bunji-enthusiast

[bunji-enthusiast]

Headcanon About the Figures

In the modern DOOM trilogy, you can find figures of the Doom Slayer, characters, and enemies that can be found within the games. In was introduced in 2016 but timeline wise TDA is when it started.

My headcanon is that some sort of minor entity took interest in the Doom Slayer and made a figure in the Slayer's likeness for him to find, and upon seeing his enjoyment over the figure, decided to keep making them :D

They were very pleased over the Slayer's reaction to Serrat's figure. They would have made more, had Serrat not.. y'know. They didn't want to make Slayer more sad :(

I originally thought of this when I collected all the toys in Eternal, and the Icon of Sin just appeared on the shelf.

There's a minor god out there who doesn't see the Doom Slayer as a killing machine, and instead a neat guy who appreciates his creations 🙂‍↕️

[bunji-enthusiast]

What is the strangest request you got that you had to deny writing it?

As far as I can remember, I got a request for a second part to the poppy playtime cannibalism where the reader almost fell into the tendencies. It was a large bit to breach for me personally so I admit was surprised when I saw a request asking for one where the reader actually fell into cannibalistic tendencies.

I’m not ashamed to say that I had a hard time actually trying to write it and decided to delete the request.

Not sure if I already approached this subject already but whatever.

[bunji-enthusiast]

Is it OK if I can ask you some writing tips? so I’m writing a sci-fi book and my villain is fucked up in head and believe in eugenics and extreme social Darwinism. How can you write that kind of story without sounding like a total jackass? 

I’m not entirely reliable for this kind of stuff but I’ll will try my best to give some tips anyway lol.

I suppose there is a sort of disconnect between you and your villain here, you can try and rely on their point of view and imagination — slip into that mindset. For a time the characteristics aren’t highly villainous or overtly evil, but it’s a view from one side which could be regarded as unnecessary and unacceptable.

For one, the villain could in fact be in the right here. Or perhaps not if in the story the inclusion of major death and injustice incurs, which then would stand for a call to action for the other characters. If you truly intend to make your villain despised, then you must hate the character as well. Authors as in your case don’t need to agree with their villains, but they must understand the character. It’s a sourced understanding of sorts, where it’s a bridge.

Present a moment where it explains the descent with their beliefs in Eugenics and Social Darwinism. Sure they could just have a simple belief framed as “just for the sake of it” but I believe it’s an important fact to present with. It changes how their presence affects the story.

Even if the villain is the antagonist, they are still a protagonist regardless of their morals or point of view on things.

[bunji-enthusiast]

Note // ideas…. Multiple. Motivation? None. But the fluff is there and it is rotting me. imagine if your the only other person that Serrat allows you to be in close vicinity with.

It was strange really, the only one Serrat genuinely listened to was The Slayer.

Yet here the augmented dragon was, cuddling up to you at your accidental behest. you were fairly confused, but almost tinged with half-hearted amusement. you almost felt honored in a way, to see that he was so willing to let you touch him as his master would. however, the real mystery that plagued you, is the why.

Why would Serrat so willingly be up close and personal with you? it was obvious that reprieve was left up to the man himself. You really only had come to the creature's den with the intent of repairing some of the machinery Serrat lugs around due to damages the dragon had incurred during the last siege upon the land. Obviously you had stayed way later past your intended session, but then you heard low growling emitting from Serrat's throat. So out of curiosity, you cautiously approached a few steps with one question.

"Is... something wrong?" you asked, your tone laced with concern--wondering if perhaps Serrat was injured somehow. You angle your head, trying to look for any possible wounds or cuts on his body. He merely growls, a lighter undercurrent evident. Serrat lowers his head, his one good eye flickering over to you, it was hard to see beneath the metallic mask he adorns; but it was noticeable. It pulses with red, an apparent trait.

And for a moment, you take the time to briefly admire Serrat. All the machinery, the metal gauntlets on his front legs, the scar that disabled his left eye. But he still stands strong, still so firm and ready to fight. Serrat was a lot like The Slayer in that way, you could see why they bond so well together. They were well prepared and ready to die for one another, ready to protect each other.

Admittedly, you envied them for such a thing. But it was an envy you wished not to serve, and instead locked it away. Instead you chose to admire it, and learn from it.

You carried your own issues, your own tears and grievances for yourself. But with Serrat, you could in a way, just be. Even if initially, you dared not to approach him without any sight of permission, or the quick scuttling from and to when you repaired the parts that became so engraved within the dragon's appearance.

You ran solo, on your own. You who bore the great knowledge of combining the care of machine and scaly flesh--and maintaining it as well. While your connection with the Slayer was grotesque and at most, gentle, you found solace in just merely being alone. Inwardly, you grew fond of his augmented companion. Even talking to the great creature without prepense or compensation from the other. There was thoughts and imagination, wondering just how much Serrat experienced and endured, even long before he met the man in green armor.

In the midst of your mind, a soft growl rips you from your transparent reminiscing, leaving you to be somewhat surprised as Serrat nudges your human body. A stark contrast between both beings, an easy reminder. Even now, something wrenches your heart, as if you could understand him. "I'm alright, but are you truly injured?" You twist the concern, and the dragon only settles for laying down, encircling his body upon your immediate area.

