IT'S TIME TO START PAYING ATTENTION.

mathematician. prophet. ghost. independent weaver márquez of kentucky route zero. written by ecto.

[doesntlie-a]

SHE WASN’T THE KIND OF PERSON YOU COULD “LIKE” OR “DISLIKE,” REALLY; SHE WAS JUST THERE, AND ALL YOU COULD DO WAS ACCEPT HER. LIKE MAGNETISM, OR GRAVITY. 

[doesntlie-a]

Feel like making a home here?

MEME.  MEME TAG.  INBOX.  ALWAYS ACCEPTING!  @bloodebt

his limbs always find a way around hers, protective, if not possessive— this is mine spoken in a locking of arms. it's hard to hold the two truths of jay's personality: the wild, violent, unhinged man who feels most comfortable with a gun in his hand and blood in his teeth, and the almost comical softness he displays with her now.  those fingers that so easily slip between the gaps of her own have killed many, and will kill many more.

what is it about ghosts that dull the edges of men like him? is it the implicit reminder of their own mortality, or the corporeal proof of things beyond their understanding, a higher power in a wisp of static?

she vibrates tonight with an energy unlike her usual white noise, something distinctly— disquiet. like someone's knocked one of the dials in her core and the frequency generator that is weaver márquez spits out nothing but destructive interference.

         "my family used to have a little farm," her drawl is a little more pronounced tonight, staring into the city lights, figure tense even under defalt's comforting grasp. "we used to, I mean. the bank owns it now. but we had it for most of my life. and I used to believe that it was the wood and the stove and the books that made it feel like home, and when I left, I could put those same things together and that place would feel like home, too. it's strange, isn't it? people trying to make a home out of things they used to own. but I don’t think..."

her head lulls against his chest. her eyes narrow behind thick, square-frame glasses, pensive.

        "I don’t think anywhere like the farm feels like home anymore. I think anywhere you are is home."

[doesntlie-a]

i can’t have you gone. i need you here.

MEME.  MEME TAG.  INBOX.  ALWAYS ACCEPTING!  @seeksvengeance

ruben victoriano is not a soft creature. he is, at his best, a vile, resentful thing locked behind a cage of courtesy, when he only scoffs and glares like the fire that haunts him until the sparker of his increasingly-shorter temper is either incinerated or far, far away from where they can cause trouble. weaver has watched this cycle repeat until the population of MOBIUS’ lab has been reduced to fit on a single hand, those discarded bodies infected with the terminal illness of incompetence.

but ruben doesn’t speak of weaver’s incompetence. to say there isn’t tension is a blanket lie; certainly she’s peculiar, maddeningly oblique, and impossible to get to focus on the best of days, but there’s no doubt of her mastery of numbers. weaver takes to mathematics like a musician takes to song, notebook after notebook full of equations like she’s invented another language between lines of derivation. a love song in a PDE. a poem in integration by parts. there’s beauty in calculation, if only you know where to look— and ruben does.

her eyes only continue their across long readouts of numbers, like scanlines of a CRT. she sits with legs crossed over the side of her chair and one elbow thrown over the back, jotting notes around oscilloscope readings— these kinds of reports always find her way to her simply because nobody else knows what to do with the numbers.

          “I’m not convinced it’s something you should worried about,” she replies with the same inattentive tone she gives jimenez when he asks her to restate her findings. “I’m not going away.”

maybe there’s merit to it; isn’t it weaver herself who insists she doesn’t lie? her desk holds the same amount of clutter it always does, worn notebooks stacked in arrays that only make sense to her, reports opened once and discarded— she doesn’t need to read them more than once— and MOBIUS-branded pens, marked with the telltale signs of fretting teeth on their ends. if she’s leaving, she’s not taking any of this with her.

like she left the bureau: a desk full of unfinished paperwork. like she left wevp-tv: a table full of unarchived tapes.

the report floats on recirculated air onto her desk, sending a couple loose papers scattering to the floor. she tucks the pen behind her ear.

         "I’m just going to be somewhere else for a while.“

[bloodebt]

"I miss you."

