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Okay. I'm a loser. I need someone to talk about Bastion with. Someone who might be willing to listen to this fucking nightmare thing I'm working on. Anyone out there wanna talk to a massive Supergiant nerd and listen to this monstrosity I'm writing?
#serious inquiry#i should put this on my writing blog#oh well#ive got an idea for a fanfic#and by monstrosity#i mean im looking at 10k right now and the story isnt told#bastion supergiant#supergiant games#fanfiction#its a radio nowhere au#like the Springsteen song#its gonna mostly just be dealing with trauma from the Calamity and healing with help from others
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sorry to be a bit of a hater but i do wish youtubers weren't so scared of making their videos just like, "reviews", whys everything gotta be a "video essay" all the time. every day my recommendations are filled with 40 minute videos titled "_____: An Underrated Masterpiece" where the first like five minutes are reading the wikipedia definition of "masterpiece" in a somber voice with dramatic themed text on screen. please just tell me how good or bad you think something is and use the rest of the runtime to explain why. you dont need to put on all these airs
#i know the ahem. channel. of some awe....... that whole situation kind of scared people off from using the word review#but like we live in the future now. you can make a review. i believe in you#AND LIKE i like a good video essay!! but im picky. because i read academic shit for fun#when i see a capital E essay im expecting theses. im expecting sub headers. im expecting multiple examples AND footnotes with asides#(and i know this is a controversial topic but i do expect them to be long. because if you read aloud a 4 page journal article its gonna)#(take a bit of time LOL maybe i just read too much academia shit. but i dunno man. theres not a lot you can say about like a big huge)#(topic with multiple angles if you only have like 10 minutes. maybe i just talk too slow. i need to breath <3 )#theres other formats too. surveys. retrospectives. informative essays. persuasive essays. etc#and like i also read lots of reviews not just of like movies and books but of like gallery exhibitions and shit!! they can be extremely#interesting a lot of work and some really beautiful writing!! nothing wrong with a review!!! theyre important#but i do get annoyed with like. the odd air of pretention i see in a lot of video essays. especially cause its usually not backed up by#the content. i dont care for those airs in academia either. nor do i like it in documentaries#just talk naturally. you'll find your voice. there might be pretention in it in the end but it'll be yours#if im making sense. i hear a lot of people talking in a pretention that is not their own. something they put on because thats what they#think they should do. you need to find your own pretention. be pretentious in a way that feels natural to youuuuuu#hell im being pretentious. about this LOL but like its my own. it is a pretentiousness ive built over the past half decade#play around. write a blog. i dunno. find your voice dear youtubers. find your voice
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microfic monday
KEVIN/AARON • aftg • SOCKS, for @naturecalls111
mina wanted kevaaron socks 2 weeks ago & i decided to embarrass kevin about it
#kevaaron#kevin day#aaron minyard#aftg#aftg fic#microfic monday#jane microfic monday#mm1#10.06.24#jane writes sometimes#i am uploading these so slowly LOL but i have more to do today so i thought i should throw another up before they stack too far#posting these on twt in a thread but slowly remembering to put them on tumblr#original post explaining how to prompt is in the mm tag on my blog i think#mina u don’t have to engage w this here it’s just for my system lmao#mm: mina
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Don’t Do This
a/n; I was gonna try and take a couple days off posting ‘cause I felt bad for being way too much but I’m addicted to the panicky feeling that a new post gives me & I could only hold out for one day :’) hello again
I wrote this world in drabbles so that’s a big part of the reason it’s getting posted in drabbles but the conundrum I’m having now is that two or three of them are now actually following the plot & the rest are all just completely random so WHAT is the rhyme or reason here ?? there isn’t one buckle in
here’s another random ♡
(introducing the rest of the unit ! fun fun fun)(I’ve created a universe that’s just so much fun for everybody involved)
tw/cw: grievous bodily harm, mutilation, disfigurement, life altering injuries, rape, noncon, guns, graphic depictions of violence, gore, transphobia, misgendering, psychological torture, torture, amputation, humiliation
living weapon whumpee, creepy whumper, super soldiers, punishment
word count : this one’s long as hell, like almost 4K words, that’s why you’re getting the heads up <3
Good days, in a place like this, are far and few in between.
Most days are wrought with some kind of torment, haunted by something unimaginable. Silas’ day to day can be averaged out to mutilation, brain surgery, training exercises — a game of slaughter for the soldiers — and field tests — a game of slaughter for Silas.
Silas doesn’t have a lot of good days.
When he does, they just make him tense.
It’s like something is missing, and how fortunate it is that the missing piece is some kind of agony but Silas finds himself bracing for it all the same.
They’re sprawled across the common room, across the couches and the mismatched carpets, and Silas isn’t in surgery, nobody else is in training, their wounds are all healing. Silas is dwarfing the loveseat but Wren had fit himself into the spot at his side and he’s so warm next to him that it’s a good day. It makes Silas’ fingers twitch. Something’s just —
Something isn’t right. It’s electric, and it prickles at the back of his neck. He’s already looking at the door when it chirps to life; a keycard is accepted, then a fingerprint, then the vault lock is unsecured.
