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reds-writings · 3 months

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rust cohle headcanons

(pairing: rust cohle x fem!reader)

a/n: here's some more rust brain rot on my behalf <3 feedback is always appreciated!

warnings: implications of sex, light cursing, etc. let me know if i missed anything! (minors shoo!)

word count: roughly 1k

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adding to the headcanon floating around of him being an acts of service type man through and through. yes, he can go on neverending tangents but sometimes words about his more sentimental/mushy feelings are better demonstrated by him being at your near beck and call whenever you’re in need

you don’t even have to directly ask him to do anything. it’s more like if you were to mention offhand that something in your car didn’t sound right or your fence needed some redoing they’d find themselves fixed within the coming days without so much as another word

that man is crafty and i cannot be convinced otherwise! the little beer can people he made are just a small example of what he can do with his hands. one day in town you saw a beautiful chestnut dining table but it was just a tad out of your price range so you figured you’d save up a little more for it and get it the next time you stopped by

rust had some downtime (more like made downtime during his bouts of extreme insomnia) and got to building. it was a while after and by that time you had long forgotten about the table you saw until one day you got home from work only to find an ornately designed table in your dining room. it was a bit different than the one you’d spotted at the shop but no less beautiful. in fact it was even more gorgeous with its polished shine and intricate details

you had searched for a note or maybe even a sign left anywhere of the maker that it came from to then spot a neatly carved ‘RC’ underneath one of the tabletop’s lefthand corners

your fingers grazed over the simple set of initials as your brain damn near short-circuited at the fact that this man built you a damn table. with his bare hands. rust cohle saw that you liked a table and decided to just make it himself

you’d made your way to the receiver on your wall after snapping out of your disbelief and rang him up

“You built me a table.” You said it more as a statement than a question instead of a normal greeting.

“I did.” His tone held no sense of pride or smugness at your shock. As if this were no big deal at all.

“You built me a table. When did you have time to build me a whole table? In fact, when’d you start bein’ able make tables in the first place-”

“D’ya like it?” He interjected in that lackadaisical way of his and you paused.

“...I love it.”

“Good.”

“Well, I guess then it’d only be fair for me to invite you over for dinner so that we may put this lovely new table to good use. As thanks of course.”

You heard him huff in fond amusement on the other line, “Yes, ma’am.”

y’all put that table to good use alright

he’s more of a grappler than a cuddler when it comes to sharing a bed

he holds you as if in need of tethering himself. it was as if he were to let go somehow this wouldn’t be real and your presence would flit away should he loosen his grip at any given moment

if you get too hot in the night any point of minimal contact was still initiated like tangling your foot with his or linking pinkies just so he knew you were nearby (this happens longer down the line in your relationship when he feels a bit more comfortable having someone in his space a bit more constantly)

quality time together isn’t necessarily always spent doing something totally stimulating or exciting

it could be as simple as cooking dinner together or curling up on your sofa while he reads and you watch something soapy on television

he’s a very private man so going out to do something super couple-y isn’t really up his alley. he won’t really ever deny you if you wanted to really switch it up and go to places like bars, the movies, fancy restaurants, etc. he’d just find himself more reserved in more public spaces but no less completely and utterly focused on you

he’s not much of a dancer but don’t get it twisted. his ass can dance. the man is from Texas so you best believe he has more than a few line-dancing routines ingrained in the depths of his mind

on the very few occasions you’ve gotten him to agree to dance with you when you’re out you nearly laugh every time with how seriously he takes it

you find yourself cooking food for him often. not that he ever expects it of you but living off of cigarettes and beer can only do so much for a guy. he genuinely forgets that his body needs a meal when he gets all caught up in his work (you don’t bother nagging at him much because he’s grown and more stubborn than anything at times)

if you aren’t available to check in on him you’re not above making Marty grab something for him when they’re stuck at work

any kiss he gives you is not one made in passing. anything rust does has some level of deep intent behind it but he never kisses you or says ‘i love you’ out of routine or empty habit

he’s a deeply feeling guy and a lot more handsier the longer you’re together (usually still only in the privacy of your own home). it goes back to just having to feel tethered or connected to you! it comforts the more broken/scared bits of him knowing that you’re just there and present and real

his synesthesia can make things overwhelmingly intense so sometimes when you’re out or after certain activities he finds himself in need of longer moments to himself (which you never take personally)

in less serious moments you find yourself asking him the dumbest questions you can about smelling colors or tasting places

“So does that mean Marty’s got a taste to him? You've tasted your coworker?” You snickered as you lay beneath the weeping willow in your front yard with him.

“It don’t work like that.” He said around the unlit cigarette in this mouth, tone sounding as if he were entertaining a silly child.

“Nuh-uh! You said somethin’ awhile back about my presence tastin’ like jasmine and clementines or somethin’-”

“Drop it.”

You poked your tongue in your cheek trying not to giggle.

“I bet you Marty tastes like stale coffee and I dunno…regret-” You snapped out a surprised laugh as you felt a quick pinch on your side.

#rust cohle x reader #rust cohle imagine #true detective season 1 #matthew mcconaughey #true detective imagine #rust cohle headcanons #rust cohle #reds-writings

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rainswept · 7 months

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you ask for Fontaine brain rot/reqs, I deliver.

So idk if you've done the recent archon quest and lyney/lynette story quest so if you haven;t be careful caus i will be spoling !

That part where Lyney is freaking out over Freminet and Lynette had me SCREAMING especially since ive done their story quest AND ALSO FRIENDSHIP 10 LYNEY SO I HAVE THE LORE AND IT HURTS SM but I won't spoil all that for u-

so anyways, i started thinking, imagine Lyney has a lover who's been with the siblings for years (and also works for Arlecchino) and is considered another sibling by Lynette and Freminet. They were also diving with Freminet when they encountered water from the primordial sea

now imagine clorinde can only take one person with her at a time when she pulls them back, and she saves Freminet first, later going back for Lyney's s/o

Eventually Freminet wakes up like he does in the quest, but the reader just.. doesn't. Hours pass and the siblings are freaking tf out because they don't want to lose anyone.

(now I can't decide if I crave angst or if I want to comfort my babies so ill give my headcanons for both shiguegoe)

angst: Lyney's lover keeps deteriorating, parts of them gradually turning blue and quite literally withering away (caus you know the water and the dissapearances- yeah-) and the siblings can do nothing but watch

Lynette shuts down more frequently and for longer periods, not even saying anything to Lyney

Freminet blames himself for not noticing sooner, for not getting them out sooner

And then there's Lyney.. he blames himself for not only putting his siblings in danger, but losing his lover...

He sits by their bed watching as they wither away, holding their hand. He knows Father will be upset by his lack of comitment to the mission but he can't bring himself to care

The day they pass, no one says a word. They continue with their mission, report to Father, go on with their Fontainian lives until they're alone and they cry. they cry and scream and curse whatever archons or god's are listening.

AND NOW BEFORE I CRY THE HAPPIER VERSION

After days of not waking up, they finally open their eyes.

Lyney is fretting over them asking if they know where they are, who he is, what happened etc

now to throw in a tidbit of angst, what if they awoke with some disability? like they cant see anymore, they can't hear properly, cant walk properly etc

Lyney and Freminet would devasted because they blame themselves. Lynette would be quick to remind her brothers at least everyone is alive.

