#sometimes its the rituals of selling a house which is something that can be so personal (derogatory) other times

[sforzesco]

hello! do you post your writing anywhere? the excerpts you include are always so good sfjskhd

thank you 💓 technically like. most of the comics here are my writing, but if you mean just prose I don't bc.... most of it.... is for my own entertainment at 2am....... and the person I am at 2am focuses on very specific things that don't always make something interesting to post, so I almost never get around to polishing it up for a wider audience, although lately. I have been. Considering™

[ladyinrainbowglasses]

My logically considered pro-choice position:

What we are arguing is that no one has the right to force a human being to function as a living life support system against their will.

No one has the right to force a person to continue being pregnant if they do not want to be pregnant.

Sometimes things don't work out in pregnancies, and a wanted pregnancy is either going to kill its mother before it becomes viable or a wanted pregnancy is never going to become viable.

Sometimes a wanted pregnancy has physical problems so severe that it *could* survive outside its mother, but the parents and medical professionals involve all agree that the quality of life would be unacceptable to the point of active cruelty. This fetus may survive as a baby, but only through continuing heroic intervention, which is expensive and painful for a stop-gap solution.

Sometimes a wanted pregnancy does not miscarry fully, but it is medically apparent that it cannot be prevented from dying. Not performing an immediate abortion puts the mother in extreme danger.

Sometimes a pregnancy is not discovered in a person who could not consent in any way until later than we would prefer. A child under 14 needs abortion care as a matter of course - her body is in no way developed enough to mitigate the worst dangers of pregnancy, which would also cause harm to the potential child. She should not be forced, which would be a further violation of her body, but it requires destigmatization. Sometimes the pregnant person was in a coma. Sometimes the pregnant person is physically an adult, but mentally a child or even an infant.

All laws around abortion exist for is the idea that women need to have their bodies rigidly controlled by men through legal means, because we are not smart or logical or moral enough to be trusted without special laws.

Every law around abortion exists based on the fundamental principle that a fertile uterus is the legal property of the state where the human carrying that fertile uterus resides.

They are able to sell people on such a clearly absurd and stupid position by also selling a false security, by appealing to the innate human drive to attempt to control the world through casting magic spells.

You can say this isn't casting magic spells, but I can think of no other logical parallel for attempting to control something as complex as human pregnancy by writing down words in a legal code. You may as well want a law on the books outlawing the treatment of cancer, concluding that by forbidding treatment, cancer will realize it has been ritually banished. No one will get cancer if we make it illegal to treat cancer! No one will ever have a major pregnancy complication if we just make it illegal to treat such a thing!

It took me a long time to realize the position I had been brainwashed into was completely illogical, hinged upon magic spells working, and required me to behave as if I believed the average sexually active woman was stupid, cruel, and evil. I realized that I was behaving in a way at odds with observable reality and to do what? What good was being accomplished? What was better because I took an interest?

I have lived right above poverty most of my life - there are so, so many poor people who could USE HELP! Instead, we get the organizations that are commanded as a matter of religious doctrine to help the poor and the sick bullying poor women into having babies they don't want and can't afford. It is not just NOT HELPING, it is giving people who desperately need help a kick in the teeth instead. Churches suck up energy and money protesting abortion and are richer than ever. Food and housing insecurity are at their highest level since the Great Depression. Thousands of Americans die each year because they can't afford medical treatment. Yet the people who believe a literal god commanded them to take care of others do nothing but try to pass magical laws against abortion.

It's a scam to keep you distracted and bound up in a war that can't be won, so you will never focus on your fellow humans that are here with you now.

[outof-thepast]

The Metaphysics of Cyborg Labor

“There was no subjective evil in their life, just the invisible background of the systemic violence.”

Slavoj Zizek

The rituals of our everyday lives are preconditioned activities imposed on us. Not imposed coercively, as in by someone holding a gun to our heads, but in a much more sinister way. The threat underlying our daily decisions, a threat that lives in our unconscious, consistently reminds us that we can either submit to exploitation or starve to death. The current system does not allow for a third option. You either submit to work or good luck trying to survive in the streets. What makes this threat even more sinister is the way it is presented as if it comes from nature itself: whether it was God, human nature, the selfish gene, the naked ape, the bell curve and all the other pseudo-science developed by the rich to justify treating us like machines.

“The poor are poor because they want to. That’s what I heard her saying. It made me angry but I didn’t know how to dispute that,” said my roommate Eva as we sat around the table. She was visibly distressed.

“The sayings and cliches of the rich are meant to rationalize our poverty. They say stuff like that, mostly to themselves though sometimes in public, to make themselves feel better about the miseries of the world that they created,” I responded.

“Hmmm. Yeah, I guess I buy that… I don’t know, Rosa, sometimes I can’t tell what you mean..”

I got up and picked up the dishes from our table. I had the intention of washing them but my exhaustion pushed me towards my bed in the living room. I live with six other women maquila workers in a small one-bedroom apartment intended for two people. All of us are from the small town of Tecoanapa, Guerrero. The border hellspace we are in makes me have visions and dreams of the miserably poor Tecoanapa as a utopian territory existing centuries in the past, in a realm other than the one of the factory system, a territory where time, space and identities are corroded and eventually erased, throwing us into an empty space designed for machines rather than humans. People become something other than humans after years of being here, and once you were here it was hard to leave because of the system of traps in place to keep us in. The system of credit, debt, wages, loans and always looming the threat of unemployment trapped us.

During my first years in Reynosa, Tamaulipas, now renamed Maquila City by the ruling elites in an attempt to sell it as a megalopolis completely subservient to the international masters, I talked about my dream to everyone. I had the simple aspiration of saving enough money to build a house back home and to never have to work again. “I’d rather be poor and not have to work as long as I have a roof and some food,” I used to say, attempting to convince myself and others that there was a way out of the hell. The dream eventually evaporated or was exported to China along with the commodities I produce sixty hours a week. About the time my ability to desire was deflated I read about the rise of the class struggle in China, so logically i knew that’s where my desire was to be found, in the barracks amongst the Chinese workers and students who held banners denouncing the world of work which I also hated. One of the things about our work at the factory was its way of reducing your capacity to desire and messing with our heads. Karl Marx wrote about the effects machinery under capitalism has on our minds in one of his books. I wrote down his quote when one of my friends read it to me.

“Labor is replaced by machines, but it throws one section of the workers back into barbarous types of labor and it turns the other section into a machine. It produces intelligence - but for the worker, stupidity, cretinism.”

The view from my bed consisted of three crumbling white walls with no paintings or pictures and a window that offered a view of the Pan American Transnational Highway and its endless waves of truckers, traffic, border-enforcement drones and police robots. The sound of commerce and repression came swiftly through our tiny walls and windows, a vomit of highway noises and drone sirens and decomposing truck motors. It created an unacknowledged sense of eeriness that went unperceived most of the time due to its pervasiveness. Sometimes I believed that the people responsible for designing Maquila City wanted to make us feel like machines ourselves. Everything about the city pushed you to behave and think like a machine- automatically, lacking consciousness and a sense of being. Every move you made had already been decided by someone else, there was no reason to think for yourself.

The living room window opened up a view of the city at night and I liked staring at it. Eventually it became a daily reminder of the MegaMachine that had trapped me and all those out there being worked to death throughout and beyond the night. That’s what I started calling Maquila City a few years ago, the MegaMachine. I knew that there were better words to describe it, I just didn’t know them, at least not yet. Sometimes I would feel a sense of unity and solidarity with the people and things I saw through the window, including the drones and the killing robots that had been created and coded to become enemies of humanity. Most of the time I stared at the highway because I became transfixed by the show of lights - mostly white, red, green, and blue - coming from all directions, altitudes, moving through space like sinister mechanical fireflies. After all these years I still wasn’t used to the cheap spectacles offered by the city, yet there was nothing else to do or observe.

Every day was the same thing. Walking to work with my roommates, who were still not quite my friends, I’d stare at the hallucinatory desert sand blowing around dead fields and the alien buildings and factories. There was nothing beyond them but more desert, death and the dehydrated visions of those that have tried to escape and the joy of those that had made it. I had gotten used to the way the area around the maquila made us forgot everything about ourselves - our real serves, the selves under the superficial identities of name, age, sex, gender, and nationality. The nearer you got to it, the more disoriented you felt, the more ready you became to become one with the machine.

Twelve guards stood outside the prison-like gates. They carried machine guns, bombs, and death technologies that we couldn’t name. Five stood inside the gate, five outside, and the other two guarded a war tower in the middle of the artificial court yard. The bosses told us to not be intimidated by their private military as they were just there to protect the commodities we were producing from narcos, bandits, emancipated cyborgs and other groups that pledge alliance to laziness or what they called tortuguismo. It had taken decades but the subversion against the factory system and the tyranny of work were finally appearing again.

One of the union organizers I met years ago, at some point in 2098, told me about why the bosses hired mostly girls and women. She said it was because of the mythology of femininity: the soft-hands, passive behavior and submissive character that is attributed to us made us attractive to those that want to exploit without encountering resistance. In their eyes, we were the equivalent of cyborgs. They believe that we are the nearest they have to access their utopia of a world without workers.

Everyday was the same at my workstation, as well. I stood in front of a machine that will force me to repeat the same act over and over again for at least the next 12 hours. I entered a particular frame of thought as I turn on the machine: I concentrate on the repetitive task until it becomes a compulsive act, until I become an appendix of the machine, both in a phenomenological and ontological sense. Then my mind breaks free and I regain a sense of self. I usually thought about work, workers and their hands, legs, limbs and other body parts they had brutally lost for the sake of the bosses profits, about the nature of time in the maquila, where each passing second injures your body and mind. I thought about the dialectic of friends and solitude, the unnecessarily hour-long walks home, and the threatening shadow of the sons of the elite that roamed around the MegaMachine abusing and killing the women that produced their families wealth. The devil comes to mind as he represents both the evil banality of the shadow beasts of the elite, as well as the spirit of revenge growing in China and in the maquilas of the border and I’m sure in other parts of the world, too.

“Last night a group of gachupines stopped in front of me. They were driving a BMW. When they lowered their windows I saw the driver pointing a gun at me. I remember him smiling - it was nightmarish. I froze as they laughed, some hysterically. The driver was telling them to imagine if he’d shoot me, they continued laughing and then drove away.” My friend spoke about her experience during breakfast and we stood there quietly. These where the usual stories that we told each other every morning, so no one really felt like saying anything. There was nothing left to say. All we could do was accept that reality and confront the devil when we encountered him along the desert roads.

The savages came from various social backgrounds, some had been born into it while others arrived seeking to convert death into money. They all adopted to their families, to their assigned microscopic world and their (anti)social role. They were the agents in training of the MegaMachine. In today’s world, the state and the economy depend on the alliance between legal and illegal forms of commodity production. This alliance created a social world for this parasitic strata that were known as the members of respectable society. As kids, they were all sent to the same U.S. military schools - “they’ll teach them how to become men!” their fathers would say -, they owned property in the same cities across the U.S. - Aspen, Colorado, Austin, Texas, New York City. They were also united by a shared cultural code, a shared sense of ritual, folklore, fashion and aesthetics. For any outsider, their shared cultural world would be indistinguishable from a society of cannibals. But, in our world, they were the members of respectable society.

The threat of violence and exploitation constituted our days and nights. It made us nonexistent. Before leaving to work, we tried to dedicate 10 minutes to drinking coffee and doing nothing. It was our daily confirmation that we still held some autonomy over our lives, and if we did then maybe we could have more, somehow. The walk to work started while it was still dark and we arrived at the maquila at day break. This morning we received news from the dictators that ruled over maquilas. They announced their reports over a series of megaphones placed around the dirt roads:

“We are going to be growing and generating 50 thousand new jobs in the IMMEX sector. In 2064 we closed with 270 billion dollars and we think that we can easily achieve the rounding of 300 billion driven by the elimination of the uncertainty of the T-MEC. We have every confidence that it will be implemented in the second half of the year - and for that, we need you all to do your best in terms of productivity and please remember that we will be keeping tabs on your levels of input. We need to keep this up and we must have confidence in ourselves and, if foreigners are trusting in investment in Mexico, then we should too.”

The walk to the factory was a terror in itself. Those we called the savages, the gachupines, the sons of the local caciques, roamed the area searching for whatever form of aggression and violence would satisfy them temporarily and we were usually their target. The savages, the sons of narcos, politicians, businessmen and bankers and all other kinds of criminals saw MegaMachine as their playground and the women workers as their property, just like their fathers saws the city and the country. I knew this. The hundreds of thousands of women maquila workers knew it, too. They believed there was little they could do about it. They lived in misery and prayed to God for another day. My coworker Marina, an elderly woman in her late seventies, once told me that religion offered her a will to life that carried within it a hatred for all the anti-life forces that currently dominate society. I later realized that most Maquila workers knew this, they just didn’t talk about it, nor had they had the time to think about it in decades.

We knew that they called us carne de monte. It was one of the ways they used language to dehumanize us in order to rationalize their demented behavior towards us. It probably also helped them make their barbarism more bearable in their minds. The new generation of savages are the heirs of Juan Guines Sepúlveda, the Spanish philosopher that defended the right of the Spanish crown to enslave, torture and kill the masses of the Americas on the grounds that they were not human beings. Sepulveda’s colonial worldview has persisted since the 15th century, now manifesting in the ideology of the sons of the local elites at a time of social decay and failing economies. He expressed the worldview and innermost beliefs of the savages back in the 16th century:

“Those who surpass the rest in prudence and intelligence, although not in physical strength, are by nature the masters. On the other hand, those who are dim-witted and mentally lazy, although they may be physically strong enough to fulfill all the necessary tasks, are by nature slaves. It is just and useful that it be this way. He who is stupid will serve the wise man. And so it is with the barbarous and inhumane people - the Indians - who have no civil life and peaceful customs. It will always be just and in conformity with natural law that such people submit to the rule of more cultured and humane princes’ and nations.”

Their delusion of having being born masters is what grounds them in the world and defines their sense of self worth, their pseudo-humanity. If they weren’t the masters ruling over slaves, who where they? This was a question that never crossed their minds. Their dogma was established: “It is just and useful that it be this way.” This is the creed they are raised with, they had been told they were the masters by their families, the church and the state until it was engraved in their unconscious. The savages owned nightclubs, produced cocaine and heroine, controlled the political establishment, the maquiladoras, construction companies, parking lots, and basically everything else that exists in modern cities. They owned the jails and the judges and the local police force. They also owned us. Sepúlveda absolved them of their sins. If the poor had a hole where their soul should be, they were free to treat us worse than animals, like objects.

*

At six minutes before midnight, Vicente Niebla was doing lines of coke as he sat in his Porsche GT6 next to an OXXO. He was with three… allies, or business-partners.

“Pass that shit, jefe.”

“We all need it. I can’t do this shit without being high. It helps me bring out the monster.”

Vicente gave them the bag of coke to shut them up. He looked down at his new Rolex watch, feeling proud of how far he had gotten, how much farther than his father on whose shoulders he stood. In recent years he had turned his body into a shrine to his father. It was covered in tattoos of the spectral symbols surrounding him and his death: the names of ranches, horse saddles, machine guns, and a hyperrealist portrait of him on his chest. He began to think about the respect he was shown in his circles as being entirely due to the achievements of his father - something that kept him awake at nights - but he shook off the thought quickly. He had to concentrate on locating and abducting the next unfortunate woman that crossed his path. It’s what the boss wants, he told himself.

The old ladies staring through their windows at midnight, hoping to catch a glimpse of love, sentiment, affection, things which they could only access through their implanted memory systems or movies, took notice of the out of place car. They knew why it was there. They prayed to God and told each other stories of the Devil over the phone. “The devil is loose and its brigade of ghouls and monsters have even taken over the souls of our poor sons. Even the sons of the poor have been taken by the beast. So I pray, I spend most of the day praying for compassion.” “Amen.” It was typical for the older generation of factory workers to have shrines dedicated to Our Lady of Sacrifice Santa Carmela. She had become a deity after leading the last wave of union struggles in the maquiladoras that led to the massacre of 2038. Carmela had been decapitated in the central plaza and her decomposing head exhibited for weeks. For the crushed maquila workers she became a ghost and a deity. They talked with her to give some meaning to their lonely lives. They prayed to her because they believed in the magical cosmovision opened up by the mysticism of religion: they believed in ghosts and spirits and angels because of their capacity to intervene in the world on behalf of those lacking any power over their lives.

The Porsche was still parked on the corner of Ixtepec and Ponciano Arriaga. Vicente turned on the new military technology he had recently installed in his vehicle in order to search for his prey. The technology allowed you to see and track anyone within a two mile radius by tapping into the extensive camera system installed throughout the city to spy on the population. Vicente moved a play stick around the screen until a group of women appeared. His mechanical eye began to follow them. “It’s time. It’s what the boss wants. Did I tell you guys he needs eight a week now? Business is looking good. That’s all it is, it’s business. Remember that.”

The last thing Rosa saw that night was a black car creeping up on her and someone coming at her. Before her world went black she caught a glimpse of the savages: Rolex watch, gold-plated gun, foreign car, diamonds and a crazy-eyed and strung-out kid with no desire other than to kill for money. She then realized these were the last snapshots las desaparecidas see before being taken to be stripped of their dignity and their short lives.

[letsbenditlikebennett]

Wake Me Up Before You Van Gogh Gogh || Ariana & Hikari

TIMING: Before Season 3 Finale PARTIES: @hikarinarisawa & @letsbenditlikebennett SUMMARY: Hikari stops by a house in the Outskirts to sell her wares and meets a very groggy Ariana.

Hikari was not like most traveling salespeople. For one, she didn’t go door-to-door wearing a suit and selling inconsequential household products like vacuum cleaners or encyclopedias. Hikari went door-to-door wearing a black dress, often looking like she had gotten lost on her way to some party exclusive to Hollywood elites, and selling sometimes-cursed artifacts from bygone eras. For most of her career, Hikari had been all over the world, brushing elbows with actual elites, not just from Hollywood, but after a certain event that exposed her obsolete grasp of how the world had changed and left her in its dust, she had found herself living in some weird exterminator’s massive place, barely able to pay rent, in some sleepy town with a pretty interesting death rate. This must be where the dead go to die.

It wasn’t all bad, though. Hikari had met some interesting folks, especially on the line, including potential long-term clients. Or just clients. Most of them: just one-off clients. Although she did have the Museum of Monstrosities in her back pocket, having dealt with them throughout the years, supplying a lot of their strange antiquities on display, it still felt different to her, being out there on the field, going door-to-door in her ill-advised dresses and selling her dangerous wares to unsuspecting, often oblivious clients. That was why she was now in front of the first door she had spotted while wandering over the Outskirts to see if she could score some nearer patsies buyers.

With three raps on the front door, Hikari announced her presence. “Hello? Is anyone home?”

It wasn’t uncommon to find Ariana passed out on her couch midday with a dog and an ovinnik on either side of her. Late night shifts paired with her natural proclivity for the night meant daytime was the perfect time to catch some sleep. While the knock on her door didn’t immediately register, Luna’s bark was enough to make her shuffle off the sofa and toward the front door. “Stay,” she directed Luna as opened up the door to reveal a beautiful woman in a black dress. Had to be someone here for Nell or Kitty… which good for them. This woman was hot and in this house they supported all thot-activities. 

She rubbed the last of sleep from her eyes, but still squinted with the harsh sunlight peaking in. Moonlight was just so much better. She gathered herself enough to finally speak. “Hey,” she started, “Yep, I’m home. Were you looking for Nell or Kitty or something?”

As soon as the door opened, Hikari put on her best smile, discreetly looking over the other girl from head to toe, as if studying her, trying to figure out if she was the woman of the house or someone of equal importance, especially when it comes to purchasing things. Other salespeople would probably take a step back at the sudden opening of the door, the sleepy greeting, but not Hikari. Those salespeople are probably either dumb or new, and the kitsune was neither. She had been at this for a few decades now. She was pretty much a master at her craft. If only she knew how to use a computer and the Internet.

