#of roughly equal torso dimensions

[squeakadeeks]

i totally forgot about this until it showed up in my photo memories. she chillin

[longitudinalwaveme]

Giant Robots Vs Scale

I am well aware that scale does not exist in this franchise, and that my research was cursory at best, so take all of the following with a grain of salt.

So, the Dinobots. In terms of alt modes, we have:

Grimlock: Tyrannosaurus rex (40 feet long, 13 feet tall at the hips, 14 metric tons)

Snarl: Stegosaurus stenops (30 feet long, about 3 tons)

Slag: Triceratops horridus (26-30 feet long, 6.1-12.0 metric tons)

Sludge: Brontosaurus excelsus (72 feet long; 15 tons).

Swoop: Pteranadon longiceps (6 feet tall, 20-23 foot maximum wingspan, possibly around 35 pounds)

With the exception of Swoop, who's roughly human-sized in alt mode, discounting the wings, they're all pretty large, but not exceptionally so, especially compared to the alternate modes of most Decepticons. (Brawl, a Leopard A1 main battle tank, is 31 feet long; Vortex, a Kaman SH-2 Seasprite, is 44 feet long; the Seekers, who are all F-15 Eagles, are about 64 feet long, etc.)

This gave me the idea of scaling the Dinobots' alternate modes so that they're the same size proportionately to an Autobot car (usually around 13-15 feet tall) that the dinosaur off of which their alternate mode is based would be to a human. While this is absolutely not necessary for the fiction (especially since, as noted above, scale does not exist in this franchise), I thought it would be interesting to see the results. Assuming that we're measuring dinosaurs against a six-foot human male, this means that we're working with a size increase of (very roughly) X 2.5, which gives us the following results:

Grimlock: 100 feet long, 32.5 feet tall at the hips (note that Grimlock would probably be considerably taller at the head since he's an anatomically inaccurate Tyrannosaurus who stands upright), approximately 35 metric tons.

Snarl: 75 feet long, approximately 15 tons.

Slag: 65-75 feet long, approximately 15.25-30 metric tons.

Sludge: 180 feet long, 37.5 tons.

Swoop: 15 feet tall/long, 50 foot wingspan. He'd definitely be more than 87.5 pounds, since he's made of metal and doesn't need to be lightweight in order to fly like a real Pteranadon would, but that is what a 2.5 increase in weight would be compared to the original weight.

So if you want your Dinobots to be really big...there you go. (Well, except Swoop. Even X 2.5 his dimensions are only about equal to those of the Autobot cars...though he does have a longer wingspan than the F-16, the F-4, the Harrier II Jump Jet, and even the F-15).

Other useless (but funny) scale information:

Groove, the Honda Goldwing GL 1200 Police Motorcycle, is only about eight feet long. If we're nice to him and multiply his stats by 2.5 like we did with the Dinobots, that increases to 20 feet and actually makes him a bit larger than his generally 13-15 foot long car teammates. His weight would also increase from 875.5 pounds to 2,188.75 pounds. This would, however, make his motorcycle mode completely worthless as a disguise. (The Dinobots don't have this problem. Since they transform into metal versions of extinct animals, they're not fooling anyone regardless of how close they are to the size of the actual animals.)

Blades, his teammate, is a Bell UH-1V Iroquois Helicopter, and as such, is about 57 feet long and weights about 5,125 pounds (I'm presuming this is empty). If we decrease his size in the same way that we increased Groove's, this would make him 22.8 feet long and 2,050 pounds. He'd still be a little big, but he's scale much better with his teammates than he would at full size.

Streetwise is pretty simple. He's a Nissan 300ZX Turbo police car. He's 14.2 feet long and weighs in at 2,888-3,280 pounds, so pretty standard for a car.

First Aid is a Datsun Vanette C120 ambulance, and he's....surprisingly short. A Datsun Vanette C120 is only about 14 feet long. He's also about five and half feet wide, and weighs in at a surprisingly light 1,907-2,315 pounds. Have I been overestimating ambulance size this whole time, or is he just at tiny ambulance? Note that Ratchet and Ironhide are very similar in size to First Aid, as they are also Datsun Vanettes.

Hot Spot is a Mitsubishi Fuso Great Fire Engine, which was surprisingly difficult to find stats for. Based on the information I could find, he's nearly 25 feet long (24.93 feet) and weighs in at 16,931.5 pounds, making him the heaviest member of the team even if Blades is at full size. So, if we increase Groove's size by X 2 (X 2.5 seems a bit large) and decrease Blades by the same amount as we originally increased Groove, we'd actually have a kind-of sort-of reasonably scaled Protectobot team! As it stands, though, Groove and Blades are throwing everything off to a hilarious extent.

