#so I just amped it up a little

[tertain-the-original]

Briar Beauty

Daughter of Sleeping Beauty

Despite being a Royal, Briar always had a bit of Rebel deep down in her. Her favorite punk band, Frogmouth, is always blasting through her headphones as she races down busy streets in her rollerblades. She can almost always be seen with a new injury, be it a bandage or a cast. She is also known for throwing the BEST parties, always knowing what the perfect vibe is for each occasion. Briar has to be this way, if she wants to experience all she can and spend time with her friends before she is cursed to fall asleep for 100 years.

[mrghostrat]

I FINISHED THIS FUCKIN COMMISSION! 2 WEEKS!! FIFTEEN WHOLE GUYS!!!!!

i have now officially drawn ONE HUNDRED owls for this man.

[getinthefuckingcarkitten]

cw: Implied character death. This one is kind of brutal.

There had been a rhythm to things, at least until now: the party had a set of rules, and it would always start a certain way and finish a certain way. As long as everyone toed the line, which blurred but never disappeared, things would follow their natural course. The flow of the ritual shouldn't be disturbed.

If this was so, Avery didn't understand exactly where it went wrong as she followed the procession that went after where the dogs had dragged their prey to. The biting cold of the moors was sinking deep into her as the full moon peaked over the horizon, red and glaring down at her like never before. At her, specifically. The other masked guests, elks trailed by their foxes, didn't seem to have any sort of reaction to that eerie glow as they gathered in a circle at the edge of the forest.

In the center of the circle, a girl lifted her head, never having looked so terribly fragile. She wasn't granted the grace of a mask. The ears that poked out of her head and fluffy, soft tail behind her more than made up for it, even if now they looked all matted and dirty from being dragged from the mansion, and everyone peered down as her unfocused gaze seemed to look for something in the crowd, though she was clearly too out of it to see anything clearly.

Yet, as her head turned to Avery's direction, she was so sure that the little fox could stare through her mask. Her gaze remained on Avery for a moment, with Avery looking back at her. Even if she could say something, she wasn't sure of what could be said. The last thing she had said was asking the fox to be good, but judging from her beaten look, she hadn't just complied with the hunting dogs. It was just like her to do that, of course. The fox also said nothing. Maybe she was truly too out of it to speak or reach out, maybe she had given up on begging for Avery to help her with anything at all.

Then, as the silver fox approached, Avery turned away. Or she tried to turn away, as a looming presence appeared besides her, and turning away in front of her would only expose her weakness.

"You're quite close to the main show." Remy's voice whispered to her from behind the High Elk mask. "Even though you were trying to keep it for yourself."

Avery remained silent, staring straight ahead as the silver fox made her call. Wide-eyed, the little fox let out a distressed sound as she tried to run away, on all fours, though she was already so worn out that it didn't take long for a dog to grab at her.

"A real one!" Remy seemed to be disgustingly happy. "A real one, so that we don't have to pretend!... You know, i don't blame you. Had you managed to keep this for yourself..."

"Who told you?" Avery asked, blinking as another dog grabbed the little fox, shoving her down even as she tried to bite, scratch it away from her. Blood trickled from her cheek as she managed to lift her head up again, before being shoved down almost instantly.

"Doesn't matter now." Remy replied. "But that was naughty. But thanks to your little stunt, this might be the most successful renewal so far... And you're lucky that i'm so amenable."

She playfully elbowed Avery, who wobbled on contact, and though she could quickly straighten herself up, it was a good excuse to turn her head away as she pretended to recover her bearings. Remy gave a low chuckle at that.

"Come on." She spoke with a lightness that barely hid the smug sound of victory underneath. "Don't tell me you got attached."

"This hunt is boring." Avery snapped, the mere notion of what Remy suggested making her sneer. "You already knew the target before it even began."

"Don't be a sore loser." Remy tutted. "You're still here because you were smart enough to give up your prize, so play nice."

An ear-splitting scream came from the fox, now overwhelmed by the hunting dogs, a sound akin to an animal being ripped apart, and Avery stepped back only to bump into Remy. The pressure in the air made Avery look ahead again, her breath catching in her chest as she saw the flicker of ginger-blonde fur disappear amongst the dogs and never get back up.

"To me, it's never been quite as interesting." Remy's tone darkened, a little lower than the usual. "What a prize, indeed."

Avery looked down between them, the ritual dagger in Remy's hand between the fabric of their dresses still reflecting the sickening red glow of the moon.

"I almost forgot," Remy said, as the silver fox came up to her side. "You won this."

She placed the laurel crown on Avery's head very gingerly, yet the leaves might as well have been gilded with gold as it weighted down on her head. With no more words to share between them, Remy walked to the center of the circle as the dogs dispersed, dagger in hand, as the ritual was about to be finished once more, the flow of it disturbed but never, Avery realized now, never having strayed from the end goal.

[thecryptidenthusiast]

title: concatenation

rating: M

warnings: depersonalization and derealization. This is dealing with nightmares and warped perceptions of events so just be mindful if you decide to read!

summary: Ortega’s dreams are no fun place to be.

You’re climbing the stairs.

Feet scrape against concrete, echoing louder with each dragging step. Four sets, making this damned trek.

Until four becomes three.

(you heard the scream)

Did I?

A blur shoots past you; a flash of black-blue running higher. Rounding the corner to slip out of sight.

And three became two.

You can’t feel it.

Can’t feel the hurt. Can’t feel what’s ripping your team apart, piece by piece. Word by unheard word they are rendered to shreds. Is it better this way? Did you wish you could hear them, too?

(Do you wish you’d suffered with them?)

One. A lone man left to make this journey. Up higher, until there’s no way but forward.

