#am a small insignificant insect

[raviollies]

Been having awful mental health weeks and can't even book a pysch appointment because their phone lines aren't working

[seabirdtxt]

Vocem Dei

The Shouki no Kami was built to be the closest thing to an artificial god that humanity could create.

Just how close to divinity does the god-machine get? [p1 - you are here!] [p2] [p3]

Notes: Genshin SAGAU, cult AU, vaguely religious themes. pre-3.2!

WC. 1.5k

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The Shouki no Kami was built to be the closest thing to an artificial god that humanity could create.

Infused with dozens of Divine Knowledge capsules, and powered by liquid energy inspired by the Lord Balladeer’s own divine puppet blood, the machine god had capabilities beyond even Dottore’s own comprehension.

And the good Doctor was oh so eager to find out what would happen if a person were to be plugged into the mainframe.

Nevermind that every scholar who’d tried to use Divine Knowledge capsules lost their minds in the process.

Scaramouche grunts softly with every tube that locks into its socket on his back, the sensation of the machine’s lifeblood beginning to flow through him causing his body’s equivalent of a brain, his databank, to spark painfully. He pushes through it, determined to grasp divinity with both of his unworthy hands even if it’s the last thing he does.

The moment he feels the last tube socket in, an all-encompassing buzzing sensation floods his body, causing him to jolt and spasm uncontrollably. He snarls and grits his teeth, distantly hearing Dottore rattle off some statistics.

The feeling is reminiscent of his birth, when he knew the embrace of the electro gnosis, but amplified by hundreds.

An inhuman scream leaves him, electro bolts coursing across his body and the machine’s as he bows backward, curved over the shimmering tubes and feeling their hotcoldsmoothsharp liquid pulsing through him. He opens his eyes, not aware of when he’d closed them.

Above him, reflected in the ceiling Shouki no Kami’s metal cockpit, Scaramouche can see his own eyes glow so brightly with electro energy that his pupils become white. Purple sparks emit from the corners of his eyes, like tears of pure energy that tumble down the sides of his face contorted in rage and agony. In his mouth, parted in a scream that’s now beyond human hearing, small bolts of lighting sew his teeth together.

Through sheer force of his own will, the face of Shouki no Kami’s cockpit begins to slide closed, just as he hears Dottore announce 100% compatibility.

As the face plates slam shut, the overwhelming sensation of raw power suddenly cuts out and Scaramouche slumps over, held up only by his connection to the tubes in his back. His face nearly collided with the doors in front of him but he stops his descent with his hands, and the sockets in his back pull ominously.

The blessed silence lasts for exactly a minute before being replaced by a strange mechanical sound, almost like a bell ringing.

He lifts his head weakly, turning from side to side to find the source, until he realizes it’s coming from inside his head.

“Wh-” he begins, but is cut off as a clicking noise interrupts him, replacing the ringing with a cordial-sounding voice.

“Hello, who’s speaking?”

“H- hey! Who the hell are you?! I demand to know how you’re speaking to me right now!”

There’s silence for a moment before the voice responds.

“Uh, well, you called me, dude. And I asked first.”

A million thoughts run through Scaramouche’s head as he braces his hands against the face plates of the cockpit, pushing himself back upright with a noise of frustration.

“Do you even know who I am? When I find out who you are I will put an end to your insignificant insect life- wait, what do you mean I called you?”

“... You… You called me, and I answered…” The voice says hesitantly, a tone of amusement filtering into their words. “That’s how calling usually works, right?”

Scaramouche rubs his temples, shaking his head. “I… called you? I don't even know who you are. How did you get in my head?”

“... in your- you know what? This is weird, dude. I’m gonna hang up now.”

“Wait!” Scaramouche blurts out before he can even realize he’s done it. “Don’t… don’t go! At least tell me who you are?”

The silence is deafening, and for a moment Scaramouche is sure he’s been left alone, and then the voice returns…

… Saying the name of Teyvat’s overarching deity. Greater than the Archons. Greater than Celestia. Greater than even the Traveller, who originated from beyond this world.

Incredulous, Scaramouche repeats after you, following up with: “Is- is that right? That’s your name?”

“... Yes? Should it not be?”

Scaramouche lets out a peal of elated laughter, the tubes in his back rattling with the movement. Unbelievable. He did it! He attained godhood beyond even the power of the Archons; he made direct contact with the Divine Creator themself!

“Your Grace! I can’t believe it. It’s me! It’s Scaramouche, the Balladeer, Sixth Harbinger of the Fatui! I can’t even begin to fathom that you deigned answer to my call!”

“Scaramouche? Like from the game?” the voice asks. “Is this some kind of prank?”

“Wait, no, please! No, I swear this isn’t a joke, please believe me! I’ve worked so hard to get to this point, I deserve your recognition!” A hint of desperation bleeds into his voice, and his fists clench where they’re pressed into the walls of the Shouki no Kami’s cockpit. A second passes with no response and a pathetic cry escapes his lips. “Please… not you, too…”

His shoulders and the tubes shake with the force of his muffled sobs, air he doesn’t truly need catching in his throat. He lets his head fall forward, colliding with the metal panels with a dull noise.

“Listen, I’m not sure I believe you,” the voice returns. “But you sound really bad, man. Please don’t cry or anything, okay? I’m kinda in the middle of something right now but I’ll call you back in a bit. If this is some kind of RP thing or whatever, I swear…”

Scaramouche feels it, the second communication is cut. It leaves a void in his skull, right behind his ears, and the silence that once filled the cockpit is replaced with the mechanical whir of the Shouki no Kami, and the metallic sound of hammering.

He swallows and rubs his eyes roughly, scrubbing any trace of tears and briefly thanking the powers that be for having made him a puppet, to exist without the embarrassing functions of blushing or having bloodshot eyes.

He grumbles and looks down at the heel of his palms, noticing that he’d wiped some blood as well. He checks his nose, finding it to be the source, and messily wipes it clean before willing the cockpit’s face plates to open.

Outside, a frantic team of Fatui engineers cheer and hastily pull the doors open, and Dottore pokes his head into the space, seemingly both relieved and intrigued at Scaramouche’s state.

“Well well, my little friend,” Dottore drawls, a shark-like smile spreading across his face. “The god machine, as well as you, has been unresponsive for just under twenty-four hours. We’d nearly feared that we lost you.”

Scaramouche glares at him with a sneer. “You seem so terribly broken up about it. I’m touched by your show of concern."

Dottore doesn’t reply, only acquiescing with a hum. Around him, the engineers are taking stock of the robot’s state and functions, jotting down notes and observing the puddle of Scaramouche’s blood, the evidence of which is still drying on his face.

“Tell me, was the synchronization a success?” the Doctor finally asks, barely holding back a flinch when Scaramouche’s head flies up to face him with a feral grin.

“More than a success,” he raves, his hand coming up to touch the side of his head. “With just a bit more practice, I will ascend higher than even Celestia itself!”

Dottore hides his uncertainty well, but Scaramouche’s eyes are sharper than they were before, and his grin widens at the sight of the Doctor’s expression.

“Very well, let us conclude the test now, then.” Dottore announces, motioning for the technicians around him to disconnect Scaramouche from the machine.

“No.” Scaramouche says, maintaining eye contact with Dottore and remaining stock still as he sends a pulse of electro running down his body, giving a violent shock to any of the technicians who’d been unfortunately too close.

“... No?” Dottore asks with a stiff smile.

“I want to stay connected with the machine,” Scaramouche declares. “Isn’t this the goal? Shouldn’t I spend as much time attuning to the divine energy, so that I may become the perfect god? This is what you designed it for, after all, right?"

Dottore remains silent, with that same plastic smile on his face.

“Very well,” he says curtly. “The Lord Balladeer may remain inside the god-machine. Resume monitoring and record signs of changes.”

The Doctor turns on his heel and steps lightly out of the room before Scaramouche could annoy him further. That suits Scaramouche just fine, as well. He settles back into the cockpit, willing the face plates closed until he’s in solitude once more. He stares at the small puddle of his own blood on the floor; his normal reddish oil-blood mixing with vibrant, glowing purple.

He leans back into the mess of tubes, and smirks.

He’ll eagerly await your next contact.

