#i still have to weave in the ends (so many fucking ends) and block but like

[sigmastolen]

Friends the Sweater is officially Off The Needles !

[weirdmageddon]

(originally written 8/21/24 on cohost)

there are actually a lot of things that john and aradia share beyond the bing crosbytop and fedora that are pretty intriguing to me like narratively. i was on the road and it sorta came to me as i was listening to music and i had to write it down when i got to my lab

both are the actual leaders of their session even though neither of them claim to be.

both are involved in the larger narrative of their story, on the “outside” or “above everything” with regard to paradox space. aradia’s leads with strategic understanding, watching how it unfolds, and john leads with a methodical one, putting the narrative into action. both of these end up leaving them feeling detached from everything in the end.

from andrew hussie commentary:

But even then, Aradia's only using him, too. She's playing everyone. She has a very advanced and pragmatic view of leadership when it comes to a Sburb session. She understands there's no such thing as a leader, just a bunch of sad kids getting played by Paradox Space. In a way, she's the most honest type of leader any session has. A leader by absentia, a cold orchestrator of preordained, controlled chaos, who creates the spaces for all the pieces to fall into place, and then just sits back and lets them fall. As Aradia's arc progresses and the ghostly freeze on her emotions and desires begins to thaw, one of the themes that starts emerging is the struggle over the nature of what is random in a universe where any appearance of randomness is prewritten as an essential result, and any act of destruction, no matter how violent or disruptive, only serves as a preconditional pillar for any foretold series of outcomes. As a robot, when she gets her emotional legs back under her somewhat, she gets more aggressive and starts lashing out, using acts of chaos, violence, impulsiveness, and randomness as a kind of protest against the bondage that existing in Paradox Space represents. In other words, there's no random act that reality hasn't accounted for, but aggressively enacting them is still kind of a Fuck You statement to the master. It's an attitude borne by a defiant slave, which she knows herself to be, just like her ancestor.

these evoke such similar feelings to me

(john art by @monteruu. lovely work by the way.)

john has an unconscious draw towards this information, his existence is a consequence of it, but is unable to weave it together into a framework. he doesn’t have the internal framework but he has the words so he’s confused. there was one post i once saw that had me clawing at the bars of my mental cage that's still somehow tangentially related to this general idea im trying to communicate.

(source)

and plato was.....LII. john expects reality to conform with the mental products of that guy, similar ideas that i have seen repeated throughout many other LII works, including carl jung and his idea of the collective unconscious and archetypes. and my own mind too.

“john expects reality to conform with his symbol language." that's literally how we could define the SUPER-ID block in socionics. the SUPER-ID block is the block where one is shaped by their most primitive impressions of what the world is, from the world.

for an ESE, john's type, their SUPER-ID contains -Ti → -Ne. erm...symbol language anyone? the ESE themself is the one spontaneously affected by that information, in contrast to LII, who can consciously follow this information and verbally deconstruct it.

(for description about these information elements and what they represent, refer to this. details about the meaning of the information element charges +/- can be read here.)

for me—and aradia, (and plato and jung too. also dipper pines. if you ever thought john and dipper have similar vibes youre not alone. someone pointed that out the other day i saw a tweet that said "John is kind of like dipper if he gave zero fucks what anyone else thinks of him" and i was like "im fucking telling you dude")— the SUPER-ID block of LII receives the aesthetic/sensory impressions that objects with certain energies give off (SUPER-ID block +Fe → +Si). to me the best i can describe this is receiving the dynamic, embodied expression of an individual object’s 'character' in motion and the impression it makes on me. many LIIs are musicians, or music is a big part of their life for this reason, because of this tonal + sensory impressionistic discernment.

+Fe -> +Si is the information i require from the world that i use to consciously classify things or compare them using my EGO block -Ti → -Ne. i classify things by their actual embodied characteristics, which makes me able to compare things in nuanced ways. since i have these energy-sensory impressions as a sort of backlog to compare things to, i can creatively describe something's essence in a million ways, from a million different angles. i’m even doing that in this post right now.

john is doing that in reverse. he takes the raw essence / potential itself (including himself) and can physically embody that potential in a million creative ways. think of how quickly he figured out what was available to him with punch card alchemy.

aradia knows her position in paradox space, whereas john does not. john doesn't make this distinction himself. like any introvert aradia is able to plot herself on a “map” to identify her placement / relationships among other objects (be it interpersonal, logical, within a space, and—most demonstratively for her—throughout time). i guess it allows her to cope better, but for john, this causes his depression and anguish to find meaning in his life once the narrative of homestuck ends.

theyre some of the most narratively involved characters in the chain of events of the story, but just from opposite sides. aradia exerts this as a hidden force causing consequential ripples over events in time (and she is aware of this, which is where a core theme was for her as a character and trying to rebel against the inevitable that she has to do anyway because paradox space is cruel), while being quite modest and unassuming as an individual. i think this is why ive seen people "forgot about her" because she wasn't in the spotlight and wasn't well understood, the weight of the role she played. i've likened this to her (4/2) demonstrative +Ni and (2/1) vulnerable -Se pole in the socionics framework. we see her story told mainly through the past and how she came to be in this state. a huge part of her arc that people take away is how much transformation she has been through. changes and relationships things hold to each other over time is a Ni concept. aradia constantly demonstrates this as an individual. i guess why it's called the demonstrative function. haha? i have the same information element placements as aradia, so i can draw comparisons to flesh this idea out further. my friend told once me something very pertinent: "Honestly I think a lot of your bigger influence is subconscious and something that most people have to circle around to appreciate. Like they have to live a little to appreciate your wisdom"

john is the opposite — we follow him. we see his role as it unfolds, we're along for the ride with him. his impact in the story gets more spotlight, he is the main character after all. and it's so interesting how john spontaneously adopts these roles to live up to through his actions. it's like he subconsciously knows he's the main character in some way, and acts accordingly: he serves as a more active presence in the present moment of the narrative than aradia whose primary effects are a result of that which stretches back to the beginning of these chain of events. john's actual presence in major events are crucial. (e.g. getting the code for Quills of Echidna to scratch the beat mesa, sticking his hand in the house juju). this is his (4/2) demonstrative -Se. we see him involved in these things, right here, right now. not in the past, but his presence right now. but there's a shadow side to this. as jung says, "No tree, it is said, can grow to heaven unless its roots reach down to hell". so given all of this, being an action hero constantly involved in the present, at the same time builds up as an inner experience of the self over time — (2/1) vulnerable +Ni, which we cannot see from the outside, but is a consequence of that presence that simultaneously evolves with every action john takes in the story. what do the collection of these experiences represent over time? who john is as an individual being in a narrative sense is something important to analyzing him as a character. what myth does he embody? what myth or idea is it that is essentially forced upon him by the world against his will, given his position among other objects? (1/2) suggestive -Ti → (2/2) mobilizing -Ne. this 1000% relates back to that symbolic language post. by the way.

when it comes down to it, it seems like outside world's mission for john's existence is because he is someone necessary. who else is going to do these things? john exudes optimism, capability, kinetic energy. this is why we see him spontaneously latch onto the positions (suggestive -Ti) that he finds himself in.

EB: but now they don't have dream selves left! EB: who ever goes will be risking their life for good, won't they? CG: THAT WOULD BE THE LOGICAL EXTENSION OF THOSE FACTS, YES. EB: this is unacceptable! EB: couldn't i do it? EB: i am apparently immortal, because of this god tier business, so the bomb probably would not kill me! CG: OK, BUT DON'T YOU THINK THERE'S A REMOTE POSSIBILITY THAT GOING ON A SUICIDE MISSION TO SAVE ALL OF REALITY WOULD COUNT AS A HEROIC DEATH? EB: hmm... EB: maybe i could try to be not all that brave while i do it? CG: YOU ASSHOLE, OF COURSE YOU'D BE BRAVE. THAT TENDS TO BE WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU DO SOMETHING REALLY FUCKING COURAGEOUS. EB: ok, well what about this. EB: since she is mortal, and i am not (sort of), and i don't need to do the scratch for a while, can i go help her? EB: maybe she could use some protection? maybe that is what dave was just trying to do, when he temporarily died. EB: remember, jack is still on the loose! he has killed rose and dave once, and me twice. CG: NO NO NO NO NO NO. CG: SWEET BLEEDING JEGUS, EGBERT, YOU KEEP BRAGGING ABOUT YOUR IMMORTALITY, AND THEN BRAINLESSLY ANNOUNCE PLANS TO GO OFF AND DO SOMETHING HEROIC! YOU'RE GOING TO HAVE THE SHORTEST LIFESPAN OF ANY IMMORTAL IN HISTORY. EB: sorry. :(

aradia’s trollian handle is apocalypeArisen. the final book in the new testament describing the apocalypse (book of revelations) is authored by a person named john. that’s all he refers to himself as, and nobody knows his actual identity. many iconic mythological figures come from there, like the four horsemen of the apocalypse and the biblically accurate angels covered in eyes from front to back and shit. like that’s the blueprint of the ‘apocalypse’ myths that pervade culture. apparently the book was written from his visions in patmos, greece. the only reason i made this connection was because of the amazing musical adaptation of it into the album 666 by aphrodite’s child (1972) that has be absolutely hooked, but still it made me do some reading since i wanted to know what was up since i'm secular, and that's where i found intriguing links to my thoughts about them.

because etymologically.... apocalypse (ἀποκάλυψις) is a greek word meaning "revelation", "an unveiling or unfolding of things not previously known and which could not be known apart from the unveiling.” sounds familiar to things i have been describing in this post, particularly from john (egbert)'s perspective. my friend said "john is like a guy lost in a desert without a map with random landmarks that don’t make sense and aradia is like watching him from a helicopter with a map".

one more thing. i read that the johnannine works took a more gnostic approach than other parts of the canon.

The origins of Gnosticism are obscure and still disputed. Gnosticism is largely influenced by platonism and its theory of forms. Many Gnostic texts deal not in concepts of sin and repentance, but with illusion and enlightenment.

and oh god and so much of homestuck has roots in gnostic thought AND plato's theory of forms. keep in mind that homestuck is a creation myth itself. like, yaldabaoth the denizen IS the demiurge. no wonder theory of forms is such a vital idea to homestuck's mythology. and that's why john seems to fit so well into that world, because he expects reality to conform with his symbolic language.

[patchiko]

hey guys! its been awhile and a lot happened!! first of all sorry for going ghost!! love you guys hope i didnt worry you guys.

second! i got a lot of inspiration from the fic i originally was gonna make for ak!jay, and slowly it became a lot more of a fanfic to me.. i decided to animate it! im currently working on it, its a digital horror series! while it isn’t really ak!jay, i totally stole so many of his traits for the deuteragonist lol,, (it is basically him)… i dont have any art or animations i wanna share yet,, but here is the half of the first chapter i never released to da public when it was still just a fic… hope you enjoy!

- LOVE KRASH

EG0 DE@TH; CH. 1 “CHERUB MUTULATION .”

Gotham City was electricity, captured and held together by wires that entangled each other perpetually, filled with an everlasting buzz. The buzz you’d hear in the flickering street neon lights and signs. Buzz you’d see in the grainy holograms above buildings that dominated the sky; ridiculing stars for kids who’d beg for a wish; A buzz you’d find in the Gothamites that were charged in the wired world of Gotham City.

