I see you, Pit Babe reference! Lol.




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I see you, Pit Babe reference! Lol.
I'm late for a good reason this time, I swear
Been working on a game jam this weekend >:)
Page 15 << current >> page 17
Can’t have one without the other
The Thing In the Walls Wants Your Small Change by Virginia M Mohlere
and
The Giant In The Cavern Brings Copper and Silver and Gold by Dira Sudis
This rec is fresh as a daisy, I discovered this delightful pair of works only this morning (thank you fandom twitter). Dira Sudis' (a favourite of mine, there will be no shortage of recs from them) work is written for the Yuletide 2018 collection, and is a response to Mohlere's original fiction, published in the Luna Station Quarterly (which promotes women writers, so let's give it lots of support).
THEY ARE BOTH SO BEAUTIFUL! I'm not going to quote, or spoil, just urge you to go and read them right now.
My diamond shoes are too tight.
Good night, followers. Good night.
Fiction²
At the close she will stand before you. She will stand before you and you will stand before her and look into her eyes, for the first time.
You will look into her eyes, staring at you blue and bottomless, and you will know what you thought you didn’t, what you thought you tried hard enough to forget. You will notice the burden on her back, your burdens, which you firmly and unflinchingly put between her shoulders while they were still forming. Her shoulders have grown to fit your burdens now. You will observe how your burdens ever so slightly push and pull her down, how her knobbly knees are bent under their weight, how she is unable to crane her neck or lift her head because of the way they deformed her backbone. You will try and lift your burdens, your cries, weaknesses, crushed dreams and fulfilled nightmares – all of this you will try and lift from her back, but you will defeatedly grow aware of your lack of muscle and your lack of will. Yet still you’ll try. But it will be too late.
You will hear her desperate whispers, intense and incessant, asking you why and why and why and telling you enough and enough and enough and you will feel like you’re drowning in the noise of her whispers. You will try and place your hand on her mouth, keep her lips shut with your fingers, grab her tongue and keep it from moving – you’d rip it out if it weren’t for your weakness. You will try until the whispers stop, but it will be too late. The words will have settled inside your ears, will have hooked themselves onto your brain cells with their tiny, little sound-wave-hands, and you’ll never know silence again.
You will notice her blue and bottomless eyes being blue and bottomless and you will then understand that it was you who made them so, that it was your actions and deeds and bad decisions that made her body a hollow shell, bent and twisted and eternally whispering, that it was you who showed her a world she did not want to see, causing her eyes to turn inwards, and to see the remains of insides eaten, of veins broken, of heart beaten and humanness crushed. They remained blue but turned empty and hollow, and you will understand that it was you who made them so. You will try and save her blue and bottomless eyes, while they’re still blue, still blue. You will invade her eye sockets with your thick, fleshy fingers, unknowingly snapping veins and tubes and nerves while you’re at it, so focused on the eyes, still blue, still blue. You will ignore her distorted face, her skin, ripping, her lashes soaked in blood, while you grab hold of her eyeballs and pull, pull till those final tubes snap and you stand there holding blue and bottomless eyeballs, still blue, still blue, barely remembering whom they used to belong to.
And you will understand that it is too late, that the eyeballs inside your hand and the words inside your ears and the burdens on your back were her eyeballs, her words and her burdens, even though it was you who made them and it was you who put them there. And you will make one last excuse before you cry and crumble, saying you were only human. But so was she.