It'd be bad because with a disability, they can't work for Father anymore, or at least not the way they used to

AHHEOGUHEOG im stuck in a neverending brain rot my guy

Anyways. I was actually going to request for you to write your own take on this but you don't have to if you dont want- even just hearing your take would be nice lmao

also if its ok i reallly wanna be mutuals! I just found you blog and im obssesed!! I really wanna be friends<3

NO BECAUSE I SCREECHED SO LOUD MULTIPLE TIMES READING THIS !! THANK U SO MUCH YES OFC I WANNA BE MUTUALS/FRIENDS!! genuinely absolutely made my day to have u ask that oh my god??

also don’t worry about spoiling anything for me, i’ve read every little bit of lyney/lynette/freminet lore out there 😭 and i’ve done all of the new fontaine archon quests already (i need help. it’s okay though!)

as for angst — u know me so well already this is my forte. cracks knuckles here i go

freminet feels as if something is off.

already beginning to panic, he turns to you in a hurry. the water swishes in his ears. when you meet his gaze, wide-eyed, the gut ‘feeling’ turns into a full-blown punch to it. oh, now he realizes; he can’t breathe. his heart’s racing, chest tightening and throat feeling as if it’s closing up.

you reach out, and exchanging unspoken words, you two turn around and make to retrace your patterns with haste. hand in hand, you race against frittered time; but even your best efforts are not enough, and the both of you are forced to acknowledge it when freminet’s vision begins to turn spotty.

he got in the water first; he’s gone before you are. his body floats limp beside you as you drag him along through the water, even as the surroundings grow hazy for you, too. a cold tingle runs up your spine as you consider the possibility; is this the end?

(when you had left for the pipes, the most you had exchanged with lyney was a quick kiss on the cheek as a goodbye. that wouldn’t do.)

but even as you try desperately to cling to life .. the “sea” is a cruel thing, and it does not care for your mortal frivolities. (a proper goodbye? .. foolish.) with cold, disorienting water enveloping your senses from all sides, your only grounding thing being freminet’s (rapidly cooling) fingers against yours — it didn’t take long before you succumbed to the “sea”, too.

(your last thought as the world went dark was “i’m sorry.”)

(even in your barely conscious state, you feel another wave of panic surge through you when freminet’s fingers slip away from yours — but you don’t have enough energy to hold on.)

reader lives:

the incessant thrum of the water rushing through pipes rattled in your ears. your whole body was sore, weak and tired; and all of your limbs felt like lead attached to you via shoddy workmanship. your head hurt like hell, and what’s worse is that the moment you opened your eyes, you were immediately met with the sight of the three people you cherished most.

first, there was freminet, who was sitting on the bed opposite to yours. his posture fixes from a slouch into proper the moment he spots you, perhaps in.. excitement? shock? you weren’t sure. his eyes lit up, though.

second, there was lynette. she was .. a bit more on edge than usual. that was .. to be expected, of course, but really. you were out for.. what, an hour or two? come on, all four of you put yourselves in danger all the time. what was different about this?

(what was different was the fact that you were not out for an hour or two. no, make that days. they were sure to remind you of this.)

then, there was lyney. for him, the world seemed to stop.

lyney, who was pacing the room in sheer desperation. he walked and walked, boots timed and in tune with the clocks and dripping water from the pipes. in his nervousness, he had unwittingly created a quite fitting melody.

(the only sounds once he ceases walking are the clocks and the water dripping from the pipes.)

lyney, who had rushed to your bedside the moment he had noticed you were up. he looked exhausted, but the second you were awake the mask was .. attempted .. to be put back on. however .. it didn’t take someone as observant as you, or even one who knew him so well, to notice that it was placed crooked.

(how absurd he looked, trying to put on a front everyone in the room knew was one.)

why, even, you would have bet that it could’ve been surmised by a child. once again, emphasis on ‘you would have’, for there was no time for thinking about that when he rushed to your bedside and enveloped you into an embrace. you didn’t miss the way his fingers grasped at the back of your shirt in downright desperation.

(in clear, bold letters, it reads; “if nothing else, please let this be real.”)

he slots himself beside you and, wordlessly, holds you close. he doesn’t need words — neither of you do. this is enough.

lynette and freminet looked on, neither of them opening their mouths when lyney buries his face into the crook of your neck and stays there for just a bit too long. he doesn’t cry. instead, he whispers shakily against your skin; “i thought i’d lost you.”

(the only sounds once he ceases speaking are the clocks and the water dripping from the pipes.

(no one speaks up just yet.)

(the only sounds in the room are the clocks and the water dripping from the pipes.)

(you’re starting to think those were the only sounds ever there.)

when he finally pulls away, you notice he’s fixed his mask. lyney now smiles, and the shake in his voice is gone; but you know it’s not all better, not when he refuses to leave the infirmary even after sigewinne and the traveler inquire. you know it’s not all better, not when the four of you are alone again. lyney sits beside you on the bed, refusing to so much as stand up (he doesn’t want to let go of your hand. you don’t comment on it, but his fingers are still shaky as he holds onto yours like they’re a lifeline.)

you don’t exchange as much as a single word after that. you just bask in each other’s presence, apologies and pleas and “i love you” shared during every lingering glance between everyone in the room.

the four of you don’t need words. this is enough.

reader dies:

seven mistakes went unnoticed. seven signs went unfollowed. seven things (and five people) went wrong that day.

one: freminet.

it was entirely freminet’s fault, he thinks, it was. if only he had gotten you out of there in time. no — he shouldn’t have even brought you. he sits on the infirmary bed opposite to yours, knees pulled up to his chest, and he clutches pers with a death grip. he dips his head in such a way that his face is hidden with his hair; he doesn’t want to let lyney and lynette see him in this state. they have enough to deal with.

two: the primordial sea.

but they were bound to notice eventually, right?

“it was entirely the primordial sea’s fault,” lynette would remind, hand on freminet’s shoulder. “it wasn’t yours.”

the primordial sea. the cold and vicious waters were such a contrast to those he held so dear; what was typically calming and merciful turned to something suffocating and terrifying. but that didn’t change the fact that it was an inanimate thing.

he drops pers at the contact; it clatters to the floor; he looks down, wide-eyed and apologetic; he reaches down to pick it up. lynette does not put her hand on his shoulder again.

three: wriothesley.

