#The Dark Moons of Slough

[quote-from-the-hip]

"By the power of the great British bake off!"

- Luke Manning, The Dark Moons of Slough

[towersofviolet]

if i had a nickel for every time aj had to physically separate sam and luke who are making aggressive animal noises at each other, i'd have two nickels, which isn't a lot but it's weird that it's happened twice

[i-may-be-an-emu]

I might have already said this but I find it SO impressive that Sam just. Makes up. An entire soup recipe on the spot.

[dereks-unrelenting-heart]

SFTH Chaotic Highlights (The Dark Moons of Slough)

My fourth longform highlights post and I think I'm getting better at this commentary thing

Starting off with yet another example of Luke and Sam being on the exact same wavelength. Luke hears the title, gets onstage, within a second starts cackling like a witch, and Sam joins in with zero hesitation. I love their dynamic so much, they bounce off each other so well

Luke's insistence on having 3 witches like it's Hocus Pocus or something-

AJ's voice dying while he tries to do a witch voice lmao

Synchronized improv must be insane to attempt, the fact their little chant made any sense at all is astonishing tbh

And yes, the witches' spell building up the scene just for it to create soup to win a food festival is pretty funny

Have any of the fanartists drawn the witches with their big ball of floating soup? Because I just really wanna see that visualized

"We do not speak of the Great Wizard, Ascaroth!" Only a matter of time before someone fucks up that name

"We don't do it anymore, we just call him.. That PrickTM"

I wasn't 100% sure but yeah, The Big Book of Soups does in fact exist. And now I want it, purely as an inside joke

Before a quick google search, I did not know who Jamie Oliver was, so the whole first run through this play I had no idea what the naked chef jokes were referencing, I just appreciated them without context. Just like I did for the entirety of The Prime Minister's First Day (because American)

Sam taking any opportunity to moan #1 (probably not actually the first time, but I'm gonna start a tally istg)

I like when someone tries to set up a plot point and we as the audience get to watch it either slowly fade away or burn up on impact. "Maybe we should sabotage That PrickTM" by Sam is an example of the latter

The bottled soup bit where Sam's confused (because apparently it's a Spain thing) and Luke also being confused (because I'm certain he completely blanked on the fact bottled soup is not normal to see in the UK)

Another thing they do a lot is when two characters are bickering and quickly descend into unintelligible noises and a third person typically has to calm them down

AJ deciding to randomly sing That PrickTM's name (yes I'll be doing that the entire post), and Sam just has to explain it away by saying it's his ringtone

Hugh Fernly Whittingstone/Stall might be the fastest name fuck-up they've ever had. But I think the subtitles are the only ones that noticed, so it barely counts

Might need to start a tally for AJ entering the scene as a random animal as well

This time, only to get brutally murdered and eaten. The most fucked up thing I've laughed at in a while, that was an insane move on Sam's part

No, I will not be trusting that process Sam

No wonder the witches call him That PrickTM

"It's me, Jamie Oliver" AJ acting like this is new, previously secret information

"I know it's dark magic, Jamie. How else would someone like you become a famous chef?" Okay I didn't learn that much about him, do people not like Jamie Oliver?

Live reaction while making this post: "Hey Jemima, good to see you again :) Last time we would've seen you was.. wait IS THIS THE FIRST APPEARANCE OF JEMIMA?!"

Jemima origins

"What happened last time with the witches was a one-off thing" As this series goes, we'll soon learn how much AJ loves using the phrase 'one-off thing', I can think of 2 examples off the top of my head but y'all are just gonna have to wait and see

Yeah Jemima, she's always had the snort, don't be a dick about it

"What if the witches enter again?" Very curious what happened with the witches the last time, because they seem relatively harmless this year

Sam entering with his perfect comedic timing as a 'young boy'

"From the valleys" deserves to be in one of those sfth vocal stim compilations

AJ's internal monologue "Okay I need to differentiate this character somehow but we don't have props today. This character is obviously evil, he provides dogs to be cooked for God's sake.. Oh I know!" *wraps himself in curtain* "A CLOAK!"

"Why are you dressed like Emperor Palpatine?" Hold on, I need to google something... Yeah, that's funny.

