#muh junk

[xerebann]

They're having a lil chuckle about some of the wild shit Raven gets up to when Irene's not around.

Also, drawing Destiny without the mask is bizarre. She basically has like no distinctive physical features aside from her eyes being greyed out

[rubbarband]

Mun vs Muse

-

//The best I could with one of these things.//

Tagged by: @ghostspxder

Tagging: You looking at this

[the-real-rain-world-confessions]

I'm an oldster in this fandom, relatively speaking. started playing in 2020. I remember when the msc mod became hush-hush. i remember when Hunter was the favorite. i remember when shipping was scarce, a cute little side thing no one minded. there was so much more room to live and breathe the real language of the game. The depth of the lore and the characters was boundless. i remember the day the official discord server hit 15k members.

I love Downpour. I love everything downpour brings to the story of the game (except one thing, fuck Survivor OE ending. it ruins the campaign). I fully believe Downpour is canon, I believe Downpour successfully expands on everything set up in Vanilla. I'm beyond grateful i was able to experience Rain World truly Vanilla, and see the world and characters deepen and expand in such thought provoking and significant ways. Downpour is good. I dont even think the campaigns are that overpowered. With the exception of Gourmand and Rivulet, i think the DP campaigns have really high skill floors, with ceilings even higher. i think it's fine. and i dont care because the stories are worth it.

No, my issue is with the community, the fandom, if you will. I am as gay and allo as it gets. Fuck the shipping scene in this fandom. its fucking oppressive, its boring, surface level junk that actively detracts from the depth of the game. iterator shipping i can tolerate, i still dont mind, its the fucking slugcats. shipping Artificer and Hunter is stupid because they dont live at the same time, arti is probably dead by the time Hunter is made. shipping Artificer and Saint is mega stupid, arti definitely died! i think all these characters, slugs included, have fascinating parallels and reltionships ripe with conflict and intrigue, there's tons to talk about but no who fucking cares, muh fucking artihunter look theyre red and orange they're lesbians. enormous groan. if it was just a silly joke, i wouldnt care, but it's way too much of the fandom now and it blows chunks. unfortunately i love and respect canon too much to be willing to fucking obliterate it as required to actually engage with the slugcat shipping.

i miss when you could just talk about the lore and not have to throw in a big caution sign that you do actually think downpour is canon and good, sorry fellow old guard. i miss when you could just talk about the characters and not have to throw in a big caution sign that you take the game seriously and not as fodder for shipping or warrior cats oc bait.

it begs the question: why are you 1.9 people here? are you here because you love this game for what it is? or are you here just for the fandom? dont ruin this for me like you did to undertale.

- Sliverist

.

[mayhems-cannon]

honestly my current wish right now is to be able to downgrade from my current phone to like six different separate pieces of hardware that have their own specific goals but that take fifty times more space. Spotify is cool and whatever but what if i just used a fucking mp3 reader. What if i just carried a 3ds and psp with me so i can play actual non rigged non pay to win gacha games and also just used my psp to read ao3 fics offline cause that’s objectively funnier than on my phone or on a kindle. Phone cameras are convenient but actually i really want to carry my shitty Polaroid to take blurry and off colored photos on film that’s chemically way more expensive than something like an instax and has to be shielded from the light in a really annoying way. oh and an actual camera for filming shit. like an actual one. if europe actually still manufactured or imported convenient and non dumbed down flip phones id get one of those but unfortunately i guess not cause of course muh smartphones muh muh if you don’t have one of those pieces of addictive garbage you might as well not exist at all nowadays. so uh i guess i’ll just get a secondhand hmd phone cause fuck me if i have to pay as much for this thing anymore.

idk man i just wish everything could be less convenient than “here’s your little addiction minicomputer” cause i really wish i wasn’t addicted to this piece of junk just because it has access to the funny video apps and also everything you need but worse because it has to be a tiny fucking thing with only one port nowadays

[sterekchub]

Alpha Derek getting fat after he sees Stiles looking at fat men. Stiles notices his jealous alpha gaining weight and helps his mate out. Derek becomes a slob with Stiles loving his size.

He tries so hard to woo his omega. The expensive suits, the impeccably waxed chest, groomed facial hair, the muscles and toned stomach that scream 'I constantly work out', the expensive dinners he takes Stiles to where the portions are pretentious and tiny, the polite, by the book manners....Derek is SURE he is the perfect Alpha. And then they're on a date, Stiles is clearly only politely interested- but then looks up to watch a sweaty guy at the bar, chugging beers, burping, T-shirt rising up his beer gut, and Derek rolls his eyes and thinks 'what a disgusting loser' but the smell of arousal coming from Stiles clearly says something else. Most Alpha's would let it go, accept that Stiles clearly had a different type, and move on. But Derek refuses. Stiles is HIS omega. And he's going to win him over. When Stiles sees that Derek has dropped the gym in favor of hitting up drive thrus, he's 100% romanced and willing to help Derek out. It isn't long before Derek is a ruined Alpha. Stiles has him on a strict diet that's heavy on carbs, sugars, and grease. Derek's appetite balloons along with his figure. His unhealthy diet makes him sluggish, too lazy to get off the couch most days, and in protest of the constant influx of junk food, Derek finds himself getting gassier. Which Stiles only encourages. Tells Derek "let it out. Means you have room for more..." or "Fuck, Derek, you reek" seconds before he's burying his face in Derek's sweaty ass or sinking into his fatpad to find his dick. Derek stops being embarrassed about it. Expensive suits replaced by food-stained T-shirts, sweat stains under his arms and under his heavy moobs. Furry belly and armpits too lazy to bother showering most days, never-mind grooming. Stiles' was too blame for that too. Tells Derek "I love how you smell, my Alpha." and presses himself against Derek's side. (Always when Derek was going to drag himself into the shower, and instead he stayed sitting firmly on his ass next to Stiles, accepting the next mouthful of food). Derek...isn't sure how he feels about himself like this, but he's too drunk and overfed to think about it most of the time. And as long as he has Stiles curled up - he doesn't really care. "W-Whatever ...*uhhnngh*... makesh ...*hahhh*... muh ...*rrrRPPPphh*... ...* pffft *... o-omega ...*bworrRRPPp*... happy."

