bloodsoakedheretic

[bloodsoakedheretic]

Plant Gore

TW: Plant Gore, Suicidal Ideation, Arguing with Hallucinations, Major Character Death, Copper, Implied and vaguely referenced Sexual Assault, Violence, Dead City in general, heavy topics.

I made this fucker big so you have been warned! Do not fucking proceed if you can not handle any of the above.

Total Word Count: 2722

It wasn’t often that the kids of Dead City were recovered when they ran off into the distant woods. It wasn’t often that kids went out there to begin with in the first place. It was known to most of the kids as Deadwood, because after you go out there most people just know you’ll never come back alive. Of course everything changes when you have no one left to live for, to fight for. It makes them the destination that your feet drag you to in order to escape the city for the final time, to welcome that death with wide open arms.

It had taken Seth four hours to slowly make his way out after he had been chased from his hideout in the smokestacks. Four hours of stopping at the sounds of distant engines and laying as flat as he could to avoid detection, four hours of gripping a syringe close to use as a weapon if he needed. Four mind numbing hours of feeling his fear spike so hard that his heart felt like it was seizing. When he finally managed to dart into the trees, he almost collapsed from the sudden wave of exhaustion that hit him, he wasn’t used to running for that long anymore. He bit his lip hard, slumping against the tree he was hidden behind, fumbling around in his pocket uselessly until he gripped the lighter and baggie of heroin, along with his spoon. If he didn’t shoot up now, he’d pass out, that wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted to try and make it out, to get free of this damned city, to find a nice quiet spot to lay in and let himself finally fucking die. He didn’t want to turn to his last bit of heroin, but if he needed to in order to keep going before the next patrol car ran through.

He wasn’t gonna let himself be taken again either… especially knowing that there wasn’t anyone left in the city that gave a rat's ass about him anymore. He’d just end up dead for all the shit he put them all through. It wasn’t how he wanted to go out, and he wouldn’t so long as he had any say in the matter.

As quick and as hidden as he could, he got the last of his heroin ready, anxious and looking around every so often to make sure that no one would end up sneaking up on him. He didn’t want to be spotted, he really didn’t. He just needed this to go smoothly, he just needed this last little bit of energy to keep going-

In the distance the sound of car tires hitting gravel sounded, echoing like a haunting whisper through the trees, sending him into a frenzy to kill the lighter and load his needle, not daring to try and use the lighter again as the sounds of the tires grew louder, the low purr of the engine following, he could practically feel the rattle of it as it went through the trees. He fumbled with it, barely managing to stick himself properly and shoot up. His chest was heaving as the tingle washed through him, sparks of his static roaring under his skin, pressing against him in ways that felt as though his skin was about to burst. He could hear the squeal of the breaks as the car stopped, the click of the door opening soon sounding and the engine turning off. His anxiety skyrocketed at the voice of the Copper, and then he felt his heart drop in his chest as the sobbing of a kid was heard.

He laid his head back against the tree, lips mouthing a soft “Fuck” before he chanced a glance. Fuck, he knew the kid. It was that little fuck, Crisis. Ratty ass hair, sunken green eyes, a scar all the way down his cheek that looked like a sloppy “c”. He knew the kid. Of fucking course, he would know the kid. Because that’s how the world worked, he clearly would fucking know the damn kid and would feel guilty if he did fuck all to help the little shit. Because why the fuck wouldn’t this happen when all he wanted to do was leave the god damn city and die without fucking trouble.

“Fucking damn it all..” he muttered, shifting to grab onto his needle again and a branch as quietly as he could. Coppers back was to him, he’d have the element of surprise, but only long enough to give the kid a chance to bolt into the woods. After that he didn’t know what he was going to do, he’d have to get real fucking lucky. As if he had any of that left anymore in the first place. He could still hear the spiel that the sick bastard was on about, saying how cute he was, how much better he would be back at the back room at the station. It made his skin crawl but he waited, until his body shifted back enough that the kid would have space to run. Then he pounced, stabbing the needle into his neck and pulling down hard, the drugs flooding his system with strength he usually didn’t possess. He was able to get Copper off guard, he wasn’t expecting an attack, his static screaming to life under his skin and shocking the cop where their skin connected. He barely managed to get the branch around front to act as a weapon to help him maintain the choke hold.

It was the one shot he had.

