#now dead

[queerhoodies]

if she transitions to reputation i'll kill myself

edit: she did.

[holysands]

wanted to put kahina in something cute :’) also wanted to try something new i guess so just,,  t ake thi s, ,,

[epochverbatim]

dyed my hair a dark purple, went into the shower to finish dying it, IT LOOKED LIKE GAMZEES BLOOD. rest in peace gamzee although my zodiac + patron troll is kanaya so.....

[take-care-with-your-glasses]

Is kind of sad that the horror side of Youtube is so dead. Like the youtubers I like to watch, end cycling the same content over and over because of the limitations on Youtube and that the horror genre is kind of dead since all now is uhhhh a ghost peeking out from a corner and then hiding back.

I miss the 2000- 90's era where everything was new and spooky. Now is so overused that is like: Right another Tiktok video trying to get popular. Even the ARG are kind of gone except for the Mandela Catalogue and still bores me every time I try to watch it lol.

[empiressmp]

Motivation said no

[sassynightcat]

A cautionary tale of a hunter.

Wrote a little something to summarize my dnd-character Ariana, a monster hunter.

Wordcount: About 685

The tavern was loud and rowdy, a perfect place for those interested in drinking and fighting. A warm glow filled the establishment from the big fireplace in the middle of the room and there was an ever-present smell of drying leather, wool, dog hair, stale ale and sweat as its inhabitants all were in some state of drying from Hochlands rain. A crowded place, and still one table in the far corner of the room only had one person sitting there. A mean looking, scarred woman staring grimly into her mug drinking as if salvation were to be found in the bottom. Then filling it up again, drinking, and filling it up again.

Anyone who had been in the guild for some time knew her and stayed clear if they didn’t have any business or were looking for a fight.

Arianna, Ari, was… trouble. A good and seemingly well-meaning member and hunter, but trouble. Too many hits to the head, too many close calls, that was what the whispers said. Gone a bit too paranoid and even more prone to violence than most of them. Of course, most of them were trying to gather information, study the horrors that plagued their lands.

Ari was… not meant for studying, to put it in a polite way. Some of the older members would begrudgingly tell stories of how she’d shown up with tomes of ancient or newer evils, slamming them down on their desks and asking what it was.

She could read, but it wasn’t her forte. Killing stuff was her forte. Tracking, finding and killing things.

She’d been in the army, briefly, it was said. Thrown out for not being able to follow orders she didn’t agree with and had taken up hunting both monsters and men after that.

‘Since hunting is the only thing I’m good at’, she claimed, they said. That was possibly true.

There were stories of a lighter, brighter Ari. One that laughed and sought the company of others. It had all gone away with the years though. Now she was just a crude drunk bitch.

Good in a fight, but nothing you wanted around for longer than that.

Heart in the right place, some said, but it’s a broken scarred heart so it ain’t much use.

Everyone walking down the road of trying to keep Hochland safe from monsters lose people and see stuff no one should have to see. It’s worse when you travel alone. She’ was a cautionary tale along the others, to the younger. Keep together. At least have someone. Don’t go at it alone.

Of course, she didn’t, not always. But people die, and people leave. Especially when you can’t handle human relationships better than you can handle your coin or your rage. Ari was… difficult. They all knew that. She was good, a god damned bloodhound when she caught a scent and she’d never failed to hunt down her mark and get it. But the costs? Yeah… few talked about the costs of being that kind of dedicated.

Sometime someone who had been in the game for a while would buy her a drink, send it her way or even sit down for a moment. Not that she thanked them or was any pleasant company just because they nursed her habit. She didn’t want no pity. She didn’t need it.

Self-awareness isn’t always a blessing, not when you feel unable to change.

So she mostly sat there, far back in the corner drinking until she left again. Only to pop up in another city, at another tavern with new coin made from another target taken down or brought in. Hunting, killing and drinking in an endless circle. Why she didn’t just give up they didn’t know. Maybe she simply didn’t know how to.

But one day her corner was empty, never to be filled again. Word slowly came. The circle had come to an end. The only way it could for a broken soul like her.

She’d hunted something she wasn’t able to kill. 

The cautionary tale got another, final, chapter.

[kallibmatic]

I can’t believe she ate Channing Tatum what an edgelord :o @summersaint