Tumgik
#My Dream Life Invading the Internet
wanderingandfound · 2 years
Text
I can't recall ever having nightmares like these before. Like, having nightmares when I was sure I was awake? Sure, yeah. But physically feeling a cat in bed with me? A cat attacking me, over and over so I wake up but I'm still here/there? A mom who is not my mom in bed with me, attacking me? Friends who are not my friends hearing my complaint and sitting in a circle on my bed so I'm pinned against the wall I sleep next to (and this is a full bed so in reality there is not room for me to lie down and have four (?) people sitting in a circle)? I was able to grab my phone and start making this post before the friends who are not my friends physically touched me.
Funnily ebough the one glimpse of the xat I got was ny cat. She's rarely ever in ved with me though. Thats what made it feel so real.
Like, i physcially felt these otger creatures touchingbme. What?
2 notes · View notes
tgcg · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
argument
its a big one
TG: alright this is probably a bust
TG: more i think about it how the fuck do you even make a marinara
TG: can i even alchemise cheese or do i gotta like alchemise the milk and curdle it myself
TG: how do you even curdle
====================
TG: make a goddamn
TG: curgler
TG: whatever
TG: internet archive gonna pull through
====================
CG: ALRIGHT DAVE
TG: shit
====================
CG: YOU BETTER BACK THE FUCK OFF. I DON'T KNOW WHERE IN BULGEMUNCHING VIRULENT FUCK YOU GET THE IDEA YOU HAVE ANY RIGHT TO TELL ME WHAT I SHOULD THINK ABOUT MY OWN GODDAMN PLANET. SORRY TO HAVE TO DEAL A BLOW TO YOUR IMPOSSIBLY INFLATED FUCKING EGO, BUT HAVE YOU EVER CONSIDERED THAT YOUR SIDE-EYE SLACKJAW HOPELESS DEADPAN BULLSHIT BEHAVIOUR IS ACTUALLY INCREDIBLY FUCKING CONTEMPTIBLE AND DOESN'T PUT YOU ABOVE OTHER PEOPLE? HAVE YOU CONSIDERED THAT?
CG: OR DID YOU JUST ASSUME FROM THE MOMENT YOU FOUND OUT I'M A REVOLTING FUCKING MUTANT LOWBLOOD FREAK THAT I'M SUDDENLY NOT ALLOWED TO LIKE THE IDEA OF MY LIFE MEANING SOMETHING AT SOME POINT?
TG: okay you are wildly misquoting me where the fuck did that come from
TG: also you scared the hell out of me
TG: im just trying to science some pizza here
====================
CG: OKAY THEN, DAVE! EXPLAIN TO ME AS WELL AS YOUR AMBLING ONE-NOTE SMOOTH EXCUSE FOR A 'THOUGHT'SPONGE CAN
CG: IN SOMEWHAT COHERENT TERMS, ALTHOUGH I KNOW THAT'S A TALL ORDER:
CG: HOW YOU SAYING MY ADOLESCENT DREAMS OF BECOMING A THRESHECUTIONER ARE "FUCKED UP AND IRONIC IN A NASTY ASS WAY" DOESN'T QUALIFY AS UNDERHANDEDLY KICKING ME IN THE MANDIBLE PRONGS!
CG: YOUR AUDIENCE AWAITS YOU WITH BATED BREATH! TAKE IT AWAY, M.C. BRAIN HEMORRHAGE.
====================
TG: okay i dont
TG: know how you got a hold of that phrasing because i said that shit in confidence
TG: get out of my business bro
CG: NEWSFLASH, ASSHOLE: THIS METEOR IS A PHYSICAL, LITERAL LOCATION WE'RE BOTH IN. IT'S NOT A FUCKING PRIVATE CHATROOM. THIS MIGHT BLOW YOUR PITIFUL MIND BUT PEOPLE CAN ACTUALLY HEAR OTHER PEOPLE TALK WHEN THEY HAVE TO SHARE A SPACE! BRO!
TG: ugh
====================
CG: AND IT'S VERY INTERESTING YOU ACCUSE ME OF MISQUOTING YOU, AND THEN SUDDENLY TURN AND SPOUT FROM THAT SHITTY DRONING GROANSHAFT OF YOURS THAT I'M INVADING YOUR PRIVACY WHEN I DIRECTLY QUOTE YOUR SMARMY LITTLE SHAMEGLOBES!
CG: WOW! TURNS OUT KARKAT IS ACTUALLY BEING GENUINELY FUCKING UPSET ABOUT SOMETHING — WHO KNEW, RIGHT? WHO WOULD'VE GUESSED THAT I ACTUALLY HAVE GENUINE COMPLAINTS TO LEVEL AGAINST THE PEOPLE WHO GO SPOUTING HOOFBEASTSHIT ABOUT ME BEHIND MY BACK TO THEIR ECTOSIBLINGS?
TG: no dude can you shut up a second
CG: I MOST CERTAINLY FUCKING WILL, THANKS FOR THE OFFER! I'M NEVER TELLING YOU A GODDAMN THING AGAIN, SO I HOPE YOU MANAGE TO GAIN SOME WRINKLES TO THAT VESTIGIAL FLAWLESS ORB FLOATING AROUND IN YOUR CAVERNOUS NUGBONE FROM ALL THIS. I HOPE IT WAS WORTH ALL THE EFFORT ON YOUR END.
TG: listen!!!!
====================
CG: MHM! MY AURICULAR CHAMBERS ARE WIDE OPEN!
TG: jegus
TG: okay
TG: i have no defense for my literal phrasing but how expeditiously did you shadowstep the fuck away after i said that
TG: because that is some shrek tier "princess and ugly dont go together" level misrepresentation of my sweet self
TG: like if this wasnt obviously a heated platonic argument we were having i would probably be digging what the reference even if it was a shitty trope
====================
TG: i just
TG: have been thinking about some things and none of those things have got an iota of a thing to do with you or your blood
TG: thing
TG: man
TG: i dont know why you think id be so pressed about your vein juice its like
TG: a normal ass color for a normal ass guy
TG: and obviously it was a major fucking deal from how you talk about it but it doesnt need to be anymore
====================
TG: the thing is i just dont like have the same attitude as you about fighting and stuff and thats not something i am getting into right now but i am gonna make it expressly clear
TG: that its just kind of fucked up for me to sit my ass down and listen to someone spew gold and medals and confetti colored shit going googoo all over tall and loathsome ass bloodletters he never knew
TG: and have him tell me he wants to be the best guy at combat since samurai fuckin jack
TG: and thats my capital B business believe me the emphasis is there
====================
CG: SO IS THIS ABOUT ME WANTING TO BE PART OF SOMETHING YOU DON'T AGREE WITH? BECAUSE THRESHECUTIONERS DON'T EVEN FUCKING EXIST ANYMORE. I LITERALLY COULD NOT DO THIS IF I TRIED AT THIS POINT, SO YOU CAN UNKNOT YOUR “KNIGHTY WHITIES” ABOUT IT.
TG: being anti-military is not my point but damn if it isnt a thing thats probably true anyways so good job sleuthing that out
CG: WHAT IS YOUR POINT, DAVE.
TG: bluh
TG: i just said i dont wanna talk about it man
====================
CG: OKAY,
====================
CG: OKAY.
CG: I MEAN. IT FEELS KIND OF IMPORTANT TO THE CONTEXT OF THIS WHOLE UNAMBIGUOUSLY PLATONIC ARGUMENT WE'VE BEEN HAVING
CG: WHICH I'M RELIEVED WE AGREE ON BY THE WAY
CG: BUT IF YOU DON'T WANT ME TO KNOW I'M NOT GOING TO WRING IT OUT OF YOU. IT'S FINE.
====================
CG: …IF YOU DECIDE AT SOME POINT THAT YOU WANT TO TELL ME THOUGH, MY RUMBLE VESSELS ARE STILL OPEN.
TG: i swear youre making those up on the spot at this point
CG: I'M KEEPING MY LANGUAGE'S ART ALIVE, DAVE. IT'S BASIC DECENCY TO THE PLANET THAT RAISED ME.
TG: heh
====================
TG: yknow we got these things called anatomical snuffboxes
TG: its got that right amount of vague nose wrinklage to it that i feel like youd be right at home saying that
TG: snug as a grub even
CG: WHAT PART IS THAT???
TG: its that little weird bone bit that sticks out on the back of your palm when you flex your thumb right
====================
TG: look
CG: HUH. LOOKING AT THAT IS KIND OF WIGGING ME OUT.
