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notmyprey · 3 months

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Story idea I've been obsessed with (aka Belly of a Beast on Masterlist):

Tw: I swear sometimes out of habit, im tired, so there's probably something there I didn't catch. Sorry. Also- panic attack mention. Not too much detail on that tho, and it doesn't actually happen, only crying. Also, vore, lol.

(Note: remember that Jay and Lilly are my go-to names. This is not referring to any character I've ever posted about. This is referring to new OCs, or new to you all at least)

Everything was dark, the endless night bringing a comfort for Lilly, even in her half asleep state. She kept her eyes closed, continuing to take in the feelings produced from the dream tugging at her mind. Calm, steady waves moved around her, almost like the ocean itself was trying to reach for a hug. She reaches out to press her hand into the water, preparing for the liquid to give way and welcome her hand into it. The water did not seem to have this same plan, and as she reached out to touch it, its surface formed a soft shell, blocking her hand from breaching the surface.

The abrupt disruption jolted her awake. Around her, the moving sensation continued. A light red wall of flesh sat in front of Lilly, curling underneath her to form the cradle that gently swayed her back and forth.

Lilly's breath hitched at the sight. This, she thought, could not possibly be happening. But the pressure on her hands and body, the nausea, it was all too real.

Pressing into the ever moving ground, she got up, moving to examine what was behind her.

The walls and floor reached, melding together so often that it was hard to find where one started and the other ends. If she were to lay back down, the chamber would fit almost 2 and a half of her from front to back. This did not help how often this place contradicted itself. It's so endless, yet so constricting.

Not even a few feet away laid her 3 sleeping friends. No one but her had woken up yet, but with the situation they faced, she was sure they would understand the rude awakening.

"Hey!" She raised her voice, creating a sea of mixed reactions from her companions, ranging from startled to annoyed. She ignored this, figuring its better that than they stayed asleep.

"What... I dont even know...", her voice slowly died, the weight of what was happening slowly seeping further and further into her brain.

She watched as slowly, each of her friends came to the same realization she had come to, terror showing itself on all of their faces.

It was quiet, each individual taking in their surroundings at their own pace. Lilly didnt know how long it was, but finally, someone spoke.

"Does... does anyone know where we are..." Ash breathed, visibility shuddering as the place that surrounded them slowed briefly before returning to its previous vigor.

A series of shaking heads and solemn looks came from the group, none having any more clue than the next as to whats happening.

"Well..." Her other friend, Jay, started, "it looks like... maybe a creature of somesort?"

"I," Lilly chimed in hesitantly, "it almost looks like a... stomach." The word stomach coming out more like a question rather than an observation.

Again, the group went silent.

"But... theres no, like acid. Or anything." Cass had now gotten over his shock, returning into the talkitive and logistical individual they all knew him to be. He continued listing his observations, "And there also doesn't seem to be any saliva, and there's light... but I dont know where it's coming from. But like, on the other side of that... you can see the... creature... breathing... around us, and you can... feel... it too."

As if the same thought passed through all of their minds simultaneously, they all stretched their necks upwards, observing the constriction and relaxation of the organ surrounding them. Perhaps it was just the faint sounds coming from her friends, but Lilly swore she could almost hear it breathing.

It was mesmerizing, the way the stomach shifted and moved. The way each breath only furthered the movements of the churning organ. Again, her friends started to discuss where perhaps they could be, a strange insane asylum, a lab, and anything else they could cling to. But she knew better, from the moment the idea had come to light, that they were now, quite literally, in the belly of a beast.

The chattering continued, slowly dying down into a somber plea for any other answer than the reality they faced. As the group grew quiet, a small cough was heard briefly before the walls of the stomach collapsed towards her and her friends. Just as quickly, the pressure released, no one was hurt, but Lilly could still feel her heart race in her ears.

At this point, the long stretches of silence were normal to the group. Every once in a while, someone would sniffle or clear their throat. Jay, she noticed, seemed to have it worse than the rest of them. They looked pale, almost sick. Jay had always had a rough time in stressful situations, and it seemed like now was no different.

Though, for how stressful this situation was, to her, it started to actually feel sort of boring. It must have been a shared feeling, as Ash, seemingly reading her mind, started to yawn. That was the beginning of the yawning outbreak. Lilly was first to give in, yawning and holding her breath for a moment to take it all in. Next was Cass, then finally Jay.

As soon as Jay opened their mouth, Lilly noticed the organ surrounding them's breathing broke its normal pattern, stopping suddenly to take a deep breath in. Then, after a few moments, she heard Jay exhale, and the stomach did as well.

This is when gears in Lilly's head start to turn. She carefully crawls over to Jay, trying to get close enough that she can whisper in their ear.

"Hey," she starts, keeping her voice low and as calm as she could in this moment, "can you do me a favor real quick?"

While confused, Jay nodded, "Ya, what do you need?"

"Can you hold your breath for a moment?"

"Uhm, sure?" Jay took a deep breath. Sure enough, Lilly watched as the stomach around them threw away its normal pattern in exchange for holding itself in place, save for its ever chruning walls. Then, as it had before, once Jay exhaled, so did the chamber release its tension.

No matter how she herself did not believe this, everything she understood, everything that has happened now started to make sense. They, somehow, were inside Jay's stomach. This creature, this thing they have been inside of, feeling it breath and live, has been Jay.

Her face fell into immense shock. She couldn't help but look down at the ruffled sweater that covered Jay's abdomen. Under all that cloth, skin, muscle, and fat were her, along with everyone else in here. She raised her hand, instinctively wanting to reach out, to push at the area, hoping to feel themselves under Jay's skin. She stopped, bringing her hand back to her lap after realizing that would not only be weird, but also a violation of Jay's personal space.

"Uh... Lilly?" Jay's voice brought her back to reality.

"Sorry, um... Jay, are you... feeling alright?" She knew saying outright, 'Hey! Funny thing, were actually inside your stomach!' Was a good way to send her friend into a full-blown panic attack. Wanting to stay away from that, she opted for trying to have Jay come to the realization on their own.

"No, actually. I've been feeling quite sick, like I ate something I wasn't supposed to."

If only Jay knew how right they were, Lilly thought with a laugh. "Oh, Im sorry..." She looked away again, trying to think of any hints she could give to Jay that they are, in fact, the reason for said stomach ache. This proved increasingly difficult, each new idea proving to be something that would panic or hurt Jay in some way.

Finally, Lilly hit her breaking point. She wanted to be patient, but she was never the 'sit down and be quiet' type. She stood up and sent a swift punch to the stomach wall closest to her. Though she did not use her full strength, she did punch hard enough to produce a shocked yelp from Jay. Looking back down at her friend, Jay was now hunched over, their arms crossed and pressing into their abdomen.

"What the hell was that?" Ash was now standing as well, a look of annoyance at what Lilly did coming to light.

Lilly ignored her, keeping her eyes locked on her crumpled up friend, "Jay, did you feel that?"

"Yea..." their voice was weak. She could hear the tears that were forming just from how Jay spoke.

This broke her heart. She hated to be the cause of grief in her friend, but she couldn't be the only one to figure this out. She needed everyone on the same page. "Right... I- does everyone understand what that means?" She turned her head towards Ash and Cass, though finding it hard to keep her gaze away from Jay.

Ash's look of annoyance turned to that of shock, but soon both her and Lilly's heart seemed to sink in unison, whipping their heads towards the sudden burst of sobbing coming from Jay.

Their head is now touching the floor of the stomach, and Jay's arms grip tightens around their middle. "No no no no..." they whisper, their voice sounding ever so helpless and small.

The stomach shakes and collapses in again as Jay instinctively heaves. It swiftly releases its grip, showing Jay still on the floor, legs under themselves, though now having had to brace themselves with their arms planted into the fleshy floor under them.

"Im sorry, I- Oh god." Jay chokes out before returning to their previous dread filled state.

It was horrible, watching Jay go through such grief, such guilt, neither of which she would ever believe were because of something Jay did, at least on purpose. Even though Lilly knew they were in Jay's stomach, she also knew that Jay was not the kind of person to put anyone in any position that housed any potential for harming them. That is how she knew Jay was not the cause of this.

She kneeled down, so close to Jay this time that the right side of her body from her sholder to her hip was pressed against Jay. She wrapped her arm around them, moving her hand up and down in an attempt to console their shivering, absolutely miserable friend.

Minutes passed, with Lilly, Ash, Cass, and Jay, all in silence once more. After Jay had finished their crying, no one knew what to say, so they didn't speak. All they could do was sit and watch as their friends body moved around them subconsciously.

Lilly couldn't help but think about how much Jay and their stomach were true opposites. Jay, though Lilly knew that they loved physical affection, never sought it out due to their constant fear of being too much. Jay's stomach, on the other hand, seemed to almost reach out for it, calling for Lilly, for any of them, to hug and rub at it. It was an offer too cute to pass up.

Without thinking, Lilly rested her hand on the soft flesh beneath her. It was nice and plush, much like sinking into a pillow. She gripped at it, fidgeting and kneeding at her friends stomach. That was, until she happened to glance at a very red-faced Jay, whose eyes didn't break from her hand that now was mindlessly moving up and down in a sort of petting motion.

Lilly flushed a bit, stopping the movement of her hand but keeping it pressing down. "Jay... uhm." She didn't know what to say. She couldn't quite understand why, but somehow she felt calm, like she knew everything would be ok. She wanted Jay to feel like that as well. She could see how they folded in on themselves in shame. She didn't understand why, but it made her sad that they did.

"Are you feeling better?" She finally managed to get out.