“Nell? Kitty?” What strange names. Regardless, Hikari took out her business card from within the black handbag that she carried with her, that also contained numerous foldable catalogs that made carrying all of her artifacts unnecessary. It was one thing to always bring with her an Egyptian ritual knife. It was another for that item to be cursed by a really angry and definitely sore loser of a pharaoh. Imhotep really needs to learn the art of letting go. “My name’s Hikari Narisawa, and I’m a traveling salesperson. I actually just live within the area, and I had free time, so I thought why not make the acquaintance of my neighbors? Perhaps, I can even be of service to you and your…friends. May I come in?”

Ariana blinked slowly a few times as she woke up a bit more and assessed the situation. The woman clearly had no idea who Nell and Kitty were, which begged the question of why she was here. Her hand came out to smooth out what was surely her messy hair. It was weird for someone to show up to the house unexpectedly. They weren’t exactly along the way for most people. Hell, she couldn’t even get an UberEats order on a good day. She shifted on her feet and leaned against the doorframe. “Yeah, my roommates,” she questioned with a confused gaze. 

Then Hikari explained why she was here. A traveling salesperson in the Outskirts? Surely there were better parts of town for this, but she supposed if she lived in the area it was okay. Before really thinking about that too much, she stepped to the side and said, “Hi Hikari, I’m Ariana. Come in.” 

She was trying to remember her manners and hospitality despite the fact her brain was still in a sleep induced fog. Wait, should she have invited a stranger in? A little too late to worry about that. Right, manners! “Could I get you a coffee or tea or something? Definitely need a coffee myself,” she offered tiredly. She led her over to the table in the kitchen and started putting some coffee in the machine. “What is it that you sell,” she asked with a quirked eyebrow? 

“Pleasure to meet you, Ariana.” With a well-practiced smile, Hikari entered the residence and immediately looked over everything her eyes could see, curious and impressed. Grant’s residence, which she currently rents, was by no means inferior to this house, but for the first time in her long life, Hikari wasn’t quite sure which one was superior. Well, for the first time in a long while anyway. “Oh, you live with two roommates? That’s nice… Where are they now?” 

“You are allowed to make purchases, though, aren’t you?” The question wasn’t meant to offend, though Hikari was never known to better filter her words. She had made the same mistake before, wasting her time trying to sell her wares to someone who couldn’t even buy anything, so she’s learned over the years to at least clarify that in order to not waste anyone’s time, especially hers, ever again. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything. I won’t take long.”

“Coffee would be all right. She preferred tea but didn’t really want to make a case for it. She wasn’t there to drink coffee or tea. She was there to make a sale. Any effort on that part would be useless, and she didn’t want to risk turning a potential client sour for the added work of preparing something other than what they were already making. “Oh, I sell a variety of things, mostly artifacts and antiquities. I also have paintings from times of old. Would you be interested in such things?”

“I think so, I’m not much for living alone and I don’t have any living family,” Ariana said with a shrug, “Probably at work?” She wasn’t really sure. She’d gone for a late night run after her last shift at Siren’s Serenade and had only gotten home just past sunrise before passing out on the couch watching Master Chef. She stopped in the middle of putting grounds into the filter when she was asked if she was allowed to purchase things. That question, while not surprising, irritated her. Why did everyone always assume she was a child? She was nearly 20! She had a job and bills! Her brows knit together and she grumbled, “Of course I’m allowed to buy things, I’m an adult.” 

While she knew her height didn’t do her many favors in that department, it still annoyed her. Ariana had to grow up far sooner than most kids, and while she joked around, she was for better or worse pretty responsible. She took a deep breath and returned to preparing the coffee that she needed and her unexpected guest agreed on. Now that the question of whether she could purchase something was posed, she found herself wanting to purchase something just to prove she could. 

Once the pot was set to brew, Ariana returned her attention to Hikari. She didn’t have much use for artifacts, that seemed more Nell’s jam, but she did like paintings. “What kind of paintings,” she asked with a quirked brow.

Hikari raised an eyebrow at Ariana’s revelations. She wasn’t expecting herself to run into someone who, heaven forbid, made her feel, as the kids would say these days, the “same”, but there she was. Hikari did live alone, however, and she did not mind it as much, but she was the last of her bloodline. Or so she believed.

 “I see…” Hikari nodded pensively at her until she seemed…offended. By something. “Oh, of course! I can see that as well…” Oblivious to the cause of the knitted eyebrows, Hikari heaved a sigh and ended up looking around some more. “Well, I’m glad to hear your accounts aren’t frozen, Ariana.” When she shifted her attention back to the girl, she brought with her a charming smile. The house did indeed seem empty, with the exception of the two of them. It was a shame she had not arrived at the most opportune moment. Now she has minus two potential customers. “Do you own this house? It’s very beautiful.”

At her question, Hikari fluttered towards her, taking out a small brochure from her handbag as she did. As soon as it was out in the open, she closed her bag and offered it to the other woman with a warm smile. The brochure wasn’t made in the last decade, so its appearance was very…old. Some of the contents, the selections, were already sold, so they had been marked with giant ugly Xs. “Here you go. I have paintings from some of the best artists of the Renaissance, with the exception of those by Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, whose works have already been sold, and Raffaello Sanzio da Urbino, who is a complete idiot.” Or so she was told.  

Once the coffee was done brewing, Ariana poured some of it into two mugs. She placed on in front of Hikari and one at her normal seat before grabbing cream and sugar to bring over to the table. She preferred hers black, but she’d be a good host… to a salesperson. The mention of frozen accounts caused her to tilt her head. “How does one freeze an account? Money can’t melt, can it?” She was genuinely confused by that phrase and took a long sip from her coffee as she contemplated all the things that could mean. Her attention was drawn back to Hikari when she asked a question, “Oh, no. My roommate Nell does. She’s not much for living alone either so here I am. I built most of the furniture though, including this table.” She patted the tabletop with a proud look on her face. 

She began looking through the brochure. A lot of this stuff looked old as fuck though some of it a bit cryptic which would vibe with Nell and the whole witchy thing. She flipped through the paintings and finally asked, “Any wolf paintings mixed in here? Oh, or something with the moon?” Subtle, Ariana, subtle. She shrunk in her seat a bit realizing she probably just outed herself as a werewolf. Not that it was a huge secret. And she had her doubts this woman was a hunter. “Do you like work for a store or are these items you own and are selling?” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Hikari shrugged before accepting the mug of coffee with a smile, immediately making sure to warm her hands and take a good long sniff of that awakening brew. “I don’t work in a bank. Well, coins can, I think? Paper bills just burn. Just like checks.” The kitsune took a careful sip while her eyes remained on the other woman, though they quickly moved towards the furniture when she revealed her skill. “Oh! You make furniture? Well, isn’t that quite interesting. Do you sell some of what you make?”

Hikari had joined the art trade only recently and as a joke, when another client mocked her and challenged her skills in terms of selling someone that wasn’t as practical as cursed swords or cursed jewelry—okay, most of her old stuff were cursed—but she never really cared enough to learn—the art she traded and the art world in general. The paintings looked good—well, some of them—and most of the time, that was enough. “Wolf paintings? Oh, I don’t think so. I don’t think they were that big, so to speak, during the Renaissance.” But they were. 

“Some of them, I own. The rest are from other collectors who simply use me as a means to make the sale.” Hikari looked over the woman again, but this time, honed in on their aura. It was small and somewhat claustrophobic, as if something else was trying to press it down, force it gone. It wasn’t as ordinary as she had expected. Ah… So she is something special. Of course. She took another sip of her mug, a playful smirk on her lips. “What is it about wolves and the moon that you like? The romance of a curse? The tragedy of two existences trapped in one body?”

“Huh, makes sense,” Ariana mused as she thought it over. She didn’t work in a bank either, so that was about as much as she knew about money outside of how to spend it irresponsibly. With a shrug, she added, “Burning or melting money seems like kind of waste anyway.” If money is going to be wasted, it should at least be fun. She sipped from her coffee mug and smiled slightly. Part of her missed trade school, but she wasn’t even sure if that was the route in life she’d take anymore. It seemed too stagnant, too removed from all the issues that she wanted to help. “I used to sell more of it on Etsy. It’s been a while since I’ve done a commission or anything. I lived on the road for a while and am just now getting settled into having a nice little workshop again.” 

Ariana tilted her head slightly. She guessed there weren’t many werewolf painters during the Renaissance. Not that she knew all that much about the Renaissance other than there were fairies for it all over the country. “Too bad,” she said casually, “They’re quite majestic animals. Anything kind of nature-y then?” Not that she’d say their home really had one aesthetic, but nature and the moon seemed to be where they all aligned. 

“That’s a pretty cool gig. Do you work with the local gallery at all” Ariana commented. It wasn’t really her style, but cool nonetheless. She was pretty sure she didn’t know enough about art for all of that. She could make art, but she didn’t know what qualified something as “good:” art. It dawned on her she could always ask Metzli. The next question caught her off guard and her face faltered for a moment. She set her mug down on the pine table, but kept her hands clasped around it to keep them occupied. When the mention of curse or being trapped made her frown. She huffed and shook her head. “It seems like you already guessed the answer, but I would call it a curse or being trapped. The full moon is freeing. I guess it can get a little overwhelming in crowds sometimes, but overall, I’m happy with what I am. What my family was.” She probably just gave herself away, but she didn’t care all that much. Something told her this woman wasn’t a ranger.

“What’s an Etsy?” After the explanation, Hikari’s curiosity got the better of her, which almost always happens anyway, and she gave the lady of the house an eyebrow raise, still cupping her cup of coffee with both hands. “Oh, well, if you’re interested in nature,” the kitsune briefly looked around for a place to park her mug before going back into her purse in search of something. Retrieving two pamphlets, she surrendered them both to Ariana with a wide grin. “Perhaps you’d be interested in a Claude Monet or a Henri Rousseau?”

“There’s a local gallery in town?” Hikari should have expected such a thing to have existed around this place, though she really made no effort in confirming its existence. Or lack thereof. She had spent the last few months feuding with her landlord and her computer, technology in general, that she was unable to focus on the one aspect of her craft she barely put effort into. Also, there was that whole tree thing and she was stood up by that strange friend she had wanted to meet. His loss. “Crowds are more of a hindrance than a good thing these days, anyway. The more people, the more confusing things get, and the next thing you know, you’re being led to a cliff by everyone else, hand in hand.”

It was an odd thing to share, and part of Hikari didn’t really believe it, but she also didn’t believe in art, most of it anyway, yet she was here, peddling the works of the greatest artists in the world, none of which she actually respected or cared for. How could she? She spent most of her life walled in by war and swords, not artists and easels. Otherwise, perhaps she wouldn’t have lost so much, only to gain so little. “Oh, you’re being literal, aren’t you? You are… Well, isn’t that interesting. Are your friends also what you are?”

“Oh, it’s like an online marketplace. You take photos and list items you’ve made and put them in an online store,” Ariana explained. She wasn’t sure why she was surprised Hikari hadn’t heard of Etsy, but she realized she probably shouldn’t have been. This was a woman walking door to door in the Outskirts of all places to sell art. She looked over some of the paintings as she spoke. Nothing was really calling out to her. She glanced back up at Hikari, unsure if she was supposed to know who those artists were. With a quizzical look she answered, “Yeah, I’ll take a look at those.” 

“Yeah, it’s downtown. I think it’s called like Crest Works or something,” Ariana offered with a shrug. She took another gulp of coffee and started to feel more awake. It dawned on her that it was weird that someone selling art didn’t know there was a gallery in town. There was always the chance she could be traveling. White Crest could be pretty transient. The woman didn’t give her a particularly uneasy feeling though. They were sitting at the dining table like normal people drinking coffee. Not a very threatening vibe. “They do make it harder to get places,” she mused with a small smile, “And just a little overwhelming sometimes. That's why I like the Outskirts.” 

Ariana couldn’t get a good read on what was going through Hikari’s head. Her question at least confirmed she wasn’t a ranger. “I do that sometimes,” she said with an amused huff of air, “A few, yeah.” For once, she didn’t feel the need to elaborate further. They were speaking vaguely which was probably for the better. She thumbed through one of the new pamphlets and had to squint to get a view of what she was looking at. It was clearly some sort of less realistic style of painting that used a lot of colors she couldn’t see. Nature did have a tendency to be in shades of green. Without the clear lines, everything looked like different shades of brown speckled together. “What about this one,” she asked as she pointed to a painting that vaguely looked like sunflowers. 

“Online? Oh, like through the box thing, yes, I’ve heard of it,” Hikari heaved a sigh of disappointment after taking a few seconds to catch up to Ariana’s train of thought. The kitsune wasn’t that well-versed when it comes to technology, more out of stubbornness than anything really, and that includes actual trains. She has ridden on one, of course, even sailed on a ship, but there was a stark difference between knowing the many ways to utilize a knife to its full potential and just stabbing a potato outright. “I wouldn’t put all my faith and trust on those things, though,” she continued with a dismissive shrug. “Nothing beats actual salespeople, meeting them, talking to them in person, looking them in the eye and knowing you’ve made the best purchase of your life with a handshake.”

“Crest Works, huh? Strange name,” Hikari muttered, the irony of her own terrible creative prowess, or more precisely lack thereof, lost on her. “I don’t think I’ve ever been there, but I’ll give them a look around, see if they’re selling or even buying the greatest art known to man.” She looked around the place again, as if memorizing the room for reasons she herself didn’t even know. “There is something about this place, isn’t there? Something magical and just full of interesting things.”

With a smile, Hikari returned her gaze to the young woman, watching her go over the pamphlets that haven’t been updated for more than a year or so. “Oh, a Van Gogh? Well, aren’t you a woman after my own heart. Probably because we’re like cousins, sniffing out the rare greatness in the midst of all the mundane men.” It was an odd connection to make, a kitsune and a wolf person being cousins, but it was what came to mind at the time, and for some reason, Hikari couldn’t resist a good opportunity for wordplay. “Did you know there’s actually an interesting story behind that very painting?” She paused, not actually knowing that very story, only faintly remembering it. 

 “Yeah, like the box things,” Ariana explained with a smile. She’d never really thought of it in that way. It was so convenient and not really something she did seriously. Once upon a time it had been, but she didn’t do anything all that seriously anymore. Even the rose-colored glasses from her first few weeks of bartending were long gone. It seemed Hikari really loved and believed in what she did. “I get that,” she responded easily, “It’s a little more personal and you get to interact with people. I see the appeal. I think a lot of people enjoy the convenience of online shopping. But I do enjoy the local farmer’s market for that reason. Just… don’t buy the watermelon.” 

It had been nearly two years and Ariana was still bitter that a biting watermelon ruined her favorite pair of boots. She hadn’t been able to find the same ones in her size since. She also hadn’t eaten watermelon since. There was a tilt in her head as she listened to Hikari with her mug cradled in her hands. “I don’t know if it’s referencing something or just a play on the town name, honestly. But yeah, it seems like it’d be a good place for you to check out.” She couldn’t help but let out a bark at the mention of there being something about White Crest. Hikari wasn’t wrong there. She’d felt it when she got her too. It made her feel hopeful then, now it just made her feel on edge, as if someone else she loved could just be ripped away from her again at any minute. “There’s definitely something. I don’t know what it is, but there are a lot who are drawn to this place. Gives people hope that they’re not alone. There’s a lot of actual magic, but…” She trailed off and looked down at her cup. “It’s dangerous, too. So, uh, be careful out there.” 

Van Gogh. She’d actually heard that name before. He’d done that one painting with the swirly moon and stars. That one was easier for Ariana to see clearly with all of its shades of yellow. That recognition quickly fell away when she mentioned being like cousins and the emphasis on sniffing. Her eyes shot up and her brow arched in question. The haze of just waking up paired with being a week out from the full moon had left her skipping her usual sniff check. “Cousins,” she started slowly as she sniffed to catch Hikari’s scent. It was dull as her senses weren’t at their sharpest, but there was something vaguely canine though it wasn’t as familiar as another wolf would be. “I see,” she said with a smile forming, “Didn’t realize us wolves had cousins. I know not literally, but it’s… refreshing?” Her eyes shifted back to the painting as she mentioned a story behind the painting. “What’s the story behind it?” 

Hikari took to it as a gift, the way she made people believe that what she does for a living is something she believes in, something she enjoys. The truth of the matter? That she herself believes? It’s all one big lie, a pretty mask to draw the suitors in, like flame to the moths. This was never the life she chose, only one she was bound to because of a silly little promise she made to an ephemeral soul, a half-remembered acquaintance she could mostly only remember these days on their dying bed. Still, most lies have some hints of truth in them, don’t they? Hikari would never even dream of considering that tiny speck of hope, though. She could never. Even if she actually tried. 

“Convenience is just another name for sloth, and sloth is the enemy of success,” she muttered a frequent phrase shared in her line of work, another half-believed truth. Hikari tilted her head to one side, narrowing her eyes when the conversation dragged the local farmer’s market into the fray. “Yes, I suppose that’s quite similar, isn’t it? Oh, I learned that watermelon mistake the hard way. My landlord didn’t talk to me for days.” That reaction was certainly interesting to the kitsune, though she tried her best to downplay it for now. “Actual magic? Like that giant tree in the woods? That was quite interesting, too, though I made the mistake of shrugging it off, so I could meet a new friend, strange that he seemed to be.” She shrugged and then heaved a sigh. “This town draws strange like a magnet would steel.”

“Refreshing isn’t exactly the word I would use,” Hikari smirked, even though it was precisely the same word she would’ve used at that exact moment in time. English was not her first language, not even her third, so most of the things that came out of her mouth always seemed to be drawn from quotes or lines in old movies or stories, cliches, tweaked in the littlest ways possible to sound distinct despite the obvious familiarity. “Family reunions don’t always end well.” It had been centuries since she was in anything remotely resembling a family reunion. Perhaps she was just longing for those good old days that she takes easily to strangers as substitutes for that familial feeling. “Oh, uhm, something about an art colony and a house… You know how artists can be, quite strange really, too in the air to make practical sense a lot of the time.” She tried to sell the story off as nothing important, if only to save herself from the embarrassment of having to admit she had no idea what she was talking about.

 This woman was giving off some serious boomer energy. Ariana typically enjoyed doing a lot of tasks manually just for the sake of movement, but she wouldn’t deny herself some conveniences. Like grabbing takeout instead of cooking after the end of a long shift or microwaving the water for her tea. If her TikTok following was anything to go by, Ari also enjoyed her smartphone as much as any young twenty something would. “I guess,” she said with a shrug, “Amazon doesn’t really ship this far out anyway.” 

“I’ve learned not to trust most plants at this point,” Ariana told Hikari with a bit of a laugh, “Hopefully your landlord got over it.” The plants in this town were straight up disrespectful. She was a wolf, a predator. Plants weren’t supposed to try and eat her. The mention of the tree only further served her point. “Yes, magic like the tree,” she explained, “Or like you know witches and magic. Or mime magic which is definitely worse.” Hikari was definitely right about the town drawing in strange. It was the very reason she found herself here in this very kitchen drinking coffee in a house she shared with a witch, a couple of demons, and another werewolf. Now with an apparent cousin… whatever that meant. 

“Oh,” Ariana questioned with a raised brow, “Can’t say I have a lot of experience with family reunions. Are you some sort of other canine shifter?” She guessed the Aquillas kidnapping her was a family reunion for Celeste and she grimaced at that thought. To say that ended poorly would be a gross understatement. She focused back on the story about the painting. That had to be happier, it was a beautiful painting after all. The story only left her more confused as she didn’t understand art colonies, but she decided against pressing. All she really cared about was the aesthetic anyway. “Not really, but I’ll take your word for it,” she joked. She set the now empty mug down on the table and glanced at the painting in the brochure again. “So how does the whole getting the painting work? I pay you and it’s delivered?” 

Hikari tensed up and advanced on Ariana immediately, a more serious demeanor taking over her previously friendly face, putting a hand on each of her shoulders, as if holding her tightly for fear of losing her to foreign waters. Or worse, the vengeful women of the Greek archipelago. “You have also met the Amazons? Do you know one hiding out here, in the town? They cannot be trusted, especially the woman with the sculpted nose. Like witches or the plants in this town.”

