edgista - Tumblr blog

[edgista]

We need it uwu

Breathe. It's okay. You're going to be okay. Just breathe. Breathe, and remind yourself of all the times in the past you felt this scared. All of the times you felt this anxious and this overwhelmed. All of the times you felt this level of pain. And remind yourself how each time, you made it through. Life has thrown so much at you, and despite how difficult things have been, you've survived. Breathe and trust that you can survive this too. Trust that this struggle is part of the process. And trust that as long as you don't give up and keep pushing forward, no matter how hopeless things seem, you will make it.

— Daniell Koepke

[edgista]

How the fuck is Chewbaca child friendly? He is pratically naked.

[edgista]

every day just feels like

[edgista]

UWU

Greed and I have a lot of elaborate headcanons and AUs for the characters from idV, but one of my personal favorites I’ve come up with is on what’s going on with Lucky Guy and by extension the Manor Owner:

We know Lucky was at the manor before anyone else except maybe Leo, who certainly isn’t talking about it now. We also know that Lucky Guy is just a nickname the original group of our game’s survivors gave him, and he himself doesn’t remember or won’t recount anything that happened before they got there. 

We don’t know how Lucky got to the Manor or why, but we do know that his only skill is that he has a better chance than anyone else at getting the chests to give him the item he wants. All the items he can get are other survivor’s props, as he has no unique prop of his own.

Now, with the Manor Owner, we have no idea who the manor owner is, what they might look like, or even what they are. We don’t have any idea of what Miss Nightingale’s relationship to the Manor Owner is, only that she relays communications from him to the manor inhabitants.

What if whatever entity the Manor Owner is isn’t separate from the Manor itself? What if the Manor Owner is the Manor? What if the Manor Owner is the force keeping everyone there, running the magic and the games, keeping everyone in what seems to be a timeloop where they kill or die over and over again. 

We know the physical building and grounds of the Manor do exist in idV’s reality, so I mean some kind of extradimensional entity that inhabits/fits itself over a real location, copies it and traps creatures inside the copy, where those creatures (prey items of some kind, although it probably feeds on the emotions generated during the games rather than anything physical) are under it’s direct control. 

Miss Nightingale could be trapped just as much as everyone else. The Manor Owner is obviously very powerful, whatever it is. If that entity has access to multiple realities/dimensions, that would explain why she’s a harpy when we know those probably weren’t a thing even in the more magical time periods the human survivors and once-human hunters seem to be from. 

And that explains Yidhra (Dream Witch). She could also be from ~elsewhere~ like Nightingale. This also explains why the manor owner is strong enough to trap an actual eldritch god like Hastur (Feaster), even if Hastur doesn’t seem very strong for a god*.

Now, back to poor Lucky. Here’s some of his in-game text:

It is perfectly natural for someone with nothing to rely on luck. 

His world is like a slot machine that he always wins at. But who knows what will happen when he stops playing.

Lucky doesn’t remember where he came from, and doesn’t have any known connection to the world outside the Manor. All the other survivor and hunter props are separate from the maps themselves, while Lucky’s trait is to be able to affect a part of the map itself (the chests).

What if Lucky isn’t from outside the Manor? 

What if Lucky is something the Manor Owner made, another prop for the games. It’s useful to have someone who’s always there before the other survivors start showing up, who can show them how the play the game, who serves as motivation to cooperate. Who’s memory has been wiped so many times that he’s getting buggy, but that doesn’t matter if he’s not supposed to remember anything besides how to play the game anyway. He’s an actual tutorial character who made it into the full game, after all, so why not assume the Manor Owner is using him for the same thing within the world of idV?

Lucky has nothing, no backstory, no name, no deduction lines, because he’s not from anywhere else. He doesn’t have them now because he never did. He’s part of the Manor. And if he stops playing the game, well… 

What happens to toys when their owners no longer want to play with them? All those discarded dolls and puppets around the manor came from somewhere.