“Get the fuck out of here! Go! Into the fuckin woods-” His voice was loud, heavy with all the rage he usually had shown, doing his best to scare the kid into action. He thanked everything good when the kid did as he said, bolting into the woods and vanishing with no trace. Then he felt the elbow connect to his ribs until a crack sounded, pain blossoming violently as he's thrown off and to the ground, the air being knocked out of his lungs and struggling to get back in, only to be forced out once again by a kick in the same place.

He rolled, moving onto his feet and taking off before he recognized him, he didn’t need this today. He didn’t even care when he heard the gun being fired and pain blooming in his shoulder, then again in his back, and finally his hip. He didn’t stop until he was deep in the woods, the sounds of frustrated screams far behind him. It was at that time that his legs gave out, sending him tumbling into the roots and leaves, the shadows starting to jump out more and more and screams starting to ring out in his mind, but he shoved them down.

He tiredly threw his good arm over his eyes, letting out a weak laugh, filled with bitter regret. “Can’t even fuckin run from the city without tryin ta help someone… can’t even wash my hands of it…” His voice was weak, low, edging on broken as he finally let his body give out. “I just want to be able to run off, fuck everyone else, I wanna be free of this fuckin guilt and everything else… I’m so fucking tired… I just wanted to find a nice fuckin place ta die, I don’t wanna do this shit anymore...” 

The whispers crooned over his ears, eyes glazing slightly as he listened. “I know it’s bad of me ta say that Sparky… I know it’s a shite way ta think, but I gotta get out, I can't take this shite no more, I’m done… I’m done…”

More crooning whispers sounded, making a broken laugh leave his lips, he sat up, stubbornly going against his protesting body. “What gives ya the fockin right t’ throw that in my fockin face? I woke up and ya were fockin gone, the fock did you want me t’do?! Ya just fockin left and I looked fer ya and ya were fockin gone! Ya don’t get t’ fockin blame me on shite like that!” He started, a heated glare going to one of the trees, as though someone was standing there, his eyes cold as ice. “Ya don’t get ta throw any of that inta my face when all I’ve fockin done was try an’ be a good brother, ya don’t get ta treat me like shite because somethin ya did yourself!” 

His eyes didn’t move from the spot for several minutes, then the tired look returned to them, his breath suddenly growing more labored as his emotions spiraled. “‘M sorry, shouldn’t be goin off on ya… shouldn’t be fockin yellin either ‘s fockin killin my head..” he murmured, burying his face into his knees for a moment, ignoring the pain that was flaring in his shoulder and across the rest of his back down to his hip. The haze started to leave his eyes and he bit his lip, shaking his head to try and clear it further. He didn’t like when the voices became Marvin, when they looked like him instead of shifting shadows in his mind. He shook himself, standing again and looking around. He didn’t really know where he was, but he knew if he kept on in the same direction, he could get a good way away from the fucking hellscape that is Dead City. Closer to where he wanted to just vanish into darkness, to take a final breath and finally escape it all.

He started to move deeper, ignoring his body's protests and the voices that echoed past arguments around him. Part of him seethed in rage against himself, how dare he be selfish like this when he made it a habit to prevent others from trying to kill themselves like this. He could hear his own voice in the depths of his mind lashing out violently as it could, telling him that he was a real piece of shit to choose this instead of fighting like he told so many others to do even though they had every single reason to give in. It was nearly overstimulating to hear the constant screaming, the distraction it posed soon led him to begin to stumble more, losing his footing and nearly slamming his head into a tree every few feet. He just wanted it to stop, was that too much to ask? To have a fucking break for once in his god damn life, to just have a fucking break where he could feel absolutely nothing and forget about all the pain in his god forsaken existence before it finally fucking ends.

When the voices finished taunting him and his head grew peacefully quiet, his body sagged with the relief which led to him propping himself up against the trunk of the closest tree and finally taking a good look at what was in front of him. Only it caused his eyes to slowly widen in horror at the sight before him. What had probably been a long winding creek was littered with horribly mutilated bodies, cypress knees having impaled them all over, the trees responsible for those damned spiked roots looked to be a deeper red than they should’ve, it was only after he registered what he was seeing that the stench hit him, filling his lungs with the intense scent of horrible rot and decay. If he had anything left in his body to vomit, then it surely would’ve come up as he looked over the area, his heart clenching dangerously as he realized that he knew some of these bodies. These were the missing kids he heard about, the ones that the coppers took, he could tell because all of them were lacking not only clothes, but they had what looked like several gunshot wounds to their small bodies. No one else really used guns like that, if they did they typically didn’t last long.