“it was entirely wriothesley’s fault,” lyney wants to scream. he’s frantic, pacing the infirmary and voice cracking every time he speaks. lynette and freminet have seldom seen him so panicked. he needs to do something, he needs— he can’t. he can’t leave. once he gets his hands on wriothesley, he swears he’ll—

four: clorinde.

it was entirely clorinde’s fault. it was entirely her choice to pick only one of you to save. no one can bring themselves to be upset at her, for she did try to save both of you. but the realization slowly dawns upon the three children of the house of the hearth still with a steady heartbeat; it was either going to be you or freminet.

they realize this at different times. every time they do, they exchange a silent, quick glance.

freminet would’ve gladly given up his life. lyney and lynette, however .. they would not have been able to choose.

five: the gods.

it was entirely the gods’ fault. curse the gods, lyney thinks. he’s still pacing the room, and while he never put much stock in the divine, he was practically yelling at them now. he knew it wasn’t logical. but he needed something. what was the point of a god if not to help their people? what was the point of a god if just to watch people suffer like it’s an opera?

was she here now? was she watching? was this a “twist” for her? did she delight in this?

six: lyney.

it was entirely lyney’s fault. he shouldn’t have let you or freminet go. he shouldn’t have. he shouldn’t have let wriothesley play him like he was a deck of cards in his hands. this was all his fault. all his fault. he knew of the prophecy, dedicated his whole life to it — and yet hadn’t managed to save you from its clutches?

seven: you.

in truth — it was no one’s fault. but lyney is still pacing the room, breathing getting heavier and more rapid every time he steals a glance at you. lynette’s eyes still trace his every move, conveniently ignoring the sight of you as best she could; and freminet still has his face buried in his knees as to not look at your decaying body.

none of them can deal with the fact that it was simply an accident. no one meant for this to happen — there was no one to blame.

they needed someone to blame.

so each and every one of them blamed themselves. as lyney’s fingers grasped your cold ones, he squeezed them softly even as they began to turn blue beneath his grasp. he couldn’t bare to let you go.

and after three long days, the sun rose to find your bed empty where you had laid. you were nowhere to be found. for a moment, lyney’s heart practically leapt out of his chest, wondering .. did you get up?

but as he rushes to the bedside, his face falls. he should’ve known not to get his hopes up.

the blankets were damp where you had laid, soaked with water just as the stage in the opera epiclese had been.

lyney didn’t cry, nor did lynette or freminet.

they didn’t exchange so much as a word the day you died.

instead, they put their aching hearts and empty souls into the mission at hand. they worked twice as hard to distract themselves, and they provided excellent results for “father” — but they had barely worked together to do so.

they exchanged cold words and they held each other at night, when the pain became too much — because as much as they tried to pretend like nothing happened, that was a lie, just as the rest of their existence — but there was no mistaking it. they were now divided.

there was always you. and now there wasn’t.

lynette was the one who informed “father” of your .. whereabouts. lyney couldn’t bring himself to.

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wub-fur-radio · 4 months

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Same Old Old Thing for the New New Year

Happy New Year! Wub-Fur Internet Radio (now in our 25th year of intermittent internet webcasting) is still up to the same OLD tricks, launching a NEW offensive in the neverending war against nostalgia with this wonderful NEW mix of excellent NEW music for the NEW year. Twenty-one certified indie/garage/punk/post-punk bangers to help get your musical year off to an agreeably noisy and tuneful start. Featuring contributions from Class, Fucked Up, Dream Wife, Tyvek, Protomartyr, Priors, Marnie Stern, Woolen Men, and 13 more cool bands who, like birds tangled up in wires, are trying in their own ways to be free.

No birds or wires were harmed in the making of our cover art (which was created with the Artificial Intelligence which now inhabits Adobe Photoshop). Apologies to the late Leonard Cohen.

▶︎🎶 Listen on Mixcloud – or – 🍎 Music

Running Time: 1 hour, 8 seconds

Tracklist

I Fucked It Up (1:40) — Sparklehorse | Rock ’n’ Roll Heaven

Public Void (3:23) — CLASS | Tucson, AZ

In My Condition (2:28) — Egyptian Blue | Brighton, UK

Orbit (3:30) — Dream Wife | London, UK

One Day (4:59) — Fucked Up | Toronto, Canada

Shadow Slaw (3:23) — Cereal Glyphs | Louisville, KY

What It's For (1:58) — Tyvek | Detroit, MI

Spoiled (2:00) — Woolen Men | Portland, OR

Whispering (2:54) — Tunic | Winnipeg, Canada

Plain Speak (3:11) — Marnie Stern | New York, NY

3800 Tigers (2:22) — Protomartyr | Detroit, MI

Human Reaction (3:49) — mssv | Gainesville, FL

Radio to Forever (2:16) — Upper Wilds | Brooklyn, NY

Grease Rot Chemical (2:05) — GEE TEE | Sydney, Australia

Lousy Company (2:01) — Kitchen’s Floor | Brisbane, Australia

Change (3:56) — Cable Ties | Melbourne, Australia

Daffodil (2:36) — Priors | Montreal, Canada

Lily Pad (2:40) — Pardoner | San Francisco, CA

Don't Become the Enemy (2:14) — Cut Piece | Portland, OR

Give You Back Your Youth (3:20) — Gumm | Chattanooga, TN

Ornament (3:21) — Screaming Females | New Brunswick, NJ

All tracks released in 2023.

#indie rock #garage rock #punk rock #post punk #music mixes #happy new year 2024

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willameena · 1 month

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Nine (or however many) people you'd like to get to know better:

Thank you for the tags, @heretolurkandnothingmore and @nytpicking!! 💖💖 I love hearing all the random little factoids about everyone when these go around! You all are so dang cool, I love everyone in this little pocket of tumblr 🥰

Last song: 1979 by Smashing Pumpkins

Fav color: green

Currently watching: I just finished reading Fight Club, which was amazing and now I want to watch the movie again. So maybe I'll watch that this week! Otherwise, the kids and I watched RoTS and Narnia over the past couple days

Sweet/savory/spicy: savory and spicy! I used to have a sweet tooth, but I lost it after having covid about 1 year ago. I still can't smell, for the most part

Relationship status: I came out as lesbian a year ago, despite being married to a man and having 3 kids. We tried to struggle through plans of separation and divorce for most of 2023 and last month, we decided we would try to continue living together with our kids, but as platonic co-parents. It's not easy and there is a lot of sadness on all sides, but I have 3 kids that I love more than anything in the world, and I just don't want to share custody of them right now, for a variety of reasons. But I'm really happy to be out, finally, at least to some people. So.. Yeah :)

Current obsession: well the ongoing and neverending star wars obsession, but other than that.... my houseplant collection has crossed the line from hobby into obsession I think, haha

Last thing you googled: "will oral antibiotics help pinkeye?" lol fun times over here. Kids and their germs are gross.

No pressure tagging: @lesbianakins @trannakinskywalker @grapenehifics @palfriendpatine66 @kenobster @tideswept @underacalicosky @fangeek-girl @cottonraincoat and anyone else who wants to join, of course 😙😙

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steddiemicrofic · 8 months

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Steddie Microfic August 14th-20th Masterlist

Week 3 was good to us cake lovers!

Just a reminder that if there are any issues with the word count, we reply to the post or direct message you to let you know so you can edit! If you haven't seen yours reblogged yet, check those replies to make sure the word count was right!

