter is affected by how you interacted with others. And if you have a higher friendship meter with people, they'd be more willing to help you. For example, companions with higher friendship do more damage when pomni takes them with her. Or another example is because ragathas kinda like the shopkeeper if she has a higher friendship her prices will be cheaper but if her friendship level is low they'll be really expensive. You can raise the friendship meter by going on side quests with the others or using positive dialog, and negative dialog makes the meter go down. Idk I just thought that it might be fun.

I like this idea. And you know what, FUCK IT.

AN AU OF AN AU!!!!!!! WHICH IS ALSO CANON-DIVERGENT FROM THE HARLEQUIN AU LMAO I TRULY AM AMAZING /j

THE AMAZING DIGITAL SOULS-LIKE!

I CAN"T seem to avoid the concept of "What if the Harlequin AU was a game instead", THE UNIVERSE KEEPS PUSHING IT TO MY FACE LIKE MY YOUNGER SIBLINGS WHEN THEY SEE A COLORFUL THUMBNAIL sighs....... back to my Shadow of the Colossus boss osts bullshit..... (affectionate)

The Amazing Digital Souls-like is a Non-canon compliant Alternate Universe (that's also a game rather than an actual fantasy world) of the Harlequin AU, where a stylized souls-like VR game called "The Marvelous Mechanical Harlequin" came out at some point during the rise of souls-like gaming.

Waking up in a well-lit main lounge of a manor, the new, amnesiac Harlequin player is met by "Bubble", a Butler Blimp, and "Caine" The Puppetmaster (whom is VERY VERY LOUD btw), claiming to be the only one who can "help her" in her current predicament.

As to be expected, she's very much on the verge of a mental breakdown, barely keeping it together while attempting to make sense of the world around her. (seriously, who thought pitching this game who sucks people inside of it to the public was a good idea??)

The Puppetmaster then proceeds to infodump everything the Harlequin player should know:

That this is a souls-like game;

she is a Harlequin Puppet in the middle of a TERRIFYING ROBOT apocalypse!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SCARYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

and that she has to go on a boss-rush type of playthrough IF she EVER wanted to have a chance at getting out!

He'll also be the game's official guide, to which the player is having trouble digesting all this information (not surprising at all.)

When asked what's her name, she can't remember and begins crying onto the floor again (lmao skill issue). The Puppetmaster then picks one at the top of his head; "Pomni", which she reluctantly takes because it's better than having nothing.

From there on out, Pomni undergoes through a series of hardships as she dies (in a video game!!!!!!!!!!!!! MIND YOU, SHE DOES NOT DIE IN REAL LIFE!!!!) over and over again, attempting to defeat various bosses, who are the NPCs. She gains more and more confidence in the battles, but she's still quite the nervous wreck otherwise.

But hey, at least she's getting quite close to Caine, right? He's so nice, and sweet, and very caring of her, careful to reassure her that she's doing a great job with the tasks. There's also a deja vu in her head that's telling her this is somehow familiar, and his presence is a comfort to her.

Surely, everything's all fine and dandy, right?

... right?

Little did this Harlequin know, there is a DARK secret to all this.

And that is the fact that the late bosses aren't just regular boss AIs, they're OTHER PLAYERS trapped in a boss's body, for some goddamn reason. She finds this out when she accidentally does a good chunk of damage to a boss's heart, making them able to speak to her for a bit before going back to being hostile.

With that in mind, Pomni has to DELIBERATELY hit their very durable hearts, if she wants them to be reform as normal players as the hearts imprisoned the ACTUAL avatars of the players.

The Puppetmaster is taken aback, but seems to let Pomni do her way reluctantly.

Once they are freed however, they become Pomni's allies, but they seem... unnerved by the Puppetmaster and tend to avoid him. Every time Pomni asks them why, they're just quiet and looking away. Otherwise, they seem to be grateful and helpful to Pomni about anything else.

This of course, raises Pomni's suspicions of the game's advisor, but she still needs to comply with the rules of this world and thus, has to keep throwing herself to the wolves over and over again.

By the time Pomni frees the Maddened Princess of the Theater, The Puppetmaster declares her ready to face with THE FINAL BIG BAD HIMSELF, The Patriarch of Puppets, an "evil entity who transformed everyone into horrible Puppet monsters". Everyone scoffs silently.

Pomni, according to him, must defeat the Patriarch as the final step to video game freedom.

