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taybatwo2 · 6 months

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Monster High Skullector Nightmare Before Christmas Review Part 2 of 2

In my last review, I covered the box and most of Sally’s doll, until I ran out of pictures. In this one, I’ll cover Sally’s sculpt and all of Jack.

She has really cute and tiny ears hiding under her soft hair. I feel like most Skullectors’ face molds’ prior use are quickly found by the fandom, but I did not see much for Sally’s head mold, except for a Reddit thread pointing out that she probably used a modified version of the Bee CAM girl (the head does have a 2022 copyright on it).

I can see it, but if so, it was really modified. Bee CAM has a pointier chin, but does have the narrower/pointy nose, similar curving cheeks, and small puckered lips -they’re just over painted on her doll).

If they did use the Bee CAM as a base, they would have had her nose looks better defined, her chin shaved down, her lips look more inline with each other, and she received tiny round ears when/if they did use this sculpt.

They look juuuuust different enough that she might have a new sculpt or someone else’s. Does anyone else think she might resemble another character? I really should take some acetone to clean off those shiny spots on my Bee CAM’s forehead.

Okay, now for the main dish: JACK the Pump-kin KING

More under the cut:

He is seriously SO CUTE! I love his round vinyl head, his sculpted in mouth, his upturned nose, his subtle brow ridges, and blacked out eyes (thank GOD they did not genderswap him and make him look like someone doing a cosplay of Jack- like I have seen some AWESOME artwork of a more “Monster High” Jack and I think they are all playing it too safe or off model for it to be Jack). I mean these were all background characters for G1 Monster High:

He looks like another version of Eyera and would fit right into the Monster High universe in my opinion.

Okay, let’s get a close up of his shoes. They are very intricate (perfectly Monster High, and have the Spiral Hill as the heel and a teeny tiny skullete on the front of his shoes). His outfit is, unfortunately, just the two pieces and that printed, thin, satin fabric (probably to cut costs on Jack’s new head and body sculpt).

Here is his jacket. I like the print of his jacket. It is just different enough from his original movie look without looking garish.

Yup, one piece. I can understand attaching his pants and shirt together (so his pants don’t fall down…although some spiffy Pumpkin King Suspenders would have looked cool too), but it would have been nice if the vest was removable.

Hexiciah has three separate pieces…..and his set was cheaper than this set (but I suppose they need to charge more for the license….does anyone else wish they��d make older characters that were never turned into dolls again???). The shirt has real metal buttons on it though. Also, his vest reminds me of his prequel version in the graphic novel: Battle for the Pumpkin King:

Jack compared to other Monster High Manster body types (minus G3 and Finnegan). But, this comparison is a bit unfair…..Frankenstein’s Monster has lifts, and Jack is wearing heels…

Hexiciah is towering over all of them. He is actually about the same height as the buffer manster body and the default G1 body. He fits right on in. He’s also very fun to pose, but his elbow joints are bit stiff and (I’m going to assume) delicate. They also come off fairly easily.

His stand is taller than most of the Monster High characters (even Hexiciah’s) because his little stand needs to sit up higher in his ribs to hold him. His clip is also the exact same as Sally’s.

With Jack’s rectangle plastic piece under his clothing, it was hard for the stand clip to grip him, so I just tossed it for the rest of the review. No regrets.

Jack and the other skeleton girls: Skelita and her almost trial run: Skeleton CAM (and Skelita’s Re-Ment dog).

His three fingers versus Skelita and CAM (the same mold). The thumbs look pretty similar besides the size. I might paint the joints of his fingers black, but otherwise, they look great.

A close up of his tiny, but VERY detailed feet (I assume they wanted them about the same size so his pants go on easier).

Skelita’s feet dwarfs his.

His leg bones are fused together like Skelita’s, while his arm bones are separated like Skeleton CAM’s.

A comparison of Jack’s and Skelita’s back (Skelton CAM just has a regular one). I like how they still simplified his neck to resemble his simplified vertebrae seen in the film. His sculpting is JUST SO GOOD!!

This set is near perfect to me. I adore it and I really wish that Mattel made it easier for everyone to get one that wanted one.

