#the two of them give aether and dew a run for their money to be the grossest couple in their honeymoon phase

[coffeeghoulie]

the places we never should have left

or Ghostober Day #31: Aftercare

Much thanks to @kroas-adtam for putting Ghostober together, and much thanks to @askingforthesun for letting this live in your dms for a while <3

also tagging @mac-and-thefox, hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Swiss/Aeon

There's nothing more Aeon likes than the intimacy of laying together with their mate after sex.

Title from Bishops Knife Trick by Fall Out Boy

Mature, 1.7k. Mentions of ghoul mating customs, and a little tease at some lore I've been working on for a while, but other than that, just straight fluff. They/them pronouns for Aeon.

divider by @ghuleh-recs <3

When Aeon's vision returns to them, consciousness coming back to their body, the first thing they're aware of is a warm, solid weight on top of them, pressing them flat on their back into the mattress. Sweet spice fills their nose as their breathing evens out.

"Fuck," they wheeze, laughing softly as the weight on top of them shifts, pushing them further into blankets and sheets and pillows. Sharp stubble scrapes against the side of their neck, a soft huff of breath on skin as Swiss shoves his face into where Aeon's scent is strongest.

He kisses the crook of their neck. "'Fuck' is right," he agrees, taking a deep breath before pulling back, one more apologetic kiss to their skin.

Both ghouls hiss through their teeth with sensitivity as Swiss slowly pulls out.

"Aw, don't go," Aeon complains teasingly, complete with grabby hands. Swiss laughs, teeth flashing in the low lamplight from their nightstand.

"Not going anywhere, buggy," he promises, even as he whistles under his breath at the mess the two of them had made. "Might need to clean the hearth, though. Got cum and slick fucking everywhere."

Aeon blushes at the very recent memory of what he'd done to them, what Swiss had made their body do. Of how every nerve in their vessel had been lit up like neon, like fireworks, as bright as the sun. Aeon's not shy or prude, not by a long shot, but Swiss knows how to push the envelope in ways that rock their world.

Despite his observations, Swiss goes easily as Aeon pulls him back down. "Cuddles with my space heater first, clean up later. You know you don't want to get up yet."

Swiss laughs, melodic like the chapel bells. "When you inevitably fall asleep and wake up all sticky and gross, don't you dare complain to me," he smiles, maneuvering their bodies until his quint is curled up on his chest. "You're right though, sweetheart. Cuddles can't wait."

Aeon chuffs happily as Swiss drags them where he wants them, rubbing their cheek against his collarbone. "How're you doing?" they mumble softly. Their one good eye locks onto the still-healing bitemark in the crook of Swiss's neck. It's only a few weeks old, and Aeon's filled with a burst of pride to know it's healing well.

Swiss smiles, warm and fond, calloused fingers brushing a strand of sweaty, white hair from Aeon's forehead. "Doing fantastic, sweetheart," he coos, carding through their hair. "Thank you, baby. And you? I wasn't too..." he trails off, uncertainty and worry cutting through his scent. He cares so much and it makes Aeon's heart pang to know it's all for them.

"It was perfect," Aeon whispers, pushing themself a little more upright so they can meet Swiss's golden eyes. "Promise that I would have said something if I didn't like anything we did."

Swiss's lips quirk up into a smile, and he leans in, craning his neck to kiss the matching, half-healed bitemark on their throat. "I love you, Aeon," he breathes, something sacred and secret. One of the fundamental truths of the world.

The sky is blue.

The Earth orbits the sun.

Swiss loves Aeon.

And Swiss must be the luckiest bastard in the world Above or Below, because Aeon loves Swiss too.

They tell him as much, worming their arms around his neck as they settle back down on his chest. Aeon's nose nudges his jaw, taking a deep, satisfied breath of his scent. "Never want to leave this," they admit.

"You don't have to," Swiss says, barely a moment after the words left their mouth. He holds them tighter. One big hand comes up to card through sweaty dark hair. "I'm never letting you go."

Aeon settles down, a smug smile on their face as they get more comfortable in his arms. They rub their legs together like an oversized cricket. The feeling of slick and cum sticky on their inner thighs makes them cringe for just a moment, but they ignore it in favor of existing here with him.

Eventually, Swiss sits up with a groan, taking Aeon with him as he reaches for the nightstand. He grabs the bottle of water he set out there, popping the lid open. The ice inside rattles. "Take a drink, sweetheart," he says, offering it to them first.

