#cw hunger

[teal-fiend]

an observer who has perfected the craft of pushing people into predator mode.

word count: 2600

You were hanging out with this guy all day. You hadn't known each other for that long, a few months. and you still didn't know; were you just going to be friends? Or was it going to be romantic? You didn't mind either way, really. Although you would have liked clarification. But he seemed genuinely interested in you; you had shared interests, and it was just easy being with him - not in a bad way. it was just effortless in a way that was refreshing.

You spent the day out and about; walking around, you got lunch together earlier, but a few hours passed and now you were going back to his house

you expected a kiss, but instead he puts a hand on your stomach. Strange, but not entirely unwanted.

"Are you hungry?" he asked

"Um, yeah, I suppose."

You were starting to get hungry; it was time for afternoon tea, or an early dinner.

"Do you mind?" He asked softly. You muttered a no, you didn't mind. He petted your stomach gently, scoping it out, it seemed like. You felt him gently poke at your soft middle, moving briefly to feel either side of your hips, before returning to the belly area.

You looked to his face and he was concentrated, almost with a medical focus. You felt your face flush with the precise attention you were getting. But you also wanted to ask him what the hell he was up to.

Soon he looked up at you, your eyes met, his expression was neutral, like this was a normal thing for him. He asked you if you wanted a belly rub. You though that was what he just did. But you had no reason to refuse, and now you were curious - you wanted to see where this was going. So you agreed.

He led you over to a kind of couch-chair, that he encouraged you to seat yourself in. He guided you to lie back, making sure you were comfortable. Then he went back to what he was doing, pressing lightly on your stomach.

He worked in on your belly, kneading down on it with some force, but not a painful amount. When he got lower down, on your intestines, you felt some pressure.

"This is your lunch," he pointed out, poking at a firm spot under your skin. It was, you remembered the time the two of your spent at the cafe earlier. You didn't think that he'd be massaging your stomach later

you blushed, unsure of his motivations still. He began working on that spot, and you did feel some release of pressure, accompanied by a gurgle as the food moved down your digestive tract.

"What are you doing?" You asked, on the verge of mild annoyance from his lack of an explanation.

"I'm making room," he said simply.

...

You could piece things together. He probably had figured out that you were a pred. And he probably wanted to feed you. prey.

But how did he know? Was it really that obvious? You felt your face heat with embarrassment. How many people knew just by seeing you? How many people knew but never brought it up out of courtesy?

Anyway, You should have probably told him that you don't really eat prey. Not that often anyway; you definitely weren't hungry enough right now.

"Do you mind if I...?" He touched the corner of my mouth. You told him again, no, go ahead. He parted your lips carefully with his fingers, with the confidence and expertise of a dentist, he inspected your teeth. He pressed down on their points; you heard him hum, as if in confirmation. A practiced eye could tell a predator by the teeth. The canines tended to be longer, yours weren't, but your other teeth were of a certain thickness and sharpness that was indicative of a predator; your molars had a pointedness, similar to a dog's. Supposedly, this would help in holding down on prey as it was eaten.

You felt his fingers graze overtop of them, and you salivated at the taste. When he removed his hands, you closed your mouth and swallowed.

"Look," you said, "I'm not all that hungry. Well, not that kind of hungry"

"Your body is ready for prey" He explained, "You haven't eaten in a couple weeks at least."

"I just had lunch a few hours ago."

"I mean, you haven't eaten prey. I've been with you almost every day this year, and although you might be able to hide it well, I know it's been a while."

You can still taste his flesh on your teeth, you lick your teeth and swallow again.

"Sorry," he said, sounding genuine, "you're probably going to feel pretty hungry in a minute. but if you don't want prey, I have regular food in my fridge - or I can uber something if you want-"

"Why would I be hungry?" You did feel a little hungry now. But not... not that hungry...

"I mean," He started sheepishly, "the belly rub; your stomach is awake now, and your small intestine is empty too."

"Okay-"

"- and the hands in your mouth thing; you've had a taste of prey now, so your body's going to start preparing to consume that."

hmm.

