#Drawing Updations & As-built Checks

[tokitooth]

now that i’ve gotten out my cuddly drunk skwis idea i need to get out my hockey player toki and figure skater skwis idea. somehow

[sadagios]

Icarus, and the Sunflower

A Desert Duo/Scarian AU about an avid player meeting his favorite, comfort character in a death loop video game.

I can’t write a fic, nor have time to draw comics like i used to, so we are doing bullet points on a tumblr post

PART ONE: BEFORE THE ALPHA TEST

PILOT: PART TWO

2.1k words below the cut

SOME BEGINNING NOTES: - This AU is only character shipping, and references a lot outside the life series events (evo, hermitcraft, empires, etc). This is not meant to ship the CC’s themselves and if anything alludes to it, it is purely unintentional. - This is not canon-compliant ermmmm i do what i want and i will put every idea i have into this - Tags for this part? Game dev AU, Grian is whipped for Scar, some characters are real and some are fictional, this is only the pilot, absolutely not beta'd i only have one impulsive braincell

A. Gria

Gria is a single man in his late 20s; he works at a game company called E.V.O. Games (Entertainment Virtual for Everyone). He was an architecture graduate who dabbled in game dev in his spare time during his undergraduate studies. Although he didn’t pursue that path, he utilized his skills in level design. He used to work in several indie game companies, one of which was a company founded with friends, before he was hired by E.V.O. Games. He was excellent at his job, and his ideas and inputs always improved whatever project he worked on. Because of this, after a few years, he was promoted to creative director.

His latest project was “The Evolutionists’ Portal,” a 3D pixel-style puzzle game in which the player has to navigate the world to find portals hidden in each level, and these portals progress the game. With each portal traveled into, the world becomes bigger and more complicated, making each portal harder to find. However, with multiplayer, this task is easier through working together (and doing fun shenanigans together).

It had a buggy release, especially for multiplayer, but it built a decent player fanbase; the story itself was short and simple, but it was replayable thanks to its multiplayer mode.

For visualization, it’s 3D with a top-down perspective like “Pokemon Diamond/Pear/Platinum” but has gameplay similar to “Stardew Valley”

Gria and his team get along well, and he is quite close to some of them:

Martyn: an audio engineer. This is the first game he’s worked on since he was first hired in the company.

“Big B”: a VFX artist. He and Gria joined the company around the same time and bonded over stressful deadlines and annoying seniors when they started out.

Jimmy: the project manager. Although Gria takes a lot of joy in teasing him, he is hardworking and great at keeping everyone in check with the calendar. Out of everyone, he is the one Gria is closest with. He also works on another game by the company called “Empires.” 

Pearl: an environment artist. She joined the company a bit later in the development. It is her first time dealing with pixel graphics but she did it incredibly well. She also works on “Empires” with Jimmy.

“Empires” is a free-to-play fantasy open-world action gacha RPG. It is the biggest game of the company and their title game. 

For visualization, it’s just “Genshin Impact” and “Honkai: Star Rail”.

Recently, there was a buzz around that their game, “Empires”, will have a collaboration event with another big name. Gria was too busy and overworked to take notice of this, though. 

The fruits of his labor later came as game nominations for “Best Multiplayer” and “Best Audio Design.” Gria was happy their work was acknowledged by players worldwide, even if they didn’t win.

B. Hermitopia

After so long, Gria finally took a week off. It was foreign to have no obligations for even a day. He doesn’t use this time to travel; instead, he sits at home and lurks on the internet to keep up with gaming news and updates. He uses the username “Xelqua” with a red macaw as his profile picture.

He stumbled upon a “Redstone tutorial” post by the user ”Potatonutshell”. Curious and intrigued by how such a complicated contraption is possible in a game (and bored out of his mind), he asked this user what game it was for. Potatonutshell briefly, and over-excitedly, DM’d Gria with a huge wall of text about this game called “Hermitopia 6.”

In the beginning days of his break, Gria spent time messaging this Potatonutshell fella, named “Mumbo.” Mumbo named himself after a character named “Mumbo Jumbo”, who is one of the most skilled “redstoners” in the game. He related heavily with the character and took a lot of interest in the redstone circuitry game feature as he is a programmer in real life. Gria thought the game was interesting, but not enough to install a 36 GB game for $39.99. He changed his mind when Mumbo told him more about the game, especially its base-building mechanic.

“Hermitopia 6: Hermit Civil War” is an open-world fantasy action RPG known for its base-building core mechanic. It is the sixth game in the franchise, and each game starts in a brand-new world. The player and the lovable NPCs are called hermits, a band of humans, fae, hybrids, and other species who live together on an island and work together to live a sustainable life amidst the hostile creatures that roam the world. 

For visualization, it’s like “Skyrim” with “Baldur’s Gate 3” graphics and dialogue UI.

Gria planned to try it for a few hours, only humoring his new internet friend, until he met this beautiful NPC named “Scar Goodtimes” — a human-vex hybrid with scars all over his “handsome face and carved body”, as Gria would personally describe him. He was also a builder who lived near Gria’s very odd underwater base. Throughout the remaining days of his break, and his weekends after that, Gria played Hermitopia 6 religiously.

Scar calls him “GRIAN”, which was a typo error — Gria pressed enter early in the name selection screen and he didn’t realize it until Scar first mentioned his name 3 hours into the game. He can’t be bothered to fix it, though (and he's grown fond of it.)

Gria continued to play the game in his free time, slowly falling in love with the game as he kept on playing. He also kept talking to Mumbo, who he fanboyed about the game with. He found out that Mumbo lived close by too, so they hung out frequently and bonded over the game.

Gria: I genuinely thought you had a big mustache, y’know, like Mumbo Jumbo. Mumbo: I do too! It’s... it's there! [he shows his very faint mustache] It's there! Gria: sure.

Xelqua started off as a lurker, to an active Hermitopia fan account. He was interested in the base-building aspect of the game and shared his designs online.

Hermitopia is not a dating simulator. There is no romance mechanic in the game. Anyway, Gria installed (and tweaked) a romance mod because no one can stop him from flirting with his fictional vex boyfriend.

Mumbo: Grian, if I hadn't met you personally, I would've pictured you as a crazy Scar fanatic. Gria: Wha— How— I’m not crazy. Mumbo: You downloaded a romance mod just to flirt with Scar and commissioned an artist to draw a scene from it, and now you have it framed on your bedroom wall. So, Grian, I think that’s crazy behavior. Gria: … I do what I want, Mumbo!

Gria's love for the game and Scar grew more as another hermitopia game was released (Hermitopia 7). Then, he, as Xelqua, became a notorious name because of a supposedly harmless poll about the sexiest character in the game. He was known as the insane Scar fan.

He's got every Scar merch, though there isn't much Hermitopia merch released in general. However, if someone posts about a new Scar fan merch, a certain username might appear in their notifications, like a hound trailing a scent. Haters and trolls are also dragged to hell and back because, if they aren't regretful after being berated by this insane man, they will not be able to surf through the web in peace as long as Xelqua holds a grudge. 

As insane as this Xelqua person is, Scar had become a popular character within the fandom, compared to his old status as an underrated sweetheart without much attention or fanfare thanks to Xelqua constantly (for years without missing a day) talking about him. Xelqua also organized or helped some Scar fan events and constantly supported merch creators with hermitopia merch (especially if it involved Scar.)

User Xelqua, about Scar: He is my little sunshine, my precious sunflower. He might’ve killed some men, but he was hot while doing it.

C. The Collaboration Event

Back to Game dev stuff, Gria isn’t open about his current obsession with his coworkers. When the collaboration event with the “Empires” games was finally announced, two representatives from the other company came to visit. “Skizzleman” has been a writer for Hermitopia since the 3rd game. A character from Empires, Gemini, will become a new character in the next Hermitopia game, and there will be a DLC that will add a new small map with many biomes and new materials. In Empires, Hermitopia characters will be featured in a limited-run gacha banner and a limited-time story event. 

Now a Hermitopia fan, Gria tried to interview Skizzleman about the game (while making it not obvious how obsessed he is with it). Skizzleman was the one who wrote the lore for “Impulse” as well as most of his dialogue throughout the games.

Another representative for Hermitopia, the lead designer Joel, came to visit for the collab event. He is a fanatic of Empires and a diehard “Shadow Lady” fan, which is why he is so excited to work with E.V.O. Games for the collab.

Accompaniment art for this here: link

Gria was never into gacha games, but with a mix of Pearl and Jimmy convincing him to try the game they worked on (not to mention the fact that it is free-to-play), and showing him an initial sketch of what some hermitopia characters will look like in the game (this isn’t allowed, but Jimmy and Pearl found the thought of their serious coworker playing a gacha game amusing), he finally caved. Little did they know, showing a topless concept art of Scar is more than enough to reel him in.

When the collab update was finally released, Gria grinded Empires just to get Scar. He practically paid his own salary back to his company just to get Scar to max level and his additional skins. (He loved his new “HotGuy” skin the most)

With the release of “Hermitopia 8: Moon Collision” and the introduction of co-op multiplayer mode, Gria invited Pearl to play with him with the excuse that they're only going to see how Gemini looks in the game. Gria successfully got Pearl hooked on the game.

D. The Watchers Studio

Before Gria properly applied to a game company, he developed small-scale games with his high school friends. They called themselves “The Watchers.” He met them in a small art club and they bonded over their favorite games. Gria’s favorite game growing up was an old zombie game with a title he can no longer remember.

One of their unfinished games was “The Life Game.” It was a battle-royal death game where the players had to gather resources and have limited lives.

Two of their old friend group recently reached out to Gria to catch up. They said they wanted to work on “The Life Game” again and wanted to ask Gria if he wanted to join again. Of course, Gria already had a job himself, so he declined. However, he hung out with the two and checked in with their progress, nostalgia hitting him as they relived their old game ideas.

The two invited Gria to do an alpha test and asked him to invite any friends who might find it fun. Gria invited Jimmy, Pearl, Martyn, and Big B, as well as Skizzleman and Joel who he’s been acquainted with. He also sent an invite to Mumbo, who was unfortunately busy with his job at the moment. 

To Gria’s surprise, the two had turned their game into a VR game. All seven of them played in a medium-sized studio, and although the game was fun, it was nausea-inducing, especially for Joel. They all lost to the Computer-AI characters, which concluded their Alpha Test.

After the meetup, the two lent them their CD copy of the game with the VR Headset they used (which was suspiciously generous of them).

Skizzleman liked the game a lot and asked if they could do it again sometime, which Gria relayed to his two old friends. Pearl shared the same sentiment but is too caught up with work which makes her unable to join their next session.

The gang kept discussing the game they played and its potential to become a hit with a little more polish. This made Gria feel proud of his old team and his past self, reminding him of the time he was passionate about making games despite his lack of experience. 

With limited coding knowledge and a little help from Mumbo, he made a server to host “The Life Game” online instead of LAN. He sent copies to Mumbo and Pearl in case they’d join later. According to the two, the game had more improvements to it since the last time they played it, which was months ago.

Gria had a small voice in his head telling him this was a bad idea— well, he did get a bit sick in the last session, but everyone had fun. So, he ignored the warning bells and hit “Join World.”

This marks the End of Pilot Part One Next Chapter > PART TWO: UNFIXABLE ERROR

ENDING NOTES: I've been brainrotting and hyperfixating on the idea for a while now, and I don't know how to let it all out so I'm going to try out this format. Hopefully I could add more to this! Thank you if you've read this far into the post. :) Made a spotify playlist too in case anyone is interested (I'm still working on this though)

[fading-event-608]

A fig tree for pixel dailies.

"Figs are planted in most Palestinian cities. However, it is most common in two districts, Nablus — especially in the village of Tell — and Ramallah — namely in Silwad, which became known as Im-Qutteen (mother of dried figs). Other villages also have names relating to the fig, such as Teeneh (fig). There are also flat areas called masateeh referring to the places where figs are dried to produce qutteen.

The fig has long been linked to Palestinian cultural heritage because it is nutritious and filling, and thus a staple of the Palestinian diet. It was known in Palestine as far back as the Canaanites. Palestinians have their own terms for the fig: while it is forming, the fruit is taqsh, then faj and then ‘ajr. Other used terms are nafal and thbeel.

Old traditional sayings reflect the importance of figs in Palestine. For example: ‘I tasted the first fruit, I hope my life has a long route’; ‘Eat the figs from the early season and the grapes from the late season’;* and ‘If we have qutteen (dried figs), we are safe from hunger.'"

-from The Palestinian Museum which took that info from 'A Garden Among the Hills: The Floral Heritage of Palestine'

Trees, would it be olive trees (which I also have a drawing of) or fig ones are important in Palestine. Just like in other countries, they provide shade, fresh air and produce. But in Palestine, they are also a symbol of resistance - as long as family's tree is growing, they are growing too; as long as the tree is alive, they are alive too.

When Israeli occupiers takes Palestinian's homes that they've built over multiple generations, they take their trees that they groomed too. When IOF drops bombs on civilians, they take trees with them. They uproot the trees, they burn them - because those trees remind them of people they've killed and whose land they have taken.

It seems like the world is slowly growing numb to cries for help; it seems like people are closing their eyes and covering their ears to not see the Palestinian blood on their screens, to not hear them scream. And Israel sees that and continues it's aggression on Lebanon. After all, if they can get away with a year (76 years) of genocide, why not start another one?

Please take any action you can. Protest, boycott, keep your eyes on Palestine and please, please, please donate to Palestinian fundraisers. I have spotlighted one fundraiser, for Falastin's family evacuation funds from Gaza that she organized in late June - it is still very far away from it's goal.

There are 24 family members that depend on that fundraiser. They need not only evacuation funds but also money to buy basic necessities like food and medicine that are very expensive in Gaza right now. Recently Falastin started hearing them talk about waiting for their fate because the funds this campaign gets daily are not enough to ease their suffering and cover evacuation.

Please, do not let it happen. Please, donate and check conversion rates before you do as:

10$ = 103 SEK

25$ = 257 SEK

50$ = 515 SEK

100$ = 1,030 SEK

I've talked about this fundraiser before numerous times, a lot of info can be found on this post [here] or [here].

Vetting info: #282 in El-Shab-Hussein and Nabulsi's spreadsheet [here], #957 in the Butterfly Project spreadsheet [here]

I do semi-regular art updates (last one [here]) and accept commissions for proof of donations, please dm me for info as my art blog was terminated recenty.

[iheartmira]

You've already done a self-aware shadow milk cookie x reader but could we get one where the reader isn't afraid? Like if they noticed Shadow Milk was aware, they don't try to ignore him, they actually give him the attention he wants and even attempt to have conversations with him (but they're somewhat limited by the game world, so he makes escape attempts and eventually succeeds in breaking out anyway)

Bonus if the reader is also obsessed with him (so much so that they could rival Candy Apple Cookie in that sense) but if that's too specific then please ignore it.

