l00kingatthem00n
l00kingatthem00n
RAISE YOUR BAT!
103 posts
" let's knock 'em dead into the night! "
Don't wanna be here? Send us removal request.
l00kingatthem00n · 24 days ago
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i request for you to be KILLED with HAMMERS in the CATACOMBS. how about that HUH
who is this KID WHO IS THIS KID!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TCH.
hi gen :)
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l00kingatthem00n · 28 days ago
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I DID NOT REALIZE THERE WERE 205 OF YOU FOLLOWING ME. OH MY GOD!!! CONGRATULATIONS YAY!!! MILESTONES!!!
sorry this has got me by surprise, i actually don't know what to do LOL. thank you so much for enjoying and loving my fics!! especially sitting through the agonizing wait it takes for me to post them.
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l00kingatthem00n · 28 days ago
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ALRIGHT! SOLIDER MAFIALING X READER SLOPPY
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WHY SHOULD I LISTEN TO YOU ROSE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
yeah maybe when i feel like it idk
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l00kingatthem00n · 28 days ago
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hey man i hope I'm not interrupting your fanfic writing but if you alleviable could you write forsaken fanfic on bully survivors x killer reader
context killer reader is the most weakest out of all the killers they just some person with baseball bat.
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━━ TRAPPED IN YOU.
WARNING: canon-typical violence, depictions of gore – if there's anything i missed, please tell me!
also while i wrote this, it started leading less to romance, but you could probably still interpret it as such if you squint. this is more just genuine beef with taph than anything LOL
Oddly enough, what wasn't infuriating was being trapped in this other world of endless suffering, considering that you'd be involved in orchestrating some of it. No, what was infuriating was seeing that dammed demolitionist, Taph, amble about.
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MONSTERS LIKE YOU DON’T DESERVE SYMPATHY. Your sins are made an idol with each corpse that lies in your wake; an effigy tainted with your unforgivable consequences. The memory is as sharp in your mind as the barbed wires you’ve killed those miserable bastards with. Wrapped with bloody steel, you’ve remembered each distinct crack that resounded in your ears while the blunt of your bat came smashing in on their skulls. What once made a face, framed by soft contours and sharp edges, became a mess of gore. Bones, flesh and brains splattered into a mush of viscera. Something into nothing. When it was the first time, the first time you had to beat someone in, you swore it was for a good reason. Maybe you were scared. Maybe you were defending yourself. What reason for all this has long faded into obscurity, though, in favour of killing because it felt right. 
Still, you’re not exactly worthy of any sympathetic murderer; you're not a pitiable one either. Besides the idea that some poor souls will be in their coffins, some other poor souls have to make funeral arrangements sooner than usual. Don’t you think you’re deserving of some decency and respect? You’d consider yourself an upstanding citizen, after all. You’ve had cold showers to conserve the water used, along with how much you’d be paying for them. You’ve tried to recycle as much as you could, picking up littered wrappers and drinks to preserve the environment. You’ve been as kind as you can be to your neighbours, offering whatever help they need. And especially, you’ve been thoughtful and have judged with no pretenses at all. Therefore, your reaction to your apartment block being blown to smithereens by that demolitionist, Taph, was completely justifiable and understandable. 
Sure, you’ve tried to convince yourself that discarding some older memorabilia of your wrongdoings was beneficial. It helps lessen your chances of getting caught should there be any nosy individuals. It also makes your home smell less. That line of reasoning doesn’t exactly help when your home, among many other homes, is nothing but broken fragments and reeks of chemical explosions. You found temporary residence elsewhere, and the disruption in your routine was infuriating. When you protested to the administrators and officials for the expulsion of that demolitionist, only to be met with nothing, then you felt you were in the right to express your frustrations more macabrely. A few more beaten heads never were that much of a problem anyway. 
And sure, that line of reasoning brought you into some unpleasant circumstances. You had been so close to finding them for yourself. That demolitionist, that birdbrain, that awful thing that blew your apartment to about nothing. Your self-righteous fury didn’t exactly save you from what Taph had prepared out of paranoia, though. Curse your instincts. Dragging your bat against the pavement, the shrill sound resounding near where Taph lived had seemed to set him off. It wasn’t long before you heard the ring of sirens and knew you had to make your escape. To make the excruciatingly long story short, in your escapade from those officers, one of them had shot at you, and your head was nothing more than a smear on the sidewalk. You’ve made a deal with some sort of otherworldly apparition, who promised you eternity if you were to keep killing. It was merely asking you to just keep up with your routine. Just with a severe otherworldly adjustment while you do as you please. It’s not the worst thing.  This was fine with you. 
What wasn’t fine was that Taph was also here.
