#cecil strikes back

[fannyrosie]

L'endeuillée de l'automne

One day of October, as I was looking outside the window, I saw a black squirrel run through the golden leaves and got inspired by the striking contrast it created. These pictures were taken back in October. The trees are very much bare right now.

Jacket: second-hand Atelier Boz; Dress: second-hand Juliette et Justine; Hat: vintage; Turtleneck: second-hand Cecil McBee; Shoes: Yösuke; Gloves: vintage; Brooches: all vintage except the eye one, which was a present; Earrings: Takano (Design Festa)

[evilgwrl]

TF 141 x Reader (Apocalypse!AU)

Immune: Ten

WARNING: This is a 18+ Poly!141 series (MDNI)

CW: ANIMAL DEATH, gore, angst, kinda fluff at the end??? but very depressing chapter

Taglist: @echo9821 @beebeechaos @h3art3at3rr @johannxseb @cndy-l0v3 @nylluns @pomegranategum @tapioca-marzipan

Masterlist

GUYS I APOLOGISE THIS IS NOT AS GOOD AS I WANTED IT TO BE BUT IM HOPING TO FILL THE VOID WITH A SMUTTY NEXT CHAPTER </3

His vision was a stain of burnt umber, ropes of sepia blurring into blown pupils, eyes flushed with demand as he stared down at you. His cheeks were ample with a delicate rose hue, blonde lashes dipping into his skin every time he flickered down to your spread frame, your own lips flushed with the blush of the staggering movements between you two.

Silky webs of spit connected the two of you even when apart as exploring hands fed into the pillowy flesh of your thighs, groping at anything he could get a hand on. Your mind was fluttering, brain wracking with static as he felt over you, paying attention to every inch of delicate skin.

There was a harsh crack from the sky, a zip of thunder bellowing rage against quickly darkening sky as Daisy whinnied, trotting anxiously around her paddock, tail swishing as she bucked back and forth on her hooves. Cecil’s neigh sounded tortured as a strike of lighting broiled before zapping down into a patch of grass beside him, hind legs rearing as his body leapt over the lowest part of the fence.

You pulled away from Simon, a confused expression on your face as you pushed him aside, feet planted on the ground. Panic struck you as you noticed the lack of the stallion, a pained whine in the distance as you swore under your breath, burning legs scuffing against the dirt as you yanked open the gate, feet trampling onto Daisy in a rush as she bucked slightly.

Heavy feet kicked her hind as Ghost called out from behind you, the horse already trailing into the depths of the forest after the escapee. Bruises accompanied your skin as your legs slapped on the un-saddled horse, a wince leaving your lips at every stride Daisy galloped.

Trees succumbed to a blur as you whistled, mouth in a permanent ‘o’ as you called out for Cecil, a distressed huff leaving the mare as she darted between florae. The familiar crackle of tar sounded against her hooves as you reached the main road, your eyes clouded with desperation as you slowed down, frantically searching.

A scurry in the bushes alerted you as you listened to the sound of hooves scraping against the ground in the distance, a frantic neigh seeping into the wind as you hopped off Daisy, whistling for her to follow the road home as you sent her off, apprehensive feet trailing to the sound.

Fingers wrapped anxiously around a large rock as you ducked in between branches. The crackle of whines rode through the air, the disturbed tone of the horse’s pitch sending a surge of chills down your spine, paralysing you as you took in the sight.

Hot metallic rushed into your nostrils, pools of blood dribbling through an open wound, elongated talons of bone sticking out of the stallion’s leg as he let out a guttural whinny, eyes wide as his head slapped across the ground anxiously, teeth jutting with every agitated breath.

Your knees were weak, limbs slipping into a coma as you collided with the ground, your own flesh meeting the burn of twigs as you dragged yourself across the floor, a harsh sob sounding from you at the mangled, broken leg before you.

The horse was restless, snout slipping between inches of dirt as he attempted to rise, his weight fleeting to gravity as the sight of crumbled ivory dug into untouched skin.

“Fuck- I’ve got you, baby, I’ve got you,” you wept, hands resting against his muzzle as you attempted to comfort him, pure agony displayed through the shiver of his muscles, twitching under broken flesh, fur saturated in the stench of crimson.

Your eyes were wild, stray tears pooling at your cheeks as you stroked the animal before you, pure misery evident in brown eyes as he huffed. “I’ll be back, I’ll be back, ok? Mumma’s gonna help you.”

Your voice was frantic, the crack of heartache slipping into every syllable as your chest wracked. Your legs felt useless, skidding against the road, trickles of blood pooling down your broken flesh, batters of broken skin tingling with irritation as you paid no mine.

The vision of the house before you was stagnant, the blear sight connecting like puzzle pieces as you blinked, sliced corium staining the handle rails as you tripped inside, mangled body colliding with the floor as you struggled to stand. Soap stood up in confusion, taking in the flummoxed sight of you.

“Bon, what’s wrong?”

“I need a gun and the car keys.”

“What fo-“

“I need them now,” you screeched, throat pained with desiccation as you rubbed desperately at your cheeks, skids of blood flushing your skin as you let out a pained sob. The Scotsman was quick, hurrying you to the car as you slammed the door shut, the chug of the engine crying into a ruptured breeze, the sound of lighting barely monitoring through you as you drove, hot tears cascading into the mixture of ichor painted upon you.

Soap was in a flurry, calling out to Gaz, who had found Daisy whining out front, quickly securing her away. Ghost had attempted to trail after you when you bolted off but lost sight, instead fixing the broken fence that had caught on Cecil’s hoof.

The commotion from inside hicked in Price’s chest as he fled down the stairs, only missing you as he watched you leave.

“What the bloody fuck is going on?” the Captain huffed, eyes brushing against bushy brows.

“She came in, covered in blood, screaming for a gun and the car keys-“

“And you didn’t think to go with her?” Ghost spat, storming into the house.

“She wasn’t waiting for anyone- didn’t even shut the car door as she drove off-“

The road in front of you was a blur as you followed the sickly trail of blood that leaked through an opening in the bushes, the ignition still running as you hopped out. You clambered through the bushes, wincing as a branch snagged against your cheek.

The silence was deafening as you whined, pushing through a broken web before stumbling upon the severed horse in the distance. Your scream entangled in your mouth, trapped between your tonsils as you subsided to the forest floor, the grunts of the dead stampeding across the stallion’s body, hisses of torn flesh seeping with blood as its head buried into the thickness of crimson-coloured mud.

“Get off him,” was supposed to leave your throat, but nothing did. Your whine was agonising, scorching through the grounds around you as the carbon steel slipped from your fingers, your hands shoving at the zombies surrounding the corpse as you grabbed the rock you had dropped earlier, pummelling into the rotting skull of one.

The sickly scent of mould infiltrated you as you gagged, straddling the body of another as you thrashed down on it, the squelch of a blackening brain migrating into the crevices of the miniature boulder. Your lips were pulled back in a snarl as you kicked the final deformity from your horse, battered hands colliding with the brittle bones that supported a decayed cerebrum.

Your pummels were never-ending, the rock scraping into the dirt as the monster turned to mush, nothing but the crumble of perished organs left. Your wail was excruciating as you collapsed against the dead horse, his body mangled into a pile of broken flesh, wounds tethered against fur as his eyes rolled into a lifeless state.

The rain that followed was harsh, pooling around you in an infested state as you struggled to breathe, your lungs popping with turmoil as you bawled, thick hiccups catching in your throat.