“Although, I myself have not made the personable acquaintance with your town’s most famous mimes,” Hikari let her go, her mind already wandering elsewhere. When was the last time she even encountered one of those venomous Amazons? A few centuries ago? Why would any one of them be out in this sleepy town, anyway? It would be too boring and maybe even too cold for their savage ways. “I have heard many…questionable things about your mimes, though this is the first time someone has told me that they practice magic.”

At the more personal question, Hikari could not help but put a smile on her own face, “I suppose you could say that. Have you heard of a…kitsune? Or maybe a kumiho, if you’re one of those people currently enamored with those shows? Definitely not a huxian. Not a lot knows what they are.” She started to ramble again but immediately brought herself back to the present conversation. “Well, we do have different payment plans, but if that’s what you’re most interested in, absolutely! Your other options are the half-and-half, where you pay me half of the total cost, I deliver the product to you, and then you pay the other half of the total cost once you’ve received the product. How does that sound?”

  Ariana was quick to school her features into a harsh glare upon Hikari encroaching her space. She had to level a breath to simmer down her body’s instinct to hop immediately into fight mode. Considering the constant nightmares and festering grief, she was already on edge. The hand firmly on her shoulder had her veins buzzing and her bones itching to shift. She took a moment and counted to five in her head before she finally responded, “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I’m talking about the online company that ships literally everything you could think of? No woman with a pointed nose, but I guess Jeff Bezos is a little creepy to look at in a ‘eat the rich’, symbol of greed way? Also, maybe don’t surprise spring on a sleepy werewolf.”  

She snorted out a laugh. “Good for you. I really wish I could say the same,” Ariana said with a cringe, “I don’t know if it's magic or like they’re their own species? Either way, they’re sus and I hate them.” Even though this woman was kind of strange, she would rather her not have the misfortune of encountering the mimes. Plus, based on the whole cousin comment, she figured Hikari was probably ancient to be this out of touch with the current era. 

Ariana tilted her head and watched Hikari with a question mark written all over her face as she spoke. She hadn’t heard of a kitsune, kumiho, or a huxian before. She assumed some sort of canine shifter. Coyote? Fox? Hyena? “I don’t watch a lot of supernatural shows, my life is crazy enough. Prefer to keep the crazy out of my entertainment… unless you call some of the cooking challenges on Master Chef crazy. I’m gonna take a guess and say fellow canine?” And long lived, now with some context, she was sure Hikari had to be ancient. Seemed a bit rude to point that out though. When payment came up, she paid close attention. “Half now, half when you deliver the painting is fine by me. Seems easiest. I can grab some cash from my room real quick. How much is this?” 

Hikari watched her reaction with wild amusement, the fox in her keen to play around, even if danger was lurking extremely close by. “Oh,” the disappointment was clear in her tone. “Yes, I suppose that is a thing.” Hikari was not well-versed with the thing, however. She had heard about it, hated it through the complaints of her fellow traveling salespeople, but she had yet to use it herself. Among other things. The death of their field, their craft, one of them had called it, though for the life of her, the kitsune had little to no fear about this so-called death. “Hmm, still very territorial, I see, though it’s understandable. After all, most of you were driven out of your territories, hunted away from your homes… Or so I’m told.”

“Have they done something horrible to you? These mimes?” Hikari slowly walked backwards, away from the werewolf, to give her her space now that she had confirmed for herself something that had always been a terrible curiosity for her. “I would assume they would be no match for an apex predator?” A werewolf in the Outskirts was nothing Hikari expected to come across, though with that whole tree thing, it was the least surprising. This was, more or less, akin to a family reunion to her who has never encountered another like her for the past few years. Something less lonely, I suppose.

“I suppose that is quite smart, especially after everything that has happened out here recently,” Hikari offered her a smug smile and a complimentary shrug. “But you’re not far off. A fox is still canine, though our kind have more tails than the mundane ones.” It was in 1987 London when the painting of dazzling yellow sunflowers was sold for more than three times the highest price ever paid for a painting at auction at that time. Today, the same anonymous foreign collector that had bought it for a friend was selling it at a much lower price, the same price Van Gogh himself would find nostalgic. Hikari’s first copy was destroyed in the second World War back home. “$432.13 in total, $216 upfront. Would that be all right?”

 The air seemed a bit lighter now that Ariana was able to confirm Amazon was an online business and not a group of people. Well, a group of employees maybe but they were hardly violent. The tension in her body ebbed away as her body caught up to the fact that no, she wasn’t in any real danger currently. The comment on being territorial made her laugh a bit. “I guess some of us probably are. I don’t think I am. It’s more my fight or flight response always defaults to the fight option.” 

“Too many times. At one point, they were like mime clones and they tried to kill you? Then they slipped me mime food and I was turned striped and silent. They also had something with soccer balls that turned into little mime monsters. They’re weird and sus,” Ariana explained with a look of disdain painted on her features. Even if she was an apex predator, the mimes made her uncomfortable. There was something creepy about them. It didn’t make her pause in fighting back, but more so it made everything black and white a bit off putting. “Not a match at all. They kind of taste like butter and stale bread.” 

“A fox, huh, that’s pretty awesome. And more tails? I’m sure your fox form must be beautiful. Are you a particularly long-lived species,” Ariana said with a wistful smile. Maybe she should go for a run on four legs today, but while she was alert, her body still felt fatigued. She listened for the price and counted out her cash. “Here you go, I’ll have the other half set aside whenever you come by to drop off the painting. I look forward to seeing you again.” 

“Well,” Hikari took her time to look Ariana dead in the eyes, trying her best to figure out whether the thing about the mimes was meant to be a joke or not. It definitely sounded like one to her, but who was she to laugh at that? Especially when Ariana looked every bit serious. Hikari had yet to meet these dreaded mimes and be inconvenienced by them. “I’ll be sure to keep my distance from them then, dearest cousin.” She grimaced at the idea of tasting mimes, never having had any taste for mortal flesh herself. To the kitsune, it was gross, even though she’s had a taste of blood before. Not intentionally, though. War and battles are just filled with them.

Hikari grinned before giving Ariana a quaint shrug. “Yes, and to be fair, I am always beautiful in whatever form I take.” She intentionally ignored the question about her age, not wanting to reveal that she was old enough to be everyone else’s grandma. At the sight of cold, hard cash, Hikari’s eyes widened in amazement. She was quick to take her fill, grinning from ear to ear. “I shall return the painting as soon as I can! Your trust in me will not be for naught. Toodles, cousin!” And with that, she pivoted on her heels, happy as a clam, and made her way out of the house. Before she fully disappeared through the front door, however, Hikari stole another glimpse of Ariana with the same wide grin a child at a candy store would have. “I’ll have the painting ready as soon as I can!”

“You’re not wrong there,” Ariana agreed with a laugh. The woman was beautiful in her more human appearing form as well. Ari was just curious to see what she looked like as a fox. They were one of her favorite animals and she could only imagine how stunning a supernatural one would be. Hikari seemed very eager about the sale. Ari liked the painting well enough though her purchase had been more to prove the point that she was an adult and has the power to make purchasing decisions. It wasn’t like she had a lot in the way of bills anyhow and every article of clothing she owned save a few had been from a thrift store. “Thank you, cousin,” she said with a grin and a wave, “I’ll be seeing you soon then.” And maybe one day, as a fox, though now she had a whole world of questions about kitsune lingering in her mind. She hopped on to the couch with the dogs and fell back asleep to dreams of a stunning fox with multiple tails.

[minkmousesworld]

Your hubby

𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞: omegaverse au (a/b/o), domestic au

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: nesting, heat / rut, mention of children

𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: ω! Sumyoshi x α! Reader

Sumiyoshi was your charming and charmed husband.

Sumiyoshi did not differ from other omegas in smell, appearance, or intelligence. He was hardworking and humble, could bring a smile to Your face and always knew how to support You — with a smell or words, actions or a look.

This may have been one of the main reasons why You agreed to exchange marriage marks with him. He has always been loyal to You and never let You think that there is someone else in his head.

Or perhaps because he looked so kind and sincere when he asked You to be his alpha, and you realized that you couldn't leave this level-headed, sweet omega.

You lived not too high up in the mountains, among the dense forests, which are rarely visited by residents of the village that stands at the foot. This was your idealistic nest.

Sumiyoshi was engaged in mining and selling coal, while your task was to get food, despite the fact that according to the rules You had to take care of getting money, and Sumiyoshi to get food. But You understood that this job was important to him, and you accepted (probably not even immediately) him, without resorting to your ability to convince him of the desire to take care of the home.

Sumiyoshi is actually good at housework, but prefers physical work in the fresh air.

He likes it when you untie his ponytail and gently massage the scalp, or touch the hair. This only happens late in the evening or at night, when the work for the day is over, and he can relax in Your arms.

Whenever Sumiyoshi returns after a long absence, he gives You a big hug. This has become a kind of ritual for the two of you.

When Sumiyoshi has to leave the house, he takes Your outer clothing (except when he is hunting, as Your smell is stronger than his, which will scare off the animals).

Sumiyoshi isn't too sure about his smell due to his betapodeness, so he actually likes it when You call him "your [cute] omega" or call his smell nice.

Sumiyoshi likes it when you hug him from the back, especially with your lips pressed to the marriage mark.

He likes to hold Your hand. Even when you were just beginning the process of courtship, he wanted to touch your palms or run his fingers over the code of your hands. He especially likes to kiss your wrists.

There are a lot of nests in your house, sometimes built in a single moment in the chaotic desire of Sumiyoshi to make as many shelters as possible for you and your (unborn) pups.

Sumiyoshi has a strong heat and a long enough heat. Despite the fact that it does not have a strong smell at normal times (moreover, some have taken it for an omega-like beta), it has a very strong nesting instinct, which is almost always associated with a strong desire to be a breed and carry puppies.

Therefore, whenever Sumiyoshi feels that heat is approaching, he becomes even more affectionate and needs your attention and company. He snuggles up to you more often to mark each other with odors, and becomes more sleepy and absent-minded.

On such days, work is especially difficult for him, so You prefer to drive him to the nest and rest. You don't live so poorly that a few days of working alone can cause serious damage, especially when you consider how hard-working Sumiyoshi is during the off-season.

He knows that You need to work or go out for food and water, but whenever You leave him, he feels broken and abandoned, and wraps himself in Your clothes.

(However, you soon began to store food and water nearby in advance, so you needed to leave it less often, which had a positive effect on your emotional state — you didn't need to break up again during this intimate event).

A few days before the start of estrus, Sumiyoshi purrs a lot and takes special care of You, unconsciously pushing you closer to the nest and constantly initiating physical contact (hugs, kisses, stroking). His instincts say that he should accompany You to his nest as soon as possible, so that at the moment of estrus You will breed him and give him Your pups, and he willingly follows these instincts.

Perhaps, estrus is that rare moment when Your delicate and quiet husband becomes so affectionate and persistent in his attachment. His hands must constantly touch You, and You should be condescending and delicate in such moments, otherwise You can injure such a sensitive omega during such periods. It is better to just mention that You still have things to do, but you will return soon (he will look at you with the eyes of a sad puppy, but obediently let go), than to sharply say that he should stop doing so.

During estrus, Sumiyoshi is very "sticky" and thirsty. He's just so hungry for You and your attention that he can't get enough of it.

During his heat, you should accept that You are not going anywhere — even those moments when his estrus briefly weakens, you spend together, because his instincts scream that he can not leave his partner, and should be close.

Out heat Sumiyoshi becomes more calm and obedient. A sweet young man who cares for You tenderly and tries to work hard enough to make you live happily ever after.

Although he still wants your puppies. Not too many — one or two. The risk of death during childbirth is common for omegas, but they are not too intimidated by the idea of dying during childbirth (unlike You, so You don't really seek to breed him). When you share your experiences, Sumiyoshi gently reassures you that all the omegas in his family were fertile and very rarely died during childbirth, so his body is adapted to carrying and giving birth to a large number of puppies. Your puppy.

He is so inspired to convince You that he can bear and give birth to your puppies that it is even touching in a way.

When your child is born, Sumiyoshi is so full of happiness that he will even cry a little. This is your child. He swears that as long as he breathes, his baby won't know any sorrows.

The child spends the first part of they life on his lap. His omega-instincts say that he should not allow the child to be without his attention for a long time to prevent his death from predators, but at the same time, Sumiyoshi feels that he should also keep You in sight to prevent the death of his mating partner.

This instinct was developed in him before, but after giving birth, it became much more Intrusive and strong. He has a very strong need for constant confirmation that his family does not need anything and is protected from predators and weather conditions.

And in a moment, the axe in his hands begins to look more threatening when he hears a suspicious noise in the bushes. As threatening as its smell, which has become more pronounced, but not like a "blooming young", but like a... dangerous predator.

Fortunately, your territorial instinct also became more pronounced after the birth of the child, so you both do not feel overwhelmed because of the constant need to be close. The child is also very happy with his situation, constantly shrouded in the smells of his parents and warmth.

So it's all about household chores while you spend time with the child (surprisingly calm and sleepy, by the way-apparently, "genes decide"?) not far from it. Since Sumiyoshi was essentially useless during his pregnancy (admittedly, he was telling the truth about the body, but it was his biological fitness that put him "out of action"), he now feels a strong thirst to do something and let You rest.

In short, he is your absolutely gentle partner, understanding friend, and devoted omega♡

[eloquentgifs]

DWJ Reading Project. Part II

As I said here, my 2021 resolution is gonna be READING EVERY DIANA WYNNE JONES BOOK I CAN FIND, and due to my love of making lists and taking notes, I’ve decided keeping track of this reading project here in this post, which I’ll keep updated as I make progress. It’s mostly for my own pleasure, but maybe it helps someone who wants to give it a try to this amazing writer and doesn’t know where to start.

Part I (1970 - 1976 & The Dalemark Quartet)

Part III (1984 - 1992 & Land of Ingary Series)

- The Chrestomanci Series (DWJ’s suggested reading order): · Charmed Life (1977): I couldn’t fully enjoy it because the main premise of the story is the codependency Cat has with his AWFUL sister, and how her abuse shapes everything on his life. He has such a low self esteem and needs so much a hug, it just breaks my heart every page. In any case, the worldbuilding, the magic system and the general vibe are just amazing. If it keeps like this, I totally understand why so many people love this series

· The Lives of Christopher Chant (1988): Ok, this is the good shit. I don’t even know how to describe it in few words. Let’s say that there’s also a kid being abused by his relatives, and there were parts where I wanted to throw the book against the wall, but Christopher is such a fascinating character to read about that you just can’t stop. And this universe, OMFG. Also, is the Asheth thing some kind of homage to The Tombs of Atuan?

· Conrad’s Fate (2005): I’ve binge-watched Downton Abbey a few months ago, so finding out this book is basically DA with magic was just a delight. Christopher and his new BFF Conrad arrive to this big ass manor to work as lackeys, while both having secret agendas of their own. There’s everything one would expect and more: Rich Family Drama, Upstairs/Downstaris antics, crime solving, forbidden loves, scifi-ish reality bugs, and of course abusive relatives (at this point, if I were DWJ’s uncle I'd think she was trying to tell me something). I read it in a day and a half. The only negative thing I can say is that I missed Christopher POV of things. 

· Witch Week (1982): This is about a bunch of pupils and teachers in a deppresing boarding school. Everyone is a little bit of an asshole at some point, but it's understandable because this world must be the worst in Series 12. Not only they keep burning witches in modern times, but witches aren’t even a minority, so you can imagine the amount of hypocrisy. It’s interesting how the witch thing can be considered a metaphor for lgtb kids: everyone is scared of being called a witch because they’ll get bullied (and maybe arrested and burnt), but every time a character find out they’re in fact a witch, they just feel confident and happy because they’ve found themselves, so they can’t even hide it. Also, there are more secret witches around than they would expect.

· The Magicians of Caprona (1980): Two families of famous spell-makers keep hating each other through generations, to the point they put Caprona, the city-state where they live, in danger. Sometimes the Italian stereotypes were too much and took me out of the story, but not gonna lie, I really loved the opera spells, the large families living all together in a big house and being loving and supportive with each other, and BENVENUTO.

· The Pinhoe Egg (2006): This one is also about confronted families of magic users, but this time they’re in the villages near to Chrestomanci Castle, and no one really knows there’s a feud because their spells are based on herbs and plants, not in singing opera on the streets. Cat comes back and shares the spotlight with Marianne Pinhoe, and as always I would love more Christopher Chant, but I can´t really complain.

·  Mixed Magics (2000): Four short stories settled in the Chrestomanci Universe, more or less linked to the main characters. My favourite is the third one, Carol Oneir’s Hundredth Dream, mostly because the idea of a kid selling her dreams as stories is brilliant, but also because I loved that little moment where Christopher reviews Carol’s dreams and everything he says is the kind of critique that Diana always received on her books.

- The Homeward Bounders (1981): There are some misterious powerful people who seem to be addicted to Age of Empires, but they play it using actual worlds and actual people. When someone from these worlds find this out, they got exiled and doomed to jump from world to world, only able to stop when they manage to get back to their original world.  The first act remind me a little of those stories from Arabian Nights where the main character keeps arriving to weird islands and getting into the most bizarre troubles but always manages to survive. Due to life circunstances I couldn't focus 100% on the reading, but I did enjoy the characters, mostly Helen, and Jamie eventually grew on me too. I must confess I got kinda lost with the final explanation about the game and the nature of this multiverse and what it's Real and how Hope acts literally as an anchor that keeps the system going (although I find the notion really interesting as an allegory, and once again a really cool message for kids: hope can be your prison)

- The Time of the Ghost (1981): Ok, this one was a dark trip. I can’t really say that much because everything is a spoiler. Let’s say it’s about an amnesic ghost who’s drawn to their family, and there’s a lot of sadness, pagan blood rituals (one chapter in particular has A LOT OF BLOOD for my taste), abusive relationships, and a little bit of the theme in the previous book: the negative side of hope that makes us cling to things in an unhealthy way. Also, I’ve read this book is kinda autobiographical, and it explains so much about the way DWJ used to depict families in her books, it’s heartbreaking. It has its moments of fun and sweet melancholy tho. It’s never 100% depressing with Diana. I think that’s what make it feel so realistic.

[doctorslippery]

1d50 Fantasy Rumors

In a bathhouse to the far south, there is a well that grants wishes to those who please the guardian Naiad.

The Lord of a nearby country has set an enormous bounty on the head of a wicked bandit chief. However the old folk whisper the bandit is actually the true King, having been spirited away in the night when he was but a small boy.

The dwarves of the Jarring Peaks only surface mine and refuse to go underground. Something terrible drove them from the deeper mines generations ago, and still rests there today.

A foreign dignitary repeatedly insulted the Governor, however this is because by custom speaking praise of someone invites upon them ill luck. An international incident is looming.

In the Hinterlands, defeating someone in a fair duel entitles you to their lands or their lives. The duels, however, have incredibly complex rules that are nearly impenetrable to outsiders.

In the eastern seaport, the bay is supposedly teaming with mermaids. Dangling your toes off the docks is a sure way to get their attention, for better or worse.

There exists a flower that blooms once a century in the depths of the Sparkleberry Swamp that can cure any illness, no matter how dreadful. A tribe of lizard folk have been protecting the site for countless generations.

The mausoleum in the center of the city’s graveyard refuses to remain sealed, the bricks always burst outward in the night. Nothing, however, has been seen going in or out of it.

The old hag who sells flowers in the market place is in fact a powerful witch, waiting for a prophecy to fulfill itself.

The old orphanage at the edge of town doesn’t house real children, but changelings who were discovered in the crib.

Gert the Butcher once got into regular rows with his brother Bert. Bert vanished a few weeks ago and Gert had a sale on delicious sausages.

During a New Moon, the tides dip low revealing an isthmus connecting to Finnegan’s Atoll. The very best pearls can be found in reefs, it is a race to find them first.

