#to be clear: I am not superstitious myself

[zinziinziiin]

[most-sane-tsukasa-fan]

𝕱𝖚𝖊𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝕱𝖑𝖆𝖒𝖊

CW: OOC, Mentions of violence, Slight gore, Yandere themse, Half-demon!reader

Raised in a uptight superstitious village, [Name] is no stranger to being treated like an animal. They were feared and threatened by the villagers that they would get burned and stoned if they ever come back. No village accepts a half-blood like them, especially a blood that's cursed.

Name wonders in the middle of nowhere and beg for people to take them in ever since the day they were banished from their own home.

As the world have treated them in such an inhumane and merciless way, they thought they would do the same for the world, resorting in violence and theft just to get what they need, what they have been begging for... untill someone gave them the comfortable home they've been waiting for, a roof over their head that isn't something they gained from cutting off people's heads...

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Tsukasa, a fine young gentleman, the young lad took the half-blood to his own home where a big shrine sits beside it atop a mountain. He found them passed out in the middle of the forest one night and decided to take the poor soul into a comfortable place, despite sensing something dangerous about them.

He sets their unconscious body down carefully on a soft mattress, the room is quite big and offers more than enough comfort for the visitor. Tsukasa lights the lanterns on the walls of the room for light and to make the room warmer.

The sudden aroma of candles and unfamiliar scent of someone woke up [Name], out of instinct they jumped at Tsukasa to attack but Tsukasa was quick to dodge

"Ah-ah! That's not how you treat your host

We have not exchanged names yet this is how you're treating me!?"

The young man exclaimed as if he's scolding a dog, a few beads of sweat rolls down his chin as the demon he saved tried to attack him. After a second of recomposing himself, he clears his throat to start talking again.

"Ahem, my apologies, I have lost myself there

No matter, I am Tenma Tsukasa, one of the last surviving dragons out there and you shall treat me with respect!"

[Name] just looks at Tsukasa with a doubtful expression before snickering at him, thinking he is merely talking nonsense.

"Oh yeah? Do you know what I am, 'dragon'?"

[Name] says cockily, although Tsukasa only shook his head with a bewildered and curious expression.

They were about to boast it out although something stopped them... will Tsukasa still let them stay if they tell him what they are? Then again Tsukasa did say something stupid as telling them he's a so-called 'dragon' but... would it be good to tell him they're a half-demon?

"Then... you don't need to know"

[Name] dismisses, deciding not to say and see where this will go if he did not say, after all it could only cause trouble for him if he lets it out.

"Wait wha-"

"Lizard, I'm hungry"

[Name] cuts Tsukasa off before he could even speak to ask, earning a groan and an annoyed look from the boy at that nickname they gave him.

"Do not call me such a name!"

He exclaimed angrily but still went to the kitchen to serve some food for his guest. His sulky and comedically prideful attitude earns a chuckle from [Name], it's been a while they ever did even cracked a small smile on their lips.

A part of [Name] wanted to just leave Tsukasa, having second thoughts if they should trust him but... who are they going to trust? Who will be there with them?

Questions spiral around their head but it didn't take long for Tsukasa to come back with the leftover food.

"Here, the only food left are the ones people offer on the shrine

Go ahead, take your fill"

Tsukasa placed the bowl of what seems to be bread and diced fruits, it may not be much but [Name] hasn't had a proper food in weeks. They did not even hesitate to chow the bread down, it never tasted this good before but that's just the effect of having to eat on the wasted food on the ground.

Tsukasa's expression softens in sympathy, he pities them honestly. He watched as they enjoy each bite of a simple bread, snapping from his thoughts when he realized he forgot about their introduction.

"Right, what is your name?"

"... [Name]"

[Name] visibly hesitated at first, yet they felt comfortable enough now to mention their name while munching on the food, muffling them a bit as they speak.

"Hey, don't speak when your mouth is full"

Tsukasa softly scolds them, though he doesn't care much about it, after all he understands their hunger...

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Time has passed and [Name] has spent all of that with Tsukasa. Days turned into week, weeks turned into months, each waking second [Name] waits for the time when Tsukasa will either ask them out or just kick them out himself... yet he never did.

He encouraged them staying, he took care of them back to health. Tsukasa has served them food, gave them a roof over their head, their own space in his own home, even bathed them despite the two of them being flustered about it, though Tsukasa is the one that insisted cleaning [Name] as he does it more 'properly'.

The more time they spent with each other, the more [Name] realized... Tsukasa is all they ever wanted. Someone to trust, someone to be with... someone who they care for and someone who possibly care for them the same way.

Tsukasa has not been awful, he never was, his words are true but never hurts like the words [Name] is accustomed to... They wonder when can they be that truthful and tell Tsukasa about their half-blood.

They couldn't believe they would be thinking of Tsukasa this much... in all honesty Tsukasa has made them the happiest they've ever been in-

"Hey! Are you listening?"

[Name] was snapped out of their thoughts when Tsukasa dragged them back to reality with that loud voice of his. They blinked a couple of times before waking themselves back to awareness to answer

"Yeah yeah, what was that again Lizard?

"I told you not to call me that! *sigh* that's besides the point

I'll be leaving to town as I said, I need to get food for us"

[Name] nods and hums in acknowledgement and Tsukasa grabbed his empty bag that he'll put the groceries in. All of a sudden, [Name] had this guy feeling in them that kicked them, grabbing Tsukasa by the wrist.

Tsukasa only stared back at them confused.

"Uhm... come back early"

They said, it is the only thing they could think of to say. Tsukasa chuckled at that, feeling his ego boost a bit knowing [Name] is concerned for him.

"Awh, you miss me before I even leave

Don't worry, I'll come back to you as quick as possible!"

Tsukasa says, his tone a bit teasing and [Name] could only mutter a quiet and flustered "shut up". Tsukasa giggles, he was about to leave but stopped himself.

He hesitantly gave [Name] a faint kiss on their forehead before saying a hurried "good bye" and immediately left before [Name] could even react.

[Name] stood there just out of the front door... dumbfounded and caught off guard by Tsukasa's sudden boldness. They touched the part of their forehead that he kissed, their lips unconsciously tug up into a faint smile...

Unbeknownst to the two... someone isn't so far, watching them at the time...

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While Tsukasa is walking through the woods to get back home, the forest is already dark despite it not being so late in the night. No light seeps through the trees, not even one person on sight... or at least that's what Tsukasa thinks.

He walks and walks, he already knows the forest like the back of his hand and he's extra careful if there's any wild lives wandering around.

Tsukasa was focused on getting back home quickly to [Name] that he didn't feel the presence behind him

"One must not live, if they engage with a cursed blood..."

The strange person, a villager from [Name]'s old home, mutters as they ready their blade. The person puts the edge of the blade against Tsukasa's nape but they didn't even get to penetrate it through his neck when suddenly...

Tsukasa wasn't even nervous when he felt something as sharp as a sword put right against him, but he was surprised when that feeling of a blade is gone now. He turned to face what's behind him but... there's nothing.

A bit bewildered and annoyed, he just continues with his journey back home...

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It wasn't that long of a walk, he was so excited to see [Name] again that he ran up the mountain to the minka he and [Name] are living together in.

Expecting to see [Name] waiting for him eagerly there, he was instead greeted by... blood, lots of blood all over the floor, and that trail of blood leads to [Name] who is eating a whole human, tearing its flesh one by one.

As soon as the sliding doors opened, [Name] froze in place as they look up at Tsukasa in shock, they couldn't see his expression but only his silhouette as it is so dark. Their horns that they were hiding all this time are now out and even their black wings that looks like it was skinned.

They sat there, too afraid to defend themselves as they were caught red handed... what would happen now? would Tsukasa tell? would he abandon them? would he be scared?

"Tsukasa... it's not-"

"What are you?"

They were cut off by the boy, although it's understandable for him to ask that, he's oddly calm in this situation... they're almost hesitant to say.

"A... demon

But I didn't want you to know, I just did what I did since it tried to hurt you and-"

Tsukasa walks up to them, for some reason the closer he gets the more... unfamiliar his silhouette becomes. Once he was close enough to the point he's just in front of [Name], he kneels down at their level and cups their cheek, their faces are so close to each other that they could feel each other's hot breaths.

"Do you think I would tell you about what I am if I didn't know?"

[Name] was confused at first, until they put two and two together, realizing that Tsukasa never lied... all this time he thought Tsukasa was a normal young man, and there it is... they could see it now even in the dark, his horns and long dragon tail.

They couldn't move, absolutely enchanted and all their focus is how close they are right now with Tsukasa, completely forgetting and abandoning about the body he brought here for his meal.

They couldn't help but smile, their eyes so lovesick as they gaze at Tsukasa.

Tsukasa smirks at how entranced they seem, responding to their lovesick gaze by leaning in, both their lips meeting and locking in each other. Their mouths were soft, it's like a new experience for the two... it's romantically messed up.

But that's what love is right? It just drives them crazy, it makes the blood in your body heat up like it's fueling with flames♡

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A/N: Sorry it's kinda bad, I lost my writing skills 😭

[drivin-down-i-20]

I don’t really know how to start this kind of thing off so I guess I’ll just introduce myself? I don’t want to get too personal, for reasons that I’m sure you’ll come to understand later, but I can at least tell you my job. I’m an employee of my state’s Highway Patrol. I’m not a cop or anything like that; I clean up accidents.

Semis, mostly. I’m part of a crew that is responsible for the section of I-20 that cuts across my state. We get calls mostly at night, so we’re all night owls, perpetually sipping caffeine in one form or another. Except for that one guy, but he’s a whole story all by himself.

I’ve seen some of the most horrific accidents you can imagine. Cattle trailers overturned. Sleeping truckers. Spills. And I’d like to tell a few stories if that’s okay. I’ve never believed that people living and working in places where secrets are kept is a good idea. Especially when those secrets are kept by those who are supposed to protect them. This is the “I’m sure you’ll understand why later part.” This is a throwaway account and it’ll be deactivated when I’m through with these stories. In the meantime, feel free to shoot me any questions you’ve got. Asks. Whatever. I figure Tumblr isn’t as… monitored as Reddit so maybe I’ll be okay. Just. Spread it around yeah? Protect your people. Help them protect themselves.

