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passivenovember · 26 days

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Steve's never tried a weed brownie before.

Hasn't really wanted to, if he's honest, because the rag-weed shit he gets from Tommy all throughout high school is fine. Even though it's mostly shake and stems and seeds, and the bag Tommy puts it in always looks like it's been mauled by Scotty, his 15 year old schnauzer.

It has to be the same bag, Steve thinks, but maybe that's the 20 minute high talking.

So he's never tried a brownie.

But. Billy Hargrove comes into his life like a storm cloud. Black and gray with impending doom, snagging the air around him with little fish weights until everything is heavy. At first.

But. Then Steve makes him laugh once during a game of shirts and skins, and. It's like the belly of the thing has ripped open, y'know, and the streets of the thing flood with rainwater, and all that existed before is washed down some swallowing, insatiable gutter along with mulch and twigs and the shaky belief that Steve's straight.

They're friends and Steve watches Billy laugh and smile, feels all ten fingers against his chest when Billy shoves him, some sort of atomical reaction to Steve making him laugh, and.

Steve can't believe he ever thought Heaven was in Nancy Wheeler's pants.

So.

Billy Hargrove is the Earth after the flood, and the ark carrying everyone to safety. He's the animals inside and the God that sits, watching the world swallow itself.

He feeds things, to Steve.

Lines. You got a really pretty mouth, Harrington. You're smart, you know that? Not. Book smart, but street smart. Dirt road intelligent, I guess, in this shitty fuckin' Hickville hellscape--

Feeds Steve art. That's Samuel Baruch. He's my favorite. Look how he paints cloth, how he tracks the divets and the folds and the shadows. It's like a photo. It's like a window--

Steve makes Billy laugh when he says, "That lady kind of looks like you." Feels all ten fingers on his arm, pushing, when he says, "You'd look cute in a bonnet." Steve nearly falls over. Almost goes easy, but he doesn't.

Billy grabs him. Holds him as he smirks, "Where the fuck would I find a bonnet?"

Steve looks around the art hall, eyes wide and owlish, "Indiana?" He says, out there. In here. And.

Billy stares at him. He's the canvas and the lady in her bonnet, the divets and the folds and the shadows, the artist himself when he wets his thumb and sticks it in Steve's ear. "Dumbass," He says.

Steve finally gets everyone's thing about art.

He snaps a mental image of the afternoon and tries not to smother it in his hands.

So.

Steve. His eyes open, bit by bit. And what he finds is blinding. Like he fell asleep in the back of his mother's station wagon and awoke to the screaming light of high noon.

Billy's like the sun, longer Steve knows him. Storm clouds be damned.

Like. He talks about art. And he feeds lines and compliments for shits and giggles, never really noticing that Steve falls for it, a dumb catfish stuck on Billy's sharp, unforgiving hook.

He does all that but he smokes. Weed and cigarettes. He drinks.

He takes Steve to parties and says, "Ever try this before, Bambi?" But it's just Jack Daniels. But. Billy leaning with his elbow on the wall next to Steve's neck, close enough that he can smell Billy's sweat and cologne. He's smiling and his lips are cherry red, rio red, and.

He wants to roll in it.

So. He says, "No," Because, "I haven't."

It's the truth.

So Billy feeds it to him right out of the bottle. Makes him get on his knees. Slaps Steve's wrists away when he tries to hold the vessel himself, because.

Something's happening. Here. There.

Steve stares up at Billy through his eyelashes, trying not to go blind.

He blacks out and wakes up in the face of some bitch in a red bikini.

He's still drunk, so it takes him longer than it should to realize she's a poster tacked to somebody's, and he's not at home, and someone's snoring on the rug next to him.

Steve wiggles his toes. Fingers. Tries to remember what happened after Billy's hair caught the dining room lamplight but it's all a blur of sea stone eyes and bright white teeth and all ten fingers, rubbing at him while he threw up under the four way stop on Douglas Street.

Steve groans.

He rolls onto his side and tucks into himself and falls asleep, hoping Billy got home okay.

It's silver when a warm, flat palm shakes him alive. "You gotta go," Someone says, their voice rough like flannel bed sheets.

Steve blinks up, into the silver light, and sees Billy. Considers padding from the mattress to sleep inside of Billy's throat, where he'll be warm. It's a familiar urge. It's entirely new.

Steve aches. "What time--"

"--Just before five. My dad gets up early for work," Billy says, like that's supposed to mean castles are crumbing in their kingdom, but he's staring at something on Steve' face.

Really puts things into perspective, because maybe it's supposed to be an emergency. The first wisps of smoke from a forest fire, but Billy has bed head. And pillow lines on his face. And he's looking at Steve like there's something stuck in his throat.

Steve rubs at himself, trying to clear exhaustion and embarrassment. Really, just rubbing it into himself like lotion. "It's Saturday." He says.

"We're poor," Billy tells him, "My dad--"

"Where am I?"

Billy stares at him for a moment and then chuckles, shaking his head, "With me," He mutters.

Steve wants to curl into it like a cat.

He's rushed out of the room. He has to climb through the window while Billy keeps watch like a guard dog, and Steve lands on his ankle funny so it isn't until later when he's showered and hung over and falling onto his own mattress that he realizes Billy was in a panic.

That was Billy panicking, like Steve gets when his dad tells him to clean his room before he gets home from work, but Steve was full of concrete and wouldn't do it. Just like that, but worse.

Steve tosses and turns and tries to decipher what there was to be panicked about. Billy's room was clean.

Not just clean but spotless, like someone took a billow pad soaked in bleach and scrubbed every wall and baseboard until nothing remained except that bitch in her red bikini.

The only witness to Steve crawling out through an open window.

The more he thinks about it the more it feels like an episode of The Twilight Zone.

He combs through the memory of waking up in Billy's room. He tries to piece together hazy, half-baked image of beige carpet and the bookshelf and the little makeshift vanity that housed all of Billy's hair products.

Steve searches for a spot of the boy he knows. He calls Samuel Baruch's name and hears it shatter against empty, maroon-colored walls and the bikini girl's airbrushed rack.

He tries to envision a wayward sock, left out in the cold. A cup of water on the bedside table. Used tissues on the bedsheets.

Anything.

Steve blinks around his own room and wonders if clutter is a luxury only afforded to boys in houses paid by Monday through Friday workweeks.

He tries to imagine Billy in that room inside the house on Cherry Lane, happy, sleeping until noon in his own boyhood nest while his father gets ready for work.

It sits heavy in Steve's chest. A fairytale.

So.

Billy asks him during homeroom on Monday if he's ever had a weed brownie. Really, he scribbles it on a note and has Mary Sandoval stick it under Steve's elbow on her way to the bathroom.

Steve presses the note open on his desk until it's delicately wrinkled, mulling the question over in his mind. He spent the weekend driving himself crazy trying to come up with a reason to invite Billy over, a nook to slip into so he can ask the hard questions.

This could be it.

Steve peeks over his shoulder, flushing pink when Billy wags his tongue.

He has a black eye.

Steve snaps like a piece of rotted driftwood. He turns back to the note and scribbles no, but I'll try one if you have it. Has Mary take it back with her.

Figures. Billy should see his room. Steve should open his eyes.

"Why does it smell like that?"

"Like what, pretty boy?"

"Like. Gasoline."

Billy tilts his head back, laughter shooting like fireworks against Steve's ceiling, "It's just the dope. It's how it smells when you bake it into the--"

"--I don't like it."

"Why not?"

"I just think brownies are supposed to smell like chocolate," Steve says, handing the bag over with a wrinkled nose, "It's not a very appetizing smell."

"It's just weed."

"Weed smells gross, too."

"You don't like weed?"

"No, I just--"

"--We don't have to do the edibles if you don't want--"

"--I want to," Steve tells him. "Please." Instead of I'd do anything you asked me to. You're the influence my grandma warned me about. You're the lighter and the cigarette and the smoke in my lungs. Getting me high.

Billy nods, "Since you asked so nicely," and severs the baggy, tearing the first brownie in half.

"Woah," Steve says, embarrassed, "I know I've never had one before but I think I can do more than half."

"They're strong."

"I'm strong too," Steve says. When Billy blinks at him, confused, Steve flexes.

The noise Billy makes is like a duck getting run over by a clown car. It reverberates off the walls and Steve aches to stand and chase it. "You can always start out small and take more if you need to, hot rod."

Steve crosses his arms over his chest. "How strong are they?"

Billy shrugs, fiddling with the chewed plastic lip of the bag. "I kissed a boy on half," He says.

It's the first time since Billy came to town that he won't stretch to meet Steve's gaze.