Silas was right. Something’s wrong.
The door grinds open and a cavalry of soldiers explode into the room like a swarm of flies. It’s an ambush. They move quickly, covering the door and the perimeter of the common room, shouting over each other, shouting commands.
They flood through the common room, guns pointed towards them.
Wren’s small hand finds Silas’ quickly and Silas squeezes. He helps Wren to his feet as guns are aimed into their faces and soldiers shout at them, commanding and militant, “on your feet, asset! On your feet!”
They’re herded into a row, which gives Silas a cool, uneasy feeling he doesn’t let show on his face. Standing next to each other, they’re too drastically different in size to hold hands in any practical way, but Wren keeps close at his side, fingers woven through Silas’ sleeve so tightly his knuckles are white.
It gives Silas a pang of — not of reassurance, because it’s next to impossible to ever be reassured in a place like this, but something a bit more akin to resolve. Something’s wrong, but it really doesn’t matter what it is. If Wren’s in any sort of danger, Silas will raise fuckin’ hell. No harm will befall even a hair on his little blonde head as long as Silas has something to fuckin’ say about it.
He shifts, only slightly, shielding Wren behind his arm just as Point saunters into their unit, hands behind his back, at ease. He walks with casual, unhurried footsteps, pacing up and down the line of them, and he’s quiet for a long time. He stops once in front of Wren and Silas doesn’t like the way he looks at him.
“Assets,” he greets finally, loud and commanding. “It has come to my attention that this unit has been causing me some trouble. Again.” He stops, turns to face them, arms still at ease. “One of you,” he says, “has been feeding some information to the big guy —“ he points at Silas “— that we suspect will make him extremely volatile. That puts us in danger, and that just won’t do, will it?”
Point looks down the row of them before he settles on Wren, close against his back. “And it was you, wasn’t it?” He asks. “You weren’t a very good girl.”
Wren inhales sharply at his back and Silas isn’t sure if the race of his heartbeat is Wren’s or his own. Something cold starts to trickle down the back of his neck, just as cold as whatever’s started to frost over the inside of his ribcage.
“I asked you a question,” Point says.
Wren’s fingertips dig into Silas’ arm so hard he probably draws blood. “No,” he breathes, so soft it’s barely audible.
Point grins at him. “No?”
“No,” he insists, just as soft. “I’ve never — no. They don’t — they don’t know.”
His eyebrows lift. “They don’t know?” The way his smile spreads wider across his face is grotesque. “My,” he says. “Didn’t this just get a whole lot more interesting?”
“Please,” Wren whispers.
The way Point grins at him makes Silas’ stomach bubble. He pushes Wren behind him entirely. “Fuck off.”
Point’s gaze flickers up to Silas’ face, almost appraising, before that awful, grotesque smile spreads across his face again. “That’s why you’ve got such a soft spot for her,” he says. “She never told you she’s a whore.”
Wren inhales sharply and Silas is going to rub that smile off Point’s face with the concrete floor.
Before he gets the opportunity, Robin says, “it was me.”
He doesn’t break line, he doesn’t change face, a proper and trained soldier. But, “I talked to Silas. Wren didn’t know.”
Point turns his head before he follows the movement of it, stalking the line of them to Robin.
Wren’s older brother, the familial resemblance is undeniable; they have the same white hair, the same dark eyes, the same cheekbones. The difference between them is that Wren is a person, soft and warm, and Robin is a super soldier. He’s big and he’s broad, his hair cropped short above his ears. When he isn’t in combat, he wears round, dorky glasses. He’s always scared the hell out of Silas and Silas doesn’t quite know why. Not much else scares him.
Robin had come to him maybe a week ago, and he hadn’t said much. He didn’t know much, even. Wren hasn’t really been…himself, he’d said. More than usual. He won’t tell me what’s going on with him but I was hoping you would…keep an eye on him. He trusts you.
He really didn’t even need to ask, because Silas was always keeping an eye on Wren but Robin was worried about him and Silas knows more than enough how that feels.
He keeps his chin up as Point approaches. Wren is shaking at Silas’ back. “You?”
“Sir,” Robin agrees.
Point hums thoughtfully. “This unit is just full of surprises today, isn’t it?”
He just barely looks at his men, tipping his head towards Robin. The militia descends on him, shouting and aiming and threatening, getting Robin to his knees, hands behind his head. Two of them hold him there, kneeling on the concrete as Point stands in front of him with a grin.
“Asset,” he says. “You have been charged today with inciting violence.”
“No,” Wren breathes. “No, please —“
“Normally,” Point says, grinning wider, not turning his head, “the punishment for inciting violence is execution. But we’ve made exceptions for the freak,” he explains, his eyes flickering to Silas, “so we’ve decided to show you mercy. You will get to walk away.” And he grins, flicking his wrist, and a buck knife slides out from his sleeve and glints tauntingly in the fluorescence. “We just need to make absolutely certain you are no longer capable of inciting violence in our facility. Precautions need to be taken.” With his other hand, he grabs a fistful of Robin’s white hair and he drives his knee into his windpipe.
