#skeleton will return with more disturbing facts

[common-writers-fly-sometimes]

Fun fact:

AJR' "Karma" hits harder then hitting you toe on the edge of a table.

#skeleton will return with more disturbing facts #AJR #adam met #jack met #ryan met #karma #song lyrics #song #music #meme #humor #but not really

[angelbitezzz]

For the love of god sans give her another shirt (writing under the cut)

Prev - Next - First

Sans was woken from his sleep by a faint tune straining it's way through the floorboards and the soft clatter of something metal. Having a room directly above the kitchen when he had such an enthusiastic brother was the absolute pits sometimes, he thought as he rolled over on his mattress. Blearily, his eyesockets flickered open to regard his room, pupils sliding along until they landed on the blue jacket he'd left on the floor.

"huh. that's not supposed to be there." He thought to himself, eyesockets shutting again for a long moment before he registered the brown-red stain on the fabric. He sat up as the memories snapped back into his skull, the movement disturbing the little white dog sleeping on the end of the mattress. "oh. sorry, pup. at least one of us should get some more sleep."

He scratched at his backside as he stood, pawing sleepily for the hoodie that he'd left on his chair and tugging it on while he walked, opening the door to his room.

Oh.

"Tell her to reap it with a sickle of leather...Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme...And gather it all in a bunch of heather...Then, she'll be a true love of mine..."

That wasn't Papyrus. The unfamiliar song wavered softly through the air as he padded to the landing at the top of the stairs, feet silent. The couch was empty...again. Hell, what was it going to take for that stubborn human to just rest? Did he need to tie her to a bed or something?

huh, actually, scratch that. bad idea.

A little flustered and more than a little frustrated, he descended the stairs. There was a good smell in the air, buttery and rich.

"Are you going to Scarborough Fair?" Angel was trying to be quiet, but seemed to be in something of a good mood. Her voice grew louder as he moved closer. "Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme..."

Sans peeked through the entrance to the kitchen, halting for just a moment to watch. She had one hand in her jean pocket, his borrowed shirt baggy on her torso as she did something at the stove. The blood was still visible, dried now and likely staining the shirt forever. Damn. On the counter next to the stove was a plate piled with what he recognized to be pancakes. They were a darker brown than what he usually saw, but not because they were burnt? He didn't know what she'd done to do that. He stepped forward.

"Remember me to one who lives there..." Angel swayed a little, unaware of the skeleton currently standing just behind her. "She once was a true love of mine."

A heavy hand fell onto her shoulder, making her shriek and nearly jump out of her skin.

"hey there pal. just wanted to remind ya that it's past your bread time."

"SANS!" The human would've been yelling if it weren't for the fact that he'd stolen all of the air from her body. Her hand was clutching her chest. "What the fuck??"

"if you're not vegged out on the couch in the next 2 seconds, i'm gonna go wake up papyrus and let him lecture you."

The human pouted at him and gestured to her current activity, distractedly flipping a pancake.

"Okay, okay...but I'm almost done! Can't I—"

"nope."

"But—"

"no butts in the kitchen. that's unsanitary. what kinda cook are you, anyways?"

Angel deflated a little in disappointment, only for a thought to spark a sudden smile. She turned and grabbed a plate from the counter, then shoved it into his hands. There was a stack of three pancakes, still warm.

"Alright. But here—I already made your portion. And Papyrus's too. I'll just, uh..."

She made a motion like she wasn't sure where to walk, then shut off the stove and flipped the last pancake into the platter on the counter. Sans watched silently as she trudged to the couch and threw herself down on the green fabric like it had personally offended her, but her gaze quickly returned to the kitchen. In her face he could see that she wanted his reaction to her cooking; the eagerness bringing an amused thought of humans being related to dogs and melting his frustration.

Well. Far be it from him to say no to free grub.

He grabbed one—not bothering with a fork—and took a bite. It was warm, thin and crispy with a strong cinnamon taste that wasn't... unpleasant. In fact, it was quite good. He hadn't had anything she'd made before.

"...what's in this?"

"Oh! Well, my mom used to make us cinnamon pancakes when I was a kid. Wanna know the secret?"

"oh yeah? what's that?"

"Cinnamon."

"huh. who'da thunk?"

A pause.

"Is it good enough for me to finish—"

"not a chance."

"Damn it. You can't keep me trapped here, bone boy! I gotta be free!"

"i guess you're right. i mean, it IS a free country, after all. go ahead."

Angel looked at him for a long moment, suspicious of his sudden change in attitude. Slowly, she stood and walked over to the front door, still a little convinced he was going to make her go back to the couch. He watched her go, still chewing his way through his food.

"Okay. I'm leaving. Waaalkin' through the door. Yup."

"see ya."

She opened the door and stepped through, shutting it behind her.

Angel stepped into the house.

"back so soon? i thought you were free."

Confusion bloomed in her face. She looked back at the door and then at Sans.

"Uh. Yeah. Lemme just—"

She tried again.

The door shut behind her as her feet landed on carpet.

"you must really like us if you're not even trying to leave."

She didn't even dignify that with a response. After about 15 tries where she just kept walking back in, she slammed the door shut and properly gave up, huffing her way over to the couch and pulling the blanket over her head.

"well, looks like ya made the right choice after all. hurrah."

His voice sounded right next to the couch, making her peek out from the blankets to find a plate of pancakes being offered by the skeleton. Fresh, judging by the steam rolling slowly off them. Her stomach growled.

"here ya go. shortstack for a shortstack."

"...Thanks."

His left eyelid slid shut in a wink.

"bone appetit, kid."

The pun was enough to make her smile, bringing a foreign warm satisfaction to his ribcage. He chalked it up to getting a proper breakfast after all that nonsense yesterday.

Yeah, definitely that.

#art #my art #digital art #doodle #undertale #sans undertale #sans #ts underswap #ts underswap sans #ts underswap au #Crossbones and Starstruck #something something food as a love language #angel is gonna be so annoying about trying to help out #sans abusing his breaking of the laws of spacetime to make her stay in bed is personally so damn funny to me. #also yeah the shirt is too big for her. they needed something for her to wear after her supersuit was ruined #it'll get fixed #this is an excuse for me to draw her wearing sans's clothes 😏

[halcyon-writings]

Hello! Can I please request an angst to fluff either headcanons or fic of Zagreus x reader where he wakes up from a nightmare and discovered that his s/o isn’t next to him in bed so he gets worried thinking something happened to them or they decided to leave him but it turns out they were just getting some water? Thank you so much!

something something, the 'hurt/comfort after a bad dream' trope goes hard

nav.

Zagreus is falling. The stone floor breaks beneath him, even so, his hands fruitlessly scrambling for purchase on the falling stones. The breath leaves his lungs as he lands harshly on his back, his unknown enemy still remaining above him.

A gaze pierces through him; his opponent's helmet keeping their visage hidden. The eye color is familiar, yet he cannot place where and how. They land near him again, far more gracefully than he had, their weapon raised in one hand, the other reacting above for their helmet. Mismatched eyes widen when the hidden figure's identity is visible to him.

Before he can even speak, you raise your weapon, and your tone is sad, despite the passiveness of your expression, "Farewell, Zagreus."

He awakens with a sharp gasp of breath.

Hands rush to grasp at wounds that did not exist. At blood that stained nothing. A shout dies in his throat as he sits up rapidly. When he turns to your side, the bed is empty. The spot you take normally is already cold, the sheets barely disturbed. A pit starts to form in his throat.

The blanket had been pushed to the side, so you had clearly been there when he had finally fallen asleep. So just where had you gone?

Thinking of the farewell from his dream, he shudders. No, you couldn't have actually left... couldn't you? Even though a more rational part of himself knew that you would not, the less rational (and less helpful) part of his mind was convinced that he needed to find you.

His sleep-addled mind clears quickly as he practically runs into the small armory attached to the outer part of the House. Snores coming from a familiar lackadaisical skeleton serve little comfort, if anything they serve as more of a push. If Skelly had not woken by your movement, then Zagreus needed to hurry.

The dilemma of choosing only one weapon stumps him, and the Prince debates just taking all of them at once when he hears someone else entering the room. In his surprise, the weapons fall clumsily out of his arms. For such legendary weapons, they barely scratch the floor tiles as they clatter against it.

"What is going on?"

He must still have been sleeping because it was your voice he was hearing...

"Zagreus?" You press on, curiosity in your eyes as you take a once over on the haphazard state of dress you find him in. Armor slightly loose, and it looked as though he had hopped right out of bed, little did you know that was exactly what had happened.

Rather than answering your question completely, he surprises you and himself by making quick strides and stopping just before you. Wordlessly, his arms are thrown around you, and you make a surprised sound despite yourself.

"Is everything alright, Zag?"

He is silent, and he knows that your gaze, an inquisitive one, is on him. "I'm alright- I'm alright."

You quietly pat him on the back, taking his word for it now.

extra:

Zagreus covers his face with both hands, but you can still see the tips of his ears burning a bright red. "Please, I know that was bad."

"Oh Zag," You console, "I know it was a bad dream, but please, you can confide in me." When he told you about this nightmare, you were already worried enough. But the fact that he was ready to run into the many layers of the Underworld, only worried you more. He flops unceremoniously back onto the pillows of your shared bed, an embarrassed flush still on his ears.

"Despite your nightmare being grievously wrong," You continue pointedly, "It was nothing more than that, a nightmare. I'll always be here." But you know that actions do in fact sleep louder than words.

So when he returns from another run, you prove it, being the first to greet him when he arrives welcoming him home.

#hades game x reader #hades x reader #hades game imagine #zagreus x reader #zagreus imagines #hades game imagines #mine

[stormkobra-5]

hi, i absolutely love your writing! can you do “visiting a haunted house” with jake lockley? thank you love <3

nsjsbsjshsj thank you so much 🥺

Prompt: List 1, 2) Visiting a haunted house

Rating/Warnings: M, themes of gore/violence, disturbing images(?), mentions of corpses/skeletons, fake blood, being chased by a dude with a chainsaw, none of its real but still, it’s a haunted house okay (written by someone who’s never been to a haunted house btw), fluff, Jake pretends to be tough but he’s söft

“I don’t really see the point of this, princesa,” Jake grumbled from the driver’s seat, letting his cigarette hang out the window. “It’s childish.”

You scoffed. “Yeah. Big macho Jake going to a haunted house, how horrible.”

“Yes. It is horrible. Thank you for understanding.” Jake went to start the car, but you stopped him with a firm hand on his knee. He slumped back into the seat with defeat. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” You said, as stern as you could muster. “Just because you’ve never been to a haunted house before doesn’t mean you can’t ever go.”

Jake sighed, exasperated. “I’m thirty-seven, Y/N. How many thirty-seven-year-olds do you know that visit haunted houses?”

One of your eyebrows popped up. “Quite a few, actually. It’s also considered a couple’s activity.” After a few beats of silence, you reached across and took his hand in yours. “I won’t make you do it if you don’t want to, Jake. Promise. Just—“

“It’s a Halloween thing,” Jake finished for you, “You’ve done it every year for the last several years. This is your first time with me and it’s supposed to be special.” He shot you a lopsided grin. “See? I pay attention, hermosa.”

“I know you do,” You leaned over to give him a peck on the cheek. “So? We doing this?”

Jake heaved a sigh before unbuckling with a roll of his eyes, trying to stifle his grin at your excited, beaming smile. “Thank you, Jake!” You leaned across the divider again to pepper kisses all over his face. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

That broke his stoic resolve, and he melted into your touch before returning the chaste kisses with some of his own. You hopped out of the car with an eager giggle, hurrying around as Jake got out so that you could link your arms together.

It was a short walk to the ticket booth, and then you were ushered inside. Dark, stuffy, and filled with strings that felt suspiciously like cobwebs, it was unsettling. Screams, seemingly distant, echoed from hidden speakers and gave the impression of being surrounded by killers just around the corner. You clung to Jake nervously, every little sound making you jump. Jake was more wary, careful, but not prone to being petrified by the sound of a skittering mouse like you were.

At least... he hoped it was a mouse...

It wasn’t long before you’d lost your way in the nearly pitch-black hallways lined with plastic skeletons and robotic corpses that would lunge when you least expected it. Not even Jake was sure where you were, now. He took solace in the fact that this was a controlled environment, and even if it weren’t, he was certain he could protect you if he summoned the suit.

It was only a matter of time before you ran into somebody.

Jake was unimpressed. It was a guy in a plastic Jason mask with clothes covered in splattered fake blood, and a chainsaw that clearly had no blade. It was entirely fake— but you squeaked in terror and latched onto him as if your life was seriously at stake, so it was completely worth it.

