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eyedove · 7 months

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alright whats up fuckers get timelined.

you want your deep taagnus fankid lore, this might be the only spot ya get it for a while. also included: a little on lup's first kid, a LOT on taako having a bad time in general, some relationship details btwn taako and magnus past and present, casey character development to follow it up, and then a little bit on the twins. the, like, little twins, i mean. the ones that taako and magnus have.

warnings for taako’s general, like, everything: identity crisis, his issues socializing, loneliness, depression, gender dysphoria (weirdly enough, not pregnancy related), his experience with chronic pain, and later being diagnosed with a connective tissue disorder, which in itself is not a trigger warning but moreso his dealing with it is not particularly healthy and could be sort of self-harm-y in a way. and for magnus: his RSD is mentioned, his self-worth issues are alluded to, mentions of past self harm, he gets very emotional about family planning in regards to past relationships, his death is eventually mentioned but isn’t part of the timeline nor is it gone in depth on.

in general they’re also just… taako and magnus. they’re kind of shitty guys and kind of immature and kind of fucked up. they’re good to their kids, they’re just still, y’know. taako and magnus.

i can not stress enough, pregnancy and issues relating to this. difficulties conceiving and postpartum depression are IN. HERE. everything turns out and everyone involved is perfectly fine, it just takes some time to get there and it’s a rough road, but they ultimately end up doing it twice and they’re both pretty firmly in the camp of it being worth it.

anything else that needs to be mentioned please let me know holy shit and i’ll exercise my best judgment, cus i know some of it might be wild to read, but i want to get triggers down for the most part. stuff that’s not triggering, like… oops, sorry, but. it’s taagnus mpreg what do you WANT FROM ME. if i listed everything that people might not like it would just be another 6k words.

basics:

lup’s first kid, missy, is about 5 years older than casey, who was carried by taako, and is about 3½ years older than elodie, who’s a few minutes older than rian, both of which were carried by magnus.

tl;dr coming soon. and by tl;dr i mean a shorter version that’s been picked through and had all of the bullshit unnecessary garbage taken out. :)

timeline:

- after story & song magnus and taako do not talk for like a year. it’s rough. they correspond a little, magnus sends him funny good things he finds like fuckin. silly chainmail messages and pictures of stuff he thinks taako might like, but he’s trying his best not to overstep any boundaries. taako has not actually established these boundaries. magnus has just sort of assumed them. unfortunately, taako is not a guy who goes out of his way to go to magnus’ place of residence and yell at him.

- but he doesn’t keep it up forever. he does go fucking find magnus. and he does go yell at him. and magnus does kind of have a fit about it. but it’s fine. it’s taako, and he also knows that getting down here was probably. a hell of a lot. and he does appreciate it.

- they immediately click though. because of course they do. and a year and change is a long time for them to go without each other while also actively knowing that they’ve gone without each other. it’s weird. taako one minute is living in lup’s empty ass house because she’s at work and kravitz is at work and he hates everyone who has any time to spend with him, and then the next, he and magnus are picking out like. the color of the accent wall in the livingroom. what kind of flooring should be in the hallways. (magnus wants hardwood, taako refuses to go with anything except shag. carpeting.)

- it’s sort of nice! taako stays a homebody but he’s not completely disconnected. weirdly enough, he sees more of lup. and kravitz. and barry and merle and davenport and everyone. mostly because he doesn’t avoid outings as much. and because he starts going to parties. and goes fishing with davenport. and gets all of his and magnus’ weed from merle that he felt too fucking sick to sit home alone and smoke himself. magnus still has like, a business to run. and taako kind of does, too, sort of, even though he’s been really fucking that up recently and taking a huge backseat on accident.

- anyway, they settle. taako’s doing okay. magnus is doing okay. they had already decided years and years and years ago they weren’t gonna get married and EXTRA aren’t gonna now. magnus doesn’t want to get married again. taako hates it as a concept. it’s complicated. but they’re together. it’s semi-open. taako occasionally sleeps with other people. rarely. listen, he barely goes out, let alone fucks around, and magnus knows it.

- lup has missy like 2 yrs after taako moves out. which does mean that she got pregnant only like a year after he left (elven gestation w/ their slow ass metabolisms), which he’s a little peeved about, but whatever, he gets it. he’s happy for her. he’s not as absolutely gutted as he thought he’d be if it ever happened. is he numb? he can't tell.

- turns out he's… not? maybe? yes, taako being dissociated and numb usually results in being a little more blase about stuff than hed normally be, but he feels. in it. he has an attachment that he's used to having, because it's lup, and it feels almost natural again. almost? there is no way he's picking this feeling apart. they will remain complicated forever because a child is definitely not something that he has to confront (all lies he knows he knows better.)

- weird concept: so how about confront it?

- taako is weirded out by this Thing. lup’s proud of it, though, and magnus is immediately and irreparably damaged by holding this baby, taako can see it in his stupid face, the way he just fucking. grins. and tears up and holds this thing so gently. lup is looking at taako like do not let this guy squish my baby, i’ll kill you, and taako’s just thinking the whole time, yeah, i get it, but like. fucking look at him.

- anyway rightfully she doesn’t let magnus hold the thing for more than like ten minutes before she wants it back but it’s fine - they all relax, taako worries about something else for a change, gets his heart ripped out of his body still beating by this thing crying, everything’s good.

- and now he’s obsessed. partly just with missy, lup’s baby, because she’s hilarious and she’s cute, and she literally just keeps getting FUCKING cuter, but partly with the idea of. baby. like. he could have one of those. he’s got everything for it. like, a house, and a boyfriend, and… financial stability. emotional stability? yeah, man! like, he’s super getting there, isn’t he?!

- he and magnus talk one night. taakos literally sat on his chest over the top of him and starts asking him abt this fucking coffee table lup bought when she first moved into her house, and magnus is like oh yeah, i like that thing, it’s really cool, i kinda wanna make one just like it, but it feels like it’d be copying, at this point. and taako’s like holy shit EXACTLY. exactly correct. but what if we did anyway. just, like, in our own. way. y’know? it’d be different if we did it. we could handle it. we have space for it. if we both worked on it maybe we could like. take care of it. sides, it’d be nice to just. have more shit that has some of you. in it. that will last a long time. so i don’t have to like, go out and replace it later, and i… know that it’s from you, and everything, y’know.

- anyway they keep having this conversation. like, every day, taako brings this up. talks about hey, listen, i know that this is uncharacteristic. you gotta take me seriously here, though. i’m so serious. and magnus is like… serious about… buying a coffee table? and taako’s like NO. i mean maybe, if the conversation must go in that. direction. later, but we’re fucking. capable, are we not?? of doing it ourselves? or we should at least find out?

- eventually magnus asks him, hey, are we… talking about… the kind of coffee table. that you and me, have, uh, tried to make. before? and taako goes LOL, tried?! no. we’ve never had the time or resources to get it like, anywhere near a real project. pal, have we maybe accidentally started on it, and then had that shit totally made useless like every other bodily state ever over and over for ninety nine years? i genuinely dunno man, if we have, that’s between our respective guts, the coffee table, and god only. and magnus just goes ohh. so we are definitely talking about the same thing. okay. oh wow.

- they decide they want one! theyll fucking. build a damn. coffee table. okay.

- and so they start! and they work on it! and they fucking! try! they do eventually get to the point where they can say aloud that they’re trying for a baby. it takes an embarrassingly long time. they are not known for their healthy communication. but taako forces it out into the light eventually. he's okay with being silly about it on a basic level but listen, someone has to rein magnus in a little bit on that. a little. (magnus actually hadn't expected taako to go for it, calling what they're doing having kids, so it's a huge surprise and an extremely positive one, because as much as he's stalwart in the idea of honoring the concept, he also kinda gets it.)

- they don't tell people at first. this is entirely because they KNOW people will be weird about it. but the moment he needs someone to complain to he tells lup and then it quickly gets around elsewhere - which. fairly, most people are kind of skeptical. it’s taako. taako? child? lup, though, kinda knows. she still has early adulthood memories of conversations complaining about the world and guys devolving into if i ever have kids... and how early on taako did show interest. how it kind of became a thing he stopped talking about over the decades. she believes him. and her believing him makes it easier for everyone else to kind of fall into place about it.

- and taako has a few freakouts. a couple total meltdowns. but they got it. they get it, after almost two years. they get it down, and both of them flip their absolute FUCKING lids but taako way moreso than magnus was expecting in any way shape or form. yeah, it was taakos idea. yeah, its taako whos carrying, so hes probably way excited about it. he just didnt expect such an explosive reaction out of him. given that he's, y'know. taako.

- literally every problem taakos ever had becomes an issue. his bullshit tolerance is now: none. his energy level is now: none. his heat tolerance is now: none. his blood pressure is now: none. his ability to cook and feed himself is now: uhh, very little. which that second thing is not super abnormal, but the first one kinda sucks more than usual. this also peaks right in the middle of summer. hes convinced hes dying. (hes not. they absolutely make sure hes not.)

- he DOES like having a good excuse to make everyone else do everything for him. not a huge fan of the genuine doting, but having someone on call for a bucket any time any where is a power he didnt know he wanted. he doesnt use it genuinely very often, but magnus is GREAT at coming when called, and thats funny.

- they pointedly do not know the sex. it is partly performative. it is partly because taako is in the THICK of a gender crisis (had been before he got pregnant even, it hasn't gotten particularly worse, but it's still there) and if someone in his life found out and started prescribing shit even on accident or coincidentally based on the thing's genitalia he'd fucking lose his shit, so they just don't know, they're not gonna know, it's not a big deal, leave him alone.

- taakos naturally a toe walker. not abnormal for elves from the two sunned plane. their feet are just built for it. he manages to maintain this for a little while. he's always fluctuated in weight, he's fine - but his balance does indeed get so bad, even with his tail, that he has to start walking on his whole foot so he doesn't lean forward.

- this makes him like four inches shorter than usual. this makes him like five inches shorter than magnus. this makes him SHORTER THAN LUP. and he fucking. despises it. he's still taller than magnus BARELY when he has his ears straight up but this is all he has, and those ears rarely stand up for any long amount of time without extreme effort. they’re HEAVY.

- it does make magnus hugs nice though. magnus won't bearhug him + break his back anymore for the time being, which he misses, but he gets to stuff his face into magnus' chest. which he likes. hes starting to think MAYBE. maybe after he has this baby he MIGHT occasionally get down on his heels just so he can do this. SOMETIMES. but only around select people. there are only a handful of chests hes cool with being smothered in. magnus definitely tops this list.

- it fucking HURTS his HEELS. fuck his ankles or whatever, his heels!!!! he's not used to putting any weight on them. theyre bruised and blistery and he hates it. magnus will now be carrying him forever. (he says this but ends up being the most hermited motherfucker of all time, worse than taako's normal, which is not good, but whatever. people like to come over to HIS HOME and BOTHER HIM, so he doesnt need to go to functions he can't drink or smoke at anyway).

- he is, however, feeling really fucking good about how fucking AWESOME he is, currently. like, one, everyone had to admit that he’s taking things super super well, and two, he’s being SO open right now. he’s being so chill. he’s being communicative, he’s being honest. he’s not being NICE because that’s just not on the table for taako, but he’s kind of enjoying having a good excuse to be a little more snuggly. a little more needy. sometimes. when he’s not so pissed off he could scream.

- magnus is a fucking. wreck. hes good! hes doing good! but hes crying ALL the TIME. and its PISSING taako off slowly more and more. he knows its just because hes worried or overwhelmed or whatever. who cares. its annoying. he is nice though. maybe the nicest hes ever been to taako. there are a significant number of people who are being nice to him, actually, which is hilarious, and also extremely frustrating. LUP. even lup wont fuck with him in the same way. he has to keep pressing her buttons harder and harder to get her to react. HOWEVER: one person is still ready to pick on him.

- lup's 5 y/o daughter. is RELENTLESS. and honest to god one of the most stable and delightful things throughout the whole pregnancy. this kid has only the vaguest idea of what's going down, is extremely nice, but also compromises NO asks. if she wants him to make her breakfast she WILL cry about it. if she wants to play with his hair, she'll figure out how to do it, even if shes gotta ambush him. great tenacity on this girl.

- they have casey, their first kid, spring-ish? early spring. they have her at home. it sounds like a great idea at the time, and it turns out perfectly fine, but there is the ego barrier of describing to people the story of your firstborn child being PLANNED on being delivered by a lich and the grim reaper along with the boyfriend and then ending up getting stagefright. this is good, you might think, this means grubby corpsehands aren't on your newly born child! and you would be correct, instead it's just magnus, who is crying MORE than the baby and taako combined and it's FUCKING annoying, and lup's not even there to make it funnier. it's fine. it's like, bonding. and shit.

- shes small. smaller than taako would have thought and also would have hoped, and shes bald, and her ears are fucked up somehow, they dont have anything, like, in them to move them around or whatever it seems like, but maybe she'll grow into that. maybe that's fine. not a whole lot of info out there currently on babies who are half alien elf half alien human. so yknow. as long as she's eating and breathing and warm and clean they're pretty happy.

- taako can not let this thing go. magnus occasionally gets to hold her or feed her, but for her first nine/ten days, taako has her almost exclusively and wont put her down. he started sleeping later into his pregnancy because it required less effort than meditating (altho it takes more time), but hes back to it now, so he can keep this baby, who he has still not named btw!, in his arms and remain alert enough to sleep with her.

- two weeks. three weeks. she's FINALLY getting a little bigger. MAYBE taako can manage to have people over to see her in person instead of just showing photos. maybe. the amount of people that technically know about this kid's existence even is a ridiculously low number. the amount of people in the public that knew he was having a kid is most, since he made a statement about it, but the kid herself was never, like. announced. he just doesn't. want to share. at all.

- gets rough. gets really rough. having lup and missy over nearly kills him. he cant even let his TWIN SISTER hold his baby. what the fuck is wrong with him? what is wrong with their relationship? why does he feel like it somehow makes him a better parent when it does not? why has he lost all control of what emotional stability he had? he'd been worried he wouldn't be attached enough to her, that he'd fuckin, abandon her or whatever, and it's so nice that that fear was unwarranted that he doesn't want to confront that he's overcorrecting.

- missy gets to hold casey before lup does. and taako feels bad about it, kinda. BUT: she didn't technically hold the baby on her own, taako just held her while missy put her arms under her as well, but still. then lup. this was a few visits in. casey is still not technically named yet, but taako knows already. kinda.

- she gets her name by two months. it's not elven, like he and lup had, but it's got the same basic rules, which is a compromise he and magnus come up with. once she gets old enough, if she wants something else, she fuckin' names herself. if she wants something else for like. gender purposes, they'll deal with that when that comes up. for now she's casey. burnsides? maybe.

- she stays FUCKING BALD. taako can not get over it. he has hair. magnus is COVERED in it. why's she bald? why's she SO BALD?

- magnus is audhd and taako is autistic. they know that she's gonna probably not necessarily follow the average infant timeline. this turns out to be extremely true. she's very quiet. she makes noises, but even as she gets into multiple years of exposure, she doesn't speak common or elvish, except repeating certain phrases she's heard often (some of her favorites are calling magnus mean names and 'i don't want to', because the former makes her parents laugh and the latter makes uncomfortable situations resolve a lot of the times it's used).

- she also doesn't walk. ok, she kinda walks, she gets up on her feet and uses walls and objects to walk alongside them, or walks slowly with a leg to hold onto. she's very particular and delicate about her foot placement, but still ends up with her ankles out. magnus thinks she might be rolling them? but she seems okay? they get that checked out, though. definitely. make sure she's not in pain or anything. she ends up with some braces for her ankles and heel, but she's still more than a little pigeon toed.

- casey is a shy little thing. very observant. she likes watching people do things. literally anything. she will sit and watch taako cook, she likes to watch the aquarium, she likes to watch people write and draw and cast spells, she likes making other people play with her toys so she can watch. she sleeps with taako and magnus more often than not, either being held by taako while he meditates or lying between them on the mattress once she gets a little older.

- missy ADORES her. missy is a little upset that she doesn't like dressing up and having her hair played with, but she loves casey's dark red hair, thinks shes super cute, loves her floppy ears, just adores her. this is, to her, her baby sister, and taako and lup do nothing to dissuade that. basically are sisters, right? who cares. they live right next to each other, and see each other almost every day, since taako does a lot of watching them during the day now, which… admittedly, he's still working on, but he's got like 8 years of experience by now, three of those with his own baby, so he's. like, getting it. he's understanding it.

- this is around the time taako starts hiring out losers to watch the children (or child, sometimes just casey). ie he makes angus do it when possible, or alum he's still pals with from some of the first years of the school's establishing, or other family friends who are around. merle's off limits. as is she who shall not be MENTIONED in his household.

- with a tiny bit of time alone magnus and taako find out that … they want another kid. taako brings it up. another baby. oops.

- again, taako brings it up, but magnus is fully on board. except… hold on not really: shit was ridiculously rough on taako specifically, and he’s really, really not excited to have taako go thru it again. which is fair. definitely in the top 100 shitty wild things that have happened to taako, if only for the relative novelty of it and how much it sticks in his memory (haw-haw), but like. he wouldn’t say it if he wasn’t willing to do it one more time. like, just once. he’s got it in the bag now, he knows what’s up. plus, he would not at all mind having like. a year off. of just being sick and hanging out with casey and missy. magnus is skeptical. their decision is easier this time, though, even with everything considered.

- they talk about it briefly but they’re pretty into the idea of magnus carrying, maybe. if they can get it to work. they had some fuckin issues last time, so, like. what if they start trying (stressful but cool), see if it sticks (lower amount of stress, more casual) and if it does that’s cool, and if it doesn’t, oops, must be something that’s not gonna happen? magnus is an older guy at this point, which was factored in but ultimately didn’t keep them from giving it a shot. once again they start trying without actually telling. anybody. except each other. mostly because it’s not set in stone.

- funnily enough? performing in this way specifically gives taako weird dysphoria. there’s also a little scene in which magnus, who’s been out as nonbinary for like, 15 years at this point, talks about how he’s totally cool with carrying a child, doesn’t bother him, he’s nonbinary, NOT that it’d be weird if a man did it, because you did it taako and that was fine, and that also makes taako squirm a little. he’s working on it. he’s spent so fucking long getting that like, femme in a masculine way thing down, why’s it bothering him now?? ugh.

- luckily, doesn’t take a whole lot of trying. unluckily, taako is a little annoyed that magnus gets pregnant so easily. whatever. he still gets his baby out of it. (yeah, casey is his baby, this baby is their baby, since he can’t claim it all himself, but it’s still definitely partly his, duh. casey is just his though.)

- angus starts doing babysitting stuff for casey. taako ALSO ends up getting his GODDAMN… joints checked out. fine. whatever. for casey, because she’s having issues with her joints too, obviously, and he can talk about how he feels slightly more than his mostly nonverbal toddler. he’s forced himself to be verbal over the fucking. centuries. so he gets it. he can handle maybe informing whatever genetic thing she’s fucking got, cus he’s kind of always known that lup doesn’t have nearly the same difficulty he does with chronic pain. so this is on him. this is on him now.

- taako gets himself a nonspecific hypermobility disorder diagnosis. so, like, sweet, i fuckin guess, he’s gone like 300 years without it. also, they don’t even have an actual name for it. thanks. feels awesome. after years and years of forcing it down, he’s forced to actually pay attention to the pain and it Fucking Sucks. not a project he thought he’d be starting on while magnus was pregnant, but whatever. it’s fine. life is FINE.

- magnus is actually faring really well. which is also jealousy-inducing in taako. anyway, magnus is sort of miserable about how low energy he is, suddenly, though, but that’s about the most of it, since his brain doesn’t slow down to match the pace of his body. not in the traditional sense, anyway. taako does not understand what he means by this because to him magnus is still bouncing off the walls. he is, however, a great source of humor at the time (as he fucking ALWAYS is, taako always finds him ridiculously stupidly too fucking funny for him to even be REAL, ugh).

- double appointment day. taako sends casey off with angus, and they’re gonna do… whatever they do. he’s given angus some free rein on what he does with the baby. he kinda trusts angus’ instinct. a little more than he did when casey was an infant, anyway. this is a decision he will eventually regret, because while he is getting the shit annoyed out of him by being quizzed on his pain and fitted for digitigrade AFOs he doesn’t want to use (the other braces recommended arent as bad since his like, fingers aren’t so different from most people’s, it’s just just feet and legs that need extra special shit) and then getting slammed with the major whammy of the fact that up until now magnus has been RIGHT: they’ve been missing a TWIN at past appts, and twins are now for sure confirmed. plus, angus is doing unspeakable things, ie he has been introducing casey to lucretia even though taako has said this should not be done at all. today, lucretia makes the mistake of seeing if taako has been teaching her elven sign language.

- magnus is beyond stoked, taako is torn between being excited and being extremely, outrageously jealous because if one of them was going to have twins, it should have been him, goddammit. but whatever. they tell the relevant parties: ie again it stays mostly under wraps except to really close family.

- casey continues seeing lucretia. it’s not a SECRET, it’s just not being said out loud to taako, exactly, is angus’ reasoning here. they both know that it’s going to get out eventually - and it happens sooner rather than later, for sure. what ends up breaking it wide open is one night taako is watching casey and she makes a motion at him that he’s absolutely certain at first is a sign, but it’s just mixed in with a bunch of other hand waving and other movements she’s prone to doing. so it can’t be. plus, he hasn’t been teaching her elven sign. nobody has, have they? So after she goes to bed, taako stands in front of magnus and makes the same series of movements - nonsense and all, and gets confirmation from magnus that it looks a lot like sign language, but magnus denies teaching it to her.

- lup also denies teaching it to her. lup and taako haven’t used it in tens of years, and when they aren’t using it, there isn’t a reason for the other birds to use it, given that it was mostly used for taako to communicate. plus, very few people on faerun use it, given that it’s a language that doesn’t even originate on the goddamn plane. she’s not learning it from angus, probably. probably? FUCK.

- taako confronts angus about it and he immediately folds and tells taako everything on lucretia’s behalf, because he knows it’s going to get rough if they have to be in the same room together. taako is. devastated. and angry. but angus explains to him that he’s always there, he makes a super good middle man, casey LOVES lucretia, they get along really well, she hasn’t been telling casey anything controversial. casey isn’t even old enough to like, get lucretia’s life story. she’s not getting lucretia propaganda, taako. but she has been um, maybe, using elven sign language, because they thought maybe you’d been trying that, too, because she hasn’t been verbal. Taako confirms he has NOT been, he hasn’t used it since cycle 99 started, because he had it fucking TAKEN from him, is the thing.

- but magnus also starts using it again. starts speaking in ESL to casey. taako gets mad about it, but he can’t deny that it’s much more comfortable for him most of the time, and that he can use his limited energy being more expressive bodily when he doesn’t have to curate his voice specifically like he does when talking aloud. magnus is into it! and he makes sure to tell taako this. taako starts using ESL more. a little. to see if casey will pick it up.

- casey does pick it up. casey picks it up much easier than common or elvish. she has some coordination issues in her hands like taako does, exacerbated by her being like four, but she can communicate a little better and it’s. weird. it’s weird. taako is weirded out by it. but everyone else in the house just keeps - even lup gets in on it, so…

- he gets to talk to casey more. it’s so sweet. she’s an asshole and he loves it. she is a lot like taako in so many ways. it is a weird thing to witness. she’s not exceedingly social. she’s kind of . aloof. which is something he knows he’s been accused of, but he didn’t really get it until he saw literally his fuckin. weird self reflected back at him. he realizes pretty quick that she’s definitely a person. she’s fairly independent and at this stage ENJOYS sleeping in her own bed. she likes the routine of brushing her teeth before bed. she hates socks (so does taako), she loves bugs, but she’s scared of dogs. she likes magnus’ woodwork, but doesn’t like powertools, and has next to no interest in magic, but she does like watching taako cook - she also has strong opinions about food, which taako is a little frustrated about at first, but soon finds is fun to work around. he likes flexing his cooking creativity for the first time in years.

- taako fucking. eventually uses his braces, but only because he wants casey to also use them. she has such a hard time walking and he absolutely hates the idea of her being in any amount of pain, much less pain comparable to what he went through as a kid before he made himself deal with it quietly. neither taako nor casey are big on the sensory input these things provide, but they get through it together. they are just kind of on the same wavelength when it comes to sensory overload - so even if taako doesn’t realize it, given that he’s had hundreds of years to perfect masking even to himself, once casey’s had about enough of it, taako can pretty reliably tell that it’s probably time for him to give himself a break, too, if he can manage it. she’s helping him out a lot, even if she doesn’t exactly know it.

- that winter is when elodie and rian are born, in that order. not at home this time, which magnus is a little indignant about because he’s the tough guy here, but ultimately there’s not a whole lot of fight about it. this is partly because magnus burnsides is a bird, and gets whatever he wants, and if he wants a parade of like 20 goddamn people present, nobody, not even a medical professional, has the power to stop him. this time, names were picked out beforehand, mostly because magnus was DEAD SET on not waiting until they were multiple months old. they get these names assigned to them in the same way casey did - as child names, if they want to change them, or permanent if they don’t, or whatever the hell they want to do. magnus takes immediately to calling them duckie and goose, respectively, because he knows that everyone will back him up if taako tries to tell him he can’t call his newly born children what he wants to call them as nicknames. (they do fight about it. everybody is, indeed, on magnus’ side, if only because they’re tired of the naming scheme taako is perpetuating, here.)

