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art-crumbs-main · 3 months

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Hello. This is a oneshot fic about the cursed cat Alastor on my dash I wrote in 2 hours. No beta, we die like demons.

A.K.A, where Alastor went for 7 years. Whether I finish this is up on the wall, but I haven't written in a while and have been dying to. Here's a drabble to get it out of my head. Hope you enjoy.

CW: murder basement, implied cannibalism, Alastor being a prick, three dickhead cats

It is a happy day in Hell, and you are a horrible cat.

Your name is Alastor, and due to some unfortunate circumstances of a deal you made to save your own hide, you have found it transformed. If a bit inconvenient, your new body isn't terrible-- it doesn't quite strike fear the way it used to, but it's quite covert and just as deadly. Being something so unassuming most certainly has its perks, and you're not going to complain about all of the new information you've gained about your new surroundings. Not to mention, anything, frankly, other than a dog is fine by you, and (you're sure) by Rosie, for that matter.

Yes, your old friend, Rosie. Naturally, you're on her way to her now. You'd managed to find her in your afterlife pre-predicament, and while you know she won't recognize you at first, you're counting on the fact that she has a certain fondness for the softer things in life. Cannibal Town has been a godsend, truly the only place in Hell you immediately felt like you belonged, and finding someone you knew and quite cherished in life there didn't hurt to mould a rather high opinion of the place.

You find her at once after walking through town, of course, and who wouldn't? That distinct voice could turn heads from across the room. Or, better yet, across the square as she announces she would be off shift for tea. Tail up in the air and head cocked, you pad into town hall and find her back in a rather cozy study, munching on a bit of demon flesh with her cup. It smells fresh, and the blood coating her lips is immediately enticing, but it is far more important to get her attention first and foremost.

Swallowing your pride, you make your way across the room to her, and rub against her leg, a horrible chattering sound escaping your feline throat. You despise so much bodily contact most of the time, but Rosie has always felt rather safe to you. As such, it's not as abhorrent as you expect, and it's quite effect. You hear her gasp and you know you'd gone about this correctly.

“Oh?? Who's this, findin' his way into my private area?” She picks you up and places you on her lap. You feel small. You don't like it. She strokes you, and the fur on your tail stands on end. If she takes notice, she doesn't show it. “I'm on break, y'know, little guy! Oh, but I can't say no to a face like that... I'll take an appointment. Just for you.” Unable to thank her, rather sardonically, you make a crackling noise that resembles absolutely nothing even close to human speech. She laughs --a bright sound that made your ears flick fondly-- and scratches behind your ears. Most embarrassingly, you find yourself leaning into it. It does really feel quite nice... You lay down on her lap, suppressing the infernal motor wishing to spark to life in your chest. You must preserve whatever small dignities you have left.

Your eyes open (you're rather startled to find that they had ever closed) when Rosie offers you something from her plate, the darling. You have a passing thought about such things being unsanitary, but you don't object. You swipe it from her and take it with your rather useless mittens, licking and gnawing at it with hooked tongue and sharp teeth. She coos at you some more, which is rather embarrassing, but you can't say you didn't expect, and you let it fade into the background as you start figuring out how to divise a plan to make Rosie aware of who you really are and what you've become. You're not entirely sure why, but you have a distinct feeling she can help you. More than anyone else.

You wouldn't dare summon one of your soul contracts, after all. Sure, you could always threaten them into silence, but it's about the principle of the thing. Husk, for instance, would probably laugh in your face, and you can't have your reputation tarnished as such. Niffty... you have no idea what she'd do. Rather unpredictable, that one, though you quite appreciate her unhinged company. Anyone else is either dead by now, or too far beneath you for you to possibly offer you anything useful. You're startled from your deep train of thought by Rosie nudging you into a standing position. “Well, alright, this engagement has been lovely, but I'm gonna need my legs to work, I'm afraid!"

You nodand jump off of her, and she regards you with a funny sort of expression. Too busy to dwell, you suppose, she shrugs it off for the time being and returns to her post. You can only hope that she'll put together that something isn't quite right. Finding yourself alone, you decide to explore.

You'd been in Rosie's dwelling enough times, but never like this. Everything is so big compared to you, and the weight of it all pins your ears flat to your skull. In annoyance, mind, not intimidation. You're not as mobile, nor do you have the same perspective on life that you used to, and that's going to make investigating difficult.

What you're hoping to find, plain and simple, is something that could help you signal to Rosie that you're not some mindless beast. You note her radio with a certain pride. You're sure even before you found her, knowing her tastes, she probably listened to your show... Oh, your show. You can't possibly run it in a form like this. You can't talk! All you can do with your given vocal chords is screech into a microphone and hope someone finds it appealing. You sigh. Passions will have to be grieved at a later date. There are other things you would do better to focus your energy on.

You search the kitchen and the larder. Fresh meat is hanging from meat hooks in a chilled section of the place. You sniff at it, and its sharp smell confirms your suspicions. Rosie must have made a deal recently. You walk out of there, manipulating the doorknobs as such, and pad back into her parlor. There's a table and cozy chairs, and bookshelves-- those could be an option. After all, if you saw a cat reading a book, you would certainly think to question it. You'll reserve it as an option. It could be good if you finish exploring and need something to pass the time.

You skip over her chamber. It's not your place to go snooping in a lady's quarters uninvited. Besides, you're sure you won't necessarily find anything of use in it. You also skip over the restroom. Anything that could help you in there, isn't necessarily something you want anything to do with.

The basement is locked, but that poses little obstacle to you. You still have some of your powers, after all. You only have to look at it for it to click and open for you, the door swinging on its hinges. You suppose you could always show Rosie your magic, but you're not sure that would be enough on its own to tell her not just what, but who you are. You trust in her intelligence, but even you think you might not be able to figure it out just by the cat possessing telekinesis. Sure enough, it is Hell. There are stranger things afoot (or a-paw, you suppose) than a cat with psychic abilities.

You descend the stairs and your ears immediately prick at the moans of the wretched. You hear someone start to beg for their life, and another person exhale a gurgly breath. Your tail waves contentedly. The sounds of the broken and destitute never fail to bring up your day. Upon seeing that you are apparently small and cuddly, the begging stops short, and the poor soul it was coming from slumps back into despair. Rosie has to keep her surplus fresh, you suppose. What better way than alive? You pad up to her more lively prisoner and jump up on his lap, fixing him with a gaze devoid of sympathy.

In a desperate bid to self-soothe, he reaches up to pet you.

You bite him.

He swears, rather uncouth, you think, and attempts to swat you away from him. You evade expertly and swat back, swiping him across the face. He clutches his newly-bleeding wound and cries out. You land and turn up your chin, turning tail while you're at it, and pad back towards the stairs. You're not sure what he expected, behaving so rudely. Touching you without your permission. The nerve. The audacity. The pure entitlement! You stop at the base of the stair to lick the blood from your paw. Rather unbecoming of you to be covered in the essence of such simple-minded, inconsiderate filth.

At the top of the incline, three pairs of eyes shine down at you from their shadows. They whisper amongst themselves, before the leader of them trills down at you. To your surprise, you understand her perfectly. Mrrrow? “Just who are you?" You stop grooming and cock your head.

Prrrip! Purr-- purreow. “Who am I! You've some nerve-- I admire that.” You start up the stairs. Rrrreow. Mr-mrreow! “I've just as much right to be here as any of you, and you should know already that this bid for intimidation you've got going on isn't about to work.” The others bristle. A low growl comes from the ringleader's throat.

Rrrrrrrrrrrr... “Do watch yourself, stranger. When I asked you who you are, I meant it earnestly. Your smell is strange to me.” She hisses. “I suggest you mind your manners and answer my question to save us all quite a bit of trouble. Are you new? A stray?” You narrow your eyes.

Prrr! “Trouble! Oh, dear, well, surely no one would want that," you shoot back playfully, “And just what kind of "trouble" might I be inviting?” One of her posse finally gathers the nerve to speak for herself.

Rrrrrrrroooooowwwwww... “For you? The trouble of being torn to shreds. For us? The trouble of picking your sinew from our teeth.” You trill, amused.

Chrrrreow! “Hahaha! My, how assured of yourselves you must be. It's adorable, ladies, really. This has been fun, but let me on by, if you would. I need to keep looking for ways to communicate with your master.” They look at each other, seem to come to an agreement, and part for you. You walk past them, tail waving, entirely expecting what happens next.

The three of them, in their combined power, pounce upon you and begin trying to do as they threatened. You let them tear you up a bit --it'll make your case when you go running to Rosie far more convincing-- before you strike back, summoning your lovely pet to knock them away with its numerous shadowy limbs. They skid across the floor one by one and scatter, fur on end. A bunch of fraidy cats after all, you suppose. You hear Rosie enter the room, drawn by the commotion, you suppose.

“Mr. Radio Demon!” she scolds. You look up at her. Wait, what? She sighs. “Oh, what, you thought I wouldn't recognize the feeling of your power? Give me some credit, Al.” She interrupts your relief as she picks you up by the scruff, resting her hand on her hip. You attempt to struggle, but this is apparently your weak point-- your body is useless like this. Embarrassing as it is, it's somewhat comforting. It sort of reminds you of when you mother would grab you by your ear to scold you as a child. “Now, just what are you doin', terrorizing my cats.” Your tail waves with annoyance. They attacked YOU. Not your fault you defended yourself. After a pause, you realize she expects you to answer her. You stare at her, rather deadpan. You open your mouth and meaninglessly chatter at her.

This seems to trigger her realization.

Only just now apparently deciding to be of help, your shadow comes around and taps Rosie on the shoulder. It communicates via gestures that you're not in this form of your own will, and can't speak, and she arches her eyebrow. Then, she bursts into laughter, setting you on the floor. “Oh! Oh, Lord, what kinda mess did you get yourself into this time?" She wipes at her eye. “I'll tell you what, let me finish my work day, and then I'll call around and see what we can do to get you back to your regular imposing self, hmm?”

You blink at her in acknowledgement, irritation (however fond) plain in your gaze, and she just laughs again. “Oh, pray I don't change my mind! You're adorable! Y'know how much I like a fluffy thing with whiskers.” She kneels down and pets you, smoothing out your fur and scratching behind your ears again. They pin flat, but you don't shy away from her.

You have a feeling it's going to be a long time waiting.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin #alastor hazbin hotel #cursed cat alastor #fanfiction #oneshot #radiorose qpr #writing #writeblr #hazbin hotel rosie #hazbin rosie #hazbin fanfic

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weaselbeaselpants · 6 months

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K absolutely none of this is connected to her shows and her worker drama it's unrelated; but I'm not gonna lie Viv's Japan vacation where she's showing herself with a bunch of animal cafes is really starting to piss me off.

The deer being fed I think are wild, I don't have anything to say about that. But the owl cafes, the otter cafe, the marine park.

Look here! I'm not anti-captivity, honest (though AZA is hard to trust when they legit have an approval rating on Seaworld), but I really am skeeved out by so-called zoos and attractions that let you pet the animals, kind of especially if they aren't domesticated animals but exotics. Though, tbh even dog/cat pet shelters or whatever sound pretty hectic to eat at. Also, feels a little unsanitary. But even if that weren't a problem I just...kind of don't like anything where the animals are literally tied down and can't escape from you. It's the same reason I and a lot of other people don't like those pony-rides at fairs. The whole time you're worried about the animal's safety and happiness and also you aren't having any real connection to them.

Watching animals in an enclosure that's nice where they're just doing their thing >>> having to pet the animal. Not that I'm immune to propaganda and wouldn't absolutely volunteer to clean up scat if it meant I could hold a weasel being rehabilitated to the wild for a hot minute. I would 100% do that (it'd bite. Don't care). But there's that and then there's me getting to bond with a weasel that's shock collared or chained somehow and can't escape from me. That doesn't sit right.

And no. I don't care if it's in another country it's still wrong by a lot of global standards. In fact, I think it's kind of weird that people are doing the "respect other cultures"-thing only when it comes to Instagramable stories.

Ya'll have to realize it's not just yuppie American vegangelicals complaining. There are animal rights orgs in Thailand fighting elephant tourism, there ARE animal rights orgs in Japan and they do not like the animal cafes. Animal rights/welfare aren't some kind of 'annoying' American pastime. Why do you think Milo and Otis was controversial? Why do you think Padak exists? Respecting other cultures and their practices means: letting indigenous people hunt the animals they've been hunting for thousands of years, which of course isn't always going to be pretty cause that's what traditional hunting IS; it's allowing ritual animal slaughter in spaces and religions where that's done to feed the community and not as torture or sacrifice. And personally, as a mostly vegetarian, I say right on to both of those things.

Zoos, farms, petting zoos, aquariums and sanctuaries are YMMV, but I vouch for them in theory and usually in practice. Animal cafes and marine parks? I'm sorry but I can't not see those as being tourism and exploitive at best. Especially marine parks.

Viv straight up did a pic based on Blackfish but I guess that doesn't matter in Japan. I'm really disappointed in her as someone who loves animals. Because hey- when you as a human-animal love the other creatures of this earth, of course things like our rights come first. Humans are just that kind of animal and I don't think there's anything wrong with taxidermy or vulture culture. But, especially as an adult, you should know how to take care of animals and it should be your responsibility as their caretaker to give them the best care you have.

There's a petshop near where I (no longer in a few weeks) work. It used to hate that place cause I saw a rat eating another rat's baby alive among other abuses and the owner straight up didn't give a shit, not about the rat or that he was putting smaller reptiles in cages with monitor lizards. You can guess how that ended.

That place has new owners now. It mostly has animals there in transition. While they still have feeders (I know, that's prolly controversial to the reptile parents reading), their conditions have really improved. No crowding the rats, even the feeders, in unsafe unventilated places. They get REALLY mad if you tap the glass on the cages. No more keeping lovebirds apart from birds so that they're always calling. Betafish males get actual decorated tanks to themselves instead of those depressing bowls! If petstores and units where you pick up your expensive reptiles, fish and birds from HAVE to exist, I'd rather they be places like this. Places where the staff are trying and really do seem to love and want the best for their animals while expecting nothing fancy from the animals in return.