#monster high #monster high doll #aleta’s toys #doll collecting #monster high dolls #dollbr #doll collector #toy collecting #Aleta’s reviews #monster high skullector #monster high nightmare before christmas #Nightmare before Christmas dolls

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batsbolts-andfangs · 3 months

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Curious, how many individuals are a kin of a Frankenstein's monster, whether it be Frankenstein's monster himself, the bride of Frankenstein, or anything else that falls within that category? I know I myself am, I fall into that category, but I'm curious on how many others are as well

#🦇 ︴batty babbles #alterhuman #otherkin #fictionkin

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warrior-cats-rewritten · 6 months

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In honour of Halloween I present to you some spooky AUs to think about. These are free to use however you may please (though... please tag me if you do, so I can see what you did! I love seeing what people think of stuff)

Werewolf!Shadowsight: This is exactly what it says on the tin. Ashfur infects Shadowpaw with an old transformation curse during Lost Stars that turns him into a large black wolf, hungry for blood.

Zombie!Skyclan: Skyclan is infected with a zombie virus rather than driven out by the Kin, and now heading to the lake at fast pace while Alderpaw and Sparkpaw try to come up with a cure with Twig and Violet, the only healthy cats left.

Lunar Eclipse Gathering: A Lunar Eclipse triggers an opening for the Dark Forest to walk amongst the living during a Gathering. Will they keep the peace, or will the blood moon earn its name?

Halloween Dark Forest: The spirits in the Dark Forest with more typical "spooky monster" designs, such as vampires, witches, ghouls, mummies and the like, this is more artsy for those who wanna add a "spooky" image to the Dark Forest (or maybe you just wanna imagine Hawkfrost as Frankenstein's Monster idk you do you)

Anyway, Happy Halloween, stay safe!

#warrior cats #warriors #warrior cats au #halloween #shadowsight #alderheart #sparkpelt #twigbranch #violetshine #hawkfrost #ashfur

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missmaywemeetagain · 1 year

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Dear Miss Madisyn,

What makes Elementary superior to the Cumberbatch Sherlock for you?

a fellow television enthusiast...

norah

PS X-Files was my first grown up appointment TV show....

My Darlin' Dearest Norah,

I want to preface this by saying I do like BBC Sherlock because I know there are some pretty intense camps out there on both sides and I don't want anyone coming for me lol. I definitely think there is room for both in the canon. I will also say it has been quite a while since I watched the BBC version, so make of that what you will...

However, I prefer Elementary for a few reasons:

One, while I think the highly stylistic "movie" sort of quality to the BBC version is interesting, it gives Sherlock this sort of superhero-esque quality that makes him so "other" it's hard to relate to him in any way. Like I think he's cool in an objective way, but I don't really like him much or find him very redeemable. And the attitude around him is kind of like, "Well, that's just Sherlock! He's just a brilliant asshole!" and it just...stays that way.

(Now don't get me wrong, I love all the actors in both versions for a multitude of different reasons! But the writing lends itself to highly different interpretations from an actor's perspective.)

I prefer the realism of Elementary more. I absolutely love the characterization of both Sherlock and Joan. They feel like dynamic, flawed but redeemable characters who are fleshed out in most every way. They learn and grow and change in crucial ways throughout the series. Sherlock's behavior and neurodivergency are explained but not used as cop-outs or excuses for his not-so-nice treatment of people. He faces very real consequences in his relationships because of it and because of his drug addiction, but the key difference is that he figures out he wants to do better, especially for the people he comes to care deeply for. He tries, in his weird Sherlock way, to connect, because he starts to realize that yes, he is brilliant, but his actions affect others, and that being totally alone is not all it's cracked up to be. And Joan is very much her own person who struggles with her own issues and relationships with people and with the direction she wants her life to go. She (unwillingly at first) learns these new things about how to look at the world and how to help people in a different way, and she doesn't take a backseat to Sherlock. After the first season, she becomes a true partner to him, not a sidekick, and I really appreciate that.

