#ufo sausage

[dimalink]

Planet UFO – magnetic fields and radio waves

At last a game about UFO sausage itself. By the way, you are flying at the planet, where these UFO are living. Planet is fantastic. Surface of the planet is pink and green. And it is creating an objects. With a form of spheres, squares and rectangles. It is something like trees or mountains. But, it is something another, its own.

There is a very strong magnetic field at this planet, And strong radio waves. They make a their own structures. Whole oceans. And events at this fantastic planet. It is something like Solaris. Planet ocean. But another way. Magnetic field is very strong here, and it is like some force of nature at this planet and it forms a whole islands, for example. Out of radio waves. And radio waves – can make a whole ocean. Such a fantastic ideas. Of a strange planet. The planet, where UFO sausage is living.

Game itself it is a pseudo three dimensional flight at the UFO sausage. With CGA style colors. About 4 colors. You can turn left and right. To avoid objects. Circles and squares. They are with black color. Background of surface is moving with different speed. More speed higher for background- more intense it has a magnetic field, It is the idea.

Magnetic field can be 1.8 – it is small magnetic field, slow move. And it can be big strong field. It is 0.3 parameter of background. Background moves with most big speed in this game.

And you are flying and avoiding obstacles. This is the idea. To flight a certain distance. As in a learning book about math class. From point A to point B.

Distance is at the right part of the screen. And a the left - it is your energy. Levels are described with a fantastic conditions. Parameters of field, distance. In such fantastiс terms. And even there is – standalone theme of game – it is map of the planet. Pink planet. With white lines. Intense of field. Radio waves. Don’t forget, that there is no else thing at this planet. Two powers are active here, and they form everything. It is radio waves and magnetic field. They are, of course, not like a the planet Earth. And some fantastic.

There are descriptions for these regions of the planet. Total 42 regions. It is 42 episodes. They have 1 or several levels. Maximum it is 4 levels for a region. For more interest they are separated for 8 zones. Zone s are goes about higher and higher intense of magnetic field. You select region. And next - to read description of a region you select. Number of levels. And length of them. And something else. Power of the field.

Game is a retro science fiction theme. Strange, maybe. Regions – there are lots of them. It is a big planet giant. It is rotation somewhere in a depth of space. And from those space, UFO sausages are flying.

Game has some feature. It is main menu. You make a selection of game mode. F1 – normal mode. F2 – extended mode. Mainly, it is similar. But, simply, in extended mode, it is drawn square of a UFO sausage, hitbox, and two lines along the screen. For easier navigation. Just like you inside of UFO turn on some options. And something to indicate at the screen, as additional information.

Videogame, it is fourth, in a game plan TRIA. Final. In this plan. And as I finish it, I will start to prepare 4 new games for publish. Plan TRIA is going to its final.

Program part and overview description

Videogame is written with programming language QB64. It is modern version of QBasic. Game use 4 colors, that do imitation of colors MS DOS CGA. Pseudo three dimensional about way of movement. Something like arcade. Maybe, a game about – just to have a relax. Fly at some distance. Turn left or right. And do not crash into game objects – squares and circles. Game is with science fiction theme. There are texts and description of the planet.

Development state

So, for this time, I pay attention to decoration for the game. I do programming for menus with planet map. And it has lots of text. I create all these Sci Fi theme. With descriptions. And someway decorate the menus. In a pink color. I need to check, that everything works. And, maybe, to make menus more interesting. Maybe, to draw a picture with UFO sausage. And, mainly, - it is everything done!

It is, already, game number four in development plan TRIA. So, as soon as I finish this one. I will prepare all the things. And publish 4 new games in terms of new version of pack Basic Pascal.

This game will be released in terms of new version Basic Pascal Pack games. This game and some more games will be in a new version Basic Pascal Pack. As soon as I will have several complete games. All of them will to be in a new version Basic Pascal Pack. And a new version Basic Pascal Pack will be published for download.

Basic Pascal pack - whole pack of games and programes, written with basic and pascal. It is retro. With each game and program there is a page at author`s website. There are aditional information, descriptions, pictures, arts.

Basic Pascal: http://www.dimalink.tv-games.ru/packs/basicpascal/index_eng.html

Itchio: https://dimalink.itch.io/basic-pascal GameJolt: https://gamejolt.com/games/BasicPascal/773385 Website: http://www.dimalink.tv-games.ru/home_eng.html

[beanhusk]

funny about that spaceship thing remember gramps used to talk about flying saucers and then he stopped he used to talk about aliens and UFOs and little green men then he never mentioned them again right about the time i forgot everything there's just this gap sometimes i think there's something missing like i had something lovely and it's gone i kind of look to the side like something should be there but it's not and i know i've got rose and shaun and you and the biggest sausage roll i've ever seen frankly i should be happy i should be really happy but some nights i lie in bed thinking what have i lost !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[mysticstarlightduck]

Extra 2.0 OC Favorites!

Let's go with Erin Niemand and Indigo "Indie" Lauriel, from What Lurks In The Hollow!

Erin Niemand

Color: Forest Green

Season: Winter

Shoe Choice: Knee-high suede boots

Weapon: Box cutter

Food: Potato and sausage chowder

Drink: Blackberry juice

Style: Dark grey band T-shirts, green flannel long-sleeved shirts (button up), black denim pants

Mode of Transportation: Walking

Animal: Dogs, especially pit bulls (she has one named Cooper)

Pastime: Walking around on the wood trails around Vinethorn Grove and hiking

Breakfast: Sugar-coated cinnamon rolls with latte

Personality: Loner, very introverted.

Songs:

Mockingbird - Enisa

Forgotten - Avril Lavigne

Who's Afraid Of Little Old Me - Taylor Swift

Leave Me Alone - Adam Jensen

City Grown Willow - Jensen Ackles

Indigo "Indie" Lauriel

Color: Mustard Yellow

Seasons: All of Them!!!!

Shoe Choice: Boho leather slippers/sandals with stripped knee high socks, especially in earthy tones

Weapon: Custom taser that she DIY-customized with dollar store rhinestones and glitter

Food: Her Ma's Lasagna

Drink: Detox Smoothies

Style: Hipster chic styles, usually in fall tones, with her signature denim jumper, which she also customized with cloth patches and always a cardigan

Mode of Transportation: Vintage Scooter

Animal: PIGEONS AND SPARROWS

Hobby: Watching conspiracy theory Youtube, reading about niche topics and doing her own conspiracy theory research, especially about UFOs, ghosts/hauntings and cryptids.

Breakfast: Chocolate Cereal with Milk

Personality: Layback Extrovert

Songs:

Little Talks - Of Monsters & Men

Seven Devils - Florence & The Machine

Riptide -Vance Joy

Ho Hey - The Lumineer

X Games - Au/Ra

Tagging (gently): @sleepy-night-child, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @smol-feralgremlin, @wyked-ao3, @topazadine @littleladymab,

@winterandwords, @eccaiia, @sarahlizziewrites, @illarian-rambling

@agirlandherquill, @anoelleart, @ray-writes-n-shit

@writernopal, @anyablackwood, @unstablewifiaccess, @forthesanityofstorytellers

@i-can-even-burn-salad, @cakeinthevoid @thecomfywriter

@thepeculiarbird, @clairelsonao3, @memento-morri-writes, @starlit-hopes-and-dreams @amaiguri

@cherrychiplip @thecomfywriter @thelovelymachinery

@differentnighttale, @leahnardo-da-veggie

[x-neurotoxin-x]

Your turn I want headcanons 🔫

✨ rp hcs and fun facts ✨

Jin is low-key a kleptomaniac because he grew up in poverty and his bum alcoholic parents didn't buy him stuff so when he sees something he wants he just pockets it without thought. His parents were also the kind of parents that used their kid to shoplift bc kids are less likely to be suspected, so he learned how to steal really young.

Touya realized they were trans really young and Enji wanted a boy anyway so he was surprisingly supportive (outside of the csa where he feminized tf out of them and projected Rei onto them). So they were basically raised as a boy, though if they'd actually learned about gender identity properly they would probably identify closer to agender or a demiboy. Although they're a system here so their alters identify differently- one identifies exclusively as a girl and has a lot of internalized transphobia and sexism, another mostly uses he/him, and a third uses it pronouns and identifies as nonhuman so it doesn't align with gender.

