#you know who you are. dont know if you know who i am

[tgcg]

hey guys. this is smth i have been thinking abt doing for a while but tonight i decided 4reel. i'm gonna put the blog on a kinda indefinite hiatus.

things have rlly changed for me & my life, & i need other things to change as well. i dont wanna divulge like... all my shit ere. but i just wanna say thanx to everyone who ever left a reply, kind message, fun ask, even just a like.

the kind of reception this blog got was totally beyond anything i coulda expected. i am still rly floored by it, u guys kindness & generosity. i'm rlly glad i could entertain you all and do right by these 2 guys.

i had so much fun here. making scripts & drawing them out. it's smth i have truly never experienced before & doubt i ever will anywhere else except this here blog. that was truly down to you guys & your enthusiasm and it'll never leave me. like, shit, getting dubs of my comix? fucking insane.

dk has been rly important to me for a rly long time. i became a fan of it over a decade ago. ive talked on da blog before about why i like em so much... so i'll just say here that i also don't rlly think these guys will ever leave me either. i think they were kinda a permanent mark on my development as a person. u can put me so so far away from hs & i'd still express that fondness for em deep down. they're a rlly great duo & i can't say at all that this decision is due to a lack of interest. love u dk <3.

for now i'm just gonna leave the blog as is, but in the future it may become p-word protected, who know... i'm not a fan of creating lost media since archiving obscure shit is a hobby of mine, so... we will "C"...

i'll still be hovering around over at @cgtg. i rlly like doing pwyw requests over there so i can flex my mspaint muscles and give u guys fun stuff. currently those are closed, but yea if ur interested you can drop a follow there & i'll say when they're open. no pressure to run over there tho. i understand that plenty were here for the dk's and i get that.

i might not be leaving this blog alone for good, & i think that's worth stating. who knows what will happen in da future? we're here right now & i'm very glad to have been here *until* now.

pls always have fun, do what you want forever, be kind, & take care. remember above all that youtube is where the poop is.

thanks for hanging out with me. love u all.

-randy tgcg 🙂

[therosielord]

I am not an addict but struggling with mental health has made me gain SO much empathy for addicts because yeah, I get it. I understand what it feels like when you’re in so much agony, whether that’s physical or emotional, that you would do literally anything to stop the pain. I know what it feels like to not feel happiness for weeks on end and turn to substances because you’re desperate for tiniest shred of dopamine.

HEALTHY PEOPLE DONT BECOME ADDICTS. This is something I wish more people understood. You don’t become addicted to something that can hurt you unless you are deeply unwell, whether that means that you’re chronically ill, mentally ill, or just dealing with severe trauma. People become addicts because they’re self medicating for something serious.

Sometimes people become homeless because they’re addicts, but it usually works the other way round. Being homeless is psychological torture, so people turn to anything that will relieve the misery of their daily existence. Tell me, if you spent every day hungry and cold and scared, never felt safe when you slept at night, had no reliable way of taking a shower, and barely had any posessions, would you want to face that life while sober? People get so angry at homeless people buying drugs or alcohol, but are you sure you wouldn’t do the same if it could buy you just a couple hours where you didn’t feel miserable?

And withdrawal is no fucking joke. I’m on meds that have serious withdrawal symptoms and one time I couldn’t get my meds for a few days and I swear I felt like I was dying. Everything hurt. I felt like I was on fire. All I could do was writhe in my bed and cry. My mom had to call the pharmacy for me to get emergency meds because I couldn’t talk without sobbing. I plan on going off these meds some day but I know it will have to be a very long and gradual process with a doctor overseeing my health, so I can’t understand why people would ever be against the same process for people addicted to illegal drugs. This is why safe injection sites are so important. This is why hospitals give patients alcohol sometimes.

It’s not like I didn’t have compassion for addicts before all this, but fucking hell, I have a million times more now. I have all the makings of an addict and I’m lucky enough that my addictions are things like video games and social media instead of heroin. But that’s all it is, luck. I’m not morally superior to anyone who falls into substance abuse. None of us are. Please have empathy. Addicts are victims, they’re in pain, and they need help. Not “tough love” but actual HELP.

it's just really fucking frustrating that we live in a world where I grew up being trained to believe that addicts are unloveable. and then I became an addict and I was still told that addicts are unloveable. and I just have to deal with the fact that there are people out there who believe that I don't deserve love, or that my partner is brave for loving me, or that my family and friends are suffering just from me existing. and that's fine that's just the way it is

but then on top of that. I have to deal with tumblr users telling me (an addict!!!) that they hate addicts in a cool new way that I should be totally sympathetic towards. see, they had a family member who was the most evil person on the planet! and that family member was an addict! so they can't help the fact that they now want all addicts to die! they can't help it! blast them all.

[mooonjin]

Reminiscing

Notes: BLESS THE SECOND SEASDON OF ARCANE OH MY DAYS HES SO GOIREGOSUSSSSSS can u tell viktor is my fav :3

Pairing: Viktor x gn!reader

Summary: Years ago you and Viktor had parted ways, and for good reason. It was no longer about science to him but evolution. But evolution is the future? So why was Viktor dwelling so much on the past?

Warnings/Tags: 16+ because its bit suggestive so shooooo - tin/machine viktor, SLIGHT submissive viktor, SLIGHT submissive reader (hopefully its pg enough), swtiching, exes, trying to get back together (oof dont do that), suggestive innuendoes, touchy feely mentions — tell me if I've missed anything!

It had been years since you last saw Viktor, yet the memory of your parting remained etched into your mind like a wound that refused to heal. You remembered the way his gaze had shifted, once warm and full of curiosity, now cold and unyielding. His obsession with the Glorious Evolution consumed him entirely, leaving little room for anything—or anyone—else in his life. 

He spoke in absolutes, his words more like calculations than sentiments. You watched helplessly as the person you once knew vanished piece by piece, replaced by a man driven by a vision far beyond your grasp.

The day you walked away was devastating. You hoped, perhaps foolishly, that he might pause, might see the toll his ambition was taking on everything he once held dear. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Viktor had chosen his path and you had no choice but to choose yours.

In the years that followed, his name became a distant echo, carried to you only by the occasional whisper of rumours. Tales of the Machine Herald, a figure deemed a God, filtered through the shadows of the world. You heard of his relentless march toward perfection, but not once did he cross your path. Not once did you imagine he would.

Until tonight.

The moment you flicked on the light in your living room, your heart stopped, the air leaving your lungs in a rush.

Someone was there.

Seated in your armchair like they owned the place, their silhouette sharp against the glow of the lamp. You froze, instincts screaming at you to run, to fight, to do anything but stand there rooted in place. For a moment, they said nothing and neither did you. The stillness stretched thin.

Then, their voice cut through the tension like a blade, calm and deliberate.

“We need to talk.”

Your chest rises and falls erratically, the sound of your ragged breathing filling the heavy silence around you. He stays where he is, his presence is unnervingly calm. The dim light catches the gleam of his golden eyes. It feels alive, almost predatory, as it fixes on you. 

“Are you done gasping for air?” he asks after a long moment, his voice gripped with impatience. The words slice through the room as if your panic were little more than an inconvenience.

“What the hell—who are you? Get out!” you exclaim, your voice raw and trembling with a mixture of fear and adrenaline. Your fists clench at your sides, your body tense and coiled, ready for a fight or flight you haven't yet decided on. Your eyes dart around the room, searching for something—an escape, a weapon, an explanation—anything that could make sense of the stranger sitting so calmly in your home.

The figure doesn’t flinch, doesn’t react to your outburst. Instead, he remained perfectly still.

“You know who I am,” he replies, his voice distorted by the rough mechanical overlay of the mask he wears. The silence stretches taut, heavy with tension, his lack of movement somehow more menacing than any action could be.

Then, with a faint whir and the soft ‘shing’ of metal, he shifts slightly. The purple artificial muscles in his left arm flex beneath the layers of metal, “And there’s no way I’m leaving until we’ve spoken."

He leans forward in the chair. You take a step back, your foot catching slightly on the edge of the rug, but you don’t dare look away from him. Another step, then another, the distance between them never feeling like enough. 

You stumble slightly as your heel brushes against the wall, your retreat halted. You were trapped between the hard surface behind you and the immovable figure in front. 

Yet he doesn’t rise. He doesn’t chase. He simply watches.

With a deliberate motion, he takes a step forward, and another, closing the space between you with ease. Panic rises in your chest, but before you can react, he’s there, leaning over you. His body is so close, trapping you between himself and the walls of your home.

“You’ve changed,” he remarks after a long pause as he regards you like an old friend. His eyes narrow slightly, taking in every detail of your appearance. 

“You look… softer,” he adds, his tone flat and dismissive, as if this change in you is something that doesn’t sit right with him. You don't miss how mechanical his voice sounds.

