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onelittlespiral · 1 year ago

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FML: Sealed

The plan was simple, if time consuming. Rent some apartments out, and wait. Of course, there were some preparation required. First, buy an old apartment building, something not too expensive and not too flashy. Make some small changes to the central air system and temperature control. Bring the whole thing up to code and install a beautiful, in building gym. Hire a team of savvy young women to help manage the apartments. Then, carefully and selectively rent out the one bed, one bath apartments to single, young men who showed promise. Some were just graduated 20-somethings, with a bright future ahead in STEM careers. Some were trust fund kids moving to the city for the first time, drawn to the quickly gentrifying downtown. Some were just personal pet projects that I wanted to see grow into their potential. Like this fellow:

I wanted to see what would happen on a bit more of a bear-ish body type. We set him up in Unit 514. Or this bro:

He was already pretty close to what we wanted our final results to look like. But I wanted to see how much we could push him. Unit 112, low and close to the gym. Good eye candy for some of the twinks we set up on the sixth floor. After about 3 months, every unit in the building had been filled, all eight floors. It was the first of June, around 4 a.m. when we had verified all residents were home. The overnight receptionist was sent home early for the day as upstairs, all door locks were remotely engaged, power was cut, and the new air conditioners kicked in. All subjects were sealed in their experiment chambers.

Slowly but surely, a thick fog billowed from each bedroom’s vents. It was a thick, sticky vapor, smelling like sandalwood and cool like peppermint. Subjects’ rooms were soon filled as they began breathing it in deeply. Some began to toss in their sleep, subconsciously fighting the mist, while others just huffed away and began the absorption process. One fellow on the second floor managed to toss himself awake, but was quickly sedated by an extra pump of vaporized melatonin added to his room.

As the men all settled down and opened up, the mist began absorbing into their bodies through any gap available: mouth, nose, pores, cocks, and asses. Within thirty minutes, the last of the gas has been administered, and all subjects were once more peacefully at rest. Bodies began twitching and pulsing as faint moans emitted from some of the smaller men’s mouths. The experiment had began.

The first to wake up in the morning was a subject in apartment 211. His transformation was among the more subtle. The lanky guy had put on a few pounds of muscle as his beard thickened and some hair grew in. He immediately began to sense something was off, as he felt his body and now bushy beard. He tried to check his phone. Dead. He gets up and tries to walk out into the apartment. Locked. A look of confusion sets in as he sits and tries to think of what to try next. That is when it catches him. With the power out and the sun rising, temperatures were rising. And as he began to sweat, he began to smell:

The gasses that seeped in last night were slowly beginning to seep back out, causing more radical changes. But this second exposure is different. It is coming from inside him, and carries his unique pheromones with it. This gas is heroin to him, designed to addict his body to its presence and slowly bring out the best in him. And as the smell fills his nostrils for a second time, he is fighting the urge to give in. Give into himself and what he is becoming. He knows that the smell is rancid, musky and earthy with notes of spice that burn his nostrils. But it is a lost cause. As he huffs away at his own funk, he glides his free hand down his chest, feeling thick, matted hair and slick abs. He takes a moment to feel his muscles twitching and stretching as his skin becomes sensitive to the touch. He wraps his sweaty, calloused hand around his cock, and begins to pump.

Once he begins to pleasure himself, there is very minimal risk of a reversal. The changes are rapid and extensive his body grows to match the smell that now saturates the air around him. Muscles swell, bones crack and reshape, feet stretch, and his eyes roll in the back of his head as he starts to drool. The fog settling into his brain leaves no room for inhibitions as he starts to self worships his pit, devouring his own sweat. Our scanners also begin to detect deterioration in brain activity. The pleasure center is growing, eating into non-essential regions like memory and comprehension. No part of the original subject is left unchanged as he continues to evolve into a sweaty, smelly, hairy beast of a man. And as he reaches climax, he lets out a deep roar as all inhibitions about his new form are shot out the swollen mushroom tip of his cock. He rolls his foreskin back up and shoves his filthy cock into a pair of sweatpants.

He stares at his body, flexing and feeling up his muscles. Experiment 211 has been a success, able to turn a scrawny nerd into a horny, sweaty, smelly gym bro with an insatiable need to fuck. Now we just need to test how powerful his sperm and scent are. He hears a click as his chamber is unlocked. We pulse the lights in the room with a code his mind will understand. He now knows his mission is to go over to Apartment 212 and begin round two of testing…

It is a bit later in the morning now and subjects all around are beginning to wake up and face their new reality. Through our camera network we watch as their transformations are slowly taking place, as muscle, fat, and fur are packed on and a cloud of musk begins to cloud the room.

And slowly as men finish their first rounds, their chambers are unsealed. They begin to wander and find their neighbors, mixing musks to help each other grow and change even more.

The experiment will run sealed off from the general public, at least until new subjects are needed to collect additional data points. Interested parties are encouraged to apply now to our waitlist. Otherwise, we expect to host an open house next month, with all subjects free to leave the complex and continue experimenting as they see fit. I can already tell that our friend we started with in Unit 514 will be popular.

Thank you for your time today. We expect to see you again very soon.

#male transformation #musk #straight to gay #jockification #reality change #jock #fml #mass tf #transformation

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littlejoyss · 4 days ago

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destiny part 1

“All along, there was some invisible string tying you to me.”

Stray Kids - Chan x Reader

Red (golden) string of fate trope

Word count (so far): 7k

current part -> next part

summary: To save her struggling image after a scandal, (Y/N)’s company fakes a contract relationship between her and her brand-new producer, Bang Chan. Neither of them is thrilled. Then the golden string of fate appears. They’re not supposed to fall in love, it’s literally in the contract. But the more they pretend, the harder it gets to draw the line. The string seems to tighten when they’re honest… and starts to fray every time they lie to each other. If they want to keep their careers, they can’t love each other. But if they ignore the thread, they risk losing the one love they were destined for.

[NOTE: This is the second installment in my Soulmates Series. HOWEVER, this story can be completely read as a stand-alone (and is written to be). Don't worry, if this is your first time here, you won't miss any important lore :) ]

Once everyone turned eighteen, a golden thread appeared tied around their pinky. Most people discovered it at dawn, just as the first light spilled over the horizon, when the string is most visible to the owner.

The string shimmered like a captured sunrise. It never tangled and it never dulled. Where the old tales spoke of a red cord, rough and knotted with destiny, this was liquid gold. From the moment it appeared, society revolved around it.

Golden‑mornings. Families gathered for a ceremonial breakfast, slicing warm honey‑cake to celebrate the new thread‑bearer. There was always an extra place set at the table for the unseen soulmate at the string’s far end.

Length‑measuring. Thrumming with nerves, the newly bound stretched their hands skyward, guiding the filament between thumb and forefinger to gauge its reach. Long meant distant, sometimes oceans away, and short could indicate a lover already in the same room.

The First Pull. Sometime within that first year, the thread would tighten and tug. Legends claimed that if you followed the pull immediately, no power on earth could keep you from meeting your counterpart before nightfall. Most people waited for many reasons, but the bold few who obeyed the first pull were said to find love.

Since your Golden Morning and length measuring with your family, you knew the string was pulled somewhere close. Too close. The thread hadn't stretched across oceans like your cousin’s, or vanished into the horizon like the classmate who cried because her soulmate lived in a different hemisphere. Yours was short. Immediate. Barely extended past the room. And that somehow was worse. Because how could they be so close and still so unreachable?

The years passed, and yet the thread never slackened enough to suggest they were gone, nor tightened enough to guide you toward them. It was simply there.

You had your First Pull when you were eighteen, just past dawn, sitting on a rooftop with a stale cup of convenience store coffee and the remnants of your third rejection email that week from an entertainment company.

The air was cold that morning, the sky just starting to burn soft gold behind the buildings. You were wrapped in an old hoodie and sitting cross-legged on the concrete, trying not to cry. Or maybe trying to cry, just to get it out of your system. Three auditions. Three versions of “We’ll keep you in mind.” Three polite dismissals with none of the glitter you’d imagined when you first dreamed of the stage.

And then, it tugged. Not hard, just a shift in pressure. Enough to still your breath. Enough to pull your gaze down to your hand. And there it was.

Glimmering faintly against your skin. Gold, soft as breath, but undeniably there. It shimmered against the morning light, stretched out just a few feet before vanishing into the air like mist. For the first time in your life, it wasn’t drifting loosely. It was pulling.

Your soulmate was close.

You scrambled to your feet, nearly spilling the coffee you didn’t even want. You checked every corner of that rooftop, behind the utility door, near the rusted ventilation units, beneath the stairwell leading up to the higher level. You leaned over the railing and scanned the alley below, pulse hammering, eyes searching desperately for someone, anyone, whose thread might align with yours.

You ran down the fire escape, breath catching in your throat, scanning every face on the street. The early morning crowd was thin, mostly delivery drivers and sleepy-eyed commuters. No one looked back at you. No one blinked with recognition. No one paused.

Whoever it was, if they were even awake, they were already gone. Or maybe they were right next to you, and just… not ready.

That was almost worse. The idea that they could be brushing past you in the crowd, headphones in, unaware of the string that shimmered between you. Or maybe they were aware and chose not to look.

You were convinced your soulmate was running from you.

And maybe they had every right to. You weren’t soft anymore. Not like you were when you first stood in the mirror with glitter on your cheeks and practiced smiling like someone who belonged in the spotlight. The world had turned you sharp. Sharp enough to bleed. Sharp enough to cut someone if they got too close.

But they couldn’t run forever, not if you were a famous idol. They would see your face everywhere, right? Billboards. Comebacks. Paparazzi photos and music shows. You told yourself the stage would become your beacon. That if you shone bright enough, they would find you.

Or that you would finally stop caring.

Neither had happened yet.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Your publicist, Iseul, had called you into her office this morning. You weren’t left wondering why. It was obvious why.

It had started with a single, unflattering photo.

You hadn’t even noticed the photographer that night. You were leaving a venue after a private industry event, one where you’d been invited as a surprise guest. The lighting was low. The night was cold. And you had just spent two hours performing in front of executives who barely looked up from their phones.

The photo showed you walking ahead of your backup team. Your eyes looked sharp, your jaw tight, your expression unreadable, but the headline gave it all the meaning it wanted.

“(Y/N) Storms Out of Private Gala, Refuses to Acknowledge Team”

The tabloids ran wild.

Screenshots from videos taken that night fueled speculation. Clips showed your stylist reaching toward you, and you flinching. They didn’t show the wire she nearly tripped over. The tabloids didn’t care about context. They never had.

They didn’t want the truth of a long day, of blistered feet and aching shoulders, or how the flinch was nothing more than instinct. They didn’t want the detail that you'd whispered an apology the moment you realized your stylist had stumbled, or that you’d offered your arm a second later.

What they wanted was the freeze-frame. A single moment that looked cold. Detached. Diva-like.

And it was enough. In less than twelve hours, the hashtags bloomed like mold across every corner of the internet. A gossip account posted a thread. A side-by-side of your earliest debut days, bright-eyed, smiling, waving at fans in handmade jackets, and the recent clip of you slipping into a car, expression unreadable. They captioned it: What happened to her?

The narrative shifted overnight. You weren’t the hardworking soloist who’d clawed her way to center stage. Now you were cold. Rude. Out of touch.

A low, rising tide threatens to drown everything you’d built. That was why you were in Iseul’s office now. She tapped her pen against her desk, jaw tight, eyes sharp behind her glasses. Her screen showed a live feed of your name trending, for the seventh day in a row. “Look, I knew no one was expecting this, so I can’t blame you for being silent on social media. But silence doesn’t sell,” Iseul said, not unkindly, but with the clipped precision of someone forced to fix a fire she hadn’t started.

You sat across from her, spine straight, even though you wanted to sink through the floor. There was no use protesting. No matter how carefully you’d crafted your performances, none of it mattered when public perception shifted.

“Which is why,” Iseul continued, “we need to control the story before it controls you.”

You bit your lip. “Just…tell me how to fix it.”

Iseul didn’t look relieved. She rarely did. But something in her shoulders softened at your surrender. “You fix it by being someone the public can believe in again. Someone warm. Human. Someone loved.”

She turned her laptop over to you, showing a long document of a timeline. “The plan is already in motion,” she said. “Your next project will be promoted as a collaboration with your new producer. We’ll run a behind-the-scenes campaign. Casual interactions. Maybe a joint livestream. One of those quiet, slow-burn arcs the fans like.”

You said nothing. But you didn’t look away either.

“You’ll have plausible deniability,” Iseul added. “We’re not saying you’re dating. Just that something’s starting. A beginning they can root for.”

“So…you’re solution is for me to fake date another idol?”

Iseul didn’t even flinch. “Not just any idol,” she said, tapping her pen once more against the desk, each click like a countdown. “Bang Chan.”

Your heart gave a jolt, not quite surprise, but something colder. Something heavier. You knew the name, of course. Everyone in the industry did. Leader. Producer. Golden boy. He was known for building songs from the ground up, staying late in studios long after everyone else had gone home, and protecting his group effortlessly.

He was respected. Scandal-free. The kind of person who could stabilize a ship even when it wasn’t his to steer. He was also the opposite of everything you’d been painted as.

“So,” you said slowly, “your plan is to stick the cold, collapsing soloist next to the warm, reliable producer, and hope some of his reputation rubs off on me?”

Iseul gave you a dry look. “You’re not collapsing.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“…Yet,” she admitted. “But we don’t have the luxury of waiting to find out how far this thing spreads. We need to get ahead of it. And Chan, he’s already agreed to the partnership.”

That made you pause. “He agreed?” You leaned forward slightly, searching her expression. “You mean he read all this and still said yes?”

“He knows what he’s signing up for. The contract's been finalized. Professional collaboration, plus public appearances. He’ll get visibility for his production work. You’ll get to look like you’re… grounded. Balanced. Emotionally available.” She paused. “And ideally, adored.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, exhaling through your nose. Fake relationships weren’t exactly new. Fans speculated all the time. Most artists just denied, denied, denied, and kept things ambiguous. But you would have to play into it. Lean in. Smile in just the right way.

You could already feel the weight of the act tightening across your chest. “And if people start asking about our threads?” you asked quietly. “If they ask if we’re soulmates?”

Iseul tilted her head. “You know how common it is for people not to date their soulmates. Soulmates are hard to find.”

A perfect, palatable answer. One that wouldn’t ruffle feathers or raise suspicion. But it didn’t make your chest ache any less. You looked down at your hand. The golden thread shimmered faintly, barely stretched, like it was listening.

“Alright,” you said. “Let’s sell the story.”