I'd love to be proven wrong on this- I remember seeing a yt vid for a bed and breakfast where you ate outside with the cows that made the dairy you're eating, and them being cows they of course wanted to come up and say hi to the guests. Of course I'd love that '' magical '' experience with an animal while I'm enjoying my coffee. But I just can't trust cafes and exotic petting zoos like this. My family has veterinarians, farmers, vegans and vegetarians, and FFA graduates in it. I'm just really concerned about the little things like this.

I know in my heart that of course Viv doesn't want to hurt any animals- but it bothers me.

Thoughts @chaifootsteps @derangedhyena-delphinidae?

#animal rights #animal welfare #conservation #animal rights activist #vivziepop critical

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radinclus-not-radqueer · 9 months

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PLEASE give the gosip on safetypinz i hate their guts

I won't give out any personal details (like accounts or anything) but here are some of what I've seen (although I've never spoken to them, I used to be in servers with them):

They're really fucking weird and gross. Like, constantly posting unsanitary shit untagged. I think they have paraphilias related to that stuff which is the excuse I've seen them use?? But yeah they'd post really gross shit untagged and unprompted, which made a lot of people uncomfortable

I'm not going to immediately jump to "they're a faker!!", but they claim to have self-diagnosed ASPD despite having stated that they fit basically none of the symptoms (I remember them saying something like "I'm an asshole because of my ASPD", so I think that's why they say they have it? because they think all pwASPD are assholes??). I know a couple people who have ASPD and safetypinz shows none of the symptoms they experience, even things as basic as feeling no empathy and having little to no emotion (from what safetypinz has said, they don't fit either of those basic criteria). I won't say they're faking, but... There's definitely something not right going on here (even if it's just as basic as them not understanding what the actual criteria for the disorder is)

They're pro-transnazi, and claim that because they have Jewish ancestry they have the authority on this (even though they're aren't a practicing Jew and don't know anything about the culture nor do they know any other Jewish people and that even a lot of the radqueer community disagrees with transnazis)

Not to mention the constant posting of cutesy emojis with captions like "mother-daughter consang <3333" - not only supporting incest, but also supporting child grooming too. Wow!

And also them claiming that torture and abuse... isn't traumatizing. Which they base off of pseudomemories/exomemories - which were only brought up to say "well actually I went through this and it wasn't traumatizing, so actually if someone says they aren't traumatized then you're a horrible person for disagreeing and wanting them to recover!", outright supporting people being denied help because they "aren't actually traumatized" or because they're in denial about their trauma

They're super pro-c, pro-incest, pro-"race/age/neurotype transitioning", and shit like that. The "kandiqueer" in the tags wasn't lying - they're absolutely awful. They're besties with someone who's "dating" a dog, although idk if safetypinz themselves is a pro-c zoo (considering they have "zeta", a well know pro-c zoo term, in their username... I wouldn't be surprised)

They're one of those "cripplepunk is for physically abled people too" people as well - so even more ableist. I'm pretty sure they even harassed and attacked someone because that person said cripplepunk was only for physically disabled people

There's definitely more that I either haven't seen, was done before I became radqueer, or was done after I left. If anyone has anything they'd like to add, feel free to share!

#there's definitely more but. i cant remember well. trauma lol #plus i left all the radqueer servers i was in a little bit before i made this account. so i dont have current updates #surprisingly this isnt the worst ive seen in the radqueer community. not even close #tw discourse #they already blocked us so theyll probably see this haha #from the inbox

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the-lil-exorcist · 1 month

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Time for a Re-ban

PARTIES:@the-lil-exorcist and @uncannysam TIME: Recent WHERE: Wendy's SUMMARY: Lil finally gets unbanned from Wendy's! Unfortunately for Lil and Sam, Steve never got rid of that poltergeist :/ WARNINGS: Unsanitary tw

Sam was craving a Frosty. Not vanilla or that new creamsicle thing that was out, but the OG…chocolate. And considering she hadn’t had dinner yet, she figured she would treat herself to some spicy nuggies and fries as well. But first, she had to lock up and take Scout upstairs. This, unfortunately, would not be a Scout thread, as dogs aren’t allowed in fast food establishments.

Once she had said goodbye to the best boy, Sam made her way back downstairs and out to her Bronco. Climbing in, she started up the truck and put on Simple Plan as she left the parking lot and headed towards Wendy’s, “Chocolate Frosty and chicken nuggies here I come!” She could already see it being the best part of her day.

Sam had lucked into a spot near the front door. Shutting off the engine, she climbed out and started making her way to the front door, but as she did, she could see some commotion just within the doorway, “I swear if someone ruins my chance at spicy nuggies, I’m gonna riot...” The comment was under her breath more or less, but after a rough day of one rude customer after another, she was being serious.

—

Lil was having a fantastic day. Her decade ban from Wendy’s was going to be done and she was grinning ear to ear at the idea that she could just walk in and get a frosty no problem. She even told Jonas excitedly, marking it down on a calendar that for the first time in her adult life she wasn’t banned from Wendy’s.

It didn’t occur to her that the Wendy’s location that she had picked had been the one that the owner was still weary of her. “Steve - Steve I’m not banned anymore - You can’t just throw me out.” Lil said, trying to reason with the franchise owner. “Oh god I have the letter and everything.”

The manager didn’t look amused and Lil was getting more and more angry. “Dude really? Look at the letter my ban is lifted. Just let me have the frosty.” Lil couldn’t hear the ghost sitting behind the counter laughing, knowing that Lil was about to get banned again as the lights flickered a little.

Squeezing her eyes together, as much as she didn’t want to end up in the middle of an argument, Sam reluctantly opened the door. If she wanted her nuggies meal and Frosty, she was gonna have to make it past this commotion. Just keep your head down. You can make it. Just a few hundred feet, and you’re in the clear.

Sam had her eyes on the prize. The counter where the cashier was looking on at the argument going on, in amusement, along with the rest of the kitchen staff. Apparently, Sam had chosen a slow time to come in. But that didn’t matter. She wanted her food dammit, and food is what she was going to get.

As took a deep breath and let out a heavy, low sigh, she cautiously moved forward keeping her head low. No sense in looking the beast right in the eye, when it would just draw attention to herself. No, the key was to be sly. As sly as…

Lil’s eyes went up to the flickering lights squinting at them and then back at Steve. “So you going to serve me?” His eyes flickered up as well and back at Lil staring at the letter in her hand she could see he was wavering.

“Fine, Kid but if you do something weird again - I’m never letting you back in no matter what corporate says god it? ,” He said in a gruff voice signaling her to get closer so she could order. After all, she wasn’t seventeen anymore and even back then she had been a good kid - just messed up the frosty machine somehow.

For a moment Lil looked stunned that it had worked - something finally looking up as she heelied up to the front with a smile on her face. Something genuine and actually excited and not her normal half smile. For a moment she looked her age again, the dark circles disappearing.

“Alright alright alright,” She said, her hand going to the counter as she started ordering the frosty. Once Lil turned slightly to see the woman behind her she continued, “Hey I’m having a great day - what do you want? Pass it on and everything.”

The ghost whispered trying to get Lil’s attention, wanting the exorcist to notice him - and Lil heard nothing causing a little electric spark to go through the lights above. She wasn’t going to ignore him again.

“Uh, yeah, sure, if you’re offering.” Sam had made it successfully, but had still been noticed. At least it hadn’t been in a ‘please help me convince this man to let me into the store’ kind of thing. That’s what had worried her, but instead of zigging, the situation zagged, and now, she was about to get dinner for free, “8 piece spicy nugget, medium fry, and large chocolate Frosty?” She hoped that wouldn’t be too much, and if it was, she was fine paying for her own food and would still find a way to pay it forward.

It wasn’t until she was standing at the counter, that she noticed the lights flickering above. And while it had caught her attention, she hadn’t thought anything about it. The building was old, right? Probably the first and only Wendy’s built in Wicked’s Rest.

Letting her eyes drift back down, Sam looked to Lil attempting to make small talk, “So great day for Wendy’s huh? You come here often?” Yes, she had heard the conversation, but her nerves had easily gotten the better of her, causing her to sound like an idiot, “Shit…sorry, I…yeah.” Sam looked down at the floor trying to stifle an unexpected laugh from her ignorance.

—

Lil nodded and added it to the order feeling delighted in herself that she was finally getting a win. She was pretty sure everyone needed a win lately as she paid for it. Leaning against the counter waiting for the frosty and the other’s food.

At the question Lil chuckled, “No actually I’m not here often but hey! That can change now. See when I was a teen I got banned and bans only last for like ten years so I’m back now.” She said with a little grin. “Sorry - my name’s Lil - Lil Ballard and you caught me on a good day. Not everyday I can come in and get my own frosty. So are you new in town or have you been here awhile?”

The ghost shook the frosty machine slightly wanting the exorcist's attention. It wasn’t fair that he was still here and that she hadn’t noticed him yet yelling out loud at the audacity. He wanted someone to talk to and this medium was going to recognize him or he would do something about it.

Sam raised her head and listened intently at the story of how the woman standing in front of her was banned. Even though she didn’t know her and hadn’t seen her around, Sam had felt bad for her. She couldn’t imagine living a decade without Frostys. That must have been so hard, “Whoa! An entire decade without the chocolatey goodness of a Frosty? I don’t know how you did it. And that’s not me being sarcastic, by the way. If I’m having a shit day, Frostys always seem to make it better. I’m glad you know this freedom again. And hey, thanks for dinner.” She smiled warmly. “Name’s Sam, Sam Walker. I moved here with my parents when I was about nine. What about you? I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

The shaking of the Frosty machine had caught Sam’s attention. Shifting her eyes from Lil, she couldn’t help but stare; her heart rate picking up slightly at the fear of this easily becoming a McDonald’s situation. “Speaking of, I really hope the machine isn’t about to die. I think we both came here with one thing on our mind, and I’m not ready to walk out of here empty handed.” She motioned towards the vibrating machine with her head.

—

“Oh my brother usually will come in and get me one, but it’s not the same you know?” Lil said knowing that Jonas never minded, but it didn’t feel the same. “They really do, don't they? They aren't too sweet and I really just like them a lot. - Oh really? Yeah I’m originally from here too, but I left for like ten years. Unrelated to the frosty thing to be clear.” Lil chuckled. “Nice to meet you Sam and no problem at all.”

Lil’s eyes focused on the frosty machine a light frown on her face. “It better not - I would like to have a frosty.” Something felt off, a weird sort of feeling in the pit of Lil as she felt the room getting colder. She hadn’t noticed it before - too excited about the frosty - but she could feel it now as the machine rattled more in it’s place.

“Oh not again,” Lil muttered under her breath as she leaned on the counter looking over to see a ghost grinning at her. “No - don’t you dare.- Not again you little brat.” Her hand going to her pocket to get salt to quickly dissipate the ghost for now she didn’t pay attention to how the machine sounded a weird keening noise as it started to vibrate at a higher frequency.

___

“Yeah, I get that. And unless you’re waiting outside or in the car, it’s usually melted somewhat by the time it makes it back to you. Not to say that melted Frostys aren’t good as well, but you know…not the same.” Sam laughed. “That was nice of your brother. I’m sure he’ll be happy to know you can get your own Frostys now though.”

Sam had noticed the frown start to come over Lil’s face. If both girls had a feeling, this couldn’t be good right, “Did it just get colder in here?” She looked around as if to spot the culprit of the coldness, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

Turning her attention back to Lil, Sam narrowed her eyes, “Lil…” Trying to understand what the woman was seeing, she looked towards the Frosty machine immediately noticing the noise. “Is everything okay…” It didn’t take long for the barely noticeable shake to turn into something more intricate and a little on the scary side. “I don’t think we should be this close…” And with that, Sam slowly started to back away, along with one of the employees who was just about to approach the machine.

—

“Exactly frosty’s are always good but having one in hand is just the best,” Lil said as the place got more and more hostile.

She had been so sure she’d gotten the poltergeist last time. She could have sworn she did, but perhaps she hadn’t? Maybe it was a new ghost and this Wendy’s just hosted a lot of ghost vibes. Maybe spirits loved frosty’s just as much as the living did.

In anycase, she could understand - but it didn’t change the fact she got a sinking feeling this was about to be her fault again. Lil’s hand reached for the salt, but before she could pour it out on the ghost, the machine started worryingly vibrating more and her eyes moved to it. Hearing Sam’s warning she moved backwards ducking at the counter just in time as the frosty machine exploded.

Chocolate Frosty went everywhere as Lil tried to shield herself pulling the nearest cashier down with her so they didn’t get hit badly.

Again. Lil had a frosty machine explode at her again. She really needed to teach Wendy’s to ghost proof their places as she said “Sam - you okay? Is everyone okay?” She asked as she felt the ghost’s presence behind her.

Lil couldn’t hear it but she could feel him snickering. “Oh Pal I’m going to ruin your afterlife -”

It was as if everything was happening in slow motion. The machine became increasingly worse as the lights flickered again above where they were standing. How this was possible, Sam wasn’t sure? Mechanical error? Faulty wiring? Creature that went bump in the night? She couldn’t put that past her with all she had come to see within the last few months, and here she was again. Finding herself caught up in a freakish situation with nowhere to go, but down.

Ducking as the loudness in the restaurant increased, she finally pulled her head down with her hands out of safety as she heard the machine combust, sending a massive amount of creamy cold chocolate and creamsicle all over the front of the restaurant and its current occupants. It was cold when it splashed down on her and gave her a chill to match that of the cold air circulating within the restaurant.

