#Attempting to change the subject or leave like trying to get a cat into a carrier

[tswwwit]

You’d think Bill would be the worst when it comes to being tender and soft, but I hc that Dipper always shrivels up into a confused and embarrassed mess every time

You're onto something! Bill revels in any attention, be it soft or sharp! Maybe he turns a little pink when Dipper gets squishy with him and tells a joke or two to defuse the situation - but hey! Attention!

He's also better at demonstrating affection in general, though he's new to the softer kind. (And thusly misses the mark on occasion. Good thing Dipper know he doesn't want to literally squish him in between both hands like a big-eyed hairy bug)

Dipper, meanwhile, is an awkward mess at giving affection, and squirms under too much focus. Doubly so when it's more positive than he thinks he deserves (often) and triply so when it's direct from his normally convoluted husband.

[kiwisandpearls]

getting used to things

Platonic Yandere! Batfamily x Gn! Young! Reader

summary: you’re trying to get used to living with a very obsessive family.

warnings: yandere/obsessive behavior, gaslighting (sort of? if you squint?), mentions of a reader just not being ok, general manipulation done by batfam, implied abuse, OOC batfamily, reader uses they/them pronouns, not canon complacent

You wanted to go home. You really just wanted to go home. But no matter how much you begged and pleaded to your “new family”, they would refuse you.

Or, even worse, they’d just smile down at you with that stupid patronizing smile of their’s that just screamed “I hear what you’re saying, but I’m not listening” before changing the subject, such as asking if you wanted Alfred the butler to make you your favorite food.

“You’re probably just hungry,” they’d say something to that effect.

Dick Richard would do that the most. Most of the time the others would just ignore you and pretend you didn’t say anything. And it’s not like they actually didn’t hear what you said; you know that they understand loud in clear because whenever you would change the subject they’d be all ears.

The only members of your new family that you could “tolerate” were the pets of the household. You liked Alfred the cat the most. Whenever he wasn’t around Damian he’d usually cuddle up to you. He was practically one of the only things keeping you from going insane due to this whole new situation.

That led you to now, where you are huddled up in your closet and rhythmically petting Alfred, who was purring loudly on your lap.

Your hand stilled, however, as you heard your bedroom door opening and two people walking in. You gulped and wrapped your arms around Alfred tightly, huddling deeper into the corner of the closet.

“Little birdie? You in here?” You heard Richard call. Please don’t let him find me, please don’t let him find me, please don’t let him find me, you begged to some unknown higher being, your grip on Alfred slowly tightening, which — somehow — didn’t make Alfred squirm or yowl or anything or the sorts. He just stared at you with those two beady yellow eyes of his.

Your prayers fell on deaf ears as you heard the closet door creaking open, inks of light bleeding into the closet.

“Grayson, I found them.”

Damian. That was Damian’s voice. You and him were around the same age so in theory you two should’ve gotten along well, but ironically enough you liked him the least. Even though he would pretend to be cold and distant, he was always watching you no matter where you went in the manor, and was always to the first to snitch on you to your dad Mr. Wayne whenever you even attempted to leave the manor without permission, the little rat.

You refused to look up and look at him, opting to bury your face deeper into Alfred’s black fur. You heard the sounds of footsteps approaching the closet before stopping a feet or so in front of you.

“Hi there, little birdie. You wanna come out of closet? None of us have seen you all day today, and it would be nice to spend some quality time with our new favorite sibling,” Richard sweetly said. Maybe that would work on someone else but the sweet tint in his voice just felt bitter to you. You wanted to scream and shout, tell them off for even daring to consider you “their new favorite sibling”, but what would it do? They either wouldn’t listen to you at best or at worst they’d just punish you.

So you did nothing. You didn’t look up, you didn’t move, you didn’t say anything.

You did nothing.

Richard let out a sigh, and while you couldn’t see what he was doing you could tell he was probably silently communicating with Damien. After a few more seconds of silence, Damian spoke.

“Alfred, come here,” Damian beckoned.

No. No no no no no.

You knew why he was calling Alfred over to him. They all knew that out of all of them you preferred Alfred, the cat of the household, the anything and anyone else who was living under this roof.

You shook your head and tried to keep Alfred in your arms put with a little mrow the cat innocently jumped out of your arms and to Damian’s side, who picked him up and looked down at you with a blank expression on his face.

“…p— please,” You croaked in a tiny voice, “give him back. Please.”

Richard looked smiled sympathetically, but that honestly just hurt even more, “we’ll let you have him if you decide to come out,” he bargained.

Your breath started to quicken and you feverishly shook your head.

“I…I don’ wanna…” You slurred, tears pricking your eyes and making it hard to see.

“Then we are not giving him to you. And you can stay in this closet as long as you would enjoy to,” Damian coldly said. Richard didn’t say anything, just continued to look down at you with pity, but you could tell he was thinking the same thing.

Your hands trembled as you hugged yourself, looking between the two brothers. Why. Why were they like this? Why did they have to be like this to you?

Richard and Damian didn’t react as you started to sob.

“Make your decision, little birdie.” Richard hauntingly said.

After a few more sobs, you wiped the remaining tears off your face and looked up at the two. Richard was crouching in front of you while Damian was standing next to him.

“…ok. I’ll come out.”

The next thing you knew, Richard and Damian had walked you out of your room to the living room* with Alfred the cat back in your arms. Thankfully only one other person was in there; you honestly didn’t know whether you’d be able to handle getting smothered at that moment.

Unfortunately however, the person who was in the living room, sitting on the couch, was Bruce Wayne: the patriarch of the entire Wayne family. While you personally didn’t really like any of the Wayne family members, in Mr. Wayne’s case it was a bit different. It wasn’t so much that you disliked him as you were terrified of him.

You could never truly understand what he was thinking, whenever he would look at you it was with this unreadable expression on his face. The only way you could truly see even a hint of what he was actually thinking was the occurrences where his mouth or eye would twitch. That usually only meant you had done something wrong.

At some point — you don’t know when — Richard and Damian had just left you there, standing awkwardly at the entrance of the living room*.

They planned this whole thing didn’t they? You thought to yourself with a sigh.

“(Y/n).” The deep, gravely voice of Mr. Wayne caused you to flinch and slightly tighten your grip on Alfred once more. You hesitantly looked up to meet his gaze, seeing he once again had an unreadable expression on his face.

“Y— yeah…?” You managed to squeak out. Mr. Wayne patted the empty space of the couch next to him.

“Come here.” Mr. Wayne said. Without even thinking about it you scampered your way onto the couch next to Mr. Wayne, trying your hardest to keep your body from furiously trembling.

You tensed even more than you already were when you felt Bruce put his hand on your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. He then moved his hand up to your head, occasionally combing his fingers through your hair.

This would almost be pretty comforting if it wasn’t for the predicament you were in.

“(Y/n), I know this sudden change of living situations must be new and scary for you. But please understand me, your new siblings, and Alfred are trying our hardest to help you through this,” Mr. Wayne looked down at you, and you could’ve sworn his expression had softened a tiny bit, “we’re doing this for you. Please let us; don’t shut us out.”

You bit your lip and looked back down. You could hear the faintest hint of a threat caked in his voice.

“…ok,” You mumbled. Mr. Wayne didn’t say anything but you did feel him pat your head before continuing to comb his fingers through your hair.

You were never getting out of here were you?

Later on Mr. Wayne arranges a bracelet making activity for all of the family to join in on that definitely wasn’t a secret way for him to make a bracelet for you that had a hidden tracker in it.

“Don’t take it off,” Mr. Wayne ominously said, a hint of a smile gracing his face (which was probably only there to keep you from really thinking about how weird that statement was.), “I will know.”

My first batfam x reader fic and it was a platonic yandere one lol

I really enjoyed making this one. I actually originally wanted to make a platonic yandere! batfam x reader fic purely because I was getting annoyed with how saturated that genre of fic writing was getting with neglected! reader fics and I thought it would be nice to go back to yandere fic writing routes and just have the batfamily be obsessed with the reader, no neglect required lol. While I did note in the fic that Dami and the reader were around the same age you could bend that a little if you personally don’t really vibe with that.

The idea of Bruce making the reader a bracelet that actually acts as a tracking device wasn’t my original idea and was taken from this fic I really enjoyed lol. Check it out when you have time, it’s actually pretty funny and sweet.

ALSO because I’m stupid and forgot to put this here, yes the narrator actively making sure they don’t personally refer to the batfam by any nicknames or personal names is intentional, do what you will with that lol

I really do want to expand on this idea, I a few ideas as to how they even kidnapped reader and why but I didn’t feel they made sense to put here

*I’m not really sure whether the “living room” the manor is actually called the living room or something else. Lmk if it’s not and I’ll change it

[yikesy]

I'm aware of how random this sounds

But because rrverse Apollo and rrverse Hermes have a tense and distant relationship, I was thinking about how differently they interact with their kids, and my thoughts spiralled until I thought of Luke.

I feel like an Apollo and Luke interaction would be so interesting. Luke probably wouldn't like him due how May got all messed up from trying to be his Oracle, but I feel like Apollo would be a kind uncle BECAUSE he knows what Luke's fate is (and probably disapproves about how Hermes treated the whole thing).

Like remember when Apollo once said that he would of adopted Frank if he could? I would like to think he would of wanted to adopt Luke too.

Your thoughts?

oh luke DOES NOT have a good impression of apollo. apart from the may thing let's not forget the event that kinda radicalized him was HALCYON GREEN. it's very interesting actually because he sees hermes as uncaring and neglectful but he sees apollo as actively malicious

so he thinks hermes is The Worst bc of his inaction but then comes apollo who he perceives as too involved, in the bad way (he's not, luke who by pure coincidence witnessed two apollo related atrocities before sixteen is an outlier and shouldn't be counted) Lots of wires crossed

but sadly I think bc of that his reaction to apollo would be very,, measured?? like, he thinks he's evil!! apollo would come down to see what's the deal with this kid everyone's making such a fuss about and luke would be very polite and amiable and and apollo would get hermes vibes™™ that he's just acting like that to hide he's scared and uncomfortable and then apollo would leave bc he doesn't want to keep subjecting him to that by forcing his presence. but he wouldn't know just How Much he was lying then and the depth of his Issues

but if they somehow got into a situation where luke gives up any attempt at preservation and GOES OFF at apollo (which he would) apollo would, well he would respond very calmly and pointedly take responsibility for everything which would confuse THE FUCK out of luke

and then he would go directly to hermes and tell him he needs to get down here now this shit is serious and hermes would be like "you know I can't why are you making it more painful than it already is" and apollo would be like "you're being an extremist and oddly stubborn about this" and they would go at it for a looong time.

apollo's opinion on luke's fate is that hermes may not be able to control or change it but what hermes can control is his own relationship with luke and the way he's hurting him right now, that if tragedy is going to happen anyway and you love the one it's heading to, then it's your duty to balance the scales and steal moments from between the lines of prophecy, so that happiness WAS there, even if it didn't change anything. that hermes is not only withdrawing his love but causing more misery to an already doomed person... he cannot stand for it

in the end apollo would end up routinely dragging hermes to see luke bc hermes does want to but he won't admit anything to apollo and he'd be sooo awkward and pathetic with luke and luke would stare at him with disdain and judgement. in the end apollo ends up acting like a kind of particularly forceful family therapist

so lmao from luke's perspective it would be like "this guy I don't like and I don't understand, for an unfathomable reason, took my dad being absent as a personal offense and now keeps dragging him here like some kind of cat who keeps bringing dead mouse and keeps dropping by to give me weekly updates and lessons on godly psychology and politics"

[legobiwan]

Post-Weirdmageddon Stan & Ford

Trying to sort out their characters to get a better grasp of what I'm doing for some writing projects and, yes, I'm subjecting you all to it.

