If you're reading this, then congratulations on finding this weird little space of mine.
What'll I find here?
Pictures. Lots of pictures. Mostly gaming pictures, and mostly of various cars and scenes.
Rambles about my OCs. I have a lot, so expect to be hearing a lot about my characters and their lore (or lack thereof)
Little bits of writing here and there. I'm GODDAMN good at it, so prepare to see the occasional short story with the many characters you'll encounter here
Gay jokes.
Maybe the occasional gaming clip.
Or rant about a game.
Or anime
Or music
Or just life in general.
Okay, but who are you?
Mini, Mini-Z! Friends call me Mini, 20M pansexual weirdo with a heavy hand for gaming, music and writing.
That's cool, but am I even allowed here?
Yes, yes you are! Unless you're a bigot. Then you'll get blocked. Because you're probably an asshole. And NSFW/kink focused blogs. Not because you're an asshole, but because I'm not into all the hornyposting. Other then that, whoever wants to come by, feel free!
Great, so what do you do?
Game. Swear. Write. Be gay and stupid. On 18 Cyberpunk playthroughs and counting. Also into Apex Legends, Stardew Valley, Minecraft, Siege (unfortunately), Metal Gear Solid, Fallout, Baldur's Gate 3, dating sims, etc. I mostly enjoy story based adventures, with racing games and shooters right behind them. I WILL be an author someday, dammit. I enjoy anime, though I've yet to watch certain shows such as Naruto or One Piece (I will eventually, I promise). My favorite though, will always be XXXHOLiC, the whole reason I'm into anime in the first place. My drawing is improving (HAND drawn art, goddammit), still don't expect too much art from me. My music mostly consists is rap, hip hop and rock, but I employ a certain strategy when it comes to this. It's called "Listen to whatever the fuck I want, to hell with genres".
You sound weird.
Good, I am.
I want to know more about you!
My askbox/DMs are open! Feel free to send me something or add me!
The chains wrapped tightly around the victim's body, uncomfortable in their grip as their own body weight worked against them, pulling them further into their grasp. Even the slightest struggle sunk them deeper into the inescapable clutch. The sound of boots against metal echoed around the vast space, each footstep slow, measured, almost rhythmic in their sound- a haunting melody. "Well… Look what fell into my web~" A deep, husky voice crooned from somewhere out of sight. Though the victim turned and twisted their head, they couldn't find the source…
That is, until a pair of piercing green eyes locked into them, their intense glow visible from deep within the dense fog that surrounded them.
"Such a tasty morsel you are… I wonder if you'll prove a feast for my ears as well as my mouth~?"
i have no real hatred towards AI, i think it could be a great tool when used effectively/sparsely, whether that be giving ideas for how to effectively word arguments for papers, touching up the grammar and stuff, ways to convey certain things in a piece of art, or just generally helping bust out of a creative slump or refine work (read more i promise)
my hatred, however, is towards the people who use it as a replacement as opposed to an assistant - people who put "write me a 10 page MLA formatted essay in size 12 font, double spaced, about why the anti AI crowd are a bunch of stupid and smelly poo headed neanderthals and include 5 academic sources" into ChatGPT and then submit that work for school.
people who put "two headed furry with massive honkers, ginormous thighs and an earth shatteringly gigantic ass in a tight, revealing outfit" into any random art generator that's trained off millions of pieces of actual art that the actual, human artists didn't know about or consent to, put the minimally/unedited image on Patreon or Twitter then start charging 10-20-30 bucks for commissions something that takes the AI they use 30 seconds to drum up (and conveniently 'forgetting' to tag/mention that it's AI)
people on youtube who'll write, or more likely generate a script for a topic, slap TTS and ai generated visuals over it, put a nice stinky bow of an ai generated thumbnail and just pump that slop out (not calling them content creators cause they ain't creating content) to get huge followings/rich off kids on autoplay
companies that, instead of hiring experienced artists to design skins, or characters, portraits, things like that, they just task it to an AI then charge gamers 49.99 for a bundle of something an AI spat out in a minute while using up enough water to support a decent sized village for a year just for the execs to pocket even more money
its like putting some sorta self driving assistant system in a car - it's there to help the driver in ways i can't think of right now. it's not necessary and if it fails somehow, like the wires fail, or the city gets hit by a massive EMP, you can still drive the car just fine - but you're not driving the car if you're relying on some sorta full self driving, and if you rely too heavily on it, well, once it fails, you're kinda fucked, you can't drive for shit and didn't really learn anything just letting the car do all the work. and it still doesn't compare to people who can actually drive the damn car themselves (i know that's not the best example, but it still gets the point across I think)
and while the massive amounts of water it uses isn't good either, i believe that it will improve with time, like with any technology. cars can be made more fuel efficient, appliances can be made more energy efficient, eventually AI will (hopefully) follow the same path where maybe a glass of water is used for all the millions of images generated in a month or smth
anyways, that's all, fine with AI, believe the tech will improve to become more eco friendly, possibly less art theft-y and generally better, hate its current uses by AI bros/fakers and corps and they all fucking suck
A group of geese is a gaggle, a group of herons is a siege — what would a group of your OCs be called? (Either all your OCs as a group, or a single OC multiplied to create a group.)