I’ve never been a superstitious or conspiracy type person. I was raised hand to mouth and didn’t really have time to think about any of that. I did go to church. Mama made all of us go. I loved lessons in Sunday School about the great heroes in the Bible. David. Moses. Samson. Superheroes of the Bible the old woman who was my teacher called them.

As I got older though, I realized they were just men. People. David was a murderer, murdered a friend to steal his wife. Moses was a murderer, but I’ll be honest, I’d have done what he did too. Samson got himself in an entire bind over a woman. They weren’t to be idolized. They were to be learned from.

Guess this is what my first story’s like. Learn something from it. Maybe.

It doesn’t snow much where I am. Instead, we get the ice. Yeah that real good pipe-busting, road-slicking ice. It’s not every year, heck we get balmy Florida sun as many winters as we get ice, but it can happen.

Couple years back there was an ice storm that put the bits of the state that were affected on a screeching halt. No school, no stores open, nothing. So everybody stayed real snuggled and safe at home until the thaw. Which was the next day. Everywhere was just soggy with it. The grass squelched under your feet.

A “side-effect” of this thaw was heavy fog. There was a man, husband, dad of two, minister in a local church, who was on his way to prayer early that morning. He was in a hurry so he was doing what everyone else does on a hectic morning: speeding.

Ah hush you know you do it. And sometimes, it’s okay to do. Keeping up with the flow of traffic and all that. Dude had his high beams up. It was just another day.

Until he ploughed into the back of a parked schoolbus at top speed. Doubt the guy knew what hit him.

Wasn’t anything anybody could do for him.

The bus was higher than his vehicle so most of what happened to the bus, happened to the undercarriage. The kids were scared and some were a little scratched and banged up, but they were all okay. Liked to have scared the poor driver clear to death, though.

The man in a hurry had already be taken away when we got there. People don’t really like to think about what happens to a body when it dies. Releasing the soul is kind of how I think on it. You don’t realize how many muscles and tendons are contracting right now, holding you together. When you die, it all relaxes. Yeah you go through rigor mortis, but that’s only after.

Your bowels release. Your bladder releases. If you were in an accident like this man, your veins let go. And what your body was working so hard to contain, it leaves. And it’s everywhere. All that hurrying and anxiety to get where he was going, it stayed behind too. With his wife and his kids. And it haunted them. You know it did. You know they asked themselves how they might’ve stopped that day from happening. What if Daddy had just waited a few minutes? The bus would’ve moved on, the fog might’ve lessened. And he’d still be there.

So take it from me, who’s had to hose my fair share of the refuse of hurrying and impatience off the asphalt, both of sinner and saint, being late is still being alive.

Sorry for the heavy start, but it’s the nature of my job. I’ll go in a different direction with the next one. Not all of them involve death and tragedy. We got a call to a clean up about 4:30 one morning for a semi overturn. Fella had rounded down a turn-off, coming down an overpass and cut too sharp. Whole trailer flopped over. She was hauling, wait for it, soap. Dawn. Oh my God. It was. Everywhere. Smelled great. But good sweet Lord. We got our big, coarse bristle brushes to try and sweep it into some tarps, trying to keep it from poisoning wildlife or the ecosystem, but it just made it all suds up. Bubbles. Everywhere. And then the wind got to blowing. It was a mess. Even once we got to just hosing it, it was like something out of a cartoon. But I still laugh about that one though with the guys. We might’ve frolicked through them like slow motion princesses and taken pictures. They’re in my blackmail folder just in case.

This crew’s been together the longest of any one I’ve been on. Folks usually get tired of it and want to move on to something less strenuous. Which I get. It’s not for everyone. But I like it. Keeps the bills paid. You know. I’m not unhappy. And I get sweet overtime.

Me and this older guy are the old hands. Let’s call him Jake. Jake’s older than me and I guess you could call him the foreman. But it doesn’t really work like that. He just knows what to do for most incidents and we listen. Experience is valuable.

Jake and I started working together when I moved to this crew about seven years ago. I’d been town cleanup for a bit but it was so boring. So I put my application in through the DOT, Department of Transportation, and got hired. Got a raise too. I was over the moon. I’ve always been one to feel more awake at night and Jake was the same. Guess maybe that article I read somewhere about evolution conditioning some of us to stay up and tend the fire in the night is true. Feels like it.

I’m rambling.

We got a early morning call, pre-dawn. There usually aren’t that many vehicles on the road that aren’t semis at that time of day. We’d been working on our gear, making sure it was all ready to go. Takes a lot of stuff to do this job. We drive a high-powered diesel wrecker for one with a trailer, in case of big debris. We also have kits that range from everything from corrosive chemical spills to bodily waste removal. Special containers, neutralizers, discrete disposal units, all that stuff. So you have to keep all that useful. Make sure it’s not past the expiration and so on. When we’re not on a job, that’s what we do.

So we got a call out and headed out. There were about ten of us, me and Jake in The Big’un, that’s what we called the wrecker, and then the rest took DOT-provided pickups. You’ve probably seen them. Got the emergency strobes and flags on them.

The first thing I noticed was the smoke. Thick and white, just hanging in the air. FD was already there but they weren’t working on the truck. They were trying to put out what had spread over to the trees. It was a dry year and the woods were parched kindling; everything in a 200 yard radius of that truck was already cinders. The semi had pulled over and was just resting on the side of the road. PD had already blocked off as much of the road as they could to allow some traffic through, though there really wasn’t much.

The trailer had caught fire, that much was very obvious. Whatever had been inside must’ve not been secured properly and had flopped around, fallen over and either made a spark or reacted with another chemical. Whatever it’d been was hot burning too. The driver had been taken to the hospital already for third degree burns. Which was the first odd thing, when I thought about it later. The driver’s cab was fine. Scorched a bit on the back but fine. All the fire damage had been pointing away from it, toward the doors of the trailer.

I remember Jake, who was usually very reserved and placid, booming out orders to tow the trailer away from the original sight a bit. And I was glad too. The flames that were down in the woods were so bright and so hot. We wore sunglasses in the dark, trying to protect our eyes, and the heat was so bad that we were treated for mild burns to our faces and hands afterward. I had a beard then; I shaved it the next day because patches were burnt clean off.

We didn’t stay long. There weren’t any chemicals to clean up, just hauling the ruined trailer away to give the FD room to put that fire out.

When you work this kind of job, you end up seeing the same folks at the same event, you know? Jake was having some coffee when we got back to the call our office the next day. He’d had a haircut, a bad one. And his face was all blistered like he’d been at Daytona for a week. We all slathered up for a while after that to keep from getting ashy and peeling too bad. Jake looks like something out of a Viking movie. The Avengers Thor guy wishes.

“Everything okay?” he finally asked me, in that deep thunder voice he’s got.

“Shoot man, yeah. But crispy… Did they get the fire out?”

Jake nodded. “I know a bunch of them guys. Talked to ‘em this morning. Lot of ‘em out today with arc-eye and burns all over ‘em. Said the driver didn’t make it.”

That stunned me. “Didn’t make it? But the cab was fine!”

Jake had arched a confirming eyebrow.

I didn’t know what arc-eye was, but I googled it later. It’s what happens when welders don’t wear proper protection on their eyes. Looking at the arc like that can lead to severe irritation of the eye and even blindness in some cases.

“Said he died of severe internal trauma and heat-related injuries. Insides were cooked until they burst. Guy’s eyes were clouded white from the heat. Said it took a flyover all the way from Texas to finally put all of the fire out. They had it contained but their guys kept passing out from heat exhaustion.”

I remember being so staggered by this. And I remember looking for news about it later because that was really something. But I never did see any.

And I remember breaking that trailer down. How it was still hot. How the doors had been bent outward, the lock melted solid. How the fire trailed away. In a straight line.

Jake watched me as we worked. The way his eyes rested on me… it was like he was waiting for something. When we got the doors off, he’d taken his gloved hand and run his fingers through the grooves, elbowing me so I’d look at what he was doing.

It still feels so stupid to think this. Because who does this? Who makes this connection? It makes me feel crazy but it. It happened. The grooves weren’t melt patterns, like slag. They were claw marks. Pushed through the metal and ripped backward. Curled like paper. Peeled almost.

I’ve never said out loud what it looked like to me. But Jake made me put my fingers in those grooves. Curve my hand around that metal. Feel what it felt like. Feel the warmth living in that metal. And we looked at each other for a long time, not saying a word. Jake knew and I knew. And that seemed to be all he wanted. For me to know.

I thought about what else Jake had said about the driver. His friend in the FD had been pretty disturbed and had talked to him a while. Jake’s that kind of guy. You can talk to him. Something about him makes it easy for people. Comforting.

“FD lady said the man was screaming when they got to him. Burn victims do that, yeah, but she said he grabbed hold of them and wouldn’t let go. Had to pry him loose. Kept saying “seen” over and over. Y’know sometimes when the body’s been traumatized so bad, the mind can’t handle it. He was scared, though. The pain was bad but he was so scared that he just wanted someone to hold him.”

Sorry if the ending here is abrupt but…? That’s all I got for now. I have to get ready for work, and I’ve been thinking about maybe asking Jake if he’s ever seen anything else like that night. We’ve been on some other calls together but he’s been at this for nigh unto twenty years. We’ll see.

[harleyquilts-fanfic]

Bloodied Lips (TouKen/KaneTou fanfic)

Summary: A TouKen Vampire Au for @toukenweek, where Kaneki is saved by a mysterious stranger after being attacked by a vampiric being one night.

Words: 4203~

Notes: I'm a lil late for the Vampire Au, but I hope this contribution still counts! This was an au I had a strange amount of fun with, though I guess it's because it's so similar to TG itself. Anyway, I hope y'all enjoy!

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Kaneki was never religious, nor did he believe in any kind of God or Devil. In the past, he would offer a prayer or two at a shrine during New Years, though these ‘prayers’ were nothing more than brief moments of reflection and hope for the future. Prayer was nothing more than a traditional obligation, though he would not go as far as to say such things aloud. It was easy, then, to see the supernatural as nothing more than a fantasy conjured up in the minds of humanity’s superstitious ancestors. 