Steve takes the bag from him and shoves the brownie into his mouth, coughing over the dry exterior.

"Easy, man, easy," Billy smacks him between the shoulder blades, grinning and rubbing his back once Steve swallows.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #i had more to say and then i got bored #anyway #love ya

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asimplearchivist · 30 days

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The fervency with which i am churning out these sketches is startling tbh

Eliana would clock this poor girl's trauma a mile off. She would proceed to want to bring down the wrath of heaven upon all those that wronged her. Twig would have to talk her into reigning it back in a little since she has the uncanny ability to befriend everyone who treated her poorly lol. otherwise she would mother the fool out of Twig! that poor girl needs all the love she can get!

Similar to Dusknoir, she would be extremely wary of Ark at first—even more so, in fact. She wouldnt get close nor would she trust him until much later, likely after Twig would explain how hes changed. She'd sympathize him in the long run.

anyways i hope you like it @sincerely-sofie🥺I want to draw your Dusknoir too but im eepy atm, so keep an eye out for that!

#fisara's scrawlings #my art #pokemon #pokemon mystery dungeon #explorers of sky #leafeon #charmeleon #darkrai #comic #humor

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letmeinimafairy · 8 months

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Two arks and a new experiment - first attempt at making frost texture. Some kind of glitter, wood, twigs and a small flake of rust from garage's door.

#epoxy resin art #miniature #resin art #megalithic #neolithic #arc #door #keyhole #frost #standing stones #fantasy art #carving #craft #my art

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navia3000 · 2 months

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a l l t o o w e l l

Includes : Bellamy Blake

Genre : Angst, very little fluff

Warnings : Minimal use of Y/N, first person pov, mentions of fighting, mentions of praimfaya, not proofread

Based on : All Too Well by Taylor Swift

Wind in my hair, I was there, I was there

Y/N and Bellamy Blake had a complicated relationship from the start. From the moment the drop ship landed on Earth and Blake asserted his dominance over the 100, she despised him. He was arrogant, cocky, and rude.

However, Clarke Griffin, a close friend of hers, insisted on an “alliance” of sorts, claiming it was necessary for survival. And now, the girl has to bite her tongue as Clarke and Blake have become the leaders of the 100, the king and queen.

The 100 were currently working on building a wall around the campsite to help defend from the grounders. She had been helping put the walls up for hours, and was in desperate need of a break.

Even though she knew both Clarke and Bellamy would scorn her if they saw her, she snuck outside the camp and walked to a quiet meadow away from the chaos in the drop ship.

She sat on a log among the grass and flowers, breathing in the floral and earthy scents. She couldn’t help but look back on her time on the Ark and its stale, metallic scent. She was glad that she was among the few people to come back to Earth. She used to dream of feeling the blades of grass tickle the palms of her hands, the flower petals caressing her nose and cheeks, the scent of dirt and trees and leaves and greenery blessing her scent buds.

The snap of a twig brought her out of her nostalgic thoughts, defenses coming up immediately in fear of a Grounder. She didn’t think to bring a weapon with her, being in desperate need of a break.

She turned to find not a Grounder, but Bellamy Blake stalking towards her, a stern look on his face. “What are you doing out here?” He sounded angry.

It was her turn to scowl. “I’m taking a break, what are you doing?”

“I saw you sneak off. Are you insane? There are Grounders out here, and you didn’t even tell anyone you were leaving.”

“Jeez, Blake, I’m only a couple minutes away from camp. Plus, what do you care if a Grounder gets me?”

He seemed taken aback by her question. After a few seconds of silence, he finally spoke. “Of course I care. Keeping you guys safe is my responsibility.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.” They stared at each other for what felt like eons, until she patted the space next to her, inviting him to sit. Maybe it was the serene atmosphere that made her extend an invitation, or maybe it was the fact that she was tired of the constant battle between her and Bellamy. They were like ice and liquor, like water and vinegar.

He hesitated for a moment before moving to sit with her. The pair sat in silence, taking in the view in front of them. Maybe being in each other’s company wasn’t so bad.

Down the stairs, I was there, I was there

“Where is he?” She was frantic, eyes scanning the drop ship for Bellamy. Murphy had come back from being tortured by the Grounders, bringing an infectious illness along with him. They had spent hours taking care of the sick delinquents, when the girl had been told about Bellamy getting sick. Her and Bellamy had reached a sort of stalemate after their “moment” in the meadow. They didn’t hate each other, but they didn’t like each other.

She lies to herself, because, she does like him. More than she wants to. And now, hearing he’s sick with this deadly disease made her regret all the times she had argued with him.

“He’s here,” Clarke pointed to a secluded corner in the ship, where she saw Octavia leaning over her brother, a wet rag to his forehead. “You shouldn’t be in here,” Clarke warned, but the girl didn’t listen. She rushed to Bellamy’s side, and her heart broke seeing his face contorted in pain.

She took the rag from Octavia’s hands, “go rest.” She watched as Octavia smiled appreciatively, and walked away.

As she put the rag to Bellamy’s forehead, she saw Bellamy’s eyes open and focus on her, his chocolate irises burning with concern. “What- what are you doing?” Bellamy choked out. “You’ll get sick.”

She shushed him, smiling sweetly, hoping to bring some sort of comfort to the sick man. “It’s okay. Just close your eyes.” He stared at her a little longer, before deciding to close his eyes, knowing she would stay by his side the whole night.

Sacred prayer, I was there, I was there

“She did it,” Octavia whispered. Clarke had finally pulled the lever, destroying the City of Light along with A.L.I.E. Bellamy and Octavia watch as their friends and the citizens of Polis snap out of their trance, being relieved from A.L.I.E’s hold.

Bellamy, however, was focused on one person. Y/N. The girl he hated and grew to love. His girl.

After their experience in Mount Weather, Bellamy and her’s relationship evolved, growing closer together.

Unfortunately for Bellamy, she was forced to take the Key, making her forget her happy memories with Bellamy, and turning her into A.L.I.E’s most trusted soldier.

She had been fighting Bellamy and Octavia, using the skills she learnt from Octavia and the Grounders. Bellamy didn’t want to fight her. He hated the thought of hurting her. But her pursuit against him was relentless, her punches hurting more and more.

They were close to killing each other, until Clarke ended it all.

He watched as she snapped out of whatever trance she was in. Her eyes were glazed over with confusion, but they cleared once they landed on his. At once, she launched herself into his arms. He held tightly onto her, relief flooding his body.

She pulled back to look him in the eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Bell,” she whispered. She pushed her lips onto his, letting the kiss speak the words she couldn’t say.

Bellamy kissed back with as much passion, feeling his crumpled heart straighten itself out again.

He was never going to let her go again.

It was rare, you remember it all too well

Bellamy watched down from the window of the ship, memories playing in his head like a film on a movie screen. However, this film wasn’t a happy one. This film was one of sadness, tragedy, betrayal. Bellamy regrets that moment every day of his life. He regrets the moment he had to leave his lover along with his best friend on Earth, abandoning them to radiation that would kill them.

If only things didn’t turn out this way. Bellamy lives every day in space plagued with dreams of what his life could’ve been. Of him being with her, hugging her, kissing her. Living a normal life. A life without Grounders, radiation, killer AI. A life where him and her could be happy. If only things were different.

If only the weren’t doomed from the start.

#the 100 #the 100 imagine #the 100 x reader #bellamy blake #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake imagine

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oblonger · 2 months

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@sincerely-sofie

Ark watches the sun set.

Ark silently sat next to Twig, holding her hand as she lay under her blanket, the worn out shawl she's owned for decades barely peeking out from underneath. The room was gently illuminated by the small, yellow-orange flame on the end of her tail. The two of them alone, per her requests.

After a long period of agonizing silence, Twig opened her eyes and shifted her head to look at Ark.

"Hey Ark?"

Ark turned to face her, it felt like his heart would rip itself apart whenever he looked at her.

"What is it Twig?" He asked, doing his best to suppress the shaking of his voice.

"Can I ask you for something?"

Ark felt like he already knew what she would ask. "I will not abandon you." He responded, sounding more desperate and grief ridden, than determined like he'd hoped.

Twig gave a small, weak chuckle. "No, I'm not gonna ask you to leave."

Ark felt deep regret at his reaction. "My apologies. What's your request?"

Twig slowly blinked at him, a smile spreading across her face. "It's fine, man. I know I promised, but I wanted to ask if you could put me to sleep. And we could watch the sunrise again."

Ark could feel his other hand shaking. "You will see the sunrise while you still yet live, Twig." Once more sounding more desperate than determined.