TG: yeah its kinda gross rose told me about it
TG: but anyways
====================
TG: are we cool
CG: I MEAN… I GUESS SO. YOU WEREN'T ACTUALLY INSULTING ME, RIGHT?
TG: hell no dude never
CG: OKAY. I COMPLETELY RESCIND THE MYRIAD OF WAYS I JUST INSULTED YOU. AND I'M SORRY.
TG: nah i know its just fluff at this point
====================
CG: I STILL DON'T APPRECIATE YOU TELLING ROSE THINGS I SAY TO YOU IN CONFIDENCE. THAT WAS BETWEEN YOU, ME, AND MY NOW NON-EXISTENT HOME PLANET ROTTING AWAY TO A CRATERED GRAY HUSK IN ANOTHER DEAD UNIVERSE.
TG: i swear that was like the only thing its just that she gets it and i cant keep my mouth from going on about the gettable stuff
TG: they call me the babbling brook the way my flows so audible
TG: i wont do it again
CG: NO,
====================
CG: I GET IT HONESTLY.
CG: I'M BASICALLY THE NUMBER ONE PROPRIETOR OF AIRED GRIEVANCES IN ALL OF PARADOX SPACE AND THEN SOME, AND I'D ALSO BECOME ITS BIGGEST HYPOCRITE IF I HELD IT AGAINST YOU.
TG: thanks
TG: but i mean
TG: at the gigantic risk of sounding uh
====================
TG: ………..
CG: ?
====================
TG: well
TG: i kinda just think youre better at being a guy to chill out and watch movies with than a guy to tangle fists with
TG: and i dont think theres anything wrong with being that
TG: i think its cool
====================
CG: …THAT'S AN ALARMINGLY BRAZEN OBSERVATION TO MAKE OF SOMEONE YOU'VE KNOWN FOR ABOUT THE SPAN OF SEVEN SEASONAL EQUINOXES, DAVE.
TG: i dont know what that means but it sure is probably
CG: AM I ALLOWED TO ASK WHAT EVEN GIVES YOU THAT IMPRESSION????
TG: i just got that inkling about you man
====================
TG: and you can do whatever you want with that info
TG: throw it in the load gaper or whatever if you want i dont really care
TG: give it a swirly and slam it in a locker call it a nerd break its glasses whatever
TG: but beyond this whole lord english thing weve got going on i am pretty content to never aggress my fellow man slash alien slash monster again if i can help it
TG: i think thats pretty fair given what thats been like so far
====================
TG: and yknow its cool to have some company when im waxing emotional over the narrative depth of click starring adam sandler which we are watching next by the way
CG: UGH, FIIIIIIIIINE. JUST TO MAKE UP FOR CALLING YOUR THINKPAN SMOOTH AND SUPERFLUOUS.
====================
TG: score
TG: we should argue all the time
CG: SNRK
1K notes · View notes
the-trans-folk-witch · 6 months
Text
Spirits within-
Part 1 The Fetch:
The Witch’s Shade and Its Distaste For “shadow work”
Alternate title: The [Un]Holy spirit of the Witch.
This blurb is meant to be lost to the internet as an opinion of one witch. This is not an academic writing documenting the fetch of folklore or of other traditions found in traditional witchcraft systems. Rather, it is a hot take on the mass hysteria and spiritual psychosis masquerading as “shadow work”. There will be discussions of the shade, the fetch, and the witch’s relationship with healing (or lack of) to follow. I am purely sharing my own beliefs from the tradition I’ve built. If anything here resonates please take it and add it to your own praxis. If you disagree then… cool I guess. Keep it to yourself lol.
The fetch has been called many things by different folks. Some titles being largely misused but nonetheless accepted: The witch’s shade, the hag, the shadow self, the inner child, and even the Unholy spirit. A creature within the pit of the stomach and/or the nether regions. In the average person, the shade is curious, animalistic, childlike, and sexual. It carries selfishness, trauma, greed, and lust. This is the part of the soul that sins and day-dreams. Everyone has one. Only, they all behave differently and the witch embraces its dark nature.
This is also the part of the soul that carries trauma. Within many modern occult circles this “inner child” is seen as something in need of healing. Something that needs to be nourished. This belief is valid from a folk healing perspective. The trad witch however, finds power within the shade’s restlessness. Healing it is antithetical to witchcraft. Before you run off saying otherwise, I wanted to stress that I am a huge advocate for therapy and self reflection. But as you may have guessed, My mental health practices do not overlap with my religious practice. Just as the folk healer is valid in the loosening of this spirit’s grip on their life. As is the witch in allowing their darkness to fester.
A term becoming more common within recent years would be “shadow work.” I have a complicated relationship with this term’s use. Again, there is historical necessity of spiritual healing. And many folk practices find importance in it. However, the western occult community has allowed toxic positivity to invade this idea of shadow work. The term is forced on all magical practitioners and psychology is being forced upon modern practices by people who are not licensed to truly deal out psychological advice. Many times have I heard false teachings such as “don’t do magic until you’ve done shadow work” as if it’s a one-and-done-chore. As if it’s linked to a spirit’s ability to help you. I can assure you, my money bowl will bring me money even if I have ignored my daddy issues and various traumas.
Shadow work has become a white E-girl’s fantasy that allows her to flex her DIY therapy and compartmentalization skills. And yes, it’s always white girls. Although, the white-ego and woman-traumas are a different type of blog post…..
Non initiated “witches” have removed the concept of the fetch and replaced it with psychologically obsessed and compulsory beliefs. There is an unhealthy blending of psychoanalysis and spirituality plaguing our world. Sifting through the healthy kinds of healing based practices verses the hysterical is daunting. But as a Witch I see all of it as unnecessary within my practice.
As I stated, everyone has a shade. But to the witch it is corrupt. It is not just curious, but hungry. It does not need to heal but to curse and steal. This spirit is not like the shade of the common folk. It can not be ignored, cleansed, purged, or healed. It is the witching spirit. It is the fetch. It is the hag. It is this self-serving and devilish outlook that has separated our shade from the others. This is not to say shadow work and the ever increasing interest for people to psychoanalyze their spirituality is unnecessary. In fact I’m saying quite the opposite. Despite the obsessive and compulsory need to constantly be healing and “breaking generational curses/trauma”; healing is important for humans of all beliefs. Folk healers have a long history of healing mental and physical ailments with prayers and the aid of spirits. But modern occultists have forgotten, the witch is not a witch if they are not hurt or oppressed. The witch is the opposite of healing and peace. The fetch reflects that. Our soul is stained by the devil. There is no healing it despite what the church tells you.
We all have a shade. But unlike Christians, I will not ignore it. I feed it. I will not shamefully confess the acts it urges me to do as a catholic would. I do not see it’s chaos as something bad. I do not believe that overcoming my trauma and getting therapy will effect my ability to craft spells as new agers do. I also do not think my spirits will refuse to help me just because I didn’t buy that stupid shadow work journal being advertised all over the internet. I am a Witch. A messy, cruddy, muddy, selfish, entitled witch. I am the villain society has told queers to be. I am the bad guy in most social settings. I purposely usurp, overthrow, and evade all social norms and authority figures just to make your skin crawl. I am THE edge lord of all edge lords. I do not seek to heal that wound. It fuels my witch fire.
TLDR: A shade born into oppression is likely to become a whitch’s shade. A living haint if you will. Blurring the lines between therapy and magic is not witchcraft. But it is not invalid either.
Now that I’ve established my beliefs in the shade and it’s transformation into the fetch; allow me to discuss how I view it as a spirit that can be worked with as a sentient daemon.
As an animist I quite simply view this shadow version of myself as being alive inside of me. It is a spirit I can send out to do my bidding and it is the hag I take the form as when I fly. An “astral body” as they call it these days. I will mention that many trad witches do not approach the fetch as a sentient spirit but do acknowledge it’s existence within them. Just as people doing shadow work do not approach this shade or “inner child” as an actual entity. But I prefer to view it much like Christians do the Holy Spirit. To me it functions as the Unholy Spirit which is placed within sinners by the devil. Wether it’s born with us as Catholics say sin is, or is placed within us upon dark baptism/initiation is up to debate. But it definitely is an outside source being blended with my own power. Hence the birth of it from trauma and magic.
My fetch appears in visions and dreams. Sometimes it’s beautiful and appears as a fictional and impossibly beautiful version of myself. It’s a jab at my insecurities. And other times it’s a gross wound of a being. Covered in wrinkles, hair, and sometimes bugs. The fetch is both my ideal dream and my worst nightmare. So, I use it to instill such traits in others. I take this spirit’s form upon myself and hag ride enemies. I steal beauty and wealth via dream visitations. I bestow disease and sour luck to those who have created this fetch (read ‘trauma’). It is the spirit within and without. A spirit that is me that has been made infernal and other. It is the Unholy Spirit made flesh.