“Who... are you?!” The words escape in a rush. Your voice shakes, betraying the fear that is starting to creep up your spine. Who is he? Why does he feel so familiar, and yet so... wrong?

There’s no trace of recognition, no warmth in the air, just cold steel and the distant hum of something supernatural beneath his skin.

His fingers graze your skin lightly before gently grasping your chin, the coldness of his touch like ice. His grip is firm but there’s an unsettling gentleness to it. He tilts your face upward, forcing you to look into his eyes. 

You can feel the weight of his touch and yet, it feels like it’s not just physical. It’s invasive, as though he’s reaching inside, probing for something. Your neck feels exposed, your breath catching slightly as your body instinctively tenses. 

There’s nothing soft, nothing human about his stare. It’s all too alienated, too distant. The faint hum of his prosthetic arm seems to vibrate through the air, a constant reminder that whatever—whoever—this is, it isn’t entirely human anymore.

He leans in slightly, his head tilting to one side, as if pondering the absence of recognition in your expression.

His mask doesn’t convey anything, “You really don’t recognise me?” His tone carries an edge of disbelief, as though it’s almost unthinkable that you wouldn’t. He shifts his weight slightly, but his grip doesn’t loosen, his fingers still lightly holding your chin.

“Take your mask off!” your voice firmer now, though it trembles with the intensity of your frustration. The metallic distortion of his voice only makes it worse, the mechanical overlay making everything feel distant. He’s not any person you could remember, not even close.

He raises an eyebrow at your demand, "Very well," he mutters, his voice still tinged with that mechanical rasp but there's an odd calmness in it now. He pulls it free and it’s as if a veil is lifted from the air. 

What lies beneath the mask is a face you know all too well, yet so different from the last time you saw it. His features are gaunt, sharper than you remember, as if the years have carved something out of him.

His skin is pale, almost ghostly under the light. There’s no mistaking it. His eyes, though shinier, still carry a familiarity that hits you like a wave. It’s him. The man you once knew—his face, his expression, the very essence of the person he was, buried beneath the mask and the years.

For a moment, you just stare at him, speechless. He’s right in front of you now.

Real. Yet he feels like a ghost, like a shadow of the man you once knew.

"… What happened to you?" 

It’s the first thing that comes to your mind and it seems to carry the weight of everything that’s changed, everything that has shifted between the two of you over the years. 

You stare at him, your gaze traveling over the sharp angles of his face, the hardness in his eyes. This isn’t the person you once knew, the person you once trusted and once loved.

The question seems to amuse him, “What happened?” He echoes back to you, his voice ringing with that familiar accent of his. A humorless smile twists at the corner of his lips, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. The smile is dull, "Piltover happened," he adds, as if the mere name of the city is enough to explain everything.

"What happened," he says again as a growl now, “is that Zaun was cast aside—ignored, neglected, abandoned.”

His words hit you. Zaun. That forgotten, broken city that had always been on the edges of Piltover’s gilded perfection. The place that had been swallowed up by the ambitions and the indifference of those who held power.

The place where everything was left to rot, "So I made the city better, myself." His voice is steady, but there’s a dangerous edge to it now.

“And now Piltover is afraid.” 

Before you can even react, he reaches up with a swift, practiced motion, placing one hand on the wall beside your head. His fingers splayed wide, as though he owns the very space you’re standing in. 

“And you?” he asks, his voice dropping even lower, laced with taunting amusement. The question hangs in the air, thick with challenge, daring you to respond. “Are you afraid of me?”

It’s a question loaded with intent, the kind of question that isn’t meant to be answered, but to make you feel small. However there’s something else in his voice, something... hungry. His words aren’t just a challenge, they’re a test, a way for him to gauge whether or not you see the change in him. 

There’s a part of you that wants to deny it, to pretend he’s still the person you once knew, but the truth is right in front of you. This is not the same Viktor.

“You’re not a person,” you’re not sure if he can hear the quiet desperation in your voice as you speak. But as his gaze locks with yours, the chilling look in his eyes seems to confirm what you fear most. Whatever humanity once existed in him is long gone, replaced by something far more dangerous.

He’s not a person. Not anymore.

“That’s the first thing you’ve said that isn’t obvious,” he sneers, his voice dripping with disdain, “I’m as human as you, if not more so,” he rasps, his words cutting through the space between you with confidence.

There’s a hum in his voice, a certain finality in his tone. “I still have a soul—a heart. One that beats just for you.”

His claim is so absurd, so twisted. A heart that beats just for you? He sounds like he believes it, like he truly believes that his obsession, his transformation, was somehow a sacrifice made for you. 

His hand on your chin tightens and you can’t help but flinch. Here he is, speaking of love and devotion as if those words still carry any meaning. As if you’re supposed to believe him. 

“No, we parted years ago.” The statement feels heavier than you expected. His expression flickers, ever so slightly, the faintest crack in his demeanor. The bitter smirk that had curled his lips falters for just a second before settling back into place.

“We did,” he says, a blend of mockery and intimacy. He pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes. The corner of his lips quirks into a sly, humorless smirk. “I always parted you… in bed, that is.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line as if holding back the sharp retort you wanted to hurl at him.

He laughs again, this time his chuckle is dark and deep, “You remember that, don’t you?” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous hiss. “You remember how I used to make you scream,” he says, the statement suggestive as it sounded. 

His smile widened, the curve of his lips taking on an unsettling mix of nostalgia, “I’d drop to my knees for you,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth. “Anytime, anywhere… begging you to touch me, just where I needed you most.” His eyes burned into yours. 

His hand finally released your chin, the absence of his grip almost startling. But he didn’t pull away. Instead, his fingers trailed down your neck in a slow motion, the touch lingering just enough to make your skin prickle. When his hand slid around your waist, the shift in contact was seamless.

“You didn’t just take my heart when you left me,” he continued, his voice softening into a purr that sent a shiver down your spine. “You broke it.” Viktor whispered. His lips quirked upward again, but this time, the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“You know why we split,” you say, your eyes narrowing as you force yourself to meet his gaze, despite the suffocating proximity.

"Always in the lab,” he murmurs, his voice softening slightly, but the growl lingers beneath the surface, ready to rise again. “Late into the night, always trying to find a new way to reach the Glorious Evolution.” His lips curl into a faint, humorless smirk, as though mocking himself as much as the memory of his relentless drive. “Always chasing perfection… and always losing sight of everything else.”

His fingers continue their slow, deliberate path down your body. His hand finally reaches the edge of your shirt, pausing there for the briefest of moments before grabbing it and lifting it slowly.

The fabric drags against your skin, exposing your chest inch by inch. His gaze flickers down, and a faint smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. 

“You really are soft now,” he murmurs, "so soft."

You grimaced, "Stop it."

“Why?” He asks, his fingers moving even further down, sliding over the top of your thighs. “You don’t like it when I touch you?”

You instinctively swat his metal hand away but the moment your hand meets the hard, surface of his prosthetic, a sharp jolt of pain runs up your arm. You winced in result. 

He grabs your wrist in a sudden, forceful motion, his fingers tightening with a painful grip, “Don’t do that.” He says, a warning tone in his voice. “Don’t swat at me like I’m some filthy little pest, when you used to kiss my hands like I was your god.”

"You're no God." You try to pull your wrist free, but his grip doesn’t budge.

“I’ve never stopped wanting you.” He says, leaning down to bury his face in the side of your neck. Viktor lets go of your wrists and instead pushes himself between your legs, pinning you to the wall with his body.

“I thought of you when I was supposed to sleep.” He purrs, his voice soft and rough in your ear. “I thought of you when I woke up.”

Then, with a deliberate movement, his body shifts closer, and you can feel the undeniable pressure of him grinding against you, pushing you harder into the wall. “I thought of you when I was desperate.” 

Viktor's lips are close to your ear, his breath warm and unsteady as he speaks again, this time with a cruel twist. "You don’t even know, do you? How much I’ve ached for you." His words hang in the air. 

“I thought of the way you looked back then.” He says, one of his hands trailing back down, grabbing your thigh and wrapping it around his waist. “When I still had you…”

He presses close to you, his hips pushed firmly against yours and his body close enough that you can feel the heat from his body against your skin. “How your skin used to taste…..”

“...You need to leave, Viktor.” You murmur. He leans in just a fraction closer, his lips curling into a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. There’s no amusement there. 

“Oh, I’ll go.” He says, his lips tracing a path over your neck, leaving a trail of soft kisses over your skin.

“But not until we’ve caught up.” He lets go of your hair, one hand grabbing your thigh to keep your leg wrapped around his hip, while the other goes to your shirt, grabbing hold of the material once more.

“Maybe we should start with a little… reminiscing.”

