#visceral words

[speakingviscera]

pinned post (about time

hi hi hi! im misha or mikhail or conway or venn or viscera or whatever the fuck idrc :-) he/him/his, aromantic bisexual polyamorous thing. I'm collecting labels like pokemon atp

i post my fandoms erratically so sorry if you follow me for one thing and i never post about it again

i use procreate, if you want to know about brushes send an ask about it; it helps if you're specific because i use about a hundred and they change every drawing lmfao

tag for my art is #visceral art and my text posts are #visceral words

important note do not interact with my shit if you're a ccwilbur soot + ccdream stan or supporter or whatever. I don't like y'all

will add more stuff to this later probably

[stars-obsession-pit]

Aftermath.

It was an unfortunate truth of reality that heroes were oftentimes a reactive force. They could only respond to what they knew about.

So whenever the heroes uncovered an illegal lab, it typically had a history. Experiments that had been performed there already. Horrors no one in their right mind would want to bear witness to.

But someone had to go through all those records left behind. To risk the worst of humanity’s crimes in search of any potential clues. Often, they found little that was useful. Maybe some closure for the families of the missing, at most. But sometimes, sometimes they did find things. Their work could save lives.

That didn’t change the fact that few in their departments lasted long, and even fewer could ever sleep soundly.

The man took a deep breath and attempted to steel himself. He knew it wouldn’t help.

He clicked on the file anyway.

GIW Research Logs, Project HLFA, subject DP-01, Experiment #0001.

[yayll]

~ a little something about Beast Dazai and his inability to let you go ~

Your hand trembles as you're about to knock on the massive office doors and you wonder if you're about to make the biggest mistake of your life.

You got too close working for this terribly lonely man, and now you're knocking at his door with the only solution you can think of to put an end to your silly infatuations that have gone on for longer than you'd want to admit and can possibly handle. You open the door slowly, and walk into the elegant and massive office space, your eyes falling right onto the dark haired man in all black hunched over the desk, scribbling away as if he didn't hear you come in. You walk quietly, and when you reach the wooden desk, your voice comes out soft and firm.

"Dazai, sir? I wanted to speak to you about something sensitive, if I may."

You chew on the corner of your bottom lip, but quickly compose yourself when you see the face of the man you've spent so much time with, the unfortunate love of your life. if it weren't for his Maroon scarf, he'd look like nothing but a black void. A burnt Black cat. He looks up, narrowed eyes scan you as he takes a sip of his tea, replying in a monotonous tone.

"What is it?"

"After much consideration, I think.. I need to leave the Port Mafia. We've worked together for quite a while now, and I can assure you it's not about the quality or enjoyment of my work. You don't even have to acknowledge this beyond me simply saying it, I just have to confess something that makes my heart ache. You make my heart ache. I know how unprofessional that sounds and that you have no use for such affections, but I can't keep pretending. It's why I think it's time for me to move onto something else otherwise my work will become disrupt-"

A lifted finger is shoved into your face, signaling you to stop, and so you do. Of course you do. You always had a habit of word vomiting when you were anxious. Dazai is staring down at his tea, and he stays quiet for a long time, trying to pick what emotion he can mask his real outraged ones with. Finally, he flashes you an unbothered look, his eyes half lidded as they taunt you. A cruel smirk curls onto his lips.

"Oh? What an awful time for your honesty! I'm currently drowning in work and responsibilities, ones that you're supposed to aid me with, actually. Thus, I have no use for your confession." He simply says.

You can feel a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. You expected this. Looking down at your shoes, you chew on your lip again.

"I had to tell you.. Like I said, you can just forget about it."

"Well you see, that's the problem. I can't forget it. The moment you uttered those nasty little words to me, I realized I have to carry the weight of finding a new secretary. And I resent that."

He looks away for a brief second, his words are bitter and laced with what sounds like remorse and irritation.

You cross your arms and sigh, your voice comes out lower than your confidence.

"I just thought that we were... I suppose I should have never dared to assume you'd ever see me as more than a-"

He instantly leans over his desk, now placing a finger on your lip, his voice just above a whisper.

"... And though these feelings you have for me may be inconvenient, it doesn't mean that they're unwelcome."

He lets his finger rest on your lips for just a second too long, meanwhile you're frozen in place feeling like your chest is going to collapse in on itself. His voice becomes softer.

"Sit, please."

