#i think its like mold/slimy

[small-spark-of-light]

MORE WHITEBOARD if you cant tell i really like infectat

also

[allwormdiet]

@yugonostalgia2019 Heehee your lb is really fun to read! This is extra funny to me bc on my first Worm read I HATED coil almost as much as you, but when i reread it he grew on me like very slimy mold haha. Fun things to notice: Leviathan seemed to be targeting Coil's base & the Travelers - perhaps the reason for coming to BB entirely? Second - remember how arc 7 Taylor goes on a paranoid rant about how conflict & shit always seems to go down at lunchtime? Notice how Coil asks Dinah about problems before lunchtime & drops his realities then? Not a coincidence :)))

Oh also want to self-indulgently talk about Coil's biggest personality trait/flaw: Hypocrisy. You noticed during the interlude & his speeches that he seems pretty self aware - he knows he's a bad person who enjoys torturing people, wanting power for his own sake right? But he has a self-assuredness too, that he views himself as a good employer, one who provides for his underlings & makes them want to work for him. A very stratch-your/mine-back mentality. Except… what happens when there's someone too valuable a subordinate & too dangerous independent? And if there's nothing Coil can offer them? What can he provide a middle schooler with decent parents to make her want to work for him?? Nothing. So, the mask comes off, the good employer self-image vanishes, & all that's left is power-hungry cruelty……

There's so many things about Coil that make me despise him, not least of which is the way he's an absolute goddamn creep about Dinah, but even if I didn't know that about him I think the foundation of the character, the thing that sends me into a gnashing fury, it's that he's uncool.

Coil is a goddamn criminal mastermind, a supervillain whose organization is held by everyone in the know to be one of the Top Three big dogs in Brockton Bay's underworld, and he doesn't even seem to have his mercenaries committing that many crimes out in the open. I actually don't even know why he's on the books as a supervillain, what crimes he's got on his head that put him in the same caliber as Lung and Kaiser and standing head and shoulders above the Merchants, or whether it's just the resources at his beck and call. He's ambitious, scheming, ruthless, with an air of sophistication. He's got a power that, while limited in certain ways, can be monstrously effective with careful planning.

...But then we get a good look at him and it turns out that all his grand ambitions are for petty greed, cruelty, and an obsession with control, an obsession he can't even blame on being a parahuman because his power is store-bought. His sophistication is a facade, he's incautious the moment it doesn't involve a threat of direct harm to himself. He has no guiding principles, he has no patience or loyalty or humility or anything that could be considered a redeeming feature.

Also, man has no taste and no passion. His costume is weird and he doesn't even bother coming up with a name for his organization, there's no aesthetic flair within a single inch of his soldiers' uniforms or in his underground lair. He's like if a box of bran flake cereal could defraud the stock market and was creepy about middle schoolers.

Like it feels almost even more insulting to me because I love the shit out of criminal mastermind types, I love the plotter in the shadows who pulls the strings and crushes their enemies without even being exposed, I have like multiple OCs who pull that kind of shit and one of them is even a supervillain. It's like catnip for me.

So I guess if we want to extend the simile, Coil is like if I went in for catnip and caught a mouthful of bleach, and also the bleach locked a child in its basement.

(Disclaimer: my stance on Coil in no way reflects how I feel about people who actually like him. If you get a kick out of this guy, that's fine, I don't get it but that's not for me to get, I just want to bite down on him as hard as I can and shake until his bones snap)

[wulvercazz]

Creepy Sights💀

Finally, an actual continuation to the Haunted Forest :>cc (Previous)

cw- light horror, gore and guts, monsters, terato (+ necrophilia, insects), corpses in general

Thirteen’s not exactly sure what they expected from a heavily haunted forest; the mold was quite a surprise… to say the least. Even as Chromo fades into the background, all worried thick brows and unsure legs tip-tapping about on the dying grass before bursting him away from the edge of the forest, their heart thumps with excitement and perhaps a drop of healthy fear. They clutch the wisp lantern tight to avoid anymore incidences, mold or otherwise. If the rest of the creatures living in this barren land are anything like the mold sprites, then this light source is their best friend. Dry, gray-looking, plants crunch under their feet the deeper they go into the forest; roots snapping off dead trees and mold shimmying away from the light as they make way into what starts to look like a dusty, forgotten town. The memory of pretty homes and welcoming venues covered in ash and blurred by fog that grows thicker the farther they get into town. Shadows much larger than a mold sprite running past them far into their peripheral vision, breaking the pattern of crooked trunks and foggy empty space with what appeared like gangly limbs and putrid smells. Thirteen sees many horrors and curiosities before they ever meet someone they can actually have a conversation with. Moving corpses fucking other, less alive, corpses. Plenty of giant insects that might have looked their way in hunger if they weren’t feasting already on a horrid gut soup of their own making; laying eggs on the nastiest parts not even they cared for eating. Plenty of meat-eating creatures here must be scavengers, now that they think about it; Thirteen doesn’t care to think about where most of the corpses came from, but they’re plenty. Plenty enough to be a reliable food source. Reliable enough that they’re spooked by a small pack of large, funny-looking creatures. Long, running, legs, paws like a canine and long swooshy tails that floofed up the ashes up into the foggy air; all topped up by a skinless skull for a head. Thirteen stared in wonder, light kept low toward the ground but not enough to leave them blind; in case the creatures got too protective of their stinky rotten meal. They stared back in curiosity, their empty eye-sockets pointing their way like they could actually see them; only to clean their teeth with slimy blue tongues and continue crunching on the goopy-covered bones. Thirteen’s legs never stopped itching even after such a mild interaction; and with good reason. A five meter high thing creeping up behind them over the dry branches with what looked like a ribcage in it’s disgusting hand, its dislocated jaw hanging even lower to create a horrifying screech that has their legs speeding away on their own accord. Rushing through the trees with their heart beating up inside their ears, and only stopping when the creature’s call fades into the distance. Their body drops against a crooked tree, shaking all over as they pant with relief; it’s a surprisingly sturdy one too. Most of these dead trunks look hollow, like they could be blown away by the weakest wind. Curiosity has Thirteen’s attention turned to the new cool thing, their body jumping back when they meet an animal skull face to face; seemingly embedded into the tree’s hefty trunk. A mild, bluish glow right in it’s branchy, creepy, center, making them step right back in to see the thing closer. “They’re beautiful even when so miserably dead, aren’t they?” A gentle voice startles them right back off the odd tree; “Aching Heart, is what my people call them,... called them.” The stranger explains; and Thirteen is captivated by the beginning of this story, and the way this guy looks so jarringly out of place.

I love drawing creepy monsters ;w;<33

[charleslee-valentine]

♪ Now when I'm very good, and do as I am told I'm Mama's little angel and Daddy says I'm good as gold

And when I'm naughty and answer back and sass I'm Mama's little devil, and Daddy says I've got the brass. ♪

- What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? (1962)

~~~~

Fic word count: ~1,600

Warnings: Detailed depictions of child abuse (mental, medical, and physical,) canonical mistreatment of the Sinclair twins, the highchair/restraints being used on Bo, panic attack, near asphyxia, fear of death, smoking, psychological torment, weaponized love, Trudy and Victor Sinclair being horrible parents, childhood mental illness, all hurt no comfort.

~~~~

“Don’t you love your brother, Beauregard?!”

Does he?

Vincent is sitting in his big boy chair in the corner. His hair is parted neatly down the middle, smoothed by Mama’s doting hands and a lipsticked kiss. There’s no mask on his face today. His last one melted.

The brat left in the window where the sun could get it too long.

Not that it’s his fault actually. If the Doc didn’t insist on interrupting breakfast to prod at some scar tissue in Vinny’s nose that was making a whistle sound when he breathed, it wouldn’t have happened. Pulled him away and left his mask where it lie, forgotten for hours while he inspected and snipped the problem away.

And then there was a new issue.

Mama’s mold was still shattered. One problem the Doc’s cold, rough hands couldn’t piece back together into perfection. There's a hero cast somewhere that could make a new mold, but Mama wants a newer one. To replace Vinny’s year four mask.

Every second his scars stay exposed makes him cry. He doesn’t like being stared at and dissected like a bug with its wings pinned.

Bo isn’t in his big boy chair. He’s strapped into the too small highchair. The tray squeezes his stomach and the metal hurts his knees. Not as much as the straps though.

Not as much as his feelings when he’s asked about if he loves his brother.

Of course he does. Vincent is the only one in the house that Bo still trusts. And that means he loves him. Because it isn’t his fault the mask melted. It’s Doc’s. And it’s not his fault about the mold breaking, it’s Mama’s.

And it’s not Vincent’s fault that his face got messed up. That one is Bo’s.

Being a good boy and sitting still and letting Mama get her copy of his face should be just the easiest thing. He’s doing this for his brother. His only friend in the world.

It’s never easy.

Mama makes the mixture in a big bowl, hot water and some powder that turns orange. It’s slimy and smells an awful lot like marshland before a rainstorm. The schlop always feels clammy on his skin. Unpleasantly cold and wet no matter how dry it gets.

“Don’t you move now, Bo. Your papa’ll woop you.”

Lies aren’t allowed in this house, unless it’s ‘I love you.’ So Bo knows she means that threat. He’s got to behave or face worse than this.

Doesn’t mean he just can.

The alginate makes Bo flinch, rocking back to scoot his chair away from the sickening feeling. Mama don’t let up. She scoops up handfuls of it and spreads it on his face like it’s one of her fancy creams. At first she always leaves his eyes out, and his lips, and every time he thinks maybe he got lucky and she ain’t gonna drown him in it.

He’s always wrong to trust Mama.

All it takes is another handful, pressed against his mouth while he tries to scream his protests, but she presses her palm down hard so he can’t open it. Everything’s muffled, bottled up so no one can know.

The mixture sneaks tiny drops past his lips and makes him gag, once, twice- but Mama keeps pressing her clawed hand down until it starts to dry just enough that it holds itself. Then over his eyes it goes.

Bo tries to hold them open, but Mama always knows when he’s gonna do stuff like that. She purses her lips and blows a quick puff of cigarette air, makes him flinch again so his eyes close and she can take advantage of it.

Once it’s dark is when Bo panics for real. The healing wounds on his wrists tear right open again as he thrashes harder. The blood drips slow as honey, pooling around the leather straps holding him down.

It’s moments like this, that Bo questions his trust of Vincent.

Vincent who sits patiently in the corner for Mama to finish her torture so he can get back to being the favorite. Without his mask, he’s not wanted. An ugly, warped thing that needs covering up. Like a weed in the garden. Or a corpse in the Doc’s operating room.

Bo wishes his brother would help him. He wishes his mama would listen and take this stuff off his face. He prays that the Doc won’t come home yet and get mad and make things hurt worse. Or maybe that he won’t come home at all.

Mostly though, his brain is like static. Painful, heated, buzzing tv static burning a hole right through the back of his head. He’s in the middle of it, the dark, and sinking. There’s two little holes for him to breathe through, but he can’t get enough air.

Bo digs his nails into his own palms and draws even more blood, and underneath the sticky shell, he screams. And screams. And screams.

Nobody ever listens.

Mama tugs his messy hair in place of being able to slap his face.

“What did I tell you! Quiet while I finish!”

But there’s not enough air and he needs her to listen. Bo’s going to suffocate and all his mama cares about is making Vincent pretty.

Never learning, never getting used to the constraint, Bo tries to tear his arms upwards from the tape, to dig those blunted nails into Mama’s flesh instead of his own.

He can’t get them to budge.

She just keeps going, either not knowing about the mental threat to her safety or not caring.

The alginate starts to get tacky, so Mama wets strips of plaster gauze, the kind from Doc’s office like he used when he broke Bo’s arm putting him in his restraints a long time ago. Water splashing in a new bowl, rung out of each piece before its placed over top, just makes Bo feel even more like he’s dying. Drops landing somewhere in the abyss, his head underneath the water as he drowns.

Bo wants to die. Or he thinks he is dying anyhow. With the very last strip, Mama covers over his nose too.

Again Bo tries to scream, but barely a groan gets past his sealed lips. The full minute it takes to all harden up is far too long without breathing. What was a completely black void behind his eyes gets sparks of flashing red and white. He’s out of air.

A last effort to get his mama to listen, Bo rocks and slams his back against his highchair, desperately trying to tip it. The impact of the ground would force air back into his lungs.

He feels it start to give way, gravity suddenly weighing more heavily on him, but Mama hisses and rocks him right back upright. Her fault for putting a big kid in a little baby's chair.

Mama peels it all away then. From the outside it’s so easy, to cup the sides of his fake plaster face and ease the two layers back, only a couple scraps left sticking to his skin. She’ll help him clean up later if he’s well behaved at supper maybe.

First thing Bo does now is take a big breath in, but it’s too much at once after so long without air, he coughs, throat raw and dry, making Mama jerk back in disgust from him.

“Did you have to be so dramatic?”