Your buzz made your skin prickle while you waited for that green light to go red. Stuck in a field of organic mass, rapidly tapping your feet against the wet ground, tightly grabbing your jacket. Eyes flicked to the cars then returned to the traffic light routinely for seconds that felt too long.

A man, wired with too much of what he could take, plucked himself from the membrane and departed towards the bustling street. Halfway down the boulevard a driver glued to their phone stomped on their breaks and swerved their car, too damn late though. The man attempting to cross the street slammed into the car windshield, you flinched and turned away, only hearing the sickening sound of metal. You couldn’t keep your eyes closed too long though, bodies disjoined from the cluster, rushing forward and past the spectacle.

You too cross the street, passing by the scene where two women argued about the cars, the man lies motionless in a murky puddle, cradling his skull. The cars behind the event generously applauded accordingly, an amazing finale to end the night.

Chance and tragedy interlink as much as good and bad luck do. So taking both as what they are, an opportunity, will always be in your favor. Well, at least in Gotham City it is.

Slugging your way down the next block, a heavy backpack clings to your back as you pass by people. Gang members, fathers, drug dealers, groups of friends, working ladies, and mothers, what made them all different was aught and naught. *Clink!* A paramedic lift shot behind you, hovering above the car wreck. First responders dropped down from the lift, you couldn’t see any more than that from the mob behind you.

Your body slams into something. “What the fuck?” A blonde, the type that’d make someone think they saw an angel, stared down at you with a look that was anything but holy. “Watch where you’re fucking going.” She shoved herself past you, her head flicking back toward her phone. *Clink, Clink!*

You let out a shaky breath and continued down the block, turning into a familiar quiet alleyway. The fidgeting of your jacket zipper got more pronounced as you faded from the beehive behind you; echoing off the musty brick walls, *Clink, Clink, Clink!* The tranquility was short-lived when you got to the litter-strewn back staircase of Gotham City Public Library or as you just called it ‘A Mouthful’.

You silently reminded yourself to remind Nicolas to walk to the goddamn dumpster instead of tossing them and ‘Hoping for the best.’ The vending machines chattered as you grudged past them, praising their weekend discounts. You unlocked the back door and— *Thud!*

*“*No way that fucking box is still there.“ You said.

“—Winter sale on coff—“

“—There’s no fucking way.“

“In the mood for a sprite?”

“There's no fucki—“

Now weaving your way through the Gothic decor of the library, the smell of old pages and coffee filled your nose. From the fleeting glances you got through the bookcases, today was the usual. Late-night college students much like yourself crammed in as much studying as they could, a few homeless sleeping comfortably, along with the main entrance security guard.

Flinging open the door to the employee’s lounge, there was no sign of anyone, the dusty couch and pale walls were untouched. Lugging over to your locker you sighed, while taking off your backpack your shoulder hit against the locker door. All you heard was the sound of metal crushing like tin cans, and when you shut your eyes for a moment, just a moment, you could hear the sound of someone's skull popping against concrete.

…

From what The Hood gathered, around two weeks ago a new drug had debuted. For every heroin addict this was the greatest invention in the thirtieth century. It was pricey, only dealt to Gothams higher ups, but Red was lucky to find a few who just couldn’t keep their vinegar scented arms away from it. More specifically The Penguin’s men.

….

thats all love you so much!! will update when first episode is out! let me know if you guys are interested in seeing that! dont know if im gonna keep posting on this acc, but ill def keep my fics up. love you guys!

[mylittleredgirl]

20 questions for fic writers

tagged by @geneeste. :) i may have done this one before, but tumblr blog search was traditionally unhelpful and i have several very important things i should be doing, so here we are <3

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? 219

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 655,471

3. What fandoms do you write for?

stargate atlantis is the runaway lead, then sg-1, 90s/00s treks, the x-files, and a grab bag of other things. only two fics so far for m*a*s*h but the forecast looks good!

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

no sooner met (star trek voyager, j/c, eight years of friends-to-lovers in 5k or less)

career day (stargate sg-1, clone!sam/jack, damn that sure was a choice to go back to high school amirite)

next chapter (the good place, chidi/eleanor, the intimacy of reading)

first date (star trek voyager, j/c, falling in love again)

occupational hazards (the good place, chidi/eleanor, eleanor would rather not be the architect)

5. Do you respond to comments?

eventually!!!! i tend to keep nice ones on my home page for a while to cheer me up and then sometimes they get buried. i wake up nights like "damn the good place fandom really went all out with amazing comments on that random fic in like 2018 and i never replied," so maybe i need to go through my inbox and belatedly clear my cosmic debts.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

twilight (stargate atlantis, sheppard/weir, what if john didn't break the cycle). strong on style but real weak on comfort.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

weaving loose ends (stargate sg-1, sam/jack) ends with a wedding! in twenty years of writing romance fic, that has maybe only happened once?

8. Do you get hate on fics?

not yet! but the year is young.

a fic of mine did cause a dramatic fandom schism once, in the dancing with the stars fandom no less. a splinter fan group created in exile! a mod claiming to be personal friends with the stars! everybody storming out and then blocking each other! so my fic did cause hate, but somehow i personally escaped unscathed. i didn't even get blocked. (lesson: in some spaces, rpf is encouraged until They Fuck. second lesson: if you start a fire and then stay very quiet, everyone forgets about you.)

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

i do!! i guess!! but i'm struggling with it right now and it's giving me a complex. and "what kind" is like......... vanilla het fic for the most part tbh. gauzy curtain vibes, even. basically, i have to really sit and think about whether to rate something M or E, you know?

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

nope!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

nope!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? 

yes, but not since the x-files days. rip geocities webrings we salute you for your years of service.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

no, but i think i'd like to! passing chapters back and forth sleepover style like "haha write your way out of THIS" would be fun. (or collaborating in a more mundane way, i guess....)

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

john sheppard/elizabeth weir (stargate atlantis). first fic in the tag and i'm still fuckin there. three years on tv and a lifetime in my goddamn brain.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

realistically, i'm feeling pretty down on the chances that i'll ever finish ANY wip that's longer than 20k, but the two long ones withering on the vine that i'd like to finish are a sam/jack sg1 episodic soulmate fic and "what if janeway went undercover with the maquis instead of tuvok: the novel."

16. What are your writing strengths?

stealing one of geneeste's answers because "character complexity" is a good one! i don't feel satisfied with any fic unless i feel like i have learned something new about a character, or highlighted it in a new way.

my more specific strength, according to @coraclavia, is missing-scene fics that weave through an entire series canon to make a thesis statement (they are In Love).

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

😭 i can't write anything long 😭 i really wish i were different 😭 i envy those of you with staying power who can return to a story after going to work or writing something else and keep plugging away at it. i used to write sprawling things when i was a teen, but since becoming Adult With Job now many years ago, i've totally lost that skill!!

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

haaaahahahaha. talk about a weakness. i literally couldn't bring myself to write a fic that required dialogue in Ancient from stargate, a language that -- i cannot stress this enough -- is not even real. i'm like "well maybe i'll study latin for three years and then analyze all the episodes where they speak it to reverse engineer the differences so i can write the bastardized space latin correctly" GIRL WHY. JUST FUCK IT UP.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

first completed story that i recall would have been star trek voyager in my early teens, and by the grace of rural internet and some kind of prescient sense of self-preservation, it does not live online. first internet-published fic was several years later, for the x-files. for better or worse, that one can still be found.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

i think pieces (stargate atlantis, sheppard/weir, catharsis through sex pollen) might be the new best, and i had a lot of fun writing erasers on pencils (stargate sg-1, clone!sam/jack, catharsis through truancy).

--

i am sure many of my fic-writer-meme friends have done this already but @ussjellyfish if your answers have changed since whenever you did it last; i'd love to hear how @havocthecat, @anretc, and @coraclavia would answer this; and blowing dandelion meme seeds over the fence to the mash fandom: @remyfire!

[outofthiisworld]

GET TO KNOW YOUR ADMIN !!

name: Boo! pronouns: She/They (no preference, i like both :3)  preferred comms: tumblr ims mostly! if we mesh well+spoken ooc a lot we can chat on discord too :) i uuh do tend to forget to check my discord messages outside of my webhooks however names of muse: Ophelia, Doc, Copycat and Father Necrosis rn! A few ✨secret-menu✨ muses/npc’s as well

experience in RP: been rp’ing since i was 13 so bout 14 yrs exp rn! (i say 10+ in my rules tho cause that’s one less number i have to change each birthday)— most of my experiences have been w/ a close knit group of buds that soon turned into 1+1 rp’ing with a bestie im still VERY close with :3c

i dabbled in online rp’ing around eeeeeehhh 2015ish but i certainly wasnt putting myself out there like i am now sdfsdfg

best experiences: the entirety of this blog tbh. a few bumps in the road and learning curves to get back into the groove of things, but ultimately i feel like a carved out a really excellent and chill lil’ corner on this site :”) special shoutouts to some really INCREDIBLE partners and buds that make rp’ing on here beyond delightful:

@pzfr is a phenomenal writer, a beyond thoughtful rp partner and perhaps a bit too powerful of a creative— personally if some horrific yet comedic demise should befall me then i trust full custody of doc & ophelia to him 100% HE GETS IT (don’t u worry i’ll live forever tho). For real though, there's such genuine love in the way he works with the genres that inspire him as well as with writing as a whole! @5mind GAAAARLIIIIIIIC. we continuously cook up dubious foods in the dms; our plots are forebodingly diabolical (affectionate) and [covering garlic's ears] i still plan to consume their brain for power. he’s got THE most creative and inspired never before seen characters on this side of the universe that i adore so so so much and tbh if you aren’t following her like…….bro be fr with me rn like why @riiese Mark’s writing legitimately inspires me. They are THE voice master dude. The way they weave words together feels right out of a fairytale with this whimsical magic to it that gets me lost in the moment!!! i can’t help but get swept up in their beautiful prose!!! @dynamoprotocol BRO lowkey i remember being shocked when I saw he followed me. From the writing, the care to detail, the art, Clarissa/Chance’s development, the worldbuilding, AND he’s CHILL AS FUCK??? and you wanna follow ME dude??? for real though, i cant sing enough high praises!! @natterghast i stumbled upon her by chance and sooooooo happy i did <33 their ocs absolutely captivated me, each one has this cozy cosmic horror vibe that im? obsessed with?? AND THE WAY SHE WRITES IS SO GORGEOUS AND FULL OF MEANING AND CARE THEY PUT IN AND [wrattling the bars in my enclosure]

there are so many more i can shout out but i will have to cap it here since this post has gotten ... so long and i am now so sleepy. Genuinely though, everyone I follow and get to see pop up on my dash both makes me day and inspires me as a creative each and every time!!!

pet peeves/dealbreakers: the biggest ones for me rn are like … needlessly aggressive ooc attitudes, be it towards anons, in rules, in posts— esp if someone is flaunting about being mean i uh. have fun i guess? not for me.

