#if i made a mistake in my understanding of some of these concepts and whatever then the answer is that magic makes it work

[s0urw00lf]

Protectors: wolf’s bane

A Derek hale x reader story

Summary: y/n, Derek and stiles were tasked with finding out who it was that sent Allison the message that night in the school.

“Faster?” She asked checking her rearview mirror

"Much faster" Stiles replied looking out the back window at some hunter who was hot tailing them in Derek's car.

Y/n switched gears and pressed down a little bit more on the gas, "and he said id never step foot in the drivers seat" y/n muttered to herself.

"Y/n im not sure you're quite grasping the concept of a car chase" stiles said looking back.

"If she goes any faster it'll kill us" Scott said from the back, as y/n looked through her rearview mirror

"well if she doesn't they're gonna kill us" stiles argued back. He had a point so y/n pressed down harder on the gas's pedal.

Stiles kept looking back "hey they're gone" he said, making y/n check her mirrors again and she slowed down a little bit.

Stiles bought out a radio that y/n guessed belonged to his father. 'All units, suspect is in foot heading into the ironworks' the sheriff said. Y/n sighed speeding back up, quickly arriving at the location, stopping when she saw Derek crouching behind a machine. 'Get in' stiles said opening the door and hopping in the back. Someone from above them began firing shots at them and y/n was quick to pull off before he could even close the door.

"What part of laying low don't you understand?" Scott scolded from the backseat.

"Damnit i had him" Derek said ignoring Scott's comment.

"Who the alpha?" Stiles asked. "Yes! He was right in front of me but then the friggin police showed up" Derek said aggrieved.

"Woah, hey they're just doing their jobs" stiles was quick to defend and Derek practically glared him back into his seat

"yeah thanks to someone who decided to make me the most wanted fugitive in the entire state!" Derek said now glaring at Scott.

"Can we seriously get passed that? i made a dumb ass mistake, i get it but y/n didn't say anything" Scott whined.

"Hey i was in the middle of keeping you two plus the three additions alive while trying not to think about my boyfriend who was lying dead in the school parking lot. So excuse me for not being all that rational" y/n said defensively

"alright!" Stiles shouted from the back to shut everyone up.

"How did you find him?" Stiles asked.

Derek looked between Scott and stiles and shook his head brushing off the question. "Can you try to trust us for at least half a second?" Scott asked

"yeah both of us" stiles added, earning another glare from Derek.

"Come on der, share with the class" y/n muttered lowly, knowing everyone in the car heard.

"The last time i talked to my sister she was close to figuring something out, she found two things. First a guy named Harris-"

"our chemistry teacher?" Stiles asked interrupting Derek.

"Why him?" Scott questioned

"I don't know yet" Derek said

"and what's the second?" Scott asked.

"This symbol" Derek said as he pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and showed it to the two, as y/n had already known this bit of information.

Scott made a face that y/n caught through the mirror, "what? You know what that is?" She asked.

"I've seen it. On a necklace" He trailed off. Derek looked at him in confusion before Scott finished off his statement "Allison's necklace"

——————————-

" this is gonna be impossible you know" Scott says to y/n and stiles as they walk through the entrance of the school.

"Why don't you just ask her if you can borrow it?" Stiles asks.

"And how is he supposed to do that?" Y/n asked.

"Easy ' hey, Allison can I borrow your necklace? To see if there's anything on it or in it? That can lead me to an alpha werewolf that i need to kill in order to get back together with you'" Stiles says. Scott smacks his chest "dude you're not helping" he says.

Stiles points to y/n "why cant you just ask to borrow it? You know girl code or whatever." Stiles asks waiving his arms in his usual manner.

Y/n looked at him as if he'd grown two heads "you want me to ask to borrow an heirloom that currently lies in the hands of someone I'm not even sure likes me, keep in mind said family hates me the previous owner especially, and if by chance i was to be seen with said heirloom id be shot in the heart with an wolfsbane laced arrow? No thanks" y/n said shaking her head before walking off.

A little later y/n came across Scott being threatened by Jackson, she groaned quietly stomping her foot before she walked up and grabbed him by his shoulder "hiya Jackson, i seem to recall where you got this little... scratch from" she said, pulling down the neck of his jacket slightly to get a better view of it.

"You don't happen to want another one do ya?" She asked in a sickly sweet tone.

Jacksons face mirrored someone who'd seen a ghost as he shook his head no. "Oh no? Well id suggest you run along then hmm?" She said pushing him forward and he hurried away.

"So he knows huh?" She asked folding her arms leaning against the lockers.

"Yeah" Scott said, looking worried. "Well let's hope I'm not assigned to him" she muttered walking away.

———————

Y/n followed stiles to where Scott was sitting at the lunch table, separating only so she could sit across from them.

“did you get it?" Stiles asked as he sat down.

"Not exactly" Scott answered, shaking his head

"Well what happened?" Y/n questioned as she sat her backpack on the ground behind her and plucked her phone out of one of the pockets.

"She told me not to talk to her at all" he said defeated.

Stiles took a huge bite of his chicken tender "so she's not giving you the neck-"

"she's not giving me the necklace" scott confirmed.

Y/n placed her head in her hand. "Scott what the hell did you do" she said, lightly banging her head on the table feeling defeated.

“I showed her photos of us from when we were together.” He stated as if it was obvious.

Y/n’s eyes widened in shock and slowly lifted her head up to look at Scott. “You did what?!” She all but shouted.

Scott and stiles looked at her confused.

She dropped her head to her hands and dragged them through her hair. “Scott she already feels bad for breaking up with you. Showing her those photos was just about the dumbest thing you could’ve done. Not only for the necklace but for your relationship.” She explained.

Scott groaned, letting his head fall back. “Okay well did you find anything else out?” Stiles asked still chewing his food.

Scott sighed “just that i know nothing about girls and that they’re completely psychotic.” Scott said defeated

“That’s high school for ya” y/n muttered.

”okay, well i came up with with a plan b just in case anything like this happened” stiles said

”what’s plan b?

“just steal the stupid thing” stiles said

”that’s what i thought he was gonna do in the first place” y/n said as she checked her phone for any messages from Derek

“can we try to at least get to Harris?” Scott asked, seemingly wanting to weigh out his options.

stiles shook his head “my dad put him under a 24-hour protective detail okay the necklace is all we got, steal it. Thank you.” He replied

scott sighed in defeat meeting y/n’s eye from across the table as she began packing up her things “look it shouldn’t be that hard, you’re a werewolf for god-sake just steal the damn thing” she said, standing up and walking out of the lunchroom.

——[time skip]——

When the last bell of the day rang, y/n met up with stiles, whom she'd asked for a ride since 1. Derek wasn’t supposed to be anywhere on school grounds at the moment, and 2. She wanted to see Noah before he went off to the parent teacher conference, which she didn’t have the best feeling about.

Y/n walked in stiles room, immediately sensing Derek’s presence, she looked at him in irritation “what the hell de-“ but the sound of Noah calling out for stiles cuts her off

“hey stiles!”

“yo da-erek” stiles faltered.

Derek's eyes widened and guestered for stiles to deal with his dad who was just outside the door.

Y/n listened to the exchange between the two stillinakis completely forgetting her intentions for coming as she stared at her careless boyfriend.

"What'd you say?"

"What? I said yo... D-Dad'."

"Uh, listen, I've got something I've got to take care of, but I'm gonna be there tonight. I mean, your first game."

"Uh, listen, I've got something I've got to take care of, but I'm gonna be there tonight. I mean, your first game."

"I'm very happy for you. And I'm really proud of you."

"Oh, thanks. Me too. I'm happy and proud... Of myself."

"So they're really gonna let you play, right?"

Yeah, dad. I'm first line. Believe that?"

"I'm very proud."

"Oh, me too. Again, I'm- oh." Noah goes to hug Stiles. "Huggie... Huggie, huggie..." Stiles trailed off awkwardly patting his dads back

“Alright see you there,” Noah said pulling away from his son

”take it easy” Stiles responded

Noah nodded, walking away before pausing “y/n how about coming to say hello next time” he said, and then took his leave.

y/n sighed as her memory had been re jogged

Stiles entered the room again letting out a sigh of relief as he closed the door, only to be pinned to it by Derek, y/n was quick to put herself between the two “Hey, cool it alright” she warned putting some distance between them.

She could handle the jabs all day long but as soon as it began to get handsy she wasn’t going to tolerate it. Y/n decided it was okay for her to move now and settled down on Stiles's bed. Derek quickly looks from y/n to Stiles and points to him

“if you say one word-“ he began but was quickly off by Stiles

“oh, what, you mean like hey Dad Derek hales in my bedroom bring your gun?” He asked sarcastically.

Derek doesn't say anything at his remark, realizing just how ridiculous it sounded. Stiles took that as his cue to keep going “Yeah that’s right, if I'm harboring your fugitive ass that means it's my house, my rules buddy” he said back handing Derek’s shoulder.

Derek nodded in response and fixed Stiles’ jacket, and Stiles did the same to him with a goofy grin on his face and walked away but jumped when Derek fake lunged

“oh my god!”

y/n let a laugh slip through her lips at Derek’s antics.

“Scott didn’t get the necklace?” Derek asked

”no he’s still working on it, but there’s something else we can try” Stiles answered

Catching both y/n and Derek’s attention, as she hadn’t known any of what he was talking about, Derek made a ‘what’ gesture telling him to elaborate.

“The night we were trapped at the school, Scott sent a text to Allison asking her to meet him there,” Stiles said

”So?”

”So, Scott didn’t send it,” y/n said, slowly catching on to what Stiles was saying

”well can you find out who did?” Derek asked

“No not us, but I think I know of someone who can,” he said

—————

“you want me to do what?” Danny asked baffled

“Trace a text,” Stiles said casually ” I came here to do lab work-- that's what lab partners do.”

”And we will! ...Once you trace the text.”

“And what makes you think I know how?” Danny asked fidgeting slightly

“I had him look up your arrest report, so–“ y/n cut in

”I-I was thirteen. They dropped the charges.” Danny said defensively

“Whatever,” Stiles said pitching his voice up a few octaves

.“No, we're doing lab work.” Danny stated.

He then grabs a stool from somewhere near y/n and pulls it up beside Stiles, sitting down and looking at the computer.

Y/n watched Danny in amusement as he looked back to Derek who sat in a chair next to her, fake reading a book.

“Uh- who is he again?” He asked

“My cousin… Miguel” Stiles said, the laugh y/n almost let out would’ve had Derek death staring at her, so she decided against it

”he’s also my boyfriend, cute one isn’t he?” y/n asked teasingly

Danny nodded slightly “I guess,” he said feeling uncomfortable

Looking back at him y/n finally noticed the dried blood on his shirt, but before she Could cover it from Danny’s wandering eyes he spoke up

“is that blood on his shirt?” He asked

Stiles whipped around to see and Y/n winced, “Yeah, yes. Well, he gets this horrible nose bleeds” Stiles explained, y/n had never been prouder at how quick Stiles was to come up with a line than at that moment.

“Hey, Miguel?” Stiles said, turning to Derek. Derek lifted his head with a glare dead set on stiles. “I thought I told you you could borrow one of my shirts,” he said, gesturing to his dresser.

y/n watched in amusement as Derek slammed the book shut and began to take off his shirt, walk towards the dresser, and grumpily rummage through it for a shirt

”uh stiles”

“yes”

” This… no fit!” He said as he tugged at the shirt irritably

”then try something else on” Stiles stated obviously

y/n then got up and pulled a shirt out handing it to him with a small smile on her face, Derek squinted his eyes but pulled the shirt over his head

”Hey, this looks pretty good, what do you think Danny,” y/n asked turning to Danny who was not so discretely eyeing Derek

”Huh?”

”the shirt” Stiles confirms catching on to y/ns game

” It uh- it's not really his color” he answered timidly

“I agree,” y/n said inspecting the the shirt with a fake frown

Derek glared between Stiles and y/n before pulling off the shirt.

Y/n saw Stiles turn the computer to Danny

”you swing for a different team but you still play ball don’t ya Danny boy?”

”you’re horrible people”

”We know it keeps us awake at night, anyway about that text”

“Stiles! None of these fit!” Derek seethed frustrated

Stiles just looked from Derek to Danny with wide eyes

“I'll need the ISP, the phone number, and the exact time of the text,” Danny said making Stiles lean back and throw his arms up in a quiet celebration

Y/n paced stiles while she waited for Danny to retrieve the information they needed

“There. The text was sent from a computer. This one.” Danny said making y/n walk behind them and peer over their shoulders

“Registered to that account name?” Derek asked

“No, no, no, no. That can't be right.”

Y/n frowned in confusion at the name she read on the computer

‘Melissa McCall’

——

“Did you get the picture?” Scott asked, voice ringing through the car as Stiles had him on speakerphone

” Yeah, I did, and it looks just like the drawing.

“Hey, is there something on the back of it?” Derek asked after nearly yanking stiles arm so he could bring the phone closer to him

“I mean there's gotta be something-- an inscription, an opening, something…” y/n said from the back seat

“No, no, the thing's flat. And, no, it doesn't open. There's nothing in it, on it, around it, nothing. And where are you? You're supposed to be here. You're first line.” Scott said to Stiles, and just as his sentence finished y/n heard coach in the background

“Where the hell is Bilinski???”

“Man, you're not gonna play if you're not here to start…”

“I know. Look, if you see my dad, can you tell him... tell him I'll be there, I'll just be a little bit late, okay? All right, thanks.”

“You're not gonna make it,” Y/n said grimly. She knew how happy he was when he got first line, and how happy Noah was for him

“I know,” Stiles responded with the same emotion

“And you didn't tell him about his mom, either,” Derek said

“Not 'til we find out the truth.”

“By the way? One more thing…”

“Yeah?”

Derek grabbed the back of stiles neck and rammed his head into the steering wheel

“Oh, God! What the hell was–“

“You know that was for. Go. Go!” Derek said, rushing Stiles out of the car.

he then looked back at y/n who raised her brows, “you wouldn’t dare” she said in a challenging tone.

“Oh just you wait” he replied with a smirk. Y/n raised her brows challengingly, making her way out of the car but Derek grabbed her arm

”where are you going?” He asked

” With Stiles, god forbid but if the alpha is in there he’s gonna need some sort of help” she explained

Derek faltered, “Just, just be careful ok?” He said

y/n smiled lovingly “Always am,” she said before closing the door

———

the pair had been walking around the hospital for 10 minutes

”yeah I said I can't find her,” Stiles said

”look, ask for Jennifer, she’s my uncle's nurse” Derek replied over the phone

”well he’s not here either-“ stiles said, making y/n look into the room in confusion \

”shit, stiles we gotta go. Now!” Y/n shouted just as Derek had confirmed her suspicions of Peter being the alpha.

Y/n looked to the side only to come face to face with Peter Hale.

“Good to see you y/n,” he said before looking over to Stiles” and you must be Stiles”

Y/n grabbed Stiles’ arm and began rushing away only to be stopped by Jennifer, peters nurse

”what are you doing here, visiting hours are over,” she said menacingly

stiles began to look back and forth between Peter and Jennifer “You.. and him… you’re-you’re the one who- and oh my- and he’s— oh, my god, I'm gonna die.” He said

“You aged beautifully” y/n sarcastically muttered to Peter

Y/n pushed him aside, just as Derek came behind her and punched the nurse unconscious

” That’s not nice, she's my nurse,” Peter said fainting a sad tone

“She's a psychotic bitch helping you kill people, get out of the way”

”you think I killed Laura on purpose? One of my own family?”

This set Derek off as he jumped at his uncle, who threw him into a wall.

Y/n wasn’t far behind, she sent a swift kick to Peter's stomach, knocking him off his feet. He was quick to regroup and grabbed y/n by her arm, flipped her over, and knocked her into the wall, much like he did that night in the school.

He then went over and picked Derek, (who struggled against his grip) up by his neck and began to drag him “My mind, my personality, were burned out of me. I was being driven by pure instinct.” He said before he dropped him.

“So what, you want forgiveness?” Y/n groaned from behind him kicking his feet from under him just as Derek sent a punch to his face.

Peter was back on his feet in seconds, grabbing Derek by his collar“ I want understanding.” He said before headbutting him and landing a kick to his stomach, sending him rolling back

“Do you have any idea what it was like for me during those years? Slowly healing, cell by cell?” He asked turning to y/n who stood ready.

He sent a kick her way but y/n dodged it, catching his foot and knocking him off balance with hers, she then got on top of hem and sent punch after punch to his face, just as she went to throw another, he caught her fist and headbutted her kicking her into the office desk so hard that it knocked her unconscious.

——

When she woke up she was face to face with a worried stiles

“Oh thank god, I though I was gonna have to hit you” he said

Y/n groaned at her ponding head, she looked around and frowned when she didn’t see Derek or Peter

Stiles must have seen it on her face because he immediately answered the question in her head

“He left with Peter” he said

Y/n frowned as tears came to her eyes, she was in a woozy state of mind and felt upset about Derek leaving and the pounding headache she had.

Y/n’s number one problem was how emotional she was when she was in pain.

Stiles panicked, having never expected to see his sister in this state of mind. He grabbed her and bought her in for a hug, telling her that everything was okay.

“Why’d he leave?” She asked sniffling, after a couple of minutes of slowly coming back to her right mind.

Stiles sighed beside her, now his arm rested on her shoulder “I don’t know” he said, wondering the same thing

[angelicbeaut]

In order to change them, you must change YOU.

(Long post)

I have manifested many people back into my life: SPs , old friends, family member, people I wanted to be friends with but didn’t have the courage to ask to be friends. Literally anyone. But before I could invite them into my life, I had to go within.

When you’re manifesting someone, you must not only drop your old story but theirs as well. This was hard for me to understand at first because I had very strong negative emotions towards some people for what they did, and I chained them to those cinder blocks of mistakes and viewed them in that light forever.

I am one to hold a grudge, and sometimes they do some bs that makes them deserve it! You’re valid!

However, if you want a person back in your life under better circumstance you must remember several important things:

everything happens through you:

I am not blaming you for their behavior but what you must realize is that they have no choice but to continue to be the way that you ultimately view them. If you think your SP doesn’t want you, they will continue to not want you, because you are consumed in that thought and they only reflect you, you are god and they are your creation.

Process how they made you feel:

You’re never just going to let something go, sometimes people will hurt you, but in order to change the story surrounding them and how you view them you must process your feelings towards them. Write it down, talk to a close friend, whatever works for you.

You may come out of this not wanting them in your life and that is perfectly okay, you may decide you no longer want them and you want someone better and that’s okay! Manifest it baby!

Allow them to evolve and/or Allow yourself to have the version of them you want

If you want to access this new and improved version of them you must allow it to come in or it simply will not.

What I like to do is take myself out of the position of being the person who experienced them, and look at the raw emotions of it all, as God. I am not a religious person, however looking back on when I grew up Christian it definitely offered some interesting points that I believe helped in my journey.

If you are god and all your creation is made in your image, take a second to consider it you have ever done anything that may have caused hurt. Have you ever done anything that hurt someone? Have you ever related to feelings of jealousy or got really angry at someone? Most likely. Have you been forgiven and in turn changed to be better? There are many people who may still view you as the villain in their story but you have forgiven yourself and became anew, they could never put that on you now because of who you have evolved to become, right? Well, give this person a chance to evolve. You are the one writing the story, are you going to continue to make them the big bad wolf or are you going to let them be the knight in shining armor.

