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asmo-cosmetics · 14 days

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i am about to be just as annoying about lucio as i am about julian i CANNOT with this shit

list of things lucio has done wrong, according to morga:

- was born

- was sick

- did not enjoy chores

- ran away when he was getting attacked by a bear

- had pretty fantastic survival instincts especially for a child that age?? if morga hadn't killed it the musk bear probably would have left on its own eventually?? "hide and wait for help" is literally what we teach children to do in emergencies irl?? i hate this bitch

- "turned into a liar" (read: was lied to by her so many times that she literally skewed his perception of himself)

- chose a different name (very cool, "identity inclusive" game studio)

- took the hint of something she wanted him to do (kill his father)

- realized he probably could not do that the exact same way his mother would have done it because they are two different people with two different sets of abilities

- found a clever way around that in order to accomplish the goal in his own way without doing something he had less confidence in his ability to achieve

- expected love in return for doing as he was told

- ran away when she tried to kill him

- ran away when she tried to kill him 2, the sequel

hello??? HELLO??? i'm losing my everloving mind. as always not a debate i will block you 🩷

#the arcana game #the arcana #lucio morgasson #wank //#the arcana writers really said child abuse is ok. actually a better solution would have been more child abuse #they really said this story about a little boy getting treated like shit his entire life is so much less sad than #rich girl with adoring family feels kinda ignored sometimes #don't you feel so bad.... FOR NADIA FOR HAVING TO BE MARRIED TO HIM go away i am SO tired

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livingfast04 · 1 year

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Monster Au? - Part 6

one two three four five II seven Tw: Body Horror, disordered Eating, anxiety, dehumanization, refences to past child abuse, depression, suicidal thoughts, very mild nudity (not descriptive, it's just brief mention of being naked) It might get worse from here. Sorry not sorry ---

Steve stares at himself, all long monster-ish limbs, the lines of his ribcage. His fingers shake as he reaches up to hover his hands over the concave of his stomach, he stares at his reflection, at the unnatural long fingers- his thin fingers, discolored nail beds and the freckles that cover the backs of his hands, trace up his arms.

He doesn’t recognize the thing that stares back at him.

The bones that rest so visibly under his skin, the vivid violet mark across his neck. Mama says it’ll scar, just like his stomach, it’ll scar worse since it’s all so old. Steve’s ears twitch, ducking his head to hide his eyes under his hair. The wavy strands are too long, this form gone too long without a haircut, his bangs just slightly brush over the top of his lip.

He wants to shorten them, wants the strands to tuck back across his forehead. Steve reaches up, he curls his fingers around the hair, hands shaking with visible tremors as he does. It rattles in front of his face. The white scars over his knuckles, eyes darting down to his hand still posed just over his sides. The scars there.

The only parts that have actually healed. Of course it’s his hands. The smaller marks, the cuts, scared over, pale and disgusting. The new bite marks on his palm, the imprint of jagged teeth. His own sharp teeth. On his other palm is a darker set of scarred skin, more flower-like- more deformed. A monster more monster than those who live in this world.

His hands healed the fastest. The rest of his body struggled to catch up. Steve turned his gaze back to the mirror, met the dark eyes blinking back at him from behind his fringe. There’s the familiar relief, even at his dislike for the longer strands of hair- pushing the waves out of his eyes. He traces the crook in his nose, the small white scars that line his left eye-

Billy Hargroves handy work.

The scar on his chin, arched up and speared over his lips- the scar tissue was rough, he ran his tongue over it. The scar around his eye, both Russians and Hargrove. Steve lets out a long breath. He stares at the thing that looks back at him, moves with him, blinks when he does.

It’s nauseating.

Mama clicks from down the hall, Steve turns and his throat is raw as he calls back on instinct, the noise is weak and hardly passes his lips. Mama calls again, stronger- she’s looking for him, Da clicks from his office. Steve grabs the sweater sitting on the counter, pulling it over his head before remembering the rows of stitches and the bandages he’s supposed to cover them with. It doesn’t matter. Steve stumbles out of the bathroom, Mama is standing in the bedroom- their bedroom. Steve feels like a baby, a cub- tucked away in their nest. His parents had hardly let him leave the room, his Mama clicked at him, Steve ducked his head behind his hair- he wasn’t complaining.

All his parents expected of him was to eat, sleep, and cuddle. And god did Steve want to snuggle back up in their bed with

them. Mama crossed the room, her fingers tracing over his face, pushing Steve’s hair out of his eyes gently. “How are you feeling?” Steve leans into the touch, his Mama letting out a soft coo.

“Better.” The word felt clunky in his mouth, with sharp teeth, and scars that stretch on his skin. He hasn’t said much of anything lately, other than rough clicks, and a few single words here or there. Throat too raw, the feeling of his tongue against his teeth foreign.

Mama hummed, continuing to drag her fingers through his hair. She cupped his jaw, his ears twitched, pressing his cheek into her hold. “There’s a snack out on the counter in the kitchen for you. Even if you aren’t all that hungry you have to eat one of them.” Steve wrinkled his nose, but gave a soft click in agreement. Least of all he starts an argument or displeases his parents and they leave him.