Condescending rules, especially those geared towards oc’s, might even result in an insta-block from me. (i promise it’s okay to just say ur selective overall and leave it at that).

muse preference ( fluff, angst, smut ): I generally like to lean more into light-hearted & comedic stuff, esp when first interacting but cus it’s fun! Once I get comfy with my rp buds tho i do loooooove to get into the meat n potatoes— the drama, the action, THE DRAMA!!! <- but a nice balance is important to me!

if everything is doom n’ gloom all the time without either a break, some sort of bitter-sweetness, and/or light at the end of the tunnel— then The Dread™ starts to feel too much for me :0 that being said … horror is … so much fun too <3

plot or memes: memes are a life savior esp when it comes to breaking the ice— i wouldn’t be cookin’ up like. any of the delectable plots i got brewing in the dms without em >:0

long or short replies: BOTH! i tend to naturally lean towards longer replies, moreso because i always have A Lot To Say™️ but i love goofing around with shorter stuff <3

best time to write: if i had my way it’d be an hour or two after i wake up in the morning and made myself my fancy energy drink + did my n.eopets dailies 💕 i try to make sure i get one day off like this each weekend it’s so lovely. Otherwise, i try not to stress about it too much and do what i can. i want my rp buds to know i genuinely dont mind waiting for replies or anything and i think it starts with how you hold yourself to that same degree too

are you like your muse?: ooooo aren’t we all in some way? it’s important to sprinkle some part or facet of YOU into them, especially ocs!

i will say, Doc is far closer alike to me versus anyone else on this blog, esp when it comes to values! he’s just far more gung-ho that i could ever have the energy to be tho. also i hope im not as stubborn as him 💀

i did give Ophelia my weird girl tendencies tho but cranked that shit up into MAXIMUM OVERDRIVE!!!

tagged by: @pzfr

tagging: i uh. i think most of my mutuals already got tagged this SO if you see this and you havent........PLEASE do this and tag me weeheehee <3

[greghatecrimes]

Easter Eggs - In the Dirt Chapter 3

Okay. I have so many of these that I threw in for funsies. I had to have something to keep myself entertained while PVP-ing writer's block for six months xD I'll post my favorites first, just since the list is kind of ridiculously long, lol.

First: the entire funeral section of the chapter is written with the same structure as the first chunk of chapter one. >:) ("Sticky counters under fingertips. The sharp tang of sweat and alcohol..." -> "The stifling scent of artificially perfumed flowers. A dusty Princeton funeral home...")

Now for narration and dialogue. Unless stated otherwise these are just meant to be parallels/nods that we the readers see, not that the characters are explicitly referring to within the story.

"I'm going to die. What difference does it make if it's when I'm still young and healthy, or if it's five years from now when I've lost the ability to walk? To talk?”: This one is meant to be a tonal parallel to Thirteen and House's argument in You Don't Want to Know. ("I might die. So could you, you could get hit by a bus tomorrow. The only difference is you don't have to know about it today, so why should I?")

"Oh, grow up.” House snarls, so sharply that Thirteen feels herself flinch. “It's the same for all of us. Everybody dies. You know damn well that none of us get to do it with any dignity.”: HNNNNFHFSDF this is my favorite one. On my part, it's a reference to both Pilot ("You can live with dignity; we can't die with it") and House's angry, grieving outburst to Thirteen in Dying Changes Everything. ("People die! You, Amber, everyone. Don't act like you just figured that out.") Within the story, House only intended it to be a callback to the latter.

"You'd rather die than let anyone see the real you, because you think you're weak. You think you're pathetic.”: OOSHGSDF THIS IS MY OTHER FAVORITE. Okay. This was meant to be a parallel to my 7x18/5x08 web weave. Specifically House's dialogue with Sophia in Emancipation ("You need people to see how independent you are, how well you're coping. So they won't see the lost, hurt little girl.") (The other parallel to the web weave that I threw in there was Thirteen's later thought of House... what did you do?)

Before you start yelling at me– They're heading down a two-lane road, passing field after field under a dizzyingly wide blue sky, and Thirteen's vision fills with green-green-green– I'm doing this because I care about you.: When I first set up this connection when I was outlining the chapter, I almost fuckin' screamed. BIRTHMARKS. BIRTHMARKS!!!!!!!!! ("I am not doing this because I care.") I drove myself fucking insane with this one. I could write a whole ass post about the parallels between this chapter and parts of Birthmarks, but I think a lot of it will probably end up getting sprinkled into House's POV. (Edit to add: and the drugs. that was ALSO an intentional birthmarks reference. Idk how I forgor the drugs😭)

The rest are under the cut if anyone is curious!

Thirteen asking Foreman "Are you... okay?" at the beginning of their phone call: This was meant to parallel the moment in The Dig when Thirteen asks House the same thing, immediately after finding out that he and Cuddy had been dating but broke up.

“You had me worried for a second there. I thought you were about to show up at my apartment with a dead body or a stab wound.”: A nod to Darrien going to Thirteen for help in After Hours.

"I'm sorry." "Hey, no, don't do that.": Parallel to Remorse, when Foreman apologizes for firing Thirteen in the middle of their argument, and Thirteen snaps, "Don't do that! That's not what this is about!"

"What, did he finally break parole and get arrested or something?": Parallel to an exchange between House and Thirteen in The Dig about Lucas ("You could have at least hired Cuddy's weird boyfriend." "Lucas?" "Mmm-hmm." "You don't know?" "What, is he dead or something?"). Except with the horrible irony of: this time, someone actually is dead. Or something.

“I’m trying... to say that he’s gone. House is gone.” “Excuse me?”: Meant to be a thematic mirror image of a moment between Foreman and Thirteen in The Softer Side ("Do you miss sleeping with women?" "Excuse me?"). Tone-wise and context wise, they are complete opposites. But both times Thirteen reacts to the shock by asking for clarification (because clearly, to her, what she just heard can't possibly be what Foreman intended to say.)

"We've gotta be realistic. He's attempted before.” “Yeah, four years ago!": Reference to House quite literally killing himself (for less than two minutes) via electrocution in 97 Seconds.

"Why the hell did you just give up? What happened to 'killing yourself is never the answer?'”: House is referencing what Thirteen tells their patient in The Softer Side ("No matter how bad things get, killing yourself is never the answer"). He didn't mean it as a reference to Kutner, but it triggers memories for Thirteen of Kutner's suicide.

His words hit her like a sucker punch as memories of a different person– a different time and place, blood coated over her hands and face, cold and thick and copper-crisp– flash before her mind's eye.: Thirteen remembering the moment they discovered Kutner in Simple Explanation. (Also occurs at the end of the chapter when she feels "someone else's blood that drips from her face")

House's jaw drops.  “Charity case?” he demands, incredulous. “After everything I've done, you think that's what this is? A charity case?": lol this was just a nod to the title of the 'House fires Thirteen so she can be happy' episode being Charity Case. Something something House has never seen Thirteen as a charity case something something Thirteen tries to say he does so she can deny emotional involvement/connection.

She'd written out a little speech. Something about spud guns and lesbian bars and the number thirteen...: In-story reference to the events of The Dig and The Choice

Chase's easy grin, Eric's warm hand around her own: Thirteen remembering Last Temptation (Chase grinning and hugging Thirteen when he sees her again for the first time) and Simple Explanation (Thirteen and Foreman holding hands as they watch Kutner's funeral procession)

The cool metal of a spud gun beneath her fingers and House's hand over hers, steadying: That one screen cap from The Dig where Thirteen's aiming the spud gun and House looks like he's supporting her/guiding her through it. Thirteen is remembering that moment.

[adelaidedrubman]

why does it always have to be wednesday

tagged today my dears @socially-awkward-skeleton @direwombat @inafieldofdaisies today to share a wip! thank you my beloveds

sadly i haven’t had the brain functioning to make progress on anything much besides the sexless kinktober oneshot i won’t inflict on the general masses, so you’re getting some older america’s sweetheart epilogue that was written/occurs before the excerpt i posted last week from the same scene (and which i also posted a small excerpt of before unprompted)

Long, wild cascades of copper dyed deep crimson fluttered in the wind, a too-bold contrast against the rich green of the pines to grant Jestiny any semblance of stealth as she ran.  She made a futile effort at weaving herself into the shadows, darting in the thick of the forest where trees grew denser.  Her own heavy panting drowned out the crunch of footsteps against brittle grass, so that she had to glance quickly over her shoulder to see how close he’d managed to follow her — too close, the glint of a silver blade popping out from the tree trunk behind her. 

She ducked — just in time for sharpened steel to bury itself into bark rather than her skull. But her efforts at bolting further forward were still met with pain splitting along her skull —an ear-splitting shriek burst from Jestiny’s lips as she found her long hair caught and twisted in a low-hanging branch.  “Divine intervention,” the knife-wielding man exclaimed with a demented laugh as he caught the hand reaching to yank hair from the branch. “How many times must it happen before you see God is on my side?”  Tears welled in her eyes as she struggled, thrashing her head back and forth in an effort to pull her hair free. “Just get away from me!”  “Oh, Deputy.” John released her wrist, weaving the fingers of the freed hand in the length of taut-pulled hair to grip and shove her against the tree trunk, guiding the tip of the knife to the throb of her jugular. “Did you really think we wouldn’t meet again? That a gang of sinners with badges blazing in to save the day would be the end of it, simple as that?”  “So you’re going to end it now?” she croaked out, defiant, blinking away her tears. “You’re gonna really kill me, this time?” she asked, darting her eyes between gleaming silver and unblinking blue. “Or — Or just skin me alive?”  “Not today,” he answered, tracing the tip of the knife along her jawline, up to the dip beneath her ear. “Your death and your Atonement are yet to be scheduled,” he purred, dripping with sadistic delight as he raised his arm, pulling the fistful of hair high enough she was lifted off the ground by it. “But…”  His eyes finally left hers, ratcheting upwards to focus on the length of hair he held stretched against the trunk of the tree as he muttered, almost as a recitation to himself, “But I need to cut something up…”  With that, he dragged the blade across the copper flattened along the tree — her hair falling to brush along her jaw as she dropped to the ground with the tether she’d hung suspended by severed.  She curled her finger into the brittle grass, balling into fists as she lifted her head to look up at him, tears streaming down her cheeks.  “My hair!” she cried, throwing a hand up in defeat to rain confetti of crushed brown grass to fall onto her lap. “My beautiful, long hair! How could —”  “And so, the Lord had left —”  “Cut!” Jestiny screamed, stomping onto the set before Andrea could move to block her. “I mean, Jesus fucking Christ, pun intended — cut!”  “That was the fourth wig today…” “That was the fourth shitty fucking take today!” Jestiny shouted in reply to the man shuffling his way back to the wardrobe department, before glaring between the actor playing herself and the man cast as John. “I mean — are y’all trying to fucking bomb? This is my life, people!”  “This is my production,” the director said sternly from off set. “And only I say cut. Why do you keep interrupting perfectly good —”  “Because it’s all fucking wrong!” Jestiny bellowed, waving an arm about wildly before taking a hearty gulp from her venti Starbucks cup, the stench of whiskey soaking heavy into the air as she did. “That’s not how any of it fuckin’ happened!”  “Was the line wrong?” Flynn asked, lowering his prop knife. “Did I misquote, or —”  “No, that’s what he said. Word for word.”  “Then did we do something wrong?” Olivia pressed, taking off her wig. “Get something out of order or —” “No,” Jestiny answered. “That’s exactly how things went down when he chased me through the woods and chopped my hair off the day after the arrest.” “Then what’s wrong?” “The whole fucking tone of it, that’s what’s wrong,” she spat, beginning to frantically pace. “It lacks authenticity. It lacks intimacy. It —” She ran a hand through her hair. “Did you even read my memoir?”

tags out to my beloveds @quickhacked @jackiesarch @v0idbuggy @orionlancasterr @stacispratt @8bitpizzacoupons @strangefable @shallow-gravy @roofgeese @florbelles @josephslittledeputy @afarcryfrommymain @poetikat @just-another-wasteland-merc @voidika @captastra @confidentandgood @belorage @deputyash @blissfulalchemist @shellibisshe @thedeadthree @nightbloodbix @ladyofedens-blog @miyabilicious @simplegenius042 @henbased @clicheantagonist @firstaidspray @strafethesesinners + opt in for wip day tags here!