Robin chokes, gasping for ragged breaths as Point takes a step back, just far enough that he can boot Robin in the face and throw him off his knees, onto his back. From there, Point stomps down onto his face, and the pitch of the gurgling noise that Robin makes gives Silas goosebumps.
“Today,” he announces, “we will take your tongue. We will no longer have to worry about threats of violence, and you will be used as an example to your unit. We don’t make empty threats. We will not have any more insurgence in this fuckin’ place, do I make myself clear?”
“Please,” Wren breathes, peeking out from around Silas’ arm and Silas tries to shield him again but he’s stubborn, he’s insistent. “Please. Don’t do this.”
Point looks at him and he looks for a long time. It makes all the hair at the back of Silas’ neck stand up, and he holds out an arm, not shielding Wren, just blocking him, just in case. Silas can see the idea form in the way that Point’s face lights up, cruel and delighted. He clicks his tongue at Wren, angling his head, some kind of signal. “Bring the girl over here,” he commands. “I want to be inside her while I cut out her brother’s tongue.”
“No,” Robin grunts, with the wet strain of somebody bleeding down the back of his own throat.
“No,” Wren breathes, taking a quick step back.
A wall of black tactical gear and assault rifles closes in on him quickly, and Silas moves without any hesitation or conscious thought at all.
He pivots. He’s gentle, he’s so gentle with Wren as he pushes him behind himself and barricades him from the nightmare cavalry. Wren’s hand finds his arm so tightly that Silas’ bones grind together and it’s his resolve. He won’t let anything happen to Wren — he can’t. Over his dead fuckin’ body.
Robin — whatever. Silas could take him or leave him. But he means a lot to Wren, and Silas won’t let Wren down.
“I fuckin’ dare you,” he spits.
Give lifts his gun. “Stand down, asset.”
“Tell you what,” Silas says, lifting his chin. “If you get me down, I’ll stay down.”
Give aims his gun towards Silas’ dick. “I don’t think that’ll be too hard.”
But the funniest thing about these soldiers is that they know Silas. They were here for his creation. They’ve witnessed every field test. They know what he can do. They know exactly what he’s capable of. When Silas needs to be escorted from the unit they’ll argue amongst themselves, throwing weight and rank around, about who has to stand in front because none of them want to put their backs to him.
They’re scared of him. They’re right to be, but they’re scared of him. But there’s something in this unit — maybe it’s because Silas is corned and drastically outnumbered, but it makes them cocky. It’s like they forget to be scared.
They should always be scared.
Silas rips the gun out of Give’s hands and shatters every bone in his face with the base. He drops into a limp pile of limbs and Silas can’t tell if he’s breathing. He struggles, sometimes, with how little it actually takes to kill a human being. Overkill, sometimes, but he’s never tried to tone it down.
“Asset!” Preach bellows, and Silas hooks his foot behind his ankle, sending him sprawling. Once he’s on the ground, Silas drives his heel down and right through the centre of his face. He hits concrete, and bone tears through his sock and bites open the bottom of his foot.
He’s rewarded with a knife between the ribs.
It’s whatever, it’s a knife to the ribs, it’s definitely not Silas’ first. But it hurts, of course it fuckin’ hurts, it hurts all the way through him and deep into his chest and he rips the knife out of his side with a roar. Rock, still standing close at his side, exhales an, “aw, fuck,” before Silas gives him back his knife. He brings it up, through the underside of his chin, into the roof of his mouth. Blood pours out of his face like a faucet had been turned on. He hits the ground with a noise like a splatter.
This time, he’s rewarded with a bullet to the face.
It isn’t lethal, but Silas is still shot in the face.
His cheekbone shatters on impact and he goes completely blind on his left side. For a second, for only a second, the world around him blurs completely, but it happens for a second too long. Silas sways, and when the vision clears in his right eye they’re all close, they’re all way too fuckin’ close.
“Back up,” he snarls, but then everything blurs again and their hands are on Wren and they’re trying to wrench him from his side.
“NO!” Silas roars.
“Silas!” Wren cries. He reaches for him, and Silas grabs him quickly by the hand.
While his arm is outstretched, Need strikes, and he breaks all the way through Silas’ elbow with a buck knife.
It crackles with pain for barely a moment before Silas stops feeling anything in his arm. It falls to his side, useless and limp, and Silas quickly reaches for Wren with his other arm but Silas thinks he might be losing a lot of blood and quickly isn’t quick enough.
Wren is hauled away as Silas is surrounded, guns aimed at all his most vital spots, fingers on triggers.
Wren fights, begs, struggles, but Tide and Vineyard make easy work of dragging him across the concrete. His wrists are tied behind his back, and when they drop him at Point’s feet, they drop him on his back, his hands trapped against the concrete. There’s something really helpless about it and it makes Silas really nauseous. The knife is still pierced through his elbow.
Point lifts his boot and presses it down against Wren’s throat, holding him there.
Silas doesn’t snarl so much as his chest makes some kind of noise, something low, like some kind of predatory animal. The barrel of a gun is hoisted, cold, against the nape of his neck, a warning.