His chest was tight at the thought.

Steve trailed after his Mother as she left the room, her form shifting a little, hair curling up around the nape of her neck and turning a soft honey blonde. Steve swallowed around nothing as he passed her to head to the kitchen. She clicked loud enough that Steve could hear her, and his Father responded.

There was an unopened cup of yogurt on the table, and a bowl of fruit. His teeth ached, pulling out a stool at the counter- he dropped down onto it, legs twisting up to rest on the seat.

Steve’s hands shook as he picked out a strawberry from the bowl, pressing it against the roof of his mouth, squishing the soft fruit. Mama had added sugar, his fingers sticky as he kept just picking out the soft fruits. A few grapes, a few orange slices- but mostly strawberries.

Steve licked at his fingers, shifting his weight on the stool as his knee started to ache. He could hear his parents talking, it was muffled, and sounded a little bit like he was underwater. If they wanted him to know, they’d talk about it where he could see them. If anything it was probably about work, Steve squished another piece of fruit against the roof of his mouth, and he really didn’t care to think about them leaving him again.

He can’t, it’ll ruin him. Steve picks at the few apples in the bowl, digging his nail into the fruit.

Mama brushes through the house, Steve twisted slightly to watch her as she came into the kitchen she tugged on a piece of his hair. Da followed her in, brushing his hand over Steve’s shoulder. He also picks up a piece of apple from the bowl of fruit.

Steve can’t stop himself from lifting his lips, growling at him, shoulders tense and lifted up by his ears. His thoughts tumble from his hands with little grace, the low noise claws up his throat- fingers digging into the ceramic of the bowl and dragging it towards him. Eyes flicking from his Father’s frozen fingers, and his Mother’s face.

His growl tapers off, lips still curled. Steve’s hair falling in his face from where Mama had pushed it back. The tension in the room was almost tangible, Steve felt shame flood his face, and he fumbled, he was mortified. His parents where just staring at him, “Sorry- sorry, I-”

They were going to leave again, they were going to leave him again- They were going to leave him, they know- they know he’s a monster

Steve’s body protested as he all but fell off the stool as he struggled to get his leg unwound to stand up. His heart hammered in his throat, “I didn’t-” the words came out rough, and garbled. Da makes a soft click, followed by a soothing noise- Steve jerks at the noise, ears flicking sharply.

He shuffles away from the counter, shoving the bowl of fruit towards his Father. Steve avoided eye contact, shoulders hunched, his sides protested, his whole body hurts. Mama coos, “Stephan.” Father’s voice is sharp, he jerks a little at the tone. Steve won’t meet his eyes, but he knows better that it’ll be worse if he doesn’t at least look in the direction of his Father.

There’s a soft scraping noise as the bowl is pushed on the countertop. “You are alright Bub.” His voice is firm, but soft, “It’s yours, I wasn’t thinking.” Food possessive, aggressive. Steve follows the length of his old man’s hand, the apple still in his fingers. Steve blinks, stumbling slightly as he reaches back of the bowl, curling his arms around it and lifting it to his chest.

It’s sad, just a little, that Steve’s clinging to a bowl like a child clings to a toy. He knows it is, his father holds out the apple slice, he jerks at the sudden movement, shuffling back a little bit, lips curling.

Face flushed, shame curling in his stomach, but something heavy in his chest.

“Just- keep it.” He shuffled out of the kitchen, and into the living room. Retreating, away- just get away. Steve avoided the furniture, it still smelled like The Party, Mama had ordered all new sets of things, but it wasn’t due to arrive for a few more weeks.

Steve clung to the bowl, body aching as he fled. Pressing his back against the wall, sliding down to sit in the corner.

His parents' voices were quiet, and he stared down at the mix of fruit. They were going to remember he isn’t worth the effort eventually. That they never thought he was worth the effort.

They were going to realize just like The Party had, that Steve was useless.

---

Eddie curled his legs closer to his chest, the blanket was sticking to his legs, his sheets, honestly his hair was in his face and couldn’t care less. It had been far too long since he’d let himself linger, wallow, lay in his own misery. Eddie won’t say he misses it, it doges his footsteps outside of his room. It’s just harder to avoid now.

Clinging to imprint bonds he’s angry at having- clinging to a bond that he should have loved a little more.

He knows this upsets Wayne, knows it because his Uncle is loud about his dislike for Eddie’s mild comatose state every time he does it. And it’s- it’s not like Eddie wallows a lot, it’s hard to, because he has to get up- has to check on people, see them, know they are okay. And sure, Eddie knows, he’s a dramatic person at heart.

But this is different.

Normally it’s like this because he’s upset, when sadness clings and doesn’t let go. Eddie’s never been rendered numb by anger before. He’s fucked this all up because he thought he knew the most.

That in and of itself is a common mistake of his. Thinking he knows all because he should, because Eddie knows best. He’s a firm believer that he's never wrong, at least until he is. This, this isn’t a simple fuck up. This is a fuck up of all fuck ups.

