#I powered through and managed to finish it

[wistfulwatcher]

in an era where every show without record-breaking ratings gets axed immediately, i would just like to say how deeply grateful i am that crazy ex-girlfriend managed to air for four whole seasons and tell one of the most beautiful and moving stories of self-acceptance and love i've ever seen.

i just finished rewatching it (yet again) and every time i do i just think what an absolute shame it would have been if it had been cancelled after one or two (or even three) seasons. because, while it was clever and fun from the beginning, rebecca's mental state required the show to be so boy-crazy that it was a little tough to believe that the show would end up seeing the story through to where we eventually end up. the audience certainly got hints as to its final message early on ("love doesn't need to be a person, it can be a passion"). but because rebecca was rejecting those messages, the audience sort of had to, too. and if the show had been cancelled while rebecca was obsessed with josh? certain that her only path to happiness was romantic love and validation from a man? if we had never seen her truly understand and acknowledge ghost!akopian's words? i'm sure there would have been articles speculating on where the series could have ended up, acknowledging with resigned tones that the show had potential, with the seeds that had been planted.

but god, discussion of "the potential" of the show would have paled in comparison to what we got. because hot damn, did cxg end up doing character growth better than the vast majority of other series. (and not just for rebecca! almost every character in the large ensemble got to grow in a very organic, subversive, and meaningful way!) for a show that was consistently in danger because of their extremely low ratings, it was pretty ballsy of cxg not to rush through rebecca's story to prove its intention. for them to let rebecca be as frustrating and unlikable and unhealthy as she was for so many episodes, simply because they knew how necessary it was to show us the depth of rebecca's mistakes and struggles before she finally sought help and began to heal and grow. and the story was so, so much better and poignant for it. rebecca's season four growth feels very earned, and her end of series resolution to pursue her passion (her true love!) is so satisfying because it feels realistic. the audience has spent four years seeing her love for theater (and how it got tangled up in josh/the idea of romantic love) and when rebecca eventually realizes the same it's such a satisfying sense of finally.

it's an experience that has become painfully rare lately; too many series feel as though they're trying to cram as much into the first season as they can for fear of cancellation, and allowing no room for characters or relationships or story to grow naturally. they don't allow for anything other than the bare minimum plot. their characters can't breathe.

cxg didn't do that. they continued to tell the story they were telling, at the pace at which it needed to be told. and the series was truly phenomenal because of that choice. because of that trust in its own story and characters. cxg is a perfect example of what television can be, how powerful it can be, when it's allowed to be treated like the long-form storytelling medium it is. and i am so grateful for that.

[weirdsht]

Disillusioned 19 . It’s Only Responsibility

a/n: omg my fav chapter is finally here. i was so giddy when writing this lol

tags: low-key yandere behavior from Cale, implied torture, if Cale says what he feels is irritability then it's irritability goddammit

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are currently closed but my ask are still open (read pinned)

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Cale feels as though he can’t get a good grasp on his emotions these days. In particular, he feels as though he feels intense emotions when _____ is thrown into the mix.

Maybe it’s because he feels accountable as he willingly took in the healer.

He doesn’t know when it started, he only noticed he felt that when back at the Gyerre Territory. It was the afternoon after he had destroyed a human trafficker’s house, just before he talked with Antonio. Ron reported that he had finished investigating the Perduellios.

“Young master, this old man took a stroll there and I must say that it’s very filthy. It looks clean from a certain distance but there are rats everywhere once you look closely. No wonder healer-nim grew up with a weak body. Someone like them does not fit that place.”

The redhead didn’t say anything but the servant could tell his listening to every word. 

The young master’s eyes don’t lie after all. 

And right now those eyes are filled with anger. 

Unmeasurable Anger

To the point it made the servant do a double-take.

Despite Cale’s brewing anger he still does everything according to plan. He doesn’t let out a single ounce of that anger until later when his talking to Alberu.

“Your Highness, the future shining sun of the Roan Kingdom. No one is as bright as you. Just seeing your face, even through a communication device, brightens my night and brings me hope for tomorrow.”

“Just tell me what you want. Is it another golden plaque? But you still have some.”

“Not this time your highness.”

Alberu was taken aback at the serious expression on the redhead’s face.

