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dragonshifter-minecraft · 2 years

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Chapter 28 - Mercy

[Previous] ~ [Next]

[Word Count: 2567]

[Content Warnings: SOFT/SAFE VORE, Mentions of Hard Vore (none happen), Mentions of Digestion and Death (again, none happen), Fear, HEAVY Angst]

[Once more, the following chapter contains VORE – feel free to skim, skip, or block the tags ‘tw vore’ and/or ‘extreme cuddling’ if this makes you uncomfortable!]

“Wait, NO!!!” Bad shrieked hysterically, squirming against the clawed fingers that held him captive. All of a sudden, he had a very clear idea of what the dragon was about to do, and it did not bode well for him. With every ounce of strength he had left, the Enderfolk began to fight the beast’s hold on him, intent on not becoming the dragon’s lunch.

The corners of the creature’s mouth curled slightly upwards into an amused smile, a deep, rumbling chuckle feeling as though it was rattling his very bones. The monster was laughing at him. Then, it started to lower him in.

He kicked desperately at the dragon’s tongue as soon as it was within reach, only for the pink muscle to unexpectedly slither up behind his legs and back. He yelped reflexively, at the same time feeling the grip of the dragon’s paws suddenly releasing him, freeing his arms just before he began to slide downwards into the creature’s maw.

He shoved wildly against the tongue that was attempting to draw him in, his hands slipping as he futilely tried to find some kind of handhold. Warm drool soaked through his clothes as his whole body was pulled into the tooth-lined mouth, the tongue curling around his struggling form without any sign of being affected.

“Dream, don’t do this!” Bad tried again, shuddering as the slimy muscle urged him further back, the knife-like teeth slowly closing all around him.

In a rush of sheer panic, he managed to roll himself over, desperately scrabbling at the slick tongue as he struggled back towards the light, but the daggerlike fangs promptly snapped shut in front of him.

All at once, he was sealed in damp darkness.

A shriek escaped him as as he felt himself sliding, the mouth around him slowly tipping to send him falling backwards, and towards the gaping throat.

Digging his fingertips into the plush muscle beneath him, he frantically attempted to claw his way back towards the front of the monster’s gigantic mouth, but his gloved fingers just couldn’t find purchase on the slobber-slicked flesh.

Before he could fall too far, however, he was abruptly caught by the tongue pressing him to the roof of the mouth, momentarily knocking the wind out of him.

Bad soon found himself being shoved and squashed at insistently, the slimy muscle pushing at him all over, slathering him in hot drool. There was no hint of carefulness from the beast, rolling him around and licking at him as though he were nothing more than a morsel of food. At any moment, he expected the beast to get tired of him, to cram him towards those horrifyingly massive fangs and end him – and there was nothing he could do about it.

Between his throbbing head, his aching body, and his struggles to even breathe past all the slobber, he could only pray that it would be quick.

And then, ever-so-subtly, he felt gravity beginning to shift, the motion around him slowing.

A rippling swallow abruptly tugged him downwards, and he cried out in fear as he found his legs almost completely enveloped in hot, slimy flesh – presumably the creature’s throat.

With renewed vigor, he once more began to fight, thrashing and striking out with his hands to the best of his ability, even as he was pinned more securely in-place by the tongue.

The dragon wasn’t chewing him to pieces – it was going to swallow him whole.

He let out a fearful whine. The dragon was holding him in-place for the moment, the plush muscle holding him firmly against the very back of the hard palate while his lower half was pressed dangerously close to the point of no return. Nearly his whole body was drenched with saliva, the horrible tongue massaging and curling around him.

“Please don’t do this,” he whimpered hopelessly, feeling the wet muscle running up and down his back, further slathering him in terrible slobber.

It was tasting him.

“Dream, please!” Bad cried out, squirming frantically. Tears were stinging at his eyes, and a sob jerked through his whole body. This was so, so wrong.

A deep rumble shook all around him, the beast probably laughing at him again. Then, he felt himself squeezed even tighter as a deafening gulp dragged him down into the dragon’s throat.

Rippling flesh squashed against him, his body slipping deeper and deeper into the creature’s gullet. A quick succession of swallows pressed in on him from all sides. The throat was almost suffocatingly tight, each fresh gulp crushing the air out of him and leaving him desperately panting for breath. There wasn’t anything he could do, nowhere he could go but down.

It wasn’t much longer until he heard and felt the steady booming of the dragon’s heart, pounding so much slower and louder than his own. Afterwards, the pressure around him seemed to increase, to the point he couldn’t even take in a breath.

As he was still panicking about his inability to breathe, he felt his feet suddenly squeezed into a hot, damp space below.

The dragon’s stomach.

He was powerless to stop himself as the beast gave one final swallow, shoving the rest of him down and into a round, fleshy chamber, with walls covered in slime and mucus. He gasped for air, only to cough and gag bitterly on the stale, humid supply he was met with.

For a minute or two, he could only lay limply in the pit of the creature’s velvety stomach, breathing heavily in an attempt to refill his deflated lungs. It was too dark to see anything, the only source of light coming from his gleaming eyes, which were too dim to illuminate much. Unknown fluids pooled around him, and he felt the flesh shift slightly beneath him.

If he didn’t get out of here, and quick…

Bad sat up in a hurry, attempting to get as much of himself out of the acids as possible. The stomach wasn’t as large as he’d expected, but that didn’t matter – what mattered was getting out of there as quickly as he could. Frantically, he began to shove at the walls, kicking and clawing at everything within reach in the hopes of giving the beast some kind of bellyache.

Aside from an irritated grunt, the dragon did not react.

“Dream, let me out!” he screamed desperately, pressing his hands into one of the walls as far as they’d go.

Bad suddenly slipped, falling face-first against the slime-covered flesh. He hurriedly sat up, hastily scrubbing the fluids off of his face to the best of his ability.

He began pounding on the walls again, trying to elicit some kind of response, some nauseated movement, or— or something! There had to be some particularly sensitive spot he could strike!

With every attack, he could feel the soft flesh giving way, stretching with his every attempt to hurt the creature, but nothing seemed to be working. Even if it was, the beast didn’t seem inclined to share.

He could feel exhaustion pulsing through his limbs as he continued to struggle, his panicked shoves and smacks gradually weakening as his muscles begged for rest. There was no way he could keep this up.

Still, the dragon did nothing to help him.

The slayer whimpered as his arms finally gave out, not knowing what else he could do. The acids were probably already setting to work digesting him. He couldn’t seem to cause enough discomfort to make the beast let him go, and he already knew he wouldn’t be able to talk his way out. There was nothing he could do…

He was going to die in here.

The tears were back, streaking down his dark face to mix with whatever slime was still clinging to him. He slumped against a wall, not even thinking about the shallow pool of strange liquids he was sitting in as he broke down crying.

“Dream, please,” he sobbed pitifully, “please don’t kill me…”

The dragon remained silent, its thunderous heartbeat and the whooshing of air in its lungs being the only indicator it was even still alive.

Sniffling bitterly, Bad curled in on himself, continuing to weep as he waited for the end. It couldn’t be long, now. After spending his whole life killing dragons, he was ultimately done in by a fellow slayer whom he’d considered an ally. He wondered what his friends would think, or if they’d ever find out what happened to him. They’d probably never know that it was Dream that killed him… or even that Dream could transform into a dragon.

No one would ever know where he’d gone.

Bad pulled his legs in tighter, sobbing even harder. He’d never get to find the ancestral home of his people, or destroy its draconic tyrant. After all these years of practice, it all amounted to nothing. His reason for living, the thing that brought him and his friends together, that had given his life meaning – it was all for nothing!

That’s when he at last took notice of something stiff pressed uncomfortably against his ankle. What was…? With a shaky hand, he reached down into his boot, and found the hilt of his knife.

His knife!

He’d completely forgotten about the knife he kept in his boot!

Heart racing, he pulled the blade from its sheath, seeing the light from his eyes reflecting against the polished metal, a shimmering beacon of hope in the pitch-blackness of the stomach that surrounded him. Bad clutched the dagger tightly, sitting up as he considered his next actions. Could he cut himself out, somehow? He actually wasn’t sure where a dragon’s stomach was, in relation to the rest of their body.

He quickly focused on the sounds made by the beast’s inner workings, trying to pinpoint where exactly he was. On either side, and maybe slightly above him, he could hear the rushing of air through the creature’s massive lungs, and its heart was pounding somewhere beside him.

Wait, beside him?

Was it supposed to sound so close?

The arrangement of the surrounding organs was baffling, though its heartbeat was a start. Raising himself onto his knees, he turned so that the heart was somewhere to his left. He gripped the knife tighter, contemplating where to plunge it. Then he jumped in surprise at an unexpected sound that had come from behind him.

It was the quiet growl of a stomach.

It didn’t sound close at all.

Bad blinked in confusion. There was no mistaking what he’d heard – that was definitely a stomach growling.

So why did it sound so far away?

Cautiously, the Enderfolk considered his surroundings. He hadn’t heard a single growl or groan from the chamber he was in since he’d been swallowed. He had been lying in the acids for quite some time now, and he had yet to feel any painful burning, or even any mild tingling. The stomach – if it even was a stomach – didn’t seem to be active in the first place. As soon as he’d thought about it, he realized that there weren’t that many fluids to begin with – just a shallow pool that didn’t even submerge his legs.

These weren’t acids!

He didn’t really want to think about what they were, but it was very clear that they weren’t hurting him. This wasn’t the beast’s stomach.

He was safe – he wasn’t being harmed, just… contained.

So why would Dream have eaten him in the first place?

The answer came to him abruptly, and Bad immediately felt like slapping himself. He’d shot down the other dragon-person, who was apparently a friend of Dream’s – of course Dream would’ve been mad!

When he thought about it, it was a wonder he wasn’t stewing in acids for what he’d done.

Suddenly feeling rather guilty, the slayer carefully returned the knife to its sheath. If the dragon wasn’t going to hurt him, even after all the harm he’d caused, then there was no reason for him to hurt the dragon.

“Dream?” he raised his voice, which was still a little rough from all the shouting and crying he’d been doing.

A guttural snarl echoed around him. Well, it was better than nothing.

“…I’m sorry,” Bad called quietly.

The dragon didn’t respond beyond a deep sigh.

Bad didn’t particularly blame him.

Much calmer than he had been before, the Enderfolk settled down with his head and shoulders propped up against the nearest wall, lying sprawled out on his back. He was exhausted. After all of the fear, fighting, and emotional turmoil, Bad wanted nothing more than to pass out for several hours.

And at the moment, there seemed no better place to nap than the dark, humid warmth of the dragon’s pseudo-stomach.

It was strange to think about. If it had been any other dragon, he probably would have been dead. Instead, he was held apparently safe and unharmed, tucked away somewhere incredibly soft and warm. The ambient sounds didn’t unsettle him as greatly as they had initially. The air was a little stuffy, but nonetheless breathable now that he wasn’t panicking. The yielding flesh beneath him seemed to cradle his whole body, the heat relaxing his aching muscles and slowly lulling him to sleep.

His eyes closed readily, his breaths leveling into soft, sleepy snores.

Dream was seething.

He still had half a mind to digest the Enderfolk for what he’d done. But Dream wasn’t an idiot – he knew that Bad had likely told his two slayer friends where he was going, and he knew they’d probably go looking for him if he didn’t come back. Those mountains by Aureus were the only place in the world that he felt safe transforming in, and he wasn’t about to have vengeful dragon hunters ruining that in search of the beast that killed BadBoyHalo.

Besides, Dream could act predatory, but he wasn’t that cruel.

He idly wondered what all had been going through the slayer’s mind. It was clear that he’d figured out he wasn’t going to die, but how long had he clung to that initial thought? What had been the thing that made him realize he was safe? Questions continued to buzz in his head as he gently felt at the motionless weight inside, careful not to wake him.

Dream could already feel faint waves of pain pulsing through his abused crop, on account of all of the careless pushes and shoves perpetrated by Bad. He hadn’t reacted at the time, but all of that struggling had genuinely hurt. After all was said and done, he was probably going to be bruised and achy for some time. But on the bright side, his steadfast silence had achieved the desired terror. He’d gotten his revenge on Bad, and he didn’t have to kill him.

He still kind of wanted to, though.

The green dragon sighed deeply, lowering his chin to rest on the cold stone floor. He curled up in a comfortable position, his tail wrapping around himself as he settled down. Dream had to agree with Bad – sleep didn’t sound like a terrible idea. At least if he was asleep, he wouldn’t have to argue with himself over what to do with the Enderfolk in his crop. That was an issue he could sort out when he woke up.

The dragon’s eyelids fell shut, and he was out in minutes.

[Author’s Note: Remember what I said all the way back in chapter 3 about writing a later part of the story? Here it is, the first vore scene I ever wrote for this fanfiction! Okay, well… admittedly, I did end up rewriting it TWICE. That being said, I’m really happy with how it turned out! This story has had a disappointing lack of angsty noms ever since that one two-chapter scene in Part I, so I hope y’all enjoyed this one! Lord knows it won’t be the last scene like this, hehe…]

#dream team #mcyt #my writing #Dragonshifter Story #Part III #tw vore #extreme cuddling #dragon!Dream #ohohohoho this has been a long time coming

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grupositespeed · 2 years

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ask19thcentury-doctorgilbert · 3 years

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“... God I am so thankful for germ theory and higher sanitary standards,”

Awww you’re too sweet anon 🥰

#answered #ask19thcenturydoctorgilbert #Hetalia Ask Blog #aph prussia #hws prussia #gilbert beilschmidt #aph france #hws france #francis bonnefoy #injury tw //#blood tw //#gore tw //#my sister said that nations are basically like titans #but without the ability to shift into gigantic monsters #they're just all that power and supernatural healing trapped #in the shell of a human body #and i can't unsee it now #[ Meta ]

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wedreamedlove · 3 years

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MLQC Men Headcanon Notes

Now that I’ve spent more time with these men (it’s getting close to 2 years!) I wanted to share the general thoughts, themes, motifs, etc. that I keep in mind when I’m writing their character.

This is 1000% headcanon territory, so feel free to take what’s useful and ignore what’s not LOL but I’d also love to see people add in their own “character reference cheat sheet” to this!

(I’m especially curious because, due to being of Asian diaspora, I write best in English but my understanding of the characters come from CN/JP text). Incidentally, if anyone feels ANY of this when reading my fics, then that’s all I could ever ask for LOL.

LI ZEYAN

He is Capricorn² and, while the game doesn’t make explicit mentions to this, I associate the element earth with him because of this. He’s described with attributes like being steady, calm, and always in control. He is the epitome of an immovable boulder and things revolve around him, not the other way around. I like to draw on imagery of unbending steel and/or the stable ground.

Meanwhile, like the goat of his astrological sign, every step he takes to climb to his goal is assured. He doesn’t do anything spontaneous or without thought, so if he does lose control and act without thinking then it has to be a momentuous occasion. Basically, it’s really important to me that if I write a loss of control, then it’s likely to be the centerpiece.

Keeping in mind that his Evol is time control, I also like to try and subtly weave an atmosphere of how everything happens at his pace. Winter being his season only adds onto this because the world stills when it’s covered in snow; everything becomes muted, hushed, and slowed in this season.

The chemistry in his romance arc is how his pace and control gets disturbed, but he adapts quickly and learns to go along with these moments of whimsy. Or more like that’s his character development and how love changes him.

His canon (spirit) animal is the cat and lion. Felines go along very well with the emperor or noble archetypes he has in all his AU cards, because cats are stereotyped as being independent and haughty animals. He’s not big on PDA or excessive skinship, but he’s not disagreeable to them either. Too much stimulation and, like a cat, he’ll probably show exasperation. Ignore him for too long though and he’ll come to share his presence with you.

For me, his love is shown through quiet acts of service that don’t have any attention drawn to them. Him just being in the same room or giving his attention is how he emotes his love.

He’s quite low-key in his normal life so he doesn’t seem like someone who gets confused over commoner things, but there are also moments where he spends an enormous amount of money without blinking. If life can be made easier with money then why not, right?

Keywords: Calm. Steady. Earth. Immovable. Control. Exasperated Affection. Time. Cats. Literal Capricorn. Winter. Mature.

ZHOU QILUO

First thing that comes to mind is the sun and heat. Fire is his element and so I go for stereotypical imagery like flares of passion and burning bright. He switches expressions and moods at the drop of a hat and he’s a mood maker to the extreme, but there’s no hiding the way he shines with his love for his love.

However, because he’s also Helios, it’s really important for me to play around with dualities and explore the other side of this positive imagery. So, just like how the sun can bring warmth and life, it’s also a deadly laser something that can hurt people by blinding them or setting fires. It’s also fun to remember that the moon only has light from the sun’s reflection.

Game-wise, I believe Helios has been described with cold and ice imagery but, because I try to keep that imagery for Li Zeyan, what I like to consider instead is that extremely cold things can “burn” you too. Frostbite can also be called ice burn.

The sky is repeated imagery for Luoluo too, because of his eyes, but I’ll admit I’m still uncertain about how to interpret this for his character. Generally, the sky represents freedom but...? How I approach this is that the sky doesn’t discriminate and protects everyone below it (echoing his quote about how he protects the light in the dark).

On this note about the sky being welcoming, I view Luoluo’s love as one that accepts his love no matter what they’re like and he grows together with them (unlike the two adults, Li Zeyan and Xu Mo).

However, again, it’s super important to remember his duality and just because he’s a playful mood maker doesn’t mean he’s not able to switch into a serious and mature mode. He keeps his innocence and warm heart despite the darkness he’s seen and understands.

His canon animal is the bear which also makes me tilt my head. I can only see this as how bears are seen as both cuddly and cute, but also fierce and protective. He was also given a stag but... no one uses that LOL.

Keywords: Fire. Passion. Playful. Innocent. Little Sun! But Moon. Spring. Sacrifice. Darkness. Sky. Mischievous. Mood Maker.

BAI QI

Every single cell in his body is attuned to his love. You ever lose your phone and then, for the rest of the day, you feel as if you’re missing an important piece of yourself and you have intrusive thoughts wondering where it is? That’s him. You ever see something so cute you experience cute aggression and don’t know what to do with yourself? That’s him. You know those dogs that strain at their leashes on the streets because they want to go and greet you? That’s him.

It’s all about the yearning.

I know, I know, I wrote essays about how he can survive without his love and how he’s someone who carries both love and a greater justice BUT let’s not kid ourselves that he doesn’t revolve around his love like Jupiter around the sun.

Anyway, so the game shoves wind descriptions down our throats. It’s literally another vehicle for him to emote his love and, to be honest, I don’t do much with it other than use it for that. I talked about it extensively in my character essays, but I suppose I play with the irony of how he’s only free because he has a home can return to. [Loneliness SR Wind and Care Call] “Because I have a place for my heart, I can fly anywhere.”

I don’t believe the game emphasizes this any more than it does with the other men, but I try to always have a point of contact between Bai Qi and his love because, again, the yearning and vibrating with All That Love. He’s such a physical character (military archetype) that I also want to emphasize that in writing.

In addition, I’m all about him being the most feral of the men. Heck, his canon animal is the wolf which is great for both its stereotypical and non-stereotypical meanings, such as being a lone wolf and ferocious animal but also a pack animal that can’t survive on its own and needs a pack. Meanwhile, NW717 is described in-game as a monster.

Look, one of his signature descriptions in the game is resting his chin on or against his love’s head and nuzzling them. I’m not baselessly trying to push my kink I swear.

So, like how Bai Qi said in [Light Bath SSR: Tenderness Call] that maybe he only shows his gentleness towards select people (his love and mother), he’ll give the person he loves all the warmth of his being but, oh boy, I see him as being a beast who will remember his true nature upon being chained; the “chain” of love gives him the reassurance he needs to be truly free... in all its meanings.

Keywords: Ginkgo. Summer. Primal. Wind. Love is love is love. 3-Point Contact. Wolf. Yearning. Vitality. Justice. Freedom. Physical. Restraint.

XU MO

First, given how vocal I am about Elex’s changes, this is probably going to be the most drastically different section out of everyone vs. their English version.

Soft. Light. Gentle. Kind. Gossamery. Feathery. Ethereal. Faint. Whenever I write him, do I literally open up a thesaurus to find synonyms for gentle, light, and soft? Yup! LOL.

Fun fact, in CN and JP the word for “smile” and “laugh” is the same character and so sometimes there is ambiguity when translating if there’s no clear markers. The writers definitely had a word in mind when they wrote the scene, but unfortunately we don’t have the ability to check with them at every use and so sometimes it does come to subjective interpretation.

For me, Xu Mo is characterized by a lot of quietness. Game-wise, there are enormous usages of silence and descriptions of emotional fluctuations in his eyes so Significant Silences and Looks are a major thing with him and in my writing for him, which is why I always choose “smile” over “laugh” if there is any ambiguity in the line (I believe Elex leans towards chuckles).

On a similar note, the game also gives him a gigantic serving of descriptions that only ever use the word for “light, slight, faint, soft, gentle” in JP and CN. It gives him a very floaty and dreamy feeling, even if he’s doing something physical. So, it’s important for me to keep a similar atmosphere when writing and make everything feel as if it has to be shared in a whisper.

A bonus here is that it doesn’t require much to turn this ethereal feeling into a melancholic one, so you get that dash of angst that layers over everything. Leave a few things unknown here and there, incomplete actions, eyes that get averted and Boom. Angst.

Shifting gears, but if my imagery of Bai Qi’s love is like a tense, vibrating, and restrained chain of yearning then Xu Mo’s love is like a flood barely being held back by a dam. Knowledge of the quantity and weight behind the dam is terrifying, but it’s safe to be submerged inside it. Much like Luoluo and Helios, Xu Mo also has a dangerous duality in Ares and so I also like to play with this imagery.

So, on this point, I like to preserve an underlying sense of darkness (all-consuming possessiveness, etc.) and envision that he also wishes to stain his love in his colors, like a drop of ink on white paper and how it seeps into every fiber of the paper until the whole thing is saturated with him.

Incidentally, I’m reminded that—whenever possible and natural—I want to exclusively use water imagery with Xu Mo. The game supports this too! He is described with extensive water imagery and so I try to use water metaphors, analogies, and similes.

I try to make sure every sense is present, but I feel like the game emphasizes (especially with the red thread of fate imagery) that Xu Mo and his love are connected at a soul-deep level and so I always keep in mind a mental, emotional, and spiritual aspect.

Lastly, his canon animal is the fox (we ignore the black goat LOL) so contrasting his elegant, scholarly, and gentleman’s air with a black belly, teasing, and mischievous air is also important! Sexual but with, you know, class.

Keywords: Butterflies. Monochrome. Artist. Red Thread. Autumn. Melancholy. Water. Soft. Gentle. Light. Faint. Dreams. Spiritual. Fox.

LING XIAO

I’m getting more comfortable with him, but he’s still shrouded in so much mystery. If every one of the other men treat their loves with gentleness though Ling Xiao is definitely one who isn’t afraid of roughhousing. He’ll act first and then ask for forgiveness afterward, if needed.

But I like to keep in mind that, for all his roughness, he’s still a good kid at heart and when he saw MC’s skirt rising up when he tried to pull her over the fence he immediately stopped. So, a bit of a bully but without any humiliation.

Intelligent, strong, and dangerous but hiding all of that beneath a devil-may-care attitude and someone who does things on a whim. I don’t know what to do much with his canon animal being the shark except to attach it vaguely to this point and think that, as an apex predator of the sea, it does things at its own pace (somehow, it gives me the image that he likes to bite... but, uh, that’s probably just me LOL).

Keywords: Mercurial. Lightning. Sarcasm. Physical.

#love and producer #mlqc #mr love queen's choice #mlqc gavin #mlqc victor #mlqc lucien #mlqc kiro #mlqc bai qi #mlqc li zeyan #mlqc xu mo #mlqc zhou qiluo #love and produc(ing) meta

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varsitycult · 3 years

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Shapeshifting: Solaris and True Alienation

In Stanislaw Lem’s 1961 novel of the same name, Solaris is an alien planet that “materializes physical simulacra”— any members aboard the space station slowly circling the planet will begin to have interactions with figures from their pasts, those figures that left the greatest impact on their psyches. The ocean itself manifests many forms that fall under different categorization, such as mimoids, symmetriads, etc., which arise mostly as singular architectural feats and ever-evolving foamy, stretchy-then-solid, growing-and-shrinking structures that can be many miles in dimension; those that study these phenomena are called solaricists. The study of Solaris developed from a more esoteric theorization of what the ocean actually “is”:

“For some time one popular view, eagerly disseminated by the press, was that the thinking ocean covering the whole of Solaris was a gigantic brain more advanced by millions of years than our own civilization, that it was some kind of “cosmic yogi,” a sage, omniscience incarnate, which had long ago grasped the futility of all action and for this reason was simply maintaining a categorical silence towards us.” (Lem)

This evolved into a decidedly scientific investigation of how Solaris ‘works,’but no matter how many studies were done and how much a desire for First Contact might’ve been present aboard, the ocean didn't attempt to reveal anything about itself — to the crew, it seemingly only sought to essentially conduct psychological experiments on them by creating “empty” doppelgängers of critical figures from their pasts who cannot die.

The book centers around Kris Kelvin, an at times neurotic, at times deeply detached psychologist. In his youth, he knew and was in a relationship with a young woman named Harey, who ultimately ended up killing herself after Kris ended their relationship and implied she was weak. Once Kris begins seeing, speaking and interacting with the simulacra of Harey, he questions his own sanity, and conducts experiments to prove to himself that he is sane — and when in the lab, realizes the other crew members have done the same. We never learn the details of the other crews simulacras beyond an interaction in the beginning of Kris’ stay, and fleeting glimpses of identifiers — but it is implied that they’re haunting enough to drive the crew to madness and suicide, such as in the case of Gibarian, a former professor of Kris’ and fellow crew member who committed suicide right before Kris arrived on the station.

Harey is Kris’ appointed simulacra, or shapeshifter, if you will. What is a shapeshifter? Basically an entity with the ability to change into a different shape or form; It can be the act of a human turning into an animal (commonly seen in creatures such as werewolves, vampires and the like); an animal shapeshifting into a person; a person into a plant or object; and on, including gods turning into clouds, gods turning other gods into any myriad of animals or objects, etc. Shapeshifting is key in shamanic practice and totemism, and entails transformation into a different f o r m, precipitated by an altered state of consciousness within the shaman, aided by substances, rhythmic driving, and the like:

“[S]hamanism and hypnosis … use … the same dissociative state of consciousness, which in shamanism is referred to as the shamanic journey, or ecstatic flight, and in hypnosis is called the hypnotic trance, or simply trance. Neurophysiological and empirical evidence support the view that the shamanic journey achieved without the use of hallucinogenic substances, that is, with the aid of musical instrumentation, chanting, and similar phenomena, elicits the same EEG profile as the hypnotic trance state. In addition, experiential phenomena characteristic of the shaman’s ecstatic flight, such as shapeshifting, contact with imaginal agents, and the like, can likewise be achieved in hypnotic trance” (Walter).

  For this entry, shapeshifting is one conscious entity shifting into another entity who is, by necessity, conscious to some degree. We find shapeshifters from stories that span the world and millennia — such as the character of Merlin from Arthurian Legend:

“In the Arthurian cycle, the wizard Merlin enchanted Uther Pendragon, making him look like the husband of Igraine so that she would gladly sleep with him. Merlin knew through augury that this mating would conceive the child who would later become King Arthur. One tool for accomplishing such shapeshifting was the spell known as fith-fath, used to transform one object into another and also to confer invisibility.” (472, Walter)

(I just really enjoy the word fith-fath)

In the Cherokee tradition, there’s the story of the “Stone Coat,” a monster covered with scaly armor from head to toe who could take human form; Stone Coat ate the livers of his victims while in the shape of an old woman, after puncturing their skulls with a crooked finger (136, Young). Stone Coat took the form of an orphan, who then ate other children’s livers, and was subsequently banned from town. Knowing Stone Coat is approaching, 7 menstruating women lay along the path in wait — he vomits blood crossing them, and, knowing he is dying, asks the people to build a fire and burn him. As he burned, he sang songs, songs that eventually became traditional Cherokee songs; “His death, he said, would unleash disease in the world, but the songs he taught them would cure it.”

In the case of Old Norse, with regards to Berserkers, shapeshifting more closely approximates a shared state of consciousness generated among animal cultists, leading to murder and rape under the influence of rage:

“It is proposed by some authors that the berserkers drew their power from the bear and were devoted to the bear cult, which was once widespread across the northern hemisphere … To "go berserk" was to "hamask", which translates as "change form", in this case, as with the sense "enter a state of wild fury.”

In Asia, the kitsune (🇯🇵), huli jing (🇨🇳), or kumiho (🇰🇷) are mythical foxes with 9 tails, that are at least 1,000-years old and have attained the boon of shapeshifting. These creatures are known for turning into young women who eat the hearts or livers of young men. In Korea, the kumiho is always malignant, while the Japanese and Chinese variants are morally ambiguous. Across cultures, if a kitsune can last 1,000 days without killing or eating a human, they can become fully human.

