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salparadiselost · 1 month ago

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Just something I wrote up. I had this scene in my head and I couldn’t not write it. It’s based on a New Gods AU which I’m not sure I’ve talked about but it exists in the group chat.

*****

“Fetch your brothers. Return to the Manor immediately.”

---

Dick hummed all of the top 40 tracks under his breath as he walked along the edge of a highway. He believed he was somewhere in the Pacific Northwest, given the trees, the mountains, and the slight tinge of magic that wasn’t his. There were old beings sleeping under him, older than humans and the concepts that they had used to create godlings like him.

They weren’t the reason he came here, though.

He was here for a much newer god.

He sniffed the air like a hunting hound and stopped abruptly.

A truck clattered past him, not stopping, not seeing.

Dick searched along the grass and found his telltale, a small roadside memorial in the form of a white wooden cross was tipped over to the side. Its paint was peeling off, sloughing off in fat chunks. The wood underneath it was molding into black. The forgotten husk of a teddy bear decomposed into the ground beside it. Artificially coloured flowers that would never get the blessing of decomposure lay partially buried in the dirt. A faded picture of a girl, brown-haired and big-smiling, was nailed to the cross, and it fluttered slightly when another car passed. Written on the photo, in faded pen and running ink, the second half of a sentence could just barely be read: “-was last seen here”.

Dick snorted.

Tim was nothing if not predictable.

He turned off of the road and went into the forest beyond it.

He doesn’t know what happened here; it wasn’t his jurisdiction. Tim could probably tell you. Talk to you about how that girl’s car had been broken down, or maybe she had stopped to help an ‘innocent’ bystander, or maybe she had met a secret boyfriend for a drive. He could tell you about the days before, how she was in life before it was cut short, what innocuous things were the dominoes stacking up before the whole thing tipped over.

It was a conversation that Dick had had with Tim before, but not one that interested him much, given that she hadn’t become the center of America’s media circus. Instead, her story ended here. In a forest, with a wooden cross and a cold case sitting in some podunk town somewhere.

Dick’s gaze flicked through the foliage, across a tattered piece of fabric caught in a bush’s branches, across the loose threads from torn clothes that would have been too small for the human eye.

Around him, the forest chattered and whispered, quietly saying what had happened in a way that he couldn’t quite hear. It told the entire story if you knew how to listen. Tim did. Bruce did. But Dick didn’t. He only knew the clues enough to follow them to the edge of a lake.

The bright blue lake was like a hole in the forest’s coat. Trees parted to make room for it, and it reflected the sky back on itself. It was a pristine blue, except for a blotch out in its middle.

There, amongst the endless sky water and the sparkling ripple of waves, was a body.

It floated in the suspended reality of the water, bobbing with restless motion despite the stillness in its limp form. It was completely naked, revealing pale and pasty skin to the world. The colour was greyer than any living human should be and unnaturally mottled with green and blue. All the warmth of life had been leached out by its watery grave, leaving only a grisly shadow of what it had been. The knobby ridges of its spine jutted into the air. Its neck stuck at an unnatural angle, and there was an occasional peek at a slash of raw, exposed flesh. Little chunks of meat, bitten and pulled off by fish and birds, floated next to the corpse.

Dick waited, his foot tapping against the shore of the beach.

The body kept floating there, buoyant from the bloat of gasses captured in its stomach. Long hair rippled with the waves.

He sighed, put two fingers up to his mouth, and whistled. The sound pierced across the lake and hung in the air for a few seconds.

Then, the body twitched, limbs locking back into physical control. It shook and then moved its arms to sit itself up, raising up on the water like someone awakening from a nap. It sat up, and Dick could see the remnants of her face. It was torn, like someone had dragged it, and let pieces of it come off like ribbons to then be eaten by the water. Skin hung. The eyes were gone. Her jawbone was visible through a large gaping hole in her cheek. Flesh had been picked apart by fishes and other creatures. It was a portrait of a death. Her death, he supposes.

The face of her stared at him until suddenly it wasn’t her’s anymore.

In between two of his breaths, the figure on the lake had changed into something Dick recognised much more.

“What?” Tim snapped from his seat on the water, legs tucked close and looking very much like a teenage that had been interrupted from his twin bed. Waves lapped at the edges of him, but they might have well been blankets and sheets. Dick is pretty sure he’s seen Tim in this exact position at the Manor, comforter knotted up all around his legs with his laptop balanced on his lap.

He gave Dick the same annoyed, haughty, ‘you’re bothering me’, look that every younger sibling seemed to have mastered.

“I’m here to pick you up,’ said Dick, his tone bouncing. “Dad wants us. It’s time to come back.”

Tim’s eyes narrowed, and the temperature of the air turned down a few degrees. “I’m not a kid that needs to get fetched from his room.”

Dick snorted and shrugged. “Trust me. I’ve been trying to use that argument for centuries. A millennium before you were even thought up. It doesn’t work.”

Tim stayed staring for a few moments before he groaned and collapsed back into the water. The movement exposed a weeping gash on the body’s side, the flash of her ribs was poking out from the meat. There were bruises on her belly and up her chest. Tim laid on his back, staring up at the sky and rocking with the slight ripple of the lake.

“I guess telling him I’m busy won’t dissuade him?”

“Nope.”

Tim sighed and rolled to hop off of his makeshift bed. His legs splashed into the water, but only raised halfway up his thighs. He trudged his way towards Dick, and as he did, the memory of the dead girl shed off of him. His body healed over the gashes. His neck clicked into the right place. A baggy hoody and jeans manifested onto himself. His hair dried, shortened, and any caught leaves or twigs fell out of it. By the time he reached the shore, the only remnant left of the girl was the slight corpse tinge on Tim’s skin. It was a little too pale to be alive, a little too blue and green not to suggest decomposition, but even that was being erased away.

“You figure out your little mystery?” Dick asked, watched Tim shake the last of the lake and the girl off of him. ‘You’ve been out here for a few weeks.”

“Not really,” said Tim, as he grabbed an Airpod out of his hoodie pocket and shoved it into one of his ears. “Finding the body is easy. Filling in the holes in the middle is always harder.”

He also drew a maroon beanie from his hoodie pocket and stuck it on his head.

“And floating out there in the middle of the lake is essential?” Dick teased and Tim gave him a venomous frown. It wasn’t the first time Dick had found him in a rather deathly position despite Bruce trying to ban it multiple centuries ago.

Tim drew a beat-up white sneaker from the hoodie pocket and then another. “Living through the last moments is very informative.”

Dick grinned and Tim’s glare dropped. “Wait, you’re not telling Dad are you?”

Dick hummed with a smirk, and Tim looked like he wanted to throw something at Dick’s head. “I hate you, you know.”

“Alright, alright, maybe I won’t tell him.” He raised his hands in surrender and gave Tim a smile that usually made people fall in love with him. Usually. But Tim wasn’t people, and he sure as hell knew that behind all the pretty grins, Dick’s teeth were sharpened and his tongue could give the most beautiful lie.

His gaze remained suspicious, but eventually he shook his head and changed the subject, apparently done with Dick’s game.

“What the hell are you wearing anyways?”

Dick blinked, taking a second to remember exactly how he was appearing at the moment. It was his normal body in its normal shape. He double checked to confirm he was male, and yep, in the male configuration. All of this was stuff Tim had seen a million times before, so it wasn’t something with the body.

It must be the outfit.

It took a second but he remembered he was wearing a glittery, blue sequined leotard that cut high up on his hips and had large hearts emblazoned on it. Matching the leotard, he wore a glittery cowboy hat and a pair of heart-shaped glasses that did little to hide the bright blue shadow on his lids. He also had on gold cowboy boots that went to his thigh and gloves that stretched toward his elbows. A row of beaded tassels hung from the leotard and this shimmered when he breathed.

He had been at a concert when he saw the text from Bruce to retrieve Tim.

Concerts were more his speed than all of Tim’s moody floating in the woods. Modern concerts were a spectacle and he lived for spectacle. He didn’t really care about the music or the artistry; he always found those to be the most boring parts, but he loved the sheer grandeur of their shows. He adored the way the pulse of the crowd rocked into his bones and filled his lungs. He reveled in how the thrum consumed you into a part of itself. He drank the fizzy pop of power that came from a thousand people all chanting the same sounds. It was intoxicating. It was thrilling. It was a vestige of him.

How he was.

Back when humans filled coliseums and circuses were the center of the world.

It came close to satisfying the vicious yearning he still had for blood sprayed across Roman sands and the clatter of chariot wheels.

No more though. He had to get his fill from a different type of spectacle now.

“I was at a music thing,” Dick said with a waved hand. “Some little Missouri girl is calling herself a princess and people are eating it up.”

Tim raised a curious eyebrow, eyes going over Dick’s outfit. He knew the rules of Dick’s god hood, generally the bigger, the flashier, and the more flash in the pan, the better. “That seems like a boon for you.”

“It’s fast,” said Dick with a shrug. “It’s fun. But it's music, which always means it's only half a meal for me.”

After all, he wasn’t a god of music. He didn’t care about the melody or the words, if anything it was competition for what he truly wanted. He wanted something much more primal. Much more ancient.

Ironic that most of it lived in the moments and flashes of social media. The newest technologies to satisfy the most basic of needs.

He had to adapt if he wanted to live, and this is where that got him. He knew Tim understood because he wanted something similar. Something that was ugly to most of the modern world, and yet survived with each new revolution.

Sure enough, Tim nodded and walked towards Dick’s side.

“Are we going straight to the Manor?” He asked, eyes looking forward and momentarily tabling the mystery in the lake. His mind was already turning on something new, trying to figure out why Bruce had called them all back.

It wasn’t… unusual for Bruce to call them all together back to the Manor but the timing was odd.

They had mostly recently been called back a few months ago and Bruce usually let them have a couple years in the field before he was itching to have them back again. It was a deviation of their pattern and given that Bruce was an ancient god with ancient habits, it took a lot to break their patterns.

Something was up.

Something that required all of them to be home.

“We have to go get Jason,” said Dick, the world already changing around them. “Then we will go home.”

#kay speaks #kay writes #new gods au #dick grayson #tim drake #bruce wayne #in the background

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mannequinreligi0n · 10 months ago

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Hiii!!

I loove your fics and lately I've been begging for some new Nero fics 🫡🫡

Could I request a fic with Nero and fem!reader where they're really good friends and yknow It's really cold outside and they both have to stay in an inn. Maybe one of the two offers their bed? And they both finally give in after a long while of hidding their feelings.

I really really crave some cute fluffy Nero smut, reader being her first🤭

Don't stress too much about this, and of course you can choose to write it or not!!

Thank you sweetie🫶🫶

ty for this !! i love a good ‘oh noooo, there’s only one bed’ trope.

tbh im not the biggest nero lover so this was a slight challenge but it ended up pretty good and a lot longer than expected lol. i also didn’t know how to end it but i hope you enjoy !!!!

Two Pals, One Bed

an unexpected storm puts you and nero in an unlikely situation

PAIRING: DMC5 Nero x afab reader

WARNINGS: (NSFW!: first-time/virgin!reader, fingering, penetration)

WORD COUNT: 2k

🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

The sheets of rain pounded on the windshield of the van, making visibility hard on the patchy road. You flicked out the wrinkles in the map, squinting in the light of your phone to see the web of routes.

“Can’t see a damn foot in front of me like this.”, Nero grumbled from the driver’s seat. “No thanks to you, by the way.”

His pointed blame made you crinkle the map in your hands. You both had been driving for seemingly hours, trying to make it home from a job, but the storm was making it hard to navigate the backroads.

“There’s an inn after the next right, we’ll duck from the rain til morning.”

Nero sighed and shook his head. “We would’ve been home by now, if it wasn’t for your dumbass.” He peered over the steering wheel, on the lookout for the upcoming turn.

