#threads with: the voice

[theusashfield]

self-para; 001 ( the mines )

( the consequences of this. ) where: the mines

( tw: blood, injury, fire, burns )

it had been reckless, and stupid, but theus had never been known for his consistent smart decisions. he could be reasonable for only so long - eventually, he got bored and craved chaos, chasing it like a shark tasting blood in the water. still... he maybe should've thought of his daughters before he got himself killed.

he felt the magic tracing his skin, like the cold, sharp edge of a knife being drawn across his arms, his neck, his throat. he had only a few moments, his eyes going wide and his hand flying to his throat before the magic sliced through his skin and hot blood flowed. it spurted from his wounds in a shock of red, dyeing the wool and cotton of his clothes, and coating his fingers pressing against his neck.

shit shit shit shit shit SHIT SHIT-- relax. think. don't panic. use your head.

stop the bleeding.

with his free hand, theus resisted the panicked urge to grab at his neck and reached into his pocket, bringing out his lighter. he sank to his knees, hitting the snow hard but he barely registered the pain as he fought to keep calm. he clicked the lighter, and the second he saw the bright spark and a flame, he activated his magic. he dropped his glamour, needing his full focus, revealing his long, pointed ears and the burning orange, amber and red of his eyes.

his breath was shakey, but that was enough to make him realise the wound wasn't deep enough to kill him... yet. he got the small flame, focused it small and hot, white hot, and brought it to his neck. he gritted his teeth and groaned harshly, near screaming behind his teeth, as he held the flesh of his sliced neck together and burned the wound closed. the flame moved around the circle of his neck, cauterizing himself, as his nose burned with the stench of burning flesh and his eyes watered from the sensation. he leaned into the pain to withstand it, almost drunk on it.

when the flame made the full circle, he took a harsh, shuddering breath, the flame going out as he leaned forward with a guttural, pained groan. sweat dripped down his face, but he saw the hand that gripped the lighter was dripping blood, and he remembered the magic in his arms.

fuck.

with a heaving sigh, he clicked the lighter again, his thumb slick with blood and slipping each time. eventually, his thumbnail caught, breaking as he managed to click it. he took the flame, small and hot, and burned his coat at the shoulder sleeves, ripping them off. his shirt underneath was soaked. he repeated the motion, pulling off the blood-damp sleeves to reveal the wounds on his arms. a circle on his each, an open line from his wrist to his elbow on both inner arms, stopping only at another circle just before his elbow.

the wounds were deep enough to bleed, but he had time. he had to have time.

he took the flame, and split it into two. he had to work fast. he took a deep, shuddering breath. he wishes he had something to bite down on, he worried he'd crack his own teeth the way he ground them, clenching his jaw so hard that veins bulged up his temple. the pain was twofold this time, but he didn't falter. he burned his own flesh again, cauterizing the wounds closed to stop the bleeding. the sound that left his lips when he finished was weak, pathetic, almost a sob. he slumped forward, head resting in the dirt, as he held his arms close to his body.

he hated how he bowed to these fucking mines, and whatever entity lay deep within.

he stopped another sob from leaving him as he breathed, hard and deep. he was slick with sweat, and coming down from the high of the pain. with weak, feeble movement he sat up, then got to his feet, shaking and stumbling like a newborn fawn.

he dared to lift his eyes to stare at the mines once before, swallowing once, then turning and walking away, back down the paths to the woods. he intended to go back to where he'd left marcus, but had to stop and take a seat on a fallen tree covered with moss. the wind whispered in the trees, but he noticed that the birds didn't sing here. he looked down at his arms, resisting the temptation to touch the fresh burns. his arms shook from the effort of holding them up.

it hadn't been an attempt at his life. it had been a warning shot. if that thing had wanted to kill him, it would've cut deeper, deep enough to slice his windpipe. instead, it just wanted to taunt him.

i could kill you if i wanted to.

with a soft sigh, theus picked himself up off the fallen tree, and continued back down the path. he needed to see a healer for this shit.

[consultingfujoshi]

I'm starting to think that maybe outie irving sees his innie in a similar way that helena does, ie. a tool he can use to further his own ends. he's clearly got a plan, and he chose to become severed to advance that plan somehow. is he going to be shocked or even angry to find out his innie has spent the last 3 years worshipping the company he's been trying to infiltrate from the outside? he literally created his innie for the purpose of bringing down lumon, and you're telling him he's actually the MDR hall monitor and lumon's biggest cheerleader?? will he freak out if he finds out he's been down there falling in love and getting his heart broken and wanting to LEAVE because of it instead of trying to find the testing floor hallway? innie irv's reaction to breaking out is like the total opposite of what his outie would have wanted if you ask me based on how he immediately goes to tell whoever he's working with that his innie got the "message" (saw the paintings) and that probably means to expect forward movement in whatever their plans are, and instead of pursuing it innie irv wants to leave the severed floor forever. what would outie irv's reaction be if dylan had let him walk out into that stairwell. would he have walked right back in like helena did on her first day?

