#WHITE WORM CATHEDRAL

[onlyhurtforaminute]

NECROPHAGIA-FEAR THE PRIEST

[ian-thebean]

Alec x Maurice good mood goofin

for my darling romantics

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

Snapping fabric and wandering fingers. The smell of dirt and the hot breath of midnight. Oh, spare me your dusty libraries and muted halls! Your vaunted cathedrals and the clack-clack of quick steps on worn stone are nothing to the softness of the night sky. Pity the lovers, those poor, filthy rich lovers, who laugh and chat floating down a manicured canal. Pity the glances over books, the stolen caresses, the man who is served a pittance and fancies it a feast.

White linen afraid of moss, salad forks made from stolen gold. Pity them, my love. Turn from their aching eyes into my sturdy arms. Hold me tight as we crash into the earth and nestle among the worms and rotting leaves. The blonde face of Cambridge is pale as parchment in the light of the drunken moon. Can Plato’s threadbare musings bring you anything but distraction? Anything but the recycling of philosophical sentiments must be hunted down in the chattering of the night-singing birds. Take my face in your hands and tell me that you’d give it up again, for there is no sweeter sound. Even the softness of your lips cannot compare to your vow to exist for me and I for you. Hand in hand, step for step, advance with me into the wildness of the woods. Kiss me with apricots in your mouth and dirt beneath your fingernails; let me see the velvet black of your suit streaked with mud and torn by bramble-bushes. Show me the man beneath the bowler for there is a fire in him that deserves to be laid bare and fed until it sets the world ablaze. Treasure the heat-kindling of my devotion until it consumes all that we’ve left behind. For you, for your breath on my neck, I here abjure the sun that shines on the new world. The fog, the cold, the rain I embrace for the sake of your split knuckles and gentle words. With the crack of cricket bats and sweat of midday, I declare that my love for you will last until the last tree on earth is blown down. 

[belzimbub]

The lack of essays about The Binding Of Isaac, a game that is literally a giant metaphor for everything, made me create my first English-speaking video. I hope you enjoy!

Text version of the video below:

Let's start from afar.

Every year the channel Nanda V Movies invites essayists to tell about their favorite scenes on a particular topic and then adds all their videos to one playlist. This way giant love letters are created that introduce us to moments from movies, TV shows and sometimes even video games. I wanted to participate but for a long time the previous topics were… difficult for me: One Musical Scene and One Villainous Scene. Which is weird because video games are full of great music and insidious bosses. For example, my dear series Like A Dragon is a wonderful combination of both of these things. Nevertheless, I didn’t have some personally impressive example to create an entire video… until recently. After a couple years from its release I was able to play the final expansion to one of my favorite game, The Binding Of Isaac. And this DLC is what gave me the boss, the villain that I keep thinking about, even when I turn off the screen.

Isaac and his Mother lived alone in a small house on a hill. Isaac drew pictures, played with toys and his Mom watched Christian broadcasts on the television. Life was simple, and they were both happy. That was, until the day Isaac’s mom heard a voice from above, telling her to kill the son. And she wasn’t going to disobey the Lord. To save his life, Isaac threw himself down into the basement and embarked on a journey into the unknown depths below. The depths where… there are a lot of bosses and all of them know how to impress. Worms, excrements, demons — I remember my first encounters with each monster. And sure, most of them are nothing more than obstacles in the way of the player. But some manage to stand out. Going deeper we’ll meet creatures that boggle our mind a bit: the nonhuman versions of Mother, Isaac as a hostile angel, the white face indiscreetly called Delirium and etc. After defeating the bosses of this type, the cutscenes are shown that reveal to us not something that is not obvious, but something we don’t want to think about.

Of course, there are no caves, catacombs and the cathedral under the Isaac's house. The Binding Of Isaac is a fantasy of the child. The child imbued with religious ideas who goes through the parents’ divorce and blames himself for all the sins. Those bosses that I mentioned earlier bring out Isaac as a character: the lack of motherly love, self-loathing and the traumatized, wild side of the psyche. I love this game for such imagery and the same can be said about the people who worked on the DLC Repentance. And that’s why I am sure that when coming up with a new boss they had a question: «How to make it as artistically rich as others?» Thankfully, they found an answer and it was quite simple. You use what lies right before people's eyes.

With Repentance, the alternative routes will appear in the game that have most of the new content. One of these routes will lead us to Dad’s note and begin “Ascend”, the most overtly plot-driven moment in the entire game. For the first time we have an opportunity to visit locations in reverse order, and, rising higher and higher, we experience the most painful memory — the parents arguing because of Mom’s religious mania and Dad’s alcoholism. We go through several floors, return to the very beginning and then we see… The Isaac’s room. Not the weirdest thing as we could see it even in the depths. But everything seems… different. We leave the room and we are greeted not by the catacombs but by a hall, a closet, a TV room and Mom’s bedroom. We go to bed, wake up in the middle of the night from a terrible vision and approach the light in the middle of the gloom house.

The first thing I’ll say is this boss looks awesome and very natural. The Binding Of Isaac style is based on this balance between cartoonish and disgusting. And some monsters, in my opinion, go overboard with one or the other. But the battle with this fetus made of noises, with its umbilical cord sticking out of the screen, feels right. It doesn’t mean that Dogma is unoriginal. Quite the opposite, its design exudes attention to details. If you put some effects on the boss, the static will suddenly get worse. Sometimes Dogma turns for a couple of seconds into 4 images, symbolizing the 4 horsemen of the apocalypse. And speaking of religious imagery, its attacks include the qualities of both angelic and demonic items. And this connection between holiness and blackness is punctuated by the sound design. Remember my whole tirade about “One Musical Scene” and so on and so forth? Well, Dogma has one of the most unique musical themes that I have ever heard. The song is full of noises and static which after a while come out like an explosion, emphasizing the full power of the boss. And after the destruction of the TV and the start of the second phase, the battle becomes unforgettable thanks to…

The preacher's screams begin to be heard, warning of the wrath of God, saying that you need to atone for your sins and that blasphemy will not be forgiven! This voice passes from one ear to the other while we are trying to dodge the rays of light. By the way, they were perfectly described by a commentator on Youtube: these rays sound «both heavenly and like impending doom». And in the middle of this beautiful cacophony you may not notice the quiet reading of the psalm. Dogma tries to convey to us that in both life and death we can put our trust in God, while using the most sinister voice in the whole game (even though the Devil is in it!):

Well, as you can see, this boss's presentation is pretty cool. But let's return to the previous question. «Is Dogma "artistically rich?"» Yes, absolutely. Firstly, its concept is simply witty. Taking a line from the intro about «Christian broadcasts» and turning it into a monster — muah, beauty. Secondly, even though the player has yet to battle the final boss, I think the most important moment in the game is the fight with Dogma. Let me be a literature teacher. As I said, The Binding Of Isaac is a fantasy of the child, and this fantasy is based on his worldview. In Isaac's understanding, he is a demon, a sinner who deserves punishment from the highest powers. He does not doubt the fairness of his suffering, because it is more logical than the fact that the family could simply end. But at one point Isaac decides to face reality, to remember those terrible shouts of his parents, which allows him to fly back up. He looks back at what he experienced, what story he created for himself, and asks the question: «Where did it all begin?» «Ascend» marks the beginning of Isaac's doubts about the truth of his beliefs.

Beliefs that later take shape as Dogma, whose cries of God's wrath now seem wrong. It becomes clear that the faith of the self-critical boy was distorted by the television. The child's curiosity, his love for monsters and dressing up turned into sins leading to eternal torment. And as soon as the family tragedy occurred, this idea became true for Isaac. And that's why it's important to see him resisting Dogma. He understands that he does not deserve pain for his interests, that religion was used against him. And I hope he also stops blaming himself because these programs played a bigger role in Mom's mania and Dad’s abandonment than any of Isaac's hobbies. After defeat, Dogma turns into a cross of noise and falls on the hero, at last trying to destroy him from the inside. But it fails, and for the first time Isaac himself becomes an angel. All that remains is to defeat his last figment of imagination, and not as a punishment, but as a final trial.

I recommend you to play The Binding Of Isaac. Not only because the gameplay is fun and you can spend hundreds of hours on it. Not only because, in fact, I did NOT spoil a ton of things and there is more for you to see. But because the game is a giant pile of metaphors that wants you to use your imagination. For example, for me, Dogma is the main villain: it combines the best aspects of the game, and the worst moments in Isaac's life are directly related to this boss, making defeating it feel like a real climax. Maybe you also have some ideas on this or any other matter? Maybe even something worthwhile, but thoughts about your own mediocrity turn creativity into a nightmare? It’s funny, because of something like this, I couldn’t participate in one YouTuber’s project. But now, I’m finally finishing this text and I can say without a doubt the following: give yourself one more chance.

[madds-is-ace-trash]

Time for Chapter 7!

Chapter 7: To anger the storm is to get struck by lightning

Summary: Gotham handels sum rats, danny…. the poor baby, and conner gets some news that makes his heart sink.

Hey y'all guess who got a proof reader!

The lovely and super kind @itsallgoingtopot on tumblr! please send them some love.

Ok so this chapter is me having fun with gotham and some more set up. To the person in the comments who suggest that conner should kick the GIW ass….thanks for the brain worms time for big bro superboy.

The night crept on and the storm swelled over the cathedral, the rain deterring any of her wards or her people.  The ground wept in excess as the rain reached its limit.  The clouds settled low in the sky. Thunder rolled, sending  static through the earth itself.  Then the van the men had attempted to take refuge in blared. 

  “Holy Smokes!” One of the men shouted as he clambered out of the shrieking van. All devices in the van began to fire due to the excess energy. The wind whirls, soaking the man to the bone. 

  “G come look at this reading!” 

  “H you're insane, get out of the van! You're gonna get hur-'' All the ghost detectors on the van began to sing in their clamoring chorus.  Sending the screeching sound into Gotham's stormy sky. She traps it, not letting it travel too far. For if it were to fall upon the ears of her new ward he would surely flee. 

