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#tropey fun
eternally-conflicted · 10 months
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I wrote the first half of a fun little MFMM fic today… second half coming soon 😊
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ghostlyheart · 9 months
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Coffee and you
Maggie and Nina in Good Omens Season 2
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visualtaehyun · 6 months
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Love Senior's started airing!!
So here I am, once again, with my usual language observations. Note: I'm going off the YT subs and shall use whatever name romanizations they use there!
Disclaimer: not a native Thai speaker, still learning 🙏
Manaow's older brother Faung's nickname for her because Siblings™
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Faung เฟือง /Feuuang/ is shortened from มะเฟือง /Ma Feuuang/ = star fruit
Manaow มะนาว /Ma Nao/ = lime
( ไอ้)หมาเน่า /(ai) maa nao/ = (You) rotten dog -> as you can see from my basic-ass pronunciation guide, it sounds close to her actual name -> หมาหัวเน่า /maa huaa nao/, lit. rotten-headed dog, is an idiomatic expression for an outcast, someone who's disliked and has no friends - lol thanks P'Faung!
Gyoza's red Vespa
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it's called (เจ้า)หมูแดง /(jao) moo daaeng/
เจ้า /jao/ = used affectionately as a prefix by seniors for children or juniors, as well as by owners for pets
หมูแดง /moo daaeng/ = lit. red pork; grilled marinated pork dish of Chinese origin
What to call each other
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จริง ๆ ตอนเราอยู่กันสองคน นาวไม่ต้องเรียกเกี๊ยวว่าพี่ก็ได้นะ /jing jing dtaawn rao yoo gan saawng khon, Nao mai dtawng riiak Giao waa Phi gor dai na/
Gyoza, who's been calling herself พี่ /Phi/ and who Manaow has been referring to as พี่เกี๊ยว /Phi Giao/ (because she's a senior a year ahead of her), suggests that when it's just the two of them, Nao doesn't have to call her พี่ /Phi/, and starts referring to herself just by name, เกี๊ยว /Giao/ (her full name Gyoza is เกี๊ยวซ่า /Giao Saa/).
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Manaow: งั้นเกี๊ยวเกิดเดือนไรอ่ะ /ngan Giao geert deuuan rai a/
So Manaow drops the พี่ /Phi/ right away and starts calling her เกี๊ยว /Giao/.
And just for completeness's sake: Manaow also refers to herself by name (นาว /Nao/) and Gyoza does so reciprocally (mostly นาว /Nao/ and sometimes มะนาว /Ma Nao/). So no pronouns, just names!
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จีบ /jeep/ = pursue, court, flirt with (Funnily enough, a homonym of เกี๊ยว /Giao/, which means dumpling, is เกี้ยว /giao/, which also means to flirt, woo, etc. - I'll be waiting for this pun in a future episode lol)
Gyoza's reasoning for asking is that Manaow seems ห้าว ๆ เกินหญิง /haao haao geern ying/ = bold/daring/fierce for a woman
Kudos to Lada shamelessly flirting with Alee and calling him หนู /noo/ (= lit. mouse)!!
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เดี๋ยวพี่เลี้ยงหนูนะ /diao Phi liiang Noo na/
As a 2nd person pronoun it's usually used by someone much older to affectionately refer to a child or someone younger, implying that the person referred to is cute and smol like a mouse, basically. In the same vein it can sound patronizing too, though, especially coming from a stranger or someone who isn't much older.
They're the inverse of the shy younger girl and flirty pursuing older guy trope and I love that!
Sulking~
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หายงอนแล้วใช่ไหม /haai ngaawn laaeo chai mai/ = You're not sulking anymore, right?
Just in case any potential reader has never seen a Thai series before this GL: 'Ngon' and 'Ngor', as they're often romanized, are a set of behaviors that are common in close relationships. That can be familial or between friends too but it's certainly most common in a romantic context and as a romance trope.
งอน /ngawn/ = sulking, pouting, acting displeased, huffy, slighted, petulant; can be playful or serious
ง้อ /ngaaw/ = reconcile, make up with; this can be lots of things tbh, i.e. hugging, apologizing, giving sth. to show care like Manaow does here, etc.