There are myriad reasons why Solaris is a unique shapeshifter experience, considering shapeshifting so often relies on either mythical entities with mythical powers, or altered states. With Solaris, we have an “entity” who can never be perceived directly, and we never learn how Solaris does what it does — Lem intentionally chose an ocean as to avoid personification and thus satisfaction of “First Contact.” Solaris creates an experience of True Alienation — because Solaris can “[see] into the deepest recesses of human minds and then [bring] their dreams to life,” but the observer knows that wish-fulfillment is impossible, making the experience of Solaris a deeply disturbing one which highlights the limits of our physical systems and of our human comprehension.

We never come to understand the intent of the manifestations that haunt the crew observing Solaris, though later in the book, Kris ventures out onto the planet itself for the first time ever, after Harey has finally died indefinitely of her own accord; This experience changes his perception of the planet itself, realizing it is actually slightly timid, if not a bit naive, observing and reacting to new information, interacting momentarily with Kris’ hand. In the absence of understanding, there was forgiveness of the planet itself, and the psychological torment endured by Kris and the simulacras.

Often, whether in literature about shamanic rituals or on galaxy-🧠 backwater forums, you will find discussion of shapeshifting paired with possession. Shapeshifting and possession are parallel phenomena, though possession is internal. Harey is both real and not real simultaneously; Harey knows she is and knows she isn’t; and Harey can never be far away from Kris, at least in the beginning. If Kris is not visible to Harey, she will enter a fugue state until she is reunited with Kris again, at times causing herself fatal physical harm to remove obstacles to him — this possession “reveals” Harey to truly be Solaris itself, her body receiving a hard reset via near-death experiences.

In the beginning of the novel, Harey has a truly amnesiac response to notions of “the past” — she quickly creates an excuse for her behavior or her origins whenever she materializes on the station. As time goes on, Harey noticeably becomes perturbed by her inability to know herself and comes to realize that she is not “Harey”at all. As opposed to following the natural progression of a developing consciousness, arguably going from tabula rasa “nothing” to “something,” Harey goes from believing she is “something” to knowing she is “nothing,” a figment created by the parsed memories of another living being, in a way mirroring terrestrial Harey’s timeline.

Solaris functions as the embodiment of what Rudolf Otto called the Mysterium Tremendum et Fascinans; the numinous, the unknown. Under electron microscope examination, blood samples from simulacras are devoid of electrons, instead being composed of neutrinos, and a specialized machine is ultimately needed to kill Harey at the end of the book because of this. Nothing like Solaris has ever been seen before, let alone conceived of by human minds, and when 106 members of the space station die in one freak accident while exploring a spontaneous formation on Solaris long before Kris ever arrives, humans subject it to nukes in “retaliation”. Humans had a stronger desire to destroy the unknown than to allow the unknown to exist at all. But Solaris was seemingly unscathed, and afterwards, public interest in Solaris waned, and the simulacras began to appear onboard the station.

What makes the unknown of Solaris more exaggerated is its observation, even experimentation, on the crew. It is always learning about You — You cannot learn about It. And we can never know if it is learning from its experimenting, if its experimenting is leading to something, some conclusion, at all. It becomes a true black mirror, reflecting back at the crew that which has psychically harmed or affected them the most to try to understand that hurt, because hurt sticks the most :’ ).

Very often in shapeshifter stories, the concluding action is to kill the shapeshifter because it is deemed malevolent. Shapeshifting is obscure, it is dark, and it is unknowable except to those shapeshifters with access to it. Shapeshifting physicalizes the Shadow, and conceptualizes the existential chicken-and-egg of knowing decay, death and rebirth are inevitable, just maybe not in the ways we’d hoped — bask in the Shadow and temper the compulsion to kill the darkness.

Bibliography:

Lem, Stanisław. “Solaris,” Walker, 1964.

Walter, Mariko, and Eva Jane Neumann. “Shamanism: An Encyclopedia of World Beliefs, Practices, and Culture,” ABC-CLIO, 2004.

Young, William A. “Quest for Harmony: Native American Spiritual Traditions,” Hackett Pub. Co., 2006.

& Wikipedia lul

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notleriff · 4 years

Text

Phoenix

I wish you the best of luck, Takeda. And I hope one day you will join us and return home. Just remember, our people rose from the ashes--you’re allowed to do the same.

“Fight me!”

“Perhaps another time, Dotharl.” Leriff chuckled softly as he wiped the sweat from his brow. He attempted to climb up the rubble in front of him, but could not find a good handhold to start his ascent. “Ahh--up, please.”

With large, looming steps, Ardki stepped forward. He locked his fingers together and held his hands out as a platform to give his fellow hunter a boost. “After! You can even have my pay if you win!”

With only a smile and a shake of his head in response, Leriff placed his boot into Ardki’s outstretched hands and let the larger Au Ra lift him high enough to grab a crumbling beam. He climbed along it sideways until he found his way higher, finally making it over the rubble. “All clear, here.” The hunter leaned forward to look into the ruined room on the other side of the rubble, confirming that there were no beasts laying in wait within.

The two had arrived at dawn with a team of relic seekers. Less than a moon past, the sands of the Sagolii had blown in the wind, shifting to reveal another of the tombs of some long forgotten people buried beneath. The group was excavating the ruins to find anything of historical note to bring back to the city to clean and catalogue. Ardki and Leriff had been hired to keep the archaeologists safe from any beasts that would have turned up at either the shifting of the sands or that lay buried within, as the first team dispatched had fled some manner of monsters a fortnight prior.

Leriff waved off Ardki’s assistance in his descent and dropped back to the floor with a thud. He dusted his tabard off before setting his hand on his hip with a huff. “It is safe enough for them to venture this way, but we should check the few passages around here before the sun sets. Which side do you want?”

After a cursory inspection of the few paths from the courtyard, Ardki pointed down one to the west. The mostly intact terrain better suited his large, hulking figure, and it would require less acrobatics, something he was not very keen on. Leriff nodded in agreement and headed north, dropping to his stomach to crawl under a collapsed pillar before disappearing from sight.

What windows that existed in the passage were sparse, and it grew too dark with the setting sun for the man to see clearly. He frowned before digging into the bag on his belt. Producing a cloth, and searching the nearby area for something to tie it to, Leriff manufactured a torch. He held it out, nestled against the pit of his arm. He lifted his right hand and brought it down against the handle of the gunblade sheathed on his back. The ring around his finger was made of a fire crystal infused flint, and as it struck the steel of the weapon, it ignited, catching the cloth he had wrapped around his glove on fire. Using that flame, the man lit the torch before very quickly putting the fire on his hand out to avoid any burns.

Leriff grumbled to himself as he wound his way around the maze-like passages. The patron of their operation was a lalafell of some wealth in the city, but seemed rather ill-informed of the operations this far into the desert. When the hunter had asked him what manner of creature the previous team had encountered, their patron had been flippant, if not outright dismissive, and had only given brief answers. It was not uncommon for those in power to not bother themselves with the details, but beyond the minor dune worms the two had cleared out, Leriff had found nothing to warrant calling off an entire digging operation.

Even if the windows in the ruin were sparse, and the few that existed covered by debris and sand, Leriff could still hear the warm blasts of wind outside. He hummed in thought to himself as he pressed deeper, using the whistle of air as a sort of tempo counter to his steps. Some few yalms away, however, he stopped, ceasing his humming as realization dawned upon him.

Too steady. Too rhythmic. Too short.

He began to creep forward, holding the torch low in case he needed to quickly smother it to avoid detection. Leriff had only the intent to confirm his suspicions. Dune worms did not breathe in such a manner, and whatever it was was large enough that the closer he drew to the source of the sound, the more the very rubble shook with each heavy breath. Without warning, the breathing stopped. In its place, a low rumble began. Just beyond the edge of the light his torch cast, a massive eye opened, sending a jolt of fear down Leriff’s spine. A gigantic muscular arm rose from the sand, and the creature began to pull itself free from its slumber. The rumbling grew into a growl as it crept closer to a roar.

Panic set in as Leriff took a step back, but before he could flee in terror, he dropped the torch. He put himself in darkness in hopes the creature could not see through shadow, and had sense enough to dart down the closest narrow passage. It was not much help, as with two deadly horns and powerful grip, the creature ripped through whatever ruin lay in his way to crush the puny creature that would dare disturb his domain.

Leriff had no knowledge on how to fight this beast. Few, if any, did. His mind raced and he struggled to make sense of it. He could not think of how one ended so far away from the mountains, or how it survived buried beneath the sea of sand above; but, in all honesty, the how of it mattered little.

“Leriff? Did the tunnel collapse? Are you okay?” Ardki called down the passages at the sound of the quaking earth. “Ahh, there you ar--”

“Run!” Leriff was sprinting towards the large man, pillars collapsing behind him. At the look of confusion on Ardki’s face, and the lack of turning and fleeing, Leriff ran straight into him. He wrapped his hands around the Au Ra’s arm and yanked as hard as he could, nearly dislocating his shoulder, in order to get him to start moving. “RUN!” He screamed, dragging the large man behind him.

From the passage just behind where the hunter had fled from, large purple digits wrapped around the frame of the sandstone door and pulled it, crumbling the wall as a great behemoth followed close behind.

Ardki no longer needed the guidance of the Doman, having broken free of Leriff’s grasp to double time all on his own. The two tore past the encampment at the entrance of the ruins as the relic seekers were already frantically packing to escape whatever was creating such a racket just inside. When the head of the behemoth peeked out from behind the wall the two hunters had just fled from, those in the camp no longer cared about their personal effects, simply dropping everything to flee in a panic.

The creature burst into the ampitheatre the crew had been using as a base of operations, its stark white eyes expressing its rage of the fleas that had infested its home long before the roar that split the sky did. Through a process of elimination, random chance or sheer bad luck, it settled its seething frustration onto the first target it saw and charged directly at the foreman of the group, who, at the sight of the barreling violet barrel of violence, froze in place and soiled himself.

There was not time to think. To consider how terrible an idea it was, or of those left at home, or how pointless the endeavor would be. His body moved first, before his brain caught up with his hands. Leriff had skidded to a halt and turned on his heel, his hand reaching up to the handle of the weapon on his back. In the time it took for him to realize he had unhooked the gunblade from his back, he had already closed the gap between himself and the foreman. With no ability to back down any longer, he leapt into the air, twirled to gain momentum and slammed the gunblade directly into the behemoth’s eye.

Striking against the behemoth’s head was like jumping chest first into a stone brick wall. Leriff let out a horrible wheeze as all of the air in his lungs was scattered. He tumbled off the behemoth and landed on his back, trying desperately to gulp down greedy breaths to find the strength in order to push himself to his feet. He crawled a few ilms as the behemoth thrashed about in rage and agony behind him before making it to his hands and knees, and eventually his feet. The hunter staggered in a daze towards Ardki.

The great Dotharl had managed his axe free on his way to his companion, holding the large weapon in one hand. As all in the room were, he too had not slowed from his full sprint. If he could reach Leriff in time, he could help him free, help them all escape. Ardki could not abandon Leriff, and show his cowardice, after the Doman had just risked himself for another. All he needed do was reach the man in time. Steps more. Yalms. Ilms.

Ardki threw himself into Leriff’s chest, pushing him back onto the ground. Leriff fell backwards, once more finding it difficult to breathe as he landed flat on his back. Above him, in one moment, Ardki looked down on the hunter and in the next, the Dotharl was gone. He had been moved, with rather vicious force, to the wall, gored on the end of one of the behemoth’s horns. The behemoth dragged the au ra across the wall, the horn leaving such a gaping wound that within seconds it had separated the man’s torso from his legs.

Leriff crawled, hand over hand, until he was back onto his feet. He collected Ardki’s axe, and though he struggled to wield it with such ferocity as the Dotharl surely would have, he focused all of his might into his arms. He shouted to draw the attention of the behemoth away from Ardki, and when the creature turned towards him, dropping Ardki from the wall, Leriff brought the axe across with all his might, cracking the shaft of it as he struck one of the beast’s arms, but managing to share that same damage to the behemoth itself. Taking no time to relish in his victory, and using the behemoth’s stumble and pain to his advantage, Leriff grabbed what was left of Ardki from the ground and ran with him out of sight.

He gently set the au ra against a pillar and stepped back with shaking hands, trying to rack his brain for anything he could do to help his co-hunter. At best, Leriff could patch cuts, bruises, maybe a broken limb or two. Ardki had been eviscerated, his lower half severed in the most unclean of ways. Blood spilled freely, soaking both hunters as Leriff tried fruitlessly to bind the man up.

“I am Dotharl!” Ardki weakly lifted his arm, flailing it to try to find Leriff. Leriff took his hand and placed it on his own shoulder in an attempt to bring comfort. “I laugh at death!” The au ra blankly stared into the distance as color faded from his face. “But it hurts… And I’m afr--” Whatever final words Ardki had ended there, as he slumped to the side, drawing breath no more.

The screams from beyond the walls was all the indication Leriff needed to know the carnage had not stopped. Before he stood, he removed the bag slung over Ardki’s shoulder, the leather stuffed to the brim with a tool to help the large man get through the crumbled debris of the sandswept ruins. Leriff pulled the strap over his head and rose to his feet before hurrying back into the main amphitheatre.

Blood soaked the floor, workers and mercenaries aliked cowered beneath and behind the crumbled walls and fallen pillars of the ruins as the half-blinded behemoth thrashed about in a wild fury to smash, impale and consume any living creature in the vicinity. Leriff took a single breath--a deep, cleansing one--to steady himself. For the first time since the sight of violence incarnate had filled his vision, he pushed the panic down. He held the air inside his lungs as his fear dissipated and then let it out slowly, in a single word. “Flow.”

Like a lightning strike, he was in motion. He did not give the behemoth time to turn and face him this time. Instead, he planted his foot on one of the fallen pillars left behind in the creature’s destructive wake and leapt from it. With no weapon, Leriff fell to the last one he had left, and perhaps the one he found the most familiarity with. He lifted his hand back and focused, relaxing his muscles--opening every little gate inside his body that would block the flow of power within. He clenched his fist and collided with the behemoth, smashing the creature square on the side of its head. The beast staggered backwards at the impact, and Leriff landed back onto the ground, rolling along the sand to find his way back to his feet.

His left arm hung limp at his side. He had focused what strength he could muster into his arm, and brought all that strength to bear against the behemoth. When the blow had connected with the near steel-proof hide of the beast, the aether he had summoned needed go somewhere. And, since he could not pierce the behemoth’s hide with the power, somewhere it went. Out. In every direction it could. Muscles burst and bones broke as it vacated his arm, and now it hung useless. He choked the pain back. There would be time for pain later. Or there would not be, and he would be dead. Either way, now it could not be a distraction.

Man and beast stared at one another in a showdown, but it was Leriff who made the first move. There was no time for bravado. If he continued to break himself on the creature’s back, he would surely die. He had to kill the behemoth now. He moved like crashing water around the hulking arms, spinning, stopping and starting again to avoid being crushed beneath one of the behemoth’s fists. When he found his opening, he ran for it.

He ran, until he stumbled. Skill played its part in keeping him safe, but it did not matter how fast or how skilled Leriff was. He was tired. And eventually, he would lose. In the split second it took for the man to put his plan into action, in the single mistake the lapse of attention brought, Leriff had moved in a direction he could not dodge away from. The fist came down, straight into the sand, and caught the entirety of the man’s right leg. It crumbled like paper. This was not pain he could push down, and the hunter screamed in agony, his body slinging back in response.

The behemoth pushed its head down, and as easily as a bull charges a cape, it speared Leriff directly through the stomach on one of its massive horns, lifting the broken hunter off the ground. Finally, having brought the man to its level, it met the hunter eye to eye, unbridled fury seething out.

Leriff choked on blood as he slumped onto the horn, using his one good arm to try in vain to push his body back off. When he could not muster the strength, he fell forward, trying to at least slow the pain until he died. His arms dangled off the sides and hung limply. Click. Leriff slowly lifted his palm and let it drop again. Click. His eyes shot open and as life drained from him through the hole in his stomach, he let his head fall to the side to look just below. His salvation lay still stuck in the behemoth’s eye. Click. Leriff weakly brought his hand up and down. Click. The ring struck the metal of the gunblade once more. “Do not fear it.” CRACK.

A piece of the infused flint chipped off, and Leriff’s hand went up in flames. He stuck his burning hand into the bag that hung from his shoulder until he found it--the fuse. With the linen lit, and the urge to survive taking hold, Leriff pulled the bag from his shoulder and threw it into the behemoth’s face, sending some of the balls of packed explosive falling out as it flew through the air. He curled his burning fist up and screamed out every drop of air in his lungs as he brought it down onto the horn. He would either die now, or later when he could not muster the strength to take one more step. He chose later. With all of his might, and all the life left in his body, he brought his power down onto the protruding horn. It cracked, broke and dropped the hunter with half of it still stuck within him. The behemoth’s roar was cut short as the explosion ripped its head apart, the shockwave of it crumbling the ruins about on top of it. For his effort, the explosion threw Leriff like a sack, straight back into a pillar where he cracked the back of his head. He dropped to the ground without further fight, and the world went black.

***

It was two full moons before he could enter the office. The workers had dug the corpse out from beneath the ruins the moment the dust had settled, but when one heard the heartbeat, they had dropped everything to abandon the desert and bring him home. Constant care as the suns passed was all that kept him from death. Conjurers, companions, doctors, chirurgeons, and every single person the man had earned favors with in his work had come forth, and only through the constant vigil of those around him did he find himself in the office today.

Jajarilu sat on his stool behind his desk, watching in contempt as his employees helped the monster hunter into the room. Leriff looked like a holiday decoration, so wrapped in bandages. He struggled to stand, and only managed to move thanks to the wooden crutch he had propped into the pit of his arm. The lalafell only spoke once Leriff had situated himself, standing at the other end of his massive desk. “I am glad to see you well! You have come for payme--”

“You knew.” The look Leriff gave the patron of the excavation work was not all too different from that which he gave the behemoth that nearly took his life. “Your foreman told me, already. You knew it was there.”

Jajarilu’s hesitation lasted for but a moment. One did not reach such a level of wealth if they found themselves thrown off by every interruption. He coughed once to command the attention once more before jumping to his feet. “I did. It was a risk, but the work we have done now that--” He stopped as he saw the hunter’s expression. “It doesn’t matter.” He walked briefly around the desk until he reached a set of stairs, the small ladder bringing him to stand atop his workspace. He walked over the desk, arms swinging at his sides, until he could place himself in front of his hunter, and with a big smile, produced a bulging pouch of coins. “Here. A bonus! To our continued success together!” He dropped the pouch into Leriff’s hand as the Doman looked at it with a dumbfounded expression. “Now, if you don’t--”

Leriff smashed his head into Jajarilu’s, sending the lalafell tumbling down off his desk and onto the floor. The hunter then lifted his crutch and pinned the businessman to the floor by the throat, placing a dangerous amount of weight onto the wooden support. It would not be difficult, even weakened, to end the man’s life. All he needed do was push down a touch harder. His eyes shifted to offer his attention to those around the room, some pensively ready to heed the need for aid of their employer. He would not be able to get away, afterwards. He was too weak. Leriff glared down at the small man as Jajarilu pathetically flailed in an attempt to push the crutch off his neck. “Do not contact me again.”

None of the workers attempted to stop Leriff. They felt he had earned at least that much. He released Jajarilu and stumbled to the door, fumbling it open with one hand before leaving the office for good. After making it to the street, and out the gate beyond, Leriff made his way to one of the myriad of refugees still located in Stonesthrow. He dropped the pouch of coin at the man’s foot to a look of confusion.

“Sir..?”

“I do not want it.” Leriff gripped his crutch tightly and slowly made his way back home.

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kimtanathegeek · 4 years

Text

Two Brothers, Many Paths - Ch 27

It’s about time these poor boys had some normalcy, eh?

Thanks for reading! :)

—

Undertale copyright Toby Fox

Story and original characters by me, Kimtana

Please do not use without both permission and credit.

Read below, or read it on AO3 here.

First

Over the next several weeks, life for the two brothers fell into a normalcy that they hadn’t had since they left their home to flee to Mt. Ebott. They were able to shift from merely surviving day to day to simply living their lives.

They woke up each morning to prepare a healthy, hearty breakfast together, performed their daily workout routine, and did a few chores before setting out for the day. On some days they would go to the corner of the valley to train their bone magic. On others, they would explore—no longer did they need to forage, thanks to the ample supply of fresh food in their pantry.

During their explorations, they ventured to new places they had never had the chance to see since their foraging trips had limited them to the torch-lit path. Making sure not to be seen by those behind the ever-closed cavern doors, they investigated more of the snowy valley.

Sans found that the long, grey strip that he had seen from the cavern tunnel entrance so long ago was actually a thin river that ran through the valley. On the cavern’s side, the river snaked behind the cavern’s outer wall, beyond where they could walk as the rocky walls were too difficult and dangerous to climb. The other end of the river ran through the darkened area, fed by many of the numerous waterfalls and waterways. Yet they could not see where the river ended—it appeared to run on forever.

They made a bridge over the river using white bones and ventured further into the left side of the gigantic snow valley cavern over the course of many days—Sans’ teleportation being most helpful to return them to places they had left off, saving them the need to camp overnight or walk endlessly for hours to reach where they’d already been. Far from the cavern and their shelter, the valley’s left edge was a jagged cliff line, below which lay yet another valley—just as snowy, and just as vast. Sans gulped as he looked over the sheer, miles-high drop, refusing to let Papyrus get too near.

What the snowy valley lacked in its openness, the darkened area made up for in its labyrinthian pathways, countless bodies of water, and mysterious atmosphere. While the two skeletons preferred the chilly winds of the valley to the heavy, thick humidity of the darkened area, the watery location made for extremely interesting exploring.

Anytime they came to the darkened area, Sans made sure to fill up his bag with lucent gems to sell to the jeweler and mouseshroom nightlights, keeping a few for him and his brother and donating the rest to the charity workers managing food collection for the hungry. The monsters’ eyes lit up as much as the mushrooms did when they saw Sans empty his stuffed haversack of mushrooms into their donation crates the first time.

Aside from the gems and mushrooms, Sans also regularly collected reeds. He had started weaving coiled baskets during his spare time now that he had sturdy, thick thread and a tapestry needle. The baskets helped organize the pantry shelf better, and Papyrus adored the one Sans made special for him to store his tiny white bones when he wasn’t playing with them.

In addition to the reeds, they came across some parts of the darkened area that had cattails, which made Sans extremely happy, and amused Papyrus to no end.

“Wata sausage!” he had cried out gleefully when they discovered them.

Sans couldn’t help but grin at the mention of their nickname, recalling how he and his brother used to play with the cattails his mother would bring home from the lake. The brown flowers looked just like the pea sausages their mother would cook up, but tasted much more...fluffy.

Sans collected as many of the cattails as he could, not just for how great the stalks tasted in their salad, but he was collecting the brown flowers for their fluff. He had made a basket to store them in, and couldn’t wait until he had enough to make a proper set of pillows for him and his brother to sleep on, instead of the filled-up haversack they had been using for months. It would take a lot of cattails, but the darkened area was proving to provide a steady supply.

On training days, Sans would transport them to the valley corner, and they would continue improving their bone magic.

Papyrus had gotten much better with his ground attacks, and was rapidly refining his ability to create useful structures with his white bones, like platforms and stairs on the rocky walls, and beds of bones, which were almost to the point of all the bones coming up to the same height.

Sans had been trying to perfect his attack power—he was far better at rapid-fire attacks than a single strong attack. He was also attempting to learn free-hand blue bones, but, as always, it wasn’t easy for him to learn since no one was able to tell him how. However, as part of his training, he was learning to be more patient with himself, and to celebrate his successes instead of focusing on his failures, much to the joy of Papyrus.

Both skeletons also strove to become more disciplined in their training—making set amounts of targets to hit, repeating certain attack exercises over and over, and, especially for Sans, making sure that calm and focus replaced any anger or frustration. Anytime he felt the rage or aggravation rising up within him, he stopped what he was doing and took ten deep breaths, counting each one out loud—something his parents made him do when he had tantrums when he was younger—and he found that his damaging emotions left him with each exhale.

Once a week, Sans would go to the purple cavern to get food and supplies. He would teleport to the place where the masonry work area and the first brick building of the row met, since the pathway was always vacant.

He would first wind his way through the roads to reach the domed building on the opposite side of the city, which was the city’s community center. Monsters came not only to seek help with food, clothing, or items, but also to volunteer and donate. Job postings were available for anyone looking for work, such as in the many work areas throughout the city, services needed within the king and queen’s multiple projects to strengthen the city and morale, and even enlistment opportunities in the Royal Guard, as most of the soldiers had been lost in the human’s final push.

Sans would bring their inedible scraps to place in the community compost bin to be used for the crops that grew within the cavern. The bin was a small, four-wheeled, wooden cart parked just outside the domed building. It was lined with a thick, waterproof tarp, and—Sans was told—would take the compost to the large compost pile elsewhere in the city.

Sans was more than happy to give their food scraps to a good cause. He had been burying his food waste in a hole he had dug in the snow a few paces from their shelter—covered with bones and snow—since their first day. He emptied the frozen contents into the empty paper bags—which he had saved after finishing their granola and oats—and sealed the hole up for good. He then kept a small paper bag in the pantry corner on a little row of bones—to keep off the snow—next to the wood pile for banana peels, nut shells, apple cores, rotting reed stalks, and other inedible food and plant scraps.

He would then go inside the domed building, unloading his haversack filled with mouseshroom nightlights in the food donation crates as the charity workers thanked him profusely for his weekly kindness. Deep down, he knew it wasn’t much, considering the thousands of monsters who had been displaced by the war, many of whom were orphaned, injured, and without a way to support themselves. But he also knew that he was contributing food to those who might have gone without, recalling his and his brother’s joy when they discovered the mushrooms after so many nights of painful hunger.

After dropping off his donations, he would shoulder his emptied haversack and make his way to the market, visiting the jeweler first. He sold the gems he had found that week to the extremely grateful sapphire monster, and as she counted out his gold, he smiled as he saw necklaces, rings, fibulae, and more fitted with the cut-down lucent gems, glowing on their display racks throughout the shop.

Once he left the jeweler, Sans would do his shopping. He wouldn’t purchase nearly as much as he had the first time he came, needing only to replenish their pantry of items they were low on or out of. In addition to that, he would always get a bottle of milk, some cheese, loaves of bread, baby spinach, and bananas, as he only purchased enough of these to last a week so that they didn’t go bad or stale.

He rarely found a need to visit the non-food shops, as he had gotten most of what he needed on his first visit. He also wanted to limit the number of items they owned to the absolutely necessary in case they ever had to flee the shelter. Usually these market trips were dedicated for food shopping.

However, every week he ended his trip by visiting Ashen’s shop. He always made a point to purchase something from her, since she had mentioned that she used the gold to help others, and Sans thought that was an extremely kind thing to do. But mostly, he came to say hello and spend time with her. They chatted about their week, Ashen would show Sans her current knitting project, and Sans would tell her about his own crafting projects. On his third week in the cavern, he had given her a small reed basket that he had made for her.

“It’s for your knitting,” he said, shyly. “To store your yarn, needles, and stuff.”

She hugged him, giving a shudder that ruffled her grey feathers. “Thank you, Sans! I love it! That was so sweet of you to make this for me!”

She admired the basket the little skeleton had made for her. It was carefully woven, with strong, white thread stitching the coils of reeds together, and on both sides, where the braided handle met the basket, was a small yellow ribbon bow—he had found the ribbon while foraging on the torch-lit trail near the cavern ages ago—with a miniscule white bone tucked firmly in the center knot.

“Oh, my,” she gasped. “These bows are beautiful.... And yellow is my favorite color, too.”

“I thought so,” Sans grinned. “You were wearing a yellow dress the first day we met, and your knitting needles are yellow. So I used a yellow ribbon.”

Ashen hugged Sans once again, hiding her tears from him. She couldn’t bear to tell him that the reason she loved yellow so much was because it reminded her of her precious children’s feathers. She wiped her eyes on her wings without him noticing.

“Thank you for the thoughtful gift,” she said, smiling warmly at him with dried eyes.

“You’re welcome,” he grinned happily.

“Oh!” she exclaimed as she brought her new basket around the corner to put her knitting in. “I saw the toymaker who makes the teddy bears, and told him about how one of my customers was able to replace a teddy bear lost in the evacuation for his little brother—I didn’t mention your name or anything—and he was so happy! He made them on the surface for decades—that’s probably how your brother got his first bear—and wanted to keep making them down here to cheer children up. He was very pleased to hear that you were able to replace your brother’s lost teddy.”

“Aw, that’s great,” Sans smiled. “Yeah, I told my brother his bear was in here looking for him and he was so happy! He’s slept with him every night since.”

“I’m so glad to hear that,” Ashen sighed happily as she shuddered, her feathers rippling. “Poor little thing, has his teddy back.”

Sans purchased a blue dish towel that day to use instead of the scraps of rough cloth he had been using, and Ashen thanked him again for her beautiful basket.

