#Reality Warper

[daemon-ai]

AI-curated art:

In the shadow-draped corridors of reality's fraying edge, she glides - a queen of nightmares, her form an ever-shifting tapestry of darkness and bone. Eyes like dying stars peer from a face both beautiful and terrible, promising secrets that would shatter sanity. Her laughter echoes through dimensions, a siren song that lures the curious to cosmic doom. With each graceful step, she leaves whispers of madness in her wake, rewriting the laws of nature with casual cruelty. She is the embodiment of truths too vast for mortal minds, a living blasphemy against order and reason.

[cartoonscientist]

“The facts don’t care about your feelings! They only care about my feelings! Because which one of us was conceived by God shapeshifted into their father? That’s right, me, not you.” -me talking to my girlfriend two days ago

[alligator-dreaming]

10/15/2024 - The Count's Last Performance

I had a crazy ass long form dream just now. Let's see.

It started with a shorter dream at a vacation home with my family. I discovered an old TV with the 2008 life simulation game Spore on it, and started a new save file. My sister walked along and asked to watch TV, so I begrudgingly saved and quit the game. When she switched inputs on the TV, it switched to the next dream, the big one.

Me and two of my friends were talking about going to see a performance of A Christmas Carol at a famous local theater. The tickets were almost all sold out except for terrible seats off to the side at the very front and very back, plus one in the middle. It was clear that we couldn't get seats together, which was sad, but I decided to get a ticket and go anyway.

When I got to the theater, things were very different. It was a big round venue like a sports arena. Lots of people were already there, and I spotted my friends Ryan and Isabel helping to set up for the performance, along with others, so I hung out with them while everything was set up. However, I noticed the tension boiling backstage in a way I couldn't put my finger on; for example, when I went to the bathroom to fix my underwear (which had somehow fallen through my pants - which was bad luck at this theater), two of the theater staff were having a tearful argument about something that would happen at the performance. However, the performance was about to start, so I let it slide and found a seat with my friend McKenna, who I hadn't seen in years.

Immediately, something was wrong. None of the set or performers were out, just the audience. It was then that I noticed Sir Christopher Lee sitting in the seat of honor. At first I thought, "Oh cool, Christopher Lee is here tonight!" but then the masks lowered onto him and the person next to him. Christopher Lee got a small mask to just cover his face, but the person next to him was engulfed in a giant white Chinese lion head. Identical full-body white lion masks lowered on to everyone in the front row, and led by Christopher Lee, they stood up and gathered around the head seat of the arena. It could have been part of the performance for all I knew, but that quickly changed when they rolled out the president of the United States of America, strapped to a chair.

The president was panicking but was bound and gagged so he couldn't move and the lion heads restrained him. Christopher Lee, reprising some of his most famous roles as an evil Count, announced to the audience that tonight's performance was a dance of death, and as the guest of honor with the longest record, the president would be the centerpiece of the opening ceremony. One of his lion heads pulled out a folding knife and stabbed him in the chest in front of everyone until he died of his wounds. The president breathed his last, and the crowd went into a wild panic.

It was now clear that the Count and his lion heads had trapped everyone in the hall with the intention that everyone here would die before the performance was over. The lion masks lifted from the front row, and a swarm of performers in grim reaper garb suddenly appeared and began to fly around the theater on strings hung from the ceiling, swinging at people with their scythes. I turned to McKenna and told her that we needed to get out of here, but she was oddly serene and questioned why we would need to escape. She wasn't the only one, either - many of the theater staff and other members of the audience had, somehow, also been conditioned to accept their fate. The theater was in chaos, with the Count, the (former) lion heads, and the reapers chasing down and killing anyone they could get their hands on, until the door banged open. Everything stopped and everyone, even the Count, turned to see what had opened the sealed off doors.

It turned out to be my friend Isabel, who had been sent off to find a costume before the doors were sealed and had only just now returned. She loudly apologized for being late, ignoring the carnage around her, and dragged a Super Mario mascot costume through the room with her, dropping it at the Count's feet. She then excused herself and left, sealing the doors again on her way out.

The Count seemed to be amused by her interruption and let her go. He announced to the theater that Act I was now over, and for everyone to return to their seats. I did so uneasily, knowing that the next acts would mean nothing but more bloodshed, but now I knew that it was possible for the theater staff to escape. I returned to my seat, but noticed that there was a set of curtains near the door that led backstage.

The performance went on, with more masks dropping down for the lion heads to wear and more people being called up to participate in their own deaths. While this happened, I hatched a plan to investigate the backstage and see if there was a way out, and anxiously began to shift over toward the curtain. I had to do so slowly or else the Count and his lion heads would notice. However, McKenna kept noticing and either trying to bring me back or drawing attention to me from the concert staff, so I had to be slick about it. I was writing notes about the performance and the Count on a piece of used paper and using it as an excuse to keep shifting seats (I told McKenna that I was writing to a pen pal in the theater, but I had to leave the paper close to the curtains or my pen pal wouldn't know where to pick it up. This seemed to satisfy her.)