Now if this is about you not believing you deserve it, you need to start there. Why do you believe you are not worthy of your creation? Why do you believe you cannot have them or that they don’t want to be in your life? It may be that you don’t believe in love, or that you don’t believe you are worthy. Work on self concept and understand that you are everything and therefore everything is yours. From the trees to the moon, you are everything.

You can get a completely different version of them, you can completely revise an argument away, you could literally make them disappear. You can do anything! It’s your world.

Most importantly: LEAVE THE 3D ALONE

Sweetheart, if you are still maintaining the state that they hate you after saying affirmations for a day then immediately trying to text them, STOP. Start within, and the 3D has no choice but to follow. If you want to make up with them, go within, set the scene of making up with them in your head, say your affirmations, or whatever will give you the feeling that you seek. Once you reach that fulfillment within yourself, they have no choice but to reflect. Let them be who you want them to be, stop holding the old story over both of you, release it, and write a new story. Have faith in your story and have faith in you, and you will receive exactly what you want. Don’t worry about time, worry about you, time isn’t god, you are love.

P.S - don’t let anyone tell you that you shouldn’t manifest a better version of your ex or a person. You are god, why would you let anyone tell YOU what to do? Be fr.

Luv, che 🌺

[dalishious]

My Five Biggest Fears for Dragon Age: Dreadwolf

Dragon Age: Dreadwolf is highly anticipated by BioWare fans. At one point, I would consider myself to be excited for it too, however, unfortunately the long wait with zero information about the game has only wrecked my personal anticipation. Will my hype return once we actually start to get some regular news about the game? Most likely. But until that time comes, all I find myself doing is just… worrying.

These are the five biggest things I worry about.

5. Big, beautiful maps of nothing

In both Dragon Age: Inquisition and Mass Effect: Andromeda, most of the open world maps are very… empty. Instead of creating an adventurous feeling of excitement to explore, it just makes travelling those maps a tedious task. Games like The Elder Scrolls: Skyrim or the new Baldur’s Gate 3 have open maps too, but those developers actually made use of their space with level designs. Skyrim is full of caves, ruins, etc. content to stumble upon. So is BG3, as well as introducing new dynamics to a fight depending on which direction you approach the encounter from. These games prove an understanding of how to best equip an open world concept that BioWare has only executed in a few maps across both their most recent RPGs. I do not want to see Dragon Age: Dreadwolf be yet another case of luscious forests where developers spent far too much time making look visually beautiful, and not enough time actually filling with game content.

4. Shoddy attempts at retcon

For those of you who don’t know what “retcon” means, it is short for “retroactive continuity”, and refers to the phenomenon of fiction introducing new information that is inconsistent with past information. The purpose is to revise old material. Dragon Age: Inquisition had more than one attempts at retcon that were terribly executed. For example, the player is told not once, not twice, but three different times—as if repeating it enough will erase all the extensive lore up to that point saying otherwise—that the Dalish get rid of their mages if they have “too many”. This is despite the previous games and extended materials showing that the Dalish practically revere their mages.

Now, not all retcons are bad. For example, in Marvel Comics, the superhero Karma’s real name was recently retconned to be Xuân Cao Mạnh, a real Vietnamese name, after spending years and years with the made-up Vietnamese name, Xi'an Coy Man. This is an example of how retons can be used for a good purpose, like fixing a long-lasting mistake. But what exactly is the mistake in saying the Dalish are good people who don’t hate mages like most of Thedas? That was just a cheap, transparent excuse to villainize both elves and mages further.

Cheap, transparent excuses like that make me lose faith in BioWare’s writing. It concerns me with what other lore they view as needing “correcting” in order to reinforce their idea of Grey Morality™ where it doesn’t belong.

3. Imposter characters

One of the biggest grievances I had with Dragon Age: Inquisition, was how the Hawke written in that game was in no way the same Hawke I played in Dragon Age II. I understand that it would be impossible to capture the exact customized character, but the Hawke in DA:I was placed into the game with an anti-blood magic agenda, and wouldn’t shut up about it. This is hilarious, considering how many players chose to make their Hawke a blood mage personally!

With this in mind, I am terrified that my Inquisitor, who will very likely make an appearance in Dragon Age: Dreadwolf, will be used for whatever new agenda needs to be pushed. I better not hear a single anti-Dalish comment from my Lavellan, is all I’m saying.

2. Whitewashing ahoy

For all the talk about #diversity values, BioWare has a very extensive criminal record when it comes to whitewashing their own characters. Almost every single one of their most prominent visibly non-white characters have had their skin lightened or completely washed out, as well as ethnic features erased, at some point or another. This is why I cannot share any excitement or desire for existing characters to make a return; the fear that we’ll have to see Zevran next looking like Chris Hemsworth next haunts me too much.

But this particular fear runs even deeper than individual characters. Why? Because we know that Dragon Age: Dreadwolf will be taking place in northern Thedas, which up to this point has been consistently depicted as having largely non-white demographics. I’m not saying there are no white people in Tevinter, Antiva, etc., but I am saying that if I see the same mix of 80% pale tones and 20% “everyone else” we’ve gotten from the last three games, I will absolutely flip shit. White characters should be in the minority for a change. Otherwise, what is the point of shifting focus away from the dominantly white countries in the first place?

1. This will end of the Dragon Age franchise

Is this the most likely to happen of all fears? No; it is probably the least. But after the pathetic failure that was Anthem and the lacklustre response to Mass Effect: Andromeda, I would not be surprised if BioWare is on thin ice in EA’s eyes. (Which is ironic, considering the demands made by EA to chase after multiplayer fads and micro-transactions are what got BioWare into such a mess in the first place.) Electronic Arts is a garbage company run by garbage people. That much has been proven time and again. The executives behind BioWare itself aren’t clean, either. Unfortunately it will be average employee that suffers the most punishment and blame if the game does not meet the likely very high standards set out for it. In some ways, they are almost set up to fail.

It’s not fair, and there’s not we can really do about it, because the gaming industry is run by selfish idiots. It’s because of this that if events come to pass that the Dragon Age franchise was put “on hold indefinitely” so BioWare can work on clunking out an Anthem sequel, I would be very upset, but not very surprised.

-----

Times are really tough for me, and all my patron supporters are greatly appreciated! If you like my work, please consider becoming one yourself, and I'll be forever grateful!

[herrscherofinsanity]

Not the 'meet cute' I expected

Summary: Growing up you kept hearing stories about how romantic it was to meet your soulmate, you never expected yours to be the complete opposite of that.

Fluff

Kim Minjeong x reader

Soulmate AU

Word count: 1.4k

(I found this gif on google, credits to whoever it belongs to because it definitely isn't mine)

______________________

Soulmates. A very common concept in today’s society, yet something no one’s been able to explain. Whether it was in a platonic or a romantic way, everyone had that one person they were meant to find and keep in their lives forever, and you were no exception.

While there were multiple ways in which the universe could help you find your soulmate, the most common one was getting a single sentence written neatly across your wrist. The sentence was meant to be the first thing your soulmate would say to you when the first meeting took place.

Your soulmate’s first words to you could show up at any given time. There were those lucky enough to get said mark the moment they were born; others, considered late bloomers, got their marks once they reached the age of sixteen. It was almost unheard of not getting your mark once you hit that age.

You were one of those late bloomers, desperately waiting to finally find out what your soulmate would say once they made their way to you.

You kept hearing stories from your parents, your closest friends, and even some of your classmates. They all loved to go on and on about how perfect and romantic the whole encounter was. It only helped to fuel your excitement, it kept your expectations high, wondering how your soulmate would sweep you off your feet.

Your sixteenth birthday finally came around and you were beyond excited to find out what was going to mark the beginning of your forever. Mustering up the courage to read what was written on your wrist, you closed your eyes, took a deep breath and finally laid eyes on your new mark…

The only thing you could make out was your friend’s loud laugh echoing through your phone’s speaker as you tried to bury your face on a stray pillow.

“Thank you so much for your support, Jaime, I feel so much better” you said sarcastically.

Once she caught her breath your friend managed to reply “I’m sorry, but you can’t really blame me for laughing, your soulmate sounds like they’re really something else”.

You rolled your eyes. You had been staring blankly at the seven words written neatly across your left wrist for the past hour.

My friend over there thinks you’re hot.

You sighed for what felt like the umpteenth time that morning, you just couldn’t believe your luck. You waited sixteen years for that? Surely there must be some sort of mistake, there’s just no way that’s the first thing that’s going to go through your soulmate’s head when they see you for the first time. You tried to brace yourself for whatever bizarre situation you were going to be in if that was really the first thing your soulmate would say. Things can’t get any worse than this, right?

______________________

Minjeong had known what her soulmate would say the first time they met ever since she was twelve, and she had spent the next four years feeling perplexed, to say the least.

Written across her right wrist in bold letters were six words that kept her up at night:

Tell your friend I’m not interested.

Minjeong did not understand just why or in what kind of context her soulmate would say something like that. What bothered her even more was the fact that her friends were most definitely going to be involved. She groaned knowing very well her friends would make the whole thing even more embarrassing than it needed to be.

Minjeong sighed, she was kind of dreading the inevitable meeting…

______________________

It was a random Tuesday when it finally happened.

You woke up that morning feeling completely normal, nothing seemed to be out of place, there was nothing to give away the fact that you were going to run into your unromantic soulmate that day.

You did things as you normally would, the only thing that differed from your usual routine was the impromptu visit to a café not far from your school grounds.

One of your friends had suggested visiting a new café that had recently opened up near your high school. It had good reviews, and the prices were accessible enough so you didn’t really have any reason to not go.

When you walked into the cozy café the first thing you noticed was that two tables were already occupied. One of them was taken by an old man and a toddler, the other one was taken by four girls who seemed to be around the same age as you guys were.   

As you were making your way towards an empty table, you made eye contact with one of the girls sitting at the occupied table. The girl had long black hair, a small face and an intimidating look in her eyes, however, what caught your attention the most was the mole by her mouth. The intimidating looking girl was attractive, you couldn’t deny that, but she wasn’t really your type. You looked towards the girl sitting beside her, and when you locked eyes with her you felt a heat wave coursing through your body, it made you dizzy.

You quickly made your way to an empty seat and tried to calm your increasing heart rate. You felt like your whole body was on fire, especially your left wrist, you felt like the whole café was spinning.

“Is it just me or is this place way too hot? Don’t they have an AC?” you muttered to one of your friends.

She shook her head looking at you with concern in her eyes “I’m actually feeling a little chilly myself, the room feels perfectly normal”.

“I think I’m gonna be sick, I’m feeling a bit nauseous and my whole body feels like it’s on fire” you whined.

As your friend was about to reply, one of the girls from the other table approached you. She stood right beside you and being so close you noticed how tense she looked, yet that wasn’t what you focused on. The girl was beautiful, her short brunette hair complimented her soft facial features perfectly. She looked like an angel, and you would’ve spent forever staring at her if she hadn’t cleared her throat, purposefully shaking you out of your daydream.

The girl swallowed thickly before staring straight into your eyes and saying a combination of words you sure were not expecting to hear today.

“My friend over there thinks you’re hot”.

______________________

As soon as the words left her mouth, Minjeong noticed you tensing up, she heard a gasp coming from one of the other occupants of the table but her whole attention was set on you.

Minjeong had noticed you from the very moment you stepped foot in the café, she felt as if you were calling out to her. When you finally made eye contact Minjeong felt as if her whole world was on fire and she would go insane if she didn’t get close to you. However, to Minjeong’s dismay, she hadn’t been the only to notice you. Her best friend, Jimin, had also set her eyes on you when you walked in.

Jimin insisted that you were without a doubt her soulmate, and Minjeong felt the sudden need to punch her friend. How could she be talking about you like that? Minjeong didn’t like it one bit. As if the world was conspiring against her, Jimin kept pestering her with going up to you and being her wingwoman. Minjeong refused, but everyone knew Jimin was stubborn to a fault. Minjeong doesn’t know how, but she ended up going along with whatever it was that Jimin said and approached you.

“My friend over there thinks you’re hot” Minjeong said in a monotone voice.

You tensed up but quickly regained your composure and narrowed your eyes in her direction.

“Tell your friend I’m not interested”.

Minjeong gasped at your words, the unbearable heat she was feeling was quickly replaced by a sudden chill, yet her right wrist still felt like it was going to burst into flames any second now.

You carefully stared at the stranger before you, analyzing her reaction after you uttered your response. As if deciding something, you abruptly stood up and put out your hand so Minjeong could shake it.

“Hi, I’m y/n” you said with what Minjeong could only describe as the most beautiful smile she had ever seen.

“I’m Minjeong…” she said shyly as she tried to return your bright smile. You giggled at that, the girl standing before you was definitely adorable.

“It’s very nice to meet you, soulmate”.

______________________

A/N: Hi everyone! I wanted to keep this short, sweet and light hearted, I hope you guys enjoy it. If you have any requests or anything let me know, I'm always up for making new friends.

My next work will probably be longer than Meeting Yu again, I'll try to finish it this weekend or so, it will also feature our lovely Yu Jimin so I hope you're as excited for it as I am :)

[critter-genfic-events]

This week, we have ten fics that focus on dreams. Pleasant dreams, prophetic dreams, and quite a few nightmares - not to mention the Dream Spell - are mentioned here! Check them out under the cut!

Burden of Guilt by popsicletheduck (2714,Teen) Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Pairings:

Percy's made some mistakes in his life, alright? He knows this. It'd be nice if his subconscious stopped bringing it up.

Reccer says: Percy makes a great whump subject

Dreaming Down Deep by Angel Ascending (angel_in_ink) (4478,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings:

What if Caduceus met Fjord's patron and was just both mildly clueless and very polite about the whole thing?

Reccer says: Galaxy brain concept and wonderful delivery - Ukotoa's tricks just do not work on Caduceus, but Fjord's angst in the second chapter is delicious

and we still had hours by poppyseedheart (13995,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings:

In his own dreams, Caleb's back is usually ramrod straight the way it was in his youth. In his waking hours, his beggar’s hunch is practiced, intentional. Whatever he’s doing now, all neutral spine and open hands, is something different altogether.

Reccer says: Well characterized all around and amazing

she dreams of chromatic dragons by mavnificent (791,General) Warnings: Pairings:

Cali dreams of chromatic dragons and they aren’t always vicious or greedy the way they’re supposed to be. That’s how she knows she's dreaming.

Reccer says: There really should be more Calianna fics in the world, but this is a great one that takes into her Cult Deprogramming

A Nice Dream for Yasha by FeralScribe (4262,General) Warnings: Major Canonical Character Death Pairings: Mollymauk Tealeaf & Yasha

A dear friend makes sure that Yasha's dreams take her somewhere pleasant for once. The problem arises when Yasha doesn't want to leave.

Reccer says: I love Yasha and Molly's friendship and this is so painful

may your princes understand you (may your wolves get out alive) by grayintogreen (6427,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings:

An archfey traps Jester in a dream world. Artagan and an unlikely ally rescue her.

Reccer says: I liked it

However Long Forever's Gonna Last by elissastillstands (15557,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings:

Opal begins having dreams about Zerxus as she and the Crownkeepers continue their journey.

Reccer says: A beautiful story that fits perfectly into canon as a canon divergent fic. It makes you wish and hope for a better ending for Opal and Zerxus.

a god awful shitty feeling of dread in my heart by pigflight (2106,General) Warnings: None Pairings: Delilah Briarwood & Imogen Temult

In which holding hands with Laudna brings someone into Imogen's dream, even if it isn't the someone she was hoping for.

Reccer says: Imogen and Delilah and Imogen is able to go off? Yes please. A wonderfully threatening Delilah, too

What Grows From The Heart Is All The Stronger by Angel Ascending (angel_in_ink) (1340,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings: Fearne Calloway & Orym

All seeds need good soil in which to grow.

Reccer says: I liked it

The Heart External by BeatriceEagle (103670,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings: Beau & Caleb, Beau and Bren, Caleb and Bren, Beau and OMC, Caleb and OMC; background Beau/Yasha and Caleb/Essek

Six months ago, Beau adopted a teenager who loves the Cobalt Soul, but can't stand her. Ten minutes ago, Caleb accidentally summoned his own teenage self into his living room.

Reccer says: There's so much insight into and compassion towards all of the characters here. The ultimate resolutions for each of them feel hard-won and satisfying.

his is one of our weekly communally-generated gen rec lists. Every week we announce a new theme and allow anyone to submit a fic recommendation. Please note that the summary and content notes are provided by the reccer, and may be different than what the author has provided. Please assume good intentions all around. <3

And hey, anyone includes you!

We'll be back on the first with fics focusing on Orym, followed by horror fics, and then in October with fics focusing on Taryon Darrington.

Any fics coming to mind? Well, then use this form to submit! If you're looking for some more, check out some fics written in the critter genfic bingo tag, or the older rec lists! Or you can request your own card and join in on the fun!

[totally-not-here-for-the-smut]

So, @arcanavoid made me thinking about Lucio in their post

WELL THEN LETS TALK ABOUT LUCIO YOU BITCHES

Pleas keep in mind that I'm right now very drunk and I'm not a native speaker and the autocorrect for this phone can only do so much Also I'm in a different time zone so if you see this at, like 10 in the morning or whatever, no worries bc now is definitely night here and I also program my posts I have not a drinking problem thats why I cant hold my f-ing liquor

WELL THEN MY DEAR LUCIO and

WHY

as a person who is very close to people with serious mental illness, like i legit live with them

I THINK LUCIO'S ROUTE IS SO GREAT

Let's start with an assumption: we're all assholes. Somewhere in our life, maybe in the past, or present, or future, we are huge AH. It's not like we're evil and condemned to hell, it's just that as humans we're small, petty and miserable so we behave badly and are very selfish when big difficulties challenge us. Like, sometimes we manage to scramble enough willpower and common sense to act decently as we're afraid and suffering, but lots of times we don't and make shitty things. So here's my first point:

1. We all are a Lucio sometimes. Or often.

Like, way more than we want to admit. We're afraid, we're too full of ourselves, and we behave in petty ways. We're mean towards strangers, we feel happy in humiliating them and showing the world how better than anyone else we are. We need something bc we live in a world that doesn't grant basic human rights (food, shelter, health, safety and human connection), so we strain to get those things, sometimes at others' expenses. Then we tell ourself that those people deserved our scorn and malice because they're bad, and we tell us such lies because facing the guilt of what we've done is painful and complex.

We need to show ourselves we're better, so enjoy picking at others' mistakes without caring who they are in a whole (this is super easy on the internet). All this while low key ignoring what bad we're more or less responsible for.

And we are. Like, if you ever did buy something on sites like shein, you are actually exploiting poor people who are basically slaves. And you're keeping a blind eye on it.

But you know what? You're not evil for this. We're weak sometimes, we're tired, we have little time and really don't have the lucidity to think whether this stupid chicken breast is full of hormones and antibiotics or not. We're humans and we're small. Often we're sad, afraid and tired and we need a malicious self esteem bost.

Often, we're Lucio.

2. A flaming piece of trash can change. And doesn't need others' forgiveness to do so.

Did you notice how everyone is so eager to show of other people are wrong and bad and evil? That's because they, and we as well, need reassurance about how we're the hero of the story.

That's because we can't tolerate being the flaming piece of trash, because the the flaming piece of trash can't change and everyone hates them.

This idea is stupid.

It doesn't matter how low you fell. How many people you hurt, how many times you made the same stupid mistake or how many people deeply despise you. You still can change.

