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fallendev0tionvn · 3 months ago

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Im slow.. when it comes to lore of Clive lmao but hey its interesting, so may i ask what's Nietzsche philosophy.. so like i can watch his philosophy, so i can understand! :D

i've been stalking your account to understand Clive but I just realize i am slow when it comes to lore LMAOO, oneee... question that is a Slight NSFW (Maybe..?), is Clive gentle when it comes of Him and MC do it for a first time?

(i just realized i change topic to add one question which is not related to Clive's lore :P)

I'll answer the second question first, Clive is always gentle! He only wants to bring you pleasure, not pain. The only time he gets a little rough is when he's feeling jealous🏃‍♀️.

ANYWAY.

I'm SORRY for the person I'm about to become, but get ready for a LONG yapping session (I was Dostoevskij in my past life) that probably won't make sense (keep in mind that I wanted to be either a comic artist, a psychologist or a philosophy professor...explains a lot). Half of this is from my notes when I was studying for my graduation exam💀

First of all Nietzsche is one of the most misunderstood philosophers. Why? He's either "idolized" by those red pill/looksmaxxing guys without realizing that he actually goes against their morals, or edgy wannabe "nihilists" for the quote "God is dead." (Nihilism is a form of extreme pessimism, in simple terms, it's the belief that there's no true meaning in life, nothing can be known or communicated. But if Nietzsche is telling you to destroy the old meanings of life TO create your own instead of listening to what others say, would he still be considered a nihilist? Sure, active nihilism is a thing- but in my opinion he is NOT a nihilist).

His philosophy has also been used historically for the worst things that I won't even mention. Why? his sister edited some of his last unfinished works based on HER own beliefs when he ended up in the asylum. Many think he was a "....", when- let's be real and study a bit of history- if Nietzsche's mental health deteriorated the year THAT political figure was born (1889), how could he possibly be associated with him? Literally, tf.

The reason for this is because I think many don't read or study his philosophy in the correct order, nor do they know the timeline of his ideas.

To understand the concept of the "Übermensch", you have to start from the very beginning, when he first mentions the Dionysian and Apollonian spirits- the übermensch is supposed to bring back the rebirth of the "tragic spirit". (Übermensch= overman, the highest version of oneself a person can become, the "better" version of you, basically).

What key concepts did I take inspiration from? (I say inspiration because not everything is directly related to Nietzsche, I started from his main concepts to create characters, lore etc.)

ETERNAL RETURN:

(Bad ending: The cycle ends here)

See Clive's necklace? The symbol on his bicep and the main menu? The ouroboros.

It's such a deep concept and it asks: "What if every moment of your life had to repeat itself endlessly, in the exact same way, forever?"

This means everything, every pain, every joy, every regret, would return again and again and again. This NOT about whether it's scientifically true, we don't know if we're destined to relive the same life after death. It's a thought experiment, a way to ask yourself "would I still want to live my life if I knew I'd relive my worst moments forever? How would I act?"

If your answer is no, you're not affirming your existence. If yes, you're embracing life fully. In a way, you'd try to be more yourself and live with fewer regrets, right?

DIONYSIAN VS APOLLONIAN:

(The intro of the game, Silas and Clive's conversation)

To simplify it: Think of the two hemispheres of the brain.

Right brain = Dionysian (chaos, passion, music, imagination, intuition, emotion). This side is emotional, creative, raw, deeply human. It's the spirit Nietzsche believed humanity lost.

Left brain = Apollonian (logic, structure, rules, order). This side is rational, clear, less human.

Why did Nietzsche use greek gods to describe this? Because he rejected the "classical and elegant" image of Greece we learn about in school. To him, archaic Greece was the perfect society because it embraced chaos, suffering, and the tragic. (That's why I added greek mythology :3)

He also saw greek tragedy (a form of ancient drama/theatre that expresses human suffering, fate, and moral conflict) as the perfect fusion of the Apollonian and Dionysian. This fusion created a form of art that embraced life in all its beauty and suffering.

With Socrates (ancient greek philosopher), the Dionysian spirit was killed. We began to exalt reason over everything, meaning everything had to be explained, justified, or made logical. This made humanity obsessed with truth and control, disconnecting us from the fullness of life.

"And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music."

Clive tried to force himself to lean more towards the Apollonian, he suppressed his emotions, tried to follow "moral rules", and tried to look "normal".

To explain the change between his younger self and current self there's an iconic quote:

"Become who you are" In the sense that in life, we constantly follow models that are necessary- because we grow through imitation. Children grow by watching, by imitating. But then, we must detach from this imitation and become who we truly are, a process of self reckoning.

After his "death", Clive starts being himself. There's a balance now, but you can still influence him to lean more towards his Dionysian or Apollonian side.

To live a full, healthy life, we need to embrace both sides:

"The tree that grows to heaven must send its roots to hell."

GOD IS DEAD:

(Who helped Clive?)

Nietzsche's most misunderstood quote.

Saying "God is dead", as he writes, implies that God once existed, or at least, that he was once central to the way humans explained the world. After all, only something that has existed can die; things that have never existed don't die. That's why Nietzsche has this declaration spoken not by an atheist, but by a madman. The atheist and the believer ARE part of the same system aren't they? One says "yes", the other says "no", but they're both within the same structure of thought, a world where God is STILL a reference point.

The madman on the other hand, speaks from outside that system. When he says "God is dead", he's not just denying the existence of God- he's saying that the world is no longer ORGANIZED around God. There was a time when everything was explained through God, when God gave order and meaning to existence. But today, that's no longer the case.

We must understand that Nietzsche, often read in an oracular and overly dramatic way, is actually a profundly coherent philosopher. His thinking is rigorous; If churches are now empty, if they became museums, tombs for god (visiting them for the "Affreschi", example: "La cappella sistina"), it's because he is dead. We killed him, or more precisely, we forgot him- because already with the scientific revolution, and even earlier with Renaissance, man placed himself at the center. We no longer live in a world explained through God, but through human reason, science and self determination. (That's why I chose literally the "forgotten God" from greek mythology. If you figure out who he is, you'll learn he actually died.)

Now if you want to learn more about Nietzsche:

His philosophy goes through THREE major phases;

- The youthful phase: Influenced by Schopenhauer (another amazing philosopher, highly recommend reading about him too), celebrated ancient greece, wrote "The Birth of Tragedy", Introduced the Apollonian and Dionysian spirits.

- Enlightment phase: Distanced himself from religion and idealism, embraced critical thinking, dismantled traditional values, wrote "Human, All Too Human".

