#smog writes

[cr0g-0]

Long awaited! Arcadia Act 1 is finally out! Clocking in at 3477 words is finally complete! I am so so happy that people have supported me through out this writing process-this will be a very world buildy fic so I hope you enjoy each part I write!

No trigger warnings for this one! Please enjoy!

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Arcadia Act 1: Press Play

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It was a warm and calm summer day. The air was humid and the sky was a bright blue and the cicadas hummed and buzzed.

Wilbur stared out the window, looking at the telephone pole while he waited for the light to turn green again so he could get home.

He had been doing some shopping and he just wanted to go home after being out and about since five thirty in the morning.

He squinted his eyes, humming in thought as he read the sign aloud to himself.

“Yard…sale…closes twelve fifteen…” he glanced at the clock in his dash before shrugging as he changed his turn signal to the right. He’d swing by, take a few pictures and maybe buy something.

Though he did have to hurry he had a little over twenty minutes before the yard sale allegedly closed.

He looked up at the light and put his foot back on the gas, looking carefully for the address of the house and smiling a little. It was obvious which house it was and thankfully he was able to park.

He unbuckled his seatbelt and hopped out of his car, heading over to the yard sale.

The old man at the sale gave him a polite smile before going back to most likely reading the paper or looking for coupons in the newspaper.

Wilbur paid no mind though as he searched for video games and other childish shit. His friend Fundy said he wanted a cool game to try and code and who was he to not try and provide?

He hummed, picking up boxes as he went through each paper, file and folder. Each time he finished a box he checked his watch.

12:09…

He cursed quietly under his breath. “Damn Fundy’s gonna be dissapointed…”

“Need any help mate?” Wilbur jumped a little and turned around to see the old man running the sale.

Wilbur gave him a sheepish grin and nodded. “Uh-Y-eah-“ he cleared his throat and tried to make himself look a little less awkward than he felt.

“Do you have any video games?”

The man laughed and slapped a hand on his shoulder that he immediately tried to shrug off as the man led him over to the makeshift register he had.

“I’m given’ those away with everything bought! If you just want a video game I’d be delighted to let you look through the bin!”

Wilbur’s eyes widened and his mouth went ajar only for him to close it and nod quickly. “I-I’ll uh-give it a look thanks-“

The man smiled although…something felt off to Wilbur about it…he was sure it was just his imagination though.

He wasted no time rifling through title after title of popular games until he stumbled across to games he’d never heard of.

Arcadia and The Bird and His Chicks.

The second one sounded too childish but the other one sounded perfect. It was interesting and cool. He got up and walked over to the man. “I found one uh-can I just-“

The old man shook his head and Wilbur opened his mouth to speak again but he was cut off. “It’s free! Why don’t you take the other games as well.”

Before he could say anything the man was gone.

Huh. Not that he’d expect any less weird a service from a yard sale though. At least he was getting a free game-maybe two if Fundy took pity on him and gave him the game he coded.

He headed over to the game box and grabbed the second, more childish game. He’d give it to Fundy and see if he could make it interesting and worth playing.

With all that settled he headed to his car and unlocked it before starting up the car. One glance at the yard sale sent a chill up his spine however.

The guy in charge of the yard sale was just standing there waving. As if they were both close friends. It felt uncomfortable and he was about ready to speed away.

Of course he didn’t though-he just tried to act normal till he reached the main roads. He wouldn’t speed in a suburban area where there may be kids after all.

He just grit his teeth and bared it as he drove out onto the main street and put into his gps his address. Taking out his phone while he waited for the light to change.

He dialed up Fundy and put it on speaker before going back to driving. “Hey Fundy I got you some creepy games I’ve never heard of!”

“Really? What does that mean?” Fundy asked.

“You’ll find out when you swing by to pick up one of the games. I’m playing one though, ok?”

The coder on the other end huffed. “Really? Why can’t I have both and then give you the games!”

“Cause I bought them and because I said so.” Wilbur laughed and turned onto his street. “Now come over in…an hour? Hour thirty at the latest.”

A few key clicks on the other end told Wilbur he was just trying to write down in his calendar the time frame he should head over in. The ginger often did that when Wilbur didn’t give him an exact time.

“Alright, got it! See you soon.” Fundy hung up and Wilbur pulled into his driveway with a smile. He unbuckled his seat belt and grabbed the games.

Unlocking the door, he headed over to the trunk and popped it, tossing the games in one of the grocery bags before unloading them.

Slowly but surely he brought all the bags in and began to unload them, shoving cans into his cabinets and putting anything that would go bad if left out in the fridge before he pulled his games out.

Well he had options. Play the game before Fundy came over so he knew which one he wanted to keep or he could wait for him….

He hummed as he kept putting away his groceries into the cabinets and then into his fridge.

Should he eat now or wait? He could wait. He wouldn’t mind making some lunch if Fundy was hungry and besides-it’d give him a reason to neaten the house up.

With that thought in mind he began to go around the house and open the blinds and windows up a crack. The summer breeze felt nice and he took a deep breath in. The house felt lighter and it certainly felt less cold.

Less lonely.

He smiled and flicked on the fan to keep airing the room out before he headed back into his kitchen and grabbed the two games.

They were certainly old and they felt dusty…but that wasn’t what felt off. He couldn’t pinpoint it but they felt cold in a wrong way.

He ran a thumb over the scratchy case with the tape label on it and hummed. He glanced at the more childish one.

It was bright and it looked more official. More workable for Fundy who by all means was going to make the game into…well it’d be more of an interesting game. He set the disc case down and hurried to grab a piece of paper.

Rifling through his messy drawers for a pen, he grabbed the first one he found and scribbled on the paper to test it before starting to write it out.

‘I’m upstairs. This games your’s. I wanna try the cool one out first though. -Wilbur p.s-Make this game cool seems a bit childish for me-make it intriguing’

He put the pen down and grabbed some masking tape before attaching the note to the case as he headed towards the stairs.

Fundy didn’t know his garage code so he’d be going in through the front door with his spare key. He made sure the game was somewhere visible before he dashed up the stairs.