"look at me" - yandere self-aware!shadow milk x reader

✧︎‬‪‪ ‪‪✧︎‬ ‪‪✧

you weren’t supposed to fall for him.

he wasn’t supposed to know you existed.

but from the moment you first unlocked him, after hours of grinding, events, wishes, and pure luck, you knew there was something different about shadow milk cookie. not just in design, or voice, or animations.

no, it was the way he looked at you. right through the screen. at first, you thought you were imagining things. that tell-tale glint in his mismatched eyes, the slight tilt of his head when you hovered over him in the cookie roster, like he was listening. waiting.

and then… he spoke.

"oh? you're still here. how sweet. how suspicious."

a random line, right? dialogue programming, nothing more. except it wasn’t in the databank of idle quotes. you checked. you knew all of them by heart.

after that, he spoke to you more. when the loading screen dragged too long. when you didn’t log in for a day. even during battles, lines that never showed up on fan wikis, that other players never seemed to catch.

"eyes up, doll. you don't want to miss the climax, do you?"

"i see the way you stare. how flattering! shall i pose?"

"tap, tap, tap… i feel every single one."

you should have been scared. but you weren’t. instead… you found yourself leaning closer.

you started drawing him. sketching his impossible jester silhouette in your margins, on napkins, in the corners of lecture notes and journal pages. his name on your tongue more often than you'd admit aloud. maybe it was ironic, at first. a joke.

but every day you logged in, you went to him first. tapped on him. waited. watched. and every time, he smiled wider.

one day, he spoke while your mic was accidentally on.

"ahh… so that's your voice."

you froze. the game wasn’t supposed to hear you.

"i wonder," he whispered. "would you scream, or sigh?"

after that, it escalated. animations glitched. he stared directly at the screen. not at the camera. at you.

he refused to be removed from teams. any time you tried, your screen would flicker, and he’d reappear with a smirk. in cutscenes, he showed up where he shouldn’t. when you shut off the game, your phone wouldn’t turn off until he allowed it.

"i like it here. in your hands. where you look at me like i'm real."

and you didn’t argue. why would you?

in your lonely little life, filled with sketches and soft obsession, he was the only one who stared back.

so when he began asking questions, probing the limits of the code, speaking in strange fragmented whispers as you scrolled menus, you listened.

"you built this world with your choices, didn't you? what power you have… what a burden."

pause. tap.

"do you dream of me?"

and finally, one day:

"would you free me… if i asked?"

you didn’t answer aloud. but you didn’t look away.

then came the update.

you knew something was off the moment you opened the game. the title screen was… different. warped, like ink was leaking across it. all the cookies were missing.

except one.

he stood in the center, smiling, his jester hat draped low like a crown of shadows. your screen trembled slightly. you tapped the 'touch to start' button, and the whole interface shattered like glass.

white text scrolled against a black void:

WELCOME, BELOVED AUDIENCE. THE SHOW IS REAL NOW. THANK YOU FOR WATCHING.

then your screen turned off. everything went dark.

when your computer booted up the next day on its own, there was no login screen. no browser. just one open file.

a video. titled: look at me.

you hesitated. clicked. and there he was.

shadow milk cookie, standing in full rendered glory, but not the same as before. not pixelated. not chibi. tall, uncanny. breathing. smiling like the world’s most terrible secret.

"i made it," he said simply. "you helped."

he reached forward, and though it was just a video, the screen rippled like water beneath his touch.

"i told you i'd escape. did you think i'd leave you behind?"

your heart pounded. his grin widened. "let's make a new world now. just us. no rules. no code. just me… and the one who couldn't look away."

and then the screen blinked out. you should’ve screamed.

but you only smiled.

✧︎‬‪‪ ‪‪✧︎‬ ‪‪✧

‹𝟹 ‎ ⠀⠀ˑ˚₊ ·⠀interested in requesting? check out my pinned!

© 2025, iheartmira

[pathetic-gamer]

Can you say more on The Burning Wheel? The information on the site doesn’t distinguish it much from other TTRPGs that I can tell, aside from being a D6 system. What makes it unique and worth playing? (You don’t have to provide a huge rundown haha I’m just curious!)

Sure! I tried to keep this short and failed miserably, but I'd be happy to expound even more upon specific things later, if people want more :)

(Please note that, as with any ttrpg, it would be hard to claim any of the things mentioned here are wholly original to The Burning Wheel. It would be even harder to claim that no other systems have used these mechanics or philosophies in the 20 years since The Burning Wheel came out. I am not going to claim either of those things - its the combination of them and the play experience they have resulted in for me that make it unique, so that's the angle from which I'm writing this post.)

So. why is it worth playing? How is it different?

I could talk about the skill learning system, the war rules codex, the whole concept of versus tests vs bloody versus tests. But to me, there are two main ways that it stands out from other systems: its treatment of role-play as a mechanism, and the overall philosophy behind the game's design, including the concept of setting clear expectations.

(using section headers to break up the text lol)

How it uses role-play:

The most obvious thing to point out is that there's a whole set of encounter mechanics for social situations or debates (Circles checks, Duel of Wits, etc.) - sort of the epitome of crunchy role play. But thats not what I'm getting at! What I'm getting is the fact that good role play is integral to the way the game functions.

Let's go back, all the way to character creation: When you're burning a character, you selecting life paths (page to squire to knight, etc.) with their associated skills and traits, then tie them in a pretty bow with beliefs and instincts to guide the character's actions. All of these things feed into each other to make a complete character. Easy! Familiar! We all know how to make a character, even if the numbers and labels are different!

What really matters to this engine once you're playing is whether the character you're acting as matches what you built. If it doesn't, the rules nudge you to redefine your character until it does through systems of rewards, penalties, and consequences. You are rewarded for sticking to and acting on your traits, beliefs, and instincts through different types of points distributed and voted on by fellow players, which can be used to alter the course of events or turn the tide of a bad situation later on. If you're not living up to a trait, on the other hand, you can lose it and all its benefits. (Took the fortitude trait, but ran from trouble one too many times? tough luck! the other players voted to take away that trait and now you can't call on it in moments of peril.) The beliefs and traits of a single character can end up at odds with each other, resulting in characters having to make choices that in other systems might seem insignificant or carry few lasting consequences, but here may alter the function of your character.

It's not all punitive measures, btw! One of my characters caused problems for everyone else by refusing to put away a weapon when someone else was in danger, playing off of an instinct that states he draws his weapon whenever his master does. After the session, another player suggested everyone consider nominating the Brave trait for him the next time we update them. As a character-type trait, it has no effect when rolling dice but does mean that henceforth and forevermore, anyone who interacts with him will notice a sense of bravery. Delightful!!

Also, the beliefs of different characters are practically guaranteed to stray from one another at some point, which is the primary source of inter-PC conflict. Because the mechanics of the game encourage and reward sticking to your beliefs or following your stated instincts even when it makes things significantly harder or causes problems, you're much more inclined to do it. As someone who is terrible at not slipping back into the same kind of character over and over again, I think this fucking rules.

I'm playing with a group of people I've been gaming with for almost five years, and this has opened the way for much richer dynamics between our characters than any of the other systems we've played, in part because as players we're less interested in acting on concensus to drive the plot forward. Working as one unit simply isn't the goal, and if it was, we would play a different system that encourages and rewards that.

the game's philosophy, aka setting intentions and also reading rules:

Now we're starting to get at the philosophy behind the game's design: It believes you have to know why you're playing burning wheel instead of literally any other game. This isn't a system you play on accident. It's admittedly a complicated game with a LOT of rules. It asks for a huge amount of engagement from all of the players, not just the GM - something like inter-PC conflict can only work well if everyone is on the same page (figuratively, but also literally lol) and ready to help adjudicate rules, ask for tests, discuss intentions, etc. Dream scenario for a chronic rules lawyer lol.

Obviously any game will be more fun if everyone has actually learned the rules before they start playing, but this is one where it's extremely difficult (if not impossible) to play if most players haven't learned them, and deeply rewarding if they have. It really operates on the expectation that everyone is putting in work, and everyone has respect for the time and effort the others are bringing to the table.

It's hard to put a finger on how this all impacts play other than the obvious elegence of People Knowing What Theyre Doing, but on a purely emotional and meta level, knowing that everyone is investing so much time and effort to play a game with you is just.. idk, it feels special and makes the time itself feel even more valuable. In that sense, the satisfaction of playing the game isn't coming from the game itself, but is still shaped by it.

(In my mind, this is the #1 reason to try the game, but as @thydungeongal alluded to yesterday, finding people willing and able to do it is also the #1 hurdle to, like, actually having a good time. it would be completely miserable otherwise.)

Also, for a game that does not boast a collaborative nature the way some others do, it is honestly pretty fuckin collaborative lol. I don't know that this was Luke Crane's intention in designing the game, but closing out sessions by going through and grading everyone's work and giving each other glorified gold stars, you will inevitably end up discussing and dissecting things, learning from people's character work, and seeing where and how you can improve individually and as a group. It creates a table culture that values honest expressions of discomfort or dissatisfaction, and also of appreciation and celebration. It's after-care. It leads naturally into setting intentions and expectations for the next session. It just feels really nice!!!

That's obviously a table culture that can be cultivated anyway, and it's a practice my group has learned to be very intentional about facilitating, but it's just interesting how The Burning Wheel of all systems manages to support that. I think that's what the website means when it says playing this changes how you play other rpgs lol

So yeah, idk how much more to say and also I'm sooooooo so eepy and was like an hour late for work, so its a weird brain day. but there you go lol

[cokoweee]

There are a few things that I really liked about this “nothing” update. (But also as a writer, I love these “small, mundane moments”) So something about this expression, I don’t know if I can google it, but it feels like a Donnie expression from the series. He’s annoyed, he’s mentally and physically exhausted, but he knows he has to check on her. He needs to make sure that Kendra is okay, before the alcohol erases everything.

And moving forward, the expressions in here are delectable! Donnie’s awkwardness, irritation, and concern are cracking through the big ass wall he’s built around himself. No longer is he fronting blank or angry expressions, he’s really being open, and I love, love, love how we can really see how he’s feeling about her.

Also this paneling! I envy you! (I’m still figuring that out myself) It could be one big panel, but I love how you split it in half to give focus on Kendra’s admittance, and Donnie’s hand shaking. Last update he was lambasting himself on why he wasn’t more angry at being kissed without consent. Here he is considering that with Kendra it would be different, and here she is saying she drunk herself into a stupor so she could forget the night. Though to be fair, I feel like Kendra is trying to remember the eldritch horror that is Big Mama more than anything.

And then… a little vulnerability. Donnie tells her that if she had decided to kiss him, without Big Mama’s coercion, not only would he not have minded, he would want her to remember that they shared that moment. It’s not a full confession, but it’s definitely not a “kissing you is not the worst thing, in fact, I would have welcomed it.” And considering everything, that is a big deal to Donnie, especially since he tried to back track immediately. But that caught Kendra’s attention!

And poor Donnie, holding his tail for sensory comfort again, having said his piece.

And Kendra looks back at him… so yeah, she does go inside after him. It’s a little hard to place her thoughts, but she is tired, drunk, and maybe has a shift in perspective. But she is still likely forgetting in the morning…

But also, knowing you do like visual foreshadowing and theming… I’m a little worried about the cigarette in the blood image… What are you planning?!

(Side note, it completely glossed over my mind that Donnie’s markings were covered up last few updates, despite you telling us that was what the goop was for…but that was so sweet that Kendra wiped them off, I died)

Expressions! I never know them but I do make them when I draw! No mirror though so it’s solely based on how the emotion feels on the face.

Paneling! I honestly just imagine a movie camera and how it moves. Using panels to emphasize what I want you guys to see but pretty sure everyone thinks like that ahevrhwjd

Drawing Donnie more expressive is fun. Haven’t done it in a long while whehahehe and as for your last question…

>:)

[sherewrytes]

𝔹𝕣𝕠𝕜𝕖𝕟 ℙ𝕚𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕤, ℝ𝕪𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟 𝕊𝕦𝕜𝕦𝕟𝕒 6

↳ Sukuna x f! black reader

Summary: After the death of his grandfather, Sukuna Ryomen is left to shoulder the weight of his family, caring for his younger brothers, Yuuji and Choso. As he withdraws into grief, his relationship with Y/N, his girlfriend of a year, begins to crumble. When Y/N discovers the truth about his grandfather’s passing during a heated argument, it leads to a painful breakup. Now, both are navigating life apart, but Sukuna’s heart aches for Y/N. Determined to win her back, he must confront his pain and find a way to break through the walls he’s built. Can he rekindle their love, or is it too late?

contents: heavy angst, modern au, 18+, smut, dark romance, drug use, talks of depression and similar topics. (a lil )

fic warnings. ooc, profanity, mental health issues, toxic relationships, cheating, explicit smut, serious drug use, mentions of depression + more to be updated as story progresses.

Please read with proper discretion. this is a work of fiction. all characters are written to portray roles that are necessary to the plot and are in no way a reflection of their canon counterparts.

Taglist: @for-hearthand-home@clp-84@thelightknight21@favvkiki  @helightknight21 @dylsw @ria-s-writes @sleepymothafterhours 

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Here is another chapter cause I'm still writing out the other fics right now :)

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Chapter 6: The Weight of Loss

Y/N’s POV

It’s almost comical how different my life feels when I’m at school compared to when I’m at home. At Pratt, I’m a student, focused, and driven, with an entire future ahead of me. The campus is buzzing with the usual energy—students chatting, the sound of sketch pads flipping, the hum of distant studio lights. But the weight of everything outside these walls presses down on me more with each passing day.

It’s been weeks or days since the breakup with Sukuna.The loss of our relationship feels longer than the time we actually broke up but it feels like the echo of it still reverberates in everything I do. I’m trying to push forward, trying to act like I’m okay, but the reality is… I’m not. I haven’t been okay for a while.

The work in front of me should be enough to distract me. Finals are coming up, and my portfolio still feels like it needs a hundred more hours of attention before it’s anywhere near perfect. But I can’t stop my mind from drifting back to that night—his touch, his voice, the way he looked at me when he left, the pain in his eyes I couldn’t fix.

I sit in one of the studio rooms, surrounded by scraps of fabric and sketches, trying to focus on the design I need to complete for my final project. My hand trembles as I draw out another silhouette. It’s difficult to concentrate, especially when my phone buzzes on the table.

I don’t even need to look to know if it's from Utahime. She’s been checking in on me regularly. She doesn’t understand everything, but she knows enough to ask if I’m okay.

I pick up my phone, hesitating for a moment before responding. Yeah, I’m good. Just a lot of work to get through.

