#my brain wants to consume but also word vomit

[stressandemotionaltrauma]

HEY

Tell me all about your Star Wars OC's/Self-inserts. Give me the lore, the headcanons, the tea, all of it! But expect me to do the same.

Info dump to me cause I love it but don't be a dick about it. ❤️

[onceonafullmoon]

Convos With Rin

Rin x Gn! Reader

No warnings! Just pure fluff, also you can ignore the last 2 lines if you want to read this as platonic!

Aka: maladaptive daydreams by yours truly that I cleaned up and formatted. Part 2 here

“Sometimes I wonder if the idealized, romanticized version of relationships I’ve built up in my head are subconsciously affecting my navigation in reality.”

“What?” Rin asks, rolling over from where he lies on his bed to look at you, his teal eyes switching from his phone to glance over at you.

“Sorry, that was word vomit.” You say waving a hand dismissively before speaking again. “It’s just… I mean that I wonder if my expectations of romantic relationships have been distorted because of all the media I consume. And I wonder if that would ruin any chance I have of a healthy relationship.”

You absentmindedly start fiddling with your fingers as you speak.

“Like, for example dating sims, every love interest is over possessive and jealous, and that’s fine, cause it’s a fantasy. And obviously it’s not endorsed in real life, because if you date someone who foams at the mouth every time you look at another man, you’ll have issues. But… sometimes I wonder if I’ll think back to those dumb games when I’m in a relationship and choose something unhealthy for myself.”

A comfortable silence lapses after your ramblings and you wait patiently for your best friend's response.

“…you sure do think a lot more than I expected.” He says after a while and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“Wow thanks.” You drone out. “You know what? I’d rather you have just flipped me off and called me a dumbass than whatever attempt of a compliment that was.”

“Didn’t mean it like that, I meant that I’d never once thought about that.” He says cooly, in a way that makes you unfairly jealous of his demeanor.

“Yeah? Well, I’m not surprised. Your brain is composed of 50% football and the other half is basic motor skills. I doubt you’ve even thought of anything outside of that.”

“…not true.”

“Oh yeah, you’re right. Somewhere, squeezed between the cracks of those key areas, is your vast knowledge of horror trivia.” You joke, your eyes darting over his sprawled form.

“…” He hesitates to respond before muttering out. “That’s not what I meant.”

“What’d you mean then?”

“…nothing, never mind.”

“Oh boo, you whore.” You scoff, sitting up in his desk chair to devote your attention to him. “Come on tell meeee! I tell you everything… well, almost everything but— nonetheless…”

He glares but you simply smile at him before waiting eagerly for him to finally loosen his tongue and spill whatever he has locked away from you.

And maybe deep down he knows that there’s no winning against you because he ends up opening his mouth to speak.

“I…I think about romance sometimes.” He eventually admits, his eyes darting back to his phone in embarrassment.

“Oho?” You straighten up further, a goading grin on your face much to his annoyance. “Our little Rinrin is growing up!”

“Fuck you, this is why I don’t tell you shit.”

“Aww come on, I won’t tease you anymore I promise! Please tell me more!” You practically beg, looking at him with prying eyes.

“This is lame.” Rin scoffs.

“You’re lame! Romance is perfectly natural. Anyways, is this a crush? A passing fantasy?”

“Why do you care so much?”

“I live vicariously through my friends’ love lives, now spillll!” You say, dragging out the last syllable deliberately to piss him off.

“I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“Why not?” You say a pout on your lips.

“Because you’re annoying and you’re only asking to make fun of me.”

“What? Me?” You gasp out in faux surprise. “Never, could I ever make fun of you, after all you’re my dearest most important–”

“Save it.” He cuts you off, content to ignore you now, engrossed in his phone.

“Kill joy… I’ll get it out of you one of these days.” You say darkly before leaning back to sulk in his chair.

“Over my dead body.” He mutters, but if you looked over to him again, you’d see the tell tale way his gaze fell back to you.

Unfortunately for you, Rin’s crush would stay a secret for just a little while longer.

[lixenn]

long vent post, this mostly me just word vomitting my feelings into the voide to cope, feel free to ignore

Got five hours of sleep last night (totally my own fault cause I napped in the afternoon which fucked over my schedule) and I'm so tired. I could technically nap again but this is kind of what got me in this mess so I might just try to power through.

I mostly didn't sleep because of the nap but I also started reading dark fic to distract myself from feeling sad and upset and just generally kind of shitty which naturally made me feel even more like crap. I thought I kicked that bad habit but apparently I didn't which means I need to pay more attention to my emotional state and what I consume in the future... yay about that I guess.

I know I should go outside cause it's been days since I left the house but it's hard OTL it's raining so motivation is even lower than usual. Also my mum wants me to cook this one thing (it's this soup paste thingy? which can be added to several dishes for taste) and I'm so fucking tired I dunno if I can handle making it today because there's a lot of prep work involved. Nap... I want to nap so bad... maybe i can do a power nap on the couch...

Also, I really want to finish chapter 5 but it's dragging a bit. I dunno if it's too dialogue heavy... like my writing is generally pretty damn dialogue heavy but this one hmmmm... yeah. I will need to sort out the one scene I'm working on and then figure out the next one. In general I'm kinda unstasified with my writing rn which might just be because of my low mood and because I stared at it too long but it still sucks feeling that way.

Art wise I'm doing... kinda okay? could be better. could be worse. I wanted to draw a new oc and used a reference on the charater she was inspired by but in the end I just drew the character because... yeah... the pose was too difficult to adjust for proper desgin change OTL I might just finished it anways and just make it a fanart but I put it on hold for now. I will try designing her on actual paper later though I really don't know about hairstyle... I might need to look at pinterest for inspo. Also I keep having ideas for drawing but no real motivation to actually make it because I know it will be difficult. I might need to go back to emote making for something easy to do.

Also I can't continue rewatching that let's play I did recently cause Resident Evil is not something I should watch when I feel like this (the fanfics that fucked me over where RE ones because of course they are). But I'm still in a horror mood so more fluffy things to watch don't hit the vibe. But I wanna watch something... But I can't watch what I want to watch cause it's bad for the brain. Ugh... I'll need to dig through my let's player's old stuff to see if something will scratch the itch without making me bleed.

[threadsdemiseif]

Made by @sapphirestones09

I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THIS AUSGHSJSGDKSHSI

CRYING SHITTING SOBBING

TYSM FOR THE FANFIC, I AM FLOORED

Note: It took an embarrassingly long time to find the submission post. Cons of being tech averse. First fanfic? Yey? English isn’t exactly my first language, and some sentences may sound weird and also punctuations are my enemy. Was supposed to be just a drabble, just a take on the “The Incident” nothing too fancy. It was supposed to be straightforward and simple but then 2.7k words.

During this time the story didn’t even start and there are a lot of details that I may have missed, and plot points are not addressed directly. The fic maybe embarrassingly incorrect when it comes to the events and the interpretation of characters. I know…but I did it anyway.

 This is just purely written with no certain Doctor MC in mind but gained inspiration by asking myself “What would a psychopath in “love” do in this situation?”

 ***

You have never been a romantic.

Although there are times that you convinced yourself you are.

People describe romance and love with words that when put together only sounded like ancient language to you. Foreign. Alien. You drowned yourself in poetry, art, songs, movies, books, you consumed all kinds of media you can get your filthy hands on that emphasizes that kind of ideas, all that work and yet the concept remained an enigma to you. Try as you might it seemed like there is a buffer in your brain causing the words to become static and incomprehensible. Like wisps of smoke and childhood bubbles that pass through your hands when you try to catch it.

People seemed to revolve themselves around it though, becoming the center of their worlds. You? You only saw yourself as an outsider when it comes to this subject. You witness the people you tolerate spinning themselves dizzy around it until they collapse, vomit, and destroy themselves in the process.

You like that. Not romance no, you like the aftermath of it. The chaos left in its wake that you can’t help but marvel. You are curious, intrigued, determined to understand the nature of it and see if you can truly bend it to your will.

How odd your interests are…

And so your experiments began, you engaged yourself for a time. The people around you were more than happy to, it’s a wonder how humans quickly drop to their knees at the sight of a pretty face. Never quite understanding the kind of wretchedness hidden beneath. You instantly learned the system, a smile there, a touch there, a wink, a reassurance, a kiss, a bite, and they are wrapped around your pretty finger.

It quickly got boring. Frustration building inside you. All this time and you still don’t understand it. Everyone says its fun, fulfilling, gratifying in a way that resembles the feeling of jumping from a skyscraper. It overcomes all types of high that you can get from pills and drugs. It’s exhilarating. Maddeningly so.

You want that. That type of feeling. You want to understand it and judge it. If it was truly as amazing as they said it is. If it was worth the wars that waged for it. The lives lost in the name of it.

You want to know the ruin. The hurt. The despair. The madness.

But alas, monsters can’t love, can they?

If that is so, then what is it that you are feeling now?

Why is it that when you look up to their face marred with insanity and tears, do you feel that your heart skip a beat. They look good with hate twisting their soft and gentle features. They look so adorable as their eyes become wet and red with tears and blood. They look so delightful when they sob and growl as they continue to bash your kneecaps.

You are supposed to be feeling pain.