- 

Post Notes: lol i want to make another part but wioth smut oopsise!!!!!!!!!!!! viktor is eating my brain rn

~ ~ ~

my taglist form!

[the-californicationist]

hi cail! this is sizzleee2 from another account 😅 i was wondering if you could possibly make a fic with anyone from tf141 with fem!reader who immediately after sex feels asexuel and gets a little distant, doesnt need aftercare because shes never had any and then finds out how good aftercare feels??? idk, if you dont want to then no pressure! you r just my favourite writer and i love to read your fics!!

-sk0 <3

I’m slowly making my way through my ask box, and you probably forgot about this but I didn’t! lol 😂 I don’t think I fulfilled this request though. Epic fail on my part. Aftercare?? Maybe. If you squint. I’m so sorry. I just got too horny for Gaz. Forgive me? 🩷🩷

TW: female reader, the expected amount of Kyle sass (see gif)

——— MDNI ———

Tethered

—

The skin-searing warmth of his body left you as he finished, falling away and leaving you cold and lonely. The air of the room rushed across your skin, reminding you that he was done with you. He’d used you, and much like the tarred end of a smoked cigarette, you were filthy, you were wet and sticky from his mouth, and you were no longer smoldering from his burning affection. You had been savored and snuffed out, and that was that.

As soon as his heavy frame rolled off of you, you flung the sheet away and darted into the bathroom, ready to be clean again.

You wished you could be like those girls in the movies; the ones who curled around their emptied lovers, laying her head upon his chest, letting him squeeze and fondle her as he dozed, playing in the sweaty mess of her hairline, skirting his brutish fingers along the slope of her brow.

But you weren’t. You were something else. You weren’t sure exactly what, but your past partners had called you all sorts of things. Low-maintenance. Easy-going. Little Miss Quickie.

“Hey,” the door to the bathroom was wrenched open, and in the dark portal of its frame stood your most recent conquest: Sergeant Kyle Garrick, scowling down at you.

He was still naked, as were you, and now that the sparkling fire of your pleasure had been extinguished, it was less exciting and more practical than it should’ve been. Sure, the heavy musculature of his neck and shoulders were still beautifully aggressive. The broad span of his chest was yet as inviting as it had been at the bar last night. The deep v-cut of his Adonis belt was just as tantalizing, particularly when it lead to a softer, shinier, well-used cock, still dripping desire from its gleaming slit.

“What?” You asked, turning to face him, your washcloth in hand.

“Where’d you go? I’m not done,” he asked.

As Gaz stepped forward into your space, you turned to give him your back, watching him in the mirror, feeling and seeing his enormous arms curling around your shoulders and belly like a giant kraken, ready to pull you back into the sea of his bed.

“You felt done to me,” you shrugged, continuing to wash your face, “Was it not good for you?”

The incredulous look in his eye froze you to the spot, and the suds of your soap foamed and popped across your cheek as you waited for his reply.

He pulled himself away, unwinding himself like ribbon from a spool, slipping through you like sand through loose fingers.

“It was proper brilliant. You know it was. You were there,” he laughed, a hint of bitterness tinging the edge of his mirth, “Am I wrong, babes?” Then, his timbre darkened with a quiet uncertainty, “Am I wrong?”

“No,” you turned to face him, wiping your cheek clean, “It was really nice. It’s not you. I’m just usually Ubering home by now.”

You raised your eyebrows at him, pushing back. But he didn’t shy away. He smiled, almost knowingly, as if he expected you to say as much.

“Not much of a cuddler, is that it?” He smiled a bit wider, reaching his arms around you cautiously, waiting for you to pull away again.

You shook your head, and he held your chin in one of his large fists, lifting you up to face him. He studied you, looking into your eyes as if trying to see your mind working away behind them,

“Want me to show you how?”

You met his gaze, and you didn’t know what expression you wore on your face. It was hard to even describe the emotion you were feeling, much less name it. But, when he looked down at you, he seemed to know.

Gaz grabbed your hand in his and dragged you over to the large shower behind him. He turned the water on hot and coaxed you inside. For a few moments, you thought it may be too warm for you to stand it, but as your skin became accustomed to the steam and the heat, you felt your body relax. He didn’t bother with soaping you up or washing your hair; he simply held you against him, your head tucked into his chest, shadowed by his hulking form, covering you in the oppressive warmth of his affection and the pouring water. It flooded your senses, and you felt yourself becoming more pliant to his whims, more open to suggestion, blooming under his touch like a reluctant bud, afraid of the bite from the frost you knew too well.

Because this wasn’t forever. He’d say goodbye eventually. You’d feel the sting of loneliness one way or another. Better to rip the bandage off now and get it over with. Right?

“Hey, come back,” he held your jaw in his strong fingers, making you meet his eyes again, “That’s it. Stay with me, baby. You don’t need to go anywhere. Don’t need to do anything. Just be here, right now, with me. I’ve got you.”

You didn’t know why, but you rejoiced to hear those words. There was something in the way he insisted, something in the comfort of his steady, unhurried embrace that allowed you to melt down into his arms.

When he began to rub you down, chasing the rivulets and currents of the cascading water, you didn’t feel rushed. There was no urgency. He fondled you and caressed you; he squeezed your soft breasts in his palms, but he wasn’t after an orgasm - not yours nor his. He just wanted to touch you.

You felt his hand find your tender pussy, his fingers stretching their way into your hole, still sore from taking his challenging length, still slick from the sticky mixture of your come.His fingertips pressed inside of you, and it was his turn to sigh, his body relaxing into yours, warm to his bones from how joyful he felt at being so welcomed into your hot core.

Pressing your head into his chest, you let yourself live in the moment. You were allowing yourself to be in this steamy limbo with him, feeling him as he was feeling you and yet in no rush to the finish line.

“I’ve got you, babes,” he kissed your forehead, pushing into your cunt even deeper, rocking rather than thrusting his hand against you, letting you grind your hips into the heel of his palm, “I don’t wanna stop. But, if you —“

You shook your head, and even though you weren’t looking at him, you felt him smile. You whispered into his chest,

“It’s alright. We don’t have to stop.”

“Come back to bed with me, then,” Gaz demanded gently, his voice holding a stronger challenge than it had before, steeled by your precarious consent.

You looked up at him, unsure if you could give him what he wanted, but you were willing to try.

You nodded, and he flipped off the water, reaching out of the door to wrap you in a big towel. You watched him dry off quickly before leading you back to bed. He climbed in before you, turning back the duvet, giving you a shadowy little burrow to stuff your body into. You turned away from him, your back to his chest. You held your breath in your lungs still for a moment, wondering and waiting, but once you felt his skin on your skin, you could relax again.

Reaching behind you, you found his hard prick and guided it so that he would slip between your legs, nestled right below your lips, curving through your chubby thighs and up against your mons. The trembling sigh that came from his throat as his cock slotted itself into place lit a fire in your chest again, reigniting the once-cold embers.

He thrust himself against you, testing the waters, waiting for you to reject his advances, but you canted your hips, letting the wetness of your hole glide against the body of his cock, licking him like a mouth as he rutted between your legs. His tongue was on your neck, his hands were on your breasts and belly, his scent invaded your nose; he was everywhere. You didn’t have a chance to second-guess yourself or your smoldering excitement because he was like the steam from his shower; he suffocated your doubts with his desire.

“That’s my good girl,” he muttered against your kiss-bitten flesh, “Use her on me like that. Just like that.”

Gaz reached down to cup your mons, his fingers cradling his head each time he fucked his cock against your folds, keeping it pressed into the slit of your wet quim, nudging your clit every time he shoved himself forward. You helped him, rocking your hips back and forth, matching his rhythm, listening to the soaked, milking noises your sex was making with him.

“See?” He whispered, slurring his words from the pleasure that he was stoking inside of himself, using you to build his fire back to a high roar, “A cuddle isn’t so bad. That’s why you gotta stay here in bed with me, baby. Give me a chance to get hard for you again, yeah?”

You nodded, moaning in agreement, arching your neck to give him more room to work his mouth on you. He took advantage of it right away, feasting on your sensitive skin, raking his sharp teeth across you like the flat edge of a knife, stinging but not ready to draw blood.

“Wanna take you again. Let me have you,” he snarled, all his gentility burning away against his blazing want.

Before you could so much as whimper his name, his hand pressed down until his cockhead was prodding against the soft mouth of your cunt, waiting for your body to swallow him whole. He held his breath as he dipped inside of you. He went slowly, inching his way through your soaked walls, drowning his long shaft in its familiar sheath, groaning and shaking from the bliss of it.

You twisted your hand in the sheets, nearly screaming from the pleasure, too full to move, overstimulated and yet begging him for more with the hungry grind of your hips.