That's why is

So

Important

To have a Lucio route where it's shown he can choose to be better, no matter how deeply wrong his past deeds were.

The moment we understand this concept is the one our guilt becomes less heavy and we start being less judging of others. Granted.

This doesn't mean you're entitled to people's forgiveness - but the fact that YOU are willing to forgive yourself means that you can really change and forgive others. If some people won't forgive you, it will be fine, no need to hate them: you can always find new people to gift your better self to.

This is what happens to Lucio. Will Asra ever truly forgive him for making him and orphan and killing you? No. But this doesn't mean that Lucio will be a villain forever. He will be still able to change, become a good man and gift his goodness to the MC.

As MC says to Julian: you can always come back.

3. What it takes to change

Now, I'm in general rly humble when talking about mental health bc I'm no doctor nor therapist. But living with people who went through hell and managed to survive (and knowing people who sadly didn't), made me able to figure a couple of things. So, brace yourself. I'm about to give you the ultimate recipe of healing.

It takes two things:

Compassion and Accountability

When all is said and done, this things are the two main things it takes to change and heal. Compassion for believing you can change and deserve happiness, seeing the world through other people's eyes and accountability to motivate you into stop being a dick and owning the shit you did (so yeah, maybe you should stop blaming your parents for who you are, sry, but it doesn't serves your cause).

and there's one and only one way to get them:

Positive human connections.

That's it. When you go to the bone to it, that's how one can change, heal and survive.

It's reduced to the very bone, simple idea: the whole process is much more complicated and it's ok if you get lost in it. But at the very root, this is it.

And this is WHY Lucio's route it's so great:

MC shows compassion, because they don't recall him doing anything bad to them.

MC helps him being accountable. They doesn't shelter Lucio from his guilt, never.

MC believes in them but NEVER puts up with their shit

MC doesn't believe his lies and doesn't lie to them either. No games: they talk through everything, they're kind but firm and true.

MC helps him accept other people's scorn towards him

I love this route because it's the one where the MC is the most clever. There's a murder mistery? Let's ask the ghost of the murdered one who did it. Everyone is mad at him? Let them be. Not bc "he deserves it", but bc people are entitled to be mad at him and to their idea about him. He has troubles with his mother? Don't get between them. Listen, understand, let them unravel their shit. Ghosts are mad at him? Sit with him, but don't do his emotional weightlifting. Mc puts Lucio in front of his deeds and holds his hand as he deals with them.

Folks: THIS is how it's done irl.

4. No dumb justification & the danger of privilege

There are a lot of shows about "why villains are like this" that paint them as a poor misunderstood saint who was mistreated by their parents. Like in Once Upon a Time or the Disney Villain's Live actions. I hate that stuff because they distort the plot to make the villain a misunderstood anti heroe who was a victim all along, so he's justified.

Guess what: they're not. If you actions are evil there's no justification. No retelling of your story: you made very bad choice and were an AH and that's it.

This is what happens with Lucio: in his route his story doesn't gets to be retold. It's an honest story about how Lucio, the villain, can choose to be the better man and benefit from it. It's a story about the inherent dangers of Privilege:

Lucio's story shows how dangerous privilege can be: he wasn't hold accountable for his actions while he was alive, bc he was pretty, powerful and rich. He loses his privilege, he gets his ass kicked, he find motivations to change in his desire to be loved. I know irl folks who got to adulthood without having to face how shitty they were bc of social privilege. It literally kept them from changing, healing and be happy. So beware, folks. Your privilege might be harming you in the first place, and the day you will face who you truly are without it WILL come. The later, the worst.

So, this is why I love Lucio's route. It's relatable and helps us to find the courage to face our demons, knowing that we can change. Knowing that we can forgive ourselves and accept others' scorn. It WILL be hard, it WILL be painful, there WILL be consequences, but eventually it will be worth the hassle.

So, long live the goatman, for he can change. And so do we.

[windydrawallday]

Long-PSA-short of sorts that's more a vent: I was always aware my behavior and way of expressing myself online can surprise many people, especially if they are not used to someone who uses the writing medium as a playful form to tell emotions in a very descriptive way as I do. I'm quite affectionate with words, yes. And I always beg people I hang with personally to let me know if some of that bothers them, curtly of course. So far there have been few instances of individuals confusing those signals with ulterior means, things I assure you there's nothing more than me being friendly and supportive.

Imagine idk an excited dog seeing its owner haha

Until the past week, I found myself being tackled by something that made me almost knock everything aside because it made me realize that probably I'm a walking trigger/squick inducer with even the way I wield words like "love" and "friendship".

Almost...

I'm pretty tolerant of whatever way people conduct themselves in this life, the only moment I flinch is when an individual assumes from my default behavior and presentation that I want to impose my way of life... And nopes.

This is simply how and who I am. Nothing more, nothing less. I don't search for conflict but for understanding. My language for expressing marvel and reflections is like this, never to make the other feel awkward or attacked.

So, it upset me knowing that by wielding this forever welcoming and lovable disposition, I can be something to fear and even despite... to some people.

But, you know? That means that my "love" and "friendship" lifestyle are not made for you, no reason to come back to me and point at it. Just keep walking if you have only rage and rejection to give as a reply to my point of view. Because by wielding rage and rejection, what you only do is burn bridges. To create conflict and assume imaginary antagonistic scenarios where there's nothing of that at all.

You can't create the world you wish to live in by burning bridges.

It took me a lot too to forge who I am right now. I even keep learning and chiseling through traumas and mistakes—kindness and patience taught me more than rage and rejection. And "love" and "friendship" are the bricks I chose to build those bridges. I know everyone else uses different concepts but in the end, we all build bridges. By creating bridges and inviting others to do the same, I expand not only my world, but the other's too!

Isn't that better than demanding to be this or that through a black/white flag of rage and rejection? I think so. And I understand perfectly we sometimes need to be blunt when marking our boundaries. Still, never justifies treating the other bad.

And if some of you find "fake" or distasteful the way I wear this flag of "love" and "friendship" I'm sorry: this place will never be safe for you then. The exit door is always open. Go ahead.

I hope you find your place and flags out there too, but don't forget that to do that you need to build bridges. If you don't want to call it "friendship" call it "glue" or whatever makes you comfortable, but don't kick people like me who fought with claws and teeth to reclaim those words and feelings.

Fight your fight by being a good example, not a bad experience that makes someone never want to deal with something like this again in their life.

"Any color you like, (in the end) they're all blue."

[gabriellerudessa]

Thoughts about Mass Effect

So, I've just finished my run of the Legendary Edition. For context, I was 18 when ME3 launched, and I'll be 30 this year; the last time I had played the whole trilogy was WAY BEFORE the LE was launched lol.

So. All this time between gameplays and a lot of things in my life made me reflect a lot on the games and conflicts presented, the end and so on. Bear with me, this will be long.

Catalyst says that the root of the problem it has to solve is "organic versus synthetic"; this causes whiplash, because it is NOT something heavily shown in the games as "the root".

On the contrary, what is SHOWN is "control and order versus free will and self-determination": it's shown in the genophage - created because the Salarians COULDN'T control the Krogan -, in the Quarians versus Geth, the Collectors - so heavily indoctrinated they can't chose by themselves again -, Saren, The Illusive Man since ME2, the Reapers, and in ALL companions to some extent. Miranda, EDI and Jacob are the most glaring ones, but all of them bring this. Most of them in the oldest conflict regarding Created versus Creator to ever exist: Children versus Parents. Children test boundaries and once old enough, when they gain awareness and notice that Parents aren't as perfect as they thought, conflict arises. It can either end very badly, coldly, or they find new common ground.

And all this involves HEAVILY Control versus Free Will, some parents see children as extensions and something to control, others understand it's not like this. Most companions have this to some extent, usually from the children POV; Thane, I think, is the only one we see from the other side, a parent trying to reconect and fix his mistakes - Heck, even when we take away the Child vs Parent, we still have the concept Control vs Free Will, in that he was only a Weapon for the Hanar to control. (Edit: for some fucking reason I forgot Samara is a Mother and also her whole point is also about control vs free will. Go Brain 🤦🏻‍♀️)

But the Catalyst does not see any of this. It appears to disregard ALL other forms of conflict that can and have lead to annihilation of others - Javik himself says about how the Protheans would annihilate the species that don't conform and how there was this people that "found the secret for eternal peace" and then another came and decimated them. Conflict is a result of existence, usually because one wants to control others, but the Catalyst only sees "Organics versus Synthetics".

Why? I say the root for this is because The Catalyst was created by Leviathans, and as such, in their likeness of thought. And what we see about the Leviathans? The origin for indoctrination, focused on organics as far as we can see, in a more aggressive way - the miners had lost all awareness for ten years, the assistant lost all sense. The examples we see from Reaper Indoctrination are more insidious, if they aren't outright converting you on being a soldier for them; they make you think it's your choice, that they are right and so on. It's not outright stripping someone from all agency, not from the get go if it's not something that serves them. And, from what is implied, the Leviathans can't exercise the same control on synthetics, while the Reapers can.

The fact that the Leviathans can control others in such a way makes me think that, for whatever reason, they don't have conflicts between themselves. Maybe they are a hive mind or they have a queen-like controlling all of them, we don't have enough to say with certainty either, but the concept of conflict in itself is alien to them. It's very possible that they controlled all species that were under their thrall to not fight amongst themselves because, as they said, dead people don't pay tribute - I risk saying that when control was more spread amongst numerous individuals, there was more conscious thought going on in the controlled, or in the past it wasn't as heavy a hand as it's seen in the present. We don't have enough information for either. Again lol

Then the organics they controlled created AIs. And they couldn't control the AIs to not attack their organics. And, I would even risk, the root of their problem was probably because these organics also didn't have the tools to solve conflicts without controlling and stripping someone away of free will. They were controlled by the Leviathans, it was all they knew. But the AIs and synthetics created questioned, tested boundaries and so on.

As a consequence, the Leviathans assumed that the root of the problem was Synthetics versus Organics, and created an AI to solve this. And probably, considering that the Reapers can indoctrinate both organics and synthetics, they only wished or thought for the AI to control synthetics so they wouldn't attack organics. But the AI, at being in the likeness of the Leviathans, concluded that control was indeed necessary, that the conflict was inevitable; as a consequence, the solution it came with was to preserve the organics in Reaper form, being able to control both organics and synthetics, and guide civilizations in such way.

But since the Leviathans didn't have conflict amongst themselves, the AI Catalyst was biased. It didn't have examples of conflicts being solved by anything beyond control. That's why it was the only solution it could envision, because it assumed that Organics would always try to control Synthetics, and that Synthetics would always try to control Organics, and thus ending in annihilation. It couldn't envision cooperation of their own free will because the Leviathans couldn't envision so.

Which is fine. Being biased is understandable. It was created in the likeness of the Leviathans, the same the Geth were created in the likeness of the Quarians - eco-symbiothic, resulting in an AI that gains processing the more they are - and EDI in the likeness of humans. Heck, when we consider that in one of EDI conversations in ME3 she says that self-preservation is not her biggest directive anymore, but the people inside the Normandy, that she is not like the Reapers, we can compare to the Leviathan, that only created the AI because they needed tribute: it was about self-preservation, their OWN preservation was paramount, as it is shown in the fact that they have been hiding for who knows how long.

And the root of the problem of the talk with the Catalyst is that we can't say anything of the type to it. We can't say that conflict is natural and expected and that organics go through it ALL THE TIME between themselves but that it does not equal to annihilation. That compromise and common ground is possible and that children go through this all the time with their parents. That Control and stripping someone of Free-Will and Self-Determination is not the answer, because it usually only creates even more conflict, doesn't matter if between Organics and Synthetics, between Organics, between Synthetics, because at some point someone will fight against it. But cooperation is possible, and it is usually better (heck Javik says that this cycle is working because all species cooperate amongst themselves)

The whiplash and so many disliking the end, I risk, is more because we can't point any of this to the Catalyst. It's understandable its bias, even expected. It's frustrating that Shepard, a soldier that very much understands about how conflict is inevitable and how you solve it is what matters, can't say so, at least so the Catalyst would recognize "I'm not perfect. I was wrong."

Because even when we go along the lines of "this is Catalyst experiment to try and find the solution", I say that not all the data in the galaxy will help against deep-ingrained bias to interpret the data in this or that way. And that is what the Catalyst is: biased in a way of thinking where conflict in itself is unacceptable and a flaw, but is only being seen in one way because their creators couldn't see and experiment in other ways. But conflict is common and a part of existence, and it can be solved in ways where it reaches compromise, where it acknowledges free will, something constantly shown in the games. Just the Catalyst doesn't see it.

[pinovapie]

DRDT Warrior Cat Au

So i used to be obsessed with Warrior Cats as a kid and uh. I still really like the concept so... Here's my Warriors Despair Time AU! Forgive me if everything is really rambly,,, ft. Redesigns of the cat designs i made before- also, feel free to ask questions, talking about it will probably help me expand it.

Words: (just in case you don't know warriors, if there's anymore i missed lmk-)

Kittypet -> House cat, a pet belonging to a human

Twoleg -> Humans

Nest -> Bed or Home (a Twoleg Nest is a house)

Den -> House (Warriors den is where warriors sleep etc.

Medicine Cat -> Healer, Clan doctor. They can also (usually) communicate with the dead as well as receive visions and omens.

Medicine Cat Den -> Infirmary /Hospital for cats

Starclan -> Where the dead cats go. Heaven for cats ig?? Starclan cats are covered in stars c:

Twoleg Place -> A collection of houses, street, town, city, etc.

Thunderpath -> Road

Monsters -> Cars, Vans, Trucks, etc.

Mono TV -> Monostar

The ' leader' of the newly formed 'Despairclan'. Really they're the deputy for the true leader. No one knows why the leader stays hidden but they do. They're kind of incompetent but they do a decent enough job (despite their love of violence...). The clan is a mismatch of random strays and kittypets/house cats.

Eden Tobasia -> Thymeleap

A very friendly Kittypet that joined the clan by mistake after getting lost. She keeps trying to persuade her clanmates to come back to her twoleg nest so they can find proper, warm, safe homes for everyone. So far it hasn't really worked but in the meantime she'll do whatever jobs are required to help everyone. She has convinced Butterflylake, Orchidgleam and Lilypetal to occasionally wander near twoleg place to look for her home. They haven't found anything yet but her friends (and Lilypetal i guess?) are always happy to try and help her home.

Arturo Giles -> Lilypetal

A medicine cat. He's not the best medicine cat in terms of personality and ability to speak with starclan, but he knows a decent amount about herbs and healing. He's not a fan of healing and prefers to use non essential flowers to cover wound dressings so he doesn't have to look at cats' 'disgusting mangled fur' whilst they're in the medicine cat den. He's also a fan of decorating his own fur to look prettier. In this AU he's obsessed with Kittypets and their 'pampered' lifestyles.

Veronika Grebenshchova -> Veronika /Centipedeslaughter

A Kittypet that's obsessed with clan life. She constantly tries to help the clan by bringing them more prey or fighting rouges and loners. She's regarded as an honorary clan member by Monostar and usually spends more time in camp then at her twolegs' house. She usually decides to sleepover with Lilypetal or Horsejump (who do not like her one bit-). She often recounts the horror films her twolegs' watch as some kind of spooky story to scare her clanmates. She chose the warrior name Centipedeslaughter herself.

Ace Markey -> Horsejump

He used to be a farm cat named Horse. He got abandoned because he kept getting scared of the mice rather than catching them. He was given the suffix 'jump' after joining the clan due to his skittish nature. Despite being terrified of them, he can speak to and understand horses (like how Millie could talk to dogs in canon warriors). Rather than having an ED due to jockeying, in this AU he doesn't like eating 'raw meat' (he's used to cat food-) so he tries to avoid eating it as much as possible.

Teruko Tawaki -> Stumblespark

A very clumsy and unlucky cat. She stumbled into the clan by mistake and decided it's safer than wandering stray. Stumblespark seems to suffer misfortune after misfortune. Lilypetal is not fond of the near permanent medicine den patient. Thymeleap, Xander and Rosecurl all to their best to help her feel welcome. Veronika often pesters her for her 'dramatic scar stories'. Due to her luck she's been hit my monsters and survived multiple times.

Charles Cuevas -> Charles -> Viperfang

He used to be a kittypet until a tragic event left him wandering alone. He became a medicine cat due to being de-clawed (he doesn't remember why). However, he only handles small cuts and non bloody ailments due to dislike of blood (he closes his eyes when eating -).

Whit Young -> Whit -> Heartwing

Was a kittypet living near Charles. Originally, they didn't get along but after Viperfang's trama was brought up by a certain event, they bonded due to Whit helping. He used to pester and annoy Viperfang by just showing up on the territory and following him around. After the event however, he joined the clan officially to help his friend. He's taken on the role of a part time mediator (not a canon thing in the books as far as i'm aware but shush-). He usually just listens to cats vent rather than giving advice but it usually helps a lot.

Rose Lacroix -> Rosecurl

The lead medicine cat. She's an expert at creating the right mixes to cure things. Her perfect memory also allows her to know exactly which herbs to use and where to find them.

Hu Jing -> Hu Jing ->Butterflylake

An elegant kittypet that was mistaken for a stray and released miles from home. To respect clan traditions she picked a name similar to the translation of her kittypet name. She's taken on a deputy-like role in the clan by organising patrols and sharing prey evenly between clanmates. She often tries to comfort and care for new arrivals and quiet members of the clan. However, her lack of patience and experience when dealing with stray cats often causes her to see things with a black and white mindset. Enjoys hunting to provide for the clan and often goes with Eden as a hunting partner.

Nico Hakobyan -> Quiettuft

A cat that was abandoned by a breeder after being left for months, after all their littermates were bought. When they first came to the clan they were quiet and kept to themselves. For some reason, Horsejump hates them. Is he just a bully? Did they know each other before the clan? Who knows. Quiettuft is annoyed by them constantly picking fights with them. However, for some reason, even though they've noticed Horsejump's dislike of 'raw meat' they haven't told anyone.

Xander Matthews -> Xander

He was the leader of a gang of rouges before being dragged into the clan. Before he joined the clan he was part of a colony of cats. However, he was caught by twolegs due to disease running rampent. He was the only one they managed to save. He still feels guilty about it. He had a truce with Pebbleroll when they were both rogues. When joining the clan he immediately respected Hopeeye due to a past incident. Hopeeye distracted a pack of dogs by being super friendly then darting away once the confusion wore off. This action saved Xander as well as a couple of fellow rouges. Even after joining the clan he insists on keeping the name Xander.

David Chiem -> Hopeeye

He used to be the leader of an old clan. He was a loved an respected leader, always inspiring and supporting his clanmates. Until one day a giant flood hit at the same time as a whitecough (lethal disease) outbreak. He tried to stay positive and reassure his clanmates that they could make it out! Many cats passed away, believing in Hopeeye's reassurance. After 2/3 of the clan were wiped out, he retired and left the clan, feeling like a liar and a poor leader for letting them down. After meeting Xander properly, however, he's regained a little bit of spirit.

Levi Fontana -> Orchidgleam

A very large fluffy stray, was orignally from a 'bad' clan but left for unknown reasons. was one of the ones to find Horsejump on patrol. Up until a bad argument (and even afterwards-) he saw Horsejump as a cat that needs protecting. As a result he tends to follow him around (even if Horsejump is not happy about it-). Before the argument, Horsejump would pick fights with clanmates and then immediately run and hide under Orchidgleam's belly. Unfortunately, that argument seems to have stopped that from happening and Orchidgleam feels a little guilty that he's no longer considered a safe space. In other news, he's a big fan of decorating his fur with plants and tends to annoy Lilypetal by tagging along to find flowers.

