Pinned
'bout time I made an actual intro/pinned post
Heyo, I'm Glitchy (he/they), I'm an old queer who likes fiction and video games. I write and doodle sometimes. I've been on this damned site since 2011.
Current obsessions: Fallen Hero, Wayfarer, FFXIV
My asks are open, I love getting ask games, prompts, questions or just telling me about your ocs. 🧡
[Main OCs] <- filling this out later.
it's late at night and my brain is only half working. but Chen meeting Lucky. How chaotic would that be?
Ok I know I've made this joke already but I can't stop kicking Ortega while he's down and I had to get Chen in on this action.
opening a few commission slots because alas. april is shaping up to be an expensive month for me. more examples of my work under the cut.
Actually, anyone else wanna draw their oc in your favorite irl clothes...? a challenge by @extreme-neutral
whyyyy yes! yes I do! It took me only 1.5 year, here's Ryder in my super fluffy, super warm, super candy pink and printed with white hearts home robe.
And he's also reading this famous Lightning strikes twice novel written by @seawardboundsammy and covered and illustrated beautifully by @extreme-neutral
A small realization might have struck him.
65. "You have to see it for yourself." if you're up for it!
I wrote this in a fever state because the idea hit me so hard, thank you so much for this ask. Pre Rebirth Chargent. Argent's POV.
What am I doing? I think for probably the hundredth time since deciding to come here. The automatic doors slide open faster for me than they would for anyone else, how anyone can tolerate how slow they usually are I'll never understand. But then again, they can't just ask them like I can.
The door man is a professional, he's not even intimidated by me. Most days my status as a Ranger is enough, let alone my reputation as one of the most dangerous women on the west coast. That's not even a brag, if they only knew…
I'm not just dangerous. I'm an apocalypse.
But I'm in control. Of my body anyway, my little friends, but I don't really know how to feel, standing here outside of Ortega's apartment. It's a restless, itchy feeling, the kind that comes with doubt.
I hate doubt.
I ask the doorbell to ring, the cameras that are hidden to anyone but me have probably already dutifully relayed the information back to their master like a dog retrieving prey after a hunt. Cameras are just like that, eager to please. So if I'm caught, hesitation would be useless. And embarrassing.
Julia answers the door quicker than I thought she would, was she waiting? All six feet of her lean in the door way like that stupid tower in Italy, a picture perfect smile stretched across her face.
"Hey Angie."
"Hey." It's better to keep things short with her. Give her and inch and she'll take a mile. "So, why did you call me over?"
"You'll just have to see for yourself." That too bright, too beautiful smile doesn't drop for a second. "It's a surprise."
"I hate surprises."
"I know." She retreats from the door way leaving me only to follow or leave. Asshole. I can't back down now. I have no choice but to follow her into her lair.
Ok, lair was dramatic, maybe I've been watching too many horror movies lately. Her apartment is…nice. Not stylish, not flashy like the clothes she likes to wear but it suits her.
"In here." She waves me into the kitchen.
Deeper into the den. No I already said that was dramatic, maybe I should switch it up to comedies soon.
"I hope you plan on feeding me after I came all the way-" The sarcastic remark sticks my throat that's not my throat when I see whats on the kitchen table.
It's a cake, a beautiful one, all pink shell piping and delicate little roses, and in the middle, the hardest part to miss, are the words Happy Birthday Angie.
I freeze and hate myself for it, feeling far more prey than predator. No, just off guard, I can bounce back from this, I have to, this is…
"It's not my birthday." It's a shaky recovery but I'm gaining my footing again. It's even the truth, it's not even the fake birth date that's in my file. What's Ortega's angle?
"Well maybe I'm late." Julia takes a seat at the table. "Or early, you wouldn't tell me so I had to take matters into my own hands."
"Oh did you?" I find myself taking a seat despite my better instincts.
"Mm hmm, believe it or not you're not the first secretive bastard I've dealt with when it comes to birthdays." She says as a matter of fact as she cuts two slices from the cake, handing one to me. I take a tentative bite, and then another, and another, its infuriatingly delicious, not to mention my friends are hungry too. We must have been too eager because she notices.
"Dios mio do you even ch- I mean, do you like it?" She's looking at us, me, funny.
"It's fine." But she's still looking at me, like a puzzle she needs to figure out, so I need to change tactics. Or even fight dirty. "Did you used to do this for Sidestep?"
"Ah." Julia deflates a little. "Yeah, got me there." An uncharacteristically nervous fidget. A tell, or a distraction?
But she looks at me. Looks at me with her too brown, too sincere eyes and therein lies the problem. Her eyes betray that she's still in love with Sidestep. My eyes betray nothing, sliver slick mirrors, until they aren't.
She's a mess, and I'm a monster. A B-movie plot that would never work out in real life.
She tried. And I'm grateful, even when it hurts. But I can't play second role to a ghost.
"Thanks, for the cake." I take another too big bite.
"Anytime." And she means it. It doesn't hurt less.