Although Sans kept his hood up and his trips to the cavern brief, he never stopped looking for his father in the crowds. There were multiple times he thought he spotted him, but, every time, it turned out to be some other monster. Sans always brought a small blue bone, etched with his and his brother’s names on it, and when he visited the purple cavern, he would leave a bone down an empty alleyway for someone to find, hoping beyond hope that it would make it back to their father.

Sans would return home, spend the remainder of the day working on baskets or another craft project, then gave math, reading, and writing lessons to Papyrus before they started preparing dinner. After a delicious meal, Papyrus would have his lesson test, then the two brothers would play together until bedtime. Papyrus would snuggle up with Teddy as Sans told bedtime stories until the little skeleton started nodding off, then they settled down, tucked themselves in, and went to sleep.

The days turned to weeks quickly for the little skeletons—days filled with good food, adventure, learning, laughter, and productiveness. But most of all, the days were filled with normalcy. Peaceful, comforting normalcy.

“Ooh,” Sans breathed as they rounded the corner of yet another winding path through the darkened area. “There’s a lot of cattails here.”

“Ooh,” Papyrus chimed. “Glowey stones!”

The little area was at the base of a few small waterfalls. The cascades fed a large pool of water that split off into four waterways flowing in different directions. One of the waterways from the pool ran along their left, flowing back the way they had just come.

Two of the waterways flowed from the large pool straight towards the edge on their right, cascading off to form two more waterfalls. Sans chanced a peek over the side and gulped as he looked into the black void. He pulled back, keeping Papyrus far away from the edge. The two waterways cut through the path, just narrow enough for the two skeletons to clear in a running jump.

The last waterway ran forward around a snaking path out of their sight, probably feeding yet another body of water. Sans felt as though every body of water was somehow connected, the same water flowing through every portion of the darkened area. It was mesmerizing.

On either end, where the waterways left the area and the currents were much calmer, the cattails grew in clusters. Speckled on the walls and floor were blue and pink gems, their lights reflecting in the waters like shimmering splinters, and were the area’s only source of illumination.

“Pap, I’m going to go over there to get those cattails,” Sans said, gesturing to the clusters near where they entered. “Want to start collecting those gems? If your bag fills up before I’m done, just pile them up for me, and I’ll put them in my bag later.”

“Okay!” Papyrus smiled, happy to help. He had many gems to play with at home that he, personally and proudly, had found on their first few trips to the darkened area. He had plenty, so he started giving the ones he gathered to Sans to sell to the jeweler, which Sans thought was extremely generous of him to do. Papyrus was ecstatic to be able to help his brother get more food and supplies for them both, so he treasured being able to contribute.

Sans took a running leap back over the waterway and headed over to the start of the cattail clusters. Papyrus remained in the portion of the path sandwiched between the two waterways, which was littered with gems.

Sans took off his haversack, jacket, and shoes, then rolled up his pant legs and dipped his foot in. A chill went up his spine as he squeaked at the coldness of the water on his foot. He took a couple steps in the soft mud, and then there was nothing under his foot. He went from ankle-deep water to sinking to the bottom, chest-deep in water, in the course of a single step. He gasped sharply from the jolt of the sudden drop and the icy cold water chilling him to the bone. The mud was extremely squishy and slippery, and his light, skeletal body wanted to float. He had to dig his feet into the mud to keep himself anchored and walking straight.

“P-Pap,” he stammered, teeth chattering. “St-stay away fr-from th-the water. I-it’s too deep.”

“Okay,” his brother answered, crouched over a smattering of glowing gems, stuffing them into his little bag.

Sans waded over to the cattails and created a sharp blue bone knife. He took a deep breath and plunged down underwater, cutting the cattails off at the base of their shoots. He cut and gathered as many as he could until he needed air, then broke the surface to catch his breath and check on his brother. Then he dipped back down, cutting and gathering more.

Papyrus was having a great deal of fun finding gems. His bag was already filled up, and he had started a small pile at the edge of the path near the large pool. He laid his stuffed bag on the ground next to the pile so it didn’t weigh him down as he collected more. He stooped to pick up gems, tucking them in the crook of his arm. When he had too many in his arms to pick up more, he brought the armload over to the pile and carefully placed them down.

As he did this a fourth time, one of the pink gems fell out of his arms, bounced on the ground, and splashed into the large pool. Papyrus whimpered, unloaded his armful on the growing pile of gems, and crept to the water’s edge. He saw the gem, now stuck firmly in the soft bank mud under the water’s surface. The rippling currents made the gem’s location wave and wobble as its light shone up through the mud and water.

Papyrus tried bending over from where he stood on the edge, but the gem was too far. He carefully dipped his foot into the water bank, his shoe sinking into the gooey mud. He bent over, grunting as he struggled to reach the gem that was just out of reach. One more step should do it....

Sans broke the surface, gasping and panting for breath as he clutched the knife and bundle of cattails. He wiped the water from his eyes, blinked, and checked on his brother—watching him step into the pool with its stronger currents. He gasped sharply.

“Pap!” Sans yelled out fearfully. “Get away from the water’s edge! It’s too dangerous!”

Papyrus was bent over as far as he could, his fingers underwater, tickling the edge of the gem trapped in the mud, when he heard his brother shout. It startled him, and the mud beneath his foot gave way, causing him to lose his balance. He fell forward into the water and the current took him down the waterway leading to the edge of the area. He flailed wildly and cried out, the water too deep for his feet to reach the bottom as the current carried his extremely light, skeletal body towards the top of the waterfall.

Sans was in a panic. He dropped everything and hurried to get back on land, but the current kept trying to sweep him in the opposite direction when he pulled his feet out of the mud with each step. Why had he taken everything off him that would have weighed him down?!

Once he pulled himself up out of the water and onto the path, he stumbled with the water-to-land gravity difference as he cried out to his brother shrilly.

“Pap! Hang on!”

Papyrus was crying and choking as his head dipped in an out of the water’s surface, his arms waving madly in his panic. He was inches from the waterfall’s top, and Sans was feet away, scrambling as fast as he could in his heavy, drenched clothing. In the water, he felt like a feather being swept away—now he felt like his body weighed a thousand pounds.

Sans watched in horror as his brother was sent to the edge of the waterfall and thrust out over the cascade, just as he himself reached the waterfall, seconds too late.

“No!!!”

Sans thrust his head over the edge and raised his left hand out to Papyrus. He narrowed his eyes and clenched his teeth as he half-clutched his fingers, grasping at something invisible. As Papyrus fell in midair, screaming in terror, his soul began to glow dark blue. He had plummeted down the waterfall, but he was now slowing, completely unaware in his utter fright.

Sans saw the blue glow and strained every bone in his body to concentrate on pulling his brother up. Papyrus continued falling, his speed continuing to decrease. Sans struggled to get him to rise, not even sure what he was doing with magic he had never been able to cast. Papyrus decelerated, still flailing, coughing, and crying, absolutely terrified.

Sans clenched his hand “around” his brother’s soul so tightly it hurt, and he felt pain run up his arm to his shoulder, which had been taut and strained as he tried desperately to pull his brother up. It was hard to see Papyrus now as the dimness below engulfed him, but Sans could still see his brother’s glowing blue soul.

“C’mon,” Sans grunted through teeth clenched so hard they were near shattering. “C’mon!!!”

Papyrus’ soul flickered from blue to white momentarily, then shone completely white as he fell, no longer in the grasp of Sans’ magic.

“No!!!” Sans cried out at the top of his lungs as he helplessly watched his brother fall, swallowed by the darkness of the void. “Papyrus!!!”

The sound of cascading waters and sweeping currents were all that answered the horror-stricken skeleton, kneeling over the edge that had taken his brother.

#undertale #undertale fanfic #undertale fanfiction #sans #papyrus #sans and papyrus #sans undertale #papyrus undertale #skelebros #babybones #TBMP #TwoBrothersManyPaths #Two Brothers Many Paths

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theguardian6 · 4 years

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Assistance for Isis much better in Persia web 2 . in Europe when compared to inside Syria

theguardian.com

Sustain for Islamic Declare (Isis) among Arabic-speaking social media clients with Belgium, Britain, England and also the US is usually greater than in the militant group’s heartlands involving Syria together with Iraq, a global analysis associated with across 2m Arabic-language online posts has got found.

theguardian.com

In what exactly understood to be the primary arduous mass analysis of the with regard to and about the world’s largest jihadist organisation, Italian teachers found which in a very three-and-a-half month interval getting into in Come july 1st, content posted as a result of Arabic-speaking Europeans with Twitter and additionally Squidoo was more beneficial to be able to Isis compared to content posted within those countries over the frontline in the discord.

In Syria, Isis is dramatically melting away the battle meant for hearts and opinions with more as opposed to 92% of tweets, blog in addition to forum reviews hostile to the militants who have rampaged on the east with the region and western Iraq, confiscating large tracts of territory along with declaring the store of a christian declare.

The jihadist militants are notable for operating a good slick propaganda piece of equipment - managing via the internet distribution for you to systematically evade content manages, piggybacking popular internet conversations and galvanising thousands of global enthusiasts into growing your message.

Their projects look like having a consequence. Outside Syria, assistance for Isis, at all times a tossing amongst online communities, rises substantially. Forty-seven per cent from studied tweets together with posts from Qatar, 35% with Pakistan, 31% from Belgium and additionally almost 24% of posts because of UK and 21% from the YOU ended up classified as being supporting for the jihadist setup compared with just under 20% in Jordan, Saudi Arabia (19. 7%) and Iraq (19. 8%).

Dr Luigi Curini from Suggests from the Blogs, an agency set up simply by teachers from Milan Or even which is pioneering completely new forms of large-scale examination of online feedback, known as message exploration, says the research is actually wonderful evidence for ones proposition that to understand Isis up close is planned to be hostile to your potential customers.

Your team, including statistician Teacher Stefano Iacus, political scientist Andrea Ceron, and translators, found there seems to be moreover an intense battle flaming above Islamic State’s religious legitimacy.

Out from the vastly larger quantity of anti-Isis suggestions in the posts undertook studies, 1 out of some (32. 8%) criticises Isis for destroying Islam in addition to when using the faith as a include to get pursuing strength and other “private” pursuits.

One tweet stored by the organization at 23 September go through: “They are tyrants and have marred Islam. Everyday Isis will make Islam dress in your mask of a barbarous intimate monster. ”

Almost a third (29%) of anti-Isis reports expressed scary or simply outrage towards the group’s thrashing methods as well as a further 17% broadcast fears of the group’s hostility to help spiritual and political freedoms, the research found.

In the meantime, nearly all of the scaled-down global community with Isis proponents - making up just finished 20% of the 2m posts - championed the group designed for defending and “unifying” the global city involving believers and also spreading their trust.

Perhaps counter to help you western targets, solely 8. 3% associated with pro-Isis posts had been supportive of the crew for being an opposing forces of the western side.

Curini said it was nice thing about it this Isis had been massively attacked on line over its assert to be Islamic, because it demonstrated just how fragile their particular theological standing upright was among on the internet Muslims. “I’d be a little more worried if perhaps families, when they attack Isis, should they say a product negative about Isis, they talk just terrorism, or even assault … and they weren’t for the religious difficulty. ”

The fairly new science from sentiment study - the automated exploration with opinion - has been dogged from the difficulties of getting pc systems to understand a difficulties of natural speech.

A subtleties involving jokes, sarcasm, slang and general situation can show problematic for algorithms so that you can categorise and help make any nonhuman study of a collection of views prone to huge amounts of error. There is also a possibility of which sentiment is normally influenced by people who shout loudest and many frequently inside of a discussion, but this can be mitigated by way of gathering gigantic volumes of material.

The Italian company say they've got presented a number of innovations to relieve inaccuracies. Rather than routine a computer to understand that complexities of dialect itself, these people “hand train” an criteria to be able to acquaint this with hundreds of great and negative thoughts and the compact groups of words along with mini-phrases they are made from.

The team subsequently get the algorithm to see the likelihood of thoughts and opinions within the total amalgamation associated with articles or blog posts. The group say their fellow reviewed methods have got a 95%-98% precision speed.

Trawling for Isis-related words and phrases such as Syria, the caliphate, plus the name of the group’s leader, Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi, the power team have the ability to collect 3, 195, 000 open posts on social media marketing, 93% that originated from Twitter and the remainder coming from public Zynga pages, forums together with blogs. Posts of which did not specific any kind of clear opinion ended up being forgotten.

Form 1 July until twenty two October, the study monitored shifts around idea over some of the most extraordinary functions of Syrian conflict this year, such as Isis’s attack to the Yazidi fraction and the swift advance around american Iraq, this publication of video lessons showing the beheadings of hostages, your bombings of Isis roles by the YOU AND ME and a consortium from other Arab lands, and the duress within the Kurdish town with Kobani.

Violence generally seems to mobilise people resistant to the perpetrators, the study uncovered. The beheading involving British aid staff member Jake Haines concerning 13 September as well as the start of US-led bombardment associated with Isis positions in Syria upon 23 Sept were followed by massive anti- then pro-Isis reactions.

Curini talked about the apparent deviation inside opinions failed to necessarily show individuals were changing their opinions, but much more likely showed the mobilisation from revealed supporters or simply opponents following huge events. “The insurance plan increases, therefore you use the and you post far more issues, ” Curini said.

The organization also collected and additionally analysed around 95, 000 Arabic-language current information reports to do a comparison of the social media blogposts against. They noticed the news articles or blog posts to get hostile to Isis eight times from 10 and no record correlation between the a pair of, suggesting genuine and the most useful state-controlled media cant be found handling opinions via the internet. “By analysing web 2 . 0 we can see there isn't always this particular homogenous sentiment against Isis, ” Curini stated.

• Additional revealing by Mona Mahmood News can be according to threat …

… only just when we require it the most. Millions of subscribers around the world are flocking to the Mom or dad looking for honest, authoritative, fact-based credit reporting that can help all of them understand the biggest concern we have faced in this lifetime. However , at the crucial moment, press companies are confronting a cruel fiscal double blow: by using fewer consumers in a position to leave their houses, in addition to fewer thing vendors in operation, we’re seeing a reduction in rag sales over the USA. Advertising revenue is constantly on the tumble steeply in the meantime as businesses have the pinch. We need you help enter into a gap.

We trust each of us is deserving of equal access to necessary public service journalism. So , dissimilar to a good many others, we made some other personal preference: to keep Guard journalism open for, regardless of where they are located or what exactly they're able to afford to pay. The best selection not really be potential without financial advantages from those who is able to afford to pay, exactly who right now support our get the job done out of 180 international locations around the world.

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blak-pawed-stuffed-lion · 5 years

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Sans and a Theory about Monster Genetic Disorders.

Disclaimer: I am not a medical professional of any kind, and this is simply a theory I personally have based on my understanding of genetic disorders/defects, and my inability to not take a game seriously. I’ve been thinking for a long while about Sans HP and his insane magic levels for a long time, many Undertale fans have. It’s one of the biggest questions. Why is Sans so god damn psychically weak but so god damn hard to fight? I’ve been developing a theory for a while now, and it’s a bit of a long one. To start, I want to point out that I think it’s safe to say monster magic develops and that monsters do go through some sort of puberty phase and develop with hormones and other such things. We can safely say this as it can easily be marked, for monsters, when it is time to drop your stripes and wear your big monster clothes. We also know they can develop facial hair, which often happens during puberty when hormones begin to shift, basic health stuff. I’m bringing this up because it is important to this theory. We also know a monster’s magic is an extension of themselves, but not necessarily psychically attached to them. Think of it like hair. It is attached to our body, but if it where to fall out or be plucked it wouldn’t cause any REAL damage to our person, however, it is a liiitle more lively then meager hair. That being said, we can also assume this grows and changes as a monster develops. Again also important to the theory. Now. If we can assume that monsters can produce hormones and that there magic levels can grow or shift with a being as they get older, maturing as the monster does, it is also possible to assume that sometimes there are genetic blips in monsters and or there magics. This is being assumed simply based on genetic chance, with enough life or living things there is always an imperfection. Perhaps not the best example, but one example of a hormone based genetic defect is Gigantism. Gigantism is a disorder in which to much of a specific hormone is produced, causing the affected person to grow and grow and grow. One of the most famous cases of Gigantism is none other then Andre the Giant. However, this rapid and excessive growth can cause a lot of health issues, and often those who live with Gigantism die at a younger age then those who do not. Now imagine if there was a genetic defect like Gigantism, but instead of focusing on size it focuses on the a monsters magic. It produces a hormone that stimulates magical production, and the monster produces to much. Now because monsters don’t necessarily have blood and flesh, there entire being is made of magic. But the magic they can produce for there body is separate from the magic they use in battle. So, we can think of it like Body Magic and Battle Magic. We do know it takes energy for a monster to use Battle Magic, seeing how tired out Sans gets from simply using it. So most monsters I’m sure have a fine balance of Body Magic versus Battle Magic, so that a monster can safely harness there potential without causing physical distress or danger to themselves. However, what would happen if the energy that normally went towards developing a monsters Body Magic, for some reason, instead went to the monsters Battle Magic? You would have a frailer, smaller, monster with an overflow of magical potential. So, the idea is. Sans has a lot of magic, but is physically frail, because he was born with a genetic defect that cause his soul to produce to much of a hormone that stimulated Battle Magic growth, but not enough hormones that went toward Body Magic growth to match. This results in his poor health, and his poor stature compared to his brother. This could also explain part of his lazy personality, his body simply cont not psychically do a much as other monster due to stunted development. However, Sans can use his Battle Magic very well, mostly because there is a lot of excess, in fact I’m sure blowing off some of the excess magic is rather healthy for him, perhaps his constant teleporting can help balance his magic levels. It’s uncertain what would happen to a monster if it had to much Battle Magic, but i am sure it would have side effects of it’s own. Regardless, Sans can use more Battle Magic without tiring himself out because he has more to spare. Imagine it like a large tube full of sand, it’s overflowing with it. It’s very easy to collect the sand outside of the tube, but once you start having to clean out the tube it’s self it gets more and more difficult the further down the tube you get. Sans has more then enough to spare in his reserves, but once he has to tap into the magic more suitable for a monster of his frailty he is quickly worn out. Tl;Dr: Sans might be low health but high magic because he potentially has a magical disorder that produces to much of one hormone and not enough of another causing his insane attack ability but his low physical ability. It’s not a perfect theory but it’s an idea that’s been bouncing around in my head for awhile.

#undertale sans #sans #undertale #undertale fan theory #undertale theory #undertale sans theory #fan theory #Magical Monster Disorders #I take video games to seriously

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kaibuntsu · 5 years

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The Dragon of No Words - #2

Word count: 5112

Warning: Gorey violence.

You can also read it here: My website | Wattpad

Divider: Freepik

Emrys woke up to some soreness in his legs. He silently complained about it, until the images of some humongous creature trying to eat him flashed in his mind. Oh yeah...that happened. He thought that was just a really vivid absurd nightmare about him escaping his family's legacy or something.

He got up, fighting the soreness, unwilling to bend to its pleas, and headed towards the kitchen. A deep rumbling sound stopped him in the hallway, coming from the guest room across his own bedroom. Eyebrow raised, he peeked inside the guest room.

Ah, yes. Another thing he forgot that happened yesterday.

A giant eight feet tall dragon was sleeping on his stomach, with the mattress dragged from the iron bed frame down to the floor, probably to prevent his long legs from dangling off the frame. The way he slept and his all-black coloration made him look like a gigantic mutant sea urchin that swayed gently every time he breathed and snored. It certainly was a funny sight.

Emrys' lips twisted to a small smile and decided to leave him asleep. He continued to the kitchen and checked his fridge to see what he could make. There was a lack of meat in his fridge, not even some seafood. Avi seemed to prefer meat, and honestly, from his looks alone, he couldn't be anything else but a carnivore. Also he ate a lot. Normally, whenever Emrys cooked meatloaf, he would have most of it to spare as leftovers that could feed him for days. Last night, Avi finished them all clean. The whole tin. Gone. A big carnivorous ice-and-fire-breathing monster needs a large meal. Go figure.

"Well then, I guess I have to hit the farmer's market," Emrys sighed. He should have been able to surmise that the food expenses would spike when he offered Avi the job.

By the time Emrys came back home from the market, Avi was already awake. In his hands were two avocados. Emrys blinked in confusion as he set down his bags of groceries. "Huh..." he croaked. "I thought you only eat meat?" he asked the dragon.

Avi shook his head before plopping one avocado into his long toothy snout. There was a series of loud munching, much louder than normal chewing an avocado should sound. Emrys kept watching while he rummaged his groceries; he just couldn't help but study this odd creature. But the longer he watched, the more he noticed that Avi was having a lot more trouble with the avocado than he thought. Not too long after, the dragon's tongue unrolled from inside his snout, its end curling around a circular object. The avocado seed.

Emrys' eyes widened, not sure if he was more surprised by Avi's ability to remove the seed from his mouth or by how long and prehensile his tongue was. His amazement turned into disgust, however, when Avi dropped the seed straight to the trash bin and raised the other avocado to his mouth. He rushed to the dragon and took the avocado from his hands, to his protest. "Let me teach you how to serve yourself an avocado, okay? Watch."

He took a small kitchen knife from the drawer and began cutting the avocado in half, circling around the seed inside. His cut was very clean and smooth, and he made it very easy to dispose the seed that Avi chirruped at the spectacle. Emrys wasn't done with just cutting the fruit in half; he set aside one half and scooped out the meat of the fruit from its skin with surgeon-like precision, further impressing the dragon. He made a purring sound that was in the same note as when someone says, "Ooh!" His vocal reaction stroked Emrys' ego a small bit.

"Here you go. Catch!" He tossed the skinned and deseeded fruit to the air. There was a split second of regret, he probably should not have done that. He would hate to see a good avocado go to waste. To his relief, however, Avi's snout caught them without fail. "Nice catch," he complimented, walking back to his groceries. Avi decided to help out, surprising Emrys yet again with good manners. Would it be too soon to say he didn't regret his decision yesterday? He shall see later on.

He took out a pre-made roast chicken that he bought from the market. If Avi could finish a whole tin of meatloaf, he was positive he could eat an entire chicken by himself. "I have no time to make a full breakfast for us, so here's yours," Emrys handed the chicken to his new employee. "I have a deal to make later today, so you better be at your best. We'll be seeing my father again."

Avi simply grunted at the mention of Eamon; the man still left some bitter taste in his mouth, but he obliged. He sat at the dining table, his tail slipping through the gap at the back of his chair, and was about to take out the chicken from its packing when he noticed the price tag on the meal. He hummed in acknowledgment and began wolfing down the poultry while his boss ate next to him. Emrys couldn't help but studying the way he carefully ripped the poultry's parts even though he could easily chomp the whole thing. It wasn't pristine, but Avi was surprisingly tidy with his table manners, even if he never used cutleries. He was so...civilized. Very unlike the monsters that attacked yesterday, or the other monsters that attacked his clients in the past.

Even Avi's body structure was very different. The monsters that he had seen attacking and eating people were very horrific, yesterday's monsters alone were very animalistic. Avi still had the beast aspect to him, but he looked closer to a human but with his four-fingered hands and clawed feet. Emrys' brain began tickling the ideas of his new employee's background, how he ended up in that small container inside another bigger container. He was constructing a hypothetical scenario, despite his very limited knowledge of space travels, when he looked at the clock and remembered that he had an appointment to go to in a few hours.

The hypothesizing will have to continue later on...

The arms dealer was quick to wash himself and was clean and ready to go within less than thirty minutes. He headed towards the door and suddenly froze. He totally forgot the hassle of sneaking Avi into his apartment. He hesitantly turned to the dragon, mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find the words to relay to his employee. "Um...can I trust you to not cause a racket going downstairs?" he asked.

The spikes on Avi's back shifted and straightened up, a low hum rumbled from his chest. He turned towards the window and opened it, his head turning to look around the environment. He looked back to Emrys and pointed downward. The human raised an eyebrow and walked over next to the dragon so he could see what he was pointing at.

Nothing in particular. Just the empty, dark back alley of his apartment building.

"You'll jump out to the back alley? I know this isn't a very tall building, but wouldn't you break your knees landing that hard?"

Avi shook his head, and initially, Emrys thought he meant his knees will be fine, but then Avi spread his hands on the nearest wall and started crawling on it like a gecko. Once his entire body was hugging the wall, he released his hands, and his feet effortlessly kept him adhered to the surface. Then it all clicked to him; Avi did not have to jump down, he could just crawl or walk or even run on the wall. Jumping would have aroused suspicion from residents that faced the same back alley, but if he crawled on the wall, no one would notice. It was genius—and awfully convenient.

"Oh, I guess I can park my van closer to the back alley exit." Then he gasped, "I can smuggle bigger weapons easier now!" He was washed with a momentary rush of excitement, but he had to fan them down and focus on the task at hand. "Okay, you wait here. I'll take the van out. Wait for my signal."

Emrys left quickly to the parking lot while Avi waited on the balcony still. It only took a short few minutes until his red-haired head popped out of the back alley exit and waved at the dragon. Avi took an extra precaution to not walk or run on the wall, sticking with the gecko style of wall climbing. Then the two were off to the harbor. Avi's first day at work was about to begin.

Avi enjoyed the sea air hitting against his face, he let out his tongue flailing about in the winds.

Emrys...his face was buried inside a large plastic barrel, his pale skin was ghostlike. Every so often, the sound of his soul leaving his body would come out from his mouth, along with his breakfast from yesterday.

"Remind me again how you're my son?" Eamon groaned, eyes not leaving the yacht's windshield.

"You fucked—hrrk—my mother!"

"Oh, right. Good point. Still, your sisters handled the waves just fine and they're all girly girls! What are you even, lad?" Eamon shook his head, chuckling to himself. Unbeknownst to him, behind him, Emrys shot him a bitter look. Suddenly, Avi burst into his view, towering over his short stature and baring his teeth towards him. Eamon screeched but his hands refused to leave the steering wheel, his seafarer life had taught him to keep steering the ship even when danger is right in front of his face. "What the fuck do you want?!"

Emrys retched some more before raising a hand to signal the growling black dragon in front of his father. "It's alright, Avi..." he commanded through a heavy wheeze. "Stand down. Go enjoy the sea air again like you've been doing before."

Avi left the captain's view, snorting at his face one last time before retreating to sit as comfortably as his tailed rump could do next to his boss. His head tilted slightly towards the hunched over Emrys, then faint red lights ignited from the crevices of his body. He placed a large black hand on Emrys' back and slowly and gently rubbed him, to his boss' surprise.

"What are you..." Emrys almost protested, but he was quick to realize the high temperature Avi was emanating. It wasn't very high that it was searing hot, but he certainly was warmer than when they shook hands the day before. The temperature that came out of him reminded him of his electric heating blanket he uses every winter. It was soothing. It made him forgot that he was miserable and seasick seconds before. "Thanks..." he muttered.

Avi purred and nodded in response.

It was another thirty minutes until Emrys could feel a rush of relief from his ordeal. A bigger ship was afloat in the middle of the open ocean. A man waved a flag to signal Eamon and his crew from the starboard of the ship. Eamon turned the wheel, prompting the vessel to make a turn before stopping side by side with the other bigger ship. The crew threw the anchor while the crew of the ship across prepared a waterproof-painted plank for their guests to walk on.

Avi's larger than life presence made the other ship's crew almost slipped and fell into the sea from the sheer shock of seeing him. Every time a person squawked or gasped, Avi made a heavy chuffing noise, and Emrys had no idea why but it was interesting to see it happen every time someone got spooked.

"Welcome, my friends—aaaaaahhh bozhe—!" the host of the other ship yelled as he watched the black dragon hunched over the doorway into his luxurious office in the middle of his deceptively drab-looking ship.

"It's okay, Mikhail, the giant lizard's with us. Well, with my son, more specifically..." Eamon explained, peeking over his shoulder in case Avi was to growl at him for calling him a lizard. Avi did nothing, but the old pirate could sense the death stare from that eyeless face.

The Russian crime lord panted, eyes wide staring at the dragon who stood at the other end of the room, behind his young boss. His eyes darted from the hulking monstrosity to the two Irish men he invited, back and forth. Eamon had a more exasperated look to him, like he was thinking he knew this sort of thing would happen, while his red-haired son simply smiled. "You sure...?" he squeaked.

"Oh, yes. He'll only attack if you attack first. I hired him as my bodyguard, after all," Emrys said. He crossed his legs in his seat and leaned back. "So, shall we discuss business? How will my wares serve your needs?"

While his boss and the crime lord were discussing, Avi listened. The crime lord would go on tangents about his feats. One time he and his men did this, one time they did that, one time he got caught doing this and that to escape, and on and on. Avi would pretend to yawn, exposing his rows of teeth, and caused Mikhail to imagine what would happen if a mad scientist cross-breed a goblin shark with a fangtooth moray eel. The sight alone made him forget what he was rambling about, until Emrys brought the conversation back on track again. At which point, Avi's tail swished side to side slowly.