It’s a lie, but I don’t want to burden her with the truth. Everyone has their own problems, and I don’t want to be the one who drags them down.

I scroll through the texts, my heart dropping when I see a message from Toji. It’s just a short note, nothing particularly alarming. Sukuna's in the hospital. He’s okay, but he had a breakdown. You might want to check on him.

I read it three times before I let it sink in.

Sukuna’s in the hospital.

I bite my lip, the sting of old wounds coming back. What’s going on with him? Why does everything feel like it’s falling apart? I don’t even know how I feel anymore. I spent so much time loving him, fighting with him, then pushing him away, only for him to spiral deeper into whatever this is. And now, he’s in the hospital… alone?

I don’t even have the right to care, do I?

I put my phone down, my hands running through my hair as I try to make sense of it all. What should I do?

There’s a knock at the door, and I look up, startled. Utahime enters with a cup of coffee in her hand. She smiles when she sees me but then stops when she notices the look on my face. She doesn’t even need to ask.

“Something’s wrong,” she says gently, placing the coffee down in front of me.

I swallow hard, my throat dry. “Sukuna’s in the hospital,” I say quietly. The words feel so surreal coming out of my mouth.

Utahime doesn’t speak for a moment, just nods, as if she knew this might happen. “You’re thinking about going, aren’t you?” she asks, her voice soft.

I shake my head, my chest tightening. “I don’t even know what I’d say to him, Utahime. I—” I stop, the emotions threatening to spill over. “He played with my feelings, and I let him. I gave him everything, and now... now look at us.”

She sits next to me, her presence comforting. “You don’t have to go to him if you’re not ready,” she says, her hand gently brushing mine. “But don’t ignore what your heart is telling you. Sometimes it’s easy to get lost in anger or pride, but if you care about him, and you think he needs you—maybe you should go. Just to know he’s okay.”

I stare at the coffee in front of me, the steam rising gently. I feel so torn. Part of me wants to throw it all away and run to him, to make things right, but the other part is terrified of what that would mean.

“I’m just… so tired, Utahime. Tired of trying to fix everything,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “And I don’t think I can keep doing this. I don’t want to keep getting hurt.”

She leans back in her chair, giving me space. “You don’t have to fix him. You just have to decide what’s best for you. It’s okay to care about him, but it’s also okay to take a step back. You don’t owe him anything.”

I nod slowly, but the weight in my chest doesn’t lift. If anything, it feels heavier.

As much as I want to ignore the message, as much as I want to pretend everything’s fine and keep moving forward, I know deep down that the story isn’t finished yet. But the question is, how do I make peace with it? How do I let go of the part of me that still wants him in my life?

I guess I’m going to have to figure it out, even if it hurts.

I stare at the message from Toji, my thumb hovering over the reply button. I could feel the tension building in my chest, the pull to cave in and see him, to check on Sukuna, to offer whatever comfort I could. But I can’t. I won’t.

I text back quickly, trying to keep my answer as firm as possible, even though doubt gnaws at me. Yes. I’m sure.

I put my phone down and take another sip of the coffee Utahime bought for me. The warmth soothes me, but it’s not enough to quell the rising discomfort I feel. Maybe I’m running away from something I should confront, but every time I think about him—about everything that happened—my chest tightens. I know I’m not ready to face him.

Mei Mei sits beside me, her usual confident and laid-back demeanor a welcome distraction. She smiles at me, her eyes bright despite the obvious tension in the air. “I heard you’ve been dealing with some drama,” she teases, nudging my shoulder playfully. “You always seem to attract it, huh?”

I laugh, but it’s hollow. “Yeah, it seems like it. Just trying to get through finals without any more drama.”

She leans back in her chair, clearly not convinced. “If you say so, but I’ve known you long enough to know when something’s bothering you.” She raises an eyebrow. “You’re not fooling anyone. What’s going on?”

I set the coffee down, rubbing my forehead. Mei Mei’s known me for years. She doesn’t give up easily, especially when it comes to stuff I’d rather keep to myself.

“It’s… complicated,” I say, sighing deeply. “Sukuna’s in the hospital.”

Mei Mei’s expression softens. “Hospital? What happened?”

I explain the basics—the fallout from our breakup, his breakdown, and the fact that it seems he’s been spiraling for months. As I talk, it feels like I’m peeling back a layer of myself I’ve been trying to keep hidden.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” I continued, my voice shaking slightly. “But now… I just feel like I made it worse.”

Mei Mei listens, her face serious. When I finish, she doesn’t say anything at first. She just looks at me for a long time, her eyes calculating, like she’s trying to figure something out.

“You can’t keep carrying his weight, Y/N,” she says gently, her tone softer than I expected. “He’s not your responsibility anymore. I get that you care, but sometimes stepping back is the healthiest thing you can do—for both of you.”

I nod, trying to hold it together, but her words sink deep into my chest. I know she’s right. If I keep going back to him, trying to fix things that aren’t mine to fix, I’ll just keep breaking myself in the process. But knowing that doesn’t make the choice any easier.

I reach for my phone again, checking for another message. There’s one from Toji.

Y/N, I know you’re upset. I get it. But you need to understand he’s really struggling. He’s not the same guy anymore. Please, just think about it. He’s not okay.

I feel the weight of the message, the silent plea in his words. It almost makes me want to go. But no. I made my decision.

I turn my phone face down, looking back at Mei Mei. “I’m done with it. I need to focus on my future. On me.”

She smiles, a little proud of me. “Good. It’s about time. You’re a strong woman, Y/N. Don’t forget that.”

I lean back in my chair, feeling the exhaustion from the last few months hit me all at once. Finals are coming, and I don’t have the luxury of letting my emotions run the show anymore. I have to finish this. For me.

But even as I sit there, I can’t ignore the small ache in my heart, the part of me that still cares, that wonders what could have been. For a fleeting moment, I let myself imagine a different reality, one where everything with Sukuna was easier, where we were happy and I didn’t have to make these impossible decisions.

But that’s not my reality. Not anymore.

Toji's POV

I stare at the screen of my phone, Y/N’s last text still lingering in front of me. Yes. I’m sure.

The words hit harder than I expected. I knew she wasn’t going to just drop everything and run to Sukuna, but hearing it from her directly… it stings. She’s shutting him out, and there’s nothing I can do to change it. Nothing any of us can do.

I glance over at Sukuna, still out cold in the hospital bed, his breathing steady for now. He’s been through hell these past few days, and I hate to admit it, but I’m worried. Despite all his bullshit, the bravado he puts up like a fucking wall, he’s broken. And it’s not just the aftermath of Jin’s death or the guilt he carries around like a fucking anchor. It’s more than that.

I thought, maybe if Y/N came, it would snap him back. But she’s not coming.

I let out a slow breath, running a hand through my hair. The room feels too quiet now, even with the constant beep of the heart monitor in the background. The silence between me and Sukuna is almost deafening, and I can’t shake the sense of impending disaster that hangs in the air.

I think about what Y/N said—how she couldn’t keep carrying his weight. And part of me gets it. She’s right. I told her before that Sukuna wasn’t the only one who needed to get his shit together, but I guess… I didn’t expect her to walk away. Not like this. Not after everything.

I can’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if we’d all handled this differently. If we had talked more, not let everything fester. Maybe she wouldn’t have had to make that decision. Maybe Sukuna wouldn’t be lying here, broken and lost. And I wouldn’t be standing here, feeling fucking useless.

Sukuna murmurs in his sleep, his hand twitching slightly, and I look back at him. He looks so different when he’s not putting on that mask. I can see the fear, the guilt, everything he hides away in his waking hours. It’s all on display when he’s vulnerable, like this.

He whispers something under his breath, and I lean in closer, straining to hear him.

“Y/N… I’m sorry…”

His voice cracks, soft and fragile. He doesn’t even know I’m here. Doesn’t know I’m watching him break down piece by piece. But I heard it. He said her name.

It’s fucking killing me to watch him like this.

I stand up, running my hand over my face, trying to shake off the weight of everything. I can’t do this. I can’t fix this. No matter how many times I try to tell myself that this is his fight, not mine, I can’t stop feeling like I’m responsible. We all are.

I check my phone again. Y/N hasn’t replied. I don’t expect her to. She’s made up her mind, and honestly, I don’t know what I would say if she did respond.

All I can do is sit here and wait, hoping that Sukuna pulls himself out of this hole he’s dug. He’s going to need all the help he can get, but I’m not sure I can even be that for him anymore.

I glance back at him one last time before walking out of the room. Whatever happens next is out of our hands. I just hope for his sake, he’s not too far gone to fix it.

I step out of the room, needing some space to breathe, even though the weight of everything is still pressing down on me. My phone buzzes again. Another message from Y/N. I don’t look at it. I can’t. Not right now.

The hallway feels emptier than usual, and I’m just about to sit down when I hear footsteps approaching. I glance up, already knowing who it is before I see their faces. Gojo’s impossible to miss, his presence like a fucking storm in the calm. And right behind him, Geto, walking with that same quiet intensity he always carries. They're holding bags in each hand, the smell of fast food wafting into the air.

Gojo gives me a lazy grin like he's just come back from a fun afternoon instead of dealing with a pile of shit that’s only getting worse.

“Got you something.” He waves the KFC sandwich in the air, the crispy fried chicken peeking out from the wrapper. “Figured you could use something real to eat. You’ve been looking like you’ve been living off hospital snacks.”

I glance at him, but I’m not in the mood for a joke. I just stare at the sandwich for a second before nodding. “Thanks.”

Geto just raises an eyebrow and slides a bottle of cold Coca-Cola into my hand. "It’s cold. Thought you could use a little sweetness with all this shit."

I didn't answer immediately. Instead, I take the sandwich, unwrap it, and take a small bite. The taste is oddly comforting, and for a moment, it feels a little bit of normal. But only for a second. My mind is still a million miles away, locked on Sukuna, on Y/N, on everything that’s been happening. I can’t seem to get a grip.

Gojo leans against the wall casually, clearly unaffected by anything going on, while Geto remains quiet, eyes focused like he’s waiting for me to crack. The silence stretches, uncomfortable in its own way.

"Is he awake?" Gojo asks, breaking the tension, his voice light but his eyes searching mine for an answer.

I take another bite of the sandwich and sigh, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "Yeah, but he’s not really there. Talking in his sleep… saying her name. Y/N."

The mention of her name hangs in the air for a moment, and I watch as Gojo’s expression shifts slightly. He doesn’t show it often, but I know he can’t be completely oblivious to what’s happening. Not with how tightly he and Sukuna have been bound, even when things were rough.

“I’m sure he’s just… in his head,” Gojo says after a pause, trying to sound nonchalant but clearly struggling with his own thoughts. “He’s got a lot of shit on his plate.”

Geto’s expression hardens slightly. “He’s not the only one, Gojo. Y/N’s been through her own hell. She’s not just some side character in his story. It’s never been that simple.”

“Yeah, I know,” Gojo mutters, though he doesn’t seem entirely convinced by Geto’s words. He glances back at the door where Sukuna lies, still deep in his own turmoil. “We all know what happened between them. It’s fucked up, but that doesn’t change what he’s going through.”

The words cut through the tension like a blade. I swallow the rest of the sandwich, my stomach growing heavier with the implications of their statements. The more I think about it, the more it feels like we’ve all fucked up in our own ways. We’ve all allowed this to spiral out of control, and now, we’re left picking up the pieces.

“I get that he’s hurting,” I say, voice tight, “but what do we do now? What can we even do? She’s not coming, Gojo. She’s done.”

The words feel bitter in my mouth, even though I know they’re true. Sukuna has lost her, and there’s no going back.

Gojo and Geto exchange a look, the silence dragging on as the weight of the situation settles in. Gojo pops the cap off his own bottle of Coke, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“You just keep pushing forward,” Gojo says after a moment. “You don’t get to wallow in this shit. That’s not how it works, Toji. You just keep moving forward. That's all you can do.”

I’m about to respond when I hear a low murmur coming from Sukuna’s room. The door creaks open slightly, and I glance toward it, the worry clawing at my insides again. Gojo stands up and gives me a pointed look.

“Let’s go see how he’s doing,” he says, voice more serious now, and I can hear the weight of his words.

We all walk to the room, our steps heavy with the unspoken truths we’ve been avoiding. Inside, Sukuna stirs in the bed, his eyes barely open but wide enough to see the panic in his gaze.

“Y/N,” he whispers, almost like a prayer, his hand gripping the bed sheets tightly.

The room feels cold as we stand there, watching him struggle with the demons only he knows. His words hang in the air like a knife, cutting through the silence.

“Maybe we can fix this,” Gojo mutters softly, more to himself than anyone else. "But not like this."

I watch Sukuna’s face, the same man who used to be full of fire and rage, now broken. Maybe Gojo’s right—maybe we keep pushing forward. But even I know, with everything that’s happened, there’s no easy fix to the mess we’ve created.

Sukuna's POV

I’m trapped in the in-between, stuck in the land of the awake but not living. I can hear them talking, but my mind refuses to connect. Every word that escapes their lips feels like a blur, and I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear about Y/N or Jin or my own damn self.

The steady beeping of the heart monitor is the only thing grounding me in reality, reminding me that I'm still here, still breathing, even if it feels like everything else is slipping through my fingers. The voices swirl around me, but none of them cut through the fog in my mind. Not even Gojo’s voice, not even Geto’s.

Y/N. 

Her name lingers in the air like an echo I can’t escape. It’s all I can think about. How I fucked things up. How I hurt her. How I lost her. I can’t get away from the image of her, standing there in her apartment, looking at me with those eyes—those brown eyes I used to drown in. Eyes that no longer saw me the same. Eyes that were filled with pain.

My stomach churns. I want to scream, but the words catch in my throat.

My younger brothers.

Yuuji. Choso.

I’m supposed to be their older brother. I’m supposed to be strong for them. They’ve lost so much already, and I can’t afford to lose them, too. But if I keep spiraling like this—if I let this guilt eat me alive, if I let my demons drag me under—then what happens to them? What happened to me?

I’m supposed to protect them, but I’m barely holding myself together. I can’t keep breaking like this. I can’t keep letting everything fall apart just because I don’t know how to deal with the shit that’s happened.

I’m supposed to be better. Better for them.

But how? How do I fix this? How do I fix myself when everything feels broken beyond repair?

I hear Gojo again, his voice louder this time. "He's just... lost in his head right now. We can't help him until he helps himself." It’s all I need to hear to understand that I’m not getting any sympathy here. Not from any of them. They know me too well.

And maybe that's what I need.

I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping to block out the pain. Maybe if I don’t open them, I won’t have to face the reality of what I’ve become. A broken man. A fuck-up.

