#dystopian scenery

[feodortum]

[luciusfelimus-nox]

E C U M E N O P O L I S

Art by: Lucius Felimus

[no7er]

The Last Arcology Digital artwork by me, 2023

[thoughtfulobservationcollection]

[eyes-talks-ocs]

May 2024

--

'We all die a little sometimes - it's alright.'

Sometimes Macaw has a moment of sudden self awareness. And sometimes - those moments when he has that clarity, he scares himself.

--

Just playing around and trying to find ways to layer color to add some more texture to my work.

[psychopasss4]

PPP Challenge: Rewrite a scene

★★★★

Arata: (Coming out of the time machine, he spotted Akane).

"Mom?! Why are you so like that?!" he exclaimed. "Why are you not talking with Dad?!

Akane: "Excuse me? Do I know you?"

Arata: "It doesn't matter! How am I suppose to be born if you guys keep acting like teenagers?!"

"Talk to him soon! Set aside all the jealousy angst you've kept for years! Just take off his cigarette if you must and talk to him now! Okay?!"

Next day, Akane and Kogami...

★★★★

...if you as an audience would be given a chance to rewrite a scene or script from PPP, what would it be?

🤭😂🤗

[tahnisreu]

wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeze i want this to be addi’s family link shack

[technicallyclassyperfection]

what is the name of this anime?

[tonythr]

The Watcher's telescope view is a social commentary and here's why

Ok so let's set some things right first. City of Tears is amazing.

(Yes, Pale Court is also an amazing mod)

I've played Hollow Knight many times, and City of Tears is probably the one location I never get tired of. The scenery, the lore, the room layout, the music, the atmosphere - it's all perfect. It's the culmination of Halllownest's beauty, the peak of the game's art style, and the narrative's most essential location. City of Tears is the heart of Hollow Knight.

This game is a story about a Kingdom and its death, a tragedy of a society that was built on dreams of light but ultimately was consumed by the light so much that darkness became its only hope. And City of Tears stands at the center of this story. So it's fitting that the themes of corrupted dreams, society flaws, and dark hopes are what shape the lore and atmosphere of this beautiful, gorgeous location.

Did you ever notice that the tears of this Kingdom are dark despite them originating in a glowing blue lake, and the waters that flood the streets are almost as dark as the void in the Abyss? Do you ever think about how the vibrant blue color of the City is basically a culmination of how the color blue is presented in other locations (Howling Cliffs, Forgotten Crossroads, and later Royal Waterways being more of a remix of it), and how it's tied to the very essence of Hallownest (and how Resting Grounds, the location that contains Blue Lake and also uses a bright blue color, represent the very foundation of Hallownest's history, that being Seer's story about the Moth Tribe's betrayal that started the war between Pale King and the Radiance)? Do you feel like Soul Master basically represents the thunder and the lightning in this never-ending rain? Do you get it????

Anyway yeah, there are many things that can be said about City of Tears, and this is hopefully not the last time I make a post about it. What I want to talk about here is the City's society.

Basically, Monomon said it better than anyone could:

It's a very complicated topic. The narrative basically explores the inner mechanisms of a free mind, how its primary need is finding a purpose, and how its purpose turns out to be a constant need of... something. Anything. As long as there is something to want, a free mind will want it. As long as there is something to yearn for, something to enjoy, something to dream about, our minds are going to move in its direction, never wanting to stop. Because a stasis is worse than death. Because a world without dreams is an empty world.

But then again, isn't constant yearning another instance of, well, constance? If dreams never end but also never evolve, doesn't that create another kind of stasis?

Like I said, it's very complicated. Let's go back to what I was getting at in the first place. What I actually wanted to say is this:

Theese guys fucking fucked up as a society.

It's classic dystopian shit (or maybe I'm using the wrong word, but you get the point). Rich people are living in luxury while the rest are suffering. They're making gold a fucking religion and are seeing it as the only beauty in the world. The corrupt upper class are using heavy gatekeeping on the lower class.

Literally.

What's interesting is that, at first, we barely see any lower class bugs in the City. There's suspiciously few regular husks in this location, compared to how many rich guys are on the eastern side. But then we get to Soul Sanctum and it all starts to make sense.

There are no red cloaks in those corpse piles. Only the poor were killed for those experiments. It can't be a coincidence. It's straight-up elitism-based genocide (again, I don't know if I'm using the right terms, correct me if there's a better way to say that, but the point is clear).

Also, see how many streets are flooded on the western side in comparison to the eastern side.

Point is, the bugs that ruined the kingdom by always wanting more (what Monomon wrote about) are most likely theese rich ones. It's a very fitting thing for this dystopian narrative: neverending greed that leads to the downfall of a civilization.

There's a note in the Hunter's Journal that describes it in the best way possible:

For every location in the game, there is a place that functions as the center of its essence, its narrative heart, the culmination of its themes. For Queen's Gardens it's the White Lady's cocoon, for Greenpath it's the Lake of Unn, and for City of Tears (or at least its eastern part, the one with the upper class) it's the Watcher's Spire. The tallest building of the great capital. The home of (evidently) the most rich and influential bug of the City's high society. Literally the top of this social hierarchy.

He is also arguably the most mysterious dreamer out of all three. I mean, why does he have only one eye? What type of bug is he? How did he get this much power? Does he really have some kind of connection with the Collector? Is he a motherfucking fluke? Why does he seem to have an obsession with serving the King?

That last question is kinda answered by the cut content though.

That last sentence is kinda confusing. Is it regret? Is it humility? Is it pride in his sacrifice? In any case, here we see that Lurien actually knew that the Pale King was literally a god, and desired to worship him, like any other bug yearns to worship some kind of deity. So while other bugs of Hallownest worshiped PK because he was a monarch, albeit a godlike one (for all they knew he could be just an extraordinary bug, but a bug nonetheless), Lurien worshiped him as an actual god. And the intricacies of worshiping a god are one of the central themes of the game. From the moth tribe's betrayal of Radiance leading to the birth of the Infection to the Godseeker's shenanigans leading to the birth of the Shade Lord - the game makes multiple statements about gods, religious devotion and the semantics of divine power. Just that one idea that a god takes its power from the ones that worship it deserves its own post - heck, it deserves its own book.

So yeah, Lurien's devotion to the King is an important part of the story. He sure is an important character in this narrative. He also got a cool house. Being able to observe the entirety of the Hallownest's capital is badass.

But there's one thing I find odd about all that, and it's the moment we get to actually look through his legendary telescope.

Is it just me, or does this feel kinda... Underwhelming? Almost disappointing? I mean, don't get me wrong, I love this view, it's beautiful, and I would certainly love to be able to see something like this with my own eyes irl, but, looking at this picture, I can't help but wonder...

Did he actually see anything from up there?

In cut dialogue, Lurien talks about how he loves the City's streets, and his hidden lore tablet contains words about his love for bugkind, but... I see neither any streets on this image, nor any bugs (that are not vengeflies). Only spiked rooftops and rainy fog, clouding the view of the actual City.

And sure, the Spire has many windows and even had multiple watchers who were helping Lurien with overseeing the capital...

But his own spot was always this one.

His telescope was sealed in one place, letting him see only a small portion of the City and its life. Almost like his own worldview was stuck in one perspective.

