Artsyxabbyx - The Official Simp Blog

Chapter 10

Serendipity

Smoke surrounded the small space and Reyna suddenly realized just how claustrophobic she had become. Years of war and leading her armies out in an open space had taught her to utilize the free air. Now that it was limited, she wasn’t sure if her efficiency would be the same as it usually was. It wasn’t often that Reyna found herself in a pinch. There was always another way to get out of a tough spot and better yet another way to survive. This was a whole other story. Reyna let out a quick breath as she lunged at the first woman to her left.

She knew better than to try to take on more than one person at a time, but she also knew that her daughter’s fragile state would cause a hindrance to her own abilities. She had to do what she did best on the battlefield, think fast and act faster. There was only so much time before the dust settled and that would give her just enough time to do the damage and leave.

Aseria found herself panicking slightly at the brief moment of silence before all hell broke loose. The look Marisol gave her before the room gave way to smoke, the way her mother grabbed her by the back of the collar to pull her away from the goons running at her, the way her body stuttered at the sudden intrusion of a blade to her leg. The adrenaline coursing through her veins wouldn’t let her relent against her oppressors. With her back pressed to her mother’s and too much pressure on one calve, she let out a shriek of pain.

“I’ve taken a lot worse than this, c’mon!”

She half whispers to herself, angry that she couldn’t find the strength in her to push through her pain a little longer. Her blonde hair was starting to shed with the sweat, ash and blood that clumped themselves together due to her days of fighting and lack of showering.

If the wound getting infected wasn’t going to be her biggest problem, unknown germs from her surroundings would be. There was nothing her mother could say that would deter her from the fight, but she knew her mother wouldn’t let her make any haste decisions without a quick redirection.

Glancing to the door Marisol ran through, she saw the glint of a blade almost mocking her. Shoving past one of the men, she slid across the floor to reach, completely ignoring her own pain as she let the adrenaline pump through her. Aseria wasn’t as skilled as her mother with the sword by any means, but she at least knew that she could cause a distraction long enough for Reyna to regroup with her.

Throwing the two in front of her for a loop, she made an impulse decision to slam her shoulder into the bookcase beside her, causing dust and wood to obstruct their vision.

Reyna could only do so much at one time. With Marisol running away for some anklet, the smoke finally settling, and the realization that her daughter’s leg had been sliced open and she was nowhere to be found, she found herself struggling to juggle her priorities. It wasn’t until her daughter’s voice rang out in the room, yanking her back into the present moment.

“We need to get you out of here and we need to do it quickly.”

“You know I’m not leaving without you.”

“That wasn’t a request, Aseria.”

Tears began to leak from her eyes. Aseria couldn’t tell what exactly they were from, she assumed it was simply a combination of everything in the moment. The smoke in her vision, the pain in her body, the realization that her mother isn’t going to let her win this argument. Sliding the sword across the floor to her mother, she holds off one of the assailants with a strong kick to the gut.

“Mom I can’t leave you.”

“You’re going to have to. I will meet you in our old safehouse.”

Reyna grabbed the weapon and gave her daughter a quick kiss to the crown of her head, something she did before every battle, just in case it was the last time they were to see each other.

“I love you. Never forget that.”

“You’d better win.”

“I always win.”

She kept her sword in a ready position held in front of her, signaling to the oppressors around her that she was ready to keep fighting. She held the sword with expert precision with both hands, perpendicular to the ground. With the method she once learned that stayed in her mind, burned like the cigarette she lit before they came to this hellhole, she could move the sword side to side and up and down easily, blocking and landing blows in all directions.

Aseria gave her one glance before she began to back away towards the door. There wasn’t much she could do to help with her wound, and she knew her mother could hold her own, so regrouping and getting to the safehouse in one piece was the only thing she could do.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Reyna heard her mother’s voice.

“Hold the tip of the sword at a bit of an angle, with the tip pointed slightly toward your opponent. You cannot falter at a moment like this. Deep breath, now strike.”

She found herself quick to act, stepping up and into the blow, with her arms held against her body. Something her mother taught her when she was her daughter’s age, but with more vengeance than defense in mind.

She reacted quickly and against her more sane instincts, which screamed and told her to move back and save herself while she still had the chance. The fighter in her knew that she couldn’t hold back. Moving closer, she would be able to cut off the woman in front of hers power, meaning she could hold the upper hand while Aseria was running.

Aseria had lost the feeling in her leg as her vision began to fade. As much as she wanted to cry, scream and beg someone to help her, she knew she couldn’t. With the safehouse in view and her mother in the doorway, she let out a relieved huff of breath.

“Thank the gods, just the woman I needed to see.”