"And talking about eating - specifically talking about eating prey, it can kind of help with releasing those predator hormones that come out before you consume prey."

He continues, "not to mention, we were walking around the park all day, that amount of exercise will also, um, stimulate appetite."

"You've got this down to a science," you say.

He smiles, but tries to hide it, "yeah, sorry. Yeah, I guess I do. But it's not like that-"

"You said you have food?"

He shows you to the kitchen

You go into his fridge, and take out a stick of celery. you crunch on it aggressively, like you're biting apart someone's arm. It falls into your stomach sadly, and you feel an angry clench in your middle. It doesn't want that kind of food anymore.

You feel a little light-headed, a little dizzy, your gaze snaps back to this guy. He caused this, it's his fault.

he looks a little scared as you glare at him. Good. You feel a swell of pride or righteous justice, but then you feel sad. You like him, you don't want to scare him. You don't want to mess this up. but he's the one that messed it up

"What made you so sure that I wouldn't eat you?" You ask

He opens his mouth, but seems lost for words. He whispers "please don't...?"

There's a reason you don't often engage with your predatory side; it's very hard for you to control.

He didn't know that, but should this be a mistake that costs his life? Your stomach is growling now, you put a hand over it, to silence it or comfort it.

"Do you have prey?" You ask through gritted teeth, "Besides yourself?"

"Yes! Yes," He says, "I'll be right back." He rushes off, almost quick enough for you to want to chase after him. But you stay where you are, your hand now gripping the countertop because it's the only thing keeping you in place

three people enter the room, it's him and someone you know to be his friend. The third person you do not know

your predator brain immediately feels excitement. three entire prey! all for you to eat up. You could run to the front door and lock it, then you could chase down each one of them - it would be so much food.

You remind yourself that you aren't even capable of eating that much. You try to be more present in the moment, you realise that someone had asked you something, but you weren't paying attention.

One of the prey speaks, "Never mind, I'll see you later," they say to each other. Then one prey walks out of the front door. You feel disappointed - you should have locked it. Now there are only two of them. Still, you've never eaten two at once.

One of them approaches you. you feel adrenaline building as they get closer - it's not even running away.

But no, no, this is not the one you're supposed to eat. "Are you alright?" He asks.

You can't even begin to broach the question. "I'm hungry," you respond, which is true. More true than the words can express.

He nods. With more confidence than he should have, he takes your arm, and guides you into the living room.

Soon, the prey's hands are in your mouth. You're gulping them down ravenously, animalistically. You haven't consumed prey in a long while; it's good to be back.

"good, eat, eat up" he says gently

As you swallow, you feel a relief from the mania of hunger. Your anger dissipates too, somewhat.

Him encouraging you feels good; in the past, people have ran away in fear. But he stays by you, even helping push the prey down your throat when you get stuck.

It's a lot, eating prey. it's a big mission. You feel your unaccustomed stomach stretch many times past it's usual capacity, it's shocking to your mind, but it happens. You feel your whole being sigh and melt as the prey sinks into your tummy. Your observer isn't quick enough to help you as you fall to the ground, unused to the new weight

He kneels beside you, saying some kind of affirmation

Do you still want to eat him? You feel the exploding fullness of your stomach. You have to breathe shallowly, because the prey is squashed against your lungs. No, this is quite enough.

He helps you up onto the couch chair that you were seated on before all this started. Now the lunch you had earlier has been completely pushed aside by this new, finer meal.

Each breath you take is difficult. Inhaling causes your stomach to just feel even tighter. You give yourself a moment to try to adjust. You will, eventually.

He's watching you lying there, apprehension still fidgeting in his eyebrows. You reach out for his hand, and you put it on top of your stomach. He smooths his hand over your skin and you can't help but wheeze.

A belly massage feels much different now. Every bit of pressure causes electricity that courses through the entire shape of your stomach, and that flows into your whole body, flushing into your limbs, and sedating you.