A gentle sigh echoed quietly through the white tiled bathroom, joined by the soft splashing of water.
Her phone in her hand, she savored the feeling of the warm water soaking into her tired muscles, her fingers lazily swiped across the digital keyboard as she texted her bodyguard, getting a response mere moments later.
“Vanessa, girl, be for real. I’ve seen what happens all day, you stand in front of a camera and go ‘click’ and that’s about it! And YOU don’t even go ‘click’, someone else does it for you!”
Vanessa giggled at her ignorance, staring at the bright screen that stood out in the dim lighting of the bathroom. She was met with this kind of ignorance often from people outside the business, but she knew her bodyguard came from an entirely different world than her - they’d spent enough time together that she was starting to learn, but she still didn’t know it all - or just liked messing with her. It was kinda cute too, so she could let it slide.
“What do you mean be for real- I am SO for real! I mean, it’s just like how all you do is stand behind an assault rifle and go ‘click,’ right?”
“For the record, I stand behind a rocket launcher and go ‘click’. When I stand behind an assault rifle, the important click comes like 60 shots later hahahah.”
That drew another snort from her. She reached over towards the glass of wine sitting next to her with her free hand, bringing it to her lips and taking a deep drink, the smooth, rich red liquid working in tandem with the heated water as it slid down her throat to ease the tension in her stiff muscles.
Sometimes, she felt more mannequin than human, being dressed in whatever others felt like and posed however they wanted. However, her routine helped ease that stress, evidenced by the content, relaxed sigh that escaped her lips as she set the glass back down, and typed up another response to her associate.
“Mmmhmm, and how much ammo is in that machine gun of yours, with the extended box magazine? 200 rounds? Still not as many pictures I have to take in one day.”
The flow of the conversation was interrupted by another notification - an email. She opened the message, and scanned over the text:
We wholeheartedly disagree with your decision not to work with us, and sincerely beseech you to reconsider. All the necessary preparations to accept you into our company are in place, and it would be a shame to waste them. We could certainly use someone of your immense talents, and with our help, you could reach even greater heights in your career, and live the life of luxury you deserve.
All the best
VDB
A soft huff of annoyance escaped her lips as she shook her head. Did they really think they could buy her off that easily? She wasn’t an idiot, nor did she appreciate them acting as if she was such. Her fingers stomped across the keyboard as she typed up her response, each rapid tap mirroring her irritation.
> Send | Trash | ··· |
To: VDBModelling
Re: Re: You don’t want to miss this opportunity!
Hello there!
While I appreciate the consideration and am flattered by the offer, I’ll have to decline once again. I’m quite happy with The Raven, as they’ve been good to me since I started on this path. I’ve grown to like my associates and management, and I have everything I could want here. From my career to my finances, I’m well taken care of, and have no desire to change any of that, at least for the foreseeable future.
Vanessa Hall
Hitting send, she sighed softly, leaning back as the fourth rejection made its way back to the underpaid intern likely sending the message out on behalf of their superiors - and right on time, her texts buzzed with a new message from “Rachel”
“Yeah, and I still put in more effort on that one box than you do in the entire day.”
Vanessa couldn’t help but laugh at the audacity of that statement, a gentle, melodic sound that bounced softly off the porcelain walls as her prior irritation quickly dissipated. She pondered her response for a few moments, before the quiet, almost inaudible clicking reached her ears as she resumed typing, picking up right where they’d left off before she was so rudely interrupted.
“Whatever helps you sleep at night. You know as well as I do my work is just as hard as yours, if not harder.”
“Shots are taken ‘of’ you. Shots are taken ‘at’ me. We are NOT the same, honey.”