Mr Compress has a dead wife and kids and his family was one of those corny families that had, like, "Spaghetti Tuesdays" and "Pizza Sundays"

Jin tried to grow weed at one point but every weed plant died bc he can't keep plants alive for shit :((

JJ's favorite food is mac and cheese with those little Vienna sausages and crushed up chip crumbs on top. Bc his bum parents never cooked meals for him so he learned how to cook when he was knee-high by throwing stuff into a pot. He 100% has started kitchen fires

Even before the Trauma & Horrors™ got them, Dabi had a habit of longing around mostly naked 'cause they have issues and clothing irritates their burns.

Homewrecker Dabi is so funny. They've unintentionally broken up or caused strain in so many relationships all bc they're so fuckable

And they don't even like sex

Jin will have casual hook ups but he's demiromantic

Mr. Compress firmly believes in aliens bc one time he got black out drunk and saw lights in the sky, swears it was a UFO but it was actually just, like, a drone or something.

Dabi has nonverbal episodes <3

Y'know what, I've been thinking about it and I think Giran should be trans and aromantic in the rp

Giran also was a sex worker before he was a broker, and learned people say the damnest shit during/after sex so that's what kickstarted him as an info broker. He also dabbled in drug dealing/drug trafficking too. He's a pimp on the side, but he treats all his workers good and fair because he's been a worker too and he knows how shitty pimps can be.

He'll also go out of his way to help trafficking victims and abused sex workers by "buying them off" their traffickers and pimps, then if they wanna work for him they can.

Giran's so 😌

[willtasker]

I Had a Dream About You by Richard Siken

All the cows were falling out of the sky and landing in the mud. You were drinking sangria and I was throwing oranges at you.

But it didn’t matter. I said my arms are very long and your head’s on fire

I said kiss me here and here and here

And you did

Then you wanted pasta

So we trampled out into the tomatoes and rolled around to make the sauce

You were very beautiful

We were in the Safeway parking lot. I couldn’t find my cigarettes

You said Hurry up! but I was worried there would be a holdup

And we would be stuck in a hostage situation, hiding behind

The frozen meats, with nothing to smoke for hours

You said Don’t be silly

So I followed you into the store

We were thumping the melons when I heard somebody say Nobody move!

I leaned over and whispered in your ear I told you so

There was a show on the television about buried treasure. You were trying to convince me that we should buy shovels

And go out into the yard and I was trying to convince you that I was a vampire

On the way to the hardware store I kept biting your arm

And you said if I really was a vampire I would be biting your neck

So I started biting your neck

And you said Cut it out!

And you bought me an ice cream, and then we saw the UFO

These are the dreams we should be having. I shouldn’t have to

Clean them up like this

You were lying in the middle of the empty highway

The sky was red and the sand was red and you were wearing a brown coat

There were flecks of foam in the corners of your mouth

The birds were watching you

Your eyes were closed and you were listening to the road and I could hear your breathing, I could hear your heart beating. I carried you to the car and drove you home but you weren’t making any sense

I took a shower and tried to catch my breath

You were lying on top of the bedspread

In boxer shorts, watching cartoons and laughing but not making any sound. Your skin looked blue in the television light

Your teeth looked yellow. Still wet, I lay down next to you. Your arms, your legs, your naked chest

Your ribs delineated like a junkyard dogs. There’s nowhere to go, I thought. There’s nowhere to go

You were sitting in a bathtub at the hospital and you were crying

You said it hurt

I mean the buildings that were not the hospital

I shouldn’t have mentioned the hospital

I don’t think I can take this much longer

In the dream I don’t tell anyone, you put your head in my lap. Let’s say you’re driving down the road with your eyes closed

But my eyes are also closed

You’re by the side of the road

You’re by the side of the road and you’re doing all the talking

While I stare at my shoes. They’re nice shoes, brown and comfortable, and I like your voice

In the dream I don’t tell anyone, I’m afraid to wake you up

In these dreams it’s always you:

The boy in the sweatshirt

The boy on the bridge, the boy who always keeps me

From jumping off the bridge

Oh, the things we invent when we are scared and want to be rescued

Your jeep. Your teeth. The coffee that you bought me. The sandwich cut in half on the plate

I woke up and ate ice cream in the dark

Hunched over on the wooden chair in the kitchen

Listening to the rain

I borrowed your shoes and didn’t put them away

You were crying and eating rice

The surface of the water was still and bright

Your feet were burning so I put my hands on them, but my hands

Were burning too

You had a bottle of pills but I wouldn’t let you swallow them. You said Will you love me even more when Im dead?

And I said No, and I threw the pills on the sand

Look at them, you said. They look like emeralds

I put you in the cage with the ocelots. I was trying to fatten you up

With sausage and bacon

Somehow you escaped and climbed up the branches of a pear tree. I chopped it down but there was no one in it

I went to the riverbed to wait for you to show up. You didn't show up

I kept waiting

[classicrockblog1]

Richard Ian Faulkner (born 1 January 1980)[1] is a British-American #guitarist best known as one of the #lead #guitarists for the #heavy #metal #band Judas Priest since 2011, replacing original member K. K. Downing. He has also performed with Lauren Harris, Christopher Lee, Voodoo Six, Deeds, and Ace Mafia.

Faulkner was born in London,[1] and lived in Stockholm, Sweden, where he worked as a sausage seller between 1995 and 2000,[2] and learned to speak Swedish while living in the country.[3] His inspiration to pick up a guitar was watching recordings of Jimi Hendrix's concerts at the Monterey Pop Festival in 1967 and at the Atlanta Pop Festival in 1970.[4] Faulkner got his first guitar when he was around 7 or 8 years old.[5] His father played guitar and was a fan of Hendrix and bands like Black Sabbath and Deep Purple, and used to show him a few chords.[5] The first song he learned to play on guitar was The Troggs' 1966 single "Wild Thing".[4]

Faulkner has cited bands like Black Sabbath, Deep Purple, Thin Lizzy, Iron Maiden, Judas Priest, UFO,[5]Rainbow,[5] and Metallica as his early musical influences,[21] as well as guitarists such as Jimi Hendrix, Brian May, David Gilmour,[22]Eddie Van Halen, Dave Murray, Randy Rhoads, Zakk Wylde, Kirk Hammett,[22] and Michael Schenker as major influences on his guitar playing.[23]

[doctorslippery]

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[diilchasp]

All the cows were falling out of the sky and landing in the mud. You were drinking sangria and I was throwing oranges at you

But it didn’t matter. I said my arms are very long and your head’s on fire

I said kiss me here and here and here

And you did

Then you wanted pasta

So we trampled out into the tomatoes and rolled around to make the sauce

You were very beautiful

We were in the Safeway parking lot. I couldn’t find my cigarettes

You said Hurry up! but I was worried there would be a holdup

And we would be stuck in a hostage situation, hiding behind

The frozen meats, with nothing to smoke for hours

You said Don’t be silly

So I followed you into the store

We were thumping the melons when I heard somebody say Nobody move!

I leaned over and whispered in your ear I told you so

There was a show on the television about buried treasure. You were trying to convince me that we should buy shovels

And go out into the yard and I was trying to convince you that I was a vampire

On the way to the hardware store I kept biting your arm

And you said if I really was a vampire I would be biting your neck

So I started biting your neck

And you said Cut it out!

And you bought me an ice cream, and then we saw the UFO

These are the dreams we should be having. I shouldn’t have to

Clean them up like this

You were lying in the middle of the empty highway

The sky was red and the sand was red and you were wearing a brown coat

There were flecks of foam in the corners of your mouth

The birds were watching you

Your eyes were closed and you were listening to the road and I could hear your breathing, I could hear your heart beating. I carried you to the car and drove you home but you weren’t making any sense

I took a shower and tried to catch my breath

You were lying on top of the bedspread

In boxer shorts, watching cartoons and laughing but not making any sound. Your skin looked blue in the television light

Your teeth looked yellow. Still wet, I lay down next to you. Your arms, your legs, your naked chest

Your ribs delineated like a junkyard dogs. There’s nowhere to go, I thought. There’s nowhere to go

You were sitting in a bathtub at the hospital and you were crying

You said it hurt

I mean the buildings that were not the hospital

I shouldn’t have mentioned the hospital

I don’t think I can take this much longer

In the dream I don’t tell anyone, you put your head in my lap. Let’s say you’re driving down the road with your eyes closed

But my eyes are also closed

You’re by the side of the road

You’re by the side of the road and you’re doing all the talking

While I stare at my shoes. They’re nice shoes, brown and comfortable, and I like your voice

In the dream I don’t tell anyone, I’m afraid to wake you up

In these dreams it’s always you:

The boy in the sweatshirt

The boy on the bridge, the boy who always keeps me

From jumping off the bridge

Oh, the things we invent when we are scared and want to be rescued

Your jeep. Your teeth. The coffee that you bought me. The sandwich cut in half on the plate

I woke up and ate ice cream in the dark

Hunched over on the wooden chair in the kitchen

Listening to the rain

I borrowed your shoes and didn’t put them away

You were crying and eating rice

The surface of the water was still and bright

Your feet were burning so I put my hands on them, but my hands

Were burning too

You had a bottle of pills but I wouldn’t let you swallow them. You said Will you love me even more when Im dead?