Your body collapsed into a tender frame as you struggled, clambering to save the horse that was already dead. “L-Let me go,” you wept, as heavy arms only took you away. There was a soft rustle against your hair, fingers running through the locks of your hair to comfort you, the sound of a gunshot going off in the distance.

Your eyes were struck, by blank images of massacred limbs and stolen innocence coerced you to stay awake as you stared aimlessly down the road, your ears static as Ghost attempted to talk to you, his hands tucked around your waist.

You didn’t reply.

You were grief-stricken, barely able to make it up the stairs as you were undressed, wounds seeping across broken skin as you barely hissed when a rag was pressed against it. You were defunct, your eyes void of nothing as your lips folded into a thin line.

The bare warmth of the water did nothing for you as Price lifted you in. Unheard words passed through you as you watched him walk away, your head slipping under, and your eyes still open.

You didn’t want to close them. Not now, not again. It was a deadly compilation. Flickering images of the gruesome scene haunt you with every blink. The water had turned a murky pink, dirty liquid sloshing as hands scorned under your arms.

“Sweet’art, I need you to answer me. I need you to tell me if you swallowed any blood or flesh.”

You only blinked.

“Y/N, I’m serious,” Price snarled, prying open your mouth as you snapped him away.

“No.”

That was enough for him.

The rest of the night had turned to a soundtrack of haze, pushy hands bringing water to your lips as you shoved them away. Your knees were sticky with wet cotton and bandages, your palms stinging with the residue of alcohol. They all came in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead in an attempt to soothe you.

Simon was last, his hands resting against your cheeks as he pressed dry lips into the heat of your skin. You winced as you grabbed his wrist, broken eyes glancing up at him with strains of blood-shot veins.

"Will you stay?"

[theneonghosts]

Ok, ok, Iam going to properly explain Gwendolyn Poole

So first things first, Gwen is not canonically related to Deadpool or Gwen Stacey and constantly gets annoyed when compared to them, however her first appearance was as a variant cover of a Secret wars comic as a what if Gwen Stacey was Deadpool.

In cannon she is a person who originally came from the real world, and was a massive comic fan (although it is important to note that she didn't really like the Deadpool comics and said so to the guys face), who ended up in the comic world.

She still deserves to be here for various reasons:

1. She once tried to unmask Spider-man, almost succeeded, in order to try to get him to bite her so she could get Spider powers

2. She tried to seduce Mr. Fantastic

3. She forced a large number of marvel heroes into a fighting tournament, in which she used Thors severed arm like a glove to wield Mjölnir

4. She temporarily turned Doctor Doom evil (he was mid redemption ark) in order to fight him

5. In the Modok head games comic she kills Modok, is perfectly fine with it until she realises that Modok is going through a redemption arc and promptly rewrites reality so that Modok was never killed by her

6. In her first comic run she kills Modok (who is later revived in another comic), takes over M.O.D.O.K (Mercenary Organization Dedicated Only to Killing) and rebranding the goons to the 'Poole Boys'

7. She got doctor Strange to bind the ghost of her first friend to his skull which she then kept, who's spirit was later transferred to an ancient Nordic beast

8. She stole Jeff the Land shark from the high evolutionary

9. For a good part of her first run she believed that everyone in the marvel universe is purely fictional, so their lives don't matter, until a future version of Miles Morales's Spider-Man came back to stop her.

10. She at one point pulled various versions of herself from various different comics onto one page

She can 'read ahead' and see the future, but refuses to do so because she doesn't get any spoilers, which links into her main power of medium manipulation, allowing her access to the gutter space (the space between panels), as well as rewriting plot points, erasing speech bubbles, breaking the walls between panels, grabbing sound, reverting characters to their previous versions, pulling herself out of flashbacks to her from an alternate timeline and win fights that would usually be unwinnable on the value that she is the main character in her comic.

Here are some pictures for context:

Why do they deserve to win?

Batman

Gwenpool

[valtsv]

perhaps even less relevant than the anon you got to listen to archive 81 by mentioning it once, you have quite literally never mentioned this podcast where i can see it (but you strike me as someone who mightve been listening when it was relevant...) but all this talk of horror/weirdfiction podcasts finally got me curious enough to go back and check out the Original Weirdfiction Podcast Hit, Welcome to Night Vale. i might be 12 years late on it, but im only 14 episodes in and can tell why this affected the ecosystem the way it did

oh yeah i was crazy about night vale back in the day, especially cecil (to the point i actually considered naming myself cecil when i was choosing a new name lol). it almost definitely influenced my writing/humour style, and was a huge source of comfort to me growing up, and looking back it's amazing how much impact it had on the podcast medium in general. i haven't listened to it in a while, but the old episodes still hold up, and if i ever decide to revisit it i imagine it'll touch me just as much as it did when i was younger, only perhaps different parts of me, in different ways. i'm glad you're enjoying it, it's a classic for a reason!

[theamazingmaddyas]

Some Will, Lou Ellen, Cecil, and Nico hcs because their friendship is underrated:

Will's favorite movie specifically is The Empire Strikes Back. Cecil's is Turbo, Lou Ellen's is A Nightmare Before Christmas, and Nico's is The Wizard of Oz

Adding onto that, Cecil's top song of 2024 was The Snail is Fast and absolutely no one at camp was surprised at all.

Nico usually claims his favorite movie is something else (probably some slasher film, which he does like) but the real reason is because one of his only memories he got back pre-Lethe is going to see The Wizard of Oz in theaters with his moter and Bianca a bit after moving to the U.S.

I read a fic once where Lou Ellen was from Albany and it stuck in my mind.

In that vein, I hc that Cecil was the son of Hermes from Wisconsin that Hermes mentions in TLO.

Naomi took all of them to get piercings once when she was visiting. It was Nico's first piercing, so he just got his lobes pierced, but Will, Lou Ellen, and Cecil got matching industrial piercings on their left ears.

Will and Lou Ellen have matching stick and poke tattoos (a heart) on their ankles from when they were 14. Cecil was going to get it as well but he's afraid of needles and couldn't do it.

Lou Ellen tried to teach Nico simple mist manipulation when she found out his sister could, but Nico turned out to be pretty hopeless.

Cecil invited Will and Lou Ellen to his bar mitzvah even though he's only known them for like 5 weeks when he had it. His mother wasn't the happiest about having to find 2 additional plates with little time, but it happened.

All four of them listen to Naomi's music together, and even though Lou Ellen is goth and traditionally goth music she makes an exception for Naomi and will (and has) fought someone in her mortal school over them saying all country music sucks.

Lou Ellen does goth makeup on the Nico and Cecil, usually Nico though. She did it once on Will and everyone agreed he looked so weird they vowed to never do it again.

[cressida-jayoungr]

One Dress a Day Challenge

November: Grey Redux

My Fair Lady / Audrey Hepburn as Eliza Doolittle

A real classic today. The three tiers on the collar mirror the three-tiered skirt, and both feature similar scalloped edges with floral embroidered decoration. I'm struck by the weight of the fabric, which can be seen in the close-up photo: it has some real heft and looks as if it might be wool. A white lace collar peeks out at the top. The outfit is completed with a rather schoolgirlish black hair bow and pointy black boots, which are mostly not visible under the skirt.

The signature on the sketch reveals that this costume was designed by Cecil Beaton, although Michael Neuwirth also worked on the film, according to IMDB.

