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anihumans-official · 2 years

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anihumans chapter two, draft one

SPOILERS FOR THE OFFICIAL BOOK "ANIHUMANS: THE STORY BEGINS"

Thomas stared at his feet as his mother led him deep into the forest.

With teamwork, the small but thick leaves hid the sun, blanketing the forest with a constant nighttime. The trees whispered stories of ghosts through their remaining leaves, until one leaf finally gave in and let go of its wooden wire, letting the wind cradle it with its gentle breeze. The wind played games with the leaf, letting it dance around the trees, before gently laying it down on the forest floor. The gentle breeze felt like ghosts brushing against Thomas’ skin as he trudged through the blue leaf litter. Goosebumps spread along his arms in response.

“A-are you sure we’re going the right way?” Thomas asked quietly.

“Trust me,” Wish replied with a grin and a wink. They kept treading through the forest until they reached a wooden outhouse-shaped building.

Thomas froze a few feet behind his mother, scowling.

“This is it?” he muttered, gesturing toward the building. “This is the magical school you've been telling me about?”

“Thomas, trust me.” Wish slowly slipped off her bracelet with a grin, placing it into an indent in the door. The wood of the door molded around the bracelet, and the door soon omitted a click sound, like someone unlocked it. The wooden door abruptly swung open, leading into a dark staircase. The bottom stairs were swallowed by the blackness—Thomas could see nothing beyond.

“See? Magic,” Wish announced with a smug grin.

Thomas stood in awe, his jaw dropping. He slowly stepped toward the open door, peeking down into the engulfed staircase.

“What are you waiting for?” Wish exclaimed happily. “Go on!”

Thomas looked at her with a big grin and sped down the staircase.

He, too, was swallowed by the dark.

Once Thomas saw the light at the end of the tunnel, his pace picked up. The rays of the bright sun streamed into his golden eyes and he held up his hand to block them. Once his pupils adjusted, he began to take in his surroundings.

Thomas had joined a group of kids about his age, some older. They all looked just as confused and in awe as he was. They were surrounded by all sorts of animals. The triumphant sound of the excited calls painted some sort of a royal aura to their entrance as the new students scanned the school with disbelief all over their faces.

The campus was more of a royal garden than a school. The buildings looked like castles, and in front of the main building stood a tall marble fountain with a sculpture of a unicorn rearing up on its back legs halted in the middle.

“Welcome to Anihuman Academy!” announced a loud voice. Down flew a small bluejay—but just before it landed it was surrounded by a blue mist, and suddenly a tall man in a light blue suit replaced the bird, like it was never there.

“I’m Mr. Robinson, your principal here at this school. Here you will learn simple core subjects such as math and science, but also you will learn how to control your wonderful gift!” the man explained. “We do not use our gift for evil, but for the good of our kind.”

Mr. Robinson gestured to the marble fountain, stepping around it. A plaque caught Thomas’ attention—

OUR FOUNDER

ALEXANDER KESTLE

KEEPER OF ANIHUMAN KIND

“This is the monument of our founder, Alexander Kestle. He was the first and only Anihuman, until he blessed the royal Kestle family with the highest honor of being unicorn Anihumans. The Kestle family holds Anihuman kind’s only source of magic—the Kestle horn.” explained Mr. Robinson. A chorus of ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ could be heard throughout the group as the principal ran his fingertips down the marble unicorn horn.

“If the horn was to be destroyed, all Anihumans would lose their gift. The Kestle family have protected the horn for years, and they’ve done quite a wonderful job. Now,” Mr. Robinson interrupted himself by clapping his hands together, “follow me to your classes.”

Thomas stuck near the outskirts of the gaggle as they filed through the wooden double doors. The group found themselves in the lobby, where two large imperial staircases framed a long hallway. A large circular carpet with yellow rings around the edges rested in the middle, and a wooden plaque with

ANIHUMAN ACADEMY

carved into it was suspended on the wooden railing where the staircases lead. The letters were lined with gold, and they glittered in the sun that spilled through the two windows above the doors.

Thomas watched as a larger woman filed in beside Mr. Robinson. She sported a beige dress and polished brown shoes. Her hair was graying and styled in a bob cut down to her shoulders, and gray glasses connected to a gold beaded chain framed her round face.

“Welcome everyone! I’m Ms. Cecilia, your vice principal. Now, some Anihumans here may be nocturnal opposed to diurnal, like me, which means I wake up when the sun sets and go to sleep as it rises. Please follow me if you fit this description.”

Mutters flowed over the group, before everyone fell silent when Thomas awkwardly isolated himself. He felt all their eyes burning into his back as he followed Ms. Cecilia.

“Guess I’m the only nocturnal,” Thomas thought as Ms. Cecilia led him out of the building.

“Your father told me you’d be attending,” she began as they walked. “So I’ve set up somewhat of a.. tour guide for you.”

“I’m, uh.. I’m honored,” replied Thomas.

“I’m glad,” Ms. Cecilia stated with a warm smile. “So.. you’re an owl?”

“Great horned owl, yes,” corrected Thomas.

Ms. Cecilia chuckled. “I see.”

“What about you?” Thomas asked. “What’s your animal?”

“I’m an opossum.”

“...A what now?”

The woman replied with a hearty laugh. “You’ll see later, honey. Anyway, we’re here!”

The building they stood in front of was similar to the main building, but much smaller, and a sign above the double doors read “NOCTURNALS” in gold-lined letters.

“It’s day at the moment, so you won’t be attending your classes just yet. But you’re in luck, because our first week at school is an animal week.”

“Animal week? What do you mean?” questioned Thomas.

Ms. Cecilia cleared her throat and began. “Our school switches every week. Our first week is all animal classes so the new students can get used to their new form. Next week will be all human classes, and on weekends students are free to whatever sleeping schedule you choose.”

“How will I switch my sleeping schedule so quickly?”

“It comes naturally once you change your form,” she explained. “Anyway, now that you’ve seen your building, we can head back to the main hall to meet your tour guide.”

Thomas nodded as he followed the woman. As he scanned his surroundings, he realized this was the first time he let them sink in.. and they were beautiful. Trees lined the campus, all the way around, followed by thousands of different flowers. The blinding yellow sun painted the forest with warmth and life—it was a stark contrast to the dreary outerworld that was above the portal.

“Your guide’s name is Skylar Maxwell,” Ms. Cecilia began, startling Thomas out of his thoughts. “She should be out here soon-”

“‘Sup.”

Ms. Cecilia yelped in fright as a tan wolf appeared behind the two. The wolf stifled a laugh as Ms. Cecilia smiled through gritted teeth.

“And here she is. Skylar, meet Thomas. Thomas, meet Skylar.” The woman quickly left with a wave, swiftly transforming into an opossum and scurrying away, leaving Thomas and Skylar alone.

Skylar switched her form into a human and looked Thomas up and down. The girl towered over Thomas, and she had fair skin and freckles littering her whole body. Her long caramel colored hair was tied up in a wavy ponytail, and she wore a green t-shirt and jean shortalls. “Hey, nerd,” she scoffed nonchalantly. “Ready for the tour?”

Thomas fixed his glasses and cleared his throat. “Uh-.. sure. Yeah. Sounds exciting.”

“Exciting. Sure.” Skylar winced as the two made their way to the main hall again. “The animal classes are exciting, but the human classes.. are.. less exciting.”

Thomas kept quiet as he followed Skylar down the long wooden hallway. Classrooms lined the walls, along with a pair of two elevators near the archway.

Skylar froze, and turned around to face the brown-haired boy behind her.

“I’m gonna keep this as simple as possible.”

#anihumans official story #ANIHUMANS SPOILERS #draft one #anihumans

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impyssadobsessions · 2 years

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At first things were going dandy for Tim and Cass. They were just making it up the staircase, using the grappling hook to speed up the time. They were racing each other to the top. Cass had initiated the challenge by grappling up first and making a peace out sign, as a tease. Tim following behind, until a vulture popped out of the wall while they were scaling up. Cass swung and hid behind the railing at the top while Tim had to drop down and hide under the stairs a floor below. “I thought I heard something.” The vulture huffed glancing around, with squinting eyes. He flapped their for a moment, Cass preparing to shoot it, while Tim was shaking his head no at her. They both rolled back into hiding when the vulture turned to glance their way again, with sigh. “eh.. I'm getting to old for this.”

“Better than being turned into goo,” Said another one as it flew through the wall out by Tim, not having noticed him at all. Tim tried to stay low and out of sight, crouching towards the nearest door. Hoping to sneak behind it. He motioned to Cass what he was doing, who gave the thumbs up. She kept her blaster trained on the two ghostly birds. “At least as goo we wouldn't have to hear about his backstory for the hundredth time. I'm three thousand years old and I've never repeated a story as much as he done.” “That's because you can't remember them all. Feather brain.” “Who are you calling a feather brain-” Tim cursed as the door echoed in the stair way. He was afraid of that, but waiting on the old ghost vultures wasn't ideal either. So he swiftly ran for it, trying to create as large of a distance as he could. He swerved around corners, hoping to lose the trail. “Red Robin, you think you can help me with this?” Tim heard over the comms. “Uh... little busy-” He tried to reply in a whisper but was interrupted by a vulture screaming in the halls. “INTRUDER! INTRUDER!” Tim stiffened up his shoulders then he moved trying to stay away from the noise. “What was that?” Batman asked. “Vultures. Ghost vultures, they talk unlike the other animal ghost we found.” Tim keeping his voice to a whisper. “Do they have a stupid fez hats?” Danny asked, loud enough to be clearly heard over the comm. “Uh... yes?” “Frootloop employs them for his schemes, he does that with a lot of ghosts. They're push overs though... as long as you don't let them peck at your face.” “Noted.” “Is Orphan still with you?” Dick asked. “No, we got separated. I don't know what floor I'm stuck on. I think the coast is clear.” Tim peaked around the corner trying to double check. The hall was empty and he couldn't hear the birds anymore. He wondered if they went after Cass. Tim took the time to examined where he was, he couldn't read the writing on the wall. He stood up fully, deciding to peak into the room beside the writing. The room was filled, floor to ceiling with cages. Most were empty, some held glowing green rats. Just one or two filled with wild game. Damian would be furious if he caught sight of this. “Red Robin?” Batman called from the com. Tim must have went too quiet. Bruce, when not in the action becomes more paranoid then ever. “Still here. Just came across one of the rooms, where he kept all the animals in. I'm guessing before most of them became ghosts. Most of the cages are empty, except for some ghost-wait are they ghost? Green maybe ghost rats, a couple rabbits, and a deer.” “Anything else?” “Nothing to note.” Tim stated as he passed by the cages, examining the room. “Think you have enough time to help me decode these files. I thought they were in ghost, but Danny says they're just corrupted. I did a restore, but the files are left unchanged. However, I can open source codes for it.” Dick explained quickly. “So it was corrupted manually?” “Way its looking, but it gets stranger, its still not in English. The characters are though.” Tim hummed as he stood by the rats. “Probably made it so that each letter is at least one letter off from another.” “Must have an easy way of scrambling it, and unscrambling it then.” Typing could be heard over the com. “Might be hidden in the file itself-” Tim was walking as he spoke, until his foot accidentally bonked a cage. It caused the animals to screech with life, “Shhhhhh shhh-” “Ah! I knew you couldn't keep things quiet for long, little badger.” The voice silenced the animals as it echoed from the hall. He sounded like a smug bastard, Tim noted. “Plasmius.” Danny's voice was heard over the comms. Tim looked for a way out, taking another door into a back room. It had an operation like table and straps, a giant spot light in the center. Tim did not like the looks of this room, or being trapped in it. There wasn't any other exit points, none that didn't look like a chute. Probably to an incinerator, either way, he wasn't testing his luck. He pressed himself against the wall where

the door was, hoping to use the door as cover and run out. “Daniel? Playing hide and seek are we? Honestly, aren't you to old for that?” Plasmius phased through the door, reminding Tim that ghosts didn't need doors a little too late. Though thanks to the lighting in the room, the darkness concealed Plasmius's peripheral. Plasmius growled, “I can smell that retched stench off of yooouu-” Plasmius spun around only to see the door swinging back and fourth. The chase was on. Tim ran out of the two rooms and trying to make his way back to the stairwell, or at least give Plasmius a run around to buy everyone more time. He wasn't sure how well that'll work considering the ghost could fly through walls. He kept hand on his blaster just in case.

-----owo----

Dick frowned, as he continued to work on the computer. Keeping an ear open, for any signs that Tim needed help. He kept his voice low, “We don't have much time until Plasmius figures out the truth.” Jason gave a nod, then nudged Danny to help him look around more. Danny stared at him with a defying, skeptical look. He was ready to run off to fight. Kid had plenty of spunk, even when constantly on his death bed. “Red Robin has a knack for not dying, unlike us. He'll be fine, but we need your help being our local ghost informative.” Danny raised a brow, but by his cheeks seem to be trying to suppress a smirk. He hesitated before giving a sigh and looking around. Jason was relieved, usually he was the one needing to have his impulses checked.. strange having to keep someone else's. They explored the room, Danny avoiding the capsules. He had enough looking at them. He didn't want to see his face staring back at him, again. He doubted he be able to look at a mirror anytime soon after this either. Danny felt a pull on his chest, he pressed his hands on the wall. Something was behind it. It felt like a- Danny glanced for a door or any indication of opening one. “Access denied-” A voice that sounded like his mom chimed as a sheet of metal glowed beside him. He adjusted his sight to see in the dark, them glowing a faint green. He could see the built in panel better. “What you found, spirit?” Danny stuck his tongue out at the nickname, not that Jason could see it behind the mask. “I prefer being called Phantom myself. Back room, there's a hand scanner.” “Phantom? Is it like your hero name?” Jason walking over to check the wall, tapping on it. Judging if it was easier to blow a hole in it or trying to hack the scanner. Danny jolted, rubbing his arm. “Heh. I guess... Towns people might have different opinions.” “Do you protect people?” “Uh.. yes.” Often. “Do you fight anyone that harms others?” “Yes....?” “Then you're a hero.” “I think you're simplifying it.” “I think you're over complicating it.” Jason was simplifying it, as he knew he was more of the antihero type himself. “People often don't appreciate others until they lose them. The fact you're still trying says a lot, kid.” “Do any of you have to deal with the town hating you?” “............I'm not considered a hero by all, either. Not that I want to be. I want people to know I have a line, and not to fucking cross it.” Jason managed to pop out the panel from the wall, with a knife. “Do you protect people?” “You're not turning this around on me-” “Do you?” “Sometimes..” “Do you fight anyone that harms others?” “Depends who it is and fight is an underwhelming word.” Jason prefer beat the shit out of them. “Counts. You're a hero.” “Not how it works kid-” “You're just over complicating it.” Danny said with cheeky tone. “Smartass.” Jason ruffling Danny's hair then shoving it gently from him. “It's not the same. I've killed people.” “And one of my best friends killed me.” “Accidents don't count.” Jason grunted as he fiddled with the wiring. “Second time wasn't.” Danny muttered looking off to the side. Jason paused, feeling heat rise. “Second.. time?” “Yeah, buuuttt I only remembered it once.” As if that dampened the scenario any. “Sam made a wish while the genie ghost was in town, long story short. I wasn't Phantom and Amity needed one, so she recreated how I died. Got a cool logo out of it.” “............” This kid was trying to kill him. Jason could feel water boiling in his veins. “..Sometimes I want to lash out at her for it, but I know she feels guilty about it. I think it be better if we talk, but one, feelings what are they? And two.. I don't think she could handle one.” Danny was playing it off. Awkward silence fell between them, as Jason tried to calm himself. He focused on the task, mindlessly. Danny felt bad for mentioning it now. Internally cursing at himself. “You should tell her, Danny.” Dick spoke. Reminding the two that their conversation was indeed not private. Jason cursed, remembering Bruce was listening in too. “Also, I

found out how to get into the files. Despite all the new tech, he likes doing things the old fashion way, huh?” Dick was grateful to. “Yeah, ghosts tend to stay stuck in the past. Kind of our nature.” Danny semi joked as he walked over to Dick. Jason stayed put, working on the wiring still. The line not loosing significance on him. Danny spoke like there was always a joke. It made Jay wonder if he was a bit more ghostly than zombie, as what Danny mentioned.. felt eerily similar. Maybe it was a dead thing. They heard static of a com turn on, as Batman started to scold. “Robin! I told you not-” “Father, would you like to explain why you've compromised our identities by outing Richard's name.” “Pfft.” Jason choked on a laugh that tried to burst out. “B, did what?” Steph could be heard faintly over the comms. He guessed where there was more interference where they were. Jazz was heard in the distance, Damian hissing. “That is not an excuse!” “Wait, Baby bird. What do you mean?” Dick asked as Danny peaked his head around to look at the files. “Means, the Fenton girl knows.” “Jazz knows what? Wait! Is she with you, is she ok? How hard do I need to hit Vlad in the face?” Hearing other people on their comms, must have been out of Danny's hearing, at least from what distance he was when they spoke. “She says she's fine, and that she kicked him in the groin earlier. Which I can confirm, did indeed happen.” Danny let out a breath in relief with a bit of a chuckle. “Great. That. You. All.... are... good..” Tim chimed panting. He didn't think he could keep this up much longer. Once or twice, he had to shoot at Plasmius to get by. Luckily, they were duplicates so he was able to keep the element of surprise. “Red Robin, what's your situation? Do you need back up?” “I-” “Finally cornered you, Little Bad-Wait, you're not Daniel!?” Shit. owo Plasmius floated from his spot, staring down at Red Robin who was stuck at an end of a hall. He had been giving Plasmius a run around through doors and corridors, but he could only run for so long. “Uhhhh, no. But I can leave a message?” Tim whipped out his blaster, ready to defend. Plasmius seemed to still be in shock at finding out Danny wasn't the only one running around. He growled, eyes glowing red, as his hands charged with similar color. Then he howled in pain, dissolving into goo from a struck of green. Cass standing in his place, spinning her green staff. She gave a nod to Tim, who let out a breath in relief. She must have been taking out the duplicates and ghost while he was on the run. “Report?” Batman was going to have his share of heart attacks when this was all over. “Orphan took out the duplicate. Plasmius knows we're here.” Tim sighed. “Hurry up and find their parents.” “Jasmine thinks she saw them a few floors down, we're going to start looking on the 8th floor.” Damian stated, as footsteps were heard. “Jasmine? Not girl Fenton?” Jason teased. “Don't be ridiculous. It be tiresome to keep referring to her as Fenton or girl Fenton, when they are all Fentons.” “And not being slightly impressed she figured out your identity has anything to do with it?” “It was partially your fault that she-” “Enough.” Batman grunted. “Me and Orphan are on our way.” Tim nodded to Cass in agreement to start running, as they made their way back to the stairway. “We'll finish up here and meet you guys upstairs.” Dick stated. “Let us know if you need extra hands.” “Fruitloop will have clones of himself all over the place.” Danny grumbled, as he was being held back. “More than he had?” Tim groaned. He was already tired of this ghost. Cass just chuckling.

#danny fenton #danny phantom #danny phantom crossover #batman crossover #dc crossover #batman #jason todd #dick grayson #tim drake #cassandra cain #jazz fenton #damian wayne #vlad masters #vlad plasmius #vacation crashers #fanfic #batfam #batfamily

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endless-minds · 2 years

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WIP Title tag game!

I was tagged by @dramaticvoiceover! Thanks for the tag!

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Oh boy. All of them?? D-do you know how many I have?? We are going to be here for a while, bro.

Ok well here’s the WIPs I’ve at least mentioned on this blog:

Samantha & Yuki

Book 1: A Call to Adventure

Untitled S&Y Book 2

A Normal Story

Ashes

Inside

And here’s... all the others:

Cuentos aztecas modernas (Modern Aztec Tales)

Ayer el mundo se murió (The World Died Yesterday)

The Monsters on Forrest Street

A Road to Somewhere

The Rise of Mitalun

Fourteen

What Lies Ahead

Roadrunner

Dreams Long Gone

Gifted

Breaking the Fourth Wall

that one story with the mage and the robot

the story with the bug duo (them!)

the BIRD PEOPLES YO

that one other story with the guardians

that new story with the ghosts

that other story that is totally not a ripoff of another game’s story

I tag...oh boy...uhh @writing-is-a-martial-art, @asomeoneperson, @abalonetea, @ink-flavored, @quilloftheclouds, @writing-with-melon, @corishadowfang, @lekhaisprocrastinating, @odysseywritings, @pagesofcursive, @galaxy-writer, @livvywrites, @keyboardandquill, @lowslore, @kudzupocalypse, @ratracechronicler, @henrike-does-writing-sometimes, @a-completely-normal-writer, @writerfae, @zmwrites, and @wildswrites. -wheeze- NO PRESSURE, IF YOU DON’T WANNA DO IT, YOU DON’T HAVE TO AND THAT IS OK!!! <3

#wip tag game #tag game #my wips #my many many wips #too many wips

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sttngfashion · 3 years

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5.26 and 6.1 - Time’s Arrow

Oh my god. Y’all. It’s a new Fashion It So post. In the year of our Picard 2020. Yes.

For literal years, Charlie and I have been like UGH WE NEED TO DO TIME’S ARROW PARTS 1 AND 2 BUT IT’S JUST SUCH A MONSTER.

Well, I’m doing a complete rewatch of the series with my partner and we just got to these two, so IT IS TIME.

We open in a cave in San Francisco, where Data and Picard are checking something out:

Rent for the cave is $6,000 per month

Showing them around is this guy in a Science Outfit:

He’s ready to go night biking

We’ve seen this look before in both Silicon Avatar and Devil’s Due, and it’s functional, yet cute. Basically a windbreaker in jumpsuit form.