Ford makes a big, showy deal about burning his Bill paraphernalia, to the point he comes across as a bit manic the day of the bonfire, engaging in loud, rapid-fire conversation with Mabel and Dipper. Stan has a sneaking suspicion his brother may have palmed one or two items before he and the kids carted the frankly disturbing number of triangle artifacts up from the basement. Later on, Ford makes a production out of both throwing his journals in the Bottomless Pit and shooting Bill’s psycho diary into an interdimensional rift. His brother is every bit as dramatic as Stan is, which is why Stan can’t help but think Ford is using these events to “prove” he’s past the thirty-year obsession he had with a malevolent piece of geometry homework. This instinct is only strengthened by the times Stan caught Ford creeping out from his lab the nights following these events, trailed by the odor of cheap gin. (Stan very much tries not to think about the fact their father drank gin, too).

Stan and Ford approach genuine emotional conversation like two skittish alley cats. Half the time Ford’s emotional response is caught up in cerebral traffic and what he does feel he can’t put a proper label on until days, sometimes weeks (sometimes years) later. Stan has difficulty shedding the Mr. Mystery mask, thirty years of shoving every hurt feeling behind the flick of a cane and a colorful tall tale now so instinctual Stan sometimes feels he can’t separate the two, like he’s lost track of the narrative of his own life. They’ve been able to power through one excruciating session (with the help of an ample amount of bourbon) in regards to the night Stan was kicked out, their watery apologies heartfelt, if a bit slurred. But Stan’s afraid to push his brother too far, still feeling as if he has the Sword of Damocles swaying above him, and that at any point Ford’s going to snap out of his self-imposed sentence of contrition and bring down the blade on Stan’s neck himself.

Because of this, Stan gives himself little landmarks, little goals and dates to hang on to, to convince himself this is all real and that the rug won’t be pulled out from under him. Two weeks without the kids and Ford not kicking him out of the Shack. One month before they’re supposed to leave for the Arctic with them surviving their first real argument. He figures if they can get through three months at sea without Ford kicking him off the boat and leaving for good, there’s a chance Ford’s change of heart might be permanent. He has the date circled in a calendar they have hanging in their shared quarters. Ford’s asked about the importance of it, if there was a birthday or anniversary he was ignorant of, or if perhaps it was one of those new superfluous holidays Mabel has told him about, like National Waffle Day. Stan pretends he can’t remember why he circled the date at all, which, of course, prompts all kinds of intensive questioning from his brother regarding his mental acuity and the memory gun. Stan laughs it off - probably something to do with the taxes I’ve never paid, he says with a long, Cheshire grin. 

Ford refuses to talk about Bill. He doesn’t even attempt plausible deniability when he grabs the steering wheel of the conversation and makes a squealing U-turn worthy of a bank heist escape if they stray too near Bill’s name. The times Stan has tried to initiate conversation, has waded near that radioactive topic, his brother has either outright ignored him or given Stan a look so cold it would probably register as a climate anomaly. It’s easier…and safer for both of them to avoid it. (This won't end well).

This isn’t to say they’re having a bad time prepping for their journey or on the boat. Overall, it’s the most relaxed Stan has felt in years (and best of all, the likelihood of the IRS having a maritime patrol is vanishingly small. Stan can’t help but think - with no small amount of smug satisfaction - that if Capone had taken to the sea, he might not have ended up in the federal clink). And despite the fact his brother can be a pretentious, argumentative, know-it-all pain in the ass, they’re getting along. Having fun. Even if Ford is an absolute cheater when it comes to card games.

[whumpinthepot]

Hamster Interactive Story

Chapter 14. Questions

Prev - Masterlist

Content: Food mention, being trapped, emeto mention (in passing), infection mention (in passing), bugs, selective mutism and description of having a breakdown over it. Pet trope, giant/tiny, angst. Let me know if I forgot any. 

Pov: Hamster

Poll winner: (People sent in questions) 

ART, WRITING, AND POLL UNDER THE CUT!!

Info dump chapter we love to see it :)) also If you have any requests for the ending send them to me because im planning to end the story soon! 

—

“I know you don’t talk but… Can you talk? I mean physically. What's stopping you? Were you trained not to, or took a vow of silence, or what?” That is the first question Soap asks you, which catches you by surprise as you finish eating the last piece of grape. 

You breathe in deep, getting lost in thought on how you could possibly answer him. It's not that you can’t physically talk if you need to but… Something always stops you when you try. Like a wall that you can’t climb over, blocking your voice and closing your throat up. It makes your chest hurt and your cheeks blaze hot. Even now when you think of vocalizing an answer your head spins and the urge to run away pulses in your legs. 

“Uhh, touchy subject or what?” Soap snaps you out of the panic and you’re startled by his voice. 

Or maybe it is that you can’t physically talk, seeing as how when you try, the urge to throw up is greater than the urge to say a simple word. You cover your mouth with a plump hand and shake your head vigorously. Maybe he’ll stop asking about it and you can happily stop trying to answer him. 

“Okay...” He sounds unimpressed, like he doesn’t believe you. 

In an attempt to change the subject you ask him a question next, choosing an equally invasive one at that. You point at his doll leg, and tilt your head. 

Soap sighs, leaning against the bars of his enclosure, but he does answer, “I was bit by a bug and it got infected. End of story. Sorry to disappoint, it wasn't a cat attack or anything fun like that.” 

Your eyes go wide, finding a new found fear of bugs. If any ended up in your cage you would simply pass away. Your body shivers the feelings out of you, and you point at his hair next. It's short now… 

Soap scoffs, “Your owner is to thank for that. Thanks a fucking lot, Ashley!” He yells in a random direction, which is funny because Ashley isn’t even here. You cover your smile with your hands, knowing he wasn’t trying to be humorous even if it came off that way. 

“Well? Got any more snacks?” He asks, “I’m stuck with these stupid dry pellets. Does she know that's not food? She’s trying to kill me in here.” 

You doubt that Ashley is trying to kill him, since she promised you that you could keep him as a new friend. You’ll happily give him more snacks, especially if that’ll make him happy! You smile and nod, leaving him again for several minutes to go back to your food dish to scavenge. 

You come back with an armful of finds, offering him a carrot slice, and some cheerios. You smile away at him as he gingerly takes them, finding him a lot less scary when he’s stuck in his enclosure. He can’t hurt you in there, and your dreams came true! You have a friend your own size now. 

Soap asks you another question while breaking the cheerio into more manageable pieces. “Is your name really Hamster? Like, that's the name you were born with? I somehow doubt that…” 

Your eyebrows crease, finding it odd how suspicious he is of you. His name is SOAP for heaven’s sake! You nod and shrug. Any name you had beforehand was just a placeholder. Hamster is your name now that's all that matters. You ask him the question back by pointing at him, hoping he’ll get the gist. 

“My name?” He asks. 

Oh good, he understood. 

“Of course it's my real name. Soap Scrub. I was named that because I slept in a soap dish as a baby. You wouldn’t know, but it’s a traditional way of naming in our culture. Or maybe you would- Hamster because you live in a hamster cage.” Now he thinks he’s humorous and smirks at you. 

You don’t get the joke, because it's true and makes sense. You just nod. It's cool learning about Tinies culture. You sit down criss-cross on the counter so you can listen to him more, resting your hands on your chin. 

“Where did you even come from?” Soap’s question has underlining skepticism, and he rattles out a few options for you to say yes or no to. “Were you captured like me?” 

You shake your head. Feeling kind of bad for him.

“Alright. I wouldn’t expect you to understand why I’m so pissed then,” he huffs. “Let's see. Born into the family? Ashley’s family I mean. Obviously.” 

You shake your head again. Trying to picture Ashley as a little kid. Would she have been a kid when you were? You don’t know how old anyone is so you guess it doesn’t really matter. 

“Bought at a… Pet store?” Soap lowers his voice, his shoulders squared with discomfort. 

You suppose that's a good enough answer, even if the truth is warped a bit. You nod. You came from Ashley’s work at a pet facility! 

“God…” Soap shifts uncomfortably and looks away from you for a minute. He seems drained from this question game. You’re not, however, and wave at him so you can ask him the same thing back. Pointing at him yet again with a hopeful smile. 

“Where did I come from?” His voice is strained and he brushes back his lack of hair. “Somewhere normal. A normal family, a normal life, something you wouldn’t understand.” 

He is trying to hurt your feelings. You just don’t understand why. You frown at him with a pouty lip. 

“Don’t give me that. You’re clearly not locked up, so why do you stay with her? Are you scared of her? Now that you can see you don’t have to be stuck with her. I could… We could leave… Together if you wanted. If you help me out of here.” 

He is trying to bait you, but his words hold a sort of desperation that struck a chord. You love Ashley. It would break her heart if you left her. You couldn’t. You shake your head in defiance and turn away from him. Maybe this conversation is over. You should go back to your cage and leave him alone. 

Just as you get up and start to walk away he yells after you, “Wait! Please-“ 

Then his voice lowers “I… I’m sorry. Don’t leave. I wanted to ask a few more questions… About tonight.” It’s clear in his tone that he’s scared. Maybe you’re not scared of Ashley, but he is. 

You give him another chance and walk back, waiting to hear him out. 

“Do you think she’ll make me do the photoshoot with you?” 

Ashley mentioned it before, so it makes sense that she would want to include him, but you’re not entirely sure if tonight is the night so you shrug. After all, the photoshoots slowed down when you had the cast on, and right now he’s covered in bandages. Still, you can’t promise anything. 

“Have you ever refused to do it?” His eyes are testing. Hopefully he isnt thinking of trying his hand at saying no to her. Ashley isn’t as forgiving with him… 

You have indeed refused to do them before, when you weren’t feeling well, but Ashley is always nice to you. You doubt the same results would show for Soap Scrub. 