The play on which this movie was based was published in 1912, but the costuming strikes me as just a few years earlier. The visible zipper line in the back of this dress isn't very period, although zippers were around by then.

[cleverinsidejoke]

Part One

Part 2

Based off of my little idea of an Sagau where the Creator is a friend of the reader's from their own world. You can read it here. This is a little long, but I feel that it's necessary to set the scene before going into the plot. I haven't done creative writing in a while, so I hope it's at a good readable state. I don't think there's anything to warn you about, but if there is, let me know and I'll update it.

1.7k words, excluding this introduction.

The hum of fluorescent lights fills the quiet office space, interrupted by your thoughts and the sounds of typing and paper shuffling. It had been a truly awful day.

The HR and customer service departments' phone lines and power had gone out in the early afternoon, and prior experience in both had lumped the workload onto the shoulders of you and your coworkers. All you wanted to do was go home. Even the warm sunny day and Cecil’s quiet humming were serving to worsen your already sour mood.

“Well everyone, it’s going to take longer than we thought to fix the issue, so we’ve got two options for you. You can work late tonight, get paid overtime, and get tomorrow off, or you can call it quits for today and head home.” The IT man nodded in agreement as your boss explained away the situation. “Just let me know by closing time.” Quiet groans permeated the room at the thought of staying late, but not coming in tomorrow was certainly a tempting offer.

“I’ll stay.” You pipe up quickly as your boss begins to leave. She pauses and turns around, appraising you with her unwavering gaze, as though observing your credibility.

“Anyone else?” Empty stares meet hers, the humming ceases, and an air of hesitance is her only response for a long moment. Raising an eyebrow, she turns to the door to leave.

    “I’ll keep Y/N company.” Gene pipes up from beside you. “It’s no good being alone in a big office anyway.” You give them a nod of acknowledgement, also serving to convince the boss that you’re enthused about staying late. It’s a long moment before she breaks her gaze from yours.

    “Is that everyone?” A few more of the older coworkers join in as the clock strikes five, and soon the life in the office blinks out. The boss returns to her office a few floors up. Far enough to not supervise effectively.

    Gene had immediately put on elevator music after the boss’s exit, and began a push to finish the customer service work, which you were thankful for. It was always good to have some motivation. All that was left at this point was to make a list of the companies you couldn’t call this late and to finish checking the HR reports. 

    “Almost done?” Gene leans across their desk, reaching out to spin the papers on yours around to look at. “Nice.” Sliding the papers back, they look around the empty office. “When we get this done, would you like to play some Genshin?”

    “Sure.” Your reply is loud in the quiet room. The devices and sound of people working renders an indoor voice small. “Your world or mine?” The fluorescent lights hum quietly overhead.

    “Dunno. We’ll figure it out when we get home and log on.” The work goes by slowly, the tapping of the keys and rifling of paper sounding as the clock ticks on. Seven o’clock, eight o’clock, nine… “Done!”

    Glancing up briefly as you finish organizing the reports, you see them exit the office, entering the break room. “Where are you going?” You call out quietly. Fluorescent lights hum a dull tune as you wait, clicking your mouse as you shut down the office system and open up the game. Using their back to push open the door, Gene reenters, holding two paper coffee cups.

    “I figured I’d get us something to keep us up. If we’re free tomorrow, what’s to stop us from staying up playing Genshin?” Kicking the door shut, they flounce over, setting your cup in front of you. The pleasant aroma of hot chocolate escapes as you remove the lid.

   “Are we gonna use the work computers or go home?” The pair of you had been friends for years, and recently roommates, as house prices were only increasing. You both pitched in on rent for the apartment, saving the money that didn’t go to rent or necessities to find a nice home so that you could potentially get another roommate. Gene had even pulled a few strings to get you this job, so it was safe to say that the pair of you were close. 

    “The boss is probably waiting for us to leave first, so…” Gene shrugs, taking a sip of their drink, spinning slowly in their chair, soon turning once again to face you. “Let’s get home and see if the update finished.”

    “Got it. Let me grab my lunchbox and we can head out.” Pulling on your jacket, you go to the break room, grabbing your lunchbox from the fridge. Shutting off the lights in there, the dull hum lessens. Picking up your hot chocolate, you push open the office door, using your foot to hold it open for Gene.

    “Thanks.” You exit the building, shutting off lights as you go, the hum lessening with each flick of a switch. The streets are loud despite the time, as all city streets are. Cars passed, each one with its own destinations, men and women called for taxis, others opting for the metro system instead, swiping their cards once and being on their way. 

    Taking public transportation wasn’t so bad, provided that it wasn’t too crowded. Unlike the senseless chatter of vehicles on the topside, the metro acted as the quieter underbelly of the city. Finishing your drink, you threw the leftover cup away as the pair of you waited for your train to arrive. 

    “Oh, I can’t wait to get home.” You groan, rolling your neck in an attempt to release the tension that rests there. “Get into pajamas, get some water, and just brainlessly explore Fontaine.”

    “Want me to make something when we get home?” You don't respond as the train pulls in, doors opening and a straggler or two filing out as you entered, instantly finding a seat to sit on, relinquishing all strength to the anxiety and annoyance of the previous few hours.

    The ride is silent. The stop soon arrives and you both get off, Gene wrapping an arm around your shoulder as you exit the subway into the poorly lit neighborhood. The apartment isn’t all that far or difficult to get to, and you’re soon at home, changing into your pajamas. 

    Wrapping a blanket around yourself, you exit into the small living room, where Gene is setting up your desktops and getting the game going. Curling up on the couch, you scan the screen. You had been doing commissions in Mondstadt last time you’d played, having left Lumine and Paimon to wait by the Adventurer’s Guild. Glancing at Gene’s screen, you make a request to join their world. 

    “It’s Diona’s birthday.” Your remark snaps Gene out of a previously unnoticed thought.

    “Huh? Oh, yeah, I forgot. Wanna do something for it?” They accept your request, and Lumine pops up in their world. Adding Diona to your party, you run circles around Gene’s traveler, Aether. Although Diona could get annoying, this was a tradition for you, and you weren’t about to break something that got your mind out of the ‘surviving life’ mindset.

    “We could go to the Cat’s Tail, make a few wishes, then make a few drinks.”

    “Sounds good.” Adding Diona to their team, you both make your way to the quiet restaurant while pausing briefly to check if you have the ingredients to make a drink. The game never specified if the drinks you could make were alcoholic, but it didn’t really matter with some imagination, did it?

    After an hour or two of doing commissions and cooking, you had reached enough primogems to reach that final intertwined fate for a ten pull. Upon opening the gacha system, you were met with a strange sight. There was a search bar along the top, leaving only the standard banner on the main page.

    “Did they say anything about a gacha change on the Special Program?” Looking over at Gene, you realize that they’ve already seen it. 

    “Give me a name.” They look over at you, hands positioned to type. "A five star.”

    “I dunno.. Wanderer.” It soon pulls up the banner, which had passed a month or so ago. The gacha system is up and running for it. “Try an upcoming character.” You continue on this experimental run. Past and upcoming banners all show up, names of characters that haven’t released or been leaked yet.

Gene take out their phone to take a photo, and… nothing shows up. As far as their phone is concerned, the computer is dead. But it can’t be a hallucination, right? After all, you’re both seeing this.