The Combaticons are a nightmarish mess. Since Swindle has become very strongly tied to a jeep alternate mode even though his original toy did not transform into a jeep, and his alternate mode animation model looks a LOT like Hound's, I'll be working off the assumption that Swindle is, in fact, a J59 Jeep, just like Hound. This would make him about 11.5 feet long and 2,665 pounds. This is small. If we multiply these stats by 2.5, this gets us 28.75 feet and 6,662.5 pounds. This would be a huge jeep, but he'd still be smaller (or at the very least, lighter) than all of his teammates.

Brawl is a Leopard A1 Main Battle Tank. (His animation model doesn't LOOK like one, but neither is it incredibly obviously something else, as is the case with Swindle.) Counting the fully extended turret, he's 9.54 meters, or 31.3 feet, long. (The main body of the tank is somewhere around 27 feet long.) He weighs in at 46.5 tons (that's 93,000 pounds!) However, as far as length is concerned, he scales reasonably well with a x2.5 Swindle.

Vortex is a Kaman SH-2 Seasprite helicopter. He's 38 feet, 4 inches long and weighs 7,040 pounds empty. This means he's about 7 feet longer than Brawl (including the turret), and about 10 feet longer than Swindle x2.5. Even at his absolute maximum weight capacity (13,300 pounds) he's still FAR lighter than the tank, however.

Onslaught is a headache, because, while he's obviously an anti-aircraft truck, neither his toy nor his animation model appear to be any particular type of anti-aircraft truck, making it really difficult to guess as to how large he might be.

A YouTube video posted by a user by the name of Nemesis Bloodryche suggests that he looks similar to the Russian BAZ-6909 10x10. It is 11,300 millimetres, or about 37 feet, long, and weighs 48,502 pounds (or about 24 tons). This would scale appropriately with Brawl and reasonably well with Vortex.

Blast Off is a space shuttle orbiter. (If he was the full space shuttle, he'd be even more massive than this!) He's 122 feet long, with a width of 58 feet and 7 inches and a wingspan of 78 feet. This means that he is wider than any of his teammates are long. He weighs in at a 53,930 pounds, which, while impressive, is somehow still less than Brawl (93,000 pounds). He's 3 times longer than Vortex and Onslaught, 4 times longer than Brawl sans turret and Swindle X 2.5, and almost 11 times longer than a properly-scaled J59 Jeep Swindle. Needless to say, he and Swindle are the main reason that Bruticus is such a mess, scale-wise. Believe it or not, though, Blast Off still isn't the worst in terms of scale. Also, if we kept Swindle's increased size and decreased Blast Off's size by the same factor, things would at least become slightly more reasonable, as this would give us a 48.8 foot long Blast Off, which, while still big, is not as ridiculously so.

Most of the Aerialbots, being fighter jets, are at least somewhat reasonably scaled. Slingshot, the Harrier II, is 46 feet long and 12,500 pound empty; Skydive, the F-16, is 49 feet, 5 inches long and 18,900 pounds empty; Fireflight, the F-4 Phantom II, is 63 feet long and 30,328 pounds empty; Air Raid, the F-15 is nearly 64 feet long and weighs 28,500 pounds empty. It's not perfect by a long shot, but it works if you squint, especially since Slingshot is usually depicted as smaller than the others. And then Silverbolt ruins everything. Silverbolt is a Concorde SST, 202 feet long and 173,504 pounds empty. He's longer and heavier than Blast Off, the space shuttle orbiter! Sure, the torso should logically be a bit larger than the combiner limbs, but this is just ridiculous. He's 3.2 times longer than Air Raid, his longest teammate, and 5.7 times heavier than Fireflight, his heaviest teammate! He's even 1.86 times heavier than the 46-ton tank and 1.65 times the length of the space shuttle orbiter! If we reduce his size by a factor of 2.5, Silverbolt would be 80.8 feet long and weigh 69,401.6, which, while not perfect, would be a lot more manageable than a full-sized Concorde SST.

The Stunticons have a similar problem. The four small cars actually scale even better than the Aerialbots. Drag Strip, the Tyrell P34, is 13.58 feet long and weighs 1,370 pounds. Breakdown, the Lamborghini Countach, is also 13.58 feet long, and weighs 2,978 pounds. Wildrider, the Ferrari 308 GTB, is 13.87 feet long and weighs 2,784 pounds. And Dead End, the Porsche 928, is 14.8 feet long and weighs between 1,450 and 1,620 pounds. They're not perfect, but they're all within less than three feet of one another! That's considerably better than the differences between the smaller Aerialbots, and MUCH better than the scale difference between, say, Blades and Groove. But then there's Motormaster. He is a truck and trailer. The "truck" part is the Kenworth K100 Aerodyne sleeper truck, which is about 20 feet long. The problems come in with the "trailer" part. A box trailer is about 48 feet long, and, since Motormaster's robot mode is composed of both truck and trailer, this makes him around 68 feet long, with a rough weight estimate of somewhere between 10,000 and 25,000 pounds. While he's not as huge as Silverbolt, he is just as large, if not larger, compared to his largest teammates, being 4.6 times longer than Dead End and 3.35-8.37 times heavier than Breakdown. Again, thanks to the YouTube video mentioned above for the length of the trailer. That being said, if we did what we did with Blades and Silverbolt and reduced his size by a factor of 2.5, Motormaster would be 27.2 feet long and between 4,000 and 10,000 pounds, and things would actually scale rather well. (This would also help to mitigate the scale discrepancy between Motormaster and Optimus Prime.)

