#its just i barely remember a good chunk of it its been so long

[vaporclan]

I know this is my comic account but it's the account that has the most followers on it and I'm really scared for my cat and don't want to be alone right now.

I'm at a loss. He's been to the vet 3 times this month, and I'm completely drained of money.

I suspect there's something wrong with my cats mouth, and paid for a vet visit. The vet had a quick look at his mouth and told us to drop it, and that his teeth are fine. But...

I just. It's the only conclusion I can come to after witnessing his symptoms.

He's throwing up - usually bile. He's gone so skinny because he just won't eat anything even remotely solid. If it's got bits in it, he won't eat it.

He's not lethargic. There's NO DIARRHEA. His pooping is 100% normal, doesn't strain or anything. Completely solid poops.

His appetite is NOT gone - he TRIES to eat food and struggles. He tries solid food and immediately gives up because it's too crunchy. He TRIES to eat his wet food and gives up once getting to the chunks. HE TRIES!!! It's not a lack of appetite! He's starving!

Just 5 minutes ago I saw him walk over to the bowl of dry food, try to eat it and immediately give up. Its not an appetite issue! He is *struggling* to eat it! This is his favourite dry food, btw.

A couple weeks ago, I gave him one of his favourite treats - he was Excited when I opened the packet. He tried to chew it, failed and gave up. This was my first suspicion.

He is 13 years old and has a snaggletooth and has had it for as long as I've known him, but was not born with it. He got it back when he was my sister's cat and was attacked by her dog (He no longer lives with dogs!). They never took him to the vet for this.

I vividly remember taking him to get a checkup last year, and the (more expensive, might I add!) vet saying he could possibly have some dental issues.

So why would this second (cheaper) vet, after a quick look at his mouth, tell me it's 100% not dental and it's likely a gut issue? And then jump straight to "it could be CANCER" after a less than 2 minute long inspection? They barely looked at him!

(I went to the cheaper vet because I ran out of money this month, and they've been good in the past...?)

Why is he trying and failing to eat solid food? If he was turning his nose up at any and all food, I'd agree with the idea that he's got a lack of appetite. But he's trying *so* hard to eat.

I dunno, I get a lot of mouth pain myself and I can attest it is very difficult to eat solid food when it gets painful. Maybe it's confirmation bias, but....

‼️ I heard a CRUNCHY noise coming from his mouth when he was eating KITTY YOGURT 2 days ago.

The way the cheaper vet looked at him for less than 2 minutes and immediately shut us down, told us it's 100% not dental issues and he might have CANCER instead and immediately gave us some meds without explaining what the medication even does makes my stomach feel a little queezy. My gut is telling me something is not right here.

He has a heart murmur. I looked up the medication given to us by the vet - prednisolone - and after some impulsive Googling found out it can make heart conditions worse and should be given with caution after an ecg. They didn't even SUGGEST an ecg. They didn't take his heart murmur into account at all. Again, the appointment lasted *2 minutes*.

Am I crazy? I feel all sorts of crazy.

I get paid like, £600 in a few days. The cost of a dental x-ray is anywhere from £200 to £400. And that's Just The X-Ray. If he needs teeth out, that's an extra £400, and where am I gonna pull that money from?

I get paid another £600 or so on the 28th.

He's so fucking skinny, man..

I don't want to make another donation post and I really truly do not have it in me to draw commissions right now. I don't know what to do.

[effetsecndaires]

— 𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞. (𝟐)

➺ PAIRING | sanemi shinazugawa x reader

➺ CONTENT | mention of injuries and needles, this is mostly shinobu x reader tbh... but sanemi is here dw ☝🏻 word count: 1,5k ish

➺ NOTE | read part 1 + I'll be tagging people who showed interest in a part 2 below! also it's currently 4am, I'm terribly sorry if this turned out awful 💀

“Miss Y/N!”

You raise your head to see Kiyo, Sumi, and Naho rushing towards you, worry etched onto their faces as you cross the gates of the Butterfly Estate. A Kakushi is carrying you on his back, his steps steady yet urgent as your crow leads the way.

"Urgent! Injured in battle! Right leg severely damaged! Left hand missing fingers! Immediate medical attention required!" it squawks, its wings beating rapidly as it nervously circles above then flutters down to perch on a roof nearby.

Everything happens so quickly.

One moment you're hanging limp on a Kakushi's back, clinging to consciousness for dear life — the next, you're being gently lowered onto a stretcher, a needle swiftly inserted into your arm. Your uniform is all torn and bloodied, barely hanging onto your battered body. A chunk of your skirt has been ripped and used as a makeshift bandage to stop some of the bleeding on your leg, but it really hasn't been doing much to help.

You're whimpering in pain when Sumi hurries to your side, her hand coming to support your head while Naho starts unrolling fresh bandages, her hands trembling slightly but steadying as she works.

"You'll be alright, Miss Y/N!” Kiyo reassures you, though her voice wavers slightly. "We need to get you inside and properly treated!”

As the Kakushi lift the stretcher, you feel a wave of dizziness wash over you. The Butterfly Estate's familiar surroundings start to blur along with your vision as you’re being carried towards the main infirmary, the scent of medicinal herbs growing stronger with each step.

You want nothing more than to reassure everyone, to tell them that you’ll be okay, that it really isn't as bad as it looks... but the pain and exhaustion only make you drift in and out of consciousness. You can’t fool anyone—not even yourself.

The last thing you see is Shinobu stepping forward and nodding to the Kakushi as they carefully set you down on the treatment table, her gentle voice following:

"I'll take it from here.”

–

Your eyes squint in the harsh light as you look around and try to make sense of your surroundings. The sun makes it hard to see and your head feels fuzzy, the world around you swimming in and out of focus.

You barely catch the sound of your crow’s wings as it flies away to alert the hashiras of your awakening, the flapping quickly fading into the distance.

How long have you been here for?

You remember fighting an upper moon, but everything after that is a blur. You can’t even remember how or when you were brought to the Butterfly estate. Is this even Shinobu’s estate? Or did another pillar find you and carry you to theirs?

You barely have time to properly emerge when you're met with a gasp of your name and a familiar red-haired boy rushing to your side. You blink, watching as his hands hover uncertainly before resting gently on your good arm.

“Tanjiro,” you manage to whisper, smiling faintly.

“You're awake! How are you feeling? We were so worried about you!” Tanjiro exclaims, his eyes shining with their usual tenderness as you reach out to pat his head. Behind him, Genya appears, his expression a mixture of relief and anxiety.

“I’m alright... Just a little tired and achy. How long have I been out for?”

“You've been sleeping for a week.” Genya responds.

“A week?!”

Shit. This can't be good. So many things can happen in the span of a week. The thought of having left everyone down fills you with a terrible feeling. What if one of the villages needed reinforcements while you were asleep? What if more demons had attacked? Are all eight of the the pillars still alive?

Your mind races with worry, your brain feeling like it's about to overheat.

When you finally find it in yourself to start asking questions, the door to your room opens and Shinobu calmly walks in.

“Shinobu! How… how's everyone?”

"Everyone’s fine. We've all successfully returned from our missions so far, you don't have to worry." your mentor responds.

"What about the slayers that were sent to back me up? I… so many of them were injured."

Shinobu's expression grows a little somber as she nods. "There... There's been a few losses. Oyakata-sama wants to visit their resting place with you, once you're back on your feet," she continues gently. Your heart clenches in your chest, but you nod regardless.

"I’m sorry. I should've done more to protect them.”

Your crow returns and sets on your belly, your unharmed hand coming to pet it.

"You did everything you could. Surviving an encounter with an Upper Moon is already impressive." Shinobu adjusts the blankets around you, her hands deft and practiced. She then gently places a hand on your shoulder, providing some much needed comfort. "You need to focus on getting better so you can help us save more lives when the time comes."

"...Okay," your voice trails off, uncertainty coloring your tone. You find yourself staring at your bandaged hand and leg for longer than necessary, the reality of your condition only now sinking in.

This was bad. Really, really bad.

What purpose could you possibly serve now, with two missing fingers and possible lingering damage to your body? How are you supposed to wield your sword in this condition? Will you even be able to return to your position as a Hashira?

"Rest is essential for you now," Shinobu’s kind voice interrupts your train of thoughts. "I did my best to get rid of the poison in your body and clean your wounds, but you're going to need several months of rest to make a full recovery."

Just then, the door to the room slides open with a loud, forceful thud. All four of you startle, and you wince as the sudden movement sends a jolt through your injured ribs. You glance toward the door with a scowl, meeting Sanemi’s gaze.

Jesus Christ. Does he always have to be such a brute all the time?

Shinobu's fists tighten at her sides, a vein popping on her forehead at the sudden interruption - though her signature smile remains.

The Wind Hashira stands there for a moment, his jaw clenching at the sight of you awake and his younger brother standing beside your bed.

To your relief, he doesn't make a scene. That's a first.

Instead he goes to stand beside Genya, and although he seems to completely ignore him, he doesn't look nearly as angry with him as he was the last time you saw the two of them interact. The sight of it warms your heart, and you allow yourself to lay back and relax a little more.

"You could've gotten yourself killed. What were you thinking, fighting an Upper Moon by yourself!?" Sanemi's voice is gruff, filled with a mix of anger and concern.

Well. One thing’s for sure, he’s still the Sanemi you know.

"How the hell did you even survive this?" he continues, looking you up and down from the missing fingers on your hand to your severely damaged leg, and your overall battered body.

You let out a soft sigh, choosing your words carefully. "It was a close call, but the sunrise saved me. I wouldn't be here if the demon had attacked just ten minutes earlier." you reply, trying to keep your tone light despite the gravity of the situation.

Sanemi grunts in response, his eyes narrowing as he takes in your injuries. "You’re damn reckless, you know that? You should've told me this was a solo mission."

"I was just doing my job, Sanemi." you say quietly, your gaze shifting to your crow who's still enjoying headpats. "The village was already in shambles when I got there and half the people hadn't been evacuated. If I hadn’t intervened when I did, more lives would have been lost. Besides, I didn't think it would end like... that."

Sanemi sighs, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "Just...dammit, try and be more careful next time," he mutters. "Rengoku’s spot is still vacant, we can’t afford to lose another Pillar."

You smile faintly as you nod, appreciating the unspoken concern behind his words. "Yeah… I know."

"It's safer to go on missions in pairs right now. Those fuckers are getting stronger by the day, and we’ve lost too many promising swordsmen because they were out there alone trying to prove something."

As the room falls into a more comfortable silence, you notice Genya glancing nervously at his brother. He's been dead silent this whole time, not wanting to bother or interrupt. Sanemi’s eyes flicker towards him, a rare softness in his gaze — though it is short-lived.

He rolls his eyes and lets out an annoyed tut before reaching out to briefly ruffle his brother’s hair, calloused hand tousling the mohawk as he turns to leave. You don't miss the soft, almost shy smile that stretches across Genya’s lips, or the way his eyes shine a bit brighter.

Sanemi pauses at the doorway, casting a final look back at the two of you.

"I can't always be around to make sure you two idiots don’t get into more trouble," he mutters, though his tone carries an obvious hint of affection beneath the gruffness. "Watch each other’s backs, and for the love of God don’t do anything reckless." he turns to you. "You, focus on getting better. We’ll handle things until you’re back on your feet."

tags: @alexthecutiepie @oooonie @xcalkenf @lora80808

[stusbunker]

Spotless: Cambiare

Chapter Thirty Five

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader

Other characters: Both bands and crew, Madison, Alice and Max Miller, Cas' brother Jimmy mentioned, Alastair

Word Count: 3241

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, still unbeta'd, drinking and mild drug use, smoking cigarettes , Kevin is still a shit and we love him for it, fundraiser fluff, first show in Vegas then somebody shows up to ruin Dean's winning streak. SAFE House is a real organization, but all information about them in this fic is fictional, including locations, organizers and fundraiser protocols.

Series Masterlist

The desert sun shined down, even in mid-March, you were grateful for sunglasses as you walked across the parking lot of the furniture store that was hosting the fundraiser. Part of the core principles of SAFE House and organizations like it was its discretion, so nothing that night was taking place near the actual houses where families escaping domestic violence resided. The main office was tucked into a back corner of a row of single story businesses and also a good distance away.

Behind you was the band in ball caps and sunglasses, Bobby and Annie, while Benny, Cesar, Jesse and Chief followed behind. Charlie and the rest of the crew were setting up at the venue for the following nights’ performances. Victor and SPS had other plans for the night before their Vegas debut, but that was understandable. Plus, they sent their support both in person and via social media.

Alice Miller, the Director of Outreach, met you at the registration booth and gave you a bundle of volunteer badges and tickets for the food stands as well as a map of the grounds. 

“We are so grateful for you being here and helping spread the word. We’ve barely been able to get away from the phones since you mentioned the event on the radio this morning. We’re expecting a record breaking year for the carnival.”

Careful to not seem too unsurprised, you downplayed what you expected to be a very busy night. “It’s the least we could do. Now— where did you want the band?”

“Max?” Alice called a younger man over. “Max is my stepson, and he’s in charge of volunteer assignments. While I’ll be around, Max will be able to answer any questions better than I would.”

The guy seemed a little awkward, but he also seemed to at least recognize who he was talking to. “Alright, guys, glad to have you. I have the band assigned two two hour long stints at the Dunk Tank, the Photo Booth, and the Face Painting stand. Your call on if you stick to one station or switch it up. I’ll leave the list with your publicist. Breaks are expected, but please let somebody know when you need one so we can make the swap as seamless as possible. Your team members are welcome to participate, or just stand guard, but please remember we are as low contact as possible with crowd control.”

You had clocked a good chunk of guys you suspected to be plain clothed police officers donning security vests at the next table. You kept your thoughts to yourself on that matter, as long as the families and participants were safe, you were happy.

“Thanks, Max. I gave them the spiel on the ride over. Can we get some group shots with you and the other employees before we get into our stations?”

“Of course, give me ten minutes and we can get everyone together. I’ll give you a walkie, too, just in case. Though we don’t have enough for everyone.”

“Understood.”