    “Well, let’s do a couple of pulls before lights out, hm?” Searching up Yoimiya, they do a quick ten pull. The blue stars streak across the screen, a purple one appearing along with it, melding into gold. The built up anticipation of the upcoming five star washes away as a familiar silhouette fills the screen. “Oh, Qiqi! I don’t have her yet!”

    “Try again. You’ve been saving for Yoimiya for a while.” You set off on some of your own pulls, albeit with less success. Despite the guaranteed pity, you land in a web of Mona, Jean, and Tighnari constellations. And soon enough, you’ve stayed up much later than you intended.

    Gene’s soft breathing cues you in that it’s gotten far later. Glancing into the kitchen, you see that the stove reads 11:10. Looking down at your friend, you grab the throw blanket and lay it over them, then beginning to shut down the game. Yawning, you close out of the gacha system and open up the menu, Paimon doing her usual tricks on the side. The exit game icon is gone.

Probably another new update that you missed. Too tired to figure it out, you opt to just shut down the desktops instead. The screens go white, the line up of elements blinking a pale grey before becoming a bright gold light.

    You close your eyes tightly at the invasion of harsh light, flinching back from the desktops instinctively. Your ears ring, and you hear Gene stirring due to the light. Reaching out blindly, your hand comes into contact with something… warm. It grabs your hand harshly, jerking you forwards as you reach back, grabbing Gene for support. Then the tight grip on your arm releases.

    You open your eyes. Your apartment is gone, replaced by a soft golden light around you. Below you is a vast world, extensive landscapes and cities sprawled beneath you, with the subtle shapes of people in the lights between buildings. The night of this world is beautiful. Gene grasps for your hand and you look over at them. Face filling with concern, they can only mouth their words. Where are we?

[grimbeak]

Welcome to Night Vale episode 250 "Father Kevin" transcript

Episode description: There is no Night Vale. There is Mother Lauren's Brood. We are loved.

I don’t make the rules. I just gleefully enforce them, even though I don’t have to.

Welcome to Night Vale.

###

There is no Ralphs. There is Mother Lauren’s pantry. There is no hole out back of the Ralphs-- there is Mother Lauren’s soil embrace. There is no Night Vale. There is Mother Lauren’s brood.

We are loved. We are loved! We are--

[Radio interference. It fades in and out between incomprehensible moments of a man speaking, a woman speaking another language, and a band, before increasing in volume and suddenly cutting out.]

Sorry. It is difficult to break free of the malign influence of Mother Lauren. 

We live in two realities. One in which all is well, and one in which we are teetering over an edge from which we cannot return. I speak from both realities. I speak from both sides of my mouth. 

The conflict that roiled Night Vale continues, but in a strange, slow way. Mother Lauren stands on a podium in what once was Grove Park, her tendrils snaking through every part of the town, and through many of the people. The buildings expand, and contract, like lungs. The trees are melting. The people of Night Vale still bravely fight, but like people fighting in a painting; smudgey, and two-dimensional. 

The Boy--who is the younger version of Kevin from Desert Bluffs--stands next to Mother Lauren, holding her hand. His face shows exertion, as if the greatest battle is inside his body. But he cannot move. 

The last time Lauren came to Night Vale, she came as a representative of StrexCorp, here to conquer us in the name of capitalism. This time? Is different. This time she fights with stranger, stronger stuff. I don’t think she is turning us into another Desert Bluffs, I think, if anything, she is making all of us part of her body. She is transcending, and we are fodder for her change. 

Mother Lauren speaks, and her voice rings out from every part of her body-- which is the entire city. “I am bored already of this,” she says. “It was too easy to defeat you. Your loss is not as delicious to me as I had hoped.” 

But all is not yet lost-- there is a plan. Our future lies with Alejandra Nuñez, Ronnie Sharma, and Nanako Barnes of Mr. Prescott’s 5th Period AP English Class, otherwise known as “The Library Tweens”. These brave children have followed in Tamika Flynn’s footsteps, coming face-to-face with a librarian and emerging victorious. Now they must come face-to-face with something maybe…  fifteen percent more horrifying than a librarian. A twisted, cosmic god. 

The kids told me they could not give me the specifics of the plan, only that it involved using ropes and grappling hooks to cross the dangerous city streets through the air, guerrilla-style strikes on Mother Lauren’s weak points, capturing Kevin, and finally attacking Mother Lauren when she least suspects it-- at noon today. She’ll never see it coming. 

As part of the plan, I have been asked to create a distraction so that Mother Lauren and Kevin won’t notice what they are doing until it is too late. They told me it is “vitally important” that no-one notice until the plan has been completed, and so I had been sworn to secrecy-- a secrecy I will break for no-one! Except of course, you, my listeners. I could never keep anything from you. 

I thought a lot about what a good distraction would be, and here’s what I’ve come up with-- Hey! Look over there!

[Cecil runs away from the microphone, his footsteps going right-to-left-to-right, before they fade away. In the distance, after a brief pause, a window is smashed. Several sirens sound, seeming to be cars driving down the street as they fade in and out accompanied with scraping metal. Multiple dogs bark before they fade away as well. A car zooms down the street, seeming to possibly loop around the station before fading into silence. An air-raid siren fades in and out as wind blows, brief chanting is heard, what sounds like an old movie with incomprehensible dialogue plays. The siren stops as the chanting returns, an incomprehensible voice seeming to come from a radio plays, a rumbling is heard, and the Indiana Jones theme plays follows the rumbling right-to-left. Wind seems to blow again and fades out as Cecil’s footsteps return, the beginning few sounding like he just jumped through the window he may have broken. He continues walking over what sounds like metal, and then returns to the microphone, panting through his words.]

So…sorry… little out of breath. …We’ll see if that worked. 

Oh no. Despite what some might say is the best distraction anyone has done in the history of getting people to look away from something important, it appears that Mother Lauren somehow got wind of the plan. She flinched, and the world flinched with her. She glared, and the world swooned. She no longer even has to fight; Night Vale is her thick, sludging heart, her pockmarked lungs-- she has made us part of her disease. 

“I am the universe itself,” she howled, an air raid siren of a voice coming from all places at once. “To fight me is to fight the fabric of existence-- a laughable effort.” 

The Library Tweens were seized by Mother Lauren’s drones--who once were our own citizens, but now are pink, spongy lumps with no eyes, constantly screaming; “Help me! I still feel all of it, there is some vital part of me that remains untainted, I still have a soul!” as they lumber comically towards the tweens. The tweens put up a valiant fight, but they were captured and thrown into the town prison-- which now is covered in a pale, flakey skin. 

The Boy watched this all happen, holding onto Mother Lauren’s hands, enfolded in her multitude of oil-slick wings. Something came over him, and he turned, and struck out at Mother Lauren! With the effort of his entire soul, he resisted her influence, and he stuck a knife into her side! …Without bothering to look his way, she weaved her tendrils around him and he was absorbed into her being. The Boy now stands at her feet, the tendrils fused with his skin, and pulsing sickeningly. His eyes are blank whites. His hands flap about like they are playing an invisible piano. 

Oh, Night Vale… This is the moment of greatest despair. We have not only been defeated, but… changed. We are no longer who we are. 

And to make matters worse, here comes Kevin, unfolding himself from the crowd, strutting up to the podium of his victory. 

He looks around at the city that he has finally driven under his thumb. After years of resisting him, we can resist no more. He sees the bowling alley, enrobed in veins and arteries and malignant tumors. He sees town hall turned into a tongue, covered in white fuzz. 

