ANSSYYYY MATEYYY i just listened to a new song,and I was wondering if ye could make it into something >:DD
"*I tried to get the waiter's attention by blinking in morse code*"
"Why are you blinking so much?"
"I got something in my eye"
"Here let me get it out"
"No thank you!"
I felt like it would've been perfect for a Yan date scenario B]]
-🦀
I know what song you're talking abt but I cannot make it into a yandere idea without thinking about human centipedes lmfao I don't think the world is ready for me to write abt a fricking human centipede x reader. Even I'm not ready for that hAHAHAHAHWHA–
Although ngl, this feels more like a Dazai or Fyodor thing from Bungou Stray Dogs. I can imagine them signaling someone while on a date with their darling in morse code, blinking phrases like "prepare the towel (chloroform)" or maybe something as simple as "get the ring (engagement ring)" to their accomplices so they'll either kidnap the reader or force them in an uncomfortable situation that'll make things harder to reject the yandere.
I can imagine this more with Dazai. That bastard would just smirk and go "No thank you! I'm perfectly fine, belladonna!".
At that point, you wish you didn't bother asking that question. His unblinking stare is much more unnerving.
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What will S Tord do when he learns that R Tord slept with his Tom? Love the blog!❤️😘
cw: Slight suggestive talk (I just talk about safewords idk Im ace shut up ruskdnfe)
I really doubt STom would let it go that far, sure he might let RTord get a little bit spicy with him but he would DEFINITELY feel that something is off from there. His Tord is just as much of a perv as RTord is, but his brand of degeneracy has a respectful flavor to it, yknow?? The kind of degeneracy with a safeword.
RTord does not know their safeword, his husband always asks him if he remembers it whenever they start getting intimate, STom would ABSOLUTELY start clocking on that this man is NOT his husband.
Though, even so, just the fact that he got far enough would probably lead STord to initiate a smack down and boy howdy, RTord is in the body of an ailing old man right now and STord is NOT afraid to exacerbate his disabilities.
He will ABSOLUTELY throw down with a crippled man and right now?? He’s a decade younger and his bones dont hurt LETS GO WEABOO BITCH
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so i went to reblog some fanart earlier and started to tag it #oh this is. incredible actually, and then paused and thought, @self why the 'actually.' what is that adverb conveying. and i contemplated it for a bit, and finally concluded: well, shit. it's reflexive deprecation.
the thing is, deprecation is my starting position pretty much always, and that's a problem in itself, but mostly my problem; but when you're talking abt somebody else's work, and you start backing defensively away from imagined negativity before anyone's even actually voiced any? you may think you're playing bodyguard, but in reality you're the vanguard of the assault, opening a wedge for enemy forces to strike.
i was talking a couple of weeks ago abt seeing ppl tag that kristin sue lucas name-multiplied-by-one post with tags like 'this is art To Me' vel sim., and honestly i think it's a similar sort of reflex—i think exposure to the tumblr vernacular often leads people (very much including me!) to produce turns of phrase like this, that ultimately serve to convey roughly
'i, a clever girlblogger,¹ am, yeah, engaging with this frivolous hai pollai²-coded material; but my relationship to it, unlike that of most she-ple, is Intellectual and Analytical and Examined! and to make that clear, i'll be dropping in these little verbal particles from time to time, in order to distinguish my own, elevated examination of the subject from the state of risible naivete³ i'm implicitly ascribing to the other, more ordinary audience members i'm conjuring up only to instantly put down—but like, it's fine, i'm a free-and-easy girlblogger(TM), so you can't think i'd ever deliberately propagate establishmentarian prejudices! never mind the effect my rhetoric might subconsciously be having, on me or on anyone else…'
and i think this framing is worth squinting at, and worth attempting to excise from one's speech and from one's mindset, because when you get right down to it? it's just yet another insidious manifestation of respectability politics, that's gotten people to adopt it via the cuckoo-chick strategy of positioning itself as cutesy tumblr idiolect.
and like, circling back around to that fanart i mentioned at the outset: yeah, the tag did feel weirdly prosodically truncated to me without that 'actually'! but this way, if the artist ends up seeing my discussion of their work in their notes, they won't be getting slapped in the face with a wet dead fish first, so like. what's more important, you know?