When all was said and done, Sam slowly raised up to see if Lil and the workers were okay, including a very angry manager who came storming up from the back. Expected, but not what caught Sam’s attention. Instead, it was Lil who had said something about the afterlife, “I’m fine, but…what do you mean afterlife, Lil?” She moved in closer, with the sense that this was probably a conversation that didn’t need to be heard by all the Wendy’s employees who were flocking up front to see what had happened.

—-

Lil should have just pretended she didn’t know what happened. Last time Steve had gotten mad because she had ranted about ghosts and how a poltergeist had caused the frosty machine to explode- but even now she couldn’t keep her mouth shut.

“It’s a ghost. There’s a poltergeist here - I know you probably can’t see it but that’s what’s happening. I’m about to get banned again so uh - probably don’t follow me. I’m sorry you aren’t getting a frosty today.”

Without any more thoroughfare Lil jumped the counter sliding through the chocolate frozen treat that she was hoping to you know - have again.

“Ghost. It’s a god damn ghost in the machine - Steve I was right, ” She huffed angry as she went to pour salt around the machine realizing that the ghost had jumped into the object. “Oh no you stay back for a moment - don't you dare try to kick me out yet. This is god damn personal.” Gritting her teeth she put her hand into the machine hitting the machine inside. “Come out you son of a bitch.”

Lil realized that Sam wouldn’t understand what she was doing, that she probably looked crazy but the ghost did appear over the machine smirking at her as she glared up. She would have looked intimidating if she wasn’t covered in chocolate. “It’s the same god damn ghost - Steve I swear to god.”

Sam paused, and in a quick jolt at the word ghost, her mind spiraled. The eclipse. Zach. Zach was a ghost that was really there. It wasn’t a dream or just in her head. That day had really and truly existed, and it was just something to add to an already confusing town that Sam was slowly adjusting to more and more each day, “A…ghost? Is there anything I can…”

Before she could finish that thought, she watched as Lil jumped over the counter. There was clearly a goal in mind, and she could tell the woman was pissed. With each passing word, she realized that this was the thing that had gotten Lil banned a decade ago, and Sam definitely didn’t want to be a part of that. She needed her Frostys, even if she was currently covered from head-to-toe in one.

Just as cautiously as she had come in, Sam had started to slowly back out. At least one of them had to be able to still get sugary, chocolaty treats for them both, right? And besides, this crap was cold and was starting to congeal to her hair, skin, and clothes, and it wasn’t very enjoyable either. “Uh, I’m just gonna…” Without much of a word, Sam skedaddled out the door, not wanting the wrath of Steve or the ghost to come down on her. She had enough stuff to process and figure out, like how she was going to drive home without messing up the seats of her Bronco. But she would find Lil again, because she absolutely wanted to know how this story ended.

#Unsanitary tw #Para: Sam #all that is shown to me; paras #this was the funniest thing I've written in awhile thank u Sunny #Lil's never gonna get a frosty #Steve is having a BAD work day too #poor guy

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beechersnope · 11 months

Note

For kink writing meme: boot licking. Any fandom

went crazy, went stupid with this. and surprise! i picked true detective. hopefully all of this is satisfactory as i have never written either this pairing or this kink & i wrote about half of this on the side of the road on my phone.

warnings for period-typical transphobia/misgendering, dubious consent, undernegotiated kink, and general unsanitary-ness.

***

The alley smells like piss. Marty doesn’t even know what they’re doing here, why they need to have some big discussion about what happened back in the club. It’s not important. It doesn’t matter. They should both just forget it. Marty was drunk anyways.

"I always thought you was a—" Marty stops, swallows hard, unsure of the current politically correct terminology. Not even really confident that Rust would find that acceptable, even if Marty did know.

"Spit it out, Marty." Rust’s gaze is blank, impassive, like it always is.

"Like, a lesbian, or something."

Marty doesn’t pretend to know anything Rust hadn’t told him firsthand, but the guys at the precinct talked. Even Rust knew they talked. It was something they both chose to ignore, and Marty tries to be accommodating, he does, even when Rust monologues about gender as a transcendent facet of the eternal universe or whatever the fuck— He even tries to be delicate about how he speaks about Rust with the others when Rust isn’t in the room, talking in circles so he doesn’t have to use anything but ‘Cohle’. It makes Marty sick somehow to hear the other guys referring to Rust as a woman, even if the reality of Rust is wholly at odds with the concept of the soft, pretty wives they go home to at the end of the night. But he’s obviously not a man, either, so.

"Or something,” Rust replies, oblivious to the acidic thoughts putting holes in Marty’s alcohol-soaked brain. “Are you a lesbian, Marty?" For some reason, the question doesn't feel like a joke.

"No." Marty can't help but feel as though his answer is being taken for some kind of binding contract, the terms to which he has not been made privy.

"Get on your knees."

Marty kneels. He's surprised how much it hurts, the gravel in the alley behind the strip club digging into his knees through the fabric of his slacks.

“You spilled your beer on my boots,” Rust says in an oddly calm tone. His expression still hasn’t changed, the strange taut planes of his face relaxed in way that has Marty feeling even more ill at ease. “I think you should clean them up.”

Marty stares down at Rust’s beer-splattered combat boots. He’d gotten dressed up before they met at the club, the nearly flat planes of his chest all-too visible under the ribbed tank-top and leather jacket. That had been what set Marty off in the first place. He hadn’t even noticed the boots. Now he can’t take his eyes off them.

When Marty lifts his hands to his collar to undo his tie, Rust tuts. “No, Marty,” he scolds. “Use your mouth.”

Marty hesitates this time. They’re outside between the dumpsters. It’s not exactly private. If someone walks out of the club and sees them like this—with Marty licking Rust’s boots—he doesn’t think they’re going to stop to ask questions.

Then he thinks, what the hell. They both have firearms.

Marty presses his palms into the gravel, savoring the bite of it against bare skin, and leans down to press his mouth against Rust’s boot.

Marty doesn’t just taste leather and stale beer as he licks over each boot in turn. His tongue feels hypersensitive, the feeling shooting straight to his dick as he drags it over the texture of the laces going up past Rust’s ankle, the cold metal rivets, the thick bands of tight stitching holding everything in place.

When Rust finally opens his mouth to utter another order, Marty feels dazed in a way that can’t be explained by the alcohol. He doesn’t know how long he was hunched over on his knees like a dog, licking beer and god-only-knows what else from Rust’s grimy combat boots.

"Now lean back,” Rust says, taking a step backwards, away from Marty. “Against the wall."

Again, Marty obeys. Without question. Marty isn't sure what to expect when Rust reaches down to unbuckle his own belt before unzipping his jeans as well, but he's pretty sure there's not going to be a cock in his face in the next five seconds. Marginally sure, anyway. Who fucking knows, with Rust.

When Rust places the thick rubber sole of his boot in the cradle of Marty's thighs without moving his hands from his belt, Marty lets out a pathetic little cry that is quickly drowned out by the gritty rock emanating from within the club. He can feel the bass through the wall, pulsing through him. It feels like it's inside him on an atomic level. That's some shit Rust would say, he immediately thinks to himself. Maybe Rust is rubbing off on him in more ways than one.

The pressure of Rust's spit-shiny boot increases steadily, pressing along the length of Marty's cock where it's straining against his slacks. The feeling produces a dull ache in his balls, even though Rust hasn't applied any force there. Yet.

"Do you think you could come like this?" Rust asks.

Marty shakes his head. He doesn't like pain. He doesn't like--whatever Rust is. Doesn't matter if he's hiding a cunt between his legs, he tells himself, like a reminder, a plea. Marty doesn't want this. Doesn't want him.

Rust presses the boot down a little harder, grinding the toe just beneath the head of Marty's cock. "Try," he says.

Marty watches open-mouthed and panting as Rust spreads his own legs a little wider, shoves a hand down the front of his jeans, and closes his eyes.

Rust comes first, the grunt that pours out of his throat surprisingly deep, a perfect foil for the reedy whimpers that stream from Marty’s lips as Rust continues to frot his boot against Marty’s cock. Then Marty comes, too, unexpectedly, warmth spilling out onto the inside of his briefs, soaking through them so quickly that for a brief moment he wonders if something’s wrong, if Rust broke his dick somehow. Then he doesn’t think much of anything, Rust’s hand tangled in what hair he has left, pulling his face in close to the apex of Rust’s thighs until Marty loses himself entirely in the acrid, salty-sweet smell of Rust’s cunt.

#my fic #idk how to tag this i'm 0% involved in this fandom #rust x marty #marty x rust #ask meme

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the-butch-of-blaviken · 11 months

Text

Aiden/Lambert/Keira, modern au, pure fluff, sharing food (890 words)

something silly and self-indulgent written for a discord server prompt

It’s a hot summer day and they’d thought going to the beach on their day off was a good idea – and it would have been, had not about a billion other people had the same idea.

Lambert has not been to the beach since he was eleven years old and Vesemir took him and his brothers to the beach on one of those rare, blessed week-ends where he didn’t work. Lambert remembers splashing around in the water and daring his brothers to see who could hold his breath the longest underwater. The ice cream cart had wobbled over to their spot and the three of them had turned to Vesemir with eyes like war orphans’. “Absolutely not,” Vesemir had said without looking up from his crosswords.

Turns out splashing around in the water all day was good enough for eleven-year-olds but he feels a little self-conscious about it now, and besides, kids and middle-aged dads in khaki bathing shorts standing perfectly still knee-deep in water with their hands on their hips are already taking up all the space.

Aiden does manage to lure him to deeper waters and for a moment they’re busy racing each other, shamelessly cheating by catching the other’s foot and tickling him or grabbing each other by the leg and dragging him underwater, but it rapidly gets old and after an hour and a half, they’re back on dry land. Keira complains that they’re kicking up sand and dripping all over her like dogs after a bath, but she still makes room for them under her parasol. After that, it gets rather dull and Lambert starts feeling like seasoned meat on a barbecue grill. As a matter of fact, all three of them are sweating profusely, even Keira, who somehow still manages to look like a Barbie straight out of the box.

When the ice cream cart wheels past their spot, they all share a look.

“Let’s share an ice cream,” Aiden suggests.

“They only come in cones.”

“Yeah, and? It’s romantic,” he replies, grinning.

Keira scoffs. “It’s disgusting and unsanitary is what it is.”

“We’ve done more unsanitary stuff than this.”

“What kind of argument is that?” She turns to Lambert, looking for support.

He just shrugs. “I don’t feel like getting ice cream just for me.” He still kind of wants the ice cream, though.

She stares at him over the brim of her thick-rimmed sunglasses for a moment before capitulating, sighing. She fishes a ten-florin bill out of her wallet and holds it out between her index and middle fingers for Aiden to take. He snatches it and gives her a peck on the cheek.

“Thanks, mom.”

She slaps his ass on his way up. Lambert hides his smile behind a hand when Aiden yelps. He probably would have done the same.

They each choose a perfume: strawberry for Keira, chocolate mint for Lambert and peanut butter for Aiden. The ice cream starts melting before they’ve even sat back down on their towel, running down the cone in a glorious pink, green and brown mess.

Keira gets the first taste. After that, they pass the cone around in turns: Aiden makes a point of taking comically long licks whenever he can. It takes Keira and Lambert a while to notice, but when they do, Aiden has to sit out two of his turns to compensate. He looks at them like a kicked puppy while they enjoy their ice cream with overzealous noises of enjoyment until the mother of a nearby family glares at them.

Ice cream is running down their fingers in creamy, sticky streaks and it tastes everything Lambert thought ice cream from the ice cream cart would taste: cheap, too sugary and delicious.

In the end, Aiden sinks his teeth into the ice cream, raising exclamations of protest and indignation.

“Oh, Aiden, no!”

“You’re really bad at sharing,” Lambert says and he and Keira laugh when Aiden winces like someone who’s got a bad case of brain freeze.

“You guys just needed to eat faster,” Aiden replies when he’s recovered. “It’s survival of the fittest out here.” He holds out the remains of the ice cream to Keira.

“Oh no, you can keep it now. And don’t look so proud of yourself. You’re doing the dishes tonight.”

Aiden smiles, baring his teeth. “Worth it.”

“Terrible man.” She doesn’t bother keeping the fondness from her voice.

Later, Lambert takes Keira’s hand in his as they walk back to the car and Aiden slings an arm around her shoulders.

“Don’t touch me, I’m all gross and sweaty,” she warns him and he presses himself against her side, squishing his cheek against hers. She groans. “Dishes duty today and tomorrow.”

He laughs. Nothing gets to him.

They hiss as they settle into their seats, fake leather burning every inch of exposed skin.

“Am I the only one thinking the beach is kind of overrated?” Lambert says, brushing sand from between his toes. Keira smiles at him in the rearview mirror.

“Too many kids, man,” Aiden complains as he adjusts his hair with his fingers in the little mirror inside the sun visor.

“Let’s stay home next time.”

Keira drives them away and Lambert rests his head against the car door, swearing he can still feel the waves as he drifts to sleep.

#aiden/lambert/keira #my fics #i wanted to write something simple and fluffy just for fun

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killemwithkawaii · 2 years

Note

HC that Sal would 100% be into pet play.

Between the constant slurs and his fear of dogs, it just ends up arousing him to no end.