  “H, please, I swear to god! Get . Out.  Of . The . VAN!” The man begged his partner as he reached to pull him out himself. Gotham pulled back her storm just enough to allow the men to set themselves free, the pair standing with their hands over their ears in the middle of the flooded street.  

  She hisses, seeming to shake the very ground itself, but Gotham has control, and only the corner the white rats had decided to hide in is affected. Across the vast city her bats have begun their nightly flights, and she needs to dive the vermin out before they come her way. 

  —------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  The wind fizzled out with a pop in his ears, but his soaked suit was a constant wetness weighing heavily on his chest. Agent H had been trained in handling ghosts and he knew some of them could get violent. But this was something else. The readings on the meter had been off the chart. Whatever this thing was, they had entered its turf and were clearly not welcomed.

  The static grew, making the agent feel as though his head were about to explode. The storm itself fell from the sky, encasing him and his partner in the dense gray and purple fog. His lungs felt heavy. It became increasingly harder to breathe as something squeezed his very being.  Two eyes manifest from the haze, a striking yellow as they glare into his very soul. 

  He was supposed to be trained for this, he was supposed to be trained to handle vengeful spirits. So why, why can’t he bring himself to move, to reach for his gun, scream anything? His throat feels tight like it's filled with molasses, he tries to scream, to beg ,to plead for fresh air. 

  Then it speaks , if you can call it that. He hears the voice from inside his head. A hiss, accompanied by a constant static, rings behind his eyes. He covers his ears to no avail. It doesn't stop; it doesn't quiet; it is only loud and painful. 

“ Y̵̧̨̨̛͕͎̞̣͚̳͎͎̫̫̭̬̾̃̂̑̈̋̾̇̄̏̕̕̚Ő̸̡̡͈͈̺̹̀̐̋͌͐͑̓͌͛̿͌̆̓̑͐͋͘̚͝Ų̵̩̤̮̝͔̗̥̬̝̪̤̳̦̘̖͎̝̟̻̄̈́͒̄̀͒̎́̀͜͝͝ͅ ̴̨͍̰̮͕͕̹̞̖̘̘͉̱͔̗̻̭̭͓̮̆͐̾̔̈́̐͐̃̀̋͘̕͠ͅͅĄ̵̟͖̝̯̻͇͔͍͚̝̳̂̕͜ͅR̵̨̛̛̪̱͚̲̝̣̣̺̩̹̉E̵̝̥̰̞̜̬̭̙̻͑̀͋͋͝ ̷̛̠̰̥̤̗̖̲̖̜̼̬̏̀͋͌̀̈̿̈́̿͌͐͗͂̒͘Ņ̷̰̹̖̞̲͈͉͎͎̣̯̱͔̙̩͓̐͒̔̾͋̿͝O̵̪̘̱̞̊̊̐Ţ̵̟̪͉̹̝̫̱͕̗̀̅̂͜ ̶̧̛̬̮͓̫̱̣̗̰͖̼̦̼͔̲̺͖͖̖̭̉͊̔̑̀̆Ẁ̸͙̠̩͉̌̽̒̎̔͋̈́̀̓͐̓͘͠E̶̟̥̘̮̟͇̲̘̦̝̫̓̏͐͆̍̅̍͂̎̌̌͆̑̈́͛̃̕͘͝L̷̨̢̡̨̻̜̰̙͍͚̭̖̹̹̝͍̮̓͛̃̄͋͆́̑̌̇͜ͅC̵̢̛̲̩̘̻͈͔̪̞͈̦̮̱̺̙̦̼͓̮̹̿̀̎͊͜O̴̧͎̩̱̘̳͇̮͈͉̒͗̂M̷̨̥̳̪̦̙̦͉̮̪͉̣̫̯̮̗̬̮̄́̈́Ę̴̨̧̢̧̛̦̤͓͕͙̦̼͍̻͎̹̻̀͛̿̋́͋̀̋̐̓̆̓̓̀͑͋͗ͅ ” 

  The words ring -a piercing whine like the reload of a camera.  

  M̵̨̢͉͇̼̘͔͈̪̜͕͈̥̯̘͛̃̃̏̑̔̓̈̇͐̓̓̍̾̑͆̚̕̕͝ý̵̨̢̢̬͇͕̩̱̯̗̋̽͒̏̇͛͑̍́̾̋͂̏̉̋̇̅͆̒͘ ̴̧̟͚̻͔̩͓̺̮͖͍̰̭̬̙͈͚̹̙̲͑́̀C̴̜̏̀̍̐̉̌̈́͑̓̓͑̏̅̑̓͋͠ï̴̮̫̪͊͗t̵̢̡͙͚̟͍̪̺̺̤̖̩̜̟̭̟̪͒̈͌̅́̀̇̈̂̄͛̀͐͜͜͝ÿ̷̖͈̄̃̏,̴̰̭̣̏̏̒̈́̐̑̅́͗̽͊̆̆̒̌̉́̉̚͠͠ ̷̨̢̧͎̠̰̤̲̣̯̙̼͈̜̬̣̺̾͊̍m̸̢͎͎̘͕̦͙̼̦̫̫̳̽̏̀̒̑͝y̷̨̧͇͓̖̗̝̺͙̻͖͔̹̰̲͌̓ ̴̡͙̩͚̂̆̐̐̈́̀͒͌͂̎̐̅̊̏͂̚͠͝P̶͇͍̠̥̥͚̭͍͕̥͇͎̼̦͔̼͓̭͙͒͆́͗͗̓͂̓̚̚e̷̡̡̢͇̯̺̰̜̠̗̱̹̞̞̣͈̞͉̜̿͒̈́̊͐̄͝ỏ̷̧͔̟̦͕͔̭̝͎͕͌̏̐̍̃͐̊̽̄͒͒̌̈͋̉̌̕͝͝͠P̸̢̧̯͙̳̖͉͓͉̫̩͈̦̫̼͍̩̺̳͐̇̀͆̕L̸̛̛̦̭̣̻̠̙̘̼͕̮̜̹̟̯͓̽́̀̑̆̎͗͌͗͑̂̇̈́̇̎͂͒͂̏͘Ę̴̰̹͕͉͑̾̈͌͐̉͂̕̚��̼̗̻̖̩̭͔͇̣̱̦ ̶̡̧̡̲̮̞̙̞̞̣̳̫͂̀̉̑͒̂͛̓͛̄͆̈́̐̈͗́̃̎͝Ļ̷̢̱̱̤̹̗̻̙̫̻̩͔̝̩̘̤̤͈͎͐͊̐̆̾̏̈́͑̆̂̅̆̂̇̾̃͂̅̕̕͘͜͝ͅé̶̛̬̄̽͊̂̓̆̂͆̑́͗̋͗̈̈́̏͝͝͝A̴̡̺͕̤͍̰̺̘͕̦͎̗̖̦̥̩͕͓͎̽̆̓͊̆̓͒̈͑̄̏̑̆̕͜ͅv̴͎̤̳͓͛̓͂͋̿̊̇̎̔̃͘̕͠͝Ȩ̷̝̝͖̩̬͒͗͑̒͊

      The demand booms in time with the storm’s waves of thunder, making his skin sting. This is wrong; he needs to run; he has to hide; he needs to LEAVE. 

  Ņ̴͚͇̼̲̖͍̺͑̐̂̔̐̈́͝ờ̶̧̠̻̞͈͚͕̟̥͔͙̮̯̻̆̌̓̓͛́̉̾̑͆̽̕͝ ̷̢̛̜͍̮̘͙͍̲͕̎̐̑͂̐͌̈̓̿̑̐̀̉̄͑̓́̇͠͝H̵̡̞̖̾̓́a̶̡̧̖̬̭͚̹͉͕̓̄͊̾̉͌̏͌̅͗͌͜ͅŔ̶̡͕̼̫̭̻̗͕̬̰̍m̸̡̺̻̻̖̺̝̞̤̌̈̽̎̈́̑̍͆̑̈̈̇̀̕͠͠ ̴̻̹̤̟̔͐́͋̎̾͐̾̎̊̓̾͂̏̈́̓̍̈̚ẁ̷̡̨̧̲̙͎̝̬̘̼̮̱̯̠̤̱̣̼̘͕̩̂͜i̶̲̻̝̾̎̈́͋̏l̷̡̧̧̧͇̭̙͉̺̗̠̭̱͔͗́͑̆͌̃̑͗̒̊̕ļ̷̧̺̘̭̺̹̹̠̳̭͇͙͓̩̠̖̮͍͓̼͌́͛̉̓̕͜ ̶̮̼͙̓̒̌͜͜C̶̨̟͕̲̩͙̲͙̟͒͋̋̓̍̽̋͌̎͌̌́̌̚ͅơ̴̧̡͈̣̰̠͍̟̙̞̈́͘͜M̴̢̧̛̻̳̥̼͇̹̞͉̜̱͙͚͕̬͚͂̌͋̇̊̏͂̀͌́ͅe̴̛̛͍̥̲̟̫͈͓͎̪̪̎͒̓̆̌̀̑̐̈́̒̇̽̏̕͜͠ ̸̮̋̑̆̌̾̍̈́̿̎̒̈́͝͠M̶̢̻͚̜̺̘͈͚̼̓̑̈́̋͆̏̉̂̋͝i̵̧̝̲͇̠̝̘͍͇̗̰̪͓͙̫̦̖̗͐́̔͐̓̒̏̋̈́̊̄̈́͘͜ņ̶̠̲̜̖͕̙̰̼͙͔̺̝̺̋́̋̈́͠ͅȩ̴̢̛̤̬̫͉̮̪̮̥̬̰̄̄̇̅̓̓͑ ̷̢̣̫͇̬̰̹̠̯̮̲͉͚͆̇͗̓͜.̶̢̛̟͖͖͖̪̟͔̟̯̭̙̠̟̓̇̄̆̄̽̌̊̎̇̆̆̈́̚͜͠ ̵̡̛̮͉̠̣̣̦̯̄̀͌͒̍͊̀̕͘̚̚

The spirit’s eyes twist and swirl, teeth form from the fog and the cloud squeezed tighter.  His watch detector shatters, snapping him back into reality. With that, his lungs emptied, his limbs regain control and he runs. He doesn't know where he is going or how he's going to explain this but he needs to run.  He doesn't think -he just grabs his partner and beelines it for the van. He is not coming back. 