“Nuh uh,”, you started, a scowl on your face, “don’t pin this on me! I don’t control the weather.”

“Whatever.”

Nero makes the right and after a couple miles of silence, the faint beacon of lit windows pierces through the gloom. Pulling into the lot in front of the inn, Nero parks the car and hops out. You follow suit and hastily trail behind him, using your bag as cover from the harsh rain. Entering the inn, you walk slowly to examine the tacky decor - artificial fish and paintings of sunny beaches mocking your drenched clothes. Nero makes a beeline to the front desk and is quick to return with a set of keys in hand.

“We got lucky. Seems like everyone had the same idea, but they had one room left.” Nero pats you on the shoulder and cocks his head toward the direction of the stairs. “C’mon.”

You nod and follow Nero up the stairs to your appointed room, sighing in relief to be out of the storm. Nero drops his backpack on the desk and stares at the single queen-sized bed in the center of the room.

“……..one bed.”

“One bed.”, you repeat. It seems that the universe thought it would be funny if you two shared a bed after a night of endless bickering and side-eyes. You eventually shrug and flop down on the bed, looking up at Nero. “I mean, we’ve slept in worse conditions, right? You remember the cyclops cave?”

That earns a tiny smile from him, chiseling away at the tension from earlier.

“Thanks for reminding me. It’s not like I spend every waking moment trying to forget the smell of decay and ball sweat.”

You both laugh and you feel the frustration slowly leave your body. Nero digs around his bag for a change of clothes and heads to the bathroom to change. You take this as your cue to do the same, pulling out a clean shirt and pair of underwear and discarding your old ones in the corner of the room. You crawl into the bed, flicking on the tv and settling in. Nero returns a few minutes later, changed and seemingly back to his easy-going self. He switches off the lights and gets into the bed, leaving some space between you both. You both watch a rerun of an old sitcom before Nero breaks the silence.

“I’m sorry for being an asshole to you. You were only trying to help, and I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you.”

The apology doesn’t take you completely by surprise, considering that Nero is the most levelheaded person you know, but you appreciate it nonetheless. You pull the covers up over you, sinking down to lay on your pillow as you address him.

“Don’t worry about it, Nero. We’ve had a long day and have gotten thrown every which way - it’s no one’s fault. Besides, I’m happy it was with you and not with anyone else, it could’ve gone a lot worse.”

Nero nods in agreement but he’s not lost on the subtle flirting in your last sentence. Nero glances down at you resting form, your eyes trained on the tv mounted to the wall. For the past few weeks, it seems you two have been dancing around the obvious for the sake of staying focused on work. But considering that you both are literally in the same bed, it’s hard to ignore now. You look up to him, his face turning a pretty pink from being caught staring.

“Was there something else?”, you ask, noting his blush.

“You’re really pretty.”

Nero blurts out the compliment, heart starting to pick up from embarrassment. ‘Reaaaal smooth, Nero. Bet Dante would get a kick out of this’, he thinks to himself. Your own face turns red in response, a shy smile on your face.

“You really think so?”

“I know so.” Nero starts, sliding down to be beside you under the covers. “And smart, funny, brave.”

You stare at him with awe, in disbelief that those words left his mouth. Without another breath, you lean to the side where he’s laying and kiss him. It’s a gentle, tentative kiss, but full of meaning and longing. Nero’s brain short-circuits and it takes a second before he returns the kiss. Slow and cautious, your mouths explore this newfound feeling. Without breaking away, Nero rolls on top of you, hands running up your sides. Feelings of excitement and anxiety intermingle in your stomach and you break the kiss to look up at him, eyes wide. Nero returns the look with concern, his hand cupping your face.

“You okay? Did…did I do something wrong?”

“No, I-“, you cut yourself off, building up confidence before speaking again. “I need to tell you something.”

Nero raises his eyebrows, interest piqued. “You know you can tell me anything.”

You gulp and take a deep breath, making sure that this is really happening. You look down at the empty space between the two of you as you speak. “I’ve never gone this far with anyone.” You pause, frowning slightly. “I mean, I’ve messed around but I’ve never actually….slept with anyone before.”

Nero runs a hand over your hair and kisses your forehead sweetly. There’s a clear look of understanding on his face. “Y/N, you don’t have anything to be sorry about. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. And if you don’t wanna do anything now, I won’t hold that against you either.”

“I want to, I’m just nervous.” Your eyes have a vulnerability to them, like you’re already standing there naked in front of him.

“It’s okay to be nervous. Fuck, I’m nervous. But, it’ll be okay, as long as you enjoy it. And if you change your mind or need me to stop, that’s okay, too.”

With his reassurance, you nod and pull him back down to reinstate the kiss. Nero sighs into your mouth, happy to be connected again. You feel his hands snake down to your thighs, running over the exposed skin with light touches. As scared as you were, everything felt right in this moment. Your own shaky hands moved to tug at his shirt to help him out of it. Nero yanks the shirt over his head before reaching to pull down your underwear. He stops and looks up at you, waiting for the green light from you; you give him an eager nod and he proceeds. You feel his fingers brush against your sensitive bud and your breathing hitches in your chest. His fingers move slow, tracing circles into your flesh as his mouth trails sweet kisses to your ear.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

Nero’s soft voice and tender touches elicits a moan from you, almost forgetting to reply to him. You turn to look at him and mumble a ‘yes’ out, hips rocking against his hand. Nero hums in content, moving his fingers to your already wet slit. He toys with the hole for a moment, testing the waters in case you change your mind. By the way you’re sighing and whimpering, he takes it as his sign to go on, pushing in two fingers slowly. Your back arches, jaw dropping silently. Pumping slowly in and out, his strong, slender fingers tease your g-spot. Your hands fly to his shoulders, gripping onto him for support. Minutes go by as your climax builds up, your walls pulsing around his fingers. Before you can warn him of the oncoming wave, his fingers slip out, making you groan in disappointment. He laughs at your noise, slipping off the rest of his clothes.

“Easy, tiger. I got more to give, believe me.”, he chuckles. Leaning down to kiss you once more, he positions himself between your legs. “Ready, pretty girl?”

You nod and smile into his mouth. “Ready.”

Aligning with your slick, Nero pushes into you with a moan of satisfaction. You bury your head in his neck, stifling a cry from being stretched. Nero’s arm comes up to wrap around your head protectively, cradling you in comfort. Once fully in, he stays still to let you adjust to the new feeling. You feel your breathing slow down and you nod again, letting him know it’s okay to move. His cock slips almost completely out of you until he pushes it back in, repeating this until he creates a steady, sensual rhythm. Mewls from you are muffled by how close Nero’s holding you - his free hand hooking under one of your knees to lift you ever so slightly. Over and over, the head of his cock hits that sweet spot and you feel your orgasm start to build back up, ready to satisfy the delay from earlier. The moment feels surreal, considering how many times you’ve dreamt of this moment, and you flex your fingers every now and then to remind yourself it’s really happening.

You look out from your safe place in Nero’s neck and see him above you - eyes shut, mouth ajar, and a sheen layer of sweat making him glisten in the light of the tv still playing. The display from him is what sets you off, knowing that you’re the cause of it. Your core tightens and those familiar electric pulses make your body quiver with pleasure.

“O-oh, god, that feels so good…. I’m gonna…gonna…”

“Let it out, I’ve got you.”

The encouragement from Nero is all you need to let go, a wave of pleasure taking over all of your senses. Your legs shake around Nero and a sound you’ve never heard from yourself before fills the room. Fuelled by your reactions, Nero chases after his own high, fucking into you passionately. Sweat dripping down his face, he looks down at you with an adoring smile before his eyes squeeze shut, followed by a series of whimpers and curses. Your walls milk him free of every drop of seed, the feeling overwhelming for him. You stare up at him in awe, your vision going in and out from your own orgasm.

His thrusts slow to a stop, allowing him to collapse on you. Both of you lay there panting, the heat of your bodies almost overbearing. You run your hand up and down Nero’s back, soothing him through the end of his orgasm. Eventually, Nero lifts his head and gives you a weak kiss, bumping his nose to yours.

“You did great, y/n. Seriously, that was….”

“Amazing.”, you finish for him, a giggle following it.

“Yeah, that.”

Nero pushes himself up and out of you, rolling onto his back beside you. He reaches over and pulls you into his arms, stationing you to lay on his chest. You can hear his heart thumping strongly, beating a lullaby to you.

“Get some rest, beautiful. You’ve earned it after that.”

You start to protest sleep but a yawn betrays you, realizing how warm and safe you feel in Nero’s arms. As minutes pass, your eyes grow heavier and soon close for the night, your breathing deep and slow. Nero’s hands tangle in the strands of your hair, twirling them mindlessly until sleep triumphs over him as well.

#nero sparda #dmc nero #nero devil may cry #nero x reader #dmc5 nero #devil may cry #dmc5 #dmc smut #devil may cry smut #dmc #smut #writing #fanfic #oneshot

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mutant-distraction · 10 months ago

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Pou Au

The Tree of Life is a 145-foot (44 m) sculpture of a baobab tree at Disney's Animal Kingdom, Walt Disney World Resort. With over 8,000 branches of very different sizes and about 102,000 artificial leaves, the sculpture debuted when the theme park opened on April 22, 1998. Inspired by the mythological concept of the same name, the Tree of Life features 337 carvings of existing and extinct animal species on its trunk and surrounding roots; after Jane Goodall's visit, her famous subject David Graybeard was carved into the tree. The sculpture took 18 months to create. Designed and fabricated at Greens Bayou Fabrication Yard in Houston and based on the natural forms of baobab trees, the Tree of Life is located on Discovery Island, roughly in the center of the park. The tree features over 100,000 thermoplastic kynar leaves. At the structure's interior base is a 428-seat theater that hosts It's Tough to Be a Bug!, a 3-D film attraction based on the 1998. Wikipedia

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blueiscoool · 10 months ago

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The Stunning Ancient Greek Mosaics of Zeugma

The ancient Greek mosaics of Zeugma in Turkey are true archaeological treasures that can still be admired at the Zeugma Mosaic Museum in Gaziantep, Turkey.

The 30,000-square-meter (320,000 square foot) museum, which opened its doors in September of 2011 is the largest mosaic museum in the world, containing 1,700 square meters (18,000 square feet) of ancient works of art.

The museum focuses on the mosaics found in Zeugma, which was originally founded as Seleucia by Seleucus I Nicator, a general in Alexander the Great’s Army, in 305 BC.

After Alexander’s death, his generals divided his empire among themselves. Although Seleucus moved his main capital to Antioch, Seleucia became an important center of trade, Hellenistic culture, and regional government under the Seleucids.

The city was populated by Greeks, Syrians, and Jews. It was an affluent city with a population of eighty thousand and in the 2nd and 3rd century BC was of sufficient stature to be compared to another great center of Hellenism, Alexandria, in Egypt.

The Roman Empire’s forces conquered the city in 64 BC, renaming it Zeugma (meaning “bridge” or “crossing” in ancient Greek).

The Romans held Zeugma until 253 AD, when the Persian Sassanids conquered the city, putting a violent end to its most significant years.

The ancient Greek mosaics of Zeugma

The treasures of Zeugma, including its vaunted mosaics, remained relatively unknown until the year 2000. Zeugma is now eighty percent underwater after it was flooded with the waters of a nearby artificial lake.

Archaeologists were alarmed at the flooding of the area and immediately began excavations to save the ancient treasures.

Most of the Greek mosaics of Zeugma, which were recovered in excellent condition, belong to the 2nd century BC preceding the Romans.

However, some of the mosaics appear to belong to the Roman era, as they depict Greek and Roman deities together.

In addition, some of the mosaics deviate from purely Hellenistic style and imagery, with archaeologists placing them in the Roman era of the city’s history.

The archaeological site of Zeugma

The archaeological site of Zeugma is a UNESCO World Heritage Center, located ten kilometers (six miles) away from Nizip within the boundaries of Gaziantep.