Min Jeung -> Minnowfur

A cat that prefers sticking to the warrior code. Learned a decent amount of herbs after learning who the clan med cats are. She doesn't get along with Xander due to his tendency to break the code, often for his own morals that she doesn't quite understand.

Arei Nageshi -> Pebbleroll

After being tormented by her siblings, she left her previous clan and became a feared and respected cat among rouges. Eventually, after opening up to Hopeeye and defending Thymeleap during and argument with Lilypetal, she joined the clan with the goal of making genuine friends.

J Moreno -> Jasmine -> Jayshadow

A kittypet of a celebrity that hated the attention and her owner. So she ran away. She hates her kittypet name since it's 'too girly' and instead chose the name Jayshadow because it's 'cool' and 'badass'. Lilypetal constantly bothers her about her previous life which she hates. One of Xander's rouges bit part of her tail off. On one hand she thinks it makes her look badass, on the other she's pissed at Xander for being obnoxious and reckless. She rolls in plants to make her fur so scruffy she can't be recognised by her owner. Ryan is the replacement cat her owner got, she even called him Jasmine as well.

Obviously, once the killings happen the deceased go to Starclan. From my memory canon Starclan is a mess so y'know- i would include the Dark Forest (cat hell-) but i don't think we know enough about why characters are the way they are to say they definitely deserve cat hell y'know?

[wouldntyou-liketoknow]

There Are Some Cons to Being an Archeologist. . .

(Disclaimer: two of the characters in this story belong to me. You can find more information about Penn and LeviathanPat here. Illinois belongs to the Markiplier Cinematic Universe.)

The amazing artist @insane4fandoms has drawn my fanegos multiple times now. I wrote this to show my gratitude. (GO FOLLOW THEM AND REBLOG THEIR STUFF OR ELSE YOU FORFEIT YOUR KNEECAPS.)

(Trigger Warnings: descriptions of dark and slightly claustrophobic areas, descriptions of being chased/pursued/stalked, blood, panic/fear, body horror, teeth, eyes, strong language, eating/drinking. Please let me know if I missed anything.) 

(If you’d like to use distorted fonts like the one you’ll be seeing in this story, then I recommend going here).

Tap-tap-tap

The sun was still sinking, still casting beautiful streaks of pink, purple, and orange across the clouds, but it wouldn’t be long. 

The rock spire’s shadow grew wider and longer with each passing minute.

Outside, the entrance to the cavern yawned open just ten or so feet away. 

Penn couldn’t believe he’d thought it was dark earlier. 

The shade further inside was bright compared to the monster. 

The monster almost didn’t even briefly blend in with that darkness as he paced by the cave’s mouth for the hundredth time now.

Whatever excuse the monster had for skin wasn’t just pitch-black. Oh sure, it glistened like tar one second, then sprouted veins that throbbed like a diseased organ would against blood-clots the next, and then appeared raw like leathery scales or a rough carapace the next, and, and, and. . .

But that was just it. 

The grotesque way it kept shifting and stretching—the constant changes were only ripples against the pitch blackness it was made of. 

It wasn’t like mere shadows or clouds of smoke or puddles of ink. 

The monster was a moving, breathing, sentient void.

He was nothing.

He was a nothing that was somehow bigger than anything because it kept all sorts of horrible things trapped inside it. 

Tap-tap-tap

Throughout his career, Pennsylvania James had come across several opportunities to invoke a phrase that managed to be so simple and so acidic at the same time: “I told you so.”

To his credit, he’d only taken said opportunities once or twice. Most of them had come up via honest mistakes not worth starting a fight over. 

In this scenario, however, that infamous quip would absolutely be justified. 

The red jeep he was currently sitting in belonged to none other than Illinois Jenkins. It’d also belonged to several other parties before aforementioned treasure-hunter had purchased it. 

In a way, that kind of made sense. If you made your living looking for relics, then why not drive something that could probably classify as a relic itself? 

Penn understood that the market for cars was a complete and total trash-fire, as well as how the concept of sentimental value worked in mysterious ways. Really, he did!

But no amount of understanding would make this thing work when he and Illinois really needed it to work.  

Tap-tap-tap

Like a few minutes ago, for instance, when the engine had only offered a weird sputtering noise after Illinois had twisted his key around in the ignition a few dozen times in the span of half a microsecond.

. . .At least, the more logical parts of Penn’s brain were sure that only a few minutes had passed. The less logical parts insisted that it’d been a good couple hours since he and Illinois had bolted out of the cave’s entrance and into the jeep for shelter. 

Oh, yes. There was no way in neither heaven nor hell that Penn could be blamed for telling Illinois that he’d told him so about this damn jeep. 

But he couldn’t do that right now.

Tap-tap-tap

Right now, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to speak again for the next day or two. 

Right now, the only sounds in the air were heavy, raspy panting courtesy of himself and his friend.

He felt his heart bashing against his sternum over and over and over; each beat was legitimately painful. His pulse thundered in his ears as the blood rushed throughout his head. Though, if he listened closely enough, he was sure he could hear Illinois’ own heart on the brink of explosion in his chest. 

Tap-tap-tap

. . .As well as that godforesaken tapping. 

The sound was so light, so quick, so obviously produced by the jeep’s windows. 

And yet Penn’s instincts swore up and down that his skull was being struck for that little rhythm.

It seemed Illinois was under the same illusion, if the way he ground his jaw was anything to go by.

The monster sidled up to the jeep again, placing one hand (or paw, or clutch of talons, or tentacle, or what-the-hell-ever) on the hood while another appendage stretched to rest somewhere on the roof. 

More arms spilled out from his heaving sides, being planted against the ground as he steadied himself and leaned forward, craning his neck toward the windshield. 

His eyes. . .God, somehow they were the very worst part of him. They glowed with a sickly light; not at all like the sun or the moon or even the stars. No, they looked like someone had taken a flickering ember from the bottom of a firepit, and then wrapped strips of pale, decaying flesh around it. 

Penn tried to lean even further back against the leather seat. His spine could feel the monster’s malevolent gaze, and it wanted to crawl out of his skin and find a better hiding place. But it couldn’t, due to both Penn’s attempts to keep it where it belonged as well as the fact that no living thing could ever hide from those eyes no matter what it did.  

Penn watched as a dark, slick, shaking claw reached around the side of the windshield, being pushed toward the passenger window.

Tap-tap-tap

___

Nomad’s Nook. 

That was what the glowing, candy-red sign on this building’s roof spelled out to greet passersby. It sort of made the hotel a centerpiece, as this town was made specifically for drifters and the like, full of tidy little convenience stores and gas stations. 

Desert areas had their charms, but they hardly ever felt like the right place to make a home. Unless, of course, you were a fennec fox, or a gila monster, or a rattlesnake. But even then, you could only survive in an environment like this if you had a shady place to rest. 

Such as a tunnel boring through the base of one of those towering rock spires that had formed an odd million years ago. 

A tunnel that just might lead to an underground cave. . .or maybe two. . .or three. . .

Then again, places like that could also be on your radar if you just so happened to be named after one of the fifty States. 

“So, care to wager?”

“Hmm?” Penn raised an eyebrow, still working on a bite of the takeout ravioli his companion had slaved over a hot cellphone for. By the time they’d parked the jeep outside and trudged into the lobby downstairs, it’d been about two hours since sunset; any meal was long overdue. “On what?”

Illinois, who sat on another bed across the room from the one Penn had claimed, looked up from his own supper (grilled chicken margherita) with a smug grin, dark brown eyes glinting under the rim of his Akubra hat.

“Chuck’s Hole,” he clarified. “Up until now, we’ve only been guesstimating. We still can’t be sure just how far its depths really go. It could have all kinds of things in store for us. . .” 

Penn doubled over as the need to take a deep breath collided with the mouthful of food he’d just barely swallowed. 

“Thanks—a lot,” he hacked, trying to give Illinois a death-glare. Due to the giggles that leaked out, though, this effort wasn’t very successful. 

Illinois tried to shrug it off, all cool and casual, only to wrench his eyes shut as he too fell victim to a violent bout of snickers.

This wasn’t the cavern’s official title. . .not yet, at least, but it had a good chance of sticking. A title like that was too stupid and too funny to forget any time soon. 

The idea stemmed from another one of Penn and Illinois’ projects. The former had discovered a documentary relating to the very specimens he’d been after, and the latter had agreed to watch it with him. 

Well, at some point, the narrator (who absolutely deserved a raise, what with the intensity and drama of his voice) had been describing the body structure of some carnivorous theropod. Particularly its skull and jaws.

The instant subtitles, in their notorious janky nature, had interpreted the quote, “—designed for ripping its prey apart and swallowing chunks whole—” as “—designed for ripping its pray a part and swallowing Chuck’s hole.”

Chuck’s hole.

Chuck’s.

Hole.

. . .Damn.

It was a wonder Penn hadn’t caved in the spacebar on his laptop’s keyboard when he’d paused the video, rendering those words temporarily frozen in brackets at the bottom-left corner of the screen. His free hand had curled into a fist, which he repeatedly slammed against the desk like it owed him money, cackling like a deranged gremlin all the while. 

Illinois had slumped in his chair, raising his hands to knead at his forehead, becoming so wracked with belly-laughs that he ended up choking on a combination of air and his own spit. And after the two of them had calmed down enough to speak coherently again, he’d vowed to one day name a new subterranean area he found in honor of this beautiful moment of idiocy. 

Despite how he insisted on “working best alone,” it wasn’t uncommon for Illinois to call up Penn and invite him to join the odd adventure. Likewise, though he was typically a bit more hesitant, it wasn’t uncommon for Penn to take those invitations. (The team he usually worked with needed breaks, after all.) 

This current project was more of a coincidence. No-one had explored it yet, and rumors about it had reached both of them around the same time. 

Penn leaned back against the too-firm pillows, subconsciously catching his fair skin, chocolate-colored hair and matching eyes in the blank screen of the television at the front of the room. “There were only so many burrowing dinosaurs back then. And caves usually only have trace fossils in their walls, but that depends on the environment. In a place like this. . .” 

He paused, drumming his fingers on the thin blanket whose corners had been tucked under the mattress tighter than a pageant star’s girdle. “. . .There’s a good chance of finding nocturnal remains. Y’know, bats and the like.”

“Sure, but that can’t just be it,” Illinois replied. “C’mon, think a little bigger!” 

Penn tilted his head to the side, reaching over to pluck his deep red neckerchief from the nightstand. He began weaving it about his fingers as he thought. “I guess I can’t rule out the possibility of hyenas, wolves, or bears. Maybe even the odd hominin or two, but I’d have to be really lucky for that.” 

“Well, it’s a good thing you’ve got me,” Illinois declared, smirking as he took off his hat to smooth back the raven hair that almost tickled his shoulders.  

Penn rolled his eyes, half fond and half exasperated. “Right, right. The guy who gets chased by boulders every time he steps outside is just the pinnacle of luck.”

Illinois scoffed. “Oh, please. The boulders are small potatoes compared to animal-rooted curses. Have you ever seen a beaver with green smoke pouring out of its eyes? Awful stuff, man. Awful. Stuff.”

The adventurer paused, shuddering as a distant, unreadable look manifested in his eyes. “Last time I bumped into one, I spent a week with the feeling of splinters all over my tongue. Don’t even get me started on how orange my teeth turned!” 

“. . .I’m not sure why you’d put orange teeth in a worse spot on the tier list than invisible splinters in your mouth,” Penn deadpanned. 

“You weren’t there to see it! My dentist wouldn’t stop trying to convince me that I’d either been eating Play Doh or doing all sorts of drugs!” Illinois argued, shaking his head, eyebrows arched so severely they could’ve left dents in the ceiling. “And that was just what I got from a scratch. The stupid overgrown-water-hamster hadn’t even bitten me.” 

With all the trivia he gathered on instinct, Penn knew that somewhere out in the world, there existed an obituary that could easily be summarized as Death By Beaver. And, assuming the guilty rodent in question was a normal, non-cursed one, an event like that being reality was already weird enough. 

“It could’ve been worse,” Penn mused. “Imagine getting attacked by a cursed koala. If that’s not a bad omen from the universe, then I don’t know what is.” 

Illinois grimaced, no doubt recalling the time he’d unwillingly learned that koalas A. could somehow throw temper-tantrums that rivaled those of crocodiles, and B. carried strands of chlamydia around like those stupid designer purses. “Fair point, though I doubt any curse would give a koala more braincells to work with.” 

Penn snorted. “Exactly.”

On one hand, Penn could be a bit of a skeptic. Not always, since you couldn’t put strange, vast skeletons together without being imaginative. But as a young boy, he’d lost count of all the times he’d been laughed at for collecting rocks simply because they were shinier or more colorful than average.

On the other hand, one of his and Illinois’ earlier co-op trips had seen them stopping by a Walmart for supplies and then getting chased out ten minutes later by a rogue boulder that had apparently manifested somewhere in the candy aisle because why the hell not? 

Certain parts of his mind hadn’t known peace since then, but other parts were now more open than they were before. So, Penn supposed that could count as a balance. 

Illinois paused, eyes to widening and twinkling. “Oh! And speaking of omens, hang on a second—”

He placed his to-go box to the side before reaching over to the bedpost. There hung a satchel, the same one he claimed to have inherited from his mother and always took on his escapades. He rummaged through it, eliciting a chorus of sounds that suggested it was packed with many, many more things than it should’ve been capable of holding. 

After an awkwardly long moment, the silence was broken by a short cry of victory. Illinois got to his feet, crossing the room and extending his arm to show off the package that was now taking up space in one hand.  “I got something for you. Fresh from the other side of the world.” 

Penn felt his lips quirk as he carefully took said package. It was a bundle of brown paper, complete with a long string of twine that had been tied into a bow at the top. Whatever was inside could only be about as long as his hand, but it had a definite heft to it. 

Penn placed it on his lap as he fished through his pockets, bringing out a small folding knife to cut the cords. The paper yielded quite easily, shuffling and crackling and spreading like the petals of a dried-out flower as he unfolded it. 

There, in the middle of those layers, sat the gift. 

It was cold against his palms. It felt a little rough too, despite the paint (which was the grayish-purplish color of a bruise) that covered it. Hardened clay, Penn guessed. 

It resembled an animalistic head, though Penn wasn’t sure what animal the artist had taken inspiration from. An oblong shape like the snout of a dog, or maybe a lizard; if he was honest, it seemed like someone had tried to sculpt a velociraptor’s skull strictly from memory. Whatever the case, its snout split open into a leering maw full of sharp, crooked teeth. And just above those teeth. . .eyes. 

Eight eyes, to be specific, organized in a line of four on either side of the face. They’d each been painted an unpleasant shade of yellow, each adorned by a wide, black pupil. Penn squinted, realizing that those pupils were holes. Just hollow pits boring further inside the head. 

There were two more holes in the bottom half, right under the thing’s lower jaw. A small spire jutted out from the base, adorned by a tiny rectangular chasm. Like the mouthpiece you could expect to find on any wind-instrument.

“. . .An ocarina?” Penn finally asked, glancing back at Illinois. 

Illinois tutted, shaking his head. "Penn, buddy, c'mon. After all the crazy shit you've seen me handle, you really think I'd give you just any old ocarina?"

“I mean, that's sort of what this looks like. Big emphasis on the ‘sort of,’ though, I'll give you that," Penn quipped, a hesitant laugh following his words. It felt like the thing’s eyes were watching him. They couldn’t be, though. They were hollow, they were made of clay. This thing was not alive. 

Penn didn’t like how he had to remind himself of that. 

“It’s a Chimera Pipe,” Illinois continued with a ghostly edge to his voice. “Whenever you play it, the music is supposed to ward off evil spirits. What do you think?”

“Interesting. Pretty damn interesting.” Despite the cold, clammy feeling creeping around his stomach, Penn couldn’t help but smile. “Y’know, I was gonna say I’ve never seen anything like this, but it reminds of that little doll you got a few years ago.”

“‘Little doll,’” Illinois echoed, incredulous. “I think you mean my Warden.” 

“Right, sorry.” Penn raised a teasing eyebrow in return, then glanced back down at the Chimera Pipe. “Really, though, doesn’t this thing give off the same vibe as that?”

“It’d better give off the same vibe; it was made by the same person.” Illinois reached into one of his breast pockets to produce the object in question. “I honestly can’t believe I managed to bump into them again. I mean, of course they’d recognize me, of all people—”

Illinois’ shoulders popped up in a cocky little shrug as his free hand hovered over his heart. Penn clicked his tongue at that. 

As Illinois held the Warden up, allowing it to catch the light, a lump manifested in Penn’s throat. His companion had a point: doll wasn’t the most accurate term for it. It had been carved from wood, yes, but that was where the similarities ended. 

Small, oily black feathers and strands of hair (actual human hair, mind you) had been wrapped around its torso in a tight bundle. Six jagged, spidery twig-arms jutted out from said bundle, bent in ways that suggested the totem was both trying to free itself and claw at anything that got near it.

Its head almost resembled the skull of a tiny monkey. . .almost. About ten eyes had been painted all over it. Or, Penn assumed eyes had been painted there. It was hard to tell, what with the plethora of steel nails that had been driven into it from every which way. A decent chunk had been carved from it, leaving the entire lower half to serve as a gaping, disfigured mouth filled with needle-teeth.

Thick strings had been twisted around its torso, coming to a knot around its neck, which in turn spilled out into a wide loop. Apparently the maker had explained that its protective powers would be most efficient when it was worn as a necklace, but it would still work nicely when hung from a bedpost, or a rack on the wall. . .or a doorknob. 

(Illinois went for the last option, since he couldn’t resist using that to make jokes about not needing to put a tie or sock on the knob anymore.)

Penn rested his fingertips over the pipe's eye-holes and his thumbs over the jaw-holes. He pushed the mouthpiece toward his face, only to flich back, wrinkling his nose. “Oh—oh, geez.”

“What the matter?” Illinois asked, tilting his head and taking a few steps closer. 

“Nothing, it just. . .smells funny. Strong,” Penn answered. He’d already expected a distinct, earthy scent from the clay. And while it was there, it was overpowered by something else. Something that had a bite to it, like vinegar or cigarettes.

Illinois scratched at the hair growing along his jaw. “That must be the paint. I was told all sorts of spices and herbs had to be mixed into it for it to work. Kind of like the stuff people use to cure animal hides, y’know?” 

Penn hummed, offering a shrug. He could see the logic of that. 

Illinois then gestured to the pipe, silently prompting him to resume. 

Penn nodded, raising the pipe back up until the mouthpiece was less than an inch from his lips. Then, he took a deep breath, held it in his chest for a second, and blew it out.

The ensuing noise was. . .unique. 

It was a mixture of guttural and keening, shifting through a good few notes as Penn tapped his fingers against the eye-holes, trying to find a rhythm. It certainly didn’t sound like any music he’d heard before, but it wasn’t a person’s voice or an animal’s cry. So, music was the only thing it could really be called.

After a moment, he decided to stop playing and pulled the pipe away from his face. Illinois gave a brief, soft applause. 

“I can’t see any evil spirits in here. Can you?” Illinois asked, making a show of glancing around the hotel room. 

Penn shook his head, turning the pipe over in his hands. “No, I don’t think so.” 