It's relaxing, he knows what he's doing, you can tell, with the way he dances with the contours of your abdomen. You hear him sigh with relief as you relax, as he says, "there's a good pred, just relax and digest now."

Right, you forgot. You blink your eyes open and place your hands on each side of your middle. You do have a unique ability, which is that your stomach is happy to hold the prey inside it without digesting, for a few hours at least, until it gets restless, then it will start on it's own unless you specifically resist. It's kind of lucky for you, because although you aren't great at stopping yourself from consuming prey once you get it into your head that you should, you do at least have a window of opportunity where you can reverse the decision, which is not something everyone can say for themselves.

But anyway, since you want to get this prey digested sooner rather than later, you think you should get started now. You watch the gentle movements of the prey inside your stomach. You stroke back and forth gently, and then you sigh and give your stomach permission.

Nothing happens. You frown. You look up at the observer. He doesn't seem to be aware of the situation. He notices you looking at him and tilts his head.

"My stomach doesn't want to digest," you explain

"Oh! interesting," he says. "I guess you don't have to?"

"No," you say, "I want to."

He gives you a confused look. You sigh.

"I don't know, it's being stubborn. It might take a while."

"So your stomach can like, purposefully delay digesting?"

"Yeah, I mean, look, the prey isn't really moving around at all; if I was digesting them, there'd be a lot more wriggling - you know."

"yeah, you're right." he says inquisitively, "I've never heard of this happening before."

"It's fine, it'll happen eventually."

"Alright, you can just relax then, no need to digest," he pats your stomach supportively.

He goes back to massaging your stomach, which does feel good. Your eyelids become heavy, and you yawn. He asks you if you want to go to bed; he has a spare bedroom now, you can sleep in a proper bed if you need. No, you assure him, it's alright for now. You do ask him to dim the lights though, which he does.

He presses into your belly again, kneading into the solid form inside in a uniquely pleasing manner. You can't help but grin slightly. Your predator brain is chuffed. a good belly rub is something it enjoys very much. It likes to be fed, and it likes to be attended to. You scrunch your toes. You feel warm and fuzzy. He's treating you very well.

You put your attention on the specific place where his hand glides over your skin, you follow the movements and patterns, it's like listening to music. you feel his hand on your skin, the warmth, you feel the prey pressed against the taut walls of your stomach. you think about how he is in a way, really rubbing against the prey, and your skin is just the thing between. But the idea of him rubbing on the prey, to help encourage the stomach to digest - he's rubbing against the prey to help break it down, really. He's trying to get you to digest it. He's probably using techniques that he knows will be the most effective for digestion.

For some reason, this thought is what convinces your stomach. A glowing feeling of heat starts under your skin. You groan softly. You melt deeper into the chair. A few moments later and your prey starts to get agitated. you smile as you imagine your stomach acids being released with each desperate kick against the walls of your tummy. It's ironic really. You feel a funny tickle inside, and a bit pressure that turns into a careless belch.

You had a long road ahead of you, though, suddenly you were exhausted by the task ahead.

"Oh, good for you," your observer notes, "you've started digesting haven't you?"

You grunt an mhmm.

"I think I'll get you into bed if you don't mind, to get you more comfortable."

That sounds good now, so you agree. Carefully, he guides you to your feet. You lean on him heavily, but he does alright. You feel your belly sag against your legs, and it swags gently as you walk, gurgling as the liquids are now swished around. You get to the bed, and lie down like it's the first time you've ever known the comfort of a mattress.

The observer helps put the blankets over you. "I think you could use a nap," he noticed, "but I'll be here when you wake up."

He brings you a glass of water, and turns the lights off, leaving you with your prey, which you curl up around deviously, eager to break them down for nutrients.

A part of you wants to think about the implications of this situation, and what your relationship with the observer has now become. But your predator brain hushes you and urges you into sleep. Your stomach needs it's moment to digest. You'll deal with the rest later

[gabessquishytum]

Just found this chunky werewolf boyfriend Hob drabble that I wrote ages ago, so I tidied it up and figured I'd share! Check the tags for warnings <3

When the hunger gets bad, it really gets bad.