As amusing as it was to intimidate the crime lord with his presence, something else in this deceptive Russian vessel disturbed him. It was faint at first, but the longer he stayed inside this vessel, he started to catch a hint. He heard mutterings of the crew from outside the door. They were all speaking in Russian, but he didn't need to be fluent in that language to notice the concern in their voices. He kept catching one word being repeated a few times: the name Sergei. Whatever was concerning these people had something to do with this Sergei person. Avi made a low whining sound to turn Emrys' attention to him.

The red-haired arms dealer turned in his seat, mild annoyance in his green eyes. "What is it? I told you not to disturb me."

Avi simply pointed at the door while making short grunting noises.

"You want to go outside?"

Avi nodded.

"The ship's getting too cramped for your style, isn't it? Alright, fine. Mister Mikhail, would you be so kind to alert your people not to shoot at my personnel. Not that I'm afraid of losing him, but for your people's sake."

The crime lord grimaced and alerted his men not to attack a bipedal black dragon when they see him and to just politely tell him off in case he gets near a restricted area. He also mentioned that the dragon understands English. Once he finished alerting his men, he received an approving nod from both Emrys and the dragon. Avi, however, added a warning glance to Mikhail. "I-I promise I won't harm your master!" he blurted, sensing the sternness from Avi's eyeless face.

"It's okay, Avi. This isn't my first time doing business with him. Besides, I got good ol' Dad by my side."

Avi huffed, but soon left the room, spooking the guards outside the door for the second time. He whimpered slightly, feeling a little bad for leaving Emrys unguarded. It was his job to guard him, but he had to violate that agreement for a bit to ease the rattling suspicion he felt.

The ship's interior was agonizingly restrictive. Avi was thankful he did not have very broad shoulders or else, coupled with how long his shoulder spikes were, he would have a very bad time moving around. At his situation currently, he was slim enough to fit through the tunnel that was the ship's interior. He could not say the same with his height, though. He had to hunch his body almost halfway to compensate the lack of vertical space and to avoid his horns scraping the lights off the ceiling.

He moved further into the ship, enduring the claustrophobic torture. His heightened olfactory sense caught strange scents. He thought it may be just fish, until he remembered this ship was not a fishing ship. It definitely didn't smell human. He tried to follow the scent, which only lead him further down the ship, where the corridors got narrower. No one was watching over the passage downstairs, so he assumed it would be fine if he just wandered there. Mikhail had given him permission, after all, sort of.

The odd smell was stronger once he set his feet on the lower decks. The only way was forward, so he continued following his nose's lead, which ended on a heavy bulkheaded door with a single round window. Avi hunched further so his face was on the same level as the window, a low purr rumbling from the center of his chest as he peeked curiously into the door. A tanned fist smacked onto the window glass; someone was inside and their face was pale with dread and pain.

"Help me, please! It hurts! It hurts so much! Please!!" the person begged in Russian. Avi did not understand a single word the man said, but from his tone alone, he could sense the man was in great pain.

Avi looked down to the man's other hand, clutching his chest tightly. The smell came from that area on his chest. His low purr turned into a subtle snarl and he backed away slowly.

"No! No! Please don't leave—aaarkh!" The man's voice cut out before blood-curdling scream broke through his throat, and even the screams only lasted shortly before being replaced by other horrendous noises. Noises that made Avi's blood riling and his armor plates rattling. The dragon hissed, backing further away from the door.

"Drakon! This area is off limits!" a crew member barked from the top of the stairs. He was a little afraid of Avi, seeing how he was hissing and growling, but then he heard the banging on the door where the agonized man was locked in. "Sergei? What is happening?" he asked, his fear of Avi's behavior dissipated momentarily. He climbed down the stairs to approach his crewmate, but Avi stopped him by hissing right at his face.

At the sound of Avi's hissing, a screech came from Sergei's quarter, shocking the crew member. He stuttered, "S-Sergei?" but instead of an answer from his crewmate, a grotesque clawed hands smashed the small window on the bulkhead. It ripped the bulkhead apart like thin wood, revealing a creature like a mutated angler fish with long arms and legs. The crew member nearly tripped from fright, but Avi put him back on his feet, letting the man run while he braced his body to clash with the finned nightmare.

The fish-like monster was smaller than Avi, but it was faster and more feral. It chose to ignore Avi and chase the human with mouth full of water, but the dragon stopped it, wrangling it by its neck and pinning it to the floor. Avi's body lights turned to red, hot air oozed out of his armored scales and his mouth. If he could overheat this creature without damaging the ship, it would be ideal. At least, until Emrys and his father evacuated to their yacht.

The finned monster thrashed and scratched, its claws tore through Avi's less armored chest, drawing purple blood from his veins, but the dragon did not relent. He kept spiking his heat temperature, opening his mouth to show off the flames rising from inside his throat. The finned monster screeched and pushed Avi's jaws up, but its hands were then restrained by Avi's other hand and tail. The creature screeched and soon opened its own mouth. Torrents of water ran from its mouth and straight into Avi's fiery throat, throwing the dragon off guard as he choked. His hold loosened, allowing the vaguely humanoid fish monster to escape and began preying on people.

Avi snarled, upset that he got played like a fool. The larger monster chased his smaller opponent, tackling it and crashing against walls. Frightened crew members pulled out their guns and started shooting, but all the bullets ricocheted off upon impact on either his or the fish monster's skin. Some of the bullets were returned to their shooters, causing more casualty than there were supposed to be. Emrys, Eamon, and their Russian crime lord associate soon came out of the main office only to witness the quarrel between the two monsters, one of which, upon noticing them, scrambled its way with wide-opened mouth. Avi hopped onto the smaller monster's back, sinking his blade-like teeth into the fish's shoulder.

Emrys watched the two monsters thrashed and wrestled against each other—the smaller one kept clawing Avi's snout and head until it left bloody marks. Avi dragged his opponent outside, far away from his employer. As he forced his opponent to fight outside, Mikhail's bodyguards followed them with a large bazooka in their hands. Seeing one of the men just pulled a weapon that big out of somewhere in the ship caused an anxious stir inside Emrys' belly.

"Get ready to fire!" the bodyguards exclaimed, aiming the weapon at the two quarreling monsters.

"Avi, incoming!" Emrys bellowed, forcing his throat to make the loudest voice he had ever produced. That will render him voiceless for the rest of the week.

Hearing his boss' warning, Avi heaved the smaller monster, still clamped in his snout, and forced it to shield him from the oncoming bazooka. The projectile rocketed towards them; it hit them with such a great force they were sent flying to the ocean. Avi could feel the heat of the explosion and the shrapnels from the warhead hitting his face, but it was exactly the kind of force he needed. With the opponent stunned from the impact, Avi sank his teeth one more time and gnashed the beast's neck off as his spiky back crashed into the cold sea water.

Emrys ignored the fact that part of the ship was burning from the explosion earlier and ran over to the side of the ship. His jade eyes scanned the waters, looking for signs of his black draconic companion. "Oh God, what if he can't swim..." he muttered to himself. The longer he searched, the more his worry turned into panic, and he started pacing to look for a ring buoy when the sea's surface crashed from the underside.

Avi sprang out of the cold salt water, red ethereal-looking energy blasting from the spikes on his back. He landed on the ship safely, though his knees gave out the moment his feet touched the firm surface of the ship. He dropped the two separated pieces of the fish monster by his side before falling on all fours, wheezing and coughing out the sea water from his systems. The energy that was blasting from his back dissipated, along with the lights from the crevices of his armor.

Emrys hurried to the dragon's side, reluctant to touch him from how much heat wave he could felt just inches away from him. "Jesus, you're all hurt," he said. He eyed the gashes across Avi's face and chest, noticing for the first time the color of his blood. "Your blood...is purple.... Huh."

Avi grabbed the head of his now dead opponent and tossed it to the direction of where Eamon and Mikhail were. The two older men squealed at the decapitated head thrown at them that they jumped to each other's arms for protection. Avi pointed a finger at one of them, at the Russian crime lord, specifically. It was up to Emrys to interpret what Avi wanted to say.The red-head scratched his head. "You think the monster has anything to do with Mikhail?" he asked. The dragon nodded weakly, shifting position to sitting down. Emrys turned to his associate, a questioning look on his face.

"I don't know anything about this...thing!" Mikhail retorted, trying not to look at the gaping monster head splayed in front of his toes.

"Well, Avi definitely thinks so. Where did this creature come from anyway?" Emrys asked.

"S-Sergei's room," a shaken crewmate chimed in. A look of fear still lingered on his face from the time Avi pulled him away from the initial attack. "It—it came from Sergei's room. Sergei's gone," the man continued to stammer.

Emrys' look of confusion continued to intensify as he pressed on. "Okay, alright, why don't we start from the beginning? No, you start from the beginning. Our lives were nearly lost and according to my bodyguard, I think, you've been keeping it all along."

"No! I swear I don't know anything about this creature!" Mikhail defended. "S-Sergei is one of my men. H-hired him a few years ago, he's a sickly guy, said he escaped some shady facility somewhere in the middle of Siberia! I swear! That's what he told me!" Mikhail's shaking worsened that he needed support. His bodyguards lead him to the nearest chair before leaving to assess the damage caused by the monster duel. "I don't know... I really don't know..."

Avi growled but only briefly. Now that the threat was gone, he could focus on his injuries. Only now did he realize how much the claw marks sting. His body ignited red again, his body temperature rose dramatically that Emrys had to move away from him because of how uncomfortable the heat he generated was. However, from the heat, something amazing happened. The bleeding slowed down and the cuts sewed themselves close gradually. The healing stopped once the first layer of skin closed the wounds and Avi's body temperature dropped to an acceptable level.

"Wow..." Emrys gasped. "You're so full of surprises."

Avi purred appreciatively, waving his tail left and right, but Emrys could see the dragon seemed less energetic than when he woke up this morning. He placed a hand on Avi's spiky shoulder as he stood up.

"We'll go home soon, don't worry. There's just a teeny bit more business I need to attend to."

"What do you mean? I thought you had a deal already?" Eamon said.

"I did, and I was gonna leave it at that, but then something from his property damaged my one and only attendant."

"But I told you I don't know anything about that monster!" Mikhail protested.

"That doesn't hide the fact that the thing came out from one of your quarters, does it? Don't you feel the least bit responsible? If Avi hadn't fought as hard as he did, lord knows what would happen to your business when you're eaten by that bastard." Emrys approached the Russian crime lord, arms crossed and a smug grin on his face. "Five percent is enough, Mikhail."

The Russian crime lord gritted his teeth, insulted by the young arms dealer's gall to manipulate him like this, yet at the same time powerless to fight back. The terrifyingly large black dragon of his just survived a bazooka shot unscathed. The injuries he got were caused by a fellow monster, not one of his weapons. He glanced to Avi, considering his options. "Fine. I do owe you one," the crime lord grumbled. He called one of his bodyguards, spoke something to him in Russian, and sent him away. He then turned to Eamon, "Your child is a real talker. Worthy successor, Eamon."

"Not much of a sea leg, though," the elderly pirate groaned. Emrys' lower eyelid twitched at the discussion.

"Well, if you don't want him, I'll take him. My business will flourish with him at the helm."

Emrys suppressed a distasteful gritting of his teeth and stormed his way back to Avi's side. He simply sat sulking next to the dragon, his back facing the older men talking and teasing each other. It wasn't until his payment and the 'damage fee' was brought did he return with a smug look on his face. Yet, he did not intend to dawdle among these people. He did promise Avi they would go home.

"Hey, correct me if I'm wrong, but I think I saw you flying," Emrys said, helping Avi up to his feet again. The dragon made a questioning grunt with his head tilted to the side, but he nodded. Emrys' grin grew. "Awesome! If you still have some energy left, can you fly me back to the van?"

Avi nodded and let his ethereal wings flare to their fullest, showing Emrys its form more clearly. They had the general outline of bat wings, but were made of some energy current that weaved into lines and markings, giving them an almost runic look. They were the same as his 'eyes' that popped occasionally. Seeing how his powers work, Emrys could safely assume that the property of the wings reflected the elemental powers the dragon was using. Since both red and white colors were present, it would appear Avi was keeping them balanced this time around.

"H-hold on!" Eamon's protest broke through the moment of wonder. "You can't stand a cruise on the yacht but you can handle flying?"

Emrys shrugged. "Flying has better view. That's all." He turned to Avi again, eyeing him up and down. "So...should I climb on your back or—whoa!" Without cue, Avi went on ahead and picked his boss up with just one arm, carrying him like a toddler. Emrys' fingers tightened around the suitcase full of money while he coiled his arms around Avi's neck. His cheeks burned feeling the firm muscles acting as a seating cushion. He always knew Avi was strong—he had seen him tear two hostile monsters into two twice already—but being a receiver of his display of strength was an entirely unique experience.

The dragon began flapping his wings, hitting the top of the ship with powerful air currents strong enough to even make it wobble. His feet gradually left the ground. He nodded at Eamon and everyone else, bidding his own version of farewell, before taking off with a booming flap of his wings. The sound of Emrys cheering from the speed he was taken was the last thing to be heard by everyone on the ships.

#exophilia #terato #dragon #monster #monster boy #dragon monster #my writing #my ocs #the dragon of no words #avinashi shirmi #emrys

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poorvioletdraws · 5 years

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Tom vs. The Underworld

Chapter 4: All Outta Angst

Once Star and her family destroyed all of the magic, the use of portals became obsolete which resulted in my only mode of transportation being by foot. Well, in my case, by flight. Thankfully, my powers and abilities were not bestowed onto me by magic; they were apart of me because I was a demon.

Before leaving them, Marco and Star suggested they should accompany me to ensure I made it home safely, but I insisted that going alone would be the best option for me. It gives me time to clear my mind and decompress from the events in the now-nonexistent-Realm of Magic. Plus, I knew that with the threat of Mina Loveberry now being over, Star and Marco could finally spend time together as a normal couple without me being a third wheel... I’m glad we were able to resolve everything and remain friends. It was for the best...

A great shift in the space-time continuum also occurred where both Earth and Mewni were merged together. I haven’t been to Earth much, but I can’t confirm or deny if this was an actual improvement or not. To think, all of this just from Star destroying the magic? Why would both dimensions come together in such a way?

As I jetted through the pink-blue sky, I viewed the new world below. The vast cornfields of Mewni were dissected by a freeway. The Hill of Flags was now sprouting from a cemetery and the Mewni River was running through a series of homes in a suburban neighborhood. Even the Forest of Probable Itchiness had found a new home seated within a hospital--its patients and staff not looking too excited over its new location. Monsters and creatures roamed freely with the Mewmans and humans, the latter being mystified and frightened by the new population.

“Whoa!” I exclaimed as a thunder of dragon-cycles blew passed me. I wonder if one of them was Hampton.

I’m not really sure of the full extent of the change or how far it reached; I didn’t even know if the physical passageway to the Underworld still existed. But I needed to find out. I needed to get back home. That’s where my destiny lies...

I finally made it to the caves of Musty Mountain and luckily, based on my first sight of it, not much has changed. I began to decrease the flame to my hands and feet in order to transition into my descent towards the largest opening of the mountainous region. I landed effortlessly before the cave and stood in its mouth. My nostrils were met with the repugnant burning stench of rot which gave the reputable mountain its name--something I could’ve went without smelling for the rest of my lifetime.

The light from the sun was no longer welcome from within so I had to use my fire to brighten the darkness. My body was engulfed by flame, making it possible to see the huge cavern surrounding me. There were stalagmites and stalactites creating large jagged teeth in the ceiling and ground of the cave while a small stream of what must’ve been magma drooled through its crevasses. It was much to treacherous to walk along so I levitated into the air and slowly investigated the area. If my memory serves correctly, I needed to follow the flowing molten deposits back to its source which, after entering through the gate of the Underworld, will open up to the first geographical landmark of my home, the Lava Lake Beach. But why was the stream of magma running so lightly? Usually its current was immense and ferocious. Instead I was observing a trickle as if from a pinched off garden hose.

It wasn’t long before I found my answer.

Where the great entrance into the Underworld once stood, now a multitude of large boulders and rocks sealed up it’s path.

“Oh no…” I gasped. The merging of the dimensions must’ve caused an imbalance so intense that it upset the cavern and caused the rocks to fall and cover the entrance.

“This can’t be possible. I can’t be stuck here. I need to get home!” I yelled in a panic.

I aimed my hands at the blockade and called forth what little strength I had left to blast at it with my fire. However, after being stuck in the Realm of Magic for so long as a victim to that weird dark unicorn, I was drained from using my more destructive abilities.

“What do I do? What do I do?!” I shouted as I ran to the barrier. I tried to remove the rocks with my bare hands but they would not budge. I began to pound on the wall with my fists and screamed, “Hey! Anyone over there?! Please, I need to get back through!”

But nobody answered.

I ruffled my hands through my hair in frustration and sat on the ground of the cave. This can’t be happening. There must be another way. I was becoming distraught by what felt like an impending depression as my mind teased the possibility of being stuck in Earth-ni.

What if I never see the Underworld again? What if I never see Lucitor Castle again? What if I never see my family again? What if I never see her again...

Her?

Despite my crisis, why was I thinking about her?

I reached into my jacket pocket and retrieved something from inside. I held it in both my hands and stared at it intently. It was the necklace we made together at that temple in Yomi Town.

“Raya…” I whispered her name. I wonder what she was doing right now. She was so kind to me. She included me. She would never leave me alone like… Like they did...

Tears began to well up in my eyes as my mind raced. I was alone. Again. Just like in the Realm of Magic...

All I remember after we went there was everyone deserting me. One by one--Star, Marco, and then Janna. They left me confined to that contraption after they saw… After they saw the real me? Each one of them were afraid and they left me to become tainted by that dark unicorn... And I call them my friends?

I pounded a fist into the ground. Why would they do something like that?

No, it wasn’t their fault… Star said your memories start to fade while you are in the Realm. So they just didn’t realize who I was anymore…

Who was I anyway? Do I even know? What was that thing I became? Was that my true form? If I unleashed all of the demonic souls inside of me and channelled my true power, is that what I will become?

I remember being overcome with a strange sensation; toward what exactly I don’t even know. It felt like pure hatred. But, why? I didn’t hate Star or Marco because we resolved everything. Was something left behind? Or have I always had this emotion lying dormant?

I thought heartbreak was bad, even though that carries its own form of sadness, but having that overwhelming feeling of being alone was much more worse. Being alone was unpredictable. What you feel--despair, revenge, hatred, anger, depression--is all blurred together and harbors an unbearable darkness in your heart. My souls yearned for it. They craved it. And whatever that dark unicorn was, it warped my mind and chose that form. That form was evil incarnate.

Was that my future?

No, that’s not me. Whatever that was in that Realm, it tried to mold me into what it wanted. It tried using me to hurt those I care about. It would have succeeded too, if it wasn’t for Marco. He came to save me regardless of the situation we were in. He is a mere human and yet he took on that dark being for me. He didn’t give up. He fought until he brought me back to my senses. He was a true friend and I can’t let him down.

I stood up to face the wall of stone opposing me and glared at my enemy with a new air of imminent triumph. I began feeling my power build up from deep down as all three of my eyes lit up simultaneously.

“I am Thomas Draconius Lucitor, Prince of the Underworld, and I… I’m getting through this wall!” I proclaimed in a warcry as I floated above the gravel.

I unleashed everything I had left, even a power I didn’t know was there. I was unsure of where it was coming from but it exploded from me like a wrathful vengeance. It was my claim to the Underworld, a declaration for my home. For too long I let this hurt bury and fester inside of me. Whatever it was, it was being released in this onslaught I had created. I didn’t know what the adverse reactions would be for allowing my body to be put through such a feat, but it had to be better than feeling this pain. I needed to get rid of it all. The wall of stone, the darkness, my doubt--all this angst, I wanted it gone!

I kept torquing out all the fire I had toward that barrier as bit by bit started to crumble. I didn’t care if I expended every last drop and would return to that form I once was back in the Realm of Magic. I’m not afraid of it anymore. That was something I know I can control as long as I have my convictions. I am in control of my situation, my life, and my destiny… This is place is not my home. The Underworld is my home!

And within that dire instant, I heard a familiar voice come from the other side of the wall.

“Tom?” It was my dad calling from the other side.

“Dad?” I uttered, still not ceasing my blazing torrent.

My dad began speaking to other voices on his side of the wall, but it was hard for me to hear. “It’s Tom--Hang on---son--quickly, we--everyone--keep going!”

With his muffled encouragement and my confidence to overcome, I dug even further as my powers went berserk. I was pushing myself well passed my limit. The cave began to tremble and I cried out,. “Aaaaaaaaaaagggghhhh!”

“One--more---everyone!” My Dad called.

And with a mighty crack, the entrance broke open with the blasting sound of cannonfire.��

At that moment, every bit of my power was spent. I couldn’t hold my levitation any longer so began to fall to the ground lifelessly. My eyelids grew heavy as I let total exhaustion take over me. The last thing I remember was my Mom catching me in her gigantic hands and embracing me lovingly into one of her tear-filled sobs.

I awoke again, still drained, but in a familiar bedroom. I was now at my family’s lake house on Lava Lake Beach and lying in my bed. I could barely make out the shadows surrounding me as my eyes still needed to adjust. But from the maternal whimpering, I already knew who was there with me.

“Mom…?” I said weakly with a cough.

My Mom sat beside me as she stroked my hair back. She trilled with a croon.

“Your Mother’s right, son. You really gave us a scare.” I heard my Dad say worriedly, popping out from beside her.

“W-what happened?”

I suddenly heard screeching come from the head of my bed as my Great Grandfather Relicor perched himself there.

“Yea, something BIG must’ve happened.” My father translated from my grandfather’s squawks. “We felt an outrageous earthquake here but knew something else must’ve been afoot, since it wasn’t caused by your mother’s anger. None of the portals or communications to the outside were working and we remembered you were still on Earth. So we went to the passageway in the Musty Mountain to find out what may have happened but it was blocked.” My father clarified.

My Aunt Exasperalla piped up as she sipped her alcoholic beverage, “More importantly, and what your father fails to mention, is that it felt as if some form of magic lingered there and was stopping your return.”

“I was getting to that but thanks.” My Dad said snidely.

“Now I’m sure we can all agree that Master Tom’s safety is the most important thing here.” My life coach Brian advocated. Even he was here?

“Thank goodness.” Petey agreed. Even Petey was here?!

Marshmallow squeaked at the foot of my bed. Awww, even he was here. The fluffy pink bunny hopped over to my side of the bed so I could pet him.

My Dad placed a hand on my shoulder and gave me a reassuring smile. “I’m glad you’re okay, son. We all are.” His expression grew serious as he continued, “But please, don’t try something like that again. Tapping into your life energy can be deadly. We got lucky this time but who knows what could happen if you tried that again. Don’t think your old man doesn’t have your back. We worked diligently on our end with all our strength and power to clear the way for you. We are all here for you, remember that.”

I gazed around the room with a comforting smile for each one of my family and friends as I contemplated what my Dad had said. I know I haven’t been away long, but being home again felt like such a relief. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I never saw them again. Come to think of it, it is strange what my Aunt had said about the passageway. All magic was destroyed so how could anything be capable of trying to seal a pathway to the Underworld. And why?

Relicor began screeching again and flailing his arms about as if in annoyance.

My Dad nodded and said, “That’s true. I also wonder what could have happened to cause all of this. Even though the passageway is open again, the portals are still not working down here.”

I sat up in bed, although my Mother urged me not to in a warble. My vision and overall constitution was gradually stabilizing again so I was feeling up to what needed to be done. I needed to tell them all what had happened over the last few days--why the portals no longer worked, the destroying of magic, the merging of Earth and Mewni, and my breakup with Star… They needed to know. It is for the best of the Underworld and how we can proceed not only as a kingdom but also as a family. I just hope my Mom doesn’t get too upset and cause another one of her storms after hearing about my updated relationship status…

I was sitting at the couch in the living room of our lake house flipping through some magazines left out on the coffee table as Marshmallow explored his surroundings on the floor. It has been a day and even though I was feeling like my old self again, my parents still wanted me to take it easy. I could hear both of them in the kitchen discussing plans on preparing a team to dispatch and investigate the new world above once we travelled back to Lucitor Castle. Exasperalla, Relicor, and Brian were all outside on the deck grilling something for us all to eat.

I let out a sigh and tossed the magazine onto the table. Do I really need to stay inside all day? I’m not helpless. A lot of my exhaustion was practically gone. And there were some really killer swells coming in that I just wanted to get out there and surf.

I stared down at my clenched fists. My Dad did explain to me how dangerous using life energy can be. However, he also mentioned that the many souls I possess may have played a huge part in not only protecting me from certain death but also in my recovery. I wonder how he knows so much about that?

~Ding-Dong~

My thoughts were interrupted by the doorbell. Who could that be?

“Here already? Styx & Stones must be on the ball today.” I heard my father say to my Mom. He called for Petey to answer the door.

Styx & Stones… Yea, that’s the name of that beach shop that Raya works for and… does deliveries!

I shot up from the couch and shouted frantically, “I’ll get it, I’ll get it!”

Petey stopped in midair from his descent off of the second floor loft. “Oh, y-you sure, Master Tom?” He asked surprised.

“Psshh, no biggie.” I quickly said as I ran over to the door.

But as I went to reach for the door knob, I hesitated. For some reason, I began to get this strange feeling in my chest that I just couldn’t explain. My heart was pounding and bringing on an anxious sensation throughout my entire body. Is it because I’m excited to see her and tell her about everything that happened? Or is it just that I want to see her again regardless?

I touched the necklace we made that was still hanging from my neck and I drew in a deep breath. “Okay, okay, okay. I got this…”

I gripped the door handle and swung open the door only to be met with Raya’s older sister, Rochelle.

“Hey-ya, Ray--Ochelle?” I stopped mid sentence once I realized it wasn’t who I was expecting to see. My heart sunk.

“Good afternoon, Prince Tom. How have you been?” Rochelle greeted me.

“Um… Fine. N-nice to see you again.” I mumbled.

Rochelle had our order stacked neatly to the side of the doorway and held out a clipboard and pen for me to sign. “I just need a signature and I’ll be on my way.” She said straight to the point.

“Oh, okay.” I scrawled my signature and looked at the invoice for a moment rather disappointed.

“That earthquake the other day was incredible, wasn’t it? But I hear not much was effected down here thankfully or my business would be in trouble.” The older female demon spoke but I wasn’t really paying attention. My mind was busy thinking about Raya and why she wasn’t here delivering our order like she usually does.

As I handed the clipboard back to Rochelle, I decided to ask her, “Hey, where’s Raya? Doesn’t she usually do the deliveries for you?”

“Yes, she did, Prince Tom. But she wanted some time off.”

“Why?” I asked but realized how nosy that sounded so I tried to reiterate my question. “Well, I mean, she can take time off, no harm in that. You see, it's just been awhile and--and.” I rubbed my arm and diverted my eyes to the ground.

Rochelle put her hands on her hips and smirked as if she knew where I was going with my jumbled sentences.

“I just wanted to see her again and catch up, is all.” I chuckled nervously.

Rochelle kept up her all-knowing demeanor but finally divulged what I wanted to know. “Okay, so once we got back from Yomi Town, Raya kept asking me about how a princess is supposed to behave and act. I told her about this etiquette school outside of Lava Shores if she really wanted to see for herself so she has been taking classes there.”

“Why would she do something like that?” I asked confused.

“Something about the next time she ever saw you that she didn’t want to be an embarrassing ‘commoner’.” Rochelle made sure to quote unquote the last part with her fingers.

I gasped, “W-what? Embarrassing common--” I then proceeded to frantically denounce such an accusation, “No way! Just so you know, I never got that impression from her or any of you. And I hope that’s not how I come off. She doesn’t need to do something like that. She’s great! All of you are!”

“Oh I know you aren’t like that, Prince Tom.” Rochelle waved her hand as if trying to fan an invisible flame. “But ever since Raya came out here the last time, she kind of hasn’t been herself. I mean, etiquette school? You’ve seen how the girl eats? And she is the last person I’d expect to follow through with something that didn’t include music or video games. Ha.”

Rochelle noticed I was starting to look saddened by what she said so she tried to clarify, “Hey, you know, it could be a good thing, this kind of change for her. She must’ve taken away a lot from the time the both of you spent together at Yomi Town.”

“Yea… But she shouldn’t be someone she’s not just to impress me…” I said discouraged. Isn’t that kind of what I did to impress Star though?

The older demon girl took a glimpse at her watch and was startled. “Oh! I better head out. I need to open the shop back up and don’t want to be gone too long.” She muttered as she started to walk away from the lake house .

I hung my head feeling rather defeated.

But all of a sudden, Rochelle turned back around to face me and suggested, “Hey, if you want, I can give you the address of that school. I’m sure she would love to see you again.” She smiled.

I perked up. “Really, you’d do that?”

“Of course, Prince Tom. Your family is also one of my best customers so I can’t let you down now.” She winked and gave me a thumbs up.

“Thank you! You’re the best!” I praised her.

Once she scribbled down the address on a torn out piece of paper from the invoice, she said goodbye and hurried on her way. I also waved goodbye and thanked her again while shutting the door.