Hjalmar Bjornson defeated the evil conjuror Illhugi and took residence in his tower. Recently, however, dark things have been coming from the tower again.

Cattle has been disappearing recently from local fields, a crime that the thieves’ guild refuses to claim. The town fool claims they are being abducted by invisible creatures for their heinous rituals.

The baron’s daughter is set to marry the heir of a neighboring fiefdom. Her maidservant, however, claims she plans to elope with the captain of the Guard, Providence Blanchard.

The Gleaming Desert gets so hot during the summer months that whole areas melt into glass. A local alchemist thinks if conditions are right a huge and perfect lens could be created.

The White Forest is so called for the strange, color draining sickness that affects the animals within. Farmer Gregor claims, however, to have seen a giant black stag with glowing rainbow antlers.

A pair of river traders have brought a new, powerful and addictive medicine which they initially gave away for free. However prices have risen and addicts have taken to increasingly aggressive acts of robbery to fuel their addictions.

Gloria Haversham is a tinker who travels the countryside in her one donkey cart. People say she can fix absolutely anything, but her prices are never in mere coins.

Word on the street is that the fireworks prepared for the New Years celebration have been tampered with and their glowing bursts will in fact place a hex on the city.

A new tattoo artist from the far west has set up shop, creating beautiful works of art on their patron’s skin. They’re almost too lifelike.

Parents always told their children that the Weeping Man would take away naughty children on full moons, but recently children have actually started going missing and the bogeyman has turned into hysteria.

The Wizard-Archeologist Philipa Saint-John claims there is a lost ziggurat buried in the permafrost of the Karngorm Tundra, she just needs the funding and manpower to uncover it.

Jenny Greenteeth has haunted the swamp since time out of mind and the locals now live in a tenuous peace with her. However a rich merchant has brought in foreign workers to fill the swamp and build a road.

The Count’s fortune was read in tea leaves last month. He was so horrified by the prophecy that he banned all fortune tellers and all tea from the county.

A giant hand made of an unknown metal was uncovered by flash floods in the hills.

Migratory patterns have shifted, taking game away from the barony. Something is happening up north that is scaring all the animals away.

The cats hold a monthly sabbath where they make reports to their true master.

The border marauders have been getting more bold after their leader uncovered a trove of strange weapons that fire burning light.

Stay away from the harbor on misty nights, that’s when the ghost ship and her dread captain looks for new crew to take aboard.

13 O’Clock, the Witching Hour, only strikes for those who know to listen for it.

The King in Chains, an especially rowdy tavern, has a terrible rat problem, but for some reason the landlord refuses to do anything about it. He also despises cats.

The Patron Saint of Thieves famously stole themselves right out of the hangman’s noose as they dropped. It is said the holder of that noose cannot be barred by any locked door.

A truly massive thunderhead has been passing back and forth across the plains for weeks without a drop of rain. The locals have taken to calling it the Thunder Anvil.

The city on the other side of the mountain throws a truly spectacular street celebration each year. Its participants, despite the fireworks, feasts, and music are all masked and silent.

A powerful noble was cursed in her youth to never be able to eat the same meal twice. She is elderly now and is desperate for truly exotic ingredients for her increasingly bizarre diet.

The old barrows have always been a haunt of fairies and their mischief was mostly benign. A necromancer recently desecrated those ancient tombs and the fairies have gone berserk.

A travelling circus filled with exotic animals of all kinda passed through last year, however a fire at the big top consumed it. Strange trumpeting and growling are still heard from the village green.

Theodore Goldfinch, the secretary of the magistrate, ran screaming out of the courthouse last week claiming he uncovered a snakeman conspiracy.

“The Slithery-Dee came out the sea, he ate all the others but he didn’t eat me,” claimed the only survivor of a fishing village, found covered in blood and holding a notched whaling hook.

There is a deaf musician who wanders the south who knows a tune terribly sad that those that hear it die of a broken heart. They say the musician is in fact a master assassin.

Giant petroglyphs cut across the shrublands where the sheep graze. The wizards claim that the petroglyphs have actually been walking across the land at geologic speed.

Everyone ties a ribbon with wishes on it to the Angel Oak, hoping they’d come true. Sometimes, they actually do!

Keep a ring of iron in your left pocket when you travel the road at night, otherwise the Wyld Hunt will turn you to a beast and hunt you till morning.

Anyone who dies without fulfilling a contract is damned to rise against to complete it. It is important to burn or transfer contracts to avoid terrible revenants.

After a long bender that the PC barely remembers, their wanted poster has been pasted across the land for the kidnapping of a rich silk merchant’s son.

A bat covered in gold dust was found in the church’s belfry, setting off a rush searching all the local caves for a rich vein.

A strange light was seen pouring out of the canyon in the night and no one who has gone to investigate has returned.

Sir Zoray and his band of knights were tasked by the High Priestess to seek a holy artifact to cure a terrible wasting illness. They were last spotted spending their gold the the most expensive brothel in an eastern city.

A wingless wyrm was spotted swimming through the Frothy Run River and coins of foreign make were later found on the pebbly shore.

[did-i-do-this-write]

Hey -the self indulgent anon- there was a family emergency (but its all good now) (and I can't remember if I sent something like this already but oh well)

So about two years later aku and Liam find luca -and he is a wolf Demi-human- and basically the wolf tribe kicked him out for failing the coming of age ritual/challenge -which think like what they did in black panther but - as per tradition (cuz if you cant complete it your too weak or something)

and so aku and liam find him half dead and take him in and aku helps train him to be stronger. (And he Wields a sword because I said so)

and then we have prince kuro who is the heir to the cloud kindom and basically the angels and demons had made a truce and were going to be equals but some angels didnt like that and killed the king and queen and took over (and the bad angels broke kuros wings and chucked him over the side of the cloud kindom figuring it would kill him)

but aku stole like a bunch of books and kept stealing them over the years -mostly maps and history, gardening and like -those plant identity books so he doesn't eat something poisonous - and some docter type books from his 'parents' second library that they never use (because rich ppl lol) so he Was able to patch Him up.

and then aku got his story and promises to help him get his kindom back. -if he would stop trying to escape and go back , you 're already almost half dead damn it!-

so then Aku decided to head to this town That sells and trades goods to maybe sell his own stuff that he grew

And everything looks fine -lots of people coming to see what this town has ya know?- But the town ppl are like hella poor and most homeless because the person who owns the town -who also work under aku's 'parents'- are underpaying and overpricing everything. -Cuz like you need a permit to sell things And setup a stall and its expensive and then the person also takes a large cut if the sales that was made-

And aku is like....why is everything so corrupt? The wolf tribe? The cloud kingdom! Here?

-and this is before he finds out about what the noble are doing to the spell books and such-

So then he decides to do something about it and goes to a different town -or maybe a nobles house and sells an invention for a lot of money plus a royalty- And uses the money to buy the town from the current owner -but since he doesn't want His noble parents to know he's there he has Luca Do it under his name instead of aku-

So i haven't figured everything out about the restaurant.

But I'm thinking Aku kinda just makes normal recipes but better because they've been improved in his time -and also things from other countrys-

So like maybe pizza pasta sushi? And like condiments -like ketchup mayonnaise and things like that-

(which (free history lesson) ketchup Used to be a fish sauce and wasn't actually Made from tomatoes until the 1700s!)

And the recipes get really popular with the people who come to buy stuff so then the word gets out and more and more people come and like the town is becoming more popular then before!

And then he Makes a Better orphanage and ends up taking in a few Of the homeless kids: owen and voilet which are panda twins and maple who is a racoon) and gives them jobs.

-like maybe gathering the firewood Needed (I mean he doesn't exactly force them too but they wanted to help) And Helping with the cooking and he pays them for it-

Which is basically the start of aku slowly taking down all the corrupt systems

And then a little bit later aku meets an aracnia In the woods named Adrian who is fixing up a birds wing right?

And so they talk and Adrian wants to be a doctor but racism says no (and I haven't decided if I want arachnids to have like 6 spider like legs or 6 human arms but I'm leaning towards the latter) so aku -who now is the mayor of a town that doesn't really have a docter But has a bunch of medical books- is like "I have the perfect place for you"

Oh and I forgot so Adrian and kuro are oldests at around 17ish I think

And then aku is also 17 but the youngest off the three of them

And then Luca is about 15-16 ish

And liam is 15

And then the panda twins and maple are about 8-10 I'd say

(no worries! And you did already send this but this one has more detail so it's the one I'll respond to 😅 I just got caught up today and couldn't answer, sorry!)

First of all, loving the concept of the first step to ending corruption being opening a restaurant. That's just a god tier concept, well done 👌🏻

All of the rest sounds really good, too! A very captivating fantasy world you seem to have created! It sounds like you have a lot to work with! Even tho you mentioned it being more self indulgent, I would love to read something like this (and I have a feeling I'm not the only one)

If you have more to share, I will offer you the same thing I offered the other anon which is you can always DM me about your WIP if you'd like to talk about it more! These long asks can sometimes clog people's dashboards and it can be a little much sometimes 😅

[rosepetals-flyingbirds]

These Monsters.

With: Geralt x Reader.

Word Count: 2,436

Another town, another search for a monster so Geralt could gain some coin.

Roach walked slowly and Geralt gazed at the new town, it was dirty and smelled weird. Common.

Sometimes he wonders about Jaskier's questioning of retirement. Geralt chuckled at the thought, where could he possibly live after retirement?

"Oh shit! You bloody bitch!" A man yelled and Geralt searched for the disturbance. "Stop meddling."

"I ain't! I'm asking politely and with coin for the dog!"

"Stop caring so much. You and your damn dogs!"

Geralt got off Roach and walked close to the scene. "Don't curse them! Their lives matter more than yours." You yelled.

The man held your forearm. "Oh you-"

Geralt approached and the man looked up at him, he wasn't short, but Geralt was gigantic. "Do we have a problem?"

The man looked at him up and down. "Don't meddle, Witcher." He spat on the floor and Geralt looked at you.

You knew he wanted an answer so you chuckled. "This man refuges to sell me his dog, even though he is a monster that is selling him for terrible people who will kill him for rituals."

"Rituals my ass. There are using them for magic."

Geralt glanced at the man and then noticed the dog that was being held by a firm rope. "Selling?"

You nodded. "Yes."

"Why won't you sell for her then. Its the same price?"

The man rolled his eyes, not believing the annoying you and a Witcher was bothering him. "Its! But this is about my pride."

You laughed in mockery making the man angrier. "What pride? Your assassin!"

Geralt looked at you with gleam with his eyes, you were short, probably couldn't handle a sword for your life if needed, but there you stood causing chaos to save an animal. Then he looked at the man again and extended his hand to grab the dog's rope. "Give her the dog, it'll be for the best."

The man looked at the Witcher's hand and looked offended. "Don't touch my dog!"

You intertwined quickly making Geralt smirk at your ferocity. "Is not yours! You're selling him to slaughter!"

Geralt looked at the man again and gave him a look of knowing. "Give it to the girl, now."

He looked at you, the scared dog, the Witcher and rolled his eyes he took the coins from your hand and marched to the opposite way mumbling some curses.  

You kneeled on the floor and caressed the baby's head. "Hello girl, we will go home okay?! You will be treated with respect."

Geralt could walk away, he should have, but his feet were glued to the spot. Why did you care for such a small creature? 

Fighting with dumb people to save them.

Realizing the broadening figure that still stood near you, you stood up and held the damned rope. "Thank you, for helping me. Honestly, that asshole wouldn't give in and I was desperate."

He hummed and a small smile broke his lips. "You? Desperate?"

"Yeah, because if I stole him then they would kill me, probably anyway. I have stolen others before and... if I die all of this will be hopeless."

"Why do you care so much?"

"They are alive beings, man's best friend! And they betray them and its disgusting!" You saw the pretty horse in a few steps away and by the black bag that was propped by the horse's side, you connected it to the man with white hair and striking eyes. "Is she yours?"

Looking at Roach he nodded. "How did you know?"

"Well, for one she is well treated, that gives away a lot, and I've never seen you before."

"I'm a Witcher, I'm searching for a job."

"You kill monsters." You thought out loud. He nodded and you looked at the curious people that were going outside their houses just to look at him. "If I had enough coin I would give you to kill these monsters." Geralt knew you meant the people and he found that amusing. "Well, I will go now. Thank you for helping me and if you ever need help or a cup of tea, or ale," You chuckled. "I live deep in the woods, you'll probably hear the dogs if you approach."

Smirking at you, Geralt saw you walking away.

                           …

Nearing your house you held the baby in your arms and opened the door carefully, you allowed your other dogs, or as you call them, children, to smell the new baby and you went to cook something for them.

As you prepared the food your attention went to the Witcher you met in town, how he helped you made you smile. 

Yes, he was very very, painfully so, handsome; But the fact that he helped you when everyone else called you crazy was amazing to you. And how his horse was so well treated made you smile believing he cares for the animals too.

You placed the dogs' food in the table waiting for it to cool off and took the new baby to wash her. "Hello you, you have been through some rough time uh?!" She shaked with the water and you tried to go as quickly as you could so you could dry her up.

In the end, you rubbed a towel in her fur and went back to the kitchen placing the food on the floor and watched the nine rescued dogs eating.

                           …

Geralt found a job, a ghoul. It was stealing dead bodies at the local cemetery, and of course everyone was afraid of the 'demon that is destroying our ancestors' as the blacksmith said.

It wasn't easy, and at the end of the fight, he was embraced in ghoul's gut and a wound in his thigh.

"Fuck." He grunted and threw the body in the floor, he watched the almost opened graves but avoided it, he was paid to kill the monster, not to clean it's mess.

He walked back to town limping a bit, the beast's nail perforated his thigh and he needed to find Roach and take one of the potion elixir that helped his witcher magic heal him faster, the one made with veratrum, stramonium, hawthorn, and spurge.

On the way back to town, where he would rent a room he heard a bark, well, a bunch of. He thought of you along the day, the people he met in town where rough, most of them didn't have their teeth, nor education for the matter.

Yet you shone upon them, not only because of the gentleness with smaller creatures, but also how good you looked. 

As if you ran off a castle. 

You did invite him earlier did you not?

Letting a grunt he tried to decide if he should or shouldn't go visit you.

Following the barks he reached a small house, no dogs outside being locked in chains, he peeked inside and saw by the window a dog with white neat fur. So you let them inside too?

A lot of barks erupted as if the dog in the window told the others that a visitor was approaching their home and they didn't know if Geralt would hurt their human or not.

You approached by the window to call the dogs but realize he was outside.

Quickly you opened the door and looked at him up and down, the smell of guts was strong but the injury in his thigh was prominent by your eyes. Even with the dark cloth of his trousers covering it you could see his blood, then it might be disastrous.

"What happened?"

"I found a case."

"I can see that." You smiled but he could see the fear in your eyes, not because of him, which made him feel comfort. "I, uh, can I help you? Do you wanna bath I think I have some herbs ointment here." Geralt looked at dogs howling at him and you shushed them making them stop. "Come in."

"I, I don't want to get your house dirty with ghoul's guts."

You smiled and shrugged. "I don't know what that is but I don't mind."

As Geralt walked in you spoke with the dogs. "Luna, Ásia let him in, he is a friend."

Geralt looked at them and followed you to what looked like a bathroom. "I don't know your name." He spoke with a grunt and you smiled. 

"I don't know yours either." He hummed and you grabbed a towel for him, and searched for a tunic and trousers big enough to fit him. 

Geralt looked at the water buckets and you told him he could use them. Getting back at the bathroom you placed the clothes in a chair. "I don't know if they will fit but I believe it's better than these ones." You pointed to his clothes. 

"My name is Geralt. Geralt of Rivia."

"Nice to meet you, I'm Y/N, Y/N of... here? I guess." Seeing he used the buckets of water you would use before his arrival you pointed to the sponge and allowed him space to clean up. "I will be outside."

Geralt appreciated the gesture and got out of his clothes slowly to not hurt his thigh further, gladly his healing process was way faster and efficient than humans.

You went to your kitchen to fetch something for him to eat, Geralt was a Witcher, he hunted monsters, killed them and with that he automatically helped people too. Why people hated them? 

You knew the dumb tales, and the stares everyone threw at him earlier on made you upset.

He wouldn't hurt you... would he?

Ruby, the most caring dog you had, patted you in the thigh as if asking what was wrong. "Its okay boy."

                       …

Sometime later Geralt opened the wooden door and you looked at him wearing the loosest clothes you had, but even then they were a bit firm in his body.

"How is your thigh?"

Geralt sat in the chair near the table and you placed a wooden cup with ale for him, and as you have placed the bread, fruits in the table ere you sat to make him company. "Better, it will heal overnight." He drank the whole cup and started to eat the bread.

"How?"

"Magic." He answered simply, not revealing how the magic could help him much less where his magic came from.

"You don't talk much do you?" He smiled and looked at the almost destroyed bread he was eating.

"I'm sorry."

"No it's okay, I'm just curious about you. Magic you say uh?!"

"Yeah."

You saw him looking at the fruits as if something was missing. "I'm sorry but I don't have any type of meat here, I don't hunt nor buy it."

"It is okay, you're very generous."

Geralt felt something touching his feet and looked at the dogs surrounding him.

"They like you."

"How?"

"Well, they are not barking and are asking for bread." You smiled.

"Should I give them?" For a moment you swore you saw a glimpse of worry in his eyes.

"No no, they already ate and bread isn't good for them." He nodded and you served him more ale. "So, where you'll sleep tonight?"

"I will find a room in town."

"You'll leave tomorrow?"

He got silent for a while, deep in thought. "Yes."

In that would be the last time you saw him, or any Witcher to be straightforward. "You'll go home?"

"I don't have one."

"Not even in Rivia?"

"Definitely not in there."

"So you go from town to town? All over the state?" He nodded. "I don't know if I would be able to do that." Geralt smiled at your sincerity, almost everyone he met annoyed him about their lives and how lucky he is for traveling, when it isn't luck, its a curse. He was transformed into a Witcher and didn't have the luck of having a home or a family. "Well, I will wash your clothes. Or you want to take them dirty and all?"

You awaited for the answer and Geralt opened his mouth, but shut it quickly reconsidering his words. "If it won't be an inconvenience I would appreciate it."

"Sure thing." Leaving the kitchen you grabbed the stained clothes in the bathroom and went outside to wash them.

Geralt stood up from the chair and moved at the place, the dogs were looking at him contemplating the weird man in their home, he sat in the couch and propped his back, letting a sigh of relief. He was exhausted, days sleeping in the woods because of the search for a job. So finally feeling a warm house with a comfortable sofa was amazing to him.

Half of an hour later you entered your home again and placed the clothes in a made-up line near the fireplace, it was cold outside so it wouldn't dry them with the same efficiency.

You saw three of the dogs sleeping near the fire, two under the table and then the one you rescued earlier in the sofa, near a very tall Witcher. Geralt was passed out, you studied at him and then at the door, he said he would rent a room in town earlier on, but you wouldn't wake him up when he was so obviously relaxed.

Going to your room and finding the other three dogs near your bed, you petted one of them and grabbed a blanket you had made recently, you placed it in Geralt's body and gazed at him seeking for any sign of discomfort.

Finding none you walked back to your room and closed the door. Putting a small dagger you had under your pillow, you sat in bed and caressed your dog, Ubbe. Geralt wouldn't try something bad, you were sure of it, but to be sure you had to at least be prepared.

And as for Geralt, he slept better than he had in days.

                          …

The night passed and he woke up with a lick on his face. Grunting he opened his eyes and saw the dog he helped you buy the day prior, he smiled at the small creature and sat in the sofa stretching his sore muscles, touching his leg he realized the injury was apparently gone. And looking at his surrounds he smiled at how the sun rays swept in the atmosphere making everything look warmer, brighter, and better. 

And adding the place to the way you treated him with nothing but gentleness he smiled. Yeah, people were shitty but sometimes he was blessed by meeting good souls.

And he will try his best to treat you with nothing but.

