#Themes of death

[myhusbandsasemni]

The Writhing

Author's note: A short story for a friend of mine! I am very broke right now so I am paying for trips out with friends in goods and services, so you might see more random short stories from me in the future. This one is to pay for a virgin strawberry daiquiri and taco bowl.

Masterlist

Content warnings: Themes of death, creepy horror stuff OOoooooOOoooOoOoh, body horror, Main character death

.....................................

Basil sighed, dropping his bag just inside the door of his house. It was still new to him, and empty. It had belonged to his rather elderly mother who had him on accident at the age of 52, though she always loved and cared for him as though she were in her 20s. The house had been his grandfather’s before that. It was made ancient wood that seemed to highlight the loneliness of the place. Especially after his aunt had ransacked the house, taking everything that hadn’t been explicitly given to Basil in the will.

He closed his eyes for one moment, bracing himself before he closed the door. He shuffled toward the kitchen, tired from work and from the gloomy depression that had fallen on him ever since his mother died. He had been distraught about her death, watching her deteriorate so quickly only to find himself in possession of the old house, creepy without his mother’s lively presence here.

Basil ran his hands through his hair, shaking out the knots at the ends by his shoulders. He’d kept telling himself he’d get his hair cut, and never went and did it. Probably why his girlfriend left him. His mother died and he just couldn’t keep to commitments anymore. What was the point? What was the point of making it to a party on time if they would die anyway.

He tried to keep that thought out of his head. He knew he would get over this, that he would find joy in life again, but it was hard doing it on your own. None of his friends seemed to really care when his mother died. There was the stray, “Ah, that sucks dude,” but no serious help. And when he went to his girlfriend looking for comfort she chattered at him, never allowing him a word in edgewise, being silly in that air headed way he usually loved, but this time he snapped at her. And they had gotten into such an argument they’d broken up.

Now it was just him. Just him and this lonely old empty house, gutted of it’s soul and spirit. And he was alone.

He stopped in the kitchen, leaning on the counter and fought the urge to cry, to punch something. He could cry when he was comfortable in his room. All alone. With only a piece of toast for company. Maybe he should cut his crying session short to look on Facebook Marketplace for furniture and art to make this place feel more like a home again.

He reached for the bread, wiping a hand across of his face when he felt a warm burst of air on the back of his neck. He jumped and whirled around, but there was nothing there. Just his empty kitchen.

He shivered and went back to making toast, wiping at his neck to get the phantom sensation to go away.

After he had made his toast he climbed the stairs to his room, the only room in the whole house that felt safe to him anymore. The only room in the whole world, it sometimes seemed.

He crawled into bed, pulling his laptop into his lap and looking through to find a video before he ate his toast.

Just before he could click on an interesting looking on, the wifi went out, leaving him with a spinning wheel of death that very nearly sent him into a breakdown. He ate his toast, fighting back tears. He was fine. He was going to be fine. He should feel so lucky to have a house, even if the lights in the bathroom had begun to flicker the night before and the wifi was a little shoddy. In this day and age a house was an unspeakable gift, but he just wanted his life back. He wanted to be where he was three months ago, with his old mother letting him stay here when he wasn’t at his girlfriend’s apartment, friends that took him out to crazy parties, and a life just in general. He wanted to go home. This place wasn’t home anymore.

He curled up after his finished his toast, exhausted, and closed his eyes, falling asleep mercifully quickly.

…………………………..

Basil pattered about the house feeling marginally better. He hadn’t slept that well in a while and he had the day off from work. The world didn’t seem so bad now, though melancholy hung in the air of the house. He supposed that was only fair since its owner had passed away.

He found himself stopping and patting the counters and railings, windowsills and walls. “I’ll take good care of you,” he said. “Things like us have to stick together,” he told the house warmly. He tried not to dwell on the fact that he was talking and making promises to a house. He supposed he should be given some grace and leeway as well. He was mourning too.

He dug around in closets, finding cleaning supplies left behind, and old memories hidden behind that. He found a baseball cap with his old nickname embroidered on it. He smiled and loosened the strap, sticking it on his head after checking it for spiders.

