Introspect // Dabi x f!reader (18+)

Synopsis: The past never dies. But it can often be forgotten. (3.4k)

Warnings: yandere, obsessive behavior, captivity, stalking, violence, noncon/at best dubcon smut, jealousy, delusion, denial, implied PTSD, deterministic and nihilistic philosophical paradigm, Dabi's POV—stream of consciousness type fic

A/N: wrote this in 3hrs. majorly inspired by (and dedicated to) my fave tumblr writer, new magic wand by tyler the creator and this dabi art 🖤

Happy. You looked happy, that’s what he thought when he saw it.

Not in a way you’d been with him anyway. He didn’t know whether that was for the better. The first thing he thought was you posted him. Of course you would. He was not patched, burnt or looking like someone who escaped the psychiatric ward. Without proper clothing, jumping out of a window, frantically running towards the opposite direction. Was it a matter of appearance? Or did you just not like him enough? He wouldn’t know, you hadn’t spoken in a month. And some days. That’s when you told him you needed space. Seriously, people needed to come up with better excuses, this one was over-saturated. Was it bad he clung onto you? It’s not like you had many friends, all he had asked was more of your time. Your stupid job wasn’t even that important—he never bothered finding out what you did exactly, it’s not like he didn’t care, he just wanted you there. The rest of your whereabouts were none of his business as long as you were not conversing (excessively) with anyone else. Because even then, why would you need to do that? He could do it for you.

He had no actual job, well, classifying as a villain doesn’t get you far in life, he called himself a freelancer. Freelancer in murder and theft, maybe. But he felt like he had a share in serving divine justice. A modern vigilante so to say. Any accidental death was a misfortune, a predetermined fate. He didn’t want to pretend to be integrated in society for you to like him, he was lucky because he didn’t have to. Which then reminded him of how he met you.  

Petting strays at night wasn’t careful of you, especially with the crime rates in the city. But you had done so regardless, he remembers it vividly: You in an alley, on your knees, not caring about the dirt coming in direct contact, extending your hand. The cat was barely visible, he could only make out its yellow eyes. But then, the cat saw him, he knew cats had brilliant vision and it left you, perhaps in thought he had food you didn’t. You turned your head only to take a step back. Not smart, you landed on your ass as you opened your mouth. Did he scare you? Of course, what a stupid thing to ask. Under other circumstances he’d leave. Making fun of strangers wasn’t really his thing, not unless they deserved it, but the cat seemed to take a liking to him. Animals loved him, his mom used to tell him not to trust people who repelled them, it was a bad sign. Animals had instinct, animals could tell. He decided to pet the little guy (or girl?), as he kneeled down and softly touched its head. That was another thing about cats. They didn’t give a fuck about the staples or burnt odor, they just wanted food and the occasional touch. He liked cats. He could see himself in them. Something in the domesticity of the situation must've calmed you down because you fixed your posture and to his surprise approached him. It was still dark, you were still a woman and alone in an alley. 

‘’He likes you.’’ You told him. Had you already figured out it was a male stray? Dabi must’ve underestimated you. Your voice hid a whine, a soft protest but it was not annoyance and he shifted his gaze.

‘’Yeah.’’ was all he said. 

‘’Can I?’’ You asked. Why were you asking for permission, this wasn’t even his cat. 

‘’Sure.’’

You were so close, trying not to scare the cat and also touch him, he noticed. Your finger tried to avoid his but the cat’s head was unfortunately not that big so you eventually grazed a digit over him. You hadn’t flinched back then, hadn’t even scrunched your nose, were you not afraid? Didn’t the smell and appearance repel you? Apparently not, you seemed so invested in getting the cat to like you. It wasn’t like it didn’t. The stray ended up loving you, purring at your touch and looking in your eyes, like a man in love. And maybe it wasn’t just the cat. 