- he has also been calling casey bunny for a few years at this point because of her floppy ears (taako wouldn’t let him get away with ‘dumbo’ any longer), so it fits the theme. (he later gets a duckling, a gosling, and a bunny tattooed on him. they can change their names all they want, but their childhood nicknames are his forever now!)

- magnus, uh, DOES have a little stint of oh god what have i done. turns out that weirdly enough, having taako baby him a little bit makes him feel better. having taako be kind and surprisingly understanding about his feelings is weird and puts him on edge at first, but really, taako was like this when he was pregnant, too, where he’s a little more open and a little more emotionally available, so it’s not super surprising in a way that makes it impossible to believe that taako’s actually willing to give him space to grieve and think and worry and wonder.

- elodie and rian are also digitigrade, but their ears are more solid. not quite as mobile as taako’s, but they have some muscle in them instead of casey’s little floppy thing she has going on. they’re cute and all, but the biggest thing taako can’t get over is the fact that they are both born with hair. istus just keeps fucking kicking him while he’s down. magnus doesn’t even worship her, what the fuck.

- they’re both VERY LOUD. casey wasn’t a crier, the twins are. they’re loud, they’re rowdy, they’re babies. they’re, like, real babies, and not little weird creatures like casey. casey is a bug, not a baby, elodie and rian are infants. taako has already set a precedent of being a nighttime caretaker, given that magnus needs 8 hrs of sleep/night and he needs 4 hrs of meditation. so this continues, for the most part.

- yes, they have two infants. they also have a little girl who is now getting finally also fitted for orthotics which is cool. she’s also learning ESL. magnus, taako, lucretia, and lup all know it. basically everyone in her life knows sign language. magnus is a little rusty, but he’s taking like. ‘lessons’ from taako. this is also being taught in moderation to the twins, but the twins have their own shit going on between each other. taako gets to watch these things develop twin language WITHOUT HIM. it’s fine.

- lucretia becomes a slightly more… common… occurrence. he sees her at parties and gatherings now - they start being invited to the same things. they’re not involved with each other closely, but they’re adjacent. they talk SOMETIMES. if there’s a buffer between them. mostly at these gatherings, and only when taako’s sober. the moment he’s imbibed anything magnus physically gets between them. it becomes missy and casey’s jobs to watch the twins and magnus’ to watch taako to make sure he doesn’t say or do anything too fucked up.

- elodie is a huge casey fan. loves casey to death, but they have the sibling dynamic going on where casey is so focused on being fully enamored with an looking up to missy that she sort of ignores elodie, and elodie is so focused on casey that she ignores missy, who just wants everyone to be friends together so bad.

- the twins are definitely a step up in complicated parenting. casey was a good first step. somehow? got what is the beginner-friendliest baby. some fucking how. these guys, though. elodie is a very curious kid, a very energetic kid, a very intense kid. playful, extroverted. chatty even when she doesn’t have like. language down yet. rian less so. rian’s more like casey in this regard. less chatty. needs a lot of quiet time.

- magnus used to have a stim where he would ball up his fist and slam it into his chest or shoulder, which definitely, definitely was not good for him, given that he eventually got very strong and was giving himself some pretty gnarly bruises and lacerations with it. he also used to (still does, but slightly less) deal with really bad RSD. it kind of fucks him up watching rian go through the same things. taako is just kind of like “yeah, dude, the dark mirror, we’ve all been peering into it” and magnus is like wow. huh. this is wild. i’m sorry, little guy.

- rian ends up sharing a room with casey once he’s old enough (not permanently, but it’s an option for him). he does better in a quiet environment and elodie is not super conducive to this, but casey is, with her also preferring no loud or repetitive sounds. she also relies more heavily on ESL than the other kids, which rian uses with her quite often while he feels more pressured into speaking verbally to others.

- by this time magnus has made casey what he calls her rabbit hutch - basically, as a toddler, she always ended up like, under her bed, or in her closet, or what have you to sleep. taako’s solution to this was ‘oh baby come sleep in my bed then’, but she didn’t want this, so magnus makes her a little doghouse style thing. A canopied bed, but with solid walls and a weighted base, and a tighter space inside. it doesn’t last her into her teens, but she does use it a lot as a little kid. it’s like a permanent blanket fort. taako’s embarrassed that his daughter lives in a fucking dog house his boyfriend made, but she loves it - and eventually starts letting rian in there, too.

- elodie also likes going in there but 3 kids can’t fit at once, and also she gets bored really fast so most of the time it’s casey and rian time only. and they just sit silently in there.

- listen i have a ton of twin lore in my brain but it’s very difficult to put down in a concise way. i’ll get it out. some day. til then have basics. elodie is a big girl, she’s a tough little girl, she likes being able to help out her mama. (even taako is not allowed to call magnus this. elodie and rian, however, are. for taako is it papa strictly. papa bear will also be tolerated. encouraged.) she loves AXES. she wants one so bad. she’s like six and it’s all she wants for every gift-giving event ever is a REAL AXE. taako and elodie absolutely have a Real Sword type conversation. elodie thinks it’s hilarious, but also kind of frustrating because no, dad, she really does actually want a real axe.

- elodie ALSO isn’t really a dog person. they’re okay! she likes them! she’s just not like, dog obsessed. despite magnus’ best efforts, she does not develop canine special interest, which he’s a little sad about, but it’s okay, because he does eventually get it with rian, thankfully. SOMEONE fucking likes dogs in this goddamn household.

- elodie does however LOVE their cats. she’s neutral on the fish and shrimp (did i mention they have a huge saltwater tank. they do. taako raises shramps). she wants a goat. she’s not the pony kid, that’s rian.

- rian is fucking obsessed with animals in general. he loves casey’s stuffed animals. he loves garyl. he loves dogs, especially the big rough guys, mostly because they can handle some roughhousing. he and magnus wrestle, which magnus loves, and they do a lot of work with the dogs, which is GREAT, because by the time rian is 8 or 9 magnus really, really just wants to get back to working regularly, doing dog training and stuff, and he loves having angus and rian around to help.

- OKAY ALL I REALLY KNOW BEYOND THIS IS THAT casey gets really into rollerskating. she likes drawing, but doesn’t stick with it. she likes roleplaying games. taako and lucretia are keyword kinda reintroduced to each other’s lives after a LOT of strife and a lot of fuckups. casey lives with taako for quite a while. idk about the twins yet, but i know that casey is not really ready to go do her own thing for quite a while, and even after she does move out, she’s always got her dad on speed dial, and out of everyone in the universe once magnus is gone, she is one of the only people he will ALWAYS pick up the phone for. every single time, doesn’t matter what he’s doing.

ta da there’s more, obviously, but like. this is where i’m at. currently. with my fucking. six million words (realistically more like 40-50k, it’s hard to compile when it’s spread out across many text docs and google docs and shit.)

#taagnus #taag bbs #pregnancy #pregnancy w #I MEAN IT AS PREGNANCY WARNING BUT PREGNANCY W IS ALSO TRUE KINDA. IDK HOW TO TAG FOR THAT BUT ITS IN THE DAMN TEXT BODY TOO SO LISTEN #caseyposting...#i think that counts as caseyposting.#ask for trigger tags seriously. but it is also all under a readmore with a trigger list beforehand. so.

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flibbertygigget · 10 months

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look, if i see one more person mischaracterizing an actually very complicated and nuanced position in the most simplified and bad faith way possible i'm gonna SCREAM

#this is about this one post #where someone had an opinion about trigger warnings for horror movies that was like 'they should be available in certain contexts #but it should be acceptable to put them under spoiler warnings/readmore/other things #bc sometimes the shock is part of the message'#and people were dogpiling on them like they'd murdered someone #they weren't even saying tws were BAD they just had a nuanced opinion #tumblr can be so fucking dumb sometimes

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catboymoments · 1 month

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Hi all I’ve been wanting to make something with huntlow and re: trauma processing for a while now, they mean a lot to me in terms of how I relate to them and how sweet they r… however I chose not to sugarcoat the dialogue because I feel like topics like these shouldn’t be shied away from and Should be discussed, but because it’s triggering I’m putting where it starts under a readmore so!! Heed the warnings pls

cw for talk about c/sa

They make me so emotional and soft guah… thank you for supporting me and encouraging me to write about this stuff I love you all

#my art #The owl house #toh #huntlow #hunter noceda clawthorne wittebane deamonne whispers #willow park #cw csa #csa mention #ask to tag #sa mention

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erodasfishtacos · 3 months

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The Body Factory (sexclubowner!h)

Hellloooo!

It’s been a long while since I posted here. I am still going strong on patreon with 4-5 one shots a month with anywhere from 8 to 14k words usually (sometimes more) + blurbs. I decided to released one of my new tropes, just part one on here and if it sounds good maybe consider joining for $3USD a month to read more parts of this and many others coming up!!!

prompt: yn doesn’t feel fufilled in her relationship and so her fiancé, Arthur, comes up with an idea to help but it doesnt turn out as either of them expected aka sex club owner!h

word count: 8k

warnings: under-negotiation, power play, mean h, choking, safeword, cheating but not really yet

🛑 there is a scene that could potentially be triggering so i am going to put a brief summary at the end of the fic if you’d like to check whether it’s a appropriate read for yourself. 🛑

Author’s Note: I have had this idea on my mind for months and have been so extremely excited to share it with you. It has really really been inspiring to me as I don’t have a trope like this. I hope you enjoy.

Arthur was nice.

Arthur was a safe choice.

It’s why when YN’s father introduced them, it didn’t really seem like an option to turn down the invitation to go out to dinner at the swankiest restaurant in town.

The date had been so incredibly unexciting that YN had no doubt that he would not ask for a second one.

They had nothing in common, the space was often filled with an awkward silence, and averted gazes to the walls or out the window next to their seating.

Arthur was nice.

Arthur was polite, he held the door and paid for the bill before walking her to her car with the chaste kiss to her cheek.

It absolutely boggled her mind when her father informed her the next day that Arthur had told her that he had an amazing time and was going to ask her for a second date in the next upcoming days.

YN hated the mere idea of disappointing her parents, she had already let them down enough with her career choice not to join the family business

:readmore:

instead becoming neonatal nurse, despite that being a massive accomplishment, it wasn’t praised because she didn’t go to be a lawyer like both her mother and father.

It felt like most of the time she was on thin ice with her parents because of her education and career choice, even down to the car she drove (they thought it was too sporty and not practical enough) which left her in a precarious position.

She relied on them for help with her student loans.

YN was still trying to get her feet on the ground with her apartment landlord just bumping up her rent by nearly five-hundred pounds, her car note, among all the other things that came with being an adult that she wasn’t financially capable of managing yet.

Her parents agreed to pay for her school loans.

However, it came with silet threat of staying in their good gracious or they would cut her off at any moment, they had threatened it enough when she got into nursing school and informed them that she would be attending, she must have heard them threaten her inheritance half a million times.

Arthur was her ticket back into her parent’s limelight.

He was fresh out of law school but he was incredibly intelligent, good at what he did, and had multiple firms vying for him to join their legal council but he had chosen YN’s family’s business because of their well-known reputation.

Arthur came from old money, which had given him an extremely privileged life and a headstart into success as soon as he was born.

He was the great-grandson of an oil tycoon whom he had reaped the benefits ever since.

The second date happened, then the third, then the fourth.

No spark.

No chemistry.

Atleast on YN’s end because Arthur seemed happy as a clam in their relationship, he praised YN to anyone who would listen, and was consistently bragging about their life to anyone that would listen to him.

He was nice to her.

He remembered important dates, brought her flowers to work, and had dinner made when she walked in the door on nights that she worked late shifts and he got home before her.

Time passes and they celebrate their first year anniversary, then their second, then their third.

On the fourth was when he got down on one knee and professed his love to her in front of all their family and friends on Christmas Day at an extravagant party at his parent’s estate.

The diamond ring that he slid onto her finger was ridiculous, too big to not just be flaunting wealth, and it wasn’t a style that she liked but she lied and told him that she loved it.

There was an emptiness in her chest when he proposed, she was teary-eyed but she couldn’t determine whether it was from happiness or dread that she was going to spend the rest of her life with the man in front of her.

It wasn’t his fault in the slightest.

Arthur was just Arthur.

He lacked depth, there was nothing behind his twinkling brown eyes beside law, money, and judgement.

Arthur treated her nicely consistently, they barely ever fought, and he never raised his voice at her.

When he got frustrated, he just got an exasperated tone and took time to himself in his office until he had calmed down enough to talk.

But that was once in a blue moon.

They’ve never had a blow-out because he was so agreeable and accommodating.

That’s exactly what was missing from their relationship.

YN didn’t crave toxicity, not one bit, she wanted a healthy relationship with positive communication, understanding, and all the things that make that up.

YN did crave excitement, humor, sexual tension, and the type of relationship that kept her on her toes, got her adrenaline pumping and making her stomach turn in nervous knots because she didn’t always know what to expect out of her partner.

Arthur was as predictable as a clock, had no spontaneity up his sleeve, and his sense of humor was nonexistent.

YN had a partner that she’d been with in college named Klein.

He wasn’t the love of her life, not by a long shot, but he had been wild, on the edge of insane half-of-the-time, and always kept their relationship exciting.

He would show up at her part-time cafe job, with a fake excuse to her boss about a death in his family, and he needed her support.

When YN would walk out to his motorcycle with him, concerned about his grandmother’s death, he would only smile at her, inform her that his grandmother has been dead for fifteen years, and that he was going to take her on a hike to see a waterfall she’d mentioned wanting to see once in passing.

But then there was their sex life, it was phenomenal and unlike the few half-hapzard experience she had before him.

He was confident, dominant, and introduced her to things that she used to not even have the nerve to say out loud let alone do.

It was him who introduced her to BDSM and they explored it for nearly two and a half years of their relationship.

YN did research while they were together and after the fact, she had even attended a few virtual training sessions to learn about correct techniques, safety precautions, and learning the dynamic of power play which engrossed her to no end.

However, when Klein requested they open their relationship, that had been such an unexpected turn-off that she no longer felt the connection that was there before.

The end of the relationship was amicable, they were still friends on social media and liked each others posts but it was at that point they realized they wanted different things and they couldn’t provide that to one another.

Where Klein wanted flexibility, uncertainty, and fluidity.

YN wanted regimen, structured, and a deep sense of connection with one person.

She did not want multiple doms nor did she want her dom to have multiple submissives.

She wanted all the attention on her, her dom would be absolutely captivated by her and be so connected to her physically, mentally, spiritually that they only want her.

Her ideal dom would never mention sharing.

Which isn’t to shame it because it was more common than not to have an open relationship, partner sharing, and swapping.

YN loved the idea of becoming comfortable with someone enough that she could be a brat which she wasn’t an easy submissive she had come to learn.

Her dominant had to work for her submission, sometimes she crumbled quickly and other times it took multiple punishments until the smirk was wiped from her face and replaced with tears on her puffy cheeks from the pinpricks of pain.

After Klein, she had gone on a few dates, some she even hooked up with but she never clicked enough with them to talk about anything like that.

And so she wrapped it up into a nice, neat box and tucked it into the back of her mind because she would find the right partner who would be compatible sexually with her.

Right?

Arthur and her had no sexual chemistry.

Arthur was just as polite in the bedroom as he was outside of it, he never put her in a unique position, and preferred to rotate between the missionary and doggy style.

He would occasionally go down on her but he didn’t know what he was doing so it didn’t feel like much of anything as most of the time he couldn’t even locate her clit.

Which meant fingering was out of the question because he didn’t even know the g-spot existed.

Anytime she managed to orgasm, it was from her own hand, getting herself off because she was past the point of asking him to try to do it.

Arthur did not have a high sex drive and YN felt guilty for being thankful for it.

He wasn’t doing anything wrong, he was trying, and it was so unsatisfying that YN felt like her skin itched sometimes because she hadn’t realized until Arthur how much she craved sexual intimacy with her significant other.

Again, Arthur initiated once a week, sometimes twice or sometimes not for a few weeks when his work is really busy.

YN was six years into a relationship of unfilled desire, disconnect, and a lack of satisfaction which she would have never seen for herself at only being twenty-nine years old.

The wedding was set for fourteen months away, at a vineyard on the coast of Italy.

It was decided by everyone but her as with most things she felt like nowadays.

YN had been scrolling through a blog post when something caught her eye.

It was written by a female who had a similar lack of connection with her partner in the bedroom but wanted more.

The writer had described that as soon as she asked if they could experiment with BDSM that their relationship had completely shifted, they were more in love than ever, and their sex life was more amazing than it had been in nearly a decade.

It was the motivation that YN needed to have the conversation with Arthur, with the hope that it would ignite a flame that had yet to be struck between the two of them.

YN loved Arthur, she wanted to be in love with him but she couldn’t honestly say she was at this point in their relationship.

Arthur had been surprised by the conversation, over dinner one night, if the way he sputtered red wine onto his crisp white button-up was an indicator.

His eyes had gone wide in a look of almost horror and he cleared his throat a handful of times while they discussed it in more detail.

“I just feel like it would be something fun to try out,” YN tries to keep it casual, to not let on to how much she desired this or knew that she would already love it.

“Erm, yeah. I would be open to it,” Arthur had agreed sheepishly, putting down his fork and knife.

“No, I do not want you to feel pressured at all! I just -” YN begins to try to soothe because she had not meant to get such a reaction of concern more than lust out of her fiance.

He chuckles kindly, smiling at her as he reaches across the table to hold her hand, “We can try it, if that’s what you want. I am open to whatever will make you happy, sweetie pie.”

Sweetie pie….

YN tried not to blatantly cringe every time he called her that.

It did not work out.

They did not even get a few minutes into foreplay when Arthur backed out, saying that he just didn’t feel like he knew what to do, and that he’d prefer if they just did their normal thing.

YN agreed, trying to swallow the disappointed lump in her throat because she didn’t want to guilt him in to trying anything he wasn’t into.

They didn’t discuss it again after that for a long while.

Arthur wasn’t blind to the shift after that night.

He now knew that he was not satisfying a need that YN desired and she had just seemed more subdued since he had called it off but was trying to hide it because he knew that she wasn’t trying to make him feel bad about not wanting it.

It had been on his mind though.

“A sex club?” YN’s eyes nearly buldge from her sockets, puting down her glass of water and ignoring the splashes it leaves on her hand because what had Arthur just recommended they try?

“Yes. A BDSM club or a kink club they call it. Maybe if I see other people doing it or we get into the right atmosphere, it will work better. At least off the start?” Arthur seems just as nervous as her, he hadn’t touched his food.

“And…I just…” YN was at a loss for words because this is just the most unexpected turn of events.

“Maybe I can learn from others. Really get good at it for you, you know?” He suggests, his eyes looking anywhere but at hers.

“Yeah, yeah let’s do it.”

The Body Factory was the club that Arthur had decided after doing his research.

He needed somewhere secretive, exclusive, and with iron-clad NDA’s so that no one could use this against him in his profession which was fair enough.

That’s where The Body Factor came into play.

There were guidelines to a membership:

You must make over a hundred-and-fifty thousand pounds a year.

You were sign and resign an NDA every three months.

A deposit of ten thousand pounds, it will not be refunded if any rules or regulations are broken.

You will send in health screenings every two months, proof of birth control (if female), and a background check.

You may not belong to any other clubs during the time of your membership at The Body Factory.

YN was quite shocked that Arthur had dished out that amount of money on the deposit for something that they weren’t sure that they were going to like nor want to continue to visit even though the membership spans for a year at a time.

“If we go, hate it, and decide to never go back, just consider it a really expensive date night,” Arthur had assured her with a chuckle, she knew of his wealth but even this seemed a bit like frivolous spending but little did she know it was just his desperation to make her happy.

The club was in the packing district of all places, tucked back in between massive factories, some that were still open and operating, others that had been abandoned for years now.

It was actually in an old clothing factory that had been renovated to resemble any other high-end club, from the inside there would be no way that anyone could even tell except for the incredibly high ceilings at some points.

However, the location in the city and of building choice gave a lot of privacy of entering and exiting, it wasn’t advertised nor did it have any sign indicating of their presence.

It was a maze of alleyways until the entrance appeared, a dingy door that was rusted and gave no indication of what was inside, someone walking past would have never looked twice or thought anything of the building nor the entrance.

Everything was matte black, dark, and dimmed.

There were occasional deep emerald green accents but everything was sleek, modern, and simple but in the most elegant way as they walked in.

YN’s heart was in her throat.

Where people going to be fucking right when they walk in?

Or people being led around on leashes right off the bat?

Arthur may pass out.

However, there’s a front desk, almost like at an office with a woman dressed in a incredibly fitted sleek black dress with smooth, curled hair, and makeup like it was done by a professional, she had to be a model because she was gorgeous as she smiled widely and checked them in.

They had to show their licenses, hand over physical copies of their screenings, NDA’s even though they had to sign them virtually too.

There were two security guards in black suits with earpieces standing by large, heavy dark oak doors with their hands crossed in front of them.

This seemed like a movie or just not real with how sophisticated this whole process was.

“Enjoy,” Penelope, the receptionist had chirped with the whitest, most perfect smile she’d ever seen.

Arthur seemed a bit awestruck for a moment and YN couldn’t even fault him for it.

The two guards move aside to open the doors, nodding for them to go in before closing them firmly behind them.

YN finds herself reaching for Arthur’s hand, nervous and shaky with new experience anxiety and adrenaline that she was finally getting back into what she wanted even more so.

There were people mingling, sipping on drinks, and all fully clothed.

It wasn’t until Arthur informed her, “Play starts at ten, the first hour is to introduce, mingle, meet.”

Ah, that makes sense.

It almost builds the tension, YN feels like she can taste it on the tip of her tongue.

They walk over to the bar, another beautiful women greets them right away, laying a napkin down in front of both of them, “Newbies?”

“Yes,” Arthur nods, pointing to himself first, “I’m Arthur, this is YN, my fiance.”

The bartender quirks an eyebrow as she not-so-subtly scans them, “Nice to meet you two. I’m Raven. I bartend Friday through Sunday here. What are you drinking?”

“A moscow mule,” YN asks, maybe some alcohol will loosen her nerves.

“It’s a dry club, babe,” Raven smiles patiently as her long fingernails click against the smooth surface.

“Oh,” YN replies in surprise, looking behind her at the shelves only to see syrups for flavoring but no actual liquor bottles or draft taps to be seen, “A sprite?”

“Water, please,” Arthur adds as he rubs YN’s thigh, squeezing it in reassurance, “I forgot to tell you. No alcohol here. Everybody needs to be sober when playing.”

“That makes sense,” YN hums in agreement, never having actually thought about it much, but it could definitely get cloudy on consent when alcohol was being consumed in regards to playing which was a dangerous and unsafe mixture.

They sit, observed for a few minutes before a few people begin to flock towards them, greeting them and asking surface level questions until there’s a deep, almost eerie chime that echoes for a long moment through the club over the soft jazz.

It was signifying that the clock had struck ten.

Everyone quickly wraps up their conversations before moving to different areas of the rooms, some disappearing down hallways.

The atmosphere had changed significantly in a very quick spurt of time as people started undressing, kissing, moving as if they’d just gotten permission.

There was a couple of the couch across the room that Athur and YN were observing from their barstools.

The two started out slow, sensual, like any normal couple behind close doors but when the woman knots her hair into her partner’s hair and demands his mouth move lower, he obliges and Arthur gasps softly at the roughness displayed.

YN’s been aroused for the last five minutes of watching them but doesn’t make an effort to act on it, not yet atleast, and once the couple move so that the man is laying on the couch, the woman kneeling over his face, it changes her vantage point but it catches on something else.

In the corner, further back into the room, there was a man sitting in the corner where there was barely any lighting, dim and his goal was to obviously stay in the background.

No one was approaching him nor was he interacting with anyone else.

YN knew there was a no phone policy but this man was sat, scrolling boredly through his phone and only occasionally glancing up to observe the people in action around him before eyes dart back down like it wasn’t entertaining at all.

He wasn’t aroused, at least from what YN could see, and he was in a tight, well-fitted suit but his dress shirt was barely buttoned, open enough to show the definition of his pectoral muscles, the sharpness of his collarbones, and a variety of darkly inked tattoos.

He was fucking beautiful.

YN realizes she oogling him but can get away with it because it appears to Arthur that she’s still watching the couple like he is.

However, when the man looks up after a few moments once again, his eyes are instantly locked on YN.

She can’t tell what color they are from here but she knows they’re light, twinkling under the barely there light of a sconce on the wall and it’s smouldering as he doesn’t blink nor waver with embarrassment of being caught staring at her.

YN quickly diverted her eyes back to the couple, her heart was pounding, and a sense of thrill shot up her spine even though it was inappropriate.

She wasn’t here for new partners.

She was here to learn and explore with her own.

YN tries to play it casual when Raven refills the drink she nervously chugged, “Why does that guy have his phone?”

Raven’s eyes darted to the man before grinning, “That’s Harry. He’s the owner, my boss. He supervises the free play.”

“Free play?”

“Out in the common area, it’s considered free play. If you claim a room, you are in private play with whatever partners you bring back there. Harry just makes sure everything stays safe and consensual out here. He gets bored though and plays Candy Crush on his phone.”