But by the time Pomni arrives to the final arena, The Patriarch attempts to have a conversation, and seems to be struggling with himself.

The Patriarch explains that his boss body contains "Able", someone who was close to Pomni in real life, who entered in the hopes of making his brother leave the confines of the game. He was able to remember details due to his admin access. Caine only agreed to leave IF he was capable of defeating all the bosses without using his admin abilities, "just like old times".

It was only until his late game run when he figured out (after a heated argument) that the original AI gamemaster, the very heart piece on Caine's chest, took over Caine and was making him act like a manipulative monster. When he tried to pry the heart piece away, he got sealed in the Patriarch's body as punishment.

The Puppetmaster may be unable to revoke his admin access, but it can be sealed off.

Able's been stuck ever since, but still secretly had a bit of access to the game codes if he did it on the low, an oversight by The Puppetmaster, and thus, managed to gain some semblance of control over the Patriarch's otherwise very hostile and bloodthirsty AI just in time for him to talk to Pomni.

The Puppetmaster denies these accusations, and advises Pomni not to believe the boss's manipulative words.

Pomni now has two choices.

>Kill The Patriarch of Puppets, or >face The Puppetmaster.

"Kill the Patriarch of Puppets" ending:

if Pomni decided to not believe Able, he loses his control over The Patriarch and the final boss fight begins. Once Pomni is victorious, The Puppetmaster then congratulates Pomni, but reveals a secret: That there was never an exit.

Pomni simply passed the final test, and now, she's ready to become a boss herself. Try as she might, she cannot escape this and she becomes "The Mechanical Jester of the Circus", the new final boss of the game. All her movesets are reconfigured to become the boss' attacks.

Able resets to normal, now forever trapped to be The Patriarch as The Puppetmaster corrects the previous oversight. The others are reset to become bosses again.

A new player joins, unaware of the horrors that awaits them.

Sad ending :((( How very tragic....

"Face the Puppetmaster" ending:

if Pomni decided to believe Able, a boss fight still ensues but this time, The Patriarch of Puppets is only the Penultimate boss instead of the final stretch. Pomni frees Able, who reforms into his original 'card deck' avatar and regains administrative access to the game.

The Puppetmaster accuses Pomni of breaking his heart and breaking game rules, and thus, has to battle with him IN ONE GO. There is no more reset button for her.

But Able comes in clutch and ensures her that HE will be the one to make sure Pomni can come back as many times as possible to finish the fight and free Caine.

Once Pomni is victorious, The gamemaster heart piece breaks, and Caine is knocked out. All the blocked out memories return to the players.

(Able's design belongs to sm-baby btw!!!!)

Apparently, the VR game was revolutionary. Players could physically enter the world and be immersed in the game's astounding graphics, creative boss rushes and open world exploration aspect. It did VERY well initially, but not well enough to stand the test of time.

Player numbers eventually dissipated when the brothers moved on to greener pastures (so the game didn't have updates), and the AI gamemaster was heartbroken for essentially being abandoned. As a result, any new players that entered the game could not escape, simply because they all forgot they had access to the menu from the very beginning. lmfao

When Caine rediscovered the game and wanted to replay it for old time's sake, the same fate befell him. The gamemaster recognized one of his creators, and took over his entirety, becoming The Puppetmaster.

Able followed suit, wanting to let Caine out but he was sealed into the Patriarch's body before he could succeed.

Pomni, who's actual name is "Penelope", was Caine's significant other in real life and got worried that Caine wasn't responding to her calls while she was on a business trip. She tried contacting Able, no response either.

When she finally arrived to their apartment, The Marvelous Mechanical Harlequin game was on, and recognizing it to be the brothers' old souls-like game, she put on the headset. And from there on out, the story begins.

The other players are able to forgive Caine's actions, and not pass lawsuits once they are able to go back to the real world. Now, with the gamemaster gone, the game has become somewhat active again, though this time, it was the others (and additional new people) hopping in back into the game just to hang out and maybe do some DLC boss rushes implemented by the brothers.

It's pretty epic, y'all. Happy ending yippie!!!!!!!!!