He sees my own station, my beloved radio station, now entirely made of the same stuff as toenails. He sees all the evidence of his victory. And then he turns, and looks at The Boy. The Boy that he came back for. The Boy that is the younger version of himself, he looks at the helpless boy and he smiles. 

Here, there is a… heavy stillness, but somewhere, thunder. Somewhere, snow. Somewhere, far away, weather. 

###

Weather: Cutting Teeth by Priscilla Snow.

###

Well. 

Okay. 

I don’t know what to do here, honestly. 

Usually when we go to the weather report, a great struggle, or, climactic event happens concurrently with it, and we come back to a problem solved. With my perspective now shifted to the past I can then fill you in on how we made it through yet another dangerous day in our fair town. Now some people mistake this for the weather actually fixing the problem but that’s… that’s not the case. The weather usually just happens at the same time as what fixes the problem, and then I, (utilizing my expert narrative skills), tell you how that happened. 

This time however, everything is more or less how we left it. The Boy? Still captive. Mother Lauren? Still ascendant. And Kevin? Still smiling. 

There will be no victorious shift in perspective. Only a terrifying march through the ceaseless present. And in that present moment, Kevin turns to The Boy. He kneels down, still smiling, and takes The Boy’s hand. Gently, he untangles Mother Lauren’s tendrils from The Boy’s skin. He guides The Boy down from the podium. Mother Lauren, her eyes to the cosmos, is seemingly impassive to the final meager death throes of our little town. 

The Boy looks at Kevin. Kevin smiles at The Boy-- I do not like that smile, but then… I have never liked Kevin’s smile.

 “The last time I was here,” Kevin says, “I said that this was a situation I would not be able to handle alone. And I was right! And I was wrong. Because I can handle it with just me, but, I cannot handle it with only one of me.” 

“I’m sorry,” The Boy says, “but I don’t know who you are.”

It seems that his encounter with the body and mind of Mother Lauren has left him without his memories. He stares blankly at the world like it was a book in a language he took a few classes back in high school, like he should know it, but he doesn’t. 

“That’s okay,” Kevin says, “because I remember enough for the both of us. I’ve never talked much about my father-- he was a jovial man, but a stern man. He was a fair man, but with priorities I did not always understand. I think he did the best job he could-- in fact, I know he did, because, in this moment, I understand him better than anyone has ever understood their own father.”

“Okay,” The Boy says. He clearly doesn’t know why this man is telling him this. He says, “I don’t have a father.” He doesn’t say this tragically, but like he was telling the time to someone who asked. 

“Ah,” says Kevin, “but you do. My childhood was a strange riddle I never could quite solve, and here you are, a neat solution to the question of my life.”

Listeners, I am starting to understand what Kevin is getting at here-- and I’m not sure I like it, but it does have a certain… symmetry to it. Life is rarely fair, but it is often balanced. 

“What are you saying?” The Boy says. 

“Your name is Kevin, and I am your father, “ says Kevin, who is Kevin’s Father. 

“I am? You are?” says The Boy who is Kevin. 

“Yes,” says Kevin’s Father. “I will raise you well, or well enough, or, well, enough, you know? I will see you through.”

He looks up at Mother Lauren. She finally looks down, her tendrils weave through the earth and the bricks and the flesh of Night Vale, her sunny smile clouds over. 

“I thought I was through with you,” she says. 

“You were wrong,” says Kevin, and Kevin’s Father, simultaneously. Kevin’s Father stands tall, and Kevin stands as tall as he can, which is not nearly as tall as his father. Not yet. 

“Dead wrong!” calls a voice from the crowd, and here steps forward Alejandra Nuñez, Ronnie Sharma, and Nanako Barnes of Mr. Prescott’s 5th Period AP English Class, otherwise known as “The Library Tweens”. 

“I thought you were in jail,” I say from my radio booth, because this is all happening in the present moment so it just now occurred to me that I could be an active part of these events. 

“We were,” says Ronnie, “but then, this nice old lady busted us out!”

“I am not old! I’m in my early twenties for God’s sake!” says Tamika Flynn.

“She did a real daring and action-packed jailbreak!” says Nanako. “I wouldn’t have known someone that ancient had it in her!”

“Ugh,” says Tamika. But she does look exhilarated about having once again taken part in an adventure. In one hand she holds a rope, and in her other hand she holds a copy of the novel “Autumn” by Ali Smith. It’s the British first-edition, the one that was printed on a working blowtorch. 

“Point is!” says Alejandra to Mother Lauren, “You’ll have to stand against us!”

“And me,” says Tamika, shooting a menacing jet of fire from Ali Smith’s elliptical portrait of Brexit-era Britain. 

“And me,” says Kevin’s Father. 

Kevin, the young boy that he is, looks around, unsure. This is all a lot of new information all at once. But he makes his decision; “And me,” he says. 

Mother Lauren laughs, and the mountains laughs with her, hollow booms in canyons and passes. She swats at Kevin-- but Kevin dodges. Mother Lauren’s face flickers with concern, she swats again-- nothing connects. The streets roil. 

“I knew you before,” Kevin’s Father says, “I know that somewhere in there is human vulnerability!”

“Laughable!” screams Mother Lauren. She is not laughing. 

Mother Lauren’s drones advance, but a few stop. And then, human faces start to come out of their pink, fleshy lumps. 

“We could neither breathe, nor could we die!” the people inside the drones say. “We were… trapped! In the moment between breaths! It was torture without end!” 

Other Night Vale citizens give them thumbs-up, indicating empathy.

“No! I am a god!” shouts Mother Lauren. 

“Yes,” says Kevin’s Father, “and like any god, you are defined by the belief of your worshippers.”

Mother Lauren’s face screws up in fury. And then she scowls, up again at the cosmos. “Yeah! Okay! Screw it!” she says. “This universe was getting too small for me anyway.” 

And with that, she floats into the sky. The stars open like a door for her. She steps through-- she glances back, for a moment, at the city below her. “One day, I will return,” she says. “Or I won’t. T B D.” And then the stars swing shut behind her. And she is gone. 

Gradually, the city comes back to itself. The people shake off the influence of Mother Lauren. The buildings. and the earth, and the trees return to themselves. All is as it was. Minus those who are dead, or injured, or missing, which is… a good amount of people. 

At the center of all this is a boy and his father. The boy is holding his father’s hand. The Boy is holding his own hand. Kevin is holding Kevin’s hand, and together, Kevin walks back to his home, to live, if not always happily, then at the very least, ever after.

After the Kevins pass through it, Carlos pulls the plug on the portal, deciding that science, while worth some cost, is not worth every cost. Science must be in the service of humanity, never the other way around. It is a tool, not a goal. 

Oh-- he says that the portal made a real cool “zap” sound as it turned off. 

The Library Tweens--as they wish to be called--have declared the creation of a new teen militia, to protect Night Vale from any further incursions from Desert Bluffs Too, and anyone else who might want to mess with them. Tamika Flynn, who knows a thing or two about leading a teen militia, offered to be a mentor, but The Library Tweens put out a statement saying; “Uh, that’s okay, no thanks, ma’am.” 

What lies ahead for Night Vale? 

I cannot say. Our future is an unwritten slate. Our past is a diary scribbled in handwriting none of us can read, and our present is the view through a dirty window-- specifically, for me, the dirty window in this studio, through which I can see Amber Akinyi teaching her son how to ride a bike. I can see Michelle Nguyen and Maureen Johnson taking their poodle-earwig mix (or, poowig) out for a walk. I can see-- ooo, I can see a mysterious van with the symbol of a labyrinth on it with a man who is not tall and a man who is not short inside, driving some unknown cargo out into the scrublands.   