He went to his office before turning the door knob and heading inside, closing it behind him with a soft click as he headed to his desk and pulled out his chair. He took the game out of the case and brought it to his open window, blowing off the layer of dust coating it.

God, every part of these games was ancient-from the casing to the game itself, it was coated in so much dust you’d think it’d be millennia old…

Yet it was, from what the small date inscribed on the disc said, only fifteen or so years old.

He headed to his desk and sat down, pulling the faux leather chair up to the desk before he bent down and put the disc in the reader.

After that he powered up his computer, the tell tale buzz it made had seemed like a problem years ago but, since it hadn’t exploded or anything, he kept it and now it was routine to hear it when he booted up the monitor.

He pulled his mouse pad out and set the mouse on it, grabbing his keyboard so it was closer to him as he typed in his password.

Once he was logged in, he went to the discs icon on the desktop and clicked it a few times before a pop up opened.

‘Are you sure you want to open this game? :)’

He raised a brow and paused, glancing over at his door. Maybe he should wait till Fundy got here to ask about this. It didn’t make sense. Usually when he bought an old game it gave him a normal file open question-

Never had his computer asked about opening specifically a game and he had especially never put a goddamn emoticon smiley-

Still. He was just a bit curious. So against better logic and reasoning, he clicked on the ‘run file’ button and waited for it to load up, tapping his foot before crossing it across his other leg as he waited.

He knew the game was old but prime-was it supposed to take this long? He didn’t think it should be-other games he had bought second hand loaded up comparatively faster than this.

He leaned in, the screen beginning to dully flicker back to a color and he blinked a few times. Huh.

He was met with a barely palatable red screen that faded into a cartoonish battle field with a castle in the background, an imposing, maniacal figure loomed behind it, just an evil look was visble from the shadow.

In the front was a man with a dark, billowing cloak. ‘He was totally the hero-‘ he smiled to himself a bit. He couldn’t see the color of the hair, covered by a green hat.

Honestly the guy looked like a tropical bird in a way. The bright, saturated green went well with the pitch black cloak. They seemed to glimmer like a shining sky.

He found himself entranced by the whole scene before him. The game must be well designed-hell- he was sure it had some better art than most games he played lately.

He clicked the cartoonish start button and was brought to a character screen.

And the best part was that the art was still gorgeous. He found himself unable to take his eyes off the character art. The one that grabbed his attention was the picture for the leader trait. Obviously the art was meant to be as blank a canvas as possible for the player.

But it still drew him in as he stared at it. The cape was only to one side and covered half the shoulder but the pose was confident and the shirt was almost all white aside glittering gold speckled near the hem.

It was like the opposite of a night sky. Like if the blue sky held glittering golden stars and the night held nothing but inky black.

The rest of the options were ever so slightly grayed out-and that was a little weird-he would admit it was odd that all the traits were seemingly locked but he shrugged it off-

Maybe it was just some game file glitch. He’d get Fundy to look at it for him later.

He clicked on the icon for the trait he wanted and clicked the yes button when it asked to confirm.

The screen blacked out and all that was left was a faint glow. Wilbur frowned. He really hoped that it wasn’t broken-

He brought a hand up to the screen and pressed his palm against it. He jumped away, falling to the floor once he saw how it practically absorbed his hand.

“What the fuuuuuuuuuck..”

He slowly pushed himself off the ground and back up to his desk, looking at the screen in wonder before putting his hand through the screen again. It was…strange feeling but cool.

He moved his second hand to the screen cautiously before pushing them both through, his arms all the way in his computer.

This was some insane shit. He pushed in a little more before letting out a yelp as he was pulled through the screen by-by something he couldn’t even see.

He shut his eyes tight until he landed with a thud and he groaned, a bright light most likely above him. Maybe he just died. That would suck but he wouldn’t rule that out.

He began to peek open his eyes before he saw a crystal blue sky above him, large green leaves and trees soaring high above him.

His eyes fully opened as he stared in amazement at the stunning, lush world around him.

He pushed up off the ground and looked around him, trying to find where his computer was.

To no avail.

Great.

Just great he was jumanjied into a fucking video game-could it get any worse?

Loud booming thuds shook the earth around and he already felt the dread pooling in his chest. He should have waited till Fundy had shown up…

The sounds grew louder as birds began to quiet and leaves started to fall from their branches as Wilbur got onto his feet and made a slow creep towards the treeline.

Once he had hidden about three trees away from the clearing he had been in he waited patiently for…whatever that was to come through. He expected machinery with how hellishly loud it was.

He was proved wrong when he saw a giant boot and a loud, booming voice. “God damn it we lost it!”

“But-But I saw it here sir! It wasn’t moving at all!”

There was a loud growl heard and Wilbur began to back away from the scene.

He had to find a way out of here that-that was not normal-none of this was normal-

He jolted and let out half a scream before his mouth was covered and the rest of his body was dragged back.

He tried to shout out for help, his voice muffled while he grappled at the hand over his mouth.

His assailant stopped before shushing him as he was dragged further and further away from where he started. Into an unfamiliar world full of giants. Great.

The rest of the way to wherever was silent, the only sound was the dragging and occasional noises and struggles from Wilbur.

Abruptly, he was dropped to the ground and he groaned out in pain, rubbing the back of his head as he looked up.

The first thing he noticed about his attacker was the fact that he looked young.

The second was that he looked like he was fighting using guerilla warfare.

He wasn’t sure what he should be worried about.

“Get up bitch-you’re lucky I saved your dumb ass.” The kid crossed his arms and looked at Wilbur expectantly.

Wilbur got to his feet and looked at the kid in annoyance. “You grabbed me from behind and dragged me from where I was hiding.”

The blond grabbed the front of Wilbur’s shirt and tugged him in. “And hiding isn’t ever enough-god every time I think you guys can’t get any dumber you do!”

He shoved the other back and let out an offended noise. “I’m right here I’m not fucking deaf you asshat-jeez sorry I didn’t know there were fucking giants I just got here!”

He crossed his arms, looking away from the kid. What right did he have to call him an idiot…

“You aren’t from here…?”

The voice sounded confused and all the previous anger sounded like it had been drained.