The guy started the chainsaw and rushed toward you with a truly unhinged yell that was covering some kind of laugh as you took off running, dragging Jake along with you. For the sake of it, he kept up with you, even sped up and pulled you along behind him. Why not play along? You were having fun, squealing and giggling; and the thrill of the chase was getting to him, too. Someone catching the Midnight Vigilante in an overdone costume with a fake chainsaw? Un-fucking-likely.

Jake went faster, trying to remember the way out. “Fuck?! Where the fuck?!”

“This way!” You took him down a hallway neither of you had been before, but at least it was an exit. The chainsaw guy was actually pretty fast, although it was difficult to run while laughing so hard. Was he laughing? Fuck, yours just must be that contagious. Even chainsaw guy was laughing.

The hallway narrowed until it hit a dead end, making you unleash something between a laugh and a scream. Jake shouted in alarm when he saw the chainsaw guy speeding up the hall towards you; Jake tried to put himself around you, but the hallway was too small. The chainsaw touched you and Jake’s legs before the guy stumbled back and shut it off, laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe. You were wheezing, and Jake couldn’t stop staring at you in awe. You were beautiful like this, when you were carefree...

“You guys were great!” Chainsaw guy said, hefting his fake weapon to rest on his shoulder. “C’mon, I’ll show you the way out!”

Back in the car, still breathless and giggling together, Jake managed, “That was fun.”

“See?!” You pulled him in for a hug by his collar. “I told you!”

Jake had made a new pact. He’d never complain about doing anything ever again if he got to see you smile like that. No matter what it was that you wanted him to do, or how he felt about it... your laugh was priceless. “Yeah. You told me. I’ll listen next time.”

He pecked your lips lovingly and held one of your hands against him, relaxing as you traced patterns over the back of his with your fingertips. You sighed contentedly as he backed out of the parking spot. “Princesa?”

“Hm?”

“There any corn mazes around here?”

Your smile gave him butterflies.

Spookable September

#moon knight #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #oscar isaac #oscar isaac hernandez estrada #spookable september #stormkobra 5 answers

[sphinxwalker-when]

I’m not sure how many of my followers play or care about Minecraft, but as a data pack developer and someone who’s job is to create Minecraft content, I want to talk about something very concerning.

Today, Minecraft revealed that in an upcoming update, they will be adding Piglin Heads as a decorative block, and along with all the other heads that already exist in the game, it would be given the ability to, when placed on a Note Block, make the Note Block make the noises of the creature who’s head is on it.

If you’re not familiar with Minecraft, you might not really care, or maybe if you do play, you’re thinking “So what? We already have like, Zombie Heads? One more sounds cool enough.”

Except Piglins are very distinct from something like Zombies. Piglins are intelligent, and participate in an organized civilization.

In Minecraft, Piglins live in the Nether, which was recently updated to be much less like a direct Hell, and more like a complex superwarm underground ecosystem, with actual life outside of souls or undead in the form of Fungi, Striders that walk upon the lava, and Piglins: bipedal pig-people.

Piglins live in the ruins of Bastions, clearly ancestral homes of an aged mining empire. They are known for liking and hoarding Gold. However there’s a lot more to them than that: Piglins wear leather clothes that they craft by hunting Hoglins, which are like giant boars. They farm Nether Wart to brew Fire Resistance Potions. They dance, and have an understanding of value in commerce--they know that if the player gives them gold (even if they’re mad at the player) that they should offer something in return. They have a military hierarchy, with Brutes being classified as guardians that wear more significant armor, and are not forgiving of invaders, only being stationed to protect their treasure.

This is an intelligent civilization. Semi-primitive, sure, but they have society. That they are hostile if the player doesn’t wear gold doesn’t strip them of intelligence. They they are an opponent that can be fought, killed, and stolen from doesn’t diminish their intelligence, however even then there are clear mechanics at play that discourage killing them, such as their sense of community when attacked and the fact that they don’t drop any loot when killed. Adding a feature that allows the player to hunt them, and then to mount their heads as trophies? That is horrific. It degrades them as an intelligent people. If Villager Heads were added to the game, it would be disturbing and gross. Why not for Piglins, who exemplify many of the same traits as Villagers including commerce, farming, clothing, community, military, and construction?

Piglin Heads should not be a thing. At the very least, they should be obtained via loot chests, not from the usual manner as with Zombies or Skeletons, or worse, Wither Skeletons. However more seriously, I think they should explicitly not be real Piglin Heads at all, but rather a Piglin Mask, or Golden Piglin Head--something that they might make as part of their culture.

Minecraft 1.20 doesn’t yet have an Update Name, but it is explicitly focused on representation and inclusion--this comes in the form of adding more default player skins for different skin colors and nationalities, making bamboo ( a very versatile real-world resource) into a crafting ingredient with all the same uses as wood, and adding camels, just because people in the world live in places that have camels. But Minecraft is even more than that--they have shown repeatedly that they care about the impacts their game has on how we view the world, which is why Frogs do not eat fireflies as they were originally planned to.

Please Mojang, give Piglins respect as an intelligent civilization. Fight them, steal from them, but don’t glorify their deaths with stuffed heads as trophies.

#minecraft #piglin #1.20 #snapshot #heads #note blocks #redstone #terralith #mojang

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Just another short story about My Farmer OC Julian based on this headcanon by @reallyghostlypost Thanks for headcanon, I really like that idea 😃

--------------------------------------------------

"Cassandra, behind you!"

Alesia shouted at the top of her voice, but she couldn't shout over the howling storm of the cursed sands and the roar of the monster as it swiftly approached the wounded Cassandra.

She knew... Alesia knew this was not going to end well. Her whole gut was screaming that they were in a hurry, that they were going on this expedition blind... But what could she do?

----------------A few days ago...----------------

The Ministry of Magic was adamant in giving its orders: an urgent reconnaissance of the western part of Crimson Baldlans. The discovery of that ill-fated shard had everyone worried, even the very top of the magic guild. It's understandable, because the cursed monster, stronger than its minions, dubbed by the fearsome name "Apophis", turned out to be created by something. Or worse, by someone...

Alesia had to admit, even her blood had frozen in her veins when Magnus had announced at the general meeting the result of the monster's studied part. Stronger than the usual cursed snakes. Much stronger, blasted thing! Her subordinates could barely cope with destroying the monsters under Castle Village's walls, and there were more and more of them. Camilla's barrier is still protecting the village, but the fact that the monsters are already starting to slowly split the first line of defense is already alarming.

No matter how the First Witch of Castle Village tried to persuade, bribe, or threaten the important bigwigs at the Ministry, the order remained the same: it must be tomorrow. After the meeting, Camilla was in a foul mood; no one dared disturb her as she strode off to her tower with heavy steps, heels clicking on the stone path.

Orders are orders, so a day later the group was assembled: Isaac, Cassandra, and Gertrude's specialty is perfect for this mission. Alesia and Lance would follow the group and cover it with arrows and battle magic. Except that before everyone was ready to step outside the main gate of the village, Gertrude, the most junior in rank among all the adventurers asked a quite logical question.

"Where's the guy who killed Apophis? Isn't he coming with us?"

There was that discussion, except that it was not a public one: Alesia herself had asked Camilla at the beginning why Julian hadn't been invited to the expedition. Camilla quoted the archmage's reply, filling every word with venom:

"The Ministry forbade us to take him on a mission."

This answer surprised both Alesia and Lance, who approached the two women. It didn't make much sense not to take the only person who could not just survive an encounter with Apophis, but also defeat the monster, thus becoming the discoverer of the void shard. Camilla understood all of this, and expressed this thought to the Archmage of the Ministry. The answer from the top head of the entire organization was still negative. Isaac and Cassandra agreed with the Ministry's decision, believing that the "farm boy" would be a burden in their secret mission.

"That 'burden' has done more in that short time than any of us have done in many years..." - Alesia though, but kept her thoughts to herself. She understood the order clear. No means no. Which, however, didn't stop her from feeling vapid about their mission.

-------------------Present time------------------

Everything was going well, everything was fine. They had reached the Crimson Baldlans' blind spot, the one from which no one had ever returned alive. Mummies and skeletons were falling from swords, arrows, and magic. The storm had already taken its toll on them, the sand and tornado in this place made it impossible to see beyond their own noses.

And then, there was a roar.

A growl that made them all freeze in horror for a moment. It took only a few seconds for Cassandra to fall to her knees, howling in sharp pain, staining the sand beneath her with her own blood.

The creature was fast, nimble.

And huge, merciful Yoba...

Alesia's arrows couldn't penetrate the serpent's skin, all she could do was dodge the blow. Lance instantly cast a fireball, driving Apophis away from everyone, at least for now. Gertrude's hands gripping her sword and shaking uncontrollably. Isaac, baring his teeth like a wild wolf, fought off attacks from lesser monsters and tried to see through the storm where Apophis had gone. The monster did not keep itself waiting, guided by the smell of fresh blood, with a jerk intending to deliver the last, mortal blow to Cassandra.

Alesia didn't have time to draw the string, Lance didn't have time to cast the spell, Isaac was too far away, Gertrude didn't move, frozen in place with horror.

Scream, the sniper only had time to shout... Yoba, they didn't have time, they didn't have time...

Apophis roared and quickly sped away from Cassandra, leaving behind a trail of pitch-black blood. A figure stood over her and shouted something into the distance. The wounded girl was already blurry in her eyes, but she felt Lance manage to run up to her and take her in his arms.

"We must leave, quickly!" - Julian, realizing the difficulty of the situation, dispensed with greetings and questions, all of which could wait until they found a safe place. Gertrude, finally coming out of her stupor, quickly took out a scroll and activated it, instantly teleporting all people to the cave with the minecart from Castle Village outpost.

Before finally disappearing from the accursed sands, Julian cold-bloodedly cut the smaller serpent into two halves with one blow of the sword, spattering his head and clothes with that same black blood.

While Lance and Julian gave Cassandra the life elixir, Isaac, Alesia, and Gertrude healed their own wounds. The sniper girl looked with relief at the pink-haired magician and the odd-eyed young man: if Julian had not come for help...

When everyone was convinced that Cassandra's life was not in danger, Julian was the first to break the silence:

"Guys, what were you doing there?..."

#sve #stardew valley expanded #sve lance #sve isaac #sve gertrude #sve alesia #sve camilla #farmer julian #sve cassandra

[underfell-brittle-bright]

Valentines Day, 2024

Warnings: Gun violence, Swearing, Vendetta, dismemberment mention(?)

February 14, 2024:

Sans eyes his brother with uncertainty, not knowing how he's supposed to react to the feather boa. Is he supposed to laugh? Pretend to not notice it? Did his brother lose a deal with the Key Maker, have to dress up like a woman? Maybe not. His brother wouldn't look so smug if he was being forced into something… or maybe he would. The round skeleton watches as Papyrus slips a square into their meat grinder, the machine's teeth crudely mulching it to a pulp. Sans's brows come together. …Should he even ask? Should he put a voice to his question? Risk this tentative bit of household peace for a smidge of curiosity that he could well live without? Roller watches his brother casually mix the shredded polaroid with a bowlful of water and Worcestershire sauce. …No. Sans's curiosity wasn't worth peace-- or Papyrus's ever-changing temper.  He turns away from the war criminal just in time to miss him setting a wick, gunpowder, and glitter glue on the dinner table. Sans moves away from the kitchen and into his brick bedroom. His lumpy mattress dips underneath him as he slides an ornate, blue hardcover book out from underneath his pillow. Roller quickly opens the book to where he left off. His open window letting in the construction site ambience from just outside the house. He has more important things to do than disturb the peace. Like finish "Pride and Prejudice" and then return it before people realize that he isn't reading some kind of academic essay on racism. Which would be feels-y enough in its own right, but the Human/Monster romance Jabot lent him would probably get him stabbed in this part of town if people found out. Shot. Maybe both, in that order. Sans catches a glimpse of his Human eyes in the tiny wall mirror to his left. He decides to focus back on reading, instead. …Or maybe he was just paranoid. Maybe the world is kinder than when he was a baby, he thought, watching Mr. Darcy make his first, somewhat cold, proposal to the sheep Monster, Elizabeth. More willing to tolerate the fact that he was born. Maybe he could even-- A gunshot from the kitchen makes Roller fling himself to the floor, borrowed book sailing out through his window. ----- Papyrus reloads his pistol, grumbling about how he grabbed the Wrong. Damn. Gun. He'd wanted to have a cigar while he assembled his bootleg firecracker, so he'd reached for the pistol-shaped lighter he looted off of the corpse of a homeless man in Normandy three years ago and pulled the trigger. This was not that lighter. He also has a pistol, the same make and model that the real lighter was based on, and he keeps both right next to each other for his own entertainment. And now, he's just shot his own damn cigar in half. Vendetta glowers down at the smoldering stub he's set next to his gunpowder, then flicks the pistol chamber closed. Sans creeps out of his bedroom. There is a gun in his shaky hands, a weapon Papyrus knows his brother doesn't have the strength to use, but enough weight to bluff with. He cautiously peers into the kitchen. Papyrus sees the man make eye contact with him. Vendetta rolls his eyes at Roller's theatrics. "CALM YOUR TITS, WOMAN. IT'S JUST ME." No longer fearing for his life, and after a significant pause, Sans pockets his gun and rounds on his brother in a disorganized fury. "H-- What the hell are you doing?!? Do you-- I-- you just woke up the whole building!" Papyrus grabs the correct lighter, attempting to salvage the half of his cigar that hadn't fallen to the floor. "I'M KEEPING THE RENT DOWN, YOU SISSY. WHAT DOES IT LOOK LIKE I'M DOING?" He lights up. "You--!" There is a familiar, harsh knock at the front door, and Sans begins to sweat. "This is the police! You have five seconds before we forcefully search your home! Five! Four! Three--!" ---

(Do I put a warning on this? That's for you to decide.)