Jay made a motion to speak, their mouth opening and closing without a word to fall out. A small nod is all they can muster up, before once again hanging their head low.

"Whats it feel like?" The words slipped out of her mouth before she could even process them, shocking everyone in the room, including herself. The red on Jay's face intensified as they sheepishly raised their head to look at her.

"What?" Jay knew what Lilly had meant, but the shock of the question took all the words from Jay, all except for that one.

"Um. You know, having us... in here and stuff." It was hard to meet Jay's eyes, and she knew they were also averting their gaze as well.

"I..." Jay paused, seconds seemed like minutes as she waited to hear their response. Finally, they spoke again. "It's... strange. I feel... sick. And I can feel every movement," Jay locks eyes with Lilly a brief moment before darting away to continue, "you guys make. I thought. I thought it was just... me being ill, before, but it was... you all."

"Huh." Cass spoke abruptly. It was a bit out of turn, but Lilly knew it was in an effort to let Jay know he was still listening.

Jay's voice shrunk once more, "Im sorry." This barely came out as a whisper, but without anything else to hear, save for Jay's organs working away, it was easy enough to make out what they said.

"It's ok... I know," Lilly sighed, resting herself once again against Jay, "you didn't do this on purpose. You wouldn't."

"I didn't, no. I would never -" Jays lip started to trimble once more.

She was so close to Jay, yet she wished she could get closer. She wanted to wrap Jay up and hold them, tell them it was alright. But for now, she would have to settle for being the weight on their side and the little weight in their stomach.

#sfw vore #safe vore #soft vore #extreme cuddling #e a/t

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twistedtummies2 · 18 days

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Of Big Mice & Men - Chapter 1

This is the first of a multi-chapter story I wrote as a long, LONG running trade with CK-19 on FurAffinity. He created a trio of OCs for Twisted Wonderland, themed around the villains of "The Great Mouse Detective." In return for three pieces of artwork (which have not been posted here...at least not yet), I agreed to write a three-part story to introduce these characters in writing, in the typical TW format. Also, my boi Elias is featured as a supporting character, along with the Pomefiore Trio! Take from that what you will. This first chapter doesn't include any direct vore, but every chapter includes kinky references and teases, so do be warned. IF YOU DON'T LIKE VORE, STUFFING, AND OTHER ASSORTED KINKS, OR YOU'RE NOT 18+, DON'T GO READING THIS. With that said, here's Chapter 1! Chapter 2 will be linked here. :)

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“Here you are, sweetheart!”

“Have you…been with us…long?”

You looked skeptically at the strange little bat, dressed in a beefeater’s costume, as he handed you the letter attached to the large, pastel-paper-wrapped package that had been brought into your chambers. You didn’t recognize him as any of your staff…and who called the ruler of the kingdom “sweetheart,” anyway? You shooed the Bat away; he backed up with a crooked grin, hobbling on a peg leg that replaced one of his lower limbs. You then proceeded to read the letter aloud… “To our beloved monarch, this gift we send, as their sixty-year reign…” You paused, hesitating to read the last line. “...Comes to an…end?” As if on cue, you heard the rustling of paper and unwrapping ribbons. Turning fast, now VERY confused, you watched as your guards pulled open the package…and gasped softly as you beheld the contents. Inside the oversized box was what appeared to be a metal statue. The sculpture was the perfect likeness of yourself! Every feature, color, and detail was perfectly identical to your own appearance, as it posed with its head held high, back straight and erect, looking proud and haughty. “How extraordinary!” you exclaimed, unable to repress amazement at the lifelike appearance of the sculpture… …Amazement that changed to fear and alarm when it suddenly popped open its eyes and swiveled its head towards you. Then, its hands lifted up, clawing at the air as it lunged at you with shocking speed. “Goodness gracious!” you cried out, and dodged the metallic doppelganger. It began to chase you around the room. You bounded around, weaving in a figure-eight sort of pattern to avoid its grasping iron fists. You dove behind your guards for protection… …At which point, you heard a low, dark chuckle. Peeking out from behind the two guards, you saw the metallic simulacrum - the Automaton - had paused in the center of the room. Now you could see what looking like a long, thick cable or cord trailing behind it, like a snake. At the other end of the wire, you saw what looked like a portable booth of some sort; a small, stooped figure with sad, weary eyes was fiddling with a set of levers and switches at the booth, controlling the machine. But it was the figure who leaned with a smug, supercilious, sinister smirk against the doorway, just a little away from the booth, that caught your attention most. A hulking, towering figure, garbed in a long black-and-red cape, and a tuxedo that seemed to cling with desperation to his bulky, muscular framework. A top hat was perched at a jaunty angle atop his black-furred head, as yellow eyes and equally yellow, jagged-looking teeth peered at you with evil intent. A long, fat, wormy-looking tail drooped down and curled upon the floor from beneath the cape, matching the twitching nose and round ears, signifying your visitor to be the slimy, contemptible sewer rat you knew him to be. You’d long known of his name. You’d seen his images in the papers. He was the Napoleon of Crime: the one who would plunge all of Mousedom into the depths of Hell. The brain behind the Big Ben Caper, the thing behind the Tower Bridge Job… “PROFESSOR RATIGAN!” you screeched, and marched out from behind your guards, pointing at the arch-criminal. “GUARDS! SEIZE THIS DESPICABLE CREATURE!” You hear the Bat let out a raspy, almost sick-sounding laugh. Your guards remain immobile. You suddenly notice the evil smirks upon their faces. You instantly realize the truth: these AREN’T your guards. They’re imposters! The Professor has you trapped!

Clearly enjoying the rising panic on your face, the Professor grabs hold of a speaking device attached to the booth. As he speaks smugly into it, his voice comes out of the Automaton: just like the machine itself, the voice is a perfect replica of your own. “GUARDS!” the Automaton says, with your voice and the Professor’s mocking tone. “SEIZE THIS DESPICABLE CREATURE! HA HA HA HA HA HA!” In an instant, the fake guards grab hold of you. You yelp and struggle against them, but they’re stronger than you are. “Oh! How dare you?!” you cough out, as they snicker at your plight. The Professor sniffs snootily, and removes a golden bell from his waistcoat pocket. “Take it away!” he bellows, and gives the belly a chiming ring-a-ding! “Move along, honey!” cackles the Bat, and he and the two guards drag you out of the room. As you pass the Professor, you see him tuck the bell away, smirking sneakily as he begins to polish the face of the Auotmaton with a small pink cloth. “Let go of me, you ruffians! Fiends! Traitors!” you wail. The guards and the Bat just roll their eyes at your words, and proceed to bind you in strong ropes, forcing a cloth gag around your mouth. The guards then rush off to join the Professor, while the Bat grabs hold of the ropes and begins to drag you through the gilded halls of the Palace, towards the Royal Balcony. “Your turn, toots,” grunts the Bat, and then shrilly calls out: “Heeere, kitty-kitty-kitty!” The words fill you with dread. You manage to get a look at where the Bat is taking you…and scream behind the gag, as you see a pair of ravenous yellow eyes peering in at you from over the edge of the balcony. They disappear and then reappear again, rising and falling: you realize whatever is beyond the Balcony is bouncing up and down with eager excitement. Eager, you quickly understand…to make a meal out of you. You struggle more fiercely, desperate to avoid becoming some doubtless feline monster’s dinner! As the Bat hoists you up over his head, you try to kick at his noggin - and succeed, if the sudden shriek of, “Ow! Stop it!” is anything to go by - but it is all for naught. Despite his size, the Bat is stronger than you are, especially with the ropes keeping you tightly trussed up. It isn’t long till the Bat reaches the Royal Balcony. The beast that awaits you has stopped bouncing, and is now seated, patiently waiting just below the edge of the overlook. The creature defied all description: the fattest cat you’d ever seen, bigger than a Blue Whale! A half-lidded look of self-satisfaction and ravenous, smoldering greed was upon the creature’s face, as it purred deeply, swishing its tail in expectation. The Bat lifted you up higher into the air, and called down to the Fat Cat in a sing-song sort of way: “Ooopen wiiide!” The Fat Cat obeyed, and its jaws spread apart, revealing a vast, slimy chasm of sloppy, pinkish flesh and sharp, off-white fangs, all sloping back towards a gluttonous black hole of a gullet. You screamed frantically behind the gag, desperately shaking your head in panic, but the Bat just laughed as the Fat Cat drooled…