He will also 100% kneel at your feet if you ask him to UWU

This got so much longer than I intended sdlkfald Enjoy UwU 👍💕

Puppy Play with Sal-

[CW: NS/FW (grapefruit), degradation, dumbification, unsanitary]

>See this is what happens when the trauma to kink pipeline is actually a drop slide into a very deep pool lolol

>I love this hc because on one hand, Sal is a self-conscious sweetheart who absolutely deserves the love and praise that a prized housepet would receive, despite him often believing otherwise. Participating in petplay scenes would offer him comfortable surroundings free of judgement, unconditional affection from a trusted source, reassurance that he's wanted and valued for just being himself, and an unwavering sense of safety he doesn't have to work to maintain. Plus, he'd get all of his favorite treats and toys to play with (as long as he acts like the good boy that he is!) 🤗💕

>On the other hand, Sal is intelligent and impressively quick-witted. He has so much on his mind, is always looking out for the next threat, and his go-to defense mechanisms are coming up with complicated schemes, thinking up convincing fibs, or turning the snark up to 11. Constantly having his gears turning like that takes a lot of effort- I say the guy needs a break! Petplay scenes would give Sal some time to turn his brain off, let someone else do the thinking for him, and allow him to just exist in the moment without worrying about what's to come. I can't think of a better way to do that than to turn him into a dumb, drooly puppy whos only responsibility is to follow simple commands and otherwise relax at his S/O/owners feet! (Plus, how fun would it be to see the typically smart-mouthed Sally so deep in subspace that he can't even string a sentence together? It would be adorable and we all know it UwU)

>He has to ease into petplay very gradually and needs a lot of positive reinforcement along the way. It was hard to convince him to try it in the first place, so don't expect him to crawl and bark on the first, or even the fifth go. Baby steps!!

>Slow to start acting the part, but tries his best every time and is a VERY good boy 🥺🏆

>Lapdog4lyfe- he loves laying his head in his owners lap and watching TV with them (though he tends to fall asleep pretty quickly if they start petting him). This would be an excellent starting point for getting him into pet play and/or lulling him into puppy space ✅

>Sal has a very difficult time eating out of a bowl. Hand-feeding is a better option, unless you don't mind half of his meal ending up on the floor and on his face. 🦴

>Likes bath time a lot more than he expected (just be extra careful not to get soap in his eyes or mouth!) 🧼

>His pigtails make PERFECT puppy ears and look SO CUTE swaying side-to-side when he's crawling around on all fours 😭👏💖💖💖

>Drool. Just… so much drool like goddamn someone grab a mop lol

>His gearboy is his favorite toy in or out of puppy mode, so he's not a fan of paw mitts. Only use them if needs a short reminder not to use his hands for 'people things'.

>However, he would not need much convincing to wear a puppy hood and collar, and he might end up adding them into rotation with his other everyday masks if it's comfortable enough. (He already had a gimp hood he wore ironically, so a puppy hood probably wouldn't raise any eyebrows.) 🤷‍♂️

>Sprinkles in a little mild bratting once he's gotten really comfortable with this kind of play (playing keep-away with toys, making a show of doing the opposite of commands, putting one paw on the couch when he's been told he's not allowed on the furniture, etc.). He's just having some fun, but that behavior can be quickly corrected with a good stern look if you're not in the mood to deal with a 'naughty' pup atm. 😠

Obligatory links:

Drawing of Pup!Sal during a rough scene [CW: VERY NS/FW (grapefruit), sadomasochism, injury, blood, unsanitary, degradation, bondage, nudity]

Sal with an S/O who consensually bullies him [CW: NS/FW (grapefruit), sadomasochism, unsanitary, degradation]

#k.e.w.k. writes #danu chan #sal fisher #sal fisher x y/n #sal fisher x reader #sorry steve #grapefruit #tw unsanitary #tw degradation #tw sadomasochism #tw dumbification #I like how i post almost nothing for a week and then i leave this kind of shit on your dashs out of nowhere dljsakdfj #'HI GUYS LONG TIME NO SEE HOPE UR READY TO GET NASTYYY UWU'

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muffintopped · 10 months

Text

CALL ME ISHMAEL

ftm bidyke muttboy butch

sub-leaning switch

he/him/zhe/hir

she/her if i'm domming

polyamorous & taken by a guy, and that's all the man i need

fat but not a gainer (but i dont mind if you like how fat i am)

funny little pervert

masochist

if you are horny enough about any insecurity you can conquer it.

INTO:

feedism, weight gain & fat - PRIMARILY: accidental wg, wg denial, cnc wg, & unhealthy wg (like heavy breathing, limited mobility, and ESPECIALLY laziness)

fat women. who are bigger than me and soft. or even hard

being a disgusting little animal for women

impact & breath play, boot play

transmasc cockshaming but only in comparison to other tcocks

submitting but only to women and/or butches (not up to be changed, if you're just a man and nothing else you're MY dog now. and my girl. start barking)

cnc

degradation, especially condescension

forcemascing dumbification (going to jupiter to get more stupider. you understand)

sex for men without penetrative phalluses OR vaginas (come through vaginal atrophyboys)

eroticizing transition, butch flight, bizarre gender roles MADE BY AND FOR QUEER PEOPLE (the fantastical nature of almost all trans erotica) and how i used to get misgendered as male in my youth. i am a cockroach (sexual style) in how you would not like to see me in a women's bathroom

mommy kink BIG TIME

cigarette/knife play

butch supremacy

fat women again. you don't have to be bigger than me i can be bigger i can do whatever you want

TURN-OFFS (no hate, just not my thing):

death feedism (specifically the death/heart disease/pain part)

body morph

extreme/unrealistic wg

slob

fatness as "ruining" someone's body or making them unattractive. we don't have to lie

detrans BUT i like forcetrans and i have a weird relationship with womanhood. i can be a woman if i want to be.

oviposition

preg & extreme preg

farting/lactose intolerance/etc

piss/scat/unsanitary

i will blog about fat activism on here too, i'm not tagging it, and that's non-negotiable. trans people encouraged & i would love mutuals just to talk to <3

i say the term "fat bitch" with the same reverence and respect that other people do when they talk about first responders on 9/11

#txt #updateddd because i have 22 whole followers now #BE AWARE. this blog DOES have feedism on it and i won't apologize for that

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thesugarhole · 7 months

Note

Barring obvious potential triggers, would you recommend Human Centipede? Like just as a movie to watch? (I have never seen it)

table of contents: do i recommend it? / triggers / my opinion / red flags analysis (for funsies)

warnings for: possible spoilers out of context, unsanitary/surgical discussions, long post

do i recommend it?

alright so, before i begin i wanna say im not the type to have definitive answers to recommend / dont recommend unless its something i Extremely Liked (darkest dungeon for example). so i would recommend it in a " idk tbh lol" way. so this is all my personal, unrevised by Movie / Horror Professionals, opinions, take with a grain of salt and whatnot. im also trying to write this as objectively as possible so at worst its out of context spoilers, in case you or anyone else decide to see it.

triggers

im not sure what 'potential obvious triggers' would be in this case. i mean that sincerely this time, since im always poking fun at dnis etc and i dont want to come across as sarcastic or anything! i think it suffers from the saw/texas chainsaw effect where the first movie is very tame but people over represent its contents to the point where it gains a, imo unjust, reputation as viscerally disgusting and unwatchable. tangentially, in both saw and human centipedes case, its a self fulfilling prophecy of sorts because the sequels DO end up fitting the mold of these warnings. i know that tcm 2 is more of a comedy/horror, and then theres like 6 alternate universes just to retell the story, that i dont think quite fit the "warnings actual fit the sequels" curse, but still i felt like mentioning it, and this is because these type of movies play a lot, a LOT on how fertile your imagination is. texas chainsaw massacre (1974), saw (2004) and human centipede (2009) show very little gore, but the implications of whats going on and how it would traumatize someone physically, mentally and emotionally when you think about them later is what carries the legacy, imo. maybe human centipede got a bigger punishment in fake negative hype because on top of the central body horror theme, it also adds scat and torture.

so in terms of triggers, gore wise it would be: some blood, some cutting (surgically and self harm), and an EEK! situation of a character running away and the catheter pulling on their arm, ripping vertically across. These are maybe a 2 second scene at its longest, as the camera doesnt linger on them. a shoot out near the end as well, filling a pool with blood. there is a photo of 3 dogs lined up in front of each other meant to imply they were a doggy centipede as well, but out of context its just. dogs calmly sniffing the front ones butt lol. no animal cruelty and/or death on screen that i can remember. there is harassment, there is kidnapping, there is drugging, there is murder, there is racism, there is explaining of a surgical procedure and there is treating the resulting centipede as a pet from a cruel and abusive owner (mainly beatings, i think most also off screen). most of the surgery affected areas are covered in bandages the entire movie, exception being the glasglow smile practical effects, of which are put to use once to display infection. add squeezing some pus to the list, i know some people are Very grossed out by it.

i think thats the bulk of what is portrayed that might put people on edge the most, and anything else might be escaping into more abstract fears -like clowns for example-; no clowns in the movie but its not something youre supposed to be afraid of is what i mean. as i said before, the big threat of the movie is that it gets your imagination going on both the horrors people are capable of (unsurprisingly, doctor heiter was in part inspired by josef mengele, even sharing the first name) and what it would be like to find oneself part of the centipede. for example, you dont actually see in detail one shitting into each others mouth and the other swallowing, just all actors squirming and crying in unease as the doctor realizes its happening and cheers it on. Extra note: 2/3 of the centipede is almost always crying. Its apt that they do obviously, but quite uncomfortable to listen to for extended periods of time. And you will, if you watch the movie.

(wikipedia backing me up on this, its the >Implying thats the real terrifier here)

i dont remember where i read this but i would like to bring to attention the tenacity and endurance of the three actors that played the centipede, as it was said that some other actors that got the role soon gave up upon finding out theyd have to have their face so close to someone elses ass, and vice versa. its all practical effects and THERE IS a small, obvious distance between the elements, like theyre not straight up tossing the salad in there, but still. rough position if youre not shooting a strange sex scene. finally, and i know all you never-seen-human-centipede enjoyers have been waiting for this one: no sexual violence of any kind. really! I was surprised as well, since these types of topics also love to pull on rape and whatnot, but the first movie is fully lacking in those types of themes. The sequels have them. Whether its unfortunate or not I wouldnt know, as I don’t intend on watching them, but more on that later (%).

my opinion

i was about 15 when i finally decided to watch it and i gotta say, i was disappointed because i had braced myself for the worst, didnt quite receive it, and was left with a lot of tension. like honest to god, the way people describe this as almost a snuff film when its just. a boring movie. it was a bit insulting to me back then lmao. i also didnt watch it with subtitles, as its marketed to an english audience; back then id argue about the guy not really needing to speak in english all the time since hes in his homeland but, while the doctor doesnt care for them as humans, he cared for them as pets, so it makes Some sense to have at least 2/3 of the centipede understand what hes saying. however with the amount of non english dialogue in it its safer to consider it a straight trilingual between german, japanese and english. if you do watch it TRY to find subtitles for ALL THREE. dieter laser (the actor that played the doctor) mumbles a good amount and it can be hard to perceive. anyway that was my opinion then and it stayed like that for a bit: 'boring movie everyone exaggerates'. it shifted positively when i decided to hear dead meats podcast on it, aka chelsea vehemently defending it with a :grimace: james accompanying her. when the red flags song first came out i thought it was extra hilarious because in some way this probably paralleled when she first told him "human centipede, not ironically" (iirc her favorite horror movie is american psycho but I don’t care enough about them to have this memorized) i havent rewatched what was said in the podcast before writing all this because i didnt want my own thoughts to be re-influenced just yet; still, it will be linked at the end regardless, since it changed my viewpoint on it when they dropped it. at this time, my opinion was "it wasnt that good, but it wasnt that bad either… was it?"

so i re watched it maybe a week after getting this ask (editors note: due to personal tragedies it has since been two more weeks) just for you! and i uhhh. ended up liking it a lot more this time around, now that i also know a little bit more about movie making. unfortunately, i made the damn fucking mistake of watching it with no subtitles again sdajhdfk. it feels strange that i understood the japanese better than the german this time around. german, on a technicality has more similar words to my native, BUT, being a fan of j music for as long as i have, and the japanese dialogue being very simple stuff like 'i have to shit' 'whats going on' 'fuck you' I occasionally grasped some dialogue teehee. i didnt understand enough to make a difference really, but still felt like pointing it out. also, despite not having seen it with subs both times, i remember back then looking it up later what was said so i +- know the context of each scene, the one I remember less being the conversation between the detectives and the doctor. still, its something i have to rectify eventually, even if i just find clips of the non english scenes and watch them.

i think i found it boring back then because its a slow movie, with just one story going on the entire time. they take some time to introduce you to the american tourists, but im not sure it makes a difference in establishing emotional connection since they suck ass (sorry) for most of the time theyre not a centipede. definitely not enough for someone to want to see them get punished like that either, but ehh. Its a 'i got no dogs in this race' situation, unless youre a stan of the doctor (which ive since learned a lot of people are (source: bort); its not my type of character is all.

im not sure how to best explain this but theres a lot of cinematic shots. if youre someone who likes movies as works of art, or understands and analyzes the meaning of the slow scenes, angles, whats being shown etc i think this movie is worth the watch, for sure. i think the sound design is also phenomenal; music is used to a bare minimum, and tense/action scenes dont get as much of a noise as you come to expect, exacerbating their vibes by like 200%. its straight up just silence sometimes, as you would expect if that was happening irl, its great. for the imagined horror i mean. its also great for the cinematography i think. Theres a scene that stood out to me of one of the members running, hiding from and then yelling at the doctor, that stood out to me by having most of it be ambient noise only.

That said, there are some critiques to be had, mainly on the creation aspect. The doctor had an accomplished career, so youd think the procedure would be more thought out than just “german doctor sews three people ass to mouth (cool!)”.

Ill try not to enter too much of spoiler territory here, but just in case if you watch it skip this LIST then come back idk:

its an intense cut and suture process of different materials between randomly selected people with no knowledge of their medical history, so its already a recipe for things to go wrong. The doctor seemed little worried about missing people being investigated, so he could have definitely looked a bit more into them before jumping right to the surgery, the movies pace would have certainly allowed it.

The surgery itself is implied to have been a day, and the recovery maybe two? Before he forces them on their knees and starts moving them about. I highly doubt the cut on their knees would permit this without at least a month of recovery. And a month is being generous. Youre not given a strict spongebob ‘a few moments later’ screen though, so while it could be argued ‘who knows how long actually passed!’ the nature of the surgery simply doesn’t allow it. Additionally, part of the process implies removing teeth, which immediately tells you this should be something phased. Like I dunno, im not a doctor but immediately connecting bleeding gums to a fecal exit doesn’t sound like a solid plan. Maybe he cauterized them? Youre not shown these things.