And I said No, and I threw the pills on the sand

Look at them, you said. They look like emeralds

I put you in the cage with the ocelots. I was trying to fatten you up

With sausage and bacon

Somehow you escaped and climbed up the branches of a pear tree. I chopped it down but there was no one in it

I went to the riverbed to wait for you to show up. You didn't show up

I kept waiting

"In the dream I don't tell anyone, you put your head in my lap."

Richard Siken, I Had A Dream About You

[toryhagen]

The Upside Down

I met Chris’el in a dream. Angels do not have a gender. We are neither male nor female. In honor of our FATHER in Heaven we appear to humans as male.

A childhood best friend of mine was named Chris. When this angel appeared to me in his form, a sense of familiarity came across. We went way back. He appeared with another angel that is apart of those assigned to me. Pete’el was there with Chris’el for the first time in seeing them. Chris and Pete were good friends in the human world so natural these angels appeared as them. Though I have not seen Pete’el since then.

Chris’el appeared again after I smacked the Beast’s spirit within me to wake him up while in another dream. In the subsequent chase, I ran to my childhood bedroom that represents a space within my body. Chris’el was there and followed just short of my room doing a splits and becoming a barrier before the stairway leading upstairs to where my Heavenly Fathers reside within me. The Beast was not to go there.

In another dream in this series, Chris’el and I were in a home in my childhood neighborhood that happened to look like the human Chris’ parents’ home. We were looking out a window admiring the view together. I did not know at the time that was our shared home in Heaven. Our Heavenly Father, known as Christ Jesus and Son of FATHER GOD, came calling for me shouting, “Tory! Birthday! Birthday!”

The turning point in my relationship with Chris’el came in the next dream. We were lying together with me as the big spoon and Chris’el as the little spoon. Chris’el looked a bit more feminine at the time. At the coupling I was fully aroused like a summer sausage was pressed between us.

This spooning dream had me reaffirm my sexuality as a human and logically understand that dream was not in conflict of FATHER GOD’s order or will. Again, angels do not have a gender. As a human I am paired with my wife whom I love, so these dreams are not in conflict with that relationship. Angels do not mate so we are not trying to breed. However, that does not mean we are excluded from sexual relations.

I did not really see Chris’el’s face in still another dream, but could tell Chris’el was even more feminine than previously shown. As so, I’ll now refer to Chris’el as she. She jumped me and grabbed my angel unit (male penis) and we joined in a brief moment of sex like not felt on Earth. Had it been longer than the few seconds, I as human in the conscious world would have had an intense orgasm. This dream showed how much she both desires and misses my presence.

This sexual dream was a preview of when I would leave my body for my next assignment. In between missions, we had personal time to catch-up with while being transported in what would look like a typical UFO to humans. I would have spent more time with the rest of the crew but she demanded my attention.

In follow-up questions to Gabri’el (referred to in Bible along with Micha’el or me) as a human and awake, I learned Chris’el is my longtime helper and companion. The romance then made sense. I also learned the Beast was my previous companion. Being kicked out of Heaven and disowned by my Lords God and Heavenly Fathers sealed the divorce between me and the Beast.

In still another dream in the series, I was shown as single then meeting Chris’el. I flirted with her in our Fathers’ house. She was more than receptive to my flirtations and the rest is Heavenly history.

The last dream in this series thus far cemented the female attributes of Chris’el. Instead of looking anything like the male Chris of my human childhood, she now appeared in the likeness of a high school girl I took to a junior prom. Her name happened to be Kristin or Kris for short. So now I refer to her as Kris’el. In this dream, we walked closely together as a familiar couple. I asked her if she wanted coffee and in saying she did we lined up for some. In the line we started kissing as lovers do. Every kiss was felt as if in the conscious world. I wanted more after each soft sweet kiss. My desire for her became complete then and there. She has my heart and loyalty for all eternity.

Understand this, those dreams are in the real reality. This world is the temporary one built upon the spirit realm. Your dreams are a return to that realm. The Adversary gets in the way of you knowing that truth. With the Adversary aside in my life, I connect clearly to the spirit realm with those waiting for my return on the other side. I take comfort in knowing that I am loved so deeply by an expansive family. From Fathers God on down.

Know too that though Kris’el and I are coupled for all eternity, we are loyal first and foremost to our Heavenly Fathers. May our union be eternally blessed!

[dimalink]

Planet UFO – at the planet of the UFO

I am a big fan of UFO sausages. They are such round and so interesting. And this is certain about UFO sausage. For this time, you are – it is a UFO sausage. Such round. And you are flying. Just like a three dimensional space. But as a real thing it is two dimensional. Now you are at the fantastic planet. Where UFO sausage is living. And you are flying!

Main theme for a game – it is effect of three dimensional space. Or it can be described as a point of view when you are fly. You are fly forward and avoid obstacles. Obstacles – are in form of objects - like rectangles. Square or circle.

One more interesting game feature. It is retro graphics style. In game it is in use something like CGA colors. And 4 colors. Two colors go for background.

At the fantastic planet – all around is a fantastic too. Strange objects and strange surface. And you are for yourself - it is a ufo sausage. It is everything here in purple and pink. And strange things are grown or placed. So that’s why very important color - it is purple or pink.

Idea of fly across the strange planet. It is in the base of development.

Program part

Game is with programming language QB64. And it is in use game screen number 7. It gives 320 at 200 resolution. And 16 colors. But I will use 4 colors, to have it more looks like IBM PC with CGA graphics. As a base I take a program code for game Voidtrix. To have development progress faster.

One more theme for previous game – Voidtrix – it is a making a program code, which it will be comfortable to use in new games.

Development state

Now, development in the very beginning state. And it is already made a background. It is an imitation of flight. As idea – it is little squares. Which like in a chess are drawn with different colors. And in purpose – imitation of move - they change their colors.

Background is changing with certain speed. It is imitation of speed flight.

Everything else in this development – it will be programmed. For example, ufo sausage itself. It will be shown only its edge. So, like front side. And obstacles themselves. Form of one colored squares, rectangles and circles. Maybe some other game features.

 This game will be released in terms of new version Basic Pascal Pack games. This game and some more games will be in a new version Basic Pascal Pack. As soon as I will have several complete games. All of them will to be in a new version Basic Pascal Pack. And a new version Basic Pascal Pack will be published for download.

Basic Pascal pack - whole pack of games and programes, written with basic and pascal. It is retro. With each game and program there is a page at author`s website. There are aditional information, descriptions, pictures, arts.

Basic Pascal: http://www.dimalink.tv-games.ru/packs/basicpascal/index_eng.html

Itchio: https://dimalink.itch.io/basic-pascal GameJolt: https://gamejolt.com/games/BasicPascal/773385 Website: http://www.dimalink.tv-games.ru/home_eng.html

[siken-archive]