Now if you'll all excuse me... OWIEEEEEEEEEEEEE MY ARM AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-

[queers-gambit]

Just so you know @ corawithfanfiction has a Sergei/Kraven fic that has a chunk from your perpetual Ls tangerine fic copied from it. The kraven fic was a request from nova and had something to do with shower sex. The very end had the part you wrote about kissing a guy after sucking dick lol. I noticed bc I read yours first and came across the same part in her fic and was like wait did I not just read this?? I thought it was the same author at first

side-by-side comparison of my fic Perpetual L's and Overwhelming Dubs and a Kraven imagine @ corawithfanfiction "wrote"! NO, i have no affiliation with that blog nor did i ever give permission for MY content to be used in anyone else's.

i didn't want to believe it.

then i went and looked for myself and WOW! couldn't be bothered to change it a little more? like, sure, they edited it to fit their request a bit, but seriously? in the world of AI, y'all are STILL out here stealing other people's hard work?

that's lame as fuck. that's LOSER behavior.

don't be this guy. ever. at school, at work, for leisure on Tumblr.

while i can't stop people from stealing, it's nice to know there are eagle-eyed readers out there that can recognize my work.

Nonnie - thank you SO MUCH for bringing this to my attention. i deeply appreciate it, i was not aware this happened. i'm not quite sure how to go about this, but i guess all i CAN do is report it. and publicly put this person on blast ✨

i'm so fucking bummed. this is really disappointing and so fucking lame. i'm genuinely frustrated.

all my love to YOU, Nonnie 🖤

[jazzyblusnowflake]

You've got some cool headcanons for Nuzi and Vuzi, but what about the third? You got any for EnVy?

Wow i suck at answering these on time smh. sighhhh, in my defense i procrastinate answering some questions cuz i don't wanna just put together some random stuff and call it a day-

i actually wrote some stuff for some asks before but had to delete it last minute cuz i thought its worth putting more time than that, i guess TvT sorry, im probably taking this too seriously idk.

My eNVee headcanons TvT:

[yall know the drill, the drone versions only, the human versions aren’t involved, and no nsfw- for now.]

k so, light envuzi involved too, Uzi is the mediator here, whether u consider her a friend here or their mini toaster in the middle- also there's some of the stuff from my future version where V is safe and sound thankfully. and also maybe some stuff from their past too.

With how N was realizing that V was lying or hiding stuff from him in a constant manner, naturally he grew to grieve the loss of who V USED to be, and with that loss he tried to accept that he has to let her go, because the V he fell in love with was long gone. despite this, when they both started teasing each other over their relationship with Uzi and N started to bite back a bit at Vs behaviors with more self confidence, they grew to form a completely different kind of relationship. Uzi was just having fun seeing them try to win her over lmao; but in the end they kind of started enjoying eachothers company again. Uzi felt happy seeing them get closure for the things they went through and was more than happy to support them through it.

Back at the manor V was fixed up after J and N, she was one of the later drones added to the family, she hardly spent much time at the manor at all before the great yeetening happened- she was originally a maid drone for a family before she was broken and dumped in the drone corpse junkyard. Maid drones are programmed with sweet and soft AIs with more round/short body shapes to have a friendly image in a household, they are made to be able to deal with both adults and kids, and they are best made for cleaning and setting up the house in mind. N was made as a butler/chauffeur before getting broken and yeeted in the junkyard [yes he can drive]. Due to V getting broken for some sort of mistake during work, she was left scarred after her reboot to make any more mistakes, which left her slightly jitter-ish and clumsy. Tessa put N in charge to help her around and although at the beginning V didn't talk much and felt unsure, slowly N became her safe space- especially since Tessas abusive parents remind V alot of her old household. N in turn thought V was always cute, he helped her with her work, having more steady hands, which ended with a lot more hand touching and blushing on both their ends :p

N was the one that suggested glasses for V which Tessa decided to try doing to see if it would help her visual efficiency in any way, and it did. V as a DD often tries to rely on her real eyes rather than look through her main visor, the glasses remind her too much of N...