YN cracks her own smile at that, trying to imagine the man trying to get rid of sugary sweets and getting frustrated when he loses a round.

“Does he not play?” Arthur asks curiously, now his attention has changed to Harry as well.

“Not often,” Raven informs them, leaning her elbow on the counter, “I can’t remember the last time he did. I’d say at least seven years ago, at least in the free play but he doesn’t reserve rooms or anything. He made it clear that he doesn’t find at least any of the current members interesting enough to engage with.”

“That’s interesting, considering he must have an interest in it, if this is his club,” Arthur replies to Raven before turning back to the scene of the couple, another member had joined the couple and was currently giving the male some startling rough looking bruised kisses and bites to his stomach and thighs.

Arthur was getting aroused by the look and feel of it, he reached over and brazenly took her hand, and led her to his groin where he was hard in his trousers, encouraging her to palm over him which she did as she tried to get into it.

This…This atmosphere, these people, they excited her.

Arthur still did not.

They manage to get to a couch, Arthur appears to be getting so turned on that foreplay isn’t in his realm of ideas because he’s hiking up YN’s dress around her hips and positioning her on top of him which is a new position (in all six years they’ve never done cowgirl) but still, her arousal is barely boiling above surface level.

YN licks her palm, reaching down to help moisten herself because Arthur was not doing anything to spark her to get wet.

It was actually making her more distressed that despite the scenario, she still didn’t feel the connection to her fiancé.

When she slides down, it’s fine, he was an average size so even without much lubrication, it didn’t feel like a stretch or burn when she started to move her hips but it wasn’t as pleasant as if she was sopping, dripping down her thighs.

Arthur glances to the side at one point, noticing that the male from the throuple was now pounding into the original partner with his had tight around her throat, pushing her further into the couch without mercy as she tried to whine through stutter breaths.

YN felt like she was being watched the entire time, which of course she was being watched by other members but it felt different, when she blinks around and notices that Harry has his gaze honed in on her with a twisted scowl of almost disapproval, it confuses her.

However, she’s brought back into the moment when Arthur pants out, “Can- I want to try that.”

When YN follows his gaze, he’s referring to the choking, and yeah, maybe that will light that match.

“Okay, yeah,” YN agrees as she brushes her hair off of her shoulders, wishing he would have taken this dress off of her instead of shoving it upwards where it felt confining.

Arthur smiles at her, leaning up to give her a chaste kiss which didn’t match their situation whatsoever that they were in at the moment.

YN was feeling anxious about the judgment other members might put onto them but not because she cared that people watched but because she knew Arthur and her were nowhere nearly as fluid, practiced, or elegant as the other members whom seemed to just melt into one another easily.

Arthur had never tried it before but his hand came up to her throat, he’s getting close to his own release which means that he’s not as focused, eyes getting a glazed over appearance.

YN soon realizes that he has no idea what he’s doing as he begins to cut off her airway by cupping her throat in the center instead of at the sides.

It hurts, she can’t breathe but not the way that feels tingly, excited, it feels like he could quite possibly suffocate her because of his carelessness.

They had talked about proper methods and he clearly hadn’t retained that information.

A few black dots begin to dance across her line of vision and her body starts to trigger a flight or fight response which she wants to use her safe word but she can’t speak.

YN takes to dig her nails into his hand but he doesn’t seem to understand that it’s not out of lust.

A true fear begins to take hold that something horrible will happen to her in less than a minute.

He’s truly going to injure her.

YN is in a full-fledged panic induced state.

Then suddenly, without warning, a strong arm is being wrapped around her middle and a big, ring-clad hand grips Arthur where it was around her neck so hard he yelps in pain and releases his grip.

The person is physically lifting YN off of Arthur’s lap, trying to steady her on her feet but they feel like jello and she feels light-headed, the room wouldn’t stop spinning.

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” The person’s voice is deep, raspy, and incredibly pissed off, “What the fuck is your problem?”

YN can’t even bring herself to look at Arthur right now, her full support into Harry’s side as she notices the two securities guards walking in.

“C’mon, let me sit you down. You’re okay but I want to check you out, alright? Yeah, c’mon, pet,” He encourages in a much softer tone, gentle and trying to comfort me as she struggles to catch her breath.

It takes a long second to realize that she’s crying, tears streaming down her cheeks, and fuck, she is so embarassed as every other member had stopped playing.

“We’re done for the night. We’ll re-open tomorrow at the normal hours of operation,” Harry announces to the room at large before looking to Raven, “Go close down the private rooms.”

Raven nods, no longer as smiley and bubbling but an expression of concern as she watches what’s going on with YN.

“Hey, darling. Can you tilt your head up?” Harry asks quietly once he sits her down in the same corner that he had been in, away from the group.

YN whines because her neck is aching, she doesn’t want to do anything as the drop in adrenaline has made her more exhausted than she’s felt in a long time.

“I know, I know,” Harry simpers in an unpredictably cooing tone, he taps his thumb on her chin to signal her to tilt it up and she obliges.

Harry prods gently at her neck, focusing on the center where the pressure has been, “Any sharp pains? Anything feel off or wrong like you need to go to the hospital?”

YN shakes her head, a fresh round of tears.

She knew that she wasn’t injured or seriously hurt.

YN felt more traumatized mentally than anything else.

“I need words, want to hear your pretty voice,” Harry orders in a honey sweet tone, eyes hyper-focused on her like they were in the beginning of the night.

His eyes were green.

Close to the accent color of the club.

“I’m okay,” YN manages to speak out, throat dry and scratchy.

Raven appears with a glass of water to hand to Harry before giving them their space again.

YN is about to reach for the glass but Harry is already moving it towards her lips for her, “Drink f’me.”

It’s strangely intimate as he tilts the glass, eyes watching her carefully and a sense of guilt sets in that she likes that Harry is tending to her, giving her his full attention.

“Is this a common occurrence? Between you two?”Harry doesn’t sound as kind anymore, his jaw muscle twitches slightly.

“Um, no. We came here to explore. I’m very much into this world and he isn’t. He’s told me he’s done his research in his free time but -“

“You’re telling me that you’ve never negotiated nor tried something like this and he full fledge tries choking?” Harry interrupts, outraged from where he stands up from squatting in front of her, “Did you ask or plan for that?”

YN shakes her head, a bit embarrassed that she was coming off as an amateur to someone…she felt an attraction to, felt intimidated by, and Arthur had ruined their experience here.

“No. We tried spanking a few times but he backed out. We were just supposed to come here to watch others so he could visual what all this looked like before putting it into action-“

Harry doesn’t let her finish as he storms away from her, his glare set right on Arthur who was sheepishly sitting back at the bar and nursing a drink as Raven talked to him.

YN’s heart rate starts to rise again when Arthur tenses, clearly being chewed out by Harry before her fiancé gets off his barstool and follows the club owners lead down the hallway.

YN rushes to the bar, Raven is already pouring her another sprite, “Calm down. He’s not going to hurt him or anything. They just need to have a discussion on whether or not Harry will revoke his membership.”

It feels ruined and it never even started.

All she can think about is that despite for a short amount of time she was getting what she asked from Arthur, there was still no god damn spark.

After a good half hour, the bar phone rings and Raven answers, murmuring a few words back into the receiver before having up.

“I’m going to take you back to his office now.”

Harry’s office was just as luxe, elegant as the rest of the club.

It was tense as soon as she stepped in the room and Raven left, closing the door behind her.

“I’ve decided not to revoke your joint membership after discussion with Arthur. However, there are contingencies if you would like to continue coming here. Are you willing to hear them? Arthur has already agreed to the terms.”

YN nods slowly, voice soft, “Yes.”

Harry keeps his face on her as he speaks, “I do not tolerate what happened here tonight in my club. Arthur has clearly proven that he isn’t educated enough to be able to have free access to the club and free play.”

“If you want to continue membership, Arthur will need to reserve a private room and lessons will be held until he fully grasps the concepts, displays understanding, and can play safely without supervision.”

“Who…Do you have instructors?” YN doesn’t think she wants another man involved in their sex life even in an educational aspect.

“Yes but I will be teaching the lessons,” Harry informs her, calm as ever, “I bring this up because I would need to be hands on, to demonstrate and display certain practice, power play dynamics but that is a lot to ask as I do not know your limits on sharing.”

YN’s speaking before she even realizes it, “Yes. We can do that.”

Harry’s lip quirks slightly before it disappears but it oddly enough seems like a reward.

“We can schedule. I will send the paperwork. I already have your questionnaires about hard limits, likes, dislikes, and willing to try. I want to make this clear, this will be purely educational and there will be no dynamic developing between me and you two.”

YN nods dumbly, at a loss for words because the mere thought of Harry domming her was a lick of a flame that she’d been missing so much.

“I will dom you with instructions interwoven for Arthur. We will try to keep everything minimal as I cannot stress enough that this is not anything but informative on my end to help improve your sex life as a couple.”

Three longs weeks pass before their first ‘lesson’.

Arthur voiced excitement about the instruction, never brought up the choking incident again, and never initiated any type of sex during this time either.

Everything was swept under the rug as usual in their relationship.

YN would never admit the fact that she had gotten herself off to the mere idea of Harry domming her because something about him had triggered something carnal, something near feral in her.

It’s more than she had even felt with Klein.

She knew it wouldn’t last forever but she was going to enjoy this to the best of her abilities.

YN only had excited nerves going into the night.

Harry had inquired more in the break of time about YN’s experience and was extremely pleased to realize that she wasn’t as much of a novice as he assumed.

Though she hadn’t experienced many partners or relationships within the community, her knowledge was expansive and deep enough to impress him.

Harry had texted her back with a simple message that had her core tingling enough that she had to rub her thighs together.

YN: Thank you for continuously checking in on my comfort and experience regarding these situations. I have many more concerns for Arthur as we’ve already discussed. If you have any more questions, feel free to ask!

Harry Styles: I do not plan to go easy on you. Unless you specifically want soft play for these experiences. I can be a softer dominant but my main modality is firm, mean, regimented with softer aftercare.

YN: You don’t scare me. ;)

She was already being bratty with him.

It sent a wave of good nerves through her as she waited for a reply to be sent to her inbox.

Harry Styles: It’s interesting that you’ve already started to decide to be bad for me when you don’t even know what I’m capable of, darling.

YN : I’m shaking.

YN: Terrified.

Harry Styles: I wish I could wrap my fingers around your throat right now. Show your fiancé the proper way to choke a god damn brat.

YN could feel herself pooling with arousal.

It felt a bit wrong but she reasoned enough with herself that it was all for the greater good of her relationship with Arthur but deep down she knew that was bullshit.

YN: You’re probably not much better.

Harry Styles: Quite honestly, haven’t worked with such a fucking disobedient bitch in a long time. I cannot wait to break you. A kitten who thinks they’re a big bad tiger.

YN: Fuck you.

Harry Styles: Kitty’s got claws.

Harry Styles: For now…

It felt bordering on inappropriate but YN reasoned again that Harry had made it clear that there isn’t anything happening, it is a strictly professional as a type of situation like this can be.

Saturday has come and YN wakes up to a text.

Harry Styles: Better wear something cute enough that I find you interesting enough to play with. Even if it’s just to teach.

YN rereads the message quite a few times and why is he so good at getting under her skin and she doesn’t even know him yet but it’s like he knows exactly how to wind her up.

YN: Black dress with tights.

Harry Styles: It’s good to know that you’re just another basic bitch.

YN: What will you be wearing then?

Harry Styles: That’s none of your fucking business. I call the shots, kitty. Not you.

YN: 🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕

Harry Styles: Good to know. Five spanks for the five emojis. Would you like to keep going?

She can’t even help herself

YN: 🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕

Harry Styles: Noted.

YN wants to reply, knowing he’s probably waiting but a tiny sliver of guilt starts to creep in when she thinks about Arthur because though she’s trying to convince herself this is perfectly fine.

It’s not.

Not with the emotions it makes her feel.

She hasn’t felt them in so long.

It scares her.

“Sweetie pie, are you having second thoughts? Should be getting ready,” Arthur steps out of the walk-in closet, adjusting the sleeve of his button up.

“No!” YN replies much too quickly, her tone high pitch, “Um, I lost track of time. I’ll get ready now.”

“Okay, I’m excited for this new experience with you,” He smiles sweetly, stepping over to press a kiss to her forehead.

It’s affectionate, loving, and she’s still thinking of other things than her fiancé.

YN decides on a black wide leg trouser with a corseted bodysuit that gave her tits the perfect push-up, she’s spray a very thin most of body glitter on her chest, she knew it would sparkle in the dim lighting.

She considered wearing the dress and tights to spite him but whatever, she’d be less easy access for him.

Arthur held her hand tightly as they entered The Body Factory.

YN was already searching for Harry, barely waving to Raven as Arthur leads them over but she doesn’t want a drink, she wants to play.

However her fiancé guide her to a stool, ordering for both of them as Raven has a look of curiosity as she slides them in front of him.

“Does he come out and get us?” Arthur asks Raven, looking around he doesn’t see him either.

Raven bites her lip, shaking her head with a chuckle, “No, I take you to your reserved room when ten hits.”

“What is it?” YN asks, unable to read what is going on the bartender's mind.

This conversation didn’t seem particularly funny.

“Nothing really. Harry just hasn’t offered private lessons for at least eight or nine years. Normally when couples have an incident like you did, Harry revoked their memberships without a second thought,” Raven informs them as she picks at a spot on the smooth surface of the bar absentmindedly.

“Why us?” YN wonders out loud, why after all that time did he make an exception.

“I wish I knew,” The bartender shrugs neutrally.

The deep chime rings out about forty-five minutes later.

YN cannot decipher whether she wants to throw up or jump up and down with excitement.

Especially when Raven guides them down a long hallway, then into another corridor until they reach a door with a sign that warns, “No members past this point. Private access only.”

“Um-“ Arthur goes to point out the sign, he was a rule follower to his core.

“It’s Harry’s private playroom that members can’t use but again, this is special circumstances,” Raven’s voice is hushed as she leads them into a surprisingly minimal room.

There were cabinets built sleekly into the walls where all toys and accessories must be held, a matte black.

Everything matched but there was a bigger prominence of the green accents that were more subtle in the main areas.

The play bench hardware matches everything else but the cushion is a luxe emerald.

The bed was…unlike anything she had ever seen.

It was massive but fit well in the spacious room.

High posts on all four corners with subtle hooks to place restraints in.

The mattress looked fluffy and giving, it looked as if the sheets were a black silk but the duvet was a very muted pattern of black and green diamonds.

YN was in love with space.

It was so much more than she was expecting.

“Holy shit,” Arthur gapes at the elegance, clearly he had been expecting something different too.

“Okay, when Harry comes in, he will already be in the dom headspace and so he wants me to give you reminders. Harry will respect your hard limits as he’s reviewed them before the session. You have received a list of his so please do the same.”

“Just as you can safeword out at any time without consequences, Harry can as well. He will use the same ‘red’ if need be and will check your colors throughout to ensure safe play.”

“For this first lesson, Arthur you will sit and observe. Harry will display a safe, typical scene of play to understand what that looks like with whatever kind of submissive YN is. You may also use your safeword at any time to stop the play.”

YN swallows because would he allow that?

Surprisingly, Arthur’s face is still clear and happy as he starts to walk over to an overstuffed chair in the corner of the room and smiles at YN, “Can’t wait.”

YN raises a shocked eyebrow at his willingness but nods at Raven to show she understands.

They’re silent as they wait for Harry.

She wasn’t given instruction and because she was a bit nervous, she perched herself on Arthur’s lap as he rubbed her thigh and kissed her shoulder blades occasionally.

Then there’s a shuffle outside the door, the door knob twisting and the door opening.

Harry looked ethereal.

He wasn’t wearing a tailored suit like before but leather boots with a bit of a heel, form-fitting jeans that make his lean quads look biteable, and a plain black shirt.

His arms had even more beautiful ink than YN realized.

After Harry closes the door, his eyes lock on hers, not even acknowledging her fiancé’s presence.

“Stand up,” Harry orders loudly, a bit startling.

YN obeys instantly, her heart was pounding in her eardrums like waves of the choppy ocean.

A cruel smirk tilts on his lips when he scans her up and down.

“Did I strike a nerve, pet? This isn’t a black dress and tights. Are you already starting off so insecure? And you think you can handle me. What a cute, pathetic little kitten,” His voice is venomous, steady, and she’s clinging onto every word.

Arthur’s clearly confused but stays silent.

“I’m not pathetic,” YN argues shakily, it felt dangerous to get bratty so soon but it was her submissive profile and character, it came naturally.

Harry quirks a brow, “Sir.”

YN gives him her own confused look.

“I’m not pathetic, sir. Every time you speak, try again.”

“I’m not pathetic,” YN bleats easily, a flutter of her eyelashes.

Harry smiles like a goddamn wolf.

“Oh, you’re not? Let’s test that theory,” Harry draws as he takes a few steps backwards, towards the door, “Come to me.”

YN stands up, on wobbly legs, and begins to but is stopped in her tracks by his hard voice.

“Hands and knees. Crawl for me, I want to show your fiancé how pathetic you are for me,” Harry has a humor, an evil sense of it.

YN drops to her hands and knees, nearly panting already, and begins to move.

summary of triggering scene: YN’s fiance chokes her and though it’s completely consensual he doesn’t know what he’s doing and almost hurts her. YN cannot safeword out at the time but harry stops the scene.

#harry styles writing #harry styles #harry styles masterlist #harrystyles #harry styles boyfriend #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fic #harry styles one shot #harry smut #harry styles fanfic #harrystylesfanfic #fan fic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles au #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #patreon

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five-thousand-loaves-of-bread · 20 days

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US food & drug administration (FDA) proposing ban on electric shock devices (like ones used by places like judge rotenberg center [JRC]) for self injurious behaviors or behaviors deemed aggressive.

was banned before, then was overturned. now propose new ban.

can submit formal comment here:

which. if can, please do. show FDA that there public support for ban.

not see if say only US people can comment.

edit to add: open until may 28th 2024

put under cut, some trigger warning about badly summarized info abt these devices & JRC

these devices different from modern ECT. modern ECT done under general anesthesia. these devices. ECT not without faults but these devices not same as ECT.

while there truly are behaviors in disabilities like autism that genuine cause harm to self or others, 1) using this shock device for those behaviors without consent or try other methods or think about underlying why, still issue, 2) many times used for behaviors that. staff just don’t like. like saying no. or refuse take off coat.

there videos online.

but let just say. GED-4, used by JRC (at very minimum used, past tense. not sure what model use now, but definitely still used. & still being defended on JRC website), shock for 2 seconds, lowest setting, shock at 45mA, highest at 90. don’t know what means? me neither, but to compare, tasers 3-4 mA. n frequently see survivors say they get more than 1 shocks. people shocked by these scream. put it lightly

old stuff wrote by survivor:

often see people only talk abt autism when talk abt JRC & these devices. not just autism. those diagnosed w conduct disorders, psychiatric disorders, autism, intellectual disability, & imagine other developmental disorders too.

though. need lower support needs autistic people & late diagnose autistic people decenter themselves on this. you all not typical target demographic for this. you not most affected here.

because. going be early diagnosed & visibly disabled & higher support needs people most affected.

also. majority people in JRC BIPOC. one old statistic say 50% Black people.

majority of these. are children.

& most these ugly facts & statistics not going be on JRC website. they going make everything pretty & appealing & downplay. & defend use of shock device on website

had to look through JRC website for this. just for my sacrifice please go fill out comment for FDA. link again: https://www.federalregister.gov/documents/2024/03/26/2024-06037/banned-devices-proposal-to-ban-electrical-stimulation-devices-for-self-injurious-or-aggressive

#loaf screm #actually autistic #stop the shock #actually neurodivergent #neurodivergent #autism #autistic

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haveyouheardthisband · 6 months

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『 FAQ 』

USEFUL LINKS: Submissions spreadsheet (gigantic list of every band submission we've received. Song submissions are on the second tab. If this does not load on your device, you can view a plaintext archive here.) Data spreadsheet (List of every band that we've posted or are still in the queue, in order, plus occasionally-updated data for finished polls.) Song submissions form (Suggest a noteworthy song for a band that's already been submitted but not yet posted. First-come first-serve. These are linked in a readmore under the band's poll.)

⏭ Y'all made a mistake! / How do I get in touch? Please scroll to read the whole FAQ first. If your question has not already been answered, then send an ask. We don't respond to most asks publicly, but we do read them all. We do not often check replies or mentions. Do NOT send band suggestions via the askbox, it is for correspondence only. (If the question/comment concerns a specific post, you can also ping me @estradasphere in a reply, but asks are preferred)

───♫───────────── ⏭ Why was this poll tagged with [x]? Genres are usually from the artist's RateYourMusic page, if they have one. Country tags are also from RYM - we tag both formed/birth location and disbanded/death location. As for decades, we do not usually tag all decades a band was active for, just a few that contain their most popular output. If we get any of these wrong, please send an ask!

───♫───────────── ⏭ Why was this album art used? If the artist has an RYM page, the album art we use is of their most-rated album on there. If they don't, we use Spotify or Bandcamp or other sources. We tend to avoid album art that depicts potentially triggering subjects.

───♫───────────── ⏭ This artist is morally reprehensible! We do not endorse or support any artists posted here. We're asking if you've heard them, not if you like them - and doing a background check on every submission is infeasible. You are free to warn others via reply, reblog, etc. That being said, we may reject submissions at our own discretion.

───♫───────────── ⏭ Can you add a "yes, unfortunately" option? No, and we don't think this is the best perspective to have. Every band is someone's favorite! We are not intent on changing the three options we have now.

───♫───────────── ⏭ Can you post more/less of [x] genre? We run entirely off of submissions, and go through those mostly in chronological order. We do not control which bands get submitted. That being said, we do try to space out polls in the queue if there's a lot of submissions of the same genre/vibe in a row.

───♫───────────── ⏭ When will band submissions reopen? If/when we get through the bulk of the current submissions. Our backlog is so massive that this may not happen until 2026 (at the latest) though. Sorry!

───♫───────────── ⏭ When will my submission be posted? You can check our progress by looking at the submissions spreadsheet. Finished submissions are the ones highlighted turquoise. Keep in mind that we post once per hour, and you can probably estimate the date from there.

───♫───────────── ⏭ Why didn't my submissions post in the order I submitted them? We rearrange the queue if there's a lot of bands of the same genre/vibe submitted in a row. Or for no reason.

───♫───────────── ⏭ Why didn't my submission get posted at all? A few reasons this could happen:

Your band is still in the queue, just not in order (see the question above this one)

Your band has been submitted before (search the blog or the data sheet for them)

Your band is so obscure we couldn't find album art or genre info for them

We genuinely made a mistake: thought we did them already, or accidentally skipped them, etc.

Feel free to submit them again (though, if possible, please first search the suggestions spreadsheet to make sure nobody else has submitted them again already). If you're positive your submission got skipped, you can also send an off-anon ask or DM a mod, and we'll post a poll for them ASAP if the submission is valid. Accidents happen.

───♫───────────── ⏭ How do I suggest songs for multiple-artist submissions? See here and here.

───♫───────────── ⏭ What's the policy on vulgar/offensive band names or album art? Generally OK, but it'll be decided at our own discretion. In the case of album art, we try to find one of the artist's other works at around the same popularity, and if we can't, we'll trigger tag it.

───♫───────────── ⏭ Why don't you tag polls with the band names? Tagging it would put the post in the lap of every fan who follows or searches for the tag. For popular bands, we feel this would skew the results too much.

───♫───────────── ⏭ Can you trigger tag [x]? We currently tag common triggers like gore, nudity, body horror, and suicide (as "#____ tw"); if we missed a post with one of those, please let us know! As for implementing new trigger tags, sorry, we have enough on our plate at the moment and probably wouldn't remember it. We recommend using Xkit Rewritten's post block feature and/or Tumblr's built-in tag/content filtering.

───♫───────────── ⏭ Have y'all considered increasing the post speed to more than 1 per hour? We don't really want to, sorry! Making 24 posts per day to keep pace is enough work for us already, haha.

───♫───────────── ⏭ How many posts are in the queue? It's maintained at around 150-250.

───♫───────────── ⏭ Do y'all want/need another mod? Not right now. If we ever do, we'll make a post for it.

#faq written by rottel and formatted by eddie!#talk #Last updated Apr 9 2024

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convolutedblasphemy · 2 months

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If your activism against purity culture involves dunking on people with triggers, labeling optional filters for NSFW content as censorship, deliberately posting triggering shit without warnings or tags to "show them puritans", being hostile to people for politely asking whether you could tag / label something or put it under a readmore, demanding every sex-repulsed person makes it clear to you that they don't hate you for how you live out your sexuality, advocating against SFW spaces for adults or trying to bring NSFW into these spaces, you're not fighting against censorship; you're being ableist, aphobic and just generally a dickhead. Making sure public spaces online and offline are accessible for people with more boundaries than you is not oppression, it's accomodation. Cultivating your online experience also means giving other people the choice to do the same. Sex-repulsed aces and people with sex-related triggers aren't your fucking enemy, so stop antagonizing us. Hope this helps. 👍🏻

#asexual #ace #sex repulsed #asexuality #censorship #anti censorship #purity culture

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eciinnacat · 6 months

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SURVIVE

[Part 1 page 6]

Tag warnings for the comic and links under Readmore:

I made this comic to challenge myself, also I just wanted to put my favorite characters in tragic situations :)

If you want to avoid pages with graphic material the tag is:

#trigger warning

If you want to avoid the story entirely:

#SSS AU Survive

This fancomic is also available read both Twitter and DeviantArt.