“As you already know, the Perduellios were working with the Chryshis. I trust your highness to handle the Gyerres and the Chryshis. However…”

“You want to handle the Perduellios.”

“We really are alike your highness.”

Alberu already saw this coming so he instantly agreed.

“I’ll allow it on the condition that they must stay in Aunt Tasha’s dungeon. Speaking of Aunt Tasha, she said she also wants a piece.”

“Then I shall be generous enough to share.”

Cale himself isn’t sure how he had the time to meet that bastard family. Between the war against the Indomitable Alliance. Fighting Arm and the Empire, and teaching the nobles a lesson Cale still managed to find free time to visit the Perduellios.

Must be the power of unmeasurable anger.

“Beacrox, Raon prepare to move quietly tonight. We’ll be meeting Tasha.”

The two are confused as to why, but Cale did not explain. He doesn’t need to as they instantly understand after seeing who’s inside the cell they are visiting.

“Young master Cale shouldn’t _____-nim be here?”

Cale looked at Tasha as if she said the most outrageous thing ever. Meanwhile, in the background, Beacrox is preparing his tools as Raon supplies information as to what the healer went through.

“Why would they be here when I’m doing this to relieve stress? I’m here to act trash, that’s not something an unofficial holy maiden should see.”

The next morning Alberu regrets taking a peak before the cell was cleaned up. He doesn’t think he can light up any of his beloved candles for at least a week.

+~+~+~+~+~+

Succeeding that incident, the next time Cale was overtaken by his emotions was after Operation Reflection. Unlike the last time, Cale felt two conflicting emotions this time.

Skyrocketing Pride and Plumeting Disgust

_____ was a core player during the navy battle and that made the redhead proud. Of course, he was also proud of everyone else in their group.

…but perhaps his a bit more proud of the healer.

However, it was only because they had come a long way. As Cale’s responsibility, his proud that the healer is doing better under his guidance.

Nothing more, nothing less.

“Human, those useless noble bastards were also talking bad about our _____ when you left. Some of them even had the nerve to directly yell at them. I wanted to smack them, but you told me to not do anything to those people for now so I didn't."

But then Raon’s report came.

Pride had been washed over by disgust.

Good thing _____ had talked him out of doing anything rash.

“Cale it’s okay. People who only know how to leech off other people are not worth your time.”

Did he mention how proud he is of how far _____ has come? Because he really is.

However, rumours say that it was the night after that when Cale first ‘visited’ the Perduellios.

+~+~+~+~+~+

Cale’s next overwhelming emotion is something his already familiar with. He already felt it back when they were in the Whipper Kingdom.

In fact, he has already associated this feeling with the healer.

Heart Palpitating Distress

But this time it feels more intense. Cale feels as if his heart is going to crawl out of his chest and into his mouth.

Thump!!

Thump!!

The redhead had been acting as though nothing was wrong ever since they finished the battle at Castle Leona. Contrary to his calm exterior, the redhead is a mess on the inside.

A wound, a stab wound with a lot of blood gushing.

Just inches near _____ heart.

And Cale has a strong gut feeling that it was _____’s own doing.

Seeing the copious amount of blood they lost was already bad enough. Seeing the nasty wound itself when they had to change the bandages was worse.

Then as if that isn’t enough to send Cale into a coma, the healer had the audacity to stand up not even 12 hours after their injury.

It was at that moment the commander made a conscious choice of sticking the healer to him like velcro.

+~+~+~+~+~

Nowadays, Cale is not ping-ponging between his emotions like a madman. But he did notice that he tends to feel a particular emotion these days.

Jealo– Irritability

Cale isn’t sure why he feels irritated, but he does. He feels irritated as soon as _____ woke up and started talking to Bud.

What happened during the week he was gone that those two are all friendly now?

And what was that? Bud is going to teach _____ how to drink?

Not on Cale’s watch.

It’s one thing for him if _____ themself wants to try drinking, but he won’t let the healer be coerced by some fool.

“Ron, separate those two as much as possible. That drunkard is nothing but a nuisance to _____.”

For a moment Cale got the chills when he heard Ron chuckle. It doesn’t help that the kids are laughing too. Regardless, it looks like the servant will heed his request so he lets it be.

But his jea– irritability doesn’t end there.