Soon, he had a decent spread of cleaners on his counter and all he needed to do was get to cleaning the kitchen and bathroom. Then he would start looking into furniture and he would be on his way to getting better. At least, he hoped so. Cleaning his mother’s old house felt like the right step on the path to feeling better.

He was about to take his meager dishes out of the cupboards to wipe them down when he heard a thud behind him. He turned to see one of the bottles of Lysol had fallen on the floor.

He frowned. Basil didn’t think he had left anything sitting that close to the edge of the counter. He leaned down and picked it up, putting it back on the counter before turning around to get back to cleaning, only to hear a thud again.

The Lysol was once again on the floor.

“Is there a cat in here?” he asked himself, grabbing it and putting it on the counter, careful to center it on the marble.

He looked around and listened carefully, but didn’t see or hear any sign of a cat.

He turned around and went back to cleaning, but only had a couple of minutes of peace before there was a horrible sound of cleaner bottles slamming into one another and then onto the floor.

He turned in time to see all of the last of the bottles fall to floor, as though someone had swept them off violently.

He stared at the mess, some of the cleaners oozing across the floor, and then he was running. He didn’t know what was going and he didn’t want to find out.

He grabbed the handle of the front door to jerk it open only to stumble back, cursing and holding his hand. The handle was hot, but there wasn’t any fire he could see through the stained glass window in the door.

He turned to run for the nearest bathroom, intent on getting his burned palm under some cold water since it stung badly, but skidded to a halt in the doorway.

On the glass, in drippy red lettering, were the words, Oh, worm?

He stared at it uncomprehendingly for a long moment before the pain in his hand drove him back to the kitchen, hopping over the mess on the floor to run his hands under the tap.

He hissed softly at the pain and glanced nervously over his shoulder at the mess. How did that even happen? Had he done it? He knew grief did strange things to a person, so maybe he had swept it off and had been too distracted to realize.

Then what about the words in the bathroom? Or the burn. Well, he might have burned himself on the stove and didn’t notice until he tried to grab the door handle? This didn’t make any sense.

As soon as the burn on his hand had cooled and he had patted it dry, he apprehensively walked towards the bathroom, looking around the door at the mirror.

There weren’t any words on the mirror.

“You’ve been alone for too long, Baze,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head. He’d go out somewhere with people after he cleaned up the spilled chemicals. That would do him some good. Ground him back in reality. He had never done well on his own anyway. The house was big enough for a roommate. Maybe he could rent the place out. Some extra cash and a friendly face making some noise about the place would be good for him.

Basil finished cleaning up the spill, made sure his burn was taken care of, and headed toward the door. He slipped on a jacket and put his shoes on. It had been raining all day, soft and dark. He would have thought it cozy back before the house became so empty.

He stepped out onto the porch, reaching back to close the door when he looked down at the sidewalk.

Thin, pale bodies slid across the pavement, enjoying the rain above the ground. Normally, seeing so many worms on the pavement wouldn’t be so strange to Basil, but after the strange day he had, and those red words on the mirror? It made him rather uncomfortable now.

But they were just worms at the end of the day.

He stepped down off the porch, careful to avoid stepping on any worms as he made his way down to his car, and with that, he was off to the nearest pub.

……………………………………

Basil woke with a terrible hangover. He had enjoyed the pub, perhaps a bit too much, and had a couple of decent conversations with people. He’d felt human again, though this hangover was trying to take the humanity right out of him.

He groaned, sitting up and reaching blindly for his phone, finding it and looking at the screen through squinted eyes to try and save his brain from any more damage.

He frowned when he saw the time. 3:00 AM? What was he doing awake now? The hangover that was surely only going to get worse should have had him down until at least noon. As it stood, he’d only slept for 2 hours.

Maybe he was hungry. Or needed to go to the bathroom.

He sighed and got up, swaying a little as he did so before he found his balance in the dark and made his way to his bathroom.

He sat down on the toilet, leaving the lights off as he wiped at his face, hoping that the sleepiness would stay long enough for him to finish up here and go back to bed.