Unexpected Calm app shoutout

AJ searching desperately through his mind catalogue for the word 'update'

They're doing a bunch of what I'd assume is difficult shit, now Sam's out here improvising soup recipes (that double as classic witch spells that make you speak in tongues)

I'm with Luke, what is so funny about 75 years of soup tasting?

Why do I love the way Sam says 'the valleys' so much, it's so funny to me and I will repeat it every goddamn time

"Memories flooding back of childhood" "It's like Ratatouille" I guess I gotta rewatch Ratatouille

Love their universal sing of flashback being repeating the last phrase over and over while they spin around awkwardly

"I have to go find my mother" He abandons the scene and the play ends, roll credits

When one of them yells with such a random aggression "The competition, don't ruin THE COMPETITION!"

"Then I will find mama" "Yes, you'll deal with that later.." AJ's character are very good at not caring at all recently

"I was hold back" Please AJ, grammatically continue

"This soup is called leek leek leek" Leek³ you might say

Luke laughing in the middle of his character's second memory-related breakdown as he realizes how dumb this is

"Which of you is my real mama??" I think Past Hugh just drugged himself

Forgot to mention Witch #1 as Luke's first gremlin mode character in my sfth recurring roles post

Luke: "I'm a 16 year old!" Still Luke: "Do all of you just announce your ages?" Luke just setting himself up like that

".... Leek" "We've got a theme going" Okay but the real question is, are all of them from The Valleys?

"You took my mother from me" Oh did Jamie Oliver kill Hugh's m- "We've been on many, many long evenings" Oh Jamie Oliver FUCKED Hugh's mom

Wizard Duel (featuring Sam with special effects) goes hard

"16 raw eggs!" I don't think that's a spell, I think you're just pelting him with raw eggs

Wait a second, is this whole duel just a food fight where they magically summon all of their ammo-

"What score do I get?" "... 9.8, that was fucking good" Bro went on one hell of a trip

"Ah yes of course, Akaram" Hey now, we all know the Great Wizard's name is That PrickTM

"Get it right, you racist" Aside from the fact I have no idea who this would be racist towards, it's giving the same vibes as the one Book Game where Tom calls the Chinese book Japanese and Sam ofc takes the fuck-up as a chance to call him a bigot

*Me, watching this play for like a 4th time* "... Wait.. Something's off here.... WHERE THE FUCK IS TOM?"

I know where Luke is most of the time when he's gone, but where's Tom at? Same question for Sam during Burglary and Bobsleds

"Stiff like the naked chef's erection inside your mother?" ".. How public was the dream I just had?" That moment you relive your traumatic backstory via magic/drug/leek soup and it turns out they were broadcasted to the rest of the crowd as well, so now the whole city knows Jamie Oliver fucked your mom

I literally just rewatched this a few days ago and I've already forgotten what That PrickTM's soup did

Jamie Oliver: *gets possessed* That PrickTM: "Ainsley Harriott has joined us as well" Well off I go to google another English chef

Turns out the captions spelled his name wrong

Luke having to play his own character's mother is very in character of him actually

"By the power of the Great British Bake Off" fucking GOT ME-

"Mother, you're alive!" "Just about" wtf does that mean??

Final Thoughts: Oh the power you hold when you're the first one onstage.. Who knew Luke's witch cackle could bring us a story of leek soup, missing mothers, and an evil English chef

[svnnyd4ys]

updated update of the Xavier (SFTH) family tree!!

@not-an-idiot thank you very much for your help with this!!! i made this post because there have been quite a few developments to it and it's nice to have it all in one post :))

here is the overview, and then we'll dive deeper into each branch/backstory on the tree! (long post under the cut because i cannot stop rambling about this stuff, it's so interesting)

----

BUS: Celia is just a random name, but felt fitting! 'Big Dick' has always been a nickname of the family's patriarch, Arthur. He is also the main source of any sort of 'powers' within the family, as he is able to time travel/project his consciousness across space and time (much like his daughter, Thomasin).

He has some kind of immortality deal going on, and he dedicates his books to his great-great grandson, Samuel Babb-Dailey (aka the protagonist from Beetroots & Murder).