Twig very slightly tilted her head. Her smile radiating a warmth that he cherished so much. "Ark..."

He could feel his emotions being torn apart. "I dont... I dont want you to have a nightmare."

Twig weakly chuckled again. "I'm not gonna let some nightmare do me in, Ark."

He wanted to deny her the chance at being uncomfortable, but her expression and the unchanging color of the flame showed him that she wasn't worried in the slightest.

Ark obliged, gently putting her to sleep. His heart pounded as her tail flame gently flickered while it changed from yellow-orange to white.

After being certain that she wasn't in any danger, he closed his eyes to enter her dream.

His relief was indescribable when he saw that Twig wasnt in the flaming bunker, or in a mystery dungeon, or being crushed or anything.

She was sitting near the edge of one of the many cliffs of Mount Trevail, the mountain's forest a short walk away from where she was. She stared out into the horizon while the sun shone down from the middle of the sky. She turned her head to face Ark once he appeared and smiled fondly.

"Took you long enough." She gently remarked.

Ark wanted to laugh, not at her joke, but at just how she was still her, despite the current circumstances. Ark silently moved next to where she was sitting, and lowered himself to the ground. Changing the sun's position to that of just peeking above the horizon.

The two stayed silent for a while.

"Finding you was the best thing that ever happened to me." Twig spoke. Ark glanced at her scar before nodding. "The feeling is mutual."

Ark didnt watch the sunrise. He was watching Twig from the corner of his eyes. His heart sank when Twig's expression suddenly fell.

"I thought I asked for a sunrise, Ark?"

It was too overwhelming. Ark rushed forward and wrapped his arms around her. Twig seemed surprised, not at him hugging her so suddenly, but that it took this long for him to do so.

Ark took in a breath that shook intensly. "I-... I can't do it Twig. I don't-." Ark could feel tears streaming down his face. He hyperventilated whenever he wasn't saying anything "I-I can't do it. I ca-an't be alone h-h-h- Again."

Twig wrapped her arms around him as he wet her chest with tears.

"Shhhhh." She gently rubbed the back of his head. "You wont be alone. It'll be okay."

Ark squeezed her tighter, he wanted her closer to him.

"Twig. I'm-. I'm so scared Twig. I don't-. I don't know wh-what I'll do with-... I dont know wh-at i'll do without you."

Twig lowered her neck to rest on Ark's shoulders. "You'll keep going." She quietly responded.

Ark tightened his grip again. He let out a sob that was louder than all the others.

"Th-theres still time, Twig. h-h- Cresselia-..." Ark's voice cracked. He couldnt force the rest out.

Twig gave a small sigh. No trace of disappointment, sadness, fear or anger.

"I know Ark. But I don't want to. It's going to be okay."

The dream started to shift in a way that was unfamiliar to him.

Ark tried so hard to say something more. He wanted to apologize for being such a burden in her final hours. He wanted to tell her how much he misses her. He wanted to scream and cry and wail about just how much he loves her.

But he couldn't. Everything he tried saying came out as sputtered half words and sobs. After a moment, Twig gave a small chuckle.

"I love you more than words can describe too, Ark."

The landscape around them was being cast in a shadowy haze.

Ark didnt want to let go.

He didn't want to let go.

He so badly wanted to stay with her forever.

Ark's eyes shot open. His face, soaked with tears, his arms wrapped around his chest, hugging himself. He was back in Twig's room. The only light shining from the waxing crescent moon. He looked up to see Twig, resting peacefully. The only movement she made was the thin strand of smoke rising from her extinguished tail.

Ark fell forward and clutched her desperately. The only sound in the room being quiet sobbing.

#fanfic of a fanfic #text post #the present is a gift au #pmd eos #writing #pmd #I've been fortunate enough to not having to deal with the death of someone i love so far.#Ark's emotions were based on how i feel thinking of when i will eventually have to face those feelings.#plus a little bit of what he fears as well.

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s1nn0hh · 4 months

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In Which Ark And Celebi Have A Chat

(The latest chapter of TPiaG had me really liking those conversation bits with ms. onion fairy and arky so here's another one-off fic starring these dastardly two. The Present is a Gift belongs to @sincerely-sofie)

The Future Trio decided to pay Twig a visit. Mainly to check out if she's been doing alright, and to bring her some of the food that Dusknoir made back home.

Celebi, being the energetic and tireless little onion she was, decided to check out the area near Verdant Village and spotted a forest nearby. She chose to bring Ark along for the walk, with the Pitch Black Pokemon choosing to tag along to breath some much needed air and to avoid the death glares from a certain grass type and a certain ghost type.

During their walk, the two conversed about various Mythical matters, nothing too important or zany.

"So you're telling me that you've met a Pokemon that claimed to 'be from space', who can also regenerate from every hit that is inflicted upon him?" Ark said, rather confused and a bit of hesitation in his tone as he was unsure if he should take Celebi's take wholeheartedly.

"Uh huh! He has a sick gem in his chest, and he can also 'change forms' as he called it! He was so cool, honestly! He also had a run in with that big dragon guy that lives reeeeally high up! Raycrocza, or whatever his name was. Me personally, I could also take on that guy, but I'd rather not have Grovyle and Dusknoir worried about me." Celebi explained ecstatically, being sure to fill Ark with every detail about her newest friend in a heartbeat.

"He certainly sounds peculiar. Didn't think I'd be possible to know someone from the worlds beyond." Ark nodded as he listened to Celebi's words carefully.

"Actually, speaking of Grovyle, what did you two talk about a few days ago? Grovyle still looks a bit shaken up from it. He insists that he's fine, but I know him long enough to know." Celebi asked, curiosity present in her tone as Ark Ark could only frown after having to remember that talk after hoping that he'd never have to bring it up again.

"Nothing too serious," Ark sighed heavily after having to muster up the courage to recollect their little conversation, much to his delight. "He only told me about how much he isn't rather happy because of my presence here, and that if I were to hurt Twig, he will personally put the "mortals can't kill legends" myth to the test and make sure that I die, slowly. I told him that he was welcome to try, and we went our own ways." Ark rolled his eyes at that last part, not trying to pay much attention to pay too much attention to Grovyle's threat. He glanced over to Celebi to see what her reaction was, and while she was silent for a moment, she nearly burst into laughter when he finished speaking.

"OHOHOHOHOHOHO! That's my darling Grovyle, alright! I'd have to warn you, he definitely have the strength to back up that claim!" Celebi happily spoke as she wiped the tears of joy off, leaving Ark a bit confused by her reaction.

"Well, he can put that strength back to his leaves if he wants. I have no intention of hurting Twig, that much I am sure of." Ark spoke sternly and seriously as he maintained eye contact with Celebi. Although something stirred inside him a bit, and since he was already at it, he may as well ask away.

"Actually, Celebi.. I have something to ask you, too."

"Oh, ask away! What is it?"

"How did Grovyle even meet Twig in the first place?"

Celebi was silent for a moment. While she definitely knew the answer to the question, it would be a rather bad move to disclose it with anyone, much less with the same Pokemon that traumatized Twig and wanted to plunge the world into darkness. Regardless, she knew of a way to share just about enough, while leaving out the 'unimportant parts'.

"Well, I don't remember it clearly, but I'll try my best. Basically, when he first came across her, Twig was all alone. No friends, no family, nothing. Grovyle took her along with him, and the two eventually became friends, and sooner or later, they saw each other as a family. She was his little fire breathing sister, and he was her weird big grass lizard brother who had the back posture of a shrimp. It was a bit beautiful, honestly." Celebi explained just how the two matter to one another, regardless of how much one of them thinks they've strained the friendship with the other, and Ark's expression changed to a rather sad and somber one as he took in her words.

"Why'd you ask, anyway?"

Ark sighed heavily yet again, not feeling very content with what he'll have to say. "I can't believe that I'm saying it out loud, but I wanted to see things from Grovyle's perspective. I care about Twig just as much as he does, but I suppose that rarely even matters when he was with her from a young age whereas I am only the major inconvenience that makes her so scared and afraid." Ark lowered his head in shame as the words that he spoke could only echo through his head and taunting him while they were at it. Celebi saw this unfold, and sought to help her friend out.

"Now now, darling. Being hard and heavy on yourself never works. I know that it's hard knowing that Twig doesn't see how much you care about her, but do you remember how you said you appreciated it that she talked to you or rather rambled about those Team Skull bullies that really annoyed her? That was a sign that she trusts you, and that she slowly but surely comes around to get around your presence rather than fearing it altogether. All you to do is be there when she needs you, and she will get used to you overtime." Celebi explained, feeling a bit odd that she was explaining this to Darkrai of all people, but it had to be said nonetheless. Ark raised his head to meet eyes with her as he breathed in and out to try and relax himself.