Astrotrain, like Blast Off, is a space shuttle orbiter, 122 feet long and 53,930 pounds. However, unlike Blast Off, he is also a train: the JNR Class D51, which is 64 feet long. (There is a weight listed for the train, 76.8 tons, but I'm not sure if this weight refers only to the engine. Astrotrain's body is composed only of the engine, not the entire train.) This means that, when transforming from a train into a space shuttle, Astrotrain almost doubles in length!

Broadside transforms into some sort of fighter jet (neither the G1 toy nor the animation model resemble any known jet enough to tell for sure). For the sake of argument, we'll say he's an F-15. The F-15 is almost 64 feet long. His other alternate mode is an aircraft carrier. A Nimitz class aircraft carrier is 1,092 feet long. Broadside's aircraft carrier alternate mode would be 16 times longer than his airplane mode! Even Silverbolt, who is massive, would be 5.4 times shorter than Broadside's aircraft carrier mode! As insane as Astrotrain's doubling in length is, Broadside increasing his size by a factor of 16 is much, much more so.

Metroplex transforms into....a city? (Okay, so he really looks like he transforms into a fort, but it's more fun to imagine the scale of a true city-sized robot.) The largest city by land mass in the US, Oklahoma City, is 621 miles squared. While square miles can't really be used to measure distance, it is very, very roughly 16-ish miles in diameter. If Metroplex is the size of Oklahoma City (unlikely), this would make him around 84,480 feet tall. Mt. Everest is 29,032 feet tall. Metroplex would be nearly 3 times the height of Mt. Everest!

When it comes to determining Unicron's scale, the answer depends on whether we go with the roughly moon-sized Cybertron seen in the cartoon or the apparently Saturn-sized Cybertron of the comics. Please note that these estimates are VERY rough. The diameter of the Moon is 2,158.8 miles. If we assume, as seems probable, that Unicron at least doubles in length when he transforms, this would make him at least 4,317.6 miles tall. That's 22,796,928 feet tall! His gravitational force would be about 1.6 meters per second squared, and would have a mass of 7.342×10 to the 22nd power kg. (Mathematical expressions don't seem to work properly on this site.) If Unicron is instead the size of Saturn, he would have a diameter of 72,376 miles. If we double this, we get 144,752 miles tall or 373,460,160 feet! He would have a mass of at least 5.683 X 10 to the 26th power kilograms, and a gravitational force of at least 10.44 meters/second squared. I'm also pretty sure that it would be next to impossible to get a solid planet at this size. Saturn, unlike Unicron, is made of gas, enabling it to be much larger than a metal planet could logically grow.

[godkilller]

HELL VERSE - WORLDBUILDING

There are numerous levels of Hell, and it’s difficult but not impossible to travel between each one. Gin went the lowest layer meant for betrayers / liars, therefore meaning he cannot travel any further downward. It’s an isolated place that stretches out for eternity, a dry roughened plain with sharp structures of rock and jagged mountains off in the distance – the largest, greatest mountain punctures through a thick gray storm of clouds in a constant state of churning thunder and flashing bolts of lightning. It’s a desolate land, no running water nor greenery. The days are long and biting winds are harsh, not warm, the ground is icy in areas, bodies frozen beneath the dirty surface, and the nights are pitch black and freezing cold. The sun never shines past the rumbling gray storm clouds above, there is no moonlight. It never rains.

A being sentenced to Hell awakens with a single chain, similar to a Chain of Fate, at the center of their chest. More chains begin to manifest upon them the longer they stay in Hell, and these cannot be broken by physical force nor Zanpakuto strike. The chains will extend endlessly, and even go invisible at times, though the starting period of the person manifesting within Hell typically sees their initial chain not giving them as much slack, restricting them from immediately seeking to travel to another circle of Hell beyond the one they were designated to appear within. The chains can be grabbed at, even used in combat scenarios, but the attachment skewers through the person’s chest into their very soul, it can be extremely painful to have it pulled at.

