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wtfforged.bsky.social
nicky!
@wtfforged.bsky.social
1.4K followers 270 following 1.3K posts
he/him 🏳️‍⚧️ 20 💥 see tags/media for art 💥 #oc
⚠️rbs+posts suggestive/nudity/gore/spoilers
https://wtfforged.straw.page
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wtfforged.bsky.social
oh you had that user too!! i thought i was just overinterpreting it and it mightve just been a weird way to tag "favorites"/"bookmarks" or something... its such a strange way to go about it. the implication that theyre going to reupload everything is very uncomfortable
January 27, 2026 at 7:12 PM
Reposted by nicky!
landeg.world
Pages 5/51
A figure appears in the previously empty doorway behind Lake, his face is hidden from view. He has his arms crossed with a newspaper held in his left hand as he leans against the doorframe. Though he stands in repose, his long pin-straight dark hair billows behind him, as if recently in motion, revealing two moles at the nape of his neck. A streak of nothing follows the flow of his hair to cuts through his head, as if to imply the man is pulling himself together from nothing. “Lurking around isn’t going to make it happen any faster,” he says to Lake. Lake, unmoving from the chair, simply replies “I don’t know what else you expect me to do.” The man in the doorway pauses for a beat, still observing Lake from out of frame, before striding into the room and reemerging by Lake’s side with a matching armchair, lifting it with one hand as easily as if it were a plastic stool. The man sits himself down in the chair with authority, finally revealing his face to the viewer. He appears young, maybe younger than Lake, with white skin and red eyes. His face is narrow and refined with slightly sunken cheeks and a narrow upturned nose. His eyes are almond-shaped and heavy-lidded with emphasised lower middle lashes that give the illusion of elongating his pupils. He has more moles on his face - two at his brow, three on his cheek, and two on his chin - and a pointed bottom lip. He wears a pair of tailored gurkha trousers and a grandfather collar shirt with a couple of its top buttons undone. He joins Lake in where he has been gazing wordlessly at the girl. Without looking at the other man, Lake, hands clasped, says, “It’s been more than forty hours. What if I did it wrong?” The other man turns to Lake with an incredulous expression for a moment before turning back and dryly replying, “Aye… I suppose it’s possible her arm decided to up’n do that all on its own.” The longer-haired man looks at Lake evenly, depicted from behind. “Heard of a man once in Omaha who took a week to pop back up. Folks were proper mad at him, too, ‘cause they were halfway done digging him a grave. This is the last sleep the poor thing is ever going t’get. Don’t rush it. Gaun play one of your games or something.” The focus shifts to the back of Lake’s head. He does not move or respond. The other man gazes at him a while longer, face neutral, before raising his newspaper. “Alrigh’, suit y’self.” He takes a moment to inspect the front cover before flicking it open and starting to read. Eyebrows raised, as if an afterthought, he adds, “Doctor Dog is here, by the way.” Lake snaps upright in his armchair with bug eyes and a flat mouth, filling the gap between the man and his newspaper. Lake stomps out of the room yelling “Sorrel! Say something sooner!!” as the other man (Sorrel)’s eyes squint in a smile over the top of his paper. Lake races to the stairs, from atop which he spies another figure, a shorter plump woman with pale skin, short, wavy black hair, a small round nose, defined lips, and upturned red eyes. She is wearing cat-eye glasses and a sweatsuit and holding a device in her hands. “Ah! Dahlia!” Lake says, before turning into a swarm of bats so that he can fly over the stairs instead of running down them, re-emerging to loom over the woman. “Did I miss him!?” Dahlia replies, “Don’t swarm so close to me, Lake. No, you didn’t miss him, he’s still-” She is interrupted by Lake snatching the device from her hands, a small remote monitor with a security symbol on the back. He stares at its screen with wide eyes. “Rude,” Dahlia says, before continuing, “What’s he dropping off today, I wonder?”
January 27, 2026 at 6:17 PM