They find a couple of items in the cave, including a pocket watch from 1889 and also:

I left my head in San Francisco

IT’S DATA’S HEAD!!! And it’s been there for FIVE HUNDRED YEARS. What could have caused this? And why is Data’s head so absolutely terrifying?

Is that fondant

This head is, in a word, haunting. The 2020 of heads.

Data and Geordi chat in Ten-Forward about what the presence of Data’s head in the cave means. Data says it means he’s mortal; that someday he will die, and that’s comforting. Spoiler alert: that’s not what it means. But it’s a nice conversation.

Also, Guinan is here!!!

Merlot My God!!

Or maybe: Burgundy-lightful!! Or perhaps: De-Crimson-alize Sex Work!! Okay that last one was a stretch but I really think I missed my calling as a nail polish shade namer.

Anyway, she’s here in her classic look of a pizza-sized hat and a flowing gown/coat/top/robe. The collar here is a little too close to a mock turtleneck for my liking and honestly - this is a little staid for our friend Guinan. I want a TEXTURE or a SWEEP or some WIDE RIBBING or some PLEATS. Don’t worry, though...she will get plenty more later.

Then there’s some plot which frankly we DO NOT HAVE TIME to get into but let’s just say: the away team goes to a planet, there’s a temporal disturbance, and Data ends up here:

Huge mood

Where are we? Or should I say WHEN are we??

Well that old-timey font is a good clue...also the horse

Are we in the Old West land of an off-brand Disneyworld? Are we going to ride something called Large Lightning Mesa Train Tracks? What colorful characters will we meet here?

Winner of 1893’s Mustache Medal

This type of ‘stache is called a Fu Manchu, after the character Dr. Fu Manchu. It’s not...a great look? But it is memorable, which is sometimes enough. He’s also wearing a simple black cap, probably made of silk. He’s keeping it cazh.

So where are we?

SAN FRANCISCO, OPEN YOUR GOLDEN GATE / YOU’LL LET NOBODY WAIT / OUTSIDE YOUR DOOR

Yes, it’s San Francisco. And it’s *eyes popping out of head like a cartoon wolf seeing a busty babe* 1893!!!! That temporal disturbance was...disturbing.

So who else do we have hanging out?

Please check out our Vaudeville act, Knit Cap ‘n’ Bowly

These dudes understand those famous Bay Area MICROCLIMATES, amirite? We’ve got a Henley. We’ve got a buttondown. We’ve got a vest. We’ve got a coat. No matter which way the thermometer decides to go, THEY ARE READY. Also loving the pop of forest green on Knit Cap’s knit cap.

We also have a 49er:

No, it’s not Steve Young. I googled “famous 49ers” to complete this joke so if there is a more famous 49er please let me know

It’s a literal 49er. Since it’s 1893, this guy’s been hanging around in town for a while, and he’s also familiar with the layering techniques one must master if one is to conquer the Bay Area’s climate. He also has a kicky Colonel Sanders-type tie. He asks Data for money and gives him a few panhandling tips. He’s chill. We like him. But don’t get too attached if you know what I mean!!!!

Data decides he needs somewhere to stay, so he finds a hotel:

Brian.

Why is this so funny to me. Brian. Why would you name your hotel Brian. Brian!!!! I know it’s a last name but like...Brian. HOTEL BRIAN.

This bellhop’s name is not Brian:

Where’s your hat, bro

He’s giving us a classic bellhop look, complete with too many buttons. He gives Data the very important information that there’s a poker game happening in the back of the hotel, which means: Data is about to be RICH rich.

The poker game includes a few good looks:

Louie Anderson IS Wolverine IN a Lands’ End barn coat

Two plaids? Sir...I salute you

Colonel Sanders Goes to Carnaval

Data, of course, wipes the floor with them so hard that he wins their clothes:

Didn’t get that barn coat tho

Yes, that’s the actual vest and the actual hat of those guys from the previous scene. Oh, I love it. I love Data in a vest over his uniform and I love Data with a feather in his cap. Let’s call it macaroni.

Meanwhile, out on the street, the plot is happening:

Beige: inescapable

This is our first taste of the decadent 1890’s sleeves that appear in this episode, and these aren’t even the best sleeves!! These are an amuse-bouche of sleeves. An armuse-bouche, if you will.

Anyway, these two are aliens disguised as humans who are here to steal the 49er’s life energy.

Pew pew pew

I told you not to get attached!!!

Back on the Enterprise, Guinan is doing mixology:

She would never call it something as stupid as mixology though

She tells Picard that he needs to go check out the temporal disturbance, too, even though captains don’t normally go on away missions, and then she gives him this look:

It’s that serious

When Guinan looks at you like this, you do what she says.

Now this outfit is much better than the earlier one. We have some pleated sleeves, which I didn’t even think was a thing you could DO. We have some sort of functional(?) strap(??) across the front. We even have matching fingerless gloves which always make a look A LOOK. And if Picard wasn’t sure whether he needed to go on this away mission, she then gives him THIS look:

Okay now it’s REALLY serious

Back in 1893, Data is making something:

It’s actually just a really complicated and large music box that plays “I Left My Head in San Francisco”

He’s gotten his hands on some more period-appropriate clothing, including a bow tie and a vest. Since he’s not wearing arm garters and his sleeves appear to be the correct length for his arms, we can conclude that the shirt was custom-made, not ready-made, because Data is now a baller due to his poker earnings.

Then, Data sees this in the paper:

I know her!! From work!!!!

Yes, it’s Guinan. In 1893. In a hat!!!!

We cut to the literary reception, which is honestly not as well-attended as I thought it would be, considering it got a GIANT photo of Guinan on page THREE of the paper, but okay. And who should we spy there but:

You’ll love my secret blend of 11 herbs and spices

No, it’s not Colonel Sanders. (Sorry, I really have Colonel Sanders on the brain because of that Lifetime movie.) It’s Samuel Clements, AKA Mark Twain. I had an English teacher in high school who explained the origin of his pseudonym (it indicates a mark of two fathoms, aka twelve feet, on a steamboat) and for some reason she shouted MAAAARK TWAAAAAIN when she told us that story so now her delivery of that line is in my head until I die I guess.

Anyway, it’s Mark Twain.

He’s wearing his iconic white linen suit with a black bow tie, and he’s also wearing a lot of prosthetics, because the actor playing him (Jerry Hardin, AKA Deep Throat from The X-Files AKA Melora Hardin AKA Jan Levinson-Gould’s dad) (was that too many AKAs) (you get it, right?) didn’t look enough like Mark Twain, I guess? In conclusion: what if eyebrow wigs were a thing?

Twain is having a chit chat with “Madame Guinan,” who is wearing what can only be called a sumptuous gown:

It’s 11:30 and the gown is sumptin’ sumptin’

There are so many ELEMENTS to this look! First of all: the color. Royal purple. Fit for a queen. Appropriate.

Then: those sleeves! These sleeves are known as “leg of mutton sleeves” because they KIND OF look like a leg of mutton. Have you ever seen a leg of mutton? I haven’t. I’ve only seen these sleeves. Plus they have a stripe?? No, I don’t know why, but I LOVE IT.

The cuffs and the cravat bring this from “dress” to “lewk.” Top it all off with this hat and you have a true 1893 mood.

What bird is that feather even from

We get a few good extra looks in this scene as well:

Pink Lady is NOT wearing a corset

Look, sometimes you don’t have enough period-appropriate undergarments for all the background people and that’s fine. But I WILL notice.

Is that Loretta Lynn

I am loving all of this! That purple dress is fantastic, those stripes? I die. Military man has some fun flair on his shoulder, and there is a dude in a beautiful turban back there. Plus, another Black lady in addition to Guinan and That One Ensign Who Is On The Bridge Sometimes.

Data rolls in to the literary event in a different suit with a CRAVAT:

Craving a cravat

Data is like “we serve together on the same starship in the 24th century” and Guinan is like “huh” but then she’s like “okay” which...I’m not sure if I would believe that? But let’s just say it’s fine.

Over in the 24th century, the literal entire bridge crew is checking out the temporal disturbance and I DON’T LIKE THIS AT ALL:

Blue Man Group...on ACID

These beings are like ghosts but also like Dr. Manhattan but also like pure energy.

Then everyone goes through the temporal disturbance AND THE SEASON ENDS.

Fortunately for you, this post will continue...right now.

Okay, so we’re back in San Francisco in 1893. You can tell by the horses:

Also the fruit carts

Samuel Clemens is strolling around with a reporter, telling him that he has a great story for him that involves time travelers and, like, protecting the nation.

Here’s the thing about this episode’s version of Mark Twain: he’s kind of a dick. Was the real Mark Twain kind of a dick? I just feel like Mark Twain should be JAZZED about meeting time travelers and not acting like a fuckin’ time cop* and trying to put the Enterprise crew on blast.

Anyway I love his double-breasted vest.

See my vest

The reporter’s hat is technically period-accurate, but that style is SO associated with the 1930s-1950s that I would have gone with something else. He looks cute though.

Meanwhile, Data is wearing a three-piece suit:

My positronic olfactory synapses are interpreting something as...a fart

I hate brown, but this is fine.

Additionally, the beige baddies from before are back and this time, they’ve got a SNAKE CANE:

Love the snake cane, hate how they suck the life out of people

But we are not here for them, we are here to see our faves in period clothing. Our first look is at Riker, who is dressed as an actual cop, not a time cop like Mark Twain:

The past just had...so many buttons

I guess if you’re a time-traveling white man there are worse disguises than a cop. But WHERE DID HE GET THIS UNIFORM? I choose to believe that he found a cop with a similar large handsome body to his own and beat the shit out of him and stole his clothes. Now we can all enjoy imagining a cop being beat up.

The badge that Riker is wearing is a great historical detail; the SFPD started wearing them in 1886 and are reportedly the first law enforcement agency to have worn the seven-pointed star, which is now a common shape among sheriff’s departments across the United States.

But let’s move on to a better look: Dr. Beverly Crusher:

Curlz MT

Okay, now I have more questions. Beverly obviously wouldn’t beat someone up for their clothes, so where did SHE get HER outfit? And who did her hair? Did she do her OWN hair? Where did she get a curling iron? Does she know how to use a curling iron? Was it one of those ones that’s actually made of iron that you have to heat up in a fireplace?

We will get answers to zero (0) of these questions.

We actually get a much better look at her dress later, so let’s focus on that cloak!!! I love it and I also love her hat. Okay, I guess I had less to say about those than I thought.

Bev and Will, along with the rest of the officers, have somehow procured a room/apartment in some lady’s lodging house. It’s cute!

They gave it 5 stars on AirBnB

This also raises questions. How did they get this room? How many bedrooms does it have? Are they sharing one large bed? If so, who has to sleep crossways at the foot of the bed and why is it Geordi? We will get zero answers to these questions as well, so let’s move on to arguably the hottest costume in this two-parter:

I’ll be in Holodeck 4

Whewwwwwww. He’s giving us a rolled sleeve. He’s giving us a casual tweed vest. The pants? They’re perfect. And he KNOWS how that slouch is working. It’s working VERY well. But the Irish landlady? She’s having NONE OF IT.

Absolutely NO nonsense

She needs the rent, but Picard charms her and she leaves. So I guess that’s how they got the room. Her look is knitwear-forward:

Eileen Fisher does sound like an Irish name

She’s got a shawl AND a cardigan! The cozy factor is OFF THE CHARTS. She also has a brooch, because a touch of fancy is always welcome. I will say that her hair is a little more fashion-forward than I’d expect for a woman of her age and station. This is straight up 1890s hair, and she would probably still be rocking an 1860s look, which isn’t as sweepy and would likely involve more braids. Still, she looks lovely.

Geordi is also here looking dapper:

Make the collar as high as you can. I want to be sliced open by my own collar

You CAN go wrong with a three-piece suit, but it’s difficult to. He can’t wear his visor, so he has some kicky shades which we’ll get a better look at in a sec.

Back at the Hotel Brian (lol), the bellboy (who we learn in this scene is Jack London, inspired to be a writer by Mark Twain [citation needed]) lets Mark Twain into Data’s room and allows him to look around unsupervised. This is very bad hotel management.

Great Scott

Then Data and Guinan show back up, and Mark Twain hides in an armoire.

One short day in the emerald brocade

I think one reason I love Guinan’s looks so much, both in the 24th and the 19th century, is that our color palette is very similar. We’re both winters. Bold jewel tones are the vibe. This one is in a beautiful deep green fabric with what looks like a velvet flocking pattern on it. The collar is also velvet, and I love that sleeve with a flounce on top like there wasn’t already enough fucking fabric on the sleeve so they just added a random piece to be like “yes, bitch. I’m a sleeve.”

Naturally, the hat is also jaunty af:

San Francisco’s hottest milliner is: Madame Guinan

This hat has everything: feathers, netting, a brim, an angle that makes you think it’s going to fall off but it doesn’t. We stan.

Meanwhile, Picard is setting up a sensor in a hospital while wearing a hat:

I’m bowled over

We haven’t even asked where Picard got these clothes, but I would like to point out that he’s dressed as a lower-class guy, while Riker is a cop, and Geordi looks like a gentleman. Was there even a discussion they all had about how they would disguise themselves? Was Picard like “I just really want to wear a beat-up bowler hat” and since he’s the captain, they extrapolated from there? This episode is NOT CONCERNED about any of this. They all have clothes, end of story.

Bev even has TWO outfits!!

Hello nurse!!!!

I love this look. She still has her unlikely hairstyle happening, which means her nurse’s cap is sitting atop her voluminous hairstyle. (Not very practical, but realistic!) She’s sporting a simple striped dress and a button-on apron. (Look closely and you can see the two buttons holding the apron to the dress.) The fabric underneath might be cotton seersucker, but it’s likely a lightweight cotton or linen twill. You can see how closely her look matches these nurses from a similar time period:

Hello nurses!!!!

Deanna is also in this scene and this episode, but you wouldn’t know it from what she’s given to do. HUGE SHOCKER: TROI NOT GIVEN ENOUGH TO DO IN AN EPISODE. 🙃

She still looks beautiful:

Why aren’t capelets more popular

We never get a really GREAT look at her whole outfit, but I can tell you that it has a capelet, it’s in the red family, and the hat has a lot of business going on. For those reasons: approved. It has a flounce in the back too:

More fabric = more wealth

Sometimes I think about just how much fabric it took to make these old-timey dresses and I’m like...how did anyone get anything done?? It takes me like 4 weeks to finish a pair of leggings and those have like 5 seams and I own a serger. These historical bitches were sewing whole ass dresses in no time at all.

Okay, so Bev is in this hospital and here come some more energy-stealing aliens, disguised as healthcare professionals this time:

I cannot take a medical professional wearing a LIGHT BROWN TOP HAT seriously, sorry

Bev AND this energy-stealing alien have BOTH managed to get their hands on the SAME nurse’s uniform?? I guess in the case of the alien, she is a shape-shifter, so she got her clothes from...that. And her hair.

I hate this light brown top hat. If you’re going to wear a top hat, don’t DISRESPECT IT by making it BROWN, but if you’re going to make it brown, make it a good brown, like chocolate. Stupid energy-stealing aliens.

There’s a skirmish, the energy-stealing aliens disappear, and the real cops show up:

MOUSTACHE

Of course, the cops showing up is bad, because when has a cop showing up ever made a bad situation better? Never. Defund the police, but don’t defund handlebar mustaches. Those can stay.

Fortunately, Data has gotten a ping on that machine he was building before and shows up on a motherfucking HORSE:

Brent just wanted to show off

He’s back in his brown striped suit and red tie. Okay.

Everyone returns to the boarding house to suss out the situation, and we get a look at what Riker is rocking underneath his cop jacket:

Suspend me daddy

You can see very clearly here how the collar is not actually attached to the shirt. This was a thing people in the olden days did so they could wear their shirt for multiple days in a row and just switch out the collar and cuffs so they looked clean. As someone who is wearing the same sweatshirt for the third day in a row, I support this method. (If you’re interested on more info about collars, here is a very enjoyable article about them.)

We are also blessed with a better look at Deanna’s sleeves and bodice:

Black lace cuffs? Decadent!!!

You can also see Geordi’s shades, which suit him really nicely. One thing I’ve been enjoying on this rewatch is just how well LeVar Burton can act without having his eyes visible. He’s great. Let’s just all think about how great LeVar Burton is for a second

And also Bev’s dress:

I legitimately want this dress

I don’t think those buttons are functional. Can you imagine how annoying THAT would be? But I am absolutely in love with this dress. Two paisleys, Beverly???? A goddess. I’m also dying for that brooch with the chain. A+ look all around, great work.

Finally, FINALLY, Guinan meets the rest of the crew:

When you meet someone you won’t actually know for 500 years

She is wearing a hat that looks like a toilet paper cozy. Did your grandma have one of these? They’re so stupid and I love them so much.

Picard and Guinan meet for what is the first time for her, but not the first time for him, and honestly it is...sensual?????

If I got a m’lady from P. Stew I wouldn’t even mind

Patrick and Whoopi truly do some nice work in this ep. But we are here to yell about clothes, so: LOOK AT THIS DRESS ON AN EXTRA:

Gimme dat dress

I just want that dress to wear around my house. I legitimately bought an 18th century costume dress to do just that, so don’t think I won’t literally do this.

OKAY, WE ARE ALMOST TO THE END.

The crew, plus Guinan, go back to the cave where this all started:

Cave Club, the only club that meets in a cave

We get a nice look at the bodice of Guinan’s dress here and guess what: MORE BUTTONS. Buttons on the lapels, and also buttons on the front panel with the pointy top. I wonder if she has multiple front panels for that dress in different colors, like a Swatch watch.

Unbeknownst to them, Mark Twain followed them!! Then there’s a scuffle with the energy-stealing aliens during which a few things happen:

Data’s head flies off

Mark Twain gets sucked into the temporal disturbance

Guinan gets hurt

Picard stays behind to make sure Guinan is okay

So we end up with Mark Twain on the Enterprise, where he sees Worf, and he’s like:

Buh-WHAT

Worf is also confused:

This is...extremely perplexing

We have a few more looks back on the Enterprise, including Regular Guinan:

ShoulderSpreads™: The Bed Spread for Your Shoulders

I love love LOVE this outfit. The color is perfect, the shoulderspreads are perfect, the front draping is perfect. It looks like a velvet housedress from the 1960s except FANCY which is kind of my ideal aesthetic. And it’s red (my fave).

We get a quick glimpse at the barber uniform:

Bitch let me pass, idc if you wrote Huck Finn

This barber does. not. give. a. fuck!!!!

Geordi reattaches Data’s head, the one they already had, which means this whole thing was a ding dang closed loop. The reattachment also kind of diminishes the whole conversation they had earlier about how Data’s head in the cave meant that Data could die someday, because...he didn’t. He still might, but his head is back and he’s fine now.

Meanwhile, Picard is still back in 1893 and they have to go get him, but only one person can come back through the temporal disturbance, so Mark Twain is like “duh I’ll go get him.”

And finally Guinan and Picard can talk about how their friendship spans 500 years!!!!

Hey girl

Hey

YOU’RE WELCOME

*abolish the police

#SEASON 5 #SEASON 6 #TNG #TNG FASHION #STAR TREK #STAR TREK FASHION

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jaybug-jabbers · 3 years

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Pokemon Gold/Silver Beta Pokemon: The April 2020 Leak

Look, 2020 was a rough year. So maybe I shouldn’t be so surprised that the April 2020 Gold/Silver source code leak flew almost entirely under my radar. If you Google about it, you’re find it’s very rare for news outlets to cover it. This is probably because many folks are hesitant to cover leaks. Also, the US was warming up to a truly awful pandemic around that point, not to mention other civil unrest, so it’s no surprise some people were a tad distracted.

But the fact is, another leak turned up in April of last year, following a recent trend of huge Nintendo leaks. And this one was a doozy. I’ve only truly realized its full extent in the past few days. As such, I’d like to do a post that covers some of the new information. In particular, I’m focusing on beta pokemon that were cut or heavily reworked.

Now, back in 2018, the Spaceworld ‘97 Pokemon Gold/Silver Demo was leaked online. I made a post about some of my favorites. So, from this leak, we already knew of a while slew of beta pokemon. However, as it turns out, there were still more new faces to find-- and a lot of them! I list 45 new beta pokemon here, in fact!

In the April 2020 leak, several sprite sets were found as internal files, each at different phases of game production. The sprite sets were dated May 6, 1998, June 13, 1999, June 21, 1999, and September 17, 1999. The August 17, 1999 Spaceworld ‘99 Demo build was also found, so we have information on that as well.

Essentially, if you want to see this information at The Cutting Room Floor, then head to this page for the sprites discovered as internal backups/sprite banks. Head to this page for the Spaceworld ‘99 demo information page. And, if you need a refresher for the older leak, you can go to this page for the Spaceworld ‘97 demo build.

For this post, we will focus on the May 6, ‘98 set of sprites, which contain the vast majority of new faces. So, without further ado, onward to the pokemon!

(#300) Kokopelli Pokemon/Celebi

(May 6, ‘98) (Spaceworld ‘99 Demo)

This first pair of sprites looks very much like Kokopelli, a fertility deity of some Native American cultures. This deity can be seen in ancient Native American petroglyphs, as a humpbacked flute player with feathers on the head. Surprisingly, we find that Celebi in the Spaceworld ‘99 Demo seems to be an updated version of this design, making Celebi’s design origins much different than expected. However, its fertility diety inspiration is still somewhat apparant in the modern Celebi, as a creature that causes plant life to flourish.

(#301) Eel Pokemon

While the sprite files did not reveal a name or other data, this eel’s sprites were numbered right beside the Gurotesu (Grotess) and Ikari (Anchorage) sprites, suggesting it once was the start of their evolution chain.

(#304) Fire Fox Pokemon

This little fellow is a fox that seems to have a fiery tail. It’s possible this fire fox was inspired by kitsune (just as Vulpix/Ninetails were) and that it was later redesigned as Fennekin.