Flirty Puns, my beloved!
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กินเกี๊ยวไหม /gin giao mai/ = Wanna eat the dumpling?
GIN GIAO MAI DJSDHSDJDSH okay now that that's out of my system- As we've established, Gyoza refers to herself as เกี๊ยว /Giao/, which means dumpling. And กิน /gin/ means consume, take, exploit, it's mostly used with food and drink though, hence it generally being translated as 'eat'. So:
กินเกี๊ยวไหม /gin Giao mai/ = Wanna eat me?
Sidenote: this specific dumpling here is เกี๊ยวทอด /giao thaawt/ = fried wonton/dumpling
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amygdalae · 6 months
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Kindof obsessed with blue eye samurai rn
binged it in its entirety last night. if you like seeing stylized cel shaded animation actually done beautifully and are a fan of extremely graphic smoothly animated campy violence and sex and also protagonists with cool gender stuff going on id say its well worth a watch idk
(definitely check out trigger warnings tho it gets gnarly)
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soldier-poet-king · 3 months
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I need smthn angsty and/or whumpy to read. Idk man I need to purge The Emotions and none of my current reads are quite what I need (I had hoped trashy bookclub would deliver since it's basically bad fanfic, but it's just BAD not even in a fun indulgent way, it's so poorly written I can't experience any catharsis)
SFF recs that fit the bill? Standalone preferred if possible, but not necessary, I just Need The Pathos
Tagging @im-not-the-one-youre-looking-for directly bc I KNOW she always has some 👀
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suddencolds · 1 year
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Fool Me Twice | [1/?]
Original fic ft. my OCs! To be honest, l’m a little nervous about posting this—I’ve never posted anything with my OCs on here before—but I had a lot of fun writing this, so I hope it’s interesting to someone :’)
I envision this to be the first (chronologically) in their series, so no context needed!
Summary: Yves needs a date to the party, and Vincent seems happy to play the part, for better or for worse. But a last-minute cold throws a wrench in their plans. - (ft. fake dating, heartbreak, a New Year’s party, and a cold)
Yves tries to be the bigger person about it, really.
He has every intention of never contacting Erika again. He thinks he never wants to speak to her again, and he certainly has no intention of doing anything in retaliation. Not that she would care if he tried. He tells himself he’ll take all of it in stride—the cheating, the breakup, her immediate engagement with Brendon—and never speak to her again.
The problem is that he and Erika were friends before they dated. The problem, really, is that they both know Margot, who’s throwing an end-of-the-year party—an annual occasion, and one which he promised her months back he would attend—and Erika is, without a doubt, going to be there with the very person she left him for.
The problem is, Margot knows he’s in town. He could take the easy way out—say he’s been called away last minute for some cousin’s wedding in Europe—and tell her he isn’t attending, and he’s half considering it when Erika texts him.
E: what are you thinking of getting for margot?
Yves thinks of ten responses to that, which do not exclude please do not ever contact me again and I’m definitely not going to the party if you are. Instead, he shuts his phone off, takes a run around the neighborhood, showers, makes breakfast. Then, against all better judgment, he texts her back.
Y: nice try. can’t have you stealing my idea
And he knows he should leave it. He knows that if he doesn’t show up to the party, everything will be fine, even if it means that Erika will get to tell her side of the story—frame her own infidelity in such skewed, oversimplifying terms that it will seem perfectly reasonable, and maybe even shift some of the blame to Yves in the process—to practically everyone he’d spoken to in university. It will be for the better.
But part of him is bitter. Part of him wants to show up to the party and show her just how fine he is, just how little he needs her. Part of him wants to show her that he hasn’t thought about her at all since the breakup. That he’s doing perfectly fine without her—or, better yet, that he’s better off now; even more ludicrously, that their breakup was one of the best things that’s ever happened to him. 
It wasn’t. It isn’t. He misses her more than he’d like to admit. But he can’t help but think it would be nice to even out the score, for once, after everything she’s put him through.