“This is getting just fuckin’ ridiculous,” Point snaps at the room at large. “Ridiculous! All of this fuckin’ trouble! For some whore!” He looks down at Wren and tells him directly, “you are not worth all this fuckin’ trouble.”
Something akin to hatred knots in Silas’ chest, something akin to hatred but something so much stronger, something he doesn’t have the words to describe. It’s heavy, and it’s restless under his skin. The knife is still pierced through his elbow.
Point coils Wren’s braid around his fist and drags him over to Robin as Wren cries. Robin tries to protest, makes a hiccuping sort of sound, but he doesn’t speak. He probably can’t. He’s drowning.
“You people have been giving me a lot of trouble,” Point announces. He props Wren’s head up against Robin’s chest. “I’ve earned this.”
Wren sobs and it’s the single worst sound that Silas has ever heard. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget it. The knife is still pierced through his elbow.
“Please,” he begs, “please, please. Don’t do this. Please.”
Point grins at him. “You know how much I love it when you beg.” In a single, fluid motion, he hauls Wren’s joggers down his thighs.
The knife is still pierced through Silas’ elbow. He takes quick stock. He can still use one of his arms and he can still see from one of his eyes. He’s probably still at an advantage over a regular, human soldier.
Except Hal is swarmed, too. Not the same as Silas, because Hal’s a little more human than Silas, but he’s swarmed, and still, he shoves a soldier out of his way by the side of his head as he shouts, “you can’t do this!”
Point looks up quickly. He kind of scans the room before he settles on Hal. “Excuse me?”
“You can’t fuckin’ do this!” Hal cries.
“Stand down,” a soldier warns him and Hal pulls that guy’s knees out from under him.
“Are you fuckin’ serious?” He protests. “This is fucked up!”
Point looks down at Wren for a long time, who cries quietly and doesn’t look back. Finally, he leans over him, up to Robin, and pries his mouth open. Robin doesn’t fight him. He doesn’t even hiccup this time.
Point eases his tongue from his mouth and severs it with a flick of his wrist. Stepping over Wren and Robin, he sidles up to Hal, getting right up in his face. “Which one are you?”
“Singh,” Hal answers. He adds, mocking, “sir.”
Something flickers in Point’s jaw. “Singh,” he agrees. “They tell me you’re not very bright, so I will give you the benefit of the doubt. I will choose to believe it is ignorance and not defiance that has made you think you have any right to stand up to me or to tell me what I can’t do. You do not. I can do anything I’d like. I can do whatever I want to you people. Do I make myself clear?”
Hal doesn’t deign that with a response.
Point flicks Robin’s tongue into his face and bellows, “do I make myself clear?”
Hal doesn’t flinch, but he closes his eyes.
Point delights in it. “Soldier,” he says, and when Hal looks at him, he goes on, “you know to look at a superior when they’re talking to you.” He looks at Vineyard. “Both eyes. Left and right.”
Vineyard nods.
Hal says, “what?”
The swarm is back at him in a second and it’s bigger this time. They force Hal onto the ground, onto his back, they pin him there by his arms and his legs and his wrists and his chest and his chin. Tide holds his eyelids open.
Hal thrashes. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me? This is bullshit!”
“You should’ve known better than to misbehave,” Point says.
He hands Vineyard the same knife he’d used to amputate Robin’s tongue. Vineyard flips it over in his fist, and straddles Hal’s chest. Hal thrashes again, trying to throw him off. “Get the fuck off me! You can’t do this shit! This is fucked!”
“What did I just say?” Point snaps. He snaps his fingers, and Vineyard carves both of Hal’s eyeballs out of their sockets.
He screams the whole time.
He screams himself hoarse, and when Vineyard climbs off of him, when the swarm depletes, he’s a pile on the floor, head down, and Silas can’t tell if he’s still conscious.
“I am getting sick,” Point spits, “sick of the behaviour from this fuckin’ unit. You are livestock. You are property. You belong to me. You have no power here. And I’m delighted to let you know, livestock, that you aren’t even our best. You aren’t special. If you can’t learn to behave yourselves, you will all be put down, and our efforts will be relocated to another unit and you will not be missed. Except the girl,” he adds, mostly to Wren, standing over him again. He winks. “What a waste of such fuckable meat. We’ll keep her in the barracks until we get bored of her. She will be kept busy.”
Wren sobs and Silas’ fingers twitch. His arm is hot with bleeding.
Point crouches down above Wren again and makes a sound, a mock sigh. “I was really looking forward to fucking you while I cut his tongue out,” he says, pulling his joggers the rest of the way down, “and now I’m really disappointed. So you’re gonna have to make that up to me.”
Wren sobs again. His voice is trembling as he begs, “please, please. Please don’t do this. Please.”
“Be good,” Point tells him, and there isn’t even any mocking amusement in it. “I’m already disappointed. Don’t put me in a bad mood.”
“Please,” Wren sobs.
Point pulls him a little closer, pulls his head off of Robin’s chest. “Be a good girl,” he says. “I’m not asking.”