In short, I see the day-to-day of a town who has been through… a lot, but remained, through it all, very much itself. 

I see Night Vale. 

And I love it. 

Goodnight, my favorite town! Goodnight. 

###

PROVERB:  Hit me with your best shot! Ow! Okay, actually, that sucked! Uh, please hit me with one of your worse shots, instead, thank you. Ugh.

[solarisleech]

Here's a silly idea for you! Which utapri characters do you think would be prone to seasickness?

Oooh, interesting right off the bat!

This ask was really inspiring, so I’ll do you one better!

I’d like to detail my thoughts for all the Shining Idols!

(Written from most to least prone!)

((I’m sorry this took a bit! Personal problems kicked my ass…))

—

Dealing with Seasickness

—

Cecil:

Most likely by far. The poor guy’s terrified of any and all bodies of water, making his experience with boats limited.

One look overboard or an especially strong wave hitting the boat would be enough to send him to the ground! That’s without even mentioning the scent of sea air, reminding him of… fish.

He’d feel the full brunt of symptoms. Nausea, dizziness… but the moment he’s passed some medicine by another member of STARISH, he’d damn near cry from relief!

…He would then avoid boats as much as possible, only setting foot aboard again for work.

Hesitantly.

Syo

I feel cliched for Syo being my second pick, but it just… I feel as if it would be influenced by his fear of heights from the anime, somewhat.

Not only are you high up from the water when you’re in a boat, the ground’s unstable.

Syo’s symptoms wouldn’t be as strong as Cecil’s, not by a long shot. He could, if he had to, manage a bit. He’d just be queasy.

Once his fear is managed though, I think he’d be less prone.

He’d still keep medicine in his bag, just in case.

Tokiya

Here’s my third most likely, and the last of the characters that came to mind when I initially read this ask!

Tokiya may seem out of left field, but I have my reasonings. He’s a chronic over worker, even nowadays, and I know that neglecting yourself can make things like motion sickness much worse.

Tokiya is always prepared, so he’s the least prone of my top three, but, the seasickness would hit him hard when it does.

All it would take is one forgotten bottle of medicine, and it would be over.

Luckily, Cecil would have his back, he wouldn’t suffer for very long.

Ranmaru

From Ranmaru to Ai, my thoughts just spiraled, honestly.

Ranmaru, I’m sure you can guess, would try and sleep off any and all of his symptoms. Probably somewhere in the open air, on deck.

You’d know he’s feeling under the weather if you spot him curled up on a lounge chair, soaking in the sun.

On second thought, he might do that anyway, so could you really tell?

Masato & Camus

I’ve lumped these two together (just like Reiji and Ren below) because I believe they would have similar reactions, with just a few key differences.

Seasickness would creep over their bodies slowly, manifesting as a sheen of sweat on their foreheads.

Once Masato notices the churning in his stomach, he’s quick to either take medicine, or ask for it. He’d rest, but only after apologizing profusely for falling sick in the first place.

And Camus, oh Camus.

Prideful to a fault, he wouldn’t admit that he was sick, even as his nails dig into the arms of whatever chair he plants himself into.

With a scowl on his face, he’d subtly sway in his seat, fighting like hell to never vomit. He’d throw himself overboard before showing a “weakness” like that!

If he reached a point where he couldn’t handle it any longer, he would reluctantly (and most important, privately) ask for help from one of the people he deeply trusts. Likely Tokiya, Masato, or maybe Ai.

But, if Camus was in a situation with just staff, he’d grin and bear it till the end.

Reiji & Ren

The only reason these two are lower risk than Camus and Masato, is because they adore driving.

Carsickness and seasickness are linked, after all! I doubt they’d love their long drives as much, if they had to deal with it.

But if it were to ever strike them, they’d both try and deal with it by themselves, initially.

It would be a discreet illness. A little stumble from Reiji here, or a subtle wince from Ren, there.

Ren, after a while, would ask for help. With a weary smile, he’d ask another member if they had any medicine.

Reiji, on the other hand, would pretend everything is fine, right until he can’t anymore.

Then, he’d bug everyone around him, trying to garner sympathy with his big, puppy eyes. (He’d drive the rest of QN up the wall!)

Otoya

Otoya is a bit of an oddball.

While I can imagine very vividly how he would react to seasickness, he’s also extremely unlikely to have it.

Poor baby would be pretty whiny!

Though, with his high athleticism and need to constantly move, motion sickness of any kind doesn’t seem like it would fit.

Natsuki

Natsuki, for whatever reason, is someone I can’t imagine dealing with this at all.

With how he cooks, I doubt he feels nausea, period!

Ai

I’m sorry if this is an obvious “least likely”, but like… I can’t even figure out how that would work.

Seasickness confuses the human inner ear, which is what causes the symptoms.

I doubt that Ai, as an android, has a similar balance system to a human. Even if he somehow did, he doesn’t experience sickness to my knowledge.

—

I’m sorry if this was different than what you were expecting! ^^,

My mind took the scenario and ran with it. I love thinking about the logistics around little things like this.

[colourprinter]

CW: Blood, non-detailed gore descriptions

Orlam, head of the royal guard

It's still Our Wonderland and the focus is Orlam, things are going to steeply go downhill from here (also I found it super hard to draw the armour so I drew more zoomed in)

Lore below read more!

The rule maker (given Bucks... Not doing anything) and enforcer of the underground is a bit... Less than stable and the first character encountered that wants to bring harm to Iggy.

While he finds the way he can do anything he wants extremely fun, commanding the rabbit guards around like it's going out of style, he would love to rip the lovely little soul out of the fallen and use the wish to make himself king. He knows that Bucks has multiple wishes but he's at least smart enough not to cross the queen.

He is a very effective guard, anyone he hunts down is never seen again, though there is a lot of litter around, mostly bones... Wonder where that comes from. At least Cecil is nice enough to clear up the bones for his collection!

Despite the change of attitude, a pacifist Iggy can hang out with him at Cecil's request resulting in a similar but much more tense scene where Orlam casually emphasises violent words while staring at Iggy, stopping himself from actually doing anything because he cares enough not to do anything against Cecil (otherwise he'd be happy to do some horribly violent things in the comfort of his own home). If Iggy is not a pacifist, Cecil will still try to arrange the hang out but will see the look on Orlam's face and call it off.

Instead of using a spear, he uses a cattle prod wrapped in barbed wire (what he uses to torture Iggy in act 2) including in chase sequences which does factor a bit into his fights.

No matter which version of the fight is done, he starts by throwing down a cattle prod for Iggy to use, if Iggy attacks without picking it up or tries to stall, Orlam will attack Iggy, causing barbs to wrap around the battle box and deal a damaging shock after a couple of seconds, between these attacks, Iggy momentarily blacks out (using the effect that the sans fight uses) before the formation of the barbs change. The barbs attack gets harder the more times it is triggered. Also in both fights, he tries to use everything he has to make Iggy go green with envy (or disgust) before attacking the soul in his own special way.

The regular fight has Orlam give a grand speech about how he's going to rip Iggy's soul from his chest before using the wish to rule the underground!