TOO BIG TO BE A JOCKEY: Jonas Langbook is the youngest of Celia and Arthur's 3 children, and he is also the manor owner from Too Big To Be A Jockey. He's the family 'embarrassment' but the parents favour him, because he reminds BD of himself. he did not 'earn' the manor, in fact- it was a gift.

Despite his flaws, Jonas loves his nieces and in fact, often has Samantha visiting as she often struggled with leaving the house, (his sister was always the same, little did they know it's a side affect of the visions) and so this encouraged her in doing so, and helped her build her confidence. Jonas would also teach both Sally and Samantha how to ride, and one night, Samantha was out in the stables, and that's where she met Egbert for the first time (but more on that later).

PRISCILLA'S FINAL PETAL: Earl is both his name and title- he moved to Germany from England because he wanted to stay as far away from Jonas as possible. (because he's a dick)

He met Annabelle at a German flower shop, they got married, had Priscilla etc. but much like his brother, Earl struggles to keep his eyes on one thing, and he ends up meeting one of Thomasin's friends, Lily, when he is visiting Celia on her deathbed. (something something, their entire relationship has been built upon important people in their lives dying).

Unfortunately, Annabelle dies, but Lily's there to comfort him, and be a good mother figure for Priscilla. How wholesome!

MARIGOLDS, BLUEBELLS, AND HUGH: Annabelle is the daughter of Inga and Hugh (aside, i've not watched this play in ages, so like i'm not saying they're romantically involved or anything bc i don't remember it much at all, so they could've just adopted her etc.), and she's always loved plants. So much so that when she and Earl first move into their estate, she insists on planting all sorts, for example, buttercups.

THE LEFTENMOST WINDOW: Thomasin is the middle child and only daughter of Celia and BD. From a young age, Thomasin has struggled with fatigue, headaches and leaving the house. Alexander was one of the Langbrook's 'Hallboys' and was Thomasin's only friend for most of her childhood.

They got married at ages 19 & 20 respectively. BD had a lot of respect for Alexander, but Celia would often try to break the pair up. At age 15, Thomasin had her first traverse across the astral plane, and told no one, apart from her father. When the Boer war broke out, Samantha and Sally had both already been born, but Alexander still had no idea.

He only found out when one night, he heard a voice he thought that he'd never hear again.

Samantha is around 6 years older than Sally, and during the Boer war, acted as her main caretaker for a while due to Thomasin's migraines becoming worse and getting more frequent. Sally's always been the more rambunctious of the pair, and at ages 15 and 9 respectively, the two of them travel to Jonas' manor.

Sally is always up and about, running around the stables, talking to the farmhands, whereas Samantha is usually reading inside, or sitting on the hay bales.

One night, Samantha falls asleep outside on one of those days, and who wakes her up? None other than the son of one of her uncle's friends, Egbert Babb-Dailey. 3 years later, the two of them are getting married and then the First World War breaks out, leading to Samantha's powers to develop.

(i've made so many TLW posts that go further into these ideas, feel free to check them out!!)

BEETROOTS AND MURDER: Samantha and Egbert have two children (they were both born later on in their lives, as they struggled to conceive), however, when their children are quite young, Samantha and Egbert pass away in a house fire, the cause of which is unknown.

Samuel 'Big Dick' Babb-Dailey is sent away to live with Cyrus and Summer Setchell (get it?). He has repressed all memories of his life before moving to Somerset. All he remembers is that he quite likes fire. The only connections he has to his past are the dedications in the sex books some random guy writes and then drops off at his parents house. This has led to him also getting the nickname 'Big Dick' and quietly resenting the man. He also has no idea about his sister.

The fire gives him back some memories of his past, but all he can really remember are their names.

THE PILOT'S FINAL FLIGHT: Martha is Egbert and Samantha's second child, and instead of being sent away like her brother, her aunt Sally insisted on taking her in. (possibly because she's aware that it's more likely for Martha to develop the visions than her brother, and she doesn't want her to suffer alone the same way Samantha did).

For most of her life, Martha actually didn't seem that affected by anything. She was more like Sally than Samantha and Sally began to wonder whether or not she'd taken in the right sibling, but then when Martha was 16, she became afflicted by terrible migraines.

Months after the migraines started, Martha awoke in a cold sweat, and explained that she had a vision of a horrible fire and the name Samuel. That was her first ever future dream, and the last time she ever had one... Well. Technically.

