https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/ Wed, 13 May 2026 03:03:29 +0000 MyBB https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-976.html Tue, 10 Feb 2026 07:20:01 +0000 skinstealer]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-976.html IMPLOSION
AKA: The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known Post-Escaping The Mass


INTRODUCTION


[image description: a tall cartoon cat, known as a TCP, made out of slime and waving at the camera.]

hello to folks reading this both new and old to our situation- we're Mortis Velasquez, a plural person and one of the co-founders of the forums you're looking at as we speak. since this is going to be linked on socials and might be the first time people have engaged with our work, i'll try to keep the first part brief. 

as of this post we are 29 years old, and have been an artist posting on the internet since we were 16. our first interactive project, Tiny Cat People: Void Session, is where we really got our start. it was hosted on TGchan and it was kind of. a point of stress.




...it still is. please do not ask us about that without us talking about it already lol. 

with that project came the community and team us and our wonderful husband and co-founder Comorant brought together- Homebrew Deviants. we had been working on the universe of Morbit together since we were 13 year old roleplayers on Scratch, always hoping that someday we could make our characters and ideas into something other people could experience. 

and now people do! and have for the past ten years, alongside a pile of really awesome friends both on HD staff and in the community itself. and for how much we've done re: worldbuilding and narrative projects, it's not bad for a decade. 

it hasn't been easy, though. 2025 was our first real return to public posting after years of debilitating PTSD over social media and being a public figure under surveillance and exacerbated by life situation after life situation after life situation-





everything kind of congealed.



we knew ourselves as 100+ system members, which is a lot of guys. people never really got to know everyone, we never really got it all down, not in a way the people around us (or even ourselves) could even learn. as pressure was put on us from external factors, we found ourselves increasingly hard to tell who was who, and not in a good way. 

we felt like we had lost our identity entirely. for months, particularly during a 6 month period of homelessness, we felt like we had become nothing but a mass of body parts and fragments, all lumped together in some kind of jellied Mass. existing in that state felt forced, like pressure outside of ourselves kept us 

and of course, it couldn't hold. as we began to settle into our new permanent living situation, we got immediately and increasingly sick as parts began to crawl out of the mass, establishing themselves as individuals. made of the same components, the same chunks of organs, memories, etc- but largely put together "different".

due to how volatile it felt, how fast it onset, the only term that felt right was The Implosion. 

what with everyone's memories, feelings, and associations being a patchwork disaster, we had to scramble to figure out who was who, how people felt about our life, each other, our friends and loved ones, our work- everything. 

existential crisis doesn't really cover it. 

it's been over a year since the Implosion, and we're still fucked up over it. social pressure to not have such a drastic change be so public- especially when a specific guy in here was known as the "face" and no longer is Despite The Fact We Keep Getting Called Him Anyway!!!!- kept us from really opening up.

what if people refused to learn the new roster?

what if people thought "eh, too complicated!"

what if people treated us worse than they did before?




would we even be able to exist in this new state as a known presence?





last summer, we started being a known presence again.

it went well. even with some pretty rough spots, it became clear that people did in fact want us around, and to experience our work- to get to know us. we ended up developing a lot stronger bonds with our friends, and getting a broader, more stable support network.

and yet we still struggled! even now, most people who we're most close to don't know who the hell is who outside of a few faces, which is the exact thing we want to avoid! god forbid, barely ANYONE knows outside of that immediate circle to begin with!

but then we came up with an idea. 

in a lot of structured groups, especially things like group art therapy, participants are given a simple exercise with simple tools to help introduce themselves. we kept thinking too broadly- while everyone here has some kind of "form"/sona/whatever the hell you want to call it, the idea of explaining those is daunting and freaks some of us out. besides, stuff like second life avatars are a lot harder to pin down for 40 bespoke guys. it's too much pressure to get graphics and models and etc for!

but what if we were to give everyone the same basic tools in Second Life- the Basic Typeless TCP avatar pack, vanilla, no addons- and tell them to make some kind of self representation with that? everyone would be on the same playing field, and if asked to do a little writeup of their introduction and why they chose what they did...well, that'd be a pretty good baseline! and it'd be easy enough for new brainguys, too.

but, that's not a full picture, is it? that kind of thing takes time and self discovery, and never really ends as a process. how could we emulate that?

the nice benefit of Second Life is that avatars take on new parts and traits and pieces over time. you can put them together and adjust piecemeal, and our avatar systems we've designed have been optimized for that in particular. 

why not go through the kits one at a time and let people choose what to add? what sort of things they want to try, like adding a new bit of clay or accent to their art therapy starting point? and, of course, they get to run around SL in that, or make art, renders, etc-

a way to be known. no one more important than anybody else. 

we managed to get all of the starting avatars done up and rendered last night in 6 hours. this first post will introduce you to our system as it stands now, complete with the avatars we made. here we go. 

 

---

LEVEL 1: BASIC BEGINNINGS

going in alphabetical order. let's go. assume everyone here is some weird degree of queer/genderfluid man unless otherwise specified.

---

[image description:  a soft looking blue TCP, stocky and glancing to the side with cute, wet-looking beady eyes. ]

 

---

ATLAS
She/Her
hi, i'm atlas and i uh. really like fish, particularly extinct sea life, and i've been likened to the crying cat meme image way too many times- appearance-wise, at least. my TCP to start is a lot more simple, though...which is fine, because it gives me time to figure stuff out. i like being bulky and soft looking, and tend to gravitate to blues and yellows. having the ears on my TCP droop a little bit feels comfy to me, and i guess i couldn't resist the beady eyes. i wasn't exactly expecting to be first up, but i guess that's how the alphabet works ;_; 
hope that does it good enough

---

[image description:  a tall black TCP with distinctly neon pink eyes, posing as if ready to dance at any moment.  ]
 

---

AUX
She/Her
i'm AUX and i am a split really centered around high school and stuff like our relationship to furry rave culture (many such cases with people our age, i know.) i like my name in all caps and i like blasting stupid music really loud. my TCP is not actually pitch black, but our reshade filter does that and i kind of like it? i plan on adding more neon accents as i go, but this kind of lanky look should be fun for putting funky clothes and accessories on. optimized towards renders or some shit

---

[image description:  a large red TCP with ears fashioned into wedge-shaped horns, strolling along on a leisurely adventure. ]
 

---

BEIGE BOX 
He/Him
i'm Beige Box, though just Beige works usually. my avatar here doesn't really convey why i'm called that, but it's meant to be a sort of dragon-like TCP with the limited part set i have to start with. my name comes from the term beige box- if you've seen those old 90's-early 2000's PCs, the ones that well, come in beige, that's a term frequently used. i resonate heavily with the old and sickly Dell PC we had growing up running Windows Me, and i'm hoping to build up this avatar with more features that remind me of my favorite custom desktop theme- where the "my computer" icon was a dragon. 

---

[image description: a white TCP with large, batlike ears lounging exaggeratedly, unimpressed with this interview.  ]
 

---

BELUGIOS
She/Her or He/Him depending on mood
i'm belugios, though belu will be fine in most cases- i only ask that you don't call me feminine terms unless you're como or from my own system, as the she/her moments are more of a fun occasionally femme dressup thing and i'd like to be seen as a man either way! i love horror and in particular vampire media and imagery, so my TCP is pale as hell and likely going to be decked out in gothic fashion. i should know, i've already made piles of it for SL and am glaring at the queue for this exercise so i can make her stop being fucking naked. goddamn tragic.

i also have a notorious lack of filter, so forgive me in advance for being crass. i can and will say the most awful things out of anyone here.

---

[image description:  a thick, dull red TCP sitting down casually, yet looking exhausted ]
 

---

BLIGHT
She/Her
i haven't talked much to anyone in-system, so i guess this is an intro to them too. i'm blight, and i don't have a lot figured out yet, but i'd like to. my avatar looks a little rough around the edges from posture alone, and i'd like to make her feel...weathered, but dependable.

that's something i want for myself, too. someone people can rely on.

---

[image description:  a stocky, brown TCP seemingly irritated at something off camera. ]
 

---

BUSHNELL
She/Her

i'm bushnell, one of the first to crawl out of the Mass and local weird carousel horse thing. i wanted my TCP to be big and bulky and able to throw down if needed- do no harm (probably) and take no shit type deal. i'd like to get some leather on her ASAP. funny that i'm going after blight, because i think we're going to get along, lol. 

---

[image description:  a dull pink TCP explaining something to someone off camera, and looking mildly tired of it. ]
 

---

CAPSULE
She/Her
wow three bitchy she/her mascs in a row. i'm capsule, and i'm the local doctor of the system, or however you'd put it. i definitely want to go into the medical horror angle, and make my TCP...very uncomfortable, in a way that makes Me comfortable. i have no idea if that makes sense, especially because she's just kind of a weird pinkish starting point. time to mesh a weird scalpel or something????

---

[image description:  a square-ish red-brown TCP deep in thought, seemingly not noticing the camera. ]
 

---

CASHMERE
He/Him
i'm cash, though cashmere works okay too. i'm more private and reserved than a lot of the others, though i'd like to front more in general. staying inside all day feels weird and unpleasant, even if i'm nervous sometimes. i'll be honest, this avatar pulls a lot from my system form, at least in terms of ear placement and build when i'm not a mantis taur. i imagine the bug factor's going to increase from here. 

---

[image description:  a gangly white TCP contorting to seemingly push against the camera, overly curious as to what's on the other side. ]
 

---

CHARADE
It/Its



[further poking for a response was not helpful]

---

[image description:  a sleepy green TCP with large ears, distinctly camera-shy. ]
 

---

CONSTELLAR
He/Him
uhh
i don't really do good with the whole talking thing so you can call me constell if you want and my TCP is a bat Okay Bye i will do better blurbs next time

---

[image description: a tall, classy looking red TCP with an even, low gaze. she's definitely looking down on you.]
 

---

COUNTER
She/Her
i'm counter, and i plan on making my TCP elegant in a way that will make scapula specifically flustered. he's glaring at me for even saying this in public but it's fine! he'll have to deal with it. 

---

[image description: a very small and chubby lime TCP, his eyespots pink and yellow and ears particularly nubbly.  ]
 

---

CRUSH
He/Him
i'm crush and i am perpetually really Really anxious and panicky so i'll be quick too i guess! i like 2000's knicknacks and stationary and Lisa Frank style stuff, especially weird little green martians. kind of going for that here.

---

[image description: a large green TCP with an almost crest-like feature on his head, excitedly posing for the camera.  ]
 

---

CURIO
He/Him
I'm Curio and I'm really happy to talk publicly for the first time! I don't front much at all, or haven't gotten to yet I guess, but I love dinosaurs, rocks, museums, the works! My memory ain't great post-Implosion on any of these topics, but i'm looking forward to researching more. My av is kind of going for a light-Parasauralophus thing, as that's my favorite dinosaur!

---

[image description: a large, soft looking seafoam TCP, glancing around peacefully.  ]
 

---

FISHBEAW
He/Him
Hello! I'm "Fishbeaw", though none of us are really sure if that's going to stick. It has for a year, but who can say when I've barely been active. My name came from a plush Scapula made shortly after moved in, and never really went away. I like all things soft and nautical, and wanted to make a nice base for that kind of direction.

---

[image description: a thick red TCP, short and ready for adventure.  ]
 

---

FORT
He/Him
iiii'm Fort! wow, i have not talked about myself at all publicly! this is really weird! i try to be warm and pleasant to be around in-system, and so far i've got pretty good reviews. i have no idea what an external life will look like for me, so i have a very simple starting point!

---

[image description:  a wide, gentle looking teal TCP, unsure about facing the camera. ]
 

---

HAZARD
He/Him
hi, uh, this is my second time writing this blurb because my first one was kind of mean to myself. i'm scared of a lot of things, and depressed a lot of the times, but i'm looking forward to existing in this new way, for the most part. this big TCP makes me happy. thank you

---

[image description:  a tall, muted purple TCP sneaking around and looking to its side. ]
 

---

IVY
He/It
i'm ivy and i am here and doing my best uh
tall lanky pale TCP i'm probably going to be in jeans yep okay

---

[image description:  a simple brown TCP gazing out past the camera, his ears rotated into puppy-like folds. ]
 

---

NOEL
He/Him
i'm noel, i'm the only one out of all of our system members carrying a name over, but i think i'm still pretty shuffled over. i really like wintry, christmas aesthetics (wow who'd have guessed) and cozy colors and shapes. i have roughly turned my TCP into a dog and will be increasing that vibe ASAP. whoo

---

[image description:  a massive pastel green TCP posing flamboyantly, welcoming in an almost overwhelmingly soft way. ]
 

---

NUZZLE
He/Him
i'm Nuzzle! i like to front when people need a helping hand around the house or just a reprieve from fronting, and love things like pastels, storybook illustrations, etc. griffins are my favorite animal, so i think it's safe to say i'm going for something big, soft, and somewhere in that direction.

---

[image description: a tall peach colored TCP, serenely pleased to be here.  ]
 

---

PARKER
He/Him
hello, i'm Parker! i haven't had basically any time to chat with people, so i'll be very happy to make peoples' acquaintances. i'd like to make my TCP very spring-like and floral, with the delicacy of an old doll...

---

[image description: a short, fat brown TCP greeting the camera. ]
 

---

PINPRICK
She/Her
i'm an introject of our IRL pincushion and everyone is very perturbed by it, lol. i really like animal crossing and more specifically Sable Able, and am going for a short, squat, hedgehog-inclined base with this.

---

[image description:  a blue TCP lounging on his back, his nametag unfortunately and suggestively positioned between his legs. ]
 

---

REC
He/Him
[no response could be taken aside from a mildly perturbing smile, sorry]

---

[image description:  a tiny pitch black TCP with red eyes, looking curiously at the viewer. ]
 

---

REMIX
He/Him
i am Remix and i am happy to be hhere i do not know much about what to say but i like Spooky things and having fun with friends ok!!!

[for the sake of accuracy, please read this as a YTP style sentence mix.]

---

[image description: a simple blue TCP caught in a mid-sentence pose, and looking somewhat stressed about it.  ]
 

---

SCAPULA
He/Him
i'm scapula, and i'm what many people in the system call """""the office boy"""""" (please do not call me this). i handle a lot of organizational stuff around here and am a bit of a perpetual workaholic and as cashmere puts it "an attitude balance patch" from my components pre-implosion. i try to be helpful, at least, and my TCP is fairly basic because i enjoy feeling "stock" at times. i do plan on making him a bit more varied, though, because it's a little bit too close to Perfect Worker, my main typeless TCP avatar.

---

[image description:  a rather skittish looking purple TCP, his yellow eyes looking away nervously.  ]
 

---

SCAREDY
He/Him
i'm Scaredy, local virtual pet and game hacking enthusiast. i don't really know what to do with myself in a lot of ways, though i'd be happy to return to my interests when i'm more comfortable with them- things got pretty dicey last year. i have a lot of memories from high school, and this purple was one i loved a lot, so that plus a yellow i associate with the Petz cat Scaredy works well. expression to match, of course.

---

[image description:  a tall, elegant looking dull blue TCP, avoiding the camera and looking uncomfortable. ]
 

---

SCRAWL
She/Her
i don't like descriptions. i want to make some kind of dragon.

---

[image description:   a miniscule pitch black TCP, white eyes and pink furrowed brows the only part of him visible outside of his angry posture.]
 

---

SHRAPNEL
He/Him
imagine this thing running at you in the dead of night and that's kind of what i'm going for. i have some TCP avatars already that go for like, my more literal appearance? so this is some kind of horrible new experiment. i want him to be awful.

---

[image description: a huge, fat pastel purple TCP, prancing around blissfully. ]

---

SILKY
It/Its
i'm silky and i like BIG guys and making things that could hug you to death and i like my TCP for that. it's really good at being big and hugging things to death!

---

[image description:  a dark red-purple TCP with a large, fat stature and an unimpressed expression. her eyespots are distinctly pink. ]
 

---

SIREN
She/Her
not sure where to start. i don't really have a lot of conscious thought about where i was going with this, just feeling out what feels right. i guess that describes me a lot atm, aimless but doing my best.

---

[image description:  a large, thick black TCP standing nonchalantly, tired and bored. ]
 

---

SLYME
He/They
[wild shrugging] it's just kind of a guy i liked making

---

[image description: a tall, white TCP, caught mid-walk and looking very startled. his worried eyespots have red lines underneath, almost akin to makeup.  ]
 

---

SNAPSHOT
He/Him
i! worked really hard on the eyespots for this one. all of the eyespots in this exercise are made with the same kit, which i think is really cool and interesting, and after seeing people get creative i really wanted to see what i could do. that's the part that i worked hardest at. also, i'm snap, sorry. 

---

[image description: a faceless blue TCP with her back mostly to the camera, short and nondescript. ]
 

---

SPECTRO
She/They
i don't really want to write much, but i did like making this. my name is spectro and i don't really know how to make friends, but it would be cool to someday, probably. i'm trying.

---

[image description:  a short and squat red-brown TCP, standing defensively and looking frightfully to the side. ]
 

---

SQUEAKER
He/Him
i'm squeaker (PLEASE DO NOT SHORTEN THAT TO SQUEAK I DO NOT ENJOY IT) and i have a lot of mixed feelings about being cute and small and harmless but i guess this thing is going to be me exploring that safely and without the associations i usually have with my direct body. yeah.

---

[image description:  a tall, white, stand-offish TCP, her expression irritated. ]

---

STARLETT
She/Her
i thought this exercise would be stupid and it wasn't. i actually put a lot of effort into this even if it's simple. i don't have a lot to say about myself but this thing is cool.

---

[image description:  a somewhat shy, large blue TCP, sleepily looking away from the camera. ]
 

---

TAFFY WRAP
He/Him
why the fuck do i have to go near the bottom? now i'm all anxious, fucking christ. i'm taffy and i kind of have a weird contrast between having a cute and sleepy design, and, uh, the swearing tics a lot of us have. i'm a pretty big mess, but this TCP came out cool, and i like it. i want to put him in cool sweaters. and PJs.

---

[image description: a pure black TCP with white dot eyes, sitting politely and staring into the camera. ]

---

VINCA
They/It
It's wild to speak like this when I haven't been able to before. Sometimes all you need is a little prompting. I wonder if my pronouns will stay the same, but I'm happy to be here. I enjoy shadowy beings and this one works very well. Good for getting up to mischief!

---

[image description:  a large, pale green TCP with a gaunt, lifeless expression, shambling around like a zombie. ]
 

---

WARD
He/It
my name starts with a W, no question about me going last. i showed up in the middle of an excruciating ER trip and the name stuck, but it doesn't bother me any. going for a zombie looking guy, to surprise of no one else in the system.  

---

aaaand that's the current bunch. expect posts in between rounds of playing dressup to include renders, mini diary entries, idk! just having fun with this one. 

comments and questions are also more than welcome- we're cool with answering inquiries on how this works for us as long as people are kind. besides, i'm sure it'd mean a lot for us to say hi to people as our full selves, not just "mortis".]]> IMPLOSION
AKA: The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known Post-Escaping The Mass


INTRODUCTION


[image description: a tall cartoon cat, known as a TCP, made out of slime and waving at the camera.]

hello to folks reading this both new and old to our situation- we're Mortis Velasquez, a plural person and one of the co-founders of the forums you're looking at as we speak. since this is going to be linked on socials and might be the first time people have engaged with our work, i'll try to keep the first part brief. 

as of this post we are 29 years old, and have been an artist posting on the internet since we were 16. our first interactive project, Tiny Cat People: Void Session, is where we really got our start. it was hosted on TGchan and it was kind of. a point of stress.




...it still is. please do not ask us about that without us talking about it already lol. 

with that project came the community and team us and our wonderful husband and co-founder Comorant brought together- Homebrew Deviants. we had been working on the universe of Morbit together since we were 13 year old roleplayers on Scratch, always hoping that someday we could make our characters and ideas into something other people could experience. 

and now people do! and have for the past ten years, alongside a pile of really awesome friends both on HD staff and in the community itself. and for how much we've done re: worldbuilding and narrative projects, it's not bad for a decade. 

it hasn't been easy, though. 2025 was our first real return to public posting after years of debilitating PTSD over social media and being a public figure under surveillance and exacerbated by life situation after life situation after life situation-





everything kind of congealed.



we knew ourselves as 100+ system members, which is a lot of guys. people never really got to know everyone, we never really got it all down, not in a way the people around us (or even ourselves) could even learn. as pressure was put on us from external factors, we found ourselves increasingly hard to tell who was who, and not in a good way. 

we felt like we had lost our identity entirely. for months, particularly during a 6 month period of homelessness, we felt like we had become nothing but a mass of body parts and fragments, all lumped together in some kind of jellied Mass. existing in that state felt forced, like pressure outside of ourselves kept us 

and of course, it couldn't hold. as we began to settle into our new permanent living situation, we got immediately and increasingly sick as parts began to crawl out of the mass, establishing themselves as individuals. made of the same components, the same chunks of organs, memories, etc- but largely put together "different".

due to how volatile it felt, how fast it onset, the only term that felt right was The Implosion. 

what with everyone's memories, feelings, and associations being a patchwork disaster, we had to scramble to figure out who was who, how people felt about our life, each other, our friends and loved ones, our work- everything. 

existential crisis doesn't really cover it. 

it's been over a year since the Implosion, and we're still fucked up over it. social pressure to not have such a drastic change be so public- especially when a specific guy in here was known as the "face" and no longer is Despite The Fact We Keep Getting Called Him Anyway!!!!- kept us from really opening up.

what if people refused to learn the new roster?

what if people thought "eh, too complicated!"

what if people treated us worse than they did before?




would we even be able to exist in this new state as a known presence?





last summer, we started being a known presence again.

it went well. even with some pretty rough spots, it became clear that people did in fact want us around, and to experience our work- to get to know us. we ended up developing a lot stronger bonds with our friends, and getting a broader, more stable support network.

and yet we still struggled! even now, most people who we're most close to don't know who the hell is who outside of a few faces, which is the exact thing we want to avoid! god forbid, barely ANYONE knows outside of that immediate circle to begin with!

but then we came up with an idea. 

in a lot of structured groups, especially things like group art therapy, participants are given a simple exercise with simple tools to help introduce themselves. we kept thinking too broadly- while everyone here has some kind of "form"/sona/whatever the hell you want to call it, the idea of explaining those is daunting and freaks some of us out. besides, stuff like second life avatars are a lot harder to pin down for 40 bespoke guys. it's too much pressure to get graphics and models and etc for!

but what if we were to give everyone the same basic tools in Second Life- the Basic Typeless TCP avatar pack, vanilla, no addons- and tell them to make some kind of self representation with that? everyone would be on the same playing field, and if asked to do a little writeup of their introduction and why they chose what they did...well, that'd be a pretty good baseline! and it'd be easy enough for new brainguys, too.

but, that's not a full picture, is it? that kind of thing takes time and self discovery, and never really ends as a process. how could we emulate that?

the nice benefit of Second Life is that avatars take on new parts and traits and pieces over time. you can put them together and adjust piecemeal, and our avatar systems we've designed have been optimized for that in particular. 

why not go through the kits one at a time and let people choose what to add? what sort of things they want to try, like adding a new bit of clay or accent to their art therapy starting point? and, of course, they get to run around SL in that, or make art, renders, etc-

a way to be known. no one more important than anybody else. 

we managed to get all of the starting avatars done up and rendered last night in 6 hours. this first post will introduce you to our system as it stands now, complete with the avatars we made. here we go. 

 

---

LEVEL 1: BASIC BEGINNINGS

going in alphabetical order. let's go. assume everyone here is some weird degree of queer/genderfluid man unless otherwise specified.

---

[image description:  a soft looking blue TCP, stocky and glancing to the side with cute, wet-looking beady eyes. ]

 

---

ATLAS
She/Her
hi, i'm atlas and i uh. really like fish, particularly extinct sea life, and i've been likened to the crying cat meme image way too many times- appearance-wise, at least. my TCP to start is a lot more simple, though...which is fine, because it gives me time to figure stuff out. i like being bulky and soft looking, and tend to gravitate to blues and yellows. having the ears on my TCP droop a little bit feels comfy to me, and i guess i couldn't resist the beady eyes. i wasn't exactly expecting to be first up, but i guess that's how the alphabet works ;_; 
hope that does it good enough

---

[image description:  a tall black TCP with distinctly neon pink eyes, posing as if ready to dance at any moment.  ]
 

---

AUX
She/Her
i'm AUX and i am a split really centered around high school and stuff like our relationship to furry rave culture (many such cases with people our age, i know.) i like my name in all caps and i like blasting stupid music really loud. my TCP is not actually pitch black, but our reshade filter does that and i kind of like it? i plan on adding more neon accents as i go, but this kind of lanky look should be fun for putting funky clothes and accessories on. optimized towards renders or some shit

---

[image description:  a large red TCP with ears fashioned into wedge-shaped horns, strolling along on a leisurely adventure. ]
 

---

BEIGE BOX 
He/Him
i'm Beige Box, though just Beige works usually. my avatar here doesn't really convey why i'm called that, but it's meant to be a sort of dragon-like TCP with the limited part set i have to start with. my name comes from the term beige box- if you've seen those old 90's-early 2000's PCs, the ones that well, come in beige, that's a term frequently used. i resonate heavily with the old and sickly Dell PC we had growing up running Windows Me, and i'm hoping to build up this avatar with more features that remind me of my favorite custom desktop theme- where the "my computer" icon was a dragon. 

---

[image description: a white TCP with large, batlike ears lounging exaggeratedly, unimpressed with this interview.  ]
 

---

BELUGIOS
She/Her or He/Him depending on mood
i'm belugios, though belu will be fine in most cases- i only ask that you don't call me feminine terms unless you're como or from my own system, as the she/her moments are more of a fun occasionally femme dressup thing and i'd like to be seen as a man either way! i love horror and in particular vampire media and imagery, so my TCP is pale as hell and likely going to be decked out in gothic fashion. i should know, i've already made piles of it for SL and am glaring at the queue for this exercise so i can make her stop being fucking naked. goddamn tragic.

i also have a notorious lack of filter, so forgive me in advance for being crass. i can and will say the most awful things out of anyone here.