(#305 - 308) Snow Bunny Evolution Line

These four pokemon seem to belong to the same evolutionary line. The second one seems to based on the Yuki Usagi, a ‘Snow Bunny.’ In Japan, these cute little critters are made in the snow (using leaves for the ears). They also sometimes make these Yuki Usagi as little marshmallow or mochi treats. So this pokemon line could be inspired by either of these. Considering the leaves and the snow, I would guess these would have been Grass/Ice.

(#309) Elephant Pokemon

You might wonder if this chonky boy-- looking tough with horns on his head and back-- was an early version of Donphan, but Donphan and Phanpy were present in the Spaceworld ‘97 demo. Indeed, this elephant and Phanpy/Donphan both exist in the same set of sprites from May ‘98, so it was simply a case of two types of elephants. This pokemon also calls to mind a glimpse of a cut beta pokemon we saw from Generation 1 (from ‘Satoshi Tajiri: The Man Who Made Pokémon’):

Same fierce eyes, at any rate! Alas, these both never saw the light of day. However, it’s possible this elephant was reworked into Piloswine, which is not in the May ‘98 collection but does appear in the June 13 ‘99 collection (although Swinub is absent). While Piloswine and Swinub are more akin to wild boars, there is also some relation to mammoths (an inspiration more heavily leaned on with Mammoswine in later games). Then again, there’s another pokemon you’ll see a little further down this list that might have inspired Piloswine instead.

(#311) Natu/Xatu Mid-Evolution

What is clearly a mid-evolution (its file number sits between the two). Has a peacock-like tail. Honestly, I think this works really good as a mid-evolution, and I don’t know why it was cut. I want to name it “Watu.”

(#313) Drunk Kiwi Pokemon

This one is just hilarious to look at. It appears to probably be a kiwi-bird? A very crazy-eyed, loopy one. I can see why this one was cut. The goofy, simple design kind of looks like a knockoff cartoon character for children.

(#314) Scorpion Pokemon

A pretty badass-looking scorpion, although a rather basic design. I dig the funky head, though. It seems like it has a single, beady eye and is rather menacing. This pokemon may have been later reworked into Gligar, a pokemon that first appears after this sprite set, in the June 13 ‘99 group:

Admittedly this is rather different from the Gligar we know, but it is an early design.

Or, who knows-- maybe this little fellah was later reworked into Skorupi. (If so, it’s a shame, as I don’t dig the weird accordian-like design of its limbs and its evolution.)

(#315) Quail Pokemon

A pudgey little quail pokemon. Doesn’t seem related to the kiwi pokemon. It’s a very cute little thing, and has lots of potential to evolve into something interesting, but it seems they scrapped it pretty quickly.

(#316) Music Note Bird Pokemon

Although these sprites are numbered right after the quail, and they are both birds, the designs are very different, so they seem unrelated. It seems the beta pokemon were simply blessed with a lot of birds. This little bird is in the shape of a clef, giving this bird a musical theme. It seems very likely it was later reworked into Chatot, a bird with a music-note shaped head and metronome tail.

(#319) Boar Pokemon

A cute, grumpy little boar with antlers. Probably what eventually led to Piloswine found in the June 13 ‘99 group. A bit of a shame, in my mind, as I kind of prefer this design.

(#325) Spikey Dog Pokemon

The curious thing is that this dog looks very similar to “Pudi,” a pokemon we saw in the Spaceworld ‘97 demo, which was intended to be a pre-evolution of Growlithe. But Pudi is also in this same collection of sprites!

Perhaps they were toying with the idea of re-designing Pudi (and had already scrapped a bunch of baby pokemon) and just hadn’t bothered to remove the old Pudi yet. It’s hard to say. Ultimately, these both were scrapped, but at least we still have Subbull/Granbull.

(#331) Yūrei Ghost Pokemon

This little ghost has two things that are common in Japanese folklore: the hitaikakushi (the white cloth headband it wears) and the two little balls of fire called hitodama. It is unknown why this ghost pokemon was scrapped, but perhaps they thought the little fellow wouldn’t translate well overseas?

(#344) Viking Ship Pokemon

Look at this beauty! A pokemon based off some sort of Viking ship. I absolutely adore this one. It’s creative and charming. I hope to see it in the future.

(#349) Wooly Dog Pokemon

This canine-like creature is fluffy as all out. Honestly I think it’s a tad odd, with how tangled and disheveled its fur looks. I can’t help but compare it to the early desings of the three Legendary Beasts, since they also are very canine-like:

These three designs are present in this same May 6, 98′ sprite collection as the representations of Raikou, Entei, and Suicune. Were they possibly playing with a different design idea for the Legendary Beasts? Perhaps Suicune. The Wooly Dog is just such an imposing sprite, that I can’t help but wonder. All pure speculation, of course.

(#350) Rabbit Pokemon

This rabbit has a rather intense look about him, and it makes me curious what the ideas were behind it. TCRF suggests it’s a possible pikachu clone.

(#351) Snake Pokemon

This cute little worm or snake seems to be wearing a feather headdress, suggesting its design may also be Native American inspired, like the Natu line. On the other hand, this could be inspired by Quetzalcoatl, a feathered serpent deity in Aztec culture. I would have loved to see this little guy’s evolutions.

(#352) Scarecrow Bird

A bird with a hat that kind of looks like a scarecrow. Honestly, it’s a super-cute idea.

(#353) Gargoyle Pokemon

This crouching beastie sort of looks like a gargoyle with a long, sharp tail. I can’t quite tell if those bits on the side are little wings or just a part of its legs. It would be interesting to see this creature standing in a different position-- I feel like that would give us a better understanding of what it looks like. Interestingly, there are striking similarities with Aerodactyl:

I wonder why they are so similar?

(#354 - 356) Manbō Evolution Family

The first of these three fishies was someone we already met in the Spaceworld ‘97 demo-- it was named ‘Manbō 1.′ In the demo, it evolved into Ikari (Anchorage) and then Gurotesu (Grotess). It seems it’s now been split off from those and given a new evolution family here. While I find that neat, and I quite like the expressions on these fish, they are admittedly a little bland.

(#360) Flying Squirrel(?) Pokemon

TCRF guesses this is a flying squirrel, and it seems to be wearing a sheathed sword. Not sure about the headgear it’s sporting. Is that a ninja star?

(#364) Early Cyndaquil

So, this May 6, ‘98 collection is really exciting. The original Gold/Silver fire starter line we saw in Spaceworld ‘97 (Honooguma’s line) is still present in this collection (as is the water-type ‘Cruz’ line and Chikorita’s line). So, what we have here seems to be an early Cyndaquil before they decided to turn it into a fire type and make it the fire starter! In fact, those spikes might even be icicles (like Alolan Sandslash), for all we know. If so, Cyndaquil’s typing pulled a 180.

(#377) Early Furret?

Possibly an early Furret. Looks pretty awkward, not gonna lie; I’m glad it was probably refined into modern Furret, with more body definition between the head and tail.

(#378) Stork Pokemon

It’s a stork, based on the myth of where babies come from. A cute idea, although its curly ‘hair’ looks a little funny to me.

(#380) Squid Pokemon

A squid with drills for its mantle and arms. Since that’s kinda Beedrill’s thing, I’m glad they scrapped the idea. The backsprite lacks drills so it’s probably from a different design stage.

(#382 - 383) Early Burmy/Pineco

Burmy/Wormadam/Mothim is based off the bagworm. Bagworms are grubs that use silk and lots of bits of leaves, bark and other objects to create a camouflaged cocoon. When they turn into adults, some species of female bagworms just look like their larval stage, while the males turn into winged moths. That is why Burmy/Wormadam/Mothim have their unique evolution situation. Clearly, these two beta pokemon are playing around with the bagworm idea. They probably went on to inspire both Pineco (another pokemon based on bagworms!) and the Burmy line in gen 4.

(#386) Koala Pokemon

It’s so cool to see they were thinking about a koala pokemon this early. We would not finally get one until gen 7′s Komala.

(#387) Tanuki Pokemon

A Tanuki that is carrying campfire kindling on his back, but the kindling has caught fire. Apparently based on the Kachi-Kachi Yama folktale, which is a surprisingly violent story, but I suppose folktales often are. Who knows why it was cut, but Sentret is the closest thing we have to a tanuki pokemon for now.

(#392) Megaphone(?) Bird Pokemon

Yet another bird pokemon! There sure were a lot of beta birds. This one appears to have a megaphone-shaped beak. Or, possibly, its head is shaped like a gas mask (the strange eyes seem to support this idea). Honestly I really dig the look of this one.

(#397) Frog Pokemon

It’s tough to tell but it has a small horn on its head. It has a long tongue and is probably shouting “ribbithhhhhh!” It’s cute, but a little plain.

(#400) Tiny Hippo Pokemon

Look at this little weirdo. I think it’s a tiny hippo? With a mohawk and a big grin and wild eyes. It doesn’t really seem to have a head, its mouth/eyes/ears are just stuck directly to a body. Looks pretty awkward, probably needed some polish. No idea what they were going for with it, but it’s interesting.

(#401) Skeleton Pokemon

A very spooky, bipedal, living skeleton beast. It has a long snout and sharp teeth, almost like a crocodile or a dinosaur-like creature. Its head and shoulders have bony spikes and the front of its snout has markings that seem to be a nasal cavity. Very detailed. It also reminds me of Missingno, as some Missingno used the fossil skeletons as their front sprites. I would have loved to have this pokemon, and it’s a real shame they didn’t use it.

(#402) Rodent Pokemon

A mouse or bunny with gigantic, spotted ears and no arms. Those are some serious ears; it almost looks like it could fly with them.

(#403) Fly Pokemon

A bug-type!! It has a huge, creepy face, curly antenna and wings strangely really close to its head. I love it?? But it’s a bug, so of course I do.

(#404) Plant Pokemon

The Snow Bunny was likely part grass-type, but other than that, this is our first grass beta! It has one eye, a spikey head, and almost foot-like roots. I love how grumpy it looks. There’s a possibility it was a pre-evolution for Sunflora, before they had created the idea of Sunkern (which is not present in this collection).

(#405) Ant Pokemon

Another bug!! This one looks a lot like a winged ant. (Those do exist-- usually a temporary thing for mating flights) It’s possibly related to the fly pokemon above, sporting very similar wings. However, it doesn’t really seem like an evolution.

(#406) Dinosaur Pokemon

A little dinosaur-like pokemon, looking up at you. It’s unclear if that’s a tough, bony skull, or if it’s maybe a hat. The clubbed tail makes me wonder if it’s related to #415 below, but it’s probably unlikely. However, it is pretty likely that this later became Cranidos.

(#407) Early Cherrim

This clearly was a design that was picked up later, in gen 4, to create Cherubi/Cherrim’s sunshine form. I am glad the design was improved, because the lips on this one scare me.

(#412) Early Dunsparce

Dunsparce looking quite different. No wings, no drill tail, with a much more typical snake-like face.

(#415) Dinosaur Pokemon

It looks like an aquatic version of an Ankylosaurus or something similar. It’s possible it’s related to the Viking Ship pokemon (as a pre-evo), but there’s no way to know. I quite like it, though.

(#416) Flying Fish Pokemon

This magnificent beast, this miracle of creation, is surely my favorite beta pokemon of all time. Revel in its glory. You may not like it, but this is the ideal pokemon body. What a perfect way to round off our collection of betas.

#pokemon #pokemon gold/silver #beta pokemon #april 2020 leak #pokemon betas #pokemon beta content #mycontent #pokemon discussion

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paisley-print · 3 years

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10:00am : Five More Minutes

About: A morning spent in bed.

Rating: 18+

Word count: 1696

Characters: Agent Whiskey x Reader

Warnings: Smut (Oral Fem receiving, fingering, mentions of sexual fantasies) Pregnancy, family drama

Series Master-List

Tag List: @sherala007 (I remembered to tag you this time! Sorry for the mix up! :)

Notes: *sigh* a calm before the storm. Enjoy a nice moment.

“Close your eyes”

“How did you -”

Jack cut you off, sighing and shifting closer to you in bed. “Because I can feel you starin’, you’ll do fine.” He flipped onto his stomach, moving a hand up under your t-shirt to place his palm flat on your belly.

Daylight was spilling through the curtains, but you just wanted to stay in bed with him. The soft opening of the bakery was tonight for the members of the city counsel. It was a tradition in the town. You couldn’t tell if the nausea you felt was from the pregnancy or your nerves.

What made it worse was that most of the food there had been made by your staff. They were your recipes, but somehow it still felt like cheating.

“Jack?” You whispered, moving your hand to thread through strands of his coffee-colored hair. He shifted closer and kissed your cheek - his eyes still closed. You took this as a sign to continue, “you’re gonna make it, right?”

His voice was deep and husky from sleep. “Course I already spoke to the boss about it. He said it was fine. I wouldn’t miss this for the world darlin’.”

“Has your family said anything about tomorrow?”

“No, but I’ll ask em’ again.”

“...do you think they like me?”

Jack groaned “we’ve had this talk a million times sugar, of course they like you. They just have a funny way of showin’ it is all.”

You listened to the birds singing from the oak tree outside. Normally you two didn’t stay in bed this long unless it was a weekend, but Jack called in late today. You rubbed his arm idly under the sheets.

“Have you thought of any names yet?”

“We only found out it was a girl yesterday.”

“I’m watching this show and the main character’s name was Houston…. I thought that was pretty cute.”

He was quick to shoot you down, “no.”

“Why?”

“I refuse to name my daughter after the enemy.”

“Unpack that for me.”

“The Tennessee Titans formerly known as the Houston Oilers have had a rivalry with the Houston Texans since the team was founded in 1999.”

“Jesus Christ Jack Football?”

“If my daughter is gonna be a winner then she’ll need to have a winner’s name.”

You reached over onto the bed stand and unplugged your phone. You opened the web search app and started typing. “It says here that the Tennessee Titans have never one a Superbowl.”

“At least they’ve been there darlin’.”

You scrolled “yeah once twenty years ago. Says they lost to the St Louis Ra-”

He snatched your phone from your hand and placed it under his pillow. “They’ll get em’ this year darlin’ - don’t you worry.”

You snorted with laughter.

“Just for that her first birthday will be Titans themed.”

You smiled and settled in closer to your husband as the sweet scent of lavender filled your senses. “Do you think she can hear us in there?’

“I dunno.” he raised his voice a little. “Baby girl - if you can hear this, tell your mamma to get her cold feet off my leg.”

You kicked him playfully. “Tell your daddy to stop hogging all the covers and I won’t have to put my feet on his leg.”

“Tell your mamma that I need the blankets as my shield for when she decides to flail about in the night.”

You cackled. “I do not flail about.”

“Uh, trust me darlin’ you do - I gotta be ready at any moment for an elbow coming at my face.”

You giggled “that was one time.”

“It hurt like hell.”

“I was asleep! Besides, I said I was sorry.”

He shuttered dramatically. “You're worse than-” he cleared his throat, saving himself quickly. “Maybe I’ll call out today.”

“You don’t have any more vacation days,” you remind him.

“They can’t fire me.”

“Why?”

“Cuz’ then they’d have to kill me …..and you.”

Your eyes went wide. You lifted yourself up a little to look at him, only to notice the smile on his face.

“I’m only jokin’ hon. They would torture us both before they killed us.”

You rolled your eyes.

He snuggled closer to you. “Don’t worry darlin’ I won’t let that happen.”

“Oh, you won’t?” you asked, teasing.

“Nope.”

“What are you gonna do? Tie em’ up and bore them with football facts?”

He hummed, pretending to be annoyed - but you knew he was only playing. There was silence for a few moments before he spoke again. “I can still feel you staring-”

“I’m not tired I can’t just fall back asleep-” a gasp escaped your lips as Jack moved his hand from your stomach to brush against your panties. He traced the hemline of the fabric before moving his hand underneath.

His index finger stroked over your center with a feather light touch. You twitched and reached out to halt his hand. “If you're still tired you don’t have to-”

“Does it feel good?”

“Yes but-”

“Do you want me to keep going?”

“Yes.”

“So close your eyes and let me do it.”

You nodded and relaxed into the mattress. Jack shifted upwards, so he was holding himself on one arm. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and started to rub tight circles around your clit.

You flinched uncomfortably; he knew what it meant without you even having to verbalize it. Reading your body was something he had become excellent at these last few years. He had learned your patterns and made a mental note each time something worked and something didn't.

The sheets ruffled against each other as his body weight moved lower on the bed. You didn’t realize what he was doing until his lips brushed against your upper thigh.

“I can do you next,” you told him quickly, not wanting to seem selfish.

He shushed you and hooked his fingers around your panties to pull them off. You lifted your hips and felt the fabric glide down your legs and off your feet. A shiver shot through your spine as his facial hair brushed against the inner part of your leg. He smiled and trailed kisses all the way down to the apex of your thigh, pausing a moment before starting to suck a mark into your soft skin.

You felt yourself buck already. He laughed at how eager you were and laid a hand flat on your hips, stopping your squirming so he could finish making a little bruise with his mouth. One of his favorite things to do was paint you with a hickey or two.

Especially in places that are visible to others, it served as a reminder to everybody that you were his. He got high off of it. Watching that spark of jealousy cross over peoples faces as soon as you flipped your hair or removed your jacket and unwittingly displayed for them the purple mark that he had kissed into your skin not hours before…..yeah he would never get tired of it.

He loved watching other people lust for you and often found himself wondering just what they were imagining. Was it the way your nipples perked up whenever he ghosted a hand over your chest? Or perhaps the sound of your breathless moans beneath him as he pumped into you and you submitted to him entirely? Sometimes when he was fucking you, he imagined someone watching or listening from outside the door.

The daydream that came most often was bending you over his desk and work and looking down at you. Your face pressed against a stack of files, mouth open and eyes squeezed shut. In the dream he wouldn't try to silence your cries of pleasure as they echoed through the long corridors. He would make certain that you were heard clearly by every single coworker walking by the office. It was his dirty little secret that he never planned to confess because it made him feel guilty.

A large hand gripped your leg and nudged it apart, you could feel his hot breath ghosting over your sensitive skin as he lingered there, teasing you. You whined, grasping a fistful of the sheets in your hand and rolling your head against the pillow.

You bucked again and thankfully he was merciful this time. He swiped his tongue upwards through your folds slowly, and your hips followed. Your hands released the fabric and found their way to his curls. His hair was mused and knotted from sleep.

“Fuck, I love you” you sighed.

His fingers spread you apart while his tongue started to swirl gently on your sensitive bundle of nerves. You arched your back and moaned something unintelligible.

Jack loved hearing you sing for him. When he first met you, he had noticed how much you held back. After that, each time he took you, he made it a game to pull as many trembling cries or melodical notes from your lips as he could. It worked too, because god did you sing.

His beautiful little instrument, carved by the gods themselves.

He moved his arms around your thighs, keeping them open as you squirmed from pleasure. He kissed you harder, losing himself entirely in the sensation of your wet sex against his lips. The tug on his hair made him smirk and dip his tongue inside of you. Hot waves of pleasure shot straight into your stomach.

The feeling of absolute bliss made you dizzy. “Jack,” you whimpered, voice cracking a little.

When you started to lift your hips into his touch, he knew that you were close.

You always squirmed a little more as you approached the edge. Pulling away and then moving right back, as if your body couldn’t decide if the pleasure was too much or not enough all at the same time. He withdrew his tongue and pulled you downward on the bed a little, positioning himself over you more.

“Please,” you begged, needing to feel him again.

He was quick to respond, clamping his mouth over your clit and flicking quickly with his tongue. The knot in your stomach tightened ever more, and you felt yourself moving your hips against his mouth.

He urged your legs to open an inch wider and that extra burst of sensation was all you needed to slip over the edge. Your eyebrows knit together and your mouth fell open in pleasure. You didn’t even hear yourself finish, but Jack sure did.

‘That's it, just like that darlin’,’ he thought triumphantly. He continued to kiss you, your walls fluttering at his touch until your hand came up to bat weakly at his shoulder. A signal for him to stop. He pressed one more kiss to the inside of your thigh before moving back upwards and settling on the pillow again.

He laughed when he saw you laying there, momentarily immobilized from ecstasy. The smirking cowboy snuggled closer to you again, forearm draping over your heaving chest as you tried to catch your breath.

“Yeah,” you panted “I can do five more minutes.”

#Jack Daniels x you #Whiskey x you #Agent whiskey x Reader #Agent whiskey x you #Agent whiskey fanfic #Kingsmen Fanfiction #Kingsmen Fanfic #Pedro fanfic #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Pedro Pascal Fanfiction

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agentrouka-blog · 3 years

Note

Why in ADWD Jon dreams of killing Robb and ygritte? He also once beat one NW brother in rage when he remember the memory of Robb saying he won't get lord of WF as he is bastard. Do you think his guilt made him dream of these nightmares and future foreshadowing for kingslaying? Like ygritte represent his violent lover and Robb represent his kin. Or it means something else?

Hi anon!

I think in this dream and how it is echoed in other parts of the books, we see Jon’s inner struggle with his role as Lord Commander immediately before his biggest political act ever: inviting the enemy to cross over into safety.

And it is the enemy. And Jon is struggling. In the violence of the dream, and in how it contrasts with Dany, and in the decision they both make in its aftermath, we see their true selves revealed and get a glimpse of what this means for them as enemies eventually.

Jon’s nightmare opens ADWD Jon XII, right before he wakes up to The Big Day, the most massive breach of protocol by a Lord Commander in living memory. He’s letting thousands of wildlings past the Wall. The very thing he had fought a vicious battle to prevent, because he knew it comes with massive risks.