Martha and Leyland meet for the first time because he's (attempting) to buy flowers for his mum, but really has no idea what he's doing or what she'd want. Martha has some knowledge of flowers, because her 'Aunt' Priscilla had gifted her several books, so she assisted him in picking the best ones. From there on, the rest was history.

They got married, Leyland graduated and joined the RAF Research project, all whilst raising their son, Michael. When Leyland's mission goes horribly wrong, Sally begins to take up most of the childcare, allowing Martha to develop a drinking problem. There comes a point where Sally refuses to help her anymore, so Martha is left alone to raise Michael for good.

Years go by, Leyland doesn't return, Martha's not had a dream in years and Michael just seems angry. (In my mind, he's inherited more of Arthur BD's traversing powers, than the future dreams)

And then Martha starts to hear him calling to her, and Michael goes into the astral plane to save him, and all is done.

THE NEIGHBOUR'S UNDER THE BED/DARK MOONS OF SLOUGH Samuel becomes a single father to James and Penelope, who are twins. The pair are mostly raised equally, until Penelope develops her future dreams at age 9 and this majorly scares Samuel. (reminds him of worse times).

With this, Samuel focuses nearly all of his attention on James, bringing him to every football match and providing attention and support, whilst completely ignoring Penelope.

At first, James did feel bad for his sister, and would try and get his dad to pay attention to her, but eventually, just ignoring her and going along with whatever Samuel was doing was easier, and also felt better.

James' first future dream came when he was 15, and Samuel was much more prepared this time. Penelope would watch in envy, and the boys would ignore her completely.

He eventually meets his Martha at one of his matches (Penelope was there too, she always was) and the pair go on to get married, and have Johnny and Janae. After the kids were born, Penelope left and moved to Slough.

When she heard that Janae had also developed future dreams at the same age Penelope had, she came back. Over the years, she'd managed to make a soup which helped to repress the headaches, so she would send batches over to help her family.

does this make sense? hopefully xx

[breadbut3d]

Just watched the dark moons of slough and oh my god it’s soo good! How have I not watched it before! Also this is how I find out they have bottled soup in Spain??

Aj as Jamie Oliver was so funny, his voice fit so well lol.

[sfth-ratings-and-reviews]

The Dark Moons of Slough- 5/10

This play starts off really strong, with three chaotic evil witches who seemingly... just want to win a food festival/soup tasting competition? Asgaroth the (evil?) soup restaurant owner/wizard and Jamie Oliver, the antagonists of the story, come in to mess with the judge of the soup competition. While very fun characters, their motivations throughout the story were a little unclear and inconsistent. Regardless, the story was very strong until the competition started, at which point the plot got lost. Does anyone care about the three witch protagonists at the end? Nah, they were all just part of the bigger plot against the judge. Why is everyone against the judge? Because... yeah, no one is quite sure. At least there are fun facts to learn- did you know that in Spain, you can buy bottled soup? Bonus points to Sam for coming up with an entire soup recipe on the spot and negative points to Luke and AJ for claiming two leeks chopped up in a pie and sixteen raw eggs belong in any soup.

[bbatcat-09]

The three witches

Based vaguely on SFTH’s #4: The Dark Moons Of Slough.

[practicedvmm13fullofpotatoes]

All of sfth's improvized plays described by someone with bad/selective memory (but remembers 90% of the sentences they make up) pt. 1

1) Oh My God, Is This A Joke?

Xavier died as he lived. ✨Shirtless✨ (THIS IS THE ONLY THING I REMEMBER FROM OMGiTaJ I AM NOT KIDDING)

2) The Merengue Haberdashery

The sick wife wasn't sick and something something she's the lady of a thousand Don Juans and she ends up winning *insert villain laugh here*

3) Lost In Your Eyes

THREE MEN ON A SHIP-UH WE USED TO BE FIFTY-FOUR. Also, gun-knife and knife-gun :))

4) The Dark Moons of Slough

Magic soup. Luke's character getting flashbacks + Luke carrying the last scene of the play

5) Long Johns - STRIKE!

