I Lied - Blog Posts
NOT. FREAK OUT. IT'S ONLY TWO WEEKS OR LESS TO GO, I'M GOING, I'M COMING, HOLD ON, HOLD THE NETS OF THESE MACKERELS-
@valletydarwin Vallety, my sweet Vall, my dear friend, one of my roommates, the parental figure in the group, understand that I can't stand these two without you, they are pure chaos juice and they drag me along, and you know I can't say no to their kicked puppy and wet kitten eyes, you know, please hurry up, I don't want to take any more rivotril, I'm going to drop dead in a little while, I wasn't made to be the responsible figure, come back pls...💔
some perspective training
got too excited
reblog if you are a holier than thou devilman fan who vehemently hates crybaby
Hai vendetta leon fans, did you miss me...:3
“HELLO????? PLEASE GOD I JUST WANT A BLACK COFFEE???!?!”
Tom hiddleston has been confirmed which means I’m about to get so delusional lokius nation lock in
Have you ever dissected a frog before?
Yes, and it was delicious.
Yum yum yum in my tum tum tum
The intestines were the best bit yummy yummy froggy spaghetti slurp slorp 😋😋😋😩😩
PEPPERONI OF THE WEEK AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Am i a furry?
HNNNG GUESS WHOS BACK
(I wrote this way too fast because i needed to write this down before i writers block kicked back in so there are probably spelling mistakes, grammar issues (theres always grammar issues with my writing LMAO) goodluck!)
I'm imagining Reader, who is a traveler who goes overseas often. They go to Piltover and meet Vander and decide to join their cause, becoming a merchant to get extra money to bring in.
Reader is getting ready to set sail with their crew and Vander pulls them aside just before they leave and gives them a promise ring. Once they do set sail, Reader waves at Vander until hes out of sight.
While they were away, Vander, Silco, Connol and Felicia helped him plan an actual proposal. When Reader did finally return, they were expecting to be proposed to the second they got off of the ship but to their surprise, they were just welcomed back normally. After the next few weeks, Reader stays suspicious but in the end figures that he's going to wait until after they beat Piltover.
Once Reader is no longer suspicious, they set the plan in motion.
One day, Felicia invites Reader out and they walk around topside. Eventually, Reader is dragged into a shop and Felicia pretends to look around before "spotting" an outfit that Reader also likes. Felicia convinces them to buy it, and they do. They head back and Reader styles the outfit and while they were changing, Connol told her that everything was ready and they both sneak out.
While Reader and Felicia were out, Silco and Connol had been cooking. Reader faintly smells their favourite food as they walk out, all dressed up and see that the only thing waiting for them was a note saying that Felicia had to go.
Before Reader could change Silco shows up and asks them to help him gather some supplies or something. He insists that they don't need to change and they head out, grabbing bits and pieces from various shops before heading in a direction Reader doesn't recognise and before they can ask about it, Silco hands them a blind fold and asks them to put it on. Which they do, now incredibly suspicious (and slightly concerned).
Silco leads them along until they stop and he walks off, and Vander tells them to take off the blindfold, which they do. Immediately seeing that they're stabding ontop of an old building, a gorgeous view of Piltover and the sky, the sun setting, casting a beautiful glow over the city. Two chairs and a table, covered in their favourite food and drink and fairylights strung up all around. And Vander, dressed nicely and looking uncharacteristicly nervous.
They sit down, eat and talk and eventually the sun has set and they're sitting in comfortable silence when Vander breaks it and asks them to stand up. Weeks of practising what to say go straight out the window and he stutters his way through a small speach before he gives up and pops the question, kneeling and holding up a small box.
Reader stares down at him in shock, completely silent- everything he just said processing in their head and as Vander goes to stand up- akwardly apologising- he gets tackled down by Reader, who happily says yes.
...
NOW IMAGINE
Every year, at the same time, on the anniversary of his proposal. Reader puts on the same outfit, grabs their favourite alcohol sits in the same place they sat on that day. Mourning the life that could have been.
I hope you guys know, I looked into my drafts to posts this and i found this
I have no memory of writing this
Mal du pays is so fun to draw.