Tentatively you nod your head. 

“And she let you?”

You nod your head. 

His brows crease. “Do you even like doing them? She’s playing with you like a doll…” 

You nod again after a pause at the strange retort. You love being a model! It’s so much fun, and beats being bored in your cage all day. 

He’s nervous and you don’t blame him. Though you’re unsure how to ease his nerves, so you sit with him and answer any questions you’re able to until Ashley comes home. Its then you go back to your cage so she’s not worried when she comes in. 

Ashley greets you and Soap when she comes into the kitchen, but otherwise leaves you alone until after dinner when its time for the photoshoot. 

Miraculously, Ashley doesn’t force soap into the shoot. She only has him watch so he can see what they’re like and what to expect. 

Its not for another week or two that she proposes the idea, and by then Soap has seemed to have accepted his position, from what you can tell. He’s less terrified over all, or hiding it better.

—

Gonna try clumping my taglist lmk if theres any issues please!

Tag list: @frogkingdom @verkja @whumpsday @octopus-reactivated @marvel-gt @rsitb-second-account @fallen-grace-smd @winged-wolf-s-collection-of-arts @kyp-the-spacekiwi @ilasknives @hollowgast1 @redd956 @zobodahobo @alittlewhump @blackrosesandwhump @angst-after-dark @sandygarnelle @coppercoyoti @kim-poce @mayisreallygay @smoll-stace @demondamage @vickytokio @whump-in-the-closet @shadowsnowdapple @whumpy-wyrms @re-whump @cypresscove @whumpninja @highlighterwhump @taters169 @justagiantpotato

[fireboxstudios]

Soooooo. I don't really know what compelled me to write this, but if it matters any i watched my favorite VN ytber play this like 20 times.

Subject to change.

And I've never done something like this before unless it's dead by daylight related.

These are just some general head cannons for "The Stranger" I don't have much to go off; personality wise or the things he can do, so a lot of this will be spit balled, if the Creator decides to make a follow-up game this will be changed.

Hopefully I'll have somethings correct I'll have some things wrong, but I really do enjoy this visual novel. Mandela catalog.

🔛🔝

Platonic/romantic. Warning, stalking, possible skin-walking, genitalia mentions and dark themes.

So usually i see people start with how you meet the guy but it's kinda straightforward?

You wake up to a creep, jiggling your door nob like you owe him money.

Getting up to investigate; you walk over to your door.

Every fiber of your being is screaming to do something, anything but entertaining this guy.

One creepy smile and a half later.

For all intensive purposes lets say the next time around you let him in. (dumbass)

He's actually quite friendly, he speaks like a teleprompter. Every word is carefully picked.

Carefully said, for his strength lies in his ability to articulate, manipulate and destroy.

That's how he speaks, proper English, no less no more.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The stranger likes to follow you around, understatement of the century.

He pretty much becomes part of you.

He's very awkward, unless prompted most times you'll just sit in silence.

If you do decide to engage with him, them, it?

He's very engaged, not like much else matters anyways...

Every 'how's your day' is met with the same question in response.

"how was your day?"

To be honest he doesn't understand the question very well, his eyes drifting to the side trying to understand why you'd wanna know something so trivial.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The longer you spend together the more you begin to notice small things, like how slowly his mannerisms start to mimic yours.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

He loves watching you play your favorite game, he may ask why you play or what's going on in the game.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

If you like horror games in particular, he seems to take a particular interest in those.

H̶e̶ l̶i̶k̶e̶s̶ s̶e̶e̶i̶n̶g̶ y̶o̶u̶ s̶c̶a̶r̶e̶d̶

He gazes blankly at the screen while you sweat bullets, every jump scare making you jump and him... Why is he staring so intensely at you?

As you continue to play he may gaze at the game for a little but it often always drifts back to you.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

He doesn't sleep, why would he?

So often you'll wake up to his black voids for eyes staring at you from the corner of your bed, maybe from an uncanny angle.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Loves to pick you up, and other shows of strength.

You may be sitting down when his eerily cold hands grab at your sides before picking you up.

Flashing those pearly whites that eerily lack depth.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Has ZERO lack of privacy, does what he does without shame.

*walks in on you changing*

"can you leave, please?"

"why?"

"Because... I'm changing?"

"oh..."

You both end up just standing there.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Hiding from him is nearly impossible. Somehow he always seems to know where you are? in the visual novel he can feel you there through the door, so maybe some type of like, cats whiskers situation?

He can tell how many fingers you're holding up even if you're behind him.

VERY fast, don't underestimate his speed.

Running is a futile attempt.

*you dash behind a wall your breathing lacking control, every breath coming out like a harsh stab at your airways.*

"who are we hiding from?"

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Knows where you work and will leave questionably sourced take-out. There's blood stains on the bag but don't mind that.

Wasn't it nice of him to bring you sustenance?

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

WILL kill for you, no questions asked.

On that topic, he can get very jealous.

What do you mean he has to share his favorite human with some meat bag?

you don't know exactly what he is and he intends to keep it that way.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

He'll disappear for an hour and come back like nothing happened. How'd he get back in?

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

He can mimic voices, just a hunch but he seems to take a lot of inspiration from the Mandela catalog, why not?

He loves to mimic voices, they range from a weak imitation of one of your favorite actors.

Or eerily accurate to a girl that went missing last week?

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Sometimes his skin will start to droop, just remind him and he'll fix it, otherwise you'll have a humanoid with a black void as a face.

He doesn't particularly notice; nor care.

Maybe he can shapeshift, in the VN he did mention that you've met before, but considering we seemingly don't know him from anywhere, he may shapeshift.

NSFW TOPICS PAST THIS POINT. ⚠️

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

No matter if you'd rather believe he made the body itself, or it stole it.

Depending on whether you prefer female anatomy or male or both, he has those.... Bits.

All in an attempt to replicate humans of course, they don't really function?

The shaft in particular is just the blackness that makes his innards just break through the skin of the penis, because it's too big.

It tries his/her/their best to replicate it to your liking as possible!

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

I must preference most of this is not canon, just speculation. I had a lot of fun writing this.

Maybe if people care for this I might write a yandere alphabet.

[ace-malarky]

Hello here is a lot of words and also some pictures by the delightful @tracle0 and a tiefling character creator and also a song that is very important to this story

and because I can't help myself, a further story about its creation lmao

So, picture this; a year ago, a young(er) Ace at their second social engagement of the day, not including work. BG3 has just been released on the xbox so they have (understandably) been abandoned by their flatmate, who fully forgot that there was a party she'd been invited to. It might actually have been after midnight but they hadn't slept yet so like. Definitely still the 9th They have decided that it is Late and they must leave this party bc there are no buses left and it's like a half hour walk back to their flat (no, the thought of a taxi didn't cross their mind. the thought of a taxi never crosses their mind) Enter @kat-writes-things, whose house party it is. She doesn't want Ace to leave but accepts (eventually) that they ought to. Laments that they no longer work together because of Circumstances. Suggests a Bit about them being high fantasy protags torn apart by the cruel world. Star Crossed Lovers are mentioned. So are swords and wings. For the bit, you understand, Ace says their goodbyes and kisses Kat's hand because it is, they announced earlier, the beginning of their slut era (it was like stupid hot in Kat's flat and I was down to my vest mkays). Kat, not to be outdone, does the same and makes Ace promise to get home safely and they'll try and see each other again soon. Ace, as is the way their brain works, starts to write a scene on the way home. Super safe <3 Unable to let the bit go, it uh. It Expands somewhat and here we are!!

I know a little bit more and have written barely any consecutive (or even finished tbh) scenes

transcript of the slides under the cut!

Everything is in comic sans, black text against white

Slide 1; Shapeshifter WIP by Aces Malarky. That story I've been inconsistently yelling about for a year. Happy one year anniversary babe!! You only got sadder in the interim. But also please I beg you get a name it's been a year. I'm taking suggestions /jk (... maybe). *Almost everything in here is subject to change I'm still working it out lmao there have been. Distractions. (it's me I'm Distractions)

Slide 2; World?

Please. Please we're making this up as we go along

Furry-lite bc sometimes. Having wings 'n' antlers 'n' shit is just. rad af you know?

Kinda-sorta-mybe high fantasy but like. There's technology also.

If it pleases me to have, it's there essentially! And what pleases me right now is handwavy fantasy nonsense bc actually we're about characters in this household and I have never thought a day in my life <3

Slide 3; Plot?

Star crossed friends-to-lovers!

Close friends that jokingly flirt on the whole "babe/oh best beloved" kinda thing. Everyone assumes/is taking bets on their relationship status

No one gets to collect tho ahahaha

There is a war looming! They're spies! They're torn apart by their own decisions!

Of course Syn volunteers for going undercover. Ain't no spy like a spy that can't be identified for shit

Halliel is Less than Impressed but my god is she going to throw herself into it just as much

So starts a fraught game of "in over our heads", "who are we without each other", "surrounded by people but so alone", and the real kicker "what (who) am I willing to sacrifice"

Side of Betrayal that perhaps could have been seen coming! They attempt to save each other!

Slide 4; Characters? Those I can do you!

[img one; a person in waistcoat and trousers with purple hair and antlers. They have their hands clasped in front of them and are smiling slightly]

This is Syn

- they/them

- Gender; mischief

- In it for the bit

- Early mornings, late nights, no coffee

- Has a cat named Trixie

[img two; a person in black trousers and shirt with suspenders. They have their hands on their hips and are scowling. They have scales across their face, red horns and a tail]

This is also Syn

- AKA Lance

- Gender; bodyguard

- Less bark, trying not to bite

- Serious business sucks

- Friends? Never heard of 'em

[img three; a person in a white tunic and trousers, a black embroidered scarf around their neck. They have yellow glasses covering their eyes, dog-like ears and a tail]

This? Yeah, that's Syn

- AKA Vale

- Gender; touch starved

- What's another fake identity on top of everything

- It's about the longing

- A Soft and Mournful Reprieve

Slide 5; Also, Halliel is here!

We love Halliel, she has a sword

And wings

And manages to put up with Syn, somehow

Coping by throwing herself into work and taking on more responsibility

Trying to keep a semblance of normalcy

Doesn't want to admit she's struggling just yet

[img; a picrew of a lady with peach coloured wings wearing a green shirt. She has auburn hair to her shoulders and glasses]

Slide 6; Other Characters; Verial Edition

Not-Work Friends!!

Conly - She/her - maned-wolf, leggy, Halliel's greatest enabler

Kit - he/him - fox-formed, owner of the betting pool

Peri - he/him - bear formed, needs them all to be a little less energetic, please

Hail - she/her - hyena, always up for the bit

Gil - she/her - monkey, most likely to believe whatever the fuck Syn is saying now

Work Friends!