Weaver was not someone you missed in any semblance of ORTHODOX means. ‘ She does not remind me of anything. Everything reminds me of her. ’ It was the way in which the piles of books once littered across his room now sat, UNTOUCHED // UNSHUFFLED in a corner just collecting DUST. The ways in which sometimes a howl of wind or an off-pitch tune sounded like HER, a humming of a tune not known to even the musician’s ears; it’d inspire him sometimes ( some FUCKED UP kind of apologetic bribe ) other times, he’d just SHUT DOWN——.

                                                         ERROR CODE: FEELINGS                                                         REBOOT…?

It’s one such time that he hears it. Late enough into the night, SLEEP DEPRIVED, that he isn’t sure if it’s more likely his own mind playing ‘ fuck you ’ or the [potential] ILLUSION he’s succumbed to. A moment of STATIC. An old beat up piece of shit still running Windows 3.0 wired in a darkened corner. An odd request, but one he’d fulfilled with ease &&. practically POCKET CHANGE. It’s the first the words sound clear though; like an old radio finally tuned to the single channel that worked in Bum-Fuck-Nowheresville™. Head already laid over keyboard, elbow his balancing point, hand slung overtop faded blue locks. A TIREDNESS in his tone irreparable by sleep alone. “Then come home.”

[doesntlie-a]

itty bitty PLOTTING / STARTER CALL?

[magnoliamemes-deactivated201906]

 Send for your muse to do one of the following to mine. 

Carries, bridal style. 

Kisses cheek.  

Tickles sides.  

Growls at 

Tackles to the ground.  

Slaps.  

Cries in front of.  

Holds and refuses to let go.  

Protects.  

KICKS.  

Bites.   

Holds hand.  

Winks at.  

Steals a kiss.  

Dances with.  

stabs.  

Yells at

stares at.  

Sniffs.  

pats head. 

Pins down.  

Blocks their exit.  

Glares at.  

attacks.   

gives flowers.  

sings to.  

proposes to.  

gazes into their eyes.    

blushes at.  

asks out on a date.  

breaks up with.  

runs away from  (flustered)

chases.   

begs for forgiveness.   

rejects them.   

Sneaks up on.  

gets caught following them.  

Hides from

Scares them.  

comforts them.  

headbutts  

nose boop.  

forehead flick.   

runs away with.  

shares a treat.  

flirts with.   

BADLY,  flirts with.  

breaks down in front of them.   

Cuddles with.  

shoves away.  

pulls in closer.  

leans in to kiss but then stops themselves.    

Tries to confess their feelings but chickens out. 

reads to them

whispers into their ear

Invades personal space.  

tries to make them laugh.  

apologies to.  

trips them.  

catches them.  

eyes them up and down.  

smirks at

rolls eyes at

playfully shoves.  

[phantomemes]

if you’d like to support the author  /  feel free to change pronouns as needed

potential warnings for  :  mild allusions to homophobia 

“ i am going to hurt you ” “ you are going to hurt me ” “ i swear to god it will be worth something ” “ it’s always going to be like this  ,  isn’t it ? ” “ everything is a promise ” “ my heart looks like a bruise and i almost don’t mind ” “ loneliness aims to make a spectacle of me ” “ i forget how to say my own name ” “ i don’t know what i’m doing here without you ” “ i know this isn’t going to end well but i don’t think it matters ” “ everything is perfect .  everything is fine ” “ i slept incredibly well before i met you ” “ how much room do we have to breathe ? ” “ how do you effectively hold onto something that you don’t want other people to see ? ” “ what if i want other people to see it ? ” “ i don’t know if this is worth putting a name to ” “ you call it a sin when we kiss ” “ you only hear the word unholy in your mother’s voice ” “ what a slow way to die ” “ my soul can’t bear to be without yours ” “ that doesn’t mean it works ” “ i am the one saying goodbye ” “ i don’t remember anything before you ” “ the ocean always looked like you ” “ she does not remind me of anything  ;  everything reminds me of her ” “ i’m sorry for trying to love you before i knew what i was doing ” “ most days i pity you more than i love you ” “ i was as close as skin to you once ” “ sometimes i don’t feel like a person ” “ you are still the first person i want to share new things with ” “ i couldn’t remember the last time i’d been happy ” “ some people are born flight risks ” “ i feel like i’ve been sleepwalking for the last three months ” “ i need a crash course in my own body language ” “ i’m trying my best not to find this poetic ” “ there is an emptiness here that i swear was not here before ” “ my worth is not defined by a man and neither is yours ” “ i’m not going through a phase ” “ remember how you would like to be treated ” “ i know this isn’t what you wanted it to be ” “ you can still make something good out of it ” “ there are people i’ve slept with just because we hurt the same way ” “ you were born with an open mouth and empty hands ” “ you were never supposed to be a lesson ” “ sore muscles have always been a sign of growth ” “ my mother says she’s not surprised but she doesn’t understand ” “ people don’t have roots for a reason ”