“Bye-bye!” the Bat cackled, and without any further warning, hurled you over the edge of the Royal Balcony. Your final scream was muffled as you fell, toppling head over heels, into the literal jaws of death…which snapped shut around you with the cold finality of a steel door, preluding the warm, slimy darkness from which you would never return. The last sound you heard was a loud GULP all around you… …Then something bounced on your chest and yowled “MINION! GET UP!” You awoke with a jolt, gasping heavily and sitting up fast in your bed. Your head jerked about as you hastened to gather your surroundings. Via the light that streamed through a thin partition in your bedroom curtains, you came to realize it was already morning. You groaned as you realized either you’d slept through your alarm, or the alarm itself hadn’t gone off. Just your luck. “Oh, good grief,” you grumbled, running a hand over your face and mussing your own hair. Your whole body felt heavy, creaky, and gritty, the way one usually feels first thing in the morning after an unpleasant sleep. “Nya! C’mon, get your butt in gear!” “Don’t talk to ME about butts,” you mumbled, and rubbing at your eyes. You touched your cheek and shivered; your “nightmare” had left you with a pronounced blush, which heated your palm in a way you didn’t like at present. You needed new kinks. Seriously. Still grumpy, you glared sourly past baggy eyes at the cat-like little monster who had bounced off of you and back onto the floor beside the bed. Grim was standing on his hind legs, forelimbs crossed, tapping one footpaw impatiently on the floor as his trident tail lashed irritatedly behind him. Even the blue sparks that crackled from his fiery ears seemed a bit more irate than normal as he gave you a petulant glare. “What?” you grunted, not in the mood after your nightmare. “Breakfast!” meowed Grim, and pawed at the blankets like a feral cat. “We gotta eat somethin’ before we go!” “Go?” you blinked, your brain struggling to recall what Grim was referring to. There were no classes that day, after all, but you remembered setting an alarm regardless… “To Pomefiore!” Grim urged in reminder. “The Film Club, y’know?” You sighed softly and nodded, as it came back to you. “Right,” you muttered, and kicked off the blankets as you clambered out of bed, staggering a bit, your dream still fresh on your mind. “Vil, uh…he asked us to help him, right?” “Uh-huh,” nodded Grim, padding around the bed to the other side with a growing smirk. “Guess he realized he couldn’t make a movie without ving the Great Grim some kinda part, huh?” You gave a tired, wry smile in response. Vil Schoenheit’s preferred gaffers for the Film Studies Club had both recently taken ill, and would not be returning for about two weeks. Ortho was busy with some stuff pertaining to the Shroud Family, with his brother, so he could not rely on the android for any technical assistance. Not entirely sure where else to turn, he’d asked you and Grim to assist behind the scenes for a few days. Grim, however, hadn’t figured out he wasn’t acting in the movie at all. Which wasn’t a problem: you’d soon convince him that being a gaffer was somehow even more important. It wasn’t hard to stroke Grim’s ego in any given direction and get him to behave; you’d figured him out by now.

A yawn went through you and you stretched; as you did so, you remembered the absolutely massive feline in your dreams, and their own yawning mouth. A shiver went through you, and was soon followed by a different sort of shudder, as you remembered the creepy little bat and the devious rat that had also been present. “Can’t wait to see what THAT was all about,” you mumbled, knowing by now these sorts of dreams were rarely idle fancies. “Nya?” Grim mewed, curiously. “Nothing,” you said, shaking your head, and moving to get dressed. “Thanks for waking me up, Grim. Lemme get dressed and I’ll make us breakfast. But only a quick one!” Grim nodded in acceptance. Normally, he would have complained about how a “quick�� breakfast usually meant one that was much too small for his seemingly bottomless pit of a belly. Not this time, however: if there was one thing you were both agreed on, it was that being late for almost ANY Housewarden’s demands at Night Raven College was going to end horribly. Vil Schoenheit was far from an exception.

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“My brave spirit! Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil would not infect his reason?” “Not a soul but felt a fever of the mad, and played some tricks of desperation…”

You carefully adjusted your grip on the reflector as you held it up in position. Not so far from you, Grim was holding a second reflector - obviously smaller and lower to the ground - to direct the flow of light in the direction Vil had demanded. Everything had to be positioned properly. Outdoor shoots were always tricky. Your mind wandered away from the dialogue being uttered a few feet ahead of where you stood. You noticed something wiggle slightly in the corner of your eye; being cautious not to loose your grip, you checked to see what it was. To your opposite side from Grim, and about the same distance away, a student held aloft the boom mic, keeping it positioned over the heads of the two actors in the center of the action, and trying to keep it out of the frame. The student in question was dressed in a Pomefiore uniform, but with the blazer buttoned up and the collar turned upwards; he was very small and thin, with a gaunt sort of face and sharp features, only partially obscured by the unusual shades he wore. The tint on the glasses was a curious yellowish hue, and the wire rims were colored crimson. From his gray-brown head of shaggy hair, a pair of ears - those of a vampire bat - sprouted up and twitched from side to side. The most curious thing of all, however, was the wooden peg that replaced the fellow’s right foot. You were tempted to ask what happened that led to such an injury, but you didn’t think it was polite, since you’d never met this student before in your life. Of course, the same could be said for a couple of people on the scene, including one of the two actors being filmed.

“Hell is empty, and all the devils are here!”

This utterance was followed by a cackling laugh, and you turned quickly as you were alerted by the sound. The famous line was uttered by one of these new faces: he was garbed in a fanciful, pale, ethereal costume - similar to something you’d seen your friends wear during the Fairy Gala - which seemed almost offset by the rest of his appearance. He was a fit, athletic figure, with a round and handsome face…but with dangerous, almost devil-like red eyes, and a mouthful of jagged teeth, which he displayed in a duplicitous sort of smile. The tail of a rodent whipped behind him, and a pair of matching rodentine ears were visible between the hairs of his scalp: raven-hued hairs, swept back and pomaded most heavily. Opposite to the rodent-boy was a more familiar face. You couldn’t help but smile as the cackle was replied to by a chortle from Elias Inque. Garbed in a long wizard’s robe that reminded you of Headmage Ambrose from NRC, and wearing glasses and some aging makeup to give himself an older appearance, Eli clapped his scene partner on the shoulder with one hand, as the other gripped the mage’s staff (a prop, rather than a real magical conduit). “Why, that’s my spirit!” he said, putting on an affectation of age in his voice. “But was not this nigh shore?” “Close by, my Master,” the rodent replied, brushing the hand off his shoulder with a slight sneer, trying to hide a look of mild distaste and failing.

“But are they, Ariel, safe?” urged Elias, in the role of Prospero. “Not a hair perished!” promised the rodent. He paused, and was about to say more, when… “CUT!”

Instantly, the two actors seemed to jump out of their characters. Elias straightened his stance, and looked expectantly towards the director’s chair. The rodent boy smirked, sticking his nose up and puffing out his chest as he did the same, clearly proud of his work so far. Vil rose from the folding chair he’d set up for himself as director. Imperiously, he addressed the whole cast and crew: “Fifteen minute break, everybody. I’m going to review the footage and give a few notes, then we’ll move on. Depending on how this has panned out, we may do the scene again.” “Ha! I dare say we’ve done a more than suitable job!” barked the half-rodent. Vil narrowed his green eyes at the actor playing Ariel. “We’ll see,” was all he said, vaguely, then smiled slightly at Elias and nodded to him. “Please stay in makeup, there’s still plenty more to do.” “Wasn’t planning to get out of it,” Elias said, adjusting his glasses and stretching his back. “Oof…I think I need to take it easy on the ‘old man’ pose, though.” “Or perhaps simply warm up better before beginning work,” suggested Vil, crisply. “I ALWAYS warm up well,” huffed Elias in reply. Vil snorted slightly, and waved the actors away, before calling out, “Craft Services, Please!” He then moved to speak to the head camera operator, checking the footage with one finger to his lips as he focused. “Phew! Glad we’ve got a break,” Grim sighed at your side, as you each put down your reflectors. “My arms were getting tired.” “Mine, too,” you muttered, and smiled. “We shouldn’t be shooting for too much longer, though.” “Good,” Grim grumbled, and then hissed slightly, ears folding back as he rubbed his pudgy, fluffy belly. “Nya…my stomach is DYING over here! And now he’s calling for arts-and-crafts, of all things…” “Not arts and crafts,” corrected Elias, who had heard everything. He was removing the robe and hanging it up on a portable coat rack at the edge of the established set; it was rather warm. “Craft services. Basically snacks.” Grim’s ears pricked up. “Snacks?” he meowed, and his mouth began to water. “Y-You mean…you mean there’s FOOD here?!” You sighed, sensing trouble. “Grim-” It was too late. The imp bounded off on all fours, dropping his reflector in an instant. “FOOD!” he all but roared as he ran off. Sighing again, more heavily, you picked up the reflector and put both away properly, then headed over to the Craft Services area that had been set up. After all, you couldn’t very well leave the little demon on his own to hog it all. Grim, meanwhile, soon found the large folding tables where a variety of snacks had been piled up. He licked his whiskers greedily, turquoise eyes sparkling as he hopped up and scrambled onto the table, looking at the foodstuffs laid out. One of the crew members yelped as Grim pounced on a tray of chocolate chip muffins they’d been about to try, and began to gluttonously stuff his face with the sweet baked goods.