That ghost, Spectre– whatever it was calling itself ��was surely a funny one. Your blood was boiling at the sight of him, seeing them amble around with their stupid trip wires and setting their stupid trip mines around. You already deal with the aggressions from some of those survivors that the entity picks up from time to time. You hate having to spar with the Guest, you hate having to dodge sword slashes from that admin, you hate being stabbed by that cultist, and you especially hate being shot at by that gambler. Having that demolitionist is about the final nail in the coffin for your temperament. Then again, an eternity tormenting that poor thing is worth everything– even if your reasoning isn’t too sound to others. Again, besides the atrocities, doesn’t any sentient being deserve to be treated well? Of course, that’s why in this round, when you walk into the blast of another subspace, you’re about to consider pulling your own hair out from the frustration of being so mistreated.
“You bird-brain!” You grit out. “I’ll get you for that! You little brat–” 
Beneath the plastic of your mask, your body is not at all fond of the pungent chemical odour that seems to overwhelm all your senses. Darkness blots the edges of your vision while the pungent stench pervades your nose and lungs– It only makes your blood boil further, if that chemical substance wasn’t already doing it, because it’s likely that Taph is one of the only people who knows what is inside of that unholy creation. Speaking of the little shit, Taph ever so graciously offers you his attention, something that he has a scarcity of. Though you can’t exactly make their expression through the heavy shadows cast by their hood, you can assume they’re squinting at you strangely. Maybe it’s from disgust, or maybe it’s from annoyance. Whatever it is, you’re not concerned with specifics. You just need to give him a piece of your mind. It would’ve been a smooth, succinct motion. With your bat swinging against his ribs, a loud crack that would follow, and you eventually laughing at his misfortune. However, it’s you who has the misfortune of being thrown off by what he manages to sign as he runs from you.
“Go away! Ugly!” 
You can feel your eyelid twitch. Though it seems you’ve fallen for whatever scheme he has set up, your irritation causes you to hastily and predictably swing your bat down on him, which Taph easily side-steps. There’s an uncomfortable tension in your jaw as you stare at his retreating figure. Harshly, you suck the air between the gaps of your teeth before continuing after him. Ugly? Ugly. He is addressing you by his biased perception of your physical appearance, which is ironic considering that he is just some individual draped in loose robes with a couple of special toys. You’re sure that underneath the hood, he’d be looking like the ugly one. That mask you wear is to separate between the two lives you live; it’s a damn good reason, nor is it the most appalling piece of work either.
“Ugly? Are you kidding me?!” You bark at him. “I bet you’ve got the face only your mom would love!” 
“The same goes for you!”
While your hold is slippery from all the grime and blood, you continue to hold the handle of your bat and ready yourself for another attempt to attack him. An aggravated growl leaves your lips with his remark. Briefly, your steps slow their pace. With an instinctive flourish, you spin the bat in your hand. The loose chunks of flesh caught by the barbed wire wrapped around your weapon fly away. Then, as Taph continues to run away from you, you throw the bat with all your might. Of course, it hits him perfectly in the back. Sharp steel tears away at his fine cloak, and you absolutely revel in the muffled groan that’s ripped from his throat. All the better is that the hit has him falling over as he drops to his hands and knees. 
Nothing is more pleasurable to you than seeing him miserable, that’s for sure. There’s a vivaciousness in your stride over to him. You take the bat into your hands, the familiar comforting weight felt once more. Beneath you, you can hear Taph raggedly breathing to accustom himself to the pain. Though that mask of yours obscures the toothy grin you’re wearing, you’re sure they could probably sense it. On your heels, you squat down to Taph’s hunched-over figure with a wolfish whistle. You pat his shoulder, a little roughly and a little firmly. In an exaggeratedly honeyed drawl, you tell Taph:
“Poor you, bird-brains!” You clasp your hands together. “You’re all alone with me. Isn’t that exciting?”
By using the support of your bat, you pull yourself up from the ground and whirl it around your wrist. Your worn handle glides along the joint with practiced ease. Then, harshly, you slam the blunt edge of the weapon right close enough in the space between their head and shoulder. Wrapped barbed wire is just enough to skim and tear into not just the cloth, but also the skin. 
“I wonder if anyone will come to help you…Oh, but it beats me,” You snicker. “Who would want to help someone like you?”
Before you can say anything else, Taph interjects. 
“You talk too much.”
His words are such an irritating, gnashing noise upon your ears, and the intention of them brings you a similar ire. Again, you feel your eye twitch before you tilt your head to the side a little to observe whatever expression he could be having beneath his hood.
“And you talk too little,” You hum. “I thought you’d want to talk with a long-time acquaintance, considering our history.” 
“...The house? You still have it against me for that?” 
With a disgruntled click of your tongue, you abruptly drop one knee and dig the weight into his ribs. Of course, their stifled cries ring throughout your ears. An almost pleasant melody that you would savour if they weren’t clawing at your legs. Despite the scratches that will find themselves engraved in your flesh, your gasp feigns surprise and hurt. 
“Ouch! But, don’t you think I deserve to, Taph? It was my only home after all.”
To further emphasize your point, you drive your knee further into his chest.
“ It’s not fair that you get to keep yours.” 
