"slavers are evil and our new CIA executive wants you to shut-up" :bannin: :countdown:
FR tho, somebody has to have it saved.
Why is the countdown showing up as PPB in the preview? Sorry if pig balls just show up, I wanted the timer.
edit: yay, no pig balls edit 2: oh no
Which one? The “Could it be… slop? I circle the trough, curiously sniffing” etc. one?
that rings a bell. I just remember it being written in a literary/faux-literary style with the finishing touch being "my snout descends". It was a comment by a user who was increasingly writing longer comments of the same style in the "new episode" mega threads playing off the idea of us being hogs. This being their coup-de-grace
https://camas.unddit.com/#{%22subreddit%22:%22chapotraphouse%22,%22resultSize%22:100,%22query%22:%22my%20snout%20descends%22}
CW: Mention of animal violence
The damp, stagnant air clinging to the mud of my pen changes direction. I open one eye and see him. Framed by the light of the open barn door and bright world behind it, the Man begins to amble towards the gate. He is holding something. Others notice too.
At once, there is noise and movement — how long has it been since either occurred? Hours? Days? I do not know, nor do I care: the Man is almost here.
We are pressed together now - fighting for a spot at the trough and baying for him to see us. Crying. Squealing. The heat rises and the once moving air stills as it is stolen from me by my neighbors. I cannot breathe.
At once, the slop I crave is poured - for one, for all - finally. My snout descends, and time stands still. I am free.
I do not notice the distant thumps and squelching of mud as the Man drew nearer, for I am sated. I do not notice the cold, wet steel press up against the side of my head, for I am sated. I do not notice the captive bolt as it enters my skull, for I am sated.
Edit: Added spoiler/CW.
yay! thank you so much. I really needed the nostalgia hit.
oh fuck, I forgot the dark ending.
i have no receipts to back this up but i was the one who first posted the phrase my snout descends. me.
it was for one of the call of cthulhu eps
I can verify (anecdotally at least) I distinctly recall it being posted during one of TTRPG episodes. The comment you made has never left my brain lmao. Not a bad thing, it helps me ridicule myself if I ever feel the start of parasocial bullshit.
An alternate
The mood throughout the sty was dismal. A reflection of the biting cold and vexatious drizzle which rained down from the oppressive, overcast skies. The swine lay about, each contemplating the overwhelming mundanity of their existence. The puddles of mud which used to bring them so much joy and comfort had lost their appeal, and the sounder gathered tightly in a pile, separating themselves from the elements with mixed success.
The swine shared a collective hardship, a collective emotional weight which bore down on them like a boulder. The dull feeling was as unanimous as it was unidentified. Is this all life is cracked up to be? The hours passed unassuringly.
After some time, the drizzle slowed. The clouds slowly began to part. At last, the Sun pierced radiantly through their melancholy darkness. The warm rays spread a modest feeling of hope throughout the passel. Moments later, the ears of a young sow perked up. The sound of a tractor approaching from the distance. Her reaction was noticed by the other hogs, who quickly recognized the meaning of this momentous news.
The small silhouette of a man approaching on his tractor crested the hill. The hum of an engine gradually crescendoed, accompanied by the percussive ad-lib of its occasional backfiring. The hogs had all risen to their hooves by now. They lined up along the fence of the sty to humbly greet their master. Ears flopped, tails coiled, and squeals of excitement rippled through the pileup of hogs like an electrical current.
The tractor's crescendo reached it's peak, and then the engine choked to a stall. A man jumped down from the seat and walked around to the small trailer he had in tow. The hogs grew quiet for a moment as their eyes locked onto their succulent bounty. The man lifted up a large burlap sack, plopped it down on the fence, and cut a slit into the fabric. The savory aroma of slop penetrated the snouts of every sow and boar, and the patter of the slop hitting the trough coincided with the onset of a communal orgasmic ecstasy. Snouts descended in a frenzy, and the trough runneth over. The hogs remembered for a moment that amid the drudgery of life, there are still experiences which make it worth pressing on.
