SURVIVAL INSTINCT @survival-instxnct - Tumblr Blog

when my time comes around // lay me gently in the cold, dark earth // NO GRAVE CAN HOLD MY BODY DOWN // I'll crawl home to her.

☾ SURVIVAL INSTINCT — penned by: MIMI ! { he/him ; 25 years old ; EST } 21+ ONLY. ind. SELECTIVE & MODERATELY-ACTIVE multi-muse canon & OC roleplay blog. fixated on sci-fi / horror / apocalyptic / fantasy / historical.

a study in found family; humanity & monsters; instincts, moral codes, & attempting to do right in the face of the impossible; love transcending time & fate — for what is grief, if not love persevering?

guidelines & muses { gdoc } • prompts. mobile friendly guidelines & muses under the cut. to do: 2 replies; 2 asks; 1 starter.

#{ pinned. }#{ simisapa // ooc }

It’s officially been a month since my laptop busted on me 😵‍💫 I’m not putting this blog on hiatus; I’ll be around still! But probably low activity until I can get everything sorted.

#{ simisapa // ooc }#sighsss it’s been a rough start to ‘26 yall #if anyone wants my discord lmk <3!

Hi yall! I’m still on and off here, I might just be a lil quiet cuz my laptop’s officially a bust and I gotta buy a new one soon. But I will be back!!

#{ simisapa // ooc }#if anyone has laptop recommendations pls lmk LOL #I think there’s some deals this weekend so imma check it out

tis my bday 😋

#{ simisapa // ooc }#treating myself today hehe #sad that my laptop combusted on me but it is what it is #catch me running to the Korean restaurant heheheheheeee

rayofsunshinc

Going down rabbit holes on the internet was where the majority of Dominic's research began. It's where he found the contacts, the weird stuff. This had begun no differently. It was a grainy video from someone's shitty phone, apparently connected to a sealed off building in Barcelona. Everything else on the situation was a complete mystery. There were theories, most about a gas leak or a fire, some going further to say a crime scene. But the more he dug the more people suspected it was something else. Something unexplainable.

Dominic was obsessed with the folklore surrounding "gates to hell". He wasn't sure that this correlated. More likely there was something inside the building. He followed his gut, which wasn't always the safest thing to do, but god knew he wasn't really scared anymore.

That's how he ended up in the sewer, beneath one of the most beautiful cities he'd ever been in, desperate for a way inside what people were calling el edificio maldito. He thought he was climbing up into the building itself, but instead he was poking his head up to face what looked like a warehouse, as far as he could tell with the light from his flashlight.

It was cold, silent and god, the smell. Everyone else entering the building had been wearing a hazmat suit, and he wondered if he'd made a mistake just wearing a coat.

Dominic climbed inside anyway, taking in his surroundings. He stepped closer to inspect what might've been stained glass, but it was too dirty to see what was really on the other side. He didn't linger, eying the rest of the room quickly until his eyes fell on the hall.

He took in a deep breath, let it out slow. Yeah, that was where he needed to go. He could see half-hearted pulled down shutters hanging loosely. He needed to go past them.

He pushed them out of the way as he stepped forward with intent, flashlight bouncing light around as he stepped forward.

survival-instxnct

The metal shutters SCREECHED, bouncing off the walls of the lobby before fading into a deathly silence. ( Somewhere, on an upper level, a head perks up. Then another. And another one. And— )

Straight ahead, the iron of the main doors stood stark against the opaque plastic enclosing the facade of the building. Dark streaks of handprints stained the window. But the stench of copper came from his left — a square spiral staircase, once beautiful in its tiled design, now streaked with gore. A broken pair of handcuffs hung from one of the railing's spindle, and below it, a puddle of blood, glistening beneath his flashlight. Fresh. Smeared. Not in the way it would be if a body had been dragged from it, but rather like the person simply got up and walked away. Footprints proved this, leaving a trail up the stairs.

Too quiet. For this amount of carnage, the building was too quiet — as if holding its breath, waiting for something to pounce at the newcomer. The faintest source of light came from a sunroof in the eye of the staircase, and if he chose to look up, he would find at least five levels — and maybe, if he was quick enough, the glimpse of someone looking down upon him from the third floor before hiding behind the railing.

Where does the investigator go? > Look more closely through the foyer. > Go up the staircase? Be careful.

