"B-but pookie bear you promised you wouldnt hurt them" I grabbed your arm gently resting my hand on it, not squeezing just rested. I looked at you with sorrow and pleading eyes. "not now kitten whiskers...daddy will discuss it later.." he said softly yet in a husky tone. "now forgives us.. We have a show to put on" he slightly bowed rolling his eyes. I blushed hearing his voice and his blonde hair ever so slightly bounced and his gaze softly met mine as his stoic figured straighten as if to protect me. Before slightly walking away, not far but taking a few steps back, I looked at the people.

Hired him for an art commission, was excited to receive it and to my HORROR, I found an AI generated art work sitting in my inbox, i cried and wept at the thought that this 'respected artist' would do this, never again will i hire someone to make an artwork for me, absolutely devastated

“Fishska” — a walking contradiction in a binder and boots. Trans, gay, alt-right, a twitchy autistic twink with a screen-bleached glare and a Twitter ratio to match. He’s caught in a homoerotic love triangle with two men who hate each other almost as much as they hate agreeing on anything. One’s a trad-cath muscle bear with a secret Grindr grid; the other’s a libtard ex-Marine who cries to folk punk. They argue about pronouns, borders, and who gets to drive Fishska home at 2 a.m. None of them admit it’s romantic. It is. It’s a train wreck in three-part harmony — and Fishska, somehow, is the one steering.

I will have proof of you tho

zero proof of that

Celeste Fishska