His hands find Wren’s waist and Wren wails. “Please.”
Something shifts in Point’s face. His bad mood. “Just be a good girl!” He cracks his fist into Wren’s face so hard that the back of Wren’s head ricochets off the pavement before he goes completely, unsettlingly still. His cheekbone is already bruised as Point snaps, “fuck sake.” With a grunt, he spits in Wren’s face. “Dumb bitch.” As he stands, he looks right at Silas. “Not as much fun fucking her when she’s not awake to fight me off.”
Silas is a violent person, but the kind of violence that Point stokes in him is something like nothing else Silas has ever experienced. It’s dizzying, not a thirst but a lust, and Silas doesn’t just want to kill him but he wants to eviscerate him.
He makes it half a step closer before the soldier standing closest, Vienna, lifts his gun and shoves the barrel tight against the bottom of Silas’ chin.
“Stand down.”
Silas doesn’t even have time to remove the knife from his arm. Silas grabs Vienna around the throat and crushes every bone in his neck with his other hand. He’s dead before he has time to react.
Two gunshots are the soundtrack to his body hitting the concrete. The pain registers a moment later.
It explodes through both of Seven’s kneecaps, one at a time, a white hot sort of pain that seeps into the marrow of his bones and hurts from the inside. He drops to his knees, and fire licks up into his hips, his chest, it churns his stomach with something hot and acidic that crawls up the back of his throat as he bellows.
Point lowers his handgun. “He told you to stand down.”
“Eat shit,” Silas seethes, and Point fires another shot into the already shattered plate of his right knee. The way the pain ripples through him knocks the wind out of him, and Silas groans through his teeth, breathless.
“Down, boy,” Point says. Silas snarls as he saunters closer, gun raised but almost mocking in its brandishing. “You embarrass yourself, you know,” he tells him. “Losing all this blood for the sake of the fucksleeve. This is a waste of your talents.”
Silas snorts at him. “Get fucked.”
It brings back Point’s grin, and he points at Wren’s limp body. “Like your little girlfriend’s going to be?”
Silas rips the knife out of his arm. He means to throw it, but he doesn’t get that far.
He gets shot in the face. Again.
It blows everything to darkness for a second and when Silas comes back to himself he’s on his back, looking up at Point, illuminated ominously by the fluorescent lights.
Point grins down at him again. “For constant belligerence,” he says, “left leg. Below the knee.” He holds out a hand, and Vineyard hands him an axe. “I’ll do the honours. Shame the girl isn’t conscious for this one.” He turns the axe in his hands, brandishing it dramatically before he hoists the end of it towards June.
“Tollier,” he says. “Any grand, heroic gestures for this one before I amputate his leg?”
June looks at Silas like she might try.
He shakes his head against the concrete.
She looks at him for as long as the moment will allow. Still, she doesn’t look away when she whispers, “no.”
“Hmm,” Point says. “Good girl.” He looks at her with an almost genuine approval. “Two fingers from your left hand for general insubordination,” he orders. “But I’ll let you pick which two fingers.”
Vineyard’s grin glints in the overhead lights.
Silas is sure June screams, but it sounds like his ears are full of water and he can’t hear much of anything else.
Point grins, wide and maniacal. It’s the most evil Silas has ever seen him look. “Brace yourself, big guy,” he says, and he leans in real close to make sure Silas can hear him. “This is really going to hurt.”
#on the serious tho should i try & start actually posting w a proper timeline ??? or could i just put together a timeline master list#there’s literally been no rhyme or reason for my drabble choices so far#i cannot stress enough though JUST HOW MANY DRABBLES OF THIS I HAVE#that’s why i hate posting & im still posting too much i just have TOO MUCH TO POST#there’s sooooooooooooo many horrible things that happen to these people to an almost soap opera degree#wait till you find out about the AUCTION :’)#human weapon whumpee#living weapon whumpee#whump#whump community#whump scenario#whump scenes#whump story#whump stuff#whump writing#whumpblr#whumpee#whumper#whump things#whump series#whump tag#whump prompt#whump tropes#whump problems#whump wip#whump blog#wren & silas
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once again i stress it, if you don't like what i write, then please kindly block me. no need to leave rude comments on my fics :) that's simply uncultured and unpleasant. thank you
#it’s stated in my rules that i write fem!reader only#this is why you should read rules first#weird thing is that the person knows i write fem reader yet still read my other fics only to put swear words there...#*sigh* people these days#—blog notice 📢
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i want to hear them beg and whimper
#for anyone wondering those handsome men are blade and jing yuan from honkai star rail#the game is coming out soon !!! 💗#i‘ll write for it for sure i‘m just thinking if i should do it on my main blog or make a side blog HMMMMM#because i mean genshin and star rail are both hoyo games so ig i could put it on my main ???#๑•ᴗ•๑ yoru approved'
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Mmm maybe there’s a psychological reason why I like vampires so much. Maybe it has something to do with isolation, poor social skills, and disordered eating. Perhaps it could also involve my horrible fear of time passing and my own impermanence, maybe just maybe the fact that my interest in vampire skews less towards ‘vampires are cool’ and more towards ‘I want to be a vampire’ says something about me.