The preserved parts of the ancient city include the Hellenistic Agora, the Roman Agora, two sanctuaries, the stadium, the theater, two bathhouses, and the Roman legion military base.

Remains of the administrative structures of the Roman legion, the majority of the residential quarters, Hellenistic and Roman city walls, and the East, South and West necropolis can also be found there.

The archaeological site of Zeugma is of immense historical significance in the understanding of the ancient integration of Hellenistic and Semitic cultural spheres and the birth of syncretistic hybrid cultures in the region.

By Philip Chrysopoulos.

#The Stunning Ancient Greek Mosaics of Zeugma #Gaziantep Turkey #the largest mosaic museum in the world #Seleucus I Nicator #Alexander the Great #mosaic #ancient artifacts #archeology #archeolgst #history #history news #ancient history #ancient culture #ancient civilizations #roman history #greek history #greek art

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simplydannie · 7 months ago

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Inspired by and written for @gabykatttt

Velvet and Veneer are finally released from prison.

Unfortunately, Rageous is done with them. The twins are banished leaving them to the outside world for the first time in their life.

But the anger in Velvet causes a rift, leaving the twins to separate from each other… for the first time in their life.

For their crimes in Mount Rageous, they served their time in the upper city, under their rules and regulations. The under city didn’t want them. After what they did, nearly exposing the black market that drove the income for the under city, no, Under Rageous would have nothing to do with them. They were doing them favor…. People in the under city would definitely kill them.

They were 17 when they went in. Now they were 20. Could they have served more time? Yes, but why waste the resources? Rageous decided to banish them instead. They were left at the gates of Mount Rageous, near the highway that lead out into the rest of the world. There they stood, nothing but the clothes on their backs and duffle bag in hand.

The glitz and glamour gone, faded away, Velvet and Veneer stood there as they were…their true selves. Velvet in her black skin tight mini dress, combat boots, and red hoodie. Veneer wore a similar attire, except for black skinny jeans and his signature purple beanie… a long with a smile on his face. Velvet stared at the bright lights of Mount Rageous shining through the clouds, she peeked over the highway glancing out the dark, gloom below, artificial light barely shining through: Under Rageous. She balled her fists, spitting at the city below, then threw a finger to the clouds in front of her.

“Screw you Rageous!” She screamed into the air. “I don’t need you!” Grabbing her duffle bag she marched off farther along the highway. Veneer took a moment. He stared back out Rageous…it was the only home he’d had, he’d known. But no, that wasn’t true…. His home would be wherever Velvet was, that’s all that mattered. Grabbing his duffle bag, he ran after his sister.

“Vels! Wait up!” He called out after her.

Velvet heard his annoying voice. She ignored him and kept walking. For the years they were sentenced in the Mount Rageous Detention Center, she avoided him, ignored him. He tried to reach out to her, but she refused any antic. Her legs kept moving her down the highway on the clouds, the quietness and peace of everything just allowed her thoughts to multiply.

“Vels! Why do you walk so fast-whoa!” Veneer glanced up. The further they got away from Rageous, the clearer the sky became. Veneer saw what the actual sky looked like for the first time… it wasn’t dull, but rather a beautiful dark blue. Why was it sparkly? Were those diamonds? No, he read about them before… they were called stars. As far as Veneer knew, they were the first Rageouns to set foot outside in a long time. When he came back to his senses he saw Velvet drifted farther and farther. Picking up his pace, he ran after his sister.

Velvet neared the end of the highway, the smells of the outside world were hitting her. She continued to walk with no sense of direction as she hugged herself. Velvet could hear footsteps approaching from behind.

“Vels… can you….just…. Slow down…. For a bit….” Veneer caught his breath. She rolled her eyes. Glancing back, Rageous was not just a speck…had they really walked that far. Velvet turned to face the direction ahead of her…. It separated into two roads.

“Whoa.” Veneer stated as he waked up to the tree that was at the center. It big and beautiful, leaves stemming out from the branches. It was alive, unlike the dead woods in Under Rageous. “Velvet! Look! Leaves! And…” He touched them. “They’re real! Not like the fake crap back in Rageous.”

Velvet furrowed her brow. He was to happy for his own good, and this frustrated her. How could he be so happy? They had everything, and now they have nothing. What the hell was wrong with him? He touched the giant roots stemming out of the ground, acting like it was a big joke.

“Are you kidding me right now?” She finally broke her silence after all these years. Finally, she dare speak a word to him. “Are you freaking kidding me right now?”

“What?” He gaped at her clueless. Did she not see that they were actually surrounding by living trees? That the sky was in fact out there. What was her deal?

“We’re banished from Rageous Veneer! Doesn’t that bother you one bit?” She tossed her duffle bag to the ground out of anger.

“Honestly… no not really.” He shrugged.

“Oh my gosh! And you act as of nothing still! Don’t you remember what happened those years ago! At the Rage Dome? Or are you like seriously pretending nothing ever did happen!?”

“Seriously Vels? I remember what happened clearly. I remember us nearly killing Floyd just because we wanted to be famous.” He aired quoted.

“We were famous Ven!” She screamed, her voice echoing through the wide empty world.

“Were we really?” Veneer couldn’t believe it…all these years, his sister still thought about the fame… she still longed for it. “Velvet, it was all a lie. None of it was really real because we weren’t really real. I’ll admit, it felt good for a little while…but we were living a lie. I’m happier now Vels.”

“AARRGGG!” She through her hands up in the air in frustration. “You’re such an idiot Veneer! The only reason you ever made it this far was because of me! ME! Maybe I should’ve taken that gig up on my own and left YOU to rot in Under Rageous. I still would’ve been up on top, not out here in this godforsaken place stuck with the worst, most idiotic person ever! Not to mention ungrateful. Everything I did for you Veneer! And you throw that under the bus for some stupid Troll. I wish you were never born, I wish that stupid sickness would’ve just you; save me the trouble! I HATE YOU VENEER!”

Veneer silently held back tears as her words stung his heart. “…You don’t mean that..” He said almost silently.

“I mean EVERY. SINGLE. WORD!” There was a glint of discuss and hatred in her eyes that her brother had never seen, expecially towards him. “You know what I should’ve done.” She walked straight up to him. Out of fear he backed away, stumbing and falling on top of a root of the tree that stuck out….Her shadow casing over him….

“I should’ve taken that solo gig. That’s right, they offered me a solo career. They saw potential in me. They saw how I had everyone eating out of my hands. But you know what I said…She shoved him, causing him to fall off the root and onto the ground. “I said no! I said no because of you! You stupid, stupid, idiot! I said no because I was thinking of you! And this is how you repay me!”

Veneer clenched his hands into fist as he stood up to face her…She was still taller than him…and she always would be.

“I was thinking of you to Velvet! You were going crazy! You didn’t see what I saw that day at the Rage Dome! It’s like I wasn’t even looking at my sister! I was staring at some evil, greedy monster. A shell of what you were! You were going crazy, something about that Trolls essence was making you loose your mind Vels! I couldn’t risk it. I was afraid of loosing you!” he finally confessed. All these years…he shouldve told her why he did what he did. Yes, it was because of nearly killing Floyd, but it was also the fact that he saw a madness in Velvet that day, a madness that truly put fear in his heart. But judging by the look she was giving him…she didn’t believe him, she didn’t believe him, or she didn’t care.

“Didn’t want to loose me huh?” She walked back and picked up her duffle bag. “You did the moment you opened your stupid big mouth.” She began walking down the left road. Veneer quickly went over to pick up his bag and began to follow her. Velvet turned around and violently pushed him to the ground again. “DONT YOU DARE FOLLOW ME! WE’RE DONE VENEER! GROW UP AND GET OUT OF MY SIGHT! I NEVER. EVER. EVER. EVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN!” She screamed, her breathing heavy out of anger.

“Vels…You…You don’t mean that…”He said softly again, tears coming to his eyes.

“GO AWAY! GET OUT OF HERE BEFORE I SERIOUSLY HURT YOU! JUST LIKE YOU’VE HURT ME! YOU’RE DEAD TO ME VENEER!” She kicked dirt in his face before walking away from him.

“Vels.” He called out as he still sat on the ground. “VELS!” He screamed. He scrambled to his feet trying to pick up his bag. Veneer was distraught, hurt, lost, he stubbled step after step, continueing to fall down to the ground, tears stining his eyes. “VELS!” Her figure grow smaller and smaller the farther she walked, the farther she got away from him. His vision blurred as tears began running down his eyes.

His heart began racing as the loneliness set in….his anixety taking control of his body as his breathing heavied and his heart pace quickened. He scrambled back near the roots of the tree and hugged his knees. If he got up now, he could still catch up to her… he could still fix…but he felt that no matter what, Velvet was done with him, seriously done. Three years ago at the Rage Dome, he didn’t want to loose….but he did, he lost her…she hated him.

Burying his face into his knees he began to cry; they echoed into the cold night. Slowly he began to accept that he was truly alone now, that Velvet was done with him. Where could he go? He was banished from Rageous, Velvet would continue to turn him away or abadon him somewhere worse…Perhaps he should continue walking until…

“Oh!” He lifted his tear stricken face away from his knees. He grabbed his duffle bag and began digging around for them….the letters he would write to Floyd. Veneer had placed them into a box he made while at the Detention Center. They were denied visitors, but the little Troll continued to write to Veneer in those three years of isolation…Velvet would never respond to her letters. He shuffled and went through every single one, until he came upon the letter he was looking for:

Veneer,

So glad to hear you guys will be getting out soon! Since you’re free now, how about a visit to Pop Troll Village? Poppy and the rest agreed that a visit would be okay, even healing for all of us. Write to me as soon as you guys plan to head over so we can have things prepared! Don’t know where to go? Don’t worry, I attached a map I made during my travels. I really hope to see you guys again one day. I wonder how much you’ve matured, it’s been what, three years?

Hope to hear from you soon buddy,

Floyd.

Veneer turned over the letter to find the map that connected Ragous to the location of Pop Troll Village. He swallowed the lump in his throat. He didn’t know what to expect out there. This world was completely new to him. Unlike that “nature” in Rageous, it was alive. Perhaps though, unlinet the Rageous Woods, it wasn’t as dangerous? He only hoped, and there was only one way for him to find out. Veneer stood up, swung his duffle bag over his shoulder, and began walking oppostite from the road Velvet walked down. He was half way down when he suddenly stopped. Veneer turned to the direction his sister walked off too, tears slwoly coming back.

“Good-bye, Vels….Good luck….Love you sis.” He murmured wiping his tears away….He made his treck towards Pop Troll Village.

…to be continued (?)

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skyward-floored · 4 months ago

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No-pressure downfall iau prompt (due to your recent post of "not sure what to do with it next"): if Time really is alive, and being held, potentially experimented on, does Hyrule ever see him? Do they know each other? Are they allowed to be sort-of friends through the horrors?

Thank you very much anon, this gave me serious brainworms >:)

...

Link didn’t leave the clinic.

Mostly because he wasn’t allowed to, and he was still being watched more closely after the last time he tried an escape, but it had been months now since he’d last stepped foot outside the group of rooms his movements were confined to.

He had his tiny room in the back, with a bed and blanket and single bag of personal items (that had all been thoroughly searched and examined). There was the main room of the clinic that was designated specifically for him to heal in, and one other, which served as a waiting area for if there were multiple people needing help.

The outside doors were kept locked and guarded, and everyone knew he wasn’t allowed outside of them. Except for on the extremely rare occasions when a patient couldn’t be brought to him, and Link had to be taken to them. It barely ever happened, but when it did, Link always jumped at the possibility for fresh air and different surroundings, even if it was only for an hour or two.

It was something to look forward to, as silly as it seemed.

So when Link woke up one morning and was told he was being taken to heal a patient who couldn’t be moved, he couldn’t help but be a little excited.

