#i like that color.... the.. weird..... diluted dark blue.. blue grey

[birdgenetics]

This just in! What I learned today:

I was doing some reading on cat genetics and I learned female mammals undergo X chromosome inactivation! In each of their cells they randomly inactivate one X chromosome to prevent overexpression of the X chromosome. That's how you get the magnificent tortie cat. In some pigment cells the Orange chromosome is active and in the others the black is active.

So that made me wonder, do male birds (with the ZZ sex chromosome arrangement) do Z chromosome inactivation to prevent overexpression of the Z chromosome? Sexlinked colors do seem to work differently in birds.

And I discovered, NO! This really does explain a lot.

Take Sex-linked Dilution, for example.

Female geese have one Z allele so they have one copy of the dilution, therefore, they are a slightly lighter gray than wild type and have a little white.

Heterozygous male geese have a copy of the dilution and a copy of wild type. Since they have one dilution allele like the female geese, they are the color of the female geese.

But Homozygous males have a double expression. They have two copies of the dilution and they are mostly white with a little bit of light grey.

You see the same in faded pigeons. Hemizygous females and heterozygous males are the same color, Homozygous males are lighter.

In barred chickens the same thing, dark hemizygous females and heterozygous males, light homozygous males.

But before you get too comfortable there is a twist.

There is another goose gene that is so rare I forgot to show a photo of it in my last post where I said I showed all possible goose alleles. (Actually, I believe it might not actually be all that rare and might just be the "weird swan goose white" I mentioned.)

Aqua Discovered by Snyder's Waterfowl.

Hemizygous females and homozygous males are white. Heterozygous males have this blue spotted color.

A more common example would be ash red pigeons. Hemizygous females and homozygous males are ash red but heterozygous males are mostly ash red with a few blue/black flecks.

Why is it like this? Incomplete dominance, I guess wild type and white want to battle it out, I honestly don't know.

And of course recessive sexlinked genes like Chocolate or Dilute pigeons need the bird to be hemi or homozygous to express. It really makes me curious about what other genes are sexlinked in mammals and birds and how they looked.

[amber-tortoiseshell]

this has haunted me ever since my mother first mentioned it but a friend of hers decades ago had a red tabby who allegedly gave birth to a litter of 3, but based on what little i know about cat genetics the litter's colors seemed weird, would love to hear the thoughts of someone who knows more abt this stuff tho

so the red tabby had 3 kittens, a grey n white one, a black n white one and a tabby with dark stripes (my mother described it as brown but after asking more abt the color of the stripes i'm guessing it was a black tabby?) and we have no clue who the father(or fathers) could be

(ps love your blog, singlehandedly kept my interest in cat genetics going this long)

Thanks!

Well yes, this does sounds strange. Let's see what we can say:

If she really was a red tabby, the mother cat's genotype is A_ D_ OO ww (we only need these four genes for this).

The kittens:

grey and white: aa dd oo/o- wsw

black and white: aa D_ oo/o- wsw

black/brown tabby: A_ D_ oo/o- ww

This tells us the mother carried both nonagouti and dilute, and the father also had these alleles plus white spotting. (Or at least one parent had it - people sometimes don't add the white to the description of a cat if it's quite low grade.)

mother: Aa Dd OO ww

father: _a _d _- ws_

The problem is, as you said, the red. From a red mother in theory every kitten inherits the red allele, so they only can be reds or tortoiseshells.

The most pausible explanation is that the mother was actually a tortie - sometimes, rarely, it can happen that a tortoiseshell almost exclusively shows only one of her colors. These cats are called secret torties. The genetic background of this phenomenon is sadly unknown; i think it can be caused by a very weird x-inactivation pattern, or maybe due to chimerism: the skin cells come from a different embryo than the germlines.

A similar story from the cat genetics facebook group:

The only remaining thing i can say about the father is that if there was any females among the kittens, he likely was something black based (black, black tabby, blue, ect). If they were all males, then the genotype fraction above is all.

[k-idol-moodboards]

yuto, kino, wooseok & their trans nb bf for anon! -e (do not remove caption)

[daphne-fandom-writing]

Bored (Silco x Reader)

Warnings: This is shameless gay smut. 

Notes: I’ve been absent so long but Arcane inspired me so much and my friend really needed some Male Reader in his life. So yeah, Male Reader x Silco.

I will be working on the Vander x Female reader next. 

Word count: 3.1K

How he managed to get himself in this position is a memory he thinks he lost. It’s weird how that happens. Your brain decides that some memories are better lost than remembered and you’ll never know if it’s right. 

He doesn’t remember how he got here but what he doesn’t know either is if he’s going to get out of it. 

The room is lighter than he remembers it to be. It’s still filled with a thick smell of cigar. The light coming through the window is diluted by the swirls of smoke that circle around the room, it has the same green haze as the rest of Zaun. To his left is a futon. The bright red it used to be has been discolored over the years to a darker, brownish color. There is a painting slightly above the futon. The painting is an unusually calm scene. It pictures a scene of nature with colors that looked like they used to be bright blue and greens. Time hadn’t done the painting any good, the colors as desaturated as looked in the rest of Zaun. Right in front of him on the far end middle of the room there is a desk. The only decoration is a lamp shining a weak yellow glow onto the table and papers laying on top of it. There are far more details in the room but all he is focussed on is the chair behind the desk. The back of it is facing him, old cracked leather lining the chair. Smoke swirls from the other side of the chair, coming from the man he dreaded to see today. The reason he was here. His boss. The eye of Zaun. Silco. 

When the chair finally turned around the most feared man of Zaun came into his view. He could see his face as clear as day. It’s been long since he saw his boss, orders mostly coming from others. He looks as intimidating as he remembers. The icy blue of Silco’s right eye is a stark contrast to the fiery red of the other. His dark hair perfectly slicked back as it always was. The only difference he could spot was the increase in grey hairs along the side of his face. 

Many of the people in Zaun would flinch at the sight of Silco’s face, he understood why. Silco is an intimidating man but it had never been the appearance that made him feel like that. It’s knowing what his boss had done over the years and the many people that had lost their lives because of it. But even through all that he never feared him as much as his fellow citizens did. That might be his undoing today. 

“Please, sit.” The dead silence was interrupted by the raspy voice of the man by the window. The man summoned by him looks around the room, uneasy, until he picks the futon to sit on. It’s softer than he expected it to be, it was comfortable. It might be the only comfortable thing about this whole situation. “I assume you have no clue why you’re here?” 

He looks up from the wooden plank he was staring at on the floor. He tries to hide his surprise. “I-” He clears a rasp from his throat. “Ahem, no sir, I don’t.”

As much as he tries to hide it he knows the older man picked up on the microexpressions on his face. Silco takes a long drag of his cigar. The bud lighting up his face with an eerie orange glow for a minute. The younger man’s thoughts are rocketing through his brain as Silco takes his time in- and exhaling the cloud of chemicals. After the last bit of smoke has left his lungs he puts out his cigar on the ashtray, a faint shadow of a smirk appearing on his face as he takes in the younger man in front of him. 

“I’ve regretted that we’ve never had the opportunity to speak.” He pushes off from the table in front of him when he stands up. Silco was never unusually tall but he always commands a room when he stands up. The slender man is slightly hunched over when he stalks over to the couch the younger one was sitting on. Silco takes a seat next to him on the far end of the futon. The man could feel the fabric dip underneath the weight of him. Silco turns his head to look at him and leans in only a little. 

“Never knew we had pretty employees like you.” He sits back against the fabric behind his back. The older man’s eyes never leave the face of the other, it unnerves him. He could see the blue and red eye scan over his face, it took a lot of backbone for him to not look away. It was not just the body language that unnerved him. The comment, made to seem very nonchalant, surprised him. He would be lying if he didn’t like the danger that was dripping off of this situation but it still took all of his courage to actually speak up. 

“Why am I here?” He could hear the man across from him let out a low moan of satisfaction. 

“And a voice just as sweet.” The older man says while he eyes the other up and down. “To put it simple, I’m bored.” 

Bored? The man’s eyebrows furrow together while he tries to comprehend what was just said to him. It was hard to imagine that a man of his position could get bored, ever. He forgets his own position and speaks up. 

“Bored? You of all people are bored? If that’s the case, how in the hell am I going to help you with that.” 

He regrets his every decision the moment Silco tilts his head, thinking he’s in for it now. But he chuckles. He’s, amused? The younger man feels like his heart is about to beat out of his chest. A wicked smile appears on Silco’s face. He reaches over and tilts the younger man’s head up with his index finger. 

“You have everything I need to help me with that, my boy.” Silco let’s the chin of the other man go and sits back against the futon again. His legs are spread and the man can’t help but sneak a look at what's between them, there’s a sizable bulge showing through the worn trousers. He finally understands what the dark haired man means to use him for. He’s surprised, yes, but what concerns him most is the growing bulge in his own pants. Silco seems to notice too as his eyes flicker down for a moment. 

“Why don’t you climb up, see if you like the seat.” He could still back out, stand up and walk away. There is a reason Silco let him sit closest to the door, so he could have a choice. But he doesn’t need to. He wants to do this. As disturbing as it might be to some. 