Roaming blindly throughout every single level are Hollow-esque creatures of molten flame, golems, who will endlessly hunt after beings with great enough reiatsu, regardless of if they conceal themselves – they crawl and clamber after their prey until the end of time, howling and burning. Beings who are caught by them are drained of their energies, and eventually consumed and killed if they aren’t already a resident of Hell – beings already damned to eternity in Hell will not die even if swarmed by these creatures, they’ll simply awaken later feeling greatly weakened temporarily. Zanpakuto can cut these things, destroy them, but they don’t die.

Guarding Hell throughout every layer or circle are Sentinels, large skeletal Hollow-esque soldiers who tirelessly patrol Hell. They stand roughly 60 feet  ( 18 meters )  tall, wear slabs of armor over their torso, shoulders, arms and legs, and may or may not carry with them weapons like swords or clubs of equally grand sizes. They attack anything on sight, but cannot perceive reiatsu, therefore can be avoided by physically hiding. If they find a target, they will immediately seek to destroy them. These entities can summon forth into its hand and thus grasp at the chains connected to any resident of Hell, making it dangerous for any condemned persons to stand against them. Sentinels who succeed in striking down their targets send that victim to Purgatory, a separate and inescapable dimension.

Gin attempted to travel beyond his layer of Hell immediately, but was pulled back downward by his chain. He then took to traveling on foot to scout out the barren wastelands – several days worth of walking, in hunger and thirst, alone, Gin came across a labyrinth of sharp rocks leading towards the base of a mountainous structure, and began scaling it. A single misstep can lead to a harsh plummet, and every part of the climb involved carefully navigating the sharp black rocks which jutted outwards, leaving minimal areas to stop and rest. Lightning bolts, as the climb grew higher into the gray, threatened to strike and made the air smell like ash and copper. The climb is tedious, and various Sentinels stalk around the base of this mountain to guard it from being scaled.

Gin’s journey within his layer of Hell took him several months, but he at last breached the eighth layer of Hell beyond the clouds. Trenches pooled in mist and fog  ( which transition downward into the clouds below )  separated into ten parts – the various sins involving fraud, false prophets, and seducers. The trenches are muddy, slick, and reeks of death. There are bodies half submerged and wailing within the muck, trying to breathe and cry for help – they are the only available anchors to climb out, forcing any attempting to get out of the trenches to crawl and clamber using the bodies of others to hold onto. Most are dormant or incoherent, but newer souls submerged are aware and in blatant distress, desperate, and if awakened into screaming will thus awaken others, causing a frenzied attempt for all to climb upwards. Any who fall are swallowed up by the mists below, and any residents of Hell who fall down the trench will be sent to the level of Hell awaiting below. Every trench is connected, intertwined, woven in a way that each must be dealt with in order to proceed upward.

A little over a year, a chain added to Gin’s frame, and Gin has made it to the seventh layer of Hell meant for abusers, violent and blasphemous, ghouls gnashing their teeth and claw at one another angrily, blindly, in a vast field bloodsoaked and decorated with fallen bodies dismembered and slain. Discarded weapons askew in the damp red-stained grass. It rains here, but irregularly in abrupt downpours, the air is thick and hot. Gin meets Kiganjo Gosuke, the previous Kenpachi slain by Zaraki Kenpachi, who becomes overeager to finally see a new Shinigami travel to this layer of Hell —- and they battle. Gin reckons he needn’t fight too seriously, as they’re both in Hell and therefore neither of them can truly die – but this sentiment is quickly corrected: you can be sent to Purgatory by another damned soul if slain, which Gin would prefer to avoid. Idly, in the midst of clashing, Gin ponders on whether or not him winning would mean Zaraki Kenpachi would be required to slay him to amend the Kenpachi title being loopholed. Gosuke will not let Gin pass him and tells Gin to not get too cocky.

They battle for several days and nights. Gin rediscovers a faint will to live in the span of their tedious battle, realizes he’s still holding on to something, and gives Gosuke his all. Gin laments having to send the first person he genuinely meets in Hell to Purgatory, informing the other that it’s nothing personal before using Kamishini No Yari’s poisonous ace. Gin travels to the next layer, weaving through another maze of sharp trees past the fields and into the sixth circle, a charred and desolate place bathed in flame and molten lava. Many Sentinels reside here, birthed from the seas of fire, a rather large one carrying a whip cracks it across the lands, forming new fissures of flame that spew ash and embers into rains of harsh soot. Suffocating, the atmosphere has no relent nor clear passage, and Gin is struck down when attempting to pass through, pulled by his chains, and swarmed. He’s engulfed by clawing golems who burn and eat away at flesh until Gin awakens with the taste of ash in his mouth, weakened, in the fields of blood of the seventh layer of Hell. Gosuke is not there anymore. Gin’s alone, exhausted, and left to wonder how he’ll ever get past the molten terrain of the circle beyond, awaiting him.