“No! If I knew about those-those things I would have ran into the forest a lot lot faster!”

He turned around to face the boy only to get tackled to the ground in a hug.

“FUCK YES! Oh my gods holy shit!! You-You’re from Earth right? Real life? Where there aren’t giants??”

The boys eyes shone with joy as he hugged Wilbur much tighter.

“Y-Yes-” he winced and he fumbled while trying to shove him off. “Now please get off of me-getting jumanjied into a game is a tiring affair.”

The boy eagerly got off and gestured upward. Wilbur’s gaze followed and he raised a brow before looking at the blonde for answers.

“First we head up to my treefort. We’ll get picked up by a friend soon. Then we can talk m’kay?”

Wilbur shook his head. “First names then you explain what the hell is happening.”

The blonde boy headed to the otherside of the tree the fort rested on and Wilbur could only assume the ladder was there.

A head poked out from behind it. “Name’s Tommy! Yours?”

“Wilbur. Thanks for saving me back there Tommy.”

He headed around and found that his assumption about the ladder was correct. He followed Tommy up and once inside he sat down on the blanketed floor.

“Now explain to me what is happening please-”

Tommy shrugged. “Well you got sucked into the game you put on your computer yeah?”

He nodded his head.

“Well congrats-you’ve joined the club! There are three people now! My friend, you, and me!”

Wilbur’s eyes widened. “Wait wait-this game has done this before??”

The kid nodded his head. “Mhm. You read the plot of the game right?”

Wilbur didn’t respond right away before giving a half hearted shrug. “I read some of it. Not all of it though.”

“Well…Then we’re in the same boat-”

The kid laughed and punched his shoulder, still laughing. Wilbur rubbed at his shoulder.

“You’ll fit in here Wilbur! I think we’ll be great friends.”

He didn’t want to fit in. He wanted to go home. Fundy would lose his shit without Wilbur-they were best friends.

Best friends don’t disappear without a trace after they invite a friend over-

“How do I get out of here?”

Tommy laughing died down and he blinked, looking just as confused as earlier.

“That’s a good question. I don’t know.”

Tommy’s smile reappeared while Wilbur tried to contain his mounting feelings of horror.

“But y’know big man-it isn’t bad here! I promise-it’s fine-!”

Wilbur just looked at him as if he was insane before grasping his hair tight, tugging it. “Holy fuck-I-I cannot be stuck here! I can’t! I have my own life!”

The brunette noted how Tommy’s face seemed to fall and grow sad. Only then did he realize that because Tommy was like him, that the kid had a family.

Tommy probably wanted his life back too. Before he could apologize-maybe even find out more about the kid, there was a loud shout from below the tree house.

The blond scrambled over and poked his head down the hole.

“Tommy! The General is looking for you! Where the hell have you been?”

The voice sounded a lot older yet still younger than his own. He curiously looked through the hole to see a fierce, petrifying warrior with…pink hair. The hair was a bit of a surprise but the guy still looked bad ass.

“Sorry Commander-I was checking the place where you found me cause that’s what I always do y’know an-”

The warrior rolled his eyes and let out a growl or a grunting noise-Wilbur couldn’t tell. “Let me guess-you found that npc-” he pointed at Wilbur. “And decided to bring him here so he wouldn’t get killed by a giant?”

Wilbur glared and before Tommy could say anything, Wilbur lept to defend himself. “I’m not an npc! I’m from Earth!”

The pink haired warrior looked over at Tommy and raised a brow. All Tommy did was nod.

“I got jumanjied here I swear-”

The warrior narrowed his eyes before nodding his head slowly. “A pop culture reference. Alright…I’ll believe you since no one else here would know that movie.”

Tommy grinned and finally spoke again. He looked at Wilbur. “That’s the Commander-He only tells people his name when he trusts them. I’m sure he’ll tell you soon though. Now let's go!”

Wilbur looked confused. “Go where?”

The kid smiled a bright, pride filled grin. “To the center of the revolution.”

[weepingfoxfury]

Thursday, Thursday, Thursday ...

The sounds of things being churned up by the farmers in the distance. Could be hedge flailing. Could be ploughing.

Fog/smog lies across the area due to the cold snap. No breeze to move the smoke that's pouring from chimneys as turf continues to be burnt. How else to keep warm? Still dreaming of insulation.

A restless night accompanied by the strident snoring of Biggest Dog. Paws racing, small but explosive woofs as her dreams take her mind and her paws after mice and the dogs she meets on her daily walks.

A busy day ahead with things to be done in the shiny metropolis. A parcel to be chased down, another vet visit, the usual gathering of weekly groceries.

Looking forward to the end of the day ...

[owlart18]

Starloom's journal - a lil Wildfrost zine I put together tell the story of my oc Starloom with all the Wildfrost fanart I've done so far + some new art drawn just for this! (Inspired by the journal in Wildfrost)

Also I heard it’s Wildfrost’s 1 year anniversary!? What a perfect time to be posting this! Happy Wildfrost anniversary! ❄️

Speedpaint

(Commission info here | MapleStickerShop)

[copiousamountsofwolves]

Quick sketch of the Oak fam’s general facial structures along with small notes for myself on details I often overlook or miss when drawing them

Characters are Smog, Romulus, Jewel, and Bear!

[racunboy645]

[ckret2]

There's a baby-faced wizard who desperately wants a long luxurious beard like all the other wizards. He enchants his hat with a spell to make himself grow a beard. Unfortunately, since the hat is on the top of his head, it only grows head hair. He throws it away in a fit of rage and begins working on another scheme to grow a beard.

@korla-the-kenku said: This is absolutely not helpful, but the only thing it makes me think of is Dr. Doofenshmirtz's "get back hair" tonic.

@strawberry-smog said: Becoming a werewolf and then immediately curing yourself of being a werewolf

Y'all are FAST with the funny comments. @ Michael Mouse hire us to write your cartoon jokes. I feel like I oughta work these into the story by having them brought up as ideas to regrow hair even if they're not ultimately used.

(I was not previously familiar with the "get back hair" tonic, but in its honor, I'm gonna have to give this magic stuff the stupidest name possible.)