It’s that train of thought that leads him to… well, drastic measures.
“I can’t believe the year’s almost over,” he says, at work, to Vincent Gates, in the break room. “It really felt like it dragged at the start.” this, he thinks, is probably not a relatable sentiment to Vincent Gates, who probably keeps impeccable track of time, but at least it’s a half-decent setup to the next question he’s planning to ask: “are you going anywhere for the holidays?”
Vincent has been his coworker for almost a year now—ever since Yves started working with Evertech Solutions. 
And Vincent is good at his job, as far as Yves can see. He minds his own business, and—as Yves had told Erika when they were still dating—he “looks like the kind of person they hire for photoshoots.” He’s attractive in a natural, boyish sort of way—he has soft, feathery dark hair that hangs just short of his eyes; high, angular cheekbones, and a decent jawline. He wears glasses with wiry red frames, and he almost always wears ties, and he brings the same laptop bag to work every morning.
All in all, he carries himself like someone who takes himself all too seriously. And, most importantly, Erika has heard of him.
“I don’t have anything planned,” Vincent says.
“Great,” Yves says. Here goes nothing. “One of my friends is throwing a New Year’s party, and I was wondering if you’d—”
“I’m not interested.”
Really, it’s not as though Yves hadn’t expected this.
“Okay,” he says evenly. “Not a fan of parties?”
“Not exactly,” Vincent says, which is Yves’s cue to take his coffee and get out of here before this gets any more awkward. Except, then he adds, “I mean, if your friend was desperate enough to have you soliciting your coworkers…”  
Yves blinks. “I’m not allowed to invite my coworkers?”
Vincent shrugs. “We don’t know each other very well. If you’re asking me, I assume you’ve already asked half the office.”
“I haven’t.” he hadn’t intended to explain himself—or any part of this situation, really—unless Vincent had said yes. But now, he thinks, leaving things on this note would probably come across as some sort of clumsy proposition. Better to clarify while he still can. “It’s not really that sizeable of a party.”
“So,” Vincent says.
“So,” Yves clears his throat. “If i’m being really honest here, my ex is going to be there. At the party, I mean, with the guy she cheated on me with like, half a year ago, whom she’s currently dating. So I wanted to find someone to go with too. And you’re right—this is probably the worst place in the world to be looking for a plus one. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“And you’re asking me because?”
She knows you, he doesn’t say. “You didn’t seem like the type of person who would make a big deal out of it,” he reasons instead, with a shrug, which isn’t untrue. “That’s all. Forget I asked.” he swipes his coffee mug from the counter, turns to leave.
“I wouldn’t mind,” Vincent says.
Yves doesn’t turn around. Swallows down the faintest semblance of hope that those words stir in his chest. “What?”
“Like I said, parties aren’t my scene. But if one of us is getting something out of this, I would be fine with it.”
“Oh.” This is better news than expected. He doesn’t manage to hide his surprise. “Great. You’re a lifesaver, Vincent. I’ll give you my number so we can coordinate?”
Vincent texts him later that night.
V: Do you think your ex will ask me about you?
It’s not out of the question: if they’re going to pretend to be dating, Vincent is going to need much more context than what he’s presumably picked up from their limited interactions in the office. So Yves spends the weekend getting Vincent up to speed:
His ex’s name is Erika, they dated for two years before he caught her making out with a colleague at a party he wasn’t invited to, she hadn’t had the courtesy to pretend to be remorseful when he confronted her about it. (“It wouldn’t have been any more forgivable if she were remorseful about it,” Vincent says over lunch, which Yves guesses is technically true, even if it doesn’t feel that way). When they’d broken up, he’d never wanted to talk to her again. But they were friends before they ever dated, and half of his close friends are her friends, too. So naturally, she has her way of showing up in his life when he least wants to see her.