[generalsdiary]

is this enough for a love confession?

Dr. Ratio x Aventurine

warnings: none

word count: 2k

a/n: idk if this is wht ppl call tsundere, this attacked me at 1am last night and held me in a chokehold until i wrote every single thing veritas had to confess, help? not beta read, aventurine came home guys

description: a small argument tips Ratio over to confess his feelings to Aventurine

„should I apologize?” beat. he tilts his head, annoyment fills the sound of his voice, “should I fucking apologize? for being… what?... capable! of-“ vague gesticulation, “actual conversation, for being ‘smart enough to keep up with you’ and not disappoint?” his tone of voice suggests he is getting agitated by the second while trying to remain calm, “for being a competent conversationalist?” Aventurine scoffs, he takes the black gloves off of his hands along with the jewelry. “you will look at me while I talk to you- or, I’m sorry, is the view of a gambler- below one such as yourself?” he steps forward, taking Veritas’ chin in his hand making the taller man face him. Ratio’s expression appears tired, defeated almost.

Veritas’ eyes turn to meet his. there’s a certain silence, stillness… he knows he set him off by being insensitive or saying something that is triggering to a tired Aventurine. the apology is already dancing on his lips, ready to spill over the soft hills of the plush pink. Veritas hums, “I apologize, I must’ve been careless, although you seem a tad unwell in this moment- perhaps a cold shower would help? furthermore, no, you needn’t apologize.”

“I’m tired of this. I feel like you just don’t care.” Aventurine hisses with disappointment dripping from his words, he lets go of Ratio’s chin and looks away. “I… do not care?” Veritas calmly asks. “Aventurine, is this truly about that or did you have a difficult day?” “can it not be both? and, perhaps, do not undermine me, Doctor.” Aventurine snaps back like a whip.

Veritas sighs, pinching the skin between his brows in thought for a couple of moments. after sorting his thoughts he stands straight and looks at Aventurine who isn’t even turned towards him anymore. his words start low, calm, and slowly crescendo into a louder tone, more confidently, “I care. of course I care. not even a fool would be able to miss how much I care. I stand beside you at this moment and my heart and mind is yours, my body-“ he gives a dry chuckle, “is yours the stomp on. and if you’re expecting some warm, romantic words you’re asking the wrong man, I am a lot of things but I am no romantic.” he looks to the ground, gathering his thoughts once more. “if something happened to you I would never be the same. if anything, I think I’d turn for worse, seeking knowledge that is forbidden for a damn reason just to... bring you back. and, I’d- I’d take you reborn in any shape you’d come.” he takes a deep breath, “I cannot imagine starting my day without embracing you first thing in the morning, smelling your shampoo on the pillows, your hair falling through my fingers like melting gold… I cannot imagine my baths without you annoyingly popping in asking if you can join- or my breakfast without you reading me the day’s news while I complain about the insignificance of it. maybe I’m a creature of habit, and I simply grew used to you and you may argue that.” he falls silent, speaking the next words a tad louder than a whisper, “I yearn to be near you. I gravitate to you like a metal to a magnet; uncontrollably and eagerly. my day feels incomplete when I do not get to share it with you and everything that happened. the weight of your body on top of mine feels comforting at night and I cannot sleep without the pressure on my chest and your scent around me. mentally I feel like I crawl on my knees to get home to see you, like an insect bent over and staying low to the ground. just to get to you and my heart begs to kiss you when I do get home. to taste your lips like drinking mint tea with honey, the freshness because it feels every time like it is the first time, and honey because I cannot resist the sugar the same as any other human. I feel like a parched man without your touch, I can barely breathe when I don’t see you and that damn plaster head doesn’t help to tune it out when I’m sick and you’re my only remedy. and on the days you cannot handle physical contact, I pray that the next day I could be blessed with that exhilarating feeling of kissing your lips. like now… you took off your gloves and I’m weak in my knees like a little boy over how pretty they are- like I’ve never held them before, how delicate they look, how I get to see them, and how I wish to kiss every pretty vein while telling you its name in Latin and its function. what a blessing it would be to hear you giggle at my funny words and gentle touch, and then I’d kiss your knuckles and talk even more; about your bones and joints, naming them and talking all the time like I’m a teenager trying to impress my crush when all I’m doing is rambling as an excuse to look into your beautiful eyes and get your attention on me. you could hate me and I’d be happy you’d use your time on a strong emotion while thinking of me. you are my sun, I circle around you, a moth to the shiniest flame. and perhaps I can now understand believers of religions and sinners because I’d pray for your time and your gaze, and, oh Aeons, I’d sin for you, for your presence, your body, your voice, your everything. so please, please… do not say I don’t care when I would rip the skin off of my own body to keep you warm. I’m yours… Kakavasha, even if it burns me and destroys me from the inside out.” a stumbling love confession, portraying a man lost and needy. with his ending words he steps closer, and rests his forehead on Aventurine’s.

Aventurine feels speechless, he has a full monologue surely ready to give to Veritas if the need arises but for now he looks at him with shaky eyes and a trembling bottom lip, itching to meet his. he outstretches his arm, taking Ratio’s hand in his and the taller man exhales deeply.

“you do care,” Aventurine whispers the only thing that comes to mind. Veritas opens his eyes and stands straight once more. he nods. “perhaps I ought to care less”

“marry me” Aventurine raises his chin, meeting Veritas’ gaze with a sweet smile. “absolutely not. the concept of marriage is idiotic, moreover, I do not require a piece of paper to tell me I am loyal to another” he scoffs, rolling his eyes at the thought of it, making Aventurine chuckle. “hm.. of course not…”

“dinner?” Veritas suggests in a normal tone. “sure, official?” Aventurine suspects this might not be a casual outing. “sadly. we must show up for a dinner event, organized by your employer and mine.” he observes the smaller hand in his, thumb caressing Aventurine’s knuckles. “maybe I’ll find a way for us to leave early.” Aventurine flashes him a smile, “music to my ears, Doc.”

a/n: yes I even sneaked in a Kafka reference in there (the writer not the hsr character), also in case you didn't read it - I wrote a dinner event fluff thingy about them hehe here legato*

[selenacosmic]

I absolutely love the headcanon of MC screaming bc of a spider, can we get a part 2 with the Uesugi-Takeda side plus Kennyo and Kicho?

Hello! I am so glad to know that, thank you for the request.

MC screaming because of a spider pt. 2

Uesugi-Takeda alliance.

Kenshin Uesugi.

Kenshin will be fast to take out his sword, in position to attack whatever scared you. The moment he enters the room, he will attack the large spider with his sword. Though he will consider burning the whole castle down when facing it.

Shingen Takeda.

Shingen will obviously worried, but he will think you are just scared of a small spider. Even if it was a small thing that scared you, he would get rid of it. When he enters the room, though… he will close the door immediately and create a strategy to kill the spider without having to get too close.

Yukimura Sanada.

Yukimura will think that you are exaggerating for being scared of spider, it’s just a small insect and can be easily killed. Still, he will go ahead and get rid of it for you. But the moment he sees the size, he will think it’s some sort of monster. He will hesitate but go forward to kill the spider.

Yoshimoto Imagawa.

Yoshimoto won’t want to get close to it, even if it was a small spider. Instead, he will take you somewhere else so that neither of you have to enter the room. He will ask Yukimura to take care of it instead.

Kanetsugu.

Kanetsugu will think it’s very silly that you are scared of something so small when they live in a world where scarier things exist. He will enter the room and immediately get shocked by the spider’s size. Even though it’s huge, he will take out his sword and attack it.

Sasuke.

Sasuke will think it’s weird that you are scared of a small spider, but then again he is scared of butterflies. He will go to your room to help you with it and regret it when he sees the size. Sasuke won’t be going anywhere near the spider, he will use his ground spikes instead from afar.

Lone forces.

Kennyo.

Kennyo will first calm you down, he understands your fear but could never kill a spider, even if it frightened others. He will go to your room to try find a way to take it to nature safely and be face to face with a very big spider. He will reconsider momentarily to get rid of it but still tried getting it back to nature.

Kichou.

Kichou won’t understand why people from the future get scared by such insignificant insects, it confuses him. But since it bothers you, he will get rid of it to calm you down. The moment he see the size of the spider, though… he will take out his pistol to kill it from far away.