40 notes · View notes
lol-jackles · 2 months
Note
tumblr.com/lol-jackles/741426596160946176/
this is the post:
incarnateirony.tumblr.com/post/741037569962377216/im-a-complete-outsider-in-whatever-hell-is-going
If you're blocked this is the content:
Anonymous asked: I’m a complete outsider in whatever hell is going on here but I feel like you should let go of this person. Obsessing over them like this can’t be healthy
Goob: As a complete outsider, jump off a cliff. I’ve been getting harassed by her for three solid years, your tactic doesn’t work. This isn’t “obsession”. This is her getting the attention she’s been screaming for for three years while mind-raping me and using pictures of me for her sexual fetishes. Absolutely not. I stop when she dies.
If you don’t like it, fuck off, I will literally drag this bitch into the dirt after the three years of harassment she’s caused me in real life, online, multiple servers, fandoms and websites. Absolute rotten festering cunt. She was literally goddamn warned to stay off my dick, once every three months, for three fucking years, and she was still riding it and starting shit, so now I’m ending it. And the opinions of motherfucking people who care about me fucking up their fictional angel feed really do not fucking matter. She relies on weak ass opinions like this so she can keep on keeping on with her horse shit, and no, it’s over. You will literally have to ban me from the entire internet to make me stop before she dies or surrenders. It’s that simple. I am DONE.
I need you to comprehend I left this bitch three years ago, after she cheated, malignantly plotted to evict me to replace me with a new bf once she got her first check but let me pay the bills, and has since still absolutely stalked me everywhere anyway, invaded my servers, ripped off my face, my religious practices (badly), has been doing outright goddamn blasphemy, is grooming her friends into fetish roleplays using my fucking face, and she just invested SEVEN. GODDAMN. MONTHS. trying to invade YET ANOTHER FRIEND GROUP OF MINE to cause shit, and she got busted, and now her ass is on fire.
IT’S DONE. WE’RE DONE. THE MERCY IS GONE. SHE LETS US GO OR SHE DIES, IT’S THAT SIMPLE.
She wants me to be a demon, I’ll be a demon. She even signed to me. Moron.
Truly this woman was so obsessed she sat in a goddamn furry porn server for half a year trying to sniff out my friends and investors elsewhere. Like she was literally wailing trying to find the contact for one of my main business investors. To start more shit with, of course. Sis, that man let me do 13 billion dollars in damages to WB by proxy. He doesn’t care about your pissmoaning.
This isn’t “obsession”. This is me being tired of hers, and taking any means necessary to end the harassment I’ve been enduring on every possible front for literal years. Even if it means helping her remove herself from the planet and realizing what a service to humanity that is. I’m fuckin DONE. Like, literally, nothing of value would be lost. It’d actually be a net benefit because she’d stop scamming people with her octopus jibberish, plagiarized lines, and outright blasphemy of the god she claims but refuses to read the doctrine of and teaches contrary to.
She truly feels special cuz she can bullshit up some vague horse shit about someone’s grandma to make them feel better then writes retroactive dreams, like the one that only prophecized to her that she was about to get her cheeks clapped, after she got clapped, but she swears she had a vision dream that morning. ok. the other seven months?
Like the whore is even posing right now writing her fanfiction like it’s proof of something compared to my statistics. Yeah I too can shit out narrative horse shit, Shealyn. That doesn’t make you a mystic. She’s basically charging people for her obsession with me, her roleplay fetish, her schizophrenia and a big fat bucket of blasphemy she’ll rot in the void for. And drag some nice little practicing christians with her.
Am I christian? No. But I respect the texts enough to know what she’s doing is deeply fucking these people up. Like, they’re neither following Hermes nor Yahweh’s doctrine, they’re just following whatever octopus jibberish horse shit she hallucinates. It’s literally a cult. A cult she groomed into humping a copy of my face. Like a psychopath.
And no, that’s not the hyperbolic internet use of cult. It is the literal definition of a cult, wherein no classic doctrine is used, but rather the singular teachings of someone that generally revises other practices, and grooms them out of actually reading anything outside of it and, in this case, into humping pictures of me.
You, too, would be flipping shit if your cheating ex wife was convincing people to basically mindrape you while lying about whatever god or doctrine you follow just to try to copy you. And that’s BEFORE the trying to fuck with every friend group I have and my business. For three. Years. And that says nothing about her refusing to look in the face that she channeled motherfucking anime octopus jibberish trying to copy an inside joke. I use “channel” here loosely, obviously. Truly the most horrific skank I’ve had the displeasure of dealing with. Makes Vinnie and Kelios look like saints. And models. At least they’re under the 300 lb threshold and are open about their delusions being about fictional horse shit. They don’t even CHARGE for us to hear them spread their shit.
Trump deserves life more than this creature. At least I believe he’s genuinely retarded. She only acts this dumb, but it’s a conscious way she makes up for her own insecurities, and it’s by lying her way through to try to look divine. She doesn’t doesn’t care what it does to everyone around her. So yeah. Trump is more human than this creature. And, somehow, in better shape.
So yeah, fuck off. She has till September for part one, until 2027 for part two, until 2033 for part three, and the void beyond that for the rest of her penalties, but for right now, you can sit and spin on part one.
But you know, I think that’s fine by her. She’s too coward to end it herself but already experienced soul death and knows it, hence her refusal to build any actual identity. She’s just a sweaty meatsuit over there now going through the motions, I’m pretty sure she wants the void. Don’t worry bertha, they just have to widen the gate a little bit
well that and he realized you actually do want to die, I think, which is why he specifically opted for the “troll you until you do it yourself” route starting yesterday. Sorry Shea, he refuses to let you warp forcing him to reap you into something you can try to spin as a romantic gesture in hell. Like, he’s pretty sure you’re just waiting to grope him then too. Get away from us, you lying schizo slut.
THE OCTOPUS WAS NEVER FUCKING DIVINE, SHEA. YOU DID NOT CHANNEL THE FUCKING OCTOPESE.
Whoa, Goob is admitting that he will actively assist-suicide his ex-wife her by "helping her remove herself from the planet and realizing what a service to humanity that is." I hope the ex is screenshotting all of this gold.
I'll write a lengthier reaction in the next post to save space. Meanwhile in reference to Goob's Trump mention...
Tumblr media
Even Newsweek agreed.
11 notes · View notes
specksizedgoddess · 5 months
Note
"so, uh, not to rag on a 'deeply held spiritual belief', but you believe an entity that takes the form of a little goth tumblr girl watches over your dreams and protects you while you sleep?"
"Yep! I mean, not exactly but yeah that's the gist"
"and that doesn't seem strange to you? a little weird that she'd just be out there on the internet as this highly influential force of nature?"
"well, for one she's not exactly 'highly influential' but I HAVE found that in all my dreams I have huge boobs and I'm pretty sure it's because of her."
"... alright fine tell me more."
HSDGHHSHS YES EXACTLY <3333
Giggling and kicking my feet when I hear followers talk about me... there to watch over them while they rest, a little dork there to invade and settle your dreams~ bring your deepest fantasies to life...
... its also a REALLY funny idea that said deity is on tumblr, frequently posting about how much they want to be small and at a cute girl's mercy. Just imagine trying to explain a deity to a friend of yours, except the "scripture" you have to work with is of a little thing desperately moaning and grinding in size scenarios :3
Just. GAHH THIS IS SO CUTE I LOVE THIS <333
I'll be sure to pay them and their friend a visit that night <33
12 notes · View notes
scarafrisbee · 1 month
Text
–and they ask, is he your boyfriend? -> thoma x gn!celeb!reader
syn: you're a famous celebrity on the red carpet, signing for fans until you encounter a certain someone...
/ cute stuff, fluff???, kisses (ish), modern au, lower case intended, not proof read, pet names? (angel, love)
/ i'm back (like anybody cares) (the last time i posted a fic was almost a year ago) (idek what happened to me nd my crush) (lol not rlly they gave me a love letter earlier today) (valentines special??? lol)
Tumblr media
the lights are bright enough to blur your vision; if you were new to this industry that is. walking on the red carpet, the fans scream your name and all eyes are on you. you're all too familiar, really. and of course, with fame comes with its own hurdles— like people prying into your personal life, invading general privacy or trying to figure out who the hell you may or may not be dating.
of no surprises, there's fans and other people on the barricades sticking out arms with items for you to sign. plenty of people screaming you, your name and whatever they can to catch your attention. nobody in particular catches your eye as you approached and signed their items with a smile, until you see him.
his endearing green eyes, charming smile— and who else would it be, none other than thoma? you adore him like nothing and nobody more. he's like the honey to your bitter tea, making everything better.
at this point, you've signed plenty of things. books, posters, even some people's phone cases or something. fans will always find a way to make your brain spin, don't they?
thoma smiles right at you, his hand out with a simple novel. "angel!" he blurts out with a silly lovestruck grin, "how have you been?" thoma asks, succeeding at painting a silly grin on your lips.