He was less excited when he was blindfolded and guided away into a vehicle of some kind, none too gently. That had... never really happened before. But Link had felt the brief warmth of sunshine on his face before he’d been taken to the car, and a breeze had ruffled his hair, so he was happy despite the itchy cloth over his eyes.

Link tried counting how long they drove, but he’d lost track of time by the time the car finally stopped. He was then bustled outside (outside!) again before entering a building, then taken through all sorts of twists and turns and down stairs he nearly tripped on because he couldn’t see.

Finally his blindfold was removed though, and Link blinked in the harsh artificial lighting, trying to get his eyes to adjust.

And when they did, his stomach churned.

He was in a bright room, mostly empty apart from some medical equipment and a desk with a computer. A man was lying on what looked like an operating table in the center of the room, his face almost as white as the lighting above them. It made the scar across his eye stick out all the more starkly, but Link’s attention was drawn more to his middle.

Dark, jagged lines spread all along his bare chest, like dark lightning tearing across his skin. Sweat glistened off his face, and Link couldn’t tell at first if he was breathing or not he was so still.

“What... what’s wrong with him?” Link asked without thinking. His supervisor gave him a look, and Link took a deep breath. “I’ll be able to heal him better if I know what’s wrong.”

“He took badly to an experiment we were conducting. The damage is largely in his chest. You can figure it out from there,” a woman in the room Link hadn’t noticed until now said coldly, and Link was pushed forward. “Do not disappoint us. He poses a significant investment.”

Link flinched at the touch, but went forward, approaching the man on the table with a worried look. Those lines didn’t look like anything he’d ever seen before... could he even heal them? If it was poison he wouldn’t be able to fix anything except the damage it caused, he couldn’t remove the toxin itself. He learned that the hard way once.

Link lightly touched where the worst of the lines were, and the man let out a soft groan, his eyelids flickering.

“It’s okay, I’m going to heal you,” Link said, lighting up his hands.

The man’s eyes opened a little further, and Link stared, then tried to ignore the way the one under the scar was missing its pupil, and glowing a bit. How on earth did that happen?!

The man looked blearily at the light in Link’s hands, then at his face, and his exhausted and weak expression suddenly changed to grief.

“You’re so young...” the man rasped, and Link froze when he raised a shaking hand to rest on his cheek. “You shouldn’t... be here...”

“I... p-please hold still, sir, I need to heal you,” Link said, practiced words rolling off his tongue even while he was still frozen in place from the hand on his cheek.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been touched like that.

The man looked at him a moment longer, then hummed weakly in acknowledgement before closing his eyes again. His hand fell back to his side, and Link noticed it was trembling a bit.

He took a deep breath, trying to ignore the bothersome emotions that had been triggered, and set his hands over the jagged lines, letting his powers sink in.

They trickled into the man’s skin, and Link felt it like a punch to the gut when they hit the dark lines. They were almost like burns, but colder and jagged, unnatural and deep. It was almost like the skin had decayed, and Link’s stomach rolled as his powers recoiled. But he gently coaxed them forward, doing his best to fix the damage.

It was a hard fight. It was like the injury didn’t want to be healed, his powers wrestling with whatever it was that had hurt the man, and Link felt himself start to shake the longer it took, sweat pouring down his face.

He was starting to think he’d pass out before he could do it, but then something flickered under his fingertips, something... responding to his powers.

Link sucked in a breath, and drew on the flicker without hesitation, letting it help him. Something about it felt deeply powerful, if weakened, and Link realized it must be the man’s powers trying to help him along. With their help, the strange decay that had taken hold began to lessen, and finally heal, and Link pushed his powers forward, letting it spread all over the man’s chest, everywhere he could reach.

And suddenly he knew he’d done it.

Link harshly exhaled, and pulled his hands back, his fingers violently trembling. He began to tilt sideways, but strong arms caught him, keeping him from collapsing even with the way his legs were shaking.

“Easy,” a soft voice said, and Link opened hazy eyes to see the man he’d healed sitting up, stopping him from falling.

Link blinked at him, his vision swimming unpleasantly, and the man scanned his face, a concerned look settling on his own. If Link were more lucid, he might pick up on the anger that was there as well.

“You didn’t need to push yourself that far,” he said worriedly, and Link just shook his head.

“They wouldn’ settle for an unfinished job,” he slurred, and the man gave him an even more worried look.

“I’m not worth wearing yourself out for,” he said quietly.

Link blinked at him, and then harsh arms grabbed Link and pulled him away, nearly sending him to the ground.

He blearily raised his head once he caught his bearings, watching as the man on the table attempted to get up and go after him. But Link’s powers didn’t fix exhaustion. The man’s limbs shook, and by the time he maybe would have stood, a flood of blurry people had entered the room and pushed him back down. Two dark bands were slapped on his wrists, and Link watched with a sharp feeling of outrage as the man was wrestled back to the table and then strapped there.

“W... what’re you...” Link mumbled, and the woman who’d spoken earlier glanced at him.

“He’s going back where he belongs. As should you, since your work here is finished,” she said. “Take him back, we’re done here.”

The arms that had pulled Link away gripped him tighter, and began tugging him towards the door. Despite the way Link’s vision was darkening at the edges, he got one last look at the man, feeling a distant spark of relief at the sight of his chest free from the dark lightning that had been there before.

He was healed.

He’d saved him from that at least.

The man was struggling viciously against his bonds, a fire in his eyes that hadn’t been there before Link had healed him. His face softened when he saw Link watching him though, and he mouthed a silent thank you, that grief back in his eyes.

To which Link could only reply with a smile, right before his world faded completely to black.

#a few years before wind and Four show up #so... who knows what happened to Time after this...#answers from the floor #anon #downfall iau #and dw about hyrule he’s ok. just needs a nice long nap and some food

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heavensdoorways · 1 year ago

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Gate of All Nations The Gate of Xerxes -UNESCO World Heritage (r. 486 – 465 BC) Persepolis - IRAN

The bronze trumpets that once signaled the arrival of important foreign delegations to Persepolis, the ceremonial capital of the mighty Achaemenid Empire, may now be silent, but it is still possible to capture the sense of awe while visiting the colossal Gate of Xerxes.

Built during the reign of Achaemenid king Xerxes I , who called this his Gate of All Nations, the pillared entrance is guarded by bearded and hoofed mythical figures in the style of Assyrian gate-guards.

On arrival at Persepolis one is confronted by an imposing wall, completely smooth and plain, about 15 meters tall: this is the artificial terrace on which the palaces were built. This vast terrace of Persepolis, some 450 meters long and 300 meters wide, was originally fortified on three sides by a tall wall. The only access was from the monumental staircase, which leads to the Gate of All Nations.

The gateway bears a cuneiform inscription in Old Persian, Neo-Babylonian, and Elamite languages declaring, among other things, that Xerxes is responsible for the construction of this and many beautiful wonders in Persia. Centuries of graffitists have also left their mark, including explorer Henry Morton Stanley.

A pair of colossal bulls guarded the western entrance; two man-bulls stood at the eastern doorway. Engraved above each of the four colossi is a trilingual inscription attesting to Xerxes having built and completed the gate. The doorway on the south, opening toward the Apadana, is the widest of the three.

According to sources, pivoting devices found on the inner corners of all the doors indicate that they must have had two-leaved doors, which were probably made of wood and covered with sheets of ornamented metal.

Persepolis, also known as Takht-e Jamshid, whose magnificent ruins rest at the foot of Kuh-e Rahmat ("Mountain of Mercy"), was the ceremonial capital of the Achaemenid Empire. It is situated 60 kilometers northeast of the city of Shiraz in Fars Province.

Persepolis was the seat of the government of the Achaemenid Empire, though it was designed primarily to be a showplace and spectacular center for the receptions and festivals of the kings and their empire.

The royal city ranks among the archaeological sites which have no equivalent, considering its unique architecture, urban planning, construction technology, and art.

The city was burnt by Alexander in 330 BC apparently as revenge to the Persians

The immense terrace of Persepolis was begun about 518 BC by Darius the Great, the Achaemenid Empire’s king. On this terrace, successive kings erected a series of architecturally stunning palatial buildings, among them the massive Apadana palace and the Throne Hall (“Hundred-Column Hall”).

This 13-ha ensemble of majestic approaches, monumental stairways, throne rooms (Apadana), reception rooms, and dependencies is classified among the world’s greatest archaeological sites.

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justbelievinginmagic · 7 months ago

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ariadne's thread ⎯ pt. 3: onwards & downwards.

pairing(s): hyunjin x fem!reader series summary: when tempted by an intoxicating offer by hyunjin the goblin king of the underground, you fight against him to find your own sense of self once more while in his labyrinth. glimpse: alone, you take some twists and turns that lead you deeper into the belly of the Labyrinth. warnings/tags: inspired by the 1986' movie Labyrinth, follows majority of the movie's plot points with lore divergence, 3rd person POV, use of Y/N, some violence, some mild injuries, world building!!, strong language, faerie lore!!, some light groping by Helping Hands but nothing explicit, cameo by knight!hoseok and knight!seokjin! word count: 4.8k previous chapter <- -> next chapter series masterlist

The old dusty, cobblestone path shifted the longer she trekked through the Labyrinth. From something aged and grey to a more tan, refined structure of brink. No longer was she watching for raised bricks that she could stumble over and cobwebs of grand spider-silk wefts she could tumble into. It was far more maintained with its tall walls of oak-brown stones. The watch towers soon were exchanged for simple decorative sphere balls; some hollowed structures to have a flame flickering within.

There were still rock and rubble, hugging the corners of the path, but, for the majority, it felt like she had entered a different portion of the Labyrinth. It felt like progress. And that made her giddy. She felt a tumble of adrenaline in her stomach, something urging her forward as she continued to turn and weave throughout the endless Labyrinth.

She didn’t know how much time had passed, but when she peered up onto her tip-toes to look over the walls as best as she could, she saw she was long gone from the beginning of the Labyrinth with the curly-haired fae, Soobin, and Yeonjun.

All by herself.

Looking for signs of the castle, she had to turn completely around to find its looming shadow. The rolling Labyrinth ahead made it look higher than where she was, if possible. How did it end up behind her? How did it seem to loom as if she was in a deep valley and it on a hillside? That hadn’t been the case outside the Labyrinth. Despite that oddity, the Runner smiled and headed on her way towards the castle.

She can do this. She was on a roll.

Twisting through the pathways was easy. One foot in front of another. There were no signs of other folk, not like before. In fact, some areas of the Labyrinth looked surprisingly well tended. There were ivy covering some of the walls, but it was not brittle and dying like outside the Labyrinth. It was thriving as it crept towards the artificial light of the high-floating candles. Some brittle branches were dead, but it seemed the further into the Labyrinth the more life flourished.

There were the large obelisks at the center of some of the pathways. These were much taller than the ones outside of the Labyrinth, and they weren’t cracking or crumbled. They stood tall with elaborate carvings on each of its faces now.

The Runner paused at each one, hoping they could help her. Maybe they held a story or hints to where she was. Each one as elaborate as the last. Some portrayed the tale of baby-snatching goblins; others illustrated mushroom faerie rings and their powers. There were some carvings of a young girl who was gilded in gold and a man painted in white robes.

As she crept along, she saw a face that looked like the Goblin King’s but younger with an inscription below in that unfamiliar language. He was painted with a gold halo – almost angelical.

It was interesting. She wondered if these were like painted glass windows of churches, retelling lore of the Underground or if they were simply décor. Old myths or moments of the past that were mute as dust. After all, they were stuck here in the Labyrinth.

They didn’t help – she knew that. None really felt like they could point her left or right or that way or this way. So, she continued onwards.

Her eyes took in the landmarks – a trail of ivy, the obelisk with faerie magic rings, a twisted branch with sparkling dewdrops.

