CRAB TIME

@ghostemoji’s the silt verses sideblog also listening to: -midnight burger/welcome to the horizon -worlds beyond number: umora -scp: find us alive -the white vault 🥀

[new-hyperfixation-every-month]

hello carpenter nation

[greykingart]

The river rises

[thesiltverses]

so... post-canon, how IS faulkner written about in the silt verses (the in-universe book)? is he remembered as a hero? a liar? a traitor? or is there not enough left of the parish as we knew it to even write his chapters?

We will never know! And to me, that's exactly right. He may be forgotten, he may be misinterpreted or vilified, he may be reborn as a mineral water mascot.

[solomon-the-wise]

magic just isn't enough sometimes...

*pulls out a rifle*

[hezekiahwakely]

While his trans identity is not a major factor to his story arc in the text, Faulkner being a trans man is integral to his overaching character as someone desperate to be taken seriously and infuriated at being perpetually infantilized and humored by those around him. His desperate need for others to see him as he sees himself (not so much a man at the time we know him in the podcast, but as a prophet) parallels the trans experience of public perception and rejection. But in his desperation and reliance on the opinions of others to form and reinforce his identity, he consequently slides down the path of lies and self-delusion that trans people are often accused of when choosing to live as their true gender. In this essay I will

[pearl-in-vinegar]

only three episodes into The Silt Verses but the worldbuilding is so compelling I can't stop thinking about it. Besides the really good writing and dialogue, the specific aesthetics and atmosphere around each of the gods are so creative - like the god of the harvest is not actually the god of the harvest but the god of hunger: a hunger so intense that the rabbits consume each other with no hesitation, a hunger which emaciates bodies and compels people to begin to eat their own hands, which swallows up land and can only be satiated by an ultimate sacrifice.

In other words, I really liked episode three. Go listen to The Silt Verses.

[unbloodiedmartyr]

My part of an art trade with @matrixassistedlaserdesorption. They asked me to draw shrue miserable and hopefully I delivered

[peer2peer]

CRYING and killing myself and desecrating my own corpse

[rak0wisko]

stockholm syndrome final boss

[beanswithbones]

Ascooticator Shrue:

[a-driftamongopenstars]

the horror of being "god's favourite princess". literally one of my favourite horror themes. the god loves you and it's so scary.

it will always choose you. you cannot die. you'll always come back because it loves you so much. you are its right and left hand, its eternal weapon. it will drown you in its light. light as horror. darkness as horror. what if it thinks you are its best friend.

you are god's favourite princess and it's terrifying.

[arcane-strangeness]

its a crime more people don't know about the silt verses. Happy pride to the grizzled, Irish, middle aged, aro-ace, every gods favorite, impossible to kill, mass murderer, manipulative woman known as Carpenter

[writing-is-a-martial-art]

Me, picking at my wound: ow

Wound: what did you think would happen?

Me: I don't know. I didn't know. I wanted to find out.

Wound: well, this is what happens. You hurt and my work is done a little less.

Me: what work? Bleeding?

Wound: no, not-bleeding. You seem to misunderstand. I am not the violence. The violence is no longer in the body. My job is to be a wound - so that you won't bleed out on me - and then a scar, so that you can go on with your doing. I am not smooth skin, sure, but I am not the violence.

Me, suspicious: but you come from the violence. I remember. Perhaps if I dig in a little I will find the thing, the secret thing to pull out to heal all at once and to not even have the memory of violence, which is what you are.

Wound: what you'll find inside is just tired old flesh. There is nothing here but you. Even I is you. That's why you are the one hurt when you pick at my scabs. I am not telling you anything you do not know.

Me: but the knowing doesn't help.

Wound: yes.

Me: I am still unhappy with having a wound as opposed to not having a wound, even though I know that isn't the choice in front of me.

Wound: yes. You will just have to wait.

Me: for you to heal?

Wound: maybe, if I am a wound that heals all the way. I do not know. Perhaps you have to wait for my work to be as done as it gets and for the itch to stop. The itch, at the very least, will subside with time.

Me: okay.

Me: that sucks but, okay.

Me:

Me:

Me:

Me, picking at my wound: ow

Wound: what did you think would happen?

[sobecomesomethingelse]

"Brother Boil, you swell to burst.

Let your relief come swiftly upon this poor child.

Sister Sore, the aches you send serve as warning of harm and herald of healing.

Let your bruises turn to purple, then to yellow.

For it is in the nature of all things to heal in time, and nothing should be borne forever."

- Brother Wharfing, The Silt Verses

[tellybox]

v cartoony person torn in half under cut

[pylonsaint]

You’re an organ in the working body of this world, Mallory Glass. No amount of scornful looks and sour remarks is going to change that.

[theswisscheeserag]

Man who roleplays at being divorced and woman who roleplays at being widowed in a weird religious situationship is a peak dynamic thank you silt verse

[sobecomesomethingelse]

sometimes i think about this and i have to lie down

[sobecomesomethingelse]

and it’s so important to me that all of this happens after hayward’s introductory episode, where mr. finch, the farmer whose life he’s about to ruin via the inevitable and inevitably tragic narrative mechanisms set in motion by his mere presence… calls him out on exactly what he’s doing. and says, plainly, that his being nice about it only makes it worse.

because the machine hayward is part of as long as he’s a member of the police force is capable of taking this lonely, dreaming man’s enormous kindness and turning it into, at best, good customer service he’ll provide while he gets down to the business of ruining your life.

i also think about the fact that he runs, when he knows he’s been marked for death by the stink. he tells so many stories and lies, but when the narrative is posed to close a final curtain down on him, he doesn’t play along with the story as he’d told it to us. “they never run…” he’d said about the stink’s ritual sacrifices. so, he runs. he doesn’t obey the story’s rules. because investigating officer hayward knows too much about using stories to snare other people to not recognize when it’s happening to him.

he knows he’s rowing stanton out to something even less than an unmarked grave. he knows he can’t actually promise carpenter anything more than his own good intentions if she cooperates. and the fact that he means the kindness, the gentle strokes as he pulls the rowboat along, the mellow conversation with what he imagines might be left of stanton, the cappuccinos… until he’s no longer acting on behalf of the great and terrible machine, his kindness makes it worse. but it’s still there.