The murder route features Orlam the Unyielding (I couldn't find a good word beginning with O, if anyone knows one then please throw it and I'll use that in future). Much like how it goes in Undertale, Iggy starts a fight with the tomato headed child (this version's Monster Kid), when he goes to strike, he finds his attack has resulted in a hole where Orlam's heart should be. Orlam collapses before struggling to get back up, his whole body, even his clothes, have started to lose their colour, blood leaks from his mouth and black ooze slowly dribbles out of the hole in his chest. He attacks slower but much harder, his attack patterns becoming more complex and more freely using his cattle prod directly on Iggy.

If he is killed, he maniacally laughs that he'll never die and he will get the wish no matter what. Even if he has to skewer Iggy from behind.

If he is spared (same as Undyne, run away) he gets distracted when he sees Genzou and they (Orlam's side only) start to have a big argument, letting Iggy run into Hotland.

Next up is probably Gidget, I've decided to combine Alphys and Mettaton into a dual persona type deal so Gidget's part will be more different but more to combining the characters than throwing anything else in. Currently the only major plot differences are relating to the lack of Asriel and what the flower is, it's still related to the true lab, don't worry about that but if the sealed don't turn to dust, what the heck is in that lab?

And don't worry about the visuals, back to normal style for Gidget :3

[mvndrvke]

headcanons. mai's prophecy + cecil's death

years before the actual event, mai castellan predicts cecil's death in a prophecy given to @nosestealer. mai warns lou that cecil's death will be at the hands of one of lou's family line-- in this case, lou's sister lamia. cecil's death breaks something in those he loved, and his life is cut short in the fight against lamia that leads to his death.

lamia's attempt to kill lou is stopped by cecil, who catches her before she can find lou. cecil tries to raise the alarm, and fights lamia in an attempt to buy time for backup to arrive. cecil is an amazing fighter and able to hold his own. however, as mai's prophecy foretold, lamia strikes him and breaks his glasses. blinded, cecil is powerless to defend himself, and lamia kills him before fleeing.

nico avenges cecil's death by hunting down lamia and killing her. it is a brutal and bloody fight, and one that nearly kills nico. it won't bring cecil back, and nothing can ease the pain of losing him, but nico can at least be sure that lamia will never, ever hurt them again.

[dm-tainthairs-collection]

After The Black Rose

||Closed starter - @lostxndbroken | starter call post: X ||

ᒥ🗡ᒧ—        Eliza was successfully revenged, and our adventurers could go back to their travels and lives undisturbed. However, Lokemir did not give up his own quest so easily, for once he made gold without the sex, but he was really missing the sex part of the usual exchange.

The blue tiefling's tail wraps around Haldir's hand before he can ascend the stairs of the Black Rose Inn and go back to his room. "Wait just a moment, big boy~." The tiefling purrs. His tail releases the elf's hand and Lokemir begins to circle him almost like a hungry wolf. "You're fun~. Very fun~. I want more of you~." Lokemir smiles, moving in like cobra striking to take Haldir's hands and place them on his body.

The Rogue tiefling was quite forward in his advances with the elf, so much so that the orc innkeeper, Cecil, speaks up from the bar. "Not in my tavern. Take it upstairs. You may have rid my inn of ghostly fiends, but that does not give you a free pass to do unsavory things on my tables...Not even the burnt tables."

[mossycobbld]

Drawing a reminder to MarkxAmber using evidence from the comics as well (bear in mind is been over 10 years since I read it so some details remain iffy)

Amber had to always shove her feelings down for Mark, every time he disappears she doesn't have the luxury to call him, she doesn't have the luxury of thinking "well he's going to come back", she doesn't even have the luxury of being angry at him because whatever it is it has to be important (whether or not it really is important)

In the comics she hung out with someone and had a coffee date. He got a call from work asking him to come in and she already prepared a speech about how she won't be upset and she's okay with him going into work.

He told her he already told them no because he already promised to spend time with her and besides they had other people who could do the job and who didn't have other obligations.

Mark CANNOT DO THAT!

At this point this man is nothing more than a friend, he has no powers, but he does have an important job he loves and YET he can make time for coffee while Mark is always on Call.

In the show they had... something approximating a normal work life balance for about 5 minutes. Like Rex Splode promising to cover for Invincible for a night or two. And he told Cecil he needed a few nights off.

Not perfect by any means, but Mark did acknowledge that Amber was important and he was willing to push back and try for her.

Only for disaster to immediately strike.

And that shattered any illusion of a normal life with Mark and Amber. Amber will always be a target, Amber won't be able to fight back. She could be killed in less than a moment the only reason she wasn't killed was Anissa didn't want to kill her.

Even if Mark could keep his promises every time (which he obviously couldn't) this was always how it would end.

She can't talk about her dead grandpa (a moment most people need love and support through) because the world will always be ending, Mark is always healing from a fight. They can't go on a date because even if they succeeded and Mark managed not to fight the fight could just as easily come to him.

A parallel to his dad: Mark's mom knew from the beginning that Nolan was a superhero. Amber didn't.

Every moment Nolan did spend with Debbie he did try to make it romantic, he prioritized her, he went out to romantic dinners often, he flew her across countries, he spent time with her and even then Debbie said he was hardly around.

Even with Nolan refusing to join a team, even with Nolan refusing to work for Cecil, even with Nolan in at least one point, refusing to fight saying "Let Cecil earn his paycheck."

There is a metaphor there for the work life balance that appeals to me because I have a jard time setting boundaries. And I've been in Amber's shoes and Mark's shoes.

Neither are fun. But she had every right to walk away and I applaud her strength to make herself a priority and for the show going so far to show that she is right to leave and Mark was also right for being Invincible

I AGREE WITHH THIS STRONGLLYYYY

nolan — being one of marks important people in his life despite not being around incredibly often — had Definitely influenced mark’s relationship with amber. thinking it was fine to lie, to leave abruptly, etc etc. which made sense to some of the audience as well (ahem ahem , amber haters), the mindset that “Oh, mark is leaving because hes a superhero, he has things to do”. theyre only looking at marks perspective and refusing to look at ambes. and while that might be true that he has some form of obligation to save the world, who Wouldnt be upset that your partner up and leaves you. who wouldnt be upset that your partner lies and makes excuses, maybe even sometimes not making excuses?

which is why i think the choice that spiderman makes in one of the older movies to decline a relationship with MJ to keep her safe is a good choice. because unless youre prepared enough to balance school, relationships, and being a superhero, you have to make a decision because you cant have it all. which is something that is touched on in episode seven in season two. mark has to make a choice. because you cant forget that its only a choice, its a choice between putting yourself in danger, or putting yourself AND your loved ones in danger.

ambers character doesnt have an “improvement” from season 1. ive seen the comic dudebros say this. she only feels like she “improved” compared to season 1 because they dont like it when the girl dating the superhero doesnt comply with everything the superhero does. and lets be honest, its more than just trope divergence that makes those dudebros hate amber, and we all know it.

basically mark was never taught how to balance those lives personally. but he has definitely been influenced by his parents relationship. because of that influence, it lead to mark and ambers breakup.

let me know if i worded anything wrong because i suck at articulation 😓😓

[magz]

Adrienne Rich helped write the TERF bible "The Transsexual Empire" with Janice Raymond

Yup. For whatever reason, we recognized the name despite our horrid memory.

Sandy Stone had to respond to that with "The Empire Strikes Back: A Posttranssexual Manifesto",

along with sayings that Janice Raymond and Adrienne Rich made the original TERF manifesto bc of being rejected by a trans woman (entitlement).