Gin rests to regain his strength, though he’s needed to grow accustomed to the constant sensation of starvation, thirst, and the lack of security enough to genuinely sleep or rest without eventually being sniffed out by lurking golems. Gin does his best to do so, giving himself several weeks of collective wandering, hiding, resting, and repeat – until his reiatsu felt adequately recovered enough to try his way through the sixth again. Intruders of Hell must travel downward through each layer and will face equal adversity as those who hope to escape. But escape isn’t possible if chained to Hell via Chains of Fate, meaning even if one were to make it to the first circle and towards the grand gates of Hell, they could walk through and certainly smell the air and breathe it in, but inevitably the chains which bind them below will trigger, awaken, grow taut, and then mercilessly drag them downward through stone and dirt and rock until their bodies return to the circle of Hell they first awoke within. This can happen immediately, or it can happen days, weeks, even a month after their initial ‘escape’ happens. There is no warning. Just an inescapable doom.

[stunudo]

Something Wicked

A Criminal Minds Fan-fiction

Featuring: Dr. Spencer Reid x Female Reader

My Masterlist // Spencer Reid Masterlist

A/N: I decided to just start writing. I hope you guys like this fun seasonal romp! I started this while drinking, but finished it days later. So you should absolutely hold me accountable for shitty things like spelling and lack of plot. xoxo Stu

You half dashed, half crept around the crowds of people. You knew you were being followed, but you hoped your shortness would be an advantage in the masses of bar-goers decked out in their party store costumes and matte painted faces. You tried not to look back, but the exhilaration of the pursuit was getting the better of you. Finally, after the distance seemed great enough you rounded a small coffee cart and peeked over your shoulder.

The faces were all strangers, indifferent in the brisk night air. Your stomach fell slightly, you hadn’t thought you would make it. That sizzling electricity turned to pins and needles along your covered arms. Your neck snapped up, some movement in your periphery causing your senses to realign themselves. Your body lurched forward, ready to continue on your path of dodging through French Maids and Polyester Avengers.

Instead, your face fell against a soft yet reedy surface. The rags covering the torso were a mossy green, while the face peering down at you was a frozen sneer. The brown eyes shining back at you, the only redeeming feature in an otherwise menacing ensemble.

“Hi Spence.” You sputtered, the heat from your misstep tightening across your cheeks.

Before he could reply, though the smirk was evident beneath his mask. Derek Morgan’s long whistle broke through the night air. Everything came into stark contrast, the heat of your breath fogging with each slow exhale. The way your legs twitched from the sudden stop, every inch of exposed skin was protesting the cold. And a knot had formed securely in your stomach.

“Listen, I know you guys have your own thing going on, but let’s get through the night before you start getting out of hand.” Derek’s playful tone had you rolling your eyes, anything to keep them from locking on to Spencer’s again. Anything from making it obvious how much he affected you.

Garcia sauntered beside Morgan’s bulk, their arms linked, her boots heeled and rhinestoned to perfection. Morgan’s costume was simple, an F.B.I. tee shirt beneath his leather jacket. You didn’t think it was very funny post-freshman year of college, but no one was arguing with those biceps. Garcia was an 80s glam rock diva and had the lace and eyeliner to put most of them to shame. You started walking back down the promenade until you spotted them: Hotch and Prentiss in matching costumes.

Where they found them she would never tell, but Hotch had a loud zoot suit of canary yellow, while Prentiss wore a sparkling, TINY, flapper dress beneath their matching trench coats. This was the BAU after-hours, and you were excited to see them all participating. It felt weird without JJ, but you knew she would most likely be chasing Henry around in a cow costume or something equally adorable.

Finally the moment you had all been waiting for, a pristine stretch limo pulled to the curb, and a hulking driver stepped out of the front. Once he opened the back door you all climbed in, with many gawks and a couple of catcalls from the surrounding crowds. Inside David Rossi was smoking a cigar, a silk scarf loose at his shoulders over his burgundy smoking jacket.

Settled in on the bench seat nestled between Morgan and the wall, your evening had officially begun.

Spencer had felt the twinge of mischief in every glance from Y/N, it was equally spellbinding and alarming. Was this flirting? Is that why is mouth felt dry and his palms were sweaty? She wore a standard Hogwarts Robe and had Garcia do  something with her hair to make it a massive tangle and, somehow, Spencer had never her found her more charming.

The party that Rossi had taken them to was phenomenal, a place unlike anything he had dared to suspect from the older profiler. The frights and the lights sent waves of stimuli through Spencer’s lean frame. The magic of pretend monsters overshadowing any memory of real dangers from their day job. Somehow, everyone was having a good time. Yet, Spencer couldn’t shake the feeling that he had a secret, one he wasn’t privy to. The confusion and shame battled through his overzealous mind.