“Great! It must be working, then. . .well, unless the Warden is just doing all the heavy-lifting.” Illinois grinned, spinning the creepy little doll-thing between his fingers.

“WOW.” Penn raised an eyebrow, grinning right back as he placed a hand on his hip. “Are you putting my playing skills to shame?”

Illinois squinted and pursed his lips, holding one hand flat in the air and turning it to and fro in that classic Maybe-Kinda-Sorta gesture.

Penn scoffed as he set the Chimera Pipe on the nightstand next to his own hat (another, older gift from Illinois), still tracing its eye-holes with his fingers. “. . .Thanks for thinking of me, Illi. This’ll really stand out in my collection.”

Illinois nodded as he strode back to his own bed and flopped onto the mattress. “No problem, Penn.”

___

Spelunking definitely wasn’t a hobby for everyone.

There was a reason storytellers often used “Rocks fall, everyone dies” as a catchall conclusion in a pinch. Even in the safer scenarios, caves were still cold, dark, enclosed. 

When stalagmites and stalactites alike (try saying that five times fast) protruded from the floors and ceilings, it wouldn’t take a paranoid imagination to see how those things resembled rows of irregular, snarling fangs.

That, in turn, led to the cave looking like the maw of a beast, which would obviously make the tunnels comparable to said beast’s throat. All in all, the correlation between caverns and monsters wasn’t that much of a joke.

But archeology buffs weren’t everyone. 

Penn and Illinois trekked side-by-side, led only by the glow of flashlights, their footsteps reverberating as they descended further and further into the behemoth’s belly. The sunlight trickling in through the craggy entrance of Chuck’s Hole had faded away with the distance.

Most cave systems consisted of one long, uneven tunnel that simply wound deeper and deeper into the earth until inevitably hitting a dead end. (A literal and figurative rock bottom, if you would.) Sometimes there could be thinner passages as well, branching off the main one and offering a much shorter path to a much smaller chamber.

It reminded Penn of the ant farm he’d cared for back when his undertakings had been limited to the neighborhood playground.

Chuck’s Hole was no different.  

Penn paused, lowering his flashlight as he leaned against the wall.

A hollow phantom pain crawled up and down his left leg. As though the ache was leaking through the huge, jagged bitemark that marred the skin of his thigh. It’d healed and scarred over quite a while ago—and the limp Penn now walked with wasn’t too noticeable—but that didn’t stop it from stinging like hell at times. 

It took a few seconds before Illinois glanced over his shoulder and stopped as well. He opened his mouth, only to immediately shut it with a little snap. He chewed his lip, making a clear effort to not stare at Penn’s leg as though he could see the scar through his pants. The guilt that trickled into his dark eyes, however, he hadn’t moved fast enough to hide.

Penn shook his head and rolled his shoulders. “I’m fine, I’m fine. We can keep going.” He took a bottle from one of the compartments in his canvas rucksack, lifting it up and taking a few gulps. The icy water felt good. “You said you had a feeling there’d be more for us to see, right?” 

Illinois nodded, smiling once more. “Right.” 

With that, the duo continued on, soon discovering a fork in the main tunnel just a few feet ahead. That was where Illinois suddenly halted yet again, leaning around the curve of the craggy wall to peek at the secondary pathway. He let out a low whistle, then disappeared around the corner. 

The hidden scar burned as Penn quickened his pace, but that was easily pushed aside once he entered this new chamber. 

“Say ‘Cheese!’” Illinois called before a bright flash illuminated everything within five feet of him. Penn flinched, squawking as one hand flew up just a millisecond too late to shield his face. 

Illinois guffawed. “Ah, that’ll be a good one for the corkboards!” 

After a second or two of scrubbing at his eyes, Penn shook his head and sighed, offering a disappointed glare that could make dads all over the world green with envy. “I should’ve known you were gonna pull something like that.”

“Yes, you should’ve,” Illinois agreed, smirking as he turned away to take some more pictures, this time of the things they were actually down here to study.

Though he tried hard not to, Penn ended up snickering to himself. “Did you at least get my good side?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Illinois answered with a shrug as he slipped his camera back into his satchel. 

The lower-half of the chamber could be compared to an ammonite shell: it twisted in on itself and offered three ledges, each one trailing off into the next and going slightly deeper.

As Penn approached his companion, he noticed how the sides of each ledge were different from the main tunnel. They resembled the work of a tattoo artist who was, to the great misfortune of his paying canvas, whacked out on three different cocktails that had been served with more than just salt on the rims of the glasses.

At first his heart jumped, assuming he and Illinois had stumbled upon a few dozen crinoids. That spark died a quick death as he looked closer, though his interest was still piqued. Every inch of the rock in here was scored, covered in twisting lines and shapes that couldn’t be naturally-formed layers or cracks. They’d been carved with crude instruments, and quite hastily at that. 

“What do you make of these?” Penn asked, squinting and having to keep turning his head. All of the carvings seemed to work together to create a larger picture, but it was so hard to fit them all in his eyes at once. 

Illinois pursed his lips, a mixture of curiosity and adrenaline flickering on his face. “They’re not like a lot of the hieroglyphics I’ve seen. I think can make out a few similarities, but not enough to actually translate anything. I’ll have to check my journals for a comparison later.”

He’d already strolled to the third ledge, which trailed off around a pit in the bottom. “I was just about to ask if you had any ideas about this.”

As Penn followed and looked down, he felt his eyes widen to the size of dinner plates. 

It looked like a circle had been hollowed out of the rock, about as wide as both his and Illinois’ wingspans lined up together, and then filled with. . .something. 

Whatever it was, it must have been viscous before it was left to harden God-knows-how-many-years-ago. A few hundred filaments and frozen bubbles gleamed from under the surface against the bright artificial glow of his flashlight.

There was no way to truly tell, but the hole must have been pretty damn deep, as the substance was flat as a window.

Illinois knelt down and reached over to carefully tap at the edge of the petrified mass, eliciting a dull tik-tik. He then dragged his nail across it, tilting his head as he saw how no scratch mark was left behind. “Amber, maybe?”

Penn shook his head. “I think agate would be a closer option. Like sardonyx or Mexican Fire.” He paced around the pit, keeping his torch’s beam trained on it. “I’ve seen plenty of amber samples come in different colors, but none of them had any patterns like this.” 

Sure enough, an assortment of long, winding shapes could be seen further within the substance. They were a dark shade of gray, reminding Penn of tree branches, or roots. . .or veins. 

Except they were all bent and contorted, tangling rather than smoothly flowing together. As though the bottom of the pit had been some kind of burial mound, and a bunch of pale, malnourished limbs with WAY too many joints for comfort had been writhing through the soil just as this stuff was poured in. 

Illinois hummed as he stood back up and wandered closer, now following Penn’s gaze. “Sort of reminds me of horn coral. Y’know, like charlevoix?” 

Penn offered a shrug. “I guess so. Or something along the lines of opalized septarian? I mean, that’s the closest thing I can think of in terms of the pattern, but the colors seem completely off.” 

It never failed to fascinate him just how pretty rocks could be, depending on how and where they formed. 

The mass in the pit was not an example. Not by a long-shot. 

As he kept examining, Penn saw shades of white and red and orangish-brown. While he’d seen those types of colors mix very well together in other things, the mixture here just looked. . .wrong. 

In fact, the longer he stared at it, the more its colors appeared almost fleshy. 

And, following that comparison, the gray of those vein-like bands were like fungal threads growing on a carcass. 

Penn grimaced at the thought. He then slid his rucksack down one arm and onto the craggy floor. He got to his knees and fished around inside it, now holding his flashlight between his teeth as he produced a hammer and chisel. They shone in the dim light, having been cleaned and sharpened for what was probably the thousandth time not too long ago. 

He leaned over the petrified mass, pressing the chisel’s flat edge flush against it and lining up the hammer’s face. 

He started with a few cautious taps. The substance didn’t feel like concrete, of course, but it still seemed just as firm. 

Penn tightened his grip, then wound back and gave a much stronger strike. The chisel’s blade dug in a couple inches deeper.

Penn kept at it, readjusting his tools every few seconds as he carved a piece, feeling an odd type of comfort as the percussion reverberated through the bones of his fingers and wrists. 

A smile flickered on his face as a palm-fitting chunk finally broke off from the rest of the mass. As he laid his instruments off to the side and took aforementioned chunk into his hands, however, that smile died a slow death. 

The substance was dry. You could tell just by looking that it was very, very dry. 

True, the inside of this cavern was much cooler than the outside, but it was still smack-dab in the middle of a desert. True, Penn and Illinois were underground right now, but they still had yet to find any water deposits in here. 

And yet it. . .it felt moist and sticky against his skin.

It slipped out of Penn’s grasp, giving a very anticlimactic thunk as it fell to the ground. There was no residue, no filmy strings, no evidence of any sort of liquid on his fingers. 

Confused, Penn reached down and picked it back up. That same, sickly-wet feeling came with it, once again not leaving a single hint that the sample was anything other than dry as a bone. 

Although, if he really thought about it, that term only applied to old bones. 

A freshly-removed bone, on the other hand, would be quite slick with blood. . .

As he side-eyed the rest of the mass, a sharp, ugly sensation manifested inside him. Like he’d swallowed a spool of jagged, oily wire that was now unraveling in his stomach. He felt his free hand curl into a fist at his side. He didn’t want to look at the mass anymore, but he just couldn’t seem to turn his head away. 

The colors. . .those awful, fleshy-looking colors. . .were they vibrating?

No. 

No, no, nononono, they couldn’t be. 

They couldn’t be, and they weren’t. 

Penn made sure of that via grinding his jaw and blinking furiously. 

H i t  i t  a g a i n , whispered something he couldn’t hear.

It almost felt like one of his thoughts. But it wasn't. Whatever it was, it had NEVER been in his head before and therefore had no right to be in there now. 

That sensation was now in his skull, fluttering along his temples like the beginning flares of a migraine. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. Goosebumps sprouted along his arms. Something in his brain screamed at him to hold his breath, and he listened to it without even thinking. 

Still looking at the mass, still clutching the sample he’d taken. . .still feeling what his instincts now recognized as the impatient stare of an apex predator. 

From out of nowhere, weight came down on his shoulder. At the same time, his hat was titled upward to make way for something rough and uneven that was suddenly being pressed against his forehead. 

Penn startled, a small scream tearing its way up his throat only to die halfway through his mouth as Illinois appeared before him.

“Whoa, hey! Take it easy!” Illinois almost recoiled in turn, but held steady. 

“What are you doing?!” Penn squawked, trying to edge away. 

“I’m trying to help you!” Illinois barked. One hand remained on Penn’s shoulder while the other refused to leave any room for Jesus between Penn’s brow and a small, blurry object. 

In a flash, Penn was back on his feet, reeling away until his shoulder collided with one of the walls. Illinois approached, hovering before his companion, holding the Warden in empty air.

The two of them engaged in a very uncomfortable staring contest for about ten seconds. Even with all its little nail-stab-wound-eyes, the Warden was really the only winner.  

“You’re not okay,” Illinois announced. His eyes made it clear that he knew it would’ve been pointless to ask otherwise. “You felt strange while taking that sample, didn’t you? Your head was hurting, right?”

Penn offered a shaky nod before trying to ask, “How did—why were you—?” 

Illinois let out a deep breath, nodding back. “This thing was made to be a guard dog. But that doesn’t mean it can’t help with the more, ah, internalized bad juju.” He raised the Warden for emphasis. “I kinda felt it, too. Sudden pain isn’t too uncommon in shrines like this.” 

“Yeah, well, your experiences aren’t universal,” Penn snarked, cringing at how dry his mouth suddenly felt. The naturally-formed tombs of ancient animals were one thing, but actual shrines were another. 

Illinois glanced down, fidgeting with the Warden’s cord before lifting it over his hat, letting it drape along his neck, the creepy totem now resting over his heart. 

As Penn watched, he felt himself reach into one of the lower pockets of his hiking vest. His fingers brushed against dry paint, feeling the Chimera Pipe's clay teeth and hollow eye-holes. He’d been worried about the possibility of it getting stolen while he and Illinois were away from the hotel room. 

That was the main reason he’d brought it along.

Had anything else compelled him to. . ?

Illinois rolled his shoulders, briskly shaking his head. “Alright, c’mon. We need to steer clear of this particular chamber. For a little while, at least.” He turned and started walking back up the ledges, beckoning for Penn to follow. 

Though Penn didn’t reply, he was quick to gather up his things, slinging his rucksack over his shoulder and marching along. He didn't dare look back at the sample he'd just carved, very pointedly leaving it behind.

Pieces of that oily feeling were still in his head, much more muffled than before. That wasn’t much of an improvement, since they also felt angrier, more desperate than before. Penn shivered badly, his eyes watering without warning, which led to him tripping over his own feet. 

Illinois caught him before he could taste the craggy floor. The adventurer’s features contorted with worry as he helped the paleontologist regain his balance. Penn guessed that his eyes were significantly more bloodshot than they had been a few minutes ago, judging by how Illinois sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth as he peered at them. 

“. . .Or maybe should we just head to the jeep,” Illinois coughed, keeping a hand on the small of Penn’s back as the two of them drew closer to the chamber’s entrance. “Get some sunshine, take a longer break, weigh our options before we come baaAAAAAAUUUGH!” 

How had neither of them noticed the ground beginning to tremble?

Penn barely had time to register the scream before Illinois barreled to the side, half-shoving-half-dragging him along. He let out a shocked shriek of his own, which wasted no time bouncing off the chamber walls as the duo landed in a heap in the corner of the first ledge. 

What felt like a Category 4 earthquake rammed into the chamber’s opening, accentuated by a thunderous cacophony of grinding gravel. The stone walls shook, causing centuries-old dust to rain from the ceiling.

Both Penn and Illinois cried out again, ducking and covering, grabbing onto one another for dear life. 

For a brief, horrible moment, the world was nothing but noise. 

Nothing but BOOMING and CRASHING. . .

Until the very last second, when the unmistakable chorus of splintering, then cracking, and then full-on shattering drowned out anything else. It almost sounded like glass, but it just didn’t quite make the mark. Whatever was breaking was obviously much thicker than glass, much more ancient than glass. . .

Penn knew what that was. He knew without having to see, without even having to know.

And then. . .well, it would be wrong to say that a heavy silence settled over everything. The sound of hitching, ragged gasps for air almost seemed deafening. 

“. . .I-is anything broken? Or bleeding?” Penn finally blurted, opening one eye a few seconds before the other. His companion looked like he’d been involved in either a classic baking fiasco or a freak accident in a cocaine lab. Even with a significant lack of mirrors down here, Penn could tell he was in the same boat. “There’s only a few scrapes on my arms.”

Illinois opened his mouth to reply, only to launch himself into a coughing fit as the tiny particles were sucked in. He shook his head and offered a thumbs-up. “Same here.”

His nerves were obviously still on fire, but the day he wasn’t a do-er was the the day he wasn’t Illinois. He gritted his teeth, brushing the dust off his face before craning his neck to survey whatever the hell had just happened.

The answer was. . .interesting, as an odd mix of triumph and aggravation swept over the adventurer’s features. He was back on his feet in a flash, readjusting his hat as he rushed away from the impromptu fallout shelter. “YyyyyyOU SON OF A BITCH! I THOUGHT WE’D SETTLED THIS THE LAST TIME!” 

Give him his due, Illinois seemed to sense the way Penn winced, as he paused his tirade to glance over his shoulder and wave a hand. “Don’t worry, I’m not talking about you.” 

That statement seemed to kickstart something, as Penn was suddenly up and following on shakey legs before he even felt himself moving. “What is it?! What is it?!”

Illinois scoffed, pointing an accusatory finger at the bottom of the chamber, at the petrified mass. . .or, what was left of it.

At least a couple hundred shards had been broken off and sent flying onto the higher ledges, courtesy of a large boulder that had crashed into the pit. Despite not struggling the way an animal would, it was clearly stuck, lodged in halfway.

Penn heaved a long-suffering sigh. He wasn’t sure if this topped the Walmart Disaster or not; even if the boulder really did have a mind of its own, at least it was in a place it actually had a modicum of business being in right now. 

“How many times do I have tO TEACH YOU THIS LESSON?” Illinois demanded, stooping down to snatch up a much smaller, more primitive cousin to his adversary and hurl it. The rock hit the boulder with a loud plunk before tumbling back down to the ground. 

“Knock it off, Illi,” Penn started, giving his friend a dig in the arm. “I’d say yelling won’t do anything, but in your case, yelling is only gonna make it mad.”

“Oh, please. Like it isn’t already mad!” Illinois contended. He kept his eyes glued to his craggy nemesis. “It’s because you didn’t catch me all those years ago, isn’t it? That’s your own damn fault! Losing a race to something eight times smaller and a few hundred weightclassses lighter says more about YOU than it does about your target!”

Penn narrowed his eyes, weighing the pros and cons that would come with reaching over to knock Illinois’ hat off. He’d just barely raised a hand when his gaze wandered back over to the boulder. . .to the cracks it’d left in the petrified mass. . .and he found himself frozen once more. 

“Illinois, wait—” he whispered. He started shivering, and not just from the cold lumps materializing in his throat. 

The explorer in question interrupted. “I wasn’t even taking that one idol; I was literally just trying to put it back! What the hell would a boulder want with an idol anyway?!”

“Illinois, stop, listen—!” Penn tried again, shaking his companion’s shoulder.  

Illinois cut him off yet again. “Why don’t you just sprout legs already, huh?! I’ve met rhinos who had better aim than you! And at least rhinos have bad eyesight as an excuse! You don’t even HAVE eyes, and yet you STILL try to single me out every damn year!”

“ILLINOIS!” Penn snapped, his voice shooting through several octaves as he grabbed the other man by the arm and forced him to take a few steps back.

The monologue came to an abrupt halt. Illinois swiveled his head to meet Penn’s eyes.

“What?” He asked with just a hint of attitude, looking perfectly casual for someone who had just been shouting obscenities at a boulder.

Penn gritted his teeth, his frustration giving way to fear as he frantically motioned toward the boulder. Or, to be more precise, what was happening underneath the boulder. What was happening to the remains of the mass in the pit. . .

Illinois looked back, squinting, incredulousness wafting off him in waves for about three seconds. By the fourth second, all the color drained right out of his face.

There was something on the other side of the mass. Something that was now pooling up through the new cracks with a chorus of soft, sickening sighs. 

Penn remembered watching videos of octopi using their boneless nature to their advantage, squeezing through the thinnest, tiniest, most unbelievable spaces to escape their enclosures. As stomach-churning as it’d been to watch, it’d managed to also be just as funny and fascinating.

There was only one way to see what was happening right now as funny or fascinating, and that was to simply not be human. Actually, scratch that, it involved not being anything that could be found among the natural order, or among sane, innocent minds. 

A large clot of dark, viscous tendrils clung to the boulder, slithering along to the top of it, visibly straining as more and more and more came oozing out. What was left of the petrified mass creaked and groaned and splintered, now swelling like either an egg on the brink of hatching or a pimple on the brink of popping. The pieces that hadn’t flown off were now being pushed up by the rising horror. 

It almost seemed to move like a liquid; this wasn’t tar, oil, or even the unimpressive sludge you could find anywhere just by digging deep enough to reach the moist, cold, protected bowels of soil. Magma mixed with gallons of blood was the closest guess, but that still wound up being wrong.

This was flesh. 

Blistering, boiling, contorting flesh like some awful hybrid of spider and slug that seemed to take any and all light and swallow it up.