-

Within three days of your first encounter he had you on his chest, in your apartment of course, where else could he have you? He wanted to fuck you the first time he saw you, but the urge wasn’t that violent, which had taken him by suprise. You also did not seem like the type to give it up easily. He’d have to do some mental jumping jacks to get you, he didn’t worry about revealing too much though; he didn't have a lot to say, his old identity long buried away with his sensitivity. He still didn’t feel like hurting you. The first night he told you his name, Dabi, and it was so convincing, he too had believed it. You exchanged trivial information neither cared about and he offered company on your way back. He scolded you for being alone in the neighborhood, like some good samaritan, he laughed as he guided you through dimly lit alleys with zero traffic. 

‘’Want to come inside?’’ You had asked. Already? Were you that easy? But who was he to say no?

Your place was small, as expected, neat and tidy, with a few clothes on the bed, nothing bad. It smelled nice too, he noticed a small plant on the coffee table. How gullible to let him in like that. Dabi imagined how many times you must’ve been wronged in life. But you being you—it was probably something that flew over your head daily. You’d call it compromise, he’d call it stupidity.

He had fucked you in missionary that night, a true gentleman, easing his way inside and slightly towering, making sure the stapled skin under his sternum didn’t touch your sensitive one. You were soaking by the time you stopped making out and he slid a finger inside, warm and enticing, his cock hardened in primal ways. He had softly thrown you on your bed (his definition of soft wasn’t exactly soft, you had let out a groan, was it bad?) and climbed on top. You were looking at him expectantly, your eyes glassy, was that pain or excitement, Dabi would bet bucks on the latter. The way you had shyly parted your legs, not for his cock, but to fit him in between was sickeningly pretty, he could swear he was almost…nervous to slip his cock inside. And he was right, trying to fit it inside failed him two or three times while he pretended to toy your clit with his cockhead. You didn’t seem to mind, his act must’ve been convincing, you were softly moaning and your eyes dared to look at the sight of his swollen tip against your lower lips, was it pretty? He had fucked you as hard as he would allow himself—your body could take it, he had to be honest, the more he stuffed you, the more he needed to drive his cock further into your soft walls, there was no room for play pretend romance here. But you seemed to like it too, wrapping your arms around the bare part of his back, fingers accidentally trailing the stapled skin and groaning near his face. ‘’Fuck.. right there.. D-Dabi! More!’’ More? Sure, you could have more. A patched arm strongly pinned a leg above your head, touching the bed frame, as his stiff and pained cock violated your cunt, he could feel how deep he was and constantly fought the urge to spill already. As for you? Tears from your eyes fell down your now stained sheets as you screamed. Pleasure, pain, honestly he didn’t care much about what it was, your pussy clamping down on him the last thing he felt before he bit down your neck, almost ripping out the skin tissue. His cum slowly trickled out, while both of you panted, each exhale synchronizing with the clock ticking in the kitchen. 

There were no voids you could fill, he knew it, interacting with others proved to be a daily reminder. But there were voids you soothed, pain you healed just with your head resting where a heart used to be. Heart beating irregularly, like his feet in his childhood, with excitement, with a different type of eagerness. These weren’t thoughts he made that night and that’s how he knew he liked you. That night his mind was blank for the very first time, carefree from reality, from the ugliness of living—you had sex with some stained villain, who hadn’t only stained your cunt, but your sheets too, your morals indirectly and heart along the way. These thoughts came to him when he saw the photo. Space. You said you needed space. There wasn’t any relationship established, what the fuck you needed space for? Because now, he had found something to give waking up a reason. Someone to regularly satisfy his cock with, someone to take away his thoughts and halt his aimless wandering. And you needed space. How lame. You know what? He could give you space. Indirectly of course. He’d still follow you around, check the whereabouts and conversations, sit outside your house and watch you get undressed. But you looked happy. And he couldn’t decipher in what way. Was he a friend? Who gives a fuck about the guy anyway, why were you smiling like that? You never posted him, that's for sure, you knew in the three months of irregular hanging out (to call it dating would be a joke) that he hated it. And so you never did, even though he wanted you to deep down. Something small. A grocery store visit, one you made when he said he’d cook dinner (he had burnt it). But you never did and now here you are posting with someone irrelevant. 