Part of it is there is just more time over 7 traditional seasons to explore character arc, versus the wonky "we put seasons out whenever it works for us" way of BBC. The nuances are much more developed over time in a more natural way for Elementary.

Not to mention that the gender-bending in Elementary is just *chef's kiss*. They did it so well, you'd hardly know it was any other way!

Back to character, I just think Johnny Lee Miller knocked that role completely out of the park. He was absolutely stunning in playing those subtle changes and emotional moments and showing Sherlock's growth over time. He was multi-dimensional and it made his growth heartbreaking and lovely. He should've won a million Emmy's for that performance. And honestly, as much as I like Benedict (and I do), I truly think Johnny is the better actor overall (side note--if you ever get a chance, watch both versions of the Frankenstein production that they did together for the National Theatre in London, where they switch roles, both playing the monster and Dr. F for different performances. It's brilliant! But I do think Johnny is much better as the monster. 😊) And Lucy Liu is just a badass and I love her, too, and the chemistry between them is just awesome. They play those comic moments so well, too.

And I'm not gonna lie, I'm 100% a Sherlock x Joan shipper, and the writing in Elementary was fantastic in this way, because it left it open enough for the audience to decide for themselves what kind of love we were dealing with there. But the shippy moments were soooo good, imo. You named a bee after me? We're just two people who love each other... Come ON. Beautiful. Fabulous. Fantastic. And the ending? I wept.

I also think Elementary dealt with the addiction piece much much much better. The realism of going to AA, dealing with the fallout of relationships, relapses, the ongoing challenge of always being an addict was just so much more poignant without being a crutch. Similar thoughts about how the neurodivergency and PTSD were handled.

Anyway, I could probably go on, but this is long enough already! TL;DR: I just think Elementary is better in all the ways: writing, acting, arcs, relationships...LOL

Thanks for the ask, my dearest!!

#might be time for a rewatch...#i love them so much #i really do #sherlock holmes #joan watson #joanlock #elementary cbs #not elvis related lol #ask #answered

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r5r-76 · 3 days

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Frankenstein (Monster) kin flag if you can!!!!!! flags are dope!!!

Yep yep! :o)

Frankenstein’s Monster Kin Flag!

Other Frankenstein’s Monster Flag…

Link

#🏴 stars flags #alterhuman flag #alterhuman community #alterhumanity #alterhuman #otherkin #otherkinity #otherkin flag #otherkin community #nonhuman flag #nonhuman community #nonhuman #nonhumanity #fictionkin #fictionkin flag #fictkin

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whisker-biscuit · 11 months

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A Frankenstein’s Fixation

Fandom: Guardians of the Galaxy

Rating: T

Warnings: body horror, animal abuse, ableism, spoilers for Guardians of the Galaxy 3

Summary: "But you are not any other scientist. You are the scientist. The High Evolutionary. What is satisfactory to others is merely adequate to you in your endeavor for perfection. And in that endeavor, 89P13 is no more than a stepping stone. You are certain of that."

Or:

The High Evolutionary and his many thoughts about his "favorite" little monster.

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Earth fascinates you much more than you could have ever predicted.

You had originally been in that quadrant of the galaxy to visit Asgard; Earth, admittedly, had not even been in your awareness. But on one of your extended trips, during your numerous conversations with Odin and his scholars about their newest discoveries in all realms of science and mathematics, the king had mentioned a trip he had once made to the nearby primitive planet several thousand years before.

He had spoken at length about the native people he’d encountered there who had seen his impressive powers and technology and as such started worshiping him and his kin as gods. It was quaint but entirely off-topic from what you were there to discuss, and so you humored his tales only long enough for him to share some of the gifts he had been given before his journey home. Most were weapons and armor of various designs, which were useful to a warrior king but did not hold your attention, and you had stated your interest in returning to previous subjects.

That was, until he showed you the music.

A melody like you had never heard before thrummed through the room, through your body, through your very soul. It was the ingenuity of beings who did not have the knowledge of things so much greater than them but who still knew it was there, and had transcribed their deep-seated intuition into the most understandable of all languages – music.

“What is the meaning of this song?” You’d asked Odin, mystified and delighted.

