#knucklehead edgelord

[griffinsspike]

this is one of my pokemon OCs! his name is makia lymantria. he's an edgy misanthropic knucklehead and sore loser, but he's got a good heart. despite being a miserable edgelord, he's very good with Pokemon. his ability to make fast friends with them plays into his habit of counterpicking

more about him below!

he has a bit of a moth motif (see also, that last name), and his ace is a volcarona. without a doubt, he's a strong trainer - despite an obsession with finding battles where the deck is stacked against him.

his jacket is based on Volcarona. there's supposed to be an Umbreon's ring between the gray and tan on the bottom right, but I tend to forget to draw it

in choosing his ace, I wanted to pick something that felt "evil" in gameplay. hence, Volcarona. but despite my experiences with Quiver Dance, it - and moths in general - have grown on me a lot this year

[lyrazehedgieboiii]

Everything.

I wrote this story because I was in the mood. This story is kind of, kind of based off of SonamySister567′s oneshot on Wattpad, which is in a series of oneshots called Random Oneshot Collection.

Today was Amy’s birthday. She had sent texts to her friends.

No one had come.

No one replied.

Maybe they were busy? Lmao no.

The app said that they had seen the message. If so, why didn’t they respond?

Who cares? She already faces enough from that stupid blue hedgehog. Ever since that night, he had avoided her. Every single fucking time he saw her, he ran off, as if she went back to chasing him. 

She doesn’t do that anymore. She won’t cry. She couldn’t seem to. What’s the use of crying, if it won’t solve anything? 

Her friends tried to comfort her, but she would not tell them what Sonic had done. What he had left in her. Not just a broken heart, but something else as well...

...

She needed air. 

She changed into a plain black top and and black leggings, and a denim jacket on top of that. She let her long back-length quills out, and put on gold hoop earrings. She opened her garage, and pulled a black cover off of something. Something magnificent. Something she had gotten on her birthday last year. Something that could be used to escape from reality.

A red motorcycle. 

Perfect. 

She got on and drove her worries away. She knew it would catch up to her, but she had to keep on going. She wasn’t going to run away, she didn’t want to leave oh-so-suddenly. She felt the wind in her hair, and the sensation it gave her made her wish she had more time to do these kinds of things.

She heard a ‘zip’ pass on her left. She didn’t need to turn to know that it was that asshole. Nevertheless, she kept on riding.

She knew he saw her, and she knew that he slowed down to look at her. 

     “Hey, Ames!” He dares to say her pet-name. Say it like nothing had happened. Something he called her before that night. She wanted to jump off the motorcycle and pounce into his arms.

She wouldn’t.

Besides, a little part of her enjoyed avoiding her.

Let’s see if he’ll resort to begging.

She goes faster, knowing he’ll catch up. He does, in fact. She continues looking forward.

She wants peace and quiet, that blue pest just can’t seem to understand! She always gave him his space, why can’t he just do the same?

She sped up some more, and he did the same, knowing that a speed like this wasn’t even hard to catch up to in his case.

     “Ames?” He said. “Why aren’t you talking?” 

Did she have to respond?

No.

Was she going to?

Nope.

She did a donut with the bike and went to max speed, circling around the blue blur, who was confused as to what she was doing. Before he could blink, she was out of sight. She had tricked him. 

She actually managed to trick the so-called “Hero of Mobius.”

She kept on going. She wasn’t following the wind.

She was following the light.

She was following her heart, which led in the same direction. 

It led her back home. She didn’t see him around, so she put her motorcycle back to where she had once placed it, and went back inside. A breeze picked up in her home. Literally. She was picked up by the same blue blur that had the nerve to ruin her. 

He had the nerve to pick her up. 

He had the fucking nerve to run her to a cafe when she could’ve walked there herself. 

But no.

He does it anyways, placing her in a chair. Her friends came out of nowhere and all said the words she thought they had forgotten to tell her. 

“Happy birthday, Amy!”

She shook.

Not in happiness.

But in anger.

They knew she hated surprises. 

So, why did they do it?

Did they have any idea of all the pain and rejection she had to go through? The stress?

She kept a neutral expression, and simply stood up, and went to the door without saying anything. 

She didn’t want anything to happen to the growing miracle inside her. The blue blur, the rabbit, and the thieving bat blocked her way out. The two girls asking her what happened.

The edgelord and nerd joined in, as well as the knucklehead and futuristic duo. They slowly led her back to her seat. She just couldn’t allow herself to show emotion.

She didn’t want to.

    “Ames, please. Why aren’t you saying anything?” That blue son of a bitch had a pleading look in his eyes. 

Why was he pleading?

Was it just so he could talk to her? To reconnect?

Or was it just so he could get into her pants?

Either way, she wasn’t going to reply.

Why should she? He had already ignored her for weeks.

She just wanted him to feel the pain.

She screamed.

Her face fell on to the table in front of her, and refused to get up. Everyone looked to the blue blur, knowing that any of her problems usually revolved around him. 

She heard him tell everybody to give them a little privacy. She heard them go. 

There’s no way she’s forgiving him this time.