Surprisingly, it seems your words have struck deeply into that skull of his. Though he’s still persistently clawing at your legs, trying to pry you off of him, it’s more of a pathetic and weak attempt than anything. You wonder about whatever he’s mulling over in his mind. But, you hope that it’s those uncomfortable thoughts of what he’s done to you; the lingering regrets, the clawing dread, and the sinking guilt. It’s such a shame that you have the courtesy not to try and pull that hood off and see what look that’s found itself on their features – though you would enjoy what a fearful disposition he has. Nevertheless, you raise your bat upwards and let out a pleased sigh. 
“Well, I’m sure we’ll always be able to talk more! See you next ti–” 
You’re not given the chance to finish your sentence. What was about to be you splattering his head across the ground, securing your kill, subsequently involved a sharp slash across the expanse of your spine. The barbed bat slips from your grasp, clattering by Taph’s side while you writhe and scream from the pain. With a sickeningly loud crunch from your joints, you snap your head towards the perpetrator and are briefly met with Shedletsky’s visage. He’s already becoming an indistinct blur as he rushes to the other’s side. Wordlessly, Shedletsky drags Taph by the hand and hauls him off his back. 
And there he goes again, silhouette retreating before Shedletsky’s to escape from you. Courtesy of this realm’s strange rules, you can only helplessly watch the two of them make some thorough distance from you. But the two of them must think they can get away unscathed; they must believe themselves too assured in their skills. That swordfighter will miss eventually, and Taph will be useless when you strip away his measly defences. You’re going to get them. You’re going to get him. You always will. Such a struggle for survival will ultimately be useless as long as you see fit.
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AUTHOR'S NOTE: hi!! i hope everyone has been doing well and has been taking care!! sorry for taking so long to post anything!! even though school is over, i ended up just procrastinating and struggling a lot with my writing for a little bit x(
and sorry again for this not reading as too romantic! no offense at all, i found the request a little vague too work with so i just followed with whatever my gut said to write. but feel free to request once more if this isn't to your tastes and you have something more particular!
on a lighter note, i actually loved writing the reader. LOOK they are not a great person, and i obviously dont condone them, but it was so interesting trying to put together a sort of "mindset" or whatever.
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l00kingatthem00n · 1 month ago
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✦ close to you
Its a hot summer night, You have trouble falling asleep. Someone you no more than tolerate decides to pay you an unexpected visit.
WARNINGS: Suggestive/Mild sexual content.
I will never write full on smut so theres no sex, But it's still suggestive at some parts. you've been warned. this fic was also posted on ao3
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It's so late. The faint hum of your alarm clock mixes with the sound of your ac, the dark of your room just barely lit up by the moon through your window. You stare blankly at the time, watching the minute pass. 2:34 am. Sleep refuses to meet your body, despite how desperately you wish it would.
You hug your pillow to your chest, seeking some sort of comfort to bring you some rest. It's not a person, but it'll do. There's a quiet, quick tapping at your window. Just wind, probably, until it gets a little louder and more deliberate. Curious, you raise your eyes to the window, startling a little at the sight of a familiar face. Noli.
"Jesus— Okay man." You huff, getting out of bed to speak to the hacker who, luckily for him, you find more endearing than annoying.
Noli folds his arms onto the windowsill, with his typically smug expression plastered all over his face. He places his head against his arms, looking up at you expectantly.
"S33m5 l1k3 y0u're [All Alone On A Late Night?]."
"I see you're not above stalking me for entertainment."
"0o0hhh, d0n'7 b3 5uch a [[Gerber's Baby Food]]. Y0u kn0w u l1k3 th3 [Such Wonderful Company!]." Noli rolls his head to his left, mocking you. You hate his voice.
But, he's right.
"You waiting on an invitation inside or do you intend to spend the rest of the night staring at me through the window like a creep?" You say, turning your back to him as you head back to your bed.
"unl3ss y0u pl4n 0n [#### ### ######], g0tt4 s4y [No Pants, No Shirt, No Service!]" He covers his eyes with his hands, peeking through a gap in his fingers after a moment. "1 d0 3nj0y th3 v13w th0."
Your jaw drops to the floor, looking down to reveal that you are, indeed, in your undergarmets. You weren't expecting him to show up so late, and you haven't exactly made a habit of wearing full pajamas in the summer months. It's too hot to be dressed like Ebenezer Scrooge for bed.
More irritated than embarrassed, You snap the waistband of your underwear at him and flop on the bed. "Gotta say no to both, buster. Way too hot for sex, Wayyy too hot for pajamas. Get in or leave, you're letting all the cold air out."
You swear you hear a glitched out "Yippee!!" come from his direction, but you ignore it. Noli crawls through your window, closing it behind him with a soft thud when he enters. The bed creaks, sinking where he sits at the edge. The air around him crackles. He smells like ozone.
"Don't be too noisy. I'm trying to sleep."
"Sl33p 1s f0r th3 [weak]." He says. Even with your back turned, you can feel his eyes on you. They burn holes into your skin, goosebumps raising along your body where his gaze searches.