He found himself falling to his knees, a hand coming up to his mouth as he looked over their sunken features, their names coming as faint whispers in his mind. Sadie. Curls. Curbstop. Towers. Harley. Vick. Slasher. Bloom. Blossom. More and more names came to him as he crawled along the edge, each and every face he recognized becoming like a punch to the gut time and time again. The bodies that had lost their flesh wounding him deeper than the faces, the fear of not knowing who it was clawing at his very soul. Then it felt as though his very heart had completely stopped when his eyes landed on one particular face.

“No- nononono- no- It’s not- no-” He whimpered, throwing his thoughts about his health to the wind as he threw himself into the stagnant water, mind no longer registering everything he was walking through as his eyes were locked on a singular dead face in the cove of dead bodies. It was older than he remembered, hair was choppier, those sweet brown eyes no longer in it’s skull, instead a cypress knee had punctured through its skull and poked out through the eye socket. What struck him was how new the body looked aside from all of that. It wasn’t possible, was it? No, this person couldn’t have… it just wasn’t possible, there was no way, they should’ve been long dead-

But as he finally got his hand to lay on the body's chest and he looked at his ribs, a broken sob left his throat without his consent. “No… no, Luke… no it can’t… it can’t be-” he whimpered, shaking his head more in denial. Even with the damning evidence of scars Sparky once left when he burned their little brother trying to get him out of the way of stray gunshots. There was no possible way this could be their Luke, his Luke. That building collapse, they knew it had stolen their brother from them, there was no way he could’ve lived at all. But clearly he did, clearly he lived long enough to grow into those damn dorky ears and long legs, he lived long enough to be taken by the coppers and held onto until whenever they took him out here and fucking executed him-

He didn’t know what the fuck was happening anymore, what was real, if it was fake. All he could feel was his static shrieking and writhing with his agony. He felt as though he was being electrocuted with every single breath he took, tears pouring down his cheeks before everything snapped in his body at once, throwing back his head and letting out a roar of a scream, every single note riddled with such agony that he felt his throat and vocal cords cinch and rip. His hands came to the back of his neck, nails digging in deep and tearing at the tender flesh, red and blue flashing around him in sharp arcs of lightning, that seemed to only spurr the screams on. When he finally fell silent he found that his body had been glitched back to the shore, his static still shrieking around him. He managed to take a single breath, coughing hard after and blood dribbling from his lips before his eyes rolled back and his body fell limp, blank eyes staring out over the bog riddled with the bodies, his static dispersing in a shower of sparks that sparked flames to one of those damned trees, slowly taking and spreading out.

Unconscious eyes watching the slow destruction of the trees over the bog, causing them to fall into each other and cover them all, leaving nothing but a haunted silence hanging in the air and blood that pooled from his untreated bullet wound around his unmoving form. Now unaware of the stench of burning human remains around him, but it was too late already, their faces were already stuck in his mind, his face was already stuck in his mind.

When he would wake up, hours later, a new host of voices would echo in his mind, the loudest ones belonging to the kids he called his brothers.

[bloodsoakedheretic]

“I saw you close your eyes.”

TW: Non-graphic gore, descriptions of very painful happenings, Soft character being overwhelmed and feeling secondhand pain, Soft Characters cunt of a father, implied abuse, mentions of previous abuse, details of feeling overwhelmed/of a panic attack, parental figure purposely misgendering their ENBY child, based in the 1500′s basically 

Read At Your Own Risk!

The sounds of violins filled the air around the symphony house, keeping a very privileged and serious air around all those in attendance, the conversations held in hushed whispers as to not dare draw attention to themselves in such a rude way. Draîlénûs tugged gently at the knotted bow around their throat, feeling as though the clothes that they wore were starting to grow far too tight around their throat and chest. It was far too constricting, yet they knew better than to voice their discomfort in the slightest. 