A type of flesh that wasn’t supposed to exist.

In under a minute, enough of it had oozed out to create a mound that nearly touched the chamber’s ceiling. It kept writhing in place, but with purpose now. At least six coiling limbs sprouted from its sides, the ends of each splitting into a clutch of dripping claws.

“. . .¥ê§. . .”

The voice was like a swarm of cicadas, shifting through several pitches at once. A masculine edge seemed present somewhere within it—hell, there even seemed to be a hint of Midwestern accent, for some ungodly reason.

Holes of various shapes and sizes tore themselves open everywhere, screaming and soon gnashing as sets of shark-like teeth came blooming around them. Just as many, if not even more, eyes followed suite, bubbling through the skin, each blinking erratically and shifting through all sorts of colors. 

“¥ê§, ¥ê§, ¥È§!” The abhorrent voice continued. “̆'§ håþþêñêÐ! Ì'm ðµ†! Ì'm £ïñåll¥, £ÌñÄLL¥ ÖÚ†!”

The empty space at the top of the mound shuddered, forcing some of the material around the middle to surge upward, molding itself together to shape first a neck. . .and then a head. 

A pair of sockets drained themselves out in the front, promptly being filled by two more eyes, larger and wider and more focused than all the others.

A maw split open beneath them, revealing rows of teeth sharp enough to make even the most intimidating swords of yore look like Swiss Army toys.

“£RÈÈÐÖM!” The newly-formed monster cried, his laughter rippling through the air the same way lightning would streak through clouds and rain. 

All at once, the oily feeling was back, now focused on Penn’s chest rather than his head. It seemed to literally wash over him; the haze made him feel soaked, made his clothes feel like they were clinging to his skin. 

And unlike a few minutes ago, it wasn’t just squirming somewhere inside his flesh. 

No, this time, only half of it was doing that.

The other half was outside of him, as obvious-yet-invisible as the air itself.

And it.

Was. 

PULLING. 

Like he was a cadaver on an examining table, like the mortician had sliced a long line from his throat to his navel, like the two freshly-seperated halves of skin on his torso were being tugged apart, like his intestines were being dragged out hand-over-fist. 

None of it felt like normal pain, like real pain. 

It felt the same way a long, fat worm looked when its glistening, slimy skin was covered in fine soil. 

It felt the same way sulfur smelled as it rose up from a geyser in clouds of heavy, near-palpable fog. 

It felt the same way a infant sounded as it screamed while its umbilical cord was being cut. 

Penn knew he wasn’t bleeding, knew nothing was actually pouring out of him.

That didn’t make things any better.

His mind was bleeding. Ulcers were growing on his thoughts. 

He couldn’t know what the oily feeling was so ruthlessly taking from him, but he knew without knowing that it was something important. Something that he could survive without. . .but that kind of absence would make survival pointless. 

Pointless. . .pointless, pointless, pointless, pointless, pointless, pointless, pointless, Penn’s mind chanted as the monster’s multitude of eyes all stopped moving in their sockets, pupils dilating one after the other. 

All staring at him and Illinois. 

The monster stiffened, a surprised, excited gasp rushing into the air. 

“Wêll, wêll, wêll!” With a chorus of awful pops and cracks, the monster turned his neck to gaze down, down, down, his  primary eyes shining with the same predatory slyness of a snake that had just cornered a mouse. . .or two.

“ÄñÐ hêrê Ì †hðµgh† §ðmê†hïñg wå§ ð££!”

“Oh, something’s extremely off right now,” Illinois replied. It would’ve been a totally badass gesture on his part. . .except for the fact that his typically deep, rich, velvetine voice had tapered down into a shivering squeak. 

“ñðw, Ððñ'† gê† mê wrðñg, †hï§ ï§ †hê ß꧆ †hïñg †ð håþþêñ †ð mê ïñ ÄGȧ. ßµ† £ðr å mïñµ†ê, ï† jµ§† rêåll¥ £êl† lïkê §ðmê†hïñg wå§ m裏ïñg, ¥'kñðw?” The monster explained thoughtfully, seeming much more amused than unfazed. “Äñ êvêñ† lïkê †hï§ jµ§† ï§ñ'† ¢ðmþlê†ê. . .” 

He dipped his head, lowering himself to the ground, limbs tensing and back arching. Just like a cat getting ready to pounce. 

“. . .wï†h𵆠å ñï¢ê llê rål §å¢rï£ï¢ê!”

The monster’s mouth gaped open, the abyssal skin around his jaws shuddering as he cackled. Three long, sinuous tendrils stretched out between its fangs. One of them was a blur as it cracked like a whip, seemingly of its own accord, sending droplets of ichor to splatter against the walls and floor and immediately sizzle through stone.

Penn didn’t know how—or even why—he managed to move. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the abomination, couldn’t think through the haze of dread and terror. He was beyond steadying himself, but he still moved.

Paint-coated clay greeted his palm like a friend he’d known even longer than Illinois. 

In one swift, fluid, subconscious movement, he raised the Chimera Pipe to his face. 

The strange, warbling, howling music poured into the air.

As it did, as Penn put more force behind his breath, the monster froze. 

The monster’s skin stopped writhing. Those three tongues reeled back into his mouth, vanishing within the rows upon rows upon rows of teeth. 

As Penn stared, still playing, still expecting to die. . .somehow, he caught a glimpse of a shape in the monster’s form. Smack-dab in the spot where his neck met his chest. That shape trembled in a very unpleasant way, just like those full-body-twitches people got while they slept.

And then the monster started SCREAMING. 

It was a hideous concoction of shock and pain and fury. Like nothing Penn had ever heard before and desperately hoped to never hear again. 

Yet, by some miracle, it didn’t drown out the music. 

Penn’s lungs felt like they were on fire. His teeth were vibrating. Tears cascaded out of his eyes, streaming down his face, a lucky few managing to slide onto the Chimera Pipe. 

But he kept playing it.

Even as his vision blurred, even as he felt Illinois grab him by the shoulders and start dragging him away, he kept playing it. 

All the while, the monster kept shrieking as the music drilled into whatever awful mess his ears were. 

Penn just kept on playing. . .until. . .until. . .UNTIL. . .

___

“Ì'll å§k ågåïñ: hðw êx墆l¥,” the monster seethed, “ÐïÐ ¥ðµ gê† ¥ðµr grïm¥ llê håñЧ ðñ †hê§ê. . .†hïñg§?” He jabbed an accusatory talon first in the Chimera Pipe’s direction, then pivoted it toward the Warden, spitting out the last word like it was a rotten oyster. 

He’d gone back and forth between leering at the trapped archeology buffs and snarling at the Chimera Pipe multiple times now. Because it seemed that one of the very few things he couldn’t do was get too close to it, let alone try to touch it. He’d already hovered one of his hand-like appendages over it, only to snatch it away and hiss a few seconds later, as though the clay instrument had an invisible cloud of poison around it. 

“And I’ll tell you as many times as I have to: it’s none of your fucking business!” Illinois retorted. “Besides, you’re one to talk. Our hands aren’t grimy, and they’re not little, either.”

In spite of his horror, Penn couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow in Illinois’ direction. The monster’s palms seemed to be as wide as the jeep’s tires (for now, at least).

A strange growl rose from the monster’s throat, sort of like a honey badger that just pulled what was left of its tail out of a malfunctioning garbage disposal. It signaled the very odd way of how the creature’s anger issues combined with the fact that hell would have to freeze over before said creature even thought about giving a damn.

The growl transitioned into an equally grating chuckle as the monster lightly shook his head. “¥ðµr §þê¢ïê§ ðñl¥ hå§ å £êw †hïñg§ gðïñg £ðr ï†. ÄñÐ Ì gµê§§ mðxïê ï§ ðñê 𣠆hêm.”

The monster obviously couldn’t relate to humans (or anything that had been born on Earth, for that matter). There was no doubt that he saw things differently, considering how his too-many eyes rolled and shook and popped and melted and dilated and constricted and. . .

Therefore, Penn had no idea how the monster saw things like moxie.

Moxie felt more distant than the setting sun, than the slowly-dying light that was clawing against the ground. 

As much of an adrenaline junkie as Illinois was, as stubborn as he was to sass a warping mound of flesh made of nightmares, it was easy to tell that he was terrified. Anyone with a single, solitary iota of sanity would be terrified.

Penn couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so helpless. As he stared through the windshield, the monster had most of his attention, of course. . .but the Chimera Pipe was quite a strong contender, what with how it was now lying on the ground just a few feet away from the jeep. 

How had he possibly dropped it? 

It shouldn’t have mattered how fast he and Illinois had been running, how violently he’d been shaking. He should’ve had the death-grip to end all goddamn death-grips on that thing. 

If he hadn’t dropped it, then he could’ve kept on playing it. 

If he could keep on playing it, then maybe that would’ve forced the monster to leave him and Illinois alone. Penn was sure that the monster would keep coming back to prowl around them, taunting or threatening or making sarcastic attempts at cajoling, but at least the pipe’s music would’ve forced him to keep just a little more distance than this. 

But that wasn’t going to happen, because he’d dropped it like only a disposable movie character could. Now, staying in this car, watching the monster’s body spasm and twist, listening to his vile smalltalk was the only option he and Illinois had. 

Oh sure, Illinois had taken the Warden’s string from around his neck, opting instead to tie it to the rearview mirror and let the totem slowly spin to and fro. 

While Penn now understood how the creepy little thing truly did have some protective mojo to it, whatever supernatural vibes that wafted off of it only kept the monster from pressing his horrific face right up against the windows.

Because life could just never be bothered to be that easy or fair.

“What the hell are you?” Penn finally blurted. “What was that stuff in the chamber? How long were you down there?” 

One of the monster’s primary eyes slid around on his face and drilled into Penn’s brown, watery orbs. He was unable to look away as that eye twitched—no, squirmed in its socket. Little lumps appeared under the sclera, bulging and stretching until a bunch of spindly shapes burst through. 

. . .Arms. Nine tiny arms that thrashed the air as the monster’s quivering pinprick pupil spun in the center of them. Not just clawing aimlessly; they were trying to reach for Penn, every single one of them. 

Penn clasped a hand over his mouth to keep something much more solid than his ragged breath from spilling through his lips. 

The monster chuckled again. “Wêll, †hå† l姆 qµê§†ïðñ ï§ †hê êå§ï꧆: †ÖÖ ÐÄMñ LÖñG. §ïñ¢ê ßê£ðrê ¥ðµr åñ¢ê§†ðr§ wêrê êvêñ rð¢kïñg ïñ †hêïr ¢råÐlê§.” The monster then cupped his chin with one of his many maladjusted hands, casually drumming another set of crooked digits on the jeep’s hood. “ÄñÐ Ì'm håþþ¥ †ð åñ§wêr †hê ð†hêr§. . .ï£ ¥ðµ ¢ðmê 𵆠hêrê.”

The nausea was stubborn, but Penn still managed to furrow his brow and roll his eyes. “Right, right. Why wouldn’t we have a meet n’ greet with the same thing that just tried to kill us?”

“ßê¢åµ§ê ¥ðµ ÖWÈ mê!” The monster snapped, a metallic screech mixing into his tone as he dragged his claws along. 

Illinois blinked incredulously. “How do you figure that?”

The monster resumed pacing around the jeep—well, slithering was probably a better term, since he didn’t seem to move any muscles or make any sort of effort. And yet he moved with fluid, frightening speed.

“¥ðµ †wð £rêêÐ mê. W̆HÖÚ† £ïñÐïñg å wå¥ †ð ¢ðññꢆ ¥ðµr§êlvê§ †ð mê, Ì mïgh† åÐÐ.”

The jeep as a whole suddenly dipped, leaving Penn to presume that the monster was now leaning on the top. He thanked his lucky stars that the sunroof’s fabric panel was closed against the glass.

“. . .Technically, that damn boulder freed you,” Illinois argued. 

“¥êåh, wêll, ¥ðµ ßrðµgh† †hê ßðµlÐêr hêrê ïñ †hê £ïr§† þlå¢ê!” The monster sputtered. “Ì£ ¥ðµ †hïñk ¥ðµ ¢åñ jµ§† wålk åwå¥ £rðm whå† håþþêñêÐ êårlïêr, †hêñ Ì'vê gð† §ðmê ñï¢ê ßêå¢h-§ïÐê þrðþêr†¥ ïñ †hê †hðµ§åñÐ-È¥êÐ †ï¢k Qµêêñ'§ þð¢kê† Ðïmêñ§ïðñ †ð §êll ¥ðµ.”

“Ha! Four-and-a-half vengeance curses have been put on my head, and I managed to get through all of them!” Illinois craned his neck to aim a smug smirk at the monster. “If dodging consequences was a sport, I’d be in the Hall of Fame.” 

The monster groaned, a huge forked tongue flicking in and out of his maw like a party favor. He began to mutter under his breath in a very much non-English language, closing each and every one of his eyes for almost a full minute. The way they all eventually snapped open again would’ve given anyone with trypophobia a stroke.

“†hå†'§ whå† ¥ðµ †hïñk rïgh† ñðw. Ì'vê ålrêåÐ¥ gð††êñ å gððÐ rêåÐ ðñ ¥ðµr §ðµl, åñÐ… 墆µåll¥, ñêvêr mïñÐ. Ì wðµlÐñ'† wåñ† †ð §þðïl åñ¥†hïñg.” The monster hummed with malicious delight. He then sighed, drumming whip-thin tendrils against the back window. “Lððk, ï§ ï† †hê §þïÐêr'§ £åµl† whêñ å ßµñ¢h 𣠣lïê§ gê† §†µ¢k ïñ  wêß? ñð. Må¥ßê †hê £lïê§ wï§h ï† wå§, ßµ† Ðêêþ Ððwñ †hê¥ kñðw †hå† †hê¥ gð† †hêm§êlvê§ †råþþêÐ.”

“Wow. It’s almost like the spider spun that web in the first place,” Penn muttered. 

“Èx墆l¥! ßê¢åµ§ê †hå†'§ †hê §þïÐêr'§ rïgh†. †hå†'§ jµ§† hðw §þïÐêr§ lïvê.” The monster peeked over that spot where the roof met the top of the windshield. “§ð, hðw ï§ ï† åñ¥ Ðêrêñ† ï£ Ì †åkê ¥ðµ?”

“If we had any way of actually knowing that you were somewhere in Chuck’s Hole, then we never would’ve gone poking around in it!” Illinois contended, raising his arms in a frustrated lame gesture.

And now it was the monster’s turn to blink. It took much longer than it probably should have “. . .Ì'm jµ§† gðññå ïgñðrê †hê £å¢† †hå† å hµmåñ ï§ ¢ållïñg m¥ þrï§ðñ ‘Çhµ¢k’§ Hðlê.’”

Penn froze again for three, maybe five seconds, before doing something he hadn’t thought was possible right now: he sputtered a laugh. It was a very small and very short-lived laugh, yes, but it still seemed to echo through the jeep’s interior. 

A name like Chuck’s Hole just had some weird magic to it. 

It was funny even when spoken by a gruesome Stephen-King-wet-dream-come-to-life whose voice sounded like broken glass that just so happened to be dripping with blood. 

Illinois swallowed a lump in his throat, glancing at Penn and offering a tiny, grateful smile. 

Hell, even the monster seemed to be biting back a grin at such a title; or, the extra mouth that had just opened up somewhere on his stomach-region was doing that, at least. The monster’s primary mouth continued to snarl, his front row of teeth actively lengthening and curving upward like tusks.

His weight disappeared from the jeep’s roof. Subsequent thumps and slight bounces were elicited from the undercarriage as he crawled beneath it, making Penn think of a shark lurking just below a fishing boat. 

“Öh ¢’mðñ, Ìllïñðï§. §ðmêðñê wï†h ¥ðµr ïñ§†ïñ¢†§, ¥ðµr êxþêrïêñ¢ê, ñð† ålrêåÐ¥ kñðwïñg †hå† §ðmê†hïñg lïkê mê wå§ wåï†ïñg £ðr ¥ðµ Ððwñ †hêrê?” The monster surged back up and stood right next to the driver-side door. He shrunk to the size of a normal man, but his eyes and mouth were still far too large as he peered at Illinois through the window. 

He nodded toward the mouth of the cavern and giggled, a chittering noise similar to an engine that was melting from the inside out. “¥ðµ ¢åñ'† §êrïðµ§l¥ êxþꢆ µ§ †ð ßêlïêvê †hå†.”

Rotating his head at a 270 degree angle, the monster leaned closer, just enough so that the discolored steam of his breath fogged up the glass. The horribly strange sweetness that could only ever waft off of rotting flesh seeped into the car. 

“ñð, ¥ðµ håÐ å £êêlïñg åß𵆠mê. †hå†'§ wh¥ ¥ðµ wåñ†êÐ ¥ðµr £rïêñÐ hêrê †ð ¢ðmê ålðñg, ï§ñ'† ï†? †ð gïvê hïm å §†ðr¥ †hå† wðµlР墆µåll¥ ßê ïmþrꧧïvê †ð †êll? †ð §hðw hïm å rêål ¢hållêñgê? †ð †ê§† hïm åñÐ þrðvê †hå† hê §†ïll ¢åñ'† håñÐlê å§ mµ¢h å§ ¥ðµ ¢åñ?”

For the very first time all day, the energy drained from Illinois’ features. 

His mouth dropped, opening and closing with no words coming out. His eyes bulged from their sockets, contorted by his brow as a dark, slick, awful form of guilt welled inside them. 

He forcefully bowed his head, now trying to keep his focus on the steering wheel and only the steering wheel.

He’d shown fear before, but this was different. 

This was despair. 

 “NO!”

The monster’s head snapped up, now gazing through the jeep, past Illinois, who didn’t dare budge an inch.

Penn dug his nails into the armrest, feeling beads of sweat materialize on his forehead. He’d surprised himself before, but never quite like this. 

“ÐïÐ Ì hêår ¥ðµ rïgh†?” Some of the monster’s eyes narrowed in time with how his smile sharpened. “ÇðµlÐ ¥ðµ rêþêå† †hå† £ðr mê?”

“I said NO!” Penn echoed, his heart beating with the speed of a phantom hummingbird. “Illinois didn’t drag me into anything! We made the mutual decision to come here!”

Penn’s throat was raw from all the acidic bile he’d been keeping down, his jaw ached as though he’d just sprinted in a marathon. 

“He doesn’t think any less of me just because my work is different from his! He’s never tried to test me before, and that’s not what he was doing today! He’s one of my best friends! We work on projects like this because we respect each other! You’re wrong!”

In his peripheral vision, he watched as Illinois kept his head down, quiet as a statue. Aside from the way his hands trembled, it truly seemed like he would never move again.

“. . .Mê? Wrðñg?” Amusement crept into the monster’s rolling eyes. He seemed to tsk-tsk at Penn’s statement, unwinding the sound into a mess of clicks and hisses. “ ñ È V È R . ”

Penn blinked, and the monster was suddenly looming right outside the passenger door. Now staring at him through the quickly-fogging glass. 

It was all Penn could do to not shrink back as the monster bared his teeth. “Wh¥ §hðµlÐ ¥ðµ þµ† ðñ åïr§, ¢ðñ§ïÐêrïñg whå† ¥ðµr ¢ðµ§ïñ§ årê Ððïñg?”

Penn's shoulders slumped out of raw, blind confusion. “. . .W-wha—?”

