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tuefelhundenivfictions · 3 days ago

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Gardens of the Terminids: The Sands of Time; Episode 1; Part 2

This is the next big edit chunk. For now, I am done with the work. I will revisit it in a day or so and make some possible rewrites, editing all the segments as needed. For now, it's done. ------------------------------------------------------

The time lapse lasts for several more days, as the boundaries of the Oasis and its greenery slowly shrink inward, leaving the dry, dusty desert behind. The time-lapse begins playing in real time as a large arthropod and several smaller ones approach the edge of one of the larger ponds.

The dusty brown creatures appear almost flat against the ground surface. The larger creature pauses on the edge of the green carpet while the small creatures skitter forward rapidly, raising their forelimbs as they cautiously advance.

They occasionally stop and tap the ground before advancing. Sensing no apparent danger, they wander around the plant life, plucking off blossoms or small fruits that feed into their mandibles.

The smaller arthropods approach the water's edge and dip their faces into it one at a time, taking long moments. As they do, their abdomens begin to swell out, rapidly revealing a yellow coloration as they appear to fill with water. Once they have all had their fill, they return to the larger creature, which has ventured into the green area and is consuming clumps of moss and bush analogs, slowly lumbering up the water's edge. It lowers its larger head into the water, and small eddies can be seen near it as it sucks up water. The level of the pond begins to recede slowly.

The creature's large abdomen grows several sizes, stretching the soft, leathery-looking membrane beneath the shell. The yellowish flesh swirls with visible water from the pond and chewed-up greenery in its abominable spaces. Soon, it stops and begins to wander away, surrounded by the smaller creatures.

“Here we see an example of some of the more exotic wildlife of Klendathu. These large arthropods are well adapted to desert life. This small group, called a pod by the locals, has harvested water and food from this temporary Oasis and will carry their bounty back to their herd. As long as the main body is in range, they will revisit this location again and again until it is either depleted or the herd moves too far out.” The time lapse begins again, with a few of the same creatures appearing, slowly draining the ponds as they do. The water flow has slowed to a trickle and soon stops. As it dries, the remaining shallow water is visited mainly by smaller and smaller forms of animal life. The last of the ponds is seen around the large, fleshy, yellow cactus-like plant. Unlike the plant life around it, it is swelling in size.

As the water becomes more scarce, its skin distends, giving the appearance of internal pressure. Clear, glass-like windows begin to appear through the plant's flesh in long, vertical lines. The light glints off the transparent parts with an almost prismatic light reflection. As the drone watches, wisps of steam begin to leak from the pores, and the plant starts to visibly shake and distort due to pressure buildup.

Soon, it reaches an inevitable outcome, and the plant violently explodes into fleshy chunks, accompanied by a gush of steam, followed by a last burst of several gallons of water that seems to gush violently from the base. Roots deep below release their water into the dying oasis. The loud boom signals the end of the Oasis as the last of the plant life collapses and decays into fragments and dust under the sun's ever-beating heat. “The blast of self-destruction of the Boiler Cactus is the signal of the end of this Oasis life cycle. Its chunks will bear seeds coated in dense layers of fiber and nutrients that can survive for several years between cycles, if needed. These depressions are from some of the more robust bursts in softer soils and the sinkholes caused by the roots, which expand deeply to house the water that fuels the plant's final blast. The bigger the cactus, the deeper the depression, and the more water can fill the oasis.

The locals have learned to spot these naturally formed depressions in the desert and mark them on survey maps. The depressions are watched by a combination of weather satellites and aerial drone networks for signs of water breaches. If needed, they can utilize both the water and the natural life in and around these pools.

This careful vigilance has been a part of their history since the colony's early days and has ensured that it thrived and survived the trying, fiery heat of the suns.”

The drone camera view fades out, and when it returns, it is looking down on another Oasis. This oasis is a large, deep, stone bowl-like pool with water bubbling up from the center.

Several large tanker trucks with massive fat tires ride atop the sand and sit at the edge this time, draining some of the water out. The Oasis water level dips to about half its original depth in less than an hour between the trucks before they stop and disconnect the hoses. Workers in dull brown full-body suits pack hoses and equipment, and the trucks carefully back out from the oasis and drive off into the desert.

“Here we see some locals familiar with the temporary patterns produced by the wandering water tables taking advantage of a pop-up Oasis. They never take more than half, leaving the rest for wildlife and using the water they take to help nourish the larger arthropod herds they nurture along the landscape.”