Ignoring the obvious -people cannot survive on just eating poop*- the removal of teeth makes sense on the sewing, since theres minimal chance to move the jaw on those conditions. It makes no sense anywhere else: if you cant chew it, you risk choking on it. other factors like coughing or vomiting have also not been accounted for.

there is never a single mention of urine in this process, which I found strange after the fact because if its left untouched, any female parts would just be painting the following sequence yellow, but theres also the fact that humans cant survive without water. It would be immensely punitive to figure out the surgery to include this, especially with urethra placements being different on male/female, but maybe worth it for the surgeon in-lore acclaims of fame if they could figure it out. Within the plot, the doctor would have certainly had the time anyway.

*i noticed next to their cage that they have an iv drop, which I think is meant to imply that the doctor wouldnt be THAT stupid and is giving the back parts the necessary nutrients to stay alive until inevitable eat-only-shit complications arise.

A lesser critique that if acknowledged would result in “but then we wouldnt have a movie would we?”, therefore not that relevant, is that katsuro should have double tapped. If you consider the neck bite a double tap, a triple tap then. Quadruple tap even like fuck man id be in there stabbing until I had human soup lmao

all that said, its a good movie. Not a bad movie by miles, but not a tour de force either. But I will say, if youre not watching it for the human centipede itself- how it came to be, how to create it, how it works, how it succeeds, how it survives, how it fails, how it ends- youre not getting anything out of the movie. Again, there is no b plot to it, no secret twist. It might be worth analyzing its movie quality (not just plot but also camera shots, characters, scenery, effects, etc) on top of that, but you have to be aware thats all there is.

(%) More on that now: I did not watch the sequels, but I don’t intend to and from the summary alone wouldnt recommend it. I already saw the human centipede once, there is little innovation that can be done here (sewing even more people to it is barely innovating in my eyes, its just stupider). Theres the added bonus/punishment of having all the sexual/gross out/possible graphical gore? schlock people warn about the first one, which would be something id be interested as a teen, not so much now. Even thinking about watching them feels like a drag, id rather do something else.

Red flags analysis:

now for something fun, since I know I got this ask because I kept talking about it lol

"the best movie of all, a masterpiece of art": we shouldnt be getting into the debate of the best movie of all right now. a masterpiece is debatable, as the movie itself is not that far removed from the art form that it shouldnt be at least considered.

“I think im gonna get murdered tonight”: youre not.

“the costume design was a highlight”: I mean, I guess? Its average clothes for the average person for the year it was shot in. the glasgow smile suture effects and the doctors lab coats (along with the fucking. aviators glasses) deserve a positive mention as they feel iconic of the movie… so yea you know what no ‘I guess’. I no longer guess. I agree.

“I like it for the plot (...) german doctor sews three people ass to mouth”: this is part of plot, not The plot. Its the catch of the movie that makes you curious about it, but I feel like the movie focuses more on the “ok, how? and then what?” to that summary than it does on the man sewing the people itself.

“please god save me”: coward.

“I think thats a red flag”: maybe.

“I don’t want to get stabbed”: you wont.

“human centipede is a tour de force”: already gave my thoughts on it, but respectfully disagree.

“im gonna be the main course”: 🤔...

“I admire the narrative of character growth”: see, this line here makes me think tom cardy/montaigne havent actually seen the movie (or if they have, dismissed it for the sake of having a good song which is absolutely fine by me, don’t get this analysis wrong). I will disclaimer that, for the doctor, it might be hidden in the german discussion with him and the detectives (but given the body language I doubt hes grown/learned anything from it) and in that case yea I missed it, but outside the centipede working together whenever possible to escape and the front going on a speech about “this happened to me because I was a bad person” theres absolutely no character growth. Its an experience they all go through and cannot recover from, much less grow from it.

Opposite of this, id like to think galoogamelady (the animator) has seen the movie, as getting reference shots of the indoor pool/wall tiles as well as dieter lasers face (to a lesser extent; write his name, he shows up) can be tricky with just google images and random ass youtube clips. I especially like that the eyebrows came out the exact same as how he had them in the movie, lol

“is this because your date is a freak” not necessarily the case (and the crowd goes ‘shes not gonna fuck you, tumblr user thesugarhole’ djkhgfhdsghskjd)

“only if the wedding is themed (…) human centipede” I wouldnt let my wedding be human centipede themed not gonna lie. Its gonna be saw themed. get in da bathroom lmao

“that way we can save on the catering bill” the implication here being all your guests get human centipeded, all your money is going to the surgery tools and prep.

“only one mouth to feed” of course, in cutting corners you could just shove some sort of weird tube between ass and mouth…

“I can finally sew a mouth to a butt” hate it when hes right about the red flag 🙄 sad! Oh well there will be other women with red hair that will defend human centipedes honor (cough) ⬇️

youtube

(^ as I said previously I didn’t rewatch this so my current opinion couldn’t get influenced by it, so I don’t remember what she said. Might rewatch after posting)

Pucker up!

#wrote half of this in notes half of it in libre word so my capitalizations are all wacky #haters will say they love a girlie getting autistic with it untl they actually see it (me and my text)#iamphibolous #the human centipede #cuties replying #sugar.txt #unsanitary #human centipede #askblog #red flags #watching the human centipede

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eldritchaccident · 1 year

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Timing: Late last night/early this morning Location: On a boat motherfucker the ocean Feat: @mortemoppetere & @eldritchaccident Warnings: Gore, Unsanitary, brief mention of animal cruelty Summary: Teds and Emilio head out to the ocean to battle their emotions whoever trapped Pascal

He was already irritated. There was no reason for it, really. Sure, it’d been a weird couple weeks what with the mob kidnapping and the revelation that the well-dressed realtor was a little wolfier than he’d originally let on, but nothing that ought to make Emilio quite this annoyed.

Well. Nothing except for what was coming. The fact that he was about to be stuck on a damn boat with Teddy fucking Jones, where the only hope of escape would be diving into the goddamn ocean, was probably more than enough justification for the irritability coursing through his veins.

That and the fact that the asshole was late. Emilio glanced down at his watch, mouth set in a thin line. His ribs were still faintly aching from the less than hospitable treatment the now-dead mobsters had given him, but he’d managed to make it on time without issue. And he knew Teddy had a babysitter for their otter — he’d seen them throw out the call, and he knew Wicked’s Rest well enough to know someone would respond.

He was just about to pull out his phone and send an irritated message when the wind blew the familiar scent of sulfur his way. Great. Either Teddy was here, or the hellhound was back to finish the job.

Emilio kind of found himself hoping for the latter.

—

Well, it’d been a doozy of a day. The demon had places to be, people to track, and annoying detectives to meet up with but life had other plans. Funny how that goes, right? Teddy wasn’t one who liked being late. If they were going to piss someone off it was going to be intentional, and while Teds was there. There wasn’t any game to inconvenience someone like this. But no doubt Emilio was going to assume it was on purpose no matter what they said. Ugh. At that point it might be better to let the detective believe whatever the hell he wanted.

Every time Teddy got to thinking about this case, about finding the trapper, about any of this shit it always ended with another obsessive spiral. One where they couldn’t get the image of that smug dumb face out of their mind. Or at least what they had imagined a smug look on Emilio’s pretty little face might look like. Certainly sounded like he was throwing himself a little party when Ted had gone and taken his advice. Why the hell had they gone and done it so publicly? Ughhhh. Fuck. His stupid voice played over and over in the demon’s head, every time they reread any of the dumb texts the detective had sent.

Oh woe is me, I forgot how to enjoy things. I only know how to be angry all the time. Rah rah rah. Touch my dog and I’ll stab you. Aaaarrhgh.

The version of the man that lived rent free in Ted’s head was… not exactly a pleasant representation. Maybe it had to be. Had to amplify the obvious because it still felt like something was missing. Like this version of the man was a hollow mask, that something deeper lay beneath it. And of course, there was that thing Leviathan said. ‘Maybe he said thank you in another way you didn't quite catch.’ The hell was that supposed to mean? Emilio kept insisting that he hadn’t needed a rescue. Despite the fact that he had been knocked out and was about to be dog chow. There was a decision to be made and Teddy made it. They couldn’t go back and fix it. Let the man just– no.

No, that was never an option either. A harsh pit writhed and sank in the demon’s stomach just to think about it. Which was… confusing to say the least. Maybe it was just because Emilio was a (fucking infuriating, but still a) person, and Teddy hated seeing anyone suffer. Unless they really deserved it. In that case, didn’t he? Well, no– Being a prick didn’t mean you should have to go and die about it. He was trying to help the bear after all and that was… good? Maybe? He’d been trying to help Joy too. Didn’t know her at all. Which made things so much more complicated, made it so much harder to parse through.

It was too much. Hopefully, the demon thought, this case would shine a light on more than just who was out here hunting otters illegally. With a sigh and a shake, Teddy tried their best to purge all those thoughts from their mind before finally striding up to the spot on the docks where Emilio had texted them to meet up. Of course the man was standing there, under the lamppost looking like someone just kicked him the shin. Of course he was waiting for them there, and was going to be pissed that Teddy was… five minutes late? Maybe six?

It had been a long day, and it was going to be a longer night. Why the hell had they come up with this plan in the first place?

—

If there was some sense of relief at seeing Teddy approach the dock in one piece, it was only because they hadn’t fully paid him for this job yet. A deposit hardly equaled the full amount of Axis’s fee, and Emilio had spent a fair amount of time on research already. The leg work of this case was already done — all he needed now was to get on board Teddy’s stupid boat long enough to actually track down their perpetrator. And, unfortunately, Teddy needed to be alive and uninjured for Emilio to accomplish that. If they wanted to go and die after they’d paid him, that was fine by him. He didn’t give a shit. The brief relief that rose up to temporarily replace that irritation was tied to his paycheck and nothing more.

In any case, the irritation quickly returned as Teddy got closer. Emilio wasn’t sure what they were wearing — was that the standard outfit for someone making a trip out on a boat? It was gaudy and bright and colorful, which certainly wasn’t ideal for any kind of stealth work, but Emilio didn’t think stealth was possible on a boat, anyway. There was no way their target wouldn’t see or hear them coming, but there wasn’t really anywhere they’d be able to run, either. There were, evidently, both pros and cons to working at sea. Emilio hoped he’d never have to do it again.

“You’re late,” Emilio said flatly, and there was the strangest urge to ask why, coupled with an odd desire to ask about the otter (had they found someone to watch it? Stuck it with Chuck after all, or gone in a different direction?), but Emilio pushed both to the side. Sometimes, with Teddy, it felt like he was participating in some unknowable performance, like every move he made was being analyzed in a way he didn’t understand. If he asked them where they’d been, they’d be smug about it. If he didn’t, they’d know he wanted to. Paranoia insisted that they could tell there was something under the surface here, that they were going to use it against him, somehow. He couldn’t figure out why he cared about it so much. Who gave a shit if they figured out he wanted to ask about their damn otter? Why did it matter if they knew he was curious as to where they’d been? It was stupid, and stupider still that he couldn’t shake it.

Pushing himself forward, he exhaled steadily through his nose and bit back a wince. His ribs were still tender from the beating those damn gangsters had delivered, mostly healed but not entirely all right. They might have fixed themselves sooner if he’d allowed himself much rest between then and now, but after that harrowing nightmare that had seen him staring at his wall for hours after, he’d been sleeping less and less. So far, the nightmares he’d had in the brief bouts of sleep since had been the standard fare, but it was hard to accept the risk that something like that might happen again. It wasn’t quite worth it.

Besides, this would be an easy case. Find the fisherman, find out why he’d done what he’d done, and let Teddy decide what they wanted to do about it. There was little chance it would snowball into something as complex as what had happened with Alan’s case. That, Emilio thought, seemed like a ‘one time deal’ sort of shitshow.

“Just lead the way to the damn boat. I’ve got a good idea who we’re looking for and where to start. I can catch you up when we’re on the water.” No need to stretch this out any more than he had to. The sooner he was finished with this case, the better.

—

“Barely.” The demon rolled their eyes, going with the typical attitude then? Teddy wasn’t sure why but they had expected at least a little more of a customer service face because they were paying him now, guess that didn’t change things. Money wasn’t what made Mr. Cortez tick. A fact Teds kind of knew already. This was more of a confirmation than the very start of a hypothesis. A heavy silence followed, dropping between them like an atom bomb. It might have been mere seconds, but to the demon it felt like forever.

Until the man moved, and they caught the wince, however small and held back it was. The writhing knot in their stomach seemed to sink further. Seemed to grow and furrow Teddy’s brow, completely against their will. Nerves, they justified, after all if Emilio was hurt, he might not be able to do this job right. A simple strain on their nerves, all it could be. Right? Lord knows how good the man was at getting on Ted’s nerves. There wasn’t an explanation in the world that would make Teddy actually believe they held any amount of concern for the well being of the detective. Unless it was on behalf of the job.

“Are you–” It started to leak out. The way Teddy would empathize with anyone else. Feeling somehow extra wrong to extend the same kindness to Emilio. Like they were supposed to be detached here. Aloof. Sarcastic and sardonic instead of gentle and kind. Supposed to play a part that the detective had already cast him in. Play it until the end of the line. Whatever that might mean. “Sure you’re up for this one big guy?” A more casual tone took on the rest of the question. Feigning the concern away from the man, and making it about the job. Because that made more sense.