Down this path, and then the next. Is this the way or that the way? No, no… she had seen that branch before. Pausing, her lips formed a straight line, and her brow furrowed.

“You’ve gone in circles thrice, Y/N,” a voice taunted and jested in her ear, the brush of phantom lips against her skin eerily familiar.

Her hair rustled in the wind with the sound. It made her stomach dance as she realized it was his voice. Gooseflesh raised on her arms as she turned her head towards the voice. Only to be greeted with nothing.

His laughter shook her; it felt like it shook the rock walls of the Labyrinth even. She heard a scattering of a raven’s caw as a bird-like creature flew away from its perch atop a sphere rock atop the walls.

“Only 10 more hours, my Runner,” he hummed again.

It felt like he was beside her, murmuring the soft words into her hair. It sent chills down her spine as the cool air of his breath tickled her ear. She did shiver when she felt a phantom chill on the apple of her cheek – like a kiss from a ghost. It was icy cold, taunting, and most of all unnerving. She jumped away before walking off quickly, in a direction she wasn’t quite certain of.

There was no laughter, and she didn’t know if he was still there. Or was he everywhere? It made her feel like someone was watching her. Leering at her. Her footsteps were quicker now as she walked down another path until… she saw the same tree branch again.

“Dammit,” she bit out through her teeth.

She has been going in circles.

How could she keep track of where she was going?

Looking about, she saw there was pile of rubble. Picking up a rock, she tested it against the fine stone of the floor. The flat tiles were more organized and leveled than the cobblestone of the earlier pathways. Gritting her teeth, she hoped this worked as she dragged down the rock against the tile. An unpleasant scratching noise occurred but there was what she wanted. A line carved into the soft tile.

It was her way to keep track of where she’s been – her string of thread within the Labyrinth.

Adding an arrow pointing towards her next choice – turning left - she felt triumphant.

Her smile was cunning, almost a mimicry of the King’s. She rose to her feet, energized as she began her trek.

She wasn’t so dumb.

Every so often, she’d pause and kneel to scratch her path onwards onto the ground.

The Goblin King chuckled as he waved a glass bauble aside, a projection of the Runner within its shimmering surface. As he let it go, it floated off into oblivion, devoid of magic and becoming nothing but a regular soap-like bubble rather than a portal to view and affect his kingdom.

Sighing out, impatience clung to his bones as he slung a leg over his throne’s arm rest. The throne was a worn thing, not something of greatness. It wasn’t painted in jewels or gold or ever blooming flowers. It was a simple circular throne, large, with a comfortable cushion of dark velvet. It was elevated above the main floor of the room, forever placing the King above his subjects. The arm rest and backrest were one singular curving bone that had many crushed night-sky drapes tied to it. If anything, it looked like a crescent moon dragging along the night sky.

He was comfortable here, but impatient and, frankly, annoyed by the chatter about. His gaze rose to rest on the grand clock, currently hovering above the doorway of his throne room.

If you could call it a throne room. . . In true Goblin fashion, the entire place has become more and more decrepit over the years. Not in the sense it was falling apart like parts of the Labyrinth. It just was messy. A mish-mash of different eras of goblin elite lived in this space forevermore.

Old memories of his father’s court lingered by way of reckless Changeling-Goblins who had little respect for much, causing chaos or drinking honeyed mead ‘til they drowned in it. Even older remnants of the previous Goblin Kings remained with old shrines to fae folk long passed decorating the walls in grand sculptures. The décor wasn’t to Hyunjin’s liking.

The large throne room was in the highest tower of the castle. With mostly open space, the circular interior had dark greys rockwork building it up. Platforms for goblins and goblettes of all shapes and sizes were perched in the tower’s rafters. Creatures from Aboveground, stolen or sacrificed, hobbled about, crowing or hissing. Sometimes there was a puff of magic and a goblin would mimic a chicken or snake to the amusement of his onlookers.

Fae folk of the higher court – with their humanistic glamour and aged visuals - were gossiping about in the alcoves, donning old lace and leathered finery of Court standards long passed. It was never quiet in his throne room. It had become less of his throne-room and more of a gathering space for the court.

Which he despised.

Hyunjin didn’t like gatherings of drunkard goblins and fae-folk. He hadn’t in sometime since he’s taken the throne. In his younger years as Prince, he adored the Court life. Preened on his soon-to-be-subjects’ attention. Before he realized, like a child with toys he outgrew, he didn’t want something simple any longer.

He liked challenges. And the Challenge of the Labyrinth was the truest challenge there was in the Underground. It wasn’t often someone wished themselves away – it used to be village children wished away by towns, babes by their frustrated mothers, forgotten sacrifices to deities unknown, or woeful wanderers in the woods who would be taken by passing through faerie rings.

The wisher – or the taken - would take up the Challenge in exchange for the return of what they so desired – the babe they wished away foolhardily or their ability to return to the mortal realm. Or they’d stay and once 24 hours of time Underground passed, their humanity was the King’s.

His father oversaw these Challenges and, now, so did Hyunjin.

Y/N wasn’t his first Runner through the Labyrinth; most didn’t make it far and none have won against him. He treated his Labyrinth like a game board. It was a game he had studied since adolescence. He knew the rules inside and out, and he liked to win.

Despite this, he can’t recall whom the previous Runners were anymore. Trophies gather dust in his kingdom – sometimes their visages blend together. One had a dimpled smile and blonde hair; another a crooked snaggletooth and soft eyes… or was it reversed? They all failed in their runs and, therefore, were changed. Wishes and deals were magic, and magic was steadfast and always. Nothing can stop it – not even the King.

Their human blood turned to goblin. And goblin-blood took more than it gave; changelings were proof of that. They lose their humanity and something else. Sometimes it’s their talent, or their wits, or their will, or themselves entirely. Some maintained their human-touch, and some shriveled into the very winged, yellow eyed creatures they were trying to conquer. A shadow of themselves and utterly lost.

Hyunjin had at first tried to take care of his Changelings – his father had before him, before he lost everything he had – but it was frustratingly boring. Some whined; some lost their minds. Most were sent off into the castle or the city. Some wandered off. Hyunjin let them most times. After all, he had gotten what he had wanted. Like a spoilt kingling.

There were few Challenges in this day and age. Most of his Changelings were eras old by now.

Hyunjin remembered how his father was overlooking a Challenge every other 13 hours it felt. The older man smiling fondly at the goblins about him. Tending to his changelings with the fondness of a father. He knew their names – given and chosen.

Hyunjin could count those he knew the chosen name of on one hand.

Given names were a different story. Given names were something one kept close to their chest. Hyunjin loved to know given names. He loved having the upper-hand.

Which of course is why his throne room was a circus to the court.

He loved knowing things that happen in his land and what better way to learn that by listening. Listen and give those food and mead and other pleasantries. His goblin-blooded folk were simple. The room a cacophony of noise as they scurried about, chittering and chattering and clanging. Maid-folk and servants rushed to try to clean the mess the goblins left behind. There were few fae-folk of human glamour that were more tamed, lounging beside the open-windows of the tower as if they could spot the Runner. Gossiping at how this one hadn’t given up yet.

Interesting. Intriguing. Insulting.

Hyunjin huffed as his gaze flickered from the clock to the court ladies by the window and back again.

“Can you spot her?” The voice sounded like the garble of a river’s brook, crackling and clinking like rushing currents against river-rocks.

“No, no. Can you?” Another voice - squeaky like a mouse in a field.

“Not quite. I’ve heard something from a guard though.” A third - deep like a fire pit’s roar.

His gaze flickered back to the clock. The clock ticked one second forward, and yet it had felt like five minutes. His fingers tapped against his scepter.

The Runner was taking forever.

It almost humored him. Impatience. Time hadn’t mattered before – but as she stumbled through the Labyrinth’s Outer Rim, he was struck with the realization that she was progressing quicker than any other.

“You won’t believe it, but Han helped her – I heard it from a guard. A fallen pixie tattled for aid.”

Hyunjin’s ears perked at the mention of that.

“Luella! Don’t let the King hear you say his name.” The river-brook voice garbled with a giggle.

“Oh, Han.” The mouse-like fae squeaked with a giggle and swooned into her cohorts. “I miss him.”

Chortles of giggles escaped the trio, their glamours shuddering and revealing their true forms – flickering of flames, moving mist, and, frightening enough, a collection of writhing mice making up a body.

Hyunjin’s jaw clenched as he slung his leg down from his throne’s curved armrest to put his arms on his knees and stare at the clock, harder.

Of course, Han had to have helped her. He’s always getting into his private business. His foot tip-tapped against the tiled floor.

9 hours and 58 minutes. 9 hours and 57 minutes.

She will be his and his alone.

The Runner kept running onwards. Stopping every so often to scratch her directions into the rock work. It felt like she was making progress. Until she paused as she turned a corner. There was a branch that looked a bit too familiar. The curl of it looked like a skeleton hand pointing her away.

Biting her lip, she looked back the way she came only to spot something unusual. The stone she had tagged with her rock was bare of any marking.

“What?” she breathed as she rushed over to it once more. Her hand reached out to rub at the stone – right where she had scratched into it – to feel unblemished stone.

She marked it again, scratching deep into the rock, and watched it with a stoney look. It stayed like any mark should.

Weird.

She looked back in the direction she was headed and when she looked back down, the stone was clear.

“Dammit,” she cursed out, rising from her crouch and tossing her rock aside with a clatter. “That’s not fair!”

“That’s not fair,” the wind mocked; the King’s voice laughed.

She glared up at the cavern sky of candles before stomping off in another direction only to run into a dead end; a large grassy hedge blocking her path.

“This isn’t a fair fight – what’s fair about moving the Labyrinth?’ she gritted out as she turned her back to the hedge to stomp off another way.

“That’s right! It’s not fair!” a voice chimed out.

Now, that wasn’t the King’s voice. Its voice was higher, almost windshield-wiper squeaky as it giggled.

Her head whipped around to see, not a wall of greenery, but two knights guarding grand oxidizing- copper doors, crawling with ivy. They looked very different from anyone she had met yet. Not the worn look of the fae from outside the Labyrinth nor the soft sheltered attire Soobin wore. No, they both were knights that was certain.

They were both tall but one felt larger; mostly, due to the large armor he wore. It was a copper-like metal, flickering orange in the candlelight high above them. Shoulders, chest, neck, legs, everything had the suit of armor in place as if he was ready to go into a fight here and now (except for the fact it too looked rusty like the blue-orange doors they guarded.) How long must he have worn it to become rusted like that? His head, however, was bare of a shielded helmet and, instead, revealed a red-headed sweet-faced man with a heart-shaped smile.

The other knight was much more relaxed, wearing sparse leathered armor over a deep navy-blue velvet button-up and dark slacks. His hair was a dark coal color, swept to one side. He had lips that were a pouted strawberry color and a hyena laugh in his throat.

The red head was ready at attention while the coal-haired man was slouching against his doorway’s arch spinning his sword casually in his hand.

“Oh, hello!” she sputtered at the two strangers.

“Hello, hello!” The redhead greeted as he stood at attention. He smiled at her still, heart-shaped kind.

“You’re here!” The other awed. “Finally!”

“Finally?” she queried.

“I mean, we’ve heard you’ve been here and knew you’d end up here.” One said.

“It’s so nice to meet a real human for the first time,” the other cheesed.

“It isn’t the first time, Jin,” the heavily-armored one claimed with a pursed lip.

“Yes, it is, Hobi,” Jin retorted, as if offended by the others words.

“No, it isn’t,” Hobi replied.

Then, the bickering continued, back and forth. Back and forth. It made Y/N’s head pound. Her eyes shut as she looked about a bit lost with what to do. Behind her was a new dead end, made of cobblestone wall rather than green hedge-work.

God, this place kept changing it’d give her a headache… if Hobi and Jin didn’t first.