That action surprises you, leaving to yelp under the weight of mass flesh cuddling your own. Serrat runs hot, and temperamentally cold due to his metal armor. A median really, and it was nice.

You shake your head out of your train of thoughts, you were so confused. Why was he being so comfortable with you like this? For a moment it amused you, but now you were just plagued with confusion. "Why?" you ask, as if you almost expected Serrat to give you a verbal and concise answer. In return, you only heard a low groan, the sound rumbling your body. You almost shivered at the contact, sighing in mortal defeat.

Serrat couldn't speak, but many things could be said, particularly without the proprietary measures of vocalization. As for the dragon, and for some, it was a burden to bear. One they chose to discard.

You did not blame Serrat in that regard, or any of them.

Not even The Slayer.

However, it made you think at times. How much it was worth to forsake the novelty of vocal language. Perhaps it was really time for you to learn from Serrat, and that had begun right now.

Despite your own realization, you felt something hinder at the reaches of your awakeness. Tiredness ebbs at your eyelids, and without warning, it claims you to the chambers of sleep.

Serrat takes notice, a low—I nterceptible rumble wavering from his throat as he curls up around you closer, following you in sleep.

For the first time since then, you've actually slept well.

[bunji-enthusiast]

Thank you very much. I'll write it down. I want to say hello then. Thank you very much. I hope you had a good day. I love you very much.

Absolutely, much love anon :>

[bunji-enthusiast]

Ooglie booglie bitch

AUGHHHHHHH

(I can never get over that clip though, it’s so funny 😭😭)

[bunji-enthusiast]

Hello, how are you? Excuse me, I have a question, and I'm quite ignorant, and I want to get in touch if I can. When is your birthday? Thank you Excuse me if I bother you, but you're important to me.

My birthday is September 15th :)

[bunji-enthusiast]

[bunji-enthusiast]

Do you know about Glosseryck from Star Vs the Forces of Evil?

Cuz I aspire to chill like he be doing

Never watched the show but I’ve seen clips of him…

I agree though, I want his level of chillness.

[bunji-enthusiast]

𝐁𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐝!

Dante finds out something about you that made everything make sense.

Note // when a bitch remembers they can write anything they want to (me, I’m that bitch). This is just some self-indulgent comfort and he lowkey just gives off a gentle vibe. reader is deaf here, cause I am.

The first time he met you, he was confused. it was as if your eyes were glazed over, distant. you snapped out of it soon enough, but you never explained that strange circumstance. but he never asked, you didn't answer. besides, he normally wasn't one to judge such a thing. even if it was just momentary. in the cross-shoots of bullets and gravel dissipating to thin smoke, you always seemed to be somewhere else, not all there. Dante wasn't too sure as to why you were so faded out from your spatial awareness, not that he didn't defend you of course, it looked like as if you didn't want to even be there. it was odd.

("hey sleepyhead! think you can stay awake f'me?") it was his one little nickname for you, and it stuck. almost literally and figuratively as he narrowly pulls you away from the line of fire, ducking you beneath a stray wooden desk. you hated the stupid nickname, both because it was something you never live down regardless of the people you meet, and that Dante just gave off the impression that he was a cocky multitudinous asshole.

you rarely spoke, and only just proved your intentions through actions. it seemed faceted, as if you weren't so sure of the path that you set yourself own, self-imposed or not. every other hour, thoughts swam through your head, good ones, horrible ones. they simply don't stop. do you bring it up though? not really.

the mere thought of even bringing it up seemed so insignificant, unimportant.

though, one day, you couldn't escape the subject.

the weather was easy, nice and grey — carrying a hint of warmth to it for those who really enjoyed the dreary weather.

you had situated yourself on his couch, as worn as it might be. his apartment wasn’t a complete effort that would scream ‘rich’ but it’s still something else nonetheless. as for the man across from you…

the dust clouds had bloomed away as Dante had just dealt with a few intruders, bounty hunters or not, he didn’t really give a shit who they were. though it seemed the hunt for Dante and his necklace wasn’t going to let up, not for a good while. but that wasn’t what was taking the front of his mind, not right now.

“so…”

“what?” you replied.

“I’m not tryin’ to be… invasive here.” he begins, white brows furrowing as if he was trying to approach the incoming subject with a modicum of respect; rolling his wrist as he nurses a blooming bruise. you raise a brow, having a feeling as to where this was going.

"kind of already are." you shot back, and Dante half-heartedly winces at your tone. but he doesn't back down, deciding to continue as he walks over, the creaky floorboard bearing in the weight of his footsteps.

he rolls his neck, bones cracking in his wake. "you seem to zone out, a-lot." the hybrid enunciates with a raise of his brows, widening his eyes as if to really get the point across. Dante then shrugs, "I don't know, why is that?" he finally gets out. you paused in your small movements, crossing arms and rubbing at the skin at the forefront of your elbow.

the memories surfaces in your mind when you realize why he asks, and you sigh; "I'm deaf."

a silence fills the air as he registers what you bluntly put out into the atmosphere, and Dante doesn't know how to respond without making it weird. his eyes widen, in genuine surprise this time. the man doesn't know what to do, and he crosses the threshold to your side as he sits down beside you. he looks ahead, the cogs finally igniting in his head. he puts his face in his hands, now dragging them down as he mentally facepalms himself for now realizing it sooner. "that makes so much now."