The next victim of Cale’s so-called irritable mood was this poor servant in Mogoru.

When Cale got back to Mogoru he unfortunately had to leave _____ back in the castle. There are too many undercover missions they have to do. And while _____ is much better than Choi Han at undercover missions, that man is a lot of things but an actor is not one of them, Cale isn’t cruel enough to make them take on such a taxing mission after being sick.

So he leaves the healer in the Mogoru Castle with Rosalyn and the others. 

“Young master-nim what about assigning a dedicated servant for healer-nim?”

Was Rosalyn’s suggestion after Cale mentioned _____’s tendency to overwork themself.

It seemed like a good idea, therefore they arranged for the healer to have a servant. The servant’s job would consist of making sure the Medicus is eating and resting properly. That servant would also act as _____’s assistant, taking care of whatever the healer needs.

At that time, Cale was satisfied with that plan.

That satisfaction quickly changed when he visited Adin’s room, (well, it’s practically _____ and Cale’s room now) and saw how the healer kept calling the servant’s name. In the beginning, it was fine, Cale didn’t mind it. But then he noticed how _____ seems to call for that servant every 5 sentences they utter.

Honestly? Even Cale knows his acting irrationally this time.

Did he care though? Of course not. Since when did trash care for another person’s feelings?

So he stationed that servant far away.

“Raon make a call in the underground villa. I must talk to Hans”

“HAHAHAHAHAHA!”

Ignoring Hannah’s snickering that turned into full-blown laughter, Cale called Hans over to assist the healer.

Because if the healer is going to rely on someone who’s not Cale, then it might as well be one of his people.

This one is a totally logical decision on Cale’s end. It’s not because of his jea– irritability.

It’s definitely just part of him being responsible over _____.

[randomspagetti]

{The End/A Compilation on This Project}

Summary:

I don't really like the climax I came up with at the time so I'll be adding a new version here. So if It differs from the images that's why, I feel like I made the pages during a time where I just wanted to get the comic over with so it kinda feels generic and half baked.

-

Starting from our last point, with the words of encouragement from the Light of Resolution and the steel force will to get his dad back, Choco manages to land a powerful strike, surprising the ancients and phasing Berserk Cacao.

This leaves space for the ancients to also be able to help, Pure Vanilla gives both Choco and Holly buffs while Holly holds the line and protects them from incoming attacks. By doing so they're able to get closer. Finally, a combined attack is hit to where something finally seems to happen. It's powerful and cuts into the indoor wall of the citadel. The smoke dissipates and all that is left is just Cacao.

They're all pretty suprised, but Cacao still has some lingering curse corruption on his body and his breathing is shallow. Hearing the loud crashes from the room the watchers (and Caramel) run in to see the ... interesting situation that had unfolded.

We then cut to Cacao sitting in a hospital room, he had woken up a bit earlier and is trying somewhat to recall the events of the previous day.

Holly and PV soon walk in with mugs, not expecting him to be up. They're caught off guard but soon calm down and get to chatting. Cacao finally admits he's not really doing all so well with both his kingdom and his son over the course of the conversation.

He also sort of opens up about more sensitive issues he's been through, thought he doesn't hold that topic for long given it's just too much for him at the moment. Holly understands where he's coming from and offers some words of encouragement, while PV tells him they're going to look into something for the curse and to actually help Cacao mentally.

Cacao reluctantly agrees.

It ends a bit more open ended with your own interpretation of how Cacao deals with his issues being set, though there would be a few aftermath pages exploring the relationship with the characters shown after the events of the story, this one for example is Cacao and Choco doing pottery painting.

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

Some interesting facts, and stuff I made that didn't make it into the final cut:

-In my discord server berserk Cacao was often referred to as "The enemy spider"

-I often used their hands (so many hand drawings) as a way to show more of their character, Holly has hand scars while PV has a redness around his nails from stress. I like to add a human aspect to each of them so the reader can relate

-Berserk Cacao has had so many iterations before the final one, I just couldn't decide what I wanted him to look like!