Aeon rolls their eyes, a little disgruntled from being bodily moved without warning, but they gulp down their share of the water, eyes fluttering as they realize just how thirsty they were. Eventually they pull back with a little gasp, passing the water bottle wordlessly back to Swiss. They raise an eyebrow, and Swiss laughs at their attempt at looking stern.

Regardless, he drinks as well, Aeon leaning in to rest their forehead against his collarbone, breathing in the scent of salt and spice. "Come on, we were cuddling," Aeon whines, faux annoyed, but their tail still curls gently around Swiss's calf. "I was comfy, you didn't have to move me."

Swiss shakes his head, laughing as he swallows. The water bottle is set aside with a clunk, and Swiss buries his nose in Aeon's hair. The scent is rich with blackberries and ozone and sweat. "Oh, I'm so sorry, buggy."

Aeon huffs, and Swiss keeps laughing as they shove him back to the bed, arms tight around his middle. He cards his fingers through their hair again, and Aeon chuffs loudly as they make themself comfortable against his chest. "Yeah, yeah, water is important. I'm not moving. I'm right where I wanna be."

He grins, bright like a thousand suns, and kisses their forehead. Aeon cranes their neck and kisses him for real. "Me too," he whispers against their lips.

Swiss can't stop smiling. "Okay, we've drank, and I know you said you're not moving, but do you want something to eat?"

Something bright lights up in Aeon's eyes, and Swiss knows exactly what they're going to say before they even open their mouth. "I want that stuffed flatbread we had when we were in the Ninth."

Swiss laughs incredulously, but there's no heat behind it. "Buggy, you want me to go wake up Cee to open a portal to the Pit just so I can get you flatbread?"

"Aw, Swiss, why not?" They laugh, tail flicking behind them. "It was really good flatbread."

He chuffs into their hair. "Yeah, it was good flatbread. You've been asking for it for two months. I promise you, if we ever go back together, the first thing I'll do is get you flatbread. And we'll each get our own this time so you can have more."

"I knew I made the right choice with you. Lucifer, I fucking love you," Aeon proclaims, cupping his face in their hands and pressing a firm kiss to his lips.

When they pull back, Swiss can't take his eyes off of them. They're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, the string lights above his bed casting soft purple light over them, catching in their hair and eyes. If he didn't know any better, he'd say that Aeon's glowing.

He stares up at them, silent, long enough that a little furrow forms in their brow. "Swiss?" Aeon whispers, cocking their head like a confused puppy as they prop themself up on their elbows. Black and white hair falls over their sweaty forehead. "What's goin' on in there?"

Swiss shakes his head, reaches up to cup their cheek in one big hand. "Just thinking, bug." He smooths a thumb over their cheek, carefully avoiding the old scar running over their eye.

Their lips quirk up in a tiny smile, granting him a peek of crooked fangs that nibble at their bottom lip. "Penny for your thoughts?"

Swiss's other arm comes around the small of Aeon's back, gently pulling them back until they're flush with his chest. Aeon doesn't put up a fight, lets themself be moved. "Just, thinkin' about how much has changed in the last couple years," he says, still smoothing his thumb over their cheek. He ducks his head to nose between their horns. "How happy I am. How lucky I am that you're mine."

He lets the rest of it hang unsaid. My friend, my packmate. My bug. My love. My claimed.

Aeon, however, isn't content with things left unsaid. They nuzzle into the side of Swiss's neck, pressing a kiss to the mark they left there. "I know. Me too," they whisper, almost inaudible. "I love you. Thank you for being my mate."

The bites haven't even fully healed yet. The word still tastes novel on their tongues. They cannot wait to hear it for the rest of their lives.

Swiss kisses the taste of their words from their lips, and Aeon happily obliges. "Don't thank me," he whispers. "I wanted to be yours just as bad."

Aeon chuffs, and Swiss echoes them. "I love you," Aeon breathes. Their tail finds his, twining around each other until the spades touch. "Love you so much."

Swiss's hand comes up to cup the back of their head, and he cranes his neck to kiss over their mark. "I love you too. Til the earth starts to crumble."

Aeon's tail wags. Or at the very least, it tries to wag, still entwined with Swiss's. They both laugh brightly, a blush settling over Aeon's face.

"Alright, my mate," Swiss coos, pressing one more kiss between Aeon's eyes. "I think we've put off showering long enough. We can cuddle all we want after we've cleaned up."