The view fades out as the trucks drive away in a cloud of dust, then slowly comes back in on a convoy parked for the night, with dimmed camp lights surrounding the vehicles.

In the shadows, vigilant watchers wearing thermal goggles sit atop the vehicles in the darkest parts of the camp. Each of them armed with what appears to be rifles and other weapons resting in their hands or nearby as they look out across the desert.

“Some of the locals can be seen in their night camp. This group, in particular, is one of several herding groups that use specialized vehicles to follow the large arthropods across the desert. These fantastic, large creatures and the locals herding them are a source of occasional controversy in political and social circles.

Opponents claim that the tolerance of these arthropods, which closely resemble Terminids that Super Earth has been fighting since the ‘First Galactic War’, is a sign of disloyalty, a lack of faith in Super Earth, a lack of democratic will, and a necessary devotion to human supremacy. However, their proponents have countered that not only are the arthropod groups carefully monitored, controlled, and harvested by the locals, but they have also proven to be highly profitable to various investors. This act demonstrates that the citizens of Klendath II are loyal to Super Earth, Democracy, and human supremacy.” The drone view switches to a daytime scene. Several trucks, some with large emitter-like devices on their roofs, are on the far-out skirts of a large group of arthropods as they move through the desert. The trucks are maintaining a relatively sedate pace, slowing to match the herd's own pace as they head for shelter from the day's high heat.

The drone's view pans up across the dust trails from the vehicles and the herd, then peers ahead to a large rocky outcropping with ample shade and a likely source of water.

The view switches again to a drone looking back on the advancing herd. In the lead are small, fast figures blurred by the dust and their desert-like coloration.

The flying camera easily outpaces the herd and turns to look ahead. The herd's destination can be seen through a zoomed-in view of the camera's optics. Ahead, a low-profile vehicle with a faint dust plume rising behind it as it races ahead of the herd.

“Here we see one of the traditional practices of the locals since the early adoption of shepherding these large arthropods. The rocky outcrop ahead will provide shelter, one of the herd's known stopping points along this particular migration route. These fast vehicles and their occupants are advanced scouts moving ahead to ensure no predators have set up an ambush to attack this group. They are also looking for hazards to avoid, as the herds have tremendous momentum and don’t always avoid dangers that could harm their numbers. Such care is taken because this herd has reached a sufficient population density that has been earmarked for harvest.

Since they selectively harvest from them, they don't want their numbers depleted by predators along the way and do their best to fend off the aggressive, well-honed hunters of this desert world.”

The drone view switches to one of the small scout vehicles as it has stopped far in advance of the herd. The vehicle is parked on the lee of a hill, putting it at an angle. Sitting on top of a flat, open platform on their vehicle, which resembles an enlarged dune buggy with extra-large tires, one of the occupants can be seen looking through a pair of electronically enhanced binoculars.

The other looks through a large rifle scope mounted on the top of a very long-barreled rifle-like weapon. The long-barreled weapon is over a meter long and large in caliber, with a bolt-action lever sticking out the side.

The camera can barely pick up a faint conversation between the two as they appear to discuss what they're looking at. There is a final bit of words that the camera still can't make out before the person behind the rifle reaches down and plucks a single cartridge from a leg pouch, placing it in the rifle and closing the bolt with a solid clack. The camera view switches to a view transmitted from the scope. The scout with the heavy rifle is tracking a large circling form over the edges of the local herd. The winged form is massive from the perspective of the scope. The rifle scope scrolls details and information in a stream of data. A targeting carrot circles around the form before tightening around it into a blinking red outline. Suddenly, the sight bucks violently, and something can be seen streaking out. As it flies out, petal-like structures fly off in several directions as the small speeding dot lances into the distance. A moment later, there is a large puff of red mist, feathers, and mangled flesh. The large flying creature is now a corpse that has been knocked into a wildly tumbling spiral into the herd, where several scavengers pounce on it, and it soon disappears.

The camera view returns to an overlook high above the rocky outcrop. The dust plume of the herd covers a noticeable portion of the horizon, and the smaller plumes of the escorting herders ride alongside. The drone picks up the sound of the scout vehicle's engine firing up and driving away at speed. “The scout guard has tried to use shrieker sonic rounds and pyrotechnic rounds to warn the predator off. However, its stubborn persistence sealed its fate. Such persistent predators preying on herded arthropod groups are soon dispatched, often to be devoured by the herd. The locals take few risks with the herds they look after, guarding them zealously as they are part of their way of life.”