He got up and sighed to himself, pulling up his pants and stepping towards the sink. He screamed as he stepped in something wet, warm, and sticky.

He scrambled back, banging his elbow on the wall in his search for the light switch. As he got the lights on, he was met by a puddle of red liquid, spilled across the floor and sink counter, letters painted on the mirror. Most of it was nonsensical, but there was one thing he could make out.

Basil. I’m coming for you, Basil.

He fished his phone out of his pocket, lifting it to take a picture. He had to get a picture. He needed to know this was real.

His phone was knocked out of his hand, landing with a soft and sad plunk in the toilet.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a demonic female voice hissed with malice.

He pressed himself against the wall, looking around furiously for whoever had knocked his phone away and was speaking to him.

“Who’s there!?” He made his way, trembling, towards the door of the bathroom, but when he got there and touched the doorknob, it fell apart under his hand, clinking on the floor as the knob rolled off under a cabinet.

“It’s me, Basil. Look.”

He stared unseeingly around the bathroom again, shoving his shoulder against the door uselessly. That’s when the movement caught his attention. Something writhing on the counter amid the puddles of blood, sending little splashes here and there.

Basil woke up.

He gasped for air, clutching at his chest as his hair fell in his eyes. He leaned forward against his knees with a groan, his head throbbing from his time at the pub. Why did this have to be his life? He had one okay evening and then had a nightmare about a worm writhing about in blood.

He laid back down, curling into a little miserable ball.

………………………………

The worms were getting into the house.

Basil was not the superstitious type, but this was getting ridiculous. He tossed them out whenever they came in, but then they started arriving in little pairs, then small groups. It was getting to the point where he would toss them out on the pavement and squash them all viciously. He hadn’t had time to call any pest control about it this week, but as soon as he could, he would. Though the internet wasn’t very clear about if regular pest control could even do anything about worms. He had grown up with the understanding that they were supposed to be helpful little creatures, and he’d never heard about them getting into houses like this, sitting on the floors and waving their little heads around. He didn’t know how he knew, but he just knew they were screaming.

Basil sat down at his laptop after work on Friday and stared at the search bar for a minute before typing.

Worms keep getting into my house

He hit enter and scrolled down. There was general advice about how to board up cracks where they might be getting in and a couple of recipes for DIY worm away agents, but there was a forum on Reddit that caught his attention. He hovered his mouse over it and opened it up.

Hi reddit. I don’t know if this is the right place for this, but I really need help. I don’t know if there’s something wrong with my house or if I did something weird or what, but there are worms everywhere. Garden worms, you know? They’re everywhere and they’re forming little groups and, I don’t know, screaming. I know worms can’t scream, but I know they’re screaming! I’ve gone to the doctor, been on meds, checked my house for gas and have even had family members come look at the worms and they are very very real. My mum didn’t seem to think they were screaming and seemed pretty excited about them, actually. It was really weird. She normally hates worms. But my dad agreed with me that they were screaming. If you know what this is about, I could really use some advice. I’m so tired of this, and this morning I woke up with worms on my face. I just can’t take it any longer. Sorry about formating issues. Mobile.

Basil stared at the post for another long moment, his heart beating faster in his chest. No, this wasn’t right. And this couldn’t be real, especially since there were no other posts on the guy’s account since this one. People lie on Reddit all the time. It was fine. He was going to be fine. He’d just have to try some of those worm away recipes and this would all go away. Yeah. That was it.

………………………………….

Basil woke up on Sunday with something crawling over his face.

He bolted upright, flinging two worms off and into his sheets.

He screamed, scrabbling back away from them and spilled out of bed.

“That’s it! I’m done with this place!” he declared, running to his closet and grabbing handfuls of clothes so violently that some of the hangers broke. “I’m getting out of here! Never coming back.” He’d have a realtor sell the place for him and he’d crash at a new work friend’s place until he could get set up in an apartment.

He turned to grab his backpack, only to drop it as worms overflowed out of it at the disturbance, writhing and screaming.