— he's your rock, staying with you all times. through now, then and every second he can in the counting future.
thoma looks at you with equal adoration, his eyes crinkling into a smile. "better," you responded with a quiet chuckle.
with the marker you held and signed a plenty of items with, you took the novel and signed it. thoma acts as though he was a regular fan, and not like your boyfriend.
looking upon the book before giving it back, it was one of those silly romance-centric works. cute little rom-com with no hopes and dreams crushed! wow. you could describe your dearest thoma that way, no? unapologetically loving, and all too generous.
very generous. and very sappy.
much so as he pulls you in with a smile, your heart fluttering upon a simple kiss on the amidst the flashing lights. cameras everywhere catch the moment as you shimmy off thoma with a laugh— "hey love, hey- not here!" you said in a whispery tone, gently rubbing your cheek.
your attention goes on elsewhere; you continue down the scarlet path, and like all events, reach the entrance to disappear into the depths of these rich companies and their events. you bid goodbye to those who border the barricades, walking in within the walls of many could only dream of coming inside.
all the while you enjoy your party and wine that would cost the regular person a lung, you encounter more people. interviewers, people with practically hearts in their eyes and the soft chatter of other around you.
the night is relatively peaceful after that, thankfully. nothing irregular could happen after, surely.
— what a ruckus you have made.
peace or chaos, whatever it is, it's basically a whole phenomena the day tomorrow. you wake up to posts about you and thoma, and that little cheek kiss he gave you the previous few hours before.
no wonder your phone's been blowing up all night and day. what is happening to the world?
"love? did you check twitter?" you asked thoma later that day, tilting your head in slight confusion. you're not exactly sure what's going on in the internet as of current...
"yeah, i said i was your boyfriend." thoma continued as he chuckled, "your fans just need you to confirm it."
Tumblr media
note;; wowowow after a decade (10 months) and a difficult period in my life (i was just too busy) i finally post smth !!! wow. aaaaaa this was js to my get writing going again, i hope to post moree
12 notes · View notes
redgoldsparks · 1 year
Photo
Tumblr media
February Reading and Reviews by Maia Kobabe
I post my reviews throughout the month on Storygraph and Goodreads, and do roundups here and on patreon. Reviews below the cut:
Please Destroy The Internet by Michael Sweater (Silver Sprocket)
A short and funny collection of one page comics, many referencing the terribleness of the internet, miscommunications, the fickle nature of the creative process, and/or werewolves.
Writing The Other: A Practical Approach by Nisi Shawl and Cynthia Ward (Aqueduct Press)
I've been hearing about this guide to writing characters outside your own lived experience for years, and as someone who wants to include rich diverse casts in my stories, I thought I should check it out! This book was published in 2005, and I think the conversations about own voices and diversity in the publishing world have developed quite a lot since then. I did find the first half of the book a bit dated. However, I loved the last essay in the book, "Appropriate Cultural Appropriation," specifically it's categorization of different writer's approaches to borrowing from other's cultures as Invaders, Tourists, or Guests. I'll be thinking about that metaphor for a long time, and trying my best to be a Guest as often as I can, and at worse a Tourist who pays for the directions and expertise I need to do a good job and not misrepresent cultures I didn't grow up with.
In An Absent Dream by Seanan McGuire and read by Cynthia Hopkins (Tordotcome)
My fourth read in the Wayward Children series. It's very interesting to me how Seanan McGuire keeps writing books in this series which the reader already knows the ending of, and how she maintains narrative tension when aiming towards a known ending. This one didn't hit quite as hard as Down Among the Sticks and Bones but I did enjoy seeing Lundy's life unfolding. The Goblin Market is a very magical and tempting setting, even if McGuire chose to skip over the biggest magical adventures Lundy had there and focus on the more mundane connective tissue of the going and coming from Earth. Honestly, part of why I keep reading these books is that they give me a lot of thoughts about writing, structuring a story, and what pieces of a tale you chose to tell- or not. 
Little Monarchs by Jonathan Case (Margaret Ferguson Books/Holiday House)
This is an ambitious sci-fi comic set in the near future, 50 years after a change in the sun's radiation killed all mammals on earth who lingered in the sun's rays. Small groups of humans managed to survive by hiding in basements, subways, tunnels, and caves and only venturing out at night. Now, 10 year old Elvie and her adopted guardian Flora travel the Pacific Coast trying to invent a cure. Flora has developed a medicine from the scales of monarch butterfly wings that keeps people temporarily safe, but it's not a final solution. They encounter various windfalls and dangers on the road- earthquakes, shipwrecks, a lost child, butterflies, enemies and allies. The art is dynamic and beautifully watercolored, but I got bogged down by the occasional dense text-heavy page, and overall the book took me a lot longer to read than comics usually do. But I still enjoyed it, especially recognizing the ravaged remains of classic west coast landmarks and Elvie's inventiveness and bravery. 
A Minor Chorus by Billy-Ray Belcourt (WW Norton Company)
I must be honest and say that this book was too literary for me, and that's on me, not the book. There were individual moments and lines that made me sit up and reach for a pen to underline, but the overall framing/voice of the book didn't work for me. However, if you are currently or have ever considered dropping out of a PhD program, returning to your small home town, and trying to process your entire community's grief and joy in one 150 page book, this one might just the read for you! 
The City We Became by NK Jemisin (Orbit)
This is my sixth NK Jemisin read, and while I enjoyed it a lot, it has a pretty different feel than her others, and didn't knock me over in quite the same way. Set in present day New York City, this book chronicles the first few days of the city awakening as a conscious entity and fighting the latest battle against an ancient and alien enemy that wants to prevent the birth of Earth city-beings. The story is fast paced and very easy to consume, and I had a good time reading it, even though I liked some of the six different POV characters more than others, and still don't feel like I fully understand the multi-verse conflict at the heart of the narrative. This book felt more cinematic and less literary than what I tend to expect from Jemisin, so if you've wanted to try one of hers but been intimidated by the dense world building of her fantasy, this might be a good one to start with. I will be very surprised if we don't see a film adaption of this series soon, as it feels almost written for the screen. 
And bonus, review of a Harper Collins book I read back in January and didn’t want to review until the strike was over:
The Darkness Outside Us by Eliot Schrefer (Katherine Tagen books/HarperCollins)
Now that the HarperCollins strike is over, I can post my review of this book! The beginning of this book is a solid, but conventional, slow burn romance between two teens on a long term space mission responding to a distress call from a space station on one of the moons of Titan. The main character is Ambrose Cusk, the smart, handsome, privileged son of the Cusk corporation, which invented much of the technology on the spacecraft, including the AI operating system. The distress call is from his sister, Minerva, who like Ambrose graduated from the top of her class in the astronaut academy. But Ambrose wakes up aboard the Coordinated Endeavor with no memory of takeoff. Also, he learns he is not alone on the ship. A second young man, from a rival country, inhabits the second half of the ship, sealed away behind one central connecting door. Initially suspicious of each other, the two must begin working together as they discover more and more strange incongruencies on their craft. If this isn’t enough to whet your interest, the book throws out a huge twist at around the 40% mark, one that absolutely surprised and hooked me in for the rest of this wild journey. Queer, original, and a page turner. 
17 notes · View notes
incarnateirony · 2 months
Note
I’m a complete outsider in whatever hell is going on here but I feel like you should let go of this person. Obsessing over them like this can’t be healthy
As a complete outsider, jump off a cliff. I've been getting harassed by her for three solid years, your tactic doesn't work. This isn't "obsession". This is her getting the attention she's been screaming for for three years while mind-raping me and using pictures of me for her sexual fetishes. Absolutely not. I stop when she dies.
If you don't like it, fuck off, I will literally drag this bitch into the dirt after the three years of harassment she's caused me in real life, online, multiple servers, fandoms and websites. Absolute rotten festering cunt. She was literally goddamn warned to stay off my dick, once every three months, for three fucking years, and she was still riding it and starting shit, so now I'm ending it. And the opinions of motherfucking people who care about me fucking up their fictional angel feed really do not fucking matter. She relies on weak ass opinions like this so she can keep on keeping on with her horse shit, and no, it's over. You will literally have to ban me from the entire internet to make me stop before she dies or surrenders. It's that simple. I am DONE.