One last thing about this particular headcanon of mine: if the Manor Owner isn’t exactly corporeal, how does he communicate with Miss Nightingale? He could just make her Know Things, perhaps, but this is a horror game and where’s the fun in that.

But Lucky, everyone knows his memory is bad. There are mornings he wakes up tired without knowing why. Nights he didn’t seem to dream. Nights when, if you happened to be in the hallways of the Manor, you might see him walking to the Illusion Hall. 

If you followed him, you might see Miss Nightingale bow when he enters. Then you might see Lucky’s head jerk suddenly back, his body unnaturally stiff, and when after a long moment he moves again, turns to face Miss Nightingale with suddenly different body language, you might hear a different, deeper voice coming from his mouth. 

And if they don’t see you, don’t catch you, you might run back to your room, climb into bed and pull up the covers, and try to forget what you saw.

Maybe it’s not the hunters you have to worry the most about after all.

~

*As an aside, my headcanon for Hastur is that he’s the extradimensional equivalent of a ephyra larva (the floating but still pre-jellyfish lifestage of a jellyfish) of his species. The lake cult was his polyp phase. His being in the manor may be sort of a combination of a wild-caught octopus spending a year in an aquarium before being released and a rich kid’s year abroad before college.

-⚰️ 

[edgista]

Living with ghosts - Bunny (on Wattpad) https://my.w.tt/8tAUotEiT7 A collection of horror and dark fantasy short stories I wrote. Also, some paranormal journalism and spooky events I experienced. ENJOY!

[edgista]

Tamagotchi Quest

Welcome to 2020, the year of forest fires, pandemic, and lockdown -- a paradise. I toss the remote at the TV. In a sweet shatter of glass, my Netflix marathon is over. My eyes close as the phantom Tik Tok music rings in my ears. I eye my diary with pages falling out of it. I am bored out of my mind. Then a thought clicks in my head, my Tamagotchi! A strange urge takes over my body. I stand up from my messy, lotion smelling bed. Invisible pins and needles prickle my sleepy legs.

  No, the Tamagotchi is probably dead by now. Maybe it has a family now. I walk out of my basement. My eyes feel as if they are on fire as I step into the living room light.

  “Clean up the basement.” My mom yells, from her prison, the kitchen.

  “Give me 50 minutes,” I enthusiastically yell back. But I am dead inside.     I climb up the creaky stairs to the attic. Once I step in, dust billows around like leaves on an autumn day. I pull my shirt over my nose to not catch lung cancer. I open a box filled with my childhood belongings. Inside is my old star wars lego collection. My skateboard, from my 9-years-old-skater past. Behind the box, sits my ancient gaming laptop.

  The memories of my mom breaking the screen in a fit of rage fill my mind like a Vietnam-flashback. Next, I check my box again, no Tamagotchi. Perhaps, my sister Ann has it. So I search through her box. I toss her primary school swimming medals out of the way. They clatter on the ground, scattering woodlice. Hell, she loved sports. Ann is the school's top athlete during the days.  Meanwhile, I was underage drinking. I toss her red cross youth badge, as I sigh.

  Ann was a Marine when she was twenty, while I was gaming in my basement when I was finishing high school. She is a military wife, adopting orphans from war zones. Wait, she hates playing with Tamagotchi. I should check Simon’s.

  I knock over stacks of the books Simon had during his bookworm days. Then, I rummage through his science fair medals. He is a genius, I am the average Joe.

 After that, I comb the entire attic for my Tamagotchi. It’s nowhere to be seen. I sit on the floor. Oh dear, how I wasted my life on mindless entertainment. I peaked in primary school. A pang of remorse makes me queasy. The clock in the corner ticks away with my wasted youth.

 But I still have plenty of time left. I storm down to my basement and delete my Steam account. It’s time to make a change.

Image source: https://www.eonline.com/news/843044/the-original-tamagotchi-is-back-so-prepare-to-never-get-any-work-done-ever-again

[edgista]

Some kid handed an essay written in wingdings in class.