So, you whack him with a pillow.
"Stop staring at my ass." You grumble, "You're so annoying."
He chuckles— something deep and obnoxious, followed by sigh of what you think is boredom.
And then, it's quiet. No eyes tracing your skin, no snide or witty remark interrupted by spliced audio of random media. Just the sound of the air conditioning, the alarm clock's electric hum, and your breathing. Despite what relief that it brings, the quiet is enough to put you on edge rather than comfort you when Noli's involved. You hadn't even noticed that your bed no longer had a spot sunk in from his weight. Did he leave?
Every part of you says that he's pulling some shit and that you shouldn't turn around, but the curiousity is more convincing than your instincts in this moment. It's not his character to leave without notice. In fact he's more of the flashy type with his exits, you would've at least seen a purple light if he had teleported away. So, you fold. You roll onto your back slightly, just enough to look behind you.
He was still there, just... taking his shirt off.
For some reason, your heart leaps into your throat, "What are you doing?"
Noli tilts his head back inquisitively— It's a little freaky how flexible he is, now that you think about it— and smiles at you. "m4tch1ng y0ur en3rgy. ["So Not Fair!"] 1f y0u'r3 th3 0n1y 0n3 [In My Birthday Suit]."
"I— I am NOT naked." You fumble over your words like your tongue is made of lead. Why is this getting to you so bad?
"Ne1th3r 4m I! we h4ve s0 much 1n c0mmon." He muses, tossing his shirt on the floor beside your window. "[Have No Fear], my p4nts ar3n't c0m1ng 0ff. w0u1dn't w4nt y0u ["Don't get the wrong idea!"] 4b0ut m3. Unl3ss y0u w4nt me to."
You can hardly imagine the expression on your face that gets him to laugh the way he does— but it cuts through all the bitcrushed and glitching layers of irony, giving you something that sounds normal, if only for a moment. He walks back towards your bed, sitting right next to you and practically forcing you to scoot towards the wall to make room for him.
You should stop him.
"Noli—"
"Mhmmm?"
Noli's arms reach around you, snaking around your torso, hugging you.
You REALLY should stop him.
"You... you can't just—"
An oddly warm sensation of static pricks your skin where he touches you, your heart threatening to explode out of your chest and spill onto his arms at the action. He pulls you a little closer to him, pressing your back flush against his chest. You can feel the implication of a heartbeat in his ribs. You're a little too distracted by him bringing his face into the crook of your neck to really be able to focus on that though.
"Can't wh4t? Cudd13 a g00d fr1end? [Tsk.]"
You shake involuntarily at how his chest rumbles when he speaks, shivering again at the sensation of his face against your neck. He chuckles, nuzzling his face a little closer to you. Noli's chest rises and falls, breathing you in like an expensive perfume. Your mind grows hazy all of a sudden, eyes fluttering shut when he begins to kiss your neck gently.
"Hmm... 4re y0u sur3 y0u [HATE?? HATE??? LET ME TELL YOU HOW MUCH I'VE COME TO HATE YOU—] me? 1 d1dn't ev3n h4ve t0 c0nv1nce y0u." He murmurs into your neck. "...Y0u're a l0t s0ft3r th4n 1 ant1c1pat3d."
It tickles. The tingly warmth of his touch spreads throughout your body, drowsiness following soon after. His lips ghost the skin on your shoulder, hands carefully feeling around the flesh on your body. He doesn't grope you, no, he just caresses your bare skin and hums when you shudder. You sigh when he kisses your neck again, earning an accomplished sound from him. He doesn't stop covering your neck and shoulder in little kisses, squeezing you closer to his chest occasionally.
"1s th1s [Okay]?" He whispers, one of his hands carefully trailing up to your chest. You nod a little, sighing quietly when he squishes the flesh of your chest. The noise he makes in response is something mixed with Satisfied and Interested, but he returns his hand to your waist.
"Didn't expect you to be so fond of nonsexual intimacy." you tease, quietly. He chuckles, honking your boob like a clown horn while making the exact same sound with his mouth.
"wh0 sa1d th1s w4sn't s3xua1 f0r m3? 1'm g3tt1ng [I Bricked my Pc] up r1ght n0w." Noli retorts, but he doesn't do anything beyond caressing and kissing you.
But still, you like to tease. You roll your hips against his, ignoring his gasp and making a thoughtful hum sound, "Are you sure? If you're hard, I can't feel anything."
He grabs your hips a little forcefully, startling you a bit, "Pl4y stup1d g4mes, w1n stup1d pr1zes. [Aw, Dangit]."
"Fair enough," You say, scooting away from him just a bit to make it a little more comfortable. He does not like this, and pulls you back towards him with a bit of a stronger grip on you.
"Oh? Changed your mind?"
"Y0u're th3 [Doll] th4t sa1d [NO ENTRY]. 1 st1ll wanna be close to you, regardless."
Something about the way the distortion drops off at the end of his sentence makes your heart flutter. You nod after a moment, putting your hand on his.