Murder wasn’t the answer. Stupidly enough it was always associated with morality. But you’d think Dabi would have none of that. He thought murder was stupid. No second of his time ought to be wasted for the next guy. Though he had to admit, he often contemplated whether you’d want this. You didn’t know shit about him. But a sudden murder would definitely have you crawling for protection. And who better than the one who committed it? He honestly wouldn’t go out of his way to do all that. He wanted you organically. It had been a long time since he wanted someone. But you sufficed. You were enough. You never asked, never complained, not even when you’d come home from work, exhausted and dirty and he was waiting at your door. Not even when you were shoved against the cupboards and fucked without remorse—you still wrapped your legs around him and whimpered on his neck. And fuck if that didn’t feel good. He hugged you in your sleep. You’d both sleep in opposite directions, you first of course, so you’d never notice he switched sides and brought a leg over yours, resting his head on your throat, feeling each breath, each pulse. You’d wake up confused at the position, he’d say he didn’t remember. These were the few nights he could reach REM state. No vivid dreams of course, a shipwreck maybe and some elevator descending, lack of control or whatever bullshit he read once. He could still dream though, a miserable reminder he was still human. 

He was always mean. The world didn’t care to mold someone into being nice. What would that even be? He thought nice meant exchange. Be nice and you’d get a pair of shoes. Act nice and you’ll get to watch TV. Treat others with respect and you’d be the family’s topic of discussion over Christmas. Sure, there were selfless people, he wasn’t crazy to think there weren’t a few of them left. You’d be his prime example. And you weren’t even stupid. But your willingness to help and give bordered exploitation. It hit him like lightning. You needed to get away, the real world was doing damage to people like you. If you were with him, you wouldn't have to think twice about being taken advantage of. He’d still be mean, you wouldn’t change that. But at least you’d sleep assured knowing that he’d never, ever demand something from you. Well…besides your presence, though he’d take you as you are, so in retrospect you’d come to appreciate him for the service. 

When he came to pick you up (abduct sounded rough—you’d also want this eventually) you had just finished work. To others you seemed fine, to him you looked exhausted. No need for mask, no need for clothes, he had everything arranged. You hadn’t objected much, he tried the kind approach first, he had only asked you to go for a ride with him in a car he stole, something you’d never know. The place was a dump, a couch covered in dust and a rusty kitchen, but you’d both make it work. It wasn’t like he couldn’t find money. He would, eventually. He remembers the way your eyes widened, what were you expecting, a trip to the countryside for some mimosas? You should’ve known better. ‘’What are we doing here?’’ You had asked, looking him in the eyes, you seemed frightened like the first time you saw him in the alley, it all ends in the beginning of the cycle, such a paradox, he thought. ‘’This is our new place.’’ He cooed as he approached you, you took a step back. There really was no reason for you to be scared, you’d grow to understand the only thing scaring you would be losing him. 

He had tried to kiss you but you protested, pushing him away, a shame really and he wanted to continue with the nice approach. Well, then again nice didn’t really exist so it wouldn't have worked anyway. He kissed you, your mouth was closed but not for long before it was forced open, arms snaking around your waist and pinning you to a wall collecting condensation since god knows when. He was on your neck, kissing, biting, frenzied moves really, he needed you more than he needed whatever kept him alive. Three months ago, he stopped thinking. Now, the only thing he thought was you. He dragged you to the dusty sofa, he thought of using his quirk to burn the fabric, but ripping it out came naturally. You were laid out naked and shivering, his hands grabbed your waist—was this warm enough for you? You whispered something, maybe it was louder than a whisper, stop or whatever but he couldn’t listen. He found your cunt immediately, he was almost drooling at the sight, when was he that hungry ever again? Something about your life. People behind. You said something, he didn’t listen. You weren’t that wet like the first time, he understood. Women, they need emotional connection. Maybe a sloppier kiss to get them going. He found your mouth again, forcing you to kiss him back while he gorged on yours, a small movement in your hips, a pad of his finger back on your cunt. Wetter, perfect. He slid up a finger, curling it while his thumb grazed over your clit, you whimpered. That was a sound he could finally register. He’d bring back that smile, but it’d be for him only. One finger turned to two and eventually three, he needed to stretch you out to take him, nothing had changed since the first time, just his eagerness. His cock throbbed in his black pants, he wanted to taste you. 