[perceivedregret]

so it continues

written for @thefreakandthehair lex’s spicy six summer challenge! prompt was hurricane for a ronance centric fic. i'm super excited to be part of my first writing challenge! i hope folks enjoy this stand alone work that's set in the supernatural creatures au i've created. i was super lucky to have the prompt available to help motivate me to complete this idea that's been nagging at me for months. this fic takes place later in the timeline but works well enough on its own. feel free to explore the rest if you'd like, but for now!! have werewolf!nancy and witch!robin

tomorrow is closed (part one of two)

Nancy has this thing with the weather.

She’ll wake up naturally with the rise of the sun by the internal clock, or the damn wolfy-senses as Max likes to begrudgingly call it. Whether or not she got a good night’s rest the night before is besides the point. The habit only calls for a single peek between the blinds, doesn't require more than a squint behind bleary eyes to know what kind of day to expect.

It's become a sort of game for her. Every morning she makes a bet with herself. She tunes in to the local news and weather as she gets ready for the day, waits for weatherman Frank to confirm her guess. 

And today is no different.

Nancy raps her knuckles lightly against the glass of the window as she watches the huddle of birds in the nest. She takes a moment to study the horizon where flashing lights illuminate the shadowy clouds, moments later accompanied by a distant roll of thunder.

Static cuts from the junk radio that sits haphazardly along the edge of her desk and Nancy flinches, the radio's feedback piercing. Fiddling with the knobs she turns down the volume until the hum of music no longer rings harshly in her ears, shifting the station to the local news and weather.

Finding the station is easy, has become an ingrained muscle memory as she only teeters back and forth between the one and the most tolerable music station she could find in college town.

Another display of flashing lights and she celebrates her win preemptively, the room further dimming. It comes in today , she thinks with a knowing grin, fingers sweeping deftly across her lashes and clearing away the sleep.

“Today's the day, huh?"

Nancy jumps at the sudden voice, hand to her chest as she spins towards the source. Robin's head peeks out from behind the door of the bathroom that connects their rooms, the upturned corner of her mouth covered in blue-white foam.

"Dammit, Buckley, you can't keep doing that, the whole…" Nancy motions vaguely between themselves, exasperation apparent in the movement. Somehow Robin smiles around the toothbrush. "It's not fair, this one-sided mind connect… thing ."

"D'as no’ 'ow id wo'ks 'nd– gib muh sec." Robin chokes out, free hand rushing to cup her chin as she tilts her head back. A raised pointer finger is the last thing Nancy sees before Robin disappears behind the door entirely, the sound of Robin spitting and the sink running sneaking through the gap.

Nancy rolls her eyes, the line of her mouth thinning as she tries to hide an endeared grin. She makes her way across her room, quick to comb her fingers through her hair. She knocks once before stepping inside but the door that leads to Robin’s room is shut, the bathroom empty. Nancy takes the opportunity to inspect herself in the mirror before going through her usual routine, not bothering to do too much since classes had already been canceled for the week.

She’s trying to tame the final loose strands of her hair when a loud thud comes from Robin's room, followed by low muttered curses one without superhuman hearing would miss. Nancy considers checking on her, gives up on the flyaways that are at constant war with the humidity and sets the hair clip just above the nap of her neck when Robin’s throat suddenly clears.

“No, it's okay, I’m fine! I’m fine, it’s just, this damn cat,” Robin mutters, followed by another succession of low ushered dammit's.

“Robin, seriously? Get out of my head!”

“Sorry, sorry!”

“No you’re not,” Nancy mutters quietly around a smile, leaning into the sink to collect water in her palm. There was never any real venom behind her words, but this other game she plays demands at least a response.

Like the weather, Nancy has this thing with Robin Buckley. A back and forth, one that Nancy still doesn’t entirely understand but one she enjoys, nonetheless. But like her thing with the weather, this thing with Robin involves a game.

Nancy isn't altogether opposed to the constant intrusion that comes with the mind thing. If she’s honest with herself she finds that she rather enjoys it, delights in the fact Robin has this bit of access to her, this connection.

But if she's honest with herself on this then she'd have to further investigate why she doesn't mind. Why the constant reminder that comes in Robin’s one-sided replies sends a familiar warmth through her. A sense of longing that has itself raveled so snuggly around her it nearly smothers her.

She doesn’t have to dig too deep to know the why. The path to truth is as shallow as the empty faux-graves Hopper and the Suits had dug up for their group back in Hawkins.

Except she isn’t ready to delve into it, not after Steve or Jonathan, especially not after Barb, not yet at least. Robin is too important. After everything, the thought of ruining anything between them, most importantly their friendship, would surely kill her the way the wolf-turned-werewolf bite was meant to do all those years ago.

Instead she hides it, buries it as deep as her heart allows and hopes it's deep enough to ignore and not be uncovered, especially not by the one who is privy to her thoughts and capable of uncovering said truth.

So, Nancy has this thing with the weather and Robin Buckley. Another game, one she's determined not to lose.

Even if she's the only one playing.

Another series of thuds this time accompanied by a disgruntled yowl. Nancy eventually hears the unmistakable click of Robin’s window being unlocked and opened, followed by the scattered footsteps of the stray Robin has been so determined to save.