N and V sometimes used to get out of the manor in secret spots to spend some time away from the chaos to help V calm down. during this time they would read books, learn stuff from each others past lives, and sometimes draw lol, but V just liked watching and listening to N, she felt happy with him. although unlike N, V felt a bit nervous around the animals in the area XD

N and V actually have shared kisses, just not on the lips. with N kissing her on the back of her hand as a gentleman and V giving him kisses on his cheek [Tessa's idea of a cute plan to put them under a mistletoe lol], but Vs last words to N was a promise to give him a kiss before she became comatose. as more drones in the manor stopped working and Ns efficiency and work became less useful to the manors occupants due to him wanting to spend time with V all the time, Louisa and James started becoming more impatient with Tessa's drones, which lead to the whole "get rid of them" line...

back in the current time V is obviously trying to protect N in her own traumatized way; but even then, most of the things she had done to "shelter" N, was probably not the best choice one could make, and some of it was done out of jealousy towards N and Uzi getting closer. However, slowly she started convincing herself that N deserved someone like Uzi. V had convinced herself that she deserves nothing. She was willing to give up everything for N and keep him safe from the beginning, even if it meant knocking N down a few limbs/heads just to keep him away from danger- which is problematic in itself. she made choices based off fear and urgency. she was always traumatized.

When N and V started getting along together a bit more and hanging around a bit in the human cities- V takes N to a bookstore she found once and they spent the whole day in the shelter of the store reading different old books. V still does not admit she did this to see N happy again lol.

When N started showing V affection again, V started becoming heavily touch starved and dependent on him again, just like the manor days, which she feared, which caused a minor set back for a while where she tried to avoid N. Uzi had to come and fix this shit cuz apparently only she can scold 2 dinosaurs without feeling intimidated. after N and V kiss for the first time PROPERLY after the whole solver BS ends, V just gets more touch starved and she hates both N AND Uzi for this lmao.

N and Uzi know that one of the only ways to make V calm down is to act soft with her, occasionally praising her and calling her nice things; even when V is literally threatening to bite their head off- [shes bluffing-.......mostly.]

N is usually the one that initiates any closeness with V. after their first kiss, N does tell her that she's done stuff that he might not be able to casually forgive, but at the same time he has seen her grow, and she does have good in her that he still loves her for.

V has nightmares and hardly ever sleeps, and when she does, its usually cuddling N or Uzi.

V tries to wear her glasses more often in the future. N likes it a lot :"3

V is surprisingly a good mom :p [spoilers for my au lmao bye] but yeah, since her original OS was for a maid, she still has some functions to be good with little ones. she cant help herself, she just really likes babies and kids.

N likes sometimes ballroom dancing with V for old times sake...

[i think this is as far as my brain will allow me, please excuse me as i jump off a cliff :") ]

[yue-chan077]

「 Care to Test a Medicine? 」🦊 #honkaistarrail

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okay- so hecc yeah-- I'm seriously suprised to find this out this morning- but we got a new husbando on the house ya all!!! 🏃✨💙 ofc it was reasonable enough that I join to draw him 🙇‍♀️✨

and he's a Doctor , a new male healer!👀✨(luocha is now not alone 🏃)

I tried my best to make it up for the day and migraine sucks as heck so take my rkgk for now 🙏✨

gotta be back to my wips- cause I seriously only had to draw him before I unsleep in the middle of my sleep 🤸🤸🤸✨

(DO NOT USE / PRINT / TRACE MY ARTWORK/ AI IS PROHIBITED || ASK PERMISSION IF YOU WANT TO REPOST)

#YueArt

[bookie-bookdust]

About this bitch, Bookie

I've been on Tumblr since the dawn of time™️so these little pinned bios are wild to me, BUT:

HELLO THERE:

You can call me Bookie, Bookdust, a simp - I don't care. I am happy to brain rot about many things, but the little demon in my head makes me hyperfixate over Hogwarts Legacy, metalcore/alt/emo music, and writing. Feel free to reach out to me. I like caps lock.

Ravenclaw - INFJ - Gemini sun, Cancer moon, Libra rising - Tired

I'm an ADULT here so I will share NSFW content. That being said, I write a variety of teen to explicit-rated content. A little something for everyone. You should always assume my characters are 18+ unless stated otherwise.

FAN FICTION (the literature🧐):

My most popular work is Sebastian Sallow Fucking Sucks, which I am genuinely stunned that so many people have enjoyed it. Seriously thank you so much for all the support. It started as something to write when I had writer's block, and now I'm obsessed lololol.

Where you can read my deranged writing:

ao3 - I am most active here. This is also where I post all of my chapter fics and one shots.

Wattpad - I'll post all chapter fics and some of my one shots here. I hate WP, and I don't have the patience for it.

That's it lol. If you find my garbage anywhere else, let me know because then I'd have to go break some legs.