Eh probably not
#vanpires#maybe I just have a biting kink.#maybe one of my biggest pics cravings has always been my own skin#perhaps I want to hide in the shadows and away from the rest of the world#I’m hated for not being human- for being a monster for hurting people- and not for things I can’t control#maybe I just want to be nocturnal#maybe vampires are cool#robin rambles#vent blog#tw ed mentioned#vampire kin#vampire aesthetic#augh I could probably write up a better sounding post if I put more than a milligram of thought into it#but rn yall get straight off the dome thoughts#I should finish Dracula#I absolutely refuse to read twilight tho
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so some people asked for a continuation of mermaid neuvillette fic. I still have no intention of turning it into an ongoing fic but I do have some ideas about the aftermath. I'll post the first half here and finish it tomorrow
tw: dark thoughts, controlling behavior
The wavering light overhead was dim and faint, more a memory than anything substantial. And yet you were craning your head towards it with all your might, like a sunflower seeking the sun.
Your arm, despite knowing full well how futile it was, reached up and tried to grasp it in your hands. Of course, nothing except for water slipped through your fingers.
Water–you’ve become so sick of that substance.
You closed your eyes and tried your best to imagine you were somewhere else. Anywhere else. A place where you were surrounded by weightless air. Your small, bare, but familiar apartment. The dull, sterile atmosphere of your job. The cozy and warm house where you met your friends in person for the first time–
That last memory sent a bolt of pain through your head, and you shook your head to get rid of it. Thinking about those people would make you fall into another spiral of depression that you might not ever be able to get out of.
The flickering light above you seemed to dart away, as though it was scared off by the sudden change in your mood. You tried to chase after it, but you couldn’t move from your spot. For a split second, you wondered if there was something weighing down your legs, and then you remembered.
You tried not to look down at the red, glittering appendage that now consisted your entire lower body.
The waters shifted behind you. You knew who was there even before turning around.
“My love, have I not told you over and over again that you must not look up at the surface? You would only strain your neck.”
The deep, smooth voice of Neuvillette, your mate–just thinking about that word made you feel ill– no longer sounded in your head, but reverberated straight into your ears. In some ways, that was a good thing. You didn’t know what you would do if he still spoke into your head.
You ignored his endearment of “my love.” You were in no mood to argue with him today, not to mention how sore your throat still was from your last yelling match with him. Well, it was more like you yelled at him while he simply stared at you blankly with his violet eyes, like it was just another tantrum you were having.
“Don’t you mean that you don’t like it when I do it?” you muttered. You let the unspoken reason hang between the two of you. Because you don’t like me clinging to my past life and rejecting you.
Neuvillette either didn’t hear your mutter or let it pass. His hand circled around your arm. “Come, my love. Let us return. I’ve prepared a wonderful surprise for you.”
You let him lead you by the arm. You were still unused to swimming with a tail and kept lagging behind, but he never hurried you. He only gave you gentle encouragements like “Yes, my dear, keep moving your tail like that” and “You’ve become so much better at swimming in such a short time” and helped you along.
He had been like this during your earliest days as a mermaid as well, when he was teaching you how to swim. Endlessly patient, endlessly understanding. You hated it. You hated the fond look in his eyes as he watched you struggle with the most basic skills that even a mermaid infant could grasp easily. You hated the firm grip of his hands on your shoulders and waist (although you quickly learned to put up with it, compared to the humiliation of crawling in the sand). And you especially hated his warm breath in your ear as he murmured instructions to you.
All of it was a reminder of the fact that you were utterly dependent on him now.
Sometimes, you wished he would just give up on you and leave you drifting in the depths alone. At least that was something you were used to for all your life: depending on yourself because there was no other choice. You wondered why he didn’t. Surely even someone like him couldn’t endure constant rejection and hatred from someone he supposedly loved.
You never asked him that question. You didn’t think he would understand anyway.
His long hair billowed out and tickled your back as the two of you swam back to your abode.