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gotham retracts her storm. Her job is done; her wards are safe. She slinks off into the darkness -after all, she has to check on her knights. 

  —-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Tim, you're seeing this right?” Barbara chimed in over the com he still had in his ear. He raised his head off of his knees pulling out his phone and opening the tracker that she had sent him. 

  “It's not the first time we've seen Gotham’s weird weather patterns before. Is something up with this one?”  The storm was constructed in a pocket of Gotham, it happened occasionally. 

  “Yeah, look at the duration. They’ve never gone on this long before. And it seems to be centered around that van I flagged.” 

  “You think it's a meta?” Tim asked wearily. A rogue meta was the last thing they needed right now. 

  “Don’t know. Can’t tell since the storm took out the cameras. I'm trying to get them back online.” He can hear the click of her keyboard as Babara tries to reboot the cam feed. A grunt came from the other side of the line, so no dice. 

  “Okay, guess we’re investigating on foot,” he turns to his siblings who were still sitting with him in the hall outside of the room Danny was sleeping in, “ Somethings going on with that van over by the cathedral. We gotta investigate on foot.” 

  Cass popped up and Dick swiftly followed, all three on their way down to the cave. His brother stalled, pausing in the hall and turning towards Danny's door, a worried expression crossing his face.  Cass softly tugs on his arm, giving their oldest brother a soft smile. ‘Safe’ she signs. Dick smiles back; Tim sure hopes she's right. 

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Oracle chimed in not that soon after the bats and birds had flown the coop, reporting that the van had been spotted speeding out of Gotham. This was great news for Dick.  It settled some of the worry sitting in his chest as he and Tim swung their way over to where the cameras had gone down. The entirety of the block was drenched, which wasn't weird for Gotham per say, but the storms were never this concentrated. 

  “Stay on high alert, we don't know if they made a drop off.” Tim called out through the coms.

  “You got it, Red!” It had been a while since he and Tim paired off on patrol. It was nice to get to hang out with his brother.  As they approached one of the alleyways that had been marked on the map, the scale in which the storm had raged became more clear. It had been strong enough to take out cameras but apparently had not washed away several scorch marks on the concrete. Dried patches blackened throughout the surrounding area. 

  “Red Robin, you seeing this?” 

  Tim already had his compact camera out, after all he had always been a shutterbug. Dick smiles to himself at the memories of Tim chasing them around with his camera, thinking of how far he had come. At Tim's affirmative, Dick ducked deeper into the alley scanning until he found something. 

  His gaze fell upon some freshly broken glass, and what looked like the arrows from a compass of sorts, not far from the ring of scorched earth. “Red I found something,” Dick called Tim over to get a shot of the debris before putting it in an evidence bag. 

  “Nightwing, I think whatever storm event this was must have broken a piece of their tech,” Tim observed,  collecting a few good pictures of the scattered parts' location, then took note of their distance from the initial circle. “The street had some small scrap as well, and Oracle flagged the van due to it giving off abnormal radio signals.” 

  “Yeah? What do you think it means?" Dick quaint,  placing his hand on his chin and rolling around the information in his head. 

  “Who knows, but they either found what they were looking for or were scared off based on how quickly they left.” Tim took the bag of parts from Dick and put it in a pouch. “And I'm not sure which is worse.”  Tim scanned the area one more time looking for any more bits of whatever had broken. Not far off from where the van had been parked he finds it. A busted wrist watch, but it wasn't a normal watch. It had obviously been modified, but for what he wasn't sure. 

  “We should take it back to the cave", Dick says, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder to snap him out of his detective spiral. They still weren't sure if whatever (nature or a meta but honestly the storm had been too controlled to be anything but a meta) had wrecked the alley would come back. It was probably for the best they collected the evidence and dip. 

  “Yeah, you're right, best to report to Oracle. We also don't want to leave the little one alone with B. If he runs and none of us are there, we could lose him for real.” Tim agreed easily enough, which was weird. Tim was a total workaholic, but maybe he really was that worried about Danny. That was a touching thought for Dick, but then again his family had always been fast to take in any of B's new wards so he supposed this would not be all that different. 

  “Yeah let's head back,” Dick quickly pulled him into a side hug, and then shot his grapple. 

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Danny's eyes fluttered open, the sound of muffled voices dancing on the other side of the door. They were soft and warm, nothing like the hisses in his foggy memories.  He phased through the pile of blankets and inched towards the door, placing his ear against it to listen to whoever was on the other side.

  “We can let him sleep,  B, poor thing's probably exhausted,” the man that Dick's daddy had brought home spoke in a light accent. 

  “ I know, Clark, but he’s so small, we've never had one that small,��� the other man sounded so tired. “ I just… What do we do? He can't stay here -it's not safe.” Oh no, the big man was gonna send him away! Danny didn't want to leave! Uncle left him with Dick; he was supposed to stay with him. Big Lady said he was safe. So he had to be safe. 

  Danny's breathing picked up as he scooted himself back along the floor, pulling his legs against his chest. He wants Dick to come back, he wants ქმɀɀ. He wants to go home but he can't-home isn't there any more.

  What happened?  Why? Why is it gone? 

  His head spins, the voices outside the door don't stop, he wants all the noise to stop. His ears buzz and he can hear the outside, he can hear the cars driving on the city streets, it's too much. He needs it to stop. 

  A whine escapes from deep in his chest. He's scared and he wants it to stop. He's not sure what he did but he's sorry, he  just wants to know why this is happening. 

  Then like a warm pack on his aching muscles, a hand is placed on his shoulder. He snap his head up, tears trickling from the corners of his eyes. “Hey bud, it's ok. You're ok. You're ok.” The now familiar voice rings out in soft tones.

  Dick came and he answered his pleas, Danny's core buzzing in the relief. He launches  himself into the man's arms burying his face in his chest. 

  “Loud -it's too loud….” he softly sobs, holding his hands over his ears. The noise still didn't stop and he doesn't know why, or how to make it stop. “ I want Ja...I… Big sister…where did she go?” Images of soft smiles and bright red hair dance around his head. He knows who that is, he just can't quite picture her. 

  “Your ears hurt?,” Dick asked, keeping his voice soft and low but it was still so loud. Why was everything so loud?

  “May I?” The other man from the hall takes soft steps forward. “This happened to Jon a few times when he was little. I think he's having trouble reigning in  his super hearing. He's probably overloaded, Gotham's a big city with a lot of noise.” 

  “ Danny, can Uncle Clark try to help? He's got really strong hearing too, he might be able to help,” Dicks whispered as soft as humanly possible. 

  Did Danny want his help? He was big and scary, but his aura was soft. Not like the other big man with his prickly one. He gave off waves of sympathy, love, hope ,worry, same , that made Danny's core reach towards him. 

  “ But don't leave, please don't leave,...” Danny tugged on Dick's sleeve. He didn't want him to leave because every time he did something scary happened. 

  “Of course star shine,” he moved Danny's bangs out of his eyes, “ I'll stay right here ok?” Danny nodded and Clark took a few more steps towards Danny. His heart raced and images of looming figures in white flashing in his head. He put his hands over his ears and shook his head trying to clear the fog.

  Two large hands clasp his own gently lifting them off his ears, "What can you hear the softest, what's the furthest away Danny?” He asks in his soft tone. 

  “Cars, foot steps, owls.” Danny listed out as requested.

  “ Ok that's good, good job, now how about some things that are a bit closer?” 

  Danny listens trying to find sounds closer than the rushing of traffic, “ Water, trees, crickets, bats”

  “You're doing great!  Okay how about things just in the manor?”

  “ Talking, buzzing, pots and pans” 

  “ Ok see you're doing fanatic,” He said, placing a hand gently on Danny’s shoulder. “ Now things just in this room.”

  “ Breathing, heart beats , bug” Danny's head doesn't ring so much any more- the far off noise being filtered out and his ears only focusing on the space around him. 

  “ Bug? Just one,” Dick chuckles, rubbing soothing circles on Danny's back. “ That's some pretty good hearing.”  Danny flushes at the compliment, burying his face back into Dick's chest. 

  “Not used to the noise of the big city buddy?” Clark asks gently, his tone still low and even. 

  “Nuh uh,'' Danny mumbles out. His last home was a lot more quiet. He could hear a pin drop from across town. This new home was too loud. 

  “Well you're awfully brave,'' Clark offers.

  “The bravest,” Dick agrees. Danny flushes up to his ears, hiding his face. His core humms, because they're telling the truth, waves of love and compassion waft off the two men. It was refreshing and warm and he wished it could last forever. 

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Bruce took a moment to gaze upon the sight before him. His eldest son with a small boy held lovingly to his chest, and his boyfriend smiling fondly at the shy child as he offered comforting words.  A small smile crept onto his lips.  His son, his Clark, and his grandson. And wasn't that a thought, how the boy had latched onto Dick so fast.

  In reality they were lucky he had, what would they have done if they had to force the kid into containment? It probably wouldn't have done them any good, the kid had already been through so much and they didn't even know the half of it.  How had the Kents survived when their powers went awry?

  Oh wait,  that's right, Clark's parents lived in rural Kansas, with no surrounding cityscape to overwhelm them and they always had a place to go when they were. 

  “Hey Danny, what if you came with me to my parents' farm, just while you heal a little? It's where I grew up and we'll know how to handle your powers.” And this is why Bruce loved the man.  It was like he read his mind. 