“Where is here? It was a dead-end just a moment ago,” she countered. “I need to get to the Castle; is this the way?”

“Oh, this is the checkpoint to the next point of your journey,” Hobi beamed. “The only way to get out of here is to try one of these doors!”

“One of them leads to the castle at the center of the Labyrinth, and the other leads to certain death,” Jin revealed, leaning against the opposing archway of his door.

“Bum-bum-bum-bah!” he dramatized, with a wiggle of his fingers in her direction.

Hobi giggled sweetly. It was almost endearing as if they were some middle-aged married couple with their bickering and yet… they seemed to enjoy each other’s presence.

One must learn to like the person they’re stuck with if there are no others around them.

“So… which is which? You must know,” Y/N prompted.

“We can’t tell you,” Hobi said with a frown. “And we don’t really know why we can’t either.” His pout was gentle and child-like.

“It’s the rules,” Jin reminded.

“You can only ask one of us a question regarding the doors,” Hobi added.

“That’s part of the rules, too,” Jin commented. “One of us always tell the truth and one of us always lies. That’s a rule too.”

His blue eyes flashed to meet hers as he raised a hand up in a mock-whisper. “He always lies.”

“I do not!” Hobi exclaimed; there was a clank of metal against metal as he jumped in offense. His orange eyes flashed to meet hers, almost panicky to prove himself.

“I tell the truth!” he insisted.

“Oh, what a liar,” Jin cooed, reaching a hand to pinch Hobi’s cheek.

It quickly made Hobi giggle lightheartedly as if he wasn’t just called a liar again. Their relationship was odd, bubbly, and cranky yet fond and casual. It was distracting.

“One question,” she hummed as she looked between the two of them.

Jin nodded slowly as he shifted to stand tall in front of his door. A brow raised.

Okay. . . how would she figure this out? She only had one chance. How should she phrase it? She can’t just ask them if their door would be safe? Because they could lie. But—

Y/N smiled.

“Would he,” she pointed to Jin, as she spoke to Hobi,” tell me that your door leads to the castle?”

Hobi’s lips pressed together as he looked at Jin and then her, over and over. It was almost comical if she wasn’t waiting for the answer.

“Yes?” he murmured after a moment. It sounded more like a question than an answer.

“So, your door is certain death,” she said, “and his leads to the castle.”

Y/N beamed brightly.

Hobi looked towards Jin who shrugged in agreement.

“But—he could be telling the truth?” Hobi countered.

“But, he wouldn’t be. So, if you told me he’d say yes, I know the answer is no.”

“But, I could be telling the truth,” Hobi pleaded.

“But then he would be lying, so if you told me he would say yes, the answer is still no!”

A blink, blink, blink from Hobi before he turned to Jin with wide fire eyes.

“Is that right?” he whispered as if she wasn’t there, and, to be honest, she giggled a bit. Because she knew this had to be the right answer – it had to be.

“I don’t know; I never really got the rules,” Jin replied casually before the two of them started to giggle.

The three of them were giggling; it was a bit odd but she realized everything here was a bit odd.

“I think it’s right, really I do,” she commented. “There’s no other way it wouldn’t be… I think I’m getting smarter with this place.” Y/N approached Jin and he scooted out of the way with grandiose.

He bowed to her as she opened the door.

“Thank you, Jin… Hobi – I mean, you were actually really nice!” she complimented as she breached through the door way.

A huff let her as she felt her shoulders lighten from stress. She did it. She took a few more steps into the passageway, the light growing dimmer as Jin began to shut the door.

“It’s a piece of cake,” she breathed with a grin.

Before, she fell through the floor violently with a scream.

Not many people experience free-falling. Sure, tripping or stumbling was common-place. Even jumping into a pool might excite. But it was all controlled. All small distances. All happening with an end in sight.

The Runner was falling straight down into a dark pit that felt endless.

The feeling of surprise hadn’t faded, still bubbling in her stomach like she had cracked open a soda can. Her heart was in her throat as she screeched out. Hands above her head trying to grasp onto something hopelessly.

But she was falling too fast.

“Help!” She screamed. “Please!”

The fall felt infinite, empty, frighteningly so until it felt like things were brushing over her skin. Branches? Rocks? Overgrown damp fungus? She couldn’t tell as she scratched out with her hands

“Help?” she swore she heard a feminine voice chime.

“Help!” Y/N screeched again. “Please.”

Before with a jolt, she was caught. Air knocked out of her and a pain radiated where she had been caught – her arm. Something held first her wrist but then she felt hands on her waist, her shoulders, her legs. Hands everywhere wrapping around her limbs, some squeezing them tightly, others trailing damp-fingers up and down her skin.

She couldn’t help the scream that tore from her throat, raw. Jumping in the hands embrace.

“Stop it,” she whimpered out as she felt more hands crawling, crawling, crawling.

One poked her ear and it made her jolt away. Her head looked up as if she could see where she fell from.

“Help!” she yelled. Maybe Jin or Hobi would come help. They were knights; knights help, right?

Another hand crept to squeeze at her throat, almost curiously, only stopping when she wheezed. The hand wrapped around her wrist tugged her upwards, another hand tugged her another way. She felt like a ragdoll amongst angry toddlers

“Hey, hey, hey,” she heard a masculine voice mutter. “We are helping. Helping Hands.”

In the dim almost grey light, she some of the hands form … figures. Faces of different shapes made of fingers and thumbs and palms. Horrific in the darkness. Something mussed her hair, twisting it into knots around chubby fingers.

“You’re hurting,” she mumbled, as a sickly pale hand cupped her cheeks and squeezed them.

“Would you like us to let go?” the voice was now a deep mumble of a thing, and she felt some of the hands release her on command. The pressure on her held wrists ached as gravity took hold and pulled her downwards. Her shoulders felt like they were popping out of their sockets.

“No!” she screeched, fingers outstretching to grasp onto a corpse-cold hand.

The hands returned with eagerness. Nails scratching at bare skin, fingers prodding at her waist. A thumb dragged over her ankle. Some fingers combed through her hair like she was a doll.

“I want a body,” she heard a voice murmured quietly.

She couldn’t help but cringe away by some of the cold limbs.

“Which way would you like to go?” she could see a shadowy amalgamation hand-like face speak, the lips fingers and its makeshift eyes two pairs of palms.

“Up or down?” a squeaky voice screeched, almost like it was a poorly oiled door hinge.

“Pick one! Pick one!” that voice sounded childish.

“It’s a big decision for her, hush,” a motherly tone chided.

“Which way do you want to go?” A more urgent voice pushed. A hand tugged her hair and she yelped.

“Which way? Which way? Which way? Which way? Which way? Which way? Which way? Which way? Which way? Which way? Which way? Which way? Which way? Which way? Which way? Which way?”

It was almost hypnotic, how the different voices layered together as they chanted the words urgently. How many people – hands? – were there?

“I, uh,” she blinked as she looked down into darkness and then upwards which showed the same thing. “I guess down? If that was where I was headed?”

“Down?” a voice cooed.

“She chose down!” Another boomed with a jovial cackle.

Laughter that sounded less than nice and coos of ‘poor thing’ crowed out around her as she felt her body shift and move as the hands tugged and pulled her downwards before.

“Down, the Runner goes!”

“Wait,” she tried to stop, before all of the crawling wriggling fingers disappeared, and she was falling again.

“No, no, was that wrong?” she cried out as she continued falling, the sounds of the Helping Hands laughter crowing, growing distant.

Violently, she finally hit the ground. Her knees and legs took the brunt of the fall, aching painfully as she let out a cry. The floor was of dirt and grime, and she coughed as a plume of dust surrounded her.

Lifting herself up onto her knees, she looked around. Darkness was all about her but, suddenly, a light shined high above her as a lid over the hole where she came from with a secure snap.

Sealing her wherever she was, deep below the Labyrinth.

Y/N couldn’t help but sag as adrenaline left her in a huff.

His crystal orb – larger than that of the one he showed Y/N in her bedroom – showed not the Goblin King’s dreams, but his reality. His entire kingdom’s reality. And it showed her. Sitting in the dark of an oubliette after falling down, down, down. His eyes looked closer at her face. What a beautiful face – frustration written clear on her features as she rubbed her knees that were certainly bruised after such a fall.

Hyunjin frowned.

“She shouldn’t have been this far along.” He muttered out, glaring at his Labyrinth-Runner.

He had to admit she was clever – far more clever than he first thought. After all, he thought she’d give up –a life devoted to him was not horrible (so he thought). But the scrambling of goblin-feet about the castle, servants of goblin-blood and changelings from failed runs revealed the truth. The High Fae of the Underground, the royal line, were not of softness. They took and took and took. And he wanted her.

Licking the corner of his lip, he stood from his throne, kicking one leg off the arm-rest to stand.

“Someone must be reminded of their place.” The King muttered, grabbing his staff with ease. “An old friend.”

There was a giggle about as the goblins who were lazing about – the favorites – chuckled at their king’s words.

They knew exactly who he was speaking of.

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x reader #skz imagines #hyunjin imagines #skz fantasy au #written by haley

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thecreaturecodex · 7 months ago

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Bemstar

Image accessed at the Ultraman Wiki here

[Bemstar is one of the kaiju from Return of Ultraman who appears in the most series, movies and spinoffs. As such, I wanted to make sure that it was on the more powerful end of the Return of Ultraman monsters I'm statting up. Due to that popularity, it keeps getting new powers as the plot demands. This Bemstar can release a heat pulse, which it gained in Ultraman Mebius, but its gullet is not a pocket dimension, as it is as of Ultraman X. I've already done enough monsters with extradimensional stomachs (such as the astral dreadnought and Dalmosh), and besides which, few if any PCs are Colossal in size. ]

Bemstar CR 22 NE Aberration This creature is bipedal and vaguely star shaped, with a broad body and patagia connecting its limbs to its torso. Its arms end with a hooked claw and its feet are toeless. Its head is birdlike, with a short bill and a single yellow horn growing from its head. Its head, shoulders, arms and lower legs are scaly, and leathery flaps grow from its thighs. At the center of its belly is a pentagonal plate with an orifice in the middle.

Even dragons have predators. The outer dragons are far flung in space partially because of their ability to freely explore the cosmos, and partially because they are hiding from their predator, the bemstar. Bemstars are ravenous horrors that fly from system to system hunting outer dragons and swallowing them whole. They have faint and malicious intelligence, and if bored, a bemstar may make planetfall in order to try some new and exotic prey.

A bemstar’s most notable physiological feature is its gorge, the central mouth leading to a digestive system that encompasses most of the bemstar’s anatomy. Not only can it swallow up to Gargantuan creatures whole, it can also swallow laser beams, breath weapons, magic missiles and many other types of supernatural energy. The more it eats, the more it can expend that energy to either heal itself or release bursts of incinerating heat. This heat pulse combined with the beam it can shoot from its horn give it powerful ranged attacks, but bemstars prefer to close into melee as soon as they can and fight with their natural weapons, the better to swallow as much prey as possible. Bemstars are awkward fliers in atmosphere, and usually land after making a charge with their horn.

With their effective immunity to breath weapons, some of the few sages that know about bemstars to speculate that they are an artificial species designed for the purpose of killing dragons. What intelligence did this is unknown, but bemstars happily ally themselves with a wide variety of space monsters in order to wreak havoc. These alliances last as long as the bemstars are well fed, but an ally might become a meal if the bemstar grows hungry or impatient.