A new view appears as a drone rises over a plateau. The scene is a nomadic encampment on the edge of one of several canyons. Along the edge of the canyons, you see several crane-like devices extended over the rim of the canyon, lowering individuals in cradles down long cables to the canyon floors.

Small encampments of dome-like structures are settled into natural depressions or in the lee of rocky formations, scattered nearby, with trails of smoke and steam rising from them.

The view again switches to other drones down in the canyon that seem to follow the workers as they go about their duties. There, the workers take tools and harvest various plants and animal life. Another crew follows behind, replanting multiple plant species from seedlings they had harvested earlier.

The mature plants are put into pouches tied around each person's waist. When the worker's pouches are filled, they are hung from hooks that hang down from the crane hoists above. When enough pouches are hanging on a hook, they are reeled up and collected, and empty bags are sent down until they have finished collecting for the day.

“Here we see an ongoing harvesting project. This is one of the pop-up flash canyons; the plant life here anchors itself to the stone and can survive flash floods that would dislodge a building. These plants, in particular, serve as a common source of fiber used in construction and as insulation.

Just a bushel of these plants, when processed and spun out to fibers, can produce several thousand feet of thread. The fine strand, when treated, can be a stronger steel, fire-resistant, and waterproof. These threads are often used in clothing, armor, building materials, and various other uses.”

The camera view pans out, showing about 30 vehicles scattered across several miles of the canyon rim, participating in the harvest operation. The camera rotates slowly in place, spots of gleam in the distance lighting up a large glass dome.

The camera begins to accelerate rapidly in the direction of the glint of light. The gleam changed from a glint of light to shapes that grew in detail as the camera approached, revealing a sizable glass-surfaced dome in the desert.

“Here we see one of the colonies' other long-standing traditions. The early settlers had to set up various protected hydroponic projects to feed the colony. This one is one of the larger projects.

It is one of the few deep well locations not located in a major city, but not far from one. It is a deep agrodome that harvests sunlight through an array of collectors and reflectors to fill a vertically deep farm surface, providing a significant portion of food stock.

Although it may appear to be a couple of hundred meters in diameter, this farm could not support half of a city's population with foodstuffs and plant-related goods.

However, what you don't see is that the farm descends nearly half a kilometer.

It utilizes a series of carefully placed solar collectors, reflectors, and other arrays paired with solar power and UV lighting underground. All this light gathering and power generation provides sufficient sunlight and grow lights to grow a sizable underground crop.”

The camera switches to a drone inside the dome as it is descending a deep, brightly lit central shaft. A dazzling array of reflectors bounces light from one highly polished surface to another, scattering sunlight across reflective surfaces on the interior and providing natural sunlight deep underground.

As the light gradually becomes more diffuse, solar collectors and solar panels become more visible as the light intensity begins to fade. There are increasingly fewer reflective surfaces as they are replaced by solar panels and other similar surfaces that collect power.

Finger-thick power cables snake away to several rows of batteries that stretch into the distance, fading into black. The only indication of powered human-made objects are the blinking indicator lights and dimly glowing readout panels.

The camera drone continues to float down, turning to look beneath it. The key part of the structure that makes the whole vertical hydroponic farm possible comes into view.

At the bottom, seen through transparent aluminum glass, a deep well of dark water roils. With only the shallow surface of the pool being translucent and clear, the deeper, darker water in the tank turns a deep cobalt blue.

Feedlines can be seen extending from inside the tank to a series of pumps located around the edges, which then supply the hydroponic farms above.

“This deep natural aquifer location helps constantly feed these plants. Moisture reclamation and preservation techniques ensure this valuable natural resource is maintained at sustainable levels in the long term.

For example, the natural sweating of much plant life creates condensation on various surfaces. The nearest devices built into the plant beds help collect this condensate as a form of distillation and then run it through a system of filters. This collected water is stored in retention tanks and saved for later use.

The natural evaporation of water from the soil, plants, and watering system creates water vapor, which in turn forms more condensation that is collected on prepared surfaces and stored in retention tanks.

There are several more of these wondrous structures located near the cities they supply. Each one of them is a bulwark bolstering the colony's supply independence and making it a profitable location in the Super Earth sphere of influence”.

The camera then transfers back to the drone flying over the dome, looking several kilometers away at a large, sprawling City that wasn’t previously included in earlier camera views.

“Here we have the site of one of the first landings on the planet. Early settlement teams established this settlement after they set down at the designated landing site and made the first permanent landing on the planet.

Sitting deep beneath this glittering man-made oasis of glass, metal, and locally made concrete-like substances is a vast water table.