You moaned and attempted to touch his hair. He didn’t mind but this wasn’t the time. He moved his head lower, spreading your thighs open and spitting on your clit. Spittle dripped down your slit and his index finger trailed it along the entrance, earning him a moan. See, you already enjoyed this too much. This would be your life now on, he’d fuck you till you wouldn’t want another thing. Captivity had a good side after all. He’d treat you so well, he wouldn’t even have to force all that domestic bullshit on you. You’d do it willingly. He eats your cunt out like it's the most sacred meal, sloppily and without coordination, pushing his tongue inside and gripping your thighs forcefully and what is this? You buck your hips up, wanting more, needy little slut. Perfect, so perfect for making him stop thinking. Making him forget. His cock must leak precum, it feels uncomfortable and he wants you to coat his tongue, he really does, but please understand, he needs you. Now. To bother removing his pants fully would be hilarious, he has neither time nor desire to do so, they’re slid down half way, his cock jumps on his abdomen and he gives it an impatient stroke—looking at you always. Let me go. You say, what? Were you stupid? Right before the best part? Right before the start of a new life? Of a life you should be living years ago? Delusional, you’re delusional. ‘’You love me, baby.’’ He tells you and lets his cockhead slip in your entrance, bit by bit until he’s bottomed out and you wince, he doesn’t move just for a second, this should be enough and then starts thrusting without consideration. Like it’s an incentive, like you’re a hole that needs filling, a mere means to an end. You protest a bit more, if you get louder he might have to get violent on you, please understand he doesn’t want this. You’ll get it, eventually. He can’t decipher the look on your face, it certainly doesn’t scream happy like in the photo. 

And then he’s reminded of the photo and a rage is born. ‘’Did he fuck you this well?’’ He spears his cock inside, you are hitting against the arm of the couch, your mouth contracts and you dampen his cock, so he must be doing something right. ‘’Tell me, did he fuck this cunt?’’ He asks and you just moan—are you dumb? Why aren’t you answering? His arms envelop the throat, pressing on the carotid artery as your muffled moans get even more constricted, he spits on your face and demands an answer. Dirty. Slut. Dirty. ‘’N-o’’ comes out your mouth. He hadn’t tainted you? He hadn’t touched you. ‘’I’m sorry.’’ He wipes the saliva off your cheeks, it’s so...wet? Are you crying? Why are you crying? He hates it. ‘’I’m sorry.’’ He kisses you while he plunges deeper, you groan and try to avoid him, stop doing this, you’re his now, it’s final. ‘’I’ll make you feel better, alright?’’ He breathes out, he knows you like his fingers, he knows. His thumb circles achingly, longingly even on your puffy clit while you clench around him, your breathing is labored, you have to cum—cum now! On his cock, show him how much you love him. A few more strokes and he has you clamping down, more tears, so many tears and you moan out his fake name, with anger maybe or an orgasm high, he can’t tell and he doesn’t care either, it’s enough. He needs to steal a kiss one last time and feel the way you squeeze and soak all around to let his load paint you white, maybe he is like a woman after all, longing for emotion, even when he has to fulfill plain instincts. You don’t talk after it, you don’t even blink, you aren’t passed out, are you? He wasn’t that hard, come on now. He has to remove himself, clean you up, the couch and he the least of his priorities. You need to get accustomed. You’ll love it. 

You never ask. About the photo. About your family. About anything prior. But that’s not something he dwells upon, he doesn’t like to look back. You still sleep next to him, well, there aren’t many other options available, yet you do. You still breathe softly in your sleep, he still hugs you from behind. You’ve become a sedative, a very much needed one. He dreams some days, an elevator falling, a shipwreck. Only, you’re there this time. 