He buries his face into your neck again, his lips pressed idly against the flesh. The shift in tone from playful to soft makes the exhaustion hit your body all at once, your shoulders relaxing as the sleep washes over you. You intertwine your fingers with his, a dream lazily pulling you unconscious.
Noli listens to your breathing as sleep overtakes you in a single wave. Something in his chest twists at the sight of you, caged away like a beloved teddy bear in his arms. He feels your heartbeat against his arm, sending him reeling into thoughts he wouldn't dare to vocalize despite his dickish behavior.
He wants you. Bad. Sexually, romantically— doesn't matter how. He just wants you to himself, permanently. It's not like friends cuddle half naked at 3 am anyway. He mutters something into your ear, kisses your shoulder, and closes his eyes.
He can address those feelings when they become hard to ignore. For now, though, your bodies are slotted against eachother like puzzle pieces. That's all he needs.
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l00kingatthem00n · 1 month ago
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@sunnyfl0w3r @rosehollowed CAN I POST ON MY TUMBLR BLOG IN PEACE YOU TWO /j
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i #needthat don. mr sonnellino. please hit me up. on god.
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l00kingatthem00n · 1 month ago
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i #needthat don. mr sonnellino. please hit me up. on god.
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l00kingatthem00n · 2 months ago
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THE MAFI REQUEST IS SO FIRE the underlings would probably try to put the reader and mafi in some crazy ass situations in order to get him to confess 😭😭 theyd probably lock them in a closet together or some shit and when he gets out he yells at them like “what are we in high school.”
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dude, DUDE YOU GET ME SO MUCH ANON😭‼️‼️‼️
while they like to squabble with each other, they're ultimately loyal to their boss and want the best for him after what he's done for them! and if that means they have to set up the most elaborate plans to even give him the possibility to confess to you, much to mafioso' chagrin, then so be it.
they try to have this SHIT down! they try and note all your preferences and interests, but outside of mafia matters i like to think they're just comically clumsy with this process- considering some personal headcanons, especially with love in general too. resulting to them doing the most outrageous shit to try and pry a confession from mafioso sealed lips.
AGAIN, I AGREE WITH YOU. they probably would just lock him in a closet with you and pray that he just randomly confesses. maybe just make sure the two of you cross paths at some point in the day while you're working. maybe they also try and set up "group outings," where you guys go to bars or restaurants, only for them to all ditch so the two of you can try to have a date.
however, mafioso is so stubborn about not wanting to compromise his relationship with you that his underlings are the ones who are losing it. but when he does confess? HELL, even YOU confess? THEY'RE SOMEHOW MORE EXCITED AND HAPPY THAN YOU GUYS BECAUSE YES!!! THEIR HARDWORK PAID OFF!!!!!! EVEN IF IT WAS THE MOST RIDICULOUS SHIT EVER.
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l00kingatthem00n · 2 months ago
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maybe one day i will write this once requests are over or if someone personally requests it, but i think it'd be such a cute and silly idea if mafioso has like a high-school boy crush on the reader.
and then it leads into the underlings trying to get their fucking fifty-year old boss to confess to you. 😭😭 they're advising him on what flowers to give to you, giving him dress advice, etc, all while you're just minding your own business
idk man...that mobster is kinda cute ok. #needthat 👅
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l00kingatthem00n · 2 months ago
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unrelated. i had the scariest FREAKING nightmare of my life and it was because someone accused me of making ai art on here. and i was put in a gc with a bunch of artists and i had to fight for my life on here and tried convincing everyone i don’t use ai 😭😭😭 oh my god how was that the most scariest thing ive evwr slept too in a while holy shit
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l00kingatthem00n · 2 months ago
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I appeal to you with all my pain and suffering. We are living in difficult conditions as a result of the war in Gaza. Our homes have been destroyed and our dreams have been shattered. We are stuck in Egypt after my wife and I lost our jobs. My family lives in constant fear. My brothers, mother, and father also live in Gaza. These catastrophic conditions are the result of bombing and genocide. They are facing an endless nightmare, and I need your help. Please help us by donating or sharing this post to protect my family and restore hope to our hearts.
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l00kingatthem00n · 2 months ago
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HAI. I love ur works i was wondering if u had any writing tips !!!!!
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HOWDY!! first of all, thank you so much for loving my works hehe. it makes me so happy that you've been enjoying them :)!!!
second of all, gosh, you've caught me by complete surprise!! honestly, i've been writing for so long that i wouldn't even know where to begin articulating my advice. i'm no published author or anything, just someone who loves writing a lot so maybe take my words with a grain of salt.