You gave him a firm nod and clipped the communicator to your back pocket. He ducked out of the small tent, while you stepped back towards the group you came with, so the line of other volunteers behind you could get signed in. You glanced down the clipboard with the empty blocks of scheduled time at each of the stations. 

Kevin and Dean were on you in an instant.

“Please put me anywhere but the face painting. I can’t draw for shit,” Kevin begged.

“Sam either, don’t do it, Trouble. It will be a mess,” Dean warned.

“Okay, well, Dunk Tank is going to have to be an all or last stint because nobody is going to be able to pose for pictures or do face-painting when they’re soaked to the bone,” you reasoned out loud.

You turned and spoke louder. “Alright, Pam and Annie, let’s have you do the face painting. If nothing else you can just do exaggerated makeup looks.”

“Sounds good to me,” Annie said. While Pam sort of cocked her head and considered if this was the best course of action.

“Lee and Sam are getting the Photobooth first, if you get bored or overwhelmed we’ll swap you guys for the Dunk Tank. But what we really need are hecklers, and I think these two assholes would be best for the job.” You gestured to Dean and Kevin, the two devils over your shoulders.

“You know there are easier ways to see me with my shirt off,” Dean murmured, but didn’t argue with his assignment.

You turned and looked up at him, your reflection shining back at you in his sunglasses, which only made you more defensive. “If I wanted to sell skin, I’d send Sam over there first. But just for that, you’re booked all night. Happy chafing, Dean-o.”

Kevin cackled. “She just pwned you so bad!”

“Shut up, Kevin,” you and Dean said at the same time.

You tried to see if Dean had just been teasing, but your annoyance and curiosity were short lived when Bobby walked up and took the envelope of lanyards out of your grip, and started handing them out.

Somewhere beyond the entrance and registration booths a megaphone sounded, gathering everyone together for the pictures you requested and a quick information session.

The carnival was scheduled from four to nine, hitting the afterschool and afterwork crowds, but still reasonable for a weekday. Even in Vegas, locals had normal schedules most of the time. You took turns with the SAFE House’s media director taking pictures and gesturing people into position. Carefully you had them frame the band, Annie, Alice and the rest of the board in varying shots of size and distance. You should have brought a real camera, but your phone would have to make due for this event. There were over fifty people volunteering in addition to the security team. And every one of them was smiling at you, it was infectious.

It was going to be a good night.

You patrolled the grounds, gathering pictures of the band at their different booths in various poses and levels of embarrassment. Dean was the first one in the water and once he sunk, the crowd went nuts. His line snaked around the Fun House and back towards the Port-o-Potties. 

Kevin had more success heckling Dean than those throwing at his target, but he, too, was drenched before long. It only added to the care-free atmosphere. Even though you knew Dean would have paid a pretty penny to be the one tossing balls in Kevin’s direction himself.

Sam and Lee started off pretty stiff with the Photo Booth, but once a group of preschoolers busted out the feather boas and other accessories, they caved like a house of cards. Neither man could deny kids, especially ones that might have been hurt at some point in their young lives, so they turned up the charm and silliness and had everyone in stitches before they took their dinner break.

Pamela and Annie had the quietest station. It was rather amusing, and a little surreal, that round after round of kids waited in line, picked out their designs, and sat still for the whole process before their parents, guardians, or grandparents recognized Annie Hawkins as the artist behind the butterflies or dragons now at their sides.

Pamela’s entire being screamed rockstar or badass. But as the drummer of the band, she was the least known by name, which never seemed to bother her. No, her confidence was unique in that it was a genuine, god-given, lack of shame. Something you had envied for a long time. So when only a handful of people asked for her picture along with her creations, she didn’t bat an eye. She just winked at the kids as they went about their nights and waved.

By nightfall, the crowd had reached capacity. The sounds of the various rides and games were constant and the bright lights kept the area surveyable. However, the temperature started to drop and the Dunk Tanks themselves weren’t well lit, which equated to Kevin and Dean’s station beginning to lose some of its luster. 

“Okay! Let’s see what you got! Come on folks— this is for a great cause!” Kevin spouted.

“Freezing my nuts off of here! Hey big guy, think you could dunk me?”

You stage whispered, “this is a family event— keep your flirting to your own time!”

“Har-har!” Dean mock laughed.

You took another picture, but your flash really wasn’t the best with the Fun House lights offsetting it. Dean was dunked again and you asked Max over the walkie if you could end the line. It was a little after eight at night and between the cooler night air and the remaining people waiting, they deserved to see the finish line. 

After a few seconds, you got permission to send Benny and Jesse to curtail new customers, “yeah, okay. We’ll start closing up those stations first, ease out of the night.”

You texted Bobby to start warming up the bus before making your way through the crowd to let the rest of the team know to wrap it up. Sam and Lee actually were already closed up, their tent had been packed up and they just sat sipping on flat beer from the one kiosk with a liquor license. Annie and Pamela had turned into more of a selfie and autograph booth then a face painting stand, but no one seemed to mind. 

“We’ve got the all clear, meet at the bus in ten,” you let them know. Casually, you headed back to the Dunk Tanks to ensure the soggy bottom boys weren’t mobbed once they were back on solid ground.

Cesar, brilliant man that he was, showed up with a pair of fleece blankets from the bus just as the final set of balls were handed to Benny and Jesse. You grinned at him in gratitude, but had to film the final dunks for prosperity’s sake. 

“Come on Benny! Let ‘im have it!” you bellowed as the head roadie wound up.

Jesse immediately sent Kevin into the depths, forfeiting the remaining two throws, and letting his husband help the smaller man off the platform and into a blanket.

Benny missed the first two balls, which Dean was not going to let him live it down. “Oh, he’s on the ropes! Look he’s not gonna make it, I should just climb down. That blanket is a-calling to me!”

“Just shut your trap, will ya?” Benny muttered.

“Make me, big boy!”

“Does he always flirt when he’s nervous?” you asked, knowing full well it was being recorded.

“Nah, darlin’. He’s showboating. He only flirts like this to make up for something.”

“Oh yeah? What am I making up for Benny? Cuz your aim is the only thing lacking here!”

With movie magic precision, Benny sank Dean on his last throw. The remaining crowd erupted and you scanned the area before sneaking closer to get Dean’s grumpy face as he crawled out of the tank and down the ladder.

“About time!” He called over his shoulder before Cesar could wrap him up too. Crouched over and shivering, Dean grinned for the camera before you hit the stop button on the video. Everyone laughed and joked while Dean and Kevin tried to dry off. After gathering their hats, phones, wallets, and socks and shoes, everyone left for the parking lot and the bus back to the Strip and the hotel.

You stopped at the entrance, dropped off the walkie talkie and your lanyards with Max’s crew. You made your way across the parking lot to the corner that Bobby had claimed for the bus, turning on your notifications for the first time all night. It was going to be a long night of scrolling and posting, but it was a good kind of busy to be.

The bass pulsed through the amps and across the floor, like an omniscient earthquake. You felt the heat from the stage effects across your skin. Pamela was taking the end of A Reaper’s Offering and taking over for her solo. The lights dimmed along the edge of the stage and everything focused on her. You felt the buzz of an incoming message on your hip from the walkie, but you couldn’t hear a single word.

“There she goes!” Dean rumbled somewhere amongst the shadows. The crowd responded then hushed itself just as quickly, awe-inspired.

Charlie has so much more at her disposal in this set up and she used everything she could to empathize the epicness of Pamela’s prowess, each drum was focused by its own color light. Pamela kept Charlie on her toes as she hopped from one to another, sometimes hitting three or four at a time. It was mesmerizing.

Your voice was hoarse already and still you screamed as she ramped it up to the big finale. Even in the wing off stage, you couldn’t hear yourself over the racing beat.

Lee whistled with two fingers in his mouth, shrill and celebratory. And still Pamela rocked on.

Sam slid down his E string, pulsing beneath her. You noticed how the others drifted back into position, four more measures and Kevin joined in. As the notes blended together Pamela pulled back, like a band of horses behind well-worn reins. 

“Lead the way, Pammy!” Dean broke the spell and Pamela thumped into a familiar opening.

They weren’t stopping and slowing down for Vegas. ‘Abandon All Hope’ was left out of the first night’s setlist and the suggestive ‘Twigs and Twine’ swapped in instead. If you had to bet, ‘Brother’s Keeper’ wasn’t going to be featured either. And you were right, instead they played ‘Give Me My Ax’ for Lee to completely annihilate.

Charlie dropped the lights on them as Dean finished ‘Not Mine’ and the crowd did not stop for a full five minutes. You felt like you were tethered to a comet, soaring and burning alongside those brighter than you could ever hope to be.

The encores flew by and SPS joined them on stage, bowing and waving and blowing kisses to the insatiable masses. You knew the venue had photographers in the pit and along the box seats, but you couldn’t wait to get your hands on some fan shots. This was a show banners and websites were made of, raw and glistening.

Everyone descended the stage and flooded the wing you were occupying. The moment Dean’s eyes caught yours, his entire face changed and you both went to each other. Unthinking, two magnets across the mess of stagehands and band members just as he bent down to grab you into a hug, you hesitated, feeling unseen eyes in the upper levels.

You grabbed his elbow and drew him in further into the belly of backstage.

“What’s up?” Dean’s face was worried now.

“Nothing, just didn’t want somebody to see us.”

Dean’s brow pinched and he sighed, but stayed at your side. “How was it? Have fun?!”

You rolled your eyes. “I think I’m as sweaty as you are!”

“Well, I’m gonna hit the dressing room. If you need a shirt, I’ve got extra. Because there’s no way we’re stopping soon. Those high rollers ain’t seen nothing like the Winchesters in a hot minute.”

“Fine! But I’m capping you at 50k for the night, young man. Somebody has got to rein you in, especially since Jimmy isn’t on retainer anymore.”

“Ugh! Well, we’ll see about that.” Dean winked and threw his arm over your shoulder and walked you both to the pandemonium that was the dressing room.

You were very careful while out with the band to stay on the vertical side of inebriation. It was equal parts fear of embarrassing yourself and fear of losing control of one or more of the band. After Dean and Cas’ explosion in Chicago last spring, you rarely mixed substances, especially while somewhere as heavily monitored as Vegas.

A little No Doz and a side of vodka and tonic would carry you most of the night. If nothing got too crazy. Eventually, you’d snag a cigarette, but casino-hopping would have to wait. Dean was on a roll, literally.

Dice in theory was an easy game. The tables with all the Pass and Don’t Pass bet bullshit made Craps hard for you to follow, especially when you were too busy keeping an eye on everyone. Madison and Sam were getting handsy at a Blackjack Table. Pam had found her machine for the night and was racking up a nice total with just penny slots. While taking shots of whiskey in stunning regularity.

Lee and Dean were both rolling dice, but the tables faced the opposite direction and you were almost certain one or both of them were trying to hustle somebody. The house always won, but sometimes people got cocky and they thought these cornfed boys from Nebraska were easy prey. It was fun to watch.

If nerve wracking.

Dean’s eyes danced over his dice, everyone gathered held their breath as the dealer called out the victory. Dean jumped up, punched the air, and crowed with abandon. He was untouchable in his brilliance. It made something inside you shiver. Sometimes you forgot he was real.

“Alright, time to head out!” Dean decided, gathering his chips and heading to the teller line to cash out. You nodded to the rest of the band, with an annoyed eye roll from Pamela, but everyone followed suit. Benny and the Chief had drawn straws for that night’s detail, which meant Jesse and Cesar would have your backs the following night. It still felt weird to be Tiny and Bela-less, but it was also one less thing for you to keep track of.

The crowds outside of Cesar’s Palace were full of tourists as you stepped back out onto the strip. A rush of waiting photographers gravitated to your group the second Sam’s head cleared the exit. Fucking Sasquatch was too easy to spot.

“Guys! Fantastic show tonight!”

“Dean! Dean! Where’s Bela? What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, huh?”

“Pamela! Lee! Are you guys back together? Will we see another Vegas wedding from you two?”

“Sam! Who’s the lucky lady?”

Everyone ignored them the best you could, keeping your heads down and letting Benny hold them off.

“There he is! The coward has returned!” A nasally voice made its way through the chaos and Dean stopped in his tracks. You dropped back and tried to drag him forward, while ignoring the jeers from the other paps. 

“That’s a good girl, follow your mommy. Don’t want to get left behind,” the voice said senselessly.

“Dean?” you said, nerves dialed up to eleven.

Dean shook his head and scanned the crowd until he spotted a cameraless, beady-eyed face. “Benny! Keep that fucker away from us,” Dean yelled as he about-faced and took the group in a different direction. Benny fell back and stepped up to the taller creep, clearly making a point of starting a conversation as the other paps scrambled to keep up with you.

Dean dragged you and Pam by the wrists, keeping you at his sides until he decided you were in the clear outside the next stop. You had no idea who that guy was. After twenty minutes, Benny finally caught up with you guys and something in his eyes told you it wasn’t over.

Tagging:

@deans-spinster-witch

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@cosicas-cuquis

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

@suckitands33

@ladysparkles78

@deans-baby-momma

@stoneyggirl2

@sassy-pelican

@leigh70

@globetrotter28

@winharry

@lastactiontricia

@rockhoochie

@brightlilith

@coldhearted93

@djs8891

@beautiful-places-blog

@n-o-p-e-never

@spxideyver

Chapter 36: Acciaccato

[shadowonwater]

Deny Your (Inner) Eyes, Chapter 4: Strange Encounters

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5k words, my longest chapter yet

Warning: Panic Attack, disassociation

Sam brought Joel back to his apartment and told the little guy to feel free to play any of the games he had. Meanwhile Sam would clean himself off in the shower and get on some new clothes. Showers are a good place to think about things. Unfortunate because Sam would rather not think about anything right now. And in the effort to think about not thinking things, of course he thought about the things he didn’t want to think about.

What happened back there with the baby? This is the 2nd time he’s gotten into a physical altercation with a large monster and he can barely remember what happened. He remembers what happened. What did he do to her? He bit her, he tore off chunks of flesh and ate them. Why would he DO that? He thinks he might have been a bit hungry? But he already ate some food for breakfast… he was just suddenly more hungry than before.