The few days he remembers the dream, he appreciates the company. He can only hope you do, too. 

So, Gunwild, the writer of Cassiopeia Quinn, made a comment on that post about webcomics turning into illustrated prose

gunwildversuseverything said: I was hoping this would prompt a discussion about formats and expression, but no, it’s about artist versus writer workloads and “amount of story” being reduced to equations and word counts and update schedules. Figures.

And you know what, it's a good point. So instead of getting into the Artist vs Writers debate for the millionth time, let's take a look at how you, and artist and/or writer, can get a story told on the internet. For the sake of this discussion, lets assume you don't have any actual preference for a given medium that might influence you, you just want to know what's right for your story and will learn whatever skills you need.

TRADITIONAL WEBCOMIC

Comics are the most visual-heavy medium that a solo project can realistically do. This has several business advantages (pictures do better on social media), but it's also a good fit for stories with a bunch of things that are interesting to look at. Cassiopeia Quinn is a story heavily featuring weird alien races, cool spaceships, and attractive young women with extraordinarily casual dress codes. These are visual things! And visual things can be conveyed super quickly and subtly using visuals. Imagine just the "Cassiopeia doesn't wear pants" gimmick, if this was written out. If Cassiopeia gets a description of her appearance the first time she shows up in chapter one and then it's kind of glossed over, the reader would forget. If every time Cassiopeia entered a scene Gunwild had to go

Cassiopeia sauntered up to the motorcycle rack. Her own rack was barely contained by a dangling strip of black fabric, visible through an open orange jacket. Black elbow-high sleeves, covering her hands, matched her thigh-high stockings, separated from her black panties by her thigh pouch.

Somehow it's a lot less cute when it's written out like this, huh? And it also takes way longer to read that then it does to just look at her on the page, which increases the chance your readers might get bored. Comics are the medium that takes the most time to make and also the least time to read, which makes readers a lot more likely to put up with exposition or a plot tangent that doesn't really connect with them. Even if your comic has bits that don't grip your readers, they can grip themselves if you show them interesting bits.

The main downside of comics is the "equations and update schedules" part. They take a looooooong time to make, even compared to everything else. It's also got issues with how people read it. A comic that looks good on a desktop often looks too small on a phone.

TEXT UNDER A PANEL

This style is so strongly associated with Homestuck that a lot of people who weren't making explicitly Homestuck-themed comics seem to have been scared off it. But it's a perfectly cromulent format. It reads well on both desktop and mobile, and lets you use art for all your visuals while using text for dialogue and character thoughts. It's not, however, the best fit for every story. Because each panel is separate, it can be hard to make an exciting action scene this way, which is part of why this format is also associated with special animated pages (I mean, besides "Homestuck did it"). The panels don't really flow into each other, and there's a constant switching between looking and reading.

ILLUSTRATED PROSE

Distinguished from the Text Under a Panel Style mostly by the ratio of text to art, without a hard line demarcating the distinction between them. This style also reads well in desktop and mobile. Well, it should, but a lot of webcomics who switch to this style tend to stay in their webcomic format, meaning it's a picture of text that doesn't resize legibly, grumble grumble. I don't....I don't know if I need to explain the concept of "text" to people. You know what words are, and if you don't there's nothing I can say to explain it.

VISUAL NOVEL

I'm not going to claim to be a visual novel expert, but the main advantages are that it's the most art-efficient medium of any of these (because you can flat-out reuse art), the main disadvantages are that you'll usually need music, it's maybe not as well suited to long monologues, and most importantly that it's not a good method for drip-feed three-day-a-week updates. You kind of have to release the entire thing all at once, or at least in large episodes.

ALL OF THE ABOVE

A comic like Out-of-Placers is mostly traditional, but uses illustrated prose for lore updates. Prequel is text-under-a-panel but not always, and of course Homestuck is the absolute king of format switching, even ignoring the animations. The upside is that you can use the best format for any given scene, and that you're constantly keeping your readers on their toes. The downside (besides having to learn to do all this shit) is that you kind of have to commit to the bit and get your readers on board early with the idea that you're going to just be doing whatever this week. It's also harder to take full advantage of any one medium if you're constantly switching them up

I'm sure I'm forgetting about two hundred formats, but what are the biggest ones I'm missing?