“Hey!” the Pomefiore student snapped. “Leave some for the rest of us!” another yelled. “You can’t do that!” a third snapped. Others began to complain…but their complaints were suddenly silenced when they heard huge footsteps pounding towards them. Fear seemed to grip all their hearts…and they hastily stepped back, parting like the red sea, as a huge shadow swept across the forest floor, approaching the table ominously. The shadow - one with pointed ears, with a vaguely conical and imposing pear-shape, like a walking rocky mountain - moved closer and closer…and soon fell over Grim. The cat-like little monster was busy licking crumbs off his paws as he sat in the middle of the now nearly empty muffin platter. He picked up the last muffin… …Then blinked, as he sensed a presence now looming over him. “Mrowrl.” The sound of a deep toned feline noise caused Grim to look up, eyes wide and curious. Standing over him was an absolutely GIGANTIC figure: a beastman with a thick mane of sandy hair, and matching cat’s ears. A matching, bushy tail was only barely visible behind their bulk. The figure was androgynous in features, with a certain effeminate softness - accented by a violet ribbon tied into a bow in their hair - but with a masculine breadth. This stated breadth was intensified by the Falstaffian dimensions of the young neko: he stood somewhere between seven and eight feet tall, an uncommon height that only a very select few at Night Raven shared, and like so many of these massively tall figures, he was also massively obese. Flabby, flappy double-chins transitioned into a barrel chest and giant belly, which peeked out from under the indigo vest and white dress shirt that was common for Pomefiore. It pooched over the waistband of the catboy’s black dress pants, which clung tightly to a set of wide, plush, thick hips, which hinted at powerfully heavy thighs and a no doubt elephantine backside. The catboy’s eyes blinked down at Grim. They were half-lidded, with a sort of imperial pride and haughty, vain coldness. The eyes glowed dimly, and were colored the same shade of violet as the hairbow he wore. His whole demeanor as he looked down at Grim was that of a spoiled and icy-veined prince, peering down at some lowly peasant. Grim frowned and hugged the muffin in his paws close to his chest. “Nya! Get your own chow!” he snapped with a snarl, not deterred by the monstrous size of the catboy. “This is mine!” The obstinate little imp then prepared to chomp down on the muffin…only for his teeth to snap shut around thin air as the catboy reached down and plucked the muffin out of his paws with a finger and thumb. Grim looked up just in time to see the fat demi pop the muffin between a pair of equally fat, plump, supple lips, which shifted as he chewed up the chocolatey goodness and - GULP! - swallowed the masticated goody into the colossal, beefy tank of his gut. “H-Hey!” Grim shouted, and stood up on the platter, stomping his foot. “Didn’t you hear me?! I said to get your own food!” The fat catboy smirked, raising one eyebrow in amusement. Then, he reached down…and Grim let out a startled “eep!” as the feline grabbed him by the scruff and hoisted him up.

“OI! PUT ME DOWN!” screeched Grim, swiping at the air. “PUT ME DOWN RIGHT NOW-” His shouting was cut short when a deep, low rumble came from the giant half-cat’s belly…and he saw the cat-eared student lick their lips greedily, giving Grim the same look he would have given to a tuna sandwich. “...Um…p-please?” mewed Grim, timidly. The catboy let out a low, chuckle…and opened his jaws wide, revealing a slimy orifice, filled with slippery, slick flesh. A tongue twitched in the center of it all, as ivory fangs dripped with drool, and the gullet flapped open greedily at the back of the throat. Grim cried out as he was dangled over the cavernous abyss… “W-WAIT JUST A MINUTE, Y-Y-YOU CAN’T-!” “LEAVE HIM ALONE!” The catboy closed his mouth and blinked…then looked towards the source of the sound. It was you, naturally. While the other crew members stood off to the side, looking rather nervous about the whole situation. You had to admit, your own heart was beating VERY rapidly…though anxiety was hardly the only reason. You were uncomfortably aware of the heat in your cheeks. The catboy blinked at you…then seemed to pout, looking between yourself and Grim. “Put him down!” you demanded, and gestured to the table. “Th-there’s still plenty of…snacks…l-leftover…” Your stammer was due to the feline approaching you with a greedy grin. You felt something inside of you flutter and weaken as he licked his chops. His eyes roamed across your form, as if sizing you up for supper. Then, he lifted a hand. His fingers flexed like claws, and- RING-A-DING! The neko froze. His ears and tail stiffened and straightened as he looked towards the source of the sound. “Now, now, Philippe,” a voice slithered in a silky tone. “Play nicely. After all, they’re part of the crew. We need them.” The source of the voice was the rat-boy who had been playing Ariel. He was holding a small gold bell in one hand. Philippe gave him a petulant, disappointed look - like a pet cat with their owner - and looked between them, yourself, and Grim…before sighing through his nose and finally putting Grim down. The moment his paws touched the floor, Grim dove behind your legs and hissed at Philippe. Philippe just rolled his eyes, then smirked at you. The glint in his purple eyes seemed to say, “This isn’t over,” before he turned his back on you and lumbered back towards the table. Realizing the danger was over, the other students waiting for Craft Services all let out collective sounds of relief and lined up behind the fat catboy. The looks on their faces indicated they were all hoping they’d get SOMETHING at this point. You weren’t aware of it entirely, but your eyes remained fixed on the round, heavy backside of the fat half-feline - which was stuffed most snugly into the back of his wide trousers - watching the way it wobbled with every ponderous step, till you could not see it past the crowd. You shook yourself out of it when the half-rodent’s voice came again. “Apologies about him,” he said. “Philippe can be rather…impetuous.”

“That’s one word for it,” you mumbled, and tilted your head. “I didn’t catch your name. Who are you?” “Raphael,” the slick-haired beastman answered, bowing respectfully and tucking the bell into a pocket of his costume. “Raphael Price. Philippe is my boyfriend.” “Wow, you sure know how to pick ‘em,” muttered Grim, then yelped as you nudged him crossly with one foot to shush him. “Oh, he’s a good kitty, once you get to know him,” cooed Raphael, as Philippe came back with a platter covered in snacks. He stood on his tip toes and playfully scritched the fat beastman under the chin. “Isn’t that right, my little honey bun?” Philippe blushed slightly and purred, leaning into Raphael’s touch happily. You and Grim shared a look but said nothing. “Raphael,” a voice spoke up. It belonged to the bat you’d seen handling the boom arm. His voice had a sort of strange, “creaky” quality to it, yet still carried youth that matched his presumed age. “Yes, Nostra?” Raphael checked. “What is it?” “The director wants to talk to you and me,” Nostra replied, jabbing a thumb towards Vil. “Right-o,” Raphael nodded, and smiled at you, bowing once more. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Prefect of Ramshackle Dorm.” “And the same to you,” you replied. However, you didn’t fully mean it. Something about Raphael didn’t sit right with you: it wasn’t the rodentine features, but something about his manner. His voice carried an oily, overly effusive quality, and there was something scheming in his eyes and smile that reminded you of too many crooked double-dealers you’d met at the school: at least Jamil could hide his inner evil. Raphael was like him, except without any attempt to hide the sneakiness in his smirk. You had little time to reflect on such matters, however, for the trio turned on their heels and marched away to see Vil. Just before they departed, Philippe glanced back over his shoulder. He smirked, winked, and licked his lips, before giving his giant rump a playful, suggestive pat. You couldn’t hold back the squeak that left you, and averted your eyes with a blush. Philippe purred, clearly pleased with your reaction, and swaggered off - wide hips swaying - after Raphael and Nostra.

“Careful when admiring the scenery,” smirked Elias Inque as he moved to stand beside you, munching on a cookie. “Philippe won’t have any problem making you part of it. Besides, he’s already taken.” “Doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the view,” you responded, without missing a beat. You shot Grim a glare as the greedy little creature sniggered at your reaction. “I’m actually being serious when I say to be careful,” Elias went on, his smirk fading into a sober look as he adjusted his costume-prescribed spectacles. “Those three are trouble.” “Is anybody at this school NOT trouble?” you drawled in response. “That’s fair,” chuckled Eli, then went on in explanation: “Those three are something else, though. I’m not in Pomefiore, so I don’t know all the details, but I heard that Raphael has been trying to find a way to take Vil’s position as Housewarden. He’s known Nostra and Philippe since they were kids; chances are one of them would be his Vice, if that ever happened.” “So there’s some rivalry going on?” you surmised. “Well, my guess is it’s pretty one-sided,” smirked Eli. “After all, Vil doesn’t seem too worried.” “THIS IS AN OUTRAGE!” All three of you - yourself, Eli, and Grim - jumped as, out of nowhere, an angry shout raked through the air and into your ears. Everyone else on the set was alarmed as well, and turn to look towards the source of the furious yelling. Confused and concerned, you jogged over to where the call came from, waving a hand to beckon your friends to follow. Grim and Elias quickly obeyed, trailing close behind your heels. It didn’t take too long to find what was going on. Vil Schoenheit stood near the primary camera, aloof and stern in his expression, arms crossed over his chest. Raphael was glaring daggers at the Housewarden, teeth bared in a vicious snarl…one which didn’t seem to faze Vil in the least. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU WANT TO DO THE WHOLE SCENE AGAIN?!” roared Raphael. “Precisely what I just said,” Vil responded, in a crisp sort of way. Noticing how your own little group had drawn closer, he addressed Elias: “Sorry you had to hear the decision this way.” “Oh, it’s alright,” Eli said with a nod. “Sometimes things have to be done again to get them just right.” Vil nodded back, and glared at Raphael. “Your scene partner is perfectly alright with the situation,” he commented. “Yes, well I am not!” snapped Raphael, crossly. “What was wrong with that scene that it needs to be done again?! I put all of my soul into every moment of every take!” “Then you clearly need a larger soul,” Vil quipped back. “Regarding your performance, every take felt increasingly overwrought: played up to a degree that might work onstage, but is unsuitably overwhelming for the camera. I was hoping we could get a suitable angle or shot somewhere, and I might change my mind during the break…” His green eyes then darted towards Nostra. “...But then I realized that Feratu’s boom mic was hovering in the frame for a full two seconds in the best shot we did have.” Raphael blinked, then glared fiercely at Nostra. The bat blushed and seemed to become very interested in a pebble, which he kicked with his peg leg. “We reshoot the whole scene, then we can move on to the next one tomorrow,” Vil concluded, narrowing his eyes at Raphael. “And this time, Price, tone down the melodrama.” “This is Shakespeare!” exclaimed Raphael. “Isn’t melodrama par the course?”