-Each character has a different way of showing their thoughts/flashbacks! Caramels are more center focused given her only thought in that flashback was of the loud crash, Choco's are blurry given his eyesight, and Cacao has flashbacks and thinks in grayscale! You can actually notice this more during the dinner scene, this has it's own reasoning but it's bit more darker

-Most of the sketches were 10x more funnier than the finished project but I had to make it realistic

-Affogato was originally going to make it into the comic as a background character, but I felt it was too OOC for him given his devious crimes

Onto the darker stuff-

TW: Implied Abuse, Blood

-Everyone knows about the cut panels but there was actually an entire page scrapped too, originally this would follow along with the Light of Resolution convo (I will now refer to it as the LOR) but I scrapped it for a few reasons.

-Firstly I felt like it didn't add anything and only just re-established something the reader already well knew from both Holly and Cacaos statements, secondly I just felt like it was OOC for how I wrote the LOR. The LOR is in part Cacao. He is Cacao's resolution made physical. This would be his story to tell because he is a part of Cacao. It is Cacao in a way. I also felt revealing his face felt kinda eh and just didn't fit. So for those reasons I chopped it

-Cacao's curse wound was actually bleeding in this scene, though it's a bit hard to see with the shaders

That's all! Thank you everyone for being on this journey with me, I appreciate each and every one of you, you truly helped me expand my art horizons

[ndostairlyrium]

Let him send the troops for once, I beg you

[theartingace]

A Season 2 'cover' to go with my initial cover design!

[taphwa]

[ghirahimbo]

also, in totk there’s very few mentions of the champions and calamity ganon, and a lot of the stuff from botw seems to have been retconned, like the sheikah technology etc. i feel like that would be such a bittersweet world for post-calamity link to be living in 😭

yes..... yes :')

It's one of my main issues with TotK, to be honest. I think Majora's Mask was able to get away with being a sequel because they took Link literally out of Hyrule, leaving the previous story intact. TotK, because it wanted to take place in that same Hyrule without leaning too heavily on BotW, ended up practically dismantling the old story instead. I think there are many ways they could have paid respectful homage to BotW without the new game completely revolving around it, and retconning/ignoring so much kinda defeats the purpose of it being a sequel at all in my mind? But yes, I do think it would be bittersweet for him 😭

[butchers-dead-hands]

sorry I made Daniel submissive and breedable :/ Oh well, there's other characters

[amaranthdahlia]

nobody told him there was gonna be a cosplay session for new years, katsuki was in for a hare of a suprise

bonus;

[isabelpsaroslunnen]

The best creative writing advice for novelists I ever received:

WRITE. Write, and don’t stop.

Don’t run off to Wikipedia or JSTOR for research. Make a note to yourself about it, if it’s important. If you realize a serious change needs to be made two chapters back, don’t edit that chapter. Make a note to yourself about it, pretend you’ve made the necessary revision, and keep going. If you can’t think of the perfect word just at this moment, put it in brackets and keep going. If you re-read the last paragraphs you wrote and decide you’re not really happy with them, don’t re-write. Note it and move on. Ideally, don’t even re-read. If you’re worried you might have made a continuity mistake? Make a note of it and keep writing.

You can make small edits to the words you are currently writing. Just don’t look back. Keep going. Take a break if you need it. Play a video game, read a book, reblog cat pictures, go for a walk. Give yourself a research day if that helps. Most of the time, though, you need to keep writing. You can revise when you’re done—or you can end up with a few polished chapters of a perpetually unfinished novel.

[cubicpeebles]

The bird anatomy post I reblogged reminded me of these little goobers I created a while back!

I can't believe I forgot about my silly crows...

[azure-clockwork]

I love the genre of (usually male) engineers who know they’re smart and think that makes them magically experts on everything. Homeskillet, you’re a mechanical engineer and programmer who isn’t even really good at either, and you’re attempting to tell me (the team’s electronics gal) and our EE about quadrature encoders. You’re just wrong but you won’t let me get a word in edgewise. I have been staring at our wiring diagram til my eyes bleed and I have done six other projects with similar motors. Shut the actual fuck up.

[orcelito]

If I scrape my brain out of my body and put it in a robot maybe then I would be less tired

[lewisrises]

B boldlettered here to remind the nation that Charles is really that guy

[fingertipsmp3]

Girl help I don't understand my homework

[gallusrostromegalus]

The Van Has Officially Declared It Spooky Season

---

I've got my parent's van for the week and it seems determined to establish my status as The Local Cryptid by terrorizing an innocent 7-11 clerk.

