#in PUBLIC. fucking HORRIBLE

[fingertipsmp3]

The amount of people who seem to enjoy spending time with a lot of people for a long period of time baffles the shit out of me man

[moonscape]

[wimbledonstrawberry]

domi

[myheartisworstkindofweapon]

Hiiiii guysssss <33

[vyvansecrashing]

can russia and north korea just nuke us already this is hopeless

[jrueships]

https://twitter.com/danfetes/status/1712166167572361344

josh says people saying stuff about stef ticks him off 😭 that's the meanest he'll ever get off the field 😭

that was kinda... 😏😏😏

and i definitely know stef feels the same... 😏

" tired of hearing all this nonsense... lot of guys in this league that have that same fire that don't get talked about, but--"

" frankly that kind of ticks me off when people wanna say stuff about him, but... we'll keep that all internal here 🙂🙃🫥."

this is allen at his boiling point omg 😭😭 held back by pr

[not-too-many-eyes]

Mutuals lets destroy the concept of purity culture together <3

[only-man-in-the-sky]

anyway. I've genuinely never done anything to deserve harassment. if you're attacking me for source, you're fucking stupid. if you're attacking me for my disorders, you're ableist. if you're attacking me because I insulted your weird little tcc cult, you're a fucking moron. and if you're attacking me for setting boundaries around certain shit, then you're probably just mad that I hate the stupid shit you stand for. I am not the bad person in this situation. die mad about it

[bright-and-burning]

those web weaves abt daughters w their fathers’ tempers are so fr bc why did i just get so mad i gave myself a headache

[total-karma]

Reading aleheather fics and killing myself because Nobody gets them like i do

[lesbianwyllravengard]

I'm actually so sick and fucking tired of people who think covid is comparable to the flu. Just bc you or a family member got it and didn't die doesn't mean it's not super fucking serious and life threatening, ESPECIALLY for disabled people/people with health issues/autoimmune disorders. Every time my father sees me wearing a mask he rants about how covid is just like the flu and that everyone is over reacting and [insert shitty conspiracy theory here] and it makes me so upset every goddamn time. I got covid half a year ago, despite doing everything right, thanks to my parents' stupidity. I was sick for 13 days, entirely bedridden and feverish for 9 of those days. I physically couldn't get out of bed, not even to piss, the entire first day my mother had to half carry me everywhere. Same thing the second day, when she dragged me to the doctor where I tested positive. The first five days, I couldn't even look at an electronic device and had to keep the lights off all the time bc I'd actually vomit. I had a migraine that didn't go away no matter what medicine I took, for the entire the first week. My nose was constantly stuffy and my sinuses were so backed up I couldn't breathe through my nose, which made breathing in general so difficult and painful bc my asthma was also exacerbated. So my chest hurt too. All my normal chronic pain was magnified tenfold. I had a 103 fever for three days in a row, then it fluctuated between 98-100 the rest of the time. Thinking about it right now I still remember the pain and how it felt. I've had strep throat, a lot as a kid. I've had chicken pox, and the flu several times, because my parents never fucking vaccinated us. I have never been more sick in my goddamn life than I was with covid. And this is just me. Yes I'm disabled and yes I'm still being tested for possible autoimmune disorders (my mom and her whole side of the family have them) but even still I'm not nearly as at risk as a lot of people, and I was still more affected than anyone in my entire family, who have all also gotten covid because of their own stupidity. My taste and smell were never affected, but I'm still losing hair from it, which is apparently also a symptom I never knew about.

Wear. Your fucking. Masks. Covid is still around, it's still super fucking serious, it is NOT just like the flu, and you had fucking better take it seriously. Even if you don't care about getting it yourself, at least show some goddamn consideration for others whose health and lives are at risk.

[crimeronan]

there's an amity POV thing i wanna write for the princess luz AU, but it's truly plotless n largely just involves her being a spectator to one event that has already happened within the AU canon. which is fine i guess, i can do whatever i want and all that

but. i must admit. that 98% of the reason that i want to write this is.... just for amity watching hunter and luz be How They Are. & having a very long moment where she's genuinely and not-unkindly like. okay. Wow. you two really truly honest to god are complete freaks. god bless, love and light, diplomatic phrasing and all that, but jesus FUCKING CHRI-

[prisonpodcast]

some ccs are just straight up nuts there’s no other explanation

[duskneko]

the ASS fandom makes too much cutesy stuff i need to see stuff that shows the fucked up aspects of these characters like Lynn and/or Niel absolutely willing to fucking sell Nick to an animal collector

[king-spite]

.