Caria - she/her - cat formed, Syn's greatest enabler

Ketch - ze/zir - lizard form, makes like all the plans

Gry - he/him - sika deer, trans lad!! For some reason looks up to Syn

Maj - she/her - angelic, most likely to keep them all on task

Bora - he/him - cat formed, #1 cause of drama

Darraeth - they/them - dog formed, voice of reason but also a slight pushover

Most of them knew Halliel first! Maj & Caria are in both groups. One of them is a surprise bastard for later :3

No of course I don't have pictures, what do you take me for? None of them have names until two months ago

Slide 7; Other Characters; Sallen Edition

Don't - don't ask why they have pictures when the others don't

Bryn!

[img; an older lady with yellow curved horns and a yellow tail, with yellow scales across her forehead and cheekbones. She has white hair and is wearing a white blouse under a brown cardigan and has thin glasses]

- Dragontouched grandmother to the masses

- Communiy lynchpin

- Plays the piano

- Here to help, but your business is your own

Jaiel

[img; a man with short blonde hair, wearing a green shirt and a gold necklace. He has dark brown wings and looks unimpressed]

- Crown prince

- Bit of a dick, really

- Just like casually moneyed and careless

- Picks Lance for his bodyguard bc dragontouched are rare

Neryd

[img; a lady with a tight blonde bun and antlers. She's wearing green and gold armour and is glaring]

- Jaiel's other bodyguard

Kinda Intense

Like, really loyal to the crown

Pissy about Lance being hired, sees it as a comment on her ability

Probably there will be others but idk yet

Slide 8; Further Vibes

Featuring such hits as;

The inability to ask for help! Maybe don't spill all the beans but my god are you allowed to make friends while on the job

- Maybe not all the friends. Pls be wary of some of the new friends. Consider that other people might have the same job as you

Sexual awakening at sword point

Requited love but my god you could have chosen a better time to realise you are both fools <3

Sometimes, choices suck

- And that time is always

Identity Crisis! Is it an Ace Malarky WIP if there isn't at least one? We may never know

Slide 9; Wait when you say Star Crossed-

Yeah about that it uh. It does not end well for our leads lmao my bad

Choices have to be made and, well:

Syn has a self-sacrifice streak a mile wide

Halliel has a burn-the-world-down-for-my-people streak also a mile wide

Do you see the problem here

Aw gee I wonder which one will win out!!

Sldie 10; In Conclusion;

Fucking wild that I have a plot at all, actually

This is a story of two friends, everything else is incidental

I just really wanted shapeshifter shenanigans I did not intend for it to get sad but alas

The Suckages struck

Also I found this song about two months before this wip started and oh it is the whole thing actually

[img; the album cover for Cast the Bronze by Raynes, which features an insect with wings made out of shapes in various browns]

(Syn's edition. I should find a Halliel song also tbh)

[bitedownme]

Good morning. Various scenarios I’ve been rotating in my head.

---

“Have you ever thought about finding a way out of this place?” 

“You mean, like, escaping?”

“Yeah.”

There was just a kindling of something in the bottom of her throat. Not the typical anger Ire was used to. It was more… fidgety instead of overflowing. Still, she watched and waited as they seemed to think over the question. 

She could think of dozens of reasons why someone might be hesitant to try to escape. Fear being the biggest. Of what would be done to you if caught in the act, or later down the line.

Not knowing how to get home. If there was even anything left of home to get back to, or if it’d all been burned to the ground. 

… she needed to find a more permanent way to make her brain shut up. 

“I can’t say I’ve ever really thought of it,” the human answered quietly, honestly. “It’s not-- I mean I wouldn’t really know where to begin.”

A quiet pang of sympathy rang in Ire’s chest. Grateful for the honest, but also loathing that this was likely to be a trend. That she couldn’t poke and prod for information out of here because no one could mount the fear-

“I don’t want to leave anyways, so-”

“What?” the dragon interrupted

“Huh?” the human responded, in equal tone, before very quickly changing the subject into, “You know, outside of these halls, there’s this god that can distort your flesh-”

---

The shapechanger spoke like he was planning to eat everyone he spoke to one day; the mockery of an angel spoke like he knew the day. If one could ignore that fact, it was, er, interesting to see them interact. 

That was to say they went back and forth like they’ve been bitterly divorced since the dawn of time. 

“The entire reason you were handed command of the leviathans was for the march,” Moloch pressed.

Again? Their tones felt like this was a conversation that had happened many, many times before, and would happen many, many times again. “Not using them, or keeping them on the sides is a total waste of their potential and a double waste of the resources spent to get them there.”

“You have the right to be incorrect,” Jeser answered, perhaps too chipper for what was coming out of his teeth, “Yet as sorry as I am that you feel your lack of perspective is somehow greater than my lived experience, I cannot find the capacity to care for your idiocy today.”

She had a sneaking suspicion that the only reason Moloch didn’t tear out Jeser’s throat then and there was because of the behemoth of smoke and ash lingering in the doorway.

Yet with how the false angel twitched and puffed up, she doubted Goran would be able (or willing) to stop him if he decided to, say, casually attempt to drown his prince. 

There was tapping on the back of her hand. Her eyes met the gaze of the human, who was biting their lip to keep their mouth shut. But just from the mad glint in those eyes alone, there was a story that they were eager to share. 

Once the lovers were done getting divorced. Again. 

---

“That is a large predatory fish.”

“It’s Bob!”

Ire stared down at the red-eyed… thing in the pond. It stared back. Definitely a good chunk bigger than the normal predatory fish she had to worry about back home.

Maybe a little more than half a meter longer than the common, skittish piranhas that liked to follow her whenever she went to the mangroves. 

Closer in weight to a common shark, though. 

The half-dragon watched, confused and deeply amused, as the human flipped their legs into the pond, and the strange fish rolled off its side to go brush up against them. 

“Why?” she asked at length. 

“Why not?” was the immediate answer. 

A fair counter. She couldn’t conceive a way to keep something like a cat or a songbird within these halls without risking it being eaten. At least the fish had enough teeth and could move fast enough to not be worth the effort. 

“What does it eat?”

“Oh, anything that doesn’t take a chunk out of him first, really.”

Apparently that was literal. 

In the wild, Bob’s cousins preferred shellfish and other, smaller, sweeter fish. Bob however, ate anything and everything: small mammals, small to medium amphibians and reptiles, the occasional bird. Most of it was straps from the kitchen, or from the parts of a hunt that weren’t ideal: bones, pieces of cartilage, tendons, skin. The occasional organ and the like.

“Okay, no, wait. He went out, caught a fish, you asked if you could keep it, and he relented? Do I have that right?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure the only reason I was allowed to keep him was because I insulted Jeser.”

“That- is that seriously all it’d take?”

---

It was loud. 

Monsoon season meant bursts of on and off raining ending in glorious blooms where Ire was from. In this new place, monsoon season apparently meant massive localized flooding and winds strong enough to put hurricanes back home to shame. 

Even in the depths of the palace, those winds managed to find every crack and gap in the stone walls and sent whistling channels throughout every hall. Thunder seemed to shake a different room every half minute.

All the same, no one reacted. Not even those who were rotating stations outside, at the mercy of the sky, seemed to react. Save for an air of mild inconvenience for the lightning strikes. 

“You are so unadorned, my beloved shrike,” the Scarlet King hummed.

What Ire hoped was mostly to himself. Because she certainly had no idea what he wanted her to say in response to that.

His voice was one of the few sounds that could carry over the sounds of the storms outside. In a way, she was grateful for that: it meant that she could hide from anyone else during one of these storms. 

In a way, it only made the coil around her chest grow all the more tight. Was there any hiding from him in his own halls? Or would it be a matter of outlasting him?

She could probably do the later. Maybe. Hopefully? A lot of it depended on how much information she could gather, and how long it’d take to gather all she’d need. Couldn’t all be in one place, either, or it’d draw questions-

A claw traced up the back of her neck, and suddenly she was very aware of every breath she was taking. 

“I really must start finding things to decorate you with.” 

Because the fine silks and cottons weren’t enough. Because for some reason, despite Ire being what could only be described as a brat for the first stint, he actually was willing to accommodate her in a great manner of things. More than she had been expecting, given what little she did know about the ruthless, half-mad god-king from the dark.

Quietly, and only to herself, would she admit that the “generosity” made her very, very afraid. Because she didn’t know what he wanted in turn.

---

-🍁

A shrike is a bird that impales its prey on branches and thorns

Also I think I might've accidentally given your half-dragon my texture issues more than once in here?? oops lol

oooh is the first one quoting my silly quote I made, because if yes that was clever. Who the hell does MC mentioned though. Following up on that - Which deities they know in general in this scenario wtf

The only entertainment Ire has apart from fighting someone in here is by watching others fight apparently. Did we really just call Jeser and Moloch a divorced couple 😭

OMFG IRE MEETS BOB THE FISH

You gave Ire what I knew she would have anyway (considering her inability to eat some foods which is based on both taste and texture + her outfit is constantly made of somewhat similar and familiar materials). Also that's such an interesting petname I actually like it O_o

[running-on-coffee-and-anxiety]

An Orphan's Journal, Entry 10

Monitoring increased for Samuel Elliason due to unusual activity. Cat Nap’s handler reported odd behavior, no deployment of Red Smoke when interacting with the subject and seems to potentially retain full or partial memories of prior friendship. Attempts to speak despite the broken voicebox have been reported. Concern of Experiment-1188 potentially losing conditioning are expressed but unlikely.

December 18, 1990

They said Christmas is in a week, a week is seven days and Christmas is December 25, and 25 minus 7 is 18, so today is December 18. I’ve gotten a lot better with words and numbers this year, so that is really nice. Things are okay I guess. Marie has been really jumpy since Cat Nap came to meet everyone, scared of loud noises and always looking around the whole room and sitting in the back of every class. I don’t understand what she seemed scared of, but she’s still really nice to me and she does not look really bothered by it, so I guess it’s okay. She isn’t acting like Theo did so she has to be okay. Maybe it’s a part of growing up? Miss Stella said that Marie was going to turn thirteen next year. She’s a big kid now. I hope she doesn’t leave, I don’t wanna be alone again.

Cat Nap sometimes comes out at night, but I don’t think I’m supposed to know. On nights when I can’t fall asleep, sometimes I look out my window and stare at the fake moonlight in Playcare and watch how all the colors look different in the dark. It doesn’t make me feel better or feel sleepy, but I don’t feel angry when I look outside. I’ve been feeling angry a lot more, but I don’t know why. I have not told the adults, I think they forgot over time. I think it’s been a lot of months since Theo died, the doctors stopped coming to make sure I was okay after a while. I have no clue when the last time Doctor Kovach read my writing.