...I might need to back up a bit.

My mother is an eminently sensible woman who knows herself well, and when The Plauge hit, she knew she'd need some sort of mentally and physically engaging craft project to keep herself from going insane and massacring the local zoning and water management boards (even if they have it coming). So she and Dad acquired a utility van and converted it into a camper van because while they love camping, they're past the age where their joints and immune systems will tolerate sleeping on the cold ground in a nylon tent.

They did a terrific job of it and my mom taught herself woodworking and carpentry and now the van has it's own cabinets, fold-away dining table, and removable queen-sized bed with memory foam mattress. My Dad was already a computer engineer, but he learned the dark magics of automotive software and electronics to install after-market backup cameras, a media player that would take a terabyte hard drive and a solar-powered battery and outlet so they could wake up and just turn on the kettle and griddle for breakfast without having to exit the van into a cold morning on an empty stomach.

Truly, the height of Camping Luxury.

My parents are both in their mid-seventies and my primary life goal is to be at least half as cool and hale as they are when I get old.

Anyway, they take it out at least a dozen times a year and it works fabulously, but, being as I am on good terms with my parents and also finishing the process of moving house, I've been borrowing it to move large and cumbersome objects that will not fit in the back of my equally lovely but minuscule Honda hatchback.

It's a Great Van. Very easy and comfortable to drive. Stunningly good MPG for it's size. The best cruise control I've ever had in a car.

It's just also. Quirky. Mischievous, even.

---

If this van has a fault its that it bears the unfortunate affliction that all lightly used white utility vans have in that the combination of an utter lack of branding features and the large dent/scrape I accidentally put on it while trying to escape a Denny's last Thanksgiving means that this vehicle is one addition of a Badly Spray-Painted "FREE CANDY" on the side away from being the sort of vehicle you see in an edgy horror movie.

It's got the same issue that Doberman Dogs have where they look like the sort of creature that likes to snack on toddler's faces whilst actually having personalities made of marshmallow fluff. This vehicle is unnecessarily menacing and I think nothing short of an airbrushed Epic Van Wizard will correct this. People see this van pull up and lean over and squint suspiciously at me when the driver's side door opens, and then look moderately confused when, instead of Charles Manson, a small, potato-shaped creature with neon purple hair and a statistically unlikely assortment of dogs emerges.

My own two dogs, Herschel the Hanukkah Goblin/Corgi and Charleston Chew The Taco Dumpster Dog, Do Not Like The Van. Even with the bed in it, they have a tendency to slide and roll around in the back, and both WILL chew through dog saftey belts or other attempts to secure them in there.

On the other hand, my house mate's dog, an exceptionally tall standard poodle whom we lovingly call "The Creature", loves the Van because SHE wears her doggy seat-belt with only mild complaining and gets to sit up in the passenger seat like A People.

Also like A People, The Creature likes to stand and walk around on her hind legs. It doesn't hurt her and it's entirely voluntary, but every so often I will feel a hand on my arm and instead of my husband or friend, it's a canine that's taller than I am on her hind legs who wants to stare at my face with soulful, concerned eyes. The Creature's favorite thing is that she is exactly the right height for me to hold her arm in Genteel Fashion and walk around the pet food or hardware store with her like I'm a count escorting a debutante around a royal ball.

---

As it stands, I am set to inherit this vehicle whenever my Honda gives up the ghost, and I fully intend to paint an Epic Van Wizard on it when that time comes.

The other peculiarity of The Van is that while Dad did manage to successfully install all his after-market electronics, not all the electronics get along. Sometimes, they fight for Dominance. The Terabyte Music Player and the Backup Camera have a particularly contentious relationship, and turning on the music has about a 25% chance of turning on the backup camera as well, and turning on the Backup Camera is equally likely to turn on the music.

Firthermore, The Van has a favorite song.

I am not kidding that Dad filled an entire terabyte hard drive with music and the software to sort it via the radio controls, but of all the Early Boomer Dad Rock (Kingston Trio over The Eagles) and Irish Folk and Symphonies and the entire discography of Weird Al Yankovic, The Van's favorite song- The one it picks to play as victory music every time it beats the Backup Camera at their weird electronic game of rock-paper-scissors -is The Liberty Bell March by John Phillip Sousa.