Satisfied with her reflection Nancy starts to make her way back to her room, now actively making an attempt to be less attuned to all things Robin and her current spout of rambling apologizes. She chances a glance outside where the growing clouds cast a shadow over the adjacent buildings, thinks she sees a white-tipped tail disappear around a corner.

Nancy has tried to befriend the grey-white Manx but her attempts to do so have proved unsuccessful. She hasn’t been able to get closer than a few feet before he’s hissing at her, the fur along his spine and tail puffing up with each spitful warning. It doesn’t help when the werewolf part of her instinctually reacts, eyes flashing a defensive yellow, the bed of her nails going numb as her claws prepare to extract.

She hopes he finds somewhere safe to hide, especially today. The cat would rather brave an incoming storm than share a space that houses four other supernatural creatures and a human witch he barely tolerates. She tries not to think about him getting caught in the coming storm.

At the sound of Robin’s door opening her heart flutters in her chest. She tries vehemently to not think about that either.

"As I was trying to say." Robin sidesteps into the room, the hinges of the door whining as she shuts it with a fuzzy-socked heel. Nancy makes an attempt to not stare as Robin leans heavily against the door.

It was a valiant two second attempt, but an attempt nonetheless.

She can’t help but let her eyes wander when Robin gives her the opportunity. Robin tips her head and her hair falls forward, presenting the crown of her now nearly blonde head that has ever so slightly lightened from the constant Florida sun.

Robin's knees knock together as she sinks against the wall, seemingly trying to make herself small under Nancy’s attention. Nancy’s eyes slowly trail up Robin's exposed legs, still surprisingly pale after all these months, her gaze coming to a stop just before she reaches her face. She takes in the oversized shirt that nearly drowns her frame, one she safely assumes belongs to Argyle for its bright colors and assortment of oddly shaped leaves.

When Nancy’s gaze does finally reach the other girl’s face, she feels her own cheeks flame pink. She doesn't need to be able to read Robin's mind to know she's been made.

Instead of calling her out on it Robin’s smirk shifts, her nose scrunching and her hands coming up defensively in front of her chest. "We've been over this, the mind thing–"

There’s a hint of nerves behind her words. Why? 

"–that's not how it works, Nance. If–"

She didn’t notice, how did she– no, don’t. Stop, don’t think. Don’t think .

Robin's eyes narrow as her mouth snaps shut. Before she can start again Nancy cuts her (and herself) off with a dismissive wave and what she hopes is a reassuring smile, begs her voice to not come out as tightly as her chest feels. 

"I know, you don't have to say it." Nancy directs her attention towards her desk, eyes darting over the mess of her recent project that clutters the surface. "I think of you, I end up in your head, and it makes you think of me. 'If we're both thinking about each other hard enough, we meld ,' or whatever the hell you and Steve used to call it."

“Yes, exactly! Except… no, no, not really. Me and him, that's a little different.” Robin sucks air between her teeth and Nancy looks over her shoulder, watches Robin’s head tilt left and right in consideration. “It’s just a little bit different, we–”

"I know . You two have a back and forth, we don’t. Regardless, it doesn't mean I'm used to you having access to my thoughts."

Cheater she thinks, and this time tries to think it as loudly as she can. She spares a final glance over her shoulder if only to glare teasingly before focusing on opening the lockbox that conceals her gun. A strong gust slaps against her window, the quick flash of lightning making the double action revolver she holds in her hand shine.

A mock offended gasp followed by an incredulously low muttered "I don't cheat, " from behind just barely pulls Nancy's attention. Nancy tries to suppress a chuckle as nimble fingers run over the cold metal, trigger finger aligned with the barrel.

Thumbing the release, she flicks the cylinder out of the frame to inspect the circle of wooden bullets in the chamber. Blowing air through the exposed rear of the barrel, she picks away the splinters of wood that litter the opening.

They're still not as good as Argyle's. Dammit, how does he make them so perfect, I don't– Nancy bites her tongue, uses the sting to try to rein in her thoughts again as she continues to inspect the revolver and the bullets inside.

"Ever the sore loser, Wheeler," Robin sighs as she leans back against the door, still across the room.

"Shut up, no I'm not. Besides, this is different."

"Different how? You against the weather, you against Fred and the school paper–" Nancy winces with a silent rest in peace “–now you against Henry. Well, I guess it's now you against Argyle against Henry.”

"The difference is that this is actually important. If we're ever going to take down Henry and his hounds I need to get just as good, if not better at this. The wrong sigil or the wrong shape and weight of the bullet is life and death, and death is not an option. I need to get this right."

Robin whistles low. Nancy can picture the scrunch of her nose without having to look back. "Okay, yeah, you're right. That– it's different."

I'm always right, cheater, Nancy thinks with a smirk, knows not to speak or else expose her amusement.

"Except I don't cheat, so you're not actually always right. But, honestly, this weather game you've got going on… I don't know Nance, this one feels a little teeny-tiny bit like cheating. The weather man's been talking about this storm all week."

"No! I mean, yes, technically he has, but they're still not sure if it’s going to hit us as a tropical storm or a hurricane. I obviously don’t want it to be anything more than a storm, but my bet is hurricane.

"It's been light showers and tropical storm force winds all week, but today is the day. They’re going to announce it picked up over the Atlantic, you watch. Florida weather is already so unpredictable and–"

As if on queue the emergency alarm system blares through the speakers of her radio and Nancy nearly jumps out of her skin, making Robin cackle.

"Shut up. You know my hearing is different from yours," Nancy mutters around her own fit of giggles, lowering the volume as Frank's static voice cuts through. He announces fervently the list of counties that are under tropical storm advisories, including theirs, urging everyone to begin any last minute prep for the fast approaching storm if they haven't already.

