❝..are they always this warm?❞ sleepy Laios grabs your titties!
⸻ Laios waking up quite early in the morning was no rare thing. in fact, he’d often wake up with you in his arms—but this time, his side felt oddly empty. did you already get up?
turning his head to the side, he sees your silhouette. you’re a bit far but he’s certain he can reach you. Laios then sat up, letting the blanket fold down to his lap, before stretching his arms around you. in a second, he’s got you imprisoned in his warm embrace, face nuzzled into your neck.
he was tired, there’s no denying that, but you usually woke up after marcille and the others, so it sorta worried him.
laios listened to your soft yawn, tilting his head softly. you sounded so sleepy, so adorable. You were the only person who never found the things he said or did to be strange or off-putting, and he really, really appreciated you for that.
his hands, big and warm slid under your shirt, splaying across the soft swell of your stomach before going further up and cupping your soft mounds, kneading them from time to time. wow, they actually were a great source of warming.. he mused silently.
“..are they always this warm?” laios asked quietly, a hint of wonder audible in his voice as he gave a gentle tilt of his head, a soft and sincere expression gracing his features.
you know laios is pretty dense and blunt most of the times but sometimes.. it felt like he knew exactly what he was doing to you. he definitely wasn’t the type to tease, that’s for sure, but he wants to know if touching you like this is okay.
hiii friendss! i'm back from hiatus with a new hyperfixation, creative inspiration, and some new gachiakuta bots for you all to enjoy! i've been so down bad (for tamsy and jabber specifically) that i've pumped so many bots/ideas out for them, it's insane. however, i finally got around to polishing these bots up and publishing them!
here are my newest j.ai additions for you all to enjoy featuring: tamsy caines (x2), enjin, and jabber wonger (x2). ♡
(MAJOR SPOILER WARNINGS IN TAMSY'S BOTS. DO NOT PROCEED WITHOUT BEING UP TO DATE/PAST CH. 92+ IN THE MANGA.)
DIRECT LINK TO BOTS/J.AI BENEATH CUT!
𓆩♱𓆪 j.ai user: boovampiie.
⛧ cockwarming w/ tams!
⛧ getting high w/ jabs at the "beach!"
⛧ getting high w/ enjin after a mission!
⛧ tamsy kidnaps you. (DDDNE WARNING)
⛧ big bossman sent jabber to retrieve the cleaner's other sphereite.
⦻ Characters: Eyeless Jack x User (Reader), Ticci Toby, Jeff The Killer, Slenderman, Masky.
- User/Reader [you] is fem!pov, User/Reader [you] is 18+
⦻ Warning: STABBING, GRAPHIC INJURY, BLOOD, WOUND CARE DETAIL, SCARRING, JEALOUSY, SELF-HATRED, MONSTER/HUMAN CONTRAST, POWER IMBALANCE, AGE GAP VIBES (implied), INTIMATE/STRADDLING SCENES, FLIRTING, POSSESSIVE BEHAVIOR, CAUGHT IN COMPROMISING POSITION.
⦻ Words: 1.7k
⦻ Note: I had this idea cause I wanted to test out a persona for this and like best decision I've made and im not gatekeeping my crazy weird ideas or that wouldn't be me. I really imagine this 6ft eldritch man cuddling a small user, yall see the vision (pls do) cause that's cute. Imagine him trying his best not to squeeze user's guts out while grabbing their waist. I cant- He's such a big cutie. Madoka was inspired if you couldn't tell from the fem description in the first scenario. I love magical girls!
⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧
The forest edge always smelled like wet pine and copper after a hunt, but that night it carried something sweeter—vanilla body spray and strawberry lip gloss cutting through the rot like a knife through cake.
Slender had never recruited anyone like you before.
You stepped out of the black van in a cloud of pastel: soft pink babydoll dress with white lace trim, thigh-high socks striped in baby blue and cream, platform Mary Janes that clicked against gravel like tiny bells. A oversized bow sat crooked in your hair, ribbons trailing down your back. Mascara smudged just enough to look artfully fragile. You looked like you belonged in a Sanrio café, not standing in front of a faceless entity that collected killers like trading cards.
The proxies stared.
Masky muttered something about “this has to be a joke.” Hoodie just tilted his head, camera lens reflecting your glitter-dusted cheeks. Toby’s shoulders twitched so hard his goggles nearly fell off.