[doodlebuglet3447]

I’ve been having it rough the past month or so. About a week or two ago, I saw a little silverfish on the ground in my school’s library. Just a little guy. Bug-lover I am, I got excited. I thought they were cute. I loved the silver sheen. I took just a few moments out of my day to stand there and admire the beauty of this tiny insect.

At one point it occurred to me that the silverfish didn’t have long to live. Someone else would inevitably come and squish them. It wouldn’t be much, just another insignificant pest removed from the face of the earth. And I found myself at peace with that. Because, while the silverfish would never realize it, they were significant. Just by existing, that little silverfish brought me a huge amount of joy. And when you’re at a low point in your life, it can be hard to find things that bring you joy, and that impact is immeasurable. And that’s a beautiful thing.

Earlier today, I had a mental breakdown. A long-overdue one, if I’m being completely honest. And in the midst of it, I found myself thinking of that little silverfish, how most people who looked at them likely saw a small, meaningless pest, and how, while they will never know it, that little silverfish made a huge impact on my life. And that’s a beautiful thing.

Then I realized that we are all that silverfish. In the grand scheme of things, we’re all just beings on a rock in the vastness of the universe. We’re insignificant. But we all have the power to make an impact on someone else’s life. Could be as large scale as helping a friend through a rough patch or as simple as smiling and saying hi to someone you pass on the side of the road. And by smiling and saying hi, while you will never know it, you may have just made that person’s entire day. And that’s a beautiful thing.

[astral-rendezvous]