After all, they were in the company of their Father tonight. They would not be allowed to be themselves in the very slightest. They were only to be his only son. Even the mere thought made an uncomfortable tingle run through their body, but they were forced to ignore it, just as tonight they would be forced to ignore the tight feeling that would be coming later on. They were brought out of their thoughts by the feeling of a large hand on their shoulder, the touch was firm and harshly familiar. 

“Hello, Father…” They greet, voice soft and low, their fear of speaking too loudly for once not showing as they spoke. “Would you like me to fetch you a glass of mulled wine…?” 

His cold blue eyes stare into theirs, his voice coming out almost too quiet for others to hear for anyone who was not Draîlénûs. “No.” He starts, shifting his grip to their arm in a harsher hold. “You will be watching the sacrifice with me tonight. If I see you look away, you will not enjoy the repercussions, boy. You are my son, it is time for you to act like it and stop frolicking in the meadows and gardens as though you’re a fragile little girl as your mother was. I do not have a weakling for a son. Do I make myself clear, then?” 

A cold flooded their veins, their eyes losing a bit of the ever present joy as they nodded obediently. They can’t go against their Father’s word, nor his orders, even as much as they wanted to. They knew the things he was capable of, they knew that he would disapprove of anything that was not the utmost dedication to his wants and ideals. “Yes, Father… As you wish.” They murmur, waiting until his hand lifts from their arm to move away, but his hand had yet to lift. They lifted their head and felt their heart drop, following his gaze to see the battered body of the poor soul that would be hurt at the end of the night. It made their stomach twist in uncomfortable knots. The body was so broken, the outline of broken bones pressed against their skin and blood had begun to clot underneath the skin.  It made the poor soul look hollow and broken. They hated the sight of blood on the frail form, it made bile rise in their throat.

If they wouldn’t be reprimanded, they would’ve left in that very second. But it wasn’t worth it… it wasn’t worth his anger.

As the night went on, they spent more and more of it near the mulled wine table, praying to someone to hear their discomfort and let a haze settle over them so that they wouldn’t have to think anymore. They were able to make another single trip out to the balcony for some fresh air, letting their prayers be mumbled in a half whisper, but they were soon pulled back inside. Their fruitless prayers went unanswered as the evening began to quickly build itself up to a crescendo. The soft music that had been the background began to soften and fade out, being replaced with the sounds of muffled sobbing and weak tugging on chains. They knew they had no choice but to take their Father’s side, eyes on the person in front of the crowd. They were uncomfortable, it made their skin crawl and a small voice in the back of their head was whimpering to go help, to heal the poor one who was hurt-

But they knew better than to interfere again. The last time they tried something they tried that, their hands had been whipped with an old crop that had metal crimped around the edge that left cuts and bruises, not to mention other things that had taken them two weeks to learn how to heal. As much as it pained them to standby and do absolutely nothing, to watch as the people in the room shifted back and forth, the air filling with the taste of bloodlust… They knew they could only watch on in silent horror.

Any less, and Father would do far worse to them than what any panic attack was even possible of causing.

They started to shift and squirm in place anxiously, doing their best to not make it so glaringly obvious that they were deeply uncomfortable with what was currently happening in front of them as the person's screams began to be audible from behind the gag. Their skin being manipulated roughly until their ribs began to tear through the tender flesh, bathing the room in a deep stench of copper. They almost felt their stomach give way as the scent hit them, their skin losing the slightest bit of coloration, but the sudden sharp piercing gaze from their Father had them doing their best to put up a mask of indifference. Even as the edges of the room seem to start to spin and their head ached from it, they attempted to try and seem unbothered. The brutality on display hurt their heart, sending such vicious waves of pain over them that even their hands began to shake as they gripped at the end of their tight vest in order to feel a semblance of control over everything they were feeling.

The screams and the phantom pains they felt as they watched only got worse, with each and every forced movement of the person before the crowd. By now they were completely discolored, with intricate bruising and broken skin that began to leak a putrid stench that even had some of the more stoic onlookers turn their nose at it. They began to hear the steady chanting from around them, it was the same chanting they heard constantly as a child from the safety of their mothers knowing and protecting embrace. She had always told them to pay no mind to such chatter, that it was foul and horrid things to trifle with, to even be around it was to feel as though you were locked in a deadly vice grip that squeezed the every beauty out of your soul. Now, as they were cast into the middle of such a thing, they knew why. The agony and pain that was attacking them so brutally already suddenly doubled, then tripled. It was only by sheer force of will that they did not collapse under the immense pressure, but that did not mean that they did not want to. The agony was so blinding that tears welled up in their eyes and their breath escaped from their lungs without ever returning properly.