The odd thing about it is, Hob doesn't look hungry at all. He looks distinctly overfed, if anything. He's chunky at the best of times, holding a little softness on his body to compliment the naturally thick thighs and torso. But in the week leading up to the full moon, he's constantly full of food. He simply has no choice, because he's ravenous. His skin might be stretched and red, his stomach might be throbbing in protest, but it doesn’t matter. He's still hungry. He's up several times in the night, standing in front of the pantry, looking mournfully at the depleted shelves. Over the course of the week his t-shirts start to creep upwards, unable to contain his belly. He's softer than usual – literally. Clinging to Dream, nuzzling into him, cuddling up to him. It's really quite sweet, how he'll have one hand on Dream and the other buried in a big bag of dried fruit.

Of course it's not nice to see his darling practically starving, but deep down Dream is rather fond of those weeks. He likes to rest his cheek against the stretched, hairy belly and rub the sore spots. Hob is practically throbbing with warmth, and Dream secretly appreciates the sounds of the body underneath him. He likes to see the pink stretch marks nearly appearing in front of his eyes. Frankly, he just likes being close to Hob like this.

And as hungry as he is, Hob can always make time between snacks to curl his arms around Dream. To hug and kiss him, and make appreciative noises in response to Dream’s exploring hands. His body goes through so much in the process of transformation and Dream is honoured to be the one who gets to comfort him. Hob is so gentle with him, never resting any of his increased weight on Dream’s smaller frame. He's always blushing and apologising, even though Dream reassures him as much as possible.

He's seen the excruciating process of turning from man to wolf – Hob would never hurt Dream, even at full moon. In the form of a wolf, Hob is truly massive. His body stretches out, his muscles swell and grow, and fur coats every inch of his body. He ripples with an unrecognisable lean strength, and when he stoops down to nuzzle Dream’s head, he nearly knocks him over. Of course he also whimpers and helps him to get upright again.

And when the night is over, when the moon fades and the dawn breaks, Hob will be there on the doorstep in his human form again. Utterly depleted, shaking, with a good portion of the fat on his body burned away. His waist and face are hollowed out, and Dream sometimes barely recognises the tired twink of a man he escorts into the kitchen. No matter how shocking the transformation, he always keeps his cool – it's Dream's job to bring Hob inside and feed him up again. There's always breakfast on the table after the full moon, and Hob always eats it curled up in Dream’s lap. Dream feeds him every bite of his meal, and rubs every inch of Hob’s sore body down. He appreciates his lover at every size and every stage of the cycle. And he's looking forward to another month of domestic bliss.

The hunger isn't so bad, when you're loved.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

But imagine Vesemir collecting Lambert from Random Witcher No. 8 at the bottom of the trail to Kaer Morhen, and Lambert is scarily thin. His eyes are sunken, his cheeks hollow; Vesemir can pick out the vertebrae at the top of his back as he skulks towards the wagon.

"Name's Lambert. He tried runnin' four times. Fifth time I left him up a tree with wolves sniffin' round... he soon got the message. Little bastard won't eat anythin' more than a sparrow's helping though. Doubt he'll survive the choice, let alone the grasses."

Lambert scowls, but says nothing. His eyes are dull, his lips chapped. Vesemir exchanges a few more pleasantries with his colleague, but his eyes never leave Lambert as the boy lingers by the horse. He doesn't miss the curious hand that reaches out to touch the horse's flank, darting back when the cantankerous old beast stomps one hoof. The boy's frightened, probably feeling hopeless, but he still wants to connect with the world. That's a good sign.

Vesemir loads the cart with the supplies he bought in town, and offers to help Lambert into the seat next to him. He's rebuffed with a soft growl, and the boy climbs awkwardly onto the bench.

Once he has the reins in his hands, Vesemir introduces himself. "You can call me Vesemir. No need for sir or such."

No response.

