#feral corpses rambles

[feralcorpses]

I was bored and wanted to try draw with coloured pencils again and OW omg how did I used to do that my wrist and hand HURTS like how did I draw nearly everyday like 2 years ago doing that, I’m in pain bro 😭

[pursuitseternal]

“Little Prey,” Chapter 5 for “Love Me, Hate Me”

Act 1 Astarion x Gur!Tav (Katja) | E | 3.7K

Summary: Overwhelmed by her fear from her past, Katja freezes in the critical moment. Astarion takes it on himself to cure her of her fear, by letting her see the real Vampiric monster that lies beneath…

CW: Creaturestarion, past trauma/ptsd (tav), feral sex, monster fucking, claw and fangs excite me, hair pulling, biting, rough sex, mild degradation, “exposure therapy,” Astarion is catching feelings and denying them

🎨by @octarinecat

Previous ch | ao3 link | Masterlist

Chapter 5: Little Prey

Gnolls. Why’d it have to be gnolls…

Katja, axe in hand at the ready, rounded the boulder on the Risen Road and suddenly forgot what it meant to walk.

Or breathe.

“The hells is wrong with you, Gur?” that silken voice snapped at her, corpse cold hand locking around her wrist to pull her up the gravel path. And the Cleric only giggled harder. Anything was funny when it was at Katja’s expense, but that’s a Sharran for you.

He looked her up and down, the briefest flash of recognition on his face as he watched her chest heaving and her eyes glaze over.

Not that Katja noticed. Not over the grip of fear that clutched her heart in her chest. Her feet dragged in the dirt. “Can’t go… can’t go… don’t…” she hissed with venom, trying to take a swing at the Vampire.

“Easy…” his voice purred with shallow comfort. More of a command. Out of necessity. Wasn’t it? He shoved that flicker of concern down.

“Something the matter, Katja?” Shadowheart teased at first, harsh in tone, until she saw her eyes fluttering and chest heaving too quickly.

“Shhhh keep her quiet, Astarion. Silence her, or those gnolls will eat us all.” Lae’zel snapped her sharp, alien teeth at them.

A rambling mess, Katja shook even as Astarion picked her up like a sack of potatoes and slung her over his shoulder.

Fuck, he was hard beneath her ribs, knocking what little breath she drew as her panic took even deeper root. He was fast, scurrying up the path to the broken road and effortlessly leaping over the schism in stone.

He cursed at her, huffing with each breath. “Fucking hells, Katja, get it together.”

But she couldn’t. It wasn’t until she was seated by the fire at camp, shivering from fear despite the summer heat, that she finally blinked and came back to awareness. Her scar stung on her face as she suddenly realized not only was she back at camp… but it was night… and she was alone.

“Hells,” she whispered, turning her head slowly only to see one shadowed figure melt from the darkness and approach.

Astarion’s eyes practically glowed as he looked down at him, arms crossed and jaw set in raging disappointment. “You. You need to get it together, little Gur. You could have gotten us all killed. Eaten, what’s worse… ugh,” he rolled his eyes, “what horrid irony that would be for a vampire, a slave to hunger to be eaten to death.”

Katja scowled. “Believe it or not, I didn’t mean to put your precious unlife in harm's way…. This time,” she spat, raising herself to her feet to grab a bottle of water. “Please tell me they’re dead, the gnolls I mean…”

Astarion first sniffed in absolute annoyance. “Yes, yes they are because I convinced them using our little wriggling friend to kill each other and then for the really big scary one to kill herself.” He gives her a mocking look, brimming with pride as he gloats. “You should be thanking me for saving your hide twice over, little Gur…”

“Thank you,” she instantly interjected almost as he arrogantly prompted her. She looked down to her feet, “for dealing with those… those…”

“Gnolls?” He huffed. “I said I would, didn’t I? But I didn’t say I would be happy about the inconvenience of it all…” He gave an irritating, provoking smirk as he leaned down over her. “Seems like I’m your hero after all, little Gur.”

“Don’t push it, vampire.”

Astarion just widened his smirk as he somehow drew another half a step nearer without moving it it seemed. “There’s the little hunter I know,” he rasped. He hovered over her perhaps a few moments more than necessary, then he drew a step back, waving to her tent. “You sleep, I’ll keep watch. We have a new member of our party… that tiefling that your partner in monster hunting has been scouring all of Avernus for… the Advocatus Diaboli… and she’s got a great smile and laugh and now they’re friends…”

Another absolutely shit eating grin and Astarion folded his arms over his chest. “Seems we’ve started quite the trend, you and I.”

Katja’s expression soured. “You and I are not friends.”

“You’re right… we’re lovers… partners in the sensual experiences two passionate beings can…”

“NINE HELLS PLEASE STOP!” Katja stamped her boot and marched off to her tent.

“I’ll come and check on you, lover!” he called into the dark of the night.

Katja fumed. But even still she was smiling. At least now that her back was to him. She pushed her way inside the canvas flap and flopped down in her bedroll to rest.

He had gotten her out of there… dealt with the monsters he knew terrified her… he even destroyed them all… all while she remained locked in the moments of fear from her past. That scar over her eye and down her cheek stung.

She laid down, pulling the cover over her body, ignoring the way it still ached from her shaking and panic earlier. Her mind took over, even as she closed her eyes and covered her head in her pillow to stop seeing… remembering what it was to stare a gnoll down… her little arm shaking as somehow she managed to slice its belly open… one eye torn into, and the other one hazy with fear.

It wasn’t until she felt a body sit beside her, lifting the pillow off her face as a finger felt under her nose.

“Are you checking my breathing, vampire?” She hissed, half husky, half laughing in her sleep. “I didn’t know you remembered such a thing… being undead as you are.”

His hand pulls back at the sound of her voice. “I’d rather not have you completely gone from this weird bunch of adventurers. Today was enough of a hassle with you… out of commission as you were.” She turns to meet his inscrutable gaze. “I want you to prevent such episodes in the future.”

Katja’s eyes widen, a mix of shock and anger and humiliation roiling in her gut. “O-okay,” she whispered, trying to scoot away from him on her bedroll.

But his hand just fell heavily on her knee to keep her in place. “Katja,” he purred her name in that way that instantly made her feel his teeth in her wrist.

And she looked up at him, wide eyes and suppressing the shudder that claimed her spine.

“This is no laughing matter…”

“I wasn’t laughing,” she snipped, folding her arms over her chest.

Astarion pursed his lips, unamused but almost… used to these replies. “Ah, yes. I mean that this is serious, brave little hunter. I’ve watched you vivisect goblins and pluck the feathers from Harpies, but the mere sound of those gnolls today sent you into the freeze of abject terror.” He tutted his tongue at her, bringing her into his lap.

He holds her, hands digging into her thighs just a little. “I think… you ought to be broken of this debilitating fear. And I think… I’m just the one to do it.” His voice was thick in his throat, rougher than usual. “It’s thanks to you and your constant, delicious supply of blood that I can even offer you such a remedy.”

Katja shivered at that tone, but she put all her effort into looking unafraid. “How?” She snapped.

He just gave her that taunting, rakish grin. “Don't you trust me?”

Silence.

“Darling, I’m hurt… I’ve tasted you… mouth and blood and cunt… and still you don’t trust me to help you?” His eyes were veiled, half-lidded and sultry and all seduction. But there was the slightest glint of sincerity there… a shine of… concern?

Katja let herself lean in just a bit, head on his shoulder to hide the way she took a sniff of his shirt.

“If… I trusted you, how could you help me get over this… problem.. I have with the gnolls?” she asked, irritable from the day’s emotions.

“Tsk. Do you, little hunter, forget I am also a fearsome monster?” Something long started digging into her thighs, and Katja looked down to see his nails extend, long and cutaneous. Claws. And something pressed against her neck the moment she looked away from that conceited face.

Lips…

…fangs…

Long ones.

She turned her head the second she felt their prick on her vein. Sharper and fiercely cold. Then, she looked into his face, into his eyes… dilated so dark, only the thinnest ring of crimson remained. One single shaky breath, and she shifted, her body screaming at her to run.

“Oh come now… it’s your doing I may look like this, you know. You and all the potent, living blood. Tsk. You’re so young, little treat, so full of life… It can help but bring out the monster in me. And if you can allow to let the monster you know ravage you as I know you want me to… then you’ll have no issues with any pathetic inferior beasts. Gnolls, kobolds, brumettes… will pale in comparison to your vampire….”

His mouth opened, letting her glimpse those fangs, at how they caught the lantern light, glistening and long as his tongue licked the span between them.

“You look like you wish to run… I’d advise against that, little prey…”

Hells. Even his voice had… shifted? To something more silken and seductive. A purr in his chest all feline and totally predacious. It made her, yes, wish to run. And yet, something about it kept her so firmly rooted in his lap, where every part of her body could touch his. “I’m not… g-going anywhere,” she managed to snivel in reply.