[thelongestway]

FFXIV Write 2024, Prompt #25: Perpetuity

By all accounts, the End of The Universe should have been a place where I'd want to spend the rest of eternity. Somewhere one could watch dynamis interact with aether; a living laboratory; a place of solitude.

It was everything I should have wanted.

I hated it.

The place felt surreal, and not in an interesting way. It was like the proximity to the Meteia's nest flattened reality into caricature. Normally, death turned beings into things, but it did not remove their histories, all of the marks time left on them even as Althyk-

(Chronos, my Echo hissed at me, Qo'nos - huge ships in the emptiness of space, reminiscent of raptorial birds, battling demons of air and darkness atop bone white thrones; I was at the helm of one such ship, and-)

...even as Althyk devoured their carcasses until there was nothing left. Until that final moment, everything about their lives remained written on their remains.

But here the dead worlds seemed torn out of the passage of time. Everything except the Meteia (and perhaps Jammingway, and to a lesser extent the Omicrons) felt flat, their history stripped away, leaving less than a sliver of bone. The dragons hung on by a claw; the Karellians had factions, but not names; the Ea, not even that....

The Meteia were real, though, and even with their fury broken, there were still a great many black birds roosting in the cracked egg. Perhaps that was what created the dizzying flatness I felt.

Von Neumann drones, an Echo supplied. Starships are not supposed to have daddy issues.

"Yes, Hermes was a fool to send them into space, but otherwise I have no idea what you are talking about," I answered aloud tiredly, as if my voice could chase away the vision.

The Meteia remnants were unnerving enough, but that was not the worst of it. My Echo was far stronger here. Encountering neither resistance from the surroundings nor something concrete to latch on to, it kept running in the background, rising and falling at the slightest provocation, and bringing me more and more strange flashes, visions that I'd guessed did not come from Etheyris, but from the dead worlds. More than that. It kept bringing me places. I'd blink and be halfway across the damn-

Demiplane.

Shut up!

And yet there I was. Standing in a field of elpis flowers, and staring at the cracked egg and the remnant shadows roosting within, and listening to someone's serene anger. Not flashes, not images, not stolen moments of someone else's life. It was almost like they were talking to me, even if it felt nothing like the musical communication with the Ancients. A surprisingly mundane voice that spoke in measured tones of quiet rage.

To create a young Society, only to throw it directly into Shar's maw... How unthinkingly cruel, this Hermes. We would make him understand the full scope of what he has done.

That name. I remembered that name from the battle with the Endsinger. A manifestation of the same force, that someone else had stood against, somewhere else.

Was this actually one of those someones?

"If you're talking to me, I'll need you to introduce yourself," I said aloud.

Echo, the voice replied with a tinge of humor.

"How self-aware," I growled, feeling a headache coming on. This place was playing tricks on me, and now I was talking to visions like an utter-

Ah. Echo is what I am called, the voice said. But to you, it means something else, I see. My apologies. I did not mean to confuse. I saw you - heard your thoughts on their fate - reacted - you heard me. And now we are talking.

"Thal's balls," I said slowly. "You really are talking to me. Who are you?"

Someone presently traversing another end of the Shadowfell and dangerously distracted by one of its visions, the voice gave a low chuckle, and I saw my own body, standing in front of the cocoon, looking frazzled and confused. I felt a sudden stab of fondness - aimed at myself?

But before I could process it, the shadows of the Meteia roiled inside their cocoon, and the feeling changed. For them, my collocutor felt intense pity, and anger on their behalf.

I do not know if what I am seeing here even really exists, they said, carefully. I do not know if I am speaking to a shadow.

"That makes two of us."

I see. But if one shadow is willing to lend a hand to another - then may I impose on you? I would help them, but I do not think I can affect the place you are in beyond our conversation. I'd ask you to be my hands.

"Help them how?"

They are a Society. I am like they are. I am an Echo of the Cosmic Echoes. They are?..

"...Meteia, singular Meteion? Is that what you mean?"

Yes. I have seen other Societies perish to spreading shock, when too many of their number met with overwhelming cruelty and the pain of their fate crushed the rest. But never have I seen one barely nascent dealt such a cruel hand, turned into a tool of the same despair which engenders its suffering. Still, this evil fate presents a road to their salvation. This Hermes... What did he charge the Society with?