- Mature phase: Developed his core concepts -> eternal return, übermensch, death of god, wrote "Thus Spoke Zarathustra" "On the genealogy of Morality" "Ecce Homo"

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starlightwoofwoof · 2 months ago

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welcome back to

🪞💖✨ Perfect Yap Session Part 2 ✨💖🪞

not sure if I’m gonna make this a series cause y’know, there’s only so much to say about Perfect but yeah lol

anywayyyyy here’s where I just talk about random things about The Polished Perfectionist (akuma! Glisten) (or just ‘Perfect’ for short, as you guys know-)

okay, first of all, uhhhhhh

His voice!! Now, I don’t really have a specific voice claim for Glisten (because I’m terrible at voice claims because I mostly can’t imagine characters’ voices in my head, if they don’t have them) but if I can describe Perfect’s voice- uhhhh

just, like, imagine your voice claim for Glisten, and put them in a cave

Perfect’s voice is basically just Glisten’s but a lot more “echoey”, bold, and y’know, evil

not sure how to describe it other than that but yeah

anyway, next, uh-

who likes non-canon to the AU scenarios??? ME ‼️‼️‼️

so, something I’ve been thinking about for a little bit

what if Perfect won?

What if Perfect caused everyone to only see visions of their biggest insecurities, stole the Ladybug Miraculous, gave it to Allureium and then they went on to try to find the other Miraculouses?

or even worse

What if Perfect gave Allureium the Ladybug Miraculous, and he figured he didn’t need Perfect anymore? What if Allureium just turned Perfect back to Glisten and he had to witness everything he had done? What if he lost his mind with guilt and loneliness?

anyway

on a, uh, lighter note, I kinda wanna talk about the fact that, y’know, this AU takes place in the cartoon

I kinda like to think Perfect’s episode aired right in the middle of the series. Both to build up Glisten’s character and to have him enough time for his character arc after the incident

Also I like to think after he turned into Ouroboros and got over Perfect, he started wearing pink makeup again, and even more often than before :3

okay one more thing for now, I kinda wanna talk about some Reflective Detective stuff-

I have thought about Mimicry and Perfect but y’know, I feel like it would be kinda toxic considering ………… P e r f e c t

but, hey, I think Mimicry and Glisten would be kinda cute- and I guess you could say their hero forms could be separate ships as well

okie tyyyyyy-

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tropicalcontinental · 2 months ago

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I lied about going to bed, due to Swap!AU

anyways, this AU applies sibling headcanon (yap below, but only a wee bit tbh)

Collin and AwesomeG come as a package deal. Neither of them know why or how but it's been like this for as long as they existed. Loved one goes missing (gets eaten by AwesomeG), Collin fills in the role as Metaphor for Grief for whoever is grieving (Collin feeds off it.) In the mean time they can somewhat exist in reality doing whatever people do. Siblings, that. A nice and simple dynamic they got going on.

Until one day AwesomeG goes missing themself and, well, what else can Collin do? (Basically I made the haunting herself thing true. Ouroboros type of existence.)

Saul got to AwesomeG for one of his cases. Collin doesn't know this. Saul doesn't even know about Collin being related to AwesomeG. They're also neighbors. Hopefully no one finds out!

#collinlock16 #minecraft arg but the protagonist is tired #tropical's art #art #digital art #cw eyestrain #eyestrain #tw blood

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butterfly-stitches · 3 months ago

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DOG-EAT-DOG.

[ Explicit ] // MDNI

AO3

Pairings: Russell Adler x Bell, Russell Adler x Reader Ensemble: Russell Adler, Reader, Male!Bell, Helen A. Park, Jason Hudson, Vikhor "Stitch" Kuzmin, Perseus

* Rape/Non-Con * Graphic Depictions Of Violence * Major Character Death Alternate Universe, Physical and Psychological Abuse, Non-Sexual and Sexual Submission, Dom/Sub Undertones, Ownership, Dehumanization, Dog Fighting, Obedience, Size Difference, Degradation, Hurt No Comfort, Power Imbalance, Stockholm Syndrome, Torture, Trauma, Loss of Identity, Rough Kissing, Watersports, Blood and Gore, Dry Humping, Protectiveness, Possessive Behavior, Human Ashtray, Master/Pet, Forced Orgasm, Orgasm Denial, Leg Humping, Rape/Non-con Elements, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Animal Metaphors, Bondage and Discipline, Finger Sucking, Hand Feeding, Leashes, Sleep Deprivation, Touch Aversion, Non-Consensual Touching / Groping, Dissociation, Praise Kink < Other Additional Tags to Be Added >

A guard dog to some, a hunting hound for many. But to one, you were nothing but a yapping lapdog. Spoiled rotten, overstepping, treated equally when you were nothing but a prized possession, a pampered pet; a damn dog.

Lured away, you’re brought out back, hung up like a carcass, beaten to a pulp, and put down like the animal you are. But what is dead may never die. As you’re soon found and taken in -– rescued, adopted. Belonging now to a scarred man. A new owner, a new master with a cruel hand and even crueler intentions. Stubborn, aggressive, unruly, you were leashed, collared, muzzled. Forced to obeisance, forced to submit. His ambition, his will; now, your purpose.

But every dog has its day. And you’re just biding your time. For if a dog was man’s best friend, it wouldn’t be a dog-eat-dog world.

---------------------------------------------------- WARNING: ➡ Dead Dove: Do Not Eat ⬅ Please, mind the tags. Take a second to read them over to see if you're comfortable enough to move forward. Bell is dehumanized, degraded, and abused. Apart of a back-end system where there are literal owners and those that are literally owned -- pets. Seen as nonhuman, as nothing but a dog. A companion even, if one's owner is kind enough. Here, Adler is overly cruel, abusive, controlling, manipulative, and forceful with an all-embracing god complex. Seeing Bell as nothing but a means to an end. To do with as he pleases when he pleases. Please proceed with caution and please take this warning into account. Otherwise, enjoy!

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Chapter 1: cornered animal.

[1 / 7]

Words: 2,025 Summary: In which you awaken …

You were slipping in and out of consciousness.

Stranded in a sort of limbo. On the fine line of sleep and death. Between the distorted planes of both reality and dreams that blurred into one. Rendering you sightless and senseless; numb.As if you were floating, set adrift. Carried away in a dreary astral sea that was boundless and as it was endless, for which there was no end nor beginning. Infinite, indefinite. A perpetual stagnation like a serpent eating its own tail; a self-inflicted, self-induced ouroboros. Where you knew no ending.

But on occasion there were slips in this nightmarish, dreamlike in-betweenness. Anomalies, abnormalities. Like small bumps on a clear stretch of roadway. Where you somehow became aware, and your surroundings bleed through. They were fleeting as they were rare and inconsistent. Just fractures of memory that you could barely process or even recall. Muddled, mangled, nonsensical in your brain’s fried synapses.

Sights : shadows at the edge of your vision, distorted blurs of figures in front of you, the glint of scalpels in scialytic lamps. Smells: rusted iron, peroxide, bleach, oxidation. Sounds: disembodied voices, hushed whispering, harsh conversations, high-pitched beeping, and worst of all, a ghostly chime of a bell in the distance. Ringing over and over and over again in your head. Sensations: the sting of needles into your arms, piercing into your veins. A suture needle sewing thread through your skin as easily as any fabric. Blood filling your mouth from a bitten tongue. The burn of ropes around your wrists and ankles.