You had been dancing, or what could be described as dancing with the proper time and space away from the crowded hall filled with slutty-what-have-yous and poorly applied grease paint. Everyone in turn had spent a few lively songs on the floor, only you had refused to leave, even when Penelope tried to signal the sacred bathroom break. Prentiss and Garcia each gave you a wilted look, but made for the winding line as a duo. Joke was on them, because you hadn’t even been drinking, much.

“So, you going to keep eyeing Reid or are you finally going to make your move?” Derek had ducked behind you to keep a particular Zombie Football Ref out of your bubble.

“If I am doing anything, Agent Morgan,” You barked against the thudding music. “Is having a good time. I am making myself perfectly approachable, wouldn’t you agree?” You wiggled your eyebrows at Derek before grinning back at Hotch and Reid by the tables near the bar.

“How does Morgan move his hips like that without losing balance? The physics of that stance don’t add up,” Reid muttered. Hotch knew his team members were on the edge of a knife tonight and with Prentiss in something little more than lingerie he felt himself slipping along a similar blade. Maybe it was the atmosphere, around every hidden corner there were dark deeds and roaming hands. Something seemed off, as if a storm was brewing and no one was seeking shelter. They were just waiting to be washed away with the tide.

Emily’s hand found his forearm as the tempo fell, leaving a current from her footfalls to the soles of his shoes and eventually racing over every nerve of his body. He followed her blindly, leaving Reid to talk to thin air. Or if he was as smart as he claimed, to go kiss the girl.

Rossi smirked in the corner at the way the night was unfolding. He nodded briefly at Morgan before turning back to the night’s hostess, a stunning and single, best-selling horror author.

The chase had been lost, nervous energy had eaten away any playfulness the night had stirred within him. Spencer was almost panicking now. Why had he come, even on Halloween these events were always too loud for proper conversation? Words and tangents, those were his lifelines in social situations. Now he was just feebly standing alone in a room full of intoxicated strangers. It was a familiar nightmare, replayed backwards and with fewer fire arms.

Just as he was going to abandon the night’s festivities, a determined poke assaulted his shoulder blade.

“Come on, Creature Feature, your turn,” Y/N’s voice was garbled with the cacophony around them. When Spencer didn’t reply, she grabbed his gloved hand and dragged him with her to the center of the dance floor. She wiggled one monster fist from his hand and then the next, shoving them roughly into the bag she kept beneath her cloak. Spencer didn’t know what to say that would convince her this was ultimately a mistake, one that would leave one, if not both, of them injured or crestfallen. So he just watched her, reminding himself that he still had his mask, that he wasn’t on display. Tonight there was just a monster standing in front of a witch, with total lack of reason and rhythm.

He was overly aware of his heartbeat and how it pulsed through his ears as if his anatomy had been reconstructed as well as his ability to form thoughts. Suddenly, his bare hand was underneath her robe and touching the warmth of her waist, radiating through her button down blouse. She raised her eyes at him, but he missed the message. She sighed, grabbing the other hand and slipping it on the opposite side. Her hands locked behind his neck, forcing his face downwards as she started to sway.

“Spence, you’re going to have to look at me, eventually.” She called up to him, there was no anger or malice in her voice, yet he still recoiled at the broken bubble of perplexing silence.

When he finally met her gaze everything rushed in and then disappeared. Noise, light, oxygen, everything seemed to shoot away from them, as if placing them in a pocket dimension, locked in only by each other’s hold.

They were the same eyes he had studied when she would ask a question or pose a theory. The same eyes that were gentle and apologetic when she had to go back to her desk. The same eyes that were playful and engaging whenever a new statistic left his mouth. But there was something else in their depths tonight. And it took everything in Spencer’s consciousness to swallow once he saw it.

You hadn’t thought it would be this difficult. Clearly, there was chemistry and yet he seemed distant if not disinterested all together. Some profiler you were. When the song changed and there was no rational reason to be clutching to him like a brace-faced teenager, you stepped back. The expectations realigning themselves in your mind so not to become overly self conscious or make a scene. Please, don’t make a scene, Y/N. But then it happened, like someone pushed you into oncoming traffic, you just reached up and took off the mask.

Spencer’s eyes bulged, distrust and shock flooding his chocolate eyes. You didn’t stop there. The second your palm wrapped around the rubber texture of his faux face, you knew you couldn’t be stopped. Once the barrier was removed and your path was clear, you pounced. Heels popped off the ground and your arms flew up, mouth latching on to Spencer’s impossibly pink lips. And you were flying.

