#when I was on the floor I shouted

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Be wary not of the beast, but the hand that tamed it.

(Read more dog training tips over at Tiger Tiger)

[can-of-pringles]

Shout out to the time when I thought that terzomega was just popular fanon before realizing it's actually the most canon a papa x someone (besides Nihil and Sister' thing) ship there'll ever be

[presumenothing]

so we all know the drill, yeah? my keyboard slipped etc etc and thus i present: 吉祥纹莲花楼 aka LOTUS CASEBOOK (the novel) CHAPTER ONE: TASTER EDITION further aka "the first chapter, but minus the Case Exposition bit because wow noooope". note also that this is not as serious nor thoroughly-edited as some of my other TLs (nif fandom alumni may remember me from known, unknown aka this absolute unit/research spiral of a post-canon fic; this is Not That and also, hi!!). and now with that out of the way, enjoy! ETA: fixed some missing bits that got eaten while posting to tumblr + only maybe 30% on-topic footnotes over here

PART THE FIRST: A GHOST, MURDER, IN THE GREEN GAUZE WINDOW

Changzhou City, Xiaomian Inn.

The seventeenth of the sixth month, just around midnight.

It had been two days since Cheng Yunhe, the head convoy of Hexing Convoy Company, started escorting these sixteen boxes of precious goods. Though all had been well so far, he felt tight-strung with exhaustion, and despite having fallen asleep he woke up without quite knowing why.

Silence permeated the dark room.

Outside the window… there was singing.

Faint waves of sound, barely discernible, as if someone was singing; and apparently quite in earnest, too, but in an incredibly odd tone… just as if… someone was singing with their tongue cut out. 

He opened his eyes, and looked at the window directly across from his bed.

Amidst the darkness, green flecks flickered dim and sudden across that window, now far then near, and only on this one window across from him.

Outside the window, the faraway song continued, that broken tongue singing a tragic melody that no-one living could possibly understand…

He’d already practised almost forty years of martial arts, and though his hearing and sight might not be the top in the jianghu, it could hardly be weak either, but he… could not make out the sound of anything human.

As the wind whistled through the slightly-ajar window, he stared at that window with its flickering green shadows – and for the very first time in his life, he thought of a word – ghosts?

–

ONE: LUCKY PATTERN LOTUS PARLOUR

The broad daylight of a sunny day.

Bingshan Town was not a remarkable place by any means; it had neither rare treasure nor great legends, and just like the vast majority of places in the jianghu, its denizens were a little boring, its crops a tad skinny, its rivers a tinge dirty, and its post-meal conversational topics a touch lacking… far too lacking, actually, so whenever there was something everyone had to delight in it for the longest time – not to mention how that recent happening was an odd one indeed.

The tale so far: on this day, the eighteenth of the month, when the people of Bingshan Town opened their doors to sweep their stoops, they abruptly found that their only-too-familiar main street had suddenly sprouted a two-storey wooden building. This building was hardly a short one, either, fully capable of housing people inside, and in spacious lodgings no less; it was made fully of wood, and engraved with patterns unusually fine and ornate, that even a blind person could recognise by touch – none other than lotus flowers and auspicious clouds.

After a good half-day’s worth of discussion, some eagle-eyed people recognised at last how this building had “suddenly appeared”: though its structure was that of a building, it turned out that it was not connected to the ground… at any rate, this building had been pulled by someone with a cart, here to the main street of their Bingshan Town, and put it there. Everyone expressed their amazement at this, but nobody could comprehend why anyone would bother dragging over such a large building in the dead of night just to leave it on the street, or what it could possibly be for. Perhaps as a shrine for their town god? Though speaking of which, their local shrine had indeed fallen into disrepair and gone unworshipped for many years now…

Such debate continued for three days straight, up until an express convoy working at some company who happened to be coming home was struck dumbfounded upon seeing it, screeched “The Lucky Parlour!” and there and then turned to run madly away without even returning home, still yelling “Lucky Parlour!” along the way – and thus the building abruptly became a haunted house, that would drive anyone who saw it right mad.

Only seven days later, when that express convoy suddenly brought the entire convoy company back to Bingshan Town, did the masses discover that said building was not in fact some haunted house. 

Not only was it not a haunted house, it was actually an auspicious building, a super-duper auspicious building. 