They should have kissed.... Hhhhhsgdhnss... OH and also it was a very chilly winter. D.I Mannering got nothing on his lower half. His wife said "why didn't you just wear trousers?" he said "no. that's what they want"

Prev // Next

[brunette-gremlin]

if i had a nickel each time a female character played by aj would disregard luke's character having a bad omen about the future, i would have three nickels, which is not a lot but makes it way too funny to be true

[neighbourhoodtwo]

playing along with the dm and giving your character and their weapons a cool backstory vs "i bought them from a shop"

[quote-from-the-hip]

“The thunder clacks in the sky and the dark moons rise.” “Clacks in the sky?” “Clacks in the sky, clickity clack, clickity clack."

- Sam Russell and AJ, The Dark Moons of Slough

[mikesflaccidlemonade7]

What is Luke's omen having witch lady character from dark moons of slough called again

[i-may-be-an-emu]

Fullset

Ashen

Lucas

Egbert (ft. Monologue 😌)

Jamie Oliver (sfth version lol)

I had a refrence for the start of the first one but no others (ref under cut :))

[comatosebunny09]

cw: body horror, gore, minor character deaths, cannibalism (?), sylus is a shape-shifting eldritch horror, decapitation, dead animals, smidge of fluff, abuse, sylus just wants to make you happy, a continuation of this, not proofread, mdni

Sylus wanted you to remember him so badly. The kindness you’d shown him as if it were second nature, despite what he was—what he was becoming.

He recalled it so vividly, as clear as the coppery moon pinned to the night sky.

He was changing. His metamorphosis. He was confused. Losing himself. Teetering on that frayed edge between man and beast.

He remembers wandering the woods. Searching for something to satiate the hunger sinking its talons into his stomach lining. No matter what he consumed—wild hares, mushrooms, berries, deer—the pain wouldn’t subside. It hurt so much, it singed his throat like magma.

He recalled clawing at his neck until it was raw, swollen red, and welting with scratches—when did his fingernails grow so long?

He fainted in the midst of the forest when the pain overwhelmed him, overhauled his senses, and he screamed something inhuman. Something beastly that made the trees fall silent, and darkness greeted him with her deceptively tender embrace.

—

He awoke the next day to the sun’s treacherous glow. The hunger was still there, low in his throat, burbling like heated liquid. However, he had other matters to attend to.

He was incredibly sensitive to the sunlight where he once freely walked beneath it. So sensitive, it scorched his skin until the scent of cooked meat salted the air and smoke furled from his exposed limbs.

He sought refuge in a cave. Dark, dank, lonely. He didn’t know what was happening. Why he felt so hungry, why the sun detested him, why his nails were elongated and blackening.

To further aid his misery, a new pain crept in. Sunk deep into the marrow of his bones, into his very being.

He screamed a blood-curdling scream as his bones broke and rearranged themselves. As his spine felt like it was being ripped in twain, and something began to sprout from his shoulder blades.

He’d never felt such despair, such agony as he curled into himself on the cold, unforgiving ground, tears scorching down his face, sobs welling in his throat.

He was never a religious man, but he prayed for a swift death. Anything to end this pain. To take away this voracity. He wasn’t sure what he had done to warrant such cruelty—why his body was rejecting him, why his bones shuffled about beneath his skin, why his head throbbed and bled as something sprouted from it.

He just wanted it to end.

And for a moment, it did.

—

He wasn’t sure how long he had been out. How long his transformation took. But when he awoke in the cave, moonlight spilling in alongside every amplified sound, scent, sight, and sensation, he knew he was no longer the man he was four days ago.

He felt something primal scraping at the base of his skull. Something beastly. He tested his voice, his throat raw from screaming, from trying to rip the hunger free, and he was surprised to hear a growl in place of his usual drawl.

He looked down to note that his clothes were in tatters, and hard, obsidian skin covered half of his body. His hands were in similar condition, the soft, warm ivory skin traded for…were those…scales? Talons?

The hunger puppeteered him, propelling him to stand, outweighing the terror that began to seep in. He would deal with his new form later. Something smelled sweet, arresting his senses—so bewitchingly so, he couldn’t ignore it, driven by instinct and a primal need to quench this unyielding thirst.

He exited his safe haven, his prison, leaving a clump of sloughed-off flesh and blood in his stead. He wandered the forest like something half-dead, like something cursed to patrol the earth for eons, when the saccharine scent grew stronger.