Bo knows he’s crying when the image of his mama turns blurry. His face is already numb and cold and wet, but chest starts heaving with sobs, rising and falling all out of rhythm. Instead of his growling and screaming, Bo wheezes and cries and whimpers, unable to catch his breath, because of the tears this time.

The thing about alginate- it’s very sensitive.

Sure it doesn’t pull too bad once it firms up like jell-o, coming off easy from Bo’s eyelashes and eyebrows without disturbing single hair, but that’s just the thing. The rubbery, weak material ain’t meant to last long. It’ll dry out and shrink in a couple hours anyhow, the whole thing got no real structure.

Mama laid the fresh cast in a box of sawdust to pour plaster in it without spills or damage, and noticed, in the mess of Bo thrashing as it came off, a rip had formed. Right across the middle of his face from the side of his mouth to the opposite side of his nose.

Once upon a time, she’d tried to just patch it when it tore, only for the plaster face to come out warped, cheeks flattened and bumpy, nose crooked. One eye missing. She’d given it to the Doc to dispose of. Familiar story.

Mama clicks her tongue against her teeth, a noise of distaste Bo knows just as well. It sends a cold feeling down his spine, worse than the goop on his face.

“You know I’m gonna have to do that all over again now.”

His wrists won’t stop bleeding. They itch and burn as much as his tearful eyes.

Bo steals a glare over at Vincent in his precious, safe corner. His head down, he’s doodling something. Maybe drawing pretty pictures of Beauregard’s misery. All for himself. Selfish, selfish Vincent, doesn’t help and keeps the pain around as art.

Still, that’s no worse than stealing his brother’s face.

The scar on the back of Bo’s head aches.

“I love you.”

It’s for Vinny. To answer the question, he does love his brother.

Mama answers back, like she belonged between their bond,

“You love me. Well thank God you do.”

Her cigarette ash on his skin hurts worse than the burning in his lungs. The crumbling cherry touches his cheek and leaves a little singe by the corner of his mouth. His own tears soothe it.

Though smoke doesn’t make calming down any easier.

“You best love me, Beauregard. Show me. Be a good boy and sit still.”

[secondbeatsongs]

new year, new food crime

I hate it when recipe bloggers tell you the entire rundown of their day before giving the recipe, so just to start off, I'm going to put this here:

3 cups of liquid (water + shrimp water) 3 packets unflavored gelatin 1 tbsp vegetable base (or a bouillon of some kind; that'd probably be fine) 1 large handful of shrimps (approx 20) 3 eggs, hard-boiled and sliced 1 small bag mixed frozen vegetables, thawed a gelatin mold or bowl with a capacity of 4 cups

now, looking at this ingredients list you might be asking, "hey SBS, what the fuck did you cook this time?" and to that I say: buckle up.

so I've been watching Arne & Carlos' videos for a bit, firstly because I was curious if they were gay (they seem to be), and secondly because I like their knitting patterns

but their channel isn't just knitting! they also cook together, and it's fun and chaotic, and one of the things they cooked…intrigued me.

I don't know how this dish is spelled. cabaret? kabaret? there are only a few recipes for it online, and most of those are not in english. but essentially, it is a Norwegian aspic with shrimp, vegetables, and hard-boiled egg in it.

what is aspic, you might ask? well, it's…I mean…it's meat jello. that's what it is. you cook meat for a while (some recipes say to use pig's feet, snout, etc), and it makes a gelatinous broth, which solidifies when it cools.

delightful!

however, I am not willing to make aspic from scratch for this, so I substituted it with unflavored gelatin packets. hooray!

(apparently in Norway, you can buy packets of instant aspic! but since you can't do that here, I looked up what ingredients are in instant aspic, and after putting them through google translate, decided "huh, seems like gelatin powder with some kind of bouillon", so that's how I ended up here)

this recipe isn't so much cooking as it is…construction. like sure, you heat up the gelatin, but after that it's pretty much just putting stuff together.

and apparently you can make this with pre-cooked or canned shrimp, but I only had the raw frozen kind, so I put them in a saucepan with just enough water to cover them, heated them until they were fully cooked, and then saved the water from the pan to mix in with the gelatin.

so, shrimpy water + enough water to make 3 cups of liquid, and then I mixed in vegetable base until it tasted…fine. (it didn't taste good, it just tasted…okay.)

then I heated up the liquid in the microwave (in a big 4-cup measuring cup), mixed in the three gelatin packets, and there you go! that's all of the cooking done.

now, for the assembly.

I put some of the shrimp all the way at the bottom of the jello mold, trying to arrange it so that it would look nice. I sliced the hard-boiled eggs, and put the prettiest slices of egg around the edges, sprinkling in some vegetables and pouring gelatin as I went.

…and then I gave up on being artistic, and just kinda lumped everything else in, and covered it with the gelatin mixture.

(unfortunately I didn't think to take pictures of the assembly portion of this, because I was multitasking at the time and got distracted, but you'll just have to trust me that it was a tolerable experience, and didn't look very interesting)

after that I chucked it into the fridge (gently), and left it alone while I streamed with makerrcat for a bit, stayed up way too late, and then passed out in a dramatic fashion.

13-ish hours later, I rescued it from its frigid prison.

hmmm

stare into the murky depths with me for a moment. look at this…nightmarish placid soup. this motionless broth.

one of my egg slices definitely didn't get covered all the way. 

ah, well.

to unmold this monstrosity, I put it in a bowl of hot water for a minute or so, until it seemed like it could pull away from the edges. it really didn't take much, so if you (god forbid) try this yourself, keep an eye on it. gelatin melts fast.

then I put a plate over the jello mold, and flipped it over.

after a few tense seconds, it released from the mold with a slimy kthnk sound.

carefully. nervously. I lifted the mold.

and then I let out an involuntary "oh!" because…

…it's kind of…eerily beautiful?

like in a horrifying sort of eldritch way, it looks…lovely

vegetables and shrimp and eggs, suspended not just in space but in time, preserved and surrounded by a gelatinous cocoon…

I just like staring at it, okay! I just think it looks cool! so here's another picture of it from the side:

the egg slices…the little bits of yolk…enchanting

it definitely smells like food. but it's unclear what kind. vaguely shrimp-vegetable-egg, but muddled

let's cut into it

oh. oh god. it made kind of a…squelch? when I cut it?

hold on, you have to experience this for yourselves

god. deeply unsettling.

now, seeing what the inside is like is kind of interesting! there are places where the gelatin has sort of splintered apart from being cut, and there are gaps where pieces of vegetable have fallen out.

but...how does it taste?

...

fuck.

I really like it

this bizarre combination of textures is weirdly satisfying! the squish of the egg and the gelatin, the slight crunch of the vegetables and shrimp, it's just…good?

the gelatin itself just tastes vaguely of broth, but I don't mind it! I don't know if I would eat it by itself, but with the shrimp, egg, and veggies, it's perfectly okay!

the shrimp, egg, and vegetables of course just taste (respectively) like shrimp, egg, and vegetables, but that's...fine? I like all of these things, so this is pretty enjoyable!

so, some of the recipes I managed to find mention serving it with sort of a mayo-mustard mix, so obviously I have to try that

this...helps? like, it tastes really pleasant?

not that it was bad before, but it remains an enjoyable experience!

and a video that I saw (but could not understand) seemed to show it served on a piece of bread, again with the mayo-mustard.

this is also fine! I enjoy this too! I don't feel like it needs the bread, but it's all right!

this is bizarre.

I think most people would probably hate this. it's got the look of a 1960s party food (which is probably what it is), and "meat jello" isn't a texture that modern society regularly enjoys, but…I love it.

I actually love this.

I kind of understand now why people call dishes like this a "jello salad", because…I mean, I'm eating it, and my brain is saying, "yup. this is a salad" and I have no fucking idea why, but this right here? salad. for sure.

cold, wet salad.

damp, even.

so like...is this objectively good food? probably not.

but is it fun to eat? I think so. 

it's refreshing, somehow. it's light, but also more filling than I expected it to be. I have no idea how much would be considered a reasonable serving, but I intend to figure it out as I go along.

so I'm not saying "go make this!" because although this combination of textures plays well with my brain in particular, I don't think that would be the case for everybody.

but I will be eating the rest of this.

weirdly? weirdly, it's just good.

-

an edit, a few days later:

I have done it. I have consumed the entire thing. and I enjoyed every bite of it.

in fact, I plan on making it again! probably more than once!

food crime? no. food…

(pauses to look up what the opposite of "crime" is)

…food blessing. food virtue. food achievement! food…benevolence.

this is what cabaret is.

at least, that's what it is to me.

(create and consume at your own risk.)

[outtheoiseaux]

The Blue Room

(An excerpt from a story)

Celine’s grandfather- along with the help of a young, spry and altogether cooky intern he hired fresh out of her masters degree at the Oxford school of Anthropology- manages to uncover a previously unknown storage room buried beneath the ashy ruins of Pompeii in the summer of Celine’s first year of middle school. Nicknamed the “blue room” for its cerulean wall paintings which feature profoundly vibrant frescoes of scantily clad female figures, The Blue Room is a true gem of history in that it is not only believed to have once served as a sacrarium- an ancient Roman room in which sacred artifacts would be stored for future use in rituals- it was also filled with stacks of hulking amphorae -massive vases used by slaves and artisans for artifact transportation- and sloping piles of discarded oyster shells which Celine’s Grandpa and his yellow-bellied intern believe to have been discarded by onsite workers who happened to have been using them in local renovations when the eruption occurred.

Much of this information Celine can readily skim from the crust of her mind solely because of the sheer amount of times she has heard the words repeated when her older cousin- an awkward and altogether bumbling seventeen year old boy from Cambridge who had been living with her and her grandfather for the last three or so years since his grandmother suddenly and tragically perished- would turn to her grandfather with his great, big, buggy black eyes prewet with wonder and stutter out yet another line of inquiry into the stoic old man’s exploits as an adventuring archeologist.

Grandpa Haber’s miraculous discovery of The Blue Room was of course the most miraculous in that it bolstered his reputation so thoroughly and impressively in his field that not even two years after the initial find, Celine found herself, her cousin and of course, her grandfather’s oddball of an intern-turned-assistant soaring across the globe from the quaint and sunny beaches of Punta Gorda in southwestern coastal Florida to the mild-climated, kitsch and colorful college town of Ann Arbor for his brand spanking new position as a professor with the University of Michigan.

“You know, it really does remind me of when my gran first got her position at Cambridge.” Joey whispers to her from behind the navy blue canvas veneer of Bernard Shaw’s Pygmalion. “It really is bloody wonderful for the ego to come from a family like this; I mean, if we’re both descended from professors in their respective fields, it’s probably safe to assume we might have inherited some of their hereditary IQ.” From her window seat, Celine watches fat, slimy clouds spin lazily below, growing larger and larger with perspective as the plane makes its descent. If her great aunt’s intelligence is hereditary, she thinks to herself privately, then she really does hope that the woman’s fatal heart issues aren’t.

Their new home, Celine learns as her grandfather moseys up the winding paths of a spacy suburban sprawl in the rental car, is located in a sleepy, lightly forested town in the residential garden hills of northern Ann Arbor. The house itself is a beautiful thing; a historic unit with delicately patterned Tiffany windows, a charming, oaken porch which cuts into the first floor and wraps around the front, thick, wooden beams, charmingly kitsch vintage furniture, art deco wallpaper, wrought iron window decorations, a series of increasingly aged light covers hanging from the center of the Victorian ceiling moldings and a tasteful exterior which has been (to Celine’s admitted delight) painted entirely in a warm, dusky purple. Celine decides to call it The Purple House.

“How in the world do you think Mister Haber managed to afford a beaut like this?” Joey, entirely bug-eyed, marvels at the rows of inlaid bookshelves that wrap the walls of what appears to have once been an office room but must have been transformed by the previous residents into their private library of collector’s editions. “I mean, he’s not hard-pressed for funds by any means but for heavens’ake, you don’t make this kind of money in his sort of research, and the man isn’t a socialite!”

“A socialite?” Celine wrinkles her nose. “Why would he need to be a socialite?”

“This is a socialite’s house.” Her cousin dutifully informs her. “The only thing you could think to do with a parlor this dreadfully impressive is to host equally impressive gatherings.”

She would never let the poor thing know it, but Celine sometimes thinks that her cousin enjoys needless frivolities with a suspiciously intense sort of vigor. So suspiciously intense, in fact, that she’s starting to suspect he would benefit more from finishing school than a university education. Out of the corner of her eye, the gold inlaid label of Antigone flashes from a handsome, red, hard-cover canvas binding.

“You wanna go check out the rooms?” She bites out through an oh-so-innocent grin. Best to distract him before he can get his hands on some old tome from the previous tenants' personal collection.

“That depends,” Joey throws his head back in a hearty guffaw and his unit of a fringe flops around in earnest, “on whether or not you’ve got the guts to race me for first dibs?”