So he does, he straddles the most dangerous man in Zaun. Makes the man look up to him. He sits with his knees next to Silco’s thighs, his own thighs resting on Silco’s upper legs. Silco put his hands on the waist of the younger man, tight but not bruising. The man takes a few deep breaths to calm his heart rate which hasn’t gone down since he walked into the room. He looks down at the buttons that hold Silco’s vest closed. His own hands are on his thighs, not knowing what to do with them. 

Silco’s right hand starts to wander, sliding from his waist to rub the top of his thighs. The sensation sends shivers through his body. The older man speaks again. 

“You can touch me.” He’s glad that Silco said that. His hands move from his thighs to slide over Silco’s torso, moving from his stomach upwards all the way to his chest and then his neck. He feels the surprisingly soft fabric glide underneath his hands. Silco moves forward, close to the skin on the man’s neck. He could feel his breath on his skin and felt the goosebumps appearing. He tilted his head back when Silco’s mouth connected with his skin. He planted open mouth kisses on his skin, the younger could feel his tongue licking into the kisses. 

The younger man moved his right hand to cup the face of the older man. The right side of his face. Silco moved back in a blur he held the hand of the other man in a death grip inches from his face. He looks at the younger man with fury in his eyes but he doesn’t try to pull his hand away. And slowly Silco softens his grip on the other man’s wrist and lets his hand move closer to his cheek. Silco leans into the hand that is cupping his left cheek. He’s not used to the gentle touch on that side of his face and likes it more than he thought he would. He looks into the eyes of the man holding his face and sees no disgust or fear. He leans in and presses his lips to the younger man’s. 

This gentle show of affection quickly turns into something much more heated. Their lips move together to assert dominance and control which the younger man lets Silco have. One of Silco’s hands moves into his hair, his slender fingers finding a lock to pull his head back. As he pulls the lock the man moves his head back along with the finger while letting out a moan when Silco attaches his lips to his neck and starts sucking again. The hands of the other man move from the back of Silco’s neck to slide underneath his vest and shirt, feeling the muscles move underneath his fingers. He can feel Silco’s mouth suck his neck, he knows it’s gonna leave some marks. 

Silco unlatches himself from the man’s neck and leans back a little to lift the shirt he was wearing. After his shirt was off the younger man undos the buttons on Silco’s vest and shirt underneath revealing a pale slim chest. He runs his fingers over Silco’s chest as Silco himself takes in the state of the man on top. 

The man bends down to kiss along Silco’s neck and works his way down until he is kneeled on the floor between Silco’s spread legs. His fingers unbutton the tented trousers and slide them, along with his underwear, down his legs when Silco lifts his hips. The older man’s cock springs free against his stomach with precum already leaking from the tip. Silco throws his head back when the man, now below him, takes his cock into his warm hand. He drags his thumb over the head to slick his dry hand with the precum. Silco takes in a sharp breath when the man starts slowly pumping his hand along his cock, applying pressure in just the right places. 

He is dying to see the dangerous man crumble beneath him. He leans down to lick a stripe along the base of Silco’s cock before taking the head in his mouth. He lightly sucks on the hard skin in his mouth, feeling Silco grabbing his hair and applying pressure to push his head down. He obliges. He bobs his head up and down, hollowing out his cheeks as he goes. He can hear the man holding his hair speed up his breathing and the grip tightening on top of his head. When he looks up he is taken aback by the look on Silco’s face. He can only see part of it since his head is slightly tilted backwards but what he could see made his own cock twitch in his pants. Silco’s left eye is shut tight while the other is pointed up to the ceiling. The sight sends shivers through his body. He moved his own free hand from Silco’s bare thigh to palm himself through his pants. As soon as his hand connected to the prominent bulge he moaned around Silco’s cock. 

Silco himself couldn’t keep a grunt from escaping his well managed composure. When he felt the other man moan around his flesh his eyes snapped to look down at him. The sight of his cock deep in the throat of the man and the way his eyes were watering with effort could have made him finish in a heartbeat. Instead he pulled the man off of his cock with an obscene wet sound. Strings of saliva connected them until they fell on the floor beneath them. 

“Up.” Silco ordered the man. They were both breathing heavily, the sounds of their breaths filling the otherwise quiet room. 

The man obliged and before he could climb back on Silco’s lap he was interrupted. 

“Off. Take them off.” Silco gestured to the pants of the man. He did not let himself get told twice and unbuttoned them. He slid them down together with his underwear and kicked them away, he would find them later when he cared. His own cock was now exposed to the air around them, the firm body part standing proud. 

Silco grabbed one of the man’s hands and pulled him closer until he straddled him again. 

“Why don’t you open yourself up nicely for me boy.” Silco pulled the hand he was still holding until it was right in front of his face. He closed his lips around the index finger of the hand, swirling his tongue around it to wet it properly. When he pulled it from his mouth again the man wasted no second. He reached behind him, keeping his balance with his other hand on Silco’s thigh and Silco’s arm around his waist. He circled his finger a few times before pushing the finger past the rim. 

The sensation of his own finger in his ass combined with Silco’s hand pumping his cock and his mouth kissing and sucking all over his chest made it hard to keep a moan from sneaking it’s way out. Silco smirked when he heard the sound. 

“Don’t keep quiet for me. I want to hear you.” Silco started pumping his hand up and down faster while the man added a second finger, and then a third. The man just began thrusting into Silco’s hand when he pulled it away. Silco grabbed the man’s chin with his thumb and index finger and pulled him closer until his mouth was next to the man’s ear. 

“Think you’re ready for the actual thing?” Silco mused in his ear. He moaned at the thought of finally being filled. 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Somewhere in the sensations he missed Silco lathering himself up with a slippery substance. He pulled his fingers out of his hole and mourned their absence. Silco gave one of his buttcheeks a small slap to indicate that he had to lift up. He lifted himself up a bit and scooted forward so Silco’s cock was lined up with his hole. 

One of Silco’s hands was on the man’s hip, guiding him down as the other held his cock in position. The man’s mouth fell open as he felt himself being filled to the brim. Silco groaned as the man took all of his cock inside. Tight and warm. 

When the man was fully seated on Silco’s cock he stayed like that for a minute to get adjusted to something breaching his hole. When he felt like it was okay to move, he did. He slowly started moving up and down, feeling Silco’s cock slide in and out of him. His ass burned from the stretch at first but this feeling turned into something very enjoyable very fast. Silco was guiding the man’s hips with his hand, pulling him down harder than he would have done himself. One of the man’s own hands was in his hair brushing back the sweaty strands that were starting to stick to his forehead. The other was leaning on the armrest of the futon, helping him to push himself up when his leg muscles get sore. 

The man moans when he feels Silco hit his prostate. He moans again when he looks down at Silco. The man once armoured with a steady resolve looked absolutely ravaged. He was letting out soft groans when the man would slide down on his cock. His left eye was closed and his lips were slightly agape. His hair, usually neatly combed back, was sticking to his forehead with some loose strands on the side of his head.

Both the man and Silco are quickly reaching their highs. The thighs of the man are now barely able to hold up his weight, let alone lift him. Silco seemed to notice. In a swift motion the younger man was now on his back on the futon, Silco still buried deep inside but now hovering over him. Silco maneuvers the legs of the man up and over his shoulders as he picks up the pace and ramming into him. He feels Silco’s cock repeatedly hit his prostate and moans out his name. 

“That’s right.” Silco pants. “Let me hear you.” Silco put one of his hands on the younger man’s own leaking member. He starts pumping it in time with his own thrusts to deepen the sensation and to get the man to reach the same high. The man is steadily increasing his volume when he moans, utting words that don’t make sense or can’t be understood at all. 

“I-” he moans “I’m cumming.” Silco pumps his hand faster and picks up the pace of his thrusts. 

Silco’s own hips start stuttering with imminent release. “That’s it boy, cum for daddy.”

The man lets out his loudest moans yet, cumming all over Silco’s hand and his own stomach in spurts. Silco himself groans as he pushes in deep one more time. He still inside the man when he cums, the warm liquid filling the insides of the man. The man feels limp, all his strength sucked out by his pleasure. They’re panting. The man whimpers when Silco pulls out and drops back onto the futon. He reaches into a small cupboard and pulls out a cigar and ashtray. He looks at the man beside him leaking with his own cum. 

“I knew there was a reason I kept you around.” 

He lights his cigar. He takes a deep breath of the chemicals, his heartrate slowly getting back to normal. The younger man would surely cure his boredom. 

[the-uptake]

Abdications of Flesh

The Uptake, With Symbiotic Self-Indulgence. Book III, Chapter 1. Chapter 2 MIA; go to next available chapter.

TW: Drug culture, police brutality, dysmorphia

Disconnection became the peristaltic pulse of Tri-City in the wake of the permanent quarantine. The ghosts of the Stalkers’ Quarter reached out and up from the imposing hundred-yard walls which confined it, a glaring neon Wolfram concrete warning to anyone who might wonder what might lay within an entryless barrier. In mere months, the supersaturation of public guilt left citizens complacent to a shared commiseration that it had to be done, that there was no other way; and in the wake of dispassionate transgressions, came a vast and opportunistic multitude of nepenthe. City laws evolved rapidly to meet the needs–and demands–of the masses. Everyone nursed their own personal set of vices. 24-hour liquor stores and bars bloomed up overnight, and over time other more creative maladaptive indulgences became equally commonplace.