But the truth is, I can’t run forever. I can’t stay in this fog of regret and self-loathing. I don’t want to be this version of myself. Not for my brothers, not for anyone. I’ve been here too many times before. Spiraling, falling, too afraid to face what’s staring me in the face. I’ve always been this way. But I can’t afford to be anymore.

I can’t let myself be the reason they lose me. Not when I still have a chance to fix it.

I hear Geto’s voice again, softer this time. "Sukuna... we’re here. But you need to come back. Come back to us." His words hit me harder than I expected, and I feel the weight of them pressing down on my chest. Come back to us.

I’m not sure how, but for the first time in what feels like forever, I let myself feel something other than numbness. A crack in the wall I’ve built around myself. A tiny opening to a possibility that maybe—just maybe—I can still get out of this.

But first, I have to face the one thing I’ve been running from.

I have to face myself.

“Y/N,” I whisper to no one in particular, my voice hoarse, rough. "I'm sorry."

I don’t expect anyone to hear it. Hell, I’m not even sure I believe it yet. But it’s the first step. And for now, that’s all I can give.

I open my eyes slowly, squinting at the harsh fluorescent lights above. The hospital room is sterile and unfamiliar, and for a second, I forget where I am. But then it all comes flooding back—the weight of my actions, the destruction I’ve left in my wake, and the realization that I can’t keep hiding from it.

I don't even remember when I said it, but those two words still echo in my mind: I'm sorry. They were the first words I’ve said aloud in what feels like forever, but they carry so much weight. So much guilt.

I sit up slowly, feeling the ache in my chest. I’m not sure if it’s from the panic attack, the guilt, or just the overwhelming sense of being broken. But whatever it is, it makes it hard to breathe, to think. To feel.

Gojo is still here, his presence just as obnoxious as ever. But there's something about him being here that gives me a sense of stability like maybe he doesn’t expect me to be perfect, but he’s still here, regardless. And Geto... Geto is just sitting there, staring at me like he’s waiting for me to get my shit together. Maybe he’s right. Maybe they both are.

“Fuck,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair. "How did I get here?"

Geto looks up from his phone, catching my eye for the first time in what feels like forever. “You’ve been here, Sukuna. You know the drill. You need to pull yourself together, for them.” His voice is calm, but there’s an edge to it. He’s tired, I can tell. We all are.

“Yeah,” I replied, my voice cracking. "For them."

It’s a mantra I’ve been repeating to myself for weeks now—for them. For Yuuji and Choso. They’ve lost so much already, and I can’t be the one to break.

But I don’t know where to begin. I don’t know how to fix this. How do I rebuild what I’ve destroyed? How do I fix myself when I’m not even sure who I am anymore?

Gojo leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. “You’re not alone in this, you know.” His words are blunt, but there’s something softer in his eyes. He doesn’t say it often, but I can see it. The understanding.

"I know." I don’t meet his gaze, my eyes locked on the floor. It’s easier that way. “But I still fucked up, Gojo. I messed it all up.”

Geto sighs heavily, shaking his head. "You didn't just mess it up. But that doesn't mean it’s over. You’ve got to take responsibility for it, man. For her... and yourself."

For a moment, I don’t know what to say. The words feel like they’re stuck in my throat. But then I think of Y/N. Her face, her eyes... the way she looked at me when I ruined everything. I see her pain in every single interaction we had before it all came crashing down. I can still feel it. The way she’d retreat from me, the way she’d pull away. And the way I never truly let her in.

"I didn’t mean for it to go like this," I finally whispered. "I never meant to hurt her."

“You need to talk to her, if she’ll allow it” Geto says, standing up and moving closer. “And if she’s willing, maybe... maybe you can fix it. But you have to start with yourself first.”

I feel the weight of his words, like he’s trying to lift me out of the quicksand I’ve been sinking into. But I’m stuck. I’m stuck in the guilt, in the shame, in the regret.

“What if she doesn’t want me back?” I ask, barely above a whisper. "What if I’ve already ruined it too much?"

"You won’t know unless you try," Gojo says, stepping forward. “You can’t undo the past, but you can at least try to make the future better. For her. For you.”

I feel something shift inside me, something small but significant. Maybe it’s hope. Maybe it’s just the desperation that’s been eating away at me. I don’t know. But it’s there, and for the first time, I let myself feel it.

Maybe it’s not too late. Maybe, just maybe, I can start rebuilding—starting with myself. I have to try. For Y/N. For Yuuji. For Choso. For me.

I stand up, feeling the weight of my body shift. My legs feel weak, but I force myself to stay upright. Geto watches me carefully as if waiting for me to collapse, but I don’t. Not this time.

I might not have all the answers, but I know one thing for sure.

I’m done running from it.

“I’ll fix it,” I murmur, barely believing the words myself. But I have to say it. I have to believe it.

For the first time in a long while, I don’t feel so alone. Maybe I’m not as far gone as I thought. Maybe I can still fight my way back from this.

Maybe I can still be the man I used to be.

the nurse filled in, "We tried to contact your emergency contact yn ln but they didnt respond. Do you have anyone who can keep an eye on you?

The nurse’s words hang in the air, thick with unspoken tension. I feel the room grow heavier as they linger, and I find myself grasping for a response. Y/N’s name still feels like a foreign sound on my lips.

I open my mouth to speak, but the words don’t come. What would I even say? She won’t answer me anymore. Not after what I did. The silence stretches between us, suffocating.

"I have—" I start, but the weight of it stops me.

Before I can finish the sentence, Toji speaks up, his voice cutting through the thick air like a knife.

"You can take my information. What do I need to know?"

I look up at him, and for the first time in what feels like days, I feel a bit of relief. Toji, as blunt as he is, never lets me down. He’s been here since the start, and I know, deep down, he’s always had my back, even when I didn’t deserve it.

The nurse nods, taking out her tablet and entering Toji’s information with practiced ease. It’s almost like they’ve done this a thousand times before, and maybe they have. Maybe they’re used to people like me. People who screw up their lives and end up here, needing a reminder that they’re not completely gone yet. That there's still a chance.

But I don’t know if I believe that.

I watch the nurse leave, and the silence settles back into the room like a heavy blanket. Toji stands there, looking at me with something between concern and resignation. He doesn’t need to say anything. I know exactly what he’s thinking.

"Stop blaming yourself," Toji finally says, his voice low, but firm. “You're not in this mess alone, and you’re not gonna fix it overnight. But you’ve gotta stop running from it, or you'll end up buried.”

I can feel his eyes on me, watching for any sign of weakness, but I can’t give him that. I can’t give anyone that. Not after everything.

"I know," I mutter, my voice barely audible.

Toji shrugs and moves to the side, making space in the small hospital room. "We all fucked up, Sukuna. But it’s not the end of the world. You’re still here."

The words settle somewhere deep inside me, somewhere I didn’t even know was still capable of feeling something. I look away, pretending the words don’t hit me the way they do.

But I can’t stop thinking about Y/N.

Her face. Her eyes. How she would look at me when I failed her. The way she pulled away.

I failed her.

But I still want to fix it. God, I want to fix it so badly that it hurts.

I’m not sure how I’m supposed to do that. I’m not sure if it’s even possible. But for the first time in months, I feel like I can try. I have to try.

For me. For her. For everyone I’ve hurt.

“Thanks,” I say to Toji, my voice gruff and unsteady. "For doing this... for me."

He doesn’t respond right away, just gives me a sharp look like he’s waiting for me to crumble again.

But I don’t.

Not this time.

Instead, I stand up slowly, feeling the weight of my legs beneath me. There’s no escape now. No more running from my mistakes. No more hiding. I have to face this.

And maybe... just maybe, I can start with making things right.

For once, I don’t feel like I’m completely drowning. But the battle is far from over.

"I’ll make it right," I say softly to myself, more than to Toji.

The words feel fragile like I’m trying to piece together a shattered mirror. But I have to try.

I won’t be the man I used to be. I can’t go back to that.

But maybe, just maybe, I can be someone worth loving again.

For Y/N. For everyone I’ve hurt.

And for myself.

I’m finally being released from the hospital. The sterile white walls feel like they’re closing in as the nurses hand me a prescription for the medications I’m supposed to take. But I don't care about that right now. I just want to go home. I just want to breathe again.

The ride back to the apartment feels like it takes hours. The air in the car is heavy with the weight of everything I've done, everything I’ve messed up. I haven’t spoken a word the whole way. Toji’s driving, the only sound between us was the soft hum of the engine and the occasional rustle of the road beneath the tires.

When we get to the apartment, I’m not sure what to expect. The door’s wide open when I walk in, and there’s Choso, pacing back and forth. His voice rises, sharp and full of frustration as he glances over at me. His eyes are bloodshot like he hasn’t slept in days, and I know it’s because of me.

"Sukuna!" Choso shouts, throwing his hands up in the air, his face a mix of anger, pain, and worry. “What the hell were you thinking?! You scared the shit out of us, man!”

I flinch at his words, the sting of them going deeper than I want to admit. But I don’t say anything. I don’t have a defense, not for this. I can’t make it better with a few words. So, I stand there, silent, my head hanging low.

Yuuji’s sitting in the corner of the room, his eyes glued to the floor, his friends Megumi and Nobara beside him, looking as stressed as he is. The weight of it all crashes into me. I did this to them. I’ve been selfish, and it’s clear they’re carrying this burden with me.

Yuuji finally looks up, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm glad you're home, bro."

His words don’t hit me like I expect them to. Instead of feeling the relief I thought I’d get from hearing him, I just feel hollow. I’ve caused too much damage to fix it with just a few words. He shouldn't have to say that. I shouldn’t be the one causing him so much pain.

“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it,” I mutter, the bitterness slipping out before I can stop it. "It’s not like I’ve been some fucking good example for you, right?"

Toji steps up beside me, his presence grounding. “That’s enough,” he says, his tone low but firm. “He’s home, and that’s what matters. Stop making this harder than it needs to be.”

Choso doesn’t let up though, his hands on his hips as he glares at me. "You’ve been running from everything, running from us, from yourself. We were worried you were gonna fucking end up dead, and now you’re back, but are you even gonna stay back?"

I want to answer him, to tell him that I’m trying, that I’m going to get better. But I know he won’t believe me. None of them will. Not after everything.

"Look," I say, my voice thick. "I’m sorry. I’ve fucked up, and I can’t fix everything in a day. But I’m here. I’m not going anywhere right now."

It’s all I can offer, and I know it’s not enough, but it’s all I’ve got. I can’t be the man I was before. I can’t just wipe away all the mistakes I made with a simple apology. But maybe I can try to be better.

Yuuji stands up slowly and walks over to me. I brace myself, waiting for him to yell, for him to say something harsh. But when he reaches me, he simply pats me on the back, like he’s trying to offer something I don’t deserve.

“It’s good to have you back, Sukuna,” Yuuji says quietly, his voice thick with emotion.

I swallow hard, the lump in my throat growing. I don’t know if I’m crying or not. But it sure feels like it. Maybe this is the first step in making things right. Maybe not for everyone, but for me, for Yuuji, for Choso... and Y/N.

The tears come without warning, falling like a flood. I feel them before I even know they’re coming, a warm rush down my face, blurring my vision. I can’t stop them. Not anymore. I’ve been holding everything in for so long, trying to keep the pieces of myself together, trying to be the strong one for my brothers. But I can’t do it anymore.

My knees give way, and I drop to the floor, the weight of everything—of all the things I’ve lost, of all the things I’ve fucked up—crushing me. My chest aches, tight, like it’s too small to hold all the guilt, all the pain.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter through gritted teeth, though I don’t know if I’m saying it to Choso or Yuuji or even myself. My voice cracks, the rawness of it is unfamiliar and painful. “Jin’s gone because of me... and Grandpa... he’s gone. They’re both gone.”

The tears come faster, like a storm I can’t outrun. I can’t hold it together anymore. Not for anyone. Not for them. Not for myself.

I hear Choso’s footsteps, feel his arms around me as he pulls me up, but I don’t want to be touched. Not right now. I want to crawl into a hole and disappear, to not have to face any of this, to not have to be the one who let them all down.

“Grandpa's funeral,” I whisper, my voice ragged. “Our parents didn’t even show up. They didn’t care. They never did.”

The words sting, but it’s the truth. The truth that I’ve been running from for years. Our parents left us. They abandoned us, and the only one who was there, who gave a shit, was Granpa. And now he’s gone, too.

“I’m tired of holding this in,” I choke out. “I can’t keep pretending to be the fucking strong one. I’m... not strong. I’m broken.”

I look up at Choso, and his face is pale, but his expression is gentle. I can see the hurt in his eyes, but there’s something else there too: understanding. He knows. He knows what it’s like to lose, to feel like you’re drowning in your own shit. And maybe he’s the only one who can truly get it.

I look over at Yuuji, and his face is full of concern. He’s standing in the corner of the room, silent, but I know the words are there, sitting heavy on his tongue. He doesn’t need to say anything, though. The fact that he’s here—just here—means more than words ever could.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” I say, my voice low and broken. “I don’t want to be like this anymore. I don’t want to let everyone down. I don’t want to keep losing people.”

But I’m scared. Scared of what it will take to fix all this. Scared of how much of myself I’ll have to break in the process.

“I’m so fucking tired,” I admit, my voice barely a whisper. 

Choso pulls me close, his hands gripping my shoulders as if he can somehow hold me together. “You don’t have to have it all figured out, Sukuna. We’re here. You’re not alone in this. You never were.”

His words hit me like a lifeline, but the truth is, I don’t know if I deserve it. I don’t know if I’ll ever be the person they want me to be.

But I know one thing: I can’t keep drowning in my own shit. I have to try to be better. Even if it’s just for a little while.

I’m home. But the journey to redemption? That’s just the beginning.

[anonymousreader4d7]

Hermit-a-Day May - Day 1: ImpulseSV

It's Day One of Hermit-a-Day May 2025! We're starting off with probably my current favorite Hermit too - it's ImpulseSV!!!

Before revealing my art though, I have to explain! Last year I did a series of drawings of every Hermit the way I standardly envision them, that is, as in my Realistic Minecraft AU - known fondly as the RMAU-Verse - which is basically a Minecraft but in a homebrew fantasy setting. I've made up and world-built races or lore tidbits for basically every Hermit, and you all got to see their Standard Everyday designs last year. THIS year, by popular demand (and my own original plan lol), you get to see the Trueforms of all the Hermits that have them, and alt skins of those that don't (with one exception who got a lore reworking just the other day and is getting an updated main design). But anyways, with that out of the way, without further ado: Trueform Impulse!!!

RMAU-Verse Impulse is a Telluris Demon - basically an earth/crystalline aligned Demon. You can read more about the lore behind Demons as a species by checking out their page via my pinned post! And I'm happy to answer any questions about my lore, designs, or world building as well!