Sweet by @pearynice | Rated G | no cw | tags: fluff, toot-rotting fluff

piece of cake by @thefreakandthehair | Rated G | no cw

wood by @vecnuthy | Rated T | no cw | tags: thirst

Mud cakes and pancakes by @mrsjellymunson | Rated T | cw: awkwardness, swearing, innuendo/suggestive language | tags: awkward boys, chef Steve, flirting, getting together

Mrs. Harrington's Birthday Cake by @shares-a-vest | Rated G | cw: angst with a happy-ish ending, Steve has bad parents, food/eating

Just a day by @sky-neverending | Rated G | no cw

The Blame Game by @thruheavenandhighwater | Rated M | no cw

Celebratory by @stardust-walker | Rated T | cw: implied sexual content, hard of hearing Steve

Special Occasion by @medusapelagia | Rated T | cw: injured Eddie

Cake Testing by @steddieasitgoes | Rated G | cw: food

Something sweet, too sweet to eat by @atimeofyourlife | Rated M | cw: eating disorders, toxic diet culture, non-graphic vomiting (self-inflicted)

Always the Goddamn Babysitter (Mary Poppins eat your heart out) by @kissaphobic-kas | Rated G | no cw

save me a slice by @stobinesque | Rated M | cw: sexting, reference to rimming and blowjobs, implied d/s dynamics

Easy as cake by @yellowsweater-bluevest | Rated G | no cw

Big Boy's Birthday by @klausinamarink | Rated T | no cw

Eddie's One Rule by @harmonictechnicality | Rated T | cw: language

A Good Surprise by @metal-dads | Rated G | no cw

the sprinkle by @vecnuthy | Rated T | cw: Steve has a splinter, language | tags: pre-Steddie

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddiemicrofic #steddiemicroficaugust #masterlist

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inafieldofdaisies · 11 months

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WIP Wednesday | Tagged by @jacobsneed <3 | Tagging @adelaidedrubman @thesingularityseries @socially-awkward-skeleton @direwombat @euryalex @detectivelokis @nightbloodbix @aceghosts @madparadoxum @g0dspeeed @trench-rot @josephseedismyfather @josephslittledeputy @theelderhazelnut @purplehairsecretlair @jinfromyarikawa @shegetsburned @clicheantagonist @poisonedtruth @vampireninjabunnies-blog @cassietrn @wrathfulrook @voidika @harmonyowl @strangefable @schoute and anyone with something to share <3

For this Wednesday you all are getting a little something from Sabrina and Savannah (cute as hell) and more of John slowly losing his mind. Then as a bonus because I'm so excited for her: a sneak peek into a new Peggie OC (or is she a Peggie): Mercedes "Mercy" Sibley. Wishing Jacob good luck with that one.

"Rin-Rin, did you see the butterfly! It was so pretty! Not black, though.", Savannah ran over to her, sitting down on the blanket and leaning her head on Sabrina's shoulder, "Ah, I forgot to tell you, John asked me about butterflies?" "He did?" Not giving up on your quest at unraveling all my secrets, eh, Seed? She wasn't too surprised, he was set on figuring as much as possible about her and her sister probably seemed like the path of least resistance when it comes to getting information, especially when she herself refused to share anything. Savannah nodded, "Why does your sister like butterflies?", she tried mimicking John's voice, making Sabrina laugh. "What did you tell him?" "To ask you, silly. I lied that I don't know.", her sister giggled like she had done something quite devious. "You know what I usually say about lying, Sav. But this time… it was the right call." She sighed, "I know. I won't do it all the time like mom, don't worry." "I know, pumpkin. Did he ask anything else?" Savannah titled her head, lips pursed in thought, no doubt quickly going over all her conversations with John since meeting him days back. "We just talked about random stuff, Rin-Rin. But he did ask about uncle Cal…" Of course, can you get more predictable? "What did he want to know about him?" Her sister gave her an amused look, "He asked if he came over a lot, and if he was your boyfriend." "Oh my god. He did not.", Sabrina covered her face with her hands as she took a deep breath. "He did. I told him uncle Cal used to come over for breakfast sometimes, that he brought me things,", she shrugged, "but I have no clue if he is your boyfriend." "And?" Savannah laughed, "I asked him why he wants to know and if he likes you?" "Savannah Mae!" "And he got really quiet. Oh, it was very funny.", a mischievous smile appeared on her face at the memory.

Sabrina shook her head, "What am I going to do with you.", then her tone grew serious, "If he asks anything else that seems weird, you just tell him to talk to me instead, okay? "I don't know, John. Ask her yourself." Okay?" "Of course, Rin-Rin.", her sister's narrowed in curiosity, "Do you like him?", she bumped her shoulder, "It's okay if you like him, even if he's a Peggie." Sabrina shook her head quickly, "It's nothing like that, Sav. He's a friend like uncle Cal, okay?" "Okay.", came out as a reply, then she added, "But… I think he likes yoooouuu." Savannah sign-songed the last part as she jumped back to her feet, her attention grabbed by another butterfly in the distance. Since finding out about what the beautiful insects meant to her, her sister had made it her neverending mission to find a black butterfly. Sabrina's eyes shifted to the ranch, coming to rest on John as he leaned on the balcony's railing. She could sense another one of his intense stares pointed her way. She guessed he must have come out while she wasn't paying attention, too engrossed in the conversation with Savannah. The second their eyes met, a familiar pull stirred in her even from the distance. It was a harsh reminder how much of a lie it was to call whatever happening between them "nothing". He held her gaze for what felt like eternity before turning around and disappearing back inside his room.

John closed yet another notebook, releasing a huff as he put it on top of the pile of finished ones. His frustration was festering more and more at the fact it had been hours of non-stop reading through her notes and so far he hadn't come across anything mentioning him. The whole afternoon he had fought temptation to drop what he was doing and join her outside, the way she stared at him when he allowed himself a brief look, didn't help matters. He was holding himself back from storming out and finding her, demanding to tell him about the visions, to confess if she even had them written down at all. Doubt was creeping in. Are you having a laugh at my expense, Deputy? Is that it? If she in fact hadn't noted anything related to him down, it meant she held all her secrets close, locked away in her mind. He was good at getting those out of people, he would learn everything no matter the way. In attempt to keep his head straight he had slipped back into avoiding her, he couldn't imagine going down for dinner and having to sit across from her… knowing what that would cost him, how it would chip away at his facade. Hours back Savannah cheerfully had brought him food, patting his shoulder as she said, "You're working hard, John, but you also gotta eat.", then she had rushed back out before he could even respond. The house was now quiet, the little one had gone to bed, and he found himself with another situation on his hands. It started with Sabrina's footsteps carrying past his room and fading away until the exterior door opened and shut. Minutes passed in silence, then he heard it, the faint strumming of a guitar, finding a way inside even with his windows closed, then a voice joined. Even muffled it was so melodic, beguiling him to go outside, to stand on the balcony and listen. No. Focus. John didn't give into the urge, knowing if he did, he won't be able to stay upstairs just listening, that he'd end up seeking her presense, and her singing would no doubt push him over the edge. The Project needed him. He had to ensure Calahan Hartley wouldn't destroy everything he had built. He had to make Joseph proud.

Mercy. She hated the meek woman she had to pretend to be, but she was stuck in that life, a Sunk Cost Fallacy of sorts, and she had promised herself she would get revenge no matter the means. When she officially entered the Whitetails, mindlessly following the route marked for her on a worn-out map while a non-cult song played queitly on the radio in the background, she couldn't help but dread the reaction the oldest Seed would have to her arrival. Where Joseph fully bought her lost lamb act and John always managed to force a smile her way no matter how troubling or ingenuine it seemed, while Faith eyed her with slight wary, to the Father's dismay Jacob did his hardest to make it known he disliked his protégé. It wasn't that Mercedes was desperate for the man's approval, it was more the feeling he was seeing through her facade that worried her, but she told herself if that was the case, he would have already said something to Joseph by then.

[...]