“It is a ballad about a traveler who meets his end on a road he thought he knew well,” he had told you. “A cautionary tale, I believe. I see you like it; would you like to hear more?”

“Please show me everything you have.”

After that, Odin himself had taken you to Earth for the rest of your stay with him, so that you could travel the vast planet and sample its musical wonders from the endless cultures that dwelled on it. Even then, so many millennia after the song that the Asgardian had recorded had been made, there was still no shortage of creativity among Earth’s people.

You began making frequent trips on your own after that as you began creating civilizations over the next several centuries. Earth and its art, its music, its creativity were great sources of inspiration for you even as its societies changed and grew, and there were endless resources of lower life forms to use for the messier aspects of your work.

As you began striving for perfection, however, Earth seemed to do the opposite. Ignorance and bigotry had long been an unfortunate staple of life, but Terrans seemed to amplify the concepts tenfold despite all being of one planet. A consequence of their heightened muses, or a microcosm of everything wrong with the universe – a question you never sought to answer when you could just as easily solve the root of the problem with your own designs instead.

Your last visit was in the Terran year of 1989, and after that you deigned to simply breed the animals taken from Earth for more subjects instead of returning for more. It was with a rare moment of melancholy that you made the decision to never visit again, but you were confident that there was nothing more to be gained from the planet than what you had already found. In fact, you were nearly certain that you could recreate that source of inspiration and creativity without the complications its originators had come with.

Thus began your journey to build your newest society.

Counter-Earth.

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Batch 89 had been an insightful experience of what to do – or perhaps, more aptly, what not to do – in evolving lower lifeforms into something worthwhile.

You had started with an Oryctolagus Cuniculus, applying most of its enhancements externally. Antenna stemming through the cranium to provide extra sensory input for unsatisfactory brain development; shortened hind hocks in an effort to encourage bipedal movement, and then extra appendages to account for that immediate failure; a mouthpiece to allow for speech when the subject’s natural mouth was not built to form the syllables and sounds required for proper communication.

89L06 had become a grotesque amalgamation of a toddler’s attempt to merge a mammal and an insect by the end, but the trial and error had given your team a solid starting point for the next. You moved on.

An Odobenus Rosmarus was chosen next in the hopes that its larger size would allow for a greater margin of error compared to the tiny body of its predecessor. In some ways, it did – the brain did not need as invasive an enhancement procedure as L06, and so its intelligence was markedly improved. A set of wheels were connected through its pelvic girdle to improve movability and versatility on land, and it was with this experiment that you began testing the viability of internal mechanical augmentation as opposed to external.

Although marginally more put-together than the previous subject, 89A95 still looked like a Frankenstein’s monster, one of Earth’s myths, with far too much bulk and not enough elegance. With a better understanding of the intricacies of rebuilding a body from the ground up, you moved on.

Back to another, smaller animal; a Lontra Canadensis. An augmented spinal cord to keep it walking upright at all times, and replacement of its forelegs with metal limbs when its paws were deemed inadequate for complex dexterity. Its mental capacity was considerably greater than its predecessors, and it was the first in its batch to develop abstract thinking of its own accord. Lamentably, however, its intelligence hit a limit upon introducing mathematical concepts more complicated than basic algebra. 89Q12 would offer no more insight than the rest of its batch.

You should not have moved on.

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It intrigues you, when you first approach that cage, how nearly all of the infant Procyon Lotor subjects recoil away from your hand. They huddle in the furthest corners, tiny faces turned from the perceived threat hovering over them, shaking and whining like the simple-minded beasts they are.

All but one.

It cowers just like the rest of its kin, but it makes neither sound nor movement when you reach for it. For a moment, you wonder if it might lash out and try to bite you, but its fear seems to paralyze it as your fingers close around its tiny body and lift it out of the cage. The lack of reaction gives you pause; either this particular subject has a modicum of intelligence to recognize that struggling is an impractical endeavor, or its mental capacities are so lacking that it doesn’t even fully comprehend that it is in danger.