---

[image description:  a thick, dull red TCP sitting down casually, yet looking exhausted ]
 

---

BLIGHT
She/Her
i haven't talked much to anyone in-system, so i guess this is an intro to them too. i'm blight, and i don't have a lot figured out yet, but i'd like to. my avatar looks a little rough around the edges from posture alone, and i'd like to make her feel...weathered, but dependable.

that's something i want for myself, too. someone people can rely on.

---

[image description:  a stocky, brown TCP seemingly irritated at something off camera. ]
 

---

BUSHNELL
She/Her

i'm bushnell, one of the first to crawl out of the Mass and local weird carousel horse thing. i wanted my TCP to be big and bulky and able to throw down if needed- do no harm (probably) and take no shit type deal. i'd like to get some leather on her ASAP. funny that i'm going after blight, because i think we're going to get along, lol. 

---

[image description:  a dull pink TCP explaining something to someone off camera, and looking mildly tired of it. ]
 

---

CAPSULE
She/Her
wow three bitchy she/her mascs in a row. i'm capsule, and i'm the local doctor of the system, or however you'd put it. i definitely want to go into the medical horror angle, and make my TCP...very uncomfortable, in a way that makes Me comfortable. i have no idea if that makes sense, especially because she's just kind of a weird pinkish starting point. time to mesh a weird scalpel or something????

---

[image description:  a square-ish red-brown TCP deep in thought, seemingly not noticing the camera. ]
 

---

CASHMERE
He/Him
i'm cash, though cashmere works okay too. i'm more private and reserved than a lot of the others, though i'd like to front more in general. staying inside all day feels weird and unpleasant, even if i'm nervous sometimes. i'll be honest, this avatar pulls a lot from my system form, at least in terms of ear placement and build when i'm not a mantis taur. i imagine the bug factor's going to increase from here. 

---

[image description:  a gangly white TCP contorting to seemingly push against the camera, overly curious as to what's on the other side. ]
 

---

CHARADE
It/Its



[further poking for a response was not helpful]

---

[image description:  a sleepy green TCP with large ears, distinctly camera-shy. ]
 

---

CONSTELLAR
He/Him
uhh
i don't really do good with the whole talking thing so you can call me constell if you want and my TCP is a bat Okay Bye i will do better blurbs next time

---

[image description: a tall, classy looking red TCP with an even, low gaze. she's definitely looking down on you.]
 

---

COUNTER
She/Her
i'm counter, and i plan on making my TCP elegant in a way that will make scapula specifically flustered. he's glaring at me for even saying this in public but it's fine! he'll have to deal with it. 

---

[image description: a very small and chubby lime TCP, his eyespots pink and yellow and ears particularly nubbly.  ]
 

---

CRUSH
He/Him
i'm crush and i am perpetually really Really anxious and panicky so i'll be quick too i guess! i like 2000's knicknacks and stationary and Lisa Frank style stuff, especially weird little green martians. kind of going for that here.

---

[image description: a large green TCP with an almost crest-like feature on his head, excitedly posing for the camera.  ]
 

---

CURIO
He/Him
I'm Curio and I'm really happy to talk publicly for the first time! I don't front much at all, or haven't gotten to yet I guess, but I love dinosaurs, rocks, museums, the works! My memory ain't great post-Implosion on any of these topics, but i'm looking forward to researching more. My av is kind of going for a light-Parasauralophus thing, as that's my favorite dinosaur!

---

[image description: a large, soft looking seafoam TCP, glancing around peacefully.  ]
 

---

FISHBEAW
He/Him
Hello! I'm "Fishbeaw", though none of us are really sure if that's going to stick. It has for a year, but who can say when I've barely been active. My name came from a plush Scapula made shortly after moved in, and never really went away. I like all things soft and nautical, and wanted to make a nice base for that kind of direction.

---

[image description: a thick red TCP, short and ready for adventure.  ]
 

---

FORT
He/Him
iiii'm Fort! wow, i have not talked about myself at all publicly! this is really weird! i try to be warm and pleasant to be around in-system, and so far i've got pretty good reviews. i have no idea what an external life will look like for me, so i have a very simple starting point!

---

[image description:  a wide, gentle looking teal TCP, unsure about facing the camera. ]
 

---

HAZARD
He/Him
hi, uh, this is my second time writing this blurb because my first one was kind of mean to myself. i'm scared of a lot of things, and depressed a lot of the times, but i'm looking forward to existing in this new way, for the most part. this big TCP makes me happy. thank you

---

[image description:  a tall, muted purple TCP sneaking around and looking to its side. ]
 

---

IVY
He/It
i'm ivy and i am here and doing my best uh
tall lanky pale TCP i'm probably going to be in jeans yep okay

---

[image description:  a simple brown TCP gazing out past the camera, his ears rotated into puppy-like folds. ]
 

---

NOEL
He/Him
i'm noel, i'm the only one out of all of our system members carrying a name over, but i think i'm still pretty shuffled over. i really like wintry, christmas aesthetics (wow who'd have guessed) and cozy colors and shapes. i have roughly turned my TCP into a dog and will be increasing that vibe ASAP. whoo

---

[image description:  a massive pastel green TCP posing flamboyantly, welcoming in an almost overwhelmingly soft way. ]
 

---

NUZZLE
He/Him
i'm Nuzzle! i like to front when people need a helping hand around the house or just a reprieve from fronting, and love things like pastels, storybook illustrations, etc. griffins are my favorite animal, so i think it's safe to say i'm going for something big, soft, and somewhere in that direction.

---

[image description: a tall peach colored TCP, serenely pleased to be here.  ]
 

---

PARKER
He/Him
hello, i'm Parker! i haven't had basically any time to chat with people, so i'll be very happy to make peoples' acquaintances. i'd like to make my TCP very spring-like and floral, with the delicacy of an old doll...

---

[image description: a short, fat brown TCP greeting the camera. ]
 

---

PINPRICK
She/Her
i'm an introject of our IRL pincushion and everyone is very perturbed by it, lol. i really like animal crossing and more specifically Sable Able, and am going for a short, squat, hedgehog-inclined base with this.

---

[image description:  a blue TCP lounging on his back, his nametag unfortunately and suggestively positioned between his legs. ]
 

---

REC
He/Him
[no response could be taken aside from a mildly perturbing smile, sorry]

---

[image description:  a tiny pitch black TCP with red eyes, looking curiously at the viewer. ]
 

---

REMIX
He/Him
i am Remix and i am happy to be hhere i do not know much about what to say but i like Spooky things and having fun with friends ok!!!

[for the sake of accuracy, please read this as a YTP style sentence mix.]

---

[image description: a simple blue TCP caught in a mid-sentence pose, and looking somewhat stressed about it.  ]
 

---

SCAPULA
He/Him
i'm scapula, and i'm what many people in the system call """""the office boy"""""" (please do not call me this). i handle a lot of organizational stuff around here and am a bit of a perpetual workaholic and as cashmere puts it "an attitude balance patch" from my components pre-implosion. i try to be helpful, at least, and my TCP is fairly basic because i enjoy feeling "stock" at times. i do plan on making him a bit more varied, though, because it's a little bit too close to Perfect Worker, my main typeless TCP avatar.

---

[image description:  a rather skittish looking purple TCP, his yellow eyes looking away nervously.  ]
 

---

SCAREDY
He/Him
i'm Scaredy, local virtual pet and game hacking enthusiast. i don't really know what to do with myself in a lot of ways, though i'd be happy to return to my interests when i'm more comfortable with them- things got pretty dicey last year. i have a lot of memories from high school, and this purple was one i loved a lot, so that plus a yellow i associate with the Petz cat Scaredy works well. expression to match, of course.

---

[image description:  a tall, elegant looking dull blue TCP, avoiding the camera and looking uncomfortable. ]
 

---

SCRAWL
She/Her
i don't like descriptions. i want to make some kind of dragon.

---

[image description:   a miniscule pitch black TCP, white eyes and pink furrowed brows the only part of him visible outside of his angry posture.]
 

---

SHRAPNEL
He/Him
imagine this thing running at you in the dead of night and that's kind of what i'm going for. i have some TCP avatars already that go for like, my more literal appearance? so this is some kind of horrible new experiment. i want him to be awful.

---

[image description: a huge, fat pastel purple TCP, prancing around blissfully. ]

---

SILKY
It/Its
i'm silky and i like BIG guys and making things that could hug you to death and i like my TCP for that. it's really good at being big and hugging things to death!

---

[image description:  a dark red-purple TCP with a large, fat stature and an unimpressed expression. her eyespots are distinctly pink. ]
 

---

SIREN
She/Her
not sure where to start. i don't really have a lot of conscious thought about where i was going with this, just feeling out what feels right. i guess that describes me a lot atm, aimless but doing my best.

---

[image description:  a large, thick black TCP standing nonchalantly, tired and bored. ]
 

---

SLYME
He/They
[wild shrugging] it's just kind of a guy i liked making

---

[image description: a tall, white TCP, caught mid-walk and looking very startled. his worried eyespots have red lines underneath, almost akin to makeup.  ]
 

---

SNAPSHOT
He/Him
i! worked really hard on the eyespots for this one. all of the eyespots in this exercise are made with the same kit, which i think is really cool and interesting, and after seeing people get creative i really wanted to see what i could do. that's the part that i worked hardest at. also, i'm snap, sorry. 

---

[image description: a faceless blue TCP with her back mostly to the camera, short and nondescript. ]
 

---

SPECTRO
She/They
i don't really want to write much, but i did like making this. my name is spectro and i don't really know how to make friends, but it would be cool to someday, probably. i'm trying.

---

[image description:  a short and squat red-brown TCP, standing defensively and looking frightfully to the side. ]
 

---

SQUEAKER
He/Him
i'm squeaker (PLEASE DO NOT SHORTEN THAT TO SQUEAK I DO NOT ENJOY IT) and i have a lot of mixed feelings about being cute and small and harmless but i guess this thing is going to be me exploring that safely and without the associations i usually have with my direct body. yeah.

---

[image description:  a tall, white, stand-offish TCP, her expression irritated. ]

---

STARLETT
She/Her
i thought this exercise would be stupid and it wasn't. i actually put a lot of effort into this even if it's simple. i don't have a lot to say about myself but this thing is cool.

---

[image description:  a somewhat shy, large blue TCP, sleepily looking away from the camera. ]
 

---

TAFFY WRAP
He/Him
why the fuck do i have to go near the bottom? now i'm all anxious, fucking christ. i'm taffy and i kind of have a weird contrast between having a cute and sleepy design, and, uh, the swearing tics a lot of us have. i'm a pretty big mess, but this TCP came out cool, and i like it. i want to put him in cool sweaters. and PJs.

---

[image description: a pure black TCP with white dot eyes, sitting politely and staring into the camera. ]

---

VINCA
They/It
It's wild to speak like this when I haven't been able to before. Sometimes all you need is a little prompting. I wonder if my pronouns will stay the same, but I'm happy to be here. I enjoy shadowy beings and this one works very well. Good for getting up to mischief!

---

[image description:  a large, pale green TCP with a gaunt, lifeless expression, shambling around like a zombie. ]
 

---

WARD
He/It
my name starts with a W, no question about me going last. i showed up in the middle of an excruciating ER trip and the name stuck, but it doesn't bother me any. going for a zombie looking guy, to surprise of no one else in the system.  

---

aaaand that's the current bunch. expect posts in between rounds of playing dressup to include renders, mini diary entries, idk! just having fun with this one. 

comments and questions are also more than welcome- we're cool with answering inquiries on how this works for us as long as people are kind. besides, i'm sure it'd mean a lot for us to say hi to people as our full selves, not just "mortis".]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-973.html Tue, 06 Jan 2026 18:09:40 +0000 SHIVERS]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-973.html [You should come]
[I'm on my way]
[Here.]
[?]
[Say words]


                  [was sleep sry]
                  [nah its not rly my thing]
[People you know here]
[Friends]
                  [theyre your friends]
                  [they dont rly know me and i dont rly know them]
[They like when you come hang out]
                  [eh i dunno about that]
                  [look its cool. you hang out]
                  [not my thing. and you need somethin fun 2 do]


[What are you going to do]
                  [i got some of that pineapple cider]
                  [thats as much of a celebration as new year deserves]
[Besides drink]
                  [nothin. play games. like i said its cool]
[Doesn't sound fun]
[Sounds bad]
                  [well i dont do big stuff like you do]
                  [its just a number ticking over anyway]
[When you don't do anything for holidays you get sad]
                  [youre worrying way too much. lol]
                  [its fiiiine. go have fun]
[Tell me you'll have a good time]
                  [i mean im gonna be sitting at home]
                  [woohoo itll be very much fun]
                  [its cool. dwai]
[Then tell me you're good at least]
                  [i said its cool]
[And you're good?]
                  [salem]
[See]
[Sad.]
                  [ok. and]
                  [its the holidays lots of ppl are sad]
                  [boohoo]


[Come to the party]
[It's my party so it's good]
[I swear]
                  [dont wanna be stressed out around strangers]
[You know them]
                  [i hang out with you with them]
                  [they dont talk to me. why would they]
                  [theyre your friends theyre there for u]
                  [just how things work n thats fine]
[They like you]
                  [ok cool. dont wanna go to a party]
[It's better than nothing]
                  [you say that but not to me]
                  [really not as big of a deal as youre making it]
                  [im an adult. i can be a little sad on a holiday]
                  [ill survive]
                  [so go have fun and quit worrying about me]
                  [ok?]
[OK]
                  [cool. thank u]
                  [u can tell me abt it after]




[Left early]
                  [what why]
                  [salem]
                  [i said im good]
                  [????]
                  [did u go home??]
                  [msg me back ok? whered u go]




[Here]
[--LOCATION SHARE--]
[Come here]
                  [what]
[Not a party]
                  [salem thats all the way downtown]
                  [buses arent even running]
[Rails are]
[You can make it]
                  [tell me what its for]
[It's a surprise]
                  [what about the party]
[Party over. Come on]
                  [its not even close to midnight yet]
[Let me do a thing for you]
[I already left]
[Don't want to count down all by myself]


                  [i dont wanna leave]
[It'll just be us]
[I'm by myself]
[Promise]
                  [its cold]
[Won't kill you]
                  [ok but will u]
                  [is this like some elaborate plot to murder me]
[I wouldn't need to do that]
[I have a key to your apartment]
                  [so is that a yes]
[Not tonight]
[You're safe for now]
[Please]


                  [i need to shower and stuff]
[I have time]
                  [you dont need to go to so much trouble for me]
[Too late]
[I'm doing it for me too]
[If that makes you feel better]
                  [what about the party]
[There'll be more]
[Come hang out with me]
                  [ok]
                  [im barely gonna get there before midnight]
                  [will u be ok out there on your own]
[Cornerstore close by]
[I'll hang out there]
[I'll get a slushie]


                  [ok. fine]
                  [be safe ok?]
[Always safe]


























































"...no way in hell."
"Yep.
You can do it. I got through just fine."
"I-" The axolotl rubs its temple,
looking over the gap at the bottom of the chain link fence.

"Okay A: I'm way bigger than you.
B: I wore my good jacket."
"The wing one?"
"Yeah, the wing one.
It's gonna get all torn up from s-

Look, can't we just go down by the docks?"
"Believe it or not, they have better fences down there.
More worried about the boats than the warehouses, I guess.
Plus, the fog's thicker by the water.
If we wanna see fireworks, we need to get up high."



"Look, I

...I'm not lookin' to start off the new year by getting caught up with cops."

"It's completely empty down here."
"Yeah, but--"
"If cops come around they'll just tell us to get down.
Maybe we get a fine at worst."
"And I'm broke! You know I'm broke, I can't-
I get caught with that and I'm--" "I'll pay it."
"...How?"
"End of year. I got a big bonus."
"You're willing to blow it on this?"
"To have a good time with you?
Yeah."
"...I mean, I-
I'd feel fuckin'... bad if you had to--"
"Bones.
It'll be okay.

Trust me."



The crow reaches out her wing-like hand from the other side of the fence.
"C'mon."



The axolotl hesitates,
looking skyward with a shake of its head.



Knowing it's about to say yes.
That it would regardless.



"...fffffffffine.
If it'll make you happy."
"That's the spirit."

"Here.

First..."
It removes its jacket, wincing from the cold.

The axolotl delicately folds it up before passing it under the fence for the bird to take.

"Cool.
This is all I wanted, actually."
"Uh-huh."
"It's a killer jacket."
"You've already got wings, save me some."
"I got, like... 'wing-hands'.
Not the same."
"Too bad."

She tucks the jacket under her arm,
reaching down to help pull the salamander under the fence.





The axolotl gasps.

She freezes.
"What--" "fUCkin, oWw-OW-OW--"

It reaches a hand up,
finding one of its frills pierced by a sharp point of the fence.
"Help, helphelp-fffFF-
GOD--"
"Hold still, hold still. I got it."
The axolotl freezes on command, biting its lip.

Salem quickly and carefully looses the sharp metal point from its frill.
A trickle of blood runs down, dripping on the pavement.
"Done."



The axolotl rubs at it.

"...hate how stupidly sensitive these things are.
Stings like hell anytime I nick one... ugh."
The crow wastes no time in pulling a spare napkin from her pocket,
pressing it against the wound.
"Weren't you wanting a piercing?"
"I mean fuck, you're right.
This was your present, then?"
"Mhm. Happy New Year's."
"Awesome.

...Is whatever you're putting on it sterile?"
"I dunno. It's fine.

Disinfect it later.
Better than bleeding everywhere."

She pulls it away.
"Looks like it stopped anyway."





The crow blinks,
then pats its shoulder as she hands back its jacket.
"Let's go up."
Her head gestures to the ladder.
"...yay."




























The crow reaches the top first, spreading her arms in a stretch.

She reaches into her pocket,
pulling out a cigarette and pinching it between her beak.

"Uh--"



Her head tilts back to the ladder.



Bones is clinging tightly to the top rung. 

"Look, I'm. Like-
Have I told you I can get like,
really bad vertigo?
Like I'm not scared of heights, but like--"

She leans down by the ladder, mumbling past her cigarette.
"I'm n't g'nna l'shoo fall."
"...What?"
The crow reaches out her hand, gesturing for Bones to grab it.



It takes it,
and is swiftly hefted up to the rooftop,
where it clings to the metal surface.

She pulls her cigarette out.
"Look. Roof's almost flat, and it's got railings."
"...Yeah... y-yeah, just like-
I'm--" It takes a breath, snagging a railing and managing a sitting position.
"I'm good, I'm good."

"There ya go."
She plops down next to it,
eliciting the faintest of creaks from the metal roof.



"You uh... sure this roof is like, stable?"

"I've been up here dozens of times."
"Yeah, and I'm way heavier than--"

She reaches over, lightly grabbing its head and turning it to look at her.
"Bones.



All

you've been doing

the whole time 

we've been here

is Worrying.



We're up here.
We made it.
And it's..." She pulls out her phone. "...like twenty minutes to next year.

We're gonna hang out up here for a few more minutes,
because: Look."

She turns its head again.






The bright, colorful lights at the other side of the city reflect across the black water of the lake;
shimmering streaks of gold, red, pink, blue; 

all refracted into hundreds of constantly shifting, confetti-like patterns.

The fog, in turn, lights up with every hue like a smoky aurora,
with not another soul in sight to witness it save for the two of them.







The axolotl stares in awe.




"Surprise."

"...okay. ............Yeah." It slowly smiles.
"There you go.
...It'll look even better when the fireworks start."
"...mhm..."











She glances over at the axolotl,
watching it watch the lake.









Salem puts her cigarette away.





" . . . 


...Which is why I need payment."

It looks over quizzically.

"I'm cold."

"Oh.

I mean,
I GUESS you can borrow my jacket." It plays up the drama.

"It's just my ~O o o nly~ nice thing I Haaave!
But If you're really Rrreally--" "Nope."

She flops against Bones instead.

"You-


 . . . 



Bastard."
"Yea." 
It snickers.
"You're like a parasite."
"I'm a very, very scary parasite.
I'm feeding off your brain."
"That's my chest.
You gonna bite my tits off, then?"
"Yyesss."
"Damn.

Free top surgery."
The crow cracks up, turning her head to the side to try and stop herself.

Bones just looks down at her, meeting her face.

It shakes its head at her slowly.
"And after I worked So hard to get these."
She properly sits up, waving a wing dismissively at it as she desperately works to suppress her giggling.

"Hell of a way to go." 
She bats at its shoulder, cackling,
her laughter gradually turning into a small coughing fit.

"Oh-


Fuck, you good?"


"Your fault.
Making me laugh."
"...I mean, to be fair,
you're like the only person I can ever get with my dumbass jokes."

" . . . 

...You should try actually joking around more with other people.

Like, when you hang out my friends, you're all...
...uptight all of a sudden."
"Eh, I'm not, like, actually funny, it's just--"
"Bones, would you-


 . . . "



" . . .


...What?"





She settles back into her spot against its chest.

"Nothing."


"You... sure you don't--?"
"Not right now."



"...okay."



















The axolotl's eyes glance down at her.

She's not smiling.
Not quite frowning.





" . . . 





...how much time left?"


She pulls out her phone.



"Nine-ish minutes."



"...I got a thing."

"Oh yeah?"





It nods.






"So.
New Year's Thing."
"Resolutions?
Cause I've got none."
"No, who even remembers those like, even a day later?
This is like-
So--" "So."
"...So it's like...

You kinda... review this year a bit.

Like not rating it but just kinda, thoughts on this past year.
And we take turns.
And after that, we take turns talking about like...
what we want for next year."



"...So reviewing last year, then resolutions."

"No, no it's like-
It's not about like, setting yourself up for failure by,
y'know,
making some big goal or whatever.

It's just... 


...like it can be stuff you Hope you do more of,
but you're not making it a big goal,
and it can be other stuff, too.
Stuff you hope happens, stuff you hope you do, stuff you hope is different, just...
How you hope the year'll go."



The crow breathes in the cold air.



"...Okay."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, I wanna."
"Okay, so y--" "You go first, though."
"W-
Why do I hav--" "I need examples."
" . . . 

...fffffair, I guess."

"And go fast. Don't have a lot of time."
"Fast?
But-


Okay, fuck, 


uh..."





The axolotl bounces its foot.





"Okay, this year




sucked


like a whole



whole lot.


Like, there was some good things here n' there-

Like
got my diagnosis- Diagnoses,
and--"
"Wait, like
for your hand stuff?"
"What?

...Oh, 
no. No, like

...brain...

stuff."
"...What did you get?
You didn't talk about that."
"It's-
I don't... wanna, right now.
Just-




Anyway, so-

Mostly sucked.
Mostly on my own.
Mostly cooped up inside.
Mostly doing nothing.
Mostly just... I dunno, deteriorating physically and mentally.
Keep getting depressed and like-

... "

It sees her looking up at itself.



"But-
Like, good stuff, too.
Just...

not a lot.

 . . . 

I think it's more just,
me handling stuff less well, really.

Like... it's somethin' I can fix.
And I'm still doin' therapy; have been the whole year,
so it like-

Yeah.



Anyway, uh



this is

a nice way to end it.
And I'm glad we got some time together this year.

That was... most of the good stuff, honestly,
was just hangin' out with you."






"  .  .  .  "







"...Sorry.
Holidays make me like

sappy.
I dunno.


...Your turn."

"You're fine.
Thinking."








It nods.






Trying not to think too much.










"This year did suck.

Old job fucking fizzling out, like it did.
And everything with Cameron--" 
"Fuck Cameron."
"Fuck Cameron.

And like

health problems.
...You hit thirty and your spine just shrivels up.
Like a raisin."
"You used to sleep on your floor."
"Yeah, how?
I don't know how I did."
"No I mean like,
might be related."

"...Well.

Better not be.



...Only good parts of this year were friend stuff, and going places.

Got to see a few new things.
Do a few new things.

...work made it hard, but
got that figured out now.
Used to the new schedule and, actually getting days off now.

The parties and hangouts and trips together have been the best part.



...And I'm glad you've actually been at some of 'em."



It nods, gaze focused away.







She nudges its shoulder.

"Hey.
I mean it."
"...I know you do."


" . . . 

...That's it, I guess."





Another nudge.

"Next year. Go."


"...uh



Thinkin', sorry."






It steadies itself.









" . . . 

...You want me to be honest?"
"Yes."
"...

...I don't, like

I mean not to be like... a downer, or anything,
but




just



don't have much hope that things'll like




get better.





And since I can't work,
it's not like I've got much control over my situation, or
my life, really, anyway.

So like... if things get better, they get better,
and if they get worse, they get worse."



"...OK.


But this is about what you Want to happen."

"I mean, I-

It's just gonna... make me feel shittier to think about, but it-






 . . . 


...It'd be nice to like, actually make some friends.

Most people're gone already or just don't talk to me anymore.
And I'm... fuckin' awful at talking to other people.

And like I want to, y'know... socialize

talk to people;
I know I'm s'posed to.
And I know I'm Supposed to like, express Myself, but it's like

 . . . 

...nobody's really
buyin' what I'm sellin', or-
Wrong way to use that phrase, just-

I know I'm just
a really, kinda... odd person; and even if I ignore my brain tryin' to tell me that's a bad thing,
it doesn't make it any easier to fit in around other people.

...Bein' the odd one out 
out of literally
every group of anybody that I'm ever around,
and havin' people just like

not really Want that; and why would they?

Like







...I dunno.
Got off topic, I think.


Shit just sucks.



...I hope I make new friends, somehow.

Hope I can... leave the fuckin' apartment without bein' like

...terrified, of



anyone
and everyone;
not even like, 'oh they'll hurt me' but just


like


I don't want anyone to see me...



existing.



I don't wanna fuck up things for anybody.
I don't wanna cause problems.