When it comes down to it. Sam ate someone. A baby. A monster baby, but still a baby. And the rest of its family is dead except for Joel. Did Joel understand what happened? What Sam did. He remembers Joel was scared. Did he scare Joel? Why would Joel go with him? When he went back to Joel, his mind was in a haze. Was there something from then that he didn’t remember? Of course there was.

Why did Sam take him in? Joel was alone, yes, but… Sam didn’t know how to take care of a kid. It seemed like a good idea at the time. But now he, an unemployed gamer, had to be in charge of not just himself but a whole other human person. Not to mention all the supernatural bullshit going. The kid’s whole face was a mouth for Pete’s sake! How was that going to affect that poor kid’s life? And what about Sam himself? What was happening to him? What has he become? Is Joel in danger around him?

Snap out of it Sam. He told himself. Just take your shower. Make sure the kid isn’t hungry. Then get to the 1st Floor and go looking for more supplies.

After Sam finished his showering and drying off, and putting on new clothing, he stepped out of the bathroom. Just as he expected, the kid was sitting on the couch playing a game. But Sam didn’t recognize the music. He only had three games left on hand and the sound effects and music tracks of those three were well familiar to him at this point. What game was this? And where did Joel get it?

As Sam turned the corner, trying to get a look at the screen, a shrill scream came from the console as a somewhat spooky ghost took up most of the screen. Sam’s heart leapt up into his throat for a moment. Before he calmed down, realizing there was no real threat. He remembered this game from when he was a kid, Screamatorium. Where did Joel find it?

The Joel in question noticed Sam coming up from behind. “Oh Mr Sam, sorry the ghosts hhhhh startled you. I can turn the volume down.”

What a sweet kid. “No, I'm okay. I was just wondering where you found that old game. I know I didn’t leave it on my game shelf.”

Joel pointed to the shelf by Sam’s bedroom door. “I found it hhhh over there.”

Oh right. Sam could vaguely recall stuffing it somewhere back there a long time ago.

“Mr Sam? Are you sure you’re hhhh ok? You have extra eyes again.”

What. “What.” Sam said out loud, lamely.

“Oh, they just went away. But you had them after hhhh something scary happened to you, right? That’s why you were covered in blood.”

“I… I don’t have any extra eyes, Joel.”

“Well, not right now. But I hhhh saw them earlier.”

“Are you sure you saw something? How good is your vision, anyway? What with having your eyes in your mouth?”

“I can’t see to the hhhh side very well. But I can see anything that’s right in front of me.”

“Ok uh…” Sam didn’t have a response to that. And he didn’t want to fight with Joel on the eyes thing. So he decided he’ll just drop the subject. “Listen, I gotta head out… are you hungry or anything? I can make you some food real quick before I leave.”

Joel seemed startled and upset. Sam wasn’t sure how he read upset in Joel’s expression but it was definitely there. “No! I want to come with you Mr Sam!” Joel ran up to Sam and grabbed the side of his pants. “Don’t worry I can fight!”

Kids aren’t supposed to fight. Sam thought. But he sighed. Joel probably didn’t want to be alone on the second day of the apocalypse in a stranger’s apartment. And he wouldn’t want to be alone after suddenly losing his whole family. “Yeah okay buddy, stick close to me though. And again, are you hungry?”

“Uhh, a little.”

“Okay then let’s-”

There was knocking at the door.

Sam stopped and gestured for Joel to step back. Sam looked through the peephole and saw… a pizza delivery guy? He didn’t order anything. Did the guy go to the wrong apartment? Actually that was the least of Sam’s worries about this. Where did that guy come from? Mutt’s didn’t do delivery. So the guy should have come from outside the building, but he looked perfectly normal. And if he happened to get inside right before The Visitor appeared, wouldn’t he have already completed his delivery by now?

“Uhh, hello?” Sam said.

“I think I’m at the right place…” The delivery guy muttered to himself. “Hey uh, I got a Large Chicken Pizza. You ordered that right?”

No Sam did not order that, or anything. He almost told the guy he’s got the wrong place but Joel lit up when he overheard the guy had pizza. So Sam opened the door and gave the man money in exchange. Gave him a tip too, because Sam has done pizza delivery before, he knows the struggle. He watched the delivery guy walk off towards the wall and then… walk through it?

Sam looked at the pizza in his hands skeptically. Joel grabbed a slice and ate it in one whole bite, going “Yum!” Sam then shrugged and ate his slice. It was good and fresh. Hopefully his head doesn’t explode or something. What was with that guy? Is he a pizza ghost or something?

Joel and Sam left after eating a few slices. Looking closer at where the delivery guy disappeared, Sam could see a grease stain on the wall in the same general shape as the delivery guy. Pizza ghost, for sure.

The two of them headed down the stairwell, only to be stopped by yet another strange… person? It was between the flights of stairs that lead from the 3rd floor to the 2nd. Some creature in a black cloak that looked a bit like a cocoon. It wore a white mask.

Sam pushed Joel behind him, who knows how dangerous it might be. The being glided up to him, but kept a reasonable distance. It just stood there and stared at him with a blank expression. Hesitantly, Sam said “Are you… friendly?”

The shadowy being perked up, and nodded the mask up and down. Sam was still hesitant, but it wasn’t making any threatening moves. It still stood there though, staring. Sam had the feeling it wanted something. “Do you need help with something?”

The shadow being startled, did it not expect him to ask something like that? But it then slowly nodded its head again.

“Are you injured?” Sam asked. It shook its head no. “Are you lost?” No. “Are you looking for someone?” No. “Are you hungry?” The Shadow Being vigorously nodded its head.

Joel popped out from behind Sam. “Hey! Do you hhhh like pizza? We have some!” Sam would have preferred if Joel stayed behind him, he still didn’t know what to make of The Shadow Being. The being nodded its head yes.

So Sam gave it a slice, which it ate, before gliding back into the shadows, completely disappearing. It was like it was never there in the first place. Sam had a feeling he would see it again. Wild animals will keep coming back for food, why wouldn’t whatever-this-thing-is. Sam just hoped that it would never see either him or Joel as food by association.

“Hey! Hey Mr Sam! Hhhhh look!” Joel, pulled Sam over to a note taped up to the wall. It was an advertisement for a shop someone had created. Not even the apocalypse can stop capitalism, apparently. “Do you think they’re selling anything, hhhh cool?”

Well the plan was to look for supplies. So might as well look. Eugene’s shop it is. And if he was lucky he could get anything he needed there and not have to worry about endangering himself, and even more importantly, endangering Joel. “Yeah okay,” Sam said. “Let’s go visit this Eugene guy.”

It was right next to where the key was. As they walked up, Joel was none-the-wiser to why Sam was on edge. Sam could see the hole of where the previously bordered up door was. The one that had held a monster. He kept waiting for the hallway to start expanding again, and for that monster to rear their ugly face. He was only somewhat worried about himself, he could beat it, he already has. But what about Joel?

They walked in and were greeted by a shockingly normal looking man. He had a gun and a few scars on his face, but in the grand scheme of things that was nothing. In fact he was the first normal person, besides Sam himself of course, that he had seen since this whole thing started. Sam didn’t count Aster, because what normal person goes around where cult-robes? There was a reason Sam wasn’t particularly interested in whatever bizarre ritual he and his friends were up to.

The store had a few things out, but also a lot of still-filled boxes. Eugene hadn’t had the chance to really get everything set out yet. Sam and Joel walked around, eyes scanning the store. There was some good stuff here. Soap, toothpaste, bullets, medical supplies, various different weapons. But there wasn’t food. There were a few drinks, sure, but not any food proper. Which means that he and Joel would have to go downstairs after all.

Sam had a decent amount of money on hand from pilfering loose cash from apartments, including even getting into one of his neighbor’s safes. But he knew he wouldn’t be able to buy everything. So what, out of these items, would be the most useful to them? Sam went through his bag checking what items he already had.

They had a few different weapons already, so despite Eugene already having some good looking ones, Sam figured he and Joel would be good on that front for now. Sam had some medical supplies but with all the monster fighting they would probably need more. In particular they only had one tonic left. But… did Sam really need to be so worried about injuries anymore? Joel might need more. Speaking of Joel… Sam definitely needed more toothpaste.

Sam wasn’t exactly a fan of the prices, but he wasn’t surprised, it was the apocalypse after all. Eugene probably put himself in a lot of danger to get these items. He bought 4 tubes of toothpaste and 3 Tonics. It was easy to haggle some of the price by saying it was for the kid. It seems Eugene had a soft spot.

As Sam and Joel walked back into the hallway, heading towards Lyle’s room, Sam could feel someone watching him. He wasn’t sure how to put it into word’s the sureness he felt of this fact. He almost turned around, but he didn't need to. He has eyes on the back of his head. He focused on what was going on behind him. There was someone watching from the darkness behind the door frame across from Eugene’s room. Cat-like eyes shined in the darkness. Sam felt the creeping dread of prey being stalked by a predator. 

Sam stood stalk still. Should he confront it? That might risk putting Joel in danger. Should they just walk away as if nothing was wrong? Not let it know he was on to it? They could make a break for it, but that usually triggers hunting instincts in animals. Staying so still in itself might clue it in to him.

“Uh, Mr Sam? Why did we stop?” Joel asked before turning his mouth-head to look up at Sam’s face. Joel then looked startled and then paused before stage-whispering, “There’s hhhh something dangerous, isn’t there?”

Damn, is Sam that easy to read? What clued the kid? He realized that Joel was looking more up than he usually does when talking to him. It reminded him of… of the blood, all over his body yet the kid had looked up, up at his eyes, up above his eyes, to his other eyes. The eyes that shouldn’t be there. Because Sam was human and humans only had two eyes. But he wasn’t human anymore. Oh god. And he ate a baby or part of a baby. And he’s a monster. What’s he going to do? He ate Joel’s baby sister. He’s a MONSTER!

“MR SAM!” Joel yelled.

They were somewhere else now. Some apartment or other. There was a concerned woman wearing a trench coat. Sam could vaguely recall being dragged here by Joel. When something came over him. He thinks he has more legs than normal, he’s going to ignore that.

“Joel?” Sam asked, quietly still in half a daze. “Where are we?”

“You were hhhh acting really hhhh weird, Mr Sam!” Joel sounded like he was going to cry. Can Joel still cry? “I-I didn’t know hhhh what to do! And you really hhhh scared! You had hhhh a bunch of hhhh e-eyes, Mr Sam!”

“Umm…” said the trenchcoat woman. “I heard you two stumbling in the hallway. You both seemed like you were running from something…” The woman’s eyes turned to the door, like she was expecting something to come knocking or crashing in. “So I asked your son if you two needed to hide from something.”

Sam spluttered, “Um-I-Uh-It-Uh…” The woman’s assumption crashed into Sam just enough to knock him back into attention. Sam cleared his throat. “He’s uh… not my son. It’s complicated.”

“Oh.” Said the trenchcoat woman then after an awkward pause she continued. “Well, I’m Jeanne. You are?”

Joel had started calming down after Sam had snapped out of whatever stupor he was in and quickly answered the trenchcoat women. “Hi Ms Jeanne. I’m hhhh Joel, and this is Mr Sam.” Joel pointed to himself then Sam as he said their names.

Sam butted in, “Listen Jeanne, we’re so sorry for crashing into your place like this. We were about to head onto the first floor but… there was something watching us. We’ll get out of your hair soon. I just… need a moment first.” Sam wanted to calm down. He needed (and wanted) only two eyes and two legs.

“It’s no problem.” said Jeanne. “But um… since you’re going down to the first floor already, could you do me a favor? I left a full laundry load in the laundromat on the ground floor. I’d get it myself but… I’m sick. Although… you two both seem sick as well? It looks like there might be something going around…” Jeanne trailed off.

In the darkness of the apartment, Sam hadn’t looked at the woman very closely. Has she changed too? He squinted through the darkness. And suddenly he could see clear as day. His eyes adjusted to the darkness of course, nothing else. It was a bit hard to see, but under her trenchcoat were additional eyes peeking out. Sam felt like he could relate.

“Are you sure you’re just sick?” Sam asked.

The trenchcoat woman seemed hesitant to answer. “We’re all just sick. That’s it. It’ll pass… like a cold.”

Sam decided not to press further. Who was he to judge?

“Well.” Sam said, “I’ll be happy to grab your laundry for you.”

“Thank you.” The woman said.

Joel and Sam left a bit after that. Of course Joel asked the woman if he could have the muffin she had out. And the kind woman that she was, couldn’t say no to an enthusiastic eight year old. Just before they stepped through the door, she rushed over with something in her hands. She had a cleaver. She handed it to Sam, told him that he could use it. He couldn’t say no to such a useful weapon, especially when they didn’t buy any of Eugene’s weapons.

Sam’s eyes scanned the hallway. Just two eyes thankfully. But he no longer saw nor felt those bestial eyes he had earlier. He and Joel were in the clear. They swiftly crossed the few feet it took them to get to apartment 21 and entered.

There was the muffled sound of something being knocked over in another room, followed by an equally muffled curse. Sam wondered how familiar Joel was with cursing. Was he supposed to cover Joel’s ears? Parents did that in media a lot. Sam’s parents never really did that though. Eh, whatever, it’s the apocalypse, kid can handle a few swears.

A door opened up to the right and Lyle maneuvered himself through the doorway. The room behind him was lit by a red light and Sam could see photos hanging from strings inside. He’d never seen a dark room in person before, it’s old school, but kind of cool. He wondered if Lyle would let him see it sometime, not today though, they had plans.

“Ugh, so who is it this time…” Lyle grumpily muttered before he turned his head and saw Sam. “Sam! You’re back!” Lyle skittered over. Lyle’s eyes caught Joel and he said to Sam “Who’s this you have with you?”

Sam gestured towards the kid by his side. “This is Joel. He’s… gonna be staying with me for a while.” Sam then nodded towards the darkroom, “That’s a darkroom, right?”