  Danny didn’t even respond, he just clung tighter on to Dick's shirt. If Bruce didn’t know any better he would have sworn that he stopped breathing all together.   “Danny it’s safe there I prom-“

  “I don’t want to leave!” Danny blurts out heaving in a breath. “ I can’t leave, Uncle left me with Dick! I have to stay.” Danny was growing visibly distressed, "How is he supposed to find me if I leave?” 

  Clark winced, setting a hand on his forehead for a moment. Strange, did Danny getting agitated influence how much the kryptonite in his system affected Clark? Maybe the faster his heart rate rose the more infected blood was pushed to the surface.

  “Ok ummm…tell you what, how about we take a few days to think it over?” Dick offered, keeping his voice calm. The boy visibly relaxed at his words.  “We can think about it over the next few days then on the weekend when I’m off we’ll try it out just for a couple days. Just a visit, how about that?”

  Bruce knew that meant he would probably have to work a little extra to cover the lost ground. But to be honest he’s not sure if he minded, his new grandson obviously required a little extra care to adjust. 

  Plus he has to start following the trail before it goes cold. After all, no one hurts a child in his city and gets away with it. 

  ——————————————————————-

  Tim sat at the computer and huffed, Dick had rushed off to check on the new kid as soon as they got back from patrol, leaving him with a majority of the dirty work. Whatever, the analysis of the watch would probably go faster if it was just him anyway. Just as Tim had started laying out and photographing what little of the watch was still intact and the pieces that they had managed to find, Alfred walked into the cave. 

  He politely cleared his throat, causing Tim to turn towards the man who was basically his grandfather. “Master Tim, I’m aware you're probably busy but I have a request.”

  “ Oh Yeah? What is it?” Tim dropped what he’s doing and sped over to Alfred by his spot on the stairs; it was rare for the man to make a direct request. “What is it, wait is it in that bag?” The butler was holding a little disposable bag from a med kit, clearly labeled as medical waste.

  Wait a minute, “Is that- is that from Danny?” He knew that Dick had said Danny was bleeding, but the thought of the red stained cloth coming from the child he was just playing tag with, the boy who spent hours  rambling about the stars, the one his brother held with all the fondness in the world, made his stomach turn. 

  “I'm afraid so. I believe it would be beneficial to get it analyzed as soon as possible. Not only to confirm any links to his origins, but also to check for infection if possible.”  Tim gently took the bag from Alfred, suddenly the weight of just what they were dealing with resting on his shoulders.  

  “The green, what, what is that?” The cloth was littered with green like someone had taken green glitter and mixed it with the blood. 

  “The green was in his blood, still is I assume. The surgical wounds and the fear of medical procedures point to the boy being experimented on.”  That meant Alfred also had no idea. Looks like this watch would have to wait. 

  “I’ll get right on it”, Tim rushed over towards the batcomputer he swung over the railing and pulled the chair out. But before sitting he turned towards Alfred. “Hey Al is he- is he ok? It’s just… Dick is just, he's really attached already, you know?” 

  “I hope he will be, but right now we just need to do our best to figure out what happened. I wish you luck, Master Tim, please get back to me as soon as you get the results.” He gave Tim a smile and made his way upstairs. 

  Turning to his new task, Tim just hopes this provides some answers. 

——————————————————————

  Conner sits on his bed in his room at Ma and Pa's house, headphones in his ears blocking out any sound around him. The headphones had been a gift from Tim, designed so he could block out the outside world.  The warm Kansas breeze flowing through his bedroom window, the soft glow of sunlight caching the curtains as they flutter in the wind.  

  He feels a light tap on his shoulder,  he turns to see Ma holding a phone. He takes his earphones out and sits up a little more so he can make room for her to sit. “Oh hey, how’s it going,” Conner chimed.

  “It’s your father, we got some news and well I think you should hear it,”  the look on her face was worried so not good news. Great, what now? Clark almost never called Ma with bad news. Conner took the phone and gently rested it against his ear. 

  “ Yes dad, it’s Conner. Is everything ok?”

  “Hey bud,” oh no, Clark was calling him bud, "I think you should hear this but I need you to promise to not come rushing.” 

  “Wait what’s wrong, you went to Gotham right? Are you hurt? Is…. Is  Tim hurt?” 

  “Yes I did; no I’m fine and Tim is safe. I promise.” Clark took a shaky breath in, Kon could hear the sound of someone running a hand on Clark’s shoulder. Probably Bruce if he was in Gotham. “Conner, we… we think we found another clone. We think someone cloned me again. And-“

  “ No ”  

  It was all he could bring himself to say as his bed creaked under his grip.

Next chapter: chapter 8: Visiting hours

Jason stops by for a visit, dick is so done, and conner and jon make an appearance.

Also to those of you who couldn't tell, yes Dick is my favorite of the brothers, Why? Because i too am the eldest and the ginipiggu that my parents worked out all their screw ups on so they didnt fuck up the other ones. I RELATE to him on a personal level i to am the eldest in a family full of problem children but I still love them. <3

Tag TIME!

@wolfeyedwitchwitch

@fisticuffsatapplebeesbees

@terzatheunderscorerima

@sweet-itachi-lovinovin

@undead-essencee

@blacksea21090090

@markus209

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@kae-membrana-blog

@thegatorsgoose

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@mayoota-blog1

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@kilasmess

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@thought-u-said-dragon-queen

@aconitewolfsbane

@may-rbi

@justwannaseesomebrozawa

@chaoticmistake

@seraphinedemort

@skulld3mort-1fan

[yuri-official]

I made myself Disco Elysium skills :3

MAIDEN is FREEDOM

love deeply, love boundlessly. nobody can deny a pretty young girl her lackadaisical exploits.

- Bleeding Heart - Mourning in high doses, thousand-word smiles. Cathedrals in anthills, the fall of Rome in every shattered glass. Unfathomable love, a vast, vast soul. Deadly when left unchecked.

- White Shadow Waltz - In its absence, you have become the high priestess. The world continues turning, and you remain still. Yet, you will not falter.

- Expensive Mistake (evil Electrochemistry) - Fill your hollow heart with smoke and venom. Being loved will not save you, but drugs with strangers might. Your body can be a magnet as much as a weapon.

- Metamorphosis - You are changing, and you do not get a choice. Everything Empty Cup values is being taken away from you. Are you not horrified? You had what you wanted, and now you are trapped in a twisting prison of flesh.

- Over The Rainbow - It would be so easy to fall, but you wish someone would push you. Who would find you? Who would they tell? Really, who cares?

MOTHER is FULFILLMENT

care. kindness. selflessness. know your place and find your purpose in the burdens.

- La Pieta - Tend to the sick, Martyr Mary, daughter of your son. Roll the stone over the grave. Sing to the dying, pity the poor worm after the rain. Love and lose.

- The Hand That Feeds - Forgive the dog its bite. Allow the vampires to drink their fill. Hospitality is paramount. You are a fountain of youth.

- Caretaker - Caress, soothe, smother. Sometimes, boundaries must be crossed. You provide a hot meal, a lap to lay in, a shoulder to cry on. Ignore how good it makes you feel.

- Porcelain Face - Look sharp, soldier. Don’t cry during the surgery. Keep yourself together, hold the manic Prophets on a tight leash. Show gentleness, not weakness.

- Empty Cup - Where your value lies. A flower to be protected, cherished, saved for the right moment. Womanhood, worthiness.

MUSE is STATIC

inspire and be inspired. become whole. let your messiah complete you. canonize yourself in their own personal religion. this, and only this, is what will save you.

- River of Light - Find your raft and cling to it, lest you drown. Your temple, your sun, your everything. Dependence can be safety, and after all, the night is dark and dangerous.

- Pink Elephant Mask - Love is worship, my dear. Blessed be the one who finds herself on the pyre. Be grateful for this infinite love, and return willingly to the earth.

- Magpie’s Gambit - Bring tribute to your gods. Piece together the scraps of what nobody else wanted, and hopefully, make something beautiful. When you have nothing else to give, create your own offerings.

- Mirror to Mirror - Merge souls. Become indistinguishable. Become comorbid. lose yourself in your love. You are me, I am you, and your pain is my own.

- Canis Feminum - Be the dog. Sit, stay, fetch, obey. You love it. You live for it. People love dogs, and you want to be loved, don’t you? Trust blindly, follow without discrimination. You love your leash.

PROPHET is MANIC

speak from intuition, dance with ghosts. find omens in everything. you can make anyone a saint. you, and only you, can save them all.

- Lilac Communion - Hear your angels clearly. Traverse heaven. You WILL go to heaven. You and you alone, little lamb.

- Beloved Parasite - Die again. Die again. Die again. You’ll get it right this time. You will see yourself opened up and scattered across space until you get it right. You will feel wounds that are not there, until you get it right.

- Penance - Starvation instinct, the need to break skin. Deprive yourself, it is the only way to apologize for your sorry life. Bring a gift to compensate for your presence. Serve and stay silent.

- Dream Logic - Everything means something, and you can find truth in the most far-fetched of lies. Never ignore a sign. Omens are everywhere. What is believed will be.

- Righteous Anger - Learn to SNARL. Harden your hurt into a sharp point of pride. Shake off your programming, and find your rage.

[dansnaturepictures]

03/04/2024 and 04/04/2024-Peregrine Falcon at St. Thomas Church, phone photo of a tulip at Dean Garnier Garden, views of a flower bed and the memorial bench to those lost in the Covid-19 pandemic with daffodils on in Abbey Gardens and a flower of the moment for me with more seen than ever that past few days at different places yellow archangel or yellow deadnettle.

Stock Doves seen at Winchester Cathedral both days there are lots about there currently which I've not often seen before, Blue Tit in Abbey Gardens yesterday and on the balcony feeders today, Great Tit, Goldfinches on the feeders tonight, Woodpigeon at home, Robin, Blackbird, worm, ladybird, snowflakes, cow parsley, red and white deadnettle, herb-Robert and garlic mustard leaves were other highlights across the two days.