Suddenly, more than any other point in the history of their lives, everyone wanted to be anyone but themselves. Industry could adapt. Industry could provide.

‘Choly and Cecil walked down a Level 12 street in the commercial district, the smooth and simplistic concrete facades along the entire strip swathed in advertisements projected upon their every surface. Romantic strands of Valentine’s Day decor still lingered in places. ‘Choly wore a salmon dress shirt under an oversize mint green sweater with black pants and mint green creepers, with large green gauge tunnels and his bangtails loose to either side of his bespectacled face. Cecil seemed to have tried to coordinate this, with a pale pink button-up shirt and dark grey pants both with cuffs rolled, thin black suspenders, and two-tone oxford boots.

“It’s not too dissimilar to our great city’s thriving cannabinoid market.” ‘Choly’s cane gait punctuated his wry lyric. “There’s fewer and fewer plants every day, but I guess agriculture knows the ones that’re most important to hold onto.”

“It’s not really a plant, though.” Cecil was the first to catch sight of where they were headed, and went ahead a bit to get to the neon pink door first. “It’s more of a fungus, I think. Made from fungus, anyway?”

“From what I hear…” ‘Choly came along far more slowly, and only continued once he’d closed the distance between him and his boyfriend. “…From what I hear, it’s made from a lot of things. Augen tells me this might just be what breaks the ban on Vekarix, that nobody will admit that’s what made Confec possible. The designer drug market is havin’ a hey day over genetically engineering hybrid magic mushrooms an’ shit. Swear, next thing we’ll hear, they’ll have put every known psychoactive living thing together in one organism, an’ we’ll be begging to take turns licking it.”

“Maybe they’ll finally come around to letting people continue splicing legally.” Cecil shot him a sarcastic grin as he held the door to a shop open for him. “If he’s right about the Vekarix, we might eventually see more and more diverse hybrids.”

‘Choly sniffed and side-eyed him as he stepped inside the small shop.

“People are… bound to do a lot of things in this desperate climate, whether or not it’s legal. Legality dilutes innovation, but definitely makes it easier access.”

Three other customers browsed as the pair entered. Glass display counters ran the entire track of the long narrow space, filled with racks of colorful shapes in a presentation not unlike a pastry shop. The wolf hybrid shopkeeper had her long electric blue hair pulled back over the crown of her head and braided tight. Her claws matched, and she wore a wide-strapped and very low-cut tailored white jumpsuit. ‘Choly barely kept himself from making comment on the coincidence.

“They make me think of chocolates.” ‘Choly stooped a bit just to admire the molded things. Many of the ones in that particular case had been marbled with several colors in one. He caught sight of the price tags and his face drooped.

“It’s more like soap, if you want to be honest.” The shopkeeper approached them and ran a paw over her hair. The door buzzed shut again, and suddenly it was just the three of them. “I take it you gentlemen are gloss virgins? You’ve made a great choice to pop in here for your first time. We grow and refine our product ourselves. Everything on display is hand crafted.”

Stiffly, Cecil put his hands in his pockets and tried not to make eye contact.

“With neither of us really having experience with it, can you… recommend anything?”

“Well, if you’re just looking for glossy, the best place to start is one of our truffles. They’re not too bitter, and the high is pretty mellow and smooth-transitioning.” She gestured to the case with trays of milky white spheres, then next to it at the case ‘Choly had been eyeing, filled with little rainbow colored cube shapes. “And bonbons have a sharper flavor, but they take faster.”

‘Choly hemmed a bit.

“…An’ what about the hardest thing you’ve got?”

She held a breath against the roof of her mouth and let it out of her snout with a grin. She motioned for them to follow her to the back counter, where she rounded it to lean her elbows on it.

“Of course, we have more potent preps, too. You’re in luck to come in now, really. We just got in some new stuff, if you want to be cutting edge with your first time.” She pointed down to the finger-size amber screw-top ampules lined up to one side of the display. “Distilled Confec. The confectioner calls it resin, and I can say from personal experience you won’t regret it. It’s a composite-gloss, a cultivar custom-crafted by him.” She winked at Cecil, who swallowed hard and stood straighter. “My ears piqued when you mentioned Vek on your way in. Confec is great and all, but resin? It’s absolutely a food of the gods. The hardest entheogen I’ve ever had, and believe me when I call myself a connoisseur from personal experience.”

‘Choly eyed the counter, then looked up to the shopkeep.

“How much?”

“One vial’s forty-five. About twenty hits. It’s potent stuff. Only takes a drop or two, really.” She sneer-flinched and laughed. “Recommend the trope take for it, soaking it into a sugar cube. It’s real bitter.”

“You sure you need it?” Quietly, Cecil chewed at his spider bites. “As opposed to the Confec, I mean? We came here to get a handle on your anxiety, not go crazy.”

When Cecil continued to skirt the shopkeeper’s attempts at eye contact, she crossed her arms at him.

“Resin’s totally safe, if that’s your worry. But anxiety, though? If that’s what you’re here for, you’re more likely gonna want burfee. It’s got a veneer more than a gloss.” She pointed to the counter to their right, full of chalky pastel balls. “Cultivar’s got borrowed cannabis sequences. Takes the edge off everything, without inducing a full trip.”

“We can start with Confec,” ‘Choly resigned, gaze tracing the items in that case. “I was expecting a high price tag, but the resin’s a bit rich for my ah,” he leaned in nearer, “my Level Zero upbringing, if you get my meaning.”

After a moment she also leaned in even closer, and barked a laugh.

“I understand now why you need a little escapism, dreg. You got moxie keepin’ the ‘do. I know just looking at him that he’s not, though, so what’s his story? He weird around all hybrids? I’ve been tagged and documented, as if it matters.”

“You’ve got extraction scars.” Cecil tried his best not to fluster as he pointed tersely at his own ear for emphasis, keeping to a near-whisper. “Tagged, past tense. Talk about moxie.”

Her shoulders froze up when he called her out on it.

“Hum, I didn’t notice,” ‘Choly commented in a thoughtful detachment. His head tilted askew as he inspected the wolf girl’s right ear. Near the lower base, it crumpled in on itself a bit. “No wonder he’s crushing on you.”

“Tch!” Cecil removed his glasses and rubbed at his face.

“He likes hybrids,” ‘Choly continued, enjoying embarrassing him. “We both think you’re pretty cute, any rate.”

“Oh really now?” Her ears piqued and her eyelids drooped.

“…Very,” Cecil admitted. He put his glasses back on and fished out his wallet, stuffing down his social misery. “How much is the, uh, the burfee?”

“It’s twenty-five for half a dozen of one cultivar, but we’ve got a special this month, for a variety half-dozen for nineteen. Since you’re having trouble making up your minds, perhaps a sampler would help you feel out what’s up your alley. And…” She held a lyric to her tone when the pair of them looked in agreement finally. “I suppose I could toss in an amp of Resin if you give me a kiss on the cheek.”

The flush that washed across Cecil’s face lit up every faint freckle in a constellation of awkwardness, and he smirked before leaning across the counter and complying. He sneaked a brief rub of her cauliflower ear while he was at it, then pulled back to admire her, still holding out a cred. She blepped pleasantly at him as she took the cred to run it on the register screen.

“I totally didn’t think he’d do it,” ‘Choly mumbled, trying not to laugh.

“Me either.” She handed the cred back and lolled her pierced tongue in full at Cecil. “You’re not, like, a hybrid chaser or something, are you? Most normies can’t tell that my ear’s not just, like, a piercing deformity.” Her muzzle slacked. “Sorry, that was in poor taste of me. I forget some people went through with the therapy.”

Cecil’s only response, after a pause, was to wink at her. She shuffled over to unlock the display case and prepare the small cardstock box with what they’d purchased.

“Name’s Dee, by the way.” She popped the earned trinket in the corner of the box and twined it up, then handed the parcel to Cecil. “Maybe you’ll come see me again sometime.”

“Cecil. Dee, it’s been a pleasure.”

“Seconded,” ‘Choly chirped. His awkward flashing of a rigid, short hand wave and interjection of his own name got a chuckle from Dee.

“Hope it’s the escape you came in for.”

Once the two had exited the confectionery shop, Cecil continued carrying the purchase.

“Why’d you technically lie to Dee, anyway?” ‘Choly smiled at his boyfriend. “You never had any work done to have reversed.”

“Chalk it up to the stress of being ribbed over thinking she had spunk.”

The dreg choke-laughed at this, and ran a few free fingers over Cecil’s hand, eliciting a sly withdrawn smile.

They stopped briefly at a corner store for cheap premade coffee, and ‘Choly held the box while Cecil filled up two cups and paid for them. The dreg plopped down the Confec on the counter of the cramped coffee area of the establishment and took the weight off his legs for a spell against the wall, then pulled out his reader to burn a couple of minutes. He decided to snap a nondescript, contextualized pic of his acquisition and send it to Augen; even though the vampire’s availability was dimmed, he’d see the message later.

ketherphorbia sent a file SDC43011_100-5102.JPG.

ketherphorbia: mission successful

9augen is typing…

ketherphorbia: oh, hi

ketherphorbia: i’ve got good timing. didn’t think you’d be on

9augen has stopped typing.

9augen: please tell me youll be home soon. no one else is responding

ketherphorbia: need to talk?

