#borgatabent

[paradoxidolatry]

Yeah, uh.  Pass.

[[ Full res here! ]]

[talldarkloathsome-blog]

Local Goth Family Emerges From Cave to Attend Festival, All Die of Heatstroke, More News at 11

@criminallyfashionable @deadramchild @birdhole

[rootyful]

ᴡᴇᴅᴅɪɴɢ ʀɪɴɢꜱ

[waywardvisionary]

[theuniverseisher]

>Ohh, FUCK YES! This is WONDERFUL!

[neongnostalgic-blog]

Like Shooting Stars

"okay so here's the dealio, jakeface.  i've done like all the crunching of all of the numbers and tested like a bajillion scenarios, and all of them point to this like, rift in time and space riiiiighht way the hell over there.   idk what happened, but SOMETHIN has happened to the fabric of paradox space and that's the key.  me and arq have been doublecheckin' and we're getting pings in there that are definitely distri shaped, so  i've got my window here all focused in on it.  if our calculations are correct--and like, they should be ell oh ell--we should be able to use this to hop straight through into this other universe and, if we're careful and fast and lucky, we can snatch his pretty aass up and get back through before this tear thing clears itself up!!" 

Dirk has been missing for... well, you know the numbers, but forever feels right in your heart, hyperbolic as it is, and forever is just way too long, as far as you’re concerned.  As far as you’re all concerned.  You know you’ve got to act, and fast, even if fast entails a few weeks of prep work, calibrations, fiddling with your transportalizers and windows, scanning the cosmos for something, anything...

And then there it is.  An anomaly, something extraordinary and terrifying and unprecedented out there in space--a rift, a big one, like a wormhole but different, and through that rift, your radars detect traces of something distinctly Distri.

It’s time.

Hal is there with you when you finally pull Jake through, and the excitement of seeing your friend in the flesh for the first time is only hampered a little by the dire circumstances under which you all are meeting.  You explain to him the plan once more, and Hal as well, and then it’s go time.

You take that leap of faith.

But something is wrong immediately, and you know it, and motherfucker, you all should have brought more rope, because you can feel neither of their hands in yours as you go careening through the black folds of space and time itself.

It’s terrifying and exhilarating and everything you had hoped it would be, free-falling through the void and the fabric of all of the things between one universe and another, whipping past you faster than you can even comprehend them.  You see faces and eyes and black black black black and it’s so much, you can’t look, but you do.  You do look.  You can’t stop staring.  There’s so much you want to know, want to see, and you can’t stop staring, trying to memorize it all and check it against everything you knew--thought you knew--about spacetime and everything in between.  It’s so fast and so slow and you’ve been falling for months and years and no time at all, when suddenly-

Suddenly, you’re in an ocean of stars.  You could scarcely breathe before but now you’re truly breathless, in awe and also sans actual oxygen, and you think maybe you should panic? But you don’t.

You don’t, because you see a light there, and the distant echoing blip of the radar in your watch finally pulls through the soundless void to tell you it’s reconnected, and it’s here.  The Distri shape is just beyond this light.

You should be afraid, but you, even for all the adrenaline coursing through you, don’t know the first meaning of the word, and so you push through--

--and find yourself falling, tumbling head over foot, through the night sky.  And maybe now you know the first meaning of the word fear because holy shit the ground is coming at you fast and you are so far up!!!  You remember, after a brief bout of screaming, that you had anticipated something like this happening, you’re wearing a parachute, of course you can just--

You writhe and twist until you’re in the correct falling position, and then pull the cord.  The parachute deploys and you’re jerked upright briefly, but hoo, god, okay.  Okay, this is still terrifying, but you know you deployed it in time.  You might still have a bit of a rough-and-tumblr landing, but it ain’t so bad! See, Rolal, you foxy babe, you got this.

As you drift down from the clouds, you get a good look at the sight before you--a vast city that stretches on in every direction, as far as you can see and then some.  It’s huge.  No, huge doesn’t even begin to describe it, but more than that?  It’s beautiful.  Towering skyscrapers, radio towers, and glittering lights, keeping the deeply dark sky lit with a dazzling warm glow.  You breathe a soft Wooow to yourself, and you allow yourself to take in the sights.

And don’t notice the stupid fucking bird that suddenly goes careening into your goddamned parachute.