Everything’s been riding on holding on to the idea that he hasn’t screwed this all up this badly, for three weeks, he’s been living in anger- and in guilt, and in shame. And now- now he’s just empty.

Mind narrowed in on the rough thump of Steve’s heart beat, the shaky nervousness of the younger heartbeat. It’s easier this way, to ignore the fact that if he gives in and goes to Steve, everyone’s just winning at the end of the day. Everyone but Steve.

Eddie won’t participate, he won’t, he won’t get involved, he won’t slowly kill Steve again. No matter how many calls the kids make to the trailer, no matter how many times the radio goes off for someone to shout at him. Eddie refuses.

Imprinting is sacred, and they all know that. Eddie would rather- he would rather, Eddie swallows- his tongue a heavy weight in his mouth. He can hear Wayne talking to someone in the living room, he knows that a few of the kids have been actually over, banging on the door, shouting- especially after Eddie turned off the walkie.

He blinks, staring at nothing.

There’s a door shutting, and footsteps down the hall. His door creaks open, Eddie doesn’t move, doesn’t even feel like breathing- then he’ll get a mouth full of whoever it is, whose disappointment and anger he has to face. “You can’t hold your breath forever.” Gareth.

Eddie lets out a shaky breath, curling his fingers a little more around the blanket in his fist. “You know when Wayne told me you where wallowing, I almost wanted to tell him to fuck off.” It would be valid, all of his friends would be within their right to tell him to eat shit and die.

Gareth flopped down on the other side of Eddie’s bed. The weight caused him to move slightly, “But, then he explained it… I should still tell you to fuck off.” He should, he should- it would be more than Eddie deserved, this was more than Eddie deserved. “Collector of strays and you kicked Harrington to the curb the second he wasn’t unnatural?” Gareth was only partially supernatural, witchy but not quite. Eddie knows the other doesn’t fully practice his bloodline.

He was just as human as anyone else is, even with magic in his blood. “That was shitty.”

“Y’ah.” Eddie doesn’t recognize his own voice, his lips are dry and the movement cracks them. Gareth makes a noise, and Eddie blinks a little harder.

They sat in silence for a while longer, the fan running in the background was good filler for space- at least for Gareth, maybe Eddie wouldn’t know. Too busy using Steve’s heartbeat as background noise, his brain unfogged a little at the lack of tunnel vision.

Gareth poked him in the ribs with his elbow, “You stink.” Eddie hummed, letting out a soft mmm sound at the comment. He probably did, no, he did. Eddie had been laying unmoving in this bed for people over a week. Drifting between sleep and completely zoned out. He can’t remember the last time he ate anything, or the last time he got up to go to the bathroom.

Not that he really needed to do those things, Vampire and all. Well he did, but it wasn't super necessary, not for short term living. Eddie couldn’t lay here forever, sure he’d live for years like this before eventually his mind would crumble, and what little beating his heart would do would just stop.

That would be kinder than what they were doing to Steve.

“You should shower.” Probably. Eddie didn’t make a noise this time, kept quiet, didn’t have the energy to really respond, didn’t want to move, didn’t want to get up. Gareth jabbed him again, and he twisted on base reaction - his body jerking away from the aggressive movement. “Alright I’m done,” Gareth shoved him, hard. Eddie wasn’t unfamiliar with falling out of his own bed, but never this violently. He jerked letting out a loud unhappy hiss, fumbling to grab anything at the sudden movement before landing face first on the carpeted floor. His forehead knocking hard, and the responding thump rattled the items on the walls of the trailer.

It’s like something sharp has popped his bubble, something pressing on his skin, anger welling up in his throat. “What the fuck.” The words are muffled in the carpet, rough and Eddie can’t even identify the tone in his own voice. He can hear Gareth moving around his bed, “What the fuck.” The tone is mocking, mimicking, “You are the most annoying motherfucker in this forsaken town, and you are worse when you feel like you’ve wronged someone. Or you know. So you are going to get your sorry ass out of this goddamn trailer, and apologize. Or so help me, I will take your fucking Guitar and sell it to some punk fuck in Indy.”

Eddie twists his head around, to just stare at him. He slowly processes the words, Eddie works his jaw, careful to keep his teeth from touching, his lip curls without his permission. “Don’t y’u fuck’n dare.” His fangs dig into his lower lip, face flushing hot as his lisp regestures.

Gareth doesn’t look amused with him in the slightest. “Go take a fucking shower.” His retreating form almost mocks Eddie, almost. The carpet is rough on his skin, a cast off belt is digging into his stomach. Curling his fingers, Eddie pushes himself up on his elbows and struggles to sit back on his knees.

Vision spinning, head rush, vertigo, dizzy spell- didn’t matter. He breathed heavily through his nose before stumbling to his feet, swaying in place, room giving a valiant effort to move around him.

Standing in the hallway between the living room, Wayne’s door- and the bathroom. Eddie made eye contact with Gareth, who was just staring at him. Opening and then closing his mouth, his eyebrows furrowed. There was nothing to say, Eddie was- he hissed, more at himself than anything else and jerked his gaze down to stare at the carpet.