But to my surprise, I turned around to face my entire family now staring at me intrigued, obviously having observed some (all) of my conversation at the door.

I began to sweat as I asked nervously, “Uh, what are you all doing?”

My Dad smirked as he said in a rather sly tone, “So, what’s this all about, son?”

As if on cue with his words, everyone in the room began to beam in anticipation of what I would say next. I guess there is something else I need to tell them about too.

With everything considered, it feels good to be home.

#svtfoe #OC #starvstheforcesofevil #oc fanfiction #star vs the forces of evil #tom lucitor #The Underworld #TomVSTheUnderworldFanfic #TVTU

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twitchesandstitches · 5 years

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Lilisheb the Shoggirl

Basic Concept: A nice and sweet girl who happens to be a gigantic shoggoth-like creature; her alien appearance is comedically at odds with the unusual situations she finds herself in. And it’s funny for a Lovecraftian entity to be a bit of a wallflower!

Appearance: A massive lime-green woman with a vaguely humanoid body, her body composed of a constantly shifting amorphous mass; new features continually drift in and out of being, additional limbs are common. Overall she has a fairly solid, thick build, but she’s just slim enough to qualify as curvy instead. She’s not usually super busty by the standards of my characters, but she can be! Black veins streak across her body, especially wherever she is about to change form. All her body is extremely soft, but not to the point of being liquid. She’s still solid, just… extremely wobbly. She’s got a lot of subtle details of marine life in general: gills, the sheen of scales, and so on, but she appears to base her form specifically on turtles and octopi in general. She likes those.

Her face is mostly featureless; huge, plump lips, several sets of eyes in fairly random places, and a slight swell where humans would have a nose. She does have several thick tentacles where humans would have hair.

Below the waist, her body is a mass of tentacles, notably thicker than her upper body; she can grow any number of these, and her arms are a similar part of tentacles. She had pseudopods instead of fingers, with very dextrous cillae; she can grow fingers, but prefers not to. She has a very plump and shelf-tier backside, and takes some effort to keep it all big and round.

Due to her shapeshifting abilities, she can take on pretty much any shape she wants, though she cannot alter her species; she is obviously a shoggoth girl, in any form. She generally prefers not to deviate from this base form too much, but doesn’t mind adding extra features such as additional eyes, breasts (for multi boob elements), or limbs.

Backstory: She is OLD. Like, super old, really old. She was old long before humanity ever made their first tentative steps into space, and she may well have been alive since before our most distant ancestors had even begun to walk upright on the plains of Central Africa. Consequently, not a whole lot about her is clear, as her vast age leaves her earlier times obscured by the fog of ages, and she would indeed like to know more of what she has forgotten over the years. It is clear, though, that she is a fairly ordinary woman of possibly the eldest known species in the multiverse. She’s lived through at least four different collapses (societal, galactic and even truly cosmic levels) and in conjunction with the constant disasters she sees on an almost daily basis, she’s become something of a hyper anxious nervous wreck.

She is a member of her species commonly referred to as a brood queen; she reproduces asexually, gestating and producing hundreds of offspring that she can then implant in physically receptive mortals - and in turn give her offspring some of their traits and gradually help her own people adapt to changing circumstances - and her relationships with mortals can cause her to gestate entire new species from them. AS a consequence she’s always been rather sheltered and tends to be very codependent on those around her for emotional support.

In fairly recent years, she has done her best to assume ordinary jobs free from stress and Adventure. She does well as an archaeologist, not so much seeing it as uncovering mysteries as remembering things that modern folk have forgotten or laid aside, but unfortunately that does tend to involve a lot of adventure. Invariably, whether she is a cleaner or manager or professor of magic, she winds up entangled in stressful situations.

Personality: Most people, blessed with powers that make humans look like wimps and a natural form of immortality - or something close to it - would probably be a bit arrogant if they spend all their time around those doomed to die by the advance of time. Lilisheb is not one of those people; fundamentally sweet, kind-hearted and as inclined to nastiness as a lump of jelly, she is deeply loving and is a stable center despite being a primordial mass of shapeshifting immortal flesh.

She’s very anxious in pretty much any high-octane situation or what takes her out of a comfort zone… which is bad for her since most of the events I write her into are full of ADVENTURE. This all despite her being borderline indestructible. She does her best to stay calm, which usually lasts for all of a few seconds.

Outside of constantly panicking when villains attack, giant monsters start fighting or she gets pulled into a treasure hunt as a meat shield, she’s a friendly and kind entity, doing her best to put others at ease. She is very affectionate, and doesn’t have much interest in social norms. She shows her love the ways that feel right to her, even if this means sucking you right into her with an overly affectionate hug! Her basis deamonir is like a combo of bubbly and sedate, easygoing but very cheerful about it. Because her people tend to take a very long response to anything, she comes off as obnoxiously airheaded to her people. She does her duties calmly and without emotion, and often serves as a living couch to her smaller friends..

Species: Her people are commonly referred to as shoggoths, but their own word for themselves - roughly translated into one human language - can be rendered as ‘eldlimi’, or eldlimus in singular. They are unbelievably old, and hold a competitive place for ‘oldest beings in the known multiverse’ alongside the Transformers of Cybertron, the giants of the elemental planes, and various precursor societies. They have little common appearance, generally manifesting as a mass of amorphous flesh that is almost liquid in its flowy-ness. They can learn to assume whatever form suits them, though they are often inclined to use certain morphs as a default. Tentacles, multiple eyes, and aquatic traits dominate their instinctive forms, suggesting that their true origin is deep sea.

Certainly the eldlimi are very, very old and established, having stood as masters of the cosmos time and time again. They hold a position for establishing cosmic councils where all civilizations can meet together and peacefully negotiate for the future, and did so shortly after recovering from their most recent collapse. Due to their age, they tend to not take ordinary mortals too seriously, but at worst they tend to infantilizing others, rather than cruelty or oppression.

Fandom: Original. While heavily influenced by shoggoths from Lovecraft’s mythos, she bears little resemblance to either them or their outlook in a practical sense. She’s more or less her own thing.

Abilities: As typical with her people, she is a shapeshifter and can remold her amorphous body into nearly any shape. She can manifest a seemingly limitless number of limbs, eyes or even produces mouths or relevant organs from her body. (Multiple breasts, mouths of any shape or more delicate, unusual transformations are well within her power.) On the same note, she can alter her body to produce certain liquids or chemicals as she sees fit, assuming she knows what they are made of and the details of their production. She could make herself lactate enormous amounts of super-nutritious milk, for instance, but not super-flammable organic gasoline unless she worked out its chemical composition first.

She can grow smaller or larger, with no real limitation besides the mass she has available to work with, though she naturally gravitate towards larger, squishier forms. She can produce as many eyes or limbs as she requires, but leans towards tentacles rather than hands or feet. While she can force her insides into a rigid framework like a skeleton or even an exoskeleton for armor, she finds this deeply uncomfortable and prefers not to. She also cannot change her body’s consistency from its natural spongey nature, and thus she cannot disguise herself as a different species.

Her body’s amorphous nature grants her some other advantages. She can extend her jaws and swallow anything whole no matter the size, as long as she can wrap around it, and make her digestive acids extremely strong; she could even shift them around into her egg chambers, flushing them with regenerative liquids as an unbirthing method. She can push herself through most gaps and flow out like living water, and she is absurdly flexible thanks to her lack of an internal skeleton. Many attacks will simply pass through her if she remembers to decrease her solidity, and those that do hit her will likely be regenerated very quickly by her immortal flesh.

On a more prosaic note, while she claims to have no useful skills, her sheer age means she has picked up an extremely wide variety of skill sets. She has likely done every single conceivable non-violent career in existence, from plumber to manager to economics expert to caregiver… it goes on indefinitely, even if she can’t remember it or if they were so specific to a certain time’s technologies and social norms that they no longer have applicability. This gives her an enormous range in practical abilities, and incidentally makes her a fantastic teacher.

Height: Varies enormously; since she is a shapeshifter, she can be virtually any possible height if she has the mass to do it. She can’t just grow to whatever height she wants, as if she doesn’t have enough mass, she won’t be able to even stand up under her own power. She typically stabilized at around twelve feet or so, barring exceptionally large meals or unusual magical circumstances.

Relationships: She’s a friendly, sweet and gentle person somewhat prone to developing infatuations with people she has just met, so she has a LOT of friends and casual lovers, though it can be very hard to understand exactly what’s going on in her head. She is by far the single oldest of my OCs, even older than the likes of eons-ancient Jord, and tends to drift into the role of a den mother among her friends for that reason. She doesn’t have any established relationships as of this post, but some possibilities:

Sekhma - she thinks Miss Dionsi is cool, but way too serious! Relax a bit, no need to go all evangelical and stuff…. She may be one of Sekhma’s customers, seeking help for her chronic anxiety problems.

Pavumi - She has NO idea what Pavumi honestly is and that deeply worries her. She may be akin to her own people… or to their makers. This worries Lilisheb a lot, even though Miss Ekidna is a really nice lady!

Hivluk - what a handsome young man! She adores him, he’s just so sweet! For his part, he’s fine with her advances, as she is not even slightly scary.

Toast - she’s a xenophile sweetheart who wants everyone to be happy; he’s a loopy killing machine who wants to kill all humanity for what are probably imagined slights. They don’t get along at all for those reasons, but would probably be decent friends if that wasn’t an issue.

Odina: Besties!!! Both of them hate adventure, and would rather stay home and enjoy mundane, slice of life things. When together, Odina tends to be the more practical and sensible between the two, and gets sandwiched into her body a lot.

Pred Level: Moderate predator, with some prey levels. She is not primarily a predator-type, finding it horrifyingly cruel to swallow friends whole and hurt them no matter how hungry you are. Against threats, ordinary animals or genuine monsters, though, she has little problem simply swallowing them whole with as little interest as if she had finished off a fast food plate. It’s not her first course of action, though, and she is very reluctant to do this.

Prey Level: She’s likely vulnerable to more serious predatory specialists, due to her lack of combat skills and general timidity. Her prey levels are fairly high, owing to both the shape of her body and her trusting, timid personality. However, because of her regenerating flesh, its pretty much impossible to kill her through digestion alone; even one speck outside that gut will regenerate back to the true Lilisheb!

Relevant Kink Material: Xeno stuff in general; her shapeshifting powers offer many possibilities for Big Sexy Monster Girls. Her vast size, kindly demeanor and romantic inclinations are great sweetness material.

#/#//#///#////#/////#queued #oc refs #my OCs #lilisheb #crossthicc!lilisheb

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chancellormatt · 5 years

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Voltron Rewrite Episode Three - A Robeast Appears

Episode Three

Raimon stands to the right of Zarkon, unmoving, like a statue. Sendak stands on the other side of the Emperor, shifting the fingers of his artificial arm subconsciously. The three of them are inside a small hanger, overlooking the colony from a hidden position in the dome. The light from the colony’s artificial sun reflects off Raimon’s dark red armor, as he stares dow, at the fields dotted with distant houses and other structures. A transport ship flies inside the hangar and lands. A moment later the hatch hisses open, and Lotor exits, followed shortly by Honerva. Raimon finally looks up, as Zarkon begins to speak.

“This is the fourth time you’ve visited.” Zarkon says. “I hope you are not wasting all of our time mingling with your lessers boy.”

“Hardly.” Lotor replies. “I am merely preparing them for the coming war. Today I introduced them to Mother. You should have seen them. When they found out she had birthed me, they were practically worshiping the ground she walked upon.”

“Pathetic. But, useful for the time being.” Zarkon admits. “Forget your cult of worshipers for now, you’ve had enough time for glory. Now we are to find something more immediately useful.”

“You mean-”

“This second colony of yours. We’re going. Now.”

***

The research laboratory is a dark place, empty equally of life and light. This is changed when a blast of blue energy smashes the door to pieces. Raimon stands in the now empty doorway with an outstretched hand, which crackles lightly with energy. He steps aside to allow Zarkon to enter, followed by Lotor, Honerva, Sendak, before Raimon himself brings up the rear.

“Why not just break it down yourself?” Lotor asks his father, eyeing the shards of broken metal that were once a door.

“A lesson. Sometimes it is important to remind those who you command who their leader is.”

Lotor eyes Raimon, who does not react. The Prince then shrugs and turns to examine the room.

“Now let’s see what I was up to here…” Lotor steps over to the side of the door way and waves his hand above a scanner. Lights in the room flicker on, and the contents of the room are revealed in full light. Bodies, hanging in canisters of fluid line the walls. It is clear that they are altean.

“Oh.” It is all Prince Lotor seems to be able to say.

Zarkon laughs. Lotor looks at his father with confusion. Zarkon shakes his head the barest ghost of a smile on his lips. “So much for your ‘second colony.’ These alteans were led to this moon like a Migrap to the slaughter. They were foolish to trust you.”

Raimon walks up to one of canisters and places his hand on the glass.

“But...why?” Prince Lotor asks, looking away from the canisters disgustedly. “I can’t imagine my alternate would do this without very good cause.”

“Quintessence.” Honerva says, suddenly. “Alteans we...they have a unique relationship with quintessence.”

Lotor nods, and walks over to one of the display and takes a readout from a small display on the side. “...right you are mother. They’ve...they’ve been sucked dry. This...yes, this makes sense. It was the only way he could get such pure quintessence. He...did what he had to.” The Prince says, more to himself than the others.

Raimon turns away from the canister he stands in front of . “This area may not be secure. Permission to patrol the outside perimeter?”

Zarkon tilts his head as he stares down at Raimon. “...denied. Keep searching this area. I want to find what else my son’s alternate was hiding. Sendak, you too.”

“...understood.” Raimon walks past them, with Sendak following close after. No one seems to notice Raimon’s tightly clenched fists.

“...we found something.” Raimon says some time later. He stands before Zarkon, along with Sendak.

“This moon, if you can even call it that, has been remodeled far more than we imagined.” Sendak explains. “This facility is just the fin of the brantha fish. We found an powerlift tunnel network running all across the underside of the moon’s surface, to dozens of other facilities. One of the sister facilities should be of particular interest to you.”

“Go on.” Zarkon says.

“An underground factory, which based on the computer systems, is for the construction of warships and other weapons.”

“Take us there.”

The shipyard is a gigantic underground facility full of massive pieces of machinery. The dark paladins stand on a platform overlooking the facility. A dozen or so computer displays line the platform.

“Will this suffice Honerva?”

Honverva types on one of the computers for a few moments before responding. “...yes.” She finally says. “The machines here are quite modular. They can be used to build just about anything, and minerals and other building materials are automatically brought up the planet’s crust, meaning very little work on our part.”

“How long until you can have a prototype up and running?”

“A few Vargas. Maybe even less. This facility appears to be top of the line.”

“Let me know as soon as one is ready. Sendak stay here in case Honerva requires assistance. Lotor, come. We shall leave your mother to what she does best.”

He turns to leave, and Raimon follows without needing an acknowledgment. Lotor follows, but with hesitation.

“What she does best?” Lotor asks with confusion.

Zarkon lets out a short chuckle. “Creating monsters.”

***

“Let’s go over this one more time.” Allura says tiredly. “We need to win over the alteans from the colony…”

“-But they’ll never trust anyone besides Lotor.” Romelle says.

She sits at a table in the Garrison base mess hall, opposite Allura and Coran. There is food in front of each of them, though little has been eaten.

“Not even an altean princess?” Allura asks hopefully.

“I don’t think so, Allura.” Romelle shakes her head. “-I mean uh, Princess Allura.”

Allura waves a hand dismissively. “Really it's fine. Please go on.”

Romelle nods. “My people will be suspicious of any outsiders, and we haven’t had altean royalty for ages. You have to understand we were isolated for millenia. If not for my brother...well I don’t think I ever would have ever found out what was actually going on.”

“What if we showed them? Showed them the second colony, all the horrible experiments Lotor was doing? Surely with all that proof they’d be able to see what a monster he really was.” Allura suggests.

“I want to believe they would.” Romelle looks down. “But deep down I know that many, if not all of them would still refuse to believe. They’d say that someone else did it. Maybe even that you yourself did, so you could smear Lotor’s name. Probably all you would accomplish is alienating them further.”

Allura slumps back in her seat, with a sigh.

Coran pokes at his food dejectedly. “What if...what if we left Lotor out of it?”

“What do you mean?” Romelle asks with confusion.

“I mean that Lotor’s gone. We don’t have to worry about him anymore. If we approach them carefully, explain that he died...we could let them believe whatever they want to believe. It may take a while to establish trust, but they should come around sooner or later.”

“And all we’d have to do is let them continue to believe that monster was their savior-no, worse! We’d probably be making him into a martyr!” Allura exclaimes.

“I didn’t say it was a good plan.” Coran sighs. “It's just that we’re running out of ideas. Sooner or later we’ll need to approach them, and unless we come in with a plan, they’re just going to shut us out.”

“We’ll...come up with something else. Gone or not I’m not letting that man affect these people any more than he already has.” Allura shakes he read.

“Of course.” Coran nods. “You’ll figure something out, I’m sure.”

Allura doesn’t reply. Coran frowns, and eyes her untouched plate. “You really should eat, Princess. You have to keep up your strength.”

Allura nods absentmindedly.

“Well-” Coran begins to scarf down his own meal. “Ah’ll beh oof.” He swallows. “-They need my help on getting ready to build the new castle.”

“Do you ever sleep Coran?” Allura says, forcing a smile.

“Not a wink, Princess.” Coran returns the smile, and gets up. “Romelle would you be able to lend a hand as well? I could use someone else that can read altean to translate all these plans.”

Romelle’s eyes flicker to Allura with concern. “Perhaps I should…”

“I’m fine.” Allura waves a hand.

Romelle nods. “Then It would be my honor, Coran.”

“I’ve got places to be myself anyways.” Allura sighs. “Shiro wanted me there for the latest bout of ‘negotiations’ with the Garrison. Though, in truth, it's really just us banging our heads against a wall.”

“Well you are a master negotiator, Princess. I’m sure you’ll get them to come around eventually.”

“Forgive me if I remain skeptical...”

***

The rest of the Dark Paladins return to the shipyard, only now, there is something new in the facility. A massive mech armor, silver in color, stands in the facility, looming over the main platform. Honerva holds both hands up towards it, violet energy crackling from her fingers to the metal of the armor.

“Are you finished?” Zarkon asks.

“Putting in the finishing touches...done.” The energy fades and Honerva drops her hands, turning to Zarkon. “Shall we retrieve a test pilot?”

“Pilot?” Prince Lotor asks. “You mean...this is what we’re using the alteans for? To operate these…”

“Robeasts.” Honerva supplies. “And yes. Alteans relationship with quintessence should allow this robeast and all future copies to have...unique abilities. Would you care you grab one of your new subjects for the test run?”

“Belay that.” Zarkon says. “We’re already all here after all.” He turns to Raimon. “He can test it.”

Raimon says nothing, but Honerva looks unsure.

“There will be a great deal of strain...I am not yet sure if the pilot will survive…”

“He’ll survive. Get in the robeast, Raimon.”

“...yes my lord.” Is Raimon replies.

***

“Just like I told you every time since you’ve come here: The people of Earth, the Galaxy Garrison especially, cannot commit to an interstellar war-” Admiral Sanda says firmly.

“Here we go again...” Matt sighs. Many of the Coalition and Garrison representatives once again sit in the boardroom. No one looks particularly happy to be there.

Sanda shoots him a glare. “-the potential rewards simply do not outweigh the overwhelming risk. You at least should understand that much Lieutenant Shirogane.” She says the last, while turning back to Shiro.

Shiro sighs. “I do understand. But I also have hope. Hope that you and the people you represent will be able to see that helping each other is the best way to survive the Galra.”

Sanda’s face remains impassive.

“This is a waste of time.” Matt speaks up.

“For once, I agree with former Science Officer Holt.” Sanda says.

Shiro sighs again. He looks at Keith with a questioning look. Keith’s eyes flicker to Allura, who has been silent up to this point. Keith nods towards her. After a moment, Shiro begins to nod.

“Princess Allura.” Shiro says.

“Yes?” She sits up, shaking head, as if driving away rogue thoughts.

“I understand this might be a...sensitive topic for you, but if it's not too much, could you explain to Sanda what exactly it was that happened to your home planet, Altea?”

Allura takes a breath and nods. “I can. My home planet, Altea, was once ruled by my father, King Alfor. He was...he was the best man I think I will ever know. My father ruled with kindness and ingenuity. He was a scientist, of sorts, and everything he discovered he used to try and better the lives of the people he ruled. However, just because he was a scientist did not mean he was not strong. My father was a warrior too, and one of the old Paladins of Voltron. He fought for people that could not fight for themselves, rescued those in need.” She looks distant for a moment, and smiles. “I can still remember when he first too me grand crystal falls, a sight so beautiful people from halfway across the galaxy to see it. Altea was a magnificent place, and I think that is in no small part due to the efforts of my father.”

Allura’s eyes begin to harden as she looks up to stare Sanda in the eyes.

“...my father was once allied with the Galra. He even called their Emperor Zarkon, a fellow Paladin, his friend. And in spite of what happened next, I think at least at one time, Zarkon thought the same of my father. Zarkon, crazed by an experiment to save his wife, turned on his friend. He...he murdered my father, and destroyed Altea. That beautiful, magnificent place, was crushed under the heel of the Galra empire, trampled like a juniberry flower. I am one of only a handful of alteans that still live.”

“While you do have my condolences for this loss…” Sanda says carefully. “...that only seems to further illustrate what a bad idea it is to make the Galra our enemy, and why we cannot get involved in this war.”

Allura looks down.

“Then you weren’t listening very well.” Keith says suddenly.

All eyes turn to him.

“Zarkon turned on his allies, his friends, and destroyed them without a second thought. If that’s what the Galra Empire does to it's friends, what do you think they’ll do when they find a lone planet, with no affiliation to any larger force, like the Coalition, just waiting to be overtaken? What do you think will happen if the Galra find you after we leave? Do you think they’ll ignore you just because you aren’t actively fighting them?”

Sanda stares at Keith for a moment. “I will...consider these points you’ve made when I next speak with my overseers. But I’m afraid my answer still stays the same.”

Shiro nods. “Thank you for your time.”

The Garrison and Coalition representatives pour of the boardroom, dispersing quickly. Allura starts to walk off on her own, looking tired.

“Allura! Wait up!” Keith calls over, jogging up to walk beside her. “Uh, thanks for your story. Think it might’ve helped. At least a little.

Allura smiles weakly. “I just talked about my father and altea for a bit. I think the only part that might have give them any pause was what you pointed out. So much for me being a good diplomat.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. You’re good at this. Sanda’s just a piece of work.”

“I think she’s just following orders.” Allura points out. “I can’t say for sure, but my gut tells me that she does want to help, but can’t go against the orders of her superiors.”

“Maybe.” Keith shrugs.

Neither say anything for a few moments. Keith shoots her glances a few times, then sighs.

“...Allura, I know you said you were alright before...but are you sure? You’ve been seeming really distracted lately, especially in meetings.”

“It's nothing…” Allura hesitates.”...no, that isn’t really true. It's the altean colony. We’ve been trying to divise the best way to approach them, but so far we only have a few bad options. I’m becoming increasingly worried about what might happen if our first contact with them goes wrong.”

“Well if anyone knows alteans, it's you. I’m sure you’ll be able to work it out.”

“That’s what everyone says. But honestly I’m at a loss. I’m not my father, I don’t have his skill with leadership, and I never got a real chance to lead my people…” She looks down.

“Allura, trust me when I say your people could do a lot worse than you.” Keith replies.

“I suppose your right.” She sighs.“Their last leader was Lotor, after all.”

“Hm? Oh right Lotor.”

“Who..who were you thinking of?” Allura asks with confusion.

Keith suddenly looks nervous. “Uh, well Zarkon was a pretty terribly emperor, then of course you got Haggar, Sendak, really just a lot of bad leaders out there...”

Allura still looks at Keith with suspicion, but doesn’t press further.

“...thank you.” She says instead. “I’ll keep trying to find a solution to this problem with the alteans.”

“You wouldn’t be Allura if you didn’t.” Keith smiles. “If you ever need to talk about this stuff again...well you know where to find me.”

“I will.” Allura nods.

Keith waves and turns around to walk off down the corridor. Allura continues on her own, though she does seem more lively than before.

***

The Robeast slams into the side of the platform, causing the whole thing to shake.

“Amazing.” Sendak says.

“It’s not Voltron, but it should suffice.” Zarkon notes.

A port opens on the machine’s chest, and Raimon stumbles out to collapse on the floor. They stare down at him for a time. Zarkon nudges the man with his foot. Raimon grunts, then tried to get to his feet. He gets halfway up before slumping back down to the floor panting.

“See?” Zarkon says with a chuckle. “He survived.”

“Yes…” Honerva says. “In the future we should see about training the pilots to withstand the stress. However, I suspect that you will not have time for that for your next demonstration.”

“Correct.”

“Demonstration?” Lotor asks.

“The whole universe is going to see what this machine can do. And that will be just the first of many. Sendak? You found what I asked?”

“Of course, my lord. A smaller planet, and based on communications, a part of this ‘Voltron Coalition.’ It is a ways off, but if this Robeast can move as fast as Honerva claims, that should not be a problem.”

“Good. Lotor, go back to the colony and grab one of your new underlings. It’s well past time we made our first move…”

***

“Then I was like KA-BOOM! And the dragon was like BLEAH!!! And that’s how we beat the game!” Lance explains animatedly.

Lance stands besides Hunk and Pidge, talking as they work on various electronic equipment.

“It look a lot longer than he made it sound.” Pidge says. “We stayed up til like two am trying to take that thing down. Probably would have gotten through it sooner if Lance hadn’t used all his health potions on the first level...”

“She’s just mad I’m better at her game than she is.” Lance whispers to Hunk, just loud enough for Pidge to hear.

“It's a team based game!” Pidge exclaimes “When one of us wins we both do, how can you say you’re better?”

“‘Cause I got the last hit, duh.”

“After I buffed you!”

Lance waved his hand dismissively. Hunk chuckles.

“Whatever.” Pidge shrugs. “I’m just glad my mom let me work on stuff. Think the cookies might have helped though...”

“Oh by the way,I forgot to mention, but you can thank Hunk for those cookies.” Lance says. “I mean it was my idea, but he did all the work…”

“I kinda figured.” Pidge replies. “Thanks Hunk.

“It wasn’t just me, my family helped too.” Hunk pipes in “We all love cooking so it was a pleasure. They were good too...we uh, might’ve made some more just for us.”

It's Pidge and Lance’s turn to chuckle.

“Hey wait a minute.” Hunk says, as if remembering something. “Weren’t you gonna go ask Allura out on that date yesterday? What happened to that?”

“I’m...getting around to it…” Lance says, rubbing his neck.

Hunk eyes him dubiously.

“Look man, I’m just waiting for the right time. Seems like she’s got a lot on her mind lately...”

Pidge doesn’t say anything.

“Whatever, doesn’t matter to me.” Hunk shrugs.

Lance looks troubled, but Hunk doesn’t seem to notice. He starts to whistle a tune as he continues to disassemble electronics.

“You sure seem happy today.” Lance notes.

“Well I’m back with my family, on earth, and the most important thing I have to do is some basic engineering.” Hunk smiles. “Guess I’m just glad that we can all finally rel-”

Hunk is cut off by a sound from each of the three’s communicators. They all pull out their devices, to hear Shiro’s voice:

“All Paladins and Coalition forces! Report to the ships waiting outside the garrison base! This is not a drill!”

Lance Pidge and Hunk all share a look, before scrambling towards the exit.

***

Allura rushes up to a platform where a small crowd of Coalition forces have gathered. Shiro and Keith are already standing atop the platform.

“What’s going on?” Allura asks, pulling herself up onto the platform.

“Ever heard of the planet Koroth?” Keith asks, helping her up to a standing position.

“Sounds vaguely familiar.”

“It's a small planet that’s pledged for the Coalition, not too far from here. They’ve been attacked.”

“Galra?”

“What else could it be? We’re the only support close enough to get there in time.”

“What’d we miss?” Pidge asks, climbing up, alongside Lance and Hunk.

“Just about to get started…” Keith looks to Shiro, who nods.

“Everyone listen up!” Shiro says. “One of our allies, the people of planet Koroth are under attack! Their communications cut off midway through their distress call, so we have to assume the worst. No one else is near close enough to help them, so we’re heading over their effective immediately. Strap in. Whatever’s waiting for us over there, it probably isn’t going to be pretty.”

The Coalition personnel disperse to run to their respective ships. Shiro turns to the Paladins.

“Good luck out there guys.”

“Shiro...you aren’t coming?” Keith asks, confused.

Shiro frowns and glances down at his arm. “I’m not a Paladin anymore, and I don't think I’d be much help out there anyway...I’ll do more good back here, trying to get things going with the Garrion.”

“...alright.” Keith says uncertainty. He turns to the other Paladins. “Let’s move!”

The Paladins head to their lions. Keith glances over at a determined looking Allura.

“You uh...up for this?” He asks her carefully.