Over the coming days, Vesemir talks, hums and asks questions. He's not sure Lambert is listening, but he does it anyway. Perhaps it's as much for his own comfort and sanity as Lambert's. He learns that Lambert flinches at loud noises and watches a man's fists as much as he watches their face. When he gives Lambert food, he always offers two helpings. He doesn't need to explain why. Lambert studies him closely the first time, before carefully tucking the first bundle of jerky in his pocket and nibbling on the second. For later, for now.

The boy has nothing. No spare clothes, no boots. The weather turns as it his wont to do so late in the season, and Vesemir has to coax the boy beneath his cloak with him. The rain would give him a chill and pneumonia up here would kill him. His tiny, bony frame stops shivering after ten minutes and then something miraculous happens. The boy falls asleep. He's barely slept a handful of moments since Vesemir collected him, but now he drifts off, tucked beneath Vesemir's arm, and Vesemir can do nothing but sit and guard him.

In those first few weeks, Lambert will grow to trust Vesemir. The man that hums folksongs and talks about the uses of the weeds at the side of the road. He wonders whether there's something better at the end of the trail. He may not have had a choice in coming. He may have screamed and yelled as the witcher dragged him from his mother's arms and tried to run back to her. But for the first time in his life, Lambert feels like fate might have dealt him a favourable hand. He lets himself hope.

It makes the betrayal all the more bitter.

It's in the fires of Vesemir's betrayal, amongst the ashes of hope, that Lambert forges the rage that will be his armour.

[sleepsentry]

Un-pixeled peice + artist's notes under the cut:

⚠️CW: Discussion of digestion/eating issues. Not graphic just mentions.

This is a peice I made months ago to illustrate intense, gut wrenching, feelings of pressure and stress.

My digestion is heavily influenced by my anxiety disorder so I've had pretty terrible tummy issues my whole life. It's gotten much better these past two years as I finally finished school. It's been a big relief! ^^

I also have trouble remembering to eat and letting myself go hungry because of my executive dysfunction and sensory processing issues.

I think this captures that scraping, cavernous, tension of an empty stomach.

Something about simultaneously feeling crushed by overwhelming squishy suffocating weight and like a husk being scraped at the edges....

I'm fine btw I've been working towards getting better. I don't want to worry anyone unnecessarily. ^^

This illustration is really cool, shame I never posted it before, guesse it felt too personal back then.

[fedoraspooky]

So if Charlie's always hungry, does is hurt? :( Is he always in some state of starvation?

While most meal portions for humans are on the smaller side for him, I wouldn't say he's starving as long as he gets regular meals. Hunger's a common nagging annoyance, but not to the point of pain as long as he gets something, making it primarily only an issue in Cryptids while he's roughing it. Usually, as long as he's not missing meals or anything he can kinda just tune it out most of the time.

Yes, food affordability is an issue for him and his adoptive fam since he needs more of it, and it's probably something he struggles with for a while as an adult when he's on the hook for buying his own food on a paltry income, but while he burns through it faster it'll probably take more than eating smaller portions or skipping a few meals for him to keel over dead or anything like that. He probably learns how to make stuff on the cheap.

The main thing it affects is his energy level, which the lab was probably counting on in order to recapture him in a weakened state. Unfortunately for them, they weren't expecting anyone else to take him in and/or give him a decent, regular source of food, so :B that kinda threw a wrench in that plan. Sucks to be them I guess lol

[the-bibrarian]

Why does being hungry always makes me nauseous? My body is so stupid 🥲

[starboydreamy]

Do you ever get so hungry you’re nauseous? Like I feel sick rn like I didn’t even do it on purpose??? I can’t even eat cuz there’s no food im able to make?? Don’t even know when my parents are coming home 😭

[outoutdamnspark]

🌸(Introducing my main pokemon OC~)

Second of the Kageyama Sisters: Reina!