HOWEVER, i will try my best! and i also apologize in advance for how messy it'll all be below the cut hehe :'D
i think a lot of my writing very loosely follows the idea of creating for yourself first, the audience comes next. OBVIOUSLY, that sounds like a whole bunch of dookie considering that this is a writing blog that takes requests, but i'm more so talking about writing something until YOU accept what you made.
this isn't to say that you can't create something with an audience in mind, wanting others to view your work - sometimes, i do it too LOL. but what i mean is that if you solely create for the gratification of fame and all that, i think you'll find yourself disenchanted with the craft.
i've been writing fanfiction for an EMBARASSINGLY long while LOL. i used to solely write create with an audience in mind, wanting the praise from making stuff that i thought would appeal to the audience. however, going about it like this made me very unhappy with this craft.
this doesn't solely apply to when i wrote fanfiction too! i have a lot of original stories sitting in my documents and books, but i also used to make it all for wanting the flowers. now, honestly, i don't know when or how i stopped feeling like this. but the effect of putting it into practice has made me feel way more satisfied with my writing. basically, what i'm saying is create what YOU want, not what you think anyone else would want.
secondly, i think a lot of my writing also follows the ideas of: "good artists copy, great artists steal." obviously, this doesn't mean plagiarize, claiming other works as yours. rather, take the works you like and be as inspired as you can by them. this can be from story concepts, character ideas, to even the most intricate stuff like how an author writes. :)
i'm not sure whether you want writing advice pertaining to fanfiction or original works, but i follow this idea for both though more so with my oc's and all that. i tend to frankenstein a lot of concepts from media i like until i can eventually reinvent it into something that i'm satisfied with.
i did that with a recent original project where you could probably tell i smashed ideas from project moon games and metal gear rising into something original. and with more fandom related stuff, i basically have a forsaken oc that is black forest cookie from crk and catherine from lcb.
also, a lot of my writing is inspired by poetry and very descriptive books. when i was like, what? 15-16. i read this book called "long way down" and i am an absolute FIEND for it. i've never read a novel before purely told in poetry so it was like the coolest thing ever and i take a lot of inspiration from the syntax, descriptions and dialogue from it.
i used to read also read a lot of classical literature when i was 13, and i've recently picked up those types of books again, so you can see where my LONG sentences and descriptions come from. i actually am like halfway through "crime and punishment" and about to start my like third re-reading of wuthering heights HARHAR.
(unrelated i got this hard cover of wuthering heights and it is the best thing ever. LOOK AT THE DESIGN)
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all in all, just don't be scared to take from stuff that inspires you. so long as you don't, yknow, plagarize and ACTUALLY steal.
OH! i think this is important but also don't be afraid to make the most abysmal rough draft on the first try /lh trust me, i'm sure no work comes out pretty and perfect the first try. that 007n7 i fic posted on this blog had to go through like 4 revisions until i was satisfied with the final product. but, so long as you create it at all, then you're doing great on your writing process!!
on that note, don't be afraid and don't forget to take breaks. whenever i write, i tend to just fixate so much that i literally forget that i have basic needs and then all of a sudden i'm hungry and tired LOL. so yeah, don't forget to give yourself a moment to walk around, stretch, get yourself a snack or two or even hit the snooze.
next, you've probably heard this tip plenty! but practice, practice, practice! if you wanna improve your craft, then you have to put in the effort to do so. this doesn't even have to be like, actually writing either.
and no, i don't think you neccessarily need to undergo these elaborate practices of like "WRITE FOR 30 MINUTES AND SEE WHAT YOU CAN COME UP!" honestly i struggle doing those whenever i wanna try them x( but that's probably the undiagnosed neurodivergence /lh
sometimes, i practice my poetry whenever i feel like it. sometimes, i practice my character studies with characters from media i like or with my original characters. sometimes, i just WRITE for the sake of writing. here's some old stuff i made to show that i'm not just spitting and balling LOL.
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these are only like, small snippets of my practice work because i'm lowkey embarrassed to post some of the whole things. THEY'RE LIKE months old, except for the last one, and i'm seeing some stuff that i don't like about them. but, they're all neccessary practices and steps to improving your writing style. :) and i'm sure you could ???? probably??? see how much my writing style has changed if you opened any one of my fics right now.
furthermore, practicing your writing sometimes doesn't even have to be ACTUALLY writing. for me, i mainyl love to analyze and dissect symbolism, themes, etc, then discuss perspectives and findings with my friends. MY BEST FRIENDS HAVE HEARD ALL MY SPIELS ABOUT CANTO 8 OF LIMBUS COMPANY WAY TOO MUCH </3
but i'm sure it can be different for you! online i've seen people practice their writing through other means by like watching movies, reading books, yada yada, and writing down what they liked or didn't like so they can figure out how they wanna go about their own writing. with this, just figure out what works for you! but of course, to want to improve your writing, you got to put in some work.
lastly, i think you have to love what you do. just a little bit at the very least. this one doesn't apply to writing, but i feel any sort of craft too LOL. if you don't like writing with ALL your soul, and it's not those moments where you're so frustrated with the craft that you need a momentary reprieve before diving into it again, i think maybe it's time to re-evaluate if this is something for you.
i write because I LOVE doing this. i've been so enchanted with stories ever since i was young, and that has always been a passion of mine. i'd feel it'd be pretty hard to do something you're not passionate about...like...everyday... and maybe it shouldn't be something you pour all your time in. but it's not my right to put my nose into other peoples motivations. we're here to make stuff !!!!
so yeah, try to learn to love what you do if you don't already :)
AND THAT'S ALL I THINK I HAVE! wow, this is so long, i'm so sorry, anon, you probably didn't want to endure the Yappatron 500 😭. if you've made it to the end, thank you for taking the time to read! please take care :D
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l00kingatthem00n · 2 months ago
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PLEASE DO A FLUFF X READER WITH 1x4 OR SHEDLETSKY OR HATRED FROM BLOCKTALES
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━━ WRONG MOVE, AND YOU'RE DEAD!