There is a theory you read that when humans experience so much pain beyond their limits of tolerance the person does not feel it. Stimuli overriding the nerves and senses that the person just becomes so numb to it.

Maybe you crossed the threshold of it already as you just feel the lightheaded.

Does the theory even apply to you?

Afterall, you never even thought of yourself as one of them. You could always look beautiful enough. You could always mimic their behavior to the best. You could replicate the twinkle in their eyes and yet. There is always something wrong with you.

You’re only a mess of organs. A casket made of flesh. A jumble of limbs. All to contain nothing but raging madness. You feel it sometimes. Licking the part of your brain and whispers, tickling you with thoughts so vile you can’t even understand it half the time. But sometimes it screams and during those moments you contemplate bashing your head on a rock and watch as blood and brain viscera scatter like red fireworks.

But you don’t feel the madness right now. Pleasant numbness coating you in warmth and comfort.

You can’t really remember what happened that lead to this situation. Them above you, ramming a steel chair on your lower half. Did you even fight back? Did you injure them? Did you curse at them first or did they?

No, you don’t want to think about that, you just want to revel in this moment on how they look so lovely covered in your blood. Yours.

How beautifully tortured they look right now.

So beautiful as they look broken, so so broken by your hands.

You stare at them determined to commit the image to your memory. You will your synapses to work, embedding them to a part of your mind that not even the sickness would touch it.

They were supposed to be another pretty thing to play with. They were so cute and foolish enough to be swayed by your words and touch. Just like the rest, it was so so easy.

And yet here you are underneath them on the cold hard floor covered with your warm blood. Instead of defeat or rage, it is ecstasy that fills you. A sense of pride swells inside. This feeling so exhilarating, gratifying, making you giddy with the excitement.

Is this the love the people spoke about? Then you can understand it now, like puzzle pieces placing themselves until a sense of completion fills you.

You never felt like this before. So whole. So full.

For a moment you are not broken. You are not insane. You are not a disgusting mimicry of everything that is wrong with the world.

You want more. You need more. More...more…

More of what?

More of them.

Of their hate, their ruthlessness, their violence, their cruelty.

Give them all to me, Deziree…

I’ll take it all.

Give me everything that is wrong with you and I’ll kiss it, cherish it, nurture it.

Thank you for existing Deziree, now I don’t have to be alone.

Now, I have someone I can drag with me to the pits of hell.

A siren blares in the background. Shouts of composed terror echo outside. Loud enough to pierce through the cloud of your deliriousness. It seemed to have the same effect to Deziree too as their eyes began to shine with clarity. Horror, regret, disgust, quickly replacing the ferocity of their wrath.

No!

You will not this moment to be over yet! For the first time you felt your heart soar, you felt complete, a sense of belongingness together with them. You can’t let it be over so soon! You simply can’t.

Along with the clarity, the madness began to whisper again. Its tendrils crawling their way to consume any resemblance of sanity left from the previous moment. It offers a way to make the most out of the moment. A way to bind both of you for life. A perfect ending for this absolute freak show.

Your stomach tightens pleasantly. You felt your spine shiver in excitement. Electricity tingles down to your- oh you can’t feel your toes anymore. Nevermind.

Mustering up your strength, your bloodied hands reached over to their face.

Eyes on me.

Only me.

Their attention is now back to you. And you feel complete again.

Oh, how far have you fallen?

You give them a weak smile to which they reciprocate with a blank stare. Mind racing, rationalizing what just happened, remembering the moments that lead them here. Just how did things get this bad? The ever loving Deziree…

You can see them shivering, are they cold? You were the one who’s meant to be cold, considering the blood loss, you are certain you’re going to die if left to your own devices. Well, if that will be the end, why not have some fun.

Your hand slides down to their arms. Their muscles underneath taut with tension and through the stormy expression you can see as clear as day the gradient of emotions. Madness, rage, confusion, love, tenderness, all hues of suffering flicking from one to another. You could sit here all day and watch them in reverence.

They have never been more beautiful as they are now.

Your hands connect with theirs, your smile widening even bigger as your fingers intertwine. You’d be blushing like a fair maiden if it wasn’t for all blood gushing out of you. If your head would have been any clearer, you would question the absurdity of the situation, but its not. It’s filled with chemicals actively trying to keep you alive. The kind that makes you high in glee.

You would also have half the mind to check your own condition being on the brink of death. And you would remedy that immediately. You’re far too smart to be killed aren’t you?

But not this time.

There is nothing as important as you and him in this little corner of the world you marked with red.

His eyes track your movement with the accuracy of a hawk. Then finally, you place his hand around your throat. You’re now a willing prey, baring their most vulnerable to a bloodthirsty predator.

There was no need to wait, their hands immediately applied pressure on your neck. Their fingers that previously held warmth and care now ice cold and harsh. It squeezes your carotid veins, blocking your air until you feel yourself turn blue in seconds if it wasn’t for the blood loss. They grit their teeth even more as a small moan spilled from your lips. Did he take it as a sign of pleasure or pain? You would lick your lips if he could, but you could only manage a pained smile.

“Disgusting. Evil. Vile. Why?! I loved you! I trusted you! And you used me! Ruined me!” they sob.

There were no thoughts in your head. Not a whisper of regret or remorse. You are only staring at him, pupils blown at how beautiful he is under the alternating blues and reds from the window. You now choke and as survival instinct begins to kick in and you thrash. You dig your fingers into their wrists in an attempt to let you go.

You know this is futile and this can cause even more damage to your neck than it already has. But still your body moves in self-preservation. Your mind and body disagreeing in the most beautiful way. You are dying no doubt about that, but by the Gods do you feel so alive.

You feel the precious air being taken away from you. Your blood rushing to your head. Your life slipping away at their hands. It makes you appreciate these little things when you are on death’s door.

Your body begs them to stop, trying to pry away their hands, to push them away from you. You feel the heat of them against you. Your body screams for mercy. But you don’t and you will never want that now, don’t you?

Please don’t let go.

Please hold me.

Please kill me.

“You deserve this. I did nothing wrong! The world will be better without you. I hope you burn in hell,” they spat.

You wheeze as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. The lack of oxygen and blood finally hitting you as you feel your consciousness ebb away.

A bang echoed the walls of the room from the door opening harshly, footsteps and harsh voices goes in. The weight on top of you was then pulled away, you whimpered at the loss. Practiced and efficient hands began to land on you to check on your condition and at the edge of your vision, see that they had restrained Deziree a few feet away from you.

Face planted on the red floor as they thrash against the restraints of police, their voice panicked but their bloodlust evident from the string of curses they release in your direction. The officers are successful in putting them in their place.

You are promptly carried away. The paramedics dons a concerned expression as they talk ensuring to keep your consciousness awake. You close your eyes only replying in tired hums. You don’t have to look at yourself to see that you’re all levels of bad for seasoned healers to panic.

And even though you can’t see, you feel the people’s righteous fury and sympathy for you like water. From the officers to your neighbors who watches from the sidelines parched and in need of some new gossip to talk about. You can already pinpoint their thoughts, their sadness, relief, worry at how such a young thing was already subjected to the cruelty of such a harsh world.

The human mind is truly such a wonder. People will determine who received the most injury, who is more sympathetic, unnecessary details that help them fuel their own beliefs. Twisting it to suit their own narratives. You can hear them talk words that will end up being printed by tomorrow’s newspaper. And that made you sneer in amusement inwardly.

Because they have never been so wrong than equate you to a pitiful little victim.

It was a good thing the old lady next door was fond of gossips. You made a show of yourself spilling your relationship problems acting all teary and vulnerable, not-so-subtly hinting that you may be in possible danger. So, when the crash and fight started you were sure they were the one who called the police on time.

The strangling part was seriously a last-minute plan, the blood loss making you all loopy and droopy. The police force has body cameras attached to them. Meaning that they have caught Deziree strangling a person on camera. A person who in addition, mutilated your legs you might need it amputated and end up a cripple for the rest of your life.

You shrug. You’re plenty resourceful. You can imagine the opportunity it presents.

Mutilation, strangulation, and the other deeds of Deziree will be revealed in the court. Even if they plead not guilty, the evidence will stack upon them one by one, drowning in proof that you orchestrated like an elaborate game of chess. There is such a thing we call as falsified truths.

Deziree will be hated, scrutinized, their entire being skinned and every part of him will be laid bare for others to see and judge.  You mentally calculate and figured they’re going to prison for 10 years give or take. 10 years of living in hell that you personally decorated.

You can taste their pain already. Their expression falling at the verdict of the judge. People cursing their name both inside and outside the bars. And even when they are alone, they’ll never be rid of you. Making sure that their thoughts will always be haunted by the image of you. You only you. What a pretty mental cage you put them in.

There was no regret or remorse as you allowed yourself to smile.

Not one of pleasure nor pain.

It is simply a smile of victory.

Deziree came close, but it’s not enough. They’ll have to become stronger, smarter, better. You needed a drive, you needed them to improve to beat the game you have designed. They might go to prison but you’re far too smart from thinking this is all over. They’ll come back, you know they would.

You inflicted just the right amount of pain for them to persevere. Not too much that they would give up and think that this is all pointless. Not too little that they won’t grow from this. Every factor of this event, taken into account into your pretty little head, all for what?