Birthday: January 3rd Eye Color: Black Hair Color: Dusky Blue Height: 5′4″

Current Job: Battle Cafe Barista & Trainer  (AU: Station Master’s Assistant) Family: Kana (older sister, missing); Hina (younger sister, missing) Friends: Dorian (childhood friend, missing); Raleigh (best friend, Galar) Orientation: Pandemisexual, panromantic Love Interest: Subway Master Emmet Trewyn Alt Love Interests: various mutuals’ OC

Favorite Bands:

Motionless in White

Ice Nine Kills

Dark Divine

Slaughter to Prevail

Starset

Battle Theme: ‘Cyberhex’ - Motionless in White

Team:

Ivysaur ♂️ (hardy) = “Honey” <-- [starter/partner]

Beedril ♂️ (gentle) = “Dagger”

Carnivine ♂️ (impish) = “Gingersnaps”

Heracross ♀️ (relaxed) = ”Sugar”

Decidueye ♀️ (adamant) = “Cloak” <-- [most protective]

Scolipede ♂️ (lax) = ”Cinnamon”

Leafeon ♀️ (jolly) = “Chamomile”

Backstory and further bio under the cut!

Battling Style(s):

As Battle Barista: Relaxed, playful. Is there to have fun and make sure her opponent does, too. Doesn’t pull punches, but she isn’t out for blood.

As Nomad: Utterly. Fucking. Brutal. When not in a town or city, battling is her main source of income (and in some cases, defense) so when she fights, she fights hard - though makes a point to not be cruel or antagonistic. Here to win (not bully) because her next meal depends on it.

In either situation, Reina’s philosophy is to treat each battle like a boss fight in a videogame - whether out of respect for her opponent’s skill and time, or because she has to win in order to survive. She wears an earbud in both cases, shuffling through a ‘boss battle’ playlist and choosing a song she feels is appropriate for the match. She has trained her pokemon to recognize the beat she taps out with her foot; different beats mean different songs, and different songs indicate different strategies. Ten years of this means that sometimes she doesn’t even need to call commands out loud.

===

Fun Facts:

🌿 Reina hates long pants. She has maybe one pair of jeans she can stand, but she’ll choose shorts or rompers any day.

🌿 She stims by twiddling her fingers rapidly, rubbing her fingernails against each other at different speeds for the sounds, or cracking her knuckles one at a time. She also comfort stims when stressed or afraid by singing to herself under her breath. (Ordinarily, she hates singing because she associates singing with her sisters, and feels it’s more “their thing” than it is hers.)

🌿 Reina adores plants - flowers especially - and can name dozens and dozens of them by sight alone. She has the world’s greenest thumb. (She also frequently makes her own tea blends from what she grows or forages; chamomile-lemongrass and chrysanthemum are her favorites.)

🌿 She smokes when stressed, but only about 3 or 4 cigarettes a day maximum, and never around her pokemon or other people if she can help it.

🌿 She first got into metal music when she and her sisters sneaked into a bar where a Battle of the Bands was going on.

🌿 She loves the movie Anastasia; she watched it with her sisters so much as a child that they wore out the VHS. Kana used to sing ‘Once Upon a December’ to her and Hina to help them sleep. Hina’s favorite song was ‘Journey to the Past.’

🌿 Reina hates having long fingernails and used to chew her them down to nothing. Now, she keeps them short, and only ever rarely paints them.

🌿She has two tattoos, each on the inside of one of her ankles, that she got while living with her friend Raleigh in Galar and working on a farm. Her left ankle has a ring of blue flowers, strung together with musical staff. Woven in and out of the staff, are the kanji for the words, “one more time, one more time.” On her right ankle is the thin black outline of a heart. Inside are the kanji for her sister’s names, as well as a semicolon in between.

🌿 Kana pierced both Reina and Hina’s ears with a sewing needle. (Don’t do this, y’all.)

🌿 Her favorite thing in the world is a musical called The Kids on the Bridge; she has a legitimate copy of the special collector’s edition dvd that also came with a cd of the complete original cast recording and bonus/demo tracks. She also has pirated copies of just about every other cast recording, performance, alt-cast version, tv showcase, interview, article, and promo she could get her hands on - though she sadly never got to see it in person before the stage run ended. Her celebrity crush is the composer/cowriter, who also played the narrator character in the original run. She owns no other official merch and is u  p s e t about it.