WARNING: canon-typical violence - she/he/they pronouns are used to refer to 1x1x1x1.
This match has been nothing but miserable, with body after body dropping. As the sole survivor, you're left to fend off against 1x1x1x1 and their creations made from their emotions. While she seems intent on killing you, his underlings seem to want otherwise.
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THE REJUVENATION OF ROTTED BODIES. What’s dead is now alive once more. Corpses regain consciousness, a sound that fills the cheap hotel with fragmented bones forcefully cracked into their place and slit skin sutured shoddily. Then, what follows is a sort of hissing sound, like that of a snake about to sink its fangs into its prey. The sharp winds from cast swords rip throughout the decrepit hallways. You grit your teeth. You squeeze your eyes shut. You unintentionally tighten the bandage wrappings around your arm’s swelling wound, anticipating the pristine blades to pierce your flesh. But, it’s not meant for you; not yet, anyway. 
Still, you’re startled. With your heart erratically beating against your ribs, especially as a scream eventually resounds through the desolate hallways. There goes Shedletsky. Now, you’re all by your lonesome. A sigh of compliance leaves you; an acceptance of your fate. What supplies the medkit offered is barely enough to salvage your sorry state. Be it yours or the others, you don’t know whose blood you’re caked in. You can’t exactly make out what you’re seeing either, vision obscured and losing its colour. You’re not sure how you’ll manage to pull through, and so you’re certain that you’re just not going to make it all through this final minute. At least a certain somebody will be pleased by the end of all this. 
You’re sure the 1x1x1x1 you’ve envisioned in your mind is perfectly tailored to what you’ll see when you meet him again. A smug smirk crossed their typically zipped lips, with arms crossed and chin tilted upwards in triumph. She’ll probably go on and on about how you can not beat an entity composed of pure malice, but your attempts were at the most “intriguing” and “amusing” to watch. For as much as they love you, not even you are exempt from their venomous tongue. Again, you sigh and firmly secure the bandages against your arm despite the blots spotting your sight. It would be nice to just accept your miserable death, but the Spectre loves a show, doesn’t it? 
Begrudgingly, you pull yourself from the corridors. Despite how nice it is that the Spectre lets you see where 1x1x1x1 is when you’re the sole survivor, you’ve missed the chance to see them at all, seeing as you’ve finally finished tending to your wounds. Whatever. It’s fine. Considering how you’re not rushing around the map to survive, you don’t think she saw you either. You trudge through an old bedroom, footsteps muted along the carpeted floor. It’d be best to get to that ball pit. That little staircase is enough elevation to have you some leverage over them when they do all that necromantic sorcery. 
You shamble through into another room. That strange junction between the grim halls, the play area, along with this bedroom. The fluorescent light hums softly throughout the room. A dark green glow cast upon your surroundings. You squint, trying to discern whatever familiar furniture you can make through the blur of your vision. Though you’re not given much time to entertain what’s in your surroundings, there are footsteps other than your approach and you’re not allowed to react accordingly– Damn your injuries.
Something cold, clammy and corpse-like grabs you by the shoulder. It’s not 1x1x1x1. But, it’s certainly one of her undead underlings. Its grip is iron-clad, keeping you where you are, and you’re too paralyzed with fear to even try moving away yourself. You swallow thickly and only expect the worst to come. Maybe you’ll have your limbs broken, a dislocated elbow or knee. Maybe you’ll be bashed into the wall, spun and slammed so hard you’ll risk another concussion. Or maybe you’ll be pushed into the ground, your body unable to sustain the weight of the living dead. However, those possibilities aren’t exactly brought to fruition. Rather, you’re met with something strange, to say the least. 
The underling regards you with an indiscernible expression, which is impressive considering their lack of expression in general. Suddenly, with a softness you didn't even think it was capable of, spins you around and it just, hugs you. The gesture itself is not unpleasant. It’s just maybe a little awkward when you think this could be Shedletsky’s dead body embracing you so firmly. Regardless, you don’t dare to move. With taut muscles, you stand there as the undead holds onto you. And eventually, it rests its heavy cheek upon your shoulder. You blink; once, then twice. 
What do you even do about this?