The Purple House, Celine eventually learns, is actually called the Hallisbury House- or at least was upon its construction by a couple of Nouveau-Richie gilded age socialites years ago. All of this she gleans from a series of tastefully arranged picture frames hanging along the walls in such an order that, if one were to trail slowly down the halls and view each image in order, she would witness the building of the home, the renovations over the years and the process of the lives of the original owners. Morbidly, the last hanging image in the series- an exorbitantly decorated framed print hanging over the fireplace as a centerpiece to the already elaborate mantle- depicts an artistically framed black and white shot (clearly taken on a modern, digital camera) of the original owners’ gravestones. Whoever lived here last had, she thinks, a very strong sense of humor.

Beneath the photograph, on a gilded, silver plaque, an engraving reads:

A beautiful photograph from a beautiful Daughter.

Celine’s new room is on the second floor, directly above the kitchen, and is the only bedroom in the house with a window that faces out to the front yard and driveway. These three facts are perhaps the only ordinary thing about the place. Much like the house’s exterior, Celine’s new room is almost entirely made up of various tasteful shades of purple. There’s a lilac shag carpet and a stained-indigo oak closet and a painted-plum oak dresser and a violet bean bag and a mauve mattress and byzantium tasseled pillows and an eggplant duvet. Everything from the floor to the baseboards to the walls to the Victorian ceiling moldings is painted in the color, so much so that Celine begins to wonder if the visual fatigue will make her see yellow the second she steps out. Everything from the floor to the baseboards to the walls to the Victorian ceiling moldings is painted the color purple- everything, that is, except for the bright, blood red velvet curtains draped in theatrical arcs and ruffles over the ostentatiously gothy bedside window. The other rooms in the house are perfectly normal looking, if a little antique. She checked every last one of them, and this is the outlier.

“A beautiful room,” Celine giggles out to the empty room, “for a beautiful daughter.” She takes great care to adopt a disgustingly thick Oxford drawl when she says it, then she giggles even more because it makes her sound a little too much like her cousin who used to live there.

[xxmia0wm4yh3mxx]

GLOOZE

(Chapter: One)

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A poorly written fic with bad grammer about my fluffy shipkid comfort au i made cuz because of one oc

Also Rogerg and My Able are here

And Queenie is alive Fuck it

Ships: Showtime, BunnyDoll, abstragedy, Checkmates

TW: Child trauma , bullying

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Pomni was roaming the corridors of the Tent, she stopped and saw The cast members gathered around in a circle, looking at something on the floor

Zooble: Ew what is that thing?

Gangle: It kinda looks like a giant booger...

Jax: Why are we staring at this thing? This is like, the least weird thing here

Kinger: Look! Look! Its moving! its Alive!

Pomni tilted her head and walked over

Pomni: What are you all doing?

Queenie turned her head to Pomni

Queenie: Pomni, Dearie! You're close to Caine, do you know what this is?

She walked over and joined the circle, on the floor was a big green splat on the floor, It like Jello in process of rotting only it was pulsating gently like a slime mold

Pomni: wah- what is this?

Kinger: we don't really know, do think its edible?

Jax: I dunno, you should Try it

Ragatha: No, No you shouldn't! You dont know what it is

Pomni: Its probably nothing, maybe I should go ask Caine-

Gangle: Look! Its moving again!

The Splat Was pulling itself together and forming a small piller, The top of it Swelled bigger and bigger like bubble, until it stood atop of a thin neck connecting it to the body, the body slouched due to the weight of the bulbous head

Everyone was staring at it with awe as the slime took form of a vaguely humanoid shape, A single, Big, Bright Orange Eye opened

???: Wah- huh?- What the- where- where am I?

The voice of a young boy came out of the slimes mouth, his one eye shooting across the room and then staring quietly the cast members, The slime meekishly backed up form the cast members

???: w-whats going on?!

His voice was shivering with anxiety and confusion

Pomni: Oh my God thats kid!

She rushed over to the Boy, his breath audibly becoming heavy

Pomni: Are you okay?! Look, I-I know this is Scary but-

She was Cut off when The Child started Screaming like a Banshee

???: WHAT THE (BLOINK!) ARE YOU PEOPLE?! WHAT AM I?! GET ME OUT OF HERE!!

The Child slinked away and splated on the floor, he quickly pulled Himself Up and slithered away, Yelling like he was being murdered

The other Circus members trying to calm him down and catch him, He crashed into a trash bin and a weird looking Muppet thing with fly wings and antenna spilled out and crashed on the floor

Rogerg: GAH- WHAT THE (HONK)?!

The muppet and the slime just stared at eachother for bit before the fly puppet thing started shouting at the top of his lungs

Rogerg: CAAAAAIINE!! THEIRS A GIANT BOOGER IS TORMENTING MY LIFE GET IT OOOUUUTTT!!!! GET IT OOUUUUUUTTTT!!!

The Slime leaped over the trash can, his body compacted into a sphere and started Bouncing all over the Circus, the Child screaming while he controllably spurng around the tent

Caine: Did Someone Called for me?!

Caine looked at the slimeball darting across the room and he grabbed him by the back of the neck, his gooey body went limp like a kitten, He sat him down on the floor, patting his head

Caine: Their you go! All better!

The boy was just silent, breathing quietly the confusion and fear still plastered on his face

Caine: You alright son? You look you've seen a ghost!

The Boy: .....Am.... Am I Dead? Because this doesn't look like heaven or Hell...

Caine chuckled and put his hand on his shoulder

Caine: No my Slimy friend! You certainly not Dead but digitally reborn! You my boy have entered A Digital world of Endless Fun and Adventure!!

The Boy perked up alittle

The boy: ....Adventure? Like... Dragons and Zombies?

Caine: Thats certainly a possibility!!

The Boy: That Sounds Sick!!

The Child's body bounced up and down, the confusion on his face turned into wonder and excitement

Caine was taken aback alittle about how Excited he was, usually new humans panicked and screamed at him when He explained the Digital world, but he was excited and even happy about His predicament

Caine: it certainly is "sick" my Boy! Let me show you around town!

He picks him up by his back againn and teleported him outside and told him all about the Grounds

The Boy: WOW! A free Carnival! They never let me in Carnivals! Awesome!

Caine: Now Thats the spirit son!! So glad you like it!

Caine teleported them back to the tent, and sat the Boy down next to the rest of the cast

They Boy: This place is epic!! I never wanna Leave!!

Caine: Love the enthusiasm Son! Im sure you'll have a great time!

The Boy: Yeah! I gotta go tell everyone about this place! There all gonna be so Jealous!!

The Boy sprinted to the door before stoping in his tracks coming to a terrifying realization

Where did he live? Where was everyone else? What was His name again? He didn't even remember what His face even looked like

He shuttered, Everything he knew was erased, his body became dead still, terror frozen on her face

He slowly turned his face back to the Ringmaster

The Boy: How..... How... Do I... Leave?

Everyone was uncomfortably silent and looking around, Jax tried to say something but Ragatha Shut him up

Pomni: Um.... Now don't freak out... but We... There isn't.... We don't Actually know....

The Boy: What Do you mean Dude?! I'm stuck here forever?!

Jax: Well yeah pretty much

Ragatha: Jax!

Jax: What? He was going to find out eventually!

The Boy was just Quiet, His pupil retracted and His mouth went agap, He started hyperventilating

The Boy: I CAN’T LEAVE?! I CAN’T GO BACK HOME?!

His Gelatinous body starting shivering which looked a bit like jiggling, his eye started watering, His breath starting coming out in shaky spruts

Pomni: Hey! Hey! It'll be okay! ...Just ...Try to... um...

Ragatha: Think Positive! Its really not so bad here!...

The Child's crying became more profuse The cast tried to comfort him, embedding the tragic reality into His Head

Caine Quietly: Not again...

Caine looked the Child With sympathy, This ALWAYS happens whenever a new human eneters and never knew what to do to help them, Only it was worse this time because It was a Child, an innocent Child who was probably missing his Parents, his friends...

Wait... Friends... Pals... Caine got an idea

Caine: WELP! Son, you certainly got yourself into a pretty psychology damaging predicament, Which means theres only One thing to do!!

The Child looked up at him, Tears still in his eyes and Cast trying to comfort him

The Boy: .....What?

Caine: Social Therapy!!

The Boy: *sniff* what?...

Caine Took his baton and summoned a closed stage curtain

Caine: I give you.... Your Psychological Aid Liaisons!!

The Curtain opened and reveled 6 younger looking cast members

Caine: Your P.A.LS!!

The Boy looked at Caine confused and then the Pals, One who was a Black Chess piece like one of the Cast members, randomly fell on his face, The Boy looks back at Caine perplexed

Caine: Thats Right! These Googly Little Guardians are here to Bring you Endless Comfort and tranquility in Your lowest points in Life! Not To mention Tons and Tons Of Fun!

The Boy: ...What?

Before The Boy could question futher a Pal ran up to him, They were Brightly colorful like the circus they were in and made of Random shapes and parts, they could hardly run due to their fragile, lopsided body, They Shook his slimey with their ribbony one

Niku: Afternoon! My name is Niku, What a wonderful day it is such a swell person such as you!

The Boy: um... Okay-

A Rabbit Ragdoll, covered in Patches, bumped into Niku, toppling them over and smashing into pieces

Patchricia: Nice to meet'cha New friend! Cupcake?

She offered him a cupcake shaped like a bunny

The Boy: Um... I-Im good

Patchricia: suit yaself!

She ate the cupcake herself, two Chess pieces wearing Pink and Blue robes walked up Him and curtsyed

Princessa: A Pleased im sure, My Name is Princessa and this my Brother Princely

Princely: Hello! I like how green you are! Im certain we will be good friends!

Princely Extended his floating hand to him, The Boy slinked away in response, Princessa it and moved Her brother out of His way

Next, A Pal with Soma cube for a Head and one green eye went up to him, their calm and professional demeanor a contrast to the cutesy sailor suit they were wearing

Qwerty: Greetings, My name is Qwerty, I am here to assist with any inquiries or tasks you may have, Please let me know how I can be of service

Their monotonous and flat voice was unsettling to him, almost creepy sounding

The Boy: Uh-huh sure...

Qwerty: Alright then

They walked away and joined the Pals Who were helping Niku put them selves back together and adding new parts to them

Patchricia: sorry bout that, I got too excited

Nikus voiced changed to one androgynous to more high pitched and feminine

Niku: *Sniffle* oh no no no its all my fwault!!

Qwerty: unreasonable reason, Patchricia was the one who pushed you

The boy just stared at the absolute absurdity of the Artificial "Intelligences" that were supposed to help him

Ragtha: Isn't this great! Look at the new friends you have!

The Boy just stared with a dumbfounded face

Caine: One... Two... Three... wait, Wheres-

M' ere!

A little tooth-headed Boy wearing orange suspenders and a striped shirt ran up to the Ringmaster with Chocolate sauce all over his face

Caine: Ah! Enock! There you are Son!

Enock: I made a Chocolate foutain In the Bafroom!

Caine: Thats great champ! Say, why don't you go say to our new friend!

Enock: New Friend?! Well Hotdog! I love New friends!

Enock looked over to The slime Boy, He was bouncing up and down with Excitement, the Boy looked at him like he had two heads instead of a tooth one

Enock ran over as fast he could, and hugged and shaked him as hard as could, Squishing His Gooey body against him

Enock: HI! My names Enock!! I like to Sing and Dance and wear suspenders with my pants... Hey that Ryhmed!! Do you like it here?! I love it here! We can love it here together! Golly Gosh! You sure are Green! Like broccoli! I dont like broccoli, But I like YOU! Also your eye is my favorite color! And!... and...

Enock noticed The Boy was absolutely terrified by his over excitement so he went quiet as everyone else

Qwerty: ...I believe you have frightened him Enock

Enock: ....im sorry...

He looked down on the floor ashamed and sad he screwed up at an introduction so badly

Pomni and Caine looked at their child sympathetically, They hated seeing him so upset

Pomni: Hey um.. Enock.. why don't you go show your New friend Around the Tent?

Caine: Great Idea Love! Enock! Go show our little green friend The Magic of The Circus!

Enock: Really!? Hotdog!!

He jumped in the air with excitement

Patchricia: aw c'mon! Why does HE getta do it!?

Ragatha: PATCHRICIA!

Patchricia: I'm Sorry!

Later Enock was walking with The Boy through the Halls of the circus and they came to a colorful door with the words 'The Learning Room' in puffy, bold letters on it,

He opened the door to show a cartoony classroom with a alphabet puzzle carpet, circle tables spread across the area, arts and crafts covered the walls and storty books on the shelves and Big chalkboard with random doodles and phrases on it

Enock: Dishisda School room! We learn lossa things here! Like scince, Engrish, maff, arts, and Gramma! imma... not very good at dat last one... or tha others... ebendo.. My uncle is the teacher... and my dad is literally god... But das Okay! Because- Hey where'd ja go?

