#nefarious wips

[slabmaxxing]

im gonna screeaaaaam fuck this guy

[1000dactyls]

having a lot of fun writing this comic but wow are my wrists and fingers getting cramped 😵‍💫 not to mention lining this… so for now you just get the skeleton of it all

but here’s a sneak peek at a conversation between hiccup and astrid — about names, traditions, and things they share :)

[sharpedgedfool]

spoilers but the winter fae are a little fucked up <3

[pleasureprose]

Sometimes You Hear the Bullet

Thoughts under the cut, and spoilers for this episode if you have not seen it:

I think SYHTB is overall a very tightly written and impactful episode with a lot of complexity. One of its more prominent aspects to me is in the element of contrast, which is what I'll try to expand on here. In trying to tease apart what it's really trying to say, my initial feeling is that this episode isn't as directly subversive as it felt on first watch, only because I don't quite see where there was any thread that might reflect on the situation more critically than just the stark fact of war being unpleasant for its participants (and it bears repeating, its US participants in particular) which while not un-subversive does tend to feel a little directionless as a criticism. On further reflection I do think there's a little more to it--there is the strong implication that patriotic sentiment is both lethal, in the case of Tommy Gillis, and a childlike fantasy, in the case of the child marine.

I'm not entirely convinced this interpretation is the one intended, but I do think it strengthens the episode to read it this way. Gillis' characterization to me stands out as a bit conflicted. We see this in his first few lines. I'd initially considered one of his first statements, i.e. that he's one of the good guys to be an isolated incident of writing that hit a bump in an otherwise pretty solid script. On reconsideration--it's the statement that sealed his fate.

Although it seems clear on rewatch that he's saying it a bit tongue-in-cheek, I think (and this is one of his contradictions) that he doesn't entirely disbelieve it, based on his reasoning that a front-line perspective is the best way to tell it like it is. And to be clear I don't think he's straightforwardly patriotic--he stands apart from Walter and especially Margaret/Frank--but his view seems like one that sort of flatters itself. He signed up, and no matter his good intentions he will be materially required to do the job he signed up for. He's not an exception to it just because he's sad about it, and choosing to contribute to the system you object to in order to object to it doesn't seem like much of an objection. 'One of the good guys' is a statement that can't stand uncontested, and every other character in this episode that expresses similar views is in some way thwarted by the end. (Walter is caught in his lie and sent home. Frank ends up with an embarrassing injury and does not receive his purple heart.) The moment he glibly expresses this patriotic remark is the moment his death is unavoidable, which is to say, in the convention of tragedy, he is dead at introduction.

As to his conflicting characterization, he seems to be caught between the enlisted position he's writing from, which as subversive as any negative reflection on warfare would have been at the time still narrows the reality of war to US suffering, and the internal world logic that says he's doing this for the opposite reason, to thwart expectations and undermine patriotism. This gets addressed a little with Hawkeye's line 'I thought you were a commie' and Gillis' answer--that he is fighting to keep the world free from himself--is a bit unconvincing, at least to me. Doylist explanation, this was perhaps less of a discrepancy to the audience of the time, and there was a limited amount of time to introduce a one-off character in dialogue. And the writers just needed him to be in a position where he could die on Hawkeye's table. But I think the contrast is the key to why this works.

Again, he is a character that for a variety of reasons comes across as a bit ambiguous. He's wrapped in a lot of interesting inconsistency. Some of this may be coincidental or inadvertent, but it really works to the advantage of a larger point, i.e. reflecting back the intrinsic contradiction in the patriotic, nationalistic, militaristic system in which he resides. It's interesting that in an episode where there's already a lot of age bluffing from a sixteen year old pretending eighteen, Gillis' actor seems a fair bit older than the role.

He contradicts himself not just ideologically but physically, too. He's a self-proclaimed communist and one of the good guys, a writer with an educated journalistic background who should easily have been a correspondent who is instead enlisted as a soldier, whose very first on-screen act is to lie down, cover his face, and pretend he is someone else. And that first appearance or lack thereof really is reflective of if not predictive of his last. It invokes the future event of his death, from his posture--on his back, with a symbolic mask over his face (in the future event a medical mask)--even down to what he says, which is that he needs Dr. Pierce. He embodies it. Covering his eyes, in particular, is a piece of symbolism that has roots in tragedy and can be interpreted as lack of foresight, lack of insight, and the interruption and/or acquisition of face/mask/identity as an indicator of character death.

Speaking of interruption, there is a lot of it. This episode is full of in-concluded acts--Frank and Margaret are interrupted in the opening when their date goes awry, Hawkeye is continually interrupted so to speak in medias res to comedic effect, the comic effect of this sequence is itself interrupted by the sudden intrusion of the stark reality of war. There is interruption of life, the interruption of the unfinished war novel Gillis was writing, the interruption of interruption. The framing is that of an inability to reach achievement, that is, that there is no place for satisfactory achievement in this environment on either small or large scale. It undercuts war as a means to an end by depicting it as having no natural end. It is endless, impotent.