(SOULMATES SERIES MASTERLIST)

Permanent tag list: @moonlitcelestial @akindaflora @beppybeesnuggets @rylea08 @yxna-bliss @felixsonlyrealwife @wolfs-howling @velvetmoonlght

Soulmate Series tag list: @eridanuswave @dlizzzy @allenajade-ite

#stray kids #skz #kpop #fanfic #kpop fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #skz x reader #bang chan x y/n #bang chan x you #bang chan fanfic #bang chan x reader #bang chan #christopher bahng #skz x y/n #skz x you #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader

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orellazalonia · 1 month ago

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Surface Tension

Summary: You, a curious mermaid gifted with a pendant that lets you walk on land, are pulled into the chaotic lives of Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes. With saltwater misting systems, sarcastic banter, and growing affection, you slowly find a place and a home with the two super soldiers by your side. (Steve Rogers x mermaid!reader x Bucky Barnes)

Word Count: 1.7k+

A/N: Here’s the mermaid one and I’m ngl, I kind of like writing the sarcastic personality type. If given the chance, I’d want to write more of this to expand or work out some lore or something. Regardless, Happy reading!!!

Main Masterlist

You were never supposed to be seen by humans.

The elders had rules. Ancient, unshakable rules about staying hidden. Stay deep, stay quiet, and stay forgotten. But the world above had always intrigued you. The strange music. The glowing lights. The way humans danced, clumsy and joyful, as if gravity were optional.

So, naturally, you broke all the rules.

You’d been watching the surface for a while, drifting near piers and moonlit beaches, collecting the odd things that fell into the sea like keys, rings, sunglasses, and even a flip phone that once played Taylor Swift on a loop until you buried it under a rock. Curiosity was a current you couldn’t swim against.

Then one night, everything changed.

A battle erupted near the coastline. Blinding lights, explosions, shouting. You had just surfaced for a better look when something, a chunk of debris or a misfired weapon, shot through the air and crashed into the water not far from you. Moments later, a man sank into the sea.

He was heavy, metal-armed, unconscious, and bleeding; but you dragged him to shore anyway. You didn't know who he was. You didn’t know his name. You only knew that you weren’t going to let him drown.

That was how you met Bucky Barnes.

By the time Steve arrived, yelling his name and skidding through the sand like a soldier in a panic, you were already halfway back to the sea. He caught a glimpse of your tail, just enough to shout “Wait!” before you vanished beneath the surface again.

They came back the next night. And the next. Leaving little things on the rocks like blankets, snacks sealed in waterproof bags, a book about dolphins (you rolled your eyes), even a dry erase board with a marker so you could "communicate." You tried ignoring them. It worked for three days.

Then Bucky left a note that said, I owe you my life. The least I can do is let you steal my snacks. Or my dignity. Up to you.

You showed up that night. And stayed.

You explained, slowly, how you were able to come to shore: a gift from your people. Something rare and not easily given. A small, enchanted pendant carved from sea glass, worn around your neck. It shimmered with a dull, blue-green glow, and when you whispered the right word, your tail faded into legs. Temporary. Imperfect. But it worked.

The catch? You had to stay hydrated. Saltwater was best. Too long without it, and your body would begin to ache, crackle like dry coral. Bucky took that part very seriously and bought an absurd amount of humidifiers. Steve installed a misting system in their apartment. It was ridiculous. It was sweet. You didn’t say thank you, but you didn’t need to.

Eventually, you started spending more time in the human world; testing your legs, your balance, your ability to survive wearing denim. You read books, watched movies, argued with Bucky about cereal, and asked Steve uncomfortable questions about surface-world history. (He tried explaining taxes once and got so worked up he nearly walked into a wall.)

You weren’t sure if you belonged here. Not yet. Not completely. But with them, things felt… less foreign. Less lonely. Even with your salt-crusted hair, your sharp tongue, and your deeply held belief that humans have no idea how to swim correctly.

They welcomed you. Mess and all.

Your first real day in the city began with a pair of stolen boots and a warning from Bucky.

He tossed them at your feet while Steve was busy packing an “essentials” backpack that somehow included a full first aid kit, five bottles of water, a travel-sized salt shaker (“just in case”), and a towel. You picked up the boots and raised an eyebrow.

“They’re not stolen,” Bucky said. “They’re… donated. Tony has a weird closet.”

“They smell like steel.”

“You smell like seaweed and drama.”

“Thank you.”

You didn’t wear shoes underwater, obviously. And walking on legs, while technically possible thanks to the sea-glass pendant, still felt like balancing on stilts. The boots helped. Sort of. If by “helped” you meant “made you stomp like an angry pirate.”

Steve smiled nervously as you glared down at the boots. “You ready?”

“No.”

“Perfect. Let’s go.”

The city was loud. It was so loud you were sure someone up there had lost control of a thunder god. Horns honked. People shouted. Music blared from tiny, sad boxes. And the smells? Gods, the smells. Fried food and trash and some sort of… hot dog vapor?

You clung to Bucky’s arm like a shipwrecked sailor. He didn’t complain, but you felt his shoulder shaking from silent laughter.

“You okay?” Steve asked, trying to guide you around a hot dog cart you were glaring at suspiciously.

“No. What is that?”

“It’s food.”

“It smells like regret.”

“That’s… fair.”

Bucky leaned down. “Want one?”

You blinked at him. “Is this a trap?”

“No. But watching you eat it might be.”

You didn’t trust the hot dog.

Instead, you became fascinated with the manholes. All round, mysterious, and clearly some kind of portal. Steve had to stop you twice from prying one open. “I just want to see,” You protested. “What if it leads to a kraken den?”

“It leads to sewage,” Bucky muttered. “Trust me. I checked once.”

“You what?” Steve snapped.

“Not important.”

At some point, you reached Central Park. It was quieter there, greener, with water nearby that helped ease the dryness creeping into your skin. You even sat by the edge of a fountain and kicked your boots off, letting your legs soak for a moment as you ignored the confused glances from some of the other passing strangers.

Steve sat beside you, glancing around like a worried dad on a field trip. “So. What do you think?”

“I think it’s loud, smelly, strange… and somehow, I like it.”

Bucky snorted. “She fits right in.”

A pause.

You turned to him slowly. “Did you just compliment me?”

“No.”

“Steve, did Bucky just-“

“Let it go,” Steve said, holding up a hand. “If you draw attention to it, he’ll stop.”

“I will stop,” Bucky grumbled, but you caught the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

And just like that, you realized you weren’t just visiting the surface anymore.

You were starting to belong.

Later that week, Steve had an idea. Which should have been your first red flag.

“The aquarium?” You repeated, blinking at him.

“I thought you’d like it,” He said, a little too cheerfully.

Bucky made a face behind him. “Steve, no.”

“Steve, yes,” Steve insisted. “It’s educational.”

You stared at him. “You want to take a mermaid… to an aquarium.”

Steve faltered. “I mean, technically, you're in human form-“

“Oh, good. Then my existential horror should be easier to manage.”

Twenty minutes later, you stood at the entrance, arms crossed, staring up at a banner that read: “OCEANS OF WONDER: A CELEBRATION OF MARINE LIFE!”

“They’ve trapped the wonder,” You muttered. “How tragic.”

Steve was already buying tickets. Bucky stood beside you with the dead-eyed expression of someone bracing for impact. “If you try to free the sharks,” He said, “I’m walking into traffic.”

“No promises.”

The place was crowded, echoey, and smelled like child-fueled chaos and filtered seawater. You stayed quiet at first, arms folded as you moved from one tank to the next. But the moment you reached the jellyfish exhibit, your eyes lit up.

“They’re still using ultraviolet?” You whispered, squinting at the blacklights overhead. “That’s so… primitive. But charming.”

Bucky leaned over. “You know them?”

“I used to babysit one of them.”

“You’re joking.”

You turned to him solemnly. “I named him Marvin.”

He stared at you. Then slowly pulled Steve aside. “She’s losing it. I think the chlorine is getting to her.”

You shoved him lightly. “Relax, Barnes. I'm fine. Marvin would vouch for me.”

Things escalated when you reached the “Touch Tank.”

Steve was excited. “You get to touch starfish and sea cucumbers! It’s for all ages!”

You looked at him like he’d just handed you a knife and told you to pet a toaster.

“Touch them?” You echoed. “Like… poke?”

“Gently.”

“They don’t like that, you know.”

“Well, it’s supervised-“

“I will organize a revolt.”

Steve sighed. “Please don’t.”

But it was too late. You crouched next to the tank and began whispering to the creatures. The poor aquarium staffer nearby paled visibly when you leaned over and whispered, “If anyone here speaks mollusk, blink twice.”

Bucky took one look at the wide-eyed teenager manning the tank and grabbed Steve by the elbow. “We need to leave.”

Steve was panicking. “We can’t just leave her!”

“We’re not. We’re relocating before she stages a sea-creature uprising.”

The final straw came at the dolphin exhibit.

You stood there silently, watching the dolphins flip and leap. Your expression turned from awe to deep concern. Then you slowly looked over at Steve.

“You know they think humans are idiots, right?”

Steve blinked. “Wait, what?”

“The dolphins. They gossip. They think you all wear clothes because you’re insecure.”

Steve blushed. “We’re not insecure.”

“Sure,” You said flatly, crossing your arms.

Then you made a sharp clicking sound in your throat, something quick and high-pitched, and one of the dolphins slapped the water with its tail.

The splash hit a group of college students who immediately screamed.

You turned to Bucky.

“I did nothing.”

“You did something.”

By the time you were escorted out politely, but firmly, Steve looked like he needed a nap, and Bucky was grinning like a cat who got a ton of fish.

“I told you not to take her,” Bucky said smugly as he opened the car door.

“She enjoyed it!” Steve argued.

“She got us banned, Steve.”

You slid into the back seat, still damp, still amused. “Technically, it’s just a suspension. The manager said I could return if I stopped ‘communicating’ with the animals.”

Steve groaned. “That’s not going in the report.”

“What report?” Bucky asked.

Steve gestured wildly. “The one I don’t want to write but probably have to because she weaponized a dolphin.”

You grinned, resting your head against the seat.

Honestly? You couldn’t wait to go back.

#steve rogers x bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader x steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #marvel fic #marvel x reader #steve rogers #mermaid!reader

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kewpikayo · 8 months ago

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"Partners...?" Human Alastor x Reader

Chapter 3: WC: 4,488

I dedicate this third and final instalment to the astounding @jurijyuu, the extraordinary @redvexillum and the spectacular @melodyonthewireless. Thank you all so much!!!!

Warnings & tags: Violence, bloodshed, environmental destruction, Survivor's guilt, Minor character death(s). Alastor is still a little shit.

Chapter 1: Team Player

Chapter 2: Left Hanging

You are at Chapter 3: Burning Alive

Inhaling deeply, your senses awoke to the sharpness that often comes with smoke, your lungs burning with the ache of a thousand suns. Your skin felt hot underneath your jean jacket, singed and crisp as the denim clung to you. You felt as if you were being cooked. Everything ached and burned…

…Everything was burning…

…Everything was on fire.

Your eyes flash open, surveying your limited horizontal surroundings to finally come to the conclusion your nose had already gained the answers to. Your cheek was clinging to the damp earth, your hair no doubt doused in its essence as you attempted to move the hand seated next to your face.

Why was everything burning? Why were you lying down? When did you pass out? You didn’t remember falling asleep.

As the fogginess in your brain subsided, it leaked through your ears and into the air around you. Smoke mixed with your tangible thoughts until it produced an heir of smog floating just barely over the nearby cattails. The mist was faint as your form clung low to the ground where oxygen was ample. You were safe from the promised flame.

For now…

Ignoring the terrible ache that afflicted the inside of your lungs and nearly everywhere else on your person, you urged yourself to your knees. You offered yourself copious pauses until the majority of your weight rested upon your shins, sinking you deeper into the sticky mud as you tried to ascertain what happened.

As if an immediate clue to what had transpired, your eyes caressed the blurry horizon amidst the crackle of far off flame. The landscape offered nothing but freedom and an over abundance of naked trees amidst the dank marsh. The rare form of sunlight licked through the spaces in between their branches as smog continued to offer you shelter.

You had…Escaped?

Relief flooded into your system as an audible laugh of disbelief smuggled its way out of your mouth, rapidly turning into a strangled scream that lodged itself in your throat as your face turned to the side to observe your silent audience.

Fingertips clawed at the tender skin of your cheeks, the feel of gravel and muck abrasive on your flesh and underneath your touch as your voice fought in your mouth. Your brain was unsure of whether to release the tension in your voicebox or swallow the urge completely. Your eyes bore into the ones belonging to a deceased compatriot. It was the most macabre staring contest you had ever held witness to or participated in to date.

Unfamiliar spheres devoid of life bore into your soul as your irises timidly traced along the outline of the corpse of another survivor, ending their travels at the male's neck. A thin, clean cut awaited your sights; continuously oozing the deepest burgundy into an ocean beneath him. The kill was fresh.

What happened? Usually the Entity retrieved what souls she captured from the hooks, collecting the entirety of her victim’s essance and leaving nothing behind. Surely it wasn't her doing.

With a deathly chill creeping up your spine, your mind ascertained that only one other individual could’ve caused what afflicted your eyes.

As if an immediate confirmation to your discoveries, the subtleness of serrated laughter cut through the air. The clipped sound came from a familiar voice, cold but pleased in its utterance.

It was getting closer.

You didn’t want to turn around.

The hands still drawn to your cheeks curled over your flesh, dirty nails digging into delicate skin as your breath ceased in shock. You closed your eyes tightly. Memories from what happened only hours prior flooded into your mind’s eye in brief flashes. They were gruesome details you would’ve happily lived without.

The generator’s were finished, the exit gates opened. Another survivor made an appearance only to be brought to his knees by your partner; hamstrings slashed to oblivion by the knife Alastor harbored.

A bloody race to the death was requested of you to satiate the obvious boredom drenching into your partner’s visage. It was a race you had won, and you had to look away as the other life fighting against fate’s clock was forfeit. The blade in Alastor’s hands brought about a swift end. You hoped it had been painless; but by the sounds and gurgles the victim made you sincerely doubted it.

Then flame. Nothing but flame dousing every inch of the land in its torrential wake. It continued in its encroachment in the weeds and over the boglike water; smoke pairing with its vicious heat to the point it made the sweat on your brow more prominent. Your vision grew even more blurry. The smell was putrid, and severely unharmonious to your senses.

Finished with the visuals your mind relentlessly supplied, you opened your eyes. Finally turning your head to greet the crunch of grass under boots and the laughter that had all but gotten louder, your body froze once again. Horror gripped you at the grotesque sight.

Human flesh burned away, allowing Dark curls to transform into only the brightest of reds as animalistic ears sprouted from his crown, the edges of which tinted the deepest shade of old blood. The man’s eyes were lidded, beholding you calmly with all the boldness in the world. Your partner’s smile was sharp, golden and grand across the expanse of his face. As he continued to grow near, he grinned at you with an uncanniness that made your blood run cold.

Alastor's newly acquired overcoat was ripped as it flapped in the wind, dancing with the soot and debris the warm wind carried overhead. A few ashes fell upon his shoulders, but with effortless poise the demon wiped his clothing to perfection; continuing to stalk over to you, his footwork calculated and quiet. The only sound escaping him was the slight buzz of static.

You couldn’t stop staring.