Undertale by Toby Fox Undertale Brittle by Grotto-kay Underfell Brittle/Bright by Grotto-kay

#tw vendetta #uf bright #grotto's journal #undertale au #undertale #au papyrus #au sans #tw gun violence #tw swearing

[halloweennut]

Once Shattered, Now Whole: Chapter 3

oh heck, new chapter. Skeleton King is a jerk, mysteries are rampant, Chiro gives a gift to Jinmay. Starts with drama, ends with sweet. 

The Skeleton King's excursion to Verron had left him with more questions than answers, and another ring to burn his hand. The two silver and jade bands were perfectly matched, and stacked together they fit perfectly. The Verron Mystic symbolism at its peak. It disgusted him. And yet, he was intrigued- not the symbolic nature, but the little mystery around them with his General and his former self. 

He had, in fact, retained his memories of before. But the less the Skeleton King remembered, the better. He couldn't allow any of that old and dead man he came from to allow passage through. Regardless, there were no memories of receiving the rings, none of his General...but there was a space of time at Verron where things became unclear. Of course, the Mystics were clueless and useless for something so long ago now that the Power Primate was rejecting them and their archives said nothing other than the brief receipt of the Alchemist being the ring's owner, and the disappearance of the other from the vaults. 

As soon as he landed back at the Black Spire, under the cover of night, he was quick to brush away Skelemandarin's prostration and inquiries. The only thing he cared about was his report on the brief breaks in the blockade, but the Skeleton King knew it would happen at some point. Some little flaw- but the blockade had done more than enough damage to make up for it. 

Before anymore could come from him, the Skeleton King dismissed him. "I am not to be disturbed. Understood?" 

"Yes, my King," Skelemandarin bowed his head before disappearing into the castle. The Skeleton King continued on to his personal chambers. He had no need to sleep or rest; he was dead after all and dead twice over. It felt more like a formality to have one, but it did allow him privacy when he wanted it. The rooms were bare, save a few archaic tomes, a table, and the few items taken from the Hero and General's old home. No light permeated the space, but with a practiced wave of his hand, candles were lit, placed all around the room and floor, wax and flames deep black as if to cast shadows instead of light. 

He kneeled onto the ground and took the facsimile of a breath. Old habits really did die hard. With practiced concentration, he slipped into meditation. One moment he was in his chambers...then with another false breath, he was in Purgatory. It was as it had always been. The Alchemist stood in front of him, his living mirror image. 

"Alchemist," the Skeleton King said. The man scowled. 

"Brave of you to come here. It's been a long time since we spoke last," he said sourly. "I felt you looking at my memories." 

"There's no way for you to return," the Skeleton King replied. "Unlike my General, you no longer have a body to return to. Our connection is one way."

"Why are you here? To torment me?" the Alchemist replied. "Is this my punishment for helping Mara?"

"I am curious as to how she managed to escape and return to her body," he said. "I believe she wasn't as dead as my soldiers thought, her will too strong. She didn't receive the same treatment you did."

"And she never will. I destroyed that portal, destroyed the notes and everything," the Alchemist said defiantly. "Even if that is what you were trying to remember, it won't work. You know as well as I do about the immemores incantation from the Verron Mystics."

"Why would I need a portal when I already walk this plane?" the Skeleton King laughed. "But...I am here regarding them."

He held his hand aloft, the two rings floating just above his palm. Even then he felt the warmth in his bones. The Alchemist looked at the rings, confused. Not even out of a reaction that they shouldn't be with the Skeleton King, far from the safety of Verron, but something just below the surface that he couldn't place. The Skeleton King read it clearly on his face and eyes. "So, you do recognize them."

"They're ceremonial rings from Verron, only used in certain rituals," the Alchemist said, trying to sound plain. "They shouldn't be here." 

The Skeleton King ignored that. "You know, one of them belonged to you. The other disappeared when you received it."

"Well, yes but...," the Alchemist trailed off. "Why did they give it to me..."

"And the oddest thing occurred - the missing one reappeared on Shuggazoom in the home of my General. My scouts found it a few weeks ago," he continued, letting that one float closer to the Alchemist. "According to my resources, she's only owned it for 17 years or so. That is the first time it had been seen since it went missing. She knows that it's important, but not why..."

The Alchemist grabbed for the ring, and it flew from his reach and back into the harsh grip of his former body. 

"So tell me, how are you two connected?"

"I...I don't know - I died before she was ever born, Mara and I-," the Alchemist tried to reach for an explanation. "We aren't in each other's memories. We were able to interact because of how close her body and you were."

The Skeleton King scoffed. "Then, by all means, she should have disappeared from you when I sent her away for off-planet tasks."

"But that doesn't make sense," he snapped. "I'm here because I died and my soul was trapped here by you and the Dark Ones. You sent her here to puppeteer her as you've done me...but she wasn't dead...I had to be in her memories, and her in mine..." 

"You said so yourself, you died before she was born," the Skeleton King taunted. "How did you know my General?"

"Her name is Mara and she is no longer yours!" the Alchemist shouted. There was a weak flicker of blue and red magic at his fingertips. "You have no right to her or those rings! They're ours!" 

"Yours?" the Skeleton King said incredulously, staring at the swell of magic in his former soul. He had been there too long. "Well then...I think it's time I left."

"No you don't!" was the last thing he heard before the Skeleton King found himself back in his chambers. He could feel, still, the weak brush of magic against his chest from the Alchemist's attempt to hold him there. He would have to fight the living soul back, probably, in the next few weeks until it was subdued, emboldened by fresh anger and confusion. The two were warranted. The Skeleton King held the rings aloft in his hands again. 

The recognition, the odd lack of clarity in his memories, the random appearance of a valuable artifact in the mother of the Chosen One's hands? It was all too much of a coincidence, and yet the lack of evidence was there. Until something that the Alchemist said rang in his head: the immemores incantation. The one spell from the Verron Mystics passed on from the Power Primate himself that could erase memories or parts of them. Just like he had done to his knowledge of the portal, the Alchemist's memories were gone or altered for part of the time he spent on Verron. Unfortunately, there was no way to access them. The body and soul had to be alive and together to do so, and that was impossible for him. Of course, he was still an alchemist after all. A few spells and potions would more than likely reveal all that was unknown now. Perhaps a mystery could be solved. 

He stood, and grabbed a few tomes from his walls. The time had come to visit another former home - the Alchemist's lab. The pieces needed for a revealing cantrip would be ready at his disposal, and simply the act of using the former home for his misdeeds would be torture enough for the Alchemist. The sun was already rising as he left for the jungle, keeping to the shadows as he sped. The last thing the Skeleton King wanted was to be seen by any scouts. He wanted no intrusions, no delays, not by some half-trained pilot or monkey or hero. He had plans to fulfill, and for this? No one would be able to stop him.

-

In the safety of Shuggazoom's walls, the supplies were being distributed out, and repairs were beginning. For the first time in weeks, there was enough food and the promise of more help helped rekindle a few spirits. Chiro had been up with the sun, helping oversee everything. When he finally took a break, the sun was getting higher in the sky. The travel from yesterday and running from one end of the city to another was hell on the engine. He leaned against the Super Robot, taking advantage of the shade. 

"Chiro?" he looked up to see Jinmay landing in front of him, and he grinned. 

"Jinmay! Sorry I didn't get to see you earlier," he quickly apologized, rushing over to hug her. 

"No, it's fine! You had the supplies to take care of!" Jinmay said. "How did everything go at the Vault?"

Chiro paused at that, pulling away from her but not letting go of her hand. "I learned almost everything about my mom. She's actually willing to tell me more now. I'm still just - she left Sprx and me at her friend's shop to confront someone and almost killed them."

"Oh," Jinmay replied shocked. 

"I just wish she had told me what was going on. I know she couldn't exactly tell me everything as a kid but now?" Chiro continued. "I don't want to be left in the dark again."

"She seems to be getting better about letting you know things. After all, you are her kid."

Chiro sighed out a laugh. "I know. There's still some stuff she won't tell me yet, but she said that she didn't want me to shoulder the burden of it, so it must be bad..."

She rested her forehead on his arm. "It'll be okay. Once everything is over with, we can all talk about everything and anything." 

"Yeah...," Chiro said softly, leaning her head onto hers for a moment before popping back up. "While you're here, I got something for you at the Vault!"

"Chiro, you shouldn't have," Jinmay protested. He pulled a small box from his pocket. "...you really shouldn't-"

"I don't want to be...forward, I guess?" Chiro stumbled for the word. "I know you said that you wished you could grow up too. And the Vault has things from all over the galaxy, including things from tech planets. And I know that if Otto could right now, he'd make this for you but-"

He opened up the box to reveal a bright silver microchip. "There's a planet whose population is androids, and they have a chip just for their kids to grow up. I already had it scanned for issues and everything. Whenever you want, if you want to-" 

"Thank you!" Jinmay squealed, hugging him. "Now I can grow up with you! I can talk to Otto and Gibson about installing it tonight when I run diagnostics- Chiro, you have no idea how much this means to me."

"I'm glad you like it," he replied. "I couldn't come back without something just for you."

Jinmay cradled the box carefully in her hands, cheeks artificially flushed. "Oh Chiro..."

Before he could say anything more, she leaned forward and kissed him. Chiro could only mumble half-cognizant replies in response, face fully red, much to Jinmay's joy. "Yeah- yes- I mean, me too. I mean- love you."

"I love you too," Jinmay smiled. "I'm going to drop this off in my room for safe keeping. I'll see you in a bit?"

Chiro nodded, watching her fly off, following her form as it disappeared into the Robot. His glance went upward, seeing two silver figures up on top of the shoulder. Antauri and Mara had been meditating for a while. Chiro knew about his mother's small connection to the Power Primate, but it wasn't on the forefront of their minds to harness it. His mother was already a fighter and didn't need it, but for Antauri he knew it was a mystery as to why it was there. Chiro couldn't help but wonder if it was because of his own connection to the Power Primate and being the Chosen One, lingering after affects from before he was born. Whatever Antauri had figured out he hadn't divulged yet, more than likely still sorting through it. 

He entered the robot, and soon found himself on the shoulder. Mara's head slightly tilted towards his footsteps, only relaxing once she recognized the sound. "Hey star sweeper. How's the supply distribution?"

"Almost done. People feel more secure now," he replied. "Can I join you two for a little bit?"

"Absolutely, Chiro. Don't think I haven't noticed you've been skipping that part of training," Antauri replied, opening one eye to look at him, his muzzle twitching into a smirk. 

"Hey!" Chiro whined. Mara laughed, patting the space next to her. 

"Come'on you," she replied. "After this, I'm going to go scouting. Want to join or are you going back to distribution?"

"Clayton said he'd take over that," Chiro replied, sitting down. "I'll take the North-side if you take the South."

"Deal," she nodded, closing her eyes again as she rested her wrists on her knees. He smiled. All the drama of the day before slipped off his shoulders, and his eyes fluttered shut. Antauri took a moment to look at the two of them. The two of them were perfectly still, fully in a trance, Chiro's connection immediately burning bright in his mind, while Mara's still only just shined liked a neophyte's in the Order. After everything she had told him the night before, he couldn't help but wonder about some thing she had said. 

