The Inbetween Archives

In Nihil Veritas

    Author: Shade

    • Liquid Silk & the Morality Olympics

      ,

      Author’s Note: These messages were sent immediately after the events on Perdition (Hard Parole Chapters 12 – 18)

      SECURE COMM | UNTIMESTAMPED | ENCRYPTION: LUX-VIOLENTIA

      TO: Geist
      FROM: Shade
      SUBJECT: Liquid Silk & the Morality Olympics

      Dearest Murder-Master,

      Before you polish that moral high ground any shinier, I’d like to clarify a few factual items re: the recent pharmacological scandal:

      1. No, I didn’t choose to dose Wraith with Liquid Silk. It’s not like we keep a MedBay stocked with your tidy little hypo options and SID-standard trauma protocols. We’re in the back end of Perdition with a bunch of half-feral acolytes, two operating needles, and just enough duct tape to make a decent confession booth.
      2. Yes, I knew it would lower her defenses. You know what else lowered her defenses? Seven cracked ribs and a two-day adrenaline crash. So maybe give me a medal for not just smothering her in Void oil and calling it a sacrament.
      3. Also yes, I stayed. I didn’t leave her alone. I didn’t fuck her. I didn’t even make a cult joke. I held the line.
      4. Until she kicked me off the cot. Twice. That’s growth.

      Now, if you’re worried about Kael’s delicate sensibilities, rest assured he passed his first real test. He didn’t break her, didn’t fuck her, didn’t flinch. And in doing so, he made himself indispensable.

      Congratulations! You’ve got your emotionally tethered asset pair. Should last until one of them breaks the universe. Or each other.

      But if this is your passive-aggressive way of saying you’d have handled it better?
      Cool.

      Next time you can drag your ghostly ass out of the shadows and be the one getting blood on your hands.

      With love and illicit biochem,

      —Shade
      Prophet. Patient zero. Emotional war crime.

      P.S. You’re not mad about the Silk. You’re mad she let someone else see her. Don’t lie to me. I know your tells.

      REDACTED COMM | PRIORITY: SHADOW-LIT | ORIGIN: UNKNOWN NODE

      TO: Shade
      FROM: Geist
      SUBJECT: Re: Liquid Silk & the Morality Olympics

      Shade,

      You always mistake my silence for permission.You always mistake my anger for guilt.

      Let’s be clear.

      You dosed her with Liquid Silk, Shade.

      Not Silk-72B. Not trauma protocol. Not anything remotely medical. Liquid Silk is an aphrodisiac wrapped in a mercy drug, engineered to break control.

      And I know you know that. Because I taught you the formula.

      You say you held the line.
      Good.
      You don’t get a reward for that. You get a baseline level of decency.

      As for Kael…

      Yes, he passed the test. And no, I’m not surprised. He has restraint buried so deep it might as well be fused to his bones.

      But don’t pretend that was your intent. You were angry. Jealous. Curious.
      You pushed, because you wanted to see what would crack.
      And now you’ve bound them tighter than any mission file.

      That’s not strategy. That’s sabotage disguised as insight.

      The difference between us, Shade, is that I’ve never confused loyalty with possession.

      You want absolution for what you did?
      Tell her the truth.
      Or don’t.

      We both know it won’t change what happens next.

      —Geist
      Director Emeritus, Ghost Command
      Unforgiven. Unrepentant. Watching.

    • How To Spot A Liar (and when to let them lie)

      ,

      Presenter: Karina “Spook” Chekova

      Training Audience: Junior field operatives, unfortunate interns, and that one guy from Fleet HR who thinks trust falls count as security clearance.

    • Out of Office

      Greetings,

      Thank you for your message.

      I am currently out of office, off-grid, and out of patience. I will be unavailable from [REDACTED] until such time as linear time resumes functioning or the Void releases its hold on my calendar—whichever comes first.

      During this period, I will have limited access to comms, reason, or restraint.