9augen: its. sensitive. youll be home soon right

ketherphorbia: yeah, the confectioner’s we went to’s only one level up. is five minutes ok?

9augen: Yeah.

“Telling him about our adventure?”

Cecil returned and offered one of the syrofoam cups, and ‘Choly traded him the box for it, so that Cecil carried the Confec and one coffee, and ‘Choly carried the other with his free hand.

“I was about to. He’s being vague. In an urgent way. It bugs me.”

“I’m sure he just wants to trade juicies. Come on, let’s get going.”

The two each waved their public transit passes as they entered the toll lift, and cuddled against the back wall on the way one level down. Although this one cost a third-cred per level to ride one way, the nearest free lift was five blocks further away, and this toll lift let out on the same block as their housing complex. They exited and rounded the corner right into the lobby of the complex, and took the building elevator three floors to their apartment. While Cecil got the door, ‘Choly’s reader began to vibrate from receiving a vid chat, and he nearly dropped his coffee fumbling to double check that it was coming from the expected caller.

“You’re so slaggin’ impatient,” ‘Choly whined as he accepted with hesitation.

The screen was black, but he could hear labored breathing. Once inside their apartment, ‘Choly squinted at the display of his reader to see it indicated ‘no video’ and he sighed with an eye roll, suspecting that his friend had something ridiculous to reveal.

“Sorry,” the other end mustered, strangled and adenoidal. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared right now, ‘Choly.”

The foreign quality of the voice got the dreg’s attention immediately, and with a knitted brow, he quickly toed out of his creepers at the door and took his coffee to the daybed-couch in the back end of the apartment. The confec went to the side table beside the coffee on its coaster. Cecil watched ‘Choly trying to get comfortable, and offered a bold, blocky quilt and a knee-pat, but he wasn’t sure if he was invited to the call, so he took to the front end of the apartment to the confines of his book-nook, assuming he’d be fetched to join in if they so desired it. Either way, he’d hear about it later.

“You certainly don’t sound like yourself.” ‘Choly cleared his throat, hair on end. “What’d you get into, anyway?”

A long, labored pause lingered when the caller couldn’t form the words.

“…Augen…?”

“My coven got hit. They’re doing therapy raids now. Fucking Open Carry Manifesto! Fuck, it hurts so bad to talk. Can’t hardly see straight.” It took ‘Choly a while to understand what Augen had described, and a hand went to the dreg’s mouth as he stared at the blank screen. “You heard about the OCM, right. I’m not just a rambling lunatic right now?”

“I heard it was just civilian access to tranq, ‘cause Levelers are scared of the hybrids that kept their grafting. But fuck, Augen! Are you suggesting there’s a paramilitary force using it to force therapy serum? Since when did the government have the right!” He whipped off his glasses, nearly crying as everything set in. “–Oh fuck. Fuck. Are you all right? Of course you’re not all right. Fuck. –Where are you? Do we need to come get–”

“Shhhhhh. Take it down about fifteen notches. My head’s a thunderstorm right now. …One question at a time, maybe. Ugh. …First, no, the government doesn’t have the right. Best I can understand, this is a splinter of police, or army nuts, overstepping laws for sake of upholding moral code. They screamed out something like cleaning out a murderer’s den before they just unloaded on us.”

‘Choly was unaccustomed to hearing his friend talk this much at once, and the context as to why a fish had the breath to do so had his head reeling.

“But you got away, right? You’re not still at the, the coven?”

“I got away, yeah. Christ, this fucking sucks. They overdosed us on that shit, I guarantee you. Therapy’s supposed to be incremental–sessions–not abrupt like… THIS! Where’d they get that much serum? Must have a therapy physician in on their group. Sheisse. I’m the only one who’s got a possibility of springing back from this… Good chance the shock just killed a few of us outright. Grafting’s so goddamn expensive, even just solo-sequence jobs. Getting the procedure that gave people their real identities, for a lot of them it was their life savings. …Or someone else’s.”

‘Choly set down his glasses and his cataracted eyes zoned out into the blackness of the vid screen. He’d never seen his friend’s face before the grafting, and his curiosity went haywire. Briefly, he barely kept himself from asking aloud for Augen to show him what he looked like. 'Choly wondered if Augen would ever be comfortable enough to meet in person ever again. But, he trusted ‘Choly enough to voice call him like this, and he’d never done that before his grafting, either. The dreg laid down on the couch on his side, and pulled the quilt over himself.

“What I want to know is how they found where you guys were lying low. It’s not like you were being tasteless about it and lurking a geek bar or some shit. Vampires, your kind’s not stupid. …Wait, what do you mean, or someone else’s?”

“I fell off the grid after my grafting for a lot of reasons. Linnaeus’s circle works a lot like a cult. They scout for vulnerable people. People already ideologically charged and unlikely to have a change of faith even when tested. And those who either have lots of money, or have access to lots of money. Most of my coven fit that bill three-for-three, to be realistic. They were… most supportive of getting the money through whatever means possible. I sold my car. Sold pretty much everything. But it wasn’t enough. I knew how to get into my parents’ retirement savings, and I knew that money would only go to waste perpetuating their uninspired, horridly humanesque lives. And I knew they’d have nothing to do with me, the real me, so there was only one real resolution to that moral conflict. …If I got caught like this, where I’m recognizable for what I was before I was myself… I don’t think I’d do well in jail. And that’s just for the theft, what can be accounted to my birth name…”

“You… you said it was an overdose of serum,” ‘Choly reached, desperate to find something that might lift his friend’s spirits. “And you said there’s a chance you’ll spring back? You’re talking about your marine graft, right?”

A pleasant breath was all he heard for a while.

“I’d say it feels like reckless optimism to grapple onto what it is at its core, but Vek is a metagen by definition. Therapy serum is basically a human-DNA graft job, an attempt to flush out the animal grafts. They told me during my follow-up sessions that subsequent grafting jobs would never stick, thanks to the tunicate graft, and not to waste my cred. I was just rambling when I said it, but maybe you’re right. Maybe the tunicate will recognize the… virus, and kick it for me. I’d get to experience becoming myself all over again. …Thanks. Sometimes, you know just what to say. At the very least, if gives me something pleasant to focus on while this shit wears off.”

“Can I… Can I ask a bad question?” ‘Choly’s words strangled himself.

“Yes, my reader is working fine. Yes, I have vid off on purpose. No, I haven’t had the nerve to do front-facing camera yet, and there’s not a mirror here. If the answer wasn’t one of these, then what were you going to ask me? Otherwise, you know the answer.”

‘Choly swallowed and gave him an exhausted smile.

“Where are you?”

Augen wasn’t sure he’d heard him right and laughed like broken silver.

“I’m not even wholly sure how to tell you where it is. It used to be an automotive repair, going off what’s left in here, and off what it smells like. I think… it specialized in cars from back when it was all by tread. If th– When things go back to normal, I’m inclined to feel out how secure it is. It strikes me as a good place to make more… permanent than just hiding in.”

“It’ll more than go back to normal,” ‘Choly grinned. “I guarantee it.”

“I just remembered, you sent me a pic of your prize earlier. My moment of weakness has kept you from indulging. You’ve got the right idea, honestly. I’m lucky. I picked up an amp of Resin last night, and I was five minutes from taking a hit before… everything happened. It’s, like, hyper-Confec. I’ll have to let you try some next time we get together. But for now, this amp’s all for me. I… I think I can end call finally. I just can’t be… this right now.”

“You’ve earned it.”

“Enjoy your evening, bug dick.”

“You, too, stinkface. I’ll have my phone near me if you need me, all right?”

The screen flickered a moment before Augen’s face came into focus in a strange fluorescent amber lighting that didn’t match the ambient glow of Wolfram concrete interiors. ‘Choly wasn’t sure what he expected of his friend’s human features, but the juxtaposition of how his long, dark, stringy mess of hair framed his angular, slim pierced features only magnified the haunted sense of atrophy about him, crestfallen yet still forcing a tired smile. Ostensibly, a massive part of his identity had wasted away that day. Augen could tell ‘Choly had tried to take a screencap and ended the call.

9augen: may this vid call be the last you ever see of this pathetic asshole

‘Choly sent him a mushroom emoticon and set down his reader on the arm of the couch with a dopey, self-conscious smile. Augen had been gorgeous even before undergoing the grafting procedure that transfigured him, though the dreg knew better than to ever share such a sentiment. He sat up and glanced over to the box on the side table, seeking vicariousness even in his friend’s vulnerability, and pulled it into his lap. He’d be fine. And Augen would be fine.

But first, some time needed to pass, and the last thing he wanted was to be present for it.

Go to Next Available Chapter »»»

[crown-eater]

Abdications of Flesh

[ With Symbiotic Self-Indulgence, 1. ] [ The Uptake (table of contents) ]

Man, “Maze” and “Vital Ones” need a hard overhaul after this, I swear. Establish ALL the foreshadowing Sorry in advance for how heavy this is, uh

Disconnection became the peristaltic pulse of Tri-City in the wake of the permanent quarantine. The ghosts of the Stalkers’ Quarter reached out and up from the imposing hundred-yard walls which confined it, a glaring neon Wolfram concrete warning to anyone who might wonder what might lay within an entryless barrier. In mere months, the supersaturation of public guilt left citizens complacent to a shared commiseration that it had to be done, that there was no other way; and in the wake of dispassionate transgressions, came a vast and opportunistic multitude of nepenthe. City laws evolved rapidly to meet the needs--and demands--of the masses. Everyone nursed their own personal set of vices. 24-hour liquor stores and bars bloomed up overnight, and over time other more creative maladaptive indulgences became equally commonplace.