I got distracted. That’s a bad thing when writing, Miss Delight says so. The Miss Delight that teaches English? I forgot they are all sisters and have the same last name. I’m gonna call her ‘Miss De-write’. But Cat Nap sometimes comes out at night. It looks like he lives in the Playhouse, but I never see him during the day after the first visit so I don’t know. He’s very stretchy, if I’m awake and looking out the window long after I’m supposed to be asleep, then he leaves the Playhouse and most of the time he sees me and walks over to stretch up and rest his head on my window. We can’t open the windows, so I just put my hand on th glass and watch and listen. They said Cat Nap has a broken voice, but I think he’s trying to talk. He starts wheezing sometimes, but the wheezing changes like he’s trying to say words.

I started trying to talk again too. Only with Cat Nap. I can’t make words yet, but I’m making sound, like Cat Nap. Maybe we can learn to talk again together. Cat Nap keeps coming to me. It reminds me of every time I went to Theo before. Is Cat Nap treating me like a good friend? Family? Theo was family, he promised to try and get us adopted together. I don’t know if I want a family anymore, but I like Cat Nap. Maybe when I can talk again I can read to Cat Nap. I think he’d like that a lot.

But I’m not stupid. I know the adults like to think they know everything because they are all older than us, but they don’t. I don’t know about the other kids, but I see things I think are supposed to be kept secret. I was hungry and wanted to get a snack, so I left my room, but I saw Cat Nap go to another kid’s room and I got curious. I don’t know Paige well, but maybe if Cat Nap wanted to play I could play with them. Maybe I could make a new friend playmate. Not a friend, I don’t think I want anymore friends. But when I looked in the room, Cat Nap breathed something that looked like smoke but was bright red in his face and Paige fell back on his bed and was asleep but his face was all scrunched up. I got a smell, it was like the Poppy doll’s hair, but I felt sick and dizzy after and went back to my room. I felt really bad and I had a nightmare when I finally fell asleep that night, though it was all fuzzy and I don’t remember what it was about, just that I was scared.

I wonder if that’s why Marie has been so jumpy? I don’t wanna think about it. Cat Nap probably just wants to help us sleep, the nightmare can’t have been caused by him.

But why does he never put me to sleep, then?

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[wolfprincesszola]

Echoes of 50 Chapter 3

As always, check the TWs and CWs in the masterlist. Platonic Analogical has to be one of my favorite things to write. Genuinely, platonic love in general is my absolute baby. Enjoy <3. ——————– Now Playing: Preventative Medicine by Ananya Tare

<Masterlist>

<Previous Chapter> <Next Chapter> ——————–

“L, open up!”

Logan paid no attention to the man pounding at the door for the fifth time in five minutes.

“I know you’re in there! I’m going to break your door down if you don’t open up.”

“For the fifth time, Virgil, there is a cat on my lap.” Logan scowled, petting Luna’s head as he scrolled down on the research he was assisting in. “I am not getting up just to open the door for you.”

“Damn you, Luna.”

“I heard that, Virge! I will not be having you desecrating my cat’s image.”

“Fine. You leave me no choice.” Virgil’s voice groaned through the door as the door swung open, an annoyed Virgil leaning against the front door.

“I’ll send you the invoice for my door.” Logan replied, sipping on the tea he had prepared moments before sitting down and becoming trapped by his Bombay cat.

“Oh, fuck off. I just picked the lock. Your door is completely fine.” Virgil rolled his eyes as he came in with two bags of pick-up. “I brought Chinese.”

“Must I stress the importance of eating healthy?” Logan raised an eyebrow as he gathered his papers to make way for the food on the coffee table.

“Must I stress?” Virgil raised an eyebrow in response before sitting down next to Logan. He placed the bags of Chinese takeout on the coffee table before going to scratch Luna’s head. Almost immediately, Luna purred and transferred from Logan’s lap onto Virgil’s.

“Traitor.” Logan scowled at his cat as he went to pack his research up and grab two plates for him and his friend.

“Luna just likes me better.” Virgil smirked as Logan started to grab his food, “Also, for someone who’s really into a strict schedule, you sure are researching late at night without food to energize you.” “You texted me you were coming over with food. I took that as a sign that I did not need to cook dinner.” Logan stretched, knowing that he had been sitting for way longer than he had anticipated, having been enveloped in his work and also having been stuck by his cat on his lap.

“And here I thought Logan Sanders was a person who never cared about what other people were doing.” Virgil smirked.

“Unfortunately for me, having friends was necessary in the brutal battlefield we called high school. And unfortunately for me, you stuck around after that point.”

Logan had met Virgil Grey, his best friend, in his sophomore year of high school. Knowing everyone’s thoughts since birth meant that any fake attempts at trying to be friends with Logan were dismissed. Logan hated fake kindness and false sympathy. High school was filled with fake kindness and false sympathy reeking from the different teenagers who just wanted nothing more but leaked secrets or homework help. It got worse when he had come out as gay to the entire school, causing people to flock over to ask if he wanted to be their gay best friend. It was awful. There were a few genuine teens that he befriended, but they were few and far in-between. Emilie Picani, Remy Somnus, and Virgil Grey. After high school, Logan really only stayed in contact with Virgil and to the man’s reluctance, Virgil’s presence from time to time was appreciated. Logan sometimes got so tangled in his work that he forgot to eat and Virgil always knew when to come by to help Logan out. To his reluctance, Logan could call Virgil a friend…even a best friend.

“Aw, L. I know you love me.” Virgil gave a grin as he grabbed some food to eat with one hand while still petting Luna with the other hand.

Logan rolled his eyes as he grabbed a Crofters jam inside the fridge to put some into his fried rice. “I don’t believe I ever said that.”

“Dude, ew. That’s so gross. You have an addiction.” Virgil made a face, changing the subject as he stared at Logan eating his jam-covered rice, “You need to get some help.”

“Sue me.” Logan deadpanned as he continued to take bites into his food.

“What are you even working on? The last time I talked to you, you said you were stuck with no evidence to help you whatsoever.” Virgil raised an eyebrow as he reached for the stack of papers.

Logan slapped Virgil’s hand away, “That’s pristine evidence. There is no way I will let you examine it while you are still eating.”

“Jeez, touchy.” Virgil grumbled, “You usually aren’t like this with evidence.”

“This evidence is new. I need to have sufficient time to examine the paperwork before you soil it.”

“Stuck-up prick.”

“I heard that, Virge.” Logan rolled his eyes as he finished his food before washing his hands and returning back to his research.

“What’s it even about?”

“There’s something special about this evidence. Not only is this new information I would’ve never stumbled upon before because I had never thought about using the dark web, but also there may finally be the biggest lead in all of history. What this evidence may lead to is a human account of what is happening in all the government buildings.”

“Hold on. How do you know this evidence is valid? Where’d you get these things from?” Virgil raised an eyebrow as he looked over Logan’s shoulder.

“A reliable source. At least someone who thinks they are reliable. They snuck into the government buildings for this.” Logan cleared his throat, not wanting to say more. He knew that Virgil would get even more upset to find out that a reliable source came directly from his CEO because it seemed more of a risk than a reliable source.

“Alright, fine. I’ll trust it.” Virgil replied warily before reading the file Logan was stuck on, “Patient 506174746F6E? That’s a long name. How many patients would there be that would need that long of a name?”

“It says the patient was often called Patient 50 for short. It seems that Patient 50 may have been one of the key items in defeating the Medeis, but it ended up being a failed experiment. I have looked at the other evidence I was given. Materials the government is purchasing, the employment rates of the Impotens over the employment rates of the Medeis, funding for organizations determined to take any advantage the Medeis have in fear that they will rise up against the Impotens. None of which directly help me too much, but if I can get into contact with Patient 50, I could get an account of what their true goal is, deduce what the materials they’re purchasing are used for, and brainstorm about ways to stop it from happening.”

“Great. So how are you going to do that?” Virgil raised an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?”

“Get to Patient 50? You don’t even have more than a picture of their back that you can go off of.” Virgil pointed to the picture of a person in a hospital gown.

From the figure, Logan could see it was a man with brown hair and a taller figure, but there was nothing else he could go off of. At least, except for some black lettering on the man’s neck. The middle trapezius, to be specific.

“But there is a discerning feature of this person.” Logan replied, pointing to the text on the man’s neck. “If I took a picture of the photo on my phone, I could possibly zoom in and enhance the letters to spell something out.”

“No need. I have 20/20 eyesight.” Virgil smirked as he put his food that he still hadn’t finished down. Bringing the photo closer to his eyes, Virgil began to read out the text. Logan fumbled to grab a pen, scribbling down exactly what Virgil said on his arm.

“Five, zero, six, one, seven, four, seven, four, six, f as in Frida Khalo, six, e as in Evan Edinger.”

“506174746F6E.” Logan read back before scrambling to the patient's name, repeating the same values. “Patient 50 has their name tattooed on their middle trapezius.”

“Oh, that’s kinda fucked up.” Virgil frowned as he gave Logan the papers back before going back to smothering Luna with cuddles and finishing the rest of his food.

“But it’s somewhere. Now…I just have to figure out what 506174746F6E is and what the importance they have to the government.”

“Hm, good luck.” Virgil remarked, “I will not be helping you in that escapade.”

Logan looked at Virgil with a sense of irritation. He knew that Virgil didn’t care as much as Logan did about this research, but sometimes, Logan would wish Virgil would pretend to care. At least then, Logan could pretend to ignore Virgil’s complaining thoughts.

“Then, can you at least keep your mouth shut so I can focus on my research?” Logan asked as he turned back towards the photo. He was one step closer, but it felt as if he had taken fifteen steps back from the original goal. He frowned as he looked at the bigger picture.

“How do you know you can even interrogate the patient?”

“It says he managed to escape the facility a while ago and that he has been escaping the sights of the guards in charge of looking for him. There is no doubt he is still in the city considering the technology the government has around this city. The facility probably would have had the patient chipped even before they were testing whatever they were testing on him. Now, the public can rely on RFID circuits which are too weak for anything this dangerous and big-scale. It aligns with the amount of electricity and computer boards that were created for a couple of years. Maybe they found a stronger satellite field or perhaps they figured out the idea of blood chemistry. Either way, there is nothing that surrounds this city and in a big open area, it would make sense that the patient would be undetectable within the city, but their location could be broadcasted within seconds of leaving.” Logan lit up at the idea.

Working at a technology company meant that he got to work with pieces of tech all the time. Understanding how everything came together and actually having a moment to apply his knowledge into his research was possibly Logan’s dream come true. If the government was using advanced pieces of technology that even Logan was not familiar with, it would mean disaster and also a new expansion in how the city could be working.

