( attachment, an mp3 titled what_do_u_think : a recording starts with a silence, then the strum of the guitar. it's Eddie singing, pieces of a song from her mixtape. )
[ it’s been weeks since something has made her pause, made her go cold all over and knock the wind out of her. the memory is being buried slowly, piece by piece. it’s been pushed into the dark, where Jem’s tried desperately to make it go away. out of sight, out of mind; if she doesn’t think about it, it never happened. if she doesn’t think about it, no one will ever make her feel that way again.
he can’t. Orest is out of reach, a pathetic blip on the multiversal map. he’s nowhere, he’s nothing. she still has to fight back the instinct to send, in a panic: please don’t bring this up. she sucks in a breath instead and reminds herself that she’s fine. she’s safe. no one is going to ever make feel like that again.
minutes pass; long enough that she could just ignore it. move on. keep going. keep burying. it wouldn’t make her any less raw about it, or any less angry. ]
[ Look, the reception in here has been messing with Matt's thirst traps (or something) but he sent out some normal messages and those delivered fine. So whatever weird is going on, it's probably over.
Therefore, an image: A shirtless young man--slender and pale, with messy dark hair--standing in a hospital room. There's a tattoo of a green lotus over his heart, and another on his right hip depicting a half-monkey, half-man figure. There is also a bandage over his left side, a square of white gauze affixed with tape. The angle of the camera is far back enough to show both his hands, as well as the shirt he's discarded on the narrow hospital bed.
And there's one more thing.
Just in the corner of the frame, but unmistakably present, is Gregory House. He's making bunny ears behind Matt's head. ]
[ Matt didn't stick around to chat the last time he saw Jem. Neither of them was in great shape. But the visceral effect Alicent's (Lady Daenerys'?) vision had on her has stuck with him. ]
Hey
I know we barely know each other, but I wanted to see how you were doing
[Oh, is the first thought that flits through her head, entirely surprised and slightly unsure. She hadn't really expected anyone to check in at all, outwith her own circle. When you kill someone - and when you love someone who also loves to kill people - it tends to leave you, well. On the outskirts. Ignored; put aside.
Matt was nice to her, a while ago. He was nice even when it was obvious that she was guilty, no matter how real and visceral her panic attack had been. Cautiously, she decides not to be a brat in turn: ]
Hey. I never really got to know your brother, but if you guys need anything, or if you miss hanging with some asshole old guy, let me know. Need something to replace my evening badminton with House.
[ Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house... one particular vampire was spening his "day" (night) trying to beat Saltburn's tendency to make it difficult to get where you wanna go, so as to drop off gifts.
Daniel isn't looking to get waylaid in the awkward thanks of a direct handover, especially since he's pretty sure most of these people won't have gotten him anything in return. (Son't feel bad. He's also the kind of boomer to mail out Christmas cards to his nephew and dentist and old friend from college.)
So while he'll slip into the rooms of people he can hear are asleep (or can't hear at all), fellow night owls will get the servant who opens their curtains and announces breakfast also bringing in the gift left on the doorstep.
The gift is neatly wrapped and tagged with a generic Merry Christmas label that says From: DM. It contains a package of gingerbread (purchased, not baked) and knockoff discman with "The Velvet Underground and Nico" (1967) and "OK Computer" (1997) on CD. ]
[ The image attached is a selfie, of sorts. Matt is lying in what seems to be a pile of laundry, though on closer inspection, there's something wrong here. What looked at first glance like an exploded feather pillow directly under Matt's back is actually a pair of wings. Another, smaller pair has sprouted from his temples, and more wing structures ripple down his forearms.
Matt himself doesn't look distressed, exactly, though the line of his mouth is drawn down in the platonic ideal of a frowny face. His eyes look weird in this photo, kind of like when you catch a raccoon out at night. White-glowing, the pupil and iris impossible to detect. ]
This Is The Curse Of Bloody Mary! You Must Forward This Message To Ten People, Or She Will Come And Find You And Kill You! She Knows Where You Live. She Will Hang Your Corpse For Everyone To See And Laugh At You. She Will Find You!
text
( they don't do hospital corners, what the fuck! it's neurotic 4am hour with danny johnson, out on an early morning run. )
you and john probably don't know any better but i know and i'm gonna go fuckin batshit
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god i would love to examine ur brain under a microscope or a scan or smth
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what do you last remember before waking up here?