Aeon huffs, but pushes up off of Swiss. When they climb out of their hearth, their knees wobble, but Swiss is quick to grab their bicep and steady them. "Allow me, buggy," he says, playfully over-dramatic, before sweeping them into his arms and carrying them to the bathroom to start the shower.

When they and the hearth are both clean and dry, they'll come back to bed and curl in on each other, jagged puzzle pieces that fit perfectly together. But for now, Aeon laughs as Swiss hip checks the bathroom door shut behind him.

[silverandarsenic-hcs]

Ghost BC x Murder

im a simple girl. i have mental illness. i fantasize about being brutally murdered. is this problematic? 1000% yes. am i going to get canceled for this? 1000% yes. Have I been posting on borrowed time since that little caesars post? again, 1000% yes. Here’s this anyways.

TW: murder, blood, gore, manipulation (Papa II, Papa III), stalking (copia), domestic abuse (Papa III), substance and drug abuse (Papa II), Suicide (Papa II and Dew), Sex crimes - all consensual (Dew) these are about how they would murder you so im sure you can imagine the types of bad things it will entail. 

Papa I: For him, it’s a fit of emotion that drives him to kill. One thing piles on top of the next, frustration turns to anger, anger turns to rage. He doesn’t mean to hurt people, but when he gets so worked up, theres nothing that can stop him. All he can see is red until he’s snapped back into reality and sees the red staining his hands and his favorite robe. With you, all you had to do was walk into his office after a few bads days in a row, more bad news in tow, and that’s all it took. He loses his temper on you before your brain can even register that you should run. Before you can even scream. He’s not particularly a weapon guy, he’s more likely to choke you to death or anything he can do with his hands. If he feels so inclined, he’ll grab the nearest solid object to crush you with. He feels remorse, in the end, but still covers it up and hushes the room when they speak about your disappearance. Decently classic case of homicide - its usually someone you know, crime of passion, unplanned.

Papa II: This one hurt me very deeply to write. His case was classic, when he was a kid. Everyone says that when an adult loses it, you could tell from the time they were a kid that they had cracks - too abnormal, or too perfect. Papa had odd behavior but Nihil never had him tested or even looked at for anything because his ego got in the way, and nothing could possibly be wrong with his son. And nothing was really wrong with him. Something just wasn’t right. He felt things strongly: love, hate, depression, elation, anxieties. Sometimes it was too strong for him to cope. Sometimes he would turn to things that would help him deal with the emotional rollercoaster he couldn’t get off of. Other people just got on with him. He started smoking weed in his twenties. That wasn’t enough. He started drinking heavily at 25. By thirty that wasn’t enough either. Stronger, more potent vices were what he needed. Cocaine. Heroin. Anything to make him feel okay - anything to make him feel. And you, you were the light of his life. The only good thing he’d ever known. You were the only person he had met who could keep up with him, but keep him safe at the same time. But eventually you got swept up in the parties and drugs and drinking too. Lost more control as the months and years passed. And one night he thought you were pussing out. Not being fun. That you were being boring and killing his mood. He pushed you until you did more lines, and kept pushing you and pushing you until your nose began to bleed. But he was so gone he didn’t realize. He pushed you and you accepted it because it was the first time you had ever truly been afraid of him. When you overdosed and died on the couch in the living room of your shared apartment, Papa had already passed out in the bedroom. It was three days before he sobered up enough to wake, and when he found you, he called the police and said there’d been a murder. But he knew what happened. He knew what he did. Cocaine has a funny way of making things stick like that. He hung up the phone, and before the police could arrive, took his own life the same way he took yours. 

Papa III: In the beginning, he has a silly little crush. He steals glances your way. He brushes up against you and makes you blush. As you two talk more, he falls deeper. You two become a couple, an item. You tell each other you love them. Years could pass. You move in together. You don’t notice any cracks in him, but he sees them in the relationship. He saw you talking to the new guy at work today. What’s that, you had lunch with him? That’s interesting. He sees the way you look at the barista when he says your name, and hands you your coffee. You say he makes it the best. He sees the way your friends look at him. He goes through your phone once, when you’re sleeping, and doesn’t find anything. he kicks himself for months about invading your privacy and promises himself that he’s going to stop digging. But he can’t tear himself away. When youre in the other room, he’ll go through your purse. The next time he sees you smile at another man in passing, when you get home he confronts you. you say he’s being crazy. he says your crazy for cheating on him. he just loves you. cant you see? he loves you. when he finally chains you to the radiator in the bedroom so you won’t leave him, you’re shocked at how a man you once loved could be this way. When he finally kills you he’s begging you, with his hands around your throat, to understand that he’s not a bad person. He's not a bad person. He's not a bad person. He’s not a bad person.