#SSS AU Survive #silver the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #ivo robotnik

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sprout-fics · 6 months

Note

Good morning beautiful friend! Let me tell you, I went through and read every. single. thing. on your master list over the last week or so, and holy guacamole am I obsessed! You write so eloquently ❤️ All of these amazing writers (your lovely self included of course) inspired me to start posting my own writing. I wanted to ask if you had any tips on getting started? Where do I start? What's the best way to get my work viewed, what's the best way to tag stuff? Any other tips? I have some projects I've been working on, but I wanted to ask a few people for some tips before I posted anything. I'll appreciate anything you have to offer. Hope you're having the most amazing day. You deserve someone bringing you surprise flowers, no traffic on your way home, and a lovely breeze to keep you cool 😘

Hello dear! Thank you so much for your lovely ask! I’m so glad you’re enjoying my works, and thank you for reaching out! I’ve written a few posts on writing advice so far, but I’m happy to share more. Here’s some stuff I’ve written already:

Characterization for Characters

General Fandom Writing Advice

How To Conquer Writer’s Block

And here’s a few other posts by some other folks I’ve found helpful:

Writing Inclusively

Writing for Fun

In terms of getting started, here’s some general advice:

Write the stories you want to write. I’ve said this before but I cannot emphasize it enough. I’ve seen so many writer’s get burnt out by chasing trends and changing tastes of their followers, and as a result neglect the stories that are important to them. The best works are the ones that come straight from your heart, and your own personal passions. Ignore fandom trends and stay true to your own inspirations.

Curate your own space. This means creating a blog for your writing, figuring out what you do and do not want on it, who you do and do not want to engage with, and making sure these boundaries are clear to others. A great way to do this is through an FAQ or about post. I have mine linked in my masterlist if you’d like to take a look.

Additionally- find other authors and writers you enjoy, and try to make friends! It helps to have someone to share hobbies and ideas with. Whenever I’m running short of inspiration, I often approach my other writer friends to run an idea by them, and it is extremely helpful. Finding your own community is key.

Tag appropriately. Know common triggers, and be open to folks asking you to tag stuff you perhaps forgot to mention. Some common stuff includes sexual assault, noncon, major character death, specific traumas, self harm, etc. This helps folks filter the stuff they do not wish to see from you.

Use readmore/keep reading. I try to keep my posts pretty short, giving the tags, warnings, summary, header, and a brief intro to the piece. It’s common courtesy to shorten long posts to avoid making others scroll past over 500 words. (I often dismiss fics if they break this rule, and I’m certain others do the same)

Know what to tag and not tag to get your works seen. One thing I’ve noticed about he x reader side of fandoms is that they will spam the main tags, when a lot of folks are not looking for x reader fics. I’ve stopped posting any x reader content in the mw2/cod mw2/modern warfare/mwII tags, or if I do I always include an ‘x reader’ disclaimer so folks can filter it out

Also, in terms of tags, tag only the characters included in your writing. It doesn’t happen often, but I do see folks making a fic and then tagging it as every character under the sun to get it seen. Do not do this. It is spam.

That being said, there’s a bunch of ways to get your works seen. Taking up ideas from other folks (with permission) about headcanons, participating in writing challenges (@glitterypirateduck has a FANTASTIC few writing challenges, and more to come from what I can tell) and simply tagging your works so folks can find them is a great way to get started. Also, feel free to open requests as well. I find a lot of inspiration in folks coming to me with ideas they’d like to see written.

It helps to make your works visually attractive. I spend a lot of time on headers and creating banners for my works. It’s a lot of fun! It also helps you develop a good eye for visual design, which is a useful skill in general. If you are making banners, remember to request permission from artists if you are to use their art in your designs, and respect their wishes if they say no. Also, don’t just find art from Pinterest and include it. Try to find the source and ask there.

Finally, have fun! Writing fic shouldn’t be an obligation, it should be a joy and a gift. If you aren’t having fun, what’s the point?

I know this set of advice is a little scattered, but I hope you found it helpful! Feel free to ask more questions if you’d like. I might come out with some writing tips I’ve found helpful for my own particular style, as well as a guide to some common writing tools/programs/resources I currently use, and have used in the past. I hope this helped!

#writing advice #writing resources #writing tips #writing help #Always happy to share advice! Thank you dear!#faq

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answrs · 11 months

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Readmores And You - A Really Great Tumblr Feature!

(this is technically directed at stuff I've seen in a specific tag because of the content of said tag makes it more likely to spoiler things, but it applies to anyone likely learning the ins and outs of a new site. speaking of which, hello! welcome to tumblr!) (this got. longer than anticipated. apologies, I get bogged down in trying to make things as clear as possible. ^^")

I've seen this a lot recently in the VC tags especially, where the post goes something to the effect of "tw bloody animal!" then like six periods and the images of whatever dead thing the post is about.

I recognize this is probably being carried over from some other website (...reddit probably? maybe insta?) but please. I appreciate y'all so much for trying to do what you're doing. but this method of hiding pictures isn't effective on tumblr, but there is an infinitely better option!

"but why? it works fine on other sites?" firstly, a few extra lines typically don't even take up enough space on mobile (let alone desktop) to hide your pics, so even at a glance anyone is likely still seeing at least the top half of whichever picture you posted before even noticing the trigger warning on top. second, because you have to scroll all the way past the images at the bottom of your post anyway to get to the next one on your dash/in the tag/etc. so if someone comes across your post and the trigger warning is applicable as something they want to avoid, unless they have access to a keyboard to use a keybind shortcut that ive been here 12 years and still cant remember, they can't see any other posts after it without either having to scroll through the pics or outright block you. which is... not the most ideal of options I would say.

"but what else am I supposed to do then!?" I hear you ask.

READMORES!

tumblr has a wonderful feature known as a "readmore" that's built into the site! it creates a break in your post, which hides any content - be it words, images, whatever - that you place underneath it, not showing it unless the person viewing it clicks on the words "keep reading" (formerly "read more" - hence the name :D).

Cool, how do I do that?

on mobile you can place one by tapping an empty line and clicking the grey squiggle icon from the selection that allow you to insert an image/vid/link

which will place a squiggly line into the post you're making:

(desktop uses the same icon, it's just in a more compact row of icons.)

you can drag it around after placing it too, just like photos. (note: mobile can get finicky with this and it's usually just easier to remove it -click the big red X- and add it in the new place you want it.)

EDIT: some of the versions of mobile editor are broken and don't show the icons. to add it in manually type ":readmore:" (with the colons, but not the quotation marks) on its own line. Thank you for the reminder, LovingTogetic!

this is also a nice way to keep your blog tidy and not swamped in long and/or spoilery posts (say if you're posting 5k word fics, or extensive meta, or gushing over the ending of the latest game or TV show most people probably haven't seen yet)! it's not required, obviously, but it's generally considered a common courtesy for others that will be seeing your post cross their dashboard.

finally, an example of the readmore in action:

(ta-da!)

have fun out there y'all, I hope this is helpful ^^

as an aside (I wasn't sure where to put this but under the break seemed appropriate), you may also see a lot of personal/vent posts be fully under readmores as well, even if the post is only a sentence or two long. this is mostly so followers don't necessarily see it unless they specifically click, but there's a more frustrating history to it becoming a thing: when a post is reblogged, any content above the break is permanently frozen as it existed at the time, but anything under it will reflect edits made to the post. while not common, a certain type of user sometimes browse the various "do not rb" tags and will purposefully reblog personal posts in order to upset and distress the users. putting those things under a readmore make it so even if that happens, the text can be deleted from all iterations of the post. recently the site rolled out an option to lock a post to reblogs, but you gotta mess with the settings and it's mostly a habit after a decade here dealing with the nonsense.

#tumblr guide #hope it's okay to tag i'll remove if asked but #vulture culture #how to #tumblr how to #readmores #tumblr how-to

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rosanna-writer · 9 months

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we said hello and your eyes look like coming home (9/?)

Summary: A canon-divergent AU where the bond snaps for Rhys on Calanmai, Feyre unwittingly accepts it, and Fire Night magic proves to be more transformative than anyone bargained for. Feyre drags a mate she hardly knows out from Under the Mountain, then puts him back together as war with Hybern approaches. Warnings: dubious consent, canon-typical sexual violence, canon-typical violence Rating: Explicit Chapter Word Count: ~3.6k

I'm not quite sure how to tag a trigger warning for this, so just a note that in this chapter, Rhys uses his daemati ability to force someone to vomit.

Some dialogue and the riddle are taken directly from ACOTAR book one.

Read on AO3 or you can find the ninth chapter below the readmore.

ch. 1 - the altar is my hips | ch 2. - an arrowhead leading us home | ch. 3 - by the way, i just may like some explanations | ch. 4 - can't not think of all the cost | ch. 5 - honey i rose up from the dead | ch. 6 - this mad, mad love makes you come running | ch. 7 - therein lies the issue, friends don't try to trick you | ch. 8 - it's not his price to pay | ch. 9 - is it chill that you're in my head?

There was a note of anxiety mixed in with everything else that leaked through Rhys's shields this time. My own heart hammering seemingly in time with his and my stomach churning, I paced the cell and counted my steps in a vain attempt to occupy myself. I nearly ripped apart the pallet of hay just to have something to do with my hands. Wisely, the guards hadn't left me anything sharp, but I longed for a rock or something I could use to scrape artwork onto the wall and settle my mind.

Eventually, Rhys's side of the bond quieted, and I suspected he'd fallen asleep. It seemed cruel to wake him if Amarantha had wrung him out so thoroughly. I left him alone.

When the dungeon was this silent, I felt the echo of the stag's magic inside me more strongly. It hadn't faded the slightest bit since Calanmai. The few times I managed to stop worrying about Rhys, my thoughts drifted back to the new immortality I'd been left with. If I ever got out from Under the Mountain, I'd watch my family get old and die while I stayed looking exactly the same. The few decades I had left with them seemed impossibly long to me now, but in a few centuries, it would feel like the blink of an eye. Wrapping my mind around it was nearly enough to give me a headache.

When Nuala and Cerridwen appeared an hour later, I nearly wept with relief that I was finally getting a change of scenery. I might have gone mad otherwise.

Completely silent again, they brought me to the same bathing chamber and repeated the process of stripping me down and painting me, this time extending the paint all the way down to my fingertips. The twins couldn't possibly know it, but the paint would obscure the tattoo if the glamour failed. And again, I let them work.

But this time, the bundle of fabric they held out for me could barely be called a dress for completely new reasons. And I really, really wished Rhys had warned me better.

Thin panels of gauzy white fabric barely covered my breasts. They flowed into a single panel at the front and back of my legs, secured by a gold belt that didn't give me much confidence I'd stay covered if I moved the wrong way.

Nuala brushed makeup over my face as Cerridwen did my hair, coiling it around a gold diadem she placed on my head. I took deep breaths and tried to curb my rising panic as they worked. By the time they finished, I was nearly unrecognizable. Rhys had mentioned potentially dressing me up during our first conversation in my cell, so this didn't come as a complete surprise—it was not knowing the full details of what was happening that was eating at me.

"You look horrible in white."

The twins faded into the shadows as I turned to see Rhys leaning against the doorframe, hands in his pockets and his face twisted in disgust. He was so still and silent that I suspected he'd been watching me for a while.

I expected to see hunger as his eyes swept down my body and he took in all the exposed skin, but there was nothing but revulsion. I didn't mind; it was better than being leered at. And then I realized I'd only ever seen him slide his hands into his pockets when he was making a show of something.

I saw through the act—Rhys was nervous.

I just raised my brows, resisting the urge to cross my arms and attempt to cover myself. He'd seen all of it before anyway. "Should I take that to mean you weren't the one who picked this out?" I said, my voice sharp.

"I was. You looking horrible and making a mockery of your so-called virginity was the point." I bit back a retort that I could have figured that much out for myself and just waited for him to explain. He didn't seem the least bit frantic, which could only mean we weren't in a rush. He continued, "We're exploiting the loophole that you never had to be sober when you heard the riddle."

That explained the instruction not to drink anything that he didn't hand to me personally—I understood where he was going with this. "But you're not actually giving me anything stronger than water?" Somehow, the words came out calm and not like the desperate plea for reassurance they were.

"Precisely," Rhys said, and I let his apparent confidence steady me. It might have been an act, but it was a good one. "The evening's entertainment will be humiliating the drunk human. Amarantha will taunt you, saying it's such a shame you can't handle faerie wine because the riddle was so simple. I couldn't see another way she'd give you something easy."

The revealing dress made it obvious enough what sort of humiliation was in store for me. I'd force myself through it if it meant another shot at the riddle—I could guess what it had cost Rhys to change Amarantha's mind so quickly, and I wouldn't let that go to waste.

There was just one problem. "Rhys, I— I've never actually been drunk before," I said, cheeks burning.

His eyes went wide with shock, and he swore under his breath. Perhaps I'd said the one thing that could shred his cool demeanor to ribbons. "How old are you, Feyre?"

"Nineteen." I still didn't quite know him well enough to read all the emotions that crossed his face in quick succession, but now really wasn't the time to discuss this in detail. We had work to do. "But that doesn't matter, I'll be able to pretend. I just might need a bit of help."

He took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly gathering himself before looking at me again. "I won't let you fail."

I considered that for a moment, wondering if it was just reassurance or there was something else he was getting at. "If the performance isn't convincing will you…step in?" It was vague, but I wasn't sure how exactly to ask.

"Step in?"

"Take over with your daemati abilities. Unless…the Night Court won't let you do that to me?"

Rhys stilled. Voice soft, he said, "You would trust me enough to do that?"

"Yes. Without hesitation." I thought it was obvious—if I didn't trust him, I wouldn't have been nearly so composed after being forced with no explanation into a dress that left me so bare and exposed.

His throat bobbed. He reached for me, then glanced at the paint on my body and dropped his hand, as if thinking better of smearing it. "I thought you might hate me for planning this without asking. I wanted to explain, but she was….demanding last night. I managed to steer the conversation back to the riddle, and I took the opportunity while it was there."

If he'd done the opposite—given up a potential advantage to spare my feelings—I might actually have hated him. Flinching away from hard choices would damn us all.

"I can handle anything as long as you're on my side."

"You shouldn't have to."

I felt myself tense up—that was a dangerous line of thinking, and one I was too familiar with. For a moment, it was as if I was back in the cabin, slinging a quiver over my shoulder even though I shouldn't have to be the one to feed my family. My hands seemed to curl into fists of their own accord.

We would not fall into that particular trap today.

"You didn't answer my question. Will you be able to take over if I need you to?"

Something in my voice made Rhys stand a little straighter, and I caught the briefest flash of the soldier he'd been centuries ago, before becoming High Lord. I'd never seen it before, but it seemed to be exactly what we needed from him to get through this.

"I will. Daemati abilities aren't connected to the Night Court."

It was exactly the answer I'd been hoping for, and a bit more of my nervousness faded. I even managed a smile. "Then let's solve a riddle and get home tonight."

I watched the smirk bloom on his face as he ceased to be the male I knew and became the Lord of Nightmares. The mask was firmly on as he purred, "The festivities await. Allow me the honor of escorting you."

I followed Rhys through the halls, walking close behind him but not touching. With him near, the mating bond seemed to uncoil again. Despite being about to enter a lion's den wearing nothing but scraps of too-sheer fabric, I hardly felt any fear.

It didn't keep me from shivering in the cold, though.

My feet were half-frozen from the stone floor, but I gritted my teeth and waited for them to go numb. It was better this way—no one would think I could possibly be a threat if I couldn't run. I just kept my hands at my sides and attempted to look as unbothered as I could. As we passed through the doors, I opened a crack in my shields for Rhys.

The same music from when I'd first arrived Under the Mountain was playing in the throne room again. It was as crowded as I'd ever seen it, though everyone gave Rhys—and by extension, me—a wide berth.

There was something satisfying about being the only one in Rhys's orbit, in a strange, instinctual way. It was probably just due to the mating bond, but I liked being the only one close enough to touch him in a crowded room. At the very least, it made all the gawking easier to ignore.

I followed him to the dais where Amarantha sat, Tamlin at her side as always. I half-listened as Rhys bowed and wished her a good evening, just watched Tamlin for a reaction again. He continued staring straight ahead as if he'd been turned to stone. Coward.

I schooled my features to look faintly bored as Amarantha took in the sight of me. She broke into a cold grin. "Rhysand, you must get your eye for fashion from your lowborn whore of a mother," she said.

I didn't fully understand the insult to his mother, but Rhys just inclined his head and said, "I'm flattered you think so." Polished as ever, he sounded as if it didn't bother him in the slightest. But I felt the truth of his rage through the bond.

"Feyre dear, turn around so we can appreciate the view from the back as well," Amarantha said, making a show of holding her hand out so the ring with Jurian's eye pointed at me. I bit back a retort about how kind it was of her to ensure that everyone here had an unobstructed view.

I stepped out from behind Rhys and did as she asked. He took advantage of the brief pause in the conversation to slip into my mind and answer the question he must have heard. She was an extraordinary seamstress.

When it became clear she wasn't getting much of a reaction from anyone, Amarantha dismissed us with a flick of her hand and an irritated, "Enjoy my party."

Rhys walked over to a table laden with food and drink, and I followed at his heels like a dog. The faeries that had been standing around it cleared out quickly. He reached for a bottle, seemingly at random, and filled a goblet.

"Wine?" he said, offering it to me. In my head, he added, It's safe. I shook my head anyway, trusting he understood I was just doing it for show. He pressed the goblet closer to me. When he spoke again, Rhys dropped his voice low in that way that had heat pooling in my lower abdomen, even though it was very much not the time for that. "Try it. I think you'll like it."

I gave him one wary look before snatching the goblet from him and chugging it. The liquid inside tasted of nothing but water. As I swallowed every last drop, I tried to ignore the chuckles of the faeries who were watching us. When I lowered the goblet, I wiped at my lips with the back of my hand. The smear of liquid from the goblet was dark red.

But my head was still perfectly clear.

I forced out a giggle that sounded nothing like me at all. It must have been convincing because there was a flicker of Rhys's approval down the bond as he poured another glass. But instead of passing it to me, he placed his free hand on my lower back.

I let him herd me towards a chair and perch me in his lap. It was a relief to finally get my feet off the cold floor, and more than anything I wanted to press every inch of skin to him I could, even if it was just to leech some warmth. I kept my back straight, shrinking from his touch, but it was so damned difficult not to give into the urge to do the opposite.

As much as I appreciate hearing those thoughts from you, please refrain from shouting them at me when we both need to concentrate.

Even in my head, his voice sounded a bit strained. I was seated too close to his knee to feel if he was hard or not, and before I could dwell too much on that particular line of thought, he was pressing the goblet to my lips again. I let him pour water down my throat until I'd drained all of it.

When he lowered the goblet, I took in the stares and the giggles from the partygoers. Amarantha was leaning over and whispering something to Tamlin, whose blank expression hadn't changed. I didn't want Tamlin to want me, but it enraged me to see no signs of remorse for starting the chain of events that led me being a plaything in his worst enemy's lap.

I held onto that anger as Rhys wrapped a possessive arm around my waist, let it help me look indignant instead of comfortable. I went stiff, and he chuckled in a way that sounded so utterly unlike him that I shivered.

But the discomfort I felt from his side of the bond was the farthest thing from amused.

Feyre. Amarantha wants to make you dance while you hear the riddle. Will you be able to? The music will pick up soon.

Rhys didn't need to specify what kind of dancing it was. I didn't hesitate to say, Yes.

His mind wrapped around mine again, just as it had when he'd forced me to lick his shoes. The apology didn't come in words, just another wave of feeling down the bond, wrapped up in his own sense of self-hatred for not preventing this and territorial anger at everyone leering at me.

I didn't blame him in the slightest.

The strange, otherworldly music got louder, and that was my cue. Rhys said something smug that was more for the benefit of the crowd than me, but I was so focused on keeping up appearances that I barely heard it.

I stood up, trying to look unsteady on my feet. Another spark of approval down the bond told me it was working. The increased stares made me flush deeper, which could only help make this convincing.

I turned to face Rhys as he spread his legs wide and leaned back in the chair. He tucked a hand behind his head, and the lazy smile on his face might have been the most obnoxious thing I'd ever seen in my life.

I pretended to stumble, reaching out and grabbing the top of the chair to steady myself in a way that pushed my breasts towards his face like an embarrassing accident. Rhys laughed, and others followed.

My focus narrowed to just his violet eyes, and everything else fell away. I canted my hips towards his and started to move, letting myself believe we were the only two people in the world. The mask on his face didn't slip, but I saw the truth of him under it.

His mind curled more tightly around mine. I didn't have words for what passed through the bond in that moment, but I could sense the way his entire being was poised to catch me if I fell. I might be the one dancing, but we were in this together.

Feyre, you look too coordinated. Move less in time with the music before they suspect something.

I adjusted as he said, and another flicker of relief down the bond let me know it was enough. The music was already off-kilter, distinctly faerie in a way that set me on edge. I wasn't sure how much longer I'd have to keep this up.

Do they expect me to vomit, Rhys?

Possibly.

Then use your abilities to make me. It will be suspicious if I don't.

Thank the Mother, Rhys didn't hesitate. His talons plunged deeper into me, taking complete control. I couldn't move of my own volition—breathing, blinking, and even the beating of my heart only happened exactly as he willed it.

I was an observer in my own body as he moved my legs in shaking steps around to the side of the chair. There was no nausea as invisible hands bent me over, just the burn of bile Rhys forced up from my stomach. I threw up on the floor.

Amarantha was saying something, but it was a struggle to focus on her words and not the sour taste left in my mouth. But as soon as the thought crossed my mind, the taste disappeared—also Rhys's doing. A few more wobbly footsteps, and I was standing between his legs again, facing the crowd.

She's getting ready to give you the riddle. I'll keep hold of your body so you can focus on what she's saying. Is that alright?

Yes. Thank you.

My ass jerked backwards towards his groin as I writhed again, clearly on display. A few faeries here and there looked faintly sick, but most seemed amused. Amarantha smiled right at me and said, "Don't let it be said I don't hold up my end of a bargain, Feyre. Here's the riddle I promised you." Her grin went wider than I'd ever seen it as she added, "It's a shame faerie wine is too strong for you to remember it tomorrow."

I cleared my mind, focusing and memorizing every word as she spoke, even as Rhys made my hips move in slow, inelegant circles.

There are those who seek me a lifetime but never we meet,

And those I kiss but who trample me beneath ungrateful feet.

At times I seem to favor the clever and the fair,

But I bless all those who are brave enough to dare.

By large, my ministrations are soft-handed and sweet,

But scorned, I become a difficult beast to defeat.

For though each of my strikes lands a powerful blow,

When I kill, I do it slow…

As she sat back and laughed, I'd never felt more useless. Rhys had said this was supposed to be simple, yet I couldn't think of anything that resembled what she'd described, not in the slightest. Mother above, if this was supposed to be easy, I shuddered to think what else she'd had in mind.

Rhys's hands were on my waist again as he pulled me back onto his lap. I let his touch ground me. His talons pulled out of my mind gently, returning the control back to me without it being so sudden I'd react involuntarily and give the ruse away.

Despite having no idea what the answer could be, I let myself bask in the victory for a moment. Just having the riddle in my head meant that Rhys and I had won, and we'd done it right under Amarantha's nose.

Perhaps Amren had been right when she said my mate and I should be unstoppable together.

This time, the brush of Rhys's mind against mine felt like a friendly cat rubbing affectionately against my legs. I took that to mean he'd heard my thoughts and agreed. Now it was just a matter of enduring the rest of the party. All things considered, it didn't seem like too much of an ordeal if it meant I could stay this close to Rhys for a few more hours.

I turned the riddle over in my head as Amarantha went back to taunting Tamlin instead of me. Rhys continued to smirk and poured a few more glasses of "wine" down my throat. I did my best to look like I was struggling not to fall over.

I'd truly thought the worst was over until the throne room doors slammed open. The crowd murmured as the Attor dragged in a sobbing faerie and dropped him right in front of the dais. The faerie didn't even get up off the ground.

"I caught the summer lordling attempting to escape through the caves to the Spring Court lands," the Attor said. It sounded positively gleeful, its tail twitching with excitement like a dog's. "What would you like done with him, my queen?"

Amarantha's eyes snapped to Rhys as she commanded, "Find out why, so I can decide."

I'd been a fool to think the night was anywhere close to over.

#feysand #feyre archeron #we said hello and your eyes look like coming home #posting fanfic from the airport on a business trip like the girlboss i am lol

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dontbotherwiththepronunciation · 1 year

Text

The narrative didn't doom me, it just ditched me

Warning: There will be mentions of upsetting content like sexual abuse, bullying, xenophobia and manipulation. It won't get graphic and it won't be discussed in-depth but it will be mentioned.

I've been thinking a lot about my attachment to Jeyne Poole and I think I cracked the code or at least I’m cracking the code.

So, requirements to become a "The narrative didn't doom me, it just ditched me" character:

Involve some sort of metanarrative irony, can be intentional or accidental

Being archetypal to a secondary or tertiary character, but written with depth or relevance to the story

Becoming obsolete. Be it by an adaptation, the narrative, or the fandom's perception. This person doesn't matter.