[firstfullmoon]

Anis Mojgani, “To the Sea”

[nonlethal-au]

If dying is gay then you are that one goldfish that I won from the fairgrounds

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V3: its for tthe bit plspslpsls

NOL: nO.

[ ✦ MASTERLIST ]

[purplebass]

kell probably thought this after the essen tasch

[fallen-goldfishcracker]

okay but does it ever kill you how much Wyll loves being the Blade of Frontiers? I think we tend to think of Wyll as this serious, stoic guy, but he's so ridiculously silly about his whole superhero persona. He grew up absolutely in love with storybook heros and tales of bravery and all the bard songs and legends. Look at his reaction to meeting Minsc and Boo!

He must love getting to be a figure like that for a whole new generation of kids. He loves the bard songs (even the bawdy ones!) and the title and the stories, but he just loves being someone brave and worthy and able to help. He loves being a hero!

And to add on to that, its definitely a coping mechanism for him. Perhaps a bit of a messed-up one, but hey, its working.

Which is why the body modification by Mizora seems doubly painful- it doesn't matter that Wyll got them for noble reasons, what the horns do- (and what Wyll knows they do, because he's not an idiot and he understands the common people better than probably anyone else)- is send that whole dream crashing to the ground. He's immediately marked as other. Florrick almost completely passes over him. The tiefling refugees shrink around him. The guards at the doors of his own city don't recognize him. I think Wyll could absolutely win the people's hearts back, he's Wyll Ravengard, of course he could! But in the short term, by gods that's got to hurt.

This is at least the second time in his life he's lost everything in one fell swoop. No wonder he's miserable at the tiefling party- I would be too! It's a testament to his frankly astonishing emotional fortitude that he's barely even moping.

[homkamiro]

⠀⢀⡤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⢠⡏⠀⠀⠳⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀

⢸⠃⠀⠀⠀⢿⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣼⠃⠀⠘⢧⠀⠀

⢸⡆⠀⠀⠀⠸⡆⠀⠀ ⣸⠃⠀⠀⠀⠈⢧⠀

⠈⣇⠀⠀⠀ ⣧⠀ ⠀⡏⠀⢦⠀⠀⠀⠸⡆

⠀⢹⡀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀ ⢸⠇⠀⠘⢧⡀⠀⣸⠃

⠀⠀⢳⠀⠀⠀⢸⡆ ⢸⠀⠀⠀⣼⠙⠋⠁

It's supposed to be bunny ears I'm sorry it doesn't work on tumblr very much

[tapestryundone]

quiet is right handed and always holds the blade in his right hand as a result. he is tied to the narrative that the narrator constructed through the blade and no matter what happens in any runthrough the knife will always end up in his hand at least once no matter what he does or what he truly wants

the princess is always chained by her right hand. no matter what, she is always bound to the cabin and the narrative that the narrator constructs. tsm is represented through countless arms and yet the princes is always placed in a basement with her right hand shackled

both quiet and the princess are trapped in the construct, parallel to one another. the knife is to the long quiet as the chain is to the shifting mound

in the prisoner chapter, if quiet becomes chained then he must lose the knife. there is no purpose to overlapping ones shackles, he just trades one for another

anytime that the princes recieves the knife, she becomes free of her chain. there is no purpose to overlapping ones shackles, she just trades one for another

the knife and shackles are equivalent, and both must be shed in some way for the shifting mound and the long quiet, or the princess and quiet/hero

at the heart of the shifting mound, the princess will always be free. the shifting mound is free to choose anything she wants. shes waiting for you to choose. the apotheosis establishes that she could destroy the construct if she so chose, but if the long quiet doesnt break free with her, destroying the construct will destroy him, too. she is free of her shackle but she has a choice between leaving with the long quiet or killing him- mirroring that the long quiet has a choice between leaving with the shifting mound or killing her. only that the shifting mound made her choice, and that is that no matter what happens, she will not destroy the long quiet

at the heart of the shifting mound, quiet has the choice to take the knife and give into the narrators script- to abide by it or return to its beginning and reread the story all over again- or to abandon his own shackles and free himself from the story the narrator wove

effectively, the chain and the blade must be abadoned in some way for the two to be free. with or without reaching the heart of the shifting mound, neither can be free until the remnants of the construct are abandoned, until their unique tether to the construct is left behind

and if the two are a palindrome, then the letter in the center is the cabin- a structure that exists for both of them and is a construction of the narrator that they both influence differently but in equal amounts. they both have been built around it and feom it, very literally, and the chain and blade are both offshoots of it that the narrator uses to control them