Suddenly, more than any other point in the history of their lives, everyone wanted to be anyone but themselves. Industry could adapt. Industry could provide.

'Choly and Cecil walked down a Level 12 street in the commercial district, the smooth and simplistic concrete facades along the entire strip swathed in advertisements projected upon their every surface. Romantic strands of Valentine’s Day decor still lingered in places. ‘Choly wore a salmon dress shirt under an oversize mint green sweater with black pants and mint green creepers, with large green gauge tunnels and his bangtails loose to either side of his bespectacled face. Cecil seemed to have tried to coordinate this, with a pale pink button-up shirt and dark grey pants both with cuffs rolled, thin black suspenders, and two-tone oxford boots.

“It’s not too dissimilar to our great city’s thriving cannabinoid market.” ‘Choly’s cane gait punctuated his wry lyric. “There’s fewer and fewer plants every day, but I guess agriculture knows the ones that’re most important to hold onto.”

“It’s not really a plant, though.” Cecil was the first to catch sight of where they were headed, and went ahead a bit to get to the neon pink door first. “It’s more of a fungus, I think. Made from fungus, anyway?”

“From what I hear...” ‘Choly came along far more slowly, and only continued once he’d closed the distance between him and his boyfriend. “...From what I hear, it’s made from a lot of things. Augen tells me this might just be what breaks the ban on Vekarix, that nobody will admit that’s what made Confec possible. The designer drug market is havin’ a hey day over genetically engineering hybrid magic mushrooms an’ shit. Swear, next thing we’ll hear, they’ll have put every known psychoactive living thing together in one organism, an’ we’ll be begging to take turns licking it.”

“Maybe they’ll finally come around to letting people continue splicing legally.” Cecil shot him a sarcastic grin as he held the door to a shop open for him. “If he’s right about the Vekarix, we might eventually see more and more diverse hybrids.”

‘Choly sniffed and side-eyed him as he stepped inside the small shop.

“People are... bound to do a lot of things in this desperate climate, whether or not it’s legal. Legality dilutes innovation, but definitely makes it easier access.”

Three other customers browsed as the pair entered. Glass display counters ran the entire track of the long narrow space, filled with racks of colorful shapes in a presentation not unlike a pastry shop. The wolf hybrid shopkeeper had her long electric blue hair pulled back over the crown of her head and braided tight. Her claws matched, and she wore a wide-strapped and very low-cut tailored white jumpsuit. ‘Choly barely kept himself from making comment on the coincidence.

“They make me think of chocolates.” ‘Choly stooped a bit just to admire the molded things. Many of the ones in that particular case had been marbled with several colors in one. He caught sight of the price tags and his face drooped.

“It’s more like soap, if you want to be honest.” The shopkeeper approached them and ran a paw over her hair. The door buzzed shut again, and suddenly it was just the three of them. “I take it you gentlemen are gloss virgins? You’ve made a great choice to pop in here for your first time. We grow and refine our product ourselves. Everything on display is hand crafted.”

Stiffly, Cecil put his hands in his pockets and tried not to make eye contact.

“With neither of us really having experience with it, can you... recommend anything?”

“Well, if you’re just looking for glossy, the best place to start is one of our truffles. They’re not too bitter, and the high is pretty mellow and smooth-transitioning.” She gestured to the case with trays of milky white spheres, then next to it at the case ‘Choly had been eyeing, filled with little rainbow colored cube shapes. “And bonbons have a sharper flavor, but they take faster.”

‘Choly hemmed a bit.

“...An’ what about the hardest thing you’ve got?”

She held a breath against the roof of her mouth and let it out of her snout with a grin. She motioned for them to follow her to the back counter, where she rounded it to lean her elbows on it.

“Of course, we have more potent preps, too. You’re in luck to come in now, really. We just got in some new stuff, if you want to be cutting edge with your first time.” She pointed down to the finger-size amber screw-top ampules lined up to one side of the display. “Distilled Confec. The confectioner calls it resin, and I can say from personal experience you won’t regret it. It’s a composite-gloss, a cultivar custom-crafted by him.” She winked at Cecil, who swallowed hard and stood straighter. “My ears piqued when you mentioned Vek on your way in. Confec is great and all, but resin? It’s absolutely a food of the gods. The hardest entheogen I’ve ever had, and believe me when I call myself a connoisseur from personal experience.”

‘Choly eyed the counter, then looked up to the shopkeep.

“How much?”

“One vial’s forty-five. About twenty hits. It’s potent stuff. Only takes a drop or two, really.” She sneer-flinched and laughed. “Recommend the trope take for it, soaking it into a sugar cube. It’s real bitter.”

“You sure you need it?” Quietly, Cecil chewed at his spider bites. “As opposed to the Confec, I mean? We came here to get a handle on your anxiety, not go crazy.”

When Cecil continued to skirt the shopkeeper’s attempts at eye contact, she crossed her arms at him.

“Resin’s totally safe, if that’s your worry. But anxiety, though? If that’s what you’re here for, you’re more likely gonna want burfee. It’s got a veneer more than a gloss.” She pointed to the counter to their right, full of chalky pastel balls. “Cultivar’s got borrowed cannabis sequences. Takes the edge off everything, without inducing a full trip.”

“We can start with Confec,” ‘Choly resigned, gaze tracing the items in that case. “I was expecting a high price tag, but the resin’s a bit rich for my ah,” he leaned in nearer, “my Level Zero upbringing, if you get my meaning.”

After a moment she also leaned in even closer, and barked a laugh.

“I understand now why you need a little escapism, dreg. You got moxie keepin’ the ‘do. I know just looking at him that he’s not, though, so what’s his story? He weird around all hybrids? I’ve been tagged and documented, as if it matters.”

“You’ve got extraction scars.” Cecil tried his best not to fluster as he pointed tersely at his own ear for emphasis, keeping to a near-whisper. “Tagged, past tense. Talk about moxie.”

Her shoulders froze up when he called her out on it.

“Hum, I didn’t notice,” ‘Choly commented in a thoughtful detachment. His head tilted askew as he inspected the wolf girl’s right ear. Near the lower base, it crumpled in on itself a bit. “No wonder he’s crushing on you.”

“Tch!” Cecil removed his glasses and rubbed at his face.

“He likes hybrids,” ‘Choly continued, enjoying embarrassing him. “We both think you’re pretty cute, any rate.”

“Oh really now?” Her ears piqued and her eyelids drooped.

“...Very,” Cecil admitted. He put his glasses back on and fished out his wallet, stuffing down his social misery. “How much is the, uh, the burfee?”

“It’s twenty-five for half a dozen of one cultivar, but we’ve got a special this month, for a variety half-dozen for nineteen. Since you’re having trouble making up your minds, perhaps a sampler would help you feel out what’s up your alley. And...” She held a lyric to her tone when the pair of them looked in agreement finally. “I suppose I could toss in an amp of Resin if you give me a kiss on the cheek.”

The flush that washed across Cecil’s face lit up every faint freckle in a constellation of awkwardness, and he smirked before leaning across the counter and complying. He sneaked a brief rub of her cauliflower ear while he was at it, then pulled back to admire her, still holding out a cred. She blepped pleasantly at him as she took the cred to run it on the register screen.

“I totally didn’t think he’d do it,” ‘Choly mumbled, trying not to laugh.

“Me either.” She handed the cred back and lolled her pierced tongue in full at Cecil. “You’re not, like, a hybrid chaser or something, are you? Most normies can’t tell that my ear’s not just, like, a piercing deformity.” Her muzzle slacked. “Sorry, that was in poor taste of me. I forget some people went through with the therapy.”

Cecil’s only response, after a pause, was to wink at her. She shuffled over to unlock the display case and prepare the small cardstock box with what they’d purchased.

“Name’s Dee, by the way.” She popped the earned trinket in the corner of the box and twined it up, then handed the parcel to Cecil. “Maybe you’ll come see me again sometime.”

“Cecil. Dee, it’s been a pleasure.”

“Seconded,” ‘Choly chirped. His awkward flashing of a rigid, short hand wave and interjection of his own name got a chuckle from Dee.

“Hope it’s the escape you came in for.”

Once the two had exited the confectionery shop, Cecil continued carrying the purchase.

“Why’d you technically lie to Dee, anyway?” ‘Choly smiled at his boyfriend. “You never had any work done to have reversed.”

“Chalk it up to the stress of being ribbed over thinking she had spunk.”

The dreg choke-laughed at this, and ran a few free fingers over Cecil’s hand, eliciting a sly withdrawn smile.

They stopped briefly at a corner store for cheap premade coffee, and ‘Choly held the box while Cecil filled up two cups and paid for them. The dreg plopped down the Confec on the counter of the cramped coffee area of the establishment and took the weight off his legs for a spell against the wall, then pulled out his reader to burn a couple of minutes. He decided to snap a nondescript, contextualized pic of his acquisition and send it to Augen; even though the vampire’s availability was dimmed, he’d see the message later.

ketherphorbia sent a file SDC43011_100-5102.JPG.

ketherphorbia: mission successful

9augen is typing...

ketherphorbia: oh, hi

ketherphorbia: i’ve got good timing. didn’t think you’d be on

9augen has stopped typing.