#neuvillette x reader#yandere neuvillette x reader#my fics#i just realized that i should probably put some of my actual writing on my writing blog
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sooo i decided to give it a try at countryhumans/humanization of pp countries
(I hope i did that right) (definitly somewhat inspired by kajenus (i am not immune to propaganda hjhgjjh))
also some silly sketches and a lil explanation for em:
so arstotzka kinda can fly, its just never in a way he wants/expects
when he gets angry, he gets more similar to a bird (maybe not that cartoonish, more similar to an actual bird he's based on)
(this kinda connects to my bigger idea for them, but for now im not so conviced/have any strong ideas for these 2 with it)
kolechia used to have a braid, but doesnt now for reasons. the cut isn't clean
also some altrenative outfits/just wanted to draw them again
tw for blood
#papers please#tw blood under the read more#im doing this#cause i was listening to some stuff#and thought abt putting arstotzka through an angst tumbler#with kolechia in there too#tho idk how quick i will be at it june seems stacked#not tagging plp cause i dont want to bother or somthin#also drawing expressions my hated#definitely did not spend way more then reasonable redrawing them#nuh uh#anyway back to writing#also starting a new tag cause hfdhifdf ->#art that should definitely not be on this blog cause u already have an art blog u insecure
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Fic masterlist
(this is mainly just something for me to link in my writing blog's pinned, feel free to ignore)
My AO3 - just_so_tired
Fandoms:
Shoot From the Hip (improv group)
Hell Followed With Us (Andrew Joseph White book)
Fics:
SFTH
you'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling - the unrelenting aubergine - derek/titch - backstory for how they met and how their relationship develops - my current magnum opus - complete - 9/9 chapters
Beetroot Decides - the unrelenting aubergine/crossover - fluff oneshot based on the podcast stream - derek/titch, the two of them watching andre beetroot's late night show
HFWU
"The Truth" by High Reverend Father Ian Clevenger - my version of the speech/book referenced in the beginning of chapter quotes in the book
Tags:
My SFTH fics are tagged with #shoot from the fic
#this post will be updated as i post more but i realised thatt i should probably put all my fics in one place#for the purposes of making things clear on my writing blog#but this is an idiot post for tagging reasons and bc i only post about my fics on this blog#also the link to the tag probably wont work and i apologise in advance#sfth#hfwu#shoot from the fic
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#i love you all so so so much but i genuinely feel sometimes like i'm writing into the wind???#it's no one's fault i promise you're all amazing and wonderful and i love you#i just don't know what i'm doing wrong??? i feel like my writing doesn't escape my little blog bubble#and i hate even discussing this rn i'm so embarrassed! but it sucks because i know how much effort i put into writing#and i know how original my concepts are i KNOW that i create whole worlds and they're interesting and vibrant#but i feel like unless i'm writing to a specific trope or adding pictures when i share things here only my baby die hards (ilu all) read#SHOULD i be adding pictures to my little links??? is that weird and pathetic to start doing now? idk i'm genuinely asking#and i've been in my head lately about something else that i think i'm reading too much into. but. idk.
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Joshua supremacy 😭😭😭 I’m so soft for him. Just let me be his little princess. He can make all the rules idc
omg he’s so gorgeous and like the thing about him—at least in my opinion/my own personal interpretation—is that while he is genuinely so sweet (almost sickly so at times!) and so kindhearted and so so tender, he is also so used to being served and so used to being the Boss, the undying’s precious phoenix prince, the king of everything, and it comes out in these tiny little wisps and hints in certain interactions; a vaguely bratty comment, a gentle yet vehement assertion, a soft chuckle beneath a gloved hand……..
all of this is to say, i think he’d fucking love to have a partner who lives to serve him and be his precious lil doll (to the point where he may even feel guilty about how much he loves it, because he knows it isn’t necessarily right, but he just can’t help but feel this way about you <3). he wouldn’t push it on you, and he wouldn’t hold you back from doing things you wanted to, either, if he deems them good or beneficial for you—he’d definitely encourage you to do things if they were things you wanted to do/made you happy—but oh, to have a baby who’s syrupy sweet and devotedly doting and hangs on his every word; to have a precious lil princess who gazes up at him as if he’s painted the entire night sky by hand, speckled the stars across the atmosphere and carved out the moon himself; to have a soft sweetheart who clings to him in every way possible, hands curled around his fingers or wrists or biceps when he takes you for a walk in the gardens or when you sit down for a meal (always beside him, never across from him, protocol be damned), who snuggles in his lap or straddles his thighs and nuzzles their sugar-sweet lips against his neck or collarbone or jaw, who obediently never leaves his side unless it is absolutely necessary <33333 that sounds like a perfect dream, a paradise, to him <3
#i’m in love i’m in LOVEEEEEE#i’m writing a small piece of prose for him right now that’s mostly angsty but does focus on his bratty bossy tendencies hehehehehehe#i am also writing something i promised myself i wouldn’t write for this blog HAHAHA and in Clari Tradition i kind of want it to be the very#first piece i post but it’s also getting quite long so we’ll have to see#anyway i blame jote for like;;;;; half of this behaviour#joshua could murder an entire village in cold blood just because ‘he felt like it’ and girlie would be like ‘excellent job your grace’#pls gtfo outta here~#this post is me beginning my yandere joshua campaign HAHAHAHA#hope ur having an awesome day anon!! <3#stay safe n drink water okay!!!#inky.bb#inky.joshua#clari gets mail#shOULD I PUT THIS IN THE TAGS???????#maybe :o#joshua rosfield x reader#omg (^q^)
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i just found out bnha ended through one piece cover art and subsequently have fallen down a rabbit hole so poll