You all know this song already.

...but in case you've forgotten the tune:

Yeah.

The Van's favorite song is the goddamn Monty Python's Flying Circus Theme Music.

It does not play this song at a normal volume.

Every time I turn on the Backup Camera and it manages to turn the music player on as well, The Van insists on absolutely blasting this nonsense on at the maximum volume it's physically capable of producing, which I know is loud enough to be heard from the Denver International Airport's Pickup zone when they Van decided to start playing it from the economy lot about half a mile away.

Perhaps it's The Van's way of honoring the aesthetic sensibilities and sonic enthusiasm of Mr. Sousa.

...I can't help but wonder if the purpose of an Epic Van Wizard is to control this sort of faerie-like malarkey, and channel these chaotic energies into things like Spell of Don't Break Down In Nevada or Enchantment Of Always Have Good Parking.

---

So last Friday the 13th, I get a call from my friend and housemate, at said airport.

It's roughly 11PM at night, and I have already retired for the evening. I am in the exact minimum of clothing required to be a decent housemate and not scandalize the neighbors should I happen to walk by a window. My feet are up. There is a cat in my lap and fictional British people murdering each other in highly inventive fashion on the tv. -But my friend has returned from her friend's wedding,and either American or United Airlines has managed to lose her luggage, including, among other valuable possessions, the keys to her car. ...So she cannot just drive home as originally planned.

There are, as luck would have it, her spare set of keys not eight feet from me.

Being a good and decent person, I agree to bring the spare keys to her so she may get home before daybreak and not spend a semester's worth of tuition on an uber across the greater Denver traffic jam.

Being also that she Loves Activities, and it's her mom we're going to pick up, I elect to take along The Creature.

I am primarily focused on remembering how to get to the airport and not leaving my friend's spare keys on the counter, so I throw on a pair of flip-flops, step outside, remember that it's AUTUMN and my minimal evening attire is not sufficient thermal protection, step back in, grab the first coat in the closet I lay hands on, pull it on, check that I have her keys again and leave.

The trip to the airport is largely unremarkable, save that it becomes necessary for me to put on sunglasses to drive, despite it being nearly the witching hour and almost entirely darker than the inside of a cow.

It's necessary because this blissful darkness of night is violently punctured by a startling number of cars that seem to have installed miniaturized but no less powerful lighthouse bulbs in where their headlights ought to go so the oncoming traffic and sports cars that insist on tailgating me in the slow lane alike illuminate the road and my mirrors with the kind of radiance I'd normally associate with the arrival of a Seraphim.

I arrive at the distant highly discounted airport car lot where my housemate is waiting, deeply apologetic. It's nothing. I say. Once I see that your car starts up, I'm gonna go to that 7-11 across the way that I parked in front of, get a slurpee or something and I'll see you at home.

While she is retrieving her vehicle (an equally eccentric but much more stately Subaru that is old enough to be elected to congress) I rifle through the loose change in the glove box and discover that I have exactly $6.66 in small bills and coins. The Subaru, continuing it's long voyage into vehicular immortality, immediately starts up.

Upon her return, we all remember that my friend had all her camping gear in the backseat of the car and there is no room for The Creature to ride home with her parent, so I again assure her it's nothing, and will just take The Creature into the 7-11 with me. She is trained as a service animal and needs the practice after the plague.

I wave my friend off and turn to enter the 7-11.

I promptly trip over the jutting back bumper of The Van and fall, cartoonishly, face-first onto the sidewalk.

Fortunately, I have a lot of practice falling on my face, and have learned not to throw my hands out but instead cover my face, so my unexpected self-inflicted attempted curb-stomping lightly scrapes my hairline and nothing else -my sunglasses even stay in place- and I get up and resume my quest for a slurpee.

It's well known that the airport is a lawless place, and the 7-11 across from the discounted airport parking at the stroke of midnight is no exception.

I know it's the stroke of Midnight because there's one of those Audubon society bird-call clocks that makes bird noises, and my arrival is heralded by the twittering call of a Summer Tanager. I am almost charmed enough by the unusual choice of chronological device to excuse the exorbitant Airport-adjacent mark-up of Slurpee prices. I stand at the machine for some time, trying to decide on a size for the price and guess what the fuck "Blue Lighting Blast" is supposed to taste like.