Lots of quotes ahead:

That night he dreamt of wildlings howling from the woods, advancing to the moan of warhorns and the roll of drums. Boom DOOM boom DOOM boom DOOM came the sound, a thousand hearts with a single beat. Some had spears and some had bows and some had axes. Others rode on chariots made of bones, drawn by teams of dogs as big as ponies. Giants lumbered amongst them, forty feet tall, with mauls the size of oak trees.

The boom DOOM boom DOOM theme is present in the Red Wedding in Catelyn VII and with Theon in A Ghost in Winterfell, moments of intense transformation. Catelyn turns into a wrathful weirdwood image and murders and innocent in her failed attempt to sway Walder Frey to spare Robb. A dark promise kept, and then she dies in despair, only to rise again as Lady Stoneheart three days later. But that will not be the end of her story.

Theon has become Reek, and longs for the sweet deliverance of death in the face of Stannis’ siege. He “gave the girl away, he played his part”, he may have earned death as a reward now. But he is drawn to the godswood, where Bran’s voice calls his true name. And there he is found by Rowan, who insists on one last service. It it the act that will lead him back to himself. To Theon.

Jon's dream places him back in the battle at the Wall, holding it against Mance’s assault. But unlike then, he is alone, his battle is as lonely as it is intense.

“Stand fast,” Jon Snow called. “Throw them back.” He stood atop the Wall, alone. “Flame,” he cried, “feed them flame,” but there was no one to pay heed.

They are all gone. They have abandoned me.

Burning shafts hissed upward, trailing tongues of fire. Scarecrow brothers tumbled down, black cloaks ablaze. “Snow,” an eagle cried, as foemen scuttled up the ice like spiders. Jon was armored in black ice, but his blade burned red in his fist. As the dead men reached the top of the Wall he sent them down to die again. He slew a greybeard and a beardless boy, a giant, a gaunt man with filed teeth, a girl with thick red hair. Too late he recognized Ygritte. She was gone as quick as she’d appeared.

This part of the dream mirrors Dany’s nightmare before her own fateful decision to “free” the unsullied with dragonfire.

That night she dreamt that she was Rhaegar, riding to the Trident. But she was mounted on a dragon, not a horse. When she saw the Usurper's rebel host across the river they were armored all in ice, but she bathed them in dragonfire and they melted away like dew and turned the Trident into a torrent. Some small part of her knew that she was dreaming, but another part exulted. This is how it was meant to be. The other was a nightmare, and I have only now awakened. (ASOS, Daenerys III)

Waking the dragon, indeed. Unlike Jon, Dany’s experience of the dream is an experience of satisfaction and empowerment for her. Her enemies are slain by distance weapon, they have no faces, the melt away by the power of dragonfire. It appears these two may be facing off - the tongues of fire attacking the black ice.

Unlike Dany, Jon uses his sword, and he sees every face, names those he knows. He had considered killing Ygritte in battle, and he does it here, in battle between wildlings and Night’s Watch.

The world dissolved into a red mist. Jon stabbed and slashed and cut. He hacked down Donal Noye and gutted Deaf Dick Follard. Qhorin Halfhand stumbled to his knees, trying in vain to staunch the flow of blood from his neck.

Same with these men, Qhorin in the Frost Fangs, the other two during the same attack that saw Ygritte die. But these are his brothers in arms now. The fight turns to them. A red mist. Then it is his true brother facing him.

“I am the Lord of Winterfell,” Jon screamed. It was Robb before him now, his hair wet with melting snow. Longclaw took his head off. Then a gnarled hand seized Jon roughly by the shoulder. He whirled …

Just like Jon couldn’t kill Ygritte in life and rejected Stannis’ offer, he is doing the opposite here, his darkest emotions bubbling up in a red wrath - but unlike Dany, it’s clear the experience is not euphoric. He is wrestling alone, with his enemies, his brothers, his entire self.

He has been trying to save lives, but it isolates him, he is battling alone, unable to trust anyone, sending his friends away, hacking away at his own soul by not being able to help Arya. Betraying everyone, the wildlings (Ygritte), the Night’s Watch (his black brothers), his family and the North (Robb), and it is chaotic and endless. A red mist, a carnage.

But he is interrupted.

… and woke with a raven pecking at his chest. “Snow,” the bird cried. Jon swatted at it. The raven shrieked its displeasure and flapped up to a bedpost to glare down balefully at him through the predawn gloom.

Snow, the magic word that made the decision for him the last time, does it again. Unlike Dany embracing the dragon, Jon has an exit route: Snow. His true self is not inside the dream. Just like Theon’s true self is not in serving the Boltons, just like the tree calls to Theon, the raven calls to Jon. Snow. During the hour of the wolf, for both. He wakes and the nightmare fades. His path is before him. It is not battle. It is far more complex. Dangerous but life-giving.

The hard decision he has come to make, the transformation, is very different from Dany’s decision. She makes a false trade and burns her enemies, has them slaughtered in the streets, including children age 12 and up. Jon is about to embrace his enemies because they have a common foe. Peace after war.

The day had come. It was the hour of the wolf. Soon enough the sun would rise, and four thousand wildlings would come pouring through the Wall. Madness. Jon Snow ran his burned hand through his hair and wondered once again what he was doing. Once the gate was opened there would be no turning back. It should have been the Old Bear to treat with Tormund. It should have been Jaremy Rykker or Qhorin Halfhand or Denys Mallister or some other seasoned man. It should have been my uncle. It was too late for such misgivings, though. Every choice had its risks, every choice its consequences. He would play the game to its conclusion.

This decision is massive and Jon is trembling before it. “Madness.” He is making a trade that is fragile but honest. With the people he had battled. His enemies. But the time for war between them is done. If Jon doesn’t want to see the world end in ice, if he wants to protect the North and all that he loves, he has to break with tradition - and have faith.

“All is in readiness,” Bowen Marsh assured him. “If the wildlings uphold the terms of the bargain, all will go as you’ve commanded.”

And if not, it may turn to blood and carnage. “Remember,” Jon said, “Tormund’s people are hungry, cold, and fearful. Some of them hate us as much as some of you hate them. We are dancing on rotten ice here, them and us. One crack, and we all drown. If blood should be shed today, it had best not be one of us who strikes the first blow, or I swear by the old gods and the new that I will have the head of the man who strikes it.”

Jon’s gamble will end up costing his life at the very hands of Bowen Marsh, but it remains the right decision. It will cost him, it will not make him more powerful in the short term. But it will pay off in the long term. It reveals who he is.

Dany emerged from betrayal transformed into a dragon. Jon’s transformation is still coming up. He will be a wolf for a while, but his path is not Dany’s path.

We see their true selves in this. For Jon, the battle is a nightmare he can wake from because he is not ice nor fire nor fully a wolf. He is Snow. His own person. Someone is calling his name. Like Bran calls Theon and helps him return to himself. Like Arya will call Catelyn by her true name: mother.

For Dany, the battle is her true self, and there will be no turning back. Who is calling Dany? Quaithe. Dragon dragon dragon.

When they face off, this will be crucial. It will be carnage. But one of them will emerge, and the other will not.

#asoiaf #jon snow #wildlings #anti daenerys targaryen #black ice #dragonfire #nightmares #foreshadowing #parallels

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oumaheroes · 3 years

Text

Earthbound: Matthew’s Story

Context:

Hundreds of years after the fall of Earth, mankind is slowly starting to return. Some people have a stronger urge to return than others, confused by fragments of memories from a life already lived.

Full fic can be found here.

Arthur’s story can be found here.

-----

Matthew is four. His family have got their first dog and it’s a large, fluffy creature, all flank and tail and teeth. Matthew is horrified, at first, at this large thing that has suddenly appeared in his house, and he cries and tries to get away from it when it approaches him in the living room.

‘Just come say hello,’ Daddy says, hoisting him up to sit on his knees and taking his small hand in his larger one. His father’s body curls around him and, enveloped in arms, Matthew feels safe. His daddy reaches out his hand, thus, Matthew’s hand, giant thumb in the middle of his palm so that it is pinned there, and holds it aloft in front of the creature.

A large wet nose immediately descends and Matthew squeals because it is cold and strange and scary and Daddy shushes him, bouncing him on a knee. ‘He won’t bite’, Daddy says, ‘I won’t let him hurt you. He’s just trying to say hello; doggies say hello a little differently, is all.’

He kisses Matthew’s temple and rocks him, gently. ‘Want to try again?’

He is not but he nods and says yes because he wants to be brave and strong and he trusts Daddy, he does, or he really really wants to. At his reply, Daddy holds out their hands again, in front of the thing’s mouth, and whispers soothing nothings in Matthew’s ear- he’s not paying attention, too focused on the mouth with the teeth.

The creature snuffles their hands before giving them a lick, pink rough tongue and slobber; Matthew gasps, surprised, and then laughs. Daddy chuckles, and Matthew feels the vibrations rumble through him. ‘See? I told you; he only wants to be your friend. He’s called Kumajirou.’

The name doesn’t quite stick, too long and cumbersome for Matthew’s tentative tongue and he becomes Kuma, instead. It fits.

Matthew is eleven and wishes people could be more like dogs, open and friendly and honest about all that they are. He finds people too quick, children especially: too sly and fast and always with something hidden behind their smile. He’s figured out that he isn’t really a people person, anyway- it’s not that he doesn’t like people, exactly, but he doesn’t really know how to act around them; doesn’t know what to say or how to read them properly and now the whole process of opening his mouth to speak to someone feels daunting, like standing on the roof of his house and forcing himself to step off.

Matthew likes to sit on his thoughts, chew them about in his mouth a bit and be sure of the shape they will form before he lets them go. This means that he takes too long, is silent more often than not because kids his age don’t have the patience to stop and wait for him to get himself ready, lining up his words like soldiers about to march.

He’s known as the silent one at school, blending into the environment like a piece of furniture. Whether it’s in lessons, in sports, in games, or anything in between, his classmate’s eyes glaze past him and he knows that they’ve forgotten he’s there, forgotten that he’s an option to speak to. They’re not mean to him, they just don’t think about him, anymore. Even adults are not immune, more used to handling the demands of the louder kids, dazzled by the brightness of the smarter ones, fond of the affectionate children. Matthew is only half there, he supposes, sitting in the background with a mouthful of words that won’t come out when he wants them to.

Sometimes he wonders if he’s even really there at all, because that’s what life is all about, isn’t it? Memories of things and people and places and conversations- moments you share with other people that plant you in time, leaving a mark of your life like a footprint in their existence. He feels like a ghost of a person, a shade of parts that resemble someone else and it leaves him more tongue tied than ever.

But if Kuma is there, wherever he is, it’s instantly better because Matthew can be himself, can feel something loosen inside him and let him act like a person because Kuma loves him no matter what. Dogs act the same to everyone as long as you’re good to them- love them even a little. Kuma doesn’t care if Matthew doesn’t want to talk, or doesn’t know how he properly wants to say something. Kuma doesn’t care if Matthew struggles to find his words, tripping and stumbling over them as they clog his mind, clumping awkwardly on his tongue.

Kuma will sit there, patient and still, as Matthew whispers his day into his fur, words clear and strong and unsullied by fear in a way they never are with people. He will lick him on the nose and shove his head onto his lap when Matthew has curled himself into a ball in his room, replaying his day over and over so much that his mistakes blur together like paint, colouring everything with a smear of shame.

Matthew is fourteen and he feels as though he finally understands something. It starts as a small something, creeping and pattering through him and leaving tiny tracks in his mind, but now it’s growing larger and stronger, moving within him and sending his thoughts racing.

Kuma died a few months ago. This is what started it, Matthew knows, seeing Kuma slow and slow, more so each year, before, towards the end, it took all he had left to just lift his head. Matthew had felt terrible, of course- at a loss and helpless sitting there with him, stroking Kuma’s head and whispering final goodbyes. His father had joined him on the floor, both of them cocooned by a companionable silence in a way they couldn’t be at any other time, and Matthew felt truly heard, to the bottom of everything he was, in the depths of his grief. This was a moment that needed no words, was a thing that could not be named- only felt and experienced.

His father is a research scientist at some big lab in the heart of the colony and is more used to theory and hypothetical than practical application, but he had found some e-tab journals on dogs, about how their bodies worked and how to fix them, and used his skills to pour over them with Matthew on the floor, studying the miniscule entries as much as he could to provide some help. Matthew watched, days lit by the flash of the e-tab as story after journal after analysis was checked and rechecked by his father beside him. There was no medicine that could save Kuma, no special cure for age, but there was some information about helping it, easing it- gentling death until it was as soft as sleep and Matthew’s father tried each and every one that he found. Kuma left them with a shift and a sigh and Matthew was surprised at death’s kindness, how easy it could be.

His father, haggard, tired, and sad, had given something of himself for Kuma, and Matthew felt so proud of him, thankful for the benefit it had given his oldest friend. Kuma is gone, but Matthew thinks of that shared peaceful end, of those journals filled with age old accounts from long dead men. He realises that there must be many of these e-tab entries about so many other animals, the few that are left and the thousands that there were before and he flicks onto one, in passing, just to see.

That’s all it takes. One leads to another, which leads to another and another and another and then Matthew can’t stop himself from drinking up as many as he can sync to, allowing himself to be pulled down through trees of evolution, skipping through the classifications of mammals to haunt reptiles and glide past the wingspan of birds. There used to be so many animals, more than he can ever name, more than he can ever conceive being possible- in the seas and the skies and the land and all at once. In, out, around- a planet teeming with things besides humans, living alongside the hulking toxic growth known as mankind and breathing life into the skies.

When earth fell they were lost, all apart from the few that the survivors managed to cling to, stolen away in their bags and clutched under an arm. Small animals and creatures that could be carried and fed easily with scraps that weren’t needed by another fleeing human life, or domesticated food that was herded and pushed, clueless, into a slaughterhouse of spaceships. It is redundant, of course- a pointless skill for him to nurture but Matthew is hungry for all of it; drawn in and hooked to something beyond his control he syncs file after file, strange creatures taking shape in his mind to migrate the past into his waking day.

Matthew’s colony is one of those ones where they like to push people, like to specialise their children early and drive them to great things. They’re good at what they do, structurally organised to churn out success and Matthew see the benefit of this, finally. He hadn’t really taken part before, hadn’t really shown an interest in pushing himself into a single category, but now, all of a sudden, he wants to do what his dad does.

Well, not exactly what his dad does, numbers and figures and study of physics, but the process of it. The breaking down of information, the mythological categorising of data; the calm soothing expectation of silent contemplation. So, he picks to try to become a research scientist too, selects classes that will give him access to greater libraries and archives and locked journals for deeper study, searching for fur and teeth and claws amongst them.

Matthew is eighteen. He managed to find a uni that taught a few classes in veterinary studies, the medical beginnings for those wanting to specialise as a vet. Matthew doesn’t want to do this, exactly -he’s more interested in how animals work and what they’re like, what colours they come in and how big they are- but if he becomes a vet it will allow him to work with animals all day and this, small as it is, could be enough. He isn’t sure, really; doesn’t really know exactly what he wants other than to learn but he hopes that if he takes enough classes, he’ll eventually figure something out.

The bell rings and he stands, gathering his things and heading out of class -anatomy of canines, his favourite- and turns a corner, slinging his bag over a shoulder and aiming for the canteen where he hopes they’re serving pancakes. He keeps missing them, never making the queue in time, but today he’s hoping that maybe he can manage to push his way through. Suddenly, as he turns a corner someone bumps into him, not seeing him at all, it seems, and everything crashes to the floor, e-tab skidding away out of sight.

There’s a mumbled ‘watch it!’ from someone whom Matthew doesn’t see, just a mouthless shout from a sea of strangers, and then he’s left scrabbling on the floor, parting students like a boulder in a river. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches a glint of metallic grey and a flash of Kuma’s tail across the hallway by a wall. He sighs in relief and scoots his way over, bending to snatch his tab up before it can get trodden on and straightening to come face to face with an e-board, notice shining bright and loud.

Matthew blinks at it, then shakes his head and blinks again when the advert doesn’t change, displaying something he never thought possible. It’s Earth, there and large and green and Matthew can’t read the words properly because, out of nowhere, his eyes are filled with tears and he’s crying- great shuddering breaths that turn heads and rip his voice from out of him.

Earth. Earth, there, open. Looking for people. He’s crying, crying so hard he can’t breathe, just gasp and choke and cry and people stop to stare at him because all of a sudden he’s the centre of attention, the loudest thing there is. He can’t control himself, can’t reign it in because at the top, under a heading for ‘Looking for skills in:’ he sees-

Animal care.

He doesn’t need to think, doesn’t need to read any further, doesn’t even stop to feel shame for his outburst; class forgotten, lunch forgotten, life forgotten he sprints home, avoiding the shuttles and cars he runs as fast as his legs can carry him, pounding on the electric walkways that shoot through town and feeling himself grow lighter and lighter with each step.

His mother and father don’t want him to go, mother clinging to him with arms wrapped tight around his neck. They feel, briefly, like a noose and Matthew chokes to think of listening to them- at the thought of staying here.

He loves them, he loves them- they’re his parents and he loves them so fucking much but this is something he needs to do, has to do and as he pulls away from his mother and meets his father’s eyes he can see that his father knows this too.

‘You may not get to work with animals,’ he says seriously, ‘at least not the ones you want.’ Matthew’s mother steps back to look at his father in horror, betrayal raw on her face as she realises that his father isn’t saying no Matthew can’t go, that he must stay. She reads the acceptance there, understands the truth of it and leaves the room to compose herself, Matthew staring after her sad but determined.

Matthew nods. ‘I know.’

His father steps forwards and puts a large land on his shoulder, rooting him in this moment. ‘If you’re not happy, will you come home?’

Matthew feels his eyes begin to burn, throat tighten, and thinks of the birds he’ll see even if he works in a lab, the insects he will find and small animals he can watch from a window; life spilling over the edges to bleed into buildings. ‘I’ll be happy.’

#my writing #matthew Williams #aph canada #hws canada #hetalia #hetalia fanfiction #hetalia fanfic #APH England #hws #Oops oh no here we go #These are good little snippest if people don't fancy reading the whole thing #but sorry to anyone out there who already has!#(i love you)

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amphii-writes · 3 years

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Random Haikyuu Head Canons I Have

these are all taken from my discord server cause i remember to write them there, if you want to request fanfics, my requests are W I D E open! there is also nO order! these are just all the headcanons i could find tbh

warnings: mentions of blood, and just overall wild times, swearing

Asahi loves knitting sweaters because his shoulders are broad and he also loves seeing the reactions from his teammates when they get a sweater from him! He says he buys them but he doesn’t

Aone likes knitting socks because he has big feet and he loves fluffy knee high socks but his team will never know

Asahi and Aone regularly hang out and knit together! (after asahi wasnt scared of him anyways)

Nishinoya gives you shiny rocks he finds because “your eyes shine like them!”

Yamaguchi likes to have your head rest on his chest while cuddling!

Aone likes to bake

Aone dressed like a polar bear because koganegawa told him to- halloween was amazing

daICHI HAS A KISS THE COOK APRON

Daichi secretly can make some kick ass steak and is amazing at grilling sorry

Okay but real talk, Kenma and Yaku swear like sailors and it scares everyone because they always whisper the most foul, insulting things under their breath. Hearing it is like seeing a cryptid

Speaking of cryptids, Fukunaga and Shibayama are THE most true crime, mythology, and mystery obsessed fanatics on the team and often fanboy about it together

Fukunaga’s obsession with moth man has gotten to an unhealthy stage

Kenma absolutely had a vampire phase and has read twilight. Only Kuroo knows and has sworn to secrecy via blood pact

Kuroo’s a musical nerd. Knows all of the lyrics to Hamilton, BMC, DEH, Heathers, Rent, Beetlejuice, Etc. Kenma considered dropping him because of it

Iwaizumi tells the worst dad jokes and Kyotani, wanting to beat him, started doing it too and it drives everyone insane

Yahaba and Matsukawa get along surprisingly well. Both are true crime freaks and bond over their forensic files obsessions

Matsukawa didn’t really like his thick eyebrows so he got one of his female friends to pluck it for him, but almost cried and gave up after the first hair. Oikawa called him a pussy for the next year

Hanamaki jokingly flirts with everyone on the team so most of them just got used to it, but it still confuses Kindaichi to the point of mental breakdown

Makki called Kyotani ‘puppy’ as a joke once and now mad dog is truly terrified of him

Kyotani’s dog absolutely ADORES Oikawa and it’s the funniest shit to the rest of the team

Mattsun and Makki play DnD and once convinced Yahaba and Kyotani to join. Kyotani kept rolling to fight everyone and Yahaba was a bard that kept rolling to seduce everyone. They kept yelling across the board so they had to kick them out

Outside of his school uniform, Goshiki specifically wears only plaid

Tendou makes little chocolates for the whole team every once in a while so they don’t think he’s scary

Semi and Shirabu once had a fistfight in an abandoned McDonald’s parking lot while Tendou filmed and Goshiki cheered them on

Everybody makes fun of Shirabu’s haircut but nobody dares to say it to his face. its gotten to the point where they say he got it done by a blind old lady

There’s a running joke about Shirabu also getting his haircut from prison but Goshiki is starting to suspect that it may not be a joke

Yamagata and Tendou are good friends with the mutual goal of collecting as much blackmail on their team as possible

Tendou loves animals generally considered to be ‘ugly’ like rats, crows, reptiles, etc.

80% of Goshiki’s playlist is shit overplayed on the radio. Him, Shirabu, Tendou, Kawanishi and Ushijima have a permanent ban from the aux cord

Nobody watches YouTube with Ushijima because he never skips the damn ads (other than tendou)

Suna once said y’all’dn’t’ve unironically and made a first year cry

Akagi once said UwU unironically and had an identity crisis.