Cardinal Copia: He stalks, but never gets close. Not like III. He’s aware of the mistakes of his predecessors. He’s smarter than that. More calculating. He would learn you schedule - morning routine, where you work, what you eat, when you get home, night routine, how long you sleep for. When you touch yourself. When you see your friends. At first it was from interest, but he begins to hate you. The way you walk, the way you talk, who you love, who you hate. And he wants you dead for it - but he wont be hasty, no, he’s still smarter than that. he has to remain calm and collected to pull this off. Hate you as much as he wants, he still knows you’re smart. Not as smart as him, but smart. Its thursday night, and you’re home alone getting ready to go out to the new bar in town with your friends. he climbs into the kitchen through a window he knows you leave unlocked for when you yourself forget your keys and need to break in. In the end, he slits your wrists with a knife he pulled from the wooden block on the counter. Good thing he followed you to work and school, he knows your handwriting wonderfully. He watches you bleed out on the floor while he writes your suicide note. You have never met him in your life. Good thing he always wears those gloves to keep everything clean of fingerprints, because the cops never suspect any foul play, and no one has a clue.

Swiss: He doesnt get close to his victims - he doesn’t have time. When you’ve gone through this many people, you start to forget their names, if you even knew them from the start. He takes jobs as an assassin when he needs the money - and it does pay well - but whenever he needs to blow off steam he’ll really go at it. Get creative. He’s a weapons guy, gun by choice but he’ll really use anything, and he knows each in his collection very very well. But in his eyes he isn’t doing anything wrong, he’s killing people that deserve to die, for good reasons (Edward Cullen who??). Racists, fascist, misogynists, homophobes. He was on the news once for throwing a brick at a nazi. You’re the anomaly on his list of victims though. You were an accident of sorts. He got sloppy with one of his jobs, got noticed, and the vic took a hostage - cue you walking into the back room at work at the wrong time - the only way he can get his shot in without risking his own life or alerting others is to shoot right through you. And now that he’s been noticed, he can’t give up the job and run. He memorizes the details of your face before he pulls the trigger, and kills you and the man with his arms around your torso in one shot. He feels the worst out of everyone. Attends your funeral, but stands very far back. Something about your face, the look in your eyes when you died. He thinks about you often, for a long time. When the exact dip of your nose and contours of your cheekbone begin to fade, he pulls a picture of you he cut from the newspaper from a shoebox under his bed. If he regrets any of the bad things he’s done in his life, it was hurting you.

Aether: He’s the one you don’t expect and he knows it. He’s the cult leader of the group - but that doesn’t make sense. He’s not even a leader in any capacity. He’s no Papa, not even a Cardinal. He doesn’t even lead the ghouls, really. But people trust him, and respect him, and that’s enough. The most pull he has in the church is being what you would compare to an advisor for the cardinal. helps him make decisions here and there. They get more drastic as things go on, and the church slowly burns itself down, but Copia is the only one people blame, including Copia, because Aether makes him believe every choice he made was his own idea. Eventually, when the cardinal has become useless, Aether will have him removed. By whatever means he has to take, but ideally not murder, it’s too early to have blood on anyone else's hands in his name, and far too early to have blood on his own hands. Aether promises to rebuild the name of the church, and fix everything the cardinal destroyed, and make things better.. Make people happy, and health again. And every single person drinks the kool-aid. Soon, rather than worshipping any Dark Lord or Old God, people are worshipping Aether. People believe in him with their hearts and souls. People believe he’s the savior. You are the anomaly. You were close with Aether before all of this started, before he was even the cardinal’s advisory. You just think the power has gone to his head, and blame the cardinal with the rest of him. But when you start digging, you realize it’s been his plan all along to have complete and total power To start his own cult. To be worshipped like a god in a place that was built for it. Your death is a stepping stone on the path for Aether to achieve ultimate power, but of all the stones cast, yours was the only one that meant anything. He didn't want to have to kill you. He didn't want you to defect, and put everything he'd worked so hard for at risk. He couldn’t have that. But the road to his ultimate power ends with his own death too - you can’t really be appreciated for everything good you've done for the world until you die, and he knows that. But until then, he will think of you often.