Despite the mass of corpses littered throughout the hotel that should be intent on killing you, there’s a tenderness in the way this resurrected being of malice handles you. By now, you’re admittedly expecting a behavioural change, to be met with violence once more. Though, now that you’re thinking about it, if these reanimations are extensions of 1x1x1x1, whether that be his character and consciousness. Then, it is so charmingly unfortunate that their own creations are practically spilling their affections for you. You’re finally about to reciprocate the underling's embrace. Your hands move to drape across its shoulders. Before you know it, however, her voice chimes throughout the otherwise quiet room.
“What is the meaning of all of this?”
A loud pop follows the snappy movement toward where his voice comes from. Their form lingers near the doorframe. The dark green light cascaded from the fluorescent fixtures, casting a heavy shadow against 1x1x1x1’s hunched posture. Their chained, bonded hands drag the weight of the daemon shank behind them. While their eyes, a blank white sclera in contrast with the piercing red star that takes up where the other socket would be, they practically pierce through you. This would be absolutely horrifying if you weren’t already so accustomed to it. Even with the ferocity that underlies her expression, you can discern the ever so slight crinkles of her eyes, the imperceptible smile, the fond exasperation. 
“Nothing. Just some bonding, that’s all.” You teasingly drawl, finally reciprocating the affections of the underling. 
With this, 1x1x1x1 seems to scowl. Not at you, not yet. But, at the minion you’re embracing, something that they’ve willed into existence. An elated smile curls across your lips. You can’t help but laugh at the evident displeasure on her expression, along with the obviousness of the creature you’ve become sweet on. 
“With something as lowly as that? You know so much better.” 
“Well,” You hum. “It’s a lot more receptive than you are.”
1x1x1x1 rolls his eyes; your smile only widens. 
“I assure you I’m ultimately much better than that shambling thing.”
“It’s an extension of you, honey. Be as nice as you can be.” 
In what you can only assume is half-hearted displeasure, they click their tongue at you. Your bottom lip juts forward in a pout, batting your eyelashes at her. You loosen your hold on the content minion. It wanders around with the sound of its footsteps muted on the carpeted floor. You take a step towards 1x1x1x1. Your hands clasped as you lean forward and close some of the distance between the two of you.
“Well, either way, you know your little minion seems fond of me? Which is funny considering they’re part of you.” 
He raises a brow at you. You chuckle softly about to compromise the slightest chance of you winning this.
“I didn’t know you liked me this much, 1x.”
Their rage comes slowly. You can see the embarrassment, but mainly the displeasure that crosses her features. A frown across his zipped lips, squinted eyes, and narrowed brows. Then, all of a sudden, you feel a bursting pain piercing through your lower abdomen. Only to worsen when you feel nausea overcome you, somehow worsening your already awful sight. 
“QUIET,” 1x1x1x1 exclaims, snapping their head away from you.
You glance down and you see what the issue is. To your unsurprise, 1x1x1x1 has ensured her victory this round. Of course, by thrusting the daemon shank forward and stabbing you in the gut. All that leaves you is a teasing hum. Then, your knees buckle once the blade is withdrawn. You may be feeling an overwhelming sensation upon the wound. Nevertheless,  you know that once the Spectre resurrects you, you’re going to love seeing her again. Well, it’s not worth it to delay the inevitable. You close your eyes; everything goes dark, and you die. 
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AUTHOR'S NOTE: 1x1x1x1 the thing that you are. /pos i love bro but characterizing was such a heruclean labour. and also. HAS . ANYONE EVER CONSIDERED GIVING 1X LIKE, A "NORMAL-SOUNDING" NAME.
i love bro but i feel so ridiculous writing out 1x1x1x1 😭 and like. 1X IS FINE TOO. WHATEVER I GUESS 🙄 but is there a fanon like "normal" name for her like. Micheal. Or Stacy. /j
anyway, hope you're all doing well! i've been doing better ever since some personal stuff got figured out. make sure to take care everyone :D!
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l00kingatthem00n · 2 months ago
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curious about something. to all my limbus company and forsaken fans, how interested would any of you be in like...x reader fanfiction about like hacklord shedletsky and gas harpoon john doe that have personalities akin to their limbus counterparts???
THIS IS NOT TO SHAME ANYBODY who does not follow the personalities of their references. it;s fanfiction have fun :D but i love love love how fucked up erlking and ahab are. and i lowkey wanna practice writing characters like them. anyway, yay or nay!
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l00kingatthem00n · 2 months ago
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so i got the ao3 author treatment if youre wondering 😭. and something popped up in my personal life but for the most part i think its over now!! so yay!! writing as a treat :P
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l00kingatthem00n · 2 months ago
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My friend, I apologize for asking for help, but we are all hoping for your generosity and kindness. Hunger is eating away at our bodies. There is no food, I just need $50 to buy bread for my children, no vegetables, no meat, no milk💔, I just want bread. Consider them your children or siblings, your donation is enough. Be with us. Please, I need your humanity and compassion for us today. May God bless you and double your donation. My children send you greetings
please donate what you can!! every bit counts :D
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l00kingatthem00n · 2 months ago
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please do what you can!!!
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