But as quick as these sights, smells, sounds and sensations came, it all went, disappearing. From remembrance, from your recollection. And again you were pulled down under, soft as a falling feather. Back into inertia, lost in comatose, stuck in stasis.

That is.. until you woke up.

It was a painstakingly slow wake. One that left you groggy, disoriented, and insensate. Even more so as there was only darkness to greet you. A nightless night underneath a starless sky. It was hard to fully register, such a new feeling of consciousness and corporeality. Far too accustomed to the weightless ebb and flow of oblivion that cradled your fragile state of nonexistence. There came a precipitous flood of feelings; physical, psychological. Newly felt sensations, newly realized sensibilities. Confusion, uncertainty, panic.

Pain.

Dulled, diluted. Yet still perceivable, still tangible even in the disposition you woke up with. The feel of the first manual breath as you gasped aloud for air. The pattern of a pulse that throbbed underneath the skin, the steady rapid-fire pulse of a heartbeat. Eyelids that were hard to keep open fully. A tongue that was like lead, dry and heavy, and stuck to the roof of your mouth. A jawbone that ached from grinding your molars together.

A body that felt boneless, slow moving. Too heavy to keep yourself upright from the cold ground. It was too much, it was all too much. Overstimulated, overwhelmed. Taken from the womb like a newborn. You felt yourself spiraling, afflicted by shock, beset with qualmishness. Free-falling into an abyss, carried away by an event horizon,. Instinctively, you curled into yourself. Limbs pulled close to your body, knees drawn up towards your chest.

Then there came a sound.

Loud, echoing. Grounding you, forcing your focus. Sobering you up as you stilled in anticipation by the marching of footsteps that steadily approached you. Two sets, on either side of you. There came a voice. Rough and sonorous, calling out from the dark. You couldn’t comprehend what it said. Suppressed by your mind. It held no meaning to you. But it should, it seemed, by the voice repeating it again. Insistence with each verbal reiteration, only honing the voice sharper and harsher as patience wore thin. While you just stared out blankly into the dark. Only when the voice said it a final time, hoarse and full-throated, did you realize that it was an order being spoken to you . A command waiting to be obeyed and fulfilled by you .

But you stayed put. Unmoving, unyielding. Unaffected by the voice’s importuning. Whether by choice or from circumstance, you couldn’t make sense of your willingness to stay and need to disobey. And by the sudden silence, it seemed that the voice pondered something similar or second-guessing perhaps. The silence lasted for a long while until you heard the shuffling of feet, the movement of bodies. There was a quiet exchange of words between two voices now.

The conversation didn’t last long as you heard the retreat of a pair of footsteps. Only for the other to slowly come closer a few seconds after the first one left. These steps were heavy-footed, with a wide and easy stride. No doubt a man, tall and sizeable. Not less or more than you, you think. More importantly, one that was overconfident and heedless. You weren’t being perceived as a threat, but rather a nuisance. Hearing the footsteps approaching closer and closer made you bristle up. Gooseflesh breaking out across your skin like burning hives.

The footsteps came to a stop right in front of you. A darker outline just perceivable in the dark. Your head didn’t move but your eyes flicked up slightly from the ground where you lay, still curled into yourself. You felt a pair of eyes, staring down at you. Looking you over, wondering if your unresponsiveness was because you were nothing but cadaver rotting away in the dark. Then your body was jolted forward so abruptly that you didn’t have time to process what happened. Taking you a whole second to finally realize that you had been prodded by a heavy boot.

Then again as if the man was a child poking at something interesting in the underfoot with a stick until it reacted or boringly didn’t for that matter. With another nudge of his boot, more weight added to it this time, all you could do was curl into yourself tighter, tucking your face away and against your chest. Folding into yourself further, wishing to collapse into yourself and just vanish into thin air. Free from your skin, from what came with consciousness.

The man hummed, seemingly chuffed. He spoke a string of words, more of a murmur than anything. Something spoken underneath his breath. Talking to himself more than anything as he thought to himself. Though you were more lucid, your brain was still a bit lagged. It took you a long moment before you could absorb his words. Understand what was said:

“Not dead then, just half-dead.” The man had uttered. “Got one foot in the grave, but the other’s still kicking.”

Movement in your peripheral as he crouched down in front of you. You untucked your head from your chest. Eyes slightly widened in response to the action.

“M’not here to hurt you.” His voice dipped low, a faux gentleness. To pretend benignity that he lacked. “M’here to take you to your examination.”

You didn’t move, couldn’t. Just blinked blearily up at him, lost in thought, teetering at the cusp of dissociation. He clicked his tongue, catching your attention as you snapped out of it, making your ears perk up at the sound.

“C’mon then.”

The man nudged his chin over his shoulder, hoping you would get his implication to get up and follow. But you didn’t move. Trying instead to discern his facial features. Like a Polaroid camera lens trying to find focus at night. But found nothing but a shadow, a faceless face to you.

“Hey, you listenin’ to me?” He snapped in your face, “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

When you still didn't get the memo, you heard him let out a heavy huff before abruptly standing.

“Alright. M’done playing nice. Looks like I gotta make you get up.”

The man reached out towards you. Intending to grab you forcefully by the scruff of your neck. There was no hesitation as you acted out of gut reaction. You lunged forward, biting the outstretched hand before you.

“Agh — ya fuckin’ mutt! ” The man hissed through clenched teeth.

He tried to pull his hand away but the effort only encouraged you. You only bit down harder. Until you heard him yelp and scream. Felt the popping of flesh. The burst of breaking skin as your teeth sunk in deeper. The taste of blood on your tongue was exciting. Even as his fist came down onto you, hitting and smacking down on your head to get you to let go of him, but you didn't let up. Even as you ached.

The hitting quickly turned to battering and kicking, desperate to free himself from your grasp. With a strong yank, he forced his hand away, ripping it out from your mouth. Taking one of your canines along with it, still embedded in his hand like a piece of broken ceramic. But you didn’t feel the pain of its loss, benumbed by adrenaline. The sudden lack of leverage drove you backwards, falling to the ground, as the man stumbled back. Holding his afflicted hand in his other, the rapid sound of dripping liquid hitting the floor. Like the pealing of a bell.

But you didn't allow him to react. At that tell-tale sign of weakness, of opportunity. You pounced. Toppling the man to the ground, on his back. Your nails reached his face, scratching, clawing. Even as his initial surprise passed and he defended himself. Even as you felt some of your nails peeling back to the root from the viciousness of your swipes. Even as he tore hair from your scalp, trying to pull you away. But it didn’t stop you nor dissuade you. And it wasn’t long before your teeth found his throat, and you bit down. Harder and harder like you did to his hand. Until cartilage cracked, until your mouth filled with blazing blood, until you felt his struggle began to wane.