“Good,” that pink, cool, death-breathed tongue licked his lips as he tilted her to face him, fingers pressing up under her chin. “Tell me, first, before I fuck the every living fear out of you, what is it you fear those gnolls will do to you?”

Katja froze, just the name of those dread creatures making a hazy veil fall back on her dark eyes.

“Ah ah, speak up, pet,” he snapped, a thumb pulling at her bottom lip. “What could one of those mangey beasts do to you that I could not, right here and now? Because I promise you, I could be far…” he slid his thumb into her lips, “...far…” he pressed it down on her tongue, “...worse.”

Shoving his thumb to the back of tongue, he made her gag and yet, her eyes squinted, a smile at the small corners of her mouth, a glint in the dark depths of her eyes.

Nervous, she shifted off his lap, his stiff frame allowing her the moment of reprieve, hoping it would bring forth the words he could almost see stuck in her throat.

“I.. I fear they will eat me,” came a timidly whispered response. “I fear they will run their claws on my body and gouge me.”

His touch was gentle on her waist, corpse-cool hands sliding her shirt up until they pawed at her skin. “Don’t be ridiculous, they aren’t going to hurt you,” his tone sneered in her ear as he spoke, lips sucking the flesh of her lobe to tease at fang-point. “As if I would let them come within an inch of touching my favorite prey…”

Those claws ran like knives up her belly under her loose tunic, feeling her heart palpitate and her stomach clench and flutte. A flick of the wrist, and they pierced the thin fabric, slicing it open in ribbons. Katja gasped, shaking a moment at the sound, but his other hand only ran in her hair, rubbing her head soothingly

“Shhh, it’s okay. Claws are no different than what I enjoy doing to your sweet canvas of skin… never anything that would harm you, my darling prey,” he purred, cool wet tongue coming out to lick the shell of her ear. “Now let’s just remove this trash, get to the main course, as it were…”

Her skin prickled to feel that cool tongue lick up the side of her neck, swirling over the growing fang marks in the side of her neck. “I-I am not your prey,” she managed to rasp even as she bent back to let him tear off the rest of her ruined top.

“From where I am sitting,” he bucked his hips up against her thigh, “you very much look and smell like it…” His hand reached to press his palm in the gusset of her pants, feeling the heat, scenting her arousal. “And don’t you just smell… delicious.”

She watched in arousal and horror as he licked his lips, his fingers around her jaw to turn her. No escape. Nowhere to run. Nowhere else to even look away. Those wide black eyes bored into hers…. Until she was sure she could see her reflection in their dark pools.

“You wouldn’t mind if I had a sample of my favorite treat… would you? Just a little reward for sending those horrid gnollies to their deaths just for you?” That voice was sinful, somehow even more alluring and hypnotizing. Katja couldn't recall if it was a power of a vampire, or… she shuddered to think. Was this just how far under his thrall she herself had fallen.

Her body parted for him now, thighs falling to fit his hand on her sex, hips lifting to offer a silent invitation for more. To beg for more. Eyes closing slightly, that drag of claws on her body no longer sent the pangs of fear to her heart. Oh no. Now it rapped on her ribs with a different pulse. One that matched the throb in her cunt.

Those claws scored into her scalp as he gripped the base of her braid. “Speak up, pup. Or you’ll leave here no less afraid and burning for me.”

“Yes,” she instantly consented, voice laced with need in that single syllable. “I want you to…” she swallowed nervously, “feed on me.”

“More specific.” His command sent a pang of lust to her core as he pushed her on all four before him and grabbed her braid. “Tsk. You can do better. More graphic.”

Katja’s arms shook, her cunt drenched and quivering for more tongue or cock or fingers, whatever. “I want your mouth on me to bite and tear.”

Her confession sent a dark rumble from his chest as he leaned over her, hips pressing on her ass. Cool lips kissed the marks of her neck, and one set of claws scored the space between her thighs where the leather was taut and soaked. “What about these claws… what do you wish me to do to them in this monstrous form?” He purred.

Another stilted breath, another tremor down her limbs, and she rocked back against his hips. “I-I want you to tear these pants off, like my shirt. I want you to ruin them…”

“Very… good… my prey,” he huffed in her ear. “Trusting your monster to make you feel oh so… good.”

A tearing sound filled her tent as he stabbed a single claw into the seam of her pants and cut right up the middle. The puff of night air on her wet fold made her gasp, a sound that only increased as she felt his breath whisper from behind. One hand yanked her braid, lifting her head; and the other parted her swollen cunt, her arousal dripping down his fingers and onto her bedroll.

“Bite… tear… ruin…” he whispered, his lips brushing against her weeping sex. “Such violent requests for someone so afraid of a few little gnolls…. See?” He stuck his tongue out with a growl, pushing it with force to part her lips and lap up her seam. “I’m going…” he purred into the mess between her thighs, devouring it more aggressively and greedily for a moment before he broke away, “to fix you…”

His tongue bathed her clit in cool saliva, circling it as her cum only gathered more and more to drip. It wasn’t enough. Not as he sloshed his tongue to her entrance to thrust inside her, tasting the need and fear that had laced her blood.

“Afraid?” he growled as his tongue slid back to her clit.

“Never,” she bluffed, voice breaking as her mouth hung open.

He laughed, raking his claws up her thighs to dig into the sweet small curve of her rear. Feeling the sharp slice of pain dragging over her skin, Katja cried out, a strangled sound almost like his name…

And Astarion smiled against her sex.

Just as he felt the first clench, the first spasm of her walls on his tongue he pulled up, licking his maw and pulling her head back again by its braid. His voice was a rumble, barely audible as he hissed in her ear. “Call me your monster, little Gur. Look me in my eyes and show me you’re not afraid.”

A rustle of clothing, and the cool, rock hard tip of his cock pressed up the gap in her ass. Rolling his hips, he pulled her by the braid to meet his gaze, cock thrusting and grinding in the crack of her ass. “I said… call me your monster,” he snarled. “Tell me you are not… afraid.”

“Fuck, I do not fear you, monster!” she cried, snaking her own hand into her folds to thrust over her aching clit.

A roar in her ear, yanking her braid back, he thrust into her, then pushed her back on all fours. “Good… fucking… girl,” he panted as he started slamming deep inside her, cockhead meeting the end of her channel.

Hands gripped her hips, claws scoring her soft underbelly. “Are you afraid now? My cock deep inside you… my nails dragging where I could slice you open?” His voice was rough, husky with his efforts.

But Katja only laughed. “I only fear you’ll finish before I do, this heady feeling of power you seem to have over me…”

Astarion growled, hissing a moment before biting the crook of her shoulder, sinking those long fangs into the front and back of its jointure. The flash of pain made her clench tight around him, squeezing constantly, unyielding.

“Hells…” he groaned, pushing past the pressure of her muscles, making his balls draw up and his cock pulse. He hurtled towards his release, the way she had gone from afraid to aroused so seamlessly, it did something to him. Made something in his gut warm with… no. It was pride. Proud he did this to her. Had this effect. And now she wouldn’t risk all their hides just because of a childhood fear.

She whined for him, little pitiful moans in time with his thrusts, made louder when he yanked her hair by the braid to steady her and control his pace. Even still, the little brat tried to ride him, almost making him slip out from that tight warm cunt a couple times…. He just laughed at her eagerness.

“My my, how fearful are you now? I’m only sensing the throb of your pulse in your sex, and it feels…” he inhaled deeply and loudly. “…mmmm, delicious.”

The noise she made as he spoke, so lewd and loud and hopefully heard by the rest of camp… it sent I’m over the edge, his hips slamming her ass as he leaned down to bite the gaping marks in the shoulder again. “Come for me, my prey. A little death is just what you crave…” His fangs sliced in once more.

The moment her blood touched his tongue, he could taste or orgasm, the heady mix of her blood that only flowed sweet like that in the throes of ecstasy he gave her. Her voice cracked until all she could do was give a silent scream. Walls milked around him, squeezing him somehow harder, the scent of her arousal filling the air—all pleasure and no fear.

“Mmmm, delicious, my favorite prey…” his voice rumbled with his orgasm, husky in his throat as he grew sloppy and stilted. One final shove inside her walls, one final yank of her braid, and he came with a roar, snarling into the bleeding flesh of her neck.

“Fuck, Katja. You had better not be afraid again… or I’ll have to bring the monster more than,” he paused to groan as he gave one last thrust inside the mess of their cum as it leaked from her, “just a few claws and fangs…”

She clenched around him one more time before she pulled away to lay on her back on the bedroll.

Hells… he thought, taking in the sight of her covered in blood on her shoulder, rosy cheeked from her exertions, hair knotted and tugged loose from her braid…

Not to mention the sweet pearly spend that seeped from her folds, nestled in that tear of her pants.