You sit down, now facing each other. It's quiet for a few moments as you both study each other's expressions. This form of intimacy was unusual to everyone else but the two of you, having spent countless hours in the past working across one another without uttering a single word, yet communicating in perfect sync. You were a part of each other's routines, a never ending spiral. Dazai feels himself teetering on the edge of something dangerous, something peeling away at his very soul. He's usually so arrogant and domineering, but in this instant, he suddenly feels an exhaustion wash over him trying to keep that going. He's kept it going for so long, he forgot that he doesn't like doing it with you. You don't deserve to be a part of all of this, and he doesn't deserve to want you.

Oh how he loathes his true identity: A simple man. A human man. Your man.

When he can't take it anymore, he slowly creeps his bandaged hand on top of yours, applying light pressure, but his eyes don't dare look into yours. Not yet. Finally, you break the silence, staring down with furrowed brows at the way your hands fit around one another. You mutter under your breath, tired of being vague.

"What are we to each other, Dazai? I mean really?"

"Do I really need to spell it out for you?" He snorts, trying to cling to the last of his cruelty but failing as he lets his emotions sway his judgement.

You sigh, flipping your hand over so that your fingers can fully intertwine.

"I just don't know how I could ever take up any space in your mind. I didn't think you noticed whether I stayed or left."

He looks up, flashing you a mildly offended look, his sharp eyes narrowing. He scoffs quietly, dropping your hand and standing up from his desk. He walks over to you, his full height now looming. He bends down and scolds you.

"What an obscene thing to say. You're invaluable. You have always been occupying my mind, every minute, every second, every microsecond. I always notice. I'd notice even if I was on my deathbed."

Your breath catches in your throat, and you finally manage to swallow the lump that's building up as you stare up at your reckoning.

"I just- I'd never try to leash you, sir."

His eyes soften, and he tilts his head slightly. You drive him mad with the way you don't realize what a dog he is for you. His voice comes out strained.

"You wouldn't need to. And don't call me that. You know my name, and as your superior l'm ordering you to address me properly."

Your cheeks flush, and you part your lips, letting out the breath you can't stop holding. A faint smile appears on your face, and you stand up slowly to meet him.

"You're like the moon, you know? You control everything like the tides. You control me, Osamu."

He shakes his head, and sighs deeply. If only you could see how wrong you were. He steps closer, moving his hand up your arm gently as he trails his way to your collarbone with ghost-like strokes.

"Did you know that sometimes when I'm laying in bed, all alone after a long day of controlling things, my only thoughts are about you?"

He confesses, sincerely. Dazai brings his face inches from yours, his voice now becoming a pleading whisper. His hand travels down to your waist, gripping it gently.

"Do you find it hard to believe that you bring me to my knees, the big scary Port Mafia boss? Because if so, you're a great fool! I love spending my time with you. I quite literally need you by my side in my times of need and at any random and mundane moment that passes. It brings me unimaginable joy when you nag me to get more sleep, especially when I don't listen because I can't wait to hear you say it over and over again. I don't like it when you have plans, or when you report to anyone else but me. I want you to stay with me tonight and every single night after and I don't care how awful this sounds. I don't care about you having a life outside of me."

Your throat feels tight, eyes wide at the fervor of his words alone. You reply with a shaky breath.

"Every single night after?"

"Every. Single. Night. After..."

"As if we were together?"

"We are together." He declares as if it were obvious this entire time.

Hearing Dazai be so blunt makes your mind fog over quickly, a whiplash of feelings that you never thought would ever see the light of day suddenly surface. He feels the same, realizing how much he's given away to you in such a short amount of time, but for him it's been rotting inside for years. He's been held together by the glue of your support too long not to kneel for you now. It's over for him, he's run out of masks to wear. He slowly guides your body backwards towards the opulent leather couch at the center of the room. You stop when you feel yourself backing up into the cool pebbled hide, and he slowly lowers you down onto your back with his arms supporting you. He delicately hovers over you, looking deeply into your eyes as he takes in the way your bodies feel against each other. For a moment he worries he might actually be trembling.