The “Lucky Pattern Lotus Parlour” was a medical clinic.

Its master was of surname Li, named Lianhua.

What kind of a person was Li Lianhua? As a matter of fact, nobody in the jianghu knew either. Whether his master, his background, the level of his martial arts, his age, or even the matter of his looks: all of it was unknown. Six years had passed since this person appeared in the jianghu, and in total he’d done only two things, but just these two things alone had been enough to turn the “Lucky Pattern Lotus Parlour” into the single most fascinating legend in the jianghu.

The two things Li Lianhua had done: the first was bringing back to life the martial scholar “Lifelong Learner” Shi Wenjue, who’d been buried for many days after dying from major injuries after a decisive duel. The second was bringing back to life “Ironflute Hero” He Lantie, who’d also been buried for many days with all his bones broken after dying from a cliff fall.

Just these two incidents alone had already made Li Lianhua the one figure in the jianghu that people most wanted to acquaint themselves with, but there was also the matter of his strange house that he always brought along with him – this only made Li Lianhua more of a legend amongst legends.

The head convoy of Hexing Convoy Company led every last one of his men on swift horseback to Bingshan Town, and after three days of clean baths and devout incense, finally delivered on great tenterhooks a letter of greeting to that building carved of precious softwood: Cheng Yunhe of Hexing Convoy Company wishes to consult on an important matter.

Said letter was pushed in via a window gap.

All forty-odd men of the company waited alongside Cheng Yunhe, as if it was the King of Hell inside of that building, passing judgement––

Soon after, that building that had been so silent as to seem unoccupied let out the faintest of creaking sounds. All of Hexing Convoy held their breath, and even the rubbernecking passers-by caught theirs, too, widening their eyes to better await whatever creature could possibly emerge from this building.

The door swung swiftly open, and not in the slow swing of everyone’s imagination.

A large cloud of dust burst forth with a bang, blowing all over Cheng Yunhe, and the figure in the door made a sound of dismay, saying with great apology: “I was tidying up odds and ends, and didn’t even realise I had guests, my apologies, apologies indeed.”

All of Hexing Convoy, now covered in dust and sawdust, stared in astonishment at the one who’d opened the door with a broom in one hand; the very same broom where that bright red greeting letter was now stuck on. He looked very young, no older than twenty-seven or twenty-eight, and perhaps even a little younger than that if not for the much-mended grey robes he was wearing; his skin was fair and his looks refined, but neither was he so beautifully handsome as to be unforgettable from a glance. He held the broom in his right hand and a dustpan in his left, and looked out at the dozens-strong line outside his door with a face full of apology.

Cheng Yunhe gave a heavy cough, and saluted in greeting: “I, “Thousand-Mile Crane” Cheng Yunhe, humbly greet Li-xiansheng of the Lucky Parlour; may I perhaps request that you pass a message to him that there is a matter I wish to consult him on?”

“Ah,” said the grey-robed young man. “A message?”

Cheng Yunhe spoke gravely: “I fear we must meet with Li Lianhua, Li-xiansheng himself, for there is crucial business to discuss.”

The young man set down the broom. “I am indeed Li Lianhua.”

Cheng Yunhe’s eyes widened abruptly, mouth falling open, and in that moment every last bystander wanted nothing more than to toss three or five eggs into his mouth. Very swiftly he shut it again, and gave another heavy cough. “Your good reputation precedes you, Li-xiansheng…” 

And then he found himself at a loss on how to continue, for he had already detailed the ins and outs of the matter on the greeting letter, but that same letter was now stuck on Li Lianhua’s broom.

Li Lianhua said: “Apologies, apologies… my residence is covered in clutter at the moment…”

He raised a hand to invite Cheng Yunhe inside.

The Lucky Pattern Lotus Parlour was indeed covered in assorted junk; from nails to hammer, saw to axe, dustcloths to broom, sawdust and dust everywhere, and a few boxes holding who-knew-what. The front room held only one table and chair each, both made of bamboo and not worth even twenty bronze coins. Cheng Yunhe felt heavy doubt in his heart, but what with the sheer reputation of the Lucky Pattern Lotus Parlour, and this grey-robed man to be sitting in it, he dared not to suspect him to be a fake, either; and thus he was left with no choice but to sit respectfully across from Li Lianhua and recount every part of those fearsome events he’d encountered a half-month ago.