[worshipme]

who: tyler && yaz ! [ @itsyazmin ]

where: nyc

there were times when tyler’s felt like the entire world was against him and today certainly felt like one of those days. he had woken up later than he normally would on a sunday because he had trouble sleeping the night before. that caused him to miss out on breakfast just so that he could make it to mass on time (there was nothing he hated more than arriving late to mass and having everyone take a peek at who had entered in late because the door was squeaky and loud). but the most terrifying fact of all: he was going to tell yaz today.

he stands in front of his mirror and adjusts the sleeves of his button-up before smoothing the fabric out. he knows the odds weren’t looking good for him. she was going on casual dates with others and had even called their friendship cordial. whatever he was going to say today would ruin that, but he’d rather see his feelings through than letting them fade into oblivion with the ‘what if’ lurking in the air. tyler runs his hands through his hair before going between taking his glasses off, putting them back on, taking them off again… before he finally settles on keeping them on. there wasn’t time for him to fuss about getting his contacts in, and frankly, he thinks the glasses are the selling point of his ���sunday’s best” fit.

“okay socksock, remember what i said for later today.” he tells his cat who has been sitting at his feet patiently. “best behavior… i really like this girl. i don’t wanna ruin it if god blesses me today and answers my prayer.” he fixes his collar one last time, pats down the pockets of his slacks to make sure he’s got everything else he needs, and then lets out a sigh. tyler crouches down and scratches right under socksock’s chin. “wish me luck.” he whispers to her, leaving her with a peck on top of her head before he’s standing back up straight. tyler heads for the front door and makes sure to grab his leather jacket hanging up on the coat rack.. in case yaz gets cold.

then, tyler’s standing outside of yaz’s door and feels a chill even though he’s currently wearing the jacket. what if today was the last time they’d hang out like this because his feelings would ruin it? he gulps. but what if today was the start of something new? that thought is enough for him to ring the doorbell and wait patiently for her. whichever it was, that wouldn’t stop tyler from having fun today. they were going to get food, then have their furbabies meet… then he’d tell her. yeah… that’s the plan.

[nonlethal-au]

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Error you really need to get more friends... Or really, just,,, maybe A friend, y'know? ....hm, no, actually, let's actually give you a friend right now! Multiple friends even!

[ ✦ MASTERLIST ]

[and-his-hands-were-24-crows]

This is a book that I bought in 2002, when it was newly published. I misplaced it for a couple of decades and then found it in a box in my parents' house last year.

It is... incredible, to start rereading this book that was so influential for me and is somehow more than 20 years old. To read introductions from people who experienced the gender politics of the 50s and 60s and learned and grew and saw so much evolution in their lifetimes.

It feels sad, too, to read about the same LGBTQIA+ infighting that we still see. It feels melancholy to read about times when maybe there was less of that. I love seeing the hope for better things, and I worry that perhaps we have not done well enough in these last two decades.

In her introduction, Joan Nestle says, "Think of the richness of the conversation 50 years from now, if we survive the present world."

2002.

If we survive the present world.

[nestastits]

Chapter 58 of acosf is literally one of the most beautiful sex/love scenes ever written and I stand by that

[fisheito]

i lied. i'm still here

WHAT GIVE SYOU THE RIGHT

first of all, straight up 14 minutes spent staring athis stupid eyes. what are eyes? squishy orbs with holes in them? dunked in saltwater? connected to a bunch of vermicelli? ludicrous. they don't even know how to stand up straight. duymass orbs standing upside down all day relying on the brain to make sense of its wonky projections. i'm staring at salty upsidedown spheres for too many minutes. ims o anrgy

THE EARRING IS UNMOVED. UNCHANGING. STARING AT ME WITH ITS BEADY SALTORBS. mocking me. this is its everyday. this is normal. you twine that obsidian with the mundanity of the 9-5 grind and i just fume at you. STOP MOCKING ME

WHEN THE HFIOK WAS HE ALLOWED TO EXPOSE SKIN? WHO PULLED DOWN HIS SHIRTT? evil puppyfan whispering in my virtual ear: are those scratches on his back?!?! me: NO THEY AREN'T, THEY ARE JUST DECORATIVE BRUSH STROKES LIKE THE ONES USED FOR BLUSHES

IF THOSE WERE SCRATCHES THEY WOULD BE A HELLUCA LOT DEEPER AND ANGRIER BECAUSE THIS SNAKEY BITCGHJ AINT GETTING OFF WITH JUST A WARNING

wait hold up a minut

who pulled this thing down. doesn't he have a rather tight collar around his neck? there's no way someone could so easily just drag his entire torso's worth of clothing down past his shoulders-- *checks my notes*

