visceration
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Summary
A masterpiece, really. His fingers are the brush, conjuring the nightly horizon into something unobtainable. The world is his canvas, and the people are the paint.
They smudge, they protest, they smear on the textile. They're nothing more than embroidery, they're nothing more than patterns used recreationally. They move in circles, and expect to find an exit.
They're sickening. How wonderful!
Encloaked by dread and dimness, the day is far still, the day where all confidence is drained from their body, aortic exhaustion.
The day is way too far, way, way, way too far, agonisingly too far, it's something Spoke is reminded of as bile scrapes his throat again.
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While you might be able to hide a couple of exploits from your teammate, hiding sickness is not as easy.
Bookmarked by visceration
02 Apr 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
genuinely beautifully written fanfic i love it
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Summary
Berdly uses that volunteer position like a birdwatcher uses their binoculars – for observing, not for joining. As much as it is his contribution to the community, it serves as his ticket in. The revelation chills him.
Several times Berdly stays up late at the library and one time the others notice that something is wrong.
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In the final Physical Challenge against the Lightners, Tenna grapples with his own insecurities and feelings. What good is a TV without an audience? But through the haze of his own pain, he might not be able to see the hurt he's causing until it's too late.
Or an exploration of Tenna's boss fight and his thoughts and feelings during it, and what happens if the player quits after dying in this battle (aka Tenna crashes out so hard he unintentionally contributes to the end of the world).
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“Susie,” Kris’s voice deadpans from the other end of the line, “if you don’t call me back in five minutes, I’m killing myself.”
Noelle stares.
Susie coughs. “They, uh. They don’t mean that.”
Susie makes her first friend. Somehow, they're even more insane than she is.
Series
- Part 1 of bloom to bare
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Summary
The hilt of Kris’ sword is slick with sweat. They tell themself that it’s only from exertion, and adjust their grip. This will be easy. They’ve already done it once before – the soul made them do it in that video game. They’ve done it once before, so they can do it again. This is barely any different. The others won’t understand it just yet, but this is for their own good, really.
(They know that they can’t look away this time, though. In order to hurt a monster, you need real intent to harm. Everyone knows that.)