He turned and made for the door, squashing worms under his heels and slipping on their broken bodies.

The door was jammed, and he screamed out in frustration and fear, slipping back through the worms to get to his phone.

He brushed the pile of worms off of his phone and tried to turn it on, only to find it unresponsive as slime leaked out of the charging port.

Desperately, he turned, trying to find some sort of escape, but the worms were everywhere and seemed to be penning him into the corner.

“This can’t be happening,” he whispered to himself, backing up and dropping is phone, watching as it was engulfed in worms.

“Oh, but it is.”

The demonic voice from his dream was less demonic now, and somewhat familiar.

The worms stopped and turned their searching heads in unison towards the bedside table.

On top of the lamp sat a particularly large and grotesque worm.

“Hello, Basil.”

Basil stared at it for a long moment. “You’re… you can talk? Worms can talk?”

“Oh, don’t be so dense, Basil. Remember me? It really hasn’t been that long.”

“I don’t know what-”

He was cut off as some sort of command went through the lesser worms from the worm on his lamp and they pushed him back, crawling up him faster than he thought physically possible, pushing into his mouth and down his throat, slowly suffocating him. He tried to fight back, but the worms held him there, pushing back as though they were all strands of tissue in a set of powerful muscles.

“Now, now, Basil. You really were much better when you didn’t talk so much.”

Basil’s eyes widened as he finally realized what, or rather, who was talking to him.

Jane. His ex girlfriend. But what in the world was going on here? Why was she a worm? He didn’t understand a single thing going on here, and it scared him. He was terrified as he tried to cough the worms out. He had to fight to keep breathing even as sweat poured down his neck and his adrenaline spiked, a ringing in his ears almost drowning out Jane’s next words.

“Do you remember, Basil, what our fight was about? The one we broke up over?”

The fat worm undulated, moving like a worm belly dancer.

Basil tried to shake his head, gagging against the worms so hard he saw stars.

“I asked you a simple question, and you couldn’t answer me. Remember?”

Basil couldn’t hardly think, but it came back to him. That night, devastated by his mother’s death he had gone to Jane. He had come to her apartment looking for some comfort, but she had pestered him about him missing another one of the football games she loved going to at the college. She had complained that he didn’t make time for him, and she had gotten a strange look in her eye as she asked, “Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

Cold panic settled in all of Basil’s nerves as that realization only brought up more questions, and he sensed more malice rolling off of the Jane worm.

“You failed the test, sweetheart,” she said, sickly sweet. “And now you pay the price.”

Basil couldn’t even scream as the worms flowed into his lungs and stomach, bursting his organs from the inside.

Pain consumed him, writhing deep within him, blood pooling everywhere. He was dying! He couldn’t breath and he was dying!

Jane’s laughter echoed through the old house as his legs gave out and the press of worms broke his ribs, a distant sensation as death approached, cold and quiet in the face of the slimy stir of worms and Jane’s laughter. He was glad when it took him.

………………………………….

Detective Mulberry slouched his way out of his car, making his way up the stairs to his house. He had seen things today that he never wanted to see again. A young man, dead through unknown causes, bloated with something that could not be pried out, surrounded in dead worms. He shuddered, trying not to imagine what the young man had been up to.

He was greeted by his wife, who saw the look on his face and reached out, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “Bad day?” Delia asked.

He nodded with a shuddering sigh. Unbeknownst to both of them, a fat slimy body freed itself from under the detective’s collar and slipped into Delia’s clothing.

The detective pulled back and sighed heavily. “This job, Delia. I’m aging years at a time, I swear. After this case I’m taking time off. We should go somewhere else. Where did you say you wanted to go on vacation to?”

Delia’s face lit up and she said, “I would love to go to Brazil! Oh! I am so excited, though it is depressing that this is only coming about because your job has stressed you out so much. When should we go, so I can get time off from my job?”

The detective sat down on the couch and sighed. “I’m not sure yet. I’ll figure out the details tomorrow.”

He slid off his coat as his wife sat down next to him, patting his hand. “Alright, dear. That sounds wonderful. What would you like to eat tonight? I can take care of it.”