...I dunno.






...maybe a miracle'll happen.





...sorry.
Downer.
...Things probably aren't that bad, just

feelin' shitty right now. Holidays.






I'm alright."













" . . . 





You don't do any of that.





...I'm just glad you're here."
"I mean, I'm... really glad you're here, t--"
"Want you to see that."

"...yeah...
...your turn. Next year."

"This is part of it. Of mine.


Want you to actually see that I give a- That the people that know you... like you being here.
That it makes a difference.

That you're like..."

She shakes her head.





"...That's part of it.



The rest?







...I want to leave, I think.



This city was what I needed years ago.
But I moved on and I have more I want to do.

I don't wanna be stuck here longer.


There's new things out there to me.
I want to move on."

"...your...

You just got your job figured out, though."
"I can figure out a new one.
Not leaving right this second."
"And you like that apartment you're renting, right?"
"Yeah.
But I was thinking I could find a little house to rent somewhere, eventually."
"It's... just a big change,
and you haven't been here that long.
Things're just now, like... starting to stabilize, for you."
"They can stabilize somewhere else."
"I'd just


...I'd kinda... kill for that, honestly.
Moving around everywhere sucks."

She shrugs, leaning to the side against it to better see the lake.






"You sure it's not just, like

cause moving around's what you've been used to?
Like... I bet it probably feels weird, staying in one place a while."

" . . . 

I feel restless, anyway.
The reason doesn't really matter.

And I still want more."










"...If you left...



 . . . "







"...You could come with me, you know."







"...I can't make money..."








"I'd help."







"I don't... wanna do that to you."







"I'm offering."






"...I..."




















Fireworks explode in the distance,
barely visible.



The crow pulls out her phone.

"...They started early.


Thirty seconds til, now."




She squints at the horizon.





Then, she stands up.

"Hey-
Careful--"
"Fog's in the way otherwise.
...I can just barely see over it like this.

You'd probably have a perfect view."
"I... dunno, the like... vertigo--"
"Here."



She reaches down a wing hand.



"Watch the fireworks with me.
I want you to."
"Salem--"
"I'm not gonna let you fall."
"But you might fall,
it's not worth--"
"I won't.

And you won't let me, either, right?"











The axolotl hesitates




then reaches up a shaky hand

to take hers.










She pulls it up slowly, carefully.
Making sure it's steady.


"Lean back just a little bit.

If you feel like you're getting vertigo,
just let your legs drop.

You won't fall off."

"O-O...kay..."




















They stand in silence.

















Watching the fireworks.
















She looks at her phone.










"...I'd miss you, too."

Bones glances over.

"If you didn't come with me."





" . . . "











"...think about it."








".........yeah...."















"...Okay.
And-




Ten." "..."



"Nine." "..."



"Eight." "..."



"Seven." "..."



"Six." "...Six."


She squeezes its hand.


"Five." "Five."



"Four." "Four."


It closes its eyes.


"Three." "Three."




"Two." "Two."






"One." "One."


The brightest of fireworks flashes across the lake.











"Happy--"


The roof collapses out from under them.



















































cognition

fades   in















Bones is


vertical




















Hanging by




















Its jacket.


The shoulder of its jacket.






Caught on a bent metal rafter



inside the warehouse.














It's panting heavily.









It remembers the fall.




Ignoring everything else,
the axolotl looks about the warehouse


eventually spotting the crow



not all that far away 






to the side



on the floor








not moving.















"SALEM!!"


The beam its caught on suddenly bends as it flails.

Bones gasps, looking up.




The threads of the jacket sleeve are starting to rip.

The beam bends further, creaking loudly.




It looks directly below itself.






A large, square container there - at least four feet taller than Bones.

Its walls almost seem translucent.

It squints at them,
spotting a glint in the light.


glass.






With a whimper,
the axolotl looks back up,
spotting another beam within reach above itself.

Carefully,

it reaches.















The beam suddenly bends with a metallic cacophony.

The sleeve rips.









It falls,
ripping straight through the container's ceiling
as if it were made of cardboard.







It yelps in pain as it lands, quickly checking over itself

finding less cuts than it'd expected.








And no shards of glass.
Nothing of the sort.

Looking up, the hole doesn't make it look like glass, either;
not having broken in any way that glass might.
It has a slight iridescence in the light.




salem.


Bones stands



and falls back down with a sharp cry.






Blood drips through the leg of its jeans,
forming a small puddle.

It hurts like hell.


The axolotl groans, tensing on instinct.





"Sss-
Sa-lem...!
Are y-
Are you okay?!"

No response.

"...fff...ffuck, ...fuck fuck fuck..."

With shaky breath, it tries to steel itself to get back up,
unsure if it can.

It has to.



















It stops.









A claw grasps the top of its head.





Bones can't move anymore.

"Not one of them, then?"


Bones realizes it is no longer breathing.

But it doesn't feel like it's choking.


"No, not at all.
Clueless.


And yet,

your accident
happened to free me

on such an occasion."



Bones finds itself able to move
just barely.
Resuming breathing.

Heavy, staggered.

It still can't stand, or pull away, or do much of anything.



Yet,
it finds itself lifted up,
into the air.

Turned to face the voice.

"It must be fate."




It can't see much.

A serpent-like figure; long, slender, tall; far taller than itself.
Short, thin limbs.
Patterns that shift like liquid, rings of light;
silver, sky blue.



A smile without teeth.






It can't see more.
It's dark.
It's growing darker.



It can hear its own blood dripping.
Even thinking about its leg causes it to hurt again.
It fails to suppress a whimper.





The stranger watches its leg.

Drip.

Drip.







"You'll die soon, won't you?

Fragile things."


They simply stare.
As if this means nothing.

Taking their time to think, while it bleeds out.



"Without my intervention, you will.
...Hmm.


I suppose I could
take on a project.
I'll need something to do
with my newfound freedom.

And besides,

I'm very curious
about how You
relate to Me.

It couldn't be a coincidence."



Bones

does its best to put up the slightest of struggles.
Hardly conscious, at this point.

One thing on its mind.



"...You would rather die?

That seems foolish."



The figure tilts its head,
leaning in.

"...No.

Something 
you want.






...Very well.

An exchange.



She likely would 
survive
without my help


but I will
ensure it.

I know
you will say Yes."



The figure's spare claw reaches into their own pattern,
pulling at their hide,
as one of the rings of light unravels;

pulled out like a string.





They wrap it around the axolotl's neck.


The string disappears.



Something else is there, now.
But Bones can't tell what.




"And just like that,
your thread 
ties to mine.


I look forward to You 
seeing Me 
once more.



Until then,
let's see 
where your fate leads,



Shall we?"







The figure reaches their clawtip forward




and taps the axolotl's forehead.












Bones sees








vast oceans










a wave






cr



































































































The last tray

at the far, far end of the buffet line


contains a gelatin dessert;
molded into a ridged ring shape.

Deep, black-blue, 
with tiny chunks of various other colors;

twinkling in the light like multicolored stars.







Currently untouched.









"...See?
I told you nobody would eat it."
Muriel shakes her head with a sigh.
"...I'll just take it home after this, then.
Norm'll eat it.

...I should go cover it back up."

She scoots her chair out, readying herself to get up from the table,
only for the woman next to her to put a hand on her shoulder.

"Oh, stop, Muriel.
Honestly...

It's only because you kept the foil on until twenty minutes ago.
Everyone already went through the line an hour ago; saw it covered up--"
"Well!
It's not like they would've eaten it, anyway."
"Oh you don't know that." She waves a paw dismissively.

Muriel puts her elbow on the table, resting her chin on her hand.

Staring at the buffet line.

"I mean it, Deb.
...I just don't think I got the flavor right.
The black cherry mix with those little... glitter-y gummy candies;
it makes it look like fireworks - I think so, at least -
but I don't know if the flavors work together.

It's probably too sweet..."
"Oh, it's fiiine, I'm sure.

And it looks lovely."
"...you think so?"
"Sure do.

Just leave it out til the end of the party.
You'll see."










A man approaches the buffet line, eyeing the desserts.

Deb nudges Muriel.
"There, there; look.
I bet Donny'll take a piece right now."






With bated breath,
the two women watch the bored, slouching man
hover over the dessert trays.

Scattered chatter the only sound in the room.















He delicately takes the serving knife




and cuts off a piece of gelatin dessert.




And then,

a second piece.






"Two!
He took two.

I told you so."

Muriel's gaze follows the bored man to his seat

at his table, 
by himself.



Continuing to observe.


"What's wrong now?"
"...He still may not like it, Deb."
"See, now you're being paranoid."


Her eyes fix on the man, 
and his plate
and his slices.








With his fork,
he pulls up a bite


watching the gelatin wobble about strangely.






He bites.



Swallows.





















Without any hint of expression,

he carves apart the next piece with his fork,
inspecting it like an open geode.







He reaches his fingers in

digging out a piece of twinkling gummy candy,
which he eats


by itself.



Repeating the process.

Again, 
again.









Muriel's shoulders droop.

"...I told you."
"Oh, don't think about at Donny.
Bad example; look at him!
He's eating at it like a... worm, or something. Digging around.
Who does that?"
"The flavors don't work."
"What kind of judge of that is he?
Here-" Deb stands. "I want a slice--"
"No, noooo, it's fine--"







The lights in the open dining room dim,

while the lights on the little stage brighten.










Someone makes their way up onto the stage,
picking up the microphone from the stand.




They clear their throat.

"Thank you all for coming to another Gradient End-of-year Party.
I won't lie and say it hasn't been a tough year for our company,
and while it will always be tough to continue without Mx. Osborne;
we are strong. 
Gradient is strong.
Even in just the last few months, we've had quite a turnaround.
...And we have you all to thank for that."

They adjust their glasses in silence.

"At any rate, 
I know I'm looking forward to another successful year,
and I'm sure you are, too.
...But, I'm not who you should hear from tonight.

You should hear, tonight, from the man most responsible for our success in this difficult time;
Our Managing Director and Spokesman,

Mr. Wolf Wedmore."



They clap,
and others in the audience follow suit,

as a suited, gray feline makes his way up towards the stage,
giving the occasional wave to tables he passes.






He reaches the stage,
giving another wave and a smile to the audience,
as he fluidly removes the mic from the stand,

propping it confidently into the air.




" . . . 

Well, hi there. Good to see you all.

I'm sure those of you, at this branch,
weren't expecting to see me here.
I can only be at One... company-mandated holiday party at once, can't I?
How did I choose?


Well.
The truth is-
Believe it or not,
this branch - Sirocco Branch, your branch -
had our most successful profit margins in every fiscal quarter of this past year.
All of You achieved that,
so I think you owe yourselves a round of applause."

He tilts the microphone away as the crowd applauds themselves,
tapping his free paw to his wrist to join in with the them.

"...Now,
seeing as you all have earned such an outstanding achievement,
I think you're owed an extra treat.
We have this party, of course - but that's every year, isn't it?

So, I thought
'Why not something special?'

As I'm sure you know, 
we have a yearly preview of our new products and services;
every year, with our board of directors and various investors.
We film it.
We send it out a few days later in our monthly email to all of our employees;
showing you just a taste of what Gradient has in store.

But this year...
We have our presentation ready; right now, right in this room,
for all of you.

Of course, our cameras in the back-" He points them out. "-are filming this,
to show to our board;
but you, Sirocco, get to see our yearly Gradient Showcase,
live in person!"

He claps again.
Some follow suit.




A projector screen descends behind him.

"Yes, it's quite a privilege, of course.

But more than that, 
we may even have a few free samples of our New products for after the party,
so make sure to stick around!"

This time, a bit of excitement picks up in the crowd,
and he smiles, nodding to them.



"Now, without further ado,
let's get this show on the road

and really show you what Gradient has to offer in the new year!"


He pulls up a remote from his pocket,
wielding it in his other paw,
pointing it up at the projector on the ceiling


pressing a button.

















The projector doesn't turn on.








Wolf tilts his head hardly an inch.



Pressing the button again.















Still nothing.



"...Apologies, everyone,
we seem to be having a few... technical--"

The spotlights gradually move away from the cat,
traveling downstage






stopping on an empty spot.






Nothing there.

The crowd murmurs.




"...Excuse me,
...lights?
Could I ask who's running the li--"



The illuminated space on the stage






twinkles with yellow lights,

flitting about like fireflies.









"I'm sorry, could...

...someone check...the..."





The lights crackle audibly,

as they begin to form together.










Growing brighter


more colorful.












A drumroll echoes,






not coming from any speakers.













Blinding light forms a shape

sparking.




Some stand up from their tables.

Most stay seated. It must be part of the presentation.














The light dissipates in one final flash.


The audience gasps.











A body drops from the light,
nearly falling as it lands unsteadily on its feet.


A bipedal balloon dog.
With a painted-on face, that still somehow animates:

A Flexin.



This one, only three or four feet tall.
Bright teal, with patterns of white and gold.

A yellow halo bobbing above its head,
with tiny, matching wings floating behind its back.







A spiked collar around its neck.
Silver, with sky blue points. 




Its leg is dangerously leaking air.








Disembodied, cartoonish fanfare plays once the flexin spawns in.
Confetti drops across the stage.

Both recede into nothing within a moment.








The projector flicks on, blinding the balloon dog.

It raises its hand in front of its face to block the light,
but it shines straight through, tinted by the flexin's translucent surface.






It stumbles a step to the side.

Dazed.

Shaky breath.







Barely upright.








Looking out at the audience.












"........Sss... Sa... lem...?"





It collapses with a dull squeak.















































































































Bones's eyes are open,
ever-so-slightly.

It doesn't remember how long they have been.









They scan across the room.

Stale walls. Curtains across a window; dark outside.
Chair to the side.
Television on the wall in front.
Machines... beeping nearby.




Hospital room.








It must've survived the fall.






But-











It tries to sit up,
only to twitch with pain.

Its leg hurts.
And its arm is caught on something.


It checks.












An IV, plugged into-

No, it's-




It looks almost like
an air pump, or condenser of some kind.

The sort you might use to fill up tires, but more... medical.
On a stand.









why would-

It raises its arm carefully.












It stares at


the




balloon-like      arm.



Plastic, or PVC, or
something thinner.

It doesn't know much about-





But this can't be its arm.




It might move when it tries to move its arm,
Bones might be able to feel it,
but

that can't be its arm.












It checks the clock on the bedside table.

It's 12:48 AM.

There's a phone on the same stand,
but it's just far enough away that it'd need to get Out of the hospital bed to reach it.






It

can figure all this out.





This likely isn't real, anyway.]]> [You should come]
[I'm on my way]
[Here.]
[?]
[Say words]


                  [was sleep sry]
                  [nah its not rly my thing]
[People you know here]
[Friends]
                  [theyre your friends]
                  [they dont rly know me and i dont rly know them]
[They like when you come hang out]
                  [eh i dunno about that]
                  [look its cool. you hang out]
                  [not my thing. and you need somethin fun 2 do]


[What are you going to do]
                  [i got some of that pineapple cider]
                  [thats as much of a celebration as new year deserves]
[Besides drink]
                  [nothin. play games. like i said its cool]
[Doesn't sound fun]
[Sounds bad]
                  [well i dont do big stuff like you do]
                  [its just a number ticking over anyway]
[When you don't do anything for holidays you get sad]
                  [youre worrying way too much. lol]
                  [its fiiiine. go have fun]
[Tell me you'll have a good time]
                  [i mean im gonna be sitting at home]
                  [woohoo itll be very much fun]
                  [its cool. dwai]
[Then tell me you're good at least]
                  [i said its cool]
[And you're good?]
                  [salem]
[See]
[Sad.]
                  [ok. and]
                  [its the holidays lots of ppl are sad]
                  [boohoo]


[Come to the party]
[It's my party so it's good]
[I swear]
                  [dont wanna be stressed out around strangers]
[You know them]
                  [i hang out with you with them]
                  [they dont talk to me. why would they]
                  [theyre your friends theyre there for u]
                  [just how things work n thats fine]
[They like you]
                  [ok cool. dont wanna go to a party]
[It's better than nothing]
                  [you say that but not to me]
                  [really not as big of a deal as youre making it]
                  [im an adult. i can be a little sad on a holiday]
                  [ill survive]
                  [so go have fun and quit worrying about me]
                  [ok?]
[OK]
                  [cool. thank u]
                  [u can tell me abt it after]




[Left early]
                  [what why]
                  [salem]
                  [i said im good]
                  [????]
                  [did u go home??]
                  [msg me back ok? whered u go]




[Here]
[--LOCATION SHARE--]
[Come here]
                  [what]
[Not a party]
                  [salem thats all the way downtown]
                  [buses arent even running]
[Rails are]
[You can make it]
                  [tell me what its for]
[It's a surprise]
                  [what about the party]
[Party over. Come on]
                  [its not even close to midnight yet]
[Let me do a thing for you]
[I already left]
[Don't want to count down all by myself]


                  [i dont wanna leave]
[It'll just be us]
[I'm by myself]
[Promise]
                  [its cold]
[Won't kill you]
                  [ok but will u]
                  [is this like some elaborate plot to murder me]
[I wouldn't need to do that]
[I have a key to your apartment]
                  [so is that a yes]
[Not tonight]
[You're safe for now]
[Please]


                  [i need to shower and stuff]
[I have time]
                  [you dont need to go to so much trouble for me]
[Too late]
[I'm doing it for me too]
[If that makes you feel better]
                  [what about the party]
[There'll be more]
[Come hang out with me]
                  [ok]
                  [im barely gonna get there before midnight]
                  [will u be ok out there on your own]
[Cornerstore close by]
[I'll hang out there]
[I'll get a slushie]


                  [ok. fine]
                  [be safe ok?]
[Always safe]


























































"...no way in hell."
"Yep.
You can do it. I got through just fine."
"I-" The axolotl rubs its temple,
looking over the gap at the bottom of the chain link fence.

"Okay A: I'm way bigger than you.
B: I wore my good jacket."
"The wing one?"
"Yeah, the wing one.
It's gonna get all torn up from s-

Look, can't we just go down by the docks?"
"Believe it or not, they have better fences down there.
More worried about the boats than the warehouses, I guess.
Plus, the fog's thicker by the water.
If we wanna see fireworks, we need to get up high."



"Look, I

...I'm not lookin' to start off the new year by getting caught up with cops."

"It's completely empty down here."
"Yeah, but--"
"If cops come around they'll just tell us to get down.
Maybe we get a fine at worst."
"And I'm broke! You know I'm broke, I can't-
I get caught with that and I'm--" "I'll pay it."
"...How?"
"End of year. I got a big bonus."
"You're willing to blow it on this?"
"To have a good time with you?
Yeah."
"...I mean, I-
I'd feel fuckin'... bad if you had to--"
"Bones.
It'll be okay.

Trust me."



The crow reaches out her wing-like hand from the other side of the fence.
"C'mon."



The axolotl hesitates,
looking skyward with a shake of its head.



Knowing it's about to say yes.
That it would regardless.



"...fffffffffine.
If it'll make you happy."
"That's the spirit."

"Here.

First..."
It removes its jacket, wincing from the cold.

The axolotl delicately folds it up before passing it under the fence for the bird to take.

"Cool.
This is all I wanted, actually."
"Uh-huh."
"It's a killer jacket."
"You've already got wings, save me some."
"I got, like... 'wing-hands'.
Not the same."
"Too bad."

She tucks the jacket under her arm,
reaching down to help pull the salamander under the fence.





The axolotl gasps.

She freezes.
"What--" "fUCkin, oWw-OW-OW--"

It reaches a hand up,
finding one of its frills pierced by a sharp point of the fence.
"Help, helphelp-fffFF-
GOD--"
"Hold still, hold still. I got it."
The axolotl freezes on command, biting its lip.

Salem quickly and carefully looses the sharp metal point from its frill.
A trickle of blood runs down, dripping on the pavement.
"Done."



The axolotl rubs at it.

"...hate how stupidly sensitive these things are.
Stings like hell anytime I nick one... ugh."
The crow wastes no time in pulling a spare napkin from her pocket,
pressing it against the wound.
"Weren't you wanting a piercing?"
"I mean fuck, you're right.
This was your present, then?"
"Mhm. Happy New Year's."
"Awesome.

...Is whatever you're putting on it sterile?"
"I dunno. It's fine.

Disinfect it later.
Better than bleeding everywhere."

She pulls it away.
"Looks like it stopped anyway."





The crow blinks,
then pats its shoulder as she hands back its jacket.
"Let's go up."
Her head gestures to the ladder.
"...yay."




























The crow reaches the top first, spreading her arms in a stretch.

She reaches into her pocket,
pulling out a cigarette and pinching it between her beak.

"Uh--"



Her head tilts back to the ladder.



Bones is clinging tightly to the top rung. 

"Look, I'm. Like-
Have I told you I can get like,
really bad vertigo?
Like I'm not scared of heights, but like--"

She leans down by the ladder, mumbling past her cigarette.
"I'm n't g'nna l'shoo fall."
"...What?"
The crow reaches out her hand, gesturing for Bones to grab it.



It takes it,
and is swiftly hefted up to the rooftop,
where it clings to the metal surface.

She pulls her cigarette out.
"Look. Roof's almost flat, and it's got railings."
"...Yeah... y-yeah, just like-
I'm--" It takes a breath, snagging a railing and managing a sitting position.
"I'm good, I'm good."

"There ya go."
She plops down next to it,
eliciting the faintest of creaks from the metal roof.



"You uh... sure this roof is like, stable?"

"I've been up here dozens of times."
"Yeah, and I'm way heavier than--"

She reaches over, lightly grabbing its head and turning it to look at her.
"Bones.



All

you've been doing

the whole time 

we've been here

is Worrying.



We're up here.
We made it.
And it's..." She pulls out her phone. "...like twenty minutes to next year.

We're gonna hang out up here for a few more minutes,
because: Look."

She turns its head again.






The bright, colorful lights at the other side of the city reflect across the black water of the lake;
shimmering streaks of gold, red, pink, blue; 

all refracted into hundreds of constantly shifting, confetti-like patterns.

The fog, in turn, lights up with every hue like a smoky aurora,
with not another soul in sight to witness it save for the two of them.







The axolotl stares in awe.




"Surprise."

"...okay. ............Yeah." It slowly smiles.
"There you go.
...It'll look even better when the fireworks start."
"...mhm..."











She glances over at the axolotl,
watching it watch the lake.









Salem puts her cigarette away.





" . . . 


...Which is why I need payment."

It looks over quizzically.

"I'm cold."

"Oh.

I mean,
I GUESS you can borrow my jacket." It plays up the drama.

"It's just my ~O o o nly~ nice thing I Haaave!
But If you're really Rrreally--" "Nope."

She flops against Bones instead.

"You-


 . . . 



Bastard."
"Yea." 
It snickers.
"You're like a parasite."
"I'm a very, very scary parasite.
I'm feeding off your brain."
"That's my chest.
You gonna bite my tits off, then?"
"Yyesss."
"Damn.

Free top surgery."
The crow cracks up, turning her head to the side to try and stop herself.

Bones just looks down at her, meeting her face.

It shakes its head at her slowly.
"And after I worked So hard to get these."
She properly sits up, waving a wing dismissively at it as she desperately works to suppress her giggling.

"Hell of a way to go." 
She bats at its shoulder, cackling,
her laughter gradually turning into a small coughing fit.

"Oh-


Fuck, you good?"


"Your fault.
Making me laugh."
"...I mean, to be fair,
you're like the only person I can ever get with my dumbass jokes."

" . . . 

...You should try actually joking around more with other people.

Like, when you hang out my friends, you're all...
...uptight all of a sudden."
"Eh, I'm not, like, actually funny, it's just--"
"Bones, would you-


 . . . "



" . . .


...What?"





She settles back into her spot against its chest.

"Nothing."


"You... sure you don't--?"
"Not right now."



"...okay."



















The axolotl's eyes glance down at her.

She's not smiling.
Not quite frowning.





" . . . 





...how much time left?"


She pulls out her phone.



"Nine-ish minutes."



"...I got a thing."

"Oh yeah?"





It nods.






"So.
New Year's Thing."
"Resolutions?
Cause I've got none."
"No, who even remembers those like, even a day later?
This is like-
So--" "So."
"...So it's like...

You kinda... review this year a bit.

Like not rating it but just kinda, thoughts on this past year.
And we take turns.
And after that, we take turns talking about like...
what we want for next year."



"...So reviewing last year, then resolutions."

"No, no it's like-
It's not about like, setting yourself up for failure by,
y'know,
making some big goal or whatever.

It's just... 


...like it can be stuff you Hope you do more of,
but you're not making it a big goal,
and it can be other stuff, too.
Stuff you hope happens, stuff you hope you do, stuff you hope is different, just...
How you hope the year'll go."



The crow breathes in the cold air.



"...Okay."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, I wanna."
"Okay, so y--" "You go first, though."
"W-
Why do I hav--" "I need examples."
" . . . 

...fffffair, I guess."

"And go fast. Don't have a lot of time."
"Fast?
But-


Okay, fuck, 


uh..."





The axolotl bounces its foot.





"Okay, this year




sucked


like a whole



whole lot.


Like, there was some good things here n' there-

Like
got my diagnosis- Diagnoses,
and--"
"Wait, like
for your hand stuff?"
"What?

...Oh, 
no. No, like

...brain...

stuff."
"...What did you get?
You didn't talk about that."
"It's-
I don't... wanna, right now.
Just-




Anyway, so-

Mostly sucked.
Mostly on my own.
Mostly cooped up inside.
Mostly doing nothing.
Mostly just... I dunno, deteriorating physically and mentally.
Keep getting depressed and like-

... "

It sees her looking up at itself.



"But-
Like, good stuff, too.
Just...

not a lot.

 . . . 

I think it's more just,
me handling stuff less well, really.

Like... it's somethin' I can fix.
And I'm still doin' therapy; have been the whole year,
so it like-

Yeah.



Anyway, uh



this is

a nice way to end it.
And I'm glad we got some time together this year.