[frostwill]

critical role sentence starters !!!

so… we’ll talk later.

why won’t you stay down and die with dignity?

no. no further.

this is not over. it can’t be.

try not to have too much fun without us.

i have this blink candle. it’s formed from various animals that blink.

it’s so rare that we’re actually given the opportunity to be honest about everything. we might as well try it once and see if we like it.

you know i’m in love with you, right?

you seem… like a person. and that’s great.

those are coins! you’re not making it rain, you’re making it hail!

i’m killing someone, hold please.

your secret is safe with my indifference.

my heart is someone else’s.

do not go far from me. if we are out of earshot, you are too far from me.

um, i don’t know if it’s the food you made or the fact that we’re going to die tomorrow, but i want to kiss you.

i was all kinds of fucked up a few weeks ago.

you’re all kinds of fucked up all the time. we all are. and that’s why we’re together.

i just want to let you know… i am possibly the worst person you’ve ever met.

i think i kind of hope… not necessarily to hurt you or harm you, but i hope that one day… that you can know just how awful i can be.

you can curse, it’s okay. you killed one of us.

i think i’ve always been in love with the idea of you.

i was only gone for thirty seconds!

i encourage violence.

i can give you the means to protect them.

i do not want to die who i am. i’d like to live long enough to be someone else.

you’re on your own, fuckface.

a volcano is - is nature’s candle!

sometimes people go and they don’t come back.

do you spice?

so we’re going to kill everyone that we see in the next ten seconds.

i don’t want to be here if you’re not.

i told you before. no one kills you but me.

he traded his life!

i don’t have very many things that i care about and i don’t have anything that cares about me.

i’m great! well, not really, but i’m just going to pretend i’m happy so everybody can be okay!

i’ve been in a barrel for an hour. i fell asleep in there!

yes. i heard. it was the only thing i heard.

don’t cry. i’m just a little cold.

i bury my shame.

i should have told you. it’s yours.

forgiveness - that’s the key, isn’t it? it’s the only way to really grow.

your hair’s a mess. sit still.

you are my heart. you are me. you are my other half. you are welcome with me always.

you don’t always have to put on a brave face, dear.

we’re friends, right? are we friends?

i know we don’t always agree and i know i can be unkind, but… you know you’re family, right?

i’ve had a terrible thought. and it is sort of my business to have terrible thoughts.

take me instead.

we walk towards glory.

that’s mine! that’s mine!

did it choose me because i was broken, or did it break me?

please bring him back to me.

you think you care about me?

this was always supposed to happen, wasn’t it?

i love you. if i can find you, i will. if not, stay alive.

if he’s gone i won’t be the same.

i’d watch your moral panic all day, it’s delightful.

in many ways you are my total opposite. but you are also my best friend.

i made a choice. this is my family.

i forgive you. but i cannot let you leave.

please. please. i love him as much as you do.

fix him. fix him!

i like this family. i’d like to keep it.

i want you to know that you are like a brother to me.

talk about my sister again.

it’s been a while since we’ve had one of our depressing chats!

i can’t have you gone. i need you here.

i think we’re very broken people. but i think together we’re much greater than the sum of our parts.

don’t ever fucking do that again.

you didn’t die. but you did! but you didn’t. but you did! and then you didn’t.

i don’t want any of this! i don’t want any of this.

i’ve just had a near death experience and i’m craving some lasagna. 

you know, you’re getting weirder.

you and i are very different.

i’ve killed two of those who’ve wronged me and nothing is better. nothing feels better. nothing is avenged.

call me “child” one more goddamn time!

if you’re lucky, you die last.

some people have no sense of fucking honor!

i’ll take my clothes off if it’ll inspire us.

thank you for believing in me.

you’ve never done anything for me! never! you’ve never risked anything, you don’t know me!