9augen: please tell me youll be home soon. no one else is responding

ketherphorbia: need to talk?

9augen: its. sensitive. youll be home soon right

ketherphorbia: yeah, the confectioner’s we went to’s only one level up. is five minutes ok?

9augen: Yeah.

“Telling him about our adventure?”

Cecil returned and offered one of the syrofoam cups, and ‘Choly traded him the box for it, so that Cecil carried the Confec and one coffee, and ‘Choly carried the other with his free hand.

“I was about to. He’s being vague. In an urgent way. It bugs me.”

“I’m sure he just wants to trade juicies. Come on, let’s get going.”

The two each waved their public transit passes as they entered the toll lift, and cuddled against the back wall on the way one level down. Although this one cost a third-cred per level to ride one way, the nearest free lift was five blocks further away, and this toll lift let out on the same block as their housing complex. They exited and rounded the corner right into the lobby of the complex, and took the building elevator three floors to their apartment. While Cecil got the door, ‘Choly’s reader began to vibrate from receiving a vid chat, and he nearly dropped his coffee fumbling to double check that it was coming from the expected caller.

“You’re so slaggin’ impatient,” ‘Choly whined as he accepted with hesitation.

The screen was black, but he could hear labored breathing. Once inside their apartment, ‘Choly squinted at the display of his reader to see it indicated ‘no video’ and he sighed with an eye roll, suspecting that his friend had something ridiculous to reveal.

“Sorry,” the other end mustered, strangled and adenoidal. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared right now, ‘Choly.”

The foreign quality of the voice got the dreg’s attention immediately, and with a knitted brow, he quickly toed out of his creepers at the door and took his coffee to the daybed-couch in the back end of the apartment. The confec went to the side table beside the coffee on its coaster. Cecil watched ‘Choly trying to get comfortable, and offered a bold, blocky quilt and a knee-pat, but he wasn’t sure if he was invited to the call, so he took to the front end of the apartment to the confines of his book-nook, assuming he’d be fetched to join in if they so desired it. Either way, he’d hear about it later.

“You certainly don’t sound like yourself.” ‘Choly cleared his throat, hair on end. “What’d you get into, anyway?”

A long, labored pause lingered when the caller couldn’t form the words.

“...Augen...?”

“My coven got hit. They’re doing therapy raids now. Fucking Open Carry Manifesto! Fuck, it hurts so bad to talk. Can’t hardly see straight.” It took ‘Choly a while to understand what Augen had described, and a hand went to the dreg’s mouth as he stared at the blank screen. “You heard about the OCM, right. I’m not just a rambling lunatic right now?”

“I heard it was just civilian access to tranq, ‘cause Levelers are scared of the hybrids that kept their grafting. But fuck, Augen! Are you suggesting there’s a paramilitary force using it to force therapy serum? Since when did the government have the right!” He whipped off his glasses, nearly crying as everything set in. “--Oh fuck. Fuck. Are you all right? Of course you’re not all right. Fuck. --Where are you? Do we need to come get--”

“Shhhhhh. Take it down about fifteen notches. My head’s a thunderstorm right now. ...One question at a time, maybe. Ugh. ...First, no, the government doesn’t have the right. Best I can understand, this is a splinter of police, or army nuts, overstepping laws for sake of upholding moral code. They screamed out something like cleaning out a murderer’s den before they just unloaded on us.”

‘Choly was unaccustomed to hearing his friend talk this much at once, and the context as to why a fish had the breath to do so had his head reeling.

“But you got away, right? You’re not still at the, the coven?”

“I got away, yeah. Christ, this fucking sucks. They overdosed us on that shit, I guarantee you. Therapy’s supposed to be incremental--sessions--not abrupt like... THIS! Where’d they get that much serum? Must have a therapy physician in on their group. Sheisse. I’m the only one who’s got a possibility of springing back from this... Good chance the shock just killed a few of us outright. Grafting’s so goddamn expensive, even just solo-sequence jobs. Getting the procedure that gave people their real identities, for a lot of them it was their life savings. ...Or someone else’s.”

‘Choly set down his glasses and his cataracted eyes zoned out into the blackness of the vid screen. He’d never seen his friend’s face before the grafting, and his curiosity went haywire. Briefly, he barely kept himself from asking aloud for Augen to show him what he looked like. 'Choly wondered if Augen would ever be comfortable enough to meet in person ever again. But, he trusted ‘Choly enough to voice call him like this, and he’d never done that before his grafting, either. The dreg laid down on the couch on his side, and pulled the quilt over himself.

“What I want to know is how they found where you guys were lying low. It’s not like you were being tasteless about it and lurking a geek bar or some shit. Vampires, your kind’s not stupid. ...Wait, what do you mean, or someone else’s?”

“I fell off the grid after my grafting for a lot of reasons. Linnaeus’s circle works a lot like a cult. They scout for vulnerable people. People already ideologically charged and unlikely to have a change of faith even when tested. And those who either have lots of money, or have access to lots of money. Most of my coven fit that bill three-for-three, to be realistic. They were... most supportive of getting the money through whatever means possible. I sold my car. Sold pretty much everything. But it wasn’t enough. I knew how to get into my parents’ retirement savings, and I knew that money would only go to waste perpetuating their uninspired, horridly humanesque lives. And I knew they’d have nothing to do with me, the real me, so there was only one real resolution to that moral conflict. ...If I got caught like this, where I’m recognizable for what I was before I was myself... I don’t think I’d do well in jail. And that’s just for the theft, what can be accounted to my birth name...”

“You... you said it was an overdose of serum,” ‘Choly reached, desperate to find something that might lift his friend’s spirits. “And you said there’s a chance you’ll spring back? You’re talking about your marine graft, right?”

A pleasant breath was all he heard for a while.

“I’d say it feels like reckless optimism to grapple onto what it is at its core, but Vek is a metagen by definition. Therapy serum is basically a human-DNA graft job, an attempt to flush out the animal grafts. They told me during my follow-up sessions that subsequent grafting jobs would never stick, thanks to the tunicate graft, and not to waste my cred. I was just rambling when I said it, but maybe you’re right. Maybe the tunicate will recognize the... virus, and kick it for me. I’d get to experience becoming myself all over again. ...Thanks. Sometimes, you know just what to say. At the very least, if gives me something pleasant to focus on while this shit wears off.”

“Can I... Can I ask a bad question?” ‘Choly’s words strangled himself.

“Yes, my reader is working fine. Yes, I have vid off on purpose. No, I haven’t had the nerve to do front-facing camera yet, and there’s not a mirror here. If the answer wasn’t one of these, then what were you going to ask me? Otherwise, you know the answer.”

‘Choly swallowed and gave him an exhausted smile.

“Where are you?”

Augen wasn’t sure he’d heard him right and laughed like broken silver.

“I’m not even wholly sure how to tell you where it is. It used to be an automotive repair, going off what’s left in here, and off what it smells like. I think... it specialized in cars from back when it was all by tread. If th-- When things go back to normal, I’m inclined to feel out how secure it is. It strikes me as a good place to make more... permanent than just hiding in.”

“It’ll more than go back to normal,” ‘Choly grinned. “I guarantee it.”

“I just remembered, you sent me a pic of your prize earlier. My moment of weakness has kept you from indulging. You’ve got the right idea, honestly. I’m lucky. I picked up an amp of Resin last night, and I was five minutes from taking a hit before... everything happened. It’s, like, hyper-Confec. I’ll have to let you try some next time we get together. But for now, this amp’s all for me. I... I think I can end call finally. I just can’t be... this right now.”

“You’ve earned it.”

“Enjoy your evening, bug dick.”

“You, too, stinkface. I’ll have my phone near me if you need me, all right?”

The screen flickered a moment before Augen’s face came into focus in a strange fluorescent amber lighting that didn’t match the ambient glow of Wolfram concrete interiors. ‘Choly wasn’t sure what he expected of his friend’s human features, but the juxtaposition of how his long, dark, stringy mess of hair framed his angular, slim pierced features only magnified the haunted sense of atrophy about him, crestfallen yet still forcing a tired smile. Ostensibly, a massive part of his identity had wasted away that day. Augen could tell ‘Choly had tried to take a screencap and ended the call.

9augen: may this vid call be the last you ever see of this pathetic asshole

‘Choly sent him a mushroom emoticon and set down his reader on the arm of the couch with a dopey, self-conscious smile. Augen had been gorgeous even before undergoing the grafting procedure that transfigured him, though the dreg knew better than to ever share such a sentiment. He sat up and glanced over to the box on the side table, seeking vicariousness even in his friend’s vulnerability, and pulled it into his lap. He’d be fine. And Augen would be fine.

But first, some time needed to pass, and the last thing he wanted was to be present for it.