Just as quickly as you met your target, you were both falling. People backed away, as Spencer and you went crashing to the floor, the heckling sounds of Monster Mash bursting from the distant speakers.

“Oh my god, Reid, are you okay?!” You scrambled to check on him, touching his hair and rubbing his back, attempting to dampen the pain by spreading pressure. 

“Nothing broken, except any ounce of pride I had left,” Spencer moaned. Slowly you began to notice all the people staring at you both, knowing their attention would only make the matter worse for him. You reached back and grabbed his mask where you had dropped it, shoving it over his face.

“You want to get out of here?” You asked out of the side of your mouth, watching the crowd like a cornered animal watches a pack of wolves. You stood with him, half blinded and sluggish, behind you.

“Please.” That was all he had to say, then Derek and Rossi broke through the ranks, and before the amused glint from Derek’s lips could register in your mind you were ushering Spencer out through the crowd.

“Go! Spence! Go, googogogo!” You squealed with laughter when you made it to the exit, dodging the security guards with graceless flamboyancy.

You stood, breathless on the house’s front path. Spencer ditched the mask, eyes bright and mouth open. You both froze, waiting for the rush to quell.

It never got the chance, because then he kissed you.

And it was delicious.

General Taglist:

@bluecatebluecatonecattwocat @heyworld07 @thespaceprincess @skrrrrrrrrrrt @luckypop6 @dontshootmespence @veroinnumera @holding-on-to-francis @gabriellewritermua @mysticpansy @bloowulf  @ultrarebelheart @braziliangirlonasharkcity @dionnaea @tenaciousaracdeexpert @fbissaderekmorgan @frietjmeloen @rt8815 @cynbx @nelbie @greytoneworld  @sassyspacepizza @extremeobsessions101 @haendel-me-with-care

[zedecksiew]

The God Mine (Part 1)

THE GOD MINE

The bones of god-beasts, even aeons dead, still remember their own potency. A useful material for mage-craft and industry.

The smell of effluvia marks this place. The music of picks. A great open pit. Damaged, silent men clamber over each other, worms in a wound in the earth.

+

A DEAD GOD

Titanic ribs jut like the shell of a bombed-out temple. Brushed by the ghost of divine terror – you shiver.

What was this thing?

~

Portfolio – this was a god-beast of:

1: Artifice. 2: Ambition. 3: Fate. 4: Fire. 5: Hunger. 6: Healing. 7: Plagues. 8: Pleasure. 9: Madness. 10: Murder. 11: Beasts. 12: Battle. 13: Visions. 14: Virility. 15: Lies. 16: Law. 17: Thunder. 18: Tyranny. 19: Disorder. 20: Darkness.

In the presence of its corpse, all actions according to this god’s idiom are done with advantage.

~

Form – it was:

1: Humanoid. Hair, fingers, hooves. 2: Saurian. Scales, sauropod gait. 3: Piscine. Fish mail, fins, fish tail. 4: Mantid. Exoskeleton and ungues. 5: Birdlike. Feathers, sickle talons. 6: Serpentine. Coiling, coiling, coiling.

With the limbs and qualities roughly appropriate to that morphology.

~

Additional features – godliness made it extraordinary. Roll twice in each category. Parentheses indicate special properties in the remains:

Heads (d12): 1: Head of an ant. (Antennae cells sense life.) 2: Head of a mastodon. (Tusk ivory explodes doors.) 3: Head of an owl. (Brain matter chatters random secrets.) 4: Head of a crocodile. (Wounds inflicted by teeth enamel do not staunch.) 5: Head an icosahedron. (All rolls equal to the result of the die face you stand on.) 6: Eye a window to the starry void. (Portal to the vacuum of space.) 7: Eyes of molten iron. (Still molten.) 8: Unicorn horn. (Keratin a universal panacea.) 9: Adamantine tusks. (Unbreakable.) 10: d4 faces, all on a single head. (Roll d4 for each face, above.) 11: Mane of wise serpents. (Ghosts. Bored. Want to see the world. Will grant you powers, to this end.) 12: Fig forest on the crown. (Fruit reverses aging, seeds still viable.)

Torsos (d12): 1: Tortoise shell. (Individual scutes indestructible.) 2: Godzilla ridged plates. (Electrified.) 3: Actual-gold fur. 4: Glass scales. (Easily shattered.) 5: Nacreous sweat. (Seams of pearl.) 6: Psychedelic musk. (Pockets of hallucinogenic air.) 7: d4 vaginas to pocket dimensions. (Still open.) 8: Pregnant with a god of opposing idiom. (All actions according to the stillborn god’s idiom are done with advantage.) 9: Pregnant with a miniature sun. (Burning.) 10: d100 eggs of demi-divine spawn. (Will hatch undead horrors if cracked.) 11: d4 outsized priapic penises. (Endless gushing ichor, if punctured.) 12: Testes bursting with flying sperm. (Black, undead, aims for fertile wombs.)