[––CASE EXPOSITION CUT FOR SANITY––]

Such was the tale of the “Green Window Ghost Murder” that had thrown the martial world into heated debate over the last half a month. Yu Mulan, heartbroken over the senseless death of his beloved daughter, flew into a rage and commanded the death of all the swordsmen who had been escorting Yu Qiushuang that night, alongside a kill order for the entirety of Hexing Convoy Company. Cheng Yunhe, pushed to his wits’ end, had been about to bring his family and disband the company for a scattered escape when he heard the news of the Lucky Parlour.

Li Lianhua could bring the dead back to life – and so Cheng Yunhe suddenly thought: if Li Lianhua could resurrect Yu Qiushuang, wouldn’t that resolve everything? Resurrection was not something he would have ever believed in, just a half-month ago, but with matters the way they were now he could only work with what he had, dead or otherwise, and since the heavens had seen fit to let him come across Li Lianhua, why not give it a try? After all… if the legends were true, all could not but be well.

But even until he’d finished recounting the “Green Window Ghost Murder” incident, he hadn’t heard any startling insights out of Li Lianhua, only an ah and a nod of his head.

After finishing his tea, Cheng Yunhe had no choice but to leave. He truly could not think of any good reason to remain any longer in that empty building of Li Lianhua’s, full of assorted junk and Li Lianhua’s expression full of gentle incomprehension. 

Cheng Yunhe departed.

From the second storey of the Lucky Pattern Lotus Parlour, someone said, leisurely: “Even five years later, you’re still plenty famous, aren’t you…”

Li Lianhua sat on the chair, drinking tea. “Ah…”

Who even knew what he was ah-ing about.

“Actually I’ve never been able to figure it out.” That figure descended slowly from the second storey. He was thin and pale, all skin and bones, and perhaps if he gained twenty pounds he’d be a elegantly beautiful young man, but as it stood he mostly just resembled a victim of starvation. Yet this particular hungry corpse also happened to be wearing a set of rich white robes of particularly meticulous workmanship, with the tassel and jade ornaments favoured only by those fine young masters untouched by worldly troubles, and a long sword with an unusually elegant shape to its hilt. “How could anyone in this world possibly believe in something like resurrection? It’s been five whole years, and yet nobody has forgotten those two scandals of yours…”

“Because none of them are as smart as you.” Li Lianhua smiled faintly, stood up to stretch, then picked up his broom and resumed sweeping the floor.

“Can you not sweep the floor?” The hungry corpse from the upper storey suddenly glared. “How can you possibly keep sweeping when I, the great Fang-dagongzi, am here right in front of you? Do you realise that if Cheng Yunhe had known I was in here just now, he’d definitely kneel down and beg me too ask that old geezer Yu not to slaughter his entire family? You have a young master of my handsome looks and eminent status in front of you, and yet you’ve been doing nothing but sweep the floor?"

“I can’t.” Li Lianhua said: “I haven’t cleaned and repaired this building in too long. It’s very dirty, and leaks when it rains, too.”

The white-robed corpse kept up the wide-eyed glaring for many moments longer, before suddenly letting out a sigh. “Someone like you who can’t fight and can’t treat diseases, who doesn’t plant crops or commit theft either – how have you even managed to survive all these years in such fame? I really don’t get it.” 

This white-robed hungry corpse was “Melancholic Young Master” Fang Duobing, the eldest son of the of the Fang martial family. He’d known Li Lianhua for an entire six years, long enough that he even knew exactly how this same person had come to fame – Shi Wenjue had suffered major injuries in his duel and used the Turtle’s Breath method to close his qi and recover, the local villagers had taken him for dead and buried him, Li Lianhua had gone to dig him up, and thus Shi Wenjue had naturally come back to life; He Lantie, on the other hand, had staged an entire cliff jump after failing in his pursuit of a wife, played dead and buried himself in the ground, and Li Lianhua who’d just happened to be passing by dug him out yet again. The whole world was wondering how Li Lianhua had managed to bring the dead back to life, while all Fang Duobing wanted to know was how he knew where on earth (or under it) there’d be a live person to dig up.

“I did still have some silver coins, a while ago.” Li Lianhua carefully swept the front room, then put away the dustpan. “As long as you plan well, you can still make do.”

Fang Duobing rolled his eyes. “And how much silver do you have now?”