Weepy beepy eepy meepy lil creature.
"you're right, dude, we don't need dads. we're gonna be fine."
<Just Like You : STRFKR>
Poppy's neighborhood yarnaby doodlesz RAGHHHHH
RAHQHQHAHHQHQ
I'm a bit upset about this, though, because the time I was halfway finished, I realized child yarnaby looks too much like @amiderpsva quinn. And I'm upset bc I really like it😭
•Basically, he was treated like a lab experiment his whole childhood
• he dyed his hair to look like the stuffed lion the doctor had given him a long time ago.
In MJF’s newest interview he calls Hangman Adam Page ‘Hangperson’ which is what Max has been calling him so guys if we think about it that basically means they’re love-*Gunshot*
psst stop scrolling ensign!! happy trans joy tsaturday (brought to you by the triumvirate <333)
doing this a little differently this time. but these are mcspirk affirmations in my heart... there's no wrong way to be trans. and we deserve to experiment, and present in ways that feel right to us, and to grow old and wrinkly and be happy. these guys support all of us and they know that it's possible to be comfortable in your own skin and that you always deserve to feel trans joy. they're proud of you. they want you to know that you will be okay and they believe in you.
bonus t4t4t mcspirk! look at them go <33
I am absolutely tired rn but I feel the need to post all my art pieces of Addair's kids (AU/HC for then I suppose)
All I've done is shittily sketch them mainly but still, somewhere to keep all the singular art of them
If anyone has any questions abt them I'd be happy to answer^^ especially since I'm still tryna figure them out LMAO-
Irene didn’t answer right away. She rarely did — especially when the questions pressed deeper than the surface. When the words weren’t just about facts or logic, but about identity. About the mess between the lines, the in-betweens no one wanted to name. She stayed quiet, fingers brushing the back of Shiv’s hand like she could trace stability into him. Sage had gone still against her, content and warm, her tiny weight curled like a secret under Irene’s chin. She could feel the raccoon’s small breath rise and fall — steady, grounding. A reminder that even here, even now, someone trusted her without conditions.
Her voice, when it came, was quiet. But there was something dense in it — something worn-in and real, like stones pulled smooth by riverwater.
“I wouldn't say I am —no, I don’t know if I am pretending.”
She didn’t look at Juniper when she said it. Not yet. Her gaze drifted somewhere just past her — unfocused, like she was seeing a place she hadn’t stood in for years. A childhood home that never felt safe. A hallway with too many closed doors. A training field with cold-eyed instructors and no room for mercy.
“That’s not fair.”
It wasn’t sharp. It wasn’t defensive. It was just… true, in a way that sat heavy on her tongue.
“I’m a witch.” A pause. A breath. “But that's something I can't admit openly right now. Not to anyone that didn't already know.”
She exhaled through her nose, the sound soft and tired. Not ashamed. Not brave either. Just resigned to the reality of it.
“I’ve always been one. Born with it in my blood, in my bones. I used to think I could choke it down. Tame it. Repress it until it stopped hurting.” Her lips twisted, not quite a smile. “Didn’t work.” Irene reached up absently to push a stray strand of hair behind her ear, the gesture as tired as everything else about her.
“But my father — he was a hunter. So when you say I’m pretending,” she said finally, voice still soft, but anchored now — to the bed beneath her, to Shiv’s pulse under her hand, to all the things she could never say out loud in the halls outside this room — “You’re not wrong, but you’re not right either.”
She looked at Juniper now. Really looked. Her expression was unreadable, not because she was guarding it, but because there was too much written in the lines of it to separate cleanly. Fatigue. Frustration. Certainty and confusion tangled together like thread through the same needle.
“I don’t know what I am. That’s the truth of it. You want honesty? That’s it.”
The words didn’t come like a confession. They didn’t fall out of her like she was unburdening herself. They just were. Like she’d lived with them for so long that saying them out loud didn’t even sting anymore.