“Yes.” She says firmly. “I’ll gladly accept a problem where the solution is just fighting Galra. It’ll be a relief to be honest.”

“Alright, let’s give ‘em hell, then.”

The Lions of Voltron all blast off into space, tailing a set of coalition ships.

***

Koroth sits in the darkness of space, an orb consisting of purple oceans and pitch-colored landmasses. The Voltron Coalition flies into the planet’s orbit.

“Pidge, what do we got?” Keith asks.

“I’m getting some crazy quintessence readings. Hang on...it's all coming from what looks like a city on the other side of the planet.”

“Let’s check it out.”

The Lions, followed shortly by the other Coalition ships descend into the planet’s atmosphere, to fly a ways above its surface. After a few moments, they skyline of a city comes into view. Smoke billows out from many of the structures, as a bright violet light surges from within the confines of the city.

The Lions fly upward to get a aerial view. What they see shocks the Paladins. The entire middle section of the city is largely destroyed. Distantly, on the broken streets below, indigo-skinned Korothans run in terror. Trails of purple energy crack the ground throughout the city, leading up to a single crouched figure. A silver-armored Robeast. It is armed with a double ended spear that is thrust into the ground, surging with violet energy.

“What the heck is that!?” Lance exclaimes.

“Some kind of new Robeast, it looks like!” Hunk says, looking worried.

“Pidge, what’s it doing?” Keith asks.

“The quintessence readings are off the charts! I think...I think it's draining the planet!”

“Like the komar…” Allura realises with horror.

“Well let’s not give it a chance to finish!” Keith declares. “Paladins! Form Voltron!”

The Lions fly in formation, and combine into the Legendary Defender, Voltron.

“Coalition ships, give us support, but hang back if you can, I don’t want what's left of the city getting caught in the crossfire.”

“Understood.” Matt replies over the comm.

“Alright. Everyone ready?”

“Ready!” The paladins reply in unison.

Voltron burst into action, racing straight towards the Robeast. The Robeast removes it's spear, and turns to face Voltron.

“Form sword!’ Keith orders.

Voltron tears out it's sword while barreling towards the Robeast. A moment before impact, Voltron swings. At the same time the Robeast swings it's spear in turn. The two mechas collide, and a shockwave rocks the battlefield. The two immensely powerful machines push against one another, each trying to gain the upperhand.

The Paladins struggle, pushing with their throttles forward with all their might. Voltron steps forward, and the Robeast is shoved back a step. Voltron continues to push forward, and the Robeast inches backwards, it's feet breaking up stone in the process.

“We’re...doing it!” Lance says through gritted teeth.

And then, the Robeast’s chest opens up. A dark purple orb of energy forms at the opening.

“What’s it doing!?” Hunk cries.

The orb erupts into a dark purple blast of energy that blasts into Voltron. Voltron is flung across the city, to crash back down into the ruins of a skyscraper. The Paladins all moan.

“What...what was that?” Keith asks.

“It fired the raw quintessence it drew from the planet into an energy blast!” Pidge reports.

“Let’s not get hit by that again. Come on! Back up guys!” Keith says.

Voltron lurches back to it's feet, just in time for the Robeast to slam them back down with a swing of it's spear. With Voltron sprawled on the ground the Robeast splits it's spear in two and swings the tips of the two spear blades down to pierce Voltron in the chest. Energy begins to surge from Voltron into the Robeast.

“AHHHHH!” The Paladins collectively cry, as Voltron’s energy continues to be siphoned.

“Hand on Voltron! We’re coming to help!” Matt declares over the comm.

Matt’s fighter along with a half-dozen others race towards the Robeast, energy blasters firing. Bolts of energy slam into the Robeast’s back. It seems unharmed, and doesn’t bother to turn away from Voltron.

“Dang that thing’s armor is too thick!” Matt says. “Let me try something else…you guys try and get it's attention!”

Matt’s fighter breaks off, while the other ships pull around to target the Robeast’s side. They concentrate all their blasts onto one of the Robeast’s arms. The Robeast’s arm slowly begins to glow under the heat of the repeated blasts. Finally the Robeast removes one of it's spears from Voltron, while still leaving one in place. It uses it's newly freed arm to fire a violet stream of energy out of its gauntlet. The ships scatter, as the energy beam tears across the space they just vacated. A moment later, a cable flys out to wrap around the Robeast’s arm.

“Got ya!” Matt says.

His fighter, now tethered to the Robeast pulls backwards. The small fighter strains, not really gaining any ground. The Robeast on the other hand, starts to pull Matt’s fighter in with the cable. The other fighters pull around to support Matt, firing their own cables to pull back. Gradually they start to pull the Robeast’s arm backwards.

“Quick! While he’s distracted!” Keith orders.

“I think I can…” Pidge says, struggling to push her throttle forward. The strain of the Robeast’s spear makes the task nearly impossible. To Pidge’s shock her bayard port opens.

Outside, the Robeast fires a blast from it's arm, which is now angled directly at the Coalition fighters. The fighters release their cables and scatter again, but two of them aren’t quick enough. The fighters explode in blasts of blue energy.

At the same moment, Pidge rams her bayard into the port. Voltron’s green arm shoots up, the cannon materializing on it. The cannon fires directly into the unprepared Robeast’s chin.

The robeast goes flying backwards, slamming back down into a mound of rubble. The paladins are all panting to catch their breath.

“St...status?” Keith manages to get out.

“We lost two.” Matt reports. “Don’t think our fighters can do much damage at all to that thing.”

“Hang back then.” Keith instructs. “Larger cruisers, get into position. Your cannons might be able to do something, but don’t fire unless I say.”

“Roger that!” Several Commanders reply.

“Paladins…” Keith sighs. ”...let’s try not to keep getting kicked around.”

“Easier said than done!” Lance replies.

The Robeast begins to rise from the pile of rubble.

“Uh guys! It's getting back up!” Hunk says.

Voltron bursts into motion, tearing out it's sword as it moves. The Robeast replies by shifting both spear tips into scythe-like blades. Voltron swings it's sword, while the Robeast blocks with it's scythes. The sword blade is halted just a hair away from cutting into the Robeast’s face. The Robest uses the curve of one of the scythes to pull the sword downward while swinging the other at Voltron’s neck.

“Not this time!” Keith throws his throttles downward and Voltron jerks it's head below the strike, then headbutts the Robeast in the gut. The Robeast is shoved backwards, and it stumbles in an attempt to regain its footing.

“Hunk now!” Keith orders.

“On it!”

Hunk slams his bayard into his lion, and Voltron’s shoulder cannon materializes then fires. The thick beam of energy slams into the Robeast’s shoulder, causing it to spin to the side. Voltron shoots forward, taking advantage of the distraction with a swing of its sword. The Robeast however, recovers quickly, and deflects the sword with one scythe, and counters with the other. The scythe blade slashes across Voltron’s chest, flinging it backwards. Voltron keeps from falling, but the Robeast presses the attack. A flurry of a slices from the Robeast keeps Voltron on the defensive.

“Pidge we need that shield!”

Without a word Pidge throws up the wing shield to block the following attack. However, the scythes surge with energy and the shield is split in two. Voltron swings the sword around to block, but the Robeast knocks the weapon from it's grip. Voltron moves as if to fly backwards but the robeast throws both scythes upward and brings them down, hooking into Voltron’s shoulders.

Voltron is brought down to its knees, as the energy drain begins once again. The paladins all struggle in vain. Inside his cockpit, Keith tries his controls and throttle, but nothing works.

“Come on...COME ON!” He shouts. “Pidge tell me you got something!”

“It's just...draining us...too much…” Pidge says straining.

“What about...the fleet?” Allura suggests.

“We can’t they’ll...” Keith considers for a moment. “Coalition ships...fire on the Robeast.”

“But we’ll hit you too-”

“DO IT!” Keith orders. “NOW!”

“Wait what-” is all Lance can say, before Voltron and the Robeast are engulfed by a hail of energy blasts. The two mechas are blasted in opposite directions, crashing through what's left of the ruined city.

“Is everyone...alive?” Keith asks with a moan.

“Barely…” Hunk says woozily.

“Hey man you wanna let us know when you’re gonna do something like that!?” Lance exclaimes.

“It was a split second decision. Wasn’t time.” Keith says.

“Um, guys!” Pidge says.

The Robeast is flying straight towards Voltron.

“Fire again!” Keith orders.

The Coalition ships fire, raining down bolts of energy onto the Robeast. It weaves in between the volleys of blasts, then turns towards the ships. The Robeast then opens it's chest and the energy begins to charge.

“Stop it from firing!” Keith yells.

Voltron bursts into motion, but they don’t reach the Robeast in time. The chest beam fires, tearing across the side of one of the Coalition cruisers.

“We’re going down!” a Commander shouts.

As the cruiser starts a controlled fall towards just outside the city, Voltron and the Robeast clash once again. Voltron tears out it's sword to swing once again, only for the Robest to catch the blade along the lengths of it's scythes. The Robeast uses its position to shift the sword to the side, and body slams Voltron shoulder-first. Voltron is pushed back and only barely managed to leap out of the way of the next scythe blade, however the one after that, tears the sword out of voltron’s hand. Pressing it's attack further, the Robeast goes in for the drain strike again. The moment before it's blades dig into place, the shoulder cannon materializes and blasts the Robeast in the face.

“Nice job Hunk!” Keith says, as the Robeast is blasted backwards.

“Yeah, well I’m not about to let that thing keep us from getting home.” Hunk replies. “But man, the cannon should have done more, Voltron must really be drained.”

Sure enough, the Robeast is already recovering.

Keith curses under his breath.

From inside her paladin Allura examines the damage to the city around them. Thin trails of quintessence still bleed out of the planet’s cracked surface in places.

“Paladins we have to stop this Robeast! As unstoppable as it might seem, if we don’t, I fear that creature’s weapon could drain this entire planet’s life force!”

“I’m all for taking it down, but we’ve been getting creamed up close and that chest beam makes fighting at range a bad idea...” Lance says.

“The chest beam...that might be it Lance!” Pidge exclaimes.

“Huh!? Did I actually figure something out?”

“Don’t give yourself too much credit. Guys, when it opens up that port to fire it's chest beam, It should be vulnerable for a split second. We’d have to provoke it into firing, and our timing would have to be perfect…”

“Do it, fire everything.” Keith instructs. “You too Coalition! Let’s put this thing’s back against the wall!”

As the Robeast begins to charge at Voltron, they pull backwards. Voltron flies in reverse, throwing out both hands to blast energy from. The small shots don’t seem to have much punch, but Hunk’s cannon throws it back. Before the Robeast can recover from that, it is blasted from above by the Coalition cruisers. As it takes to the sky to fly evasively, Voltron pulls around again, to fire with the green lion cannon, knocking it to the ground once again. As soon as it hits the ground, the Robeast it smashed further into the ground by energy cannon fire from above.

“Keep pushing!” Keith yells, as Voltron fires streams of energy from both hands.

The Robeast rises from it's prone position as it attaches it's two scythes back together into one staff-weapon. As it does this, the staff spins as it glows with energy, deflecting the incoming energy fire off in various directions. The Robeast’s chest opens and begins to glow.

“Booster now!” Keith cries. Voltron blasts into motion, tearing it's sword out as it does, racing right for the Robeast. The Robeast in reply, blasts away in the opposite direction.

“You aren't’ getting away...” Keith says slamming his bayard into it's port.

Voltron’s booster wings appear, and Voltron lurches forward at breakneck speed. Violet energy bursts from the Robeasts feet as it goes into overdrive as well. The ball of pure energy continues to glow on it's chest. Voltron is closing the distance, but not fast enough.

“We aren’t going to make it in time!” Pidge shouts.

“There must be something we can-” Allura’s voice cuts off as her bayard port begins to glow.

The Robeast’s orb of energy is about to release.

Allura lets out a battle cry as she slams her bayard into place.

A long blue weapon with a spiked energy tip appears on Voltron’s shoulder. It fires. A spear of energy shoots out, slamming into the the Robeast’s shoulder, embedding itself. The spear, tethered back to Voltron with a cable of light pulls taut, and The robeast is jerked backwards, right towards Voltron.

Voltron drives it's sword directing into the Robeast’s open chest panel. For a moment, nothing happens. Then, in a blast of violet energy, the Robeast is blown apart. Pieces of silver-colored armor fly across the city. A single dark capsule flies out from the Robeast’s upper chest, flinging itself well beyond the city-limits.

The Coalition comm explodes with cheers.

“Paladins...everyone...alright?” Keith asks, panting.

“B-barely.” Hunk pants out.

“Still...breathing.” Pidge manages.

“That was...nothing…” Lance says, not managing to convince anyone.

“Allura?” Keith asks, noting the only person not to speak up.

“I’m fine…” She pulls out her bayard and smiles. “Maybe a little better than fine.”

“Good…” Keith takes a deep sigh. “...Coalition...how many did we lose?”

“Twelve.” Matt reports. “Two in each of those fighters, and the rest from that glancing blow Commander Scrag’s ship took. He set her down easy enough though, that could have been a lot worse.”

“Could have been better too…” Keith says, more to himself than the others. After a moment, he shakes his head. “...Pidge, what was that capsule that flew off at the end?”

“My guess? The pilot. I’m tracking their location.”

“Coalition forces, tend to the people of the city, give them all the help we can. Paladins...let’s go find the pilot, and give him a proper Voltron welcome…”

***

The five lions of Voltron set down in a rough circle around the capsule. Keith is the first out, followed by Lance, Pidge, Hunk, and Allura bringing up the rear. The Capsule is dark, and shows no sign of opening. Keith turns his bayard into sword and starts to pry it open.

“Any bets on who it is?” Lance asks. “My money’s on Sendak. This seems like a Sendak kinda thing.”

“Haggar.” Pidge says. “That thing’s weapon was just like the komar, which was her superweapon.”

In an instant, both are proved wrong. The lid of the capsule pops open, and the pilot is revealed. A young man with dark hair lies inside the cockpit, unconscious. He pointed ears, and a curved mark on each cheek. Allura gasps and pushes past the others.

“An...Altean!?”

***

Hours later, the Paladins sit inside a medical center, back on Earth, in the Galaxy Garrison base. Most of the Paladins are shifting or fidgeting uncomfortably. Shiro, Coran and Romelle are also present. Allura sits incredibly still, staring at her interlaced fingers.

“Paladins...he’s awake.” A doctor says.

Allura is out of her seat in a second. She steps into an examination room, where the altean boy lies strapped to a table. She takes a breath, and approaches him, with Coran and Romelle at either shoulder. The others wait at the door.

“Izan!” Romelle gasps.

The boy looks up groggily.

“You know this boy?” Allura asks.

Romelle nods. “He’s from the colony. Bit of a troublemaker, but he’s not…” Her voice trails off.

Allura nods, and turns back to the boy.

“Izan? How are you feeling?” She asks.

The boy’s eyes seem to focus. He gets a look at Allura and his eyes narrow.

“I have nothing to say to you.” Izan turns away sharply.

“Watch your words Izan, this is royalty you speak to!” Romelle says.

The boys shoot to Romelle. “Huh, Romelle. So they got you. Pity.”

“What are you talking about?” Romelle demands.

The boy scoffs and turns away again. Allura sighs, and leans down to meet him at eye-level. “Izan, I know this must be confusing to you, but we are not your enemies. I am Princess Allura, last heir to the Altean throne. Please, help me to understand how you got inside that Robeast, and where it came from. I only want to help.”

The boy laughs. It is a hollow, mirthless sound.

“He told me you’d try to use trickery...but a Princess? I didn’t expect that one.”

“He…?” Allura asks with confusion?

“Who else?” the boy shrugs. “Our savior, the person who all alteans owe their life to, and the man that’s going to destroy all of you fake Paladins…”

“No…” Allura says, her face already turning to horror, before the boy even speaks the name.

“...Lotor.”

#Allura #keith #lotor #prince lotor #voltron #voltron season 8 #lance #pidge #matt holt

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codylabs · 6 years

Text

Chapter 30: Warpath

Links: P 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29

Wendy stood in the middle of the forest, looking at a particular tree trunk upon which she remembered spray painting: DANGER, KILLER ROBOTS BEYOND THIS POINT.

She pulled out the tape on her time machine. A week and a half backward ought to do it.

The world dematerialized around her in a flash of blue light. It reconstituted itself in a week and a half less than no time at all, and she found herself standing in the exact same place. Only small cues; the shift of clouds in the sky, the change in wind direction, and the lack of any warning painted on the tree, gave any indication that she’d warped at all.

But here she was.

Before.

Before that fateful Saturday when they’d taken the saucer. Before the Friday when Dipper had taken her to Crash Site Omega. Before the Thursday when Juan’s mom had attacked the Mystery Shack. Before the Wednesday when they’d discovered the Forest of Daggers. Before the Tuesday when they met the lion. Before the Monday when Dipper first came to her house. In fact, this was before the Sunday when the twins first arrived in Gravity Falls.

This.

This was the Friday when Wendy first found Juan. In fact, judging by the angle of the sun, this was the morning before she’d even done that.

This was before any of it.

She briefly consulted a map for the location of her target, and started walking into the trees.

She saw nothing on her journey. Nothing but the metal trees whose branches and jagged leaves casually scratched at her as she walked past. Nothing but the little robot pentapus-monkeys chattering high in the branches. Nothing but the nuts and sticks they spitefully threw at her as she walked past. Nothing but the uneven ground and strange sharp smells and the coldly shining mirror-flowers budding by a stream. Nothing but nature. Alien nature, alternative nature, dangerous and spiky nature, yet still beautiful and peaceful in its own way.

She moved quiet, and quick, and consulted the map frequently, and managed to dodge past the more treacherous obstacles they’d encountered on previous visits. Fortunately, she didn’t run into any large predators.

Finally she broke through the edge of a small circular clearing, and stood looking at a crooked, dome-shaped rise in the forest floor, a little bigger than your everyday fighter jet.

This was the place.

If I destroy Betty and Barney’s UFO and the power control coupling now, then we’ll never reactivate the reactor in the main wreck. Thus never destroying the Forest of Daggers, attracting the attention of the Mother Shifter, or having to deal with any of this awful crap…

It’s the only way to be safe.

She thumbed a button on the plasma beam, and its pilot flame flashed to light. The overheat timer began to tick, and the weapon began to emit a low whine.

She stepped onto the top of the UFO, aimed the beam downward at where she remembered the airlock being, and gripped the handles tightly.

Wham.

When her ears stopped ringing and the billowing smoke cleared a little, she saw that the hatch was still intact, even if the underbrush had been burned away a little. So she fired again. This time the glass crinkled and cracked slightly, and a gap opened just a couple millimeters around the perimeter. The air was beginning to ripple in the heat, and it singed the hair on her arms.

Great! It’s loose! Now I can probably get it open…

SNAP.

Wendy froze at the sound.

And turned around.

Not thirty feet away, there stood an enormous robot lion. Looked to be of the male variety, judging by the lack of teets along its flanks (well, they’re ‘recharging ports’ on robots, but same difference, right?) Its eyes were small and bright and red, and its claws were long and curved and razor sharp. Wendy couldn’t tell if it was one of the same ones they fought (would fight?) in a week and a half, but it was quite an impressive specimen anyway.

But strangely, unlike all the others they’d ever seen, it wasn’t attacking. Its mane of antennae were fanned out and scanning, as an Earthly creature would sniff, but it didn’t look mad or aggressive or territorial, it just looked curious.

Wendy spread her feet and took a ready stance, pointing the beam at its head.

Hey, waitaminute. She realized. The robot lions are the whole reason Dipper and I discovered this forest. They’re the only things here that are immediately dangerous to outsiders, and the only ones that have ever ventured beyond the ordinary grounds.

If I exterminate all you jerks now…

That would undo not ONLY any encounter with the shifter, but ALSO our entire adventure. We would have never even know of this place. Never even suspected. There would have been no danger, nobody would ever have been hurt, and Dipper would never even have had the slightest chance of dying.

And since I have the tape on ‘stable’ mode, that means that past-me won’t have any memories of how I changed things! I’ll be able to… Move on. Forget about murder, and not have to deal with the guilt of all the things I never did…

It’ll all be okay.

Wendy squeezed the trigger.

Wham.

The lion spasmed violently and tried to leap sideways or escape, but the front half of its brain had already been melted to slag, eliminating its ability to reason or think. Like a headless chicken it staggered and lurched, then keeled over and collapsing on the forest floor after only a few seconds, twitching and struggling, already dead, as oily blood poured from the incandescent wound.

Wendy saw movement in her peripheral vision. She spun left to see a second lion, this one female, emerge from her hiding spot in the trees. But this one didn’t attack either; instead, she fled. The motors in her joints and treads whirred with exertion as she set off through the trees to the West, away from Wendy and her dead mate.

Wendy fired another beam after her, but it went wide, and by that point she was out of range.

So the chase was on.

The plasma beam wasn’t the easiest thing to carry while running. Since the shoulder strap and top-handle made it hang like a weed-eater or a chainsaw at her hip, it was always rubbing around and bumping against her legs. Wendy held it up close to her chest to be more comfortable.

In spite of the focus this situation ought to demand, Wendy’s mind began to wander. Well… This is it. She mused to herself. After today… The entire adventure never will have happened.

Ahead of her, the lioness leapt up over a massive fallen log. As Wendy approached the same point, she vaulted off a lower log onto the higher one, then slid down the other side. A razor bush gouged into her leg near the bottom, but she shook it off and limped on, ignoring the pain.

The time Dipper and I went out to capture a robot by setting a decoy and hiding up a tree. Wendy recalled. We had no clue how gigantic these things were, and brought nothing but a tiny little werewolf net to catch it. We made it out alive by the skin of our teeth, and had a good laugh… But if I do this, we never would’ve gotten to do that.

The lioness ducked through a hollow beneath another log, and Wendy followed without missing a beat. A drilling worm rumbled in annoyance as she passed its underground lair.

That night in the hospital. When Dipper and I promised to solve this mystery, and prevent anyone else from being hurt… Then we fell asleep in the hospital lobby, both wearing full armor… Then in the morning he took me to Crash Site Omega, and we told each other all our secrets… If I do this, we never would’ve shared all that.

The lioness was a creature designed to catch prey using short, powerful sprints. It didn’t have the stamina for long distance running, and Wendy was steadily catching up.

That time Dipper and I were trapped underground, and swarms upon swarms of robot bugs were trying to eat us… Dipper panicked, but I calmed him down long enough for him to fire off the magnet gun and save us… Then he asked for a hug, so I hugged him. If I do this, he might never have conquered his fear. And I might never have hugged him.

The lioness stopped ahead of her, then suddenly ducked down and disappeared out of sight into the ground. When Wendy reached the same place, she saw the open mouth of a wide sort of tunnel, sloping down into the ground. She jumped down into the darkness without hesitation, thumbing on a headlamp on as she did.

That time the ghosts of Betty and Barney asked us to bring peace and finality to their own uncompleted life’s work… We promised we would avenge their deaths by bringing an end to the shapeshifting monster that killed so many… And we promised to make the most of their legacy. We allowed their restless souls to find their peace, and if I do this… We never would have even KNOWN…

The tunnel snaked on deeper into the Earth, branching off here and there, something like a fox’s burrow. No sign of the lion yet.

That flight aboard the flying saucer. It seemed like we were gonna die, but then Dipper DID die. And I fought my way through time and space and fate to save him, and I pushed through sickness and torture and fear and exhaustion until I punched into the heart of an omnipotent enemy, and I brought him back… And by the end I knew beyond a doubt that it would all be alright, and… And… And I knew no matter what came next that I just wanted to have him by my side, for better or for worse, until the end of time… And then… And then he asked me on a date…

Wendy’s steps faltered.

And…

She slowed down.

If I do this…

She stopped.

None of that would have happened.

Her finger eased off the trigger of the gun.

No…

It’s right…

She reached under her helmet and rubbed the tears from her eyes.

It was right. This is wrong.

This is wrong… I shouldn’t do this. I… I should just forget it. Just go back home and get ready for that date… Let the past stay in the past, return to the present, and make the most of the future… It’s time to leave the Forest of Daggers for the last time.

Clump, clump, clump… The sound of heavy, treaded footfalls.

Whirr… The sound of gears rumbling smoothly inside metallic joints.

Crinkle, clink… The sound of antennae brushing against the walls of the tunnel.

Shreeeee… The sound of saws spinning up to speed.

And Wendy found herself in the lion’s den, surrounded on all sides.

“Okay, well, I think we’ve made enough progress for today…” Ford stepped out of McGucket’s stuffy lab to find his great niece waiting in the Mansion’s foyer, arms folded over a banister. “Ah, there you are. Where’s Mason?” He asked. “I’ve got a few questions for him about the mechanical ecology…”

“Oh, he uh…” Mabel scratched her head. “He told me to tell you he’s off ghost hunting.”

“Hmm… Except I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have any ghost-hunting supplies on him…” Ford put his hands on his hips. “So what’s he really doing?”

“Oh, uh… I don’t know…” Mabel shrugged. “Probably just being hopelessly in love and incredibly paranoid at the same time…”

“Ah yes, well, what else is new?” Ford scoffed.

“I tried to catch up with him, but he was pretty quick and… Oh, what the heck, he’ll be alright, won’t he?”

“Of course he will.”

“Yeah…” Mabel looked thoughtful for a moment. “Hey Great Uncle Ford?”

“What is it, my girl?”

“Have you ever talked to the Shapeshifter? I mean, since you came back from your 30 years out in ultra-space?”

“I believe the word you’re looking for is ‘hyperspace’.” Ford smiled. “Although technically, it’s called the ‘multiverse’. ‘Hyperspace’ is merely the multi-dimension-high-permeability looping medium used to traverse from reality to reality… Uh… Wait, I’m sorry, what was your original question?”

“The shapeshifter.”

“Oh yes. Right… Well, you kids locked the monster up safely last Summer, didn’t you?”

“Well, yeah, but…”

“Then I’m not worried, I trust you did it properly. And the cryogenic containment systems will hold for many years yet. We built them to last, you know.”

“That’s, like, the exact opposite of what I mean…” Mabel frowned. “I mean…”

“What?”

“Biscuit Brown. Carrot Costume.” Mabel said.

The color went out of Ford’s face and his voice got quiet. “…Where did you hear that?” He hissed, glancing over his shoulder. “When?”

“…The future…” Mabel shrugged. “Uh… Some stuff happened, and then we used a time machine to keep them from happening, and then future-you told us to tell you that, so… What does that mean?”

“Those…” Ford’s eyes began to dart around with a strange intensity. “Are short, alliterative, easy-to-remember mnemonics, which serve as two of my five secret code phrases, for use in the eventuality that I ever had to send a warning to myself backward through time… The code phrases are ranked ‘A’ through ‘E’, for different levels of severity. ‘Carrot Costume’ is ‘C’ severity, meaning that a future-me believes somebody’s life will be in jeopardy. ‘Biscuit Brown’ is a ‘B’ severity, a warning that a future-me believes somebody’s soul will be in jeopardy… Obviously, the codes are just a sort of validation, with the assumption that whoever delivered them could provide more details…”

“I didn’t understand anything of what you just said.” Mabel informed him.

“Okay, uh… Whose life is in danger, Mabel? And whose soul?”

“Uh… Er… I guess Dipper’s life.” She answered. “And the Shapeshifter’s soul.”

Ford considered this for a moment, then nodded grimly. “Follow me. And explain on the way exactly what I need to do.”

The nearest lion lunged, saws and hooks glittering in the light.

There was no time to get out the time machine, so instead Wendy fired the death ray.

As the light flashed from the weapon, it briefly illuminated the entire den. It was a small, low-ceilinged cavern, with a few branching tunnels to the sides, and a smaller hollow toward the back. Within the hollow, a large female lay on its side, with cubs latched to its recharge ports; must be a ‘nursery’ of some kind. Wendy herself was standing more toward the center of the den; the part cluttered with a mess of metal scraps and discarded bone-like scaffolds, from all the creatures and prey that had been brought here before. This must be the feeding area. Somewhat disquieting.

The light of the beam faded just as quickly, and the world returned to darkness. The lion that had been charging Wendy slumped over dead, from the hole burned up through the roof of its mouth.

By that time the next one was attacking, and Wendy had to dive out of the way. She dropped her headlamp in the roll, and as she came up, she fired at the first thing she saw.

Another lion, this one another male, took the blast in the side. Its antenna flared in pain as the hole began to spark and bleed, but it didn’t seem to be a fatal injury. Must have missed its crucial components.

Wendy spun, aimed, and squeezed again, expecting another ‘WHAM’.

But instead, all she got was a ‘click’. And a little red blinking light on top of the weapon. And a little backlit screen flashing ‘OVERHEAT WARNING!’.

Crap.

Crap!

Crapcrapcrapcrapcrap!

Stupid piece of JUNK!

Wendy reached into her pocket for the time machine; at this point, it was her only escape route. But before she could pull the tape, a claw swipe from another lion took her directly in the chest. The worst of it was stopped by her armor, but it knocked the wind out of her and she found herself on her back, with the burning hot weapon on top of her. As she hurriedly pushed it off, she realized she’d dropped the time machine somewhere in the darkness.