                      …

[watching-pictures-move]

Put On Your Raincoats #15 | Rainbows in the Dark

To the extent that a porn director crossed over to the mainstream, Gregory Dark would be it. Certainly, there have been directors who did one or two porn features early in their careers, like Abel Ferrara, William Lustig and Wes Craven, but they're known almost entirely for their mainstream work. There are also porn directors who did maybe one mainstream movie, like Gerard Damiano, but their careers were relegated to porn for the most part. Dark is the rare director who was prolific on both sides, so to speak, starting with massive hardcore hits like New Wave Hookers, moving on to directing softcore, thrillers and softcore thrillers with some regularity and eventually becoming a popular music video director. My initial plan was to explore the full gamut of Dark's career. I wanted to get a sense of each phase of his work and to see what elements of his style translated across them. Essentially I wanted to understand Dark as an auteur. But then something miraculous happened. I got lazy. (Also I had a muted reaction to some of his movies and became more interested in another director in the meantime.) So I decided to limit my exploration to a few of his early movies and call it a day.

The first one I watched was New Wave Hookers, his best known hardcore title and considered a classic in the genre. What I expected going in and what worked for me can be deduced from the title. Dark's visual style very much brings to mind the "new wave" in the title: big hair, fog machines and neon lighting, all of which are first seen in the opening credits, in which the female talent almost ritualistically present themselves to the camera. There's some stylistic precedent in the work of Rinse Dream AKA Stephen Sayadian (the artist I got more interested in as I delved into Dark's work), but Sayadian's aesthetic feels culled from the art underground. (Dark reuses a few of Sayadian's actors in some of his films.) Dark's style feels more commercial, almost packaged for MTV. (Dark intended his film as a reaction to hardcore porn features of his era, although I'd argue that his choice of camera angles still feels in line with other films of the era.) This is a movie that looks good and, thanks to some choice music courtesy of the Plugz (whose song "Electrify Me" accompanies the opening credits) and the Sockets (who provide the theme song), sounds good too.

What I gelled to much less was the sense of humour. The movie opens with two buddies played by Jamie Gillis (wearing a tie over a t-shirt) and Dark regular Jack Baker shooting the shit and watching another Dark production. ("That fuckin' guy looks exactly like you. Is that you?") Baker starts expounding on his thoughts about pimping and "programming" women to fuck with music. Baker also notes, "a pimp calls a chick a bitch". They doze off, and when they wake up they find themselves inexplicably in an office. Baker is wearing a yellow tracksuit, Gillis is sporting an East Asian accent, and there's a guy on the floor substituting for their phone. (Gillis asks: "Why do we not have a regular telephone?" Baker explains: "He got the power, the second sight.") As the movie proceeds to make good on its premise, wherein women have sex after listening to new wave music, we're treated to a steady stream of racial taunting. Baker grouses about black music being ineffective for their purposes, dropping the N-bomb. Gillis continues with his accent. The two get into racially charged arguments. A middle eastern client is served in a tent and barks like a dog after he's finished. At one point, Gillis wants sushi and is served by Kristara Barrington while East Asian style music plays on the soundtrack. I recognize that a lot of humour from the era is extremely politically incorrect and has aged poorly, but there's something about Dark's use of racist and misogynist humour that feels especially confrontational. I admit I was a bit bothered by all of this.

Still, there are moments of humour that did work for me. One of the headsets that the characters use has dildos protruding from both earpieces (pointing outwards, of course), and the production design, while not always stylish, is at least endearing in its blatant cheapness. To their credit, Baker and Gillis have undeniable chemistry and do sell the material as well as they can. (I laughed when Gillis, when confronted by the vice squad, drops his accent and exclaims "I used to work in your fuckin' office, and now I'm rich, I'm satisfied, and I'm Chinese, you assholes." Am I a bad person? Probably.) And in terms of how it meets genre expectations, I do think Ginger Lynn and Kristara Barrington have a real magnetism in their scenes.

Given the racial content in New Wave Hookers, it probably won't surprise anybody that Dark was a pioneer in interracial pornography. I am not a sensitive enough writer to begin unpacking all the implications of the concept, but I did watch one of his movies in the subgenre, Black Throat. This was a shot-on-video effort and looks considerably cheaper and uglier than New Wave Hookers, but shares some other qualities. It opens and closes with a punk song that references that film as well as Let Me Tell Ya Bout White Chicks, Dark's first interracial feature, and to be honest, the song is pretty fucking catchy. The movie follows Roscoe, a man who wears yellow sunglasses and both a polo and a Hawaiian shirt and his friend Mr. Bob, a talking rubber rat. He's searching through the garbage while arguring with Mr. Bob over what to eat when he finds a business card. "Madame Mambo's House of Divine Inspiration Thru Fellatio!" (All of the characters pronounce fellatio differently. Mr. Bob says "fell-uh-tee-oh" and calls Roscoe a "fuckin' honky", to which he responds "Fuck you, Mr. Bob!")

Roscoe insists he has to find her. "If I don't find her, I'm gonna die!" (When asked why, he responds, "I dunno, it sounded kinda dramatic, I guess.") Mr. Bob enlists the help of a "young urban professional pimp" named Jamal, played by Jack Baker. (He prefers the term "flesh broker" and describes upgrading his diet, clothes and investments.) Roscoe, Mr. Bob and Jamal go from scene to scene, watching other characters having sex in different racial combinations, asking them where they can find Madame Mambo. (Sometimes they ask the characters directly, other times they talk to their private parts.) The best of these scenes, in my humble opinion, is a light domination flavoured sex scene featuring Christy Canyon. Perhaps because of the dynamic, there's an element of actual acting involved here, and because Canyon is, uh, pleasingly proportioned and has a certain magnetism, I found this scene more engaging than the others, at least until it turns into a regular sex scene.

Eventually they go back to Roscoe's place and find a voodoo ritual taking place where a black woman with multicoloured hair (think the George H.W. Bush rainbow wig from the Simpsons, but straight, not curly) is jumping on their bed while a bunch of white dudes in hats, capes and sunglasses jack off around her. This of course is Madame Mambo and at this point the movie makes good on the title while drumbeats and funk play on the soundtrack. Given the premise, this movie proved (thankfully) lighter on racial humour than I expected going in. There is an element of racial critique in Baker's character, and Madame Mambo is certainly exoticized, but the racial content otherwise is limited to the interracial couplings and doesn't overload the dialogue. However, this is a fairly ugly looking movie, shot on video, featuring unimpressive camerawork and lighting as well as extremely cheap looking production design (although the movie does mine this for laughs). I also found the sex scenes overlong and the music a bit repetitive. I imagine if you were jerking off to this back in the '80s it was easier to get through, but trying to watch it now as an actual movie, despite some decent humour throughout, proved a bit of a challenge.

The next one I watched was White Bunbusters, which despite the first half of the title is not particularly racially charged. The theme song here, crooned in the style of early '60s rock'n'roll, explains that the movie is about anal sex, as the second half of the title suggests. We begin with Tom Byron thrusting into his wife Shanna McCullough (while wearing his glasses) only to be disappointed by her refusal to take it in the butt. The next day at the office (decorated by construction paper all over the walls, drawers sketched in magic marker and a crude sign with their business' name "Acme Proctology"), he hears an ad for the "A-Busters", an enterprising duo who will convince your wife or partner to let you put it in their butt. We cut to the A-Busters office and see them in yellow shorts, lime green suspenders and orange baseball caps, fiddling with their hi-tech instruments (which include an "anal listening device"). Soon we see them go to work on Jack Baker's girlfriend, taking a cash payment after the fact.

Meanwhile, Byron's friend Greg Rome hears about his woes and offers to let him fuck his wife Keli Richards (Rome is named Bob and Richards is named Bobette). Of course Byron takes advantage of Rome's generous offer, but later gets annoyed when Rome insists it was a "one time deal". They're interrupted by Jennifer Noxt, who asks about a secretarial position for the law office next door. Rather than correcting her, which would be the right thing to do, they have sex with her, which is absolutely not the right thing to do. ("So do I get the job?" "We'll call you later, baby.") We go back to the A-Busters, who go to work on a pornstar warming up for her first anal scene (the movie is called Hershey Highway to Hell). Eventually, Byron decides to make use of their services, and in the climax, when he's having a nice dinner with his wife (complete with plastic cups and paper plates), they crash the party and get to work. After it's all over, Byron thanks the A-Busters and shakes one of their hands, only to promptly wipe it off on his suit.

This is as lo-fi as Black Throat, and features a lot of raunchy humour, but thankfully no real racial content outside of the title. Perhaps because the focus is on a specific set of acts (threesomes, anal sex, double penetration), the execution seems more consistently energetic. The ratio of the threesomes is a little off from what I prefer, but I was not unmoved by the scenes involving Keli Richards, Jennifer Noxt and Shanna McCullough. I realize there are more dignified ways to spend one's time than watching in its entirety and singing the praises of a movie called White Bunbusters, but sometimes the lizard brain takes over. I feel compelled to report the facts, and the facts are that this is good at what it does. As an actual movie, there isn't a whole lot to this, but were I to rate this on the Peter-Meter as the filmmakers intended, it would fare respectably.

Where Gregory Dark's style and the sum of his provocations really worked for me was in The Devil in Miss Jones 3: A New Beginning and The Devil in Miss Jones 4: The Final Outrage, a two-part odyssey through hell. (Attentive viewers may note that the original Devil in Miss Jones takes place before the heroine is sentenced to hell, but this is not a direct sequel. There is also a second part by Henri Pachard and later sequels directed by Dark that I did not see. The narrative in the third and fourth entries feels pretty self contained.) The movie begins with close-ups of our heroine, played by Lois Ayres, taking a shower while "A Christian Girl's Problems" by the Gleaming Spires plays over the soundtrack, her interiority hinted at with an astute song choice. (It's worth noting that this was not an original song made for the movie.) The structure intersperses her story with a series of interviews with those who knew her: an ex-boyfriend who "had a disagreement about the relationship" (he slept around); a woman speculates that Ayres was "a closet lesbian" and that "she probably went to live in one of those lesbian islands in the Caribbean"; a girl who knew her as a prude back in high school, a priest with a thick accent who offers a eulogy; her brother, who speaks in new age euphemisms and resents that she was the favourite growing up; and a blind ex-boyfriend who claims she was the loveliest person he knew "after Helen Keller". (This last character describes his sex life as very "normal": no peeing or dogs, wouldn't fuck pizzas, etc.) All these people knew her, but they didn't really know her.

The actual story follows her after she breaks up with her boyfriend (over the phone, as he shaves another woman's pubic hair while feigning innocence). She heads for a bar, brushing off a stereotypical black pimp played by Jack Baker who mistakes her for a prostitute, and promptly orders a "taco" (a draught beer, a Bloody Mary, and a draught beer in three separate glasses). Beside her is a man asleep on bar in tuxedo, who turns out to have been stood up at his own wedding. They hook up, leading to a sex scene scored by a blaring saxophone that I assume was practice for Dark's softcore work. The scene ends when the heroine knocks her head against the headboard and wakes up in a pitch black space near a grave. In comes Jack Baker, riding atop a woman, to tell her what the situation is. "You are dead, you got no clothes, and this is hell!"

The rest of the movie follows them going through different rooms, the heroine being unable to comprehend her fate, as they watch the different punishments endured by the denizens of hell. There's the room full of "peepers", virgins doomed to only watch sex for all eternity. (One of them explains: "I showed my tits to a guy to get a Gucci purse. He went off an overpass.") There are characters doomed to fuck until their genitals wear out or are ravaged by venereal disease. Baker gives Ayres a raincoat "to keep the come off", but the moment she forgets about it she finds herself getting gangbanged and promptly has to be rescued by Baker (okay, not that promptly, we get to enjoy this for a few minutes). Along the way we're led to believe from the interviews that the heroine might have a fetish for black men, and the conversation between Ayres and Baker grows increasingly heated and racially charged. This idea culminates in a trip to the "racist room", where a white man with a swastika armband is having a threesome with two women of colour while a white woman is sucking off two black men in tribal makeup. Ayres and Baker have a final confrontation on the subject.

"What about all the black racists?"

"Look bitch, when a black man hits a white man, we don't call it racist!"

"What do you call it then?"

"Smart!"

"That's ridiculous, there are plenty of black racists!"

"No dig, you stupid ass white bitch!"

"Look, you're even one of them, calling me a stupid bitch and a white bitch!"

"We'll you're stupid, you're white and a bitch, so what is your motherfucking problem?"

"You're crazy, negro, and you're one of the sickest people in here!"

"That's right, I'm a crazy negro! I'm so crazy I'll eat my own arm!"

This is a deeply uncomfortable scene, and what follows is even more disturbing, as we learn the true nature of the heroine's relationship with her father, a reveal that Dark plays for maximum shock value in depicting "The Ordeal of the Taboo Breakers".

In some ways this isn't all that different from New Wave Hookers, but Dark's direction seems more purposeful here. The stylized depiction of hell, with its black backgrounds and harsh neon lighting, imbue a real sense of menace into the proceedings. With the exception of two scenes, the sex isn't all that outrageous, but Dark's mise-en-scene has a way of rendering it almost as horror. It's not exactly scary and probably still "does the trick" if you're watching this for those reasons, but there's an undeniable charge here. Likewise, the dark humour and the racial content seem to work in tandem here, and Ayres and Baker really sell their adversarial chemistry. (It's worth noting that even by the standards of the video vixens that appear in Dark's movies, Ayres has an amazing hairdo.) Dark may not have entirely thought out his thesis along these lines, but the movie is provocative in its handling of this content, and unlike New Wave Hookers, not in a way that hurts it. At a combined 2+ hours, this probably runs a bit too long, but it does shape the usual procession of sex scenes into a structure that carries an uneasy momentum that matches the heroine's trepidation. We might not like what we're seeing, but we also can't help but keep looking.

[bytheangell]

If Yesterday’s Too Heavy, Put It Down (1/5)

(Read on AO3)  ------------- It isn’t strange for Alec to call Andrew up to his office to go over some of his security reports, but it is strange for Alec to be pacing by the window when he shows up, and it’s definitely strange for Alec to immediately tell him to come in and close the door behind him.

“Is everything alright, Sir?”

“Yes,” Alec says, though there’s an edge to his voice that implies otherwise. “I just have a request that’s… not strictly off the books, per se, but-”

“Understood,” Andrew says, not needing Alec to explain himself. This isn’t the first time Alec did something that wasn’t sanctioned, and Andrew doubted it’d be the last. Andrew trusts his judgment, however, and is willing to give him the benefit of the doubt that whatever it is will be worth the risk.

“I’m not sure you do,” Alec says. “There’s a group of young warlocks causing trouble, selling services to mundanes who don’t know what they’re asking for. They’re summoning some rather powerful demons that need to be caught and returned, but… the High Warlock doesn’t want this on the books, because he doesn’t trust the Clave to be fair in their punishment of the children.”

Sometimes Andrew wonders if Alec knows how good he’s getting at wording what he says to hit all the right points to convince people to agree with him - it’s rather politician of him, and if the rumors of his bid for Inquisitor are true Andrew doesn’t doubt he’s going to do well there. Using the fact that they’re children as a reason for leniency, rather than the sympathies of the warlock who made the request, is clever.

But the mention of the High Warlock doesn’t escape Andrew, either. “Lorenzo requested this?”

Lorenzo hadn’t said anything to him about it. Andrew wondered how long this was going on, how long he’s kept it from him during their dates the past week or two. At least this answers why his boyfriend seemed more than a little distracted lately.

“He did,” Alec confirms. “In fact, the current plan is to keep this to himself and Magnus, and they believe that with a Shadowhunter to use the Alliance rune with, the combined strength of the four of us will be enough to carry this out without drawing unnecessary attention. That is, if you’re agreeable.”

So there it is. Alec isn’t looking for someone to cover for him, he wants Andrew to be the fourth person on this secret mission.

“I thought with your relationship with Lorenzo it might be easier with you than someone he doesn’t know as well, or trust as much. Don’t feel like you have to. I can always ask Jace or Izzy or someone else if you say no,” Alec adds quickly.

Andrew considers the offer. The idea of sharing powers with Lorenzo… his first reaction is to be excited by the idea of having magic at his fingertips, and then eagerness to be useful to Lorenzo in something he obviously feels strongly about. On the other hand, it sounds intimate, at a level that they might not be at quite yet. And what if he isn’t strong enough, or he messes it up? Andrew’s been on countless routine missions before but this one carries more weight than all of them combined no matter how ‘casual’ Alec tries to make it sound.

All it takes is one thought of how Lorenzo would react to having to work with Jace instead of himself for Andrew to decide he should at least try - if not to prove to himself that he can, then for Lorenzo’s sake. If it’s that important to Lorenzo, then it was important to Andrew.

“I’m in. What’s the plan?”

---

That’s how Andrew ends up in the middle of a ritual he would otherwise have no business being in. He can tell that up until now Magnus and Lorenzo were both doing their best to cover their increasing concern the longer the demon in front of them remains bound, but not sent back to the realm it came from. He knows Alec can feel it too - they aren’t strong enough and there’s no telling how much longer they can hold this before they’re properly overpowered.

“Bane…” Lorenzo grunts out, his tone cautious.

“We’re fine,” Magnus snaps before the question can even be raised.

“Magnus,” Alec tries. “We can all feel it.”

“I’m almost there,” Magnus insists, the words strained.

Andrew exchanges a concerned look with the others, one that Magnus doesn’t see with his eyes closed to better concentrate his energy, and reminds himself that Magnus would never put Alec in unnecessary danger. Either this is worth the risk, or he really does have it under control - either way it’s all Andrew can do to offer what little energy he has left to make that a reality.

The demon in the middle of their circle snarls.

“Perhaps if you hadn’t cut yourself off from your father and your birthright you’d be strong enough on your own,” the demon hisses directly at Magnus, trying to get under his skin. It doesn’t appear to work as Magnus remains focused, so the demon turns with a devious glint in its eyes to look between Alec and Andrew. “And you bring Nephilim, allowing them access to our powers? It’s unnatural. Abhorrent,” the demon spits out the last word before a slow smirk spreads across its mouth. “Perhaps if your Nephilim toys want to play Warlock so badly they should get the full experience...”

The demon lashes out at Andrew and Alec simultaneously with something that feels like a burst of energy. It breaks their grips on Magnus and Lorenzo’s hands and throws them back against the wall on either side of the room. Andrew hits the stone with a thud, his entire body tingling, before slumping down against the ground without the energy it’d take to even try and stand back up to rejoin Lorenzo and Magnus. He glances across the room to see Alec equally motionless.

Magnus instinctively takes the power they’d been using to keep the barrier going and channels it into an immediate shot of deep crimson magic that’s finally enough to banish the demon, and not a second too soon. The demon’s cry fades to silence as Magnus drops to his knees in exhaustion.

“Andrew-” Lorenzo starts, the single word strained and weak. Lorenzo manages to remain upright just long enough to make it over to him. “Are you hurt?”

Andrew isn’t sure how to answer that. His shoulder is bruising from where he hit the wall, he can feel that forming already, and he doesn’t remember being this exhausted in his entire life, but more than that something feels wrong. He isn’t in pain, but something he can’t place is just… off.

“I don’t… think so?” Andrew manages.

“What was that?” Alec asks, propping himself up into a sitting position across the room.

Neither Lorenzo nor Magnus have the magic left for a proper examination but satisfied that everyone is physically okay enough to travel each open a portal home, Magnus and Alec going back to the loft to recover and Lorenzo taking Andrew back to his house to rest.

---

It takes two full days of sleeping and eating and sleeping some more before Andrew feels well enough to return to the Institute. Okay, maybe there are a few extra activities in there that he and Lorenzo could’ve forgone to recover faster, but he’s certainly not complaining.

Something still feels off but he doesn’t mention it. With the warlocks who summoned the demon to deal with and backed up work at the Institute when he and Alec return, the last thing they need is a vague, probably just in his head worry to add to their list of problems to deal with. For the most part, Andrew manages to ignore it.

That is, until a few weeks later when Alec comes to him in the surveillance room, checking to make sure they were alone before speaking.

“Hey,” Alec starts slowly, in that way which implies he has something he’s still not sure how to say on his mind. “How have you felt since we banished that demon?”