everyone else believes in you. why shouldn’t you?

how many fingers am i holding up?

what’s the first letter of the alphabet? this you know.

yay! teamwork!

you fucking died!

don’t touch me right now! i’m not - don’t touch me!

i’m going to go get a sandwich.

you had us all very worried.

your reckless impulses will get you killed!

i’m done with gods. they will not help me. perhaps you will. 

this is too fucking much.

come here, you shithead.

it has been an honor.

screw you! i want my final words with you to be indignant and irritated.

you’re the face i saw when murder entered my heart.

i’m undecided about you.

never forget you’re my favorite. and i’m so sorry.

i’m not leaving him.

you’re a better man than you believe.

feel like making a home here?

you’re an idiot and i’m very proud of you. don’t do that again.

sound off if you’re alive.

it’s not going to work.

[doesntlie-a]

“ it’s mostly kind of a haze for me now. just smells and sounds. ”

MEME.  MEME TAG.  INBOX.  ALWAYS ACCEPTING!  @incubabe

she rarely finds riley away from the thrum of civilization. the eastern sky is alight with the bustle of the city not ten minutes from the small chapel she’s been drawn to. the asphalt of city roads has dropped out to gravel a long time ago, and weaver grinds a bit of it under her boot. she visualizes the rise and fall of her foot as a function of the rock’s width over time.

     “I believe that’s for the best, sometimes,” she says. “I believe some things are better off not remembered. sometimes we just want to forget.”

her face is silhouetted by the headlights of her rusted-out sedan— half-real like the root of a negative number. they know what a is, but bi has yet to be defined.

     “what is it you’re here for? it’s been a while since we’ve spoken. is there something you need to say?”

[doesntlie-a]

gcdsaved‌.

@doesntlie

interesting interesting !! brother / father joseph seed had been speaking with this newcomer who had not yet been vetted  (  baptized absolved of sin !!  )  by the black horse himself . joseph had been enthralled , captivated almost and that of course piqued the interest of the sadist . why ? what was so special ? curiosity intermingled with a pang of jealousy irritation and amusement . an amalgamation of mismatched emotions . 

a curdled smile spread as finally there was a moment to breathe from all the excitement in recent days . the end was nearing and john seed welcomed it with open arms , cleanse this world of decay allow it to be reborn !! soon yes , soon . fingertips perch upon chest , encircling slowly before it was removed which allowed for a vaguely sweeping gesture .   ❛  i don’t believe we’ve met yet ? my name is john seed , brother to joseph . i’ve heard much about you , my dear and i wanted to see for myself what all the commotion was about .  ❜  perfectly manicured brow lifted head canted somewhat to do the side , expectant .   ❛  what brings you to our little family , hm ?  ❜  

there's nothing about weaver that is overtly strange. no cursory glance over her small form, wide glasses, and muddied boots proclaim her as extraordinary; her features are, if anything, plain. mousy. it's how these individual parts— wardrobe, gaze, posture, the chill on her skin like she's always just walked out of the earth— that makes up the not-quite-right about her.

          "you were on the tv," her gaze doesn't shift from the mountains in the distance, iron and plywood giants of YES no larger than her thumb from here. "I wanted to speak to your brother. joseph, I mean."

the air off the mountain is chilly tonight, bringing an unseasonal nip as it blows through weaver's hair. the book she folds shut between her hands is familiar: ivory cover, golden cross. (how does she read it in the dark?)

         "what is it you're doing here so late at night? did you follow me or is there something else?"

[spillybun-deactivated20190921]

Ominous positivity

[spillybun-deactivated20190921]

You will be okay. You have no choice.