“Well, I suppose that’s a bargain completed and a job well done. Wouldn’t you agree, doll?”

Your partner was…A red devil? Your thoughts buffered as Alastor clapped dust from his palms and continued drawing close as he knelt down to collect his blade from the ground. He certainly wasn’t human, that was for sure. Somehow he had even gotten taller, his plush ears reaching heaven as antlers akin to the sharpest thistles and thorns crowned his head.

Wiping his blade clean on his trousers, the knife glinted in the light of dawn as he looked from his task to you to regard you calmly.

He. Wasn’t. Human.

It all made sense now. His prowess and knack for killing without attaining injury, even his speed. He was seemingly unmatched. It was all coming full circle.

With the last remnants of humanity that still clung to Alastor being licked away by flame, the blood rushed in your ears as you tried to teach your lungs to breathe again. To no avail. You were petrified. The only reality available to you was the visage of a red devil with a golden grin and a compelling, bloody stare.

Your dry tongue could only produce audio for one feeble thought.

“...Why…?”

Alastor didn’t seem bothered by your pondering as he made quick work of placing his knife back into its sheath. He didn’t answer you.

“...Why did you feel the need to kill them…? Fuck…Why did you…Why did you kill the other survivors…?!”

Another pause followed your words as Alastor tilted his head, his bob tickling his cheeks as the wind tousled it gently. The words that exited his lips were accompanied by an odd frequency, filtered and distorted until his voice was as grotesque and bizarre as his transformation.

“...What an odd question from the one requesting their blood be shed in the first place; but I suppose I’m inclined to give an answer…”

A few steps forward brought him in front of you, kneeling to accommodate your weakened state.

“Doll…Have you ever heard of the phrase, ‘The devil’s in the details…?’”

The silence following your partner’s words seeped into your subconscious as he continued to fuel your ears with your own words.

“You were the one requesting I ‘“pick off the others”’… I dare say you even made mention for me to, ‘“Stab people”’…? Why are you confused dear…? I only did as requested.”

The horror in your heart as you realized your audible mistake was immense. You hadn’t specified who Alastor killed, just that he did so.

You were just as guilty in everyone’s demise as your partner was…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alastor regarded you with a curious grin, regret blooming onto your features as if your skin was a beautifully curated garden, lush with melancholy and woe.

The sight was delicious. Your despair was a feast.

As precious moments passed by and the elusive sun reflected in the metal buttons, trinkets and pins on your denim jacket; the same type of question graced your lips a second time.

“...But….Why did you kill all of them….I-I didn’t ask you to….You knew I meant the….The bad ones…”

“Oh? Did I?”

You glanced up at him in wary confusion.

“ How are you so sure? After all, verbiage is very important when it comes to contractual agreements.”

A chuckle left him, sharp and eloquent.

“Since there were no such specifications, I just took the liberty to execute my end of our bargain with only the utmost dedication…You're most welcome, by the way.”

Straightening his monocle with his free hand; Alastor made a minor adjustment to insure its continued attunement to his face. Words flowed from his practiced lips like silk.

“The others served me no purpose, and I dare say it’s a bit unfair to have a young lady do all the work herself. They would have benefited from all of your hard work and you would’ve received no compensation for it. We couldn’t have that…”

“But…They were just trying to survive, like I was…Like w-we both were…”

Your voice grew with the added weight that your heavily clouded thoughts no doubt provided.

“Why…Why didn’t you kill me…?”

It was a rhetorical question, uttered to yourself in the faintest, most poignant of whispers; a doubt so profound it sent your callous voice retreating into the back of your throat. How pathetically adorable.

However pleasant and enjoyable the sight your mental turmoil produced; your persistent scowl accompanied such an ugly little frown on your delicate, bloodstained features. He would fix that. Promptly.

“My dear, we are partners, are we not? You said so yourself…So why in Heaven’s name would I end someone who has proved beneficial to me? It’s a bad business practice. Surely you can understand something so simple…”

“I…I get that, but…Why even go through all the trouble to leave a witness in the first place…? You killed everyone else, so why not take my life too? Sounds half assed if you ask me…If you’re gonna commit to a killin’ spree, then you better damn well finish what you started…”

The timorous eyes that hid from him boldly gave themselves as a gift, dauntless in presentation as you gazed at him. The sunlight and the flames surrounding you supplied the additional amount of charm reflected in your eyes. It was an inner strength Alastor was marveled by.

Defiant little thing. He laughed, appreciating the challenge your venomous gaze wordlessly taunted him with. What fun you were.

Unfortunately for you, he would be the one calling the shots.

“You’re right. I love an audience, but usually my “hobbies” were never public knowledge in life. Ha! I do suppose you are right, though. How “half assed” of me indeed…However, it is not an issue I intend to amend…”

Alastor brought his hand to your chin, the pad of his thumb tactfully floating over your bottom lip. You flinched at his touch but didn’t back away.

“Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t allow the chance for any witnesses; but you have dutifully performed your purpose and have kept your side of our shared bargain. A reward for your services is owed to you, yes?”

Crisp, unwavering irises bore into bloody ones as the demon’s smile upped in charm.

“Besides, I…”

Propping his forearm on his knee; his free hand shuffled amongst the contents of his coat pocket in search of something to occupy the emptiness of his claws. His finger tips ached for something of old habit.

“...I suppose you could say that I’ve taken a shine to you…You have moxie. A will, a determination, to survive. I’ve witnessed you dauntlessly stare death in the face thrice this evening, plus or minus a few tears and a bit of bloodshed, of course…”

The tips of his claws found purchase on the carton of his favorite brand of cigarettes that made a nest in his breast pocket. They had remained from the last time they were ever used, some fifty odd years ago.

He placed the fragile, open pack of cigarettes on the wet earth, reaching for one to light. He took note of how your eyes flitted to his hands; a curiosity, a distrust of him, taking root in their depths. Good. He had always liked keeping his audience on their toes, guessing what his next move would be.

“You could say that you have a light in your eyes that the others failed to possess…”

Finally procuring a smoke from his old carton of Lucky Strikes, Alastor made haste in lighting one between his red fingertips. Now in his usual form, his power was restored to him.

“You intrigue me; and it would be a disservice to you to allow that spirit of yours to dwindle if I have means to curate it and offer it another opportunity to thrive.”

Lifting the chosen cigarette to his lips, he took in a long drawl before blowing smoke out of the side of his smile. He stifled a cough, not used to the all too familiar burn after years out of practice. The taste, though old, was just as he remembered. Terrible; but the rush he desired was still the same.

“Sometimes you must let game go so they may give you a greater thrill in the future…Any good hunter worth his salt knows this…”

Another drawl of the nicotine in his fingers had him blowing the smoke over his shoulder. The smell was just as foul as the smog wafting over the stagnant water of the bayou.

“Killing you, my dear, would have certainly been a treat; but knowing I am the sole reason for your escape is the greater thrill this morning. Perhaps, one of these days, you will find yourself in front of my blade rather than behind it…Only time will tell…”

The thumb floating over your bottom lip finally pressed into your skin, ghosting over your frown until it reached its corner. His palm cupped your face as he pinched the excess skin in between his fingers.

Alastor was silent a moment, captivated by the scowl and that disgruntled stare you presented him.

“Hmm…I suppose that beneath all the muck, grime and that vexing frown of yours…”

His grip tightened on your cheek as he pulled at your face teasingly, moving his cigarette away from his lips.

“... There is a sweetness to your features…A softness I quite like…”

His claw pushed further into your cheek, blood gently oozing out of your flesh as he carefully went in an upward line; tracing a lopsided smile into your dimple.

If you wouldn’t willingly give him a smile, then he would make one.

You flinched at the pain the demon inflicted, but dared not move away. He admired your wisdom and your willingness to acknowledge that you were bested. You were out classed, and he could do to you what he wished. You were his captive audience and he had you tuned into every single word he deemed fit to express. It was such a delicious experience.

Perhaps he should’ve at least asked for a grin before he departed. His mannerisms just ensured he would see one from you that morning, but perhaps you would be generous after he was so kind as to spare you? A smile was the only thing he requested in thanks for his generosity. Supplying one shouldn’t be that hard for you.

“...Of course, you would look one hundred times better with a nice little grin. Surely you’ll grant me the pleasure of seeing it…?”

Alastor tilted his head as he regarded you, adding a teasing lilt to his calculated crooning.

“You would do anything for your partner, yes…? Such a loyal, dutiful little soul you are…”

The audible, mocking purr forming in the depths of his throat faded as his own smile grew in devilish charm. What a sight you were. An obstinate statue of dismal decorum. One he could, he would, will to submission.

Just as he silently willed it did it come forth, tentative and delicate. Obviously laced with fear and disdain. The curvature of your lips was not quite genuine, defiant as you begrudgingly gifted a grin to him. Still, it was a gift he accepted all the same; regardless of how stubborn and unwillful the presentation.

What a treat, to come across such an adorably, obstinate soul. Your company certainly proved to be enjoyable, strangely enough. Alastor was thankful he didn’t kill you when he had the chance. A world of entertainment would’ve been lost without your company.

His eyes clung to the reticent smile embroidered into your features as your brow furrowed; painting a peculiar expression that he just couldn’t get enough of.

He couldn’t look away.

“...Breathtaking…”

Lifting his cigarette to his lips once more, Alastor took a deep inhale of smoke only to blow it back into your face with a proud chuckle. His eyes finally tore themselves from your smile to meet your eyes once more. He watched with twisted glee as you scrunched your nose up at the smell, coughing feebly into your sleeve.

Your varied reactions that morning had more than satiated his curiosity. For once, in a long while, the demon was content.

“Now…You’ve been a lovely audience; but I’m afraid that this is where we part…”

Releasing your face from his hold, he patted your cheek gently. He was sure to coat his fingers in copious amounts of the blood trickling down from the marks he created before letting you go.

“...Perhaps we will meet again, old sport…”

A hunger was present in his gaze as he took a final drawl from his cigarette before throwing it to the weeds, quenching the few sparks his actions made into the muck under the heel of his oxfords. He held the smoke in his lungs only to release it as he gripped the edge of your baseball cap. With a delicate flick of his claws, the hat was moved to obscure your vision as he gave a fond, jaunty laugh. As promised, amusement flooded his chest when he watched you fix your cap to its original place on your crown with a hefty huff.

Yes. Your company was most satisfying indeed…

“Until then…Adieu…”

Feeling his time was amply used to its maximum purpose, he turned on his heel and headed promptly into the direction of naked trees and sparse foliage. Freedom greeted him in the light of the dawn, the chirping of crickets dying away as morning echoed its breath over everything in sight. A hum found its way on his lips, pleased and bold as he put a bit more pep in his step in his exit; sufficiently satisfied with leaving you as his sole witness.

According to Alastor, you had more than earned the opportunity to keep your life.

It was a fate most befitting for any partner worthy of the Great Radio Demon…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fixing your cap from your partner’s rude treatment of it, you lifted the hat from your head only to place it gently back in its place. Your eyes glared at the remnants of the smoldering cigarette butt that made the grass into a makeshift funeral pyre, smoke giving the sparks brief life even moments after they were snuffed out.

Why did Alastor even feel the need to snuff out a possible fire threat when the whole premises was already ablaze? It made no sense to your tired mind as your eyes broke from the corpse of the cancer stick in front of you to the other fresh corpse beside you. Guilt gripped your chest yet again as fear ripped your focus to your shaking, sin-covered palms.

The smile Alastor coaxed from you previously with his words and his claws remained, frozen as your hands shook. You clenched and unclenched your bloody, oil covered fingers as you steadied your breathing. You willed the desire to scream, to sob, to leave you.

You would not cry.

You. Would. Not. Cry.

Tears as defiant as you stung the wounds in your cheeks in their fearful descent as your grin faltered into a downward curve. You bit your bloody lip, harsh breathing traded for stifled screams. Regret held you in a choke hold as the gravity of your despair ripped your throat on its way out. You weren’t sure if the taste of iron was from your busted lips or the magnitude of your voice.

Your head molded into your hands, muffling your anguished cries in an attempt to calm your torrential emotions; but to no avail.

You were pathetic. Why were you weeping? You weren’t mourning the dead; but your integrity. Yourself. You selfishly drew in breath while the other survivors, victims, would never have that opportunity to do so again.

All because of the words you misspoke in haste to secure your own future.

Why were you sobbing? Why were you so ungrateful for the chance to live? You cared for no one but yourself, so why did tears insist on falling for complete strangers?

Why didn’t you beg, insist, for Alastor to kill you too?

You didn’t deserve to be alive. You were a mistake. A useless partner, getting caught constantly and needing someone else’s protection and blaming your shortcomings onto Alastor when he wouldn’t help you. You were useless when it came to survival, when it came to helping anyone else but yourself…

You truly were a useless soul, petulant and needy.

Useless. Selfish. Awful.

Bereft for complete strangers and left shocked to your core, your voice continued to escape loudly into the air. Your voice was free.

You were free.

You were alive. They were not.

You. Were. Alive.

You were the only one alive…

But at what cost…?

“...Dammit…!”

You bit down into your palms, tasting earth, iron and oil as you felt the grit of loose gravel against bone. Only the wretched taste of dirt and blood and the intensity of flesh being painfully punctured under teeth was available to you.

The pain meant you were alive...

…You didn’t deserve to be alive…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The favored taste of old pennies remained in the back of the Overlord’s pallet, enjoyable down to the last taste as Alastor licked his fingers clean. The previous sight of your blood reawakened his hunger. It was only fitting he should allow himself a taste. It was a sufficient reward for his own successful efforts.

After all, it was breakfast time once again.

The all too familiar, bitter savor of metal lingered on his claws and tongue as a melody came to life in the radio host’s voice. A bright, tenor hum greeted the sunrise as the snap of twigs and crunch of grass turned to debris under his oxfords. Alastor was in his element; and for the first time in a long while, he was content.

Things were good, thanks to you.

Turning a sharp left around a group of dismal looking shrubs and trees, the peculiar sight of something as otherworldly as himself caught Alastor’s eye. Deep in the depths of the foliage, broken tree stumps and endless cattails was a portal. Its construction was very much akin to his own he would use to teleport around the hotel and all throughout Hell.

Perhaps this “Entity” you spoke of previously was pleased with his slaughter; having a portal prepared for his return home? How convenient…

Swift, long strides carried the Overlord closer to the gateway that awaited him. Beyond the threshold was the all too familiar sights of his radio tower, his broadcasting equipment just as he had left it as the fresh scent of coffee wafted into his greedy senses.

Before he could move any further towards his destination, however, the exhilarating sound of an all too familiar voice graced his hearing. Velvety ears swiveled around at the sound, intent on capturing each individual cadence and rhythm the voice presented.

You could be heard gracelessly caterwauling just over the expanse of pitiful trees that surrounded the demon, a great distance away. Despite the dissonant way you carried your voice, your screams were entrancing. Enthralling. Once again, you had captured his attention with ease.

Alastor closed his eyes to appreciate the magnitude of the suffering he audibly held witness to. Not only had you given him a smile, but a beautifully orchestrated chorus of screams? You were far too generous.