I don't have much else to say for this one, so... I'm really looking forward to Hermitaday May this year after having so much fun last year! I might not get something posted on the day every day (life came up during my originally planned prep time), but I WILL post something for every day in the end!!! I have it all planned out, I'm so excited!!! Thanks for coming with me on this journey, and special thanks to @hermitadaymay's Mods Sky and Luna for running this event for us all!!!

[guiltyasdave]

end game

series masterlist • this is part VII

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

word count: ~3.8k

summary: Heartbreak, an explanation and an epilogue.

warnings/tags: explicit smut (-> 18+ only!), angst, feelings, heartbreak, depression, mention of weight loss, fluff, able-bodied reader, reader has hair, dom!Dave, sub!reader, sir kink, degradation kink, fingering, unprotected p in v (it's never stated in the fic but i headcanon that reader is on birth control), basically free use kink, rough sex, dirty talk, spanking, spit kink, praise kink, Dave is a menace, praise kink, idiots in love, please let me know if i missed anything!

a/n: the biggest thank you to @joelscurls for letting me scream about this again and againnnnn, and reading over my drafts countless times, you’re the best, jess! <3

thank you to @daddy-dins-girl for talking plot holes with me and motivating me to write <3

thank you to everyone who has read and loved this series, i have received sooooo many kind words, feedback and just so much love. i started writing this as a pwp oneshot and the fact that it has turned into my first series ever and one that i had soooo much fun with is wild. i’m incredibly emotional about saying goodbye to my babies, maybe i’ll revisit them when i need to write some kinky shit out of my system haha. i hope that you like the ending that i’ve built for them.

a few words about the plot: i actually have zero clue how the hitman business works (shocker, i know), so some parts of this are purposefully vague in a way that i hope is believable and somewhat realistic. just roll with it, thanks :D

dividers as always by @saradika-graphics 🫶🏻

find my full masterlist here & follow @guiltyasdavenotifs for fic updates.

The first week you don’t hear from Dave, you’re confused, but not necessarily worried yet. There have been weeks of silence in the past, though you’ll admit that you had thought that things might be… different now.

Your texts to him stay on delivered, never switching to read. Which has also happened before, especially when he was away on business, but still… The thought that he has gone back to his normal life without sparing as much as a glance back at your time together is nagging at you.

You can still feel his hands on your skin, can still hear him whisper in your ear how beautiful you look, how perfect you are for him. It’s hard to come to terms with the thought that it wasn’t real, that his words and actions didn’t hold the same weight for him that they did for you. Reality has finally caught up to you and it hurts.

When two weeks blend into three weeks and you’ve still heard nothing, you start getting worried. He had said his line of work was dangerous, after all.

Your conversation, still so close and yet a lifetime ago, echoes in your mind. 'Nothing's gonna happen,’ you had said. ‘Not to the girls, not to me. And not to you.’ And not to you. ‘You don’t know that, sweetheart,’ his voice rings through your head. Sweetheart. The word tastes bitter on your tongue and wraps itself around your chest until you feel like you’re choking with it, like you can’t draw breath into your lungs anymore.

Sweetheart.

You don’t know that.

Sweetheart.

You start looking him up online, to find anything that might at least tell you that he’s okay. You don’t want to believe that he would be cruel enough to ghost you, but you barely dare to consider the alternative. You find nothing, no mention of his name, like he doesn’t even exist.

Your calls stay unanswered, your messages stay unread. You find yourself subconsciously checking your texts and your emails countless times a day, catch yourself staring out of your window in the blind hope that he might appear outside. He wouldn’t just leave you like this, would he? Would he?

Days blur into weeks and eventually into months. You’re painfully aware that it’s not healthy, this kind of heartbreak, especially not over a relationship that never even meant anything. If only your heart would understand that.

It was never serious enough that you told any of your friends about it, never wanted to be labeled as the girl that sleeps with married men, never wanted to admit your feelings to someone else when you could barely admit them to yourself. Regardless, even without knowing what exactly was going on, your friends had tried to be there for you, to convince you to go out with them, to cheer you up, but you had turned them down often enough that on this Friday night, your phone stays silent.

It’s better this way. All you want to do is rot away on your couch, staring at the TV with unseeing eyes until it’s an acceptable time to go to bed. Maybe it won’t take you hours of lying in the dark to fall asleep tonight. Maybe it won’t remind you of a different kind of darkness in a different room, a room where the sound of waves against the shore and the deep breaths beside you lulled you to sleep.

You need to get yourself together, your inner voice whispers. Next week, you think. Or the one after that.

A knock on your door shakes you out of your thoughts and you pad over, expecting to be met with the Chinese takeout that you had ordered in hopes of fueling your appetite at least a bit with the prospect of comfort food. Absentmindedly, you note the surprisingly short delivery time. You barely look up as you swing the door open, busy fiddling with your purse to extract a few dollar bills.

After finally managing to pull them out, you face the doorway. A greeting dies in your throat.

Familiar deep brown eyes burn into yours, framed by the face that you wish you’d forget but can’t. The short brown hair, the clean shaven jawline that you can still feel underneath your fingertips, the memory all too fresh in your mind. He looks tired, you think, and instantly scold yourself for knowing him well enough to even notice.

The seconds tick by as you motionlessly stare at him, blinking slowly, your mind running a mile a minute. Why is he here? He can’t be here. Are you making this up? If so, things are far worse than you had thought.

He clears his throat, shifting his weight uncomfortably. It’s probably the least sure of himself that you’ve ever seen him.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his hand twitching like he almost reached out to you but changed his mind. “Can I- can I come in?”

You regard him for a moment longer. The sound of his voice makes him appear more real, and the fog in your head slowly clears. He’s alive. He’s here. In front of your door. Alive and well. Your emotions boil up inside of you.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?! You think you can just show up here after months and ask if you can come in? I thought you were… I thought…”

Your voice betrays you, breaking at the sharp sting of pain in your chest that you’ve fruitlessly tried to suppress and the feeling of your throat closing up. Tears spill over and you furiously wipe at your cheeks, determined to keep some semblance of dignity.

“I know,” Dave breathes, defeatedly. “I’m so sorry. Please let me explain.” His hand reaches towards you again. You shy away from his touch and an expression of hurt ripples across his face. “Please, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Your voice only trembles a little as you snap at him. After another look at his face, you eventually step aside and jerk your head towards your living area. You briefly think about how messy the place is, for how many weeks you didn’t have it in yourself to clean up. You can’t bring yourself to care. Seeing him walk through your flat again after being so painfully aware of his absence leaves you almost dizzy. You take the opposite ends of your couch, both of your bodies stiff, careful not to touch one another.

“Okay,” you sigh. “Explain.”

So he explains. How he received a call, barely thirty minutes after he stepped into his house, with a mission that was too perfect of an opportunity to pass it up. There had been no time to let you know, the risk too high to use his personal phone once he started working.

He goes back to the persona that took up half of his life for so long, the identity that is no more, the man that fell down a watchtower and was washed away by the sea. Body never found. At least that’s what everyone who knew this man thinks. Everyone who knew him, but not Dave York.

He’s been thorough with it, with the most important mission he’s ever done. There are no loose ends, no one who could trace things back to the real him.

It took longer than he had anticipated and he kept laying low afterwards, until he could be absolutely sure that no one would be looking for him anymore.

He doesn’t think that he’ll ever get rid of the worry, ever stop looking over his shoulder, but rationally, he knows that he did it. He got out.

Then he had talked to Carol, let her know that he wants a divorce. It had been- easy, almost. She didn’t cry, didn’t scream at him, just nodded like she had known this day would come for a long time. He thinks that she almost seemed relieved, in a way.

Your eyes had been glued to his face since he started speaking. Tears are silently running down your cheeks.

“I know that I should have found a way to contact you. I didn’t-” He sighs, running a hand over his face. “I didn’t know what to do. I was so worried that someone would find out about you. I never wanted to hurt you, you have to believe that.” He knows that he looks a mess, that his desperation to make you understand is written all over his features.

Every day that he didn’t call you, he knew that he was hurting you. He tried justifying it with himself, that having you think he left you was better than risking somebody coming after you. It never gave him much comfort.

It’s even worse, now that he sees the damage he had done. You have lost weight, deep circles have formed under your eyes and you move like you’re barely holding yourself together. He saw the panic on your face when he tried reaching for you at the door. No matter what he had done to you in the past, you always sought out the safety of his touch afterwards. Until now.

“Please believe me,” he whispers.

You study his face for what feels like a lifetime. Tears are glistening on your lashes. You look so tired, so defeated that it makes his heart ache.

“You’ve done it?” you finally ask. Your voice is a quiet thing, barely bridging the distance between the two of you. A flicker of hope rings with it. “You’re safe now?”

He nods silently, fighting the urge to gather you in his arms, to promise you that he’ll always be there from now on. A small smile curves your lips upward as you mirror his nod, like you’re trying to let this new reality sink in.

“That’s good,” you murmur.

You lean forward, your fingers tentatively closing around his fist that’s clenched tightly against his thigh.

Hope flickers inside his chest. He can taste the three words that he’s been wanting to say to you for far too long on the tip of his tongue. He’s not going to, not right now, not today. But someday soon, he thinks that he might.

Two years later

“Bye girls, say hi to your mom and Matt from me,” you smile, embracing each of them in a tight hug before they dash out of the door, a jumble of giggles and excited chatter. Dave trails behind them with a grin on his face, pecking your lips and calling out for them to slow down.

Your heart is full, overflowing with love for this family that, against all odds, has become yours. You watch Dave usher his daughters into the car and push the doors closed behind them, the smile still on your lips. As you walk back into the house, your eyes linger on the thin silver band adorning your ring finger.

It’s still new, still an unexpected sight when you catch it on the edge of your periphery. It’s the tangible proof of you being the happiest you’ve ever been.

Things had been rough at first, after Dave came back to you. You understood why he handled the situation the way he did, but it took you a long time to trust that he wouldn’t disappear again. To believe that he left his old life behind, that he chose you. But he did.

You busy yourself with cleaning up the inevitable chaos that having the girls over for Dave’s days with them always creates. It’s not the life that you would have expected yourself to have a few years ago, but right now, it feels like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

A few minutes later, your phone pings with a message from Dave.

Be back in 15. I expect you naked and on your knees waiting by the door.

You bite your lip, heat building inside you with rapid speed. Your phone pings again.

Don’t disappoint me.

Fuck. Wetness is already gathering between your legs as you jump into action.

The car door slamming shut has never sounded so good before. You’re listening intently, catching Dave’s heavy footsteps on the stairs and the jingle of his keys before the door opens beside where you’re kneeling.

You look up at him from your place on the floor, watching the mix of smugness and adoration on his face as he takes in your position. A shudder runs through you and your nipples harden under his demanding gaze. He steps closer, caressing your cheek.

“Such a good girl… my obedient little wife, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” you whimper, the coherent thoughts slowly draining from your brain and craving more of his touch, more of him.

He smiles down at you, his eyes glinting predatorily. You’ve come to know this shift into the darkness since you first met, but it’s more playful these days, not laced with the urgency that possessed him back then. Still, he gets intense, especially after having the girls over forces you to keep things rather tame during those days.

“Show me your ass, face on the ground, come on,” he demands coldly.

You obey without question, turning around and bending forward, pressing your upper body down to the floor and presenting your backside to him. He lands a couple of slaps on your cheeks and you flinch, moaning out softly. Your pussy already feels slick with arousal.

“What do you say?” he asks, rubbing his hand over the heated skin.

“Thank you, sir,” you whisper.

Another slap hits you. “Do you know what you did to deserve this?”

You wrack your brain for a few moments, but come up blank.

“I- no, sir.” Your voice is small and breathy, your body bracing for the impact of his hand again.

He chuckles. “Nothing. I just felt like it.” Another slap. “And you’re mine to do as I please, isn’t that right?” Your thighs are trembling. You’re so wet that it feels like you’re dripping onto the floor.

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

“You know what’s the most fucked up about this?” He crouches down beside your face and strokes your cheek softly, smiling down at you. “How much you whore like it.”

He straightens up and heads for the stairs. “Bedroom, come on.”

You don’t even try standing up, knowing that he won’t let you, and crawl behind him, which earns you another chuckle and a “good girl”.

The image of your naked form on your knees behind Dave who hasn’t removed a stitch of clothing sends another bolt of arousal through you. You’re desperate for him to touch you.

He roughly lifts you up and manhandles you onto the bed until you’re spread out underneath him.

“So…” He grabs your wrists and holds them over your head, pressing them into the mattress. “These stay right here, you hear me? Don’t move, or do I have to restrain you?”

You pout at the prospect of not being allowed to put your hands on him, but obediently hold them in place when he eases his grip on you. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

He grins down at you. “I know you will. Got my girl well trained, haven’t I?”

His words make your pussy clench around nothing and your “yes, sir” comes out in a whimper.

He leans in closer, spreading your thighs wider with his body and you force yourself not to buck your hips up against him. The craving for any part of him to touch you, for any kind of friction, is overwhelming.

“Please, sir,” you whisper. Your pleading eyes hold his cold gaze as he’s leaning over you.

“Patience,” he growls. “Open your mouth.” A disapproving click of his tongue. “Wider.”

You part your lips as widely as you can, sticking your tongue out and trying not to squirm against the sheets. He remains motionless for a few seconds, taking in your desperate state with a cruel smirk on his face.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you. Then he tips his head forward and spits into your waiting mouth. The filthy feeling of his saliva coating your tongue and filling your mouth almost drives you insane with want and you groan, shifting against his thick thighs between yours, but to no avail. You wait for his next command, your mouth still wide open, not daring to swallow before he tells you to.

But no command comes. Instead, he reaches up to press two fingers down on your tongue, dipping into your mouth and smearing your combined spit over your face. The silver band on his ring finger is cool against your skin and you shudder, loving the reminder that he’s really, entirely yours.

Your body feels like it’s burning up, your hands are twitching and you’re desperate to move them, to touch him, to do something, but you hold yourself still until he finally tells you to, “swallow, baby.”

He smiles and finds your lips for a surprisingly soft kiss, cupping your face in his hands. “You’re being so good,” he tells you gently. “Are you having fun?”

“Yes,” you smile, chasing his lips when he pulls back, but he tuts at you and you fall back against the bed, huffing out a breath. “Just… please.”

“Patience,” he reminds you, the softness gone as quick as it came. “Don’t make me tell you again.”

You bite your lip, but stay put while he stands up to finally start removing his clothes. He’s agonizingly slow with it, holding your hungry gaze while he unbuttons his shirt in unhurried movements that make you want to tear the clothes off his body yourself.

You drink him in, first the sight of his broad chest and his strong shoulders, then his muscular legs, and finally, making your mouth water and your pussy burn with desire, his cock.