[looseleafteeaves]

Facing the Krayt Dragon

Note that this will be majorly AU, and also contain a ton of fanon/headcanon ideas. Rule of thumb? If you recognize it, probably not mine. You will see… Alderaanian culture stuff, force sensitive ideas, jedi stuff, amavikka stuff(aka Tatooine Slave Culture from various fandom writers, though one of the largest is @fialleril ), and maybe a touch of naboo culture stuff. Nothing will be Jedi critical.

Leia had followed Han to Tatooine for several reasons.

The mountains of Alderaan echoed in her bones but the waters of Naboo sung through her blood and the sands of the desert made up her soul.

One reason was Han’s capture.

One was the call she felt to the place her rebel brother called home.

One was to see the ghost of Obi-wan’s last years of life.

One was that she had heard a voice roaring for her to come home. To walk the blood soaked sands. To wake the dragon.

Yes, Leia had many reasons to walk beneath the twin burning suns.

Her war braids entwinned with mourning white ribbons as she approaches Mos Eisley. She knew she could handle herself.

Even if she felt adrift without her twin sun to orbit.

Leia was not prepared. Jabba the Hutt, sniveling worm that he was, had decided that she was pretty. Luke had nothing good to say about the place, and even less about the few times his family had to work off a debt to Jabba in the dry years. Leia knew she would be in for months, if not years of struggle. Luke’s advice still rang in her head like the mountain top cathedral bells. “If you must go to Tatooine, hide yourself first. You are foreign, pretty, young, and obviously fierce. They will think you are worth the risk of hunting to sell.”

Leia had not stayed hidden. And by the time several months had passed? She could feel the call to the desert growing stronger, and the urge to resist growing weaker.

“Child.”

Leia looked up immediately. An older weequay, named Shirsu Terramitta was approaching.

“Yes, Shirsu?”

The old weequay smiled. “Come to my rooms tonight. It is a time of joy. I would like to invite you to partake.”

A voice, unfamiliar but kind, spoke. “She will never be a jedi.”

“No. She will be someone else. Can you not hear the Force proclaiming such, as loud an a chorus sung across the mountains of Alderaan?”

Leia thinks long and hard, but nods. “I will be there Shirsu.”

“I will be waiting, Sister.”

Something stirs. That name is familiar, in the way that a favored bedtime story half-remembered is. Yes. I am Sister.

—

Jabba releases his dancers early. Rumors of a sickness tearing through his pets makes him wary of keeping them too close. All of his dancers move to Shirsu’s room.

“Leia, you are coming to Grandmother today?”

Leia pauses, nodding. The human, Itza, smiles. “Then I am glad to walk beside you.”

Leia remains quiet. The air feels like the moment before a sandstorm hits.

Anticipation. Danger. Survival.

Hope.

———

Shirsu welcomes everyone is, and says “My people, one has joined us. She looks towards the desert each day. She is Called. We now must bring her into our family. She must have her Name.”

Leia felt something building, something charging the air. A cool sensation like morning dew on Alderaan surrounded the quartet.

“Leia, we name you kin. You have been a slave, you will always remember that. You are one of us. I tell you this story to save your life.”

Shirsu- Grandmother- tells her the story of the stealing of Ar-Amu’s children. Of her promise. Of Depur and Ekkreth. Of Akar Hinil, Tena, Ebra, Mitta, the Twins who carried the suns.

Of Leia and Lukka. Of how the Krayt chases the sandstorm, and the sandstorm the krayt. Forever orbiting each other.

Leia learns about the piece of herself that never fit. She grows. She learns. And one day, many months after Bentu Depurak, Jabba is displeased with his senator toy. She had tried to poison him. He decided to send her into the desert for face the storm.

Leia, the call of the desert like a deafening scream, keeps her smile small and secret.

She knew the poison would come in handy

[evocation-of-mystical-eidolons]

I nodded and started presently a phantasmal and grotesque appendage slipped into my view...calcinated by the purification of spectral larvae I dozed and was sent whirling down nether abysses of non individuated oneness as of Neoplatonists...my eyes wrenched toward acrid gaudy lights drunk as of tenuous shadows tenebrous litten by eld mothy moon eared excrescences protruding from the luminous aether in unbounded spaces my neck snapped under pressure of pachydermatous hands of ferruginous salts of ammonia my brain was ravaged and I sunk utterly...infinite revulsion of spirit anguish clad by raiment of oleaginous and unctuous agglutinations of loathsome putrescent slime of eggs of enormous Worms and toads of fungal larvae and maggot born exhalations as of ophiolatrous worshippers beating ponderous drums to the tattoo of infernal rhythms my heart was choked and withering to hoary greybeards in the Selene clad prognathous cerements palls blackened teeming with spermatozoa and oocytes alleles as of genetic abominations delivered to my knowledge through cacophonous dins of insensate pulsating horrors acrimonious and ragged drug through miry fens and bogs of abhorrent medieval sorcerers witches clad in starry lachrymose textiles wrought from the skin of wyverns...my mental proscenium was filled with visions miasmal and horrendous celestial and glacial primal and prehistoric teeming masses of ancient organisms the entire phylogeny tree bifurcation and budding in myriad efflorescence's and umbels roseate honied speech flowed from the lips of maidens defiling from an eld cathedral clad in lace dresses as of white snow tresses as of ravens a grand processional of mystic proportions these imidrizing visions gave way to a new tide of repulsive abnormities flowed in unending tortuous cascades grim spectres of deaths heads and a tide of seething masses of horrid bat deamons culled from nether acrid caves as of trolls and moss swords and castles crypts buried rotting spectres phantoms of nitre-encrusted toads lurking in swampy fens denizens of ancient eld dominions of wizened cronies Hyperborean mages of alchemical phantasies philtres of love potions...I wavered and faltered encumbered by noisome vapors beset my nocturnal owls of sulphur and bitumen my soul froze and I wearied agonized by tumultuous vast scurrying thoughts of anguished wails of frightful ogres and ghouls, spawn of Tartarus and the eternal limitless abyss of Nyx. Beaten goaded and sickened my spirit breaks and is tattered and ravaged by innumerable orcs Elven faeries capered to and fro in front of the darksome and brooding grotto they danced a merry and gay jig the Gladsome and light airy fays or the aerial and ethereal sylph of Paracelsus I was entranced and filled with myriad tender thoughts as I gazed at the joyous dance of the eld little folk yet I was as yet still beset by ravages of the mind...ineffably weary weltschmerz unspeakable existential dread the vast and sardonic derision of the evil propagator of the universe I was tossed tempestuously and rendered derelict and abandoned my body was benumbed by an ancient and terrible icy frost of Norse hells beset beleaguered and bombarded beaten and torn ripped limb from limb utterly extirpated my soul cried out in horrendous despair why ? And the silence mocked my personal credo quia absurdums of Thomas Browne formulated and expressed at my utter limit of anguish De Profundis Domine Lord of the depths I have cried to thee blot out my iniquities , lord have mercy my anguish is yet a species of pride to be simple and humble to be meek I will do penance and mortify my concupiscent desires of the flesh self flagellate and beat my breast have pity on a lost soul wandering in the barren and desolate desert of Nubia I execrate this paltry and puerile life it is devoid of any worth it is a vanity and a lie a profound dearth worthless and ragged and torn asunder...I was slightly taken aback by this sudden torrent of pious devotion which had sprang from my lips I gazed at a crucifix hanging on the wall and thought of the Spanish black Madonna's and the byzantine Christ Panocrator...newly inspired I quickly navigated to the yt channel poesie psychotique vaguely felt affinities to my own experiences a vindication a link to an artistic vision of chaotic and beautiful nay more basically rich vibey vague and various Imagos as of moths of aether and silken dreams wrought in batik Malayan textiles...next I gingerly lifted a mug of fortifying libation of rich earth mould acidulous coffee darker than black as of anime archetypes creating effectively infinite expansive legendariums I sipped and savoured the rich flavour, the inimitable beverage quaffed by decadent dandys nay that was the green fairy Absinthe...my thoughts wandered and new images wrought of psychobabble formed novel and magnificent malformations upon my mental proscenium I plodded along the circuitous and labyrinthine passage of an eld mouldering city of vast cyclopean edifices raised by some archaic prehistoric race who worshipped ithyphallic monolithic idols of rough hewn basaltic stone and porphyry...I glimpsed terrible and arcane carvings and hieroglyphs carven into the malevolent stone which forbode of unknown and arcane rituals of sacrifice to zoomorphic and amorphous god beings extraterrestrial eldritch abominations spawned in the further reaches of Saturn at the edges of the cosmos...they were fungoid beings born from aerial sporangia which traveled galactic distances and arrived on Saturn countless aeons ago they were the Old Ones the Elder Gods identified with all the primal earthly deities of El and Astarte the horned goddess who dances a gyrating and lascivious ritual before the Tetrarch incense laden an perfumed of rich and fragrant myrrh and balsam and also darker satanic perfumes of acontium and wolfsbane they were henna painted and curved voluptuously to the tattoo of a drum beaten incessantly a decadent femme fatale an intoxicating houri of Islamic paradise an exotic oriental goddess the avatar of the destroyer Kali of brooding Kolkata which birthed deafening and thunderous war metal pummeling in its torrent of audial sonic desecrating filth.

[caranelguild]

March 25, 2IY 1

Our adventurers have had enough of sepulchres, and certainly enough of spiders - poison courses through their systems and, for Arlex and Zilybar, results in some embarrassing discomfort. They leave the cliff behind and travel towards the sprawling ruin of the tlixacta'in city.

At first, it is as recorded in the journal of Locke Ullmark: broken foundations and toppled walls, overgrown and grown through by the forest. The only relics easily found are the clay plates familiar to Brindi and the university. She collects a few for herself.