".. Do you think it'll happen eventually?" Ark asked, gathering up some confidence to try and heed Celebi's enthusiasm and encouragement.

"I don't think so. I believe so!" Celebi enthusiastically exclaimed, and with some newfound encouragement gathered, Ark managed to be more collected and calm. Perhaps Celebi wasn't wrong, and all he needs to do now is try and be a good friend, even if the road ahead can be tedious.

The sun slowly set, and it was time for the duo to head home before Grovyle and Dusknoir will freak out and assume that the worst has happened. During the walk home, Ark thought near and dear to Celebi's words, and he decided to follow them carefully. In that moment, Ark felt momentarily peace in his heart.

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tribbetherium · 10 months

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'The aftermath of a storm. A devastating tropical cyclone had ravaged a small island off the coast of Arcuterra, leaving debris of trees, plants and floating mats of soil adrift in the open sea, bobbing amidst the waves at the mercy of the winds and currents. Yet, even in this scene of destruction, there is life--and the hope of rebirth. Among the tangled branches drifting out at sea are tiny, hardy and perhaps unlikely pioneers: a pair of small rattiles but a few centimeters long, clinging upon the twigs for dear life on a lifeboat many miles away from dry land, kept alive by fresh water brought by rain, and various miniscule invertebrates that cling onto their precious raft as a welcome meal for the hungry travelers. Elsewhere, around their miniature ark, other debris float alongside, perhaps with tiny passengers of their own. If they are fortunate, the rafts may, in time, come to rest on a suitable spot of land: bringing new life into a new frontier, that in time holds the potential to give rise to new species.'

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#speculative evolution #speculative biology #spec evo #speculative zoology #hamster's paradise #art one shot

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billycorn · 1 month

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In Which Twig Speaks to an Old Friend

“I’m sorry.”

Twig’s brows furrowed and she glanced about, but she couldn’t find anything unusual in the warm light of day. Sitting in her garden, feeling the warm sun upon her scales, she closed her eyes and listened a moment longer, but the voice didn’t return.

“Twig?”

Her eyes jolted open, and Twig’s wide-eyed gaze turned upon her friend. Celebi shook her head, a knowing smile on her face, and continued running a long fine brush over Twig’s claws.

“I was asking,” Celebi said slowly, “what you think of this colour?”

Twig huffed a quiet laugh. “It’s a bit late, isn’t it?”

“Not for me,” Celebi answered with a wink.

Celebi drifted backwards, her arms crossed proudly, and chin tilted in a smirk. Twig raised her claws and couldn’t help but smile. She’d been sceptical when Celebi suggested they paint her claws, but it had come out rather nicely. They had debated over it for some time, quickly deciding red would be unsettling, and that a shade of black which matched Ark wasn’t quite right, either. Instead, they’d settled on an opalescent sort of nail polish, one that shimmered in the light, making her claws nearly sparkle like a gemstone. Twig couldn’t help but think it was a bit much, but seeing Celebi’s eagerness and promises of how good it would look, she couldn’t bring herself to refuse.

“Thanks, Celebi.”

“It’s my pleasure, dear! As soon as it’s dry, get started.”

“On what?” Twig asked, her head tilting.

Celebi dramatically flicked her head and settled on the ground in front of Twig, facing away from her.

“On painting my wings, of course!”

Twig recoiled, a snort escaping her. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Twig, darling, all my ideas are good ideas.”

“What about when you-”

“Don’t!” Celebi screamed, jumping away, and whipping around. “Don’t you dare say it!”

Twig doubled over in laughter, clenching at her gut. “You turned Grovyle back into a Treecko because you were startled! I didn’t think that was possible.”

Celebi rolled her eyes, arms crossed. “Turning time back on someone like that does take an inordinate amount of energy, but it’s not impossible! Though, it was a while before I had enough energy to change him back again.”

Finally bringing her laughter under control, Twig carefully wiped a stray tear from her eye, her nostrils burning with the scent of the nail polish. “No, I meant, I didn’t think you could be surprised.”

“Oh, well, a little surprise is nice sometimes.”

Twig nodded and the two fell into a comfortable silence, watching the clouds drift by, though Twig shivered when a breeze flowed through the garden, and the long shadows cast by the clouds were a little chilly.

There was something else odd too, but she couldn’t quite place it. In the shadows at the edge of her vision, something danced, just out of reach. It wasn’t the comforting noise that Ark’s shadow carried; it was quiet, practically whispering in ear, and though familiar, it felt completely different than Ark’s presence.

“It’s been nice,” Celebi said, shattering the silence like glass. “Spending more time together. Twig, I love you. Don’t you forget it.”

Smiling, Twig swallowed past the lump in her throat and allowed herself a moment to let the weight of it sink in, like a ball of warmth in her chest, and suddenly the day didn’t seem as cold. “I love you, too.”

“Enough to paint my wings?”

Laughter burst forth and Twig shook her head. “I’m still not sure this is a-”

“Oh, it’ll be fine, just a light coating to make me extra sparkly!”

The day dragged on, peaceful and slow. Celebi left and eventually, Ark returned from whatever he’d been doing, a new blanket for Twig bundled in his arms. After sharing a meal, Ark had tied the blanket around her neck like a cape and pronounced her his ‘super wife!’

She had called him a dork, helped with the dishes, and they’d settled on the couch, Twig leaning into Ark’s embrace and talking excitedly about her day. Ark listened with rapt attention, offering the occasional comment or groan at Celebi’s antics, and when Twig had nothing left to say, Ark shared his adventures from the day, and it was simple, and cozy, and perfect.

So, the days passed, Twig’s garden flourished, and her sketchbook was filled to bursting; she would have to get a new one soon. Still, every now and then, Twig would hear things on the wind, mumbled apologies, and earnest declarations. Yet, whenever she looked, no one was there.

Though, was it possibly she simply wasn’t looking hard enough? Perhaps, she already knew what she might find. Maybe the idea scared her, and honestly, who could blame her? Well, she could blame herself. After all, hearing voices, jumping at shadows, being afraid of nothing at all, was just silly. It was ridiculous, completely illogical, something she might’ve done in the past, but no more.

Yet, that thought made Twig freeze.

Immediately her mind began to race, telling her she was being absurd, that she was worrying over nothing, how if she kept up like this, she would only make herself a burden upon those she loved.

Like trains gone off the rails, her thoughts raced wildly, unable to stop and just barely avoiding crashing into each other. Any longer and there would be a collision and everything would go wrong and she-

Her eyes widened, and looking down, Twig found herself running a gentle claw over the proposal band Ark had given her. Taking a deep breath, she felt the band beneath her hand, and everything seemed to slow, just a little bit.

Moving into her room, Twig pulled her journal from where she’d left it, settled on the edge of her bed, and flicked to an old entry. The paper was crinkled, and somewhat water stained. In the weeks after she had fallen apart, Twig had often flicked back to this entry, detailing the few memories she had retained from those days. The entry spoke of her friends’ warmth, and how loved she’d felt. It spoke of something, sharp and bloodied, being dislodged from her chest, the remaining hole filled with something gentler.

Looking back on it all, she almost couldn’t believe it had really happened. It felt so distant, almost as if it had happened to another person.

“I’m sorry.”

Stiffening at the voice, Twig turned slowly, and standing by the edge of the shadows was a small human girl, with frizzy hair, patchy clothes, and toes that stuck through the holes worn in her shoes.

Something in her chest lurched, but Twig’s mind had finally gone quiet.

The girl clutched at the hem of her shirt; her knuckles turned white. “I’m sorry. I didn’t do a good job of keeping us safe.”

Her eyes going wide, Twig slipped off the bedside. “You’re… me?”

“I’m sorry.”

After a moment, Twig took a deep breath, feeling her heart rattle in her chest. “Hey, can, can you look at me?”

Another sniffle, and the girl shook her head.

Twig scooted closer, and, slowly reaching out, took the girl’s hands in her own.

“Y-you don’t have to be afraid,” Twig whispered, her voice on the verge of breaking. “We’re okay now.”

Slowly, the girl looked up, her mouth hanging open and eyes wide, as if she couldn’t believe Twig’s words.

Twig nodded, biting her lip. “Yeah, we’re safe. We’ve got people who love us.”

The girl looked away and took a hesitant step back into the shadows. “But what if we’re just being a pain? Aren’t, aren’t we a burden?”