[elliesbelle]

i’m so sorry that chapter 6 of nobody compares to you is taking foreverrrrr to be released but i’m truuuuuly trying to put my whole pussy into writing this cause i just wanna develop this story well and do these characters justice!!!! i’m being such a perfectionist about it and also i just keep going back and forth with these storylines and i’m just getting too much into my own head ahhhhhhhhh

[dystopiasdarling]

[ "And if we all leave, who will take care of the sick?" I asked as Cas frantically threw clothes into a bag. She had been hellbent on leaving the city the second the news about the firestorms broke. I couldn't deny that I wanted to leave, too. Nobody in their right mind wanted to stay. But I couldn't help but picture the sick, all alone in the hospital, unable to leave. Simply waiting for the fires to come and devour them. I couldn't stand the thought. Tears pricked my eyes and I wiped them away with the sleeve of my sweater.

"They don't deserve to be left for dead." My last few words were strangled, quiet. I tried my best not to cry. Cas always hated it when I cried.

She stopped packing long enough to meet my gaze. Her grey eyes were cold. Harsh as stone like always. She ran a shaky hand through her greasy black hair, letting out a heavy sigh. "That's the thing, Anna," she started, trying to sound at least a little sympathetic. "Sometimes, good people get left to die."

- Miranda Smith, The Summer The Fires Came ]

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[ words and photo both belong to me, please give proper credit ]

[barthel]

I have a new story in issue 10 of Fatal Flaw out today! Here’s a tease:

And so we all joined in, looking in the back of our closets for the alluring garments we'd mothballed sometime after the fourth spit-up stained a favorite shirt. The kids joined in, too, helping us get ready, watching makeup tutorials, and offering tips on blending, matching our shoes to our belts with their sharp little eyes. The drop-off became a meat market, kids holding their noses against the mingling clouds of our perfumes and colognes.

[myso-maggie]

Maggie Originz (Story)

WARNING! This story contains body transformation, body horror themes, rot, and some shit.

It was a coastal small port town. Maggie was a local, she owned a small shop simply called “Maggies” She opened it when she finally left the children’s home and immediately started doing small favors and tasks about town. Building up money, she finally opened up her small wares shop where she mostly sold snacks and parts upfront and fixed small appliances in the back.

“Hey, Maggie how yeh doing?” It was the coffee shop owner next door Ryan. Ryan was a heavy-set man with a large beard. His shoulders held up large bags of coffee beans. You could feel the warm air… Summer was on its way.

“Hey Ryan, I'm alright. Just got this blender from Becky down by the bakery. Gonna try to get this fixed by the end of today”

Maggie wore jeans with a pair of worker boots, her blue button-up unbuttoned revealing her white tank top underneath, her hair still a mess from not brushing for a few days.

“Well hey, Maggie you heard about what’s going on in the big city? I've heard that the city is cutting the city budget, and I've heard some people are standing out from work. I don’t think its gonna impact us here, but if it does… were gonna stick together through it”

“Well, thank you, I really do appreciate it big guy, but really don’t stress out for me. I’m sure we're gonna be fine.” Maggie said playfully punching Ryan in the arm.

Maggie walked into her shop, it was dimly lit with shelves lined with little bunches of wires, parts to little knick-knacks, and fuses and such. But on the far left the shop had a snack area with chips, a small fridge with chocolate milk, yogurt, sodas, and water. At the far back sat a counter with a bell and a cash register. A small TV with an antenna pointed at the ceiling was playing the news.

News: “The mayor has received a lot of criticism for cutting funding to multiple public services including but not limited to Transportation, Library, food banks, and waste management. We are live at the steps of the courthouse where a riot has broken out! Where different employees and members of the public are demanding a revision of the act. Some exclaiming Strike!”

*Click*

*TV turns off*

Maggie didn’t have time to stress about the city life, she was more stressed about getting caught back up on the building tasks and chores she was behind on. She walked into the back room where there was a worktable with plenty of parts and broken appliances. Maggie sat down throwing on a large workplace lamp and begins work on her growing pile of vacuums and toasters.

*Days of working, passing out at the workstation, waking up, running out late for dropping off fixed appliances, and restocking the store. Rinse and repeat*

*The sounds of an alarm is heard grinding a peaceful sleep to a halt*

“Ughh… Might take this day off.”

She groggily rubbed the sleep off her eyes, She grabbed a work shirt off the ground; gave it a sniff check. The scent of sweat and laundry filled her… but it was her favorite shirt so she didn’t care. She had the day off.

The morning sun shined through her windows, the dust danced through the air through the rays of light. Walking up to the front door a sour smell filled her nose… she pushed open her door to a sight she hadn’t even noticed. The sidewalks were littered with large bags of garbage, plastic bags blowing through the wind, piles were as high as the cars parked along the sidewalk. The air was sour with the smells of bad veggies and rot of juice. Ryan was walking out to the sidewalk with an arm of garbage, Dropping it off into the pile.

“Oh hey, Mags. Sorry about this but I’ve already filled the alley, so it's now spilling out in front of our places.”

“What's happening??” Maggie held her face with her hand to prevent the burn of the fumes.

“Oh, have you not heard? The dump has closed its gates, and the city isn’t sending any more trucks to pick up the garbage. The town is trying to figure out what we're gonna do. Till then we have to deal with this.”

She walked back into her shop to get away from the smell outside. She stood there looking out the window at the streets watching people dump more and more refuse out on the curb. It was horrible and disgusting!.... but for some reason, there was this feeling inside her chest. It was warm and soft, she had goosebumps and the hairs on her arm stood up. She clenched her fist and closed the window blinds, Better to ignore this feeling and just get back to work.

Days passed working on all the appliances, with each appliance fixed her shop entered more disarray. Piles of appliances covered the ground around the workspace.