Lyle was strangely nervous as Sam looked at the darkroom. He moved his body to block Sam’s eyesight. “Ah yes, it’s a darkroom. But you can’t go in! I’m working on a big project right now and i-it’s an ABSOLUTE mess!”

“Okay…” Sam started. “Um, what were you saying earlier? About…” Sam paused before mimicking Lyle’s voice surprisingly accurately. “So who is it this time?” Before returning to his usual voice. “Did someone else come through here?”

Lyle stared open mouthed at Sam. Joel also was looking at him, impressed. Joel said, “Wow! You sounded exactly hhhh like Lyle! How did you do hhhh that Mr Sam!? Can you teach me?” Was it really that impressive? He just… decided to sound like Lyle, that was it. But Sam had never been that good at mimicking sounds before.

Lyle shook himself before saying, “Y-You really sound just like me! And uh… to answer your question… because the door to the first floor is locked and the elevator isn’t working, people keep going through my room to get to the first floor. It’s kind of annoying.” Lyle leaned towards Sam before hastily adding “But not you though! I don’t mind you coming through!”

“Why… don’t you mind me?”

Lyle fiddled with his many legs, he blushed and wouldn’t look directly at Sam. “I-I get ignored a lot, or treated like a weirdo. Cause I’m nerdy and w-weird. But you were nice to me w-when we were co-workers. I d-don’t know why they would fire you… you,” Lyle looked towards Joel before he looked right at Sam, “You’re kind. You’re a good person.”

Sam didn’t feel like a good person. He still didn’t remember Lyle very well. To Sam, he was just a co-worker, he was just being polite. Sam wasn’t a social person. He kept to himself. He played video games. He kept showing up late to work because his shift was too damn early. He was polite to everybody, even when he was in a bad mood. He had been fired when the convenience store was decided to be no longer 24/7. Sam was an average person. Not good, not particularly bad, he was just average. He was a guy in the background.

At least that before The Visitor. Now Sam isn’t sure what he is. He thinks he might be a bad person though. He took Joel in, sure, but only after he killed Joel’s whole family. He’s been looting people’s homes. And he… ate a baby beat up a baby.

“Uh. Thank you?” Sam simply said, in response to Lyle. “We’re going to the first floor for supplies… do you have anything to trade?”

Lyle looked in thought. “I mostly just have a lot of photo paper. Um… I also have some crossword puzzles… a bottle of Purocare… and a Mazes and Wizards set!”

The Purocare could be useful. Crossword Puzzles and Mazes and Wizards could pass the time. Sam wasn’t sure what he'd do with photo paper though. “Well how much do you want for any of those things? Or I could trade you something?”

As Sam reached for his bag to show Lyle what he had, Lyle interrupted him. “You-you don’t need to do all that… I can just give it to you for free!”

Sam balked at that. All of that… for free? “Surely I can give you something in exchange?” This felt like stealing. Lyle was a nice monster. Sam didn’t want to steal from a nice monster.

“Well uh…” Lyle began timidly, he seemed to be debating with himself. “You could… give me a kiss.”

A kiss? Lyle was blushing and looking away from Sam’s face, not wanting to see his reaction. Was… Lyle in love with him? Is that why Lyle was so convinced he was a good person? But still, just one kiss in exchange for all of that was a good deal. Could Sam really be okay with kissing a monster? He was living with a child monster now. Sam was a monster. And Sam didn’t think Lyle was going to kill him. Fuck it. Sam was going to kiss a monster.

“Sure”

“H-ha ha! Got you- Wait you said yes?”

Sam nodded, “Yeah I’ll kiss you.”

One of Lyle’s main hands rose up to cover Lyle’s mouth. There was a quiet and rapid “omg omg omg omg omg!” Before Lyle’s hand returned to holding on to his cloak. Most of Lyle’s feet were doing a jittered taping on the ground. “Okay okay… uh, c-close your eyes please.”

Joel looked back and forth between them, “Should I leave?”

“No Joel, this will be quick.” Sam wasn’t big on closing his eyes with a monster so close to him. But he trusted Lyle. Plus, Sam was sure he could defend himself if Lyle tried to betray his trust. So he closed his eyes and puckered up. Sam didn’t have much experience kissing, he hoped Lyle wouldn’t mind.

In the darkness of closed eyes, Sam could hear Lyle scuttle closer to him until he was right in front of him. He could feel Lyle’s cloak brushing up against him. There was a sound like a camera being adjusted. And his lips met something. There was no skin, no teeth, no mouth at all. It was rounded, smooth, and hard. It felt like glass. And it was extremely warm. Sam was worried he might burn his lips. He kissed it, and when he pulled back the suction created a cartoonish lip smack. There was a flash of dazzlingly bright light that Sam could still see through his closed eyelids, along with the snap of a camera going off. He almost opened his eyes.

“There, you can look now~” Lyle said. “Sorry about the photograph, it goes off sometimes when I’m excited~”

Sam’s eyes, open again, could see a bright red blush on Lyle, he looked giddy. “So about those items…”

“Oh yes~” Lyle said. “I’ll grab the photo paper from my dark room. Mazes and Wizards is on the table. The crosswords are on the coffee table in front of the TV. And the Purocare is on the counter by that door over there.” Lyle pointed to the door with strange tendril-like fleshy growths.

So Sam grabbed the items in question and got the photo paper from Lyle momentarily afterward. As he and Joel headed towards the bathroom, which apparently had the entrance to the first floor, Lyle warned them that he thinks there was something in there that had crawled up from the first floor. The warning was warranted as Sam and Joel got into a fight with some sort of monster with eyeballs growing on its head like a tumor.

As they were fighting it, Sam could swear that he heard Lyle talking to somebody in the other room. At first he thought maybe Lyle was talking to himself until he heard another voice, a giggle, the voice sounded feminine. He was expecting some other person to show up in the unusually elongated bathroom, but no one else came in. Maybe Lyle was talking to himself, and just had a feminine sounding giggle? Sam couldn’t shake the feeling though that something was looking at him. He quickly ushered Joel and himself through the secret entrance as soon as they defeated the monster.

They found themselves in a small room, swarming with rodents. A leaky pipe slowly and continuously dripped blood at the side of the room. As they tried to walk through the room, most of the rodents ran away but a couple of braver ones ran right at them. Turns out they weren’t entirely normal rats. Sam easily cut one in half with his cleaver, as he turned to help Joel, he saw the kid… swallow it whole.

He knew Joel wasn’t exactly human anymore. But as he watched Joel’s jaws closing in on the rat, chewing it, hearing the crunch of tiny bones and the squish of meat, he felt like he was watching a stranger. That kid, Joel, was a sweet kid. But he also ate a random rat off the floor like some wild animal. What did Joel think of his own actions, was he even thinking at all? Sam felt a sick sense of familiarity. There was a part of him that wanted to bite something.

“Um, Joel?” Sam said, Joel turned to look at him as he finished chewing. It was weird. It was a giant mouth eating sideways but still a mouth. Joel’s jaws would open momentarily, and Sam could see the rat viscera inside. It was rat goo with bits of fur and bones at this point.

Joel closed his mouth and swallowed. “Yes? Mr Sam?”

“Why did you eat that rat?”

Joel’s brows were creased in concentration. He was thinking deeply. His hand was in a fist and resting by the side of his mouth, in lieu of having a chin to place it on. “Hmm…”

“Were you hungry?”

“Not hhhh really.”

“Then why?”

Joel eventually shrugged. “Just seemed right.”

It just seemed… right? Was that what Sam had felt earlier that day? That it was just right. He tried to look back on his memories, to get a clear idea of what was in his head. There was… biting biting biting. There was hunger. There was fear. And there it was, the feeling that this was obviously the correct thing to do. Biting and eating anything that threatened him. Sam shuddered. He wanted to throw up. He could almost remember the taste of her.

“Uh, hello?” An unknown voice came. Sam wasn’t a religious man, otherwise he'd be thanking god right now for giving him something else to think about. The voice was coming from the direction of the dripping pipe, in fact the echoing indicated the voice was coming from inside the pipe.

Sam stood by the pipe. He thought about looking inside but had the feeling that might be a bad idea. Joel stood by his side. “Hello?” Sam said. “Are you inside the pipe?”

“Yes. Oh thank goodness, you’re only the second normal person who’s actually stopped to talk to me! Everybody else just walks by…” The voice in the pipe sounded sad. “My name is Rafta, who are you two?”

Sam and Joel introduced themselves to Rafta, the pipe women. The story of how she got that way was a bit odd. Sam wondered how big the end of the pipe had been or how small her apartment had become for her to confuse the pipe for a hallway. She seemed kind enough, but Sam wasn’t surprised people didn’t stop to talk to her. Her voice was quiet, you had to get close to even hear her in the first place. And even if you did, a talking pipe was probably something to avoid in a monster-filled apocalypse.

“Could you do me a favor?” Rafta asked.

“What is it?” Sam had already agreed to help Aster and Jeanne, he might as well help out a third person at this point.

“There was a guy I liked. His name’s Nester. I saw him and he talked to me a little. I want to see him again. Could you find a pen and some paper for me to write on? I want to write him a love letter.”

Sam had doubts as to if this Nester guy was still alive in all this or if he would even come back to talk to her or if he could even find the guy in the first place. But getting a pen and paper and delivering a letter (because he would probably have to do that too) weren’t a big ask. “Yeah I’ll help you.” He told Rafta.

“Thank you!”

So Sam and Joel exited the room and onto the first floor. Sam ignored the feeling he was being watched.

[abbonation]

A Joel Braiding Your Hair Blurb

Features a reader with lengthy hair who is meant to be chubby. Something to chew on while I come to terms with the fact that I can’t write more than a two part series and try to finish up another project before winter break is over!

Warnings/tags: Joel Miller x Reader, girl dad Joel, non-canon compliant, Sexual thoughts and references to smut, low word count

He tries not to look, feeling dirtier with each stolen glance, despite his efforts to wash in the river downstream from you.

After a harsh March and early April spent without somewhere warm to lay your head each night, over a month of a wet washcloth and re-wearing your jeans; the first true thaw was a savior to your psyche. Joel had promised that as soon as the ground is thawed and the river ain’t frozen, we’ll wash and take a good long rest.

You had been crying at nothing, so overwhelmed by the feeling of dirt caked under your nails, among the rest of the stress daily life in the harsh northern winter presented. It bubbled out of you a few days before, Joel had rubbed your shoulders, not wanting to overstep, and tried to comfort you the best way he knew how. With his words. By promising to take care of it.

As if his promise set it into motion, the sun peeked from under its grey blanket soon after, and in a few days ground was just warm enough to make the small drip of the river turn to a distinct trickle.

It would be just another couple of days until your duo with Joel reached Jackson, ending the weeks long trek into the wilderness to a hospital in search of antibiotics and other medical supplies.

You unloaded your pack, and draped our jacket out on the bank, along with your socks and boots. Your jeans and shirt are next, piled beside the water for you to wash. By now the routine is well known, just don’t turn around unless you want to see whoever you’re bathing next to- it’s a lot of trust, but really, most things at the end of the world require more trust than people realized.

You had seen Joel shirtless a handful of times, as had he you- out of necessity or accidentally. Not on purpose. Though you would occasionally remember on purpose. Tanned, soft skin stretched for what seemed like miles over his muscled torso. Joel had the kind of body that you could only get from decades of real work, hard work.

He split the small chunk of lightly scented bar soap in two pieces and gave you half. You had but a tiny container smaller than your palm of hair cream, made by a woman in Jackson; used very sparingly you could condition, detangle and brush your hair with what you had packed.

You washed and sudsed and scrubbed until you were squeaky clean, giving your scalp extra special attention with a massage.

It was then that Joel accidentally on purpose stole a glance at you over his shoulder. As he raised his hand and scrubbed his armpit he turned, seeing the outline of your heavy breasts peek out from behind your upper half. Everything below your hips was underwater, but the line of your back, long flowing hair and strong shoulders worked as you washed your hair. He imagined your eyes were closed in bliss, and he quickly turned back around.

Your clothes got washed and laid out in the sun, and you laid out to dry right next to them on the bank. The sun and promise of coming summer coaxing your brain to let up for a little while.

Baring a still damp tee and mostly-dry underwear you went to plop yourself in front of Joel, who sat in his boxers on the ground a few feet down the river.

“What’s up?” He squinted through the sun at you.

“Joel, can you braid hair?” You ask, brushing your fingers through your lengthy strands.

“Been a while, but it’s probably like riding a bike, ‘reckon,” he motions for you to scoot between his legs.

He breathes heavily. This back and forth with you was tough on him. He didn’t want to push you to be more, but this partnership didn’t feel like just a partnership. It was things like this that kept him wrapped around your finger, and sometimes he hated how at your will he was.

He brushed your hair over your shoulders and smoothed the remaining hair cream into the length. He began brushing it with his fingers as best he could, not able to get out every tangle.

“Did you braid Sarah’s hair?” You asked, quietly.

It catches Joel off guard, but subconsciously he had been searching through his memories with Sarah and Tess to remember how to do this in the first place.

“I did.” He states gruffly.

He feels you swallow. He had been working on being more comfortable talking about her. Coming to terms with the trauma he lived through.

He huffs a breath. “I um- I braided her hair sometimes. Usually I took her to a salon in town since she liked to have fancier styles than I could do by myself.” He remembers the beads Sarah’s braids would occasionally have, little butterfly barrettes and bows. His throat starts to close up when he feels you rub your hands down his calf, staring ahead into the mountains as you try to comfort him with your grounding touch.

He carefully splits your hair into three sections and begins pleating them. Left, middle. Right, middle. Again and again down your back he works. Each turn of his fingers working him closer to you.

He breathes and you rub his skin and he is okay. He ties the end with your elastic and tucks the stray hairs behind your ears.

Unexpectedly, he pulls you back and kisses the crown of your head. You tense for a moment, and then relax into his embrace- leaning on him.

“Thank you.” He whispers.