Arms (d12): 1: Pair of arms, simian-handed. 2: Pair of arms, scythe-ended. 3: Pair of arms, crab-pincered. 4: Pair of arms, ghoul-clawed. 5: d12 arms, barbed, tentacular. 6: Two forearms on every elbow. 7: Hands performing flaming mudras. (Radioactive.) 8: 2d4 disembodied, flying palms. (Counts as slumbering, independent monsters.) 9: Wrist a stump, leaking disease. (Primordial ancestor to bone-break fever.) 10: Hands solid, articulated silver. 11: Touch that drains blood. (Negative-energy galleries.) 12: Touch that freezes tissue. (Frozen galleries.)

Wings (d12): 1: Pair of eagle wings. 2: Pair of bat wings. 3: Fan of peacock tail-feathers. 4: Two pairs of lace wings, fore and hind. 5: Two pairs of moth wings, staring-eye motifs. (Stuns on sight.) 6: Pair of lionfish spike-fins. (Excruciating pain on touch.) 7: 2d4 wings, detached, independent. 8: Wings in multicolour flame. (Galleries of flammable gas, as yet unignited.) 9: Wings that hum hypnotically. (Listeners will obey all spoken commands.) 10: Wings burnt, shrivelled away, useless. 11: Wings of solid jade, a burden. 12: Wings that eat light. (Blocks all sight.)

Legs (d12): 1: Pair of legs, simian-footed. 2: Pair of legs, eagle-taloned. 3: Pair of legs, goat-hoofed. 4: Pair of legs, frog-webbed. 5: 2d4 pairs of locust legs. 6: Slug foot, corrosive slime. (Acid lakes.) 7: Two calves on every knee. 8: d4 knees too many. 9: Footprints of diamond. 10: Footprints of fungal growths. 11: Footprints of screaming faces. (Seams of skulls.) 12: One leg a stump, bleeding leukocytes. (Lake of predatory leukocytes.)

Accoutrements (d12): 1: Trishula of frozen lightning. (Actual lightning.) 2: Belt of amber beads, a demon imprisoned in each. (Smashable.) 3: Garland of angel skulls. (Vengeful ghost angels. Will grant powers to those who would topple gods.) 4: Lotus-flower-shaped seat, made of lotus flowers. (Vein of still-fragrant petals.) 5: Turbined interstellar chariot. (Mangled star-metal technologies.) 6: Crown of thorns. (Made from sharpened dragon antlers.) 7: Mystic astrolabe. (Shattered. Repaired, able to manipulate the firmament.) 8: Smooth, featureless mask. (Shrinks to human size. When worn, assume form of any living entity you previously met. Magic cannot detect this deception.) 9: Winged slippers. (Capable of flight.) 10: Giant bow. (Broken. Repaired, drawn by somebody of divine lineage, its arrows will slay any entity.) 11: Abacus. (Missing beads. Repaired, able to fundamentally reconfigure a mortal soul.) 12: Arched harp. (Unstrung. Repaired, its vibrations freeze time.)

Attendants (d12): 1: Sentient giant ticks. (Genteel, philosophical, vampiric, starving.) 2: Ancient outang-men. (Insane albino outang-trogs.) 3: Great cockerel. (Kaiju-sized chicken skeleton. Will animate if unearthed.) 4: Great python. (Enormous intelligent tapeworms.) 5: Eight-legged horse. (Incorporeal hooves thundering through the tunnels. Tramples.) 6: Thirteen bronze dwarves. (Invented bone-marrow beer. When they mined out the marrow their camaraderie collapsed. None left.) 7: Shoulder angel, shoulder demon. (Spirits. One benign, one malign. Both compete to further their god’s idiom.)   8: School of angelfish. (Submerged warrens. Fleshing-eating swarms.) 9: Fairy slaves. (Now a nightmare cannibal autocracy.) 10: Marble automatons. (A mega-automaton assemblage, always looking for more parts.) 11: Life-giving rainbow wisps. (Fungus-spreading negative-rainbow wisps.) 12: Octahedrim. (Eight-sided floating polyhedra that shoot lasers and eat luck.)

+

SO YOU WANT TO QUARRY A GOD’S CORPSE

Imagine your god-beast. Imagine it fall.

+++

( Image sources:

http://www.barakasamsara.com/location/kawah-ijen-sulfur-mine-java https://www.pinterest.com/pin/328833210262526871/ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leviathan_(book) https://factsprovidence.wordpress.com/moore-lovecraft-comics-annotation-index/pantheon-variant-covers/ https://medieval.tumblr.com/post/71758580115/eyes-on-wings-on-wheels-with-eyes-ophanim )