Emilio was awful to be around. Well, he was fun to mess with, but otherwise awful. They kept telling themself it, rationalizing each newer stranger emotion as they surfaced. Maybe it was a bit of jealousy. Yeah? The great green snake rearing its ugly head. That something out there got to get some jabs in where Teddy hadn’t. If anyone was going to hurt Emilio, it should have been Ted. Payback or something, right? For the roof. For the alley. For the fact that the man was insufferable, except to make him suffer. Jealousy was understandable. The fact that it was something the demon so rarely felt made it all the more attractive as a scapegoat. They weren’t sure, because they didn’t have that much experience with it. Obviously.

“Right, well. Let's get going.” Stealth might normally not be much of an option on the high seas, but the cover of night, the slight fog, and the healthy number of enchantments on the Leviathan’s boat certainly helped. Even so, the drive out of the docks and into open water was uncharacteristically quiet. Eerily so even. Teddy knew it was at least partially the effect of the sound dampening rituals they had done earlier. Circling the vessel in runes and glyphs, that would keep anything off the boat from hearing them coming. They could talk and remain unheard. A few more spells and it’d be hard to notice them at all until they were within boarding distance. Not that Teddy had to share that information unless Emilio asked.

Teddy promised to be quiet. They were just keeping their word.

—

Emilio returned Teddy’s eye roll with one of his own, choosing not to comment on how ‘barely’ late the other was. Late was late, wasn’t it? It didn’t matter how late you were. Even being seconds too late was more than enough to turn something entirely on its head. Emilio knew that better than anyone. Of course, the stakes here were low. Teddy arriving a few minutes later than the agreed upon time really only hurt them, considering it was their case and their money. Let them be late if they wanted to be late. Emilio would add it to the ever-growing list of extra charges he planned on slapping them with when all this was over. If he was going to have to put up with them, he was going to make sure he was fairly compensated for it.

He felt them looking at him again, felt their eyes on him when he couldn’t quite hide the pain in the movement. And he knew they caught it. If there was one thing he’d picked up about Teddy, it was that they were observant. A little too observant for comfort, sometimes. It made it hard to hide anything, made him feel exposed and raw. Worse still, they never seemed to do anything with whatever information they gleaned from him. They must have been saving it for something, must have been gathering it with the intention of using it against him somehow, but he couldn’t figure out how. He couldn’t figure out why they hadn’t done it yet.

They spoke, and his jaw tightened just a little at the question. “If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be here.” It was untrue, and he hated the fact that Teddy knew that, hated that they’d seen him go after that damn baukbear when he could barely stand, hated that they already knew him as well as they did when he didn’t want them to know him at all. He hated the question, too, the idea that they hadn’t even made it out on the water yet and his capabilities were already being questioned. Like he was a damn kid again, the least impressive of his mother’s children and made to remember that fact every day. Maybe he wasn’t at a hundred percent, but he could do this. He could.

For some unfathomable reason, he felt the need to insist upon it further. And that was stupid, because it wasn’t as if Teddy’s opinion meant anything. They were a fucking asshole. If they wanted to question him, they could question him. If they wanted to change their mind and take their case to some other detective, it would just mean Emilio had to deal with them less. He’d lose out on the paycheck and have some wasted time under his belt, of course; that was the only reason the option seemed like a bad one. If it weren’t for that, he’d tell Teddy to fuck off. It was only the resources he’d sunk into this stupid case that made the thought of doing so now make his palms itch and his chest ache.

“Sooner the better,” Emilio agreed, climbing onto the boat. He could count on one hand the number of times he’d been on a boat in his life, and he’d hated it on each and every occasion. This was no different. The way the ocean’s waves made the ground beneath his feet feel unsteady, the way the shore was getting farther and farther away and the knowledge that he could no longer make it there unassisted was sitting heavy in his mind, the way Teddy seemed so utterly comfortable on the water, as if they were born for it… It all swirled together in Emilio’s chest, making his heart beat faster than it should have.

Somehow, the silence made it worse. He used to prefer the quiet, but being left alone with his thoughts seemed more a punishment than a reward these days. And still, he couldn’t bring himself to break it. It felt like a contest, like he was in some imaginary competition with Teddy that only he was aware of. They seemed content. Calm. And Emilio hated the fact that he was anything but.

—

Every so often the boat would rock just so, or there would be an interesting sound, a neat thing to look at. And every single time Teddy’s instinct to chime in and give a fun little anecdote had to be physically squashed down with a shake of the head or a bite of the tongue. This wasn’t a field trip. Emilio didn’t want to know about the shipwreck they just passed over, or how a nest of Osprey appeared on that one buoy every year in summer, even if it wasn’t as high as a usual home for the species. This wasn’t a tour. They weren’t searching for cryptids (paid or otherwise). The detective had made it abundantly clear that he’d expect silence while they completed this task together.

So why was the man so uncomfortable in it? Stewing and biting back grumbles over there on the deck. It should have made Teddy happy. Should have recharged the smile that had faded into an expression of intense focus. The whole damn reason the demon made sure they were doing this together was to mess with him. Okay, most of the reason. Pascal’s Revenge™ was still number one. Number one and climbing the ranks as the returns on the other game appeared to diminish.

A stillness came about the demon, one rarely viewed outside of their small family. In their drive to be competitively petty had they verged too close to cruel? The demon was many things, but it didn’t like to believe that it was unnecessarily sadistic. As the minutes turned to an hour, and Emilio still hadn’t cracked any jokes at their expense, hadn’t pointed something out just to make them feel stupid, hadn’t done anything but stare out over the rail while gripping it like a lifeline… Teddy didn’t know what to do.

Not that they ever really did around Emilio.

That was the problem, wasn’t it? Wherever the demon expected the detective to bend right, he flipped left, up, or down. Infuriating. Exhilarating. And maybe just a bit misjudged. Not that they’d ever (ever, ever, ever, ever, not in their infinite lifespan) admit it out loud. Maybe Oscar the Grouch over there wasn’t… the worst. Teddy certainly had met with (and dispatched) worse. Joy was worse. Obviously. But Joy fit in her box. Emilio was something interesting wrapped up in a shell of something wretched.

Speaking of wretched things, a metallic scent wafted along the winds. Teddy smelled the blood long before the radar ever picked up the other vessel. Too much blood. Not quite human either, mixed with the salt and seawater it was a little hard to pick out what, but that wasn’t the demon’s real area of expertise. Their boat came to a stall, and Ted began another small ritual, strengthening the runes that guarded the ship, guarding them from being noticed before they wanted to be.

The ship itself seemed to almost fade away as the demon circled it, running their hands along the railing, only nodding to the man to get him to move aside once they were right up next to him. When the circle was complete, when the ritual was done, from those on board it appeared as if they had turned the opacity way down, from the outside, it might as well have been a shadow.

“Don’t cross the barrier until you are sure it’s time. Not even a finger over it, okay? I have a feeling it’s about to get real bad. Probably worse than expected.” Their voice was low, but with a steady even keel that completely betrayed their usual flighty foolhardy style. No hint of sarcasm, no judgment. Nothing. This was the job. They were going to do it right. And then they could get back to figuring out if this puzzle was still worth unraveling. Maybe from a new angle. Who knew?

Silently Teddy returned to the helm, the boat whirred back to life even quieter than before. They moved in and within ten minutes, a small shape bobbed on the horizon.

—

If Teddy’s chatter was irritating, their silence was unnerving. On dry land, it might have been a welcome thing. Most of the time Emilio had spent (typically unwillingly) in Teddy’s company had consisted of him praying for them to quiet down. But out here? It only served to put him more on edge. His knuckles were white as they gripped the railing, jaw clenched tightly shut to prevent himself from losing this unspoken contest of silence that existed only in his head as he glared out into the sea. Somehow, time passed both slower and more quickly than it ought to; if this much time on the water had him feeling like this, Emilio couldn’t imagine why anyone would choose to live at sea long-term.

Eventually, the air shifted in a way that meant they were getting close to something and, this far out at sea, it could only be another boat. It might not be their guy — Emilio had gotten word that the fisherman who set the traps that Teddy had found their otter in spent a lot of time out here, but it could just as easily be someone else, too. There were plenty of people in Wicked’s Rest who spent time out at sea for various reasons, both nefarious and innocent. It might be difficult to tell which they were happening upon now.

Except… As they got closer, he felt it. That familiar feeling of the hair standing up on the back of his neck, that almost sick twisting in his stomach as they approached the other boat. He might have assumed it was something at the bottom of the sea, because it wasn’t unheard of. But as they drew nearer to the faint shape of a boat out in the fog, the feeling grew stronger and coupled itself with the faint scent of blood in a way that made it impossible to deny. Whatever was on that boat, it was undead.

And it was up to something.

Teddy was doing… something. Emilio wasn’t entirely sure what until they spoke to him, breaking that long stretch of silence with an instruction that revealed that their trek around the boat hadn’t been for a leisurely stroll. They’d done some kind of a ritual, and Emilio was torn between frustration that they hadn’t clued him in on that plan or what the ritual was and relief that they weren’t going to be seen a mile out. Given what he now knew about the boat they were approaching, he found himself begrudgingly leaning towards the latter. Of course, there was no way in hell he’d ever admit to that. Teddy would never let him live such a thing down.

As they drew nearer to the other ship, Emilio weighed his options. Teddy going into this thing near-blind would be bad for both of them, as their lack of preparedness would only make things harder on Emilio if it came to blows. But revealing what he knew about the other boat would mean admitting that he had a way to know it, too, and given everything he knew about Teddy, he knew that they’d be able to make certain inferences about Emilio with that extra sliver of information. Inferences that could be remarkably dangerous, depending on what they decided to do with them. Inferences that could lead to other discoveries, too. After all, anyone who’d spent significant time in Mexico would be able to make certain leaps about a slayer with Emilio’s surname.

In the end, though, something made the option of honesty win out. Emilio might claim it was because he didn’t want Teddy slowing him down with questions if it came to blows, or that he wouldn’t know how to drive the boat back on his own if Teddy got themself killed by a vampire out at sea. The truth was something more complicated, something that tangled itself in his gut in a way he didn’t understand. He didn’t want Teddy going into this without all the information. He didn’t want them to get hurt because he’d held back. He didn’t want that kind of weight on his shoulders again.

“Jones,” he said gruffly, the first word he’d spoken since their departure from shore. He didn’t look at Teddy, kept his eyes locked on the boat ahead of them as if that might make what he was about to do any less dangerous than it had the potential to be. “They’re undead. Whoever’s on that ship. So… We’re probably not going to be able to do this with knives or bullets.” For certain species it might be possible — different kinds of undead had different rules, after all — but the best bet was to assume it was something more durable. Better to do a little overkill than to get killed. “I want to take the lead.”

—

“Cortez–” They replied. A bit too hastily, with a bit too much vitriol. Especially considering the detective hadn’t followed it up with an insult to Teddy’s driving or some question about why they had stopped so far out like they’d expected. “I know.” That part was calmer. Flatter. Almost, almost a thank you. After all, Emilio’s statement? It was a warning. Something meant to protect the listener. A confirmation of something the demon had begun to suspect. While they couldn’t sense undead in the way that Emilio apparently could, few things in this world liked blood quite as much as a vampire. Fewer things that were smart enough to pilot a rig out to the middle of the bay just to make a literal bloodbath that could be scented from miles away. Whatever it was, it was gorging itself on something. Making a feast out of it. The closer their ship got to the scene, the worse the stench was.

No knives or bullets. Okay. Teddy nodded, and nudged a decently sized chest with their foot. “Pick your poison then.” While the demon hadn’t been expecting the midnight trapper to be anything more than a dumb human, they were prepared for anything. Like Satan’s number one boy scout. Ready for any kind of murder that would bring someone some manner of justice. This was bigger than just an otter now. They could see that.

The box was filled to the brim with just about any implement of death you could imagine. From a foldable scythe to several wooden stakes. The only thing it lacked was any real holy or blessed items. For a pretty obvious reason. There were some decoys, mostly empty bottles of regular-ass seawater that were dressed up to look like something to fight off the undead or damned with. Teddy couldn’t let themself ignore a possible giveaway if it meant protecting themself and their father.

Though if Emilio was as good a detective as they had regrettably come to realize he was (the boat they were after was more or less exactly where the man had predicted, even without the rich scent of spilled blood they’d have found it all the same), he’d probably see right through that little ruse. Teddy wasn’t really ready to come to terms with what that might actually mean so they locked it away. Unconsciously filtering out what wasn’t necessary for the here and now. Anything that wouldn’t help dust whatever evil motherfucker was over on that other boat.

“Lead on.” No argument. No more fire. At least not toward Emilio. Everything that burned within them was now directed at their target. The cause of the red tinted wake that rippled gently behind their vessel. Quietly, their boat caught up. Teddy pulled alongside right where Emilio had directed. Came to a rest, and the creature on board didn’t seem any wiser about it. Good. Seconds later, Teddy was right behind the hunter. Their own stakes in hand. Ready to go, ready to follow the leader.

—

They knew already. Normally, that might have filled Emilio with frustration, annoyance that he’d given Teddy information that he hadn’t needed to give them, that he’d offered some vague part of an answer for nothing. But the annoyance didn’t come this time. Maybe it was because Teddy didn’t immediately jump on the words, or because their tone wasn’t harsh or taunting when they responded. It was easier not to let the irritation bubble over when they were being halfway decent, even if those moments were rare. What made less sense was the odd sense of faint relief that filled his chest in place of that irritation. Teddy already knew, and that was a good thing. That meant less possibility of complication, less chance that this would end poorly. They could take care of this bump in the road, and then they could go back to trading verbal bars on dry land. After Teddy paid him, of course. The getting paid was important, too.

Glancing down at the chest, Emilio furrowed his brow. He eyed Teddy suspiciously for a moment before relenting, leaning down to shift through the contents. Knives, swords, blades, a damn scythe. Emilio couldn’t help but take note of all of it. That knife looked silver. That sword was iron. There were stakes made of different types of wood. Salt bags. He picked up a vial, inspecting the contents. He’d expected holy water, of course, but… No, this wasn’t right. No rosaries, either.