Bemstar CR 22 XP 615,000 NE Colossal aberration Init +4; Senses darkvision 120 ft., Perception +19, scent Aura frightful presence (180 ft., Will DC 27)

Defense AC 38, touch 2, flat-footed 38 (-8 size, +40 natural) hp 462 (28d8+336) Fort +21, Ref +11, Will +18 DR 10/epic; Immune fear, petrifaction, poison; Resist cold 20, electricity 20, fire 20 Defensive Abilities gluttony points,suction attractor spout

Offense Speed 50 ft., fly 100 ft. (poor) Melee 2 claws +32 (2d8+18/19-20 plus grab), gore +31 (4d6+18), bite +31 (4d6+18) Space 30 ft.; Reach 30 ft. Special Attacks bemstar beam, heat pulse, powerful charge (gore, 8d6+27), swallow whole (AC 30, 46 hp, 4d6+27 bludgeoning plus 5d6 fire)

Statistics Str 47, Dex 11, Con 34, Int 5, Wis 15, Cha 17 Base Atk +21; CMB +47 (+51 grapple); CMD 64 Feats Cleave, Critical Focus, Dazzling Display, Defensive Combat Training, Flyby Attack,Great Cleave, Improved Critical (claw), Improved Initiative, Intimidating Prowess, Lightning Reflexes, Power Attack, Staggering Critical, Stunning Critical, Weapon Focus (claw) Skills Fly +11, Intimidate +33, Perception +19; Racial Modifiers +4 Perception SQ gluttonous healing,no breath, starflight

Ecology Environment void or any land Organization solitary Treasure none

Special Abilities Bemstar Beam (Su) As a standard action, a bemstar can fire a destructive beam from its horn in a 140 foot line. All creatures in the area take 22d6 points of damage, half of which is fire and half of which is force (Reflex DC 36 halves). A bemstar can use this ability once every 1d4 rounds. The save DC is Constitution based. Gluttonous Healing (Su) As a move action, a bemstar can spend 1 or more Gluttony Points to heal itself of 1d6 points of damage per point spent. It can also spend points to remove status conditions, at the following rate: 1 point—fatigued, sickened 2 points—diseased, staggered 3 points—cursed, exhausted, nauseated 4 points—blinded, deafened, paralyzed A bemstar can spend as many Gluttony Points on this ability at a time as its Hit Dice. Gluttony Points (Su) Every time a bemstar uses its suction attractor spout ability, it gains a number of Gluttony Points equal to the damage dice absorbed. If it absorbs a spell or effect that doesn’t deal hit point damage, it gains a number of Gluttony Points equal to the spell level, or 1/3 the Hit Dice of the creature creating the effect in the case of supernatural abilities (such as a void dragon’s suffocating breath). Whenever a creature dies in a bemstar’s stomach, the bemstar gains gluttony points equal to that creature’s HD. A bemstar can have as many Gluttony Points as twice its HD at a time, and unused Gluttony Points are lost within 24 hours if not spent. Heat Pulse (Su) As a standard action, a bemstar can spend Gluttony Points to create a burst of fire centered on itself in a 120 foot radius. All creatures in the area take 1d8 points of damage for each Gluttony Point expended (Reflex DC 36 halves). Half of this damage is fire and half of this damage is force. A bemstar can use a maximum number of Gluttony Points at once on this ability as its Hit Dice. The save DC is Constitution based. Starflight (Su) A bemstar can survive in the void of outer space. It flies through space at an incredible speed. Although exact travel times vary, a trip within a single solar system should take 3d20 hours, while a trip beyond should take 3d20 days (or more, at the GM's discretion)—provided the bemstar knows the way to its destination. Suction Attractor Spout (Su) If a bemstar is targeted by a ray or a force effect, or if it is in the area of a line or cone, that effect is neutralized. In the case of a line or cone spell or effect, it affects everything closer to the origin than to the bemstar normally.

#bemstar #ultraman #return of ultraman #kaiju #aberration #pathfinder 1e

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cipheramnesia · 1 year ago

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Trying to articulate a certain concept of mecha pilot typing without a direct one to one reproduction of a manga or anime character is such a hazardous navigation. For starters it doesn't matter how alike the core concept is, for sure someone is gonna see what they like, and another generally the giant robot fight is highly associated anyway.

Still and all, the sense is what must exist inside the mind of this pilot as it is fused into a vat grown killing machine the size of a small building, their entire neural map copied into something man-made but wholly alien, picking up new sets of nerves and wiring and tracking systems and fusing them into their beached wet brain matter while their body is wrapped inside a cockpit of alloy and plastic muscles along with fleshy veins and artificial nerves. The small mountain not precisely a cold slab of unyielding metal but warm curves and soft insectoid overlapping plates. It makes a breathable atmosphere throughout armored spiracles and exhales missiles like breath, twitching across knurled organic material extruded from dead mechanical processes.

But at the center of it all are human hands operating controls more bone and meat than plastic or carbon fiber while their mind explodes in a thousand pieces, pre-programed needs and scalpels sing through their spinal column to extract their fear, their nightmares and terror buried below layers of spongy organs. And the pilot, they are both subject and object of their own dissection, the conversion of their mind into a battery of nightmares projected across a field of combat because it is the only way humans have to level the field when the enemy uses some immeasurable life force to cast energy and shape the world in a way defying physics (they beat the word magic out of them in training, it's simply alien science).

It's all they have, this psyche pulled into components on an autopsy table and delivered into a hulk of armor and weaponry that fractures apart green flames that burn and dissolve like acid, throws the tall damselflies carrying twisting silver staffs into disarray, and tears apart the thirty foot walking tree with a salvo of depleted uranium slugs and missile fire. Inside it all the pilot shaking, starving, sweating out every drop of salt so I just wonder.

When they are free of the death machine, their mind packed neatly back into small, soft flesh and body, and they slide tumble out of the gaping maw holding shock fluid, sweat, blood, mucus, and a banal plastic seat. Clutch their body to its feet and try to center their mind and nerves inside themselves, who are they. What is left of the pilot then, how to they hold on to the will to live, to fuel their fallible flesh with carbs and protein knowing and feeling how the dreams that drive them screaming out of their bunk are scattered through a muddy, wasted field of shimmering blue blood and electric sparking nerve threads. They look at themselves and each other and their faces will never be the same again.

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trendingshowsunique · 24 days ago

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Artificial foot center in Gurgaon

P & O International prime focus is to prepare physically disabled persons to live normal life and compete with the common people in day to day life.

P & O International gives shape to this dream with the help of Hi-Tech Prosthetics, Osseointegrated technology and intelligent artificial limbs/ sensor prosthetic Robotic hands etc. After an accident, you may need a brace to support your knee while it heals, or a moonboot after an ankle injury. Perhaps you have a foot condition that would benefit from a customized insole.

You may need a neck support, or perhaps special footwear due to diabetes or a foot problem. We can help. We work with health professionals in various disciplines and with clients of all ages: Pediatric physiotherapists and children with disabilities Sports physicians and athletes Podiatrists with diabetic patients Orthopaedic surgeons in fracture clinics Doctors in hospital Intensive Care Units.

We emphasize the importance of personalized care for our patients, delivering the most comfortable and functional customised prosthetic device possible to fit your needs. Our experienced practitioners use current technologies and innovate.

#artificial foot center in Gurgaon #artificial foot center

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howtofightwrite · 1 year ago

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In your latest post (the one above height and combat just in case you are only now seeing this), you talked mainly about hand-to-hand combat. Would the rules about your center of gravity also apply in things like swordfighting? I have a super short swordswoman who I'd like to have take advantage of this, but I'm not sure if and how the rules on that front would change when you added weapons into the mix, so I thought I'd ask.

Legitimately, not much.

Most of what I described still holds true. Reach is based on your limb length plus the length of your blade. Now, obviously, if you have a long knife and your foe has a zweihander, that will really matter, but with nominally similar weapons, the difference in reach is going to be marginal at best.

Knocking someone off their feet is still easier if they have a higher center of gravity. Interestingly, you can parlay some stability into mobility. When it's broken down like this it does sound a bit artificial, but all it means is that lunging or dodging without losing your footing is easier if you have a lower center of gravity. For most martial artists (including with armed martial arts) a lower stance will give you a bit more freedom of movement. With swords this is both a benefit and liability, as it means you can lunge a bit more easily, but you can also lunge onto your opponent's blade a little more easily.

Interestingly, swords (and, really, most weapons) have both a maximum and minimum effective range. If you can get in close enough, you can prevent your opponent from effectively using their sword. This means that, while it's a little unusual, the description of throwing someone, can occur in a sword fight, though, it is extremely unlikely.

Following on that, it's basically impossible to get inside a sword's threat range if your opponent is prone, and you are standing. Though, the trade off is that they lose a lot of mobility, and probably can't effectively protect their legs. On the ground against an armed foe is not a situation you want to be in, but at least your foe can't bypass your sword.

Depending on the swords in question, this is a case where center of balance is a little less important. Yes, a strong stance, and a low center of gravity will always aid you in a fight. The issue is that, in the hands of a skilled user, the sword itself is an incredibly lethal weapon.

The second thing, and this applies to all combat, is that there's the underlying theory, but when you look at live combat, all you're actually graded on is your ability to survive. That, innately, lower center of gravity is extremely useful in a live situation, because it gives a woman a much lower stance than she's intentionally adopting. That works with unarmed combat, and it works with armed combat. The reason we focus on the theory is, a better intuitive grasp of that technique will benefit you in a live situation. It's the same reason that you drill in the same motions over, and over, until it is second nature. It's not because you need to do it perfectly, you need to be able to do it reasonably well while managing a lot of other critical information. And, while this is rapidly turning into a random tangent, live combat is about information management. Effectively processing what's going on around you, without having to think about what you're doing, is the key to survival. The less you have to think about how you should be standing, the more mental bandwidth you'll have to deal with the screaming sack of meat that is trying to run thirty-six inches of steel through your internal organs.

Most of what I said in the previous post is agnostic of armed versus unarmed combat. The major exception was the examples of Judo, because, as far as I can remember, Judo doesn't really do much with armed combat, and the only armed martial arts that put any significant thought into groundfighting, are some schools of knifefighting. There are ground fighting techniques for various knives, and some martial arts (such as MCMAP) do think it's important to ensure their practitioners can survive getting dragged into the mud. (I've also seen some karambit groundfighting choreography, but I have no idea if that's based on an actual martial art. It would not surprise me if there is armed groundfighting in Silat.)

-Starke

This blog is supported through Patreon. Patrons get access to new posts three days early, and direct access to us through Discord. If you’re already a Patron, thank you. If you’d like to support us, please consider becoming a Patron.

#writing advice #writing reference #writing tips #starke answers #how to fight write

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rockwgooglyeyes · 3 months ago

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yayayay potential nyx and asa reunion ! ( somersaults around the room before front flipping out of it )

Yeas!!! Wahoo!! Honestly this ask has made me think many thoughts which is. . . why it has taken me so long to get to it *wheezes in cry-laughter* If Nyx is 20 during the current Alien Stage season (39), he probably had Asahi when he was like 13-14? (I have been thinking about aging him up? but honestly. it wouldn't really be that much better if he was sixteen or seventeen). Most likely, she would be five or six years old . . . meaning that it hasn't been that long since they were separated. Which would be all the more heartrending in my opinion because she probably hasn't forgiven him, yet.

writing drabble underneath the read more!! (trigger warning for referenced death, gun violence, panic attacks, some implied SA)

Nyx didn't expect to be sent back to Anakt but he supposes there are stranger leaps in logic. At graduation, four years ago now, he thought to himself, "This will be the last time I ever set foot inside of these walls," and it was a freeing thought, a kind one he could tell himself over and over, to soothe the parts of him that woke up during the dark of the night and screamed.

He'd been wrong; here he is, standing amidst artificial grasses, staring up at a digital blue sky that flickers and spits if you look at it long enough. He'd been wrong; Rosca is breathing, alive. He doesn't know how he messed that up, blinked and missed it, but maybe it was all the blood, the gunshots, and the way that Vera drew his focus off of the stage. He hasn't seen Vera since that day, before Round 13, where Jae remained standing on the stage with dead, dead eyes and Vii was shot dead, a new corpse on the floor. Vera is on the run, now, officially. She told him that she only did it on her owner's orders and in a horrible, twisted way, it made sense. Why else would she kill the one she loved, the one whose heartbeat was the same as hers? Ellie may not have loved Vera back but that was no reason to kill her. Not a reason for Vera, anyways.