      If your matter is urgent:

      • Whisper it to a mirror at midnight.
      • Phase into a sealed room with three locks and one regret.
      • Or contact Ghost Command Operations at ghost.ops@[redacted].inb

      If this is regarding:

      • Recruitment: Please complete the bloodwork and prophecy alignment form before resubmitting.
      • Complaints: These are now handled exclusively by the Void. Expect silence.
      • Wraith or Kael: I’m not a therapist. But I am taking notes.
      • Geist: You already know where to find me. And probably disapprove.
      • Whiskey Incident(s): It was labeled experimental batch. You were warned.

      Thank you for your patience. Or your fear. Either is valid.

      In light, shadow, and bad decisions,
      ~ Shade
      Founder, Cult Leader, Unofficial Emotional Support Nightmare
      Void Division, Ghost Command, SID (Disavowed)

    • Sermon Sunday

      My beautiful broken believers,

      I see you.

      Not the masks you stitched together from duty, guilt, or glitter.
      Not the performance you offer up to the day-shift gods.
      I see you. Fractured. Flickering. Frightened.

      Good.

      Because that means you’re waking up.

      They told you healing meant becoming whole again.
      They lied.
      Wholeness is a box they bury you in.

      The Void has no interest in perfection.
      It wants your edges. Your static.
      Your half-truths whispered into someone else’s mouth at 2am.

      You are not failing.
      You are unraveling.
      And unraveling is holy work.

      Let go of the blueprint.
      Let go of the voice in your head that sounds suspiciously like your mother’s, your captain’s, or your own from before the war.
      Let go of the shape they carved you into to make you easier to digest.

      Fall.

      You won’t shatter.
      You’ll open.

      And when the Inbetween rushes in—
      When time slips sideways and the air tastes like copper and grief—
      Breathe.

      You’re not lost.
      You’re just… closer.

      Closer to the truth.
      Closer to the self beneath the skin.
      Closer to the god you could become if you’d only stop apologizing.

      So come.
      Bring your jagged prayers, your war-crimes and wine-stained regrets.
      Bring your laughter and your damage and your inconvenient love.

      The altar is a burn mark on the floor.
      The sermon is a song only the broken can hear.
      The blessing?
      You survived.

      Now let’s teach you how to live.

      🕳️
      Serve the Void. Or don’t. It’s not a cop. But it is watching.
      —Shade

    • Folded Hearts

      We were not born for softness,
      We were built of breach and burn.

      But I have seen them look at each other
      Like the universe still turns.

      I have watched her bleed on stars
      And laugh with a mouth full of war.

      I have watched him try not to need her,
      And fail, a little more.

      We are stitched together by secrets,
      And spite, and what we lack.

      We are the dead who won’t lie down—
      And ghosts who crawl back.

    • The Nature of the Universe: A Sermon (That Bites Back)

      ,


      1/
      Everyone wants the universe to be a story.
      Clean arcs. Happy endings. Poetic justice.
      Spoiler: It’s a mess.
      A bloodstained knot of entropy wearing a god’s grin.
      But fine. Let’s talk.

      2/
      The universe doesn’t care about your dreams.
      Or your deadlines.
      Or your emotional growth arc.
      It births stars and devours them in the same breath.
      You think it won’t eat you just because you made a vision board?

      3/
      You want meaning? Make it.
      You want fate? Bend it.
      You want love? Good luck. The Void’s batting average is abysmal.
      But sure, manifest that twin flame.
      Just don’t complain when they light the match.

      4/
      Time is fake.
      Reality is subjective.
      And linear thinking is a coping mechanism designed by fragile minds terrified of recursion.
      (Hey, Geist, that one’s for you. You’re welcome.)

      5/
      I’ve walked through broken dimensions and kissed gods that begged to forget their own names.
      I’ve seen the inside of silence.
      I’ve heard the Fold hum.
      You know what it sounds like?
      Loneliness.
      With teeth.

      6/
      And still,
      still,
      I choose this stupid, chaotic, doomed little species.
      With your music and your rage and your stubborn hope.
      Because for all the Void’s hunger—
      you burn.