For an elaborate game of course.

A game that will not begin until later. But you don’t worry, after all patience is truly a virtue especially in this sense. Even though you’re already achingly awaiting the moment.

The cards are dealt, the stakes are ready, and the table is prepared for all the players that will be involved.

You’re already buzzing with excitement. You wonder what they will become. What kind of monster have you created? What kind of chaos and destruction will they bring? How much will be left of you when they’re done? Or will there be any left?

How you long to see it already.

Them in their full potential to end you.

Ah, see, you can be a romantic after all.

[bloodiedrogue]

SWEETER THAN DEATH

SUMMARY: The absorption of a curse has always been disgusting and lonely. Well, at least until Gojo showed up.

PAIRING: Geto Suguru & Gojo Satoru

WORD COUNT: 2,244

WARNINGS: Brief descriptions of vomiting, angst, Geto POV, my own silly headcanons about Geto's connection to curses. :)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi, I saw this headcanon and my JJK brain rot grew three sizes in the span of a minute, so I made this. Also, knowing me I'm probably going to get consumed by these two so if you want to be tagged in future JJK stuff just let me know!

MASTERLIST

-

The flavour is revolting. A combination of putrid acidity and rotten flesh —it’s the kind of taste that would churn even the strongest of stomachs, resulting in Geto himself struggling to suppress it. 

As he stands alongside Gojo, imagining the process of its inevitable digestion, he still can’t manage to do it in front of people. Fearing that they might judge his lack of composure each time he has to force the cursed sphere down, he merely pockets it instead. Muttering something along the lines of I’ll save it for when I’m hungry at the same time Gojo stretches his spine, acting none the wiser.

“What do they taste like anyway?” 

They taste like death, he wants to say, like a decomposed corpse that’s expelled its insides or a pile of vomit left out in the sun. Instead, though, he just shrugs and tells him they’re flavourless. An empty vessel that fills him up but fails to provide the enjoyment of actually eating a proper meal. 

An answer that Gojo thankfully accepts with a nod before moving on—both of them walking down the street as he starts yammering on about whatever topic of interest he’s deemed exciting enough to share. Forever failing to catch on to the fact that all Geto wants is some peace and quiet as they make their way back to campus. 

This time it’s movies. Specifically Western ones. None of which Geto has seen or has any interest in, considering all he can think about is the curse that rests against his palm. Specifically how it causes his skin to itch with need despite wanting nothing more than to toss it as far as he can so that he doesn’t have to experience it slipping down his throat. 

He’s still not entirely sure why it happens but after a curse has been exorcized it’s as if this connection forms inside his brain. One that requires him to swallow the damned thing as quickly as possible, assuming there’s some sort of time limit. As if he doesn't, something bad might happen. So much so that, even now, even though it’s only been a few minutes since he initially got rid of it, he can feel it calling out to him in the back of his mind. Begging for him to eat —screaming at him to absorb its contents until suddenly they find themselves in the heart of Kyoto. 

At which point Geto can hardly contain the temptation. Palming the sphere with tightened fingers, it’s as if he can feel the curse inside pressing against the outer walls. Its voice echoing overtop of whatever Gojo’s saying now. Forcing him to close his eyes and breathe as he digs his nails into his own flesh, forcing his hands to his sides rather than inside the pockets of his pants.

“It looks so good! We should definitely see it when it comes out!” Gojo practically yells —most likely still talking about movies, prompting Geto to press his lips into a false smile and nod. 

Something he does quite often these days thanks to the amount of missions they’ve been going on. 

“Do you have a favourite?”

In response, he blinks, trying to force himself to return to the conversation. To seem like he’s present and calm rather than bursting at the seams with fear. “Hm?”

“Movie, Suguru!” Gojo chastises, rolling his eyes at Geto’s lack of attention as he shoves his arm. “Weren’t you listening?”

“Course.” 

“Liar!”

This time Geto rolls his eyes. Unable to come up with a clever rebuttal thanks to the curse’s desire to be consumed as quickly as possible. 

“I swear, you’re always elsewhere.”

“What do you mean?” 

“That head of yours.” Before he can process what Gojo is doing he feels his index finger pressed against his forehead, pushing him backwards roughly. Forcing Geto to grunt at the impact before swatting away his hand. “It’s got you distracted.” 

“I’m not distracted.” 

“Then what’s my new favourite movie?” 

Again, Geto fails to come up with a response, resulting in the humiliated feeling of Gojo Satoru being right. A feeling so utterly embarrassing that for a moment he forgets that he should be excusing himself to feed. To give in to the pressure of the curse’s voice penetrating every corner of his mind. To force the rotting flavour down his throat so that he can once again feel nothing.

It takes a while, but eventually, when there’s a pause in Gojo’s one-sided conversation, he lies and says he has to go to the bathroom. Another excuse his friend accepts without question, pulling out his phone while Geto walks a block back before dipping into the nearest alleyway. Completely unaware of the shaking hands that pull the curse out of Geto’s pants pocket. 

EAT ME. EAAAT ME.

By the time he’s out of sight, the voice is borderline hysteric as it sits in his hand. Causing him to narrow his eyes in annoyance, almost immediately he raises the sphere to his mouth while clearing his throat, preparing the space with reluctant thoughts. Wishing just once he can find it in himself to consume without struggle. To taste without the urge to vomit. To feel, just this once, like his ability is more than just a fucking curse. 

Swallowing hard, he does his best to imagine something else in his mouth. Dorayaki, cheesecake —hell even those awful black sesame cookies his mom used to make when he was a kid. Anything to distract himself from the truth as he slips the curse between his lips, immediately gagging when the acrid taste first hits his tongue.

He isn’t sure why but every time feels worse than the last. As if the continual ingestion of these creatures is somehow rotting him from the inside out. Consuming his quality of life each time he’s forced to absorb it.

Which is ultimately an assumption he thinks about often. Considering that’s all he’s become lately, the idea that he’s been deemed as nothing more than some glorified maid being sent out to clean up messes really pisses him off. Especially because he knows that despite being an equal level to Gojo, the only reason he’s allowed to tag along is because everyone knows he’s a liability. A potential threat they might need to subdue in the future. 

Deep down, he knows he’s one wrong thought away from being subdued. After exorcising and absorbing over and over and over again, he can feel the madness slipping through. All the questions of whether or not it’s worth it to continue running rampant through his thoughts as he inevitably spits the curse out, heavily breathing through the rancid taste of failure yet again.

Under his breath, he swears and roughly grips the curse feeling his limbs begin to twitch —the angered voice returning before he can even think to suppress it. 

EATMEEATMEEATMEEATME!

And all he wants is to listen. To grant the voice it's wish so that he may get his. But at the back of his mind, all he can think about is death. How it lingers against his taste buds, filling every crevice of his mouth with the kind of flavour he’d hardly wish upon his worst enemy. How it causes his thoughts to shift to a world where curses no longer exist. A world where he can finally live and breathe and—

“Suguru?” 

He’s on his knees panting through the pain. Still gripping onto the sphere, instead of raised into the air it’s wedged between the concrete and his palm. Becoming more and more pressurized the longer Geto stares at Gojo’s frame, realizing he’s been had. That the illusion of his strength has been reduced to weakness in a matter of seconds. 

A fact that makes him wish the taste inside his mouth was real. That instead of death on his tongue there was instead death in his heart. In his stomach and his lungs —spreading throughout his system in a path that would eventually lead to nothing but darkness. 

Kneeling on the ground, he wishes he were dead instead of staring into the bluest eyes he’s ever seen, watching them narrow with worry. Seeing them twist and turn into shapes filled with panic and confusion and pity until they’re sitting directly in front of him. 

“What’s wrong?” 

For a while, he doesn’t respond. Instead, he only lowers his head and closes his eyes, allowing the breath of his lungs to filter through his tainted throat. Desperately attempting to coat it in a layer of something other than the leftover flavour of the curse until he’s able to look at Gojo, muttering out a pained bad. 

“Bad?”

He nods his head, watching Gojo glance around the alley. Paying no mind to the curse in his hand until eventually it clicks and all he can do is stare. Focusing on the way Geto’s fingers angrily grip the sphere. Most likely wondering why he’s spent all his time lying about something so trivial as taste. 

“I thought you said they don’t taste like anything.” 

Despite everything, all Geto does is laugh darkly, shaking his head. Trying to act as calmly as possible even though the curse's voice is fully ripping its way through his mind now. 

“Guess I really am a liar.”

“Do they always taste bad?” Gojo asks, reverting the subject to its original topic. Prompting Geto to wonder why he cares to question an answer that’s so obviously right in front of him in the first place. 

Because sure, Gojo’s always been a bit ignorant of these kinds of things, deeming himself too important not to be given exactly what he wants regardless of how easy it is. But he’s never acted like that with him. At least, not in such a personal way. Not in a way that could result in some sort of crossed boundary. 

So, it throws him off. As he looks back up, watching Gojo’s hand tentatively rise to cup his cheek. How his thumb shifts to stroke the highest point of his bone structure before brushing away the loose hairs that have fallen in front of his face. How somehow the tenderness of his touch feels like the most painful thing he’s ever experienced, unaware of whether his actions are the result of pity or not. 