I listed four examples under the readmore

Wakaba Shinohara

(look at me, a non-practicing pseudo-intellectual talking about RGU)

Mother of all mothers! She is the blueprint!

She is the only secondary character who doesn’t appear on the opening of the show. She is average looking to the point you could pass her as a background character compared to all the other prominent characters in the story, as a student she is average, she has no special abilities or talents and the nicest and most personal compliment she gets is Utena (Wakaba's best friend, but not a feeling that is reciprocated) telling her she'd make a good housewife.

She has an entire episode dedicated to the Angst of being a satellite character and even after that episode which shows the tragedy of her story being a sideline, she remains in that sideline.

Wakaba's only sense of self value comes from her being close to the people the narrative deems as more special and since Utena has been distancing herself a little from her because she is growing closer to Anthy, being suddenly able to keep bad boy renegade (actually cringe fail loser) Saionji dependant on her transforms her into a protagonist. Suddenly she is the one being called pretty by Utena, she is getting better grades, she is being above average. She has something that makes her special!

The saddest thing is that she had already been pivotal to Utena's narrative development. During episode 12 she is the one who triggers Utena into reclaiming her Princehood and duelling Touga, but she is not capable of seeing that as something she can call her own.

And then during the masterpiece that is "Wakaba Flourishing" we see her confronting those insecurities and feelings of inferiority once she realises Saionji will leave her too and discard her!

She duels Utena, intends to kill Anthy, who se believes is the one behind her losing Utena and Saionji's attentions, loses to the protagonist who loves her, but not enough to make her become special too...and then....

Wakaba goes back to her dorm room, now empty of Saionji who no longer needs to live at her place, and we viewers are destroyed.

She returns to her cheery, poppy, apparently happy-go-lucky self, but we know what lurks inside her.

It's funny because the narrative likes playing with her. On the one hand she is special! She is the one who gets Utena out of her depression in episode 12 and she is the one who saves Utena & Anthy at their escape in the movie. But then again, there is only one episode centred on her, right? And that episode ends once Saionji leaves her. She loses the spotlight as soon as a more relevant character distances themselves from her.

The fact she hasn't appeared in any of the post-show/movie mangas, while other show-only characters have, is heartbreaking and hilarious.

Sorry Wakaba, you are lovely but you don't make the cut, go listen to some Penelope Scott, her lyrics are a bit curt, but still, it couldn't hurt.

Heather Matarazzo in her iconic role as Dawn Wiener

Beloved...

Dawn Wiener is the main character of Todd Solondz “Welcome to the Dollhouse”, although if compared to most coming-of-age protagonists, she is quite depressing.

At school she is bullied, at home she is neglected, she has no friends, talents, or self esteem and the few times she stands up for herself things backfire. She is not always loveable either. Dawn feels dangerously envious to her little sister Missy, who is everything Dawn is not; beloved and beautiful.

As we see her grow up in the movie, we come to the realisation that, it doesn’t matter how much she tries, things won’t get better for her.

Dawn Wiener ends her introduction movie as a perpetual loser who has somewhat decided to conform to her place as an underdog who will never find acceptance among her family or peers, partially because of her looks, which are seen by most as ugly. It's more one of the first scenes in the movie has a young girl bullying Dawn in the bathroom and when Dawns asks her why, the girls responds "Because you are ugly."

In the spin off movie "Palindromes" it is revealed that her adulthood wasn't much more different. She went to college, gained weight and acne and killed herself after becoming pregnant by date rape.

The entire motif of Solondz cinema can be explained within the lines spoken by one of his characters at the end of the movie:

"No one ever changes. They think that they do, but they don't. If you are the depressed type now, that's the way you'll always be. If you're the mindless happy type now, that's the way you'll be when you grow up."

Surprisingly in another spin-off of "Welcome to the Dollhouse", "Wiener Dog", Dawn finds a happy ending. She has a stable and enjoyable job as a veterinary and is rekindling a relationship with her love interest from "Welcome to the Dollhouse", Brandon. Their last scene shows them happily talking about their future while holding hands.

So it probably sounds weird whenever I say this is a much sadder and depressing ending than the one where she commits suicide.

And I stand by that, because there is a fundamental change in "Wiener Dog".

Dawn's actress, Heather Matarazzo, has been recast by a more conventional-looking actress who is much more fitting into the female ideas of beauty Dawn was told she could never become. If anything, her new actress looks more similar to Dawn's little sister.

The fact that Matarazzo wasn't informed of this, and only came to find out that her most iconic character was now being portrayed by conventionally attractive and successful Greta Gerwig through Twitter, while she was struggling to find roles that actually allowed her to act instead of just being cast as a insulting comedic archetype, like the abhorrent admirer, is the final gut punch. She felt deeply hurt.

Also, just wanna add, the entire movie (Welcome to the Dollhouse) is on YouTube for free but it’s a VERY upsetting movie. It’s hyperbolic in its dark comedy without being edgy, and it is uncomfortable because somehow it still manages to be cruelly realistic in its themes of bullying and abuse. I’ve only watched it two times and, now that my depression has gotten stronger than ever, I sure won’t watch it again.

Jeyne Poole

♪ A terrible mistaaaaaaake was made... ♫ I love that song for her because it fits her in and outside the story.

On a meta-level, I think she is the most tragic because it's accidental. The two former examples were written and portrayed with the intention of making us feel their tragedy. This is not poor Jeyne Poole's case. I genuinely get anxious when thinking about her or how she is treated by fandom because her case is real. She is one of those things that make me worry Solondz might be right in his cynical views of the world.

She is a book character so I can't put pictures of her without stealing art but also this entire thing is about characters being treated like shit by the narrative in order to drive a point, so hahah Jeyne! You don't get a picture! (But you get links because I love some people's art (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) and I'd feel too bad about being mean to her)

The show played a lot with my hopes involving her. She appears in one episode only and has no lines. Later on she is mentioned by name by Sansa Stark, a main/POV character who is a friend of hers and who she considers to be more beautiful. After that we never hear of her again.

This could have worked, had the show stayed loyal to the source material.

In the fifth book of the series, it is revealed to the readers that she is being passed off as the daughter of an important House, Arya Stark, so she can marry the future lord Paramount who is a sadistic monster. Her new husband abuses her terribly and while there are a few political factions opposing her husband, who intend on liberating her, this is only because they think she is Arya Stark, since no one would care for her misfortune if they knew who she truly is.

Jeyne Poole, a character who is deemed as "not important of risking your life for" gets someone to risk his life and, more importantly, his skin in order to save her! Not Arya, Jeyne! Theon, former childhood co-habitant now turned into co-victim co-perpetrator, saves her. The show adaptation decided she was not important enough to appear in the story, and replaced her with Sansa Stark, a main character the audience already felt attached to, who was from a nobler house and considered to be more beautiful. Jeyne's plot was given to the girl she sees herself as inferior to in the books. Her plot was deemed important, her impact was deemed important, but Jeyne herself was not.

She is tragic, there is a reason she is here too, but at least in the story she still has a chance at happiness. In the fandom though...yeah, she lost the war, even worst there wasn't a war. Look at the number of fanworks tagged as ASOIAF involving the Sansa-Theon-Ramsay constellation, compare it to the number of fanworks tagged as ASOIAF involving the Jeyne-Theon-Ramsay constellation and you'll find evidence to that. It gets even funnier when the show constellation and plot line stays intact in fanfics, but she is still added in order to transform her back into Sansa's token best friend with no political relevance and no connection to Theon or Ramsay.

The books' author, GRRM, spoke about being upset by the change done on the show, but in truth I don't have many hopes for Jeyne Poole and considering how he is a slow writer and I am very ill person, I doubt I'll get to witness Jeyne P managing to escape this list.

Sorry Jeyne, you weren't doomed, just ditched. Sucks to be you I guess.

Areida

The least tragic in story and development, but still someone who (sadly) deserves to be here.

She is a book character and given how this book doesn't have much of a fandom there isn't any official art of her, but I like these: (1) (2)

Similarly to Jeyne, she suffered in the adaptation, but then again, who doesn't?

Her book counterpart was given a more in depth characterisation. She was an immigrant, came from a poor background, spoke with a strong accent and was described in a manner resembling someone of African ancestry (dark skin, box braids). In the movie it is implied she might be from another country or ethnia, she is played by an Indian actress, but her accent is gone, her hair is straight and we don't get any characterisation or background on her. Her friendship with Ella is downplayed and Ella only starts her quest after being forced to tell her she can't be friends with her anymore and making a xenophobic comment. In the book, Ella parts on her quest so as not to have to obey and break their friendship and that conversation doesn't take place. In the books, Areida's pain matters and it is Ella's unwillingness to hurt her that sends her to search for Lucinda, the fairy who gave her the gift of obedience, so she can remove the curse and won't be forced to ruin her friendship with Areida and cause her more distress. She runs away from finishing school before she can break Areida's heart. And even after their separation, Ella still thinks of Areida with an endearing fondness and tells her future love interest, Prince Char, about her.

In the movie, there is an emphasis in showing Ella's pain and their reconciliation isn't shown, but we are supposed to assume they did have a reconciliation because Areida is seen at Ella and Char's wedding. Areida is reduced to become an unconditional sidekick whose feelings aren't important in the grand scheme of things. We don't see her break down crying after hearing her supposed best friend make a xenophobic comment about her, not how lonely she must have felt afterwards, nor how their conversation once reunited went. She is only Ella's friend, not her own character.

The irony, Ella's quest being triggered by Areida's feelings is turned into Ella's quest being triggered by Ella's feelings because neither the audience, nor the narrative, nor the people making the movie care about Areida's feelings, something the novel has been trying to portray as wrong multiple times.

The adaptation of Ella Enchanted (which I only watched two days ago because of curiosity and oh god why did they whitewash Char??? WHY IS LUCINDA A RACIAL STEREOTYPE???? No wonder my parents didn't let me watch Disney movies! they suck!) was so different from the book that talking about them as one almost feels wrong. Had they gone to claim the book was the inspiration behind this movie, that would have been alright, but as an adaptation, it's quite horrendous. I can understand why they made the changes they made, but given how the movie has overshadowed the book in popular culture, and thus it is Movie!Areida who people might remember, I still have to let her stay here.

So, yeah...I think this is it. It's the irony and the pain behind the irony. Yeah...

#anthy himemiya is kind of the anti-character to this because she was doomed by the narrative until SHE DITCHED THE NARRATIVE #amazing I love that for her #Vale hasn't read Ella Enchanted and Tânia doesn't like Solondz (honestly good call. based)#So I don’t know a single person who knows all these characters so this is kind of pointless #but sometimes this type of stuff is at the very least distracting #speaking #fandom related #the narrative didn't doom me it just ditched me #Wakaba shinohara #revolutionary girl utena #welcome to the dollhouse #todd solondz #jeyne poole #asoiaf #Ella enchanted #Gail Carson levine #literature #Spotify

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aburameweek · 2 months

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Aburame Week Rules

This is an Aburame event, all content needs to be Aburame related. Doesn’t matter if it’s well know Aburame, lesser known Aburame, or an Aburame OC. As long as it’s Aburame centric, that’s all that is asked

All submissions must be new works created for this event and not posted before the event begins. Late submissions will be accepted until the 30th of June Please and thank you~

Age gap ships with gaps larger than 5 years must be tagged as such

All content is allowed, including NSFW and dark. They must be appropriately tagged with trigger warnings and under a readmore cut. This is so that people can block tags and you can still participate in the event

For suggestive and NSFW content, characters must at least be 17+

Be kind. rude comments and unsolicited criticisms on others works are not tolerated here. If you don’t like something; block, move on, and be done with it.

If the rules are not followed, the pieces will not be reblogged.

If in doubt, don’t be afraid to ask questions here. It won’t bug me at all (get it)

#aburameweek2024

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officialsollux · 14 days

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To Cage a Sun

Sollux Captor wakes up from the game back on Alternia where he is promptly kidnapped by the empire to be made into a helmsman. The last thing he sees is Eridan's message telling him to run before he is integrated into the mainframe of a ship.

Long fic with major trigger warnings & helmsman Sollux POV

Tags & warning under readmore

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con

Additional Tags: Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon, Alternian Empire (Homestuck), Helmstroll Sollux Captor, Imperialism, Dehumanization, Post-Sburb (Homestuck), Post-Sburb/Sgrub, POV Sollux Captor, Electrocution, Sexual Violence, Physical Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kidnapping, Bipolar Sollux Captor, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Long, Space Flight, Dissociation, Integrated With a Computer, Angst, Horror, Helmstrolls (Homestuck), Plot, Original Character(s), Psychic Abilities, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Loss of Autonomy, Loss of Identity, Consent Issues, Bonding, Brain Damage, POV Second Person, unreality

#erisol #sollux captor #homestuck #abuse tw #kidnapping tw #hs #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fic #eridan ampora #many others too this is a long fic #alternian empire #fractal skaia

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theweirderstuffblogdontlook · 8 months

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Decided to also make a copy of the fanfic on here as well as the one on Ao3 to help keep the chronological order post accurate. This fic shows how Bob and Caprica met. Trigger warnings: gore, cannibalism, manipulation, possession, kidnapping, murder, Can be considered a sequel to this fic if you could use more context

How Bob Came Back From the Dead: https://www.tumblr.com/theweirderstuffblogdontlook/710347084133498880/wrote-another-fanfic-chunk-for-my-bob-velseb-au?source=share

Put the fic below a readmore cus it is a long one yall! lemme know what ya think

It had been probably the worst experience of his life thus far, but after a considerable slog he had made it from the gorge in the forest he had woken up in, back to civilization.

He'd hadn't had to walk the whole way, a hunter driving a rusty pickup truck had spotted him shambling pitifully alongside the road covered in grime and clothes torn up to hell. And had pulled over, saying something about how he assumed Bob must have been a survivor of a car accident.

Bob had sliced the man's throat soon as he got close, and then gave a few extra stabs for good measure.

Knowing that consuming human flesh could speed up his healing, he had desperately torn into the man.

Only to immediately regret it, as with the first hunk of flesh he swallowed, he could feel the delicate, barely formed organs inside him rupture with a pain best described like he had swallowed the spinning blade of a blender.

And without the pain dampening powers of his previous amulet, it had been enough to make him double over and collapse, further worsening the pain of all the other poorly healed injuries from his recent death, autopsy, and getting thrown off a cliff.

Bob not bothering to try and stop the flow of tears and pained sobs as he curled up in pain on the ground.

Still feeling the lump of meat he had swallowed floating like a foreign object inside him.

It had been clear something had been horribly wrong with him internally ever since he had woken up in the gorge, but it only now had dawned on him just how bad it was.

His stomach was more like a large water balloon full of jelly in his midsection. Being able to be pressed in past where his organs should have been. Even being able to feel the location of his spine from pressing on his midsection it was so empty. And feeling it sloshing with fluid with every clumsy movement.

And it had been made clear, he literally didn't have the internal organs necessary to digest meat properly.

But he still needed physical materials to let the supernatural healing that had resurrected him also rebuild his body.

So he hoped liquid would be easier to consume.

He slit the guys wrists and tried to drain whatever blood hadn't yet leaked out of the corpse. Then sliced open the man's torso, and cut out a few of the softer organs that could be mashed into a paste in his hands before shoved in his face.

It was still painful, but the fluids were more able to diffuse into the space where his organs should have been, and a feeling of familiar warmth let him know the sped up healing was working.

After awhile, he had taken the keys from the hunters pocket and driven the man's truck, too delirious with pain and unbearable discomfort to really even know where he was going, just trying to stay in the lines on the road.

He'd ended up driving the truck off the road into a ditch not too long after, having passed out in the driver's seat.

But it had gotten him just close enough to town to find a condemned house to hide in.

Though it also made him aware he had gone in the wrong direction.

His home town was south of the forest, he'd gone north, to the town on the other side of the forest.

Which could potentially be a good choice, as people would be less likely to immediately recognize him. But he was also in unfamiliar territory, in a town not so much under the cult's thumb. With the local law enforcement probably not being so deliberately underfunded and understaffed.

He would have to be extra careful to stay out of sight till he recovered.

Though it wasn't as if he didn't feel paranoid enough already.

His body was sooooo messed up. Still without fully functioning organs, and with a body temperature barely above room temperature. Even though the supernatural goop kept him from actively dying, his body's alarm bells that death was imminent just wouldn't stop ringing.

With probably the hardest to ignore being the sense of impending doom, a symptom usually associated with sudden heart failure.

With the sensation of terrible but certain dread that he may drop dead at any moment, getting broken up only by what could best be described as extremely tired panic attacks.

After collapsing and about an hour of agony writhing pitifully on the ground, he was able to pass out again in the abandoned house.

Waking up again hours later to a racoon chewing experimentally on his hand.

The racoon squealed and thrashed as he snatched it. Bob fixing it with a bleary, bloodshot gaze as he considered his options.

He was more lucid than when he had collapsed, but just existing right now was still agony for him. He was nowhere near fully healed.

And eating a raw racoon didn't seem too palatable to him, but he needs physical material to heal.

So clenching his hand around the raccoons neck, it's screeching stopped, and with a snap of its neck, the thrashing stopped too.

With some effort, he rolled onto his back, grabbed his knife with his other hand, and sliced open the raccoons neck. Holding it over his open mouth to let the blood drain into it.

Letting the raccoon and the arm holding it fall to his side limply once it stopped dripping, and taking a few deep breaths. His lungs seeming like the only part of him that was functioning properly right now.

Bob not bothering to wipe off the few droplets of blood on his face that had missed his mouth as he stared at the ceiling.

He then reached into his pocket, and pulled out the amulet he'd picked up earlier.

Experimentally separating the two halves with his thumb, then clicking them back together.

Supposedly, this thing would let him take control of someone. Wear their body like a costume or something like that.

He had overheard a number of cult members gossiping about their experiences with using these things, talking about em like something out of a spy thriller paperback.

He was wishing now though, that he'd paid closer attention to the details.

But the idea of taking control of someone seemed like it could come in handy right about now.

Have someone be able to go out without drawing any suspicion, get him painkillers and food without him having to move himself.

But he'd never actually used one of these amulets before.

He knew the jist of it, top half gets used by him, bottom half goes on who he's controlling, but he’d need to experiment to really figure it out.

And that meant he'd have to actually kidnap a living person and keep them somewhere private.

The effort of actually doing that though… in his current state?

His heart sunk with dread with the question if he could actually pull it off.

But not being able to think of a better option, he let off a bitter huff, and sat up, then carefully got to his feet.

Feeling an unsettling popping sensation as the motion tore delicate connective tissues that had healed in his empty abdomen. Though thankfully, there wasn't any pain receptors there to feel that part fully.

Though there were more than enough injuries across the rest of his body to make up for it.

He slowly limped around the condemned house, looking for anything useful.

Finding a length of cord probably left behind by a moving company, along with some dusty fabric.

Should be enough to bind and gag someone.

He limps out the door, intent on catching the first person he sees and dragging them back to the condemned house, or a closer secluded location if possible.

Buuuuttttt that quickly proves unfeasible.

The first person he sees screams and sprints away, as does the second.

And getting a glimpse of himself in the reflective surface of a parked car, it's clear why.

He looked horrifying.

Covered in blood and grime, crazy bloodshot eyes with glowing blue pupils, half mangled costume, even frothing slightly at the mouth.

He looked like a rabid walking dead.

Which wouldn't be too much of a problem, (not counting the psychological damage it was doing to him seeing himself like this) if he could actually chase after the people who ran.

As is, even his current limping shuffle felt like he was pushing way past his limits.

He'd have to sneak up on people if he were to ever hope of actually catching anyone.

And maybe if he didn't stick out so much, he'd have a better chance of pulling that off.

Though the sun was starting to set, so maybe he could just use the cover of darkness as his disguise.

He spots what looks like a public park off to the side, seeing empty playground equipment through a line of trees.

He shifts his shuffles trajectory in that direction.

The park being thankfully sparse of people to notice him. As while he needed to get someone close enough to grab, weak as he was right now, more than one or two people working together might be enough to overpower him. Or at least be enough to alert the authorities before he could get them all with his knives.

He narrows his focus further when he sees his target.

A public bathroom. And even more good luck, a private disability/family toilet.

He locks himself in his new temporary haven.

Running water, a mirror, soap, and paper towels.

He hadn't realized how dehydrated he was until he was gulping down water from the sink like his life depended on it.

Feeling a bit of strength return to his limbs. And looking at his face, he could see a bit of fullness return to his sunken features.

Fuck, had his whole body been like a deflated balloon? Bodies aren't supposed to work like this.

But he didn't even have a stomach that could churn at the realization of how many unexpected unnatural experiences he was going through with the supernatural life support keeping him alive.

He missed his old amulet so much. It kept so much more of a lid on the negative physical reactions.

He could just get back up from injuries like hardly anything happened.

But now it was more just like he simply wouldn't die no matter how much agony he was in.

With fumbling fingers, he took the amulet out of his pocket, shoved it under his tattered sweater and grime covered shirt, and pressed it against his chest until it hurt. He was mostly still running on resurrection goop the cult had doused him with, but all the different kinds of amulets the cult made had at least a little healing abilities to them.

And he needed it so badly.

Bracing himself against the sink, he has to take a moment for another unflattering panic attack.

Though now that he wasn't so dehydrated, his sobbing could now be coupled with much more copious tears.

He's interrupted though as his forehead hits with a distressing smack on the porcelain sink, snapping him out of what must have been another fainting spell.

He tries to steady himself, putting the amulets back in his pocket, and looks at himself again in the mirror.

Get cleaned up, sneak up close to people before they can think to run…. Right…

He starts ripping off the mangled bits of his devil costume, discarding them on the ground beside the sink.

And using the hand soap out of the dispenser, he starts using it to clean himself off.

Makeup, blood, mud, miscellaneous grime.

Taking off his sweater and putting it in the sink, plugging the drain enough to start filling the sink with water and rinse the sweater too.

Though he pauses for a second to inspect himself in the mirror once his sweater was off.

Looking from the mirror, to his bare forearm, down at his chest and undershirt, then back at the mirror.

He takes off the undershirt as well for good measure, and takes another look.

Oh man, he did not look good. He barely recognized himself, and not just cus of the big T shaped scar, or the bullet wounds, or all the grime. Given time to heal, the autopsy scar and bullet wounds would fade away. And the grime was one rinse away from being gone.

No, what messed him up, was how thin he'd become in what felt like a single afternoon.

See, the supernatural healing was miraculous for sure, but it couldn't make something out of nothing.

So it had been rebuilding the necessary for survival parts of Bob, out of the parts that weren't necessary to survive.

Dude had lost what must have been over half his bulk. Not just fat, but muscle too.

He didn't think he'd ever been this thin in his entire adult life.

He questions briefly if he could consider it like a good thing. Would this be considered a more attractive physique?

…it didn't feel like it. And he wasn't looking to date anyway so why should he care if people found him more or less attractive.

He just felt sick and hurt everywhere and his skin felt thin and delicate and ashen from the severe anemia and he didn't have the big muscles in his shoulders he'd once been proud of.

And he could feel the space where his old amulet had been surgically grafted into his chest with a worrying emptiness.

His old amulet had let him have his bones shattered by a car, and get back up a few seconds later like nothing had happened.

But his old amulet must have been destroyed by the cult in order to resurrect him. There was no getting it back despite how much he missed it right now.

But the thought that the supernatural healing had dissolved so much of his excess body mass, and yet had still left him in this bad of shape? It made his current situation feel all the more dire.

And it made him wish he could move faster to fix things.

Who knew how long he had left before his time ran out and the healing stopped being able to keep his head above water, and he'd just collapse in a heap and die a second time?

No, he can't think about that right now. Not another panic attack. Gotta keep moving.

Looking at himself again, he was tempted to ditch getting cleaned up and put his big red sweater back on so he wouldn't have to keep looking at how different his body was.

But that wouldn't get him closer to being fixed. Gotta get presentable enough to get close to someone without them running away.

After rinsing it off, Bob started using his undershirt like a washcloth to better scrub off the grime.

Formerly a plain white shirt, now more like a red-brown tattered rag with sleeves from how blood stained and full of bullet holes it was.

He pauses for a moment as he rubs his thumb over a round burn mark in the fabric, bitterly remembering getting slapped in the stomach with a hot pan full of bacon.

Right…. He'd failed this Halloween too. Hadn't gotten Lila or her little skeleton kid.

Though if he doesn't recover from his current state, he won't be getting another chance, so he tries to keep focused on his current task.

Using the hand soap like shampoo, he tries to get some of the slime out of his hair. He also finds with some distress, more hair coming off his head than he'd been expecting. Big clumps of it.

He hoped it wasn't male pattern baldness catching up to him, and was just a side effect of coming back from the dead.

But either way, better bald than dead. Don't think about it.

After a bit, he was definitely looking more presentable. But the effort of moving his arms and keeping himself standing was catching up to him.

So, getting close to his limit, he slumped to the ground beside the sink, panting heavily to try and catch his breath, as the sink overflowed with water thanks to his red sweater blocking the drain.

He adjusted his angle to lean his head on the sink, letting some of the running water drip over his head and shoulders.

Felt kinda nice, getting some more of the lingering soap off himself that the washcloth shirt hadn't done a good job with.