A broken cry slipped past Twig’s lips, and she shook her head. “Thank you, for trying so hard to look after us, but you don’t need to anymore.”

“But, what if-”

Twig clenched her eyes shut and pulled the girl in tight, wrapping her in a hug. “Would you hold a burden like this?”

For a moment, the girl was still, then her arms wrapped around Twig’s torso and her hands scrabbled at Twig’s shoulders. The girl wept loudly, snot dribbling from her nose, and amidst her tears, Twig heard three words.

“You’re so warm.”

When Twig finally opened her eyes, the girl was gone, and Ark was practically breaking down the door. He’d only been gone a few hours, what could’ve happened to reduce Twig to a snivelling mess on the floor during that time? He couldn’t guess, and he didn’t need to.

Wrapping her in a blanket, Ark carried her to the bed, fetched her a glass of water, and then crawled in beside her. Instantly, she latched onto him, tears still flowing, and told him all about it. He rubbed gently at her back, whispering quiet reassurances.

It hurt, yet in that moment, all was right with the world.

@sincerely-sofie

#I made it home safe

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url-is-under-construction · 2 years

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𝐄𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 | 𝐉.𝐌 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Requested by the beautiful @jaywolf840 :

Hiya! I was wondering if you possibly wouldn't mind writing a (The 100) John Murphy x reader imagine? 👉🏼 👈🏼 Maybe John and reader stargazing one night (this takes place during season 1-2) and it's basically just a cute fluffy time between the two until they get caught up in a moment, nearly kiss and one of them nearly confesses their feelings but then gets too embarrassed and cuts the night off to go to bed. I hope that makes sense, I dunno I'm kinda tired 😂😅😅

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Fluff, mentions of like violence but very mild, tragic backstories but you guys know the drill.

𝐒𝐲𝐩𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬: Ethereal. That's what it was. The beauty of watching the stars in the sky from the ground was utterly breathtaking, and with John there to view it with you the moment couldn't be more perfect, and neither could he.

𝐀/𝐍: I read this request and died thinking about how cute I could make this so I hope you enjoy it <3

Earth was beautiful. Ever since you'd landed you'd known that this was where you were supposed to be. The vegetation, the wildlife, all of it. You adored the world around you and the abundance it offered. You loved the way running water sounded, and the way it felt against your virgin skin. You relished in the way the wind would caress your face and sweep your hair back behind you. You got drunk on the feeling of the sun kissing your face in the early morning when you left your tent.

Most of all though, you looked forward to the stars. Looking up into the barren land you once called a home, and drinking in the beauty of it from a distance.

A twig snapping from behind you made you jump, pulling your attention away from the sky above you. You didn’t need to turn to see who it was, and a small smile grew on your face as he sat down beside you, wordlessly.

Murphy, or John as you were allowed to call him when only his ears were around to hear it. The privacy the blanket of the night sky offered beat any makeshift tent back in your camp, and every night the two of you would sit and enjoy each others company, stargazing as it was called.

Some nights you would speak to each other, other nights you would sit and enjoy each others company in silence. It didn’t really matter whether your words were involved or not - it meant something to both of you either way.

“The stars are out again tonight.” You commented softly, taking his mind back to last night when a thick cloud cover had obscured them from your view. You had still sat and enjoyed the night, but it wasn’t the same without those little beacons lighting up the sky.

“Mmm.” He just hummed, sounding tired.

Not bothered or annoyed by you, just tired. He worked hard around the camp, and despite was people saw on the outside he was more than a snarky dickhead. You hated to say he was different with you, but he was. Maybe it was because you had taken the time to look past the rude exterior, and you hadn’t let prejudice sway how you treated him when you’d first met him.

“Long day?” You asked, shifting your head to the side slightly to look at him. He looked exhausted, heavy bags and sunken cheeks. His face was downturned without emotion, and his eyes were empty despite reflecting the stars above you.

“Yeah.” He nodded, adjusting to lay down beside you. You followed him, allowing your head to rest by his shoulder, brushing against it gently.

You felt his arm come around your shoulders, holding you. To anyone who stumbled out you would look like a love struck couple, but this was just your friendship with him. It was open and soft and gentle, all the things that he wasn’t.

You loved him either way. You didn’t know what kind of love you felt for him, at first it was platonic but now you weren’t so sure. It didn’t really matter - as long as he knew how you felt.

“You ever wish you could still be up there?” He asked, breaking the silence.

“The Ark?”

“Yeah.” He turned his head to look at you, eyes twinkling with something you couldn’t pinpoint.

“God no.” You almost laughed. “Why would I?”

“It was easier up there.” He shrugged. “People hated me, but not the way they do down here. I didn’t have to worry about being speared through the chest and strung up as bait, or how I’d find my next meal.”

“I don’t think it was easier up there.” You admitted. “I didn’t have you up there.”

He squeezed your shoulder. “That’s why it would’ve been easier for you.”

He said it as a joke but you could hear the sincerity behind his words. It made you frown.

“You’re perfect, John. You’ve made Earth so much better for me than you can even begin to understand.”

He was silent at your words for a moment, averting his gaze from yours, looking back to the stars for guidance.

A doubtful feeling grew in your stomach, as you wondered whether or not you’d said the right thing. He opened his mouth, as though he was about to say something but he was cut off.

A large crack of thunder echoed throughout the small valley you called home with the rest of the hundred. Droplets of rain fell from the sky, splattering onto your face, increasing with intensity every couple of seconds.

“We should head inside.” Murphy said, standing abruptly. Rain shook from his hair and clothes as he stood, reaching down to offer you a hand up.

You’d expected him to walk in through the gates with you but as soon as you were on your feet he’d turned and walked off, a nervous, almost shy, air about him that you’d never seen before.

You looked to the stars one more time before heading inside, but they were gone, once again buried beneath the rain clouds.

A small sigh left your lips as you trudged inside, already looking forward to your next stargaze with John.

#murphy x reader #john murphy x reader #john murphy fic #murphy fic #john murphy imagine #murphy imagine

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the-present-is-a-gift-au · 4 months

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Chapter 9: In Which the Future Trio are Paid a Visit

Twig knocked on the front door of the Future Trio’s home with the world weighing on her shoulders. Celebi was the one to answer. “Twig, dear, it’s been too long! I couldn’t believe—”

She cut off abruptly when she caught sight of the shadowy figure looming over Twig’s shoulder. Curiously, her expression wasn’t one of terror or fury like Dusknoir and Grovyle wore when they peered through the doorway as well. She regarded Darkrai with a look of… disorientation, almost. Like she was suddenly seeing double and trying to discern what exactly she was staring at. It stirred up some old memory from meeting Celebi in the Dark Future after Team Venture’s brush with death, but she didn’t have time to dwell on the memory when Grovyle was readying an attack and Dusknoir was following shortly behind him.

She gestured to her plus-one. “This is Darkrai. Or Ark. Whichever name you want to use. I met him at Mount Travail. He lost his memories just like I did, so I've been helping him out since we met. Be nice to him. He's sensitive.”

Darkrai regarded her with a look of quiet curiosity, but said nothing. Grovyle and Dusknoir warily dismissed their forming attacks, and Celebi continued to squint at Twig and Darkrai.

"Darkrai, these are the guys I was telling you about— Celebi, and Grovyle, and Dusknoir." She indicated each one as she named them, then put on a strained smile. "Is dinner ready? I'm starved."

The food was great, as it always was, but the meal itself was the most awkward thing Twig had ever gone through, and Grovyle staring at her worriedly the whole time didn't make it any easier. Darkrai made regular attempts at polite conversation, but Dusknoir and Grovyle only ever responded in the most minimalistic ways one could imagine. Celebi meanwhile, despite her insistence before now that if she ever saw Darkrai again she would kill him on sight, was enthusiastically chatting with the same person who had sent her entire timeline into ruin, and she was doing so with a cordialness Twig hadn’t foreseen.

When the moon was high overhead, Grovyle indicated a room for Darkrai to sleep in and a separate one for Twig. When it was Kip and her visiting, it was always one room that they stayed in together. She guessed Grovyle saw her exhaustion and decided to remedy it however he could. Bless him. Even with her distance from Darkrai, though, Twig’s nightmares persisted. She woke up countless times clutching her arm and whimpering in pain. She was a mess come morning.

Grovyle was up, being the fellow early riser that he was, and watching the sunrise in the grasses on the edge of the Future Trio’s property. Twig sat down heavily beside him and flopped onto her back in the grass.

"What happened, Twig?" Asked Grovyle.