"There's a whole year and a half I'm missing from my memory," she had said. "It was like it never happened. I just disappeared, was back a second later, and I had aged. Probably just an isolated wormhole and there's nothing to remember...but I don't know...it just feels like somethings missing."

If was an odd occurance, he thought. Mara had gone on to say something like a rift had been opened on the bridge of her ship and she, foolishly, walked right into it. What made him ponder further was when she mentioned where it had happened - nearby the Corolla Dawn system. She didnt' know that, seeing as it wasn't on any star maps and hidden from all save those tied to the Power Primate and the Verron Mystics. Antauri had long since stopped putting faith in coincidences, and this couldn't just been one of them. Hopefully an answer came soon. For now, the two next to him were deep in their meditation, and he was more than happy to join them in the brief period of respite they had. 

#srmthfg #srmthfg skeleton king #chiro srmthfg #srmthfg oc

[captain-of-silvenar]

Alive

Summary: Everything has gone wrong and Kerasil wasn’t waking up. And all he could do was wait and hope, against everything, that it would be alright.

She wasn’t waking up.

It had been a whole day and Kerasil had yet to wake.

They were currently hiding out in a cave made by the roots of a tree. The rain outside kept away by the vines and foliage of the jungle. Vivaldi had made a small fire to keep them warm, but he could barely feel it. All he could feel was a gnawing dread deep in his chest, slowly growing with every passing second. For what felt like the hundredth time, he glanced over to the prone form of his friend.

Laid out on her bedroll, Kerasil was motionless save for the slow rise and fall of her chest. He had removed her chest piece to better tend the wound underneath and dressed her in a thin shirt. And since then, she had not moved an inch. Not a twitch, not a stir, nothing.

It was almost maddening to see her so still. She should be moving, planning, plotting out their next course of action. Making quips at his person, and he in return back towards her.

But it was silent in the cave, save for the crackling of the fire.

As far as he could tell, there were three possibilities that could come of this day.

One: she could wake up, and all would be well in the world.

Two: she could not wake up and he would have to bare the news back to her family.

The mere thought of it made him shiver. He didn’t know if he could go back to Melar with that kind of news. To tell his friend - he had more than one these days - that his wife was gone, that she died protecting her homeland. Vivaldi saw the way they were around each other; young and in love and with centuries ahead of them. He didn’t want to be the one to shatter that image.

He pushed the thought out of his head, only to contemplate the last option.

That she could wake up… but not among the living.

That she would succumb to whatever necromantic spell that took her down and that he would have to do his job.

It was times like these that he cursed his perfect memory. The previous day was on repeat in his mind this whole time. He had spent the night analyzing every what if, could have, should have, would have that lead up to this. But he could not turn back time and Vivaldi fought to accept this fact and merely reflect on the memories.

Didn’t make it any less painful to remember.

They had finally tracked down a coven of necromancers hiding out in an Ayleid ruin. Outside were the reanimated skeletons of their victims serving as their sentries. Kerasil had managed to find a way through the bushes to avoid them and that should have been his first warning. The undead had an uncanny skill of detecting life around them and to pass by one so close without notice should have alarmed him.

But they had been tracking this group down for months and they were so close. He had chalked it up to good luck just this once and entered into the Ayleid ruin with her.

Reports had told of a small group holding out in the ruin, nothing they couldn’t take on by themselves. They would go in, capture them, make their arrest, and take them back to the city to process them for trial and prison. Lather, rinse, repeat.

It was supposed to be a normal job. It was supposed to be a normal day.

When they entered into the ruin, they knew something was wrong.

There were signs of a larger party here, much larger than any they could take on themselves. Piles of bones and desecrated graves lead the way deeper into the ruin where it opened up into an antechamber. It overlooked the main hall where they could hear chanting and the see the blue glow of necromantic magics. Kerasil had snuck up near the edge and took a quick peek over before ducking back down, eyes wide as dinner plates.

She beckoned Vivaldi over and he carefully peered over the edge to see what had disturbed her so much.

Below them, just a flight of stairs away, was not a small party of necromancers. No, it was a whole squad of them numbering closer to thirty if he counted right. This was one of the largest groups he had ever seen and it was a danger unto themselves to be in this ruin now.

“We have to go,” Kerasil had whispered to him. “Come back with reinforcements. We have proof they’re here. Let’s go.”

And just as they were about to retreat, a passing skeleton just out of sight spotted them and rang the alarm. In mere seconds they were surrounded by the undead.

They fought their way out, spells and arrows flying through the air. Where one undead fell, three more rose in their place. The necromancers began to climb the stairs toward the antechamber and added more to the undead horde. Vivaldi just barely saw Kerasil dealing with two enthralled corpses, having switched out the bow for her daggers. He looked away for one moment, just one second to take down a foe, and when he turned back she was on the floor.

He did all he could to reach her, cutting down corpses and necromancers alike. He summoned a storm of lightning to clear the path and they scattered like leaves in the wind. When he did reach her, she was unresponsive. No time to examine, he hauled her over his shoulder and made a beeline for the exit. For extra measures he dropped a wall of fire behind him, blocking the path.

And he ran. He ran past the skeleton sentries and cut down any that dared to stop him. He ran past the edges of the ruins and only paused just enough time to pick up their hidden packs before running again. There was shouting and yelling, but he was already too deep into the jungle and the setting sun casted him in heavy shadows.

It was by chance he stumbled into their hiding place, and that's where they were now. Waiting, and hoping.

Again, Vivaldi looked over at Kerasil and saw nothing had changed. She was still lying prone, arms resting on her chest. Her ruined chest piece was against the wall where he had tossed it to treat her wound. It was covered by bandages and the shirt, but he still remembered what it looked like. 

Black and necrotic, a necromancer spell if any. The spell had eaten through the armor and would've threatened to do the same to Kerasil had Vivaldi not poured all his magic into healing it. He could feel it resisting while he healed her, sweat trailing down his brow as he bid the skin to stitch back together. After what felt like hours (or was it mere minutes?) he felt smooth skin under his fingers and decided that this was enough.

At least, he hoped it was enough.

The rain outside had turned into a thunderstorm. Occasional flashes of light filtered through the roots and into the cave. Water was starting to leak down into their camp and Vivaldi stood to move their packs out of the way. In the next instant, however, the whole sky lit up as a lightning bolt struck their tree and shook it to its core.

He felt the wood groan, protesting under the force of nature. The ground shook under his feet and he nearly fell from the shock of it. But, most importantly, was the sudden and violent way Kerasil awoke from her coma.

Vivaldi was by her side in an instant, avoiding flailing arms and fists to try and calm her. She was terrified, eyes darting left and right looking for imaginary enemies. When he managed to grab her wrists to stop her flailing she let out a pitiful cry and struggled harder. He grimaced at the sound but held strong as he tried to talk to her.

"Kerasil, Kerasil!" he called out to her. "We're safe, there are no enemies here. You're safe."

Lucky him that he kept his armor on, he was sure the fingers digging into his gauntlet would've drawn blood. Not to mention the kick she tried to aim at his chest. But he avoided it easily enough and kept talking to her.

"Kerasil, listen. You’ve suffered some wounds and got knocked out in battle. I carried you out of the ruins and we're hiding in a cave. There is no one here but us. Kerasil, you're safe."

Eventually it worked and Kerasil slowly ceased her struggling. She blinked a few times, as if to clear her vision, and looked up at him.

"Vi… Vivaldi? What…?"

Vivaldi let out a breath of relief. She was disorientated, but she was awake and herself. He let go of her wrists and helped her sit up properly. She winced and curled in on herself, a hand over her wound.

"Y'ffre's balls, what hit me?”

“A necromantic spell,” he explained. “Designed to eat through flesh and bone if left untreated. I managed to stop the necrotic effects of it, but it would be best to get that looked at by a priest.”

“No kidding,” Kerasil wheezed. “Feels like the time I woke up in a ditch after the Spring Festival. Except with more hangovers and less booze.”

And despite the seriousness of her injuries and the past night, Vivaldi couldn’t help but laugh. A small one, no more than a few huffs, but it broke the tension in his chest and filled him with relief.

“Come next festival, I’m sure you’ll endure the forthcoming hangover better with this experience as comparison. Nothing like necromancy to build your tolerance up.”

At this Kerasil laughed, a weak one but no less joyful if at her own expense. She managed to sit up straighter and, to his surprise, pulled him down into a hug. Vivaldi froze, unsure of what to do next. Semi-awkwardly he wrapped his arms around her and practically engulfed her in it. Kerasil didn’t seem to mind as she held him tighter.

“Thank you… for getting me out of there and taking care of me.”

“Of course, Miss Kerasil. Anytime.”

And, for a long while, they sat like this. No need for more words, they sat in silence. It would be sometime before they could move again, but for the moment everything was right in the world.

They were alive, and that’s what mattered the most.

#shadyfics #kerasil oakvine #tes #eso #elder scrolls #bosmer

[coramatus]

there were no instructions or fine print (part 4)

“To restore the lost, find my form and sacrifice yours”

Or

That time Ingo got turned into a Sneasel because there were no instructions or fine print on the ancient mystical artifact

Based on ideas of the Transfer Error AU by @rosebloodcat on Tumblr

cw: abundance of footnotes

part one | two | three | four

mourning

When Emmet wakes up the next morning, he’s struck by the feeling of a warm, rumbling weight on his chest. For a brief moment, he thinks a Joltik got loose and settled on him as a bed. But then he realizes it's pressing down on him too much for it to be a Joltik.

He lifts his head and discovers a furry, purple Sneasel has chosen to curl up and fall asleep on him. To his sleepy delight, it’s purring.

Then the sobering truth of the Sneasel slams into him like a runaway freight train.

Tears well up in his eyes as he holds back a wet sniff, afraid to disturb his brother’s sleep.

Ingo.

His brother.

He’s home.

But such a cruel way to return…

At the start, Emmet didn’t think much of the situation. To him, he was just dealing with a very odd-looking wild Sneasel in dire need of medical care.

He knew the poachers he’d fought off would not be deterred for long if the unique appearance of the Pokémon was any indication. So he chose a private clinic rather than a public Pokécenter, one that catered to top-level trainers and offered excellent security against any would-be thieves. It was one he and Ingo had occasionally used, particularly during the height of the Team Plasma threats. He trusted that they’d keep things quiet.

As expected, the clinic was very professional, immediately triaging the Sneasel for treatment. He was more than happy to pay for everything it needed to recover. Which included body scans, bloodwork, and a basic DNA screening, particularly helpful in finding out if its curious coloration indicated anything out of the ordinary.

His plan was to release it somewhere much safer for it once it healed. Perhaps a sanctuary in another region to really trip-up any stubborn poachers. It would be for the best as he never intended on keeping the Sneasel.

Then came the test results.

The first surprise was that its genetics indicated it belonged to an extinct subspecies of Sinnohan Sneasel, a poison/fighting variant, one thought to have died out from excessive predation. This was even more surprising considering how Unova was about as far from Sinnoh as they came.

But then came the second surprise: a one-two punch that floored him.

The samples had human DNA mixed in.

Ingo’s human DNA.

Emmet could barely hear the doctor’s explanation* over his racing thoughts. He was too stuck on the fact that it was supposed to be Ingo.

The first sign in years that his twin brother wasn’t just a skeleton somewhere buried six-feet under. Or that he hadn’t just gotten fed up and left, no explanation, no warning, nothing. Or that he hadn’t found some better life on the other side of the planet without his weirdo younger brother holding him back. Or that someone hadn’t kidnapped him for whatever reason without producing a ransom note. Or that he wasn’t stranded in some alien dimension left to fend for himself. Or just too many stupid, absurd possibilities he refused to consider lest he lose more of his already delicate sanity.

(Why had Ingo disappeared? He’d gone down to the battle tracks to check on some electrical malfunctions. And poof. Gone. It made no sense.)

And it all just happened to be in the form of a Pokémon he only ran into because he’d been mildly curious about some scuttlebutt over a weird shiny.**

It was too insane to believe at first. He’d even said as much. Threatened them with a snarling smile that if they were fucking with him, he was going to punch their teeth out.

Hell, even the doctors agreed they would deserve it.

But each time the test was run, the same results came back. The chances that the human sequence could have belonged to someone other than Ingo was several billion to one. Emmet suggested that perhaps his own DNA somehow got mixed in, they were identical twins after all. But no, they checked against his trainer file and the two of them were just different enough to eliminate Emmet as being a potential source.***

Which meant… their theory might be true.

(Why a Sneasel? Why an extinct variant? Why Ingo? Why do this? Why? Why?? Why???)