===

(CW for neglect, hunger, poverty, homelessness, depression, and mentions of attempted suicide.)

(It’s long. I’m sorry. 😭)

🌸  Reina and her sisters were born and raised in the Kanto region.

The first daughter, Kana, was the accidental product of a casual fling, resulting in a shotgun marriage that limped through a year before the new couple started hating both one another and their baby.

Reina was another unwelcome accident, born five years after Kana.

Three years after that, in a doomed attempt to “fix” their marriage, their parents tried for a third child; thus, Reina’s little brother Haku sister Hina was born. (Hina transed her gender very early on - telling her sisters she was also a girl around the age of 4.)

After that, the sisters’ parents both gave up on parenting completely and began almost entirely ignoring their kids. 

🌸 The sisters were left to raise themselves, with Kana, as the eldest, taking on the role of mother at age 8. Their parents still paid the bills but were rarely ever home; they also sometimes didn’t bother buying food for the house, so Kana took on as many odd jobs around town as she could to feed herself and her sisters. Reina helped take care of Hina, cleaned, and even cooked simple meals with whatever they had in the house. It was hard, but the sisters at least had each other.

🌸 When Reina was 12, their parents finally got a messy, bitter divorce. Their father took custody of 17-year old Kana out of spite and moved to Sinnoh, while Reina and 9-year-old Hina stayed with their mother. After the divorce, their mother almost completely stopped coming home; she also stopped paying the utilities, and only rarely remembered to buy food - sometimes she would just leave a wad of money on the counter for Reina to use for food and bills. It usually wasn’t enough.

🌸 With Kana gone, Reina took over her role. Hina helped out at home, and Reina did whatever odd jobs she could to pay bills, did other kids’ homework for food money, and resorted to shoplifting when things got dire. She even borrowed gardening books from the library and attempted to make a food garden. Exhausted, Reina’s grades plummeted, which led to her getting in trouble at school. Eventually she dropped out, lied about her age, and got a shitty part-time job.

🌸 Reina managed to secretly keep in touch with Kana, who planned on returning to Kanto as soon as she'd saved enough money. Kana was going to get her and Hina away from their mother, then take them all on their pokemon journey so they could move far away together. Reina was 14 when Kana vanished without a trace.

(Warning: mentions of attempted suicide.)

🌸 Devastated, and with no reprieve in sight, Reina tucked away as much money as she could, even stealing it from her mother when possible, and hid it for Hina to find. She stole sleeping pills from the local pharmacy, waited for a night when Hina would be out of the house, and downed nearly the entire bottle. Hina found her on the kitchen floor and ran to a neighbor for help, saving her life, but it left them both traumatized. Reina was also left with a deadly intolerance to sleep aids.

(Suicide warning end.)

🌸 Following her release from the hospital, social services were finally contacted. Rather than risk being separated, Reina (newly 16), Hina (newly 13), and their childhood friend Dorian (almost 13), ransacked the house, stole everything they could, pawned it, and then ran. They managed to start their pokemon journey together, sleeping at pokemon centers and getting odd jobs while in towns, camping and battling for money while in the wild. Rather than finishing after defeating the gyms, however, they traveled on to Johto, then made their way up to Sinnoh. All the while, Reina continued to study plants when she could, and foraged or planted when able.

🌸 For three years they were happy. Then one night, while in Sinnoh, Reina went into a nearby town to buy food while Hina and Dorian set up camp. When Reina came back, they were gone - vanished the same way Kana had years before.

(Warning: final mention of attempted suicide.)

🌸 Reina stayed in Sinnoh for another year in hopes of either her sister and friend returning, or that whatever took them would take her, too. When neither happened, Reina, now 19, went to the river cutting through the city she was staying in, camped out under the bridge, and then waited until nightfall to walk into the water until it swept her away. She woke up in the hospital, having been spotted and pulled to safety by an unknown passerby.