The monster smirked like the leader of a high school gossip-mill. “Öñê 𣠥ðµr ¢ðµ§ïñ§ W̧Hȧ hê håÐ †êê†h lïkê mïñê. Hê jµ§† LÖVȧ ßï†ïñg ïñ†ð †hê þïñk §†rꆢh 𣠣lê§h! Hê måkê§ hï§ lïvïñg §lïÐïñg kñïvê§ ålðñg §kïñ åñÐ §¢råþïñg †hêm ågåïñ§† ßðñê§. W冢hïñg lï£ê Ðråïñ 𵆠ð£ ê¥ê§ åñÐ †hrð冧 åñÐ £êêlïñg ï† rµ§h ðvêr hï§ håñЧ, åll wårm åñÐ rêÐ.”

As the monster spoke, the grin on his face kept growing. . .and growing. . .and growing. His lips just didn’t stop peeling back, didn’t stop stretching. A grotesque amount of new teeth had to materialize to fill his expression.

In less than a minute, the monster’s entire face was a maw, his eyes having been overtaken by the layers upon layers of enamel and sinew.

“. . .Öh, ÐïÐñ'† ¥ðµ kñðw †hå†, þêññ? ÐïÐñ'† ¥ðµ kñðw †hå† ðñê 𣠥ðµr ¢ðµ§ïñ§ ï§ å ßµ†¢hêr? ÐÌÐñ'† ¥ÖÚ?!” The monster then threw his head back and laughed, revealing multiple sets of malformed jaws nestled inside his hellish smile.

The oily haze tugged at Penn’s guts yet again. It hurt in the same, surreal way as before. . .but not quite as much. This time, while he was definitely losing something he still couldn’t identify, it came out in more of an unsteady trickle than a firm, ruthless pace. 

It was similar to a nightmare. It almost felt real, but it just couldn’t fully exist. Not while there was a physical shield between prey and predator.

Sooner or later, the monster’s laughing fit died down to mere giggles. That wasn’t much of an improvement, since the giggles in question felt like drops of boiling water to the ears, but at least it wasn’t as loud. 

“Jµ§† §ðmê†hïñg †ð ¢hêw ðñ,” the monster mentioned. “Må¥ßê µ§ê lïñê§ lïkê †hå† ï£ ¥ðµ §êê hïm; Ì †hïñk hê'Ð åþþrê¢ïå†ê ï†.”

Penn knew he should’ve passed out by now. He should’ve crumpled onto the glove compartment and accidentally set off the airbags (thankfully, Illinois wasn’t in the proper headspace to get angry at something like that) and stayed that way until he was forcefully woken up at a hospital. 

But he was still awake, so his subconscious decided that he might as well keep on surprising himself. 

“Sure,” he replied, voice hollow and quiet. “I’ll take advice from something that can’t even break a single damn window.” 

Those layers of teeth pulled away from the monster’s face, letting his eyes reappear just in time to give Penn a vicious, appraising look that reached into him and made his pancreas break into a cold sweat. 

The monster clicked one of his tongues again. “Mðxïê.”

Then, with a terrible cr-i-i-i-ck, the monster’s head turned away, taking his focus off of Penn and directing toward the space behind the jeep. A shudder ran through his contorting body; his eyes all widened as he rolled his shoulders.

Heart in his throat, Penn’s eyes ventured to the rearview mirror. The reflection was still and silent; nothing but rocky sand that made up the ground, complimented by the dry shrubs and cacti growning here and there. More rock spires stood patiently, looking like simple smudges in the air due to the distance, just barely visible in the moonlight. 

Penn felt his stomach drop for what had to be the sixty-ninth time today.

THE MOONLIGHT. . .

The sun had set. Everything was dark now. 

“Äh, †hå†'§ mµ¢h ßꆆêr. ßrïgh†ñꧧ åñÐ hêå† måkê§ mê h,” the monster announced, his twisted voice forcibly snagging Penn’s focus and shoving it in the right direction.

The monster slid back from the jeep, still in full-view of its occupants from the windshield. He remained the size of a human, with a shape that was almost convincing. 

Almost was the key word here, since most humans didn’t tend to have an assortment of eye-and-mouth-covered tentacles where a pair of legs should’ve been. 

“Gµê§§ ï†'§ ¥ðµr lµ¢k¥ Ðå¥, ßð¥§!” The monster chirped, sarcasm mixed with a fair bit of unholy venom dripping from his maw. “Ì mïgh† †ê¢hñï¢åll¥ håvê åll †hê †ïmê ïñ †hê wðrlÐ, ßµ† Ì'vê ålrêåÐ¥ w姆êÐ êñðµgh ð£ ï† hêrê.”

He swayed from side-to-side like a flower caught in a gentle breeze. A third eye opened up in the center of his forehead, pitch-black with a shaking, shining white pupil. It squinted at Penn in a mocking-yet-thoughtful way. 

A distinct pinching sensation bloomed under the skin of Penn’s face, followed by a faint dripping noise in the back of his head.

The monster snickered as the third eye sunk back into whatever special kind of hell was lurking inside him. “§ðmê §å¥ ¥ðµ'rê ñêvêr ålðñê ïñ †hê Ðårk. ÄñÐ å§ †rµê å§ †hå† ï§. . .†hê Ðårk ï§ñ'† whå† ¥ðµ ñêêÐ †ð wðrr¥ åßðµ†. ¥ðµ kñðw wh¥?”

Grotesque stretching noises ripped through the quiet as his skin split on several different areas of his body, like seams bursting on a raggedy doll.

“ßê¢åµ§ê †hê êx墆 §åmê †hïñg gðê§ £ðr ¥ÖÚR MÌñÐ.”

Without warning, the monster’s form began to unravel. 

His writhing, warping flesh almost seemed paper-thin. Strips of it tore themselves away in various sizes, first lapping at the air around him, and then curling through it. 

“ñð m円êr whêrê ¥ðµ gð, whå† ¥ðµ §êê ðr Ðð, hðw ¥ðµ †hïñk åñÐ Ðrêåm åñÐ lïvê. . .”

They all formed a shadowy a halo around him, moved with the same impossible sychronized grace as a school of fish. The process was a blur, moving too quickly and too slowly.

“†hêrê'll ålw奧 ßê ð†hêr †hïñg§ wåï†ïñg £ðr ¥ðµ ïñ †hêrê. ÄLWÄ¥§.”

The strips of skin began to dissolve into nothingness, the same way wisps of steam would vanish as soon as they climbed high enough. All at once, the only seemingly solid parts left were the monster’s primary eyes, as well as his jagged, glinting teeth. Those features hung in the air, glowing and staring and grinning like some psychotic bastardization of the Cheshire Cat. 

“Wêll, †hå†'§ åßðµ† ï† £ðr ñðw. Ì'll £ïñÐ ¥ðµ ågåïñ §ðmêÐå¥!”

The eyes flickered, melting in place. The teeth gnashed, abandoning their structured rows in favor of gliding around in a tight, sharp circle. 

“  Ì ' l l   £ ï ñ Ð   ¥ ð µ   å g å å å å å ï ï ï ñ  ! ”

And then. . .they were gone. 

Just like that.

As if nothing had even been there in the first place.

Penn stared at the empty space for what felt like an hour. Then a strong, salty, metallic taste dribbled into his mouth and broke the spell. The organic stench clung to the back of his throat, feeling dry and moist at the same time. He shook his head in revulsion.

Thanks to the lack of light, his reflection in the car window was just an inch away from not being visible at all. The amount of blood seeping from his nose changed that rather quickly. His hands moved in a mechanical manner, fishing napkins and tissues from the glovebox to wad up and press against his face.

Illinois was still holding his head low, shivering, knuckles white around the steering wheel.

Not-so-distant memories of the chamber came flooding in, and before Penn knew it, his free hand was wrapping around the Warden, tugging it away from the rearview mirror and pushing it up to Illinois’ temple. 

A shudder ran through the adventurer’s shoulders before they visibly loosened up. His grip slackened. But his jaw was still clenched, and his eyes were still glued to his lap.

So, Penn did the next best thing: he gripped the ends of the Warden’s string and rotated his fist, making the totem spin in a circle. A breathy whistle began to cut through the silence.

Once the creepy little doll was a blur, Penn grabbed Illinois’ hat and flung it to the backseat. He then flicked his wrist, causing it to crash against the top of Illinois’ head.

The ensuing thunk! was promptly drowned out as Illinois all but trebucheted himself against the window. “—aaaAAAUUGH GETOUTGETOUTGETOUT!”

“Hey! Heyheyhey! Illinois! Illinois, calm down!” Penn cried, grabbing his companion’s arm. 

Illinois’ movements slowed, and eventually stopped, though his chest heaved in and out with unnecessary force. He gazed at Penn with wide, bloodshot eyes. 

Penn quietly reached under his seat and produced one of many spare water bottles. The plastic was sweaty, the ice inside having melted long ago, but still cold to the touch. He offered it to Illinois, who shakily took it and started chugging. 

“Not too fast, you’ll make yourself sick,” Penn half-heartedly coached as he shoved the tissues into a trash bag by his shoes. His nose should’ve taken longer to stop bleeding.

Illinois’ voice was a sopping-wet wheeze as he finally put the bottle down, having emptied half of its contents. “. . .Feel like that’s the least of our worries.” 

“Don’t remind me.” 

Penn set the Warden down on the dashboard, sliding it across to its owner. 

Illinois didn’t hesitate to grab it and hold it close to his chest like a little boy who’d just found a beloved stuffed animal he’d lost a couple weeks ago. He closed his eyes, gently tapping his fingers against the doll’s head in a quick, specific rhythm. This carried on for a moment, and some of the tension drained away from his features. His breathing slowed into a little sigh. 

His eyes snapped back open and automatically began squinting at Penn. 

The paleontologist raised his hands in a confused, defensive gesture. 

“Where’s the pipe?” Illinois murmured. 

Penn pursed his lips as he nodded at the windshield. The Chimera Pipe was, indeed, still out there, laying on the ground in a way that made it seem to be staring at the sky.

Illinois nodded, clicking his tongue. “Go get it.” 

Penn flinched, eyes darting over to the mouth of the cave. To the palpable-looking darkness that waited further inside. . .

“He’s gone, Penn,” Illinois reassured, though his face twisted at such a gruesomely obvious mention. “If he was still here, we’d both feel it. Trust me.”

It took another awkward minute for Penn to reach over and grab the door’s handle. He sucked in a deep breath through his teeth and sprinted out, nearly tripping into a slide on the dusty gravel.

Then the car door was slamming shut and he was back in his seat, this time with the beastly ocarina resting on his lap. It grinned up at him, its bruise-colored paint shining in the dim light. 

Penn was so caught up in staring at its little eye-holes that he didn’t hear the jingle of keys or the engine finally starting to rumble. (He barely even noticed the string of profanities on Illinois’ part.)

For the next five minutes or so, the only thing to register was the rumbling of tires beneath his feet. 

Finally, Penn forced himself to break the silence. “. . .So, we’re going back to the hotel?”

Illinois nodded, not taking his eyes off of the road. “And once we get there, we’re packing up and heading home.”

Under normal circumstances, that type of last-minute nonsense would’ve left Penn all sorts of aggravated. But these circumstances were nowhere near normal. Even with how late it was, how Penn was feeling a type of fatigue that should only come after you had all but a pint of blood sucked out by a swarm of mosquitos, Penn knew he wouldn’t be able to get any sleep tonight. Not for the next couple nights, really.

“We’ll have to call a company before we leave, though,” Illinois sighed. “To get Chuck’s Hole sealed off, I mean. No-one else can go down there. It might have other. . .things waiting.”

A small, vague hum was the only response Penn could come up with. That was what confirmed how the rest of the night wasn’t exactly going to be pleasant; the title wasn’t even enough to make him or his friend laugh like before.

Illinois seemed to glance at him, to catch the state of his features, to maybe even read his mind for a second or two. “Things’ll turn up, Penn. I can guess how you’re feeling right now, but that’s just because it’s your first time dealing with something like this. We’ll both bounce back, I swear.”

Penn turned the Chimera Pipe in his hands, drumming his fingers on its clay teeth. “Be honest: does the whole ‘happens to the best of us’ schtick really apply right now?”

“Yeah, it does,” Illinois said in a matter-of-fact tone. “I’ve had worse experiences.” 

Penn rolled his eyes, bracing his elbow near the window to rest his cheek against his palm. “Oh, let me guess: sometime before you even met me, you wound up accidentally releasing a surreal-horror-manifest just like the one who was looking at us like someone wheeled out a birthday cake?”

Illinois’ face went blank for several seconds, making a clear effort to stay focused on driving rather than stare at his companion with unfathomable dark eyes. 

Fortunately for him, Penn took on staring for the both of them, now worried. “Illinois?”

Illinois sighed again, lightly shaking his head. “. . .I wouldn’t say that guy was exactly like the one we just saw. For one thing, he was on the other side of a door at the end of a hall—”

“You’re kidding.”

Illinois didn’t answer. 

“Please tell me you’re kidding,” Penn repeated, voice completely and utterly deadpan. “Please. You have so much to live for.” 

“You’re right, I do.” Illinois snorted, seemingly in spite of  himself. “That’s why I take the Warden with me everywhere. That’s why I string it up on the door before I go to bed. So I don’t have to hear any knocking or demands or bribes or. . .” He trailed off, hands slowly but surely starting to shake on the steering wheel again. 

One of Penn's sore eyes twitched. He didn’t want to close them; closing them would only conjure images of writhing flesh, of too many eyes where there shouldn’t be eyes, of too many teeth where there shouldn’t be teeth. 

Still, he had to. He had to close them and knead at him forehead in a strange effort to keep his braincells intact.  “. . .Oh my God, Illi. . .”

The jeep shuddered as Illinois drove, the sandy road a bit loose under its tires. 

The blurry figures of cacti stood almost at attention as the duo passed them by; a tiny owl poked its head out of a hole in the base of one, its huge, curious eyes shining in the dark. If you concentrated, you could just make out the howls of coyotes somewhere off in the distance. 

Illinois spoke up again, a hefty dose of hesitation having been injected into his voice. “What did he mean about your cousins?”

A spark of cold energy rattled through Penn’s ribs and plummeted into his stomach. “I didn’t think you actually heard that.”

“Well, I did. What did he mean when he said. . .those things?” Illinois coughed.

“I. . .” Penn stayed quiet for a moment before sighing again, this time with an air that was more anxious than tired. “I have absolutely no idea. I haven’t seen or heard from either of them since we were kids.”

Illinois considered this. The thoughtfulness in his eyes wasn’t a hopeful type. “You really don’t know?”

Penn shook his head. “No, I don’t.”

Illinois cringed, carefully sending a concerned look his companion’s way. “If that’s the case, then you need to find out sometime.” 

Penn didn’t know how to reply to that. 

So, he settled on gazing at the sky through the window, nervously taking in the moon’s silvery glow, trying to ignore what felt like sharp teeth wrapped around his lungs.

@sammys-magical-au @insane4fandoms @im-a-weird0 @b-is-in-the-closet

[missveryvery]

are you a tgcf wiki admin?

idk if admin is the right word. I don't even know if I still have permissions. I wrote some of the entries for it. I went nuts because ling wen's entry wasn't correct, and made a giant document to present to the admin like "listen here's all the citations why this isn't correct", basically there's a chapter where Ling Wen and Xie Lian sit down and talk about the brocade immortal and refute a lot of what the legend was.

I fleshed out Shi brothers and Mu Qing and whatever else I had a fever about at the time. Now that the new translation has been fully released, I think some stuff needs to be updated. Like the part where Feng Xin reveals him and Mu Qing go on adventures all the time and Xie Lian is like "....oh!!", it wasn't clear if this was a solid translation or not.

A friend told people are mad at me on twitter and I assume this is why you're asking. Some people are upset because they think I contrived for Xie Lian and Hua Cheng to have shorter entries. It's a wiki. If you want to add to it, contact the admin and edit it.

Also they think I'm "anti-Xie Lian" which is weird. I think people need to accept that characters do bad things sometimes and recognizing that doesn't mean you hate the character. The whole book is about forgiveness, trying to fix mistakes, dealing with not being able to fix mistakes, the concept of are you going to be mad about this forever".

All the characters make mistakes and do bad things. Xie Lian is a good person, an incredible person. Most people agree that the messed up things he did and the mistakes he made were understandable and forgive him for them. But some people get super upset if you point out that he did anything wrong. And they get mega upset if you try to extend the same courtesy "they did something fucked up, it was understandable" to other people. Which is something I do for Shi Wudu but people have seriously harassed me for pointing out bad stuff he's done.

Some people also super can't handle "your first impression isn't always correct". Even though that's the whole book.

All that aside:

People could have just gone "the wiki is lacking stuff, I'll contact the admin and edit it," just like I did. Instead they made up conspiracy theories, dug up things I've said out of context, and sent me anon hate:

All that effort spent trying to dig up dirt on me could have been spent doing the hard work of getting your citations together and updating the entry for the characters you love.

I cite all my sources. If you want to change something because you think an entry is biased, cite your sources and do it. The mod does not care as long as it's properly cited, the important thing is accuracy.

[starlight-bread-blog]

https://x.com/squiderdoodle/status/1700646280765030734?s=46&t=Vdy_TkSLcoBBVCnxmYyBxQ

Not sure you want my opinion on the matter, I don't know a whole lot about that side of the industry. I try not to talk about things I don't fully understand. If I make any mistakes (which I'll try to avoid) I'd like to be corrected. With that being said I appreciate your ask. So, on with the topic!

If I understand correctly, there are three things here: Not being credited for the work they've made and not being given enough work while being paid per the work they do.

Starting with the credit. The concept stills were put into the episode, although with some changes.

Perhaps that's why Viv didn't credit them? Which is odd, sibce there have been changes in the storyboards and to my knowledge they were still credited.

Whatever the case may be, it's payed work. They did work for Viv. And they should be credited for it.

Also, I found something interesting in the replies...

Make what you will.

Now about the second issue: Not being given enough work while being paid per the work they do. In my opinion that's highly inconsiderate and negligent. That's how they get money to buy food, they need the money and came to work to get it. That's, well, the whole point.

This reminds me of Covid's unpaid leaves. (Not the same obviously, but now there's no pandemic too so)..

Thank you so much for the ask and have a nice day💗

[esteemed-excellency]

Here's a post about Hiram and the Deviless, under the cut because it got a little long. Their story follows the Intimate of Devils storyline, but I wanted to elaborate on my headcanon too.

They meet at the Brass Embassy around 1870, not even a decade has passed since the Fall, and Hiram is still in the process of rebuilding his life (again) after his first arrest. He's also in the process of studying the Neath and the Correspondence, and he decides to keep in touch with the Deviless to learn more about the neathy languages. He's often at his Brass Embassy guest room, the only lodging able to withstand the incendiary side effects of his studies. He had enough experience in dealing with the devils, having resorted to spirifage to make a living in the past, to know that the Deviless is only after his soul, but he's after information, and she's charming, so he doesn't mind indulging her.

Their meetings are always pleasant, and things progress smoothly, in a mutually beneficial arrangement that results in a series of empty gestures of politeness and tenderness. It's only after some time that he has his italicised "Oh." moment, which is more of an italicised "Oh no." moment, as he realises that even if she's only after his soul, he's not exclusively interested in information anymore, and their meetings are something he looks forward to.