Hours later Mercedes found herself parking the car in front of the iron gates of St. Francis Veteran Center and as soon as she stepped a foot past them, one of Jacob's men was rushing at her. "Oh, my,", she feigned a flich at the sight of his weapon, "Didn't the Father warn you I would be arriving?" "He did.", the Chosen reached a hand to her, "Name's Isaac." "Mercy." "Brother Jacob is away at the moment." Mercedes smiled at him and squared her shoulders, "Is this his way of trying to get rid of me without even seeing me? Joseph sent me, so I'm not going anywhere." "He truly is away, sister.", Isaac said with a frown as he rubbed his neck, then muttered, "He knows nothing of your arrival, actually." Well, that should be fun. "Where should I wait for him then?", she asked and took a step around the man, making him block her path again. "Uh,", he stuttered out, looking uncertain, his demeanor telling her she was the last person he wanted to deal with, especially with his boss being unaware of her visit, "His office?" It came out as a question, as if he expected her to bark an order at him. "That would be just fine, thank you.", when he didn't move, she added, "Lead the way, Isaac." That finally snapped the poor guy back into action and he strode off towards the main entrance of the old yellow building, forcing Mercedes to pick up her pace, too. She tried to ignore the cages upon cages on each side of the path. A naive part of her wanted to believe Jacob was keeping wild animals in there, but reality was a bitch. Sunken faces stared back at her paired with the occasional faint plea for help. People. I'm sorry. The sight was a harsh reminder why the simple con job of getting back what Joseph had stolen from her only family had turned into so much more. Why she had given up on her old life and remained undercover for almost 388 days. Her hands gripped her dress in desperation the same way so many bloody hands were holding onto the bars. I will get you all out. Somehow. Just not today.

Isaac held the door open for her, letting her enter the decrepit former hospital first, then followed behind. "We don't get many visitors here.", he explained and took the lead again, "So you're bound to get strange looks from people." The hallways all looked similar and she wondered if his men felt like rats in a maze anytime they navigated the building. Mercedes let out a small laugh, "That's okay." Eventually he stopped in front of a door and gestured inside as he unlocked it, "I'm leaving you in here, sister. Can I trust you won't wander the building if I don't lock you in." She nodded, "Nothing to worry about here, Isaac." He gave her a relieved smile and scrambled to take his leave, "I will have someone bring you a glass of water in a few." Isaac rushed out before she could even mutter a thank you. "Talk about keeping your men on edge.", she said under her breath and shifted her eyes to the room, taking a couple of cautious steps further in. A series of small windows overlooked the fence around the hospital and the vast woods behind it that gave off a false sense of freedom if you only manage to climb over the rusty bars. If even a small portion of what she had heard about Jacob's experiments was true, once you had entered the Vet Center, your free will would be left at the door. His office was sparsely furnished from a worn-out couch, a small bookcase and old desk overflowing with documents with a single chair behind it, to the maps hanging on the walls together with a bloodred poster of him. In it Jacob was pointing with a smug look on his face with "Only You." stamped at the bottom. She ran her hands over her dress out of habit, smoothing out wrinkles that weren't even there while she stared back at the propaganda, wondering if that was the only expression he could ever muster aside from the one of hatred he would always send her way. Well, the feeling is mutual, asshole. Mercedes smiled at the thought, then frowned at how she wasn't able to freely express her dislike like he was. 388 days she wished she could finally go back to her old self and be free of pretending for a short while until the next job would come around and she would slip into a new role. 388 days she dreamed of finally being free of the Seeds. 388 days where she hoped tomorrow would offer her a chance to leave the Project behind her for good.

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her-stars · 1 year

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inside my lungs I gasp for air, my eyes white like the sky. moonlight spun through the trees like spiderwebs. a silver halo shines above so lovely.

she whispers to me begs to pay attention. leaves me sleepless wondering, allowing happiness that love is peaceful and hauntingly beautiful.

my heart rumbles in my chest aching the silence was all I had. the quietness, I close my eyes and let it embrace me. like a prayer the wind waves over my skin through in the palm of my hand. dark gray skies and foggy clouds sprinkled stars.

butterflies whose broken wings mixed with leaves crackled under my feet. scent of pine filled my nose, the shadows of trees and mountains may neverending letting it swallow me.

rain steady drumming against the earth was rhythmic, soothing even. the night forest echoes of the world's creatures creeps nearby.

my bones start to decompose and my heart rots away in my ribcage, the glow of the stars twinkle and dim to black. the woods were my lullaby swaying in the storm's eye. dancing in the night that fills my thoughts. I never felt so alive.

-Faith

A poem inspired by photos I took in the woods during yesterday's storm <3

#wlw blog #wlw poetry #lesbian #dark poetry #rain poem #queer #wlw textpost #dark aesthetic #photography

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go-go-devil · 20 days

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My friend @silenthillmutual tagged me to answer some fic writer's ask game questions, so without further ado...

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

17 as of right now.

2. What is your AO3 wordcount?

181,115

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Mostly Hylics, but I've dabbled in several different fandoms. I've also written for the band Ghost, Pathologic, Knock-Knock, created the Neverending Nightmares tag on AO3 which still only contains the 3 fics I wrote for it, and am currently writing an epic novel-length Dark Souls fanfic!

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1) Outcasts in an Overcast - 109

2) Dedusmuln Uncharted: The Hunt for the Paper Cup - 78

3) Molding A Legacy - 61

4) The Moon is Down - 60

5) Chaos Inverted - 51

Basically most of my Hylics fics lol 🌙 🎸🌯

5. Do you respond to comments?

I always try to respond to every comment I get since it's not often that I get any. There were a few that ended up slipping through the cracks of my memory, and to those I'm sorry since it now feels kinda weird to respond to a comment written years ago, but mostly if you see a comment that I haven't answered it most likely means I've already responded to the person on another social media site.

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

Definitely a tie between The Moon is Down and Chaos Inverted, but frankly that's to be expected since Gibby's such a doomed character. Out of all the blorbos I had to write Shakespearean levels of angst for it somehow ended up being the clay alien who's head looks like an orange and/or zoopals plate XD

7. What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Ironically it's a Pathologic fic I wrote two years ago called Like A Fire Melting Us Down. Basically a hurt/comfort fluff fic featuring Murky and Daniil bonding over both being autistic. It's probably the only fic I've written fic I've written that has a definitively happy ending, as in there's no room for darker speculation for the future or anything like that.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Thankfully no. If anyone out there doesn't like my fics they've done good not to harass me about it.

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

No.

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

The only crossovers I've written thus far both involve the game Knock-Knock; either the Lodger interacting with Thomas Smith from Neverending Nightmares or Daniil Dankovsky from Pathologic.

The latter comes from the fic Intruder, which I'm most proud of of all the crossovers I've done so far, yet I'm kinda surprised no one else has attempted this themselves or entertained the idea of my fic since Knock-Knock was what inspired Pathologic: The Marble Nest to begin with. I guess it's true that there are only 12 Western Knock-Knock fans left on the internet...

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Also thankful this hasn't happened yet.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but if anyone wants to please let me know. I'd be more than happy for my stories to cross language barriers!

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

One time my fellow Hylics fic veteran bombcollar wrote a story called Dedusmuln's Dossier, which is all about Dedusmuln documenting all of the enemies in Hylics 2, and which I contributed two pieces of writing for The Hand of Moodbleen and Carassius! It's an awesome fic I recommend any Hylics fan check out, and I had some good fun thinking of what I wanted them to say about these two uniquely annoying enemies.

