FORBIDDEN STICK
It’s the question of the hour.
We want to know.
Who has the forbidden stick?
It is important to realize that this is not a plaything or some cool relic to hoard as a souvenir. If you have the stick, please return it immediately.
Camp season has ended and the stick is missing, no longer resting over the wide bookcase at the back of the lodge. No longer protecting us.
We hope you had a good summer. We hope you recognize the value of a sturdy canoe and have taken to it as your primary mode of transportation. We hope the chip injected into your left temple is whispering songs we sung together every night at campfire. We hope you never forget them. We hope you are following it’s instructions.
But amidst all the fun, all the green cloaks, all the dinner parties with the King, our forbidden stick was stolen. You do not understand the consequences if we are not to get it back.
It must have been before lunch on a Tuesday. The last week of camp before close. Our cameras show a ragtag group of teens split off from the ceremony. Apparently able to move by themselves without vocal order from the King. A result of their chips suspiciously malfunctioning. How rude and inconsiderate.
They carried themselves away and into the lodge. The scrawny one emerged with the stick behind his back. The others followed, giggling as he tossed it to them back and forth. Our artifact. A delicate thing. They weaved their way through the King’s dance. Avoiding the grasping hands of our green cloaks and escaping to the parking lot.
That is when they vanished. In thin air.
It took us three months to track them down. Each had somehow adopted a new identity. Each seemed to suffer some level of memory loss. We took them back into our custody. We fixed their broken chips. We thought this would be simple. But no.
The stick is still missing. And while our thieves are now more productive members of the Floodpain family, none can tell us what happened to it.
So we are asking you. You, the reader.
Please contact us through the Golden Report is you have any information on a gnarled, twisted stick, approximately six feet in length and slathered in a bright, aqua teal paint. Winds are already shifting, changing. The air tastes acidic. The underbelly is groaning. Camp Floodpain is losing the stronghold.
Return the stick.
Or suffer the complete upending of time and space as we know it.
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Goretober V: Intes-tangled
GUTS BABY IT'S ALL ABOUT GUTS THEY WANT ME TO DO IT FUJIMOTO WANTS ME TO DO IT @coyotehusk WANTS ME TO DO IT GORETOBER IS POWER
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Ingredients: GORE, body horror, somethin nasty in the mouth
As much as Castys hated the feeling of Kuro touching his bare stomach, he’d take it over what he knew was coming next. Her hand was cold because she was just always cold, which he guessed came with the whole whatever-she-was package, so it was a little added discomfort on top of the person touching him discomfort and the person touching an area he really didn’t like being touched in discomfort. And even then, this was way better than what that knife was about to do.
A quick slice, and then in went Kuro’s hand, digging around in his gut as he whined a little bit because he couldn’t fucking help it it hurt and it was uncomfortable and now she was ripping out his intestines and just sort of draping them haphazardly over his torso all wet and slick and sticky with blood and he would very much rather they stayed inside him but no one had ever cared what he wanted especially concerning his own damn body so whatever hooray here comes the knife towards his throat-
Coming back to life was…yeah.
He’d expected this, but it was still one of his least favorites. Whenever he died and his intestines were outside of him they’d just…stay out there. Kuro’d pulled a lot of them out, more than he’d ever had stuck outside of him before. He’d always thought they looked funny, like sausages with yellowish ribbon things attached to them, but that didn’t mean he was happy to see them or anything.
Kuro, however, was. “I’m glad this worked,” she said as she ran a hand along his guts. “Does it hurt?”
“No,” Castys sighed, glad for that one positive. “It just feels…weird. Really, really weird.”
Of course, the most logical thing to do next was make it even weirder. She released the straps over his wrists and tied them together with, you guessed it, his own guts, which sure was a feeling. They were warm and rubbery and thick and he could probably wiggle out of them given some time, but he doubted he was going to get that chance any time soon. But, hey, Kuro was letting him up off the table completely now, so that was nice, even if she was pulling him up by tugging on the intestines tied to his wrists.
Kuro hummed as she looked him over. Castys was just standing in front of her like a good little boy because this whole experience was already horrific enough without his struggles yanking on the worms coming out of his stomach. “I feel like you need a little something more.”
“I could go for a candy stick.”
That got a laugh out of Kuro, but he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. “That does give me an idea.” Okay, nope, not a good thing at all, he took it back, he did not want his intestines looped around his neck like the worst collar ever, and he especially didn’t want- “Come on now, open up, Castys! You wanted something tasty, right?” Castys shook his head. Organs were not tasty, especially not his own. As usual, though, it was an unwinnable battle, as Kuro’s hands pried his jaw open before long and shoved a section of intestine in. He bit down on it a little on accident in his efforts to keep his mouth closed, so now his mouth was full of the taste of blood and acrid nastiness unlike anything he’d experienced before. Coupled with the sensation of soft, rubbery flesh on his tongue, it was most definitely the worst thing he’d had in his mouth ever, which was saying a lot.
“Aww, don’t cry, Castys,” Kuro hummed as she stroked his face. He wasn’t crying he-he’d just teared up a bit because of the awful taste and texture. “I think you look cute like this, all tied up and gagged with your own intestines.” She tugged on the ones wrapped around his wrists, forcing to stumble forward towards her. All he could really do was glare in annoyance and try not to focus on what was in his mouth or the pressure around his neck or the slight pain in his stomach as she tugged on his guts and instead focus on…on…he couldn’t really think of anything good to focus on.
Ultimately, he decided to just let his mind go completely blank for the remainder of however long this hell was going to last.
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