“Fifty taels.” Li Lianhua smiled faintly. “That’s enough to use for a lifetime, to me.”

Fang Duobing tsked. “To think that there’s losers like you in the martial world, who only plan to spend fifty taels in their whole life, it’s practically a shame upon the jianghu. Had Cheng Yunhe known what kind of person you are, I’d like to see whether he still would’ve come asking for help… heh, asking a ‘miracle doctor’ who doesn’t know a drop of medicine and has to go everywhere with his house on his back because he’s too stingy to stay in an inn, to go treat the dead, I can’t believe he thought of that.” Fang Duobing rolled his eyes again for good measure, and eyed Li Lianhua up and down. “Though I can’t actually tell whether you are going to help him go treat the dead or not.”

Li Lianhua sat on the chair, fingers still meticulously fiddling away with the interlocking joint on that squeaky bamboo table of his, and gave a small smile upon hearing this. “Why wouldn’t I go? After all, I don’t know how to plant crops, or sell vegetables, and I’m not in want of coin. Wouldn’t life be incredibly boring if I didn’t have something to do?”

“When that old geezer Yu finds out that you’re a fake miracle doctor and decides to kill your entire family, Fang-dagongzi is absolutely not going to save you,” Fang Duobing said, leisurely. “Go on then, don’t expect this young master here to see you off.”

And so it was that Li Lianhua spent a whole three days tidying up inside the Lucky Pattern Lotus Parlour, packing who-knows-what into that small parcel of his, and after meticulously writing a lengthy missive temporarily entrusting the parlour to the care of “Lifelong Learner” Shi Wenjue, he set off at last.

He was headed to Yu Fortress, to see the corpse of Yu Qiushuang.

[fictional-worlds-are-exquisite]

does anyone ever get a second of 'i'm going to pass out' before your body snaps back to normal or is that just me

[softquietsteadylove]

Would you please do one more chapter for the president AU? Like Thena is holding a speech and Gil protects her from a sniper, getting shot on scene but she learns later about his status cause she is being Transported to safety?? Some intense stuff? Thank you so much love your stories never stop please!! ❤️❤️❤️

Thena looked up as Sersi approached her with gentle steps. Sersi always walked lightly but she truly was walking like a deer on a frozen lake. She had been chosen to face the slaughter. "How is he?"

She seated herself quietly. Sersi was also shaken by the events of that morning's press conference. A shooting was always enough to have anyone on edge. And for a bullet to have actually landed--wounded one of their own; everyone was anxious. "He's still in surgery."

Thena nearly curled over her knees completely in her seat. It wasn't the presidential thing to do. But she couldn't breathe. "Sersi-"

"Thena, I'm sorry," her friend whispered, leaning across the seat to rub her back.

Sersi had witnessed first hand the way Thena had cried and screamed Gil's name as she was dragged away from him for her own safety.

There was always a risk for her safety. It came with the job. But the shot was planned, came from above. Only the wind and Gil's sharp instincts had saved them all. And while he had gotten her down in time, he was less fortunate.

His name had ripped out of her throat at the sight of his blood. She couldn't control it, couldn't conceal what seeing him hurt did to her. The rest of her SS guard pulled her away and under the cover of their protection. She could remember her hands clawing to get back to him. In the end, they had picked her up in order to evacuate without her struggling against them.

Gil's body was just...lying there.

"Sersi, I can't do this," Thena repeated, nearly gasping for air. Air Force One was far, far from crowded, but she felt as if she were being tossed around in a glass jar.

"Yes, you can, just breathe," Sersi encouraged, kneeling in front of her. "He's alive, Thena, that's all you need to worry about for now."

He was alive for now. But the thought of the man she loved lying on a steel table being operated on--possibly never hearing her last words to him; it was unbearable. It was unthinkable that their last kiss had been in the office between meetings, or that the last they'd held hands was when he was helping her in and out of the beast.

How could the last time she told him she loved him be 17 hours ago?

Thena attempted to pick her head up. She blinked, but the tears were far from controllable at this point. Not that Sersi minded. She shook her head, "if he dies-"

"You can't think of that right now," Sersi tried to urge her to calm herself again. She stood, using the natural movement to ease her back into her chair properly again. "He's getting the best care he can right now. I promise as soon as we get word we'll turn right around."