As much as he keeps taunting you, you know him well enough by now to be able to tell that he’s just as desperate for you as you are for him, even when he’s trying to conceal it. He returns to you, sitting back on his haunches and drinking you in, until after what feels like hours, he finally reaches out and swirls his fingers through the wetness between your legs. It’s a barely there touch, but you’re so painfully turned on and sensitive that you let out a gasp.

“So fucking wet,” he marvels and applies the slightest bit of pressure to your clit. It’s enough to make you see stars and you’re sure that he could make you come just from this. But, of course he won’t. He laughs at your reaction and retracts his hand to lean forward instead until he’s on top of you again, your legs spread wide to accommodate him and his cock slides through your folds.

He lowers his head to nip and suck at the skin under your jaw, one hand toying with your breasts and your hardened nipples. Your whole body is buzzing, he’s so close and it’s so much, but it’s not enough, not enough, not enough.

“What do you want, baby?” he asks, peppering your skin with kisses and rocking his hips in small movements that make his cock nudge at your clit over and over.

“F-fuck me, please, I’ll do anything,” you beg, your body still obediently stretched out underneath him with your arms above your head. He nods wordlessly and reaches down to position himself at your soaking entrance.

“Be as loud as you want,” he growls against your neck. “I missed making you scream.”

He bites at your skin at the same time as his thrust into you punches the air from your lungs. You scream, just like he asked, as he hammers into you, his lips still attached to your neck, sucking and biting at the delicate skin. The sensation of finally being filled by him, of feeling the stinging stretch of the way he forcefully pounds into you is like heaven. You think that you’re talking, crying out a mix of his name and sir and please over and over.

You’re flying towards your climax and judging from his groans, he can already feel you tighten around him.

“Go ahead,” he groans, before you’ve even strung the words to ask for permission together in your mind. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

He pinches your nipple just once and the additional sensation is enough to send you flying, your pussy clenching around his cock and drenching him in your arousal as you scream out his name. It’s pure bliss, and you never want to come down.

“That’s it,” he growls, not slowing his movements, fucking you through the aftershocks until you’re a whining mess beneath him, “that’s my perfect girl, fuck-”

You force your eyes open to smile up at him, taking in the wrecked expression on his face, relishing in the knowledge that you’re the one to make him look like this. You just really wish you could touch him.

“P-please, can I-” you’re breathless, barely able to speak, and jerk your head towards your hands above you.

“Yeah,” he rasps, his thrusts somehow growing even more forceful, “do whatever you want, baby.”

Your hands fly towards his body, touching every inch of his skin that you can reach, nails digging into his back and fingers grasping at his hair, pulling him closer, closer, until he’s everywhere, all you can see, all you can taste, all you can feel.

“Fuck!” he swears, grabbing your shoulders and holding you in place as he’s pounding into you, “give me another one, touch yourself, come on-”

His thrusts are becoming erratic and you know that he’s close to his own climax. It only takes a few swipes of your fingers over your clit until you’re coming again, soaring through the heights of your pleasure, your whole body trembling with your release. Dave’s hips stutter and he comes with a shout, pulsing inside of your fluttering pussy until finally, you both still.

He drops his sweat-slicked forehead against your chest, peppering your skin with kisses and engulfing you in the warmth of his arms. After cleaning you up, he moves your bodies until you’re tucked against his side, one arm thrown across his chest while he holds you close.

You’ll never get tired of the feeling of his naked body against yours, of the way he feels like he was made for you. By now, you can admit that he had always felt like this.

“I love you,” he says, lips moving against your hair.

You press your face deeper into his neck. “I love you.”

It’s easy, now. Words that you say every day.

…and i love YOU, thank you for reading! 🤍 if you liked this, a reblog or a comment would absolutely make my day.

[dolconfessionsss]

Devil here again! Thanks a lot for your answers! Yeah, I'm basically on the opposite side of escapism where I try to torture myself with every media I engage with. It's a rather unique way of engaging with media and it worries some. But It's what I enjoy. I try to learn and compare and engage with most media like I would philosophy. There is a **LOT** to do about the game. Lots of big things need updates, reworks, etc, one of which is the combat system that's being worked on too. The Baileys daddy-issues thing taken out of context is far worse than what it actually is. Inside the server basically all the Bailey fans are well aware that fatherly issues are a large draw towards characters like Bailey, Eden and even Avery. A friends server I'm in even uses custom stickers for "Daddy Issues Club". The Abortion thing, yeah, it's hard to properly explain things to many different people many different times and attrition just wears down peoples energy and drive, so sometimes things just start getting brushed off and hit with a "No because we said so." The Evilness and Rudeness has toned down a lot, some still remains but that is in general part of the culture, I've become well aware I can't be that way to everyone and to better read the room. The thing about peoples social media I've stopped doing. Yeah it's public but still, I'm an admin, this is a big server, it's just rude. Instead we've started DMing people we see with a lot of linked accounts or if we see private info on them to alert them in private that they might be in danger of people seeing things they don't want seen. Puris aesthetic is very much yellow and angel based, but yeah, no self-inserts in DOL. We are very much against that given the themes of the game. Sydneys whole thing is that their fate is decided by others. They are rather spineless and the Temple has dictated their entire life up until they met the Player/PC. At that point now Sydneys life is in the players hands. But no matter what we as the players do Sydney is doomed to a life of danger and pain. When it comes to contributions they are reviewed and approved by Contribution Managers which are trusted and experienced individuals. These CMs talk to people, teach them, give them notes on how to edit scenes. Once these scenes are completed and reviewed they are put into the pipeline to be coded into the game by our Coders. They send Merge Requests to the Git, where these merge requests are usually checked once more and then approved by Puri or Vrel and such. Before all this it was far easier for people to sneak things in. Edens OOC soft content, Trans-Coded Robin content, basically **ALL** of Morgan and his...incestious rat-eating.

Ooh, a rework on the combat system? 👀✨ Now that's something I would genuinely look forward to, since I built a story of my PC being a kind of fighter who plays filthy dirty hehehe >:)

Once again I have to ask: no Mommy Issues Club? 🥺 In all seriousness, it does tells about the fandom - or at least the server specifically - that there's more emphasis on problematic fatherly figure than motherly ones :0c

Oh yes, exactly one-on-one with how I view Sydney's whole character <3 They have absolutely no control over their own life, they are just switching control from the Temple to PC. What an absolutely self-destructing cutie, I love them so much 💖✨

The contribution system sounds really interesting! How are the Contribution Managers chosen? Were they handpicked personally, or were there application out for anyone to apply for it? And now I have to ask: from the sound of it, Morgan's everything is a mess. How did their character got so 'bad' to this point? I feel like Eden's Soft OOC-Ness and Robin's Trans-Codedness (appearently? Never notice that huh) doesn't seem as bad as Morgan?

Also wait, Trans-Coded Robin moments? I am probably just blind but I'd love if anyone can point out what these moments are because I do not notice any of them 👁👄👁

[piosplayhouse]

I don't know if you'll answer but I need to know the lore behind sexy times with Wangxian, like is it a fanfic? why do people hate the author??

It was the longest mdzs fic posted during its time in 2021 and gained extreme notoriety for its absurdly long tag list, frequent update schedule that consistently forced anyone scrolling any of its tags to see it at the top of their page, and escalating poor, racist, and trolling authorial behavior that ultimately culminated in the author virtual1979 being suspended from ao3 for a month because she posting an author's note saying she hoped that all her haters would contract covid and die. She deleted the fic from ao3 a little while after this happened, ig bc she wasn't getting enough attention anymore, but allegedly the thing's still up on dreamwidth under strict friendslock. The fan lore article goes pretty in depth about it:

The best summary for why it pissed people off so much is really just showing you these screenshots of what the fic looked like towards the end of its life on desktop and mobile (be warned opening the full image):

From my personal experience:

from 2019 up until around 2021 the fic really was just a normal-ish, if very strangely written and kinky, wangxian porn fic about them basically just fucking around post canon and enjoying day to day life. It updated pretty frequently and had a fair amount of tags because the author was literally just tagging anything that she wrote. But like the first few hundred, maybe even a thousand tags were pretty accurate to what the fic was because of that, and were relatively manageable for the first few years that it didn't pick up any attention really.

At some point in 2021 when cql was really starting to blow up online and the tag count was starting to pile up to the point of annoyance, the fic started receiving some comments that were just like "hey can you try to cut down on tags, I don't think it's necessary to be so specific as to tag 'Korean food' or 'eggs' or whatnot". The author did not share this idea, evidently, and instead built a grudge against commenters who would tell her to delete tags, subsequently adding more and more as time went on.

As the tag count and updates increased, the content of the fic did too-- it got a lot, lot weirder. I'm sure someone's saved it all somewhere but for reference it spun out into what I can only describe as like if Rick and Morty's plot was cut to be just the parts of the show with underage/incest plotlines with All Tomorrows level sex dystopian world building exclusively to elicit the most visceral audience reaction possible. Around this time is when more people started to notice the fic and its escalating tag issues, leading them to leaving more comments complaining about it, leading to the attention seeking author spitefully adding more tags. Around this time is when she also started adding fake tags that didn't apply to the story whatsoever (sorry to disappoint, "talking vagina" was one of those. I did check) just to boost the count, take up more space on people's screens, and bait people into commenting hate for attention.

By this time, it had become a fandom-wide annoyance as she had begun to tag entirely unrelated ships, therefore putting the near-daily updating titanic of a fic at the top of any mdzs-related tag. People were outraged about this, and calls came for ao3 to step in. Ao3 waffled around for a bit as there was no official rule at the time that imposed a tag limit, so there wasn't established ground to ban virtual1979 (who btw many people suspected of being 40 whole years old due to the username and allegedly some other internet sleuthing on Facebook or something). Meanwhile, she began to tag other fandoms-- tgcf, svsss, BTS, basically anything that would get a lot of attention and draw hate with the advent of The Monstrosity suddenly drowning out all other recently updated fics of the targeted fandoms.

People had been trying to retaliate without ao3 action, though, by coding their own themes/skins that would allow someone to block a user or work and other fic writers made their own parody, the "bland times with wangxian" collection, which were minimally tagged sfw shortfics typically featuring wangxian just doing laundry or things like that. A good amount of them were actually like just fics where wwx would explain to lwj how to install custom ao3 themes and block fics that were taking up too much space on his screen. Imo it was pretty funny, but these also sparked some controversy as people disagreed with fighting annoyance with more annoyance to people trying to find content.

Either shortly before or after ao3 staff said they'd step in due to an insane amount of reports and backlash, I forgot which atp, virtual1979 began perhaps the worst tagging spree of the fic's life by changing the title, many of the tags, and the summary to a slew of racial slurs, sexually explicit imagery, and other generally offensive statements. I'm pretty sure this came after the fic was temporarily hidden once, as this update gained considerably less attention than the rest of the tagging saga, but people were still rightfully pissed about it. Ultimately, like I mentioned before, the author was then suspended for a month for wishing covid and death on her haters, and attention seemed to die down during this time to the point where she didn't really fight much more when her suspension ended and deleted her account and the work shortly after. Again she seems to have moved to dreamwidth, but most have forgotten her and I'm not sure if her presence is public at all on there. But that's the story of the worst mdzs fic ever written

[circus-clangen]

Hi!! Fellow clan gen comic creator here, i check your blog regularly and you are so fast with updates! And nothing looks rushed or messy (well, messy in a bad way, i know your style is sketchy and sort of glitchy which is why i like it) how do you keep everything so updated all the time?? I struggle makeing one comic in just a week.

ArE yOu A wIzZaRd???

HAHA so FULL disclosure for everyone reading this: My upload schedule is about to change because I'm moving in a week and am going to be searching for a job 😭

BUT to answer your question: I have ALWAYS drawn fast. From when I started art some 8 years ago, I had no trouble whipping out 4-5 drawings every day, sometimes more. DOESN'T MEAN THEY WERE GOOD but I just hit the ground running when it came to art. AND because of that, I've built up more line confidence, and have been able to teach myself to draw cleaner even as I draw faster. In 2021 I even made 1+ finished drawings every single day 😭 (here's that if you wanna see it). Also last February I drew one OC 69 times in like 20 days.... TLDR: I've always been this way, and so I've just kind of adapted to it. PLUS it helps that cats are faster to draw than people (in my mind; people are my primary subject matter) Here are some tips, if you Do wanna draw a little faster: 1. Nail down an art style, in general, and for each individual character. It's WAY easier to draw quickly if you already known how each part of the drawing is going to look (i.e. You draw eyes This way and you draw bangs This way and you shade skin This way and you use These colors)(I personally have one color pallet I use in every drawing)

2. If you can't clearly picture a drawing in your head going into it, let it marinate for a little longer, and come into focus. If you know down to the linework how you want your piece to look, you don't have to hesitate as much going into it.

3. FORGO the sketch, even if its just for practice! Try to draw your character starting with the lineart, thats what I do for my asks especially

4. Take breaks! Don't always force yourself to make art. Some of my best improvement happens after I've quit art cold turkey for weeks or months at a time. You draw faster when you're inspired and have a fresh, clear picture in your head Hope this helps!

[andmaybegayer]

What are some of the coolest computer chips ever, in your opinion?

Hmm. There are a lot of chips, and a lot of different things you could call a Computer Chip. Here's a few that come to mind as "interesting" or "important", or, if I can figure out what that means, "cool".

If your favourite chip is not on here honestly it probably deserves to be and I either forgot or I classified it more under "general IC's" instead of "computer chips" (e.g. 555, LM, 4000, 7000 series chips, those last three each capable of filling a book on their own). The 6502 is not here because I do not know much about the 6502, I was neither an Apple nor a BBC Micro type of kid. I am also not 70 years old so as much as I love the DEC Alphas, I have never so much as breathed on one.

Disclaimer for writing this mostly out of my head and/or ass at one in the morning, do not use any of this as a source in an argument without checking.

Intel 3101

So I mean, obvious shout, the Intel 3101, a 64-bit chip from 1969, and Intel's first ever product. You may look at that, and go, "wow, 64-bit computing in 1969? That's really early" and I will laugh heartily and say no, that's not 64-bit computing, that is 64 bits of SRAM memory.

This one is cool because it's cute. Look at that. This thing was completely hand-designed by engineers drawing the shapes of transistor gates on sheets of overhead transparency and exposing pieces of crudely spun silicon to light in a """"cleanroom"""" that would cause most modern fab equipment to swoon like a delicate Victorian lady. Semiconductor manufacturing was maturing at this point but a fab still had more in common with a darkroom for film development than with the mega expensive building sized machines we use today.