context i watched the anime up to where bakugou got kidnapped but stopped caring when i was in like hs and before i discovered my One True Love One Piece and then just checked in with the manga every once in a while to see what was up so i know some major plot points and the ending which hurt my soul so i need to figure out what the fuck happened in between all that so i can analyze it for funsies instead of subjecting My Beloved to my thoughts about this and various other medias that she has no understanding of
anyway. thoughts? no nuance answer u get two choices
#everyone say thank you Sarah my Beloved because sarah has been saving all of you from my rants and analysis about all my non op interests in#the form of patiently waiting on ft while i share my screen with her and show her various deatiny characters and loz characters and so forth#bnha tho… i gotta put my thoughts down in essay form even tho i have a luffy is definitely not kind essay i should be writing witj my Belove#instead BUT THE THOUGJTS THEY R TRAPPING ME#anyway. ANYWAY. BNHA#BNHA#mha#whirlywhat#do inhave a poll tag i CANNOT remember#hm. anyway also im usinh bnha for tag organization#on the blog#ty!!!#also hi sarah i love u sarah sarah is the best
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Every time I see imagines blogs in other fandoms they have like
Little pics and colored text and shit
Meanwhile I just spit words on to a plate and leave it out back in an alleyway for raccoons
#idk#SHOULD I be attempting to pretty up my blog??#i feel like that'd just slow shit down ya know??#also id feel like a fool if i put a bunch of pretty sparkles on my page then you click read more and it's a bunch of typos#not saying other people have typos I'm saying i always have typos#my shit is unedited#cause editing sometimes takes me just as long as writing and then i second gues myself all the way through
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Honestly the roleplay blogs are stronger than I am because if I saw a post where people were saying my blog was annoying and calling me corny I would jump in a large pit and rot away
#I don't think I should tag this one#Okay I've typed my emotions out. For a more normal way to put it: While it makes sense to be upset#best move. I'm sure the blogs in question would be happier if you just told them about the roleplay guidelines than if you made a post#where multiple people call them annoying. Like can you imagine if someone said that about a writing blog#'So sick of x reader fics in the tag I don't want to see that and they're all so out of character' What a dick move.#It is a different case with rp blogs I'll give you that. But I think the principle of the matter stands#unless it doesn't and everything I said is stupid#original ramble below I was so mad for some reason. im not mad at anyone really. everyone is cool. love you guys#I get why people are unhappy that theyre clogging up the tags#like despiar dev said not to and people want to see content of despiar thyme not just ask blogs#I saw someone say they just blocked them and like. I get why. however. people do not know everything#but my brother in Christ you're not helping the matter!!!!!!!!1 send them a screenshot of what despiar dev said!!!!help other people!!!!!!!#just politely tell them instead of weirdly vague posting it helps everyone!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! maybe they just don't know#misspelling the tags so no one finds this post. I will actually be so pissed if people find this and r upset#Oh I'm sorry THIS is the post you're noticing? You have followed me for over six months and you haven't said anything about any other negat#negative feelings i've expressed. I see how it is#I wish the drdt confessions account was still open but whatever fucking whatever#sui mention#personal vent#whatever I guess
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thinking about shauna's near death dream and the baby cannibalism in it and how cannibalism is changing in shauna's mind
in the first season we see her giving birth - with jackie by her side - to a roasted chicken and eating it immediately after. the dream is as disturbing as it is ridiculous. and it makes sense! shauna doesn't have a... personal experience with cannibalism yet
the first real act of cannibalism is also the only one (not counting the pilot) thus far that isn’t coated in a dreamlike state. shauna is alone, there is no one and nothing to hide from. it's an act of grief and shame but also of pure instinct, there is no thought behind it. just an urge and a need
the second in contrast is something they all take part in, it's in the middle of the night and they're all in this dreamlike haze, imagining something far different from the animalistic ripping of flesh. shauna tells them [jackie] wants them to but immediately in the aftermath lottie voices what was on everyone's mind. that if that's true to any extent it could only be true for shauna and the baby but not all of them
so with that in mind it's fascinating that the second dream shauna has about her baby being cannibalized it's bloody and she takes no part in it. she's horrified by it and it's a loss. and i think there are a few reasons for it. shauna has been feeling alienated and othered by everyone's treatment of her pregnancy and baby. if we think of cannibalism in a more symbolic way then the same way shauna already cannibalized jackie before jackie even died the entire group cannibalized the baby before it was born. but another layer to this is how cannibalism is - perhaps for the first time - shown as something horrifying and something symbolizing a brutal loss. and i think it's illuminating how that seems to be what cannibalism became in shauna's mind. where it was absurd and divorced from reality in the first season it's now gruesome and bloody. it's real and it's horrifying because it's an end
shauna spent weeks after jackie's death in a denial so profound she conjured up a jackie she could talk to. took care of her body, put makeup on her face. but in the aftermath of "edible complex" the one thing that's really felt is the absence. yes this is what shauna wanted, i'd argue not for the rest of them but for herself, and yet it's a brutal awakening. a loss that can no longer be ignored
#if this is incoherent i blame it on writing this at work#people have absolutely no sympathy STOP calling and emailing i am THINKING abt cannibalism i have no time for this#anyways The Four Different Cannibalisms of s2 have been bouncing around my skull#and i needed to finally put it into words#i should have a tag for when i decide to make long posts abt yj cannibalism#yellowjackets spoilers#yellowjackets blogging
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