Which is why he brushes him off. Throwing his arm in the way of his friend’s lingering hand, he can’t help but groan at the sudden lack of contact as he falls back. His back crashing against the brick wall behind him as he glares into Gojo’s eyes.

As it happens, Gojo jumps at the sudden movement but doesn’t do anything to stop it. Instead, merely allowing Geto to stir in his anger as he hugs the curse against his chest, trying not to cry. 

Because despite the strength he manages to exude each time he stands alongside Gojo, deep down he always feels this weak. As he blinks back tears, hearing the repetitive chant of the curse in his hands —feeling the madness it inflicts as Gojo inches a bit closer, telling him that he’s okay in such a contradictive way— all he can do is sit. And stare. Attempting to calm himself down as Gojo shoves a hand into his pocket, eventually producing a closed fist. 

“Here.” 

Almost immediately, Geto looks at him with confusion. The kind of look that results in Gojo scoffing in annoyance and opening his palm to reveal a piece of candy.

“Listen, I don’t know if it’ll help but—“

“I’m fine.” 

“Sure, okay… but maybe it’ll make it easier.” 

He wants to tell him that it won’t. That no matter how hard he tries to get rid of the taste that remains long after he’s consumed a curse, it’s always there. Sitting in the farthest corners of his body, waiting for their chance to become present once again. Waiting to make him feel disgusting and weak and—

“Stop being so prideful and take the damn candy, Suguru.”

Before he can deny him again Gojo grabs one of his hands and places it in the centre. Keeping it locked lightly around Geto’s wrist as the two of them continue to stare, wondering what the other’s thinking. Both of them trying to find the best way to go about this vulnerable moment they’ve just shared until Gojo lets him go.

At which point Geto feels that tinge of pain again. The one where he isn’t sure why his friend is doing this. Why, instead of chastising him for a weakness he’s repeatedly lied about, he’s offering support. Why he’s sitting there, allowing him to sift in the screams of this spherical curse for as long as he needs. 

“It gets worse every time,” he eventually tells him. Unable to hold back the way his voice breaks through each syllable. A sound that further paints just how weak he is at this moment as Gojo sighs. 

“What does it taste like?”

“Death.”

“Death?”

He nods just as Gojo starts to look around, eventually producing a small grin that leaves Geto confused all over again, watching him reach out to touch his head again. 

“Guess we’ll need to get you something sweeter then,” his friend suggests, and despite knowing that still probably won’t help, Geto merely nods again, feeling Gojo’s fingers ruffle roughly through his hair before he’s suddenly standing up and offering a hand Geto isn’t quite sure he deserves to hold. 

[tma-entity-song-poll]

Battle of the Fear Bands B2R5: The Corruption

Spiral of Ants:

“hnnrgrh ant time. Welcome to the ant hive mind!!!! Who are you? Lmao you’ve never been anyone before Ant Time, silly!! Sharing a collective consciousness with thousands of squirming critters!!!!!!! (also remember the ant exterminator guy episodes played by gunpowder Tim? yeah)”

Thermodynamic Lawyer:

““Disease is her primary language” - every line of this is filled with rot and disease and bugs and it’s 100% corruption.”

Lyrics below the line!

Spiral of Ants:

Over and over  The pheromones, the overwhelming harmony Consuming the colony The Circle rules your life Chop, chop! Don't want to be late Lift up and carry your weight You've got no choice but to dance in a spiral of ants True bugs might laugh in your face Don't fret, you're leading the race Don't let the bastards step on your hands in a spiral of ants You can't remember where you came from (In a spiral of ants) You can't remember where you're going (In a spiral of ants) You can't remember knowing You are one ant Over, it's over The pheromones, the self-avoiding odyssey Consuming the colony The Circle rules your life Now, now! Don't run out of breath Don't feel surrounded by death, no Take the wheel, this could be your chance, in a spiral of ants False bugs, you'll soon be alone See how they drop like a stone You're free now forever to dance in a spiral of ants Now you remember where you came from (From a spiral of ants) Now you remember where you're going (To a spiral of ants) You've got to keep it flowing You are one ant (Over, over, over) Over and over The pheromones, the overwhelming harmony Consuming the colony Creating its own gravity Before we knew it we became a hurricane And the bugs who laughed got blown away As we proclaimed: The Circle rules your life

Thermodynamic Lawyer Esq, G.F.D:

(I hold myself in contempt) Tearing the hair off a black baboon's skull Here's a bitch with some four-thousand names Vomiting lies through her theremin throat As some businessmen pick at her brains Pulls back skinny lips to reveal a proboscis Seems Seth Brindle's at it again Tears pages from spines as she judges the cover And shamelessly spoils the end Blood vessels drying and curling inside are Unfurling from out of her wrists Well, she wrings out a snake and collects all its poison Intending to learn it to hiss Foams at the mouth with a head full of acid And giving some poor illness the blame Knocking the pieces the fuck off the chessboard Insisting that she's won the game So all that I see absolute entropy As the chemical bonds fall apart Well, it seems she broke me But I swear she could not break my heart She could not break my heart, oh lord Makes up excuses for throbbing black bruises And uses them to her advantage Never came down from her last trip, oh Jesus Disease is her primary language Garbled and gruesome, her words so absurd Like a herd of transmissions from Apollo 13 No apology, I request misery So no rest 'til I've twisted her chest round my knee So squeal like a trolley wheel, cry like a baby With autism strapped to a ceiling fan Soil your visage with mucus and twisting of features unable to stand Buckle your knees looking up at me And beg me to spare thee the back of my hand For the sake of humanity, die of your blight We're blessed, you're barren as Mojave sands So all that I see absolute entropy As the chemical bonds fall apart Well, it seems she broke me But I swear she could not break my heart, whoa Now all that I see absolute entropy As the chemical bonds fall apart Well, it seems she broke me But I swear, she can go fucking die (kill yourself) You can go fucking die (kill yourself) Go fucking die (kill yourself) Kill yourself and go die

[stupidbullshitallday]

Could Logan's wine gag become plot relevant?

Listen people it's 2 am and my brain is word vomiting so even if this doesn't make a lot of sense please stay with me, good? Good

Alright so in "Working Through Intrusive Thoughts" also known as WTIT we see Remus showing Logan a notebook with his plans for today, Logan sighs and throws his coffee away replacing it with wine.

This is a one time gag at the time of release and i can tell it made a lot of us laugh, however, we see this happen again during the 5 year anniversary video where Logan starts saying he doesn't think they deserve it since during 5 years they have ammounted 9 hours on camera and drinks from a relatively normal glass.

Everytime he appears the wine glass keeps getting bigger but also more full. All of this scenes end with him taking a sip (more like implying he is drinking)

The one thing relating this two scenarios? Logan is putting up with something he doesn't want to, he understands why it's important in both cases but he doesn't really want to be there regardless. (Putting up with Remus and his shennanigans and the anniversary respectively)

With that stablished i would like to bring to the table how alcohol affects people's rational thinking, in this case everything that Logan embodies.

As we know alcohol allows for more emotional than logical actions the more it is consumed, in short it makes it harder for the brain to control things such as balance, speech and memory among other options but the part that interests me more is that alcohol interfers with the communication pathways of the brain causing all mentioned before.

This is interesting to me because sanders sides is a series all about communication, specially from Logan's part because if he isn't in his right senses to guide the conversation it can only evolve into chaos.

I would also like to point out that the first time we know of orange, the moment we see Logan "blinded" by rage is the same episode we see him drinking in.

A coincidence perhaps then again, Thomas loves his attention to detail which could mean the joke had some other porpouse or intention we as the viewer aren't aware of due to the lack of context.

All i'm saying is that the brain under the effect of alcohol more often than not tends to have negative outcomes, this could either play out to evolve more on Logan's character and his emotions as well as making an episode on unhealthy coping mechanisms or maybe both if we are lucky.

If anyone thinks they can add anything to this be my guest, goodnight fanders.

[azullumi]

IM SORRY THIS MAY BE A WEIRD QUESTION TO ASK BUT HOW DO YOU WRITE SO PRETTY? DO YOU HAVE SOME KINDA INSPIRATION? I SERIOUSLY WANT TO KNOW HOW TO WRITE LIKE YOU

hi nonnieee!! if you’re talking about my writing style which is pretty inconsistent at times, i kind of developed it from reading too many books and consuming so much poetries and poems (i wanted to be that one cool literate kid pls). and also, read the invisible life of addie larue pls its so so good i was devouring it, with my annotations and everything and the writing is so so prettyy that 3-years-ago me just wanted or DESIRED to write like that eughgh. but yeah, i don’t know if i exactly have an inspiration? i just vomit everything that comes to my mind. i often use metaphors—i actually abuse it—and also a sprinkle of whatever i think sounds pretty in my writing? and i kind of find the related words or something similar to something HGWHHWW I HOPE THAT WAS CLEAR

my main advice is to just read and write !! like just read and read and write and write,, i’ve been doing that before i was even a teen so yeah. don’t hesitate in getting those words out of your brain even if you think they sound silly jwhsha and be proud and confident in what you writeeeee

[jacksgreysays]

Dreaming of Sunshine x Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint brainstorm (2023-06-11)

I have been glutting myself on Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint fic/art (as I do whenever I jump into a new fandom) but of course (OF COURSE!!!) I have to pay the toll to my forever fandom, Dreaming of Sunshine, and figure out how I would adapt ORV into DoS (or vice versa) or at the very least… smash them together in my subconscious and see what forms… so here we go!