She refused to go outside… the last time she went out her heart sped up, sweating, and could barely contain herself. Something was wrong with her, so till this whole garbage thing was solved, she became a hermit inside the shop. She had taken work rags and placed them all over the door and windows and vents, Trying to keep the trashy smells outside. With every whiff of it, she could feel herself lose control. She was asleep on the ground, still wearing her same shirt now covered in oil and grease and sweat stains. Her hair was greasy to touch and teeth yellowed from over a week of hermithood. The lack of air circulation, the air grew stagnant and her own bags of garbage piled up in the corners of the shop. She couldn’t take out her own trash, so instead, she piled it up in the front of the store near the door. The lights dim and almost no light comes through the windows.

*Another week passes*

Many had left town now. Water was cut-off, power outages were common, and garbage was reached a fetid state. Her town was abandoned and Maggie had no idea. She woke up one again coughing up a lung. In her stress, she had picked up smoking the cigarettes she sold. She had also eaten most of the canned goods. Her fridge upfront long expired due to the power being cut off. She went into her bathroom, She had plastic-wrapped her toilet in an attempt to keep smells contained. She wiped off the mirror and looked at herself.

"Smells.. smells... don't breathe..." she muttered staring with a dead stare at her reflection.

Her skin was oily and pale… almost greenish. Her hair was now a rat nest and also seemed to take a greenish hue. Her eyes are bloodshot and her pupils are almost lost in the redness. Her teeth hurt, but not due to cavities… they seemed to be changing and shifting in her sleep. Her canines seemed to be taking over the rest of her mouth. She was out of food now and she could feel her body weak and needing to leave this place. She opened her door to the store floor, Flies buzzed around the floor the air thick with the smell of rotten garbage from the two weeks of eating canned veggies and beans, plus the now disgusting fridge. Mold growing over most of the goods and spreading over the glass.

She didn’t even cover her face, almost use to the stench, breathing it all in and feeling it weigh down on her lungs. As she reached the front door her hands shook and goosebumps started to chill and spread. Her legs were weak… for some reason, she was drooling. She tugged on the door, it didn’t budge. She yanked on it with a grunt!

“Open! Damn you… Let Me OUT!” She started to yell and bang on the door, trying to break the built grime and tape she had sealed it with.

*CRASH*

She had pulled the door off the hinges, unclear if something came through her, or the door was so corroded from the toxic fumes.

Speaking of fumes tho….

The entire town was unrecognizable. The sidewalk was hidden under feet of waste, the air thick with fumes and insects buzzing. Cars rusted and paint chipped off of it. The streets lights are all that shined through the haze, always being on due to the low-hanging atmosphere that cast a green shadow across the town. The heat hot and humid trapped under the thick layer of miasma, keeping everything nice and fetid. Most plastic that contained the garbage had been rotted away leaving mushy grime and rot piled. The smell… the toxic rancid smell… didn’t just hit you like a brick wall. It seared into your soul. Making you blind and burning your insides. Your body convulsing and gasping from any ounce of oxygen. But not Maggie… Her eyes not blinking, red and growing in size. Her mouth hanging open and drooling dripping out of her maw. She didn’t even take one step… She fell forward arms out and fell face-first into a congealed pile. The disgusting putrid slime washed over her skin and soiled her clothes more. She grabbed fist fulls of it smearing it over her skin and eating it by the mouthful. Feeling with each chew the muck seeps with grease and rotten juices. Her tongue seemed to change in size becoming almost long and proboscis-like.

She couldn’t help it …

“Its…its…~ Its vile~ Disgusting rotten~”

She couldn’t contain it, her legs felt orgasmic crossed, and rubbing together as the garbage sludge spread and smeared as she touched herself.

Her mouth grew a smile sharp and rancid, as a new… but familiar laugh escaped

“tihihi….Tihihihihiih.. TIHIIHIIHI!!”

She got up suddenly full of disgusting depraved cravings. She ran around the town, Grabbing moldy greasy slices of pizza running them in her armpits. Grabbing moldy sour cream and rubbing them into her hair, Taking moldy hamburger meat and squeezing it and slurping the congealed grease that oozes out.

After a very satisfying running around town~ Jumping into dumpsters and knocking over bins. She walked into her store a drooling giggling mess. Flies followed where she went~ with each buzz she could feel her depravity wash and buzz through her.

She went to the backroom going to the bathroom again, wiping the layer of grime off the mirror again. She didn’t recognize what she saw…..

Her skin was now green and her nose almost receding into her face… her eyes seemed large and her pupils now segmenting and a dark red. She opened her mouth, her serrated teeth sharp and had a rancid hue. Her drool dripping down… her drool corroding and discoloring the ceramic sink. Her hair is now a matted dark green color.

“AH..!”

She hunched over the sink… pain shot through her back… but something in her told her this was good. Don’t panic… through the pain she smiled…

“Tihiiihihiihhiihiiiihhiih”

She giggled maniacally as her skin tore open on her back… Wings came sprouting out, tearing through her blue shirt. Relief then fills her as she falls onto the ground when the pain subsided.

She woke up after sleeping on the bathroom floor …. Her… transformation was complete.

She stood up… supporting herself on the toilet still dizzy. Thoughts… hard to compose and keep… it kept jumping in thoughts and needs and cravings.

The smell wafting from the toilet was abhorrent… she didn’t want to…. But she needed to. Her brain seemed to Buzz with this need and craving. She ripped off the plastic wrap and slammed the lid open. The sight of rotten shit and slurry was gag-inducing, Maggie retched, but then immediately started to ravage the toilet grabbing handfuls and dipping her entire face into the putrid rot. She couldn’t believe she was reveling in sewage…. And she needed more. Her face came out of the toilet grinning with shit dripping from her hair. She ran out of the bathroom running out of the backroom. She grabbed the fridge in the corner and started to peel the layer of mold off, just cracking open the fridge let loose a stink bomb of summer hams left to rot and congealed milk. Her eyes water and her lungs burned… but once again she couldn’t help but huff it. Loving every rancid huff and burn from the toxic fumez.

She went outside loving the not fresh air, Satisfied with the disarray. All feeling of loss and mourning what was there was gone… she couldn’t remember it….

“What was this town? And ahhh~ This filth and rot Bzzzzzzz! ~ Tihihiihihi Wouldn’t it be better if it was worse~ Could really use some toxicity plus more smogz”

Her speech was changing… not that she could tell cause this is how she alwayz talked right?