The Boy wasn't listening to Him, He was Staring into the affirmation mirror at his own reflection, a disconcert and absolute disturbed expression looking staring back at him

The Boy: This.... This... Isn't my face... I don't look like this...

Enock tilted his head

Enock: wattdiya mean? Weren't you Born slimy?

The Boy: ..... I don't know... I... I try to remember my face... my name...

His voice became shaky

The Boy: But... But its like it never existed in the first place...

Enock: Nothing?! Na' even your friends?... or your family? An all the People who love you?....

The Boy's voice hitches and Started tearing up...

The Boy: No... I- I don't...

Enock's demeanor quickly went from happy to one of sorrow

Enock: I.... I... *gasp* I know! You wanna A hug? Dey always make everything better!

He went up to him, arms outstretched to hug the distressed Boy, But The boy slid away from Enock's kind gesture

The Boy: N-no!

He had a bothersome manner like Enock was doing something absurd or wrong, Enock put his arms down embarrassed and twiddling his nonexistent fingers

Enock: well... Do you... Do you wanna go play with other pals with me?

The Boy: .....Sure

Later, Enock took The Boy to the Pal's Clubhouse, Inside they were all sitting in a circle sharing Cookies and Chips and talking with eachother

Patchricia: So I Ended up accidentally spilling the batter all over my dress and I, like, literally Jumped six feet in the air! Now, I know it was just batter, but it was like, in that weird goop phase that I hate, Like, Slimy things are just gross and I hate them

The Boy gave Patchricia a dirty look

Patchricia: Oh! um... No offense to you of course! Im sure you're very nice and clean!

Princessa: Tch! I really don't get your obsession with everything having to be sparkly clean all the time, gosh you're so dramatic!

Patchricia: Oh really? If you're so chill bout Dirty things, why don't I go dump Trash all over your perfect, clean, sparkly room?

Princessa: oh Nonono! Please dont do that!

Niku: I Find trash quite exhilarating experience! I get to discover all sorts of new bits and pieces and rebirth them into parts! And I also I can be in the presence of My Uncle!

Princly: Oh yeah Uncle Rogerg Is awesome! Hes so sweet and nice!

Patchricia: Oh yeah! Like, I wouldn't touch him without a towl but hes awesome!

Everybody started talking about how they love Uncle Rogerg, confuseing the Boy

The Boy: wait... you're not talking about the weird Muppet thing that lives in the trash are you?

Niku: Tehe! No silly im talking about my Uncle Rogerg! He's a felt marionette that lives in the garbage

The Boy was looking at them all weird when he noticed the absence of someone

The Boy: hey, wheres the Blockhead?

Princessa: Qwerty has a Special Curriculum, apparently, their learning how to make new worlds and people!

Princely: oh Yeah! They're like the smartest person ever!

Patchricia: They can pretty much do anything

Princessa: A true Renaissanceman in the humble package of an Everyman

Enock: They are also my cousin! Didja know that?!

He shook the Boy a little

Niku: That is true Enock, but you certainly act opposite!

Patchricia: I know right? Its like your not even related at all

Enock slowly quieted down, The boy tilted his head to look at him, he looked like something distressing him was on his mind

The Boy: So... what do you guys do all day exactly?

Niku: were all here to make people happy and help them when feeling distressed

Princely: that or were at school

Patchricia: or playing minigames

The Boy: okay, cool... so what do the Adults do? Do they have Jobs? Or do they wander around aimlessly too?

Enock: OH! OH! My Dad makes them all cool adventures that they can go everyday! Hes really REALLY cool and make Cool worlds and People and Makes everybody happy! And someday Imma learn ta make em Too someday! And- And- And- When I do, imma make all sorts of cool things and make everybody happy!! And- And- And- An- An- An- ima Make all sorta kewl things like A diner Run by Talking dinosaurs and make Magic hotdogs!! And then imma make a magic Moose that tells your the darkest desires and Birds that throw up more birds and giant skeleton hands that pick up you and takes you to nirvana! or giraffes that are actually snakes!-

Enock started endlessly rambling about random weird things, he was talking so fast it started sounding like absoulte gibberish and started shaking his hands and stomping his feet

When he calmed down, He noticed everyone was looking at him like he was deranged, especially The Boy

The Boy: ....dude...What is wrong with you?

Enock meekly hid his face in his knees

Niku: So... Adventures! They're funnest!

Princessa: You know yesterday, Father told about me that they explored a Cave full of gemstones, He told me it was Magical! I wish I was there with him

The Boy: what? Can't you?

Patchricia: No, Mr. Caine said their to dangerous for us, we do get to do other things instead though

The Boy: well... im not one of you guys, so can I go?

Princely: Well im sure you figure out when Mr. Caine announces the next one tomorrow

Enock: OH! OH! You're gonna love my Dad! He's like the coolest ever!! You're gonna love him! He tells Me all sorts of smart things!

Enock started grabbed The Boy and playfully shaking him faster and faster

Enock: Like- Like- Why We should never pay taxes! Or How bathing in toothpaste is actually good for you, and it also feels nice because its minty! I like the Mango flavored one because I like mangos! Did you know Mangos and cashews are cousins? Thats because cashews come from a fru-

Enock accidentally pushed the boy onto the floor, splattering him all over the other Pals

The Boy: OW!- *Splat!*

Patchricia: EW! EW! EW! EWWWW!! ENOCK YOU CLUTZ!!

Princely: Enock, Why'd you do that?!

Enock looked absolutely humiliated, and grabbed his long eyestalks on the sides of head and covered his face and left the club house, leaving The boy a splat on the floor

At night, The boy found a little playmat to use as a blanket, He was trying to get comfy but everytime he tried to relax he oozed out of the blanket not to mention a jelly body wasn't exactly comfortable for him, He hated this body that wasn't his, he hated this place that wasn't his home, he hated all the weird and annoying people in this Dumb, stupid Circus, He just wanted to go home but he couldn't even fathom what 'home' even felt like, did he ever? Will he ever know? He curled himself underneath the blanket which he oozed out of

The Boy: Ugh! This place sucks (CAR HORN)!

Enock: How'd you dodat with your mouth?

Great, The Crazy Clown boy was back, it COULD get worse than this

Enock: Wire you sleeping onda floor?

The Boy: Go Screw yourself freak! You're making everything worse!

Instead of screwing off he sat down on the floor and scouched himslef closer to him

Enock: 何が問題なの?

The Boy: Stop! Just Stop! Everything here is so freaking weird! I just... I just wanna go home, But I dont even now what home is! I dont even remember what normal feels like and YOU being a total weirdo freakazoid IS. NOT. HELPING. So go AWAY!

The Boy: Ugh, can my life get any worse??

Enock: Do You... wanna A hug? Dey always make everything better!

He extended his arms to hug him, but he slithered away from him, His gelatinous body literally boiling and bubbling like a angry Cat hissing at a puppy, but Enock's arms were still extended

Enock: C'mon! It'll help!

The boys body sizzled louder, making the blanket burn off his body

Enock: ... pretty please?

Pomni far away: Ennie! Its Time for Bed!

Enock hesitated to leave for a bit, before sprinting away to his room, The boy continued helplessly to try to get comfortable on the hard floor, He felt his eye start to water and he started to weep, he didn't know why he was here, or what this place even his he just wanted to go home,

but... did he know even know home was?

END OF CHAPTER 1

Part 2

[douglysium]

I feel like not enough people talk about The Corruption's themes of self-loathing in regards to love. The idea that you are so disgusted by yourself you think the only thing that could love you is the crawling worms, slimy bacteria, scuttling insects, and blooming mold. You feel like an insect worth less than dirt and truly the soil and bugs you feel like must be the only things that can love you. Rot is the only thing that does not discriminate its love, as it embraces all equally.

[catboygirljoker]

What are Lamia's onpinioms about commonly "controversial" foods eg cilantro onions mushrooms etc ??

honestly thinking about it i think a lot of lamias aversion to eating food in general comes from being a picky eater and not knowing it. i wonder if post-canon when he has space to say no to foods (and someone who likes cooking for him, smile) he finds that there are a lot of foods he hates!

pineapple on pizza: they like it ok. cant really eat fresh pineapple but when its cooked its not nearly as sour

cilantro: they do not have the "cilantro tastes like soap" gene. they think its ok.

mushrooms: thought they hated them until they had mushrooms that were actually cooked properly

onions: WILL not eat raw onions, and has it so firmly in his brain that cooked onions are slimy and stringy that he refuses to eat those, either

sushi: doesnt mind that it's raw, but cant get over the texture.

eggs: i think ive said they wont eat most preparations of eggs. well its true.

bleu cheese: absolutely cannot get over the fact that theyre eating mold.

coconut: not partial, in any form, in any preparation.

licorice: LOVES it. by extension they also like fennel and tarragon.

pickles: loved them until they had 1 really bad Pickle Experience and now they hate them forever and ever.

[kiyfra]

The third and final chapter of Katatsumuri is finished! It can be read here or on A03. Pokerus AU belongs to @monsoon-of-art.

"A creature given to melancholy. I suspect its metallic shell developed as a result of the mucus on its skin reacting with the iron in Hisui's water."

----------------------------------------------------------------

Gaeric’s tent was still coated in ice, a thick sheet of it forming a few days ago. The warden’s remaining hand had fallen off just as his arm and leg had, this time during the clan’s communal dinner. A loud crack was heard through the dining hall and the hand shattered like glass upon hitting the ground, drawing everyone’s attention. Gaeric had solemnly gotten up and announced he was going to bed, managing his crutch as best he could and ignoring his concerned clan mates offering to help. He kept his head down and headed to his tent with a thousand yard stare.

A heavy snow storm raged that night and come morning the tent was cocooned in a dense layer of ice, separating it from the outside world. Neither fire nor steel could put a dent in it; a complete black box where Gaeric was presumably undergoing the final stages of his metamorphosis.

Shouts asking if he was alright hadn’t produced a response, indeed nothing could be heard from within the ice chrysalis. Even if Gaeric was attempting to ride it out as stoically as possible, he would have wanted to reassure his worried clan members. Either he couldn’t hear them or he couldn’t answer, neither was comforting. There was an eerie stillness in the air as the clan waited.

Lian almost envied the solitude. He spent most of his time in his tent, withdrawn into his shell, hoping to blot out the world around him. He didn’t want anyone to see him like this, slimy, immobile, unable to fulfill his duties as a warden and completely dependent on others.

He had been transformed completely into a sliggoo, the painful process finally at an end after so many weeks. It had felt like a Fox resided in him and took delight in tormenting him. Lian could imagine sharp claws slowly dragging organs into place, muscles being stretched and molded. His entire body being rearranged as it saw fit, heedless of his cries begging it to stop. A metallic shell grew out of his skin, spiraling around his lower half as his legs atrophied.

With his transformation complete the thing had gone dormant, evidently satisfied with the new arrangement. Enzymes had finished dissolving his skeleton, his flesh was gluey to the touch and muscular tissue affixed to the absurdly heavy shell.

Lian just didn’t want to think or feel anything. Not the vicious cycle of his body excreting acidic mucus when he was stressed, then the awful disgusting feeling stressing him out more. Not about how he couldn’t keep being Lord Kleavor’s warden and how he’d be stuck like this forever. If he kept trying to retreat further back and concentrate on the smooth curved interior of his shell, he could pretend he didn’t even have a body.

People still came to bring him meals and check on him before Lian quickly dismissed them. He knew if he didn’t he’d have to endure awkward attempts at conversation and answer unwanted questions.

“How are you doing? You really shouldn’t spend all your time moping. Why don’t you join everyone else for dinner?”

What was he even supposed to say to that?

The clan respected his need for space and Lian knew he wasn’t the only one suffering. Very few across Hisui had escaped the bizarre infliction turning people into pokémon; PokéRus, as the Galaxy professor called it. Those that worked closely with pokémon turned first, meaning the wardens and clan leaders, but it soon spread to everyone. Snovers, bunearys, piloswines, sneasles and an assortment of others at differing stages of transformation became a common sight at the settlement.

It wasn’t much fun turning into a quadruped, losing opposable thumbs or gaining bizarre new dietary needs. Many had been trying to ignore their newfound desires to eat grass or raw meat. Lian himself found that anything with salt made him violently ill, so that meant he couldn’t eat any of the clan’s cured meat they had stored. He had mostly been eating soup, the liquid diet being the easiest on him since his teeth fell out.

A bowl of mushroom stew sat uneaten by his bedside, having gone cold an hour ago. Lian couldn’t stand the goopy squelching noises that came from him when eating. Eating sounds had always bothered and disgusted him, but were now unbearable. He was repulsed by the urge to let his own acid dissolve the food before eating or needing to use a chitinous tongue to eat anything solid. He could barely bring himself to eat the meals brought to him, only doing so at his partner’s insistence.

Goomy hadn’t left his side since he was brought to the settlement, frequently leaning against him in an attempt to comfort him and kicking up a fuss if he thought Lian was letting himself waste away.