Until you felt him choking. Slow and steady suffocation by the crushing of his windpipe.

There was a rush of movement from the dark. Silhouettes rushed forward.Yelling and screaming. From others, other voices, other shadow people. You were pulled off of the man quickly, suddenly. Your teeth were still embedded into the throat. Still holding on, teething and chewing. Dragging the man with you. Until the shift of your body, your quick misbalance made you let go. But your focus was solely still on the man laid out on the floor, not yet dead, yet not lively. Half-dead. Blood ebbed and flowed, frothing at the exposure of torn open flesh. Effervesced through the puncture wounds in his neck as the man struggled to breath. Gasping, choking, gurgling.

Still alive. Alive still, not dead yet. Still not dead.

But you were forced away. Dragged back until the dying man was hidden from view by a swarm of silhouettes. You were detained on the ground. Forced into compliance by being outnumbered. But that didn’t stop you from trying, clawing and squirming. Teeth gnashing violently as you tried to bite down on anything careless enough to get within reach. Your neck was yanked to the side, forcing you flat on the floor.

You noticed something stood just at the edge of your sight among all the chaos. Someone . More discernible to you than the current vicinity, than those here and now detaining you. More sensational than your failed predation attempt. Shades crept in the dark, glinting like a cat’s eye. There, where the tenebrosity seemed the most concentrated and the most condensed. A deep, dark impression that cut an imposing and impressive figure in the background. Watching, waiting — onlooking.

As a needle gleamed above your head and a sharp pain burned when it sunk into your held-down forearm. It was fast-acting, almost instantaneous.Your vision began to dim, your surroundings fading away. It was getting harder to stay attentive, to fight back. To remain awake. Administered now with whatever was coursing through your veins, diluting your adrenaline rush. Pacifying you, until you were no longer a threat.

Submerged back in stasis, lost at sea. Surrounded solely by a boundless nothingness once more.

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A/N:

Critique welcomed and encouraged as long as it is constructive and polite (don't be rude/mean pretty please ◡̈ ). Also if I made any mistakes, grammar or otherwise, please to let me know.

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#cod #call of duty #cod fanfic #alternate universe #black ops cold war #cod:bocw #russell adler #bell cod #russell adler x reader #russell adler x bell #adler x bell #adbell #adlerbell #helen park #jason hudson #dead dove do not eat #vikhor stitch kuzmin

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freakishlyundaunted · 1 month ago

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Ouroboros - LotF Angst Oneshot

TW: Vomit, murder, mental distress

A/N: I’m so glad to be posting this on Tumblr! When writing this, the only goal was to try to further delve into the characters. I really enjoyed writing this, and as much as I would like to yap, I should refrain just as much! This isn’t intended to be a ship fic, however any and all interpretations of this work is valid :) Apologies for any formatting issues or typos! Enjoy!

P.S. Italic quotation belongs to the book Lord of the Flies. All characters in this work are from Lord of the Flies. This work is not on any other platforms than AO3 and Tumblr. Special thanks to my Beta reader, M, you’re a real one for this.

Word count: 2.5k+ words

The boy with fair hair stared out at the clearing of ocean, gazing at the ripples of each wave, and included the separation of the navy blue water and baby blue sky into his view. The boy that gazed sat upon a smooth white bench, palms fiercely gripped to the lip of the bench that sank into the boat, which skidded fiercely along the waters upon a cloudy day. His face held a serious stare under the boy’s sunburn, which glowed a rosy red and covered his face and body as a burden. The wind pushed against his grime-covered body, and through his tousled hair, which consisted of small matted bits, leaves that poked out of his hair in a matter of trespass, and outgrown strands that stuck to the nape of his neck. Hunger so obviously gnawed at this young boy, his ribs beginning to protrude from his mid-torso. The only thing that seemed to hold this boy together was the shirt that hung from his body, tattered and stained, and a ripped pair of shorts that were on the verge of falling apart. This boy, who seemed so misguided and malnourished, only focused on the end, and the beginning.

Ralph broke his gaze from the ocean to look over at the other boys. All of these boys were, like Ralph, covered in blood and dirt. Some still cried, silently, while others sniffled and quietly whispered to one another. Sam and Eric were laid out beside and parallel to one another, asleep with tear-stained cheeks. Roger was staring at his knees with deep intensity, snapping his head up in alert whenever a sudden noise occurred. Percival wept pathetically to himself, his small and frail body shaking with every inhale and exhale of his lungs. It had begun to make Ralph physically ill to even look over to Jack Merridew, who had his knees tightly pressed to his chest, with his arms wrapped around his legs and paint-covered body self-consciously. Ralph felt sharp air claw at his throat when his head stopped turning. Jack’s clay paint was smeared violently from its original, neat design, his thick freckles and sunburn showing through the now transparent paint, exhibiting signs of a human despite previous actions and decisions. Curly red hair festered down the back of Jack’s neck, bangs far away from his blue eyes, which fell empty. His dirtied face seemed almost blank in that moment, until he looked up into Ralph’s wandering eyes, sensing the pair of eyes that stared at him. In that moment, he didn’t break eye contact, rather, he buried half of his face in his arms by laying his head down shamefully, while his face kept the blank emotion of neutrality. Jack’s eyes still stared into Ralph’s soul as though he was talking to him telepathically... Ralph’s grip impossibly tightened on the edge of the bench-

The boat hit an especially thick wave, causing everyone to jolt up in that moment. Every littlun and biggun collectively sighed and whined, annoying the officers who drove the boat. This uproar broke the staring contest Jack and Ralph had been partaking in.

A sense of dread loomed over Ralph at that moment, as he realized the true gravity of his return home. Sure, he would return back to safety in less than a few hours, but that meant going back to ‘normal.’

How could normal be defined? Was it a feeling? Was it an action? Was it a lifestyle? Was it laughing with someone identified as a ‘friend’ around the fire? Was it hunting pigs as if life depended on it? Was it shouting aggressively in victory, and carrying the dead carcass of a hog by a stick? Was ‘normal’ hunting down people that were called friends only days ago? Was it being so terrified of the one who once followed your rule? Was it being rescued after two were dead? Was it talking to parents as if nothing happened, and wallowing in this conniption for a lifetime?

Then, it dawned on him. How normal would normal be if the atom bomb was anything but a tall tale? The imagination of the young boy trembled with hysteria. If everyone he knew was dead, including the friends he made on the island, then he wouldn’t have anyone. Any of the boys who partook in the dance were no longer alive either, rather, they were poisoned by Jack and his tribe.