“Listen here lady…
The sound of glass smashing downstairs made her freeze in her tracks, the much quieter sound of clinking confirming her suspicions. She immediately looked down to her phone, which had just buzzed with another text,
“Nothing to say, huh? Thought so.”
Her fingers worked faster than ever as she fired off a response.
“Someones in the house”
It took all of two seconds for the screen to update with just three words:
“Hide”
“Now”
“Omeww”
She was quick to jump out of the bathtub, grab her robe and slip it on, the soft, velvety material sticking slightly to her wet skin, much to her annoyance. She briefly considered confronting the intruder, but figured that Rachel would be better equipped to deal with whoever it was.
She grabbed the open bottle with her free hand, and bolted to her room, trying to move as quickly and quietly as possible. Her closet held a lot of clothes, and she knew it had the room to hide her as well - plus, push come to shove, she could possibly toss a jacket over the intruder’s head to disorient them before smacking them with the bottle.
Yanking the closet door in, she pressed her other hand to the smooth, polished wood before it made contact with the door frame, slowing it down and gently sliding it into place, giving it a light tug to make sure it closed properly. With that done, she sunk to the back of the closet, taking a small sip of the wine as she listened carefully.
Over the sounds of cars passing by outside, tires occasionally squealing against the pavement, engines roaring and sirens hunting them, she couldn’t hear much else. Her own breathing didn’t help, either. She wasn’t quite hyperventilating - in fact, she felt relatively under control.
More than anything, she was pissed, quiet huffs of annoyance mixed with soft panting from her short sprint. She spent all that time outside of the house, even today - why would they wait until she was home to break in? That just made no sense to her, at all. She had to be dealing with an idiot or an amateur - or both.
As the minutes passed, Vanessa calmed herself, her breathing evening out, though her mood didn’t change much. Anything important was insured, though it would still be a hassle to get them replaced. She’d had things stolen a few times, and it was a headache of calls, being put on hold and asking to speak to someone higher up as they tried to give her the standard run around.
Her eyes darted to the door as she noticed the handle turning steadily, and immediately flipped the bottle, grasping it by its neck, the remaining drink splattering softly against the carpet as it was unintentionally dumped out. She gripped it tightly, creeping closer, watching intently as the door slowly slid open…
“Vanessa Hall. What a pleasant surprise~” The masked woman said as she spotted the model, bottle in hand. The moment she’d slid open the door, she’d taken a step backwards, drawing a suppressed firearm and aiming it directly at Vanessa’s face.
Vanessa huffed softly as the intruder smartly stepped out of bottle swinging range - but she still waved it at them with a glare, her muscles tensing as she prepared to throw it. “Why the fuck are you in my house, asshole? You could have just picked the damn lock and saved me the headache of replacing the glass you broke, you know.”
"Why do you think, Hall?" The other woman said in a calm, cool tone, keeping the weapon trained at Vanessa. She took a moment to flick the safety off - the movement subtle, but clear, and made a slight motion towards the door frame. "Bottle on the floor, and out of the closet; now."
“Because you’re a talentless hack who has to resort to breaking and entering instead of getting a damn job?” Vanessa offered with a roll of her eyes. Despite her snarky tone, she complied with the intruder's demand, setting the bottle down and slowly stepping out of the closet, hands raised. She’d been around firearms enough that she’d grown relatively inured to them - but that didn’t mean she wanted to get shot.
"See you traded your brains for beauty." The masked intruder said, matching Vanessa's steps back, her grip on the weapon not once wavering. "I’m here because you rejected VDB’s offer - a rather generous one, I might add - even after our bosses paid quite the handsome sum to make it happen."
The moment those three letters escaped the trespasser’s lips, Vanessa’s eyebrow shot to the sky. “VDB, huh? So you really don’t have a life, do you? I only turned them down, like, fifteen minutes ago. God, I almost feel sorry for you, having to wait around to take orders from other people. So what, you’re here to force me to go ahead with the transfer?”
“That ship sailed fifteen minutes ago. Now, since you refuse to play ball, costing our bosses a lot of money, they’ve given me the green-light to eliminate you.”
“Go ahead then, I don’t grovel, nor do I beg. At least I’ll be remembered without wrinkles. Whoever your bosses are will be remembered as whatever shriveled, senile old bats they age into.” Vanessa scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. She actually felt a slight pang of fear now, unsure if they actually had the courage to pull that trigger; but she was going to call them on it anyways. Like hell she would play their game.