This happened in 5th grade.

[edgista]

It’s not a normal day

Jamie awakes to the snarls of the approaching zombies. From a distance, he can tell they’re in the hallway of his floor.

“The alarm is blaring. I am late for work,” he tells himself, stuttering each syllable. He hastily slips into his pants, fumbling with the zipper.

“OW!” His zipper has caught the dong.

"Get out of here. They heard you." Jamie mutters.

In a strident bang the door of his apartment slams onto the ground, as zombies swarm the room gnashing their teeth.  

He grabs his Bug-Out bag, throws the window open.

The zombies face the creak of the window hinge. Then they scramble over, knocking furniture over.

“I need to get my car.” He hops out of the window. Just as the zombies throw themselves at him.

Jamie grasps a pipe. Watching the zombies toss themselves three stories below. “There is no gasoline in the cars anymore.”

Jamie swings his free hand onto another pipe. He climbs to the roof. He looks down to see zombies climbing after him. He kicks one in the face. Another snaps at his ankles. Jamie hoists himself over the anti-suicide railing.

As his blood races, he tells himself. “I am in a mad rush in traffic. It is a Monday.”

Jamie dashes towards the ledge of the roof and leaps. He lands and rolls. He gets onto his feet and continues sprinting. The zombies are a few yards behind him.

“My boss is angry,” Jamie huffs.

Jamie leaps onto another rooftop. He slides down a house’s roof and pounces onto another. He looks behind him, panting and inhaling the smokey air. Watching the zombies following his exact movements.

“Shit, they are learning how to chase.”

He continues his flight. It’s been half a year since the Covid-19 mysteriously mutated into the zombie virus.

Jamie has spent six-months burrowing in his apartment as chaos erupted around the world.

Jamie leaps over an alley. Then he plummets. He clings onto the side of the roof as the zombies bare their black teeth behind him. Jamie’s heart pounds in his chest as the zombies disappear from view. He looks upwards.

A zombie roars into his face. Jamie slips. “I am at my office talking about cat videos with that hot accountant chick.” He assures himself with his delusion as he falls.

Thump! He lands in a pile of ancient rubbish. Roaches crawl onto him. Jamie shrieks as the zombie falls towards him. A loud gunshot shakes him to his core. The corpse of the zombie, missing half of its head,  flops onto him.

He blinks, hoping everything is a nightmare and he is living out his normal life. A gloved hand reaches out to him.  Jamie clutches it, feeling the first human warmth he has felt in months. He climbs out of the stinking bin. Two people covered with blood-stained scarves, with heavy hoods obscuring their faces, stare at him.

“We are the marauders. Welcome to the gang.”

“Um… I am late to work.” He stutters in awe, looking at the first people he has seen in a long while.

People laugh. He stares down at his feet.

The person on the left says. “There is no job to go back to.” He has the gruff voice of a middle-aged man.

The other person, a girl, says in a softer tone, “Should we take him back to base?”

“No, this guy doesn’t even know where he is. We can’t add crazies into our ranks.”

“I know. I am just coping,” Jamie affirms.

Jamie thinks, “It’s about time I let go of the delusion. Things will get to normal.”

The girl cheers, “C’mon let’s get going.”

Jamie smiles as he follows them into the desolate city, one foot behind finally not alone.

[edgista]

Not writing related, but I fucking love these birbs.

[edgista]

I kinda want to continue this prompt.

“That’s my cat,” the hero said.

“No. It’s mine,” the villain retorted, eyes narrowed. 

“…It’s a stray.”

“I feed it!” 

“I feed it too! Oh, what now?” the villain waved their weapon around in frustration, “Are you gonna tell me that you have a name for it?” 

“…Yes.”

“Well, screw you, I have a name for it too.” 