Dewdrop: Kills you for sexy reasons. Not because you wont sleep with him, or he wants to actually hurt you, but because you both got too swept up in the moment. There’s a movie called Sexual Predator and he’s pretty much the guy in that. One minute he’s got his belt wrapped around your throat, tugging on it hard while he’s hitting it from behind. He’s too caught up in the moment to realize you’ve gone limp on the bed. He doesn’t realize anything is wrong until he finishes. And it’s bad. Oh it’s bad. Unlike every other crime he’s committed, he calls the police, and he’s honest about what happened. He’s disgusted with himself. He’ll never have sex again. He’ll never wear a belt again. He’ll never touch another person’s throat again. He’s sentenced twelve months incarcerated along with probation and some hefty fines. Everyone knows what he did, how he did it. You were friends with all his friends - You weren’t together, but you were friends. And they all know he killed you. If any of the above are likely to have their own suicidal thoughts after the murder, Dew is the most likely to do it. He can’t stand the way everyone treats him after he did it. He can't stand living knowing what he did to you and what hes capable of. He can’t go on like this.

Cirrus & Cumulus: When they kill it’s for each other. In a LOT of other HCs i mention that II’s solution to things is to simply “kill them” if they’re bothering you, but the girls actually just do it. If someone touches Cirrus in a club, Cumulus will absolutely pull a gun out of her back pocket and blow their brains out right there. Good thing for the masks. They’ll spend the next few months or years on the road, saying under the radar until it’s safe to go home again. The ghoulettes have a lot in common with Swiss - they kill for what they believe to be a good reason. The difference is that Cirrus and Cumulus aren’t opposed to the more gorey ways of doing it. Torture, manipulation, blackmail, you name it they’ve probably done it. They know a lot of dirty things about a lot of big people, and at their whim they could have all their hearts desire. Trouble is, knowing everyone’s secrets is just a little bit more fun than that. They’ll kill to protect their friends and family, anyone who has ever unintentionally hurt an animal, and anyone that’s standing in their way. They’ll even collaborate with Swiss on a job if it’s gonna take some more elbow grease, and he needs people he can trust to get the job done without leaving behind a crumb trail of evidence.

- Kat

[negativefate]