He knew it was wrong to worry his partner like that, especially after the stunt he pulled in the mire lands. It had given him and Calaba quite a fright when Lord Kleavor started bellowing outside Calaba’s tent, carrying him by the scruff of his tunic, half-conscious.

His partner abruptly perked up, noticing someone approaching the camp briefly before Lian did. A small dewott treaded through the Pearl Clan settlement carrying a heavy satchel. They were beating a path directly to Lian’s tent, the physical details filled in long before they approached the door.  Black nub ears poked out from a head-kerchief and a long scarf was wound snuggly around their neck. The locks of hair adorning both sides of their face like mock lop ears couldn’t have belonged to anyone else but Dawn.

She had clearly been swimming recently; water droplets still clung to her fur and her scarf was frozen stiff. Snow stuck to her fluffed up coat and ice crystals formed at the end of her whiskers. She was still pretty, even as a dewott.

A small paw rapped on the door to his tent. “Lian, can I come in?”

He really didn’t want Dawn to see him. He spent several seconds trying to think of a response, some way to send her away that wasn’t rude before she asked, “Are you okay?”

He didn’t dignify that with an answer. She seemed to realize her mistake and followed up with, “Right, that was a dumb question.”

There was an awkward pause as Dawn deliberated on what she should say or do next. No one in the Pearl Clan would take kindly to someone entering their home, their sacred space, without permission. If Lian told her to leave, there was nothing she could do.

After some deliberation, she decided to just go for it and state the reason for her visit.

“I brought you something,” Dawn announced, lifting her waterlogged satchel up. She clearly went out of her way to see him and there was no polite way to tell her to leave. Besides, Lian would be lying if he said he wasn’t intrigued by the gift and what she went swimming in the ice lands for.

His curiosity won out. “Come in.”

The dewott opened the door, shaking herself to clear the water and snow off before entering.

It was completely dark inside his tent save for the afternoon sun pouring through the now open door, giving his living space a depressing atmosphere. He was resting on the floor next to his bed, peering out over the edge of his shell self-consciously, with his partner Goomy beside him. He still wore his hat, without it he’d feel completely naked.

Lian’s tent had fallen into a state of disarray with his Pearl Clan uniform tossed carelessly onto the bed that could no longer support his weight, blankets strewn about on the floor and neatly arranged shelves of stones and minerals gathering dust. A lantern that hadn’t been used in some time sat upon a table next to his uneaten lunch.

Dawn closed the door behind her to avoid letting the heat escape, once again plunging the tent into darkness. She strode towards him before stumbling, her foot caught on one of the many blankets he had left lying around for his makeshift nest.

“May I put on a light?” the girl asked, clearly not wanting to impose.

Lian had no need for a light source in his current state and his partner was unbothered by the dim living space so it failed to occur to him that his guest would need one.

“My apologies, the lantern is on the table,” Lian said, mentally kicking himself for his lack of consideration.

Dawn stood on tip toes as she lit the lantern, the orange glow illuminating the cluttered abode.

“Please do forgive the mess. I wasn’t expecting company.”

She brushed it off as not a big deal as she sat down cross legged beside him, setting the satchel down on her lap. Goomy was happy to see her, sidling up and clamouring for attention. Dawn laughed as she pat his head. “Sorry, I didn’t bring anything for you.”

She returned her attention to the gift and opened her satchel.

“I went diving for rocks for your collection.”

He hadn’t expected that. Nobody really payed much attention to his lectures on minerals or the importance of stones. He was used to being politely tolerated when he tried to share his knowledge about ores and later admonished for boring people with long winded speeches.

“I thought there might be some interesting ones underwater you couldn’t find on land,” she explained, looking for a stone she deemed a good one.

Under normal circumstances Lian would have been stoked. He’d always wanted to investigate underwater rock formations and having a friend to spend the afternoon with, speculating about their composition and formation would have been the cherry on top.

It almost seemed cruel the opportunity would come now when he couldn’t fully appreciate such a gift with the loss of his eyesight. Never again would he be able to see the subtle flecks of mica in a sun stone or the deep blue of a water stone. Lian hoped his despondency wasn’t too apparent; it was a very thoughtful gesture and he didn’t want to come across as ungrateful.

“This one came from Heart’s Crag. I found it on the way over here,” Dawn said, passing one of the rocks over to him.

He accepted the gift and turned it over in his hands. It was a flat disk shaped stone, one that had been smoothed out by erosion at the bottom of a riverbed. A pleasing streak of quartz ran through it with a small pocket of crystals that hadn’t been worn down in the center.

Was it a pale grey, a dark black or perhaps a ruddy red? Would he forget what those looked like with time?

“So, what do you think?” Dawn asked, looking up at him hopefully.

He considered his response for a long minute.

“Thank you for the gift and for taking the time to visit me. I truly do appreciate your concern.“ Lian said finally, sounding too careful, too rehearsed.

He didn’t seem inclined to say much more, but Dawn wasn’t giving up that easily. Ignoring the implicit rejection, she searched her bag for another rock, one she brought specifically for this purpose.

Time to bring out the conversation starter.

“You know, I think I actually found gold!”

Dawn removed an ore from her bag and Lian’s senses informed him of the rigid cubes composing its shape, immediately guessing the girl’s mix up. She handed it to him for appraisal, confirming what he’d already suspected.

“This is pyrite, fool’s gold. The most obvious giveaway is the cubic structure, but if you look closely you can see striations on its surface,” he lectured his impromptu student, pointing to the parallel lines covering the exterior.

“Wow, you can tell all that just from touching it?” She sounded genuinely surprised.

“Sure I can, that’s child’s play! But this...“ he picked up the river stone to gesture with it. “I can’t tell you much besides that it’s probably igneous. The weight and density means it’s unlikely to be sedimentary and a cavity like this wouldn’t remain if it was metamorphic.”

Lian brought the stone in front of his face and squinted as if straining his eyes would cause them to miraculously start working again.

“I’d wager that a gas bubble was trapped in the quartz vein while it was still magma and a slow cooling process allowed larger crystals to form.”

It was clear from his tone that he didn’t consider the observation impressive. The girl looking up at him with wide eyes evidently disagreed.

“If you call that not knowing much then you must be a genius! It’s no wonder Lord Kleavor made you his warden!”

If the praise were coming from anyone else he would have agreed without hesitation. But praise from the girl turned dewott sitting cross legged in front of him caused his face to grow warm and he mumbled about how it wasn’t that impressive with uncharacteristic modesty.

Dawn rooted through her satchel again and brought out a handful of rocks. “What can you tell me about these?”

The two of them spent a solid hour going over the various stones collected from around Hisui, Dawn listening attentively as he lectured her about composition, formation and any other noteworthy facts.

Lian had a considerable base of knowledge to draw upon, but it was an interesting test of his abilities to identify minerals without visual information. He’d explain what he could discern about the rocks he had never seen before and account for how years underwater changed the ones he was familiar with, adding a new layer of complexity. He was surprised that he found himself enjoying the challenge.

Crystalline, gritty, porous; the shapes and textures told him a lot about their makeup and the environments they were formed in. He would speculate out loud and Dawn would interject with questions he was all too happy to answer.

A thought occurred to him. Did she deliberately choose stones that would be interesting from a tactile perspective? She’s so kind and intelligent...

Dawn finally brought out the last rock, a hunk of limestone embedded with many tiny shells. “They kind of look like helix fossils, but way smaller.”

“I wonder if they might have been juveniles of the species,” Lian pondered.

“No, baby omanytes are nowhere near that small,” Dawn said, recalling when Lucas bred one of his omastars and Professor Rowan’s lab was overrun by a swarm of the cute little buggers.

Lian looked at her incredulously. “How would you know?”

“Back home there were researchers that studied fossils. They could tell a lot about the pokémon they used to be and I was helping a professor with a research project.”

Dawn was careful not to mention she had live specimens to study. Explaining she was from a place where people had figured out how to revive species from fossils would sound far too suspicious, never mind telling anyone she was from the future.

Lian wasn’t wary or distrustful of her like some people were. There was already an amnesiac skyfaller that had been part of his clan for years, but Kleavor’s warden could still be rather prickly. A lot of people in Hisui were highly superstitious and Kamando had made it clear her place in Jubilife was conditional. No, the fewer people that knew, the better.

“I used to spend a lot of time in the Underground and I’d find a lot of fossils to bring back. I think you’d really like it there!”

Lian listened, enraptured as Dawn talked at length about the massive tunnel system that ran under her home region and how plenty of people built secret bases and went treasure hunting there. She spoke of rare evolution stones, rocks with mysterious effects on the weather, ores valued by collectors and fossils she sought after for her research.

“I’ve never found a skull fossil! My friends find them all the time, but I’ve never found one!” Dawn ranted, throwing her hands up in frustration.

Lian swung his head towards her, his eyes narrowing gave the impression he was staring straight at her.

“Didn’t you say you lost your memories?” he blurted out, his tone probably sounding more accusatory than he meant it to.

“Well, er-“

In her excitement, Dawn had forgotten she was supposed to be playing the role of a poor amnesiac girl.

“I- I started remembering some things recently!” she hastily explained.

A flash of inspiration struck her. “After my first battle with Ingo I started recalling some things about my home. Battles have been jogging my memory lately.”

Lian’s expression didn’t change. Dawn wasn’t sure if he believed the lie or not; either way he didn’t challenge her on it. It’s not like he could prove she was lying.

Itching to change the subject, she asked, “Actually, I’ve got a question. Obsidian is formed by volcanoes right? But I’ve seen scythers and gravelers carrying pieces of Black Augurite. So how does it get all the way to the Fieldlands?”

“There are large deposits in the Obsidian Fieldlands.” Lian accepted the change in topic, eager to discuss anything relating to his passions with such an inquisitive student. “That’s actually where it gets it’s name! My current theory is that they were picked up and moved by glaciers during the ice age.”

Goomy had started to doze off, content to leave the two of them to their geology lesson. A thick bubble of snot formed, expanding and deflating with his snores.

“But not all obsidian is Black Augurite. Every warden to a Noble Kleavor has to learn how to distinguish the evolution stone from regular obsidian.”

Lian had extended pretty far out of his shell, drawn up and excitedly gesturing for emphasis.

“Of course, I learned long before anyone ever considered me for the position. It was only natural Lord Kleavor recognized my aptitude and chose me to be his warden.”

He already had several pieces stored away for when the Lord of the Woods chose his heir. Lian was quite familiar with the largest and most powerful of his children, an alpha scyther that he allowed to share his territory.

They were quite an impressive specimen with a sturdy carapace and serrated scythes who the Lord wouldn’t even considered for the position, for the usual reasons alphas were passed over. Far too aggressive and preoccupied with their own standing, they held little appreciation for the duties and expectations the Noble title conferred. Lord Kleavor and his warden would just have to keep an eye on his offspring to determine which of his children was a worthy successor.

Would he ever ever get to present his Black Augurite to an heir? Lian tried to imagine tending to his Noble as a sliggoo and nothing seemed right. How could he possibly gather the plump beans for Lord Kleavor and his children, let alone present offerings covered in cold snot? A sliggoo couldn’t socialize baby scythers and get them used to humans.

Lian retreated back into his shell, his eyes barely visible from under the brim of his hat. “I might have to give mine away...” he said, his voice tiny.

“What? Why?” she exclaimed, her eyes wide with surprise and worry.

He took a deep breath, hoping his words would convey his conundrum and testiness wouldn’t creep into his voice. “I don’t believe I can continue being a warden in my current state. Lord Kleavor deserves to have a warden that can properly tend to him.”

Dawn stared at him quizzically. “Because you turned into a pokémon? I don’t know who you think would replace you then. Everyone has been infected.”

“Someone who wouldn’t offend Lord Kleavor with offerings covered in mucus!” Lian would have grit his teeth if he still had any, feeling a surge of irritation at her failure to comprehend his predicament.

She blinked. “Then wear gloves!”

Dawn had stood up to shout, startling Goomy awake, his sleep bubble bursting with a loud pop.

Lian was running out of patience. “I have to fill and bring a basket to Grandtree Arena at least twice daily, often more. How do you expect me to carry it?”

“You can work something out!” She let out an exasperated sigh. “Lian, what exactly is your plan here? Are you just going to spend the rest of your life sulking in your room?”

By now Lian was fuming at her, gripping the edge of his shell and wishing she could feel the rage that must be coming off of him in waves, lest he say something he would later regret.

Dawn continued. “Look, I don’t know what’s going to happen, maybe you can’t be a warden anymore. But there are problems of yours that you can solve.”

He had half a mind to yell at her to get out. This sort of discussion was exactly what he didn’t want and why he had turned everyone else away. Had she planned this from the start? Lian felt a sting of betrayal at her entering his home to talk under such false pretenses.

“All of this is easy for you to say when you’re still walking around, on two legs I might add, with all your senses working just fine and your skeleton intact.” Lian started, venom dripping from his words.

Goomy shrunk in on himself, trying to look as small as possible knowing this was going to turn ugly.