Exactly one person asked for this but that was exactly one person enough so here y'all go, enjoy the rest of the channels and their high school tropes

Nomad

Caleb and Pack Mom - Childhood friends everyone assumes is already dating (They keep correcting people but secretly enjoy it cause they've been crushing on each other for years)

Connor and Lass - Club president and joined cause she liked him ("Come on, keep up! What are you staring at?" "You. I mean-!")

Deacon and Little One - Book smart introvert and street smart extrovert ("I've never failed a test in my life" "And I've knocked out a gang members tooth once. You tell me which one is more practical")

Chester and CM - Class clown and assigned tutor ("How do you put up with him?" "Remembering he's cute and a lot of caffeine")

Mitch and Lamb - Second generation rivals ("My dad said to tell you you won't win a second time" "Funny, my uncle said to expect it")

Beau and Chef - "Secret" admirer and knowing crush (Constantly leaves notes and gifts in her locker, she absolutely knows it's him but doesn't say anything even though she likes him back cause she thinks it's adorable)

Harlow and Captain - Frequently injured and assigned helper ("How'd you break your leg this time?" "Would you believe me if I said I fell off a roof?" "...goddammit")

GB

Yargwynn and Paradise - Lead in the play and stage manager (Paradise is actually a really solid singer but has paralyzing stage fright so they just stay as stage crew)

Mak and Darling - Delinquent and "I can fix him" girl (Frank is Mak's attempted wingman, he tries so hard to get these two together)

Guardian and Zed - Foreign exchange student and guidance helper assigned to them (Even better if Guardian doesn't speak the language well so they just stare when Zed is talking which makes him nervous and he rambles more, Guardian thinks it's cute)

Albus and Faithful - School flirt and class president tutoring him (Don't lie, you're imagining it now)

Hipswitch and Partner - Reluctant student and quiet art kid project partners (Partner talks through notes ripped from the corners of his sketchbook)

Pandora - Principal's kid that everyone is kinda scared of (Is actually really nice with just a hint of overblown ego, blame football star Odin for that)

Redacted

David and Angel - Quiet kid and popular girl fake dating (Angel dug herself in a hole and needs a fresh face to get out of it, David is only mildly reluctant cause he thinks Angel's pretty)

Asher and Babe - Football star and cheerleading captain (Don't ask, this is the one that inspired all the rest and now it's stuck here)

Milo and Sweetheart - Club presidents fighting for budgeting (SH runs the NHS chapter, Milo runs the drama club, both slightly resent each other because they need the funding)

Darlin and Sam - Frequently in detention and never in detention ("And just what has landed the school's goody goody in my neck of the woods?" "...I broke a guy's nose." "Hah, same.")

Vincent and Lovely - Superintendent's kid who ditches class and vigilant hall monitor ("Come on, can't you let it slide just this once~" "Do you want me to call your dad?" "No, no, I'll go back, please don't call him-")

Gavin and Freelancer - Academic rivals (FL actually takes it seriously, Gavin only pretends cause he loves to watch FL work)

I think I got all of them

I hope I got all of them

This is going to be a nightmare to tag-

Your art on rule 34 🤡

Oh no, what a nightmare....

Not!

We all know you are the same troll that makes millions of sub accounts just to harass people as if that would work, but this is just laughable that you are trying and failing to taunt me as if this will hurt me in anyway. Congrats, you played yourself. The sheer stupidity of you committing art theft and showing your account on that degenerate site just shows how dumb you are. Did you honestly think I would be offended by you giving me evidence of your troll account which shows all your mental illness in one go. I mean, you gave me free advertisement which is a small plus but really I'm cackling at how pathetic you look doing this, thinking you have an ounce of power. As if you are to be feared just cuz you stole people’s art and twisted it.