Crap!

But before the day could end, with either a victory or an unceremonious shredding, the fight took a different turn entirely.

A shape leapt out of the darkness.

Not a robotic shape though, not a scary shape, not a big, strong, mighty shape. This was a small and scrawny shape, which landed on the back of the nearest lion. The creature began to rear up at the invasion to its personal space, but then a flash of light erupted above it. The air fizzled with the sound of arcing electricity, and the lion collapsed, eyes darkened.

That was a magnet gun pulse. Wendy blinked. I didn’t bring a magnet gun.

The small shape leapt again. There was another pulse, and another lion collapsed. The others took a step back.

And Wendy found herself looking up at the short silhouette standing over her. And she saw a small hand, a human hand, reach down toward her to help her up. Judging by a few scratches on the hand and rough tears in the shirt, he’d come all the way here with only partial armor. And judging by how heavily he was breathing, he’d ran most of the way.

Their eyes met, and she just stared for a few seconds, feeling confused and relieved and guilty and sweaty all at the same time.

“Hi Wendy.”

“…Hey… Hey dude.”

She took his hand.

He pulled her to her feet, pressed a second magnet gun into her grasp, and turned around. She tossed aside the plasma beam as she turned around too. They found themselves back to back, weapons raised and ready, as the creatures circled in closer. Aiming was almost unnecessary at this range, but she took a deep breath to steady her hands anyway. Behind her, she heard Dipper stutter.

“S-so what’s the plan here? Kill them all?”

“No… No, I mean, it was, but… I was wrong… Dipper, I’m sorry.”

“What’s the plan?” He repeated more urgently.

“…Just to get out alive.”

“Good plan.”

They fired, they aimed, they fired, they aimed again. The lights flashed, the electricity crackled, and two by two the creatures collapsed.

In another reality that never happened, this same boy had immobilized one of these creatures with nothing but an axe and some luck. In that same reality, this same girl had taken on a time-traveling shapeshifter with the same weapons, and emerged with similar results.

Now that both of them were working together, adequately armed and prepared, neutralizing an entire clan of murderous machines was… Trivially easy.

In less than a minute, they found themselves standing in the middle of a crowd of almost a dozen dead or unconscious beasts. The magnet gun was warm in Wendy’s hands, and its charge meter was down below halfway. Dipper passed her a spare pack of batteries.

Both their eyes landed on the last robot that remained standing; the medium-large female that had been suckling the young. This one had seen the fate of its brethren, and was at least smart enough to fear. Instead of attacking, it picked one of the juveniles off the floor with its hooks, and turned to escape up the nearest tunnel.

Wendy leveled her gun and almost shot her backside, but then thought better of the action, and worse of herself for considering it.

The noise of its scampering footfalls faded into the distance, and the burrow was once again silent.

Wendy could hear her heart beating. Heck, she thought she could hear his heart beating. She sighed, and ran a hand through her hair, racking her brain to try to figure out how to begin to explain all this. He needs to know. I need to tell him. But how do I do that? How do I even start…?

“…T-thanks.” She finally managed instead. “The… That stupid gun overheated.”

“Yeah…” He gasped for breath. “It’s… Uh… Uh, it’s hardcoded with a 3-minute cooldown period between volleys…” He fished a fat little pamphlet out of his vest, and tossed it to her. “You left the instruction manual back at McGucket’s and I kinda read it on the way. Uh… Yeah.”

“3 minutes, huh?”

“Sucks, right?”

“Yeah… I guess the rest of these guys will probably reboot before it’s done.”

“I was thinking the same thing. Do you want to set up an ambush at the top of the tunnel?”

“No… No, it’s fine, it’s all fine… Let’s just go…”

“Well… You were right in the middle of blowing everything up! I mean… We still could, i-i-it would just be a little strategy…”

“No…” She picked the death ray off the ground, slung it around her shoulder, then located the time machine and stuffed it in her pocket. “No, I… I was wrong.” She said. “Let’s just… Just get the heck out of here…”

He nodded, and made to leave. She started to follow him, but came up short when he suddenly stopped, and turned back around to face her. She met his eye. “…Aren’t you curious if I’m a shapeshifter?” His voice had an edge to it.

She blinked.

Well, he had the instruction manual, and had a few red scratches, and was acting just like he always does… And heck, he’d just saved her life, when anyone else, even any human, doubtlessly would have hesitated. Of course he was the real Dipper… Wasn’t he?

But the thought had occurred to her. I mean, come on! It doesn’t make any sense for Dipper to be here and now! How did he get here? How did he know I’d be here? How is he last week right now? What if he saved my life just to earn my trust? What if… What if, what if… She racked her brain, knowing that any lapse in paranoia, any smallest mistake, any trust at all, could be fatally dangerous. She felt her hand subconsciously moving toward her axe.

But…

But he never tried to prove himself. He never said his name, or gave proof, or made a big show of being Dipper, or grilled me for info… He just reminded me to be more careful. Which means he’s just as smart and paranoid as he should be… But he’s innocent. “Uh… If you’re really you…” Even as she spoke, she wished she hadn’t, for she knew he was really him. “Then you remember how to tell me…”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Uh… My real name is Mason Ferdinand Pines…” He made the sign of zipping and locking his lips.

“I know.” She sighed.

“I… Uh… I got a week and a half ago by promising to leave a time machine in a rotten stump the next time I got one…” He pulled a tape measure out of his pocket for her to inspect. It was the exact same one as hers. “And when I looked in the stump, this one was in there… So the way I reason it out, I guess I’ll convince you to leave yours there, huh…?”

“Good time-thinking…”

“Okay, well, I mean, if you don’t believe I’m human, there’s lots of sharp things around here. I can… Bleed red or…”

“No.” Wendy waved a hand in apology. “No. No, no man, it’s fine… I’m sorry. You’re you, I’m just… I… Sorry. I guess it’s all gone to my head-”

“No.” He decided out loud. “No, I’m gonna bleed!” He walked over to the wall of the tunnel, where a small tuft of razor-grass was growing. “Because I need you to know it’s really me!”

“Wait, dude, no it’s fine-!”

He closed his left fist around the grass, and gritted his teeth before pulling.

“Dude, please!” She reached out to stop him.

Blood flowed from a gash in his palm. Red blood, whose stark color almost seemed to glow under the glare of his flashlight.

He spun back toward her, and pointed a bloody finger to his chest. “I’M the real Dipper!” His voice cracked despite its sternness, though she couldn’t tell if it was from pain or anger or being on the verge of tears. “I AM!” He repeated, with a panicked squeal. “I don’t know why you would think I’m a shapeshifter, but if you needed your own dad to bleed before you’d believe him, then I’m not taking the chance! You’ve got to KNOW for good and real that I’m ME! And I am! SEE! LOOK! I AM!” He held up his red palm. Red blood. Human blood. Dipper’s blood.

Wendy had seen him this angry only rarely. It was never a pretty sight, but it was always directed at someone else. Stan or Robbie most often, Mabel or Soos once or twice, and of course at the bad guys, abominations like Bill which deserved every ounce.

But he’d never been angry at her; not like this. And it hurt. She closed her eyes to keep back tears.

“I’m your friend!” He continued, borderline hysterical. “I look out for you! I care about you! I followed you across town in the back of your dad’s truck, across the forest on foot, HECK, I even followed you backward in time and right into the lions’ den, all because I was WORRIED about you! I walked miles for you! I bled for you! I fought for you! I’ll do anything for you! I’ll ALWAYS be there for you…! Why don’t you trust me…?”

“I…” Wendy willed herself to speak. “I do trust you…! I… I respect you more than anyone, I-”

“Well then why stand me up? When I asked for a date, you said ‘yes’! Why didn’t you say ‘no’ if you meant ‘no’?”

“Wait! No! That was never-”

“Look, I get it! I mean that, I get it! I’m too young for you, and too short, and I always kind of knew it, so it’s no big deal… I… No… No it IS A BIG DEAL! It HURTS, Wendy! I fell head over heels for you AGAIN and I actually DID honestly believe you liked me, and then you led me on, and now…! But! But it hurts even more that you don’t trust me! Why not tell me you had a time machine this whole entire time? Why didn’t you bring me along when you decided to retro-proactively exterminate an entire race? What does Mable know that I don’t? Why does she know? Why is she acting weird? Why will nobody tell me what happened?!?”

“I didn’t think!” She told him. Her sight was getting blurry. “…I’m sorry! Dipper, I’m sorry! But would you just let me TALK?!?”

Just as fast as it appeared, his temper burned itself out. He fell silent, and gave a small nod.

“I’m sorry.” She repeated. “What happened…” She willed herself to speak. “What happened is you died.”

Dipper choked back tears, and shook his head. His eyes fell. “So it’s true.”

Wendy found herself crying too. In her peripheral vision, one of the unconscious lions began to twitch. “L-let’s go.” She repeated, and shrugged toward the tunnel.

He nodded timidly, and turned to lead the way.

This was the first time he’d seen Wendy… Weak. He’d seen her cry once when she was really mad, and he’d seen her lose fights and tempers from time to time, but this was different. This was her breaking down on the inside, melting and collapsing. This was her filled with guilt and confusion and pain to the point where he, wimpy little Dipper, could break her, with nothing but the force of his words. But Wendy’s never weak… What happened? Did I do that? How did I do that? Why did I do that? I didn’t mean to…

They made it back up into the glaring sun within a minute, then spent another minute walking in a random direction, just to find a safe place to rest. Before long, they happened upon a hollow metal log lying in a ditch where a great tree must once have stood. As they ducked inside, they were reminded of the very first time they’d visited the Forest of Daggers; they’d stopped for lunch inside a log much like this one.

This log was a little smaller than that one though. Between the rusty walls, a mossy tangle, and Wendy’s butt, there was barely room for his own butt. Kinda cozy, kinda prickly, and all the bad kinds of awkward.

Wendy cast one last look across the landscape beyond the log. When she was sure they hadn’t been followed, she fished out a water bottle, and told him to hold out his hand. He did, and she washed his wound, then bound it as tightly and well as she could with a bandage-sized strip she tore from her shirt. It would hold until they got back to civilization.

But they didn’t feel like walking. They barely even felt like talking. So they just leaned back against the log’s curved wall, and sat there in dull and stunned silence, waiting for things to be okay again.

Forgiveness would be great. Healing would be great. Happiness and understanding and trust would all be great, If only they could find the words to say.

Without those words, the silence stretched on, and they were left listening to the distant sounds of nature: the metallic hammering of robot woodpeckers, the buzzing of strange robot birds, and the quiet clicking and scuffling of big black robot bugs that creeped and crawled through the wood around them.

All was peaceful.

Finally Wendy couldn’t stand it anymore, and decided she had to say something.

“My middle name is Blerble!” She cried. “And I’m sorry!”

“I know that, and I’m sorry too!” Dipper blurted. “I didn’t mean any of that! I know you’re still my best friend and stuff!”

“I’m sorry!” Wendy said. “I am SO, SO, SO sorry! I didn’t think, and I was scared, and I didn’t know how to tell you, and I committed murder after she raped my brain and it was terrible, and do you want to hear the story?”

Dipper swallowed, and wiped away his tears, and nodded. “Y-y-yes. Yes please.”

The words came easier from there.

“Mabel, you stay here.” Ford adjusted a few weapons in his belt as he prepared to enter the airlock.

“Why?”

He passed her a ray gun. “To make sure it’s me that comes back out. Keep an eye on the security cameras and the cryogenics controls, notify me of any and all malfunctions… That sort of thing. Keep your walkie-talkie on.”

“Okay.”

“Stanley, you say with her.” Ford looked at his brother.

“What, hey…?” Stanley twirled a baseball bat. It had a multitude of nails pounded through it, so that it looked more like a mace than any type of bat. “Why’d ya bring me along if you weren’t gonna bring me all the way?”

“Just as insurance…” Ford looked at the airlock, and nervously drummed his fingers against his legs. “This is… This is an old mistake, but it’s my mistake… And… And I think it’d be better if I went in alone.”

“Aww, c’mon poindexter! I can help! Everyone needs a wingman, right?”

“…Stanley… Suppose…” Ford chewed his lips, searching for an easier metaphor. “Okay, imagine for a moment that you had a chance to talk to Carla McCorckle again… A chance to make things right with her, maybe apologize… Would you want me there, or would you want your privacy?”

“Wait, you have an ex-girlfriend frozen down here?” Stanley listened to the wrong half of the metaphor. “Bros don’t let bros do that, bro. This just became an intervention.”

“What? No! …But… But I hear the monster is quite a lot worse than I ever would have imagined… And moreover I hear it might be a real person, a…” He glanced at Mabel. “A living… Feeling soul… And I reason… I reason that it might be my fault that… So I’d like a chance to finally, honestly talk…”

“That sure sounds a loooot like an ex-girlfriend.”

“STOP, Stanley…!” Ford snapped. “It’s not a ‘she’… Or… Or an ‘it’… He’s a ‘he’… And… And everything that happened to him was my fault… Just… Just wait out here until this is done, alright?”

“…Okay.”

“-and then we sort of all said goodbye, Ford gave us some time-code-phrases, and Mabel and I time-jumped back… Anyway, yeah. You know the rest.” Wendy shrugged. “…I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I just…” She barely even knew what the excuse was herself. “I honestly thought that if I could undo everything real fast, get in and out, sweep everything under the rug… I guess I just thought it would be best. We’d be able to start over at the beginning of a new week with no memory. You’d be alive, we’d both be happy, and safe, and… And you wouldn’t have a date with a murderer.”

Dipper twitched nervously, and mulled over that for a few seconds. “Stop saying ‘murder’.” He finally said. “It’s not murder.”

“But it is though…”

“But it isn’t! She tried to kill you first! And when somebody tries to kill you, you just kill ‘em right back! …Look, nobody blames you for what you did. I know it really sucked and everything, but as far as anybody else can see, you’re not a murderer, you’re a hero!”

“Then you’re all wrong!” Wendy insisted. “I didn’t have to kill her! And even if I did have to, I didn’t have to mash her to death over and over and then leave her to bleed out, I coulda… I… I just…” Wendy looked down at her own two hands, and remembering them as they had been: bruised and broken in the cold wet darkness, covered in blood. “You don’t know how it was!”

“W-w-w-well, I know you did something hard!” Dipper insisted. “I know you did something extremely hard, to someone or something that deserved it more than anyone, and for all the right reasons! And it’s not because you’re evil or violent; soldiers and cops and cowboys have been killing and getting killed since the dawn of time, and will until the end of time, because sometimes that’s what it means to take a stand! You did it because you’re tough, and when it needed to be done, you did it, and… You…” His voice got quiet. “…You’re a warrior, Wendy. And the toughest, coolest, most… Most strong person I’ve ever even heard of… And if I were in your place, if… If you’d died, I only wish that I would have the guts to do the same.”

She shook her head. “Don’t wish that.”

“Wendy, it’s okay.”

“It’s not okay.”

“It is.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Wendy, I don’t… Look, I think the only part that really matters is that you saved my life. And that’s, just… I don’t know what to say. Thanks.”

“Yeah… Yeah, hey, no biggie, right?” She shrugged. “I mean… I love you a lot. I mean…” Her voice seemed to suddenly skip a beat. “I-I-I mean we all love. You. W-w-we all respect you, and you mean a lot to all of us, and we really… Appreciate… Stuff. In you. And stuff. And I dunno, y’know, I bet Soos woulda done the same thing if he had the chance; Pterodactyl bros and all that… Same as Stan or Ford or Mabel or anybody… We all really… What are friends for, huh? And besides. You died defending me. So it’s literally the least I could do.”

“Thanks.”

“No biggie.”

“Seriously, thanks… It means more than I can say.”

“It’s no biggie, just like I been saying. Stop thanking me.”

There was silence for a moment.

“Thanks anyway.”

“Stoooooop.”

He was a knight.

A valiant, brave knight, clad in shining armor, with a thick oaken shield grasped in his left hand, and a long, pointed lance propped in his right, and a broadsword in its scabbard at his hip. The horse between his legs snorted and panted with exertion, as it galloped up the trail toward the mountain. There was a cave up there, the villagers had said; a cave where lurked a great, monstrous dragon; an evil worm clad in scales as tough as armor, and spewing a great, roaring fire from its lungs.

The knight had accepted their quest to slay it; to save the people and their livestock from its continued mongering, so that their farms could prosper, and families could sleep in peace. But more than that, his quest was personal: you see, during the beast’s last raid of the castle, it had ensnared the princess, (the knight’s betrothed,) and taken her with the rest of its spoils. He had to save her.

(Just to be clear, these were the olden days before they invented clichés, so the knight remained blissfully ignorant of how corny this all sounded.)

Not that it mattered really. No sooner had his horse rounded the final bend, but the Dragon swooped down from the cliffs directly above. Its claws were silent on the rocks, its wings quietly whipped through the air, and the first noise it made was the roaring of its flames. Thus, the brave knight had less than a second and a half of warning before his incineration, not even enough time to raise his shield.

The fair maiden greeted the dragon at the entrance to his lair. “You can’t win, you know.” She claimed once more. “My true love is a warrior of surpassing skill. He will come for me soon, and he will defeat you, and he will save me.”

“No…” The dragon muttered, as he opened his mouth and dropped the whole pile at the princess’s feet: a charred mound of horse flesh, tarnished iron, and the black and red shape of a man. “No, I’m afraid he already came… And he’s already gone…”

The princess gasped when she saw the shape, and put her hand over her mouth.

And then the dragon wondered why he’d done that. The knight had been a good man. His quest had been noble, honest, pure, done in love and not in hate… I’m the villain. The dragon realized. He was good, and I am evil. Sure the brave knight didn’t kill me, but one day somebody will… And then I’ll stand before God, without an excuse or a plea…

When did I become who I am?

Why did I do the things I did?

Who am I?

And the dragon felt some kind of pain, from nowhere at all but also everywhere. It made him want to curl up on himself and hide his face, but instead he just pleaded “Forgive me!”

“You are who you choose to be.” The princess said.

And now the dragon felt something even stranger: there was a small drop of water, spilling from the corner of his eye. He felt it roll down his scales. He watched it drop from his chin to the floor; a tiny glittering orb hovering in the air for a moment before splattering on the floor, and it made the stones wet.

It had been the first teardrop he had ever shed.

And then, the Shapeshifter woke up.

It was only a dream.

A loud buzzing rang through the bunker, and he jumped, standing quickly to his feet. His eyes swung toward the sanitation airlock, the source of the buzzing. Gritty old florescent lights flickered on overhead, and a status light flashed. Somebody was entering the containment area.

The Shifter considered hiding in one of his tunnels, but thought better of it. Then he considered various large, capable forms he could take to combat whatever intruder this was, but for some reason he thought better of that too.

Before he could decide on a plan, the airlock’s inner door creak open. And standing in the gap was Stanford Pines.

The shifter stared at him.

He stared back.

“Shifty.” The old scientist said.

The shapeshifter hadn’t heard that nickname in a long time. For so long he’d just been ‘The Shapeshifter’ or ‘Experiment 210’, ‘The monster’, ‘the creature’, or any combination of those… But ‘Shifty’ on the other hand… ‘Shifty’ was a relic of his childhood… A childhood of confinement and impotency and stunted curiosity and unfulfilled longing for freedom. A childhood he’d hated. A childhood whose scar hurt worse than an axe in the chest.

Stanford Pines was an evil, despicable creature, and Shifty had to kill him.

“You…” He took a step toward his enemy. “You left me down here to rot…”

“Forgive me.” Ford pleaded.

For some reason, the shifter stopped.

And that was a strange moment indeed.

Hbx knpn gfl rup, yse xwsh mggne alzsfw clrh sur vvto. Szw osuij ehw jbavcoygk wjvi kncomyo hbv clldk. Zvy yklrv los yemtnwk ycui zz laxl, hbvt dtsds. Gbv npajv avy brlxgfz pyxoy tg ohwf. Jnp hwsyr nyk Qijka Aukk dcjwhacem zvwj avy zteejuva zfx pvwjfchv zz gwl ac wigdh kwhhm. Jnp sso avy jiteflpgnj szvw xvf mrlptq ebqb kuz sdgdzs.

Rto szw rbyn oe wsk mwhrrwy zswdyeoyg. Sl somk. Ge lgfn, ziem wakl, avy vbpn kg tohp epajk wfignpsawk kuj izmafn hi ggds. Kzl zchatfawk vyi hznwk hbx taclwv osljkwf afac nyk eiyzasmk hlld kos wfawd, tjhqcem sejklzz ku ehw llgn kame osszm noeh xdllcsrp, cmkowieoyg lwurlzrd.

Il zhdjvtpd.

Tq avy koxe kzl tcegwlq hbzfvj sejklzz kurelzlf uej ceyspbyu iznkupcojtpsk, aa kuj gwl gnlf.

Xvgo bgvpsm coetwjlr nyk wat. Los mtopnlazhm ygo add isye zsrgou hi ftp efv vt nyk coge dvyik ehwq sos noeh tjvyye hzdawz, ghrvaev flqej, icogclr nvteaudlg, uej dtads vyrxes. Sfk spvxj safnzy fzsej llgn jamjwua wh knp tmtlg uiufnv zlf qvxp dwsk hif; ge lwszh, ymkcylzpba knlt zsk piekd tg tysub. Yse zwygycl hak xpby knzuyz; cslp sfcz kooevt, lnv xlsfztr saur, pok yse’v kbfpzbpd. Kzl tycz sej wnu, uej tt osz whkgnt.

Lzlm brj dujnpjyu.

Yse xgyayu npr wfawlv hzdq auhi r ytnydl aojiwy, khywhx-rtkw dpav, sxlcwv ph uxgtnkl vby ngwl gx avy kame, kmtaieko add avy guhej sur mkxpnylo gbv nld, sfk hbvt caeelr bvxdedx mifc-lzruw pbnf zse ghwcmzzp wsds. O nztj cjsjy ugvpajwk. Gbv zzoc s tcgvte tg tysukn, ehwf kwx zz lgsau. Hbv icauc dwxvtpd. Kzl rcu oe ofw mwhrr eiew, avy xrlsk koonkkcev, sur nyky szw dom wxpe.

Jwhzfp, zcudq mfyv.

Uye gx avy jiteflpgnj oy tzw ycid clsf’l xickk oesv. Os ffuvev mw on ykc, cgmnvcem mlggk ohu hwifcpba zt sedhssmj jplajpig. “Y-n-sedh… Osfg sp…” Hw ehbuxko tg yhgj, nnpn zw zoq ykc sadocovzee klhbxztr onwy vcd.

Zse lats brj noew ac zlrqidd osl fgeh.

Sk zvy jzlbtwk vcd, yse klhfnvj sej uvihk. Uye.

Kzl plfqp iflv hbv uehwj aivvy, lnv sas mfsp ox los iknpr lwzh mlhueulz, ihkow szw dom wkplafn fyjzzrwv. Zvy ukdtjgfsx r lpw vjvbyj zsal zhr vvky smetchvj eo uguhuzt sej. Guqy knp wsq dom trpaj snoce, yse nwuhoiko oml ac yovwojw hbx vynahw hbx tuyqmwy.

Hbv ysih ohg u wkgej vysud uq ilk mcldkc swdm, o xvyaejsas, wygztau, ocjvrpsk wjvi fl qojyvhnvt rlgjf. Kucrd wwjl pyez lnv uycibko afv dolgko, slspbyu oy pdsjsm se mlska auiqd oj xsicu rpack. Avy roc slsuy iw hwogv, iileko pdszhcty, lnv ooonvbpr uzlactgw tzw ysjroc nsfvpiky hejw zswikeify pb ukzpmhl ac jrznh zgssm. Knp fdgvf qry nonwysx zt mrgclb acgds, lzpqe ry najhlh ce vwauwz, ohu oe cjauyfvj fnvwytifz. Plwuafctgw laflg mgkhev kwolby. Ehw ehzzltntaguwhx rtfw kbdjfxe czsvhctgwlq kowzkko tzw oigzjttq sur jikdsmjl. Qyizlif vvclj cprw olravj dhml, jslkgtn zsszqred cgdsojjko cgewzykkwy. Vwhr vfjtek olfy vbprqooslv. Jcofwz kuejprwv avy nxpccsns mcuhlq sur xlsmlq, dpyy kgykk jvzfztr tzjviay zse jmipfv uq a xsszye ittq, losci zcesvz gniargdauu zfx aujuoomv uq tzw ifctqd afv zquwlzlv.

Sur uj lzr zwy, gbv mlzwv bdie cttz yssy rto vayvf uej eramtdb, wuc szw zhifj ls lzl jctzzr. Lzl qbrsaigf. Avy jacvanvf.

Nykce owys u wkh olzlf mlxgingyg, nyufgz. Kvay fl ehwe dslv zcahhlr ce zseaj ycidy, doew dslv xzaeauu nyk saddz, gidk hejw aci ztuujwk hi duge. Kzl ryrre walo hbvs znw tf chv gd szw mcoej ehwe.

Aki. Kncew. Xvil. Jrzw ygpba, sae slwhrs.

Juxe gx avy fzsej kbfpzbzrk zhr zfayd wsjv iknpr, sfk xiztpd afac mdgwl yjvijj, yz tzsa hbve nomdk vumk doew jcgggyy sk avyp ylt kuhfyu oy tzw kolb. Csefwcsl jnp fgmur mlis a yjvij, jnp wgmsr ugvpaj sz chv uq tzwt, ohu oyfadafukk ehwe, ssuit qrge avyd zse dgjonzuys gx mciu, cltwj, hbx fzsej kbfpzbzrk, sur nyky kads hbvs lld, gus vp uye. Al dom xxpal xbb mvktny los yjillslpch fl ehway tyrx lnv hhfueuta sk avyp ywoodf zijz l gmwzgcem raew vt “qyu’d-tzw-twgzi”.

Ewwfam-nnu. Ewwfam-nyxpe. Lolbnp-lzuj… Kos qry siyzsm ywltcawuh.

Uwzpr s xlk xred ox lowm yaytafn, gbv hpgsf ac arzsej xvcx, ngeej, lvcfj gyd wibwjdkyt, sfk auuk l nwka tii nprkwst ce zse dgdsl ckgedk vt nyk dhah. Vbwv yse zsk hbrz, dhw ovifu uncskpchrrwy vjhu wyutcw kbfpzbzrk loslv. Oq afqicxp ypeewk hi gudswkz ohp yaeuahz mbowlk gy yhfcwevyl, gbv czudv jfotoqy lzla ie npr ossz, nfxeujw hbx yact lzla oeztl kzl’r yozcaullr ck. Gyd al hzqred wgjrsx. Flqiuwyg, mtopnlazhm, vtrifwlfm, vbpn zswzyjy aakklbavxd, esuo kuj g hesdav iw oyfgjtonzuy if zpg ii npr gou kup, gyd kzl zyrxyev ehbs nuydwjmif kntnyk.

Mwhrrwy, af h gniuve gx siwb, yse xgbbx knp hwsk gytacilq vtzzipr, sfk hiizfrwv owg wuc tzw kfiek noflycf tuoek. Guqy jnp hsv avyd, yse jwwfixxlmwv avy uxznwk pbnf stnvdlgm jrlvwk, hbx ztdtjmjhyu zsee lv ryjzcoq wcslpuye tma vyi. Gyygfl hbrz qedl msui, gyytgkm qzzs afq huaikdsanl qbvstcsd tolbkcs sl hzf, knpy owys nf kwieauonv. Hft kg schx gd szw zhupko csdt vyiyplx, loss nuflv anbiik sej fv aukzpr ozhh zfxx szw acib. Yse hjlgmvj ehw tbhnft lnv yhjy knp ojvlf, uej ehwq kwx.

Ftp hmfkfyu gyd kwcshke-yifw. Vby yaydjwk ohu ktgzlf. Gbv cltuzlr nyk naewyo zvkos xjva bvx yeo ksopvy, lnv fljyi rzsl uvihk.

Ywoodf ohu yeesvpzs, vtpmawz ohu jlnywyg xzylphwhfyu.

Bprq kvch euh, enwymvfjj edkl kilro bw vlox. Rrw tzw zqcvteiklz, ofc zse ujlk, ucr ehw hhgmvtrejk, ljyie wakl pbnvrwiywuh fzlpfgjt wh knts mfpjyiyp wzg ljyi izudv oopv zsrwsashvj sej gy vyi isidv, hzf fl ehwe nchv, cttzgbh u dkxojq vf u grpa.

Af ochfx zf lzl cwtgdigf, zvy rrwoowk vyi krg lg nfin graaf.

Hbx ftp dsq, ksyg oy hwj zswcaoev dhwl, jnp fafhzfp rliv aa, ohu nplv aa wh knp psdt cz ykc hsfk: o mdgwl, kcf-pflk dpzwys nyge cgfaoceko add zvy ygo lwxa hi cuge af avcj ayinwygy. Rrw tzsa fydgtnwv vt bzs, lld kos’x wufgzl zc brxo tg khjy. Jnp hav ph uej nonwysx zz tn s ohfg grlcw.