The Demise of Gorgon Malix

CW: self-harm, mentions of violence

Chapter one of a cheesy/darkish fantasy I'm working on

~~~

With a breathless sigh, the infamous villain, Lord of the Western Provinces Gorgon Malix, took the final strides up the Stairs of Undying Power, putting him an arms-length away from the Elixir of Immortality. Before he began one of his typical bloviated victory speeches, his attention was swayed by a gossamer lavender butterfly that momentarily landed on his hand. He briefly pondered the creature's beauty, but found himself puzzled, for the butterfly reminded him of someone, yet he could not recall who or why. As a man with many enemies, a sudden sense of familiarity was never a good thing, it often signaled an old enemy in an ineffective disguise. Yes, even butterflies could not be trusted.

But this day, no enemy, not even the most powerful one, had to be feared, for Gorgon Malix himself was mere seconds away from becoming immortal. Finger by finger, he removed tight leather gloves. First he freed the left hand, then the right hand. He took a deep breath in and glanced over his shoulder. All he saw was the brilliant green of the forest; all he heard was the wind and intermittent buzzes of various insects. He was filled with not an insignificant amount of disappointment, for he had hoped his archenemies would be near enough to witness this divine moment. As much as he wanted to watch the despair on their plebeian faces as he drank the elixir, he knew better than to let his enemies get too near before becoming immortal, so he decided he could wait no longer.

He begrudgingly grabbed the elixir from the branch it was poised upon. It was self-contained in a sphere that rippled as he laid his hands on it. A smile bigger and more sinister than any he had ever donned, spread from cheek to cheek. As he brought the sphere to his lips, he heard the cracking of branches from below. The loyal and indefatigable knight, Winston Rendlesham, had arrived.

“Don’t you dare drink that!” the knight bellowed helplessly from below.

Gorgon Malix spun on his heel with glee. “Finally, you are here to witness my ascension to immortality! You must feel endlessly hopeless now! Bask in your despair!” Without a further word, he sunk his teeth into the sphere and devoured its oozing contents. After he drank the last drop, The Immortal Lord of the Western Provinces, Gorgon Malix, descended the Stairs of Undying Power with the proper, maniacal laugh of a triumphant villain.

At the base of the tree, Rendlesham had been joined by a few of his fellow knights as well as his good friend, Mati the Small but Brave.

Malix took a deliberate pause as he reached the last five steps before the forest floor. 

“You have two choices, Rendlesham,” he stepped down. 

“You can surrender to me.” 

Another step.

“And become my loyal servant,” he stepped again.

“Or,” he lingered on the word and took the penultimate step.

“You can die by my hand.”

He placed both feet on the forest floor and waited for their reactions, but the expected cries and screams did not come. Malix had been so sure that he would be met with faces filled with terror, that he had not yet looked in the eyes of his victims. When at last he did look up, he found that their faces did not show fear or despair. On the contrary, a few of the knights looked relieved and Rendlesham silently smirked. 

The smile vanished from Malix’s face. “What is this ruse? Why aren’t you cowering before me? Did you miss the part where I, your archnemesis, became immortal?”

“Is someone going to tell him?” Mati asked in her quiet, monotone way.

“Tell me what?” Malix demanded as he lowered his brow.

It was Rendlesham’s turn to laugh now and his laugh was every bit as villainous as Malix’s laugh had been minutes ago. “Oh, he’ll find out soon. It should take effect any second now.”

“What’s going to take effect? What have you done, Rendlesham? What could you have done? I am immortal now!” Malix raised his voice, which sounded far more panicked than he intended.

Rendlesham let out a satisfied little hum. “Maybe it’s already working. You see the thing is, Alex, you aren’t immortal. Mati beat you to the top of the stairs and switched out the elixir.” 

Gorgon Malix’s face went white and he grabbed at his throat. Now he knew why that butterfly had seemed familiar, and all the terror and despair he had wished on his enemies washed over him instead. “No, no, no, no!” he yelled frantically, “what have you done? What did I drink?”

“You’ll know soon enough, Alex. It already seems to be working.” Rendlesham’s grin grew wider and wider.

There was no question anymore, this was no ruse. All the denial that Malix had clung to melted away, leaving nothing but hopelessness in its wake. “Why do I feel this way? What have you done? What has happened to me?”

The visceral look of terror in Malix’s eyes was so powerful, even some of Rendlesham’s knights found it hard to watch. Mati looked away entirely as the villain fell to his knees sobbing.

“FIX IT! FIX IT!” Malix screamed through his sobs as he crawled towards Rendlesham.

Rendlesham kneeled down and put his hand on Malix’s shoulder. “It’s a potion that obliterates your will to live. You know exactly how to fix it, Alex.” Rendlesham drew a dagger from Malix’s belt and handed it to him.

Rendlesham stood and backed away as Malix pressed the dagger into his own stomach. Dark, viscous blood pooled beneath the ruined man as his body slowly slumped into the dirt. 

“End…my misery…” Malix begged with strained breath.

Rendlesham paid no heed to the request. He turned his back and nodded to his knights. “Well done everyone, time to move out.” 

“Winston…please…help me die…” Malix pleaded again.

Rendlesham glared over his shoulder and scoffed. “Suffer.”

As the knights marched away, Mati mustered the courage to take a glimpse at Malix, after all, she was the one who had delivered the poison. She felt no joy watching him writhing on the ground. “Winston,” she began softly, “why does it feel like I’ve done the wrong thing?”

“Trust me, he deserves this. Think of all the suffering he caused,” Rendlesham responded.

Still disturbed by the results of her actions, she continued, “and now I have caused suffering. My actions made a person suffer.”

These were the last words Gorgon Malix heard before everything faded away.

[homelessnerdwrites]

Character Intro! The Lost One

My people were simple, we had a simple name for our species. We called ourselves the Lost. We knew there were others out there beyond the stars, but we had no hope of contact unless they came to find us. Occasionally a ship would land, pick a few plants or take some rocks, and leave. We did not know what these things were at first, but eventually we learned through observation that they had other beings inside and so we understood it was a vehicle that could cross the horizon into the Black. 

For many generations the Black cast fear and despair into the depths of our society, but that is a tale for another time. Now I look down on my blazing world, blindingly bright flashes popping out when the flames hit mineral deposits on the surface. I am the last one, on a ship, at a distance from my home that I have never known before. I couldn't know such destruction was possible.

For a long time I just stare out the window as the planet fades. It goes from ablaze in front of me to a bright star in the distance, dying with all the ferocity of the life that used to be on it. I knew we were not large, but I could not fathom how small and insignificant we were until now. 

I now realize I am the last. I am alone. Who would I turn to for comfort? The people on this ship? They are the ones that kept me from saving my lifebond. I pause, tears begin streaming down my face. I sob. I miss her so much. 

I miss her so much.

I miss her. So. Much.

“Name your is what?” The crude, mechanical translator voice interrupts my grief.

“Don’t even try to talk to me.”

The voice is harsh in my ears, so loud against the raging silence in my head. “Word for you feeling what?”

“You know what I’m feeling. You have a translator that works. Don’t even start with me, healers. You think you’re so righteous for stopping death, and yet you just annihilated my entire planet and left me lost.”

“Name your is what?”

“Why do you want my name? Will it get you to STOP BOTHERING ME AND LET ME GRIEVE?! Just. Leave me alone. I don’t see why you think you can talk to me.”

I am not given a bed.

The next “day” is more questions. More questions I don’t have energy to answer.

“What eat you?”

I am hungry despite my grief. “Plants. Meat. Whatever.” A plate with food is slid through the door. They won’t let me out.

“Food you like?”

I take a bite. “...Yes.”

I settle for food and let them be to themselves. They are clunky, and interacting with them feels mechanical, like they are forced to do things step by step. I just wish they would at least let me out of this room, I’m smart enough to not jump off the ship. It’s not like that would change anything. I’m not anything special to study or some sort of anomaly, I’m just a normal person grieving the loss of my everything.

Weeks go by. I learn their language. They learn mine. I see them for the first time. They speak to me without the translator for the first time. 

I hate them.

They like me. I don’t know why. I am scrutinized like a newly discovered insect. They ignore what they did to hurt me.

I hate healers. They defy the authority of death. They defy what it is that makes life cherished. They defy grief. They will not defy my grief. I will no longer be what I was. I am Grief. I will bring it to their doorsteps and show them what they did to me. And, like death, they will not see it come until it’s too late.

[bnavmo]

mariposa

[craving something that ain’t right for me

idealizing something that ain’t serve me]

like a butterfly i come to you

pretty flower covered in dew

but then you make it clear

(how you’re so full of you)

and then all i feel is fear

(because of what you do)

so much hidden in each tear

(you like it when i feel blue)

the tunnel that opens into your eyes

and the smirk on your face when you roll the dice

but ambition makes you look pretty ugly

superficial and cold-blooded, the opposite of lovely

although an interstellar relationship

navigates as humankind’s situationship

i won’t encode your apocalyptic behavior

because in all honesty, i’m not you savior

every cell in my body

dancing like it’s a party

but when the poison enters my body

i turn into the best version of nobody

paralyzed, crystallized

forever my spirit immortalized

materialized, desensitized

never have i ever been so mesmerized

i pay respect for my emotional needs

because i’m just an insect laying down in the weeds

and i’ve turned down most of my desires

because unkindness always backfires

and i can’t control the outcome

because i don’t know if my heart and soul will ever become

if they’ll ever become one