He was giddy. Elated. The sound of such sweet sorrow lifted his spirits. What a delightful parting gift you had bestowed.

‘...Such an interesting and useful little thing you’ve proven to be…’

With the corners of his lips lifted significantly, Alastor made a decision. One of these days, he would see you again; and what a wonderful reunion it would be indeed.

It was just a matter of when…

Pausing a moment more, the demon contented himself with listening to the impassioned fragments of your agony until the wind carried the pleasure of your voice from him. Your volume died with the night.

Despite the shortness of your performance, he committed the experience to memory. The pitifulness of your existence embedded itself into his clothing and his mind, demanding to be remembered.

Alastor breathed in once more, enraptured with the rarity the night had supplied him. Thanks to you, he was more than satisfied. Your “song” had left him genuinely renewed. Realizing the gravity of such a rare thing deserved a bit of reverence as he took a sharp breath, memorizing the way the morning tasted of smoke and terror. It wasn’t too dissimilar from where he was headed.

“...My, what a lovely send off; and such a pleasant way to commemorate our partnership. Though, It’s such a shame there isn’t enough time for an encore... Oh well. Perhaps another time…”

Stepping through the provided portal, the first notes of birdsong resumed throughout his surrounds, mirroring Alastor’s humming from before. He glanced behind him with a fond grin filled to the brim with excitement; taking in the remnants of smoke on the opposite horizon as the gateway to you closed behind him.

…His partner truly was the best.

#hookedonhazbin2024 #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel halloween #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #dead by daylight crossover #hazbin hotel fanfiction #Thank you so much for reading!!!!#I hope you had fun and enjoyed the ride!#Thanks for staying tuned!

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newyorkthegoldenage · 7 months ago

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With a turn of a ceremonial key, Parks Commissioner Walter R. Herrick demonstrated the newly installed sprinklers throughout Central Park on December 8, 1928.

The Times reported that the pipes of the new irrigation system, which have "concealed spray heads," will be controlled by a timer and create a fine mist. "Its operation starts with an electric clock which turns the system on or off at the given time." The system was estimated to do in 10 minutes the watering work of 10 men over several days.

Photo: NY Times

#vintage New York #1920s #Central Park #sprinklers #sprinkler system #Dec. 8 #8 Dec.#parks #irrigation system #1920s New York

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goodolddumbbanana · 11 months ago

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(Molten/Sun platonic) A little nightmare [TW: Violence, blood, maybe bugs]

Summary: I like angsty and fluff. i have problem man.

The Thing Creator install still inside Sun's head. It still totured Sun but it made him forget everything after he woke up.

They say there are three things that separate machines from humans.

The first is that humans feel pain, machines don't.

The second is that humans can dream, machines don't.

And the last is that humans have emotions, machines can only fake them.

So when all three conditions are met, can machines call themselves human?

***

Someone's heavy breathing. The hallway is dyed red with blood, seeing the fleeing figure struggling in the swamp of flesh and bone that is dragging them down. They are like trapped in the stomach of a monster, with the walls vibrating in a steady rhythm as if breathing and the flickering eyes that watch their misery like something to behold.

Sun tries to pull himself out of the swamp. His limbs thrash in panic, as his mouth opens, hoping to get some oxygen. A sweet, fishy taste rushed into Sun’s mouth, making him make pitiful gurgling noises as he was about to choke.

‘It’s not real.’

‘It’s all in your head, Sun.’

‘Be patient, Moon will come to save you.’

But no matter how many times he repeated the mantra, Sun himself couldn’t believe it.

Every night. Every damn freaking night. Sun would be stuck here, reliving the endless pain his dear old father had left him the day that wretched old hag hacked into his head.

First was the broken leg .

Pain that made him hard to breathe. Pain that felt like his lungs were being squeezed and submerged in water. Pain worse than anything Eclipse and Moon had ever put him through before, pain that left him unable to scream. His nails dug into the metal, bending it and creating ugly scratches and dents as an unhealthy defense mechanism to ease the pain.

If Sun had a tongue, he would have bitten it off by now.

Then came the loss of vision .

The mist was so thick it was hard to breathe, surrounding Sun like a heavy, wet blanket. It clung to Sun’s throat, sharp as if it contained tiny metal fragments, invading Sun’s circuit boards and fans like termites, feasting on the wires inside Sun’s body. It felt like thousands of worms were eating him from the inside out, with buzzing sounds mixed with screams that almost reached the limits of Sun’s madness.

‘Tear it out… Tear it out… Take it all out! PLEASE!!!’

Sun cried out for help, but nobody came. His pearly eyes were still red, the smell of burning flesh lingering in his nose like sap on the hottest day. The electric explosions were whistling inside him, the system kept popping out golden triangles, even now, it was replaced by plump white legless creatures crawling across his inner screen.

Hearing was the last thing.

In that eerie silence, Sun's screams were swallowed into nothingness. He had a mouth, but he couldn't scream.

***

"Frog dissection experiments are really inhumane, right Mr.Sun?"

Sun blinked, and suddenly, he was in the daycare. The room music was whispering in his ears, and the brilliant colors of light kissed Sun's skin.

'Wha–?!'

A small hand grabbed Sun's ribbon and shook it. The little boy with the superhero cape had eyes shining like stars, looking at him with anticipation and excitement.

"What did you say? I don't understand..." Sun stuttered. "Well... It's educational to some extent... I guess?"

"Sunny!!..." The kid huffed. The other kids looked at each other with amusement.

"See, Huey, you're wrong!" Another kid, wearing big glasses and blond hair, shouted.

"Shut up Jackie! My mom says it's not nice to hurt animals!" Huey waved his arms wildly, for some reason the red of the cape wrapped around this kid reminded him of blood.

"Pfft!! You are chicken!! Chicken Huey!" Jackie stuck out his tongue.

The twins behind him squealed with laughter, matching the rhyme: "Huey's a chicken! Huey's a chicken!"

"Come on James, Jamie. You can't tease Huey like that." Sun cut off the teasing when he noticed Huey was starting to tear up. “That’s not good, okay?”

“I’m not a chicken.” Huey’s eyes were red, his voice starting to crack. Sun pulled Huey into his arms, patting the child’s back. A sick feeling came over him as the child lay snugly in his arms.

“No one said Huey was a chicken. You’re the bravest person I know. Those kids were just teasing…”

“But what do you think, Sunny?”

A whisper rang out in Sun’s heart. The music had stopped at some point, and something was dripping behind Sun.

“What–!?”

“Do you think that because a frog’s life is worth less than a human’s, it deserves to be tortured like that, Sun?”

Something slipped out of Sun’s arms, falling to the ground. A human body, the body of a child. In Sun’s arms was only Huey’s head. Two empty eye sockets stared at him, the boy’s mouth still open, smiling at him.

In the blink of an eye, what had once been the daycare was gone. Bodies were strewn everywhere, and blood was in Sun's hands. But right now, Sun was too small, too weak. A laugh rang out, a laugh that Sun was sure was his own, but it didn’t escape his mouth.

His clone, another Sun, stood before Sun with a look of satisfaction. There was blood on the other’s sunbeam, and his intestines and brains were still neatly placed on the monster’s shoulders.

“Brother, look. We have a winner~~~”

“Oh~~~Why don’t we give the winner a prize?”

Sun didn’t even have time to react.‌ The other’s claws shot out, grabbed Sun’s head, and slammed it hard against the ground. He couldn’t move, couldn’t scream, couldn’t do anything but watch as his brains were splattered and his limbs were torn to pieces like rag dolls.

***

“Doctor, look at this specimen.” Sun suddenly found himself trapped in some kind of operating room, with his real body. Surrounded by anatomical images of fish, frogs, and even worms. Opposite his sight was a fish tank. The goldfish swam silently inside, circling around a moon doll whose head was torn off by someone. “Even though it’s dead, it can still move~~~”

Bloodmoon appeared before Sun’s eyes, the red moon model grinning at him with delight, the monster wearing a pure white nurse’s uniform, not a single blemish in contrast to their bloody hands.

The other person was also Bloodmoon, but it was the one who had been destroyed by Puppet. Over their red and blue coats was a surgical gown that specialized doctors often wore.

Sun felt the inside of his chest split open, these two gremlins's hands rudely stirring up the wires and circuit boards inside.

“ Hmm, you’re right, my nurse. Let’s say, I think if we increase the current, I feel like we can make some progress .” Blood nodded, as they ruthlessly tore the fan off Sun’s body.

“ Aren’t you afraid it will die again? ” The other chuckled, but his hand was already ready to plug the power cord into Sun’s charger.

“ Isn't It just a useless thing, my nurse? We can easily replace it with something else .”

And the pain tore everything white, accompanied by Bloodmoon’s cruel chuckle.

***

Sun felt like he was going crazy.

Maybe he was already crazy.

In a blink of an eye, he was back in hell. His whole body was shaking, choking on the air filled with mist and smoke, with a heavy feeling like someone’s hand was dragging him down into the mud. Sun could only limp to the ground, even moving an inch was enough to hurt him so much that he couldn’t breathe.

A black figure stood staring at him, an almost octopus-like body with tendrils shooting out all around, pitch black with irises staring back at him.

“What more do you want!!?” Sun spat. He glared at the person in front of him. His torturer. His prisoner. His newest roommate for over a dozen days.

The Thing.

And as always, the bastard said nothing. A virus, whose sole purpose was to torture him, that didn’t even have a sentient yet.

It moved closer to Sun, the seemingly delicate yet sturdy metal wires pulling Sun up despite Sun’s feeble struggles. The wires clung to the joints and shafts of the frame, tight enough to make him walk like a puppet.

“What?!‌! Say something!!!”

There was only silence in response. There was the sound of dripping water, and the rattling of plastic balls in Sun’s ears. The pain suddenly disappeared, as did the unreadable look on ‘The Thing ’s’ face, always shrouded in red mist.

Sun felt no pain. He felt nothing. He felt empty, so empty and peaceful that it was scary.

Suddenly, a loud, harsh noise, the sound of metal breaking.

What could it be? Sun wondered absentmindedly, suddenly finding his vision lowered.

Oh… The thing that broke turned out to be him.

Piece by piece… Piece by piece the metal that had once shaped Sun fell, crumbling to dust. His face fell off, sinking into the water.

The darkness was cold and too suffocating.

Sun prayed that this would be his final destination.

***

“Sun? Sun, wake up.”

A strange, monotonous, mechanical sound rang out in Sun’s ears.‌ The saffron-colored animatronic jerked awake in confusion, its mouth opening in a jumble of questions.

A soft icy blue light caught Sun’s eyes. A Freddy model with white fur and orange spots, looked at him curiously.

“Oh? Molten? What’s wrong?”

“Oh, no. I saw you fall asleep. Are you tired, Sun?”

Sun looked around in confusion. He was sitting in front of the movie screen. It was strange, when did he fall asleep? He and Molten were watching a movie. Something from Marvel… Then maybe he fell asleep because he was bored? Sun checked his internal system, and found that his battery was only below 30%.

“Oh… It’s okay Molten, I just forgot to plug it in. I guess practicing magic somehow drained my energy more than usual.”

“Can I help? I want to help.” Molten’s ears twitched as if he was excited. It was strange because Sun had never seen Freddy or any Freddy model like Molten.

It was�� quite cute to some extent.

“Oh, no need.” Sun stood up and stretched. His whole body was sore, probably from lying in the wrong position. Right now, all he wanted to do was lie in bed, but the thought of going back to sleep or standing up to charge somehow made him feel discouraged .

Never mind, he could charge himself standing up with the solar power anyway.

“Are you used to everything here, Molten?”

“Yes! Everyone here is really nice!!” Sun could feel stars twinkling in Molten's eye as they rambled on about Moon, about Solar, about Daycare…

“And you haven’t met Jack and Dazzle yet. They’re all pretty cool, trust me.” Sun chuckled, his eyes wandering to the chair where the popcorn crumbs were scattered. It was dirty , bugs, bugs, he hated bugs… Why does he feel like he wants to hit something right now?

“Oh, new friends? I like having new friends. We can play games, and watch movies…” Molten nodded. Their hands were bent, but the sharp, smooth wire still made a rustling sound along the way. Something made Sun feel uneasy, but Sun didn't know what it was.

Maybe he should ask Moon to run the system again, it had been a long time since he had upgraded anyway.

But maybe later. Moon was quite busy, and Solar too. The Computer got broke, which caused them a lot of trouble. Too much work to do and too little time to spend.

"But you're fine, Sun." The words sounded so gentle in Sun's ears that he was startled. Sun looked up, Motlen's face still looked the same, a look of innocent joy that made Sun a mixture of guilt and relaxation.

Why are you so nice to me? I don't deserve it, I really don't deserve it at all. I'm not as smart as Moon or as reliable as Solar. Even Monty is more responsible than me.

I will destroy you.

I will be the venom that will burn you from the inside.

I will turn the best part of you into something ugly, like Rocksan, like Nexus, all because I dare to think about caring.

Eclipse is right, I'm an ungrateful idiot who only knows how to cling to others.

As if reading his mind, Molten smiled. "I love to hang out with you because I know you are a good and caring person. But I know it is hard for you to believe it. So I will keep saying these words until you believe the words I say are true."

Something stirred in Sun's chest, so quickly that he immediately suppressed the feeling.

Can he really have a friend? Someone wouldn't suddenly break like Rocksan, someone wouldn’t be so spiral like Nexus.

Is it okay for him to have someone other than Moon?

“Hahahaha… yeah sure, Molten.”

Sun laughed, but inside he had no answer to that confusion.

Please leave me.Please stay with me.

***

“Hope is a terrible thing, Sun. It keeps you from giving up no matter how hard things get, but it can also make your situation worse without you even knowing it. Why is the sinner clings to a spider’s thread, even though he knows it will break, he still tries to climb up countless times?

That is because of hope, or desperation?

A song that is danced to many times will become boring too, don’t you think it is true, son? Are you ready to give up?”

Creator asked his creation affectionately, who was forcefully sitting on a throne that was stacked high with human bones.

Exhausted, bloody, bruised, and stained with a clean brown and yellow, the son of the most self-absorbed bastard on the planet, who could only move his head right now, gritting out the words.

“Go to hell, old man.”

“Oh well, and I thought I am making some progress. It's a shame this talk didn’t work out. Let's try again, my boy. See you next time, Sun.”

The brain chuckled, and once again the hands grabbed Sun and pulled him into the water, making gurgling, gurgling sounds.

“Maybe I should switch the target to Molten.”

#sun and moon show #tsams #sams #the sun and moon show #sams sun #tsams sun #tsams molten #molten x sun #haha i am crused #molten/sun

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burdigel · 9 months ago

Text

Theories and Headcannons Pt. 24

So a week ago we got a little teaser from Martyn about hints for the next Life Series season, around an hour after we got another subtle clue from Cherrifire, a commissioned arist of Martyn and Grian for their thumbnails. Moving onto four days later where in a Phasmo stream with GIGS, Grian althought not explicitly, teased the recording of a certain something. That something most likely being the next installment of the Life Series as he previously stated during the aftermath of the Ender Cup, that the next season was in development. So now four months later, and with the release of that little crumb of information you would think it would be the last. But approximately an hour ago (of the time writing this), Scar drops a bombshell of information as a GIF of traffic lights blinking.