Osamu has one of those rainbow gaming keyboards and is constantly on a discord call. Atsumu always yells weird shit in the background to embarrass him and once pretended to be him

During Seijoh group chat arguments. Hanamaki and Mattsukawa like to drop facebook minion memes in just to piss everyone off even more

mattsun and maki both have separate photo albums in their phones labelled ‘minion memes to piss everyone off’

Hinata carries a pocket knife and no one has no fucking idea why

mattsun and maki both have matching rat fursuits that look like they actually where in a sewer- they chased oikawa around

For all his talk of plant analogies and metaphors, Ushijima cant grow shit

Goshiki’s Bangs are the way they are because his favorite character was Rock Lee from Naruto

Oikawa has watched Ouran High School Host Club front to back so many times and he can quote all of Tamaki’s lines by heart -He keeps bothering Iwaizumi to “be his Haruhi, since you’re shorter than me”

Koganegawa has definitely gone as an Angry Bird for Halloween

Fukunaga has those reflective cat eyes, and he has terrified Yamamoto on several occasion

Hanamaki and Matsukawa have a teddy bear that they pretend is their child and they share custody

Suga always sprays whipped cream straight into his mouth whenever he sees a can

Nishinoya definitely bit people as a kid

Nishinoya would be the guy to wear shorts all year round and even if it's snowing, he'll insist he's not cold

Tendou is still stuck in his emo phase and would fangirl over Creepypasta with me and I appreciate that (me too buddy, me fuckin too)

Kyoutani LOOKS like he’d listen to viking death metal, but in reality he listens to Mother Mother and knows all the words to Ghosting

Sugawara would definitely encourage me to dumb shit and not stop me, and you’re all dumb for thinking he wouldn’t

KENMA IS NOT ‘uwu owo’ SHY, HE IS ‘your fucking gross’ SHY SO LITERALLY STFU

Bokuto listens to Nicki Manaj. And knows all the words. To every. Single. Song.

Ushijima for some reason knows an odd amount of 90′s-2000′s R&B and he will hum along to the songs if they come on the radio (he also loves Dolly Parton) ((he says he relates to her music))

Bokuto once ate instant ramen for an entire month

TERUSHIMA DID TRY TO FUCK A PLANT WHILE SHITFACED AND GOD I STAND BY WHAT I SAID

atsumu let’s you put makeup on him and pretends to eat the brushes (do yk what im talking about- like n o m)

tendou ran for school president as a joke but actually won

i 100% believe that all of karasuno’s third years apologize when they bump into inanimate objects, but when suga is really tired or stressed out, he’ll yell at them instead.

Tanaka, Nishinoya, and Taketora have a group chat called "Bros who want sum hoes" and they send each other hypebeast memes and shit

Sugawara knows how to do a bunch of flexible shit because he sometimes goes to yoga with daichi and asahi's moms, its fucking hilarious

tanaka and noya both breakdance- they work as a team and sometimes go to tokyo for underground competitions- saeko drives them

Daichi knows a little ballet- nobody other than Kiyoko knows because they saw each other at the ballet class and had to work together- dont tell tanaka and noya that he lifted her though

Osamu once put glitter on Atsumu's pillow- he still finds hot pink glitter on shit

kita knits and crochets with his grandma

Kita's grandma knows everyone's names because kita talks shit bout them, her favorite is Aran

Kuroo has burnt his eyebrows off doing an experiment. His goggles didn't cover all his brows,,, so he just showed up to practice like that. No eyebrows and a chemical burn

kenma has played all kinds of games, but he was dared to play corpse party by kuroo. He wasn't scared because of the gore, he was thinking about the trauma the characters went through. Punched kuroo the next day because that game was fucked up

Lev isn't a strong swimmer, so he often grabs people by the head to keep himself up. happened with kenma and lev couldn't walk due to the force of kenmas suprised water kicks

akaashi has those fancy pens that you have to dip in ink and they're so nice

Bokuto has and will eat pencil erasers again

Daichi once almost lost his shit at his team but instead he lost his shit at the door that decided to stub his toe on the way out of the gym. not the best thing to be found yelling to.

Yamaguchi for sure has been dragged to one of terushimas parties because he didnt wanna say no. oh and terushima has like frat boy level parties too. Yams has for sure had some wild nights and doubts anyone other than Tsukishima and the party-goers will ever know

Akaashi can actually flirt very well! He reads romance novels sometimes and has analyzed any and every book in his possession! so he's actually quite charming

Daihsou unironically posted on twitter after mika broke up with him "I still see her shadows in my room"

Mattsun and Maki run a fake oikawa account; its been going ever since twitter even started getting popular and they even started sending messages in spanish. The posts would range from "I love all my fans!" to flirting with them :) Oikawa is pissed cause the account got verified before he did and most of his fans also follow the fake oikawa. Tooru has no idea who runs it JUST IMAGINE OIKAWA JUST LIKE RANTING TO THE SEIJOH 3RD YEAR ALUMNI AND JUST "no Iwa-chan, you dont understand! they run a fake account and pretend to be me!" while makki and mattsun laugh their asses off

Oh, kenma for sure has pretended to be a girl on discord and has gotten someone to buy him stuff. after they do he says in his normal voice "fucking simp" and then hangs up and blocks the other persons discord

Yamamoto, despite his rough appearance, loves kids and has and will be a human jungle gym

suna in middle school had a game with his friends about who could make kids cry the fastest

The twins switched places back in middle school and nobody could tell because of how great they are at acting like eachother

Daichi once arrested coach ukai for public intoxication after a game :|

Daichi has arrested many people from his old volleyball team but the most memorable case was when he arrested tanaka and noya for reckless driving. poor idiots got so scared when they saw their old captains face in their mirror and started to pray

tanaka, while trying to intimidate someone, once said "You dont gotta tell me twice, i may be straight but these hands are bisexual" and he often cringes at night thinking about it

Kageyama, as a comeback to Tsukishima, said "one thing about us royalty is that we love to feast" and he also fuckin hates what he said

the third years made a cult for Kiyoko. they chant every wednesday "i'll do anything for kiyoko, she makes me go loco"

oikawas fangirls are known to be fucking rabid

yAMAMOTO AND KENMA AFTER THEIR FIGHT WERE FORCED BY KUROO TO MAKE IT UP: so they dyed their hair together

Makki and mattsun sang two trucks in front of the entire team. everyone was so confused. Makki: "twO TRUCKS HAVIN SEX!!" Mattsun: "oH yEs!"THEY'D SWITCH OFF AND HAVE LIKE CHOREOGRAPHY TOO LIKE THEY'D DO A TANGO WHILE THE SONG IS LIKE "two beer trucks, making love"

tendou once called Oikawa "mr. no-nationals" and got kicked in the shins before iwaizumi could save him

Tsukishima had a my little pony phase

you work with matsukawa at a morgue and he makes dead people jokes while you fix some dead guys face with wax and makeup he'd be like "so didnt he like,,, stick his head out of the sunroof of a moving fuckin car??" he'd be singing dumb ways to die the entire day

i feel like Kuroo has one crazy accident a year. like it might not be deadly but its fucking crazy like for example: Kuroo for sure has ridden in a shopping cart at past midnight with kenma (who pushed him down a hill) causing Kuroo to get scratched up hella well. he lied and said he spent the night with a girl and kenma fucking hated himself cause he would be the girl if that was true

Mattsun has flirted with the 4th years moms before (AS A JOKE), and because of this: he is known as “fuckin milf hunter” sometimes by the team

Warning, this next headcanon is talking about cannabis, weed, mary jane, the zoink root. so if your uncomfortable, please dont read below :)

dude i wanna get high as SHIT with Asahi

i think Asahi would be one of those mfkers who takes one hit and is gone

ASAHI ACCIDENTALLY GOING TO PRACTICE ZOINKED

IMAGINE HIM SEEING TSUKISHIMA AND JUST "he looks so judgemental,,, im scared"

OR LIKE A MAD DAICHI AND JUST "i'm gonna,,, im gonna go jump out the window now"

Noya and Tanaka would know tho, i feel like they'd have a 6th sense when it comes to weed. they probably get some from Saeko cause she'd rather they do it in the house. they'd smell asahi like fucking dogs and just so,,, big guy had fun without us huh?

DAICHI WOULD KNOW ABOUT ASAHI BEING ZOINKED, SMASH HIS FACE INTO THE WALL, TURN AROUND WITH A RED MARK ON HIS FOREHEAD AND WITH A BEAMING SMILE AND FEUX ENTHUSIASM SAY: "YOSH, LETS WARM UP!"

#haikyuu #hq #haikyuu!!#haikyuu crack #haikyuu boys #haikyuu x reader #haikyū!!#haikyu x reader

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greenheartart · 4 years

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Monster Food Theories (part 2)

(A multi-part essay because I love world-building.)

In part 1 I discussed the theory that monster food is actually made from physical food that’s been infused with magic, and therefore monster food is limited to what can be farmed in the Underground.

In this next part, I’m going to springboard off that idea and talk about what foods exist in the Underground (and therefore what crops and livestock monsters likely have.)

The very first thing I want to look at is what food canonically exists in the game. I’m going to break this up into two sections...

1) Food We Interact With Directly (Healing items we can pick up and get information on.)

* Monster Candy - Has a distinct, non-licorice flavor. Heals 10 HP. * Spider Donut - A donut made with Spider Cider in the batter. Heals 12 HP. * Spider Cider - Made with whole spiders, not just the juice. Heals 24 HP. * Butterscotch Pie - Butterscotch-cinnamon pie, one slice. Heals ALL HP. * Snail Pie - Heals some HP. An acquired taste. Heals one less than max HP. * Nice Cream - Instead of a joke, the wrapper says something nice. Heals 15 HP. * Bisicle - It’s a two-pronged popsicle, so you can eat it twice. Heals 11 HP. * Unicicle - It’s a SINGLE-pronged popsicle. Wait that’s just normal... Heals 11 HP. * Cinnamon Bunny - A cinnamon roll in the shape of a bunny. Heals 22 HP. * Astronaut Food - For feeding a pet astronaut. Heals 21 HP. * Crab Apple - An aquatic fruit that resembles a crustacean. Heals 18 HP. * Sea Tea - Made from glowing marsh water. Increases SPEED for one battle. Heals 10 HP. * Abandoned Quiche - A psychologically damaged spinach egg pie. Heals 34 HP. * Temmie Flakes - It’s just torn up pieces of construction paper. Heals 2 HP. * Dog Salad - Recovers HP (Hit Poodles.) Heals 2/10/30/ALL HP. * Instant Noodles - Comes with everything you need for a quick meal! Heals 4/15/90 HP. * Hot Dog...? - The “meat” is made out of something called a “water sausage.” Heals 20 HP. * Hot Cat - Like a hot dog, but with little cat ears on the end. Heals 21 HP. * Junk Food - Food that was probably once thrown away. Heals 17 HP. * Starfait - A sweet treat made of sparkling stars. Heals 14 HP. * Glamburger - A hamburger made of edible glitter and sequins. Heals 27 HP. * Legendary Hero - Sandwich shaped like a sword. Increases ATTACK when eaten. Heals 40 HP. * Steak in the Shape of Mettaton’s Face - Huge steak in the shape of Mettaton’s face. You don’t feel like it’s made of real meat... Heals 60 HP. * Popato Chisps - Regular old popato chisps. Heals 13 HP. (Note: I’ve chosen to leave the Hush Puppy off of this list, as its description refers to it as a spell. I’m also excluding the foods that can only be found by digging around in the game files - Puppydough Ice Cream, Pumpkin Rings, Rock Candy, Croquet Roll, Ghost Fruit, and Stoic Onion.)

2) Food We Only See, or Hear About Through Character Dialogue (I did my best to be thorough here, but please let me know if I missed any and I’ll add them in!)

* Hamburger (For sale at Grillby’s) * Fries (For sale at Grillby’s) * Cheese Fries (Undyne likes them, for sale at Grillby’s) * Ketchup (Found at Grillby’s / Sans’ Hot Dog Stand) * Mustard (Found at Sans’ Hot Dog Stand) * Relish (Found at Sans’s Hot Dog Stand) * Spaghetti (Made by Papyrus and Undyne) * Lasagna/Ravioli/various other pastas (Mentioned by Papyrus) * Brewskis (aka Beer) (Mentioned in a prank call) * Sugar (In Undyne’s kitchen) * Soda (In Undyne’s kitchen / Alphys’ Lab) * Hot Chocolate (Mentioned by Undyne) * Marshmallows (Mentioned by Undyne) * Golden Flower Tea (In Undyne’s kitchen / Offered by Asgore) * Grapes (Undyne talks about Mettaton eating them) * Pizza (Undyne and Alphys both talk about ordering some) * Limes (Undyne mentions eating them whole) * Cucumbers (Come up when Undyne and Papyrus talk about spa treatments) * Carrots (Mentioned by Asgore on the tapes in the true lab) * Lollipops (Papyrus mentions getting them from the lady who runs the inn) * Ice cream (Mentioned multiple times by multiple characters) * Espresso (Mentioned by Red Bird at Grillby’s) * Cake (Mettaton specifically breaks the ingredients down into SUGAR, MILK, EGGS during his cooking segment) * Artificial Ingredients and Chemicals (Also mentioned by Mettaton)

(Note: I’m leaving edamame off the list because while Toriel mentions it, she does it as a joke because she’s after the pun. It’s possible that monsters have edamame, or it could just be something she’s aware exists in the world in general.)

So! Looking at this list, and cross referencing with recipes to find the most basic necessary ingredients to make everything, I can break things down more neatly into categories of available food:

STARCHES * Wheat * Potatoes * Barley

FRUITS AND VEGETABLES * Apples * Grapes * Limes * Tomatoes * Cucumbers * Spinach PROTEIN AND DAIRY * Snails * Water sausages * Eggs * Milk

HERBS AND SPICES * Cinnamon * Mustard Seed

MISC * Salt * Sugar * Oil * Coffee * Chocolate * Assorted artificial ingredients and chemicals * Golden flowers (unique to the Underground?) * Hops (only because of the mention of “brewskis”)

(Note: I’m excluding a few healing items from contributing to this list. The Astronaut Food’s origin is nebulous - it sounds like it could possibly be human food that fell from the surface and landed in the dump. Temmie Flakes are construction paper and not actually food, even if they are technically consumable. Dog Salad is clearly an outlier and should not be counted.)

When broken down to its base components, it’s a pretty small list. Monsters don’t seem to have a lot to work with.

A lot of their foods revolve around the same few staple ingredients: Flour, eggs, sugar, and milk products. From that we can take a guess that there are wheat fields somewhere in the Underground. Likewise, they likely keep chickens as well for eggs (though other birds like ducks might be a possibility too.) Sugar and milk have more options. Sugar might come from sugar cane or sugar beets, while milk could come from a variety of animals, but I think goats or sheep are more likely than cows for a variety of reasons (mainly that cows might be too much of a resource drain to support long term.)

Interestingly, we never get any indication that monsters eat animals besides snails. The information we get on the hot dogs and steak make it clear that they’re not made out of meat (and if the steaks aren’t meat, it feels reasonable that the hamburgers aren’t either.) This makes sense, since the Underground has limited space and resources and might not be able to support farms dedicated to raising animals for meat, and/or might not be able to meet the demands of a populace that wants to eat meat regularly. If it’s eaten at all, meat might be a rare treat. Otherwise, it looks like the monster population could be largely vegetarian.

With a basic list of crops, we can also make a guess at what sort of alcohols might be available in Grillby’s bar. Monsters have apples, grapes, potatoes, and sugar, so we can guess that in addition to beer (since it gets mentioned specifically), monsters could also have hard cider, wine, brandy, whisky, rum, vodka, and moonshine.

If we want to be a bit more generous and include possible foods and foods that didn’t quite make it officially into the game, we can add back in edamame, pumpkins, and onions.

And, just for fun and going off of nothing except the environment of the game, it wouldn’t be unreasonable to think monsters might be able to round out their pantries with a few other foods that occur naturally in the caverns. Mushrooms show up in the damper areas of the game, so it’s not far fetched to think that there might be a few edible varieties available. Likewise, we see streams and marshes in Waterfall that support life. It’s possible that there are fish, crayfish, or shellfish living in there, or possibly other edible plants besides the water sausage.

This went a bit longer than I originally planned, so in the next part I’ll talk about what might make monster food inherently different from human food (even without monsters intentionally doing anything to it), and possibly theories about how and why monsters ended up with this specific, limited variety of foods they seem to be working off of.

#writing things #game theory #undertale #all of this because I got to wondering whether or not monsters would know about tequila or not in a story I'm writing #hahaha

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whumpywhumper · 3 years

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Home

Masterpost

Set sometime in the future

TW: graphic depiction of panic attack but mostly fluff

@misspelledwitch @insanitywishes @imagination1reality0 @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @voidwhump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @captivity-whump @liliability @muumimafia @fanastywhump @elisabethrosewrites @unsure-but-alive-752 @jeverest00 @texdoeshalo @fanmanga1357-blog

Special thanks to: @0idril0 @rosesareviolentlyread @walkingchemicalfire @quirkykayleetam

V***V

Markus was walking down the street slowly. Trying for all he was worth to make it look like a stroll rather than a limping lurch.

It was hard with the way his hip and thigh were aching, but he’d been an okay actor in high school. His Hamlet was to die for, or so he’d been told.

He huffed, hitching up his jeans as they tried to slide down his hips again. The thick denim was loose around his waist, the weight he’d lost while still with Lucien and in the hospital absent from his lean frame. He hadn’t had the time, or the inclination, to go shopping for more clothes, and Illyn had brought what she could fit into a duffle bag from his wardrobe in Salem.

It had been weeks since he’d been dressed in anything other than sweats and loose basketball shorts, and he wasn’t going to let the pain in his leg interfere with going out with Ben and Kincaid. They’d invited him along, pulling him away from the files they’d reluctantly allowed him to have so that the could help with the case. Claimed that a stupid rom-com was just what he needed to gain some perspective.

Markus wasn’t sure that was true, but he was happy to be out now.

Kincaid bumped into his shoulder, and Markus looked up at the slightly taller man, Kinciad’s eyebrow raising as he cocked his head, a silent question in his hazel eyes. You okay?

Of course, his answering smile said. Why wouldn’t I be? His shoulders asked.

Kincaid didn’t look completely convinced, but he held the door open for Markus and Ben, entertaining Ben’s enthusiastic rant about an upcoming release of a new Marvel movie. Markus liked the classics, wasn’t a huge movie fan in the first place, but he couldn’t help but watch how Ben lit up as he discussed what he hoped the film included from the comics. His eyes sparkled behind his glasses, the shifting green/blue of his eyes dancing under the muted lights as he made sure to engage Markus and Kincaid equally, pulling indulgent smiles from Kincaid even as he held the conversation one-sided. It was, in a word, adorable.

Markus followed Kincaid’s hand as he placed it on Ben’s back, guiding the distracted man through the crowd. They moved so well together, a decade of friendship and partnership that baffled Markus with its easy beauty. He shook his head, trying to keep abreast of them despite his hidden limp as they made their way toward the concessions. They’d purchased their tickets online, but a lively discussion about appropriate movie candy and fare had taken up the walk on the way over.

Markus liked twizzlers. Kincaid and Ben both liked popcorn. But that’s where the agreement ended.

Kincaid liked buttered popcorn, whereas Ben thought that was an abomination of fake chemicals that didn’t deserve the salt that was blessed upon it. He, instead, liked plain, salted popcorn mixed with M&M’s of all things. It was a bitter, contested, and well-loved argument that, apparently, Markus was going to be the deciding vote on.

He was going to have to disappoint them both.

He didn’t like popcorn at all. It got stuck in his teeth. Ruining that for them before they got to the theater, however, wasn’t even an option. Having both Ben and Kincaid eagerly explaining the merits of their preferred snack to him, including him, laughing and egging each other on. It let Markus feel like he was part of them, even if it was just a little part, and he couldn’t help but crave it.

The first hint of unease started bubbling in Markus’s gut as they stood in the back of the line. His eyes darted around, taking in the people, the families and little kids screaming and running around to the arcade. The bright posters heralding blockbusters that he hadn’t been around to see advertised. The screens overhead flashing with even more advertisements and commercials. It was a little. . . overwhelming.

Markus stiffened when a hand brushed against his back, snapping his head around from where he’d been scrutinizing a couple of girls getting drinks from the in theater bar, meeting Ben’s concerned, questioning gaze with an automatic smile. “Sorry, I think I missed that?”

Ben smiled back, but the worry didn’t completely go away. “I asked if you were alright?”

Markus made his smile even brighter and consciously unclenched his hands from around his biceps, uncertain of when he’d even crossed his arms. “Of course, yeah,” he laughed, hoping it didn’t sound as forced as it felt, “just wondering if my alcohol tolerance has gone down. I used to be able to drink Clint under the table, ya know?”

Ben and Kincaid both chuckled at that, shaking their heads. Kincaid slung an arm around Ben’s shoulders, gesturing for them both to move up in line. “I’m sure that he tells a different story.”

“Well yeah,” Markus answered, relieved that they seemed to be accepting his distraction, “he’s got to keep the big, bad werewolf reputation intact.”

“Thaaat’s the reason, sure,” Ben snorted, pointing at the different drink options.

Markus blinked as Ben’s attention wavered, eyes flitting to the people that sidled up in the line next to them, watching how they interacted, their laughter or phone calls washing over him in a wave of sound. He swallowed, throat feeling tight, not recognizing that his arms were crossing back over his chest again. He knew that there was anxiety building, but he couldn’t accept that that’s what was happening. Not over something so simple as a trip to the movie theater.

He shook himself, blinking hard, mind scrambling to make sense of what was going on in his own head, and he forcibly settled his shoulders as he realized it was the first time he’d been around so many people since he’d gotten away from Lucien. It was supposed to help, recognizing the trigger, right?

“Hey, Markus?”