A hall, stretch, stretched, s t r e t c h i n g ahead. No doors but the one at the end. Pass by water-yellowed paint, walls with holes pocketed in them. Signs of the life this building once held.

One door.

One choice. Always just

one.

Open it (don’t, not again) and finally see. Always a second too late, just one step too many behind.

A flash of green. A spray of red.

Erin always was one step ahead.

Ahead.

A head.

Two bodies, one a head lighter. Both fall. One you cradle, while one watches on. Hold her like it will keep her together, like you can make up for your failure. Cold, life already gone, skin like plastic under your hands. You don’t look - if you don’t look, you won’t see, and it won’t be real.

But you know.

(You know that this isn’t how it happened,

don’t you?)

You are climbing the stairs.

Where?

Always climbing, they never end. No more footsteps echoing except your own; where are you, Ricardo? What were you doing?

(Were you always alone?)

Another door. Another choice. Metal instead of wood. A hospital facade; wolf in sheep’s skin, hiding away the rot. Swing it open with a grinding creak, step inside and-

Faceless figures clad in all white. As featureless as the room they stand in. They do not see, as if you no longer exist.

They do. This did.

Erin, scooped off the pavement and stolen away; she existed. Brought here to be spread out on a gurney like a sacrifice on an altar. Cut up and peeled open - wings of an insect pinned to a board. Alive but dead. Killed and resurrected.

She’s crying, but nobody hears. Here.

Here, nobody cares.

Throw yourself at them (stop, stop, STOP) but one step forward is two more back. Never getting close, making no progress. Couldn’t save her before, you can’t save her now.

She’s crying, and you are screaming. Threatening. Then pleading: please don’t, please let her go, please just stop. Knees hit linoleum, you beg for forgiveness; you’re so terribly sorry, you never meant for any of this. But the figures don’t see you. Their white runs red and they move like you don’t exist, because you were never here to begin with.

(you

never

came)

You are running up the stairs.

Chase your black-blue blur. Go after her, hero. Maybe this time you’ll save her. Maybe this time, things will be different. Things can change.

(Can they?)

Erin is fast, but you are faster.

She is racing to her end, and you are hot on her heels.

No flash of green. No red, no stench of burning skin. But remember.

Remember?

(Not the gun)

A body hits the window; glass rains, glimmering under bright afternoon sun. You lunge, push your body harder than ever. A body you’ve broken and mended, bent it to your own will, you’ve defied the odds before.

You are just fast enough

(you know.

you know you weren’t)

Glove finds glove, hand grips hand. Hold tight now. Fighting gravity and even heroes can’t prevent inevitability. A (not dead) weight, dragging you both over. Down. Down

D

O

W

N

Falling.

You are always falling.

Cityscape fades, mountainside rushing by you both. A bad jump (faulty equipment, always too reckless, Charge). Four storeys up, five, ten. Were you always this high? You know.

You know how this story ends.

You never left those stairs. A ghost haunting a gravesite that isn’t yours. Walking. Running.

Lunge. Miss.

Repeat.

[front-facing-pokemon]

[kuromi-hoemie]

hhhh talking about my writing was fun but 30 tags is not enough.. yes i have 3 major influences but i have minor ones too.. it is a lovechild of my favorite things.. writing is so fun and i have no self control or a concept of pacing myself i will sit there for 16 hours and get hit with every status effect but by god does it all just flow out of me. I've always been a music person yes but i also used to write a lot into early adulthood until The Incident™

but i am ready 2 jump back into it. i think comics are a great middle ground between the two mediums so i don't get As into writing bc i kind of started going crazy last time 🫡 i can take a more structured approach to it that forces me to pace myself and think about it differently. i love art.... i love making things i love knowing how to do things i love knowing how to play things i love having so many creative outlets, even if i don't do a lot of them regularly lol. it is enriching 😳 and nice to know that it's always there to come back to when u want.

[aranciadotcom]

guys what are your sb opinions/hot takes i'm genuinely curious

[bmpmp3]

i do think its kinda funny when i see someone in the year of our lord 2024 talk about vocal synth music like its all gone downhill since like 2010 because like dont get me wrong i love a good niconicodouga-ass 2008 ass vocaloid joint BUT also like. the past couple years have had the most fascinatingly creative and expressive uses of vocal synthesizers ive ever heard in my life DJFSKHJDFS dont write it all off just yet!!

[buildoblivion]

you know those posts that are like ‘what topic could you make a 5 hour video essay on lol’? yeah that’s me with the caves of androzani part three cliffhanger

[zemnarihah]

also he was like we should still be friends and i was like okay but i don't want to talk to you for a while and he was like okay let me know when you're ready and then after like a week i felt fine about it and was like we should have a call to talk more about being friends and stuff and what that would look like and he was like i'm soooo busy.... maybe tomorrow.... and it's been like several days and he hasn't made any effort to contact me. okayyyy

[sysig]

Dying about stick figures rn (Patreon)

[lucky-draws]

22.4.23

[fdrsamericanflagduckfloaty]

i hate to say it but

southern motherfucking democratic-republicans

[marsdemo]

picked up a discman second hand today and took it home and replaced the batteries and stickered it and such I am so happy right now. btw this website is dying

[nyf-archive]

well @never-surrender convinced me and i made a new page and tagged a bunch of you without meaning to lmao. gimme a few hours and the page will be up and ready to go

[seesgood]

nah but like, the subtle slide into the Bad Space of mental health is so uniquely weird bc i didn’t get crushed by the wave, i just got very gently eased under until it’s like hm, am i? drowning a little? oh shit

( it’s all good. we’re good. 🐼 have a panda for your troubles. 🐼 )