They’d been friends ever since their first year in university—they’d gotten close over sleepless nights at the library and pre-sunrise mornings with the rowing team (“Somehow you rowing crew doesn’t really surprise me,” Vincent says. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Yves says, and Vincent laughs.)—and when she asked him out it had only felt like a natural progression, like something that had felt so right he had barely thought to question it. The worst part of all of it is that he would’ve been more than happy to give her the benefit of the doubt. He would’ve been ready to forgive her, to dismiss the entire incident as a decision she’d been too drunk to think clearly about, and move on from it. (To this admission, Vincent frowns in a manner which Yves thinks can only be disapproving, but he keeps his mouth shut.) But Erika left no room for doubt.
Then they discuss logistics: on New Year’s Eve, Yves will pick Vincent up at seven and drive them both to the party. They’ll tell everyone that they met at work and that they’ve been together since august. They’ll say that they’re keeping the relationship an open secret between themselves and their friends, so that it doesn’t complicate things unnecessarily at work. Yves won’t drink, in part because he’s driving and in part because drunk Yves can be a little too honest for his own good, but Vincent can. Yves cares about catching up with Margot. Yves does not care about catching up with Erika. There will be maybe thirty people there, and there will probably be fireworks. They’ll stay for dinner, but they can both leave before midnight if Vincent has family or friends he wants to call. 
All in all, by the time Yves goes home for winter break, it seems like things are all set to go smoothly.
That is, until he wakes up three days before the party with a twinge in his throat.
It’s nothing he can’t sleep off, he tells himself. He’s just tired—he’s been busy getting everyone gifts for Christmas and New Year’s and getting them delivered; having dinner with Leon, his younger brother, and Victoire, his younger sister; helping his neighbors set up their Christmas tree; running errands for the Miss Elodie, the old lady who lives across the street; helping Mikhail, his roommate from college, with moving in. He just needs a proper night’s rest, or maybe two. No need to text Vincent about it if this turns out to be nothing.
But the twinge in his throat turns into a terrible sore throat, which gets worse, not better, until it hurts to swallow anything aside from hot tea. He wakes up on the second day congested, with a tickle in his nose so intense that he has barely any warning before he’s jerking forward with a loud, miserable sneeze. 
He texts Margot first:
Y: think i’m coming down with a cold. do you still want me to go?
—to which she responds,
M: PLEASE COME 
M: (if you’re feeling up to it?)
Y: i feel fine
Y: just don’t want to pass it on if i’m contagious 🤧 
M: it’s about to be 2017, live a little
M: would rather have you here and catch your cold personally then have you skip
Y: haha okay, i’ll take some dayquil
Then he texts Vincent:
Y: i think i have a cold
Y: i’m sorry, i know it’s shitty timing. i totally get it if you’d rather not go w me
Y: just let me know
Vincent doesn’t respond immediately. Yves takes a seat on the couch, sets the tissue box down beside him, and tries to mentally prepare himself for showing up alone. On second thought, maybe he’ll have to drink, within reason, to get through the night. To put up a convincing enough act that he’s doing fine. To see Erika again—with Brendon, probably—and pretend he doesn’t miss her at all. To—
V: Do you need anything?
Yves blinks down at the screen. It’s not the response he expects.
Y: thanks for asking :) i’m good Y: just don’t want to get you sick
V: I’m not worried about that at all
V: I have a pretty good immune system
That seems like it could be true. Yves doesn’t think he’s ever seen Vincent take a sick day, much less show up to work looking anything less than healthy.
V: Just tell me if you’re not feeling up to it?
Y: okay
Y: i’m definitely going to go
Y: are you sure you’re okay w this? i would feel really bad if you caught my cold
V: Not going to happen. See you tomorrow at 7
Yves sets his phone down beside him, tilts his head back onto the couch, and shuts his eyes. They’re really doing this.
[ Part 2 ]
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seaglassdinosaur · 6 months
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Finally, a story where the problems occur because the girl doesn’t appropriately deal with her feelings of sexual attraction, misinterpreting them and turning to aggression.
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ninawolv3rina · 10 months
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Do I LOVE tropes and arrows maps as a concept? No. Are they fun as hell to make? Yes?!?