That was... most of the good stuff, honestly,
was just hangin' out with you."






"  .  .  .  "







"...Sorry.
Holidays make me like

sappy.
I dunno.


...Your turn."

"You're fine.
Thinking."








It nods.






Trying not to think too much.










"This year did suck.

Old job fucking fizzling out, like it did.
And everything with Cameron--" 
"Fuck Cameron."
"Fuck Cameron.

And like

health problems.
...You hit thirty and your spine just shrivels up.
Like a raisin."
"You used to sleep on your floor."
"Yeah, how?
I don't know how I did."
"No I mean like,
might be related."

"...Well.

Better not be.



...Only good parts of this year were friend stuff, and going places.

Got to see a few new things.
Do a few new things.

...work made it hard, but
got that figured out now.
Used to the new schedule and, actually getting days off now.

The parties and hangouts and trips together have been the best part.



...And I'm glad you've actually been at some of 'em."



It nods, gaze focused away.







She nudges its shoulder.

"Hey.
I mean it."
"...I know you do."


" . . . 

...That's it, I guess."





Another nudge.

"Next year. Go."


"...uh



Thinkin', sorry."






It steadies itself.









" . . . 

...You want me to be honest?"
"Yes."
"...

...I don't, like

I mean not to be like... a downer, or anything,
but




just



don't have much hope that things'll like




get better.





And since I can't work,
it's not like I've got much control over my situation, or
my life, really, anyway.

So like... if things get better, they get better,
and if they get worse, they get worse."



"...OK.


But this is about what you Want to happen."

"I mean, I-

It's just gonna... make me feel shittier to think about, but it-






 . . . 


...It'd be nice to like, actually make some friends.

Most people're gone already or just don't talk to me anymore.
And I'm... fuckin' awful at talking to other people.

And like I want to, y'know... socialize

talk to people;
I know I'm s'posed to.
And I know I'm Supposed to like, express Myself, but it's like

 . . . 

...nobody's really
buyin' what I'm sellin', or-
Wrong way to use that phrase, just-

I know I'm just
a really, kinda... odd person; and even if I ignore my brain tryin' to tell me that's a bad thing,
it doesn't make it any easier to fit in around other people.

...Bein' the odd one out 
out of literally
every group of anybody that I'm ever around,
and havin' people just like

not really Want that; and why would they?

Like







...I dunno.
Got off topic, I think.


Shit just sucks.



...I hope I make new friends, somehow.

Hope I can... leave the fuckin' apartment without bein' like

...terrified, of



anyone
and everyone;
not even like, 'oh they'll hurt me' but just


like


I don't want anyone to see me...



existing.



I don't wanna fuck up things for anybody.
I don't wanna cause problems.

...I dunno.






...maybe a miracle'll happen.





...sorry.
Downer.
...Things probably aren't that bad, just

feelin' shitty right now. Holidays.






I'm alright."













" . . . 





You don't do any of that.





...I'm just glad you're here."
"I mean, I'm... really glad you're here, t--"
"Want you to see that."

"...yeah...
...your turn. Next year."

"This is part of it. Of mine.


Want you to actually see that I give a- That the people that know you... like you being here.
That it makes a difference.

That you're like..."

She shakes her head.





"...That's part of it.



The rest?







...I want to leave, I think.



This city was what I needed years ago.
But I moved on and I have more I want to do.

I don't wanna be stuck here longer.


There's new things out there to me.
I want to move on."

"...your...

You just got your job figured out, though."
"I can figure out a new one.
Not leaving right this second."
"And you like that apartment you're renting, right?"
"Yeah.
But I was thinking I could find a little house to rent somewhere, eventually."
"It's... just a big change,
and you haven't been here that long.
Things're just now, like... starting to stabilize, for you."
"They can stabilize somewhere else."
"I'd just


...I'd kinda... kill for that, honestly.
Moving around everywhere sucks."

She shrugs, leaning to the side against it to better see the lake.






"You sure it's not just, like

cause moving around's what you've been used to?
Like... I bet it probably feels weird, staying in one place a while."

" . . . 

I feel restless, anyway.
The reason doesn't really matter.

And I still want more."










"...If you left...



 . . . "







"...You could come with me, you know."







"...I can't make money..."








"I'd help."







"I don't... wanna do that to you."







"I'm offering."






"...I..."




















Fireworks explode in the distance,
barely visible.



The crow pulls out her phone.

"...They started early.


Thirty seconds til, now."




She squints at the horizon.





Then, she stands up.

"Hey-
Careful--"
"Fog's in the way otherwise.
...I can just barely see over it like this.

You'd probably have a perfect view."
"I... dunno, the like... vertigo--"
"Here."



She reaches down a wing hand.



"Watch the fireworks with me.
I want you to."
"Salem--"
"I'm not gonna let you fall."
"But you might fall,
it's not worth--"
"I won't.

And you won't let me, either, right?"











The axolotl hesitates




then reaches up a shaky hand

to take hers.










She pulls it up slowly, carefully.
Making sure it's steady.


"Lean back just a little bit.

If you feel like you're getting vertigo,
just let your legs drop.

You won't fall off."

"O-O...kay..."




















They stand in silence.

















Watching the fireworks.
















She looks at her phone.










"...I'd miss you, too."

Bones glances over.

"If you didn't come with me."





" . . . "











"...think about it."








".........yeah...."















"...Okay.
And-




Ten." "..."



"Nine." "..."



"Eight." "..."



"Seven." "..."



"Six." "...Six."


She squeezes its hand.


"Five." "Five."



"Four." "Four."


It closes its eyes.


"Three." "Three."




"Two." "Two."






"One." "One."


The brightest of fireworks flashes across the lake.











"Happy--"


The roof collapses out from under them.



















































cognition

fades   in















Bones is


vertical




















Hanging by




















Its jacket.


The shoulder of its jacket.






Caught on a bent metal rafter



inside the warehouse.














It's panting heavily.









It remembers the fall.




Ignoring everything else,
the axolotl looks about the warehouse


eventually spotting the crow



not all that far away 






to the side



on the floor








not moving.















"SALEM!!"


The beam its caught on suddenly bends as it flails.

Bones gasps, looking up.




The threads of the jacket sleeve are starting to rip.

The beam bends further, creaking loudly.




It looks directly below itself.






A large, square container there - at least four feet taller than Bones.

Its walls almost seem translucent.

It squints at them,
spotting a glint in the light.


glass.






With a whimper,
the axolotl looks back up,
spotting another beam within reach above itself.

Carefully,

it reaches.















The beam suddenly bends with a metallic cacophony.

The sleeve rips.









It falls,
ripping straight through the container's ceiling
as if it were made of cardboard.







It yelps in pain as it lands, quickly checking over itself

finding less cuts than it'd expected.








And no shards of glass.
Nothing of the sort.

Looking up, the hole doesn't make it look like glass, either;
not having broken in any way that glass might.
It has a slight iridescence in the light.




salem.


Bones stands



and falls back down with a sharp cry.






Blood drips through the leg of its jeans,
forming a small puddle.

It hurts like hell.


The axolotl groans, tensing on instinct.





"Sss-
Sa-lem...!
Are y-
Are you okay?!"

No response.

"...fff...ffuck, ...fuck fuck fuck..."

With shaky breath, it tries to steel itself to get back up,
unsure if it can.

It has to.



















It stops.









A claw grasps the top of its head.





Bones can't move anymore.

"Not one of them, then?"


Bones realizes it is no longer breathing.

But it doesn't feel like it's choking.


"No, not at all.
Clueless.


And yet,

your accident
happened to free me

on such an occasion."



Bones finds itself able to move
just barely.
Resuming breathing.

Heavy, staggered.

It still can't stand, or pull away, or do much of anything.



Yet,
it finds itself lifted up,
into the air.

Turned to face the voice.

"It must be fate."




It can't see much.

A serpent-like figure; long, slender, tall; far taller than itself.
Short, thin limbs.
Patterns that shift like liquid, rings of light;
silver, sky blue.



A smile without teeth.






It can't see more.
It's dark.
It's growing darker.



It can hear its own blood dripping.
Even thinking about its leg causes it to hurt again.
It fails to suppress a whimper.





The stranger watches its leg.

Drip.

Drip.







"You'll die soon, won't you?

Fragile things."


They simply stare.
As if this means nothing.

Taking their time to think, while it bleeds out.



"Without my intervention, you will.
...Hmm.


I suppose I could
take on a project.
I'll need something to do
with my newfound freedom.

And besides,

I'm very curious
about how You
relate to Me.

It couldn't be a coincidence."



Bones

does its best to put up the slightest of struggles.
Hardly conscious, at this point.

One thing on its mind.



"...You would rather die?

That seems foolish."



The figure tilts its head,
leaning in.

"...No.

Something 
you want.






...Very well.

An exchange.



She likely would 
survive
without my help


but I will
ensure it.

I know
you will say Yes."



The figure's spare claw reaches into their own pattern,
pulling at their hide,
as one of the rings of light unravels;

pulled out like a string.





They wrap it around the axolotl's neck.


The string disappears.



Something else is there, now.
But Bones can't tell what.




"And just like that,
your thread 
ties to mine.


I look forward to You 
seeing Me 
once more.



Until then,
let's see 
where your fate leads,



Shall we?"







The figure reaches their clawtip forward




and taps the axolotl's forehead.












Bones sees








vast oceans










a wave






cr



































































































The last tray

at the far, far end of the buffet line


contains a gelatin dessert;
molded into a ridged ring shape.

Deep, black-blue, 
with tiny chunks of various other colors;

twinkling in the light like multicolored stars.







Currently untouched.









"...See?
I told you nobody would eat it."
Muriel shakes her head with a sigh.
"...I'll just take it home after this, then.
Norm'll eat it.

...I should go cover it back up."

She scoots her chair out, readying herself to get up from the table,
only for the woman next to her to put a hand on her shoulder.

"Oh, stop, Muriel.
Honestly...

It's only because you kept the foil on until twenty minutes ago.
Everyone already went through the line an hour ago; saw it covered up--"
"Well!
It's not like they would've eaten it, anyway."
"Oh you don't know that." She waves a paw dismissively.

Muriel puts her elbow on the table, resting her chin on her hand.

Staring at the buffet line.

"I mean it, Deb.
...I just don't think I got the flavor right.
The black cherry mix with those little... glitter-y gummy candies;
it makes it look like fireworks - I think so, at least -
but I don't know if the flavors work together.

It's probably too sweet..."
"Oh, it's fiiine, I'm sure.

And it looks lovely."
"...you think so?"
"Sure do.

Just leave it out til the end of the party.
You'll see."










A man approaches the buffet line, eyeing the desserts.

Deb nudges Muriel.
"There, there; look.
I bet Donny'll take a piece right now."






With bated breath,
the two women watch the bored, slouching man
hover over the dessert trays.

Scattered chatter the only sound in the room.















He delicately takes the serving knife




and cuts off a piece of gelatin dessert.




And then,

a second piece.






"Two!
He took two.

I told you so."

Muriel's gaze follows the bored man to his seat

at his table, 
by himself.



Continuing to observe.


"What's wrong now?"
"...He still may not like it, Deb."
"See, now you're being paranoid."


Her eyes fix on the man, 
and his plate
and his slices.








With his fork,
he pulls up a bite


watching the gelatin wobble about strangely.






He bites.



Swallows.





















Without any hint of expression,

he carves apart the next piece with his fork,
inspecting it like an open geode.







He reaches his fingers in

digging out a piece of twinkling gummy candy,
which he eats


by itself.



Repeating the process.

Again, 
again.









Muriel's shoulders droop.

"...I told you."
"Oh, don't think about at Donny.
Bad example; look at him!
He's eating at it like a... worm, or something. Digging around.
Who does that?"
"The flavors don't work."
"What kind of judge of that is he?
Here-" Deb stands. "I want a slice--"
"No, noooo, it's fine--"







The lights in the open dining room dim,

while the lights on the little stage brighten.










Someone makes their way up onto the stage,
picking up the microphone from the stand.




They clear their throat.

"Thank you all for coming to another Gradient End-of-year Party.
I won't lie and say it hasn't been a tough year for our company,
and while it will always be tough to continue without Mx. Osborne;
we are strong. 
Gradient is strong.
Even in just the last few months, we've had quite a turnaround.
...And we have you all to thank for that."

They adjust their glasses in silence.

"At any rate, 
I know I'm looking forward to another successful year,
and I'm sure you are, too.
...But, I'm not who you should hear from tonight.

You should hear, tonight, from the man most responsible for our success in this difficult time;
Our Managing Director and Spokesman,

Mr. Wolf Wedmore."



They clap,
and others in the audience follow suit,

as a suited, gray feline makes his way up towards the stage,
giving the occasional wave to tables he passes.






He reaches the stage,
giving another wave and a smile to the audience,
as he fluidly removes the mic from the stand,

propping it confidently into the air.




" . . . 

Well, hi there. Good to see you all.

I'm sure those of you, at this branch,
weren't expecting to see me here.
I can only be at One... company-mandated holiday party at once, can't I?
How did I choose?


Well.
The truth is-
Believe it or not,
this branch - Sirocco Branch, your branch -
had our most successful profit margins in every fiscal quarter of this past year.
All of You achieved that,
so I think you owe yourselves a round of applause."

He tilts the microphone away as the crowd applauds themselves,
tapping his free paw to his wrist to join in with the them.

"...Now,
seeing as you all have earned such an outstanding achievement,
I think you're owed an extra treat.
We have this party, of course - but that's every year, isn't it?

So, I thought
'Why not something special?'

As I'm sure you know, 
we have a yearly preview of our new products and services;
every year, with our board of directors and various investors.
We film it.
We send it out a few days later in our monthly email to all of our employees;
showing you just a taste of what Gradient has in store.

But this year...
We have our presentation ready; right now, right in this room,
for all of you.

Of course, our cameras in the back-" He points them out. "-are filming this,
to show to our board;
but you, Sirocco, get to see our yearly Gradient Showcase,
live in person!"

He claps again.
Some follow suit.




A projector screen descends behind him.

"Yes, it's quite a privilege, of course.

But more than that, 
we may even have a few free samples of our New products for after the party,
so make sure to stick around!"

This time, a bit of excitement picks up in the crowd,
and he smiles, nodding to them.



"Now, without further ado,
let's get this show on the road

and really show you what Gradient has to offer in the new year!"


He pulls up a remote from his pocket,
wielding it in his other paw,
pointing it up at the projector on the ceiling


pressing a button.

















The projector doesn't turn on.








Wolf tilts his head hardly an inch.



Pressing the button again.















Still nothing.



"...Apologies, everyone,
we seem to be having a few... technical--"

The spotlights gradually move away from the cat,
traveling downstage






stopping on an empty spot.






Nothing there.

The crowd murmurs.




"...Excuse me,
...lights?
Could I ask who's running the li--"



The illuminated space on the stage






twinkles with yellow lights,

flitting about like fireflies.









"I'm sorry, could...

...someone check...the..."





The lights crackle audibly,

as they begin to form together.










Growing brighter


more colorful.












A drumroll echoes,






not coming from any speakers.













Blinding light forms a shape

sparking.




Some stand up from their tables.

Most stay seated. It must be part of the presentation.














The light dissipates in one final flash.


The audience gasps.











A body drops from the light,
nearly falling as it lands unsteadily on its feet.


A bipedal balloon dog.
With a painted-on face, that still somehow animates:

A Flexin.



This one, only three or four feet tall.
Bright teal, with patterns of white and gold.

A yellow halo bobbing above its head,
with tiny, matching wings floating behind its back.







A spiked collar around its neck.
Silver, with sky blue points. 




Its leg is dangerously leaking air.








Disembodied, cartoonish fanfare plays once the flexin spawns in.
Confetti drops across the stage.

Both recede into nothing within a moment.








The projector flicks on, blinding the balloon dog.

It raises its hand in front of its face to block the light,
but it shines straight through, tinted by the flexin's translucent surface.






It stumbles a step to the side.

Dazed.

Shaky breath.







Barely upright.








Looking out at the audience.












"........Sss... Sa... lem...?"





It collapses with a dull squeak.















































































































Bones's eyes are open,
ever-so-slightly.

It doesn't remember how long they have been.









They scan across the room.

Stale walls. Curtains across a window; dark outside.
Chair to the side.
Television on the wall in front.
Machines... beeping nearby.




Hospital room.








It must've survived the fall.






But-











It tries to sit up,
only to twitch with pain.

Its leg hurts.
And its arm is caught on something.


It checks.












An IV, plugged into-

No, it's-




It looks almost like
an air pump, or condenser of some kind.

The sort you might use to fill up tires, but more... medical.
On a stand.









why would-

It raises its arm carefully.












It stares at


the




balloon-like      arm.



Plastic, or PVC, or
something thinner.

It doesn't know much about-





But this can't be its arm.




It might move when it tries to move its arm,
Bones might be able to feel it,
but

that can't be its arm.












It checks the clock on the bedside table.

It's 12:48 AM.

There's a phone on the same stand,
but it's just far enough away that it'd need to get Out of the hospital bed to reach it.






It

can figure all this out.





This likely isn't real, anyway.]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-959.html Mon, 28 Jul 2025 19:22:00 +0000 SHIVERS]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-959.html You've been here two weeks.





It's Monday.

And it's too early to get up yet.












You've become very acquainted with the cracked blue paint on the ceiling of your new bedroom.
It has entirely splayed out at points, with several peels curling far enough outward to curl in on themselves.



You wonder what makes it do that.

You keep thinking a piece will crack off and fall onto your new bed as you sleep.
But, it hasn't happened yet.





You wonder what would possess someone to paint the room blue in a place this cold.

Maybe blue was somehow mandated.
Maybe someone wanted to paint the room, and blue was the only color they had available.
Maybe someone just really loved blue.





You'd heard that this site had been first built by some military or another.

But who the hell would even find something to guard, this far into the middle of nowhere?



There was something here now.
But they'd built it.
Or at least, moved it here.





Maybe this frozen hellscape had once not been frozen.

Maybe, somehow, this had been a naval outpost.
Or something.










Maybe they were just fools,
building this horrible place.

And maybe the people who decided to use it again -
the ones who painted your ceiling blue, whoever they were -
were also fools.

Maybe your employers are fools,
for taking this place and setting it up again.









Maybe you are,
for ever studying any of what landed you here in the first place.



Two weeks into the first job-
Two weeks into the first hands-on job in your field.
Two weeks into what should've been your career,

and you're cracking.

You read somewhere once
that without stimulation, the brain could end up hallucinating.
You can't stop thinking about that.

It's repeated so much in your head, now, that you swear the thought has its own voice.

You can't stop thinking about




























You'd been so enthusiastic.





oh sure, im used to being alone
Fool.

my biggest problem will probably just be fighting boredom hahaha
 -Dumbass

the pay is so good too itll be worth it = dipshit.








If you could do it all over again

If you were less incompetent












God, if only you could









If you could







































Please

I know it's my fault but i dont wanttoSTAYanymore






please


















could someone hear me




if i thought about it


hard enough  ?













































Interesting breakdown.

Not the worst, not the best.
Less bad than the last one, at least.

4/10 Short but sweet.








OK.


You should get out of bed.



'Let's get up, please,' you tell yourself in your head.

You say it again when no muscles move; without the 'please' this time.








You turn your head and look at the clock.




It's about that time, anyway.

You reach to stop the alarm clock before it goes off,
only to realize you hadn't turned it back on after your weekend.

You're not surprised.







You aren't sure you slept at all.

You haven't been sleeping well.




You drag yourself out of bed, not bothering to put on anything other than the pajamas you were already wearing.

With that,
you leave your bedroom and make your way into the work room.









You can tell by the thin horizontal window at the side of the room that it's still dark outside.

It won't be light again for another few hours.
You wish you'd gotten used to this already.
It still made you feel uneasy.

You take a moment and stare out into the dark grey expanse of snow.


You hated looking outside;
you'd already found out the hard way that the longer you stared outside, the more your brain would assure that you were about to see something there.

But, you felt compelled to look outside at least once per morning.

A little ritual of yours. A survey to make sure everything at least looks fine.



Just as every day: There's nothing out of the ordinary, and nothing much in general.
The usual couple of buildings that happened to be in view of the window, the usual scarce handful of lights and lightposts that dotted the area outside.

Nothing else.







With that out of the way, you let yourself have a quick stretch,
then step over to one of the several drawers in the corner, and pull it open.





You sift between the many binders inside, grab one,

and unzip it.



Your hand thumbs through the various plastic pages lined with discs,
searching.







You pull out a random one you're sure you haven't tried yet.


You make your way to the table in the corner,
and pop the CD into the little boom box.








 

▶ Diving Woman
Japanese Breakfast

As you let the music play, you finally turn on the PC at the center desk,
watching as its three monitors light up.


As you do, your schedule is the first thing to pop up.


8:00 AM: ANALYZE MARKS



Turning your eye and cursor to the other monitor,
you glance at the recent files; 
the footage you took personally on Friday, and the many hours of security camera footage from the last two or three days.

No marks on any of it today.
Unsurprising.




You click the task box, adding a green check mark to the end.


The next task pops up automatically.



8:00 AM - 10:00AM: ANALYZE FOOTAGE








Why?


What footage was there to analyze, exactly?


The tiny bit that was intact from the last expedition?
There's nothing to see.
And you already gave your report, if you could even call it that.

Random camera footage from around the station, then?
For two hours?
There isn't enough cash in the world for that.





So, two free hours, then.

That's almost worse.




You can manage it, though.







You don't really feel in the mood for a movie right now;
you need something to help wake you up.






With a quick walk back to the drawers,
you open a different one and rifle through it,

trying to wait until one of the video game cases looked interesting.




Nothing in particular grabs your attention.



Instead, you pull out a random assortment of cases without looking at them,
and gently drop them onto the couch.












You close your eyes 







and let your hand drift towards one.]]> You've been here two weeks.





It's Monday.

And it's too early to get up yet.












You've become very acquainted with the cracked blue paint on the ceiling of your new bedroom.
It has entirely splayed out at points, with several peels curling far enough outward to curl in on themselves.



You wonder what makes it do that.

You keep thinking a piece will crack off and fall onto your new bed as you sleep.
But, it hasn't happened yet.





You wonder what would possess someone to paint the room blue in a place this cold.

Maybe blue was somehow mandated.
Maybe someone wanted to paint the room, and blue was the only color they had available.
Maybe someone just really loved blue.





You'd heard that this site had been first built by some military or another.

But who the hell would even find something to guard, this far into the middle of nowhere?



There was something here now.
But they'd built it.
Or at least, moved it here.





Maybe this frozen hellscape had once not been frozen.

Maybe, somehow, this had been a naval outpost.
Or something.










Maybe they were just fools,
building this horrible place.

And maybe the people who decided to use it again -
the ones who painted your ceiling blue, whoever they were -
were also fools.

Maybe your employers are fools,
for taking this place and setting it up again.









Maybe you are,
for ever studying any of what landed you here in the first place.



Two weeks into the first job-
Two weeks into the first hands-on job in your field.
Two weeks into what should've been your career,

and you're cracking.

You read somewhere once
that without stimulation, the brain could end up hallucinating.
You can't stop thinking about that.

It's repeated so much in your head, now, that you swear the thought has its own voice.

You can't stop thinking about




























You'd been so enthusiastic.





oh sure, im used to being alone
Fool.

my biggest problem will probably just be fighting boredom hahaha
 -Dumbass

the pay is so good too itll be worth it = dipshit.








If you could do it all over again

If you were less incompetent












God, if only you could









If you could







































Please

I know it's my fault but i dont wanttoSTAYanymore






please


















could someone hear me




if i thought about it


hard enough  ?













































Interesting breakdown.

Not the worst, not the best.
Less bad than the last one, at least.

4/10 Short but sweet.








OK.


You should get out of bed.



'Let's get up, please,' you tell yourself in your head.

You say it again when no muscles move; without the 'please' this time.








You turn your head and look at the clock.




It's about that time, anyway.

You reach to stop the alarm clock before it goes off,
only to realize you hadn't turned it back on after your weekend.

You're not surprised.







You aren't sure you slept at all.

You haven't been sleeping well.




You drag yourself out of bed, not bothering to put on anything other than the pajamas you were already wearing.

With that,
you leave your bedroom and make your way into the work room.









You can tell by the thin horizontal window at the side of the room that it's still dark outside.

It won't be light again for another few hours.
You wish you'd gotten used to this already.
It still made you feel uneasy.

You take a moment and stare out into the dark grey expanse of snow.


You hated looking outside;
you'd already found out the hard way that the longer you stared outside, the more your brain would assure that you were about to see something there.

But, you felt compelled to look outside at least once per morning.

A little ritual of yours. A survey to make sure everything at least looks fine.



Just as every day: There's nothing out of the ordinary, and nothing much in general.
The usual couple of buildings that happened to be in view of the window, the usual scarce handful of lights and lightposts that dotted the area outside.

Nothing else.







With that out of the way, you let yourself have a quick stretch,
then step over to one of the several drawers in the corner, and pull it open.





You sift between the many binders inside, grab one,

and unzip it.



Your hand thumbs through the various plastic pages lined with discs,
searching.







You pull out a random one you're sure you haven't tried yet.


You make your way to the table in the corner,
and pop the CD into the little boom box.








 

▶ Diving Woman
Japanese Breakfast

As you let the music play, you finally turn on the PC at the center desk,
watching as its three monitors light up.


As you do, your schedule is the first thing to pop up.


8:00 AM: ANALYZE MARKS



Turning your eye and cursor to the other monitor,
you glance at the recent files; 
the footage you took personally on Friday, and the many hours of security camera footage from the last two or three days.

No marks on any of it today.
Unsurprising.




You click the task box, adding a green check mark to the end.


The next task pops up automatically.



8:00 AM - 10:00AM: ANALYZE FOOTAGE








Why?


What footage was there to analyze, exactly?


The tiny bit that was intact from the last expedition?
There's nothing to see.
And you already gave your report, if you could even call it that.