Jack and his tribe. A simple grouping that made Ralph seethe in silent confusion, anger, sadness, and true curiosity. How could someone be so kind, humorous, and such a normal human, instantly turn into a greedy, narcissistic, and uncaring beast? And how could Ralph be such a fool to laugh with Jack, eat with Jack, and hunt with someone so sinister? How does one switch to the facade of normalcy after committing an atrocity as murder?

With Jack on his mind, Ralph looked back over only to see cold eyes meeting his, intimidating him, and before he could give a proper reaction, Jack Merridew moved and sat beside the boy he had tried to murder only a few hours ago. Ralph, petrified beyond belief, froze in fear. An image in his mind appeared: A thick wooden stick that had been sharpened at both ends. Beyond this spear lay the painted face that smiled over his demise and strangled any of Ralph’s happiness with the dirty hands of death. If Jack had been sent down as the Devil who reigned over the Earth, he would feign shock.

Neither said a word for what seemed like an eternity. Ralph found nothing to say and assumed this of the other. There wasn’t anything Ralph wanted to say more than to tell Jack away, yet he found silence. Even then, Ralph was unable to face Merridew, forcing his gaze away from the ginger to look back out to the greying sea, but the procrastination did nothing to send Jack away. Anywhere but near this killer. Fiery anger spread through him abruptly because of this thought. Ralph whipped his head to face the terrifying freckles of Merridew and spoke at a slightly-too-loud volume.

“Why do you hate me?” Jack’s eyebrow quirked, blades of his piercing blue eyes sharpening themselves into battle. All at once, they softened; and fell. A question he found escaping his lips yet again. The first time, it was nothing more than petty confusion. Now, this question was to live or to die.

“I never hated you, Ralph.”

“What?” Jack’s voice registered in Ralph’s brain, the tone of voice dusting off an old record player. One that hummed a C sharp, and asked about the man with a trumpet. A vulnerable voice that Ralph hadn’t heard in a long time. And Ralph’s weakened query reflected that.

"Yeah. When we were on the island, that’s all I believed. But I couldn’t put that belief to an action.” Jack's eyes looked into Ralph’s with a deep sense of trust. His eyes held spikes of blue, and his pupils the size of a speck of dust. He looked at Ralph as though it were hard to explain, as his fiery red hair blew violently in the wind. Jack almost looked batty in a way, like he was about to throw a tantrum; he stayed still.

“I don’t think I could’ve ever truly hurt you. You were a chap. Mostly, anyways.” At this point, Ralph’s eyes were saucers, pulling a hand away from the bench to bite down on stubby nails. Jack's casual add-on offended Ralph. Offended him so deeply that it gave him a sudden surge of entitlement and emboldened him.

“…Why did you kill Simon?” Before the fair-haired boy could think of what he spat, Ralph��s confidence was quickly replaced with intimidation. Questions seemed to ask themselves internally all at once. Jack tensed, the curtains of his mind blowing wind into thoughts he didn’t want to think about.

“That wasn’t Simon, that was the-”

“You and me both know it was Simon-” Ralph’s voice ran up, and the Naval officer looked at him in confusion. He looked down at his bare feet shyly. Jack’s gaze didn’t falter, not even for a blink. He didn’t respond, so Ralph continued just above a whisper.

“You murdered Simon, Jack. And you played a dirty, dirty trick on Piggy, n’ Roger, he-”

“Shut up,” Jack’s voice dropped aggressively with consonants as he seethed through his teeth, eyes breaking their gaze on Ralph to view the sun.

“The beast was disguised as Simon, Ralph! He was crawling, and foaming from ‘is mouth, I saw it with my bloody own eyes!”

“Can’t you get it through your batty head that the beast isn’t real?! You’re crackers, Jack! That was Simon- and Piggy, you- you-” Ralph couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence, and he stopped in defeat.

“All of this talk of me, me, ME! But what about you, Ralph? You were in the circle! And you danced and ate with us, why, you’re just as savage as the next boy! And where were you when Piggy was struck? Still as a stick! Don’t act like a saint, you bloody fool!” Jack’s eyes widened in accusation, lips curving upwards, creeping through of light yellow with pulp stuck between the gaps.

Ralph could feel his face growing hotter by the second; Jack’s smug smile remained as he went quiet. Any sense of direction he had in his argument washed away in panic, fight or flight beginning to bore through his body.

Ralph, shut into silence, mouth tightened, face crinkled, let out a huff of aggressive air. Something inside, low and dark, clawed at his stomach. Nausea rose in his throat, flooding any rebuttal he would blabber out. Jack must’ve seen this because he gently shoved Ralph, rather guided him, to the edge of the bench, making sure he faced the outside of the boat. Ralph made eye contact with the crevices of the ocean, deep shades of blue mirroring his battered and dirtied face. Before he knew it, he was vomiting thick liquid into the blue sea, staining the navy blue with off-white which made a disturbing green that walked away from him. Strewn over the edge of the boat, he continued to expel any contents of his stomach. After two minutes, silence overcame him. Numbness tingled at his fingers, and birds flew by in the distance. Still feeling a hand on his back, Ralph paused and regained composure. He pulled his head up to face Merridew with an uncomfortable and confused expression.

“Why did you kill Simon and Piggy?” The question rolled off his tongue too casually for the fair boy’s liking, and held himself up weakly. Jack pushed off of Ralph once he was done vomiting, his spot returning beside Ralph on the bench. He flushed, ears going pink.

“They were the beast! I’ve told you already, Ralph!” Jack seethed loathingly. Ralph didn’t question this again. Birds cawed from beyond the sky, while other ships passed them eventually. They were getting closer to shore. Only the loud engine consistently growled under them. Jack turned to face Ralph.

“When I know the beast is in someone, I get this sudden surge of emotion… As if I can barely control myself.” This piqued not only Ralph’s interest, but his fear. He failed to respond before Jack started again.

“I feel this… Sudden anger, and it feels white and hot. When you burn your hand… in the oven, you know? I’d say… it’s even hotter than that. And I can’t… I can’t get rid of it, unless I’ve gotten rid of the beast.” Jack’s eyes were wide with this storytelling. Ralph felt familiar terror crawl through his body, settling in the pit of his stomach with as malice. Jack, once again, looked at him with a stare full of nightmares. Deadly wonder danced through Jack’s face, as he racked his brain for any possible words to describe this feeling.

“Do you know what I-”

“You didn’t get rid of a bloody beast, Jack. You just thought you did. And you killed two innocent people in the process!” Ralph sharply cut the voice off, betraying any sense of ‘trust’ this monster gave him. They were not even. They were not the same. Ralph realized.

. . .

“Maybe,” he said hesitantly, “maybe there is a beast.”

The assembly cried out savagely, and Ralph stood up in amazement.

“You, Simon? You believe in this?”

“I don’t know,” said Simon. His heartbeats were choking him. “But…”

“…What I mean is… maybe it’s only us.”

“Nuts!”

That was from Piggy, shocked out of decorum. Simon went on.