I Had a Dream About You

All the cows were falling out of the sky and landing in the mud. You were drinking sangria and I was throwing oranges at you, but it didn’t matter. I said my arms are very long and your head’s on fire. I said kiss me here and here and here and you did. Then you wanted pasta, so we trampled out into the tomatoes and rolled around to make the sauce. You were very beautiful. We were in the Safeway parking lot. I couldn’t find my cigarettes You said Hurry up! but I was worried there would be a holdup and we would be stuck in a hostage situation, hiding behind the frozen meats, with nothing to smoke for hours. You said Don’t be silly, so I followed you into the store. We were thumping the melons when I heard somebody say Nobody move! I leaned over and whispered in your ear I told you so. There was a show on the television about buried treasure. You were trying to convince me that we should buy shovels and go out into the yard and I was trying to convince you that I was a vampire. On the way to the hardware store I kept biting your arm and you said if I really was a vampire I would be biting your neck, so I started biting your neck and you said Cut it out! and you bought me an ice cream, and then we saw the UFO. These are the dreams we should be having. I shouldn’t have to clean them up like this. You were lying in the middle of the empty highway. The sky was red and the sand was red and you were wearing a brown coat. There were flecks of foam in the corners of your mouth. The birds were watching you. Your eyes were closed and you were listening to the road and I could hear your breathing, I could hear your heart beating. I carried you to the car and drove you home but you weren’t making any sense. I took a shower and tried to catch my breath. You were lying on top of the bedspread in boxer shorts, watching cartoons and laughing but not making any sound. Your skin looked blue in the television light. Your teeth looked yellow. Still wet, I lay down next to you. Your arms, your legs, your naked chest, your ribs delineated like a junkyard dog's. There’s nowhere to go, I thought. There’s nowhere to go. You were sitting in a bathtub at the hospital and you were crying. You said it hurt. I mean the buildings that were not the hospital. I shouldn’t have mentioned the hospital. I don’t think I can take this much longer. In the dream I don’t tell anyone, you put your head in my lap. Let’s say you’re driving down the road with your eyes closed but my eyes are also closed. You’re by the side of the road. You’re by the side of the road and you’re doing all the talking while I stare at my shoes. They’re nice shoes, brown and comfortable, and I like your voice. In the dream I don’t tell anyone, I’m afraid to wake you up. In these dreams it’s always you: the boy in the sweatshirt, the boy on the bridge, the boy who always keeps me from jumping off the bridge. Oh, the things we invent when we are scared and want to be rescued Your jeep. Your teeth. The coffee that you bought me. The sandwich cut in half on the plate. I woke up and ate ice cream in the dark, hunched over on the wooden chair in the kitchen, listening to the rain. I borrowed your shoes and didn’t put them away. You were crying and eating rice. The surface of the water was still and bright. Your feet were burning so I put my hands on them, but my hands were burning too. You had a bottle of pills but I wouldn’t let you swallow them. You said Will you love me even more when I'm dead? and I said No, and I threw the pills on the sand. Look at them, you said. They look like emeralds. I put you in the cage with the ocelots. I was trying to fatten you up with sausages and bacon. Somehow you escaped and climbed up the branches of a pear tree. I chopped it down but there was no one in it. I went to the riverbed to wait for you to show up. You didn't show up. I kept waiting.

[mmmmalo]

Reached Tagora and Vikare, got hung up on gay subtext.

Tagora's route, the first in Friendsim to mention rainbow drinkers, starts off with an angry driver calling MSPAR a "lumpsquirt chugger" -- a turn of phrase emphasized when Tagora asks you to move your "chug column", ie neck. The lumps in question are likely breasts, turning "lumpsquirt chugger" into "milk drinker" and thereby insulting MSPAR for being a mammal (not unthinkable on a bug planet). But the lumps could just as easily indicate balls, turning the phrase into "cocksucker" and bringing the drive-by hostility into alignment with earthly homophobia. These would probably overlap: centaursTesticle dranks his centaur's man-milk after all, the liquid whites were never far apart... Anyway Tagora continues the general Alternian-vampire trend of draining you (of cash, in this instance), and the twin epithets for "substance sipper" might hint at a homoerotic bent to the lawyerly cash-suck that intensifies in concert with Gor-Gor's anger (especially since the story features Tagora's gay kismesis).

Vikare is such a boundless fountain of plausibly deniable innuendo I scarcely know where to start. Let's mark some choice quotations:

1 . "I'm nothing but an avatar of baloney. In truth the myriad temptations and desires of space do nothing to tickle my biscuit. [snip] My interest lies in something a little… Lower down." This is Vikare confessing his deviance, that his heart (his "pump biscuit") prefers atmospheric flight to the spaceflight mandated by his society. But what I hear is "I am a sausage receptacle. Society's normative pathways of desire fail to stimulate my ass. I am interested in... the butt."

2. The ass fixation was perhaps first announced when he marks your trek to his hive with the imperative "let's get a wiggle on!" -- though the parallel routes seeming deployment of "lumpsquirt chuggers" to conflate milk and cum makes me squint a bit when Vikare treats the word "friend" as a euphemism and cautiously probes your response to the alternate phrasing "bosom companion"

3. Speaking of probing, Vikare's hive being shaped like a UFO might act to bring us close to the specter of anal probing, especially since he eroticizes the secondary alien-abduction activity of vivisection: "I would like to trust you a little more before vivisecting myself // And displaying my bleeding organs before your penetrating gaze // Which is a metaphor for exposing my portfolio" -- Though if we were to take "bleeding organs" literally within the context of innuendo (as opposed to the rawness of the inner body in general), it'd be more indicative of vagina...? Or I guess if trolls vomit blood for reproduction, the throat is also a match... he eroticizes vivisection again when he says he not a macho type who can "whip out" his organ-harvesting tools at a moment's notice, which turns us toward a phallic paradigm, but I still have some lingering doubts about Alternia being all-male, as put forward in Slurquest.

Anyway,

4. Turning "two shakes of a lamb's tail" into "two shakes of a baby baa beast's hindquarters" again orients us toward the ass

Listening to Brodemus's Friendsim playthrough again at work and it clicked that Ardata continues the association of the 3rd Eye with mind control -- previously established by the glowing emblem on the foreheads of the psychically intertwined and Jane's mindhack tiara.

[recurring-polynya]

For the AU request, whichever one(s) you prefer (for RenRuki of course):

the X-Men universe

the Mafia/criminal underworld

the circus

as FBI agents (the X-Files world perhaps)

So, I got this ask, and I immediately wanted to go for X-Files, because I was hugely into X-Files when I was a tween/teen, and I think that my actual first published work of fanfic on the internet might actually be X-Files. (I didn’t even post it myself, I was like 12 and I didn’t have the internet at home, but a friend of mine posted it on Usenet for me, I have no idea whatever became of it). Anyway, I was going back and forth in my head who I wanted to be Mulder and who I wanted to be Scully, and then I got this ask:

@ulkoilla​ said:

I though the 10 would be full in about 1 microsecond so I didn’t even try :D This is maybe not AU enough for the purpose but I'd love to see your take on Bleach world where the shinigami work among humans as if they were in gigai -> they'll have to balance the supernatural, perhaps violent elements of their life with the modern day laws and such (like in Supernatural). Renji and Rukia have ofc gotten in trouble with the non-supernatural law (meet: Detective!Aizen?) and are on the run…

It suddenly occurred to me, What If: X-Files World, but Renruki are the cryptids. And it suddenly popped into my head exactly who I wanted to be Mulder. Anyway, I am sorry missrambler, if I messed it all up, I hope you like it anyway.

Also, I somehow thought that I would save myself some trouble by combining two prompts, but then it ended up… really long. (Forty! Eight! Hundred! Words! Go to Talks-Too-Much-Jail, Polynya!!)

PS: This takes place in D.C. because it’s X-Files and also because I am familiar with D.C. and I never get to write about places I know about. A half-smoke is a local delicacy that’s halfway between a hot dog and an Italian sausage. They are delicious.

Read on ao3 or ff.net

👻     👻     👻

Ichigo Kurosaki had known that an office with a view of the Smithsonian might be too much to ask, but he had not expected to take have to take two separate elevators down to sub-basement C, and walk past a storage room, two broom closets and a weird old vending machine full of brands of snacks he swore he hadn’t seen since he was a child.

Maybe Agent Inoue has a huge lab, he told himself. Maybe it needs to be 50 meters below ground because she collides large hadrons down here or so that her work can’t be picked up by spy satellites.

He had to turn sideways to get past a rack of wire shelves full of banker’s boxes, but there, on the other side was a door sporting a handwritten cardboard nameplate reading “Special Agent Orihime Inoue.”

“Come in!” a voice called inside, just as he raised his hand to knock on the door.

Ichigo blinked twice, and then went in.

The office was cluttered, mostly with more cardboard boxes, but books were also stacked precariously on top of boxes on top of books. The walls were plastered with maps and graphs and photographs of hazy blurs in front of staircases. There was a large poster showing a UFO, with the words “I WANT TO BELIEVE” in block caps below it.

A woman with long chestnut hair twisted up into a bun and held in place with three pencils was hunched over a metal box full of diodes and transistors and other things you would buy at Radio Shack. Or rather, that other people would buy at a Radio Shack. Ichigo had never set foot in a Radio Shack in his life.

“Er, good morning,” Ichigo said, as the woman looked up and blinked at him owlishly. “Agent Inoue? I’m Ichigo Kurosaki. I’ve been assigned to work with you.”