Random camera footage from around the station, then?
For two hours?
There isn't enough cash in the world for that.





So, two free hours, then.

That's almost worse.




You can manage it, though.







You don't really feel in the mood for a movie right now;
you need something to help wake you up.






With a quick walk back to the drawers,
you open a different one and rifle through it,

trying to wait until one of the video game cases looked interesting.




Nothing in particular grabs your attention.



Instead, you pull out a random assortment of cases without looking at them,
and gently drop them onto the couch.












You close your eyes 







and let your hand drift towards one.]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-950.html Mon, 05 May 2025 20:33:57 +0000 SHIVERS]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-950.html Your many eyes blink awake.







You are under some blankets, up against something warm.
The texture is nice.

You stretch a tendril out of the blanket, raising it up high to view your surroundings.



You are in a bedroom.
It's very dark, despite the clock by the bed showing 11:41 AM.
The curtains on the window are very thick, blocking out almost all light.
You like it that way.

It's quiet, too.
The walls are lined with more blankets, cheap rugs, and other various sound-blocking objects.
Posters are hung up along them, instead of being attached to the wall.

A rotating fan in the corner of the room adds low volume white noise. Consistent and calming.
It's been running all night and all morning, though.
The room is chilly, now.







You are still up against something warm.

A black-furred hare sleeps in the bed.
This creature's name is Violet.

You are attached to Violet's shadow.
You know that this is New, somehow, even if you can't remember how things used to be.

But, you feel comfortable where you are.
You do know that.









You are also: Bored.

Violet is still asleep.
You should find something to do.

In the room, you see a computer at a desk, a phone on the nightstand, a videogame console connected to the television in the corner,
and a handheld haphazardly dropped under the bed.
The television also has rabbit ears, so it may have access to local channels.
Lots of options, all electronics. Violet must like those, you think.

You could try to wake Violet up, instead.
It's almost noon, after all.

You just know you need something to entertain yourself, or you won't survive.



You think you had a name before, too,
but you'd like a new one.
You should find an identity, while you're entertaining yourself.










Something nags at you, though.

More than anything,
more than Anything at all,
you know that you need More.

It's a dim pang deep within you.
Ever-present, beyond a want.
You know you'll have to tend to it, when the time comes.

More of what, you aren't sure yet.





You'll figure it out.
Soon enough.]]> Your many eyes blink awake.







You are under some blankets, up against something warm.
The texture is nice.

You stretch a tendril out of the blanket, raising it up high to view your surroundings.



You are in a bedroom.
It's very dark, despite the clock by the bed showing 11:41 AM.
The curtains on the window are very thick, blocking out almost all light.
You like it that way.

It's quiet, too.
The walls are lined with more blankets, cheap rugs, and other various sound-blocking objects.
Posters are hung up along them, instead of being attached to the wall.

A rotating fan in the corner of the room adds low volume white noise. Consistent and calming.
It's been running all night and all morning, though.
The room is chilly, now.







You are still up against something warm.

A black-furred hare sleeps in the bed.
This creature's name is Violet.

You are attached to Violet's shadow.
You know that this is New, somehow, even if you can't remember how things used to be.

But, you feel comfortable where you are.
You do know that.









You are also: Bored.

Violet is still asleep.
You should find something to do.

In the room, you see a computer at a desk, a phone on the nightstand, a videogame console connected to the television in the corner,
and a handheld haphazardly dropped under the bed.
The television also has rabbit ears, so it may have access to local channels.
Lots of options, all electronics. Violet must like those, you think.

You could try to wake Violet up, instead.
It's almost noon, after all.

You just know you need something to entertain yourself, or you won't survive.



You think you had a name before, too,
but you'd like a new one.
You should find an identity, while you're entertaining yourself.










Something nags at you, though.

More than anything,
more than Anything at all,
you know that you need More.

It's a dim pang deep within you.
Ever-present, beyond a want.
You know you'll have to tend to it, when the time comes.

More of what, you aren't sure yet.





You'll figure it out.
Soon enough.]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-933.html Tue, 22 Oct 2024 02:18:42 +0000 SHIVERS]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-933.html FILL OUT ALL FIELDS

NAME:
PRONOUNS:
OCCUPATION (IF ANY):
REASON FOR TRAVEL/STAY:

CABIN SELECTION:
 1   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10   11   12
(crossed out numbers are unavailable)]]> FILL OUT ALL FIELDS

NAME:
PRONOUNS:
OCCUPATION (IF ANY):
REASON FOR TRAVEL/STAY:

CABIN SELECTION:
 1   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10   11   12
(crossed out numbers are unavailable)]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-917.html Wed, 21 Aug 2024 19:16:45 +0000 ThreadLurkingComorant]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-917.html A Thread for Previews of Various Upcoming Projects and Twines!

Table of Contents:
- Styx and Gallows Make Out [Working Title]
by BaftComorant]]> A Thread for Previews of Various Upcoming Projects and Twines!

Table of Contents:
- Styx and Gallows Make Out [Working Title]
by BaftComorant]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-915.html Mon, 08 Jul 2024 02:40:51 +0000 skinstealer]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-915.html

[image description: a cover image for the first issue of maze trials 2.0, named "the food chain." a rusty colored abstract type TCP wrestles with a smaller golden TCP, the latter wearing a light gold hat and a dark blue trenchoat. both are wearing trialgoer jumpsuits, have distinct kill marks, and are entangled in strange white wires. red and blue splatters serve as a backdrop piece.]

...It's the same as ever.


The only sound Corrosion hears is the sound of her footsteps- and her own mind racing. She'd overheard a conversation before striking in the last trial- two TCPs frantically updating each other on their recent experiences. Nothing new- and it gave her the perfect opportunity to get impressions.

Turns out, panicked people get a lot more sloppy when they're ambushed. Shit reaction speed. More scrambly.

Easy pickings.

And yet...





The rumors are stupid. I got no business listening to these idiots at this point. No reason at all.

"It's getting worse!" As if it hasn't been like this forever. Give me a fucking break.

Must be newbies who don't know shit about what they're talking about.

...I would'a heard about it. I've been here longer than fucking anyone I've met, and I don't know what the hell they're on about.

"Overseers gone rogue." Dream on.


And yet it sticks in the back of her mind.

They had talked about the voice on the intercom...changing. Sounding less mechanical, rigid. As if it was a person.


That's how they fucking get you. If that was real, it'd just be a trick anyway. Something to make you like them- or hate them, whatever's fucking easier. Idiots.


TCPs coming into a room, only to find fresh fluid splatters with no sign of those little...dusty things left when someone died- but way too much to be a normal injury. Horrible feelings of dread as they walk around the mess...


...and no way to tell what did it. Like nothing anybody's seen before.

But- it's bullshit! Stupid bullshit! Fucking- fairy tales!

Try and focus more on living and you won't get jumped by people like me.

...or don't. Makes my life easier.

'Least they stopped giving me puzzle chambers.


She preferred these a lot more.

At the end of the hallway, there's a raised platform and a dead end. It's the same too- she'd gotten a bunch of these in a row. By now, she had settled into a relatively comfortable routine. Nothing she can't handle.

The possession type TCP steps on to the platform, cracking her neck as it starts to rise.

 

[image description: corrosion, the rusty colored possession type TCP, stands on a trial platform. she looks on edge but stiffly posed, a knife holster on her leg.]

As the makeshift elevator goes up, a pool of dread forms in her belly.

Stupid, stupid! Get a fucking grip!

You really gonna let those morons get to you?

Do your job!

The arena comes into view, bit by bit, Corro reaching for the knife in her leg holster. She can still remember every fluid stain she'd spilled, even with the trial chamber cleared. It's a simple square room, no different than the average...but she knows what it is.

She's the overseers' gladiator, and she had to give them a show.

On the other side of the arena, another platform rises- her opponent.

...what the fuck?

 

[image description: an over the shoulder shot of corrosion seeing her new opponent. he's across the room, a golden TCP with a lighter colored hat- and wearing a dark blue trenchcoat. his features are obscured.]

 

He's scrawny. A little TCP in a stupid hat, wearing a long coat and shoving his hands in his pockets. If it wasn't for the...one, two, three, four- eight no-regret kill marks on his face, she would have thought this was a fucking joke. Garbage day or something, and he was the trash.

He doesn't move as both of their platforms reach ground level of the arena, cocking his head in a sly expression.

 

[image description: the golden TCP stands with his hands in his pockets, looking casual. 4 no-regret kill marks are distinctly visible on his face, with more partially obscured.]

????: My new opponent.
????: What's your name?

 

Who does h-

CORROSION: My name?
CORROSION: Why the fuck do you need to know that?!
????: Only right for me to get the names of the people I kill.
????: Courtesy, right?
????: My name's Garland.
????: What's yours?

 

Corro wants to hit him so hard that the smugness in his voice gets knocked right out of him.

Prick...

CORROSION: You're actin' real noble for someone with marks like that.
CORROSION: Think you're some kind of saint? Like this is justice, or something?
GARLAND: You're playing tough for someone with two less kill marks-

 

He makes a soft chuckle.

GARLAND: And two of them regretted.

 

The possession type takes a step forward, absolutely seething.

CORROSION: Are you here to talk, or FIGHT?!
CORROSION: Get over here and stop playing games!
GARLAND: But it's all games, right?
GARLAND: And they've gotten worse.
GARLAND: You're in the same boat as me, I'm guessing.
GARLAND: Haven't you noticed?
GARLAND: Or are you just terrible at paying attention.
 

Shut up shut up shut up shut UP

CORROSION: Even-
CORROSION: Even if that were true-
CORROSION: And it's NOT
CORROSION: What's the point in saying it? In running your goddamn mouth?!
GARLAND: Because they're not satisfied with maiming anymore.
GARLAND: Two of these kills?

 

He tilts his head in the other direction, making sure she can see the marks clearer.

GARLAND: In the past five trials alone.

 

Corro starts counting in her mind, despite every last instinct in her telling her not to let him get to her.


...
....
He's right.
No! No, that's-
That's bullshit!


He makes another soft chuckle, enjoying watching her sweat.

GARLAND: Do you like being a puppet for them?
GARLAND: Never questioning anything-
CORROSION: That's enough out of you.
GARLAND: Why? I think you'd make a great one.
GARLAND: They love to watch an abstract type dance.
CORROSION: That's ENOUGH!

 

With an exasperated scream, she charges, knife held and ready to go for the first thing she can reach.

]]>

[image description: a cover image for the first issue of maze trials 2.0, named "the food chain." a rusty colored abstract type TCP wrestles with a smaller golden TCP, the latter wearing a light gold hat and a dark blue trenchoat. both are wearing trialgoer jumpsuits, have distinct kill marks, and are entangled in strange white wires. red and blue splatters serve as a backdrop piece.]

...It's the same as ever.


The only sound Corrosion hears is the sound of her footsteps- and her own mind racing. She'd overheard a conversation before striking in the last trial- two TCPs frantically updating each other on their recent experiences. Nothing new- and it gave her the perfect opportunity to get impressions.

Turns out, panicked people get a lot more sloppy when they're ambushed. Shit reaction speed. More scrambly.

Easy pickings.

And yet...





The rumors are stupid. I got no business listening to these idiots at this point. No reason at all.

"It's getting worse!" As if it hasn't been like this forever. Give me a fucking break.

Must be newbies who don't know shit about what they're talking about.

...I would'a heard about it. I've been here longer than fucking anyone I've met, and I don't know what the hell they're on about.

"Overseers gone rogue." Dream on.


And yet it sticks in the back of her mind.

They had talked about the voice on the intercom...changing. Sounding less mechanical, rigid. As if it was a person.


That's how they fucking get you. If that was real, it'd just be a trick anyway. Something to make you like them- or hate them, whatever's fucking easier. Idiots.


TCPs coming into a room, only to find fresh fluid splatters with no sign of those little...dusty things left when someone died- but way too much to be a normal injury. Horrible feelings of dread as they walk around the mess...


...and no way to tell what did it. Like nothing anybody's seen before.

But- it's bullshit! Stupid bullshit! Fucking- fairy tales!

Try and focus more on living and you won't get jumped by people like me.

...or don't. Makes my life easier.

'Least they stopped giving me puzzle chambers.


She preferred these a lot more.

At the end of the hallway, there's a raised platform and a dead end. It's the same too- she'd gotten a bunch of these in a row. By now, she had settled into a relatively comfortable routine. Nothing she can't handle.

The possession type TCP steps on to the platform, cracking her neck as it starts to rise.

 

[image description: corrosion, the rusty colored possession type TCP, stands on a trial platform. she looks on edge but stiffly posed, a knife holster on her leg.]

As the makeshift elevator goes up, a pool of dread forms in her belly.

Stupid, stupid! Get a fucking grip!

You really gonna let those morons get to you?

Do your job!

The arena comes into view, bit by bit, Corro reaching for the knife in her leg holster. She can still remember every fluid stain she'd spilled, even with the trial chamber cleared. It's a simple square room, no different than the average...but she knows what it is.

She's the overseers' gladiator, and she had to give them a show.

On the other side of the arena, another platform rises- her opponent.

...what the fuck?

 

[image description: an over the shoulder shot of corrosion seeing her new opponent. he's across the room, a golden TCP with a lighter colored hat- and wearing a dark blue trenchcoat. his features are obscured.]

 

He's scrawny. A little TCP in a stupid hat, wearing a long coat and shoving his hands in his pockets. If it wasn't for the...one, two, three, four- eight no-regret kill marks on his face, she would have thought this was a fucking joke. Garbage day or something, and he was the trash.

He doesn't move as both of their platforms reach ground level of the arena, cocking his head in a sly expression.

 

[image description: the golden TCP stands with his hands in his pockets, looking casual. 4 no-regret kill marks are distinctly visible on his face, with more partially obscured.]

????: My new opponent.
????: What's your name?

 

Who does h-

CORROSION: My name?
CORROSION: Why the fuck do you need to know that?!
????: Only right for me to get the names of the people I kill.
????: Courtesy, right?
????: My name's Garland.
????: What's yours?

 

Corro wants to hit him so hard that the smugness in his voice gets knocked right out of him.

Prick...

CORROSION: You're actin' real noble for someone with marks like that.
CORROSION: Think you're some kind of saint? Like this is justice, or something?
GARLAND: You're playing tough for someone with two less kill marks-

 

He makes a soft chuckle.

GARLAND: And two of them regretted.

 

The possession type takes a step forward, absolutely seething.

CORROSION: Are you here to talk, or FIGHT?!
CORROSION: Get over here and stop playing games!
GARLAND: But it's all games, right?
GARLAND: And they've gotten worse.
GARLAND: You're in the same boat as me, I'm guessing.
GARLAND: Haven't you noticed?
GARLAND: Or are you just terrible at paying attention.
 

Shut up shut up shut up shut UP

CORROSION: Even-
CORROSION: Even if that were true-
CORROSION: And it's NOT
CORROSION: What's the point in saying it? In running your goddamn mouth?!
GARLAND: Because they're not satisfied with maiming anymore.
GARLAND: Two of these kills?

 

He tilts his head in the other direction, making sure she can see the marks clearer.

GARLAND: In the past five trials alone.

 

Corro starts counting in her mind, despite every last instinct in her telling her not to let him get to her.


...
....
He's right.
No! No, that's-
That's bullshit!


He makes another soft chuckle, enjoying watching her sweat.

GARLAND: Do you like being a puppet for them?
GARLAND: Never questioning anything-
CORROSION: That's enough out of you.
GARLAND: Why? I think you'd make a great one.
GARLAND: They love to watch an abstract type dance.
CORROSION: That's ENOUGH!

 

With an exasperated scream, she charges, knife held and ready to go for the first thing she can reach.

]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-891.html Tue, 30 Jan 2024 21:33:05 +0000 skinstealer]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-891.html
[image description: a cover image for the project, titled:
Universal Constants
Episode 1: First Blood

on the cover image itself is a desk covered in different objects, split between two colors. red objects include: a strange, railway track-like weapon, a split heart pin, and a photo of abstract shapes that while hard to parse, resemble an eye. green objects include: a surgeon's scalpel, a folder with a strange heart insignia, and a photo of 3 anthro cat children, doing their best to support each other in a nervous embrace. a lime green image exists as well, underneath the other objects- a photo of a canine shadow, featuring frightening teeth and a pearl necklace.]



content warnings for this project can be found here, for both overarching themes and individual episodes.





[image description: a reddish brown canine furry takes up most of the frame, sitting down in a waiting room chair. his black hair is covering most of his face in a curly mess. large, round glasses obscure his eyes, and his expression is calm and stoic- a singular canine fang sticking out of his mouth. he's wearing a red turtleneck sweater, maroon high waisted pants, and a reddish purple cape with a holographic, starry print. there's pins on his shoulder, where the cape hangs off of his body- a no-entry sign and a heart split down the middle.

the room itself is simple in what we can see in-frame, a door off to the side with a distinctly alien handle compared to what we have on earth- with a smaller upper grip laid horizontally, and a much larger lower grip angled vertically. there is alien writing on the door's sign, indicating who works there, and arrow-like patterning on the door's surface.

color-wise, the room is a rather sterile white and gray, made to feel warmer by the piece's overall cozy lighting. shiny particles hover around the dog's cape, leading to a dream-like feel.]

Charon rubs his fingers against the edges of the folder in his lap, his documents kept nice and neat inside. He'd be meeting up with the head honcho of the Menagerie, a facility staple on this continent for its medical importance. A renovation job for someone with a very specific skillset, that's what the guild explained when he took a look at the contract.

The waiting room is clean, almost too clean to be inviting- the entire facility felt clinical and cold, and this area is no different. The only audible noise is the hum of the lights up above him and the unintelligible discussion in the office ahead. No one else is left, all other people having gone through the office before him, and a sense of unease begins to settle in.

He tries to see if he can get any sort of sound or look at whatever was going on inside, just to know what he's exactly about to deal with. This lab had many stories behind it, stories that spread and snowballed into the thing of myth and fables. He couldn't say his family would approve of him taking a job with the reputation the previous owner had, but he was assured things were... mostly different.

As if to confirm his worries, the voices inside escalate in volume, someone bursting out of the door and scrambling to get out of there as quickly as possible. The dog tries not to mind it too much, probably just an anomaly. At the very least it means that he’s about to be called up.

He gets to his feet and gets a quick stretch in...he'd been in that lobby too long. His whole body starts clanking and clattering as he does so, a mix of his metal limbs and his fluffy tail, adorned with porcelain plates, making a racket. 
????: Next.
 

Charon shuffles over into the next room as quickly as possible.

 

The office is tidy, everything clearly having its own place- though a little sparse, with no decorations or knick knacks to be found anywhere. The karacel at the desk sits with straight posture, her hands clasped in front of her and a stoic expression on her face. Her brown fur contrasts with her green accents on her nose, ear tufts, and eyelids- the latter currently half lidded over what looked to be black prosthetic eyes. It’s an exasperated expression on her face, barely turning to acknowledge him in her exhaustion.

 
????: Sit.
 

The dog creeps on over to his chair.

 
CHARON: I take it you're in charge?
????: You'd be correct.

 

She doesn't react much, keeping her posture steady.

 
 
????: Maes Artag, I run this facility and act as its head surgeon.
CHARON: Mm. I'm here for the job regarding renovation of the lab, you certainly have some... interesting requisites for it.
MAES: You're the contractor that Synna wants me to hire, then.
CHARON: Mmhmm. I'm not entirely sure why you need a knight for this but I take it you have bigger issues than roaches in the basement.
MAES: You could say that.
MAES: Synna says that your resume holds up well, but I wanted to see it myself.
MAES: You see, Mr...?
CHARON: Judgment.

 

He slides over a file.

 

CHARON: All my documents are in there... I heard that touch script copies were ideal in this office, so I brought those too.
MAES: ...Thank you.
 
 

She seems a little impressed at the touch script inclusion, opening up the folder with care.

 
MAES: You see, Mr. Judgment, I have immensely high standards for the kind of work we do here at this lab, and your work will be especially difficult.
CHARON: I've been through the worst work of my career, it's all uphill from here.
MAES: I highly doubt that.
 

She grimaces, just enough to be noticed.

 
MAES: What kind of job do you think this is, from the requirements and briefing alone?
CHARON: I'd say you want me to dip my toes into hell and clean up some old regrets.
MAES: Regrets?
CHARON: Failed projects that need more than a mop and a dustpan to get rid of.
MAES: And what gives you that impression?
CHARON: The application mentioned the job requires an immunity or heavy resistance to horror and experience in security.
MAES: Facilities are built on horror vents all the time, any kind of building can be- especially in this area.
MAES: What makes you think there's regrets involved?
CHARON: Because this lab has a bit of a reputation, one that uttering it may be distressful to any staff within ear shot.
MAES: Mm.

 

Her grimace worsens.

MAES: Go on.
CHARON: This lab built too far into a horror vent, farther than most are willing to go.
CHARON: Now you need someone who can deal with them when they eventually leak and give trouble to your construction crew... and off the record, the stories around this place make it plausible those vents were used for more than basements.
MAES: Every major facility has stories around it. Do you believe these?
CHARON: I'm prepared for the worst should any of it be true, but I rather they be exaggerations.
MAES: The reasons why the underground needs renovations do not concern you. Getting the job done and done effectively does.
CHARON: I do need to be aware of all safety hazards that may come out of this. I don't want to have anyone injured on my watch, if I'm frank.
MAES: The only people who will join you in the cleanup are people who are similarly equipped.
MAES: I don't risk lives if I can help it, Judgment.
CHARON: That's good to hear, I'd refuse if I heard anything otherwise.
 
 

She runs her hand over the first paper, taking a proper look. The resume itself features a mention of involvement in a relatively well known investigation involving sensitives, users of scraps, those who can supposedly connect to spirits and remnants….

Maes’ frown twitches.

 
CHARON: Is... something wrong?
MAES: You believe in magic.
CHARON: Pardon?
MAES: It says here you've worked with...spirits.
CHARON: I've worked with sensitives in the past, yes.
MAES: And you believe in it.
CHARON: Is there an issue here?
MAES: We'll see.

She continues reading, her brows just the slightest bit raised now.

 
CHARON: It should not impact my ability to work if you are worried.
MAES: It better not.
CHARON: It won't.
MAES: I suppose I'll have to take your word for it.
 
 

It comes out cold- possibly more than she intended, by the look on her face- and she hurriedly gets back to her reading.

 
MAES: Are there any other problems I should worry about, Judgment?
CHARON: Define problems.
MAES: I simply don't want to hear that you're looking for ghosts in our underground levels.
MAES: It concerns me.

 

She flashes the slightest bit of teeth as she says it. Charon just barely catches a glimpse, his heart rate speeding up and a little intake of breath at the sight of it.

Shit.

 
CHARON: I don't plan to.

Maes pauses, ear twitching almost too subtly to be seen.

 
 

Shit, she noticed.


She reads more of his file, but there’s something about the way she speaks that makes Charon feel…scrutinized.

 
MAES: You seem tense, Judgment.
MAES: Do I have to worry about you cracking under pressure?
 

She makes sure to almost snarl the last word.

CHARON: Please, an interview doesn't scare me.

 

Charon focuses- he’s grateful to be blessed with the ability to gauge subtle elements and emotions, an aspect of his family line. He tries to see what he can find in Maes, nervous about what he might find.



[image description: a dutch angle shot over charon's caped shoulder, showing maes at her desk. her face looks tired, but  has a difficult to discern intent. she's a brown-furred cat furry with large, horizontally positioned ears tipped in green tufts, long, fluffy black hair, and an hourglass build. her outfit is a black tight dress with green accents, featuring sleeves with cutouts at the shoulder and a much looser green scarf. her prosthetic eyes are portrayed as black filled in shapes, her eyelids green and half lidded over them. maes' posture is upright, and it's clear she means business. even with all of the gravity of her pose and expression, the atmosphere of the image and textures on maes are warm, as if charon's emotions are tinting the situation.  on the desk, charon's folder sits.]


She’s curious, testing him. Something about him’s off, and she can't quite place it yet...and more than anything, she wants to see more. She flashes her teeth quickly as she exhales, too fast to be read as intentional...to anyone but him.

Charon’s tail flicks in a half-wag, anything but a fear response- the porcelain plates on it clattering just loud enough to be audible.

The karacel in front of him’s ear twitches again, but she continues.

 
MAES: Your file...says you boast exceptional pain tolerance.
CHARON: It's the peak threshold for any non-synthetic being.
MAES: And how has this been tested? I assume to know such a thing, you'd have to have survived some incidents.
CHARON: I've endured electrocution and varying slash and bite based injuries without passing out, screaming, or going into shock. It's in my medical records.

She drums her claws on the desk, her expression purposefully flat- as if she’s trying to hold a straight face and not let anything slip.

A soft noise of her own escapes, barely perceptible.

Charon’s ears perk up.

MAES: That...should come in handy.

 

She tries to veer things back on course.

MAES: Such durability will hopefully be unneeded, but it's definitely interes- a perk.
CHARON: A perk?
MAES: It's better that you're more well prepared, that's all.

 

That was clearly not all.

CHARON: Prepared for what exactly if I may ask?
MAES: It's an old lab, many parts of it untouched for over a decade- like I mentioned prior, I refuse to send anyone down there that isn't ready for the potential risks.

 

She keeps her voice even.

CHARON: I'm more than prepared for something like this, I'm not too worried.
MAES: I suppose that makes up for the occult interest, then...
 

She flips to the next page, studying its contents.

MAES: It also says you have an expertise in old technology. Am I to expect difficulty with operating modern equipment?

Even with her attempts to remain straight-faced, her teeth seem to show more and more when she talks, or at the very least, Charon’s attention keeps getting drawn more and more to them.

CHARON: I should be absolutely fine with modern equipment, and anything I'm not familiar with can be explained with ease.

 

The dog tries his best not to make a sound but he’s fidgeting more than a little, and audibly, in no small part due to the damn porcelain.