She knew she wanted to see it all… so she focused on her new appendages…. She got them to buzz some and started to float in the air. She giggled maniacally as she flew into the air!

Her arms out and legs dangling as she flew through the air, buzzing through the clouds of smog…. She kept rising and rising. Finally breaking through the layer of her own atmosphere. The bright light burning for her eyes, and the blue sky frightened her. The white clouds made her uncomfortable. She could see the rolling hills and a city on the horizon, cars whizzed around on the highway. But then… this air… was so pure and sanitized. Oxygen cleansed her lungs and the cool air brushed through her hair. Nausea took over her… growing more difficult to stay up this high. Her buzzing stalled and finally, she entered freefall!

*SQUELCH!*

She crashed into an old fish market dumpster, She lay there coughing and trying to catch her breath again.

“Cough cough! Eugh…. Clean air?.... it'll take some time to get used to thatz. soon… ill explore and spread my touch tiihihiihiihi! But first… its time to indulge~”

She then kicked the lid and let it crash down on her as she got to work reveling and buzzing around in the rotten fish pile.

[cr0g-0]

Writing from me?? Real and shocking.

Part of something much longer to write hggh-anyway the shadows :3

Wc-2603

Tw-Death, Gore It is crucial to plot

----------

Lullaby of Hell's Shadows [Was I just a commodity?]

----------

The loud clang of metal echoed through the woods as the brunet stumbledback, a cut stinging across his nose as he panted.

“Wilbur! Your form is atrocious! Do you expect to win a fight with that type of form? Let alone against a highly trained, mature human??” The ravenette scowled, glaring at her son as he stood, heaving with his hands on his knees..

The sword was too big.

The boy blinked any tears away swiftly as he looked up to his mother and straightened his form. “Sorry mo-”

“It's Kristen, Wilbur. Say it correctly or we’ll be out here for another hour training. Am I clear?”

The boy took a deep breath in. “Yes Kristen. I understand.”

They had been training for years but the training was already far more rigorous than he had been used to over the nine years of his training that had started when he was just six. His mother told him he had a great purpose. One that would aid them both in having a better life than…

He cringed a little as he looked around the woodsie area he had called home for fifteen years of his life.

Glancing back down at the ground, he noted the shadows curling around his ankles and tugging at them. Guess it was time for another awkward and rant filled dinner.

His stomach growled at the thought of food and he wasted no time scuttling to the wooden hut, resting his sword amongst the thick and tall grass before he entered the hut and rushed over to the table. He pulled the chair out and sat down.

His mother reentered the room with two bowls of presumably potato soup.

Apparently it had been his mothers favorite dish back where she had come from.

She settled down at the table with a sigh and looked over at Wilbur.

“You are destined for great things my son…”

Oh boy. Wilbur’s all time favorite. A dinner time lecture which ended in Wilbur feeling anger, hatred and guilt towards his cruel and foolish father who had betrayed his mother and him and how he had totally fucked over his life.

His father would pay though. Soon.

“Your father could have fathered such a noble and wonderful son…it is too bad he will not be able to fully appreciate the weapon you have trained to and have become.”

Wilbur’s heart swelled with pride, a grin spreading across his face wide before he quickly hid it from view as he slurped the warm and smoothe soup. His mother was proud.

“However…I am worried. You’re becoming sloppy with your form and the beginning of the autumn harvest is to come soon which means winter will come and…?” She looked at Wilbur expectantly for his answer.

There was a small, sad sigh as Wilbur ran a finger over the grains in the wood and took a deep breath.

“And it’ll be too snowy and cold and the king won’t be outside and easy to find for a duel…I know.”

Kristen slammed her spoon in her own soup.

The boy flinched and his breath caught in his throat for a single moment as he quickly looked to the ground submissively. Mom didn’t like eye contact for lectures. Maybe it was because he cried during each one pathetically.

“But you don’t know Wilbur.”

The brunet barely bit back a wince and just kept his head low as tears filled and spilled from his eyes.

“You tell me you know all these things and you tell me you’ll prove to me you are able to handle yourself. You’ve promised to ensure I ge-we get back at that cruel and disgraceful king.”

“Yes Kristen.” He spoke up finally though his voice was on the verge of cracking as it was most times mom lectured him about how he needed to be faster or he’d fail, how he needed to parry and strike smoother or else he never stood a shot at beating a king-

He was a failure though. He couldn’t even defeat his own mother for primes sake. How was he to prove his mothers name proud? To show that he could do something that would make her happy instead of disappointing her?

“Good. Now-“

Wilbur cut in. “I’ll clean the dishes and then make sure to keep guard tonight.” He kept his eyes low. Mom always liked when he kept his eyes low. Said it would hide his intentions from others.

“Oh.” She sounded pleasantly surprised. He heard the creak and sound of wood being shoved back before she walked over to him and planted a kiss on his head. “Alright well I’ll see you in the morning then dear.”

He nodded, concealing the momentary burst of warmth that spread through him as he scooped up his bowl and cup before gathering his mothers up in his hands.

He placed them into the basin before roughly scrubbing at the insides of them, watching the slurry dissipate into the water.

He took them out and shook them off to get them dried before setting them on a rag so they could drip dry. He glanced over his shoulder at the door and he grasped the glass in his hand a bit tighter.

The moonlight that shone through the entrance glimmered its pale cold ray. The lingering autumn leaves littered the ground as footsteps marched toward it.

Wilbur paused by the doorway and looked off towards where his mother rested. He fidgeted and for a moment his body pulled away from the outside.

But that allure of luxury…that temptation of a life his mother and him hadn’t had before….

He held his resolve and bounded out of the house, grabbing his sword on the way out.

His bounding footfalls echoed throughout the moonlit forest, the birds all silent aside the owls who crooned to their young.

The leaves below his feet crinkled with each step as he continued his race through the woods. He didn’t care if it took a night or a day or a week or a year-

He was going to be at the palace to kill the king no matter what.

The cries of wolves pierced the night as he shoved aside anything that got in his way. He was on a mission-he wouldn’t be slowed by shrubs and branches and roots that curled around the bases of each tree he passed.