Astarion could swear his heart raced in his throat. And it only made him frown. He spoke quietly, forcing his tone to be exact and demanding, even if that rhythm of his pulse deafened his pointy ears.

“Next time, no mistakes. No fear. You see a gnoll and you will only think of how much pleasure fangs and claws can bring you. Thanks to me. Understood, my little prey?”

Katja let out a soft breath. A snore. Her head turned to the side, her eyes shut tight once more, exhausted from the turmoil and pleasure of the day.

What harm would it do… he brushed the loose curls of her sweaty blond hair off her face. A trick of the candlelight, he thought, the way her lips seemed soft and smiling…

Astarion scoffed. As if he hadn’t just almost fucked her within an inch of her life.

One last glance, and he pulled the blanket of her bedroll over her before he stood and noiselessly melted into the night.

[whackk-kermitt]

Dealing w/ Your Gremlin Behavior

Genre: Platonic Headconnons

Warnings: None

Request: What if Y/n was another God, who was basically a little chaotic gremlin; they see you as their child/sibling.

≫ ────── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ────── ≪

Kratos

You give him a headache.

He will not hesitate to tell you to shut up.

You ramble about stupid things so often that sometimes he believes his ears will bleed.

Kratos has to hold you back by the collar when he sees that dangerous glint in your eyes.

The one that lets him know you want to try and make friends with the creature that wants to make you it's dinner.

That one that tells him that you're going to do something stupidly dangerous while claiming that you're helping.

You're not helping. You're just giving him one more thing to worry about.

When I say he's worried, I mean worried.

Atreus has done some dumb things, but you were wild and almost feral sometimes.

He's extra hard on you and even more strict with how he trains you.

Congrats, he'll drag you out for hunting and training more often than Atreus.

He's absolutely terrified that if he takes his eyes off you for even a moment, you'll piss off a troll or a soul eater.

Can't take you anywhere.

But he'd kill for you.

So I guess you can stay.

Just please stop trying to bite everything that's trying to kill you.

Atreus

Atreus thinks you're hilarious.

Bonus points when Kratos is yelling at you, not him.

But most of the time you've roped him into your shenanigans and he's taking heat too.

Half the time he watches and cheers you on, the other half he's right there with you.

Mostly because things have gone horribly wrong and he's trying to help fix it before Kratos comes along and catches you two.

Mimir

He can't do much more then tell you off if you to something stupid.

So, that being said, gremlin has free rain.

Until he tells Kratos to be his hands and smack you around some.

Then you better start acting straight, cause Kray don't play.

You are never allowed to carry him.

Never again.

Not after last time!

Sometimes though, its just good fun to watch you be wild.

Makes him miss being young.

And, you know. . . his body.

Freya

She has no patience for it.

Behave yourself, at least around her.

When you go gallivanting and come back with scraps or bruises, she'll scold you endlessly while tending to them.

"I'm speechless." While proceeding to talk for hours about how reckless and stupid that was.

She was horrified when she watched you insult a draugr's 'dead mama' while slashing it in half and doing a victory dance over its corpse.

What has she gotten herself into?

Yet despite your feral behavior, she enjoys being motherly again.

She has no problem cleaning you up and making food for you.

She just wishes you'd be more careful.

She's so afraid of overstepping and becoming too protective of you.

But she's not afraid to curse you for a day, a simple binding spell, to keep you in the house when you've gone too far.

You're grounded!

Sindri

You leave the house all clean and spiffy.

Always returning covered in dirt and mud, leaves on your clothes and in your hair.

He'll always frown and point to the bath he prepares for you when you leave.

You make his eye twitch every time.

You'd just grin and get to it.

Arguments over cleanliness while you're staying with him.

He knows you can't help the trouble you always find yourself in, but he knows you won't avoid it.

He knows you thrive on chaos.

He hates that about you, but he cares too much to let you go off with nowhere to go if something bad happens.

So his door is always open for you.

Even if it means you're dripping blood and dirt on his clean floors.

He just makes you clean it.

Brok

He's a gremlin.

So he loves that you are as well.

You two get into so much shit together it's hard to think you're both still alive.

Sindri is over it.

Heimdall

Absolutely not a fan of it.

Don't even start with him.

And for the love of god, stop trying to sneak up and bite him.

It was amusing for a while, but it's getting old.

He always has to hold you back when he see's you're about to do something stupid.

He will absolutely pretend to not have a clue who you are if you get caught doing something you're not supposed to be doing.

Lots of scolding and 'don't do anything I wouldn't do's.

If you were literally anyone else he would've fed you to Gulltoppr by now.

Baldur

He loves the chaos.

You keep him on his toes and his head on a swivel.

You are a challenge to put up with but damn you're fun!

Nobody makes him laugh quit like you when you're poking the bare.

Literally.

Please stop. What the actually fuck are you doing?

He actually 'died' jumping in when that dead bear wasn't really dead and decided it didn't like you poking it.

But hey, he's got a new rug and a fun story so yippee!

≫ ────── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ────── ≪

NOT PROOF-READ Might come back to this one and fix it up some more. It feels kinda empty right now; I'm off my game.

•Kermitts Masterlist•

[fritzwulf]

Taking my two most recent fixations and slapping them together 💥

(Rambling down below, you have been warned)

Honestly there was a lot of ways I could have taken his design, with him being a rotting corpse in a bunny suit and all...being sent to hell like that would definitely make some REALLY monstrous results. HOWEVER, since this is specifically Helluva/Hazbin universe, I tried to keep to that kind of a vibe. So he ended up pretty tumblr-sexyman, just be glad I didn't give him a top hat!!! He probably arrived in a terrible state, and had to sew himself back together again. Hence the stitching.

He owns a carnival, or some other kind of entertainment venue in the pride ring... since I can see him using his business skills to his advantage in such a hostile environment. Of course, its just a front to fund his revenge-fueled projects. Likely rivalled Sir Pentious in terms of insane, aggressive inventions. Luckily for him, he can't be haunted by vengeful kid spirits down here. Lots of time to think without being put through UCN purgatory.

He definitely creaks like old metal when he walks, his body needs frequent fixing and tweaking. He probably has a more "demonic" form that's even more feral and robotic looking. Voice sounds like its coming out of a toy's voice box, so a bit tinny and distorted, cuts out sometimes too. fun fun!

[moonlit-dreamers]

hello hi ohno here I read ur tags and patiently waiting in your inbox I'd love to see any au stuff you make about mad scientist au pleasepleaseplease tag me if you post anything about it hehehhohoho

made a bit of an au of my own! went a bit feral and got a bit silly and now this exists

this au was originally meant to be something else but went "fuck it we ball" and changed it a bit. moon is the biologist here! botanist? probably botanist. he does research on plants and sees how they interact with the human body. he mainly focuses on medicines and wut materials work best for wut. tho hes also just a plant nerd and is fascinated with everything plant

sun is a librarian. while he certainly doesnt know as much as moon he still knows quite a bit just from listening to his rambles and helping him find books for research. theyre roommates in one shitty apartment together but they make it work

then theres eclipse. eclipse is the parasite that has latched onto a curious sun, dug out his eye, and is now slowly digging into his brain and slowly taking control. moon found them while on a walk. eclipse was just happily latched onto the rotting corpse of an animal and moon took them back to his lab. i mean, wouldnt u take a strange parasitic plant back home with u bc u were unable to identify it?

anyway. moon ran a lot of experiments on eclipse, and they didnt like that. how does a plant feel emotion? dont ask me this is fiction. i recommend u suspend ur disbelief for this entire au

i will definitely explain more in another post... or just write a fic bc damnit i really want to

meme before we go

(also tag ur other account here @ohno-the-sun)

[chaoticbuggybitchboy]

Hi!

I kill anti vaxxers on sight

I do not answer donation asks and do not reblog most donation posts. For my mental health. Seriously.

Nicholases: Anthony Mikey

Nicks: ant; glow

Gender: wobbly (transmasc enby)

Pronouns: ey/vey/zey/they/he any just get silly

Orient.: aro/ace

Status: queerplatonic whore

Age: minor ig

Pronouns Page

Blinkies

Languages: English (native), Spanish (decent), Romanian (bad)

Brain Stuff: OCD, psychosis, bipolar disorder, and suchlike

Physical Stuff: hyper-mobile Ehlers Danlos Spectrum Disorder; postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome; migraines

DMs?: I’m awkward and may not answer at all. If I don’t say anything after like, two days just assume I either forgot or was just uncomfortable but didn’t want to say anything. Feel free to try again if u want with something else I might reply then. I’m an unpredictable feral rat about DMs sometimes. Idk. Don’t assume I hate you.

Tone tags?: yes

Asks: anything nonsexual and not asking me for money I will not respond to those

Flirting/compliments?: non romantic and nonsexual

Swearing: I swear so much I don’t always register the use of the word fuck and my phone has autocorrected ‘duck’ to ‘fuck’ before.