MAES: Is something the matter, Judgment?
CHARON: Nothing, why do you ask?
MAES: Nothing.
MAES: Perhaps I'm just reading you wrong.
 

She closes his file, sliding it across the table.

MAES: You're coming off rather...agitated.
CHARON: I've been sitting quite a bit today, so it's a little difficult.  
 

The dog takes his file back.

MAES: You seem like a fit for the job, at least... though we'll have to see how you perform.
MAES: I have big expectations for you, Judgment.
 

She rests her hands in her lap, clearly trying to ignore how tense the room had become.

MAES: And quite the first impression.
CHARON: Oh?
 

The dog leans forward in his chair.

CHARON: I'd assume they're quite good ones based on what you've read for the most part.
MAES: We'll see if you live up to your records.
 

She leans in just as much, without realizing.

 
MAES: Don't get cocky before you've even had a chance to show what you can do.
CHARON: I don't underperform, I have too much reputation at stake.
MAES: So you've told me.

 
She sits up straight once more, trying to get back to her professional posture from earlier.

 
MAES: You should go discuss lodging and your duties with Synna, she's a few departments down.
MAES: I'm sure she can get you up to speed on how we do things here.
CHARON: Mm, room number?

 

The dog gets to his feet and brushes himself off.

 
CHARON: I'm not familiar with this place so I need a point of reference.
MAES: 173. It'll have her name on the door. Oh, and, Judgment?
CHARON: Yes?
MAES: There's a single occupancy restroom just outside the waiting room.
MAES: I would personally recommend you...compose yourself, before meeting with Synna.

 

She keeps her tone clinical, the slightest bit of blush crossing her cheeks.

 
CHARON: Excuse me?

 

He raises a brow in response.

 
MAES: Just a suggestion...I have work to get back to.
CHARON: I think I'll manage fine. Thank you for your time.
MAES: Don't fail me, Judgment.
CHARON: I do not plan to.


 

[image description: a close up shot of charon leaning against the wall, his expression tense and strained. he's sweating and gritting his teeth as he attempts to calm down. his glasses are fogged up to the point of just barely showing his red eyes- portrayed in a cute cartoony style in this panel. he's holding his cape around himself, almost protectively.
around him float little red sparkles, as if he's still in a daze.]

 

He makes his way toward the hall quickly. Maes gets up to shut the door behind him just as fast, sliding back against the door.

Charon leans against the waiting room wall, trying to catch his breath. She caught onto him, hopefully that doesn't deduct.

He can't help but worry that this is all a setup to catch him screwing up. That was too tense for his own good.

He’s a little tempted to take her offer to use the restroom. Fuck. Not right now.

He takes the time to breathe deeply and relax himself. Whatever just went on during that interview was more than he was expecting.  Nothing that can't be managed though...hopefully.

]]>
[image description: a cover image for the project, titled:
Universal Constants
Episode 1: First Blood

on the cover image itself is a desk covered in different objects, split between two colors. red objects include: a strange, railway track-like weapon, a split heart pin, and a photo of abstract shapes that while hard to parse, resemble an eye. green objects include: a surgeon's scalpel, a folder with a strange heart insignia, and a photo of 3 anthro cat children, doing their best to support each other in a nervous embrace. a lime green image exists as well, underneath the other objects- a photo of a canine shadow, featuring frightening teeth and a pearl necklace.]



content warnings for this project can be found here, for both overarching themes and individual episodes.





[image description: a reddish brown canine furry takes up most of the frame, sitting down in a waiting room chair. his black hair is covering most of his face in a curly mess. large, round glasses obscure his eyes, and his expression is calm and stoic- a singular canine fang sticking out of his mouth. he's wearing a red turtleneck sweater, maroon high waisted pants, and a reddish purple cape with a holographic, starry print. there's pins on his shoulder, where the cape hangs off of his body- a no-entry sign and a heart split down the middle.

the room itself is simple in what we can see in-frame, a door off to the side with a distinctly alien handle compared to what we have on earth- with a smaller upper grip laid horizontally, and a much larger lower grip angled vertically. there is alien writing on the door's sign, indicating who works there, and arrow-like patterning on the door's surface.

color-wise, the room is a rather sterile white and gray, made to feel warmer by the piece's overall cozy lighting. shiny particles hover around the dog's cape, leading to a dream-like feel.]

Charon rubs his fingers against the edges of the folder in his lap, his documents kept nice and neat inside. He'd be meeting up with the head honcho of the Menagerie, a facility staple on this continent for its medical importance. A renovation job for someone with a very specific skillset, that's what the guild explained when he took a look at the contract.

The waiting room is clean, almost too clean to be inviting- the entire facility felt clinical and cold, and this area is no different. The only audible noise is the hum of the lights up above him and the unintelligible discussion in the office ahead. No one else is left, all other people having gone through the office before him, and a sense of unease begins to settle in.

He tries to see if he can get any sort of sound or look at whatever was going on inside, just to know what he's exactly about to deal with. This lab had many stories behind it, stories that spread and snowballed into the thing of myth and fables. He couldn't say his family would approve of him taking a job with the reputation the previous owner had, but he was assured things were... mostly different.

As if to confirm his worries, the voices inside escalate in volume, someone bursting out of the door and scrambling to get out of there as quickly as possible. The dog tries not to mind it too much, probably just an anomaly. At the very least it means that he’s about to be called up.

He gets to his feet and gets a quick stretch in...he'd been in that lobby too long. His whole body starts clanking and clattering as he does so, a mix of his metal limbs and his fluffy tail, adorned with porcelain plates, making a racket. 
????: Next.
 

Charon shuffles over into the next room as quickly as possible.

 

The office is tidy, everything clearly having its own place- though a little sparse, with no decorations or knick knacks to be found anywhere. The karacel at the desk sits with straight posture, her hands clasped in front of her and a stoic expression on her face. Her brown fur contrasts with her green accents on her nose, ear tufts, and eyelids- the latter currently half lidded over what looked to be black prosthetic eyes. It’s an exasperated expression on her face, barely turning to acknowledge him in her exhaustion.

 
????: Sit.
 

The dog creeps on over to his chair.

 
CHARON: I take it you're in charge?
????: You'd be correct.

 

She doesn't react much, keeping her posture steady.

 
 
????: Maes Artag, I run this facility and act as its head surgeon.
CHARON: Mm. I'm here for the job regarding renovation of the lab, you certainly have some... interesting requisites for it.
MAES: You're the contractor that Synna wants me to hire, then.
CHARON: Mmhmm. I'm not entirely sure why you need a knight for this but I take it you have bigger issues than roaches in the basement.
MAES: You could say that.
MAES: Synna says that your resume holds up well, but I wanted to see it myself.
MAES: You see, Mr...?
CHARON: Judgment.

 

He slides over a file.

 

CHARON: All my documents are in there... I heard that touch script copies were ideal in this office, so I brought those too.
MAES: ...Thank you.
 
 

She seems a little impressed at the touch script inclusion, opening up the folder with care.

 
MAES: You see, Mr. Judgment, I have immensely high standards for the kind of work we do here at this lab, and your work will be especially difficult.
CHARON: I've been through the worst work of my career, it's all uphill from here.
MAES: I highly doubt that.
 

She grimaces, just enough to be noticed.

 
MAES: What kind of job do you think this is, from the requirements and briefing alone?
CHARON: I'd say you want me to dip my toes into hell and clean up some old regrets.
MAES: Regrets?
CHARON: Failed projects that need more than a mop and a dustpan to get rid of.
MAES: And what gives you that impression?
CHARON: The application mentioned the job requires an immunity or heavy resistance to horror and experience in security.
MAES: Facilities are built on horror vents all the time, any kind of building can be- especially in this area.
MAES: What makes you think there's regrets involved?
CHARON: Because this lab has a bit of a reputation, one that uttering it may be distressful to any staff within ear shot.
MAES: Mm.

 

Her grimace worsens.

MAES: Go on.
CHARON: This lab built too far into a horror vent, farther than most are willing to go.
CHARON: Now you need someone who can deal with them when they eventually leak and give trouble to your construction crew... and off the record, the stories around this place make it plausible those vents were used for more than basements.
MAES: Every major facility has stories around it. Do you believe these?
CHARON: I'm prepared for the worst should any of it be true, but I rather they be exaggerations.
MAES: The reasons why the underground needs renovations do not concern you. Getting the job done and done effectively does.
CHARON: I do need to be aware of all safety hazards that may come out of this. I don't want to have anyone injured on my watch, if I'm frank.
MAES: The only people who will join you in the cleanup are people who are similarly equipped.
MAES: I don't risk lives if I can help it, Judgment.
CHARON: That's good to hear, I'd refuse if I heard anything otherwise.
 
 

She runs her hand over the first paper, taking a proper look. The resume itself features a mention of involvement in a relatively well known investigation involving sensitives, users of scraps, those who can supposedly connect to spirits and remnants….

Maes’ frown twitches.

 
CHARON: Is... something wrong?
MAES: You believe in magic.
CHARON: Pardon?
MAES: It says here you've worked with...spirits.
CHARON: I've worked with sensitives in the past, yes.
MAES: And you believe in it.
CHARON: Is there an issue here?
MAES: We'll see.

She continues reading, her brows just the slightest bit raised now.

 
CHARON: It should not impact my ability to work if you are worried.
MAES: It better not.
CHARON: It won't.
MAES: I suppose I'll have to take your word for it.
 
 

It comes out cold- possibly more than she intended, by the look on her face- and she hurriedly gets back to her reading.

 
MAES: Are there any other problems I should worry about, Judgment?
CHARON: Define problems.
MAES: I simply don't want to hear that you're looking for ghosts in our underground levels.
MAES: It concerns me.

 

She flashes the slightest bit of teeth as she says it. Charon just barely catches a glimpse, his heart rate speeding up and a little intake of breath at the sight of it.

Shit.

 
CHARON: I don't plan to.

Maes pauses, ear twitching almost too subtly to be seen.

 
 

Shit, she noticed.


She reads more of his file, but there’s something about the way she speaks that makes Charon feel…scrutinized.

 
MAES: You seem tense, Judgment.
MAES: Do I have to worry about you cracking under pressure?
 

She makes sure to almost snarl the last word.

CHARON: Please, an interview doesn't scare me.

 

Charon focuses- he’s grateful to be blessed with the ability to gauge subtle elements and emotions, an aspect of his family line. He tries to see what he can find in Maes, nervous about what he might find.



[image description: a dutch angle shot over charon's caped shoulder, showing maes at her desk. her face looks tired, but  has a difficult to discern intent. she's a brown-furred cat furry with large, horizontally positioned ears tipped in green tufts, long, fluffy black hair, and an hourglass build. her outfit is a black tight dress with green accents, featuring sleeves with cutouts at the shoulder and a much looser green scarf. her prosthetic eyes are portrayed as black filled in shapes, her eyelids green and half lidded over them. maes' posture is upright, and it's clear she means business. even with all of the gravity of her pose and expression, the atmosphere of the image and textures on maes are warm, as if charon's emotions are tinting the situation.  on the desk, charon's folder sits.]


She’s curious, testing him. Something about him’s off, and she can't quite place it yet...and more than anything, she wants to see more. She flashes her teeth quickly as she exhales, too fast to be read as intentional...to anyone but him.

Charon’s tail flicks in a half-wag, anything but a fear response- the porcelain plates on it clattering just loud enough to be audible.

The karacel in front of him’s ear twitches again, but she continues.

 
MAES: Your file...says you boast exceptional pain tolerance.
CHARON: It's the peak threshold for any non-synthetic being.
MAES: And how has this been tested? I assume to know such a thing, you'd have to have survived some incidents.
CHARON: I've endured electrocution and varying slash and bite based injuries without passing out, screaming, or going into shock. It's in my medical records.

She drums her claws on the desk, her expression purposefully flat- as if she’s trying to hold a straight face and not let anything slip.

A soft noise of her own escapes, barely perceptible.

Charon’s ears perk up.

MAES: That...should come in handy.

 

She tries to veer things back on course.

MAES: Such durability will hopefully be unneeded, but it's definitely interes- a perk.
CHARON: A perk?
MAES: It's better that you're more well prepared, that's all.

 

That was clearly not all.

CHARON: Prepared for what exactly if I may ask?
MAES: It's an old lab, many parts of it untouched for over a decade- like I mentioned prior, I refuse to send anyone down there that isn't ready for the potential risks.

 

She keeps her voice even.

CHARON: I'm more than prepared for something like this, I'm not too worried.
MAES: I suppose that makes up for the occult interest, then...
 

She flips to the next page, studying its contents.

MAES: It also says you have an expertise in old technology. Am I to expect difficulty with operating modern equipment?

Even with her attempts to remain straight-faced, her teeth seem to show more and more when she talks, or at the very least, Charon’s attention keeps getting drawn more and more to them.

CHARON: I should be absolutely fine with modern equipment, and anything I'm not familiar with can be explained with ease.

 

The dog tries his best not to make a sound but he’s fidgeting more than a little, and audibly, in no small part due to the damn porcelain.

MAES: Is something the matter, Judgment?
CHARON: Nothing, why do you ask?
MAES: Nothing.
MAES: Perhaps I'm just reading you wrong.
 

She closes his file, sliding it across the table.

MAES: You're coming off rather...agitated.
CHARON: I've been sitting quite a bit today, so it's a little difficult.  
 

The dog takes his file back.

MAES: You seem like a fit for the job, at least... though we'll have to see how you perform.
MAES: I have big expectations for you, Judgment.
 

She rests her hands in her lap, clearly trying to ignore how tense the room had become.

MAES: And quite the first impression.
CHARON: Oh?
 

The dog leans forward in his chair.

CHARON: I'd assume they're quite good ones based on what you've read for the most part.
MAES: We'll see if you live up to your records.
 

She leans in just as much, without realizing.

 
MAES: Don't get cocky before you've even had a chance to show what you can do.
CHARON: I don't underperform, I have too much reputation at stake.
MAES: So you've told me.

 
She sits up straight once more, trying to get back to her professional posture from earlier.

 
MAES: You should go discuss lodging and your duties with Synna, she's a few departments down.
MAES: I'm sure she can get you up to speed on how we do things here.
CHARON: Mm, room number?

 

The dog gets to his feet and brushes himself off.

 
CHARON: I'm not familiar with this place so I need a point of reference.
MAES: 173. It'll have her name on the door. Oh, and, Judgment?
CHARON: Yes?
MAES: There's a single occupancy restroom just outside the waiting room.
MAES: I would personally recommend you...compose yourself, before meeting with Synna.

 

She keeps her tone clinical, the slightest bit of blush crossing her cheeks.

 
CHARON: Excuse me?

 

He raises a brow in response.

 
MAES: Just a suggestion...I have work to get back to.
CHARON: I think I'll manage fine. Thank you for your time.
MAES: Don't fail me, Judgment.
CHARON: I do not plan to.


 

[image description: a close up shot of charon leaning against the wall, his expression tense and strained. he's sweating and gritting his teeth as he attempts to calm down. his glasses are fogged up to the point of just barely showing his red eyes- portrayed in a cute cartoony style in this panel. he's holding his cape around himself, almost protectively.
around him float little red sparkles, as if he's still in a daze.]

 

He makes his way toward the hall quickly. Maes gets up to shut the door behind him just as fast, sliding back against the door.

Charon leans against the waiting room wall, trying to catch his breath. She caught onto him, hopefully that doesn't deduct.

He can't help but worry that this is all a setup to catch him screwing up. That was too tense for his own good.

He’s a little tempted to take her offer to use the restroom. Fuck. Not right now.

He takes the time to breathe deeply and relax himself. Whatever just went on during that interview was more than he was expecting.  Nothing that can't be managed though...hopefully.

]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-873.html Thu, 23 Nov 2023 07:14:52 +0000 SHIVERS]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-873.html 4:45 AM




 

▶ Woof Woof
ARTHUR

The alarm clock on the table cycles through garbled radio broadcasts as it struggles to seek a proper station.

It manages eventually,
music flooding the tiny, dingy apartment from the tinier, dingier speakers.




The lump in bed is compelled to rise, revealing its form:
A light elemental.
Or, a hybrid of one, at least;
scattered circular and polygonal markings denoting the difference, along with other minor body variations.



Howe rubs their head, pressing their fingers against their temple.

Show Content

Thoughts
nnnnnot enough sleep.
i think
4 hrs? maybe 5??

ok


head feels weird today
buzzy, heavy

think its just a headache.
yyaaay another thing to deal with for work

least its not that bad

You let out a yawn, then drag yourself out of bed,
stumbling your way into the bathroom.


What little clothes you slept in are pulled off.
Your shirt is tossed over the mirror, obscuring yourself.

Show Content

Thoughts
feel gross today

not looking at that.

You take a quick shower, feeling half asleep for most of it, but having to rush a little regardless.


Soon enough, you're dried off,
grabbing clothes from your 'closet' just outside the bathroom door - really just a clothing rack pushed haphazardly into the corner.

You slip on your work uniform:
A burgundy polo shirt featuring the country club logo,
tucked into cheap black slacks;
some non-slip restaurant shoes tying together the 'look'.



Your barely-working heater gives a good taste of just how cold the late-autumn air must be.
So, you grab a bulky blue hoodie with a fluffy collar and slide it on over everything.

Show Content

Thoughts
cathy griped at me over the hoodie last time

"you make an impression when you walk in. people expect to see certain standards here."
i get in at like. 5:50am. and the hoodie goes in a locker immediately
i even take the back entrance, nobody sees and they wouldnt care anyway

i know the strict dress code is Everyone And Their Children Wearing Polo Shirts
but its cold, i have to bus and walk here,
let me live long enough to get Into the heated building

With the essentials taken care of,
you pocket your phone, keys, and pills, and hurry out the door.
























It's a relatively short walk to the bus stop,
which you're plenty thankful for given the wind is making the air even colder.

The cold at least keeps you awake while waiting for the bus, though it mercifully arrives a little earlier than usual.




You hop on,
tap your card to pay your fare,
tell the driver 'good morning', and head to the back.

You get a funny look from one of the only other passengers - a karacel with their hair in a bun.

Show Content

Thoughts
should be used to it but i would loooove to not be stared at

im not even a real elemental, im a hybrid
dont even get the 1000-year lifespan or anything, i just look weird and glow in the dark

or are you just staring because im over six feet tall and still have tits

You scrunch yourself into the very back corner of the bus,
propping your shoes up on the back of the empty seat ahead of you.



You stare out the window listlessly, doing your best not to fall asleep.


































A familiar roadside sign catches your eye.

Show Content

Thoughts
a small town/city(?) that feels like it Wants to be a lot bigger than it is
lots of upper-middle class people who come there for the golf courses and the cheap local wine
who all Love to gawk and gossip



...think im just tired today.
ive seen more of the town a few times.
theres a movie theater thats nice. theres the little arboretum ive like. Heard about.
that sounds cool.
and it Does have some transit, unlike everywhere else nearby

maybe i just dislike it because i work in a country club
probably




i still prefer my town

Gold Mills is even Smaller
just a couple hole in the wall places, a donut shop, grocery store, and thats basically it

its dead quiet. i get stared at less, nobody cares
and a Lot cheaper than living in Cultch, for whatever reason

no jobs in Gold Mills, though.
glad theres a bus that heads into Cultch or id be screwed
feels like about 5 people ride it though

think i heard somewhere theyre debating getting rid of it

maybe by the time they do, ill have saved up enough to move out of Eva Sierra in general



hopefully

You scratch your neck, yawning as you muse on whatever happens to occupy your thoughts,

waiting for your stop.




































The bus shakes.


Or-




The ground Under the bus, shakes.



 

 

▶ El Regreso De Patagrande
Mica Levi

 

A noise cuts through your ears.

High-pitched, or low-
You can't tell.














Is it even a Sound?
It feels like


Something pulsing its way through the atmosphere
through the bus
through Your Head











As if the physical space you reside in is being
Occupied.
















It feels like your skull is Fizzling


















Disoriented.

Your eye twitches.


















You want to run.
You try to stand.














You can't move.

Muscles don't respond.





Neurons fail to fire.



Do you Have a body, anymore?































Your eyes.


With great effort, your eyes can move;
sluggish,
dragged like a brick across concrete.














You can't see much of the driver, just their hat and shoulder;
the bus somehow still moving forward, although it's beginning to list to the side.

But, you have a full view of the other passenger;
they're frozen, too.
Wide-eyed, looking at you in shared horror and confusion.








In this moment, you find a macabre thankfulness.

You are not alone with this.


























You don't know how much time is passing.

Everything is hazy.
Your body dead-still.










You ache with a Need to feel Motion,
Activity,
Normalcy again.






























Lights at the front of the bus catch your gaze.


Off-yellow light is coming from where the driver sits.
It flickers in a strange, strobing pattern.








The bus's lights follow suit in a way that makes your head hurt.





It feels like the sky outside is doing the same.














Your brain throbs like a piston.


















The yellow strobe turns to an off-putting cerulean,

then dissipates entirely.








You can't see the driver at all anymore.





















The bus is shifting further and further to the side.

It's slowing gradually, but you can tell:  It's drifting to the edge of the road.









It's darker outside than you swear it was before, but you can't tell in the chaos.
You want to get up and hit the brakes.

You can't move.

























The yellow glow from before appears around the karacel passenger,
enveloping them.


You watch as their eyes somehow grow even wider, glancing frantically around.

The manic, glitchy strobing is back.
It's a little closer this time,
it's More disorienting.




You try to close your eyes.
You can't.























The blue flash comes faster this time.

It's too bright to see much,
but you could swear you spot a horizontal line - like the slit pupil of an eye -
appearing across the karacel in that moment.



Just as they disappear entirely.























Panic truly strikes you now, even through the fog of half-consciousness.










You want to breathe.





Your lungs don't move.






Surely you're choking.



You must be,
your thoughts tell you.






You think you may pass out.


That would be easier.






















The yellow light swallows you.

Along with a sensation far stranger than any you've experienced.









T o u c h


vibrates your skin


thundering through every part of you








you grow warmer, then Hot






as if you're being boiled
a magnifying glass trained on you from the sun itself.














Just as you can't stand it


the final flash signifies the end of it









only






yours is Red.








You swear you see two diagonal lines in your vision, just as it does so.
An X.























 

⏸

You can MOVE again



You stand






The bus SLAMS into something outside.









You're thrown forward.


Your shoulder catches a pole on the way to the floor, where you smack your head.







































You groan,
picking yourself up off the floor.





The bus is almost pitch-black;
lights off, save for the occasional flicker.
You can hear some part of the bus steaming, and it's tilted forward somewhat.







Your head is sore.
Your shoulder is worse.

But nothing broken, as far as you can tell.















Unsteady, you manage to make your way forward,

and pull the level to open the door,
stumbling your way outside.






















 

▶ Intro Cymbal Wind
Dean Hurley

The bus has crashed into some fence poles on the side of the road.
An open field is past them.

You expected to see livestock, maybe, but the field is empty.




















The sky is now unnaturally dark, and it's difficult to tell if it's cloud cover, or something else.



Tendrils of light flash above, on occasion.

At first glance, you assume it's lightning,
but it's too straight, too oriented.

Looking at them makes your head hurt, like you're seeing something you shouldn't.







Square, ember-like sparks flit through the air, seeming to appear and vanish at random.




The air itself feels

dense, heavy,
still; the wind is gone.





You could swear you smell metal, or something similar.
Blood?
Smoke?
You aren't sure.

No matter what, it makes you uneasy.












Something tells you that it isn't safe outside.





Up the road, you spot a gas station, with a motel across the street.
The signs for both flicker and pulse in odd, gradual patterns, like slow-burning flames.

The gas station is devoid of cars, and it's difficult to tell, but it looks to be empty.
The motel, meanwhile, has a couple of cars in the parking lot.

Further up the road, past both of them,
there's a concrete point where everything past it looks to be covered in a thick, still smoke.
The smoke doesn't seem to drift past there, as if it's all contained on the other side of some invisible barrier.

There's a similar wall of smoke far behind you,
only this one is so dense with smog as to look almost solid.]]> 4:45 AM




 

▶ Woof Woof
ARTHUR

The alarm clock on the table cycles through garbled radio broadcasts as it struggles to seek a proper station.

It manages eventually,
music flooding the tiny, dingy apartment from the tinier, dingier speakers.




The lump in bed is compelled to rise, revealing its form:
A light elemental.
Or, a hybrid of one, at least;
scattered circular and polygonal markings denoting the difference, along with other minor body variations.



Howe rubs their head, pressing their fingers against their temple.

Show Content

Thoughts
nnnnnot enough sleep.
i think
4 hrs? maybe 5??

ok


head feels weird today
buzzy, heavy

think its just a headache.
yyaaay another thing to deal with for work

least its not that bad

You let out a yawn, then drag yourself out of bed,
stumbling your way into the bathroom.


What little clothes you slept in are pulled off.
Your shirt is tossed over the mirror, obscuring yourself.

Show Content

Thoughts
feel gross today

not looking at that.

You take a quick shower, feeling half asleep for most of it, but having to rush a little regardless.


Soon enough, you're dried off,
grabbing clothes from your 'closet' just outside the bathroom door - really just a clothing rack pushed haphazardly into the corner.

You slip on your work uniform:
A burgundy polo shirt featuring the country club logo,
tucked into cheap black slacks;
some non-slip restaurant shoes tying together the 'look'.



Your barely-working heater gives a good taste of just how cold the late-autumn air must be.
So, you grab a bulky blue hoodie with a fluffy collar and slide it on over everything.

Show Content

Thoughts
cathy griped at me over the hoodie last time

"you make an impression when you walk in. people expect to see certain standards here."
i get in at like. 5:50am. and the hoodie goes in a locker immediately
i even take the back entrance, nobody sees and they wouldnt care anyway

i know the strict dress code is Everyone And Their Children Wearing Polo Shirts
but its cold, i have to bus and walk here,
let me live long enough to get Into the heated building

With the essentials taken care of,
you pocket your phone, keys, and pills, and hurry out the door.
