Emilio pushed his tongue up against the sharpness of his canines to keep himself from making the observation aloud, choosing instead to place the vial back in the chest and pick up a few things that might actually come in handy against something undead instead. Stakes, even though his pockets were heavy with his own — Teddy had probably gathered what he was, at this point, but there was no reason to confirm it for them. A knife, even though it would likely be useless. The handle was made out of something heavy and white, and maybe he just liked the weight of it in his hand. Almost as an afterthought, he took that scythe, too. It was bigger than what he might usually carry, clunkier, but it was hard to resist the urge to take it. He justified it silently to himself with the reminder that whatever was on that boat might be something they needed to behead, and that was always such a damn ordeal with a small blade. The scythe would make it simpler.

Of course, the growing stench of blood in the air was making it look more and more likely that their trapper was something that could be easily dispatched with one of the stakes Emilio had grabbed, but he gripped the scythe all the same. Maybe he could enjoy something just to enjoy it, for a moment. Maybe not everything had to be functional.

He’d expected Teddy to argue, to insist that they lead even though he was the one with the experience, the one with the know-how, the one who was being paid. Instead, they offered no resistance in a way that felt strange. Emilio was almost suspicious, narrowing his eyes briefly, but… If there was one thing he was sure of, it was that they cared about this job. The otter, the trapper, the chance to keep it from happening again, it mattered to them. Maybe it mattered enough that they wouldn’t compromise it for a petty vendetta. Clicking his tongue, Emilio nodded. Time to do the real work.

Whatever ritual Teddy had done to disguise their boat seemed to have worked well enough. The captain of the other ship didn’t seem to realize they were coming, didn’t meet them in the water. Emilio couldn’t hear them over the sounds of the ocean, but he was willing to bet they were still slurping away on whatever it was they’d caught out here. Emilio wasted no time in moving from their boat to the other, landing silently in spite of the vibrations of pain the small jump sent up his bad leg and still injured ribs. If there was one thing he knew how to do, it was work around pain. It was one of the first lessons his mother taught him, one of the most important things for a hunter to know. You had to keep fighting, even when you knew you weren’t going to win. Maybe even especially then.

Silently, he made his way through the ship. He could feel Teddy behind him, just as uncharacteristically quiet as they’d been for the entire trip. They were good at being sneaky when they wanted to be, evidently. Later, that knowledge would probably unsettle him. Right now, with this temporary alliance, it was probably a good thing. Emilio followed that feeling in his gut until the sounds of movement were louder than the sounds of the sea, a sickening slurp and a quiet drip making it clear that they were close. He held up a hand to stop Teddy behind him and ducked against a wall, peering through the darkened doorway.

It was an older vampire. He could tell just by looking at them. Not quite an elder, but they had a certain way about them. An arrogance to their posture that he’d only seen in immortals well into their hundreds, ones who’d been around long enough to feel invincible but know that they weren’t. Emilio looked them over carefully for a moment before letting his eyes slip down to what they held. A seal — no. No, not quite. A selkie, he realized. A young one. Already too far gone to save, if it wasn’t dead yet. Something twinged in his chest, but he pushed it aside. No use worrying over what they’d been too late to do. Better to focus on what they could still accomplish instead. If heroism was out of the question, at least there was vengeance. Vengeance had always suited Emilio just fine.

He looked to Teddy, squinting at them in the darkness despite the fact that he could see perfectly fine. Stay here, he mouthed, hoping the teal eyes he’d caught sight of in their houseboat when their glasses had slipped down their nose were capable of seeing in the dark well enough to make out what he was saying. He couldn’t communicate the whole plan to them in silence; he just had to hope they’d catch on, somehow. Emilio would distract so Teddy could move in undetected. The vampire had just gorged itself. It was going to offer up a challenge, and attacking it head on was going to get one or both of them killed.

Better to control the situation. With another brief glance to Teddy and a sharp look, Emilio ducked out from behind the wall and stepped into the room where the vampire was feasting. “I gotta know,” he said gruffly, “did you know the traps were getting more than just selkies? You leave the rest there on purpose?” He didn’t think it mattered, one way or another. But Teddy might. And Teddy was the one writing the paycheck here.

—

It was pretty surprising how well they worked together when either of them shut up long enough for the pair to get something done. Less surprising that Emilio was that good at both of his jobs. One of the very few things that Teddy was absolutely sure of, was the fact that Mr. Emilio Cortez was dedicated to his work. Something that was great right now, but after… well that’d take a lot more parsing. As these things so often did every time they had one of these little interactions.

The revelation of ‘slayer’ came with a heavier tone than most of the others though.

Demons didn’t have their own hunters. Not exactly. Closest you could really get was an exorcist with a specialty in demonology. Even then, they were more of the cerebral type than the stabby stabby sort. Slayers came close though. They had all the tools, usually had quite a bit of the knowhow, and definitely carried the skills and blessed items that burned through demonic skin like acid covered blades through soft butter. It put Teddy on edge. More than the blood splattered boat, more than the actual monster they were about to kill. More than anything so far. Stare down a hellhound and call it Carolina? Fine. Know the man who hates you has more than enough reason and ability to take you down? Less so.

But he hadn’t. Not yet. Had plenty of opportunities. Slayers healed faster than demons, and while that night after the alleyway was not particularly great for either of them, Emilio had managed to get up and get gone long before Teddy had ever stirred from the dingy. Hell, from the first time they met the detective had known where Teddy lived. If he’d figured it out, figured out what Teddy was, why hadn’t he killed them already? Why hadn’t he killed the creatures in the alleyway? Why did he let all of the others go from their cages? None of the ones Teddy had found and corralled to safety had been injured in any way.

Hunters didn’t do that. Hunters didn’t show that kind of mercy. Hunters didn’t ask questions before going in for the kill. The demon’s mind flicked back to Venice. To the hunters dressed like nuns, to the table and the scar they left. That had been their first real run-in with any honest to goodness hunters. It certainly wasn’t their last. And yet, here was Mr. Cortez. Actually following through with the terms Teddy had set for the job. Because they had asked him to. The demon was ready to call the literal trail of blood evidence enough, but he went and asked anyway. Gave up a potential perfect ambush. Was it just to gloat? Maybe, or maybe not.

Something clicked then. A realization of how wrong first, second, and third impressions had been. Not that it really mattered. Teddy hadn’t exactly put their best face forward for the detective and surely the man’s opinion on them only tanked from there. It was the kind of thing that made them swallow hard, bite on the inside of their cheek, and sink into themself a little. Not so much that they couldn’t read ahead, figure out the slayer’s plan and act accordingly.

The vampire began to monologue, because of course it did, something questioning how the slayer found them and how it didn’t really matter because he wasn’t going to be leaving this boat and blah blah self important blah. Crucially, it admitted it had seen the animal in the trap. And that it didn’t care. That was enough to bring a big old grin back to the demon’s face. A spark enough to drive them on with a sudden manic glee. This was the good part, after all.

As Emilio kept all eyes on him, Teddy slipped through a window unnoticed. Crept up behind the beast. Two arms shot out of the darkness. Worming in between and around the vampire’s torso. Quickly wrenching and snapping the creature’s limbs, leaving them dangling on either side of its chest. Sure, it could regenerate them fast, but Ted knew the hunter would be faster. They swept a leg to the side. In an almost dance-like maneuver they spun the surprised blood-vulture around and down until its back hit the table that had been laid out before it. Hitting it hard enough that the old wood split and drew a wheezy whine from the vampire’s throat. Stifled a split second later by Teddy’s forearm clamping down and holding the creature there.

A big old open window for the slayer to do the fun part.

—

The monologue was entirely expected, but irritating all the same. Emilio had always hated the self-important type of vampires, the ones who talked just to enjoy the sound of their own voice and held their audience captive as a result. He preferred action to words, anyway. If a vampire was planning on killing him, he’d always prefer they just do it. Talking about it for ten minutes first sucked all the fun out of the equation.

If he was being honest, Emilio zoned out a little during the speech. It was all shit he’d heard before, anyway. Death threats might have been unsettling when he was a kid, but these days? They were so familiar that there was a strange sense of comfort to it. He could let it fall to the back like background noise, focus instead on what Teddy was doing. With the vampire’s full attention on the detective, his unofficial, one-time-only ‘partner’ was free to move around so long as they didn’t make any noise. And they were good at it. The not making noise. It was surprising, even if the boat trip had acted as a sort of prologue to the revelation.

More surprising, perhaps, was the fact that Teddy had seemingly picked up on Emilio’s plan. He couldn’t make out their pathing without giving away the fact that he wasn’t alone, but they seemed to be doing exactly what he’d intended for them to do, even if no words had been exchanged. Making their way behind the vampire to attack without being seen, letting Emilio distract while they leapt into action.

Now that the confession Teddy had wanted was out in the open, there was no reason to draw things out; Teddy might want to take things slow, but Emilio figured it’d be better to do this one quickly. With a vampire this experienced, buzzing with the blood from the selkie it had just drained dry, it was best not to give it a chance to fight back. They were lucky it had decided to monologue instead of attacking outright; they weren’t going to get lucky twice.

So the moment Teddy snapped those bones, Emilio darted in. As much as he wanted to use that scythe, a stake was more practical here. He slid it between the monster’s ribs, took a moment to relish in the wide-eyed stare, the look of shock. Little made it through the fog in his head these days, the TV static that fuzzed up most of his thoughts and made the world feel farther away than it ought to, but moments like this always came close. When he drove that stake home, when he saw the look of surprise etched into the face of something that died for thinking that Emilio would be easy to kill… It was enough to spark something. Not joy, not relief, not peace, but something. And something had to be enough.

Of course, the emptiness returned as the vampire crumbled into dust, settling back into his chest as if it had never left at all. Emilio flipped the stake absently in his hand, watching the beast crumble to reveal the shape of Teddy standing behind it. He offered them a curt nod. “Got your answer,” he told them. “And you can keep his boat.” Emilio certainly had no use for it. This whole experience had only served to show him just how little he enjoyed the open sea.

—

For a moment, anyone looking on the scene might assume the pair had been trained together. Working in such succinct synchronicity that the gorged vampire was barely a threat, let alone something that could be considered a fight. Adrenaline pumped through Teddy’s veins, the brilliant thrum of action lifting their spirits high. The creature that had made Pascal an orphan was gone. Good riddance. The deed was done and for a second, the demon smiled at the detective. Flicked their eyebrows up and glanced between him and the pile of dust, as if to make a joke. As if to say ‘is that all?’

Thankfully, they hadn’t said it aloud. Or the next bit would have been really embarrassing. Would have had Emilio grouching and saying it was somehow Teddy’s fault. The second vampire had remained about as unnoticed as the hunting party had. Maybe more so. Teddy wasn’t even sure where it came from, just that the only warning it was there at all was the quick glance on Emilio’s part. His eyes darted behind Teddy, just before the demon heard the first foot fall.

Teddy twisted and bent at the waist to avoid the first slash. Almost putting themself exactly where the captain of the creepy boat had just been. Secret vamp was going old school. Claws and fangs. That or it was caught just as unawares as Admiral Dusty and the natural weapons were the only at hand.

Momentum carried the thing forward and Teddy used it to their advantage. The demon rolled, dodging another blow. One that made woodchips of the table, sent them tumbling to the floor, and knocked the stake clear out of Emilio’s hands. It shrieked and turned to lunge at the slayer, but Teddy was there to catch it.

The vampire seemed to reel as its feet stayed firmly in place, two strong hands holding tight to its ankles as Teddy played the part of anchor. Hopefully long enough that the slayer could do something about the unwelcome party guest.

—

The buzz of adrenaline that came with killing the vampire faded, but something else remained in its place. A familiar feeling, one that Emilio should have pegged before, one he should have made note of. The moment the realization hit him, he felt like a fucking idiot. He should have known, should have been paying more attention, should have recognized it sooner.

The vampire was dust on the floor of the boat, but the old twist in his gut that meant something undead was near hadn’t gone anywhere.

A second after the thought hit, he spotted them. Right behind Teddy, sneaking in for a kill. The slight widening of Emilio’s eyes was the only warning Teddy got but, evidently, it was the only one they needed. They moved fast, dodging the attack quickly. The thing was fast, of course; they always were. It moved in for another, and Emilio darted forward just quick enough to have the stake knocked from his hand. The brief contact seemed to clue the vampire in to his presence, and it turned its attention to him, lunging towards him only to be stopped short.

Teddy wouldn’t be able to hold it for long. There were stakes in Emilio’s jacket pocket, but it would take a moment to retrieve one, a moment more to drive it home. There was a much more accessible weapon slung across his back… and he’d been itching for the chance to use it since the second he saw it in Teddy’s treasure chest of death.

Yanking the scythe off his back, he slung it forward, the blade making contact with the vampire’s throat with a satisfying thunk. Between Emilio’s enhanced strength and the sharpness of the blade, one swing was all it took. The head rolled to the floor, the whole world suspended for a heartbeat before the second vampire followed the first’s example and exploded into a cloud of dust.

This time, Emilio took a moment to feel out the space. There was nothing undead buzzing his senses. Just the now-familiar scent of sulfur that always seemed to cling to Teddy and the fading adrenaline from the unexpected second fight. Tossing the scythe between his hands, he couldn’t keep the faint smile from slipping onto his face. Just as satisfying as he thought it’d be.

“All right,” he said, looking back to Teddy, “now we’re done.” He held the scythe handle-out towards Teddy for them to take. “Let’s get back to land. Fucking sick of the ocean.”

—

A bark of mirth escaped the demon’s mouth. At first just a short breathy thing, that built up and doubled back on itself until Teddy was laughing. Having a hard time lifting themself up from their spot on the ground with the way it shook them. Rumbling out their chest like it was something with its own life. They had pushed it back so much that their joy rebelled. Dark eyes looked up over an expression of pure elation. “You can smile, I fucking knew it.” And it was a good one too. Real. Made these little dimples come out of nowhere and almost made Emilio Cortez look like something with a soul.