[deeznutzzzz24]

Little Red Riding Hood

Chapter Two: An Uninvited Guest

Summary: Living a life of caution for as long as she can remember, Y/N has never stayed too long in one place, always moving from town to town in hopes to hide her identity. With the Hunters Moon coming, she knows she must be extra careful, as the local culture resides heavily in the hunting of her kind. One night, when a cloaked figure unveils her secret and narrowly escapes, Y/N finds herself in a desperate situation: kill or be killed. With no face to go by, she must now search through the townsfolk before the stranger can spread the truth about her. But the task proves more than difficult when she realises her only lead is a long, crimson cloak.

Genre: horror, fantasy, little red riding hood retelling

Warnings: cursing, stalking, death, heavy smut (later included)

Pairing: redridinghood!Jungwon x femwolf! reader

chapter one here

chapter three here

chapter four here

Midnight air slips through the town square. The small clearing in front of the monastery lays bare, except for a small crow perched above its tallest wing, scrutinising my every move. The townspeople must be sound asleep in their warm beds. It’d be well past midnight by now, seeing as the way the moon slowly sinks across the stars. I glance to the midnight sky, cursing the way its constellations align so perfectly.

God is taunting me on this night.

He too, has seen my sin.

Perhaps he’s seen all along, and has only chosen tonight as the opportune time to tell me. Observing the empty courtyard to my left, I squint at the quiet townhouses in the distance. No red cloaks hurry through the footpaths.

The fool thinks he can hide from me.

The crow hawks a loud farewell and launches into the midnight sky. I hear it wishing me well as it passes. Smiling, I recount all the times they’ve watched on as I’ve killed the innocent. All creatures of the forest have an equal fealty to werewolves. Even birds know there are loyalties that must never be crossed.

Casting a subtle glance back to the monastery, I watch in silence as the town pastor gently closes the gates.

Shit.

Hearing him approach, I suck in an awkward breath and turn to retreat. His presence will only serve as a distraction.

He hurries forward and touches a gentle hand to my shoulder before I can turn away. “Y/N! I’ve been looking for you!”

Taking in a brief moment of freedom, I release a subtle sigh and turn to face my guest.

Pastor Mikaul has aged fairly since the last time I had seen him. His eyes droop with age, waning on the edge of exhaustion with chunks of hair that seemed to stick to his forehead like a mop.

In Mikeals mind, God was the greatest diety of all, giving sanctuary and hope to all those who send him their precious prayer.

I tilt my head to the side, observing the stern callouses that paint his palms. Some god indeed, stripping his faithful of freedom and leaving them to wander around a chapel all day like mindless fools. Blinded by their faith, High Priests in Avion spend their days locked up without a morsel of food or sunlight. They believe praying is the only thing they need to survive. I suppose it’s silly of me to judge, considering I’ve spent most of my life adapting to the shadows and living by the rules of the forest.

Pastor Mikeal makes an awkward cough as he takes his hand from my shoulder.

Cringing, I watch him shift closer, giving me a stern expression of disapproval. “The Council and I have been wondering why you haven’t been showing up to Church for our Sunday services.” He nearly whispers as he mentions the Council, pointing narrow glances to every corner of the courtyard before proceeding, “I understand your aunt is gravely ill, but perhaps praying for her good health will do better than neglecting your religious duties. You don’t want to break the Council’s trust now do you my dear?” Just as before, the old cripple goes into a hushed tone when mentioning the Council.

I suppress a smile.

Even the pastor fears them.

Under the guise of hiding a sob, I give each eye a firm pinch and wait impatiently for the tears to fall. I spend the next 10 minutes explaining my absences from church, and my dear aunts depleting health that seems to worsen each day. Waving my arms around on occasion, I weave a delicate tale of a hidden antidote, a difficult journey through the Northern treks of Rangaar, and a kind young woman trying to save her only living relative. In this story, and only in this story, I am the kind young woman. I finish my appeal with a long sob and a heartfelt apology thrown in for for his pride.

I watch through the corner of my eye as he stares uncertainly at the ground, catching the way his eyes twist in discomfort.

I’ve been a cold bitch to the him since the day Helena and I arrived in Avion. He wasn’t expecting this heartfelt reaction.

“My dear girl, if it troubles you so, let’s leave it be as it is for now…” he murmurs, briefly hesitating before giving my back a comforting pat.

I force myself into a stuttering mess. “B-but the Council will still be angry-”

“Don’t you worry about them, I’ll let the Council know of your impending troubles.” Giving me a reassuring pat on the back, he sets off in the opposite direction, leaving me to stand alone in the cold. I feel the sad expression on my face wear thin, moulding into the familiar uniformity of a nothingness.

In twelve days, when the winter solstice has begun, he will die. As will most in this town. Nothing has changed.

Our plans are still set, no matter how delayed.

I watch his figure morph into emptiness, chanting the promise once more in my mind.

They’re all going to die.

I turn to continue my hunt, finding myself pushing for any emotion, any small sign of sympathy, but all I feel is my heart sink at the knowledge that it’ll never hold more power over me than my head.

___

The South side of the forest could easily be considered the joyous reflection of the North. Complete opposites in every way.

Ever since Helena and I arrived in Avion, we’ve spent every spare hunting day covering the grounds of the North and West sides of the woods, using their confines of dark solidarity to our advantage while we hunted in secret.

The only few times I’ve needed to cross into the South was to visit Mary, who lives in a comfortable little cottage on the other side of town.

Leaves crunch beneath my feet with weary pace, leaving me to wonder if someone is actually watching me from afar or if it’s just my paranoia. I shake my head, pulling my lavender dress up to avoid a muddy branch in my path. Mary always fusses over my dresses, warning me not to get them dirty or she’ll be forced to do the one thing I hate most; make more of them. While Helena also pushes the importance of dresses as it eases the process of ‘blending in’ with the townsfolk, I’ve never been particularly fond of the discomfort a gown can bring me. Avion may be a quaint and colourful paradise in Summer and Spring, but in Winter the waters soak down through the small winded mud puddles, making it nearly impossible for any young woman to trek through the forest paths. How most Avion women bear the irritation that comes with wearing sun dresses and gowns everywhere they go, I’ll never know. Upholding the social standards of others has never been a concern of mine. Not with my situation.

I look ahead to the narrow stone path closing in, knowing I must be close. Mary usually insists I bring a map of Avion before setting off on my journey to her cottage, as the both of us know it’s not the easiest little place to find. Little does she know, I have a knack for finding people.

The crunch of leaves beneath my boots gradually soften, signalling I’m close. Mary’s cottage is situated in the centre of the most beautiful part of the forest, where the leaves in her garden shine with delicate care as though they’re watered everyday. Knowing Mary, they probably are. Small slivers of sunlight catch a small cottage coming up to my left. Hues of pink and green hover in small spaces of light above the roof. It’s almost as though Mary’s cottage is where the fairies come to congregate. That wouldn’t surprise me, honestly. I can already picture Mary welcoming them with her cinnamon cocoa and warm smile. Unlike the rest of the townsfolk, Mary has a pure heart filled with patience and compassion for the magical elements. Creatures of myth have never scared her, but that’s only because she’s never met a creature of dark magic.

She wouldn’t accept me, and as much as my affection for her stands firm, I certainly wouldn’t expect her to.

The smell of warm chocolate and pastry fills the air as I approach, pushing all thoughts of acceptance aside. Mary usually waits out the front for my arrival, fussing with my coat and boots so that I can enter comfortably, but today, she’s nowhere in sight. Making my way past the small porch steps, I take off my shoes and go to place them neatly by the door, stopping abruptly when I hear voices coming from inside. She must have a visitor. I glance to the small shoe rack by my side, searching for any shoes that mightn’t belong to Mary. I don’t see any.

Strange.

She hates it when people don’t take their shoes off before entering. Pressing my ear to the door, I listen in silence as I hear Mary’s voice accompanied by that of a males. Before I can catch what they’re saying I hear a loud crash followed by a scream.

Mary.

This was no visitor,

but rather an uninvited guest.

_____________________________________________

Authors Note:

Sheesh that took me forever haha, sorry to everyone who’s been waiting. I’m really going to try and punch out another chapter this week cause I’m getting too invested in my own story LMAO.

No fr, send help💀

Anyway hoes comment in the comment section if you want to be added to the taglist (for those that haven’t already asked)

Taglist: @ramenoil @moonmoongi

[dissociacrip]

this turned into a long adhd rant whoopsie

it really does suck how people seem to downplay autism and adhd now lol. autism has been reduced to people who can mask and have low support needs and adhd hasn't really changed from its status as a joke.

i don't talk about adhd much but it probably gets in the way of me being able to function just as much, if not more than autism does (in my personal situation) when it comes to mental disability. not showering enough. not cooking. not cleaning my living space properly. forgetting to brush my teeth. dishes sitting in the sink for so long they start getting moldy. only being able to maybe do 1-3 tasks a day maximum because my brain can't organize itself enough to do more than that. difficulty committing to things and being consistent in overarching ways. being late to things a lot. highly impaired verbal recall so i forget things people say to me, forget verbal instructions, etc. on top of the other acutely stressful situations that come with memory and regulating my attention span (e.g. locking my keys in my car or locking myself out of my house when i have a very limited support network to remediate those situations.)

my meds barely touch this stuff for me and i'm not especially inclined to increase the dosage after bordering on psychosis when i was taking 40mg of vyvanse. i've just become so accustomed to living the way that i do (because my case is pretty bad afaik) so i can't just will myself to be another way. any efforts i make to change or be more organized and routine and consistent end up getting dashed away because i just cannot do it lol. my shit just doesn't work. adhd is a massive barrier between me and being a functioning person or being able to take care of myself. i'm pretty sure would still be a "gross" and unpalatable disabled person even if my muscles worked and i didn't have POTS/etc. that also get in the way of my hygiene and the cleanliness of my living space.

that doesn't even go into how other people react to it. a good chunk of physical and verbal abuse i faced from my family as a child was related to my adhd symptoms. i was diagnosed at a young age but my parents "forgot" it happened and it was never addressed otherwise. i got constantly called disgusting for my hygiene problems and was threatened with violence over it (on top of the times where i was actually getting assaulted.) people take my impaired verbal recall and lack of impulse control irt accidentally cutting people off or interrupting them personally, accusing me of not caring enough when it's something that is extremely difficult to be aware of or manage when adhd is a condition that distinctly involves impaired awareness of your own behavior.

so when i see shit like "just set alarms" or anything else that amounts to "you're not trying hard enough" or adhd not very much being a disability, especially when it's coming from other people w/ adhd, it kinda makes me wanna stab things with knives.

sure, it's not the worst condition ever, but just like most other disabilities, the way it affects everyone who is it is different and some are gonna be able to manage it better than others. sure, there a lot of really fucking annoying people (usually able-bodied) w/ adhd on social media that have large platforms and who very often profit from or encourage liberal pop psych bullshit when it comes to adhd, but it's still very much a disability. it can affect hygiene. it can affect employment or otherwise means of earning an income. it can affect our social lives and whether we have a support system. it can affect whether someone can keep their house from getting infested with bugs or mold. it is very much something that causes dysfunction in ways that aren't nearly as cutesy as the little comics you might see on instagram are drawn.

just remember that.

[blackbloodteeth]

Something fell from the sky that night, shook the earth far from where it landed. He could feel it before he saw it, parted the curtain from the window to watch a flash light up above the storm, a star falling some distance from his quiet cabin. He felt it so closely in his chest that he just had to go out to find it, out into the billowing snow and freezing whirl of nature's untameable whims.

A hand kept his scarves pressed firmly against his laboured breaths while the other held tight to his lantern. Snow, deeply burying the mountainside, slowed his steps but he trekked onward to where he remembers the heavens parting. If anything, he always had a good sense of direction.

Eventually the dim glow of the flame's light cast itself on a disturbance in the snow, sunken around a small boulder that he threw himself onto. His gloves tore into the storm trying to claim it, pulling apart chunks of meteorite that crumbled away like feathers, and soon enough the lantern reflected from a dull gold blanketing the inside: Deep within, a woman. Bare. Nothing, save for the sleeping face of an angel.

This is how he knew the above was cruel, abandoning her here all by herself.

He pauses for not even a moment before hastily setting the lantern aside, forcing off the outermost coat from himself and swaddling her in it, carefully, yet hurriedly, picking her up and taking the lantern again as he stands back up, trudging homeward with this fallen star in tow. It isn't before long that he pushes them past the door and brings her to a freshly renewed fire, gifting her all the deserved rest he can offer from its warmth as the storm rages onwards.

Thankfully, she awakens just in time for supper to finish being prepared. There's a curiosity beneath the layer of frost set in her face – yet her eyes were greener than you can ever imagine here, like gemstones that lure in the wicked and greedy while rewarding those who never deemed fit to take them in the first place. She didn't speak for a long while, not that he particularly expected her to, but he told her that he went by Soul as he offered her a piping hot bowl of stew.

Like many before her, she hesitated until she got a taste of his rich, hearty recipe of tender meats and perfectly cooked vegetables to eagerly devour her bowlful and second helping. It'd been a long time since he'd smiled like this.

"…Soul." Of course she finally did speak, less a voice of a bird of paradise and more a scholar of thought. "You brought me in from the cold?"

"I did," he replies before taking another bite.

"…Why?"

His spoon stirs the broth around gently as he ponders this, for only just a moment. "Just felt like the right thing to do. No use freezin' out there for no one."

"What you say and what you mean doesn't sound the same."

Soul doesn't have to face her to hear the way it furrows her eyebrows at him, and well, maybe there was some truth ringing into that little smile of his. "After you wear a mask for so long, it gets hard to remember what your own face looks like."

For the rest of the storm he kept her company. Told her all the tales he knew, like how there once was a shepherd who wore the skin of a wolf to find where all the other wolves gathered, and when he joined their plot to wear the skin of a sheep that night, his own family ate him for supper none the wiser. By the dawn of sunrise when the storm finally broke, he'd dozed off more than a couple times haunted by these visions.

The chill in the air was present as it was refreshing. Soul loaned her some spare garments to keep her warm, fully ready to see her off at the greeting of sunrise over the shimmer of snow before she turned to face him again, that stony layer of curiosity returned with a small lantern's flame.

"You seem lonely."