“I’m a witch, yes. And I’m the daughter of a hunter. The old kind. The ones who didn’t ask questions, who didn’t flinch when the orders came down, and he loved me, regardless. And I loved him.” Her lips pressed into a line. “So what does that make me?”
She didn’t wait for Juniper to answer. Didn’t expect her to.
“I’ve spent most of my life figuring out how to survive that question without getting myself killed. And I’m still not sure I’ve found the right answer. I walk like a hunter because I need to. I cast like a witch because that’s what I am. And I don’t belong anywhere because of it.”
She leaned back slightly, enough that the line of the spell adjusted again. The shimmer of it tugged in the air, barely visible except in the way her breath shifted to meet its rhythm. Sage didn’t stir, her little paws tucked tight, a low hum of trust vibrating through her chest.
“I’m not playing some long game, Juniper. I don’t have an angle. There’s no infiltration plan or secret witch cabal waiting for me to bring back intel.” Her mouth twitched, just barely. “Though I’m sure some of them would love to think that. Makes for better stories.”
She glanced down again, at Shiv’s hand in hers. Thumb brushing over his knuckles like punctuation.
“We all have our reasons to be here. Some more than others. And if I can use my powers to help them, then why not? Why can't I be a witch in one moment and a hunter at the next? Why can't I care and be both?”
The plate of food was still untouched, but it didn’t feel ignored. Just… postponed. A promise to herself, maybe, that there would be time later. When her hands weren’t full of something fragile.
“I know I’m burning myself down to do this,” she admitted. “You’re not wrong to say it. You’re not wrong to care.” Her voice thinned for a moment, not from lack of conviction, but from the sheer weight of the line she’d been walking. Every day. Every hour. One foot in the light, one foot in the dark. “But it’s not always about what I want. Or what I should. It’s about what I can do. And right now? This is it. This is the only thing that feels like it matters.”
She hesitated then, long enough to let her words settle. To let the moment breathe.
“I’m not asking you to approve of it. I’m not asking you to understand the way I’ve had to twist myself just to survive in a world that would pick me apart no matter which name I wore.” Her baby blues met Juniper’s again — not challenging, just asking, in the simplest way that mattered. “I’m just asking you not to judge me for it and keep it to yourself."
Another breath, thinner now.
“The world isn’t just witches and hunters, good and bad, light and dark. It’s not that simple. You know it’s not.”
Oop she was caught.
Juniper had the decency to look sheepish. Suddenly very interested in the pile of fries in her palm. She knew Irene worked dream magic. To put it as simply as possible, but now she was wondering if she didn’t have some kind of mind reading as well. A horrifying concept. It was already a mess in Juniper's head, she didn’t need another person mucking it up.
“That’s… not exactly it. There are a lot of reasons to pretend to be human… It’s the hunter part of it I don’t get. You are running yourself ragged Irene. You say he’s done the same- I’ll believe you. Thera seems to put stock in him too. Whatever. The one hunter that can be trusted completely I guess.” She sighed
“All that I can rationalize somehow in my head… Pretending to be a hunter? I don’t get it. I don’t see the angle.” It was probably her own biases skewing her perception of the situation. But she couldn’t help that. It felt wrong to just sit by while Irene worked herself down to skin and bone.
“You don’t have to explain anything to me. It isn’t my business. I’m also pretty horrified I couldn’t keep my thoughts off my face. I will have to work on that.” She sat up straighter, getting more situated in her chair.
“I’m just trying to make sure you are aware of your own boundaries Irene, what happens to this spell you are working so hard on if you end up on bedrest as well? It’s not always easy to see the effects our actions are having on us in the moment. You are tired Irene, you are not eating or sleeping enough to maintain this level of spellwork.” It was blunt but she felt it needed to be said.
It was a talk she had given a couple of times when she was coven head. It was also a talk she needed to receive a couple times. She was deeply familiar with both sides of it. Knowing your boundaries as a witch can be some of the hardest learned lessons. Juniper was still reeling from learning her boundaries had been altered; and still learning how to handle the new influx of power. It was a fresh concept to her and she hated to see someone she was starting to see as a friend come up on the wrong side of that delicate line.