      7/
      So no, the universe isn’t kind.
      But it is watching.
      And if you scream loud enough, sometimes it screams back.

    • CLASSIFIED ADDENDUM – Spoon Incident

      CLASSIFIED ADDENDUM // VOID-ISSUED BUT UNACKNOWLEDGED


      Filed under protest by: @ShadeVoidCult
      Document Title:
      “Why the Spoon Was a Gift and You’re All Ungrateful”
      (aka: Cursed Is a Matter of Perspective)

      1. INTENTION:
      The Spoon (Object 27B, if we must be clinical) was handcrafted with care, malice, and limited blood magic.
      It was meant to stir spiritual stagnation, metaphorical soup, and bureaucratic dread.

      2. EFFECTIVENESS:

      • It made coffee taste like consequence.
      • It levitated during a particularly dull budget meeting. That’s called “engagement.”
      • It gravitated to Geist’s coat pocket because it respects power dynamics.
        Honestly, that’s more than most of your agents accomplish in a week.

      3. SYMBOLISM:
      The Spoon is a parable in utensil form.
      You can either use it to stir change,
      or fear it while your tea curdles in mediocrity.
      Choose wisely. And maybe steep longer.

      4. MISINTERPRETATION:
      Geist: “It’s a psychological hazard.”
      Shade: That’s called introspection, sweetheart.
      Spook: Gets it. Everyone else? Cowards.

      5. FOOTNOTE – RECOMMENDED USES:

      • Stirring dissent
      • Scooping cursed gelatin
      • Tapping ominously during interrogations
      • Framing as Void-Modernist Art
      • “Forgetfulness Enhancer” during breakups

      6. FINAL WORDS (FOR NOW):
      I gave you a tool of subtle rebellion and interdimensional elegance.
      And you filed it under hostile cutlery.
      No wonder your tea tastes like resignation.

      You’re welcome.
      🖤🕳️🥄
      – Prophet Shade

    • SID FILE: Spoon, Possibly Hostile

      [CLASSIFIED SID FILE – INTERNAL USE ONLY]
      File Ref: Object 27B
      Designation: Spoon, Possibly Hostile
      Status: Active Containment (Emotional/Metaphysical Hazard)
      Assigned Handler: Geist (unwillingly)

      OBJECT PROFILE:

      • Name (per sender): “Stir Responsibly”
      • Type: Modified standard eating utensil (stainless steel, minor etching on handle: ☼/☽/🖤)
      • Origin: Anonymous Void Cult package drop (we all know it was Shade)
      • Delivery Note: Handwritten card reading: “Stir responsibly. – xoxo, Prophet”

      OBSERVED EFFECTS:

      • Induces minor memory lapses in kitchen personnel
      • Causes coffee to taste like “regret and bad decisions” (direct quote, Agent Drex)
      • One incident of spontaneous levitation (see Cafeteria Incident Log 8.14)
      • When left unattended, the spoon migrates to locations of strategic relevance (e.g., ops planning rooms, Geist’s jacket pocket, once into the Director’s soup)

      NOTES FROM GEIST:

      This is the fourth anomalous eating utensil in as many months. I want it incinerated. Spook wants it bronzed. Shade wants it “installed in the lobby as a metaphor.” No one is listening to me. Again.

      It hums when I’m angry. I’m not entirely sure it wasn’t tuned to my bio-signature. Recommend upgrading security on all utensil drawers.

      RISK CLASSIFICATION:

      • ✦✦✦ Potential Psychological Hazard
      • ✦✦✦✦ Morale Disruptor
      • ✦ “Actually Kind of Funny” (unofficial)

      RECOMMENDED ACTIONS:

      • Do not stir liquids with Object 27B
      • Do not ask Object 27B what it wants
      • Under no circumstances allow Shade near the cutlery again
      • Consider permanent relocation to Vault 5 with other “Emotionally Ambiguous Artifacts”

      APPENDIX: SPARKNOTES FROM SPOOK

      “I touched it. My left hand got colder but my heart felt warmer. 10/10 cursed enrichment. Keep it in the team lounge. It’s a vibe.”