Then, he used his heavy body to shove you beneath him, rolling you onto your belly, pinning you beneath his chest and wrapping his arms around you, stealing away any chance of your escape. But you didn’t want to escape, not anymore. All of your thoughts had been rewired and rewritten with his ink pen, reminding you that you were his to take.

“Ungh, fuck!” He bit down on the nape of your neck, whimpering in a dark, gravelly tone, “Just like that. Squeeze me, baby. Use that fuckin’ pussy on me.”

“Gaz…” You keened, feeling the edge of your orgasm rising within you like a white-hot sun.

“What?” He snapped a little cruelly, “Still wanna go home? Fuck that. Not done with you, baby. Gonna make this tight little pussy remember the shape of me, yeah? I’ll keep you hungry for it.”

As your legs began to shake, Gaz fucked himself into you even deeper, reaching too far and stretching you too wide, forcing a wall of pleasure to slam into your core, making you clench around him that much harder. You felt yourself flood with your own sticky come, and right at the top of your blinding joy, you heard him hiss against your ear, chuckling in a teasing, devilish tone,

“That’s what I thought. Not goin’ anywhere, are ya?”

[boygirlcrisis]

as a girl i am telling you this is definately abuse!!! be careful out there especially if youre a teenage boy - a lot of the time i know that it might seem like youll be judged for being abused by a girl but dont believe that, the people who care about you will want you to be aafe5

look at it this way - if you were to do the things that a girl is doing to you, how do you think people wouldn react? if you know they would see it as abuse then its abuse from her too, gender doesnt make something okay.

I don’t know how many boys follow me, but I gotta bet there’s some. I just wanna tell y’all to be careful.

Abusive girls exist and what they’re doing is seen as like “badass tough don’t take no shit” but your girl should not hit you. Ever.

She should not demand for you to hand over your phone to look through.

She should not yell at you and humiliate you either alone or in front of people.

She shouldn’t make you distance yourself from your friends or family.

She shouldn’t scratch you or twist your arms.

She should not call you names.

She shouldn’t tell you ‘she’ll kill herself if you break up’

These are just a few examples of abuse and it’s just seen as okay when girls do it and god knows I’ve fallen victim to it a few times, but you shouldn’t have to.

Never worry about not being in a relationship. If they’re worth it, they won’t hurt you.

No one has the right to hurt you.

[potchi-fics]

2:27 am (part four of attention)

i | ii | iii | iv

      sevika wakes up with a sore body. strangely, she notices that her body is patched up, wounds clean and all, hell, even littered with bandages and gauze. she checks the aged clock that is nailed on the wall: 2:27. her gaze falls to her window, seeing its still dark— its 2:27 in the morning. a groan of pain emits from her trying to sit up which she did, almost dying in the process. however, soft snores and breathing catch her attention.

its you. 

what are you still doing in here with her? you’re supposed to leave. but who is she kidding, you look soft like an angel–  your hands wrapped around a pillow on your chest, and your head laying on top of it. she doesnt know it but a small smile is on her rugged face: foolish woman. only does she stop staring at your figure when she sees a shiver from your figure to get you a blanket.

but her heavy footsteps cause you to wake up and groggily ask her.

“where you goin’?” your voice laced with sleepiness.

Sevika signals for you to take the couch, “to find a blanket.”

      you are about to protest except she shushes you with a look, successfully shutting you up. she disappears into another room as you quietly move to the couch. you lay down face-first, sleep taking over. 

“here,” the blanket gets thrown on your back, “use it.”

     you thought she was gonna stay but she heads for the door. pushing through your exhaustion, you lift your head up to ask her the same question.

“where you going, sevika?” you glance at the clock, “its 2:33 in the morning, come back here on the couch.”

      without looking back at you, she pulls out a cape.

she takes a few seconds, “job’s not finished.”

“atleast take a couple of more hours to rest,” you argue back.

      you stand up to block her way– determined to somehow find a way to stop her. you look up at her, she’s a massive woman and you hate that you like it. 

sevika frowns, “step aside, topsider.”

“im serious, youre hurt,” your voice holds concern, “and youre hurt bad.”

“and im serious, step aside.” 

      she takes a step forward but you dont budge. you only cross your arm before poking her side, the moment you see her wince, you raise your eyebrow. 

she swats your finger away, “dont touch me.”

      you poke her again, wanting to prove your point. you wont back down easily. she’s hurt and you will do everything in your power to stop her. unexpectedly, she roughly grabs your wrist and pushes you against the nearest wall– pinning you. 

“youre real stubborn,” sevika pushes her thick hips onto yours.

you discreetly swallow, “im just sayin’.”

“stay out of my way, topsider,” she leans down, close enough that you can see every minute detail on her face.

      you dare to get closer, one gust of wind and your lips will meet. she gazes at your lips for a split second, returning to your eyes immediately. your own admire her scars, how the blue blends well with her skin, how it sends fire to your abdomen– again.

yet one question lingers in your mind.

“why do you care?” she pulls away.

      she beats you to it. why do you care? you’ve only met her a couple of days ago. your mind racks up to try and formulate an answer but nothing comes.

sevika’s voice slices through the tense silence, “this means nothing.”

      the both of you withdraw from each other, chests heaving due to just what happened. a horndog is what you are, dont even deny it.

her footsteps get quieter as she exits the door– you look fixedly at the floor, your arms falling back to your side. reality sinks in: yeah, this means nothing. why do i care? the click of the door makes you grit your teeth; frustrated at not only sevika, but yourself as well because what are you doing? why do you care for a woman who youve only met days ago? 

this means nothing.

      you throw yourself into your work after that altercation. all you have done is work all day and all night, not bothering to take a break and it is evident on your face– tired eyes, not sleeping and eating properly, and exhausted. nonetheless, she’s still in your head. you cant seem to get her out of your mind. 

you lean back on your chair, “get out of my fucking head.”

“get who out of your head?” a british woman stands in the doorway of your workshop.

you perk up, “caitlyn, what are you doing here?”

“im here if youre gonna go and come to progress day.” caitlyn leans on the frame of your doorway. “also, ive heard you havent been eating well. or resting, in general.”

your chair creaks as you lean back, “ill think ‘bout it. and im fine, caitlyn.”

      she’s a friend of yours, she stops by your shop every once in a while to help her with the maintenance of her gun. although you consider her a friend, she doesnt know about your secret trips to the undercity nor your interaction with silco’s righthand woman, sevika. she raises her eyebrow but you dismiss it, working back on your project. 

“really, im okay, officer kiramman,” just in time, her mother calls out for her, “and your mothers calling you. say hi to her for me.”

“take care of yourself, will you,” caitlyn bids you goodbye.

      the grip on your small screwdriver loosens up and it drops on your table with a thud: get out of my head, sevika. 

she consumes all of your thoughts: her scent, her body, her nose, her. you think back to when she pressed herself against you, how solid and hard she was, how she was much bigger than you, how she could pin both of your hands using only one from her. god, it sends heat throughout your body, you cant help it. the things she’s doing to you even when she’s not around. one day, ill kill her myself– you bang your forehead on the table.

note: is it obvious that this is a slow burn

[aventurineswife]

hii there!! this is my first request ever— so sorry if its bad and u dont need to do if id you’re uncomfortable ofc :)) ive had to leave people whom i thought were good friends many times, or ive been abandoned by them and its happened again recently—

so may i ask that you write something with either aventurine or dan heng (u can pick one or both) seeing the reader in their room in the aftermath of having to leave another friend or group of friends? the scenario i have imagined is that the reader is also feeling alot worse than usual since they are starting to feel that they might be the problem. theyre crying about it in their room where the other hears them and comes to check the reader out of worry. the reader talks to them about it and the other comforts them and promises that they wont have to worry about having to leave or being abandoned by them.

so sorry if thats an odd, specific request 🥹🥹 i adore ur writing and i thought it would be cool to ask!! feel free to change anything as you see fit :)

“You Are Not the Storm”

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Dan Heng x Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Support, Angst with a Happy Ending, Found Family, Reassurance, can be read as platonic or romantic.

Warnings: Mentions of loneliness and self-doubt, Emotional distress and crying, Themes of abandonment and self-blame.

A/N: I'm so sorry to hear that, anon 😕 i totally get where you're coming from, I had to leave a friend too because of personal reasons and this has happened to me throughout my life, so I totally understand you. I'll be your friend if you'd like. Hope you like this!

The room was quiet save for the muffled sound of sobs. The soft light of the moon filtered through the blinds, casting silvery streaks across the floor. You sat on the edge of your bed, head buried in your hands, your shoulders shaking. The hurt was raw, cutting deeper this time. The thought repeated in your mind like a cruel mantra: Maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m the problem.

A quiet knock came at the door. You barely registered it, lost in your spiral. Then the door opened gently, and a familiar voice called your name.