“Thanks for making my job easy for me.” The assassin said simply.
“Fuck. I’m so sorry, Rachel. Make this bastard suffer for me.” Vanessa thought as she squeezed her eyes shut, just as the assassin squeezed the trigger, both of them preparing for her death…
To Vanessa’s shock, she heard the shot ring out, followed by a piercing shriek. Her eyes shot open, just in time to catch the would-be assassin collapsing, clutching at the bloody stump where her arm once was - now lying a few inches away from her feet.
Her gaze shot up to the other attacker - an absolute wall of a woman, clutching a machete. Shoulder length, messy white hair, built like a powerlifter beneath her cropped white jacket, white jeans and white combat boots… and ghostly white skin, marred by blood, and countless scars, some small, relatively faded, others much larger, which no amount of time could truly ever heal, and one massive one, right in her side.
Most importantly, however, was that mask. That unnerving white mask, no doubt hiding more scars, more secrets and stories. Two eyes, one with a long, vertical scar, the other with three stitches were on top, outlined with pale yellow eyeshadow, matched by a round, red nose, a permanent red-lipped smile painted on, almost like a clown… only, this situation was the farthest thing from funny.
Vanessa watched as the masked woman leaned down towards the failed assassin, who was sobbing loudly in agony, and aimed one more swing of the blade right towards the spot where their neck met their skull. With a sickening crunch, they almost instantly stopped moving, the blow serving to quiet their cries and ease the tension in their stiff muscles. With the target eliminated, the muscular woman rose back to her feet, towering over Vanessa. Her mask tilted down towards her, and though her eyes were hidden, Vanessa could feel the piercing gaze right through it.
“C1 or C2… which do you think I hit?”
“You’re not Rachel - who the fuck are you?!” Vanessa’s brow furrowed as she snapped in reply. Though she was grateful for the rescue, she was also quite irritated that anybody else had left a body on her floor.
A soft, melodic giggle emanated from underneath the mask… almost as if she found this whole situation entertaining, like a game to her, rather than a potentially lethal situation. “Just call me Deimos. I’m not your enemy, Vanessa Hall. Quite the opposite, in fact. We’re on the same team.”
That was just confusing. Same team? What the hell did she mean by that? She was getting more and more irritated with each passing second, the body on the floor being forgotten in the wake of the strange woman in front of her. “Will you stop speaking in codes?! What the fuck do you mean same t-”
“The Raven.”
Those two words stopped her dead in her tracks. What the hell did her agency have to do with this? As a matter of fact - how did she know her name? “...The Raven? What do they have to do with- what the hell are you talking about?”
Another chuckle radiated from beneath the woman’s mask as she gave the machete a little twirl, sending a few flecks of blood flying. “You’ll figure it out in time. I had to, and now it’s your turn. Though, you’re getting a much better chance than I did… Only after I was attacked and… disfigured, forced to wear this mask, did somebody walk in and find me.” Their gaze drifted down towards where the weapon lay fallen on the floor, and they kneeled down. After a moment, she picked it up, looking back towards Vanessa. “To this day, I can hardly bear to look at my face… remembering what I once was. A fate I would wish upon my worst enemy… which you are not.”
The model eyed the weapon warily as the stranger extended her hand, offering it to her. Hesitantly, Vanessa took the sidearm, her soft fingers gingerly wrapping around the high strength polymer handle.
The weight of the pistol felt immense in her hands…
How many souls were laid to rest with this handgun?
How many more lives would it claim in her possession?
“...but why?” She asked, looking back up towards the mask.
The mask didn't move an inch, though she could practically feel the grin that spread behind it. “This machete…” The stranger said, running a finger over the flat edge of the blade, flicking a small line of blood off of it. ”I pried it from the hands of the bitch who attacked me with it a couple years ago, while she bled out on the floor. Carried it ever since.”
Vanessa glanced back down at the Glock, then to the corpse of her would-be killer. “So…now I'm supposed to carry this, huh?”
Her response was a single nod. “My time is past, but you still have a career to protect. And hey, perhaps you can pay this forward one day. Isolated incidents aren't a thing around here. You and me, we’re nothing but trading cards, collectors items to these people. We have to be flawless, just for them to show off and trade at leisure, and if we refuse… well, they don’t take such disobedience lightly.” She said, her masked gaze unblinking. Flipping the machete, the woman grabbed it over the flat edge and ran her hand down it, flicking off as much blood as she could, before slipping it into its sheath, turning away. “Don't be surprised if someone is shocked to see you turn up tomorrow. Keep your head on a swivel, keep your guard close and your weapon closer, and above all…”
“Pay attention.”