Back to contradiction--both the first and the last time Gillis appears on screen his posture is across the horizontal plane. For what it's worth in terms of contradiction, his position both times is in visual contrast to Hawkeye's upright position, and in a broader sense it introduces some visual contrast between scenes--his horizontal position as signifying death vs Hawkeye's horizontal position signifying life viz. sex. And then there's Frank, as well as Walter, each of whose horizontal positions are centered around not being what they seem.

And one last contradiction, the eponymous one: In his final lines, Gillis reveals that the title of his book (and the title of this episode), which exists to contradict expectation, was again contradicted by his experience. You Never Hear the Bullet transforms, unexpectedly, in his final moments, losing (as he is losing his own life) the Never that was so crucial to its stated purpose. It transforms the nature of its contradiction, too, from one with authorial purpose to one without. And the You addressed in the title loses a word for their (Your) experience, reducing literally the verbal components of that experience, away from voice, away from agency.

Some of these contradictions may or may not be this clever by design, but in function, fortunately for my reading it all fits in right alongside the kid lying about his age and Frank/Margaret lying and exaggerating their position, as well as the alteration of book title, in order to strengthen the idea that war, patriotism, nationalism, imperialism and everything including the systems they uphold are foremost a complete contradiction, and a deadly one.

[trivia-yandere]

What type of yandere do you like writing? And out of all the fics that has been written which is your top 3 faves?

hmm i wrote a lot of yandere lol. i tend to like the “obsessed/possessive” type of yandere - it can lead to the yandere ruining the lives of the people around the mc (like m.i.l.f/the other woman/one way or another) or ruining the life of the mc directly in the name of “love” (like beast of busan/visions/sentient, etc)

my top 3 faves would have to be beast of busan, sentient, cruel intentions 🫶🏽

[nukacourier]

Shared this with a friend the other day and figured I'd post it here. Yeah he's naked. She likes being naked sometimes. Still wondering if I should make him covered in blood or not

[not-krys]

[Repost] Deep in Thought - Abby & Mozart

Part of this set of WIP Wednesdays!

It's only recently occurred to me that Abby and Mozart are sort of birthday siblings (her's is the 24th of January, while Mozart's is the 27th), so in celebration of this realization, I wanted to write a little something for the two of them. Fun fact! Before deciding to want to make her an artist, for her initial concept, I had Abby be a singer instead, inspired by a threesome story in-game with Mozart and Jean. The idea fell through in the end, but I like to keep the Abby is a singer on the backburner of ideas for her and also why she and Mozart somewhat get along, even if it might just be in the background.

Raw, unedited writing down below. Abby is a lil self-deprecating as she has little confidence in herself and her thoughts will reflect that. Also my first time writing Mozart, so his character might be little off. I also copy-pasted the lyrics to the song Abby sings from a lyrics website and the song is in German, which is another language I don't speak, but they are available to look up if you want.

-----

He was behind me. He was behind me again! The silence from the music room should have been my tip that something was up, but I thought he'd given up by now!

"You." His cold voice startled me, my hands squeezing the poor broom handle to the point of choking, it felt like.

Slowly, very slowly, I turned around to face Mozart, his arms crossed and his elegant brows furrowed. I think even his mole was judging me with the way he was staring.

"Y-yes?" Why did my voice have to come out like that!?

"Music room. Now."

What have I done to deserve this!?

My shoulders shook, feebly holding up my broom taller.

"I-I have chores to-"

"Do them later." Mozart was firm! "Tell Sebastian that I needed you for something."

"Y-yes, sir." I said meekly.

Mozart turned on his heel and headed back into the music room. I followed behind him, trying to keep my movements as quiet as I could. He's told me before that he thought I was loud, and, not wanting to irritate him further, I did my best to be silent. It was easy on the carpeted floor of the hallway, but marble floor of the music room, with no rugs to muffle sound? I felt exposed in a different sort of way, the green walls even feeling intimidating.

Mozart sat at the piano bench, an elegant piece made of white wood and gold accents, flipping out his coat tails to sit more comfortably.

"Leave your broom by the door."

I nodded, setting my once close companion against the door's frame, cradling it with my hands.

"Come closer."

I shuffled closer to the piano, my steps unbearably loud in this space. Was my heart as loud in this room as it was in my ears, I wondered. It wouldn't be surprising if Mozart said I was being loud again and it was my own racing heart he was hearing.

"You were singing the other day while you were cleaning in the room next door to the music room."

He could hear that!?

"S-sorry if I disturbed-"

"It was a song I wrote. Long ago."

His fingers glided gracefully across the keys, playing a familiar melody.

"Y-yes. An Chloë. You wrote it inspired by the poem, right?"

"Correct." He continued to play, seeming to get lost in thought. "Where did you learn it?"

"My auntie." I started, but corrected myself. "Well, one of her previous girlfriends taught it to me when I was young. She always sang it beautifully and I wanted to learn it too, despite knowing no German then."

