#event: what have you done?

[spiteful-bomb]

Overwhelming. That's what he'd call all this. Excruciatingly. Overwhelming. Spiteful sets his dart gun on the night stand, nervously looking up at the sky before heaving a sigh. Leaving it all behind. That's what he's doing. With nothing but a hoodie, sweatpants, a backpack of supplies, and a good few thousand bucks, he heads out his building and down the road. Into the Unknown. Where was he going? What was he doing? He wasn't sure yet but. He felt if he was gone maybe everything would simply. Hurt less. K's eyes waver as they stand there. Quivering. Something was wrong, her powers weren't working. She looks out to the sky. Why was it suddenly getting darker? That usually meant something had gone VERY wrong. She steps outside, looking up. Oh god.

"Spiteful.... what have you done?"

[morally-black-cloud]

"I don't wanna alarm anyone but..."

Cloaked looks around nervously.

"Thunderstorm's GONE."

[improvapocalyps]

You have 90 minutes to complete. (original poem: r.a.)

In participation of the MCYT Recursive Exchange 2024 hosted by @mcytrecursive!

Inspired by know that all my love will be your breath (i will save you when your lights go out)

[text under cut]

1. Have you ever been in love? (Please circle your answer.) a. It's me and him b. Our hearts beat in sync c. Our lives intertwined

2. Do you understand what you’ve done? (Please circle your answer.) a. I couldn't do anything b. I lost my balance c. I doomed us both

3. It's been god knows how long since you felt phantom hands on your neck and there is no one in sight. If you were soul-bound to him and both of you died at the same time then why are you still waiting in the void? Please answer clearly, in full sentences. (Not a correct answer：I just wanted to see him one more time).

4. Define two (2)： Fate | The feeling of his forehead against yours Curse | The moment you realise he isn't linked to you anymore

5. True or False： i. It was your fault. ii. You wish you had met him under different circumstances. iii. You can’t regret a single moment that you had him. iv. You would do it all over again if you could. v. It ended long before either of you said anything.

thumbnails:

sketch cover thing for imgur link:

[egophiliac]

do skully have pokemon?

Pumpkaboo is the obvious one, but y'know, sometimes the obvious one is the right one! (we'll say SUPER SIZE Pumpkaboo, just for fun. big pumpkin for big skeleton boy.) and another person actually also suggested Greavard, which I somehow hadn't considered, but feels so perfect that I feel like I should have. dangit.

(they can also have little Nightmare Suit costumes :D)

[margindoodles2407]

Just a quick and gentle reminder that it is never, ever okay to wish harm, destruction, and death upon people.

Ever.

[benevolenterrancy]

("Always. Continuously. With increasing apprehension, and decreasing hope. I will love you if I never see you again, and I will love you if I see you every Tuesday. I will love you as a corpse loves the beak of the vulture. I will love you no matter what happens to you, and no matter how I discover what happens to you, and no matter what happens to me as I discover this." -- paraphrased from The Beatrice Letters, Lemony Snicket)

[soratsuart]

I find it incredibly funny seeing some fans complain that the movie wasn't "lore accurate" as if FNAF has ever been consistent with its lore, like

Wow, the movie changes a lot of stuff and is not accurate to what we thought we knew? *looks at The Silver Eyes trilogy* I can't believe that, how horrible *looks at The Silver Eyes trilogy* Who would've thought they'd change stuff that makes us doubt what we know about the series *looks at the fourth fucking closet*

[avicecaro]

hate to say it, but part of ending the stigma around sexual assault means not assuming every woman blames herself. yes, female socialization encourages it, but that doesn’t make it a given, and the goal of all of these campaigns is to eventually diminish the proportion of women who do blame themselves. it is entirely possible, and increasingly common, for women to experience sexual assault and not feel shame or guilt, which we should be happy about. but instead, there are only so many times you can hear “you know it’s not your fault, right?” before it sounds like “it was your fault”. and there’s only so many times you can hear “don’t blame yourself” before it sounds like “you should blame yourself”. because it feels good to say, doesn’t it? sure, you don’t believe she’s guilty, but you do believe she should feel guilty, so that you can disabuse her of the notion. just something to consider.