⸻
¹ ""(gender neutral)""
² https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hoi_polloi in the feminine, if i haven't totally fumbled my declensions…
³ phrasing nicked from a comment of @proudheron's.
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Once upon a midnight dreary
Tw: for blood, violence, grief, and other dark themes!!
Next chapter
Library
Chapter 1: Melancholy
Anger was travelling down my veins as I held the knife tight. I could see the dim light of the moonlight shinning through the open window as I hid in the shadows. I could hear the footsteps of the nurses, and Dr. Gubberson running through the halls trying to find me. My hands began to tremble as I became madder than before at the thought of facing Dr. Gubberson face to face again. I had enough that I was sent to the institution thanks to him, but I was not going to let him win over once again.
I was not going without a fight
I was not going to leave without revenge
I was not going to leave without proving I was not insane
I was going to prove I did not murder my own father….
Everything…everything began once upon a midnight dreary while my heart pondered and my father’s blood was tainted the wooden floor of his office while I became weary. His heart was still. There was no pulse, not breath, and his eyes were open wide. They were empty, with no sign or spark that once shunned in those, now, glass-like green eyes. I could feel my weary body tremble as I crumbled to the ground letting a painful cry as I reached towards my father’s body as I desperately tried to search- no… as I tried to fool myself into thinking that he was alive…
I desperately compressed against his inanimate heart. It did not move.
My hands and night gown were tainted in blood as my tears ran down my face.
He was cold as ice. Dead as a matter of fact…
I dropped to the ground as my arms began to fail. My cries began to fade as I gently, ever so slowly reached towards my father’s body as I clutch it into a painful embrace. Blood was pretty much tainting me, making my curled red tresses of hair even darker than before. I could barely even blink due as it was getting into my eyelids; but I did not care. I couldn’t even care at all. I had no reason to care at all…
My father was dead, and nothing more.
I can’t recall how long I was there, sobbing as I embraced my father, but it was long enough for the police to come to the manor and forcefully drag me away from the study regardless of my protests. I was sent to change my clothes and bathe off the blood from my body as the housemaids forced me to abide with their orders. The shower was cold, but I had no strength to even fight nor complain. My mind was set on wondering when could I ever return to my father’s studies again. Everything that I wanted was to lay next to my father’s body one last time…before he would be taken to the morgue for an autopsy.
I knew the answer to my wishes…but I tried to submerge it into the last bit of hope that remained inside my body.
I was sent to bed after showering and changing clothes. That was the last word I heard from the police that night as they took my father’s body. I did not bother to fight to see his lifeless eyes one more time as it would be all in vain. That was a battle I could not win, nor that staring at my father’s corpse would make him look nearly alive.
It was just only that….and nothing more
“Father…” My lips trembled as my hands rested against the gold glass from the window. My watery eyes focused on the police’s carriages and horses sitting on our front garden, while a lumpy figured wrapped in a cloth tainted with blood was brought inside in one of the carriages.
Clank!
That was the last time I saw the last remain of my father as he was gone once the police continued on…
Clank….Clank!
I stood silently for the next few hours of that night, ignoring my trembling legs begging me to rest, as the groaning and moaning of the bells that sung in the police cars rang through my ears blocking every sound or complaint from the outside word. I could hear the bells…the bells that announced that my father, Dr. Manfred Ruckus, was dead…
Clank! Clank!
“Riley, go to sleep!” I could hear the mumbling, almost a distorted whisper from the manor maids.
Clank! Clank!
The bells…the bells…that sung when the maids found me on despair at the study.
“Master Ruckus is gone…”
Clank! Clank! Clank!
The bells….the retched damn bells that would eventually haunt me every night….
Clank!
Clank!
Clank!
Clank!
The same bells that sung when my mother drowned…
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