Notice the wording here. It's not "The Seals must remain". It's "Bonds must remain". He's not thinking just about the Seals containing the Infection. He's thinking about the whole Kingdom needing to stay unchanged. His dream is the stasis that the Knight (and also Monomon, Hornet and, in a sense, even Radiance) want to end. The stasis that the Pale King wanted to create in order for his Kingdom (and therefore himself) to be eternal. The stasis that would allow for both Pale King and Lurien's worship of him to remain forever.

But there is always a cost to ascending higher than others, and it's that you can no longer see what's going on below or who's suffering down there. I think Lurien, sitting atop the tallest tower, was actually detached from the struggles of regular bugs. He and his Spire are the culmination of the City's upper class' ignorance towards the ones who were below them on the social hierarchy. A dreamer who dreamt of watching over the very heart of the holy civilization lived so high up he could no longer see his beloved world in its complicated, detailed entirety – and the tears of the stasis created by those like him only blinded him more.

All those flooded streets, those broken buildings, those empty halls, those starving bugs, those sealed doors - even though he watched over them, he couldn't see them.

I'm pretty sure Lurien didn't even know about the Soul Master's experiments, despite the fact that the Soul Sanctum was located right next to his Spire.

Or maybe he knew but chose to turn a blind eye to it (pun intended).

But it's kind of poetic, isn't it? It's the beauty of the tragedy of this game's characters. A Beast who had to surrender everything to the opposing civilization. A Teacher who could no longer teach. A Watcher who couldn't see the truth.

And all that makes me wonder... How much suffering could the Pale King see, standing on that platform at the top of the Abyss, facing away from the pit where his children died?

TL;DR: Lurien's point of view was too high up to actually see what was truly going on down there, both literally and metaphorically. His desire to worship the Pale King made him ignorant of the struggles of regular bugs. Similarly, the extreme elitism of the high society of Hallownest lead to ignorance, discrimination and greed, which ultimately caused the sprawl of the Infection. This side of Lurien's story might also parallel the Pale King's with his ignorance towards the discarded vessels.

TL;DR²: Eat the rich

[hdra77]

a little wip for some scenery study ft. me and my friend's ocs hoo boy this is going to be a big one to work with ! :D i was this close on leaving them green and leaving that bg sketch as is LMAO ocs featured: (left)delighted jingling (my friend's oc) (right)dystopian arbitrary endless possibilities (mine!)

[feodortum]

[mgparker]

the bodyguard- din djarin

DIN DJARIN X F!ROYAL!READER [SERIES]

summary: tensions rise as the princess of the dystopian planet eiria finally approaches the age in which she will take the throne. despite her reluctance, she finds herself under the protection of the infamous mandalorian.

warnings: female reader, given surname, implied hair length (medium to long), little mandalorian content but that’ll change in the next chapter, world building, time jumps, elusiveness (for plot development), unedited so beware

series masterlist!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚. i. a stranger in my room *ੈ✩‧₊˚.

Long before the fall of the Jedi Order, there'd been peace. Harmony amongst those who made their way in the galaxy. Tranquility and above all, happiness.

Even in these times, Eiria was such place that many people could only dream of. A planet so ethereal and utopian it was a wonder that it truly existed.

Luscious greenery covered its surface, slipping through the cracks and edges of its magnificent buildings, built on a foundation of gold. Technologically advanced in its own right, humble and simple where it mattered.

Technology was only used to ensure the safety of its citizens, otherwise Eiria was a world untouched by the horrors of the galaxy. Kept safe by its council of leaders that had been appointed and passed down along the generations.

It hadn't always been led by this council. No, Eiria was a royal world. Since its first taste of civilization, the hand of a ruler had governed the lands...

But when the former king and queen fell ill to a sickness that had wiped out over a quarter of Eiria's population over ten years ago, the leadership of the planet had fallen onto the shoulders of a council that had existed long before their reign.

All left from their rule, besides the sparkling scenery and magnificent buildings they'd had built overtime, was their daughter.

She'd been spared from the wicked disease that had claimed the lives of her parents, taken under the wing of her father's closest friend and advisor, Senator Phex Dameron.

The Princess was as stubborn as she was loyal, dedicated to her people until her last breath, a weight on her shoulders since the moment she was born. Thrust upon her the crushing responsibility of royalty, only to be spared her teenage years and emerging adulthood.

Every day, she thanked the maker that her parents had decreed she wouldn't take the throne until she had reached twenty one cycles — even if it was solely to secure that the throne would remain in their families for cycles to come. You see, a leader could be challenged if they were deemed too young to take the throne. To avoid that from happening, the King and Queen had signed into law that should need arise, the Council would take over all governing responsibilities and otherwise until the Princess was of suitable age.

At just twenty cycles old, the last Altair was on the dawn of a new age...

But along with it, came the danger.

The Princess of Eiria stares ahead, cold and calculating, teeth gritted together, seething beneath the carefully constructed surface, and swears that one day she will never have to answer to anyone again.

Before you, a panel of men, women and creatures alike, watching you with those greedy, overbearing eyes. It's not you that wears a mask, it's them. With their false pretenses, the caring acts behind worried gazes.

They don't care about you. They care about the wealth. The riches. Getting in the good graces of the Senator.

You expect he'll be elected any day now. It's only a matter of time and until then, and even after, the Council will put on those infuriating masks.

The Senator stares at you without the mask. In fact, there's no expression on his face at all. Except for the hint of pity you sense from his body language. You've known him too long to not see it right away.

A twinge of annoyance hits you. This is partly his fault-- what pity could he be feeling?

You should probably speak now. Not to the Council or to the Senator. But to him.

As angry as you were, he was only here to do his job. You'd do your best to keep him out of your path of fury.

You politely tell him your name, though it's not needed, and thank him for accepting the Senator's offer of serving as your protector.

After all, the Mandalorian will be following your every step from now on. It's best to be on civil terms for both your sanities.

You ignore everyone else in the Council Chamber.

The Mandalorian gives one curt nod.

Normally, you'd be irked by his silence but in this moment, you're grateful for it. You spin toward the door, guarded by two Jedi knights the Senator had sent for.

You bite the inside of your cheek and stride for the exit.

"Sunshine," it's the Senator. You stop. "It's for the best. You'll thank me in the future."

You don't turn around. Heavy footsteps follow behind you.

You doubt it.

It's been exactly three days since your world was further more flipped on its axis.

The remnants of grief over your recent loss had been overshadowed by the irritation you felt over the presence of the Mandalorian.

It isn't his fault. You constantly try to remind yourself, even as you furiously glare at the stupid tin helmet that rests over his head. He's just doing his job and you're not making it any easier.

It was on day three that you made this realization.

"I'm sorry if I've been... cold towards you. We’ve barely said a word since we’ve met.”

“Don’t apologize,” his raspy modulator replies stoicly. “Socializing isn’t exactly in the job description.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and glare at your own reflection in the vanity mirror you sit before. The reminder that your only regular company, other than the Senator, was here by obligation sours your attempt to befriend the Mandalorian.

“Right. Well, as much as I’ve enjoyed your silent shadow hovering over me for the past seventy-two hours, I highly doubt watching me every waking second is in your job description either.”

He stays silent, despite your bait.