65. "You have to see it for yourself." if you're up for it!
I wrote this in a fever state because the idea hit me so hard, thank you so much for this ask. Pre Rebirth Chargent. Argent's POV.
What am I doing? I think for probably the hundredth time since deciding to come here. The automatic doors slide open faster for me than they would for anyone else, how anyone can tolerate how slow they usually are I'll never understand. But then again, they can't just ask them like I can.
The door man is a professional, he's not even intimidated by me. Most days my status as a Ranger is enough, let alone my reputation as one of the most dangerous women on the west coast. That's not even a brag, if they only knew…
I'm not just dangerous. I'm an apocalypse.
But I'm in control. Of my body anyway, my little friends, but I don't really know how to feel, standing here outside of Ortega's apartment. It's a restless, itchy feeling, the kind that comes with doubt.
I hate doubt.
I ask the doorbell to ring, the cameras that are hidden to anyone but me have probably already dutifully relayed the information back to their master like a dog retrieving prey after a hunt. Cameras are just like that, eager to please. So if I'm caught, hesitation would be useless. And embarrassing.
Julia answers the door quicker than I thought she would, was she waiting? All six feet of her lean in the door way like that stupid tower in Italy, a picture perfect smile stretched across her face.
"Hey Angie."
"Hey." It's better to keep things short with her. Give her and inch and she'll take a mile. "So, why did you call me over?"
"You'll just have to see for yourself." That too bright, too beautiful smile doesn't drop for a second. "It's a surprise."
"I hate surprises."
"I know." She retreats from the door way leaving me only to follow or leave. Asshole. I can't back down now. I have no choice but to follow her into her lair.
Ok, lair was dramatic, maybe I've been watching too many horror movies lately. Her apartment is…nice. Not stylish, not flashy like the clothes she likes to wear but it suits her.
"In here." She waves me into the kitchen.
Deeper into the den. No I already said that was dramatic, maybe I should switch it up to comedies soon.
"I hope you plan on feeding me after I came all the way-" The sarcastic remark sticks my throat that's not my throat when I see whats on the kitchen table.
It's a cake, a beautiful one, all pink shell piping and delicate little roses, and in the middle, the hardest part to miss, are the words Happy Birthday Angie.
I freeze and hate myself for it, feeling far more prey than predator. No, just off guard, I can bounce back from this, I have to, this is…
"It's not my birthday." It's a shaky recovery but I'm gaining my footing again. It's even the truth, it's not even the fake birth date that's in my file. What's Ortega's angle?
"Well maybe I'm late." Julia takes a seat at the table. "Or early, you wouldn't tell me so I had to take matters into my own hands."
"Oh did you?" I find myself taking a seat despite my better instincts.
"Mm hmm, believe it or not you're not the first secretive bastard I've dealt with when it comes to birthdays." She says as a matter of fact as she cuts two slices from the cake, handing one to me. I take a tentative bite, and then another, and another, its infuriatingly delicious, not to mention my friends are hungry too. We must have been too eager because she notices.
"Dios mio do you even ch- I mean, do you like it?" She's looking at us, me, funny.
"It's fine." But she's still looking at me, like a puzzle she needs to figure out, so I need to change tactics. Or even fight dirty. "Did you used to do this for Sidestep?"
"Ah." Julia deflates a little. "Yeah, got me there." An uncharacteristically nervous fidget. A tell, or a distraction?
But she looks at me. Looks at me with her too brown, too sincere eyes and therein lies the problem. Her eyes betray that she's still in love with Sidestep. My eyes betray nothing, sliver slick mirrors, until they aren't.
She's a mess, and I'm a monster. A B-movie plot that would never work out in real life.
She tried. And I'm grateful, even when it hurts. But I can't play second role to a ghost.
"Thanks, for the cake." I take another too big bite.
"Anytime." And she means it. It doesn't hurt less.
75 prompts to write drabbles or longer stories.
Have fun creating and writing!
If you like my blog and want to support me, you can buy me a coffee or become a member! And check out my Instagram! 🥰
Tegan sketch com from @rab-bitly, I love how he came out in his style! 💙
❤️🔥❤️🔥❤️🔥
More of these two.
Shou Xin aka 手訫 aka Xin Shou (Chinese, based Henan, China) - A group of mischievous little line-drawn cats is pouncing your way!, Drawings: Pencil, Eraser, and small Knives for added texture
@camillathe6th's brand new fresh step Romare
i loveeee writing "he should". he should reach out. he should take his hand. he should say something. he should reassure him. he should walk away. he should let it go.
never does btw. none of it, but he really should.
“you dtf?” yeah i’m dumber than fuck
truly nothing funnier than having an archive of when you first started getting into a media that has since consumed your entire life
you see an old post of yours thats dated like a month after you got introduced to Media and it says like “huh im kinda liking Blorbo Bingus? but he’s not really my favorite. he seems sillyyy though he’s neat i’m sure he’s nice :)” and you just