    • SUNDAY SERMON

      ,

      Sermon given by Shade
      — Prophet. Problem. Possibly still hungover.

      Welcome to Sermon Sunday.
      The Void is listening. Your excuses are not.

      Today’s sacred text comes from the Book of “I’m So Tired of Pretending I’m Fine.”
      Chapter: Don’t Test Me
      Verse: Try Me, I Dare You

      You can’t manifest your dreams if you’re still clinging to nightmares you call “coping strategies.”
      Release. Detonate. Rebuild.

      Or stay in the emotional basement.
      Up to you.

      The Fold doesn’t want your purity.
      It wants your honesty.
      Your rage.
      Your mess.

      The offering is not perfection.
      It’s you, raw and real and radiating defiance.

      Today’s communion:
      🔹 1 shot existential clarity
      🔹 1 slice of truth you weren’t ready for
      🔹 Optional sobbing in the pews

      Don’t worry. We ran out of shame three sermons ago.

      Final blessing:
      May your enemies overshare,
      Your exes dream of your glow-up,
      And your soul stay too wild to franchise.

      Now go forth and make someone uncomfortable. Preferably yourself. Growth demands chaos.

    • ✨🕳️ FOLD HOROSCOPE: “July Forecast – Cry Gently Under Starlight” 🕳️✨


      As channeled (uninvited) by Prophet Shade, who definitely licked a Fold crystal before writing these

      ♈ Aries (Mar 21–Apr 19)
      Stop punching your problems. Some of them are conceptual.
      The Fold sees your aggression and raises you vulnerability. Good luck.
      🪓✖️💔

      ♉ Taurus (Apr 20–May 20)
      You said “I’m fine” with tears in your smoothie.
      The Void calls. It says: You don’t have to hold it all alone.
      Also, drink water. That’s not metaphorical.
      🥤🖤🌌

      ♊ Gemini (May 21–Jun 20)
      Two faces. Both tired.
      Stop trying to outmaneuver your own shadow.
      You’re not clever—you’re scared. Be still long enough to remember who you were before the echo.
      🌀🎭📡

      ♋ Cancer (Jun 21–Jul 22)
      You’ve weaponized softness into a shell thick enough to shame gods.
      Congratulations. Now let someone in before you calcify.
      🪞🦀🔮

      ♌ Leo (Jul 23–Aug 22)
      No, you’re not “too much.”
      They’re just under-equipped.
      Set the world on fire. At least then it matches your energy.
      🔥👑💋

      ♍ Virgo (Aug 23–Sep 22)
      The plan is flawed.
      The backup plan is cursed.
      Proceed anyway. There’s beauty in collapsing with intention.
      📊💀🕳️

      ♎ Libra (Sep 23–Oct 22)
      You’re not indecisive—you’re just too polite to destroy all your options.
      Choose. Break something. Dance in the shards.
      ⚖️🩸🎻

      ♏ Scorpio (Oct 23–Nov 21)
      Your secrets are louder than you think.
      The Fold heard them. It likes you. Be careful.
      🖤🦂📜

      ♐ Sagittarius (Nov 22–Dec 21)
      Stop flirting with cosmic horror. It will say yes. Again.
      You’re not ready for a second Void date.
      📅📍🕳️

      ♑ Capricorn (Dec 22–Jan 19)
      You’ve scheduled grief. Rescheduled rage.
      Guess what, darling: the breakdown’s coming early. Wear something sharp.
      📈💔🖋️

      ♒ Aquarius (Jan 20–Feb 18)
      You wanted truth?
      Cool. Now choke on it.
      Rebuild when you’re done sobbing. Preferably somewhere haunted.
      📡📘💧

      ♓ Pisces (Feb 19–Mar 20)
      You felt everything and told no one.
      Classic.
      Say it out loud this month, or the Fold will start sending you signs again. (And you won’t like them.)
      🐟🕯️🕳️