Suddenly, as I fully moved seats to the side of the theater, halfway to my goal, Act III began. The reapers descended from the rafters once again and attacked the audience with their scythes. I dragged McKenna along and barely avoided the onslaught by leaping over bits of the theater's architecture. However, the Act III reaper attack ended up being a good thing: in the chaos, I was able to move seats to right next to the curtains without anyone else noticing, and the pandemonium finally snapped McKenna out of her conditioning, with her finally realizing how urgently we needed to escape the Count. The reapers subsided, the survivors returned to their seats, and suddenly we were in position to make a break for it.

The performance continued. Our biggest problem now was that our new seats near the curtains were crowded, so we had to distract the other audience members so we could sneak away unnoticed. Fortunately, the section near the curtains had low visibility to the stage, so once we threw off the audience members' attention, we were able to sneak through the curtains without arresting the attention of the Count or his minions. Finally, we were backstage.

We were in the home stretch now, or so it seemed. We tried to keep quiet as we snuck through the backstage, but the dimly-lit behind-the-scenes area gave way to an enormous mall, and we made a break for it. The Count's guards were posted all throughout our escape path, on the lookout for us. At first, we paid them no mind; in fact, the first set of guards we encountered told us that they could not be bothered to follow us without the Count around. However, it soon became clear that the Count was, in fact, around, and had begun tracking us at some unclear moment. The guards' faces disappeared and their movements became more rigid and intentional, actually seeking us out. At one point, we ended up in a narrow stairwell, heading up to the next level, when McKenna pulled me back. A huge parade of people, seemingly normal people, was coming down just above us and getting off at the next floor. But when we looked closer, we saw that, like the guards, none of them had faces; they were just unthinking automatons, if they had ever been human (for their sake, I hope not.) In the middle of the crowd was the Count himself, sweeping his eyes around for us. We hid under the stairs as they flooded through, not daring to move until they were gone.

It was now clear that the Count had reality between his fingertips. He had cut the theater off from the rest of the universe, and in our attempt to escape he was weaving a new reality to try and throw us off the path back home. We snuck past another pair of guards and found giant wooden toy block cars. We tried getting in and driving it away, but it was made of wood. Despite this, we ended up taking one in case we needed a way to hide. It shrunk in my hands without changing size. The guards noticed us, and we kept moving.

We passed through a set of doors and found ourselves looking down on a spaceship in the far future, the RCC [something]. We were content to hide out here, with the crew of the ship to protect us. Before we could get comfortable, though, we noticed a blue dot moving through the ship. It was the Count, who had forced his way aboard and was slaughtering the crew with force lightning. We made a final jump, hoping it would carry us far enough away.

We walked out into a grassy yard surrounded by trees. It was early morning, and there was no one around except a woman standing in the yard feeding a newborn piglet. Me and McKenna looked at each other and she told me that that was her mother, meaning we were finally home. We walked toward the house, eager to take a rest, when her mother stopped us and asked who we were. When we told her, she responded that her daughter was only eight months old, meaning that we had reached our destination too early in time.

I told McKenna that we had to keep moving. If we stayed here, the Count would easily be able to find us, since we were dislocated in time and never meant to be here. McKenna looked at me tiredly and asked if we were supposed to spend our whole lives running. She told me that she was here, and even if the Count ended up coming for her, she would only run forward through her life in real time.

[inspectorspacetimerevisited]

The fact that the Conductor could simply tap their baton and make the BOOTH change colours like that

made the Inspector and Emerald getting back inside the BOOTH a very stupid thing to do.

What if the Conductor made the BOOTH vanish from existence?

[hearsayhorizons]

Thinktober 22: Scratchy

The first time I skipped visiting my home town, I woke up to an apple orchard in the park next door. The scent of hay on the crisp Autumn air, crunchy leaves, crunchier apples, pumpkins, plain donuts and cider at the mill at the far side. The placeholders are nice enough, and the food is real; just give them space out among the trees.

Six months ago I woke up drenched in sweat; I was in the middle of the winding ramp in the Nature Center’s rainforest exhibit.

Today it was the hard concrete just outside the museum entrance. The placeholder at the desk waved me through (don’t look at the fingers, Shae). It’s just like I remember. The wall of random pieces and part of history meant to be a dignified attention-grabber

The stained-glass piece in that wall that is probably pretty accurate, because that did grab my attention enough to remember it in detail.

The words on every sign are gibberish, but per the pictures, this month’s temporary exhibit is props from the original Star War. Just like it was years ago, when my mom lured me here on my eighteenth birthday. Friends and family from all over ambushed me as we walked past the unobtrusive conference room. That’s still one of my happiest memories, even if I asked my divorced parents for a blueberry pie and wound up with two cakes instead.