It's a relatively short walk to the bus stop,
which you're plenty thankful for given the wind is making the air even colder.

The cold at least keeps you awake while waiting for the bus, though it mercifully arrives a little earlier than usual.




You hop on,
tap your card to pay your fare,
tell the driver 'good morning', and head to the back.

You get a funny look from one of the only other passengers - a karacel with their hair in a bun.

Show Content

Thoughts
should be used to it but i would loooove to not be stared at

im not even a real elemental, im a hybrid
dont even get the 1000-year lifespan or anything, i just look weird and glow in the dark

or are you just staring because im over six feet tall and still have tits

You scrunch yourself into the very back corner of the bus,
propping your shoes up on the back of the empty seat ahead of you.



You stare out the window listlessly, doing your best not to fall asleep.


































A familiar roadside sign catches your eye.

Show Content

Thoughts
a small town/city(?) that feels like it Wants to be a lot bigger than it is
lots of upper-middle class people who come there for the golf courses and the cheap local wine
who all Love to gawk and gossip



...think im just tired today.
ive seen more of the town a few times.
theres a movie theater thats nice. theres the little arboretum ive like. Heard about.
that sounds cool.
and it Does have some transit, unlike everywhere else nearby

maybe i just dislike it because i work in a country club
probably




i still prefer my town

Gold Mills is even Smaller
just a couple hole in the wall places, a donut shop, grocery store, and thats basically it

its dead quiet. i get stared at less, nobody cares
and a Lot cheaper than living in Cultch, for whatever reason

no jobs in Gold Mills, though.
glad theres a bus that heads into Cultch or id be screwed
feels like about 5 people ride it though

think i heard somewhere theyre debating getting rid of it

maybe by the time they do, ill have saved up enough to move out of Eva Sierra in general



hopefully

You scratch your neck, yawning as you muse on whatever happens to occupy your thoughts,

waiting for your stop.




































The bus shakes.


Or-




The ground Under the bus, shakes.



 

 

▶ El Regreso De Patagrande
Mica Levi

 

A noise cuts through your ears.

High-pitched, or low-
You can't tell.














Is it even a Sound?
It feels like


Something pulsing its way through the atmosphere
through the bus
through Your Head











As if the physical space you reside in is being
Occupied.
















It feels like your skull is Fizzling


















Disoriented.

Your eye twitches.


















You want to run.
You try to stand.














You can't move.

Muscles don't respond.





Neurons fail to fire.



Do you Have a body, anymore?































Your eyes.


With great effort, your eyes can move;
sluggish,
dragged like a brick across concrete.














You can't see much of the driver, just their hat and shoulder;
the bus somehow still moving forward, although it's beginning to list to the side.

But, you have a full view of the other passenger;
they're frozen, too.
Wide-eyed, looking at you in shared horror and confusion.








In this moment, you find a macabre thankfulness.

You are not alone with this.


























You don't know how much time is passing.

Everything is hazy.
Your body dead-still.










You ache with a Need to feel Motion,
Activity,
Normalcy again.






























Lights at the front of the bus catch your gaze.


Off-yellow light is coming from where the driver sits.
It flickers in a strange, strobing pattern.








The bus's lights follow suit in a way that makes your head hurt.





It feels like the sky outside is doing the same.














Your brain throbs like a piston.


















The yellow strobe turns to an off-putting cerulean,

then dissipates entirely.








You can't see the driver at all anymore.





















The bus is shifting further and further to the side.

It's slowing gradually, but you can tell:  It's drifting to the edge of the road.









It's darker outside than you swear it was before, but you can't tell in the chaos.
You want to get up and hit the brakes.

You can't move.

























The yellow glow from before appears around the karacel passenger,
enveloping them.


You watch as their eyes somehow grow even wider, glancing frantically around.

The manic, glitchy strobing is back.
It's a little closer this time,
it's More disorienting.




You try to close your eyes.
You can't.























The blue flash comes faster this time.

It's too bright to see much,
but you could swear you spot a horizontal line - like the slit pupil of an eye -
appearing across the karacel in that moment.



Just as they disappear entirely.























Panic truly strikes you now, even through the fog of half-consciousness.










You want to breathe.





Your lungs don't move.






Surely you're choking.



You must be,
your thoughts tell you.






You think you may pass out.


That would be easier.






















The yellow light swallows you.

Along with a sensation far stranger than any you've experienced.









T o u c h


vibrates your skin


thundering through every part of you








you grow warmer, then Hot






as if you're being boiled
a magnifying glass trained on you from the sun itself.














Just as you can't stand it


the final flash signifies the end of it









only






yours is Red.








You swear you see two diagonal lines in your vision, just as it does so.
An X.























 

⏸

You can MOVE again



You stand






The bus SLAMS into something outside.









You're thrown forward.


Your shoulder catches a pole on the way to the floor, where you smack your head.







































You groan,
picking yourself up off the floor.





The bus is almost pitch-black;
lights off, save for the occasional flicker.
You can hear some part of the bus steaming, and it's tilted forward somewhat.







Your head is sore.
Your shoulder is worse.

But nothing broken, as far as you can tell.















Unsteady, you manage to make your way forward,

and pull the level to open the door,
stumbling your way outside.






















 

▶ Intro Cymbal Wind
Dean Hurley

The bus has crashed into some fence poles on the side of the road.
An open field is past them.

You expected to see livestock, maybe, but the field is empty.




















The sky is now unnaturally dark, and it's difficult to tell if it's cloud cover, or something else.



Tendrils of light flash above, on occasion.

At first glance, you assume it's lightning,
but it's too straight, too oriented.

Looking at them makes your head hurt, like you're seeing something you shouldn't.







Square, ember-like sparks flit through the air, seeming to appear and vanish at random.




The air itself feels

dense, heavy,
still; the wind is gone.





You could swear you smell metal, or something similar.
Blood?
Smoke?
You aren't sure.

No matter what, it makes you uneasy.












Something tells you that it isn't safe outside.





Up the road, you spot a gas station, with a motel across the street.
The signs for both flicker and pulse in odd, gradual patterns, like slow-burning flames.

The gas station is devoid of cars, and it's difficult to tell, but it looks to be empty.
The motel, meanwhile, has a couple of cars in the parking lot.

Further up the road, past both of them,
there's a concrete point where everything past it looks to be covered in a thick, still smoke.
The smoke doesn't seem to drift past there, as if it's all contained on the other side of some invisible barrier.

There's a similar wall of smoke far behind you,
only this one is so dense with smog as to look almost solid.]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-846.html Sun, 01 Oct 2023 05:03:34 +0000 skinstealer]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-846.html https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-816.html Sat, 02 Sep 2023 16:49:42 +0000 ThreadLurkingComorant]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-816.html A Thread for Commissioned Writings!
 

TABLE OF CONTENTS:
"Therapy at Styx" by Comorant

 

---

THERAPY AT STYX
Styx goes to therapy.

Related Projects: Masa con Papas, Remedy Hour, Crownkiller's Mulligan
Featured Characters: Styx, Papaya
CW: Self Loathing
Author: Comorant
Commissioned by: Marx

 You check the watch you keep in your pocket, pacing in front of the door until the time arrives
You try to be on the minute if you can, even if you’re not looking forward to the appointment ahead.

You can’t believe you were set up for this in the first place, you don’t need to see a doctor…
But if it’ll satisfy him, you’ll tough it out and do this just the one time and hope he never pesters you about this ever again.

The time arrives, you give the door a creek open and take a look.

A construct is situated at a desk, immediately turning their attention toward you.

Their insect-like features are reminiscent of many folks you’ve met across your journeys, though you can’t quite pin them down as anything specific. It doesn’t matter much and you don’t linger on it.

Papaya: Mr. Judgment! Is your friend with you?

Styx: Judgment?

Were they not told in advance? The situation between the two of you is admittedly a little unusual
but you figured Charon would say as much…

Papaya is looking at you with clear confusion on their face.

It’s not a problem, you’ll correct things if need be.

Styx: Mr. Judgment is.. Elsewhere for now. He’ll return after our session.

You approach the desk, nose up high.

Styx: Styx, Castle Lord and The Defiant Entity of Legend.

Papaya: Quite a mouthful there, but I’ll make sure to document it down for the sake of filing. So…

Styx: Mm?

Papaya: I wasn’t informed that this was a case of plurality, how long have you been around?

Styx: The former part is a bit complicated and the latter? Well… that’s a good question I suppose. Longer than this lab at the very least.

Papaya: …I suppose fiendish types do live long. Never came across as that old...

Styx: Just a brief question, Judgment did explain *something* before asking you about this, yes?

Papaya: He wanted to leave you some privacy so… admittedly not as much as I probably should know. But that’s really up to you to clarify details at your comfort level.

Styx: That’s fair enough…

Papaya: Could I get a brief introduction? Also did you do your paperwork in advance?
You pull a few folded up sheets out of your coat pocket and passed them along.

Styx: I certainly did. So…

Styx: I am what some would call an entity, are you familiar with any witchcraft concepts?

Papaya: Very, I’m assuming that in this case you’re being literal when you say that term then?

Styx: Mmhmm. Very much so. I am an actual entity,  all bells and whistles attached.

Papaya: So Mr. Judgment is your host?

Styx: Was… bit of a long story admittedly. We met over a decade ago as part of an unusual collaboration. Things were quite rocky, we fought a good amount-

Papaya: About?

Styx: I mean quite literally, he killed me in the end. Didn’t really stick as you can witness for yourself however.

Papaya is visibly frantically taking notes before continuing.

Papaya: You came back from the dead?

Styx: I’m a bit of a master class in the art of cheating death, he just made it a little harder than usual…

Papaya: Do these issues still arise…?

Styx: No? We cross paths still plenty but we keep to our own spaces mostly. We’re on relatively good terms these days.

Styx: Admittedly it was plenty to work through for both of us.

Papaya: Mm… if it’s not too personal to ask, how exactly did you both encounter each other?

Styx: He was about… 14 I’d say? Had a bit of a large interest in witchcraft, built a radio behind his Grandmother’s back in an attempt to find some advice in his own personal endeavor.

Styx: Asked for quite a bit. To see his future potential, to know the path he needed to take to fulfill his life’s ambitions, but most of all to find from where he came really.

Styx: At the time he didn’t know much about his parents and his Grandmother was often at work. Poor child had a few speculations but nothing concrete.

Styx: Needless to say, I was more than willing to entertain these at the cost of a few local luxuries. And then… it got interesting.

Papaya: Oh?

Styx: An angel intercepted our connection, and I saw a whole other world that could fulfill those desires. So… I took the opportunity and offered him a chance at everything. Power, a throne, to know from where he truly came..

Styx: We bit off more than we could chew to say the least, ended up formative toward both our futures.

Papaya: You spirited away a child?

Styx: The angel would’ve done so either way, I was just a paid chaperone. 

Papaya: Interesting…

You try to peek over at the construct’s notes to little success as they tilt away. 

Styx: What are you writing down?

Papaya: I’m trying to keep track, this is admittedly quite a bit of history to absorb at once.

Papaya: While I chart out the details, let’s go over a few things.

They unfold the questionnaire you handed to them.

Papaya: Voices in your head?

Styx: Since before being an entity I believe.

Papaya: Fear of people reading your mind?

Styx: Frequent.

Papaya: Have you ever been diagnosed by chance for schizoaffective or psychosis related disorders?

Styx: Why would I?

Papaya: Reading through it seems like a good possibility. Have you never seen a psychiatric doctor before?

Styx: You have to understand that I come from the land of four humors. I wasn’t getting diagnosed in any meaningful way in my lifetime. The knowledge needed to deal with my personal conditions was always in the hands of otherworldly beings or the scholars I confided with during my time studying witchcraft.

Papaya: Admittedly, I can relate to that.

Styx: Pardon?

Papaya: A long story of my own, perhaps saved for a future session.

Papaya: I’d refer you to a psychiatrist to look into the possibility of medication to help you with your symptoms but… I take it that it isn’t common for you to be fronting?

Styx: Not these days, I also have no physical form of my own to speak of when interacting outside my realm so… would not be of particular use to me?

Papaya: Difficult, but I’m sure there’s a work around. We’ll get back to that soon enough..

Papaya: You mentioned you were a squire in your brief history page. Were you striving for knighthood?

Styx: For a time. Tried to specialize as a proper man of arms, but when I went in for my blessing I was handed an awful hand. Type 0, Unusual Craftsman, Hearts… one that I tried to ignore until I ultimately shifted toward witchcraft.

Papaya: The Fool, The Path of Most Suffering, the Yearning for Love.

Styx: You’re familiar with this?

Papaya: Very much so, but you can continue.

Styx: My personal belief is that someone with nothing will take a 1% chance further than anyone else. I don’t like to get my hands dirty when it comes to clients, so I simply offer them a mulligan, so to speak. If I solve their problems directly, I become a loaded die and they learn nothing.. If I simply nudge away a few unplayable hands here and there, they’re always in the game. They need to bluff and make good calls on their own but they’re never left without options.

Papaya: And you keep them needing you longer….

Styx:I have to benefit somehow…though those days are long behind me, I’m effectively retired from the business. 

Styx: Better this way.

Papaya: So what do you do now?

Styx: I come and go as needed, at least until I find a new ambition in life.

Styx: No different from an extended vacation.

Papaya: Anything you’re looking to get out of that?

Styx: What do you mean by that?

Papaya: Certainly a bit of an opportunist from what I can tell, no shade intended. I imagine time to yourself would get quite tiresome if there’s nothing else to that. 

Papaya: So?

Styx: Admittedly I make small scale contracts with people here and there. Occasionally get lucky enough to have an exchange with someone from a past life but..

Styx: Such exchanges are very much a rarity.

Styx: There’s many I’ve scorned and many I wish I could apologize to.

Styx: Allies I valued heavily and those who I’ve had to accept as very much temporary in nature.

Styx: Given how my existence operates, it’s pretty much given.

Styx: Some days I even miss old foes and rivals.

Papaya: Foes of what nature?

Styx: Every kind you could imagine.

Styx: Destructive forces who’ve done more their fair share of tragedy to earn their place in hell.

Styx: True equals who force those around them to become their best selves just to keep up.

Styx:Those defined by obsession and will make their last stand memorable at any cost.

Styx: And occasionally we may enjoy a tinge of homoerotic swordplay as an occupational hazard.

Papaya: Ah, so you’re just outright ancient.

Styx: I really do not like to think of myself as such but…

Styx: By even the standards of some gods that may be the case at this point.

Papaya: Anyone you’d consider an equal these days?

Styx: Nobody living, not a single soul.

Papaya: And why’s that?

Styx: Because at my core I’m a sinner without a resolution in sight.

Styx: Anyone I truly deem lower than my current self is absolutely a creature of either pity or disgust.

Styx: And even then the latter I make a point to avoid.

Styx: There’s no place in a good world for other people like myself.

Papaya:... Can you please clarify what that means exactly?

Styx: Hard to explain but in short.. I do not expect to be forgiven for many of the things I’ve done.

Papaya takes a pause before scribbling down something for quite a long time.

It makes you nervous, you’re absolutely being judged here and that’s more than merited.

Doesn’t mean you like this either way.

You start to try and get a word in before they give you a little gesture with their finger.

Styx: Sorry.

Papaya: For?

Styx: I take it the impression I’m giving here is terrible, not that that’s surprising-

Papaya: I’m going to ask you to stop that for a moment.

Styx: Pardon?

Papaya: The amount of self flagellation has to get tiring for you, right?

Papaya: It’s clear you’ve made a lot of hard choices in your time

Papaya: Plenty of regrets and even more the times you’ve hurt others.

Styx: That’s certainly not helping my case I don’t think.

Papaya: I’m not going to be anything less than direct with you.

Papaya: Right now I’m going to ask you something and I’d like you to be honest, as completely as you can be.

Styx: Alright…

Papaya: Do you want to be a better person?

Papaya: Ultimately, what does that mean to you?

Styx: I….

Styx: Mm…

Styx: Could I have a moment?

Papaya: Take your time.

You take a deep breath to gather yourself, to be as precise with what comes next out of your mouth as humanly possible.

Styx: Ultimately… I don’t enjoy being myself. Even now I present myself in the form of a man who I’d consider my superior and successor.

Styx: Someone who given the same hand I was dealt, I believe would make better choices than myself.

Styx: And many of them facing situations more dire than my own handled them gracefully.

Styx: Without fear, without regrets, absolutely brilliantly.

Styx: There’s entire lives that I miss everyday… but I sometimes wonder if it’s the best that they’re no longer around.

Styx: I don’t think they’d have much love for me if they saw me at my worst.

Papaya gets up from their chair to stretch.

Styx: Is everything alright?

Papaya: Mmhmm! Just processing it myself. Want to think things through.

Styx: You can tell me if this case is a bit much…

Papaya: Not at all, just…

Styx: Be honest with me.

Papaya: We’re about 10 minutes past the clock and I’m trying to find a good endpoint here. Don’t mind going over the clock at all, just a bit tricky to end things in the middle.

Your ears droop.

Styx: I apologize…


Papaya: Don’t. Just let me…

The construct starts writing down on the back of some paper, folds it up, and hands it along.

Styx: What’s this?

Papaya: Homework for you. I want you to take note of each time you say something negative about yourself, and come back to me next week with a few qualities you like about yourself.
Could be anything, just something to cling onto and reinforce.

Styx: Why next week?

Papaya: Because that’s your next appointment. Same time a week from now. I’m sure Dr. Artag would be more than willing to give you the opportunity.

Papaya: You’ve got a lot to say, I want to hear more if that’s alright.

Styx: Is that everything?

Papaya: For now. I really do want you to think about everything before the next session.

Styx: Ah….

Papaya: You seem a bit disappointed.

Styx: Assumed there’d be much more than this, a diagnosis at minimum.

Papaya: For now I want to go over things a little more thoroughly, figure out a plan and what method of treatment would be best for you.

Styx: You have to know what’s wrong with me to some degree.

Papaya: You want an early observation?

Styx…. If you could.

Papaya: You have poor self image, compulsive and addictive behaviors, depressive tendencies, some form of dysmorphia, insecurity and guilt regarding intimacy, and you’re neurodivergent.

Styx: Ah….

Papaya: Not putting anything down yet off just one session but… based on what you’ve said and written, these are all plausible diagnoses.

Styx: Mm..

Styx: And that doesn’t scare you off? It’s quite a list-

Papaya: Stop it. There’s no such thing as being too mentally ill to find help. If you sincerely don’t want to return, I can’t stop you from handing things however you see fit but….

Styx: No I…. would like another session I think.

You pocket the square of paper away for later.

Papaya: This time next week?

Styx: If life allows it. Thank you..

Papaya: Let me know if you do need to reschedule. Please try to do the assignment if you can.

Styx: I’ll make my best effort…

Papaya: Good. My number should be there too if you need to discuss things with me after hours, I stay up later than I should admittedly…

Styx: Is that really okay-

Papaya: Yes. Leave a message if I don’t answer, I’ll get back to you when I can.

You give them a nod and get up from your chair.

Papaya: You’re new to this, things are allowed to be messy right now.

Papaya: Just make sure to think on things, we’ll find you something that works.

Styx: Of course. Thank you doctor.

You turn toward the exit, giving the doctor one last look.

Papaya: See you in a week, have a good one til then.

Styx: Mm…

They give you a tiny wave through the pile of notes you’ve left them with.

You’ve sure gotten yourself involved in something… ]]> A Thread for Commissioned Writings!
 

TABLE OF CONTENTS:
"Therapy at Styx" by Comorant

 

---

THERAPY AT STYX
Styx goes to therapy.

Related Projects: Masa con Papas, Remedy Hour, Crownkiller's Mulligan
Featured Characters: Styx, Papaya
CW: Self Loathing
Author: Comorant
Commissioned by: Marx

 You check the watch you keep in your pocket, pacing in front of the door until the time arrives
You try to be on the minute if you can, even if you’re not looking forward to the appointment ahead.

You can’t believe you were set up for this in the first place, you don’t need to see a doctor…
But if it’ll satisfy him, you’ll tough it out and do this just the one time and hope he never pesters you about this ever again.

The time arrives, you give the door a creek open and take a look.

A construct is situated at a desk, immediately turning their attention toward you.

Their insect-like features are reminiscent of many folks you’ve met across your journeys, though you can’t quite pin them down as anything specific. It doesn’t matter much and you don’t linger on it.

Papaya: Mr. Judgment! Is your friend with you?

Styx: Judgment?

Were they not told in advance? The situation between the two of you is admittedly a little unusual
but you figured Charon would say as much…

Papaya is looking at you with clear confusion on their face.

It’s not a problem, you’ll correct things if need be.

Styx: Mr. Judgment is.. Elsewhere for now. He’ll return after our session.

You approach the desk, nose up high.

Styx: Styx, Castle Lord and The Defiant Entity of Legend.

Papaya: Quite a mouthful there, but I’ll make sure to document it down for the sake of filing. So…

Styx: Mm?

Papaya: I wasn’t informed that this was a case of plurality, how long have you been around?

Styx: The former part is a bit complicated and the latter? Well… that’s a good question I suppose. Longer than this lab at the very least.

Papaya: …I suppose fiendish types do live long. Never came across as that old...

Styx: Just a brief question, Judgment did explain *something* before asking you about this, yes?

Papaya: He wanted to leave you some privacy so… admittedly not as much as I probably should know. But that’s really up to you to clarify details at your comfort level.

Styx: That’s fair enough…

Papaya: Could I get a brief introduction? Also did you do your paperwork in advance?
You pull a few folded up sheets out of your coat pocket and passed them along.

Styx: I certainly did. So…

Styx: I am what some would call an entity, are you familiar with any witchcraft concepts?

Papaya: Very, I’m assuming that in this case you’re being literal when you say that term then?

Styx: Mmhmm. Very much so. I am an actual entity,  all bells and whistles attached.

Papaya: So Mr. Judgment is your host?

Styx: Was… bit of a long story admittedly. We met over a decade ago as part of an unusual collaboration. Things were quite rocky, we fought a good amount-

Papaya: About?

Styx: I mean quite literally, he killed me in the end. Didn’t really stick as you can witness for yourself however.

Papaya is visibly frantically taking notes before continuing.

Papaya: You came back from the dead?

Styx: I’m a bit of a master class in the art of cheating death, he just made it a little harder than usual…

Papaya: Do these issues still arise…?

Styx: No? We cross paths still plenty but we keep to our own spaces mostly. We’re on relatively good terms these days.

Styx: Admittedly it was plenty to work through for both of us.

Papaya: Mm… if it’s not too personal to ask, how exactly did you both encounter each other?

Styx: He was about… 14 I’d say? Had a bit of a large interest in witchcraft, built a radio behind his Grandmother’s back in an attempt to find some advice in his own personal endeavor.

Styx: Asked for quite a bit. To see his future potential, to know the path he needed to take to fulfill his life’s ambitions, but most of all to find from where he came really.

Styx: At the time he didn’t know much about his parents and his Grandmother was often at work. Poor child had a few speculations but nothing concrete.

Styx: Needless to say, I was more than willing to entertain these at the cost of a few local luxuries. And then… it got interesting.

Papaya: Oh?

Styx: An angel intercepted our connection, and I saw a whole other world that could fulfill those desires. So… I took the opportunity and offered him a chance at everything. Power, a throne, to know from where he truly came..

Styx: We bit off more than we could chew to say the least, ended up formative toward both our futures.

Papaya: You spirited away a child?

Styx: The angel would’ve done so either way, I was just a paid chaperone. 

Papaya: Interesting…

You try to peek over at the construct’s notes to little success as they tilt away. 

Styx: What are you writing down?

Papaya: I’m trying to keep track, this is admittedly quite a bit of history to absorb at once.

Papaya: While I chart out the details, let’s go over a few things.

They unfold the questionnaire you handed to them.

Papaya: Voices in your head?

Styx: Since before being an entity I believe.

Papaya: Fear of people reading your mind?

Styx: Frequent.

Papaya: Have you ever been diagnosed by chance for schizoaffective or psychosis related disorders?

Styx: Why would I?

Papaya: Reading through it seems like a good possibility. Have you never seen a psychiatric doctor before?

Styx: You have to understand that I come from the land of four humors. I wasn’t getting diagnosed in any meaningful way in my lifetime. The knowledge needed to deal with my personal conditions was always in the hands of otherworldly beings or the scholars I confided with during my time studying witchcraft.

Papaya: Admittedly, I can relate to that.

Styx: Pardon?

Papaya: A long story of my own, perhaps saved for a future session.

Papaya: I’d refer you to a psychiatrist to look into the possibility of medication to help you with your symptoms but… I take it that it isn’t common for you to be fronting?

Styx: Not these days, I also have no physical form of my own to speak of when interacting outside my realm so… would not be of particular use to me?

Papaya: Difficult, but I’m sure there’s a work around. We’ll get back to that soon enough..

Papaya: You mentioned you were a squire in your brief history page. Were you striving for knighthood?

Styx: For a time. Tried to specialize as a proper man of arms, but when I went in for my blessing I was handed an awful hand. Type 0, Unusual Craftsman, Hearts… one that I tried to ignore until I ultimately shifted toward witchcraft.

Papaya: The Fool, The Path of Most Suffering, the Yearning for Love.

Styx: You’re familiar with this?

Papaya: Very much so, but you can continue.

Styx: My personal belief is that someone with nothing will take a 1% chance further than anyone else. I don’t like to get my hands dirty when it comes to clients, so I simply offer them a mulligan, so to speak. If I solve their problems directly, I become a loaded die and they learn nothing.. If I simply nudge away a few unplayable hands here and there, they’re always in the game. They need to bluff and make good calls on their own but they’re never left without options.

Papaya: And you keep them needing you longer….

Styx:I have to benefit somehow…though those days are long behind me, I’m effectively retired from the business. 

Styx: Better this way.

Papaya: So what do you do now?

Styx: I come and go as needed, at least until I find a new ambition in life.

Styx: No different from an extended vacation.

Papaya: Anything you’re looking to get out of that?