[thoughts-with-hailey]

My Life in Prythian - Chapter Twenty-Four

Drinking Games - Eris POV

Summary: there are games and we are drinking

Eris

Her hand was in mine. 

She was willingly touching me. 

Her scent was surrounding me. 

Gods, she was so fucking perfect. 

Her delicate fingers gripped mine with surprising strength, weaving in between the spaces of my fingers that I had never considered empty until hers filled them. Her other hand had come up to grip my bicep, holding me close to her as we leisurely walked the well lit paths around the party, and I swore it was the most intimate way I had ever been touched in my life. 

Oh, I had been touched and had touched in return. Many nights I spent between the thighs of a willing partner, or them between mine, and not a single encounter could compare to the simple way her innocent touch ignited everything in me. It took only seconds for her to hold me like I was her dearest friend and when I had waved my free hand to light the rest of the torches lining an unused path she had turned her radiant smile up to me like I had not just insulted her multiple times over. 

“It’s truly wonderful here! I love seeing all of you do your little tricks,” she beamed up at me, clearly pleased with my small display of magic. A content sigh escaped her lips and she leaned in closer as if she was trying to draw heat from me as a cool breeze whisked past us. Behind us I could feel the lingering gaze of Azriel, Azzie, and tried to block him out so I could enjoy these few precious moments with her. 

“It’s very different from the Night Court.”

“It is,” she agreed softly, turning her head to look around once more. “I like the Night Court, or that I have seen of it, is beautiful. Velaris is one of the most stunning cities I have ever seen, and yet it does not compare to this.”

“This?” I asked, not sure I was hearing her properly. 

Looking around I tried to see it through her eyes, taking in the array of perpetually color changing trees and the crunchy leaves beneath them, the crisp scent of autumn that clung to everything all year round, and the chilled air. It was the same views I had spent my life with aside the rare times Beron sent me on missions elsewhere and though I loved my court, it was nothing compared to the wondrous starlit sky of the Night Court. At least there they had different seasons that would change the monotony of day to day life. Living in forever autumn made every day, week, month, year, every fucking decade feel the same with nothing to break up time passing. Each day was as boring and tortuous as the last. 

“All of this!” she exclaimed, releasing her grip on my arm to gesture around and I instantly felt the loss of her touch. I opened my mouth ready to beg her to give me back that small pleasure but she did so before I could, her grip even tighter before as her face lit with excitement. “Fall has always been my favorite, Eris. The colors are richer and the air is earthier, everything just feeling cozy and perfect. Sweaters by the fire, crunchy leaves underfoot, apple flavored treats and savory squash dishes! There is nothing like fall, and it’s always too short in the human world. I get maybe two weeks of it, if that, between the end of summer heat and the snow coming in. I’ve always wished I could live somewhere that’s like this all year round.”

I blinked, unsure I was hearing her properly. She truly loved this? I mean…I suppose if you’re human and only get weeks of this a year for the meager amount of time a human exists I can understand why it would be wonderful to see, still… Her loving it, her wishing she could have this year round? The cauldron must have known when it chose her as my mate, giving me someone who wouldn’t mind the constant state of the weather. As much as I adore my mother, she hates the forever autumn even more than I do, constantly complaining that she wants the warmth of summer. Having a Lady Autumn who loves her land would be a nice change for our people. 

Of course, I was getting ahead of myself. She could not be Lady Autumn if she was tied to someone else and by the possessive way Azzie was hovering behind us I had little doubt in my mind that he had laid full claim to this female. 

I tried to hold back my sigh at that. My mate and Azriel? Fucking ironic really considering the years of tension between the shadow singer and I that I had avoided acting on specifically because of how complicated it would make my life, and now there I was walking arm in arm with my mate who was claimed by that same male. 

I had the worst luck. 

Truly. 

“I think we should play a game,” Hailey suggested absently, tugging me slightly to the right so she could step her slippered foot on a particularly crunchy leaf, then grinning to herself when the sounds of it under her foot filled the air. 

Fuck she was cute. 

“A game?” I asked, tugging her towards the left to do the same and my heart warming when her grin spread wider. 

“Mhm. It’ll be fun. We go back and forth asking questions, and we have to answer honestly. If you don’t want to answer a question then you have to drink and you forfeit your right to ask a question.”

“How will we know if the other person is answering honestly?”

She shrugged. “You have to trust each other.”

Interesting. Obviously I did not trust she would give honest answers and I did not like that I would not know what she would ask, however this might be a perfect way to get information out of her, get to know her. “We will need wine.”

“Azzie!” she chirped, turning to him with big eyes and a bigger smile. “My sweet, sweet Azzie, can you fetch some wine and three glasses?”

His eyes narrowed on her. “Three?”

“You’re playing too, aren’t you?” she batted her eye lashes. 

Those eyes narrowed even further and he looked between the two of us for a moment before he sighed. “You stay right here where I can see you. I’ll be back in a moment.” The warning in his voice was clear, evident that he didn’t trust me alone with her, and I gave him an eye roll. There was little I could do to harm her considering were were a dozen yards from the rest of the gathering. Not to mention that I would never lay a hand on who was going to be my savior. He didn’t need to know that last part though. 

The nearest servants were within eyesight so he would be back soon even if he was out of earshot for a moment. Though, with those shadows of his I wasn’t sure if he was ever truly out of earshot. I glanced down and eyed my pretty mate. “I am shocked he let’s you call him Azzie.”

“I have a feeling I’ll pay for it later,” she laughed, looking all too pleased about that prospect. 

I tried not to imagine what that meant. 

Moments later Azriel returned with two bottles and three glasses, his expression as somber as ever. Wordlessly he turned towards a well lit gazebo that was in view of the party yet secluded enough that we wouldn’t be bothered by the main event unless someone truly wanted to speak with us. There were cushions on the ground and a small warming lamp in the middle making it the perfect place to have whatever game this was. We all took our seats and Azriel poured three generous glasses of wine before turning his ever watchful gaze to Hailey. 

“Since you know this game you start first.”

“Great!” she clapped her hands together, looking between us with a calculating expression. “Okay, I’ll start with you Eris; what’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever put your cock in?”

I stared at her. 

Next to her Azriel closed his eyes for a brief moment before he lifted his glass and took a long drink, only for her hand to lash out and grab him by the throat, heedless of his shadows. “No! Don’t you dare fucking swallow that! You can only drink when it’s your turn, and I asked Eris not you, so that’s against the rules!”

 Azriel looked down at her, eyebrow raised in a silent question of what to do with his mouthful of wine. I watched in rapt amusement as they glared at each other, both seemingly irritated and amused at the same time. I had never seen Azriel look so playful, so relaxed, and was pleased to see there was an actual person under his cool demeanor. 

Wordlessly Hailey leaned closer to him, her hand still locked around his throat, and opened her lips in invitation. Azriel gave a huff of amusement before leaning forward and sealing his lips to hers, the wine he was apparently not allowed to drink pouring from his lips to hers. 

My body heated a few degrees as I watched her throat work, swallowing down the wine as a small trickle escaped the corner of her mouth to slide down her cheek. Fuck if that wasn’t hot as my own fire and I desperately wished it was me pouring that wine into her mouth, or drinking it from his. Either would do. 

Once she was satisfied she got all the wine from him she released his throat and turned back to me with an expectant look. “Well?”

I cleared my throat, trying to push down the arousal filling me before Azriel could smell it, and tried to think. The answer wasn’t exactly pleasant, but I did agree to this game and I did want to ask her questions so I sighed and answered honestly. “Uhm, I suppose the weirdest thing I ever did that to was a pumpkin. My brother, Lucien, carved one to look like his girlfriend for our annual pumpkin carving contest and when he turned around to fetch a different knife I carved a hole in the mouth area and…well…”

Her eyes widened comically large as she stared at me for a moment and I was certain she was about to stand up to leave, disgusted by this. Instead a peal of laughter erupted from her mouth and she reached out to pat my knee. “That’s fucking amazing. I’m definitely bringing that up next time I see him. Okay, your turn then.”

Relieved by her reaction I relaxed slightly, trying to think of something I wanted to know about her. Well, I wanted to know everything. There wasn’t anything about her I didn’t want to know, only I had to pick one question to start. “Okay, Hailey. If you had to eat one food every day for the rest of your life what would it be?”

“Chocolate croissants,” her and Azriel both answered at the same time, which caused her to roll her eyes at him obviously sharing some inside joke. 

Making a mental note of this answer for the future I nod, waiting for her next question. She turned to Azriel, who immediately tensed at her too sweet smile, and she asked, “Are your shadows individually sentient, or are they just an extension of you?”

Ah, clever. Certain that many people wondered this as a shadow slinger was so incredibly rare and not much recorded about them in any texts, that answer was one only a shadow slinger themself could answer. Of course Azriel looked from her to me, then reached for his wine glass. Hailey scowled but did not stop him from drinking, only looking back towards me. “My turn again,” she declared. “Eris, who do you think the most handsome high lord is?”

“Helion,” I responded without thought. 

“Like mother like son,” she laughed. 

I frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

“Is that your question?” she raised a brow. 

I paused, debating that. While I did want to know what that meant I was sure I could just ask mother about it later, and I didn’t want to waste my chances to ask them both questions. It was rare to see Azriel so unguarded, let alone playful, and I needed to take advantage of that while I could. So I shook my head and looked over at him. “Azzie, what does Hailey taste like?”

Hailey’s jaw dropped open as Azriel’s nostrils flared, shadows swirling angrily around him. By the glint in his eye I knew I had overstepped and yet he didn’t reach for his glass. Instead he asked, “Which part of her?”

“Her lips.”

“Which ones?”

Hailey clapped a hand over her mouth as a snort echoed from her, and even I grinned a little. As angry as he looked Azriel was amused. If he wasn’t he would already be drinking. Swirling my own glass I shrugged. “Her mouth I suppose.”

“Like sunshine and a hint of chocolate.”

I looked over at her to see her eyes bouncing back and fourth between us, clearly surprised and yet there was a hint of interest in her look. Azriel, seeming now very interested in this game, leaned forward to ask, “Hailey, who do you think has the better hair between me and Eris?”

“Eris, obviously,” she shrugged, turning towards me to grab a strand in her hand. “I’m a sucker for a male with long hair. Eris, do you prefer giving or receiving?”

“I think there is merit in both. Hailey, if you had to pick one high lord to fuck who would it be?”

“Helion for sure. Azzie, have you ever kissed Rhys?”

“No. Eris, have you ever kissed a high lord?”

And so the questions went on, back and forth in rapid fire each of us asking silly questions about each other, Hailey throwing in casual questions about Azriel’s shadows every once in while making him taking drinks of wine as he refused to answer any about them. I watched as his eyes grew slightly glazed, clearly enjoying the very strong Autumn Berry Wine that was a specialty of our court, until Hailey finally turned to Azriel and asked, “Azriel what does Eris taste like?”

“Cinnamon and apples,” Azriel replied, his words slightly slurred. 

Then his eyes widened. 

Fuck. 