Then a haze grows up ahead, and soon the gang is on the edge of an expansive cloudbank of mushroom spores that limit visibility of the rest of the city! Brindi has already fashioned a gas mask and pulls it out to find the source of the spores. Arlex follows behind.

Zilybar is the most reluctant to risk breathing the fungus, but ultimately follows the gang when everyone and the animals head inside. He does his best to stay above the bank, leaping from ruin to ruin.

Soon, they discover they are walking towards a colossal mushroom the size of a cathedral. Beneath its spreading head grow hundreds of other white mushrooms of various sizes.

Brindi tries to eat a chunk of the mumshroom's great stem, but her stomach rejects it.

Then the party is moving on, observing that the mushrooms around them are home to a species of blue inchworm or caterpillar. When Zilybar leans in to get a closer look, one of these worms exhales a tendril of fragrant smoke, as of herbal tobacco.

Soon, our adventurers are beyond the spores, and can see what must be the city center ahead. Arlex runs towards the large, buttressed building that dominates the space - missing its roof but otherwise intact - and as she enters the square before it, she finds herself crunching over thousands of scattered bug-people bits. Carapace and brittle limbs lie everywhere, entirely covering the ground.

The cathedral draws everyone's attention, and they head towards it. The doors open, and reveal a large entry chamber with multiple doors leading from it. Ahead is a double-door sealed with fungus that must lead down the aisle of the great building's sanctuary.

Zilybar and Arlex clear the seal, and air hisses out from the cracks. The doors are thrown open, and our party faces two alert, at-arms bug guards!

Arlex doesn't hesitate, even though everyone else wishes she did, and leaps forward, hacking the four hands off of one guard.

Only when that bug teeters forward and topples onto Arlex without reacting does our party recognize that the two guards are far from alive. Perfectly preserved, yes - down to the frills on their colourful garb - but absent any signs of life.

As lights are brought forward, the entire sanctuary is discovered to be populated by these preserved insect people. They fill the pews - all richly dressed, all completely still, like wax figures.

Our adventurers move down the central aisle and approach a great magic circle inscribed into the stone of the sanctuary's center. Filaments like those dangling from the statuary doors have been braided and inset into the design, and bug folk in robes stand at particular points of the huge rune.

Another bug person stands facing the magic circle in the elevated pulpit box.

Brindi steps into the magic circle -

and she dies, collapsing to the stonework -

and there is a dry rustling, as every tlixacta'in in the church comes to life -

and Brindi is suddenly rising into the air above the circle, her eyes glowing in a colour beyond the spectrum. She recites seven words, and drops to her feet, alive and crackling with new, fiendish magic.

Pandemonium ensues. Bug folk are panicking in the pews, screeching and clicking in their language, rushing every which way. Arlex is caught among them, sulking away from the others ever since being criticized for chopping the hands off the guard -

who screeches louder than any other from back up the aisle.

But Brindi had put on her translation device almost as quickly as Arlex had attacked the guard, and begins conversing with the person in the pulpit box.

She learns that the tlixacta'in gathered here to avoid death from the "Thronegod", and are under the impression that they only just, in the last instant, recited the final phrase of a great preservation spell. The person Brindi is speaking to is referred to as the "Earthlord", and is delighted to learn that the spell actually worked - they outlasted the Thronegod and xer followers!

Together, Brindi and the Earthlord calm the host. Brindi leads her companions to the steps of the cathedral while the Earthlord gives a speech to xer congregation, explaining the situation. Injured are sent out to our adventurers per Brindi's request, but Arlex refuses to redeem her actions by assisting with the magical healing.

So Roy and the archaeologist do the work, even reattaching the guard's amputated hands.

A steward of some kind is shortly sent out to bring our adventurers to guest quarters, but xe is brought up short by the sight outside the cathedral: the death field, and the ruins beyond.

[argentumcor]

A Cliche Came Out of Its Cage

1.

You said 'The world is going back to Paganism'. Oh bright Vision! I saw our dynasty in the bar of the House Spill from their tumblers a libation to the Erinyes, And Leavis with Lord Russell wreathed in flowers, heralded with flutes, Leading white bulls to the cathedral of the solemn Muses To pay where due the glory of their latest theorem. Hestia's fire in every flat, rekindled, burned before The Lardergods. Unmarried daughters with obedient hands Tended it By the hearth the white-arm'd venerable mother Domum servabat, lanam faciebat. at the hour Of sacrifice their brothers came, silent, corrected, grave Before their elders; on their downy cheeks easily the blush Arose (it is the mark of freemen's children) as they trooped, Gleaming with oil, demurely home from the palaestra or the dance. Walk carefully, do not wake the envy of the happy gods, Shun Hubris. The middle of the road, the middle sort of men, Are best. Aidos surpasses gold. Reverence for the aged Is wholesome as seasonable rain, and for a man to die Defending the city in battle is a harmonious thing. Thus with magistral hand the Puritan Sophrosune Cooled and schooled and tempered our uneasy motions; Heathendom came again, the circumspection and the holy fears… You said it. Did you mean it? Oh inordinate liar, stop.

2.

Or did you mean another kind of heathenry? Think, then, that under heaven-roof the little disc of the earth, Fortified Midgard, lies encircled by the ravening Worm. Over its icy bastions faces of giant and troll Look in, ready to invade it. The Wolf, admittedly, is bound; But the bond will break, the Beast run free. The weary gods, Scarred with old wounds the one-eyed Odin, Tyr who has lost a hand, Will limp to their stations for the Last defence. Make it your hope To be counted worthy on that day to stand beside them; For the end of man is to partake of their defeat and die His second, final death in good company. The stupid, strong Unteachable monsters are certain to be victorious at last, And every man of decent blood is on the losing side. Take as your model the tall women with yellow hair in plaits Who walked back into burning houses to die with men, Or him who as the death spear entered into his vitals Made critical comments on its workmanship and aim. Are these the Pagans you spoke of? Know your betters and crouch, dogs; You that have Vichy water in your veins and worship the event Your goddess History (whom your fathers called the strumpet Fortune).

-C.S. Lewis

[hermeticmelancholy]

David Gascoyne "And the Seventh Dream is the Dream of Isis"

1 white curtains of infinite fatigue dominating the starborn heritage of the colonies of St Francis white curtains of tortured destinies inheriting the calamities of the plagues of the desert encourage the waistlines of women to expand and the eyes of men to enlarge like pocket-cameras teach children to sin at the age of five to cut out the eyes of their sisters with nail-scissors to run into the streets and offer themselves to unfrocked priests teach insects to invade the deathbeds of rich spinsters and to engrave the foreheads of their footmen with purple signs for the year is open the year is complete the year is full of unforeseen happenings and the time of earthquakes is at hand

today is the day when the streets are full of hearses and when women cover their ring fingers with pieces of silk when the doors fall off their hinges in ruined cathedrals when hosts of white birds fly across the ocean from america and make their nests in the trees of public gardens the pavements of cities are covered with needles the reservoirs are full of human hair fumes of sulphur envelop the houses of ill-fame out of which bloodred lilies appear.

across the square where crowds are dying in thousands a man is walking a tightrope covered with moths

2 there is an explosion of geraniums in the ballroom of the hotel there is an extremely unpleasant odour of decaying meat arising from the depetalled flower growing out of her ear her arms are like pieces of sandpaper or wings of leprous birds in taxis and when she sings her hair stands on end and lights itself with a million little lamps like glow-worms you must always write the last two letters of her christian name upside down with a blue pencil she was standing at the window clothed only in a ribbon she was burning the eyes of snails in a candle she was eating the excrement of dogs and horses she was writing a letter to the president of france

3 the edges of leaves must be examined through microscopes in order to see the stains made by dying flies at the other end of the tube is a woman bathing her husband and a box of newspapers covered with handwriting when an angel writes the word tobacco across the sky the sea becomes covered with patches of dandruff the trunks of trees bust open to release streams of milk little girls stick photographs of genitals to the windows of their homes prayerbooks in churches open themselves at the death service and virgins cover their parents' beds with tealeaves there is an extraordinary epidemic of tuberculosis in yorkshire where medical dictionaries are banned from public libraries and salt turns a pale violet colour every day at seven o'clock when the hearts of troubadours unfold like soaked mattresses when the leaven of the gruesome slum-visitors and the wings of private airplanes look like shoeleather shoeleather on which pentagrams have been drawn shoeleather covered with vomitings of hedgehogs shoeleather used for decorating wedding-cakes and the gums of queens like glass marbles queens whose wrists are chained to the walls of houses and whose fingernails are covered with little drawings of flowers we rejoice to receive the blessing of criminals and we illuminate the roofs of convents when they are hung we look through a telescope on which the lord's prayer has been written and we see an old woman making a scarecrow on a mountain near a village in the middle of spain we see an elephant killing a stag-beetle by letting hot tears fall onto the small of its back we see a large cocoa-tin full of shapeless lumps of wax there is a horrible dentist walking out of a ship's funnel and leaving behind him footsteps which make noises on account of his accent he was discharged from the sanatorium and sent to examine the methods of cannibals so that wreaths of passion-flowers were floating in the darkness giving terrible illnesses to the possessors of pistols so that large quantities of rats disguised as pigeons were sold to various customers from neighbouring towns who were adepts at painting gothic letters on screens and at tying up parcels with pieces of grass we told them to cut off the buttons on their trousers but they swore in our faces and took off their shoes whereupon the whole place was stifled with vast clouds of smoke and with theatres and eggshells and droppings of eagles and the drums of the hospitals were broken like glass and glass were the faces in the last looking-glass.

[ffxiv-f13ndish]

Calm Before the Storm: What it Means to Persevere

“Eliane, dear. You must get up. You must persevere.”