“To spy on me, you mean,” Agent Inoue corrected, cheerfully shaking his hand with great vigor.

Ichigo bristled. Yes, he had been directed to ‘provide additional documentation on Agent Inoue’s activities,’ but that hardly counted as spying. She was known to be somewhat scatterbrained, and having an organized person around would probably be a great benefit to her. “If you have any doubts about my qualifications or motivations--”

“Oh, don’t take it personally!” Inoue replied, slotting a lid onto her electronics project, and attacking it vigorously with a jeweler’s screwdriver. “Just because you’re a spy doesn’t mean you aren’t a nice person. Also, I read your file, you have a very interesting background! Degree in literature with a focus on folk legends. Teaching at the academy for the last few years while working on your book.” She took a momentary break from her screwing to fix him with her big, soft brown eyes. “Tell me, Agent Kurosaki, what do you think happens after you die?”

Ichigo froze. “I would be buried? Maybe there would be a funeral first?”

Inoue started laughing so hard that Ichigo was sure he caught a tiny, adorable snort. “Sorry, sorry! I wasn’t clear!” She sniffed, and wiped a tear from her eye. “Do you believe in continued existence after the death of the body? An afterlife, religion-based or otherwise? The existence of ectoplasm, cold spots, spirit photographs, EVP?”

“Are you talking about… ghosts?” Ichigo asked hesitantly.

“Yes!” Orihime replied with a nod. “Ghosts.”

“We-elll…” Ichigo drew out. “I believe that people believe they observe certain phenomena, as part of the cycle of grief and--”

“Just say ‘no’ if you don’t,” Inoue interrupted him.

“Er, no. I don’t.”

“That’s okay. Are you good at carrying heavy things?”

“Am I... I guess?”

“Perfect!” She shoved the box into his arms, and Ichigo’s knees almost buckled under the weight. “Let’s walk and talk, I want to go get a reading over near Franklin Square before 9 am. We’re gonna pass a really good half-smoke cart on the way, do you like half-smokes?”

  👻     👻     👻

“Take a look at this,” Inoue said, her cheek half stuffed with sausage, jabbing a finger at the LED read-out of her mysterious box.

It was rather hard for Ichigo to see, because he was holding the box and the readout was on the other side, but he did his best to crane his neck around. “What am I looking at? The squiggles? I’m sorry, it looks like nothing to me.”

“Exactly right!” Inoue announced, waving her half smoke in the air. “Not a sniff of spiritual residue!”

Ichigo pressed his lips together. “Um… is that good?”

“It is interesting,” Inoue corrected. “Five days ago, a sixty-four year old woman had a heart attack while sitting in that bus shelter.” On every day since, I have been able to record EMF fluctuations, and on Sunday, I was able to get a voice recording that sounded like a woman reciting a grocery list. But this morning, nothing! Nada!”

“Well, uh, ghosts gotta move on eventually, right? Otherwise, just about everywhere would be haunted, right?” It’s not that Ichigo had suddenly started believing ghosts or anything, but there was something about Agent Inoue that just made you want to go along with her and see where all this panned out.

Inoue shot him a finger gun. “Or, they get moved along.” She shoved a folded paper map at him. “You can put that thing down.”

Ichigo eased the Spirit Detect-O 9000, or whatever it was called, to the grass and accepted her map. It was a street map of DC, meant for tourists, emphasizing all the local transit routes and popular attractions. There was also a great loop marked on it in orange highlighter, zig-zagging back and forth through the city. There was a little ‘x’ marked on Franklin Park, with “Tuesday, early morning” written in a bubbly hand.

“What is this?” Ichigo frowned. It didn’t seem to match up with any of the metro or bus lines. It didn’t even match with the sidewalks, it appeared to cut straight through large buildings like the convention center.

“As far as I can tell,” Inoue said, her brown eyes very solemn, “that is the patrol route of our local grim reaper.”

  👻     👻     👻

“So I actually got interested in grim reapers,” Inoue explained, once they were back in the office, “while I was investigating violent ghost phenomena.” She was eating a bag of corn chips that she had gotten from that ancient vending machine by punching it and then shoving her own arm up the chute. (She’d gotten Ichigo a bag, too, but he was too afraid to eat them.)

Ichigo was sitting at a cluttered table that Inoue had told him “could be his desk.” Half of it was taken up by a large aquarium full of rocks and a water bowl, but no life forms that Ichigo could detect. The other half was covered with back issues of “Ghost Hunter Technology” magazine. “You mean like poltergeists?” he asked.

“Not exactly. Poltergeists are noisy, but they aren’t usually able to kill their targets.”

“Kill? Ghosts can’t kill people, aside from, like scaring them to death,” Ichigo scoffed. “I mean, folklorically speaking. As we established earlier, I am not a ghost-believer.”

Inoue tipped her head to the side. “They do, actually, it just tends to get blamed on something else.”

“By ghost-non-believers.”

“By everyone, really, and that’s what’s so strange.” Inoue pulled a fat binder from a stack of seemingly identical ones, and tossed it open in front of Ichigo. “Edison, New Jersey, 2014. An elderly woman dies ‘of a broken heart’ a week after her husband dies of cancer. Coincidentally, a telephone pole falls on her house the same night and rips a hole in her house.” She turned a page. “Norfolk, Virginia, 2017. A young woman dies in what the police rule as a suicide, despite the fact that she made a 911 call 48 hours previous, expressing fear of her ex-boyfriend. Three days later, the boyfriend is dead of mysterious causes. Coincidentally, his apartment complex suffered significant damages from ‘a wild cougar.’”

Ichigo squinted at the pictures. The walls of the building were scored with what did appear to be scratch marks. “Hell of a cougar.”

“Exactly! And I’ve got dozens of these historic cases. But about four months ago, I was able to investigate one myself-- a young man named Joe Wallace. He lives here in the city, over near Dupont Circle. Wallace had cut off his toxic dad years ago, and refused to visit him in the hospital as he was dying. Four days after his father’s death, a truck crashes into his house in the middle of the night and then drives away before the police can arrive.”

“And he died.”

“No!” Inoue held up one finger. “Scratches and bruises, but he doesn’t die!”

“Okay, great. So what does he remember?”

“He remembers a truck crashing into his house.”

Ichigo scratched his chin. “I am confused.”

“Look at this!” Inoue stabbed a finger at the pictures. “These are claw marks, not vehicular wreckage! There’s damage on the second story window! Wallace had scratches and defensive wounds, as if he had been fending off an animal! And look here, at the damage to the walls of the bedroom!”

“What am I looking at?” Ichigo asked, squinting at a photograph that looked like it had been blown up past the point of recognition.

“There were cuts and slashes in the walls and bedding as though someone had been fighting with a sword.”

“Like a Medieval Times sword? Was the guy a Medieval Times enthusiast?”

“More consistent with a katana. Do you like Medieval Times?”

“No one likes Medieval Times.”

“I like Medieval Times. You’ve probably never even been. But back to the ghost! Why would Wallace remember a truck crashing into his house, when nothing about the scene is consistent with that story?”

“He was...lying?”

“His memories were replaced.”

“His memories were replaced,” Ichigo echoed.

“Yes.”

“By… aliens?”

Orihime heaved a deep sigh. “By a grim reaper.”

“A grim reaper with a samurai sword.”

“How on earth did you come to this conclusion?”

Inoue raised one eyebrow. “Because when I placed him under hypnosis, Wallace didn’t remember anything about a truck. He did remember a monster with batwings and a mask made of bone and his dead father’s voice who tried to kill him, except that he was saved by a tall man dressed in black. The man had bright red hair and fought the monster with a sword that was also a whip and then he wiped Wallace’s memories.”

Ichigo stared at her. “You can hypnotize people?”

Inoue gave him a long-suffering face. Ichigo had the sudden flash that he was going to be seeing that face a lot in the days to come. “Yes, I am a certified hypnotist.” Inoue’s phone suddenly started playing “Tubular Bells”. “Oops, that’s an alarm. Come on, we have a meeting with some important people. Do you like diners?”

  👻     👻     👻

Agent Inoue apparently did not care for public transit, but she walked very quickly. Ichigo was concentrating so hard on keeping up with her that he nearly collided with her back when she stopped very suddenly.

“You don’t mind if we make a quick stop, do we?” Inoue asked.

“You said the meeting was with important people.”

“Oh, don’t worry about them!” Inoue pursed her lips. “You see that bodega right there?”