His breath hitches when you place a hand on the bandaged side of his face that covers his left eye. You stroke the fabric lightly, eyes twinkling with unfiltered adoration. He thinks about the only other person who's ever looked at him with such reverence, and how painful it is not to be able to tell his best friend he's in love. He leans into your touch, humming softly and closing his eyes as he molds his lips deeply into yours. It's not a kiss of sexual desire. This is a kiss born of romance and intimacy, a mutual oath of surrender. cold bandaged hands instinctively wander your body, starting at the waist down to your hips, and slowly exploring the plush of your thighs, kneading them. He runs them higher, lightly tracing your ribs with his index finger while the other hand cups your face. Dazai's mouth moves gently, and slowly pulls away from yours with a soft whine. His fingers trace your jawline as he stares at you. You taste like milk and honey. Like the moon and rain. He smiles at you, eyes sparkling like the night sky. You feel his heartbeat against your body. Every single pore of your skin is connected.

"Please— don't leave the Port Mafia, and don't leave me alone... Not tonight. Not ever. I'd become a tyrant without you."

"Is that also an order?" You murmur in between shallow breaths, dreamy eyes trained on him.

His eyes flicker over to your lips for a moment, then return to your eyes. His voice drops to something that resembles a soft whimper.

"Noo. No, it's not. I could never demand anything from you. But if you'll allow me to act selfishly, I just want to make you happy, to see you smile. I want you to keep greeting me with that tea you make every morning before our meetings. I also never want to hear you call me 'Sir' again. I am not your boss or your friend... I'm so much more than that. We've always been together. We will always be together— Is this too much?"

You shake your head, smiling uncontrollably at the way Dazai rambles in this moment, it's a side of him you've never seen in all the years you've known him. A stark contrast from the detached and cruel presence that frightens others on an almost daily basis. This seems like a person pretending to be the boss of the Port Mafia, an almost perfect imitation. You're not sure what barriers within him had to break for him to become the mushy and needy mess you see before you and what it all means in the long run, but you dismiss it for now. You get the feeling this might be the real Osamu Dazai. And that excites you.

"Never too much. I'm here and I'm staying. I would always stay."

He chuckles, it's a broken shaky laugh bordering on a sob. He buries himself in your neck, smiling against your soft skin, nibbling on it. He lightly runs his tongue against the mark he leaves, and slowly lifts his gaze to meet yours

"... I know you would. You always do."

You tilt your head, and hum in mild confusion at his odd little comment.

"Do you know something I don't?"

He flashes you a knowing smile and speaks prophetically as he lightly traces a finger over a large vein on your neck, following it down to your soft chest. He murmurs lazily while bringing his lips down to where he won't be able to get them off for the rest of the night.

"I know everything, silly.~"

The Port Mafia can wait, he's going home first.

[rillils]

You know, for so long I tried to pinpoint what exactly about the bank vault scene from CATWS was so exquisitely painful to me (aside from, well, the obvious bits), and I think maybe I finally got it.

This is immediately after the causeway fight and Bucky's interaction with Steve - a brief exchange where, I think, he got to hear Steve's voice for the first time since '45; hell, where somebody called Bucky's real name for the first time since '45, and where Bucky was just forced to really look at Steve, as something other than a target or an obstacle to his mission.

And Bucky hasn't been the same since. Imagine him turning those precious few seconds over and over in his mind on his way back to the bank, trying to make sense of the feelings stirring in his gut.

He can't stop thinking about it. Steve's face is familiar (and when has Bucky been able to associate the word familiar with anything else in the last seventy years?). It brings flashes of long-buried memories back to the surface - perhaps not enough to put the whole story together, but that's not the point here.

The point is, Bucky's gone back to his handler - Pierce. This is the man Bucky defers to, the man he depends on; the man Bucky trusts to tell him who he is, and what his purpose is, and what his life amounts to; the man whose orders Bucky obeys blindly, wordlessly, because Pierce knows best.

Pierce is the brain here; he is authority, he is power, he is cunning: his word is law. He commands Bucky, even guides him in a sense - in a horrible, twisted kind of irony - like a father does his child. He provides a secure fixture in Bucky's existence, a pillar of trust and truth.

Bucky, on the other hand, is only the tool here - the fist of hydra. He doesn't make the big decisions, he doesn't know what's happening in the world out there beyond what Pierce tells him, he doesn't understand the artfulness, the finesse behind these games of power Pierce seems born to play. And how would he, with his scattered brain?

He simply has to trust Pierce's word. Whatever Pierce tells him, that will be the unquestionable truth to him. The Soldier may doubt himself, but never his handler.

AND YET.

And yet right here, right now, Bucky dares to defy this once unbreakable rule.