Previously pinned post: horses

My overly active ao3: ant_is_in_an_anthill

My neglected art blog: @ants-awesome-art-blog (also present here tagged as ‘ant art go brr’)

My danger days fic specifically: endangered gays fic (yes! That’s me!! I’m that guy!! Yippee!!)

Side blogs:

@cherri-cola-soda & @broken-acid-in-the-morning-light & @moth-moon-the-whore & @dead-spider-in-the-sun & @crazy-yellow-bitch (kjrp)

Things I talk about pretty consistently:

- danger days

- Myself

- My danger days fic

Blog tags and more abt me under the cut

Things I talk about sporadically:

- Dracula

- The Historian

- The end Cretaceous Extinction Event

- Star Wars

- TMA & TMAGP

- Languages

- Bears in trees

- Other assorted music artists

- My intense craving for a Mikey Way 2012 fender bass guitar

Tags (I’m still sorting my blog so it’s sporadic and more will be added)

Chaoticbuggybitchboy - literally anything I said words on

Some blogs I interact with semi regularly have their urls tagged

Malevolent ant - me thinking about malevolent whenever I remember to listen to it (sunny I’m so sorry)

Complaining - me. Complaining. About anything and everything

I have a couple levels of vent tags there’s mild vent and cw vent

Infodumping in the tags again - what it sounds like

Ant activated - things relating to world events and general activism stuff

Making up words - for when I’m making up words again

Me when he /p - me posting about a boy I like. I’m sorry. Not stopping.

Ayudame - when I need help but in Spanish

Wtnv rambles - welcome to Nightvale, where I ramble.

Ant the space cadet - Star Wars talk

Showing and telling :] - yeah

My posts that hit it off - ones that took off in some way

My hit bit posts - the two(!!!!) posts bears in trees official reblogged

Marigold corpse fic - a different thing I wrote, also up on ao3 :]

Ant makes polls - get this I make polls

Danger days tags:

Danger days the true lives of the fabulous killjoys - umbrella tag for all danger days content (yes I chose the longest possible tag)

Endangered gays fic - my massive fic series and anything at all related to it (including when I ramble in the tags so remember to check there if ur interested)

Loosers au - “like a cigarette”

Danger days - general danger days; not associated with my fic

Danger days art - art

Ddttlotfk - album stuff talking about the songs rather than the lore

Cosmere tags for my own sanity:

Ant in the cosmere

Ant on scadrial

Ant in the final empire

Ant in the roughs

Ant on roshar

[child0feden]

BORN FROM A WISH

terje “ tchort ” schei x reader

- general dating headcanons for terje!

terje is so cute and i do not see him getting the love he deserves at all! reader is referenced to be busty or chubby but it is not a major thing at all <3

- requested by anon | view my metal masterlists here and here

reading music recommendations: you’re not here by akira yamaoka - wrath of the tyrant by emperor

- i do not really know why i think this but i feel like terje would have such a major attraction to chubby and or busty people! he just looks like the type of man who would really want a chubby and or busty partner

✩ like, just give this man a partner with a pair of soft, thick thighs and a little bit of a stomach as soon as possible, he absolutely eats it up like a starved man, just as he loves to eat something that lays between your thighs…

- terje will never ever truly get over just how heavenly your thick thighs feel wrapped around his head as he lets you ride his face with his once fresh and untouched corpse paint smudging all over and transferring over to your own skin

✩ but anyways! let me just move on from that

- he goes so absolutely feral whenever you choose to wear more figure fitting clothes, when you choose to wear things that really accentuate all of your gorgeous curves and show off the plump flesh of your thighs…

“ you look so beautiful in this, baby… makes you look so good ” ( he will very quickly dive into a jumbled ramble about how you always look good anyways but you look especially good in this which just makes you laugh before planting a light peck on his blushing cheek )

✩ terje physically cannot keep his pale hands away from you when you do wear those types of clothes, he is always holding your hips from behind and slowly tracing his cold hands up and down your thighs as if trying to warm you up despite his hands being so chilled against your skin

- and whilst terje might look quite skinny and not very muscular at all, he can definitely pick you up with little to no problem, no matter your height nor your weight! he is one of those people who does not really look all that strong but has quite a bit of hidden strength

✩ terje if often seen as kind of creepy and almost off putting to most people but he would definitely be so beyond sweet to you! he is just a total little love bug when it to comes to you and his content little relationship with you

- i feel like terje has a major thing for scent, he absolutely loves the gentle smell of your perfume or your cologne, the soft smell of your shampoo and even just your natural musk! if you use a certain fruit scented shampoo or anything even similar to that, he will never not smell that same scent in the air around him and not get a rush as he thinks of you, as he connects that smell back to you! any smell that reminds him of you, any smell that he can connect to you will never fail to make a small smile crawl across his pale face as he thinks about you

✩ it is actually kind of why he tends to let you wear his clothes whenever you ever want to, he does not attempt to fight you off from stealing his sweaters nor his band shirts at all, he actually gets a little bit excited when he sees you choose one of his shirts over one of your own when the two of you are getting dressed for the day

- terje just adores getting those items of his clothing back from you and just smelling so much of you on them, the smell of you that is still clinging to the fabric is such a comfort thing for him, you are just such a sacred comfort thing for him

✩ one time when you were in the midst of giving his sweater back to him after about a week of having it in your possession, you had offhandedly told him that he might want to wash it because it smells very strongly of your perfume and he came very close to accidentally revealing his immense love for your scent to you…

“ hm? why would i wash- oh! yes, yeah… i will wash it, definitely! thanks, baby… ” ( he just barely catches himself so quickly, widening his eyes and fixing his statement )

- terje really thinks that you do not know anything about his love for your scent… as if you would not know! his near obsession with how you smell is clear and almost overly obvious to you but you do not ever tell him that you know about it, you just keep that knowledge to yourself and think it is so cute how shy and secretive he gets about it… and how hard he tries to keep it a secret from you…

✩ whenever terje is standing just behind you or holding you in his lap, he has his nose downright buried into the soft locks of your hair as he inhales the euphoric scent of your shampoo, his brain doing its absolute best to memorise and store the smell for later use

- if terje sees anyone eyeing him kind of weirdly as he does this, he will usually just glare right at them with his nose still nuzzled right into your hair from behind

✩ for some reason, terje really kind of strikes me as a man who would love little arcade and carnival dates!

- terje most likely will not ever tell any of his friends that he likes them but he definitely does, he takes you to the local little arcade almost every week with whatever kind of small amount of money that he has to spend on you! he likes spending time with you and he likes having fun with you, he likes having genuine fun with you and he likes feeling being so free with you…

✩ winning you cute little plushies from the way overpriced and definitely rigged claw machines? absolutely! somehow, he is almost a god at those set up for failure claw machines, he walks around checking all of the angles through the glass before pressing the button for the claw to descend

- terje has given you a vast plushie collection now, most of them sit atop your shared bed whilst others are on shelves around your apartment together

✩ whenever he takes you out to carnivals, terje loves buying you overly sweet and colourful candy floss as well as sticky caramel apples! he just cannot get over the leftover taste of the sugary sweet treats on your soft lips and gives you so many deep yet gentle kisses after you have eaten them as well as in the midst of you eating them beside him

- i mean, it is a dose of sugary goodness and it is your soft lips on his! why would he not be absolutely addicted to that?

✩ terje often goes to these carnivals with you in his full corpse paint getup, he is almost constantly scaring the hell out of children who pass by the two of you and he is laughing so loudly when they yelp in fear at the sight of him, throwing his arm further around you and kissing your head when you tell him to knock it off despite sharing a quiet chuckle with him

- though one thing is that terje always refuses to ever ride the lit up ferris wheel with you, i just feel like he has a major fear of heights but will not ever admit it to you!

“ no, i’m not scared… just don’t see the point, i’ll make out with you anywhere, why do you want to do it up there? ” ( he absolutely understands why it would be so much more romantic and special than making out against a hard and almost rough wall but he just cannot do it, he just refuses to possibly vomit into your mouth as the two of you are swapping spit because of the height affecting his sweet treat filled stomach )

✩ terje probably won you a poor little goldfish from a carnival once and the two of you treated it really well for the few months that it lived with you guys in your apartment…

- and i mean, terje was seriously so very sad when it eventually died a short while after he had won it! the two of you held a dramatic yet genuine little funeral for it and buried it deep in the thick woods just behind your apartment building with bård and tomas in attendance, both of whom were poking far too many jokes about how “ soft ” terje was on a damn fish

✩ please cut his hair and do his corpse paint for him!

- terje does not really trust himself to cut his own hair anymore because the first real and last time he ever did, he cut off way too much at the back and had to give himself a downright embarrassing little bob just to make it look at least a little bit better… but you did give him a well deserved pity blowjob that day to make him feel a bit better so it was not all bad, right?