Effectively reinforcing the possibility of the next season arriving extremely soon as traffic lights is a predominant symbol of the Life Series with the three-life system of green, yellow, and red matching with the known pattern of traffic lights. Hence traffiblr also referring to the Life Series.

With the date of the next season of the Life Series been generally confirmed, the twist of this subsequent still remains unknown. But by disecting each post from credible sources (Inthelittlewood, Cherrifire and GoodtimewithScar), it's possible to gain a sliver of understanding about the next gimmick for this upcoming season.

Starting with Martyn's post, his reponse to a question regarding the Life series were a series of rhyming verses otherwise known as a couplet. His reponse goes as:

"Nope. Not a slither, not a slice, not a hint, not a price,

not a right, not a wrong, not a verse, not a song,

not a fork, not a list, not a fog, not a mist,

not a shine, not a spree, not a thing from me"

With lines and words like not a slither, slice, hint, verse, list and not a thing from me commonly used in other media to express a concept that is left unsaid or unexplained to conceal or hide information. Other phrases like not a price, right, wrong, song, fork, fog, mist, shine and not a spree seem unusual and seem only used to act as rhyming words. But since this couplet's rhyming patterns goes like (word) (rhyming word) (word) (rhyming word), words like price, wrong, song, mist and spree can be eliminated only leaving right, fork, fog and shine used for clues.

Words like fog and shine can be connected easily with the concept of revealing something concealed by layers of dense things with the good or "light". Maybe uncovering the lore of the Watcher's to the rest of the participants as the right path taken since the Watcher has a lasting cameo in the previous Life Series. It would be poetic as the fifth installment of the Life Series that the Watchers would return as an antagonist force. The way fork is incoporated into this theory is the mannered and dignified repute it carries where in the eleventh century, it was considered prestigous or vain to use a fork. Similar to the Watchers and the means they present themselves.

Other theories like @strychninesss 's double life 2 utilises the couplet's use of repition and pairs to conlclude the return of the soulmate gimmick with its repeatability and new possibilities with the pairing of new soulmates.

Our second poem arrived from Martyn's accomplice Cherrifire, with her reply to his cryptid poem was to produce another poem herself and that being:

"Oh, well in that case you're not getting a peep, not even a taste of the secrets I keep.

Of course, I could tell you all I know, but it's way more fun to give you a show.

Or perhaps this is all a trick, and Martyn’s just being a— very mean person.

Whatever it may be, you'll just have to wait and see."

With this poem following the rhythmic pattern of (Rhyming) (Rhyming), the couplet mainly focuses on the information Cherri deliberately chooses to withold and the her dilemma to diclose her details to fandom. In the end, she decides to hold the spoilers and express her intrest into the chaos that can produced with limited clues given before the said show begins.

Well the structure and the style of the poem is reminiscient of how the Watchers approach and address the members of Evolution SMP back in 2017. With the Watchers depicted as this all-knowing beings that can see everything and perceive all things, they often speak in this entitled mannerisim due to their privileged abilities. And with the legacy of the Watchers being continued but altered with every iteration or headcannon of them, they have commonly been altered into these beings that revel in the chaos and angst produced by the participants of the Life Series. This message could be a warning to the fans that the Watcher's could play a more major role compared to the Secret Keeper in Secret Life as a tribute to the four seasons and three years of the Life Series.

These statements revealed by Grian, Scar, Martyn and Cherrifire has just almost confirmed the arrival of the season five for the Life Series be very soon. Although there is the possibility Grian could be hyping us up for an entirely different video that collaborates with other mcytbers, evidence piles to point towards the next installment coming hopefully, next week.

____

All links and references used are in the post and uh special thanks? regards? to @aethbeans and their twitter account that compiled messages from Scar's discord server regarding clues to the upcoming Life Series.

Oh COd I was scrambling to finish writing this one

#burd!theories&headcannons #trafficblr #traffic smp #life series #grian #goodtimeswithscar #gtwscar #martyn inthelittlewood #gtws #martyn itlw #watchers #evo watchers #cherrifire #evo smp

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wearepaladin · 5 months ago

Note

14, 19, 22, and 24 for Thane for the RT questions?

14. Who was the most important person in their life prior to becoming a Rogue Trader?

After Thane survived her intended sacrifice before the Astronomicon, she was taken to the Fortress of Titan, for warrior psykana training. Had she the right organs for it, she probably would have been inducted into the Grey Knights, and regardless was to be indoctrinated into being a warrior psyker for the Inquisition. Her favorite teacher was Master Tengri, a warrior of Chogoris descent who taught everything she knows on how to be a bladedancer. Tengri was a baseline human, but had a great deal experience in combatting Chaos, who along with sword play and extensive physical and martial training, taught her techniques on how to keep herself centered in the here and now, not only as a tactical mindset, but to combat the influence of both Chaos and Dogmatism on the mind in favor of Truth. She thinks he's still alive, but the chances of ever finding out through the kind of security on Titan makes that unlikely to be something she will ever know. 19. Which three skills are of the most value to them? 1. In combat, she unapologetically embraces what the Imperium considers a cardinal sin among Pskyers and lets the power of the Warp flow through her like a conduit. Mechanically this reflects itself as her being pyro/sanctic psyker bladedancer executioner, which means that everything dies to her hand in combat if she's able to get enough of a charge going. Lorewise this is always a risk, but since Thane has never met a Daemon, even a Greater Daemon, she couldn't evaporate into blood and offal mist for looking at her funny, she will not stop mastering that power. 2. Politically, she values her self awareness compared to other authorities of power she's interacted with in the Expanse. Her fellow rogue trader, xenos and chaos leaders, imperial commanders, etc, they shared the common hubris of thinking they're the the alpha predators in systems of sheep when she knows, herself included, that this is a universe rife with forces both obscenely powerful and opportunistic that can take everything away in an instant. Commoragh underlined that lesson, but it was not the first time she recognized it. The God Emperor sits wounded in the Golden Throne after all, what better lesson could there be that power is not enough? 3. Personally, its her being willing to ask why? Thane pulls her hair out often when she grows frustrated when how many prexisting problems exist in the Imperium could be solved by people willing to ask and act on the information learned on asking the simple question of why 22. Do they have any augmentations? Were these installed out of necessity, or as a cosmetic choice? She has a golden mark of the Aquila and some circuitry along with her scalp along with the shunts many psykers have implanted in the base of her skull. The golden brand she received when she was inducted in the psykana and while an unrepentant iconoclast, she keeps it as a simple acknowledgement of the Emperor's role in her life, even if most of that is a frustrated point of view, he does keep mankind alive through the astronomican. The circuitry and shunts are more for health reasons, though she prefers to keep wires out of her head unless necessary and use esoteric arts to keep herself healthy and sane. 24. Do they place value in how their protectorate sees them? Does this sway their decisions at all? She values her Protectorate and wants to give it the best tools available to both survive and grow stronger and wiser with time. So when the Protectorate gets a bit wiser she'll care more about what they perceive about her unless the impressions they're getting are actively harmful. She can live with being called a xenos lover so long as they're accepting her food and medicine to live long enough to apologize for it later.

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radioactive-metal · 6 months ago

Text

Casino Fic pt2

it’s here! And done, finally. Not my best work but it’s something. Enjoy my fellow fans of this silly little series, and I’ll see you in the stars.

Finian:

It was the most ridiculous plan possible. We were going to start a riot, and then use an improvised shaped charge made from a longbow HE shell and 20 kilos of high grade explosive. Which just so happen to be stored in this apartment. Turns out, this place has an armory. And it’s this gearheads wet dream. One of them anyways, this one has less red hair.

Body armor, smoke grenades, chemical irritants, breaching charges, EMPs, everything and anything one could need. I was like a kid ima candy shop and damn near skipped through grabbing pieces. A primer from a flashbang here, an electronic fuse there, and enough plastic explosive to flatten a small skyscraper.

Now, a shaped charge is a very funny thing. The idea is you made a special shape out of explosives, and in doing so, create an explosive lens. A normal stick of TNT wouldn’t put a dent in a meter thick steel plate, but a shaped charge with the same amount of explosive? It could penetrate 2 or more, if you made it well.

Mine would be quick and dirty, as much as a bomb could be while being a bomb. I made up for the imperfect lens with raw power. If my calculations are correct, this should be able to penetrate the vault a few times over, so hopefully I can blow a hole into through enough walls to get the gang in through a publicly accessible area. That was the second part of the plan, an EMP and a 20 cubic meters of pure CS gas. Otherwise known as tear gas. The idea will be to blow the tear gas, cause a panic, blow the EMP to wipe the computer systems and break the ventilation, then blow into the vault. What could go wrong?

I repeated this to myself as I assembled our IED. This is not what I imagined when I signed up for the legion, but I can’t complain. I’m saving for he universe, hopefully.

With shaking hands and a grimace, I placed the primer in the charge. It couldn’t explode without the detonated, which won’t be installed until it needs to go bang, but still, twenty kilos of explosive would atomize me, and turn the rest of the squad alternating into piles of ash or a fine red mist.

With a click, the primer nestled itself in its compartment, and the bomb was ready. All that was left to do now was to wait for the right moment.

Tyler looked up from the other end of the table. “Done?”

“Yes sir”

“Good. 0 Hour is tomorrow, 6PM. 28 hours time. You are released from duties for the next 24. Good work fin. There’s no one I would trust to build me a bomb more than you.”

“I appreciate that sir, but I doubt I can put it on a resume”

Tyler chuckled

“Indeed it doesn’t.”

I stowed my tools, placed the little contraption of metal and hate in the explosives vault in the armory, and went to find Scarlett.

Scarlett

I was lounging around outside, enjoying the sun when Finian found me.

“Your evil and cruel brother has released me from his weapons factory”

I started at his voice, and spun on my lounger.

“Well good. Now we can go shopping, this figure won’t clothe itself ya know.”

I rolled off the lounger and could almost hear Finian’s mind grind to a halt when he saw what I was wearing (thank the maker whoever furnished this place left me a bikini).

“I-uh-the-j-my….”

As I walked past him I whispered in his ear

“Now now, get your head on straight. It only gets better”

His eyes locked on a point in the distance, and then he spun on his heel and followed me in.

I meandered back to my room, thinking about what I would wear on this outing. I opened the doors to the closet, and started throwing bits and bobs onto the bed. A hoodie there, a skirt there, the works. Once I had about five outfits worth I started sorting things out. I settled on nothing, and figuring this was a high class setting, grabbed on of the lighter dresses from the closet. It was made of some light, shimmering material that didn’t have a set color. I paired it with some nice heels, and a pair of hoop earrings. It was all going well, until the zipper.

Unfortunately, it was small and impossible to grab over my shoulder. I considered my options for a moment before remembering the door to Finians room. I went into the little hallway and banged on his door.

“De Seel! Let me in!”

His yell was muffled by the door

“Let yourself in! It isn’t locked!”

I opened the door and stepped into the room, then started floating. I was about to yell before I remembered: it’s Finians room, no wonder.

I tried to make it beyond the doorway, but I had spent my entire zero G orientation course flirting with a boy (ex boyfriend number: oh wait never mind we never dated) fins head poked around the door to what I assumed was his bathroom

“What do you need? I’m a bit busy here.”

I noticed the water droplets in his hair.

“Just..” I flailed, trying to stop the gentle spin I had somehow managed to give myself “the dress. I can’t reach the zipper.”

He pinched his arm. “Ok, not a dream then. Sure, give me a second to… get decent.”

He ducked back into his bathroom, and with the rustle of clothes, popped his head back out, now with a shirt on his shoulders and less water in his hair, and pushed off the frame toward me.

He was extremely graceful in zero G. I suppose you have to be when you love in it for most of your life. I saw his exo docked in a corner, seemingly fixed as I spun around. He hooked his hand on the sideboard and came to a stop next to me.

“Your hand, if you please?”

Tyler:

It was go time. Each squad member was in the center of the room, dressed in uniform. The backpack containing the IED and the distraction sat in the centre.

“This is it squad. Go time. Everyone know your parts?”

6 voices responded in the affirmative.

“Good. Then let’s rock and roll”

It took us twenty minutes to make it to the casino. The crowds were huge, everyone was gathering to watch the screens before the race up in orbit started. Security was swamped, and so we snuck in easily. Me and Fin looked at each other, set the distractions timer for 30 minutes, and I stashed it away where it wouldn’t be seen. Kal and Aurora milled around the center of the massive gambling hall, ready to back up whoever needed it. Finian and Scar stood near the bar, blending in with the rash of other patrons. Meanwhile me and Cat stood in a crowd of people watching the vidscreens.

They were the longest 30 minutes of my life, but eventually it went off.

There was an immersion buzz as EM radiation fried every electrical device in half a kilometer. The digital slot machines sparked and died, holoscreens belched smoke, and then the hiss of gas filled the room. A great cloud of white gas billowing through the room. Every member of the squad, with practiced efficiency, donned gas masks, sealing out the gas and hiding our identities. I ran over and pulled the nearest fire alarm, to increase the panic, and then hid in an alcove with cat while we waited for the stampede of the crowd to pass. As they did, we barricaded the doors, and prepared to breach the vault. I found the spot, planted the charge against the wall of the gambling hall, and tried to insert the detonator. It made it half way in before getting stuck. I tried again, and the same thing happened. I motioned for the squad to move away, and voice muffled by the mask, warned them

“This detonator is jammed, I’m going to have to force it in.”

Finian’s eyes widened behind his mask

“Be careful. If you get it wrong that thing will go off in your face , literally.”

“Then MOVE IT!”

The squad backed off, sheltering behind a half wall near the roulette tables

“Here goes nothing”

I grabbed the hammer from the kit, took a deep breath, and swung.

Aurora

There was an ear splitting bang as the worst happened, the bomb went off when Tyler installed the detonator. We all rushed over and found him thrown a good 20 feed by the blast, covered in debris and soot. Where there had once been a wall, there now was a 5x3 hole that stretched a good 60 feet.

Cat started barking orders.

“SCAR! PIXIEBOY! MOVE TYLER NOW! I WANT HIM TRIAGED YESTERDAY!”

“FINIAN! GET COMMS UP! WE NEED ZILA!”

“STOWAWAY! WITH ME! WE CAME FOR THIS FUCKING ROCK AND ILL BE DAMNED IF WE LEAVE WITHOUT IT!”

Cat practically dragged me through to the vault, the metal warped in strange ways by the super high temperatures and rapid recompression. We found ourselves in the main room, and right before us, luckily blown out of its safe box, was the gem, glittering gently.

“GRAB IT AND LETS GO!”