Anyways here's what you can expect if you grab a copy of The Unwanted Prophet. Sound interesting? You can get it here!
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radiantmists · 2 months
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id forgotten that san lang was baby now! also its hilarious that he's upset that he's small and useless and xie lian is like, are you going to get even smaller and more baby? please? for me??
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direwombat · 8 months
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like clockwork, another wip wednesday rolls around
tagged by @euryalex @gaeadene, @inafieldofdaisies, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @adelaidedrubman, @ivymarquis, and @g0dspeeed (tysm lovelies~ i will rb your wips momentarily <3)
Tagging: @strangefable , @jillvalentinesday , @voidika , @aceghosts , @purplehairsecretlair , @henbased, @poetikat, @vampireninjabunnies-blog , @cassietrn , @confidentandgood , @wrathfulrook , @josephslittledeputy , @madparadoxum , @clonesupport, @trench-rot, @miyabilicious, @simplegenius042, @strafethesesinners, @deputyash, @schoute, @harmonyowl, and anyone else with a wip they want to share (also to be officially added to/removed from the taglist please like/reply to this post!)
i'm feeling generous so here are two wips: one for the werewolf au and one for katc because i've been doing my best to work on both at the same time :) everything is subject to change since these are still early drafts but they're mostly coherent
here's something from the horror and the wild, where syb is skedaddling from the veterans center :)c
Her scowl returns and she flips him off before tossing the map on top of her dashboard and rolling up her window. She throws her truck back into gear, and clumsily swings a three point turn to set her back down the road she drove in on. Jacob, at the very least, has the courtesy to step out of her way before she has the opportunity to spitefully run his foot over. 
She grits her teeth, her hands alternating between clenching and releasing the steering wheel while she creeps back down the road. Her left knee bounces while she keeps her foot lightly pressed against the accelerator, resisting the urge to speed away. 
Maybe kick up some dirt in his face for good measure. 
But when she glances up into her rear-view mirror, her heart stutters in her chest and her limbs lock in place. Framed by the sinister gates and standing directly beneath the arching letters, Jacob Seed watches her retreat with his arms crossed over his broad chest. She’s too far away to make out any facial expression, but she’s almost positive he’s smirking. 
She takes her eyes off him in favor of following the slight curve of the dirt road, but as she does — as the angle of her rear lights changes, she swears she catches something flashing in her rear-view mirror. It’s so fast, so sudden, but if she didn’t know any better, she would have said Jacob’s eyes were reflecting like an animal’s.
But when her eyes dart back up to catch his shrinking reflection, there’s nothing strange to be seen. 
Just a man, watching her take her leave from his property. 
The road continues to curve, and it isn’t long  before he eventually disappears behind the trees. 
She breathes out a sigh of relief, and continues along until she reaches an intersection with one of the main, paved roads. Pulling over, she takes a moment to press her forehead to the top of the steering wheel, allowing the tension to melt away. 
Christ, that was fuckin’ creepy.
Lifting her head and raking her fingers through her hair, she puffs out her cheeks and heaves another sigh. “Alright, c’mon, get yourself together,” she mutters to herself. She punches her overhead light back on and drags the map — right side up — back onto her lap. The thick, plastic-y paper crinkles loudly as she searches for the old Veterans center. Once she finds it, she taps her finger against it to hold its place and looks for Forest Road 135. 
Jesus, she really missed the mark, and she grimaces when she notices the clock on her dash reads just past 9:30 pm. 
Fuck, Eli must be worried. 
Part of her considers driving back to his place; they can check in on Chad in the morning. But she told him she would, and she’s a woman of her word. 
Gingerly, she traces her finger along the roads leading from the Veterans Center. It crawls down the map — take a left onto the main road, hook right, then left, and then Chad’s place should be on a small dirt road somewhere on her right. She goes over the path a few times, committing it to memory before turning off her interior light and folding up the map. 
Just as she makes that first turn onto the main road, the clear, distinct sound of a wolf’s howl rings out into the night, followed by an echoing chorus. It isn’t an uncommon sound up here in the mountains — there have been many nights with Eli where she’s woken up in the middle of the night and stayed up listening to them sing. 