“Oh, no, it’s my turn to make dinner. I don’t want you to-”

“You’ve had a rough day,” she said firmly. “I will handle it.”

“Oh, alright. I was planning on making spaghetti if you want to make that.”

“Sounds like a plan. Are you okay to do without the meatballs.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Maybe I should just come in and help you warm up some vegetables or something.”

“Oh no,” Delia said, pushing him deeper into the couch before standing up. “You stay right there. I will handle it.”

She had almost left the living room when she paused for a moment, scratching at her ear.

She turned slowly, a strange look on her face as she tilted her head at her husband. She smiled and asked, “Honey?”

“Yes?” he replied, peeling off his shoes and socks.

“Would you love me if I was a worm?”

The End

[sugar-cook]

Hey! I did a reading of @dycefic's "A Future For Christmas". (https://www.tumblr.com/dycefic/671442147637100544/a-future-for-christmas?source=share)

Feel free to have a listen; thank you Dycefic for the wonderful short story!

[lunaefall]

Faruzan and the Anemo Friend Death Theory

I'm just thinking about how she must have gotten out of the puzzle she was trapped in and immediately had to face the fact that she'd been trapped for a hundred years. Meaning her friends and loved ones were dead of old age. Being hit by that info must have really been hard.

[d-e-w-p]

Let Us

I do not wish to fear Death. I shall not run when it comes my time. But before that time:

Let us sit on a park bench and discuss things. Let us talk of the weather, and the migrating of the geese. Of the women playing rugby in the field across the road.

Let us go for a drive. In silence, with soft music, a gentle amble down country lanes. Let us fly with the windows rolled down, speed rip racing and roaring gas guzzling and laughing with the radio blared loudloudloud.

Let us walk at night, just Itself and I, beneath streetlights both beacon and broken. Let me ask my questions of the when (when it is time) the how (however it shall be) and the why (a great amorphous shrug).

Let me point a questioning hand to a man, face down in the gutter, and see It Nod and do it's Work. Let me point at a child at play, brow raised in askance, and receive no answer.

Let me point to the moon, to the sun, to the stars and all beyond.

And hear and see and feel and know It:

To You, One Day.

To I, Long Ago

And to hold no fear, to not flee or fight should it coax me closer. To allow it's steady weight upon my shoulder, familiar to me as the expansion of my lungs.

Let us go together not as predator and prey. Not as enemies.

Let us go as the old friends we are.

Into whatever Happens Next

[deansawthetvglow]

rocking chair

[treety-of-the-ents]

The last line feels very hopeful. “Graves grow no green that you can use. Remember, green’s your color. You are spring.” I don’t believe in any afterlife, so I won’t opt out of this one unless there is no possibility of it getting better.

graves grow no green that you can use.

gwendolyn brooks

[bamsara]

Clearing out all the concept scene doodles I've made the last couple months, here's this possible scene(s) for Trod au later

This is during the pre-Shamura / sleeping in the same room part of the timeline so far. My Lamb doesn't like having their neck touched (save for someone) and Narinder knows that.

They are best friends again here but also they are incredibly stupid

[windows-dial-up-sound]

Epic the musical where everything is the same except he just fucking. Keeps the baby. Carries it around in a sling. Fights monsters with a baby on his back. Sorry Circe can you chill with the sex stuff, there's a toddler present. Eurylochus you're shouting "Captain" too loud and you'll wake the baby. Hey do you guys think Penelope will mind if I bring back a baby from war? Give Telemachus a little brother, you know?

[kathaynesart]

REPLICA PLAYLIST

MUSIC UNDER CUT

I have been receiving requests for any songs that inspired Replica, so here, have my personal playlist. Sorry it’s not Spotify/Soundcloud but they don’t have some of these songs available so uh… guess you’re stuck with YouTube vids. For fun I'll include my personal titles for them (which might give a few hints of what to expect in the future/end).