“Aren’t you going to sleep?” Aventurine’s voice was soft but carried an undercurrent of concern. His eyes were filled with worry. He leaned casually against the doorframe, trying not to overwhelm you with his presence. “You’ve been awfully quiet tonight. That’s unlike you.”

You sniffled, quickly wiping at your face. “I’m fine,” you lied, though your broken voice betrayed you.

Aventurine tilted his head, his hair catching the moonlight. “You don’t look fine, darling. And I don’t like hearing you cry.” He stepped into the room, crossing the space between you in a few strides before kneeling in front of you. He reached out, but his touch was tentative, giving you space.

You hesitated but eventually let the words spill out. “I had to leave again. Another friend, another group… It keeps happening. And I just… I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Why am I always the one who ends up alone?”

Your voice cracked, and tears welled up again. Aventurine reached out, this time cupping your hands in his gloved ones. His expression softened, his usual flamboyant charm replaced with a rare sincerity.

“Hey,” he said gently. “Listen to me. This—what you’re feeling—it’s not because you’re flawed. People come and go in life for a thousand reasons. Sometimes, it’s not about you at all. And sometimes… people just don’t see the brilliance that’s right in front of them.”

You shook your head, your doubts still gnawing at you. “But what if it is me? What if I’m too much? Or not enough?”

Aventurine gave a small, sad smile and squeezed your hands. “You’re enough. And anyone who makes you feel otherwise doesn’t deserve you in their life.” His eyes gleamed, his usual playful confidence creeping back in. “Besides, have you considered that maybe you’re just too fabulous for them to handle?”

Despite yourself, a faint chuckle escaped your lips, and Aventurine’s smile widened. “There we go. That’s better. Now,” he said, sitting beside you and throwing a casual arm over your shoulder, “let me make one thing clear. I’m not going anywhere. I’m stubborn like that. You’re stuck with me, darling.”

You leaned against him, letting his warmth and words sink in. For the first time that night, the weight on your chest eased, just a little.

Dan Heng stood outside your room on the Astral Express. He’d been walking by when he heard the faint sound of crying. At first, he thought it best to give you space, but his worry won out. Quietly, he knocked on the door.

“Come in.” you said, your voice weak.

Dan Heng stepped inside, his eyes scanning the room before landing on you. You sat curled up on your bed, clutching a blanket tightly.

“I heard you,” he said simply, standing a short distance away. “Are you… okay?”

You shook your head, and Dan Heng took a cautious step closer. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You hesitated before nodding, your voice trembling as you spoke. “I’ve had to leave my friends again. I feel like I ruin everything. Like I’m the problem.”

Dan Heng was silent for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he sat on the edge of the bed, his posture calm and unthreatening. “I don’t believe that. You care deeply about others—that much is clear to anyone who knows you. Losing people hurts, but it doesn’t mean you’re to blame.”

Tears streamed down your face. “But it keeps happening. How can it not be my fault?”

Dan Heng looked at you with quiet intensity. “Because sometimes, people grow apart. Or circumstances force things to change. It’s painful, but it’s not always within your control.” His voice softened. “You don’t have to carry all that blame alone. And you don’t have to worry about me leaving. I’ll stay by your side, no matter what.”

His words settled over you like a soothing balm, and you felt yourself relax slightly. Dan Heng reached out, his hand hovering before gently resting it on yours. “Take your time,” he said. “I’m here.”

And you believed him.

[aerequets]

Ur art is such an inspiration and motivation for me, as a fellow artist. I’ve been following ur stuff for a bit now and I was wondering how you decided to draw loid, yor, and anya the way you do. I say this bc I really want to start making my own fan arts, but i struggle to take this anime style and have these character read as [insert character] without it being in a “anime style.”

And I guess this applies to any character you want take from a media, and translate it into your style. Bc i don’t necessarily think ur art style is considered “anime” i kinda just see it as an abstraction ig. But even if it is, it isn’t in the style of anime show is yk? Yet the characters read as who they’re supposed to be.

And I think a while back you u mentioned that you were struggling on decided how to draw loid. ig i wanna know How did you come to the decision that “yes, this looks correct and I wanna draw him like this.”

Is it finding defining feature and proportions? Just messing around until you figure something out? And I assume you make a character sheet to keep it consistent?

Like i literally go to art school but cant draw anything without a reference photo and it killing me 😔💀💀

Sorry for the yapp i’m just down bad rn and really love ur work. Please help be get out of the reference photo trap😭

Also sorry if this reads weird and has errors i’m sleep deprived and can’t bring myself to go back and reread

WHAIUGOUGH???? UR TOO KIND??? THANK U

i will try my best to answer below, but i dont think it is anything profound or super secret lmao

so i think that artists get really caught up with finding/establishing a style when they are first starting out. i say this because i was no different. to me it was like 'oh if i have a style then i am a Real artist instead of just a copier'

but like, i think that order is backwards. like the more that you draw things you enjoy, the more those drawings will become your own and in your 'style' if that makes sense. heavy emphasis on the quantity here. you just gotta go really at it. and the best way to do this is through sheer quantity tbh.

however at the same time, i dont really agree with the whole 'draw x things per day every day' thing cuz sometimes thats just hard man. i mean you mentioned you were in art school so you're probably drawing every day anyways, but for a hobbyist or fanartist (me lol) its mostly based on whether u feel like drawing or not. Which is why its rlly cool when you have a show/book/movie/anything you're really into which makes you want to draw more! it becomes something fun rather than a chore.

so basically, dont view a style as something you have to develop right away, or turn drawing into a chore, because that will be very counteractive trust me.

another important thing i wanted to mention, you said "reference photo trap" but ITS NOT A TRAP! USE REFERENCES!!! REFERENCES ARE IMPORTANT AND GOOD (i am assuming you already know this, but using references is not the same as tracing. just to make it clear)

this is another thing common with newer artists (and of course how i used to be), where you feel like you have to draw 'from your mind' for it to be an indicator of any skill. NOT TRUE!! you need to use references to get better!

lastly, to answer your question (as best i can lol) there was never any point when i decided 'yes this is it' when drawing. you just draw and draw and keep changing and growing. it is a little of everything you said (defining features, proportions, messing around) but it is also just drawing a lot and having fun! :D oh and i definitely do not have a character sheet. i am not anywhere near that organized LMAO

[spectrumgarden]

it feels like everywhere often im trying to grab onto something and shake it tobreak the barrier between me and others, shake it loose and watch it crumble, hit the glass wall between me nd the world until it breaks. i try it with words but often the more sincere i am, people think i joke. if they understand im sincere, they still often dont understand me, the saame way i dont understand them.

they dont understand my life and often its like "getting to know me" is people understand my interests and then just engage with me through them & i like when they do because it makes sense in some way but it feels like they still dont know me, but i also dont know me.

little bits and pieces.

walk in the waiting room and theres no two spots next to each other and my mother asks in which of the two seperate ones i wanna sit and i freeze, i dont move, i cant, i sit next to her, i dont have strangers on both sides. i sway on my feet. a woman gets up next to one of the empty seats, goes to the other across the room, says here u go, u can sit next to each other. smiles at my mother. i think i know the smile. the smile says here, i hope i make the day a bit easier, its hard with a disabled child. i end up pacing up and down the waiting room 10 minutes later anyways. i hate waiting rooms. they say 5 and its never five and i know its never five but then its past five and i want to jump and run and hide, they said its five.

"does he tolerate treatment?" i rock in the dentist chair. i want to scream but i cant. i want to leave but i try hard so i rock harder. we get food at the bakery downstairs. i only like one thing. i wish i liked more. maybe i like more, but not here, not now, my head says no, only this, only this, only this. my mother asks why i act worse than other doctors visits recently. "all new" cold screen on my fingertips.

all walls are white and all hallways are long and all rooms are square in some way and all doors are the same. now theres stickers on the floor of the workshop. one color bathroom, one color lunch room, one color quiet room. there is paintings and there is a glass door and there is things but all i know is they are there when i see them. sometimes my feet just take me to the right place, and im happy. i figured out how the two doors lead to the same place.

its loud. i get up and walk. i want a place to hide. sit between the cars. plastic creaks. i dont want to get yelled at for breaking. i get up and walk. "please go back" inside head. walk more. legs hurt. sit under a bridge. now its safe. im far away. alone. im happy there was the bridge. under it is good. i nearly went above, full of cars. im happy my body went below. because my body doesnt listen. the sun is bright and the air is cold and my hands freeze. i walk "back" but i dont know where that is. a carer rides up to me on his bike "did you get lost?" i take a step back. /punished. yelled at. send home, parents yell. / but he smiles and backs away. people are nice now, here. i tell him my body just walks, and he nods.

my sister gifts me a plushie. i hug it all morning. my sister always gifts me toys. i like them. she smiles and says "i know you!" and i wonder is plushies and lego who i am? Who am i?

thick plastic covered things the way of medical therapy space. praise for my hands work. sometimes im a good kid, when im better than the others. when they shake and my lines are clean. when they jump and i sit still.

i bite my hands but i dont bleed and they say nothing. my mother looks at the marks later. "did you bite again?" i dont understand why she asks. she can see it.

three or four carers. maybe 8 other teens and adults. down syndrome and ID and autism and others. i wander off and sit under the stairs and hit my head. "dont you want to look at this museum with us? Yes? come with me. stand up. grab your bag. come with me" i swear it sounds sweet to me when she says it. ("hey, are you gonna keep an eye on him in the exhibition?)

words are thrown away or maybe stored in a place i forget about them.

my friends often giggle when i hold my glass with both hands. "its cute, like a kid". i feel shaky. i try hard not to spill. i wonder do they understand what they say.