Bucky brings to Pierce this question that's been churning inside him, that just won't leave him alone. He doesn't really know what it means; all he knows is that it's important, so important that he's willing to risk being sent on a jolly ride on the electroshock chair, just in the attempt to bring this to the light.

And the darndest thing happens, because even when Pierce tries to distract him with his whole "a gift to mankind" spiel, even when he tries to dismiss Bucky's question as to who Steve is, denying any deeper tie to him than "you saw him earlier this week on another assignment", Bucky doesn't believe him.

This poor boy, he's got every reason to doubt himself, every reason to rely on Pierce and take his word at face value (Pierce's word is law, remember?), and yet.

For the first time, Bucky's doubting this man's word, and trusting his own broken mind instead.

Those few seconds where Steve looked at him, gave him a name, saw him in a way nobody has seen him since before he can remember, have sparked something dangerously, unexpectedly powerful within Bucky. Something that runs much, much deeper than any brainwashing; something that gives him the strength and stubborness to question his handler's word, to go so far as to insist (!) that he knew the man he saw on the bridge, to refuse to let this be dismissed, because. Because Bucky knew him. He doesn't know how or why, but he knows this, and he knows that it's important, so important that he needs to hold onto it for as long as he can. This feels personal, intimate - this thing, this truth belongs to him, and he's trying to defend it, even as completely vulnerable and defenseless as he is.

I think that's why it gets to me, because, fuck - even as confused and scared and miserable as he is, even when being compliant and letting this drop would spare him a world of excruciating pain, even when he's been conditioned to think of himself as only a machine and of his handler as his only god, omniscient and omnipotent and infallible, Steve - all of Steve, Steve's place in Bucky's memory, in his heart, in his life - is the only truth Bucky never doubts, and he refuses to deny it. He knows what's coming - Pierce's command to "wipe him" doesn't seem to surprise him at all - but still he refuses to let this go.

Like!!! Fuck!!!!!!!! That's how deeply rooted his love for Steve is!! That's the kind of hold it's got on him!!! That's how much he'd risk for the chance to hold onto the faintest memory of him! Five seconds spent looking in Steve’s eyes and he's ready to overturn and upend and second-guess the very basis of his existence as he knows it. How fucking powerful is that?

I just, I just can't deal with this wtf 😭😭

[scribefindegil]

As much as I adore conlangs, I really like how the Imperial Radch books handle language. The book is entirely in English but you're constantly aware that you're reading a "translation," both of the Radchaai language Breq speaks as default, and also the various other languages she encounters. We don't hear the words but we hear her fretting about terms of address (the beloathed gendering on Nilt) and concepts that do or don't translate (Awn switching out of Radchaai when she needs a language where "citizen," "civilized," and "Radchaai person" aren't all the same word) and noting people's registers and accents. The snatches of lyrics we hear don't scan or rhyme--even, and this is what sells it to me, the real-world songs with English lyrics, which get the same "literal translation" style as everything else--because we aren't hearing the actual words, we're hearing Breq's understanding of what they mean. I think it's a cool way to acknowledge linguistic complexity and some of the difficulties of multilingual/multicultural communication, which of course becomes a larger theme when we get to the plot with the Presgar Translators.

[mellosdrawings]

May I ask what you like about Jamilkal?

Oh my gods ok Imma try not to infodump but also stay clear while I'm rambling.

So, mostly I'm a "platonic soulmates KaliJami" believer. It's less about romance or lust or whatever else and more about them just... gravitating around each other in a way that simply cannot be described with the words we usually associate with love.

Especially since you gotta add the hatred/hurt aspect to it all. The power imbalance. The fucked up situation they're both in. The traumas they've both gone through.

They love each other. They hate each other. They need each other. They keep sabotaging each other. They can't imagine their lives away from the other. They drag each other down and themselves all the time. They care so much for each other. They keep hurting each other.

It's all about tragedy. There is no way for them to heal and get a better relationship but by being separated. But they could never willingly part ways from each other. They'd need to be forcefully pulled apart, and even then they'd probably fight tooth and nail to get back to the other. Even when they're apart they can't stop thinking about each other. The other is seared in their DNA at this point, it'd be like cutting a limb to force them away from each other.

You might think "yeah but Jamil tried to kill Kalim." While he was overblotting, yes. As did all the overblotters, whether or not they loved the people they were attempting to hurt or not. But Jamil, while he did try to ruin Kalim's reputation and have him leave the school, never intended on hurting him. He could have done so much worse, Kalim and his family have so much faith in him, and the only thing he did was trying to get Kalim fired. He would have ended back under the Asim service as soon as school was done. He never meant to get rid of him forever, just push him away long enough so he could find himself.