Things progress with less and less empty gestures on his part, until she invites him over for the Abstraction. Hiram knows enough about spirifage and soullessness, and he considers the option very carefully. The violant incident is still recent, and soullessness would probably help him get rid of headaches and flashbacks; nightmares are becoming very inconvenient and dampening their effect without always resorting to laudanum would be ideal. But most of all, he knows he just can’t say no to the Deviless, and he knows she knows it. His soul would make a lovely gift, she adores it so much, after all. He wonders if she knows his heart belongs to her, too.

Meanwhile, the Deviless is having a really good time meeting this random human who seems to be in posession of a very nice soul. Their meetings are always pleasant, Hiram is an interesting interlocutor, he's always asking the most peculiar questions about the languages of the Neath and the nature of Hell, and she always responds truthfully, entertained by his curiosity. He can't seem to get rid of headaches and nightmares but that's not her problem, even though she sometimes catches herself wondering how he’s doing. One time, he even manages to give her a flashback and a mild headache, immediately excusing himself. He shows up at their next date wearing an irrigo tinted monocle, and she gets the distinct impression that he commissioned it just for her sake. She doesn’t mind the attention, or the gifts, or the conversations, or even that one eventual headache, it all makes his soul so very alluring.

It's not always easy to charm humans into giving away their soul, and Hiram is no different at first, but he's always looking for something and, whatever that is, the concept of Abstraction won’t interfere with his plans. As they talk about it, she notices an eagerness on his part that she never noticed before, but that's what happens when humans mess around with things they don't understand, and he has a tendency to do that a lot. Maybe that's why his soul is so alluring.

Her very own italicised "Oh no." moment happens right at the Abstraction. As she sees his blank expression, she realises she might have made a mistake. Admittedly, she cared very much about the attention, and the gifts, and the conversations, and yes, even that one headache. She gained one lovely soul, but a soul all by itself can’t bring her roses, or dance with her, or invite her out to dinner, or read her poetry, or play with her bat. It just floats in its little bottle. She realises she was in fact as interested about the man as she was about the soul, which is frankly baffling and somewhat embarassing if you are a soul snatching being from outer space. But the damage is done. She seals the contract with her ribbon and she leaves a little rose with it.

Hiram wakes up the following day not feeling tired, or sore, or scared, or particularly alive. His memories of the evening are a little fuzzy, but he knows exactly what happened as soon as he sees the contract. He doesn't feel particularly anything actually, but for the first time in months his night wasn't plagued by nightmares. The Deviless left a ribbon and a rose with the conctract, and he presumes it to be a sweet gesture on her part.

As the days go on, he still gets flashbacks and headaches. Sometimes he still feels the flashbacks, but they don't bother him as much as they used to. Nothing feels consequential, as inconsequential are his conversations with friends and acquaintances, his affairs, his studies, the evenings at Mahogany Hall, and his usual routine. What doesn't feel inconsequential is the little rose drying on his desk. He finds himself coming back to the little rose trying to figure out how he feels about it. He remembers how he's supposed to feel about a drying flower, and about the person who left it for him, but he doesn't seem to be able to pinpoint what he's feeling now. Whatever he's feeling must be strong because it's enough to get him a flashback and make him feel something. The little rose seems to make him very upset for some reason. He decides the unpleasantness derives from the fact that the little rose is losing a petal, and it should be dried properly, or at least substituted. It would be a pity to buy another rose and don't get at least one more, though.

As the days go on, the Deviless gets a little disappointed about not receiving any more gifts, and not being asked about the specifics of hellish Laws. All her new human acquaintances seem to be lacking in hubris, she notices. The exquisitely brilliant soul on her shelf is still floating in its little bottle but it's not capable of doing anything particularly interesting, except floating and being mesmerising, so after a few days she decides to sell it away. It makes a valuable collector item, but what use have collectors items if they won't bring you out to dinner, or ask you to a dance. Life can get boring sometimes if you're a soul snatching being from outer space.

After two weeks she starts asking around the Embassy about their regular visitors, but it's Hiram who finds her first at her house. He's wearing her satin ribbon and he brought a few roses. "It would have been a pity to buy a new one and not get at least one more." he says, handing her an entire bouquet. He's more detached and distant, but their day goes swimmingly, and soon enough they fall back into their usual routine of dates, dinners, soirées, dances and outings. His mannerism falls very flat every now and then, and she wonders how much of it is rehearsed and how much is genuine. Whatever the answer is, he could have asked her the same thing weeks ago, and it would've been the same. But neither of them minds it.

Eventually, she asks him how much does he actually care about the Neath, and London, and everything in general. Oh, he's very interested, especially about the everything in general, he says. The Neath holds much more everything than he thought possible, and it has been truly marvellous to figure it out so far. There are so many things to figure out, and he's interested in every single one of them. But, at the present time, what he truly cares about, the most marvellously intriguing thing to figure out is if she would be amenable to meet again tomorrow? Maybe at Dante’s? She would love to.

[adambja]

It's a quit a long post so in sorry for that and I'm not a native English speaker so please pardon my mistakes......

Hey girl , I have a question and it's not related to aff tapes but I want to ask you this question to know your opinion and hope you give me a solution and guide me on this ..... So

To be very honest i manifest so many things in my life ,

I even shift one time ,

Enter in void state also by doing psych k method i think after 2 and half day ,

Even get results by practising living in the present moment ,

Even I get results from your free tapes.

I'm telling you to know I get results and not telling lie and things that i manifest , good friends to good grades to pass in exams or even allow to sit in exams even after not going clg entire year 😅 and for all this I have all my desires so smoothly even just my laptop have internet when whole hostel don't have and so many more fun things and all......

As for live in the present moment - In my check up I diagnosed diabetic but through live in the present moment I heal myself and when I do next day check up I'm completely healthy...

As for your tape come on girl ... There are so many , don't know where to start 🤣🤣🤣 ....anyways so many things

But my main problem is whenever I tell , share my success stories to anyone it stops happening 😭😭😭 I don't believe in it before but i shift and I tell a friend about it till now I don't shift , it's like 2 yrs now ....

Tell my void success story even just as an anon but still after that I didn't enter in void ....

After telling your aff tape success story I start having more doubts or even sometimes I can't even listen to your tape because people district me or start talking to me and want me to answer them but i prefer to listen to it calmly and be alone , all the symptoms i feel suddenly gone .....

After sharing my present moment success story I don't see any results till now .... Not even with the psych method....

At first i just thought that I don't do it properly or maybe I tell my success story to someone who is a negative person and can't understand all of this law and all so it's effect my process because I'm not perfect in it ( it's a wrong and limiting belief ) ...So i decided if i want to tell someone my success story or tell someone my journey I'll just tell it to people who is like me ... So in the community..... But even after telling people like me ( who believe in loa , manifestation and all ) I still get stuck ..... And I tell my success stories to people who help me and to help others but what now ...... Today i suddenly see all things .......

So what should I do to overcome ...😭😭😭

Thank you for taking your time to read ..... I'm sorry again...

I saw some people on here and twitter having the same issue lmao 😭😭

It's just you are making yourself stuck due to your self-concept you keep putting yourself in a maze and confusion due to your self-concept and it's not about my tape at all BUT I AM GLAD MY TAPES MADE YOU COME HERE AND ASK FOR A SOLUTION 😭!!! BECAUSE YOU KNOW NOW THERE IS A WEIRD THING HAPPENING AND THIS IS one of the benefits in the tape your subconscious mind literally lets you know what is the issue and the assumptions you have to change that's why some people experienced some negativity while listening to the tapes NOT EVERYONE THEY ARE LITERALLY 3 PEOPLE GUYS!!

Anyways let's get deeper into this!

So look you got that belief from someone as if it's like if you say your goals or your success stories they can be jinxed and whatever this is

THE FEELING YOU ARE DEALING WITH HERE IS "FEAR" YOU ARE JUST SCARED OF IT and it's okay your feelings are valid but jinxing isn't even real because nobody is real 😭😭 because THE REALITY ITSELF ISN'T REAL SO YOU ARE LITERALLY SAFE

How to solve this?

Affirm

"I am safe"

"I am comfortable"

"I am safe saying my success stories to everyone"

"I am comfortable saying my success stories to everyone"

Also congrats on your success stories with my tapes hehehe 🤭🫶🏻 I know you will have more after this

[huellitaa]

ྀི ୨ embarrassment ୧ ྀི

...is a social construct designed to make us feel bad by those who cant handle their own mistakes & or shortcomings.

seriously. like. it baffles me how people are still living in the mindset where they let embarrassment become anything more for them than a concept.

୨୧ embarrassment

- a feeling of self-consciousness, shame, or awkwardness.

embarrassment is perfectly normal. it happens to everyone because we all make mistakes. but some people let embarrassment and the fear of embarrassment consume them and the choices they make far too much, far too often.

♡ which leads me onto my first point; it is completely normal. everybody makes mistakes. this is our first time in this life and we are all learning & growing with our every choice, every action, every decision <3 remember that the next time youre panicking and freaking out because you made a mistake.

♡ its never that deep. i like to try be gentle w this stuff but lemme tell u straight no one actually cares . im serious,, like babes no one gives a shit honestly 😭😭 and your mentality should be the same. people remember this stuff n laugh for 5 mins and then theyre back to their life. and if they hang on to it for longer then theyre the one who should be embarrassed.. get a life pls??

♡ similar to what i said a moment ago , its. never. that. deep. laugh it off !!!!! giggle !!!!!! laugh about it !!!!!!!! nobody cares !!!!!! this shows that it doesnt faze you and this shows how confident you are within yourself that you dont let silly little mistakes bother you because they do not matter.

♡ when it comes to your interests, please never be embarrassed about these. this is something ive struggled with since i was little but never never never be embarassed of the things that bring you joy. if they arent hurting anyone and are perfectly okay you should never be embarrassed ab that. it makes you happy. why should you be ashamed of that for someone else???🩷

♡ has someone ever said something to you? made u doubt urself? then you get embarrassed ab it???? dont. do not even go there. i ws so insecure before (i know😭😭) and couldnt hold a single opinion for myself but when you know who tf you are you wont be doubting yourself for anyone ml.

♡ so... you wanna pursue your dreams but ur too embarrassed. ur too embarrassed and worried "what if this doesnt work" "what if it doesnt happen" n whatever other dumb shit ur worried abt and scared to outgrow your surroundings and evolve. wow. you know how silly that sounds? so.. like.. let me get this straight... youre telling me... that youre not doing what you love... for the sake of someone else or some silly little doubts????wow. you get one life n youre doing that. GET IT TOGETHER BABES. GET REAL. WHY WOULD U SABOTAGE URSELF LIKE THAT????? YOURE WORTH SO MUCH MORE THAN THAT LIKE 😭😭🩷🩷🩷🩷

♡ understand that peoples perceptions of you are often reflections of themselves just like your perceptions of others are often reflections of yourself. they think its embarrassing because they know for a fact deep down that theyd be too embarrassed and self conscious to do it themselves.

♡ and then watch the way they'll all come crawling back apologising and grovelling the moment you're rich and successful and got everything you ever wanted.. all because you had the confidence to trust in yourself and pursue what you wanted without listening to their self doubts. <3

♡ reverse psychology. "why r u doing that" "thats so cringey" why r u so wrapped up in my business? thats so cringey

♡ overall, confidence, strong self concept & trusting in your ability to bounce back from anything are the three main things that will never let you wallow in this silly little emotion again. embarrassment is like a pitiful, more insignificant, ridiculous version of fear. if ur gonna be scared then b scared of something worth ur time babe ur more than that <33

[justasunflowerseed]

I have so many ideas for a creative project that I don't know where to start, like my brain keeps coming up with ideas and concepts and stops halfway when it gets to actually writing it down and trying, so....

PLEASE HELP ME CHOOSE WHAT PROJECT TO WORK ON 🙏

I will start to actively work on whatever wins the poll, and will constantly update every weekend on my blog, I can't promise any quality or fast progression, some of these are projects in areas I have 0 experience in, so just vote for whatever you think sounds the most interesting ig, but please vote so I'll have something to do!

I don't have a preference for any of these, that's why I'm asking tumblr!

no results option, choose something, please I have no idea what to do

if any of these sound interesting or confusing, there are explanations under the cut:

~•°•~.~•°•~.~•°•~

JEWISH MINECRAFT

either a client side mod or a plugin for Minecraft server that add Jewish elements to the game, main concept I have thought of:

kashrut laws, the mod will keep track of the kashrut of you, your tools, and your food (meat/dairy/parveh/non-kosher). for example: your sword starts as kosher parveh. you kill a cow - your sword is now kosher for meat and you have a kosher raw meat. you then kill a pig with the sword, your sword is now not kosher and you have a non-kosher raw pig meat. you then kill a cow with the sword, you have a non-kosher raw meat. you cook and eat the kosher meat, you get a kosher(meat) status for 3 in-game hours, you then drink a bucket of milk, the status changes to not-kosher. idk how to make your tools kosher again yet.

a tracker of in-game Minecraft days, whenever it gets to the evening of every 6/7 days (friday evening), Shabbat will start, indicated by some sort of pop-up. using any of your tools on shabbat will turn them non-kosher, villager trading will either be turned off or there will be a warning not to trade with them, and same thing with every working station + crafting table. building and breaking blocks with your hands is allowed, so will crafting from your inventory (unless it's food), farming will cause the resulting crops to not be kosher. Shabbat will end at nightfall of the 7th day.

my experience: Ive never made a Minecraft mod before, but I have experience programming in Java, so it can't be that hard to to at least some of these.

TIME LOOP GAME

a mystery game where you relive the same day over and over again, with no information saved between runs except the player's understanding of the world. the goal is to find out what causes the time loop and break it. loosly inspired by kindergarten, undertale, and a certain b movie that I don't know the name of.

I don't know how to explain the visuals I'm imagining, but it will be a mostly 2d plane you walk on, and interacting with NPCs will open a virtual novel type screen.

you'll have a "clock" at the top left corner, each action during the day will cost a certain amount of time (a few minutes to a few hours), the game will be balanced to give plenty of rooms for mistakes as to not make it stressful, and since every time loop is the exact same, making a mistake will only send you to the start of the day, where you can attempt the same thing again. (and if there are repetitive aspects like idk mini games there would probably be an option to skip them if you already completed it in a previous loop, that's the only thing the game will keep track of ig)

there's only so much you can do it one day, and certain things will require the player to possess information from previous loops, and so runs will differ and evolve as time goes on, there will also be bonus "routes" to learn more about the world and the characters in it.

idk what the mystery is yet! the story is very early stages.

my experience: I have no fucking clue how to use unity, I made a flappy bird and a platformer without levels, but I still haven't fogured out how OOP works with this thing, andy brain can't figure out how tf you make stuff like dialogue. it would probably take me a long time to make a working prototype.

UNDERTALE TIME LOOP FANGAME

this is THE EXACT SAME PROJECT AS THE ABOVE ONE, but as an Undertale fangame instead of an original story. and I do have a concept for this one!

you play as Frisk in the pacifist ending (NOT after a genocide route, pure pacifist with potentially multiple neutrals) (also not as the player controlling Frisk), living out your happy ending. it's been a few years, you've grown, humanity mostly accepted monsters, and the underground is mostly abandoned as monsters moved to the surface. You've lost your powers a long time ago, not that anyone knows about them, and you have no reason to use them again anyway, you have everything you've ever wanted. but one thing is missing: Flowey.

his determination has been deteriorating over the past few months, and it's gotten harder and harder for him to move. he started spending all his time at Chara's grave in the underground, and you visit him once in a while.

the game is during his final day, you find out, the last bits of determination leave his body and he turns back into a regular flower. but you're determined to save him, and so, your powers return, and you're able to go back in time to the start of the day, and start reliving it over and over, looking for a way to save him. a happy ending means for everyone.

it might be a bit more story heavy, it might even have Frisk being an actual character as they're free from the player's control, but it's the same concept and same mechanics.

my experience: same limitations as making an original game, but I also don't know how good I'd be at keeping the characters in-character for this.

ROTTMNT AU COMIC

this is a project I've already started on my shared tmnt sideblog with @remitiras. it only has 1 post! 😭

I have the second part halfway done on my computer, but I didn't like the writing for parts of it and couldn't find the motivation to properly rewrite it yet, so it's been on hiatus for 4-5 months.

I made the concept while having a hyperfixation on rottmnt, and Cass Apocalyptic Series specifically. since then I've moved on and I'm not as invested in the fandom or the story, but it's still something I wanna finish someday. it has a mostly finished outline, and a large collection of plot ideas, it's one of my most detailed creative projects to date! this would be a good practice for making comics and stories.

my experience: again, it already has a chapter, although pretty ugly in hindsight, the wip second chapter has a much better panel layout. I've never made a real comic before, but me and reminhave a pretty good grasp of the rottmnt characters and they're kinda helping me write it.

CARTOON CONCEPT FROM WHEN I WAS 12

despite having the idea for 8 years, I can't for the life of me decide on a name for it. lmao. the concept is as follows:

do you know these stories where the main character is living a normal and sad life until they find out their word actually has some sort of magic and an entire society of magic people living (mostly) in secret from regular humans? Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, Gravity Falls, Danny Phantom, Fairly OddParents, I can't think of any other examples rn. these usually (but not always) accompany a chosen one plot of the regular person finding out or growing to be the savior of the group.

now what if, multiple of these stories happened at the same time, in the same world, to all of your best friends?

that's the concept of my story! in it, the main character, Sapphire, moves to a new small town, and slowly finds out each one of her new friends are the main character of their own magical/paranormal journey.

I have uploaded some concept art to my blog already: one, two, three.

if this win, I will not make it into a full fledged indie cartoon bye myself (lol)

rather, I will write down all of my ideas and make more concept art, for characters and scenes. and will share it on my blog.

my experience: this is mostly just writing down preexisting ideas I never had time to write before, and drawing concepts I didn't have the motivation for. so I have the experience for this.

COMIC OF CHARACTER TRAPPED IN A MAGICAL LIBRARY

this is a comic I planned for practice! it's a comedy with simple colors and backgrounds so it's prerfect for practicing my comedy skills and writing episodic one-shot content. this time it has a name!

Endless Library:

the character wakes up to find herself in a library, but the bookshelves strech on to the horison and the books seem to be about the most random and wild things ever. there's no exit in sight. join in as she slowly goes insane and starts consuming the paper for substance, I swear it's not a horror story!

I already have 2.5 episodes drawn, it's a very simplified artstyle, and the background is super simple, it really got me to experiment with perspective. I keep picking it up for a week or so once every few months and I haven't touched it in almost a year, so I don't really remember more than the general plot. it will probably have ~100 short episodes? I still didn't figure out the ending.

my experience: I got a lot of indifferent to good reactions to my first chapter! so this will probably be the easiest to finish as long as I have the motivation, I also don't have to worry about experience with comics because the style is super simple.

PERSONAL PROJECTS

projects that won't be able to be shared with othwrs online :( they're fun and all but I'd just feel like they'll be a waste of time. these include:

making a hub on a new Minecraft server I joined, including multiple farms and a shared storage system. It just started so I still haven't logged in.

finishing my base on another Minecraft server, I like it hut I'm 50% of the active players.

making cute coasters for my apartment, and prettifying my apartment in general.

writing cringe low-effort fanfics for my eyes only, I will never ever share them sorry

drawing regular fanart

choosing one doesn't mean I won't do the others at all! it's just what I should focus on during my limited free time. right now I'm at a point where I can't focus on any project at all because I feel guilty ignoring the others.

also if you actually read all of this I'm sending you virtual hugs, thank you so much for actually taking interest in my unhinged ramblings 💗✨