You have no problem going on, combing your hair absentmindedly. “Perhaps you should be doing other things. Surely the rest of the castle requires some sort of surveillance. The Council would pay handsomely.”

“My job here is strictly to keep you under my protection, Princess.”

Your lip curls slightly. “Well, as you can see the windows are shut, my balcony bolted and the biggest threat to me at the moment is tangling my hair in this brush. So I would kindly request that your services extend to the exterior of my quarters please. I’d like some privacy please.”

You’re trying to be as polite as possible. You really are, but there’s only so much stoic silence from a metal man hovering in one of the corners of every room you enter that you could take.

All your life you’d been as independent as a member of the royal family could be. The Senator had made sure of that— and it was partly the reason you were still so angry with him over this arrangement. So going from that to this, it was not going well for you. Not at all. Especially since your new stalker didn’t seem to make any noises or speak any words beside ‘yes’, ‘no’, or some bullshit answer to any specific question you’d ask. But only if it was job-related, otherwise, he was an unmoving, nonverbal statue.

Three days with the Mandalorian and you were beginning to absolutely despise his beskar helmet and the nonexistent sense of security the Council had believed he’d bring.

This was all done for their benefit. Not yours.

You didn’t need protection before and you certainly don’t need it now. He served no purpose but to make you uncomfortable under his unbreaking gaze.

“I will be right outside the door, your Highness.”

Your eyes jolt up to him in pure surprise. You had been expecting the usual silence, for him to ignore your request as he did all the other times you’d told him you didn’t require his unwavering surveillance.

Maybe the fact that you’d pointed out every single enter and exit strategy finally convinced him, but you couldn’t know for sure. Not with that obscure helmet.

You dismiss your thoughts and almost catch yourself beaming at his reflection in the corner of your room. “Thanks,” you breathe, opting for a smaller smile, filled with gratitude.

He nods once and then leaves.

You release a breath you didn’t even know you were holding.

The first thought that crosses your mind is one you dismiss just as quickly as it arose. The small traces of adolescence that cling on to you tempt you to sneak away from the Mandalorian. Break the rules. See how far you could run before he caught up to you.

But you dismiss it. Because you’re loyal to your people and you know why he’s here despite you not agreeing to all the dramatics.

The Senator claims this is all for your protection. That coming of age and taking the throne would likely bring danger as those who wished to rule the throne would start creeping out of the hiding places they’d taken residence in since the death of your parents.

But it itches beneath your skin the longer you gaze over at the crack under your bedroom door, the shadow of his feet unmoving and steady.

You could run. Make a little game out of it. See if he’s really as qualified as Senator Dameron says he is.

You sigh quietly and set the brush down very slowly. Your heart pounds in anticipation, a plan forming in your mind.

As quickly and stealthily as possible, you slip out of your casual gown into a pair of very unladylike trousers and a tunic that you laced up tightly.

You brainstorm different ways to make your exit. Maybe you could cough or somehow force a sneeze? Some way to let your Mandalorian know you were still unsuspiciously lounging in your quarters.

You decide against it, instead doing your best to unlock your windows without making so much as a creak. Surprisingly, it’s not all too difficult.

The window swings open, both panels nearly knocking into the stone exterior of the castle but you lunge forward to grab onto them. Your momentum drives you forward with more eagerness than you intended, your feet flying from the floor, tipping out into the evening dusk with the ghost of a scream on your lips.

Something pulls you back at the feet.

Your body remains suspended, hands clutching onto the panels white-knuckled. You quickly toss a glance behind you, fully expecting to see your bodyguard standing there with his stupid beskar staring disappointedly at you.

By the sheer grace of the Maker, there’s no one behind you at all.

The only thing that saved you from plummeting to your death was your pesky iron dresser, the one that had those decorative swirls that you often knocked your ankle against.

On it, the hem of your surprisingly sturdy trousers, which were beginning to rip at the seams the longer you stood there hanging like an idiot.

Quickly, you toss yourself back to safety, freeing your hem and sheathing your small dagger you kept under your pillow. When suddenly you hear a shuffle against the door and you freeze.

Your eyes are trained on the shadow under the crack of your door. It’s the Mandalorian, thankfully just readjusting his stance.

Deciding there’s no more time to lose, you drag a hidden rope you had tied to one of the posts under your bed from your younger adventures, and carefully climb out of your window. All the while hoping the Mandalorian wouldn’t decide to check in on you at that exact moment.

As soon as your feet touch the floor, you’re off, leaving the rope and your quarters in the dust.

An elated laugh escapes you. It feels like you’re floating over the stone pavement, more free than you’ve been since before you were orphaned.

It gives you a head rush, this thrill, knowing you’re breaking every rule in the book — for the Royal Princess of Eiria was not to wander the streets unattended, much less when the sun was falling below the horizon. Senator Dameron would probably burst a blood vessel if he saw you now.

After a few minutes of aimless sprinting, you begin to see the outline of the city, lit by its posts and the torches held by the knights on guard. You eye them, trying to figure out how to get past undetected.

Suddenly, you hear the sound of hoofs against the damp grass and the panic sends you flying into a nearby bush.

Your hair gets caught, a few thorns digging into your skin, one catching onto the skin of your cheek.

“Ugh,” you complain quietly.

Between the foliage, you begin to make out the figure upon the approaching horse.

“Gwaine!”

You smile in relief, your pounding heart beginning to settle back into your heaving chest. Gwaine is one of the few people you trust within the city walls, having known him since he was a boy. He is the blacksmith’s son, currently serving as his apprentice.

You spring out of the bush, startling Gwaine’s horse but he quickly reigned her back in.

“My lady,” he nods with an amused look.

You stand awkwardly for a moment, knowing you probably looked like a disaster.

Gwaine motions towards his own hair, near his ear. “You’ve got…”

“Oh!” You quickly snatch a leaf out of your locks. “Thanks.”

He eyes you, scanning your disheveled appearance from head to toe, before looking over at the patrolling guards and then back at you.

“Do you require some sort of… uh- assistance, my lady?” He asks as if he doesn’t want to know what you’re up to this time.

Poor Gwaine. One way or another you’d always managed to drag him into your various schemes over the years. But you’d never let him take the fall for any of your antics. Never.

Doesn’t stop him from fearing the day he’d once again see you with that same mischievous, faux innocence on your face. Which was more often than you cared to admit.

He knew your look of trouble like the back of his hand.

You jolt in realization and look past him, searching for any sign of the Mandalorian.

“You know,” you sigh a little dramatically once you realize the coast is pretty much clear. “I really shouldn’t drag you into affairs of the royal family. I’ll just leave you be—”

“What is it?” He cuts through the bullshit.

“Well, if you must know, I’ve taken the liberty of paroozing the sights of the city tonight, Gwaine.”

“We both know full well you have no liberty of ‘paroozing the city’ at this hour, your Highness.”

You try to hide your flinch.

“What’s with the formalities, Gwaine?” you divert. “Would it kill you to say my name for once?”

“Eh— might.”

You follow his line of sight to the guards that were stationed across the town square.

“You’re my friend. You can address me by my name, Gwaine.”