[joanielemercier]

Landforms is a series of 1000 unique prints, depicting generative imaginary landscapes. available on http://joanielemercier.com/landforms/

[doesntlie-a]

MUSE PREFERENCE

open  curtains   /   closed  blinds    ;    stray  dog   /   house  cat    ;   people  /   pets   ;  outside  /   inside   ;    half-empty   /   half-full   ;     tv   /   radio    ;    sing  /   dance    ;    shoes   /   sandals    ;    cash   /   credit    ;    hike   /   drive   /   fly    ;    casual  /  elegant    ;    center   /   corner    ;    sword   /   shield   ;    airplane   /   boat    ;    fizzy   /   flat    ;    garnished   /   plain   ;    extra  salt   /   extra  pepper    ;    spicy   /   mild    ;    record  player   /   digital media    ;    opaque   /   transparent    ;    white  lies  /  complete  truth    ;    blunt  /  subtle    ;    loud  /  silent    ;    books  /  music   ;    familiar  /  new    ;    youth /  experience    ;    spoon  /  fork & knife    ;    knife   /   baseball bat    ;    space  /  ocean    ;    bow  &  arrow   /   blow dart   ;    love  at  first  sight   /   slow  burn    ;    freckles   /  dimples    ;    long  lashes   /   long  fingers    ;    soft  lips   /  sensitive  neck    ;    stubble  /   thick  hair   ;   slow dance   /   intimate  conversation

tagged by: stolen from @deputysaint​ xoxo tagging: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[doesntlie-a]

emperorat:

♛ GOD OF THE MACHINE :: His attention takes a moment to fully grab, even knowing it was Weaver, he’d been writing the code for hours and he knows she’s about to drag him away for his “health”. A low hum that could be confused for a groan, unsure himself which it really was. However, finishing off the line, hazels glimpse downward, fully expecting a usual textbook style book only to be…well, surprised. Not that that was much of a rare feat for Weaver. Saving and shutting down and maneuvering the back of his chair to one side, hands reach to find Weaver’s thighs, giving her a few moments to recognize the cue, before standing and heaving her upward against his back.

    › “Beanbag?”

his attention is as fleeting as her own, oscillating between an all-consuming obsession and hummingbird jumps from one topic to the next with little concern of how A leads to B, how B begot C. like skipping steps in a derivation: this line, trivial. this transformation, assumed. it's a disjointed flow few seem to be able to keep up with, though his and hers match, one filling the gaps the other leaves behind.

                                 she could stay like that forever, draped easily over his shoulders, watching him puzzle out this bug, that exploit. but the more direct attention is nice, too.

weaver is light ( maybe too light, if you really think about it ) so defalt can lift her with ease even without her small hop. she plants a feather-light kiss into the crook of his neck, barely perceptible but unmistakable in intent— more than an accidental brush of lips.

            "I'm very happy here," she murmurs. "but we could sit, if you want."

[30000fps]

[doesntlie-a]

@trashkick

               beth loves this diner, even if it has seen better days. that’s the argument for most of the zero, as well, though: it’s seen better days. everything fell on hard times, and the soul eating with this mysterious weaver marquez is no exception. she’s right, it’s hard running  -  not knowing the where and when you’re going to find a place for your head to rest. dipping a fry into the nearby ketchup pool that’s on the corner of the tray, she slips it into her mouth with a shrug. she doesn’t bother paying attention to the way weaver picks her golden targets. weaver always had a way about her, and trying to figure her out only made the blonde’s head hurt.           ❛ i guess it is, but you meet some interesting people along the way, ❜ she shrugs casually, a raised brow following the mathematician's statement.  ❛ i think it’d give me a headache, being in the know like that. i mean i guess it’s just like planning, but i like the wind better. the uncertainty’s a ride. ❜

her eyes drift as beth talks, much like her mind, finding it difficult to linger in one spot for long. she watches how the ketchup peaks and then slowly begins to sink back into the pool, the fight between gravity and viscosity. she turns her head to watch a pickup momentarily illuminate the dynamite-scarred walls of the Zero, kicking up a cloud of dirt behind it.

                "it's hard for some people. but I've always been like this," she says. "so it's not hard for me."

her head swivels slowly back to face her, eyes trailing a moment behind. it’s even unsettling as far as weaver is concerned, an unnaturally precise movement that wouldn’t look out of place on the exorcist— except weaver stops before it can spin all the way around. 

               "I think it's like a puzzle,” she crunches her nose slightly. “I know what the solution will be, but I don't know how to get there. deriving it is the enjoyable part. do you like puzzles? where do you think you'll go next?”

[doesntlie-a]

SHE WASN'T THE KIND OF PERSON YOU COULD "LIKE" OR "DISLIKE," REALLY; SHE WAS JUST THERE, AND ALL YOU COULD DO WAS ACCEPT HER. LIKE MAGNETISM, OR GRAVITY.