Vanessa watched as she disappeared back into the nighttime shadows of the house, humming a soft, almost haunting melody that echoed long after she was gone. She sighed heavily, their conversation replaying in her mind. She turned the masked woman's words over, flipped them upside down, inside out…
Head on a swivel.
Guard close, weapon closer.
Pay attention.
And not to be surprised if someone was shocked when she showed up.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the bedroom door bursting open. A smaller, more slender figure ran inside, donning a matte black helmet, a black stealth jacket, black jeans and black high heeled boots, effectively obscuring her identity, carbine rifle in hand. Though she didn't recognize either of the first two figures who’d barged in uninvited, this one she instantly knew despite the stealthy getup, considering…
“Get the fuck away from-!” Rachel shouted, finger on the trigger. She looked around, quickly surveying the scene, spotting two bodies - though only one of them was breathing. Once she ascertained Vanessa was still alive and in no immediate danger, she lowered her weapon, staring at the body for a moment, before looking back to Vanessa. “Damn, girl - how the hell did you do this?” She asked, sounding almost impressed.
“I didn’t - some weirdo beat you to the punch and chopped her up. She did leave the body for you, though.” Vanessa said with a sigh, raking her hand through her hair in a mixture of irritation and a hint of relief. “One night of relaxation… too much to ask for, apparently.”
“Blame the cops, they insisted on harassing me tonight just ‘cause I ran a light or two and wiped out some lampposts on my way.” She said in response as she knelt down by the body, inspecting the damage. “Assholes made it into a big thing, didn’t let up until some chick with a heavy Russian accent told ‘em to fuck off over the radio. Think she was the chief?” Rachel thought for a moment, nudging the severed arm with the barrel of her rifle. “...At any rate, she must’ve had some power, they dropped off quick when she got on the horn- huh?” Finally, she stood back up, and noticed the gun in Vanessa’s hands. She reached out towards it, Vanessa wordlessly handing it over. “Glock 45, 9 millimeter, with a Banish 45 suppressor, 6.7 inches... Where the hell did you get this?” Rachel asked, looking over the handgun.
Vanessa just motioned to the corpse as Rachel handed the pistol back, setting the weapon on top of the end table next to the closet door. “That one down there was ready to end me with this thing, before that other lady showed up. Cut her down, picked this up and passed it to me. I guess… I guess it’s mine now?”
“Oh yeah? We’ll have to hit the range sometime then, I’ll show you how to use it.” Rachel chuckled. She leaned her rifle against the wall, taking a moment to dust off her jacket and take off her helmet. “Not as easy as ‘point and click’, yanno. I know I make it look easy, but shit, I been standing behind a trigger for years. My nerves are beyond used to it.”
Vanessa stared for a moment as the helmet came off, her eyes fixed on Rachel’s face. She couldn’t help but appreciate that black braided mohawk of hers, the color ever changing - it was bright red with yellow highlights just yesterday - those bright green, catlike eyes, and that spider tattoo on her left cheek. Reliable, for the most part, and not bad to look at either. “That would be nice. But we can discuss that more after you handle the mess.” She said with a slight smile, motioning towards the remains as she returned into the closet, picking up the mostly empty bottle.
“What am I, your maid?” Rachel replied with a laugh. She didn’t complain, though, bending down to pick up the body, slinging it over her shoulder. The blood that got onto her outfit didn’t faze her as she picked up the severed arm, hauling it through the dark house and back outside. She dropped the body with a wet thud on the concrete as she arrived at her SUV, popping open the trunk and depositing both inside. That would be a problem for tomorrow her to deal with. Shutting the trunk, she walked back inside, finding Vanessa sitting on the couch, clutching another, presumably full… or at least, mostly full bottle of wine. “You alright?”
“Fine. Just need to get a window or two replaced… more of a headache than anything.” Vanessa gave off a small wave of dismissal as she set the bottle down. She’s not dead, nor injured, so she wasn’t too concerned. Just confused. That woman… something was off about her.
“Staring down death, and yet you’re worried about the window.” Rachel chuckled as she leaned against the table across from where Vanessa sat. This wasn’t even new, and yet it was always mildly entertaining to see. “How long til’ the cop