Even so, whenever he came across a ghost or ghoul in one of his many novels, he found himself unnerved and discomforted by their presence. He was not afraid, per se, but there was something unsettling about these monsters as they hunted their prey in human forms. And when these victims are cornered and forced to face their devourers, their humanity would shed away and their monstrous bodies would emerge. Large fangs that protruded from their hanging jaws, sunken eyes that emitted a reddish glow, and their elongated limbs that stretched into gnarled claws. They’d lean in close and feed on the human’s fear as they confront the unavoidable finality of their painful deaths. It was a fear Kaneki never wanted to experience, even if he knew such monsters were nothing more than fiction. 

Kaneki shut his book as he finished another chapter from Takatsuki’s most recent work. He nodded approvingly and took a sip from his coffee, his eyes glancing towards the time. He was supposed to meet Hide, but it would seem that he was running late. Kaneki shrugged and checked his phone, seeing a message from Hide telling him that he has another delivery to make before he can finish his shift. Placing his phone aside, he took another sip and opened his book again, eager to continue onto the next chapter. 

“Oh my,” Kaneki hears a woman say, followed by a lighthearted giggle. “Is that Takatsuki’s new novel?”

Looking up, Kaneki’s eyes meet a stranger standing by his table - a woman with long, silky hair, pale skin, plump lips, and eyes with long, thick eyelashes and a deep, violet colour. She was also dressed in a long-sleeved dress that hugged her hourglass figure, a cardigan draped over her shoulders. With her glasses, posture, and the soft humour in her expression, along with the smoothness of her voice, there was an erotic sophistication to her that immediately left Kaneki breathless. He gulped and felt his cheeks become warm at the sight of this stranger, and he nodded shakily, showing her the cover. 

“Oh, I love Takatsuki!” She clapped her hands together and grinned. “And this new novel - what do you think?” 

“W-Well–” Kaneki, flustered, scratches the back of his head as he struggles to decide where to look. “Like a-all of t-their works, it surprises m-me how unique their s-stories are.” He cringes as he continues to stutter over his words and he offers an uneven smile, his ears hot. “I am always i-impressed by their d-dark imagination.” 

“I know! I feel the same way.” The stranger then flinches and playfully knocks on her head with an apologetic smile. “Ah, how rude of me. I should introduce myself first.” She offers him a small bow, her hair falling forward. Kaneki gulps again as he smells the woman’s sweet aroma. “My name is Rize Kamishiro.”

Rize. Rize Kamishiro. Her name, spoken with the soothing caress of her voice, lingers in his mind while he clears his throat. “My name is Ken Kaneki.” His heart flutters wildly against his chest. “It is a pleasure to meet you.” 

“Oh, no no.” She giggles, like a musical chime. “The pleasure is all mine.”

From behind the counter, Touka glares as she catches Rize watching and smirking at her from the corner of her eye. 

He’s mine. 

. . .

Kaneki gasps and writhes on the ground, gripping his neck. Blood drips over his scuffed knuckles and down his arm. Red stains begin to spread down his white, torn sleeves, with droplets dripping down onto the ground below. He gasps again and crawls forward, an intense burning sensation coursing through his veins. Rize watches him from a small distance away, blood streaks across her cheeks and dripping from her reddened lips. She slowly licks her lips, lapping up the blood, and grins, with fangs protruding from her upper lip. Kaneki continues to crawl at a slow pace and from behind, he can hear Rize’s footsteps as she quickly closes in on him. 

“My, Kaneki, what a pathetic sight you are.” She giggles, pressing a finger against her chin and tilting her head to one side. “Keep crawling. Cry out in pain. Give me more to feed on.”

She then leans forward and grabs his scalp with her sharpened nails, pulling him up so that he can see the red shimmer in her eyes and the narrowing of her pupils. Kaneki winces and struggles vainly against her grip, his legs too weak to carry his weight. She throws her head back and laughs, slamming him onto the ground and straddling his back. There is a ringing in his ears as his body falls limp against her weight.

“Humans are so laughably weak.” She continues, her lips brushing against his ear. He can hear the dangerous sharpness in her voice. “So naive, so clumsy. It was almost too easy to catch you on my web.” She leans back for a moment, her hand still holding onto his head. “You’d make an excellent thrall. Perhaps I’ll make you my slave.” She laughs again and Kaneki wheezes against the cold ground. She shakes her head, smiling. “It’s tempting, but my appetite would never allow it. No worries, sweetie, you should be proud you even made it this far.”

She twists his head to one side and exposes his bloodied neck. Revealing her enlarged fangs once again, she leans forward for one final bite. Kaneki shuts his tired eyes, his ears flooded with the sound of his racing heart. 

It was then that he felt Rize's grip loosen, the weight on his back lifted. Cracking one eye open, he hears Rize’s muffled screams behind him, along with the scuffle of footsteps and the collision of bodies. And then there was a sudden silence. Kaneki shut his eyes again and heard someone walk towards him, and he silently hoped that it was his mysterious saviour. Or perhaps it’s another monster, Kaneki thought to himself, wanting to laugh at his misfortune. 

A hand is pressed against his cheek and then below his nose before being drawn back again. His body, now weak and frail, is turned onto his back, and he winces as the streetlight above shines over him. He opens his heavy eyelids and squints, the person standing over him a dark shadow against the light. 

“What–” A wheezy cough escapes him as he tries to speak, the taste of iron coating his mouth. “Who are you?” He murmurs.

“The venom is already taking effect, I don’t know if I can suck it back out in time.” The stranger, who sounded like a woman, knelt down to his side and turned his neck so that Rize’s bite was facing him. “This will hurt for a moment. Just…rest for a while.”

And with that, she leans down and sinks her teeth over the bite wound. Kaneki flinches and weakly raises an arm to push her off, but she places a hand onto his chest and pushes him back onto the ground. He feels the blood being sucked away from his body and a warmth begins to spread from the wound until it starts to become a burning heat. And as he groaned against the pain, his body grew limp once again and his thoughts faded into a blank nothingness of unconsciousness. 

The woman, Touka, opens her mouth and pulls away, a line of blood falling away between her lips and his skin. Wiping her mouth, she checks his pulse. A slow, steady heartbeat. She sighs and presses her palm against his forehead, which was still slick with a cold sweat. His temperature seemed relatively cold, though it was difficult to make any judgments after being attacked in the middle of the street at night. It would be best to take him somewhere safe, she decided and she stood back up, licking the blood off her hand. 

A small distance away, Rize’s body convulsed as the blood continued to trickle away from the slice across her neck. Such a wound wouldn’t kill her - Touka knew this - but it would be a while before she fully healed from so much blood loss. Touka hoped that she would use that time to rethink her future hunts before playing with her food. 

“Right,” she looked back down at the young man she had seen earlier and she nudged him with her foot. “What should I do now…”

. . . 

Kaneki was haunted by a stream of nightmarish dreams of being chased down alleyway after alleyway, with some being deadends, and others to narrower alleys that Kaneki forced himself to squeeze through. All the while, he heard Rize’s wicked laughter following him from behind, taunting him with words that seemed to cut into his skin and slow him down. Still, he desperately pushed onwards, even if he knew there was no escape from her predacious gaze. 

And then, finally, he awoke with a gasp. He blinked through the tears in his eyes and they rolled down his cheeks, which were already damp with sweat. He rubbed his eyes and tried to sit up, only to find that his body was much too heavy and his energy very much depleted. He tried again, pushing himself up with his elbows, and he whimpered as his body protested with sudden shocks of twisting pain. His arms trembled while he looked around, Kaneki breathing heavily. He was in a dark room he did not recognise, though it seemed like a basement of sorts. His bed, which seemed to be a camping cot, was pushed to the corner of the room, a desk with an old computer in front of his bed, a sofa against the back wall, and a stack of different boxes to its side. The walls and floors were grey concrete slabs and there was only one light hanging above. 

Leaning back, he then notices an I.V drip to his side and lifting his hand, he sees the needle taped on. Gasping, he then reaches for his neck, which was covered with a gauze and medical tape pressed tightly around. There must have been some kind of painkiller in the I.V, since he couldn’t feel any sort of pain when pressing the wound. But then why does my body ache so much, he wonders and he leans to his side with a grimace. What happened that night, he continues to think to himself, was all of that real? Rize, a vampiric beast, and a good samaritan who intervened. What happened afterwards - Kaneki is less certain of. There’s so much to consider, so many questions that needed answers, but even so, Kaneki could only think of the exhaustion that was washing over his body and threatening to drag him back into the realm of sleep. 

When he opened his eyes once again, the room was lit up with a dim light and a blurred figure stood a small distance away with their back facing him. He winced and reached up to rub the sleep from his eyes, and hearing him, the stranger looked over their shoulder and turned to him. He wanted to sit up and ask them a plethora of unanswered questions, but fatigue weighed heavily against his body and he found himself fighting to keep his eyes open. 

“Are you awake?” The stranger asked, their voice muffled in his ears. He gave them a weary nod. “I want to make sure you have something to eat before you fall back to sleep again.” They knelt beside his cot and held up a plastic bottle with a straw and held it to his lips. He couldn’t see what was inside the drink, but the pain of hunger urged him to take a sip before he could muster the strength to ask. “Drink. It’ll give you your strength back.”

Taking a sip, his mouth was coated with a thick, sweet-tasting liquid that washed away the dryness in his throat. The more he drank, the warmer he felt, and he wondered if he was drinking some kind of soup. It was a nice thought, and an even nicer gesture, he pondered as he continued to drink, remembering the days his mother would feed him freshly made miso soup or porridge whenever he was sick. 

Finishing the drink, he leaned back and looked up to the ceiling, his vision now clear and his hearing sharp. He licked his lips, savouring the sweet taste of the beverage the stranger offered, before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He held it up and noticed a streak of red against his pale skin. He frowned and turned his head towards the stranger, who continued to kneel beside him.

