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gutwrenched · 3 years
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@undepth is just somewhere to goof around
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gutwrenched · 3 years
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i desperately want to write new characters so i’m making a new (voicetesting) blog :3c if there are themes you would like to see me explore + fcs you want to see used + connections you would like for your own characters, let me know. i am happy to accommodate
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gutwrenched · 3 years
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❛ there are rules you have to follow if you want to survive ❜ @chiyo [said while enjoying a bowl of soup]
sometimes it takes chiyo so long to react it's like she hadn't been listening at all. a beat passes; then another.  ‘ a lot of rules? ’ 
a question she knows the answer to. certainly, she's out of the woods when it comes to the conflict in her own life, but it was there, constant and smothering, for many years of her existence. empathy is easy, even for her, when met with such a phrase. it's more difficult for her to swallow that feeling, to let him go when he decides it's time, rather than bundle him up in soft blankets and give him the spare room.
the soup is what he accepts, so it's that which she forces herself to be content with, for now. it isn't the first time she's tried to keep a child away from the terrors that linger beyond the walls of her home; it's doubtful it will be the last.
‘ i will give you a thermos. does that break a rule? ’ 
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gutwrenched · 3 years
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starters  /  prompts taken from hieu minh nguyen’s work ,  not here .  feel free to change pronouns  /  tenses as necessary .
  ❛  it seems important to mention all the things that went wrong  ❜
  ❛  don’t ask if i’m a ghost  ❜
  ❛  i fled and did not return  ❜
  ❛  i cannot love you  ,  if i love you  ,  i will die  ❜
  ❛  for years i chose death  ❜
  ❛  i belong to my mother’s fear  ❜
  ❛  what do you do with tenderness when all you expect is fury ?  ❜
  ❛  he looks like he will keep you safe  ❜
  ❛  any love i find will be treason  ❜
  ❛  why did you bring me here ?  ❜
  ❛  i count the hornets that escape their mouths  ❜
  ❛  i only ask for your laughter  ❜
  ❛  look at me in the old way in this new light  ❜
  ❛  sometimes i wake up and my body does not follow  ❜
  ❛  it wasn’t the same without you  ❜
  ❛  i’m still trying to figure out what it means to stay  ❜
  ❛  it’s all very predictable  ❜
  ❛  how can i love something that isn’t ruined ?  ❜
  ❛  like all agony  ,  there are pleasant moments  ❜
  ❛  i want to be better at lying  ❜
  ❛  i’m afraid if i say it out loud i will cast a curse  ❜
  ❛  some men don’t know they’re hungry until they eat  ❜
  ❛  some spells take years to cast  ❜
  ❛  there are rules you have to follow if you want to survive  ❜
  ❛  i know you’re not supposed to smile back  ❜
  ❛  madness  ,  too  ,  can be cumulative  ❜
  ❛  trying to forget is not the same as leaving  ❜
  ❛  i really should get a sense of humor  ❜
  ❛  i understand no one  ❜
  ❛  i cannot stop him from disappearing  ❜
  ❛  her body was a dress i hung for motivation  ❜
  ❛  you were once and perhaps continue to be the myth you tell to scare yourself  ❜
  ❛  there are countless ways to justify company  ❜
  ❛  you are predictable in your longing  ❜
  ❛  i don’t want to explain a thing  ❜
  ❛  i knew if i just asked him to leave he would have  ❜
  ❛  there are countless ways to open a carcass  ❜
  ❛  all i’ve ever wanted to be was useful  ❜
  ❛  there’s still time to be saved  ❜
  ❛  shut up  ;  i know the story  ,  or at least the lesson  ❜
  ❛  you wont find it  ;  you won’t find whatever you’re looking for  ❜
  ❛  i could get away with being clumsy with knives  ❜
  ❛  i want to study the mechanics of leaving  ❜
  ❛  any adjective can be true if you cry hard enough  ❜
  ❛  i see little futures in the distance but none belong  ❜
  ❛  i am beginning to forget what i expect from the world i always knew  ❜
  ❛  you can’t think of regret as a town you move too when grief snores too loud  ❜
  ❛  in death we belong to everyone  ❜
  ❛  i want to return to my old body  ❜
  ❛  i think the life i want is the life i have  ,  but how can i be sure ?  ❜
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gutwrenched · 3 years
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litcherally love @gutwrenched and their super incisive mind/writing/all the things. dana's an all-around joy to chat/plot/write with.
@gutwrenched
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gutwrenched · 3 years
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@undevise if ya want
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gutwrenched · 3 years
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casarosa​:
@gutwrenched 
the food industry is a day-to-day gamble. milagros never knows what the customers will look like when she clocks in for a shift at mo’s ; never knows how many of them will break her balls just because someone else made them feel powerless somewhere in the slog of their own routine. unfortunately, this turns out to be one of the harder evenings, and by the end of it she’s on edge. enough so that she offers another waitress — jack is her name — a ride home, more for her own sanity than her coworker’s.
rain is coming down in sheets by the time milagros tears out of the parking lot with jack in tow. bob seger is blasting from the car’s cheap stereo system, and from the way they’re jiggling, you’d guess the dice hanging from the mirror were dancing to the music. for a moment that’s the extent of the activity in the vehicle : milagros is silent, one hand gripping the wheel and the other providing an acrylic nail for her to nibble on. eventually, though, she makes an effort to break through the tension that’s spilled over from her shift.