A gleeful grin spread over Hailey’s face. “I knew it!” she shouted, bouncing up and down on her cushion. “You two kissed! Did you do more? Were you guys together? For how long? Why aren’t you together now? How are-”

Her excited tones, growing louder and louder with each question, were suddenly cut off as Azriel’s shadows stuffed her mouth full. “Enough, little liar,” he hissed, true anger in his slightly drunken gaze. “You’re fucking clever, asking me questions you knew I didn’t want to answer so I would answer that one without thinking. I should’ve known you were up to something.”

Despite her mouth being full of shadows she still tried to talk around them, something I was almost certain sounded like “I’m always up to something.”

Another one of his shadows stroked down her face, causing her cheeks to heat, as he murmured, “You are very, very lucky we did not have time before we came here to discuss punishments for acting like a brat. Otherwise when we got home I’d be using this pretty little mouth of yours until I was satisfied and then sending you to bed all hot and needy.”

Fuck. Those words followed by her soft whimper and the air suddenly saturated with the sweet scent of her arousal was enough to make me instantly hard. Before I could even contemplate how to process all of this Azriel stood, pulling her to her feet with him, and said, “It’s time we returned to the party. I am sure Rhys is wondering where we have gone.”

I didn’t even have time to rise to my feet before Azriel was practically hauling her across the lawn towards the main party, taking a part of my heart along with them. 

[self-shipping-doll13]

Dead Carnations

Wc: 972

Tw: Vague descriptions of gore/dissected corpse, s/i getting choked out by Lawrence, inspired by this web weave

Where I come from, five hours of driving will take you from one end of the country to the other. Just like that. Here, it seemed like it barely made a difference at all. The Western world was vast, and I was a tiny speck in it.

My phone’s torchlight flashed white through the thicket. Only a tiny sliver of the bar was left. I had no signal. The dark boughs of old trees bowed down, their leaves green and wet with rain. Dew glistened back at me. From all around, the endless drone of the insects.

All that work to earn my driver’s licence. Many years more of proving to myself I was capable, sensible-like.

I shouldn’t have trusted that GPS tracker. Cheap thing. That capricious little blue line, chopping and changing on a whim. It swerved me into narrow, forgotten lanes, up steep and winding paths, and they all spilled into the middle of bum-fuck nowwhere. Guided by dim, narrow lamps, I’d lost all sense of direction and was soon sent careening off into the unknown. But, a little voice whispered, you trying to use a map would have been worse. The engine gave up the ghost soon after that, so neither would be of much use to me now.

No. If I was really sensible, I would’ve waited until the morning when the sun could break through the blackness and shine like a beacon down the trail.

I didn’t do that. Now, where was my car? Where was I?

There was a Compass App. Right. But to the North and South and West and East of me were all trees. I could’ve brought that up earlier, too. As I pushed through, I was careful to watch my footing. The forest floor was slick and slippery, and sticks snapped under the weight of my boots. From above, I heard the rattling of the branches, gnarled wooden fingers scraping at each other. The dense canopy overhead blocked me from the glitter of the starlight. My initial plan was to cut through here on my way to a little garage I’d driven past. I didn’t trust that isolated road. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation that led to such strange conclusions. Natural selection, more like.

An instinct far more primal than fear was spilling into me, like a leak of blood in the brain. My knees wanted to crumple and give up beneath, and so did I. But I forced myself to keep walking. What choice did I have? Desperately, I swivelled my light around and searched for some breach in the thicket, an outpour that might lead to a path. Nervous tremors made my phone’s torch quiver uneasily. People could sign papers and say they owned this land, but the land owned itself.

Then, I vaguely picked up the noise of rushing water, a tinkling like tiny bells over rocks - what a pretty sound. I felt my pulse surge with excitement. Low hanging branches whacked at my shins as I moved towards it, and the cool Summer wind was tugging impatiently at my hair, telling me to look, come and see.

I stumbled into a moonlit clearing, and there it was waiting for me.

Pearly white, arced out in long, elegant teeth. Blossoming from it in a deep red bouquet - poppies, carnations, roses. Set off by ribbons, pink and shiny. Hung from the natural arch formed by two trees, just like a tapestry. I could see the silver glint of the wire.

When I paused to take in a breath, the smell of flowers I had expected was dashed by the rotten stench of corruption, and an iron, coppery odour.

At first, I did not comprehend it. I did not want to.

There was a bucket sat beneath it. I heard the steady drip, drip, drip of liquid hitting the bottom. Tarp laid out, black-blue, tools of some description. Gleaming sharply, all in a row. Everything scented metal. Flying things buzzed clouds of dust, twirling in circles. They were making a sort of halo around its head.

I drifted closer, the grass soft, muffling my steps. I turned off the light from my phone, and watched as the red became black. Standing still, I pondered on the shape of it. Almost human; but if it ever was, then it was no longer. My heart was pulsing in my ribcage and— those were ribs, bones, twisted up, bleached white in macabre splendour. In the dark I saw.

My body felt ungainly and sluggish, like it did in nightmares; maybe this was one, yes, it had to be… Calm and panicked all at once, I staggered back into the woods, now the safest place to be, out of sight from the baleful eye of the moon. The cry of insects was ringing in my ears, the whole forest thrumming with the neverending rhythm of eat, mate, die. My breaths multiplied and became two, and then heavier footfalls reached my ears. I snapped my head around to the breaking of a twig from three long strides away.

There was a tall figure lurching towards me out from the shadows. The sound of his nervous panting was so loud I did not hear my own scream.

My back hit the rough bark of a tree. The stranger clamped his fingers around my throat, squeezing out oxygen until black bugs crawled into my vision. “No, no, no,” he was muttering, his eyes like two lights from an oncoming car about to hit a deer. “You can’t…” And I couldn’t, couldn’t breathe… Suffocating, I raked my nails along the flannel, gouging cold flesh, grasping at the hands that tightened painfully on my neck… His knuckles were wet with a slickness that I knew, with sudden and astonishing clarity, to be blood.

And then I knew no more.

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

[okthatsgreat]

Reversing it, what would your Danganronpa OCs be as DnD characters?

HEHHEHEHEHEHEEHHEHEHHEHHEHHEHEHEHEH. so fucking awesome. kicks my feet giggling

billie: starting with her is so fucking funny because she is just a npc. born to be a halfling npc with the commoner stat block. shes not even necessarily an important npc either shes mostly just somebody the dm would make should a player character ever need to ask for directions. if i were to really try to give her a story i reckon she would resent how horrible she feels as a boring commoner and TRYYY to become an adventurer but she really doesnt fit into any category LMAO

erin: GLAMOUR BARD!! pippy would fucking THRIVE in this universe where it is way more acceptable to take out her instrument and start randomly playing something. still just as annoying but you cant hate her for this... race wise i can see her as a gnome BUTTT honestly just a regular human might make more sense for her lore lmao. as a race that is notorious for having a fleeting lifespan in comparison to a lot of the other fantasy races she would be far more paranoid with keeping up her persona while also lamenting the fact she cant stay young forever

naomi: STARTS AS A SCOUT ROGUE DEFINITELY that skirmisher ability........... possibly turns into a phantom rogue later on down the line! she would be an extremellyyyy agile adventurer and definitely stock up on so many goddamn invisibility potions. either a wood half-elf or (more likely) a tabaxi for that feline agility ability, paired with bonus action dash she would FLY out of any combat she finds herself in hfjkgds. kinda like her as this more humanoid looking cat with brown and ginger spots Yknow

mika: definitely would not be an adventurer, still an npc but with a better stat block than billie!! human merchant that seems kind of jealous of you when you walk in but will give you a cool amulet if you are patient

rie: eloquence bard/pact of the archfey warlock :)) she is extremelyyy charming and able to weave her way out of so many situations with her words alone, in a way that exceeds normal bard limits. like shes definitely got multiple people suspicious about her and accusing her of dark magic already LMAO, and they arent WRONG, she definitely took a pact with an archfey, but her success is what is keeping her family afloat so she cant complain that much. i think she's an elf :) that beauty is ETERNAL baby!!!! theres no ending this torment!!!!!!

ryobe: ok its actually a bit of a toss up for me here because ryobe's stats are definitely high charisma/high intelligence, but im not super suurreeeee what that would translate to class wise....... im honestly thinking yet another bard LMFAO. possibly a glamour bard/arcane trickster rogue multiclass???? which isnt the best optimisation but. yknow GDFKGFD. i kinda like him as a satyr, gives him a reason to prioritise fun as much as he does

sae: path of tempest barbarian that THINKS shes a beast master ranger that kinda sucks at magic for soooo much of her life. the last time she went into any sort of rage was when she was a kid and even then she was in denial bc her rage manifests in this terrible storm so she just assumed it was natural and nothing to do with her LMAO. its a mix of both "that cant be my doing. surely" and "i can not be an angry person i canttttt be a barbarian" that prevents her from reaching her full potential for while, and even when she does comes to terms with the fact shes a barbarian its still badddd bc her rage is explosive as FUCKKK. she'd be one of the more physically intimidating races like a half-orc i think. maybe a firbolg but most likely half-orc

yoshito: life domain cleric of ilmater 😁 ohhhhh buddy your saviour complex is gonna SUCKKK in this universe, but he would definitely be an adventurer that tries to help out as many people as he can as a roaming cleric!! he would mostly act on his own but possibly joins a party at some point for the more dangerous quests :) im thinking he's a drow half-elf?? his mother and himself both came from a place theyre not fond of but they both found ilmater or something and now it motivates him to help others out

[faereun]

ilsa nereze was born to two ordinary humans in neverwinter, her father a blacksmith, and her mother a seamstress. growing up she'd always been a very shrewd, calculating girl—her parents oft referred to her in passing as their little ice princess. they were an obedient child nonetheless, agreeing to an arranged marriage with a nobleman from baldur's gate to ensure their parents' welfare. only, this nobleman was a vile, wretched creature. he was a slaver, which is where his riches had come from, though he'd managed to hide that from ilsa's parents. he intended on making ilsa a slave of his own—trapped in the kitchen or the bedchamber, her life never to be her own again.

yeah fucking right. ilsa is nothing if not diligent—she'd always studied well, always had an innate knack for magic too. they dig through the alcoves of the nobleman's library until they find the tome they're looking for: an ancient, leather-bound monstrosity on pact magic and rituals. the ritual she finds requires a number of frivolous things, but the most important one is this: the still-beating heart of an arrogant man. quickly she begins planning her husband's demise and her own rise to power, eager to see him claimed by the rot, her own veins surging with magic enough to protect herself. when the time comes and he is fast asleep in her bed, they arrange the binding circle and slit their husband's throat. she utters the incantation and tears his heart free from his chest, where it beats in her palm still. she completes the rite and the air surges with magic, her blood like white-hot fire in her veins. 'it is done.' an ancient, ages-old voice rumbles in her ear like the crash of a thousand waves. she shivers, and her fingertips spark with the weave. this is it. this is her freedom—she is power.

when death comes for the man lying bloody and bereft of heart on his bed, he comes in person—eager to judge the soul that had claimed so many lives. curious to see that which had ended such a life so brutally. lord kelemvor, the judge of the damned himself comes to collect the nobleman's soul, only to stop short, finding himself struck speechless by ilsa's beauty—ilsa's unfettered, rapidly growing power. their soul burns so bright he has to blink away the spots of light behind his eyelids. he sees the ring on her finger, and the corpse of the unfit fool she'd called her husband. his self-restraint wavers. i can bring him back to you, he offers, unsure of the words even as they spring forth from his lips. his death was unnatural, i can tell. it wasn't his time yet, so if you wish it so... he trails off as ilsa barks out a cruel, guttural laugh. she tugs down the sheets and reaches for something to show kelemvor—it is the fool's heart, crimson red and still beating weakly. i think you'll find i am quite pleased with this arrangement, she says with a wicked grin as she crushes the heart in her fist.