“I got lost when RFID circuits were mentioned.”

“English, L?” Virgil raised an eyebrow, confusion written all over his face.

“The patient is still within the city because the tracker they implanted into the patient will only start marking their specific address in a big open area. Big open area surrounds the city, so the patient’s only choice–if they do not want to be captured once more–is to stay in the shadows of the city and to stay out of sight from all the different guards. At least until they find a way to remove the tracker and I doubt the patient has even taken a look at how to remove the tracker within a few years of escaping the city. They would’ve been busy trying to make a life of themself in the city.”

“Doesn’t answer how you’re supposed to find them. There are over 3.5 million people in this city.”

“That is the Herculean task.” Logan sighed, “I will get back to you about that.”

“Well, either way, you shouldn’t stay here cooped up all of tomorrow.”

“Why not? It’s a Saturday. I have no work, no overtime, and all the free time. I could and should spend most of it researching instead of just standing around.”

“Come with me down to the coffee shop. It’ll be good to get some Vitamin D. For both of us.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, “What?”

“Come on. You need a break anyways.”

Logan groaned, knowing that Virgil was correct in some sense. “Fine.”

Staring at the numbers, Logan knew that there was someone out there that he needed to go and find. They would be the key to his research and the solution to his life goal. He was sure of it.

[restless-witch]

varieties of exile - geraskier in drabbles - part 11

hey there friends I am looking for a little bit of feedback: I'm writing a part that's like... pretty explicitly gore-y and I think I need some help figuring out how it needs to be tagged

also maybe it's not so gore-y and I'm just a weenie??? I don't know, I could use a little help here but TL;DR someone's been disemboweled and their companions are touching their flesh and there's conversation of assisted suicide

Below the cut is part of the scene and also a disembowelment fact

Witcher 3 + Netflix / This part is rated E for swearing, character injury (specifically Disembowelment/evisceration), and suicide ideation / Chapter incomplete

Disembowelment fact: there's at least a few documented cases of disemboweled people living for a few hours- so there's a bit of discussion about ending things early. . Takes place the weekend of the two kidnappings, which keen readers will know is the upcoming chapter. Chronologically 1-2 months after the mountain break up. This is a really rough first draft of this part so it is subject to some changes before it gets published

.

Things seemed hazy again before they mashed together into a strange clarity. He'd been dimly aware of Aiden clambering behind him and then suddenly he could actually focus on the lovely round face above him. His head was gently nudged up and put onto Aiden's lap. Aiden laid his hands into Jaskier's hair and softly kneaded his knuckles against his scalp.

Aiden's eyes were deliberately trained on his own. Jaskier's gaze wandered and he vacantly watched Axel and another Cat gently lift him and felt them carefully cutting the rope around his wrists. He wondered how many of the clowder were there, silently watching, he thought he'd seen a dozen but the Cats took great pains to remain unseen.

"You're free now," Aiden's voice was thick, "we freed you, little bird."

Jaskier found his limbs felt heavy but clumsily managed to touch his fingers to Aiden's wrist.

Then he felt Axel reaching over and around him and something gently placed on him: Jaskier found the strength to tilt his head down and he watched as Axel diligently put Jaskier's entrails back into his abdomen. 

It was a familiar site, though he was normally the one stuffing the insides back into Geralt. The pain was distant- sharp the way an off-key singer is in another room- he remembered somewhere in university that shock can cause sensation to distort or leave the body and mind.

That all seemed far away now, watching Axel attempting to press his mottled intestines back in and pull the flesh back to cover them again. Axel was unbothered by the blood that had started to clot under his nails, remaining fastidious around entrails as only one who'd put them back a dozen times could be.

"I was right birdy," Axel said, gently tapping close to Jaskier's rib cage, "you have a strong liver. A lucky one." He tenderly reached back in to fix the curve of viscera.

"Stop it," Aiden snapped, then his voice softened, "Axel, you don't have to do that."

"We can't close him if they're poking out," Axel said, gently pulling Jaskier's shirt open more to try and get his flesh to meet again.

The other cat tipped Jaskier's face back up to look at Aiden's- on the edge of his vision he could make out the rest of the clowder stalking closer, their eyes trained on him.

Chrysoberyl, Jaskier remembered.

The Cats' eyes were the many colors of Chrysoberyl.

He was glad he remembered that now.

"He won't close up," Gaetan said, Jaskier could hear him close.

"Jaskier, I will be honest with you," Aiden's voice was thick but firm, "we can take you back to the inn but it will be long and it will be painful. You do not need to be brave, Jaskier, I promise," his eyes closed and his fingers fisted Jaskier's hair before he continued, "We will make it very quick."

Jaskier ignored Aiden.

"Thank you, Axel," Jaskier found the words rolling out before he could think them and Aiden huffed a wet laugh, "I always wanted to die pretty," they let him dip his head back down again and Jaskier felt a ring of affection for all the Cats that had silently coiled around him. Uncaring of the sticky blood, Cedric boldly rested his head on Jaskier's thigh. He could hear the Cats purring- he remembered it was a self-soothing response- and tried to imagine he could feel the rumbling. 

The pain had started to arrive.

"We won't let you die on your lonesome, birdy," Cedric murmured into his leg, Jaskier could feel him claw a tighter grip on his thigh.

[arcanepactguile]

𝐔𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐒

ᴛᴏᴘ-ꜱʜᴇʟꜰ-ᴛᴇɴᴅᴇʀ ᴀꜱᴋᴇᴅ - "ʜᴇᴀʀᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇɴᴛ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴀɴ…ᴜᴅᴅᴇʀʟʏ ʀɪᴅɪᴄᴜʟᴏᴜꜱ ᴍᴇᴛᴀᴍᴏʀᴘʜᴏꜱɪꜱ,” ꜱʜᴇʟᴠᴇᴅ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴅ.

𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐄

“Shut your trap,” came the scathing retort, incredulous that one of his closest confidantes not only had heard about the abrupt transformation, but he was actually making fun of him. The gambler usually held back his sarcastic wit in the likelihood he would get more than a simple chastisement; Alastor couldn't fathom why the cat decided making light of the mortifying transition during his Rut was worth another one of his nine lives.

After secluding himself in his personal quarters, the Radio Demon had habitually forgotten to lock the bathroom door. Husk had just waltzed right on in his Master trying his best not to make a spectacle of himself.

Alastor certainly sounded breathless. Light thrown from the open doorway, the shadow of the demon's hunched form sitting on the edge of the bathtub cast on the floor. It changed as Alastor reached forward to quietly push it further open before gingerly sitting back down on the tub’s rim. It wasn't the most comfortable of perches, but as it was a more modern 1940s in-floor tub with a flat wall skirting the basin for seating, Alastor made do.

The deer demon's face was flushed pink in embarrassment, his eyes rimmed red. Yes, he had been crying. Out of frustration, most likely, as well as shame. Levelling his hard stare at his amused lover, Alastor gestured to the subject of investigation spilling out of his unbuckled pants with a wry, nervous smile.

Pointing out the spongy bag of coral pink flesh engorged in his lap, the twin udders shone wet under the ceiling fixture’s single light. The two teats were noticeably full, his thumb and forefinger curled around the right bloated nipple in a failed attempt to express milk himself. Nothing had happened besides working himself further into a right state. The other teat jutted out, weeping a dollop of heavy cream, milk soaked into the crotch and left pants leg of his trousers — presently dragged halfway down his mid-thighs. His belt lay open, underwear halfheartedly shoved down to ease the tension it had previously been squeezing his new udders.

The Radio Demon's cock at full mast, it didn't take a genius to reach the conclusion that this was erotic for him.

Alastor had been dreading approaching his curious pet’s assistance for this seasonal malediction.

Speaking grimly, his tone dripping with resignation — Alastor popped the question. Absently, Alastor had a frantic thought that Husk might have thought the Overlord had been trying to suck himself off. Ridiculous but it was of course titillating. Husker had a filthy mind, hanging around the spider too much.

“Would you mind lending a hand, Husker? It… it doesn't work if I do it.”

𝐓𝐎𝐏 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐅 𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑

Hearing about Alastor’s predicament had been one thing, but witnessing the altered state of his genitalia was another matter entirely. What had sounded absolutely comical in passing conversation had Husk choking on his laughter in seconds. How in the seven rings could Alastor make the exchange of testicles for udders so goddamn sexy?

The bartender considered excusing himself, both to alleviate Alastor’s embarrassment as well as calm the reaction in his own trousers. However, there was something so irresistible about the proud and powerful Radio Demon admitting to requiring help. To needing Husk. Even if the scene hadn’t been so alluring, there was no way the feline could leave his keeper there, wanting and desperate for relief. With a sigh, Husk entered the bathroom, shutting and locking the door to ensure further disruption was avoided.

“Lemme take a look,” he soothed, kneeling on the floor behind Alastor and wrapping his arms around his waist. The smell of the buck’s arousal had been potent from the doorway, but fuck, up close, it was almost as intoxicating as booze he was forced to serve for patrons. Mixed with the sweet aroma cream leaking from the pair of udders, Husk was left practically drooling from secondhand lust. A forced shake of his head redirected his priorities. He was here to help Alastor, not fall prey to the call of rut.

“I’m gonna touch ‘em, ‘kay?” Husk offered fair warning, rubbing his paws comfortingly along his lover’s inner thighs. When he was certain Alastor had steeled himself for the intimate action, the cat’s claws slid down to grope the slippery teats. Husk had to clamp his jaw to keep from making any sort of noise to indicate how pleasant they were to fondle. His paws were soaked with milk in seconds as he began to massage to aching bulges.

“Just relax for me. We’ve gotta release that pressure…” After a moment of testing their weight, Husk pinched at each nipple, and pressed his forehead to Alastor’s back. Even out of sight, the feel of the lactating protrusions alone was stirring Husk’s own arousal. If he aided his keeper quickly enough, the bartender would be able to slip away to his own room in order to deal with his own need…

𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐄

Quiet, Alastor didn't reply to the affirmation. The lead up to requiring assistance had compounded the distraught overlord's swirling emotions, uncertain if Husk was taking this seriously, seeing it was a… a situation that put the buck in dire straits.