“You sure say my name a lot,” he says cheekily. Letting up his usual formalities. You feel relieved, giving him an easy smile. It was always like this with him— he’d address you by title, do everything by the book, and you’d have to slowly break him down until he accepts that you’re his friend. Not just the Princess. Years of conditioning made him that way you guess.

“It’s a mighty fine name,” you grin.

“Why thanks.”

His horse neighs suddenly. You both snap into reality.

���Seriously, Squeak. What’re you doing outside the castle? Aren’t you under strict vigilance right now?”

Squeak. It’s his nickname he’d given you ever since you had convinced him to help you climb to the roof of the stables when you were both small children. You were convinced you could fly (‘just like a bird!’ is what you’d told him) and jumped off to prove it. Needless to say, you were very thankful there had been a comfortable amount of hay on the ground below. Since that day, Gwaine began to call you ‘Squeak’ because you had screeched just like a bird when you landed face first in the hay.

“You heard?”

“The whole kingdom heard. A Mandalorian around these parts is rare. You mustn’t be alone when the Senator has gone to such extreme lengths to have you protected.”

Protected, your ass. Where was the Mandalorian now?

“I’m not alone,” you reply. “I’m with you.”

Gwaine purses his lips and gives you a half-hearted glare. Knowing in his heart, he couldn’t leave you alone now even if he wanted to. You’d just ensnared him in a royal duty whether you meant to or not.

“Nyla, settle down,” he murmured softly to his horse, as she began to get antsy from meandering around for too long. He looked back at you. “Well, are we going to stand here and wait to be caught?”

You give him a quizzical look.

“Well, you must’ve snuck out, haven’t you? I don’t see the Mandalorian around.”

But he’d surely be around if you kept standing here all evening.

You hustle over to Nyla, taking Gwaine’s outstretched hand and hauling yourself up behind him. Securing your arms around his middle, you smile softly at the familiarity.

“Where to, Princess?” He murmurs.

“Beyond the city walls, the abandoned watch tower.”

chapter 2 >>

masterlist!

add yourself to the taglist!

[no7er]

Bagman's Gambit Digital artwork by me, 2023

[thoughtfulobservationcollection]

[qyxzun]

𝟓┆𝕳𝐎𝐌𝐄.

❝𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐔𝐏,❞ the prowler grumbled behind his mask with a distorted voice as he slung a hook across the city's highway. He ran and leaped from the high distance before he pulled himself above the many cars from below. Miles followed behind him, his webs constantly leaving his wrists while he aimed and propelled himself in his direction.

He watched how the prowler expeditiously swung through building from building with agility despite the thick fog that started to settle in from the rain. Miles looked down to catch a glimpse of the scenery yet what he saw made him realize how this dimension and his contrasted. The numerous policemen were all over the place, but they couldn't provide the same protection as a spider-man could. It made him realize how important such an individual like himself or any spider-variant was. But if Miles had to describe Earth 42 in one word, he'd call it dystopian.

"Sooo, how far away until-?" Miles inquired until his counterpart interrupted him already, flitting faster in the air like it was a race"

"Few more minutes inquieto. (restless)" Miles G. voiced as he jumped down the building despite the extreme heights. The spider-man only sighed as he watched his twin surprisingly already ahead of him.

He persuaded him further until they reached close to an area where light didn't shine. The two Miles landed on top of a rusty tower crane as they observed their surroundings. The darkness obscured Miles' view but upon further observation, he could make out a complex building of considerable size - bigger than a baseball field. The fences were wired poorly with no sign of a main entrance and multiple banners with warnings to leave were plastered everywhere, which left Miles a weird feeling down his gut.

"This was the Alcemax," Miles G. voiced before his mask distorted, probably because of the rain. Miles looked back at him, confused.

"Why does it look abandoned?" He asked curiously. His response took a while, making his suspicions grow when he saw his twin's visage. It was indecipherable yet all he did was look and stare down on the dark Alchemax.

"I destroyed its collider. It caused a meltdown." Miles G. responded with a low tone before the curly-haired teen's eyes rose in astonishment from such news.

"How the hell did you destroy a collider all by yourself?" Miles questioned, perplexed and surprised by such a response. He watched how his stern expression turned slightly softer. "No goober or anything at all?" Miles G. looked back at him, returning his look of confusion with a slightly stern expression. The spider-man's question made him look like a fool thanks to his words, guess only spider-people knew what a goober meant...

"Didn't do it alone. Y/N helped me," the prowler retorted with a sullen tone before he huffed. "She was so smart.. fine too," he rambled like a fool in love while Miles continued to listen. The rain still cast down on the two, but it didn't seem to bother them.

"She told me how to shut it down, but guess I was just too aggressive with that damn collider, not that I ever liked it anyway," The prowler's glum face hardened more before his mask glitched back.

"Let's go," He said before launching himself off the tower crane and leaping midair towards the abandoned Alchemax. Miles hastily followed, his webs firmly pulling him behind the anti-hero. The breezy air through the night easily got Miles to swing with no worry, yet it gawked him to see his twin advance with precision and speed. His equipment and boosters must have helped him glide recklessly but competently through the wind. Either way, his talent was worth praise.

They both landed on the dirty rooftop, their shoes clicking on the broken floors and the displeasing mud created by the rain. Miles G. advanced further with his twin behind him before they reached a malfunctioning door. The texture was smooth and clean if it weren't for the grime and squalor it presented. The prowler easily opened it while Miles followed along inside the dark edifice, the barrier behind them closing as it created a loud thud. He assumed he'd be seeing nothing but pitch-black until he noted how the lights flickered, creating a path to follow despite the anxiety it could impose on an unlucky person who could wander inside. Then again, who would come here?

The place looked ghastly and left an ominous aura that would leave others a sense of foreboding. The prowler appeared unperturbed and continued forward, he must've had doleful memories upon entering here since he mentioned you again. But then again, he was the one who came up with the idea to venture inside.

Miles was probably overthinking, it wasn't his business to pry into his other version's past. He was just curious of course, you could say he was looking out for himself.

They stopped in front of another broken entryway. The spider-man wondered what could be behind the secure entrance before his wonders were answered when the prowler suddenly slashed the wired board beside them. The door automatically malfunctioned yet slowly divided, letting the two look-alikes pass through.

The two ventured further as Miles could recognize more grubby machines and equipment. The deeper they went, the less often the lights flickered. While descending, he felt the air become more chilly and as the two entered another room, he recognized the discarded documents that were scattered on the dirty tiles under the flickering lights. From what he could find, the papers depicted diagrams and reports; mostly progress about the collider or test subjects they ran on. The spoiled files must've been vital information for the scientists before this place turned for the worst and remained deserted and untouched by the people of Earth 42. If anything, the files were nothing but forgotten memories of what really happened.

No one knew the complete story behind the Alchemax's meltdown, except for Miles G. He knew it remained better that way. Who would look him in the eye anyway after he destroyed an important piece of Brooklyn that the corrupt government and KingPin funded? Who wouldn't want to kill him after he destroyed these scientists' families, all because he wanted to avenge your death? He was selfish, but he would've never forgiven himself if he had never done something, your decease would've been for naught.

You were the only one that made him believe peace was still an option in this sick unforgiven world, yet those malignant fucking scientists.. the same people you supported for the project and killed you, he'd never forgive them.