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Goddammit I don't fucking know lmao. I don't take shipping as seriously as other people do. For now I'll say Burakhovsky for all the beautiful art I've seen for it, the Hylics crew being in a queerplatonic polycule and, just to throw an insane curve ball at everyone in the room, Siegmeyer/Domhnall ;-)

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

I'm gonna finish 'em all one day. I will not leave my children to rot in the pits of Writer's Block Hell...

16. What are your writing strengths?

I've been told by many people that they tend to really love the way I write dialogue for each of the characters I work with, original or already created. I'm also a lover of environmental descriptions and am always trying to build upon and improve in that aspect into my works.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Probably fight scenes since I've had so little practice, and due to a lot of the books I read not really having that many. I'm hoping To The Accursed can help me improve on that front, since Dark Souls is so heavily combat-oriented.

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

I haven't gone farther than using singular words in other languages as of right now. That's something I'm definitely gonna need to step up on later down the line, particularly since there will be Dark Souls characters I'll be writing soon who will be speaking some sentences in Latin and Welsh respectively.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

The Swedish metal band Ghost! It was a story called For A Divine Cause which was about Papa Emeritus Primo realizing he suffers stage fright right before he's supposed to start touring for the first album, and thus summons his younger brother Terzo to help shape him up into being a good front man.

It's without question the worst of my fics from a writing and technical perspective, but it was the first one I ever wrote so that's kinda to be expected. I am pleasantly surprised it has so many kudos and bookmarks after all these years!

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Honestly, I'm think I'm gonna have to make it a tie between Dedusmuln Uncharted and Chaos Inverted.

The first is the fic where I truly started getting more creative in my writing (and is my first full made podfic which I'm even more proud of!), while the latter was sooooo much fun to write and gave me the confidence to write novellas. The Hylics fandom has been so supportive of my work, and I thank you all for being the best fandom experience I've ever had <3

That was fun! I'll tag @bombcollar, @pinkiepiebones, and @brainshock-alpha for this one ✏️✨

#tag game #my writing #fanfic

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baahsu · 10 months

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ichiji killing judge ALWAYS a+ (ive read your fic about it Many times 😌✊️) but there have been times where I've thought about him THROUGHLY torturing that deadbeat. letting judge live in agony and letting him die slowly, so slow that his death might as well have been considered old age

ofc we gotta imprison that bastard and put the mask on him. even better if its *the* mask, the exact same one that sanji used to wear, not a copy of the model or anything. itd probably be mostly rusted iron by now, laden with infections and filled with dirt and a few bugs. considering baby sanji wore it it was probably three sizes too small for judges big ass head, making it squeeze in places that cut off blood flow and bend in others that sliced into his skin. but its not enough to kill him so ichiji lets it happen with that small smirk of his <3<3

then (after a few days of letting judge rot in a cell with no food, water, and human contact, of course :3c) the neverending torture begins!! :]

i have this distinct vision of ichiji coming into the dungeon and entering judges cell with his evercalm demeanor, slowly walking over to him and lifting the mask a little, letting judge breathe and have a moment of hope that he was gonna be free...

...before continuing to leave the mask only halfway off judges face, ichiji instead putting his hands on both sides of judges head, holding him up with just 4 of fingers of each hand so that ichiji could pop that scumbags teeth out with his thumbs.

ichiji thinks its the funniest thing hes ever seen- how judges look of hope fell away the second the first tooth was popped out, his pathetic screams and cries increasing in volume, his desperate attempts to turn his head away getting more and more frantic, all to no avail.

it turns into a game for ichiji, guessing how much blood each tooth would release, wondering if this ones gonna go back in judges throat or ricochet and fall on the floor, playing with the idea that this one'll take out his gums, too..

it doesnt end until judge has nothing but a mouth full of blood and his molars left, ichiji looking at him with the same emotionless expression he entered the room with, and wordlessly shoving the mask back on him

as he walks back out the cell door, letting the click of the lock slamming shut being as loud as he could make it, he stifles a laugh at the sound of judge vomiting up his own blood. ichiji walks away without even looking back at him, only one thought on his mind

'I can't take out *all* his teeth. Then he wouldn't be able to eat. He would starve. Sanji wouldn't approve of that.'

HAHA OKAY IM DONE IM DONE. every time i write something in your askbox it becomes less of an ask/drabble idea and more of a goddman fanfiction lmao

p.s. i was thinking of adding a scene where judges blood flecks onto ichijis cheek and ichi licks it off without so much as blinking about it, but then i realized ichijis too skilled at this to get blood splattering around like that unless he *wanted* it to. either way im not letting that strawberry prince drink judges blood- he's above that!! if he wants blood than he can go give one of his siblings a hickey and drink it out of them instead 😌😌<3<3

Omg. OMG. This was so good from start to finish and when I thought it was over you just had to end even more perfection at the end and OMGGGGG

Listen, you can continue sending me whole ass fics like this, I'm not complaining at all, like I'm just sitting here in the middle of work smiling like an idiot at my phone and with my boss on the same room as me, but it doesn't matter! Because this is just so good and fuck everything else!

What you wrote about the iron mask is exactly what I ever wanted in my perfect fantasy, judge needs to be on sanji's shoes, to go through what he did, to go through worse, and wearing that same mask would be just the beginning. Every time ichiji took it out it'd scrape against his skin, cut it in mamy place, it'd sting and blood would trickle down under the color of his shirt and it'd hurt and be so uncomfortable

Ichiji saying sanji wouldn't like the idea of someone starving, even if that someone's judge, was so heartwarming?? He completely understood sanji!! Like, he can't relate to it, but he knows it's something important to sanji!!

And I agree ichiji shouldn't get judge's blood anywhere near his mouth, he doesn't deserve to taste something so disgusting, his brothers are definitely a way better alternative (I still can't believe you included that little part there?? I'm screaming over here, I'm going feral and completely insane, it just hit me like a truck and I loved it)

#FUCK JUDGE HE DESERVES THE WORST AND ICHIJI CAN GOVE IT TO HIM #vinsmokecest

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a-little-unsteddie · 3 months

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wip wednesday!

to celebrate starting to post ch 2 of siyt, i figured i could do a wip wednesday to further push the writing for it or other project(s). so here are a few of my wips. i do work today, but i will be working on them as i work as i can :)

send me an ask with an emoji or name and i’ll write at least 3 sentences for it and post it with your ask.

my current wips:

🎤 stuck in your throat :: omegaverse au, rockstar!eddie, nanny!steve. steve is an omega and is hired to be eddie’s nanny while he’s on tour. currently finishing ch 3 and starting ch 4 :)

🪐 humans are space orcs au :: exactly what it says on the tin, i haven’t had a lot of energy to write so i haven’t finished chapter one yet, but i’m working on it still. human!steve, alien!everyone else

🍄 rot, ferment, & decompose :: witch!steve, commoner!eddie au. continuation of a steddiemicrofic prompt from september. steve senses some bs happening in hawkins, wayne is a victim of it. i just started writing this again, so there isn’t much.

snippet from 🪐

Steve leaned around a corner, trying to figure out where exactly he was on the ship, and saw a giant common room. It was a large, open space with large comfortable looking sofa/cushion hybrids. There were two passages in the room, one that he was entering in, and one that was about a quarter of the room away. It also had huge windows along one side, revealing the empty vastness. The room itself was void of any occupants, which was good, because he was in direct sight of most of the chairs.