Impossible to tell the difference at this stage. That would be discovered at a much later date in the experimental procedure. And if it is indeed the latter case, well. You could just start over with another.

Dark beady eyes watch you without blinking as you lock the cage and take it towards the operation room.

You don’t spare it a glance in return. It is just another face in a sea of countless experiments, ignorant and lesser and unintelligent. The only meaning it has is as the stepping stone you have already declared it to be.

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Initially, 89P13 does not give any indication of marked difference from Q12. Your team has fine-tuned the process of reshaping these primitive bodies into something greater, and so it is easy to introduce metal and neurological enhancements where needed. For the first six months, its sternum and pelvis are repeatedly broken as it grows so as to make room for the augmentation that will allow it to remain upright, and the digits on its paws are guided for further growth with the help of metal splints. Its intelligence and social skills are tracked both during testing and while with the rest of Batch 89, and that development follows the same pattern as Q12.

That is, at first. At six and a half months, P13 finally surpasses Q12’s understanding of the scientific concepts presented. It absorbs all the processes taught to it without a single mistake, and remembers every single one during the next session. Your team are thrilled to have something new to work with while they wait for your next brilliant design.

Except that design doesn’t come. You know you are at the end of anything worthwhile with Batch 89 and that it’s time to move on to the next batch, but you cannot decide what that batch will be. It is not for lack of choices, either – further external or internal modification, or focus on a singular species for study, or even a return to bipedal life forms that are more closely aligned with Terrans, such as primates. Any of these directions would be well-suited for pursual by any other scientist.

But you are not any other scientist. You are the scientist. The High Evolutionary. You use such basic paths of research as points to jump off of into something truly enlightened.

During this period of inner turmoil, you find yourself observing P13's sessions in person more than any of its batch's predecessors – perhaps more than any individual experiment since Ayesha of the Sovereign. You chalk it up to boredom and lack of inspiration at first; you are simply occupying your mind by watching the accelerated growth of a lesser one to remind yourself of how much can be, has been achieved by your great intellect, and it holds your attention with a decent amount of amusement.

Then, a breakthrough. Not in your own stagnation, but in P13's.

One of your Recorders passes by its cage one evening, and finds the subject talking animatedly to its fellow experiments about having learned how to apply polynomial functions to a square matrix – something your team has not yet taught it. They take it to an observation room and page you immediately, and that is how you find yourself with an interrupted sleep cycle watching a Procyon Lotor chattering excitedly as it fills out complex formulas on a blank tablet.

The last time you had checked P13's progress three days ago, it had been studying linear algebra and had just barely been introduced to how to determine the degree of a polynomial. Now, independently, it has taught itself functional calculus.

It turns to you excitedly, showing off its work – all correct, you can tell with only a glance – and waits for you to say something. You crouch down beside it and let the silence linger as you consider this rare phenomenon and how best to address it.

“Remarkable, 89P13,” you tell it, watching the way it smiles at the compliment. “How did you come to this realization on your own?”

“The numberses,” it says, eyes alight with the spark of a million firing neural synapses, “I thinks about missing number in polynomial function, and then…then I wonders why missing number gotta be one number. Why not lots of numberses?”

The incorrect grammar sets your teeth on edge but you ignore the urge to correct it. Such a thing can be done later, after the extent of this newfound intellect that P13 is expressing has been determined. You consider your experiment carefully.

“That’s fantastic. Very inspired thinking.”

It squeaks in surprise when your hand clamps down around its head, but the only movement it makes is the nervous darting of its eyes as it stares up at you.

“Theel.” You address your Recorder, still studying the creature in your hold.

“Sire?”

“Inform the rest of Batch 89’s handlers that they are to focus all their efforts on teaching 89P13 to find what its intellectual limits are. The rest of Batch 89 can be disregarded.”

“Of course, Sire.”

There’s an odd little flicker in P13’s eyes for just one brief moment, and then it’s gone. One of your fingers shifts to gently stroke the fur along its head. It remains tense and nervous, no doubt having long-associated your touch with pain from its many surgeries, but its ears perk up in hesitant anticipation.

“Learn more? I learns more?”