“Not in the way we’re handling it, and certainly not in the way you’re presenting it,” was the response. Vil then looked at Nostra. “As for you: keep the mic out of the shot, or you’re out of the club. Am I understood?” Nostra looked shocked. “But…b-but…!” “No buts!” snapped Vil, and gestured towards Philippe. “I allowed you and Felidae entry into the club only because Raphael assured me you would both be useful. But I’ve now tried you on every job possible, and you’ve flubbed every single one. Philippe, at least, makes for a good set guard to make sure no one interrupts shoots.” As if on cue, Philippe growled dangerously. Vil glared up at the giant, fat feline, unafraid. “I have just given you a compliment. Do not test me,” he said, very calmly. Philippe narrowed his eyes, but made no other sound. Raphael was sneering, fists clenched. “If Nostra goes, so do I,” he warned. “You say that as if it’s a threat,” Vil smirked slightly. “You can’t finish the film without me.” “Of course I can. Actors get replaced all the time in the business; even with the smaller pool Sage’s Island provides, I can easily find someone else to take the role of Ariel.” Raphael snarled softly, but didn’t say anything else. “Stop competing with me, Price,” Vil said, with a note of finality. “Or, rather, attempting to compete. I am the director here, as well as your housewarden-” “Both of those facts could change,” Raphael suggested, darkly. “Not likely,” snorted Vil. “You have no right to leadership here in this club, so don’t pretend as if you’d have a chance there. As for the dorm, I saw your attempt at creating a poison. It wasn’t even enough to put me to sleep.” Raphael flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and fury. Philippe growled again, baring his fangs, and began to advance on Vil… …Only to freeze up when Elias suddenly stepped in front of him, baring his own canine fangs. “Back off, pussycat,” the half-hound hissed. “If anybody eats Vil, it’s me.” Philippe blinked twice. You expected the cat to continue to move forward; after all, he was significantly larger than Eli was. Instead, however, the feline’s ears flattened back, and he stepped away, with a sort of “mrowl” that sounded like a cat trying to warn off an attacker. He still looked angry, but he had turned pale, as if he were scared. Elias smirked triumphantly, and looked back over his shoulder, giving Vil an encouraging sort of nod.

Vil just stared, a bit unsure how to take all of that. “Yes…ahem…well, thank you, Elias,” he muttered, then narrowed his eyes. “But I hope you know that I’m off the menu.” Eli just grinned and shrugged. Vil cleared his throat and then turned his attention back to Raphael and Nostra. “Let me make something clear to both of you,” he said. “Being the director, the housewarden, or any kind of leader doesn’t mean I am unreasonable. But all three of you…” Here he glanced towards Philippe again. “...Have shown nothing but rank insubordination practically since you entered this dorm. I try to be fair, but every person has their place, and yours is not to command. It’s to follow my directions; do so, and not only will you do well, but so will the whole project. Because that’s what I’m looking at: not just you, but everything.” He leaned down, getting closer to Raphael’s face. “A good leader keeps control. Of themselves and of their subordinates. They do what they can to make sure EVERYONE is working to the best of their abilities. And if something isn’t working? They either fix it or excise it. You’re too focused on your own selfish delusions of grandeur to think of anybody but yourself, Price.” “As if you ever think of anything but your reflection,” Raphael sniped back. Vil just looked at him icily. “This is your last chance,” he finally said. “We will redo the scene. And if any of you - ANY of you - cause this project any further grief, there will be no other chances. Take direction and accept the changes. Follow the leader, little rat.” Vil had uttered the last two words casually. They weren’t spoken as if meant as an insult, just a statement of the facts: the way one might call someone “little man,” or “little girl,” when speaking to a small boy or young lady. Nevertheless, the words seemed to have an intense effect; Nostra and Philippe both inhaled sharply, as Raphael’s eyes widened and he stiffened. “What was that?” Price whispered. “What was what?” Vil retorted. “What did you call me?” Price gulped, his fists shaking slightly. “Little rat,” replied Vil, calmly. “And when you earn my respect, perhaps I won’t say it again. But for now, Raphael, that’s all you really are: a little rodent, who tries to pretend to be something he’s not. Something larger, more important, and more worthy of attention than you truly can be.” Raphael’s eye twitched. For a moment, you expected him to yell again, and equally expected Vil to finally lose patience and finish the matter as he had promised.

Instead, Raphael took a deep, deep breath. His head twisted, oscillating in a curiously reptilian fashion as he seemed to crack his neck and regain his composure. A smile - slow and chilling - spread across his face, and he bowed the same head in supplication. “My apologies, housewarden,” he said, smoothly. “My temper was quite out of line, and my attitude towards you has been thoroughly unacceptable. I will do my best to live up to your standards, and cease this quarrel.” “See that you do,” Vil said, in a tone that indicated he didn’t trust any of that in the slightest. “Now, we’ve wasted enough time on this business. Elias, would you be against starting again right away?” “Give me just a few moments to put on the costume pieces I removed, and by all means, we can try again,” the dog boy promised. “Thank you,” Vil said, and barked his orders to the rest of the crew, declaring it was time to get back to work. For yourself and Grim, that meant hurrying to find the reflectors. As you did so, you glanced back towards the trio of Pomefiore upstarts. Philippe growled and backed away, ducking his head slightly, as Elias pushed past him with a sneer. Raphael and Nostra, meanwhile, kept their eyes on Vil. While the dorm leader had his back to them, they were both glaring daggers into it. You said nothing of the whole incident…but somehow, you had the distinct feeling this wasn’t the end of their argument.

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The following evening…

Vil Schoenheit frowned slightly as he let out a sigh, leaning back in the chair at his vanity table. His eyes closed as he let himself relax. There was a slight pain in his back, which was aggravating; perhaps he had been a little too overzealous during athletics that day. Shaking his head, Vil decided to forget the matter. Some good night’s rest would help, and he could focus on being his usual, fabulous self in the morning. He reached into the drawers of his vanity, fetching some makeup remover, ready to begin his nightly routine of preparing for bed. However, just as he was preparing to start, a knock came at the door. Vil frowned and looked up and back. He wasn’t expecting any visitors. “Rook?” he called out. “Is that you?” There was no answer. Perplexed, Vil stood up from his table and went to the door. He scowled, already expecting that perhaps some foolish young pranksters had decided to knock on his door and flee as an infantile joke. He sighed irritably; just what he needed, if so. More idiot children in his castle. The leader of the dorm opened the door. He blinked in some surprise at the figure he saw on the other side…then his expression turned frosty. “Oh, it’s you. What do you want here? I haven’t-wait. Hold on, what are you doing?! I won’t-!” ZZZAP!

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“Juuust whistle while you work! La-la la la-la-la-la…!” “Grim. I’m never going to get that song out of my head if you don’t stop murdering my eardrums with it.” “Sorry, it’s just so catchy!” You sighed and shook your head as you swept some dust into the dustpan Grim held near your feet. The two of you had a rare day off, and you decided it was time to give the lounge in Ramshackle Dorm a bit of a clean-up. You’d convinced your feline-esque friend to help out after promising him a whole dozen tuna cans as a reward. You paused, leaning on the broom and looking around the room, to see if there were any spots you’d missed. You frowned, noticing a cobweb in the corner near the ceiling. You approached, preparing to whisk it away with the broom… “Nya! Don’t touch that!” Grim exclaimed. “Huh? Why not?” “Don’t you remember? That’s Boris’ favorite cobweb!” “It is? I thought that was the cobweb in the dining room.” “No, that one’s Bela’s favorite.” “Oh. Well, thanks, Grim,” you smiled at the rare bit of help. After all, this WAS a haunted mansion: you had to be considerate to your ghost friends and their interests. Just as you were getting ready to call it a day and give Grim his promised reward for his assistance, you heard a knock at the door. You called out for whoever was there to wait as you leaned the broom against the wall, near the window, and then bustled to the entrance to see who was calling. The sight of a feathered hat and lavender hair immediately indicated the identities of the two people in Pomefiore outfits who stood upon the porch. “Epel! Rook! Come in!” you greeted, and stepped aside to allow the pair entrance. “Merci beaucoup, my dear Trickster,” Rook said, tipping his hat with a warm smile as he stepped through the portal. “How have you been, Prefect?” smiled Epel, in that sweet, doe-eyed way that totally belied his ability to send someone crashing into a brick wall if he chose.

“Mostly okay, I suppose,” you shrugged. “Nya! Hey, what about me?” huffed Grim, indignantly, stepping into view beside you. “Oui. Hello to you too, Monsieur Peluche,” Rook greeted. His eyes narrowed and his smile widened in a wolfish way, which always gave you the creeps despite yourself. He placed a finger to his chin, musingly. “You seem to have put on a little more weight…and your pelt looks most full and lush…have you been changing your fur shampoo lately?” Grim backed away nervously, eyeing Rook suspiciously. “H-How did you know that?” he meowed. “A hunter must always be perceptive,” Rook responded. “How about the two of you?” you asked, interjecting lest Rook get too far into his “hunter mode,” as you called it in private. “Something you need?” The pair of simple questions seemed to strike the smiles from the faces of both Pomefiore students. They glanced back and around, as if worried they might be being watched, then gestured for you to shut the door. Concerned by their reactions, you did so immediately. “What’s wrong?” you inquired. “Let’s gather in the kitchen,” Rook suggested. “Right,” Epel nodded. “It’ll be better if we sit down and explain.” You saw no reason to disagree: for one thing, you could give Grim his tuna while the two talked to you about whatever it was they needed. It wasn’t long till all four of you were seated at the kitchen table. Grim was greedily slurping up the contents of his tuna cans (you’d need to buy more soon, these twelve were the last you had), while Rook and Epel explained their problem in a nutshell. “Vil’s been acting strangely?” you recapitulated. “Oui,” said Rook, with a serious nod. “Le Roi du Poison has been behaving in a most un-beauteous manner.” “I don’t think that’s a word,” you replied, dryly. “It is the best description I can find,” shrugged Rook. “Vil’s always been a commanding presence, of course,” Epel put in. “But it’s been…different lately.” “Different in what way?” you asked for clarification. “I don’t exactly know how to describe it,” Epel admitted with a sigh, rubbing the back of his head as he tried to come up with some words. “I guess…the best way to put it is that Vil is usually an ice queen. You know what I mean, right?” You recalled Vil’s cold, frosty glances. The statuesque, strict way he carried himself. The stern, tough way he treated his underclassmen and the disdain he showed towards those he considered his enemies. One look from him was enough to make you feel criticized in an instant, and his emotions were kept in tight restraint, only occasionally allowing them to flow at extreme intervals beyond frustration and satisfaction.