✩ and terje just really loves having you sat comfortably on his lap whilst you paint his face with sticky black and white paint, his calloused fingers are always trailing just a little bit too high up your thighs and dipping just under the hem of your panties before you smack them away with a shove of his shoulder when you see the sly smirk on his half painted face

- when you glare at him and tell him he is going to make you mess the paint up, terje will just shoot you a cheeky smile with a scrunched up nose before leaning up to give you a deep kiss that you will have to break away from first

✩ i can definitely see terje being a comfortable little spoon when the two of you cuddle up in your shared bed! or he is at least just a guy who really likes laying his head down on your chest! please just cuddle him and stroke his long hair, honestly it makes him feel as if he is in the safest space on planet earth, it makes him feel as though he has ascended to some otherworldly land of pure bliss

- his long hair is always so incredibly messy in the morning, there are strands of it strewn all across your chest and all over his own tired face! he looks like he has very thick hair so he probably has quite a few tangles to deal with, that he will want you to deal with for him, when he wakes up <3

[sporktato]

Ghost has bad luck with sergeants

His first is an American named Washington, and we know how it ends but it starts like this.

Sergeant Simon Riley steps onto American soil, not quite certain why he's been placed with an American squad, or even how long he's supposed to be with them, and it's Sergeant Marcus Washington who grabs his attention with a call of, "English!" Later that night, at his welcome party at the local bar, it's Washington who shoves Riley's first glass of bourbon into his hand with some explanation that Washington himself is from Kentucky.

Despite the first day's welcome, it takes time for the two to become close, because he's still Simon Riley so he trusts people as far as he can throw them, but he's still just Simon Riley at this point, so he tries to match Washington's attempts at comradery.

It's easier, once they realize they both know the weight of their father's fists. It's easier once Riley realizes the constant games of pickup basketball Washington forces him into playing is his own flawed coping mechanism. It's easiest once Washington catches him on the phone with his family, and Riley's ready to knock his lights out because he is still Simon Riley and will die protecting his family, but Washington lights up and starts rambling about his baby sister. His baby sister who got the looks and the smarts (Washington's words, not his), and who just finished her electrical apprenticeship last month, and whose schooling was paid for by Washington's military pay after their parents found out she liked kissing girls as well as guys. Very quickly, it becomes Washington and Riley. At the bar with bourbons, in the lounge trading sibling stories as Washington made a valiant attempt to teach Riley how to play guitar, or on the court as Riley set up shot after shot after shot for Washington to sink.

When Riley gets promoted, Washington hoots and hollers for him, ramping up in noise when he learns he's going to be Riley's sergeant and the entire squad ends up at the bar to celebrate. There's a polaroid somewhere from that night, Riley red faced from embarrassment or alcohol smiling wide with Washington's arm over his shoulders, leaning on Riley and laughing as Sparks falls into Riley's other side - no one will ever admit if he tripped or was pushed. All three of them and the troops surrounding them are all dead and gone now, but here, in this little square, they're frozen in time, abundantly alive - mid-smile, mid-laugh, mid-fall, middle of the rest of their lives for all they know. It's months before Vernon sends them to Mexico.



Ghost's second sergeant is Roach, and we know how it ends but it starts like this.

Ghost is just shy of a feral mutt when they're paired together. No one really realizes - he passed his psych evals, Shepard doesn't care enough to notice, and Price, well, that's complicated. So the hand Ghost bites is Roach's. Silent Roach who blares music constantly, to express himself, or to cover their joint silence, or just because he loves music. Roach loves a lot of things. Bugs and the beach and key chain charms and coffee shops (but not coffee). Candles, dogs, tv shows about zombies, and history documentaries. Life.

It's Roach who spends months getting a knife to his throat every time he wakes Ghost up from his memories. It's Roach and Roach alone that helps the corpse of Simon Riley become Ghost, and Ghost become... not human, not good, but not wild and wrathful either. It's Roach that reminds Ghost what it means to be a lieutenant and that it's his responsibility to take care of those under his command. Ghost learns BSL, and finds his own sliver of solace in it. There are days Ghost can't talk either, or days he's afraid if he opens his mouth he'll start screaming and won't stop till someone puts a bullet in his head. The two of them get good at Morse Code, at whistling, even at charades. They get good at understanding each other (mostly it’s Roach navigating Ghost’s new minefield), and it’s as silent a friendship as Riley’s and Washington’s was loud. It’s Roach that convinces Ghost to trust Price and Nik and the others. Ghost doesn’t know when he started listening to Roach, but a small, fragile attempt at trust is silently - always silently, now - given to Price.

They do not talk of family, or of how Ghost will order bourbons but never drink them, or the aversion Ghost has for the ratty basketball hoop on base. They spend Christmases on base, physically together but Ghost so far away for most of it. Roach makes him eat and shower and sleep and go for walks, even if Ghost doesn’t remember most of it. At some point Ghost all but begs Roach for music recommendations, Roach’s love finally making Ghost understand his own craving for playing music, but all he knows are the country songs Washington taught him and he can’t do that now, he just can’t.

There is a picture tucked somewhere in Price’s belongings of Ghost and Roach sitting side by side in a heli, both silent, unmoving, faces covered, but joined by a pair of headphones connected to the battered ipod in Roach’s hand. It was taken by Scarecrow as they flew over the Russian border, hours before Roach is killed by a mortar strike, mere feet away from Ghost.

Ghost’s third sergeant is not Gaz. He refuses outright, metaphorically throwing the younger man at Price. Ghost goes a very long time without a sergeant, without a friend, without someone he allows himself to trust aside from Price. He isn’t half insane anymore and Roach trained him too well to revert back to that form fully, so Price allows this isolation. His solitary reputation is cemented with time, and he is not Simon Riley and he is not the creature Roach eventually tamed and so he is monotonous. Two-dimensional. Translucent in the sun. It’s fine, ideal even, no one gets hurt if no one touches him. (He doesn’t know if he’s protecting them or himself.)

Ghost’s third sergeant is Soap, and we know how it starts - a punch and a promise - but fuck is Simon terrified of how it ends.

[blackjackkent]

Further explorations of the Bhaal temple before we head back to camp.

Orin's lackeys are all still hanging around the temple, and I half-expected them to attack when I tried to talk to them, but they're all chill. Rakha basically seems beneath their notice at this point; they're all impressed she managed to kill Orin but disdainful that she rejected the power Bhaal offered. Rakha does not really want to hear about this, but is at least glad it doesn't mean another fight. She feels desperately tired atm.

They also don't try to stop her heading down into the temple's back room, which appears to have been Orin's bedroom.

There's another earthquake as they reach the lower level.

The room itself is carpeted with pools and channels of flowing blood. Dead bodies lie eviscerated in corners, as well as books scribbled with notes in Orin's hand.

Another deeply strange moment. Reading these words, smelling this overpowering scent of blood and viscera in this room... until today it would have sent her feral and wild, violent, desperately struggling not to rip the throat out of the nearest person to hand.

But she feels nothing, except maybe a faint nausea. Her mind is empty. Her thoughts are clear, blank. It should be comforting - but there's a certain terror to it as well. She no longer understands herself.

With a sudden flare of agitation she spins and slams her staff through the wood of a nearby chest, shattering it apart.

Her shoulders sag, staring down at the splintered wood. The violence felt familiar, safe - and yet also foreign.

Who am I now?

There's a book in the chest, another scrawl in Orin's handwriting - addressed to her.

Wyll reads the words over Rakha's shoulder and frowns. "That was why she attacked you, then? She didn't agree with you working with the other Chosen," he says carefully.

"Foolish," Rakha mutters. Her voice is so strangely soft; not angry or resentful, but just terribly, terribly tired. "She didn't... see inside my mind. I had planned to kill them all... when the job was done."

"A good thing she didn't, too," Wyll points out. "If she hadn't attacked you, taken your memories... you wouldn't be here now. With me, with us."

She nods vaguely. A long pause. "Who am I now, though?" she asks, voicing the question out loud this time, hoping he might have a better answer than she does.

He doesn't, though. "You're free," he says after a moment's silence, clearly stepping very carefully. "You can be... whoever you want to be."

"I don't know who that is."

-----

More ramblings from Orin in a document labeled "Manifesto" on a table nearby:

And in a closet nearby, in a hand Rakha doesn't recognize:

Rakha's rapid extrapolation has not abandoned her along with the beast's violence. This is written by Orin's mother, her sister, Sarevok's daughter with which he fathered her. Distaste flits across Rakha's face.

This does, she supposes, provide an identity for the corpse hanging on the wall.

"Abomination," Jaheira mutters grimly. "Cruelty on cruelty. One could almost feel sorry for Orin, were it not for the ocean of blood on her hands."

Rakha tilts her head. "Do you feel sorry for me?" she asks quietly.

A long pause. Jaheira looks at her sidelong. "Yes," she says.