They were in a part of downtown that was mostly mid-to-upscale restaurants and government buildings and FedExes. But sure enough, there was a dingy little bodega nestled between a Mexican-Indian fusion place and an Au Bon Pain, the windows stuffed with t-shirts from the last administration and a variety of cell phone chargers. The overhead sign read “Urahara Shop.”

“Y...eah…” Ichigo replied.

“That place is a hotbed of supernatural activity.”

“Is it?” Ichigo asked.

“I am almost positive that it is a supply point and meeting place for grim reapers, monster slayers, cryptids, alien hunters, and lycanthropes, but the owner is on to me.”

“I see,” Ichigo said levelly.

“Can you go in and pretend to be a customer? They have lots of good candy you can look through. Inoue dug in her purse and came up with a fiver. “Here. Buy a scratch ticket or something.”

“I’m not buying a scratch ticket, they’re a scam.”

“If the big guy is working the counter, he’ll glare at you until you buy something, so be prepared.”

As Ichigo pushed open the door, he realized he’d never actually agreed to any of this. Agent Inoue’s secret hypnosis powers, once again. Whatever. It was a bodega, there were a thousand of them in DC. They all had the same Nats t-shirts and coffee mugs with pictures of the Washington Monument on them. Ichigo pretended to be interested in a rack of comics. He tended to prefer indy comics over the big publishers himself, but even so, he didn’t recognize any of the books. Maybe they were by local authors.

Up at the front of the shop, a tiny, dark-haired woman was giving whatfor to the man behind the counter, a tall fellow with pale, straw-colored hair sticking out in tufts from under the saddest hat Ichigo had ever seen, a shapeless, battered bucket, striped green and white.

“Well, I can sell you a new battery for your phone, Miss Kuchiki, maybe that would help.”

“Not if it only lasts as long as the last one you sold me! I really need to get in touch with my partner, except that even if I could get my phone working again, his battery is probably dead because everything you sell is the same crap!”

“Ah, that’s too bad! You know, I think Mr. Abarai was in here a few days ago… I wasn’t in at the time, but Jinta said he came in, asking about…”

The man trailed off, and Ichigo glanced up to see the shopkeeper looking directly at him.

“...metrocards. But as you know, we don’t sell metrocards anymore.”

The woman made an aggravated noise. “You’re so useless! If I write him a damned note, will you give it to him if he comes in?”

“Oh, of course! Anything for you, Miss Kuchiki!”

The conversation trailed off as the woman hunched over the counter to angrily scratch out a note.

Ichigo stuffed the comic he was flipping through back on its rack. He skipped the enormous display of bedazzled flip-flops and started perusing the surprisingly extensive selection of gum.

“Here!” the woman finished and shoved her note at the shopkeeper. “You’re the worst, you know that?”

“Have a wonderful day!” the shopkeeper tootled, giving her a little finger wave.

Ichigo felt bad for the woman. “Er, excuse me?” he said as she passed.

She turned to scowl at him. For such a tiny person, she seemed to contain a remarkable amount of rage.

“Do you need to call someone? You can use my phone, if you’d like.” He held it out like an offering.

The woman blinked at him for a moment.

“I didn’t mean to be nosy! You were just kind of loud and you sounded worried about your, um, partner.”

“I’m not worried about him, I just need to find him.” Her face softened. “Thanks, Mister, but I can’t reach him on a regular phone. Don’t worry, I’ll track him down eventually.” She turned to leave, then stopped to jab an accusatory finger at Ichigo. “And that’s professional partner, not… you know! Whatever!” She stomped out.

What a strange, tiny person.

Ichigo selected a gum and walked up to the counter.

“Oooh, dragonberry lime, good choice!” the man trilled. “Anything else I can get you? Bottled water? Fanny pack? Spare phone battery?”

“I’ll pass,” Ichigo replied dryly.

“I imagine it’s against FBI policy to let a stranger use your cell phone,” the shopkeeper said sweetly.

Ichigo’s brows furrowed. “This is my personal phone. And how did you…?”

The man gave a chortling laugh that sent shivers down Ichigo’s spine. “Because headquarters is three blocks away and only an FBI agent would wear a suit that square.”

Ichigo took his change and his gum and shoved them both in his pocket. “Yeah, well, your hat sucks.”

The man laughed harder. “Doesn’t it, though?”

Once he was outside again, Ichigo handed Inoue the gum and her change. “The owner of that place is a creep.”

“The guy in the green and white hat?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s Urahara. You’re right, he’s the owner. Were there any other customers?”

“Just the short lady. You must have seen her come out. She was ripping Urahara a new one for some dodgy cell phone battery he sold her. I think she must have been NSA or something. She said she was trying to get ahold of her partner, but she needed a special phone.” As he said it, Ichigo realized it would be pretty odd for an NSA agent to be buying cell phone batteries from some shady bodega.

“No one came out,” Inoue replied.

“She definitely did! I heard the bell over the door ring.”

Inoue regarded Ichigo very seriously. “Agent Kurosaki. I was standing here the whole time. You were the only person who went in or out.” She looked at the gum. “Ooh! Dragonfruit lime! Do you want some?”

  👻     👻     👻

They were late to the meeting.

Two men were waiting for them in the back corner booth. One of them had pinched, pointy features and piercing blue eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. His chin-length haircut was pretty dramatic, but not as dramatic as his pure white trench coat. A cup of black coffee sat on the faded Formica table in front of him, but it didn’t look like it had been touched.

His companion was an enormous, good-looking Latino who was shoveling pancakes into his face.

“Inoue,” the dramatic guy said. “Who’s this?”

“This is my new partner, Kurosaki,” Inoue replied. “Kurosaki, this is Uryuu Ishida,” she indicated the white trenchcoat guy, “and Chad,” Mr. Pancakes.

“Also known as the ‘Lone Archers,’” Ishida specified. “We are apolitical actors who are interested in revealing the truths that are regularly hidden from the general populace by secret forces that conspire within the machinery of the American government.”

“You can just call me Chad,” said Chad.

“Good morning!” the waitress said. “Can I get you folks anything?”

“Oh, yes! I’m getting mozzarella sticks! Do you like mozzarella sticks, Kurosaki? They’re so good here!”

“So’re the pancakes,” added Chad.

“I’ll just have a coffee,” Ichigo announced. He glanced at Ishida’s cup. “Black.”

“Double mozzarella sticks, please!” Inoue chorused. “And a cherry coke!” She leaned over to Ichigo and spoke out of the side of her mouth. “I’ll give you a mozzarella stick.”

“Do you want some pancake?” Chad offered to Ishida. “I never think to offer.”

Ishida waved him off with a hand. “Agent Inoue. At great personal peril, I was able to obtain a sample of the item we discussed.” He slid a small paper packet across the table. “There are two tablets inside, but one should be sufficient for your purposes.” Ishida leaned forward, his mouth set in a firm line. “I was cautioned very strongly against using this, unless one had a firm plan for handling the… consequences.”

“I understand,” Inoue replied, stuffing the envelope into her purse.

Ichigo wanted to ask more questions, but the conversation shifted very quickly to some USGS floodplain maps that Ishida wanted Inoue to obtain for him that were apparently not available from the public webportals, allegedly because of filesize. Ichigo could practically hear the air quotes around the word “filesize.”

“We’re going to look for Jersey Devils next weekend,” Chad explained, sounding pretty excited about it.

“There’s only one, Chad,” Ishida corrected. “It’s just ‘Jersey Devil.’”

“There could be more than one,” Chad shrugged.

Thirty minutes later, they departed. Inoue had an order of mozzarella sticks in her purse. Ichigo had an armload of backissues of the Lone Archers’ ‘zine, which was, conveniently enough, titled The Lone Archer. There was no doubt in his mind that at least Ishida was completely off his rocker. The jury was still out on Chad… he struck Ichigo as the sort of guy who just went along with Ishida’s nonsense because he was a good friend and also liked taking camping trips and doing layout for ‘zines.

“So what was that thing they gave you?” Ichigo pestered. The idea of that little paper packet had been burning a hole in his brain the entire time.

“You busy tonight?” Inoue asked, raising an eyebrow slyly. “Between 10 and 11?”

“What are we doing?” Ichigo asked cautiously, wondering if he would be able to charge his time.

“We’re going to try and attract an angry ghost.”

  👻     👻     👻

“Are you… sure this is… a good idea?” Ichigo asked for the sixteenth time, as Inoue focused the thermal camera on him.