“But some of us have to face the indignities of not even being able to get out of our beds or homes without assistance. Do you know that when I have to relieve myself I need to have Paulina carry me away and bring me back? So don’t lecture me on what I should be doing when you had it easy!”

Dawn stared at him in stunned silence. He wasn’t sure if his rebuke had sounded as poignant as he intended or if he had sounded petulant to her.

“I had it easy? My mom and my friends don’t know where I am and probably think I’m dead and I’ll never get to see them again!”

Lian knew he screwed up. His anger quickly fizzled away and was replaced by an uneasy regret, but Dawn wasn’t finished yet.

“The Galaxy Team decided that I had to risk my life to save your Nobles and people still think that I’m to blame for all this! Do you think I can just mope around in my room?  No, I have to work my butt off every single day if I don’t want to be left to fend for myself in the wilderness! And I've got to do all of this while knowing I’m never going to go home and I don’t even get to be a human!”

Dawn stood there with her hands balled into fists and shaking, looking like she was about to cry.

If Lian thought his ire was palpable, her rage could have incinerated him on the spot. He wanted nothing more than retreat into his shell to hide in shame.

“I’m not going to stand here and argue with you over which of us has it worse. But don’t you dare tell me I had it easy!” Her voice cracked as she finished her tirade.

Lian struggled to find the words that could properly express the guilt prickling at him. How could he have said something so blatantly disrespectful to the girl that had calmed his Lord and scoured Hisui for gifts to cheer him up? It was several agonizingly long minutes before he found the ability to speak again.

“I’ve allowed my frustrations to get the better of me and I spoke out of turn. You have my sincerest apologies for such unwarranted hostility.”

The mechanical sounding apology seemed horribly inadequate and Dawn remained impassive. He made a point of turning his face towards her to create the illusion he was looking her in the eye.

“I lost my mother too, several years ago. I understand what it’s like knowing you’ll never see someone again.” He pulled down the brim of his hat. “I’m sorry.”

Dawn sniffed and wiped at her eyes with the back of her paw as she sat back down. “Neither of us wants things to be this way, but they are and there’s nothing we can do about that. Why don’t we focus on what we can change?”

She opted not to mention her studies with Volo into the myths of Hisui’s legendary hero or both of their search for the plates. The merchant believed something similar happened long ago and the plates held the solution to Hisui’s current predicament. While Volo was convinced and Dawn was inclined to trust his judgment, she remained cautiously optimistic without much else to go off of. She didn’t want to get Lian’s hopes up in case that didn’t pan out.

“What would you have me do?” Lian asked.

Goomy squeaked for his trainer’s attention and drew itself up as tall as possible, swaying slightly before tucking his head down and performing the slowest somersault one could imagine.

Lian understood what he was suggesting. He had seen sliggoos rolling on the sides of their shells like a wheel as their primary means of traversal. It was such a bizarre form of locomotion and seemed so disorientating. How were you supposed to stop or steer?

“That’s a great idea Goomy!” Dawn agreed with his partner. “Lian, why don’t we spend the rest of the day figuring out how you can roll around? It would probably help you feel better about yourself.”

Previously, he would immediately shut down at the idea whenever he considered his mobility needs, a sheer gut punch refusal to entertain the notion. But he needed some way to get around. What other choice did he have? Besides, wardens don’t sulk.

He let out a beleaguered sigh. “Sure, might as well roll down to Avalugg’s Legacy. That seems like a productive way to spend the afternoon.”

“I’m just trying to help...” Dawn looked away, hurt in her voice.

“I-I wasn’t being sarcastic!” he clarified. “I appreciate your help and I truly am sorry for acting like such an ingrate.”

She cheered up immediately. “That’s okay!”

The dewott girl marched over to the door and swung it open, a gust of cold air sweeping through the room.

Wait, right now?

“Don’t worry, you’ve got this!” Dawn grinned as she gave the thumbs up with both hands.

Now wasn’t the time to get cold feet. Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, he gripped the edge of his shell and hoisted himself upright in one motion, balancing precariously on his side.

Lian had no idea what to do next and remained there, paralyzed by indecision until he felt himself starting to tip over. He gave an alarmed shout and flailed uselessly before Dawn and Goomy rushed over to catch his fall, Dawn straining under the weight as she tried to push him over with her back and shoulder.

It was clear he couldn’t balance on his side and he needed momentum, so he withdrew into his shell and took a guess, throwing himself against the inside of the shell to roll forward. He moved forward slightly, and feeling encouraged, tried again.

He started to pick up momentum as he rolled towards the door, the weight lifted off of Dawn and Goomy. He felt like he was starting to get the hang of it as he tried to time his forward pitches, his friends cheering as he gained speed. With an air of confidence, Lian rolled straight out the door and into the frigid afternoon air of the camp. As the winding path through the settlement and tents dotting the hill stood before him, he realized his mistake.

The boy panicked as he slowly rolled over the crest of the hill with no way to stop or slow down. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion at the precipice and gave him plenty of time to understand what was going to happen next. One moment he was barely moving, then all at once his heart plunged as he rapidly gained speed and was sent barreling through the camp.

Lian shouted as hard as he could to warn anyone that might be in his path, his voice echoing inside his shell deafeningly. Pearl Clan members in various stages of metamorphosis looked up from what they were doing, eyes widening in alarm and diving out of the way of the steel juggernaut heading their way.

More voices joined in the panicked shouting as he smashed through a water barrel and a clothes line, scattering clean laundry to the wind. It barely even slowed him down as he whirled past clans folk exiting their tents to see what the commotion was.

His brain was swiftly processing every bump and dip in the terrain, but he had no idea what to do with it. There was no way he’d be able to follow the footpath that wound back and forth, instead his route to the camp’s exit would take him over several harsh drops and dangerously close to many people’s tents.

Experimentally, he tried to lean to the side to turn. When that threatened to tip him over, he over corrected and added a dangerous wobble to his trajectory, swerving wildly back and forth.

The pandemonium went unnoticed by a snorunt boy only a few years older than him who was preoccupied with chopping firewood. A bolt of panic went through him and he screamed at the top of his lungs for him to get out of the way, terrified his warning wouldn’t be heeded in time.

The kid looked up and dropped his axe before throwing himself against his tent, just barely clipped by the five hundred pound armoured wheel barreling past him. The kid screamed as they narrowly avoided being flattened.

The spike in adrenaline from the close call caused something to shift in Lian’s brain, some pathway that was previously closed was now open. Lian gasped as claws raked through his mind like those of a Fox, or something equally as angry and spiteful. They gripped and dug into him to tear him away from his body, to leave something else at the helm.

The world faded away as those claws dragged him down, made him small and rendered him a passenger in his own mind. Lian tried to scream but no sound came out, his voice and psyche swallowed up by the darkness.

----------------------------------------------------------------

It all made sense now. He knew exactly how far to lean in order to turn, how to compensate for every irregularity in the terrain. How to work with the momentum and how he could stop on a dime. His shell wasn’t a ball and chain restraining him, it was freedom, it was movement itself. Just as his legs had been before, his shell was a natural extension of himself; a self-contained world, a shelter, a shield and a weapon.

With his mastery, he’d see prey driven before him. Unable to escape in time before he chased them down, painful squeals as their bones cracked, bursting open and steam rising from the entrails as they were crushed. Delicious meat would spill out onto the ground then he and his odd pack would feast.

His kind were not avid hunters, typically feeding on plant matter and carcasses left behind by other predators. But he was no ordinary sliggoo, he was part of a pack of alphas, larger and more voracious than other members of their species.

He’d learn to hunt and hone his skills as a predator to prove he deserved his place amongst them. Dragging back the large kills dripping with viscera would show everyone that he wasn’t a runt that constantly needed to be looked after. Tearing and battering, he’d bloody himself fending off their rivals as many times as he needed to until they never looked down on him again.

And he’d do it because he loved them.

Because he wanted to provide for his kin, to be able to protect them when needed. His body flushed with warmth at the thought of his pack feeding from his kills, growing stronger from the meat together.

And he’d do it to the impress her.

The mighty huntress whose prowess in combat dwarfed that of even the Nobles. A warrior that presided over an enormous pack that brought so many alphas to heel and a roaming territory that spanned all of Hisui.

As he matured into a proper alpha, he would approach her looking to be accepted as her mate. Already she had brought gifts for him to decorate his nest;  she was considering him as a potential suitor, he was sure of it.

They were both juveniles, but had already proven so much to their respective packs. Fearless, they defied expectations and met challenges their contemporaries shied away from, ascending the ranks.

What had he done again? It didn’t matter; he would kill and kill again until everyone had their fill, then he would start his courtship.

He would need to bring an appropriate gift to demonstrate his caliber as a mate; fresh meat from a hunt would display his aptitude as a predator and show he was worthy of being consort.

He could start with the dewott that had wandered into their territory...

“WATCH OUT!”

The shout from the Survey Corps girl snapped Lian back to reality, with such alien, animalistic thoughts already fading from memory and leaving a cold uneasy dread in their place.

He had no time to ponder what happened as he was still steamrolling through the camp, now on a collision course with Gaeric’s tent.

The frozen obelisk was fast approaching, the boy rattling inside his shell with the ground becoming more uneven. Lian remained petrified as he rocketed over a large bump and he was suddenly launched airborne. He helplessly sailed through the air like a shot put, spinning head over tail as he braced for impact.

He ricocheted off the pillar of ice with a loud clang and landed hard some distance away on the packed snow, the crash knocking the wind out of him.

Dawn trotted down the slope towards the crowd that had gathered, carrying Goomy in front of her with two paws.

“-ian! Lian, are you alright?”

He was still too dazed to process what she was saying and was busy trying to understand the strange gap in his memory. There was an odd jump where one moment he was on the foot path towards the camp’s entrance, then the next he was careening towards the ice chrysalis.

“Lian?”

Right, he needed to answer her.

“I’m okay. It just stunned me.”

“No kidding! You got quite a bit of hang time!” she exclaimed, setting Goomy down beside her.

All things considered, Lian supposed that could have gone much worse. Already he was thinking of what he could have done better. The boy turned sliggoo now had some understanding of what proper direction and movement would entail, more than his practice session alone could have taught him.

Deep down, Lian knew that if he looked inside himself he’d find all the information he needed. His body would no longer feel like a stranger to him and he would be free to use any move he had at his disposal. Everything about being a sliggoo would become second nature.

Such a deal would come at a terrible cost, one he’d never willingly accept, but Lian was beginning to suspect that he frankly didn’t have a choice in the matter.

There was a loud crack that rang through the camp that sounded like an ice sheet breaking. Lian and the rest of the Pearl Clan immediately went on the alert, always vigilant for such a sound as it signalled the possibility of an avalanche.

The mountains surrounding the camp and their slopes were shaped in such a way that they usually directed avalanches away from the settlement, having been sculpted by a Noble Avalugg long ago. The camp was not at risk of being buried, but even the small ones that came down the settlement’s side could be dangerous.

The gathered clan members were trying to locate the source as they rounded up children and elders, prepared to evacuate them to safety until a girl with buneary ears shouted “Look!” pointing to a large fracture in the ice encasing Gaeric’s tent.

D-did... did I do that?

As the minutes crawled by, more tiny cracks spread out and bits of ice chipped and broke off. Though a slow process, the shards that fell off melted supernaturally fast, gone in a matter of seconds.

Any thought of spending the afternoon on practice was long gone as the Pearl Clan gathered, barely daring to breathe as they waited to see what emerged.

----------------------------------------------------------------

“It has trouble drawing a line between friends and food. It will calmly try to melt and eat even those it gets along well with.”

[blackjackkent]

So - on that note... let's go kill us a hag. :D

Rakha absolutely ransacks the whole teahouse, turning it upside down looking for anything useful - which turns out mostly to be healing potions.

(Sadly, none of the companions have actual in-game dialogue commenting on Rakha's terrible decision-making with regards to her eye getting ripped out, but that's okay, because I wrote my own anyway. XD )

Rakha also now has a permanent debuff called "Paid the Price":

My exact thought process on seeing this:

So this next fight will be interesting.

Following the tunnel behind the teahouse fireplace leads them down into an overgrown cave full of knotted vines, gnarled roots, and muck. Rakha, already keyed up and angry, shivers as she smells the death in the place; many have met their ends here - or, judging by the little Wyll has told her of hags, some other more terrible fate.

Ethel is waiting for them.

"You are as thick as they come, sweetness," she sneers. "That pretty little eye of yours is *mine*. Did you think you could sneak down here without my say-so? This is my personal playhouse and you don't have an invite. Get. Out."

"Or what?" Rakha growls.

"Oh, the cocky ones are my favorite to chew on!" Ethel crows gleefully. "Keep going, petal - and you'll find out."

She disappears with a keening, maniacal laugh.