With her vision fading out, she found herself panicking a little more, unsure if she could make it to the door in time. She wasn’t sure why her mother wasn’t coming to help her, especially after watching her get wounded. But before she could register the features, she heard the voice of the woman she just escaped from.

“Welcome home, Aseria.”

and i need him because of it

The Tumblr writing community is dying.

It’s something I’ve noticed over the past two years of using this site. It was gradual, imperceptible at first, something that most would brush off as a silly concern, or fault Tumblr algorithm for. While it’s true that Tumblr’s engine leaves a lot to be desired, I’ve noticed that even popular blogs have started to dwindle in terms of interaction or motivation. There could be a lot of reasons for this, but the biggest two I’ve noticed, experienced myself, and asked fellow writers about is this: (1) content being stolen, and (2) lack of feedback or interaction. I’ve never seen any logical person defend content being stolen, so I want to address point 2 instead.

Lack of feedback and interaction. I’m not saying this on my behalf so much as I’m saying this for friends and smaller blogs who have lost motivation to write. I was looking at my yandere writing blogs list the other day and noticed that a good majority of them no longer write. I usually update the list every few months, and by that point, more and more writers have stopped writing entirely. This isn’t a problem confined solely to the yandere fandom; in fact, there’s less writing blogs in general these days, especially ones that are active. I used to run a very popular BNHA blog with some friends, but that dissolved after our content was stolen and our followers stopped interacting as much. Out of our 8,500 followers, we hardly got 0.015% notes (~128 notes) on an average post. Tumblr is to blame for the lack of eyes seeing our posts, for sure, but that also means that at least 128 people saw one post and didn’t leave a comment or ask. We were considered a big blog; imagine what it’s like on a small blog.

My friend recently made a post that summed this up perfectly: 

“I’ve seen people say “Be grateful that people even lurk on your page.” and, while I get the message they’re trying to say, it’s more dismissive and hurtful in my opinion. Like you’re saying, “Oh your writing is mediocre, you should be grateful people even LOOK at it.”

Me personally? I’ve heard the argument that AO3 is a better place to post fanfics, and while that might be true, I’ve had friends experience firsthand the lack of interaction there too. I’ve heard the argument that interacting with some writers is intimidating (me included). I’ve heard that argument that followers might be too shy to interact. I’ve heard the argument that writers should write for themselves and not for views / likes / reblogs / etc, and while that’s ideal, it’s not sustainable for everyone. What works for one writer won’t work for another, but you know what will? Interaction.

That comment or ask that took you 2 seconds to write? We remember it. That reblog with the compliments in the tags? We remember it. Every single ‘named’ anon we get (heart anon, sunflower anon, etc)? We remember them. And the best part is? It’s actually easier to do these things on Tumblr since you have the option to send anonymous asks or make a sideblog specifically for reblogs! Trust me, whether the lack of interaction is the cause of a lack of motivation or what have you, every writer appreciates feedback (don’t be shy to offer some critique or compliments) or even a simple keyboard smash with some emojis. Even sitting down for 5 min a day per week to comment on your favorite writers’ new pieces makes a huge difference. Personally, since Tumblr’s activity feed is beyond terrible and I have over 1,500 posts, I don’t always see new reblogs or comments on my content; asks though? Always see those, can never go wrong with those. If you don’t want to reblog or leave a comment, then you can never go wrong with an anonymous ask. 

As my wise friend says: writing is an art, and in order to improve that art, we need other people’s eyes to see what we don’t.

For the sake of every writer (past, present, and future) on this platform, please share this post.

Not Your Hero (an original work of mine)

There are plenty of words a mother could use to describe her son. Dashing, witty, handsome or strong. If someone were to ask Ximena Armstrong, however, only one of her boys would be introduced in such a proud light. If they asked about the other one, they would receive a strained compilation of complaints that he is vile, twisted, or a hateful beast. There are two sides to every story, though. What made a mother turn her back so quickly?

No one has ever gotten close enough to either party to ask for their side. One thing is for certain, Griffin Emiliano is a dangerous man, and Ximena Armstrong is a pathological liar.

Yet on an uneventful day in Betrothal, a group set out to find the answers to all the possible questions anyone could ask. When they find two boys, an anklet and a pile of bodies, there are too many questions to ask and not enough time for the answers before the doors are busted in and everyone is a suspect.