"Tropical storm? What- I was so sure it was going to upgrade overnight. I mean, obviously I’m not saying I want a category five or anything, but not even a CAT one?” Nancy mutters with a pout, turning the volume down to a low buzz.

“I know it’s not the Once in a Lifetime Hurricane you were expecting, but a storm is coming in today. As your unofficial ref, I say you won today’s bet.”

“Yeah okay,” Nancy says with a self-deprecating roll of her eyes, the corners of her mouth slipping into a sheepish grin. It's dumb, I know.

"Nothing you do is dumb, Wheeler," Robin says quietly around a chuckle, her hands rising preemptively in apology. But, Nancy doesn't comment on it, can't bring herself to act peeved at the intrusion, instead allows herself a genuine smile.

Nancy’s amusement is only short lived. She redirects her attention towards the gun still in her hand, knocking the wooden bullets out of the extractor and onto her desk where she rolls one of the crudely carved bullets underneath her fingers, unimpressed by her own work.

Another crack of lightning illuminates the room, this time the accompanying crash of thunder following sooner than it had before. With a resigned sigh Nancy reaches out to change the station, today’s bet against the weather officially over.

Dreams starts sifting through the speakers and Nancy tenses, looks over in time to catch the look that masks Robin's face the moment the song registers. Her fingers are immediately back on the dial.

"It’s okay. You don't have to change it, it's fine," Robin says, voice soft.

Nancy hesitates. "Are you sure? I don’t mind changing it."

"No… I mean, yeah? Shit." Robin mutters. After a moment that feels like an eternity passes her eyes slip shut, a pained wince shadowing her features as Stevie Nick's floaty vocals carry their way around the room.

Nancy's fingers twitch, itching to reach out and turn the radio off all together. Instead she waits, barely flinching at the crack of thunder that seems to shake the entire complex. Robin exhales a shaky breath with another low muttered curse. Eventually she nods, opens her eyes as the instrumental breaks and her gaze immediately locks on Nancy.

Nancy watches as the harsh lines between her brows melt away with the slow guitar bridge, Nancy’s own heartbeat moving with the faster drum beat. Robin takes a shallow breath, steadier, and she clears her throat.

"Honestly, I’ve kinda missed this. It used to drive me absolutely bonkers trying to understand how two complete flower children like my parents could have ended up stranded in a town like Hawkins. I used to dream of life after seventeen, ya know... Bella Donna promised a life of adventure.

"But then I turned seventeen and our lives went to shit... What I’d give to come home and find my mom in the middle of our living room, stoned, dancing to Fleetwood Mac."

Robin sniffs quietly with a quick succession of teary blinks that makes Nancy’s own heart ache as she thinks of her own family back home. She wants to take the steps that will carry her across the room, wants to take Robin's hands in her own, help carry the pain that's all too familiar, to hold her.

She doesn't. She musters up what she hopes is an encouraging smile. Robin grins back, line of her mouth tight before she resigns herself to looking out the window. Nancy takes it with a quick swipe to her nose before she turns back to her desk.

They remain silent for a while.

Nancy goes over the carvings, jotting down notes for later. The only noise that fills the space is the music from the radio, her pen scratching along the paper, and the occasional clank as she snaps the barrel of the revolver in and out of the frame.

They remain content in the quiet as the chorus of thunder continues to crack in the distance.

After some time Nancy turns her head to prop her chin onto her own shoulder. In the safety of shadowed light, she allows herself to look.

Robin is looking out the window, watching the angry dark clouds continue to creep in across the sky. The coming storm casts shadows and light across her face. If Nancy focuses hard enough she can almost see the reflection of it in her eyes.

Heavy rain starts to fall and the room darkens even further, heat from the little bit of sun the day had to offer slowly dissipating. The wind howls and Nancy can only just hear the birds in their nest, their silent chirps nearly hidden behind the sound of the wind as the tree that houses their nest trembles.

"I'm not cheating, by the way."

Nancy speaks suddenly, her voice soft. Robin turns to look at her. When her brows pull together and her lips pout in question Nancy has to look away. She focuses on Robin's hands, her fingers interlocked and laid against her stomach. 

Nancy chokes on a swallow, attempts to hide it with a cough as she turns back to her desk. “Today, the storm. I'm using context clues, taking the hints nature has to offer. It’s Journalism 101. ‘Don’t just ask if it’s raining; go look .’

"You, though, hearing my thoughts with all your witchy magic? That's definitely cheating."

"Fair point,” Robin murmurs with a chuckle. "In my defense, Wheeler, if you don't want me to have access to your thoughts, have you considered…"

Nancy hums when Robin doesn't continue, half focused on cleaning up the mess of her desk. She shuffles note cards of the sigils she's been learning and stacks them neatly atop a book of supernatural studies.

She continues to skim the titles of cut out newspaper articles she's been using to track Henry and his pack as she waits. After no response she shoves them unceremoniously below the pile of neatly handwritten pages dotted with information she's picked up about the hybrids from Argyle.

She's inspecting the edge of her blade when she hums again. A nudge. The other part of her, the most demanding part, is still waiting, reverted to being completely attuned to all things Robin Buckley. She tampers the fluttering in her chest, or at least she tries to as she sets down the dagger and unearths a random article, tries to settle her nerves and focus on the words on the page.

The door creaks as Robin finally pulls herself away from it and Nancy’s stomach swoops as the energy shifts inside the room, mirroring to the torrent that plays outside.

She can hear the pop as Robin pulls on her fingers, the way she shakes her hand out. Robin spins the ring on her thumb as she makes her way across the room with a ghost of a smile on her lips, one Nancy knows is there without having to look back.

Another passing moment and Nancy clears her throat. Have I considered what? She thinks, doesn't trust her voice to not give her away.