"Then I feel sorry for her as well." A pause. Her lips twitch in a flash of black humor. "Though not enough to wish her alive."

-----

Rakha considers the dessicated corpse for a little while in silence. After a bit, she lifts one hand and prods cautiously at the Weave. Relief, unexpected in its intensity, shoots through her to find it still there, strong and unmarred; the ripping of the beast Urge from her did not take her magic as well.

Green light begins to swirl around her and illuminate her eyes as she draws delicately on the threads, opening the a tunnel through the fabric to a realm beyond, as she first witnessed He Who Was doing in what seems another life.

The dead woman stirs with a writhing motion and a ragged, moaning inhale.

Narrator: The corpse regards you lifelessly.

"Who are you?"

"Helena... Anchev... daughter of... Sarevok... mother... of... Orin..."

"What happened to you?"

"Orin... my daughter... I tried... to kill... her... but she... killed me... first."

"Why did you try to kill your own daughter?"

"I... wanted... to be... Bhaal's... Chosen... Sarevok... told me... she... must be... my... offering... I was... close... my hand... around... her throat... I failed..."

"Did Orin know that Sarevok ordered you to kill her?"

"No... she worshiped... him... loved... him... So... did... I..."

Rakha's hand falls back to her side. The spell fades. The woman's body sags back into immobility.

No true information of use. But she feels more settled - not because of speaking to Helena, but because the touche of the Weave has not left her.

-----

Almost more unnerving than anything else is another book in another chest, this one in another sharp and precise hand that Rakha has seen before. Her own.

Cold brutality. This was who she was before Orin's lobotomy. It's almost as foreign as the animal violence the beast cultivated. She is neither of these people now.

And yet... there are some aspects that are familiar. A loyalty is clear in these words - to the cultists, to their history. Even perhaps to Gortash, should he pass the test she was setting for him.

She is still capable of that loyalty - to Wyll, to Lae'zel, to Jaheira and Minsc and her other companions. She can still think, deduce, ask questions and understand the answers. She can still see the magic on the skin of the world, can still touch it and use it.

Perhaps there are other pieces of herself she might find to hold onto, in time.

[h-didanart]

Hmmmm. Favorite memories of each Bloodmoon? Whether they be funny, heartfelt, cozy, bloodthirsty, or whatever. Just whatever their favorite memories are.

*evil laughter* you have no idea what you’ve just unleashed upon yourself

I have well over 12 Bloodmoons… Let’s get started :)

Swap (Scythe and Fang)— pre-redemption, making the deal with Sun to keep their family safe, they are very proud of having come to that agreement. Post-redemption, watching the stars with Gemini, they do that a lot, she really enjoys the time spent together with the astral

Retired (Bloody//Buck and Harvest//Styx)— up to their current canon, any time Harvest laughs at Bloody’s jokes, and Bloody going on rambles over human bone structure and the differences with different animals (first is Bloody’s, second is Harvest’s)

Separated (Hunter and Harvest)— Harvest’s is finally reuniting with her twin and family and being carried away with her twin so they could finally rest. Hunter’s is waking up at home next to his twin after finally reuniting after a month of being apart. These both happened in the same day

Econ (Bit and Crypt)— pre-joining the family, scamming a bunch of people on Reddit. Post-joining the family, trainings Days in the ways of snarkyness

Lone (Original)— literally every memory he has with his twin. If it had to be narrowed down, right after they left Ruin and before they met Roderick, when they were as free as they could be, hunting hikers in the forest and drinking the blood as they watched the night sky

Glitch (Dagger and Rifle)— KillCode picking them up and carrying them away to get blood right after they were revived

Living (Rabies and Bleed)— a sleepover they had at KillCode’s bunker with the Glitch Twins, they drank lots of blood and played tag all around the place, and then they settled down on the nest to share stories of their guardians, the Glitch Twins comforted them over their situation

Amnesiac (Ruby and Vermillion)— KC taking them fishing, they didn’t catch anything but they liked the place

Magic (Sturgeon and Harvest)— a Halloween “prank” she played, they pretended to be a lost child and led their victims to a cemetery where she proceeded to kill them in very gruesome ways

Fantasy (Eventide and Quietus)— pre-revival, KillCode placing a spell on them that allowed them to be in the sunlight for a few hours, they ran around and had lots of fun. Post-revival, accidentally becoming a cryptid to the local feral cat population

Ocean (Bloody, Scythe, Rabies, and Harvest)— either when they found out Lunar was alive, or when it truly set in for them that Foxy wasn’t going to abandon them (probably as the older was reading a book to them and FC to lull them to sleep after some rough first days of sailing)

YT (Cardenal and Alizarin)— sightseeing in Spain for Cardenal, watching a very pretty sunset while on a boat for Alizarin

God of Doom (Antho and Myco//Necropolis)— that time they tag teamed Stitchwraith in the short amount of time they got to be separated and alive at once

Lament (Harvey)— actually becoming friends with the rest of the choir and getting to know them

Ballad (J)— their friends throwing them a little birthday party :D

Monster twins (Blood and Snow)— seeing the surface for the first time, and getting to experience chicken nuggets for the first time

Horror (Heaven and Hatchet)— the Halloween they spent with their brother and sister

Plague (Rabies and Prions)— crushing their shock collar with a hammer as Nex recorded them

Guard (Saber)— wandering the streets when it was still one with its twin, specifically during a full moon

Keeper (Sickle)— them getting Buzzsaw to finally look visibly concerned for them (by almost dying)

Overlord (Phoenix and Gaia)— finishing building Their Father’s Temple and spending the night there

Rotting (Decay and Waste)— that time they kidnapped Sun and Lunar and had them play tea party with them, Ruin, and a bunch of corpses

[feralcorpses]

Hello there! You can call me Feral for short or that weird random corpse(thatshouldbe)in the dirt near a wizard tower that no one decided to move or close off from the public!!!

I go by any pronouns and I’m proudly a AroAce Lesbian ^^

I mainly draw fanart of mcyt specifically Hermitcraft and the Life Series.

My asks are nearly always open so feel free to send art reqs or ask me things :D

Don’t use my art without asking first, claim it as your own, or repost it.

This ties in with the statement above it but, but don’t use my art, posts, anything for ai purposes I do not consent nor approve of this at all.

I am autistic so I might not catch onto some things or understand certain things, if I do smt I shouldn’t just tell me and I’ll try to fix it.

DNI if your an zionist, nsfw account, acephobic/arophobic, ableist, pro-ai art and chat bots, racist, sexist, misogynist, transphobic, homophobic, a proshipper or anti-lgbtqia+ in general please and thank you.

Art Tag + Talking Tag.

(Sometimes I won’t post for a bit, usually because school is kicking my ass and I end up with no motivation to do really do anything for a bit.)

[sillygoofyqueer]

I came across your MDZS fic and it’s amazing and I just wanted to say I appreciate the extreme angst because it’s so well written! (I love angst and your fic is the best I’ve seen in awhile) tho ngl at one point I was wondering if MXY would be brought back as a fierce corpse like WN. Kinda glad you didn’t go that route but also I’m crying over WWX taking care of MXY’s ribbon. Thank you for writing this!

Am I crying??? Maybe I am, but you'll never know. In all honesty, this is so so sweet, I'm so glad that you're enjoying reading it! It actually never crossed my mind to bring Mo Xuanyu as a fierce corpse, and thinking about it now I'm also glad I didn't go down that route. I think it'd kind of take away from the whole thing of another stranger dying just so he could survive - if Mo Xuanyu came back, it'd minimise the sacrifice, I think. It's like Mo Xuanyu would still get a shot at life like Wen Ning did, which means that his death was able to be rectified. It shows the cruelty of Jin Guangyao as well, because it shows that he doesn't care about anyone that doesn't help his goal? Conversely, there would be a good touch of angst if every time Wei Wuxian saw Mo Xuanyu, he was reminded that this teenager is undead because of him (bonus points if he was the one to raise Mo Xuanyu, because then there would be the internal argument of selfishness vs selflessness for bringing the boy back). However, that could definitely still be shown through the ribbon as a constant reminder? If that makes sense. Once again, thank you so so so much for sending this, I'm passing out with such joy, sobbing my eyes out fr!!! Don't mind my rambling, but I love that you cared enough to actually mention the alternative in the ask, it really got me thinking because it's such an interesting change that I can't believe I didn't think of. I love you so soso soooo much, and I'm going feral at the insinuation that you like my fanfic this much! I LOVE YOU!!!!

[a-chinese-doll]

Random brainstorming

I was planning to write a story on this...but meh...still unsure on what to do, yet the extract came out well. :3

Calloused hands glided down shapeless curves, fondling the decaying flesh of unpleasurable breasts. The sound of skin colliding echoed through the room, voiceless moans piercing his ears like the anguished wail of a Banshee. Each movement, a macabre dance, played out between the sheets. Choso Kamo had been with the most beautiful women over the past few months, yet they all felt to him like lifeless, cold corpses.