[edgista]

TIME TO DO EVERYTHING OPPOSITE OF THIS LIST!!!!

because i’m a little salty

i sometimes worry about certain types of writing advice i see on the twitter sphere in terms of neglecting your physical health. maybe this was just a few one-offs or whatever but i’m usually going, “hmm, are you five or are you thirty?”

so that said:

Please use the restroom when you need to. Don’t wait until you’ve reached whatever wordcount you’ve set for yourself. This is how you get UTIs and other bladder infections, and if you’re in the US, that can be expensive to treat. (Also, UTIs suck. Speaking from experience).

While coffee is a quick energy giver, you will crash. And it will suck. Too much can cause the shakes. It’s okay to consume coffee if you like it! But try to go for an alternative healthy route if at all possible. If you like tea, drink tea. But be sure to drink water!

That said, take breaks when necessary and EAT!! Make a small snack or make lunch or dinner or start meal prepping. It’s okay to step away and do something else. Writing isn’t a be all, end all sort of situation. You will get stuck if your brain isn’t being given sustenance.

Experiencing wrist/hand pain is a very good sign to stop. Either for the day, or for awhile. Do some stretches, go outside if you can.

“I write for days on end, barely any sleep” isn’t healthy. Your brain needs to rest. Your eyes need to rest. This is a surefire way to get yourself very sick, very easily. (I speak from experience, but I don’t have the best immune system. If someone is sick, I tend to pick up whatever they have after a day or two so. I mean, this is dependant on the person).

TAKE BREAKS. ESPECIALLY WHEN YOU GET TIRED!

Anything that promotes neglecting your needs is advice to be ignored.  Idfc if they have “New York Times #1 Seller” in their profile, if they’re suggesting you neglect your physical needs for hours, ignore them. 

This is supposed to be fun.

This is supposed to be fun.

It’s okay if you don’t write for a few days, it’s okay if you don’t finish a novel in a month. Seriously, take your time. This is not a race. Yes, you might want to finish the rest of your story within a couple of days, but don’t push yourself until you burn out. You’ll likely just hate yourself in the end.

tl;dr: i’m a grumpy old person who hates seeing advice that promotes unhealthy activities, whether in jest or in seriousness. there is someone out there who will take it seriously. when you’re writing, just take care of yourself.

(even take this with a grain of salt lmao)

[edgista]

Maybe I should post something.

A Collection of horrors

Hi all! Today I’m excited to present the May/August event here at alexprompts, which is…

A Collection of Horrors will be a collection of short stories and images in the horror genre.

I’m hoping to turn it into a PDF which is free and accessible, along with using the usual masterpost format I previously have used on this blog. This will be uploaded sometime in September or October depending on how the formatting goes. Any name you would like attached will be included, along with your tumblr username at the time of upload.

How to get involved

To get involved in this collection of stories, all you need to do is create your story or image following these guidelines and be following @alexprompts​. Please also reblog this to help spread interest! 

Make sure to also tag @alexprompts​ in the piece so I get notified about your work, and to include #alexpromptsacollectionofhorrors in the tags.

Works can be uploaded from the 1st of May. You can upload multiple submissions, however depending on the amount of participation only one may be included. Please label the one you want included as such.

Please also include any name you would like to be credited as.

STORIES

The guidelines for stories are as follows:

the piece needs to be between 500 and 3500 words. Please include a word count in your post somewhere

anything particularly graphic or triggering needs to be tagged appropriately as such with relevant warnings

an image can also be included that you associate with your story, however it needs to be an original one (created by yourself).

IMAGES

The guidelines for images are as follows:

any submitted image needs to be original

all forms of art are welcome

if an image is particularly graphic or contains images that may be triggering to some, please tag appropriately with the relevant warnings

Taglist Information:

The Collection of Horrors taglist is open for those who are interested! If you are, please send a message, ask or reply to be added.

Below the cut is the current alexprompts taglists. This is the only circumstance under which you will be tagged in this, including in reminders and the final collection post unless you ask otherwise or are on the permanent taglist. 

Keep reading

[edgista]

No matter how much effort I put, I will never succeed.