“I think I do,” you said with a nod of your own. “Alas, for the Ice Queen has thawed most unbecomingly!” wailed Rook melodramatically. “To see his snowy beauty reduced to muddy puddles is a poison more bitter than any he could concoct!” “Could you say it in English, please?” drawled Grim, hiccuping between cans of tuna. “Vil’s been absolutely INSANE lately,” Epel explained. “He flies off the handle at anybody who doesn’t understand what he says. And I don’t mean he scolds them or makes some passive-aggressive remark, no, he starts SCREAMING, stomping his foot, like he’s having a tantrum! It’s even worse than Riddle’s rages!” You blinked, shocked. “That’s not like Vil at all,” you said, flatly. “Oh, it gets worse,” Epel said, grimly. “He orders everyone around like some prima donna-” “You say that as if he ISN’T a prima donna,” Grim snickered. “Not like this,” Epel defended. “He’s always going on and on about how HE’S in charge, how we should do what HE says. Anytime someone tries to stand up to him, he curses them and forces them to do labor in the dorm till they ‘behave themselves.’ He orders people to bring him food, and doesn’t even seem to remember anybody’s name anymore half the time!” You frowned, sharing a look with Grim. “Sounds like when Jamil tried to take over Kalim’s place,” you observed. “Nya. Kinda does,” Grim nodded, and tilted his head. “Do you think maybe Vil is under that hip-whatsis like Kalim was?” “Hypnosis,” you corrected, somewhat testily. “I doubt it,” Rook put in. “I don’t know anybody in Pomefiore skilled in such a talent, and neither Monsieur Multi nor a certain serpent have anything to gain from this that I can find.” “How long has this been going on?” “A week,” Epel said. “The first couple days, we thought it might just be that Vil was having some rough times or something, but it’s only gotten worse.” “How so?” The Pomefiore pair looked at each other and then back at you. “I have been the Roi du Poison’s faithful chevalier for a good while now,” Rook said. “He does not always AGREE with me, but the two of us have an excellent rapport. He listens to me, and I try to do my best by him.” “But he’s not listening to you anymore/” “Non!” Rook confirmed with a shake of his head, a look of dismay upon his features. “Instead, he turns his toxic eyes upon others he’s never trusted before!” Suddenly, a thought occurred to you. “Can I make a guess?” you said. “Has he been listening to that Raphael guy more?”

“How did you guess it was Monsieur Price?” gasped Rook. “I’ve never seen Vil show so much animosity towards anyone, except maybe Leona…nor anyone in Pomefiore towards him,” you explained. “If it’s someone that’s got you really concerned, he and his two friends seem the most likely candidates.” “Wow. It’s…kind of obvious when you put it that way,” blinked Epel. “Elementary, my dear Epel,” you said, in a jokingly hoity-toity way, then snickered to yourself before turning serious again: “What about Raphael’s boyfriend, or the bat, on that note?” “Philippe and Nostra?” Epel checked. “Well, here’s the answer in a nutshell: we’ve never seen Vil with Raphael, but he’s always talking about how ‘Raphael said this,’ or ‘Raphael wants that,’ and we’re expected to go along with that like he’s suddenly the only one Vil cares about! And whenever Vil is around, Nostra is ALWAYS with him.” “Always?” “Always,” confirmed Rook, gravely. “In the lounge, in class, in the cafeteria…anywhere Vil goes, he takes Nostra with him, with only the barest exceptions. Sometimes Philippe is there, too, but not always.” “And whenever Raphael is around, he threatens to tell Vil if we do anything he doesn’t like…a couple people made the mistake of questioning that, and I think they’ll be deaf for a year,” shuddered Epel. You winced at that thought and scratched your cheek. “Yeah…none of that sounds like the Vil we know,” you agreed. “Nya…but what do you want us to do about it?” wondered Grim. “Well, we’re actually not sure what you CAN do,” Epel admitted with a sigh. “But we weren’t sure who else to talk to besides you or the Headmage. And I think we all know who is more reliable there.” “I’d take that as high praise if Crowley wasn’t such a low bar to live up to,” you droned. “Could you come by the dorm in the near future?” Rook pressed. “Perhaps, my dear Trickster and Peluche, if you can see the problems with your own eyes, you could help us figure out what is ailing our beloved Roi du Poison.” I’ll do my best,” you promised. “And we can come by today.” “Right now?” Epel piped up hopefully. You agreed at once. After all, it WAS your day off. By now, it made sense that meant you’d have to spend it solving someone else’s problems. Honestly, there were days you felt you were the only thing keeping the whole campus from going up in smoke…

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You weren’t entirely sure what to expect when you entered Pomefiore. To be perfectly honest with all and sundry, you’d half-expected to walk in and discover nothing whatsoever amiss; while it was highly unlike Rook and Epel to be unduly alarmed, sometimes people make misjudgments, and pranks cannot be overlooked as options. Of course, you should have presumed better. All the same, you weren’t at all prepared for what you saw when you reached the lounge area. Vil was there, reclining upon the dorm leader’s reserved throne in its curtained alcove. He was garbed in the flowing, ornamental, regal arraignment of his Dorm Uniform. None of this was surprising…but what WAS surprising was the position you found Vil in. Vil was not sitting in a straight, tall, imposing sort of manner: instead, he was rather slothfully lounging in his throne, head in one hand, one leg kicking slightly as it crossed over the other. His green eyes were half-lidded, but lacked their usual sharpness; instead, he just looked…bored. His other hand held a bundle of grapes, and instead of plucking them off one by one, he was scraping them off the branches with his teeth, cheeks stuffed with fruit as he chewed, licking juice from his lips in a manner that wasn’t like Vil at all. To top it off, the Lounge seemed less like a “Lounge” and more like stepping into a throne room…mostly because you could see one Pomefiore student was standing beside the throne and fanning Vil with a large paper fan, while another was on their knees, using a mini-vac to clean up some spots on the carpeted floor. A third was scrubbing and wiping down the gilded walls to make them squeaky-clean, and a fourth was at the foot of the throne, shining up one of Vil’s boots. The whole scene felt like something from when Jamil had gone into Overblot, or perhaps if Leona got a little TOO full of himself (not that he wasn’t already, to be fair), more than anything you’d expect to see in Pomefiore. It only got stranger when Vil began speaking: he SOUNDED like Vil, in terms of the actual voice itself…but the words, the tone, and everything else seemed completely and totally wrong. “Fan harder, you luddite!” he snapped, swiping a hand at the student beside him. “I am SIZZLING in this blasted costume! Where is that lemonade I demanded?!” “H-Here, Housewarden!” a voice called out, as another student entered the room. They bowed before taking the grapes from Vil and offering him a glass of ice cold lemonade. Vil snatched it up with a snarl and a sneer, and took a sip…then the snarl and sneer intensified. “Too sour!” he exclaimed, and (admittedly inadvertently) kicked the person at his feet as he stood up fast, glaring down at the one who had brought him the drink. “What swill is this?!” “Y-You wanted it handmade!” peeped the student, trembling. “I-I’ve never tried before, it-” “NO EXCUSES!” bellowed Vil, and pointed off. “One more chance! Get it right! GO!”

With an “eep!” of fright, the student zoomed off again. A rough, snickering laugh alerted you to the presence of Nostra Feratu. The bat-boy was standing on the opposite side of the throne from the student with the fan, and was filing his nails, a sort of mean smirk on his face. He raised an eyebrow, his ears pricking up, when he heard the student on the floor mumble something under his breath. “Hey, boss,” he called out to Vil, and pointed with the nail file at the student. “I think somebody’s got something to say.” Vil glanced towards Nostra, then looked down at the student with the mini-vac. Said student froze up at the look in the acid green eyes. “Well?” Vil sniffed, crossing his arms. “HAVE you got something to say?” “N-No, Housewarden, I-” “Ohhhh, I think you DO,” smirked Vil, leering down at the student as he approached, like a tiger stalking its prey. “Come now. What’s the matter? Does someone think I’m being a little unfair? Hmmm?” Vil’s voice was a mocking, petty croon; again, very unlike the proprietorial dorm head. The student with the vacuum bit their lip and shook their head. Vil smirked wider, a look of victory on his face, and playfully patted the student on the head. “Good boy,” he cooed…then sneered and smacked their cheek. “Now. Back to work.” The student obeyed in an instant.Vil then glanced back at the one shining up the walls, quickly; the student, who had been giving him a dirty look behind his back, immediately looked away. Vil smiled smugly, and began to return to his throne. He stuck his nose up and waved his hands in a shooing motion at the one with the shoe shine. They instantly took off in another direction. “Nostra? Remind me to tell Raphael we need to assign new students to clean-up duty soon,” he sighed irritably. “Good help is so hard to find these days…” “Maybe we oughta let Philippe handle the rejects?” suggested Nostra. At the mention of the corpulent catboy, everyone shuddered and groaned with a sense of dread. “Perhaps,” nodded Vil, thoughtfully, drumming his fingers on the armrest of his chair and letting out a yawn. “I’ll ask those two, we’ll see.” While all this was going on, yourself, Grim, and the Pomefiore duo were hiding behind the wall, peering around the corner. You all ducked back. “See what we mean?” Epel whispered. “Nya…this isn’t right,” frowned Grim, then looked up at you. “How come he gets pampered and my Minion doesn’t even brush my fur some days?” “Way to miss the point, Grim,” you sighed in annoyance. “This is not even the worst,” Rook said, gravely. “The Roi du Poison has always been strict, but…well…the newest form of punishment he’s concocted is-” “HOW DARE YOU?!”