#{ rayofsunshinc .ᐟ }#{ c: Ángela Vidal }#rayofsunshinc [◉°] el edificio maldito — dominic williams & Ángela vidal

@arketypes sent: "HIGH: for our muses sit on top of a roof together, sharing a bottle of booze or a joint." for Bellko. from LOCATION + SITUATIONS PROMPTS

the cold metal of the Ark bites into their ass, but Kova can't find it within themselves to complain. not with this view. the moon glows in the dark sea of the night sky, accompanied by stars twinkling their farewells to the last vibrant stripe of sunset at the horizon. dark treetops sway with the autumn winds in the distance. not so far up that the other Arkers seem like ants, but enough that the constant whirr of a machine fades into the background. but the descent may prove to be tricky, especially after the two light up this joint.

even they have not smoked in quite some time. but, after Mt. Weather, after everything that's happened... well, atlas seems like his shoulders could use a break from that heavy burden on his shoulders. they can only hope they were clear enough earlier: do not underestimate the smoke.

" it is nothing like the jobi nuts, " Kova jokes, hoping to ease that line of his brows as they light the mullein torch. the candle glows softly between the two. they hand over the joint, letting him examine it first. " just... do not inhale too much of it in one go. small puffs for now. "

#{ arketypes .ᐟ }#{ c: kova kom trikru }#arketypes ♒︎ mainverse. bellamy blake & kova kom trikru #♡ arketypes ♒︎ bellko — half of my soul‚ as the poets say.#is that a weed?!

rayofsunshinc

@survival-instxnct sent: 'platonic' sentence starters ❛ remind me why we’re friends again? ❜ { bucky @ sam }

Sam snorted, not even bothering to hide his grin as he shot Bucky a sideways look.❝Oh, come on. It's because I’m the only one who's not scared to tell you when you’re being an asshole.❞ He bumped Bucky’s shoulder with his own, an easy and familiar gesture. Sam’s smile softened just a little, voice dropping to something more serious. ❝And when things get ugly, you know I’m not going anywhere.❞

Sam’s grin turned sharp again. ❝And because you pretend to be annoyed at me, but you still keep answering my texts and calls. That’s friendship, man. You don’t get out of it that easily and you’re welcome, by the way.❞

survival-instxnct

That snort and grin combo had Bucky rolling his eyes before he could meet Sam's look, but there was no irritation in the motion — almost affectionate, if one knew where to look: in the way his chest warmed with the bump against his shoulder, and the corner of his lips ticking up in spite of his deadpan expression. And when that easygoing tone of Sam's lowered into something just a bit more weighty, a bit more somber — those blue eyes of his found brown, softening at his words. Yeah. He knew that. The other man showed it time and time again. Steve knew how to pick out the most loyal of loyal friends.

A scoff left him this time, just shy of a chuckle. He shook his head, but didn't deny it — instead, he glanced around the marina. Force of habit, checking for hostiles and the like. ❝ Speaking of answering the phone, you gonna tell me what we're doing in Louisiana already? ❞

#rayofsunshinc .ᐟ #{ c: bucky barnes }#rayofsunshinc ⍟ mcu v. sam wilson & bucky barnes

@arketypes sent: "EARLY: our muses spend all night at the beach until sunrise." main v. combatmedic. from LOCATION + SITUATIONS PROMPTS

the backstabber holds onto her tight, strong arms wrapped around the small of her back. he fakes her out with a drop — and cold, salty ocean water crashes against his midsection, soaking her lower half, drawing a hiss through grinning teeth. she squeals, nails digging into his neck and back, thighs tightening around his sides. her belly-aching laughs warm Bellamy from the inside out — but the sand beneath his bare feet shifts — and the next CRASH of a wave sends both of them tumbling into the water.

he builds the bonfire in record time as penance.

still, the two laugh together as they build a clothesline from branches and vines, leaving their sopping wet clothes out to dry. he shows off his skills from his time with the delinquents by sharpening a makeshift spear out of a skinny tree branch, and by the time the sun reaches the far horizon, he's frying up the two fishes he proudly caught.

( this is what the Ark had been missing — a void all Arkers felt, only eased ever so slightly in the observation rooms where the sun's rays hit, the quietest of echoes in the Eden Tree — life in the constant movements of Earth's nature. )

"sooo," he drags out the vowel, tilting his head toward her. the fire glints prettily in dark brown puppy eyes. "come here often?" ( dork ! )

#{ arketypes .ᐟ }#{ c: bellamy blake }#arketypes ⚕ combatmedic — mainverse. sarah aarden & bellamy blake #♡ arketypes ⚕ combatmedic — in every life‚ on every shore.

rayofsunshinc

@survival-instxnct sent: GESTURE PROMPTS [ COLLAR ] — sender grabs receiver by the collar of their shirt to pull their faces close together { wolvie @ deadpoo ! } — "Listen, bub!"