rambling stream of consciousness essay i wrote to myself dec 29, 2014

listening to harsh noise music while driving down the highway i had just taken off at 630 from my house and before that woken up at 5 to get ready and finish cleaning the last set of things and before that leaving a party at kevins house and not telling anyone that i wasn't going to be there for new years and causing disappointment and before that seeing a show at dead leaf with a great 8bit band at the end and before that walking back and forth to the liquor store to get some beer and before that awkwardly getting dinner after my cousin came to visit when we probably should have gotten dinner with them and then before that i am cleaning up the basement again, organizing stupid cables, making a couple old devices work which is fun, but is it worth the time spent even? if not, then is my time on this planet even fucking worth it or am i just making trash like i believe these actual physical well designed objects that come to my home are so jump to me landing in kansas city and here i put on a tape just to get in the mood again i get there only an hour after landing i clumsily look up directions to get to jacks house on my phone i find there’s a bus that gets me there for fuckin a dollar fifty and i give them 2 and they give me a ticket for 50 cents back i ride the bus and i'm pretty tired for lack of sleep, and we drive through some weird semi industrial areas that are sparsely developed yet there are people getting on and off the bus fairly consistently i almost don't even notice who is getting on and off and at one point i look back to the back of the bus and see that i don't remember hardly any of the people getting on one person is looking back at me with a mousey face i typify some of these midwest people's looks certain women especially have a certain look that just reminds me of various nondescript porn actresses or something i start reading a economics book and it talks about oil prices and how scarcity reflects prices and is a major signal to the economy it is an interesting point of view but i look for holes in the logic because it seems obviously presenting a plain vewpoint it is clear that the US for example doesn't give a fuck about scarcity or perhaps the signalling system is so degraded that there is a runaway development the roads are overbuilt the cars are overrunning the roads if i take the face value economic view that this is a supply and demand problem i see it as a very perverse value system that rewards wasting they clearly even mention that soviet economies have gross inefficiencies and if we reflect on our own inefficiency it's clear to see that we are not perfect i feel that the author should have made this more clear i notice that i passed a street that i saw on my map (wyanadote) and while i didn't think it was "already" time to get off, several people are standing for several city blocks instead of sitting waiting to get off therefore I realize perhaps we're at a central location and certainly we are I stumble a couple blocks from the "main transit center" to another crossing on wyanodote, and i pass several office buildings with retail space that is broken down on the first floors first an eye doctor shop, filled with eye product ads but being torn to pieces otherwise then a sandwich shop, with dark cloudy windows and closed signs and a vibe of a previous generations comfort food when i reach the bustop at the streets that i had spotted on my map i was pleased and the troost bus came almost instantly i didn't understand how to scan my transfer so the lady did it for me, and i was acting bashful she was wondering if i knew it was the troost bus and i said yes i was wondering if that question was loaded i rode the bus in the front and looked at all the people that got on and off as we went towards jacks house we passed a row of two story townhouses that were red and white and repetitive that just looked like a dead end life situation for successful people i remembered my talk with my dad about retirement plans and investing money and about how i was literally thinking of blowing my brains out rather than do that and how i was yet again thinking about suicide in the bus i didn't even take it seriously but the vividness of me blowing my fucking head off was really awful i finally started recognizing some troost landmarks and scrambled off the bus i gave my ticket to a guy that wanted a transfer and he lamented being late for the bus that i just got off i don't know how to respond to this very well but wished him luck i walked up to jacks house and there are birds and squirrels and life just running wild there it is bright and sunny though a bit chilly (maybe 40 deg) and all these animals just were simply flourishing i walk inside through a couple closed doors and find my keys in the decorative chicken ornament i was surprised to also find several condoms inside the chicken, which was really amusing (e.g. the rooster...cock...haha) then i sat for a minute and petted the cat i wondered why the cat wasn't outside killing all the abundant wildlife whatever i was wearing three jackets because i was convinced that frontier would charge me for stuffing my jacket in my backpack and making it oversized in reality they didn't appear to care but they charge 50 dollars for a goddamn carry on that wasn't declared so i didn't risk it so i take off several layers and start my car i find where i left several of the christmas presents that I had meant to bring back home in the trunk and sort of kick myself for it i consider taking my car to a dealership to get it fixed up but have no idea where i also consider getting some food somewhere but decide to just hit the road i'm fairly tired still so i decide the stop off at fast food a couple miles out of town during the ride i am listening to some shitty talk radio about some guys that are talking about their "online trading academy" for stock trading i pull over and get some mountain dew, burrito and gasoline. slurping reality blub sucker is all i am at that moment. i do a couple stretches but it doesn't really feel very good. i am still listening to the radio in the parking lot and i notice that they replay recorded segments of themselves suggesting it is not at all a live show. at that point i decide it's time to blast the "white eye of winter" cassette and just start driving. i decide intentionally to start making stream of consciousness analogies to the noises instead of just letting it wash over me in some nonverbal stupidity i realize music journalists are probably better than me at this but i take some interest in just naming the feelings that i get so I'll repeat that hear a full spectrum white wash starts and then quickly gets crushed into a rumbling full force debase attack that's totally intentional about getting a skull crushing sound "large numbers of priests that were administrating the gulags were arrested and presumed killed" "others were sent to the labor camps...and suffered more slowly...assumed to be part of stalins fringe" a demented drum sound with a short delay time and extremely high feedback pounds and is absorbed by a sea-worthy hiss that fuzzes out and pounds once again to a deep drum a wind swept saturation takes hold and kills everything around it dead leaves litter the ground like there was never life anyways a thin veneer on the surface of our planet oscillations that never even really meant anything the dark fades away...like a comet that is completely grey....without color next a dirty fucking liquid sounds like it's being squeezed through a rubber feeding tube and a vaguely operatic chorus sings in the background, lulliby for a screaming nightmare some full bodied drone hovers over the chorus and takes the 17th century in it's arms and lays it gently to rest, taking each of the sharp moments, the sick deaths, the negative atrocity culture, and bringing it up onto a safer place, one where the only thing that matters is th industrialization of our times the industrialization has replaced any notion that feelings matter, any notion that a fair working environment is something that people deserve we could give retards something to do but it's already done and if you go up the ladder you see more and more things have been automated away you don't think about the roads being built do you? you don't think about the farms that cover 80+ percent of arable land do you? even when you're flying from new york to LA you don't hardly notice that humans have claimed this land for themselves scintillation frequency evokes this convulsive thought control that rises into a nasty chemical haze that demands more resources it's silenced into yet another flailing drippy sound fade out