Even if it was a new trailer, it was still the same old muddy as fuck trailer park. The carpet was tracked through, over- he doesn’t know the exact term. It doesn’t matter, he stares at the mud stains instead of looking at Wayne or Gareth. Least his shame climb out of his skin, shed his muscles on the floor and bare its gnarled teeth for the rest of the world to see.

“I can smell you from here.” Eddie’s shoulders hitch up by his ears.

His fangs are still down, pressing sharply against his lower lip, and he grables out “I’m fuckin goin’.” around the awkward shape of his teeth at his friend and stumbles into the wall when he turns around. Eddie jerks, stepping back on shaky legs, he shakes himself off.

Embarrassment doesn't even claw its way to the surface, Eddie swallows, his tongue dry, pressing against the back of his teeth, running over the texture, the shape of each tooth. Righting is orientation in the hallway, and the bathroom door- Eddie tried again.

Knocking against the doorframe, but ultimately, he made it in the bathroom without running fully into a wall again. He fumbles around, shedding his shirt, Eddie pauses, blinking long and hard against the dark of the bathroom. Fingers finding the light switch, he kicks out with his foot to finish closing the door.

Eddie shoves at his shorts, and kicks them off- slamming his hip into the counter in the process. Hissing lightly, he twisted around in the small space to turn on the shower, soaking the bathroom for a split second, cursing sluggishly and loud- as he struggled to pull the curtain too.

Letting out a rough huff, already fucking soaked, Eddie jerked the curtain back. Stepping over the tub ledge, mildly proud of himself when he didn’t fucking trip on it, and closed the cutrain behind him.

The water was warm, Eddie hadn’t realized just how cold he was before now. It was a jar to his system, it wasn’t unusual for him to be cold. Vampire and all, but he did- you know have a heartbeat, and some blood that actually belonged to him. It just didn't replenish, it was a whole thing. Doesn’t matter.

The point is, it was like waking the fuck up. His stomach growled, finally realizing that it was empty. Eddie stood under the spray for a little longer, curling into the warmth, letting it settle into his bones. Thinks about what they have in the fridge, and chews on his lip as he gets the shampoo bottle off the shelf.

Going through the motions to clean himself, rushing towards the end at the demands of his stomach. Steve’s heart still thumps in the background, but Eddie isn’t hyper focused, he’s not zoned in on it. It’s white noise for him now.

Drying his hair roughly, not really bothering with anything other than straightening his bangs in the foggy mirror. Rubbing the water clinging to the glass, Eddie stares at his slightly out of focus reflection. Wayne had tried his best to get non-silver and rather aluminum backed mirrors.

But- Eddie got his hand wet under the sink, running his fingers through his bangs. Dropping the towel he used to dry his hair on the floor, shoving at it with his foot to kick it out of the general small walk space.

He shuffles out of the bathroom to his bedroom, shuts the door behind him and sets out to find the cleanest item of clothing in his room. Eddie knows he has clean underwear, and he digs those out of the dresser first.

Spinning around, staring at the rest of his room, Eddie notices a little dumbly that his hamper is full of clean clothes. Instantly he feels bad, he steps over, staring into the basket, he hadn’t even noticed that Wayne had done his laundry. He picks out a shirt from the pile, thumbing at the soft feeling before yanking it over his head, wet curls sticking to his neck.

A pair of jeans that are laid over the back of his chair. Eddie sits on his bed to pull them on, still dizzy, and honestly not really sure he could get them on standing up without falling over.

Eddie sits there for a moment, fidgeting with his pants button, just staring at the wall- mind clinging to the sound of Steve’s heart beat, it jumps a little- racing harsh and loud, and continues to do so. His gums itched, his skin too tight- something as wrong-

His stomach growls.

Right, right- Steve’s fine, he’ll be okay- Eddie, Eddie can check on him. Apologize. He just needs to eat first.

It’s a quiet affair, Eddie leaving his bedroom, walking into the kitchen, and getting a blood pop shoved at him. His eyes zero in, and he sticks the cold treat in his mouth instantly. Eddie lets out a groan, his teeth digging into the popsicle, Gareth basically herds him towards the couch and Eddie goes willingly. Laving his tongue over the bloodpop.

It takes him probably ten minutes to eat the entire thing, and he gnaws on the stick when he’s finished, sinking his teeth into the wood with little care for the fragility of them. Wayne growls, Eddie jerks his eyes over to him, pulling his teeth out of the stick.

Wayne holds out his hand, Eddie’s fingers are steady as he drops the bite riddled popsicle stick in his uncle's hand. Gareth elbows him again, “Eat.” Half baked meat cubes. Eddie tucks his knees up to his chest, resting the plate on top of them, gnawing on the cubes of meat almost absently. His best friend and his uncle are quiet. Eddie sinks his teeth into the cube, staring at the TV, it’s turned off. It wasn’t before- the screen is still static like. “I need to apologize.” “Yeah, you do.” Gareth’s voice is sharp, angry, fair enough. Eddie’s being stupid. “I don’t even like Harrington and I know you are being a dickwad.”