Chapter 1

“I hate to be the bringer of bad news, but if you run any slower, the snails will escape before we do!” A bellowing voice echoes through the halls of the underground chambers. Clambering behind him, a much softer voice rang out. “I’m sorry! This is my first time performing illegal acts, so sorry I can’t keep up with your vigilante lifestyle!” Turning on his heel, Gryffin casts a stone cold glare to his brother. “Don’t forget why we’re in this mess. You thought it would be a good idea to find the anklet, now three guards are dead and the blood is on your hands, kid.” Looking to the floor, Axel shrinks into himself; “I didn’t mean to…” “doesn’t matter the intention. It is the result that everyone will see. Remember that in everything you do.” Before another word was said, a loud crash brings the brothers out of their tension and drives their attention back to the situation at hand. Escaping certain death and bringing the anklet home to their mother, the smartest archeologist in their village. The winding chambers seemed to be getting slimmer and turning into simple tunnels, but with that, the duo noticed that the end of a tunnel was in sight. With reinforcements hot on their trail, Gryffin roars “Ximena will kill us if she finds out people died for that thing.” “Can you just call her mom?” “Not when she won’t call me her son.” “Well maybe if you-” Axel’s voice is cut off with another crash, the barrels in front of them breaking, causing whatever fruits and vegetables to scatter across the floors and stain their shoes more than the mud could. “Not another step, thief. Such a shame that I’ll have to tear such a pretty face to shreds” A masked man with a gentle but firm voice says, backing his words with a sword pointed to Axel’s face. The mask was unsettling at best, sporting a crooked smile with red teeth and white eyes, it’s a wonder the man could see through it. Though unsettling, he was right about Axel’s face. Unlike his brother, his face was pristine and untouched, his pale skin was a perfect target for a sadistic man such as the one in front of him. Questions hung on the tip of the blade as well as the tip of his tongue he realized it was getting closer, but he hadn’t taken a step. “If I can’t take another step, why can you?” “If I can’t take the anklet, why can you?” Comes the quick retort. “Well, technically you could, you just didn’t take that leap that you needed in order to actually grasp it.” With his sharp words and the tension rising, Gryffin grabbed Axel and made a mad dash for the light they witnessed moments earlier. Axel thrashed wildly, kicking the boxes of fruits and vegetables down to make more of a mess for the masked men to clean up later on. “I’m going to drop you if you keep doing that.” He warns with a scowl. “Right, sorry.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was nothing fancy about the village the boys lived in. Past every market on the left there was an alley that the homeless would find themselves digging through, praying to whoever was out there to spare a little mercy for one more day as they cling onto what little humanity they hold. For the homeless that couldn’t fight their way through, the market’s right side would hold the bodies. It seemed everywhere one turned there was another person riddled by disease and famine. When the people in command were brought to the village to speak their grievances, they were brushed off, laughed at and then given one day’s worth of food for the women and children. Proving that they were simply sitting with another government that couldn't care less for the people under their control, but gave the bare minimum so there were still people able to BE controlled. Griffin hated everything about the village. He could never wrap his head around why so many people still lived in such a ghost town. The people were reduced to nothing more than beggars and thieves with nothing to live for, but had the fight and the iron will of soldiers with the world to lose. Under heavy lids, he drags himself into a makeshift shack, calling it a house for them to stay in as the night ticks by. Axel stared at the ceiling, wondering how long it had been since he saw his brother. His once soft features now hardened with the years of war and murder, tanned skin now scarred and hands calloused. Those green eyes that once shined like stars now cut like emeralds that were thrown to the ground by a child throwing a fit. Black hair that was once short and well taken care of has now grown unkempt and matted. “What is going on in that head of yours?” The man in question growled out. “How old are you now, Grif?” “Twenty three, but you didn’t answer my question. What is the issue?” Axel shakes his head quickly. “I was just wondering what went wrong with us… Why did our family fall apart the way it did? Why did you leave? Why-” Griffin cuts him off swiftly “You ask too many questions, Ax. That will be your downfall.” A deep silence settles across the room after Axel nods “mom says that too.” Griffin lets out a heavy sigh after a while and asks something that he sounds like he has been dreading for a long time. “Where is dad?” Axel stands with a speed like no other and starts for the door. “Ax-” “If you can call that monster our dad but can’t call her our mother then you are no brother of mine.” Confused, angry and a little hurt, Griffin throws the closest object at his younger brother’s feet. “Are you gonna tell me what happened or are you going to let me believe that he was a good man and she was the monster, kid?”

Satosugu vol 0 happy ending sketches ♡

The confidence this Christmas Zoro cosplay gives 😭

the way i would let this man [redacted] [redacted] [redacted] in my [redacted] while he [redacted] all over my [redacted]

i think this is from the manga i can’t find a credit for it

I was watching spanish channel news and the anchor said "until something changes we will be waiting here to report on the next massacre" and those words hit me so hard

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Fearless praying mantis