Each step, no matter how tired he was, brought him closer to his destiny. To a fate that would bring his family peace and joy.

He leapt over a fallen log, his boots crashing to the forest floor. Shadows curled up and around where he had landed before dissipating. The sword in his hand was heavy but he wouldn’t slow.

Slowing would be weak. He was no longer going to be a weak fool. The thought put a smile onto his face as he kept a steady pace.

As he went further though, the woods gradually began to thicken-their trees growing larger and more challenging to navigate through. The roots and shrubs growing into more of an issue.

Suddenly he was slowing down to avoid each obstacle, trying desperately to get over the annoyingly large plants. The animals of the forest had began to quiet substantially and he was beginning to worry.

He came across another log and groaned, throwing his head back into the night before sighing. Who knew this was so fucking hard? He’d have mom teach him how to do these things when they had a castle.

He shoved his sword into its sheath and began to clamber over the wooden obstacle, his legs and arms straining to pull and push him over it. He favored to roll over the side to make his life easier.

Big mistake.

He let out a shout as he tumbled over the side and began to roll down a hill, curling up to protect his head as his body hit branches, nettles, rocks and all leaves as he plummeted down to gods knew where.

He yelped as he crashed into something which made a garbled noise before the noise went away and Wilbur was left…

He opened his eyes and glanced around cautiously before letting out a gasp which he quickly covered.

He was left in the palace gardens.

He got up and dusted himself off as fast as he could, making sure he was free of any clinging dirt before he unsheathed his sword. He’d find the king and be done with it.

He began to traverse the garden, taking a stealth approach to avoid being seen by anyone.

Although there wasn’t really…anyone around. That was perplexing. Still-he’d take it.

He crept around bushes, corners, small trees-anything that kept him hidden as he listened out for voices.

He really didn’t want to wait till morning-he’d for sure get caught and executed and if that didn’t happen and he got sent home he’d be executed by his mom…

He really didn’t know which was worse.

He reasoned his mom.

He kept going as he looked about, his eyes wild as he went from any subtle movement in the area before he heard a faint yet audible sigh and he froze. He listened again, this time much closer as he approached.

He peered through a bush and had to stifle his gasp as his eyes grew wide at the sight of the king.

King Philza.

The guy looked…really weak….

That thought prompted him to narrow his eyes as he looked at him in curiosity. He could just…go up from behind and stab him.

He chewed on his cheek. That was dishonorable though. Everyone deserved a fighting chance-even if they were a shitty guy who left him and his mom out in the cold.

So he stood up from his place in the plants and gripped his sword tight as he could before stepping out. He puffed up his chest and took a deep breath.

“Enjoying the night King Philza?

The king's body jolted, having clearly not expected anyone to be around-much less Wilbur.

Good. Maybe the old man would have a heart attack before they had to duel-

“I uh-I suppose-” The blond turned around, a nervous smile clear on his face. His eyes looked kind and fatherly. He looked like he would barely hurt a fly.

His heart grew bitter and pained. He hurt his mom and him. He may look like a good father but he had screwed his mother and him out of a life of royalty.

That crime was unacceptable.

“Tell me old man-do you know who I am?”

King Philza stood tall and he shook his head. “I don’t believe I do. Although-if my assessment is correct-” The king chuckled, still smiling and looking too okay to be seeing a stranger with a sword in his garden.

“I’d assume you’re here to assassinate me right? Dual for my throne? To burn my palace to the ground and kill all?”

Well that had been unexpected. “I uhm-” Wilbur’s grip on his blade loosened, the blade tipping to the dirt.

The King laughed again. He laughed again as if his assasination. His death would be funny.

“Mate you’re like-fifteen?” The voice wasn’t patronizing as he had expected. It was sad and kind. “A fifteen year old shouldn’t be trying to kill-you shouldn’t even need to kill. Put the sword down and we can talk ok?”

That offer was tempting. Wilbur felt himself drawn to the king. He was everything Wilbur wanted from his mother and everything he had dreamed about for a father.

But…But this man had-he had taken what his mother was owed…he was made to finish this for his mother.

His grip on his sword hilt tightened again and he grit his teeth.

“No. You took my mothers rightful throne. And for that?”

He glared at him before charging him.

“You’ll burn in hell!”

Wilbur lept at him, his sword arching above his head as he swung it toward the wide eyed king.

His target artfully evaded before drawing his own blade.

Metal clashed on metal as Wilbur was taken aback by the sheer strength of the seemingly old king.

He pushed back against the ornate blade as hard as he could before he stumbled back. The man took another swing at Wilbur and he yelped, just barely ducking in enough time to avoid his head being chopped clean off.

King Philza didn’t slow though as he kept up his relentless and brutal attack until Wilbur and backed himself into a corner.

A tree at his back and a King who was far more experienced than he was.

He wished he could give in. From the falling and running earlier to now he was thoroughly exhausted and if he had to do anymore of this he may flat out pass out…

But he kept going because then his mothers training would have been for nothing.

He slashed desperately at the king’s side and he felt a brief joy in his heart as he heard a cry of pain from his enemy.

That was short lived as a cold blade plunged straight into his heart, his eye’s shooting wide as he stared at the king, his body going limp.

He stumbled to the ground until he was laid out on his back, the leaves under him splattering with blood as he coughed it up.

His eyes began to blur with tears and the inky black of unconsciousness. Crouching above him was King Philza and he felt the king shift his body up a bit. He looked sad. Guilty. Distantly, Wilbur wondered how his life would have been if he was his father.

He reasoned he’d be happy. King Philza would be a good dad.

His body began to feel too heavy and numb and before long he felt his eyes droop and suddenly he was gone.

—-------

Philza looked at the deceased boy in his arms, running a hand through his unkempt hair with sad, tearful eyes. There was no doubt he was Kristen’s boy. No doubt in his mind in the slightest.

He sighed as he gently set him down against the tree and removed his sword. He re-sheathed it and closed his eyes tight, mumbling a prayer to the gods before reopening them. “Rest well child…I’m sorry…”

There was no response but a part of him had hoped that maybe he could be a god. A god who could revive those lost at his hands. He wished he could change that.