By dint of the way I Kirby-consumed ORV fanworks, I have been spoiled, but also because ORV is so strange I don’t know how much I’ve been spoiled so beware of 1) ORV spoilers but also 2) incorrect interpretations of ORV spoilers. I’ve only read the webtoon and hundreds of fanfic and looked at so much pretty art but not the OG webnovel so… you know… I don’t have all the pieces.

Anyway, for the DoS-ification of it. I have to admit that the most “direct” one-to-one would involve a heart rending, cosmic relationship between Shikako, Naruto, and Masashi Kishimoto himself which… no… no thank you… do not want.

But I cannot deny that this particular ORV fanart by @eileenwdj was so gripping and compelling, that it is a major inspiration for this DoSxORV fusion I’m about to word vomit into the world. In a similar vein, in order to avoid using literal Masashi Kishimoto, my brain went more for a Reacting to Sunshine by icashi vibe in that canon Naruto and DoS are parallel timelines/universes that can sort of view each other under very specific circumstances.

And those circumstances, much like eileenwdj’s art and my own preferences, is god/deity ascendancy nonsense :D

More specifically, taking a classic Naruto fic to it’s most extreme and most meta conclusion: It’s For A Good Cause, I Swear! by Sara1281 in which canon Team Seven gets access to a time travel jutsu and run around being OP and silly.

But because that fic was written/completed before the canon alien goddess/sage of the six paths reincarnation, if you push the premise to the extreme (and make it angsty) and also consider that even time looping badasses can’t compete against gods… unless… they also become gods…

All of the above bullshit combines into the real pitch of this fusion:

Canon Team Seven have looped so many times that they have become gods separate from their mortal forms. But even they are surprised when in the most recent loop they witness something new: Shikako Nara and the repercussions of her existence.

So in a way maybe it’s just a more pretentious version of Reacting to Sunshine where the people reacting to DoS are canon Team Seven who have become gods. More specifically they have become the three gods (maybe four, if we include Kakashi, but I’ll get to that at the end) that DoS includes: the Shinigami, Gelel, and Jashin.

To clarify, it’s not exactly like It’s For A Good Cause, I Swear! because more similar to ORV, the god versions of the characters can’t sync up/possess their mortal form versions. Doylian reason because if they could then it would just be three gods walking around in DoS thereby making Shikako’s influence insignificant and also preventing them from the premise of witnessing her existence making unique changes which is the whole premise of this fusion. The Watsonian reason could be something like the insane number of loops that canon Team Seven have done is so cosmically beyond mortal soul capacity that their god versions are kind of like the infinite digital cloud and their mortal forms are like the hardware devices that can only hold so much information. So at the beginning of every loop, before they’re born they can sort of imbue their mortal souls with a little bit of direction (how much that direction will hold as they grow up is iffy) but enough to make each loop different. Then, they can make more changes as gods directly when they are—as gods—summoned into the world.

Such as in the most recent loop, aka DoS, where the Shinigami does the deal with Minato faster to the point that Shikamaru’s twin sister doesn’t die from Kyuubi chakra exposure and, in fact, lives long enough and well enough to go to the Academy.

And then it’s just god versions of Naruto, Sakura, and Sasuke being absolutely bewildered by this new presence in the world who is entirely mortal but somehow navigating the obstacles as if she had cosmic knowledge of her own: as in the case with Kim Dokja, the titular Omniscient Reader of ORV

Now let’s get into my silly headcanon for which god is which. From the order of the names, maybe you can tell, but it’s Naruto as the Shinigami, Sakura as Gelel, and Sasuke as Jashin. Here’s my reasoning for this:

Obviously Naruto has the most canon connection to the Shinigami, what with it being summoned on the day of his birth and also the relationship that the Uzumaki had with the Shinigami (at least via the mask that can summon it.) And at first I thought it would be ironic that the shinobi most against killing would be the Shinigami. But then I realized, technically the Shinigami also doesn’t kill anyone in canon? Because it’s the mortal summoners who do the killing, sacrificing someone to get the Shinigami’s attention. And then they ask the Shinigami to do something weird but not kill: ie, split the Kyuubi in half, or seal away Orochimaru’s arms, or raise the dead as obedient zombie soldiers (I’ll be honest, I still haven’t read Shippuden, and at this point I don’t think I ever will.) So, un-ironically, Naruto IS the most like the god of death.

Then there’s Sakura. Which, in the canon Stones of Gelel movie, she was on that mission so there is that. But in a more abstract, meta sort of way… it feels like Sakura in fanfiction is… a different iteration every time, even more so than Naruto and Sasuke whose backstories are so critical to their characters. Because she’s a blank slate background, she can be all sorts of different heritage. Because she has that Inner Sakura early on, she can have that secondary soul or mind be pushing her in different directions. Because she is so flat out intelligent, she can figure out so many different techniques that would otherwise be outside her purview (here’s looking at that Sakura should have been able to reverse engineer, if not Mokuton since that’s a bloodline/elemental chakra affinity, then Wood Release jutsu as a combination of her canonical Earth and Water affinities). Anyway, Gelel being itself a conglomeration of human ingenuity and determination combined with it’s extreme earth and death/life affinities is very in tune with what I imagine a god Sakura would become.

And finally Sasuke. Ooooh boy. While I know there’s so many Sharingan deities to choose from, I would very much like to make the DoS god trio work so this one is admittedly the biggest stretch for sure. But I have my Watsonian reasons, elaborate as they are. First we have to remember that the god version of Sasuke isn’t DoS Sasuke, but an infinite number of iterations of canon Sasuke. So no Shikako at all. And while I’d like to think that even canon Sasuke can learn from his mistakes given enough loops, he’s still kind of a disaster with no clear, consistent, internal moral compass whose modus operandi is to do violence first and then ask questions later. Also, of the three, I think Sasuke would take the time loop situation the worst? Admittedly, part of this is because his “stations of canon” are the also the worst—while Naruto’s backstory is also tragic, a lot of his original angst is from not knowing who his parents were and also not being told flat out that he was loved. But with the loops, he’s going in with the knowledge that his parents loved him, that his teammates love him, that eventually he will find precious people who will consider him precious in turn. Hooray.

For Sasuke, his loops are a constant cycle of: you have a family, you are loved, they are killed, you are only seven years old when this happened and so you are unlikely to be able to do anything even with the digital cloud of godliness trying to steer you at the beginning. Like. Even with godly knowledge, a seven year old is a seven year old, he’s not going to be able to change much. But it’s that’s possibility of change that will make it so much worse. Like, maybe this time they’ll believe me. Or maybe this time I’ll be fast enough. Or maybe this time I can divert it.

Given the whole premise of Tsukuyomi, it’s literally torture.

So, okay, understandable. God Sasuke is not a happy god. Pushed to the extreme, it’s not too hard to imagine that god Sasuke just wants to end it all. He’s being cosmically tortured for seemingly no reason and he just wants to end the loops or, at least, destroy the world because at least then he doesn’t have to put up with infinite failures compounding on each other again and again and again. Hence, Sasuke is Jashin.

So we have our three DoS gods as time looping, cosmic cloud data versions of canon Team Seven. This just so happens to be a loop in which Naruto/Shinigami enacts the deal with Minato fast enough to prevent “canon Shikako’s” death by Kyuubi chakra exposure. They’re observing the events of DoS with fascination because this is the first true Anomaly they’ve seen in hundreds/thousands of loops and whatever she’s doing is definitely new. Yes there are still certain stations of canon events that she can’t stop from her position, but there are others that they didn’t even think would have such repercussions.

Of course, as I’ve said before, this fic I’m not writing would kinda just be a hyper niche version of Reacting to Sunshine with the god versions of canon Team Seven occasionally dipping into first person POV as they respectively interact with DoS directly by being summoned as gods.

And I definitely would want to get into how Sakura/Gelel was so immediately welcoming of Shikako because they are friends, a version of them, at least, and schroedinger’s teammates, and Sakura knows what it’s like to be a smart girl overwhelmed and desperate to keep up with boys chosen by fate. And maybe also Sakura realizes that this Anomaly may very well be what can save them, so she’ll take Shikako under her wing for a bit—a few loops, just to get this burgeoning god started—and then maybe together they can figure a way out of it. (And maybe a version of this could reference The Many Gardens of Shikabane-hime in a meta sort of way) Until Shikamaru, of course, fights a god for his sister, and Sakura acquiesces. She can be patient. She has nothing but time.

Whereas, the Hot Springs Incident is Sasuke/Jashin being sick of what he considers a false hope. Because he’s watching this Anomaly make so much change in his mortal incarnation that he doesn’t trust it. Because not only is his mortal incarnation not tortured, not a traitor, not power hungry and bitter and full of vengeance… but he’s happy, maybe, fulfilled? And… that’s… Sasuke/Jashin in all the loops never felt that. Sometimes he’d be fond of his canon teammates—both Team Seven and Team Taka—sometimes he’d be grudgingly satisfied by the choices he’d make, or pleased with his growth in power. But never… happy. Never content in Konoha.