“You mean since that demon hit us with whatever that magic was?” Andrew questions.

Alec nods. “So you definitely feel it, too?”

“It felt like my blood was tingling for days,” Andrew admits. “And something still feels off, but I can’t pinpoint what, so I haven’t brought it up.”

Alec is still nodding. “Same,” he agrees. “Magnus took longer than normal to recover, but when he did he gave me a quick once-over and didn’t find anything wrong.”

Still, if they both still felt the same strangeness this long after it was over, it had to be more than nothing didn’t it?

“Maybe Isabelle could run some tests, just to cover all our bases?” Andrew suggests.

“Sure,” Alec agrees easily. “I’ll have her set one up.”

---

It’s only a day after Isabelle took samples from each of them and said she’d let them know what she turned up before she’s already calling them back to her lab.

“I’m going to need a longer range of samples. You’ll both have to come back once a week for the next… let’s say three weeks, just to be sure,” she says as casually as possible.

“Sure of what?” Andrew asks immediately.

“I don’t know,” Izzy admits. “By all accounts, you’re physically fine, don’t worry,” she adds quickly.

“What aren’t you telling us?” Alec demands more directly.

“Nothing! There’s nothing to tell, not until I have more samples to compare,” she insists, but there’s an edge to her tone that neither of them like. As wary as they are of Isabelle’s obvious avoidance there isn’t much either of them can do about it.

So Andrew waits.

---

Three weeks later Andrew and Alec are both back in the lab, and Isabelle hasn’t stopped pacing since they arrived.

“Alright, I need you both to just… not freak out, okay?”

“That isn’t helping,” Alec says immediately on edge.

“What is it?” Andrew prompts.

“So, I ran the tests. I couldn’t be certain at first when the original samples came back matching particular elements of warlock and vampire DNA we have on file, but after comparing the ones from last month to the ones from yesterday…” Isabelle hesitates, hands wringing in front of her, biting a bit on the corner of her lower lip.

“Just spit it out, Iz,” Alec says, his anxious tone matching how Andrew feels though he’d never snap at Isabelle that way. One of the perks of being related.

“I think the two of you stopped aging,” she says.

“What?” Alec sputters, eyes wide.

“You think?” Andrew asks, wondering how much uncertainty there is here.

“Okay, I know, pretty much. The tests seem pretty conclusive but it isn’t like I have anything to base it off of. No one’s ever just… become immortal before. But there’s nothing else this can be.”

Immortal. Somehow it seemed less severe when she’d originally said ‘stopped aging’, though they mean the same thing. But to hear the word immortal, it held a certain weight to it, one that Andrew didn’t like one bit.

The room is silent for a long time after that, the significance of Isabelle’s findings settling over them. It’s suffocating.

“No,” Andrew says, shaking his head. “No, that has to be wrong. Do another test. Another dozen tests! It has to be something else.”

“Does it?” Alec speaks up suddenly. “Remember what that demon said before it lashed out at us?”

Andrew tries to think back. “It said sharing warlock magic was unnatural,” he remembers.

“It said something about giving us the ‘full experience’ of being a warlock,” Alec recalls. The moment he says the words Andrew remembers, though he hadn’t before. It just sounded like nonsense at the time, just gloating to distract them. ��What if it cursed us?”

 Andrew pales at the thought. He grows still, trying to remind himself to breathe. “Then there has to be a counter, doesn’t there? Some spell that will undo it, or a potion, or--” the words tumble out of Andrew’s mouth in a panic. “--or something.” He looks over at Alec who fell into a strange calm, and looks almost guilty for a moment, though Andrew can’t imagine why. “Alec?”

“What if I don’t want to undo it?” Alec says quietly.

“What are you talking about? Why wouldn’t you-” but his words fall away abruptly. “Oh.” Magnus. Of course Alec wouldn’t mind the idea of immortality if he gets to spend his eternity with the man he loves. But Andrew doesn’t have that.

Andrew has a new relationship with a Warlock he isn’t sure even loves him, let alone loves him enough to spend forever with him. That isn’t what Lorenzo signed up for. That isn’t what Andrew signed up for! And if they can’t find a way to reverse this Andrew knows he’s facing the reality of an eternity entirely alone and he isn’t sure he can handle that.

No, scratch that, he’s absolutely positive he can’t handle that.

“It’s fine. We’ll talk to Magnus and Lorenzo, and-”

“No.” Andrew says the word immediately, Lorenzo’s name snapping him out of his spiraling thoughts. “No, you can’t tell Lorenzo.”

All he can imagine is the fact that the second Lorenzo finds out this is over - they’re over - and he doesn’t want that. Not yet. It’s still so new, Andrew doesn’t want to scare him away before he ever gets the chance to really know him. He deserves that much, he thinks selfishly.

“You have to tell him,” Alec says.

“Not yet. Please, Alec,” Andrew pleads. He doesn’t care how desperate it makes him look. He needs time to process this, to figure it out. “I’ll tell him, I swear I will, just… not yet.”

“I have to tell Magnus,” Alec points out, but his expression softens at the look on Andrew’s face. “But I’ll ask him to keep it between us. I can’t promise he will, I can’t make him, but I can ask.”

“Thank you,” Andrew sighs.

The number of thoughts that cross Andrew’s mind at that moment is staggering. He thinks of the number of people who would literally kill for a chance at immortality. He thinks of what he can accomplish with potentially limitless time to learn and improve, the skills he can develop, the people he can help.

He thinks that even considering the positives, if given a choice he wouldn’t choose it, and the guilt of something like this being wasted on him is overwhelming.

“I’d like to take the rest of the day off if that’s alright?” Andrew asks, and his own voice sounds weary in his ears.

“Of course, Andrew,” Alec agrees immediately. “Are you alright, though? You can stay here if you want, or come hang out and the Loft with me for a bit.”

Andrew knows that Alec wants to make sure he isn’t unstable or about to run off and do something stupid, a concern he’s grateful for even if it isn’t needed.

“I’m fine, really. I just need some time to process,” Andrew reassures him, giving what he hopes is a reassuring smile to both Alec and Isabelle before leaving the room and heading straight for the exit. He isn’t sure where he’s going, he just knows he needs to get out of there and clear his head.

[worbiestuff]

COVID-19 PERSONAL EXPERIENCE

COVID-19, Coronavirus, is an infectious disease caused by a newly discovered corona virus. It is spread or transmitted through droplets generated when an infected person coughs, sneezes or exhales. These droplets are too heavy to hang in the air and quickly fall to the floor or surfaces. Some common symptoms include fever, dry cough, and tiredness, loss of smell and taste, headache and so on.

From a personal perspective on how COVID-19 affected me, I would say it did so in a lot of ways; education-wise, economically, physically, mentally etc.

The first confirmed COVID-19 case in Ghana was on the 12th of March, 2020. At the time, school hadn’t reopened but was in the process of doing so. Because of this, the president instructed that we were all supposed to vacate the school/hostel premises to our various homes, signifying all studies and academics to come to an end. We ended up studying online which brought so many pros and cons, which in the end the cons outweighed the pros. Bad internet restricted me from joining classes sometimes. I wasn’t understanding most stuff being taught because most of the courses were practical. Plus, I ended up missing some due dates for my assignments and had to beg or ask permission from some lecturers to finish them up because I had to balance house chores with school work because I was obviously home and couldn’t shun them because it’s my responsibility. Also, I had divided attention because of my siblings. I have a large family and it wasn’t helping me at all coupled with the online studies. In the middle of a class, I could be called to go on an errand or just have my little siblings running around for running arounds sake. It was one hell I had to go through.

COVID-19 also affected me economically. I manage my mom’s businesses for her sometimes and during the COVID-19 period everything was literally on me. My mom sells clothes. We weren’t having as much sales as we’d have if we weren’t on lockdown. Most people weren’t purchasing clothes because there were no new occasions. Weddings, funerals, parties and the rest had been halted too. I remember a friend mentioning to me that even if she bought clothes she had nowhere to take it to so she’d rather not buy, and this was really bad because there was not as much cash flow as there was without the pandemic and the lockdown.

My movement was also restricted because of the pandemic. We stayed home for almost a year. Months without stepping outside, no church services, parties, no visitations, etc. I was not allowed outside the main gate because of this and it got boring. I was just doing or following a particular pattern or routine every day for months; wake, house chores, eat, online class, sleep, and repeat. I got tired of the routine, I got tired of being online, I got tired of being stuck inside, and I got tired of everything at a point. It got so boring but there was nothing I could do about it. I wanted to stay alive.

 My plans on travelling was tarnished. My family and I had plans on travelling during the Easter for the most famous festival of the year which was always held in Kwahu; “KWAHU OO KWAHU! This is like a ritual we always perform, going to my mom’s hometown for the festival, paragliding, hiking and having a lot of fun but this year we were restricted as the festival itself was even cancelled, prior to the president’s address to the nation. I mean we got really sad, especially my little siblings but we had to do our part, to help curb the pandemic in order to stay safe.

Despite the negative impacts it came with, I can never forget the good it did by bonding me with my friends and families. Even though my family is large, nobody really stays at home. My dad is a business man and is always travelling up and down because of the nature of his job. My mom on the other hand left home really early and came back really late, we could go a whole week without seeing her. My older siblings too hardly stayed home because they were working. Since the president announced the lockdown, we were all brought together. Our big family was back. I was seeing my dad more often, my mom and older siblings too. We would mostly gather around in the hall, watch movies or just discuss random stuff and it felt good. On the other hand I bonded well with my friends too because we were all online. Our old high school groups became more active, we were reminiscing on old times and laughing hard at old pictures. Though it was online and not physical, it felt good and real because I hadn’t spoken to some of them in years but we got bonded and more close because of the pandemic.

THE ARTIST WHO INSPIRED ME

EMMA HARDY

Based in London, Emma Hardy is well practiced in capturing the nuances of everyday life. Her images reflect an often unnoticed drama behind the scenes. Coming from a theatrical background and having worked as an actress herself before focusing on photography, Emma cites her fascination with people’s behaviour, the tensions, interactions and quirky humour, as a driving energy in her work.

Mainly self-taught Emma prefers to work with natural or available light, “I try not to impose much technique or too much of myself on my subjects.” As such, there’s a hallmark honesty to her work. Her images are infused with a believable sense of being, her portraits are intimate and unselfconscious. Tilda Swinton, Natalia Vodianova, Noomi Rapace, Michael Fassbender and Stella McCartney have sat for her, among others.

Emma finds inspiration in the chaos and unexpected beauty of life, the less seen moments in between. For each commercial client she challenges herself to bring her sense of authenticity to a necessarily constructed commercial brief, “I photograph with my heart engaged, and however manufactured an instance in photography, the test is to bring soul into commerce”. Describing her aesthetic as raw but tender, Emma finds beauty in imperfection, and polish in the detail of everyday life. And through her lens, the most ordinary moments seem steeped in romance and intrigue, as if her subjects are characters in a movie playing in her head.

WORKS

WHAT APPEALED TO ME

MOODS

Emma Hardy likes capturing the everyday nuances of life or everyday moods of life. Her images are natural and sometimes unplanned. Working with people’s behavioral manners, interactions, attitudes, etc. She tries to make her work as natural as possible and puts her heart into what she photographs, as she stated herself in a commercial brief.

 COLOUR

Emma Hardy likes to work with natural or available light.

 THE PLAN/THOUGHT PROCESS FOR THE WORK

The initial plan of the whole work was to create something like differences, get a picture of my sister and I if possible or do a clone of myself since we already look alike and are twins. This idea was to put across a message that conveys tolerance and bonding even though we’re two different people with different personalities but still twins. Later the plan changed because of certain unforeseen circumstances. This time I aimed at creating the same differences but this time with a ball, to one part would be edited as if it were night time or dark, and the other would be left with the natural light, to show daytime. This was to signify that the sun gives the moon light, and even though they are two different bodies, the needed each other. Same applies with my sister and I, each one of us has our own sides, but we need each other to be around. The final plan after a few criticisms from my lecturer was to do the Chinese symbol yin and yang.

The principle of Yin and Yang is that all things exist as inseparable and contradictory opposites, for example, female-male, dark-light and old-young. The two opposites of Yin and Yang attract and complement each other and, as their symbol illustrates, each side has at its core an element of the other (represented by the small dots). Neither pole is superior to the other nor, as an increase in one brings a corresponding decrease in the other, a correct balance between the two poles must be reached in order to achieve harmony. Personally, I feel this symbol best describes us as twins because even though we are opposites we attract and complement each other. We have tiny traits in each other. And at the core of one another, we are represented by each other.

 SKETCHES, PINTEREST INSPIRATION, MOODBOARD

FIRST DRAFT WORK

FINAL WORK

TITLE

FOUND THE GOOD INSIDE THE BAD.

I chose this title because the corona happening was a bad thing that hit us all, but even in that bad, there was a little good; me bonding with my family, especially my sister was the good.

[tricktster]

Where am I? The uncanny valley, my friend.

There is a trope in horror that I particularly love, where the protagonist realizes they are Seeing Something That They Were Not Meant To See. Maybe they open the freezer in the basement that their spouse always keeps padlocked and find a collection of severed fingers, or maybe they gaze on the unspeakable tentacled geometries of an eldritch god. No matter what The Thing is, though, the bell can’t be unrung. They can’t go back to living their life the way it was before they saw The Thing, and even in the happiest of scenarios, the ones where they get out alive, their discoveries haunt them in every frozen dinner or plate of calamari. 

I am in The Villages, the largest gated over-55 community in the world, and as a non-retiree, I was Not Meant To See This Place. 

Figure 1: Honestly some of the better art here.

Here is what happened: My parents, whom I love dearly and respect to my core, announced essentially out of the blue a few years back that they would be purchasing a house in The Villages, Florida, a retirement community that essentially occupies an entire county in central Florida. This was something of a surprise, since my parents, heretofore, had always presented as rational actors. I frankly never imagined they’d live in any gated community, much less The Villages. 

I have now visited my parents in The Villages on three occasions, and each time, I have found myself somewhere mid-visit wondering if I actually know these people at all. My parents are both tremendously intelligent professionals who are highly regarded in their northeastern community, where I was born and raised. Growing up, my parents emphasized to me and my brother the importance of education and intellectual curiosity, but also hammered home that we were to be kind, generous, empathetic, environmentally conscious, and aware of the greater world. They (particularly my mom) are crunchy as hell. As kids, my mom used to take us for walks in the nature preserve and help us identify different plants, animals and mushrooms with field guides. When we went on vacations, we went to Yellowstone and hiked, or we camped in the rainforest at eco-tourism sites. My parents were early adopters of hybrid cars. They’re passionate about music and art, architecture and history. They bought a home in the tackiest place on earth.

When I think Central Florida, I think thick forests and swampland. There’s a certain romance associated with half-rotted trees covered in Spanish moss, and pools of still water only occasionally disturbed by primordial carnivores:

Figure 2: You know, this kind of thing.

The Villages, on the other hand, look like this:

Figure 3a: For fuck’s sake.

Figure 3b: Christ.

How bad is the aesthetic in The Villages? Let me put it this way: If Tim Burton decided to make a movie about gated Floridian retirement communities, and they shot it in The Villages, when I got around to watching it, I’d be like, jesus, Tim, going back to the well with this one, huh, we get it, it’s a parody of a soulless, conformist, suburbia. Oh, a “Declaration of Restrictions has been created for each individual neighborhood, which regulates design and operational aspects, such as landscaping, repairs and maintenance, placement of satellite dishes, hedges, etc. An Architectural Review Committee controls the composition and consistency of the exterior of the residential properties within The Villages.*” Fuck you, Tim, try something new, I’d say, very smugly because I am very smug.

Oh, but wait, Tim would say, what if I told you there were forty-eight golf courses within The Villages? What if I told you there were three “town centers,” and one is designed to look like it’s an old town from the American Southwest, and one’s designed to look like a coastal tourist town, and one of them is actually designed to look like the fucking Wild West, is that choice enough for you, huh? What if I told you that every place in The Villages is accessible by golf cart? What if I told you that ridiculous old men would trick out their golf carts to look like they’re sports cars?

Figure 4: WE GET IT, TIM.

In short, The Villages is a ridiculous place. It is a theme park without rides, a clear-cut swath of swampland transformed at great expense into a facsimile of a 1950s suburb where the citizens are permitted to live their lives free of  meaningful community responsibilities. It is, at its worst, a dull and soulless celebration of wastefulness and excess, centering around one of the most historically exclusionary, and least environmentally sound, “sports.” It is all camp, and all artifice. You can go to one of three town squares every night and hear one of the rotating live bands perform, generally in front of large crowds of seated people while one or two brave couples sway awkwardly on the dance floor. Sometimes, a handful of line dancers emerge for a song to do an uncomfortable, unsmiling routine that looks more like solemn ritual than joyful performance. You can do this all while housing a three dollar Long Island Iced Tea to the dome. 

Needless to say, it’s also super white here and the politics are off-the-charts awful.

Figure 5: A picture I took last night of a store selling honest-to-god oil paintings of a slimmed down Donald Trump enjoying various leisure activities with historical figures.

Oh, and let’s just address the elephant in the room: Rumor has it this place is horny as hell, with a population that’s just riddled with STDs. I can’t find anything to substantiate the popular story that this is a hotbed for swingers, it’s just a rumor everyone I talk to seems to know about. However, given that management in The Villages certainly knows about this rumor, since everyone else in the continental US does, it seems absolutely fucking bananas bonkers that they let the promotional magazine I found in my parents’ living room go out with the following headline: 

Figure 6: Are we still doing phrasing?

I just don’t get it, man. I straight up can’t figure out what my parents see in this place, much less why they’d want to own property here. It doesn’t comport with the intelligent and engaged people I know them to be? Sometimes, it just feels almost disappointing, like the way I’m sure they’d feel if I’d chosen to go to a party school for college. 

But look, kids, I’m here venting about this insane place to you guys because I’m NOT venting it to my parents, and I’m not telling my parents that this whole gated community can blow me, because this place isn’t for me. As a non-retiree with a decent amount of punk rock sentiment left in me, I Was Not Meant To See This Place, but while I’m horrified (and oh, lord, am I horrified) by a lot of The Villages, I’m choosing kindness towards my parents and leaning into it. For whatever reason, they love it here, and they want their family to love it too, so when they asked hopefully for the hundredth time if me and my brother and sister-in-law would come down to visit, we said yes. When they asked if we’d play golf with them, I swallowed my huge distaste for the Dumbest Game of All Time, and I agreed that the manicured lawns were beautiful in their own way, and the landscaping was impressive, and I spent several hours trying to hit a ball into a hole for some fucking reason.

Here’s a fun fact about The Villages: get up early enough, and you can find alligators ambling across the golf courses, locating the next water trap to spend their day in; the biggest are fifteen feet long. The American alligator has existed in and around Florida for around eight million years, but the family alligatoroidea has existed since the late Cretaceous - 70 million years ago. Alligators have seen the dinosaurs reign and die out, and gone on to survive the rise of birds, mammals, and relatively recently, humans.

When I’m in The Villages, sometime it keeps me sane to think that whenever this garbage place collapses, the gators will swim through the wreckage and hunt in the same place an oil portrait of a slimmed down Donald Trump once hung.

[corpse--diem]

Organ’s Out Of The Bag | Morgan & Erin

Summary: Morgan interrupts Erin at work, eats her organs, and learns about the family trade.  When: Week of 5/4 Featuring: @mor-beck-more-problems​

There wasn’t a “How To Operate An Illegal Organ Trafficking Business For Dummies” book to help Erin work out the best system for organizing and storing frozen organs. Shocker. Buying a second industrial cooler would have been as expensive as it was suspicious, which made trial and error the only real option. It was tedious, and there was probably still a better way, but she’d found her groove. Hollowed, block-like shelving units had been attached to the far end of the wall. Other items were stored on top but she could lift the face of each one, almost like a locker, to fill and empty as needed. Only she knew where the latches were and only she could open it. A small feat, sure, but you had to take your wins where you could get them. Maybe she was finally getting the hang of this? That was a thought that should have sat more uncomfortably on her mind or deterred the smirk on her lips. If she had a spare moment at all, it wasn’t for that kind of introspection. 