"no shit."

"yeah, no shit!" Dante exclaims, suddenly shooting up in his seating with a proper posture. "couldn't you have mentioned this to me before?"

you groan, rolling your eyes as you let your head rest on the back of the couch. "I'm literally wearing a little machine in my ear, which, is called a hearing aid—don't know if you've heard of that." that and one other thing, lip-reading, you had to try damn well and hard to keep up with able-hearing folks to understand what the fuck they say half the time. but with Dante, he wasn't that judgy, he was surprisingly patient and was willing to help you understand the situation.

One example being: (you two were hunting down some demons together, and one was spewing off something inspid. possibly inspired by the vengeance in the name of it's demonic brethren.

"wow, I picked a bad time to space out." you suddenly say, tilting your head toward Dante as you held up your hand against the side of your mouth. "what'd I miss?"

"apparently Ilgron is taking over the family business." he says, flashing an amused grin, copying your actions.

"who's Ilgron?" you echo, arching a brow.

his expression just shifts into one of hilarity, fully prepared for what happens next, "just shoot whoever I shoot in a second.")

your snapped out of your flashback by Dante's words.

"I was sheltered for most of my childhood before I took up demon hunting." he replies with his eyes sliding over to yours, a half-exerted effort of shrugging one shoulder, "I sure as hell didn't have time for learning about all the neat little corners of good old life."

truth be told, he was a very energetic kid, wanting to play in the mud and forge swords out of sticks. he always bothered his brother Vergil for it, and he mourns those days. he was usually way too down in the dumps to actually want to have time for anything else. even then, he was carrying something bigger then just being that, human.

"you sure you actually had been in school? you could've ran into other classmates with a similar condition." and at those words, Dante reluctantly shakes his head. you were surprised.

"I did have an education, but it was always back... home." he admits with a small frown, slumping back against the couch.

you decide to shift the subject, sensing the forlorn longing that he didn't seem to want to get into, "well at least I know you don't have a small brain."

"hey!"

you snigger, almost giving way to a giggle, holding your hand over your mouth. "anyway, gotta be honest, I didn't think you'd take me being... deaf so well."

Dante shrugs, "can't help how you're born, right?"

your shoulders feel lighter, eyes brimming with thoughtfulness. "well put Dante." you said, something warm tugging at your lips. Dante smiles unabashedly at that, leaning forward and pulling at your arm, causing you to yelp as your sent crashing down on him.

"what was that for?" you groan as you shake your head at him, and his smile slowly transforms into a grin.

"you looked like you needed it." he honestly replies, and he readjusts you to lay more comfortably on him, like a languid teddy bear.

"curse you." you spit out.

"love you too." he replies with a warmer tone.

you sigh in defeat, laying your head down, right atop of where his own heart rests. feeling the pressing but amiable weight of his hand lay on top of your head, pressing a gentle kiss to the temple of your forehead.

you swear like nothing else had ever before put you asleep so easily.

[bunji-enthusiast]

PINK PONY CLUB

God, what have you done? You're a pink pony girl And you dance at the club Oh mama, I'm just having fun On the stage in my heels It's where I belong down at the

-Pink Pony Club!

[bunji-enthusiast]

Nearly got ran over walking in school

DAMN, that’s not a fun thing to experience 😨

[bunji-enthusiast]

Anything new with you?

Nada unfortunately, how bout u?

[bunji-enthusiast]

Never had sweet potatoes, only yam or sometimes with arroz con leche.

Definitely should give em a try!

[bunji-enthusiast]

Potato

I like sweet potato tho

[bunji-enthusiast]

What’s the craziest tea happening in your city/neighborhood? (sorry, I live in a small add town.)

Nothin right now, just the occasional snowstorm and flood. I haven’t heard a lick of anything interesting, my elder sister has a new baby now though. Three nephews! Not one of them was a girl lol.

[bunji-enthusiast]

Least favorite character and why?

Hmm, it’d probably be Pike from The 100. The shows later seasons kinda sucked but that’s a whole other topic.

Anyway spoilers if u want to watch the show urself.

As for why I don’t like Pike > he shot Lincoln in the head (his justification for doing so was terrible and he let the power get to his head).

2: he behaved terribly toward the other characters in the camp Arkadia, and im pretty sure he ordered like… lashings against the character Abby? Laws and regulations are important, sure, but for the very act of saving someone’s life i find it personally stupid.

3: Pike could’ve stuck to being a teacher, he was trained and equipped to better educate the younger folk to prepare them for the days ahead. Survival is important. But however, he was elected Chancellor due to infighting between the adults. He was sort of manipulative in a way.

4: he was strong headed and stubborn, good qualities — but not enough to outweigh the necessities when being in a place of power.

I can’t think of anymore things, but these are the main things for my dislike of him.