Taking a moment to rest his eyes.

He's awoken by a knock at the door and a shout of

"Hello? Anyone in there? Hello?"

His attention spikes, now's his chance! He just has to open the door and grab whoever that is!

He tries to get to his feet, feeling a thin layer of water on the floor around him from the still overflowing sink.

Great, he'd been sitting in public bathroom floor water for who knows how long.

He groans and strains to try and get to his feet, but the floor is slippery, and frankly he should probably be in a hospital instead of walking.

And before he can get his legs under him, the voice says in a grumpy tone,

"Guess it'll be the morning shifts problem."

And Bob let's off a small whiny,

"nooooooo…"

Still struggling to get up.

By the time he's able to open the door, he sees a golf cart full of cleaning and landscaping equipment driving off.

Another opportunity missed.

Although good news, it seemed now he could at least pretend not to limp.

Guess the leg that got mangled when his lifeless corpse was dumped in the ravine had a chance to heal more while he was passed out.

Still, night had fallen, so it was time to try and find another target.

Shuffling back to grab his sweater out of the sink, he wrings it out and puts it on. Still pretty damp, but the red wool hid all the stains and bullet holes much better than his undershirt. And he was in such severe and pronounced discomfort, being cold and wet barely registered over everything else wrong with him, at least for now.

Looking at his reflection one last time, he still looked pretty ill, but his eyes weren't so bloodshot anymore, and his pupils had stopped glowing. He probably wouldn't raise too much suspicion if seen from a distance, or even up close while obscured by shadows.

He hid the lower half of his face in his turtleneck and limped out into the darkness of the park.

Getting his bearings for a moment, before he left the direct glow of the streetlights to lurk in the shadows along the trees and bushes.

Despite it being dark out, it seems like activity had actually picked up a bit since he had arrived.

Though that wasn't too surprising actually. It had to be November by now, (though he didn't know the specific number of days it had been since Halloween) and since the sun sets early in the fall/winter. Could be as early as 6:30 or so, with people going to the park after having their dinner.

Still, he spots a few people biking (aka, too fast for him to chase)

Few friends or couples on benches (aka, witnesses who could scream before he could kill the spares and snatch one to take)

And some parents with kids (once again, witnesses who could sound the alarm).

Though looking around, there were a few people on their own too.

He'd tried and comically failed to snatch a speedwalker, who hadn't even noticed his clumsy attempt thanks to their headphones. And he felt too embarrassed to immediately try it again with the next person who walked by.

So he shuffled on morosely, looking for hopefully an even easier target.

He spots someone sitting alone on a bench, a bit aways from the playground. And as he gets closer, he can make out more detail.

At first he thinks it might be a teenager messing with their smartphone, but as he gets closer, he can make out a collared button up shirt and work pants with a professional looking messenger bag beside them.

So must just be an especially short pencil pushing office worker.

He moves to come at them from behind. Though his earlier fuck up with the power walker makes him a bit anxious about being able to not fuck this one up too, so he decides to do a little sleuthing first to make sure he was making the right choice.

"Hey… anyone else sitting here?"

His target turns to look at him suspiciously for a moment, before responding,

"No, it's all yours. I can move to the next one."

As they started packing up their things.

And seeing their face and tone of voice… Oh, guess it's a woman.

He'd kinda thought it was a short guy cus of the short hair and more masculine office worker clothes outfit.

And man, they looked even shorter up close. He should have no problem kidnapping a tiny woman like this. She probably barely weighs anything.

Bob fell into his old customer service habits, putting on a warmer tone of voice and waving his hand.

"Nawh, don't get up on acountta little ol me. I don't mean to scare ya off, my feet are jus killin me."

"It's really no trouble."

She responds, though she keeps packing up as Bob moves to the front of the bench, clearly not intending to sit down with him. Though she pauses as she hears a squelchy sort of noise as Bob takes a few steps, and she looks him up and down.

Before bluntly asking,

"Why are you so wet?"

He splutters a bit and tries to think up an excuse, settling on

"I uhhhhhh… fell in the pond?"

She looks behind her at the pond a bit in the distance, then back at Bob.

"Dude, basically all the ponds at public parks like this are fetid swamps full of duck poop, don't be trying to sit next to people if you're covered in pond water.

"Well, uhhhh… to be fair, I did rinse off in the bathroom."

Bob trying and failing to not sound suspicious.

She fixes Bob with a pretty severe looking judgemental stare, before letting out a sigh, standing up straight, and rubbing her eyes in frustration as she says,

"I've got a few emergency towels in my car, do you want to borrow them so you don't freeze and get the flu before you can get home?"

A towel would actually be pretty great right now. He'd kinda been able to ignore his temperature up until being reminded of it, but it's clear his body temperature still was way below the normal body temperature of a living human. And the autumn chill was not helping things.

Still, stay on target. This woman is like less than half his size, if there's anyone he should be able to overpower right now, it should be this lady.

Just one last thing to check.

"Much obliged mam'. But aren't ya lookin after any of those kids there?"

He points over at the nearby playground.

"Hmm? No. I don't have any kids or anything. Now you can wait here, and I can go grab a towel. Unless you need to call someone to come pick you up or anything first?"

She's here alone, no witnesses, perfect.

He lunges, cupping a hand over her mouth to muffle any yelling, and wrapping an arm around her arms to press her kicking and struggling form against his chest and stomach as he backpedals out of the range of the street lamps glow, pressing through some bushes to further obscure them from the path.

He staggers slightly, trying to keep his balance despite his injuries and the thrashing of the woman. But he startles when she bites down hard on his hand, and he loses his balance completely after she swings back her heel to kick him in the groin.

His bad leg is the first to give out as he doubles over, and he falls hard and lopsided onto one shoulder.

Bob feeling that popping sensation again as a bunch of barely healed internal structures in his torso were snapped from the impact of the fall.

And was it possible for ribs to be dislocated? Because it sure felt like something like that had happened to Bob.

He doesn't have time to react to the pain though as his hostage quickly squirms free, and a bunch of fluid hits the back of Bobs throat and sinuses. Not burning like stomach acid, but instead tasting faintly of blood and plasma.

He swallowed thickly, struggling to keep it all down, and reached out to snatch the ankle of the woman with a vice grip before she could scamper fully out of reach, causing her to hit the ground from the momentum.

He shifts to try and get his other hand free to grab her with, while trying no to puke from the jostling.

Last thing he needs right now is to vomit up all the stuff keeping his torso from being just an empty cavity of half formed organs.

But as he gets a bit more upright so gravity could help keep the fluids down, and coughs to try and clear some fluid that had leaked over to his lungs, the woman flipped around to kick him square in the face, blurring his vision, and with another kick to the face, he was seeing stars and leaking what was probably blood from his nose.

Damn it, he literally can't afford to bleed right now!

A sharp yank to pull the woman closer, and he's able to pin her under one knee. Making it hard for her to breathe under his weight, though she kept snarling and trying to bite and claw him anyway.

So he first pulled out the rag from earlier to gag her, before pinning her more to get her hands and feet to hogtie her.

After a short moment to catch his breath, he stands, still panting with the effort, and picks her up under one arm.

But even bound and gagged she wouldn't quit thrashing, so despite being so light weight for a person she was still unwieldy to hold.

Chastising her in a hushed, half whispered tone, Bob said

" Hey quitchur squirmin !"

But she just fixed him with a furious glare at that, and started to headbutt his arm while trying to chew through her gag and growling.

Bob looks around with concern. He didn't want to cause too much damage to his target, since he assumed that could get in the way of puppeting their body.

But this one might be more trouble than they're worth.

"Maybe I should try someone else…"

He glances back at the still struggling woman under his arm, brow still knitted with worry, and with one finger he hooks around the gag he had tied around her head and pulls it down so she could speak.

Earning him a loud, vicious, murderous shout of

"I'M GONNA RIP OUT YOUR JUGULAR VEIN WITH MY TEETH YOU SON OF A BITCH!!!!"

Bob pauses to process the threat for a second, then one of his big signature smiles cracks across his face. He pulls the gag back over her mouth.

He shifts her under one arm a bit for comfort, then with his free hand, pulls out his knife from his butcher belt, and holds it up to her neck.

"Either you quit squirmin, or you're the one who's gonna be bleedin out. Got it?"

Her eyes widened with fear, as her attention shifted between the knife and Bobs face a few times, along with a quick glance around her surroundings, before she made a defeated grumbling sound through the gag, and went more limp in Bobs grip.

Bobs grin got a little wider, and he put the knife away.

Using both hands to carry his hostage, and trying to keep his steps even and confident rather than a pathetic limp so as not to let on how badly he was doing or encourage any bold behavior.

The way back to the condemned house was slow, but it honestly surprised Bob how close the locations actually were now that he was more lucid. His previous delirious shuffle had made it feel like he'd been walking for miles.

His hostage had stopped squirming since the threat, but since Bob had only brought the one length of cloth, it was either a gag or a blindfold, not both.

And he could tell she was paying full attention to Bob and her surroundings.

Though Bob was confident that so long as he didn't faint and drop her, it didn't matter if she knew the location of his current temporary hideout or not.

It was almost amusing how her gaze would linger on street signs, or on the address numbers of the condemned house as Bob walked up the front porch and through the door, not bothering to close it behind himself.

After all, it was the middle of the night, and the condemned house didn't have any electricity. An open door would let in more moonlight.

Luckily though, Bob had found a battery powered camping lantern left behind among the other junk the previous tenants had left.

So grabbing that, he clicked it on, and walked to an open doorway, leading into the house's basement. Where things would be more muffled in the likely event of a lot of screaming.

The wooden stairs creaked loudly under his weight as Bob tried to take the steps extra carefully, one at a time.

Especially since with his hands full with the lantern and the hostage, he couldn't steady himself with the railing.

He makes it though, a small cloud of dust getting kicked up as his foot touches the solid ground of the basement.

A lot more stuff had been left behind here than upstairs. But nothing particularly of value.

Old paint cans, shelves of obscure and situational cleaning supplies, busted furniture, some rusted old tools, and a lot of dust.

Setting the lantern down on a workbench, Bob used his free hand to grab the least broken chair he could see and pull it more into the middle of the room. Then grab some more cord to tie with, before setting the hostage down in the chair, and tying them to the chair a bit first, before untying their hands and feet to re-tie them to the chair instead.

Bob then sat on the workbench next to the lantern with a heavy thump. Taking deep breaths to try and avoid panting from the exertion, or otherwise looking vulnerable in front of the hostage.

But apparently he had spent just a bit too long sitting there doing nothing, because the hostage piped up.

It's clear they were trying to enunciate as best they could through the gag, saying

"Whurrrr duuuu ouuuuu uwannn?"

What do you want.

Bob met their gaze, there was a lot of fear in those eyes, despite the clear attempt not to panic the woman was making.

"Did you know, the digestive system will begin to digest itself and the body around it after death?"

She stared at Bob blankly for a moment then seemed to decide that talking to Bob isn't the most productive thing to do right now, and their gaze went back to looking around the room for anything useful.

Before suddenly realizing something and turning back to Bob.

Bob had asked a question, and it's probably better if she answers the question.

She nods.

"Well now, aren't you a clever one?"

Bob teases, albeit in a condescending way.

Though he had once again phrased it as a question. She pauses for a moment thoughtfully. Then shook her head.

"No? You sayin you ain't clever? You ain't tellin me a fib now are ya?"

She looks more worried. It's clear she didn't know what Bob wanted to hear, so she didn't know how to respond. And after a few fearful, but thoughtful glances around the room, she does a noncommittal shrug. At least as best she could while tied to a chair.

And Bob let's off a low, dark chuckle in response. He then took a moment to examine their expression again.

"You don't know who I am, do you…"

She pauses again, before shaking her head no.

Guess he found one that doesn't watch the news.

"Heh, that might actually make things easier on me."

He slid off the table with a creak from the wood, and reached into his pocket, pulling out the amulet.

Top half for him, bottom half for the target.

He looked between the amulet and the hostage. Her big attentive eyes fixed firmly on the new thing in his hand.

Well, moment of truth he supposed. Bob took off his sweater.

Though him starting to get even this little bit more undressed, it set the hostage into a panic. Yelling through the gag and thrashing to try and get free. And soon trying to scoot the chair backwards to get out of reach of Bob even just a little bit more.

Bob didn't quite get why that had been a thing to set his hostage off, but he didn't really have time to think about it right now. Setting his sweater on the table as he brings the lantern in a bit closer for better light.

"What did I tell ya about squirming."

His expression more stern than anything when telling the hostage off. And she stopped as instructed, though there were now tears streaming down her face.

But there would be time to delight in the misery of others later, for now he needed to focus.

She cringed and turned away as he pulled his knife out and leaned in close to her, not wanting to watch whatever horrible thing he was gonna do to her. Letting off a fearful whine when instead of cutting her, he cut through the top 3 buttons of her dress shirt to open it up a bit over her chest. Though she opened her eyes again through the tears when the knife was withdrawn and stowed away back in Bobs belt.

And instead he held out the gold thing in his other hand, using his thumb to separate it into two halves with a small click.

He then examined both halves for a moment, also giving the hostage a moment to look them over as a result.

They looked like especially chunky gold jewelry, with a design of smooth and simple shapes, each with a blue-green diamond shape in the middle which seemed to be on both the front and back of the two items.

They were a slightly different shape from each other. One like a thick crescent moon, and one like a simplified cows head. Or maybe like a legless man with his arms above his head in a triumphant pose. With each of them having a bar going across them, which when fit together made a simple geometric wing shape.

Bob then took the man-shaped one and held it in his teeth like a handyman holding a spare tool. And with his other hand held up the crescent moon shaped one, while his now free hand held open the collar of her shirt to expose part of her chest.

"Now this might sting a bit little meatbag."

She barely has time to make a little fearful questioning noise, before the amulet is pressed against her skin, and holy fuck that thing felt like it was boiling hot !

She tried to stifle a scream of surprise and pain as the thing was kept pressed against her skin, unable to stop from thrashing as it felt like the thing was melting through layers and layers of skin, deeper and deeper until she could swear it was melting through the bone of her ribcage, and Bob gripped a hand over her shoulder to try and keep her more steady as he kept pressing on the amulet.

Once it was fully beneath the skin, the burning stopped and Bob took his hand off her chest. The hostage taking big gasping breaths, before she looked down at her chest, only to see a thin line just under her collar bones on otherwise unblemished skin.

And her expression said what her gagged mouth couldn't fully articulate.

What the fuck!!?? What the fuck!!?? WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT??!!??!!

Bob was still watching closely, with an analytic squint.

Looked like that one worked, now it was his turn.

He took the other half of the amulet out from between his teeth, and pressed it against his own chest, still keeping his other hand on her shoulder.

And she watched with some horror as the other half of the amulet steamed slightly against his skin, then started to sink into his chest. Though Bob didn't so much as flinch, which made her all the more intimidated at what the pain tolerance on this man must be to pull that off.

Bob then pulled back, standing up straight instead of leaning over his hostage.

And ran a few fingers over the mark on his chest. Looks like he's got them put on.

Now to figure out how they work.

He's supposed to be able to put this lady on like a costume and control their body from the inside, but what that entailed, Bob didn't exactly know. He'd never seen it in action before.

The hostage was still freaking out over what had happened, as one would expect. And then proceeded to freak out even more when Bob reached out to touch them.

But not half as much as they started to panic when Bob's hand absorbed into her skin like he was sticking it into a body of water.

At the contact, Bob felt something electric hit his brain, before a sensation started to spread through his mind.

Fear.

Panic.

Confusion.

Bob recoiled. Pulling his hand out.

Shit! Why was he suddenly afraid!! Sinking his hand into a person was weird, but it wasn't that scary!

Shit shit shit this is gonna set off another panic attack, he can't have a breakdown in front of one of his victims, they're supposed to be afraid of him. And he can't risk someone taking advantage of his current fragility.

He took a few cautious steps back, then slowly walked to the stairway, then up and out of the basement.

Only at the top did he suddenly clutch his chest and start hyperventilating, bracing his back against the wall beside the stairway and sliding down into a seating position as he tried to calm down before the strain on his weakened body would make him faint.

And as he calms down and better gets his bearings, he realizes what just happened.

Oh wow…

He pulled back mentally, and it's like the fear shut off. He leaned back in, and he could feel it again. It wasn't his fear, it was the hostage.

He leaned back in, further this time.

He could feel a different heartbeat ringing in his ears, out of rhythm with his own. He could feel arm muscles straining against bindings and the tough and angular wood of a chair, and….

Their arms didn't hurt nearly as much as his. He could feel them strain against the bindings. But under the bindings the body parts were… healthy.

Their bones didn't feel cracked or misaligned. Their skin didn't feel cold and clammy. They didn't feel a constant underlying nausea in their throat. Their torso felt firm and whole.Their mind didn't feel like it was pushing through a heavy fog to comprehend the world around it.

He let off an awestruck sigh as he relaxed against the wall further, losing himself slightly in the feeling of just not being himself for a moment, although the pain of his broken body kept him from becoming completely untethered in the sensation of being someone else.

Though he sat there chasing the feeling for a good while.

He'd lived a life of feeding his dark impulses in pursuit of his own pleasures, but in that moment, he didn't think there was anything in the world he wanted more right now than to have more of whatever this was.

More of his pain eased, and more of feeling… Bigger? More?

He could feel the hand of the woman he had captured downstairs, she was fidgeting with the cord he had tied her up with, trying to find the end of it to perhaps loosen her bindings and get free.

He raised his own hand, looking at it, and flexing and clenching his fist a few times. He then raised his other hand and did the same.

Two hands, but if he focused on the meatbag downstairs…

Three hands? Four hands?

It had bothered him how much bulk he had lost in recovering from being dead.

Did that bother him as much now?

He closed his eyes and mentally leaned in on the connection hard as he could, and flexed his hands again experimentally.

His mind struggled to parse the added stimulus the mental link was putting in his head. But feeling smaller and more frail was not one of those sensations.

It was all very uncanny, but not unpleasant.

His gaze turned back to the stairway down to the basement. And a thought occurs to him.

There's more of this feeling downstairs.

He's snapped out of the slightly trance-like state he had been stewing in when he felt the screams of pain and discomfort from his body at the motion of trying to stand up. Having to brace against the wall to help him to his feet, and once standing he started heading carefully back down the stairway.

A unsettling grin splits across his face as he meets the gaze of the hostage, causing her to freeze in fear, ceasing her struggling to get out of her bonds, as Bob's heavy footfalls get closer.

His smile wide and eyes manic as he leans in closer and says with a sinister tone.

" Lemme in ."

She screeches as Bob puts a hand on each shoulder, and sinks in his arms up to the elbows. His smile gets a little bit wider, as it seems like physical contact increases the clarity of the connection a little bit.

And the pain in his hands, he couldn't feel it.

Couldn't feel his hands either, but pulling a hand back out, everything came back like nothing had happened.

He put one hand on the chair instead to brace himself as he brought a leg up, and pressed his knee into the top of her thigh. Seemed like the pants didn't get in the way as his leg sunk in and disappeared.

Bob let off a big sigh of relief as the pain of his bad leg disappeared. Chair groaning from his added weight as he leaned more on the lap of the still panicking woman.

Though the added weight suddenly tipped the chair off balance, causing them both to fall backwards, knocking the wind out of the hostage both from hitting the ground, and the weight of Bob initially hitting their chest, before quickly sinking in like he was falling through a small, person-shaped gap in the world.

The last thing to go being Bobs hand, which had still been clutching the backrest of the chair.

Finally letting go of the wood, and letting his arm and hand slowly sink into her like it were sinking into a thick mud.

Her eyes watching it absorb into her with pure horror. Making additional noises of shock and terror though her gag.

Her struggling suddenly stops all at once, and her eyes unfocus, before refocusing with an eerie calm, blinking and looking around the room as if for the first time.

Bob had taken control.

He tried to move her arms and….

Oh right duh, he has just possessed the body of a tied up person.

So now he was tied up too.

Maybe he could just…..

Her eyes unfocused as her head slumped to the side, like a puppet whose strings had just been cut, and a large hand and arm reached out of her torso.

Feeling around blindly, it then planted its palm on the ground, and the second arm came out and did the same, and with a considerable shove the chair was tipped back up onto its legs.

The eyes of the woman blinked with a slowly refocusing gaze, as if waking up from a nap, while Bob's large pair of arms went about untying the various bindings.

The places where the arms connected to her torso shifting and sliding around as Bob's arms would move to reach the different bindings around her wrists, ankles, and chest. It being clear he could stick parts of himself out from basically anywhere along her torso.

And with everything untied, and before the woman could wake up fully, Bob's arms retracted into her chest and her eyes refocused as Bob retook control.

Leaning forward in the chair, he removed the final bit of binding, the cloth gag, using the woman's own hands. Smacking her lips experimentally at the dusty taste it left behind.

He then held out her hands, flexing the fingers and turning the wrists to see the front and back of the woman's hands. Then turning his attention lower to experimentally rotate the ankle of one of the woman's feet.

Wow… this didn't feel like puppeteering, or like controlling someone from a distance.

It really felt more like he had traded his body for another one. Being able to feel with her skin, smell with her nose, see with her eyes.

And all the pain and discomfort of his old broken body? Gone. It was…. Actually just gone.

Her eyes begin to sting as a few big wet tears start to form, and a wide unnatural smile splits across her face and lets off something halfway between a laugh and a sob.

The pain was gone.

Sure this new body was a bit sore, a bit tired. Some slight bruising around where the chest and limbs had been tied to the chair. Some anxious energy no doubt left over from the previous panic the body had just experienced.

And the work shoes weren’t exactly comfortable, and Bob wasn't too familiar with the sensation of wearing a bra, but…

Freaking hell, he would have killed just to take away a fraction of the pain he had been experiencing moments earlier.

Hell, he literally had killed not too long ago for exactly that purpose.

But this was a whole 'nother level. This was like he'd just flipped a light switch and turned it all off like it was nothing.

The worst pain and discomfort he had yet felt in his life, gone in barely more than an instant.

He hadn't even fully comprehended how much pain he was in before now, what with having almost 2 days to get more accustomed to being essentially a member of the walking dead, but the contrast was flatly staggering.

If he had known it would be this effective, he would have done it the first chance he had. He almost wanted to kick himself for having walked so long with the answer to his problems jangling uselessly in his pants pocket.

He'd been able to just turn it all off this whole time.

He's…. free.

The overwhelming wave of relief caused the tears to come even faster.

Bob having to take a few moments to just sit and process everything.

And soon, the possibilities now open to him started to turn the relief into excitement.

He's fixed now! All the stuff he hadn't been able to do moments earlier were now back on the menu baby!

He stood excitedly, a big grin that didn't look like it belonged to the woman plastered on her face, though interrupted as Bob startled slightly at the much lower to the ground perspective of his short hostage.

It almost made Bob feel like he was crouched down as he took a few careful steps.

Still, back on track. First thing, now that he has a functioning stomach, he wants to get some proper food. He considers killing a random bystander for a moment, but when his muscle memory tries to reach for a knife at his belt… there are none.

Right, this is a whole different body, they just have a plain belt and office pants.

His butcher tools must still be on his original body somewhere…. Inside?

It was pretty convenient that he didn't have to strip any of his clothes to… I guess possess someone is the right term? But right now, getting his knives out would mean sticking himself back out of his little safe haven, and re-experiencing all the pain and discomfort in his empty torso.

Didn't seem worth the effort.

And looking again at the much smaller and more delicate hands of his host, he further reconsiders jumping straight into the serial killing. Better to get used to things before he tries to take down anyone who might put up much of a fight.

Maybe just get a few burgers or something instead. And after all, he's basically in disguise now, he shouldn't arouse any suspicion in public. He could just walk in wherever and buy something.

Provided the location is still open at this time of night.

He shouldn't even have to shoplift. Whoever this woman was must have some money on them, right? Or at least a credit card. The woman's office worker attire and clean, well groomed appearance didn't exactly scream broke and homeless. He pats down the legs and turns out the pockets of the office pants.

But finding nothing but an employee ID tag in the pockets, he deflates a little bit, before his mind suddenly snapped to the memory of the messenger bag she'd had when he first found her in the park.

It was still pretty late at night, not much foot traffic to stumble upon misplaced items. So if he heads back to the park, it probably wouldn't be too late to find it!

Excited by his new functional limbs, he trots giddily over to the stairway, though his eye catches on his red sweater on the table.

Oh right, he must have forgotten to put it back on after activating the amulets, what with getting distracted by the panic attack and all.

He goes and picks up the sweater. It feeling both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. What with how huge it now was in proportion to his current body.

Man it felt weird being this small.

But there's no way his sweater would fit him now, it felt almost like a blanket in his arms, and holding it out to inspect and measure it against his hosts torso? It'd fit em like a dress going down to her knees. maybe even a little further.

So instead he rolls it up a bit, then ties it around his waist like how the teens would do with their hoodies.

And with that, he was off. Excitedly taking the stairs two at a time and trotting out the front door, before breaking into a run once he reached the sidewalk. Feeling the painful memory of his previous desperate limping lessen with having regained his freedom to move.

Sure the pants and shoes were not good for running, but he was so numbed to pain and discomfort, that this was like nothing to him in comparison to his current positivity.

What more had him enthralled right now was the novelty of how light his feet felt.