"It's what I said. Found him while I was delving at Mount Travail. He was shocked that I knew who he was because he had amnesia, and I brought him home. He's been my roommate since then."

"You need to kick him out. At minimum."

"Why?"

"Do I need to say it? Look at you. You're worse off than I've ever seen you since we reunited, maybe even worse than when we first met. You're putting yourself in danger to be kind to this moralless, untrustworthy—"

"I'm not doing this to be kind to him. I'm doing this to make sure he stays in line. I can't risk taking my eyes off the guy and having him remember how much he enjoyed world domination, Grovyle. It's— It’s bread and circuses for the Legend who almost took over the world. Keep him distracted and complacent. That sort of thing, you know?"

Grovyle didn't look like he believed her.

"Besides, who knows. Maybe some wacky shenanigans will happen and he and I will become best friends. It happened with you and Dusknoir, didn’t it?”

He bristled. “That isn’t the same, Twig,” he said lowly. “Dusknoir changed of his own volition. It wasn’t like this, where Darkrai is a disaster waiting to happen. Besides that— you’re not well.”

“I’m doing great,” she bit out.

“Have you looked in the mirror lately?”

Twig didn’t grace that with a response.

“Twig, I’m worried. Just tell me the truth. Are you okay?”

She tossed an arm over her eyes and grumbled an indistinct answer, and didn’t react further to his nagging.

***

Hours after the rest of the household had started their days, Celebi finally rose from bed, with Darkrai following shortly. They chatted quietly in the kitchen, discussing interdimensional auras, temporal entropy, and other topics that made no sense to a non-Legend. Twig watched them for a moment before turning to Dusknoir as he read, seated on the floor of the main room, and steeled herself.

He looked up when she approached, impassive expression flickering with worry.

"I need to ask you something," she said. Then after a few nervous heartbeats quietly added, "Privately."

He set his book aside and followed her out into the forest along the property's edge. Grovyle stood up from where he was knelt in the garden as they walked out. She waved off his look of concern with a dismissive motion. I'm fine. Don't worry about it. He was, yet again, visibly unconvinced, but didn't follow after them.

Dusknoir folded his arms behind his back when Twig came to a stop, finally satisfied that no one would be in view or earshot of the conversation she was dreading having, and calmly asked her, "What is your question?"

She opened and closed her mouth several times, put up a hand or started a gesture in order to begin only to falter halfway through the motion, and finally just sagged, shoulders drooping and head bowed, with a groan. "I guess it's less of a ‘question’ sort of thing and more of a ‘me running my mouth off and you telling me if I'm crazy’ sort of thing."

"Alright." He settled onto the forest floor, and the effort to get closer to her eye level was appreciated, especially when he motioned to a branch on a nearby tree that was closer to his own. "Run your mouth off, then, so I can assess your craziness. Keep in mind that you're not going to be told you're totally sane, though. I know you enough to say a description like that would be madness in itself."

The joke fell utterly flat in the face of her anxiety. But it was nice of him to try and ease the tension, at least. She clambered up and sat down on the branch, putting her face level with his brow, and wrung her hands. She had recited everything she wanted to say so many times in her head on the way here, and now all of it seemed inadequate and pointless.

"Breathe. Then start at the beginning," Dusknoir lightly instructed, jolting her from her thoughts. "Rip the bandage off quick."

Alright. Inhale slowly, exhale slowly. Stop agonizing and start talking. “My aunt would hurt me when I was a human. Like, hit me and stuff. A lot.” She wasn't looking at his face when she said it, but she could see him go stiff and still in the corner of her vision. “It was something that she'd do because I back-talked or acted up, and if it was really bad, she'd get out a lighter and— uh— b-but I forgot about anything happening when I became a charmander. It came back a while after you— uh—” She swerved hard around what she was about to say, pivoting her choice of words. “— after Kip and I came to the Dark Future, in little bits and pieces over time. I didn't tell anybody for ages, because it's dumb and embarrassing, and I wasn't going to, but… Well, Darkrai can visit people's nightmares, right? So he figured it out. He didn't say anything, and it was…" She paused. "Okay, he did say some things, but only in ways I understood. Nobody else picked up on it. But it freaked me out, and— well— yeah.

“That was before he lost his memories. But he figured it out again after that, and it's been messing with my head, even though he hasn't talked about it since he found out. Like, he hasn't mentioned anything. Not a peep. He's not exactly who he was before the whole amnesia thing, so he might not ever say anything, but I can't stop thinking about how he might. It's not a zero percent chance. It's just so stupid, because even if his memories did come back he probably wouldn't talk, but I'm stuck thinking about what if he does, and I… yeah."

Silence.

"So. Um. How crazy am I on a scale of one to ten?" She joked, turning to the man next to her and immediately regretting her attempt at humor.

Dusknoir had his eye behind a hand, arm crossed over his stomach, effectively hiding his face as he hunched in on himself.

"… Sorry for unloading on you," she murmured. "It's dumb. I shouldn't have said anything."

"Your… When you…" He tersely muttered a prayer and lowered his hand, looking up at her. "I— Thank you for telling me. I'm honored you trusted me enough to tell me. You did the right thing in telling me—"

"You can drop the script Magnezone gave you, man. I'm not a kid."

"—And you didn't deserve any of the mistreatment you received."

Something in her bristled at that. "I did, actually. But it's in the past. Or Future, or whatever," she hissed under her breath. She crossed her arms, looking down and away. "Forget I said anything, it was messed up for me to bother you with this junk."

"What did you say?"

"To forget about—"

"Before that."

"I said I deserved it and that it's done with, so whatever." She narrowed her eyes, glancing at him from the corners of her vision. He looked disgusted. "Yeah, look, I know it'd take some messed up stuff to deserve that sort of thing, but I was messed up. It's not on her. You don't have to worry about it."

“How on earth could a child deserve to be treated so repulsively?”

“I did a lot of awful things on top of being a legendary brat most days. Don't worry about it.”

“Twig. Answer me. What could you have done to deserve… You mentioned a lighter, those devices humans used to start fires? Arceus, how could you deserve such a thing being used on you?”

Her response came out small, timid. “I hurt a lot of people.”

“We all do. That doesn't mean any of us deserve to be abused by our kin.”

“No, like— I physically hurt them. Humans lived in bunkers when I grew up, and I'm the only one left from mine. And that's because of me. It's because of me an entire bunker is dead. It's my fault that hundreds of people are dead and gone, because I was a crybaby who couldn't handle getting batted around a bit here and there.” She cast him a weary, angry glance. “I'm pretty sure killing an entire community of men, women, and children counts as something that would make me deserve that kind of thing.”

His brow furrowed. “How could you manage to—?”

“By leaving my bunker. There was a fire, and the doors locked themselves behind me. No one else could get out, and they all burned or suffocated to death. Not a pretty way to go, you can guess, so I definitely had some preemptive karma going on with my aunt.”

There was a pause. “Preemptive,” Dusknoir echoed. “Am I right when I say, then, that you suffered for years before the supposed justification for your pain took place?”

Twig didn't respond.

“How did this fire start?”

“It just did,” she said too fast for it to be the truth. Dusknoir saw through it and asked again. “Look, I don't want to talk about— ugh. My aunt started it. I blabbed about her hurting me worse than normal to one of my teachers, and she was going to be arrested because it was real bad apparently—” Dusknoir made a choked sound beside her, but she pointedly ignored it— “So she started a fire to try and use it as cover for her to get out of trouble with. Probably. I dunno. Never got to ask her. I ran when I heard she was being detained because she always said that if something like that happened… Well, I didn't want to see if she was bluffing with what she told me. I ran, I left my bunker, and because of that these big bolts that lock the exit doors activated and trapped everyone inside behind me. It's my fault they all died in there.”

Dusknoir was silent for a long time. “How old were you upon coming to the surface?" He asked with a heavily fettered anger to his words.

"That doesn't matter. What happened is what happened, and it's done."

"Humor me."

She gritted her teeth. "I was six."

He took in a sharp breath and let it out in a low hiss. "You were a child young enough to not have even lived through ten winters. You fled because you were intimidated and abused by a wretch of a woman, and the mechanisms of your home failed. You can't be expected to hold the blame for a tragedy in which so many passed in an unfortunate way—"

"You can just say I cooked them, man. It's fine. And believe me, I'm not some poor little survivor or whatever you're thinking of me as. I was the worst kid anyone ever met. People hated me.”

“And who told you that?”

Twig gritted her teeth, silent.

"Even if you were an unpleasant child— which I honestly doubt— the blame for any escalation would not have been on your shoulders whatsoever. You were a child."