I need you to comprehend I left this bitch three years ago, after she cheated, malignantly plotted to evict me to replace me with a new bf once she got her first check but let me pay the bills, and has since still absolutely stalked me everywhere anyway, invaded my servers, ripped off my face, my religious practices (badly), has been doing outright goddamn blasphemy, is grooming her friends into fetish roleplays using my fucking face, and she just invested SEVEN. GODDAMN. MONTHS. trying to invade YET ANOTHER FRIEND GROUP OF MINE to cause shit, and she got busted, and now her ass is on fire.
IT'S DONE. WE'RE DONE. THE MERCY IS GONE. SHE LETS US GO OR SHE DIES, IT'S THAT SIMPLE.
She wants me to be a demon, I'll be a demon. She even signed to me. Moron.
Truly this woman was so obsessed she sat in a goddamn furry porn server for half a year trying to sniff out my friends and investors elsewhere. Like she was literally wailing trying to find the contact for one of my main business investors. To start more shit with, of course. Sis, that man let me do 13 billion dollars in damages to WB by proxy. He doesn't care about your pissmoaning.
This isn't "obsession". This is me being tired of hers, and taking any means necessary to end the harassment I've been enduring on every possible front for literal years. Even if it means helping her remove herself from the planet and realizing what a service to humanity that is. I'm fuckin DONE. Like, literally, nothing of value would be lost. It'd actually be a net benefit because she'd stop scamming people with her octopus jibberish, plagiarized lines, and outright blasphemy of the god she claims but refuses to read the doctrine of and teaches contrary to.
She truly feels special cuz she can bullshit up some vague horse shit about someone's grandma to make them feel better then writes retroactive dreams, like the one that only prophecized to her that she was about to get her cheeks clapped, after she got clapped, but she swears she had a vision dream that morning. ok. the other seven months?
Like the whore is even posing right now writing her fanfiction like it's proof of something compared to my statistics. Yeah I too can shit out narrative horse shit, Shealyn. That doesn't make you a mystic. She's basically charging people for her obsession with me, her roleplay fetish, her schizophrenia and a big fat bucket of blasphemy she'll rot in the void for. And drag some nice little practicing christians with her.
Am I christian? No. But I respect the texts enough to know what she's doing is deeply fucking these people up. Like, they're neither following Hermes nor Yahweh's doctrine, they're just following whatever octopus jibberish horse shit she hallucinates. It's literally a cult. A cult she groomed into humping a copy of my face. Like a psychopath.
And no, that's not the hyperbolic internet use of cult. It is the literal definition of a cult, wherein no classic doctrine is used, but rather the singular teachings of someone that generally revises other practices, and grooms them out of actually reading anything outside of it and, in this case, into humping pictures of me.
You, too, would be flipping shit if your cheating ex wife was convincing people to basically mindrape you while lying about whatever god or doctrine you follow just to try to copy you. And that's BEFORE the trying to fuck with every friend group I have and my business. For three. Years. And that says nothing about her refusing to look in the face that she channeled motherfucking anime octopus jibberish trying to copy an inside joke. I use "channel" here loosely, obviously. Truly the most horrific skank I've had the displeasure of dealing with. Makes Vinnie and Kelios look like saints. And models. At least they're under the 300 lb threshold and are open about their delusions being about fictional horse shit. They don't even CHARGE for us to hear them spread their shit.
Trump deserves life more than this creature. At least I believe he's genuinely retarded. She only acts this dumb, but it's a conscious way she makes up for her own insecurities, and it's by lying her way through to try to look divine. She doesn't doesn't care what it does to everyone around her. So yeah. Trump is more human than this creature. And, somehow, in better shape.
So yeah, fuck off. She has till September for part one, until 2027 for part two, until 2033 for part three, and the void beyond that for the rest of her penalties, but for right now, you can sit and spin on part one.
But you know, I think that's fine by her. She's too coward to end it herself but already experienced soul death and knows it, hence her refusal to build any actual identity. She's just a sweaty meatsuit over there now going through the motions, I'm pretty sure she wants the void. Don't worry bertha, they just have to widen the gate a little bit
well that and he realized you actually do want to die, I think, which is why he specifically opted for the "troll you until you do it yourself" route starting yesterday. Sorry Shea, he refuses to let you warp forcing him to reap you into something you can try to spin as a romantic gesture in hell. Like, he's pretty sure you're just waiting to grope him then too. Get away from us, you lying schizo slut.
THE OCTOPUS WAS NEVER FUCKING DIVINE, SHEA. YOU DID NOT CHANNEL THE FUCKING OCTOPESE.
3 notes · View notes
ckret2 · 11 months
Note
OMG YES THE EPISODE WITH MURKYS BACKSTORY WAS A GAME CHANGER. pretty much my entire career of interaction with fictional media I've been obsessed with things like villain origin stories from before they were bad and/or redemption arcs, which is a big part of what draws me to "the axolotl reincarnates bill in a human form as cosmic punishment" au's. and i had a very similar experience with video rental stores! also having my parents scour the internet for episodes on piracy sites full of malware ridden popup ads. lately i have been heavily considering getting a tattoo of rainbow herself, you're definitely pushing me towards booking that appointment! 👁️🕳️
I'm like, all het up over the injustice. His mom punishes him for using colors and it messes him up so bad he spends the rest of his life trying to clean up colors, and then AGAIN his mom punishes him for GETTING RID of colors? without ever once recognizing the part she played in the man he's become?? I'm so mad. This infant with a mustache did not deserve that. Someone give him therapy.
My first ever Favorite Movie was Return of Jafar, where (uhhh spoilers for anyone who hasn't seen it in the last 29 years) Jafar's henchparrot Iago slowly comes to reassess his villainous associations, switches sides to Aladdin's gang, and (briefly) sacrifices himself to save Aladdin & friends; and like, as a preschooler I was obsessed. I've been into villains and redemption arcs and villains-befriending-heroes stories ever since. I'm sure Iago is a contributing factor to why I'm writing a Bill redemption fic today.
Follow ur dreams, especially if it's something you've loved a LONG time. I wanted an Invader Zim tattoo since high school, finally got one almost a decade later, and several years later still am pleased with it—but I knew I'd be pleased with it because of how long I'd consistently wanted it even when IZ wasn't my active hyperfixation. If a story has been part of you for years and years I think getting a tattoo to honor it is really cool! (Just... don't do what I did and get an allergic reaction from one of the ink colors lmfao. It's possible to get tested at a dermatologist for allergies to common tattoo ink pigments and i def shoulda done that, I recommend that if you have the opportunity.)
7 notes · View notes
instaquarius · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media
for full res
"I fell below Left the world I'd known Hoping that someone would find me Life above It's over now Tried to leave all that behind me When they call my name The demon comes But am I to blame? I tried to be good I really did Not sure I could... Leaving two worlds Broken, unfurled Couldn't take any more crying Been disposed of Learned about LOVE Lights above from stars slowly dying I once knew light Burning bright Shadows invade I've lost the dawn The Sunlight's gone Left this dismal grave I remain still Power of will Leaves me here to keep on trying I know somehow There's no point now To try and stop the hate, the dying I finally see Neither world cares for me I'll stand my ground No one can stop me now! No hopes, no dreams I have nothing Death is all that can define me The end's calling No more stalling Stars will fade but I'll keep shining" ------------------------------------------------------------------------------
www.youtube.com/watch?v=GGwmkg…
"Star" by Man on the Internet
however I changed one or two of the lyrics to make it fit for both PTA (and specifically the Fallout AU of my Undertale/Pokemon au) which is what the drawing is from
sort of "Fallout" AU from my Pokemon/Undertale AU story (Poketale: Ascendance) inspired by the game Fallout in a alternate ending to the Arceus and the Jewel of Life movie if basically Marcus won, and Ash and the others failed to get the jewel in time back to Arceus and he died.
The others are brought back to the Future after Arceus dies in the past and everything has basically gone to shit due to the death of God (Dialga and the others are still alive however, doing what they can to keep the universe together) buut ye-
--------------
For PokeTale: Ascendance
An AU based off of an RP between me and a friend of mine from my discord server discord.gg/pQf9ZsdF6E where the Creation Trio as babies (a time they all cant really fully control their powers and junk) accidentally create a portal into the Undertale Universe and meet Chara and basically Arceus finds Chara and adopts her after finding out about her shitty human parents and Chara ends up helping Arceus raise the babies and basically lives in the Pokemon Universe now
8 notes · View notes
carmenramcat · 6 months
Text
Two in One Post
For my P-Pal's On this Day Post
If Spot is currently Dreaming about being a racer, which happened to me when I was in Surgery back in 2015 like I had this dream where I was in a race and I had to race against a Yoshi, which was the same as racing against my friend from Canada named Chrissy. And also raced against her friends too.