She was nice, from what I remember of her, Auntie's German girlfriend. Father didn't like her and often got into arguments with Auntie over her. I was really young at the time, so I don't remember exactly what became of her, but I didn't see her after a time and I remembered missing her when she went away.

"Sing it again."

"E-excuse me?!" Say what now?

"Sing it." He repeated, starting the melody over as if it was looping, it was that smooth of a transition.

"I-"

He glanced back my way, as if to say he's not repeating it a third time.

With a brief pause in the music to signal my cue, I took a breath and closed my eyes, praying that whatever came out didn't sound like a screeching cat.

"Wenn die Lieb' aus deinen blauen, Hellen, offnen Augen sieht…"

It was as if a spell was taking over me, remembering a simpler time with Auntie and her German girlfriend at the time. I felt calmer. I know I was butchering the German pronunciation, horribly so, I'm sure. Mozart didn't stop playing though, nor did he say anything to correct me. I tapped my fingers against my leg to keep time, to keep from intruding on the song any more than I already was.

When the song ended, the room was deathly silent.

Mozart, for the first time I've seen him doing it, closed the lid across the keys and stood up.

"Ugh, noisy."

I froze and bit my lip. He was the one who asked (okay, he demanded!) that I come with him here, so  what was the point in-

Then, I heard it.

Applause.

One set of hands at first, then two, three, four more. The more clapping I heard, the redder my cheeks became.

"You're all lurking." Mozart said, irritated. "Move."

I caught eyes with Le Comte standing in the doorway, along with Napoleon, Vincent, Theo, Arthur, Issac, Dazai, and Sebastian all gathered behind him. Le Comte was the last to stop his clapping.

"My, what a lovely performance." He said, his entrance allowing the others to come into the music room as well. I could see the ends of Leonardo's overcoat sleeves sitting just off of the door, while Jean was leaning against the far window with his arms crossed in the hallway.

"You did well, Nunuche." Napoleon squeezed my shoulder, smiling proudly.

"Well, who knew our little dove could sing like that?" Arthur tapped my other shoulder while Theo ruffled my hair.

With all of the compliments I was receiving, my desire to crawl into a pit and hide for eternity grew. Mozart huffed as he stood at the doorway.

"Should have shut the door." he grumbled as we walked down the hallway, kicking Leonardo's coat sleeve out of his way.

[owlcryptid]

[sanguinarysanguinity]

FotH x DL!

Thank you for the ask! And my apologies for the delay, it has been a difficult week.

Flight of the Heron x Dangerous Liaisons!

~

I. The Marquise de Merteuil to the Vicomte de Valmont, Paris

So, my dear Vicomte, you have discovered my beautiful young Scotsman -- it was only a matter of time. You are not so discreet as you believe yourself. Only your reputation as a seducer of women keeps others from seeing how you drool over him. I assure you, however, he has eyes for none but his wife. He is a sad bore on the subject; not even his Beauty excuses such ill manners. It is a pity to see a pleasing form wasted on a wife, is it not? Such conquests could be his, and yet he is nought but a laughingstock at Court.

As you will be, if you continue to be so obvious. Take this advice in the spirit in which it is offered: desist, before you make a fool of yourself over him. If you do not have a care, not even your reputation with women will save you. 

II. The Vicomte De Valmont to the Marquise de Merteuil, Paris

My dear Marquise, your advice in this, as in all things, is treasured beyond jewels; you have only to speak, and I attend.

The Scotsman is beautiful indeed! I should have known he would catch the eye of such an appreciator of Beauty as you. One might think that a limp -- acquired, he tells me, from a wound sustained on the battlefield -- would mar such perfection, but I find it much like a beauty mark:  an asymmetry that heightens the sublimity of all the rest. One hopes it gives him no grief in bed! But if it does, no doubt an experienced teacher, such as yourself, or even I, could show him how to please a lover in spite of it. But I trust his disability does not trouble him overmuch; such a splendid figure no doubt serves him well, in bed or out.

But I must quibble on one point: I was not aware this beautiful young Scotsman is yours. Indeed, if he can speak only of his wife, I fear he is not yours quite yet! It seems you are as frustrated as I. Perhaps an alliance is called for? We may together succeed where each individually has failed. I confess, the only thing that appeals more to me than bringing him to bed and teaching him better pleasures than a wife, is to bring him to our bed to teach him the same.

Do you agree?

[soundsofastar]

hello chat

[slabmaxxing]

what is the point of a red background if youre just gonna paint over it (my secret for a slighht red hue)

[nyxpheros]

Soon. 👁👁

[kohakhearts]

ive been fleshing out my timeskip thoughts. this is all ive got. think recent college graduate and his fucked up little cat (who. goes to work with him)

bonus source of hehe ditto:

get it. like. tamago. time-ago. yeah. ok i’ll see myself out

[oorangesoda]

g-gulp

[resinixupi]

I could NOT resist taking a few test pics of the husbands with this floaty unfinished bastard 😭💕💙💚💙💚💙

[datastate]

what even is his problem