[cómo sonaría esa canción que pudiese describir el último momento en el que seas consciente de que tienes un cuerpo físico?

y qué imágenes serían aquellas

proyectadas por tu mente en ese momento tan específico?

cuáles serían las melodías?

entenderías las galimatías?

dime, vivirías en paz tus últimos días?]

but, who am i?

tell me, what am i?

and who are we?

who are we to be?

and what have we?

tell me, who were we?

a donde sea que vaya, me llevo siempre conmigo

y aunque no te conozca, anhelo toda una vida contigo

una casa pequeña en tamaño, pero enorme en calidez

y un jardín lleno de flores, con paz y mucha sensatez

[mariposa is about how sometimes in life we need to cut ties with certain individuals for the sake of our own wellbeing. bnavmo starts off by describing that something doesn’t feel right, which turns out to be a relationship that isn’t doing him any good. he cares about this person and sees them for who they truly are; however, the other person is pretty narcissistic and doesn’t even bother to care about him the same way he does. while bnavmo craves connection and reciprocity, the other person values the surface-level things more. but then bnavmo realizes that the way the other person acts has nothing to do with him, and that he can’t heal other people’s traumas. in addition, bnavmo analyzes how someone else can have such a big impact on ourselves. in this case, he feels completely intoxicated because he picked up some traits from the other person. these traits are negative and send him straight to a dark place. once the storm passes, bnavmo uses metaphors to point out how: even though he’s an insignificant particle, he still has emotional needs that need to be respected; he gave up many things he wanted to not affect others; and he can’t control the outcome of life, despite his feelings. bnavmo then shows us a piece of his inner mologue, which focuses on those thoughts, feelings and memories that we may have before we die, just to emphasize the importance of living in the present and knowing that everything’s temporary. bnavmo also asks himself some heavily existential questions, like who am i? what’s my purpose here? and who are we now? who were we before? he wraps up by telling us how he wants to be forever with somebody he doesn’t know yet, referencing nostalgia for craving a deep connection that he’s sure will come into his life at some point. he also mentions how the small things can turn out to be the most significant ones, the ones that can make you happy]

[ask-mike-crew]

Well. I said ‘what if’ not that I AM an Eye avatar (thought I could be. Make no sense to fuck around with you). Besides, what if I’m not an avatar at all? You can’t see me

i also said you sound like an avatar, not that you were one. in fact, i doubt you are an avatar. you are more likely an insect. a tiny, insignificant speck of dust. you are finite enough to be crushed beneath my heel in an instant. i am myself small. therefore you are nothing.

excuse me. i’ve had a bad day.

[smileygoth]

21. First Bite Tastes Best

I'm back (hopefully)!!! Sorry for the gap in posts folks, I will try my damnedest to get the rest of the chapters out before the 31st!

Part 21 of my WODtober story. Taking the daily prompts and trying to weave a vampire story from them! In this chapter, Imogen and Eliza go hunting.

Word Count: 2121 words.

CW:  Blood, violence, death, implication of rape/assault, brief mention of rats and bugs.

Image from Getty Images.

Find the previous chapters here!

‘I’m hungry,’ Imogen said, as they walked back to her haven. ‘Why am I so hungry? It hasn’t been that long since-’ She thought of Emma, and stopped.

Eliza’s response was gentle. My blood is changing you. I was old. My thirst could only be slaked by the blood of our own kind. You shouldn’t reach that point anytime soon, but you will need to feed a little more often than you used to, I’m afraid. And your companion … She was very young.

‘She didn’t pack enough punch for you, huh?’ Imogen remarked bitterly. ‘She was just an appetiser?’

Eliza remained silent.

Imogen sighed wearily and went on. ‘Well, anyway, I need to hunt and there’s not much left of the night, so…’

How do you do it? Eliza asked.

‘I don’t know. Find a bar, find a guy. The usual.’

Eliza’s disapproval radiate through Imogen’s mind. Sounds humiliating. Would you allow me to take the lead?

Imogen thought about refusing, but she was mentally and emotionally exhausted. The thought of letting Eliza take control and just sinking into the background for a while was too tempting to resist. ‘Sure,’ she said. ‘But don’t shut me out. I want to know what’s going on.’

Of course, Eliza agreed. And you can take back control at any time.

With that, Eliza pushed forward, and Imogen let her. She felt that strange pressure, the weightless falling sensation as she settled into the back of her own mind, the illusion of looking out through her own eyes from a distance, almost like a movie playing on a screen she couldn’t look away from. Her hunger became distant too, tickling vaguely like some irritating but insignificant insect. Mostly, she felt nothing. It was … peaceful.

Eliza flexed Imogen’s fingers, settling into her skin and bones. Each time she did this she felt more at home in this body, felt her old strengths returning. She felt that if she had enough practice, she’d be her old self entirely - excepting of course her appearance - before too long. The hunger Imogen had complained of bloomed in her stomach. It wasn’t that bad - she was hardly starving - but all the same Eliza relished the chance to stretch her limbs, as it were, and see what she could do.

Old Road, where they had met the activists, was long and boring, home to only dark warehouses and empty plots of land at this end, but it led straight into the heart of the city. It was past 2am and no one was around, so Eliza quickened her pace, first breaking into a run and then moving with preternatural speed, relishing the rush of air on her cheeks and in her hair. As she ran she opened her senses to the world, letting all the sights, sounds and smells in.

She found herself approaching a small park as she slowed her pace just outside the very centre of the city. Here the streetlights were all working and the occasional late or early worker passed by on foot or in their car, so she had to move slowly, like they did. She detected the park from over a block away, drawn by the scent of wet earth and the stealthy sounds of the wildlife. Among the city’s tall buildings they called to her like an oasis in a parched desert. Before long she was walking through a tall pair of iron gates into a manicured gardens that had been sadly neglected over the winter months. Hardy weeds sprouted in the naked flowerbeds and moss grew on the cracked paths. Eliza smiled to see nature in action, reclaiming itself from the neat, well-behaved facade it had been forced into. So many humans failed to understand the true savagery of nature … which worked to the advantage of the predators who hunted them.

She slipped into the shadows beneath an oak tree to one side of the path as her keen ears picked up the sound of someone walking through the park ahead of her. High hells tapped a rapid staccato rhythm on the asphalt path. Into the glow of a streetlamp hurried a young woman, poorly dressed for the weather. Her legs were bare beneath a short skirt, the rest of her outfit covered with a leather coat that she was holding closed. A tiny handbag swung from one wrist. Her blonde hair was falling out of its teased, sprayed style in the damp night air. What caught Eliza’s attention was the smeared mascara around her eyes, the faded lipstick on her lips, and the haste in her steps as she glanced repeatedly and fearfully behind her. She was already being hunted, and she knew it. Eliza lifted her eyes beyond the woman, waiting to see who followed.

Sure enough, a group of three men materialised from the darkness, all walking to match the woman’s speed, their hungry eyes glued to her. Eliza took in the way they wore their hats and hoods to shadow their faces, the way they sneered and licked their lips. One carried something metallic in his hand; one was palming his crotch through his jeans even as he walked. Her lips curled back in a disgusted snarl. Men such as these were sorry creatures, ready to inflict violence and pain for nothing more than their own sordid pleasures. The only thing they were good for was to carry the blood in their veins to those who would use it better … assuming they hadn’t polluted it beyond use.

Animals, Imogen muttered from the corner of her mind.

Worse than animals, Eliza thought back to her. Animals don’t make their prey suffer like these men intend to. And they don’t do it for fun.

The young woman hurried past Eliza’s hiding place, heels tapping urgently. Eliza smelled sweet perfume and alcohol and sweat. She’d been out dancing, gotten separated from her friends somehow, and now was left to get home alone. Eliza watched her pass in silence. She took a deep breath and extended her sense out, into the trees and plants around her. They were weak, sleepy, hindered by the constraints forced upon them by the humans, but they responded. They would help where they could.

The three men passed by Eliza with not the slightest idea that she was there. As they did, a branch of the oak tree dipped suddenly down, the thin twigs its end flicking out like whips. They caught the nearest man in the face, knocking his hat from his head. He recoiled, stumbling, one hand pressed to his face. ‘Fuck!’ he cried. ‘Fucking tree hit me in the eye!’

His two friends paused. ‘Watch where you’re fucking going, man,’ one of them hissed. The other was still watching the woman, who had sped up a little and was almost at the gates. ‘Hurry up,’ he urged, and the two of them started forward again. The nearest lowered his hand from his eye and grumbled under his breath. ‘Fuck you guys, I’m fucking bleeding!’

He was - Eliza could smell it. As his two friends got further away, Eliza crept out of the shadows, her feet making no sound on the damp grass. Before he even knew she was there she had pounced onto his back, her weight making him stumble backwards. She wrapped her arms around him and drove her fangs into the side of his neck. He let out a yell of surprise, then went limp in her arms. He tasted like beer and anger and weed and hatred and though it stung her like fire, it was delicious.