A child lay on the cold tile of a cathedral, crying under the deficient covering of a thin blanket. It was not the standard, tear filled, red faced, snot dripping crying many have become accustomed to. No tears stained the young ones face, with no frustrated crinkle of the brow to accompany it.

Perhaps if someone were to look them in their face, it would be presumed that they were tired, maybe even a little bit bored. 

The tears they cried boiled inside them with a raging fury, the steam rising up and leaving a fog in their glassy green eyes until not a single drop was left. A flame sparked within, and burst out to consume the world around it. The inferno quickened, swinging through cathedral doors and sweeping up the city. Once ornate and carefully decorated structures were now adorned by flames, and it crumbled under the ravenous fire. One by one, the court, the knights, the holy men, and the common man marched into the mouth of the beast. 

If it were the whole world that damned them in the first place, then let the whole place be damned. 

A familiar figure stood among the mounds of ash. Foreboding and tall with limbs like a willow tree, crowned by horns that curved back with an upward point like daggers aimed at the heavens which had betrayed him. He didn’t stop to look in satisfaction at the fallen remains of his work, green and cloudy white eyes affixed straight ahead. Focused. Expecting. 

Acknowledging. 

“Nosy nestling. Much as one wouldn’t just sashay into someone’s home without an invite, don’t you believe it to be rude to be poking around in someone’s dreams?” Virgil addressed the intruder.

There was an abrupt feeling of consciousness, of existence. And no longer were they a mere, disembodied observer.

Ah, so it seems Miyu had found their way into another’s dream again. And of course, it just had to be this guy’s dream. 

‘I had expected more rainbows and dancing,’ Miyu snidely thought. Only, it wasn’t intended to simply be a thought. They had opened their mouth to speak, even. But much like when one tries to holler when afflicted with sleep paralysis, not a single sound left their lips. 

Suddenly, the ash and smoke cleared away, and they were seated across Virgil in a room.

“Perhaps, you owe me a cup of tea. Then your intrusion wouldn’t be as uncouth as it has been, hm? Though, I suppose you can’t be reprimanded too harshly – after all, you’re quite well acquainted with a crude lifestyle, aren’t you?” Virgil mused, leaning back in his seat comfortably.

‘Stupid, stupid, stupid stretched out worm. I hope you drown in your own drool soaked pillow in your sleep.’

“Now, there’s no need to speak in such a manner. If there’s information you seek, do invite me,” Virgil sternly remarked, though there was no noticeable shift in his expression despite his annoyance. 

Shame that inside thoughts didn’t stay inside when inside someone else’s head. 

Before Miyu could mouth off more, everything fell away.

And they awoke from their nap with a splitting headache. 

[a-gay-gathering]

mayhaps??? goth band list time ??

list of goth/post-punk/whatever i want bands that i listen to :) + a couple recommendations

- aurat (nasha) - buzz kull (avoiding the light, into the void) - dancing plague (cataracts) - grand blanc (isati, l’amour fou, surprise party) - hante. (à contrecoeur) - lebanon hanover (sadness is rebellion, tomb for two, the last thing) - minuit machine (honey, everlasting, forgive me for my sins) - rendez vous (the others, plasticity) - she past away (kasvetli kutlama, durdu dünya) - siouxsie and the banshees (night shift, spellbound) - soft kill (whirl) - soviet soviet (ecstasy, 1990, change with the sun) - ssleeping desiress (we need) - tempers (strange harvest, hell hotline, eyes wide wider) - the agnes circle (white gate, monument) - the cure (the hanging garden, a strange day, m, lovesong) - this cold night (black cathedral) - traitrs (the lovely wounded, i sit and watch the worm beneath my nail, burnt offerings) - twin tribes (shadows, fantasmas) - vacíos cuerpos (reflejos) - velvet condom (samt und stein, kalter lippenstift, poison & maquillage) anyways slay ok bye this is definitely not my third post in a single day bc i am sane and normalpilled

[cipheramnesia]

And so many questions while our parasite Alice dwells in my head like the little larvae weaving their nerve threads through the spine and the mind of Alice, mostly just, where does it start and go, and why and who, the normal concerns. It could be that tattoo along her narrow spare thigh, more like a name on a file reading ALic3, just the sort of thing to make it easier to find flipping through folders. But she doesn't know, like, her Bunny.

She had a name well enough but bunny was fine, all the same kind of tattoo, a whole other folder about what might be of a human battery filed under AthEna6. Only she has the secret names none of the doctors White and S. used for any of them, maybe finding that soft sad bunny looking around for a bus that's not coming would tell the way it starts. She's ever so mysterious and soft spoken, they tried so hard to burn her good, but it never took, it never caught just kept it collected and carried inside. Quiet girl looking for your parasite princess before you burn a hole in the sky.

Oh and those parasites, in such great quantities of conservation - did you know their eggs are so small they don't break surface tension. That's where all roads travel in the cathedral, deep in the depths, a pit grotesque of rotting flesh and corpse of pastors past, offal and excrement and cum and piss all ferment for the sake of feeding the wasps. Which aren't even wasps, by the way? Despite the deception, the fertile queens flying round the cathedral of foul decay, await bodies tested for density and plasticity. They're territorial you see, and conditional to such rare moments in the corpse that few ever recover.

They kill each other at birth, they eat their mother to survive, and in the body of parasite Alice, woke to the worm, the joyous discovery heralded by the open tomb to find her feasting on the other three corpses aside. The zombie worms, which aren't even zombies you know? They feed on decay, they need neurological tissue to build and rebuild. They pour out their guts figuratively but literally puke their brains and nervous system into the host all the better to restring their puppet. Perhaps they'll tell the story at the start.

Or it could be simple as Iggy, round the block they call him KZap as a soft joke. Pushing his wheels over that sidewalk that's busted to shit with all the bags of trashed out plastic and dead rot and banned cassettes. Some really good demos left circling the bins, a little wiffy but they play as good as any others, to say terrible. And down that fateful fly infested cul de sac, midst a pool of some abandoned butcher's cuts a long lean dead girl covered in grotesque white worms up her spine and head, arms and legs wrapped up in gleaming whirlpool death, spiked through with a dozen and more empty ports yawning for swords. She's dead, Iggs, and all that's left is a rage for the cold metal and cold world that ate this kid alive, but you can use it, your own singing strung net could grow and show more people the safety that comes from being allowed to dream. At least that's how you see it, Iggy, as you wheel yourself home, dead legs hooked over your shoulder and a her broken open skull dragging and grinding down a little more each foot. Then again, how carefully do you treat half an empty skull? More careful than you think.

Might could do, or Mercury Lynche, Rockefeller, the Inferno Raven, that bitch Dr. Stevenson, they all got something in the door. A collective of ten thousand kinds of different agonies but who's even counting them up these days? It's about to get innovative.

It is possible I'm leaning too hard into the concept of a parasite POV protagonist which explores what it means to make yourself into the shape of another body (re the starfish comic and a bunch of bits in it), when the body in question is a trans woman who has undergone a severe amount of involuntary biomechanical body modifications, in an experimental attempt to utilize her poorly understood mutated nervous system as a kind of living weapon against a parallel universe which is inadvertantly unraveling our own world in isolated but escalating highly destructive incidents involving sudden explosive release of energy where they intersect.

But when the events proved fruitless, leaving her wracked with trauma and metastasized cancer, they threw her into a care home / prison where she died of the aforementioned cancer, and this is all in service of answering the question of where The Body which becomes the host originates. However, being as the parasitoid mutant blind millipede colony does not enter a corpse with a template, and merely threads into whatever pre-existing physical and neurological systems are part of the host corpse as-is, not only is the colony collectively entrapping itself within the boundaries of a host body, but it is operating on the assumptions that all the surgical and hormonal alterations, as well as the cancer, are a part of the body which they should also include in the neural network they extend themselves into.

Meaning the actual outcome is the world as seen through a parasite colony which, as it consumes and partially replicates both nervous system and brain of the host, believes itself to inhabit the world as a human, while in actuality it is oblivious to the fact that it now exists as an expression of the traumatic abuse which an authoritarian state under threat will inflict on a human body, as well as the cancerous expression of consequences of this abuse, all stemming from a body which, in a world facing an existential crisis, has an unconventional non-human nervous system which allows it to engage directly with an alternate universe.

Which all plays out because the apathetic management of the care home sold her corpse to a religious order / conservative activism group dedicated to the preservation of the mutant parasitic millipede colonies out of the fervent religious belief the colonies represent the unending cycle of life from life and life from death, and also because the millipede colonies act as natural predators to the Dalton County Dump Roundworm Infestation, which has been taking over large portions of the country via its exponential growth and lack of any competition. So now I have a completely sensible background derived for the parasite colony protagonist who is also fifty percent of the dead trans woman they consumed in the process of infesting her corpse, who is now a kind of holy relic to the temple which infected her, but who also wants retribution for the horrific abuse she suffered, while simultaneously experiencing her twisted and broken body as the correct form as derived by the parasite infestation, which is also her.

Simple.

[dansnaturepictures]

Round up of my wild week 20th-28th May 2023

The past week has been an amazing one for butterflies and moths, with a super lepidoptera day on the 20th seeing my first Marsh Fritillary, Small Blue, Large White and Painted Lady of the year at Magdalen Hill as well as seeing and photographing Pearl-bordered Fritillary at Bentley Wood, and seeing my first ever Common Carpet moth and Mother Shipton of the year not long after and my first Cinnabar moth of the year at Magdalen Hill and Bentley Wood respectively. My quest to see a Brown Argus this year went into another week of Lakeside lunch time and evening walks but I didn’t have to wait long as on a perfect evening walk on Monday, among the oxeye daisies in the growing grassy banks of the bowl area I was thrilled to spot two of these rich and gorgeous gems. We had an amazing experience watching the electric blue of Adonis Blues at Martin Down the day before yesterday. An exceptional species to see. Brown Argus, Common Blue and Marsh Fritillary as well as Grizzled Skipper, Dingy Skipper, Orange Tip, Painted Lady, Small Blue and Cinnabar moth were ones we saw again at Martin Down, with Holly Blue, Small Copper and Green-veined White ones I saw throughout the week bringing a good fluid feel to it. A Brown House moth was good to see at home this week. 