He wasn’t seeking pleasure or trying to satiate his untamed desires; he was desperately searching for a way to forget the only woman he had ever loved: YOU.

Gorgeous—those women were gorgeous, expertly pleasuring him and matching his handsome appearance. Yet none of them had an identity, a face, or a name, because they were not you.

Choso’s growls filled the air as he took his last date doggy-style, feral and brutal, on the edge of the bed, thrusting into an anonymous drenched core. He ached for release, to finally cum, hoping his memory of you would wash away like his seed, buried in the recesses of his mind as he buried himself in that unnamed cunt. But every single time he neared his climax, his imagination betrayed him, painting the canvas of his mind with your image—your eyes, your nose, your mouth, your smile were the only visions that could unravel him completely.

Yet, like the bold Icarus, so eager to touch the sun only to plummet into the depths of the sea after his fall, Choso experienced a fleeting, deceptive bliss, only to be devoured by the abyss of the most absurd despair.

As soon as he opened his eyes, the enchanting vision of you had vanished, replaced by the gratified yet insignificant face of a stranger. Why was he here? What the hell was he doing? Tangled in sheets that smelled of sweat and regret, feeling the weight of emptiness that gnawed at his insides?

He had wanted you to be his first, his only, his forever.

And all those women wondered why he would disappear after such intense sexual encounters, after those fervent nights of passion. The truth? That intensity, that ferocity, was merely an expression of how deeply he craved you—your body, your soul, your love.

It would have been different with you. He would have claimed you slowly, with the most graceful movements his body could muster, savoring the blissful sight of you coming undone beneath him, your bodies intertwined like the softest threads of silk, a beautiful tapestry of skin and desire, a symphony of sighs echoing through the air as he lost himself in the depths of your essence.

He refused to kiss the girls he met; the tenderness of his kisses was reserved for your honeyed lips alone. He didn’t even look them in the eyes, instead blankly staring at the wall as he pushed into them in a mating press. The only eyes he wanted to meet were yours—sweet, adoring, and fluttering with those long lashes as they held his gaze.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," each thrust was a desperate outlet, a futile attempt to rid himself of the pain at the thought of not being able to have you.

He wandered desperately in search of someone who could soothe the void slowly pulling him under, hoping for a remedy that could heal his aching heart. But nothing—nothing—could compare with you.

Yuuji was always by his side, the poor boy, supporting him when he needed it most, listening to his drunken ramblings in a booth at the bar as he pleaded his love for you and cursed the day he decided to be human.

Being human sucked, and it sucked even more when faced with the harsh reality of unrequited love.

[stormclawponyrises]

I watched Mad Max 2: The Road Warrior tonight, continuing my rewatch and commentary on the Mad Max franchise. What follows will primarily be a stream of consciousness with some edits as more was revealed. I already know a bit about the franchise and the production but it's been at least a decade since I last watched this film so I'm gonna be going in effectively almost blind.

This is a sort of long and rambling post

The opening monologue reminds me of the apparently commonly understood lore that the 3 sequel Mad Max films are not perfect canon- instead being retellings of an oral history of the outback, of this man called Max. It's a good way of approaching them all, if you assume them to be imperfect stories of his exploits, passed down throughout history, and it also explains the massive differences that occur between the films (especially in the case of Fury Road). The feral kid being revealed as the narrator means the details of The Road Warrior are likely fairly accurate, other than what may have been altered by a child's perception or the changing of memory. Presenting a story as a retelling of events or an oral history leaves extra room for suspension of disbelief.

The first "proper" scene already shows quite a big difference from the first film, while still starting with a carchase just like last time. The region is more desolate and brown, the clothing and vehicles more rundown and cruddily put together, Max has a dog, and some greying hair. It feels much further from civilization from the previous film and you can really feel that something has happened in the time since the first.

The detail of Max having a leg brace due to his injury in the previous film is a nice touch (and later when someone oils it up for him in the corner of the frame). The guys on the motorbike just sorta watching him while he grabs some gas is very unusual though. The practical effects when it comes to corpses at close range can be pretty laughable, the detail is good but the eyes always look pretty fake. I guess they just had to work with what they got, especially for low budget films like the first few.

Trying to grab a live snake is dumb as hell but the very fucked circumstances mean any kind of risk to get what you need is fair. Using the dog to form a kill-switch is hilarious. Imagine having your life directly in the paws of a dog's attention span.

Just 20 minutes in and this film already has so much more detail than the first. The layouts of each scene, the way the characters dress and act, the vehicles, the fact that Max casually eats dog food cos it's all he's got. There's also a bit more dialogue than I remember while still being predominantly show-not-tell (other than the exposition given by the pilot character and the opening monologue).

There's long quiet moments where we see and hear what the characters do, building mystery and suspense, and making the moments feel natural.

This film also feels more comedic than the first, especially with the scenes with Wez and the feral child.

All these people in BDSM gear...and police gear. The latter is honestly more suspicious to me haha

Max seems to be portrayed as a man who does things almost purely for self-preservation, which fits the apocalyptic setting and the setup of him becoming cold and heartless in the first film. Dog protects him, he uses the pilot and his copter for personal gain, it's possible he was nice to the feral kid because of a genuine need to ingratiate himself because that kid would probably be very happy with punting a boomerang straight into his brainbox at the smallest off step, but it's also possible it was part of his fatherly instinct. He did have a son once, after all. It's honestly a bit surprising that he actually goes through with stealing the tanker for the community, but given he needed fuel for himself and he knew where to find it, there's a pretty high chance he was just going to try and steal it regardless. There's clearly some compassion still within him, but it's tiny and well guarded. Perhaps he even tries to repress it, so he doesn't feel the same pain he felt after his family died.

I love the message passing scene between the engineer and the town leader. It's no game of telephone but the delivery feels a bit intentionally silly.

How the fuck did he survive the V8 crash. He a fucking supersoldier or something. Max is simply BUILT DIFFERENT I guess. But even in real life the body's capacity to survive and push further is often under appreciated. He's incredibly lucky the pilot was willing to rescue him, and did so in time. In my mind there's not much he did to deserve that, other than I guess being a useful resource for the community (the pilot did mention that he has insane reflexes, which supports this). For an apocalyptic setting that makes enough sense to me.

This film has far more dialogue than I remember it having, which is nice.

The car-chase climax of this film is far more exciting and involved than the first film. There's a lot going on and a lot more arcs that need to be addressed. It's not just Max anymore, its Wez and Humungus and the feral kid and all the community people and the pilot. It can feel a bit drawn out, but I am someone who's never been that interested in car chases or racing so it's probably an issue of taste for me- it's a major focus for the film franchise after all. It's still enjoyable though.

Fun(?) facts that may or may not be true because my memory is terrible:

Wez's butt would turn purple in the cold and most of the footage was filmed during the colder months, so they had to do workouts and extra takes to make sure his butt was pink whenever he was on screen.

Apparently the original intent was for Humungus to be Goose I believe (his fucked up head and covered face meant to imply a man who was badly burnt), and the high amount of police gear and police vehicles in his crew was because many of the raiders were meant to originally have been policemen who became cold and heartless just as Max had feared for himself.

Some years ago I went with my mother and brother on an outback road trip during the summer so my brother could get some hours up for his driver's license. We drove up to Silverton, a small village near one of Mad Max 2's filming locations and had a look around. There's a Mad Max 2 museum there which was fun to check out. They even had their own Blue Heeler, just like Dog. The flatland outside of town where the filming was done is so massive and so flat in places you can see the curvature of the Earth if you stand at a distance, it was breathtaking. The Silverton Hotel was also one of the filming locations of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert, which my mum had named her 4WD after. While in an isolated area, if you're ever traveling through New South Wales I recommend stopping by and taking a look around.

[dorylinae-supremacy]

Oh also having emduo brainrot again

I was thinking about the dynamic between emperor Phil and just the feral piglin kid he found off in the woods or the nether somewhere.

Rambles below cut!

Maybe something like a kidnapping where some idiots tried to take Phil and he ended up lost and had to trek back to society so he could get picked up again.

On the way he goes through the nether and just sees an absolutely feral child / teen (havent decided yet) who probably doesnt even speak the same language.

There'd probably be a while where Phil is cautious of him and Techno is considering his chances on attacking him. Probably wants to rob Phil for his gold and maybe eat him after. Usual teen things.

At some point he probably does something that makes Phil brood. Maybe him just being a bit pathetic or getting hurt and very hesitantly reaching out for help from Phil. Obviously thats when he decides that Techno is in fact his baby now and starts to take him home.

Somewhere along the way theyd develop some form of communication. Probably just a couple of basic words they understand (yes, no, danger, hungry etc) and build off of that as a base.

Honestly I think theyd be pretty rough with each other. Techno is an unruly teenager / preteen and Phil is a mean emperor with little patience. Its not like they can talk through their feelings so they just have to be physical about it.