Eddie makes a face, darting his eyes to look over to Wayne. His Uncle was staring at him with an unreadable expression. Furrowing his brow, “Pops?” Wayne grumbles, his expression hardening. Swallowing hard, Wayne doesn’t look at him like that very often. A handful of times where Wayne’s really pressed rank, Eddie ducks his head slightly, not making eye contact. “Not for them, you understand me Edward? You apologize to that boy, because he deserves it, not ‘cause that group of yours wants to use him.” Eddie’s eyes go wide, “You apologize to that boy, and you fix this.” He nods, jerking his head up and down for a long moment sending his vision spinning. “Today.”

Eddie shoves another cube in his mouth, “Yes sir.” His voice is quiet, muffled around the piece of meat, but Wayne rumbles softly, Eddie tracks the movement of his Uncle reaching out to pull on one of his curls.

“‘M not mad at ya’ Eds,” Hesitant eye contact, the words are gruff, in all the ways that his Uncle always is, “disappointed, but not mad.” Eddie nods his head like a poor bobble head. “I’m fucking mad at you.” Gareth’s voice is sharp, “I’m so angry at you, how dare you-” “Gareth.” Eddie tucks his head down, “Later.” Wayne’s voice is sharper now, Gareth has no position here, and he knows the wix knows it too, snapping his mouth shut, jaw making an audible click. Teeth colliding aggressively, Eddie cringes, sympathy for the other’s teeth.

They sit in silence as Eddie finishes eating, slower on the last few pieces, anxiety pooling in his limbs as he goes. Mind focusing back on Steve’s heart beat as he goes about the motions of putting on socks, shoes, staring at Gareth’s retreating back as the younger leaves the trailer, slamming the door behind him. Eddie tosses his keys back and forth in his hands. “I fucked up.” quiet, hardly above a whisper. It’s not for anyone but himself, Wayne won’t respond- he knows, knows that Eddie’s talking to himself- it’s, it’s- this is all so fucked.

He says goodbye to Wayne, tells him he’ll call him, and heads out. The ride is eerie, silent, Eddie doesn’t bother with turning on the radio. He’s not worthy of a distraction, ‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Steve, I didn’t- I didn’t mean to hurt you, I didn’t mean to do any of this, and I’m so sorry you got hurt, I’m sorry we hurt you. That I hurt you.’ It felt- pathetic, wasteful, mouthful of words, empty, empty words. Why would Steve even listen to him? He’s done nothing but hurt the younger boy.

Eddie has been nothing but cruel to Steve.

Only Steve's BMW was parked in the driveway, Eddie parked on the street. I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry. For all of it- He smashed his hand against the steering wheel, fumbling to turn his van off. The keys rattle in the silence of the space. It feels oddly more like a death march walking up to the house, than the ride to kill Vecna did; walking up to the door, the world was so loud. Each of his steps loud against his ears. Competing with the steady thump of Steve’s heartbeat in his own chest.

Eddie stood in front of the door, staring at the wood, breathing harshly through his nose. And he knocked, cracking his knuckles against the colored wood, Steve’s pulse jumps, rocks against his ears and Eddie whines behind his teeth. I’m so sorry- I’m so sorry- There’s a little bit of shouting in the house, the hair on the back of his neck raises. Steve’s heart beat swells closer, and Eddie rocks back on his heels. Anxiety resting against his collar bones, pooling on his tongue. The door opens-

Steve looks terrible, Eddie’s heart aches, his teeth itch, and his bones claw at his skin. His hair is long, and falling in his face, there’s scars on his face that Eddie had never seen before, the line around his neck- the one from the demo-bats, it’s stark against his skin. Steve’s eyes widen, and Eddie’s hands shake at his sides.

“Hi?”

--- Bloop. Sorry that this took forever, took a tiny break, and then fist fought writers block for far longer than I should have. And if anyone knows me From "An Untuned Piano" I tend to get sick, get better, and then get sick again. So, currently- sick. 0/10, at least I didn't get an incredibly high fever and then decide I was going to write, rewrite the plot, and fuck myself over... again. (I may have also fucked up my hand somewhere in between-) I'm not the happiest with this, because I couldn't put together exactly what I had pictured in my head. But it's whatever. It's fine. The next part I know what I want to do, and what I want to get done. Some of it's already finished- so it shouldn't be too long. !! Thank you for your very sweet feedback!! And to the one person who keeps leaving me very nice comments and then asking me to post it on ao3, I will! I just have a very specific word count that my brain makes me reach before I can think about posting something. I'll post it pretty soon, though it will probably be in a two-shot.