Jumping a little at Kincaid’s voice, Markus forced an automatic, quizzical expression, like he hadn’t been a million miles away, and met the other man’s gaze. “Hmmm?”

Kincaid’s mouth tilted in a knowing smile. “Can you go grab some straws?” he asked, eyebrows lifting meaningfully at the darker section of the atrium where the napkins, straws, and fake, powdered cheese lived.

Markus nodded, smiling back, concealing his gratefulness and moved away from the crowded concession lines.

But the further he got from Ben and Kincaid, the more his fear seemed to build. He stumbled as a little girl with two huge pig tails tripped in front of him, catching himself hard on his bad leg, barely hearing her high pitched apology as his heartbeat roared in his ears—the memory of being thrown, of being held down and stabbed—flashing in front of his eyes. He gasped raggedly, stumbling into the corner, eyes lowered to avoid the gaze of the other people there. Fuck, he thought, gasping tightly in the back of his throat, fuck.

Markus’s heart was a rustling bird in his chest, thumping away at his breastbone in an effort to escape. The roar of air in his ears was deafening, the farther he plummeted downward, the harder the desperate flapping of the trapped bird became, his lungs expanding like fluttering wings, unable to collect enough air to keep him from crashing. Fuck, fuck, I can’t breathe. He grabbed ahold of the counter. Trying to keep from going to his knees in the middle of a goddamn movie theater.

He was in a movie theater, right? His blinked, eyelids fluttering, gaze roving across the room, not quite seeing the garish posters, the advertisements for next year’s blockbusters. The milling crowd and arcade games turned into a bright blur, arching across his vision with a kaleidoscope of color. Like he was high, his pupils unfocused and dilated with the overhead lights.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Markus jerked, sucking in a short gasp as his muscles clamped down, not letting him move. Freezing him in place. He ducked his head, his shoulders drawing up around his ears, protecting the sides of his neck.

A strong hand encircling his bicep made him choke down a whimper, and his gaze jerked to the person touching him, his breath completely stopping in his chest. Blond hair. Tall. Pale.

No. Nononofuck.

He tried to back away, shaking legs threatening to buckle as he tried to put more weight on his aching leg. Markus stumbled again, thudding into the counter, and his hand left its white knuckled grip on the counter to grab at the hot fury in his hip.

“No need to be so jumpy there,” the other man laughed, his hand tightening as he steadied Markus. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost? Did you see that new Annabelle movie or something?”

Markus shook his head, numb to what his expression was, eyes wide as he tried to pull himself from the panic. “N-no,” his mouth wouldn’t cooperate, lungs starving for oxygen even as he prepared himself to beg, “pl-ease.”

Suddenly, Ben was there, shoving the other man’s hand away, pushing the blond back. “Back off.” The words were hollow, pounding drum notes, the echo wrong in Markus’s ears as his brain tried to keep up with the wild thud of his heartbeat.

Ben, Ben don’t— He tried to reach for him, his hand leaving his hip with a flutter as he tried to get it to move past the electric, flashing pain in the joint. The fear Markus felt at the other human facing the Elder was instinctive, terrifying. He wouldn’t have a chance. Ben would die. Ben, please, not Ben.

But then Kincaid was there too, his broad shoulders crowding in front of him, blocking his view, enveloping Markus in his warmth. “Easy, Markus, shhhh,” he ducked his head, honey hazel eyes meeting Markus’s, weaving to keep in Markus’s eye line as he tried to see Ben. “No, sweet guy, c’mon, look at me.” That tell-tale tingle of magic travelled down his spine when Kincaid’s hand wrapped around the back of his neck, his thumb brushing through the short hairs at his nape.

Markus shuddered, gasping, ribs starting to ache with weight of his shaking breaths. There were angry murmurs, and Ben’s raised voice. Ben shouldn’t be confronting Lucien, no. “I-I c-can’t—Ben, can’t—“ he still couldn’t breathe, “Lucien—“

“No, Markus, shhhh,” Kincaid’s other hand cupped his cheek, forcing his gaze to stay on him, “Lucien isn’t here, okay? Ben’s fine. Look at me, breathe with me, c’mon.” He started taking a slow breath through his nose, letting it out through his pursed lips, demonstrating for Markus, trying to calm him down.

He heaved in a heavy breath, not hearing the unsteady, short moan humming through his throat. “Kin—“ he panted, “Kin’, please, I—“

“Alright, no, I know,” Kincaid released the hold he had on his cheek, pulling Markus’s hand from the counter and to his chest. “You’re alright, grab hold, just like we practiced.” Markus felt the dangling charms of his grahm brushing against his fingers, and latched onto it, his fumbling grasp tightening as much as he could. “Breathe in,” Kincaid murmured softly, “One, two, three, four, hold—“

Kincaid took him all the way through the breathing exercise, murmuring softly to him the whole time, keeping their eyes locked together. His thumb didn’t stop its slow caress, brushing back and forth, back and forth, through his hair. “Good job,” he whispered, once Markus’s breath started to actually match his own, “good job, sweet guy, shhhh.” He brought their foreheads together, and Markus swayed into him, releasing the death grip on his hip to clutch at Kincaid’s t-shirt, clinging to him as the panic left him empty and aching. They were breathing the same air, and Markus could smell the popcorn and Coke on the other man’s breath.

Markus’s eyelashes fluttered closed, and he let out another shaking breath. “—Kin’,” he whispered, not sure what he was wanting to say.

“I’m right here, baby, shhhh,” Kincaid wound his free hand around Markus’s back, trapping Markus’s grahm and his hand between them, pulling him as tightly into his embrace as he could. Surrounding him, protecting him. His frantic heartbeat slowed, settling in his chest, letting Markus take a full, deep breath.

When they pulled apart, Markus felt punch drunk. He staggered slightly, still in the circle of Kincaid’s arms, eyelids heavy and half-lidded. Kincaid took some of his weight, palm bracing his lower back, face still so very close to Markus’s.

He jumped when someone else touched him, head sluggishly snapping toward toward the newcomer. It was Ben, and Markus’s breath left him again with both a sense of relief that the other man was okay and with fear, realizing just how close he was to Ben’s partner, the way that they were curled into each other. “Ben . . . “ he breathed, voice faint.

The answering smile he received didn’t hold any of the anger that he’d expected, none of the territorial hostility that should have been there with Markus ensconced in an intimate embrace with the love of Ben’s life. Ben’s hand pressed against his shoulder blades, fingers spread wide and possessive, encouraging Markus to stay right were he was in Kincaid’s arms. “It’s okay, Bambi,” he said softly, warmly, “It’s okay.” Ben had foregone his glasses, and his dusky, blue eyes were were sparkling, lines evident as his lips stretched into a welcoming smile. “Let’s go home, yeah?”

Markus swallowed, still feeling dazed as he turned toward Ben, not capable of leaving the warmth that surrounded Kincaid. “But. . . the movie?” he asked, words slightly slurred with the oncoming fatigue. Nothing sounded better than going ho—going to Ben and Kincaid’s—and falling into an early sleep, but he didn’t want to ruin their night out. He could make it through a movie.

Kincaid shook a head, his nose brushing Markus’s temple. “It doesn’t matter, Markus,” the hand still on the back of Markus’s neck swept up to cradle the back of his head, Kincaid’s thick, calloused fingers woven through his hair, “do you want to go home?”

He let the weight of Kincaid’s hand pull him forward, so that he was pressed into the crook of the bigger man’s neck, hiding his face from the curious gazes he could see in the periphery of his vision. He nodded, curling his shoulders in, making himself smaller.

“Okay, then let’s go home,” Kincaid whispered, pressing a kiss to his hair.

Ben sidled up to his other side, free hand under Markus’s elbow, and between them, they took some of Markus’s weight so that he could follow their lead through the crowd, not letting himself acknowledge the people they passed. If his limp was more prominent now, it didn’t matter.

He was going home.

#Markus/Lucien Series #Panic Attack: TW #Aftermath of Captivity #polyamory #mostly fluff #Markus Protection Squad

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meetthetank · 3 years

Text

Beast Code Chapter 1: The Twilit City

Rating: Mature Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Category: F/M Fandom: NieR: Automata (Video Game) Relationship: 2B/9S (NieR: Automata) Characters: 2B (NieR: Automata), 9S (NieR: Automata), Original YoRHa Characters (NieR: Automata) Additional Tags: Transformation, gothic horror, Android Lycanthropy...sort of, Inspired by Bloodborne (Video Game), Everyday i get closer to just writing a Bloodborne AU

Summary: Break the vicious cycle with tooth and claw. Unleash the beast within and destroy your chains. But the strength to defy fate comes at a grave cost. Will it be enough, little doll? Or will you succumb to despair once more?

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31546982

The assignment to the Twilight Belt comes as a shock to 2B and 9S. Rarely, if ever, are YorHa units sent to this border of perpetual daylight and eternal night. Conditions are always reported as unstable by the infrequent scans by one of the other satellite bases that orbit earth, too dangerous to deploy scanners by themselves, and too depleted of resources for the Council to care about. The mystery surrounding the strip of permanent twilight goads curious operators and scanners alike to comb through files searching for nuggets of data, image or video files, anything they can get their hands on. All but a few pieces of data reveal tantalizing scraps and clues to the puzzle of the Sunset Belt. Photographs of dead machines with toothy, gaping maws that split their spherical heads in two and minerals warped in peculiar shapes. According to one of the situation reports from a scanner that had been sent there, there was an eerie, foreboding feeling about the place; that strange and frightening sounds would echo across the landscape and that he felt close to a forbidden barrier that separated this world from another. Though the file and its contents are now treated as a human “ghost story”, many androids, including 2B and 9S, believe at least some portion of the tale.

9S relays this story to 2B as they descend to Earth’s surface, his chattering easing some of 2B’s trepidation. The pair had fallen into an easy rhythm over the course of several assignments to Earth, most of which involved retrieving data from lost servers buried in rubble or clearing out an area of machine lifeforms. Despite her outwardly cold demeanor, 9S wormed his way past all of her defenses, forming a strong, solid relationship with the battler android. His voice is a centering point for her and assists in ignoring the gut churning possibilities of what could be waiting for them below.

“...What do you think, 2B?” his voice crackles from the comms system inside her flight unit.

“Hm?” she shifts her head to the side, glancing at his jet black flight unit cruising beside hers.

“What do you think made the target go rogue?”

She bites her lower lip. There are a thousand possible answers as to why a normally punctual, efficient YorHa Battle unit would suddenly stop responding to command and not checking in at required times. Only a few of those options were machine lifeform related complications.

“We’ll find out when we arrive, 9S.” she says curtly, eager to shut down the conversation, “Focus on landing protocol.”

He sighs, a sound of annoyance and frustration, “Yeah, yeah.”

“One affirmation will-”

“Fiiiiiiiine.”

The final phase of their descent is spent in silence. They pass through the Earth’s atmosphere in streaks of fire and light towards the border of day and night, and a continent that humans called Europe. Even as they descend, the outlines of ancient, massive structures come into view. Both androids are used to the thick vegetation eating away at the remains of human structures, but here the trees are gnarled, twisted, and void of leaves or blossoms. Their branches reach to the crimson sky and permanently setting sun like bony hands in prayer or a stag’s antlers. As 2B and 9S set their flight units down a few miles away from the outskirts of a sprawling, ancient city. It amazes 9S, as he exits his own unit, that the buildings are in such good condition considering the millenia that have passed it by. Great spires of countless cathedrals pierce the heavens, casting an ominous, looming shadow over the otherwise barren landscape. A well worn cobblestone road, lined with rusted iron lighting fixtures long since burnt out, leads into the city proper.

2B and 9S stand at the precipice of this ancient beast of stone and metal in awe of its size, and terrified of what might lurk within. A hoarse bird’s caw, jolts the androids back into awareness, 2B drawing her katana and prepares for battle.

“Heh,” 9S laughs, trying to calm them both down, “Just a raven, 2B.”

“What?”

“A large black bird. Harmless to us.” He doesn’t tell her about the chill he gets down his spine as he watches the corvid gaze down at them with beady black eyes, or how humans saw these birds as ill omens or prophets of death.

They begin the trek into the forgotten city. 2B doesn’t put Virtuous Contract away.

Pod 042 alerts 2B to the presence of an unidentifiable android signal, marking the location on both hers and 9S’ map. Since the area has yet to be properly mapped out by satellite imagery (as inaccurate as that process is) only a vague street layout is available through a very low power scan. They have no way of judging what might block their path to the target beyond featureless grey masses depicting buildings, rubble, large trees, or whatever else may lie in wait. Their target, represented by a small orange dot on the map, appears to be near the city’s main gate and inside one of the larger buildings. 2B refuses to admit it to herself, but she’s relieved to not have to delve too far into this labyrinthine city.

“I’ve never seen the sky this color…” 9S muses as he stares up, transfixed by the blood red sky and orange sun hanging low.

Though hauntingly beautiful, she won’t deny, 2B keeps her gaze fixed on the wrought iron gate ahead of them. The heavens disturb her; they are the color of death. Of war. And the sun is… wrong.

She snaps at 9S to keep focused as they approach the gate to the city. Though scans indicate there are no machine lifeforms, or any lifeforms beyond their target, she’s learned from countless combat assignments to not rely totally on what the support unit reports. She’s encountered and seen machines that mask themselves from scans or camouflage themselves in the environment, and in a place like this anything could be hiding in the shadows just outside of view.

The iron gate lies ajar, worn from millennia of neglect. Clouds of rust particles burst from the hinges as 2B shoves it open further, the metal grinding against itself with a horrible grating shriek. The sound makes them both wince, and they slip through the partially opened gate as soon as they can.

Standing inside the city gates, 9S can’t shake the uneasy feeling that claws at the back of his mind. The great ancient human structures loom above them, and though he knows that the buildings themselves aren’t alive, he can’t shake the notion that he’s being watched by them. The windows are dark, but when he passes by the light of the setting sun reflects off of them, giving them the illusion of intelligence. Suddenly, 9S feels as if he’s inside a cave, or locked in a room with no exit. Suddenly… He finds it hard to breathe. 9S tugs at the collar of his jacket as if it's tightening around his throat. His synthetic lungs fill with air as much as he can take, then he releases it moments later. It calms him, if only a little.

2B’s gaze is fixed ahead on the building Pod 042 marked as the rogue android’s hiding place. It’s a much smaller structure than the others that choke the sky, but its reach stretches across the streets like a tree’s roots. Judging by the well preserved signs that hang from crumbled doors it looked to have multiple uses. 9S commands his own Pod to run scans on the words and symbols for later analysis.

“The target’s in here…” 2B murmurs, holding her free hand up in a tight fist, signaling 9S to stop behind her.

This portion of the sprawling building is similar in structure to the massive spires above. It has the same pointed section on the roof, but much smaller in scale, and similar symbols decorate the exterior. A cross, winged humans, various flowering plants, and a number of human figures bowing their heads or supplicating themselves to the winged humans.

“This must have been a place of worship,” 9S muses aloud.

“Focus.”

He nods. Typically 9S argues with his partner about the necessity for recording data like this, or excuse his wandering attention to his designation as a scanner, but he knows the danger within the house of worship, or rather, he doesn’t know. Neither one of them knows what this rouge android is capable of.

2B presses her hand against the wooden doors to the chapel and pushes it open as slowly as possible. It groans in protest, dust falls from its hinges and frame, but it swings inward. A rush of warm air washes over them carrying the scent of stale incense and dead machines. Clouds of smoke billow out of the doorway, rising into the red sky like twisted fingers. 2B enters first, sliding in sword arm first. She motions for 9S to wait for a moment, then commands Pod 042 to switch on its flashlight.

9S peeks his head around the door, keeping a few paces behind his partner. He switches on his own Pod’s flashlight to illuminate more of the pitch black interior. Long wooden benches are pushed up against the walls, opening up the center space. Ornate candle holders, rotting books, charred incense burners, and pieces of artwork among other things 9S has no name for are scattered across the ground, each one a priceless human artifact that could fuel hours of study. Yet it’s not these that hold 9S’ attention, but the statue at the far back of the chapel, and the figure kneeling in front of it.

It looks to be made of some kind of marble, a pristine white stone that has been sheltered from time and the elements. The subject is another winged human, this one wearing splendid armor and wielding a great spear. Beneath them, a grotesque, writhing beast bares its teeth and claws at the warrior as the blade pierces its throat. 9S has never seen anything like it in person, and very few records of these kinds of sculptures remain at all. It’s both horrific and beautiful at once. He wonders what the human who made this saw that inspired it. Did creatures like these roam the world during their time?

2B steps in front of him, Virtuous Contract at the ready. The figure in front of the statue rises to their feet as the Pod’s flashlights center on them. A cloak made of feathers conceals most of their form but they appear to be a female android, perhaps a YorHa model. Though, if that were the case it would have been in the mission briefing. That is, unless...

The android turns her head to the side, glaring at the pair over her shoulder.

“So, Command sent the wolves, did they?” She asks, a distinct rumble in her voice.

2B raises her blade and keeps her gaze steady. She hears 9S also ready his weapon, the golden katana Cruel Oath.

Lazily, the android turns her body to face them. Her clothes confirm her origins; there’s no mistaking the sharp white embellishments and black velvet of a YorHa uniform; however each piece is ripped, tattered, and stitched together with other scraps of clothing or… animal hide.

The rouge android drags the blade of a bloodied top heavy sword between her fingers, cleaning the gore from it. “It doesn’t matter, dog.” Her eyes shine with a strange, purplish light that refracts around her collapsed, twisted pupils. “You will fall like the rest.”

It isn’t until the rogue android rushes forward, sword raised, that 2B sees the corpses of YorHa units piled in front of the statue, and the blood that soaks it.

She dashes backward and shoves the bewildered 9S out of harm's way. The android’s bloodied sword crashes into the stonework floor, sending thousands of years of dust into the air. 2B lunges, her katana poised to take advantage of the enemy’s opening, but she sidesteps much quicker than anticipated. The rogue’s fist slams into 2B’s chest, distorting her internal sensors and throwing her off balance. 2B watches in horror as the rogue drives her sword towards her, but a golden flash knocks the blade away.

“2B!” 9S shouts, brandishing Cruel Oath. “Are you okay?!”

She shakes her head as if it would clear the internal errors from her vision, but she assumes her battle stance next to her partner. “Fine.”

Both androids launch into an assault on the rogue, attacking in tandem. Despite 2B’s scrambled sensors, she and 9S have an undeniable synergy that comes with countless missions. 2B forces the rogue back with singular, powerful blows, while 9S jabs at any opening he can reach from the sides. However, even with their combined might the rogue deflects and maneuvers out of the way of each attack as casually as one would flick away an insect or step around a puddle. She looks to be expending no effort at all as she dances around the two YorHa. Anger and frustration rises in 2B, culminating in a harsh growl. She mimics the rogue’s tactic from earlier, rushing forward and feinting with a crushing overhead strike that is easily dodged but allows no time for recovery. She slams her fist into the rogue android’s face, sending her stumbling backwards. Before 9S can dive in with a horizontal slash the rogue dashes backward, putting crucial distance between her and her hunters.

The rogue android lowers her gaze at the pair, sizing them up, taking stock of their abilities and assessing their weaknesses. 2B watches her eyes dart back and forth between her and 9S, then linger on 9S. Sensing the rogue’s motive and deciding at that moment that the outcome is unacceptable, 2B dives in front of the strike meant for 9S. The rogue’s sword slices cleanly through her chest, coating the rogue’s clothes in splatters of fresh blood. The battler falls to her knees, clutching the wound with one hand while supporting herself on her sword.

“No!!” 9S screams and lunges at their target. “2B!!”

“Hm. Interesting.” The rogue murmurs, easily deflecting the scanner’s wild strikes.

2B watches through blurred, error obscured vision as 9S drives the rogue back. If she didn’t know any better it’d seem that he has the upper hand, but the rogue’s eyes glint in a way 2B recognizes all too well. She’s baiting him.

9S slams his blade against the rogue’s, pressing all of his power and weight into the strike. It’s the moment she had been waiting for. Suddenly she pulls back, letting 9S’ weight fall forward and forcing him off balance. She kicks his legs out from under him then shoves him into the floor. 9S lets out a startled, choked gasp as his weight and the force of the rogue’s attack cracks the stone floor, sending up more clouds of dust into the air.

Clutching her chest, 2B roars and charges at the target with blinding speed. When she sees the smirk twisting the rogue’s lips and the pointed iron rod in her grip, it’s too late. With a flash of her crowfeather cape, the android meets 2B’s charge with her own, the skewer aimed at her wounded chest. 2B tries to divert her body away, but the momentum is too strong. It’s just enough to roll her body to the side so that the spike pierces clean through her shoulder, clear of critical systems.

The pain, however, is agonizing.

It’s different from the injuries 2B has suffered in the past. Countless machine swords, spears, and axes have torn through her body and of course all of those injuries hurt, but they were manageable. When the iron bar rips through layers of cloth, skin, carbon plating and frame, and synthetic muscle fibers it's as if her shoulder has been set on fire. She clenches her teeth, muffling a scream to a low growl. Her hand wraps around the skewer, close to the wound itself. Instinct tells her to tear it out immediately, but she knows that without treatment doing so would only worsen her condition. 2B doesn’t get to make that decision, unfortunately. The rogue grabs hold of the end of the iron rod and twists it side to side, driving it further into 2B’s shoulder.

2B sinks to her knees and tries to hold back the cries of agony. Her injured arm stops responding to commands and lies limp and useless against her side. She swats at the rogue android with her weakening other arm, desperate to escape from this torment. Her strength fades along with her vision; it becomes impossible to even hold herself upright.

She must not fall, she must not… she must stay strong, she must stay alive.

She will not allow him to die…

Not for the sake of a monster like her….