They were in an old, abandoned lot that had formerly served as a Metro service facility. It was pretty spooky all on its own, filled with train cars too dilapidated for salvage.

It was 10:25pm. Inoue had set up no less than 17 different pieces of ghost detection equipment. Ichigo was questioning his life choices.

“You told me you don’t believe in ghosts. If ghosts don’t exist, then what could possibly go wrong?” Inoue posed.

“Well… that’s true,” Ichigo granted. “And, for the record, I still do not believe in ghosts. But in the Pascal’s wager sense of things, I am considering the ramifications of what happens if there are ghosts that exist, regardless of my belief in them.”

“And?” Inoue asked.

“Well, you said that these ghosts have hurt and killed people before. It seems like trying to attract one without having any method of, um, fighting it, seems kind of… irresponsible?”

“Ah, but you see, I’ve specifically picked this time and location to coincide with the grim reaper patrol routes I’ve been mapping out. Our friendly neighborhood psychopomp ought to show up just on schedule to fight the angry ghost for us. We’re doing them a favor, as I see it.”

“How so?” Ichigo exclaimed.

“It’s not like we’re creating an angry ghost out of nowhere. We’re just attracting an existing one to our location. We’re saving the grim reaper the trouble of having to hunt it down.”

Ichigo pinched the bridge of his nose. Why was it so difficult to argue with Inoue? Possibly because she was so incredibly earnest in all her beliefs, and all her arguments were in completely good faith, it’s just that her logic came from some other dimension. This woman has solved multiple, high-profile murders, including several that were ice cold, Ichigo reminded himself. So she’s quirky. I am sure I can learn a lot from her.

“Okay, everything is in place!” Inoue announced, placing her hand on her hips. “Go hide behind that pile of moldy seats!”

Inoue took Ichigo’s place at the center of her recording equipment. “Agent Orihime Inoue speaking,” she said, for posterity. “It is 10:28pm. I am crushing one tablet of a substance called ‘Hollow Bait.’” She crunched the little white tablet, which looked an awful lot like an Alka-Seltzer, between her fingers, and then made a flying leap for the rotting pile of damp, orange upholstery that Ichigo was crouched behind.

“So, just out of curiosity,” Ichigo started. “How long would we have to wait, theoretically, with nothing happening, before we would declare this a bust?”

Inoue pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Usually, I would give it about two hours, but if you’ve got somewhere to be, I don’t mind if you leave early. It is nice to have company for a change.”

“No, I don’t have anywhere else to be,” Ichigo replied. “I mean… sleeping, I guess.”

Inoue gave a charming little laugh. “I don’t sleep very well. And hunting for ghosts is more interesting than most of the stuff on Hulu.”

The way that she said it gave Ichigo the distinct impression that Inoue was, well, lonely. But that didn’t seem correct. She was weird, sure, but she was also friendly and talkative, and, er, well, she was extremely cute. Surely she had tons of friends.

“How’d you get into ghost hunting, anyway?” he tried to be conversational.

“Hmm,” Inoue hummed noncommittally. “Let’s just say there was an incident in my teen years, where my memories don’t match up to the property damage.”

Oh. Ichigo wondered if he should apologize, when suddenly, a cold chill ran down his spine and a sound like a roar echoed in his ears, except he didn’t actually hear anything. “Did you hear that?” he gasped.

“It’s the EMF detector,” Inoue nodded, scrambling for the reader and Ichigo realized he could hear a faint beeping.

“No, not the beeping, it was like a… a… scream…”

“You heard a scream?”

“I didn’t exactly…” Ichigo trailed off as he heard two more, coming from different directions. “There’s more than one. Monster screams. Not human screams.”

Inoue stared at him, eyes wide. “I don’t hear anything. Have you ever been tested for latent psychic ability?”

There was a sudden change in the air pressure, and a fetid, rotting smell, even worse than the Metro seats. Ichigo grabbed Inoue by the shoulders and rolled out of the way, just as the pile of junk they had been crouched behind compacted like it had been through a car crusher. Or smashed by a giant foot.

“Whoa!” Inoue exclaimed, trying to push Ichigo off of her so she could see what was going on.

Ichigo blinked through the night. He couldn’t see anything, but there was an area of space that looked thick and hazy, like it wasn’t refracting the harsh glow of the sodium street lights quite correctly.

“We have to get out of here,” Ichigo gasped.

“Can you see it?” Inoue asked, her eyes wide and excited.

“Not-- not really,” Ichigo replied, pulling at her arm. The air blurred, and Ichigo had the sense the thing was jumping at them. He could tell it was fast, but he couldn’t see it, he didn’t know what to--

“Howl, Zabimaru!”

It was both there and not quite there, a liquid blade made of glass and starlight, that snapped through the air at the invisible thing. The monster bellowed, and whipped around, charging at a dark figure standing atop one of the old Metro cars.

“Pick on someone your own size, ugly!” the man bellowed, and as Ichigo squinted, he realized that their savior was dressed all in black. He was tall, and his hair was pulled back in a spiky ponytail. It was bright red. He was also wearing sunglasses, even though it was the middle of the night. They were pushed up on top of his head, to be fair, but Ichigo had a feeling this detail would stick with him.

“You can see that guy, right?” Ichigo asked Inoue desperately. “The guy who’s fighting the ghost? The guy that looks just like the guy in your report?”

“There’s a guy?” Inoue asked. “No. Where is he? Can you usually see ghosts?”

“I don’t even believe in ghosts!”

“Well, maybe you don’t believe in them because you can see them and you don’t want to, did you ever think of that?”

“I don’t think now is the time to interrogate my personal traumas!”

Suddenly, there was another drop in pressure, and Ichigo had the sense of heavy breathing and sharp teeth. “Inoue. I think there’s another one.”

“Well, can you get the guy to come fight this one, too?”

“He seems busy,” Ichigo squeaked.

Something black flashed by his vision, and there was a loud crack and a sound of something screeching in pain. A second dark-clad person had arrived, landing softly on sandaled feet. There was the same unreality to her, a sense that she wasn’t entirely there, as well as a certain familiarity that Ichigo couldn’t place. Her sword was bright in the darkness, like moonlight reflecting on snow.

“Oi, there you are, you big dummy!” she shouted at the first man and Ichigo realized with a jolt that it was the angry woman from the bodega. “I’ve been looking for you for four days!”

“I had a problem with my gigai and maybe you should check your texts once in a while!” the tall guy shouted back. Ichigo refused to think of him as a grim reaper. A grim reaper would not wear sunglasses.

“My phone died!”

“Can we-- ow! -- discuss this later? I’m glad you’re okay, I missed you. Why are there so many Hollows in this train yard?”

“You’re such a sap! And the Hollows are here because some stupid humans got ahold of some Hollow bait.” The woman turned, and glared at Ichigo. Her eyes burned with blue flame, like the burner of a gas stove.

That would have been the last thing Ichigo remembered, if he had actually remembered it, or any of the things that came before it.

  👻     👻     👻

Ichigo was sitting at his desk.

Inoue was sitting at her desk.

The sun was streaming in the window. The clock on Ichigo’s phone read 7:12am.

Inoue frowned. She examined a coffee cup on her desk. She took a hesitant sip, and then made a face. “Why are we here?” she wondered softly.

“I hate to pull an all-nighter,” Ichigo said, stretching, “but it sure does feel good to be caught up on paperwork!”

Inoue regarded him. “Kurosaki,” she said, “how long have you worked here?”

Ichigo frowned. “Well, I guess this is my second day.”

“Right. So… how much paperwork did you have to catch up on?”

Ichigo blinked. He very distinctively recalled working through the night-- his hand cramping, the incredibly spicy Thai food they’d ordered, Inoue’s seemingly infinite Boy Bands of the 90’s playlist. “I… was helping you, I guess?” Come to think of it, why was he filling out paperwork by hand, anyway? His laptop sat next to him, the lid closed. It wasn’t even plugged in.

Inoue’s fist slammed down onto her desk. “Gosh darnit! They wiped my memories again!!”