Breath from his sigh plumes up from the restless corners of his mouth. "Have been my whole life. One day I just decided to make it a choice."

"If you could choose again, would you decide that now," she asks.

He looks out at the windless sparkling of sunrise already starting to reach its way to his quiet cabin, not yet blinding but still a sight to behold as not even his trail nor the storm had been left behind in the calm of morning after. Another plume of breath slips away from him when he gazes upon the shining green still watching him. "I won't choose to stop you if you decide to stay here."

[mahi-does-some-art]

Sloth/Mahiru 👀

One of my favorite ships ever :3

I feel silly so you can get little chunk of the fic. As a treat. No smut tho, that'll be for Ao3.

----

It had only been a normal day. Busy, yes, but normal. Running errands, tidying up the house and putting the laundry up to dry. He’d even gotten to the store in time for a few good sales all while Kuro was either on his head or lazing on the couch with a game in hand. There was nothing that could have warned him– He had only been trying to figure out what Kuro wanted for dinner. Walking over to the couch in the dim warm atmospheric lighting Kuro had ordered to bathe their plain apartment in, leaning over the top of the couch to peer at him.

He had only asked a simple question no different from anything he’d say any other day. But when Kuro had looked up at him to answer, something stopped him, his mouth just barely hanging open to make some strange sound. The light in his eyes glazed over in an instant and it felt like he barely had time to blink before a smile too big engulfs his face and his body drips and changes as he sits up.

And lunged.

His Servamp’s body was no longer his own and its host was laid to sleep in some unseen darkness, made unaware of anything Sloth may do. Unable to awaken on his own Kuro was dragged into the deafening depths of the demon’s head and Mahiru was left defenseless and for the taking. It’s surprising the Eve hadn’t gone insane. Seeing your partner’s body being taken control over and morph into something else that wanted to suck you in and devour you. If he weren’t so familiar, or perhaps if he were just anyone else, he would have lost his mind and person a long time ago.

The last thing he remembers before he got taken was the sight of that normally lazy body contorting. The feeling of clawed hands brushing against his skin and pulling him in and the feeling of something warm and plush pressed against his lips. He comes to tight in the embrace of his demon with their lips still locked together and a tongue pushing past his teeth, wading above the pitch black ground of his domain.

He really needs to set some more ground rules for these impromptu visits.

----

Mahiru's not going to be able to sit down properly in the morning, let alone be able to walk or stress about cleaning an already spotless house or running around town doing things for other people. Which is exactly what Sloth wanted! :D

[itsradnomad]

Dysphoria

CW: blood, injury

---

This morning, as I’ve done a thousand times before, I reach for my razor, ready to remove the rough imperfections of my face and leave behind the delicate surface of my true self. It’s a necessary ritual, one that was capable of altering the very fabric of my identity. On a good day the razor and I had an understanding, a symbiosis where I’d gently glide its blade across my cheek and neck, and it would reward me with a perfectly trimmed face. And though I had sculpted my appearance before, allowing growth to give way to lengthy sideburns and scraggly goatees, over the years we had settled on a look that showcased my bare face – smooth skin, untouched by the rough texture or the dark gnarls of masculinity.

Our relationship was always complicated, and often times frustrating. I spent my younger years trying to find the right recipe. One day, a buzzing device that left my face feeling hot, and after the heat subsided the roughness remained, as if the whole activity was rendered useless. The next day, the orange disposable handles my dad swore by: they tore at me, chiseling away my beard and along with it chunks of the marble, leaving a stinging sensation as their parting words. I continued to explore, from the replaceable heads to the double-edged blades – from the dollop of cream in my hand, to the scented bar and brush – taking note of what techniques worked and which ones didn’t. I could predict what I’d need for any situation: a safety razor for the workplace and local events, and a disposable one for when I traveled. Often we were out of sync; a poor grip, or an uneven path, was swiftly punished with pain. Sometimes, it left across my neck hundreds of micro-cuts, darkening my collar with a sinister rash. Other times it split my lip, leaving a week-long reminder not to smile, lest it humiliate me by breaking in times I should have been happy.

I grew uneasy in our meetings, so I gave us some space, allowing the stymied growth the occasional opportunity to propagate. I convinced myself this was a badge of honor, a symbol of dedication in all other facets of my life, when really it was a mark of surrender. In those moments I had given up on our relationship, forgoing the ideal of softness in hopes that the uncomfortable barbs that had begun to protrude could be comforting enough. This wouldn’t last, as I’d remember what I had lost, what we had lost, when I had put the razor down. We always fought when I came back, the blades desperately pulling at my beard as it was whittled away, but in time we found our groove. And once again, synchronicity prevailed, and I was left with a clean, smiling face. We had these battles over and over again, but I had truly believed that they were worth it – that in spite of our disagreements, we could learn to work together.

With ample shaving cream, I massage my face, both an activity of self-soothing and a signal for our dance to begin. My razor had already helped me many times over the past few weeks, and in my naivete, I had no reason to believe it wouldn’t partake in today’s sculpting. As I glide its blades across my face, I could feel the familiar tug, the desire to pull more than just hair from me, but with a steady hand I complete the first pass across my face: straight down from my sideburns, round my cheek, and along my neck, returning only to repeat the process on the next blade-length over. My mustache went next, much easier than the neck but with some remnants that would require more attention in subsequent rounds. With decisive movement and a twinge of haste, I had removed the most obvious patches of hair, and I could begin to feel the softness return once more.

The second pass is trickier; it can be done without the cream, but it requires a delicate, focused pull. It can be done against the grain, moving the razor up my neck back towards my sideburns, or it could be done perpendicularly, with the blades running from my ear to my chin. Often times, and today in particular, it was a combination of both methods, a brute-force attempt at a thorough trim. With every stroke of my razor I would place my fingers on the bare surface left behind, seeking validation for my efforts – after all, what could motivate me more than knowing the feeling of my ideal self?

“FUCK!”

With a jittery hand our dance abruptly stops, as I feel the blade plunge into my chin. “No, no, no…” I knew I had broken the skin, the sensation of hot blood rushing to greet the injury. I study the cut closely in the mirror, a perfectly straight line materializing a bold red color. I note the placement of this mark and, in my frustration, how close it is to the other mark – the one I had given myself a month ago with the same damn jittery hand.

I press on, determined to move past this unfortunate interruption and finish our activity together. My attention returns to my upper lip, still in need of a final pass. If I could just finish this, we could give ourselves another week-long break!

“Shit…” Another tug at my skin gives way to more pain, as the corner of my lip is now torn. It’s not enough to stop me from smiling, but it’s found a way to become a part of my smile – I don’t know which option is crueler. I put the razor down, our business concluded, and I see my neck is also a victim – the familiar lacerations decorating my neck like jagged cracks across freshly-shattered glass.

In the course of our relationship I had learned to never enter our meetings unarmed. I reach for my alum block, a quick treatment for my injuries that also doubled as a barometer for the extent of them. On our best days, the block slid across my face with ease, as if I were buffing the smooth marble my chiseling had exposed before I polished the stone with aloe-based lotion.

But today, with its brutal honesty, the alum block tells me exactly what I had feared. Searing pain takes over, with electricity that envelops my face in a disorienting surge. The hundreds of micro-cuts suddenly feel like millions, each one a screaming voice reminding me of my missteps. The blood continues to trickle out, taunting me as I desperately try to salvage what was left of my face. With a shaky but decisive pressure applied, the openings close, leaving behind the battle scars of our latest spat. I apply multiple rounds of lotion, a futile attempt to convince myself everything was under control.

My face, now hot from the trauma, could begin to heal – but would it? The mark I gave myself a month ago was still visible! Maybe my skin lost the flexibility it once had, or maybe I cut myself too deep, but I don’t remember them lasting this long. Besides, I’ll need to shave again in a week, if I want to keep the unwelcome coarseness at bay. Would I hurt myself then, too? Or the time after that? And for what, a face with the smoothness I craved, but at the cost of disfigurement? With every slice of my razor, I’m not just losing a piece of my beard – I lose a piece of myself, of my identity.

When I look in the mirror, I see a quandary – a face that so desires to be seen, in all its soft glory, while simultaneously despising its very nature. It latches on to the imperfections: the crookedness of my sideburns, the missed stubble around my lips, the red irritation coloring my neck, and the faded scars of battles fought long ago. How cruel the whims of the universe must be, to invite disgust and disillusionment into the home where love and acceptance should live. What would happen if I keep this relationship going? Would I chisel myself into something I no longer recognize? Would I eventually whittle away to nothing?

---

I don’t know how this ends. But with a clear mind and newfound resolve, I now see us for what we truly are: a toxic entanglement that has long passed its expiration. Perhaps beyond its fickle edges, in the greater ecosystem of hair-removal, I can find the way forward – perhaps I can put down my razor for the last time, so I may treat the wounds I’ve accumulated over the years.

Perhaps I’ll live a long, memorable life, one full of love and appreciation for how I look, one where the razor can never hurt me again.

[stevenblueniverse]

Bellow selkie au Chapter 4 (finally its here! I'm so sorry about the break I had to take!)

Chapter 4 the human family

"I saw some seals by the shore, it reminded me of the selkies you'd tell me stories about when I was young", was the only thing written in yellow's most recent letter regarding her recent experience with the selkie, she felt so guilty about the whole thing, again she had scared the poor selkie away, now she barely left her hotel, just waiting for her ship to return and finally leave this place that made her feel nothing but guilt for what she had done.

Yellow looked over to the most recent letter from her mother, laying on a table next to the bed, it was unopened and barely touched. She shuffled to the other side of the bed and grabbed it from the table it lay on, clumsily ripping apart the envelope, leaving small chunks of paper on her bed and nearly ripping the letter inside.

The contents of the letter didn't suprise yellow, 90% of it was dedicated to selkies, saying yellow must've seen them and how they're known for their beauty, she even wrote of her own "experiences" with them and how she believed yellow seeing them meant something "very special" and will bring good or bad luck that will "show itself very soon". This time, yellow didn't take this letter as the regular nonsense and folklore her mother constantly went on about, instead it made her remember those two nights when she saw the selkie, it gave her determination to maybe see her or at least another one again, and definitely not make the mistake she did before.

Yellow threw on her long black coat and knee high boots and quickly rushed out her hotel. She forgot how hot it was out there, as soon as she stepped out the bright sun shone directly into her eyes, she lifted her hand in the air to cover the sun and tried to walk out of its blinding light and into some shade, she'd been all over the world but the weather here had been the most unbearable for her. As she passed the beach where she saw the selkie, yellow saw something that caught her off guard

On the beach was three people, a very tall woman in a white dress with long, curled hair that was almost a pink-ish colour, She was holding the hand of a small boy standing next to her, he had dark brown curly hair and looked about 8 years old, he was wearing a red t shirt and jeans, he was looking around and didnt seemed to be interested in what the other two people where doing, the third person there was what caught yellow's attention, it was the selkie she saw! And she seemed to be talking to this woman and her child!?

Yellow slowly approached them, so many questions forming in her mind, "could this woman be a selkie? She doesn't have a coat? Maybe the sister the selkie spoke about is her?", soon yellow got too distracted in her thoughts and tripped over the hill, landing not far from them, she wasn't hurt but it was embarrassing. Yellow got up and wiped the sand off her clothes, trying to act like nothing had happened, she could see the selkie was now looking at her, the pink haired woman waved her hand in front of the selkie to get her attention again and they resumed to talking, the young boy was also now looking at her, her cover had been blown, now she didn't know what to do.

"Rose, who is this?", a male voice said from above the hill leading to the beach, the man who the voice belonged too soon jumped down to the beach and approached them, he had long dark brown hair, and a beard, he seemed much older than the two women, yellow looked away and started writing her letter, trying to make it look like she wasn't watching, but also keeping close enough to listen in to the conversation. "Oh...she is...", rose, the pink haired one, studdered, holding her son's hand tighter, the selkie nervously started to step away into the ocean, yellow could tell she was scared of whoever this man was.

"Have you been lamenting by the sea again?", her sarcastically asked, giving rose a smirk, she bowed her head and looked to the ground, "...yes", she replied defeated, "well that won't get you anywhere, you aren't a part of that lifestyle anymore", he continued, looking up and down at the selkie with a disgusted expression, "and plus", he grabbed Rose's son away from her, "you have me and steven to care about now, so don't waste your time crying over your past", he dragged his son, steven up the hill and went back to the two of them, rose looked back at the selkie, quiely apologised then made her way up the hill to her son. "You there!", he called to the selkie, making her flinch, "what makes you think you things are still allowed around my wife!", he yelled, trying to grab her by the coat, she jumped back into the ocean, ready to flee, until....

"HEY!", yellow called, rushing inbetween them and smacking away his hand from her coat, "what are you doing!? Yelling at my friend like that!", the man looked back at the selkie, then back to yellow and raised an eyebrow, "your friend?", he asked, "yeah my friend! We where planning to meet up here and I find you yelling at her! Leave or ill make you!", the man gave up after that, he turned around and made his way up the hill saying, "fine, go spend your time with that creature, I don't care".

"Y-you helped me?? But why!?", the selkie asked, yellow turned around and gave her a friendly smile, "I saw he was being threatening to you, I couldn't just watch that happen," yellow looked down and saw she was still holding tightly onto her coat and shaking, "I'm very sorry about what happened last time, please can we talk?", she asked, the selkie nodded, "we can..thank you", she said, going to sit down on the beach, looking around to see if the man had truly gone.

[a-problematic-writer]

i mean tis it s almost the season idea of aiden gettin a mistle toe kiss?

You didn’t specify who would give Aiden the mistletoe kiss so I’m defaulting to Aidesse 💚💚💚 Went a little unconventional with this haha ^^

It’s been so long since he’s been to a proper holiday party.

He was invited to one Lukas’ parents threw once years ago. He barely remembers it. He and Lukas spent most of the time at one end of the dining table joking and laughing before stealing the last of the mulled wine and escaping out to the roof to drink and smoke the two cigarettes Aiden had left. He’s surprised they never got caught even when Aiden ended up staying over and they both woke up with a mini hangover. They were just sly enough to skip out on it he supposes.