[whorrorbvby]

an update:

hey friends a lot of people have been asking where ive been on other socials and im sorry for being m.i.a and ignoring everyone’s worries. im not getting into it right now and i dont know if i want to talk about the details publicly. 

i deleted tumblr from my phone about two and a half weeks ago and ive had a friend keeping a queue going on main for me. it might be that way permanently now i don’t know. I don’t know that I want to come back to tumblr if im being honest. a lot of things happened and i just can’t handle seeing certain people anymore so i’ve been hanging out on two of the more safer socials where tumblr people people generally leave me alone. not that im upset with you any of you or anything it’s more of a personal relationship and it just turned me off of basically everything and i just can’t handle a lot right now.  

i didn’t want to stop posting my own content for obvious reasons but i really can’t bring myself to come back it’s too hard and my heart can’t handle it right now. i also haven’t taken any new photos or anything and as of right now i don’t really feel super comfortable in sharing my body in that way. situations have made me feel disgusting as a person and i can’t look at myself. im trying to post more on ig to boost myself back up but i don’t know my self image is kind of ruined now. plus i’ve lost 15lbs from stress and inability to eat because of it and with how many people already harass and bully me for how scrawny i am i don’t want to subject myself in my current mental state to even the possibility of anyone saying anything. 

but like i said i have a friend running main for me and i might have them run this account too and my pepper page just because i do want to go back to making content i just dont know if i can handle posting or being in certain spaces right now. 

on top of what im currently dealing with in my personal life this is just a really hard time for me in general because of the holiday season and close to the anniversary of my best friends death so i tend to shut down a little anyway it’s just my entire world came crashing down again and im honestly starting to give up on even existing. i know im being melodramatic and i need to suck it up and just go back to status quo it’s just really hard this time and i cant force myself into a positive headspace like i used to even for a second. i have honestly never felt this empty and i barely know who i am or what my worth is anymore. 

i dont know if i’ll turn my asks back on. my friend offered to answer anything for me but its better for my mental health if i dont because i know people will ask questions and i dont trust myself to not completely go off on a tangent. im sorry i know im rambling but i feel like a proper update with zero room for misunderstanding is needed and i dont want to sugarcoat or lie to any of you to make myself seem or feel better cuz i respect the hell out of you guys and you deserve honesty if for nothing else. and i appreciate so fucking much you all continuing to support me and hype me up through all the bullshit life keeps throwing at me. 

im mostly on ig and threads right now and on threads im talking about games and movies with new people im meeting and it’s been really helping through shit. if you follow me on snap you saw me say im thinking about deleting everything. my accounts are still up and as long as my friend still wants to help me out i’ll at least have a queue running on main but i’ve deleted every social app other than ig and threads. i wholeheartedly planned on deleting snap last night but it’s the only way some of you get any updates from me so for now i wont delete it but i might make a new one instead just to get away from situations that are bringing me down. we’ll see. if I make a new snap i’ll post it everywhere n put it in my bios. that being said i don’t have a private/nsfw snap and i wont make one im sorry. i still wont sell content outside of what i post on peppers and i wont do customs im sorry. maybe in the future but right now i need to focus on myself and getting out of this headspace before i do anything else. 

but truly thank you for sticking with me and just genuinely being the best crew around. i promise to try my best to get out of this mess of a headspace im in as quickly as possible and im really sorry for basically abandoning everything again but i really am hopeful for the future and just trying to focus on myself and my happiness at the moment 🙏🏻🧡

[shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii]

What if Buddy had a sister?

(I made an AU of if Buddy had a sister imma draw it online later cause they look a bit funky on paper and also so I can draw them with color too! Meet Tiny!)

“Tiny”

Buddy was already in chains. The story is supposed to be finished by now. All Prunella has to do is send him of to jail. All she had to say is “Take him to jail”. Just a few simple words. But nooooo, Buddy and Chase were fighting and Prunella thinks this is entertaining. And you know what they were fighting about? They were bickering over if chips are the same things as crackers or not. How did the small insult Buddy gave off turn into a war of are chips and crackers the same? Deacon was done. Absolutely over it.

“Chase come on wrap it up the guards have been standing there for 10 minutes already and they are starting to look lifeless” Deacon tapped Chase’s on his shoulder

“UGH!! I DONT CARE DORKIN, LOOK BUDDY IS TALKING NONSENSE YOU HEAR ME ACTUAL NONSENSE!!!” Chase said

“NO IM NOT!!! SEARCH IT UP, CHIPS AND CRACKERS ARE THE SAME THING!!! SOME CRACKERS ARE CALLED CHIPS!!! YOUR THE IDIOT HERE!!!” With 2 guards on the sides of him holding Buddy’s arm he still had no fear to speak up to the newly married princesses.(Chase)

“Ugh Deacon it was getting to the good part but you interrupted it” Prunella said rolling her eyes

“Look. Chase. please. let’s just end the book later Prunella will get home later than usual and they will get suspic-“

“Yeah yeah save it dorkin I’m wrapping I’m wrapping!” Then Chase turned over to Buddy, “GO SUCK ON A TAILPIPE!!!”

Chase grabbed on Deacons arm and started to leave

“PERHAPS I WILL-“ Buddy was about to yell back

Suddenly a flash of light appeared.

“Wait Chase, we need Prunella to send off Buddy” Then Deacon looked at the flashing light. “Huh???”

“WOAH CHASE WAIT!!!” Prunella pointed at the light “I-it looks like another person?!”

“Huh” Chase turned around to see a small female figure. She looked about 14-16 years old. She seemed to almost about Chase’s height and looked thin. Her hair was a a deep black with strands or maroon extensions in it and she had the same pale skin as Buddy.

“BROTHER!!!” She yelled and scampered to hug Buddy but he jumped back leaving her to awkwardly hug herself. The guards then grabbed Buddy making him stay in place this time.

“W-WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE- Uh YOU???!!!” Buddy tried to grab her but the shackles and the guards grabbing his arms prevented him to.

“THATS YOUR SISTER??” Chase exclaimed with both of his hands on his head as he ran back to Buddy.

“Yes I a-“

“NO SHE IS NOT I- I DONT KNOW HER A-AT ALL!!!” Buddy then faced the smaller girl “why are you here?” He whispered in a forceful tone.

“O-oh Ahem,” the girl faced to Chase, “My brother speaks the truth I am not a sibling”

Buddy would smack his face if his hand weren’t in shackles currently.

Then the small figure looked towards Buddy and whispered back “I’m here to help! They lended me a key and said it was ok so-“

“Don’t” Buddy turned away, avoiding her face.

“You look like a tiny version of Buddy” Chase looked at her in admiration while Deacon looked at her shocked.

“Noooo, we don’t need a smaller version of Buddy!”

“Who is this “Buddy” person you’re talking about amongst yourself?” The girl asked

“Oh that’s “not your brother” over there” Prunella pointed at Buddy and you could see the embarrassment in his face. His eyes weren’t as narrow as usual and his face revealed a shade of pink. He couldn’t deny what prunella said though… it was true. THAT STUPID CHASE FOR GIVING HIS SUCH A RIDICULOUS NICKNAME!!!

The girl scoffed, “that can’t be true, brother is cruel and unforgiving, that’s a name you give to a fellow friend”

Buddy sorta tapped her with his elbow, “please, just… stop”

Oh. It was true. That’s the nickname he has been given. Well it just gives something to make fun of him for!

Then the girl looked the trio up and down giving a menacing and judgmental look. I mean teens already look very judgey but she looked like she put extra judgement into that look.

Deacon felt shivers down his spine and Prunella gave a stare at her back. Meanwhile Chase…

“Oh… oh she is adorable” Chase finally got out

“Wait. WHAT?” Chase had said the literal opposite of what Deacon was thinking.