"Have you, Nancy Wheeler, considered…" Robin's voice is low, scratchy, and it sends a shiver down Nancy's spine. The articles crinkle in her hands as she makes a desperate physical grab for control of her nerves.

The lights flicker and Nancy shudders. Nancy inhales deeply as Robin approaches from behind. She closes her eyes, sinks into the familiar scent and warmth that washes over.

"Have you considered not thinking about me?" Robin's voice is barely a whisper.

Nancy nods, perfect brows pulling together with a dazed shake of her head because- "Of course I have."

"So, why don't you?"

I can't.

"Why not?"

Because I'm pretty sure I’m in love with you.

part two soon!

[catsartwoah]

Artblog Masterpost!!

Woaahh... somebody scribbled here... ------------------------------------------- Hi hi hi!! This is My (Cat's) side blog for all muh art and junkie junk! If you're lost (L) and looking for my main (W), it can be found at @my-catsface ! ------------------------------------------- Like the description said, I DO take art requests, though these will probably just be little pencil or pen sketches. If you're interested, I DO take commissions! I'll probably edit this post with a caard link or something when I work all that out... for now just dm me if interested I suppose? ------------------------------------------- Tagging System (I add stupid extra tags all the time. These will be consistent)

#catsartwahoo - What ALL of my art will be tagged with! I will probably ramble here about my OC stuff so thats what'll be excluded from this. Use this if you want to only see art and not the blarg!

#digital art - All my digital art! I'm mostly a digital artists so this will be used... a lot...

#traditional art - I do a LOT of school sketches and little doodles, so that's what this will be used for most likely.

#sculpture - Hey hey hi!! I sculpt too!! Really really big polymer clay user, and it's a really fundamental part of me that makes me happy! I probably won't use this one as often as I'd want to, but it's still important and I want it to go here!

#fandom art - This stuff will probably be tagged with separate tags relating to the actual fandom itself tbh #requests - Requests I've taken from others!! #commisions - Ooooo commission time!! This is where you can see all the commissions I've done for other people! I'll make sure to link/shoutout/mention the OG character owner and whatnot on these as well. #cats ocs n worlds - Ohhh the big one. This one might be used a lot too. I am BIG into my own head and my own nonsense, so most of the stuff here will probably be about my own stuff. I'll use this both on the ramblings AND the art of my ocs so use this one if you want both art and text stuff. The current tags that are related to this one are #tales from the Aether RP server and #legion of heroes RP server

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[beevean]

A comparison to how netflixvania could’ve been like Steven universe makes me realize all the missed opportunities the show could’ve had!

They could’ve made Annette the Connie to richter’s Steven! Annette as a representation to the human world richter wants to be a part of, but tragically walks away from!

Annette with a figurative cold heart because she’s got bad experience with the vampire world and junk. And richter just being the sun who burns away the vampire trauma!

Annette with her own sets of friends who know human, non-vampire hunting stuff richter’s unfamiliar or awkward with!

Annette honing her earth powers to ensure she can be the shield who protects richter. Because if the Belmonts are saving humanity from vampires, who’s saving the Belmonts? We could’ve had an awesome offense and defense duo with whips and rocks! Imagine the creativity as their combatative dance forms into their own Stevonnie!!!!

They could’ve made Isaac take drolta’s place by excusing he probably learned magic that makes him live longer, unless that goes against the game’s canon.

Your comparisons between Annette and Connie make me weep because man, I love Connie, I love her character arc, I love how she genuinely became badass and independent while never growing mean or with an attitude 😔 she went from not being able to stand up to herself, to fighting for Steven, to fighting with Steven! and when she has argued with him, it was fair! It wasn't to knock him down because muh female power! She had a multifaceted personality that went beyond "look how badass I am"!

(also since no one can mention annette without bringing up her race, connie is tamil judging by her surname. so see, you can write characters of color without reducing them to stereotypes)

I appreciate your optimism but no, they have clearly shown that they don't want flamboyant sexy men in their show, only flamboyant sexy women, because they're cowards. Isaac as we know him doesn't exist and can't exist in Nocturne. And I sure hope N!Isaac stays dead 🙄

[crybaby-livio]

Nico sneaked up on Livio — luckily he was engrossed doing something at the moment. He gulped. This Livio was big. Really big. But he was determined. With a sly grin on his face, he launched his attack.

❛ Hey, Livio! ❜

Nicholas shouted, as he made a quick dash towards the unsuspecting man, aiming for his head.

Livio is mid-bite of cup noodles, hunched over the spicy junk food like a half-starved dog. His pupils pinpoint at the shout and the movement at his flank.

Turns out that pivoting his torso to protect his noods means leaving his head and neck vulnerable to hands that have always been faster than his.

"Muh habt!"

Hatless and half-bald, he has no choice but to give chase with a mouthful of salty starch, leaving the wax paper cup behind.

[pakeithpsy]

What’s the point in pursuing our passions when none of it even matters?

Nobody cares who you are unless you’re a pre-established big name, you can’t build a following because social media represses actual talent and creatives to shill corporations and spread outrage, YouTube represses good, hardworking people for the tiniest of infractions while playing favorites with megacorps and drama-focused influencers who are allowed to do whatever the fuck they want, and the smaller you are the more powerless you are to stand up to them, the creative industry is a goddamn trainwreck that would rather reboot everything and replace us with AI, and the general public sees entertainment as nothing more than mindless, interchangeable junk food to consume and then forget about.