-----

The lair is full of trapped people, all caught in various stages of their "rewards" at Ethel's hands. Rakha shows little interest in them - her attention is purely on finding Ethel and destroying her. She can feel the magic in the place, though - a dark and decaying sort, hanging like mold through the Weave. It does not sing on her skin, but drags, slimy and slick, malevolent.

A door at the room's far end is particularly saturated in that air of darkness; there's a face carved into its wood that stares at her unblinking.

Narrator: You feel crushing waves of fear as the presence within the door recoils. It can't let people through. Not again.

Rakha's jaw works. She has no interest in the emotions of the furniture, either - her hand is already on her quarterstaff, ready to smash the door apart. "No time to chat," she snaps. "I'm here to kill the hag."

Narrator: A scene appears in your mind: two paladins and a cleric marching through the door, shrouded in the glow of the divine. Screams of terror pierce the air.

An echo of Ethel's voice rings over the memory. "You let them in? Naughty. That's a decade for each. You're mine for thirty more years, petal..."

This tells Rakha nothing - except that Ethel's cruelty is not limited to Rakha herself. All the more reason to go forward and destroy her. "I mean it," she growls. "Let me through."

Narrator: The door stays silent. [ARCANA] Its form flickers, and you realize that the door is transparent.

(A/N: Pedantic nitpick - she definitely means "immaterial." But whatever. XD )

Rakha raises her eyebrows. "I can see through you. I can just walk right in."

Narrator: You see the hag, eyes bright with glee, as she sets fire to the door. With a jerk, you're pulled from the vision. The presence within shrinks - begging you not to run through it.

She ignores the thing's fear. Ethel will die, and then it won't matter anyway. Striding forward, she disappears past the shuddering barrier and deeper into the lair.

[hecula-propaganda]

I wanted to post this on AO3, but right now I think it sucks. Anyway, have a Dungeon Meshi-inspired nightmare.

~

The wolf’s fur smothered all senses.

Hector was blind and deaf, because his eyes were clouded by thick darkness, like a night without stars, and his own heart hammered in his ears; his limbs were pinned under the wolf’s paws, solid and strong and hefty and with long claws piercing his flesh; and he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe anything that wasn’t the stench of blood coming from the beast.

You’re safe, pet. You’re with me. There’s nothing to be afraid of. I will keep you warm, I will protect you from the world.

And Hector could do nothing but hang from the wolf’s reassuring words, to not fall down the pit of the unknown; there was nothing else he could do, not even stop the shivers that shook his bare body, exposed to the ghastly chill of the dead coming from the wolf.

Why do you fear me, Hector?

He couldn’t give an answer. There was no answer for such a question, not one that could be uttered. The wolf dragged its tongue on Hector’s throat, jaw, cheek, slimy and lukewarm due to his own blood: Hector groaned, and when he turned his head, he met the eyes of the animal, blazing like the flames that eat at people’s lives. Like a house on fire, he would be consumed.

I have molded this body, shaped it to my design. Don’t I have the right to savor it?

The wolf lifted a paw, allowing Hector to stroke its chest: the ribs protruded from it like jags. How long hadn’t it been feeding? How long would it take until it starved to death? The beast would have succumbed to death’s embrace without protesting, were it not for Hector, its anchor in the storm.

It wanted Hector – no, it needed him. He couldn’t let it suffer, not it, his only safe haven from the world that wanted to tear him to shreds. It was only fair that he gave himself in return.

His tongue and thighs had already been eaten as an appetizer, so Hector swallowed blood and bile and nodded without a word.

Good boy. You’re the only thing left that makes me proud.

The wolf probed Hector’s mouth with its long tongue, and he didn’t know if the taste of rot that invaded him came from it or from those words, as sweet as fruit left out in the sun.

The animal licked the stump, not paying mind to Hector writhing in disgust at the sickly intimate contact. He couldn’t reciprocate even if he wanted to, he wasn’t allowed; all that was in his power was to open wide his jaw as much as he could, to let the wolf in, he’d better not touch it with his teeth, only wolves could bite…

Air. Sweet, stale air. Hector inhaled all the air that his body could take in, all too aware that the relief would be short-lived and the feast would soon begin.

How did he arrive there? Thoughts and memories were blurred by a thick fog. He only knew that the wolf would have died without him, and there was no higher honor and devotion than to give yourself to such noble creature. It was what he was born for.

The wolf rubbed its humid nose against his cheek, and for one second, Hector closed his eyes and welcomed the sincere affection from the creature, like only it could give him.

And then sharp fangs tore the flesh of his stomach.

Hector screamed. He screamed until his chest heaved, but from his body only a feeble wheeze came out, and it only agitated him more, no, he wanted to scream, how could he not even do that?

The muscles stiffened in anticipation of an agony that did not come, in truth, Hector did not feel a thing, except for the long snout of the wolf digging inside his viscera, unraveling his intestines and ripping them rapaciously, ripping his stomach apart and turning his liver into mush; the mess spilled out of him, as the beast made its way deeper and deeper inside him.

The cold seeped through him, seizing him in an inescapable grasp, but he could hardly shake from it.

Sapped of all of his strength, Hector no longer even had the energy to thrash around to get away from the revolting sensation of the wound being stretched open, the flesh giving out to that foreign body entering him.

Foreign? The power that flows in your veins… that’s me. Don’t you feel it singing for me?

Oh yes he did, his own blood singing, crying out, calling its source by name – he couldn’t stand it, but couldn’t deny it either, the bond wrapped around both of them, the life flowing from one body to the other.

We are inextricable, dear.

Hector was part of the beast, akin to a limb, and to the beast he was destined to return. Nothing of him, his body, his mind, his power, his soul, truly belonged to him.

Was for that reason that his demon friends had guided him to the castle? Was that what they meant, when they had reassured him that that was the only place where he could exist?

Hector observed without seeing the wolf chewing and swallowing pieces of him down his swollen gullet, with what appeared to be a smile on his muzzle caked with blood.

Only he could satiate and satisfy it. Only it truly loved him.

He should have been happy, he thought, looking at the hole in his stomach.

Aren’t you glad to join me again, flesh of my flesh?

Did it matter if he was? The wolf would have feasted anyway. It was for its sake.

The wolf kept making its way through him, its breath at last hot enough to keep Hector warm. His ribs snapped like twigs under the strong jaws of the animal, crack, crack, crack, nothing in him could oppose resistance. Until Hector felt its tongue caress his heart, like a gentle promise.

No, not that! Please, I beg you!

You offered this to me a long time ago, with all the love you could keep inside it. Don’t you remember? It will be safe with me.

No… leave something to me… don’t take everything for yourself… What will be left of me?

Hector’s heart was kept safe behind the wolf’s teeth, reduced to thin shreds. This time, he didn’t even attempt to scream. It was all pointless. He would not live for longer, and it didn’t matter anymore.

That used to be mine…

You’re delicious. My Hector. My precious Hector, my best creation. I can’t be without you, and you can’t be without me. I gave you life, and you’ll return it to me.

Despite the stillness of his torn chest, the wolf’s words no longer reached him. They were supposed to fill the void inside him with life and joy, it promised him; but the white-hot heat that seared him did not come from the animal, no, something else, something scary was wriggling where his guts used to be.

Teeth clamped down on Hector’s throat, to lacerate it and finally end his suffering. Without air, without blood, without anything that made him human, Hector lay limp and weak like the empty shell that he was; and oh, if only hadn’t he given himself to his wolf, if only he kept his heart for himself instead of looking for a person worthy of it! If only had he been born a wolf, and bit the beast that devoured him…

Hector opened his eyes with a gasp, and he was alive.

In the mist of sleep, the reality became clearer at every blink: he was in his bed, he was home, he was whole, and Rosaly was sleeping peacefully to his side, an arm stretched across his chest where his heart was pounding.

It was just a nightmare; at every breath, the details became muddier, confused, not important. He let them slide off his fingers.

Hector passed a hand on his throat, and not even the small bumps under his fingertips could upset him, because despite everything, he was alive, and he got his heart back.

Not resisting the impulse of leaving a kiss on the forehead of his beloved, Hector fell back into a dreamless sleep.

[silverstormsxx]

Poor, Delicate Soul - An Undertale OC Fanfic

The monsters of the Underground came in many shapes and sizes. Goats, skeletons, ghosts... you name it, there was probably a corresponding monster.

As such, it should be no surprise that there existed a species of monsters who were indistinguishable from thick, slimy piles of inky pitch-black goop.

You and your family lived in the dark crevices of Snowdin, buried deep within its frosted woods. None of you had the capacity to stand the light that seemed to seep into every corner of the Underground, so you were forced to remain in the darkness for the rest of your life.

How wonderful.

...

Sometimes, when you were tired of the endless tea parties that you held in order to keep yourself entertained in the unending blackness, you drew.

Nothing fancy, mind you. Just little doodles and sketches of what you wanted your life to be like.

For one, you wanted an actual body. Preferably, a feminine one. One with long, luscious raven hair that shone in the sunlight (In your fantasies, Monsterkind was set free from their banishment and living happily on the surface with no problems whatsoever. Also, you could withstand the light radiated from the sun for.. whatever reason) and pale, unnaturally white skin. Your eyes were an an empty and bottomless void-like ebony, to go along with your hair - and you wore.. a dress.

Not just any dress, no no no - a dress you had seen in a dream once, when you were much, much younger - around 4 years old. One you had never forgotten, and one that could never leave your mind, even for a moment.

The dress itself was the most glamorous thing you had ever seen. It was an alluring shade of african violet, covered in every inch with sparkles that lit up the entire room like a disco ball. The gloves that went with it were an exquisite shade of floral lavender, similarly shining. It was a gown fit for a star. A gown fit for you, and only you.

In your dreams, you were a radio star. Despite your obvious and apparent beauty, the thought of appearing on camera made your very SOUL quiver in fear. You would be able to ramble on and on about a variety of topics - tea, fashion, makeup... whatever the case may be.

You would be adored by everyone else in the world. You would shine so brightly that you would escape the darkness that had held you captive for as long as you can remember...

And look into the light for once.

But that was merely a fever dream. One filled with hope, yes, but still merely a delusion to keep yourself from going insane.

You lifted your pencil off the paper you were doodling on. The paper in question had a large stain on it - a glob of your murky goop. Which then began to spill onto the table, creating a huge mess in the process.

... You had gotten used to this over the years fortunately.

Sighing, you began to shuffle your way towards your bedroom, dragging yourself along the floor.

You would deal with the.. situation with the coffee table after a quick nap to clear your mind, regardless of what your parents thought. You were much too tired to deal with it now.

Slipping your way underneath your door frame, you were about to begin the arduous process of tucking yourself into bed before a thought crossed your mind.

You had been born with a little extra goop on you than your parents. It didn't interfere with your daily life, of course, nor were you oversized - but it was still notable.

Maybe if you used that extra bit of matter to your advantage...

You begin to make your way towards your mirror, a new feeling blooming within yourself.

Staring at your reflection, which currently showed a useless, hideous, pathetic puddle that should've been swept up a long time ago, you began to internally visualize your true self.

I want to reach the hearts and SOULs of billions, you told yourself. You could feel your body beginning to mold itself into a humanoid form. I want everyone to hear my voice and think of the woman who glowed brighter than even the shinest star.

You opened your eyes (Since when did you close them? And since when did you even have eyes, for that matter? Bleh, who cares?) and in the mirror..

You saw someone beautiful.

---

Sans was having a normal day, all things considered.

Papyrus was hanging out with Undyne in Waterfall, Grillby had warned him to get to paying off his tab yet again, and he was taking a peaceful, relaxing nap in a new store he found a few days ago in the woods even though he knew damn well he was supposed to be on patrol.

All in all, everything was going as per usual.

He didn't know why he thought otherwise.

"must've just been me being a bonehead." He laughed at his own joke, before promptly yawning and closing his sleepy eyes.

...

"Hhhhhh..."

What was that?

He opened his eyes, slowly rubbing the sleeping off them.

"don't ya know it's rude to wake someone up-" He began, only to immediately stop talking when he felt something dribbling down his leg.

His blurry vision cleared shortly after, and he met face to face with a monster made entirely out of a strange, liquidy substance.

They appeared to be taking on a vaguely human-looking form, though they were clearly having trouble maintaining it, judging by the fact that they were actively dripping and leaking onto the snow, painting it an abyssal black.

Their eyes had no kind of light in them whatsoever, and yet they looked at him with such manic intensity that made him instinctively tense up, even of he kept the same composed, laid-back demeanor he always had.

"Hhhhi.." They eventually managed to force out, and by now he suspected that their vocal cords were somehow melded with their throat, preventing them from speaking properly, "Mmmmy nnname issssssss Vvvioletta..."

They - Violetta, he reminded himself - began to creep closer to him, and their eyes glinted in the light of Snowdin.

"Wwwwhat isssssssss yourssssssss?"