That stung somewhere deep in the back of her mind. "Thanks for trying to reassure me, but you're wrong. I was awful and I deserved every lick of pain I got.”

Dusknoir glared at her. "Whether or not you deserved anything doesn't matter. No one should lay a hand on you, regardless of whatever they might think you've earned. Would you say Azurill or Marill would deserve the treatment you received, were they in your place?” Her stomach seized at just the thought, and he continued. “No. You wouldn't. Because you know, even if you deny it, that what was done to you was wrong. What you deserved was safety and care, not to be made the victim of such cruel, unfair retribution.”

"Nice speech, still wrong. Bye." She hopped down from the branch and got three steps toward the house before Dusknoir caught her by the scruff and brought her level with his narrow glare. "Dude, what gives?!" She spat, clawing at his fingers.

"What gives is you're refusing to accept your complete innocence and acknowledge the perpetrator's sole responsibility for what was done. You were an innocent bystander; a child."

"I don't count!"

"You do."

"No, I don't!"

"Why do you believe that?"

"I told you— I killed my entire bunker!"

"And did that matter?"

“Put me down, you lousy piece of—"

"Did that matter?"

She paused, claws stilling in their furious assault on the hand holding her aloft, brows furrowing as she held his unyielding, though not unkind, gaze— the question sinking in. "… What?"

"Did you really kill them?" Arceus, he sounded so tired. “Did you kill them, or did you survive them?”

Silence.

“Anyone else could have been the first to flee. Anyone else could have gone through the exit before you. And then it would be them in your place, cursing themself for having lived where others died. You didn't will the mechanisms to fail, nor did you sabotage them. All you did was have the misfortune of surviving alone.”

She slowly lowered her claws from his fingers, curling her hands in to her chest. When she finally looked away from him without any rebuttal to spit, it felt like she'd been skinned alive— like her outer layers were all peeled away until there was nothing left but a dripping, bloody wound where she once stood.

Silence.

"… Put me down," she repeated.

He did so, and settled onto the ground beside her.

There was quiet for a long moment as they sat. Twig drew her knees up to her chest, hugged them close, and hunched her shoulders in as she stared at the ground by her feet.

Dusknoir spoke in a steady tone— firm but understanding as he brought their conversation back to Twig's initial concern. "Don't blame yourself for what was done to you by your kin. Don't blame yourself for fearing the ability to tell someone yourself being removed from you. But most of all, do not blame yourself for surviving. You were spared. Others were not. You surely feel disoriented and disgusted by that fact. But there is nothing to be done about the past but to continue living."

Those last words echoed in her skull. It hit her that he was speaking from experience, and a number of things clicked into place.

(He had mentioned there being other servants of Primal Dialga. Yet by the time they had entered the Dark Future, only he and the sableye enjoyed such a rank. She'd seen scars on him that didn't fade, a hallmark of a wound dealt by a Legend.

(It wasn't the same as her upbringing. Nothing would be. But if she thought about it, “As you wish, my lord” sounded dangerously close to “I'll go get the lighter, Auntie.”)

“You were a child,” he repeated, and his words felt like antiseptic on an open wound.

A few strangled tears slipped from her, and she managed to hold back most of her pitiful, weepy noises. But when she continued to sniffle and shake, Dusknoir set a kind hand over her shoulder— or over her entire upper arm, rather, with his size— and Twig, deciding that he could be a part of the Don't lose a hand when you touch Twig club, let all the years of swallowing back the need to scream and sob finally excise themselves.

***

To say she got worried looks upon returning to the house was an understatement. She knew it must have been clear in her face that she was crying, and Dusknoir’s clawed-up hand certainly didn’t help ease any concerns. Darkrai’s subtle worry was the most unnerving, though she knew Grovyle’s blatant fretting meant she was in for a discussion she didn’t want to have. Dusknoir set a hand on his shoulder as he made to approach when she started for the guest room— murmured something about allowing her time to collect herself— and Twig didn’t linger long enough to react to Grovyle’s heart-wrenching expression of concern. She locked the door and let herself collapse onto the bed, boneless and hollowed-out from her tears.

It was as if something had been ripped out of her as she wept at Dusknoir’s side. She felt like she’d had a tangled, knotted mass extracted from deep within her ribs. It wasn’t a bad sort of feeling, but it was definitely different than the constant lump in her throat she was used to. It was strange. Certainly not unpleasant, but not exactly good either.

She didn’t sleep that night, only stared at the wall in a numb daze. It wasn’t a bad night. But it wasn’t exactly a good one, either.

Grovyle was up when she rose the next morning. She murmured a greeting and poured herself a cup of whatever was heating in a kettle on the stovetop. It was a lukewarm magost berry tea, and the lack of steeping made it distinctly unpalatable. She drank it regardless.

He watched her drink for a moment. She avoided eye contact.

“Twig,” he finally said, “you’re being reckless.”

She did not need another ‘Let’s unearth all of Twig’s shortcomings and bring them up for review’ session so soon. She took another swig of the tea and looked away from Grovyle entirely.

“What if Darkrai’s memories return? What do you do then? You’re living with him. Who’s to say that he won’t recall his past and decide to kill you in your sleep?”

“That won’t happen,” she muttered.

“How can you say that so confidently? It’s a possibility! You don’t know for certain that it won’t happen—”

“The Darkrai I knew isn’t ever coming back, Grovyle! He’s gone. So I'd better get used to it already. I don’t need you driving in the fears that things will change when they never will! Darkrai is gone, he’s dead. So I should start acting like it, and you should too!” With those last words, she rounded on him, teeth bared and the flame at the end of her tail bright in the dim room.

She had never seen Grovyle look so defeated.

“I…” She swallowed hard. Why was he staring at her like that? Why was he—

Oh.

Darkrai wasn’t the only person who had lost their memories. He wasn’t the only one who had changed beyond recognition. He wasn’t the only one who people had to relearn how to act around when they used to know him well.

“I’m sorry,” she forced out. “I didn’t mean it like— I didn’t—” She gritted her teeth for a moment longer, then stormed out with another stammered apology.

Arceus, she felt awful. And she knew Grovyle felt even worse.

Good job, idiot.

***

Twig didn’t say goodbye when she left the next morning. She’d already done enough damage— it’s not like she needed to rub into Grovyle’s face that she was too stupid to know how to fix the damage she’d done to him and what friendship had been recovered between them. Darkrai was up and about in the main room already when she got up to leave, long enough before sunrise that even Grovyle hadn't risen for the day. She didn’t tell him they were leaving. Darkrai understood without her saying so— just rose up silently and followed behind her as she locked the front door after them with the spare key she’d been gifted.

At some point on the homeward trek, Darkrai spoke. “I don’t mean to seem as though I doubt you, but I still find it necessary to clarify how exactly we knew each other before my memories were lost.”

Twig found herself picking up the pace out of an instinctual need to flee— she had to purposefully slow her strides. “I already said you were a do-gooder type, man. You traveled all around, and my exploration team partner and I traveled too. We were bound to bump into each other at some point, and we got to know you a bit whenever we did.”

A pause. “This doesn’t explain why you and your companions are all so wary of me.”

“What?”

“Surely you noticed how Grovyle and Dusknoir reacted upon witnessing my arrival? They were ready to strike me down— or at the very least give their greatest effort in doing so.”

She chewed at the inside of her cheek. “That’s just them— they’re weird and nervous about new people. I’m not scared of you, Darkrai. Trust me.”

He didn’t respond further. She could only hope that he didn’t notice the waver in her voice at her final words as they traveled through snowdrifts and frost to Verdant Village.

#the present is a gift au #pmd eos #pmd fanfic #pmd explorers #pmd fanfiction #pmd fic #pmd2 #pokemon mystery dungeon #pmd sky

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sincerely-sofie · 3 months

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A guilty conscience needs no accuser.