[larksinging]

summarize your roster's general aesthetics!

okay im gonna go with “things i associate with them” and not “aesthetics they pick”

mothpaw is obviously herbs, notably kind of scattered herbs. but also i associate her with soft browns and warm light, diluted things. very much... moth-y colors, obviously. everything about her aesthetic is supposed to be soft and dry. 

ivypool’s aesthetic is. well. edgy, to say the least. shes all nightmares and the dark forest and fighting and blood. lots of claws and teeth and snarling. the aesthetic of like... blood on white fur? lots of scars. but also like the crisp clarity of blue eyes, or water like the lake. if mothpaw is warm grey, ivypool is cool grey. 

maive has a red/black aesthetic, for very obvious reasons. but also fire! fire and burnt stuff is a huge part of her aesthetic. i don’t get a chance to bring it up in rp much, but fire is really symbolic for her in multiple ways. also bones to some degree. more recently, phoenix imagery has snuck into her aesthetic for... well. obvious reasons. 

maria’s aesthetic is like, fog and neon lights. it’s very SH. pink neon and plastic or leopard print, foggy lakes, broken down buildings (esp with water damage), hospitals, chokers... also mirrors and photographs. 

alessa is also, of course, Very SH. hospitals, again. broken down buildings, though this time more with a rust aesthetic. weird puzzles and keys and stuff. general gore and blood. but also... insects, notably butterflies, but all insects. the color blue! thats really important. 

veronica’s aesthetic is easy to recognize  but hard to describe? she has strong association with the color blue and 80s stuff, but also like... empty schools? hastily written notes? it’s kind of hard to describe i can visualize it but its hard to write down, you know. 

winter’s is pretty simple: arctic stuff, ice, snow. lots of ice and snow. also white (or blueish) scales. and spikes. i also like some fancy jewelry, and broken crowns. snowy mountains

nyssa is another black and red theme, but that’s from show canon and her outfit i swear. of course she’s associated with bows and arrows (she has those rad red-fletched arrows), but also... knives and daggers? she likes her blades. i try not to associate her with the kinda torchlit ancient aesthetic of the league, as a way of showing her having moved past that. also, i associate her a lot with snakes.

black siren... saying “leather and fishnets” feels too easy. she is probably the least colorful of my characters, because everyone has two colors or at least a strong primary color. laurel’s just associated with black? like e-1 laurel is at least black and yellow(ish), but black siren is just... black. and then more obvious stuff, like sound waves and other sound-based stuff. ripples. some birds, but more like... bird cages. and broken mirrors

[kattimariias]

Firestar’s Reworked Family Tree (+hc appearances) - Part 1

I’ve seen people make genetically accurate family trees since the canon ones are...kinda messy

so here’s my attempt. note that I don’t know everything about cat genetics, so there’s likely going to be a lot of mistakes. feel free to point any errors out.

i’ll start off with grandmother to grandchildren

Firestar’s side:

Crystal, Firestar’s grandmother - going with wiki descriptions (the photos sometimes aren’t accurate), she’s a ginger bicolor with blue eyes. i think there needs to be a certain amount of white for her to have blue eyes (and usually fairly big), so i’ll just go with green eyes since i’m going with a low amount of white here.

for tabby pattern, i hc her as a mackerel tabby.

Mocha, Firestar’s grandfather - in his description, he’s brown with green eyes. i’ll keep the green eyes and make him a solid chocolate (aka...brown) that’s middle in terms of tone.

Whiskers, Firestar’s uncle - described as brown and white with blue eyes. i’ve heard males only get colors from their mom, so i’m not sure whether if he stays ginger or gets chocolate from his mom because she carries the trait. either way his eyes are green.

Ferris, Firestar’s uncle - “light ginger tom with brown stripes” ....okay uhm, brown stripes can only occur with chocolate tabbies, i don’t even think it’s possible for gingers. anyways he remains the same, just with darker colored stripes

Jake, Firestar’s dad - he’s pretty much a firestar clone...hah. since i hate the “character looks like a clone of parent” cliche, i just went with a heavy resemblance, similar coat color (jake is a bit darker), eye color, and build (jake is chubbier), but jake is a mackerel tabby unlike nutmeg. he has a bit of white inherited from his mom.

he also carries black (again, from his mom).

Nutmeg, Firestar’s mom - she’s brown and white in the books, but i went with her being a black torbico (torbie with white) so Firestar can be ginger. she’s also a ticked tabby and keeps her hazel eyes (why does she have green eyes on the wiki photo, i don’t understand...)

Princess, Firestar’s sister - light brown and white in the books, here i went with her being a black tabby bicolor so she can keep the brown coat color (to clear confusion, black tabbies are cats that are genetically black, but have a brown coat color and black stripes)

Firestar - pretty much the same as the book description, though he’s more of a bright ginger than outright flame colored. he’s a ticked tabby for cool stylizing purposes

Quince, Firestar’s...honestly idk, family terms confuse me - has a similar appearance to her description, grey with amber eyes, but she also has a bit of white

Socks, Firestar’s half brother - probably has a smaller degree of white compared to his description, but remains the same. his eye color is never said, but i hc him with amber eyes.

Ruby, Firestar’s half sister - description says she’s grey, but due to having a black based mom and a ginger dad, she’s a calico. keeps her amber eyes.

Scourge, Firestar’s half brother - instead of blue eyes, i hc him with green eyes similar to firestar’s. as, y’know, a hint to them being half siblings. also he has more white than just on his left paw. i also hc him with having a blue collar since that works well with his color palette.

instead of having dog teeth on his collar, he wears a simple spiked collar.

Sandstorm’s side:

Brindleface, Sandstorm’s mom - she’s pale gray in the books, but she would need to be either a dilute tortoiseshell or outright cream. i haven’t decided yet tho. (i’ll likely go with diluted tortoiseshell for reasons i’ll explain later)

for tabby, i see her as classic

Redtail, Sandstorm’s dad - a tortoiseshell in the books, but male tortoiseshells are extremely rare and would likely be born ill, so either redtail is a chimera or he’s trans.

another option is him simply being ginger and white, but like brindleface i’m not sure what to go with here.

i hc him as a classic tabby as well

Sandstorm - pale ginger tabby in the books, and since cream cats are basically washed out gingers, i’ll go with cream.

course, she’s a classic tabby

Kits:

Squirrelflight - mostly keeps her book description, except without white (unless i go with redtail and sandstorm being ginger and white). she’s also a ticked tabby

Leafpool - similar to book description, except she’s a black ticked tabby. she gets it from both of her parents, who carry black from their parents (or rather it was hidden under the ginger fur...genetics are weird). also has no white

Grandchildren:

Lionblaze - similar to book description...except not golden brown, just bright ginger and ticked tabby

Hollyleaf - black ticked torbie instead of solid black (i kinda like this appearance better tbh, perhaps the ginger on her coat is subtle? idk if that’s possible)

Jayfeather - either ginger ticked tabby or grey ticked tabby, he could be grey since leafpool and crowfeather carry grey (either one of crowfeather’s parents are grey i think, and leafpool carries the grey trait thanks to her mom, who carries it from brindleface’s...this is why i’m conflicted)

Alderheart - remains the same, just brighter

Sparkpelt - like Alderheart, not much to change here

Dandelionkit - went undescribed, but i see hc as a black ticked tabby

Juniperkit - also has no description, but i hc him as a ginger ticked tabby

Hollytuft - book description says she’s a black molly, but with her dad being a ginger and her mom being black, she’d likely be a ticked torbie or solid black still. (i lean towards torbie since that still keeps the hollyleaf reference)

Fernsong - pretty similar to book description, since yellow is a term used for bright gingers

Sorrelstripe - she’s dark brown in the books...well i haven’t got the extended family down yet to know if this is possible, so i’ll go with her being a black tabby

Extra:

Bramblestar - black classic tabby, gets the black from his mom (whose a tortoiseshell, will be explained further in part 2) and his dad

Crowfeather - solid black like the books, not much to say here

Cinderheart - black silver/smoke, doesn’t have any tabby markings unlike the books (unless she’s a charcoal bengal, but i’m not gonna go into that yet)

[catoftheclans23]

Weird Werecat Warriors Fanfic 3

Oh I do love Splashwing though he’s the POV I’m least familiar with.  I had so much fun writing this one and I like this bit quite a lot.