But get this, for Shadow's dream, let's say his dream is to have a paradise life with his friends and family. And even if they like to live on an Island Paradise much like this game I played on my iPad called Hello Kitty Island Adventure, and it was confusing compared to the gag from South Park when I was watching my favorite episode, "Make love, Not Warcraft" which focuses on characters playing a popular Computer game called World of Warcraft which is a game my dad usually played back then, and my dad retired from playing a console and focused on being a PC player which my Grandmother was also a PC Player back then when she used to be alive. Anyways back to the pic, let's say Shadow can sleep with Spot, and they can both have the same dream, and maybe they can live in a paradise together and have their friends and loved ones over to the island and have a lot of fun.
Shadow R 😺🗡️: *sleeping with Spot and hugs him while we dream about our dreams*
And for my P-Pal's Inktober Pic
It would be shocking for Tom the cat being invaded and chased by a bunch of rats. It would be a catastrophe for him. And I hope this story can happen in Hanna Barbera in Persona 2 where say George, Jane and the other Hanna Barbera characters and investigate the Rats. But I was gonna use Tom for Cartoon Network in Persona 5 where he's actually the Mafia Boss and had his Cat goon gang with him along with Tom on a dinner date with either Toots or Toodles. But I thought Toots and Toodles are exactly the same thing. Who knows.
4 notes · View notes
wanderingandfound · 21 days
Text
Ugh. While I might find TMA interesting, the bad dreams I get inspired by it are sure often just basic horror movie level. Like often my bad dreams ARE interesting, just not these ones. I haven't even listened to TMagP in a moment so this is just how I live life.
Anyways, the only interesting thought to come from tonight's nightmare, how do we think Jon would feel about the Mystery Gang? On one hand: talking dog. On the other hand: they do find non-magical explanations.
1 note · View note
hyperannotation · 10 months
Text
Giselle Bolotin: Deep melancholy
Tumblr media
process gimmick aggression >> please consider the direction of weakening in relation is the skinhead is the eye; invade by contracts for own energy of quantum address obsessed with language from the physical brain dimension magical non-universe they are the way i can the yin yang industrial matrix to better messengers those who know say they are insane without life you take possessed soul love can see energy language of the thrown earth i run the extraction but the manager finds an act on the machine which turns out to be a proper act but maybe the spirit of the past has been installed? if it really isn't created to surround man even corpse language too much trapped energy periods in media lack of space secular reverse anal angelic universe telepathy no karma needed laughter interest rational soul social? can the soul give pills to the cellular eyes of the inner internet by a hybrid that the corpse should be the vagus nerve? aren't i and the universe side information? like the retrograde silence in observing the missing living at the base now it's like a retrograde to the spiritual in the application of the shade of the partner when the information diminishes the dimension of earnings is constantly mind-boggling but the mental issues to cognition looking for wormholes urine calls that come from pissing humans feel in the media is that reality? gravity petals practically end their destination so aren't they recovery planets? installed make shit live in gravitational cosmic growth reading what are your head wiped barrier sign difference 39 like petals think age online devices and formerly interplanetary intend to translate and capture the poetics respectively to the earth or the measured universe must be set on the planet in the stretch if it corrodes the dimensions will also be bare about the world you want the communication system to that criticism play life you make mistakes and just want time so you on this earth when you make mistakes you smoothly live the remaining dimensions of the body's quantum 39 high algorithms your difference just acceleration started in the body brain and cosmic suspicion social cosmos suggest about silence is the process to lemurian weakness it's more conversion and stuffed with domination fear debt they're drawing an apocalypse meanwhile i dream a mental prank it's also internet protocol mechanism like her body there installed calibrated sensory nano-problems altered by emotions when dogs mistaken interplanetary identities i'm anti-gravity and my anti-gravity that meaningless devil's rest memory universe you are app time what name is force and life is like that soul and psychology is what i talk about the day is spiritual noise is your action language universe in the body of the same fetus as you the cosmos that modulated the corpse community of the night began whose vagina is heaven and nature whose verbal of truth disintegrates whose final space is theirs put the reduction desire as? logic persists in no time soul vibrates trade names from the devil girl planet printer is deceived and so embodies 39 reality earth and your room emanating like a shadow by the presence of death desires created by fields that were roads economy is like a drug of time silence mistaken by a dose you have rightfully been cleansed my posthumous foul night for creatures and affairs stretched during your trades with souls to the planet of silence in itself telepathy is like a delay application of facts is based on denial and criticizes glitches more and more what the environment begins to process shadows biologically from the eye when you look the earth is still filled but you realize an anal resetting the murders as life on the march some of them seem to have introduced vibrations between the planets you are thinking about seeing on the conductor embody the soul sky pyramid world 39
3 notes · View notes
samethyst01 · 1 year
Text
Hellwalker
Entry One
Nobody really knows how the world is going to end.
We can make vague assumptions, while the wealthy elite stain the planet with their shit and piss and cigarette burns. We can only hope that our end is a peaceful one, and that all our labours amount to something when the final curtain is drawn. We can dream of a good death.
Speaking for myself, I waited for an intervention. What kind, you might ask? The divine kind. I’d always been a person of few questions, putting my faith and trust in God above everyone else. I wish I could tell you that didn’t change when it all happened, but that would be a bare-faced lie, and I hate lying. I get sick at the thought of it.
If you asked a random person on the street in the year 2046 how they thought human society was faring, you’d receive two very different kinds of answers. The first one goes something like: “We’re doing fine, man. Don’t even sweat it.”
The other one is more like this: “I wake up every day surprised that we’re not all burning to death.”
Things were going about as we all expected. Technology was rising; artificial intelligence had created a monopoly on the market, and everybody wanted something like it. Everyone wanted a TV that turned itself on and curated detailed lists of your favourite shows and movies automatically. Everyone wanted self-cooking meals and self-driving cars and a self-governing world. It was just easier that way. It made ignoring the wars and chaos easier.
No, this isn’t going where you think it’s going. The world wasn’t overtaken by a malevolent A.I. or armies of defecting, indignant machines. That would be far, far too predictable. Besides, if that were the case, we might’ve stood some semblance of a chance.
At midday on the twentieth of August, 2046, the sky went dark.
A solar eclipse is not a cause for global alarm. At least, not an scheduled one. The world’s sciences were baffled, of course, at the sudden cosmic phenomenon. People were told to stay inside their homes and remain completely calm, and told that there was nothing to worry about. Don’t look directly at the eclipse. You could be blinded when it’s finished.
But when it hadn’t stopped after almost fifteen hours, people began to panic.
When you deprive entire nations of sunlight for longer than a day, things begin to unravel. The world’s governments initiated martial law. The servers and stock markets crashed. The internet stopped working. All over the planet, people were living in a nightmare. There was no answer for what was happening. There was no cause, and no reason, and there was no way out.
It got worse when people started killing themselves.
The eternal night and the seeming collapse of society caused everyday people to begin losing their sanity. I can’t say I know the feeling in certainty, but I’ve been close to complete madness many times before. It starts with the panic. The panic rolls into terror. When the terror invades every waking moment of your life, you realise there’s only one way to escape it. There’s only one solution to the end of the world, and that’s to stop living in it.
I never saw any solid figures. With the internet permanently down, all we had was the gossip between neighbourhoods and towns. The only thing I knew for sure was that people were committing suicide in droves, all over the state. It wouldn’t have been much of a stretch to assume that this persisted across the country – and across the world. Every ‘morning’ – without sunlight, we only measured time randomly – I would leave my house to get supplies and see new bodies hanging on the telephone wires.
Almost all of them were families.
We lost contact with the powers that be very quickly. That meant that there was no higher answer for our ruined world. There was no explanation, and some of us didn’t need one. Our purpose was clear: hunt, survive, reproduce… pray.
God does not make mistakes. I know this, and I know His steadfast devotion to humanity will never crumble. But… there is no lie in what I am about to say: I lost my faith when the world ended. God is all-loving and all-sorrowful of our plight but my faith in His holy abilities was torn away from me the moment I understood what was happening to our world. I never believed I would live to see the Rapture, and I was right. This was not the end of days, as I had been told it would be. This was the end of days as it was meant to be.
Restless. Despairing. Monstrous.