Normally, she finds the sound to be beautiful. But tonight, she just finds it haunting. 
Her eyes dart to the treeline, keeping an eye out for any animals that may come bounding across her path just as much as she pays attention to the road itself. Dark shapes move in the shadows, entirely hidden from her despite the brightness of her high-beams. The hair prickles at the back of her neck and her breathing suddenly goes ragged. 
Her gut, animal instinct is screaming at her to move faster. She’s being followed. Stalked.
Hunted.
and here's some some of syb getting rescued by jerome from katc :)
Somewhere in the Holland Valley. 10:34 pm.
While not entirely accurate, to say that Sybille feels like she’s been hit by a bus is by no means an understatement. 
She lies on the ground -- the ceiling? -- of the van. Blood oozes from the same gash near her hairline that she had stitched up in Dutch’s bunker earlier that morning. The lights illuminating the van flicker unsteadily. Dark shadows strobe violently, causing her eyes to throb in their sockets while the ringing in her ears drowns out all sound. 
A wheeze of a groan forces itself from her lungs, and she lifts her head only to have her surroundings swim around her. Every muscle throbs with the dispersed aches of full body blunt force trauma. The taste of blood sits on her tongue and as she coughs to clear her throat of the thick substance blocking it, a splash of red spatters messily onto the ground beneath her. 
“Oh, God,” she moans to herself. She forces herself up onto her elbows, her arms trembling as they struggle to carry her weight, and crawls towards the back doors, over the broken glass left behind by shattered windows . There’s no thought to the pain exploding around her left shoulder or how off-kilter she feels every time she heaves herself forward. Her shoulder is definitely dislocated but she can’t worry about that right now. Whatever injuries she’s sustained, she can take stock of them later. 
She needs to get out of here. 
She needs to find Joey. 
She needs to find Augustine. 
With a clumsy heave, she throws herself against the van’s back doors, trying to force them open. They move, pushing outwards, but she meets some kind of resistance. There must be something blocking the way, or the metal frame must have buckled when the truck rolled over. She tries again, grunting in pain as it flashes white-hot through her injured shoulder, but to no avail. 
The door is stuck. 
Another curse slips through her teeth, but her attention is quickly focused on the pained groans and rustling sounding behind her. Her mouth opens to call to one of the other passengers to help her, but when she looks over her shoulder, her eyes go wide. The two civilians she was with lay in broken, bloody heaps, their limbs hanging at limp, awkward angles. 
Dead. Killed during the crash. 
The Peggie, however, much like her, somehow managed to miraculously survive. He groans as he weakly lifts his head. Blood pours down his face, further matting his already unkempt hair and beard. A wet cough rattles from his lungs, and when he sucks in a breath, it comes out heavy and rasping. He’s obviously struggling to breathe. 
Punctured lung, she thinks with a grimace. She’d know the sound anywhere. After spending what felt like hours baking in the Afghanistan sun waiting for someone to find her and pinned down by the weight of the villager she’d failed to save, the sound of her own labored breathing has been burned into her memory. 
She’s suddenly thankful that her wounds mostly seem to be superficial. 
As far as she can tell, anyways. 
His eyes go wide when he sees her trying to break free, and he reaches towards her. A hand, slick with blood, grips her by the ankle. There’s more force to his tug than she’d anticipated. Her shirt rides up her stomach, and she lets out a scream as the soft flesh of her belly is mercilessly raked across the bits of broken glass. 
Frantically, she twists around, desperately attempting to kick at his face. He manages to evade her strikes and, much to her dismay, reaches for his gun, which had been flung about the van during the crash. 
And then his brains are suddenly blown out of the back of his skull. Skull fragments and bits of gray matter go splattering against the other two dead bodies and the cultist falls limp. 
Her head whips around, and she breathes a sigh of relief when she finds the van doors wide open and Pastor Jerome standing over her, smoke still rising from the barrel of his pistol. If she believed in such things, she might have considered him her guardian angel. He smiles warmly at her as he stows his gun into the hollow of his Bible. Crouching down, he pulls out a small knife and reaches toward her bound hands. 