“We could be sort of…”

Simon became inarticulate in his effort to express mankind’s essential illness. Inspiration came to him.

“What’s the dirtiest thing there is?”

. . .

Ralph’s eyes snapped over to Jack, reviewing the ugly face of his attempted murder.

“Simon tried to tell us.”

“Tell us what?”

“That the beast was bullocks.”

“Just as much as he was? Why I-”

“Shut up! Will you just listen for once?!” Ralph breathed and shook his head, looking away. He continued.

“…Simon knew what the beast really was.”

“…And just what was it, Mr. Sherlock Holmes?”

“People. Us.”

Jack went silent at this. They were parallel to each other, with the same blank face. The two boys almost looked similar, eyes wide, hair matted, face dirtied, but so different. One was made a hunter, and the other made the hunted.

This time, Ralph didn’t weep. Infact, he refused. All tears had been shed, and a new emotion had begun. He glared at betrayed eyes with pure bitterness.

“You killed him before he could tell us.”

Jack retorted, just as quipped, “And you celebrated his death. With us.”

Ralph looked down at his hands and back at Jack. A thought stabbed his heart: Was Ralph all that different from Jack? What did he do to be a leading man when Simon and Piggy needed him most? What had he ever done for the two younger boys? He just ran. He ran for his sanity, his spirit, and his heart that would continue to beat. He didn’t run to save Simon or Piggy, no, Ralph ran for the selfish dwelling of continuing life. So, how was he any different than Jack?

“You understand exactly what I said earlier. I can tell, Ralph.” Jack taunted Ralph, pulling invisible strings on the other that he wasn’t aware he had; because he knew deep down that Jack was right. He understood the feeling that came to existence and spread like wildfire among the boys, but it would never get to him. He was immune to this because he was a victim. At least, what he believed to be true.

When he wasn’t given a response, Jack scoffed and turned away from the boy, and suddenly gasped.

“My, we’ve made it!” Ralph’s ears perked to this, and he looked over to the harbor of people. No familiar faces returned. Heaps of reporters, tourists, and residents bore shocked faces with their flashing cameras and notebooks ready at set, and they began to chant. Gasps, shouts, and raves fled through the air. Through this muddle of screaming, all Ralph could hear, and was clear as day…

“Kill the pig. Cut her throat. Spill her blood.”

…Ralph choked, and Jack looked over at this. While Ralph coughed with a flustered face, Jack stared through the fair-haired boy. He had the same buggy look on his face, eyes that peered into his soul and saw Ralph for who he really was. He seemed to understand why Ralph began to choke, but instead of initiation, he spoke above a whisper before he stood up to leave the boat.

“Just a game.”

At that moment, Ralph and Jack realized that the beast was not a creature out to claw them to death on the island. It was a tumorous imagination that thrived inside the human mind, one that infected theirs.

#lord of the flies #jack merridew #simon lord of the flies #jack lord of the flies #fanfiction #fanfic #lotf jalph #lotf fandom #lotf piggy #writing #tags for reach #SoundCloud

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killshopdeluxe · 3 months ago

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hey kill! i was scrolling through your blogs for the umpteenth time and i LOVE all of your names for your ocs. they're just so creative and cool :D how do you go about naming your ocs and their universes?

Ahhh thank you so much, I’m so glad you like them!! ;w;///

When I name my characters or settings, I often consider a few things:

Names often have certain connotations/associations—does the name I’m using give the impression I want it to give? Does it match the character’s design (or setting’s vibe), or subvert it in an intentional way?

Does the name feel congruent with the setting, genre, tone, and themes? (This includes making sure characters whose heritages are important to their stories get well-researched cultural names!)

Is there any special etymology I want to keep in mind when selecting a name? Do I want the name to be a homage to anything? (For example, Xero’s title “Ouroboros” corresponding with their whole infinite immortal void nature, or Verrine’s first name “Carmen” being a nod to how her design is inspired by Carmen Sandiego—while simultaneously being similar to “carmine” for her red colour scheme.)

A lot of my OCs and OUs are very “anime-inspired,” so I don’t have to worry about grounding names in reality—it’s how I end up with things like Dr. Evening Threnody or Reis Cordis or Velo Velocity. But when I do want to centre my characters in the “real world” to some extent, I like choosing names that make them stand out as characters in a story, while still being plausible (Niere Sandoval, Jet Klein, Junta Palomero, etc).

Hopefully this was helpful! Thank you for the ask—I love being able to yap about my creative process///

#📧MISC

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haydenthewitch · 8 months ago

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THEY ARE SO ON A LITTLE DATE HERE R U KIDDING

#hayden yaps #hayden yaps about supernatural #spn #supernatural #14×14 ouroboros

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jazzy-art-time · 7 months ago

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I want to Yap about the Jarble Imps so by god I am going to do so

Part 2 since my previous post got lost in the void due to bad internet connection

The Imps are a important part of Jarble Lore in the ways of: They are considered to be the keys to unlock the apocalypse.

In order for The 3 Serpents to resurrect, certain things need to be met. One of them being needing the “keys”, these are the imps themselves. Funky little ouroboros keys.

Their relation to the 3 Serpents is unknown. It is believed to be due to whatever had sealed the serpents away to begin with, as the Imps appeared shortly after. Despite being related to the serpents, the Imps do not mimic any of the Serpents “behaviors”. The Imps are not self absorbed, they do not destroy themselves to appease others and they don’t think about the future. They merely… exist.

The Imps are still considered to be “feral creatures” but they do exhibit high intelligence. They cannot speak or do anything of that nature, but they are extremely intelligent. Most of their animalistic behaviors appear to be by choice. The Imps know of their purpose in this world, but they don’t appear to “strive” for it. They aren’t actively trying to resurrect the serpents or anything, again they merely just exist.

The Imps are loosely based on the 3 lake guardians, hence the colorings. But also they are loosely based on Kyubey, not by any malicious intent however. Just that general “magical creature” vibes. The Imps do not have any ill intent even tho I based them on Kyubey, i promise lmaO

The Imps are unable to die, they can feel pain however. They do not age and if damaged they will merely “repair” themselves. The way they repair themselves depends on the Imp. Which will be said below each image. But the point is, they merely cannot die in the slightest. They can appear to feel pain, but it’s not clear as to why they need this if they can’t even die.

Thankfully, they appear to be smart enough to avoid danger for the most part.

The Imps naturally have a instinctual desire to be near the current Ring Leader within each area. This is believed to be due to their association with the 3 Serpents. It’s a instinctual yearning to be near them and close to them. Unfortunately they aren’t always desired, their relationships with the Ring Leader depends. As the Imps have been through multiple Ring Leaders (as they are thousands of years old)

The Imps do not have gender! They are just, tubes…. Their referred to by any pronoun, often changing depending on who is speaking to them. The Imps don’t seem to care or mind on what they are called.