His two friends turned back when he yelled, their faces going slack with surprise as they saw him crumple in the arms of a woman nearly half his size. By the time they started to run back to him, Eliza had already drained him of more blood than he could lose and live. His heart was stuttering helplessly as she dropped him to the floor and stepped over him to meet his friends. When the first one reached her, she grabbed two fistfuls of his hoody and swung him around and off of the path, sending him crashing into the bushes. The plants’ supple branches twisted around him like vines, holding him in place, small thorns catching in his clothes and hair. He yelled in surprise and thrashed wildly, trying to escape. The second was swinging a punch at Eliza’s head as she turned back to meet him. She dodged it easily before swinging a punch of her own into his stomach. He folded easily, the breath leaving him with a loud whoosh and a stink of alcohol and marijuana. She grabbed his head in both hands and pulled him up to face her. She felt a light punch at her hip, a dim flower of pain, and ignored it. Baring her bloody fangs long enough to see the horror dawn in his eyes, she pulled him close as if to kiss him, then tore out his throat. The blood flew out in a strong spray and she drank it open-mouthed. 

Once he was dead, she let his lifeless body fall from her grasp and turned to the last one. He was still struggling to free himself from the bushes she had thrown him into, but he saw her coming, her face and clothes splattered with his friends’ blood, and he started to whimper and cry. Like a child, the tears flowed down his cheeks. Looking at him, she saw that he was barely in his twenties. 

‘What are you?’ he gasped in terror. ‘What are you?’

She snarled at him. ‘I am the consequences of your sins, I am every woman you have ever laid a hand upon. I am your death.’

His whimpers turned into wails. ‘I’m sorry!’ he cried. ‘I never done it before, I swear! I didn’t even want to! I was just trying’ to fit in with them!’

Bending over him as he crouched half-ensnared in the bushes, Eliza looked deep into his dark, tearful eyes. ‘Tell me the truth,’ she growled, pushing the force of her presence against his weak, stuttering mind.

‘It is the truth!’ he sobbed, his voice turning shrill. His eyes widened even more, the whites showing starkly against his dark pupils. ‘I swear! I swear! God, I’m so sorry!’ A sudden sharp stench of urine stung Eliza’s nose. The boy has pissed himself.

She stepped back. ‘Go,’ she said dully. ‘And don’t disappoint me, child. I will be watching.’

The bushes relinquished their hold on him, and he stumbled out of them and onto the path. With one last fearful glance back at Eliza, he fled from the park, taking the opposite direction to the young woman he had been following with his friends. 

Wiping the blood from her face, Eliza turned to the bodies on the ground. A twinge of pain in her hip made her look down. The handle of a knife was sticking out of her hip. With a grimace more of annoyance than pain, she seized it and pulled it out. The slim blade came out cleanly without much pain. It was a flick-knife, and a nice one. She wiped it clean on her hoody and shoved it into her jeans pocket. It might come in handy later. Then she lifted first one corpse, and then the other, and tossed them into the bushes. The branches swallowed them with a dry rustle. 

Imogen spoke up. That was really cool! 

Eliza smiled in satisfaction. I know.

Are you just going to leave the bodies there, though? Someone will find them before too long.

Eliza closed her eyes, once again reaching out with her senses, but this time she reached out to the wildlife. She sensed the birds sitting quietly in the tall branches of the trees, the rats huddled under bushes and behind the bins, the insects clinging to the twigs and buried in the soil, all of them silent, waiting for her - the predator - to leave. She told them that she meant them no harm. She told them where the bodies had fallen, and she called them to feast. 

The undergrowth shivered with movement. Suddenly the park came to life; birds burst from the treetops, rats flooded out from the bushes, more than even Eliza had suspected were there. The tiny buzz and zip of flies and other insects hummed past her ears. And they all descended upon the bushes where the two bodies were hidden. Eliza’s smile widened. They may be found, she thought to Imogen, But there won’t be much left to find.

That’s gross, Imogen responded.

‘Why?’ Eliza said aloud. ‘We all have to eat.’

[tangerinni]

Who said I wanted Jiang Cheng to approve of how I use him like the town bicycle lmao??

I don't want JC to like me!! (I'm not a JC toxic stan for nothing!! I am toxic!! I dont want him to like me!!)

Him hating me makes it 10x better tbh I want him to look at me like I'm dirt from the bottom of his shoe!!!!

I want him to look at me as if I were a small insignificant worthless insect to him!!

I want him to tell me to stay the f*ck away from him bc I'm not worth his time!!!

I want him to call me a disgusting pervert!!

Mfjfjjd it just makes him even cuter and makes me BARK EVEN LOUDER

[thatcheesyler]

Hey, guess what 🤭

A different type of mess

(⚠️Spoilers for episode 8 ahead⚠️)

Summary: Ever since the failed extermination, an unexpected success for all demon kind, the constraints of Alastor's deal with (supposedly) Lilith have been plaguing his mind like never before. In result, it proved to be quite the undoing for our beloved radio demon, his recent improper behaviour not going unnoticed by the hotel's darling housekeeper, Niffty.

-------------------------------------------------

The continuous noise of stabbing against the Hazbin Hotel's creaky floors was far from uncommon, most residents even growing rather fond of it. Of course, the source of this repetitive action was none other than Niffty, the helpful and slightly deranged housekeeper of the hotel, trying to kill every insect in her sight. To say that this little cyclops demon liked cleanliness was more than an understatement, she thrived purely on her obsession with tidying up.

Basically, she despises mess with her entire small being, but sometimes the mess isn't always a pile of debris scattered across the ground. In this case, for example, it's her deer friend (haha, 'dear', 'deer', see what I did there?) that is proving himself to be more of a mess than any knocked over rubbish bin or discarded heap of dirty clothes.

Out of all the sinners at the hotel, Niffty never would have expected Alastor as the first to completely lose his mind. She never even knew he'd made a deal with Lilith until Husk drunkenly confessed it to her one night. But, witnessing the overlord struggle to remain composed when someone so much as uttered the words 'deal', 'contract' or 'agreement' had to be one of the strangest things to experience, and bear in mind, she killed Adam, the leader of the god damn exorcists.

Today was no different, although he contentedly ate his cannibalistic breakfast in the morning like usual, he wasn't nearly quite as interactive, now mostly spending his time having several mental breakdowns in the new radio tower, where no one could observe his frantic state as he paced back and forth, a terrible habit he had unfortunately picked up a few days prior. The degrading voices in his head never ceased, teasing him, taunting him, a consistent reminder of just how foolish he was to make that godforsaken deal.

"You've lost your pathetic control."

"Nobody gives two shits about your power"

"Sir?"

"You are weak, you allowed Lilith to walk all over you like a withered doormat."

"Sir?!.."

"If you hadn't made that decision, you would be relishing in the screams of Lucifer himself. Instead, you chose to be a wasteful, insignificant, utterly useless piece of-"

"SIR!!" A squeaky little voice and loud knocking from below broke him from his self-destructive trance, one gloved hand shakily wiping up the tears that Alastor didn't realise had formed, that same hand balling into a tight fist. How could he have let himself become so vulnerable in the span of only a couple minutes? The radio demon took a sharp breath through his yellowed teeth, forcing that same old enthusiastic mindset onto himself before opening up the trapdoor for Niffty.

"Why hello there, darling Niffty! What dark and twisted desires would you wish to have fulfilled this time my dear?" Alastor inquired, leaning forward on his cane as the smaller demon clambered up into the radio tower with him. "You haven't been yourself lately, I can tell. Please tell me about it! Please please pleeeaase!" Straight to the point as always, Niffty stared excitedly up at him and watched with intruige as he stiffened a bit, bright red pupils darting to the side for a millisecond before he began to play off her almost scarily good observation skills.

"Now now, dear, I'm not quite sure what you're on about, but I can assure you that I am perfectly fine, haha!" Alastor chuckled, hands subconsciously fiddling as they were now crossed behind his back, call it a nervous reaction, I suppose. Niffty gazed at her friend in suspicion, eye squinting as the cogs in her head turned vigorously. "Hmmm...nope! Sorry Alastor, but I disagree. Your shoulders are tensed, your legs are shaking ever so slightly, and your ears are in airplane mode."

"I'm sorry they're in what now?..Nevermind, doesn't matter. It would appear I've underestimated your perseverance, but, I still refuse to talk about it. So, Niffty I would appreciate it if you were to leave me alon-"

"Nuh uh!"

"I-..what?"

Crossing her arms defensively over her chest, the cyclops demon stood her ground. "I wanna knoowww! Tell me, tell me, tell me pleeasee!" She whined, bouncing on the heels of her tiny feet. This was bad, Niffty could never be trusted with keeping secrets, so even if Alastor did tell her, she'd probably end up revealing it during one of Charlie's strange trust exercises. "Little one, if you are so eager to hear my insignificant woes, then you're going to have to try harder than that."

"Challenge accepted!" The other demon announced shortly after, standing notoriously with her hands on her hips, before suddenly bolting towards Alastor and clambering on top of his head at the speed of light. "Excuse me-?...Niffty, I don't know what in the nine circles you think you're doing, but if you seriously believe that you can overpower me, then- EEP!" His little speech was interrupted by the sensation of a light scratching at the base of his wendigo ears, involuntarily allowing a tiny squeak to slip through. Eyes widening significantly, his brows furrowed in shameful realisation as a faint tinge of pink dusted over his grinning cheeks, that same grin now starting to wobble from newfound giggles threatening to spill past it.

Pressing his teeth as firmly together as he could, Alastor rushed to try and push her off of him, vigorously shaking his head from side to side like a puppy ridding its fur of excess water. Unfortunately he only succeeded in making his ears fluff up during the process, looking like quite the scruffy individual afterwards. What a mess he was..

Oops. Guess he forgot that the one on his head was the physical embodiment of cleanliness. And right on cue, Niffty was staring creepily down at the Alastor with a hairbrush now in-hand. How it miraculously got there, not even I wanna know. "Niffty..don't.you.d-AHAHAREE! NOHOHOHOHO!!"