“Oh please, I already know that- are… are you the one with the heroine key?” She responded, “Ah brother talks about you a lot!” She said as she grabbed Chase by his necklace.

Getting a closer look at her, Chase could see that she has wide narrow gray eyes. You could see a hint of blue within the deep gray.

“Buddy talks about me? WHAT DOES HE SAY????”

“NO NO NO PLEASE SHUT UP” Buddy said really fast

“NOOOO DONT LISTEN TO BUDDY JUST TELL ME TINY” Chase grabbed on to the girls shoulders

“Tiny? Well no I can’t anymore” she looked over to Buddy “brother has told me not to” she said with a little smirk on her face, “it’s really really good blackmail~”

“WAIT JUST TELL ME IS IT GOOD STUFF OR BAD?”

The girl ignored Chase and looked over to the others “Who is the one with the helper key?” Then she looked at the keys wrapped around Prunella’s and Deacons neck. “Oh so you’re the helper and you’re the hero!” She looked at Deacon with a smirk on her face “You are perfect for the helper key”

“Wait what does that mean?”

“And you- well aren’t you a little too young to be a hero?”

“Gold coming from you” Buddy scoffed

“Ay watch it Tiny! I’m a survival expert and also I’m 8! I am old!” Prunella tried to argue back

“You know what! Take her away guard and uh- take that person too!” Prunella said

“HEY! I DIDNT DO ANYTHING! THIS DOESNT HAPPEN TO MY ROLE!!”

Buddy gave tiny a small laugh “Get used to it- Tiny~” while adding a a mock in his tone saying “Tiny”

They were finally taken away by the guards and the story can to an end.

———————————————————

“PRUNELLA!!! I WASNT DONE TALKING TO TINY YET!!” Chase groaned as he flopped to his bed

“Now we gotta deal with more “sassyness” Deacon said

“(Sigh) I guess so…” Prunella replied

“Wait does anyone remember what key she had?”

All three of them stared at each other clueless

———————————————————

(The stuff Buddy told Tiny about Chase, I feel like they would have gossip sessions time to time lol. So this is before this incident)

“UGH!! I-I HATE THAT GUY SO MUCH!” Buddy scrunched his hair

“Oh shoot your back early- are you talking about the one with the heroine key?” Tiny questioned. She was trying to find Buddy’s chocolate stash but when she finally did he came back. Luckily he was to busy with his head he didn’t notice her reaching there.

“Well yeah I hate him too but I was talking about the one with the helper key!! Why does he always come with Chase? Even the kid doesn’t go with Chase often!!!”

“They are probably siblings or something” Tiny slowly reached her hand to Buddy’s chocolate stash under his bed.

“No the can’t be sibling-“ Buddy started pacing around the room, “Chase has soft golden rich-blonde hair that looks warm in the storybook sunlight. It seems so honey-like and his eyes are a dark brown but they look milky. The closer you look into it it starts to look like chocolate. Not only that but his eyes compliment his tan smooth skin and-“

“Ok what about the guy with the the helper key?” Tiny saw in the corner of her eye the chocolate bar she finally got a hold of.

“Oh… Deacon…” Buddy said in a very judgmental tone “Well he has freckles all over his face and he doesn’t have a good sense of fashion. Like why would Chase like him?! I’m clearly better and he also has poo poo color hair! I’m sexier and more handsome. IM ALSO-“ Buddy went rambling on how much better he is than Deacon in every way

“Uh huh… uh huh…” Tiny was too focused on her own thing. Ok, now it’s time to slowly unwrap the chocolate bar, Buddy was yapping a lot so it might cover the sound of the crinkle. This was very dangerous and yet Tiny still took the risk.

“Ugh! You know what? Thinking of Chase’s eyes is making me hungry-“ Buddy turned over his chocolate stash “HEY!!!”

“NOOO” Tiny was so close to putting the chocolate to her mouth

Buddy dashed towards her and grabbed the chocolate out of her hand “AND YOU WONDER WHY I DONT TRUST YOU!!”

“AHHH PLEASE JUST ONE BITE”

“NO THESE ARE MINES- and they are from Chase” Buddy mumbled the last half of that sentence

[harkingspot]

Heyo it’s me, I’m here to ruin ya day

Thoughts on Mitzi and Mordecai’s parallels and how desperate they are to find answers about Altas’s death?

mordecai heller and mitzi may: a piece on grieving.

FIRST of all, i apologise that this response took a very long time to cook up. i wanted it to be as fleshed out as possible because i do have a lot to say in this regard. the train of thought initially departed because of the widespread misunderstanding around mitzi’s character. to which i thought to myself: well it’s strange that people can easily extend their empathy towards mordecai, who (to me) has undoubtedly done worse. but what’s even worse is that, if you really look closely— if we made a venn diagram for these two, there’s a large chunk of overlap between them.

(p.s. now that i am proofreading all of this i realise its a bit different from what you asked but nonetheless i hope it captures the complex nature of grief as a theme in lackadaisy, especially when discussing the parallels between mitzi and mordecai)

so let’s break it down.

if someone wanted to read lackadaisy and asked me if there were any main themes that circled around the story— i would say: grief. more specifically, the consequences of untapped grief. mean the story itself starts off with the mysterious and brutal death of atlas may, who was THE big cat behind the lackadaisy. atlas himself was an enigma, and i have mentioned this before in another post. his position within the story bears a lot of similarities to rose quartz as they play the ghastly spouse that haunts the narrative.

however, this is not about atlas, but instead the two people that served as his vessel after his passing:

his wife, mitzi, and his right-hand man, mordecai.

instead of dissecting this theme individually, finding the differences between the two, i thought it would do the analysis more justice to extract it directly from the source material itself. initially i wanted to talk about how this grieving bleeds out onto others around them (e.g. mitzi forging a check from wick, mordecai kneecapping viktor).

let’s take “hamstring” and “monomania” for example, as they both converse over asa’s claims at their lunch. but if you really think about it, it was never about that.

this scene embodies a power struggle between the two. for one, mitzi’s mentions of mordecai’s “obsession” as a deflection. she sees his rigid loyalty as both a flaw and a threat. by framing mordecai as overly fixated, she’s able to position herself as the more pragmatic party who is trying to keep afloat. which is true and mitzi, rightfully, views mordecai as a “relentless former associate.” his meticulous nature, his refusal to let go of the past, and his allegiance to ideals that no longer align with business’ survival paints him as the wildcard to her. then again, it’s hard to take empty words from someone that had abandoned the very concept he claims to protect.

that’s not to say mordecai doesn’t return the sentiment, because he very much does. to him, mitzi’s pragmatism looks more like opportunism, evident in her willingness to bend rules, and in his perspective, betray atlas’ vision to keep the business alive. while she plays the capable leader, that imagery clashes with his perception of her as someone who lacks discipline— possibly bred by the history that mordecai knows her to be atlas’ wife and nobody more. he sees mitzi as culpable in the lackadaisy’s downfall and he makes sure she knows this.

but at the end of the day, they are having this conversation inside the same car. while one might interpret this being the main divergence between the two, we can see a striking commonality in which they are failed actors starring in roles they never wanted.

what do i mean by this? while the dont outwardly acknowledge it, grief survives in this scenario as a subtext. you can tell by the use of dialogue. mitzi’s sarcastic tone and pointed remarks, almost shoving the spotlight towards mordecai, suggests a stage of denial and pain that comes with her grieving over atlas. remember what mordecai said to mitzi in response?

“losses are endemic to this business. you’ve brought them on yourself in your persistence… as though you could bring the remains of atlas’ estate to anything but further disgrace.”

his crticisim of mitzi isn’t just about the state of the lackadaisy, in fact, mordecai subconsciously targets himself for his own inability to move on. mordecai and mitzi are different people, that is no question. but this scene serves as a great analogy that this conversation could very much be happening in their heads. this is a conversation not between two people but between one and oneself.

here’s also another thing to note: their seating arrangement.

whether or not tracy meant for this to be intentional, there’s a lot you can take in this scene in regards to their character. mitzi sits in the passenger seat at the front, where the light is more prominent. it symbolises her active role as the current face of the lackadaisy and the one taking on visible responsibility for its perseverance. however, note that she is still in the passenger seat, not the driver’s— mitzi is losing control, she is struggling to move forward in the wake of atlas’ passing. but she’s still not fully in charge of its trajectory, think of how asa and mordecai looks down on her current position.

occasionally, she’d glance back at mordecai to speak, which definitely shows her discomfort and mistrust towards him, she’s unwilling to fully confront him. and in my opinion, not only does this reveal her vulnerability, this also shows her internal discontent.

mordecai, on the other hand, is sitting behind her (literally AND metaphorically) in the shadows. he sits in the back, detached from the lackadaisy but not completely. he observes mitzi from behind, his direct vision fixed on the back of her head, almost as if he’s reflecting on her choices and her struggles— perhaps… confronted with his own betrayal.

plus, if you’re thinking: what about the holes in the windows? GREAT question. despite how they want to present themselves, be it independent (mitzi) or calculated (mordecai), they’re both incredibly vulnerable individuals.

as they sit in this confined space together, they breathe in the air of their inescapable bond and mutual dependence. their dynamic equal parts antagonistic and deeply intertwined.

