#hostile meme

[thesedeepwaters]

✍️ (the note being "this message will self destruct") - Lore

Send a thing! | @never-trust-anyone-over-30-000 is a devious lil shit | accepting

“What even is the point?” Arshia muttered under her breath, quickly covering the note with a glass. She gestured confusedly at Lore. “The fuck, dude?”

[ob-noctius]

2, 5, 8, 13?

2: what sort of things does your muse look for in a partner?Meadow looks for a supportive partner who nevertheless acts as a voice of reason and sounding board. Someone who can rein in her more absurd tendencies on the one hand, but who can also push her to do more on the other. To say she has a physical preference would be unusual, given her one vaguely canonical relationship is with an AI.

5: how easily does your muse fall in love?Depends on your definition of falling in love. If mere attraction is the bar, Meadow falls in love with almost everyone she encounters. If the bar is for head-over-heels, would-die-for-them love, then Meadow’s kind of a slow burner. She likes to take her time with romantic partners.

8: does your muse usually take the lead in relationships?Yes. Meadow is an action-first kinda girl, and she takes that into pretty much every aspect of life.

13: how easily would your muse get over a bad breakup?Either incredibly easily or never in a million years with no in-between.

[skyhelmwriter]

POV and/or before the beginning right back atcha!

Send a thing! | @linstella wants to see some writing!

POV: A sequence you’ve already written, but from someone else’s perspective (or smth like that I’m not copy-pasting rn)

The sliding doors hissed open, and I put on my best loving-mother face, rushing over to that poor, broken girl whose care I’d been entrusted with. “Oh, Spider, darling!” I placed my hands upon her cheeks and turned her head side to side, inspecting for dirt, grime...blood. “Are you alright? How’s your arm?” She must’ve gotten my message, else she would have kept testing the length of her leash, which I’ll admit had gotten a little long since the Commander had...fallen out of touch.

But she brushed me off! “It’s healing pretty well, actually,” she said. Actually, as if to remind me that I had a hand in its state in the first place. And, true enough. Darling Spider hadn’t always taken kindly to my more indirect methods of discipline, so I’d taken things a step further. Arguably a step too far, but that’s really neither here nor there. “Now would you mind telling me what’s got you so worked up?”

I was made to do a double-take. She was not this good of a liar and unless she’d spent the last week taking acting lessons, something was clearly amiss. The bars of command I’d received anonymously had seemed a clear message from her. Nonetheless, I had to get the truth out of her, even as she sat on the counter: ON THE COUNTER and grabbed one of my...ahem, our fruits to eat.

But I couldn’t let her know she surprised me, so I gave her a stern glare. “You should know,” I scolded her. “You’re the one who---who--” I couldn’t say it directly, not until I knew more. Or she goaded me further, something this wayward child--and yes, I contend that a twenty-seven-year-old can still be a child--was quite good at.

But she was unfazed. “Who what?”

I made something up. In hindsight, something really dumb. “I found this in your room!” I slapped down the bars of command, Lorelai’s bars of command. And this girl had the audacity to shrug it off as though it were nothing!

“Never seen it before. Well, except for you sent me an email with a photo of it attached.” She returned my hard glare. “Besides, you’re not allowed in my room. Private space.”

“I was worried.”

“And I was in constant contact. I went out of my way to provide you with status updates. You had absolutely no reason to be worried, oh, and mind you I have at least one person who can corroborate each message I sent.” And impressive alibi, but not one that couldn’t be fabricated, especially by a gifted computer scientist such as herself. I had spent the better part of two years underestimating her, and it was about time I changed that.

She took another bite of my--our--fruit. “Mm! This is really good, Chen! You get this from the market?” As if she didn’t know. Every action she took was an affront to my very reason for being here! She never learned, and it made my blood boil. All I needed was a success. One successful venture and I was next in line. But nooooo, this little shit had to go and kill the Commander before a clear line of succession could be drawn up. And now what? Rama? She coudn’t keep unit cohesion among lemmings, and they wanted her for IC? What a crock of...

“How can you be eating at a time like this?” An earnest question. After all, most murderers were pretty shaky when confronted with evidence of their wrongdoing. “Aren’t you the least bit worried?”

“Keep talking like that and I might be. What’s gotcha so rattled?”

“The Commander is dead!”

And she laughed. The girl had the audacity to laugh at the prospect of the Commander’s death. What more evidence do you need? Clearly, she was guilty!

[this was only like half the scene but stars above this is getting long so we’ll cut it at the dramatically appropriate time before the self-deprecating reference to my first draft]

Before the Beginning: pretty self-explanatory, just write a thing that happens before the story, like a prologue of sorts

How did we get a town going so quickly? Well, for about a month, we huddled in what makeshift shelter we could manage, almost all our survival training having gone out the window. Not our fault, really. When so much goes wrong so quickly, you start to run on instinct because if you think too much about what’s happened, you’ll realize how horribly the odds are stacked against you. And then it’s just a downward spiral from there.

