Ann (Inky Labyrinth) > Recent Status Updates

They knew Americans; what they liked, what they didn't, the ditties they sang, the food they ate, what they looked like when they were horny, what they looked like when they were dying, the psalms that struck their hearts, the way their women set their curls, the shift of air around a man before his fist hit flesh, the hours of night when God was least visible.

🔥!!!!

The long worm has grown restless and frustrated with its shorter pair. Here they are, alive, together, and its pair can only speak of its birth. Some beings hatch unhappy and stay that way.

God, Anne is just so deeply unlikable. Seeing the people who saved her playing the fiddle she is BLOWN AWAY that poor people can make music. And when confronted she's all "but I'm just a noble woman who don't know nothing. 🥺" Very tired of this dynamic. Gain class consciousness and be gay, already.

’Inferior!’ I'm not inferior. If anything, you and your ilk, dining in your castles while the common folk suffer and starve, are inferior, because you lack the wits to see how your wealth, how your ease, is pried from the hands of the very 'inferior' people you disdain.

Girl, tell ‘er.

And that ‘amazing’ doctor told her, ‘You’ve done your best, you haven’t done one thing wrong, the fact that you’re suffering right now is proof of just how much love you’ve poured into your daughters.

STOP, this must be the exact same therapist my mother sees. 💀 I guess narcissistic parenting is exactly the same worldwide—oddly comforting!

’They have their land, and it’s gonna stay that way until they die. They can live their whole lives without worrying about anything. Land is land. It didn’t belong to anybody in the beginning, right? So how did they get it?’

Worldwide, the teenagers yearn for communism.

I dunno if I even like this but I just keep going, so…

Gelsomina is pinned between two notions: the simplicity of an existence that has been long curated for her and an intimacy with the worms and the outside world. […] The mystery of far-off lands, marked by the secretions of other animals, now stirs more curiosity in Gelsomina due to those veritable usurpers. Virgin to experience, the worms are her first scratch at life.

Deeply weird stream of consciousness~

There could be no doubt that something was very badly wrong at Briarley, but not having a family that loves you will lead you to do the strangest things.

What I could not have predicted prior to Violet's death was the extent to which adults would be willing to chalk just about anything up to youthful grief. They seemed to pity our inability to handle our uglier, more difficult emotions, or at least they were so uncomfortable around them that to say nothing was preferable.

Vibing with this so far. Perfectly creepy. 🪲

Muscle shirt notices me wipe a tear with my fist, and he does the polite thing of looking away, which I recognize as a sign of respect for my own masculinity. When he starts stacking hay and hands me a pitchfork, I know he's inviting me into a certain tradition, like when men go to the batting cages or jostle each other as a way of processing feelings.

’So, has anything strange happened in the house since you moved in?’

Enjoying this so much. Trying to take breaks in between stories to let them sink in. The connections are starting to appear!

'In my experience, you couldn't truly understand the secrets of a house without understanding the people living there first.'

It's tiiiime! 💜

'Please stop crying,' I tried to reason with [the baby]. 'Seriously, guy, we get it, you're sad.'

Long story short, when it comes to Old House and the surrounding lore, you'll get a different story depending on who you ask and how many bong hits deep they happen to be.

(Not me dabbing while reading this.💀) I am really enjoying this mysterious labyrinth of a book. My partner has been translating the Morse code bits for me and keeping up with the story. Time to see how this ends!

So this is scaring the shit out of me already lol

’Peter, have you ever cared about anyone but yourself?’ My hands were trembling as I typed. ‘Do you even care whether sick people live or die? Or are you a Nazi?’ It was the meanest thing I'd ever said to anyone in my life.

Okay but like she isn’t wrong at all?

This was how people got addicted to the platform. They kept scrolling until they got the message they wanted to hear.
They mistook code for clairvoyance.

‘Nobody with that much money or power does something purely from the goodness of their heart.’

Everything, once it is there, endeavors to keep being. In nature, nothing comes about without something stronger to destroy it. Just as death defeats life and consumes it, so too must there be life to swallow death.

Then she'd go to the bathroom and examine the cracks at the corners of her lips, like tiny mouths sprouting from her own. It was as if the fungus wanted to tell her something. Was there room for a sign on her open skin?

This is very weird and I am enjoying it.

Are minds of men, become so voyde of sense,
That they can joye to hurte a harmelesse thing?
A sillie beast, whiche cannot make defence?
A wretche? A worme that can not bite, nor sting?
If that be so, I thanke my Maker than,
For making me, a Beast and not a Man.

-George Gascoigne, 1575

This poem goes so hard!

Could a house forgive?

Did it cost so little, her blood, that her very own mother could spill it without blinking?

😮‍💨

We're actually not entirely prepared for an orgy. I can't believe we overlooked this eventuality; of course there's an orgy aboard the discount queer Black Sea cruise full of polyamorous influencers.

lmao

I wonder what ever happened to him. Well, besides getting old and dying. Assorted paramours come and go, our nest of sorrow and lust is here to stay.

This is unusual but I like the rhythm of the prose. The vampire couple remind me of Norah and Erik from True Blood, if they decided to go on a gay cruise and party and fuck each other and eat people.

’What are you thinking?’ he asks.
I'm thinking that even after everything, the afraid/horny balance is still leaning heavily toward horny. I don't say that, though. Instead
I say, ‘I think we still have a chance of finding a way out of here.’

Having so much fun with this!

Keep us alive. That's the goal of every survivor in a slasher, isn't it? And I've seen enough of them to know that the choices characters make either lead to their demise or land them a spot in the sequel. I know the formula.

Oh, someone introduce Jamie to Jade Daniels!!

I hated the sense that grief had a schedule and normalcy was some kind of mercy. Time should pause. The world should stop. Whenever someone precious is torn from the earthly plane, the ground should tremble. The sky should crack.

Nobody talk to me; I’m reading my favorite series!!!

For those who have read this: does Joseph ever become less of a fucking dumbass, or is he just like this? Contemplating if I can deal with him for another 250 pages.

But of course she could not. Ettie could no more peel paint from a canvas than skin from her body. She was no more able to unearth her mother from a painting than bring her back from the dead.