Eyyy new intro post for 2026 let's go!
Hey everyone, I'm Gadget or Tictac :D
I'm 21 years old, aroace, and go by any pronouns
(feel free to vibe check my pronouns and just go with whatever haha)
I'm an artist and writer in my free time as well as a double marine biology and enviromental studies major in college, so feel free to ask me about fish or other science topics >:)
I have two main worlds I'm working in currently with my OCs
Lifetime Achievement Award - A story mostly revolving around a chaotic necromancer "supervillian" with a lot of trauma and the grump police detective he forcefully befriends :D
It's an urban fantasy world with some magic and also a whole science and history around the presence of animal people, and it's my beloved <3
Beyond those two there are also lots of other characters who exist in the same world I'm developing
The second world is a project with a friend, currently only known as the Horrorverse!
It's a world that's a mashup for the 80s and early 2000s where horror movie tropes are real :D
It contains lots of characters and different plots, including pizza delivery monster slaying siblings, gritty homicide detectives, and mad scientist lesbians
Overall, my favorite tropes and interests are
Detectives
Mad Scientists
Non Human Characters
Speculative biology
Frankenstien <3 (and some other gothic lit)
Platonic relationship dynamics
Hopefully I cam keep this blog a little more alive!
Most painful part of writing my story is that honestly I think the best format for it would be an animated show but I do not have the time nor skill nor money to do that so
To trying to write an actual outline I go!
Gotta write chapters rather than 30 minute episodes haha :’)
Your one stop for everything Lifetime Achievement Award related :D
Lifetime Achievement Award is an urban fantasy story mostly revolving around the friendship between Strychnine, a silly "supervillian" with a dark past, and Ambrose, the police detective he forces into being his "rival"
It's a superhero story in a world without superheros, relating to platonic relationships, trauma and coping mechanisms, morality and identity, and also just my favorite tropes and silly little dudes
(#Lifetime Achievement Award (Story))
(#LAA Worldbuilding)
Chronological Story
Chapter 1: Stakeout - Coming soon!
Chapter 2: Heroes and Villains - Coming soon!
Oneshots
Mother Stands for Comfort (Strychnine backstory)
The Characters! (#my ocs)
(refs coming soon!)
#ratpoison(OCs)
Strychnine - A silly necromancer and self proclaimed supervillian
(#strychnine(OC))
Ambrose - Strychnine's "best friend", a tired rat man police detective who honestly just needs a nap
(#Ambrose(OC))
#charlock(OCs)
Hemlock - A disgraced doctor who now works in the medical underworld, has had to patch up Ambrose begrudingly on more than one occassion
Gay marriage does make him better though later
(#Hemlock(OC))
Charlie - A dogboy nurse owned by a friend of mine, the most golden hearted good boy out there! And also Hemlock's future husband
(#Charlie(LAA))
#wolfinsheepsclothing(OCs)
Beau - An adorable sheep man who runs a cute little gardening shop out in the suburbs and totally has never eaten anybody ever with his kind of scary housewife
(#Beau(OC)) (CW: Posts relating to cannibalism and religious trauma could potentially go here)
Reina - Beau's wife and a serial killer of her own :D Pretty wolf woman who likes to stalk the woods around their subburbs and fuck with Ambrose! Owned by a friend of mine :D
(#Reina(LAA))
Gonna try and actually revive and use this account again :D
I think switching it from purely whump to whump and art and other stuff :D
Gonna make a new intro soon
when the objectively bad person has traumatic and honestly reasonable reasons for why theyre like that but it doesnt excuse their actions and only serves to make them more tragic as a character
to anyone in the areas impacted by the wildfire smoke, my #1 biggest piece of advice as someone whos been dealing with wildfire smoke in the NW united states for years, is build yourself a Corsi-Rosenthal Cube
they perform as well as expensive HEPA air cleaners, and are comparatively VERY inexpensive. all you need is a box fan, 4 air filters, a piece of cardboard, and some duct tape!!!!