The only way to make it is to already be successful or wow everybody right out of the starting gate with inhumanly beautiful artwork or animation or a fully-playable, genre-revolutionizing game with gorgeous visuals that either makes AAA tentpole games look like shovelware or has some pretentious faux-philosophical edge because “muh wokeness” or some stupid shit, I don’t know. I don’t play indie games since most of them are just the same exact fake-retro Atari graphics or depressing, pretentious arthouse shit trying to court the Last of Us/Life is Strange audience. Just like how every indie pilot is nothing but setup for potentially exciting stories and adventures but never gets to the actual story part and is mostly just bait to lure in the Hot Topic/Tumblr sexyman crowd and the “ZOMG STORY DRIVEN DRAMA KARTUUNS” who endlessly suck off CN and Disney XD and want more shows in the exact same vein and even visual style. Parker/Stone and J*stin R*iland are lucky to have even been born decades before the turn of the millennium, because NOBODY would ever give Jesus vs. Frosty or Doc and Mharti a passing glance in a post-Hazbin world.

“Indie’s the future!” they all say. “These people succeeded without studios and so can you!” Too bad most of us are just regular people with no cash who live in the middle of nowhere and can’t move out or even hope to compete with all the big names, and with the way studios keep treating artists, pretty soon the days where you could just post a goofy little MS Paint animation on Newgrounds and work your way up from there will be over since all the professionals are forced to resort to independent projects and crowdfunding since the asshats up top need their precious green stuff. We were supposed to be the new generation that would succeed them in the future, instead they’re the ones replacing us because studios only care about money, while NG is just going to be overpopulated and even harder to break into because every other site is locked in this constant contest to see who can fuck up harder and all the top names from there have already monopolized the market for themselves. The rags-to-riches underdog story is completely dead because you can’t do anything when you have nothing, and the playing field has been leveled to unreachable heights.

I don’t even know why I’m bothering to type any of this shit out considering not a single soul on God’s green Earth follows this blog or cares about anything I have to say or even knows I exist. I’ve been posting shit to this accursed internet for over a decade at this point and it’s all lead to jack fucking shit. I’m nothing but another random icon in this vast ocean of garbage and there’s no way out of it. Nobody cares and nobody will help you because everybody’s too busy going goo-goo eyed over the same uber-popular e-celebs who are lucky to have this amazing unteachable talent and connections to important people while the rest of us are just sniveling insects, ignored at best and stepped on at worst, especially if you’re a writer who can only just barely draw. It doesn’t matter how clever, original, or thoughtful your work is, if there aren’t any pretty pictures attached nobody gives a shit. I try and I try and I try and yet nothing ever works. I can’t get better at drawing, I can’t learn how to do any of the things I want to because it’s too overwhelming, I can’t hire anybody to do it for me since I’m an unemployed, broke no-name loser, and none of the billions of people on this miserable blue rock ever notice or comment on the things I create, and even the few who did only cared about the thought of me doing something for them and not any of the shit I actually made. I’m nothing but a fucking joke to this world, and if you’re actually reading this, then you probably are, too.

Everything is fucked and nothing we can do will ever get us any closer to our dreams. What’s the point in even trying anymore when it’s all for nothing? Why live when the things we want to live for just aren’t worth it?

[xerebann]

boo

[matsusreply-blog]

lowkey considering making the entire blog full colour now ngl

[stillsociallysober]

Part 2 Part 1

[da-at-ass]

Muh glands are a heck. Everything's pretty sore and my focus is gone/ADHD is overpresent. Overall, probably won't be very present here until a change in hormones, which will happen. Just takes time.

Overtestosterone symptoms: fatigue, lack of focus, increase in depression and ADHD, increase in paranoia and anxiety. Disruption of sleep cycle. Intense heat in specific areas of body where hormone generation organs are located. Swollen glands, especially around hormone centers. Inflammation increase. Digestive disruption. Aches in joints and knots in muscles from the increase in fluid trying to drain. Difficulty regulating core body temperature. Pain flareups requiring chronic pain management.

Not sure where my body really should be, unsure if I've ever really had it at 'normal.' Will talk further about symptoms and about experience when my language center is feeling more spry and less junked up. Be good people guys.

[creepypastaxmales]

Hidden (Ticci Toby/Reader)

Warnings: NSFW

Words: 2,757

You felt anxiety fill you as you trekked through the woods, the sound of fauna crunching underneath your shoes just put you more on edge. You chewed on your already chapped lips, wondering why you were even out here in the first place.

"Come on, you scared, princess?" You flushed at the memory, that had pissed you off. You were no princess, not even a prince, yet you found yourself accepting the challenge. You were sure he was nuts, he hadn't spoken to you in a few weeks then he suddenly turns up and asks you to go to the area where everyone disappears?

Not to mention ditching you the moment you turned your back, you could see the sun beginning to set in the distance. A cold feeling filled your body, you rubbed your hands up your arms to try and sooth yourself however it hadn’t helped much.

You wanted to call out his name yet you feared he wouldn’t be the only one to hear you, there were countless stories piling up about people disappearing in here, hell some where even snatched right out of their bed. You shivered at the thought, screw him if he wanted to die out here he had that right but you wouldn’t. 

The idea of some psychopath standing over you with a knife was enough to turn you sheet white and get your heart pumping. You turned tail and started walking back the way you came, at least you thought you were. Somehow it all looked different, you shook your head. That was impossible it was just your mind freaking out at the different angle. 

You froze, the blood running through your veins suddenly felt ice cold. You looked around, doing a complete 360 on yourself yet spotting no one. You took a few breaths, it must’ve been your imagination. You continued on the way you thought would get you out of the creepy forest. 

The feeling of impending doom slowly filled you, despite your best efforts to shake it off it felt like someone was watching you. Pretty closely too. You hugged yourself, hoping to bring some comfort to yourself. 