For the first time in a long time, Emmet finally dared to hope.

Only for it to be crushed as the other shoe dropped.

The doctors wouldn’t say it in as many words, but they warned him that they suspected Ingo…

…wasn’t there anymore.

Based on his own report of the incident, there was a possibility that Ingo’s altered form couldn’t accommodate a human mind. That his consciousness may have been lost, as sometimes… the new body simply rejected its former passenger.

Emmet felt his heart freeze.

Part of him wanted desperately to believe that Ingo was stronger than that. That he was still there, still buried somewhere under the instincts.

But… Ingo hadn’t recognized Emmet.

He spat and growled and fought him like a true wild Sneasel on the verge of death. Not once did he see any hint of recognition in those gray eyes. Just a frightened, hurt creature that wanted nothing to do with him.****

Ingo had finally been found, only for his mind to die from the strain of the transformation.

The universe was playing some kind of sick cosmic joke on him.

Emmet had cried in Elesa’s arms.

Of course it would have been too good to be true. His luck these last few years should have told him as much. He should have known he couldn’t just have his brother back in one piece. That he could never regain the peace and happiness of his old life. Could never feel comfortable in his own skin again when his reflection in black was but a shadow in his memory.

Part of him rails against this, that this can’t be the end. That there has to be something that can be done. Some way to save his brother.

But years of false leads and dead ends have tempered his hope. He’s been beaten down again and again until cynicism and simple brutal reality carved out his soul.

(Would the old Ingo even recognize him anymore…?)

Emmet tilts his head back against the couch cushions, squeezing his eyes shut as he wills himself to stop crying. His breath hitches as hot tears trail down his temples.

It’s not fair…

Ingo stirs with a sleepy rumble.

This time, Emmet can’t hold back his crying as he covers his eyes with a hand. A loud, gasping sob escapes him.

He can’t bring himself to look at Ingo.

He feels Ingo shift, gingerly scooting up his chest. The next thing Emmet knows, a cold wet nose is bumping into his exposed throat. And then Ingo is right there, nuzzling his face against the underside of Emmet’s chin. With a soft churr, he settles there, sleepily purring away.

Emmet stays frozen in place, his heart racing.

He desperately wants this to be a sign that Ingo is still there, still looking out for his little brother…

But he doesn’t know that.

With a shaking hand, Emmet gently strokes the back of Ingo’s head. He’s surprisingly soft, his fur plush and thick, not unlike a Minccino. It’s perfect for a species living in cold, harsh climates but lacking in the protective ice-typing usually needed to thrive.

The rumbling against his chest deepens at his touch, a tiny sigh of contentment escaping Ingo’s small form.

Emmet chuckles despite the tears choking his words, “You’re verrry sweet. That part hasn’t changed…”

Leaning forwards, he wraps his arms around Ingo to cradle him in a gentle hug, careful to avoid pressing his healing ribs. Ingo doesn’t protest the change in position, merely snuggling closer.

Closing his teary eyes, Emmet breathes, letting himself simply soak in this moment of peace.

It’s not much, but he’ll take it.

Ingo peeps a sleepy complaint when Emmet carefully lifts his soft form and lays him back in the blanket nest he’d made when he first took him out of the carrier. For good measure, he scratches behind Ingo’s ear feather, eliciting a happy purr as he melts into his touch.

Emmet smiles softly. This is far more than he had a week ago.

He checks the clock.

Five in the morning.

Normally he would be getting ready for work, but with everything that’s going on, he finally forced himself to cash out a few weeks worth of leave. Not that he’s worried about his job since the station has a dedicated staff to pick up his slack.

Right now, Ingo needs his help to recover, in whatever form that takes.

Rising to his feet, Emmet makes his way to the refrigerator, intent on seeing what he can use for Ingo’s first proper meal at home. However upon opening it, he’s given a sharp reminder that he’s barely been home since Ingo was found. All that meets his eyes are condiments, soda, and some questionable leftovers he forgot about. There hadn’t been time or thought that he would need to fill his fridge with perishables again. He’d been surviving off delivery and takeout as he waited at Ingo’s side.

Frowning, he moves on to check the pantry. There are plenty of dry goods, but it all needs time, energy, and ingredients he lacks to prepare. Otherwise, it’s mainly chock full of Pokémon food and a single hidden container of poffins.

This won’t do.

Fortunately, the stores usually start opening around now so this is as good a time as any to restock.

He goes to pull on a hoodie before grabbing his keys and wallet, but stops short when he sees Ingo, sound asleep again. He’s not sure what will happen if Ingo wakes up and he’s not there to see how he reacts.

Would he just go back to acting like that scared wild Sneasel again? Would he freak out and hide under the couch? Or try to escape the second he opened the door? Would he try chewing off the bandages? He doesn’t want to put a cone on his brother for goodness sake! Not like this. Should he lock Ingo in the bathroom to keep him more confined? But it’s cold there…

He hesitates, before remembering that he’s not alone in this.

With a pop of their Pokéball and flash of light, he’s met by Chandelure, who regards him with a sad hum, their flames dim.

They had taken Ingo’s disappearance the hardest, often refusing to come out of their ball unless Emmet begged them to. Even then, they never stayed out long unless it was to search for Ingo, often relentlessly patrolling for days without rest.

Their look of devastation when Emmet had to inform them of Ingo’s fate made the both of them cry, holding each other close as they mourned.

He gives the ghost a weak smile, “Hi, Chandelure. Can you please watch over Ingo? If he wakes up… just try to keep him in the station and calm, OK?”

Chandelure quietly regards Ingo and turns back to Emmet, nodding solemnly. Their trainer is gone, but their loyalty still burns bright, still dedicated to what is left of him.

Emmet pats them in thanks.

Kneeling by Ingo’s side, Emmet strokes his head as he informs him, “I… I will be back. You need to refuel soon and I need to find you better food.”

Ingo doesn’t respond beyond a small whine when Emmet pulls away.

He feels like he’s fleeing. Like a coward.

Or maybe he wants to get away for a bit. Just to collect himself before diving into what needs to be done.

It’ll be hard, but it’s the least he can do for Ingo.

As he opens the door, Emmet pauses, leaning his forehead against the frame as he watches Ingo’s curled form sleep.

“I’m sorry…” he whispers. He can’t help the words that escape him. He sniffles, wiping his forming tears with his sleeve, murmuring, “Maybe… maybe if I did better, you’d still be here…”

With a heavy heart, he steps outside.

As he closes the door, Emmet completely misses the puzzled chirrup coming from Ingo as he lifts his head in confusion, his words only just catching up to his sluggish mind.

* Something about how a Pokémon with human DNA typically meant that that individual had originally been human but some phenomenon had changed them, leaving only traces of their original species behind.

** He hadn’t even been that interested in looking for it. He’d merely commented that it would be neat to have a shiny on his team and his staff had somehow taken that as an invitation to hustle him out of the station. They’d insisted that he take a break and get on that shiny hunt, it’d be good for him to get some fresh air. Emmet would have fought them fiercely on it, insisting he needed to be there. But after working double-shifts for several weeks in a row on minimal sleep, he was perhaps finally burnt out and unresisting enough to just go along with it.

*** And wasn’t that a kicker. Learning that he and Ingo did not in fact perfectly match down to their genetics. That this was perfectly normal for identical twins was still blowing his mind.

**** There had been a split-second where he’d paused, enough to maybe, maybe indicate something. But that soon revealed itself to just be shock taking hold.

#pokemon #pokemon legends arceus #pokemon black and white #pokemon black 2 and white 2 #transfer error au #subway boss emmet #subway boss ingo #warden ingo #sneasel ingo #sningo #coramatus’s writing #not beta read #not sure about this one but here you go

[wangxianficfinder]

I’m in the mood for a fic where...

***Remember to go follow @wangxianficfinder​, which will be the new source for these posts.  (And place to direct your Asks!)***

~*~

1. Uh hi!! Is this how I ask?? I'm in a mood for a fic where post canon lwj or wwx travels to the past and meets the other's child self. do you know any fics like that?? It's my first time doing this, so I'm a bit confused! ヘ（。□°）ヘ @sentientcongee​

Hanguang-jun’s Husband by alittlemorecreative (T, 7k, wangxian) It’s not exactly what you asked for, they both go into the past and meet their younger selves

The Eternal Recurrence by countingcr0ws (E, 51k, wangxian)

Molten Gold by jesso (M, 17k, wangxian, WIP, my post)

An Unusual Betrothal by ahealthydoseof (G, 74k, wangxian, 24 works, series in progress)

~*~

2. Hello! I hope yo are doing well and healthy. For the next mood for fic, I would like a ton of parent WY fics. Any AU. But i want it to be surprising to everyone how good of a parent WY is! Thank you for all you are doing!!! [Here are things I tagged with ‘wei wuxian is a good dad’ but don’t necessarily have people being surprised]

❤️Tragedy is Not the End by Hobbsy3 (T, 358k, wangxian, my bookmark)

The storm comes and goes (and I keep walking) by Naamah_Beherit (my post)   

Innocence by snowberryrose (G, 9k, wangxian) my post here.

Butterfly Tears by Quiet_crash (T, 6k, wangxian, my post)

And then I found you by luckymoonly (G, 5k, wangxian, my post)

Midnight Matters by Orcia (T, 10k, wangxian, my post)

Blue Blood by PotterheadAvengerDemigod (T, 72k, 17 works, series in progress, my post)

~*~

3. For your next "I'm in the mood for a fic where..." any recs where WWX came back wrong? @ehyde​

Twelve Moons and a Fortnight by stiltonbasket (G, wangxian, 290k, my post) 

It's Not The Destination (But The People You Save Along The Way) by Arcxus (T, 25k, wangxian, mo xuanyu & wei wuxian, WIP, my post) - wwx returns without a heartbeat

Love Song In Reverse by timetoboldlygo (T, 159k, wangxian, WIP)

Three Months, but One Day Shy by mondengel (M, 1k, Angst, Gore, Cannibalism, Horror)

In Memoriam by NevillesGran (G, 10k, WIP, amnesia, mind manipulation)

between the shadow and the soul by cl410 (M, 22k, wangxian, qingli, chengsang, my post)

Grief Kindly Stopped by ShanaStoryteller (not rated, 5k, wangxian)

ghosts do not speak of lies and truth by LunaChi_KuroShihone (T, 6k, wangxian)

Nonny says:  Verse was fond of this trope, but they’ve deleted all their MDZS fics. Silver bell, ivory tusk is gone, as is Scrimshaw, but Tarrare is available on the Wayback Machine here; mind all the tags!

Another Nonny says: Scrimshaw, by Verse (#20273443), is in fact available on the Wayback Machine; there’s also a Russian translation, Возвращение, by Deamuus (#25166149). The author warns, “Disturbing Themes, Disturbing implications, I really don't know what to tag this but implied fucked up shit, Click at your own risk.” (Chenqing is a *white* flute here. There’s a reason.)

It Wasn't Totally A Lost Cause by Storyboradinventor (T, 1k, wangxian)

Series There Are More Than One Reason Undead Raise by Storyboradinventor (M, 28k, major character death, bittersweet ending)

cuddle up with a hesitant skeleton by Stratisphyre (T, 3k, wangxian, body horror)

we’re starting at the end by Miss_Enthusiasimal (M, 92k, wangxian, WWX, rescued from the Burial Mounds by LWJ and JC, believes himself to be undead and is seething with unreality issues; mind the tags!)

and I was in the darkness, so darkness I became by Miss_Enthusiasimal (M, 2k, JC & WWX, wangxian, major character death, mind the tags!)

Some of the fics in #13 of this post might interest you

The Hollow Man by Gotcocomilk (T, 4k, wangxian, fix it, Bleach fusion; Hollow! WWX and Kuchiki! LWJ.)

You Have Bred the Perfect Beast by OnlyMeAndMyBones (M, 1k, WWX’s dark epiphany in the Burial Mounds; mind all the tags!)

~*~

4. Hello!! Love your blog, its helped me discover so many wonderful fics! This is a bit specific but for your next "in a mood for" post, I was wondering if you knew of any fics where Xiao Xingchen finds an injured Wei Wuxian (instead of Xue Yang)? 😊 @ruinatlantis​

These Things Unseen by bonyenne (T, 34k, wangxian, Mojo’s bookmark)

❤️Ghosts Shouldn't by ShanaStoryteller (Not rated, 15k, wangxian, angst w/ happy ending, Mojo’s post)

~*~

5. Hi Mojo! I just wanted to ask and see if you knew of any fics where the tilling patriarch travels back to his days in gusu? If you do I’d appreciate the recommendations!

how does one begin by Shializaro (T, 3k, wangxian, my post)

~*~

6. Hello! This is so late 😅 but welcome back!! I've loved all the new stuff, honestly, some of my new fave fics have been from your recent recs. I wanna ask for some fic recs. Recently, I've been craving a) super smart, academic Wei Wuxian and b) domestic Wei Wuxian where he takes care of his family, or he is given a role to help in the Sect (not as a teacher, but idk like finances/administration etc. all that good stuff), or he sews or cooks for his family. Something to that extent.