i think it took us maybe a half hour to put ours together, if that, and we replace the filters every 3 months. it's really made a HUGE difference, both when the air quality is bad, but also with our allergies
every time October rolls around, I have to go into every Halloween store I see even if I don't buy anything, because seeing the fake blood and gore and guts and the cheap "sexy" costumes that are all just lingerie with cat ears and the cheesy low-quality animatronics and the knock off costumes based on classic horror characters that all have names like "murder ghost man" and "nightmare guy" is GOOD for me. that's my habitat that's where I'm supposed to be. I never really feel myself any other time of the year because I'm missing key elements of my ecosystem
Mother Stands for Comfort - Lifetime Achievement Award Oneshot #1
As part of my effort to uh, actually post here again, there’s that Strychnine backstory piece I said I was writing forever ago! Finally finished it :D
Go little lab boy go
Content Warnings: Minor whump, lab whump, verbal and mental abuse child abuse, dehumanization gore, implied character death
Story under the cut!
She hadn’t run a test all day. #07 kept expecting it, for her to ask him to climb back onto the exam table, to ask him to stretch out his arms for more shots or lay down so she could cut back open his still healing vivisection scars, take another look at the black goo that filled him where organs should have been- but she didn’t. The closest thing she’d done was ask him to pull off his thin hospital shirt for a moment so she could change the bandages wrapped around his torso. Beyond that she’d… left him alone. He wasn’t used to it, but it was nice.
She’d stayed elsewhere in the lab all day, back turned to him as she cleaned tools and mixed chemicals, only stopping once to get him lunch without speaking to him at all.
It was almost peaceful.
#07 didn’t have the best track of time, but it was late by the time Belladonna finally came back to him, playing house with a couple random glass vials he’d found.
"Now #07, sweetie, I need to talk to you. You're merely a rough draft, you've served your purpose and it's time for us to move forward in my innovation. You've got a brilliant mind and an even better heart, and those parts would serve the project well, so I'm going to... repurpose you."
#07 gave his mother a confused look, his yellow eyes wide, "What does that mean Belladonna?"
"Now, don't be scared #07, you're merely a step on the road to perfection. While you're not the one, you will help me towards him. It will only hurt a little bit. Now go get ready, please, sweetie, go get yourself up on the exam table now."
"Okay Belladonna."
#07 turned and made his way towards the metal exam table, the straps on it used to hold him down countless times while he'd laid patiently as a scalpel drove through his chest or she poked him with syringes full of glowing substances that he'd have no way of knowing what they contained. He was always good. He was always perfect, why wasn't he perfect now? He stopped in front of the table, back still turned to her as he looked down at his gloves. He was a child, yes, but he wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t unaware. He’d put up with Belladonna’s procedures for years- his entire life, and it was finally starting to click. This wasn’t how a parent was supposed to treat their child. She’d talk about him sometimes, the one he was created to make up for, and she’d never treated him like this. He got to go to the park, see the sun and get ice cream, he got to read the books that Belladonna had only read to him once or twice whenever he wanted, he got a name.
“I- I don’t want to do that.”
“What did you say, #07? Get on the table.”
There was a threatening tone to her voice, one he was all too familiar with.
“You’re going to hurt me.”
“Not more than is needed. This is all just procedure-”
He cut her off, turning around to face her. His gloves were unbuckled.
“You’re gonna hurt me and I’m going to disappear.”
“Don’t be silly #07, it’s not like I can continue with you. You’re not my son. You’re broken. You are not human. So yes, you’ll go away, dear #07, but the next one may be the one to make it.”
“You hurt me-”
“#07, stop this! I don’t need your guilt trip, gods, maybe it was better that the previous ones couldn’t talk. Get on the table or I will force you onto it!”
#07 just gave her one more pleading look before he peeled the gloves off of his hands, black goo already running from his palms and sizzling as it hit the tiled floor. He ran at her, grabbing her left hand tightly in his own, feeling flesh peel away under his grasp. Dr. Belladonna screamed, trying to shake his grip as her own red blood mingled with the black acid running across her hands.
“YOU LITTLE MONSTER! I SHOULD HAVE SCRAPPED YOU THE FIRST DAY- WHEN YOU CAME OUT LIKE THIS!”