[edgista]

The Corner of the Window

The child jolts awake to a vase shattering on the floor. Muffled yells of his parents vertebrate from outside the door. He sighs as he switches his lamp on, knowing sleep is not there for him tonight. Maybe it’s time to make mommy and daddy stop. He walks out of his room, careful not to trip on scattered articles of clothing and toys.

His ears pick up the sound of something scratching the corner of the window. Scratch, scratch, sounds like a branch. No, the only trees are across the street. His eyes adjust to the glare of the hallway light. Stabbing his eyes like knives, another crash echoes from the living room.

A roar booms from his father’s mouth. The child screams.

“Mom! Dad! Stop! Please!”

He races down the stairs to the living room.

“Mom, please just stop. I want you to stop fighting. Just stop.”

The child pleads, with tears in his eye, "stop.”

His dad weeps as he clutches the gash on his head. Blood forms a puddle on the floor, the child backs away, as his mom storms into the kitchen. His dad mouths two words.

“Go back to your room.”

The child nods and trots to his room. His eyelids weigh on his eyeballs, wanting to close. He shuts the door of his room, the scratching continues. It always happens when his parents are arguing. He curls up on his bed.

There is silence, maybe they finally stopped. He creeps down the stairs into the living room. From the stairs, he sees his father lying limp with a knife sticking out of his neck. His mother heaves in front of the body. The child bites his lip. As his mother turns to face him.

He darts into his room. His mother’s footsteps thump up the stairs as if she is a beast from hell. He slams the door of his room shut.

“I wish they could just keep doing it.” He tells himself, as his eyes release a waterfall of tears.

A deep voice whispers into his ear. “Open the window.”

His mother marches down the hall at a rapid pace.

The child’s fingers fumble the locks. Click, he pushes it wide. The warm summer air floods into his room. Just as his mother bursts in, knife in hand. A hand with long, slender black fingers extends from the window and wraps around the child.

“Stop you monster! You made me k-.”

In a waft of dead leaves, her child vanishes into the darkness. Never to be seen again.

Art: By Edgist A

Story: By Edgist A

[edgista]

Gonna start posting short stories on my tumblr account. #tumblr #shortstories #shortstoriesofinstagram #shortstoriescollection #notebook #notebookdecor #notebookart #notebooklove #notebookcover #notebookdoodles #fiction #writingcommunity #writing #writerslife #shortfiction #art #artwork #artworks #patterns #colours #surreal #warmtones https://www.instagram.com/p/B_X8oYKhDSP/?igshid=1qfcg78f6dyp8

[edgista]

Lulz, I guess I am guilty of that.

Attention all writers

Don’t. Delete. Your work. Don’t throw it away, burn your paper notes and scribbles, character doodles and failed verses. Keep a record of everything you do, every trip and every hilariously bad piece of work. Because often its hard to see the quality of your own work up close. In a few years, you’ll be rummaging around trying to find a different paper, and you’ll find some scrumpled draft scene from a book you started writing but gave up on. And you’ll read through it, and there’ll be lines that /sing/. You won’t recognise your work for the first few lines, and you’ll be thrown out of the writers chair and into the audience for the first time, and you’ll be able to have the magical experience of hearing your own words and not knowing how the sentence ends. And yeah, sometimes it’ll be laughably bad, but then you can see how far you’ve come. And when its not bad, its usually really, really good. Keep your notes. Keep copies of your drafts and keep your old notebooks. You are your own best inspiration.

[edgista]

Update on my previous post “It’s real shit”

Luckily, I don’t have Covid-19. In fact I am still healthy, and alive even. I am starting a novel called Void. Its about a boy who suddenly found himself in a shape shifting hellscape and he has to play 7 games representing the seven deadly sins to escape.

I am using the lock down to my advantage to write it. :)

Image source: https://chrisdevoss.wordpress.com/2012/02/15/since-hollywood-is-out-of-ideas-some-suggestions/