Teddy took hold of the scythe, used it like a walking stick to right themselves. Then like a cane to keep their balance. That tumble had popped one of their joints, and they were so dizzy on adrenaline and endorphins that they weren’t even sure which one had gone. Only that a steady stream of signals were coming out of that region. “Yeah, yeah. Back to land. You feel like setting this boat on fire first though?”

Something had shifted within them. Despite the fact that he was never anything but, that smile was all it took for Teddy to see him as human. Someone they’d mess with in a fun way rather than any kind of malice or actual ill will. Emilio could hate them all they want, didn’t mean Teddy had to return the sentiment. At least not all the time.

—

As quickly as it had appeared, that smile faded from Emilio’s face, erased by Teddy’s laughter and replaced with a roll of his eyes. But there wasn’t as much heat to the irritation as there had been before, wasn’t as much seriousness. The smile had been more genuine than the annoyance that replaced it. And that would change when they got back to shore, of course. When Teddy reminded him of just how annoying they really were, when the weight of the world rested itself upon Emilio’s shoulders again, when he wasn’t riding the high of decapitating a vampire with a scythe. In the real world, Emilio would hate himself for letting Teddy see something he wasn’t sure he wanted to share.

But he wasn’t in the real world just yet.

He took a step back as Teddy got to their feet, not reaching out to help them but keeping an eye on them in a way that implied he might step in if they fell. Luckily, it didn’t seem he’d have to decide whether or not that might would evolve into anything more. That was better for the both of them, he was sure. With his bad knee, Emilio could barely keep himself on his feet. He couldn’t be made responsible for doing the same for anyone else anymore.

Their question almost brought that smile back to his face, but he smothered it at the last moment. “Yeah,” he said with a nod, “I really fucking do.” Burning the boat would do nothing for the selkie drained of blood in the floor, or for the mother of the otter that was safe back wherever Teddy had left it. It was just as empty a gesture as every vampire Emilio dusted with his daughter’s name beating in his heart.

But Christ, it’d feel good, anyway.

“I’ve got a lighter. They’ve probably got gas on board someplace. Let’s get to fucking work.”

#wickedswriting #trapped together #mortemoppetere #eldritchaccident

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kate-bishops-waifu · 2 years

Note

Could you please do a Tristan x reader?

Perhaps where the reader ran away from home and Darrowby took them in as a stray. They might act as a secretary for the practice and work under Mrs. Hall. And someone has just pointed out Tristan that he's in love with them and is now awkward and flustered.

Or something entirely different

a.n. So sorry this took so long! I've been busy and quite frankly unmotivated. But I hope you like it. Have a lovely day, and thanks for the request nonny.

Tristan x gn!Reader

'Unethical'

No I have not seen the '78 All Creatures.

Warnings: Like one swear? Tristan being an anxious boy. Siegfried.

Fluff. Friends to lovers. The slightest hint of angst.

word count: 2241

He/They pronouns for Tristan

Six months in Skeldale house had taught you how a somewhat more sane world operated. You had space to move about without bumping into machinery, you weren’t suffocating in what amounted to a tenement and you had a bed all to yourself.

Tristan had compared your room to a broom closet, but you didn’t mind. No rats crawled over you, no bed bugs bit at you.

It was a palace to you.

The tall ceilings, the stone walkway, the numerous alcoves you could just fit a small table

with a plant or picture in. You’d never been more comfortable in your whole life. But

you couldn’t entirely relax, could you?

No.

The room sometimes suffocated you, the jobs were sometimes too clean and safe. It felt foreign. All you had to worry about was how dinner would be ready in time and if the

Bookkeeping was safe. And it was quiet. Not too quiet, especially on days the surgery was open, chickens, dogs, and all sorts came in on those days and you felt you could breathe a little easier. But every other day was quiet. Jess, the kindest most obedient pup you had met was so quiet that she merely tilted her head at the door when someone came in. She didn’t protest when you put her in the back, she just quietly went along like it was routine. And it was.

You were in the grand kitchen with the fine wood table and window into that magnificently unkempt garden. Tristan was sitting on the counter, something they only ever did in your company. Siegfried or Mrs. Hall would let them have a piece of their mind. Say something about it being unsanitary, while Jame’s just sort of chuckled and went on with his day.

You didn’t mind though. In fact you like Tristan’s company most. He had this relaxing attitude about life, and infectious joy you admired. You felt like a real person around him, unlike the rest of the village who seemed to find you a peculiarity. Something interesting to whisper about.

You’d been long in thought. Tristan was going on about cricket, some fantastic feat was played the last time it was broadcast that he was still buzzing about. You wanted to pay attention, but you had been overtaken by that feeling again. Like you were living a dream about to wake up to a loud stuffy room with your parents arguing in the next as the never ending sound of machinery rumbled the weak walls.

‘Y/N? Y/N are you alright? I think I lost you.’ Tristan was practically waving his hand in front of your face, leaning over to try and get your attention.

‘What? Oh. Sorry, guess I zoned out. What were you saying?’

Tristan tilted his head at you and squinted like he was trying to read your thoughts. Which he was, but he wasn’t very successful.

‘Alright, spill it. I’m not about to judge you, you know. Six months here; you’re practically part of the furniture.’

You shake your head, placing a plate on the drying rack and wiping your hands. ‘It’s going to sound strange. So don’t judge me.’

Tristan straightened up, to show you he was taking it seriously, grabbing to top of the side of the counter, he nodded.

You rubbed your forehead with the heel of your palm, and chuckled at yourself. ‘It’s. . . Well it’s too quiet. Here. In the house. I constantly feel like something has gone wrong. You know the other week, that dog who wouldn’t stop howling?’

Tristan shuddered at the memory.

‘That was, for whatever reason, the most relaxed I’ve been here. Like I’m looking forward to a busy surgery so things can be a bit more hectic.’

Tristan shook his head seriously. ‘You want me to start banging pots and pans every half hour?’

You breathed out a chuckle and tossed the towel at him. ‘I’m serious! It puts me on edge.’

Tristan dropped down from the counter, still chuckling at himself. ‘You want the radio?’ he asked, joyfully kissing the side of your head as he hopped over to the wood box on the other side of the dining table.

‘That’s not what I meant, and you know it. But yes. If you wouldn’t mind.’

The radio sputtered on as you leaned back against the counter. You didn’t recognize it, but Tristan began to hum along.

‘What is this?’ You asked.

Tristan shrugged. ‘Don’t know the name. Heard it before. Goodman I think the chap’s name is?’ He ventured.

‘Tristan!’ Came a recognisable belt from the back entrance. Siegfried charged in, a muddy white coat in his hands. ‘What on earth are you doing? I thought I told you do mix the-’

‘I know, I know. I already did it.’ Tristan interrupted.

‘Well did you organize them correctly? Last time I couldn't find the calcium injections.’

‘He was just keeping me company. He finished his duties.’ You said. ‘I made sure of it.’

Siegfried eyed the pair of you, eyes flicking back and forth. ‘Alright. Good.’ There came a loud barking from the other side of the house, and Siegfried squared his shoulders.

‘Surgeries open. Go on back to work.’ He directed,

Tristan hopped to it, turning back with a grin as he mouthed, ‘like that?’ motioning to the door where the infernal racket came from as people flowed in.

You laughed, nodding in agreement as Tristan gave a self satisfied smile.

Siegfried was still gazing between you with hooded eyes, like he was trying to decide something.

‘Tea Mr. Farnon?’

‘I think so Y/N.’ He took a seat at the table, sighing comfortably as you put the kettle on.

Siegfried Farnon was, to say the least: A lot. Six months as his employee and you'd seen his highs and lows and determined that he was overall a good man with well meaning. But he wasn’t always a kind man. Especially to Tristan who you always wanted to speak out in defense of.

‘Where’s James?’ Mrs. Hall asked as she came through the same back door.

Siegfried checked his watch, a mouth full of toast. ‘Should be at the Hanson’s.’ He guessed.

Mrs.Hall nodded and hung up her coat. Dropping a bag of groceries on the counter. You poured the tea, watching as she went into the corridor. Not a minute passed before she was hurrying back, Tristan on her tail.

‘Siegfried, I’m gonna need your help.’ Tristan announced from the doorway.

Mr. Farnon looked at the tea in his hand dejectedly and stood up following his contemporary.

The air in the sterile operation room was mild. It wasn’t a particularly scary procedure, you just couldn’t do it alone.

You made quick work of cleaning up, having a piece of toast for yourself, before going ahead to see what was happening.

Tristan was examining the area of interest, taking a pair of scissors to the spot. His eyes kept darting up to the window through the makeshift waiting room. You were explaining something to one of the waiting customers who looked especially impatient.

‘What’s that? Why are you so distracted?’ Siegfried asked, watching his little brother bemusedly.

Tristan’s eyes darted back to the task at hand.

‘Nothing. Nothing at all.’ He lied.

Siegfried sniffed at that. ‘You’ve been staring at Y/N like that for the past two weeks. You’re gonna bore a hole in the back of their head if you’re not careful.’

Tristan blushed, itching his forehead as an excuse to hide his face. ‘What do you mean? I haven’t.’ He shot back.

Siegfried raised an eyebrow. ‘That was a bit quick off the mark.’ He observed.

Tristan was blushing furiously. He hadn't even noticed he was doing it. It was annoying. A distraction, and shit. If he didn’t know what to think about this. It started to hit him like a wave. The only thing that had been on his mind for the past two months had been you or the patient. Often you took priority, as little as he’d like to admit it.

‘Wait! Y/N. Wait up!’ Tristan called as he slung his sports coat over his shoulders and jogged to catch up with you.

‘Damnit Siegfried.’ He muttered under his breath as they proceeded with the surgery.

It was a cool spring day. The ground still wet from rain as you splashed against the cobble.

‘I thought you weren’t coming?’ You said as he fell instep beside you.

‘House was too quiet.’ He shrugged, which made you laugh.

‘Now who’s the weirdo!’ You beamed in satisfaction.

Tristan rolled his eyes and you made your way to the cafe.

You sighed as you stepped in. It was so warm and smelled of pastries and good food. You took a table for two and settled in. ordering your food and drink fairly promptly. Most people were out working after the storm so it was considerably quiet. Tristan cleared his throat and took a sip of his tea.

‘It’s funny. I was just thinking, Yknow. I know you pretty well, but I don’t know anything about where you came from. No offense but you seemed pretty desperate when you got here?’

You couldn’t help blushing, feeling a bit embarrassed.

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean that in a bad way! I just wanted to know a bit more about you.’ He was the embarrassed one now.

‘No. It’s alright. I uh, I came from a working family. We made fake flowers for crassages and dresses and stuff. Lots of industrial presses and big machinery. Constant hammering. Not much money in it. We had a little place made of Plywood out the back.’ You admitted.

Tristan hummed in acknowledgement, taking a bite of his food, and sniffing when they couldn’t think of how to respond.

‘Sorry that was a bit much wasn’t it? I shouldn’ have-’

‘No! No. Not at all. I just don’t know what’s right to say? I don’t think sympathy is the right way to go, and I want you to know that I understand and don’t pity you. I think it’s rather remarkable you left it all behind. Going up in the world as you are.’ Tristan hastened a speech, falling into a warm, slightly apologetic smile.

You laughed. Properly laughed, full belly chuckle that Tristan wasn’t sure he had heard before. The sound took him by surprise and he felt his chest swell with fondness as you started to calm down. Wiping your tears away with your napkin.

‘Oh don’t worry about it! I get very well confused sometimes too. But you should have seen your face!’ You chorkled, tossing your napkin on the table.

‘It’s any wonder Siegfried would suggest I have feelings for you; when you laugh at me when I try to have a serious conversation.’ The remark was an utterance. They were looking at their food. But Tristan spoke loud enough for you to hear and that made your heart sink.

‘What’s that?’ you asked.

Tristan looked up at you slightly embarrassed.

‘It’s nothing. Just something my brother said. You know. He’s always saying things about me.’

‘Is it true?’ Your voice had gone small

‘What?’

‘Is it true what he said?’

Tristan started to wring his hands nervously. Internally hating himself for saying anything.

‘Well. I don’t know. I suppose there’s truth in it. Or else he wouldn’t say it would he? Or maybe he would, he’s been rather keen on stretching the truth lately how am I to know?’

‘It’s not for him to know. I think only you can say wether or no it’s true.’ You had to steady your voice. You were not expecting this conversation to take this turn and it was freaking you out.

Tristan took a moment to think, playing idly with his food. ‘I suppose it is, isn't it?’ he seemed to be talking more to himself than to you. ‘That really mucks things up doesn’t it.’

‘Why? Why does it mess anything up?’ You pondered.

Tristan looked up, but he wouldn’t look you in the face. His eyes darted about. ‘Because you’re out employee right? Well, Siegfried anyways. It doesn’t feel entirely ethical to put you in such a position. If something were to go wrong then, well, you probably wouldn’t want to stay would you, and you’d be out on the streets again.’

You nodded in understanding, then shook your head at the idea of never doing anything about it; and how hollow it made you feel.

‘I can find other jobs. I’ve built up enough savings now. It could always go right.’ You said.

Tristan looked at you with longing, dammit why did he have to have such a good ‘kicked puppy’ face?

‘But-’

‘Stop being ridiculous Tristan. I can handle myself well enough. I figure it’s easier to just get to know each other instead of sitting on our hands and hurting ourselves.’ You blurted out.

Tristan looked sympathetically at you. But you weren’t sure if the sympathy was for you or themself. But then you felt their hand brush against your own. The table was small so it was no reach.

‘Really? Are you sure, because I really don’t want to put you in a position-’

You nodded your head vigorously and took hold of his hand, the warmth and softness nearly melting you.

‘I like you a lot more than what’s usually considered ethical.’ Tristan beamed.

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