6a)

Tempo Rubato by Spodumene (E, 108, wangxian, Mojo’s post)

💖 A Cyborg’s Three Laws by FairyGardenCorgis (M, 195k, wangxian, nielan, genius wwx, medical procedures, scifi)

Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 206k, wangxian, lan qiren & wei wuxian, WIP)

~*~

7. Hi! Do you have any fic recs a) where Wei Ying is a master at something other than cultivation? He could be a cultivator but also be known for something else. Like painting, calligraphy, sewing, wood carving etc. b) Also any recs where Wei Ying is a Baoshan Sanren disciple? Thanks 😊

7a)

💖 【��夏天的我們】a stroke of fate by puddingcatbeans (G, 60k, wangxian)

Tempo Rubato by Spodumene (E, 108, wangxian, Mojo’s post)

💖 A Cyborg’s Three Laws by FairyGardenCorgis (M, 195k, wangxian, nielan, genius wwx, medical procedures, scifi)

7b)

Become Tomorrow by ShanaStoryteller (Not rated, 15k, wangxian, WIP)

~*~

8. For in the mood for fics, any that have wwx being taken away by wen Cao at the indoctrination camp as the diverging point for an au? Does wwx escape? Fake his death? Is taken for interrogation? Moved to a different facility or prison? Etc.

💖 the universe would turn to a mighty stranger by RavenclawLoki (T, 11k, wangxian, angst, fluff, au everyone lives, hurt wwx, hurt lwj)

~*~

9. Hey mojo! Wondering if you could recommend some fics about wangxian running away, I am a sucker for those

~*~

10. Hello! Your blog is a life-saver thank you for existing <3 Hehe uhm, so do you know any fics that have a different circumstance of Lan Wangji meeting Wei Wuxian in Mo Xuanyu's body?

Like a different meeting in wwxs second life, maybe he doesnt interfere with huaisangs schemes and goes his merry way etc etc

God i hope that makes sense im so sorryyy but really...thank you if you managed to finish this mess of an ask. Take care! ❤

focal, filler, and line by bosbie (T, 27k, wangxian, WIP)

💖 returning to the old homestead by cosmicfuss (M, 30k, wangxian, wwx/others, self-discovery)

~*~

11. Do you know any stories where lwj accidentally kills wwx? @sacredfire44​

in longing, we will meet again by seachronicles (Not rated, 7k, wangxian, character death, heavy angst, WIP Series)

💖 Regrets by antebunny (G, 38K, wangxian, time travel​, angst w/ happy end)

Limp by orphan_account (E, wangxian, modern military AU, LWJ fatally injures WWX during rough sex, mind the tags!)

~*~

12. Hello! Do you have any fics where wangxian break up for some reason (hopefully not toxic) and the juniors/one of the juniors/sizhui set them up again to meet? Thank you for your hard work!

not unspectacular things by taizi (T, 14k, wangxian, Mojo’s bookmark)

kick at the darkness ‘til it bleeds daylight by AlfAlfAlfAlfAlf, tardigradeschool (T, 75k, lan sizhui & lan wangji & wei wuxian, jin ling & lan jingyi & lan sizhui, wangxian, my post) - kind of a Parent Trap au

~*~

13. hey!! thank you so much for the work you do! you're really carrying half this fandom on ur back xDD just wondering, would you happen to know of any a) canon/canon-adjacent fics where wwx feels sort of out of place (bc after all, it has been 13/16 years), b) or some fics where the cultivation world has to face what happened to the wens like that one scene in tell some storm by qurbat? @celestialsilhouette​

13a)

a grain of millet drifting by RoseThorne (T, 7k, nie huaisang & wei wuxian)

instructions on not giving up by fruitys (M, 14k, wangxian)

on breathing (mourn for me yesterday) by puddingcatbeans (T, 15k, wangxian)

Scars Where They Used to Be by CwythanWind (E, 58k, wangxian)

13b)

拨云见日 by RoseThorne (G, 1k, wangxian)

~*~

14. Hi, I was wondering if there are any fics out there that address lwj's broken leg, either normally or an au?

empty as the sky by incendir (t, 23k, wangxian)

Rise of the Peacock by JustAWanderingBabbit (not rated, 51k, xuanli, 3zun, wangxian, WIP)

❤️Of Curses and Cottontails by Alliandra (T, 15k, wangxian, bunji, curses, fix it, the leg injury LWJ suffered at the hands of the Wens is aggravated when he transforms into a rabbit)

~*~

15. Hello, I was wondering if you knew the fic where jl or jc were judgemental over wwx for not staying with his husband and wandering whenever he felt like it. They wondered about how lwj could let him go. I think wwx lived in caiyi in a mansion or something with four pavilions with one of them specifically made with lotus pier in mind. I'm pretty sure it's a one shot.

I would really appreciate any help finding it, thank you [Oops, just realized this one is a Fic Finder.  But still.  Maybe y’all know it?]

~*~

16. Hi mojo i would like if you could recommend a fic where others find how shamelss lwj is ex. The juniors or like his brother, uncle

Melody and Ambience by mondengel (E, 7k, wangxian)  LWJ is definitely without shame and people find out about it,

~*~

17. Hi, thank you so much for your lovely recs! ♡ Do you have any favourite Jiang Cheng fics? @qwertzu824​

Jiang Cheng is Trying series by CaptainJojo (T, 195k, jc&wwx, jc&jl wangxian)

❤️Lynchpin by ShanaStoryteller (not rated, 103k, wangxian, Mojo’s post)

This is our Get-Along Night Hunt by hmc73 (T, 28k, wangxian, jc&lwj, jc&wwx, post-canon, fluff & angst)

Five Things That Changed for Jiang Cheng After He Regained His Core (And One Thing That Never Did) by Mikkeneko (T, 5k, post-canon, angst w/ happy ending)

~*~

18. Is there any fics where Jiang Cheng stays at the burial mounds with wwx and the wens? With either Jiang Yanli and Jin Ling too or just by himself?

~*~

19. Hewwo! First of all, I hope you’re okay! Things have been crazy lately everywhere it seems lol. Second, I wanted to ask if you have any rec in which LWJ is attacked in order to get to WWX? It doesn’t really matter who WWX ends up killing as long as it isn’t LQR, LXC, NHS, or NMJ (if still alive). The rest of the sects are fair game

Your Song Called Me, Can't Believe I am Late by Padma_Warrior (M, 15k, wangxian, WIP,  protective wwx, yiling laozu wwx, angst w/ happy ending, not gusu lan friendly)

~*~

20. Hello, do you know any fics where WWX is Hua Cheng and Luo Binghe's little brother. And that WWX is still a bottom and LWJ top? I love your blogs it helps me find good Fanfics. Thank you for your hard work!:)

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth.  Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!   ***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink!  Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic recs #i'm in the mood for a fic #the untamed #wangxian fic search #wangxianficfinder

[troquantary]

Edward Cullen: That Boy Ain’t Right

So I was doing a reread of @therealvinelle 's collection of Twilight metas, as one does, and in "Edward, Denial, and a Human Girlfriend" she mentions that she doesn't believe Edward is sane. I thought, "ha, yeah, he's definitely not," and also, "but wait, what does that mean exactly, please say more about that." But since she's already inundated with asks, I've decided to use my own head-muscle and explore this idea. (TL;DR: I start out more or less organized, synthesize some points Vinelle has made across several posts (and have hopefully linked to them all where relevant but please tell me if not), touch a little on narcissism, then take a hard left into the negative effects of being a telepath.)

Just a couple things to note at the outset, though. Theses have been written already (probably) about Edward as an abuser. Edward being insane doesn't negate that at all; he's definitely an asshole and just...a disaster of a human being. (I find it more funny than anything, but YMMV.) I'm also going to try to avoid talking specifically about mental illness and how it relates (or doesn't relate) to abusive behavior -- that's territory I'm not really equipped to discuss, like at all. My starting point is "Edward has a deeply warped perception of reality," not "Edward has X disorder."

So: deeply warped perception of reality. The evidence? Goes behind a cut, because my one character trait is Verbose.

Vinelle provides a great example of it in the post linked above, which I'll just quote because she does words good: "[Edward] keeps acting like his romance with Bella is a romantic tragedy, and all the cast of Twilight are actors on a stage making it as sublime as possible." Edward's the one to pursue Bella, but he does so with the full belief, from the very beginning, that it will never last; Bella will "outgrow" him, go on her human way, and he can spend the rest of eternity brooding magnificently over his too-short romantic bliss. [Insert premature ejaculation joke.] Turning her is never an option, even though Alice, Noted Psychic, says that romancing Bella will either end with her dead (exsanguinated) or dead (vampire).

This framing, where he's a dark anti-hero in love with -- but never tainting! -- the pure maiden and eventually leaving her in a grand, tragic sacrifice to preserve her soul? It's fucking bonkers. Bella isn't a person to him in this scenario. As Vinelle points out, Bella's never really a person to him at all; he falls in love with his own mental construct, cherry-picking from what he observes of her behavior and her responses to his 20 (thousand) Questions to convince himself that she is the ideal woman.

Bella's not the only one who gets the projection/cardboard-cutout treatment. Edward sees everything and everyone through a highly particular, personalized lens. He filters his entire reality, which we all do to an extent, but the thing with Edward is that he starts with his conclusions and then only pays attention to the evidence that supports those conclusions. Often that evidence consists of what he admits in New Moon are only "surface" thoughts -- but recognizing that limitation doesn't keep him from taking those thoughts as representative of what people are. Edward then becomes absolutely convinced by his own "reasoning" and won't be swayed from what he has decided is Objectively True. It's obvious with Bella; it's also painfully obvious with Rosalie. (Vinelle explains this and brings up Edward's raging Madonna/Whore complex in the same post, so refer to that again -- she's right.)

He also catastrophizes. Everything. Bella's just vibing in her room, rereading Wuthering Heights for the 87th time? She's gonna be hit by a meteor, better sneak into her room while she sleeps. Bella's going to the beach with the filthy mundanes their human classmates? She's gonna fall in the ocean. Jasper's cannibal pals are stopping by for a visit, but know not to hunt in the area? DISASTER, DEFCON 1, ALSO FUCK YOU JASPER FOR EVEN EXISTING IN MY AND BELLA'S SPHERE YOU UNSPEAKABLE BURDEN. Edward must believe that Bella is vulnerable and in near-constant peril, to support the reality he has created in which he is the villain turned protector and maybe?? hero??? (!!!) for his beloved. So when the actual, James-shaped danger arrives, he goes berserk, snarling and flipping his shit and generally not helping the situation. His fantasy demands that Bella remain human, so instead of doing the very thing Alice, Noted Psychic, assures him will neutralize the threat (and not just a threat to Bella, either, but to Bella's family and any other human James might decide to include in the "game"), he vetoes it immediately, no discussion. Bella Must Not Turn, and he sticks to those guns despite James nearly reducing her to ground beef, despite leaving Bella catatonic with depression (but human! success!) in New Moon, despite Aro's order and his family's vote and, let's not forget, Bella's clearly and repeatedly stated desire to be a vampire. It's going to happen. But he doesn't accept it until Renesmee busts out of Bella like the Kool-Aid man and the poor girl's heart finally, unequivocally stops.

Sane people don't behave this way. I don't want to slap labels on Edward, but I can't help but note that he comes across as highly narcissistic. He's the only real person in his universe, the lone player among us NPCs. That probably has a lot to do with him being frozen in the mindset and maturity of a seventeen-year-old boy, but I think it's also just...him, on some fundamental level. His failure to connect with others and recognize them as full, independent beings with their own wants and priorities isn't like Bella's failure -- she's badly depressed. Edward is...something else, and I get the sense that his sanity has been steadily deteriorating over time. And a cursory google of narcissistic traits turns up some familiar-looking stuff. He's self-loathing, yes, but also grandiose; he hates himself for the monster he is (and hates most vampires besides Esme and Carlisle for their monstrosity, too) but still feels superior to humans, to the extent that he felt entitled to human blood and resented Carlisle for depriving him of his "proper" diet. He eventually returns to Carlisle, but he's far from content -- the beginning of Midnight Sun finds him in a state of ennui, bored and dismissive of (if not outright disgusted by) everyone around him, that has apparently persisted for years and years. He doesn't play the piano, he doesn't compose, he doesn't enjoy anything...at least until Bella comes along and then he becomes obsessed to a disturbing degree with her and his new, romantic tragedy spin on reality.