“GoAway” is the Imp that roams the Shining Ring.

Their name of “Go Away” stems to their bad relationship with the Farefell family. For many generations they have been seen as a nuisance, often being shouted at “GO AWAY!!”. Eventually the Imp took this on as a name. Learning that when someone shouts “GO AWAY” it is referring to them. Although at some point, they once had a kind relationship but once Wem’s Grandfather became a Ring Leader, the relationship soured.

GoAway tends to exhibit more Feline behaviors. This is believed to be due to the Farefell Family being primarily feline for the past few generations. It almost as a appear as a attempt to “fit in” with the family after years of being pushed away.

Wem has a extreme dislike of GoAway, continuing the family tradition of hating it. Wem does not want it in the apartment or to be near it at all. Which is unfortunate due to GoAway yearning to be close to him. This leads to a lot of situations where GoAway is outside their balcony, scratching at the window to be let in.

Alaxia also has a iffy relationship with GoAway, knowing that his father dislikes it so that means he must also dislike it. Due to Alaxia training under Wem to be a successor, GoAway has started to show a interest in him. Their relationship isn’t the best, granted not as bad as the relationship with Wem, but still not great. GoAway tends to freak Alaxia out a fair bit because of their habit of staring or appearing suddenly.

Eden however, is always thrilled to see GoAway, always letting them in the apartment or picking them up outside. Eden loves to dress up GoAway like a little dog and often uses them for content. GoAway has become popular in Eden’s livestreams and videos, featuring in them often. Their relationship is good for Eden as GoAway is treated like a “non commitment pet”. He doesn’t have to house to take care of GoAway, but he can still dress it up for content and pet it once every so often. Without actually having to take care of it. However, GoAway also gains something from this relationship, often being fed Salami and cheese as a trade. GoAway enjoys this greatly, they crave the charcuterie board…

GoAway generally loves to run around balconies on the high up apartments and penthouses. Scrambling around the giant screens in the downtown area. When injured, GoAway seems to crumble as if it is made of sand or glitter. It does not bleed liquid but a weird grainy substance that is iridescent

“Scruff” is the Imp that roams the Perception Ring.

They gained the current nickname from Goddess’ children! They have had multiple previous names, but since the arrival of Goddess' children, the name "Scruff" has become what everyone calls them. They gained this nickname due to their "scruffy fur" that notably is almost always in specific clumps. If you tassel their hair it will always reform back into the specific clumps. Scruff tends to exhibit a mixture of Canine and Snake like behaviors. It is by far the most playful and energetic of the Imps. It mimics dog like behavior and runs around and plays. However it's tail rattles very much like a snake. Whether or not the rattling noise comes from the tail itself or is just a sound the Imp emits on its own, is unclear. Scruff has notably mimicked many different species throughout the generations, the most recent behavior being more canine. Possibly due to the fact of Goddess' species... or another theory is that it is merely acting playful like a dog because it is now around children more frequently. Unlike GoAway, Scruff does not feel AS intense of a need to be close to their Ring Leader. It still feels the urge and is generally seen on the ranch, but it is far more carefree. It loves to run around the open fields and in nature constantly, usually seen scampering along the countryside. However at night, it usually can be seen near the livestock on the ranch, acting as a sort of "guard dog" for the cattle. It was not asked to do this, but it is accepted. Generally Scruff has a decent relationship with most Hend family members. It's treated more like a friendly critter that is seen from time to him. Goddess doesn't entirely seem to thrilled when it is nearby however, she never elaborates as to why. She doesn't shoo it away, but they seem to keep their distance from one another. The only main issue with Scruff is that of its rattling. When it rattles its tail, it is indistinguishable from that of a actual rattlesnake. Scruff enjoys rattling and suddenly scaring anyone on the ranch into thinking they are a rattlesnake. This is generally not enjoyed by anyone, but Scruff doesn't mean it in a bad way. It is clearly just playing around but it's joke is not appreciated. As well as many worry that Scruff is teaching the children that "rattling from the grass is a good thing" and they are struggling to teach the children to not approach sudden rattling noises. As well as Scruff has been known to "Crash" any family BBQs because it desperately wants the brisket. It wants the potato chips. Give it to them. Just a piece under the table it promises it wont ask for more. When injured, Scruff appears to crumble like stone. Breaking into chunks and having a gritty sound emit from when they crumble. They do not appear to have any sort of blood or blood replacement, only breaking off into pieces like stone.

"Subject 0" is the Imp that roams the Mending Ring. Except... not really. Subject0 gets its name for the reason one would think. It is a imprisoned test subject for the Mending Ring facilities. It is not allowed to roam around the Mending Ring, it is not allowed to really go near/stalk the Ring Leader. Subject0 is to remain imprisoned in a laboratory for testing. It has been imprisoned for many centuries, once science began to evolve further and further in the ring, they quickly grabbed Subject0 as it is considered the "perfect test subject" as it cannot die and easily regenerates any damage done to itself. It is the test Guinea pig for anything the Mending Ring does. Being nicknamed "Subject0" means that all tests must be done on the imp before it is tested on absolutely anything else. As the Ring DOES do tests on other creatures/people/things, none of it is done until it is first tested on Subject0. Subject0 tends to exhibit more Rodent like behaviors. This is believed to be due to the fact that it has been surrounded by lab rats for many many years. Merely mimicking the creatures that it spends a lot of time around. Despite testing on rodents not being done as much as the old days, Subject0 still tries to mimic rodent behavior, perhaps out of habit. Unlike the other two, Subject0 is unable to get close to its Ring Leader. It has a yearning deep down, but due to its situation, it cannot. The Mayor doesn't seem to keen on the creature anyways, whenever they are around it Mayor begins to "malfunction" and have breakdowns. Causing Mayor to never want to see it. It is believed that Subject0 triggers something within The Mayor that causes these freak outs, unknown as to why. Believed to be a connection to one of the "halves" of The Mayor before they became what they are now. However, Subject0 has recently come under Maddox's care within recent years. Despite Maddox still performing tests on the Imp, the two seem to have a sort of kinship with one another. Maddox doesn't appear to want to perform experiments on the Imp but has to due to his job, but Subject0 seems to understand this. Maddox also breaks the rules by letting Subject0 free roam in his laboratory/basement/home, instead of confining it to a cage like he is supposed to. The only time Subject0 is caged is if Maddox has a Mending Facility Member over and needs to keep up appearances or if Subject0 is being transferred somewhere. Otherwise Maddox lets Subject0 roam freely throughout his area. Subject0 has taken a liking to Maddox quite a bit, often seen hiding within his sleeves or blankets. Maddox also shares a lot of his food with the Imp, making it become mildly addicted to pointless junk food. When injured, Subject0 appears to be made of a more goo/liquid substance. This substance changes in color each time the liquid is extracted/injured. This substance is highly sought after and is taken from Subject0 quite frequently, as it is the primary ingredient in the Mending Ring Vaccine and Modifications. Thankfully since Subject0 cannot technically die, they can take as much as they want. -- -- -- --- THATS ALL 4 NOW I HAVE MORE BUT I WILL REFRAIN FROM YAPPING FURTHER dances away dances im dancing do you see it? do you see my dance? waiiiit... they dont love you like I love you... kind of dance. do you see it do you see.