He was so used to moving with his considerable height and bulk, that moving with about one third of his usual weight felt totally different. Not having each step hit the ground with a thud, he almost felt stealthy, like a ninja or something.

And he noticed he didn't have to fight with the momentum nearly as much to turn as he changed his trajectory towards the park. This must be what it felt like to be nimble.

A light fog had rolled in, giving the park an eerie appearance with the added glow of the streetlights and the things in the distance slightly obscured.

Though Bob, still confident in himself being the scariest thing around, is completely unphased at the spooky atmosphere, as he excitedly jogs back to the bench he had snatched the woman from.

His new body could run much more easily than he was used to, but it still wasn’t exactly an athlete or anything. So he takes a moment to catch his breath as he slowed to a stop, then took a look around for witnesses. And finding none, he got back on target.

Now, he had grabbed her in front of the bench, then dragged her behind it and through the bushes.

So if he just retraces his steps and…

Bingo, there it is, caught in the bushes.

After untangling the bag from the branches, he eagerly rummaged through it, looking for a wallet.

Though first, with a curious expression, he comes across a set of car keys.

Oh right! She'd mentioned she had a car, since she offered to get him some towels from it.

And the keyring had a clicker on it too! Score!

All he'd have to do is go around pressing the lock/unlock button, and whatever car beeps is his new ride.

He shifts the keys to a pocket and continues to rummage until finding a wallet.

It was a large wallet, too large for a pants pocket, but opening it up, it was packed with 20s.

And man, Bob could already taste all the junk food he could buy with this.

Putting the wallet back in the bag, he pulls out the keyring and gets to searching. Heading towards the nearest parking lot, and quickly finding a small beige 2 door commuter car that responds to the clicker.

….Man, no way could he fit in that dinky little thing. It'd be like trying to get into a clown car, he'd be lucky if his legs could even work the pedals and…..

Oh wait, duh . He forgot. He's small now. This car literally belongs to whoever it is he's possessing right now. Of course they can fit in this bland looking machine you could just tell was built for fuel efficiency and not much else.

He opens the driver's door and takes a seat.

Man, he doesn't even have to adjust the seat back like he usually does when he gets in a car, it's already perfect.

He grins to himself as he sets the bag in the passenger seat and takes a moment to snoop around the car.

He didn't spot anything in the way of fun decorations, seemed like it was nothing but practical stuff like window cleaner, spare water bottle, window shade, ice scraper, umbrella, etc.

Though it was also fairly messy, with smudges on the glass, dust on a number of surfaces, paper trash on the floor, and a bunch of coins in the door and cup holder, but not to a overly uncomfortable degree of mess.

Like he didn't spot any rotting food or any particularly offensive smells in the vehicle.

Seemed like a pretty boring car for a pretty boring person.

Though having satisfied his curiosity to snoop, he didn't pay much further thought to stuff like playing detective. What kind of person the body he was currently commandeering was like wasn't really a topic he was all that interested in.

Especially not when he's got food on the brain.

Keys in the ignition, and as the engine purrs gently to life (a muscle car, this very much was not), he takes a second to consider what would be open 24 hours that he could swing through. Before he backs the car out and starts prowling the streets for lit fast food signs. Figuring since he has a car now, he could get some drive through. It’s not long before he finds a lit up sign of a 24hour Mickey D's.

His excitement soon reaching a fever pitch at the thought of actually being able to stomach food again.

Though forgetting once again that it wasn't his stomach he was using, after giddily ordering his usual from the unenthusiastic sounding worker, and then parking nearby.... He starts horking it down before he really even had time to think about it. His considerable pain tolerance letting him ignore as he quickly packs in more food than the small woman's body can handle.

Least until it gets impossible to ignore.

Bob having to sprint out of the car to go puke in a nearby trash can.

And then spend a moment feeling embarrassed for himself while sitting on the curb rinsing the taste outta his mouth with the help of a big soda.

Though he doesn't let it get him down for long, excitedly moving on to the next thing.

He'd been meaning to get some painkillers to deal with things a little better while the supernatural healing did its job fixing him. So that meant finding a pharmacy. Or at least something pharmacy adjacent.

And luckily he finds a place open for about another hour, plenty of time to get in and get out with what he needed. Bit of a general store plus pharmacy situation, so it should have the best stuff he could get his hands on without a prescription. Though he briefly considered robbery as an option to get the more intense stuff from behind the counter, but he quickly dismisses the idea. He doesn’t have much know-how in regards to medicine, so even if he got through the barricade, he probably wouldn't be able to know what he needed, let alone where to find it among all the shelves.

Bob wore a wide grin as he stepped through the sliding doors. It had been awhile since he'd been able to just walk into a place like this. Between 3 years of prison and then a few months on the run, he’d been a bit deprived of normal everyday activities.

He decides to savor this, walking around the aisles, glancing over magazines for a bit, looking over the snacks, and catching himself before he impulsively ripped open a bag of gummy bears.

He had money, he didn't need to shoplift, and he especially didn't need to draw attention to himself and waste such a perfect disguise.

He trots back to grab a basket to stock up with for snacks. Only to get distracted once again from his goal of getting painkillers, this time by a shelf of scented candles. The sweet smell being too much to resist despite the knowledge that these were candles and thus inedible.

He sets down the basket to sniff a few candles and…. Huh….

He takes one candle in one hand, and one in the other, comparing them.

Then looking at the labels to see the ingredients.

Neither of the candles smelled… Right?

He sets them down and tries with a third, finding the least complicated smelling candle he could see on the shelf with a plain cinnamon.

Still seemed off somehow. Are these just weirdly bad candles??

Actually, now that he stopped and thought about it, the food and soda earlier had been a bit weird too….. huh.

Bob, being a former cook and food obsessed individual in general, he'd built up a lifetime of skill picking out the subtleties of the taste and smell of different ingredients and spices. And that skill had then carried over to being able to pick out some of the nuances of stuff like perfumes and colognes as well. Especially once he had transitioned from a more opportunistic cannibalism into actively hunting people, and the various fragrances people might wear also got roped into his perception of food.

Which had then become an embarrassing problem when stuff like sandalwood soap got his mouth watering. Like being tempted to eat soap that smelled like cupcakes he could at least forgive himself for, as at least one out of those two things were normally edible. Or with cucumber soap. He didn’t particularly like raw cucumbers, but it was at least still technically a food.

But neither soap nor wood chips were food, so there was really no good excuse with that one.

But seemed like either those skills weren't translating to this new body, or what was seeming more and more likely as he compared more candle smells, whoever it was he was possessing simply had a worse sense of smell than he was used to.

It was an intriguing novelty in a way, and Bob felt a bit like challenging himself to better figure out exactly how things were different or what he couldn't smell.

"mam? …… Mam? Mam? Excuse me mam?"

Someone taps Bob on the shoulder. Oh right, he was a woman right now. They were talking to him. He pauses, places the candle he was holding back on the shelf then turns, looking up at a store employee with an unsettling grin.

Felt weird to look up at someone instead of down. He probably hadn't looked up at someone like this since he was a teenager.

"Mam, the store is closing, you've gotta take your things to the register."

Bob considers killing the employee.

Seems like they're here alone, and it would give him a bit longer to look around uninterrupted.

But as his hand twitches, considering going for his knife, he gets reminded he's missing his butcher belt, and that gives him enough lucidity to think things through a bit more carefully.

Eyes glance down at his empty basket, and he startles.

He forgot the candy!

Picking up the basket, he darts over to the snack aisle and speedily chucks a random assortment of candy and junk food in, before quickly making it to the front and slamming the overflowing basket on the counter.

His odd behavior gets a bit of a skeptical look out of the employee as they walk behind the checkout, but they decide against saying anything about it.

Quietly tallying up and bagging the snacks, taking the bills Bob puts on the counter, and giving him change.

Following Bob to the door, and turning off the motion sensor and locking the sliding doors behind him as he leaves.

Bob stows the bags in the minimal back seat of the car, but keeps and opens a bag of gummy bears to eat. This time pacing himself more to see if he could taste any difference between the different colors of candy, and to give him some time to think.

He's got a car, and got snacks, not too shabby.

It's getting late though, and there shouldn't be many more places open at this time.

And now that he thinks about it, he's feeling kinda tired. Now that some of the excitement has worn off, it's clear that whoever it is he's taken control of, seems like they might have had a long day at work even before all the excitement this evening.

He considers what he should do for shelter.

His usual hideout, his old house from before he was sent to prison, is over back in his home town on the other side of the forest.

Sure he had a car, but at this rate it would take him all night and well into the morning before he arrived.

Probably best if he takes a nap somewhere around here before he heads out.

He briefly considers the condemned house he stayed at earlier, but he hadn't seen any beds in that place, and even if there had been, they would have been dusty and moth eaten by now.

So he goes with the best choice he could think of. Turning the keys, he moves the car to a more secluded looking location, locks the doors, leans the seat back, and tries to drift off.

It ends up being more challenging than he was used to. Seemed this body wasn't the type to fall asleep easily. Or maybe too much sugar and activity, who knows. Either way it took about an hour before he finally drifted off.

Only to be rudely awakened not long after by the sound of an alarm.

Eyes blink open sleepily with a scowl, Bob reaching out towards the source of the noise, only for her eyes to snap open with a jolt of pain.

Bobs had instinctively tried to reach for the noise with his own arm rather than the woman's, and with his thick arm sticking out of her torso, he could feel all the pain in his cracked bones, damaged ligaments, and sore joints.

And the eyes of the woman looked at this sight with fear for a brief moment, before Bob quickly pulled his arm back in and the look on her face changed from shock to one of frustrated annoyance.

Rubbing the sleep outta one eye as he looks for the noise. It coming from the lady's messenger bag, and feeling around, he pulls out a smartphone, the display saying 6:30 am and "Work".

To hell with that, Bob isn't going to no goddamn job. Especially not at six freaking am.

He presses the big button on the screen and tosses the phone into the pile of food and stuff on the passenger seat beside him, and tries to go back to sleep, but just as he's getting comfortable, the alarm starts up again.

Letting off a loud groan, he sits up fully, and feels around for the phone among the leftover drive through food he hadn't been able to eat, soon finding it and giving a closer inspection to the screen. Looked like the big button was a snooze button, and the button to actually turn off the alarm was a smaller button below it.

A classic trick to pull on sleepy people.

He turns off the alarm, and groans again, rubbing her eyes and face. Feeling some soreness of the woman's neck, shoulders, and back protest at the movement.

Guess whoever this lady was, they weren't as young as they looked, because not sleeping in an actual bed really didn't agree with them.

He glances down at the phone in his hand again, he remembers that these smart phones can work as one of those GPS maps. Might help him get where he's going faster, since he was too delirious at the time from his injuries to remember what route he took to get to this town.

But after fiddling with it again for a minute, looked like it was locked with a passcode.

Dang.

He slumps back against the seat.

He really didn't want to drive anywhere right now. The sun wasn't even up yet, and if anything he felt more sleep deprived than he'd been before the nap.

More just looking to fidget for a moment, he grabs the woman's bag, drops the phone in, then sifts through its contents just to see if there's anything interesting. The day spent in her body making him a bit more curious about who it is he’s possessing exactly.

He takes out her big wallet and looks through it more closely. First checking her drivers license, doing a bit of quick arithmetic in his head to figure out, she must have been 32 years old. He'd been expecting younger, but on second thought, that was probably the height talking.

Being this short, he figures with the right outfit, and this lady could probably pass as a teenager.

He sifts through various cards in the wallet sleeves. Expired gift cards, a few punch cards for eventually getting a free drink or sandwich, membership card for a big box store, credit and debit card, basic stuff.

It's not until he gets to the back layers of the wallet that he finds anything with personality. A sparkly business card for some gem and mineral place, another with a dinosaur on it for some fossil place, and some sort of monster trading card? It must have been important to whoever this is, since it was in a separate plastic protective sleeve and everything. Maybe it’s a valuable collectors item or lucky charm or something.

And in a zip-pocket, instead of spare change, there were a bunch of uncommon coins, colorful shiny stones, and the squashed pennies you can get at tourist spots.

He pulled out and ran a thumb over a squashed penny that had a saguaro cactus on it.

Though not much fits in a wallet, so he quickly exhausts that distraction. So back to thinking what his next move should be.

Something occurs to him.

You know? If he wants somewhere to sleep, doesn't this lady have, like… a house?

Shit, it seems obvious in retrospect.

Though question is, where the heck does she live?

Wait! Oh yeah!

He pulls her wallet back out and checks the address on her driver's license.

…….Oh...... right. He's not familiar with this area. He has no idea what street this is.

Guess he can find out though. And it woulda been smart to get a map anyway before he heads back to his place.

He groans and stretches a bit, before starting up the car and heading to a gas station to get a map, get his bearings, and with a little asking for directions from a mailman, he finds the house.

He almost does a double take when he pulls up to it. It's a bigger house than he was suspecting. Secluded too.

Clear on the other edge of town, bordering a forest, and at the end of a long straight street with a wide berth between the nearest neighbors. One of those old upper middle class sort of houses, like what you might expect a successful lawyer in the 1930’s to have as a summer home.

He notices a garage door opener clipped to the sunshade in the car, and giving it an experimental press... the garage starts to open! So this is definitely the place.

He pulls into the driveway, taking a moment to roll down the window and look over the front of the house for a minute.

Mostly scanning the windows for movement in case there was anyone in the house.

After all, a house this big? He knew she had said before that she didn’t have any kids, but that didn’t rule out a boyfriend, roommates, or maybe an elderly relative she was looking after. Bob felt decently confident that if there were only a small handful of people in there, he had enough energy that he could catch them by surprise and slit their throats before taking the desired nap in an actual bed. Maybe even enough energy to butcher and eat one before getting some real shut-eye.

He also takes the moment to look over some of the details of the house more closely.

It was an old house, but not run down. Though not especially well maintained either. It’s clear from the weedy lawn and bare garden, along with the chipped paint and stains on the house itself, that whoever this woman was, they weren’t paying for a landscaper or any recent renovations or anything.

So he guessed, rich enough to own an extravagantly large house, but not rich enough for a gardener? Not seeing any movement through the windows he pulls into the garage, not bothering with closing the garage door behind him, and getting out of the car. A four car garage, nice. Though currently the garage only actually contained one other car. A big pick-up truck, expensive looking too. Or at least it would have been pretty top of the line maybe 10 to 15 years ago. But could still get a good price with resale.

Though it looked mostly unused. Both in the sense of not having much in the way of visible wear and tear, and with stuff leaned against it or in the way of the door that would keep it from being driven out of the garage without breaking stuff. The other 2 cars worth of garage space were filled with junk and yard care stuff like a mower and snow shovel. Though he notices some stuff for a dog. A big dog too, judging by the size of the dusty crate and old dog bed thrown in the corner.

He hadn’t considered encountering a dog.

A person should be easy to fool with possessing the womans body. Even if he doesn’t make for a convincing performance, almost no one would immediately jump to the conclusion of a supernatural invasion of the body snatchers style explanation for his weird behavior. But would a dog be able to sniff out that something was up? Bob looks around at the various tools and gardening implements along the wall. But not finding much in the way of sharp implements, he settles on grabbing a crowbar before he opens the door into the house, and quietly sneaks in.

No sound of an excited dog scampering towards him, and no voice or footsteps acknowledging his arrival, though either could have been notified of his arrival by the loud sound of the garage door opening.

He grips the crowbar a little tighter, and starts slowly and methodically searching through every room in the house for signs of life. Setting down the crowbar to trade for a knife when he finds the kitchen. And keeping his ears peeled for any noise besides the soft sound of his own footsteps.

But after stalking all through the house from the basement up to the third floor without so much as a peep, he stops for a moment to scratch his head thoughtfully. Really? No one else is here?

Sure it might be in many ways convenient to not have anyone around to have to deal with, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn't also a little disappointed at not having any unsuspecting meatbags he could make into an easy meal. Heading back downstairs, he takes a bit of a closer look at his surroundings.

There’s some really nice things around the house. Fancy furniture, fancy rugs, fancy ceramics, fancy taxidermy animals, fancy swords and spears and other weapons hung on the walls, decorative rocks, artistic pieces both old and modern, various treasures from around the world ranging from cheap knick knacks to expensive museum looking pieces… It felt like the place had gone through multiple generations of treasure hunters. Such that despite the size of the big house, it still seemed to struggle to have enough space to display everything. But It felt like a comfortable amount of clutter to Bob. Not like the sterile minimalism of many rich people houses he saw on the tv nowadays, but not a hoarder situation either. He could walk around without having stuff to trip over or bump into. Finding a few photographs over a fireplace and inspecting them for clues, he sees a young couple, some pictures of kids, pictures of a few elderly couples in front of the house, a few pictures of dogs….. Oh wait, that little girl in the photo is definitely a younger version of the woman he’s currently possessing. Which means the young couple are her parents, old people are grandparents, and the other kids are probably her siblings or cousins.

Must be an old family house she inherited. He wondered briefly if maybe the other people in the pictures were dead or something, maybe leaving a big family house to the only survivor of some “tragic accident” or whatever. Cus he definitely didn't get the feeling there was anyone else living here, and hadn't been for awhile. What with how unused a lot of the rooms he’d peeked in looked, and how there was only the one space in the garage for the little beige car that looked like it ever got any use. Though whether she’s on her own due to tragic circumstances, or if the other people just moved out and she stayed behind, the "being secluded" was what mattered.

And all evidence was pointing to this being a nice safe place to stay and recharge his batteries for an afternoon or so before he heads home. Shame he’s not affiliated with the more common criminal element though, cus if he had the right network for it, he could probably get a lot of money stealing and selling this stuff. But that’s one of the downsides of being a serial killer cannibal.

Even the criminals want nothing to do with you.

So looks like she’ll be keeping this fancy stuff to herself; at least until Bob can kill and eat her, then it’s finders keepers for any thief who can stumble on the house.

Heading back to the car, he grabs his snacks and leftovers and brings them to the kitchen. Putting most of it on the table, along with taking his red sweater off his waist to drop on the table. Before putting some of the more perishable food in the fridge, and taking the opportunity to see what she had in there.

Being pretty thoroughly lost in the distraction of snooping through this woman's stuff at this point. Especially as more things kept catching his attention.

It's almost immediately clear that this woman had a pretty specific flavor palette, and didn’t stock much in the way of general items for entertaining guests. Instead finding a frankly absurd excess of spicy stuff in the fridge.

In particular, both a half-empty gallon size jar of pickled jalapeno rings and a similarly large and half empty jar of those pepperoncini peppers that are often used in Italian restaurants or put as a garnish in take out pizzas. And then not just those peppers, but also having a few smaller jars of more expensive, and more spicy, pickled peppers.

He paled slightly at the thought of how many peppers she must be going through a day to have to buy them by the gallon. If he tried that lifestyle, he'd probably spend half his day, every day, stuck on the toilet.

But the pepper jars were just the most obvious tips of the spicy iceberg, because it seemed like nearly everything in the refrigerator that could be spicy, was spicy.

The salami? Spicy.

Cheese? Literally had ghost pepper written on the label.

Sauces in the door? Hot sauces, and even some sort of chili oil salad dressing he'd never seen before.

Even the jar of green olives were jalapeño stuffed olives instead of the usual red pimento you'd see in cocktail olives.

He half expected the gallon of milk to be some ridiculous pepper infused nonsense, but looked like that one was normal, thankfully.

His eyes kinda glazed over some of the veggie ingredients for salads like lettuce and carrots and such, but lingered on some of the stuff he couldn't easily parse, as there were quite a number of things that didn't have any English on their labels. Having either some kinda Japanese looking text, or some European looking language he couldn't parse. Though he could parse a few things based on shape or images on the packaging. Like soup stock, pickled meat, fruit juice, and some kind of dessert treat.

He already knew there were a lot of foreign knick knacks around the house, so he put 2 and 2 together and figured she must have spent enough time abroad to have developed some tastes that couldn't be satisfied with local cuisine.

The freezer carried on the theme of foreign foods with non-english labels, but now had an excess of frozen seafood of all sorts. Fish, shrimp, crab, clams, mussels, scallops, even some lobster.

The rest being mostly frozen fruits and dessert looking things (he'll be taking that tub of ice cream thank-you-very-much).

But shifting through the clutter a bit, something caught his eye.

A large plastic wrapped beef brisket. Well marbled, and all in all probably about 13 pounds of meat on its own.

Give it a day to defrost, and there's a lot he could do with that meat. More than the woman he's possessing probably could. She'd probably ruin it by turning the meat into some kind of 5 alarm spicy nightmare where all you can taste is your own tastebuds burning off. He'd practically be doing it a favor cooking it in a way where ya could actually taste the meat.

And looking around as he goes to grab a spoon for the ice cream, it’s a pretty nice kitchen here too. He could cook a lot more complicated meals here than he could at his place. Especially since his hideout didn’t have running water or reliable electricity. Maybe he should stick around for a few days and burn through the stuff in her fridge before he heads home.

Like he knows he'll need to get in contact with the cult at some point to get a new amulet made for him so he can start getting back to his previous levels of supernatural resilience. But judging how he'd woken up in the place where the cult dumps their unwanted corpses, there shouldn't be anyone in any big rush to find him. He's got plenty of time.

Though… sticking around would mean going out shopping at least once for ingredients. This woman had 7 different kinds of hot sauce in her fridge, but didn’t have any ketchup, mustard, or mayo.

Though… it’s not like he couldn’t go shopping now.

He's got a disguise, and he's got money, and he's got a place to put the things he buys.

Yeah this could be a good change of pace actually. Keep his head down for a bit. Maybe veg out and watch some tv.

He'd need to stock up on meat though if he were to really make the most of it, so he'd have to think about…

But his train of thought is interrupted by the ringing of a phone call coming from the womans messenger bag. He pulls it out to take a look.

He still couldn't unlock the phone, but the caller ID said it was her boss calling. And once the call went to voice-mail, he could see a number of notifications for texts from her workplace asking where she was and why she hadn't come in.

But it's not anything like family or friends calling that they're about to walk in the front door and surprise him, so he doesn't much care.

The people at her job will just have to be content with the notice they'll get on the evening news when he's done with her, that the butchered remains of her rotting body were discovered by some unlucky smuck and his dog or something.

Leaving the empty ice cream container and spoon on the kitchen table, he heads upstairs for the long awaited nap.

Only one of the bedrooms had actually looked lived-in, so he headed towards there. Though he stops with a trip to the nearest bathroom to brush his teeth first.

He'd always been a bit fastidious about dental hygiene, he kinda had to be with all the sugar he ate, or else he wouldn't have made it to his 40s and still had teeth. And he'd been able to maintain the habit pretty well through prison and his time on the run. And despite it not being his body he was using, he figured having a clean mouth would probably help him get to sleep easier.

And seeing only one toothbrush by the sink further confirmed his suspicions that this woman lived alone.

He briefly turns to try and look for a spare toothbrush to use, but quickly catches himself with a…

Oh, duh. This is her toothbrush, he's in her body, so this is his toothbrush.

Yeah, he's totally getting the hang of this "being a random stranger he grabbed off the street instead of himself" thing.

And with teeth and a bit of other business sorted, he heads to the bedroom full of nerdy looking memorabilia and a big unmade bed, kicks off his shoes, closes the curtains, and plops face first into the bed and….

Ohhhhhhhhhh shit. This isn't just any old mattress, this is an expensive mattress. This is the kind of mattress you'd have to drop about three months rent to be able to buy. No wonder this body found it so hard to fall asleep in the car, when it's used to this kind of luxury.

Or at least that's what Bob assumed at first, because it quickly became clear that even still, sleep wouldn't come so easy. But moving around a few pillows and snuggling under a blanket, he felt comfortable enough to not resent the wait.

Spending a bit of time to feel positive about how much things had turned around since yesterday before slowly drifting off.

The dreams that bubbled up were…. Weird.

Conflicting. Confusing. Surreal. A bizarre mich-mash of people Bob had never met before and places he'd never been overlapping with the familiar. One moment feeling like he's being interrogated by something vicious, the next feeling like something was trying to escape, but was caught like an animal in a glue trap.

Stretching and snapping things that had tangled around it like rubber bands, before retreating into the distance, though somehow still tugging at him.

Bob felt like he was on the other side of a street, a blue-green light swirling somewhere on the horizon.

He was wearing his red sweater and the red gloves of his devil costume, so he probably had his horns on too.

Seemed like there wasn't much else around besides the blue glow somewhere over there, so he starts heading towards it.

Only to feel with excruciating detail as he gets knocked to the ground and a car tire goes over his rib cage, snapping the bones one after another in quick succession like a gruesome xylophone.

Whatever uneasy semi-lucid equilibrium that had been reached in the dream falls apart in an instant, descending into a swirling overlapping chaos once again, but this time it's painful.

Unbearably painful.

He's dying. He knows he's dying. He's done it before, and the certainty only seems to make it all the more terrifying.

His emotional state feeling all the worse as he could feel some sort of second hand panic coming from a kicking and roaring thing getting pulled down with him.

Like he was tied to some sort of monster trying to hook talons into anything that will slow the descent of both of them, if that's what it takes to save itself.

And the more he fades the stronger it seems to get.

Until it turns and gets its hooks in him instead, a furious stubborn defiance hitting his brain like an electric shock, and it pulls.

He wakes up all at once in a cold sweat, taking a moment to catch his breath and get his bearings. The painful phantom limb-esk echo of the memory of his death, feeling mismatched on this smaller, differently shaped body.