❝Wow, okay, strong opening!❞

Wade didn't flinch at this point (well, maybe a little, but he played it off). His eyes flicking down to the hand fisted in his collar and then back up to Logan's face. ❝Very intimidating. Eight outta ten. Would be higher if you’d committed to the full wall slam.❞ He grinned as Logan yanked him close, and it was obvious in his tone that he was grinning, even though it was hidden by his mask. ❝You grab me like that in public, people are gonna get the wrong idea. Or the right one. Hard to say.❞

He lifted his hands slowly, palms out. ❝Okay, okay! I’m listening, peanut.❞ His head tilted. ❝Just … maybe put away the murder claws before this turns into another ‘we don’t talk about it’ incident, yeah?❞

survival-instxnct

That shit-eating grin in his tone only made Logan's lips curl with a sneer. His fist tightened. Should've gone for the wall slam — and knock the fucking wind outta his smartass mouth while he had the chance. This was no joking matter. Not with half the X-Men down, and the other half held hostage in Asteroid M. As much as he'd hate to admit it ... he needed him.

He growled low in response to his flirt jokes. But when Wade finally seemed serious for once, he slowly retracted the claws and loosened his hold on his collar. The Professor didn't get much information to him before his abduction — but there's only one mutant known for metal manipulation.

❝ Magneto's got some kind of machine, some sort of mutant enhancer. ❞ His lips tightened before he admitted, ❝ ...he has Yukio, too. ❞

#{ rayofsunshinc .ᐟ }#{ c: wolvie }#rayofsunshinc ⨂ the cauldron. deadpool & wolverine #his icon is looking up cuz he's short— *gunshots*

🎟️ { @arketypes } — tickets for combatmedic please !

‧₊˚🥂 SUGAR DATING AU.

Honestly, when Bellamy had signed up for that website, he had no idea what to expect. Certainly not a penthouse. Not to sit on a couch worth at least three times his meager salary, sipping on wine aged in oak since before he was born. And certainly not her, with those designer cat-eye frames, and the pretty brown eyes behind them.

#{ arketypes .ᐟ }#{ 🎟️ ticket moodboard prompt }#♡ arketypes ⚕ combatmedic — in every life‚ on every shore.#arketypes ⚕ sugar dating v. sarah aarden & bellamy blake #{ artsy 🎨 }#{ c: Bellamy Blake }#“you ever see a woman so beautiful you just start crying” - Bell @ Sarah

🎟️ { @arketypes } — tickets for Bellko please !

‧͙ *̩̩͙ ❆ GENERAL OF THE NORTH AU. Reclaimed from Azgeda and held by Trikru's fiercest warriors, the North is an unforgiving region. Bitter winds cut through layers of fur and flesh alike, burrowing deep into bone, and its snow-covered terrain favors apex predators over the unprepared — none more so than the General, Kova kom Trikru. Few ever expected such a figure to relinquish command — for love, out of all things, and to an Arker at that.

#{ arketypes .ᐟ }#{ 🎟️ ticket moodboard prompt }#♡ arketypes ♒︎ bellko — half of my soul‚ as the poets say.#arketypes ♒︎ general of the north v. — reflections‚ rushing water. bellamy blake & kova kom trikru #{ c: bellamy blake }#{ c: kova kom trikru }#{ artsy 🎨 }

arketypes

⋆ 𖤓 ⋆˚࿔ ” you lived for two decades with nothing but your spine holding you up. the way light does not care if shadows follow. you do not have to be wanted - to prove that you are real ! „ seraphina aarden , the 100 main v.

#{ promo. }#OOOO you wanna rp with my bestie so bad !!

what tarot card is your muse? tagged by @arketypes !

KOVA KOM TRIKRU — THE LOVERS. Your lover’s back does not look quite the same this morning. No one else would notice the difference, if there even is a difference, but you could swear they have more vertebrae than usual. Something in the breathing, as you stare at them in the morning light. The light in the kitchen is just as warm as it always is, the coffee just as hot, but you cannot meet your lover’s eyes. They kiss you on the forehead, go off to work, shake their keys on the way out as they always do. Did they eat anything this morning? Did they speak? Of course they did. You’re probably losing your mind. You would call your friends to ask, if you had any friends left. You don’t, of course, haven’t for months. You only need each other. You only need them. You haven’t spoken to anyone in months. You count the notches on their back. You watch them breathe. You pray they don’t turn around.

BELLAMY BLAKE — THE MOON. You avoid corners and doorways - do you know why? Have you looked inwards recently? Do you understand what is happening there? Your mind is muddled and dusty, a mirror you haven’t been able to clean properly. Smudging the nervousness just leaves streaks on the glass, which makes your face harder to see, which makes you nervous. What are you nervous of, darling? What keeps you up at night? Why haven’t you confronted it? Do you know what it is? Can you answer my questions? Are they making you nervous? Am I frightening you?