9S leaps into the fight as the rogue android prepares a killing blow. A flurry of Pod fire, sword strikes, and furious movement all blur together into a white, gold, and black haze. She fights to stay awake, she fights to stand, but her body begins to shut down non-vital systems and conserve as much energy as she can. First her tactile sensors switch off, leaving her in a numbing cold. Then her hearing, quickly followed by sight. A warning flashes across the last vestiges of her vision that she is entering a forced shutdown state, and despite her audio sensors being deactivated, she swears she hears 9S cry out for her.

….

…….

………

……….

……..

….

2B opens her eyes to the blinding, sterile white of hacking space. This itself is not shocking. Oftentimes she would run diagnostics on her critical systems when in a forced shutdown, both to manage critical systems and to keep herself busy.

But now, in the distance, there is an anomaly.

A single figure, black as night, approaches her. It’s shape is human up till its head, which sports pointed ears and a long snout like that of a dog or wolf. It looms over her and leaves a black, fragmented mist in its wake. But most troubling of all in this world of stark monochrome is its eye…. or what 2B believes is an eye. In the center of its lupine face is a strange geometric sigil that emits a highly saturated purple light. It feels… malicious. The thought itself is insane to 2B. Light cannot possess intent or emotions, and yet…

“This is an unacceptable outcome.” A voice booms in her head. Somehow she knows it is the entity speaking.

2B opens her mouth to respond, but instead of words, thick crimson fluid leaks from her throat.

“You will die. He will die. You cannot abide by this.”

She shakes her head. Droplets of blood fall to the pristine floor. The entity is right. If she has any strength left, 9S will live.

“Stand, little doll,” the entity commands, “Stand and unleash y-...Be——…..d.”

The entity’s voice becomes warped and distorted with audio glitches, yet 2B understands its words with frightening clarity.

“Take-......l-...s within.”

It holds a hand out to her, offering her something she can’t quite make out. The shape in its palm is amorphous, colorless, and flickers with lines of jumbled code. Somehow, she knows this piece of herself in intimate detail, yet cannot remember what this does or what its relation to the entity is.

But it promises strength enough to save 9S.

2B reaches out and takes the code in her hand…

….

………….

…………………………

………………………………………………………..

Her eyes snap open. A current of raw energy runs through her body, electrifying every nerve and sensor within her. She shakes with each pulse of her circulatory apparatus as a new, terrifying strength takes hold. 2B rises to her feet, flexing her hands, legs, arms. One arm’s movement is restricted by the iron bar still stuck in her shoulder. She tears it out with little effort, casting it to the floor. The rattling, hollow sound echoes against the stone chapel.

The rogue’s head snaps up from her combat with 9S, who is barely able to hold his sword. Something in her expression changes. She kicks 9S and points her sword at 2B, her arms shaking in a way they had not before.

2B lunges forward, her sword raised high. The rogue raises her own sword to deflect, but 2B’s newfound strength breaks her guard with one mighty strike. With blinding speed 2B slices through the rogue android’s body. Her crowfeather cape flutters to the floor, soon followed by her arm. The rouge android staggers back, an expression of shock and horror twisting her face. 2B drives her sword through the rogue’s chest, forcing her back further. Instead of drawing her sword back for another strike, a terrifying feeling takes over 2B. She leaves the sword inside the rogue’s chest and tackles her to the ground. With her bare hands and horrible strength, 2B delivers blow after blow to the android’s chest, shoulder, arms, head, and abdomen. Each piece is reduced to a pulp of flesh and metal one after the next until nothing remains but scrap.

2B throws her head back as she straddles her victim, a horrible, twisted grin plastered across her face and arms outstretched. Her body feels wrong… horribly wrong, yet for the first time since she can remember, her chest is light. She gazes up at the morbid sculpture with an emotion she can’t quite describe. It isn’t the same as a combat high, she is intimately familiar with that heady rush. This is something akin to… euphoria. A laugh begins to bubble up in her throat-

“2B?”

She’s forced back to reality by the 9S’ voice, right beside her ear. Suddenly, the terrible strength from moments before fades from her body. Her arms go limp by her sides, and it becomes hard to sit upright. Even breathing is laborious. 9S wraps his arms around her shoulders and tugs her gently, laying her head and shoulders against his chest.

“I’ve got you. We… I think we’re safe.” His breathing is uneven and ragged, much like 2B’s. He swivels his head back and forth, searching for any lingering threats as quickly as possible. “Pod, run a scan for machine lifeform or android signals in the immediate area,” he commands.

Pod 153 is silent for a moment, then emits a grating, hideous garbled noise. Words try to break through the audio distortions but neither 2B or 9S is confident it isn’t simply what they wish to hear.

“Alert:” Pod 042 begins, “Interference from unknown source is preventing accurate scans of the surrounding area. Proposal: Relocate to an elevated aaaaaaa…..a-r-....rrr……”

The same audio distortions come from 042, mingling with 153’s until they both cut off, leaving the androids in silence. “Pod?” 9S calls to the floating support unit. “Pod, respond. ... Pod?”

2B mutters weakly to her own Pod, but it's the same as 9S’. No response at all.

9S pulls up a small data screen, map data, from what 2B can tell. Or… where map data would be. Instead, there’s a blank, grey screen and a little message box that reads No Data.

“What the-...” 9S whispers, flipping through different screens at a frantic pace. “Where-... There’s… all the data is gone!” he shouts, “No map, no signal scans… I can’t even connect to the Bunker…”

“We’re stranded…” 2B muses aloud.

Silence passes between them. Only the ominous wind passing through ancient wood and stone reminds them that the world hasn’t stopped moving around them.

“We should move to a higher area, like your Pod said.” 9S suggests, rising to his feet. “Can you stand?”

When 9S offers a hand out to her, 2B takes it without thinking. His touch, even through his thick gloves, calms the beast pacing inside her.

Beast?

…..What does that mean?

2B rises to her feet, her hands lingering in 9S’ for a moment longer than she normally would. There’s a fog in her head that distorts her equilibrium. She leans on 9S for support, to which he wraps his arm around her waist and positions himself under her shoulder.

“I got you.” He says with a small smile.

2B feels just a bit lighter.

They exit the chapel and make for higher ground. 9S rationalizes that if they simply continue up stairs or inclines they would find a space clear of whatever is interfering with the Pod’s satellite connections. Perhaps it’s the fog that creeps across the cobblestone streets or the odd angle of the sun (not that it makes sense to 9S or 2B but they have to consider all possibilities), or perhaps it’s something beyond that. There’s a strange, eerie feeling about this city that neither can explain, and neither want to talk about. As if there’s a presence constantly watching over them.

They climb the stairs of one of the massive sprawling religious buildings. From what 9S assesses, it seems to have one of the tallest spires in the city. Only a larger time-keeping building looming in the distance is larger. If he could reach the top he should be far enough above whatever is interfering with the Pods. When he relays his plan to 2B who only nods, her eyes unfocused and breathing shallow, worry starts to lace its icy fingers through his chest. Something is wrong with her.

9S’ first instinct is to prepare a data backup with the bunker, but the Pods are both out of commission for the time being. His next is to contact command and ask how they should proceed, to the same conclusion. Climbing the spire is the only course of action he can take, but first, he has to make sure 2B is safe.

He leads her through the castle of worship, now supporting most of her weight. That… frightening show of strength must have exhausted her power supply. There are plenty of well preserved wooden benches that stretch across half of the main worship chambers, at least it would be more comfortable than the stone floors. Under watch by the countless grotesque statues that sit in the rafters, 9S helps 2B onto a long bench, laying her on her back. She hisses and grinds her teeth as she moves. She must have sustained internal damage from that fight…

“I’ll be right back,” he promises, “I’m going to go to the roof to get a clear signal.”

All 2B gives in response is a slow nod. He lingers by her side before leaving, a moment longer than needed.

Now alone in this spacious, hollow, human structure, 2B takes stock of her condition. There’s pain in her shoulders, particularly her right arm. Her legs are tight, most locking up from the strain of the previous battle and trekking up to her current location. Her back, as well, is tense beyond discomfort. It spasms and jolts if she breathes too hard. At least these are injury related, explainable. The black wolfman with purple eyes lingering in the corners of her vision, is not.

She sees the entity in the shadows, lurking just out of view. 9S walks right past it, not even sparing a glance at the tall, gangly creature. It doesn’t respond to 9S either, instead focusing on 2B and only 2B.

The sight of it makes her stomach turn. She tries to close her eyes, but the glowing, purple sigil is burned into her vision. With a groan she digs her knuckles into her eyelids as if she could carve the hallucination out of the air. Defeated, 2B lets her arms down once more. One hand touches the cool stone floor, decorated with elegant mosaics, and she suddenly realizes how warm she is. According to the warning messages displayed in her vision her body temperature is ten degrees above normal levels.

“Pod,” she groans, forcing herself to sit up, “retrieve water from storage-”

“Report: Mail notification received from Command.”

The monotone voice of her support unit shocks her. Pod 042 had been silent up until now due to whatever interference was in the area, and now it’s getting messages from Command? 9S must have established a connection from the roof.

Her heart sinks. If that’s the case he would contact her. The first thing she’d hear would be his voice.

She opens the message, dreading its contents.

Subject has accessed confidential records. Eliminate the Target.

At the top of the spire 9S takes in the view of the entire city, the wind rushing through his hair. It’s breathtaking. It’s unlike anything he’s ever seen. The sky dyes the entire urban sprawl red, as well as the mountains on the horizon. His pulse races as he drinks in the terrifying awe of what the ancient humans were capable of, hoping to remember every last detail of the buildings, the streets, and the magnificent sculptures that litter the city. It’s all so well preserved that he feels as though a human might appear, walking down the cobblestone streets as if nothing were wrong. As if they didn’t go extinct.

Reluctantly he draws his attention away from the splendor of humanity’s ruins, and shakes away the creeping emptiness that comes with that line of thought. He can’t think about that now. He and 2B are stranded. 9S produces a holographic terminal that mirrors Pod 153’s settings menu. Pod’s diagnostics on his end show buildup of foreign material in and around certain receivers, something that 9S expects, but that is only part of the problem. It seems that the atmosphere in this place is clogged with various chemicals and particles that make satellite transmissions more difficult. Considering all of the decaying metal and stone it’s no wonder that there’s so much particulate in the air. Once Pod’s receivers are clear 9S has Pod 153 hover just above the spire’s tip. It stays suspended in the air, the small light on the top of its body turning on and off at regular intervals.

“Connection established.” Pod 153 announces moments later. “Proposal: Contact the Bunker for support.”

“Great! Set up a relay connection for Pod 042 as well.”

“Affirmative.”

9S opens a data screen laden with information and begins composing his message to Operator 21O. With an unreliable connection a live call would be too risky, a simple text based message won’t be distorted or cut out. He records a brief message, attaches a transcription of his words, and sends it to the Bunker. Hopefully 21O would send something quickly-

A flash of movement in the streets below catches his eye. Something running on all fours... “Pod… run a scan for machine lifeforms…” He says, a chill creeping up his spine.

Pod 153 floats down to his side. “Alert: Multiple machine lifeforms detected. Proposal: Regroup with Unit 2B.”

“But-”

That thing didn’t look like a machine…

“Alert: Anomalous signal detect-”

Pod 153’s words are drowned by a horrific, mournful howl that reverberates through the entire building. 9S clings to the ornate decorations on the spire and covers his ears with his free hand. His body runs cold. He’s never heard a sound like that before. Nothing the machines make comes close to that. The pain and sorrow in that noise is something that no animal could produce either. That left only one possibility…

Another roar wracks the building from within…

2B clutches the sides of her head, the data screen long dismissed.

No…

Her chest strains under her panicked breaths.

No.

She hadn’t been watching him. She hadn’t been keeping track of his questions and behavior…

No… No.

And now she…

No no no no no .

She has to…

no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no.

NO.

She will not do this. Not again.

Her skin feels… tight.

She will fight off every single goddamn android Command sends until there are none left but her and him. She will not be a part of this cycle again. Her hands curl into fists as a surge rushes through her body, alighting her nerves with energy. With power.

A shadow moves across the stone floor of the castle of worship. The entity, its form inky black, its sigil emitting a baleful purple light, glides towards her. It bathes her in the highly saturated light, a light not even shielding her eyes can diffuse. It bores into her core, it peers into her mind. It speaks into her mind.

“You will not allow this to happen.” Its voice echoes off the hollow shell of where humans once sought God. “But strength comes at a price, little doll.”

The entity plunges its claws into her chest. Heat explodes throughout her body to the point where she fears she might self-destruct. The boiling tendrils of this ethereal monster sink into her artificial heart and her Black Box. Something activates, or… unlocks, and suddenly she feels… confined. Her body… it’s too small….

“Time to pay the toll…”

It rips its claws, now writhing shadow-like whips, out of her chest, then vanishes. 2B’s vision is obscured, but not by warnings and error messages, by blood. Red veins pulse on the edges of her sight in time with her heart. Each beat sends waves of heat, electricity, and agony through her body.

“Stand, little doll. Stand, and unleash your beasthood.”

A scream forms in 2B’s throat, but it cannot break through her swelling throat and gritted teeth. She takes frantic, shallow breaths. Her limbs shake, her fingernails dig into the stonework floor. It’s so hot…

2B rolls onto the floor and rips away her tight uniform. Far too tight. Parts of her dress were already beginning to tear as her muscles swell. Blood trickles from various wounds where her skin has split, revealing the thick, synthetic muscle cords that lie beneath. Her blindfold is next, but removing it does not help her vision. One eye is unfocused, blurring all of her vision.

She drags her fingernails across her body and lets out a deep, animal snarl when she tears into her own flesh. Looking down at her hands, she recoils at the sight of long, black claws that split her fingers down the center. Skin falls from them in long strips to the point where the mechanical joints of her hands are exposed.

Something snaps inside her, somewhere in her upper back. She howls in agony, in sorrow, as her spine lengthens, twists, and grows too fast for her body to maintain. Her insides are compacted and grind against each other, sending sickening vibrations throughout her. Her throat finally opens up, allowing her to breathe. She watches as puffs of steam escape her mouth into the warm twilight air.

Another crack and something explodes out of her lower back. Her balance is thrown off and she falls forward, smashing her face into stone. Another snarl, this one combined with the gnashing of fangs. Her mouth warps, splitting out of her face into a muzzle. Eyes follow, one swelling to fit its now spacious socket while the other stunts and refuses to change. She claws at the peeling skin of whatever she can reach, spilling more of her blood in the process. Everything hurts, everything itches, but oh god the power feels so good.

A growth springs from above her unchanged eye, weighing her head down and hunching her body over. She supports herself with one enormous hand, the other scooping the wires and tubing that spills out of her torn stomach and forcing them back inside her abdominal cavity. The twisting extension of her spine, a tail, thuds against the floor and counters the weight of her head.

2B shakes the mane of bloodied, white hair from her functioning eye, turns her head to the sky, and roars.

#nier automata #2B #9S #2B9S #fanfiction #nier fanfiction #Tanks fics

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baronessblixen · 4 years

Text

The Three Lost Children

This is my entry for the @xfilesfanficexchange Horror Fanfic Exchange. My words were lost and abandoned. Set in season 6.

The reason I’m posting it here as well as on AO3 is because this is also today’s Fictober story! Tagging @today-in-fic and @xffictober

Fictober Day 24

New England in autumn is a sight to be seen. Mulder drives them through the vibrant, popping colors and Scully watches, almost like a child, in silent awe. She can’t wait to stop the car, walk through the rustling leaves, take in the fresh air. Listen to the breeze of the nearby ocean. She hasn’t been to the ocean in so long and her soul aches for it. She chances a glance at Mulder. They’re both quiet, lost in their own thoughts. She wouldn’t be able to guess what he’s thinking about. Lately, this is all they’ve been; a long stretch of silence, of unspoken pains.

The longer they drive, the lonelier it becomes. She doesn’t know why they’re here, not really. Something about apparitions, something about a cold case. As so often, she just followed him, barely asking for an explanation, still trusting him with their work. Even after Diana. They’ve been inching back towards normalcy. But in her mind, it’s ever present. Before Diana, after Diana.

Mulder sets the blinker and turns onto a small, nondescript gravel path. She glances at him but he doesn’t say anything. They follow the path and Scully watches as the trees grow rarer, most of them bald, barely alive. She shivers involuntarily as a house comes into view, growing bigger and bigger. Mulder slows the car and parks at it what must have been a gate once.

“We’re here,” he says unnecessarily, turning to her. They get out of the car and Mulder stretches, holding his nose into the air, half a smile on his face. Scully watches him, half amused and, despite herself, a little bit in love with him.

“Mulder,” she says, looking at the house in front of them, abandoned and broken, “why are we here?”

“This house is said to be haunted.” Whenever he talks about haunted places, his face lights up. An enthusiasm she’s never been able to share.

“You already took me to a haunted house on Christmas Eve, Mulder.” And they almost ended up dead. Or so she thinks. The memories of that night are still hazy and untrustworthy. “I can’t keep doing this,” she says to herself but he hears her, throwing her a look she can’t decipher. They’re the only living things around here. Not a single bird is singing. The trees are watching on, dead und unmoving. Something is not right. She stops and looks around. The cold feeling is back, taking hold of her. As if someone were softly scratching her with long fingernails, making her shiver all over. She takes a step forward but the sensation remains.

Her eyes are drawn to the house. She squints, tries to see it for what it must have been once. The bricks are laid bare, the house a mere skeleton. It seems to be standing up by pure will. Part of it has crumbled to the ground, a big hole gaping in between the main house and a smaller cottage. They must have been a unit once. Now, they’re standing on their own sides, not touching, decaying by themselves, still in sync.

“Let’s go inside.”

“Mulder, wait.” He stops and turns around. “Why are we here? How is this an X-Files?”

“Just follow me.” He keeps on walking, pushing open the creaky wooden door. Scully huffs. So much for her New Year’s resolutions. There’s something about this house that repels her. She’s not going to admit it to Mulder. She barely admits it to herself. But she feels it all around her in the cool air, the eerie silence. There’s a presence here. Something rotten and evil.

“Scully?” Mulder asks from inside, his voice sounding obscured. She takes a deep breath, the smell of decomposition in the air growing stronger the closer she gets to the ajar door. She steps inside the damp, old ruin and looks around.

Mulder is on the stairs and they creak in pain with every step he takes.

“You still haven’t told me,” she says, walking through what must have been a kitchen once. There are a few cups on the table, on the counters. One day, someone walked out here and never returned. She doesn’t dare to look into the cups. One is chipped, another one has faded colors. There was life here, once.

“Told you what?” Mulder yells from upstairs.

“What we’re doing here.” Scully leaves the kitchen and finds herself in the main hall. She stares at the big, dark wooden grandfather clock in the corner. Her heart starts pounding as she realizes that it’s showing the right time. The hands are moving, tick tock, tick tock. How is it possible that this clock is ticking? How is it possible that anything is alive in this house?

“Come up here, Scully. I want to show you something.” She gives the clock one last look but it goes on steadily. It feels as if it were watching her with stern eyes, judging her. As soon as she turns around, facing away from the clock, she hears it. At first it’s soft, barely discernible. A laugh. She keeps on walking and there it is again. More laughter. It sounds like… like… children’s laughter. She turns back, gasping. There’s only the clock, mocking her with its precision. She takes a breath, reminds herself that perception can play tricks on your mind. There might be children outside, playing games. That’s what she heard. It must be.

As she ascends the stairs, the wood moaning, she touches the walls where yellow lines speak of picture frames that must have hung here once. Who lived here? She wonders. What happened to them?

“There you are,” Mulder says upstairs, his head peeking out of a small room.

“You owe me an explanation.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He touches her arm and leads her into the room. Gloomy light falls through the broken windows, fracturing this room, a child’s bedroom. Scattered toys, old and dusty, some gnawed on. Sadness engulfs her as she stands there, cold to the bone. She hugs herself but it neither brings her comfort, nor warmth.

“What are we doing here?” she asks again, the anger in her rising.

“One day in 1879, a girl named Lucy Monroe disappeared. No one expected fowl play. An accident, everyone said. The parents were devastated, left their house and moved away. No one heard from them again. Things went back to normal and no one thought about poor Lucy or her parents. That is until the next two children disappeared, a pair of siblings.” Mulder picks up a toy car and blows off the dust.

“Is this- did Lucy Monroe live in this house?” Scully looks around and her eyes linger on the wallpaper with colorful balloons and clowns.

“She didn’t,” Mulder goes on. “When Lucy disappeared, this house belonged to one Richard Watkins. His neighbors described him as an inconspicuous, religious man. He, his wife and their three children went to church every Sunday but liked to keep to themselves. Until a fire claimed the life of his wife and children. That’s when everything changed.”

“What changed?” Scully asks. Damn Mulder for knowing how to tell a story. He’s walking around in circles, still holding the small toy car. He turns to her, his face solemn.

“Richard Watkins bundled all his pain and his hate against God. He stopped going to church, stopped leaving the house altogether. People in town started talking about him. It became a dare for children to find this house and catch a glimpse of this ungodly man. The gossip started, as it always does. They said Richard Watkins turned his back on God, like he’d done to him, and worshipped Satan instead.”

Scully wants to roll her eyes, or laugh. She can’t. Mulder’s voice is mesmerizing. As is the story he’s telling. She stares at the three small beds, barely touched. She freezes. One bed, an old moldy mattress still in place, has an indentation. It almost looks like a child’s body. Scully looks away, focuses on Mulder and nothing else.

“What does this have to do with the case, Mulder?”

“Don’t you feel it, Scully? This house… it’s haunted.”

She feels it. She feels it in the strange scratching sensation that’s intensifying. She feels it in the heaviness of her bones. This house has memories and it is aching from them. She feels that same ache, too.