And so Sasuke/Jashin NEEDS to destroy this Anomaly, this little god, because she’s essentially proving that he’s been wasting his loops, and that so much of his suffering was his fault. But if he can kill her now and return the mortal Sasuke back to the role of avenger, then it proves that he was right the whole time.

And Naruto/Shinigami is just watching everything go down like a perfectly executed prank, waiting for when he, too, can meet the Anomaly directly.

(I had some loose idea of Kakashi sort of also being a god, but only sometimes, because he only sometimes looped. And how he is the “Thunder God” of both Sword of the Thunder God/lightsaber and The Flying Thunder God/Hiraishin fame. So since he’s weaker as a god, he can’t really be summoned physically the same way the other three can, but can lend his strength to the sword or the hiraishin kunai because it invokes his power. And obviously because he has a soft spot for Minato. And maybe he’s related to Tobirama? I don’t know. Either way, he’s more than happy to help out the Anomaly as her lightsaber)

Anyway, if you read this far, thanks! And honestly, check out ORV. It's WILD

[this-strange-obsession]

Okay, hot take for my how I’m hoping TGS Jekyll/Hyde’s reveal goes down, if it ever does. Also it’s going to be a long rant that becomes more like word vomit as I go, so preemptive apologies. Strap in.

So, we all know that Frankenstein loves to shit on Jekyll, right? What if when Hyde and Jekyll are revealed to be the same person, Frankie is the first to find out? I feel like most people are wanting Lanyon to be the first to know, and obviously that’d be super interesting to see how he reacts, but for me, it doesn’t feel right. Obviously, I think the boys are really cute, but- and I know I’m going to get hellfire for this one- but I don’t feel like their relationship is as developed as Jekyll’s and Frankenstein’s. This isn’t exactly a critique of the story, I’m actually glad it’s written this way. Henry’s whole problem is that he puts on a big facade, including with Lanyon. I think a lot of it has to do with the amount of respect he holds for him, so he’s afraid of how Lanyon might perceive him if ever he lets that mask slip.

With Frankie, on the other hand, Jekyll respects her somewhat, but mostly gets irritated by her. And we have seen in any instance where they talk one-on-one, Jekyll relaxes his guard, because it doesn’t matter as much to him what she thinks, seeing as she’s made it VERY clear that she sees right through him. That she sees him as a fake puppet to high society, so why would there be any point in continuing to act like a saint?

That being said, the moment Frankenstein first woke up, I was right there with Hyde. I knew I was going to love her character, and was already predicting a sort of tough-love relationship they’d develop. Where Frankie won’t ever fully like Jekyll, but she’ll tolerate, and even occasionally become impressed by him.

There are a lot of complex feelings I think Jekyll has towards her. Obviously, the whole “vying for approval” thing is partly residual from her being his childhood idol and reason for pursuing alchemy and rogue science. I also think it comes from a place of respect. I know I JUST said he doesn’t respect her all too much, but the kind of respect I’m talking about here is different from the surface-level kind. He hates that she sees through him, but it’s also very admirable and refreshing to be talked to normally, seeing as he has to be perfect with everybody else. So it has also kind of developed, oddly enough, into a sort of trust.

So what’s my point? How does any of this relate to the reveal? Well, not only would it be satisfying to see Frankenstein proved wrong once again by Jekyll, but it would make the most sense for the story to use one of it’s famous parallels to show that Jekyll is in dire need of help, and Frankie is his last resort, because he’d rather die than need her help, but he doesn’t have a choice. So I imagine there’s some sort of scenario where the transformations are all out of wack, or in some way, shape, or form, he physically cannot brew himself a potion to change back. I honestly can see it either way, but feel like it’d actually be Hyde in the driver’s seat oh-so begrudgingly asking Frankie to make him his potion.

There are a ton of different reasons why this could happen. One of the biggest ones, and why Hyde would be the one in control, is that- Hyde being Hyde, he fucked up big time, and with Jekyll being their brain’s manager in a sense, he doesn’t logically know how to fix it. Like maybe he forced Jekyll out of the way, and down through their library to the bottom floor. Jekyll starts to become consumed by his mind and kind of disappearing, which is taking a massive toll on their body as well as their cognitive ability. Hyde starts becoming more and more paranoid, is unable to recall a lot of things like the formula for the potion, and his body is shutting down, so he has a hard time moving his hands and feet anyway. He is terrified and so he crawls to Frankenstein begging for help. She laughs at him for a second, then realizes he’s being completely serious. There’s the obvious shock factor of “Mr. Hyde and Dr. Jekyll are the same person?!” And then she still can’t believe it when the potion jettisons Jekyll back out into his physical form. Also it would be absolutely horrific, because he’d of course be screaming the entire time in absolute agony, worse than when he normally takes the potions. Because this time he’s fighting to come back, and it’s like a shock from a defibrillator it’s so sudden. When he comes to, he’s still lost and spacey, so he’s looking around his office that’s in disarray and then at Frankenstein, and he’s wondering what in the blazes just happened. Then it comes flooding back to him- the fear, the confusion, the pain. It comes back so strong that he feels faint, and starts to pass out, but Frankie catches him and is like “oh no you don’t, you dumbass.” He starts to sob, exhausted and afraid of what this reveal means for him. And, somewhere, in the far corner of his mind, relief that he doesn’t have to hide anymore.

And there’s the whole fascination that comes after this where she demands he explains everything, calling him a complete idiot the whole time. And afterwards they have a heart-to-heart and she finally opens up about Elizabeth and they find solidarity in how they’ve messed up their whole lives. Possibly even her telling Jekyll he’s still got time to fix everything, and warning him about becoming like her- old and bitter because she chose science over everything, and everyone else..

Anyway, that’s my hc for how it should work. I kind of want to actually write the scenario in full, but idk if a. anyone would want to actually read that garbage, or b. it would even be decent seeing as I haven’t written anything for years, I just really like this hc and want it to be a thing, fanon or not.

[shiorimakibawrites]

Silence of the Mind (Castlevania Fic)

Inspective character one-shots about the said characters tragic backstory and/or current terrible situation seems to be the only type of pure angst I can actually write.

Anything longer and my brain started thinking of ways to make the character's life start sucking less.

This story was written in 2018 and is based on the Castlevania series (2017 - 2021), not the games. It has been posted on AO3 for several years but since it is a one-shot and my only fic in this fandom, it seemed like a good place to start importing the fics that are only on AO3 over here.

But fair warning, this is one of the darkest things I've ever written.

Shiori's Fan Fic Masterlist

Word Count: 861

Summary: All Trevor Belmont wanted was silence of the mind.

Warnings: Referenced murder, referenced murder of children, referenced torture, grief / mourning, survivor's guilt, PTSD, alcoholism and other unhealthy coping methods, anger, revenge fantasies, hurt no comfort

Silence of the Mind

All Trevor Belmont wanted was silence of the mind.

A time when he didn't hear the screams. A time when he could forget exactly what it sounded like when his brothers and sisters' screams went from terrified pleading to shrieks of agony. Could forget the roar and crackle of the fire that consumed his home, his family, their servants. Could forget when the screaming stopped and the only noise was the fire and the jeering mob that started it.

He wanted to forget the sight, pretend like that the blaze of yellow, white, and blue wasn't burned into his mind like a brand. Pretend he hadn't caught a glimpse of someone – possibly his mother or one of his sisters or maybe even one of the servants – wreathed in flames, mouth open in a scream, body contorting in a twisted parody of a dance. Wished he could forget the faces of the mob that burned them. Those smug, pleased faces, so happy to watch people being burned alive. So happy to watch him cry, scream himself hoarse, and beg them not to do this.

So happy to inform him that once his family was dead, he was next. He could still hear the plans being made for his execution. They hadn't made up their minds before he had gotten away from them but all were in favor of something just as torturous and slow as the fire that killed his family. Not fire. They had seen fire. Him, they would see bleed.

He wished he could forget the smell. The stench of the smoke – sometimes even just a whiff of someone else's or his own fire was enough to fill his sleep with the roar of flames and agonized screams. Or the equally terrible stench of burning flesh. He has lost track of the number of times that someone simply cooking meat has made him vomit when the present smell shifted into the past smell.

He wanted time where he didn't hurt. When he didn't feel like someone had ripped chunks out of his heart and soul. Time when he could remember his father, his mother, his sisters, his brothers, the servants without also remembering their screams. Time when he didn't wish he had been home that terrible day so he could have died with them. Time when he didn't curse his own survival instincts and the trained martial prowess that allowed him to get away from his would-be murderers.

He wanted time when he didn't seethe with rage. Rage that wanted the entire world to burn, to hurt as badly as he did. Rage that wanted to hunt down his family's killers and see how they liked watching everyone they loved die. And not die cleanly either. In his darkest and most rage filled moments, he wanted those deaths to be as agonizing as the one they sentenced his family to. He wanted them to know what it was like to beg for the lives of their loved ones only to have that pleading cruelly ignored.

Fighting helped, especially fighting monsters. Monsters required more concentration and focus for him to beat than men. So much so that his mind couldn't focus on anything else. He could simply live in that moment. And he was allowed to kill monsters. It felt nice to be able to vent his fury, his pain on something.