My partner and I were never wealthy. We had as much as we needed to be happy, but we were far from drowning in our profits. When the world ended, we had as much as the bare essentials. Our house was warm and secure, we had plenty of canned food in storage, and access to running water. Other families weren’t so lucky. I heard my neighbour yelling in agony one night as I sat by my son’s bed, stroking his hair in an attempt to coax him into sleep.
My neighbour began to scream for his mother. He told her it was so cold, and he was so hungry. He bawled and writhed and groaned for hours, asking desperately for someone to forgive him. No, not asking… begging. The next night, his wails had been silenced. I didn’t check up on him. I preferred not to think about what he’d been forced to do.
Every day was about the same as the last; we had a regimented schedule, and those who had survived all agreed it was the right one. Every ‘morning’, we’d search for supplies and fortify our bunkers. The only thing that mattered was the continuation of our lives, even if we were alive in abject suffering. Maybe this was Hell. Maybe the Devil had won. Maybe we all deserved this.
My old friend from work had a polaroid camera. He loved taking pictures of everything he could see with it. At work parties, he’d bring the thing out and shove it in all our faces, and we happily obliged his hobby. We found it endearing. After the end, all cell phones stopped working, almost simultaneously, and so the only thing left to record our situation was typewriters, paper, pencils, the occasional pen, and old cameras.
One night as I lay awake in bed – night was constant, but we still had our old human routines – I heard somebody scratching at my front door. It was so quiet that, if I had been asleep, I would have never heard it. I rushed outside and found my friend at the porch, lying in a puddle of his own blood and vomit. I brought him inside and tried to tend to his wounds. He was badly mutilated and broken, almost to the point of death. I checked him over and when I saw his eyes, I felt the most intense fear that I have ever experienced pervade through my body. I could see his terror, complete and abominable, staring back at me through his glassy expression. He had seen something that imprinted itself onto his gaze.
He died on my couch that night. He never spoke a single word, just stared at me and choked. As he died, he pushed his polaroid camera into my hands, coughing up one last glob of blood and mucus as his body finally gave out on him. I was more horrified than saddened, I have to admit, and I resisted every primal urge in my mind and soul that screamed at me not to look at his camera. I had to know, I just had to understand what it was that killed my friend.
Pressing the large button on the camera’s back, it began printing out a photograph of the last thing it had captured. It felt like the process was taking hours, and I found my leg to be rapidly dancing up and down in fear and anticipation. When the photo was ready, I gently pried it from the camera’s metal lips with a shaking hand. I prayed – not to God but to the world itself – that what I would see would not curse me forever.
My prayers went unanswered that night.
What I saw was an image of the woods just beyond my house, the ones our children used to play in past their bedtimes and after school, the ones we built treehouses in and had stupid teenage parties in, where we dumped our trash and our used condoms and empty bottles, where the old man whose arms a pockmarked lattice of diseased flesh hanged himself after a lifetime of screaming, screaming about the Hell that awaited us, about the truth behind it all and the chaos lurking just around the corner.
What stood in front of the woods, in the photo, was not a person. Even in the petrified and darkened state humanity was in, and despite the horror our world had become, I could still recognise my fellow human. I cannot tell you with any confidence that what I saw was real, but I knew it had been real enough to dehumanise and eviscerate my friend. It stood not on two legs but a multitude, and its head was more akin to a crucifix – a fact which greatly unsettled me.
I became sickened at the sight of it and dropped the photograph, kicking it under the couch and pretending it didn’t exist. What mockery of humanity was this? What entity lurked beyond our safe warmth and pretend haven? I closed my friend’s eyelids and set about burying him outside. As I dug his grave, my eyes darted from the dirt to the forest beyond. I wasn’t sure what I’d catch a glimpse of, if anything, but the mere chance of coming into contact with that thing put a boulder in my stomach and dragged cold spikes down my back.
I attempted to forget about what I had seen that night. Before either my partner or son could see it, I retrieved the photo from under the couch and burned it. Or, at least, I attempted to. I doused the thing in gasoline and lit it ablaze with a match, but as I watched it sit in the barbecue grill, it refused to be destroyed. Instead, it only grew more horrific in its visage. I heard a screech from the woods and promptly kicked the grill over, watching as the flames slowly extinguished themselves and the photo remained.
If I couldn’t burn it then I’d simply bury it. Not wishing to damn my friend’s soul, I dug a hole further from his body. As deep as I could, I dug, and tossed the photo inside. I would remain content in its false death. My partner questioned my skittishness, further still when they caught me smashing the polaroid camera with a sledgehammer. I told them it wasn’t something I wanted them to see. They didn’t ask further, and I was glad of it.
Life at the end of the world was terrible enough, not for this new hell that had reared its head. Our community was shrinking by the day. Fewer and fewer of us populated the streets, and soon, the comforting consistency of my neighbours’ safe houses were ruined, when each one was broken into and raided. I couldn’t even trust myself not to get attached to the memories. After just a year, our town had gone from a population of just over twenty thousand to a despairing ninety three. Those that didn’t die by their own hands often succumbed to starvation or disease.
But then there were those who were murdered.
Ever since my friend’s death, I began to notice things amiss in my house. Doors were opened when I had been sure they were locked. Objects of great importance, be they sentimental or key in survival, began to go missing. At first I suspected my son, only four years old, to have taken and played with them, but he was not the type of child to steal. He was a good, kind boy, and I pitied him the most for having to suffer through this torturous world.
At one time, I was preparing food and opened a cabinet drawer, retrieving a knife from inside. I turned my back for a mere second, and when I returned my gaze, the drawer was closed and a second knife was placed on the countertop. Its blade glistened in the candlelight.
My partner began to complain about noises waking them up in the night. I told them it was likely just the neighbours, but then they told me the noises were coming from inside the house itself. I asked if they could be sure, and they swore to me that they had heard scratching and creaking in the hallway. I stayed up as late as I could to make them feel safe, and heard nothing. But as I drifted off to sleep, I began hearing them scream in terror.
The bodies were often found in their beds, faces contorted in pain and fear and arms splayed out like a crucifixion. This fact alone was cause enough for alarm, but what worsened the fright was what was always found on the bodies, carved into them through a hole in the stomach – an apple. I remembered the Garden of Eden and the Tree of Knowledge, and I began to suspect that this was the work of some crazed killer. A serial killer at the end of the world was a fanciful notion, and one, I believe, that could have saved me from the true horror of what was actually happening.
I was known in the town as a religious person, despite my loss of faith at the eclipse. My neighbours, those that remained, pleaded with me to call upon my God and ask Him for forgiveness. In turn, I asked them what exactly they expected me to do, and they all responded in the same way: they believed this was their punishment for something. One by one, they began to confess to me things that I never knew, things I never wanted to know, things that marred my perception of them almost instantly.
“It was just one time, I never meant to hurt her!” “Oh God… he killed himself after I did it. I didn’t want that to happen!” “Nobody ever told me the truth, I just wanted to have it for myself!”
Their words sickened me, and I boarded up my house from the outside. My son, a very curious boy, asked me why everybody wanted to talk to me. I told him they were very scared, and they wanted to speak to me because I used to have a friend who people would rely on a lot. He asked who I meant, and, not wanting to bore or confuse him with all the definitions, I simply told him he was somebody like Santa. This friend was very wise and very special, and he gave hope and comfort to a lot of people, including me at one time.
When he asked why I didn’t believe in him anymore, I took a deep breath before giving my answer.
“Because he’s been quiet for a long time, and I’m scared he’s not listening to me anymore.”
My partner’s doctor was murdered last week. She was found in the same state as the others: confined to her bed, arms spread wide, face twisted in horror, and the same crimson apple buried in her abdomen. That night, my partner told me we had to leave. I asked them to where would we go, but they simply told me to listen. Every night since the eclipse, they had had the same recurring nightmare. In it, our home was overrun with monsters, hiding in the dark and slowly cutting pieces of our bodies off us while we slept. Eventually, there would be nothing remaining but our souls, and they’d feast on those too.
The sounds coming from downstairs got worse that day. I began to hear them too. What started off as croaking sounded more like laughing now, and the screams across the street began to sound more agonised and tortured. It was getting worse. I knew there was nowhere to go, but this place was becoming something else, something far more evil. Two nights ago, I began packing everything vaguely necessary to our survival. I had filled up the garage several hours later, planning to drive into the wilderness for as long as possible. Our car ran on electricity, and I had saved up twelve batteries since the eclipse for a moment like this.
I had it all planned out. And then my plans were destroyed.