[starrletnight]

i have been gone for a little bit, and im sorry for that, but there is something i want to talk about regards the sky x pressure au

i have been seeing pressure fandom get more and more suffocating and hectic, especially in regards to people who even remotely enjoy sebastian,, i have been seeing my friends be harrassed, I Have been harrassed, and it never fully goes away, since the devs seem to be at best, ignorant of their own community, and at worst, complacent with the harrassment

i dont believe they are these horrible people who want to spread misery,, i think theyre normal people who werent ready for a giant fandom,, but i cant also deny that i dread the idea of interacting with pressure fandom or creating for it

if my artworks cant bring happiness to neither myself or the people i create for, then maybe i am creating for the wrong people

so i wont be drawing anything pressure related for the time being, at least,,

this brings up sky x pressure,,, i know its what im mostly known for and i love it dearly, so abandoning it would be a big loss, which i dont want to do,, many people also love the au and i dont want to let them down

i guess what i wanna say is, that im gonna probably slow down (yeah no shit how long has it been since you last posted, starry) the comics,, its not fair if i stop now, no matter my discomfort with the fandom and the devs

thank you for your patience,, i will post for the au again soon <3

[champmorado]

none of you understand how mentally ill i am about him,,,,,

LIKE. he is the clone of a beloved hero who was created to be the son of a man that he has never met (and will likely never get to meet!)

he was created by the literal embodiment of all evil and darkness in the world to lead an army, to do his bidding, to be *his weapon*

by the hands of a fellow nindroid who was first created to just be an assistant but grew to to experience family, friendship, love, change, grief, LIFE, all that sappy bullshit

theres so much shit here about purpose, what you were created for, what you choose to do, what you choose to be, what you become!!!!

I. I DONT KNOW. im making shit up at this point but. yea.

he is everything to me ;-;

[prongsandpetals]

no one asked for this but i’m saying it anyway because i am tired of this grandpa.

i dont hate jegulus or their shippers. personally, it doesnt make sense to me and my moral compass trickles into fiction meaning i dont have much interest in any of the slytherins. it could also be the fact that when people would create oc’s for james in their fics 10 yrs ago and made lily a raging bitch id be fighting them all in the comments- a fight or flight response that now has spread to jegulus- but thats neither here nor there. it brings people joy and they are fictional characters, and it doesnt physically hurt anyone!

but there is something to be said about some of the less savoury implications it has had on the fandom. it feels as though jily is in its own subfandom sort of pushed to the side, leaving two mlm ships to dominate. unfortunately a lottt of female characters have been forgotten or pushed aside because of this. a lot of people who joined the fandom not that long ago either dont know or forget that this fandom was not built on either wolfstar (who i love), or jegulus. yes, they popularised them, but this fandom has revolved around jily for over 10 years. not to mention many of these fics were written from lilys pov, meaning there was so much more depth put into the girls characters. to erase this is to erase the fandoms history.

the diversifying of characters is something amazing that has come more recently with the popularisation of the fandom and thats one of the good parts!! however if someone still views aaron taylor johnson as their james, that doesn’t make them a racist - the man has been james since at least 2006.

another (smaller) thing ive seen is someone will post a song or a photo and attribute it to a jily moment with harry that we can realistically see happening canonically and a comment will say something along the lines of: “this but its how james felt when regulus (insert something that did not happen here)” idk if its the autism but god those always get me a little bit, especially when it includes harry.

similarly, it feels as though people who ship jily are assumed to be less progressive. as a lesbian jily shipper i can’t disagree more. just because a ship is a straight ship does not make it a bad ship - i think we can all agree there are so many amazing LGBTQ+ ships out there now for everyone to enjoy. it does feel quite strange to me to place the two characters who created the child that there are seven books about into different ships, but people like them so its chill!! but when its just complete eradication or discontent with the canon ship… ;(

i also think that to have jegulus be endgame (except aus), a lot of james’s insanely important character traits literally HAVE to be erased. his hatred for death eaters and fight for justice, his unending loyalty to his friends - especially sirius- his black and white view on right and wrong, all of these traits become warped and stretched when it comes to jegulus. of course there isnt much canon to go off of so when people disregard it entirely i can understand it to a degree. but when you erase the important canon points we have on their characters, we are basically just creating oc’s with real characters names.

another thing that i find irksome is the fetishisation of these mlm ships- if youre gonna ship two men together do it right!! why are you calling regulus a cute little baby victim and james a big strong protector!! let them be complex and messy or dont do it at all! not to mention the erasure of a lot of wlw ships... lowkey gives girl who has gay boy best friend that thinks lesbians are weird… anyways off topic! ive heard people say its not fetishisation, its because the female characters arent written with depth- that’s why people read jegulus and wolfstar! okay? go give the girls some depth? regulus is a character we basically know nothing about canonically and youve turned him into a fully fleshed character who is now a lot of peoples favourite - it can be done with the girls too. there is such emphasis placed on wolfstar and jegulus for their deep, tragic love stories - and the marauders friendship in general. the gryffindor girls are right there. dorlene is right there. marylene is right there.

and if it truly werent fetishisation, i would argue that it can be a romanticisation of toxic relationships. a lot of people dislike jily because there is no “angst”. the angst is fighting in a war at 21 years old. the angst is lily and james’s differing blood statuses and the implications this has on their lives. the angst is having a prophecy hanging over their unborn child’s head that forces them into hiding. the angst is being betrayed by their best friend, leading them to sacrifice themselves for their family and the wizarding world. the angst is literally right there, but because their relationship is healthy and happy- one of the only things in their lives that is not full of pain- they are deemed boring.

again, i dont hate jegulus. i especially dont dislike anyone who likes the ship and gets something out of it. but there is so much change this fandom has gone through since their introduction and popularisation that has made interacting with the fandom as a whole almost unbearable sometimes, and thats what i do hate.

all in all, multishippers definitely have the most fun.

[shadebloopnik]

Calling for help from any kind fandom citizen, I have a survey of which I am in dire need of responses for school.

So if you could answer this short survey below, it only takes like, 2-3 minutes minimum, thank you so muchhhh ⬇️⬇️⬇️

Audience's Perception on AI-Generated Works

I'll be accepting free fic commissions for responses

Reblogs are appreciated(on my knees for em)

Some tea abt why I made this survey, the very polite beef i have with my instructor, and details on the fic comms underneath

Ok, so like, long story short, our professor assigned us to make a short survey about anything related to technology and stuff like that. I figured i'd make something related to AI art, bc yknow, at least I'd be somewhat interested in the topic.

And btw, I like to say our prof is a nice guy, reeeally, but he's also, VERY pro AI, for anything. I've gotten into soft debates on that whenever there's presentations in class, and he keeps dismissing me. "Its progress" he says, and doesn't really listen whenever I talk further about it. SO, in addition to this being for my grade(smthn important, im sure), i'm also doing this to nicely shove the opinions of the crowd into his face.

So if some of the questions sound passive aggressive, please dont mind it, as he is going to be part of the editor, and I want him to see it.

also Twitter is the only thing im deadnaming, so if thats a gamechanger for you, I apologize in advance

ALSO, my extremely kind and benevolent instructor whom I just TRULY adore with all my heart (no im not gritting my teeth), have decided that it should have a minimum of 150 respondents to even be counted, a funny condition when he gave us like, barely 2 weeks but ok.

I've sent this out to people in my school and general friends more than a week ago, but I'm still lacking at LEAST 90 responses. (They suggested it was my topic that was the issue. BORING they said I just-) I only have a day or so to get more people.

SOOOO to sweeten the pot and as a form of apology.

Everyone who answers this survey can write down in their reblogs or replies a ship/prompt they'd want me to make a fic. 3 with the most popular votes gets written. Just write down the name/alias you've written in the survey with ur replies.

Minimum 2k words for each fic. It shall be posted by the end of December or early January on ao3

YES even nsfw ones, but you'll have to clarify it if it wins(im gonna be shocked if its something i truly cannot write about tbh)

I figured this is a fun way to force myself back into the writing scheme tbh. I have written some concepts before, like the AU's I had pinned, and some drabbles, but so far none that really stuck so meep

I would prefer its a fandom or ship im currently fixated on/know about, like Hazbin Hotel, Helluva Boss, Owl House, Orv, etc.