❛ you ever been to florida ? they got sunshine year round. not like this dump. ❜
she would’ve been happy sitting in silence a little longer; the whole drive, if she had the option. the music is a blessing and a curse --- mostly the latter. the volume is overstimulating enough that it keeps her mind from other things:  thunder, lightning, the slippery surface the car now skates over as it moves through the city, the godawful customer she had right before the end of her shift. she struggles to listen to what the man is singing about.
‘ what? ’  interrupted, blinking herself back to reality.  ‘ oh. no. ’
it’s of no great surprise that she hasn’t been anywhere. doesn’t want to go anywhere, now that she’s found somewhere safe and stable. even the job isn’t so bad. usually.  ‘ you don’t like the rain? ’
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gutwrenched · 3 years
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   the dogs circle one another, tangling their leads and dragging eden’s arm down with them. they lurch, catching themself as they’re knocked off balance. they’re tired, too exhausted to hold steady, so they drop the lead and kick it up again with their foot. the dog isn’t rough, but he’s only a puppy, overly excited just to have company.
the smoke from their cigarette catches in the wind as they speak,
‘ she’s only little, woz. go easy. ’  /  @errorware​
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gutwrenched · 3 years
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   ‘ he won’t bite hard, see, ’  they reach down to the dog, who chews on their fingers as soon as they’re within reach. they grab one of the chew toys they’d brought down from the apartment.  it’s about the size of their hand, blue and vaguely bone-shaped, riddled with teeth marks. he tries to take it out of their grasp, wrestling them for it.  ‘ he’s still a baby, he’s just gotta grow out of it. ’  /  @soulmissed
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gutwrenched · 3 years
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      ‘ it’s kind of --- maybe it’s too much. ’  the gift took an impressive show of strength just to get from the car into bonnie’s home.  it’s large and vaguely triangular, almost as tall as them, wrapped in brown paper and tied together with twine.  ‘ i’ll carry it upstairs for you. or wherever. ’   /   @transforms
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gutwrenched · 3 years
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   ‘ i don’t know, but i don’t like it. ’  they peer at the old, shiny coin in the palm of his hand --- noticeably, perhaps, they haven’t reached out for it themselves. it might be worth something to a collector or an antiquer, but eden doesn’t even like having looked at it for so long.  ‘ evidence or not, it’s bad. toss it. ’  /  @compendious
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gutwrenched · 3 years
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    ‘ i don’t know anything, ’  an easy lie, but a lie nonetheless. it isn’t so difficult to disguise anxiety as irritation. they keep their cup of coffee close, letting it warm their hands through the mug. they’re still drying off, trying to warm up. rain buckets down just outside the window of the little diner they’ve hidden away in; their hair’s still a little damp, curls already beginning to spring back. ‘ sometimes a coincidence is just a coincidence. ’  /  @halbermenschen
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gutwrenched · 3 years
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a little starter call... just this once
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gutwrenched · 3 years
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ecritverite​:
eden / @gutwrenched
     a sunny afternoon, with a clement breeze just enough to carry the sweet scent of lilacs to the two sat under bright, endless blue. as he patiently packs his pipe for a smoke, woods seems unaware of the little leafy green inchworm finding it’s way across the expansive plane of his shoulder. occasionally it perches up to scout its route before inching along again, daring any witness to announce its journey.  “s’a lovely day, hm?” says he - but, woods, what of the worm’s day?
their eyes follow the worm, travelling its path just as slowly as it does. faye’s close by, tending to her garden, though she rarely feels the need to keep eden within her line of sight. they’re old enough now that they can roam a little further without the protection of their mother --- besides, the goddess’ protection is boundless. they keep close when it suits them, easily found by any who might come looking. eden is quiet for a long time. they lift their shoulders into a shrug, disinterested.  ‘ depends. ’
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gutwrenched · 3 years
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Debbie Harry
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gutwrenched · 3 years
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I really wanna write more but I only wana write eden :3c
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gutwrenched · 3 years
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cuyanir​.
@gutwrenched / starter call . ( for chiyo !! )
this isn’t his world but he watches it anyways. people passing by, traveling from one screen to another. sometimes with a drink in their hand. sometimes they talk with another worker, sometimes they walk alone. he notes the migration patterns from office to office, watches the soft and neutral plumage of their work clothes. his armor looks out of place in this context, even though he’s told they work with metal here. 
someone finally comes, someone whose purpose is not to rush through the lobby to another room. her steps are too slow for that. the hunter tilts his helmet, noting the outlier.
“are you the one i’m supposed to talk to about this?” his gloved palm unfurls. a single data stick rests in the center of it, a shiny birdseed. presented like a trophy with just one speck of blood on it.
Chiyo can’t see the eyes inside his helmet. She simulates an expression she believes is appropriate:  faint curiosity, a hint of warmth. Some part of her may be concerned at the prospect of seeing a man with his skeleton on the outside, but it gives her some understanding of how vulnerable he must be beneath the armor.
‘Yes.’
The blood ought to concern her. It registers, though only just. Knowing and experiencing are not the same thing. Blood is just blood, it is not the actions that preceded it. Her understanding of hypotheticals only extends so far.
‘Come with me. Was it difficult to come by?’ 
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