He could feel everything—hear everything, smell everything—saliva puddling in his cheeks as the potency of that aroma grew with each stumbling step forward.

He came to a clearing, shrouded by broken branches and bowing trees. The forest dwellers fell silent as if commanded to do so by his presence. He peered through the branches, noting a fire burning in the center of the clearing, along with the sounds of laughter, conversation, and music. But above all else, he smelled it—that dulcet scent that powered him through his torment and led him here.

He studied the group of people gathered around a campfire. Their scents varied, some of them stomach-turning, and the others faint. But he recalls one that peered through them all like a lighthouse beaconing through a storm. And he watched you like a predator on the prowl as you stood from a log, brushing your hands off on your thighs, and wandering towards the opposite side of the clearing.

He followed you from the shadows, led by your aroma like a fish on a line. He ducked between trees and bushes until you were isolated, turning away from him to relieve yourself. Gods, even your bodily fluids made his throat burn. Made his tongue loll about in his mouth, that inhuman hunger festering into something more potent.

You were oblivious to his presence. He could’ve easily leapt from the inkiness to tear into your throat. Something in you called to him—sang to him like a siren, something deep beneath your flesh. Something corporeal that begged to be consumed.

He felt his canines elongating in his mouth, and it spilled open, saliva pouring in heavy rivulets from his maw. He reeled back on his haunches, preparing for an attack. His bones shifted again, though the pain was a little more bearable than the first time. In place of a scream, he grunted an animalistic sound, something reminiscent of a buck.

He leapt from his hiding spot, poised to rend your flesh from your bones, but he stilled. He was stricken by something. Something cold, something petrifying. Fear? Regret? Pity?

You turned to him with alarm flashing across your features. Limned by the coppery spill of the moon, you were something ethereal. Possessed the beauty of a goddess descending from the heavens, coupled with that all-consuming aroma.

You neared him cautiously, holding out a placating hand with half a smile on your face. “It’s okay, little fella,” you said with that mellifluous voice, the sound of it rivaled by the twigs breaking beneath your feet. “I won’t hurt you.”

He took a cautious step back on his hooves to match every one of your steps toward. Eventually, you cornered him. And weren’t you so foolish? So trusting, holding out a hand and walking into his trap like every fiber of his being wasn’t screaming for him to tear into you.

He found himself bowing slightly as your knuckles grazed his antler (?) before your soft hand found his nose, and you began to pet him. He chuffed at the gentleness of your caress, still burning to possess that scent. To consume you wholly.

But you had shown him a glimmer of tenderness when he was confused. When he was in agony. When he was falling apart, unaware of what he was becoming.

Your voice was sweet as you crouched, a fond crinkle to your eyes as you pet him a little more confidently. You chuckled as he waggled his ear, smacking your wrist non-too-gently with it.

“There, there, little guy,” you cooed, manipulating him with your kindness. Your patience. “I won’t hurt you. I promise.”

You were a strange one, stroking over the fur of a killer like your life wasn’t in danger. Like he couldn’t rip you asunder and lick your bones clean, leaving only your memory in his stead. But he bowed despite his instincts, his eyes blinking shut, and he allowed you to pet him longer, driven towards a peace he hadn’t known for four days by the gentle croon of your voice and the devastation of your fingers scratching behind his ears.

Someone called to you, disrupting the moment. He remembered himself, standing on his hooves like a shaky fawn, startling you. You fell onto your rear with round eyes when he darted back into the forest, sparing a glance before running towards safety.

He watched your friend come to you. Listened to them admonish you for wandering so far off from camp. You laughed sheepishly, and his ears were tuned to the sound of your footsteps before you were completely out of sight. Your smell still lingered, clinging to every branch and tree trunk you passed.

His stomach still churned. Still screamed at him, that hunger ever-present, the need to sink his teeth into something. But he decided tonight, it wouldn’t be you. It couldn’t be you—not yet, at least. Not when you’d been so kind—the sunlight in a world slowly sinking into darkness.

So, he redirected his newfound hunger to a hermit residing deep within the woods. Her blood didn’t completely assuage the gnarling feeling in his belly, her agonized screams, the crunching of her bones between his teeth.