All four of you jumped at Vil’s shout. You looked into the lounge again. The student with the lemonade had returned…but, evidently, had tripped over the student on the floor, spilling the lemonade all over Vil’s dorm uniform. Vil seethed with fury, fingers clawing at the air, as the two groveled at his feet. “It was an accident, Housewarden!” whimpered the Drink Server. “It won’t happen again!” pleaded the Cleaner. Vil glared, breathing heavily…then let out a heavy sigh, calming down. “Oh, my dear Bartholomew…Sebastian…I’m afraid you’ve both gone and upset me…” Vil grinned devilishly - a look of pure, maniacal spite that you had only seen him wear once before, and that was when he was covered in inkstains as he sought to destroy his rival. He reached into his robes, as the two students looked up with pale looks of terror. “You know what happens,” Vil said, darkly, “When someone upsets me now.” Nostra, the student by the wall, and the student with the fan, all stopped what they were doing. They looked on with apprehension, as Vil pulled a golden bell from the folds of his robe and gave it a ring. RING-A-DING! Heavy footsteps filled the Lounge…and a few moments later, a vast shadow crept across the carpeted floor. The two students that had upset Vil screamed and clawed at his robes, begging him to forgive them, but Vil just yawned, as if he didn’t even hear them. Moments later - as you frankly expected - Philippe Felidae entered the Lounge. Vil didn’t say anything to him, just made a sort of dismissive gesture towards the pair clinging to him. Philippe smirked, mrowled, and grabbed hold of the two, hoisting them clean off their feet and into the air. “You know what to do,” Vil said with a smile. “Don’t hurt them permanently.” Philippe licked his chops and nodded, and lumbered off, hauling the wailing students off with him. You had a good feeling of what he was going to do to them, and it would have made you blush under other circumstances.

“Let’s move,” you hissed to the others. “I’ve seen enough.” Grim, Rook, and Epel all nodded in agreement, and the four of you quickly but carefully moved away from the Lounge and began to walk back towards the exit from Pomefiore. “What are we gonna do?” Epel sighed. “Vil’s out of control!” “Wrong,” you said. “Vil’s not out of control. Vil isn’t in control at all.” “Isn’t that the same thing?” Grim wondered, crinkling his snout. You shook your head seriously. “Out of control indicates Vil is still there,” you answered. “What are you talking about?” Epel blinked, and pointed back where you’d come from. “Vil IS still there!” You narrowed your eyes, then looked at Rook, who was walking with his eyes dead-set forward. “You’ve been watching him,” you presumed. “Have you come to the same conclusion I have?” Rook glanced towards you, then looked ahead again…but not before giving a sharp nod. “Oui,” he said. “I believe I have.” “Would you two just spill the beans?!” spat Grim, moving in front of the group and halting your progress. “What’s really goin’ on here?!” “If you both think you know, why not just tell us?” Epel urged in agreement. You and Rook paused. You looked at each other, then Rook addressed the other two. “The Roi du Poison isn’t acting like himself…” “...Because,” you finished, “The ‘Roi du Poison’ ISN’T himself.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” “Isn’t it obvious, Epel?” you hissed, and this time it was you who pointed back. “What we just saw wasn’t Vil losing his mind and becoming a tyrant.” You glanced back with a foreboding look in your eyes, then looked meaningfully into Epel’s own, voice lowering an octave for impact… “What we just saw wasn’t Vil at all.”

To Be Continued in Part Two…

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kayla-crazy-stuffs · 1 year

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Two families connected

Here I come with a the new fairy au fic pt 1 :D

You can see Punz's reference here and Dream's here :]

Enjoy (Also, here you go @brick-a-doodle-do :])

WC: 1.1K :)

TW: Safe/soft vore (at the end tho), small injury and fearplay (kinda?)

It was early in the morning, you could hear the sheets moving as the young fairy changed position to a more comfortable one.

After a few minutes there were small knocks on his door followed by a soft voice. "Punz honey, it's time to get up.” The fairy gave a small grunt before stretching and getting out of bed. "Coming mom..."

He prepared himself before leaving the room and being greeted by his mother. "You have breakfast on the table and when you're done I need you to help me with some things." Punz nodded, sitting down to eat breakfast.

He looked at the empty place at the table before looking at her mother. "Dream isn't up yet...?" He asked, a bit confused since she always woke them up together. “I am letting him sleep a little more, because he has not been able to sleep until very late.”

"But when I went to bed he was already asleep. Has he had a nightmare again?" His mother nodded before speaking. "Have you finished?" Punz nodded. "Okay, could you go pick a couple of cherries of the clearing?" Punz nodded again.

"Sure, anything to help mom." His mother ruffled his hair, giggling when he complained that he had just done his hair. "Be careful, okay?" "I will, don't worry." he said with a smile before flying off toward the clearing.

The mother continued doing things around the house until the door to one of the rooms opened, revealing an even younger fairy. "Morning mommy…” “Good morning Dream dear, are you better?” The boy nodded, heading towards his mother, who picked him up in her arms and shortly after sat him down at the table.

"Time for breakfast then" she said with a smile. Dream ate some of his breakfast before looking at her mother. “Mommy… where is Punz…?” "He's gone to get something for mommy, okay?" Once she said that, the boy got up from the table heading towards the entrance. "Dream, where are you going?"

"I'm going to go find Punz!" he said cheerfully before flying off like Punz had. His mother's eyes widened, quickly heading towards the entrance to try to stop him "Dream, wait!" but he was already gone. If her wings had been alright, she would have stopped him, but she was no longer able to fly, which made it impossible. She hoped nothing happened to him.

The green fairy flew around looking for his older brother, but was unable to find him. Maybe he should have waited at home, but… which way was home? The little boy looked around trying to remember where he had come from, but he couldn't. Suddenly a noise caught his attention, looking up, his eyes widening in fear.

A few meters above, there was a crow staring at him until it decided to go for him. Dream managed to get out of the way when it attacked him and quickly tried to fly away, but the crow was close behind. Dream managed to dodge for a while, but he started to get tired, something really normal since he was still a kid.

In a short time the crow managed to tear a bit from one of the fairy's wings, sending him down to the floor. His wings trembled with fear and she closed her eyes,waiting what will happen soon

A minute passed and next he was gently lifted off the ground. By human hands.

By…Human…Hands…

Dream looked up in terror, coming face to face with bright orange eyes that looked at him curiously. “I have never seen a fairy! Luckily I got you before that bird did it!” said the human, who appeared to be only a couple of years older than Dream, happily. "I have to show you to my parents!" he said before holding Dream gently to his chest and running towards his house.

Dream let out a sob, tears beginning to fall down his cheeks. He wanted to go back home but surely, the human will keep him as a pet. The human soon arrived at his house, quickly heading towards where his parents were, the living room. "Dad, papa, look what I found!" he said excitedly, holding the fairy up to his parents so they could see him.

The two adults looked at him, both with different expressions. The taller and demonic looking one, looked in surprise, while the shorter one with diamond parts on his skin, looked in shock. “But, Sapnap..”

“A bird has injured him, so I have brought him because you can help him, right?" he said, not realizing that one of his parents had left the room. "It's not that easy, Sappy... It may take a while for his wing to heal and he surely has a family to return to." Sapnap pouted.

"Please dad... Just for a few days..." He tried to convince him. The older only letting out a sigh. “Okay..- Wait, Skeppy..? Take care of the fairy for a second, I'm going to find Skeppy, okay?" Sapnap nodded looking at the fairy in his hands with a smile, not noticing his sobs.

Bad walked out of the living room, looking for the other around the house until he found him sitting on the bed in their shared room. "Skeppy... are you alright?" The shorter one tried to avoid the look.

"Y-Yeah, aha.. W-Why wouldn't I be?" Bad sighed approaching the other and sitting next to him. "Skeppy... what's wrong...?" he asked once more, concerned for the other.

Skeppy let out a long breath as he ran both hands over his face before looking at Bad. "Do you know the fairy that Sapnap brought?”

Bad nodded, not understanding what the fairy had to do with this. "Yeah…? Is there something wrong with that…?" He asked. “Uh… well… He… is my son…”

“He is your what!???” He said a little surprised by the revelation. Of course he knew Skeppy's secret because he told him, but he didn't know that he had a son. “I didn't know you had a son..-”

“Two. I have two... Although the other one is a little bit older... I was planning to tell you but not yet...” he said, rubbing his arm.

"Calm down Geppy, we'll take care of him for a bit of time and then we'll take him back to his home, okay?" Skeppy nodded.

“But please don't let anything happen to him..” Bad hugged his husband before leaving the room saying “Don't worry, okay? We will take good care of him."