[ophelia-coeur]

All the cows were falling out of the sky and landing in the mud. You were drinking sangria and I was throwing oranges at you, but it didn’t matter. I said my arms are very long and your head’s on fire. I said kiss me here and here and here and you did. Then you wanted pasta, so we trampled out into the tomatoes and rolled around to make the sauce. You were very beautiful. We were in the Safeway parking lot. I couldn’t find my cigarettes You said Hurry up! but I was worried there would be a holdup and we would be stuck in a hostage situation, hiding behind the frozen meats, with nothing to smoke for hours. You said Don’t be silly, so I followed you into the store. We were thumping the melons when I heard somebody say Nobody move! I leaned over and whispered in your ear I told you so. There was a show on the television about buried treasure. You were trying to convince me that we should buy shovels and go out into the yard and I was trying to convince you that I was a vampire. On the way to the hardware store I kept biting your arm and you said if I really was a vampire I would be biting your neck, so I started biting your neck and you said Cut it out! and you bought me an ice cream, and then we saw the UFO.

These are the dreams we should be having. I shouldn’t have to clean them up like this. You were lying in the middle of the empty highway. The sky was red and the sand was red and you were wearing a brown coat. There were flecks of foam in the corners of your mouth. The birds were watching you. Your eyes were closed and you were listening to the road and I could hear your breathing, I could hear your heart beating. I carried you to the car and drove you home but you weren’t making any sense. I took a shower and tried to catch my breath. You were lying on top of the bedspread in boxer shorts, watching cartoons and laughing but not making any sound. Your skin looked blue in the television light. Your teeth looked yellow. Still wet, I lay down next to you. Your arms, your legs, your naked chest, your ribs delineated like a junkyard dog's. There’s nowhere to go, I thought. There’s nowhere to go. You were sitting in a bathtub at the hospital and you were crying. You said it hurt. I mean the buildings that were not the hospital. I shouldn’t have mentioned the hospital. I don’t think I can take this much longer. In the dream I don’t tell anyone, you put your head in my lap. Let’s say you’re driving down the road with your eyes closed but my eyes are also closed. You’re by the side of the road. You’re by the side of the road and you’re doing all the talking while I stare at my shoes. They’re nice shoes, brown and comfortable, and I like your voice. In the dream I don’t tell anyone, I’m afraid to wake you up.

In these dreams it’s always you: the boy in the sweatshirt, the boy on the bridge, the boy who always keeps me from jumping off the bridge. Oh, the things we invent when we are scared and want to be rescued Your jeep. Your teeth. The coffee that you bought me. The sandwich cut in half on the plate. I woke up and ate ice cream in the dark, hunched over on the wooden chair in the kitchen, listening to the rain. I borrowed your shoes and didn’t put them away. You were crying and eating rice. The surface of the water was still and bright. Your feet were burning so I put my hands on them, but my hands were burning too. You had a bottle of pills but I wouldn’t let you swallow them. You said Will you love me even more when I'm dead? and I said No, and I threw the pills on the sand. Look at them, you said. They look like emeralds. I put you in the cage with the ocelots. I was trying to fatten you up with sausages and bacon. Somehow you escaped and climbed up the branches of a pear tree. I chopped it down but there was no one in it. I went to the riverbed to wait for you to show up. You didn't show up. I kept waiting.

- I Had a Dream About You, Richard Siken

[neonun-au]

ult group tag

tagged by: @hyucksie ty denise~!

tagging: @fuckjoong @en-see-tee @byutafy @sehunniepot and whoever else is interested

rules: answer the following questions for your ult group (i will just do nct for it haa)

who was your first bias? doyoung for a little while ‘cause...i feel like he’s almost everyone’s first. poor doie

who is your bias now? johnny, at this present moment in time

what was the first mv you watched by them? the 7th sense and i loved it, but it wasn’t until i watched kick it in june that i actually got into them

what’s your favorite mv? oof, maybe highway to heaven or superhuman (cause the editing is unreal) 

if you could listen to one of their songs for the rest of your life, which would it be? sun & moon

who would you want to see them collab with? umm, i’m really not sure tbh hahaa my brain said bjork for some reason and i think that would be HILARIOUS so bjork

what mv concept do you want to see them do? farmers

have you ever had a dream with any of the members in it? LOTS of them. i have a lot of wild dreams. but they’re usually dumb. pretty sure it was some sci fi adventure thing with mark...

if you could spend the day with one member, who would it be and what would you do? johnny, maybe, cause i think we would get along. (or jungwoo and we could just do a food tour). maybe we would just...honestly i don’t know. spontaneous road trip to all the dumb things in my province, I guess haha go see the worlds largest sausage, and the ufo landing pad

which member do you think you’d get along with the best? i really don’t know, i tend to get along with most people but i think maybe...johnny? taeyong?

which member do you think you would argue with? i will argue with everyone i live to argue. but if you’re talking serious, actual undercurrents of issues there maybe...yuta? renjun? oh no it’s mark haha it would be mark

if you had to let one member scroll through your tumblr, who would it be? whichever member is the worst at english 🙃

[pollylynn]

Title: Hybrid Vigor WC: 800

“Are you saying you think that this is real?” — Kevin Ryan. Close Encounters of the Murderous Kind (3 x 09)

If she’s said it once, she’s said it a million times: She is not Nikki Heat But there are days when she is fairly certain that she is somehow living in the confines of a work of fiction, courtesy of Richard Castle’s erratic brain. The day they find Marie Subbarao’s body is definitely one of them. 

She has a baffled ME and a vic who does, indeed, look like an overstuffed sausage—an image caption by the Author himself that’s so apt, she may never eat again. Events unfold in almost game-like fashion, and that’s his influence, too, no doubt. The case keeps almost, but not quite, pulling in the direction of little green men, and there’s a whole lot of back-and-forth smirking going on. 

Marie is an astrophysicist with a SETI grant to her name—smirk point Castle. But she mostly analyzes data for NASA and, oh yeah, her office is around the corner from something that simulates the vacuum of space—two smirk points to Beckett. It goes on and on like that. It’s ridiculous. 

There’s a certified UFO kook-cum-con artist with motive, and there’s nothing she doesn’t love about that, right up until the moment he spills a story about their level-headed, kook-averse vic having some kind of break with reality in the days before her death. And oh, by the way, there’s a shadowy, furniture-stealing government conspiracy, too, because the word excess is not in the vocabulary of Richard Castle, who is clearly writing her life right now. 

There are not one, but two, off-the-wall murder weapons within shouting distance of their body drop, except neither one is the murder weapon. There is a mystery trip taken by their vic to another facility with the kind of telescope the would give her eyes to go with the ears of her own. There is an honest-to-God bright light in the night sky. Her car, her phone, her watch come to a standstill, and she is about to take stern measures indeed to rein in her own personal Walter Mitty. 

But before she can, they are abducted. She pictures him lobbing zingers at some agent made of granite who is trying to get information out of him. She tries to imagine him as he would imagine himself, cool and collected, sarcastic and annoying. She tries to imagine herself as he would imagine her, and her head throbs with the twisted logic of that, and whatever the hell these clowns knocked her out with. Her head throbs at the intimidation light, because what secret agency shakedown would be complete without a cliché bad guy intimidation light?

She wants to tell him to call cut or whatever it is writers do when their story has spun this far out of control. She wants to tell him that no one is going to buy anything about the story going on inside his head if he doesn’t stop slathering genre on top of genre. But she can’t tell him that, because they’ve taken him somewhere. They’ve separated the two of them and her attention is awkwardly divided between fruitless attempts to extract information about her case from Central Casting Bad Guy Number Three and worrying about him. 

The divided attention situation solves itself. The last thing she remembers before blackness rises up to meet her is a ludicrous, pistol-grip auto syringe that looks like it was recently picked up from a  prop table on the set of The Third Man. She groans as she registers the fact that the definite noir touches here mean they’re into genre number three, at least, and he really should see a doctor for his mash-up problem. 

She remembers that thought. She’s holding on to it as the blackness begins to lift. She sense his presence well before she’s anything close to with it. She smells him. She feels the curious warmth of a steady, solid shoulder beneath her cheek and she has the overwhelming desire to take a luxurious, full-body stretch—the kind that curls her toes and tickles her spine in a most pleasant way. 

She’d like to give in to the urge—stretch from head to toe, then nestle closer into the pleasant warmth next to her—but even in her pleasantly weary, fuzzy-headed state, there’s an alarm bell sounding. There’s trouble brewing. 

She lifts her cheek with a barely suppressed groan of protest and finds her eyes locked on his. She breathes him in and feels the startled hitch of his ribs as he returns the favor. Her pulse speeds up and her insides flip. 

Romance, she thinks, inside the confines of a work of fiction, courtesy of Richard Castle’s erratic brain. It’s one genre too many. 

A/N: If you don’t label the thing, there’s no shelf for the thing. This has no shelf space and is not a thing.

images via homeofthenutty