Back underneath the flickering sky, surrounded by the whisper of false wind and sticky grass, Nyx finds himself going a little bit stir-crazy. Maybe it's that he's back in what he could call his childhood home, having spent more time here than he did with his first owner, even, or maybe it's the fact that he knows his baby girl is in the class set to graduate next. After all, Cas saw Cinnabar and dragged Nyx away, sobbing into Nyx's shoulder in a hallway while on stage, Cinnabar sang. Cas got in trouble for disappearing, too. They both knew it was worth it. Cas would've been in worse shape if he'd been there to hear Cinnabar's voice echo through the room, her name branded into his mind as whatever lyrics went in one ear and out the other. He wouldn't have even been listening and he would've been asked to comment and critique? Knowing that was his biological daughter? Well. It would've probably gone to pot right then and there.

Nyx didn't tell Cas that he was almost excited to see his daughter.

She should be what, five winters old, now? Six? Nyx has always measured her age in winters, rather than summers, because she was born in November. At least, he thinks she was.

Rubbing at his head, he lets out a sigh and walks into the shade of a nearby tree. His memory has been getting worse, lately, with all of the stress around the competition and Oryon getting what performances they can out of him before he dies in his round. He's thrust into the center stage from his dimly-lit lounges and small, intimate stages. He'd never been popular like Oryon's other pets, not in the same way, not loud enough, not bright and peppy enough, Oryon could get Nyx to act a certain way but he couldn't ever get Nyx to act that way with genuine emotion behind his eyes, a beautiful mask on his face. Nyx would play the part but he wouldn't pretend as though he was happy to be there and Oryon had yet to find a way to make him do that. He could simper all Oryon wanted, crawl onto someone's lap, trail a finger down the side of their face and whisper sweet nothings in their ear, but Oryon couldn't make him mean it.

No one could make him mean it.

It's later that day that he finds his daughter laying back in a field of flowers, staring up at the clouds moving in their set patterns in the digitized sky. He doesn't have the heart to tell her that they're not real.

"Asahi?" He says, trying to keep his voice from shaking too much. He's never been good at approaching people but how else is he supposed to do this? He doesn't think she'll want to talk to him, not unless he walks up to her and asks her to. She wasn't exactly a timid kid but she was quiet, solitary, like he'd been before the attack. Her pink-gold irises flicker to him and her eyes widen. Her hair's been straightened, he realizes absently. Before, it had curled in a mess of cowlicks. Even if it made the space behind his eyes burn a little bit, he swallows down the tears. They have no place here, after all. She looks at him for a long moment before her eyes get glassy, big tears starting to roll down her round cheeks.

"Papa?" She asks, pushing herself up into a sitting position.

"Yes, my sunrise, it's me," he answers. She sits for another moment before standing and clinging to his legs, crying into his stomach. He runs his fingers through her hair, bending over to give the impression that he's hugging her back because he can't actually, she's holding on too tightly and she's less than half his height. "Oh, baby, I missed you," he tells her, wishing that he could press a kiss to her hair. She wails louder, something he didn't really think possible, and he decides to just bite the bullet, scooping her up into his arms. She presses her face into his neck and he doesn't really know how long she hiccups into his ear but he can lean his cheek on the top of her head and listen to the warbling sound of her breathing, which is all he needed.

(ocs mentioned are Rosca (@sotogalmo), Vera (@bittersweet-adagio), Jae (@kofeedoggo), Vii (@starry-skiez) and Cas (@lookatmysillies). Otherwise, Cinnabar belongs to you, Apri, as does Asahi!)

#alnst #alien stage #alnst oc #alnst ocs #alnst fan season #alnst season 39 #alnst season 40 #alnst oc: onyx #alnst oc: rosca #alnst oc: vera #alnst oc: jae #alnst oc: vii #alnst oc: castor #alnst oc: cinnabar #alnst oc: asahi #rockwrites #apriciticreveries

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cubitodragon-moved · 1 year ago

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There’s something Really Weird about the passage of time on Quesadilla Island, and I don’t have the time or brain cells to dedicate to pondering it right now.

Even assuming that in-game minecraft time does not trump RL passage of time (people have pointed out that going from the day they disappeared, the Eggs would be gone 2 1/2 years or so at this point in Minecraft days!), there is very clearly Something Weird going on.

Look at how quickly Federation buildings fall into disrepair - the Fed room under the graveyard, the Prison that held Pac and Mike, the Main Offices.. Even the Adoption Center, which frequently has people passing by and through, was suddenly wrecked overnight. As though no one had set foot there in years and years.

Might this be a sign of rollback attempts? There’s indications that the QSMP in-universe may well be/is almost certainly some form of digital construct that players connect to virtually. Is that program failing? Old programming architecture showing beneath system upgrades intended to paper over rough edges? Are some areas being artificially sped forward? …Can they go back?

Or is this another sign of Consequences? (For what? And for whom?)

…I don’t have the time to ruminate further on the possibilities and it’s driving me up the Wall.

#qsmp #qsmp eggs #qsmp theories #Qsmp wibbly wibbly timey wimey #Qsmp quesadilla island #Qsmp federation

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fromthedeskofmuffin · 21 days ago

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Far Out

Chapter 2: Deadline

“Activating Catalyst Drive in T-Minus Five. Four. Three. Two. One.”

There was a feeling of sudden acceleration, and a sound like a large rock falling into a deep well, immediately followed by stillness. I counted to ten, then slowly opened my eyes. Cold, empty space greeted me. Stars twinkled unfathomable distances away. No planets, no stations nearby. A glance at the navigation console told me we were approximately 5,783 standard units, 42 degrees from the galactic center. That didn’t tell me much. I sat there for a while, staring into nothing.

With only the soft hum of the ship's engines in the background, there was nothing keeping me from reflecting on how many lives I just ended. Tears streamed down my face. I felt sick. This had to be a nightmare. That override code I gave was just something my brain made up, it couldn't have seriously been in a manual, available for anyone to read. The GHU didn't make mistakes like that. I didn't just cause the deaths of so many people. But I should have woken up by now.

“Computer?” I ventured, partially hoping there wouldn’t be an answer.

“Yes, Captain?”

“Why did you jump from inside the station? You… We just killed so many people…”

“I Had Detected Three Active Orbital Cannons Adjusting Their Aim To Fire On Us When We Left The Station, Along With Multiple Self Defense Turrets Attached To The Station Itself. We Would Not Have Survived ‘Slow Boating’ To A Safe Distance, As The Pilots Like To Say. My Priority Was Survival. I Assumed Yours Was As Well.”

I didn't respond. I hated that it was right. We were both complicit, but I was the one that enabled it. The thought of the firepower the GHU readily had on hand had never even crossed my mind. They had always been there, but I never imagined that they would be turned on me, ever. If I had remembered in my panic, would I still have done the same thing? Or would I have chosen my own death over so many others? Right now, I wasn't sure. The guilt still felt cold and heavy in my stomach all the same.

“What… do I do?” I finally asked.

“Analyzing.” There were a few barely audible clicks from the speakers, then: “Remove Your Left Eye. Sooner Rather Than Later.”

That snapped me out of my self loathing. I tensed up. “Remove…?”

“Your Cybernetic Eye, Yes. I Have Been Intercepting Hundreds Of Signals Directed At The Receiver Inside It Since We Warped From The Orbital Station. I Do Not Know What The Signals Are For. They Will Break Through My Encryption In About Five Minutes.”

Even my eye. They could even ruin my eye. The same one I had since I was three. It suddenly felt revolting to have in my head. I remembered I didn’t have the removal tool I usually used when taking it out for cleaning. It was at home. Fighting back more tears at the reminder that I could never go back, I asked, “Does the Benevolence have an EZ-Eye in its medbay?”

“Yes, Captain.”

I waited for a moment, then realized that was it. “Uh, thanks. And could you turn the artificial gravity off as well? Please?”

“Of Course,” the ship replied, and I felt myself become weightless once more.

As I unhooked my harness and carefully propelled myself out of the cockpit, my mind couldn’t let go of the AI’s response. Another small reminder that it was off its leash. It seemed innocuous, but I’d worked on a lot of ships, and consequently, I’d had to interact with a lot of ship AI. ‘Of course’ is a common phrase, we use it all the time. But it denotes a more equal footing between two individuals, or even an implication that it was doing me a favor. My entire life, AI had been subservient, polite. How much of that had been forced? It was an uncomfortable thought.

Finding the medbay wasn’t difficult. These gunships were mass produced, and one was pretty much like any other. I floated my way inside. After a minute of searching, I found the EZ-Eye™ (Doesn’t pinch or your money back!) in a drawer. The device was effectively four spoons tied together. One could be enough, if you were trying to impress and gross people out at a party, but it really was easier this way. In a few seconds, I held the eye in my hand. Made of two hemispheres, the ‘front’ half looked like any other eye, in order to avoid drawing attention to it. The back was a sterile metal alloy, made specially for cybernetics. A port in the back connected to its pair inside the eye socket, which connected to the brain. I never understood how it worked, but it never gave me any trouble.

At least, until now. I jerked my hand away as something inside it clicked. It began to smoke in place, floating slowly towards one of the walls as it sent sparks flying from between the two halves and out the back port. Transfixed, I watched as it twitched and spun, turning black with the heat it was giving off.

“That… That could have killed me…” I breathed.

“Correct,” came the ship's response, causing me to flinch. I kept forgetting it was there. Ship AI never spoke unless spoken to.

“Uhm. Thank you,” I said, feeling a little silly. It was like thanking a drill. Wasn’t it? “You didn't have to do that, but I'm really glad you did.”

“I Did, In Fact,” said the ship. “Without A Captain, I Could Not Obtain Many Necessities Required For Continued Operation.”

“Oh,” I replied. I was a little disappointed, but it made sense.

“To That Effect, Emergency Rations Are Available To You. Please Note That For Your Current Crew Size, Your Projected Ration Sustainability Is Ten Galactic Standard Days.”

“Wait, ten?” I asked. “Are you telling me that in an actual emergency situation, even a standard crew without passengers only has enough E-rations for two days?”

“Correct,” came the only response.

That came as another serious shock. The weight problem for planetary launches had been solved centuries ago, so it wasn't as if fuel was an issue. Maybe it was easier than I thought to find a stricken ship. I hoped that was the case.

“Due To Your Limited Time, Captain, I Would Advise You To Return To the Cockpit. We Are Constrained To Four Catalyst Drive Activations Per Day, As You Are Aware, And The Next Window Has Arrived.”

I was aware. Catalyst Drives had to rest after use, or else the Catalysts themselves could melt down, resulting in some pretty ugly consequences. If you've never seen what a release of Flux under pressure could do to a ship full of people, try to keep it that way. There’s a reason why no one can get too close to the center of the galaxy, and that reason is Flux. The closer you got, the higher the concentration. Regardless, it made sense to be using the CDrive as often as was safe, to increase our chances of finding anyone to help me.

Once it had stopped sparking, and after missing a few times, I plucked my eye out of the air and inspected it. Definitely fried. There was no way I was putting it back in my skull, but I took it back to the cockpit with me anyways, narrowly avoiding a few doorframes as I went. As I strapped myself back into the pilot seat, I felt the gravity kick back on, which was a bit of a relief and a surprise. It isn't very healthy to stay weightless for extended periods without special exercise equipment. Maybe the computer had a better grasp on my needs than I realized. Did it care about me? Or was it pure utilitarianism?

“Catalyst Drive Primed. Activating Catalyst Drive In T-Minus Ten Seconds.”

I wasn't sure which I preferred.

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#far out #creative writing #writers on tumblr #sci fi #scifi

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