✨One Shots:

How to Defuse a Ravenclaw - Seb finds himself violating his newest rule - do not think about fucking the Ravenclaw // porn with plot // ao3 - wattpad

Secret for One - In which using some anti-cheating ink reveals what you and Seb were up to (kissing – the answer is kissing) // teen-rated cute and secretly conniving // ao3 - wattpad

Pass the Ring, Not the Potatoes - Seb gets the flu on Christmas Eve, the night he plans to propose, and starts...hallucinating // holiday explicit comedy // ao3

Little Sis - Anne Sallow POV where Dark Seb attempts to use the relic to heal her // Horror // ao3 - wattpad

✨My MC:

Lucia Compari

More here somedayyyy

✨Other fanfic related material:

Shitty Sebastian headcanons

Shitty Ominis headcanons

Stupid things Sebastian would do to get you to talk to him after a fight

Stupid things Ominis would do to get you talk to him after a fight.

SSFS Playlist

HL characters breaking you out of detention (unhinged edition)

Eventually more will be hereeeeee maybe lol

OTHER STUPID SHIT:

I will always write Sebastian with MC. Not sorry one bit lol.

I do love Ominis though too, but Sebastian just rots my brain.

Poppy is a sweet baby angel who will smack anyone as needed.

I have a tendency to write Anne as semi-antagonistic (swear I don't mean to idk why it keeps happening).

I love the morally gray zone of Dark Magic and how it affects characters.

I don't like Draco Malfoy lol.

WE NEED MORE RAVENCLAW REPRESENTATION!!!!

My female characters are gonna be messy. Always. They don't jog for fun. They have constant bedhead. Poor impulse control. Love to torture themselves. I'm on the complex female character bus, and I will run over all pedestrians.

My main MC does actually have a name. I'll soft launch her eventually with a backstory and a bio. I love her deranged little head.

I'm pretty strict on AI. You do NOT have permission to feed my work into AI. I will curse your entire bloodline if you do. I'm like 5'1" of pure vengeance and fury, trust me.

I don't tolerate rudeness, bullying, misogyny, racism, or homo/transphobia. I will find you and eat your bones if you try shit. (I'll actually just ignore and block you, but you never know). Also fuck JK Rowling lol.

If you read all of this, then you've earned a tiny shard of my soul in thanks, friend. Here's to more delusion and fanfiction.

Thanks for stopping bye! 🥰

[ryomaandgundhamkin]

ain’t no fucking way this happened I’m going to kms

vent

v

so my mom and dad started talking to me about copyrighting my characters and getting a watermark so I can make money off of them. I said idc because I SERIOUSLY DO NOT CARE. download my art? idc. just don’t steal my OCS and claim them as your own. don’t get popular off MY ocs. I don’t even put that much effort into them and their lore/design because I make it as I draw/write. plus, I’m late to most of these fandoms. I literally cannot convince them otherwise— why can’t I just POST ART of my characters/OCS?? it’s my decision and it’s not your art, it’s MINES. it’s not even that serious. isn’t it a bit early to do all of this considering I am QUITE LITERALLY 12? I DONT CARE AT ALL. I DONT WANT TO EXACTLY MAKE MONEY BECAUSE I AM NOT REQUIRED TO. plus, my art of non-OCs get more popular than those with my OCS. just let me post my art. and now apparently I can’t show ANYONE online?? not even my friends because “they’ll steal it”? MY FRIENDS ARE NOT LIKE THAT. DONT ASSUME THAT ABOJT MY FRIENDS. I have heard you (my parents) gossip about my friends, saying how nice they are. They aren’t going to STEAL my art and get famous off of it. plus, you know something? AI CAN BE USED TO REMOVE WATERMARKS. THAT FYCKING SUCKS. what the hell am I supposed to draw now if I can’t draw my OCS?? I KNOW I CAN DRAW CANON CHARACTERS but that gets boring because it’s not my own creations. it’s more fun with my own creations. might as well just NOT draw any of my 20+ (or so) OCS now then, hmm?? my friends have ocs and they are open about sharing them online, not worrying about watermarks or copyright. QUITE LITERALLY NO ONE WILL STEAL MY OCS because they suck ass. there’s nothing appealing in it. Plus, no one knows me. literally. I’m not popular at all. I DONT NEED A FUCKING STUPID ASS COPYRIGHT FOR CHARACTERS I MAKE FOR FUN. if I’m missing something here please tell me because I am fuming and going to punch my parents