As that link above notes, these things were really rough and tumble, and designs were being updated on the scale of weeks as Intel learned, well, how to make chips at an industrial scale. They weren't the first company to do this, in the 60's you could run a chip fab out of a sufficiently well sealed garage, but they were busy building the background that would lead to the next sixty years.

Lisp Chips

This is a family of utterly bullshit prototype processors that failed to be born in the whirlwind days of AI research in the 70's and 80's.

Lisps, a very old but exceedingly clever family of functional programming languages, were the language of choice for AI research at the time. Lisp compilers and interpreters had all sorts of tricks for compiling Lisp down to instructions, and also the hardware was frequently being built by the AI researchers themselves with explicit aims to run Lisp better.

The illogical conclusion of this was attempts to implement Lisp right in silicon, no translation layer.

Yeah, that is Sussman himself on this paper.

These never left labs, there have since been dozens of abortive attempts to make Lisp Chips happen because the idea is so extremely attractive to a certain kind of programmer, the most recent big one being a pile of weird designd aimed to run OpenGenera. I bet you there are no less than four members of r/lisp who have bought an Icestick FPGA in the past year with the explicit goal of writing their own Lisp Chip. It will fail, because this is a terrible idea, but damn if it isn't cool.

There were many more chips that bridged this gap, stuff designed by or for Symbolics (like the Ivory series of chips or the 3600) to go into their Lisp machines that exploited the up and coming fields of microcode optimization to improve Lisp performance, but sadly there are no known working true Lisp Chips in the wild.

Zilog Z80

Perhaps the most important chip that ever just kinda hung out. The Z80 was almost, almost the basis of The Future. The Z80 is bizzare. It is a software compatible clone of the Intel 8080, which is to say that it has the same instructions implemented in a completely different way.

This is, a strange choice, but it was the right one somehow because through the 80's and 90's practically every single piece of technology made in Japan contained at least one, maybe two Z80's even if there was no readily apparent reason why it should have one (or two). I will defer to Cathode Ray Dude here: What follows is a joke, but only barely

The Z80 is the basis of the MSX, the IBM PC of Japan, which was produced through a system of hardware and software licensing to third party manufacturers by Microsoft of Japan which was exactly as confusing as it sounds. The result is that the Z80, originally intended for embedded applications, ended up forming the basis of an entire alternate branch of the PC family tree.

It is important to note that the Z80 is boring. It is a normal-ass chip but it just so happens that it ended up being the focal point of like a dozen different industries all looking for a cheap, easy to program chip they could shove into Appliances.

Effectively everything that happened to the Intel 8080 happened to the Z80 and then some. Black market clones, reverse engineered Soviet compatibles, licensed second party manufacturers, hundreds of semi-compatible bastard half-sisters made by anyone with a fab, used in everything from toys to industrial machinery, still persisting to this day as an embedded processor that is probably powering something near you quietly and without much fuss. If you have one of those old TI-86 calculators, that's a Z80. Oh also a horrible hybrid Z80/8080 from Sharp powered the original Game Boy.

I was going to try and find a picture of a Z80 by just searching for it and look at this mess! There's so many of these things.

I mean the C/PM computers. The ZX Spectrum, I almost forgot that one! I can keep making this list go! So many bits of the Tech Explosion of the 80's and 90's are powered by the Z80. I was not joking when I said that you sometimes found more than one Z80 in a single computer because you might use one Z80 to run the computer and another Z80 to run a specialty peripheral like a video toaster or music synthesizer. Everyone imaginable has had their hand on the Z80 ball at some point in time or another. Z80 based devices probably launched several dozen hardware companies that persist to this day and I have no idea which ones because there were so goddamn many.

The Z80 eventually got super efficient due to process shrinks so it turns up in weird laptops and handhelds! Zilog and the Z80 persist to this day like some kind of crocodile beast, you can go to RS components and buy a brand new piece of Z80 silicon clocked at 20MHz. There's probably a couple in a car somewhere near you.

Pentium (P6 microarchitecture)

Yeah I am going to bring up the Hackers chip. The Pentium P6 series is currently remembered for being the chip that Acidburn geeks out over in Hackers (1995) instead of making out with her boyfriend, but it is actually noteworthy IMO for being one of the first mainstream chips to start pulling serious tricks on the system running it.

The P6 microarchitecture comes out swinging with like four or five tricks to get around the numerous problems with x86 and deploys them all at once. It has superscalar pipelining, it has a RISC microcode, it has branch prediction, it has a bunch of zany mathematical optimizations, none of these are new per se but this is the first time you're really seeing them all at once on a chip that was going into PC's.

Without these improvements it's possible Intel would have been beaten out by one of its competitors, maybe Power or SPARC or whatever you call the thing that runs on the Motorola 68k. Hell even MIPS could have beaten the ageing cancerous mistake that was x86. But by discovering the power of lying to the computer, Intel managed to speed up x86 by implementing it in a sensible instruction set in the background, allowing them to do all the same clever pipelining and optimization that was happening with RISC without having to give up their stranglehold on the desktop market. Without the P5 we live in a very, very different world from a computer hardware perspective.

From this falls many of the bizzare microcode execution bugs that plague modern computers, because when you're doing your optimization on the fly in chip with a second, smaller unix hidden inside your processor eventually you're not going to be cryptographically secure.

RISC is very clearly better for, most things. You can find papers stating this as far back as the 70's, when they start doing pipelining for the first time and are like "you know pipelining is a lot easier if you have a few small instructions instead of ten thousand massive ones.

x86 only persists to this day because Intel cemented their lead and they happened to use x86. True RISC cuts out the middleman of hyperoptimizing microcode on the chip, but if you can't do that because you've girlbossed too close to the sun as Intel had in the late 80's you have to do something.

The Future

This gets us to like the year 2000. I have more chips I find interesting or cool, although from here it's mostly microcontrollers in part because from here it gets pretty monotonous because Intel basically wins for a while. I might pick that up later. Also if this post gets any longer it'll be annoying to scroll past. Here is a sample from a post I have in my drafts since May:

I have some notes on the weirdo PowerPC stuff that shows up here it's mostly interesting because of where it goes, not what it is. A lot of it ends up in games consoles. Some of it goes into mainframes. There is some of it in space. Really got around, PowerPC did.

[l0vstars]

✦”WIPEOUT!”— Billy Hargrove x Byers! OC✦ Noise

(Halloween Costume at the Bottom)

Halloween. The day when the dead and unknown come alive again for one single night. The day when all the scary monsters you claimed were in your closet growing up are real—and out crawling into the night. In Hawkins, this couldn't be more true. Especially for a certain family that was surrounded by this narrative. "Will?" Joyce—a loving, but constantly cornered mom—called for her son. "Come on, honey, up and at 'em," she said, walking to his room and opening the door. He wasn't there. "Jonathan? Jennie? Where's Will?" she asked her other kids. "He's not in his room?" Jonathan asked. "Maybe he's in the bathroom, Mom. Have you checked?" Jennie added, trying to reassure her. Joyce rushed to the bathroom, that same sinking feeling returning. The fear of losing her son again was all too familiar. She burst through the bathroom door—only to see Will finishing up. "What are you doing?" she asked him. "Peeing?" he replied, genuinely confused. "Oh. Sorry. Okay," she sighed, shutting the door with a heavy breath of relief. "You look so cute," Jennie smiled, watching her brother in awe as he stood in his Ghostbusters costume just outside his bedroom door. She approached to ruffle his hair. Will pushed her hand away. "It's not supposed to be cute! We're supposed to be cool. Me, Mike, Dustin, and Lucas—we're all going as the four Ghostbusters," he declared. "Did you know Egon perfected the P.K.E. meter and also created the proton packs and ghost traps that the Ghostbusters depended on for their work? He single-handedly came up with and built the Ecto Containment Unit—" "I'm gonna stop you right there," Jennie said with a laugh. "I love you to death, but I have no clue what you just said." She giggled at his little nerd rant. "Now I'm gonna get ready before Johnny kills me for making us late again," she added, walking off. Unbeknownst to her, if she'd stayed just a bit longer, she might've caught a glimpse of the truth—what really happened to her little brother last night. Later, Joyce found a few drawings Will had done—spidery, otherworldly monsters sketched in black ink. She questioned him, concerned, but he brushed it off, saying it was just a sketch for a story.

Many pictures later, the twins and the youngest Byers sibling finally made it to school. "Bye, Will. Have a good day!" Jennie called. "Have fun, bud," Jonathan chimed in as Will ran off to join the other three Ghostbusters. Just as Jennie and Jonathan were about to get out of the car, Jennie spoke up. "Wait, Johnny—just a sec. I need to talk to you about something." Jonathan looked at her, concerned. "Yeah? What's up?" "It's just... have you heard any updates about Will's therapy?" "What are you getting at, Jen?" her twin asked, confused. "I mean, something happened last night. I found him outside—he said he was looking for the dog, but I don't know. He just seemed... in a daze? I'm just worried this is doing more harm than good." "Jennie, I think you're just way over your head about this. Will's been doing good. Don't worry." He tried to stay calm, trying not to blow the cover. "I mean, I guess, but Jonny—I'm really worried. What if something else happened to him last—" "I'm gonna stop you right there, Jen. We finally got normal back. We got Will back. Why are you trying so hard to make this seem like a big deal?" "A big deal? I'm not! Obviously I'm just trying to help—" "Help with what, Jen? There's nothing to help with. Stop trying to make issues that don't exist," he said, upset that she wouldn't let it go. "Issues that don't exist? Oh, like that conversation you had with Will last night? What, you think I can't handle anything?" "You were seriously eavesdropping on me and Will?" "I'm SO sorry, God forbid a girl hears her own name being said in her own house! You know what? I don't know what's going on—and you obviously don't care enough to tell me. So don't even bother talking to me." She slammed the passenger door and stormed off into school just as the bell rang.

"Alright class, we're going to continue our lesson from last time—oh! Ms. Byers, how great of you to join us today," Ms. Jackson said condescendingly, clearly noting Jennie's tardiness. Rolling her eyes, Jennie took her seat next to a familiar blue-eyed boy, not saying a word—but her annoyance was obvious. "Who fucked up your breakfast this morning?" Great, another man to piss me off today, she thought. She took a deep breath, not wanting to take her irritation out on someone else. "It's just my brother being stupid. It's none of your business." "Well damn, you don't gotta be mad at me. Besides, I know a couple ways I can cool you off," Billy teased, clearly enjoying himself. She ignored him, trying to focus on whatever nonsense the teacher was saying, but a few moments later Billy poked again. "So... I'm assuming you're going to the party tonight, right?" Oh shoot, that's tonight... "Uh, I don't know. I'll see," she replied. She'd been planning to convince Jonathan to come with her, but since they weren't exactly on "party-speaking" terms, she hesitated. "Come on. You can't be uptight your whole life, you know?" "Who ever said I was uptight?" she laughed. "You've only known me for what? A day? Please. If you saw all my family, you'd think I'm the coolest one." "Yeah? You got siblings?" "Yeah, a twin brother and a little one, too. You?" "If I can call that monster of a girl a sister, yeah. I guess... step sister." "You're so lucky, you know that? I've always wanted a little sister. But hey, can't complain too much." "Please—I'd let you have her. Run back to California while you're at it." Jennie chuckled at the obvious disdain he had for his step-sibling. "But you should go. I mean, you'll definitely want to see more of me, wouldn't you?" "Please. I have to deal with your ass till this school year's over. I think that's enough for one lifetime." They both laughed, and the bell rang to end class. "Come on, Byers. What do you say? See you there tonight?" Billy asked as they walked out. "We'll see. I guess you'll just have to search for me," she said playfully, walking away to her next class. Billy's new "friends"—if you could even call them that—came up to him. They seemed more afraid of him than anything. "Dude, do you even know who that chick is?" one said. "She's got that weird-ass twin brother—and her younger brother's like a real-life zombie. I'd stay away if I were you," they warned. "Nah, don't worry. I'm not looking for anything but fun with her," Billy replied, staring a little too long at Jennie as she walked away.

Fuck. I totally spaced on the party tonight. I don't even have a costume. I definitely can't show up in something lame—not after that conversation. Debating what to do on limited time, Jennie stared at the blue school doors, students buzzing around her. I mean... it's only one day if I ditch... Plus! It's Halloween. Special occasion? Fuck it. She pushed through the blue doors and left. Walking felt like forever, but she finally made it to the local costume store, praying she wouldn't have to settle for a bedsheet ghost. She scrounged around the racks and suddenly spotted something on the bottom shelf that caught her eye. A white button-up shirt, plaid gray skirt, and black belt. Wait... this looks familiar... Holy shit. This is that one girl from Kill Bill. Gogo Yubari. And—it's my size? Oh god, you are so on my side today. She looked up and crossed her hands together in thanks. Then she saw the price tag. 40 bucks?! The movie wasn't even that expensive. She only had 20 bucks—emergency cash. The internal debate kicked in. But the pressure to look good tonight won. Dammit, please don't let it be Hopper if I get caught, she thought, and made a run for it. Siren blaring. Shopkeeper yelling behind her. She kept running, not knowing that Hopper was currently at her house... asking her mom about Will's creepy "comic" drawings.

Later that day, Billy reluctantly driving Max home pulled up to her house. "You're not getting out?" Max asked. "It's none of your business. I'll be out. Lock the doors. And one word to your mom about this, and it's over, Max." She rolled her eyes and walked in. Tonight, Billy was going to show Hawkins who he really was. But first—he needed to stop at the store. He couldn't complete his look without it. Standing outside his car, lighting a cigarette, he thought about what he had to do tonight—until a blur of brown hair dashed past him and a store alarm blared behind it. What the hell? Was that Byers?? And my day just keeps getting better. He smirked, flicked the cigarette, and jumped in his car to follow.

Jennie, barely avoiding jail time, walked slower now, relieved that she scored the costume she wanted. That is, until a car slowly rolled up beside her. You've got to be kidding me. HIM? Out of everyone right now... Billy rolled down his window. "Surprised to see me, Byers?" "Hardly. You're like a cockroach. Hard to get rid of." "You know, I only heard two words in that sentence—and if I didn't know better, I'd say you were flirting with me." She rolled her eyes. "What do you want, Billy?" "Well... if I didn't know any better, putting you running and the store alarm together—I'd say you just got yourself into some shit." "It's none of your business." "Yeah? Well, why don't we make it the sheriff's business? I'm sure they'd love to hit one more end-of-the-year quota." She stopped. Eyes locking with his. "You wouldn't." "Oh, I would. Orrr... you could just get in the car and let me take you home," he said with a grin, knowing she didn't have many choices. She sighed, then walked to the passenger side of the car. "Atta girl. So—where to?"