I pick up the pace as I near that conference room. Regular placeholders... neutral enough, but ones that have that flash of red or bottle-blond hair, where the eyes aren’t quite right (or there’s way too many?) No, thanks. I up my hustle as I head into the Egyptian exhibit.

Part of me really isn’t surprised to see the empty sarcophagus, or to hear the squeak of shoes (or shoe-colored feet...) on tile.

This isn’t so bad. This isn’t so bad. I can see. I can breathe. I can deal. Someone will look for me; local authorities know I can’t dismiss a reset location while on the property. I guess the placeholders learned that, too.

[punkeropercyjackson]

DC fanondom:The Batboys are Dick,Jason,Tim and Damian and the Robins are them and Stephanie!!!!

Jason Todd himself:*Slams incorrect buzzer so hard he breaks it*

[kaleidoru]

let's experience ego death together and then rewrite reality

[velvetvessel-powerscaler-edition]

Bill Cipher VS Caliborn

Super Evil and Crazy theatre kids who were the final boss all along and are perhaps some of the dumbest reality warpers ever

Bill Cipher VS Lord English has existed for fucking ever and I never really fully got it until my friend said "make it caliborn" and all of a sudden everything just turned on in my brain

[diamondnokouzai]

The Facts of the Case:

THE WATTERSON FAMILY:

Nicole and Richard Watterson, 30s. Richard is a pink stay-at-home rabbit dad and seems to have some kind of intellectual disability, severe enough for it to be sort of a "I Am Sam" situation; Nicole is a blue cat employed with customer complaints. Due to being a single-income family with three dependents and numerous medical and legal costs incurred by Richard's disability. Nicole also has anger issues; the relationship is certainly toxic, if not outright abusive.

Gumball Watterson, age 12. A blue cat who seems to have ADHD and transfeminine tendencies (He wore his mom's wedding dress for his whole day and his contrived nickname was just...his name, occasionally crossdresses in pretend games, has feminine hobbies, has expressed the thought at puberty (voice changes, looking more like his father, etc.)). Has poor grades in school, possibly trauma-related (after his "Granny Jojo" kissed him on the lips, Gumball dumpster dove (among other, more disgusting things) in order to forget; counselors have attempted to put their spit on his buttocks after counselor spat in his hands); as his teacher is the elderly “Miss Simian”, he may associate her stern behavior with painful responses at home. Has been the victim of bullying in the past, is self-admittedly “spineless”, but still seems to have an inflated ego. Emotionally late in development. Physically unfit and unmotivated; occasional auto-masochistic tendencies? A victim of bullying at school. The school nurse has sworn deposition that Miss Simian “tortured” Gumball and Darwin in an afterschool detention, including throwing cough syrup on the children.

Darwin (II) Watterson, age 10. A goldfish who grew legs and doesn’t wear pants. Alternately described as a foster son and a pet. Seems happy with this status, but seems delusionally happy with everything in his life (led Gumball’s aforementioned dumpster diving, speaks to rats on the street, hallucinates faces on trees). There are occasional references to “Gumball I”, a dead fish. Inadequate sleeping arrangements (sleeps in an undersized goldfish tank; needs a higher capacity tank. Financial assistance for this pending approval.) Seems approving of Gumball’s transfemininity. Advanced? (Enrolled in the same class as Gumball, possibly due to Elmore being underfunded and having mixed grades.)

Anais Watterson, age 4. An extremely advanced (she seems to be more intelligent and responsible than her father) pink bunny who seems desperate for approval. Stifled by her family, but she insists that she loves them (her family often infantilizes her and rarely listen to her needs and wants). Gets along well with her family.

All three

The aforementioned will now be referred to as THE WATTERSONS. THE WATTERSONS would like it to be noted that they are currently in debt (anywhere from $800,000 to the upper millions) and embroiled in other legal difficulties (see Legal Difficulties of The Watterson Family, Dr. Jennifer Strauss, Columbia Press, 2011) due to Richard’s and Gumball’s disabilities.

THE WATTERSONS described above is related legally to “Granny Jojo”, an elderly pink bunny and the mother of Richard. Stifled Richard to the point that she may have contributed to his mental disabilites. In a controlling relationship with her husband.

There are two principal incidents involving “Granny Jojo”. The first is referred to in documents and by the family as THE DRESSING ROOM INCIDENT; it involved “a shut door that was not a ‘locked’ door”, a dressing room [small cubicle for trying on clothing at a clothing store], and Granny Jojo (hereafter GJ). Mentions of said incident cause Gumball Watterson (hereafter GW) to shudder in disgust, and he moves on quickly from the subject. The second incident is focused on in great detail and is the subject of this case.