The ones under these locations in other cities are not part of the roving water table; they remain static, but Exogeologists believe they are fed from far deeper and vast water systems.

These cities are what permitted the early settlers to begin pursuing their unique trade and surviving on this harsh world. Their structures and dwellings are crafted to work with the limitations imposed by the local environment. For example not only are the buildings crafted to retain little of the daily heat from the exposure to the sun with a combinatio of coloration and materials but many of these structures are rounded and created in such a way as to permit the wind to flow across them evenly without creating hurricane like currents through the settled areas.

The downside is that the settled regions' layouts, not encased under protective domes, tend to create weaving, meandering streets. While challenging to navigate for anyone unfamiliar with the local areas, they act as natural windbreaks, redirecting forceful winds in non-destructive directions.

The winding streets lead to unique structures and patterns of building, creating unique layouts that use a combination of sometimes complex geometries, but also winding paths between buildings that create smaller wind tunnels that power wind turbines for added power generation.”

The camera fades out again, and when it comes back, it is looking at a sizeable military fortification somewhere in the desert.

Alongside the flapping flags of Super Earth and the colony's flags are brightly colored flags of golden red, featuring the skull emblem. Emblazoned proudly below is the 95th Division Roughnecks.

“We come at last to one of the more famous portions of Klendath II’s history and enduring legacy—the local regional headquarters for the 95th Division, currently known as ‘Rods Roughnecks’.

This storied unit fought during the ‘First Galactic War’ on this very planet. When the non-native arthropod species later to be known as the Terminids made planetfall, the Roughnecks held the line along with several other units, and a bloody, lengthy battle for the world.

By the end, the Super Earth forces were the last ones standing. Their enemies had been devastated, and they're battered ruin were scattered across the desert sands.

Locals and members of the 95th Division alike reported a unique phenomenon during the heights of combat.

The local large arthropod strain did not take kindly to the intrusion of these Galactic Invaders and attacked them with ferocity. Often striking them from behind or below.

The burrowing foe had no place to hide. At the same time, the valiant forces of Super Earth ruled the surface, battering the enemy into bloody pieces across the sand.

The local species carried out a brutal war beneath, caving in nests and destroying whole broods, driving them onto the surface into the guns of the human defenders.

The locals in the 95th division make no mistake; they understand that these are wild animals that just happened to react to a local hostile invader at an opportune moment. Still, they have the thanks of the locals and even members of the 95th who have stayed on since the end of that conflict.

Some say it is this unintended alliance of convenience and coincidence that ensures the locals take care of the local herds and groups of large arthropods.

Regardless of views, opinions, or the facts, the 95th division has remained on this world and continues to operate from its surface”.

The camera view pans out and looks across a vast stretch of desert to an elevated plateau above the dusty sands, not far from the fort. Several tent-like shelters with dome-shaped roofs can be seen anchored to the surface of the plateau.

Several groups of troops wearing combat fatigues commonly worn by the S.E.A.F. Army Corps and the Helldivers Corps, local to Klendath II, can be seen doing conditioning exercises in what appears to be the late afternoon, as the heat decreases.

“The local regular military forces and members of the Helldivers Corps stationed here on the planet are engaging in conditioning exercises. The planet's brutal heat requires several weeks of conditioning before individuals are reasonably acclimated to the climate.

The various troops will conduct conditioning exercises, marches during both day and night, combat drills, survival training, and a range of other training regimens. Once they have completed their training and are appropriately considered acclimated under the watchful eye of the 95th Division's Acclimation Training Command, these troops are put through a basic survival test out in the desert for three nights.

If they pass with satisfaction, they are sent on to their next duty station on the planet to begin their long tenure on this hot world.

Those who fail are recycled through the training program until they complete the training successfully or wash out and are sent to another world and unit. While the training command takes pains to avoid unnecessary casualties, this is Klendathu II —a harsh world of danger and hazards.

Every training cycle, an average of 10 troops are severely injured or killed. Of those numbers, the majority are from off-world. The locals often train from a young age in the same skill sets and live and breathe the desert on this world are far less likely to fall victim to its harsh conditions, but even they are not immune to the whims of nature and the harshness of the world.”

The camera view shifts to another time-lapse showing night falling over the training camp, with a few lights from the tents. If you watch, you can see posts that play searchlights across the desert sands below the plateau; others scan the night sky, vigilant even in the cool darkness.

“This current batch of troops seen on the plateau is waiting for their turn in the latest test group. Once this group has returned and the pass or fail groups have been tallied, the next group will prepare to move out into the desert for their testing and training.