“Yes, P13.” You allow a small smile of your own to grace your lips over its enthusiasm. “You’re going to learn so much more. I’m going to see to that personally. Now, why don’t you show me more of you’ve figured out?”

89P13 relaxes and goes back to the tablet, writing animatedly in its rush to show you everything it can do. You don’t let go of its head for quite some time.

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You wake up in the middle of the night, two days after P13’s incredible revelation, with one of your own: why force artificial evolution in these creatures when you can simply induce what comes naturally to them, accelerated instantaneously instead of over millennia?

Further sleep is forgotten as you begin charting concepts and procedures. The first blueprints for Batch 90 have begun.

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The next three months pass in a blur of evolutionary experimentation and genetic computation. You work with renewed vigor from your epiphany and your scientists follow suit. The main goal of instantaneous evolution for Batch 90 is calculated fairly quickly and testing begins almost immediately after that. You can feel Counter-Earth within your reach now; all you need is to resolve the kinks in this new process in your quest to make perfect lifeforms, as such a thing has never been achieved before.

‘Growing pains’, as the pun goes, are to be expected. There just happens to be one particular pain that seems to evade your comprehension no matter what you try. It’s frustrating, this overproduction of Lygo-Beta Microsomino Proteins, but you are sure you will solve it eventually.

In the meantime, you keep a keen interest in 89P13’s personal progress.

Nonlinear partial differential equations. Number theory. Escape Velocity. M-Theory. Countless other subjects. The experiment’s brain soaks everything up like a dry sponge thrown into a body of water and applies it all well beyond what is taught. You have seen and studied gifted adolescents extensively – you were one yourself, after all. But you have never encountered anything like this.

Every time P13 proves a theorem correct, you feel your mouth curl up at the corners. Every time it assembles an assortment of parts into a viable spaceship engine or perfectly completes a simulation for navigating through a quantum asteroid field, you feel your fingers twitch at your sides. Every time a member of your team looks on in wonder or voices amazement at the subject’s accelerated understanding of literally every topic given to it, you feel your back straighten and your chin rise just a little bit higher.

That’s your creation. That’s your handiwork. That’s your genius at work. You have made something whose mind surpasses even that of some of the lower-level scientists under your employ, and with it is a shining sense of pride that you have not felt since the successful launch of Orgoscope. You begin overseeing P13’s sessions directly, if only to appreciate firsthand what you’ve created.

The subject still flinches at your touch, and yet now it seeks it out willingly, eagerly, like a dog to a harsh but firm master. It craves guidance and praise, and you are happy to oblige. Such praise, after all, has always been and will always be for you more than it.

Any and all frustrations from the issues with Batch 90 are negated, at least for a little while, whenever you return to P13. You might be stuck again, but you easily find emotional release upon watching it work. The slightest creepings of failure are kept at bay by barely an hour with P13.

Once, when you are having a moment of introspection while recovering from a particularly fatiguing personal treatment, you have the thought of letting P13 live longer than its usefulness requires. The metaphorical ceiling of its capabilities will be reached someday, and then it will be dissected for study so that you might replicate its remarkable brainpower in the future, but for almost half a minute you entertain the idea of putting that end off for just a little while.

Procyon Lotors can live up to ten years in captivity with proper care, and 89P13 wants for nothing. If it reaches its intellectual threshold soon, at just over a year old, surely its brain would not deteriorate if you waited, say, until it was five or six?

Then you shake your head and chuckle at yourself for the silly notion. You are growing sentimental for a creature that only exists through your own accomplishments.

No, that’s not quite right. You are growing sentimental for a mind that only exists through your own accomplishments. The creature itself is still an abomination in every other way, and that, you decide, must be where the source of your moment of weakness originates. You wish P13’s mind had come in a better physical form instead of the stepping stone you had always intended it to be.

Oh, well. There will be plenty of chances for that to be the case in the future, once the secrets of that beautiful brain have all become yours.

For now, however, 89P13 has another session coming up – and this one is special, because you have decided to let it take place in your central observation room. What better way to find inspiration for Batch 90’s problem that has been eluding you than the sight of Counter-Earth being built, and this little monster with a mind you have so many plans for sitting on your knee?