He saw, then, that the stranger was a young woman with black, bob-length hair, her long fringe partially hiding her face, and blue, round eyes that watched him steadily. Her skin seemed all the more pale against her dark hair and dim lighting, as if she were a porcelain doll. It reminded him of Rize, in a way. Right…Rize. He wanted to tell himself that Rize, whatever she may be, was nothing more than a nightmare - a shadow that could do him no harm in the real world. And yet, that fact that he was here, wherever this place may be, was proof enough that something had happened. What exactly that was, he was not confident to say with certainty. For all he knew, the vampirisin he became victim to was nothing more than his mind trying to make sense of whatever had happened that night. Needless to say, he felt that his memories were left in a tangled mess, and the more he tried to make sense of it all, the harder it was to distinguish reality from fiction. 

“Who are you?” He decided to ask first, lowering his hand. The stranger stood up and placed the nearly empty bottle aside, frowning. “Where are we? Why…” He paused, then, taken aback by a sudden realisation. “Why am I not in the hospital? Why take me here?”

“Hold on. I’ll answer your questions.” She grimaced and rubbed the back of her head, muttering to herself. “Let me just…” Her eyes wander as her voice trails off. “Let me change your I.V bag first. Wait here.” 

Kaneki was about to protest with increased urgency, before remembering that he was in the home of this stranger. A basement, even, from what he could see. This stranger may have saved him, if his memories were anything to go on, but he could not say for sure that he was any safer in the hands of this stranger than he was with Rize. Perhaps that was too harsh, he thought for a moment, as the girl gently examined the needle in his hand and unhooked the nearly empty bag of fluids. Still, it was his lack of caution that caused this whole situation in the first place - he could not afford to be careless a second time. And so, as he watched the stranger climb back up the basement stairs, he slowly climbed out from his cot and followed behind. 

His body was not exactly cooperative with his first attempt to move. His knees buckled beneath him and he held onto the desk beside him to hold him up. However, he found that some of his strength gradually returned with each small step he took, and with a deep breath, he forced himself forward. His limbs continued to shake and shudder at first and Kaneki bit his lip to hold back his small cries of pain. He squeezed his eyes shut and breathed heavily through his nose, silently telling himself to make less noise.

Reaching the stairs, he let out another breath as he leaned against the steps and felt the sweat roll down the back of his neck. There was a voice at the back of his head urging him to return to the bed before he was found out, and still, in his panicked state, he kept pushing himself to go further in hopes that, this time, he would succeed in his attempt to escape.

The door on top of the stairs had been partially shut, but not locked, and he stared intently through the gap in the doorway. The thudding of his heart filled his ears as he watched and waited with some distress for the girl to return. But when he reached the top of the stairs, he was quick to slip through the gap and take in his surroundings; it was a regular, plain hallway, with the stairs to the upper floors to his right, and opposite that, a shut door to another room; to his left was what he could only assume was the front door between two archways facing each other. He gulped and crept towards the door, cringing at each slight creak in the floorboards. But he managed to make his way to the door without being caught, and grabbing the door handle, he turned it slowly and prayed that it was somehow unlocked. And as if God had answered his prayers, the door clicked open and Kaneki found himself smiling with great relief as he swung the door open. 

And just as his body was flooded with the warm glow of the evening sun, he found himself struck with a burning sensation that painfully prickled his skin like a spray of acid that trickled over the entirety of his body. He threw his arms up to shield his face and he stumbled back, crying out in pain. Squeezing his eyes shut, he heard the door close and felt immediate relief with the sudden darkness, like a cool breeze had drifted over his blistering wounds. He fell onto his knees, panting, as he let this sensation wash over him. 

“I told you to wait.” Hearing her voice, Kaneki froze, his heart skipping a beat. He slowly looked back and saw the girl standing behind him, holding an I.V bag in her hand. She looked down at him with eyes that now glimmered with a deep red colour. His mouth felt dry as he stuttered out a weak excuse, glancing between her and her hand which was now squeezing the bag. 

“I-I’m sorry.” He stammered with a weak voice. “I was– I panicked.”

She shuts her eyes and heaves out a heavy sigh before placing the bag to one side. She steps forward and Kaneki flinches, pushing himself back against the wall behind him, and he hears the girl click her tongue. Kneeling down, she reaches forward and gently places her hands onto his cheeks, much to his surprise. He tenses up as she brushes her fingers over his skin, carefully moving his head to one side and then to the other as she examines him carefully with her eyes. His eyes widen when he notices that they have now returned to their previously blue colour. He feels his cheeks become warm as she moves even closer to him, suddenly enveloped with her surprisingly floral fragrance. With a slight frown, she leans back and then squeezes his cheeks between her finger and thumb, her eyes narrowed. 

“Um…” Kaneki's voice was muffled as he tried to squeeze out a question. “What are you–”

“Quiet.” She lets go with a small push and brushes back her fringe, rubbing the back of her neck. Standing, she sighs again. “Well, I guess there’s no denying it, but…” She shakes her head and holds out her hand for Kaneki to take, which he does with some hesitance. “I did tell you to wait.”

“I’m sorry, I…” He frowns, then, and looks down at his hands, rubbing his skin with sudden urgency. “What happened? Just a minute ago, it felt like my skin was burning. But looking at it now…” His voice trails away as he examines his arms and touches his neck and face, looking between himself and the door. His eyes then meet the girl’s watchful gaze, and he silently pleads for some answers. Her expression remains unreadable while she watches him slowly piece things together. “Does this have anything to do with Rize? Was what happened that night real?”

“Yes.” She nods. “I tried my best to take the venom out, but it seems it still had some effect on you.”

“Venom? What venom? Am I sick?”

“In a sense.” She tilts her chin up, crossing her arms. “Vampirism. Have you heard of it before?”

He stares at her blankly, and then incredulously. “Are you calling me a vampire? No, that’s–” He paces away from her, his hands clenched together. Images of Rize, the vivid memory of Rize biting into his neck, and the stranger leaning in to do the same - they all flood through his mind at once and he shakes his throbbing head. “Vampire…That’s…no, that can’t be. I…I need to go. I need to find Hide.”

“I can’t allow that. Not yet. It’s too dangerous and–”

“Are you…sick, too?”

His voice was small, but cold, a quivering fear laced between his words. She presses her lips together and nods, and she watches his shoulders drop as he stares deep into her eyes, trying to fathom her entire being within a single, brief moment. She seemed normal enough, he thought, and yet…and yet…

“Why did you bring me here?” He finally asked and the girl looked away for a moment.

“It would have been inconvenient for me if anyone else found you and Rize. That’s all.”

Kaneki lowered his head, not entirely sure what he expected. She had saved his life - he knew that much already. A part of him wanted to show her his gratitude, but his gratitude was overshadowed by the frightening revelation that now consumed his thoughts, like a parasite ready to burst in his skull. He wanted to tear it away, to be rid of all this, and yet, with each passing second, he realised that this was his new reality, whether he liked it or not. 

“How long will I have to stay here?” He asked in a murmur. 

“I don’t know. That will depend on you. I’ll be sure to help you through the new changes the best I can. To be completely honest, I don’t even know just how much of a vampire you really are, though maybe you’re still changing in your physiology. It might be taking longer because only a small amount of venom was ingested into your bloodstream.” Her voice trails off for a moment as she mulls over her thoughts. “We’ll see. But first, I need to make something very clear to you.”

She steps forward then, and Kaneki freezes as she grabs his shoulder with a firm grip, her eyes locked onto his. With his focus on her, his heart begins to quicken while she continues to speak. 

“Like I said before, vampirism is a sickness that must be kept hidden from the public at all costs. I can explain the details later. Just understand that, from now on, the person you were before - a college student, a childhood friend, a loving son - that person no longer exists. They are dead to the world now. Do you understand?”

“Dead?”

She nods, her grip tightening. “Yes. Dead. It is imperative that you know that. That you understand what that means. I’m not just saying this for mine, or even for your sake. If you cherish the people you love, you will keep those ties cut and exist as a nobody while you learn to adjust to the venom. If you cannot do that, or if you refuse to heed my advice,” Her eyes narrow then, her next words spoken with a fearsome finality. “I will not hesitate to kill you.”

A growing dread begins to rise up from Kaneki’s stomach, his legs suddenly weak once again. Still, his eyes remain on hers, and with tears threatening to fall from his eyes, he nods. 

“I understand.” 

“Good.” She loosens her hold on him and lowers her eyes, but keeps her hand on his shoulder for a moment longer before pulling away with a strained silence. “Good.” She repeats, her voice wavering. “Let’s go back down. You need more rest.”

Kaneki wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, sniffling as he follows the girl back down the stairs to the basement. She pauses for a moment before taking the last step, and without turning back to him, she quickly mutters something. 

“My name is Touka, by the way. Touka Kirishima.”

She continues to walk into the room and Kaneki wipes his sore eyes again with a wry smile. “My name’s Ken Kaneki.”

[workin-knots]

Methods of Working

After giving myself some time to reflect, I feel called to share a few opinions and methods of bewitchment. Sharing a bit about myself in order to shed light on how I ~get things done~, a lot of my craft comes from the forces and spirits I commune with. The other chunk comes from my family and culture. I was raised in a rather superstitious family with a knack for removing the evil-eye and divination. I work as a card reader and I’ve seen spirits since I can remember. I was always terrified but so interested in witchcraft from the stories my Vovó would tell me when I was little, but I only had access to Barnes and Noble growing up and this led me to explore Wicca at a very young age. This caused me to question my Catholic background and re-evaluate my relationship with divinity. As I grew into my adolescence, I made friends with witches my age online and was introduced to traditional witchcraft. I mean after that, I fell back in love with my culture and the paradigm of spirit work it held. It was definitely an experience pacting with Ol’ Horny in the woods when I was in middle school, my naive nature led me to pay a costly price, but I was given my first familiar in high school. (I had a LOT of fun being a teen witch, high school was the perfect setting to make people fall in love, cause fights, bewitching bathroom mirrors to trade bad breakouts for someone’s fair complexion, threading rumors through other’s lips, bewitching a basket of apples for good grades and leaving them in the teacher’s lounge, my only real regret was doing curse work for other people; they all want something bad to happen till it does.) After high school I moved a little ways out from my family’s house but lived close enough to the woods to frequent whenever I pleased. It became clear that I had to adjust to the spirits of the land I was living in despite not having as much forest and privacy as I had growing up; I had to adjust, and that’s just what I did.