Luckily, our instinct was to band together, to defend ourselves from the lizards that came to scavenge what was left of the ship. Our instinct was to search the scrap piles for survivors, and to head to firmer ground, at the base of the mountain. We did this in large groups, humans moving as a herd, the sheer volume of flesh a deterrent for would-be predators. And there were many. We built roofs to protect from the four-winged creatures we called harpies. We built walls to protect against lizards and other ground-dwellers. We fortified those walls when the megafauna arrived.

Mostly gentle giants, save the occasional giant superpredator utterly uninterested in a target that didn’t shit itself in terror at the mere sight of something so massive barreling towards it, something the size of a large house is still rather a danger, if only unintentionally. We built power lines and extended our wireless network so we could facilitate communications across the mountain’s base.

The town was constructed not out of a desire to live together, but out of necessity. A hostile world corralled us, and we took note. Commander Kensington--though I’m loath to say it--took charge, if ultimately for her own personal gain. She had the logistical know-how to coordinate thousands of disparate voices into a single, harmonious song for just long enough to ensure our survival.

She wasn’t the only one. Jefferson, Rama, and Haroka all did their part, though that last met an unfortunate end along with a whole squad of scouts investigating what would come to be called the Zone. On the whole, the town of Skyhelm, which shares a name with the ship whose wreck it was built from, was constructed in less than six months. A million people had places to live, a sense of community, and--most importantly--security.

[thesedeepwaters]

ϟ

Send a thing! | @thecrimsonmonster wants to hear about Arshia’s scars! | accepting

It doesn’t look like much, the old wound. Just another place where the skin is no longer smooth. The small, dot-like structure could easily go unnoticed. “This’n?” she asked. “Ye’d be surprised th’ things they go outta their way t’protect in Xing. Learnt t’check fer traps after a situation involvin’ a giant bricka jade an’ some javelins. One of ‘em nearly got me.” She shook her head and smiled. “Also learnt a thingertwo ‘bout self-surgery that day. Not t’mention howta make a self-firing dart launcher. Very handy whenya needta sleep an’ there’s some nasties out there lookin’ forya.”

[thesedeepwaters]

“Do you need help opening that?” - Lore

Send a thing! | @never-trust-anyone-over-30-000 is...just reaching out as far as I can tell | accepting?

Arshia looked down at the runelocked seal in front of her. She didn’t turn to face Lore, instead opting to continue the conversation as she looked it over. “How long have you been watching me go at this?” She’d been puzzling over this thing for something like eight straight hours, with only breaks to eat, drink, or just look at something else to interrupt.

She hadn’t actually made any attempts to open it, since she was reasonably certain there was a trap of some variety if she didn’t magically guess the correct combination. Say what you will about long-dead alien civilizations: they knew when something was worth protecting.

“I’ve got at least three relevant doctorates,” Arshia continued, “but these were some clever bastards, and it doesn’t help that even the best translation I can think of is...ambiguous.”

[thesedeepwaters]

♢

Send a thing! | @ofarkhxm is telling me how they feel! | accepting

♢ - You’re one of my favorite blogs. AWWWWWWW thanks friend! You’re one of mine, too!

[radio-free-montserrat-blog]

30. Which one of your OCs would most likely have a secret stuffed animal collection?

Send a thing! | @conundrums-and-cupcakes is interested in me OC’s! | accepting

Most likely to have a secret stuffed animal collection? Arshia  wouldn’t be able to keep that secret. Mal is...let’s just say uninterested in such things. Nans might? He has a number of just weird habits and has a knack for finding hidey holes, so him I guess? Certainly not Z (ATLA/LoK) or Spider (my own universe). They’re both too focused on survival for that. Marina or Kara (DnD) might though...

[thesedeepwaters]

X

Send a thing! | @ofarkhxm wants to find Arshia fucked UP | accepting

How long she’d been lying on the ground, Arshia didn’t know. How much blood she lost, she didn’t care to figure out. They’d figured out how to kill her (surprise! the answer was murder!) and fuck if she wasn’t alright with passing on after how many years?

How many had it been? She had vague memories stretching back seemingly into perpetuity, but then, the start of your life always felt like an eternity ago, didn’t it?

Her eyes were swollen shut--an impressive feat to inflict on a Deep One. Sharp teeth lay scattered on the ground, floating like compass needles in her blood, and all seeming to point towards Arshia, as if accusing her of some heinous deed.

She’d lost track of how many bones they’d broken when it started hurting to breathe. Honestly, she was just glad there was a wall for her to lean against. The sound of footsteps pulled what aspects of her were there to attention. They’d torn off her jacket, her underjacket, her shirt, her undershirt...she was lucky they thought she was an abomination, or they’d have gone elsewhere, too.

“If yer here f’r the fight,” she managed, her voice barely approaching a whisper, “y’ju--y’just missed it.” As if the effort of saying that had been the final straw, her head lolled to one side. Her now-exposed and blood-spotted chest lifted and fell, though how long that would keep up was a fair question...