---

[hyperrealisticblood]

some thoughts about wally and the various hidden text on the website:

so we all know the hidden text on the about us page right?? our good friend the hidden text on the about us page

realistically its probably from a whrp staff member because the "i want it out im going to get it out" probably refers to the effects of The Mold and the ringing and stuff BUT.

i bring this up because ive been thinking about the blacklight messages from the staff only page, namely this one, which implied that at least some of them were written by wally

but if thats the case, whats with this one talking about how disgusting everything is, which is mostly something the restoration team talks about?

and this one, is it someone from the restoration team apologizing to someone for inflicting The Mold upon them, or is wally the one apologizing??

we know these two are almost definitely from wally, so is it only the ones in all caps that are from him?? but whats with the signature then?? why make it so unclear which person is talking in which message???

and then i remembered the other instances of hidden text on the website: the messages from wally in the guestbook (the text from wally is in the alt text, its hard to read normally)

so we know wally has a history of communicating via text that has to be highlighted, AND in text that isnt in all caps.

so which messages are from wally, and which are from someone on the restoration team?? or are they ALL from wally??? and like. what is blacklight writing if not the physical equivalent of text that has to be highlighted to be read???

but why would wally be getting letters that are nasty and yucky and slimy?? the restoration team is the one who gets sent letters, not him. is text you have to highlight just a common way of hiding stuff and isnt indicative of one specific person speaking?? am i massively overcomplicating things?? did the team just kinda bungle that up in terms of narrative clarity?? should i sit my ass down and go back to writing yaoi instead of trying and failing to be a theory boy?? am i not at all qualified for this line of work?? definitely but that isnt gonna stop me from trying and making you all read my theories that read more like some shit from house of leaves than anything intelligent

uh. feel free to share your thoughts!!! sparkle on!!!!

[potionpeddlerpatchy]

Hi Patchy!!

For the Rummage Sale, can I get the intriguing book of old please? It looks very interesting, indeed 💚

Hello Nuggie, how truly happy it is for me to see you here; I have always enjoyed you company and have been grateful for your patronage from the very start!

More than happy to have you browse and look upon the many books I have here in my collection. And, if I may, I do suggest that deep blue book on the far right over on that shelf there. I have a feeling you will like it. 🔮

You sighed, loudly to yourself, as you turned away from the few ladies that were huddled together in the courtyard gardens. Though you could not remember what they had said, for your mind tried to piece together how you managed to get to where you were in the first place, you knew it was over something trivial and not worth your time.

That was the charm of courtly like. How the way of court always both amused and caused you chagrin. It was merely the nature of people to want to gossip and spread large tales; after all how else where they to fill such long days where they could not wish to bring themselves down low enough to work. Though at first you found the tall tales spread out to all those in course, about various people, to be rather fun. Easily your captivation was taken by these stories, whether true or not, and you could not help but wish to hear more and more.

Though, as time wore on, you grew to find such acts of gossip to be rather tedious. The upkeep to figure out who was not speaking to who, who had broken the trust of who, and all the little details in between to exhausting and thus you grew out of such a childish thing.  Sadly, as you were to quickly find out, just because you grew bored of it, did not mean the others in court shared you disillusionment. And, thus, day in and day out you heard of things such as courtship drama, spats that were between lords and ladies, to even things more wild like spells and curses.

Like today, when those ladies you had just scoffed at, had just pulled you into their small circle to allow you the chance to hear the latest news that had befallen onto the court. That of a Prince, from the Southern Isles, who had begun his travels to see and meet you. How he had gotten turned around, and who had then offended a poor woman who had offered him aide, and thus she placed a curse on him. And now? Well, the cursed had turned him into a frog, and he is now stuck to roam the earth as one – with his only hope that being a kiss from a fair maiden in order to break him free of such a miserable existence.

The story, to you at the very least, was not at all humorous nor in your realm of believability. Merely just mocking fodder against a travelling royal, one that you were sure these ladies did not life in the slightest, to try and mold the minds of all who hear it into believing that he was nothing more a slimy frog. How it made you roll your eyes as you continued on your way, to tend the duties set forth for you that day, as you begin to ponder just how little respect the people in your court had for the foreign sovereignty.

Though as the weeks passed, and the Prince still and yet to appear within your kingdom, you began to think the tall tales were true.

Prince Bakugou, the only son and heir to the Southern Isles, was meant to visit your kingdom at the end of the Spring months, just before the summer was to come and kiss your fields with its warmth. The reason for the visit was the hope of some kind of relationship between you and him. Whether political or romantic it did not matter, all that both of your parents cared for was an alliance between their children to ensure that the years they have spent building and strengthening their kingdoms would not them tumble down over night once they had left.

But now it was well into summer, and there had been no news as to where he was now. The only story you could hear, the only which anyone would give an ounce of credit to, was the tall and ridiculous tale that he had been cursed into a frog. For anyone knew, he may already be within the kingdom, just no one would know as he is hidden in plain sight.

It caused worry to make purchase into your soul. Worried that a terrible fate had befallen upon him and that now you would never have the chance to meet the man who had given you all those wonderful letter; the ones filled with hopes and dreams he had held onto for when his future would unfold. The kind, yet sweet ones, he would bestow on holidays and especially your birthday. As they years moved on, you could not help but think that perhaps something was budding in this friendship you had made, especially when he sent a portrait of himself before he set forth to your kingdom; a reminder of what he looked like.

Your heart fluttered as you remembered that letter. How he made so many declarations, ones over how he would sweep you off your feet and perhaps even offer his hand in courtship should all go well. And the warmth that bloomed in your chest when you looked upon his handsome, painted face, for the first time. He had grown into a handsome man, and you couldn’t help the giddiness that filled you as counted down the days before you could meet.

If all went well, you would marry him. At least that is what you hoped. Yet, with each sunset brought a new level of sorrow to filled you as you came finally came to the same conclusion everyone else had made.

Prince Bakugou was not coming.

And though everyone tried to reassure you otherwise, you knew it to be true when the Summer Solstice came and went; signally the beginning of summer, and he was still nowhere to be seen. You took it all with grace, setting forth a smiling face for those in your court – to not allow them to worry further over their future ruler. Yet, when the sun had gone down, and you were allowed yourself to be along by the riverbed, that was when you would cry and pray to whatever god that wished to take pity on you to allow you some closure. Though, when the sun broke the next day and nothing had changed you assumed that all your prayers went unanswered as you went about the same day once more.

Anger filled you after awhile. Anger over a budding romance lost, over how no one seemed to care about it, and over how the gods seemed to mock you each night as they ignored your pleas. It caused you, during the last night in August, to take the small ruby ring the Prince had gifted you when the year began, and throw it out into the river. To watch it sink within the many roots of the linden tree, out of your reach; a cathartic end the suffering you had endured.

Yet your sorrow did not follow. Just as quickly as the water had taken it, you felt regret fill you as you sunk to your knees to try and retrieve one of the only pieces of him that you had. Though you tried to take hold of the beautiful ring once more, it was always just out of your reach. Once more, tears welled into your eyes as your eyes as you crumbled to your knees; uncaring of the water that lapped at your dress, you wailed into the open hair of the night.

It was only broken when the small croaking of a frog sounded by you head. You sniffled, unburying your head from where you had caged it in your arms, to look upon the creature that seemed so curious over your plight that it had to break you from your sorrows.

“Hello there,” Your weak voiced called to it, watching as it hopped just a little closer to you “what brings you here?”

As a moment passed, then another, you couldn’t help but chuckle; finding humor in the fact you thought the frog would be able to speak a response to you. You wiped some of the tears that stained your face before you looked back at the little creature before you.

“Suppose it was my wailing that brought you forth.” You mused, glad to at least have a form of company at this moment “And I suppose you are wondering why I am acting in such a way.”

You paused, as you watched the frog blink once then twice, before continuing one; find that small movement a reassurance for you to keeping the conversation going; to answer the question you had ask on its behalf.

“It’s a long story, so I shall spare you the silly details” You mumbled, clearing your throat of the rasp that was held within it before continuing “But a man I loved has yet to come here, to see me. He told be the beginning of Summer he would make his appearance, but now we are at the end of it and he still has not come. In anger I threw the ring he gave me into this river, but I did not mean it. And now it sits just below the roots of that linden tree, out of my reach.”

You stopped for a moment, to even your breathing and allow you the chance to control your tears before the began falling once again “I just want it back, but there is no way for me to get it back.”

“What if I got it for you?” The frog replied, his voice croaked with underuse as it continue to look upon you.

Your breath hitched and lodge itself in your throat, it caused you to be unable to both speak and breathe as you eyes widened in shock over the situation at hand. Never before had an animal given you a verbal response, least of all a frog. It left your paralyzed as you tried to come up a response, though your mind was moving too quickly to figure out an answer to all this to do so.

“W-what…?” Was all you could come up with as you swallowed away the small panic that filled you.

“What if I got it for you?” It repeated, though the tone had changed – it was less curious and more agitated over your reaction.

“I…. I would be grateful, in – in your debt even?” You replied, as you watched the frog hop toward the tree is question.

You watched as he jumped onto the many roots that stood proudly out of the water, making comfortable purchase above where your precious ring now resided “I can get it for you,” The frog croaked “But you must pay me back in kind.”

“A kindness for a kindness?” You uttered, ensuring your understanding of the deal the frog wished to make; when you watched it nod its head to your words you spoke out again “W-well what could I do for you? I am not sure how I could repay a frog such as yourself.”

“A kiss.”

“A… a what?” “A kiss” The frog repeated, tone absolute and proof to you that you hadn’t misheard.

“Just one kiss?” You asked, disbelief washing over you as you watched the frog nod its head once more before resolution filled your being – after all what was one tiny kiss in return for you to get your precious ring back? “Alright, I’ll do it”

Without a second thought, or another between the pair of you, the frog drove into the cold waters below. You held your breath in anticipation as waited for it to resurface, for your ring to come back to you.

Jubilation filled you as you cried out in happiness when the frog resurfaced, your ring within it’s mouth. You smile grew wider with each hop it made back toward you. Unable to help yourself, once the frog was within arms length you took hold of it, bring it up to your lips for a swift peck upon its head.

You cried out in surprise when a pink haze of smoke greeted you, and filled your senses completely; you let go of the frog in your hands in favour of getting away from it all; to free your lungs of the strain of having to breath in such a heavy substance.

Though, as you stumbled away you noticed a shape within the dense fog; and as it all started to slowly go away, to disappear and have the world around be as it once was, the shape became clearer. It look like a man. One tall and well built. Enraptured you moved yourself closer once again, your arm reached out to see if it was truly real. When you fingertips brushed against the skin of the man’s arm, you knew it to be true.

~

“Do you like it?” A sweet voice asked you, causing you to look up from the tiny and worn pages of the deep blue book you had taken off the shelf.

“Umm..” You cleared your throat as you felt the heat of embarrassment kiss your cheeks “Y-yes it’s a really good read”

The woman, the peddler who owned the shop you had stumbled across and decided to take the leap and go in – to see the many wares and trinkets they owned and were giving away – merely smiled at your response “Well, if you truly think so, then by all means take it.” You began to protest, not wanting to take something so wonderful as a book that transports so completely into whatever story was that labelled upon it, but she merely shushed you with a wave of her hand.

“Nonsense, you will take it!” Her smile grew wider as if she knew a secret you didn’t “After all, the book would be very unhappy if you did”

I would not be surprised, my good friend, if you were to stumble across a frog on your way home tonight. Perhaps it to, is the man your heart has been pining after? 🔮

I do hope you wish to keep what you found, for all 'sales' are final

[asknarashikari]

Emu: You're Houtaro-kun's teacher right?

Minato: Yes, and you're Dr. Emu Hojo, Kamen Rider Ex-Aid.

Emu: I've just got one thing to say to you.

Emu: You better not turn out to be a slimy sneaky snake or frog if you know what's good for you.

Keiwa: Emu-sensei, that's not necessary.

Emu: Keiwa-kun, you know its necessary.

Emu: Kekera was supposed to support you, but instead he went with trying to mold you into his ideal Kamen Rider, and I hope Minato-sensei doesn't do that.

Emu: And if you do end up turning into Kekera, well Hyper Muteki is here.

----

do you think Minato-sensei turn out to be a Kekera? or would he be a true blue heroic character?

I think it's too early to speculate on that.

On one hand, he does seem to keep trying to drive this whole "Chemmies disrupt the natural order" philosophy on Houtaro, despite the fact that pretty much everytime a Chemmy gets corrupted it's because of humans and/or the Dark Sisters.

But he's also bent the rules a lot for him, like how he let the kid keep Sabosuke's flower and how he didn't immediately erase Ryo and Hijiri's memories when he should have, not to mention the way he even let Houtaro become an alchemist to begin with.

I think the next arc will be quite telling as to what he really thinks about Houtaro. Would he defend Houtaro against the allegations toward him? Would he believe these people who for all intents and purposes are his superiors out of hand? Or would he stay neutral and allow Houtaro and his actions to speak for themselves?

(I'll be honest though, I won't be terribly surprised if the one accusing Houtaro of being a spy turned out to be the spy... you know what they say about accusations being confessions...)