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[because it was crying about orest. because she felt pathetic and so small. ]
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that would be correct 😌😌 who’s this????
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text — un; freak
so i see i misunderstood what kind of daddy you were talking about when you said your daddy was a god
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house isn’t the god tho
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text — un; freak
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early/mid august
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he can’t. Orest is out of reach, a pathetic blip on the multiversal map. he’s nowhere, he’s nothing. she still has to fight back the instinct to send, in a panic: please don’t bring this up. she sucks in a breath instead and reminds herself that she’s fine. she’s safe. no one is going to ever make feel like that again.
minutes pass; long enough that she could just ignore it. move on. keep going. keep burying. it wouldn’t make her any less raw about it, or any less angry. ]
i know
but i wanted it to be me
[maybe now it’ll just be Billy. ]
i deserved to have it be me
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cw: rape aftermath thoughts
text; un: persephone
Therefore, an image: A shirtless young man--slender and pale, with messy dark hair--standing in a hospital room. There's a tattoo of a green lotus over his heart, and another on his right hip depicting a half-monkey, half-man figure. There is also a bandage over his left side, a square of white gauze affixed with tape. The angle of the camera is far back enough to show both his hands, as well as the shirt he's discarded on the narrow hospital bed.
And there's one more thing.
Just in the corner of the frame, but unmistakably present, is Gregory House. He's making bunny ears behind Matt's head. ]
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if so, i have some STARTLING news
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god can't believe i instantly dropped the ball on this SORRY feel free to disregard
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— text | un; freak
also do u want anything in your care package?
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what about zombies
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text; after the graveyard smash
Hey
I know we barely know each other, but I wanted to see how you were doing
text;
Matt was nice to her, a while ago. He was nice even when it was obvious that she was guilty, no matter how real and visceral her panic attack had been. Cautiously, she decides not to be a brat in turn: ]
oh, you know! i'll live!
you doing ok?
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storytime!!!!!
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@SET
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text; un: gingerailed
insert tyra banks screaming gif here!!
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i’m sorry i love u i tried really hard to keep u alive ❤️❤️❤️❤️😭😭😭
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@stark
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@lexi
Are you okay?
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it's sweet of you to check in ♥ i'm
fine :)
are u ok? all your limbs still working after your snooze?
un: dm
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delivery - fwd-dated to 24th.
Daniel isn't looking to get waylaid in the awkward thanks of a direct handover, especially since he's pretty sure most of these people won't have gotten him anything in return. (Son't feel bad. He's also the kind of boomer to mail out Christmas cards to his nephew and dentist and old friend from college.)
So while he'll slip into the rooms of people he can hear are asleep (or can't hear at all), fellow night owls will get the servant who opens their curtains and announces breakfast also bringing in the gift left on the doorstep.
The gift is neatly wrapped and tagged with a generic Merry Christmas label that says From: DM. It contains a package of gingerbread (purchased, not baked) and knockoff discman with "The Velvet Underground and Nico" (1967) and "OK Computer" (1997) on CD. ]
text; sometime around 12/21 (cw: body horror)
[ The image attached is a selfie, of sorts. Matt is lying in what seems to be a pile of laundry, though on closer inspection, there's something wrong here. What looked at first glance like an exploded feather pillow directly under Matt's back is actually a pair of wings. Another, smaller pair has sprouted from his temples, and more wing structures ripple down his forearms.
Matt himself doesn't look distressed, exactly, though the line of his mouth is drawn down in the platonic ideal of a frowny face. His eyes look weird in this photo, kind of like when you catch a raccoon out at night. White-glowing, the pupil and iris impossible to detect. ]
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smash
smash smash smash
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me again bc i have a problem
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un: silco
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[ hmmm ]
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text — un: mop
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cw: cannibalism
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text — un: jones
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text
ATTENTION!
This Is The Curse Of Bloody Mary! You Must Forward This Message To Ten People, Or She Will Come And Find You And Kill You! She Knows Where You Live. She Will Hang Your Corpse For Everyone To See And Laugh At You. She Will Find You!
THIS IS NOT A JOKE!!!!!!!!!!!
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— text | un: munchies
( no context needed or added. )
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text — un: goatface
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summer = better weather and fruit but fall means we can dance in the rain :((((
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