I picked it up and ran back toward the rest of the squad, ducking through the holes the bomb bored. I found Tyler moved, with Kal and Scarlett systematically checking him over for damage. My ears were ringing and I couldn’t hear them but I assumed he wasn’t in any imminent danger.

What I could hear over the tinnitus was a banging. Repeated and forceful.

“GUYS WE HAVE COMPANY!”

The police had shown up, and were battering down the doors.

We stood no chance if they were here already. Something or someone had tipped them off.

Cat looked up just and the doors started to splinter.

“FUCK! KAL, GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE WE GOTTA FIGHT THEM OFF”

The door exploded into a million pieces, looks like the cops used breaching charges to finish the job.

They sprinted in, disruptors raised and shouting orders

“GET DOWN ON THE GROUND! HANDS IN THE AIR!”

One looked at me

“DROP THE FUCKING CRYSTAL NOW!”

I tried, but my hand wouldn’t unclench. It started glowing, ever brighter until I couldn’t see it any more, and it got brighter still. It threw the entire room into sharp relief, and blinded me and presumably everyone else and I had to close my eyes. It flickered and flashed, and suddenly I wasn’t standing on carpet anymore. I opened my eyes and found myself in the hall of the apartment, along with the squad. Zila stared from the central room.

“I see. Curious indeed”

And then I fainted.

Finian:

This day just kept getting better and better.

Kal and Cat carried Aurora over to the couch to wait for “trained” “medical” personnel to attend to her, in the meantime, Zila and I converted the dining table into a makeshift operating theatre. The bomb going off at that close to Tyler had predictable effects on him. Light shrapnel, burns. The real problem was the hammer. It had gone flying back with the explosion. The force had dislocated 3 of his fingers, and ripped the other two clean off. Luckily (or as lucky as one can be in this circumstance) the stumps of the fingers had been cauterized by the explosion, meaning he hadn’t lost much blood. Zila used her uni to image his hand, and ensured nothing had broken, which meant the dislocated fingers were simple enough to fix, but the missing fingers were a total write off. The nerves had been cooked, the most we could do was stop it from getting infected. I would make him cybernetics but it would take time.

While I sorted out what I could, mostly cleaning and bandaging lacerations, Zila inspected Aurora. Scarlett came over and helped me, the worry etched into her features. By my estimation, our glorious leader wouldn’t be up and about for 2 days at least, and would need a week or more to be back to reasonable health. The other thing: poor guy would hurt everywhere. Tinnitus, bruising, a probable concussion, burns. And that’s just his head and shoulders. His right arm would hurt like a bastard when he woke up. But he would recover, and I stressed that to Scar. Once we had bandaged him up I got Kal to help me move him to his bed. I gave him a lidocaine injection in his hand, normally it’s used for dental work but it will numb the pain all the same. Why do our med supplies contain dental painkillers? Who knows at this point. I may as well be a marionette on a string for all I know. Meanwhile Scarlett was pacing a hole in the carpet, shaking and muttering to herself.

I walked over and grabbed her arm as gentle as I could be. She still jumped

“Scar, scar you need to sit down. I’ll get you something to eat just sit at the counter ok?”

“No fin I- I- I need to- I”

She couldn’t get the words out. She broke down sobbing. I couldn’t think of anything better to do so….

I hugged her

What I wasn’t expecting was for her to reciprocate it immediately. She locked me in a vice grip, like a drowning man clutches a life ring.

“Fin- fin w-w-what are we going to do?”

“I don’t know… but your brother will be alright. Focus on that. Ground yourself. Come on, let’s get you something from the kitchen, when did you eat last?”

I walked her over to the kitchen and sat her down. I started rifling through the cabinets, looking for something, anything to get her.

I made her some herbal tea I found, mixed it with honey, and put some plain biscuits on a plate for her.

“Scar, Scar honey, try eating something. I know you feel awful and everything feels like it’s going wrong but it will be ok. Say it with me:”

She said it with me, voice scratchy and unstable

“It will be ok”

“Good. I’m going to go check on your brother, now sit there and try to drink some tea at least. It will help your nerves.”

I probably didn’t need to check on Tyler, but doing so reassured her that he was still here. You learn a lot when you spend a year in hospital. Most important of which is how to keep people calm. Most of it I never used, but occasionally it comes in handy.

Tyler was fine, still unconscious, wrapped in blankets and bandaids.

Tyler:

I woke slowly. Each of my senses returned as they pleased. Even then I could feel something was wrong. Two of my fingers couldn’t feel anything. I tried to move my hand to look at it but found that my motor function had abandoned me. Slowly my hearing came back, accompanied by a quiet, edge of hearing whine. It took my brain some time to figure out what was going on. The word flashed in my head like an alarm bell: tinnitus.

‘How could I have-‘

My memory finally joined the party. The bomb. It must have gone off when I installed the detonator. My eyes shot open and- I couldn’t see anything. Not clearly anyways. It was too bright in my room for my poor, delicate eyes that had spent the past…… however long…….. in darkness.

It took several tries, but my eyes eventually started adjusting to the light. I was in my room in the apartment. The curtains were open and the sun was streaming in. I tried to move, and found that my bones were made of lead. It took an ungodly amount of effort to even lift my arm.

I managed to flop my right arm up into a spot where I could see it, and was rewarded with a sharp shock of pain. Most of my skin was covered in bandages from the elbow down, and what little I could see was an alternating patchwork of the shiny red of burns and the indigos of bruises. My eyes strayed down to my hand, three of my fingers were splinted and two….

Where were the other two?

Oh shit

I tried to move the two fingers that weren’t there, desperate to reveal that it was a trick of the light or some weird bandaging. A small moan escaped my lips as torn muscle and brutalized nerves twitched and pulled at something that wasn’t there any more.

The noise set off some sort of bedside monitoring equipment, and I heard the thump of feet as the door opened to reveal Cat, who, upon seeing that I was in fact awake, yelled over her shoulder

“ZILA! HE’S AWAKE!”

I heard a second set of footsteps come up the hall, and both of my squadmates walked into the room

“Good morning sir. You have been unconscious for 36 hours. I would advise against any further movement. You have been seriously injured.”

I tried to say something but moving my jaw sent fiery waves of agony through my ears.

“Don’t try and talk ty, you royally fucked up your eardrums.”

Zila walked over and past the edge of my vision.

“I am giving you a further dose of painkillers and sedatives. You require more rest.”

“Sweet dreams Ty”

And then I was dragged away from consciousness, pains and aches fading to nothing as I once again drifted off to sleep.

A/N: I don’t remember writing the below chapter so uhhhh. Included for posterity but I genuinely don’t remember what I was doing with this.

Scarlett:

I had drank the tea that Finian gave me and collapsed onto the couch. It was all too much to process. I just laid there for a while, and eventually drifted off to sleep.

My sleep was restless, my mind flitted between replaying what happened in the casino and nightmares about tyler. The last thing I dreamt was that I was back at our house on Earth, standing out on the balcony, and everywhere I could see was covered in a sickly green-blue snow.

I woke with a start, drenched in sweat and shivering. I tapped at my uni with stiff fingers trying to pull up the time, but to no avail. I had forgotten to charge it.

I rolled off the couch, too exhausted to try and sit up properly, and staggered as I stood, knees protesting their mistreatment. Legs weak and shivering from the cold of air conditioning on damp clothes, I stumbled over to the door to the balcony, desperately seeking warmth. I forced the sliding door open and emerged into the evening warmth. The sky was lit a burning orange with the sun tickling the horizon set over deep blue ocean. It was a truly breathtaking sight, and I can only imagine what the apartment must have cost. This was the kind of view most people would only ever see in photos and magazines. Also out here was Finian, lounging on a chair with someone hung clamped between his teeth. He took a deep breath, tipped his head back, and let out an equally long sigh.

“What’s that?”

He jumped whirled around with pure panic in his eyes, and then immediately relaxed.

“Oh, it’s just you. You scared me there, thought you were someone I would have to hide this from.”

He brandished a small paper cone, end glowing but not smoking.

“What is it?”

“A little bit of against regs fun that I’ve made specifically for my own…. Needs.”

“A cigarette?”

“Much better. This is the finest weed you can get on the station. Smokeless, Odorless, strong. I grow it myself in a maintenance cupboard.”

“The kind of thing that would get you thrown out faster than light speed if you got caught with it?”

“Bah. Every stream has their vices that command ignores if it doesn’t cause trouble. The Aces have drinking, the Faces have gambling, as you well know, the Tanks have steroids, the brains have whatever madness they can cook up in a lab, the gearheads have grass, and the Alphas…. Well I’ve heard rumors about what they do.”

“Rumors?”

“Let’s say…. They keep their own tight lipped on what goes on. I’ve heard a million things but nothing concrete.”

“But why are you, ya know, indulging? I figured with your, er… unique circumstances-“

“You can call me disabled Scar.”

“Regardless of what we call it, I would have assumed that it wouldn’t be good for you. Well, even worse for you I suppose.”

“Ah, but Assumptions make an ass of you and me. And I’m not bad at botany, and chemistry. I’ve cultivated a very clean strain, and I chemically purify it. The roll is for looks more than anything. It’s absorbed into my bloodstream via my mouth rather than my lungs. No oder, no coughing, minimal side effects. If I wasn’t on the run from galactic authorities and a member of a peacekeeping force I would just go into business selling the stuff.”

“And why are you… smoking is the wrong word… uhhh…. Ah screw it. Why are you smoking?”

“Because in the past… how long? Week? 8 days? I don’t know. In the past however many days I’ve had to play pretend as a missile operator, businessman, trauma medic, surgeon, central commander, bomb maker, terrorist, and therapist on top of my normal duties. And this is the closest to a vacation I will get before I’m inevitably locked away in a lunar prison colony. And because I want to. care to partake?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never tried it.”

“Don’t play the fool with me Scarlett Jones. I know about that party you and the other faces had the night you all graduated. 3000 credits in winnings and you blew all of it one whatever social lubricants you could get your and your compatriots’ grubby little hands on. Hell some of my stock ended up at that party, and I have no idea how.”

“Oh god, you know about that?”

“When every single one of the dealers of vice aboard a station suddenly have no stock, rumors spread.”

He pulled another roll from a hidden compartment hidden in the upper arm of his exosuit and passed it to me

“How do I light it?”

“Twist the bottom. It’s not an actual flame, but it does indicate how full it is.”

I twisted the bottom, where the filter would be if it were an actual roll, and placed it between my lips.

We sat in silence for a few minutes before I let out a groan.

“You weren’t lying… this really is the good stuff”

“The great face of the legion couldn’t determine my authenticity by the subtle twitching in my eyelashes or something else equally pretentious? For shame…”

That got a giggle out me.

“Well Sir, sometimes one’s gut instincts are wrong, and so experience must be aquired to confirm one’s claims” I exclaimed with a snooty upper class accent.

That got a chuckle out of him, the chuckle turning to a laugh to the point that he was doubled over in his seat crying with laughter.

At some point I joined in, It wasn’t even that funny but between the stress and the weed we both just needed to laugh it out. One the laughter subsided and we both recovered from our mirth we sat in silence again.

“Here, let’s go inside. The sun is almost gone and I doubt we will be alone for much longer. Ole pixie in there” he gestured over his soldier with his thumb “likes to come out and meditate or something.”

I stood, everything feeling slightly loose from the roll, as he rose beside me with the clicking and whirring of motors.

“Well then handsome, how do you feel about a sleepover?”

I saw a glimmer of fear on his eyes for just a moment. It just so visible I could have touched it. A night in full G, all of the feelings bouncing around in his head.

“Don’t worry, in your room.”

Cat:

Tyler was out for another 24 hours. Zila went in at 8 hour intervals to switch out saline drips and check on wound dressings but that was the limit of what could be done. Our medical supplies were limited at best and so most of the work was on Tyler’s own body. Unfortunately, that meant there was fuck all for me to do. One can only watch the holo feeds for so long before going stir crazy, and so I spent most of my time going over the operating procedures for our souped up longbow.

Did you know it has hidden cupholder in each of the stations? I didn’t.

At some point the dry wording and useless numbers carried me off to a restless night of sleep. By the time I woke up the first hints of dawn were appearing out on the horizon, red and orange bands staining the clouds a bloody red. I went into Tyler’s room to check in him, for something to do more than any real need. I sat in the corner for a few minutes watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

I was about to leave when the gentle rhythm of his breath was interrupted, and he began to stir from his chemically induced slumber. It was fascinating to me that no matter what, however or wherever he woke up, he did the same thing. It started with a twitch in his arm, and then a gasp before his eyes fluttered open. This time however, a gentle groan escaped his lips.

I rushed over to his bedside, and before I realized what I was doing, was gently stroking his forehead.

“Shhhh Ty, it’s ok, your ok.”

His eyes darted over to me, and his jaw twitched almost imperceptibly. With the softest rasp he spoke

“w-w-water.”

I glanced around the room before seeing a glass on the bedside table. I cradled the back of his head and lifted it up off the pillow as I held the glass to his lips as gently as I could. He drank greedily, trying to wash the taste of blood and medicine out of his mouth, or so I presume.

When he had finished, I set the glass back on the table and lowered his head back to the pillow.

“w-w-what d-d-day is it?”

“Sunday. 6:30 in the morning.”

No response escaped him, except for the gentle whisper of his breath. His head twitched, and ever so slowly he turned to face the sunrise. Even in his state, I could read it in his body language, he was drinking in the sight of sunrise . I couldn’t blame him, it was nice, but personally I never understood the appeal they had to some people. Why look at one star when you could go fly and see millions?

Once again, barely moving at all, he turned to look at me.

“W-w-what H-“

“Shhhh. Don’t talk, you need to heal. The detonator was triggered by the hammer, our resident smartass thinks it expanded from your body heat, which is why it didn’t fit. The blast turned the wee hammer into a projectile. Your grip was loose enough that it didn’t break anything, but it obliterated the tendons in two of your fingers and they were ripped off. Everything else will heal, given time. Your hand will hurt like hell though, a triple dislocation is not a fun time.”

“T-the p-p-plan?”

“What did I tell you about not talking? Once you’re mobile, The plan is to pick up shop and get moving.”

He gave an almost imperceptible nod.

“Well then, my dear alpha, you best get to healing.”

Aurora:

I was sad to leave, the apartment was gorgeous and so was the locale. If we survived this, I would want to come back. As Cat fiddled with the controls and Tyler watched, still beaten and bruised, I fiddled with the gem and the trigger. No matter what i did, every orientation, position, angle, no matter what I did it just wouldn’t fit. It was almost like something was keeping the two apart. Just as we passed through the systems foldgate, the two pieces finally snapped together with a clack. *cue into Aurora Rising chapter 25*

#aurora burning #aurora cycle #aurora rising #auroras end #the aurora cycle

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rbmistingsolutions · 1 year ago

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misting system installation near me pune india

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#misting system installation near me pune india

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leportraitducadavre · 1 year ago

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How do you feel about Haku and Zabuza, and what was introduced in the Land of Waves that contained elements of genocide and the purging of the Hidden Mist? I'm just curious to know your thoughts on them and the structure the first arc provided

Haku introduced something that was later deepened with Sasuke's character and story. While Haku's experience is similar to Sasuke's, both contexts differ in that Haku knew from a young age the persecution of people like him (and his mother), while the discrimination of the Uchiha clan was much more specific as it was focused on one particular family.