Which he couldn't. Because fate simply refuses to leave them separated. Because Kalim or his father insisted they stayed together. And now you might think that Kalim is the one pushing this relationship, but have you heard just how much Jamil refers to Kalim? Kalim can live without Jamil, but damn is Jamil obsessed with Kalim. To an unhealthy extent.

Yes it's because of his upbringing. Yes it's because he fears for his and his family's sake. Yes it's because he's an overbearing mom friend. Doesn't change the fact that he has Kalim under his skin 24/7.

The point isn't that it's healthy. They could never be healthy together, no matter how much they try to change their dynamic. Jamil stifles Kalim's growth by being overbearing. Kalim stifles Jamil's growth by constantly relying on him. They feed off each other. Their flaws feed off each other. They just keep making each other worse.

And that's just such an interesting dynamic to explore. They're made for each other but they can't be together. Their story can only end well if they separate. It's as tragic as you could make.

So yeah. That's why I love KaliJami. They're a tragedy. They gonna burn together and they're gonna do it clinging to each other.

And boy, if that ain't love.

[crustyfloor]

This is so fucking sick.

[aethersea]

I saw a post proposing that the reason the Doctor always ends up on Gallifrey at a time after he last left it but before the next time he'll visit, and other Time Lords similarly are all showing up on Gallifrey in a chronological manner, is that the TARDIS just handles it. and that is great! but I would like to propose that, as well as and alongside this, Time Lords have a biological like-calls-to-like thing going on that means they're extremely unlikely to encounter each other out of order. it's like how birds can sense north. Time Lords can sense each other, and are repelled (like magnets) by other Time Lords who are at a mismatched point in their chronology.

the TARDIS is handling it, but she's doing that partly by avoiding any time & place where the Doctor's spidey sense starts tingling. (the Doctor is not aware of this.) that's why the Doctor and the Master don't run into past/future incarnations of each other: any time one of them aims for a planet the other is already on, if they'd be running into each other out of order, they get the heebie jeebies and turn around.

[dreamsy990]

Draw werewolf Ody having an identity crisis

how fucked up must it be to no longer be human

[speakingviscera]

Hullo you wanted requests so here she is!

My dnd character named Wurm! She was raised by giant owls and can also partially turn into one. How can she do this you may ask? The owls taught her.

ive never drawn iguanas before, so hopefully i did good :0 i love wyrms design sm btw

[wreckedhoney]

MASSIVE SPOILER for one of the endings.

it's been a while since i tried looking, but i did hear that something like this happens last year and over time started to think, "was it a fluke?" bc no one posted footage or caps of it then, and i aimed for a completionist run in my first playthrough. turns out it's real! and definitely shines a new light on a character that, for most other types of playthroughs, will not give this much emotion! EDIT: transcript now included, and some stillshots under the cut

[0:28] Marie: Henry, this is the man who kept you from doing the right thing tonight. Kill him. [0:15] Forrest: Henry, you don’t have to do this. If you’ve not killed anyone yet, there’s still time to make the right decision. [0:05] Out of shot: (Gunshots) Henderson Police! Freeze! Marie: No! Henry, get out of there!

[hercarisntyours]

a shortfire way to make me crash out is just to say "it's complicated"

[stemmmm]

ive been watching 3 people do intensive surgery on a fanfic for i think at least 6 hours now this shits insane

[howifeltabouthim]

I can still feel the exact weight of you, fixed to me firmer than friends' embraces, than the bodies of lovers.

Abigail Dean, from The Death of Us

[big-important-nothing]

I wish I didn't have work sigh...I want to draw more!

I have another idea for after I finish my current illustration...of Randall working on Firth's farm, all sweaty and happy and beaming from a hard day's work.

I feel like people don't talk enough about his life in Craggy Dale. He spent the latter half of his life there. Literally, half of his life. Even ignoring my own personal headcanons for what happens post-game, I think Randall would most certainly grieve that portion of his life once it's over...

For what it's worth, I like to think he enjoyed it there, despite the depressive lack of clarity/closure in his fruitless attempts to recover his memories. I think it was great for him in ways he couldn't articulate... :-(

[balkanlila]

everyone talks themselves into a life that suits them best