[goldkirk]

I don’t know how to explain any more clearly that it doesn’t MATTER if it seems legitimate to you. You have got to fact check every single headline and post and claim on the left just like you need to do on the right.

The left is NOT immune to misinformation and rushed reporting. And the more emotionally polarizing or shocking the talking points, sound bytes, and headlines are, the worse it is and more frequently it happens.

Learn to verify through multiple independent sources. If you can’t do that, you can’t trust it.

If you have to wait extra hours for the real information to come through vetted channels—NOT just one individual somewhere everyone links to, and not just one single media source either, EVEN if it’s a major news network—thats just how it has to be. What news outside of genuine local disasters near you TRULY needs your outrage and post-sharing in the next hour specifically?

Misinformation works best by not seeming like misinformation and by fitting in with the rest of what you already expect to see. It doesn’t help anyone to not be able to recognize and avoid the stuff.

[ryllen]

"SO SHOW ME EVERYTHING THAT YOU ARE , T̷̤̘̺͓̟̽͋̍̍̋̄͛̕͝R̸͍̖̥͋̂͌͆̀̈̿E̴̗̠̥̣̘̼̞̺͓̥̋̈̌̎̀̍̎̓͆͝͠Y̷͉̱͍͚̖̖̟̙̘͗̐̓̅͌̓̈́͗̄ ̶̧̟̹͑̓͂͛͒̄̂̏̃̋̓͊͠C̷͎̲̖͍̩̮̲̜̲̯̗͖̘̱̖̀̆̓̋̄̌̐͛̒̔̈́̆͂̓͠Ļ̷̟̞͎͉͙͚̺̱̜̠̩̹̓̑̀ͅƠ̴̟̿̓̈́V̴̨̹͉̬̣̮̈́̌̉̈́̏É̸̡̢̝̟̜̝̯̺͉̫̣͚̲̱̕R̷̛̼̘̘͗̈́̄̉̋̀̈̎̊̀͝͝͠"

[spiteful-bomb]

bomber freezes, anxiety making the hair on the back of his neck rise "Yo, Miku. I'm getting some nasty vibes. uh. you might wanna get outta the area"

Miku tilts her head with a shiver.

"Y-yeah.. for the best..." She starts a shmoovin. Literally just speed walking away.

Safe. For now.

[morally-black-cloud]

“Wait, if it balanced itself by removing him, doesn’t that mean that something with equal weight has been added?”

-Rose Anon

".... Maybe?" She seems a bit lost.

[r0semultiverse]

[egophiliac]

I feel like F/P/S was still a pretty weird one, even by Lance's standards.

sorry for (in an ironic twist) not doing much Ride Kamens art now that it's actually started; I've been pretty slow going through it and I feel weird posting about things I'm not caught up on! though I'm. definitely gonna have to set aside some time to actually get through episode 13, after what they posted today. (w-what did they do to my Leon) (NOBODY TELL ME I HAVE TO FIND OUT ON MY OWN) (LEOOOOOOOON)

[dukeofthomas]

why does every reconciliation fic go like this

[londondungeon2]

concept with jade leech

there is no dire-beast inside the mirror chamber, and there are no ghosts inhabiting ramshackle. it is simply: you, alone in a rundown building, after the headmaster leaves.

you have been pinching yourself through the day. little crescent marks litter your wrist.

for the past six or so hours, you have been trying really hard to wake up from this dream. nothing is working. desolate, you take to wandering the house.

you know your imagination is strong but an entire college, idiosyncratic characters, and an entire furnished building is a bit complex. still, you card through the squabble, hoping to unearth some mistake in physics that will tell you that this is a dream. that search ends abruptly when you find a loose floorboard and the fragile wood underneath you gives out like a snapped cracker.

you land hard.

ten feet down in the basement, lying on your back.

blinking away dust, your eyes land upon the piece of wood speared cleanly through your abdomen.

the pain tells you this is too much to be a dream.