Replica Main Theme - “Die for You” by Grabbitz Like Father Like Son Like Brother (Omega and Shelldon) - "As Above So Below" by Alistair Lindsay Mikey's Theme / The 1st Vision - "Suzume no Tojimari" by Nanoka Hara Military (Mad) Dogs / Central Park Colony - "Imperium" by Madeon Shanghai - "Icarus" by Madeon Boom Goes the Donnie-mite (Mikey/Donnie vs the Sweeper) - "The Red Zone" by Mitsuoto Suzuki The Day the Sky Bled Red - "7 Seconds Till the End" by Nobuo Uematsu Going Out Like a Boss (Raph and Leo) - "Agape" by Nicholas Britell Remembering the Right Way (Mikey and Leo) - "The Souls of Many" - by Alistair Lindsay Mystic Hands / The 2nd Vision - "Am I Dreaming" by Metro Boomin x A$AP Book 2 Trailer - "Sea Dragon" by Covet 7 Years Later - "Iron" by Woodkid Leo's Theme / Attack on the Labor Camp - "Ego Death" by Polyphia Omega's Theme - "Touch" by Daft Punk Flat Lines (Omega Alone) - "Die Toteninsel Emptiness" by 1000 Eyes Spear - "Monsters" by Tommee Profitt Final Protocol - "The Kraken" by Katie Dey Rise / Epilogue - "Close in the Distance" by Masayoshi Soken & Tom Mills

I will admit, it's a little embarrassing since you can easily see the patterns of what I've been listening to for the past year or two. I swear I listen to more than just videogame OSTs, these songs just jive well with the story and I often find lyrics distracting when brainstorming scenes. Regardless, the music I listen to is such an important part of my creative process and some of these songs really defined the scenes I now have locked in my head. So I figured it was only fair to give them the credit they're due.

I will continue to add to this playlist, and will note in comic updates when one of these songs is applicable!

[shepscapades]

[Pt 1] [Pt 2] [Pt 3] [Pt 4] [Pt 5] [Pt 6] [PART 7] [Don’t Let it Reach the Heart]

Nobody Anymore Nobody Anymore

[This comic is part of my dbhc au, following the chaos and panic that ensues after Doc and Xisuma try to get Etho back online at the start of s9 after a very rough s8 finale that leaves him a little. broken. It's set to the vibes of Joywave's Destruction. This part concludes this comic, but this moment doesn't end here: Don't Let it Reach the Heart will be the title of the fic that will follow the end of Destruction!]

[doe-prince]

Now finished below!

[obsessedobsesser]

Okay but can we talk about how Carla Sunday said "It's The Beast" when responding to what the shadowy figure surrounding the TARDIS was.

And then... the voice playing Sutekh was actually "The Beast" in The Satan's Pit & The Impossible Planet.

Which was the vibes I was getting as soon as Harriet started being possessed and speaking.

God, I missed Doctor Who.

[willowser]

once you and katsuki discover you're expecting, you agree to keep it to yourselves for a little while.

you can't hide forever, but you want the chance to bask in the excitement of what's to come, together, away from outside eyes prying in. and you do: there's an immediate difference in the way you touch each other, how often, with katsuki even shifting coverage for patrol just so he can cling to your side for an extra day or two. it's like a honeymoon, almost, and you take the time to enjoy it like one.

but of course he wants to tell his parents as soon as he can, though he doesn't outright admit it; as soon as you start pushing the boundary of your waistband, he finds time in his schedule to see his dad—and then mitsuki makes time for him to see her.

katsuki tells toshinori next, who becomes quite emotional at the sight of your ultrasound, which in turn makes katsuki surprisingly emotional, too. there's much that they say and even more that they don't, but it's all communicated, regardless.

and lastly—he has to tell his nerd-ass friends.

it happens on one of their bi-monthly outings—that katsuki has consecutively been skipping for a little while, for obvious reasons. and it's like the minute he sits down in his seat and orders his food and one beer, everything he'd planned to say dissolves in his head.

despite wanting to keep quiet, he's been trying to plot out his announcement to these exact shit heads since the moment you found out. it's just so personal, and even after everything, katsuki's still discovering how to share those parts of his life with others, still coming to terms with the fact that he wants to.