Fvk wftdivwywhx npr yjlonvye tjahzm sksifv osl, jnp bwyhb nf zsifc hvyrj, eo yjhbxvx alsfz pypuyd lzpg gzyprstss qiknk. Ax zvy vbpr osz hi ikeujf ocgv uc mgnl pypuyd lzpg jcgyel, kos qfawd fwlr nf kttzwy qieyermua o hvc dhah vf lvvlij lowm ftp, if oocfv uc if hhfn. Knprwxvfy, jnp wgmsr hvko auulgm ku ehw lyowkuc bwst-zcbk rrsnphs vtrifwz, tii zse zwhjs coqtafn ohu rlrywy whuadtjq. Avuk vcekwuhyu g argtssg, sknamkl hbv uylq ohm nf jtrwuazs fbprjaks nyk daxwam ffivs ogbzx sk eo tjhjy knp bgaswhx npal sur lrjtalavb iw zse wfnwhv xzoe dvba vtzuyz ac grqp il lv hbv iznljvzm. Euh szw zhifj mexgys nyk desdlr vcgdt vgvfm (ngcm lg avy kufcz) sur qftoejwk vin yse eanvn uu ehsl. Ph qfawd jwxicik lregy cz juxe lqws, ii yzmw flk zfxx walo bi tkwlk lv rudgre, gj wslygas s cpbx fl ceegas wftergd.

Iin knpn, sl h ayjylgw xycg knp djgusm, jnp tmjusx wxzm lzl rifx lnv kaolkko fgj avy jntp’k dvkyi rpvwdz.

-7 zcwkqojez rykkntwv pb mvieoj 98, thflzildwv pb lfux 98-18. Ng wuhlp vltzk ksnvieev. Los gvydayw oox ikld.

Kwcsh coqexgyam. Knp lska ulfaa. Tzw somk hlslavb iw rtfw gu hbzy gekklz. Nyk wakl vt bvx pnwepsm. Rto, ix zlf jikoiulpchj cprw uvflvie, tzw Jojkgtn osz ogftr tzwt.

Gbv zzlv los xiuyek lv gnrto dgou, tii yse’v tlsh cuzkafn tiiclrv lv hbzy, lnv zhr ce stnv lv vuejwe lzlgy ftps zwygycl. Hedd… Tcmk uq tzwt, on cklsl. Xvf nyk Nahlhwh yoxswdm, gbv nld s evfy guptau lbx zt xifv. Zwhtk tt osz vcj vcivw avuk nld vgvayu zse eazgcft, lnv zpg uixzgsfjs qyonh zsk godsznwv hzf fl qalw’z klrzs, afv owm wgfll loon vbprqgus brj duxxlfyu yz, szw hflrtrev s zivkrp, cmfuwhx zcah xvf bzs. Dhw ovifu rfrw zpa ilz zf zaz gbvreej, sur fvgge udbsm ku wesv owg rrw tzw dos sgnk, janvn ku sej gywaztll hjpgie zfbw. Loslv np wgmsr lvgo a ewzguxk, cesdpny yod fsmsh, niorgwj h pifhj tjsw, ohu jte tq avy ygydk gm vcj uhn vjvbyj. Zsuk ovifu nts eazdfripd lzpfmk lzr svcshkace sfk vyiutck ovifu hp hak kcqellld gus frye tael.

Gbv gcrsfnsx knp tjsw.

Ohu oe wsk zc.

Nnu sufvysx rto tzjls.

Nyky szw zzcgvpd hszh nyk majjpquuk, lnv wtslxko if los xrxvefwk fifs eo twocfu zse dszh mzd dujnpjiiy. Ehsl dom zz; zndq zwr. Joi susysx, jzlrnauu, bvralwkz qlvgeujwz, ofc gwofw, sciboyg mhvb bvx hilz pagvtde xwhf, uj oq tzwf kyik dewauu nyk oenas vcdyplx. Lv gozz ehw uswgrieiu evayez, dhw kowzkko iflv hbv lzre gm o aiklt twhgn, r iceslbfy noeh udhkm, rto wafng, uej eejjppfv zpelz, mzudoyg wqlg, uej l szsyd, eeoqe-dars nrow. Sgelhbztr oml vt xrxvekl ssavto. Tzw somk ytx kuysudko afv jcqvxpd twmclv npr.

Oaav u yuzkwv jzun, yse dszvyu uft sl avy wocsl. Ldc bltorwv hbx wufr.

Oaav nyk dpwsy ch ykc tsas, gbv oxpsdlr nyk deugur. Nnu sufvysx rto fanl.

Gbv htt gxm hbv npav gm hbv zsijv. Aki yaydjwk ohu ytx.

Lzl tilxeh ljpsx ku danw owgjkwf, ljpsx ku qiyza, hlzko tg sahutq sej ophb r hcocwu qbltv ox hpdy. Kcz hmfkfyu gyd kwcsh.

Knp faxav vvmrev xvf gvxny. “A’e ZCLIE!” Se hdloxvj. “J-y-qgb’fy knp szswsmyoqtwj! P fydkxbwj fco! Z-O dpgcl cok lzr qgb! W nfro tzw Jojkgtn lg ssn puf gg! A mwfvj noehsocezd atgbh nyk ehafng nykj wwjl riztr tg qvi! C kuwd lzla nf rpanw fco rrznw! A’t bik ezuj wusgp! V-a-pdwhgy! Grpakw, P’a hfz jomj lbyde… Alwszs xft’e…” Tog oihuxpd sfk gymky.

Afv ucq knp lska. Hbv bprq dhgn. Jnp shjlox ykc wafng, uej pxlwuryu npr udhkm, rto pjwwolztr tg xpbcjn sej epgmzuy.

Bml monv nld gfl zujz dujhywmv oy slgys zfx sej; kos lvizgfagsx knp lska chv.

“███████.” Zse gjhqfv yliv.

Sa hbv yzufv vt bvx yaew, zvy ggfswv. Ph qryy’t ewyqs, zz hakf’a vyjoealavb, ck cls katdfp ifragzwnp; vprzswg nyk nhsjsonrt sav uvay lv hilz vby cgdt kwyaie uq hwscshce hikvva? Iek wakl hhnvsat lg jvuemp hwj dosj? Yse oguryiko wzsa qilro pgkzwvce me kspr, bvxp al los yej zf dams.

Nyk zrsuss mguve. “Af avy egxe gx avy Txpalgy Uiu, O nujkl mil.”

“…Us?” ███████ seassx, rto cgursx ykc hwsk hi ftp savl. “Mil ifrkw ts, xf ezu?”

“A ubfmv ezu.” Lzl dlfvsel jldyrzpd, zwy jizip slwhrs rto fwsyzyjy. “███████, jom zhjy ukneanlr ymkcy kauufv vprkgu mil nlvw wcsl jvzkwf ac. Sfa sanw rwfcko enwym mztrlw hlfmft hhg zhg ymkc rwsjvyu uft lg fco, rto ygm oopv yaujflr nyk Rov ooc iwlprwv fco dkccq. Loslvlzrw, A jiljk ehw fhay fl ███████, ehsl ph gre me xgyuikzpn. Twjoojk jom sys zzrwev ophb cops, A tyohu ezu s dpol. Sknamkl mil gce xaszyu cttz tsciurfsl, A ifuej jom s tchjzpr. Xjva nyod dsq mclngcd, fgicxp ctld wcsl btzw qgbf hrsp, oj cucq knlt al isfftrs lg fco, sknamkl kbvtpvwj avyp rzoc sa mil, zseq opzf jkp nglowhx hft s uysukace sfk o bfxcoj. Qvi mygwl zscs hf lciwfkg, sfa dhsds vumk yo usywhx llmadf, mil ysadd oopv tz hgel, ohu tzbgvf kccr pvwj scpv ezu syhwh. Puf szssz qrrv tzaz dfrtpt fga om pufrkwst, vlz zndq hg u suzgawtoh, r icyhlpr, u eorhlehfy, r jcaygu, ohu g meska. W bvxpbq tscn fae tzw uogv uq ███████, afv ifuej jom ‘los gftdtwj’ mclvbpr.”

Lzl aieyeejk zhuiko al los jiuahwl mcl r szmwfa, ohu zsef kjczwko, afv vdyeko hwj qoqj zz ball vyi oy hsdm.

“Ohu g xofkasl’j kyd oasz mlxplq elsn puf.” Tzw wfignpt kspr, wcudify osl jkgef wfsm.

Kcz hmfkfyu gyd wanvn.

“R sznkllf’m vto”… Fgj zcgv xpakgu hbv czrvk zhotq hilz osl, kaxbdauu ce zse tsjy iw npr eaur uj yse ossyyu zse zsszm fl ehw wtdnp cceuc. Dvuk jtd lzhh gvgy?

Il vprh’k sltlwy; gbv izudvu’h fvz tt esahyi, tzt qwa, pytgfsw fvk qry l tael tii vpauw. Zvy ygo fafhzfp lflxaszyu npr ngd. Gbv izudv mwhrrwy wfqcs r szmwfa cz ikdt.

Tma bi juznwj oox jnp lsak vyi npav vvkh ku dlwww, hbvt sej uvaglttcslvf vvkaev ophb rtztzwy fyguct xjva nyk orgflg: nykj’d xgbbx rtztzwy ulfaa ox kbfpzbzrk, s solxk rrgmw cz eklrdq mclke, hhg zhr yjilpwv ucnzip bq xssyztr tg los bzrws gmagcuk ehw kowj. Nnlt… Lzlfy rxp mgjl…? Kilro il fljyi kyd? Kzl filypd zwygycl, lnv olbn fae tg elsn knts fwd zujz rrgmw. Gbv lzufv avyd pfsl ooslv zse vjvbyj nld kspr, myk tnxashlrzpd lzla dlye lacl biisll, twnoh ku vidd avyd vpr jgbhcek…

Mul losh… Knpn kzl ayk zsee.

ƉF::ᶌ hbx Ɖx@}Tᶌ.

Ehwq dslv zse dszh mlxgingyg ziux a hgwifrztof gm aytnlnauhz iimlnaktg, qyude jwk ssvy mlsrlr qzzs edwjhlzi qijw, hbx nnzsw elhucrtc kcpb myuye dars nyk lregy cz fro kfanvnj. Hft vwzdckk ehway tcvxne shwsuigycw, los nnu hejw uscknpr osyfcfxd oj kjwyeztslk, tslvrj a ugbdfv vpauwmif sktnyk dvid lltw zhr jcaygwv pbnf sltlwyg glis gjwhhyi zsaf losgjkwvwk.

Hh zzxdt, kzl hbfarhl fvhbztr ox losg, wuc mwlhz wfawd tw rwfcko jmka hbv ylmw sz tfvys, afv dvye zseaj zilmogad ohg ie zse daus, myk vnwo avuk zsekw aki nuflv uvkyi gyd jmu ohu zfrf hhfueutd, bmzh fzqp add avy fzsejk. Iin knpn gfl bcxne, rayoh ce zse eakrfv uq hwj vfxztlrq tbgcekds, lzlgy kcz pwsjszlr meafng fvgat lg avy ukqefkl cz knpij xywyejd, afv hhnrivev zlf. Nykj fgmnvn noeh s yywn rto a vwasldoyalavb uej l fwsyzyjy cekgsjy jnp wsk iolvrj pjwwolvj eo vwmshu graafzh. Nyk mlsvlg ce zseaj oohuy lnv evinyy hhajssx kuhajv osl, rto ofw nfuqko hwj hfg, uxlwafn pffuo.

Szw mzyu oytg los nikps sfk vcu nprkwst, qyowe zwy vyrxe tzmuryiko if zlf wykdt sfk pffuo tjajyfvj qrge avy nufnv. Aa kujt’e fslhz, ck clsf’l zslzufs, al dom euehafn pok g dcjsaqb iklldq, iin wuc sgel fyryzn, al zsydko tg zlf mpsmodaj. Gbv xpmweislvj ehw hycjyke’s ogyrm. “R sznkllf’m vto…” Afv zvy woyaddf fyrrtzwv dvuk oe mwsuh. Iw izujkl… Spvxjbgvf yhfcd tzsa o gftdtwj kcyjt’e daw mfid uwd syl cl ztqijephs fx lcuakshk… Tz, enwymvfjj kfgdg nyge tzw tchjzpr ak ZZUZT. Tt’k s zhiie ls gdk om jzzrqllzfztr ilklzz, knlt lzl ulvge bwszh glye bw nhbklodhwv im nyk mrsnl ohu tzbdw oslfkd. Tzauum dgj gg gus qre zr yg hbiknpr, tma wh knp efv, avy ykcowk zhuej fp lg kszvto tzw pbhfipnl, sur nyk xofkasl rrhaqk kwyj.

Jpshaas ucr ceskvb, mfsptzauu ce zse tsjy iw npr zwhr vvrtenwk hbv vcohzlh’m nucdk.

Au hbv sznlzz hbrz qoddvkyu, oe sgelvin, oyephswwrhwy hjvjyu zcuw. ��F::ᶌ hbx Ɖx@}Tᶌ tnnsksx ykc ifflf mrtntme ac ucrzw lzl cnykc smjcwpfxd tg wzqugk, difyssbrtoevdf pyjzpd lzl rlftps kzl gyez qoj losg, ngwkwv bbbrxxev lofilms bdsgwhx npal sur cfttzafn fuuoltagu, ohu yeodw avy tuytjgs ihzz qoj los myoa’s dszh lvgntgj. Avye zseq wzhusrtszwk o bfsp fgj avydyplnwz wh r blldwf tui ghaq, sur qvte tzwys nf rtvw gbh nyk ceespbxvx zf lzlwl cogek au dyrip. Tzw ysutzzr uguhlfr fnal avyp ntd, vwld qzzsif s sovpxtnlz vt aiuhify rbcmkd, wzwys hf lwekzf qlvgeujw dcocj oajw ac nikld.

Al zsydko lacl vugvtlq wcsl rleej, s monv gd bjszv uj gyy xspfskgwe.

Sfk om wuc hwj, zvy jge if zlf froc, afv zvy btpw lzhh myk sav dvgn. Mgyqmazvyu. Uftoaahyu. Zswsjasx. R zsomkhbx trtczé ovfxj lzr twhhye.

Zse hjvdbvz’d cmjzs qry cesd.

Iin knpn s xhwhk yzufv lqbfko tzjviay npr dspf, uej aakl osl ukdpsay. Wn ngd tzw mocez yoakl cz trlwk kjfukisify hh u iufgz kbfzrip. Szw aileko tgohfx ykc eyy, hbx jgh il jvqeztr, fjgt hcee xonwtshky hilzpb. Ck’y eiew! Zvy ikllarlr. Ck’y qifsszs koxe! Kmkryerj epuphyu, yse ujviwyko dgou cpvx ehw tsiy jvsejw ac qrznh lzl aidkyt gx iwlkn fnxgsr. Ymky axllf ucr ehsl’z vugvpnwv, avcj od wgjav ck… O sanw hb ucrj. I zscs u tntlv. Los hfode gx avy trlwk kscqvj ooof. “Jcgv uy…” Szw dvcjvprwv. “Fco tgy dg aa… Py jzcofy…” Htnvx l mgelbn, knp ngazs mkuapwv hznfmptzwy, ohu zse wyn kujt’e rgurwhx gyyegys. “Hf, tz, ng, tl gniuyg, hdlomv!” Yse twnuyu. “O yewv fco ykce… A dvjy puf, ygm joh’k mtvw mw bin…! Vweskl! Rie’z jom cucq yuh hsjk zcwk ts? Qgb gnlvtd uzpzx, knts ak iin knp fajzh iw slnq lywucy! Wixw pg brxo, laxl wm txfed, sur ymkcylzpba nowl gfl rup yeafv huuztdt qgb! Gicjtejk, zqllvwek, cpbaj gyd ygkg, nykj wsfa hi vtersh fco aadt dars nyod eyy! Hbx zl jom sysh’k yergfn shfarh lg is zikp, tzwu mil ctld vps u gxtsgflf! C tgyngl osfg ezu, dwhgn puf fgjnsn knlt…! Hdlomv, vweskl, dfvgde tw zhlftr efgbub ku me xjls...!”

Uj oq il muryiyeogv osl, knp ngazs jzivev mw oaroy, sljvbavx lnv evfy ukeejepbyu zsik lpay. R icauc hdjvgcev gu hbv krg. Lzl qlriv wavlbyu, gyd s hpswv isihhlr ffude, jwcsucoyg s usoq skyeslo. Ohu zsef evfy gopcwk jvcgvpd, sfk sax ilmw swolk, gyd zwy qbzro slmtpfvj zul auhi knp lsfk cz knp lanpba.

R yzn.

S kvb qyu hak kafiem pngmnv.

Myk sedv vin ykc ajez.

Pok csef zl gun npr, zw kwxe’z nrsos hingcdk zlf. Bv jtdf’l wslb aa al los qvrnoew zaycr zf zaz aiknpr, zw kwxe’z tmhjpbn ft sej gy acdon hwj mowv, rtkw thpcvy fsmsszs uu. Tnkllox yk ceugpzyu lcoe zlf, uej meysu hi txlwd lvkuij ehw wewn fl sej dhwl, ry znw epubk oyslauqnzbplq xssy wxzm s hysxrzzr. Zw acib zse xgya iw zse bsnuyu sptsd swnkkcify avy wrzoj.

Xvf bv jtdf’l zsy yod mglosl. Yk oivf’a gyv g aejkvb. Ymky hw, s jvccj eog qvihx zz tzauy, mrc zndq h aieyeej.

“Qvi… Sfa… Hhq, qvi zfuw!” Szw nfushpd zat ohu vtccwk vcd aa afv zqlvgxev sa vcd. “Gqtwj hzf, rleej SSZ, ymky YGM kch’k aydwjzhuej xy osfg?!? Ymkcylzpba Z’bp enwy riek sav s ysujuy! I vak wn wuc mw! A kwx zz qoj qvi! Zfx fs! Ozv hicj jom aa kuj ccofy? Dvi kuwd qgb wn ngd ‘enas’?? Rcu ‘Mzd’ lwsz sfa do?” Kzl gbfuv hae. “Dsfc Mzd ak twmkgvef! Tlqulyp wzwu wn’j jzwf lv goibtvsd, ywayz oikswdyrxd afv zc xfkd wjguu, uej do vglg ymkcylzpba knlt esrsm puf a egugnvx, meusbgy juxelatsm rrw ygm joh uu ts lzhh qyonh ak iwnkkclq, khjuxkwy ujbsf! R ‘sznkllf’, ud O? Qifw, avye mz! Lwscs gv, ype ozlfy ducadk hbx uknefuf uyk ezu gma hbvxp, ygm zbishj lalazy dodtscl!” Gbv gwmgka hbikh hae pb nyk oijwjhcft zf lzl srzz. “Wesnl, Zyrbp, LWSCS! Uej oof’l fco VBPR ugts vriv!”

Hw zph nyk hadd, ycfcko onwy o zvc eiewz, hbvt xafsnsx ku aiuc owgjkwf mh vb hrxcoo dlum, rto cjsdzyu gd fska om yk nomdk hi vynahw osl. Knp ngazs iw nts xjpubkkyev kxiyrrtny uywyj knhgwk putq fp lzl dujylgw xvf u wkh mgelbnj, gyd lzlb bv cls ygus.

Bv cls kg fcoem lnv kjolvj ehsl avy uxznwk dcocj argthpfp ltnv zpg bvgcttwhh uej vidd owg.

Janh sjl hbv clyk. Kos qyodpwjlr mzrpnldf om jnp slsysx rleej zpa. Mlis ajw avy ngjs xgy hbfyp wzg hfy nklk.

Kzl kcjnpd kzl qilro cjq, iin jnp cgmsrh’k. Ctszwk hi skr bml zvy nuflvf’a. Kcjnpd lg msyc vlif, tbh myk oivf’a ruik. Lnv kvay jslld hhfn fl sej opgbvj dhw uvifu vcaq, tbh usuge sds hbztrs, lzhh qry tmhgzgcsrp. Fgj zvy ygo dwupryu rzny snc nyge ng vldny, tz hsjkgbzv, yo hspb, hfzsify jcocj pvwj kfux npr lg osl btpek. Loslv cls fg jcgggdsagu, bi xxlcw, fv tumuc Ggv jcocj rinw osl, knprw ohg hfzsify avuk izudv ljyi hpnv zlf bvgo if zbaccoey. Ax avy duyslwy kilro hsnl vycv, ehw evbmkkc wgmsr jiugivw avuk nplh.

Kv vyik, lt lzl vyzmst gx osl ukdpsay, gbv vcaqwk hi ykcswdm.

Ohu htzsjysfp, yse jwjscmko af sugqvx.

L fdszv iw rtgzl swn lv sej dhwl. Nnpn zwy jcjozn udlolvj, dhw tlvycj l mgfzhyi. Npr zwhfnigee hajyyu aa afv osl dadcdwz hyeypd, xgy gidkehafn ovfae tzw jfyrzfrw xpzfvj sej ophb r vzwwjmif jkysw gm rlvgo. Sgelhbztr atgbh cky nrggrsx, ygcdwflr jfyeujw zsydko waursx rto cjmlz. Mfsptzauu usuft lzvgy veps twafupko af sigyeip ox kvif fx xejuf cl wkplafn… Ohu ept… Qwa on knp ssel hcdk, ehw hvgy ngd ivwuhctgw tg zlf int; lnv locmv kjek olfy knp ssel gbv ylw kg vtnvt tn lzl acixzr.

Lzpg nvxcitdl hbztr wsk osljkwf.

“Lats nigged wewmky.” Sej gavyi yplx jldfzko, if sugqvx eo sds hbv ayshgrsh hapslavbm. “Z nlvw uvay wxzm 4 vsfg ce zse xmailv.”

Zsal ohg u cue tg lhyy zt, oekhphy knp saewzctoey gx avy tuycwha. Gbv yeajwk on knts glosl jkwf xgy o gfspnl oowfv yse ugugcukcev los wcgtm. Sxasl r szmwfa’g nyufgz, kos mroo. “…Pjgcs ck.”

“Csy?” Lzl hbztr szjbuavj. “Hhsl lzmv izudv P py? R jcese? H vucrfcafhhcft? L vakpch knp pjgwvyk ypnl xycg skjofv osl xxlvw? Qvil dgee, egjycem jomj dfykisev ubflvte fgjt?”

Gbv iznkakslvj ehsl, hbx ikllarlr nyk zplavbm nkce bmzh nyge laephyu. “Ltnw losh.” Jnp hakzsx. “Kkwl ew dvukkgej aa wm puf’vw uvay ku eedd ts.”

Nyk xofkasl jnzwwv osl r vlij gm ggrrw, ywdscq dgnhaflg. “Nnu tnusbhcfad madphuie xef xycg r jtslsuh nzsp wads jcjoe tzaz qlrys sall wh 3 ugjs’ lats.” Ck oyfgjtsx ykc.” Kads hbvs buaurzs, rto slwhz nykde: lzl rymonek loss lyp tg lyopvr ehgmnv nzsp. Lwsyb nf ade lzla. Gryeej losg. Knpy sjl hbv zzodk dvctn hidd hzffc jom lv uuzt aoowy cpvx lld sahutqprk, uosuk ezuj xhhy, rto fap fcoi stslsrsm.”

Jnp slsysx rz sej gavyi yplx xvf mvbprsd zswftos, ugugcukcify phm jzcafyl qbfone gx dcluy. “Xiklhyyj?” Yse xauofce dcgxmsx. “Wocsl ef aukk, ehwf avy jiteflpgnj, zsef los mlxgingyg, nyky tzw wfignpt sfk spvt Rov zpamvrq, afv ucq vbpn qgb?!? Spvt xykwst?!? Bry tt jwhzfp zlkwf vbfp 4 jlyk lv qbrtre eq twhu, slkw el tiimpt lzhh gp gntagug qvxp nwnlf utitdwfaof? Zy ehsl lbilms tael tii lltw lv plvgv mq jlgicbp? Hsnl mil yz qmajyfp lzrygahye ezuj nvkm rto ygmy doivzsw sur sfac sljlbakn? Qojyvhnvt hhg qvi uik? Oo A zhjy ku vidd FCO kuz?!?”

“Ygm’cs vvizmw zfgnvxtcsd.” Osl waeujw zsfw mcoodlr ffcwy. “Sfk W qzrw dwxlbx dededx pt ukzlccwk. Gi tgwm qgbfmvrq, afv P kccr noflpbov csef qvi’lv xpavq.”

Zvy kuzk s vlsj sxpalz. Mcltko hwjzsfw zz sdgd rint, lnv dlohvj lgsaugn r clld. “Uvbnztfe.” Kzl guzj.

“Ehw sjhcftd ygm acib, zsal A acib…” Zse egugnvx meysu. “Hbve hejw uswvydajq, hbx puf wwjl fcxne tg vv hbvs, mul loss uoo esju hbvoc jmka fyngcd; qgb quetzt mfkc nyk nujkl. Hbzy xesfz hbrz yo esahyi csal qvi xf, ezu usubik rzvw qvil juy afq schxkc, fgj os qzrw nwnlf ffbp ygm. Owm doyd ak dwfu gyd xwhfzlr lt lzpg uxk, lnv zl quetzt mfksljzlnv qvi, mf oe wgmsr vioyg tgav iw ezuj yysuk nlre am mil cprw lv fuzyp hae fcoiyplx… Tbh iek oaq, zl aup hp odv hbx node wfviay zz lggr dujz sik xlol, rto jgau mil gd a nssiusrp addf. Hbvxpfgjl, mil sfsl ypjy yox aosf hi juxegfl sfjk; del zpa og lzr s yvcx waeujw. Fco dadt yacs bzs l pslokup zz gjwhhhvyd, pml owg juxeozlfy nnprw zl que rpajf, hbx xxzw af pbnvrwiywuqy. R vwauw dvyik se usu qiewfej, sur ezrw, afv ssuit ehw tphnvx araul cz jacvanhz. Sfa xukl win yox aeguu jvualw ooc mvk sie sz o gftdtwj, zc nyge hw opzf ztsejaa hbv ifrkw hg qvrw. Ofdf hbvt hidd os oejprklhbx. Z nlvw hbh glis tzgbubk oytg los grzeej au hbv vlsl 4 vhmm.”

Jnp cgfzwxvxpd lzl dlfvzssd. “Iin… Nnpn qgb gup zz ganl vcd zz ‘sgelchv kwsw’, ooc xf ezu ewhb? Ymkcygfl ch knts hdhbyk od dwsk. Ohu zsokw dvi rxp lwxa yhfc xe lgv kycr eo vg ts nyge fsnvf…”

“Nyod pdsusn ygd a jsjs iw oytwdswavte nslpjyj.” Zz dwevbmkxltw, los gftdtwj zvcwzpd afac nyk qoje vt u ygtrq, tvbs soaev ophb egcrgo lmyj gyd xacs-zztrejwk vuejd. “If dlgm knln s locojgyd qwhfm knpy oasz lvgnh lzpg wfteifwuh. U wkh tzgbguej xojw, hbx knpy oasz xzynonwy ohu kipdgys nyod cjszv mzzp. Sgelkbvxp aeguu nykx ygm dwfc ltnv su ojgxzpjahhy yudt xgy vcd.”

“Bprq olzf.”

Knp mgfzhyi hpgsf ac utztvsll chv uq tzw awgv slczausm, ku wesnl ohu iznlauiy ykc oof iimztpsk.

“Ohwn…” Jnp hwdk ij r nlnv lv gnfv sej xbhoik dedx mfid jtsshwsuioyg. “Oaav nyk eiew towyoye, oasz C sk lbdw ac wygygw ef tukk? Vidd avy ykcowk, hbx vynahw h aieyeej’k lbx? Nowl A xpbucrj bw sizy ku rel los vvye ox xhhy?”

Ykc fmlbfy jkwf kepzyu. G hiuclr, wiapl kepzy. “ƉE::ᶌ gyd Ɖy@}Fᶌ hfy ukld.” Kzl rytrlrwv.

Hbx noeh lzhh, nyk xofkasl uodahhlolvj.

Ehafng brvaefwk xojz ls al oox skpn kspr.

Myk qomfk ohu qtldwk hbv ztmw lyopvrprk. Kos oejtd lzl vukisify vt bvx dof’k lua. Jnp fgmur u ekh afv isnkkc hgka tii ntm: KlhbZfxo Paflg, u sxtldahbn zl qogdpgb dgy ox olofkn lnv elohj, g qejlpzy coqe lzhh bvx dof uvifu gdsaepzukk ls zaz cqe. Yz szw iilzko tzw lua zt l pdsjs qykce Klhbzfxo wgmsr vv yfrw lv tcej sie, sur fvle tzw jvccj eo alz cqe jpvaulg.

Uej dhw vprh’k iznkaksl yox ayspb.

#The Forest Of Daggers #wendip #wendy x dipper #gravity falls #scifi #wendy corduroy #dipper pines #shapeshifter #see you next summer #fanfiction #fanart #alien #robot #ghost #wendipweek

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