"Yo Miles!" his counterpart interrupted his train of thought before he looked up to meet his gaze behind his mask. He was a little envious to see his other version of himself slightly taller than him. When his attention was turned to Miles, he continued.

"You gotta check this out," the spider-man disappeared into another room from a two-door way after he said that. Miles G. followed him inside the eerie room, and the moment he took another step, he felt the memories flush back into his mind.

They were in the collider room, the same room where you died. If he just looked further down, he would've seen your blood stains on the debris. God forbid you'd die in a place as filthy as this. You rested in peace, in a comfortable coffin of your favourite colour the vigilante provided. The room reeked of death, some bodies were piled up behind desks, but they didn't look so harmed as the radiation must've killed them. That fact didn't make the prowler's guts churn, he'd seen more bodies than a normal teen would. On the other hand, Miles was disturbed by such a place, but he had to continue, this Alchemax was his only shot at getting home after all.

"Don't forget," Miles G. asserted as his mask fell apart once more. He had the same morose expression, while Miles looked back at him with a befuddled one. "We're saving Y/N. You leave without saving her, I'm huntin' you down." He glowered with a stoic stare.

He must've really cared for you before you died. Miles could understand, you were friends with Gwen. But after that whole fiasco with her, Peter and Miguel.. he figured you knew and lied to him like the rest of them did. Yet, why does he still appreciate how you offered to catch bad guys with him? Why does he worry about you when he barely knows you? How come his counterpart had a version of you in his dimension while he was alone? Sure, Gwen was there, but she didn't last...

Maybe if you both had more time together, you and Miles could be friends too, even if canon events separated you two.

"Still don't trust me, huh?" Miles joked before his twin's expression only hardened. He ignored his sternness as they further ventured into the ginormous test room. Behind the gargantuan glass that had already shattered, the Afro-haired teen saw the closed collider, its parts folded into each other. He didn't have to approach it to know it was dusty from how long it was unkept, as it created some tingling sensation in his nose, almost making him sneeze like he had allergies.

What he definitely didn't expect was the collider suddenly unfolding and activating. Miles' eyes widened, and he turned back to his other self. The prowler was behind a desk that was surprisingly still functioning. By the look in his eyes, he knew what he was doing but it wasn't enough to trust him. Miles rushed towards him with his webs, looking down at the electronic table with wires and buttons before looking at him.

"What's Y/N's dimensional coordinates?" Miles G. asked in a rushed tone to which Miles looked like he was utterly perplexed.

"How the hell am I supposed to know?" his eyebrow was raised as he retorted. His confused expression made the braided teen scoff.

"Aren't you her friend?" Miles G. jabbed back. It made Miles chuckle nervously. "I just met her..?" He responded to which his twin looked back at him with an "Are you serious right now" look. He grumbled and turned his mask back on. His boosters activated before he suddenly bolted like a dash through the broken glass behind the collider. "Wait f'me," the prowler asserted under his voice modulator and leaped down below the complex apparatus.

The black and red-suited hero was about to follow him yet when he turned around, the collider caught his attention. It was turned on. Miles hated betrayal and lies but with the grand machine already running, it was his chance to get out of there, to save his dad. Miles knew you were worth saving as well but he had no time left to waste, hesitation made him tap his foot against the floor. He kept glancing back and forth to see if his counterpart returned. He was taking too long.

With a conflicted sigh, Miles advanced towards the electronic desk as his fingers trailed down on the mechanisms and buttons. The collider further operated as dark matter started to appear from the formation and with that, he typed in his earth's dimensional signature. This was it, he was almost home. Just a little bit of time, and he could get out of here.

"I—Initializing co— collider.." the system announced through the speakers, its voice distorting like a broken record. Miles placed a hand on the initiator, preparing to pull on the lever for commencement.

Yet before he could even do so wrap his fingers around the trigger, a sharp pain shot through his neck from behind before his spider-senses could even get the chance to react. His spider-senses reacted late once more, causing his consciousness to slip again...

"F'r real? You were just gonna leave your twin like that?" The prowler sneered after he elbowed a nerve behind his neck, rendering him unconscious. A sardonic tone accompanied the odious glare present on his face. His animosity for the spider-man seemed to grow once he saw the collider already open with a portal to his dimension. 'He accessed it himself' He wondered.

"So much for trust and relation.." The anti-hero snarled before letting out a scoff. His hands were balled into fists yet they were careful to keep the vile of your blood safe. How did he retrieve it? Though his actions blossomed a memory and a tight feeling in his chest, Miles G. had jumped down at the bottom of the collider room earlier to reach where he had last seen your corpse. He doubted at first, but your blood was still there and surprisingly easy to liquify. Your sanguine liquid was an important key to the collider anyway.

Ignoring his passed-out identical other on the dusty floor, Miles G. entered a sequence into the commander circuit before he poured small drops of your blood on the transparent cuvette attached to the device. The black matter from the collider seemed to intensify and change as the vigilante's gloved fingers continued to type cryptic information on the malfunctioning screen, too fast to understand to the naked eye.

"Identifying the closest di—dime— mensional traces; Earth 61806N" Lights started to flicker quicker, and the ground began to shake from the frail and broken foundation below the functioning collider it was starting to create more of a mess. His mask was automatically placed before the vigilante fled at the speed of light through the broken glass to the opening portal. His calculations were never wrong, he believed— no, knew that upon entering that vortex, he would find you and reunite with you again.

Without further hesitation, Miles G. jumped into the glitching portal, an explosion muffled from his ears occurred behind. He didn't know what happened or when it occurred but he lost control of his body as all he could do was see countless stars, colours, galaxies, all impossible to count. He felt like a corpse but his consciousness was strangely still inside. He knew but didn't know what was happening. He could feel everything but nothing at the same time, what was happening? He had no clue.

The vigilante's moments stuck into infinity were short-lived when a hole was torn open in the middle of time and space. He was thrown out aggressively before his body crashed into the brick wall behind him. "joder.. eso duele, (fuck.. that hurt)" Miles G. coughed from the air that was knocked out of his body. He slowly got up, patting the dust off his clothes.

The scene was something he hadn't seen in a while; it was a city so peaceful that contrasted his own. No fires, not so much crime in the middle of the city, just normal for once. What baffled him was how he could rarely find anything Western-related. His eyes darted across the signs, all were bizarrely in Japanese. Why was he in Japan? Isn't he supposed to be on Earth 61806N? Or at least another version of Brooklyn? It was extremely fortunate he knew basic Japanese. His linguistics study sessions with you before you passed away proved to be successful.

Miles G. jumped down the tall building, leaving claw marks on walls that dropped him to an alleyway. It felt ominous and shady to a normal person but coming from someone who experienced with worst, he could care less about it. The anti-hero hid in the shadows once he heard a series of footsteps and police cars blaring in the distance, guess his first impressions were shortlived. Miles G. then peeked at the corner to see what was happening.

His perplexity didn't seem to shrink as he spotted a woman with scales, hair for live serpents and a grand tail resembling a snake. She was struggling and screaming with fury when a man bigger than her apprehended her. He dressed bizarrely, his beard and suit seemed to be on fire too. It made Miles G.'s eyes widen, how the hell isn't he affected by the flames? He could tell his grip on her was tight and secure, displaying she was a threat.