That being said, I’ve felt called to share a few methods on bewitching the forces that work against us. I recently lost my neck of the woods to some developers, the very woods that turned me into what I am today. Mourning can’t even describe what process this is. A feral emptiness. A void in the pit of my stomach that churns with the rage of a forest. Even though I’m well acquainted with the crab-apple tree and yew bush across the street, even though I was led to a hollow stump before the graveyard gates down the block, this land is different from the one that lit my flame. Perhaps I’m getting lost in yearning for what was (I definitely am).

When it comes to bewitchment, or the act of bewitching, one only needs to look through the eyes of the victim(s). Who is closest to this person? Is said victim protected magically? How can I bind the force that keeps me from working my wicked will onto this person if they are protected? What renders the victim powerless and distracted? The sound of disappointment in their mother’s voice? The absence of a loved one? Do they have any pets? The presence of a rival that unnerves them? Maybe the gaze of their own reflection in a mirror? Divination would serve obviously well but maybe concealing and sending an imp in a baked good or treat would work wonders in obtaining some information (but one could also use this to bewitch and possess your victim just as easily). If you can’t gift your victim anything, I would recommend getting close enough to bewitch things they would use. Mirrors, cars, keys, anything you might have to share with them; paperwork, doors, utensils, places they frequent; their property, place of work, etc. For politicians and money making pigs; you may effect things more severely if you take/work something in proximity of their headquarters/land they govern.

For spells that involve stealing/turning of one’s fortune, in my experience; the seduction of the victim, in one form or another, aids greatly in the performance of the spell. For example, to get a wealthy politician to trade his luck, (after you have rendered this man vulnerable to your art) seduce the force that gives him sway; send yourself or an imp in the dead of night in the guise of something he would fetishize and give him a kiss. If you want to go a different route, go in the guise of a gambler or a business partner who bears good news but not without a handshake. Otherwise you’re more likely to just deal misfortune instead of reaping their fortune. The difference is in the approach; instead of hunting for a vulnerability, tempt their strength.

What’s the deal with making sure my victims have no protections? Why shouldn’t I just outright curse and cast blindly? Because I’ve done it before and it made me all the more wiser. Even when you think your victim to have no protection, the act of disempowering their defenses and setting their guard(s) adrift is an underrated aspect of witching we don’t really talk that much on. This isn’t to say one should stop giving the evil eye and using their art against people when they see fit, it’s why we have charms for counter magic sent back at us. But when you want to gain more than teaching a lesson, understand that if you are stealing something valuable, the road needs to stay open on both ends if things are to be done efficiently.

[witch-hazels-musings]

Absence makes the heart grow fonder - or so people say. Diluc disliked such expressions, they tend to get repeated so often that the superstitious belief they carry is reinforced with nothing substantial to prove it. Superstition has no place in his life.

And yet...

It's true that he felt things around him change in Hazel's absence. The chatter in the tavern got on his nerves without her voice interjecting here and there, he found himself stupidly handing over clean glasses to a hand that wasn't there to take them, announcing closing time to someone who wasn't there to hear. He'd grown to accept Hazel as part of his routine when it became clear to him that his admiration ran deeper than he initially thought, but he never imagined that she had left such an imprint.

And now...where is she?

Surely somewhere in the Liyuean mountains, grazing the geo archon's soil with her grace. Her smile, drawing sunshine upon her. The breeze caressing her hair with the care of a lover. Oh, how foolish. Even he had fallen prone to prose of all things. He had no intention of becoming a poet, but it seemed Hazel pulled more words out of him than he ever imagined himself speaking. He scoffed, imagining himself dressed like the 'almighty' Barbatos, serenading her with a harp. His methods of approaching her were far from optimal, but Diluc would gladly pass up on such embarrassment - for the both of them.

Besides, Hazel deserved more. More than he could offer, for starters. Ah, there it is. The part where he picks on his own flaws. Hours upon hours ignoring everything around him was bound to stir the corner of his mind that didn't feel good enough for his loyal employee. And truly, what did he have to offer? Hazel was not one to be bought and he was not one to buy feelings. Could she truly be happy with an emotionally stunted man for whom even compliments were hard to give?

Maybe he should put it all to rest. Be honest with her once and for all, endure the rejection and-

"...luc?"

And now he hears voices. Was his heart not enough? Had Hazel stolen his sanity as well?

"Master Diluc!"

His head whipped up. He could not hide his shock in time, to his embarrassment.

"Hazel...?"

His voiced sounded foreign to himself, too soft and timid. Where had he found the audacity to even think about confessing in that state?

"I apologize for startling you. You seemed very lost in thought..."

"No matter. Has your trip gone smoothly?"

"Liyue is fascinating. The plants, the monuments...it's unlike anything I've ever seen! But I couldn't see myself adapting to the harbor. I was lucky to find myself a room in this beautiful inn by the river. And how was the week, sir?"

...It had only been a week?

Diluc Ragnvindr, you really are hopeless.

I don't know who you are, and it's okay if you don't wish to tell me, but you have to know just how meaningful these little gifts you give me are.

I really wish you could understand the way my heart feels when I read this. That you can grasp, even the slightest, how unbelievably moved I am when these come my way.

You don't have to do this, so I am honored and thankful that you've sent me something as kind as this.

Bless this moment - in space and time - that I get to be on the receiving end of you're absolute kindness.

Thank you, kind stranger, internet friend. Beautiful, lovely person.

Thank you

[snickerdoodlles]

i said i was gonna ask about 3 so I am, I simply must know. plus 2 of them are so personal to me they’re basically freebies so yknow 🤷‍♀️

knitter pran thots (bc it’s me so obviously)

soft boi lies (bc that was me! i said that! im legally required to see the fruits of my random rambling)

CODE CRQCKED LIVING LARGE (bc it’s probably the one I have the least clue what it is lol 😂)

one of these days im going to have to hold myself back from telling you about a WIP just so that I can actually surprise you with a totally new idea 🤣

'knitter pran thots' is ofc specifically for u, even though i will probably ask you for help in coming up with a knitting pun for the title lol. its about the shape of Pat and Pran's love and how invested they are right from when they start to date. the starting snippet:

Paa always tells Pat he gets too invested, too quick when it comes to his relationships. Pat's not sure why she bothers—he can’t help it that he loves so quickly, so largely, so loudly—but there are times when he wonders what she might say about him and Pran and the shape of their love. Pran, who’s always been Pat’s largest and longest investment, whose mere presence is its own gravity for Pat.

Pran loves to knit. He likes the way the stitches clear his mind, the way the yarn slips soft over his fingers, the satisfaction of a project borne before his eyes. It’s something he shyly tucks away from others into the hidden corners of his room, his feelings tied to yarn hidden the same as all his others, only recently revealed to Pat during their last movie night. It takes gratuitous application of his puppy eyes and pleading questions, but Pran soon begins to bloom the more he tells Pat about his favorite yarns and tricky patterns. 

Like always, Pat dives in head first and deep. His search history is a dictionary of knitting terms, his online carts are filled with yarns and needles and patterns. Eventually he even finds his ways over to the forum boards, where several aunties and cousins are delighted to aid his quest in learning more about his boyfriend’s favorite hobby.

and then Pat's going to learn about the boyfriend sweater curse. he's not superstitious, per se, just also vvvvvvvv wary of ever being considered Pran's bad luck jinx again :C and Pran's going to gently take his face and be like "the boyfriend curse is only a problem for people in mediocre relationships. the knitter spends a lot of time and money making a mediocre guy a sweater that he doesn't ever appreciate, then the knitter realizes they don't have to settle for someone half-assing a relationship, and a breakup follows because their relationship already had issues that the sweater issue exposed. but i don't have to worry about that, because you're a sticky nuisance i've had my whole life. now, i have three patterns to modify for your stupidly huge shoulders, so stop squirming or i will tie you up 😤"

and Pat's like 🥺 owh, this is our forever 🥰 and everything is soft and happy

soft boy lies is HERE and brb, currently laughing over how i'd left off some of the smuttier WIP titles yet the first 2 asks were about the filthiest WIP on the list ajfhjf (i'll finish a smut fic one of these days I SWEAR, they're just stupidly long orz)

akdfjk you actually know about 'CODE CRQCKED LIVING LARGE', i just have a wonky title!!! it's the fic about bby!Pran & Pat inspired by that time my mom taught me how to forge her signature when i was seven !! the doc has that title because i've actually had this story idea since before episode 6, i just hated the way it was coming out and had finally moved the WIP to the discard pile a few weeks ago. but talking to you about it finally got the wheels turning, so i started a new doc to rewrite the old mess it used to be 😂

gonna try to summarize this idea for ppl outside our DMs, but basically my mom taught me how to sign her signature when i was seven as a 'fuck you' to a teacher that made me cry. so im projecting that experience onto Pran. then Dissaya thinks it'd be hilarious to send her lil bby out to sign for a delivery for her, so Pran and Chai go to inspect a delivery and bby!Pran v carefully inspects a like. hardware delivery or whatever next to a straight-faced Chai before signing Dissaya's name for the order while the big burly delivery guys look on v bemused

but Pat sees Pran doing that and he puffs up because he wants to do Big Important Grownup Stuff too!!!! but Ming doesn't get why Pat's trying to insist on being there for a delivery and after the last time when Pat got underfoot for a lumber delivery and nearly squished, Ming's not going to let him anywhere dangerous. so he sits Pat down in his office to stay there, bby Pat's like 😤 fine, i shall do OTHER Important Grownup Stuff!!!!

and scribbles all over Ming's paperwork because he is the Best Helper

its not until Ming comes back to fetch Pat that Pat stops to think "wait i should've asked first D:" and he and Ming just kinda. stare at each other for a hot minute before Ming suddenly doubles over and starts laughing. like shit, his kid just created a week's worth of work and sleepless nights to fix this mess, but by god is his son the cutest and sweetest kid??? he laughs about it the whole way home and thru trying to explain it to his wife, and the next week he gets Pat his own lil hardhat and clipboard so Pat can follow the store workers around and do Big Important Grownup Stuff. mind you, Pat doesn't actually know what he's supposed to do with this stuff, so he mostly follows a worker around for a little bit drawing dinosaurs or stick figures and giving the doodles to the store workers when their tasks are finished. these doodles are coveted by the workers, he is their favorite kid in the world

still working out the ending, but it's gonna be Pat & Pran post-Singapore return hearing these childhood stories from the senior employees and they're both simultaneously delighted & horrified because on one hand, childhood stories that they didn't previously have full context for, but on the other, "why do you all even still remember this, pls stop giving my boyfriend blackmail fodder 😭"

[[ WIP ask game ]]

[bluefurcape]

Hi! I'm a big fan of your work and am in the process of trying to revive a very old hobby of writing my own fanfics. I would love to hear what your process of writing is like. How do you go from an idea to a story line? How do you deal when you reread what you've written and think, wow, that is some lengthy exposition/dialogue/etc there? I have reached out to a couple authors in the community with the same questions so no worries if you aren't able to get to it!