Licking his lips nervously, putting a little more effort into suppressing another barbed comeback, Alastor's body acknowledged the pair of warm arms encircling his malnourished waist, recognising out of past sensual encounters the covertly dominant streak he could feel radiate from his pet’s control. A hushed inhale made Alastor's ribs pronounced as he suddenly gasped, his back straightened to dislodge his boyfriend's muzzle from shock — the rub down sent a wave of sparks tickling his taut skin, gooseflesh arcing under Husk’s soft strokes, yet the blind groping stirred something else much more erotic…

Twin splurts of milk ejected instantaneously, the hot liquid soaking the cat’s paws. The soft fur was an entirely new experience — everything was, obviously, yet he hadn't anticipated how the combined textures soft cat’s fur, the supple pawpads, and the pricking of those semi-sheathed claws awakened Alastor's oxytocin. The hormones rushed through his system, filling his belly and head all at once the full strength of feel-good endorphins, the thrumming alcoholic buzz behind his eyes instilling the most saturated concentration of tranquillity the Radio Demon's EVER had the fortune to enjoy… he hadn't known a second person was needed to let his milk down; expressing it himself all afternoon had only just rubbed his swollen teats raw, the milk trapped behind the sphincters but refusing to eject.

He'd have corralled Husk’s expert farmhands sooner.

“HUSKER—!”

Alastor's startled outburst surprised even himself — folding forward at the waist, spreading his thighs on instinct, Alastor's bloated udders throbbing against Husk’s wrists, the teats abruptly spasmed — the springy tubes reacted to the hard pinch, inflating momentarily to pump a thick stream of milk, the pressure finally kickstarted.

Moaning low, his nauseous shudders undulating his thighs and heavy organ taking the brunt of the aroused shiver direct to Husk.

Alastor had the strange impulse to see this dilemma through, and then some. It wasn't like him to submit to a Top so readily, especially in the eleventh hour... Chewing the inside of his cheek, unaware it was suspiciously similarly to a livestock’s hormonal and digestion habit, Alastor squirmed uncomfortably in Husker's embrace; his udders still remained full.

The feeling he had to go bone dry was nibbling at the fraying thoughts threatening to prompt the Radio Demon to do something stupid like injure himself after sending Husk on his way, their intimacy now a state secret.

Groaning in resignation, Alastor more or less harshly shrugged Husk’s hands away, wincing when the leaking teats rekindled the oppressive throbs without the cat’s authoritative support. Husk would have felt the burning teats move post-pinch — the thick appendages inflating and narrowing to express the first gush. The milk had travelled far, splattering the opposite wall of the tub. Desperate times called for… the Radio Demon couldn't even sit still anymore, his breathing quickened to shallow huffs, his Rutaccelerating.

Pivoting on his ass, the buck pushed off Husk to scoot back into the bathtub itself — digitigrade legs hanging over the front, his shoeheels loose against the tub’s front wall, knees hooked ontop. Speedily rucking his waistband higher up his thighs and calves, the pulsing udders swelled to fit snugly between his clenched thighs, the teats beading more cream. Bent double in the diaper position, his exposed lap and ass pushed forward to plant firmly on the tub’s edge where he had been sitting, the buck’s arousal heightened.

Ears pinned, his expression plaintive, Alastor stretched his arms awkwardly on the back wall supporting him, reinforced by his desperate idea to relieve the full organ; fresh milk in the meanwhile had welled up from his crude position, white froth bubbling forth.

“PLEASE… Take it all. Drink. Squeeze. Suck. Just get it done..."

𝐓𝐎𝐏 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐅 𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑

Alastor’s every whimpering wriggle had Husk fully invested in the task at hand. He wouldn’t dare confess it, lest these privileges be revoked, but the bartender was addicted to every aspect of his keeper’s transformation: the supple, breast-like udders, Alastor’s heightened sensitivity, and the tantalizing sense of power this experience afforded him. The Radio Demon wasn’t one to succumb to just anyone’sauthority - Husk had earned the right to reduce the other man to his desperate submissive.

The sensation of warm milk soaking his kneading paws was one that unlocked some deep, primal urge in Husk. His own body gave a tremble, instinctively drawing Alastor closer while the stag cried his name and wailed in pleasure. When his lover put distance between them, Husk was momentarily concerned he’d breached a boundary. It wasn’t until Alastor was lying unceremoniously in the tub with his legs spread wide that the bartender gathered the extent of the deer’s need.

“Al…” the feline breathed, pupils expanding in unison with the milk-logged udders. There was a split second of lucidity where Husk questioned the repercussions of pushing his assistance further, but it was short lived. Alastor’s desperate command flipped a switch in his partner that Husk wasn’t even aware of until that moment. Without a second thought, the bartender dove between Alastor’s legs to emphatically grope and suck at the dribbling sacks of tender flesh.

Warm, delicious milk slid down Husk’s throat, coaxed by an erotic hunger. He wanted to taste every last drop so that no one else could - to drive his hormonal lover to a state of bliss so profound that Alastor would have no choice but to need his touch for relief. With his face nestled in the swollen groin, Husk could smell the arousal twitching between teats he was attending to. The combination of Alastor’s musk and milk had the cat groaning, trousers straining from his own need. For now, all that mattered to Husk was alleviating the deer’s discomfort.

𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐄

The magma, wet heat of Husk’s mouth enveloping his engorged teats had Alastor's lids fluttering shut in ecstasy, a low moan rolling out in unleashed lust.

Pushing his pelvis forward clumsily, his buttocks pressed hard into the bathtub’s edge, the velvety texture of his energetic lover’s mouth pressing in all around his full udders surpassed all expectations. This was the very first time the Radio Demon had undergone the Rut’s new transformation, the body horror slipping into a sensual exploitative routine, going by the relentless painful tension oppressive in his gut seeking relief through a partner's help.

The damp environment of the feline's mouth triggering, the pull on his teats randomly switching between the various motions of fondling, kneading, suction, let down the luscious milk simultaneously. Streams of milk surged the bartender's maw, a shrill bleat interjected with self-conscious whimpers elicited from the pacified deer, the warmth emanating from the buck's swollen udders throbbing fiercer as the bartender guzzled everything he had to give.

Alastor's cock leaking precvm, twitching, the excess fluid trickling down the seam of his bloated sacs to join the flow of milk — the salty liquid not necessarily altering the sweetened, fatty taste of his built up milk.

Each and every drag of the cat’s torturous, rough tongue firmly lapping up his expressed milk drew renewed shudders from the humiliated Radio Demon, relaxing his stiffened body to cross his arms over his face, pushing his folded forearms hard into his closed eyes, unable to muffle a pathetic cry as the enthralling performance burned out his endurance. Tongue lolled out in exultation, chest rising and falling as the buck panted wantonly, Alastor's unchained gratification for Husker's support treaded uncharted territory.

How frequent was this practise supposed to occur?

Milk continuing to spurt out as the cat suckled, bubbles of froth piling up whenever a twitching teat was abandoned in favor of the other, the chosen sucked teat pumping in fervent need to be drained. The blushed tips warming up, quickened sensitivity tested the limits of Alastor's stamina, his virginal experience possessing this new organ opening up new forms of pain. The unyielding sucks and gropes gave profound relief in the heavy sacs, the oxytocin flooding his senses to sedation, however it also introduced the problematic exacerbated tenderness of the organ.

The stubborn pressure inside on his bladder and prostate eased over the course of Husk feeding off him, the Radio Demon squirming in place, he felt obliged to nudge a knee into the engrossed gambler's shoulder in unfettered warning, sending off confusing signals as to whether or not he wished Husk to keep doing this — tail wagging, albeit crushed in his uncomfortable position, the Overlord pushing his other leg closer to brush Husk's cheek, the deer flinching when he startled himself as the cat's whiskers tickled his inner thigh and udder.

Disoriented, refusing to look down at the marvellous sight of his old friend’a face buried in his groin, Alastor managed to croak out a rasped, pleading request — fevered skin clammy with want, ears sagged and jerking with every lingering suck on a drying up teat.

“W-what — how — h-how do I… r-repay… Husker..? Oh, g-gods..!!”

The Radio Demon's erection hardened, the base and shaft throbbing blood rushing to fill his member, thicker cream seeped from the gaping slit, the cockhead grazing his abdomen as the deer groaned, rutting his hips into Husk's soft face, eager for further friction in spite of his milk flow weakened the longer tha gambler drank.

[messofmoss]

saturday, june 22, 2024

8:31am

i just slept for 11 hours. i got home from work and basically just passed out. my phone is half dead. my whole body hurts. i had a whole handprint on my arm when i woke up lol

there were many times my mind was racing yesterday and i wanted to write here but i was working and couldn't. i feel like writing it down helps a bit because instead of rattling around in my brain, it's pouring out here. like a bit of release and relief.

my head hurts. it hurt a lot yesterday too. i forgot to take my pills. i haven't missed a day in awhile. i was missing a refill and i was going to take them when i got the missing part but forgot about it.

i feel shitty. i don't want to go to work today. or do anything really. slept 11 hours and i just want to go back to sleep. sleep 11 more hours. i hate work. i don't want to go. i don't want to be around humans. i just want to be in my dark cave with my cats and my kindle and my pillow. i didn't even get to enjoy my days off because it was too hot to exist.

i feel like crying right now. i don't want to go so bad. i can't just call out every weekend though. ugh

10:19am

i sent her a minute of voice messages and all she says back is "okayyy" an hour later. really nothing to say at all??? why do i even bother

5:15pm

teary in the car again. i think julia is mad at me for calling her a hater. i was only teasing.

as SOON as she opened my last voice message, she started typing and said she was going to bed. she hadn't even listened to half of it yet. that voice was my attempt to change the subject. i said "i'm going to try to befriend the new girl at work tonight" the one i had told her might be a lesbian. idk i'm just so sad.

lilly told me to back off her and see if she reaches out to me first. i feel like she won't because last night i fell asleep and forgot to send her good morning message and when i woke up, she had read my last message and just... didn't say anything to me.

8:40pm

i can't enjoy my free time because i made a plan and that plan isn't until monday morning but like it takes away future planned free time before work and now i'll have to be out doing something and now i am just in a perpetual state of anxiety waiting for that thing. and it's like when you have a dentist appt at like 2pm so you can't enjoy your morning because you're just waiting for the appointment. i hate transition periods. i used to tell brogan to not tell me if he had to leave in like 10 or 20 minutes or whatever because then i wouldn't be able to enjoy that time anymore because it would feel like we are in a transition phase and it just makes me stupid anxious. the plan for monday is to go to clifton park at 8am to pick up thomas from the mechanic and hang with him til i have to work. i just hate making plans in general. i hate weekends because i have to work. i hate feeling trapped. work schedule makes me feel trapped. making plans makes me feel trapped.

also i have acid reflux/heartburn whatever for the first time in aaaaages and i hate it so much. i think it's because i've had pan pizza two days in a row at work. i need to get back to my diet. i feel like shit. i look like shit. i am shit. i look at my reflection and i don't even recognize my face anymore. like who the fuck is that? why do i look like that?

[garticnebula]

my body where light as a feather, drifting endlessly, this unending chasm of white where as lifeless as my eyes, sunken and as hollow as this blinding lackluster pigment.