She continues to keep her head down. She felt his arms wrap around her torso, bringing her in to him. He kept saying sorry while his muzzle nuzzled into her quills. 

She wanted to push him away.

What was stopping her?

Everything. 

She couldn’t tell him.

He’d leave for real this time.

    “Amy...just tell me what happened...what did I do wrong?” The tone of his voice sounded like he was hurt and was begging to know what was wrong.

She brought her head up.

She was about to say the words.

She was about to say the words that could either excite her or make her only love leave.

She actually gathered up the courage to say it.

Does she want to? 

No. 

This was for the miracle. She wouldn’t consider it a curse, nor a mistake.

A blessing.

She was going to say it.

Sonic looked at her with those emerald eyes of his.

    “I’m pregnant.”

She didn’t say anything else. She stood up and left.

She didn’t stay to hear his reply.

Her friends went after her, chasing her until she got back home. She simply walked to her room and slammed the door. She closed the curtains, and puts her phone on silence. 

The door broke down to reveal him.

The reason why she was avoiding her friends.

The reason why she was avoiding society.

The reason why she avoiding reality.

She turned to her side, knowing there was no escape.

He walked up to her bed, and sat on it.

They had done a lot on that bed.

His hands around her once again.

He chuckled.

He had the fucking nerve to laugh. When she was in pain.

    “Why are you laughing?!” She asked, her voice sounding a bit hoarse.

    “Because I’m going to be a dad!” He laughed harder and snuggled into the crook of her neck. “Why were you so upset about it though?” He questioned her. 

She was outraged.

How dare he.

     “What do you mean, I was so upset?! I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’ve been ignoring me for the past couple weeks!” She yelled at him.

He didn’t flinch. As if he knew this was coming.

     “First of all, Ames, please don’t stress. It isn’t good for the baby! Second, I thought you needed space after that night, so I decided to give it to you!”

    “SPACE?! If anything, you should’ve been with me! You weren’t there the next morning! You acted like I didn’t exist!” She broke.

She let the helpless tears out.

They weren’t helpless.

She wasn’t helpless.

Those tears were of pain, rejection, and stress. Something that he had never felt.

He felt pain, but it was always physical. Sure, he might get sad over a loved one, but he doesn’t know how it feels to be rejected, and have the thought that he would only be able to love the child growing inside him. He felt stress, but it wasn’t unhealthy for him. It wouldn’t harm anything developing in his stomach.

Nothing he felt could harm a child.

Especially an unborn one.

However, his actions could.

    “I’m sorry. I’m a jackass, an asshole, a son of a bitch, and I avoided you when I could’ve been supporting you. Supporting us. Especially with the little one on the way.” He told her. The way he said it. He sounded genuine. Amy still loved him, and he seemed to love her back.

Everything would stop her from pushing him away.

Her heart, 

Her mind,

Her baby,

Everything.

    “I love you, Sonikku~” She found herself saying. Sonic smiled, a tear shedding from his eye, while a hundred from her’s.

    “I love you too, Ames. Once our little bundle is born, we’re going to get married, have more kids, lots more~!” Sonic exclaimed whimsically. He meant it. 

Before she could blink, he pulled out a ring.

A ring that would promise her that they’d seal the deal eventually.

Because everything about him made her love him.

Everything about her made him love her.

(Look at all the bolded words, they make a sentence from start to end.)

[bubblesandgutz]

In relation to your last review (Disma), what's your take on the whole "Separating the art from the artist" thing? Is it okay to enjoy a bigoted artist's work without supporting the artist's views?

Man, I’ve obviously neglected my inbox as that Disma post is weeks... maybe months old. I promise to do better with the “Ask” feature here, but if any of you have DM’ed me in recent months, please understand that I’m trying to spend less time on social media and i’ve kinda actively ignored DMs across all platforms.

But Disma... what a mess. In the time since my post, their knucklehead singer has resurrected his dumb fascist industrial solo project and been given the boot from the band. I leave it up to other people to decide whether they can listen to Disma in good conscience, though personally I think there’s a difference between supporting an artist who uses their art as a platform for shitty ideas and edgelord stunts versus supporting an artist who has sketchy politics but doesn’t involve it in their work. And for that reason, I personally find Disma to be more benign than even something as goofy as, say, Angry Samoans.

Eric Clapton was outspokenly against immigration. Moe Tucker is a member of the Tea Party. So one could argue that Cream and The Velvet Underground had racists in their ranks. I don’t think Clapton or Tucker view themselves as racists even if their political views support a racist infrastructure, so I don’t think they’re nearly as problematic as any given self-proclaimed NSBM artist, but I could easily understand why someone would see Clapton being more dangerous in his scope of influence than some Ukranian black metal band with indecipherable lyrics playing a Rock Against Communism festival outside of Kiev. But on the other hand, when I bought The Velvet Underground & Nico, I wasn’t actively supporting Tucker’s dumb politics, and when I listen to The Ramones, I’m not aligning myself with Johnny Ramone’s love for Ronald Reagan.

Long story short: every artist is probably awful in some way or other. It’s up to you to decide where you draw the line.