Oh hey look at that I have a short story actually out: The Invisible Hand, an urban-fantasy story following the misdeeds of a man who stumbles his way into bringing magic back to the financial markets. Up on itch now :D sjklapecki.itch.io/the-invisibl...

just saying that in like, any bargain bin dystopian fiction, this is the kind of thing that would get the heroes putting on gas masks and venturing out to destroy those generators, and the reader would be expected to see them as sympathetic without question

--implies that Leo the XIII, the guy who wrote Rerum Novarum (1891) which basically said "hey guys, God wants you to join a union and not be exploited ruthlessly", wrote that and then only like three years later was EATEN ALIVE BY HIS OWN BODYGUARD

I just realized that the Year of the Broken Trinity, in Trench Crusade, is in 1894. That's the year where among other things, the Pope got killed - and specifically, eaten by his own bodyguard to prevent his capture by Hell. The pope who got ate? Leo XIII. Actual pope in 1894? Leo XIII So this--

this is the last thing you hear before your general Quintus Aeurilius Africanus Germanicus Aedelius goes

this is the sort of shit i hear that makes the conservative catholic fibers still extant in my body twitch like im about to launch an inquisition

every so often i get the urge to dive into my worst impulses and do an entire fictional world based on anthropology and archaeology, conlangs, hyper-intense worldbuilding, all that shit i haven't done so yet but today the urge is strong for some reason

via wiktionary

this kind of fiction could completely die out and nothing of value would be lost it's hit a point where any time someone mentions 'snark' in their marketing copy I just instantly tune out

On October 31st, you'll be taking a trip to the Heartmoor House, an old gothic mansion with a tragic past. Except you won't be the Interlopers who infest its halls with parasitic malfeasance. You will be the Aspects of the House's suffering and trauma, tasked with ridding this home of its intruders.

The soul cannot bear the fall of Grief, and fixates upon it. Each breath into a gripped pillow. Each tear-streak falling into soft carpet. There must be an answer within. Lost within its own creation, Grief can only retell itself.

Nancy By Ernie Bushmiller October 10,1954

r/bonecollecting is currently beating the shit out of an OP who picked up a human femur because Claude told them it was a camel bone

Modi has lost it. "The govt has responded by massively increasing the security presence in the capital. Around thirty thousand police and paramilitary personnel have been deployed, internet services have been disrupted, trains to Delhi have been cancelled, metro stations and roads have been closed."

I get the sense he was writing the last episode and realizing these are the only two characters he can't REALLY milk anymore out of, since it's not them being kids that saved them (since Ali gets his emotional moment), though he does try by taking Leeza's ability to walk away in the last 20 seconds