Tags: @theghostinmymachine @sadcanadianwinter @failedstarsandgoldenclouds @a-huge-nerdy-nerd @bisexualdisastersworld @intergalactic-president-awesome @vampireinthesun @estrellami-1 @raysreads @knightofthieves @sassysleeplord @gezell-igg @ledleaf @haluton @h0n3y-dw @thegingerrapunzel @finalmoondragon @warrior-616 @lexyvey @thesuninyaface @whalesharksart @two-faced-biatch @plasticcrotches @xtkxkrzrizir @minjintea @potatofist18 @just-a-tiny-void @selune2 @hellomynameismoo @princessstevemunson @plantzzsandpencilzzs @wearelosersyoudumbfuck @dbquills @pheonixashtree

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randmsapphic · 5 months

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Hortus De Escapismo might honestly be one of the most depressing events that ak has written for me. Just because unlike most of the other events that focused on structural issue like near light we can at least see progress being made to make things even slightly better. But here it's just none of that even without oren arturia and the seaborne bishop everything was already going to shit and sarkaz were making themselves 2nd class citizens for awhile, and it a society that was still inherently divided between sankta and non sankta even if better then laterano.

The guy running that abbot had really good intentions but didn't really have any long term plans for his city besides exists so the divide never truly went away and only got worse as their situation did. Like this can even be seen just in how the sarkaz and sankta live, the sankta live in the abbot while the sarkaz essentially live in slums despite being "equal" neither are having a great time here but the sarkaz just have it way worse in every way.

In a lot of ways this event felt like an answer to the questions asked in guide ahead both for good and for bad which I actually think is a really interesting choice for them to do even if it's depressing to see happen.

#arknights #the writers really like not shying away from their not being an easy one and done solution to things

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midnightepiphany · 5 months

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I am actually get asked quite often how I can give such good relationship advice, even though I’ve never been in a relationship myself.

The real answer to that question is: Ao3, I've learned from all mistakes committed by Y/n and know how to navigate through most toxic relationships under any given circumstance.

But I can't give that answer without coming off as a manic person and taking away all my credibility.

So I just say “welp who knows…”

#fanfiction is not the answer its the solution #where would we be without wattpad #ao3 #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #ao3 stuff #archives of our own #fanfiction #fanfic #littrature #wattpad #smut #y/n #meme #funny #marvel #supernatural #star wars

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starryyyeyedfool · 3 months

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𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐘𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐒 𝐀𝐒 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒

A/N: i was listening to music earlier, and it gave me lots of different ideas based on some of the lyrics but because i'm too lazy to write any myself i decided to make a list so other people could use them for inspiration

if you use any of these prompts please tag/credit me ♡

"It just don't come natural to me to think that you'd want me for me" - Against the kitchen floor

"I find myself lost in what you think of me, too confused to choose who i should be" - I / Me / Myself

"You're trying to replace yourself" - Mr Capgras Encounters a Secondhand Vanity

"Home is where the heart is. You ain't homeless but your heartless" - Suburbia Overture

"If sick is defined by what's different, well pull the plug out and let me die" - 2econd 2ight 2eer

"Well who should I be then, if I'll never be the same?" - Dr Sunshine is Dead

"Cry my name, remind my brain of my identity" - Cotard's Solution

"Say my name like a slur, but I've been called worse" - I / Me / Myself

"I've lived more lives than enough, I haven't died quite as much" - Against the kitchen floor

"Say you're still her, the woman you were" - A little bit mine

"The only ones in need of love are those who dont receive enough" - Laplace's angel

"It's better to be lost than loved" - Well...better than the alternative

"Villains are everywhere, that's how i know that im a hero" - The main character

"I expect no dreams, or no sweet goodbye to me" - Tomcat Disposables

"Well it seems she broke me, but I swear she could not break my heart" - Thermodynamic lawyer

"And if dreams can come true, what does that say about nightmares?" - Cotard's Solution

"I hold on so tight for so long, it's just not right" - Tomcat Disposables

"If you were in my shoes, you'd walk the same damn miles I do" - Laplace's angel

"Is another man wearing your face?" - Mr Capgras Encounters a Secondhand Vanity

"Heaven knows God is sitting up there like 'hell no!'" - 6up 5oh Cop-Out (Pro / Con)

"What's so wrong about what's wrong with me?" - Well... better than the alternative

"If we can't see each other then there's no more use for hiding" - Dr Sunshine is Dead

"And some of the best liars only want the truth" - Skeleton appreciation day

Thanks for reading! Requests are always open!

"I just haven't learned how to be human as you are yet" - Against the kitchen floor

Divider from @cafekitsune

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6vaguebook · 6 months

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Tips for fighting writer's block

•Writing on your phone

•Writing on physical paper

•Changing your writing program

•Working in a new environment

•Reading books you like that are similar in some way

•Reading really terrible books that are similar in some way

•Changing to a new font (note: do not change the previously written stuff's font, just the parts you are going to write)

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing #Writing advice #Writing tips #writer's block #Writer's block solutions

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sclki-op · 3 months

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Ripples ran through his form and he was gone in a heartbeat– rivers of smoke spilling to the floor, seeping through seams, dripping to the deck bellow and past the rails, cascading to the pitch black waters that surrounded the ship.

Shouts sounded from above.