a electric whip takes the stand fucking whining about the deprivation of resources and stuggles to make some connection fiercely spitting out brief moments of feedback between any number of frequencies that it can communicate on with an aether with non-existant endpoint it takes on more and more endpoint arcing back on itself and driving the frequencies into logical conundrums that antirepel itself and howl into additional painful derivative maneuvers it makes no difference to the machine what the effects of it's energy is being expended on, but only that some noise is being made taken astray leading reclamation of a formerly _done wrong_ system that is now instantaneously trashed and thrown under to make way for something more unplanned more unrelenting in it's consumption of power and antisocial connectivity whining and crying you see tear droplets form in the wave spectrogram taking a full 90 seconds to develop from a mixture of waveforms into a coherent pattern at your notification level notification level that is aloof from what you are supposed to be paying attention to but is instead wired into the inverse avoidance pattern the end the beginning once more gain blasting the appearance of nothing into a oscillation that has wavelengths spanning over years in time \ the bright lightning shatters a dark blank sentimental moment between us vaccum heavy rain sucks the white light from the heavens turning your back onto the keloid frostbite fallow bulbous pulsing face  trancerotten yellow drainage trapnell decade trip fucker stumble block meaningless powernazi storm chaser populace chain reveals a mathematical rule. a pseudoconsistent logic to resolve fndamental curry's paradox from thin air what you thought was a clumsy blind behemoth is now an industrialized system that seemingly stands on it's own regardless of what yo even thought your very presence is nothing more than that like a dinosaur a placement that just gives you a central prominence as i start the other side the lull the powerful lull of harmonics drilled deep into the subcortex drilled deep into the somnambulist deity that rocks the beddy-bye to sleep that keeps the sharp reality away for at least some time for that reality of simple nature, the spikes of inedible plant matter, the vast nothingness that humans have somehow decided is rightfully theirs. homesteaded one small plot at a time until the federal government stepped in and purchased the large swaths of land a musical pattern that resembles a shaman opening and closing it's arms above it's head and taken drumming starts thathits something that's the vbrational equivalent of a untuned drum mode across an entire flood basin drumming starts that calls into question or owner ship of that land and the melodic butterfly that was once a welcome sight is now almost  gone a tick tock dog growl gargling on some infected bacteria sinus cavity occupies the entire space you can hardly remember what things that you thought reckless distasteful nonsense squanders what was left of your vague fact driven storyline a sigh of relief ahlzagailzeguh stomps something fierce onto the mixing floor and drives metallic shards of broken dreams into the woodwork you don't think about who built your house did you/ why do you think you are worth anything to the other people around you when i say you am i actually referring to myself? i'm just desperately trying to offload my stupidity onto someone else? what is vulnerable to critique? i sit almost braindead when i face some of the most important situations yet when something is inconsequential i can leap into action and hurl retarded insults atpeople who don't deserve it like this girl that played prince at a party for like 4 hours i walked up to her and nearly choked her lights out and when she closed the computer i said no! play something else! i proceed to chose a random song that i thought was good off of youtube and then i proceed to just stand there and drunkenly creep on some peoples conversation wishing i could have just chosen a song that was better it's not my fault right? no, it is... there's a huge societal expectation that can't handle you being this way there's a roaring electric god that isn't going to cradle you in your arms while your social environment sees you as if you were a crying baby on an airplane take just a couple things at a time put them "in their right place" maybe then you won't have a crushing retardation lingering over everything you touch repeat this ad nauseum don't think for a minute that you can "escape" this reality you're "personal experiences" (your vacation, your hanging out with friends) is so far deviated from your systematically disassociated life happenstance that your better off to just give the middle finger to everyone and everything until it's over until it's over and you drop a sharp process into the ground and levitate transgressional power you can physically and mentally fail during this tremble weirdly under the occipital signal tension  drab naked torbid flippant crater wield two basic components and when suddenly connected create a huge imbalance that sends flux reeling superintensely into the weak painless skinless meat proper happenstance flayed skinless animal carcass rotting spongiform encephalitis eschera coli sacchromyces schizophrenia pombe river blindness parasite trapped nderneat the helencaste psycholayer obligate individual disease question i never know what to say