There’s a brief scuffle.  You’re screaming, the bird’s screaming, you’re both swatting at each other, before it tears through the cloth of the chute, and, shit you’re falling again! Frantically, you try to deploy the secondary safety chute, but the cord’s stuck, and now you’re trying to steer yourself towards the water at least but oh shit you’re going too fast, you’re never going to make it in time--

“shit shit shIT SHIT SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII--”

You collide with, and then bust through, the roof of the building you were trying to swerve to avoid, before your fall is broken quite gracefully by a sturdy table.  You slump back against it and you pass out, just as the shape of someone moves over you.

Your name is ROXY LALONDE, and you have just crash-landed through the roof of the hive belonging to one MALLEK ADALOV, located in a sparsely inhabited corner of a neutral territory in MIDNIGHT CITY, on the planet DERSE.  The date is the 1ST of JANUARY, 2019--or, as it is called locally, 1929.

You will spend the next week or so in the HOSPITAL, having been incredibly lucky not to FUCKING DIE or something equally as embarrassing as that.  You’ve got a few SPRAINS AND FRACTURES, but honestly, it’s fine, because the ULTRA HOTTIE whose hive you broke has been visiting you and he’s actually PRETTY FUCKIN’ COOL if you do say so yourself.

When you are released, he even lets you CRASH ON HIS COUCH! How sweet is that?  It’s a shame the COMPUTER and OTHER EQUIPMENT you were carrying on your person were busted in the landing, but it just so happens your newfound friend has the same love of TECH that you do and you have been helping yourself to his equipment to FIX YOUR SHIT.

And so it is, on the 16th of JANUARY, 1929, that you fix your computer and show him the wonders of THE BLUE HELLSITE, after jacking into his WIFI CONNECTION.  God the wifi sucks on this planet, but it’s fine! You can work with it, really!

Because now it’s time to find your motherfucking best friends in the world and figure out how to get the fuck out of here!

[draconianlaw-blog1]

whoops my karezi is showing

[jpegthemovie-blog]

Dave => Be Dave

You run a hand through your hair as the television drones on about your latest premier, stretched out on your couch. They love it. Of course they love it. It isn’t hard to make a blockbuster hit on this backwards planet (moon?) where it’s literally the law to keep everyone in the dark ages. You suppose the 1920s weren’t the dark ages but they certainly weren’t the 90s or the early 2000s.

Not that you know much about those, either. You pluck a paper from the coffee table. It’s getting worn down with how often you look at it. A note written in your handwriting. You’ve studied it enough to know you wrote it in a hurry. And maybe you were afraid. Whatever the case, all you managed to tell yourself was “hidden propaganda. take down the ones in charge. find dirk.”

You vaguely remember Earth. You remember growing up there. And weird shit started to happen like… Aliens. And robots. And everyone seemed fine with it, except for you. Suddenly, you’re here on Derse. Aliens and robots are fucking everywhere. Well, the aliens are. Jury’s still out on the robots. And there’s no one in particular who’s “in charge.” There are the gangs. There’s the Prospitian monarchy. Where’s the propaganda? Who were you supposed to take down?

And who is Dirk…?

You set down the paper and rest your wrist over the bridge of your nose, covering your face with the back of your hand. You don’t know. All you know is how to make a good movie and remain anonymous doing it. Listening in, you notice the broadcasters and critics yammering on about your premier are more intrigued by the mystery of the writer/director than they are by the plot of the film. Which is unfortunate. As funny as it is that they’ve finally caught on, you’ve been weaving subtle hints in your films to try and wake people up to the truth. That they’re being overrun by something corrupt. Whether it’s the gangs or the monarchy. One isn’t necessarily better than the other in your book. But they’re not paying attention, is the problem.

At first, you were sending actors as your stand-ins for these premiers. Dressing them up like shit. Leaving them with index cards full of stock replies for interview questions. One time you paid a kid, couldn’t have been older than 12, to go in your sted. Hilarious but way too obvious. It took them a long time to realize the wool was being pulled over their eyes but… Well. They’re onto you now.

And maybe if you defeat one mystery, they’ll finally start paying attention to the bigger issues. So yeah, you think, sitting up from your couch, maybe it’s time to come out to the public. Maybe it’s time to own up to all of your genius bullshit and bullshit genius.

Shit. Let’s be Dave Strider