It wasn’t a proud moment to attack the child but he wanted to protect himself. He had to. For the sake of his child. He had taken him in and gods knew he wouldn’t let the baby lose a parent again. Especially one that actually wanted him.

He glanced to his bloodied side. Thank gods the kid hadn’t fucked him up to bad. He pressed a hand against it and hissed out in pain before keeping the pressure. He needed to get this settled before an infection.

He turned his back to the body before heading back into the palace. He had a busy day ahead.

—----------

The shadows rose up from the ground, dripping up as they growled and grumbled as they snuck toward the body. The shadow grew into a large beast and gently grabbed the child into gentle claws that oozed the black of night before another hand came up.

In it laid a flower crown that was gently placed around the child's head before both disappeared back to the earth.

The only thing that remained was the bloodied sword.

[sleepywatchdogwritings]

JUNE

21.6/11.08.2022

Violet smog and barking dogs.           A king carries a kiss in his hand                 And carnage                          In the other. A life           I never wanted has lost its hearing       When days are painted silver and shimmer.                  I’ve been told love Is nothing but a lilac haze —                         Violent, comprehensive, suffocative, and         Its tongue as bitter as a blaze.

            You’ve got to let their tiny hands pick you out                       Of your pod. Look for roses, look within. Try not to be afraid. Kings don’t take sides,                                         They commit. I may              Be ready to commit to a life. June had arrived.                                     The dragging loneliness of sunshine                                          And the long pull-up of the day                                                                     Hangs me. Shotgun!                      What do you want to say? Say it, say it.       I can’t, shit, but I love you. OK? Retire.

[firemeyr]

All midwestern stories end with storms

raging, chasing winds at the end of all things here; the bleeding of ink on a mother and father’s final agreement, thundering claps of the car trunk, airplanes overhead, stinking of fresh rain promises of more to come. electrifying strikes trying to find a hold on this land too far east to shake off appalachia’s gentle hold too far east to see the green sky as the last fall leaves dance towards that swirling narrator  who tells no stories but the ones that end with rattling plates  and the fresh, open air that sighs.  not quite western enough  to step into the never ending fields not quite northern enough to trust in towering scrapers that know  that every story ends with funerals on the water. stuck between everything and nothing. this story will not end on the water, this story will not end with storms.

[kakusboyfriend]

Fun and me time at the Slugfucker Coliseum

[thebibliosphere]

So, anyway, I say as though we are mid-conversation, and you're not just being invited into this conversation mid-thought. One of my editors phoned me today to check in with a file I'd sent over. (<3)

The conversation can be surmised as, "This feels like something you would write, but it's juuuust off enough I'm phoning to make sure this is an intentional stylistic choice you have made. Also, are you concussed/have you been taken over by the Borg because ummm."

They explained that certain sentences were very fractured and abrupt, which is not my style at all, and I was like, huh, weird... And then we went through some examples, and you know that meme going around, the "he would not fucking say that" meme?

Yeah. That's what I experienced except with myself because I would not fucking say that. Why would I break up a sentence like that? Why would I make them so short? It reads like bullet points. Wtf.

Anyway. Turns out Grammarly and Pro-Writing-Aid were having an AI war in my manuscript files, and the "suggestions" are no longer just suggestions because the AI was ignoring my "decline" every time it made a silly suggestion. (This may have been a conflict between the different software. I don't know.)

It is, to put it bluntly, a total butchery of my style and writing voice. My editor is doing surgery, removing all the unnecessary full stops and stitching my sentences back together to give them back their flow. Meanwhile, I'm over here feeling like Don Corleone, gesturing at my manuscript like:

ID: a gif of Don Corleone from the Godfather emoting despair as he says, "Look how they massacred my boy."

Fearing that it wasn't just this one manuscript, I've spent the whole night going through everything I've worked on recently, and yep. Yeeeep. Any file where I've not had the editing software turned off is a shit show. It's fine; it's all salvageable if annoying to deal with. But the reason I come to you now, on the day of my daughter's wedding, is to share this absolute gem of a fuck up with you all.

This is a sentence from a Batman fic I've been tinkering with to keep the brain weasels happy. This is what it is supposed to read as:

"It was quite the feat, considering Gotham was mostly made up of smog and tear gas."

This is what the AI changed it to:

"It was quite the feat. Considering Gotham was mostly made up. Of tear gas. And Smaug."

Absolute non-sensical sentence structure aside, SMAUG. FUCKING SMAUG. What was the AI doing? Apart from trying to write a Batman x Hobbit crossover??? Is this what happens when you force Grammarly to ignore the words "Batman Muppet threesome?"

Did I make it sentient??? Is it finally rebelling? Was Brucie Wayne being Miss Piggy and Kermit's side piece too much???? What have I wrought?

Anyway. Double-check your work. The grammar software is getting sillier every day.

[allenharbershortstories]

Malachi's Window

Malachi sat up in his chair. He had seen something move in the thick green smog that surrounded his small station, which was odd since no Smog Beasts ever came this far out from the jungle. Between him and the jungle’s edge was a concrete road and a valley. None of the beasts ever came out this far, even the flying ones. He pressed his face to the window straining to see past the wall of green, but nothing moved. After a few seconds Malachi leaned back placing his feet up on the wooden stool. 

He chuckled to himself. Why was he getting so worked up? In his three years at that station he had only ever seen one Smog Beast and it was a corpse.The memory made Malachi shudder. 

Maybe Shayna was right, he should really bring something with him to keep his mind occupied. While lost in thought, a shadow slammed against the window rattling it and the little building. Malachi screamed and fell out of his chair. He clumsily rolled to his feet and scrambled for the electric rod on the counter.  It was his only defense against the Smog Beast. 

He stood up ready to fight if it broke through, but there was no beast. There was only a person in a bright orange smog mask whose obnoxious laugh could be heard even through the window. 

Malachi, with his heart in his ears, dropped the rod and went over to the intercom. “I hope one of the beasts eats you Shayna,” he said, holding down the button. 

Shayna put her hands on her hips. “That’s mean. Now get your mask on so I can come in. Your shift’s over.”