it is a full two hours you lie there immobile. you try rolling on your side, hoping to at least stand up, but each motion is anguish in an ineffable amount. you wrap your hands around the red wood and try to pull; it leads to your eyeballs rolling so far back you see new colors. skin shining with generous sweat and dipping in and out of consciousness, you lie there and bid limited time until someone from this new world comes to find you. the headmaster will eventually come back, right?

you think about a multitude of things.

you think about how if your corpse withers here, the puss running out your orifices will look like cream cheese.

you think about how the glittering wands those students held might work, is it like harry potter or a unique universe.

you think about how you still had to go to work tomorrow in your own original universe, attend classes, hope plans with friends don’t fall through so you laugh carefree without lungfuls of blood.

your last slip from consciousness to eternal unconsciousness, you think about home. the bed you slept in, the books read and films watched, the snack wrappers on the sheets, what a comforting waste.

you drift off, expecting to be jolted awake again by your own feverish mind, and die, bleeding out on ramshackle’s basement floor.

it takes azul awhile to gain ramshackle’s dorm.

the one new student he saw during the opening ceremony apparently stayed there one night and fled the next morning. as the headmaster’s report goes, crowley found no one living there when he went to check the following day. however, the usage of ramshackle by that magicless student opened up a gate of opportunity and azul did not let it go to waste.

the negotiations took awhile and the proper refurbishment will have to be done. but just before winter exams, azul has managed to secure himself a second location for mostro lounge.

first, damages have to be assessed.

the building is disgusting, rundown, and simply inhabitable. busy with the 250 students he has under contract, azul assigns jade to spend a november afternoon there and make note of what they need to start repairing first.

azul really hopes the plumbing is salvageable. the cost would be through the roof if otherwise.

so jade, hand over his heart, promises to survey ramshackle the next day and outline a list of high priority repairs to stuff they can skimp upon in the budget.

jade’s excited. the mountains he treks are northwest and ramshackle is northeast; this will provide him a new opportunity to see what kind of mushroom may lie on that side of the island. …oh, and he supposes he will also assist azul in his endeavor as well.

the next day, he spends half of the allotted time foraging outside of ramshackle before he actually walks into the building. i should make this quick and efficient. i only have thirty minutes left. notepad in hand, he starts to investigate the wreckage.

uninhabited and ugly. those are the two words that rise to jade’s mind first. truly, it is a lovely space and it would be a disgrace to see it painted in shades of lilac and oceanic decor. but, it will be entertaining nonetheless to see azul’s business expand.

yet, as he’s walking down the halls, jade cannot help but think he is hearing a second pair of footsteps just behind him.

yes, ramshackle is ugly but it does not seem to be as uninhabited as he thought. how intriguing.

so, sadistic grin blooming, jade decides to play a game. he will ignore this secondary person and continue on, waiting anxiously to see what will happen. he marks down his observations, all while feeling a pair of eyes upon his neck. lighting on the first floor needs fixing. the water runs orange in the upstairs sink. nothing entirely formidable has happen yet, but he hopes it will.

jade cannot wait to see if this ghost can turn his skin inside out, or perhaps drop a floorboard on top of his head, the possibilities are endless. it all has jade’s toes squirming in his dress shoes in anticipation.

however, his thirty minutes are up before he can descend the basement stairs and nothing has happened yet.

which is disappointing.

he’ll be back again tomorrow so there is always a chance for something then.

however, he had hoped for something to happen now.

just as jade is walking out the door, list and bag of mushrooms in hand, something ice cold tickles the hairs on his neck. frigid like home. he barely gets a chance to dwell on it before five frozen fingers wrap themselves around his throat and shove him down the porch steps.

the door to ramshackle slams shut.

sprawled on the ground, jade reaches his hand up to the idents on the column of skin, the previous touch thawing out.

he cannot help the deep blush that comes up to his face.

with a deep breath, his own gloves fingers still hovering over the lost embrace, jade stands up and pats himself down. he looks upon the closed door with a hunger in his eyes.

yes, tomorrow he will be back.

and he hopes this ghost will act up again because they have so much more allure to jade than a second mostro lounge.