death and the girl fall in love that night. when can i see you again, they ask, to which the lord death does not answer. i should not be with you, he says instead, it will upset the balance of nature. the balance of life and death, that which i am tasked with maintaining. and with a cool kiss 'pon ilsa's brow, he vanishes, leaving her dizzy and wanting and full of emptiness. she begins chasing traces of death, trying to catch him at the scene of the crime but to no avail. they follow him to the executioner's block, to the bedsides of the sick and the elderly, only for him to slip in and out unnoticed every time. still, she persists, and one night she is greeted by a visage of death in her dreams. she thinks it to be lord kelemvor, but eventually she will realize the trick. lord myrkul had begun rising to power once again, as all gods with worshippers and believers did eventually. and so myrkul disguised as her love, the lord death, bade her this: continue to chase me. if you cannot find death, create it yourself. with every soul you have slain you can take with it their lifeline. and with those lifelines you can tie a string that will guide you to my domain, where death comes to rest, and i will welcome you by my side—as my love.

ilsa is whip-smart and unusually sharp for a human woman of her age, but she is also blinded by devotion. she falls easily into myrkul's trap, and begins her massacre of souls in order to sit proudly by her love. at first she only kills those whose death was inevitable anyways, or rather deserved. slavers like her husband, corrupt nobles, rapists and racists and all manner of their ilk. but slowly all of the blood and death and gore and viscera begins to feed something inside her, a soul of a soul wedged inside her own that begins to flicker and grow with every kill. and soon she does not care who she kills, only that she bathes in the crimson red and comes closer with every slash of her dagger and spark of her powers to her love death. for this is not just myrkul's cruel trick on ilsa and death, but mykrul's prank on bhaal. what would the lord of murder think if the new god of death took one of his children for his chosen?

soon enough, ilsa has killed plenty, and she begins her descent into her love death's domain. the damned souls which she had razed herself chase her down the endless halls and sprawling darkness until she reaches the throne room, where kelemvor is waiting for her, eyes glittering with sadness but a steely resolve. it is then that all is revealed to her—myrkul's betrayal, her own mortal folly and foolishness—and she feels her heart shatter to pieces. but surely you understand this isn't my fault, she begs, but to no avail. it is then that kelemvor reveals the final truth to ilsa—she is a child of bhaal, a divine fragment of the lord of murder's soul wedged deep within her own. slaughterkin, bhaalspawn. she is destined for darkness, for evil and malice and blood and she cannot be saved. will not be saved. kelemvor punishes her as a deathless thing—rips her death right from her soul so that she might never be free from this cycle she's fallen prey to, a cycle created by the very gods she'd fallen in love with. she's thrown out of kelemvor's realm back into the mortal plane without a shred of remorse or an inkling of pity. ilsa hardens her heart that day, and swears revenge on all the gods who'd played her for a fool.

verse notes: ilsa is the dark urge but can easily be reworked as a durge sibling due to the extensive flavoring ™ of her backstory. also, with the mindflayer parasite and their memories wiped, ilsa's personality reverts to something closer to who she was before she began chasing death. she is actively fighting the urges, and trying to be a better person than who she'd become at the hands of the gods.

[everflowingriver]

Blacklight 1: Renegade

A little something I wrote a while back. I like this one.

Renegade

The rain was harsh and cold; could he not have picked another night? It hardly mattered when his feet hit the alleyway's concrete paving, to which he caught the beat in his step again and kept running. The sirens were still blaring in his head when he dashed around corner after corner, just barely clinging to the bricks when he almost slipped and fell. The scathed and torn flesh on his hands barely caught his attention, when he heard it again; the light tapping of his pursuer. 

Scoffing, Nick sped into a tunnel, one he had used before. It would stretch towards the other end of the block, where he could hitch a ride, or so he thought. A headache tore through his mind when he remembered where he had left his car: Too far away. He cursed under his breath as he jumped into the tunnel, closing the hatch behind himself and engaging the arbitrary lock. 

Nick: "Damn it! Fuck, fuck, fuck-"

He fumbled with the phone he quickly pulled from his pocket, still jogging as he dialled his brother.

Nick: "Heyyyy, Al, would you mind?"

Alex: "Where are you? Dinner was an hour ago."

Nick: "Yeah, sorry I couldn't make it, I texted Thom-"

Alex: "Did you?"

Nick: "I didn't? Look, Al, I could really use a ride right now, quickly."

Alex: "Who are you running from?"

Nick: "You'll see when you get here.

Alex sounded a tired sigh, before audibly shrugging and loudly closing a cupboard.

Alex: "Address?"

Nick: "Raze Street- You know the spot."

Alex: "Figures. Sit tight."

Nick whispered a thank-you-made-apology, before turning his phone off, hoping that the call was not intercepted. Before long, he would make his way to the other side of the tunnel, where he turned around to face his flank- Empty. Good. His head on a swivel, he glanced over his shoulder as he backed up towards the exit. To his surprise, an electronic lock blocked the way.

"Fuck!" He hissed with fleeting breath, as he tried to make out who had placed it there; to which he frustratingly recognised the logo of ForeverTech, the largest engineering corp in town. "That is karma for you," he whispered to himself, a chuckle following when he felt the tumbling flash drive in his coat. These locks were notorious for their anti-tampering mechanisms, which had caught many an unsuspecting burglar, but Nick was not unsuspecting. Guess I'm stuck here until Al arrives, he thought to himself as he put his ear to the metal plating. 

After only a few minutes, Nick could hear the revving of an engine he recognised. A smirk slipped onto his face as he reached into his pocket, where he found a lighter. He took a deep breath, before pulling his coat's hood over his head again and triggering the lighter, before holding the yellow flame underneath the lock. After a few moments, the lock disengaged and triggered a fire alarm. The sound made Nick's ears ring as every sprinkler in the building activated as well. A grunt tumbled off Nick's lips as he climbed out through the newly opened escape hatch, which would lead him back onto the streets.

He was relieved to find his brother's motorcycle there, where Alex held out a helmet for Nick to put on. Nick wasted no time and took the headgear, before slipping it over his face and lowering the visor. Maybe he had hoped that they would have a little more time, until the siren sounded again. It was a deafening, alien noise that escaped from the vents of the peacekeeper's ribbed armour. There was no call to halt, no warning of arrest; Nick knew that if they lingered just a moment longer, they would be torn to shreds by a rifle. "Kick it!" He shouted, to which Alex wasted not another moment.

Alex hit the gas for all it had, sending the machine into a screeching galop. Alex bobbed and weaved through the late night traffic, until they were far enough out of sight to catch their breath. 

Nick: "Alex, I-"

Alex: "Check the damn bike for trackers."

Alex' commanding tone always could tear through any fabric, and Nick knew better than to fight him then, so he reared his head and started carefully checking the cycle's frame for tracking devices as they drove down the freeway.

Nick: "None on the back, but Alex-"

Alex: "I don't want to hear it. Not here. Now keep your head down, for Nòll's sake."

Nick did as he was asked and kept his gaze on his brother's back, as they drove all the way to the other side of town. Alex would not slow down one bit, until they left the freeway and pulled into the suburbs on the outskirts of Coredam. It would take no more than another minute or two for them to turn into the driveway of their childhood home, where the garage door responded to their arrival and opened up on its own. Alex carefully brought the bike to a halt and waited for Nick to get off, before doing the same. Nick removed his helmet and placed it on a workbench that stood by the wall. Alex was soon to follow, his deep blue eyes piercing the night as he sought eye contact with his brother, which Nick stubbornly denied. 

Still, he said nothing as he nudged Nick out of the garage and had the door close behind them, before opening the home's front door and heading inside. Nick was the one to close the door this time, hesitant to hang up his coat in case he was still being kicked out.  Alex had already left the hall and headed into the dining room, but Nick lingered for a moment, thinking of anything and everything he could say. After a few moments, he fixed his blond hair as much as he could and decided to hang up his coat anyway. After that, he headed after his brother, into the dining room where Alex was taking the dishes into the kitchen.

Alex stacked four dirty plates onto a clean one, before picking them up and leaving an empty table behind. Nick briefly checked the living room, yet could not see Thomas, the youngest, anywhere. He figured that Thom had simply gone to bed. Nick hesitated once more, before carefully following Alex into the kitchen, where the water was running. Alex was scrubbing the plates he had brought in just a few moments ago, glancing over his shoulder only briefly when Nick walked in. 

Alex: "You're a mess."

Nick: "You love me when I'm a mess."

Alex scoffed, shaking his head as he stacked the now clean plates. He was nothing if not efficient.

Nick: "You still love me, right?"

Alex: "You stole from a corp. Again."

Nick: "You know as well as I do that-"

Alex: "I know what's at stake, which is exactly why I can't have you keep doing this, not when you live under this roof!"

That last part was what hurt Nick. He would have left, if he could.

Nick: "That's not fair and you know it."

Alex: "What's not fair is that you keep putting Thomas in danger. We had a deal."

Nick: "I haven't forgotten."

Alex: "Then act like it!"

The silence was deafening.

Alex: "Who is it for this time?"

Nick: "The Collective."

Alex: "You are running for those rats again?"

Nick: "They are not rats."

Alex: "They will just sell the damn thing to the Militia!"

Nick: "I would bloody hope so!"

Alex: "I can't believe that you're okay with that."

Nick: "Dad would have supported me."

Alex: "Yeah, well, if you keep this up you can ask him what he thinks of it."

Nick: "I'm going to bed."

Just as Nick started to turn around and leave, Alex grasped his arm tightly and yanked him back into the kitchen.

Alex: "There's nothing you can do. Let it go."

Nick: "Oh, that's right, you would know all about letting go, wouldn't you?"

Alex only responded with a frown, to which his grip weakened. Nick slipped out of his grasp and retreated into the darkness of the hallway, before heading down the stairs and into the basement.

Alex backed up to stand against the counter, where he rested his hands in his lap as he leaned back a bit. He looked out through the kitchen window to see the burning tower in the distance, knowing what there was still to come; knowing that Nick hardly knew at all.

[voltts-memoir]

ok! so- I finished writing a small story, I don't really know if its that good (First one I've managed to fully write) Its a bit long so i put it under the keep reading section.

It was a dark night in the dreamscape, which was odd as the sky almost always sorta dark with no discernible reason why. Glass (or I guess Vess because saying that you're eating Glass doesn't sound right, still going to use Glass through the story though) was struggling to sleep out of a horribly timed string of weirdly abstract yet very direct and real feeling nightmares.

"ffffuuuucccckkkk. Why did these nightmares have to happen now... what did i do to piss off those weavers..." groaned Glass, who was staring at a screen filled with just a blank text document. The dream weavers had some time off that day because there wasn't as many dreams to weave for some reason. "Fucking lack of sleep giving me writers block." Glass saved the document and closed all the things active on its laptop, turned it off and put it up somewhere; returning to jsut laying on its bed staring at the ceiling. "You know what? I'll try it again. Maybe get one of the nightmare weavers to tone it down."