Techno wouldnt understand Phil calmly explaining why he cant maul a deer and dump it on his bed but he would understand Phil shaking his scruff and saying 'no ' and 'off' while pointing to the corpse on the bed.

Same goes for Phil. This man doesnt speak a word of piglin so the only real way that Techno can communicate a want for attention is by a) mauling a guard and making a mess in the hallway or b) tracking Phil down and just laying on him until he gets the message.

Combine this with the fact that Phil would absolutely enable Techno's violent tendencies its just a very fun mix. Tech probably only respects Phil as an authority figure (after fighting for it ofc) and simply ignores anyone else trying to tell him what to do.

Just imagine being one of the palace guards for a moment. The emperor goes missing for like 2 weeks and comes back with a random fucking teen who doesnt communicate outside basic words. Ok. Fine. Phils always been eccentric this can be chill.

The teen then just starts to maul your coworkers, brawl the emperor just in the halls unprompted and can only really be scolded by the man just holding him down and saying 'no' until it clicks.

The way that I'd just be so mad.

Anyway I think I just like the language and instinct barrier dynamic a lot. Like they both agree that they’re family and that they’d kill for each other but they can barely actually communicate with each other.

Technoblade probably isn’t even Techno’s name, Phil probably just butchered pronouncing his actual name and the boy decided “fuck it, close enough” and started responding to it.

It’s also funny to think that Techno doesn’t have a full understanding of royalty or that kind of dynamic so he’s just baffled on why everyone lets Phil be an asshole towards them.

Just a silly guy who’d think that every blonde is somehow related to Phil because they share the same ‘fur colour’.

[highlifeboat]

You know how sometimes you think about something sweet and your mind goes "but what if we made it darker?".

Yeah.

So what if Max's mom was revived somehow?

Like we talked about it happening with Marguerite in the past, and the way it fucked with Mia, but what about in this case? How much would it fuck with Max?

Would he be happy, cause she's back? Sad, because it's not his entire family? Traumatized, cause "oh god he saw her broken body, bleeding on the ground and *he ran*, he ran away and he couldn't save them, couldn't save his siblings, her other children, she must hate him, want him gone, he is a monster and undeserving..."?

How would she react to him? (I like to think she would forgive him, would hold and love him. Maybe be a bit overprotective about Dani and the others, because she knows their rep, and he is her "last child left".)

How would she respond to having a son now, rather than the daughter she thought she had? (I hope she would love him all the same, he deserves that much. (Darker thought that it's more because of her not wanting to lose another kid than overall acceptance/understanding, but ehhhh, that might *too* dark. Though I could at least see the confusion still))

How did she get back? My bet's on Miranda - looking for new ways to revive some of her fallen followers, to bolster her ranks once more, and started with his family because, even if they were ripped apart by Lycans, that's easier to repair than those burnt alive. And Alcina won't let her close enough to her property to use the scarecrows or zombie maidens anymore. Plus "(he)'s always whining about the loss, anyhow. (He) should be grateful I'm so generous." (As if she would ever do anything for reasons other than her own gain, and maybe to try to get on Mia's good side more by appealing to one of her "friends").

What if she came back wrong?

Anyway, long post is long. Sorry for the rambling lol (Yes I put some of Miranda's speech in parenthesis cause I refuse to misgender Max, even to quote that bitch)

When I tell you I went fucking FERAL FOR THIS–

OKAYOKAYOKAYOKAY–

I strongly believe pulling bodies from the rubble of the slaughter and deciding to play God is something Miranda would do. However, I find it far more likely that she would pull Max’s mom by pure chance more than anything. Perhaps she was simply scouring the aftermath and his mom’s corpse was one of the less-mangled/easier to repair bodies she came across. Took any valuables off, stripped the body, and went to work mending the flesh and repairing what she could manually before starting on Cadou injections. And because Miranda had more than one corpse that she pulled, Max’s Mom wasn’t the first to be experimented on, so she wasn’t revived until recently.

Now, having memories in tact when revived was slowly becoming a trend, so she wasn’t surprised when the woman woke up, looked directly to her, and let out a raspy “Mo–ther Mir…a-nda…?” Recognizing something as significant as herself was obvious. But she seemed to retain… more than the basics. When she started coming around, getting more aware, she started to panic. Rambling on about the Lycans, standing from the operating table and calling for various names. None of which Miranda knew except for “Maxima”–(Which, let's be real she only knows his (dead)name because he’s such a disrespectful shit towards her)

So, in typical “Let’s see how far this goes” Miranda fashion, she points his mom in the right direction to find Max. (AKA the giant castle that is commonly known as a human death trap. So his mom is freaking out a little at that information) Then just kind of… sends her off with nothing else.

Okay, so, once his mom finds him in the castle and they’re technically reunited, Max is just…. So many things at once. Emotions are so high, for both of them.

On Max’s side, he’s… He’s happy, but also incredibly confused, and terrified, and just…. Every emotion imaginable feels like it’s weighing on him. His mom is here, alive, but there’s scars and stitches and her skin tone is a sickly pale that almost rivals Alcina. All the evidence of what happened on display, it reminds him of what he’s tried so hard to forget but… But she’s here. For real. He can touch her, say everything he didn’t get to, he can hug her, but he doesn’t know if he should. So much about it hurts, but not all of it is in a bad way.

And that doesn’t even cover the guilt and trauma that seeing her brings. That’s a whole other beast. When his mother asks him what happened to his other siblings, he can’t even begin to try and tell her. How can he? How is he supposed to explain what he allowed to happen, all because he was too much a fucking coward. That all he did was run. That even the one he managed to get to a safe location died anyway. That the only child she has left is the only one that deserves to be dead.

He hasn’t felt the weight of emotions like this since that day, and that’s evident when he starts having a full breakdown over it all. He can’t stop himself from shaking and when the tears come he can’t hide it. When she pulls him into a hug in a hope to comfort him, he clings onto her as if it’s life or death. Because to him it may as well be.

And from her side…. She doesn’t even know what to think. He looks so incredibly different from what she remembers. She almost didn’t realize who he was, but that face and those eyes are unmistakable to her. He looks older than he should, she thinks, and tired. As if he hasn’t slept in years. And the scars. Not to mention… everything else about his appearance. She has so many questions for him, but she asks about her other children first.

The look he gives her is answer enough, but the sobbing that quickly follows it is all the confirmation she needs. Her heart twists like a knot, knowing her children suffered the same fate as her, the pain and fear they all must have felt. That Max has suffered all this time, a lone survivor. When she pulls him into a hug, he squeezes her tight, and for a while they just… sit, on the floor. She rocks him a little, strokes his hair, anything to try and calm him. Between his heavy sobs are raspy apologies. He’s so sorry, he tells her, he should have done more. He couldn’t save them. He was so scared and the Lycans came so fast. And she tells him to hush. She’s not upset with him, it wasn’t his fault, she loves and forgives him. Whatever he needs to hear in order to compose himself a little.

In terms of Max’s transitioning, it definitely takes her by surprise. She isn’t necessarily upset about it in any way, he’s still her baby, and she’ll love him no matter what identity he chooses to go by. But she also doesn’t fully understand it. And he doesn’t expect her to, as long as she’s supportive. She might slip up and misgender him by accident on occasion, but it’s not malicious, and she does correct herself/make an effort to get it right. It might’ve caught her off guard at first, but her love is unconditional. (Also her saying “You’ve grown into a handsome young man.” to him would make him burst into tears again. Like that’s something he would fantasize about.)

I do think the only thing that gets her is the fact… Max is basically integrated into the Dimitrescu family at this point. Like, when Max tells her “You should meet my girlfriend.” She didn’t expect to meet with one of the Dimitrescu Daughters (though Daniela does try to be very polite), nevermind wind up meeting all of them, and Lady Dimitrescu herself.

It does put her into a bit of a protective stance, though. Despite Max insisting things are perfectly fine and the Dimitrescus really aren’t as evil as the stories say, she can’t quite help but be… nervous. They don’t really blame her. (Perhaps she’s a little… too protective. But Max doesn’t seem to mind it.)

Now, the idea that she comes back wrong is even more interesting, because I like to imagine a scenario in which both these worlds exist.

Max gets his mom back, happy family, all is good. For a while, anyway. And then things… change.

Maybe his mom starts becoming a little hostile. More aggressive towards everybody. It starts off little at first, and Max tries to chalk it up to simple stress from trying to adjust to everything. His mom isn’t an angry person, after all. But it slowly starts getting more out of hand, to a point it feels like she’s trying to be territorial.

Of him.

And it’s not something she’s particularly thrilled over. It’s a very “I can’t control myself” scenario. Kind of like a parasite slowly eating at her mind and turning her into a host.

And I just think it would be really fun if it culminated in some physical fight between her and Daniela, and Max having to step in and break it apart.