They couldn't. And even if redirecting the Eagle were that easy, they were only so capable of speed. Sheer distance still separated him from her. And if things took a turn for the worse and she didn't make it in time-

"Thena," Sersi followed as she stood, unable to sit any longer. The sound of their heels was muffled on the aircraft carpet. "You have to-"

"I don't have to do anything!" It was true, that was her position as designated by their godforsaken country. And with anyone else, she might not have felt quite as bad for it. But Sersi's face betrayed immediately what her outburst felt like to receive. Thena sighed, lowering her shoulders. "I'm sorry, I just...you don't--I can't lose him."

If Sersi had wondered at all what their relationship was before - which was honestly doubtful - she certainly had her evidence now. But she came over to her again, wrapped her arms around her and hugged her as a friend, not an advisor or cabinet member. "You won't."

Thena shook her head again. She wasn't so confident, and in a rare moment like this when she could afford to be unsure, she was rampant with doubt. She hugged her friend back. "This can't be how it happens--it can't."

Sersi gave up on the empty platitudes, rubbing her back as she listened to her weepy breaths.

"I can't do this without him," Thena pulled her head up again, attempting to resolve herself. "I mean it. I can't do this - any of this! - without him. I'll go insane."

Sersi had no argument for that. Gil was her personal aide, as well as defacto security for her, and that said nothing of the fact that Gil was just the best at generally handling her. "Things will work out."

The words barely sounded like words by this point. Thena looked out the window, starting to pick at her nails. Gil would usually pick up on her nervous ticks and stop them. He could say it was unsightly for Madam President to bite her nails, and then he would have an excuse to hold onto her hand for three whole seconds.

What good was having an aircraft with the highest level of clearance in the world if it still travelled at this kind of speed?

"So," Sersi started along a different path. She lightened her tone, seating herself and looking up at her, "how long?"

Thena remained staring out the window, tearing at her finely cared for nails layer by layer. "You want the exact date?"

It was sharp and sardonic, but Sersi smiled. "I suppose not. Obviously it's long enough, though. And I'm guessing it was since before Ikaris."

That did pull Thena's attention away from the clouds below them and back to her friend. She didn't bother hiding her surprise; Sersi never talked about Ikaris in any way.

But she continued, breezing over the mention of their past with treachery. "It was easy to tell that you were close, and not just as handler and VP."

She didn't think they had been so obvious. But then again, Sersi actually had an oddly sharp sense for the dynamics people could have with each other. It was part of what made her such an asset.

Thena finally sat down again, wrapping her arms around herself, only to start biting her thumb. "It was just going to be nothing--in the beginning. It happened once, let's move on."

Sersi waited patiently for the rest of the story.

Thena sighed, "but then it happened again, and then a third time. But we always said it couldn't be more than that. We had jobs to do. And we both understood that."

"Until," Sresi prompted her, and even smiled impishly when she was glared at for it.

Thena closed her eyes, and imagining Gil's smiling face was almost enough for her to smile in real time. "He was escorting me, as always. We ended up talking and, in essence, we both determined that we were not achieving the casual intentions we had claimed."

"So, you were already in love, is what you're saying," Sersi clarified. Thena glared at her again for her impertinence, but it did nothing to make the quiet woman back down. "I could have told you that."

Thena rolled her eyes, but it did bring somewhat of a smile to her face. "We agreed to explore the potential for more--quietly."

"How did you keep it a secret?" Sersi asked and leaned forward, her curiosity pulling her in. "I mean we had our suspicions but the biggest doubt was simply 'how would you even get away with it?'."

"With practice," Thena conceded, even letting her head tilt back to the head rest. "We got good at sneaking him in and out under different covers. And it worked--for well on a year."

"A yea-?!" Sersi nearly burst out loudly, even for being within the sound cover of a jet. But she managed to rein herself in. She cleared her throat more quietly, "a year?"

Thena nodded. The best years of her life. She gnawed at her cuticle. "Then everything happened. The transition of my position was so fast and so imperative, we didn't really have time to talk about what this meant for us. But Gil...Gil said he wasn't going anywhere."

Tears sprung to her eyes again.

Sersi put the pieces together. "You did fight awfully hard to keep him as your personal detail when you took office."

Thena scoffed, "and let some stranger guard me?"