Styx: What do you mean by that?

Papaya: Certainly a bit of an opportunist from what I can tell, no shade intended. I imagine time to yourself would get quite tiresome if there’s nothing else to that. 

Papaya: So?

Styx: Admittedly I make small scale contracts with people here and there. Occasionally get lucky enough to have an exchange with someone from a past life but..

Styx: Such exchanges are very much a rarity.

Styx: There’s many I’ve scorned and many I wish I could apologize to.

Styx: Allies I valued heavily and those who I’ve had to accept as very much temporary in nature.

Styx: Given how my existence operates, it’s pretty much given.

Styx: Some days I even miss old foes and rivals.

Papaya: Foes of what nature?

Styx: Every kind you could imagine.

Styx: Destructive forces who’ve done more their fair share of tragedy to earn their place in hell.

Styx: True equals who force those around them to become their best selves just to keep up.

Styx:Those defined by obsession and will make their last stand memorable at any cost.

Styx: And occasionally we may enjoy a tinge of homoerotic swordplay as an occupational hazard.

Papaya: Ah, so you’re just outright ancient.

Styx: I really do not like to think of myself as such but…

Styx: By even the standards of some gods that may be the case at this point.

Papaya: Anyone you’d consider an equal these days?

Styx: Nobody living, not a single soul.

Papaya: And why’s that?

Styx: Because at my core I’m a sinner without a resolution in sight.

Styx: Anyone I truly deem lower than my current self is absolutely a creature of either pity or disgust.

Styx: And even then the latter I make a point to avoid.

Styx: There’s no place in a good world for other people like myself.

Papaya:... Can you please clarify what that means exactly?

Styx: Hard to explain but in short.. I do not expect to be forgiven for many of the things I’ve done.

Papaya takes a pause before scribbling down something for quite a long time.

It makes you nervous, you’re absolutely being judged here and that’s more than merited.

Doesn’t mean you like this either way.

You start to try and get a word in before they give you a little gesture with their finger.

Styx: Sorry.

Papaya: For?

Styx: I take it the impression I’m giving here is terrible, not that that’s surprising-

Papaya: I’m going to ask you to stop that for a moment.

Styx: Pardon?

Papaya: The amount of self flagellation has to get tiring for you, right?

Papaya: It’s clear you’ve made a lot of hard choices in your time

Papaya: Plenty of regrets and even more the times you’ve hurt others.

Styx: That’s certainly not helping my case I don’t think.

Papaya: I’m not going to be anything less than direct with you.

Papaya: Right now I’m going to ask you something and I’d like you to be honest, as completely as you can be.

Styx: Alright…

Papaya: Do you want to be a better person?

Papaya: Ultimately, what does that mean to you?

Styx: I….

Styx: Mm…

Styx: Could I have a moment?

Papaya: Take your time.

You take a deep breath to gather yourself, to be as precise with what comes next out of your mouth as humanly possible.

Styx: Ultimately… I don’t enjoy being myself. Even now I present myself in the form of a man who I’d consider my superior and successor.

Styx: Someone who given the same hand I was dealt, I believe would make better choices than myself.

Styx: And many of them facing situations more dire than my own handled them gracefully.

Styx: Without fear, without regrets, absolutely brilliantly.

Styx: There’s entire lives that I miss everyday… but I sometimes wonder if it’s the best that they’re no longer around.

Styx: I don’t think they’d have much love for me if they saw me at my worst.

Papaya gets up from their chair to stretch.

Styx: Is everything alright?

Papaya: Mmhmm! Just processing it myself. Want to think things through.

Styx: You can tell me if this case is a bit much…

Papaya: Not at all, just…

Styx: Be honest with me.

Papaya: We’re about 10 minutes past the clock and I’m trying to find a good endpoint here. Don’t mind going over the clock at all, just a bit tricky to end things in the middle.

Your ears droop.

Styx: I apologize…


Papaya: Don’t. Just let me…

The construct starts writing down on the back of some paper, folds it up, and hands it along.

Styx: What’s this?

Papaya: Homework for you. I want you to take note of each time you say something negative about yourself, and come back to me next week with a few qualities you like about yourself.
Could be anything, just something to cling onto and reinforce.

Styx: Why next week?

Papaya: Because that’s your next appointment. Same time a week from now. I’m sure Dr. Artag would be more than willing to give you the opportunity.

Papaya: You’ve got a lot to say, I want to hear more if that’s alright.

Styx: Is that everything?

Papaya: For now. I really do want you to think about everything before the next session.

Styx: Ah….

Papaya: You seem a bit disappointed.

Styx: Assumed there’d be much more than this, a diagnosis at minimum.

Papaya: For now I want to go over things a little more thoroughly, figure out a plan and what method of treatment would be best for you.

Styx: You have to know what’s wrong with me to some degree.

Papaya: You want an early observation?

Styx…. If you could.

Papaya: You have poor self image, compulsive and addictive behaviors, depressive tendencies, some form of dysmorphia, insecurity and guilt regarding intimacy, and you’re neurodivergent.

Styx: Ah….

Papaya: Not putting anything down yet off just one session but… based on what you’ve said and written, these are all plausible diagnoses.

Styx: Mm..

Styx: And that doesn’t scare you off? It’s quite a list-

Papaya: Stop it. There’s no such thing as being too mentally ill to find help. If you sincerely don’t want to return, I can’t stop you from handing things however you see fit but….

Styx: No I…. would like another session I think.

You pocket the square of paper away for later.

Papaya: This time next week?

Styx: If life allows it. Thank you..

Papaya: Let me know if you do need to reschedule. Please try to do the assignment if you can.

Styx: I’ll make my best effort…

Papaya: Good. My number should be there too if you need to discuss things with me after hours, I stay up later than I should admittedly…

Styx: Is that really okay-

Papaya: Yes. Leave a message if I don’t answer, I’ll get back to you when I can.

You give them a nod and get up from your chair.

Papaya: You’re new to this, things are allowed to be messy right now.

Papaya: Just make sure to think on things, we’ll find you something that works.

Styx: Of course. Thank you doctor.

You turn toward the exit, giving the doctor one last look.

Papaya: See you in a week, have a good one til then.

Styx: Mm…

They give you a tiny wave through the pile of notes you’ve left them with.

You’ve sure gotten yourself involved in something… ]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-764.html Fri, 28 Jul 2023 18:46:18 +0000 skinstealer]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-764.html
[id: an abstract cover art featuring maes artag, a cat furry with black eyes, along with smoke and geometric patterns.]

REMEDY HOUR
for (relatively spoiler free) content warnings for this project, click here. 

 

 

[id: maes artag is standing in an office with charon judgment, a dog furry, and papaya, a bug-like robot. maes is wearing a green sweater and brown pants, and is holding a white cane. papaya has a blue sweater and prominent pink eyes, and charon is wearing a pink coat with a black sweater underneath. charon's hair is wild and curly, and gelled into a somewhat pompadour-esque shape. his eyes are distinctly unnatural, with "no entry" sign pupils and a similarly shaped halo above his head.]

It’s an atypical day at the Menagerie, Taverne’s largest medical facility, when Maes Artag isn’t on duty. Neither working in the surgical wards or in the secret underground facilities, the karacel finds themself tasked with a new goal- one that fills them with apprehension and…dread.
 
Maes sits in the newly-made waiting room with the handle of their white cane in a death grip, the device collapsed to avoid taking up too much room. They’re preoccupied on what feels like a dozen things at once, ranging from superficial worries such as whether their hair looks alright-

Of course it does, Charon helped me brush out all the tangles today, and I picked out the pulled back style-

-to much, much grander scale distress.

Am I doing the right thing?
My siblings need care, but…
Is…
Is letting someone know about this program so intimately the right move?
We have to go public eventually, but-
This is a good deal different than a press release. This is…

Maes realizes they’re digging their claws into the handle of their cane.

Fuck. Relax.
Therapy is normal. Lots of people go to therapy.
There are tons of therapists here. This one’s just specialized in…particularly complex trauma cases.
If I can pull this off, it’ll help people.
This is worth it. It has to be worth it.

With a shallow attempt at steadying their breath, they turn their attention to the room.

Sparsely furnished from my quick look around, but it makes sense.
We’re just borrowing the room for a few months. Chances are there’s not going to be much…personalized touches.
If this goes well, they’ll get a proper office.
For now, it’s just the three of us…
Myself, Charon, and-

MAES: ...when is this Papaya person going to be ready?
 

Their voice comes out more curt than they'd like, the surgeon almost immediately shrinking back and following up before their partner, sitting next to them, can answer.

MAES: S...sorry.
MAES: On edge.
 

Maes can hear the sound of Charon’s earring jangles as he shakes his head. It’s a familiar sound, one that immediately makes Maes untense, even with how small it is. Their canine partner was easily recognizable both from his voice and the various levels of noise he was accompanied with, his motions easily choreographed from his coat rustling, pocket contents shuffling, and metal limbs clanking.

He’d been working with Maes for months at this point, and Maes is pretty sure they’d give the world for him. Once simply something between an assistant and daily companion, now significantly more than that.

Not only is he Maes’ partner, but one of their two close friends.

 
CHARON: I know how much this matters to you.
MAES: I know, and- it is important.
MAES: Crucial, even.
MAES: I'm going to be holding them to standards I don't for anyone else.
CHARON: I don't blame you for wanting to test this yourself.
CHARON: You've never had a therapist before?
MAES: No. Never.
MAES: ...admittedly I've seen myself as...being able to handle things just fine.
CHARON: Mm... try not to shut them down immediately.
CHARON: These things tend to take some time and work.
MAES: I just don't get how a stranger is supposed to help me understand the situation better.
MAES: I understand it just fine-
 

They catch themself, trying to reel it back in.

MAES: ...but I know that attitude isn't good for me or my siblings to have.
MAES: I'm doing this for them more than myself.
CHARON: If this works out they'll be more than appreciative. Just hope that you get something out of this-
????: Pardon!
 

The two are interrupted by a nervous sounding voice.

????: Was handling a bit of a call, important to the business at hand of course.
 

My documents said they’d be a tall construct. Lots of eyes.
Dresses warmly and with cozy attire.
…good god, they smell like coffee. Must be a big drinker…

Maes stands up a bit too fast, awkwardly holding their hand out.

MAES: Dr. Maes Artag.
MAES: You're Papaya, I presume?
 

The construct reaches out and shakes with a slight firmness.

PAPAYA: Mmhmm.
PAPAYA: Sorry about the wait, needed to make sure the preparations are all set for this.
PAPAYA: Interfacing in a digital space is fairly complicated technology, especially with those of the non-synthetic nature.
PAPAYA: Pleasure to meet you!
MAES: Likewise.
 

They return it just as firmly, pulling away after a moment to gesture to Charon.

MAES: This is my assistant, Judgment-
 

While we're still keeping our relationship on the down low...
If their tech really is as advanced as I'm paying for, they're going to find out.

 
MAES: -and, ah, partner.
 

Charon gets up as well, a pause before he speaks.

Probably giving them the formal knight bow…

CHARON: I'll be here while the Boss handles the examination.
CHARON: Hope it's not an issue.
PAPAYA: Shouldn't be, it’s good to have someone to comfort you after in case a session is a bit intense.
PAPAYA: Did either of you read the documentation on how this process works?
MAES: Yes, though I have...questions.
MAES: This sort of technology is very new to me, and I want to make sure that I understand exactly what I'm getting into.
 

Papaya nods.

PAPAYA: Go ahead, ask away.
MAES: Exactly how...reflective, is the digital environment?
MAES: Your paperwork mentions that it shifts and changes depending on certain factors, but I had a hard time gauging how much is controlled by you and how much is by the other people within it.
PAPAYA: It's designed to be evocative, but it's never one for one and it can't recreate living things.
PAPAYA: I can't go much further than what you're willing to open up to.
PAPAYA: If you're adamantly pushing against it, the world will stay close to the default office setting.
MAES: ...mmmm.
 

I don’t know how I feel about this.
Considering everything, that just sounds like it’d make things worse.
But…

The karacel sighs, resigning themself to following along.

MAES: Easy to understand, I suppose.
MAES: Charon, do you have any questions before we go in?
CHARON: What do you do if a session is too much?
CHARON: Any killswitch?
PAPAYA: De-escalation, slowly shift the environment away from the trigger before disconnect.
PAPAYA: Abrupt disconnect in the middle of that's just asking to wake up to a panic attack so we try to prevent it.
PAPAYA: We also monitor stress levels to avoid hitting extremes as best we can.
MAES: Will there be any side effects from Charon being there?
PAPAYA: He won't bleed over at all if you're worried.
MAES: But...he will be able to see the environment reflect me, correct?
PAPAYA: If you allow it, then yes.
MAES: Mm.
MAES: Is there anything you, Papaya, think I should know going in?
 

Their look is stern.

PAPAYA: You have full control.
PAPAYA: This device isn't designed to and can't probe more than you're willing.
PAPAYA: If you need to stop, we'll stop.
MAES: Good.
MAES: And to be clear- this is a test for you, as well.
MAES: If you can't handle what my mind gives you, you need to voice that so I can act accordingly.
MAES: If I find you're covering up your own inability to take on this level of severity for the sake of a paycheck, I will make consequences for you.
MAES: ...my rehab residents deserve the best, and I am taking a gamble on you.
MAES: Your honesty with your own limits is necessary.
PAPAYA: I've been at this for a real long time and I did a little background research on this place.
PAPAYA: If I didn't think I could do this, wouldn't try to begin with.
PAPAYA: Promise you I'll let you know.
 

Maes’ posture stiffens up visibly.

There’s a lot of things that could mean.
It’s fine. We have a long history of achievements, it’s probably just-

MAES: What kind of background research.
PAPAYA: Previous management.
 

Maes’ fur bristles.

Fuck.

PAPAYA: When I got the details on who would be the primary clients for this, a colleague advised looking into it and well... I really hope the rumors aren't true, can't imagine going through that.
 

Don’t fucking look down on me, on us-

MAES: That information is currently confidential to those outside the facility, you shouldn't have been able t-
 

Their voice, laden with ice, is cut off by a warm, reassuring tone.

CHARON: Boss, I did a lot of the same myself, if you recall.
CHARON: Don't think it comes from ill intent here.
MAES: …
 

...he did.
And he did find details about Anya…
It’s…
I have to be ready for this.
Anyone I hire with qualifications for the rehab program has probably heard rumors…

They take a deep breath, letting it out as a sigh.

MAES: ...you're right.
MAES: I shouldn't expect my attempt at limiting information to be airtight.
 

Papaya speaks up.

PAPAYA: I've been under a lot of similar myself so... I just want the best for the people here.
MAES: Ah.
 
 

That gets them to back down a bit more, nodding.

That’s right.
They’re a trauma specialist with experience in mass tragedies.
Considering they’re from Plaza, that…tracks.
I picked them for a reason.

MAES: I...suppose that does give you a vested interest.
MAES: Very well.
MAES: I can try to work with that.
PAPAYA: Mm... I think for today we're going to start light regardless.
MAES: Finding something light to start with is...more difficult than you'd imagine with me, but...lead the way.
MAES: I have something in mind.
PAPAYA: The room is prepared.
PAPAYA: Ready to go live?
MAES: ...as I'll ever be.
MAES: Is there somewhere for me to sit?
PAPAYA: Up ahead.
MAES: Mm.
 

They wait for Charon to join their side, and then head forward.

]]>
[id: an abstract cover art featuring maes artag, a cat furry with black eyes, along with smoke and geometric patterns.]

REMEDY HOUR
for (relatively spoiler free) content warnings for this project, click here. 

 

 

[id: maes artag is standing in an office with charon judgment, a dog furry, and papaya, a bug-like robot. maes is wearing a green sweater and brown pants, and is holding a white cane. papaya has a blue sweater and prominent pink eyes, and charon is wearing a pink coat with a black sweater underneath. charon's hair is wild and curly, and gelled into a somewhat pompadour-esque shape. his eyes are distinctly unnatural, with "no entry" sign pupils and a similarly shaped halo above his head.]

It’s an atypical day at the Menagerie, Taverne’s largest medical facility, when Maes Artag isn’t on duty. Neither working in the surgical wards or in the secret underground facilities, the karacel finds themself tasked with a new goal- one that fills them with apprehension and…dread.
 
Maes sits in the newly-made waiting room with the handle of their white cane in a death grip, the device collapsed to avoid taking up too much room. They’re preoccupied on what feels like a dozen things at once, ranging from superficial worries such as whether their hair looks alright-

Of course it does, Charon helped me brush out all the tangles today, and I picked out the pulled back style-

-to much, much grander scale distress.

Am I doing the right thing?
My siblings need care, but…
Is…
Is letting someone know about this program so intimately the right move?
We have to go public eventually, but-
This is a good deal different than a press release. This is…

Maes realizes they’re digging their claws into the handle of their cane.

Fuck. Relax.
Therapy is normal. Lots of people go to therapy.
There are tons of therapists here. This one’s just specialized in…particularly complex trauma cases.
If I can pull this off, it’ll help people.
This is worth it. It has to be worth it.

With a shallow attempt at steadying their breath, they turn their attention to the room.

Sparsely furnished from my quick look around, but it makes sense.
We’re just borrowing the room for a few months. Chances are there’s not going to be much…personalized touches.
If this goes well, they’ll get a proper office.
For now, it’s just the three of us…
Myself, Charon, and-

MAES: ...when is this Papaya person going to be ready?
 

Their voice comes out more curt than they'd like, the surgeon almost immediately shrinking back and following up before their partner, sitting next to them, can answer.

MAES: S...sorry.
MAES: On edge.
 

Maes can hear the sound of Charon’s earring jangles as he shakes his head. It’s a familiar sound, one that immediately makes Maes untense, even with how small it is. Their canine partner was easily recognizable both from his voice and the various levels of noise he was accompanied with, his motions easily choreographed from his coat rustling, pocket contents shuffling, and metal limbs clanking.

He’d been working with Maes for months at this point, and Maes is pretty sure they’d give the world for him. Once simply something between an assistant and daily companion, now significantly more than that.

Not only is he Maes’ partner, but one of their two close friends.

 
CHARON: I know how much this matters to you.
MAES: I know, and- it is important.
MAES: Crucial, even.
MAES: I'm going to be holding them to standards I don't for anyone else.
CHARON: I don't blame you for wanting to test this yourself.
CHARON: You've never had a therapist before?
MAES: No. Never.
MAES: ...admittedly I've seen myself as...being able to handle things just fine.
CHARON: Mm... try not to shut them down immediately.
CHARON: These things tend to take some time and work.
MAES: I just don't get how a stranger is supposed to help me understand the situation better.
MAES: I understand it just fine-
 

They catch themself, trying to reel it back in.

MAES: ...but I know that attitude isn't good for me or my siblings to have.
MAES: I'm doing this for them more than myself.
CHARON: If this works out they'll be more than appreciative. Just hope that you get something out of this-
????: Pardon!
 

The two are interrupted by a nervous sounding voice.

????: Was handling a bit of a call, important to the business at hand of course.
 

My documents said they’d be a tall construct. Lots of eyes.
Dresses warmly and with cozy attire.
…good god, they smell like coffee. Must be a big drinker…

Maes stands up a bit too fast, awkwardly holding their hand out.

MAES: Dr. Maes Artag.
MAES: You're Papaya, I presume?
 

The construct reaches out and shakes with a slight firmness.

PAPAYA: Mmhmm.
PAPAYA: Sorry about the wait, needed to make sure the preparations are all set for this.
PAPAYA: Interfacing in a digital space is fairly complicated technology, especially with those of the non-synthetic nature.
PAPAYA: Pleasure to meet you!
MAES: Likewise.
 

They return it just as firmly, pulling away after a moment to gesture to Charon.

MAES: This is my assistant, Judgment-
 

While we're still keeping our relationship on the down low...
If their tech really is as advanced as I'm paying for, they're going to find out.

 
MAES: -and, ah, partner.
 

Charon gets up as well, a pause before he speaks.

Probably giving them the formal knight bow…

CHARON: I'll be here while the Boss handles the examination.
CHARON: Hope it's not an issue.
PAPAYA: Shouldn't be, it’s good to have someone to comfort you after in case a session is a bit intense.
PAPAYA: Did either of you read the documentation on how this process works?
MAES: Yes, though I have...questions.
MAES: This sort of technology is very new to me, and I want to make sure that I understand exactly what I'm getting into.
 

Papaya nods.

PAPAYA: Go ahead, ask away.
MAES: Exactly how...reflective, is the digital environment?
MAES: Your paperwork mentions that it shifts and changes depending on certain factors, but I had a hard time gauging how much is controlled by you and how much is by the other people within it.
PAPAYA: It's designed to be evocative, but it's never one for one and it can't recreate living things.
PAPAYA: I can't go much further than what you're willing to open up to.
PAPAYA: If you're adamantly pushing against it, the world will stay close to the default office setting.
MAES: ...mmmm.
 

I don’t know how I feel about this.
Considering everything, that just sounds like it’d make things worse.
But…

The karacel sighs, resigning themself to following along.

MAES: Easy to understand, I suppose.
MAES: Charon, do you have any questions before we go in?
CHARON: What do you do if a session is too much?
CHARON: Any killswitch?
PAPAYA: De-escalation, slowly shift the environment away from the trigger before disconnect.
PAPAYA: Abrupt disconnect in the middle of that's just asking to wake up to a panic attack so we try to prevent it.
PAPAYA: We also monitor stress levels to avoid hitting extremes as best we can.
MAES: Will there be any side effects from Charon being there?
PAPAYA: He won't bleed over at all if you're worried.
MAES: But...he will be able to see the environment reflect me, correct?
PAPAYA: If you allow it, then yes.
MAES: Mm.
MAES: Is there anything you, Papaya, think I should know going in?
 

Their look is stern.

PAPAYA: You have full control.
PAPAYA: This device isn't designed to and can't probe more than you're willing.
PAPAYA: If you need to stop, we'll stop.
MAES: Good.
MAES: And to be clear- this is a test for you, as well.
MAES: If you can't handle what my mind gives you, you need to voice that so I can act accordingly.
MAES: If I find you're covering up your own inability to take on this level of severity for the sake of a paycheck, I will make consequences for you.
MAES: ...my rehab residents deserve the best, and I am taking a gamble on you.
MAES: Your honesty with your own limits is necessary.
PAPAYA: I've been at this for a real long time and I did a little background research on this place.
PAPAYA: If I didn't think I could do this, wouldn't try to begin with.
PAPAYA: Promise you I'll let you know.
 

Maes’ posture stiffens up visibly.

There’s a lot of things that could mean.
It’s fine. We have a long history of achievements, it’s probably just-

MAES: What kind of background research.
PAPAYA: Previous management.
 

Maes’ fur bristles.

Fuck.

PAPAYA: When I got the details on who would be the primary clients for this, a colleague advised looking into it and well... I really hope the rumors aren't true, can't imagine going through that.
 

Don’t fucking look down on me, on us-

MAES: That information is currently confidential to those outside the facility, you shouldn't have been able t-
 

Their voice, laden with ice, is cut off by a warm, reassuring tone.

CHARON: Boss, I did a lot of the same myself, if you recall.
CHARON: Don't think it comes from ill intent here.
MAES: …
 

...he did.
And he did find details about Anya…
It’s…
I have to be ready for this.
Anyone I hire with qualifications for the rehab program has probably heard rumors…

They take a deep breath, letting it out as a sigh.

MAES: ...you're right.
MAES: I shouldn't expect my attempt at limiting information to be airtight.
 

Papaya speaks up.

PAPAYA: I've been under a lot of similar myself so... I just want the best for the people here.
MAES: Ah.
 
 

That gets them to back down a bit more, nodding.

That’s right.
They’re a trauma specialist with experience in mass tragedies.
Considering they’re from Plaza, that…tracks.
I picked them for a reason.

MAES: I...suppose that does give you a vested interest.
MAES: Very well.
MAES: I can try to work with that.
PAPAYA: Mm... I think for today we're going to start light regardless.
MAES: Finding something light to start with is...more difficult than you'd imagine with me, but...lead the way.
MAES: I have something in mind.
PAPAYA: The room is prepared.
PAPAYA: Ready to go live?
MAES: ...as I'll ever be.
MAES: Is there somewhere for me to sit?
PAPAYA: Up ahead.
MAES: Mm.
 

They wait for Charon to join their side, and then head forward.

]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-757.html Wed, 24 May 2023 03:16:28 +0000 skinstealer]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-757.html https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-598.html Sun, 12 Dec 2021 04:30:49 +0000 skinstealer]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-598.html You awaken to a cloudy sky, lines of plastic buildings looming above you. The ground beneath you feels moist to the touch and hard, your mind letting you know that it's asphalt.

It's cold, and you get the sense that it's winter.

You try to get your bearings.

What kind of toy are you?

What is the first emotion that you can place?

What is a vague memory from a time before now?]]> You awaken to a cloudy sky, lines of plastic buildings looming above you. The ground beneath you feels moist to the touch and hard, your mind letting you know that it's asphalt.

It's cold, and you get the sense that it's winter.

You try to get your bearings.

What kind of toy are you?

What is the first emotion that you can place?

What is a vague memory from a time before now?]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-591.html Sat, 20 Nov 2021 12:24:11 +0000 skinstealer]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-591.html might move these later to a proper story thread or something but for now here comes the scribbles 

these are in the 18+ section for a reason, be sure to read the goddamn content warnings on these because the toy worldbuild is not as welcoming as morbit 
as usual though, none of the heavy content is meant to be exploitative or for shock value. this universe has especially personal topics to multiple team members, so please be especially respectful when discussing this content.]]> might move these later to a proper story thread or something but for now here comes the scribbles 

these are in the 18+ section for a reason, be sure to read the goddamn content warnings on these because the toy worldbuild is not as welcoming as morbit 
as usual though, none of the heavy content is meant to be exploitative or for shock value. this universe has especially personal topics to multiple team members, so please be especially respectful when discussing this content.]]>