How long had I been here? How long had well, eterinity lasted? I sometimes get glimpses to my life before, but how I ended up here escapes me, as if this void itself had entered my very being, sucking out all I hold dear.

I'm aware I had a lover, that much I know to be true, but their scent.. Their look, even their voice vanishes like the wind, forever leaving my train of thought, as trying to imagine a new colour.

I sometimes hear voices in this place, really, I do. This is not a confession of madness or mental sickness, but an observation. It has came to my knowledge that this emptiness is not a where, but a who. A question I am yet to answer, and with every attempt leads to more questions, far more than my brain can ponder at once.

This vast emptiness, it is my desert of sorry and forever lonliness, and yet. Serves also as my companion, my everything. I would even at times go far to call it that of a lover, forever with me, forever by my side, as if a siren had called to me, trying to enhant me with her words and lure me away into her grasps.

And yet despite how much I ignore the sirens' call, I can never truly fully ignore it, Like a cat I find myself curious, often returning to listen for but a few moments and yet that is when I run, trying to convinve myself that it's but its lethal fangs trying to plung hemselves into my neck and drain all I am to make myself but a mere puppet for it to do its bidding till the end of time.

And yet I cannot help but play the devil's advocate, and try to justify its work, sure one may consider this abyss' call one of horror and evil, it is also merely it's own nature, never to understand the defenition of good or evil, only to understand the same goal I wish to do, survive.

And yet I still breath, despite being in the belly of the beast, unconsumed nor torn to shreds, as if I had also been forgotten, like a doll a child has became tired and bored of, a present they would only use for an hour or two, then thrown for the rest of eternaty.

I have noticed other changes too, of course. I find my mind loosing itself, in either distantless wander or spaces for longer periods of time, alongside my senses. As of current i'm incabable of moving my feet anymore. Or am I, and have I merely forgotten the feeling of ground? How long have I been subjected to this tourment, how long have I been moving, or haven't I moved at all?

My mind is racing, and I can only feel the occasional bumping of my heart and yet, I can feel oxygen entering my lungs, like a needle to a baloon they wish to explode with every inhale, my throat feels stiff and my eyes dry. How long has it been since I last blinked? Everytime I do so, atleast when I think I do so, I still see nothing but that blinding nothingness, that lack of even the slightest bit of colour.

Infact, on closer inxpection, I cannot even see myself. What do I look like? What do I sound like? Who am I.. Why can I no longer remember..

Out Of Story; Ok!! I had alot of fun writing this, I was doing a lil something with a friend and the topic of writing about nothingness came up, we had to do 500 words with the condition we couldnt take back anything, the most you could do was like half a sentence, granted I did 608 but we aren't in school so a bit more is A-Ok!! Anyways I highly reccomend all people who wanna write to do sandbox more, writing without prompts or ideas is so much fun, even if it's just me who enjoys this then it's still good in my eyes ^^

[streetslost]

      SNOB HILL... the term almost sent her into a craze of laughter. angel truly had no idea, did she? that cat was living with a millionaire. well. basically. amy and jon were still her home, and while they made a decent living, they weren't the extreme wealth of the family... but with the amount of time cat had come to spend with scott. well. she was in LUXURY now. it was whiplash and terrifying. it was crazy, insane, and rabid. the food, the opportunities. so much at her fingertips to the point she had been overwhelmed and sickly just from such benefits.

                    brunette found herself giving toothy grin, chuckling behind the display and shaking her head. she listened, she partook and understood in what angel had to say. the fear, the distance... placing one self as far from possible from the potential of a g o o d outcome. cat still did it, even now when surrounded by care, by warmth, but soft beds, abundant food, patience, and empathy. how she recoiled and stiffened. prepared for the worst, for that day when those around her she clung to dearly would laugh or sneer.

        remove her. security would snag her. drag her to the car or the street. arrest her or leave her on the side of the road. silence a companion she both craved and feared. how former street rat craved each touch of solitude, of careful isolation... but also panicked at the mere possibility of being alone again. forgotten, unwanted, despised.

                      her mind was traveling and trailing. she had to lurch to get it back to the present, recognizing her companion's questioning, a d i v e r s i o n from the conversation that had been at play. thick brows kneaded, and scowl would become evident on expression, the sort of approach that the blonde might have been more familiar with from shorter. cat's still somewhat chapped lips stretched, but she ignored their stings of frustration and instead bit on her own words, attempting to be reasonable despite the need to scold making itself known. unusual... given she was the last to ever prompt advice before.

      "don't change the subject jus' to avoid me responding," cold warning, if only because her care ran deep. angel wasn't getting out of this without stern talking to. cat would give up her new position in a heartbeat to help get her friend to safety. "...but yes, there are showers."

                     admittance before clearing her throat.

            "much less a filthy street kid my ass. i know those thoughts. they're mine, and i didn't give y'permission to STEAL them." mild attempt to ease herself and introduce calm to the discussion as uncomfortable as it would be. "the people m'with are literally famous, my story had gotten them bad press, and they're still taking me in. do y'know this family won't want you? especially after saving their son? the world sucks, but sometimes people don't. i hate them, it's scary, and this could hurt like hell if it don't work, but are y'really going to just continue to punish yourself for the rest of your life for what circumstance forced you t'be?"

      bold and hypocritical words, she knew. but cat had relented to a better life. she would try to push the same towards her friend even if she had to take her on in combat.

“I saw it alright. The crown of snob hill, that place.”

Though she scoffed and used the old scornful nickname, the laugh in Angel’s tone was clearly affectionate. She remembered the day they’d ended up at his gates by mistake, how she’d crept up to peer in the window despite his insistence not to… the sight of the family within, with such an aching hole in the middle from his absence… even now, sympathy twisted in Angel’s stomach, reminding her once more how glad she was to see Tenderfoot back home. How they’d welcomed him back…

That had been when she’d made her quick getaway while no-one was looking at her. She’d heard Tenderfoot calling after her, but by then she’d been gone. She couldn’t…

“Don’t get me wrong, we’ve seen each other again since. He’s helped me out a few times.”

As many times as she’d let him; the family might be rich, but Angel balked at the idea of taking advantage of his generosity too much. She couldn’t get through life solely depending on Tenderfoot, refused to let herself. It would be different, of course, if she were by some miracle to become part of his family, which Angel had a feeling was what her friend was getting at here. But though she might dream…

“I know what you’re thinking. But he’s got three sisters already; no parent’s going to want another kid on top of all that, much less a filthy street kid.”

The wistfulness in her tone spoke more than her words did of just how much she wished otherwise… but she wouldn’t, she couldn’t let herself hope again. Five heartbreaks were almost too many for one girl to endure: to risk a sixth would ruin her. Tenderfoot, bless his heart, insisted otherwise, that his whole family would welcome her with open arms and indeed already adored her - even though none of them except his dad had met her - for keeping him safe on the streets. But for all his insistence, she just…

Couldn’t. The likelihood of it falling through, just like every other home she’d had, scared her too much. The streets were a terrible place to live… but they at least were constant.

Striving for a lighter tone, she deliberately hopped the subject to a barely-related tangent.

“Actually speaking of, do they have showers here? I could definitely use a cleaner one than I got when that passing car splashed me the other day…!”

[husbandhannie]

haze

pairing: jeonghan x reader

word count: 650

genre: fluff

warnings: very sleep deprived reader, food mentions and cooking

a/n: i get almost hypnotic when i'm sleep deprived state sometimes, but that might just be me so this might not resonate with anyone at all. also sleep deprived as i'm typing this, can't judge quality.

taglist: @itsveronicaxxx @zurikyo @husbandhoshi @starlightjoong.

chop. chop. chop.

your eyes stay focused on the capsicum you're chopping, your mind not registering much more than the repeated sounds of the knife hitting the wooden board. you hardly slept two hours last night, worrying about the project presentation you had to give today (which is not ideal since sleep deprivation does not enhance presentation skills). it's your turn to make dinner today, and you had chosen simple vegetable fried rice, sure that you couldn't handle a more complicated recipe in your current state.

there's one more capsicum left - then there are carrots - then you can cook - then you can eat - then you can sleep. this sequence runs through your mind over and over while you chop the damned capsicum, your mind distantly wondering why you're doing it so finely.

the sound of the front door opening makes you blink, a small smile making its way to your face when jeonghan's voice travels to the kitchen. he enters the room a minute later, his soft footsteps mingling with the sound of your rhythmic chopping as he moves to stand behind you.

"fried rice for dinner?", the low murmur makes you shiver involuntarily.

"mm", you nod, "don't have energy for much more".

"that's okay", he nudges your shoulder with his cheek, "i would've have picked something up on the way if you told me, you didn't have to cook".

"that's okay", your mind starts drifting further away from conscious thought, jeonghan's soft voice never fails to make you feel safe, "i don't mind".

"mm", you feel his eyes scanning your face, "baby, how much did you sleep last night?"

"mm? like, two hours"

"okay", his voice softens up, "we'll go to bed early, okay?"

"okay", you nod.

"do you like your project partner?"

somewhere in the back of your mind, you register the sudden change in subject, but you can't find the energy to fight the haze your mind is in.

"she's okay", you answer sluggishly, "a bitch, but she's smart. hot too".

"okay", his voice softens up even more, "baby, what's your atm pin?"

"six - three - "

your answer is interrupted by a hand quickly covering your mouth, confusion coloring your face at jeonghan's resigned giggles.

"you were going to tell me your atm pin number", jeonghan explains, gently tugging the knife away from your hand and placing it on the board, "baby, you need sleep".

"why did you ask me that?", you whine, struggling against his attempts to lead you out of the kitchen, "you know what i'm like when i don't get much sleep. just let me finish - "

"no", jeonghan's voice is firm, "no knives for you. i'll finish it".

"but - babe", you sigh, "it's my turn to make dinner".

"and you've done a good job, it's almost done", he soothes, "i can finish it, you need to rest".

"but - "

"it's fried rice, i know how to make it", he leads you to the closest couch in the living room, "just sit here, it'll only be a few minutes".

"okay", you nod when you sit down, not having the energy to argue with your boyfriend, "but remember to add that sauce, that - "

"that stir-fry sauce? yeah, i know", he pats your head, turning back to head into the kitchen.

"babe, wait!", he turns around instantly at your call, releasing a questioning hum, "love you".

"it's just fried rice, you know", he smiles, leaning closer to peck your lips, "love you too".

you settle on the couch once he leaves, trying to stay awake by scrolling through cat memes on tumblr. after a few minutes, you lose the battle with your heavy eyelids and start to drift off, barely on the seam of consciousness.

the last thing you remember before falling asleep are soft touches from the hands that adjust the cushion below your head, and your lover's tender kiss on your cheek.