Too late, the cyclops was already brushing away at his ears. The base, the insides, not even an inch of the wendigo demon's sensitive ears was to be spared by his determined little friend. Alastor collapsed on the spot, uncharacteristic giggles bombarding his every breath as his head thrashed away from each agonizingly ticklish stroke of the soft-bristled hairbrush, but this just resulted in his ears fluffing up again. It was an endless cycle of brushing and laughter, Alastor would jerk away from the stupidly gentle touches, and Niffty would be forced to start all over again.

"NIHIHIFFTYHY, IHI SWEAR OHOHON THE NIHIHINE CIHIRCLES- STAHAHAHA-" The poor guy couldn't even finish his sentence, lost in his own static-filled cackles and absolutely helpless to the tiny gremlin on his head right now. Alastor found himself sitting back against the broadcasting desk, legs kicking out frantically. If his deer tail could be seen, everyone would know just how much it was wagging at the moment. The truth was, he wasn't actually too opposed to this 'event'. Not exactly out of character for an attention whore such as himself, but this felt more..personal, much like how an ordinary person would feel when bonding with their favourite person. He had to admit, Niffty's energy was a lovely match for the carnage and morbid entertainment that Alastor's twisted mind yearned for.

But back to the story.

Reluctantly granting him mercy, Niffty scuttled down from his hair and attached herself comfortably to his torso, spidering her midget fingers across his sides and occasionally moving inwards to his stomach before retreating again. "Now will you tell me what's been bothering you, sir? I really wanna know!" She complained impatiently, completely dismissing the slight raise in pitch of Alastor's giggles whenever she ventured closer to his belly.

But he just shook his head, not ready to discuss it. Noticeably, the radio filter over his voice was gradually lessening as Niffty continued, a stark contrast to a few seconds ago where radio static was clearly audible above all else. "I'm sohohohorry, myhy dehehear, but hohohow wohould I behe able to truhuhust yohohu?" It was a valid question, to be fair. As stated earlier, the cyclops wasn't known for keeping her mouth shut when it came to secrets. Perhaps, this one time, she could actually try to do just that, for her best friend.

"I promise, I will not utter a word of it near any soul in the entirety of Hell. You can trust me this time, sir, I'm sure of it." Well, for a 3 foot tall housekeeper with evidently less than one braincell in her miniature noggin, she sure knew how to sound genuine. With a giggly sigh, the radio demon gave in at last, but not without attracting his friend's interest with a very untimely snort that slipped out between his uncontrollable snickers. Alastor's cheeks nearly matched the shade of his suit with how hard he blushed, instantly covering his face with one hand while the other weakly batted at Niffty's nimble fingers (you could practically call them nubs at this point).

"Did you just snort?! That was so cuuute! Do it again, do it again!" She demanded, excitedly skittering along his sides and tummy once more. "Nohohoho! Cehehahase! Unhahand me fohohoul creheheature- *snort*, I dehespihihise yohohou!" A rapid fire of meaningless insults was thrown at her. It was his last resort, as the radio demon would never stoop to the low bar of begging.

Though when his laughter began to grow breathy and tired, Niffty understood that Alastor had reached his limit and jumped off of him with ease, waiting for him to regain his stamina with a content smile (even when content, she still looked f*cking insane). The wendigo demon did exactly that, one hand covering his ever upturned mouth to smother the quiet residue giggles that radiated off of him, while the other rubbed at his ears and torso to eliminate the phantom tingles.

Whether he'd be too embarrassed to admit it or not, there was no denying the shocking amount of weight that had been lifted from his otherwise burdened shoulders. Maybe this whole thing had been Niffty's type of interrogation, but it still felt like such a friendly gesture. Maybe, just possibly, he could trust her with this secret after all..

Needless to say, Alastor might just risk showing a little more negativity when Niffty was nearby, as he now knew it would carry such a positive solution.

-------------------------------------------------

RAHHH, THIS TOOK ABOUT A MONTH AND I'M NOT TOO PROUD OF IT BUT YH

Tysm for inspiring this idea, @moongeonight, I had a lot of fun crafting the scenario 😁

Also sorry if the ending is a bit rushed, I need to go to bed soon and I didn't wanna end up abandoning it again 😭

Now hear me out, I just finished hazbin hotel and I need someone to do the idea of ​​niffty really trying to tickle alastor, just saying...

[dragondogerin]

Many years ago, when my parents were still making me go to church, my dad and I went on a canoing trip with a church group. Idk if there was a religious purpose to the whole thing, but I like to be outdoorsy sometimes and it sounded fun. We spent about a week in the boundary waters between the US and Canada, paddling during the day and then finding a place to camp for the night.

A bunch of us illegally set foot on the other side for the sole purpose of taking a piss, because boys will be boys (some boys will later turn out to be girls, but that's beside the point). My dad remarked that if the other guy in our canoe used his oar as much as his mouth, we'd have gotten a lot farther.

The thing that stands out to me about this trip though, all these years later, is the first night. We found a clearing on the shore where we set up camp, and we cooked steak over a fire (our one fresh meal for the trip - everything else was freeze-dried). When night fell, the sky was clear, and there were no bothersome insects, so we disregarded our tents and slept under the most incredible night sky I've ever seen.

Forget church. Forget God. Seeing a million stars above me shining so brightly was the most spiritual thing I've ever experienced (next to driving through the Appalachians for the first time a few years ago - turns out my religion is just "I am So Small and Young and Insignificant" lmao)

[mordysworld]

An encounter with God: a script

This is my latest draft of the script adaptation of my short story. (Warning: mentions of suicide, talk of death)

INT. APARTMENT - NIGHT

Fade into a tired haggard MAN (34, dark longish curly hair in a ponytail and dark eye bags with a deep frown etched into his features) shuffles room to room in his apartment.The interior is dark, cramped and claustrophobic. Photo frames in the living room have been turned on their fronts, coasters have half finished mouldy cups of tea on them. Take away boxes piled high spilling over the coffee table and dead plants decorating the window sill. The curtains are drawn in each room and no lights remain except from the dim light in the bathroom- he needed to see at least a little in there.

Man:

(he sighs with relief)

"Aaahhh" 

Camera closes in on the face of the man before panning down to the bath he's sat in. The water is stained red.

He basks in the feeling for a moment until a dripping sound interrupts him.

Camera spins round to show the tap dripping. He ignores it instead by getting out of the bath, drying himself and dressing his wounds. He pulls out a small first aid kit from a shelf in the bathroom and takes out everything he needs, uses them all and then puts them back.

He shuffles into his bedroom collapsing on the bed. Camera is positioned next to his pillow as it follows his sluggish movement to the bed and watches him close his eyes.

EXT. THE GOOD PLACE - DAY

It is seemingly mid day, the sun is high in the sky and the trees are a luscious verdant green, bird trills could be heard all around. Even though it is mid-day, fireflies fleet through the air along with butterflies and other pleasant insects.

Cut from a pan of the peaceful forest to him opening his eyes. They grow wide and panicked, darting from place to place., paranoid. He had no idea where he was. He was in clean white flowing robes but noticeably not chilly despite the breeze that swept through the scene. He basks in the tranquillity for a while. He looked to the ground and he could see stunning yellow and pink wild flowers and grass swirling in the direction of the wind- not fighting the harsh breeze flowing with it  

Man: 

“Where the fuck am I?”

He puts a tentative hand to his chest feeling an absence of pain and pressure from everyday suburbia. He refused to pinch himself because if this was a dream he’d rather not wake up. Slowly and with much caution he shifts, sitting up and watching his surroundings. Cut to a zoomed out shot of both the man and the forest. You can see the scale of the forest in comparison with him, he is small he is insignificant-

He finds some strength and stands awkwardly and inoffensively before walking in a direction, body suddenly sure of itself. His name echoes in the wind, an unseen force beckoning him.

A lady stands with long curls cascading over her shoulders, she looks youthful but you can see the experience and wisdom in her eyes. A crown sits upon her head (it's not a traditional gold one; it's made from bits of nature) Her facial features are soft looking and her aura that of kindness, tinged with sorrow.

Two shot which alternates between the man and the goddess being the subject of the shot

Man:

(cautiously) 

“hello?”

She looks at him with tear filled, rose quartz eyes.

Ethereal Being:

"I made you, are you aware?"

The man simply continues to gape at this goddess(?) his eyes scan over her over and over, she analyses him in kind. The man agrees, this surprises even him. The ethereal being nods before continuing.

Ethereal being (cont’d):

"I can see what you're thinking, feel how you are feeling- why do you hate my creation?"

Tears roll down her cheeks, the camera then cuts to a guilt stricken man, he looks conflicted for a second before the goddess speaks once more.

Ethereal being (cont’d)

"I made you perfect as you are, Please don’t break my heart!"

She hugs him tightly, but with the utmost care. Close up shot of the two’s faces, we can just see the vice-like grip he has on her, as if he never wants to let go.

Man:

"Please don’t make me go back there, I'm not strong enough to do it anymore!"

The pair separate and a one shot of the goddess is clear and stable as she talks once again.

Ethereal being:

"I know one way I can ease this pain but you would have to abandon everything you know in your realm and live up here. This is a big decision to make; my child you will not see your loved ones again for quite some time. This is usually a last resort but I can see the anguish you experience on a daily basis- I can feel the weight of the world on your shoulders and I wish to save you, to save my creation. So…what shall you choose?"

A long moment passes, he looks down to the floor, his answer doesn’t need to be spoken.

Ethereal being:

"I can feel the pain and suffering you feel and I wish to set you free, that is the only way you will be able to see how wonderful my creation truly is."