The genuine panic and fear mixed with the otherworldly pain, causing it to curl around them and feel as though they were being crushed alive-

Then the chanting stopped, their eye closing tightly as one last sickening pop was heard from the front of them all. Almost as if nothing at all was the matter, the violins picked up once again, followed by the soft hushed chatter as the crowd dispersed, leaving another to clean up the mess before all of them. They opened their eyes again, feeling a single tear trail down their cheek and all the harsh pressure and pain subside almost instantly. It was almost euphoric how suddenly the agony ceased, it caused them to let their head hang just slightly, a loose bit of hair covering their face. They tried to regulate their breathing once again, taking a sip of the mulled wine to hide the shake in their hands once again.

Then a new wave of dread hit them as from behind their ear, their Father’s voice rumbled dark and lowly to them, and them alone.

“I saw you close your eyes. You will regret that, boy.”

[bloodsoakedheretic]

Lovely

The lights are bright against my face, the mirror shows my reflection. The purple bruises that paint my skin, the ones against my neck, the clear handprint on my shoulder. I can hear the others shuffling outside the bathroom, voices soft and low murmurs to keep attention off of them… I shake my head, the music faintly flows through the air and I know that I don’t have too long here.

The makeup is hardly my skin tone, it’s too bright, but I can’t complain. I was lucky to be given it in the first place. I simply have to bite my lip while I remove the marks from what the eye can see, the dried blue of my blood was the first thing I washed off, meaning it was all a blank canvas, a blank art page for me to make look pretty for someone. If others found out about the marks they would cause a scene, and I couldn’t afford that so far, not when I was okay, the makeup could hide things my lips wouldn’t tell, things my eyes hide so fucking well.

I couldn’t breathe freely, but there was nothing to keep my breath from my lungs. My makeup was perfect for now, the bruises and oddities hidden safely, and as I gazed at my reflection I smiled softly. “This isn’t forever, this will not be my always.”

There’s still a pressing weight on my shoulders, but I brush it aside as I leave the small bathroom, my head bowed as I move to go put my things away, the others sharing the same submissive behavior for now. It wasn’t often that the back room felt so somber, but I knew better than to say anything. We were nothing to the demons on the other side of that stage, we were not the same, we were not their level. We were to entertain.

But we all knew someday we’d all get out of there, the club was in bad condition, some of us had back ups in place, others had small circles they could go to… I didn’t have a plan, or a long term goal… all I had was me…

All I had was me.

And I would get out of here, even if it took a hundred years.

TAGLIST:

@http-anti @nextstep17 @assbutt-of-the-readers @kisstheashes @shatteredartda

[bloodsoakedheretic]

A sneak peek at my planned Goretober writing stuff! It’ll all be written and posted to @bloodsoakedheretic !

[bloodsoakedheretic]

is it,,, perchance too late to join the Proverbs server?

Not at all! It’s never too late! This is an open ARG with no close date!

[bloodsoakedheretic]

1:2

When I was cast into the light upon my creation I heard others call me weaker, lesser, dirt under their shoes. I know I shouldn’t take those words with a grain of salt, after all I am a Master of my own right, but to some, it shows me more than less than capable to do what they can do. Can they bleed into their puppets waiting mouths and watch as they drink it up to become loyal without a fight? Can they impose their will so perfectly with a croon in the ears of their slaves? Do they love those they possess by showing them that the entanglement of strings is their only saving grace?

Or do they show cruelty, demand they show the weak that they are worthy to have their strings? Every second of a puppets life is in honor of their Masters, they need not to show their worth as their only worth is to be a good little puppet and dance as they are told to do so. A Master who says anything else is kidding themselves.

[bloodsoakedheretic]

1:1

What is it to be a master, many ask, what is it to be the God who is charged with striking those pathetic fools down until they grovel and beg for you to take their suffering away?  To be a God means you enforce your laws down upon the masses. You will call upon them to pray in the dark as you strip them of their very existence and break them beyond repair.

You call upon them to walk beside you in the valley of death, as a humble servant ready to smite those who dare dirty your name with lies and the filth of their unloyal tongues.