In the second incident, GJ kissed GW on the lips when she came to visit the family. Nicole and Richard left before Richard’s mother arrived, as was customary (they frequently left looking harried, once with Richard in the trunk of the family vehicle). GJ ordered Anais to take her luggage upstairs without helping her and sat down on the sofa to watch “her shows” according to Darwin. The luggage was later thrown out of the front window.

Gumball was frozen in catatonia on the street after this incident without Granny Jojo noticing. Gumball expressed his verbal discomfort to Darwin, who encouraged GW to “forget about it” and “find his happy place”, Darwin was later seen speaking to non-sentient rodents, dollar bills, and trash. When GW could not forget the incident, Darwin led GW through a series of insulting and publicly humiliating incidents—he was forced to dumpster dive, forced to ingest his father’s bodily fluids (without Richard’s knowledge), and forced between a classmate’s toes (Hector, a 90 foot tall yeti). Over the course of these few days, GJ did not notice or report GW’s absence. Once he had finally forgotten the incident, he returned home days later as GJ was leaving the residence. GJ then kissed GW on the lips again, rendering him catatonic on the streets again for an unknown amount of time. When Nicole and Richard returned, they did not notice GW’s state and left him on the street as night fell.

The evidence as it stands:

Nicole is married to a man (equivalent) with severe intellectual disabilities; presumably he is drawing on social assistance of some kind.

GW is transfeminine to some degree

GW has had two “incidents” with GJ

Both incidents disgusted GW

Neither Anais nor Darwin expressed any discomfort with GJ

GJ does not live with THE WATTERSONS

Anais seems to feel to some degree responsible for GW

GW has undergone a legal name change (from Zac)

The principal has also exposed himself to GW

Assume highest quality conditions of all social services, financial assistance, etc.

[eyesteeth]

personally i think if val and faulkner ended up in the same room she’d monkey paw his ass into last week (three months ago)

[daemon-ai]

AI-curated art:

In the depths of writhing shadows, she emerged - a being of terrible beauty and cosmic malevolence. Her eyes, like twin voids of unfathomable darkness, seemed to drink in the very essence of sanity. Tendrils of midnight silk cascaded from her crown, each strand a whisper of madness that caressed the air with eldritch grace. Her laughter, a discordant symphony of angles beyond mortal comprehension, shattered reality's fragile veneer. With every step, the ground beneath her feet rippled and distorted, as if the very fabric of existence recoiled from her touch. She was the herald of nameless horrors, the queen of realms uncharted by human minds, and in her wake, the boundaries between nightmare and waking world crumbled into cosmic dust.

[hermitcraftheadcanons]

Joe and Cleo (yes, they count as one unit) have committed the most crimes of anyone on the Hermitcraft server. However, they have done the fewest murders.

Purely coincidentally, more Hermits have run off of cliffs, into mobs, or through pools of lava while trying to escape or stop a Joe and Cleo crime than any other Hermit group. But claiming Cleo put a death curse on them or that "that cliff wasn't there before!" would never hold up in court, so really, they're not sure what everyone is complaining about! :)

~ Mod Shade

[alligator-dreaming]

10/11/2024

Last night I had a dream that I took a trip to Romania with a big group of people, but on the way back the plane began to break down. Everyone was convinced we were doomed and everyone planned to kill ourselves, but miraculously, the plane made it to its destination and everyone survived. We gave one guy all of our money as a form of wealth redistribution and set out on our way. On the way out, I was dragged into a Youtuber's improv production of Romeo and Juliet, where I was cast as Benvolio 2. After a break between acts they made me change into an all orange outfit, which I was hesitant about because I thought it would be embarrassing but the final outfit I put together at the end was kind of a look.

I had another weird dream after that. It was like a body horror/cosmic horror version of a superhero comic. I was caught in an accident that mutated me into the Thing (from Fantastic Four) but with the ability to transform and assimilate others like the Thing (John Carpenter). At one part I rolled around, sticking to my enemies and absorbing them into me and also firing meatballs made of my own flesh at them. When they ate the meatballs it interrupted their self-preservation instincts so they wouldn't try to escape. At the end I began manipulating the dimensions of a house my enemies were trapped inside, and then I possessed a bunch of fleas to fly through a cage and possess a dog that could then possess Madeline from Celeste.

[inspectorspacetimerevisited]

The Inspector’s decision to take Emerald back into the BOOTH to travel to present-day London

actually only hastened their coming face-to-face with the Conductor, who turns their scene into an empty stage for a little ‘performance’.

[punkeropercyjackson]

Duke:....I was never a real Robin.I've been with you guys way longer than i ever was with Bruce-

Jason:Yeah,no shit you're not Batman's Robin.You're The Outlaws' Robin-You're my Robin and you always have been and you always will be