Get out if your lil power trip, get some mental help, and maybe people will actually respect you. Cuz the only thing you're succeeding at in life is bringing people together that aren't toxic like you and they all despise the bullshit you're doing I literally could care less about your tantrums, real adults wouldn’t waste their time with a pathetic degenerate like you, but I’m responding only because you have shown yourself for the true psycho you are. I've seen all the stupid shit you have been pulling at some sad attempt for attention, I feel bad for the people that get hurt but wow, talk about you exposing yourself as the lil arrogant dumbass you are. I'm not even involved and I've seen all the racial slurs you've been throwing around, saying everyone that supports the people you don't like are white and racist, fun fact dumbass-

I'm a person of color, I'm Hispanic and as such seeing you trying to represent this is disgusting. I do not advertise my race because unlike you Race does not define my being, I do not judge people based on race, I form mutual respect with others that show me that same respect as a person. Race doesn’t mean shit when you are mental case trying to cause problems where there are none. I’ve already seen you reach out to multiple people to try and taunt them with false accusations, and the sheer fact you are racially profiling everyone based on art is even more racist in itself. I'm not even inolved in whatever drama your pulling, but you pulling the victim card just cuz you are a person of color is despicable, and you have the audacity to falsely claim I'm white is incredibly racist. Being white isn’t insulting, so what of the color of your skin. The people you insult are wonderful people we enjoy interacting with, and you are not and that has nothing to do with the color of your skin. I could be like you and be all "Oh boo hoo, are you scared of colored people, show more representation?!". But We are better than that, and left wondering what the actual hell is wrong with you. People are people no matter what race, and what you have shown is you are not deserving of being called equal if you don't have the human decency to treat others with respect. This is a place for people to enjoy their own lil piece of obsession, but you have taken it too far. One day I hope you go get the help you need, but seeing as how desperate you are for any shred of attention, you are beyond help. And as such your behavior does not deserve an ounce of attention.

People ignoring your stupidity isn't out of fear, it's the mercy they are giving you because why Grace stupidity with a response. You are pushing people to that point where they will no longer be tolerant to your Bs and I can promise you that will never get what you want. Take the hint, cut it out, and if you are just so offended by everyone here, then leave. People have better things to do in life, and you should probably put this ridiculous obsession into something more positive and productive. It makes you look an utter fool.

All of us will continue making what we love while you rot in your lil troll corner, with no courage to actually talk things out like an adult and the evil in your heart to try and fail to make everyone miserable. Imma keep laughing from your stupidity as I keep making what I love. If you wanna keep harassing, lying, and stealing art, go ahead and dig your own grave. Go ahead and give people more reasons to dislike you, I found this hilarious.

Let this be a post for those being harassed by this lil psycho or do not condone this idiocy, keep doing the amazing art and create without feeling as if twisted people have the power to ruin it. Cuz trolls don’t have any power over what you make and like, they will try but fail because they wish they had this confidence to being a respectful member of this fandom. Keep reporting them, keep blocking them, keep showing them that their degeneracy will get them nowhere. There are many of us that love and respect one another, and there is only one miserable ingrate that has nothing better to do than stir up trouble. Don’t let this troll ruin your fun just cuz they are a jealous idiot. They wanna throw around the retard insults at others, get a mirror troll, cuz this just shows how much of a retard YOU are.

thinking about this because i made the mistake of looking at Tumblr replies so pardon the half vent but how do people get in this mindset of "this song isn't good enough for someone to call themselves a musician, they're not a REAL musician" lmfao. like sorry but that teenager or 20-something who just released a TikTok song you don't like is still a musician. like by definition. there is no threshold to be a "real" musician, you spork. everyone has to start somewhere.

same with any form of art actually (that is made without AI). whether you like it or not, whether it's good or bad, someone crafted that shit. they are a "real" writer, they are a "real" artist, they are a "real" crocheter, knitter, sew...er, whatever form of art you're doing, if you're doing it, congratulations, you're now an artist, whether other people like it or not. full stop lmfao.

needed that off my chest rq sorry muts lol

I’m excited to finally be able to share my drawing of my favorite Camp Camp X Gravity Falls crossover idea! :D

A long string of my thoughts regarding the crossover under the pics, you have been warned lol

It’s crazy to me that despite all the jokes that Harrison looks like a human Bill Cipher there is absolutely no fanart (that I have found) of him interacting with any of the Pines.