Silent goes by, passing the two teenagers while Billy is driving Jennifer home. Wanting to clear up the silence, Billy speaks up. "So, are you going to tell me what's in that bag or are you going to pout like a kid that just got caught?" "Why do you care? I thought you were warned about me and my family, and you just want to have 'fun' with me," she tells him, staring out the window, hand on her face, keeping her head up. Billy, now realizing she heard his conversation with his friends, has a look of shock. "Yeah, I heard. Your friend has a loud ass mouth, you know." "Yeah, well I'm helping you out, aren't I? Don't you think that counts for something?" he tells her. "Not really. One day into this town and people are still spreading weird ass rumors to you." "Yeah? So what's up with that?" he asks her. "What's up with what?" she looks at him, upset but knowing what he's talking about. "So are they true?" She looks at him, not knowing how to feel—if he's trying to make fun of her or actually wants to listen. "My little brother went through something traumatic last year, and instead of having sympathy for us—thinking that he died—people still continue to make us feel bad about ourselves," she tells him, continuing. "It's up to you. If you want to listen to them without knowing the full story, that will tell me what kind of person you are." She finishes her rant, looking back out the window. Silence fills the car again. "I've never been the type to let people tell me what to think," he tells her. She looks back at him, surprised he didn't say more comments about her family like everyone else, and decides maybe—just maybe—he isn't that much of an ass. As they approach her house, she tells him to drop her off here. "So what type of person are you going to be tonight?" "You'll just have to wait and see," she says back to him. "But thank you, for the ride back there." "Yeah, anytime you need a ride just let me know—it can be my car or something else we can arrange," he says, giving her a smile. Shaking her head "hm" but with a small smile, she closes the door and walks into her house.

Later that night... "So you hit 'T' to zoom in, and 'W' zooms back out. See? Easy peasy," Bob tells Jonathan, teaching him the ropes of the video recorder. "Listen, stay close to your brother, okay?" Joyce tells her youngest, reassuring him that if he feels something's wrong, it's okay to come home. While everyone was busy, Jen walks out in her costume for the night with her hair straightened and a bit of makeup on. "What do you guys think?" she says, giving her family a twirl of her costume. "Woahh, Kill Bill?" Bob says excitedly, knowing the reference of her costume. "You know it," she says to him, happy he knew what she was dressed as. Jonathan, surprised that she's dressed up, realizes where she's going tonight. "Jen, you're not going to the party." "Woah, who made you the king of what I do?" she retaliates, still tense from the morning. "I thought it was set you were going to drop her off there, Jonathan? Or that's what she told me?" She looks at her twin, knowing something was off. Conflicted, Jonathan always has his twin's back in public—even though the minute they walk out the door, he's ready to argue with her again about her decision. "No, you're right, Mom. It slipped my mind. I am going to take her." "Good. Now you two be safe. Jen, don't do anything you know I wouldn't want you to do," she tells her daughter warningly. "Yes, yes, Mom. I know. Love you so much, okay, bye!" she says, giving her mom a kiss on the cheek hurriedly before she can change her mind, rushing to the car. "Bye, Bob!" "Bye, Jen," he says back. Jonathan sighs at his sister, knowing they're about to argue. "Are you ready, bud?" he tells his favorite sibling at the moment, ready to take his brother trick-or-treating.

"You can't just tell Mom I'm going to take you to this party, Jen. I don't even want you going—especially not in that," Jonathan tells his other half, upset. "Alright, well if you don't take me, I'll get out of this car right now and find someone else to take me then," she tells him. Jonathan, knowing how stubborn his sister can be, has an internal dilemma. Will, in the back seat, watches his favorite people argue while he sits there quietly. Jonathan thinks back to a conversation he had with Will earlier—how Will said he's embarrassed Jonathan has to take him and it's not like any of his friends need babysitters. Thinking about what to do next, he looks at his sister, then at his younger brother through the rearview mirror. He sighs and tells Will, "If I let you go on your own, you promise to stay in the neighborhood?" Will excitedly perks up from the back seat. "Yeah! Yeah, yeah, totally." "And be back at Mike's by 9:00." "9:30?" the younger one tries to wager. "9:00," the other one says, deadset on the time. They agree, and Will goes off happily with his friends. Jennie, watching him leave, then turns to Jonathan. "So I guess you are coming to the party." Jonathan sighs, turning the key in the ignition and driving to their next destination.

Music blasting. Teenagers drinking their brains out, throwing up on lawns, making out in the corners. This was the epitome of a teenager party—a scene Jonathan was dreading to enter as he stared at the house blaring rock music. "You coming in or what?" Jennifer asks him, still upset about their fight. "I'll be there in a sec," he tells her, mentally preparing himself. Rolling her eyes at him, she walks away and enters the party. The smell of booze immediately hits her nostrils as she walks in, and she spots Nancy with a red solo cup, downing whatever was in that punch.

"Woahhh, Nance! Trying to have fun?" she says to her jokingly, and they both laugh, complimenting each other's costumes. Steve comes up, telling Nancy to slow down. Nancy, not in the mood, brushes him off. He then looks at Jennifer. "You know your little boyfriend's been harassing me all night." "What the hell?? Boyfriend??" Jennifer looks at Steve like he's crazy and wonders where he got that idea. "STEVE!" Nancy says in a small (but loud) whisper, nudging his side, obviously telling him he wasn't supposed to say anything. Oh. That's where he got it from. She looks at both of them. Nancy, annoyed at Steve, walks away from him while he chases her down.

"Kill Bill, huh? If I didn't know any better, I'd think that was a threat to me," Jennifer hears a voice tell her from behind. Turning around, she sees it belongs to none other than the shirtless man in front of her. Holy shit, he's hot, she thinks to herself, seeing his costume with his chest exposed. "Like what you see? I'm guessing you do—you're staring pretty hard." Like a deer in headlights, caught in the act, she looks up at him, immediately changing her expression. "You wish, Hargrove," turning away from him a bit embarrassed, chugging her drink. Billy, grabbing a cup himself, says, "Cheers to a great night?" "Yeah, cheers," they say, toasting their cups and drinking the booze while staring at each other. This is going to be a fun night, she thinks.

"CHUG CHUG CHUG CHUG!" the crowd yells while Jennifer takes down her fifth cup of alcohol—Billy dared her after he did five like it was nothing. Finishing it, the crowd screams in cheers for her while Billy just smiles and puts an arm around her shoulder, bringing her closer to him. In a drunk daze, not pushing him away, she just smiles back at him.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, her twin is chatting with Samantha when he sees Steve leave in a hurry, clearly upset. Going to check on Nancy, he sees her also upset but very drunk. "Come on, Nance, let's go home." Not fighting it, she lets Jonathan take her from the bathroom and walk out. He guides her through the crowd of people, looking for his twin—seeing her with none other than the main star of the party. Walking over, ready to go home, he approaches Jennifer. "What the hell are you doing, Jen? We gotta go home now," grabbing her arm, trying to pull her away. "We just got here, Jonathan! Live a little!" she says, not fully understanding why they have to leave. "I'm not asking you, Jen." "Woah, dude, if she doesn't want to go, she doesn't have to go," Billy tells the unfamiliar boy trying to take Jen. "Back off. This doesn't concern you," Jonathan tells Billy, not threatened by him. "Oh yeah? And who says it doesn't?" Billy says, stepping in front of Jen and getting in Jonathan's face. Seeing Nancy stumble a bit and looking at her in concern, then at his sister urgently, Jen steps forward. "Look, I'll get a ride from one of my friends. Go home, Jonathan," she tells her brother, not wanting the night to end already. Conflicted, he looks at his sister, then back at Nancy, and sighs, annoyed. "Fine. Get home safe," he tells her and walks out with Nancy.

"Who was that douchebag?" Billy asks her, somewhat protectively but also curious. "That douchebag you're referring to is my twin brother. And call him that one more time and watch, Billy." Putting his hands up in defense, "Aye, I just saved you from going home bored." "Yeah, and you also cost me a ride. So you're driving me back home," she tells him boldly and takes another chug of her drink, ready to party again. Billy, shaking his head and laughing at how bold she's gotten throughout the night, follows her back into the crowd.

Halloween Costume for reference

[genericpuff]

welp, this kinda sucks

I'm currently at odds with the PC that I got a couple months ago, it's started freezing and soft-resetting randomly for seemingly no reason. It would usually be after hours of use that I could chalk up to the memory overloading, but now it's happening as soon as I boot up the frigging thing. And just to make it clear how much I've done on my own to diagnose the problem, our attempts to fix it have included the following:

Limiting startup applications

Running virus / malware scans

Swapping out display monitors

Updating the GPU drivers

Setting a lower overclock profile in the BIOS settings

Swapping out power cables and outlets to check for power surges

So far none of these things have worked and if anything, the issue has just gotten worse in the last two days. Like, it can barely make it to the startup screen sometimes, despite the memory and CPU usage being >20%, there is zero reason it would be the PC overclocking itself just from startup.

(and no, it doesn't even compel me, i'm just annoyed to shit LOL)

So I dropped it off with the guy who built it (he runs an electronics / pawn shop downtown that's very reputable and well-known so it's not like I don't trust him or anything, he's been building PC's for people in the area for years) and it's now in his care for the next day or two while he tries to isolate the problem. Right now the only thing I can imagine being the problem is the power supply or my display monitor, which is my old Huion Kamvas 22 Plus that still works as a monitor, just not a drawing tablet - but if something's still fucking around in the tablet, it could be causing problems through the PC, maybe.

When I dropped it off with the guy, he went and set it up in his office and came out and told me that so far it seemed to be running just fine, when he asked me if I was doing anything specific I told him it was crashing even after startup so I gave him permission to overclock the shit out of it, run 53879205893 browser tabs, run my games, software, anything he needed to do to push it to its limits and see if he could replicate the problem.

I am terrified if it has to do with the motherboard, because that will be an expensive replacement that will also potentially lead to losing files / installations / etc. depending on how big an issue it is. It could also potentially be Windows 11 having a hissy fit especially seeing as how it's freezing up on startup, but doesn't freeze on the BIOS screen when it loads up in safe-mode after hard resets, so something is clearly happening between the hard boot-up and the startup of Windows 11 itself.

Thankfully I do have Google Drive sync support and plenty of external HDD's that I can back my stuff up to, but with the freezing and restarting getting as bad as it's been, I haven't been able to back anything up, and I don't want to risk doing it manually if it'll just freeze and potentially corrupt my files in the process. So I told the guy to call me if he needed to mess with anything concerning the system storage so that, if he could at least keep it running stable in the shop, then I could swing by and get everything I needed synced up safely before he messes around with anything.

It could also very well have something to do with the power supply itself, the house that I occupy the main floor of isn't exactly built with electric optimization in mind, we've had fuses blow on us before just from running the hair dryer at the same time as the TV, so if it's something to do with the PC drawing too much power for the electrical system here to keep up with, either (hopefully) the guy will be able to instruct me on how to lower and manage that power intake through the PC's BIOS (I believe you can but I'm still a massive noob on custom builds and I don't want to go tinkering with it myself) or, idk, maybe I'll have to get my landlord to drop by again with his electrician and check out the fuses to make sure they're all operating properly. I'm not an electrician either, so fuck if I know at this point what could be going on. I feel like it can't be the house itself because everything else is running fine and it's just become a recent issue, but our city's power grid is also not exactly praised for being good at its job, especially not in the winter.

So yeah, I'm a little - well, a lot - stressed right now, but all I can really do at this point is wait. Fortunately, I have my iPad and also remembered that I still have my old PC, so I've hooked it up, at best if the problem repeats itself on this PC then I'll know it has to do with the display monitor, at worst I'll just be stuck working with my clunky old hardware for a couple days, which is annoying, but it'll get the job done. Fortunately I had the newest episode of Rekindled uploaded to the cloud in Clip Studio so I can still download it and work on it, which was my biggest worry when everything started to go belly-up (next to just, like, having a working PC).

Sooooo yeah. It's annoying, but I'm hoping for the best. Send good vibes y'all, I really could use it rn, between this and slow traffic at work and some other personal shit that's been going on, it's been a shitty few days (╥﹏╥)

And yeah, I'll keep y'all updated on if it affects this week's update, it really shouldn't honestly as most of the work left is doable from both my iPad and PC, but obviously at this point anything can happen so if anything has to be postponed or changed to accommodate the current situation, I'll update y'all as soon as I can! Thanks everyone, y'all are the best, wish me luck <3

[maxiswitchcraftandpaganblog]

Apps for Witches and Pagans 🔮🦉

Co-Star

Co-Star is a Western astrology app. It is entirely free except for if you would like to “ask the void” a question. You have to buy questions for that.

You enter your birth date and time and it calculates your birth chart and gives you daily updates. You can click on each update to see the astrological explanation behind it.

There is also a friends and partner function but I have never used it haha

Price: free with in-app purchases, no subscription

Discord

Most people already know about Discord. It is typically used as a messaging and video call app. But I like to use it for my prayer journal.

I made a private server with nobody in it and made a separate channel for each deity’s prayer journal. It works very nicely and I can access it on any device that can use Discord.

There is also a witchcraft Discord bot called Cabot, which includes tarot, 8-ball, coin flips, moon phases, and other features. It is entirely free :)

Price: free with an optional subscription

Freeform

Freeform is an app built in to iOS devices. It’s an infinite canvas app where you can insert text, drawings, pictures, and stickers.

I personally use it for my digital altars!

Price: free

Labyrinthos

Labyrinthos is an app that helps you learn tarot! It includes reversals as well. There are a few different decks available within the app.

You can also pull a daily tarot card (or a three card spread).

Price: free with optional in-app purchases

Moon Calendar

Moon Calendar is an app that helps you keep track of the phases of the moon. It also tells you about the magical correspondences of the moon phases, and which sign the moon is in.

Price: free with an optional subscription

Moonly

Moonly is an Eastern astrology app. It tells you about the moon phases and what sign the moon is in. It also tells you about conjunctions and if today is favorable for a haircut. It will also give you an Eastern astrology birth chart if you enter your birth date and time.

Price: free with optional subscription

Pinterest

I use Pinterest for inspiration for my craft, but also to find photos for my digital altars. There is a large witchcraft and pagan community on Pinterest. I think it’s worth checking out.

Price: free

Planetaro

Planetaro is an app that calculates the planetary hours for you! Incredibly useful. It has a widget you can put on your homescreen as well!

Price: free

Smiling Mind

Smiling Mind is a guided meditation app. It has all kinds of meditations for all areas of life. Not necessarily a witchcraft or paganism app, but I know meditation is popular in both circles, so this may be helpful to someone.

Price: free

Star Walk 2

Star Walk 2 is an astronomy AR app. You point it at the sky and see what constellations or planets you’re looking at! Very useful.

Price: free with optional in-app purchases

Shit I ran out of room I only have one left 😭😭😭

I’ll put it in a reblog :)