Translucent smoke drifted inches above the sea waves in a layer so thin it ripped– before sealing itself again. It stretched far, looking too much like a morning mist.

He struggled to maintain physical form, swirls of smoke blooming everywhere across his body. His face a distorted mass of thick white.

Questions woven out of worry gone ignored.

#i don't think that im capable of drawing this scene good enough so i decided to write it down instead #and I'm still trying to go easy on my eyes and wrist so I guess it's a solution while i can't draw much!#I'm no writer at all and my english isn't very good (it makes me feel much more confident than i am with my native language though..)#but god do i want to write sometimes #I admire people who can do this well and wish i could too #another zoro x smoker thing (though it can easily be anything else!)#it's post-sabaody but I'm changing the following canon events for the sake of angst in this story #smozo

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joelletwo · 1 month

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gintama time loop reading that i had while watching

(laid out for my own reference. this doesnt have to interest u guys.)

okay so like. watching gintama and getting to kintoki arc. what i knew was 1. i was getting into the anime art style changes i had varying feelings about which signaled 2. i was getting into the back half of gintama 3. what i knew about the back half of gintama is that utsuro exists, gintoki did something fucked up on that cliff that ppl cant stop talking about and drawing parallels to with every arc of gintama, and ppl (i sensed) think the writing of the ending is stupid

kintoki arc has yorozuya and tae promise:

before breaking Gintama The Series into a distorted au where the chars are WILDLY different but still play out their roles to their arc-concluding purposes. birthing in me the image of a gintama that can fill any shaped-hole you put it in and still have the same basic inherent form it moves towards (whatever happened on that cliff, which i sensed was being gestured at in kintoki arc w the beheadment seppuku but had no idea the fucking. extent of lol)

gintama making formal changes (ugly or lovely art style shifts, at some point a radical change in thrust of story with the introduction of utsuro as a final and plot-twisty villain) but (hoping that it's) remaining the same at heart... or being railroaded into being the same. somehow the yorozuya promise became about. being cognizant of being in the narrative timeloop** and being subjected to Circumstances. being cognizant that something was being taken from u (catharsis of ending--) and also inflicted on u (--replaced with episodic and genre-typical* endless storylines)

(*not a slam. just that gintama's storylines are all about like. accepting the horrors. which is a journey of experiencing the horrors in order to come to terms with them that is harrowing to be subjected to over and over and over again. [cest la vie]

**and timeloop was also being flavored by me understanding yoo joonghyuk orv's regressions as about the endless iterative failures of making progress on a journey of recovery from trauma. all timeloops are about that to me now.)

thought shelved until obi-one's arc where, although i understood him as an oboro figure, he was performing a shouyoutsuro role of being a dearly missed mentor figure who comes back for happy family times yayyyyy but oh no he came back Wrong (a disabled cyborg programmed to betray against his own will). and Evil (needs to be taken down, and the shimuras-through-gintoki have to be the ones to dismantle their own happiness that it turns out was always retroactively tinted by this grief).

the presentation of nostalgia as longing for a return to the past that cant actually be achieved. or rather, you can achieve it, but Time changes things, and the past you get back won't actually be the same.

this helps me shift what i know about utsuro (shouyou but Wrong) into being about. what actually isnt that textually present in the series? but has to be assumed, i think? bc like? of course? the desire to have shouyou back (tho now i ask: whose? gintoki's? again, not really... in the text?). you can have shouyou (idealized gintama timeperiod where everyone is happy and innocent) back! you can have all the shouyou (early days swagful gintama anime that i am constantly missing as i move into the future material) back that you want! and its gonna fucking suck (for the chars and for the audience)!

and that basically ends up being the framing thought i take with me into utsuro's introduction................... it gets lost the more i actually see him and late-game gintama for myself and gain the context i never had for everyones blogging i was seeing. but. still. the theme i understood to be what gintama was telling me. you cant get back what you lost. and if (when) you try, you only come face to face with what was damaged in the losing.

however...................................

the further i got into silver soul and through to the ending the more it was............ interesting but confusing that, as i put it, the chars were "fighting the representation of the dangers of Nostalgia with More Nostalgia"?

and still i dont know what to do with the ultimate last-pages ending of gintama being a return to the status quo (with cosmetic changes). yay we defeated the evil specter of our past that haunted us and kept us in the desire timeloop. now we can get back to the episodic timeloop that we spent the fight with the specter... desiring to get back. hm. well!

#sopping wet gintoki posting #ULTIMATELY. any time i conclude a gintama reading conflict with 'sorachi is an imperfect writer' im not mad at him for it lol.#like. i say before in series that take big ideological swings. im not mad at u if u wanna like. tackle the problem of capitalism.#but arent singlehandedly able to come up w the solution to capitalism. i just had fun with u trying.#if sorachi cant singlehandedly solve. the problem of human grief. well it sure is fun to watch him iterate on it for 300 episodes and #700 chapters. thats not necessarily a Failure! but it is. interesting.#gintama time loop theory

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autumnalwalker · 9 days

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Last Line Tag

Thank you for the tag @ahordeofwasps.