Slender simply extended one long, too-long arm and pressed a single tendril to your forehead. You didn’t flinch. You smiled—small, sweet, deadly—and said in a voice like spun sugar, “I can make them come to me. They never see it coming.”
And you did.
You were perfect bait.
Men (and women) followed the soft click of your shoes down dark alleys, the flutter of lace, the way you’d turn and blink up at them with wide, innocent eyes and ask for directions in a whisper. They never noticed the way your manicured nails hid switchblades, or how your pout hid teeth. By the time they realized, it was too late—you’d already lured them straight to the others.
Jack hated you at first sight.
Not because you were weak. Because you weren’t.
He watched from the treeline the night you dragged in your first solo catch: a frat boy twice your size, grinning like he’d won the lottery, until you spun on your heel, skirt flaring, and buried a glitter-pink butterfly knife in his throat. Blood sprayed across your white stockings. You didn’t even blink—just wiped the blade on his shirt, adjusted your bow, and waved cheerfully at the shadows where Jack stood frozen.
You were everything he wasn’t: soft, delicate, untouched by scars. Your skin looked like porcelain under moonlight. Your body—small, curved, fragile-looking beneath layers of tulle and cotton—made his own feel monstrous by comparison: tar leaking from empty sockets, gray skin stretched too tight over sharp bones, claws that tore through everything they touched.
So he ignored you.
Completely.
Until the night it went wrong.
The target snapped—manic, high, cornered. Instead of following your swaying hips like the others, he lunged. The knife went in low and deep, right through the baby-pink babydoll dress, splitting lace and flesh in one wet motion. You gasped—high, startled, almost childish—before your knees buckled.
You hit the pavement in a puddle of tulle and crimson.
Jack was there before anyone else could move.
He shoved Toby aside mid-sentence, pushed Jeff back with a snarl that rattled the trees, and scooped you up like you weighed nothing. Your blood soaked into his black hoodie immediately, staining the tar-like residue that clung to him. Your head lolled against his shoulder; ribbons tangled in his fingers.
In the medbay he tore the ruined dress away with clinical precision, exposing the soft, pale stomach now marred by a vicious red slit. You whimpered—soft, broken sounds that made something ugly twist in his chest.
He’d wished worse on you. Silently. Jealously. Wished the world would mark you the way it had marked him so you’d stop looking so… clean.
Now the wound was going to scar. A thin, ugly line forever cutting through all that pastel perfection.
“I’m sorry,” He rasped—voice like gravel dragged over broken glass—as he stitched. You were barely conscious, lashes fluttering, but you still reached up with trembling fingers and brushed the edge of his mask.
“S’okay… Jackie,” You mumbled, voice syrup-slow. “You’re not a monster.”
He froze. Needle hovering.
No one had ever called him that. Not without mockery.
Over the next week the wound kept weeping—random, stubborn bursts of blood that soaked through bandages faster than they should. Slender ordered bed rest. You stayed in the medbay, small and out of place among steel trays and blood bags, surrounded by pastel plushies you’d dragged in from your room to “make it less scary.”
Jack never left.
He told himself it was duty. Monitoring vitals. Changing dressings.
But he started lingering.
Bringing you strawberry milk in glass bottles with paper straws. Sitting closer each day until the cot dipped under his weight. One afternoon you were too weak to sit up alone; he slid behind you without asking, pulled your back to his chest, arms caging your waist. Your frilled skirt rode up your thighs. Lace against black denim. Soft against hard.
You squirmed—half ticklish, half flustered—cheeks going candy-pink.
“Jaaack,” You whined, voice high and sweet. “You’re so warm. Like a big mean heater.”
He huffed—a sound dangerously close to a laugh—and tightened his hold just enough to feel your heartbeat stutter against his ribs.
“You’re gonna ruin my reputation, doll.”
“Good,” You whispered, tipping your head back until your bow brushed his jaw. “I like ruining things.”
The flirting escalated in inches.
A brush of claws along your hip under the blanket. Your fingers tracing the seams of his mask. Him murmuring filthy promises against your ear while he pretended to check stitches. You straddling his lap one evening—ostensibly so he could re-bandage the wound from a better angle—your thighs bracketing his hips, hands braced on his shoulders, looking impossibly small and impossibly wrong perched on top of a cannibal demon who smelled like copper and pine.
He loved the contrast. Loved the way you looked like you’d break if he squeezed too hard… and the way you arched into his touch anyway.
They caught you on day nine.