🌸 While in the hospital, Reina watched a tv performance of the musical, The Kids on the Bridge, and it immediately became her lifelong special interest, giving her something to hold onto to keep her from spiraling again.

(The musical itself is about the spirits of four teenagers, haunting the train bridge where they jumped to their deaths and acting as benevolent guardians to prevent anyone else from sharing their fate. One of them, the narrator, watches over his still-living best friend, trying to help him overcome his grief and to move foreward. Another living teen is also watched over, struggling with their identity and inability to connect with others. In the end, both living teens find solace in one another, choosing to live, and thus freeing the spirits of the titular Kids on the Bridge.)

(Final suicide warning end.)

🌸  For the next near-decade, Reina would continue to live as a nomad, traveling across Sinnoh, then over to Galar (where she met a farmhand named Raleigh, who became her friend, coworker, and roommate for over a year), then finally, to Unova. She lived as she did while journeying with Hina and Dorian, and eventually made her way to Nimbasa around the age of 27, finding a job as a barista and trainer in a battle cafe. She even managed to find a small apartment within her means and finally, finally began to try and move foreward.

🌸 The plan had been to possibly move back to Galar with Raleigh a year or so down the line, but those plans were derailed upon meting a smiling man in white one night as he stopped in for coffee while Reina was on closing shift...

(Reina X Emmet gardenshipping details here.)

[zouzab]

[book 1 + slight show s1e1 - s1e3 spoilers]

It Was Always The Plan.

—

It had to be believable, that’s what they told him. They worked the plan into his scrawny little frame, until he knew and believed in it with every fiber of his being.

It had to be believable, to the last detail, and so he was starved till the brink of death. He clutched his burning abdomen, staring with wide, wet eyes as they sealed the crate, and sent him to Skree.

It was always the plan.

That didn’t mean he wanted to do this anymore than Oskar. Knife in shaky fingers, Zouzab lunged for the throat.

[teal-fiend]

there's a pred imprisoned, in solitary confinement permanently because of the danger they've caused to society.

after a long career of evading authorities, and eating very well, the pred had made a mistake, and ended up caught.

unfortunately, they are valuable due to the information that they have (either through their knowledge in their field, or because of a criminal situation they were involved with).

the pred is however, still social and charismatic, even after they've been found out. They will always make conversation with the guards, who were hostile at first, but after a year or two, they get used to him, and start to enjoy talking to the pred. However, both parties know what would happen if the glass between them were ever to disappear. If the pred jokes about them letting him out, the guards will assure them that there's no way in hell that will ever happen.

they are interviewed by a prey who isn't smart like the guards are, in that they have come to fully believe that the pred isn't really that bad of a person. It's in their nature to eat prey anyway, can you really blame them? and they're so nice! And smart - they aren't a criminal.

The interviewer has never seen what the pred has done. They have never seen the pred eat, they've never seen the pred with a full stomach - in fact, for the months that the prey has known him, the pred has not been able to consume prey. He probably hasn't for as long as he's been in prison. poor thing.

because despite being friendly and gentle, the pred doesn't look good, they look starved. They hold their body stiffly and on some rare occasions their happy veneer drops and there is a desperate look in their eye.

the guards worry about the prey who has so obviously fallen for the pred's cover. Despite knowing the fact about who they are, the prey doesn't absorb the fact that the pred is a sadist and a monster. And if they weren't locked in a cage, the pred would definitely have the prey in their stomach by now.

[loving-ricciardo]

I’m hungry :/

[mitchelf-citadel]

Weeping Scope

Why is that boy crying?

Certified Termina Moment

Fear and Hunger: Termina

[awetfrog]

my party are starving when there are perfectly good ghouls around, are they stupid?

[drfrankensteinvsthequeerborgs]

I don’t know who came up with Cas just straight-up eating toothpaste but I hope they’re having a lovely day

[foxdoodles]

“you believe me like a god / i’ll destroy you like i am”

— i’m your man, Mitski

[obscurecrows]

whoooooos hungryyyyy???