Really cool of tumblr not to let me know when I get a message <3

Thanks for reaching out! I hope that things are going well with your writing.

Idea >> Story

I'm going to be pretty honest, I don't get a lot of ideas these days. I have this superstitious theory that my brain shuts off the ability if I watch TV/Movies with plot in it, but I can't resist watching so it's been a dry spell of like most of this year. This week though I did manage to stop so I finally managed to snag something. It was near the tail end of sleeping so I laid there twitching like a dreaming dog while I thought about it in a half alive state.

Anyway! That's not really your question. If I do get an idea, it's usually the scraps of something that appeals to me. I play around with what comes to me first. For example, if I think of a piece of internalization, then I work around that. The first line of "Marked By Fate" where Kakashi hates a baby was what came into my head and from there I went to what it would be like if you feared your own soulmate (for ethical reasons). The recent idea I had was more of a setting that appealed to me (hint: a type of store) and not too much more except that with most of my fics it does have a 'goal' in mind of a romantic ending. But that is a type of framework, loose as it is, so I started thinking about the story circle which is a highly reduced version of the hero's journey. The steps don't make total sense to me all the time so I have to re-explain it to myself, but the basic circle goes:

you, need, go, search, find, give, return, changed.

"need" is often actually two things: an external goal and internal need (of like a "lesson" to be learned)

Not always, but many readers find satisfaction from a story where the character changes, so sometimes it is easier to work backwards. With a romance story, if the 'goal' is for them to accept love, generally then, how are they rejecting or missing love in the beginning? Etc etc

No need to put a lot of pressure on it in the beginning though because sometimes, you only can see the full picture after you come to the end (and you go on your own hero's journey).

2. Editing

This is the point where I go from big to small. I think more critically of the flow of the overall story (going back to the story circle...sometimes) and usually if the character arc is not clear enough, that is what I attack first. Then it's down to the actual sentences. I look at each to see what filler words can be taken out ('had' is a big culprit for me) and repetitive descriptions and verbal tags. The way I test exposition is if I'm using it like a time saver/skip to cut out boring shit or if I'm avoiding writing something that is important to show the character arc. Dialogue is a bit trickier, but I think a lot of people use filler stuff that we say naturally but doesn't work well in a narrative work where it needs to serve some sort of purpose (character or plot). Like I often will be tempted to write people going "good morning" a lot and just doing stupid small talk lol.

(secret 3rd question)

If I think about this all too much I get way too in my head about it. My suggestion is to digest it and then forget about it. Write what you want to write. Look back with an editor's eye later.

edit: as ppl can see in this mostly unedited post i have a terrible tendency to repeat the same words in a sentence (i was abt to write same sentence) so that shit has to get weeded out

[eris-anansi]

“A Fear of Spiders Runs in the Family"

CW: Arachnophobia, death of a loved one, disturbing imagery

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

My father was always terribly afraid of spiders. His grandfather had the same fear of arachnids as well and claims that his father also possessed it. It was when I was only a little girl that we discovered that I inherited my father’s phobia. I remember being eight years old, venturing into the basement and being attacked by a giant brown spider. In reality, the spider didn’t attack me at all- it just fell on me and my soul nearly liberated itself from my mortal body.

I am now fifteen years old and the sight of a spider still has the same effect on me that it had all those years ago, and if anything it brings back horrific memories. It’s always been unexplainable; there was just something about those eight-legged demons that awakened a primal fear within me. They are the bane of my existence. I always wondered where this fear, that seemed to be passed down from generation to generation, came from.

I specifically remember a story that grandpa told us about our hereditary arachnophobia. As the legend goes, one of our old

ancestors incited the wrath of the goddess Athena and she placed a curse on our bloodline. Ever since then, we have been plagued with an irrational fear and hatred of spiders. But of course, this was only a legend and he made that quite clear. Grandpa was never a superstitious man.

Unlike father.

Father believed many things.

He even built a shrine to Athena out of what he denies to be fear. My late mother, on the other hand, saw Grandpa’s story as purely fictional and some way of explaining in a less simple manner what would rather be a mere scientific phenomenon.

She passed away about a year ago. My father didn’t handle it well at first, as you could imagine. He seemed empty, as if he had lost his very will to exist. I watched the poor man wither away for days on end, not knowing what I could possibly do to help him through it. Of course, I myself was also struggling to grasp the idea of never seeing my mother again.

However, after a week or two, he seemed to come back to life.

I was happy that he had begun feeling better but at the same time, it all seemed a bit sudden. At first, I thought he met someone, but I quickly realized that wasn’t the case. If it were, he would’ve been going out more; but nowadays he spends most of his free time in the basement, keeping the door locked, telling me never to come down there. The last time I tried to ask him why he quickly changed the subject. I decided that it was best not to question him.

He had just come up from the basement muttering something in Greek; our native tongue. I couldn’t quite tell what he said between the fact that it was practically a whisper and that I’m still learning the language myself. If I had to take a guess, though, it sounded almost like he was asking for forgiveness. I watched him make his way upstairs unaware of my presence and once he was out of sight, my eyes drifted steadily toward the basement door which he had conveniently left open.

The temptation was too great. I had to see what he’s been hiding from me all this time.

I stood up and slowly made my way toward the door, careful not to make even the slightest noise.

Once I was inside, a sense of dread fell over me when I noticed a cobweb on the ceiling. I soon remembered why I used to avoid the basement.

I continued further down the narrow staircase, all the while keeping my eyes peeled for any sign of my mortal enemies. The room was dark, which only added to my anxiety, and it smelt like death. I scolded myself for not bringing a flashlight.

I made careful steps as my eyes adjusted to the darkness and I could make out where the pillars and walls were. Something about the basement reminded me of the inside of an ancient Greek temple, though much smaller of course. My stomach shrunk when I saw something small scramble up the wall in front of me. I took a step back and another small blur went up the wall, its legs carrying it to the ceiling where it disappeared from my sight.

I glanced to the floor and barely held back a visceral shriek. My skin crawled like mad, I wanted to leave my body then and there. Astral project as far as I possibly could, but I was trapped down here with the things I saw in front of me.

Several- No, dozens of albino arachnids were crawling along the floor only inches away from where I was standing, all of them seemed to be in a rush to escape the floor and migrate to the ceiling. What really got to me me was their size; they were bigger than any spider I ever had the displeasure of encountering, and I didn’t recognize the species. My eyes followed the spiders as they made their journey from the floor to above, where things only got worse. I saw an even bigger spider hanging from the ceiling directly above me.

Wait...

No, something wasn't right.

The longer I looked, the longer I realized that it wasn’t a spider at all. Was it? It had human features but- the arms. The arms were all wrong.

There were six of them; three on each side of the body. They looked more like the limbs of a massive hairless spider, ending with sharp hooks perfect for impaling unsuspecting prey. Prey about my size. My heart sank.

The creature wore an iron helmet adorned with a crown of horns, which gave even more definition to their eyes. There were eight of them- devoid of all life and blinking one at a time, one after the other. And then there was its mouth, full of teeth that were strangely human, coated in something too thick to be saliva. It possessed the body of a human woman, though the abnormally pale skin appeared to be smoother- almost like silk. She just stayed there on the ceiling, not moving a single muscle, in some kind of upside-down spider walk like something out of The Exorcist. Despite all of this, something about this ungodly creature felt familiar to me. I could feel my eyes watering at the realization as she began to speak, or at least, she tried to.

All that came out were a series of clicks and hisses that only reinforced the reality of the situation I was in.

She finally uttered a single word in a low, hiss of a voice.

“Delia...” she softly whispered.

I ran as fast as I could- scrambling up the stairs and rushing through the door into the living room.

I met my father at the stairs, who ran up and hugged me. I was in tears at this point, crying into his vest.

“I told you not to go down there,” he said. His voice was comforting rather than stern. “Why didn’t you just listen to me?” he asked with desperation in his voice.

I struggled to form a sentence through the tears, “How long-” I started, “how long has she been…” I trailed off.

Deep down, I already knew the answer. It all made sense now. Everything came together like one big, ugly puzzle.

“Did you do this?” I felt a sudden rush of anger as I looked up at my father.

He slowly shook his head, “I found her like that... down there, behind the boxes.” He choked back tears, “I swear to God, I was going to tell you… I was just waiting for the right time….” He held me tighter, allowing the tears to flow down from his eyes.

I managed to smile, “It’s okay...” I tried my best to speak calmly, though I sounded like I was trying to convince myself more than anything.

“She’s here now- and that’s all that matters. That she’s here with us… and she’s not going to leave us again.”

[starsmuserainbow]

Some randomly chosen questions for a selection of my muses answered from this meme because I want to! Sorted more or less randomly, though I started with the muses I feel the strongest these days.

For Lightning, I'm gonna answer:

🪄 MAGIC WAND — would you describe yourself as a superstitious person (someone who believes in superstitions)? do you believe in luck? "Yeah right. No, I'm very much not superstitious. And if luck exists, it tends to be against me, so I don't really care to bother thinking if I should believe in it or not."

(and bc that was too short for my liking, another one for her:)

🌙 CRESCENT MOON — what would you say is your current biggest dream and/or career aspiration and why? "It would be really amazing to become one of these well-known, absolutely capable and powerful heroes. It's not like I do what I do for the attention or fame, but it's still a cool thing to imagine that people would recognize and look up to me, and stuff."