[bloodsoakedheretic]

1:1

What is it to be a master, many ask, what is it to be the God who is charged with striking those pathetic fools down until they grovel and beg for you to take their suffering away?  To be a God means you enforce your laws down upon the masses. You will call upon them to pray in the dark as you strip them of their very existence and break them beyond repair.

You call upon them to walk beside you in the valley of death, as a humble servant ready to smite those who dare dirty your name with lies and the filth of their unloyal tongues.

[bloodsoakedheretic]

❤️🖤❤️🖤

Long Distance Calls

SUMMARY: Marvin is on a tour and Jackie misses his datemate.

Jackie bounced his leg up and down impatiently as the white dots on screen grew and shrunk. He’s excited: he hasn’t seen Marvin in a few days and that was via laptop. He wished he could see him in person but he was in New York currently.

The dots continued to appear and disappear, only increasing his anticipation. It always took the other a bit to answer, so he wasn’t too worried.

Then the call connected and he was met with Marv’s face. The first thing he noticed was the other wasn’t wearing his signature mask. The second being he’s frowning gently though that wasn’t too uncommon.

Jackie couldn’t help but grin at the sight of him. He misses him so much. “Hey!”

His frown melted away, the tired look in his eyes turning into something gentler. “Hi, Jay!”

“How’re ya doing?”

“Same old, same old. I’m a bit tired from the latest show, but otherwise fine.”

“How’d the show go?” The hero asked. Hearing the other talk about his shows was always something Jackie enjoyed. Marvin just lit up.

Keep reading

[bloodsoakedheretic]

Being part of the social justice culture or the “stay woke” culture, I usually thought that the main purposes were to:

1) Unlearn what was taught to you

2) Learn what was never taught to you

3) Educate those around you with the knowledge you have

[bloodsoakedheretic]

Doing IG stuff in a OOG server just makes the server.... unnecessary.

The ‘IG’ stuff you’re mentioning is something one of my admins brought up and thought it would be a fun way to help everyone not only get to know eachother but to also have them get a glimpse at what the IG will be like so if they’d like to leave before the game started, they could. Instead of them feeling overwhelmed and sick.

I’d really appreciate if you didn’t tell me how to run my ARG, I get that it’s my first one, but I’m simply wanting everyone to have fun.

Plus, to add on: Yes, it’s the OOG, but it’s also mine and I never once said that it happened to be IG. Leave your assumptions at the door and if you have anything to say, I would be happy to receive it so long as it’s phrased kindly. This, isn’t.

[bloodsoakedheretic]

Is this Prophet server for an ARG? If so, what's it about?

Yes! It’s the OOG ARG Server! I wanted to launch today and ensure everyone knew the rules and such before they join the main arg and then,,, probably ignore the rules. While I would hope no one would, I knew it was a possibility so this was me doing this to my best to keep that from happening.

The arg is called: The Puppet Masters Proverbs, and it’s a JSE ARG. There are several GM’s beside myself who are there with me being the ‘Puppet Masters’ and well, what we’re doing is seeing if we could perhaps ‘gain’ a following.

It’s a bit like we’re making fun of some things from religion but all in all, this is something myself and my other GM’s have worked very very hard for. While I know this might not seem like everyone’s cup of tea, we reccomend joing the OOG and reading the rules to see if it’s your cup of tea and seeing if the in person is better than something I type up quickly to give a short summary of something so massive and planned out.

The only thing we really ask: If you don’t join the ARG, just share it for us! Pass the word on and see if more people would be interested in joining! You don’t have to, but it would be greatly appreciated!

[bloodsoakedheretic]

Dance of the Blood Strings

TW: Gore

Keep reading

[bloodsoakedheretic]

Not My Name

TW: Abuse and Gore, torture as well.

Keep reading

[bloodsoakedheretic]

Make A Puppet

A/N:Random Gore at 1am? Yep TW: Gore

Taglist: @kisstheashes @nextstep17 @epicfangirl01 @assbutt-of-the-readers @egopocalypse

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[bloodsoakedheretic]

Dragon Soul Rising

A/N This goes in with my Twisted Disney AU! Follow the blog @twisteddisneyjse

TW: Gore/Slight Gore, Fantasy Violence.

Keep reading

[bloodsoakedheretic]

SOMEONE REMIND ME OF THIS WHILE I WROTE GLITCHED WEBS