"They wouldn't be a stranger," Sersi scolded her for denouncing the entirety of the rest of the secret service. But she sighed, "but I suppose you wouldn't have been a good protectee for any of them anyhow."

Especially not if she knew she could have Gil instead.

"It had to be him," Thena resolved, going back to fidgeting with her hands on her lap. "We kept saying we just had to make it through the rest of the term."

Sersi made a face. It wasn't nearly so simple to just exit the office. But this wasn't the time, and she knew that very well. "Thena-"

"He made it!" Kingo ran out, holding up the satellite phone in his hand as if he were a horseman riding at dawn. "They got him stabilized, at least."

"He's alive?" Thena asked, although she immediately discovered she had no air in her lungs. She stood and walked towards Kingo but her knees weren't strong enough anymore.

Both Sersi and Kingo lunged for her as she fell in the middle of the aisle.

"Whoa, hey," Kingo whispered as he caught her, lowering her into a seat properly. "Gil's alive, we're already cleared to return to land and we'll put a bypass on the hospital so you can see him, okay?"

Thena gasped. She couldn't breathe, but for an entirely different reason. She accepted Sersi's shoulder as she cried, hyperventilating into her soft green cashmere dress.

"He's fine, Thena, just breathe," her gentler friend soothed her, running her hand over her hair. "Not much longer. I promise we won't pull you away until you've spoken with him."

"Uh, we really can't-" Thena could hear Kingo begin, and then cut himself off, presumably being glared at by Sersi. He cleared his throat and stepped back, "you got it, Boss. I'll tell Phastos the news."

"He's alive, he's alive," Sersi repeated to her, whispering in her soft accent like a lullaby. "You'll be with him soon."

"I love him," Thena choked out desperately. It ripped out of her just as desperately as she had cried out his name after seeing him get shot. She had to say she loved him, just in case something tried to take him from her again.

"I know," Sersi soothed. "You can be with him soon."

[age-of-moonknight]

“Hunter’s Moon,” Vengeance of the Moon Knight, (Vol. 2/2024), #4.

Writer: Jed MacKay; Penciler and Inker: Alessandro Cappuccio; Colorist: Rachelle Rosenberg; Letterer: Cory Petit

[illdothehotvoice]

Thinking about when I told my roommate I hyperfixate on Mario a lot and he was like "I didn't even know you COULD hyperfixate on Mario until I met you" fkdnfnfndndndnfjfekef

[jam-heathen]

Sometimes after a hard day of studying for the bar, Shitty can be found lying face down on the floor (in his room, in haus 2.0's livingroom, at Jack's, wherever; it just depends on the day). Whichever friend finds him first sends "floor time" to the group chat to let everyone know Shitty could use some additional encouragement

[puppetgearing]

ALY

I WILL KILL (/POS) YOU

[crossbackpoke-check]

I just need you to know I was reading your tags on the Sillinger/Fantilli Deadpool/Wolverine gifset going "YES THE EYE CONTACT! AND COLE'S WHOLE FACE JOURNEY! AND *OH MY GOD* ADAM'S HAND ALMOST BUT NOT GRIPPING AT COLE'S BICEP" like that near grip Adam took had me fainting like a fucking Victorian era man who saw a woman's bare ankles like W.H.A.T.

I neeeeed to write them omg.

ANON. ANON!!!! please. write them!!!!! and send me a link if/when you do 😇 i’ll prepare my fainting couch (the floor)

[electric-plants]

me trying to figure out what team comp to bring against the polychrome tri-stars

[soft-girl-musings]

even when my guts are rearranging themselves (not even in a sexy way) i am still forced to postpone my prince moding to accommodate the instability in the house <3

[anxiousdragoncollector]

I need ppl to understand that if I text them randomly with an odd question, they should immediately assume I'm starfished on a wooden or tiled floor staring up at a moving fanblade, even if, physically, I am not

[st4rbwrry]

my man my man my mannn.

[zaddyazula]

i just want to fucking leave man

[sastielsfandom]

Took a nap, proceeded to have a nightmare. Very fun. I never know how detailed my dreams can get until I'm locked in an elevator, pushing every button to get out, unable to. And when it's finally pried open, I don't even know how it happened but there were multiple people injured. Anyway my dreams can fully produce the image of dead and injured people with blood and bones, organs showing.  And I didn't know that until now.  My description does no justice to what I saw and felt. So yeah.