This party is different from that one. For one, Aiden is way older and Lukas isn’t his sole source of company. It’s also not nearly as formal. Lukas’ parents were pillars of the community and often had all manner of well-to-do community members as well as family members at their parties. Jesse wasn’t the type despite being the mayor of Beacon Town. There wasn’t a shred of formality in her being. That’s probably why she was so easy for many to get behind as a leader. She was just like anyone. Could easily blend in if she tried. But she’s also the big shot hero and absolutely can’t. He doesn’t envy that, not like he used to. He can’t stand being looked at by so many eyes anymore.

It’s a big reason he almost didn’t come to this party, but Jesse pouted and pulled those damn puppy dog eyes and he was doomed to attending. He doesn’t mind though. The atmosphere is surprisingly cozy even if a good chunk of beacon town is gathered at the order hall. The treasure room had transformed into the main hub of the party flawlessly. The treasure and pedestals stowed under the floor and tables with refreshments squaring off a middle section that had smaller tables around for dining.

Aiden was hanging off in a corner near a table laid with drinks. He was partaking in the mulled wine for the nostalgia of it and watching the going-ons from there. There were a fair few familiar faces in the crowd. Olivia, Axel, Radar, Petra, Stella, and Lukas. But there were even more strangers. Aiden was happy for that. He could just blend into the background… unless a coworker caught him. Only a couple had, wishing him a good night and chatting idly before making off with a date or family member. For the most part he was invisible. A faceless nobody in the crowd. Something he’d hated when he was younger, something he craved now.

He sips at his wine as he enjoys that thought. He finds himself searching the crowd in the next moment, seeking out a certain face. He doesn’t find her. He curses himself for disliking that and for continuing to search. He forces his eyes downward and shakes his head. He hadn’t seen Jesse since the night started. She’d greeted him enthusiastically, pulling him into an embrace. He can still feel the electric tingles of her pressed against him. Still smell her perfume… he wets his lips involuntarily and takes another swig of his drink to counteract his quickly drying throat. Nothing can quell the heat rising behind his face as he thinks of the way she lingered there, telling him she was glad he came…

He tries to stomp down the smile that’s worming its way onto his face but fails. He can’t even blame the warmth enveloping him on the alcohol. He knows it’s her. It’s been her for months. It shouldn’t be. He doesn’t want it to be. But he’s tried denial, it's just made things worse… So what's the next option? He supposes there’s two. He could do something about it or run. He doesn’t like either so he keeps doing nothing. He keeps pushing down on it. It keeps boiling to the surface. He sips at his drink again, fingers curling around the glass tight.

So, maybe, he’s a bit smitten with the leader and hero in residence of Beacon Town. Maybe he has been for months. Maybe it’s the stupidest thing that’s ever happened to him. Of course, he’d catch feelings for someone he has a rocky history with. Someone he can’t and shouldn’t have… His throat dries again and he goes to take another drink and finds he’s at the end of his glass. He grimaces as he looks at the bottom of the glass. He briefly considers getting more—is about to move to the dispenser when someone gently taps his shoulder startling him.

He whirls around and freezes in place as he looks down at Jesse. She offers a bashful smile, hands clasping behind her back. He involuntarily sets his glass down and tries to speak a greeting but finds his voice failing him. Her head bows and she shifts side to side.

Speak stupid! Speak! She came to find you and talk!

Before he can speak she lifts her hands unclamp from behind her back and she lifts on above her head between them. Aiden’s eyes dart up to it and his heart stops. She’s holding a bundle of mistletoe above them. It’s an old tradition, usually a kids game where you throw the bundle around in a group as you sing the words to an old holiday carol until it stops and whoever it stops on has to approach someone and present the mistletoe to ask for a kiss. The thing that has him in a chokehold and the room spinning is the fact that the rules aren’t just to approach anyone. They’re to approach a crush. She takes a hitching breath and his eyes lock with hers. She’s shaking, just like him.

“Can I get a kiss?”

Tradition down to the phrasing. Aiden can’t find his voice. Can’t move. Kiss? What’s a kiss? Who is he? Where are they? Who is she? He freezes to the spot completely. Nothing computes or processes; he just stares at her. Her face falls gently before a grimace tightens her features as she drops her arm back to her side. She wets her lips and takes a step back. Mortified. Say something, you idiot! You want to kiss her! He chokes, voice coming out louder than he intends.

“Yes!”

She gasps, eyes jumping up to his. A shake starts in his chest and blooms outward as he bows his head, eyes screwing shut. He’s so stupid. Way too enthusiastic. Especially after just staring at her like some weirdo! His self-flagellation is cut short by Jesse running her fingers up his arm. He takes in a sharp breath as his eyes jump up to hers. She offers another bashful smile before taking another step closer. His heartbeat jumps into his throat. She worries at her bottom lip.

“You sure?”

He nods without thought. She hesitates, uncertainty coloring her features and then quickly grabs both of his arms and pushes herself up on her tiptoes to press her lips to his. The kiss is gentle and chaste. She tastes like mulled wine and chocolate. He sighs as he returns it briefly before she pulls back giggling, head bowed. He laughs with her.

“I hate that stupid game.” She says quietly, eyes coming back to his. “I shouldn’t have agreed to it.”

“I didn’t mind.”

He hates himself for saying it and screws his eyes shut after. She breathes an airy laugh, squeezing his arms gently eyes filled with affection.

“Neither did I.”

[atinydragon]

Rat Manor: Hide And Seek

After the day’s incident it’s decided that the rats less experienced with borrowing should get some lessons in it. To Button’s surprise she volunteers!

[masterlist]

"I can't believe you did that!" Button tried to make her voice stern but it came out squeaky as usual. "You know we're not supposed to be seen."

"I know, I'm sorry Button." said Glimmer. The fairies antenna were drooping. They lowered their voice to a whisper "But our new guest smelled like trash and Sam wasn't much better."

"Still..." Button glanced over at the other three fae.

They were standing in a group with Sam explaining to Willow how she found Moss. The pixie in question was standing next to them smiling as her eyes darted around the attic.

"...We're not supposed to be seen." repeated Button.

"Why not?" said Moss.

Both Button and Glimmer jumped. Neither had seen the pixie approach. Even Sam and Willow looked confused as to how she got over there.

"Well giants don't really like us..." Button fidgeted with the end of her dress.

"Giants are really territorial." Willow stepped in. "They don't like others in their space or taking their supplies, no matter how small. Sometimes they don't even seem to realize we're people."

"That's because of the glamour." said Glimmer simply. They looked at everyone's confused faces "Y'know the one that makes giants see us as bugs and literal rats? I've told you about it right Button?"

Button fidgeted. Had Glimmer told her about it before? She couldn't remember ever hearing of it. But what if she said they never did and then she just forgot about it like a terrible friend-

Glimmer sighed and straightened up. “Well. I'm not certain of its exact origins but it's a sort of universal glamour on all fae that disguises our true appearances to giants. To them we look like a normal rodent or insect."

"Is that why that giant didn't react to you?" said Sam to Moss.

"Yep! I was just a big fly." Moss buzzed her wings to make a noise uncannily similar to a fly’s buzz.

"That actually makes a lot of sense, it was probably a defense when we first encountered giants..." Willow trailed off, getting lost in his own head.

"Right, it's a defense thing. I'm sure giants would react far worse to a person in their home than just another bug." said Glimmer.

"All the more reason to not be seen." said Willow as he snapped back into reality "They're likely going to set traps now that they know for certain that pests can get in. Maybe even worst..."

Button gulped and stared at the floor. She felt Glimmer's arms wrap around her shoulders.

"But!" Willow said hastily "This is an old house. It's only natural for there to be hundreds of ways for actual bugs and rats to get in. The giants here have almost certainly accepted that they'll have to deal with them being inside. As long as we don't any more brazen things or let them see us in the pantry we should be fine."

Everyone nodded.

"Good. Tomorrow I'll go scout and see the damage. And hopefully get food, those apples are barely enough for tonight."

Alone? Not even the bravest of scouts in Button’s family had been willing to go alone unless absolutely necessary. Willow didn’t seem stupid to her so he must be quite brave to do this.

Sam cringed at her bag of browning apple chunks. "Wait just you? Weren't you all about as many people going?"

"For food runs yes usually. But this is a scouting run." said Willow. "Also you're... well..."

"A liability, yeah I get it." finished Sam.

An uncomfortable silence followed. Everyone was scowling or looking down avoiding the others eyes or shifting around like they didn't want to stand there anymore.

"I could do stealth training with you guys." Button blurted. She squeaked and covered her mouth. Why did she say that?

"What's that?" said Sam.

Somehow Button's paws lowered on their own "It's something my family did to teach the kids how to sneak around a dwelling. Where to walk, how to hide quickly, that stuff." Button's ears were burning by the time her mouth finally stopped.

There was a pause.

Button curled her tail around her legs. They were not happy at all. She was going to get yelled at.

"Oh yeah that's a good idea. You are very quiet, no offense, so you must have been really good at it." said Sam.

"Yes more sneaky!" buzzed Moss "I like sneaking."

"Then we'll do that." said Willow "I'll go down and scout while Button gives you all a crash course on being stealthy." Once again everyone gave their agreement.

Button blinked, unsure of what just happened.

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

"Why'd you let me say that?" Button fussed with her cloth piece, unsure of how to wrap it around her in a professional manner. What even was a professional way to look to teach people how to steal?

"Because I'm not going to tell you to shut up." Glimmer grabbed the cloth and began wrapping it around Button "Especially not when you're being smart. This is a good idea." They tied up the cloth.

"Still... what if they don't listen to me or make fun of me?"

"After what the three of us did without any thought yesterday, none of us have any leg to stand on if you mess up. Besides Sam will be waiting for me to mess up, not you."

"I guess that makes sense." mumbled Button.

"Good. Let's go."

The two fae left the den and headed to the hole.

Moss and Sam were waiting there for them. Willow had already left to hopefully map out the kitchen giant's, or the cook as Glimmer thought she was, schedule.

Button gripped one of her pony tails. The only one she could look in the eye without breaking her neck was Moss. Even Glimmer was suddenly intimidating with the prospect of having to teach them something looming over.

"So what first teacher?" Glimmer winked.

Hopefully Button's mouth was making the normal smile she was trying to get it to. "Well... first is..." she glanced around. How had her mother started these lessons? "Where would you hide if a giant appeared? GO there. Right Now!"

The other three looked startled at the suddenly firm voice that came out of Button's mouth. But then Moss zoomed off and the other two moved as well.

Button had been mentally counting. Once she hit five seconds she spoke, trying to be as loud as she could. "Okay! Stop where ever you are!" She walked forward to begin searching only to stop when she glanced at the hole and saw Sam on the first platform.

Sam grinned sheepishly up at her. "Should have gone down one more huh?"

"That's okay, this would get you out of a giant's way at least. Want to help me find the others?"

"Sure." Sam heaved herself out of the hole.

The two didn't have far to walk until they found Glimmer crammed in between two boxes.

"Well, I guess that hides you from a giant." said Button "Can you get out?"

Glimmer squirmed, doing little to get themselves out. Sam had to pull them out.

It took the trio longer to find Moss. The pixie had hidden herself well. She was only found when Button happened to look up and spot her hanging upside down from the rafters. "That was fun! What's it for?" said Moss once she fluttered down to the others.

"It's a test. But we're not done. Now you all close your eyes, say millipedes five times, and then come find me." said Button.

The others looked confused but did actually do as they were told.

Once they all had their eyes closer Button bolted.

She rounded around a box and headed full tilt towards a bookshelves. Narrowly dodging splinters, she dove under it. Now laying down she moved just enough to get somewhat comfortable on her stomach. And she waited.

Soon she heard the others began to search for her.

Sam and Glimmer were immediately bickering but still moving around. Moss was either silently searching or had gotten distracted.

Time passed and eventually Glimmer and Sam were standing in front of the bookshelf.

"Where is she? Can she turn invisible or something?" said Sam.

"Not that she's told me. But I'm starting to wonder..." Said Glimmer.

"Nope!" Button popped out from under the shelf.

Both fae jumped at her sudden arrival.

"How did you fit under there?" Sam crouched down to look at the small space. "Also why are we playing hide and seek?"

Button stood and brushed herself off "Hide and seek?"

"It's a kids game. One person is 'it' and has to close their eyes and count while everyone else hides. Then the person goes to find them." said Sam.

"Oh. A game?" Button had never done these tests for fun. How rough did Sam live?

"It's so fun! We didn't really take it seriously, at least my siblings never did. My brother, James, would just throw a blanket over himself. Sometimes it would even work, but usually he'd just end up popping up shouting 'boo!' and chasing the seeker. It was great."

Or Sam's family hadn't been as strict as Button's and the game was actually just a game. Button ignored the odd pain she felt from this information "That sounds nice. My family always used it as a way to train kids on how to hide and flee properly. I've never really played it just for fun..."

"Well you can now." said Glimmer "I mean, we have to take it seriously but you're already so good."

"Yeah! You take it easy so you don't completely own us newbies." Sam winked.

Button blushed "Okay."

Moss appeared from nowhere "Can I do the findings now?"

Once the others got over the fright they agreed.