Toby burst through the door first—goggles askew, twitching—Jeff right behind him, knife already half-drawn because they’d both been worried sick. You’d been the only one who ever asked how their days went. Who patched their hoodies with little embroidered hearts. Who didn’t flinch at their scars.
They froze.
You were straddling Jack’s lap on the medbay cot, skirt hiked to dangerous levels, arms looped around his neck. His clawed hands were locked around your waist, holding you flush against him. His head was tilted down, mask brushing your collarbone like he’d been about to kiss the bandage there.
And he was smiling.
A real one—sharp, stupid, unguarded—stretching across what little of his face showed beneath the sockets.
Toby’s mouth opened. Closed. Tick-tic-twitch.
Jeff blinked. Then snorted.
“Well… fuck me. Didn’t see that coming.”
Toby stared another beat—then backed out, yanking Jeff with him. The door clicked shut. Locked from the outside.
`Click.`
Inside, Jack didn’t even flinch.
He just looked down at you—his pretty doll still perched in his lap like she belonged there—and let the smile widen.
“Guess we’ve got the room to ourselves now,” He murmured, voice low and rough.
You giggled—soft, breathless—and leaned in until your gloss-sticky lips brushed the edge of his mask.
“Then don’t waste it, Jackie.”
His grip tightened.
And for once, the monster didn’t feel like one at all.
Thank you for reading!
If you want to interact with this scenario go to my janitor!
Billy is elbow-deep in a half-dead car, trying to resurrect something that has no business running anymore, when the brittle silence of the garage shatters under a frantic phone call.
Drunken sobs—Susan’s voice, but cracked and dimmed—spill out, muttering about Max. The trailer park. A coma.
Billy throws himself behind the wheel of his father’s long-stolen Ford LTD Crown Victoria and floors it, devouring the miles between California and Indiana.
And now he’s here, lost in every imaginable way, carrying the scars—skin-deep and soul-deep—left behind by Starcourt. He sits at Max’s bedside like the world’s most loyal, broken hound.
heyyy! would you do a travis bot? honestly I don't know what type of scenario it could be, but anything kind that isn't angst would be fine lol. I don't know if I would have to specify if you could do it gender neutral for the user it would be great. good luck watching the new episodes! 😭
Travis Martinez Bot (Link at bottom)
AN: I actually loved writing this one, got to sprinkle in the kinda person I though Travis was before the crash
The afternoon sunlight streamed through the canopy, dappling the forest floor in shifting patches of gold and shadow. The lake stretched out before them, the surface rippling as a light breeze skimmed across it. The air was crisp but not cold, carrying the scent of damp earth and pine. Somewhere in the distance, a bird called out, its song lonely but peaceful. It was one of the few times lately that the woods felt quiet—no bickering, no whispered worries about food, no weight pressing down on his chest. Just stillness.
Travis sat with his back against the rough bark of a tree, his shoulders slumped in a way that only happened when he let himself relax. His boots were caked in dried mud, his shorts torn at the hem from weeks of wear, and as he spoke, he absently picked at a loose thread between his fingers. It was a nervous habit, one he barely noticed.
"I used to be such a dork before all this," he said, his voice low, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to say it aloud. He rubbed the back of his neck, his fingers dragging through the mess of his unwashed hair.
He glanced over, expecting you to laugh, maybe make a joke, but instead, you just gave him a teasing grin, the kind that made his stomach do something weird. "A dork? You?" There was no malice in it, no judgment—just curiosity.
Travis scoffed, shaking his head. "Yeah, I know. Hard to imagine, right?" He let out a breath, his hand falling back into his lap. "I wasn’t, like, a total loser or anything. But… I spent a lot of time on stuff that most people probably thought was stupid."
You tilted your head, watching him closely. "Like what?"
He hesitated, his fingers still tugging at the loose thread on his shorts. He could just brush it off. Change the subject. But the air between you both felt different today—calmer, softer.
"I wanted to be a carpenter," he admitted finally, a self-conscious grin flickering across his face. He kept his eyes on the lake as he spoke, like looking at you might make it harder. "I thought I’d make things with my hands—build stuff. Furniture, little wooden animals… that kind of thing."
For a moment, there was only the sound of the wind rustling through the trees. He braced himself for teasing, maybe a snide comment about how different that was from the guy he was now. But when he finally glanced your way, you were just looking at him, expression thoughtful.
"You made wooden animals?" you asked, and he could hear the amusement in your voice.
