While assisting the Archivaas, Shayde discovers Dr. Pimple Popper. -- Anon Guest
[AN: Trigger warning for gore and surgery for that entire channel. Go in prepared for disfiguring nastiness on all counts]
It was fairly common to find Shayde entranced in the viewing lounges of the Archivaas video archives. It was not that common to find her there without food or beverages within spill-safe containers. This viewing had her sitting almost immobile and staring intently at the screen.
Rael knew better than to look at what she was watching, as the headphones were a dead give-away that the goings-on she was watching were overloaded with offensensitivity warnings. Nevertheless, he had one question, "What is all of this?"
"Trainwreck hypnosis," she said. "Skin blemishes turned up tae eleven."
In spite of his better knowledge, he peeked. That... that was a blackhead the size of a small coin. He quickly turned away again the instant the scalpel came into frame. "Train... wreck... hypnosis," he echoed.
"Aye. It's like a horrorshow 'cause of how it happened tae real folks. You know it had tae hurt t' get that bad, ye ken... and there's an entire process fer treatin' 'em too. It's fascinatin'... and it's horrific. Human skin is like... this mad compromise of maladaptation an' narrow misses of everythin' that could go wrong."
Rael couldn't help but use the metaphorical boot, "And yet you persist in believing in a benevolent creator god that made you this way."
"Never said they were benevolent," said Shayde. "Besides, th' creator made the universe. No' our pores. This is like... everything that can go wrong wi' a skin that was supposed tae be covered in fur."
He risked a peek again. The 'everything' was pouring out of someone's skin in a lumpy, roughly cohesive fountain of grey and yellow. An accumulation of sebum, dirt, pus, and epithelials extruded through the incision, thanks to pressure applied by a surgeon.
The question of how people could allow such things to persist to that point remained unanswered and unasked as he, too, succumbed to grousome fascination. It was like looking at the aftermath of a disaster, attempting to patch together the story behind such a ruinous fate.
...trainwreck hypnosis indeed.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / Violin]
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