he'd considered doing it slowly, rather than all at once in front of all of them, but he very quickly realized how terrible of a plan that was; deku would not physically be able to contain such knowledge in his body for any period of time, kirishima is a notorious fucking gossip, and if shouto had given him some kind of shit ass, wrinkled-nose look, he would have had to howitzer him through a building.

so he just says it, because he's never really been one for subtlety.

right after everyone's received their food and started to take their first bites, denki makes a point to ask,

"how's things with your honeybun, kacchan?"

and normally he'd have a fit at the nickname, but instead he hears bun and feels his stomach flip like it does when he remembers, when silly little things remind him of what the two of you have made together, and into his food, he simply says,

"we're havin' a baby."

the expected silence falls over all of them, save for the scaping of utensils against katsuki's bowl. he's damn good at feigning nonchalance, but food is getting stuck in his throat and his heart is beating so hard that he can hear it deep in his eardrums. of course he knows, but it dawns on him again, how overrun he is with excitement.

across the table, denki takes his turn to speak again. "you're...what?"

and then the whole room is erupting into a mass of chaos, moving in pieces like a riot of unrefined children, and even though he's being hounded with a million questions and being shaken around by his shoulders and some of these assholes are crying—katsuki graces them all with a big, fat grin.

[loudclan-clangen]

Loudclan - Moon 29: Part 3

Things are gonna get a bit darker than they have been in the second half of this moon. Be warned and check the tags! Happy Spooky Season!

The sun is ever-present in the summer sky. It sits vigil alongside the clan. Soon after the bodies arrive at camp a patrol sets out to track the rogues, but finding that they have already crossed Shadedclan's territory, it is decided that the opportunity for revenge has passed. They'll double patrols and wait to see if the murders try to cross the territory on their way home. Many are upset, but few argue. As the sky begins to lose it's duskiness, the vigil is ended, the bodies buried, and the clan cats left to filter back into camp at their own pace. Wildfirecry excuses himself to clear his head, while Dancepaw attempts to bridge the gap with the only brother he has left.

Seeing Rosehiptree will be left alone in the burial place, Songpaw decides to stay for a while.

It takes Wildfirecry three days to find the farm cats.

There are Forestclan traditions that were never passed on to Loudclan. Rites that were deemed too dark to touch the newborn clan and thus were cast aside. But here, miles past the valley territories, they live on.

Wildfirecry returns to Loudclan's camp a week after the vigil having lost two lives. No one questions where he has been. The scent of rancid dried blood still lingers despite a fresh coat of oil, and his wounds, while closed, are unmistakably fresh. The clan returns to an uneasy normalcy.

[Whoo! I did it! This moon was INCREDIBLY hard for me. The first part relies so much on my dialogue skills, which, is the part of comic-making that comes least easily to me, and the second part is super experimental, which was so much fun, but also mentally tiring. (On that note please let me know if it's like impossible to see. I meant for it to be a bit difficult to make out, but it's hard to gage between my ipad and my laptop whether it will be readable for all of you. I can fiddle with the color grading tomorrow if necessary.) And finally, Rosehip's experience here is really, really close to my heart. That means that her scenes here are ones that I really wanted to write, but also that I had to take a couple of breaks to make sure that I wasn't wearing myself down too much, so sorry that it took longer than I thought and I haven't been able to answer as many asks as I had hoped to. Anyway, despite early difficulty I had a GREAT time finishing this moon up and I'm happy with how it turned out! Songpaw and Rosehiptree are keeping the trauma dump to best friends pipeline alive and I love them for it. Erminekit is kinda being a brat but he really just wants to be there for his best friend and everyone is getting in the way! He doesn't really get the concept of "giving someone space". As far as Moon 30 I have a science class that I'd like to get finished by the end of the month, so it will probably be a minute. Hope you guys enjoy!]

First Moon

Next Moon

[crescentfool]

reunion 🌸

[bamsara]

suggestive narilamb doodles, mainly memes/shitposts. some of this is not trod au canon and/or out-of-context on the timeline. Part 1/?