"Uh..."

To seek out new life and new civilizations, another Echo voice supplied.

"That wasn't me, but did you hear that? Seek out new life?"

Yes, my collocutor answered.

"It's a decent enough summary. Hermes was in invisible pain. He wanted to know if someone - anyone - had found a better, less cruel life. He wanted to see how different the world could be, that there were multitudes and hopes yet undiscovered. For this, he made the Meteia, to survive the emptiness between worlds and find his answer. And then they flew, and found only the dead and dying."

A seed of despair carefully sown and nurtured, my collocutor said thoughtfully. But the universe is not like that, not truly. There are worlds out there, as many as they are wonderful and terrible. The Meteia should have found far more than just despair. But they were led along a path prepared for them. I would take them from that path, give them a beacon and guide them to living worlds. Our worlds.

Can a hive mind be stupid?!

Occasionally, they said, chuckling. But what exactly is the problem you foresee?

"Forgot you could hear me. Respectfully, Echo of the Cosmic Echoes, but the Meteia in their current state have already decimated worlds. You would just bring them more fodder for their despair."

No. They would have Us.

A sharp vision blossomed in my mind. People, linked into a vast network. Across worlds - shards - planets - neon lights; glowing plants; steel and sky; cave and fungus. Hundreds of minds, old and young, experienced, new, chattering, concentrating, shifting, changing; I felt like I was falling in, drowning, parting from my body, seeing my own face-

It was gone.

First contact can be a touch overwhelming, my singular Echo smiled. But rest assured we know how to handle our own children. And they are well equipped for the journey.

"You can talk across shards," I breathed. "Are you fae?"

The voice laughed, amused.

If I had a coin for each time I was confused for a fae, an odd gap, as if they were counting, I would have two coins. No. I am a mortal like yourself. From a world called Toril originally, if you are wondering.

Somehow it was the name that convinced me. It had a weight to it; the same weight of reality that the Meteia's despair stripped away. There really was something beyond the edge of the universe. It was real.

And if it was real, it was worth seeing.

"If I help you. Can you teach me? I would need the capability to talk like that. For a project."

If I live, they answered, suddenly serious. For that is not a certainty right now. If I live, I will find you and I will teach you.

"Good enough. Find me on Etheyris," a silent feeling of consent; a promise. "What do you need me to do?"

An image flashed in my mind, a vision that was only readable to me in part. Coordinates, somehow written in dynamis, woven with a skill far surpassing my own.

Show them this.

I walked to the egg and the shadow birds perked up in cautious fear at my approach. Stopping at a respectable distance, I exteneded a hand and called - not aether, dynamis.

Connection.

My collocutor's voice sounded across Ultima Thule, a breath of Reality in this hollow place. The Echoes spoke, and as the Meteia, they spoke in Dynamis.

"Greetings, Meteia. Can you hear us?" Black heads, raised in unison. Staring - not at me, at the beacon. "Do not be alarmed. We mean you no harm." Wings stirring, feathers rustling. "We would touch minds. Share feelings. Mingle thoughts."

The birds stilled for a long moment. Then - a single surprised caw. Then - a flood of shocked, disbelieving caws.

When they quieted again, the Echoes continued:

"We would know what you would share. Pain and pleasure. Good and evil. All experience is of value. We would share what you would know. All existence is of value."

The stillness of Ultima Thule was no longer oppressive. It was pregnant. The egg before me had cracked, but only now did the shell really begin to fall away.

"We would meet you as friends and equals. Would you meet us?"

The birds - not all of them, no, but certainly over half their number - took to the air; roiled around the beacon, around me, and I felt them - felt their curiosity - the impulse that Hermes originally sent them out with - black feathers taking on the hues of dead stars, coming from midnight into twilight.

The beacon glowed with an octarine light. The birds cawed and roiled, and suddenly they jumped - and they were gone.

Thank you, my collocutor breathed, relieved. They are on their way. Thank you.

I breathed, too, and felt like the air somehow grew fresher. This place was no longer the End of The Universe, a futile perpetuity.

It was simply an edge. A point of contact with other living worlds. A place like any other. Some dark birds roosted still, but they were now simply residents. Jammingway needed to start stocking birdseed.

Oh, how good it was.

And thank you, Echo, I answered. But I do expect that lesson! So you'd best make it out alive, wherever you're walking.

We'll be in touch, my singular Echo said, amused. Walk well, traveller. Until then.

"Until then."