But fighting wasn't enough. He never had trouble finding monsters to hunt, even when he wasn't looking for them. He also had regular encounters with thieves and murderers as well as the drunk and belligerent. But not regularly enough to keep his mind silent of the screams.

Alcohol could drown out the screams. It numbed the pain, muted the rage. Provided he got drunk enough. Which he couldn't always. The Belmont tolerance for alcohol was nearly as legendary as their battle prowess. Trevor had discovered he was no exception. It took either a lot or very strong alcohol to get him more than tipsy. Which often cost more coin than he was willing to spend.

Fortunately, he didn't always have to get completely drunk to get the silence he craved. He just needed to drink enough that either the tavern patrons decided to pick a fight with him or whatever monster was infesting this particular village decided he would be easy prey. Or he decided to pick a fight with something or someone.

He tried not to do the last one very often. Partially drunk him thought wrestling a werewolf was a good idea. It was not a good idea. He had won but he had also gotten pretty chewed up. Good thing Father's promise that as a Belmont, Trevor was immune to such curses, proved to be true. He didn't know why. It was something that Father was going to explain when he was older. Maybe he planned to explain it when Trevor returned from his first solo hunting mission.

'Except by the time I returned from that mission, Father was dead or dying,' Trevor thought. He grimaced and signaled for another drink. He had clearly not drunk enough if thoughts like that were parading around his head.

[chirpthingz]

Hello! Since you're an Ordem Paranormal fan along with qsmp I was just wondering: what is the lore behind the flower that one of Bagi's characters has? Bc I've seen ppl mention before how the flower on her mc skin is a reference to that and I was just curious

HELLO!!! The flower is a reference to a character named Barbara, who was played by Bagi in one of the ordem paranormal spin-offs, O Segredo na Ilha (the secret on the island). She is usually associated with flowers because she was a gardener, namely helping maintain the garden of a missing painter’s mansion.

Other references to OSNI will usually be associated with islands/oceans, weird paintings or specifically melted paint, or the tolling of a bell and its towers. However, I don’t believe Bagi has made any of these other references!

Now I can summarize her story (with spoilers, so tread lightly), but I’ll also leave the link for the wiki page if you want a more thorough read: https://ordemparanormal.fandom.com/wiki/B%C3%A1rbara_Lima?so=search#O_Segredo_na_Ilha

OSNI SPOILERS BELOW!

Barbara was a resident of Tipora island alongside her best friend Miguel (who was played by her partner, Matt) and was essentially the gardener of the island. She lived there her whole life with her mother, who wasn’t a great person, and generally had a peaceful life until Miguel’s 10th birthday, where he “disappeared” and his body was taken possession of by his imaginary friend/brother Milo. This deeply shook Barbara, but she kept the secret from an oblivious Milo who believed that Miguel was his missing brother.

Life continues on until the arrival of the Florence family and particularly Amelie and Oliver Florence (played by Beamon and Goularte respectively) who have come to stay in the mansion with the garden Barbara has been maintaining, which she has also never been allowed in because her mother forbid it. Their presence in the mansion, coupled with the… actions of some of the other island residents, triggers a series of paranormal events.

She and her friends (plus a man named Wanderly, played by Rakin) are thrown into the middle of all of this and have to figure out what’s going on before something terrible happens. Ultimately, a creature is summoned that kills a majority of the residents and with them Barbara, but it is ultimately defeated.

Sorry for the word vomit, but ordem paranormal has very rapidly consumed my brain and I will very happily take any chance to go insane about it! Let me know if this helps, I’ll probably see how incomprehensible it is later lmaoo.

[nerves-nebula]

Sorry for the uh. Incoming word vomit.

I think your au has rotted my brain a tiny little bit. While i was reorganizing my closet yesterday (which also included taking the doors off) literally all i could think about was write neglected fic in german you know you want to you know you could do some things there you know you should write neglected fanfiction and integrate all these phrases popping into your head. No we’re not letting you work on any of your other stuff but how about you write neglected - and on and on and on. All this from like. One pm to midnight when i finally went to sleep after all. I am very surprised i didn‘t dream about it (because i think that may have happened before! I sometimes get moments of my brain not remembering the annoying noise waking me up is my alarm on my phone and instead making up wild shit it is instead. Like i remember hearing that noise and Just being like, oh shit, the lesbian horse commune! I have literally no idea what this meant, but anyway one of those turned into a weird thing where i thought it was a timer and i remember the thought “it’s fine, they’re just teen boys, they just need therapy quickly” (or something along those lines. Just much less coherent) and i am reasonably certain that was about that just from what i remember from my dream beforehand) and yeah. Successfully infected me :D

this is hilarious, thanks for sharing with me hah. sometimes this is what its like with me too, i'll wake up and go to class and all i wanna do is draw my damn turtles.

the lesbian horse commune!

man, I'm always saying this tbh. I get it.

also if you wrote a fic i would read it, even if i had to put it through google translate or something i WILL consume fanart/fic like my life depends on it.

[hlizr50]

hello again!

just wanted to pop in here and say that Earned, Not Taken has consumed all of my brain cells 🥰🥰 they was you write ruhnlidia is genuinely the best thing ever i can’t get enough of it!! also, i just re-read Verzavar Haz for the 3rd time and i swear i am incapable of becoming tired of it!! i really hope you do a little part 2 someday with their baby and lidias pregnancy journey!! their relationship is just so precious to me AHHH.

Anyways, sorry for the word vomit, i love your writing keep up the incredible work!!

💜

Wow I'm totally blown away and so humbled that you love it so much! I love it a lot, and I'm so glad you do, too.

I'm also starting to see why my hit count keeps growing lolol

I love these two characters and there are many more plans for them, including a collab with @headcanonheadcase

For Vérzavar Ház specifically, I don't have a part 2 planned, but I DO have some bonus chapters plan. So keep an eye out, maybe later this year ;)

[iwriteasfotini]

This was really fun to read! I related to a lot of it even though I have limited writing experience, I am working on my first big project and it's been fun and educational. The bit about if a scene is boring to write it will be boring to read definitely resonated with me. Sometimes I find a scene boring only because it's not AS exciting as a scene I am working towards, but I'd hate to reread a chapter and say to myself, "well that was dull."

And I think the advice to not write linearly is so important. I'm doing most of my writing linearly right now but I'm super inspired to work in this way. I have also written the occasional future scene because I get totally hung up on it, literally can't think about anything else. And then I just have to word vomit it out.

I have no qualms with rereading my own writing right now, thankfully. And I'm refraining from posting until I feel like the work is in a finished place. I don't like pressure, so a posting schedule with a WIP to me is just a source of severe anxiety and likely writers block. Plus I like to be able to make changes. But I also feel waiting to post is testing my patience as I'm excited about the story but have to wait to share it.

I think being in a writing block (a span of time when you are trying to get a lot of writing done, not to be confused with 'writers block') means staying off social as much as possible and consuming very little media. For me it's all about time; I don't have time to do it all. If I'm writing, I can't spend hours reading or online because then I don't have any time to write.

I started writing my fic because I've always wanted to be a writer, and I realized I was never going to get better at doing it if I didn't WRITE! So I'm working on a fanfic to both get my story idea out but also to just write a lot of words. The more words you write, the better your writing will be.

Finding long chunks of time to work can also be really helpful. It takes me roughly four hours to write the first draft of a chapter. And it takes me about 30 minutes to get flowing with my writing. I strive for four hour chunks of time, but I can do a lot in three as well. An hour though, not even worth it anymore. Instead I'll reread or edit or something that I can pick up and put down faster.

And the comment about not outlining. Cheers to that! My outlines consist of a list of a few chapter titles ideas and sometimes I just brain dump in a long form format. Honestly I rarely ever go back and reread those brain dumps. And sometimes I do and think, "well I took that plotline in a totally different direction than I envisioned."

Personally I cannot write lying down. But I do often put on my special screen glasses, even though I don't wear glasses, because they just get me in the writing mood. I also listen to music, which I could also argue against, but I have some specific playlists built and it's mood music. It helps me not get distracted by my environment and tells my family members to try not to interrupt me while I'm working.

The last thing I'll say is there is a big difference between telling yourself "I can't" and thinking "well maybe I'll try..."

How I learned to write smarter, not harder

(aka, how to write when you're hella ADHD lol)

A reader commented on my current long fic asking how I write so well. I replied with an essay of my honestly pretty non-standard writing advice (that they probably didn't actually want lol) Now I'm gonna share it with you guys and hopefully there's a few of you out there who will benefit from my past mistakes and find some useful advice in here. XD Since I started doing this stuff, which are all pretty easy changes to absorb into your process if you want to try them, I now almost never get writer's block.

The text of the original reply is indented, and I've added some additional commentary to expand upon and clarify some of the concepts.