“Where do you keep sneaking off to?” Splashpaw heard his mother cry out.   He knew it meant his father was finally back home.  He looked at his grey tabby and white fur in the mirror, blinked his mother's blue eyes, and opened the door.   As he walked down the hall, he heard his father's response, “Jeeze, Mosscloud, all I did was go on border patrol!” Mosscloud, the parent that Splashpaw looked like, yelled at the the tom,  “Before dawn?  Honestly, Hawkfrost, I don't know what to make of you anymore!” Splashpaw stood at the entrance of the kitchen.   “Oh, shut up, all you ever do to serve the clan is play in the nursery!” She was appalled,  “The nursery is arguably the most important part of camp!” He sneered, “Arguably.” She growled at him, “What is wrong with you?” He shrugged, “I just have better ways to serve the clan.” “Better?  I love kits!  I would have more if you'd let me!” she told him. He cast her a glance, then reached into the fridge, “I never meant to have kits with you.” It hurt, but it wasn't the first time Splashpaw had heard it.  He knew his father had not wanted him at first.   Clearly, Mosscloud was also hurt.  The parents had not noticed their son yet, and so he decided to burst between them and mewl, “Mosscloud, Hawkfrost, I have my final assessment today!” Hawkfrost smiled and meowed, “Perform well!” Mosscloud sighed, “That's all you have to say to him?” Blinking his frosty blue eyes, Hawkfrost asked with confusion, “What should I say?” She threw her hands into the air, “Oh I don't know, maybe tell him you're proud of him!” “I'm proud of all of them!” Hawkfrost insisted, referring to Splashpaw's brother and sister. The clan cheered their names. “Shadepool!  Briartangle! Splashwing!” Yet Splashwing did not feel so happy.   He looked over his shoulder.  Hawkfrost was watching intently, but was he glad to see his sons and daughter a warrior?  Or was he judging them?  Was every move a mistake in father's eyes? “And tonight,” Leopardstar declared, “all three of our new warriors will attend the gathering!” Splashwing smiled, the gathering would be good.  His aunt, Leopardnose, was quite fond of him he felt, and so was her son, Duskpaw.   Shadepool, a white and black, golden-eyed tom, grabbed his brother and their dark brown tabby-and-white sister.  Her green eyes glimmered.   Splashwing smiled at them, and for a moment, everything was all right. Splashwing and Hawkfrost stood near each other, at the edge of the island.  It was not long before ThunderClan arrived.  Duskpaw, a lightly-framed pale ginger tabby tom with amber eyes, ran to Splashwing and excitedly called out, “Hey guess what!” “What?” Splashwing almost as excitedly replied. The smaller tom pulled a device from his pocket, “I finally have a phone!” “That's awesome!” Splashwing pulled his own out and they exchanged numbers. When the new warrior looked up he was very surprised.   “Leopardnose,” he meowed and then, “Tigerstar?”  He had rarely seen his grandfather.   As soon as he spoke the name, he regretted it.  Gazes cast at the tall, strong tabby tom.  He shifted but not with unease.   Hawkfrost flicked his hand at his son, “Splashwing!” And Splashwing frowned, “I'm sorry!  I didn't-,” but he was interrupted. Duskpaw looked at his cousin with eyes wide as the sun, “Splashwing?” Splashwing nodded, “Yeah, I'm a warrior now.” “That's amazing!” Duskpaw jumped with joy. But Splashwing was still sorry.  He heard whispers around them, all asking why a prisoner was among them. Tigerstar noticed and told his grandson, “It is fine, they would have noticed eventually.” Splashwing repeated the words in his head. Leopardnose hugged her younger brother and sighed, “So much has happened.”   He squeezed her back.  Splashwing knew his father and Duskpaw's mother were very close.   They chattered a bit, the five of them, before the gathering began.  Once the leaders were on the platform in the Great Oak, all fell silent.   Splashwing nervously waited and when his name was declared he gave a weak smile.  Hawkfrost patted the new warrior on the back and Splashwing glanced at him, offering more strength to his grin. And then, ThunderClan.  Splashwing wasn't sure his opinion of Firestar, but he seemed a decent werecat.  The flame-colored tom announced that a warrior named Rainwhisker had died. Duskpaw glanced at his mother and whispered to Splashwing, “That was my dad.” Splashwing felt awful for the young tom, “Oh no!  I'm so sorry!” Duskpaw nodded, “Leopardnose is still very upset about it.” Splashwing saw both Tigerstar and Hawkfrost were offering support to the tabby-tortoiseshell.  She suddenly seemed weak and more helpless than wounded prey. Firestar's voice rang about a new litter.  But Splashwing didn't notice.  Instead, he saw his aunt regain composure, almost as if the pain hadn't happened, and she called out, “Isn't he going to mention Redflower?” Duskpaw yelled out, “Yeah, what about Redflower?” Cats began talking, the name spread like wildfire.   Firestar almost looked defeated.  He gave in, as the other leaders eyed him curiously, and said, “Redflower is no longer with us.” Cats seemed surprised, a few gasped.   Leopardnose spoke loudly, “And the note!” For a moment, Splashwing was sure Firestar was glaring at her.   “Redflower left a...” he paused, swallowed, and said, “A suicide note.  She has not yet been found.  Her kits have been adopted by Squirrelflight and Brambleclaw.” Splashwing looked back, expecting Leopardnose to say something again.  Instead, his father was gaping.  “Is it true?” he insisted, his glasses sliding down a bit, “Is she dead?” Leopardnose shrugged and softly, so much so that Splashwing almost didn't hear, murmured, “We shall see.” “What a crazy gathering!” Briartangle meowed.  She and Shadepool were eating the meal their mother had prepared for them while they were gone. “Splashwing,” she gently said to him. He looked up, their brilliant blue eyes meeting. She tilted her head, “Why aren't you eating your snack?” He sighed, toyed with the fish a bit, and looked back to her.   A word wasn't spoken, but she embraced her last-born kit.   The other littermates noticed.   “What's going on?” Briartangle sweetly questioned. Splashwing shrugged, “I don't know.” He went to bed earlier than they did.   A message came through on his phone.  Duskpaw.  It read: 'Wanna know where our parents go at night?' Splashwing blinked curiously at his phone.  He knew that Hawkfrost went out at night.  But Leopardnose?   He texted back: 'Why do you ask?' Duskpaw immediately responded: 'They're leaving tonight; I hear Leopardnose and Tigerstar going.' Tigerstar too?  What was this? Splashwing felt a great deal of excitement surge through him: 'I'll be there!' He rolled out of bed and walked in the dark, with only the soft glow of his phone to guide him, to the door. “What?” he heard Shadepool grumble. “Bathroom!” Splashwing said and then rushed out.   As he passed the doorways that led to his parents' rooms, he noticed the one to Hawkfrost's was open.  He wasn't there. Splashwing found Duskpaw bundled up a little ways from his home.  They lived along the outskirts of the ThunderClan homes.   The cousins pulled close, their breath billowing, and they enthusiastically greeted. And then, they  were on their way.   They walked with their mouths slightly ajar.   Hawkfrost was an easy scent to pick out, but Leopardnose and Tigerstar were there too, as well as a few others.   They walked through the territory where the rogues lived,  and came to a place right where that territory met the humans'.   “Why are they here?” Splashwing asked as they neared a pub. “Only one way to find out!” Duskpaw declared. Splashwing put his hand on Dukspaw's shoulder. “We can't go in there; we're underage!” “You're a warrior now!” Duskpaw argued.   And so, they continued to the door.  They walked in and immediately were turned away. “Get out of here, kids.” the barkeep barked.   Splashwing was ready to turn around, tail tucked, and head home.  But Duskpaw grabbed his cousin's wrist and held him at the counter. “He's an adult,” Duskpaw insisted. The man rolled his brown eyes, and pointed at the door, “He's sixteen and you're twelve, now get out!” What did those numbrs mean?  Splashwing wasn't sure.  But he knew he wasn't welcome here. He squeaked, “My dad and my cousin's mom are here.” Duskpaw spat, “Splaswhing!” And he quickly added, “And our grandfather too!” The human eyed them and stroked his long and bushy chin-fur.  Finally he called out, “Take these two to the forest cats, but no drinks or smokes for either!” A scantily-clad female human guided them to a door that was cracked open, but not enough to see inside.  Splashwing could barely scent his family members and a few others from ThunderCLan. She knocked on the wall, and then opened the door, waved the cousins in. Splashwing saw Tigerstar across the room, sitting at a round table.  To his left was Leopardnose and her daughter, Mossmask.  To his right was Hawkfrost.  Beside Hawkfrost was a fluffy red she-cat, and to the left of Mossmask, a grey spotted tom.  Between those two were several empty seats.   “What are you two doing here?” Leopardnose scolded them.   Splashwing had never received a negative reaction from his aunt before, and instantly felt guilty.  “I'm sorry....” But Duskpaw slammed his fists on the table, causing the mugs of drinks to clank.  “I'm not sorry, I demand an explanation!” Tigerstar let out a mrrow of laughter before saying, “I like your spirit, Duskpaw.”   And Splashwing's mouth fell agape.  Duskpaw had earned their grandfather's praise, just like that! “I think if they can keep a secret, we may as well tell them,” Mossmask meowed with a beautiful voice; it matched her gorgeous dilute calico self.  She was not a thin one, but had their grandfather's frame, and yet.... “I agree,” Tigerstar declared. Duskpaw straightened, “We can keep a secret!”  He then glanced at Splashwing and corrected himself, “Well, I can!” Splashwing spoke in a rushed voice, “I can too!” Hawkfrost pushed his drink across the table, it slid to the edge and the tom meowed, “Give it a try.” So Splashwing did.  He picked up the half-empty mug and held it to his muzzle.  His sipped at the foul-tasting stuff, wrinkled his nose and shut his eyes tight as he swallowed.  He placed the beverage down and his tongue stuck out without him realizing it.   Hawkfrost sighed, “I don't know that we can trust any who can't handle some drink.” Leopardnose rolled her eyes, “I don't think we should judge our kits that way. “So,” Mossmask spoke again, “About killing Firestar?” And Splashing was stunned, “You're going to kill Firestar?” Hawkfrost pressed his free hand—the other was holding a cigarette—against his forehead.   Splashwing realized his father was embarrassed, embarrassed about him!   “I'm sorry,” he began. Hawkfrost muttered, “Don't be sorry, just keep your mouth shut!” And Splashwing saw Tigerstar giving him a certain look, a warning glance perhaps.  The elder tom appeared threatening for the first time Splashwing had noticed it.  Yet, he said nothing.