hivemnd-blog

[hivemnd-blog]

dirtypaw.

@hivemnd.

          “  there is a good explanation to everything.  except for this.  only this.  “

          ‘ mm.  is this you asking for an explanation? ’

[hivemnd-blog]

[hivemnd-blog]

herdsheep.

Pluto’s chin tilts back down. Their teeth grind together like they are chewing on a thought as rubbery as blubber.

They let out a shallow laugh; it barely empties their nostrils of air.

          “No ethical objections, no.”

The distinction here is purposeful. Loaded.

          They are not from here  ---  outsiders are treated with faux kindness and great suspicion. The disrespect is noted, but not acknowledged  ---  it is lucky Khthonios is in a good mood, or it might have bitten a sheep, that would have bitten a sheep, that would have bitten a sheep, that would have eaten Pluto alive.

          It is not above such a thing.

          ‘ Wonderful, come with me. ’

[hivemnd-blog]

La Vie En Rose playing from another room Edith Piaf

[hivemnd-blog]

13 / teeming

[hivemnd-blog]

29 / united

[hivemnd-blog]

gestures and colors

[hivemnd-blog]

personalcooperative:

“Doesn’t it get loud?” Tony is genuinely curious. Managing just three other people in this one body is… tedious, to say the least. Exhausting, maybe, is a better word. More often than not, he feels like a babysitter or a kindergartner. Mind, the others have never been able to force him down, so it’s a tad hard to tell what it’s like to experience a hostile takeover such as theirs; he doesn’t know how the whole thing works, really. “Can they still talk to you once you… you know?”

@hivemnd.

          ‘ ah, certainly not. i have ten thousand brains, ten thousand ears, ten thousand eyes. it is easy to listen to ten thousand conversations, all happening at once. is it difficult for you to wriggle a toe while swallowing? to blink while your heart beats? it all comes naturally, my dear boy, it is what i am made for! ’  in fact, it is the opposite that bothers them. the silence, the one brain, two eyes, two ears, that feels like nails on a chalkboard. still, it is different to have one mind in many brains, than many minds in one.  ‘ of course they can, but just as you can ignore your innermost thoughts and desires, i can ignore them. ’

[hivemnd-blog]

memoryserved.

They watch the movement of their wrist twist and curve to catch all the blood on Khthonios face. They don’t watch the blood. There’s gotten to be something strangely insidious about the words ex-girlfriend. Maybe it’s the adjectives that go with it. Maybe it’s just that the types who talk about their ex-girlfriends the most are the ones who have nothing good to say for them. But ex-girlfriend is enough to pull Kennedy’s gaze up either way and find Khthonios’ eyes without lingering too much on the redness all around them. “What’d you do that probably deserved that?”

          ‘ she wasn’t an ex before she hit me. ’  this is what people do, isn’t it? regular, human people, with lives and relationships and conflict. slap a boyfriend for infidelity, or the simple act of ending things without reason. such fickle, emotional creatures. khthonios dreams of a world free from conflict  ---  perfect harmony. it wonders why humans are so non-compliant, when all it wishes for is world peace. haven’t they claimed to want that?

          ‘ people can get so worked up over such small things, don’t you think? ’ 

[hivemnd-blog]

:o| faces :-)

[hivemnd-blog]

shadows

[hivemnd-blog]

memoryserved.

   “Nh –” Yes. Every time. You typically don’t judge a book by its cover because it could say ‘i threw the first punch’ inside. Kennedy fishes a sudden pack of tissues from their coat pocket and offers the lot at arm’s length. “Is that – did you brain yourself on the pavement, or is that more, action type blood.”

They move their hand, letting thick blood run down their face. Fragile things, human bodies. People really do hit their head once and die. It was so easy to draw blood. Draw enough of it, and you’ll die again. Find one artery with something sharp enough to pierce it, and you’re dead once more. Khthonios is a being with many parts, all as strong as you are, and together, much stronger. They take the tissue, wipe their hands, and begin to clean their face.

‘ Action type. Ex-girlfriend. I probably deserved it. ’

[hivemnd-blog]

herdsheep.

Pluto lifts their chin up. High enough that they can look down at the taller stranger, eyes half lidded.

          “I am a shepherd, not a butcher.”

It almost rolls its eyes, but, somehow, manages not to. What do they eat? Grass? Rocks? It notices that the dog only has three legs.

          ‘ How inspiring. Tell me, traveller, would you like to stay for tea? Milk and leaves  ---  surely you have no ethical objection there. ’

[hivemnd-blog]

@herdsheep

          ‘ Why so many? ’  It looks so distasteful about the presence of sheep, even in the countryside.  ‘ Surely one is enough for eating, for such a tiny thing. ’

[hivemnd-blog]

@memoryserved / call

They’ve been hit in the face. Or, it looks like they have. Look weak, garner sympathy, pounce. They have been watching through the eyes of birds.  “I don’t suppose you have a tissue?”

[hivemnd-blog]

rick: *wakes up morty at 3 am* pretty fucked up that people assume unity is a girl. it’s a hive-mind. morty? wake up, morty. listen. it’s sexless.

[hivemnd-blog]

timetear.

The Luteces do not smile. This is not a declaration of their reaction. This is an objective fact: the Luteces do not smile. Their postures are clinical–spines as straight as freshly ironed button-ups, hands clasped together in front of them (tightly, like covalent bonds), faces cold and analytical (Rosalind’s degrees colder than Robert’s).

          “Good,”  “better,”  “best.”

Language is heterogenous. A word in its neutral, unused state is homogenous, having a single meaning. In use, words gain a unique measure of meaning by the user and the listener, resulting in two opposing meanings, rendering them uncorrelatable, untranslatable. Good, better, best: the meaning between them all are both infinite and null–a total lack of concurrent validity.

Now, something not cold, not clinical: there is a spark in the Luteces eyes. The other excites their interests, piquing them above baseline. Beyond this, they do not show their attraction.

         “One would not ask Beethoven what each piano key means.”  “One would simply ask him to play.”

The thing that is no longer a woman smiles wider, showing its teeth. When it finds one unlike the others, one who does not quite know them, one who has not lost family, friends, pets, neighbours and school teachers, to Khthonios’ bite, they are inclined to corner such a creature. France is lost. The unassimilated have made a home in the sewers, while Khthonios lounges about Versailles. 

There is no anger. No violence. Only efficiency and uniformity. For the first time in a long time, Paris is clean, and the people are polite. 

“Have you ever visited France? It’s such a beautiful place."

A car pulls up.

“Perhaps you’d like a tour.”