“I don’t feel it,” she lies. “Maybe you should have brought Diana. All I feel is a draft. I’m leaving.” She is angry with Mulder and angry with herself. Why does she continue to let herself be lured out to these places, into myths and folklores? This is not her job. She could be at home, she could be doing something of consequence. But here she is, in yet another haunted house, chasing ghosts and chasing Mulder.

This has to stop.

“I haven’t told you the rest of the story,” Mulder calls out but she’s already back on the stairs. She doesn’t reply, refuses to listen. She’s not as proficient in running away as Mulder is but she can manage.

Still on the stairs, she hears the clock in the main hall. Is that her imagination or has the noise increased? Drawn by an unknown force, Scully returns to the hall. Her eyes fall on the clock, the wood darker than she remembers it. Among all these broken, forgotten things, the clock doesn’t fit in. It doesn’t fit at all. Her eyes are trained on the hands. Maybe none of it is real, maybe she’s just imagining it, fueled by Mulder’s story. But they keep moving steadily.

The clock strikes the full hour and there’s a drawn-out creak that sounds as if someone were opening a door, but slowly. She stares at it, the clock, unmoving but for the hands. Tick tock, tick tock. The creaking stops and then everything else does, too. Scully holds her breath for a second, then lets it out. It’s all in my head, she reminds herself. She relaxes. There’s nothing wrong with this clock. Nothing at all.

Just as she’s about to leave, the clock-face crumbles, falls apart, and reveals a new face, half man, half not. Blood-red eyes meet hers for the flash of a second. An evil grin with sharp teeth, horns protruding from the forehead. She’s seen this face before. In stories, in her nightmares. It’s the face of the devil. Unable to look away, her shaky fingers search for her gun. She stops when she hears the soft, gentle sound of laughter close to her.

Someone’s touching her. There’s pressure on her arm but as she looks down at it, there’s nothing there. Only laughter in the air. Happy, unabashed children’s laughter.

“We’ve been waiting for you,” a child’s voice singsongs. Scully makes a complete turn but she’s all alone. There’s only her and the big, dark clock that sits there unremarkably. The face, she notices, has gone back to normal.

“I’m losing my mind,” she murmurs, slowly walking backwards. She needs to get out of this room, out of this house. When her back comes into contact with something warm, something solid, she screams.

“Hey,” Mulder says, holding her by the arms. “It’s just me.”

“Did you hear it, Mulder?” she asks him.

“Hear what?”

“The children.”

“What children?”

“There was children’s laughter, there was-“ she stops. She sounds crazy. Mulder looks at her as if she’s lost her mind before he cracks a smile.

“So now you agree with me? This place is haunted.”

“Why did you bring me here?” she yells at him. All the anger and frustration she’s been feeling these last few weeks break out of her.

“I- the case, I-“ He’s stunned by her outburst. “I thought we could… I wanted to show you this house, tell you the story. I’ve been fascinated by it ever since I was a child myself.” His eyes grow soft and so does she.

“Tell me,” she says, feeling weak. “But not in here. I need fresh air.” They walk outside together, Mulder holding Scully’s hand. “I can’t believe I’m admitting this but this place is creepy, Mulder.”

He chuckles softly. “I know. Can I finish my story now?” Scully nods at him. “No one ever found out what happened to Lucy Monroe or the other two kids that disappeared. They were never found. But Richard Watkins was. The details are hazy but he slipped one night, fell down the cliffs and died. An act of God, it was later surmised. Because of what he’d been planning. They never found the kids but they found Lucy Monroe’s doll in his house, clothes that the kids had been wearing, too. They searched the whole place but no other traces could be found. It was said that Richard Watkins was planning to sacrifice the children to Satan the night he died.”

“The children,” she mumbles. She thinks of the laughter she’d heard and shivers. It can’t be. It just can’t be. There’s no such thing as haunted souls, a haunted house.

“You heard them.”

“I heard something,” she admits. “There might be children playing here somewhere that-“

“There are no children here, Scully. Listen. You heard the three lost children. That’s what folks around here call them. The three lost children. They’re said to be haunting this house. In early 1900, people tried to sell this house. Enough time had passed, they’d figured. No one has been able to stay here longer than a few weeks. The last recorded family that moved in were the Hendersons in the 50s. A newly married couple, just starting out. While Mr. Henderson never heard the children, his wife sure did. She thought she was going insane. They’d been trying for a baby and everyone, including her doctors and her husband, thought that unfulfilled wish was causing her audiovisual hallucinations.”

Is that why she heard them? Because of her own failure to conceive? She pushes the thought away.

“What happened to them?”

“They moved out. Their marriage was in shambles by the time they did. Mr. Henderson was so angry that this house, their dream house, was causing them so much misery that he destroyed half of it.” They both turn to look at the house, at the gaping middle.

“They separated?”

Mulder shakes his head. “They almost did. Their love for each other was strong though.” He stares at her, his eyes so green, so open, that she feels powerless. “They moved away. They worked on their marriage. They healed. Together. And then, not long after, Mrs. Henderson became pregnant. She gave birth to a healthy baby girl. The end.” He grins at her.

“How do you know all this, Mulder?”

“Because,” he says, taking her hand and leading her to the car. The more distance they bring between themselves and the house, the freer Scully feels. The tension leaves her body. “The Hendersons were our neighbors. That little baby girl? She grew up and used to babysit me. We came here when I was about 10 years old after I’d begged my parents. I haven’t been able to forget about this story ever since. Neither of us heard the three lost children though. But you did.”

“Mulder…”

“It’s okay. I know you don’t want to admit it. Most people don’t hear them. Only a few have reported the laughter and… feeling an evil presence in this house.” He touches her arm, strokes it gently. “Legend says only people who are pure of heart can hear the children.”

Scully snorts. “You had me until that last bit, Mulder.” He shrugs and smiles at her. “There is no case here, is there?”

“Oh, there is. But not here exactly. It’s further up north. I just wanted to take you here, share this with you. After… after everything.”

She bites her lip, but she can’t resist. “Have you ever taken Diana here?”

Mulder looks genuinely surprised. “No,” he says and she knows he’s telling the truth. “I never even thought about it.”

“Good,” she says and opens the car door. Mulder puts his hand over hers.

“I know it may take a while,” he says, his voice breaking. “But I want to win your trust back.”

“You never lost my trust,” she says. “And you and Diana… I know it’s none of my business and-“

“Of course it’s your business,” he cuts in. “It is your business. I want it to be. I thought I’d made that clear.”

“Clear, Mulder?” She raises an eyebrow. “When?”

“The hallway,” he says, his eyes fixed on hers. She blushes. “Taking you on all these adventures when we were off the X-Files. I mean it, Scully. I can’t do this alone. I don’t want to do it alone. I want you here by my side. If that’s what you want, too.”

She stares at the house, thinks about the Hendersons. He tore half of it down to repair something else, in a new place. Maybe they can too. She thinks of the laughter, of the three lost children, of the evil in this house. She doesn’t want to stay here in this place. She wants to move on, move past what’s holding her back.

Scully takes his hand and interlaces their fingers. They both stare at their hands as if they were a small wonder. Maybe they are.

“I want to be here, do this with you. I- I should probably tell you what I saw in there or what I thought I saw. Maybe there’s an X-Files here after all.”

“You don’t have to, X-Files or not.”

“I want to,” she says. “But not here. Let’s keep driving. Okay?”

He nods. “Just one thing before I lose my nerve again or before anything else happens.” He lowers his head, giving her ample time to move away. She won’t. She wants this. She’s been wanting it for so long. Their lips meet and everything around them stops mattering. It’s a soft kiss, a hesitant first. There’s still some rubble between them that they need to clean up.

There will be time to do that later.

“I’ve always wanted to make out at a haunted house,” Mulder admits when they disconnect. Her lipstick is smeared against his mouth, a bit on his cheek, too.

“Why am I not surprised?” she says with a smile.

“Let’s go. I think there’s something you wanted to tell me.”

#fictober2020 #exchange fic #i am proud of this #believe it or not #msr #xf fanfic #my writing #my fic

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puppys-rhythm-heaven · 3 years

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ds' remixes are so chaotic as far as graphical changes go, like-

remix 1: no consistency whatsoever. glee club's at like. a town or something. some of the tiles in built to scale glow on the beat (which is also used in built to scale 2). in fan club pop singer has a different hairstyle and the monkeys are pink and. yeah it's the most heavily changed game. and fillbots is. literally identical (apparently has different graphic files tho).

remix 2: the blue birds and captain blue bird aren't even blue. the shoot-'em-up guys are. coconuts. the moai kids have sunglasses? and the paddlers are 1. just on an island??? and 2. brown. that's it that's the remix. oh also in shoot-'em-up the moon has a space rabbit on it cuz the warioware reference quota has to be reached somehow. also the shoot-'em-up radio lady has an unused retexture and i just??? i'm too gay-

remix 3: or as i like to call it, the game's emo phase. the love lizards/güiro lizards are just in a purple area (with harsher lighting) as opposed to an orange one. the race in freeze frame's. a. boat. race? what- uh. the dazzles are wearing. shit what are those called- i don't think they're kimonos but i'm not sure. and idk what's going on in crop stomp tbh-

remix 4: despite being romance-themed, munchy monk and love lab literally don't fit this whatsoever; munchy monk's just. at a theme park/carnival/something. good for him i guess. and the love lab scientists are. at a park. i think. there's a fountain so- and drummer duel and dj school have p i n k and h e a r t s . oh also the djs have sunglasses for some reason. idk why but good for them i guess- also they're so fuckin' gay like dear god.

remix 5: again. no real consistent theme. the frogettes are just. on a different stage. and there's an audience. also their clothes are different (they put on shirts, good for them). dog ninja's at a stadium or something, how is this so exciting- u h the tiny ghosts have hats. for some reason. also the audience is different. and the synchrettes are boys. good for them-

remix 6: uh. green. the description says it has a spacey feel but idk what's spacey about rockers or karate man's retextures here- the space kickers have clappy trio wigs and also they're in. actual space. the background in karate man is v e r y dark blue and also karate joe has. hair. slash. a wig probably given space soccer. u h . the stepswitchers have glasses. for some reason. also the void is green instead. and rockers just has a different background. i think. their outfits might be slightly different idk-

remix 7: c l o u d s . fan club's in the sky and also pop singer looks adorable and has a pink guitar good for her, the dazzles is in the sky and they all have pink guitars good for them, dj school. there's clouds in the background and there's lots of blue (cuz that's this remix's color i guess)- u h . frog hop has clouds in the foreground. and brf is the exact same.

remix 8: only dog ninja actually looks different and i can't tell you what's happening there tbh. also for some reason rhythm rally and lockstep are specifically their sequels but blue birds is just. normal blue birds. hard to know for fillbots given that it's identical in fillbots 2 pretty much but like. who knows tbh-

remix 9: hoooo boy this one's a mess. moai doo-wop just uses its remix 2 textures, the chorus kids are seemingly in a spaceship, i don't know what's happening with space soccer, crop stomp's the same, the shoot-'em-up guys are. i got nothing. karate man is specifically karate man 2 for some reason, in splashdown the synchrettes are boys again and also the crowd they're performing for looks like the octopus guy from donk-donk, annnnd built to scale is just built to scale 2.

,,, yeah really don't know what they were on there-

#puppy rambles #rhythm hell #ds #remix 1 (ds)#remix 2 (ds)#remix 3 #remix 4 #remix 5 (ds)#remix 6 (ds)#remix 7 #remix 8 #remix 9 (ds)#its remixes are also the best tho-

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translations-by-aiimee · 3 years

Text

Dig a Grave to Dig Out a Ghost - Chapter 7

Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼

Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 7 - Police Station

His early morning class was basically just background noise. After trying to listen to the professor, all the sentences blurred together until there was only a buzzing sound.

Lin Yan propped himself up with his elbow on the table, his head nodding off again and again.

"These Ming Dynasty shirts were made of jade-coloured cloth and silk. They had wide-sleeves and circular collars, with black ribbons and seams hanging down.

Even prisoners wore this style of clothing."

The city was immersed in sleep at midnight, and there was no activity insight. Lin Yan drove his car from the residential area to the main road, and the night breeze came in, blowing the hair on his forehead.

A person appeared silently in the middle of the road.

Lin Yan gasped. Too close to swerve out of the way, he subconsciously slammed on the brakes, "Squeak--"

The huge inertia made him rush forward. He prayed that he didn't get into an accident. When he looked up again, he saw the front of the car stopped less than two metres away from the person, but the person stood perfectly still as though he hadn't seen the car. There is no intention of moving out of the way at all. Did this guy want to die? Lin Yan's hand grabbed his chest. He flashed the car lights twice to signal to the person to move aside. After seeing the person clearly, Lin Yan's mind turned to static.

The man’s feet were reversed, with heels facing forward and toes facing backward.

He slowly raised his head towards Lin Yan. His head was a skull covered with chunks of flesh with bone peeking through. His lips were more than half-rotten, two rows of slanted white teeth exposed. There was a stiff, crooked grin that pulled at the corners of his mouth, and dark laughter sounded in Lin Yan's ears. . .

Lin Yan's body trembled and he was thrown back awake.

"Skirts were slightly lighter in colour in the early Ming Dynasty; white skirts were promoted during the Chongzhen period. There were one or two inches of embroidery around the hem of the skirts. . .

"At the end of the Ming Dynasty, it developed into eight or ten inches. Pleated skirts were very popular, with fine and large folds..."

It was the middle of the day, these were human voices.

. . . Was that a nightmare?

Lin Yan recovered from his mini heart attack and tried to slow his breathing, but his heart couldn't stop beating.

Hesitantly, a cold hand touched his hair lightly. It stopped on the back of his neck as if it were soothing, but it disappeared in an instant. Lin Yan froze. The anger and constant anxiety of being violated at any time would make anyone paranoid. His anger came to a breaking point; ghost encounters at night, dreaming of ghosts during the day, would it ever stop? With a wave of his hand, he threw the textbook to the side, slapped the table, stood up, and shouted, "Fucking try it again! Come at me, I'm not afraid!"

The book fluttered across the table and chairs in the front row, and the papers in the book scattered like snow. Lin Yan stood in a daze, and it took a moment for him to snap out of it. Looking around, his confusion melted into overwhelming embarrassment. He saw the hundreds of students in the classroom turned back and stared at him. The teacher that taught his Ming Dynasty costume research class stood on the podium at the front of the room and looked at Lin Yan with disgust.

"Sit down. If you have any questions, you can talk to me after class. This teacher is old and can't keep up with your young people's games."

The rustling whisper in the class turned into a roar of laughter. Lin Yan blushed and shuffled all the way to the front to retrieve the textbook. He bowed to his teacher and returned back to his seat.

He was terrified that the ghost would try something else for most of the night. It had gotten harder to keep his eyes open just as dawn broke. It was hard staying awake during his morning class but he didn't expect his half-asleep daze to cause him this kind of embarrassment.

His face was still burning.

Just as he was thinking about it, his phone screen suddenly turned on, and a text message popped up. Yin Zhou sent: "Was everything alright last night?"

Lin Yan settled down and quickly sent a reply: "I'm still alive. I should be fine before July 15th." Fingers snapped and moved across the keyboard: "I found something new on a supernatural forum. Meet me at the entrance of the cafeteria at noon so we can talk."

On the first day of the month of Wushen, the fifteenth day of the seventh month, was the day of the Ghost Festival, and the gate of ghosts is wide open.

Lin Yan shrugged his shoulders and lay on the table, scribbling on the notebook while thinking. Unconsciously, he had covered a whole piece of paper with the rebirth curse. He hadn't done anything, so why is this ghost doing all of this? Lin Yan poked the paper bitterly with his pen, making small holes.

At the end of his two classes, when it was time for lunch, Lin Yan rushed to the cafeteria after packing up his things haphazardly. He went out and, when he turned to the left, he roughly bumped into another person. His nose slammed into their forehead and he almost cried out loud.

He should have checked his horoscope before going outside today.

Lin Yan held his nose and hissed and sucked in cold air. The other man stood silently. When Lin Yan opened his eyes and looked at the person he hit, he was surprised to see that he had run into a Daoist priest.

He was short and thin, his skin pale and he appeared weak. He was wearing some weird Tibetan blue homemade clothes. His shoulders were hunched under the weight of his backpack. This person seemed so dull that people couldn't help but yawn just glancing at him.

"Sorry, I was rushing to the cafeteria and didn't see you," Lin Yan apologized embarrassedly. The man didn't seem to be listening to him at all. His gaze was focused on something over Lin Yan's shoulder. He stared at it and suddenly grinned.

"Such powerful Yin energy. You need to be careful."

After speaking, he let out a soft "ah" as if he had just woken up from sleepwalking, and lightly floated past Lin Yan.

"Is that guy rambling delusions again?" The boy following Lin Yan poked his arm and said in disbelief.

Lin Yan shook his head and rushed down the stairs with his bag.

It was raining lightly, and the whole campus was wet. The students who were going to eat held umbrellas over their heads, looking like large colourful mushrooms from a distance. Lin Yan stepped onto a small paved road to avoid stepping in a puddle. Looking around, he saw Yin Zhou, who was looking around like a stupid bird at the entrance of the cafeteria. He looked terrible. He was holding a large red umbrella, four characters seemingly hanging on his forehead that was advertising his current mood: Stay away from me.

People who passed by couldn't help but glance over at him.

Lin Yan strode over the accumulating water under the steps in two quick strides, and patted Yin Zhou on the shoulder: "Why do you look as bad as I do?"

Yin Zhou was a little out of it, and took a long time to look at Lin Yan: "Second Immortal Gu is dead."

"My mother just called and asked us to the police station."

Lin Yan's face dropped.

When the police offer on duty led Lin Yan and Yin Zhou into the morgue and removed the white cloth that covered Second Immortal Gu’s face, Lin Yan took two steps backwards in shock. Yin Zhou couldn’t stop gagging. The face was extremely distorted. Her eyes were cracked open, the eyeballs almost bursting out of the eye sockets. Her mouth was wide open like a black hole, and her face looked like it was covered with nail scratches. It seemed that she had witnessed something extremely terrifying before she died. The most disgusting thing was that the skin all the way from her face to her neck was covered with deep holes. She had been eaten at by insects and ants. It is only by the contours of her face that they could barely recognize her as the grandmother who pretended to be a ghost in front of them yesterday.

Lin Yan covered his mouth and tried his best to suppress the urge to vomit. He waved his hand vigorously to let the police know to put down the white sheet.

"This is the person?"

Lin Yan nodded and took a few steps back unconsciously.

"She died last night. The bug bites are still under investigation." The policeman said casually, and glanced at Lin Yan's expressions disdainfully: "Are you two okay? We are all used to seeing dead people. It's better to think about where they're going."

Lin Yan and Yin Zhou, as the last two customers of Second Immortal Gu, were asked to stay at the police station to assist in the investigation. The interrogators took them to record their statements and fill out some forms. The police officer shuttled back and forth between the two interrogation rooms with the folders. As he walked, he muttered: "College students still believe this. I've heard so many crazy things over the years."

At 3 pm, the autopsy report from the hospital was sent to the police station. Second Immortal Gu died of a heart attack, which was a normal death. The blood contains a lot of catecholamines, the myocardial cells are damaged, mixed with erythema; it was a common way to die for patients with cardiovascular diseases. There were many insects in the countryside, and they gnawed away at the corpse overnight.

Lin Yan and Yin Zhou were taken out of the interrogation room, and each concluded the case by leaving their fingerprints for the file. The policeman on duty sent the two out. Seeing that the superior was not there, they shook their heads and muttered to Lin Yan: "The report said that they were strongly affected. To put it bluntly, they were scared to death. When I was a child, I heard the villagers say that these sorts of people never died a peaceful death, and dealing with ghosts and gods would damage their morality and sucks away at their life to the point that it kills them."

When they left the police station, the pattering rain was still falling, and there were few people on the street. Lin Yan's face turned blue and he couldn't stop shaking from head to toe. When he passed by the convenience store, he bought a pack of cigarettes and sat side by side with Yin Zhou on the road. The body of Second Immortal Gu lingered in front of his eyes. Lin Yan wiped the rain off his face, his lips shaking as he asked, "Do you think. . . that thing did it?"

Yin Zhou was silent. "He came again last night, he seemed very angry." Lin Yan buried his face in his hands. "We shouldn't have gone to see her yesterday."

"You saw how she looked just now. That thing isn't human."

As he raised his head and looked around, his voice suddenly rose: "just because no one can see it, it thinks it can just kill anyone it wants to? That's a human being; a living, breathing person. No matter what I do, you always fucking leave regardless of what I say. You're coming after me and yet you take revenge on others?!"

Insane, perverted, totally unreasonable. Lin Yan said mutely, "Ghosts were human once too. Did you even have a conscience when you were alive?! Why don't you come out? Brother, I’m waiting to die, it would be very kind of you to come here now. Why wait for July 15th? Let's end this!"

On all the roads of all the towns and villages, the faces behind every window have remained unknown to the general population. No one knew that in a village in the northwest corner of the city, a grandmother had been robbed of her life. She died inexplicably. To many, it was as unnoticeable as stepping on an ant. A ghost did it! Who would believe that? Lin Yan recalled his experience last night. He thought that that gentle kiss would at least show that the monster still had some trace of his conscience from when he was a human being. It even sympathized with his paranoia, but now? Second Immortal Gu couldn't see his existence at all, what did she do wrong? Lin Yan shouted desperately in his heart, what did I do wrong!

"The next one could be me, my parents, or you. . ." Lin Yan squeezed the cigarette out, a vicious expression in his eyes: "I wanted to make peace with it, but now I changed my mind."

"He can come and try to take my life. I'll kill him first; a life for a life!"

#dig a grave to dig out a ghost #dig a grave to dig out a ghost translation #chinese bl #chinese novel #english translation #yaoi novel

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