As for writing well, I usually attribute it to the fact that I spent roughly four years in my late teens/early 20s writing text roleplay with a friend for hours every single day. Aside from the constant practice that provided, having a live audience immediately reacting to everything I wrote made me think a lot about how to make as many sentences as possible have maximum impact so that I could get that kind of fun reaction. (Which is another reason why comments like yours are so valuable to fanfic writers! <3) The other factors that have improved my writing are thus: 1. Writing nonlinearly. I used to write a whole story in order, from the first sentence onward. If there was a part I was excited to write, I slogged through everything to get there, thinking that it would be my reward once I finished everything that led up to that. It never worked. XD It was miserable. By the time I got to the part I wanted to write, I had beaten the scene to death in my head imagining all the ways I could write it, and it a) no longer interested me and b) could not live up to my expectations because I couldn't remember all my ideas I'd had for writing it. The scene came out mediocre and so did everything leading up to it. Since then, I learned through working on VN writing (I co-own a game studio and we have some visual novels that I write for) that I don't have to write linearly. If I'm inspired to write a scene, I just write it immediately. It usually comes out pretty good even in a first draft! But then I also have it for if I get more ideas for that scene later, and I can just edit them in. The scenes come out MUCH stronger because of this. And you know what else I discovered? Those scenes I slogged through before weren't scenes I had no inspiration for, I just didn't have any inspiration for them in that moment! I can't tell you how many times there was a scene I had no interest in writing, and then a week later I'd get struck by the perfect inspiration for it! Those are scenes I would have done a very mediocre job on, and now they can be some of the most powerful scenes because I gave them time to marinate. Inspiration isn't always linear, so writing doesn't have to be either!

Some people are the type that joyfully write linearly. I have a friend like this--she picks up the characters and just continues playing out the next scene. Her story progresses through the entire day-by-day lives of the characters; it never timeskips more than a few hours. She started writing and posting just eight months ago, she's about an eighth of the way through her planned fic timeline, and the content she has so far posted to AO3 for it is already 450,000 words long. But most of us are normal humans. We're not, for the most part, wired to create linearly. We consume linearly, we experience linearly, so we assume we must also create linearly. But actually, a lot of us really suffer from trying to force ourselves to create this way, and we might not even realize it. If you're the kind of person who thinks you need to carrot-on-a-stick yourself into writing by saving the fun part for when you finally write everything that happens before it: Stop. You're probably not a linear writer. You're making yourself suffer for no reason and your writing is probably suffering for it. At least give nonlinear writing a try before you assume you can't write if you're not baiting or forcing yourself into it!! Remember: Writing is fun. You do this because it's fun, because it's your hobby. If you're miserable 80% of the time you're doing it, you're probably doing it wrong!

2. Rereading my own work. I used to hate reading my own work. I wouldn't even edit it usually. I would write it and slap it online and try not to look at it again. XD Writing nonlinearly forced me to start rereading because I needed to make sure scenes connected together naturally and it also made it easier to get into the headspace of the story to keep writing and fill in the blanks and get new inspiration. Doing this built the editing process into my writing process--I would read a scene to get back in the headspace, dislike what I had written, and just clean it up on the fly. I still never ever sit down to 'edit' my work. I just reread it to prep for writing and it ends up editing itself. Many many scenes in this fic I have read probably a dozen times or more! (And now, I can actually reread my own work for enjoyment!) Another thing I found from doing this that it became easy to see patterns and themes in my work and strengthen them. Foreshadowing became easy. Setting up for jokes or plot points became easy. I didn't have to plan out my story in advance or write an outline, because the scenes themselves because a sort of living outline on their own. (Yes, despite all the foreshadowing and recurring thematic elements and secret hidden meanings sprinkled throughout this story, it actually never had an outline or a plan for any of that. It's all a natural byproduct of writing nonlinearly and rereading.)

Unpopular writing opinion time: You don't need to make a detailed outline.

Some people thrive on having an outline and planning out every detail before they sit down to write. But I know for a lot of us, we don't know how to write an outline or how to use it once we've written it. The idea of making one is daunting, and the advice that it's the only way to write or beat writer's block is demoralizing. So let me explain how I approach "outlining" which isn't really outlining at all.

I write in a Notion table, where every scene is a separate table entry and the scene is written in the page inside that entry. I do this because it makes writing nonlinearly VASTLY more intuitive and straightforward than writing in a single document. (If you're familiar with Notion, this probably makes perfect sense to you. If you're not, imagine something a little like a more contained Google Sheets, but every row has a title cell that opens into a unique Google Doc when you click on it. And it's not as slow and clunky as the Google suite lol) When I sit down to begin a new fic idea, I make a quick entry in the table for every scene I already know I'll want or need, with the entries titled with a couple words or a sentence that describes what will be in that scene so I'll remember it later. Basically, it's the most absolute bare-bones skeleton of what I vaguely know will probably happen in the story.

Then I start writing, wherever I want in the list. As I write, ideas for new scenes and new connections and themes will emerge over time, and I'll just slot them in between the original entries wherever they naturally fit, rearranging as necessary, so that I won't forget about them later when I'm ready to write them. As an example, my current long fic started with a list of roughly 35 scenes that I knew I wanted or needed, for a fic that will probably be around 100k words (which I didn't know at the time haha). As of this writing, it has expanded to 129 scenes. And since I write them directly in the page entries for the table, the fic is actually its own outline, without any additional effort on my part. As I said in the comment reply--a living outline!

This also made it easier to let go of the notion that I had to write something exactly right the first time. (People always say you should do this, but how many of us do? It's harder than it sounds! I didn't want to commit to editing later! I didn't want to reread my work! XD) I know I'm going to edit it naturally anyway, so I can feel okay giving myself permission to just write it approximately right and I can fix it later. And what I found from that was that sometimes what I believed was kind of meh when I wrote it was actually totally fine when I read it later! Sometimes the internal critic is actually wrong. 3. Marinating in the headspace of the story. For the first two months I worked on [fic], I did not consume any media other than [fandom the fic is in]. I didn't watch, read, or play anything else. Not even mobile games. (And there wasn't really much fan content for [fandom] to consume either. Still isn't, really. XD) This basically forced me to treat writing my story as my only source of entertainment, and kept me from getting distracted or inspired to write other ideas and abandon this one.

As an aside, I don't think this is a necessary step for writing, but if you really want to be productive in a short burst, I do highly recommend going on a media consumption hiatus. Not forever, obviously! Consuming media is a valuable tool for new inspiration, and reading other's work (both good and bad, as long as you think critically to identify the differences!) is an invaluable resource for improving your writing.

When I write, I usually lay down, close my eyes, and play the scene I'm interested in writing in my head. I even take a ten-minute nap now and then during this process. (I find being in a state of partial drowsiness, but not outright sleepiness, makes writing easier and better. Sleep helps the brain process and make connections!) Then I roll over to the laptop next to me and type up whatever I felt like worked for the scene. This may mean I write half a sentence at a time between intervals of closed-eye-time XD

People always say if you're stuck, you need to outline.

What they actually mean by that (whether they realize it or not) is that if you're stuck, you need to brainstorm. You need to marinate. You don't need to plan what you're doing, you just need to give yourself time to think about it!

What's another framing for brainstorming for your fic? Fantasizing about it! Planning is work, but fantasizing isn't.

You're already fantasizing about it, right? That's why you're writing it. Just direct that effort toward the scenes you're trying to write next! Close your eyes, lay back, and fantasize what the characters do and how they react.

And then quickly note down your inspirations so you don't forget, haha.

And if a scene is so boring to you that even fantasizing about it sucks--it's probably a bad scene.

If it's boring to write, it's going to be boring to read. Ask yourself why you wanted that scene. Is it even necessary? Can you cut it? Can you replace it with a different scene that serves the same purpose but approaches the problem from a different angle? If you can't remove the troublesome scene, what can you change about it that would make it interesting or exciting for you to write?

And I can't write sitting up to save my damn life. It's like my brain just stops working if I have to sit in a chair and stare at a computer screen. I need to be able to lie down, even if I don't use it! Talking walks and swinging in a hammock are also fantastic places to get scene ideas worked out, because the rhythmic motion also helps our brain process. It's just a little harder to work on a laptop in those scenarios. XD

In conclusion: Writing nonlinearly is an amazing tool for kicking writer's block to the curb. There's almost always some scene you'll want to write. If there isn't, you need to re-read or marinate.

Or you need to use the bathroom, eat something, or sleep. XD Seriously, if you're that stuck, assess your current physical condition. You might just be unable to focus because you're uncomfortable and you haven't realized it yet.

Anyway! I hope that was helpful, or at least interesting! XD Sorry again for the text wall. (I think this is the longest comment reply I've ever written!)

And same to you guys on tumblr--I hope this was helpful or at least interesting. XD Reblogs appreciated if so! (Maybe it'll help someone else!)

[hogwartshotel]

word vomit about writing

Writing is the worst, we all know this.

My brain is really not very visual. Like I can visualize something if you tell me to, but most of the time, I am just simply not doing that. And so writing fanfiction based on a medium that I consumed visually, like Hazbin, is very difficult, and is probably a big part of the reason why this fic is also Harry Potter, despite my very complicated feelings about contributing to the Harry Potter fandom.

And it's also why I felt the need to create visual representations of the characters in this fic, despite my extremely limited skill in doing so. Because otherwise, I will not know what they look like, and in a fic that is based off a TV show, I really need to know the visual elements.

So I just want to give a huge amount of appreciation to all the fic writers in this and other TV/movie fandoms.

And also a huge amount of appreciation to all the comic and animatic creators for Hazbin, because I do not have those skills, and that type of art really resonates with the type of fan-made content I want to engage in for a TV show.