DID THEY ONLY GIVE HIM HIS SECOND LAYER ? WHERE'S HIS SHIRT? i don't see any of that telltale white-

ok, well, there it is,? so, he's wearing it after all, but HOW DID THEY PULL DOWN THE UNDERSHIRT SO EASILY IS IT BAGGIER THAN EXPECTED? bruh i don't THINK so the waay that silk vacuum-seals to yakumo's skinnyarss chest in his regular sprite DID THEY TEAR IT APART?!?!?! just ripped at the neck. he can sew. he can fix it later on his own time. we got shoulders to expose here

WAIT. WHY IS HE WET? WHO THREW A BUCKET OF WATER ON HIM? other evil fan whispering in my alternate earhole: oh, they're ALL wet in their bday pics. don't worry, fish. it's like misting the vegetables in the grocery store-- me: I AM NOT MOLLIFIED BY THIS NEWS. WHY IS HEWET!!!!

way too godadam wet..... downright sopping😡

actually, that's a mighty fine bow. i wonder who tied that. it's a picturesque bow. i can never get my bows to look so perfect irl. very even. no lumpy sides. honestly, i wouldn't put it past eiden or olivine with their crafty hands to be able to pull that off-- EXCUSE ME WHAT THE TFOKF

WHO UNDID HIS PANTS W H A T

HE ALREADY HAS BARE SHOULDERS THAT'S AS SLUTTY AS IT GETS FOR THIS EXCESSIVELYBUBBLEWRAPPED SPAGHETT NOW YOU'RE PULLING HIS PANTS DOWN? HIS HIPS ARE GONNA GET COLD

stupid fkin hipbone on the bonyffikin snaek i'm gonna rip[ his greeater trochanter clean off his pelvis

WHATEVER. i'm fine. i'm totally fine. .......... bony snass out.....

you slap that thing and it's gonna shatter......couldn't even afford basic padding......economy-fare-level-buttmeat gotdamt taunting me with its fragile slappaibility

WHEN will this hoe learn. he beteter put those ankles away befroe he LOSES them i am THIsc lose to BITING THEM OFF his SNAPPABLE fibula PUT SOME SOCKS ON YOU WHORE

stupid anime legs. makes no sense. too frghign long couldn't even be contained by the border of the image. got cut off by the edge because his frivolous stilts had to stretch beyond reasonable restraints. surrender your left kneecap to customs. punishment for your femur hubris.

HOW FAR DOWN HAVE THOSE PANTS BEEN PULLED IVE NEVER WANTED TO SUCK A------

you're barely even tied up you dweeb there's nothing tethering you here if you stood up i bet the whole thing would unravel and you'd be completely unencumbered by that lightweight ribbon. i bet if we turned you around we would only see the ribbon loosely draping across your chest like a celebratory sash . congratulations on your self-contained imprisonment you wibbly reptilian beansprout

GOD HE DOES NOT STOP WIBBLING EVEN HIS ACCURSED LIPS ARE 〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜

UGH HE IS ALL NECK I'M GOING TO ROAST HIS SPINAL COLUMN AND TURN HIM INTO GRAVY

I HATE IT HERE

[autumnstar06]

My reaction to listening to take aim for the first time a couple months back

*vessel starts singing*

...I'm sorry Vessel what hello???? When the fuck did he turn into a magical Unicorn wtf how are you doing this

[bogkeep]

unpacking update: everything is out of boxes and there's just a little bit left to put away, but due to my inability to locate two (2) decorative figurines i have entered a catatonic state of autistic distress

[phos-saken]

He never knew he could physically get tired- but here he was, exhausted.

Owh leaned heavily against a tree, his sword hanging off of his waist, breathing fake breaths in and out. He'd been running too much. Stamina- fuck, yeah, that's what that was. Whatever seemed to be affecting everyone's stamina had extended its graces to him, too.

Finally.

Owh shook his head, recovering surprisingly quickly and starting his Pathfinding up again. He closed his eyes as he walked, making his way to Apollo's cabin-

He walked into something full force, sending him stumbling back. A tree, probably... but he'd usually just get stopped where he was, right? It's almost. As if. The tree was moving...

"Fu-"

Owh opened his eyes- only to be greeted with the tallest person he ever saw.

"...Ah."

[hi hi hello it's me @cloneontheloose haha hehe haha explodes]

Always rushing around, these break times were always unknown. Maybe it would be five minutes, maybe fifteen. Maybe the next round would skip her entirely and she'd be free to do what she wanted in the empty area. All that uncertainty meant she moves like a bat out of hell whenever there's a task in mind. Predictably, this causes her a great deal of issues. Not watching where they were going, of course they'd run into someone. Or was this the other person's fault? Actually, who cares. Stumbling slightly to not continue running him down, they don't look particularly remorseful. "Shit, sorry... Seven? Little busy. You good?" Normally they'd never check up on someone else, not here, but this could've been their fault.