“Stay with me,” he says. It’s muffled, overpowered by the ringing in her ears, but she can hear him. The plastic snaps, freeing her hands, and he helps her up. She grunts as she rises. Her sore muscles scream at her, telling her to lay back down, to rest, but she pushes past it. He places his hands on her good shoulder, steadying her on her feet. “Didn’t go through all this trouble just to lose you now.” 
“I’m gettin' goddamn sick of bein’ tossed around like Raggedy Ann doll," she tells him.
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deoidesign · 1 year
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Someone told me my comic reads like a b-rate monster movie, or a cw show.
They meant it as like, an insult, but this is actually the greatest compliment I've nearly ever received. Literally exactly what I'm going for thank you
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r0b0-writes · 4 months
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Writing a long, self-indulgent au!fanfic actually can be so funny cuz literally what are they doing in a high school
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finchmarie · 1 year
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Another sketch page. I really like figuring out the dynamics between my dudes (maybe one day I’ll roll some men folk even. I think blueberry boys are in my future!)
I think Mass Effect sketches in a similar fashion may be next as I work through my insanity Soldier run.
As last time a bunch of info dumping on my Legacy.
Theron & Charlie just before Nathema. She’s very in love and therefore about to be real pissed. Just so furious because it’s easier than being heartbroken. In my canon run it’s Winter, Charlie, Codex & Lana that ultimately track him down.
Codex and Emer (pronounced ey-mer) passing some time on Odessen. Codex hasn’t found Vector yet at that point, and they enjoy fooling around with Emer. Not just for the physical connection but because it brings them a greater understanding of the inner workings of the Sith and Dark Council.
Codex is the product of their Cipher training, they’re calm, collected and nearly impossible to read. They typically report directly to Lana and actually become very close with Esskelle who shares many of their personality traits. They both also have a bit of a masochistic streak.
Emer didn’t romance Quinn. I’m considering Risha, Elara or even Senya. Emer is fairly typical Sith she’s passionate and full of rage she readily brings to battle. She’s also petty and egotistical. However she’s fiercely loyal to those in her good graces. She loves Vette like a sister and it is to Vette’s credit that Emer is not a complete monster.
Esskelle taking a hit in training. Showing off her tattoo that is a massive pita. I still need to work out a full design for her arm. I also need to work out how she lost it. I want to say as an injury while being trapped in carbonite, or during an encounter with Vaylin. She’s still clunky with it but is quickly learning how to use the weight to her advantage.
Aric doing some training. Mostly cause I love cat man and his VA, but also cause I need to practice drawing masc folks.
Izzy (Isra’fael) doing some exercising. She’s a smuggler who has a decent reputation and joined the Alliance to make money (which she has). She’s hyper competitive with Charlie and it frustrates her to no end that Charlie is better than her in most things despite being (in her mind) dumber and less prepared. In pushing herself constantly she’s become a valuable asset that Hylo is particularly fond of. She also gets on very well with Vette as they share similar backgrounds and a love for a good caper.
Aric and Leyliana’s reunion makes me feel stuff. Him thinking she’s been dead for five years and then she appears out of the blue and he’s skeptical and nervous but she smells and looks and speaks just like he remembers. I’m gonna have to write about it for real here soon.
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hydrachea · 7 months
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What are your thoughts on Oberon/Aurora?
I had never considered it but it sounds like a hilariously hollow relationship. Aurora cannot care about anything or anyone other than herself and being loved, and Oberon is Oberon. He said he enjoyed chatting with her, but I suspect that's another lie and he meant more that she was easy to chat with - she plays her role within her story and reality will always ensure that she stays the protagonist of it, so it's pretty effortless to go along with the script.
They could easily play the perfect prince and perfect princess, but there'd be no substance to it. It'd look great to the audience but neither of them would have true feelings for the other. So it'd be entertaining, if anything! It's an interesting idea.
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