#JarbleAU #GoAwayImp #ScruffImp #Subject0Imp #text post #sfw

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idolkilling · 10 months ago

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THIS BLOG IS 21+ ONLY FOR SEX, VIOLENCE, & “DEAD DOVE” THEMES. All depictions of crime or taboo are for fictional character exploration and not endorsed in real life. More info on carrd. Last updated 2025/02. twitter｜ao3｜toyhou.se｜bsky @killshopdeluxe — yapping/reblogs ko-fi.com/idolkilling — tip jar

Hi I’m Kill ! Fibromyalgia having broke ass OC drawer and writer… welcome to my twisted mind (gay shitposts and ikemen). I love hearing about other people’s characters and tossing my own at them, so if you have OC socials of your own, feel free to drop me a line!🕺🏻✨

I follow and send asks from @idolkilling-alt. If you make anything featuring one of my OCs, please tag #idolkilling and @ me! (•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑

⚠️ MY WORKS: TERMS OF USE

DO NOT repost my original works to any site, inclusive of using my art as an icon, banner, or background without express permission.

DO NOT use my works as reference material, inclusive of tracing my art, studying my style, or taking heavy inspiration from the designs or stories of my OCs. I am a small hobby creator, not a big IP, so people piggybacking off my works to make their own—especially with the intent to publish or monetise—is hurtful (and has already happened several times). TT

DO NOT use my works for generative AI training.

DO NOT tag my OCs as your own characters or use them as references/RP claims.

☣️ SENSITIVE CONTENT

My works occasionally feature “dead dove” or “landmine” themes, such as abuse, rape/sexual assault, necrophilia, incest, or teenage characters in suggestive situations (naturally, for fictional exploration only—not condoned IRL). I will NOT usually tag specific warnings for such content, so the pieces can be interpreted however the viewer likes. However, I will use the blanket tag #dead dove, so people can mute as needed.

Beyond that, my works frequently contain sexual, violent, or horrific imagery, and I often forego the use of Tumblr’s built-in censor/blur. While I post SFW pieces as well, please keep the full breadth of my works in mind when deciding whether to follow, unfollow, mute, or block me! 🙇

🪐 TAGLIST

Personal

#🌻kill.txt ｜ #🌻kill.abt — personal posts and info

#🪻blog.new ｜ #🪻blog.abt — blog updates and info

Content Archival

#📧OC Q&A — ask responses, as well as general trivia posts

#📁MY OUS/AUS ｜ #📁OTHERS’ OUS/AUS ｜ #📁MEDIA IPS

#📁MISC SOLO ｜ #📁MISC RP — works that do not have any specific fleshed out setting

#📁MY OCS ｜ #📁OTHERS’ OCS ｜ #📁MEDIA CHARACTERS

#💘SHIPPING — specific ship tags in “OC-Related” subsection

#🎨ILLUST ｜ #📝WRITING — my own works, sorted into the subtags #scrawls, #rough, #clean, and #coloured as well as #drabbles, #oneshots, and #ongoing respectively; #WIPs and #showcase are used for both

#💞TREASURE BOX — works featuring my OCs by other people

#💛OTHERS’ WORKS — works by my OC collaborators! :D

OC-Related

I generally use an OC’s full name—in Western order—for art, writing, and any information on them (in response to asks or in general musings) I find important/vital. If a character lacks a proper full name (such as Xero or Velo), they may have a goofy tag, and if a character has a prominent alias, it will appear in their tag after their name (eg. “Lucien Yeoun | Rien”).

I may sometimes include works by other people in my OCs’ main tags, if I feel they represent the character’s vibes well to people who are not yet familiar with them! I’ll usually tag other people’s OCs by their full names as well, unless the mun has their own tagging conventions (in which case I’ll follow suit). Here’s a short list of my more relevant characters, for ease of access:

Xero | Ouroboros (I also use the joke tag Xero Ouroboros Flamel Nocturne Jabberwock Lacrimosa etc since they have a lot of aliases LMAO)

Dimitri Andreyevich Noskov

Reis Cordis and Navid Veisi

Umetarou Sano Lecce

V. Aster (formerly known as Vivie Circuit)

Kaede Kamakiri

To further organise posts, I use an OC’s shortened name + a descriptor:

#[OC] by others — works featuring the character by other people

#[OC] info — self-explanatory; includes responses to asks

#[OC] answers — asks or replies where I draw/write the character responding directly

#[OC] core — random things that remind me of the character

Rounding back to shipping, each pairing or polycule has a main generic tag, but may feature subtags indicating top/bottom or D/s order (for sexual, suggestive, or otherwise ‘charged’ works). The Eastern fandom practise of ordered tags is important to me, as oftentimes AB and BA are their own separate dynamics completely!

Some of my more relevant ships, for ease of access:

#Killing Idols — Dimitri × Xero or Xero × Dimitri

#TRT — Tarou × Reis or Reis × Tarou

If you want to browse all of my OC- and shipping-related tags, I’ll link a master doc here at some point, so keep a look-out aha.

🍳 BLOGROLL

People I OC with a lot 🤼 !!! Check out their socials 🥰

@mihlen｜twitter｜ao3｜toyhou.se

@ramsauced｜twitter｜toyhou.se

@enigma-sanctity｜twitter

🌻 ABOUT ME

I’m Filipino and live in the Eastern US. Immigrant parents and an unconventional background have made me pretty passionate about diaspora Asians in the West—as well as continental Asian culture as it’s warped by globalisation—so I tend to create OCs with that representivity in mind. Even if it’s very subtle and not at all profound—focusing on Eastern tropes, values, and themes rather than Western ones, mostly—I just think it’s neat!

Beyond that, I’m a disabled survivor with weird idiosyncrasies regarding gender, sex, and romance, and suffer the paradoxical curse of being both a high-maintenance extravert who never shuts up and extremely, painfully shy…

Creative works are just my hobby at the moment, but one day I’d like to publish things. My taste in media runs somewhat niche, but feel free to talk to me about musical theatre, seinen (and shounen that feels seinen), pre-2010s sci-fi films, or fucked up serials. Beyond fiction I have old person interests, like buying seasonal produce, household appliances, and tailoring.

I pretty much exclusively blog from PC—check out my theme on browser if you have a chance!

Dividers by strangergraphics. If you’ve taken the time to read all this, thank you—feel free to drop a like so I know who you are! :D <3

#🪻blog.abt #🌻kill.abt

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