Whether recruiting from locals or bringing in off-world talent, this world breeds fierce, determined, and formidable warriors for the military machine of Super Earth.

The fictionalized story of the 95th Division is depicted in the classic film ‘Spaceship Soldiers’. Available from your nearest entertainment kiosk.”

The camera view slowly rotates away from the searchlight-lit military camp, looking out onto the dark desert and glancing upwards to see the stars.

“Humanity has survived and thrived on this world. Per aspera ad astra, and they continue to brave the desert sands and the myriad of wildlife that dots the world. Through all the hazards, we survive and thrive on this world.

Thank you for joining me tonight for a brief overview of this world and its story.

I would like you to join me and my colleagues as we explore this wild and unusual world together. And together, we shall walk through…”

The scene fades to the title card of the series.

“The Gardens of the Terminids.”

#fanfic #my writing #scifi #video games #worldbuilding

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nightmarefuele · 1 year ago

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Ruffling her feathers. Rustling through the dead-leaf bank that seems as if to clutter her nimble tongue, and staunch whatever disruption sputters there, past her throat. Places where dermis pinkens and pulse quickens. The body is a lair, after all. This hesitating does not surprise him —

The shop is a receding bustle outside the pressure-folds of their alcove. Beyond the binds of his question. Eyes. They vivisect, relinquishing nothing. Beth belongs in a vial. Briefly, he wonders about the chemical signature that fear leaves behind in the wake of perspiration, and what might her closeness smell like, refined thusly?

— that she services him with an answer, does.

Glasses go to hair. (His eyes lift apace with this. 'Stalling tactics. Furtive movements.') His pen disappears between folded, slender, delicate hands. Listening.

It isn't entirely what he expects. Expect. As if he's wondered. Bath. There's a reflection of amusement across his face. Like a light that strides across a night-hour pond. Has he? (It's in his own breathing — expectation. Her 'too close,' living night come to ensconce his ventricles in cavity of awakened stillness.) Jonathan watches her hands. His eyes rest there like unlit embers, chafing the skin. Curling fingers — So diminutive. Saint-Saëns. His lips experience their own softness, pulling up on the stroke of her clarification: Jasmine. Jonathan carries his embers up to the sloping ridge across which her pulse carries her fretful nervous. There is a similar sort of pulsing in his jaw. No heat or passion. Uncomfortable. Furtive movements.

And sin. Jonathan Crane doesn't answer to sin.

' "Quiet, Jonny. Shush. You know what happens when you're bad. You did it anyway." '

Ah. Doesn't answer to sin, Jonathan thinks, does he?

' "I will not repeat myself to insolent little boys." '

Jonathan recalls the clatter of wooden bar over door. And then the crows come, to pluck out his soul.

The way he smiles is reflexive. Beth would find it is not to spite her, and in fact is joyless. He questions how she might be so skilled at tempting the subject matter back toward his parentage at every other turn. Which personal memory of your father stands out as the most formative? How would you describe your mother, using three words? He questions why she's so tenacious.

Father: Perhaps when he told me he was proud of me — after introducing himself. Perhaps when I nearly killed him.

Mother: Fickle. Deficient. Dead.

'What was the first . . .' is not the same question. Suppose it had been, and provided in its asking the manner through which he might refuse. Would that he had a better riposte above wordless, wintry staring.

Because Jonathan's eyes are dilated things. Not for lack of composure — he is rigid in his impassivity. He might be thinking backward in time; except that he does not need to. He might be questioning whether it was worth it: acquiescing to Beth Riley's proposal of partnership.

He inhales and scatters 'might be's' to the wind. A lack of that typical, procedural smoothness about his diaphragm; a tautness between lips, as he wets them. "About as pleasant," he says, finally, and pauses, just so, to ensure his meaning goes unmissed, "an experience as yours. I —"

Fuck. Shut your mouth. It's more physical demand than instinct. There's an uncanny sort of dissonance, which occurs when the body is locked away from the mind: Trauma, or a related memory, or even a sound can produce that high. As pure and enduring a source as any drug — more so. A psychopharmacologist's dream. He feels the pallor as it seeps through his face, his fingers. He feels the cold in his fingers and the sting of corvids' mandibles, and the vile violence of old hands, clutching where they should not be.

Clinically. Everything that comes is so, very clinical, locked behind the frozen slates that regard Beth. His jawline is too tight. Tendons along his neck, too pronounced. He wore a dress shirt, no jacket. He's undressed.