[dq-avenquire]

Omg hi aven I hope you are doing so so so well grrrrr!! I saw your DQIX boss tier list and I just wanted to ask since I am so curious like! I know you gave some thoughts about the bosses in the tags but your thoughts on tarantula in specific got me thinking because them being interesting yet weak as a boss fight is like. So real ?? Literally huh?? And it's a SHAME because the Bloomingdale story is one of my favorites from the main game! So I just wanted to ask like, what standout bosses felt narratively gripping but weak as a boss fight? Did any feel kinda eh for you storywise but actually got your blood pumping a little?? I am just so curious lmao. Everytime I see you gush about DQIX it feels like I am a starry (hehe) eyed kid who got transported back to 2009 waakwkwajjansnssns

P.s I hope your party/parties are questing well!!!

this is so shameful i did not see this i am so sorry scuffle my friend sniffle....i will ramble so much just for you. (i hope you can feel me beaming astral gratitude at you, you are very kind to me) OKAY SO. spoilers for most of dqix ahead tread carefully questers!!! the post our dear friend scuffle is speaking of is this one here where im tiering boss's based on very arbitrary and specific criteria, and im gonna go into more depth rn: disjointed rambles lie ahead beware!!!

i spoke a bit about tyrantula already but - while i dont know if i just happen to be overlevelled everytime i get to bloomingdale or if its just scaled weirdly - shes always absurdly easy for me to beat. ive never felt like im chipping away at her, its always more. okay well theres like 3 turns left moving on. and then shes gone! and thats such a shame given my already long standing feelings on tyrantula. there is something to be said in regards to her being weak potentially fitting nicely into the story if we see it as a sort of "marion(ette) wouldve been easy to save, but no one ever did" kind of concept, but thats almost definitely not what was intended so it feels a little. unearned, i suppose. especially given that the reward is the massive boat and no true happy ending for marion(ette)

story wise i'll admit i was actually kinda :/ about leviathan and porth llaffan - i was really attached to jona because i thought her accent and design was really cute, but the actual build up itself was not particularly interesting to me for whatever reason (felt a little generic? not sure, i found a good chunk of newid isle to be a bit "going through the motions-y", even if i really enjoyed the tower of trades itself*) (my issue lay more with the cave than the story). the boss fight however? i struggled with that SO MUCH as a kid. something about the waves he summoned DESTROYED my team repeatedly and i remember getting so incredibly invested in trying to JUST barely pull through. repeated heart racing and wishing that there was a health bar so i could at least tell if i was even remotely NEAR close to beating it. finally seeing that flash of white with the last hit really got me, and the following scene with jona and her father kinda pulled the whole thing together for me! i really liked going back to porth llafan to talk to jona every once in a while, even if her dialogue didnt change. my friend :) * want to clarify. i definitely didn't Dislike anything, i think i was just so enamoured and curious about the whole whale summoning thing the ghost was talking about, and then having the focus be turned on "youre going through a cave now" without much extrapolation on this village's non celestrian based worship made me a little disappointed, so by contrast 9 year old me was WAY more excited by going on to bigger places. perhaps also part of my conflict was that i actually beat the porth llafan section BEFORE alltrades. im not even sure if i went to alltrades abbey at all before beating the whale. probably didnt help some of it feeling a little jumbled!

that being said, i think the boss ive come around on most is either goreham hogg and/or the master of nu'un! i ranked goreham hogg pretty low but feel the need to clarify that part of that is just that hes REALLY fun to hate. hes this awful, opulent beast of a boss who destroyed me age 9 and ran/runs that sincerely horrific slave camp/prison so its easy to dislike him! thats good! hes a villain! im MEANT to not like him, and given how much i ADORE goresby purrvis (for being so cool) and hootingham gore (for his sick design) its probably important that i want to sincerely kill at least one of them. there is very little i truly dislike about dq9, since i tend to have Fun getting mad about things in a cathartic sort of way.

re: master of nu'un - he was a boss i never found particularly standout, and found weirdly anti climactic when put in contrast of this weird and mysterious tower (that has no clear purpose btw i need to talk about that in depth sometime what the fuck is the tower of trades actually there for from a worldbuilding perspective im so intrigued) and then this strange glowing room (which is literally referred to as the ??? room in the wiki btw. isnt that sick) where this priest weve been looking for is just. transformed. and that transition is really cool honestly!! i imagine it wouldve been more monumental to me if id done things in order, since i wouldnt have seen the fyggs in action yet, and in theory it also makes a really interesting narrative precursor to corvus (see my previous notes on jack abott and his parralels to the player) but i feel like his abilities and attacks were just a bit...eh? no super standout animations, which is a shame given that he does a quirky little "hehe what should my new evil name be....high jack....jackrilege maybe ....." before the fight and implies some sick mischief in him that doesnt really get communicated further. i think some of my feelings on this got sorta cemented when (over a decade later) i finally fought yore, and his design and fight felt a good bit more fitting to him. sure, it makes sense for a priest to get a fucked up evil demon form, but it just doesnt quite hit the nail on the head! its not terrible, just not the coolest thing in the series!

[beevean]

https://youtu.be/fDKZJbOiEQ4?si=k_KZ2dI4EPU3FHyR

https://youtu.be/LSnbb8e7UY0?si=FbAPhkoSgToMQvIb

Behold! The Queen of all time!

(And somehow Lady Pussy Sun manages to be even more one dimensional)

What kills me about this whole monologue is the setup:

Lenore: Please, would Dracula have kept [Hector] around in his own castle if he were that dangerous? Carmilla: *sighs* I would have liked that castle.

They were just talking about Hector, about him stalling and Carmilla suspecting him of being devious (and I would love to know how Carmilla grew to see Hector as suspicious and capable of killing, when she hasn't interacted with him on screen since the beginning of S3 when he was a pathetic sack of flesh) and Lenore "protecting" him by calling him "too simple" (déjà vu), a pretty important conversation for Carmilla because it has been six weeks and this asshole is making a fool out of the entire Council by roaming around her home without doing what he was raped hired to do (and Striga had mentioned in S3 that they couldn't afford to waste time as they had to take advantage of the chaos in the region before the humans reconquered it)... then Lenore just happens to mention the castle when it wasn't even the main subject of her sentence, and Carmilla immediately forgets all about the Hector issue because she just has to rant about her desire to conquer all?

absolutely peak dialogue. flows just as smoothly as chunks of concrete through a tube. i can see why this show is so praised for its writing.

I remember a post I read ages ago, about how Carmilla's insanity speedrun arc devalues the other sisters. In S2, she was pretty much the only ruler of Styria: the others weren't created yet, and she was written as someone who had to burden her trauma all alone. Then S3 introduces this tight-knit group of besties, which genuinely respect and admire Carmilla for being the "spark". Then in S4 Carmilla somehow loses her mind in one fell swoop because the others were too busy to check on her, reverts back to the lonely traumatized woman who fell prey to her own hatred and thirst for power, and the other three decide to turn their back on her with barely any hesitation. You could honestly cut all three sisters and fuse Carmilla with Lenore, and the story would be organically better. I honestly don't know if it looks worse when you watch everything in one go or having to wait one year for this mess.

On top of this, it's yet another instance of show don't tell. Carmilla just tells us about her trauma. "The first part of my life was men taking things from me," this is a chilling line with all sorts of terrible implications, and it's just thrown there without any care or pathos. Because the focus is not on her motivations that are supposed to give her depth: it's to show how insane she is, to suddenly kick her back into main villain position after she twiddled her thumbs for a whole season, and to justify poor widdle Lenore being scared of her, because hey, she's the "good" vampire, and aww she was lied to just like Hector, aren't they true soulmates, isn't this poetic cinema?

When you boil the Styria subplot down, it really is all about that damn woman, and screw everyone else, isn't it.

I said in one post that if I were to rewrite Carmilla, I'd put more emphasis on the fear that pervades her and drives her to react to the world with rage, mistrust and desire to protect herself. I cannot take Carmilla seriously the way she was written. She has the blueprints to be a compelling antagonist and representation of a woman who reacts to her trauma in an "unappealing" way without being woobiefied (and I do seriously appreciate it), but with scenes like this, she really only comes off as the scornful parody of a radfem written by a man that is absolutely not feminist in the slightest.

Oh, and I'll just mention this here:

"Bloody women," they said. "Let them die," they said.

For a setting so inspired by Berserk, and that has long dialogues of low-class men talking about fucking animals, there is a distinct lack of misogyny on screen. Not only the only flashback we get of Carmilla's past shows the day she killed her master and we don't get to see her "nightmares", which means we are not privy to the details of what drove her to be so hateful, we never see any men actually look down on Carmilla for being a woman in power: even Godbrand may be a bit of a lecherous pig, but seems to respect her enough as a person. Again, this cheapens her misandry. I can't take her seriously. She's just ranting that MEN BAD and I'm supposed to think she's cool for it.

[cloudbattrolls]

Epimetheus

Guardian Artifice | 465 sweeps prior | Civitrecce

“I think you’ve been working on it too long, dear.”

The words were fuzzy. Muffled. They only barely had meaning. 

“Nonsense! I last took a break, ah -“

“Three hours ago, dear. You’re going to burn yourself out if you keep pushing it.”

The click of a tongue. What was a tongue?

“I’m fine! You’re just fussy, sweetheart.”

“You won’t be fine if you don’t rest, love.”

A complaining tone replied, yet it had a clear undertone of fondness. The voices moved away, muted until they vanished entirely.

How did it know all this? It remembered nothing. What was it? Who was it? 

It opened its eyes, not realizing it had had them. It couldn’t see well either. It was in a…workshop? Many tools and materials lay around it, machines of purposes it could only guess at.

It squinted. It tried to move.

It couldn’t. It did have a body - it was more than just thoughts - but it was strapped down by leather to a cold, hard table.

It ached from stiffness, it realized. As if its body had been lying here for nights…

But how did it know these things? How could it conceive of past nights when this was the very first time it had opened its eyes?

It tried to speak. No good; its throat was too dry, its tongue - yes, muscles for speaking - was leaden and useless.

An animal wandered up to it. A familiar animal…? No good, it couldn’t recall if the big white furry thing with the small ears and knowing dark eyes was known to it.

The animal sniffed it, then started chewing at the cords. It felt a rush of excitement.

It took a few minutes, but where was it going to go? It had no idea where it was. Who it was. Why it was here. 

It was rapidly realizing it had far more gaps than anything else in its head. An awareness that there were massive chunks missing, including context for what it did know.

As the animal finished chewing through one strap, it flexed its arm. Pale gray. Clammy. The flesh turned to metal, partway down the arm. Part of it felt that it shouldn’t be able to move.

But most of it delighted in the freedom, and several minutes later, its other three limbs and tail followed. Wobbly, hesitant, it eased its aching body off of the hard gray table and stood up, relying heavily on its large tail for balance. 

The animal nuzzled it. It wasn’t sure how to respond. It tried to nuzzle it back, feeling the press of something hard into the animal’s soft fur. The animal backed up and wheeked softly. 

Its mood plummeted. Oh no, it had offended its savior…

No nuzzling, then. 

But…

It looked at its hands, sharp and bladed. It didn’t…it didn’t want to hurt this animal.

Animals bled.

Did it bleed? 

Curiously, it cut its skin -

“No!”

Said one of the panicked voices from earlier and it looked over, recoiling in fear from the noise as it stopped. It had only made a small cut, and a few droplets of a grayish red substance oozed out.

“Oh - oh my goodness, you’re alive! You’re awake! Can you understand me? Oh, please, please don’t hurt yourself, Arty.”

It tried to speak, but again its throat was too dry, and it could only make a croaking noise.

“Oh, of course! Your throat’s dead…you’re dead, well, your body was dead, I…one moment!”

They sounded quite flustered, this voice, frantic, yet excited. It could only make them out as a blurred gray shape in red and yellow clothes, with bright green eyes. Then they turned and quickly walked away.

It stood there, unsure what to do. Follow them? But it could barely move, still…

The animal stayed a few feet out of reach. It wanted it closer again. It would be so careful and not hurt it at all. It knew it could do that.

It put a bladed hand to its face and found…metal. It tapped it. Hard and unyielding. No wonder the white creature had shied away…it was soft and warm and…

Alive.

It wasn’t really alive, was it.

“Here you go! Water! Ah - be careful. Those hands of yours are fragile.”

Carefully, it gripped the glass with both hands, shaking a bit as it drank. It nearly coughed the water back up, its throat so dry and unused to it after nights spent - yes, nights spent dead.

It must be dead. 

Yet it wasn’t.

“Why…” it said, the word slow to come, hard to say. “Why am I…” it gestured to itself. Speaking was difficult, so terribly difficult, and it had so much to ask.

The person - the troll - fidgeted and patted its arm.

“Oh, you poor thing…I meant to be here when you finally woke up! You must have so many questions…ah, but having questions is such progress! I was beginning to think…never mind! This is my first great breakthrough! All that work wasn’t for nothing!”

They sounded so jubilant, and yet…it couldn’t share in their joy.

“Arty…I promise this isn’t forever. We’ll get you fixed up! You’ll be able to do everything! Anything! You’ll be just like a normal troll, I swear. Better, even! The first living security system!”

It shrank back. What did that mean? They were talking so loudly, so fast. It put its hands to its head, dropping the glass of water It wanted the animal back.

The troll startled at the noise, but its head already ached along with its body now.

“Ah…oh dear, you’re probably a little overstimulated, I’m sorry. I’m just…you have no idea how much this means to me. But you will! I promise I’ll teach you everything. You’ll understand just how wonderful you are.”

Wonderful…

It didn’t feel very wonderful right now.

It sat down, tail curled around itself.

“I want…” it gestured at the white animal.

The troll paused. “My lusus? Oh - well, sure, why not! Go on, Baba.” It said in an encouraging tone. “Go to Arty.”

The animal looked at the troll, but then walked back over to Arty. Carefully, Arty extended a leg, its bare foot not having any blades, and touched the soft fur.

Yes. Much better.

Vaguely, it noticed the troll writing something with feverish enthusiasm. It couldn’t bring itself to care.

“I’m…dead. Who am I?”

Clumsy. Fumbling. It had to get better at speaking, as soon as possible.

“Oh! Well…your body belonged to a friend of mine.” Said the troll with a sigh. “Poor thing. Mutants tend to have health problems…we really did try to save them. They agreed to let me have their corpse for my work, and not a night passes when I wish I could thank them again. But you are Arty. Guardian artifice. It’s a nickname for who and what you are, you see? Isn’t it cute?”

Cute…like the animal, which had settled down, its nose twitching occasionally as it let Arty pet it.

Yes, it wanted to be cute too.

It nodded in agreement, the movement heavy and awkward with its metal faceplate.

The troll beamed, they thought, from what they could make out of their expression.

“Ohhh!” They said, hands clasped. “I can’t wait! This is going to be amazing!”

Whatever the troll said next, Arty didn’t hear, as it curled up next to the animal and went back to sleep.