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Beta-read chapter 3 of Different Eyes.

"...Right. Thanks." Just another promise of fun times ahead. "I'll... tell them that." By the glass, Shadow shivered, looking anxiously back at him. Dave reached for his drink again, fighting down vague nausea. "Any favorites?" Like he'd have seen any of the same movies Soda had in his...

Dave sighed. "God, yeah. Fucking chestburster. Movie-grade shit." He really had to go check out the parasite they'd gotten out of Maple, try to get more information out of it. Not that he hadn't known that, but. Soda'd seemed pretty different from how the others'd been affected by the parasites...

"It's not your fault," Dave muttered, looking up slowly. God, Soda sounded like Jack and he didn't know what to do about it. "Got any ideas what it is exactly?" Shadow leaned harder against the glass. "It's okay."

Dave lay there, picking vaguely at his food, looking away. His lungs were still full of lead, his throat burning. Shadow pressed himself against the glass of the cell wall, watching Soda. "I'm sorry we couldn't stop him earlier."

"Always with the fucking gods, huh." Dave let out a barking laugh and cracked open another beer, chugging it down. Shadow stared at Soda. "I don't want you to die. You're one of the best friends I've ever had." "Shut the fuck up, Shadow." "I want to save you. I'm going to try. Even if it's...

Dave took a breath that felt like he was suffocating, squeezing the now-empty can he was holding until his paw shook. "What the fuck are you talking about. Wasn't he on the goddamn moon? What kind of fucking god is Pop if his power begins and ends with the surface of one fucking planet?" (What...

Dave was about to respond when he froze. Wait. Soda'd heard Shadow. And why wouldn't he? He had every kind of corruption going on in there, didn't he. Probably knew exactly what he was, too, given all the intel-gathering he'd been doing. Motherfucker. He gritted his teeth. "Look, he just...

Dave looked at the book, his chest tightening. All he could think of was his fourteen-year-old self just losing himself in shit like that. Reading about weird creatures by lamplight after he was supposed to be asleep. "Yeah, biology was my passion too. Life and how it works, you know? All these...

Dave shuffled over to the barrier so he could see. “Huh. Well done.” He hadn’t played much in the way of video games since he was a kid. “What have you been reading? Anything interesting?”

Dave collapsed on the floor after getting the food through. "I mean, bit hard to ignore. One of two apocalypses on the way. Guess he's low-priority next to the one currently devouring continents." He cracked one of his beers open and took a deep breath before taking a gulp of it. "I'm just...

Dave had a bunch of things to do. The parasite. Flesh. But when he made his way outside, wincing at the sunlight, headache marginally better but still very much present, what he actually did was order Cauldron takeaway again. Several beers, some steak sandwiches, two portions of mozzarella...

"No, I'm... I should get going anyway." Dave heaved himself back off the couch. He could take a hint. Besides, he did have shit to do. Interrogate the parasite. Try to find the last Substitute. Talk to Flesh. Yeah. Some of that. Probably.

Dave rubbed his face. Fuck. Shouldn't have said that. He did not have anywhere close to the energy to go through the entire explanation of the Pokémorphs right now. Especially when his track record for explaining it to former humans so far involved one guy digging drunken memories out of his...

He looked up. What? "No, I'm... I've got kids who need me. My daughter Jean. Who else is going to fight for them? Not fucking Howard." God. He laid his head back down on the arm of the couch. "Shame Jean's never going to meet Brisa," he muttered. "Would've loved her. Or you, for that matter...

That fucking sucks. Yeah. That was one way to put it. "It's not like Cibus isn't fucking nuts. Full of gods and world-ending threats and weird bullshit, new fucking existential threat every week. Two of them this week, go figure." Fucking Soda. The teetering madness in his voice, everything...

Dave took a breath. He'd thought to himself a few times earlier on that he couldn't wait to go home and forget any of this ever happened, hadn't he. Fuck. "Well, my world is a shithole. There's no tangible force of friendship and determination. Kids confronting gun-toting lunatics just fucking...

Starr looked almost confused, somehow. A kid who'd been made to hunt people down. Dave's psychic grip tightened on the bottle, and he downed the rest of it in one gulp before dumping it on the table with the others. And what, of all people to send after these plucky kid rebels, to hunt them...

1. Have you read Animorphs before? If so, when and how far did you get through the series? If not, do you know anything about the series? A couple of years ago, I read the first book, and just started the second - like, a few pages in. Then I got distracted by other things, though I've been...

Shit. Fucking hell. Dave dragged a paw over his face. It wasn't like it even fucking mattered. Why should he even care what Starr's friends over in a different universe told their parents about their Team Rocket escapades that had fucking nothing to do with him. "Look, I'm sorry." He sighed...