You stopped upon hearing another set of steps, it sounded like they were right behind you. You quickly spun around only to see no one in sight. Your breathing was coming out ragged, anxiety squeezing at your heart. “I swear to fucking god. This isn’t fucking funny, Mark.” You shouted out your friends name, feeling your anxiety turn into anger. 

Turning back around you stomped off, wishing more than anything you had told the arrogant asshole to fuck off. You wished you were at home, sat on the couch surrounded by junk food and playing some games. The thought of getting back and curling up with a controller kept your speed up. 

Too lost in your thoughts to hear the footsteps running up behind you until the owner had slammed into you, immediately pinning you down to the forest floor. You let out a cry, the impact took your breath away. You felt twigs and rocks scrape against your exposed flesh, hands more than likely cut up.

You struggled under whoever was on top of you, unfortunately they seemed to have a height and weight advantage. More like they felt pretty strong, he held you down with one hand between your shoulder blades. His legs caging your hips in, you felt like the canary the cat had just finally caught. 

“At least let me see who kills me.” You growled out, you wanted to see who it was so you could get some revenge in the afterlife, if there was one. A deep chuckle was heard above you. “Fi-ne, I’d prefer se-seeing the fear take over-er your face.” He seemed to stutter every now and then, you jumped feeling his hand tighten on your back and push you down. His hips suddenly jolting forward and grinding harshly against your ass, he also produced a loud noise that sounded like a twig snapping in half.

You couldn’t stop the gasp that left you, your face flushed and he flipped you onto your back. You looked up to see the wildest chestnut brown hair you had ever seen, he pulled his goggles back. They revealed the coldest brown eyes you’d ever seen, it was like they were completely devoid of light. He had deep purple bags under his eyes, almost as if he hadn’t slept in months. But that was impossible, he must barley sleep. 

His skin was almost translucent, the moon that now had started raising above the skyline reflecting almost off his skin. You found yourself shaking underneath him, you didn’t really want to die. He tugged his mask down, his lips were tugged slightly downwards. You could see a slight stubble graving his chin from the angle you were at.

Your eyes ran down from his face to his body, he was covered by a khaki green jumper with striped arms and a blue hood. You noticed two blood stained hatchets at his hips, you gulped feeling your Adams apple bob.

His legs were covered by ripped up bloody grey jeans, threading sticking everywhere out of holes that almost looked like knife slashes. The only word that came to your mind after taking in the guy was that he was definitely a killer.

A sudden crack and his head being thrown to the side had you wide eye’d and staring at him. He smirked at you. “I have toure-ettes.” You just nodded then gulped, remembering the hatchets and blood. “Please, don’t kill me.” You couldn’t help the shaky way the words poured out, your heart felt like it was about to explode any moment.

He titled his head, his dead eyes appeared to take you in for a moment. You suddenly felt shyness fill you, turning your head away and attempting to curl in on yourself with little to no luck.

You curiously took another glance at his face only to catch his eyes, his face covered by a smirk. “How muh-much is your life wor-rth? What ar-re you wil-willing to do?” Despite the stuttering his smirk was still full of confidence, even something in his eye’s seemed to have changed. 

You bit your lip, tugging on a peace of ragged skin. “Anything.” You spoke, if he wanted money you would give him every last penny you had. “How ab-bout you let me fuck y-you?” Your face flushed red, Toby letting out a chuckle, seemingly pleased with your reaction. 

You looked at his eyes, not managing to hold the contact for long before your pupils quickly darted away. He wasn’t bad looking, rather he was pretty cute. “Okay.” He grinned, quickly leaning down to press his lips to yours. His lips were pretty chapped, you would even say extremely bitten. 

You began moving against his lips, trying to follow his lead. Being gay wasn’t exactly new to you, but human contact sure was. He pulled away, his hands grabbing you up and pulling you into his chest. You flushed, he stood almost a head taller than you. 

He pressed your lips back together, hands coming to land on your hips while yours grasped desperately to his jumper, hoping to ground yourself a little. His hands suddenly pulled away from you before returning and leaving a sting behind. The sound of a sudden smack had your lips opening, letting out a whine at the burn, giving Toby the opportunity to stick his tongue in your mouth, quickly exploring around.

You didn’t bother fighting him, instead submitting yourself to him by relaxing against him. He suddenly broke away. “I kne-ew you’d li-ike it.” His grin was almost wolfish. You felt heat build up in your abdomen, it felt like there were small pangs going off in your stomach.

Every time Toby’s fingers began to dip under your shirt and apply pressure to your hips your stomach would leap. Despite it being night and being outside you felt extremely warm, Toby’s body heat drew you in. He was unnaturally warm. 

You couldn’t help but let out a moan every so often, it seemed like you had been kissing forever before he pulled back. Your mouth dropped a little to allow you to huff and pant, your hand coming to wipe the drool off your chin before Toby’s hand knocked it away.

Your eyebrows furrowed in question as you looked up at him, your hair a mess and cheeks covered in pink. Toby bit his lip, he never had a victim he had wanted to fuck before. He had the occasionally hook up with some random from a nightclub whenever Masky would drag him out, but he had never really found those people that attractive.

The sight currently in front of him had him harder then he had ever been in his life, his thoughts filling up with ways to take you, make you his. He felt almost feral, a part of him wanting to lock you away and keep you all to himself. 

He ignored those thoughts, hands sliding up along with the smaller boys shirt and jumper until the boys chest was exposed. Toby grinned, licking his lips before attaching them to one of your nipples. You tried to jolt back but Toby’s hands stopped you, they wrapped around your biceps and he used his thumbs to keep your shirt and hoodie up.

You couldn’t stop the little gasps and moans that poured from your lips, jumping every time Toby would pull back only to swirl his tongue around the sensitive bud. After a few moments it began to feel like too much, letting out a small cry of overstimulation. 