The Creature is being Very Polite but is somewhat agitated, I assume because she *just* saw her mother for the first time in three days and then she LEFT with no explanation, so The Creature is on her hind legs, staring woefully into my eyes, asking to be escorted around the 7-11. Even though that's not what she's not supposed to be doing, there's nobody else in here, so I let her hang off my arm and discuss various Slurpee Flavor options with her.

We eventually decide on an experiment in which I try a Small Blue Lightning Blast, and discover it tastes a bit like licking a nintendo cartridge but in a pleasantly satisfying way.

I go up to pay and realize something is amiss.

The Cashier is a young man staring at me with wide eyes, one had over the register and the other wrapped up in his rosary.

I look down at myself.

In my haste to reunite my friend with her spare keys and service animal, I had left the house in the following accoutrements:

Flip Flops. Not matching. It's below freezing outside. That last part is not particularly odd footwear for the weather in for Colorado, but it's an important detail for the rest of the ensemble.

Assorted scrapes, bruises, cuts and welts on my arms and legs that come with doing outdoor work and living in a house with three dogs and a fully-clawed cat that all want to be in my lap all the time. It's cold out, so vasoconstriction has pulled the blood away from my skin, a trait that served my ancestors well during the last Ice Age, but leaves me with pale skin to contrast the various wounds and I look like a corpse that fell out of the back of a pickup truck.

The black Bootyshorts with "CRYPTID" painted in bright red gothic font across my ass, that @theshitpostcalligrapher gave me for my wedding present.

A peculiar but extremely comfortable garment that straddles the line between "Lacy Camisole" and "Industrial-Strength Sports Bra" like the Ever Given straddling the Suez Canal. It is also Bright Red. with black accents.

The Jacket I had grabbed out of the closet, which is in fact, a black Velour Dinner Jacket.

The Tokyo-Ghoul inspired reusable anti-covid mask a friend made me with the set of Coyote Teeth.

My sunglasses, which are shaped like a Halloween Bat. The lenses are the wings and the body is the nose bridge. It is ALSO bright red.

A Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle that I have been audibly affectionately calling "Dear Creature" who is hanging off my arm like she's my Prom Date.

The Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle is ALSO dressed up in a black Dog Sweater that has white bones printed on it to look like its an X-ray jacket showing off her skeleton.

I look like I am taking my Very Fancy Werewolf Girlfriend to a particularly casual Dinner Party for Vampires, but the thing that's really selling it and probably alarming the kid the most is the fun accessory I acquired in the parking lot not five minutes earlier:

The "Small Scrape At my Hairline" is actually a painless but PROFUSELY bleeding head wound that I had somehow entirely failed to notice covering my face, neck, decolletage and magnificent cleavage with blood like a Tarantino Film Extra.

This does explain why The Creature has been delicately trying to use her bodyweight to push me down onto the floor for the last ten minutes. So I don't injure myself while we wait for the paramedics she hoped this kid called to arrive, you see.

The Creature has such a High and Naive Opinion of humanity.

I decide this social situation is already fucked, and the only way out is through, and with haste, before I start dripping on the floor.

"Hi there!" I say cheerfully, to indicate this is a visually alarming but not terribly serious situation. "Just a Small Slurpee!"

The Cashier has entered the relevant code into the register before I finish the sentence. His gaze flicks off me just long enough to look at the total, and he grips his Rosary harder.

$6.66

"Oh cool! I have exact change!" I say, taking the money out of my as-yet-unsanguined pocket without looking and slap it down on the counter. "You have a good night and be safe out there!" I wave, leaving.

I get in The Van, mortified, buckle The Creature up, and as I make to leave, I have to put it in reverse, which automatically turns on the backup Camera.

It also turns on the music player.

I make eye contact with the cashier as the dulcet tones of John Phillip Sousa boom from the van hard enough to make the windshield and the windows of the 7-11 rattle for the nine-and-a-half seconds I have to wait to be able to turn the volume back down. Not knowing what else to to, I give him a thumbs up, and leave.

Anyway, now I know what my Future Van Wizard has got to be dressed like, and what their familiar is.

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