He spends a few minutes trying to ground himself. Remembering recent events, and where, (and who) he was.

Looking over at the slight crack in the blinds, it was dark out now, he had slept through the whole day.

Throwing off the covers and scooting to the edge of the bed, taking deep breaths to try and dissipate the lingering panic of the nightmare, before considering his next course of action.

He probably should have expected weird dreams to be a side effect of using the amulets like this.

After all, weird dreams kind of went hand in hand with the eldritch powers the cult was messing with.

But it seems doubly to be expected in retrospect, since it was clear that part of the surreal jumble was probably a result of him and the person he was possessing having their dreams overlapping.

But this pain he felt was a jarring level of vivid.

During the actual event of his death, he'd had his amulet to help block out the pain. Not entirely mind you, it was still quite painful to get hurt that much, but doing its job well enough that getting back up after multiple times of getting shot and run over was plenty doable if one were stubborn enough.

But waking up in the gorge without this supernatural pain blocking?

He'd been given a more keen physical memory of the pain such an injury would entail.

And it's like his mind was going back in and filling in the blanks. Or perhaps unlocking memories that had been supernaturally suppressed.

Getting run over by a car would hurt quite a lot actually, and seems like the dream was looking to remind him of it.

He hoped this wouldn't be an every night sort of thing.

Probably best not to dwell on it though, so… distractions. Gotta figure out some distractions.

What was his agenda for the day? Or…uhhh… night he supposed.

Well…. He had been meaning to stock up on meat. And hunting someone down would be a good way to get his mind off things.

Yeah! He'll feel better with some of his favorite activities and favorite food!

And he'll be able to experiment with the fun novelty of trying to do what he does in another body! Won't that be something. He could use a good challenge.

He gets up and heads downstairs. Gathering up a few odds and ends to help with his hunting. Picking out a new knife and backup knife from the selection in the kitchen, and going over them a few times with a sharpener attached to a wooden knife block.

He couldn't find any easy handheld sharpeners, so he wouldn't be able to fidget with them like he does with his normal set, but this should be fine for now. He's not looking to go on a whole spree. One kill should be plenty.

Plus he should probably play this one extra safe anyways. Both because of needing to not blow his cover, and out of the risk that his current body, with its smaller stature and less effective at healing amulets, wouldn't be able to hold its own in a fight quite as well as he's used to.

So one person, and do it quick and discreet. No playing around with his food.

After trying to check the time, only to see that the clocks on the walls are stopped, and the digital clock on the oven is clearly wrong, he resorts to checking the woman's smart phone again. Looks like there'd been another call and texts from her work. But still nothing from family or friends, so that was good. And it looked to be about 7:40pm.

Man, he'd really slept the whole day away. Must have been more tired than he thought.

He leaves the phone on the kitchen table and loads up the beige commuter car with a few things.

He'd ended up stowing his weapons and tools in the messenger bag, since with the wallet being too big to fit in his pockets, he needed a place to keep it. But once he had the one thing he needed the bag for, it kinda snowballed from there and he figured might as well put everything in and then some. (The then some in this case being mostly snacks)

So guess he's a guy who carries a bag now.

Backing the car outta the garage, and he's back on the road again. Slowly driving around looking for people hanging out alone in secluded places, as well as just getting a feel for the landscape and its nooks and crannies.

Though at this time of the night, with no time to stalk any victims and learn their schedules, that really just left 2 reliable demographics to choose from.

Employees working the graveyard shift, or drunk single guys leaving the bars, overconfident in their ability to safely walk home at night.

And the employees usually had security cameras trained on em to keep the minimum wage workers from stealing or slacking off.

But likewise ready to bear witness to their brutal death.

So he looks for any bars that still had some activity going. Soon finding one that seemed pretty hopping, and parking on the other side of the street for some good ol fashioned people watching. Leaning back, grabbing some snacks from his bag, even putting the radio on for some tunes.

Patient, but eager for a good victim to reveal themselves.

Plus, he just rather liked people watching in general. It had been one of his main sources of entertainment back when he worked as a butcher/fry cook, and he'd only gotten better at it once he started stalking victims too.

So he didn't mind that it took awhile before he spotted his first candidate.

Some guy, walking alone, who didn't immediately head towards the nearest parking lot or wait out front for a taxi, instead shuffling down the sidewalk with an unsteady gait.

Perfect.

Bob let the man get some distance, before turning the ignition, and following in the car, parking it again a bit further down the road where it looked like the man was heading.

Then leaving the car, knife in hand but hidden from view behind his back, and leaned against a wall.

Fixing his target with an unsettlingly intense stare as the man came closer. Soon noticing the eye contact, and deciding to confront Bob about it.

Slurring,

"What'r you lookin at freak???"

Bob could smell the alcohol on the man's breath, and let's a slight pause hang in the air for a moment, before replying…

"Did you know… that the average human heart beats with enough pressure to squirt blood up to 30 feet?"

"Whuh?"

A flash of silver, and the man's throat was cut open. Bob quickly side stepping as the man's hands gripped his own throat in a panic, before turning the knife and stabbing into the man's thigh. Earning a startled gurgling noise of pain from the man, before taking another step further behind him to slice into the back of his legs to make extra sure he can't run, then gleefully stabbing into his back again and again.

The man only able to take about two steps before collapsing, having never even had a chance to scream, and Bob watching the life drain out of him completely with a manic grin.

The blood pooling on the sidewalk looking almost black in the dim light.

Now just to make himself scarce before anyone else comes this way, and cut up his prize.

Not having a belt to keep his stuff in, he stabs the knife into the man's torso to hold it, before grabbing the man's ankle and dragging him towards the car.

Not having the upper body strength to just pick up the corpse like he normally would, and instead having to really use his legs to help pull.

The man's corpse leaving a snail trail of blood as it scraped across the concrete.

Bob paused briefly to pull out the keys to pop the trunk and, oh hey towels! He remembered the woman mentioning those!

Guess they'll be getting some use after all.

And, plus, a little insulated cooler with some spare water bottles inside. That could come in handy.

Unfolding the towels for an added layer to help soak up the blood, the then hefts the body onto the edge of the trunk, and with another heave of the corpses legs, the body tumbles in.

Bob arranging it a bit better, and wrapping it up a little bit in the towels before shutting the trunk.

There had been a large top loading freezer in the basement of the woman's house he could use to store the uneaten parts of the man for a few days, so he was planning to butcher and keep more of the corpse than he usually would.

But he also didn't want to wait that long to have a taste, so rather than driving all the way back to the house, he instead drives to the closest edge of the town, and stops in a small secluded clearing by the side of the road.

A nice cool breeze and clear view of the moon and stars above him met Bob as he stepped out of the car.

Nice night. Would almost be like a picnic to go stargazing.

Though Bob didn't have time to dwell on it, he wanted a taste while the body was still as fresh as possible.

Popping the trunk, Bob yanked the knife out of the man's back, grabbed an arm, and started excitedly slicing through the skin, muscle, and tendons of the elbow to detach it.

Eagerly sinking his teeth unto the still-warm flesh, but finding this womans body didn't have quite the same bite strength as he normally took for granted, so he got help from the knife to cut off a bite sized piece.

Though as he chews, his expression of manic excitement slowly falls into something more like confused disappointment.

It didn't taste right.

No explosion of flavor tingling his mind. No complex and nuanced taste. No addictive urge to want to eat more and more of it like a big ol bag of chips. And no hungry pit in his stomach flooding him with satisfaction, however temporary, whenever it was filled with what he craved.

If anything, he felt a little sick. In fact he's been feeling a bit sick all afternoon. But with such a high pain tolerance, he hadn't really noticed until now.

Taking a moment to examine his feelings a bit closer, he could tell he still craved…. something.

The feeling of want also being something he was so accustomed to that he had let it go unexamined until now.

But, whatever it was he was craving… it wasn't this.

He nonetheless took another bite of arm, just in case anything would change, chewing thoughtfully as he tried to examine the flavor more closely.

A faint memory of a familiarity to beef crossing his mind as he chewed.

Which stopped him dead in his tracks, an offended look coming on his face.

Ex-fucking-scuse me???? Beef?!?

The closest animal meat to compare to human meat was pork . Did this woman really have such bad taste as to not even be able to tell the difference between beef and pork???

Good lord. To hell with this, looks like this is something he'll have to do by his own damn self.

Before Bob even has time to think, the leg he'd tried to stand on buckles, his fall disconnecting him fully from the woman he had been possessing, and he hits the ground hard with an unflattering scream, as his vision briefly goes white from the shock of blinding pain.

Ooooooohhhh fuck… he messed up.

He messed up BAD.

He hadn't healed at all since he possessed the woman yesterday. All he'd done was spend that time adjusting to the new body, and in the process lost most of his sense of being accustomed to the horrible pain he was in.

And now he'd just jumped right back into it like he'd carelessly done a cannonball onto what turned out to be a frozen lake.

Which shattered his bones hitting the ice, before the ice cracked underneath him anyway and dunked him in the freezing water.

The analogy of shock, freezing, and drowning being even more apt than it first appears, Bob feeling his dangerously low body temperature more keenly than he had before, body starting to shiver reflexively as once again he feels the delicate structures in his absent of organs fluid filled torso pop and snap from the impact of hitting the ground, and fluid starts leaking into his throat.

His vision returning just enough in time to blurily see the woman go limp, first dropping the man's forearm, then tipping towards the right, away from where he lay.

Hitting the side of the trunk, breaking her fall slightly, before the momentum rolled her off the car and falling in a heap on the grass beside the back tire.

He coughs reflexively from the fluid leaking over into his lungs, it having a more distinct taste of blood now than it had when he had been knocked down first catching the woman, along with more of a red tint to it.

Having burst a few new blood vessels that had been healing in his torso in preparation for regrowing his organs when he went down.

Bob instinctively turning over onto his side to help clear the fluid from his lungs before he suffocates, but the panic of struggling to breathe only adds to the stress of the horrible pain, teetering on the edge of a panic attack as his heart races and mind fogs even more.

He has to get back to his hostage, he has to shut the pain off!!

He tries to lift himself up, his arms shaking horribly as he tries to brace enough to get one knee below himself, but it's too painful, and his arm buckles before he can make it. Letting out a pitiful whine as the motion jostles his aching stomach.

He can't get up. He can't get up!!!!!

He tries to calm down enough to try again, but his panic spikes as out of the corner of his eye, he sees the woman sit up and clutch her head with a soft groan. Blinking as if coming out of a daze.

No NO NO!!!

If she can get away with the other half of the amulet still in her chest, he won't be able to possess anyone else until he tracks her down to retrieve it!

Damn it you stupid mangled hunk of meat, move !

He coughs up more blood laced fluid, reached his hand out, and dug his nails into the grass and dirt, dragging himself to turn and better angle himself to crawl towards her, but the motion draws her attention, startling her with a slight jump of surprise, her eyes going wide with fear as she takes in the sight of him.

The man who to her had just captured her moments ago, but now for some reason was crawling towards her with a crazy look in his eyes while bleeding profusely from the mouth.

She quickly gets to her feet in alarm, she has to act fast.

Looking left and right, she tries to get her bearings quickly as possible. She seems to be outside somewhere she doesn't recognize.

Hey wait, this is her car!

She dashes to the passenger side, finding the door unlocked, and she practically leaps in, pressing the door button to lock it behind her, and shifting a seat over to the driver's side.

Where are the keys????

Her messenger bag is in the passenger seat, that's where she normally keeps her keys.

Frantic, she snatches and dumps it into the seat.

Why is her work bag suddenly full of knives and junk food????

Her panic rises as she hears the clicking of someone trying the door handle beside her.

Trying to speed things up, she clicks the overhead light on and sifts through the bag's dumped contents more frantically, but still not seeing any keys.

But from the door beside her,

Wumph…. Wham, WHAM! SMASH!!!

She turns in time to see a hand bust through the window with a shower of glass, holding….

Is that a pepper grinder?!??!? What??? Of all the things to use as a hammer.

The big hand drops its tool into the car, before reaching down and unlocking the door. Simultaneously using the handle from the other side to open it, revealing the terrifying looking giant man.

Still clearly not doing well.

Not upright but having tried to use the car to brace himself and get to his feet a little bit.

And his face, he looked furious, but also horribly sick, with pale sunken features and his own blood smeared all down his chin.

And unsettlingly, his blown out pupils were an inhuman reflective blue-green.

"DON'T YOU RUN FROM ME!!!!"

His roar sprayed flecks of blood as with some effort he hefts himself through the open door, trying to climb onto the seat.

And scrambling backwards, she opens the passenger door and turns to try and escape through it, but with his long arms he's able to snatch her ankle at the last moment.

Pulling her back into the car and towards him, intending to drag the both of them out the other side.

She grabs whatever handhold she can to keep from getting pulled closer. Though remembering the knives that had been dumped from her bag into the seat, she lets go with one hand to feel around beneath her until she feels the handle of a knife.

Swinging it around, she stabs it into the arm holding her ankle, making the man yipe like a dog, but he doesn't let go.

Come on, she thinks to herself.

Be smarter about this, if you can sever the correct tendons, his grip will break.

She yanks the knife out, then tries more of a slicing motion, hoping that a longer diagonal cut would have a better chance to hit more vital connections, but she can only get one more swipe in before his other hand comes up and grabs her wrist.

With both a wrist and ankle caught, her grip with her remaining hand breaks when he tugs.

Adding his weight into the motion as he slides out of the car, falling onto his back and pulling her into a tight bear hug to keep her arms pinned. Her legs not able to get a good angle to kick him.

And as he tightens his grip, she starts to sink through his skin.

That gets her panicking.

Holy shit, the thing from before, it was real!!!

Instinctively, like she was trying to fight drowning, she tried to keep her head above water.

But a big hand grabbed the top of her head, and shoved her in.

Bob let his arms fall to his sides, taking a few deep breaths.

He hadn't had the time to question it, but looks like the amulets can work both ways, and she can sink into him too.

He can… still feel her in there.

But he's too hurt to want to examine this any further.

He sinks into her. Retaking control of her body.

Rising to a seated position, he puts his, or rather her head in her hands, feeling stressed and ashamed at his mistake.

He'd almost lost all his progress with one careless mistake. He could kick himself.

And moreover….

He'd been spending time goofing off instead of getting his strength back. His real body hadn't healed at all in the time it had spent stored… wherever it went when he took control of his hostage.

Which means he'd have to be out of the woman and suffering through the pain if he wants to fix things. And he'll have to keep the lady somewhere secure until he needs the body.

Rubbing his hands down his face…. Her face.

You know that was another thing. He kept tripping up considering her body as his. If he keeps that up, he might get so distracted he forgets all about healing his real body until it's too late.

And who knows how that could go wrong. He almost didn't want to think about it.

But he's not gonna make any progress hanging around here.

He gets up bitterly. Going around to the back of the car, picking the arm off the ground and tossing it in the trunk.

Before pulling out the mini cooler, emptying it of the water bottles, and grabbing hold of the rest of the corpse, pulling it out and unwrapping the towels.

He figured he'd start the butchering out here, so he'd have less of the inedible bits to dispose of by the house where they could start to stink and rot.

Going back to the car, he grabs some knives and a cleaver, and brings em back to the corpse. Getting to it.

Opening the chest, removing organs. Dumping some on the ground, and putting some in the cooler for later. Deciding to remove the head and leave it behind too. Taking the cleaver to chop it into more manageable segments and help the meat drain faster, before rinsing the meat some with the water bottles, putting it back in the trunk, dumping the parts he was leaving behind in some bushes, and rinsing himself off as well. Leaving the empty bottles as litter.

Checking his pockets and realizing the keys were missing, he takes a minute to retrace his steps to try and find em. Soon picking them up outta the grass beside the trunk of the car.

Must have fallen out of her pocket when she collapsed. If they had stayed in her pocket, he probably would have lost her.

Bob cant help but feel feel bitter about how close she'd come to escaping as he gets in the car and drives back to the house.

Continuing to act a bit robotic and just going through the motions as he pulls in the garage and starts unloading.

Stewing in being upset at his evening being spoiled and trying to get everything done without his usual enthusiasm to avoid getting distracted and kinda punish himself for carelessness.

He better prepares the meat in the kitchen, setting up for different kinds of meals and to avoid freezer burn, and splitting the kill between the kitchen fridge and the big freezer downstairs.

Taking a moment as he works to consider what he should do for his current situation with not being able to eat solid foods.

Spotting a blender, he figures making a meat smoothie might be about as good as he could get under current circumstances.

Maybe throw in some painkillers and crush those up and….

…..Shit.

He only ended up getting snacks at the pharmacy. He forgot to get the painkillers.

He heads upstairs, and opens the medicine cabinet in the most lived in looking bathroom, rummaging through various bottles.

It seems suspiciously bare of first aid or medicines. Making him wonder if maybe she's keeping things somewhere else. But there is a bottle of aspirin.

Probably better than nothing.

There's also something that looks prescription, in one of the orange pill bottles.

Had some fancy name he couldn't recognize and not much in the way of description for what it does, so he doesn't chance taking it for himself.

Wait….. this says a pill a day, this is the woman's house, he's in the woman's body.

Has he gotten her off her medication in the time he'd kidnapped her?

He feels a twinge of unease on top of his current stress.

What if this leads to something life threatening enough to make her sick or even kill her before he's done?

Or worse, lead to her dying while he's actively possessing her.

He's reminded of the vivid dream of his own death from last night.

The thought of potentially adding another painful and unpleasant memory to make into nightmares like that one made the unease build even further.

He looks over the bottle and its instructions carefully. Even checking the date to make sure it wasn't expired or maybe something left behind by a guest sleeping over months ago.

It was recent, about half used already, and all signs pointed to this being the woman's medication.

Not wanting to risk it, he has her body take a pill according to the instructions, before putting it back and heading downstairs with the bottle of aspirin for himself.

Grabbing the jug of milk from the fridge to go along with the aspirin and the meats from his latest kill for this unholy protein shake.

With some disappointment, he adds some of the best organs and cuts of meat to the blender.

He woulda preferred to be able to savor em, but he can't afford to be picky now.

Starting up the blender with a loud grind as the aspirin pills were pulverized and mixed with the meat, then steadily adding in milk over the meat as needed for a liquid base, and the nasty looking red-pink slurry was done.

Popping the top off the blender, he sticks in a reusable straw he'd found with the cutlery, and tries a sip.

Oof, yep, wow, you can really taste the aspirin.

Ugh that's nasty.

Maybe it'll taste better with his own mouth.

Be able to taste the meat more.

But that's the first thing situated, now he's gotta think of how he's gonna play out separating from the woman. Figure out that puzzle.

He needs a place to put her, and to be able to trap her there without the pain of returning to his broken body giving her a good chance to run.

Come to think of it, he probably should have thought to pick up some sleeping pills at the pharmacy when he had the chance too.

Would really make this easier on him if he could just knock her out until the healing has a chance to catch up.

But this is what he gets for being so out of practice with kidnapping.

Last time he really had to bother with taking someone alive was with kidnapping sacrifices for the cult, and even on top of his three year prison stint where nothing much could get done, it had rarely been something he participated in even when he had the opportunity for it. Least beyond being some added muscle to help carry struggling tied up people from point a to b.

But even during his time working closely with the cult, he'd generally been a take no prisoners type.

So actually containing and guarding someone so they don't escape… without gruesomely hurting them?

Yeah it had been awhile.

He briefly considers the basement, but dismisses it just as quickly. He wanted to make this as easy on himself as he could, and walking up and down the stairs when he'd just recently been struggling to even stand up?

No-way ho-say.

So that ruled out the upstairs too.

He settles on setting up in the garage.

Making some space by parking the commuter car in the driveway.

Getting a chair and some rope for the woman, a more sturdy looking chair for himself, and setting up the smoothie by his chair along with a few other things he might want returned to him once he's back in his old body. Like his sweater and salt/pepper grinder.

Plan is to take a seat in arm's reach and keep an eye on her while he drank the smoothie and waited to heal.

Though a twinge of excitement returns to him with the thought of how he could spook her with threats of what he'll do to her if she tries escaping again.

And as for trapping her, since the amulet stuns her for a little bit whenever he gets in or out. If he just goes in reverse order from when he untied her the first time, he should be able to tie her up and get out of her body without her having the time to regain consciousness.

Though he feels a bit more hesitant than he's used to for actually setting his plan into motion. He's more used to just doing stuff without much standing around stressing over things.

Maybe all this has him spooked too?

He has to fight with himself a bit to start the process. Sit down the woman's body, and start tying her up as much as she can manage with her own hands. Before he lets her go limp, bringing his own aching arms out of her torso, and tying what he can with his real arms. Fumbling a bit with things from the discomfort, though the most painful parts of himself were in his torso and legs, so he does alright.

Pulling everything back and retaking control, struggling against the bonds to test if she would be able to wiggle free when she woke up.

As well as resetting the clock for the minute or so he'd have before she starts waking up.

Seemed like everything was holding.

He turns his anxious gaze to the other seat in front of him.

All he has to do is get out, and stay steady enough for a few seconds to sit in that chair. Should be plenty doable.

Just don't fuck this up.

Carefully, he brings his arms back out first to try and brace himself, the woman's body going limp, before bringing out his less damaged leg. It shifting out of the woman's own leg so that his foot would already be on the ground.

Carefully, he puts his weight onto it and tries to stand, pulling his hips and torso out of her body. The unbearable pain returning as those parts of him rematerialized.

But with a bit of momentum, he's able to lean forward, disconnect from the woman's body, and catch himself on the other chair.

Carefully turning around and taking a seat.

Success!

Though he can't be exactly enthusiastic about it. Even sitting disagreed with his body. Putting his weight on what felt like hairline fractures in his hips and spine.

And the awful wrong body temperature chill was back, and he realizes that his mouth still had a lot of blood and fluid lingering in it. And his... his pants and shoes are still moist? From all the way back when he cleaned up in the park bathroom? Guess there wasn't really anywhere for it to go when getting stored, and he hadn't spent long enough outside of the hostage to dry out. Though the cold was the more pressing matter.

Despite the protest of his body, he slowly and delicately puts his sweater back on, at least it had the chance to dry unlike the rest of him. And uses the sleeve to wipe the blood that had leaked and coughed out of his mouth and lungs, and picks up the blender container. Not having bothered to transfer his concoction from the blender to a cup, just sticking a straw in the top. And with a wince, he closes his eyes and takes a sip.

He's in too much pain to really even register the taste of it, focusing only on how the slurry felt as he swallowed it into his empty abdomen.

It felt painful and unnatural as the lukewarm paste leaked into where his stomach should have been. But a warmth spread from it, so he knew the healing was using the new materials to start to repair things around it.

Give it a bit of time, and hopefully soon things can start getting into his bloodstream and healing around his body more generally.

Blinking tiredly, he checks the woman. Seeing that she was starting to stir. He bites back a noise of pain, trying to give himself a bit more time alone by not rushing her to wake up.

He should probably put on a bit of a show so she doesn't pick up on how much he wants to just curl up somewhere and cry right now.

But with her near escape, the cat's mostly out of the bag already. But if he can play it off, he can still probably bluff his way into looking more put-together than he is. Especially with the right threats.

Even just recognizing him from the news is often enough to paralyze someone with fear.

Yeah, what's he even worrying about, he's never been a worrying about things kinda guy. He's got this.

And if it turns out wrong he'll just improvise something like he normally does.

Meanwhile, she had regained consciousness.

But having felt bindings on her chest and limbs, and remembering being kidnapped, tied to a chair, and having some supernatural shit happen with a large disheveled man putting a gold thing in her chest, she decided not to open her eyes yet.

If she had passed out, and her body hadn't been damaged in the time it took to wake up again, then it was probably a safer move to play dead for a little bit to get her bearings and wake up fully before she attracts attention to herself.

Running over events in her head, before examining things as much as she could without moving or opening her eyes. Feeling where the bindings were on her body and the absence of a gag this time, concrete floor beneath her feet, the shape of the chair being different from the last one she was tied to, and that she felt sweaty and dirty.

So time must have passed between now and when she was last conscious.

Checking the smell and temperature of the room, which seemed cold and musty, before listening closely for any clues about her whereabouts, or anyone else in the room with her.

Hearing the shuffling of fabric in front of her, and the soft sound of breathing. Sounded like someone was right in front of her.

Which means they might pick up on her faking things if she gets too obvious or if they're observant enough, so she tries to collect the rest of her thoughts and brace herself for whatever horrible thing comes next.

Her final plan being that if she can pretend to be more dizzy, scared, and naive than she is, it might help give her an opening by being underestimated.

Trying to look weak and dizzy, she slowly blinks her eyes open. Meeting the gaze of the man in front of her. Same one that kidnapped her last time…..

Wait.

Trying to be subtle about it, she looks past the man, to the stuff behind him.

That's her stuff. This is her garage.

He was somehow able to track down where she lived. Or maybe he knew before he kidnapped her?

He didn't act like he knew her, but he had acted like she should know who he is.

Not enough data to make any good inferences yet, but she adds the new information to her mental list.

Main thing is she's not dead yet, and she has to figure out why that was, and how to keep on living.

Whatever it takes.

#spooky month #bob velseb #possession #fanfic #yandere #spooky month bob #inner demon #au #bob x oc #tw:#gore #death #cannibal #manipulation

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