They both encouraged + incited violence against and pushing out trans women from feminist conferences.

If someone (in this case Leslie Feinberg and spouse Minnie Bruce Pratt, as previous anon said) was not only friends with Adrienne Cecile Rich but stayed friends until her death in 2012,

then its a level of complicitness in transmisogyny that has to be criticized n acknowledged when discussing Leslie's writings and how TME LGBTs currently use hir writings as a cudgel and ideal in discussions of transmisogyny and gender. To be able have a complete conversation.

Am agree.

[windsroad]

ummm so I've never done a like writing challenge with prompts before and i'm sure you're supposed to do the one for the day it currently is but I'm writing anything from any of the previous days as I feel like because it didn't occur to me to try until yesterday!

this is something that happened to Sacha earlier in the campaign!

01 - panic attack

Obli flew through the air, jumping to the significantly taller troll’s height. With a strike almost too quick to see, the troll’s head slid backwards, away from the body, hitting the ground with a thud and slowly rolling to rest at Sacha’s feet. 

It blinked a few times, and the tongue lolled about in its mouth like it was trying to say something. Through the myconid’s telepathic spores, Sacha heard a few fleeting thoughts. 

Sacha’s vision tunneled. 

“They say after decapitation, you’re still aware of your surroundings for 30 seconds before you really die,” said someone in Sacha’s memory. 

It was her own voice. The memory, from maybe two years ago, was of Sacha explaining with some fascination the new modern theory that the brain was still active for a period of time post execution. 

“Gods, Sacha, I hope not,” said Cecil. “That would be—awful. Do you want to just be a head?”

“Only for 30 seconds,” said Sacha simply. “Maybe next time I’ll ask whoever it is to talk—oh wait, no lungs, right—blink for as long as they can afterward…”

Sacha returned to herself. The troll head rocked back and forth quietly at her feet.

The conversation continued to play in her head on repeat. She stared, and a parade of five years of executions danced before her eyes, one in particular lingering clear and crisp.

Oh, my god, Sacha thought. It was true.

“Sacha!” she heard, muffled in the background. It was like her ears were stuffed with cotton. She breathed heavy and quick; she could see nothing but the head and the dead boy pleading with her in her mind’s eye.

“Sacha! Sacha!” More shouting. Sacha’s breathing quickened further and her vision started to blacken, then—

A hand on her shoulder.

“Gah—!” Sacha jumped, instinctively moving her shoulder away from the touch.

“Sacha, are you okay?”

Not Cecil. A woman. Sacha blinked hard and turned to look. Borte. She was looking at Sacha, confused and concerned. “What happened?” she asked. 

Sacha briefly turned back in the direction of the troll’s head, but did not look at it. “Um,” she began, not making eye contact. “The troll—I—I used to be an executioner, and—”

“Does that happen… every time?”

“I don’t… I don’t know. I’ve never—maybe?”

“Okay, well… Take it easy.”

“Hm,” nodded Sacha. She turned away, trying to seem cool, but a voice in her head repeated: 30 seconds. 30 seconds.

[stephensmithuk]

The Sign of Four: The Episode of the Barrel

Victorian literature loves its fainting women. Was this down to overly tight corsets, ill health or someone just deciding to be dramatic for the sake of it? Possibly all of the three.

The woman Mary works for is not called Cecil Forrester. The conventions of this time were that women took their husband's legal identity. They certainly took their nationality, losing their own.

Forty-three is rather a large number of dogs to have. The RSPCA (which was a thing in 1888) would get involved if they knew about this facility today. Back then too.

The "wiper" or viper in this case is almost certainly Vipera berus aka the adder. Males are normally silvery-grey, females copper or brown. However, you can sometimes see black adders. If you want to see baldrics, go watch some Morris dancers.

The adder gives birth to live young (up to twenty at a time) and can live for over ten years. They are the only venomous snake of the three British native species, but for most humans, like Watson, a bite will just cause pain and inflammation. Ireland doesn't have any snake species at all, as the Irish Sea was too wide for them to get across.

The RSPCA would not approve of dropping an adder on someone as it would harm the adder. The police would not approve either.

It is legal to own a pet snake in the UK - indeed there are quite a lot of them - but you need a licence for the venomous ones today. This includes adders and all the viper family.

European badgers are different to the American ones. They are far more social, dig the most complex burrows and can also make a range of noises. They are also nocturnal, and they do bite if provoked. It is today illegal to have a pet badger, disturb their setts or injure them. Unless the government authorises a cull due to bovine TB, a controversial policy. Sadly, they frequently end up as roadkill.

It is legal to keep stoats, although controversial. They can kill animals much larger than themselves, like rabbits or birds. It is legal to kill them as a result.

Slow worms are legless lizards, not snakes despite their appearance. They do not have fangs. You could keep one as a pet, but not buy or sell one.

Sugar is not toxic to dogs but can cause problems in substantial amounts.

The penal colony on the Andaman Islands can really be compared to Devil's Island in French Guiana and should better known in the UK. The British sent many political prisoners, to wit independence activists, there from the 1857 Rebellion onwards. Crossing over the sea threatened devout Hindus with the loss of caste and the possibility of reincarnation, something known as "Kala pani". Arrivals would be put on chain gangs. Conditions would be harsh, with torture, medical experimentation, disease, and cruelty from the guards causing thousands of deaths. You could also be executed for trying to escape. Hunger strikes were common and responded to with force-feeding.

The worst prison at this time was on Viper Island, which contained solitary cells, whipping stands and stocks.

In 1872, a former police officer called Sher Ali Afridi sent there for murder after his death sentence, claiming he was acting on the instructions of Allah, assassinated the Viceroy of India, the 6th Earl of Mayo, who was inspecting the place. He had also wanted to kill the Superintendent but did not manage to do so. He was hanged a month later on Viper Island, where the gallows building still stands.

Viper Island lost its importance following the construction of the Cellular Jail at Port Blair, finished in 1906. That was also a very nasty prison, but it is beyond the scope of this post.

"Mohammedan" was a term used for Muslim in the West at the time, implying erroneously that Muslims worship their Prophet. They certainly hold him in great reverence, but they do not worship him.

Guess people started drinking early in Victorian times; licencing hours would not be introduced until the First World War.

The Oval is an international cricket ground in Kennington, the other famous ground in London along with Lord's. It traditionally hosts the final Test of the English cricket season and after getting gas lighting in 1889, it would get a Tube station nearby originally called Kennington Oval the following year, when the initial stretch of the City & South London Railway opened. Today, just being Oval and on the Northern line, it has cricket-related decorations on some of the tiling.

The land the Oval is on is owned by the Duchy of Cornwall, the large property portfolio belonging to the Duke of Cornwall, the title given to the eldest son of the British monarch; this currently being Prince William, who is also Prince of Wales, that title trumping it.

Coal-tar creosote has traditionally been used as a preservative to stop wood rotting when outdoors, something necessary in the wet British climate. It was also used in dentistry!

However, it was discovered to cause cancer. While still allowed for general use by the US Environmental Protection Agency, the EU banned its sale to and use by the regular public in 2003. The UK carried over this law after Brexit. Coal-tar creosote products can only be sold to certified professionals for specific uses, like farm fencing and railway sleepers. The public have to buy substitutes like Ronseal, whose famous advertising slogan declares "it does exactly what it says on the tin".