Steve walked around the perimeter of the room until he reached the windows. His breath caught in his throat as he looked out at the endless darkness, littered with stars in constellations that looked nothing like Earth’s.

It settled in Steve’s mind then that he wasn’t on earth. He knew it logically, of course. It was kind of hard to forget when faced with such inhuman faces and behavior and languages as he tried to hide. It was impossible to ignore even as he made his way through the wilderness, because the sky overhead was so alien.

Even then, he was able to pretend that he was just imagining the difference. He was somehow still on Earth. Even though he knew he wasn’t.

Now, though, staring into the void, Steve couldn’t ignore it anymore.

He startled at the feeling of a tear dripping off of his chin, he hadn’t even realized he had started crying. He didn’t bother wiping away the tears, just stood there, feeling the way his life had fallen apart around him as he stared at the stars.

Steve wasn’t sure how long he was stood there when the sound of one of the doors hissing as it decompressed filled the silence that had fallen over the room. He twitched, but otherwise didn’t react, even as he saw the reflection of one of the aliens get closer.

He couldn’t stop the flow of tears that was falling down his face and dripping off of his chin and nose. He couldn’t look away from the emptiness, the neverending darkness. Some where, out there, was Earth.

Was he reported missing yet? Had anyone even noticed he was gone? Surely someone would have by now.

Steve choked on a sob, and slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle the sound. He knew Bat was standing just behind him, watching, but he couldn’t make himself move. He didn’t even want to think about what Bat was thinking about him right then, because every other time they’d crossed paths before Steve ran off, he looked terrified. Probably.

Steve choked out a high pitched sob as he landed heavily in a heap on the floor, unable to keep himself upright anymore. He had landed on his knees, then bent over them as he wrapped his arms around himself. He pressed the top of his forehead against the ground, his eyes clenched so tight that he saw spots of color behind his eyes. His body shook with sobs that echoed against the floor and reverberated around the room.

“I just wanna go home,” he cried out, slamming a fist against the ground before tucking it back against his chest as more sobs wracked through his body.

Why couldn’t he just go home?

#wip wednesday #siyt 🎤#haso au 🪐#rf&d 🍄#unsteddie writing

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kvitpaporoti · 1 year

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After suffering through three dentist appointments in three weeks and having to go to one more, I came to the conclusion that the dentist office is an ultimate fear domain with multiple entities involved. That includes:

1. The Corruption ('oh no, my teeth are rotting and/or all going to fall out').

2. The Spiral (your teeth aren't actually gonna fall out, your brain is lying to you; also I got gaslighted two sessions in a row somehow. It also feels like a neverending loop, when will they finally let me go, my teeth aren't even that bad).

3. The Desolation (if you're not under any anesthesia; and when they do give you anesthesia, they have to use that giant needle, why).

4. The Eye (the doctor looks at my face too close, looks at my teeth too close, they are frowning in a judgemental way, oh no x2).

5. Whatever is the Fear for spending too much money (self-explanatory).

6. Teeth just look kinda creepy when you look at them for too long, idk, feels like the Stranger, but I'm not sure.

Feel free to add more.

#tma #the magnus archives #the eyepocalypse #the corruption #the spiral #the desolation #the eye #why are dentists so keen on finding problems where there were none #i hate it here

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maddiephobic · 3 months

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If god is real where is he now?

I hope that they take my beating heart directly out of my loose chest,

that they use aggression and force to help them be victorious,

just like how the living had done.

And that every nail on my body be chopped off with a shiny kitchen knife,

slow and steady, because thats what wins the race right?

Wrong.

I want them to take their sweet time

and really envelop the blood coming out of my weakend fingers.

Maybe pick every eyelash off one by one,

and keep it in a jar for the next person to admire,

because only my beauty shall be admired,

not my daughting personality and dead eyes that shall not be seen.

especially in between my fake bubbly aura and lightened personality.

Thank goodness nobody can read between the lines of my shaky hands and my soul reaping eye bags.

Although I had always hoped It’d be gentle,

as they took my memory filled brain,

and lay me down softly and whisper little lullabies to me,

as the pat me down, getting ready for my neverending sleep,

we all know thats not how God works.

The all-seeing, perfection of the world.

A Holy being named God just decided that everything goes the way it goes.

But then why?

Why would YOU, the perfect being,

let them scoop out my heart

my red, beating heart,

and let them use it for their advantage?

How do you expect me to believe that theres someone out there that gives an explanation for everything,

if you can’t even let me be worth more then a chess piece in everyone else’s story.

So please, “God”.

Let them take my rotting corpse,

and use it for their experiments,

let them declaw me like a ravage cat,

and put a muzzle on me to shut me out.

Let them pull my body parts out of their place because

Why would I deserve more then to be thrown around like a puppet ready to perform!

Let them rip out my ears because forget learning when I could be making food for someone who doesn’t even know my favorite color,

Let them tape my mouth,

Let my dear opinions rot and discingrate,

just like they let my spark die.

Let them use me for their show once again,

so atleast in the end they were entertained.

-Madison (by me, maddiephobic <3)

Also I’m aware this is very free verse i just wanted to show a draft ig, dont be rude!!!

#poetry #new poets #new poet #writer #writers on tumblr

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consumeanddevour-rpg · 4 months

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in the world, there’s other dimensions which are loosely connected to the world at certain points (“thresholds”) and as such, magic (“the esoteric arts”) leaks through a little bit. some people are capable of it from birth, an innate skill for it, or forge their way into it. “the seven aspects” are both a term used to refer to the seven things people can do(1).and the group itself(2). The Aspects themselves are (in order of number) precognition/divination, psychometry, mediumship/evocation, persuasion/slight mind control, blood manipulation, bone manipulation, and flesh manipulation. divided primarily into two categories (1-4 being “the mind” and 5-7 being “the body”) they are considered the fundamental aspects that make up a human and if one was capable of bringing the dead back (which is forbidden!!!) they would need to invoke all seven of the aspects.

(1) The Seven Laws’, ‘The Seven Acts’ (2) ‘The Aspects’

otherworldly dimensions are perceived through the lens of dante’s inferno, with the nine dimensions being referred to as “the inferno”. from one to nine, they are: mortalis (our world, also called limbo), the grail (where the noise echoes), the labyrinth (something neverending), kokytos (where the air is heavy and the river isn’t water), the dark (there is no light powerful enough to see here), the spiral (i am stronger then others, i will complete this journey), the wilds (to ripe and rot and ruin), the decimation (the ground is slick with… something), and the end (an infinite white sky with black sand, the physical feeling of death).

there’s things there. half dead gods who’s magic is decaying and being fed off, immortal beings cast into the shadows, frayed edges of reality that are ripping, failed creations thrown to be forgotten hopefully.

as an organization, the seven aspects function to explore the inferno and what is beyond it (achieve immortality? gain more power? who knows but the rich are getting richer). members of the secret society divide themselves into scholars and rangers, the former dedicated to study and the latter to discovery.