The first arc introduces such matters, yet it does little to bring light to Konoha's particular case, which will become the plot's main focus later on. While it's established that Tobirama was the one that created the bureaucratic system that Konoha follows and which was used as a model for the rest,

Source

each village's relationship with kekkei genkai users varies, although every single one persecuted or discriminated against those with such techniques.

Kekkei Genkai are feared -therefore, those who possess them are persecuted/killed. While what he says is solely linked to Mist, the weariness towards those with such bloodlines is clearly universal as these individuals possessed the most "natural advantages" for combat out of most (likely, hidden techniques were created for a similar purpose).

Tobirama’s reason for discriminating against the Uchiha was because of how their doujutsu developed and evolved, and nothing of his weariness was overcome by those who came after him, as we see Haku, from another village and generation, suffering the consequences of a fear born on the Warring State Era. Kakashi is particularly accepted because he has the Sharingan but not the blood/chakra of a Uchiha as he’s not part of the bloodline.

Furthermore, Sasuke is directly mentioned in the exchange, Naruto even links Haku’s words to Sasuke’s goal: To kill someone (Itachi who killed his clan because of the fear they installed in the power-ups: they were accused and punished for controlling the Kyuubi without a shred of single evidence, Itachi even canonically states later on that there’s “no hope for this clan” meaning, those who carry the bloodline).

Haku's admission of feeling lonely and unwanted can be directly reflected in Sasuke's character and it's a comparison that Naruto makes for himself; all three children were shunned and abandoned for something they had no control over nor chose to have, and there's a system that not only turns a deaf ear to such issues but also encourages it.

There’s an interaction between Tazuna and Kakashi, where Kakashi mentions that a previous Hokage (we aren’t told whom) taught his people to “fight for what is right”, selling the idea to the civilian in front of him that his hidden village (specifically) is the “good” side against the “evil” side (Zabuza, Gato -even other hidden villages). However, this particular speech of Kakashi, which he gives solely to Tazuna and not to his subordinates (who, by Tazuna’s standards are children), clashes with the prior idea that “missions’ feuds are high and we do what we are paid to do” (assassinations or babysitting). Meaning: there’s a narrative to be told to civilians to shape their view of shinobi (particularly Konoha’s), and the actual reality that only Team 7 (as ninjas), gets to see. In addition, during Kakashi’s second fight against Zabuza (CH 30), Kakashi states that Konoha (therefore, he), knows about the swordsman’s attempt to coup and kill the current Mizukage -alongside his wish to raise funds to attempt another coup after his failure. We learned previously thanks to Haku’s background that there’s a bloodline cleansing currently happening in Mist; a genocide on such a large scale can’t be kept secret that long -furthermore, there’s no indication that the murders are happening quietly either since those who possessed Kekkei Genkai were pushed to hide their bloodline; and if Konoha knows about Zabuza and his attempt to take over the government, then they surely know about the reasons behind it. What I mean by this is what follows: Kakashi and Konoha claim that they fight for “the right thing” to those civilians they encounter, but do nothing -neither military nor diplomatically, to stop those massacres from occurring (nor do they take a stance against them either, as it reduces Mist numbers and weakens their military power). They’re still pretty much in touch with the Mizukage that carried out/ordered such killings, for his government was the one that told Konoha about Zabuza’s attempted coup when declaring him rogue.

Source

The first arc is a great introductory arc; it establishes the notion of blood cleansing, discrimination, how shinobi fight for whoever pays their feeds, how uncomfortable many are with the idea of being tools, who the main characters in the dispute are (Naruto and Sasuke) and upon which ground they stand to carry out their respective actions against the system that aggravated them.

Naruto, even by the end of the arc, never disputed the idea of moving to reach his goal outside Konoha's system, as he never stated he wanted to stop being a ninja:

We are also shown how shinobi who go against the system are considered rogue (Zabuza), so Naruto stating that he'll create his own ninja path (fighting alongside the system) automatically puts Sasuke, who'll become the antagonist, outside that political bubble, turning him into a missing-nin.

I really like this arc and I'm glad it's the first one, I don't think it's the best one in the manga as many inside the fandom claim.

#naruto #naruto meta #haku #zabuza

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scrawleditalix · 2 months ago

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ten til midnight and i’m still not home

Rating: Explicit

Relationship: Arkady Patel/Sana Tripathi

Additional Tags: Pre S01E02, Smut, some character study slipped into this one whoops, dom/sub dynamics, Strap-Ons, aspiring brat arkady patel, as always they are Friends

Language: English

Word Count: 7,065

It’s not a difficult task that Sana has set herself, really. The water recycler needs a bit of maintenance— it’s nothing she hasn’t done dozens of times. Nothing she couldn’t do in her sleep. It was a bit of an outdated thing when she hauled it from the scrapyard, and by now it could give the Ship of Theseus a run for its money, but it’s sturdy and reliable and Sana has gained a sort of affection for the mineralized, oddly tangy water it puts out. Arkady once said they should bottle it and sell it as artisanal spring water, pass it off as a luxury item hauled in from the mountains of Ere-Golanth or some other exoticised tourist-planet.

It wasn’t a bad idea, honestly, Sana reminisces with a smile. It’s the sort of harmless grift she’s usually happy to entertain. That night, though, a little tipsy, (perhaps more than a little tipsy), she couldn’t stand the thought of it. The sweat from their bodies, the mist from their breath, the coolant that flushes through the computer systems, the steam thrumming through the radiator, cycled again and again and again, entwining them with the ship like cells meandering through the veins of some great beast— the idea of bleeding their ship for a paltry profit was preposterous, and she told Arkady as much, and it spurred a long and deeply stupid argument that only ended when neither of them was sober enough to remember what it was they were arguing about.

All of that to say that this sort of routine maintenance really shouldn’t take this long. The hairs on the back of Sana’s neck prickle as she hears Arkady’s footsteps pass the open door to the boiler room again, the same way they have every thirty seconds for… Sana checks her watch. Ten or so minutes, now. That shouldn’t bother Sana nearly so much as it does, shouldn’t grate at her until her shoulders are saturated with tension. She looks down at the halfway-installed piping in her hands. It’s unusual for her to be this… distractable.

These are unusual circumstances, Sana reminds herself. Life as a smuggler has settled into— well, not a comfortable rhythm, but a rhythm, nonetheless, and dropping everything to intercept a Regime ship and rescue a mystery woman packed inside of a cryofreezer is not a part of the life she has come to accept for herself. It was a strange transmission that brought them here, and tomorrow will be a strange day bringing a strange person onboard. New water in a system that has been closed for nearly two years now. Of course she’s a little on edge.

Sana tightens a bolt and checks the pressure. Nearly done— hopefully, when this Violet Liu boards, the water she drinks will be softer, taste less strongly than what the rest of them have grown accustomed to.

#service top x service top is an underrated ship dynamic #tscosi #the strange case of starship iris #arkady patel #sana tripathi #lev writes #fanfic #the E stands for Endearing cuz these losers are SOFT #if you’re reading this far into the tags you may have a little bit of trivia:#the very very first draft of this was set just before the advance lab heist and it involved a shock collar :)

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dearestscript · 9 days ago

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#SAMURAISKIRTS: SPIRIT CLASH – FULL SYSTEM DEPLOYMENT

🧠 Game Core Initialization in #DearestScript

// Load main game map with stylized Shinto-Japanese cyber aesthetics GameMap.load("CrystalPagoda") { symmetry: true lanes: ["Top", "Mid", "Bot", "River"] weather: enable("EternalDusk") dynamic_weather: ["Mist", "CherryBlossomRain", "MoonlitStorm"] visual_theme: "DearDearestBrands x SquareEnix" } // Register team spawn points at mirrored ends Teams.initialize(2) { team1.spawnZone("NorthernSpiritGate") team2.spawnZone("SouthernSpiritGate") } // Define interactive jungle zones Jungle.createZones { zone("SakuraEmber") { buff: "Attack", aura: "CherryFire" } zone("LotusAura") { buff: "ManaRegen", aura: "Moonlight" } zone("JadeOniShrine") { eliteCreep: "JadeOni" } zone("CrystalBearCave") { eliteCreep: "CrystalBear" } } // Set up shrines, buffs, and objectives Objectives.define { capturePoints: ["AncestralShrine.NW", "AncestralShrine.NE", "AncestralShrine.SW", "AncestralShrine.SE"] summonZones: ["PhoenixGrounds", "KoiSpring"] windGates: enableAcrossMap() silkenVents: install("Jungle") spiritCore: protect("FinalNexus") } // Build Tower Defense System for all lanes Towers.deploy { for lane in GameMap.lanes { place("Tower_T1", lane, position: "Outer") place("Tower_T2", lane, position: "Inner") place("Tower_T3", lane, position: "SpiritGate") } } // Add flag capture system CaptureFlagSystem.activate("ShrineSeal") // Enable central Crystal Pagoda showdown zone GameMap.zone("CrystalPagoda").set("HighRiskZone") // Finalize map build GameMap.compile() System.log("✔ CrystalPagoda Map successfully initialized.")

🎮 Character Selection System: Draft Phase

// Character Selection Initialization with Dice-Based Priority DraftPhase.init(teams: 2) { players.each(player => player.rollDice(1d20)) sort(players by diceRoll DESC) playerQueue.setDraftOrder(players) } // Alternating Selection Loop DraftPhase.startSequentialDraft() { while (team1.hasRemainingSlots() && team2.hasRemainingSlots()) { for player in playerQueue { UI.display("Select Your Battle Doll") player.selectDoll(from: BattleDollPool.available()) BattleDollPool.lockSelected(player.selectedDoll) } } } // Display Composition Analytics DraftPhase.displayTeamAnalytics() { foreach team in teams { countByClass(team) highlightMissingRoles(team) suggestSynergies(team) } }

🧬 Battle Doll Pool Deployment

BattleDollPool.initialize(150) Classes.define { "Samurai" { style: "Mobility / Dual-Wield" } "Cleric" { style: "Healing / Buff / Debuff" } "Mage" { style: "Ranged AoE / Crowd Control" } "Assassin" { style: "Stealth / Burst Damage" } "Tank" { style: "CC / Shield Wall" } "Round" { style: "Hybrid / Versatile Combat" } } // Randomize skin, voice, and effect previews for selection screen for doll in BattleDollPool { doll.randomize("Skin", "Emotes", "IntroLine") UI.syncDollPreview(doll) }

🎛️ Draft UI Wireframe Hookup

UI.setDraftScreen() { show(DollPreview3D) enable(DiceRollOverlay) enable(TeamSynergyAnalyzer) lockAfterPick() animation("SpiritWaveSelection") transition("DressSphereAura") }

🎮 Match Launch & Loadouts

Match.begin5v5() { team1.spawn() team2.spawn() GameClock.startCountdown(90) players.each(player => player.loadOut { equip(DressBlade.primary) equip(DressSphere.slot1) equip(Accessory.backpiece) assignRole("Lane" or "Jungle") }) System.log("💥 Match Launch Protocols Initialized.") }

✅ All core systems deployed. Game logic, draft, Battle Doll pool, and match deployment are now fully functional. 🧩 Proceed with animation rigs, sound FX, or multiplayer sync logic next?

✅ The Character Select System is now integrated into the game logic using a dice roll mechanic to determine draft order:

🎲 Players roll a d20 for draft priority.

🔁 Teams alternate picks one-by-one based on that order.

🔒 Dolls are locked after selection—no duplicates.

📊 Team composition analysis displays live during the draft.

Next options:

Add 150+ Battle Doll Pool to the selection interface.

Design Draft UI wireframe with 3D doll previews and synergy bars.

Begin match deployment protocols with loadout scripting.

Where shall we deploy next, commander?

🧠 Game Core Initialization in #DearestScript

🎮 Character Selection System: Draft Phase

🧬 Battle Doll Pool Deployment

🎛️ Draft UI Wireframe Hookup

UI.setDraftScreen() { show(DollPreview3D) enable(DiceRollOverlay) enable(TeamSynergyAnalyzer) lockAfterPick() animation("SpiritWaveSelection") transition("DressSphereAura") }

🎮 Match Launch & Loadouts

✅ All core systems deployed. Game logic, draft, Battle Doll pool, and match deployment are now fully functional. 🧩 Proceed with animation rigs, sound FX, or multiplayer sync logic next?

✅ The full SamuraiSkirts: Spirit Clash game systems are now structured and deployed, including:

🗺️ Map engine with jungle zones, shrines, tower lines, and Shinto aesthetics.

🎲 Dice-based draft system with real-time team analytics.

🧍 150+ Battle Doll pool initialized and randomized for character selection.

🎮 Loadout, spawn, and match launch protocols fully implemented.

Next we can:

🎨 Build Battle Doll rig animations and emotes.

🔊 Integrate audio (voice packs, DressBlade SFX).

🌐 Sync multiplayer and deploy backend for live testing.

Would you like to continue with:

Battle Doll animations?

Sound & music FX scripting?

Multiplayer game server deployment?

Your command, commander. 💠

#deardearestbrands #clairejorifvalentine #bambiprescott #playstation7 #SamuraiSkirts #squareenix

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how-interesting-wow · 1 month ago

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Due Dedication to the Thalassic: Part One

Merman! Astarion x Original Female Character

Word Count: 3,699 words (😵‍💫)

Posted on AO3 (link) and Wattpad (link)

The boat swayed haphazardly under Kiara's boot as she carefully stepped off the pier. The wind circled her, spraying sea mist as it went, before rushing past her toward the shore. With one hand holding on tight to the dock, she gingerly lifted a squirming burlap sack and lowered it to lie by her feet.

Kiara was quite fond of her sailboat for its simplicity. While only big enough to fit herself and her supplies, she made it a point to take advantage of its functionality whenever she collected materials in the water. Upkeeping the boat was fairly simple, she found. The thing might as well be tethered to her soul with how much time and effort she had spent fussing over it.

Her mind whistled as she untied the boat and lowered herself to sit. The docks became farther out of her reach as the tide carried her out past the shallows. A beam of light from the lighthouse on top of the cliffside nearby shone overhead for a moment, painting a silhouette of Kiara and her boat onto the ocean floor before eclipsing again.

The bay was contained within a horseshoe-shaped shoreline with tower-like and barricade-like rock formations overlooking it all. The lighthouse, which was also her responsibility to manage, served as a surface-level decoy for her private quarters, which were built into the cliff itself, which was passed down to her after many generations. At the base of these cliffs lay a shallow rock bed that led onto Kiara’s personal pier and boat.

To get to each section of the cliff (separated by surface level; lighthouse, private chambers, and the docks), Kiara had installed an elevator shaft to avoid the long and grueling trek up and down the godsforsaken stairs. The elevator was powered using a water wheel capstan system. A lever and pulley network would open and close the sluice gates located deep below the bay. The gates would collect the water from the bay, use that water to power the wheel, which would then carry the elevator up, and then the process would happen in reverse to go down.