---

For Mia, I'm gonna answer:

🧪 TEST TUBE — if you knew you were going to die tomorrow, what is one thing you absolutely have to resolve and/or do before then? "Wow. Pretty grave thing to ask, wouldn't you say?" Mia paused for a little bit as she pondered the hypothetical situation. "I think I'd try what I can to still do some good. For unique people, or better yet for whole groups. No idea what that would be though, so if I'd suddenly be hit with this news, I guess I'd just be, like, patrolling the streets and trying to prevent crimes more like the actual heroes do."

---

For Moonshot, I'm gonna answer:

🤔 THINKING FACE — what three emotions tend to dominate your mindset? do you know why they do? "Anger. Confidence. Pride. They do because they are the most beneficial and important emotions to have as a tamaranean warrior." [[In not his words, it's more because of all of his experiences in the past and how he's more or less defining himself through his pride as a warrior and how he's always going to see Tamaran and Tamaraneans as the absolute best there is.]]

---

For Kage, I'm gonna answer:

🖤 BLACK HEART — what would you say is the darkest thought you’ve ever experienced? what do you think caused you to have that thought? have you ever planned on or fantasized about acting on it? "Dark thoughts are all I work with. Did you forget I kill for money? I doubt you can go much darker and colder than that." She was silent for a moment, not really wanting to continue elaborating. There were certain thoughts in her past that were somewhat darker, more gruesome, than others, but she was not willing to explain all of this so she just added a 'why' to be done with it. "It is all that life gave to me that caused this. And I have often acted on it before - as I said, it's what I do for money."

(and bc that was a lame answer, another one:)

⚡️ LIGHTNING BOLT — how has [significant event in muse’s life] impacted you? what has it made you realize about yourself? about others? about the world? "I'm not gonna explain what that event was. Be happy I answer at all." Kage grimaced at having to answer it. "It shattered the whole new life I had thought I was building. Again destroying everything I had. On the ruins, I built the life I have now, and what it made me realize is that I will not listen to or trust my heart ever again. It made clear that no one is ever to be trusted, and that that is how the world works. Everyone will betray anyone else at some point, it's better to just never trust in the first place."

---

For Cat, I'm gonna answer:

🎨 ARTIST PALETTE— what are some hobbies that you like to partake in? do you think they’re just to pass time or to distract yourself, or do you believe some of them potentially have therapeutic outcomes for you? "I very much enjoy reading books that tell a story. It helps me blend out my ability when I am able to immerse myself in a fantastic story of being someone else or joining someone on a fictional adventure. I also play the violin, the sound of it is just very soothing and calming to me."

---

For Galfore, I'm gonna answer:

🫂 PEOPLE HUGGING — generally speaking, do you feel very supported by the people in your life? how strong and cohesive is your support system, if you have one? do you often feel like you’re at the front of the line or pushed to the side by the people in your life? Galfore was silent for a little bit. "It is not my role to be supported. I am the one to support the people in my life., and I am satisfied with that." He did have his time of being supported, and it was only right to give back on that now.

[brunhielda]

Having a weird moment where I have to contemplate the real possibility that Halloween could be canceled this year because of a mass shooting event in a town a few hours away.

Reasons being a) the shooter has not been caught, could flee in this direction, and being mentally unstable, start up again, and b) all local first responders are helping with the manhunt and other issues surrounding that event, so if something major of any sort goes wrong here we are screwed.

You know, the older I get, the more I catch myself having thoughts not unlike the mayor from Jaws and I gotta check it. Like “We don’t KNOW anything bad will happen, do we really want to traumatize kids by taking their holiday away?” And then it’s like- “My dude, if something DOES go wrong, that will be WAY more traumatizing than skipping a Halloween.”

Which leads me to think about how Halloween would be such a weirdly aesthetic target, like Halloween is supposed to be scary, but not that type of scary. It’s supposed to be the spooky unknowable horror scary, not knowable trauma scary, you know?

This leads me to the plot of a new horror flick:

It’s Halloween. Characters could be any age from 12-102, honestly, a mix of strangers and family members thrown together could be fun.

At first, you got some vaguely spooky stuff going on. Light enough for the characters to think it could be pranks- light enough to convince us it is pranks. Nevertheless, is creeping people out, making the more superstitious think something is up.

As the story goes on, people end up dead. Either unknown or unlikeable characters at first, moving towards people the audience enjoys. It slowly becomes clear that it is a real flesh and blood mad man on the loose.

Eventually, someone goes “but what about that creepy stuff earlier?”

“What about it? It’s Halloween and we creeped ourselves out. We got more important things to worry about.”

We, as audience invested in the story moving forward, agree, maybe even laugh at the genre joke.

Main characters manage to stay ahead of crazed killer, perhaps even injuring him a few times, but he keeps coming.

Eventually, what does him in is not the main characters, but, a la “Jurassic Park,” a bigger predator we were worried about earlier.

Out of the shadows comes the FEY.

“Do you know what Halloween is? It’s the one day a year I get to scare the shit out of mortals without anyone asking questions. It’s the day I pretend to be 12 for a couple hours and get showered in sweets. If I’m lucky, there’s more than one bar open all night, with hot mortal ladies in barely any costume, fully prepared for a freaky night of pleasure they get to pass off as a good story later. You RUINED my favorite night of the year. You could have picked any other night, but you picked THIS one. Well now you get to find out- you’re not the reason they fear the dark, I AM.”

Bonus points if it’s a dismissible side character from earlier we thought was dead.

I just think the blending of horror tropes and the play with the older traditions of the holiday would be fun and interesting.

Also, much like the T-Rex ending from Jurassic Park, there would be something so satisfying about watching something we are truly frightened of be torn to shreds by an old spooky nightmare.

It was a satisfying thought to me, anyway.

[maguro13-2]

Legacy of Shinra ~ Origins of the Ink Demon Chapter 1 Pt.2

[Fishing Vibes - Tomoya Ohtani]

[Cellphone ringing]

Kimial Diehl : (answers the phone) Ohayou-gozaimasu! (Clears throat) Hello, Ashley! Yep, I just got off from work in Massachusetts! Hey, I heard that both companies Square and Enix are going to merge into one company on April fool's day! Yeah, it's a holiday for pranks and stuff, I know it's the day that these two companies are going to merge into one. So that's where I am heading to after finding the Gorgon Sisters is such a pain. This new series by Ohkubo is going to be debuted once the merger is a success. I'll meet up with one of the Characters named Geno. Okay then, so about that incident in New York--

[phone Beeping]

Kimial Diehl : Great, hang up by disconnecting, huh? That's okay, I'll meet her up in about a year or two. Or probably I'll meet up her at Salem one day. Now let's see here. (Looks at the map) It should be around here somewhere. What street this merger's located? Eastside Square of Shinjuku. [Stops and thinks for a moment] Well, this is Eastside Square and i'm in Shinjuku, then the merger should be right...[turns and sees the Square Enix building in front of her] here. Huh, this must be the place.

(scene slides)

Cloud Strife : Hey, you must be new here. The name's Cloud Strife. Welcome to our newly merged company, "Square-Enix".

Sora : Where we companies of two merges and fused together into one company to become a success! Not to mention the spoils for myself!

Cloud Strife : Right. We are a merged company that make games and manga coming to join forces together, but the author of Fullmetal Alchemist had this planned out for the merger. Now you wouldn't happened to be...

Maka : Maka...Maka Albarn.

Cloud Strife : You're new here?

Maka : Yes, I am new here.

Sora : Let me give you a quick look of your passport.

Maka : Actually I have two passports. (Shows two of her passports; one is Japan and the other is U.S)

Sora : Since when did you started living in America?

Maka : Umm, probably in San Francisco I think?

Sora : Seems fair enough.

Cloud Strife : Hey, wait a sec. You're...

[Leonard's Past - Masamichi Amano]

Cloud Strife : [in mind] So that's her. That's the one whose mother has been spreading truth to the world. Makami. Just what on earth are your involvements with the Kusakabe anyway?

(Cloud reached out to Maka, but Sora firmly hand shakes her)

Sora : It is a pleasure of you joining our company. Welcome!

Maka : Ah, yes, a nice pleasure of being here. I don't mind if would be popular enough bringing me here to be that famous. If that's what I meant

Sora : Nonsense! You're welcome of being here! You just got to meet and make new friends in the company. And I heard you're great at athletic skills at school! Since when did you become so skillful to join Square Enix.

Maka : To make myself a trust worthy scythe wielder, I learned this from someone that is a scythewielder.

Sora : Really who?

Maka : You don't want to know.

Cloud Strife : I Hope you didn't get that from legendary martial artists like Son Goku, he's a Shounen Protag. You see, Shounens are demographics manga that are targeted for boys only. Every Shounen hero is a boy or a girl, but you, uhh, you could be on the other hand as being capable of fitting into a Shounen Manga. You hadn't given to any chances to be the main character.

Sora : I think it would rather to be giving you a headstart of becoming a Shounen Protag or you'll just be like one of them Shoujo mangas.

Cloud Strife : Kagome was already a Shounen Protag.

Sora : Well, the Gangan Editors did say that they chosen her as the Shounen Protag, but I'm not thinking that your author is making you the Shounen Protag. (Sighs) It shouldn't been a Shounen male protag by now. Come on, I'll take you where Edward is in the Manga section. (The two walks off to the right)

Maka : Right! Lead the way.

Cloud Strife [v/o] : Just what's she superstitious about after not hearing the truth from her Mother. It's best that there's something fishy bout Ohkubo's new series or the mysterious Ohkuboverse itself. Wonder what's the point of making her a Shounen "Hero"? It might be lucky that this friendship of ours might be the clue of her whereabouts. To think that you, Maka Albarn, a girl who couldn't face the truth told by your own mother. And you must face it.

Truth : Unfortunately, it shall be the one that will unravel the secrets of the Ohkuboverse and this time, Real World AU will be safe and sound from the king of all lies. The person who gave all those from the Ohkuboverse, is Shinra Kusakabe!

~ First Scene : FORGING A FRIENDSHIP ~

[srivas]

🎉💙🔮

🎉  — When is your muse’s birthday? Is there a special meaning behind the date for you (the mun)?