With her music loud and her focus set, she made quick work of it. Saran Wrap, label, and onto the next. Just another Tuesday. One more load to go and she could break for dinner. A figure filled the doorway when she turned, startling her backwards while some instinctive part of her reached for the knife in her back pocket. “Jesus Christ, Morgan…” she huffed out, freezing before she pulled out the blade. “You scared the shit out of me. What—“ she narrowed her eyes, her panic doubling in that moment. “You’re not allowed down here.”

After the video incident, Morgan hadn’t expected Erin to be someone who was okay with hanging out with her newly dead and only semi-feeling self. But aside from the body horror, Erin thought she was ‘cool’. Maybe Erin lived with death in a way that kept her from feeling it. Maybe it wasn’t a tar pit for her. Maybe it didn’t even pull, but could just...sit its ass down and let her be. Erin had her life pretty together, right?

Morgan traipsed up the entrance of the Nichols’ house since Erin had said she could just come in, but there was no sign of her, or any life going on in the house. So she turned instead to the lower levels where they had passed through for the ritual. She found her bent over a table with...organs. Bags and bags of organs. Morgan stayed put, hand over her stomach, her mouth watering. At least one of those was a heart, and those were thick enough to remind her of meat sometimes. But there was the whole other question of what they were doing here. Morgan didn’t know a lot about mortuary work, but there were too many different kinds laying around near each other for it to have anything to do with her ‘clients’. And if it wasn’t that, than maybe--

Erin turned just as Morgan reached for a bag of brains and a pair of eyeballs. She smiled, bright and sheepish. “Hi…” She drew out the greeting as long as possible. “We had plans. You said I could come and show you more weird zombie things?” Her gaze slid sideways to the table. Stars, it all looked so good. “I knocked, you didn’t answer,” she went onto explain, popping one of the eyeballs in her mouth and chewing thoughtfully. “And since I already knew my way around…” She shrugged and swallowed the eyeball, popped the other one into her mouth, doing her damnedest to savor it before she stuffed the whole table into her mouth. “So, anyway, what’s with all the random dead organs on your table?”

Fuck. Erin had completely forgotten about their plans. Not that she wasn’t excited for some extreme body horror and manipulation. Between the lack of sleep, the mimes lurking around every corner, and maintaining her day and night jobs, things were slipping through the cracks. “Sorry,” she shook her head, moving to turn the music off. “I got caught up in--” she started to explain, until she was watching Morgan pop an eyeball into her mouth like she was sampling an appetizer. It wasn’t bad enough that Morgan saw the goods, she had to snack on them too. Five minutes in and she was already out a couple hundred bucks. This was off to a hell of a start. “Stop that!” She ran for the table, collecting the rest of the saran-wrapped organs in her arms. Fuck. Fuck. “I was about to put them away,” she answered, aware that it was more of a nonanswer. “They’re not hors d'oeuvres so can you just--try to refrain?” She huffed, moving to the freezer. Glanced back, unable to feel just a little uncomfortable at the thought of being alone with an apparently snacky zombie. “I thought you just were into brains, anyway?”

Morgan backed away from the table, frowning as she cradled her snacks to her chest. “This is me trying!” She whined, mouth still half full. This wasn’t a good time to wonder if whatever species this had come from actually tasted better than the rabbit eyes she normally had, but the pull in her, the wanting, was so much she closed her eyes to enjoy the last gummy chunks sliding down her throat as she finished it off. “Um, so, funny story? Brains make my world go round, but dead bodies and viscera are like...well I never did even soft drugs when I was alive, but I can’t help myself. I’ve stuck my face straight into a dead baby deer. It’s like true love...in uh, you know, gross...foodie sort of way.” She swallowed the last of the eyeball, feeling embarrassed. Then she remembered that Erin was the one with the zombie buffet on her table. “You never answered my question. What are you doing with the zombie buffet on your table? This doesn’t look all that much like Funeral Director of the Year stuff.” She opened the brain bag and started to munch on that next.

Erin couldn’t help but stare with vague fascination as she watched Morgan explain herself, chewing on a half eaten eyeball. “I’ll try to remember that next time, then,” she winced a little, watching her money go right down Morgan’s throat. Nothing that could be done about it now, anyway. Flustered a little at the question, realizing Morgan wasn’t about to let up. “Well--I was saving that one for you anyway so, please. Enjoy,” she nodded towards the human brain she was already feasting on. A little sarcastic considering she was helping herself again but more genuine than not. Fuck. This wasn’t at all how she’d anticipated this little visit to go. With a long sigh, she pulled her rubber gloves off. “It’s--complicated,” she said hurriedly, clearing her throat. Had she ever actually straight up told anyone about this? Nic, Marley--hell, even Nell just knew. No explanations had been necessary. “And I’m a damn good funeral director. This doesn’t change that.” Her fingers tapped on the silver table and she eyed her carefully. “If I tell you, this stays between us, right?” Morgan was smart enough to probably figure it out at this point, but the assurance didn’t hurt.

Morgan continued to frown, miffed that she was on the pointy end of the sarcasm stick when she had been asked to come. What was she supposed to do, stay at the door all night and go home sad? But Erin seemed frazzled beyond being interrupted. Morgan’s dig at her above-board job proved that too. Morgan was even beginning to feel bad. She tilted her head, trying to get a better read on Erin. “I’m a zombie, Erin. I know all about awkward secrets to keep.” She started to edge closer, plucking a chunk of brain matter off to chew on. And, holy shit, she had to know how long this one had been left sitting and at what temperature, because it made her taste buds melt like burgers used to--but there were more important things to deal with. Erin had some kind of organ stockpiling problem, and maybe a ‘oops my friend knows I’m into some weird, sketchy looking shit’ problem. “If it helps, it looks like you’re running some kind of under the table organ pantry. So either I’m right, and I just made your job easier for you, or I’m wrong, and you have even more reason to correct me. But...you just saw me eat eyeballs and I used to sell people shiny rocks I transmuted out of garbage. I’m really not gonna judge.”

Erin chewed on the inside of her lip as Morgan spoke. Yep. Of course she figured it out. What the fuck else was a mortician doing with a bunch of unlabeled organs saran wrapped in the embalming room? All signs pointed to shady. This was entirely her fault, which bothered her the most about this whole thing. She fucked up. Forgot their plans. Something had to give, eventually. It was bound to. Juggling businesses, murderous mimes and actively trying to not be a shitty friend was a dangerous game. But she trusted Morgan, as much as that was worth. Had to, considering how calmly she was chewing on Mr. “Mr. Reid’s dearly departed brain, after taking out his eyeballs in less than five minutes flat. “Organ harvesting and trafficking, actually,” she corrected her, taking a deep breath after she said the words out loud. Just rip the bandaid off, right? Felt wrong on her tongue for more reasons than she cared to think about. “It’s--” she shook her head, glancing down at the table again for a moment, then forced herself to stare back up at Morgan. Fingers thrumming against the table again, her nerves alight. “My dad got into it before I took the business over and I got stuck with it because he couldn’t handle it. Please believe me when I say this isn’t something I ever wanted.”

Oh. Oh, this was something serious. Was Morgan still a person who knew how to take on serious things with new people? She was feeling okay today. Sort of float-y in a way that made a distant part of her worried, but she wasn’t tired. Not like she was on other days. But this whole—thing Erin was tearsely explaining wasn’t something looked suddenly less like a dirty secret and more like a two ton brick she’d been hauling for too long. Morgan could at least understand that feeling, even if the rest of the situation confused her. “Shit,” she said. “That explains some of the vague trauma you mentioned. I can’t even imagine…” She stepped closer, more confident now that she wasn’t in trouble, “Can ask if—I mean, is it going well? Are you...going to be okay?”

Relief came with the confession like an exhale. A momentary reprieve to that tension knotting in her chest for months now. The inhale felt just as horrible as it always had. The knot settled back where it knew it belonged in Erin’s chest. Morgan wouldn’t judge. She wouldn’t rat her out. But there was something unsafe about having it out in the open like this. A little bit of control was gone and that almost felt worse than the deed itself. “Good as it can be, I guess? It was a little rocky at first but--I’m getting there.” She tossed on a smile, raising a brow at Morgan. “Don’t worry about it. Just try not to eat my merchandise? Those eyeballs you demolished set me back a couple hundred dollars,” she teased, a chuckle in her voice to hide the very real pain there. Dale was a good scapegoat for that kind of thing anyway--the big oaf was as heavy handed as they came. She leaned against the table, glancing between the brain in her hands and Morgan’s gaze. “Is… that your first human brain?”

“Oh. Oh, shit!” Morgan cried, face dropping with dismay. “I really couldn’t help it. That’s not just like, me being weird. I can probably get Deirdre to reimburse you? I don’t have to mention the eyeballs, or the brain, if you don’t want, but I uh...don’t think she’d mind it either.” It was a little too late with the brain, so Morgan took a sheepish dip back into the bag to pull off another chunk. It was halfway up to her mouth when Erin said the word human. Morgan looked down at the brain again. “Oh,” she said, voice squeaking. “So that’s why it tastes so good.” She continued to stare at the brain. From the size of it, she probably should’ve known it wasn’t just some deer. But holy shit. You’d think there’d be fanfare or at least a good shock of agony over baby’s first lite cannibalism. But it had just been a really yummy brain, no more interesting than another until she’d tasted it. “Uh...yeah. If that’s what this is...yeah.” Was it bad, that it didn’t mean anything to her? That the only thought she’d had was how yummy? Sure, deer and raccoon and cow brain were nice. But this was steak. Or cheesecake. For all that it looked the same, the taste was enough to have let her feel good about something while she’d chewed. Then another question came to her. “Not to be gross, but are these...was this…” she jiggled the bag in her hand. “...One of your clients?”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Erin finally gave a genuine laugh, shaking her head. Was that one of those zombie quirks? Like how amputated body parts turned to goo? “I actually really was saving that brain for you.” She had to admit, she was a little surprised at Morgan’s hesitation. This was a funeral home. No way she could’ve thought animal brains were more readily available than an actual human’s. Didn’t deter her, she noted, when her fingers dipped back into the bag. “Well,” she said, starting to pull off her blue scrubs, raising a brow. “My clients have some organs to spare. Waste not, want not?” She offered with a shrug. It was more difficult than she anticipated to keep her eyes off of Morgan. She looked the same, and if it wasn’t for the brain food she was gobbling down, it would’ve been impossible to see anything different about her. But she was eating a human brain. She knew what happened to some of the parts that left her basement, but this was the first time she’d witnessed it first hand. “Doesn’t bother you, does it?” Another pause as she tried not to overtly stare anymore. “You know, I swear I didn’t invite you over for this but--if that’s something you think you’d want on a regular basis, I can definitely help you out.”

Morgan looked down at the brain. She was still waiting for the horror to set in, but mostly she was worried what Remmy would say, or Deirdre. She’d only given her animal brains so far, not even an offer or a suggestion of anything else. They wouldn’t blame her for an accident, but liking it, enjoying it---Morgan saw herself split and cracked between two lenses. One monstrous, one that simply was. ‘Don’t eat the humans’ was the number one thing she heard from hunter types. It was even a question she remembered asking herself. Do they eat people? Do they hurt people? As if it made them inherently better, safer, if the answer was “right.” But here she was, some poor guy’s insides already in her stomach. And as much as she was troubled, it took effort to maintain. “B-bother?” She asked. Shrugged. “Does it bother you? You seem pretty chill with me eating in front of you, all things considered. I mean, would you really….supply that sort of thing? For me?”

There was some kind of internal struggle going on behind Morgan’s eyes. Was this weird for her too? She’d been snacking on them like Erin was going out of business. “I don’t know, maybe I should be more bothered,” she shrugged, running a hand through her hair. “But I fished them out of the guy, you know?” Maybe it was like how a butcher didn’t have any trouble selling even the most obscure parts of the cow. In this case, she was simply more familiar with the human body. “Doesn’t bother me,” she confirmed, giving her a smile to cement that. “Brains are a little more expensive, just so you know. But yeah. This is what I do. It wouldn’t be a problem at all.”

“You...did all this yourself? And the guy still looked like himself at the end? With the--” Morgan motioned to her skull. “I’m usually in a weird...zombie haze whenever I’m eating out in the wild, so things like being careful don’t really make it into the thought process. But...bones are hard. If you get it really wrong, you get a bunch of gross pointy bits in the food. Worse than eggshells in your fried rice. What do you do to get to the stuff and humpty-dumpty them back together?” But something else snagged her mind more than her curiosity, pulling her back. “You really mean it? About the not weird and the...supply? Just, you know, for sometimes? Really?” She wondered how expensive Erin was talking here.

“The brain’s usually always taken out during an autopsy, along with the rest of the organs.” Erin explained. “They all get tossed into the visceral bag, which then gets tucked into the stomach cavity. Makes my job easier because then all I have to do is take them out and pack them up.” This would make the whole process way slower and harder if she had to go in every time and dissect them herself, she knew that much. Her brows furrowed at the thought of Morgan out there in the woods, running around and crushing animal skulls. “Yeah, I mean it. Can’t have you out there chasing after squirrels or whatever all the time, right?” Wasn’t exactly inconspicuous. She shrugged. “My boss usually likes to charge a higher fee but I don’t mind cutting costs. For friends,” she smiled.

“Oh, wow. That’s...one way to do it.” Morgan realized with unsettling clarity that she had never thought of the mechanics of death before. When she had lost her parents and her friends, she had been too wrapped up in the loss and unfairness of it to remember there was something practical, even mechanical to death. Even in humans, with the rituals and the preservation that kept the flies and maggots at bay, there was something. A process detached from all that they had meant before the last breath went out. It wasn’t bad, or hurtful, it was simply...after. Morgan came out of her thought to look at Erin, steeped her whole life in this strange, thankless care. It was essential, even as it rattled and stung the rest of the world, her clients. She didn’t even have much of a chip on her shoulder about it, she just continued, and found a way to make “after” work for other people too. Well, maybe not “found,” but she was still at it. And now that the shock of discovery had worn off, she didn’t seem that ashamed about it. A rush of endearment filled her and she ran to Erin, brain still jiggling in the bag and pulled her into a crushing hug. “Thank you, Erin,” she said. “You’re a really good friend, you know that?” She lingered there a moment, trying to fix words to how...fine all of this seemed. Not normal, they wouldn’t be hiding in a basement if it was normal, but fine. She pulled away, backing up to hop on the table, taking another handful of brain. “You wouldn’t have heard from somewhere about how human brains taste, would you? I feel weirdly like...playing board games. And listening to the radio. Like there’s a hockey game on? I don’t like hockey, but if you know where to put one on--” She gave a thumbs up and took another bite of brain. “But, also, I’ve lost my foot like twice this week. If you wanted to check out weird things my bones can do still.”

Erin looked up just in time to brace herself for the shorter woman hurling herself at her. “Oh, you’re--,” she huffed out a laugh, genuinely struggling to catch her breath. For a moment it felt like she had just ran into a wall with arms. “You’re welcome,” she finished, briefly wrapping her arms around her. Morgan was a lot of things Erin was still trying to properly grasp, but she was a good one. Chaotic, but good. That much she did know. She held her hand to her chest when Morgan pulled away, laughing despite herself. “I’ve never thought to ask,” she answered honestly, leaning against the same table Morgan was perched on. “How does it taste?” When she started to prattle on more questions, things so specific to the man in the ziploc bag in her hands, she couldn’t help but stop in her tracks. “Don’t tell me you’re suddenly craving a tall, crisp IPA now too?” She asked, glancing back and forth between Morgan and the bag. His widower had carried on about the man’s favorite things to her just that morning before crying into her shoulder. “You don’t mean you’ve literally lost your foot, right?” As soon as she asked the question, she couldn’t help but realize how very wrong she probably was.

Morgan shrugged. “Rich. Like, a good medium-rare burger. Or like, cheesecake? It’s good. Rich. My mouth is literally watering eating it.” She took another bite. “Ew, IPA? No, I mean, I can’t taste anything anymore, but I came from Houston, and our beer culture is way to evolved for an IPA. Are you saying--” She eyed the brain pointedly. “I actually kinda know Mr. What’s-his-name? When I eat him?” She shrugged, a little uncomfortable. Having real, meaningful parts of people in her head wasn’t something she was sure she liked. But stars, whats-his-name tasted good. “Ooh, but actually, I did mean literally.” She kicked off her flats and wiggled her bare toes. “I don’t have anything to break them with, but if you got anything fancy in here, you can knock yourself out. Like--” She pressed them against a chair leg, more and more until they crumbled and bent over in a way toes normally shouldn’t. It was a satisfying sting of pain. She flexed them again and they righted themselves before both their eyes, only a little dislocated, really. She smiled up at Erin, kicking her legs with a little satisfaction. “I mean, when I ran into this scary eye-hands critter, I just lost the whole thing. And with the killer clams. But we’re good as new now!” She looked around the room for wherever Erin kept her music. “I do kinda mean it about hockey though.”

“Mr. Reid drank IPA’s,” Erin corrected, a slow smirk on her lips as she watched her. She didn’t have any particular thoughts about beer. Beer was beer. Some of it was good, some of it was bad, but it all got the job done in the end. She couldn’t help but stare as Morgan seemed to crush her toes, then flexed them back into shape again. “Whoa,” she said in genuine amazement. An idea sparked and she turned, digging into one of the cabinets. “Yeah, over there,” she said, pointing towards a radio across the room. She pulled out one of her biggest, thickest trocars. This wouldn’t hurt her right? Erin smiled, raising a brow. “Hey--can I try something?”

[mychemicalficrecs]

hi, do you know any good vampire frerard fics? :)

Hi Nonny!

I do know a few of those: check out this list that's all about Gerard as a vampire (and mostly Frank/Gerard). If that can't quench your thirst, try this list!I've read the first four of these (no. 2 & 3 are the same universe) but there are A LOT of fics about Vampire Frank/Gerard on AO3 and all of these looked really interesting, so there should be something for every taste!Some fics on this list have multiple pairings, I've added those to the descriptions when they seemed more than a background or past relationship.

Vampire Frank/Gerard

Gerard Way's (Vampire) Detective Agency by jjtaylor, Pennyplainknits, more ships in later fics, 164k, Mature, Teen And Up Audiences, General Audiences. Pete, in Decaydance Mansion, with a yarrow stake. Frank and Gerard, in the greenhouse, with a plant of questionable origin. Bob, everywhere you look, with a gang of assassins for justice. Vampires, valets, pamphlets, haunted furniture, dub-thrall, disembodied voices, zombie couriers, and sinister rituals.

They Came From Outer Jersey! by thatsfinewithus, Gen, Frank/Gerard, 25k, Rated R. New London Fire is an elite fringe government force assigned the task of protecting the earth from some of its more interesting threats: those from beyond the atmosphere or even the universe. They've handled dangerous cases before, but they've never seen anything like...ZOMBIES FROM SPACE. Vampires, long hunted in lore and legend, are now the earth's only saviors. There is little information as to who sent the creatures until Mikey Way, head of the NLF, finds out more by being abducted. Is it too late for him? Is it too late for the earth? Find out how six vampires, one government general, and one frustrated comic book artist save the earth in...THEY CAME FROM OUTER JERSEY!!

I Think I Thought (I Saw You Try) by thatsfinewithus, 3k, NC-17. Vampires, and MCR, and porn. Welcome to some weird AU world in which Gee only does awesome comics and Frank is a vampire.

A State Of Orange by gala_apples, Frank/Mikey, Frank/Gerard, 20k, Explicit. Being a halfling in a red state can sometimes cause issues for Frank Iero. He’s the weakest at Jett Clement High School, and probably the entire state (not counting the meal plans). His moods are oddly stable, as much as he tries to be mercurial. And being able to withstand the sun for up to twenty minutes only allows him more time to be forced into chores. Still, his parents are insane if they think he’s going to be happy about their decision. Frank doesn’t want to move to a Mixed state. How is he supposed to get great friends? How is he supposed to find great food? How is he supposed to have great sex? But Frank doesn’t have a choice. He’s New Jersey bound for the next year, if not longer. He’ll be surrounded by tame vampires who have been nagged out of a sex drive, and humans he’s not allowed to eat. Mixed states suck. Lucky for him, not every person in Jersey sucks.