Toby laughed against your chest, keeping latched on for another few seconds before switching. You jumped and let out a gasp as the wind blew against your nipple, your eyes widening. You shook in Toby’s grasp while he gave the other nipple the same treatment, you nearly cried when he pulled away, the wind blowing against your already overstimulated nipples was almost too much.

He caught you off guard by pushing his fingers into your mouth, you let out a questioning moan around his fingers. You could feel the pads of his fingers rub gently against the back of your tongue, triggering your gag reflex. You would jolt and make a choking noise every time his fingers went too far down the back of your throat.

You tried your best to stay still and let him do whatever it was he was planning. His fingers suddenly left your lips, Toby took a second to take in the expression you wore. It was easy to see what he was doing to you, the drool that had dribbled down your chin while Toby had been finger fucking your mouth was definitely a pretty sight.

You’d look even prettier with Toby’s come all over that pretty face. Toby didn’t bother concealing the dark look that crossed his features. The boy had probably already seen his little friends blood covering him, he had no reason to hide anything now. 

Toby’s hands ran back down (Names) hips, instead of stopping their they kept going until they disappeared under the band of (Names) jeans and underwear. Toby let out a groan, taking two handfuls of ass and squeezing which caused you to let out a small gasp, getting pushed closer against the taller boys chest.

You let out a squeak, the feeling of your shirt rubbing against your nipples was almost sore. Toby let out an airy sounding laugh, it chilled you. For some reason you felt as if you weren’t going to die, but you weren’t going to be seeing anyone anytime soon.

You couldn’t find it in you to care once you felt his finger start to rub circles around your hole, you dove further into his chest letting out wreaked sounding moans.

No one had ever touched you there before, it felt nothing like when you had tried it. Back then it had just felt awkward and you had wound up giving up. What had changed now? You turned to face the brunet, looking into those almost manic eyes that seemed to be completely different from the cold, closed off ones you had witnessed earlier.

Was it because this man could kill you? You bit your lip, the thought did excite you. The idea that he could easily snap your neck or something while balls deep in you had you letting out another moan, Toby took it as a signal that he could burry his finger into your hole. 

Your face scrunched up and you let out a yelp, slight pain and discomfort filled you. He began circling his finger inside you, your body tensed as a foreign feeling began filling you. You wanted more, groaning you pushed back onto his digit.

Toby complied, almost too easily sliding in a second digit. Due to your saliva the fingers had little problem plunging into you, beginning to pick up speed. “A-ah!” You gasped out, seeing white as Toby’s finger grazed something deep inside of you. “Bi-ingo.” His voice seemed to deepen, his fingers speeding up and attacking your spot.

You threw your head back, back arching and stomach pressing flat against Toby’s. You suddenly didn’t mind, if he wanted you he could have you. If he took you back with him you didn’t think you’d put up a fight, not if he gave you this feeling.

It felt like something was beginning to build inside of your stomach, the familiar feeling of needing to come filled you. Yet you knew this was going to be the best one you had ever had, your hand not comparing in the slightest to what Toby was doing to your body.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your skull, mouth dropping open in a silent moan. Toby suddenly pulled his fingers out of you causing you to whine at the loss of contact. “Can-n’t get enou-ough huh?” He turned you around and pressed his cock between your cheeks, using his hands to spread your cheeks, the tip of his cock gliding over your hole.

The feeling of his tip catching against you had you moaning, you tried to grind your hips back but Toby’s hands prevented your movement. His finger’s were going to leave bruises, you couldn’t find it in you to care.

“God, please. I need more.” You begged, trying to push him inside. Toby grinned before tightening his grip on you, stopping you moving. You let out a broken sob, before getting cut off with the feeling of Toby’s cock stretching you. You threw your head back against his shoulder, your eyes drooping.

His cock was bigger than you had expected, it seemed to stuff you full. You swore you felt him hit your stomach once he was fully buried into you. All you could do was finish the moan that you had started. 

You found your body relaxing back against him, his arms coming up to wrap around you. Holding you close to him, you gripped onto his arms for leverage as he started an almost brutal pace. The feeling of his cock almost disappearing out of you only to slam back deep into you was mind blowing. 

You felt like you could go crazy from the feeling of him filling you up alone, never mind the feelings that swarmed you once his lips attached to your neck. He sucked big dark bruises into your flesh, he wanted everyone to see them.

His cock brushed against your g-spot and you shouted, probably alerting everyone in a ten mile radius but you couldn’t care. Toby easily manoeuvred you how he wanted, you felt like a ragdoll in his arms. Your brain couldn’t keep up, your thoughts melted away and all you could do was call out Toby’s name and moan. 

You could feel yourself getting close, it felt like a tsunami was approaching and all you could do was hang limp against Toby. “I-I’m gonna.” You cut yourself off with a loud moan, your loading shooting out. You fell back, boneless against Toby, thankful for his strength because you didn’t think you could stand.

The feeling of you tightening around Toby’s cock had him coming deep inside of you, you let out a weak groan at the feeling of his come coating your insides. “Mine.” He muttered, his words serious and laced with possessiveness. You nodded against him, feeling your eyelids start to close.

[bard-owl]

If we supported more local craftsmen, nice things wouldn't cost so much. A regional market of thriving small businesses increases demand and thus volume allows modest growth. And combined with healthy competition allows for innovation and a significant reduction in end price.

Ever read old books and stories set in old times and wonder how people had such nice things? Skilled labor used to make many, many things either from scratch of with a few key components sourced from other shops. Their customers could not afford to replace cheap junk and demanded a certain level of quality. The market determined a price that was generally fair for all those involved.

And this isn't some "hurr durr, muh trades" rant, I'm talking about a multi industry shift that happened globally.