He headed back to the living room, his eyes widening. "Sapnap!" The kid didn't look at him until he finished sucking the rest of the fairy into his mouth before swallowing. "Yeah?" He said to him with a smile. Oh God… They were going to be some very long days.

#mcyt g/t #mcyt gt #dsmp g/t #dsmp gt #tiny!dream #tiny!punz #fairy!punz #fairy!dream #giant!sapnap #giant!badboyhalo #giant!bad #giant!skeppy #tw vore #safe vore #soft vore #only at the end tho #new fairy au

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sleeptokeninterpretations · 10 months

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Sleep Token’s “Take Me Back To Eden” and the five stages of grief

So I have had an idea for a possible interpretation for the album Take Me Back To Eden and as far as I have seen an interpretation with this idea has only been provided for Sundowning so far so I figured I’d give it a try.

Essentially what I’m seeing as a possible interpretation is Take Me Back To Eden expressing the five stages of grief after a suicide of a loved one, in particular a romantic partner. How I came to this idea? Let’s have a look.

TW: we will deal with the topics death, suicide and grief here.

Denial

Why would a song about death and grieving begin with two songs that sound more like an offering (see what I did there) to a lover rather than a sad song?

I think there are two reasons why the album starts with these songs. One of them is the stage of denial. When grieving, many people either feel numb or ever carry on like nothing ever happened in an attempt to ignore the issue. Both Chokehold and The Summoning can be seen as attempts to write about a passed loved one like nothing ever happened.

However I believe there is another reason. Throughout the album we watch the speaker go through a variety of emotions caused by the loss of a loved one. By starting the album with Chokehold and The Summoning, we are to understand how intense the relationship between the speaker and their lover was so we can empathise better with the emotions displayed in the course of the album.

Anger

Moving on to the second stage, anger, which is dealt with in Granite.

Now if you’ve wondered why I think the album might be about grieving after a suicide specifically, the explanation for this is mainly found in songs expressing anger. We will get back to this when talking about anger within the stage of depression but we can find some references in Granite already. It appears that the speaker is mad at their lover for not expressing their feelings before their death. Specifically “we’d rather be six feet under than be lonely” suggests that the loved one has not expressed their negative feelings out of fear the speaker might leave them. A similar theme is dealt with in the line “You say you want me but you know I’m not what you need”.

Bargaining

See, with Aqua Regia and Vore it gets a little bit tough and I definitely find it hard to find lines actually referring to this state but we’ll work with it.

I think Aqua Regia could be understood as the speaker offering to go through the same pain as their loved one in an attempt to get them back, kind of like “come back, I’ll be in pain with you”.

Vore goes in a similar direction, the speaker is trying to make themselves relatable (“Are you in pain like I am”), hoping that this might bring their loved one back.

Again this is very brief (and analysing Aqua Regia has always given me a headache) so I will keep it at this.

Depression

We enter the fourth stage, depression. This is by far the longest stage with five whole songs, which quite naturally shows how grief isn’t linear.

Ascensionism is a whole emotional ride on it’s own and can almost be seen as a trip through different stages within the grieving process.

I would still consider this to be part of the depressive stage. “Anything’s better than the way I feel right now” definitely suggest this.

Lines like “you make me wish I could disappear” might feel a little out of place here as they seem to be directed at a person who has hurt the speaker, however I believe the line is to be understood as “by disappearing out of my life, you make me wish I could disappear”.

Though as mentioned before, Ascensionism is a whole ride on its own and I will definitely write an interpretation on this song alone at some point.

Next we have Are You Really Okay?, definitely one of the main reasons that led me to this interpretation in the first place.

Here we have the speaker clearly expressing desperation and helplessness (“I want to help you but I don’t know how”) and we are confronted with the speaker being well aware of their lover’s mental struggles way before their death. The lyrics of this song are also the main reason I believe the album is dealing with grief after a suicide specifically since here we have a bunch of references to mental health struggles.

Now for The Apparition and DYWTYLM we can see an interesting shift in the feelings. If we stick to the 5 stages of grief we would still be in the stage of depression, however we can see the speaker circling back to anger.

It’s important to know that the stages of grief are to be understood as a “guideline” to what grief can look like when we observe people dealing with illness or loss, yet they do not necessarily have to appear in this exact order, grief is rarely linear.

Additionally we need to understand that a less commonly known symptom of depression is anger, so the anger expressed by the speaker can be understood as a symptom of the depressive state rather than a separate stage.

The Apparition seems to deal with the speaker (day-)dreaming about their loved one, however they keep circling back to reality and realise that those dreams are only based on memories and events that no longer can happen in the present.

Examples for this would be lines like “Why are you never real”, “But I know you will disappear just as I awake” or “Loaded dreams still leave me empty”.

What we can see here quite well is a combination of depression and anger. The speaker is angry with their passed loved one, they basically yell at them to finally leave their thoughts and stop haunting their dreams. At the same time they express the depression and feeling of emptiness that those dreams leave them with.

Now DYWTYLM continues the theme of depression in combination with anger while switching the topic. The speaker now asks for answers on questions that potentially deal with the suicide of their loved one. Simultaneously the speaker understands the death as an offense against themselves, they assume that their loved one has expressed a lack of love for the speaker by ending their own life.

Two things are important here. One, this does not mean that the speaker is self centred, it does not even mean they genuinely hold this belief. Looking for the “bad guy” is a very natural process in grieving, essentially the brain is trying to provide answers to questions that cannot actually be answered. Two, while the song is titled DYWTYLM and therefore the focus is easily on the emotion of anger, I don’t believe this is the actual focus here. Rather than that we can look at all the questions in the verses like “Do you pull at the chains? Or do you push into constant aching?” or “Is there something you give? That you will never receive in return?” While the anger in lines like “maybe not that you conceal your feelings, they just don’t exist” cannot and should not be ignored, I believe the main theme here is the speaker making an attempt at understanding the emotions that eventually caused the death. Furthermore the speaker briefly expresses their own sadness specifically in the line “my reflection just won’t smile back at me like I know it should”.

Lastly for the fourth stage we have Rain.

I put this under the stage of depression but I do think there is a good reason this is the last song in this stage.

The speaker is looking back on their love “the vicious cycle was over the moment you smiled at me” but we are still slowly fading into the stage of acceptance.

The last line in the bridge “When I open my eyes to the future I can hear you say my name” could be seen as an expression for the very common phrase “they would want you to move on”.

When the speaker thinks about the future, he imagines his lover guiding them a way into said future.

Acceptance

We now enter the stage of acceptance with the last two songs and I believe acceptance refers to two different things in this case, accepting one’s own feelings and finally the actual death.

In Take Me Back To Eden, the speaker mostly attempts at validating their own feelings. In the first verse, they let themselves indulge in memories of the past, in the second verse they express how they have been experiencing the journey of grieving.

One line I want to talk about in particular can be found in the third verse.

“That we’ve no idea what we’ve got until we lose it and no amount of love will keep it around if we don’t choose it.”

I think this is such a powerful way to express both the fear of not having appreciated the significant other while they were alive and the realisation that the speaker themselves can’t be blamed, the death of their loved one was not to be prevented by the speaker just loving their partner more.

Last but not least, let’s move over to Euclid.

We have to understand the death of a loved one does not mean one has moved on entirely. One can simultaneously accept while still being desperate, sad or helpless.

“Give me five whole minutes” may refer to the feeling of wanting to relive the time experienced with the person just a little bit longer. Generally the first verse refers to this exact feeling, getting lost in one’s memories and wanting back the old times just a little longer. If we think about lines like “Give me one last ride on a sunset sky lane”, we can see the speaker almost begging their lost love to come back for just a little bit. This could also be connected to a very common feeling in the process of grief, where one wants to go back to times with the loved one to experience the moments together more consciously.

“Call me when you get the chance, I can feel the walls around me closing in” appears to be the speaker wanting to talk to the loved person they lost while already being aware they won’t actually receive in an answer.

The second verse continues the theme of wanting back the loved one, however the speaker expresses the awareness that they are gone.

“I play along with the life signs anyway” seems to describe the process of slowly getting back into one’s daily life while slowly moving on from actively grieving.

Now as I already mentioned, moving back into your daily life and moving on, does not mean you entirely forget about the person.

“Yet in reverse, you are all my symmetry, a parallel I would lay my life on” can be understood as an attempt to express that the speaker does not want to forget about the person they lost, maybe they have learned a lot of valuable life lessons from that person and want to remember those things in their future life.

“Call me when you have the time, I just need to leave this part of me behind” basically concludes this feeling that has been building up over the second verse, the speaker clearly expresses that they feel the need to move on with their life.

Now for the sake of interpretation we are not going to look into the last verse being a reference to TNDNBTG and just look at lyrics on their own.

The first part of the lyrics once more shows the speaker reminiscing as in the line “We tangle endlessly, like lovers entwined”.

Now let’s have a look the last few lines.

“I know for the last time, you will not be mine, so give me the night.”

The speaker seems to reflect on their own process of grieving while also coming to terms with the fact that their loved one has passed away. They know they cannot be together like they used to be and are ready to go on with their life. “Give me the night” can be understood as an expression that the speaker is ready for new challenges, memories and experiences.

I obviously don’t know if this is the meaning intended by Vessel (if you ask my literature professor the meaning intended by the author doesn’t have to concern me either way).

However I think that it deepens the understand of songs like Are You Really Okay or Euclid and provides a rather new perspective on songs like DYWTYLM.

#sleep token #sleep token lyrics #interpretation #song lyrics #vessel #i wrote this in my english class while actively not paying attention #song analysis

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