Parasympathetic response. Acetylcholine. He pictures the flood from release to blood vessels. He pictures just how much it must take. He knows his thoughts are distorted, but he doesn't need to think to know it's been over a decade, since last he felt so much. More gold in her irises than I thought there was. Between the honey, and green.

His tongue clicks. But the sound is . . . soft.

"I. Understand."

Furtive movements, now, are locked away under rigidity. He speaks very prudently, but with indubitable exactness. He does not retract his gaze.

"The sensation of . . . violation, that permeates your own body." (Waiting. Breathing.) "You. 'Sin.' Where did that start?"

The sound is soft.

@nightmarefuele may have had a certain Corvid-Boy ask how often does she self-pleasure....for science, of course.

To Add a Little Spice || -

In an instant Beth comes to several different conclusions after he crisply bites out each word of the question. The first is that she is grateful they occupy space in a coffee shop that lies in a triangle between his place, her place, and the university library where they'd begun this latest assignment. An exercise in verbal intimacy and navigating emotional openness in a clinical setting. Becoming familiar and empathetic toward one's patients. The second is that despite being at this for over two hours, the permafrost in his gaze remains. A shiver runs down her spine. One that tasks her will not to allow be visible, though maybe if she weren't wearing her knee-length cardigan, he'd see the rush of chicken-skin it provokes. Third is that this is the first time in weeks she's seen a touch of amusement curve his lips. By no means a full smile, there's a grim sort of tilt to his mouth. Something she'd more likely call smug than welcoming. Beth considers refusing him an answer. There are hundreds of other questions on the list that they'd been given. It would only be fair as Jonathan at various intervals refused certain ones; anything about his family. Anything regarding his childhood in general. Not that she blames him, her first refusal came over the question about the relationship she has with her parents. Sea is her mother. The earth is her tutu. He would likely never understand what she means by that and it skirts too close to a truth that can not ~must not~ be spoken aloud. Not that he'd believe her if she told him. He's too much a creature of logic and reason. Even if she were to flay him down to the bone, down to the soul, Beth would be hard-pressed to find any wonder at all in him. Jonathan isn't an old man for banality to have him so tightly in its claws. She picks through the ways she could answer him. How truthful she's willing to be. She can't quite shake the feeling that she's going to both bore him but also make him question how many of the rumours are true. Will he ask about her brother, then? Make a lot of the same assumptions? If she were anyone else, would she do the same? Will he think she's frigid? Disdainful of anyone she deems beneath her and not in the way meant in later questions? Will he think she's lying? Their notes aren't due for review until next week. Maybe she could suggest reconvening? No, that would be a victory for him. Knowing he got the better of her. Beth sighs. Leans forward and picks her chai off the table and takes a sip. She looks at Jonathan's hands ~elegant, aren't they? expressive~ at his notes, at everything but his eyes, vivid behind his glasses. She takes hers off and perches them in her hair. She can almost hear him purr the words 'staling tactics and furtive movements'. "I…uh….I tried it once. Alone one night, anxious an' maybe a small kine irritable. Night was too hot, too close. Almost felt…alive. I'd try yoga, a bath…." She enunciates the word pitifully so there is no misconstruing her meeting. Her hands end up folding in her lap, knuckles fitted together, fingers upward and curled before lacing together. Her pulse ticks at her throat. Her breath is shallow, uneven. "Swimmin' in da indoor pool. Reading. All da usual sort of t'ings, right? An' jus….put on some music. Saint-Saëns ~ Le Cygne, f'ya curious. Poured myself some wine, lit some pikake flower candles. Uh…jasmine. Dat's what pikake means. I pick up my phone, look at some videos jus' so I had an idea. But….but it no work f' me, you know? No reaction suppose t' have. No heat or passion, no…you know. If anyt'ing it was awkward. Uncomfortable." Her voice lowers to just a bare movement of her lips. "Guilty. Sinful." She swallows and shrugs, now not looking at anything but her hands, almost accusatory. "Don' see a point in it. Don' really see one to any of dat." Now he knows. Now he can dissect her, make fun of the fact that she's … "Wha' ya firs' memory of bein' sexually 'roused?"