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faithconsumingcope · 5 months

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okkkk gonna do a list of my 30 favorite albums

(1 per artist to make it varied, ofc i’ll forget a few)

1. Magdalene - FKA twigs

2. Homogenic - Björk

3. Untrue - Burial

4. Loveless - My Bloody Valentine

5. Dummy - Portishead

6. Mezzanine - Massive Attack

7. Selected Ambient Works 85-92 - Aphex Twin

8. Mutant - Arca

9. The Money Store - Death Grips

10. Songs About Leaving - Carissa’s Weird

11. Blackout - Britney Spears

12. Renaissance - Beyoncé

13. Oil of Every Pearl’s Un-insides - SOPHIE

14. In Rainbows - Radiohead

15. good kid, M.A.A.D city - Kendrick Lamar

16. Titanic Rising - Weyes Blood

17. How I’m Feeling Now - Charli XCX

18. Blonde - Frank Ocean

19. So Tonight That I Might See - Mazzy Star

20. Deathconsciousness - Have A Nice Life

21. Lift Your Skinny Fists Like Antennas to Heaven - Godspeed You! Black Emperor

22. Phoenix: Flames Are Dew Upon My Skin - Eartheater

23. Veteran - JPEGMafia

24. Rid of Me - PJ Harvey

25. The Ark Work - Liturgy

26. The Downward Spiral - Nine Inch Nails

27. Psychocandy - The Jesus & Mary Chain

28. Born to Die - Lana del Rey

29. El mal querer - Rosalía

30. Shabrang - Sevdaliza

#music vibes #experimental music #electronic music #fka twigs #björk #charli xcx #weyes blood #eartheater #pj harvey #alt music #i have the best and worst taste #mazzy star #portishead #rosalía

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ants-personal · 6 months

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idk when ill have time to actually write it sighs but ive had the idea of slenderman basically using tims dead friends against him (against their wills as well but they are arks now)

The rake hasnt slowed them down like thought just evan mostly hes gravely hurt and weak but even still he and tim have proven to be stronger together so the operator would take the time to strike when theyre weakest

Basically youd have evan bleeding out from his various wounds feom the rake attack ontop of a shower curtain tim ripped off the motel shower and draped in the back so the car doesnt get any more ruined with evans blood. Evan swears hes fine he doesnt need any help and yes tims seen him heal from injuries but none like this before he has a gaping slashes in his side and the a chunk missing from where his shoulder meets his neck plus every other little wound.

So tim who doesnt even know if he goes to the hospital or.. just keep going and try and move past the motel massacre they are leaving behind all while hearing evan try to quietly gasp for air and choke on blood.

Hes about to turn towards the next city get evan to the hospital claim a bear attack or some kinda of big cat hes not even sure if they are any in these woods a wolf maybe then anything just get evan help and forget this stupid trip fuck habit and take evan back home with him and theyll deal.

But just as he decides in this runs his hand over his face to be met with a sight that makes his stomach drop and ice run through his veins before hes swerving and skidding over the road to avoid the sight of a man wearing a biege hoodie a shadow for his face.

Gaining control of the car to pull to a stop at the side of the road evan letting out a small groan asking what the hell happened as tim grips the steering wheel trying to calm his breathing when theres a crack near the car

wide eyes slowling moving towards the sound and futher distorted by the dark anc branches tim can still see the silhouette of ...him standing before slowling and turning to walk futher into the woods and tim knows he shouldnt follow him brians dead hes been dead for years hes accepted this his friends are gone and running after him into the dark forest would be the worst decision.....

Hed put the car in park and quickly takes off after him calling after brian if evan exists here now and hes mentioned before that there other "realms" and habits a athing maybe ... maybe brian is back in a way adrenaline rushing in he runs and runs but he cant seem to find or catch up no matter how close he gets the woods seem fo be clsoing in grabbing at his ankels pushing throu until hes falling out of an opening pushing himself up brushing off the leaves and twigs.

Chest heaving eyes widing at the sight of an abandoned building that doesnt exist anymore torn down due to lack of upkeep but here it stands just how he remembers it. He scans the building for anything he brain lead him here right he must be trying to tell him something.

He takes a step towards it stopped by the growing ringing in his ears he could nothing but cover his ears but it feels like its coming from inside his head eyes squinting against the pain and catches a glimpse of a hoodie disappearing through a door.

He grits his teeth and shakes his head before taking off towards where they disappeared pulling the heavy door with difficulty sliping inside as it slams shut with a deafening boom

The halls barely lit by the moonlight spilling in from busted windows a chill breeze blowing leaves he backs against the door thats as soild as a wall now. Its quiet not even the sounds of the forest and he knows hes made a mistake.

and theb he hears it its so quiet at first he cant make it out

his name being called out for and hes taking off before he can think its jays voice

#OOHOOo poor evan abandoned and habits yellin at him to get up cause tims being stupid anyways UH #everymanhornet #tim wright #evan myers #everymanhybrid #marble hornets #mh #emh #ant posts stuff

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ruleofbirds · 2 months

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𝚍𝚎𝚟𝚕𝚘𝚐_𝟶𝟸.𝟷

Moa's Ark & Zealandia

https://www.nzonscreen.com/title/moas-ark-1990/series

Moa's Ark (1990s TV series) opening animation. It was during the 90's that scientists formulated the "Zealandia" protocontinent theory and complexity of how species migrated over time, putting the last nail in the coffin of the idea that everyone got a free ride over on a piece of Australia. Going through Aotearoa's natural history doco archives has been a lot of fun.

Hello again! I took a bit of a break in posting long- form updates, but I think there's enough on my mind for a second batch of posts this week. After that there will again just be small updates on the Instagram until May - when I may have some sort of concept media for the sim to show off. For now I'll aim for a focused peek into a couple of aspects of it as usual.

This post is going to be all about the Moa, the species that got me hooked on this project. It's also going to be about species variation, and the tension between scientific accuracy and visual accessibility.

Moa skeletal reconstitutions at Te Papa Tongarewa, Museum of New Zealand.

A couple of interesting facts about the moa;

-We currently classify them as nine species. Here is a full catalog of every time someone thought they'd found a new one:

-Within many species, female moa can be more than twice the size of males (yes, this is one reason so many moa "species" were identified)

-Moa are unique in that they had no wings (not even the kiwi's tiny t-rex stubs) and, thank goodness because so many NZ species can be traced back to evolving from Australian fauna, their closest past relatives are South American tinamous rather than the emu.

-They also got a bad wrap for their past perception as tall, emu- like, big dumb grass grazers. Actually, while they're nowhere near as smart as multi-sense-foraging kiwi, they could identify and feast on a whole variety of twigs, herbs, leaves and berries - most of which were found in the more common forest than grassland.

This is why they have a bulky build and head-forward posture (until kinda recently, museum curators tended to give them that tall, emu/giraffe like posture, even adding extra vertebrae for show.)

Whanganui Regional Museum (This isn't close to the worst examples)

So; how do I even begin to approach the scope, as well as potential uncertainty, of data we have on the Moa?

Here's one way: Oversimplification!

Screenshots from Godot editor & runtime previews for compatibility (web) mode and forward+ (basically more shaders) renderer. The camera is RTS- style; getting the runtime shots was a bit finnicky.

I've started to build low-poly models in Blender for the fauna, which in the future I'd love to rig for animation and get super technical with appearance variation. For now I'll focus on the system for placing them in the right biome and basic pathing behaviour, and the Moa will be a North Island giant moa based vaguely off this model for an AR national park exhibit: https://moaparkotorohanga.wordpress.com/2014/07/08/a-collection-of-moa-feedback-from-trevor-worthy-and-lizzy-perrett/

While I'm not working directly on the simulator for the next while, I am building this 2D tool to represent the moa's species variation; it is *incredibly* helpful to have just set up a system where I can add and edit instances of a broader Moa "class", and I'm looking forward to giving each species its visual character (the main creative liberty I'll be taking is colour coding from grey to brown to communicate which of New Zealand's islands each species populated, as well as their preferred biome (there's 3 main ones: subalpine mountain, wet podocarp forest, dry forest/ lowland)

Moa "collection" project at time of writing.

If this exercise has highlighted anything though, it's just how difficult it is to reduce life's complexities to a single shape that represents a single numeric value. Those who read my last posts may remember that any given moa species' size may have varied over time and with temperature, (generally bigger during ice ages and smaller out of them) along altitude, (generally bigger and bulkier higher up) and just within species based on how they adapted to any given place. Not to mention the relatively massive lady moa.

And since we're only working with what's left of them all - the only intact gizzard samples proving that whole diet theory, and most of the remains we have to work with, are those found in Pyramid Valley in Canterbury (a swamp with surrounding mosaic of vegetation and forest) - who knows how to truly depict what life was like tens of thousands of years ago.

From the Moa book by Quinn Berentson

A very cursed JavaScript "spreadsheet".

So, very long-winded post. I hope you found something interesting within! Something that made you think about nature's craziness maybe. I meant to get across just how much there is to scientific communication, and I barely touched on how I aim to keep the overall narrative in focus (or basically be aware of it.)

I can't wait to work on this more collaboratively, with folks who really know their stuff about ecology and the cultural aspects of Aotearoa - I think the potential for collaboration and education is what's keeping me going with this project.

Until next time ! - here's some of my highlights from a trip to the Zealandia ecosanctuary.