Yeah there’s art of him with Bill, but the Pine’s family are the ones that have trauma from him and therefore would have the best reaction.

Just imagine them meeting the one kid that not only looks like someone possessed by Bill but also does real honest to god magic and has an affinity for fire!

With how much shit the Pine’s have dealt with it wouldn’t be a stretch for them that Bill came back as a kid. They’d probably assume Harrison was being possessed or something.

Harrison especially looks like Bipper so I’d imagine he’d be especially unsettling to Dipper and Mabel. (Probably gonna draw him and Mabel interacting next)

Dipper immediately being super suspicious of Harrison and doing that stalking thing he does to try and figure him out. Dipper seeing Harrison make a mistake with his magic that makes him not look great and Dipper just freaking out more.

Mabel being uncomfortable with Harrison but trying her hardest to be nice to him because he hasn’t actually done anything yet. Becoming friends when she realizes that Harrison is just a kid and not anything like Bill personality and morality wise.

Harrison enjoyed coloring in that one episode so she could probably get him to do art with her. They’d have so much fun with him showing her his magic tricks, he’d be so happy someone is genuinely interested. His magic would probably improve with the encouragement she would give him.

Mabel being reminded of Bipper whenever Harrison gets a bit arrogant. The thought goes away pretty quickly though cause he usually gets humbled really quickly and just accepts it lol

Ford also immediately being suspicious of Harrison but not doing anything rash yet until he can test him. Losing his shit the first time Harrison does magic in front of him.

Someone on here posted a mini fic thing where they said Ford almost dropkicked Harrison the first time he does magic and I love that (I’ll look for the post later and tag it here) Edit: here’s the link! https://www.tumblr.com/the-sprog/659871894550577153/i-just-had-an-idea-could-you-imagine-a-crossover

Stan giving Harrison the benefit of the doubt but keeping a close eye on him whenever he interacts with one of the twins. Not outright hostile to him but not exactly kind either.

Stan somehow finding out about how Harrison accidentally made his brother disappear and immediately noticing the similarities to what happened with him and Ford. He probably gains a bit of a soft spot for Harrison after and gives him pointers on random things, probably a few pep talks.

Oh also I know it’s just a difference in the two art styles but CC characters tend to have more yellow sclera and oval pupils/irises and it really doesn’t help Harrison’s case lmao

I can keep going but this post is already really long so I’ll stop for now haha 😅

girls being nice to me gets me higher than ecstasy ever could

i'm the antonymph of the internet

dont let him get to u

like my personal Advice To You if you’re a small artist with a modest amount of success selling your designs on RedBubble, like maybe you make a couple hundred dollars... You’ll make so much more money just buying some sticker paper, self-adhesive laminate sheets, stamps and envelopes and just starting a little Etsy shop. 

tumblr centrist liberals stop acting like voting is the most influential and important political activity you can participate in challenge

man. i changed so much these past years

I gotta be honest I’ve been trying to stay away from rggtwt both because of the unnecessary beef and also because of the rampant whitewashing that seems exclusive to Twitter

Like I know it’s a problem with every fandom but I can’t help but scream every time i see shishido and co lookin absolutely ghostly

funnily enough twitter had been relatively lax on drama as of late, only recently it's been starting up again (tho ig thats cause of the release of gaiden and LAD8 interviews dropping that peple are given reasons to talk bout the games)

/9.10.23

this is a quick ten min doodle of my infamous mc bc i love them so fucking much i am frothing at the mouth. everyone say hi to dante

someone kick my ass into finishing the final touches on my aeryn sun art because it's been taking me too long and enough is Enough