She puts her fingers on the camera lens (it like we see from the man's POV)

Ethereal being:

"Sleep now my darling for when you awake you shall emerge a beautiful phoenix from the ashes."

The final thing we see is the soft smile of the Ethereal being and the sparkle of rose quartz eyes before the screen fades to black.

[ohklah0ma]

looks down. a look of terror creeps onto my face like a writhing insect, slowly, as it sinks its mandibles into my skin. my hands. where are my hands. did i really turn into a worm? my flesh is pink and slimy and small, insignificant compared to everything around me which is so very very big. how am i meant to love something so much bigger than i. how did i once move with such coordination. i was not always like this, that wouldn’t make sense, but here i am now. how am i expected to love something, to love a world that is so much larger than i am? a world that could mash my body into the sandy, water-saturated concrete as if i didnt matter at all? where the fuck did my hand s go

would u still love me kf i was a worm but i wasnt not a worm but i wasnr not was not wasnt wasnt not a worm

it is 2:11am

i would love u no matter what. our camaraderie transcends the need for a mortal vessel; we are as united as the stars in the night sky, drops of rain which converge over the viridian surface of a leaf, twin wings of a moth which together steer it toward the flame of a candle. our shared thread of fate is everlasting. there is no escape. youre my pal foreversies

[angy-mouse]

Obsession Part 2

I'm gonna be real, I'm not thrilled with either of these, but theyre very feel goody to write

part 1

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Dream let out a noise that can only be described as ‘God, strike me now’. “Just when I thought the crappy punch was the most disgusting thing here,” he snapped, throwing back the last of his beer in hopes of dulling his growing headache. 

George scoffed, downing a swig of his own drink and leaning back against the wall- entirely too close to Dream for his own liking, but he didn’t have much choice. Dream was here for the same reason he was: this was the best spot to watch you dance with your little dorm friends. “Insults? What are we, in middle school? You’re pathetic.”

“... You look good.”

George chuckled at the unspoken question. “Yeah, razor blades in the soap bar is such an amateur move, I almost felt bad for you.” Dream simply clicked his tongue. “Speaking of, I saw your car out front.”

“Neighbor asked how I found such a dedicated mechanic. You really couldn’t get in, cut my brakes, and get out without being seen? Sounds like you’re the amateur.”

“Are you kidding me? I scaled that fence in under ten seconds, easy. In and out in a minute, only thing I didn’t account for was you living next to a damn Karen.”

Dream peeled his eyes off you for the first time that night to raise an eyebrow. “How’d you get in the garage, anyway?”

George let out a snicker as he swirled his drink around in its plastic cup. “Oh, yeah, I had to break open the back window. Might wanna get that fixed, the frame cracked easier than an egg.” 

“You’re such a cocky little bastard. You really think my baby would like such a creep?”

“My darling told me herself how much she likes my ingenuity. What she’d never like is some meathead-”

“Oh, I’m a meathead, am I? Funny, ‘cause she was just telling me she loves my emotional intelligence.”

“Please, you wrote her a few frilly poems- that’s practically nothing compared to how much I’ve helped her with coursework.”

“You just can’t take a hint, can you? I feel bad for you, so I’ll tell you straight: she’s using you. She’d be stupid not to take advantage-”

George’s blade dug into Dream’s side, hidden from the horde of drunks by his sleeve. “Don’t you dare insult her!”

“-of a smarmy, pathetic-”

“Hey, knock it off!”

They both snapped to attention at your beautiful voice, filled with far more resentment than you’d ever used with them. There you were, as gorgeous as ever in your favorite dress, pushing away some drunk, insignificant, unworthy frat boy who dared to touch your perfect body.

“He’s mine,” Dream growled out without a second thought, seeing red as you (always too sweet, too kind) tried to push the insect away gently, only to have him push up against you again. He was already fantasizing about how satisfying it would be to feel the crack of bones under his hand, and how with each fracture he’d reiterate don’t touch what’s mine.

“I’ve got her.” George couldn’t believe how he could let this happen. He should have clocked the drunk as soon as he was within arm’s reach of you. He wanted to blame Dream for distracting him, maybe cut him up a bit to relieve some tension, but that was the easy way out. He should have been watching you, protecting you. This couldn’t happen again.

He came up behind you and wrapped long fingers around your wrist, spinning you to face him. “Hey, luv,” he chirped, covering up the choking sound as Dream wrapped his arm around the bastard’s neck and hauled him away the second your back was turned. 

“Georgie!” He nearly moaned as you wrapped your arms around him, stumbling in your heels and pressing against him for stability. “I didn’t know you were- oh, Georgie, this is-” You visibly blanked when you turned around and the man wasn’t there. “Where’d he go?”

“I think you’ve been drinking too much, darling,” George hummed into your ear, one hand on your waist to keep you steady and against him as the other plucked your cup out of your hand. He took a small, testing sip and felt his blood boil. “That cunt spiked it? He’s gonna fucking wish we turned him in to the cops.”

“Hey,” you slurred with a giggle, hands pressed against his chest giving a tug on his shirt. “That’s mine, silly. I- can I-” You whined when the words wouldn’t come out, crashing your forehead down on his collarbone, snuggling into his neck. God, you were close. Your breath washed over his neck as you sighed, blood rushing through his veins practically under your lips. What he wouldn’t do-

No. He’d gotten distracted once tonight, it wouldn’t happen again.

“Oops,” he mumbled out dryly as he let the plastic cup fall to the floor, giving it a kick to make sure everything spilled out and started soaking into the carpet. He was confident absolutely no one would notice the stain among the others. “Why don’t we get you back to your dorm, and you can have a drink there, okay?” That drink was going to be a bottle of water he personally checked over for tampering, but you didn’t need to know that.

“But I love this song,” you hummed, jerking away from him so suddenly he had to tighten his grip to keep you upright. “Ooh, dance with me, Georgie!”

You moved like sin in that tight dress, but he steeled his nerves and guided you towards the front door. “Let’s dance outside, luv. Come on, this way.” You caught sight of the punch bowl and started changing direction. “No- okay, new plan,” George huffed. He grabbed your hand and twirled you, making you cheer, and promptly threw you over his shoulder.

“Whoooa! I’m so high up, Georgie! You’re so tall!”

“Sure am, darling.” He tried his absolute damnedest to keep his hands respectful. You were going to be sober when he touched you intimately for the first time- sober and begging for it. But your skirt was scooching up with every step, and the only way to stop it was a hand just barely under your ass. He thought if you were having a similar issue with the top and decided he might have to kill everyone there just to make sure they didn’t see you like that and live. Probably only a couple of hundred people in the house who would have to die. He could live with those numbers. Except Dream’s nostrils flared when he saw George carrying you, so he thought he might not live to get the job done. “Drink was salty,” he relayed, and just like that Dream’s anger was put back on the bastard they let get to you.

“Put her down-”

“Dreamy?” You tried to twist around, and it made it harder for George to hold you, so he complied, biting his tongue as you ran into Dream’s chest. “Hi, Dreamy! Georgie and I are gonna dance- dance with us!”

“Oh no, baby, we’re gonna get you home,” he purred, rubbing your back with one hand and yanking your skirt down with the other. “Come on, you can sit up front-”

“Is that safe?”

“Did you fix it since I got at it?”

“I just replaced the brakes yesterday.”

“Did you fuck with anything else?”

George sighed in relief. “Alright. You heard him, luv, go on.”

They watched you falter at his words, spinning around. “You’re coming, too… right?” They looked at each other, wondering how much longer they could be within arms reach without killing each other. “Come on, Georgie-” You gasped, falling against Dream and smacking his chest. “We can have a sleepover! Slumber party! Oh, please, Dreamy, please!”

“How could I say no to you, sweetheart?” “Especially when you say my name so pretty, begging for me so nice.” “Just climb in, baby, we’re gonna have a nice slumber party.”

You fell asleep less than halfway home. Barely stirred as Dream carried you in and George took off your shoes to put you in bed.

“What the fuck are you doing,” George hissed, breath catching in his throat as you groaned in your sleep, but unable to let Dream get away scot-free.

“Shut the fuck up, you’re just mad you didn’t think of it first.” Your dorm key was easy to find, one of three things in the tiny purse you took partying, and Dream kept a quick mold kit in his glove box just in case. “Besides, we both know you’re gonna lift this off me, then I’ll strangle you to get it back, etcetera, etcetera.”

“Ooh, that’s a big word for you.” Dream replaced your key and slipped the kit into his back pocket to free up his hands to offer George a double middle-finger salute. “Charming. If you’re done…” He motioned to the door, making sure it was locked behind them. They walked in silence back to Dream’s car, but George broke the peace as he leaned back against the hood. “So what happened to the prick?”

Dream let out a deep sigh, leaning against the driver’s side door. “Couldn’t kill him,” he mourned. “Too many people saw us leave together.”

“He spiked lovely’s drink.” His voice was thick in disgust as he started flicking his knife open and closed- he needed to make something bleed.  

“Broke his nose,” Dream mused like he hadn’t heard. His voice was quiet as he thought back, trying to recall all the cracks he heard. “Dislocated shoulder- left. The arm he kept putting around her. Broke a few toes when I stomped on his foot…” He pulled a student I.D. card out of his front pocket. “And swiped this and a few hundred bucks.”  He let George snatch it, blade glinting in the streetlamp as he started flicking it faster, practicing basic tricks- warming up. Dream watched the blade move with practiced precision, rolling over George’s wrist without the slightest mark left behind. 

“... I’ll share him for a copy of baby’s schedule.”