All's Night by MizErie, 16k, Explicit. The war between humans and vampires has been raging for centuries. Too long according to Frank Iero. But if all humans aren't considered equal, what chance do vampires have in the fight for equality? That's why when Frank bought and began running his small bar, The Jukebox, he also implemented All’s Night. All’s Night began as an all-inclusive Tuesday night for tolerant humans and vampires to come together and socialize. Its popularity in the community has grown, and Frank has since started hosting All’s Night on Thursdays as well. Those are his two favorite nights of the week.

Life as a Process by ViciousVenin, 57k, Explicit. Frank's college experience isn't exactly what he was hoping for. He has no idea what he wants to do with his life, his RA scares him, and his roommate Gerard seems pretty weird. Really weird, actually, but not in a bad way. As the two of them get closer, Frank finds that Gerard is one of the most interesting people he's ever met, and cute as fuck to boot. Frank just wishes he could figure out what Gerard is hiding...

The Life You Always Dreamed Of by caffienedcold, 180k, Mature. You’d think having grown up in New Jersey, Frank would’ve outgrown his horror movie fixation. But no, he’s thirty, teaching Italian in fucking Rhode Island and he actually believes the student gossip that the art teacher is a vampire. So what if Frank has had an awful crush on him since the school year started? He’d helped Mr. Way move into his classroom and carried a box containing issue one of Doom Patrol, a Batman figure, and splattered tubes of screen printing ink. You really couldn’t blame him for the crush. And the vampire rumors? Icing on the cake. At least until it’s Frank’s blood on the line.

'Til the Sun Goes Down by BasementVampire, 2k, Explicit. Frank wants to fuck his best friend. Gerard wants to drink Frank's blood.

I Think I'd Go Insane Without You by hellborn, 3k, Mature. Gerard just smiles, his lips closed, eyes dark red and eager. Mikey covers his face with his hands and squeezes the empty bag between his calloused fingers, "I must be out of my goddamned mind for even considering this." A dangerous, thin-lipped smirk spreads across Gerard's face and Mikey can see row after row of long, sharp, teeth gleaming from between his bloodstained lips, "Come along, Mikes, it's time to dig up my boyfriend's dead body!"

Mortui Non Mordant by Tezy, 32k, General Audiences. “Does that matter right now? I’m – fucking dead, man. I wanted to do so much shit with my life before I died!” “You still can,” the guy said. “Like, nothing’s stopping you.” Gerard leapt to his feet, aghast at how casually he was treating his death. That wasn’t very good manners. “Except being dead.” “What did you want? Fucking ballet dancing at your funeral? Get over it, we all did.”

Those Cemetery Eyes by corruptedkid, 11k, Explicit. Every second Gerard was absent, Frank felt like there was a hole in his chest. The day Mikey showed up at his doorstep blotchy and tearstained, the hole collapsed into a supernova, turning him inside out and swallowing him whole.

at midnight all the agents by orphan_account, 18k, Mature. "I'm so, so sorry, I didn't meant to kill you," the black-haired man said in a distressed voice.

we only come out at night by cemetery_driven, 2k, Teen And Up Audiences. Gerard and Frank are just stupid vampire boyfriends.

Vampire AU by Andromedas_Void, 26k, Explicit and Teen And Up Audiences. Mister Francis Anthony Iero, Junior, Your presence is requested this evening at 221 Upper Birch Lane, North London. A carriage will be awaiting you at 3:00 pm sharp. Cordially yours, Gerard Arthur Way, Esq.

burning up in the sun by akamine_chan, 12k, Explicit. Life hasn't been the same since the Rift. Frank hadn't been planning on getting stuck in this stupid town, kept captive in the sketchiest bar in the universe, chained to the counter like an animal. And just when he'd been sure that nothing could surprise him anymore, he was rescued by a rock 'n' roll band of vampires. He hadn't seen that one coming.

There's A Lot Of Vampires Out There by iamdali, 27k, Explicit. In the year 2025 over 90% of the word's population are vampires. These days, vampires don't have to prowl alleys for human victims, massive medical co-operations mass produce blood and inject it in to every day food. Gerard Way is an office boy for one of the biggest companies in the US, and when he's not paper pushing for Vladimir Co he's plotting to find his still human brother with his companion, Frank.

Like a Secret In Your Throat by frankie_ann, 10k, Explicit. Frank sells himself as a live-in housekeeper/boyfriend. Gerard is a vampire (and independently wealthy artist) with a deeply unhealthy blood addiction who could use a hand around the house now that Mikey is off at school. …Mostly there’s a lot of porn. And blood. And I do believe in happy endings.

(To Die Will Be) An Awfully Big Adventure by FayJay, Frank/Gerard, Lindsey/Gerard, 73k, Mature. Gerard has always vaguely liked the idea of being a vampire, in much the same way he's always vaguely liked the idea of time travel, or of being a pirate - but it's only when he wakes up dead that he realises that not all his fans (or friends) are actually human. This is rather a shock to the system, but Gerard does his best to deal with the fact that he's now an undead American, and he's lucky enough to get a little help from an unexpected corner. Just as he thinks he's starting to get the hang of being a vampire, however, everything suddenly goes to hell in a handbasket, and before he knows it there are angry vampires slayers chasing him around LA, and an urgent appointment with the Fairy Queen looming before him... A story about love, family, metamorphosis, art, trust and geekery.

Cycle of Souls by Green, Gerard/Mikey, Frank/Gerard, Brian/Gerard, 49k, Explicit. Gerard loses his brother in the 17th century, and is turned shortly after. He grieves for his lost brother for centuries, but becomes content when he meets a man named Frank. Now, in the 21st century, he sees someone who looks exactly like his lost brother. In fact, he's positive the young Mikey is his dead brother come back to life. Will Mikey accept a vampire into his life, or is Gerard destined to lose him yet again?

[howwelldoyouknowyourmoon]

Ms. U was a Japanese UC member given a Korean husband who beat her

Hello, I will tell you about my experiences.

I was born in Japan in a village rich in nature. Due to the characteristics of the region, there were many dual-operated farmers and many average families. There were four in my family, including my parents and my grandmother. I grew up without any discomfort. I had a lot of friends and liked sports. After graduating from high school, I left my parents and entered a Christian college in 1984. While living in the college dormitory I spent my days devoted to my studies and circle activities [college clubs?]. However, there was a problem at a ‘retirement’ sports game in the fall of the second year, just before our job hunting activities began. For me, having learned through experience that the time and results of my efforts were in direct proportion, the problem at the game was like a disaster that suddenly hit me. It was my first frustration in my life. The other teammates continued as if nothing had happened, but I couldn’t forgive the person who caused the problem.

I read books and asked my seniors, but my heart was unsettled. I hated myself for worrying and not knowing what to do. Then I remembered the pamphlet I had received after I had answered a questionnaire which had been inserted in the student handbook. I made a phone call to what turned out to be a Video Center.(2) I started attending the Video Center and got a job. I was very impressed with lecturer Kurahara’s theory of the fall of man, and I felt something good was happening. After that, I got a job close to my home and went to work, so I had a chance to go out and dedicate my time [at the Video Center] in return. I wanted to commit myself more and more to their work.

I told my parents that I wanted to quit my job and do God’s work full time. For nine months I fought with them over the issue. Finally, my father brought a scythe like the ones used to cut trees. He held it against my neck, and yelled at me if I would go anyway, but my determination was not shaken. Even if my parents could not understand it then, I believed that the day would surely come [when they would understand], and I felt that I could not make the True Parents of Heaven and Earth (3) and God sad. My determination was further strengthened.

▲ Japanese Microbus MFT (Mobile Fundraising Team)

In 1986, I devoted myself full time and moved with the Evangelism Task Force Micro (4) for 21 weeks and with selling McCol drinks (5) for periods ranging from several months to several years. I rested only one day per month. I woke up early every morning to fulfill the church’s indemnity conditions (6) and spent the whole day working without rest. However, for the providence for the realization of heaven on earth, I had a sense of responsibility that if I did not do it and work with dedication, then who would do it – so I lived every day with burning passion. Sometimes I watched and heard my brothers and sisters fall by the wayside one by one. I also heard that they were like Adam or Eve who quit because of the pressure for donations issue, or that they were tempted and caught by the pastors who opposed the church, so I devoted myself to the faith even more, so that I would not lose the conditions that I had made to Satan.

▲ Magazine article about Hiroko Yamasaki at the 1992 mass marriage. She was a very famous Olympic gymnast.

Then, in 1992, after seven year of devotion, I participated in the mass marriage of 30,000 couples in Seoul, Korea. Hiroko Yamasaki and Junko Sakurada were in the same mass marriage. The Blessing is the most important thing in the doctrine of the Unification Church. [Through the ‘Blessing’ original sin is cleansed and children born are free from that sin. The fee which the Japanese members had to pay to participate in the ‘Blessing’ was $11,600. Koreans paid a small fraction of that fee.] I had long hoped for the Blessing and now it had been realized for me. My Jucheja (subject partner = groom / husband) (7) was the same age as me and was a self-employed man. I heard that his sister was in the 124 couple marriage Blessing [of 1963] (8) and she had made True Parents’ suits and had been invited by them to their home and had dinner with them. Then I thought it was fortunate that he was from a very religious family. After the marriage Blessing ceremony, I returned to Japan. Up to that time I had been doing financial activities to support the providence in Japan, but this time I worked part-time at a sports facility to earn living expenses such as expenses to go to and live in Korea. That job alone did not pay enough, so I asked for help from my family. About four years after my dedication to the church, my grandmother and my father had both died of illnesses and so my mother was left living alone. 

My mother was worried that it would be nice if my subject partner (husband) was Japanese, and that I would struggle because of my marriage. Whenever I came home, I heard a cry from under the blanket where she slept next to me. But my mother’s worries did not change me at all. She eventually gave up on her daughter who would not listen to anything she said, and even gave me money so that I could go to Korea six months after my Blessing with the last group going to Korea. 

In Korea, we gathered at a training center and spent several weeks until the area where we each would do ​​newspaper deliveries was decided. In addition, my subject partner (husband) came to visit and set a time to meet and greet his family. But the day I visited his parents, I was suddenly guided and escorted to the hospital. It was supposedly to check my back pain which I suffered from due to a car accident when I was working with the McCol business, but I was suddenly told to get a diagnosis and return to Japan.

I had just came to Korea with the money I earned from part-time jobs and some help I received from my mother, so I could not understand why I was forced to leave. I could not talk to a Korean leader because I could not speak Korean, but there was a spiritual counselor I could consult with, who was one of the 6,500 Korean-Japanese couples. The counselor advised me that the initial phase is so important that it is best to do as I am told, and that there is at least a half year of training period after becoming a housekeeper – so I returned to my home after three weeks [in Korea]. 

My mother was surprised to see me returning so suddenly, but she did not say anything to me, as if she saw something in my face. However, I had a sense of crisis that my Blessing might break if things went wrong, so I returned to my subject partner (husband) again a month later. There, we talked to each other while looking up the words in a dictionary. His conclusion was that the Unification Church’s doctrine was wrong, and he gave up the Unification Church faith and tried to undo the Blessing. He said he wanted to save as many people as possible, and tried to convince me to quit the Unification Church. Then he started explaining why its doctrine was wrong. I was very shocked.

For the first time, I felt a small crack in the faith that I had held firmly without any doubts. However, as I consulted with my spiritual parents [the people who introduced me to the church], I was given a new order to witness to my husband again after pretending to leave the Unification Church. What would my mother, who gave me money just because I asked, have felt when she saw me come back from Korea only to tell her that I would go to Chiba to meet my subject partner (husband)’s older brother and that my subject partner is coming back to me? I was only interested in my own faith and keeping the ‘Blessing’. I did not realize how troubled my mother was in her mind. 

Two months after I started living with my subject partner (husband), my mother took her own life. It was the time when my grandmother and father’s third year anniversary ceremonies ended and my mother could start living more comfortably. She had been exhausted from taking care of my grandmother and my father. She had been getting all the blame from relatives. I wanted to make my mother feel better by witnessing to her, but I did not know if that was wrong in itself, and, just like I lied to my subject partner that I had quit the Church, I should have lied to my mother to save her from committing suicide. I was overwhelmed with all sorts of feelings – the feeling that I was responsible for her death, the feeling that she had abandoned me, and many other emotions.

Most of all, the result of all my efforts for my faith by sacrificing everything was that I was in a miserable situation contrary to all my expectations. I could not even figure out what had really happened. As I greeted and spoke to my relatives after the 49-day ritual (9), they promised me that they would approve and accept my marriage if I left the Unification Church, and as long as I came back home and kept my parents’ rites – so I came home. My husband was initially all for the idea of me coming home with him, but he did not speak Japanese and became mentally unstable due to the closed atmosphere and discrimination in rural life. I tried a lot of different things and gave him encouragement to change his mood, but he started destroying everything.

He threw and broke trash cans, radios, chairs, TVs, and so on. And he also threw them at me. At first, he was breaking things once every few months, but as our child was born and it took more time for me to take care of our child, the intervals between his violence became less and and his actions worse. He also started to hit and kick me. Even so, I endured it all because from time to time he said he was sorry. But things continued and got worse. I left the house with my child after things became unbearable. At any rate, I wanted to go to the Unification Church and consult with my spiritual parents, so I went to a nearby church.

They told me to return to the Unification Church after breaking up with my husband, and I, who had been sacrificing everything to keep my Blessing, could not truly believe their advice. And I could not even go to church. After that, I thought it was because my faith was weak, so I kept consulting with my spiritual parents and reading homilies [discourses] on the Divine Principle without telling my husband. Over time the fights got worse and I was afraid to read any homilies. My second child was born while living for 5 or 6 more years as I persevered to keep my Blessing, even though I was told by my husband that I was a bad person and I had to change my habits first. The new baby was a boy, and my husband was also happy about that. He recommended that I go to a Christian church nearby, as if he wanted to renew our family by using this opportunity of the birth of our son to make a new start. 

I had been enduring up to that point, but going to a Christian church was a turning point in my life. When I told the new pastor that I was a Unification Church member, he said he would introduce me to a pastor who knew the Unification Church issue well. He was a so-called anti-pastor. Meeting the anti-pastor was so scary for me that it made my legs tremble. However, my mind and body were exhausted from the repeated fights and my fleeing home. The children were also anxious, so I wanted to hold onto anything. My husband was erratic at his job, and our village no longer had enough work for everyone. So I moved for a new job, and then found I was in an environment in which I could really leave the Unification Church. Meanwhile I kept taking different jobs here and there. I agreed to my husband’s wish he had to become a pastor, which had been his childhood dream. He said that he would study for it. The study took him two and a half years. During that time I was able to consult with a new church and a new pastor until my husband returned. It had been eleven years since receiving our Blessing. It was not a simple task to admit that I had been mind-controlled, beyond what I had been able to be aware of.

Just as I started to figure out my life, I was troubled and could not take it when I realized that I had become a perpetrator after being a victim. Even if everyone forgave me, I felt as if I could never forgive myself. I wondered why I did not just stay in the church without knowing anything instead of meeting my husband. In my mind I kept walking down a long dark tunnel. Also, I realized that really I was experiencing domestic violence in my relationship with my husband. I started reading every book I could find on the issue while I was studying at a nonprofit organization group. During this time I drank up all I was learning just as a sponge sucks up water. I repeatedly reflected on my life. Expressing my thoughts in words made things more clear, as did the counseling I was receiving, having a more peaceful mind, and meeting and talking to former members (10) who had already been able to leave the Unification Church faith. 

The last step for me was a fight against the flashbacks I had been experiencing. With the help of the pastor, I was able to thoroughly overcome the flashbacks. At the end of my rehabilitation, I received a call from my husband saying that he had given up his dream of becoming a pastor and he would just return [to Korea]. When I think about it now that there is no reason to go back to the Unification Church issue. I imagined that if I received the same domestic violence as before, I would have resisted him with a weapon because I did not have enough strength to protect myself. In other words, I think I would have been in the same situation as Miyuki Park who killed her abusive husband (11).

This kind of situation is not unique to a person like Miyuki Park, and it me hurts to think that, if I had been in the same circumstances, I might do the exact same thing. I think this is the problem with the “Blessing”. I think there are still many church sisters who are suffering and troubled under these same circumstances. I cannot help but think that there might have been something to help a person like Park. [The local Unification Church in Korea did not support her although she asked for help many times, according to an extensive magazine report.] At that time, I was able to confess to a Domestic Violence counselor that if something went wrong I would have attacked with a knife. I had calmed down by the time the day came when my husband returned home. I had been encouraged by the words of others that this marriage would not work out in the future, and that the children did not need such a father who had so many problems. So I decided to divorce him and I left the house. 

I went to see a lawyer who knew the Unification Church problem very well. Since my husband never came to the court, the divorce was decided unilaterally. It had been 26 years since I had dedicated myself to the church. I was feeling so tired after I had suffered through all the mind control that I could not even stand on my feet due to the fact that I could never recover the days I had lost. But now I am feeling a bit better and living a life that gives me value. Pastors, lawyers and volunteers who deal with Unification Church issues, former members who were able to leave the Church, and those who I have not met yet but know through their blogs – they all are the reason that I can now stand here as a free person. I hope many more people can be rescued from the Unification Church.

____________________________

1) There is a term used to describe a married couple consisting of a Korean man and a Japanese female church member. Sometimes the Korean men were not Unification Church members, or just pretended to be members in order to get a wife. Fees of between $2,000 and $10,000 have been paid by families to obtain wives for their sons from the Unification Church – which distributed flyers offering to find wives. The market for wives has been created by a gender imbalance in Korea of up to 1 million fewer women than men of marriageable age. There have been United Nations agency reports on the cultural difficulties that foreign wives of Korean men have faced, and the fees paid to the Unification Church are documented.

▲ Flyer distributed in Korea advertising the availability of wives

2) Video Center. A facility where the identity of the Unification Church is hidden and witnessing is done by showing videos. 

3) The title used by members to describe Leader Sun Myung Moon and his wife. 

4) Abbreviation for economic activities such as traveling (and living) in a microbus and fundraising. (MFT)

▲ McCol drink cans

5) McCol is a Korean company which makes barley based drinks. It is owned by the Unification Church.  

6) Donations are also to be made to pay for one’s sins (and to liberate ancestors). 

7) After mass marriages, Jucheja (subject partner) is the title brides are told to call their grooms/husbands. Women are called object partners.

8) The 124 couples mass marriage was the third held by the Unification Church, after the 36 and 72 couples. 

9) The family of the deceased are in a period of mourning for 49 days after the funeral. Once a week they visit the grave to place fresh flowers and to burn incense. On the 3rd, 7th and 49th days they have a short memorial service at the grave, led by the Shinto priest.

10) Those who leave the Unification Church. 

11) Miyuki Park was a Japanese member who was matched and married to an abusive unemployed alcoholic Korean man by the Unification Church. She asked for support from the local church but was not given any practical help. She had to work hard at low paid jobs to pay for all her husband’s medical bills. It was said that she was treated worse than their dog. In the end she murdered her husband by smothering him while he was sleeping. She is currently serving time in prison in Korea. See link to a Japanese magazine article about her.

_________________________________

Why did a Japanese Moon church member kill her Korean husband?

Suicide of Japanese ‘Moon money mule’ in Uruguay. Mother of three children

Japanese woman recruited and sold to Korean farmer

6,500 Japanese women missing from Moon mass weddings

Moon Church human trafficking is despicable

Japanese member, Ms. K, was forced to marry Korean man she did not like

Hiroko Yamasaki (Olympic athlete) joined and left the Moon church

A huge Moon Church scam in Japan is revealed

여성신자U씨의 체험담

통일교　여성 피해자의 체험담 （K씨）