#: 𝒹𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓂𝓎 𝑜𝓅𝒾𝓃𝒾𝑜𝓃 #brooklynislandgirl #v. 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝓇𝓂𝓈 𝑒𝓃𝒻𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓂. 𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓁𝑒𝑒𝓅𝓈.#tw: sa mention

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fischotterkunst · 3 years ago

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im thinking way too much about Chocobos bc video game creature design is my jam and birds are my jam and also i just got finished writing a lecture so brain is in Lecture Mode, and i'm noticing something very peculiar about their design.

the first thing that got me is their feet. these examples are from FFVII and FFXIV, but the design is consistent as far as i'm aware throughout every iteration. they have foot structures unlike literally anything i'm aware of in the natural world:

this structure with two toes facing forward and one facing back seems unique to Chocobos, and i started thinking about what kind of lifestyle would cause them to evolve such an unusual arrangement.

here is a very excellent diagram of modern bird foot structure (source below image also links to highly informative twitter thread if anyone is interested in further reading):

(source)

following these real-world patterns, we can see that the primary purpose of the backwards-facing toe, the hallux, is grasping [prey] and perching. this is a very significant digit, and we can see clearly that Chocobos do possess one. however, in species adapted to a lifestyle on the ground, eg. flightless birds, a long hallux is a hazard as it could easily be broken or cause tripping if it gets snagged on the ground. therefore the group of birds most well-adapted to running rather than flying, the Struthioniformes, show different foot structures in which the hallux has receded altogether, as seen on the left. Ostriches are the only bird in the world with didactyly, having only two toes as seen on the right.

(source)(source)

the interesting thing about Struthioniformes is that they are typically herbivorous in addition to being flightless, further removing the need for the hallux. there are, of course, other modern birds adapted to running that do display anisodactyly, such as the Seriema, or zygodactyly, such as the Roadrunner. a major difference in Seriemas and Roadrunners as opposed to Struthioniformes other than the ability to fly is that these birds are carnivorous.

(do you see where i'm going with this yet?)

something else about Chocobos strikes me as odd, and that's their beaks. this is where, unlike their feet, their design does vary from game to game, but a particular feature from more modern iterations, such as the FFIIV remake and FFXI, stands out to me.

i'm talking about the shape of their beak, and also that little hook on the bottom of their upper mandible. that's called the Tomium, and we see it in several classes of modern birds as well as some other animals like turtles. its function is serration of either flesh or vegetation. you can see it on this Red-tailed Hawk (left) as well as this Lear's Macaw (right):

(source) (source)

as both source links do a fantastic job of explaining, the differences in the hawk's beak designed for tearing flesh and the parrot's bill for tearing fruit are most evident in the variations on their shape and their relation to their skulls - the short of it is that the shorter skull of the parrot and its more dramatic overbite allow greater prying leverage against the shells of fruit and nuts, whereas the length of the hawk's skull and beak lend to ripping and cutting.

it does appear, interestingly, that different iterations of the Chocobo's beak fall along different points of the scale between the hawk beak and the parrot bill, but it looks to me that generally the Chocobo has a more uniform mandible size and longer skull. while the tomium, as i mentioned, can be used for tearing grasses like those that Chocobos are typically fed in various games, the scissorlike shape of the Chocobo's beak looks as though it would lend itself much more readily to tearing meat.

thus my study can be boiled down to two major factors based on Chocobo's design vs. evolutionary design: 1) the hallux is necessary for grasping, and Chocobos possess a hallux, and since they are flightless and do not need to perch, it stands to reason that the hallux must be needed for holding onto prey; and 2) the presence of the tomium combined with the shape of the Chocobo's skull indicates a meat-based diet.

i think now is a good time to introduce the Phorusrhacids, more commonly known as "Terror Birds". thankfully for us, these carnivorous flightless birds are now extinct, but the largest of their species could be up to 10 feet tall and dined on the ancestors of modern horses and deer. to support this lifestyle, they evolved strong anisodactyl feet for grasping prey and a strong curved beak for tearing it into bite-sized chunks. here is a reconstructed skeleton of a Terror Bird species, specifically Titanis walleri:

(source)

and here is an artist's rendition according to modern scientific understanding of the closely related Paraphysornis brasiliensis:

(source)

THAT SURE LOOKS FAMILIAR, DOESNT IT??

in conclusion, i think Chocobos are carnivores and may be Final Fantasy's modern living relatives of Terror Birds. thank you for coming to my TED talk. if you read this whole thing, please know that i love you and you are welcome to message me your favorite color so i can draw a Chocobo just for you <3

#river babbles #creature design #chocobo #chocobos #final fantasy

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meggannn · 3 years ago

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Tides, Receding: Chapter 6 Shepard/Garrus | 44k (wip) | teen

With the Hierarchy alliance secured, Garrus submits his request to leave the Normandy and rejoin Primarch Victus’s complement, shipping back to a Palaven set ablaze. Shepard, unraveling at the seams, must make a long-overdue decision.