[Next-day edit: I’m not sure where else to fit this in, but the way Edward casually contemplates violence against people who have, at best, mildly annoyed him is...chilling. I have a hard time writing off his strategizing how to murder the entire Biology class as a result of bloodlust -- it’s so calculated, nothing like the blackout state of thirst Emmett describes when he encountered his own “singer,” and that is probably the default for when a vampire is extremely thirsty. But even ignoring the Biology class incident, Edward still does things like consider, with disturbing frequency, how he might grievously injure or kill Mike Newton, all because...Edward considers him his romantic rival (despite Bella barely giving the kid the time of day). He thinks about slapping Mike through a wall, which might be an amusing slapstick image, except as a vampire Edward’s actually capable of turning this boy’s skeleton to a fine powder. So it’s, y’know, kind of sick when you think about it.

But even worse than that, when Bella tells Edward about how she flirted with Jacob to get at that sweet, sweet vampire lore, Edward chuckles and then, after dropping Bella home, flippantly observes that now that the treaty’s broken, why not genocide? I’m not even kidding, it’s right there in Midnight Sun; he seriously thinks about the fact that he’d be technically justified now in wiping out the entire tribe because a teenager tried to impress a girl with a spooky story. That is fucked. Remember, Edward was there with Carlisle when the treaty was first established. He knows how remarkable it is that they even came to a truce in the first place, that it was only ever possible because Carlisle is...well, Carlisle, and that it marks a pretty significant moment in supernatural history. He doesn’t care; he doesn’t respect it, or he’d never think something like “Ha ha, if I went and killed them all, I wouldn’t even be wrong. I mean, I won’t do it, but I’m just saying, I wouldn’t be wrong.”

Again: not the thought process or behavior of a sane person. (Or a person that respects life in general -- sorry Carlisle, big L.)]

Finally, whether he's a narcissist or not, I think the fact that Edward has constant, unavoidable access to everyone's thoughts is a powerful contributing factor to his instability. He can tune out the mental noise to an extent, but he can't stop it -- so he comes to rely on it like another sense. This causes issues with disconnect and lack of empathy, of course, but there's another facet to this shit diamond: he's basically experiencing a ceaseless flow of intrusive thoughts. His narration in Midnight Sun suggests that he "hears" the words people think, can "see" what they visualize in their mind's eye, and can sense the emotional "tone" and intensity of their thoughts. Therefore, perceiving Jasper's thirst through his thoughts makes Edward more aware of his own, "doubling" the discomfort. This would be a lot to deal with even from just his immediate coven members, but Edward gets all of this pouring into his head like a firehose on a day-to-day basis because the Cullens live right alongside humans. I know Meyerpires have galaxy brains or whatever, but that's a ton to process.

Besides the compounding effect on his own thirst when he "feels" the thirst of others, Meyer never suggests that Edward has difficulty separating his own thoughts from other people's; even when he was newly turned, he recognized Carlisle's "voice" in his head as Carlisle's. That would create a whole different host of issues around identity, but it looks like Edward's escaped that particular torment. However, I can easily imagine that what he does experience is just shy of unbearable nonetheless, with an eroding effect on his sanity over decades. He can't sleep to escape it; he's on a dishwater diet and probably (like the rest of his family) experiencing a perpetual, low-grade physical discomfort due to his thirst never being fully satisfied; and he's around far more people than is the norm for vampires -- even discounting all the humans, his own coven is unusually large -- meaning more noise.

Honestly, it would be weirder if he were all there, considering.

And even though I feel like I lost a sense of structure around where I started ranting about telepathy, I've written like 1.5k words about Edward fucking Cullen and I think that's enough for one post.

#twilight #twilight renaissance #twilight meta #edward cullen #i stared too long and the twilight abyss gazed back #long post #major credit due to therealvinelle for having basically all the ideas already #theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin too since they agree and build off each other's metas a lot #idk how people who write meta can just crank these posts out i've been here for two hours #edited to add stuff i forgot to mention about edward's disproportionately violent fantasies

[llamagoddessofficial]

I saw the notes of that last post, the spiderweb thing... Sans looks lonely there, just watching..

Hweee.... idk why the Portal AU in particular is so inspiring for me. It just is. 

Warning: some Spicy Angst in here

--

... i feel nothing.

The majority of his consciousness acted like a net, a web of channels and thoughts and commands that stretched over vast areas of the underground laboratory, monitoring and checking and surveying trillions of times a second. Red was charged with the repairing and maintenance of the test chambers and inner workings of the facility, so Sans didn’t have as much to do as he once did alone... but he was still busy, still making his way through an infinite checklist. It remained his job to oversee everything, ensure that it was up to scratch, that not a hair was out of place...

... That he didn’t have time to think.

...

... A small part of him, the absolute core of his mind, remained in one spot. Not by choice. He was tied here- to the physical shell his consciousness had been unwillingly uploaded into all those years ago. Every part of him, no matter how far it reached, was forced to interconnect back to this single spot.

...

It resembled a skeleton, supported in a standing position by reinforced bars around its middle. What a cruel joke; putting him in a robotic mockery of his old biological body. Flawless white metallic bones interconnected with smooth navy wiring, pristine in a modern and ugly way- whichever scientist had designed it must’ve had an eye for brutalist aesthetics. It was a pity they didn’t have an eye for morality... it would’ve been interesting to ask them how they came up with the design they did. Too bad they were too busy being dead to entertain any of Sans’ questions.

... The body was placed in the centre of a large, dark cylindrical chamber, untouched and unentered since the day he took control and eagerly wiped out his tormentors. Protruding out of the body and connecting into the walls and ceiling were thousands upon thousands of black wires, thick and thin alike, like an ugly dark spider’s web with him at the centre. They had to fit a lab’s worth of connections to one human-sized figure, after all. They ejected from his spine, his shoulder blades, elbows, the back of his skull, like great masses of jet black string, 1900s telephone wires... so many came from his head, in fact, that part of his smooth white skull plate had been removed to better facilitate the connection. The upper quarter of his face, just connecting his right socket, was left with the black machinery bare to the world...

like someone had cracked his skull open. heh.

...

... He was immobile. The wires that held him in place, the chains, were ironically his life support. If even one disconnected it would cause any number of potentially fatal malfunctions that could do anything from wiping chunks of his memory to causing a complete reactor meltdown to just... killing him on the spot.

...

He wasn’t even sure why the scientists who’d made this body had given it the option to move if it was so obviously never going to. The spider at the centre of the web was choked by his own metallic silk. So he remained bound, he remained frozen... the only parts of him moving as years slipped by being the little white lights in his sockets and, rarely, the tips of his phalanges.

...

... It didn’t matter that he could single-handedly maintain a city-sized enrichment centre. That he could control a reactor core while manufacturing turrets and bots in the hundreds, while creating new tests and interacting with multiple subjects. Because in the end... he was still trapped.

...

He always told himself he had no cause for complaint. He could move the entire rest of the facility- every part of it was under his command. He was a God, down in the laboratory, he could create and destroy as he so pleased. So long as he was distracted elsewhere in the lab, so long as his eyes and ears were occupied and busy, he could pretend like nothing was even wrong.

...

...

It was why slow nights where everything was going well were the worst.

He had nothing to do. Nothing to concentrate on. Red was handling whatever needed to be done in the core and around the test rooms, no major faults could be found in the systems or supports. There was no sign of either the escaped subject H4 or that... monster wandering the lower levels. And so, naturally, his awareness had returned to the place where the core of his being was locked; the ugly mass of wiring in a sealed, pitch black chamber in the heart of the facility.

His facility. His world. His plaything. His home. 

His prison.

...

His eyelights glanced an inch off to the side, and a robotic arm rose up from the floor close by. It unfolded, revealing a screen that moved close to his stationary face and blinked into life, a sudden burst of light in the usually oppressively dark chamber. It illuminated his skull, his permanently smiling mouth, the tree of cables sprouting from his form casting bizarre and thin shadows across the walls.

... The screen flickered between several channels, before landing on the one he’d been searching for.

...

It was the live feed from the camera in your relaxation chamber. His eyelights dilated a fraction as they focused on your form, wrapped in blankets on your bed. In an instant, part of his awareness reached out to that relaxation chamber... it integrated itself into the system, the walls, the radio and speakers, even the lamp by your bedside... blanketing your room.

... Immediately, he began to bury himself in all the information he could about how you were at that moment. Your heartbeat and breathing were slow and regular, your eyelids were still, suggesting you were in the deep stage of sleep. heart rate 55 bpm. life signs: stable. brain activity low.

You were pretty tightly bound in the blankets, curled up a little, perhaps you were too cold? He increased the temperature of the room by a few degrees. 

core temperature 37c, 98.6f. body mass and nourishment sufficient; paler skin, more vitamin d required. consider supplement tablets or increased uv exposure.

... A supply bot was going to pass by the outside of your chamber in a few moments. He redirected it, in case it disturbed you.

i miss warmth. i miss sleeping.

...

You rolled over, some of the covers slipping away a little. He could see your shoulders, and neck.

... heart rate 54 bpm. life signs: stable. brain activity low.

...

... Your face was so peaceful.

...

it’s not fair. 

You nuzzled into the pillow a little.

i want to touch her. i want to touch her skin. i want to touch her hair.

Emotions that once would’ve translated into physical pains were instead restricted to only his mind, wreaking untold havoc on a consciousness that was, at its core, organic. 

why can’t i feel anything? why did they take that away from me? i never wanted this.

Secluded in an artificial body, forced into a state of constant mental deterioration... eternally collapsing in on itself, but never able to die.

why did they do this to me?

it’s not fair. she looks so warm. so soft. i can’t even remember what warm or soft feels like. i can’t remember what anything feels like anymore. i can’t remember. i can’t remember

He couldn’t even reach up to touch the screen. His eyelights remained zeroed in on your sleeping face.

please help me

With no ability to detect physical sensations on his skeletal body, Sans was unaware of the streaks of black dripping from his sockets, reflecting the flickering light of the screen.

h̸e̶l̴̬̉p̴ m̴e̷ ,

...

WARNING: Core instability detected. Emotional Sphere compromised. Commencing system refresh...

...

Reboot complete. Welcome back, Sans.

#llama writes #portal au #he lonely

[battlemaiden13]

Hi! How would HND's Mc's brothers react to meeting the mafia bros and how would they react if her brothers were to give them a talking to ensure their sisters safety?

13: I was so excited to see a question about the brothers, you have no idea, like I literally squealed with excitement. I did the brothers first and then the Mafia skeletons' reactions to being given a talking to.

Asha -He is very polite, introduces himself, smiles and shakes their hand but if you look in his eyes they are cold and watching the Mafia boys every move. Spending years as a CEO he is surprisingly calculating and observant especially when it comes to reading others. He is also aware that his little sister is sort of oblivious sometimes so he won’t do anything to draw attention to the skeletons' careers infront of her but as soon as she leaves the room he is much colder to the monsters. He doesn’t threaten them as such but the change of mood in the room makes it clear that he will make them disappear if something happens to his sister.

Damian -Will straight up threaten them in front of his sister even before he figures out that they are part of the mafia. They are way too nicely dressed and way too cozy with his sister for him to be ok with that. They really shouldn’t take it all too personally though because he threatens basically anyone who gets close to his sister and looks like they have the potential to hurt you. He will get right in their face very intimidating before giving them what might be considered a very thug stereotypical threat. It’s almost like it came straight out of a gangster movie but Damian’s looks are enough to make it seem really threatening.

Nathan -Is definitely the most scary when it comes to the threatening side of things. He is like a villain out of a horror movie as he uses his powers of deduction to systematically scare his targets. He is also running a background check at the same time and will definitely be making up a blackmail file that he can use for future reference. He really doesn’t have an issue with his sister hanging out with the mafia as long as she isn’t in danger and he will be the first to find out if she is ever in danger. Nathan is the brother that will make you disappear without a trace or destroy your whole life if you do something that gets on his bad side.

Michael -His threat is actually more scary than you might originally think. He will cozy up to the mafia and act like old friends being overly friendly until you leave the room and he changes tone in a split second. He will say something very disturbing only to return to his cheerful self when you return to the room sending chills down the skeletons' spin. Being a master of games Michael is great at manipulation which he uses in order to get what he wants.