She attempted to toss him off again, but he kept his grip, feeling bone as his grip just tightened. She grabbed him at the hips, lifting him up quite aggressively and slamming the small boy down onto the metal table, making a desperate grab for the leather restraints that perfectly fit #07’s small size. He didn’t stop struggling from underneath her, crying as he desperately grabbed at the front of her labcoat.
She screamed again as a hand went straight through the fabric of her coat, searing directly into the flesh right near her collarbones. He kicked out wildly with both legs, causing Dr. Belladonna to recoil, #07 scrabbling to sit up and stare at Dr. Belladonna with wild eyes. He barely knew what he was doing, driven purely by panic and desperation and rage.
He launched himself at her, both mother and son hitting the hard marble floor as she tumbled backwards from his bodyweight. The noise when her head hit the floor was a horrible, dull thunk, but he could barely hear it over his own scream. He straddled her waist as he kept clawing at her, Dr Belladonna raising her arms to try and protect her face. Her struggles grew weaker as he continued, tears streaming down his face and breathing ragged until the rage subsided and the horror flooded back in.
He tried to stand, to back away from her, but he couldn’t, collapsing to the ground not far from her body and attempting to reign in his breathing.
He couldn't tell the difference between what was her blood and what was the acid dripping from his own hands. She just lay prone in a growing puddle of black, #07 himself kneeling on the slick ground, hands pressed to the cold tile floor. His hands, up to the wrist, were covered in a thin dark sheen, the same that coated his mother’s arm and saturated her lab coat as she lay there, unmoving. He couldn't tell if she was breathing.
"Belladonna?” No no, doctor, she’d be mad, she’d want him calling her doctor.
#07 crawled on his hands and knees, ignoring the wet squelching of the goo underneath him as he went to kneel beside her. Tears streamed down his face, dark as the acid that dripped from his hands as he raised a hand to gently brush a strand of her hair out of her face and touch her cheek in the foolish hope that it'd wake her up. Instead, the young boy recoiled as his hand went straight through flesh, more blood pooling around his fingers as her skin peeled away under his touch, skittering backwards in the puddle, smearing blood and gore across the floor as he did so.
"Doctor-" his sobs took away the rest of that sentence before he could even get it out. He pulled his knees towards his chest, curling into as small of a ball as possible as his hands still dripped, staining the knees of his shorts black. His hair fell across his face as his chest heaved with panicked breaths, he'd- he'd... his creator was lying there- he'd done it- she'd tried to. He was eight. He was eight years old and he could barely process what had happened. What he'd done. What she'd tried to do. #07 fell to his side, not caring about the slick floor under him or the way the gore splashed across his face and hair as he did so. He closed his eyes. He cried himself to sleep.
When #07 awoke, it was still dark. She still lay in the puddle. His hands still dripped an inky black as he spotted his discarded gloves a couple feet away, pushed aside by the scuffle. The boy got to his feet, slowly, as he grabbed the gloves and put them back on, securing every buckle, every latch and strap, just like Belladonna had done the day she put them on, telling him it was for his own safety. He was still covered in gore. He didn't need to look at himself to know that. He could feel the way it clung to his clothes, to his bare skin, the smell of bleach and burnt flesh overpowering all else. He didn’t know what to do. Where to go. He was a construct built to obey his creator and he had killed her.
There wasn’t anything for him to grab, anything to remember the place he’d spent the first 8 years of his life before he trudged towards the heavy metal door of the lab.
He had no clue how the door mechanisms worked, and while he was probably smart enough to figure them out, he was tired. He just- he wanted to be done.
#07 peeled one of his gloves off again, pressing his still bloody palm to the metal until it started to bubble away- the door creaking open once he’d demolished the lock.
The boy trudged through the door, nearly tripping and winding back up on his knees as soon as he stepped foot onto cold dirt. Real dirt, not cold marble tile, and there was a real sky, dark and cloudy but not shining through layers of reinforced skylight glass. Part of it made his heart- the only real part of him, ache. But it was beautiful.