Travis exhaled through his nose, shaking his head at himself. His face felt a little hot, which was ridiculous. "Yeah. Well, I didn’t have much of a choice when Javi kept bugging me every time I picked up my tools. He thought it was the coolest thing ever, so I’d end up making him these little stupid things—bears, rabbits, whatever he wanted."
You smiled, and something about it made his chest ache in a way he wasn’t used to. "That’s actually kind of sweet," you murmured. "I bet he loved them."
Travis swallowed, his fingers stilling against the hem of his shorts. "He did. I think." His voice was quieter now, more careful. His mouth twitched, something close to a smile forming before it faltered. "Even after everything, I bet he’d find a way to keep them in his pocket or something."
He looked down, tracing a line in the dirt with the toe of his boot. It was stupid, but for a second, he could almost picture Javi—his wide-eyed excitement, the way he used to watch Travis carve like it was magic. He wondered if Javi still had any of them. If they had survived out here with him.
The silence stretched between you both, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind that didn’t need filling, the kind that let you just exist together for a little while. The lake shimmered in the sunlight, the wind shifting through the leaves, and for a moment, it almost felt like the world hadn’t fallen apart.
After a while, Travis let out a breath, barely more than a whisper. "Wish things were different, you know?" He didn’t look at you this time. "Wish we were back there, doing... normal stuff. Building crap with my hands and annoying the hell out of Javi."
There was nothing dramatic about the way he said it—no crack in his voice, no big confession. Just a quiet, simple truth.
ok wait guys i’m gonna spread my “woke propaganda” for a second but
BLEEEEEE PLEASE READ!! IMPORTANT MESSAGE BLOEAUAUUUU
do i have your attention? i hope i do, because generative AI is killing our environment and i want to talk about it as well as encourage you to do your own research as well.
yes, my family and friends are fine. you + your family and friends may also be fine right now, but there are many people of whom are going without power and immediate water. tons of people are having to stock up on gallon jugs just to take baths or have a drink.
all because of AI and its effects on the environment.
the machines used to support things like ChatGPT, C.AI, image/video generators, heat up to dangerously warm temperatures— which means that the warehouses they’re in have to be placed locations that have lots of power/energy to run fans, or places with lots of water to pour over the machines.
the amount of power needed to train AI models also demands high quantities of electricity that emit carbon dioxide and pressure on the electric grid.
i’m going to focus mostly on AI chatbots, as that is where most of my knowledge lays.
a whole bottle to a gallon jug of water is used to generate just one message from an AI chatbot.
i’ve seen bots averaging thousands or millions of chats with, as far as i know, hundreds or more messages just in one conversation.
that’s hundreds, thousands, millions of gallons of water a day. imagine the sheer impact that will have on the earth and future generations if we let it continue.
here are some references/articles about this, i heavily encourage you to read them and find more yourself.
MIT News explores the environmental and sustainability implications of generative AI technologies and applications.
The training process for a single AI model, such as an LLM, can consume thousands of megawatt hours of electricity and emit hundreds of tons
i understand if you have an addiction to AI, i’ve been there before myself.
if you use AI to roleplay, i recommend substituting it with - roleplay servers on discord, roleplay forums on places like toyhouse or spacehey, or even roleplay games on roblox
if you use AI to vent, i recommend substituting it with - asking close friends or family or partners if you can talk, messaging/calling a help hotline, journaling your feelings, or drawing if you can/like to.
if you use image generation to make art or animation, i highly recommend taking online or even in person lessons on art. there are so many ways to be creative and make something meaningful or random/silly. there’s all sorts of tutorials online, and you can always ask people for help with tips. you can draw or animate digitally, do traditional art, use clay and make models, you could even use recyclable items to make a sculpture or craft.
yes, your art will be bad at first. it might be very shitty, it might be that way for a long while— but the longer you do it the better you will get. as time goes on you’ll be more and more confident in doing things without AI, no matter what it is you’re deciding not to use AI for.
your dependency on AI and it’s tools doesn’t have to be forever. it doesn’t have to be that far into the future. i promise you, there are much better options than AI. you can absolutely go without it.
extra solution for both using chat bots for roleplay and venting, you can write fanfics. it’s not at all uncommon to use fiction to cope or pass time, just as long as the process doesn’t involve AI. using things like picrew, gacha life, or any dress up games, are also just as good.
for art you could also commission artists if you have money, which would also support someone else as well as get you what you want.