"GET OFF OF ME! YOU DAMN BASTARD HERO!!" She shrieked, her fangs showing. Miles G. watched how this supposed hero lifted her up easily, avoiding eye contact with the lady before he plastered a blindfold over her eyes. The medusa-looking woman struggled but the tall man eventually succeeded. "It's Endeavour, you low-classed villain." he hissed with a tone that didn't match the term hero at all. To say he was burning with anger might've been a fact.

Miles G.'s gaze soon left the two once he started to take her away. This place was weird, way too weird. The fact the creature and the hero's looks were normalized made the prowler uneasily out of place. Where really was he? Did he make a mistake coming here? No, of course not. He knew you were here, somewhere. He was about to walk further into the alleyway when suddenly, a large indescribable pain surged throughout his body. "Fuck—!" He grunted, almost falling down. When the pain stopped, he stumbled and leaned against the wall for support. He should've known this glitching effect would come early.

His grunt of help seemed to catch someone's attention behind him. Though Miles G. didn't possess the powers of a spider-man unlike his twin, he had some kind of danger-senses that sometimes helped him. When he turned around, he saw a man, a height that matched his own with pale hands, that stood out the most, plastered all over his upper body and his face. The vigilante doubted they were decorations after seeing how bizarre this place was. Between its fingers, his orbs were hidden behind his long, very pale cerulean-coloured tousled hair. His clothes were all wrinkled and dishevelled as if he repeatedly took them out of a hamper and refused to clean it.

"Look at this, a foreigner.. did you lose your tourist guide or something?" His hoarse voice taunted Miles G., he sounded annoyed like he just had a week's worth of bad luck. His finger crept up to his neck and began scratching, an unpleasant sound of skin ripping made the braided-teen scowl. The sound disgusted him but the fact he was picking a fight when he was just minding his own business made him realize how stupid he must be.

"What's with the hands then weirdo? You ugly behind those?" Miles G. scoffed with a pissed-off glare. He could tell from the tense silence that the light silver-haired guy was speechless by his perfect Japanese while also fuming. It didn't stop him from scratching his neck more. It didn't concern the vigilante but he was surprised he wasn't bleeding yet.

"You're as terrible as the hero society.." He sneered maliciously. "The same type of people who don't know their place, who believe they're superior.. always feeding their ego," He continued as his back curved more, both of his hands were scratching his neck like mad, so profusely. Shigaraki's nails dug deep in his flesh, why was he getting so triggered over a tourist like him? Why is he not afraid? Why the fuck was he here?! In enemy territory out of all places?!

"You're the type of people I hate the most!" Tomura snarled with disdain. He darted towards him, it felt like his body reacted without thinking straight. His animosity blinded him to rationally think before he could realize he was about to kill someone just from a few words.

All of his five fingers extended to touch this braided guy's face. But when his dry digits hit his dark skin, his eyes widened. He wasn't decaying, he wasn't dying or even groaning in pain. He was still there. What the hell was happening? Did he have an erasure quirk like that damn Eraserhead? That must've been it!

"Get your fuckin' hand off me!" His opponent yelled. Shigaraki reacted late once more as he suddenly grabbed his hand and pulled it away from his face. His grip was tight enough to break his wrist that it created a crack sound. A gut-wrenching hiss escaped Tomura's lips loudly. He didn't even get a nanosecond to realize what was happening when the figure in front of him wrapped his clawed gauntlet around the villain's throat. The fingers were sharp, they irritated and dug into Tomura's mortally wounded scratches while air couldn't enter his lungs.

Miles G. slammed his head into the brick wall, causing the building behind his capture to slightly shake. His opponent coughed and gagged, struggling in vain to punch him yet all the prowler could do was ruthlessly choke his poor throat. The anti-hero glared at him with disdain. "Shame I have'ta kill you,"

"Ku-Kurogiri! Send me away!!" Tomura wheezed, moving his head frantically in a panic frenzy. Miles G. tightened his grip further when all of a sudden, a dark violent purple fog emerged behind the choking bastard. He fell behind and disappeared but the prowler, not for one to let his victims get away, dashed inside the mysterious fog.

His shoes stumbled on the hard wooden floorboards before his gaze darted back at the light geyser-haired man gasping for air on the floor. His prowler gauntlet charged up as he began to walk over to him, ready to kill. His efforts were in vain when a sharp blade suddenly penetrated his shoulder. He let out an injured cry as the figure behind him pinned him down on the floor.

When Miles G. looked up, a tall dishevelled dark-haired man with a torn-up mask gripped the katana stuck in his shoulder. He pulled the sharp blade out with a maniacal smile and licked a drop of blood. "What the fuck? Gross..." The prowler's nose wrinkled in disgust. With a harsh kick, he sent the man flying to the brick wall before he let out a grunt of pain when he got up.

The black-haired man easily recovered but his eyes were wide open like he was shocked. 'That's strange.. my quirk didn't work...' He wondered under his breath and licked most of the blood off his katana once more. He watched how the dark-braided teen got up from the ground once more, shocking Shigaraki and himself.

"What the fuck is this.." the hero killer Stain seethed, his gaze turning to the injured Tomura.

"He's no normal fiend.." Shigaraki grunted, stumbling on the floorboards. "Ya think? Cancellation quirks are far rarer than it already is..." Stain rolled his eyes. Shigaraki winced from his broken wrist but, being the stubborn man-baby he was, tried to ignore it. When the prowler's back faced him, he rapidly bolted and placed all five of his fingers on his shoulder yet again but nothing happened.

The anti-hero grabbed his wrist from behind and threw him on the ground, creating a large gap on the floor. His claws reflected into the light before Miles G. pinned the hand-covered man down and slashed his right thumb off clean, blood spattering on the wall. Shigaraki let out a loud hiss of pain, small drops of tears forming in his eyes. He definitely couldn't use his quirk on his right hand anymore.

"I hope I'm not interrupting something.." A sudden voice appeared again. The prowler tilted his head up and saw the small monitor on top of the table bar distorting. It didn't show a face, only displaying sound. "Hm.. a new recruit, Shigaraki?" The voice answered with a calm tone.

"Fuck no." Miles G. smouldered with resentment. "Your lil' shitstain here had a problem with me, you wouldn't mind if I killed him would you?" He mocked as the voice remained silent for a few moments. A chuckle escaped the masculine voice's lips.

"How impressive, you managed to find the League of Villains' hideout and even beat my poor prodigy to a pulp. Yet instead of calling the police or other pro heroes, there's a fire in you that rages you to kill." He spoke before he continued. "What pushes you to do such a thing?"

"If all you're gonna do is yap about heroes n shit, I'm not interested," Miles G. scoffed. "You think I wanna join your stupid group? Is your head located in your ass?" He grumbled, ignoring the glitching effect that surged through his body again. It made Stain and Kurogiri's eyes widen. What the hell is happening to him?

"Hmm... a strange phenomenon indeed," He mumbled under his breath. There was a brief pause until his carefree attitude let out another chuckle. It made Miles slightly concerned how this person behind the monitor was just acting so untroubled. "Oh, you just keep getting better..." He voiced with an amused sigh.

"Another variant from another universe.. what a grand surprise, a spur of the moment indeed," The faceless man chortled, making the prowler's eyes widen in shock as well. His glitching repeated yet he could care less.