Another attempt at sleeping was made, this time being somewhat successful. Glass was dreaming (despite being in the dreamscape, for lore reasons there's dream layers.), but unfortunately it was another nightmare. "Fucking great. I was hoping for a nullspace but I guess I gotta begin unravelling this place from the ins-"

A guttural roar is heard from somewhere in the newly formed labyrinth of hallways. "Shit." Glass moaned angrily (also hating the fact that moaning has to have a specified emotion otherwise the default happens and yeah), and proceeded to stand still waiting for whatever amalgam to round a corner nearby, however this was a very bad idea as the ground began warping and the amalgam did end up rounding a corner.

Glass began to try to run, but began to fail as its legs started falling apart. "Waitwaitwait fuck no not like this!" despite being able to somehow return after death every six days, dying in nightmares really fucks with Glass' mental state however.

After what was almost 6 hours of running (both inside the nightmare and outside of it, mostly because of the stumbling caused from the deterioration on Glass' legs, its surprising how it managed to run that long.), Glass unfortunately ran into a dead end and slowly was forced into a corner.

There wasn't any path that Glass could use to escape, and with how its legs are going (at this point they're almost fully broken) there's no chance for Glass to even survive. "Well fuck. I don't think any of the nightmare weavers noticed..." Glass' voice began getting quieter and a very discordant sound of voices was coming from the creature. Glass couldn't cry, not because of a physical inability to, but because of a dissociation being caused by the voices (Glass is not good with loud sounds constantly repeating and varying by only getting louder.)

Glass curled up on the ground, visibly shaking and hoping that the amalgam would just go away. Instead, the amalgam just got closer and closer, practically suffocating Glass with its presence.

"HEY! GET AWAY FROM IT." a familiar voice rang out, not that Glass could really focus in on it. The amalgam stopped in its tracks, slightly stunned by the one who just appeared. Glass feels like its getting smaller as the standstill drags on. "Hey, I'm here now, you're gonna b-"

The amalgam growls again, leaving no chance for comfort. One second all Glass felt was the cold and hard tile floor, presumably belonging to a school hallway, and the next was warmth unlike blood. Struggling to open it's eyes, Glass looked around but only saw outlines in the dark (Glass cant technically ever close its eyes, whenever it does that all it sees is an outlined version of the place its in). It attempts to speak but can't, voice still not functional from the dissociation.

Wherever Glass is begins moving around, the ground shoving Glass upwards pressing it into a warm and wet ceiling (While yes, the outlines are useful, they don't fully reveal the place). Something wet touches its face and the room tilts up. Glass feels itself getting pulled down, everything around it pressing just close enough to make it hard for Glass to struggle. The sounds from outside wherever Glass is come back, just slightly muffled now. "Hey‽ is anyone there? why is this place so squishy... and wet... wait..." The new room was shifting around a lot now. "Oh, I guess I got eaten. Looks like there's nothing I can do now." it sighed, leaning back into the soft stomach lining, ready for the panic that would ensue when it wakes up from death in nightmares. The feeling of acid never came.

"Sorry about that. I really did not mean for you to get this nightmare."

"Huh?"

"What? surprised you're not dead?"

"y-yeah." The nightmare weaver's stomach gently squished around Glass, causing it to yawn.

"Unfortunately, I cant really wake you up from this without kinda doing that to you"

"I- uh, I already know. I was kinda going to ask you or any other nightmare weaver if they, or you, could kinda stop giving me the nightmares..." Glass feels the weaver's stomach press against it as if someone was pressing against the outside where it is.

"I hope its cozy in there for you, or at least you find it safe. You're probably already planning to stop talking to me because of how weird this is... who am I kidding, you probably hate me from this."

"First, yeah its actually cozy in here. Second, I don't hate you for this."

The weaver pauses, unsure how to react to the fact their semi-coworker just called their stomach cozy unlike everyone else they had did this exact thing to, as it was divided between people being extremely fucking weird to them about it (especially since it wasn't a lucid dream that was being woven for them) or people calling them disgusting despite it being a dream and thus had no effect in the waking world. "I'm sorry, did you just..."

"Yeah. Do you care if I stay in here for a bit?"

The weaver was now blushing a bit, very relieved that Glass is surprisingly calm about this and even asked if it could stay there for a bit longer.

"I- Uh- sure..."

"Actually, can I tell you something?"

"Sure."

"I might have been just staring at you a lot of times during weaving and kept having my thoughts wander off, they always kept going to eating you out of curiosity..." They paused when saying this, afraid of the answer.

"You could have just asked, but its fair that you didn't because of the fact you wouldn't have known my response. Also, this... this kinda just is a common occurrence sometimes."

"Oh..."

"Anyways, I'm probably going to sleep in here, its really warm."

"Ok! Have a good rest I guess?" Glass fell asleep not long after that was said, slightly kneading the weaver's stomach. They patted their now slightly more visible stomach, sometimes squishing it to show some affection to Glass as the nightmare changed, presumably by a lucid weaver, to allow the nightmare weaver to rest.

[telehead]

Flaky, flaky, flawed, and snaky.

Play the victim, lie, and bate me.

Fool me once, play your games.

Fool me twice, call me names.

Charm, charm, so you can harm

without anybody sounding alarm.

You try to hide it, yet I see it fly,

that giant red banner across the sky.

Spend, spend, I see a trend.

YOU need MY help, and so I lend.

Drinks, sluts, games and drugs;

just sweep it all under rugs!

Crack, crack, break my back.

I just might have a heart attack!

Shove my love through a shredder!

I really deserve so much better...

Burn, burn, the pages turn.

Of all you read, you cannot learn.

I wrote that book to show my love.

Now it burns, it wasn’t enough.

Threat, threat, place your bet?

Make a stranger kiss your neck?

How dare I involve your friends?

This is how our story ends.

Risk, risk. Our health you’ve risked.

It’s not okay, you must have missed!

Inside your unborn child’s mother,

AND the next day, inside another.

Fuck, fuck, you cheat and suck!

Tell your daughter “best of luck,

I went and gave up your mommy,

now this hotter new girl’s got me.”

Karma, karma, what a bitch;

the new girl left you in a ditch.

No one else would lend a hand,

so maybe now you understand.

Lie, lie, go off and cry!

You would not care if I die!

You’re only there to see the baby.

I ask for more? Nah, that’s crazy!

Busy, busy. You getting dizzy?

Ashlee, Makayla, Meghan, Jada, Lindsey.

Got all these hoes while you’re with ME.

Jessica, Anna, Jaide, Maddy, Whitney.

Bronson, Bronson whenever ya want some

just tell em all you’re chillin with Bronson.

Dumb ass hoes won’t figure shit out.

But lies ALWAYS unravel, without a doubt.

Dumb, dumb. You just gotta get numb.

On Coke, on Percs, alcohol, and bud.

To block the pain of shame and shit.

The dumb, quick way to death type habit.

Jail, jail, yet again you fail.

But every time, you tell the tale:

Denial, blame, threats & lies.

You done this shit now how many times?

21, 21, that was your age then,

that night you ruined your life and

you are not clever, you are not bright,

for what you did just wasn’t right.

Babies, babies, you must like babies

or little girls instead of grown ladies.

You told her you were 16 years old,

and now you project that lie, behold:

14, 14, that was her age then.

You KNEW she was that innocent.

No, not 16 saying she was 19.

That little girl now must be fighting...

Trauma, trauma and all this drama.

You could not comprehend her trauma.

So this must be why you lie and deny,

cause no body likes a perverted guy.

Guilt, guilt around the lies you’ve built.

Or is it shit with which you’re filled?

No wonder you can’t sleep, you’re tangled

in webs you weave in & out of every angle.

Danger, danger! That’s what you are.

Warning Sign! Hazard! Stay very far!

Our crazy past is proof that I know.

Being cool with that shit? Just... NO!

Lost, lost, look what this cost.

Out the window our family’s tossed.

If only you could turn back time,

perhaps then we’d still be fine.

Fine, fine... but COULD we be fine?

If you really could turn back time?

HA! That’s hilarious!! Flaky in check??!

Dating you’s a fucking train wreck!

Ivy, Ivy. So cute, pure, and tiny.

Yet, more loved than gold; almighty.

She makes my heart sing and glow.

But this feeling you’ll never know.

Innocent, innocent that’s what she is.

So, far away from you she’ll live.

Away from twisted lies, and deception;

whores, drugs, violence, and destruction.

Happy, happy. That’s what she’ll be;

not around danger, but safe here with me.

She’ll grow to know that she is so loved.

She don’t need your shit, we got enough.

Shame, shame. But you’re to blame.

Happy that I learned your game.

Sad you have Sociopathy,

but that, our girl will never see.

Bye bye you perverted guy.

The truth behind your nasty lie,

THAT will haunt you till you pass.

Or maybe longer... take a guess.

Flaky, flaky, flawed, and snaky?

Real shit happens fuckin with flaky.

So take a page from my mad diary:

Flakes can go fuck themselves,TRUST me.

[cloverchameleon]

Ok I am a tailor, so let's talk about this. I see a few common points being raised in response.

Even at the low prices (most) real alterations workers offer, any additional expense is unaffordable.

This is very true. To address (1.b) of "the supplies are cheap, learn to do it yourself", that's also not a universal solution - I advocate constantly for anyone who can to learn the basics of sewing, but even if I consider it a very learnable skill, that is a baseline of time, energy, and fine motor skills not everyone has. But let's be honest with ourselves, even if we do figure out how to 3D print clothing (I'll get to that), a capitalistic society isn't going to make that affordable or more custom. Maybe for a little while until it's undercut the craft clothing market, and then it'll be the same ill-fitting one-style-close-enough, prohibitively expensive situation we have now.

Additionally, depending on where you live alterations services might not be cheap or readily available. Around the 40s and 50s, off-the-rack fashion really took off with the advent of the department store and the mail-order catalog. At that time, everyone with a vagina was expected to know how to sew by their mid teens at latest, and tailoring shops were abundant for more specialty work. Heading through the 60s and 70s, the idea of the housewife and her skill set had been eroded and it was no longer a given that half the population would know how to sew, but custom fitted clothing was going out of vogue outside of couture. By the 90s, custom fitting is synonymous with luxury, people don't get clothing altered, they wear things as they came and diet culture is thriving off that, trying to sell everyone on a universal shape. So now many areas used to that model don't even have readily available tailors, supply and demand, the ones who are around can (and must) charge more.

2. It'd be better than now! It'd end clothing being made in sweatshops!

Extremely incorrect. Firstly, there is never going to be a level of automation that doesn't require humans on site to maintain and monitor the machinery. Secondly, I think those making this point misunderstand why and how sweatshops happen - it's not because it's the only way to make the product affordable or something, it's because a region has an utter lack of worker protections and a poor population (because of sociopolitical sabotage to keep it that way) so the companies that want to produce something can pay slave wages to make their stuff there and sell it in a wealthier country for a premium. Printing clothing won't make the sweatshop go away, it'll just push those people into a different kind of sweatshop.

3. The very concept of 3D printing custom-made, perfectly fitted clothing

I don't think you understand how complicated fitted clothing construction is. I understand why, but there is a reason the level of automation we have in clothing production now still requires humans hand-crafting somewhere along the line - it is some complex ass geometry to make that happen.