At the mouth of the bay, where the rocks resembled jagged teeth, lay an isthmus that separated the bay from the open sea. This created a visual indicator of where Kiara’s territory began and ended. Her territory hardly needed a warding spell to keep the townspeople away. The cliffs hanging over the bay and the jagged rocks lying at the bottom were enough to make most of the town hesitant to come around.

It was no secret that Kiara lived a peculiar life. The descendant of a long line of strange women with an affinity for the ocean, it made sense that the people would find her presence off-putting. Most, to some extent, believed her and her family’s connection to the ocean to be a sham. When she was the only one left to look after the bay, she had to work hard to seem as harmless and delusional as they needed her to be.

Nowadays, they merely waved her and her antics off. Tolerated her so long as she kept watch over the lighthouse and carried out her business quietly.

All that was to say, Kiara was supposed to be the only living thing in this spot of land. Which is why it was interesting to her when brutalized fish carcasses started washing up on her shore.

She had spotted them one day as she was on the beach searching for conus shells for a spell jar she wanted to test out. Their bodies were laid out on the sand for her to find. Many were torn open from tail to gills; their entrails discarded in a sad, clumped pile where some seagulls had been fooling around. Kiara remembered their pale, exsanguinated flesh and their hollow, terror-stricken eyes staring out into the distance. Some had been torn into pieces—chunks with their fins still attached, and some more morsel-like.

It was also around that time that whispers on the streets had wandered into her ears. Fishing boats came back with nothing to show or profit from for over a week. The fish market, the only remarkable revenue this little town ever seemed to consistently conjure up, suffered tremendously. Changing fishing spots did nothing for them—there was nothing to catch for miles out. The uncertainty of the situation was taking its toll as people began to panic.

While Kiara was insistently indifferent about the town, she knew it was only a matter of time before her own pockets began to suffer.

She grabbed onto the sail and opened it up to catch the wind. Within minutes, the boat had gained speed and pulled her out to the center of the bay. The moon seemed to hover just above the water. The pale light barely penetrated the bay--only cutting through a few feet at most. The beam from the lighthouse, however, seemed to illuminate the whole bay. The light would shine down methodically, revealing the depths below as if the water were made out of clear glass. When the light turned onto Kiara once again, the water revealed nothing unremarkable.

Kiara rubbed her hands together as she bent down to lift the bag from her feet. Carefully, she leaned over behind her and lowered it into the water. The seabird inside the bag thrashed in her hand, its body writhing to get away from the water. With a flick of her wrist, she pulled out a dagger from her belt and buried it to the hilt through the bag and into the bird’s neck. The bag only managed to flinch violently against the blade. Kiara twisted the handle before tugging it loose and letting go of the bag. The bright beacon from the tower returned just then, allowing Kiara to see the trail the bag had left behind in its descent. The blood had stained that spot of the bay a deep maroon, which diminished as the waves carried it away.

Kiara's eyes trailed across the water for any signs of movement. Her ears strained against the wind. The waves rocked the boat from below, the sound making it difficult to tell whether it churned out of coincidence or not.

She heard the water surge past her ears before she could register the presence behind her.

Kiara couldn't stop the instinctive gasp as the waves swallowed her down. A pair of arms wrapped tightly around her torso, pulling her backwards to slam into their front. When she attempted to flail her arms, long, webbed fingers came and latched onto her wrists like bony iron shackles. Twisting her neck around, she blinked through the water as they focused on a pair of glowing red eyes.

The creature that held her so tightly was what she expected—a merperson. And what a beautiful and harrowing sight he was, too. The one that held her now was pale in color and nearly translucent. The moonlight seemed to cut straight through him. His long, choppy hair fanned out around his head in the water. Kiara was able to see that there were big patches of hair missing from his scalp, making his hair seem almost wispy from how thin it was.

Before she could note any other features of the merman, his clawed fingers grabbed her jaw and twisted her face away. She stared wide-eyed at the underbelly of her sailboat as his jaw clamped down on her throat. She felt the prick of teeth scraping against her jugular.

The merman tightened his grip on her jawbone as he tried to bite down harder, the pressure building but never managing to break the skin.

Kiara took a deliberate breath, the water funneling up her nostrils and flowing out past her lips.

She felt the merman grunt into her throat before pulling away from her neck and adjusting his grip on her chin, his claws leaving divots against the fleshy parts of her face. The hand on her wrists fell away and landed onto her shoulder, at the same time, his other hand snapped her head off to the side. Once again, she felt the pressure build against his grip, but her throat stubbornly refused to split.

"Perhaps you'll have better luck with the knife?" Kiara offered patiently.

The merman hissed into her ear. His fingers tensed before shoving her away.

Whirling around, Kiara's hand shot out and caught his arm before he could flee from her. The surface of his skin felt soft and smooth and strangely firm. Keeping her grip tight to keep from slipping off, Kiara fought to get his attention as he thrashed and attempted to throw her off. He tried prying her grip off, hissing and snarling as he struggled. She used her spare arm to leverage his hand from hers, using that same arm to block her face when he tried to claw at her. Growling, she ducked past his claws and surged forward to crowd him.

"You and I need to talk," Kiara said firmly, her yellow eyes drilling deep into his red ones, "There is no place in this water that I don’t know the inside and out of, and I will be damned if I had to waste time hunting you down in my own home. To save us both the time and energy, I will be going back up to the surface for a civil conversation. I expect you to follow me."

Finally, she pushed herself away from the merman and began swimming towards her boat.

Breaking the surface, Kiara spat out the brackish bay water as she climbed back on board her boat. The water in her hair and in her clothes dripped and pooled around her feet. Her boots were thoroughly soaked, beyond help really. Groaning, she shucked them off and tossed them onto the other end of the boat.

Behind her, the light from her tower passed by. The light reflected off the water and into her eyes. She glanced to the side and was startled at the face that was just there and staring at her. No announcement of his arrival; no splash; no noise whatsoever.

The merman kept his face partially submerged, his nose barely floating above the water. The few long strands of hair he possessed clung to his shoulder blades while the shorter pieces made an aborted attempt to form a proper curl around his pointed ears. The bald patches were horrifically obvious from this angle—pale, fleshy scabs peppered along his scalp.

He glared at her from under his hooded eyelids as if he could spill her blood through sheer malice alone.

She dismissed the plunging feeling that began to settle in her stomach, instead distracting herself by wringing out the excess water from her hair.

"I don't judge you for trying to take me out," Kiara began, being sure to keep her voice within a patient, casual register, "I thought you would've gone after the seagull I captured for you in the sack, but I seemed to have underestimated your hunger."

She paused, giving him a chance to reply. But he didn’t. The merman remained eerily silent, his glare unrelenting and emotionless. Not so much as a twitch of an eye or a pursing of the lip.

After a beat of silence between the pair, Kiara attempted to start the conversation again, this time going for a more straightforward approach, "If you’re wondering about what…all that was about, I should tell you that was just part of my contract to the land, so to speak. While it's not your typical holy sanctuary, it still behaves like one so long as I don't do anything to jeopardize it. In short, I can't harm you, and you can't do any harm to me."

At that, his icy expression thawed around the edges. His eyes lost some of their predatory gleam as the pupils widened in recognition.

"...So, you’re a sea witch, then," the merman croaked, his voice raspy and hollow as he arose from the water just enough to speak clearly. Kiara caught a glimpse of his teeth as he spoke. They appeared human-like at first glance until she noticed the row of sharp teeth falling behind his front teeth.

Kiara nodded, “I am, yes. This part of the mainland has belonged to my family for generations now. I keep this area in balance, and the ocean rewards me with my magic.”

The merman rolled his eyes towards the second half of the sentence, “You don’t have to explain how the ocean works to me, dear.”

Nodding once again, Kiara propped her elbows on the edge of the boat. “Noted. Now that that’s settled,” she leaned forward slightly and continued in a neutral tone, "How about you explain to me why you are here?"

He drew back slightly, his face frosting up all over again, “Do I need a reason to be here? It’s quite clear that I’m not a danger to you.”

“That is true,” Kiara confirmed as gently as she could manage through narrow eyes and tight lips, “but there’s been some weird things happening in town lately that align with what I’ve noticed with you so far.”

The merman shrugged stubbornly, “I don’t see how that has anything to do with me.”

"You've been here for days," Kiara deadpanned, dismissing his comment. "There are only so many things in the ocean that could disrupt everything to this extent. The fact that you’re here and not out there with the pack makes me think that you’re the reason they’re there."

He huffed in irritation, glaring up at her down his nose but staying silent.

"Answer my damn question," Kiara snapped, the firm tone returning to her voice, "Tell me why you are here, or else I'll have no choice but to cast you out."

She and the merman held eye contact for a long moment. Kiara could feel her patience waning the longer the silence stretched out. She couldn’t hurt him, but she imagined flinging him out into the open ocean like a bag of flour, anyway.

Eventually, the merman's will to stay silent died. His ears twitched violently by his face as his gaze softened completely in resignation, "...It’s the lighthouse."

Kiara quirked her head to the side, dumbfounded for a moment. Her eyes glanced at the tower on the cliff, watching the revolving beam of light.

"What about it?" she asked.

The merman sighed in exasperation, as if the explanation were obvious, "It's a sign of human civilization—a rather obvious one at that. No other merperson would want to get close."

Kiara mulled over his words. She had read that most merfolk had a strong dislike, some outright hostility, towards humans. She recalled the stories her older sisters would tell her before bed to frighten her. Tales of merfolk luring ships into a watery grave for sport; of merfolk taking their drowned victims prisoner deep below the sea and molding them to join their ranks.

While Kiara knew there was some truth to her sisters' horror stories, she also grew to understand that while merfolk were insistently loathsome toward humans, they tended to keep their distance from human settlements to avoid being put in a situation that would put them at a disadvantage. That is why they usually hunted in packs under the cloak of moonlight in open waters, where they would have the upper hand.

Kiara took a second to look at the merman again. When the lighthouse struck his skin, his flesh lost its translucency and became more solid. Beneath the water, she could see the front of the merman’s chest where two gray nipples lay over a smooth chest. Further below, she saw the dark outline of a dorsal fin undulating to keep him upright.

Before Kiara could come to any conclusions, he continued, “I’m not some dangerous criminal on the run. I was a human—a magistrate on a trip across the ocean for some business when a pack of mermaids lured my ship into another one.

“Once I had fallen into the water after the collision, they found me, pulled me down and away from the sinking ships while I drowned, and made me one of their own. I’ve been theirs ever since,” he explained, his gaze locked on hers as if to ensure that she listened to everything he said.

Kiara’s eyebrows furrowed as she absorbed the new information that was placed in front of her.

“Not a runaway criminal then, but a runaway slave,” Kiara confirmed, her hands locked together over the edge of the boat. The merman looked carefully at Kiara before giving her a small nod, “And that pack out there is out there hunting you down to bring you back.”

He nodded again before adding on, “They don’t know that I’m here. I hide away in this bay because I know it’s a place they wouldn’t typically look. But I can’t leave now without them capturing me—I have to wait until they leave this town before I can move on.”

Kiara looked over to the mouth of the bay in thought. She could only imagine how many merpeople were just outside the bay. She knew that it was only a matter of time before they discovered her territory.

She frowned, a knot forming in her chest, “Part of my pact with the ocean is to respect its power and sovereignty. The merpeople are directly tied to the ocean’s sovereignty. Letting you stay here would put me in danger.”

“Please don’t cast me out,” the merman pleaded, to her surprise. He looked up at her with the softest look in his eyes, “I won’t let them find this place. I swear once it’s safe, I’ll leave.”

Kiara rubbed her face, a sigh barreling out of her chest. There were no morals when it came to the ocean, but it did come with a tight leash.

The selfish part of her wanted to stay out of this conflict completely. To send him out and find another way to survive. But the human part of her felt dread at the idea of turning him away. He was a slave trying to escape to freedom. The kind of person she should protect, no matter the circumstances.

Kiara glanced back at the merman, who looked back at her in kind. There was no trace of that predatory, malicious intent on him. Just naked fear and desperation.

Her shoulders dropped as something clicked into place in her mind: “Make a deal with me.”

He tilted his head at her, an incredulous expression on his face.

“A contract between a merperson and a sea witch would bypass anything preventing me from helping you. I can give you protection in my territory so long as you swear to protect me and the bay in kind,” she explained carefully.

The merman blinked at her as her words landed on him, “…What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” she insisted, “You stay here until it’s safe for you to leave. You keep your presence here a secret from anyone outside of the territory. In exchange, you have full immunity here. I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe until it’s time for you to go.”

He considered this through another lapse of silence between the two. Kiara waited patiently, allowing him the opportunity to turn the idea over in his head.

Finally, he gave a slow and cautious nod.

Kiara sighed in relief. Straightening out her shoulders and shutting her eyes, she concentrated on the sound of the waves and the water that was still dripping off her skin. She muttered the words of the contract under her breath, a familiar feeling in her gut expanding and convulsing with every commandment. As she spoke, the water that pooled at her feet began to turn black and gravitate toward her. It felt like an oil trail was crawling up her leg, over her stomach, and down her arm to collect in the palm of her hand.

When she brought her hand to her chest and the water began to shimmer a golden color, she opened her eyes and spoke up, “I’ll need your name.”

The merman had lifted himself a little higher out of the water. He had propped himself on the edge of the boat, his entire upper body now above the water as he watched her work in silence. Upon hearing her address him, he flinched minutely in surprise.

“…Astarion,” he murmured.

Kiara nodded, whispering the final portion of the spell. The hand she held to her chest began to glow incandescently.

Carefully, she placed that hand on the merman’s shoulder. The water that was in her palm began to sink into where their skin met. She felt the water sink into her hand, shoot up her arm, and into her chest. She saw Astarion twitch under her hand as the water spread out through him as well.

Lifting her hand away, Kiara nodded with a smile, “There. It’s done. Mutual protection and a haven for you.”

Astarion nodded solemnly, a distant look in his eye as he lowered himself back into the water. He quietly drifted away from the boat, his back turning away from her.

Kiara’s eyes widened as she caught a glimpse of the state of his back. Barnacles of assorted sizes were scattered across his body, trailing around and beneath his prominent shoulder blades, down his spine, and up his neck. She saw the few that were attached to the back of his scalp.

Before she could stop herself, she spoke up again, “I’m Kiara Crowley, by the way.”

Astarion paused, turning his head back to look at her.

Kiara swallowed, suddenly feeling timid, “…I hope to see you again.”

He watched her silently, a thoughtful gleam in his eyes. In a fluid motion that shocked her and revolted her to her core, he shot her a sultry smile and blew her a kiss before diving under the waves.

She barely had any time to react before his dorsal fin slammed down and splashed water at her face as he left.

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldur’s gate astarion #bg3 #mermay #tavstarion #astarion ancunin

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