members are given callsigns (secret society after all) from the binomial names of fauna and then initials for shortname taken from the second and third letters of the binomial name. love me a bug. callsigns are chosen by someone high up in the first aspect who’s like hmmm i am perceiving u as a bug<3 i’d be soo pissed if i got soome shit animal fucking imagine being a seagull. Anyways. u did well reading through all this infodumping for da lore<3

okay, okay. lets go. you are capable of ONE and ONLY one. members of the aspects are all able to perform one thing (which while some are more gifted than others, train and work hard and you’ll get better). but capitalism core i want what i cannot have, i want it all, i want to be all powerful, i want to raise the dead etc

the first aspect, the aspect of sight: is the first and oldest ability of precognition/divination. able to be done through force (scrying, anthropomancy, tea leaves, etc) or naturally through dreaming/visions.

the second aspect, the aspect of touch: psychometry, done through touching objects (never living beings) and reading its past.

the third aspect, the aspect of hearing: one of the most well known practices (and scams) in history, speaking with the dead. not raising them, users of the third aspects can communicate with the dead and temporarily tether them to this world, and perceive ghosts and spectres (iconic historical figure who had this (to me) was the fifth wife of henry the 8th who was HAUNTED by his two dead wives until she became one)

the fourth aspect, the aspect of the voice: beloved by politicians and powerful figures,

the fifth aspect, the aspect of blood: between healing wounds in combination with bone and flesh, blood is primarily used to create wards and bindings.

the sixth aspect, the aspect of bone: sentinel guardians of their aspect, they can manipulate and alter bone. the most common things done are combined healing with the other two aspects of the body, creating impenetrable doors and locks, and making their bones stronger.

the seventh aspect, the aspect of flesh: focused on the meat and muscle of the body, the seventh aspect can both heal and harm through the organs and skin– to a limit (things such as cancer or long term disease cannot be cured, broken bones cannot be healed). originally founded as an Official aspect by otto desramault (wow i wonder if this will be relevant later?) in 1856, it is the youngest aspect to be discovered.

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love-ridden-eyes · 4 months

Text

Happy new year- by me.

Another year at its end yet all I feel is grief

Grief spilled out I the form of numbers

When I cant seem to settle on a belief

Of how I should think.

The fireworks begin to explode

As my thoughts implode

I've lost out on a year

A year when I promised myself I'd be ok

The clicks of beer bottles

And the sound of hidden dismay

Because its a national holiday.

And they would rather fake happiness

And write meaningless resolutions

Than deal with the relative crapiness

Of their current situations.

And they get louder.

I promised myself I'd be ok this year

Yet I cannot bear The burden that I'm not

No matter how hard I try

I let myself rot

I'd rather die than fake it

No matter how much I take everyone's shit

I still feel empty

Too light

To heavy

To scared to fight the neverending cycle

Of every bang I hear.

To afraid to compensate

For my own sake and

To truly understand

Why I fave this ban

On my emotions.

And I begin to experience the hate of it

As the shouting gets louder

I find myself beginning to ponder

Why?

Why must they act prouder

As if they aren't the same as I?

Because its a 'happy new year'

But I refuse to think its happy

Because I've been lying to that familiar face

For far too long.

I have chosen to displace the reality

And to live in a fantasy

Of my own ecstacy.

And I am done.

And I gaze into the sky

And wonder how

Wonder why

It has come to this

The smiles the laughter,

Yet i cannot seem to find what I'm after

Yet its new years. And I should put that behind me.

Maybe I should let myself be.

But in turn I make others around me

Well, unhappy.

For I canot co exist in a world

That dosent fight for that.

And the booms begin to make the ground shake

Each one filled with hateful suggestions.

I cannot understand this enthusiasm to something so

Depressing.

Why bother dressing up

And making up

And fibbing to yourself.

You aren't happy, you are just imagining that.

And I think of all the people thst wish they were alive

To see what I am.

I feel guilty for wishing that.

For feeling that.

Even beside the feeling of grief

I choose to climb the heath

Yet it decides to get bigger.

Maybe to pull the trigger,

On a happy new year.

And im beginning to see the flaw

In this whole thing

Maybe if people bring

How they truly feel to the table

We could enjoy it

But people like me are unable

Since we are aware

Of the scare

That a new year brings.

The pressure

To find something that will measure

Up to their expectations.

And i wish i could be

Anywhere else.

As I slip into the hole

That I have created myself

I dont feel full

Yet hungry.

The year halted at a null

And dragged me with it

I had no option

But to comply

For I was told to be nice

And suffice

For what they wanted.

Even if I don't want that.

Because its for the greater good.

Yet it makes me blue.

And it is unbearable.

The noise

The lights

The poise these people carry.

Why celebrate?

When all you will do tommorrow is realise

The bad traits of your decisions.

And 1.

Where the sky opens up in a fit of light

And swallows me whole

Why fight?

I think.

The tears tumbling down my cheeks as I begin to tear

What I fear

Will come true

This year will be as terrible

As the two before.

I cannot live in a lie

Where i am supposed to enjoy

The sound of something so artificial.

I feel like a toy

Trapped in its ambitions

But hey, it's new years.

Why not crack a smile.

Because even after all of this,

That's what they expect you to compile.

[Apologies for the typos, this one was a bit rushed.]

#spilled thoughts #realisation #spilled poetry #literature #poetry #english literature #new years

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mishimaflatulence · 7 months

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He then sent a letter to Michael, explaining everything he should do. William was aware of the spirits and possessions, and knew his daughter was haunting CBE&R, so he sent Michael there first. Then Sister Location happened and all that jazz. Or should I say, casual bongos? Kill me. So, Baby first thought Michael was William, but then she recongnized his brother and saw an opportunity for her and the other sentient robots from the Rental to leave - using him as a "human disguise". To prevent his brother died from this, she did some black magic researchs and found a way to prevent him from dying. Then Ennard came to be, Michael was fooled into the Scooping Room and became a suit. Ennard tried to live a life as a regular human being pretending to be Michael, but unfortunately the black magic didn't prevent flesh from rotting, so the disguise was ruined and Ennard left Michael' body, now living in the sewers, waiting for It to start shooting, hoping to get a role in it. But, even though Michael became an undying walking corpse, his job wasn't done, he had one last thing to do: free the souls of his father's victims. So, he went to work at FFP, that reopened in the 90's, to check if the possession thing was really going on there. Oh, Henry died there before Michael begin to work. Michael got a fake name - Mike Schmidt (he wasn't as good with names as his father was) -, and worked there. He was unfortunately fired for being a smelly corpse and "supposedly tampering the animatronics". So he waited for when the pizzeria closed for good. With the help of Shadow Freddy, who was actually the spirit of his younger brother, he dismantled the animatronics, freeing the children's souls from their physical restraints. For Michael's unluckiness, in FNaF Universe rotten corpses are purple, which lead the spirits into believing he was the Purple Guy and consequently attacking him. Thankfully, Michael remember about the Spring Bonnie suit he could use to fool the spirits his father told him. Unfortunately, the suit failed on him, crushing his body. As the spirits thought their killer was dead for good, they left. Michael stayed there, sitting in an abandoned room, a rotten body inside a broken rotten suit, with his brother. FNaF 3 No one likes FNaF 3. You all know what happens here. The Future After Fazbear's Fright burnt down, in an attempt from Michael to remove the suit - he thought the fire would disintegrate the suit, but it only hurt more -, he concluded the last thing he had to do in his neverending life was to go after his father, one to caused all the shit that happened to everyone in this freaking franchise. So, what's to come? Only FNaF 6 will answer us.

I... I don't even know what to say. I'm stumped. Thank you for... telling me this? I guess?

#rp blog #yttd #your turn to die

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