#decomposited

[stillgrows]

@decomposited

A flood of information. Violence, terror, apathy, disconnect, void, all of it connecting and intermingling with even more words than Sigma could think to describe, a horrible torrent, a gaping wound, a tsunami higher than they could see, pulling the world out from under them, their world out from under them, and they were so small, and he knew what they had agreed to, and they were drowning———

Silence. Stillness. Those were the first two things Sigma was aware of. The flood of panic was sequestered to the back of their mind; they were aware of it, of the weight of it, lurking there, pressing and seeking any weakness it could find and threatening to take them over again. But their defenses held—the same defenses that landed them here.

They should have been dead. It was possible they were dead, they supposed. They never had any thoughts about what would come after, even when faced with it. But they didn't think they were dead. They were floating—or were they falling? Drowning again. Panic surged through them once more, the air leaving their lungs in a thoughtless, terrified gasp, bubbles rising upward. They flailed, desperately seeking the surface.

They broke through, coughing and gasping, clearing water that wasn't there from their lungs. Beneath them was the water, its surface solid and smooth despite the ripples. It reflected the starry sky above like a mirror, but their reflection was nowhere to be found. They stood on unsteady feet, not trusting the ground they couldn't see. From this angle, with the stars reflected so clearly on the water they looked to be beneath the surface, it looked like the thick glass floor in the center of the casino.

But there were no stars below. There was the earth and the twinkling lights of cities far below the Sky Casino there, and here there were stars caught in the deep sea.

Sigma's mind was moving slow, still groggy from the onslaught of information their ability had pulled from Dostoevsky, and it was only now that they realized that the improbability of it all made sense in only one context: a dream. The impossibility, the rationalizing... this was a dream, and they—

A quick look-around revealed one part of the dream their mind was doing its best not to parse, or not create. Shadows. The depths of the sea made solid. A current ran a chill through their bones, and for a moment they thought they could see a faint cloud of their breath before it was gone. There was a presence there, just out of sight. They could feel it, even if they couldn't see it.

This may have been a dream, but they were not alone.

"Who are you?" they asked, voice sounding braver and more sure than they felt. Their fists clenched at their sides, manicured nails digging into their palms to steady their shake.

[visionheld]

“ Hey, let me help you with that. ” Kaveh is quick to take some of Collei's load, taking one of the larger serving dishes from off the kitchen counter before the girl can reach for it herself.

The dishes aren't necessarily heavy. Someone of Collei's age and size should be able to carry them without any trouble. Still, Kaveh can't help but want to take on some of the burden himself.

The architect is well aware of Tighnari's instructions to not allow her to carry anything that could break if dropped. Were the chief forest ranger in the kitchen with them and not in the dining room on the other side of the door, it's likely he wouldn't have let Collei carry any of the food out period.

However, Kaveh is not Tighnari and noticeably lacks the same level of rationale his friend has. Therefore he'll let Collei take out anything she wants out of the smaller dishes. If the food falls, Kaveh can always make more. If one of the expensive dishes breaks, well -- Kaveh's going to stay optimistic about that.

@decomposited did not ask for a starter and yet

[ex0skeletal-undead]

Back to the Roots - Shower by Alex Kuhn

[miss-americanbi]

the way i so personally need messy queer breakup crowley in season 3. let him mope around his sad apartment listening to sad music all disheveled in an ancient queen tshirt. let him dye his hair an awful color or get a piercing he’ll regret. let him get wasted with nina and maggie whilst he talks their ears off about each and every time he and aziraphale made eye contact. this is the queer representation i crave.

[claypigeonpottery]

I fucking love how this turned out. unfortunately it cracked along the rim. I’ve done my best to fix it, but it’s up to the pottery gods now

if it doesn’t survive I will be making another one

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

[purpleghoul87]

mike prepares for the job interview

since u guys seem to really enjoy the recently-scooped michael ... here's some more ... but it's a prequel to the first post >:D

[ part 1 if you missed it <3 ]

[trickstersaint]

decomposition (dysphoria) // june 2023

[egobraindeath]

🪱 and remember: legally i am alive 🪱

adds another gay little podcast to the list

[mtgrndr]

[foresight-studio]

Digest a dead god. Create a new world.

I just published Decomposer, a one-page RPG about life after death for 1-6 players! Take on the role of a larva, a fungal spore, a seed, or some other miniscule critter. Eat the remains of a beast too enormous to fathom, and digest its bits and pieces into a new plane of existence.

Decomposer is inspired by Norse & Mesopotamian creation myths, games like The Quiet Year, and by the humble creatures that form the foundation of our ecosystems.

You can get it (for free!) on itch.io.

[stillgrows]

starter for @decomposited

Sigma's heterochromatic eyes were focusing on the surface of their latte—the swirl in the foam was perfect save for some distortion on the side closest to them, where they'd already taken a sip. Ivan had started at the cafe shortly before they had joined the Armed Detective Agency. They were still a little unclear on some of the details that led up to that arrangement (something about him not being a threat on his own, something about the government not wanting to waste the resources necessary to keep him contained with that in mind), but the details didn't really matter at this point. He'd been thrilled to see them, and they found the presence of a familiar face nearby to be comforting.

No one had told him about Dostoevsky yet, and Sigma was not going to be the one to broach that subject. No one would.

The subject they were going to broach was different. "Vanya," they began, using the nickname they'd picked up from Gogol what felt like years ago, pronouncing it properly, "do you ever miss your old life?" Before Dostoevsky, they didn't add.

It was a loaded question. They knew that. But it was a loaded question for themself, too; they had no memory of their prior life to miss, and yet they still felt like they were missing something without the ability to know what. Even Dostoevsky didn't have the answers, like some part of them had furtively, foolishly thought he might. Were they different now? Or did they always have to contend with an innate lack of belonging?

Sigma only had the faintest of ideas about what Ivan was like before—hints gleaned from his interactions with Gogol, from the shared history those two hadn't parted from despite so much changing. They didn't even know how much Ivan actually remembered.

[loveofastarvingdog]

and another thing on the tma / tmagp fear categories ‼️ although the most recent episode was almost definitively what someone would categorize as a Corruption statement... it does not have the same flavour fear as the tma Corruption fear. it's too clean. it is too fresh, and gentle. it is cool and clear where the Corruption of tma is warm and muggy... whether this means same fears with different flavours / nuances, different fears, or the lack of any actual categories of fear, we have yet to see. and i for one am soooooo hyped for it

[ex0skeletal-undead]

Rot, oil painting by Eve Hyman

[deadboystims]

deadboy stimboard

ᯓ★ x x x , x x x , x x x

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

This is Where it Ends, Mats Tusenfot, 2012