"How the fuck do y'know?" Miles G. inquired with a glare.

"Poor anomaly, with nowhere left to go and in constant pain..." the voice continued. "The study of the multiverse is indeed fascinating, to know that it is actually real has given me more opportunities." He sounded optimistic of such news yet he gave off a strong enigmatic aura despite only hearing his voice.

"If you value your life and wish to stay longer in this world, you need nothing but to stay under this roof and sojourn. After all, you must've come here with a plan. You should be thankful I'm this generous, I'll lend you my support when the time has come." He persuaded with an elusively cryptic voice. Miles G. could tell behind that monitor, he was smirking to his fullest.

The prowler moves in shadows and acts independently but without anything to support him, he'll end up caving and suffering. What other choice has this stupid voice left him? He knew it felt humiliating but he had no other choice. And with a sigh, he got off the bleeding Shigaraki and deactivated his gauntlet... for now.

"Excellent," All for Onesmirked.

"Have you tried Earth F90J?"

"What about Earth 251OL?"

"Earth 36NMA9?"

The overlapped talk from the countless spider-people in the society caused the majority of them to have a headache, yet they didn't stop. Screens, holograms, dimensional traces, DNA, they were all that these spider-variants had been using these past few hours and talking about them non-stop. The atmosphere in the spider-society used to be optimistic, and full of joy, yet they all felt on edge.

"Get every available spider-man and dispatch them to untravelled universes Lyla, I don't want a single earth unexplored!" The Latin spider-man ordered fiercely, a harsher expression present on his face. His whole body was tense and any more bad news could cause another desk to be thrown at a wall. Miguel has been hard on work the past day just to find you or that damn anomaly Miles. After he sent Gwen home with the Go Home Machine, he lost all his leads finding the two missing teens.

"Yelling at me doesn't speed up the process Mig," Lyla rolled her eyes behind her cute and pink heart-shaped glasses. Her hologram glitched away, appearing behind Margo who was looking through the Go Home Machine's archives with a semi-stressed expression. He rolled his eyes at the lyrate lifeform's attitude before he let out a groan and pinched his temple out of frustration.

Miguel needed to find you and Miles, or else it'll turn for the worst.

𝕾𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄.

[drinkpisser]

MY HESITANT ALIEN FIC, "HOW IT CAME TO BE" CHAPTER 2 ANDDD 3 IS FINALLY READY TO SEE THE LIGHT OF DAY!

thank you for waiting guys!! ^0^ took a little longer than the first chapter but hopefully it's still okay and whoever reads enjoys <3

PREVIOUS CHAPTER LINK:

(click Keep Reading to begin!)

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CHAPTER 2: PINKISH

"This dream is calling your name."

A few months had passed by since Gerard's first day at the camp. Each morning, before everyone else awoke, he would cycle the narrow pathways of the woods to clear his mind- it wasn't something he ever did back home and most would find it rather unusual.

When Ray asked him about it, he shrugged.

Truthfully, ever since the encounter with the extraterrestrial, Gerard had not been the same. Ambiguous figures would slither past the corners of his eyes, he'd stare into the stars of the night sky with an unwarrented anticipation, not even sure himself what he was looking for, and all he could seem to sketch and doodle were variants of the mothership.

This is the one, he'd think, before ripping up the paper and restarting.

On this particular morning, he impulsively turned a different direction to take in new scenery because he found repetitiveness tiring. Of course, taking an unknown direction typically leads to some dilemma in most cases, yet that didn't seem to phase Gerard in the slightest, thinking unrealistically and all.

Swerving his balance slightly, a sudden fatigue dawned on him. He found it best to take a seat on a nearby stump, surrounded by branches leaning towards him. After regaining his senses, he observed that this neck of the woods appeared rather strange, the saturation of everything enhanced almost to a neon- trees twist and turn dangling fluorescent leaves, flowers spit shades of the rainbow and the dystopian clouds above swirl as they glide across the cyan sky. He could have sworn it looked like any old mundane part of the site before he sat down! He scrunched his nose in confusion, before then reaching out for his bike.

Just as he grabbed the handlebars, a distant, soft "Thud!" sent the pigeons flying in a scare.

Inflicted with paranoia, Gerard freezes. The only action he could resort to was a short and sweet use of speech, which is no good defence against a potentially malicious opposition.

"Is- is someone there?" he mutters.

Nothing, only a skitter within the bushes.

"SomeTHING... Maybe?" He slowly creeps closer, making sure to scan his surroundings as he leans forward. Using both of his hands, he separates the bushes in which the wriggling was heard, trying his best to ignore the nettles that pierced his palms in the process.

...

What on earth?

A toddler sized ball of pinkish fuzz sits bewildered, as though it may have hit it's head through the fall from each branch above. The fuzz on it's face is white, it's eyelids a pastel blue; upon seeing Gerard a curved grin forms on its face.

Instinctively, he backed away. As he did, the creature reached forwards with grabby paws. Tilting his head, Gerard shuffled a few steps closer.

It squeaks, scurrying away!

"Oh, crap!-" he cries, and once again, he is running a little faster, like an idiot. If Gerard was a cat, curiosity would have definitely killed him by now. Nine times. Eventually, the pair end up at an oddly placed flight of stairs, it's lengthy.

"I don't remember this being here.." Gerard scratches his head in confusion, looking down at the small alien for an answer. It begins to crawl up each step.

"I suppose actions speak louder than words, huh." Once again, he follows.

Gerard looks up, doing a harsh double take. He saw the very vehicle that gave him that fright so many weeks ago- he's being led into the mothership! How in God's name did he allow himself to be sabotaged by such a freaky animal, without even judging where it could take him?! He turns back. No, absolutely not, he cannot do this again-

Oh, Jesus Christ.

The most grotesquely unsettling, inhumane guards block Gerard's exit, ushering him with oblong sniper guns. Their skulls are stretched by their oversized brains, the six eyes on each side of their wrinkly faces staring deadpan into Gerard's soul. Taking a deep breath for his own sanity, he turns a stiff and full 180 back around, each guard standing beside him.

One anomalous move and he's toast. He keeps going, shuffling inside of the entryway. Those things could probably sense the fear within him from a mile away, there was no benefit in hiding it.

They make their ways through hallowed metallic halls, dashed with blinding lights on each wall, heavily supplied with martian soldiers. Each instance where Gerard looked around and gulped in awe, his neck was nudged back in the forwards direction like the hostage he was.

"Damn, sorry. This just reminds me of Star Wars. It's neat." he adds, nodding.

Over time, Gerard progresses in apathy. Each hall began to look the same. Each monument or picture framed on the wall became old news. Bored. So bored that even starting a fist fight with his captors would exhaust him to an extreme extent. Although, realistically, with sting plastered palms it would be more painful for him than his opponent.

Without warning, the fuzzy alien leading the way comes to a halt, pointing at a circular door... The cockpit? What was it doing leading Gerard there?

The tightly sealed door is accompanied with a turn of a wheel keeping it together. As it cracks open, Gerard realises that this is no ordinary cockpit, it was a spacious control room. What amazed even further was the cosmical view of outer space ahead of him in wide, circular windows.