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You refuse to entertain 89P13’s so-called “solution” to Batch 90’s problem. You refuse.

It’s such a simple answer. Too little filtration. It’s too simple – something conjured up by the mind of a child in an attempt to look mature in a room of adults. A tiny buffoon in a room of intellectual giants. None of your scientists have thought of it, and more importantly, you have not thought of it, and if that is the case then surely that means it isn’t an answer at all.

So you refuse to consider the filtration.

Batch 91 tries a different route for solving the over-aggression. Multiple routes. Each one ends a failure, or only rectifies the issue at the cost of far bigger ones that you cannot afford to gamble with. Instantaneous evolution is not so cut and dry as science fiction might make it out to be, and the only stable procedure for it brings you right back to square one.

But you refuse to consider the filtration.

Another few months pass in a vicious cycle of sketching out new concepts, building the equipment necessary to test them, and then watching it all be for nothing as the problem rears its ugly head over and over and over again.

You stop supervising 89P13’s sessions entirely. Watching the way it so easily solves complex problems that should have stumped it no longer fills you with pride but with rage. How dare it think it’s better than you? Than any of you? To so flippantly tell you what is wrong with your own calculations as if it has any right to even be part of the conversation to begin with?

A Recorder tells you one day that P13 is finally speaking in full sentences with proper grammar, having fully surpassed Batch 89 in every way. The breakthrough you had once planned to be present for is now just an irritating interruption in your other, more important investigations.

When 89P13 is just under a year and a half old, you finally consider the filtration.

You tell your team to create a new batch of subjects, and the first experiment will be to do exactly what P13 had claimed would solve the problem. You are at your wit’s end and you will entertain this notion once, just to prove it asinine as you’ve always known it was, and then you will move on. You are so certain it will be another failure that you don’t even stay to see the implementation or the result.

You get the notification an hour later, in the middle of another treatment: Batch 92 is a resounding success.

You have never been more furious in your life.

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One of the hallmarks of a traumatic experience is said to be gaps in memory. The mind, unable to fully process what it has just been through, will sometimes purge all remembrance of the event in order to protect the mental and emotional state of the being it belongs to.

You receive no such courtesy.

You wake up long after the assault; long after your Recorders found you lying prone and vulnerable and bleeding; long after they tried and failed to heal you.

As far as galactic medicine has come, it still cannot restore what was lost. Appendages – fingers or legs or arms or eyes – are all things that can only be put back together if one still has the missing pieces. You find out, the hard way, that also includes muscles and skin.

“We’re so happy you’re okay, Sire!” Your subordinates titter as you relearn how to eat and drink and speak through excruciating pain.

“It’s a miracle you’re alive, Sire!” They squeal as your body rejects skin graft after skin graft until the doctors finally admit that your molecular makeup is too unique for it.

“You’ll be back to your old self in no time, Sire!” You hear time and time again, over and over, as a prosthetic is made so that you can hide the gruesome, twisted monstrosity that you have become.

No, not what you have become. What you have been turned into.

There is no going back from this; no return to an old self or an old form or even a new form. A new form implies improvement. Enhancement. Evolution. Perfection. You have become the opposite of that, a monster, and you remember everything with perfect clarity.

A monster begotten by another monster.

And by the God that does not exist, you know that if you ever get your hands on that little monster ever again, you are going to hold his head between your hands and squeeze until there’s nothing left to squeeze.

And you will never, ever stop.

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A/N: If I had a nickel for every time I wrote about a character who was obsessed with an anthropomorphic raccoon, I'd have two nickels - which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice.

I've had this bastard on my mind since I saw the movie a month and a half ago. He's been simultaneously extremely fun and extremely frustrating to write, fighting me practically every scene which is why it took so long to actually finish the darn thing. Thank you James Gunn for giving us such an awful, wonderful villain to love to hate.

Thank you for reading!

#guardians of the galaxy #guardians of the galaxy 3 #guardians of the galaxy spoilers #rocket raccoon #the high evolutionary

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