#{ tagged prompt. }#of course kova got the lovers LOL #if anyone's interested in doing this for their own muse(s) feel free to tag me in it! would love to see what everyone gets :)!#{ c: kova kom trikru }#{ c: bellamy blake }#horror tw

intromusic

@survival-instxnct knuckle deep in a wound to retrieve a bullet fragment.

it may cost them precious time that they do not have. it is this, or rick returns home on death's door. just long enough to say his goodbyes.

a split second prior to beginning, he braces himself as probing digits delve into raw wound set to aching. jaw sets with teeth clamped (it'll ache after) as hands discover occupation, gripping at the lip of the peeling linoleum countertop for purchase. a sharp pain shoots to the surface, white hot and blinding. at some unfixed point in time, rick swears he's going under, circling the drain to unconsciousness.

at the very least, should he succumb, michonne wouldn't have to contend with any of his squirming. the fragment of bullet has bit deep, and he's paid witness to the consequences of neglect, even something as small as a pencil's eraser, allowed to fester within. it's either this temporary pain, or something slower and arguably more agonizing in the long-run.

rick thinks to his son and the bravery displayed despite the fact that he'd been held down while fingers and tools poked for more than just a singular segment.

he can be brave, too. he has to be.

"christ—" rick hisses, white-knuckling, trying his damndest to slacken muscles drawn taut and made tense. the squelching noise of the wound paired with the plethora of pain turns his stomach.

survival-instxnct

this will cost them precious time, but better to get it over with now than risk the bullet shifting into a spot of no return. can't lose him. dammit. she should've heard those assholes coming, but she'd been distracted keeping an eye out for walkers.

( bullshit. she'd been distracted by him, by this tension pulling taut between them with every lingering glance, every brush of their hands. )

she doesn't bother with false reassurances or a heads-up ( likes to think she knows him better by now. ) apologetic fingers dive into the entry wound. a grimace crinkles her nose at the heat of slick blood — at the squelch of each attempt to pinch or scratch out the fragment. other hand shoots up at his hiss, firmly clasping over his mouth. her lips pinch; wide, frantic eyes meet his with a warning before scanning the kitchen they've found themselves in. last thing the two need is to test their luck, even if this abandoned house seems empty.

another wince, another dig. but then her nail scratches something hard and— "i got it," she whispers, sparing a glance down to where she's knuckle deep in his wound. fuck. has to be careful. can't risk losing it now.

nostrils flare, throat tightening — but her determined gaze flicks back to his. he's gone pale, but he can do this. she knows he can. maybe it would've been better to have him lying on the table. too late for that now. "you ready?"

#{ intromusic .ᐟ }#{ c: Michonne }#♡ intromusic `🕯´ richonne — the only time i feel safe is when i'm with you.#intromusic `🕯´ prompt. knuckle deep. rick grimes & michonne grimes #knuckle deep in what ahah 🫦 /j

leneemusing

locations + situations prompts

CONSPIRE: for our muses to hide with each other at a houseparty, sitting on the floor in a coat closet or bathroom.

HIGH: for our muses sit on top of a roof together, sharing a bottle of booze or a joint.

TRAP: for our muses to be stuck in an elevator alone together for several hours.

TRIP: our muses are on a roadtrip together and the car breaks down somewhere remote.

DARK: our muses spend the night in a haunted location trying to hunt ghosts.

TASTE: our muses share a cigarette on a swing set in an empty park.

EARLY: our muses spend all night at the beach until sunrise.

LATE: our muses are camping in the mountains together but hear noises outside their tent at midnight.

BALL: our muses dance together at a masquerade, not knowing the other's identity until the party is over.

SETUP: our muses have mutual friends who set them up on a blind date at an ice cream parlor.

FREE: our muses sneak into a skating rink together while its closed.

REALIZE: our muses are in an abandoned amusement park but discover a crime scene.

ACCIDENT: our muses hook up in a library but accidentally stay after its been closed and are locked in for the night.

PAINT: one muse goes to an art class and is surprised to find the other is the model for the day.

DISCOVERY: our muses are in a graveyard and find an emptied grave.

STUCK: our muses haven't seen each other in years and are assigned to the same room in a hostel.

LOST: our muses go hiking together and get stranded due to an unexpected storm.

#{ prompts. }

❛ sometimes i think you must hate me. ❜

❝ ...can't imagine why. ❞

( oh, her brother was going to kill her for sneaking out to that dumbass party — that is, if this crazy fucker didn't try first. good luck to him. hell, might even be mercy if Bell got to him before she does. )

#{ asked & answered }#{ c: octavia blake }#popularmxnster 🔪 monster vs monster. — billy loomis & octavia blake

stayclser

send in; 🎟️[ticket] for me to make a moodboard with 4-9 photos for our muses/ship.

#{ prompts. }#omg this would be so cute :3!!

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