It looked exactly like the dreams he had prophecised since he was small; to watch as the earth grows smaller in size and float behind him, to see the ashes of the milky way beyond a printed photograph, to cross lands even he wouldn't have thought existed. Most of all, what he really yearned to do, was to take passion past human domain. He wanted to preform, create precious art- If more than one intellectual species exists in our entire sense of being, they deserve to feel the phemomena of music.

He staggers forward in awe, unable to deflect his eyes from the view beholding him. The stars shift in formation, constellations bonding together. They attempt to fabricate letters in a language that Gerard doesn't quite understand.

He turns to the guards behind him, who drop their weapons in fascination.

The large screen above the entryway begins to decode, displaying a message in green digital letters:

"This dream is calling your name."

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CHAPTER 2.5: BROTHER

Days have passed by.

In the eyes of everyone else, Gerard had vanished. Due to the emergency situation of a missing camp student, friends of his were scouted to different parts of the forest and local areas to place posters.

Ray and a newcomer called Frank were assigned the nearby town, as an opportunity for him to get to know the area better. Unfortunately, Ray was not his chirpiest self on this day. It's hard to be when your best friend is gone, but he still tried his best to be welcoming.

Frank himself was a spiky looking fella, his hair clearly damaged from all of its bleaching and dying. For the moment, it was a bright red- although, Ray had a feeling it would change soon. He had a few tattoos despite not being the legal age for them, some looked like stick 'n' pokes. His eyes reminded Ray of an excited puppy, observing all of the new surroundings and he was noticeably shorter than a lot of the boys he'd met at the campus so far. Frank looked slightly younger than him, perhaps by a year.

"What brings you here, then?" Ray asks, whilst putting up his last poster.

"Parents. They're tired of me slacking off and playing Mario Kart." Frank replies unseriously.

"Right, that's relatable," he sighs, "You wanna grab a bite in the cafe whilst we're here? I could do with a distraction."

Frank nods.

As they head into the cafe, the smell of freshly baked cookies fill their lungs, it's incredibly appetising.

"Hey, uh- I'll pay for 'em." Frank smiles briefly, "I know this probably isn't the best day ever for you."

Ray's eyes light up, taken aback by the offer.

"You're sure? I don't mean to be annoying-"

By the time Ray finished his sentence, half a batch had been purchased by a ravenous Frank.

"Here, enjoy!" he smiles, tossing Ray a couple of cookies and munching away on his own.

"Thank you," he also takes a bite, "I did really need this, to be honest."

"You needed a cookie that bad?" Frank smirks, smugly.

"Yeah but, I mean, just- company. A friend. It's been lonely without Gerard. I don't even know where he could have gone other than somewhere definitely unrealistic." Ray comments, challenged.

"Ah, sorry about that. Hopefully he just wanted out for a few days." Frank adds, overlooking the "unrealistic" part of Ray's sentence.

"He'd have taken me out with him, we go everywhere together," Ray stresses, "something happened, dammit!" he exclaims.

"Woah dude-" Frank puts an arm around his shoulder.

"Calm down, I didn't mean to upsetchya- he's gotta be fine. From the description of him on the posters, he seems to avoid trouble."

Ray sighs once again.

"Sorry, I'm sorry. It's almost been a week of him dissapearing without notice, I've barely slept." Ray apologetically rambles.

Frank pats his back and the two get back to their feast of cookies, awkwardly conversating along the way.

Meanwhile, back at campus, the head girl has a relatively difficult phone call to make. She dials Gerard's home number, hesitantly awaiting a response.

To her surprise, a voice too adolescent to be a parental figure answers.

"Hello? Who is this?" the young boy enquires.

"This is Gerard's summer camp, who am I speaking to?" she responds.

"Umm.. I'm his younger brother, Mikey. My parents are out right now- did he do something dumb?" he snickers, the grin audible from across the line.

"Not necessarily. I just need you to call us back when your parents are back home-"

"Tell me!" he puts on a serious voice, unsuccessfully disguising a chuckle.

The head girl takes a dread induced breath.

"Your brother is still ... missing. We learnt he was last spotted by a volunteer in the woods five days ago, who commented that his behaviour was weird."

Radio silence hit the line.

"Is everything okay? Are you able to tell your parents about this?" she asks.

"Uh.. what- what am I supposed to do now? Just sit here?" Mikey stumbles on his words.

"Unfortunately so until we can give any further updates. We need you to notify your parents, because it isn't looking too good- sorry you had to find out this way."

Mikey holds the phone with a slight shake, his eyes welling up. He'd do anything for his older brother, to protect him, just as Gerard would. Yet here he is, powerless on a phoneline on the one occasion that the role reversed. He felt bottom of the barrel hopeless, like a half of him had just vanished completely.

"I'm um- I'm gonna go now. Bye." Mikey shoves the words out of his mouth quickly and to avoid an outburst of tears, he hangs up.

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CHAPTER 3: ARE WE RUNNING HOME, OR RUNNING FREE TODAY?

"This dream is calling your name."

Gerard is perplexed at the message on the screen. Where's the catch? Sure, experiencing this is admirable, but what if it's a trap? And what the everloving fuck is he doing on a spaceship to begin with?

A shadow emerges from the light, so bright that it's features are barely distinguishable. It's voice is androgynous, and speaks with charm.

"You did a pretty adequate job, Lola."

It ruffles the fur of the pink creature as it praises them.

"So that's what they're called. Lola. Hmm. I was thinking of naming 'em myself but i was stumped." Gerard comments with a hint of disappointment, "But are you finally gonna help me out of here or what?" he adds, slightly nervous.

"Not yet. We must negotiate... You are the only one who can see us. The only one who hasn't wound up dead by stepping inside of this vehicle, and most importantly, you were chosen by the machine." it's words slip with uncertainty and sour undertones, forcing the situation to be creepier than it already is.

Gerard grows in fear, his breaths drawing progressively sharper. The joy of his desires being so close in reach lowered his guard, he almost forgot the potential dangers of subhuman creatures!

"What the fuck could I have been chosen for? I'm the biggest loser at this joint! Even the janitor wouldn't fall for this- if you're gonna eat me or somethin' just kill me now already and spare me the pain!" Gerard snaps with stress, agressively gesturing towards the messages and strange posters on the walls in disbelief. The alien goddess blinks, humbled by Gerard's violent assumptions.

"We want to form an alliance with planet Earth without starting a war this time. We come in peace," the goddess explains, putting their webbed hands up, "my people are suffering from our highest deficit of essential living supplies in centuries. If an ordinary, likeable human being such as yourself can draw attention to us... We won't have to suffer anymore."

"Likeable, huh. Sure. But what if I'm not good enough? What about my family and friends?" Gerard averts eye contact, moping down at his dirty sneakers.

"It has been decided by unimaginably high divinity that you are capable, Gerard. As for your loved ones, they cannot know of our meeting yet. Not until you have completed your art. In six months time, we will reconcile and you'll be taken on a venture across space and time- and don't stress, your family and friends will receive explanatory letters from us if they don't buy it from you." the figure folds it's arms.

Gerard steps forward.

"So, I could really make music that saves lives?" Gerard meekly perks up at the luminescent lifeform, wincing with self doubt.

"Even better," it suggests...

"You could make history."