Brown Argus at Lakeside on Monday 

Adonis Blue at Martin Down on Saturday 

There were some sensational bird moments this week too, particularly on 21st getting amazing views of Hobby at Fishlake Meadows and Garganey at Pennington, two of my greatest birds seen this year so far, ones I adore and ones I had been really wanting to add to my year. I’ve had a good week for seeing Buzzards, Red Kites and Kestrels and it has been wonderful to see and hear Cuckoos well throughout the week again with some smashing views at Fishlake Meadows what a spring I’m having for them. I got excellent views of Grey Partridge, Yellowhammer and Corn Bunting again this year at Martin Down and Avocet and Little Tern at Pennington with Garden Warbler at Fishlake Meadows a strong one to see and Greenfinch, Whitethroat and Swift strong constants of the week. As the chick grows in the gully I was excited to get a glimpse of Winnie the Peregrine Falcon at Winchester Cathedral on Thursday lunch time. A big headline of my week for birds was starting to see the juvenile Starlings come into the garden this year, the long-awaited arrival for me of these shiny, joyous and positively noisy birds. I enjoyed seeing goslings, ducklings and the Great Crested Grebe (it was good to see some doing a courtship dance at Pennington too) and Moorhens on nests at Lakeside too. A Grey Heron was a pleasant Lakeside highlight on Friday.

Young Starlings in the garden on Friday 

Peregrine at Winchester Cathedral on Thursday 

It was a bumper week of other wildlife for me especially beetles, with Swollen-thighed beetles seen on an oxeye daisy in the heat and sun on Friday’s Lakeside lunch time walk and interestingly on a daisy in Manchester as we went there for football yesterday. The crimson charm of a Carindal beetle was one I was overjoyed to see at Lakeside on Tuesday too. At Magdalen Hill the Saturday before last and Lakeside on Friday I loved seeing slow worms. A big revelation of my week has been demoiselles, with as is often the case at this time of year my first Banded Demoiselle of the year at Fishlake Meadows on a wonderful sunny day. Then at Lakeside on all three of my lunch time walks this week I saw a Beautiful Demoiselle. It was a pleasure to observe these delicate and alluring insects. Hairy Dragonfly at Fishlake Meadows was good to see and other damselflies especially Blue-tailed were good constants of the week. I liked seeing bees and even a Hornet nearly coming into my room this week too. A Yellow-haired sun fly at Bentley Wood the Saturday before last and also Common Lizards that day were nice too.

Female Beautiful Demoiselle at Lakeside on Friday 

Tuesday’s Lakeside cardinal beetle

My flower week saw a few thrilling firsts with my first ever butterfly orchid at Martin Down on Saturday one of my best flowers seen this year alongside the burnt-tip orchids emerged, top moments with exquisite species. I enjoyed seeing the lakeside common spotted orchids come out on my lunch time walks. My first scarlet pimpernel of the year at Lakeside, horseshoe vetch a real revelation at Magdalen Hill and Martin Down, nice bits of bird’s-foot trefoil, thrift, medick, poppies in the flower bed out the front, milkwort, wood avens, crane’s-bill, sorrel, bright broad-leaved clover, plantain, water dropwort, a trio of oxeye daisies, yellow iris and buttercups painting landscapes, yellow rattle and herb-Robert were other highlights.  

One of the varied crane’s-bills seen this week, a meadow crane’s-bill at Lakeside my first this year at the meadow they will come to dominate. 

Beautiful burnt-tip orchid of Martin Down

What a week for landscapes with so much bright sunshine to use in shots and so much beauty to take in from intense May blossom, glorious emerald scenes, sparkling water, inspiring sky and more. These at Lakeside on Friday evening and Martin Down on Saturday two of my favourites to take.

I am on a pretty busy run of weekends of late with the next three of them for reasons that will be revealed as my daily posts go on very packed. So I will park these weekly posts until the end of June. I will consider at that point whether to rest them for the summer as when I started them in the winter it was largely birds as my full focus at that time of year and less weekend days where we went out in mornings so they were easy to squeeze in. Whereas every facet of my interest is well up and running for the year now, I am seeing different things day to day more so and I’m out on weekend mornings and have other things to do then a fair bit. I also feel since I revamped my posting here the more concise daily posts have still allowed me to convey a lot of feeling, description and context of my wild encounters. I have however really enjoyed exploring posts in this style so I may make my end of the month post for June or if I decide to rest these the rest of the summer a bit more in this style. 

[aiweirdness]

Botober 2021: pls draw the AI a sluggalope

Because I so dearly love it when humans play along when computers ask for silly things, I have generated drawing prompts for #botober2021!

(full plaintext versions on the AI Weirdness blog post, and also at the end of this post, since Tumblr severely limits alt text length)

I've managed to get GPT-3 to follow themes. Here's "animals".

It turns out the model size makes a difference as to how well a neural net can stick with my #botober2021 drawing prompts theme.

The largest GPT-3 model, DaVinci, really got into the Halloween spirit, though as usual it's weird and wordy.

I got the Ada, the smallest GPT-3 model, to generate a list of Halloween #botober2021 prompts but sometimes its link to the theme is a bit tenuous.

Maybe it's a spooky half a cup of milk?

For my last list of #botober2021 drawing prompts I had the DaVinci GPT-3 model follow "Landscapes" as a theme.

If you draw any of these, please tag them with #botober2021 because I'm dying to see how they come out.

For full plaintext, keep reading!

Animals:

- Opossumsaurus

- Rainbow space walrus

- The roars of roosters

- Sluggalope

- Adventurous stone chickens

- Fricken WHALE

- 4D Stegosaurus

- 8-legged cat

- Bearllionaire

- Impossibly cute pudgy birds

- Muppet sharks

- Fluffy space lemur

- Tiny shelled horses

- Angry jelly doughnut

- Roaring Ball of Feathers

- Butter gliders

- Dangerous swans

- Gleaming toads

- Worm That Ate Chicago

- Teeter-totter-rattlesnake

- Loud frilly cows

- Way Too Much Cat

- Steampunk platypus

- Heavenly caterpillar

- Elderly robot pug

- 6 legged wombatquail

- Angry eohippuses

- Firefly squid

- Porcelain squirrel

- Fabled unicycle beavers

- Godcockroach

Halloween (GPT-3 DaVinci model)

Howling canine ghosts scale the cathedral town pillars

leaves shaped like pumpkin smiles litter the sidewalks

spiderwebs grow luscious on wet pumpkin grins

'thank you' trees lean out of residences

black insects settle leaves

mouth mouth mouth mouth mouth mouth

snaking cobwebs mass on stalks

red eyeballs hit backlit branches

the wet forest steps on soft squirrel skins

murmurous forest insects smell caramel apples

haunting trees grow cuter on lighter dirt

planet-sized moon speaks 'hello'

Thanks for the original drawings, which are utterly delightful.

the night sky kisses blood oranges lined with white

headless animals shiver in their sleep

moustaches creep creepily

slouching gargoyles lay spooky stones

something is sitting in the center of the spectre tapestries

the unseen graveyard stretches for miles

deep-skulled jack-o'-lanterns smell the warmth of my nose

this town is filled with orange dust

mist-sheep chew on tombstones

a scarecrow cuts a pumpkin with a sharp scythe from a wooden block

the graveworm snatches out the eyes of strangers who come by

mist lamps glow with circling green and orange and green and orange and green and orange and green and orange and green and orange and green and orange and green and orange...

monsters crawl through alien fur

spooky house skulls peeking out of the dreamlike brambles

gangly moonlit grave rabbits lurk outside the windows

murder rats roam the streets below the buried Earth

a shrub plays the banjo from the shadows

pumpkins melt quietly, quietly

the white skull leans out of the tower of the Palace of the End

Halloween (GPT-3 Ada model)

1. The masked skeleton

2. The question mark from a box

3. Excuse me a minute a giant sphere

4. Five water bubbles in a crate

5. The goliath

6. Half a cup of milk

7. The super hero skull

8. A flappy spider

9. A flappy tea

10. Parts of a cow

11. Parts of a giraffe

12. Robots are weird

13. The watermelon fountain

14. The ghost in the closet

15. One spark walking to the other side of the room

16. Dangerous drops

17. A bat bat bat bat bat bat bat bat bat bat bat

18. Cows face the moon

19. Five eggs eggs eggs eggs eggs eggs eggs

20. Ghost traitors

21. The animals belong to space aliens

22. A zombl

23. The bubbleberry

24. No hands

25. The back of a zombie

26. The funny, psychedelic slime

27. Run like a bunny

28. Creepy cats

29. Old flames

30. A mushroom person

31. Holes

Landscapes (GPT-3 DaVinci model)

Glowing, purple starfish forest

Library of lava

Chalk canyon

Forbidden kale forest

Hillside terrain of hundreds of gray hats

Labyrinth of rocks and steam

Mirror forest filled with reflective crystals

Botanical mazes of white lace and trees

Sea of razors

Greenhouse glade filled with a bubble machine

Noctilucent glaciers

Forest of not-trees

Small rocky islands floating in a sky of lemons

Caverns of glass

Village constructed like the game Mousetrap

Needles of obsidian and frozen squalls

Hospitality space, enviropod

Forest of feather trees and shimmer lights

Ant fort of jeweled pastry, there is a tiny ant fort

Dark carnival caves

Skull forest

Plains of stardust and purple flowers

The fungal kingdom

Fallen horizon

Farm field covered with tiny triangular cups of tea

An outpost of accordion trees

Fortuneteller's grove, toad boulders

Botanical plate tectonics

Geode catacombs

Field of gravity-shifted stones

Perpetual storm field barricaded by a curtain made of clouds