But it was a start.

—

He was pleased to know you hadn’t lived too far from where he initially encountered you those days back.

He tracked your scent to a quiet, unassuming lake house. And he watched you live and thrive through your windows from the shroud provided by the forest, still ensnared by your aroma, but drawn to you by something…deeper than hunger.

A burning need to protect you. To provide for you. To return your kindness tenfold, where you had nearly signed your death sentence.

He wanted to express his gratitude. But by day fourteen, he was mostly beast, the only glimmer of humanity buried within his psyche tuned only to you.

He showed his thankfulness in the only way he knew how, given his new form, initially with dead, mangled cats set up on your porch like an offering laid upon an altar. But you always disposed of them after screaming bloody murder. Were they not to your liking?

He tried harder, this time dropping larger offerings at your front door while you were out. He was aware of your habits, including when you came home and when you left. The deer didn’t seem to satisfy you, either. So, he took to cleaning their bones with his unnaturally long tongue and sewing them together with moss and twine into necklaces and other adornments.

That caught your interest.

But you still didn’t seem satisfied, never once taking his gifts into your home. So, he opted for more drastic measures.

That man who had been coming to your home some nights, pushing you around, slapping you, berating you? He didn’t see Sylus coming when he ventured to your home one evening, the pungent odor of alcohol wafting off his skin, his soul rotten. Sylus swooped down from the treetops, courtesy of his wings, and he had never tasted a human so foul as he tore into the man’s throat.

No matter.

He would do anything to make you smile like you did all those nights back, even if it made him vomit.

Of all the presents he had left on your doorstep—the fruit from the forest, the deer carcasses, the intricately crafted bone jewelry, the buck skulls littered with wildflowers—that man’s severed, green, bubbling head perched on your rocking chair on your porch seemed to sate you.

You didn’t scream. Didn’t retch. Didn’t cry for help from your neighbors. Instead, you—

You smiled.

[svnnyd4ys]

some sfth plays as Richard Siken poetry quotes bc i love combining my interests sorry guys

might do a version where it's characters with very specific ones, but for now the plays!! these quotes make the plays seem much sadder than they are lmfaoo

plays 1-10 under the cut~

OMG, IS THIS A JOKE? "It starts with bloodshed, always bloodshed, always the same running from yourself story," (driving, not washing - Crush)

THE MERINGUE HABERDASHERY "I woke up and ate ice cream in the dark, hunched over on the wooden chair in the kitchen, listening to the rain. I borrowed your shoes and didn't put them away." (i had a dream about you - Crush)

LOST IN YOUR EYES "I thought of myself as a city and I licked my lips. I thought of myself as a nation and I wrung my hands. I put a thing in your hands. Will you defend yourself?" (landscape with a blur of consequences - War of the Foxes)

THE DARK MOONS OF SLOUGH "They huddled closer, shoulder to shoulder, painted themselves in herds, all together and apart from the rest." (the language of the birds - War of the Foxes)

LONG JOHNS - STRIKE! "You're in a car. You're in the weeds again. You're on a bumpy roads and there are criminals everywhere, longing for danger." (the dislocated room - Crush)

TOO BIG TO BE A JOCKEY "A stone on the path means the tea's not ready, a stone in the hand means somebody's angry, the stone inside of you still hasn't hit bottom." (seaside improvisation - Crush)

THE OOPSIE DAISY BULGE "Our scope was much larger than I realised, which only made me that much more responsible." (detail of the hayfield - War of the Foxes)

THE HARE WHO WORE A SWEATER "The wife has a dead hand. This is earlier. She is living and her dead hands feed her pills that don't work. The boy sleeps on the roof or falls out of trees. The father works late. The wife looks out of the window and thinks, Not this." (war of the foxes - War of the Foxes)

ONCE UPON A TIME I KILLED MUM "'Cut off your head, kid. For all the good it'll do ya.' I glued my head back on. All thoughts finish themselves eventually." (landscape with fruit rot and millipede - War of the Foxes)

THE MIDNIGHT MYSTERY "He could build a city. Has a certain capacity. There's a niche in his chest where a heart could fit perfectly and he thinks if he could maneuver one into place- well then, game over." (road music - Crush)

(inside the mysterious cube is getting it's own post)