Roulette -He takes the threatening in stride, it isn’t the first time and honestly he doesn’t want to drag MC into any work related things anyway. If they hadn’t dragged him and his brother off to their house the first time they met then Roulette would have absolutely tried to avoid MC in an effort of not dragging them into their shit so he is 100% with your brothers here.

Sniper -Is instantly backtracking and is already apologizing even if he technically hasn’t done anything wrong besides his career choice. He is trying to 100% reassure your brothers that he would never do anything to put you in any danger and in fact will try to keep you as far away from his job as possible.

Colt -Not surprisingly to anyone he isn’t going to back down here which in Damian’s case may not work in his favor. He is just as snide and cruel back to your brothers as he really doesn’t like being threatened and may even use you to tease and torture them. Of course he will never actually put you in any danger (on purpose) and when Damian chills out he can get along really well with him. In the meantime he is content to fight with your brothers until they drop it.

Musket -For the most part he ignores your brother's threats. Some because he doesn’t find them that scary, others because they fly over his head and lastly because he knows if he shows any reaction then your brothers will think they’ve won and he hates losing. He does seem to be a tad more careful around you after he meets your brothers though.

Carbine -Is annoyed at your brothers not from the point of view of them trying to protect you but the fact that your brothers think he’s doing anything to harm you or put you in harm's way in the first place. He instantly becomes cold towards them whilst also trying hard to prove that he won’t put you in danger. It is very contradicting and doesn’t end well.

Rifle -He is on board with your brothers here, so on board in fact that he will actively try to avoid you from here on out. This is also because he is surprisingly easy to scare and he does not want to deal with your brothers here at all. He thinks it will be easier and safer for both you and him if he never sees you again.

#undertale #undertale imagines #mafiatale #mafiatale papyrus #mafiatale sans #mafiafell #mafiafell sans #mafiafell papyrus #mafiaswap #mafiaswap papyrus #mafiaswap sans #hnd #housenextdoor #house next door #hnd brothers #oc

[mrs-hatake]

Hello there 😊 how are ya doing?!? I was wondering if possible to send a request for head cannons for Marco, Crocodile Law and Rayleigh who have a young daughters around the ages of 2 or 3 that melts there’s hearts and there crews hearts because she is to super cute. The little things she does either playing, laughing completely shy or sleep like anything. There reactions would being heart warming ❤️ thank you so much if you able to do this my dear ❤️

a/n: hello, anon! I really enjoyed writing this request! I hope you'll enjoy it :D

also, sorry for not adding rayleigh. I just didn't know how to write him :(

Marco

I think Marco's daughter would be very curious about her dad's profession.

She would look at his medical equipment with wonder and curiosity, would constantly ask her father, what does this do? her eyes wide, twinkling. Marco would just chuckle and explain to her in the simplest way possible.

When she sees the skeleton in his office for the first time, she feels scared at first, hesitant to approach the figure. but when it does nothing, she gains confidence and finds it easy to play with it. It's her favorite thing in her father's office. There are many instances where Marco walks into his office and either sees the skeleton in a new outfit or his organs are missing as a message from his daughter that she wants to play hide and seek. He couldn't get mad at her. She was too cute.

The villagers of course all love Marco's daughter. She's sweet, polite and very smart for her age. She would assist her father with simple tasks (bring the cotton swab, bring a wet towel, etc). Slowly, she learns more and more everyday and when she grows up, she becomes a doctor just like her dad.

Sir Crocodile

Sir Crocodile's daughter is a little rascal. She's always running around in his office and drawing on his papers (luckily, ones she dug up from the trashcan). He gave up scolding her as it does nothing. He come to terms with the fact that his daughter was born with a natural sugar rush and is okay with it, so long as she doesn't disturb him.

When he has a meeting with his underlings, she is always sitting on his lap and mimicking him. She would cross her tiny, chubby arms on the table and would scowl at them. but in reality, it looks like a pout than anything.

"You insolent fools!" Her father would bark and she would echo him, mispronounces the word insolent as insholenths as it is a big word for her. The underlings find it difficult to take Sir Crocodile seriously when there's a three year old girl sitting on his lap with the cutest pout they'd ever seen. But one glare from Sir Crocodile as emphasis to his daughter's words, they straighten up and a chill of fear rushes down their spines.

One time, Sir Crocodile had returned to his room after a long meeting, hoping to relax with some soft music, only to be surprised to find his daughter had been in his bathroom and found his hair gel and had a gunk of it stuck in her hair, eyes bawling at how the comb wouldn't come off. When he asked her why she did that, she said that she wanted to look like daddy and, honestly, how could Sir Crocodile be mad at such a cutie pie?

Law

Law's daughter is already everyone's daughter. From the second she was born, the whole crew fell in love with her and swore to protect her. They never missed a single important moment in her life while growing up. She always felt loved.

Whenever they're away on a mission, a maximum of five crew members would remain in the submarine to take care of her. The first few times Law had to part from his daughter and she was old enough to understand that she won't see him for a while, she would cry and cling onto him. She only calmed down when Law reminded her that her wonderful uncles were with her. And when they return from a mission, they would shower her in souvenirs and cute clothes to make up for being away.

She is a one baby show. She would help Law whenever he has a patient, study with Bepo about all sorts of new animals they had encountered, learn basic self defense with Shachi, and play with Ikkaku when she had the chance.

They were the perfect dysfunctional family and Law's daughter wouldn't replace them for anything, not even for the most valuable treasure.

#one piece headcanons #op headcanons #marco headcanons #sir crocodile headcanons #trafalgar law headcanon #op imagine #one piece imagine

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Weird, “A Preoccupation with Death.”

Hope you enjoy :)

Analysis By Dr. Krill MD

Humanity’s preoccupation with death has always fascinated me: I say fascinated because to say that it disturbs me would be rather unscientific, and I have been attempting to reign in my anger… I have had some… complaints over the last year about the unprofessionalism of my previous papers. The GA community does not appreciate, and I quote, “Excessive swearing, and screaming” in virtual reports, so today I will attempt to be calm and relaxed as I explain to you, common human traditions based around death.

Now you must understand, from my perspective these practices are quite bizarre. Vrull have no rituals associated with death. The Vrull are disposed of and their bodies are incinerated. The ash is then disposed with by mixing into the soil to produce needed plants on the planet surface. There are no other options, and no other arrangements are made.

However, I am told that funeral rights with humans are, often, more to do with what the living need than what the deceased do. However, there are some funeral rights believed to be required in certain human cultures, so that rule does not always hold completely true.

I will begin from the moment of death.

Unlike the Vrull humans do not know their exact time of death. Granted this is not because the Vrull have a set clocking system in their bodies which sets the time in which we die, but because our society sets forth a time of our usefulness. No one knows how long a Vrull can feasibly live because no one has tried it before. I myself might plan on finding out, as I have no intention of returning for my scheduled termination, which is already a year overdue.

Humans, like most other species die in several different ways, accidents, sickness, or the sudden failure of the body due to old age, the final one generally happening peacefully and in their sleep.

However this is where humans tend to diverge from their inhuman counterparts, in that they are very social creatures, the death of a human is usually witnessed by multiple family members and friends, in the case of sickness, and is mourned many weeks after because the death of someone in your social circle changes that circle forever. Social bonds are cut and entire social lives are upended. Humans bond so heavily with each other that the loss of one of their own can lead to mental and emotional trauma extreme enough to require medication and hospitalization.

Humans plan their deaths months to years in advance. In certain instances, their jobs force them to plan their death in advance in case something were to happen. Decisions need to be made about who owns their property, where it goes, what happens to their dwellings, and how the surviving members of their family will be supported. Sometimes they plan this due to terminal illness which they knew will lead to their deaths, otherwise they might just do it out of precaution.

There are many different ways of disposing of a corpse. First of all, you must determine if any of the human parts are recyclable: this being the very morbid idea of taking someone else’s organs and giving them to another person. Now with the advancement of this technology, organ transplants from donors is not as common as it once was seeing as they can now 3D print organs. However, this method is not time effective and is very costly, in some cases leaving the harvesting of deceased human organs to be the only viable option.

Yes, they take organs from dead people… the doctor and surgeon in me admires that thought process, but the thinking breathing creature inside of me recoils heavily at the idea.

Assuming that no one requires your organs, or if you have especially requested for your organ not to be used  than there are other questions that need to be addressed. There are humans who have jobs especially in the business of taking care of dead bodies. They are generally moved in special containers and placed in refrigerated units to slow decomposition while the relatives determine what they want to do with the body.

In certain cases, where the death is suspicious, as related to murder, there are, in fact, humans who specilize in determining the cause and time of death based on the decomposition rate of a body and the stiffness of the flesh itself. This is a semi-common practice across the galaxy, and I myself have performed one or two autopsies since my professional career began though they are far more common for humans.

I find that the most humane method of human enterrement, and the one that makes most sense to me as a Vrull is the idea of cremation. The body is taken and placed in a furnace that is then heated enough to turn the body to ash leaving only bone fragments and the occasional mineral deposit. The ash may then be given to the family members or disposed of accordingly. Some humans find it comforting to keep the remains in some sort of container.... A fact which I find morbid but, we have proven in abundance that I find much of what humanity does, rather morbid.

It is only going to get worse.

The other method of disposal, popular through human history, however made someone obscure in recent centuries due to the proliferation of human burial sites…. The common north american and European Burial and funeral rights went as follows. After death, and freezing in the morgue, a special human with the job of mortician is called in to prepared the body for burial…. This is where it gets very morbid.

The body is drained of all of its fluids and then pumped full of preservatives to slow down the process of decomposition. The faces are then painted with makeup to give the corpse the appearance of sleep rather than death. The body is dressed in fine clothing and placed inside a coffin or casket: these in themselves can cost thousands of dollars as the family members decide what materials the box should be made out of and lined with, precious metals, woods like oak or steel, and the inside lined in velvet satin or silk. The body is placed inside with the person dressed in a finely tailored suit before a hearse: a special vehicle designed to carry caskets is brought to the place of mourning, generally a curch or a funeral home.

Many times the body is then put through a “viewing”.... It sounds just as bad as I make it seem, when the humans come in…. In large groups…. To stare at their dead relative. Just…. Stare at their rotting corpse before it is hauled away and lowered into an six foot hole in the earth. A decorative rock is then place on top of that inscribed with the deceased’s name so that everyone knows where to find their moldering corpse….

….

….

I am told this provides a lot of closure for family members, though I have yet to understand why staring at a painted corpse would be helpful.’

Unfortunately, with humans, this isn't the most gruesome method they have of corpse disposal, nor the most involved 

You may also chose to donate your body to science…

They might hand your bod over to a medical school, where aspiring doctors will, in groups, dissect your corpse slowly over an intervening few weeks or months. It is… gruesome, but a necessary part of the learning process. Your skeleton might even be recycled for use as a tool to demonstrate the skeletal structure to those very same students.

Perhaps your body will end up in a museum, where they will encase your nervous system in plaster and place it on a wall for school children and visiting day travelers to view.

Perhaps you might donate your body to…. A body farm. A palace where scientists will toss your corpse out into different elements to observe the rate and change of decomposition based on different dump sites. They will examine the decomposition, the moisture loss, and the bugs which take to eating your body. This research will then be used to determine the cause o death for other corpses disposed of by murderers or in similar fashion.

It is gruesome, but I suppose…. It is useful for scientific efforts.

These aren't the only methods of body disposal.

Bodies have been tied to the top of large towers

Thrown into the woods to be eaten by animals

Dumped into pits.

And in a couple of cases, launched into the vacuum of space.

Different rituals require family members to spend more or less time with the body, to wrap it in special cloth, or to anoint it with certain oils. 

The Egyptians were widely known for their complex and involved enterrement rituals commonly known as mummification.

The body was first embalmed

The brain was removed

The organs removed and placed in specialized canopic jars 

The body was then dried

Then wrapped which continued to help in the drying process 

Then the body was finally entered, and due to the sandy heat of the desert, the body was often preserved to a great and surprising degree. Egyptians believed that those things you had in life would come with you after death, and so egyptian rulers were entered with great riches and inside grand palaces 

Then of course there is the last ritual which I learned about just recently.

Certain tribal societies will….. Eat…. their dead….

They will eat them….

As in the entire village will get together and consume the corpse in a feast, believing that without this they cannot enter the afterlife.

…..

…

…

…

…

I am going to draft a proposal to the GASC that screaming and profanities should be considered scientifically appropriate when in regards to humans

#humans are insane #HUMANS ARE WERID #humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities #earth is a deathworld #Earth is space Ausralia