Passing the (optional) tag to @ceph-the-ghost-writer, @winterandwords, @oh-no-another-idea, @sarahlizziewrites, @sleepyowlwrites, and the usual open tag for anyone else who wants to join in the game.

In which Lacuna is experiencing the wonder of a new body that doesn't feel like it's dying after five minutes of light exercise but is still easily distracted by her own wandering train of thought:

Lacuna’s run comes to a sudden stop as the realization hits her that she could have been getting the various outfits she’d wished she could wear over the past few years enchanted to fit, and probably even fit flatteringly. Or even mundanely tailored. It’s not like she didn’t have the money.

She has just enough time to mutter “Wow, I’m dumb,” to herself before the treadmill running at max speed flings her off and sends her tumbling across the floor of the gym.

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #my writing #tag game #writing tag games #find the word tag #last line tag #empty names #It's both amazing and frustrating how you start seeing solutions to chronic problems once you get yourself into a better mental health stat #Lacuna you weren’t dumb for not realizing that sooner; you were depressed.#Stopping running while on an active treadmill is a bit more questionable.

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aroanthy · 2 months

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hi!! i know u talk a lot about aromanticism a lot on here, but i don’t think i’ve ever seen u talk about aromantic anthy. would u mind discussing/elaborating on it or linking to a post where u do because i’m very curious!!

i got a similar ask half a year ago or something ridiculous like that on my main blog, but i’d like to really do justice to my url right now and explain it in more concrete terms.

i will say, it’s important to bear in mind that this reading of anthy’s character is very much informed by my own experiences, and a lot of those experiences are ones im not keen to talk in depth about. but you know. let’s make some nebulous gestures towards ideas of being traumatised, being autistic, struggling to meaningfully connect with others and honestly not really wanting to do such because of how they treat you.

like ive previously said, an aromantic perspective on the world would, i think, really benefit anthy. when youve lived your whole life experiencing violence at the hands of these patriarchal structures, of which romance is absolutely one, it’s kinda like. damn. im uncomfortable buying into those ideas.

anthy also has this lovely line in ep 19 where she says to utena ‘romance either happens or it doesn’t’ and it’s just sooooooo. so very interesting to me, actually, that anthy would say something so black and white about ‘romance’, a topic that anthy knows better than a lot of rgu characters is hopelessly confused and arbitrary and often enabling violence. and utena (fellow aromantic gaybo) says 'yeah, i know, but...'. these simplifications, these elisions. what is and isn't articulated. but what? maybe things are much more complicated than we'd like to think.

anyway enough of that tangent. one thing i as a trans and aromantic person always return to when discussing trans and aromantic readings of characters/texts more broadly is that there's no singular piece of evidence that can really cement these readings as Undeniable. it's like. okay. there's a critique of romance as a patriarchal structure in revolutionary girl utena. there's an ambiguity about anthy's feelings towards characters like utena, where there is clearly a queer connection but it takes shape in unconventional and complex ways. me, i'm aromantic, i see all of these pieces and i go oh well that's because she's an aromantic lesbian. you know, there's plenty of little moments i can evidence but those moments can be used to argue for an alloromantic lesbian anthy too. romance is a very arbitrary thing and i think everyone should take their own approach to it unapologetically. of course, mine is that it's hellish and i want nothing to do with it, but im just one guy. and im okay with that. i feel strongly about this reading and it is personal, and id be dishonest to say otherwise, but i do also find that it's well-evidenced in the text. as one of my lecturers once said, don't worry about authorial intent, it isn't real <3

#and authorial intent is NOT real i really cant emphasise that one enough #like it's fun to engage with the stuff a writer/director/whoever thinks about their art #and it can be very useful #but it's not definitive. that's not the last word on the topic #like did be papas consciously write any rgu character as aromantic? idk probably not #but i find such powerful aromantic narratives and themes coming through in this show #in how it chooses to examine relationships and power dynamics and the pervasive nature of romance as a concept #how it is so easily unequal how it is DESIGNED to be unequal how it offers chivalry and safety to mitigate harm #which it directly enables. makes easier #and that doesnt mean that aromanticism is the only solution bc you know. some ppl do feel romantic attraction #but it's like ok let's rethink 'romance'. let's combat amatonormativity let's challenge the relationship hierarchy that privileges #families and romantic partners in such a dangerous dangerous way #and i see all of that in this show and it resonates so deeply with my experiences many of which pertain to aromanticism #and you know. this show made me accept that im aromantic. so i think that speaks to how strongly these themes come through #but i digress. i find it hard to talk about this stuff bc its deeply personal and quite arbitrary #and also every time i do someone sends me anon hate about how i hate gay people. which is so cool btw please keep doing that #i didnt realise that loving being gay and loving gay people and loving when gay people love each other made me homophobic /s #just to clarify for the second time that is all sarcasm im gay and aromantic and i dont have time for arophobia here #anywayyyyy #im aware of all the asks ppl have sent me. im working on it i prommy <3 #dais.txt #dais talks aspec

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