What you're looking at to print a fully fitted garment is firstly for a company to take a fully body scan of you to know every curvature of your body (why the fuck would you want that), and then... what material are you imagining? Do you want to wear a thin plastic sheet melted to shape? (3.b) yes, 3D printers can print material other than plastic, but the material - by virtue of how the printer works - has to be meltable. No natural fiber does that. Are you imagining a machine that weaves a continuous piece of fabric in the exact shape of your body? Not a technology we have, not a 3D printer, and what about zippers, buttons, snaps - any way to get it on and off? We have yet to create a machine that can piece together a three dimensional work of fiber craft, that's why we still have textiles workers.

I'm also a sci-fi fan, I love the idea of the Star Trek replicator - of sucking the very building blocks of reality out of thin air and materializing it into whatever we want in the exact shape, color, texture, temperature, etc we want it in. That sounds dope as fuck. That is science fiction. 3D printers are not replicators by a miracle mile. Fully 3D printing clothing is, for so many reasons, a tech bro wet dream and nothing more. It's an unachievable solution to the wrong problem.

"3D printing clothes so they can be custom made to fit you" TAILORS THEYRE FUCKING CALLED TAILORS AND THEY DON'T NEED TO WORK WITH MELTED PLASTIC

[mxstball]

[Scorching Sandgems] Morrigan

After Sapphire successfully caught Pally, there was a large amount of commotion from everyone. They were all surprised at her luck 

In the midst of the chaos, something just didn't add up to Heidi. How could Sapphire have easily handled Palkia if it was stalking her this whole time? Why did everything here seem so… easy?

…and why does it seem that everything is getting brighter?

…

…wait-- Heidi looked up and immediately understood.

"JUDGMENT! EVERYONE, GET DOWN!"

Before long, bolts of light started raining from the skies. Akari sent out her Origin Ball for the Pokémon to protect her.

Akari sent out Palkia!

Palkia reached out and protected Akari, Mars, and Morgan.

Meanwhile, Chrona protected herself while Melony grabbed Lati's hand and disappeared. That left Heidi to run after Sapphire. She weaved through the falling blasts to get to Sapphire. As for Sapphire, she was crouching down, hoping not to get hurt while Staraptor spread her wings to protect her trainer. Sapphire looked up, but was horrified as she was watching one bolt get closer and closer to reaching her.

She was done for.

"Sapphire, look out!" Heidi dove to reach them… but she would not reach there in time. The bolt landed on its target, creating a blast that knocked the dragon back and smoke to cover the area. Heidi blocked any incoming shots coming her way and watched helplessly as the smoke began to clear…

…revealing Jeanne and Lauren, both protecting Sapphire and Staraptor from any damage.

Lauren let go of her end once she ensured that it was safe. She turned to Heidi and flew after her. [Are you okay, sis?]

"Yeah…." Heidi brushed herself off. "Looks like you guys showed up at just the right time."

Sapphire slowly rose upon realizing everything was alright. She and Staraptor looked up at the Arceus defending them, who looked down at them in turn.

"You alright, Sapphire?"

"A little shaken -- no, a lot shaken -- but Staraptor and I will be okay. Thanks."

Melony and Daiyu reappeared without Lati, and Chrona rejoined the group, but while two of them were looking up at the threat, one of them was distracted by something else. 

"Woah, a fucking Palkia!"

Heidi turned to Daiyu and raised a brow, slowly turning to the place Daiyu was lookin at. "Huh? We just dealt with Pall-- woah that's another Palkia!"

Palkia let out a roar, and Akari ran in front of the group. She was now wearing something completely different. "Don't think about my partner right now! Look up! Who the hell is that?"

Heidi, Lauren, Daiyu, Sapphire, Jeanne, and the others all looked up to see their assailant. For most of them, this was their first time seeing this creature -- as, even despite the attack, the individual showed no sense of emotion -- not fury, glee, or a single ounce of surprise. Instead, what they saw was someone who could not be read, even as she descended and even as Sapphire and Jeanne rejoined the group and stood alongside Heidi and Lauren.

But for others, this individual was far too familiar. For many of them, they've spent so much of their lives under her wing… at her mercy and at her whim. She was their guide at some point, but has grown to become their bane… and it was Lauren that cried out her name after transforming.

"MORRIGAN!"

Morrigan finally made her touch down on the other end of Spear Pillar. Surveying the area, she huffed. "Well, it seems that you all still stand after that attack. Good. I would have been more disappointed than I already am otherwise."

Heidi scoffed. "Oh, cut the fucking flattery, Morrigan. It was you that sent Pally--"

"--Andromeda." Sapphire interrupted.

"...Andromeda?" 

"That's its name now."

"Ah. Alright." Heidi turned back to Morrigan. "It was you that sent Andromeda after us, wasn't it? You thought that you could just send it here to kill me and my sister so that you could rid yourself of any link to Lati, wouldn't you?"

Lauren flinched for a moment. "Wait, huh? Our Palkia's here? The hell happened while I was gone?"

"Long story, Lauren." Heidi nudged her big sister but kept her eyes squarely at Morrigan.

Morrigan scoffed. "I knew Pally--"

"--Andromeda!" Sapphire sneered.

Morrigan glared. "--I will continue to use the name it died with. After all, any creature that is too weak to prevent themselves from being captured by the dead is dead to me, in turn."

Heidi shook her head. "The only dead man walking here is you, Morrigan. You were never welcome here."

Morrigan looked at Heidi and smirked. "Oh? Speaking of the dead, it seems that the little Strangeling seems to have forgotten her place just because she found a little refuge and strength. It seems that insignificant speck that you call your predecessor seemed to have forgotten to teach you the right manners before she got up and croaked."

Lauren was about to respond, but a wave of emotion nearly paralyzed her. Not only that, before any of them could react, Heidi almost instantly pulled out her move gun and transformed.

"If you wish to die so badly, then we will leave no trace of the one that murdered our brother--"

"Heidi, no!" Lauren grabbed Heidi. Melony forced a shadow to pull her partially inside the Distortion World at her feet. Jeanne and Sapphire each grabbed her to hold her back. None of them were sure if this could stop Heidi at this point, but they tried nonetheless.

Heidi struggled to get the group off of her. Even though she had the destructive power to blast through each of them and attack, it would likely cause enough destruction that it would injure her family. As such, the struggle continued.

"Let us… GO!"

No one budged. Instead, they all kept their grip on her. They knew that even the slightest slip-up would give the dragon an opening to attack 

Seeing this sorry sight, Morrigan scoffed. "Look at you. You are bound by these petulant failures that your one chance to get the vengeance that you so helplessly crave. That is why you're nothing but a fake -- a poser that desecrates my kind's power to hide a fragile, sickly little girl! I should have sent you back to the rotten world that you came from, so that Friede would have disposed of you when the time came."

"Little sis! Don't listen to her. You were just sick back then. Don't let her take you down to her level."

"Yeah!" Jeanne was struggling on her side. What did Leah feed this woman? "You'll fucking kill her at this rate. We don't need that right now."

Morrigan looked between the entities that held Heidi back, but also at the encroaching Akari and Palkia. She won't have that. Morrigan shoved her hand forward, sending the two flying back in a large blast of wind. "The adults in the room are talking. Don't you interfere."

Heidi started to calm down and downgraded her form to her Older form. She doesn't need to be an Arceus for this. As she switched forms and started calming down, everyone let go, but Sapphire still got in front of Heidi.

"Why can't you leave Mom and the rest of us alone, Arceus? We're no longer your problem and just want to live our lives. You've already taken so much from us -- our world, our friends, our family -- why can't you just leave us be!?"

Morrigan squinted at the human that dared to stand in front of her. A part of her was tempted to end this child's life here and now -- deal a death swift enough for the child to not process it…. However, upon feeling the temptation, she sensed Jeanne's presence. If she were to, Jeanne would likely be fast enough to counter her. So, the child lives for now.

"I will not be lectured by some human on what I should and should not meddle with, especially one who found a way to cheat death! Your very continued existence is an affront on its own--" She then turned to Daiyu. "And I bet that it has something to do with you, doesn't it?"

"Hmph." Daiyu scoffed at Morrigan. "Wouldn't you like to know, murderer?"

"Oh, I'll find out eventually… once these sorry Latias are through, I'll make sure to leave you alive long enough to find anyone else you hid from me and kill them in front of you…. Then, I'll ensure you have one final death."

"Good luck with that. I don't think that you'll even reach the first step."

"We'll see about that-- but first…." Morrigan turned to Lauren. "Lauren… my little darling. You have disappointed me so."

"Don't you sweet talk me, Morrigan. I'll never forgive you for what you did to my brother."

"Your brother was a fool for waging a war against me. The humans could have perished without much of a peep, but he chose to align himself and his allies with an ideal with zero chance of victory… but even still, he was brave… braver than most."

"Braver than you'll ever be, choosing your own life over your ideals."

"Oh? No, I believe you're mistaken, Lauren. I never cared for those puny humans. I only allowed them around because I didn't have a reason to rid myself of them at the time. Friede just happened to grant me a compelling argument… and a goal to follow, of course."

Lauren scoffed. She sensed that there was more to it than that, but any more and she'll likely want to puke.

"But enough about that. I have a… gift for all of you."

Jeanne sneered. "Oh, sure you do. Just degrade all of us, oppose us, sick Andromeda on us, and then just spoil us rotten while you're at it."

Heidi was unamused. "...can I kill her yet?"

"No, My Lady." Melony shook her head. "Now is not the time."

Heidi rolled her eyes. "Alright, fine. Then what is this gift, Morrigan?"

Morrigan smirked again. From Daiyu's view, however, she could sense something was wrong, especially after Morrigan glanced at her. What was this creature planning, and what does she have to do with this.

"I know how oh, so much about how war and death can cause the grief and mourning of your fallen loved ones… how you wish to see their final moment… relive your lost regrets… harm yourselves over factors that you could not control…. As such, I know how much you all missed our departed Latios--"

Lauren and Heidi were immediately on their guard. "This has better be his Soul Dew if you're talking like this--"

"Oh, no. No no no." Morrigan chuckled. "I have something much better. How about a reunion~?"

The group were all confused. They started talking amongst themselves. What was she talking about? A reunion? But Lati surely died during the war. She was the one to kill him and send the evidence. Was this some type of trick? Some type of joke? However, while the group was conversing with themselves and while Morrigan waited for their response, it seems that it was Daiyu tat picked up what she meant first.

"!!!"

Daiyu quickly turned to Melony and pulled her a little. "Mel, I need you to get Sapphire and the other humans out of here. Please…."

"Huh? Is there something happening?"

"Please… just… trust me on this. Get them out of here and don't let them out of your sight until we're done. Trust me."

Heidi turned to Daiyu. "Everything alright?"

"We need to get the humans out. Now."

Morrigan simply stood and watched as Melony obliged and forcibly grabbed Sapphire and disappeared. Melony would repeat this process with the remaining humans, but Morrigan wouldn't need to see all of that. Instead, Morrigan smiled at Daiyu. "You catch on quick. And here I thought you were stupid. Now, allow me~" Morrigan raised her arm and called out.

"Ohhhhh, Latiiiiii~ Your sisters wish to see youuuuu~"

Within moments, a strange energy began to seep out of Morrigan and onto the ground, collecting into a single pool. Once the energy stopped pouring, the pool started to form… something…. It wasn't clear at first, but a pair of legs were being built, followed by a torso and arms… and finally a head. A bright light started to shine through, nearly blinding everyone; however, once it was done, the picture couldn't be clearer. That was--

"Lati!"

"Big bro!"

"Big brother!"