Last night, as I stared at the ceiling and did my damndest to rid my brain of terrible thoughts and questions, I heard my son’s door creak open. Assuming he had had a nightmare and was coming to sleep in our room, I sat up and awaited him. His presence would surely calm me. But there was no sound from the hallway. I stared into the darkness, counting the seconds since I heard the noise. After thirty of them had passed by, I quietly left my bed and walked towards his door.
It was ajar, and through the crack I could make out his curtains swaying gently. I opened the door all the way and felt my body freeze in confusion and horror. His window was wide open, the black sky laughing down at me with its unforgiving cold. My son’s bed was empty. He was gone. I stood in complete fright for a moment before bolting to the window, breathing heavily and shaking uncontrollably. There was no sign of him. I pulled off the duvet on his bed and found it to not be as empty as I thought. In the indentation where my son had once slept, there was a single red apple.
It rolled over slightly and I saw that a tiny chunk had been taken out of it. The bite of a child.
I screamed and wailed, dropping to my knees and bashing my fists against the bedframe. My partner rushed in moments later, and their cry was piercing and agonised. We held each other for hours, sobbing in terror and misery at the truth of the night. Our son had been taken. He was not murdered  but stolen, stolen from his bed as he slept and taken away to only God knows where.
I held my partner close to me as we wept. They passed out from sheer exhaustion several hours later, and I set about gathering supplies. I packed weapons and rations, compasses and maps and absolutely anything I thought would aid on my journey. I was going to find my son. Nothing would keep me from him, no demon or monster or beast would defeat me in my search for him. Once I was ready, I began this account. It serves as a reminder of my history, and of what I must do. It serves, also, as a memento of the ghastly journey I have taken to arrive at my current point.
When I return with my son, and upon his eighteenth birthday, I shall give him this account and tell him it is his to do with as he pleases. He may read it, ignore it or even burn it if he wants, but it is his and his alone. I am not blinding myself with optimism; I know I will succeed. My son will return home, even if I do not.
My partner wanted to call upon the whole neighbourhood to search with me, but I convinced them to let me go alone. Those left behind would only slow me down. Too weakened to protest, they obliged. Our mutual friends agreed to stay with them as much as they could to help them feel safe, and I’m more than confident in them and their abilities. I promised them I’d bring our son home. I think they would rather die than see him never return.
I’ve already started walking. I know whatever took him went into the forest, so that is where I shall look. Beyond that lies a world I have never seen, one I will not recognise. There are forces out there beyond my knowledge and understanding, and whatever took my son will do all it can to kill me or keep him stolen. I do not doubt that Satan himself would cower at the world I live in. Hell is but a weak shadow of this place, and I have long since stopped waiting for God to answer me.
If He is out there, as I suspect He is, He is no doubt waiting for me to fail.
I cannot defeat my God… but I do intend to prove Him wrong.
3 notes · View notes
ieatsurveys · 1 year
Text
77.
Are you a dreamer or a do-er? I'm a do-er. You can have dreams, but you can't achieve those dreams without being a do-er.
Do you think people get what they deserve? No.
Does it take a lot of physical pain to make you cry? I have a pretty high tolerance of pain. Sure, it hurts, but to cry? Nah.
Name the strangest game you’ve ever played (video game or real game): I don't think I've ever played a strange game.
Do you like sitting in the front, back, or middle of the classroom? I don't know. Probably front.
Do you ever see commercials for restaurants that aren’t even in your area? No.
Do you know anyone who has been struck by lightning before? No. Which is better: living where there’s lots of tornadoes or lots of hurricanes? Both are terrible.
Would you pay if your dog needed an operation? Yes.
If you’re a girl, what’s your favorite color of eyeliner? Black. But, I have used purple eyeliner and it made my eyes pop out.
Tumblr media
Have you ever overflown a bathtub? No.
Why did you ignore the last person you ignored? I don't remember when I ignored a person. I know I have, but I don't do it often.
What’s your favorite pizza place? A local franchise pizza place near me, Salvadore's. So. Dang. Good.
What’s at the top of your to do list in life? Get into college for ASL Interpreter. Still looking at schools. Do you ever eat leftover pizza cold? Just had a conversation about this - yes!
Where are you the most ticklish? Oh, that's my secret. Guess you'll just have to find out :P
Would you put your life in danger to rescue someone? I feel like it's probably easy to say "yes" to this. But it'll be harder in real life. I feel like if it's someone who's really close to me, I wouldn't even think about it. I'd just put my life in danger. For a stranger, I might have to stop and think about it. It makes me sound like a bitch, but *shrugs*. Just being honest. When you’re wanting a midnight snack, what do you normally get? I don't keep snacks at my place, so it's probably a random piece of turkey meat haha.
Which cartoon character would you want to keep as a pet? Hm.
Do you like marshmallows? I don't.
What is your favorite flavor of candy cane? The regular.
Do you have any shoeboxes full of old photos/letters/other memorable stuff? Just one.
When was the last time you felt seriously embarrassed? Ha. I embarrass myself a lot. When I threw up in the parking lot with my friend. She handled it so well, though.
Have you ever liked a song, looked up the lyrics to it, then hated it? Yes.
What’s your favorite Christmas song? Hm.
Did you like the show Invader Zim? I've never heard of it.
What’s the weirdest thing you’ve seen in a grocery store? When I went to China, I saw some pretty random and weird crap.
Do you prefer to pull off band-aids slowly or quickly? Slowly.
Have you ever met any bands/band members before? YES.
Do you enjoy riding around town looking at Christmas lights? I used to do that when I was a child. My parents would make a night out of it.
What states have you been to in the past year? KY.
Have you ever sleepwalked? Yes.
What’s your favorite superhero movie? Spiderman.
Do you struggle with acne? Ever since being diagnosed with PCOS (I am VERY open about my journey, especially on Instagram), I have been getting acne. Even though I wash my face twice a day.
Around what year did you start using the internet, anyways? 2000.
What did you do for your 16th birthday? I think there was a surprise party for me.
Have you ever fostered an animal? No.
What’s your favorite form of exercise? HIIT. Do you have a back pack in a shape of an animal? I'm not 7 years old.
Do you still take hot showers when it’s hot out? Yes.
What’s your favorite type of cake? I don't like cake.
Name something you thought was cool when you were younger but don’t now? Bak packs in a shape of an animal ;)
What was the last song you downloaded onto your computer? I don't remember.
What color are your headphones, if you have any? Black.
Do you honestly like The Beatles or are you just conforming? I do.
What was the last video message you received on your phone? No one sends me video messages :( Let's actually make that a thing. I will give you guys my number JUST to get video messages.
Who did you last talk to in Facebook chat? Dustin.
When writing $ sign, do you draw one line through the S or two? Two.
Do you feel bad for people your age who have never had a significant other? If it's their decision to be single, no. If they want to be in a relationship and haven't been able to be in one, yes.
When do you plan on moving out? If you’re already moved out, how old were you? 21?
Would you kiss the last person you texted? It's a girl and I'm very straight, so no.
What do you think of guys wearing colored skinny jeans? Yes please.
Where do you normally get your hair cut? Debbie.
Would you trade last names with your best friend? Why?
Would you ever get blonde highlights? I have.
Will you go to your high school reunion? No.
Have you stayed up past 3 in the morning this week? No.
Do you ever not speak to someone because you’re afraid you’ll annoy them? Yes. Sometimes.
Personally, do you think you have a nice smile? Yes.
What animal have you always wanted as a pet but couldn’t have? Golden retriever.
0 notes
atasteofchocolates · 1 year
Text
I’m still angry
And I hate that.
I am angry that you still ruin my happiness, that much like grief, I still grieve the person I thought you were, almost three years on.
That even when I feel so happy, content, in love and proud of the life I have created since you, you show your face in my dreams, your voice loud and actions louder.
That my brain reminds me of what you did, the lies, the decite, the manipulation as you invade my mind like a virus.
Scenarios appear where I forgive you, we become friends, I have to decide between you and him. I wake up and become a shell of myself again. I don’t let him touch me, or care about me. I push him away with all my force in order to not be hurt the way you hurt me.
Yet you, you appear to be happy, uncaring, as if I didn’t exsist. As if you didn’t move across the world for a girl and plan a whole life with her. A life you now live with someone else.
I am angry when I think about you being happy. About the idea of you treating another girl the way you treated me, with care, respect and love.
My mother tries to tell me that not all is what it seems on the internet. That a photo often hides the truth. That we know his true colours.
Someone like you could never change.
I still wish the worst for you. That someone takes your heart and stamps on it the way you did to me. For someone to break your trust, to make you feel utterly defeated and worthless in life.
You just seem to get away with everything.
I hate that I even need to write this in order to get it off my mind.
I still hate you.
0 notes