Stevie's birthday is April 9, 1994; nothing too incredibly special behind the date. It's the same date as a former friend-aversary for someone that's not really in my life anymore, so of course, after hallmarking it for 10 years, it stands out in my brain. I picked it for Stevie mostly because I am that person who puts a shit ton of importance in astrology and natal charts, and I tend to steer clear of signs that are my absolute antithesis (even though I'm apparently very compatible with Aries as an Aquarius? Whatevs).

💙 — Who does your muse have a deep and loyal love for?

"My team? I guess — most of them were friends first, and I tend to not keep long term friends. Call it a shit sense for picking 'em or that I repel them like Off Spray, but when someone's willing to ride or die for you right through rehab and you're the worst possible version of yourself, that's somebody I'll never lose the love for."

🔮  — Is your muse superstitious? What superstitions do they have? Where did they pick them up from?

"Kinda, yeah. Definitely got into all that shit as a kid where I fully convinced myself ghosts and the paranormal exist, and I definitely still believe in it, even if it's not the same sensationalized shit I bought into at thirteen at a sleepover. September is the unluckiest month of the year, too; never had a single good September since I could remember. Wipe that shit off the calendar."

[project-29]

I thought manifesting was superstitious but after learning more about it I’ve completely subscribed to the idea that the energy/vibes we cultivate in ourselves truly does attract the specific kinds of people and experiences in our lives. In more credulous terms, this “energy” is basically luck and charisma. A lot of life is really luck, and some of the luckiest people are truly the most charismatic. And many have tried to study and observe their behavior, and it really comes down to their positive, inviting, resilient/flexible and confident mindset both at a conscious and unconscious level.

I think we’ve all met people who appear to be these things on a more conscious superficial level but are really disconnected and insecure in a subconscious level which ALWAYS becomes obvious. Then somehow eventually we invite people and experiences that mirror these vices and reveal this disconnect which we pick up once we finally get around to paying attention instead of being in denial or numbing/escaping. And I think I’ve been in this low point, feeling very insecure and noticing a big disconnect in the person I portray in public and who I actually feel I am inside close doors which is honestly pretty broken. And I see it reflected back to me in my interactions with close friends and family, in the choices I’ve made, the emotions I feel and the way I tend to react to them. I’m trying my best not to beat myself up over it, because I’ve been here before and have overcome it. It’s a very normal process for everyone. I’m taking it as a sign and need to level up.

I don’t think we have to necessarily identify as sad or depressed in this phase in life, though I’m sure there will be bouts of this in different points in our life that will be more painful than others. And that’s anticipated and okay. A friend had asked me recently how I was and if I was happy cause I looked happy, but I thought maybe saw through it and felt the need to check in. I said “Yes I am happy, I’m broken and in pain but still ultimately content and happy”. And I thought back about how true this was when I was alone, and I still think it’s still an accurate description of my current disposition. I think having gratitude and a clear plan to improve my situation and learning to accept pain/weakness as a given in life has helped me to validate saying I’m happy/content. Also, I really could be going through worse problems cause I think I have been through worse, or maybe just stronger now. :) *pat shoulder* 😬🥹🤓

[limdalamdalomda]

So… I am starting a new adventure. And I’m going to try to commit to it.

I am developing a game.

Until I come up with an actual name, I am referring to it as Project Linwood. I have the base plot, characters, and initial mechanics figured out. I’m working on dialogue and about 100 collectible item designs.

In it, you play as a girl named Wren Bagley, who lives just outside a small, isolated town in the mountains called Linwood. The people here are superstitious and wary. Wren was raised here by her grandmother and inherited the family apothecary after she passed away a few years ago. You spend your days foraging for herbs, mining for crystals, identifying the goods you collected, and helping the townspeople with their ailments and problems. Then, one day, some strangers show up in town… and your choices will determine everyone’s fate.

I love playing and watching play throughs of games, but I have never touched development before. So I have no idea what I’m doing. And I know this is absolutely the wrong way to get into this, but I have such a clear vision of this game that I really, really, really want to make it reality. So! I will try to post updates from time to time to try to keep myself accountable.

[tortricidae]

Clover Worried

My name is clover and I am worried.

It’s a little hard to put into words exactly but I will try my best because that’s all I’ve been doing up until now and I don’t really have much of a choice in the matter. The summer months have been difficult to say the least and I am certain that my brother and I are going to die again, and I’m not entirely sure how I am supposed to deal with that, but I suppose it’s going to be the same as every other time things have been tough.

It’s different this time, though, because this time we are not cheap labor and we are not disposable. We are entirely different and I would rather not get into the history of it all if I can help it. It’s not important to what I’m trying to do. No, now I am trying to talk my brother into seeing the horrors of a world that makes no sense. A world where we are all controlled by appendages that must belong to beings even higher than Poseidon, who is already trapping us in a dream. His dream, I think. Our dream? It’s not clear. All I know is that we are not in the reality we are supposed to be in and I still do not understand why I can see hands moving all the other foxes, but not myself. Surely I am also being manipulated.

But I can’t think about that now. I am waiting for him. Paprika. He’s supposed to meet me here so we can share a meal together. I won’t eat this food anymore. Every time I do, I slip farther and farther into a darkness that welcomes me by name and has a keen interest in absorbing me into its fold. I was there before and then I left.

It would be more correct to say that I was dragged out. By a little Scarfox I’ve never seen before. To be even more honest, she was just pointing out things that I had already been suspecting. All she was doing was confirming what I already know and while I don’t hate her for it, I do wonder if I would be happier if I never questioned the things I saw. I guess I always thought about that.

When Paprika does arrive, he is out of breath. He gets like that when he hasn’t had a meal in a while. Not food like you would think, like what is being made in obscene quantities all around us, no, but mist. The mist of others. I do not have time to think about it right now or I will fall into the trap of distraction. I can’t afford to be distracted anymore.

He eyes me suspiciously. I think he thinks I’m about to lecture him about something, but I would never. I know that he used to be so much worse and if I mention it, he’ll slide backwards. There’s no reason for me to think this will extend beyond the dream weave, but call me superstitious. I don’t want to ruin forward progress, however little it may be.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Paprika says to me. I crack a smile mainly because I can’t get anything by him. He can’t get anything by me either. “Are you okay?”

No, I’m not, but that is not going to be productive for this conversation. I have prepared the most meager plates I can. I am some what aware that I am being watched, but I do not touch the food and neither does Paprika. He’s too busy preparing to refute everything I say. I can tell just by the look in his eyes. Not the eyes on his face, no, the eyes that are nestled in his ears. If you weren’t paying attention, you wouldn’t even know they were eyes because they never really blinked.

But they do squint when Paprika is thinking about how he would rather be somewhere else.

“I just think it would be nice to have a meal with you,” I say, lying. He catches it but doesn’t say anything back to me about it. “You know, to catch up. How’s the vacation going?”

That’s the first sign of discomfort. The shadows that make up his hair wriggle uncomfortably before settling back into the perfect coif that he prefers. A little shadow dangles in his face and it looks sad and sticky. Perhaps I am a little luckier than I first thought.

“It’s going about as well as one would expect,” Paprika replies. He waves at me dismissively, but there is no heart in it. I don’t expect there to be honestly. “Things are weird lately. I never noticed it before, but the foxes around here seem tasteless. Empty.”

I make no move to slide his lunch over to him. It’s not real food and if I think too hard about it, I will see the maggots that burrow into the potatoes and the worms that undulate in the corn. I cannot think about those things right now, no matter what, lest I lose the thread I have plucked. It’s just a single fiber between us now, but I want to pull it carefully or I’ll screw it up again.

The thing I am most thankful for is Habanero being absent. I don’t know if I would be as effective if he was here. I don’t like him, and he is a distraction, which is probably why I don’t like him to begin with. He would entice me into bickering with him, and we cannot afford to waste that time. We have less than seven days left until the end of the summer and even though I do not know how she had managed to do it, Pepper made Poseidon aware of our intentions, and I have been seeing the results of that bubbling ire in the corner of my vision.

“Tasteless?” I ask cautiously. “What makes you say that?”

Paprika shrugs. He doesn’t know how to say what he means, but I know what he means. The foxes are empty and tasteless because they are not real. They are the figments of a god’s imagination, and we are no different, except for the fact that we are aware of it. Or as close to aware as we can be. I think that is the scariest part about all of this.

“And I’ve just been feeling off. I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like. I’m just feeling right. And it wasn’t like this before, so I think we should leave. Fun time is over.”

“We can’t leave,” I reply. “You can try if you want, but you will end up right back here. Does that make sense?”

He doesn’t answer me but I can see that it does. Something else I have noticed is that our thoughts are freely shared between us now. It’s not like telepathy. It’s more like a collective understanding at a realization that any one of us has. The fact that I can see that in Paprika - and he can see it in me - shows that he is aware at least in part that he is not real and neither am I and that we need to do something about it. Before we are forgotten out of existence. There is also a dismay that follows, and then rage. Evil. The same look of contempt I had come to know and expect for a long time. He hates that I am right. He hates that he cannot leave because he hates being trapped. I don’t blame him even though I flinch instinctively. He wouldn’t feed on me, but I have seen him come close in the time before he got better.

“I trust I do not have to explain why I do not like that,” Paprika says. “You are far more aware than I was.”

“We’re already working on it.”

“We?”

“Pepper and Habanero.” I hesitate to say Habanero’s name, lest I inadvertently start something. “We are working on the last one. Opal. And then we are preparing.”

“So be it.”

Paprika only says that when he is enraged. I do not look at him out of respect. He doesn’t like to be seen when he is like this, and his eyes get scary, so I avoid them. He wants to end this and he wants to do it now. Patience has never really been his strong suit after becoming a Scarfox. He wants what he wants immediately, and I don’t blame him for that either. I don’t blame him for a lot of things.

“When Pepper is back, we suspect that Habanero will have a couple more objects from the beach. We don’t have a lot of time. And now that you are aware, you can’t consume anything anymore. Not even for your hunts.” “Is that what was holding me back?”

It’s a pointed question and he knows the answer already but I answer him anyway. Or rather, I just not at him because that’s my best guess. It was likely a combination of hunting and distraction, which were tailored to each individual and sometimes even forced upon us when we weren’t paying attention.

“When do we expect them to be back?”

I look across the fields of the Hidden Garden. It was anyone’s guess. “Soon enough, I assume.”