Chapter 6

“Vakarian.” She gestured to the seat across from her. “We have some housekeeping items to discuss.”

“Do we?” Garrus asked cautiously, taking it. He broke the bones of whatever he was eating—it looked a bit like a black turkey leg—and waited obligingly.

Humor. He liked humor. Start with that. “As a new contractor onboard the Normandy, we should review the terms of your duties here.”

His mandibles flared. She interpreted that as something between amused and exasperated, but as usual with turians, the range of a single movement was often too wide to pinpoint with confidence.

“For one, your seniority begins tracking on your first day. Contract work does not take any prior service with Alliance military into account.”

“Since I’m not Alliance, I never qualified for time-in-grade promotions anyway.” Garrus passed the ball back, unimpressed, before stripping off a chunk of the meat. “But nice try.”

#megan writes fic #shakarian #shepard #garrus vakarian

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tofiqbohra11 · 7 months ago

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maxillsurgery · 11 months ago

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beautiless · 3 years ago

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i have one of the most considered “ugly” can someone have which is receded chin and the fact it’s considered deformity makes me want to unlive myself

im struggle so hard to let go of wanting to be beautiful but i cant when i have this thing it’s driving insane

do you have tips or anything to say i would really really need it rn 💕

oh i'm so sorry you're feeling like that :( i really get it, i obsess over my supposed flaws like crazy too... sometimes i'll literally be sitting by myself doing whatever and suddenly i start spiralling into that kind of thought, that i must somehow fix myself right now bc how dare i exist in an "ugly" state

do you watch a lot of tiktok? bc i swear never did i give a second thought to chin shapes before i started seeing shit about it there, these stupid body trends are really out of control. i think as long as your mandible placement isn't causing you health issues (in which case you can get braces if i'm not wrong?), it's just a characteristic like any other: pointy noses, wide foreheads, etc. just because people are calling it a "deformity" doesn't mean there's anything wrong with it. i know it must be hard to hear them refer to it that way though :(

this may be TMI but one of my biggest insecurities is my labia shape, which isn't helped AT ALL by plastic surgeons calling visible labia minora "hypertrophied", as if it was a horrible disfigurement. but it's not. it's funny how we can obsess over random, specific body parts, isn't it?

i'm sorry if i'm just rambling, but something that does help me sometimes is thinking about the infinite inscurities different people have: just as i never think about people's chins, some people find it insane to worry about labia shape. i know people who are insecure of their hands or even their nails, and i know for a fact i personally would never think of judging theirs... so in the end, everything is just a characteristic. a neutral state.

i know face insecurities may be harder to overcome this way, because your face is usually much more tied to your identity, so here's a last thought: i have a cat with very weird, asymmetrical markings on her face. i don't think much about it but sometimes i see her reflection on the mirror and it really stands out when flipped. she's also the loveliest creature in the entire world :) her little face, unique as it is, is very dear to me. and i hope people who love me will see my unique face the same way.

#i really hope i could help somehow #beauty industry #anti beauty industry

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introvert-celeste · 4 years ago

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TOH Spoilers

I have so much I want to say about Knock, Knock, Knockin' on Hooty's Door (which is a damn mouthful), but the first thing I'd like to discuss is the flashback/dream with Eda's dad.

First of all, here's some random thoughts I have about this scene:

So, Dell Clawthorne. I wonder if "Dell" is short for anything; seeing as the rest of his family has their own nicknames ("Gwen" for Gwendolyn, "Lily" for Lilith, and "Eda" for Edalyn), it's definitely possible. I also have to wonder what he's going out to do, since they mention that he's traveling to the mandible for awhile, which is another name for the jawbone. In other words, he's traveling to the base of the Titan's skull, which seems like a very important location in the isles. Just something that might be noteworthy in the future.

It was absolutely heartbreaking how Eda ran up and hugged him, saying "it's so good to see you again." I get the impression that, while she's had to deal with her mother every year for the past 3 decades, she hasn't seen her father in all this time. She blames the owl beast as the reason why she "never got close to anyone" but that isn't exactly true.

She completely loses control and claws his eye, just like that, and all it took was one little firework to trigger it. She never got close to anyone because she didn't want to hurt the people she cared about, because she saw the owl beast as something to be ashamed of, to fear. It's no wonder her relationship with Raine didn't work out; she would rather hide the severity of her curse and pretend that everything is fine rather than rope them into this mess.

This scene also makes the flashback from Keeping Up A-Fear-Ances all the more painful, and pretty much explains Gwen's desire to get rid of the curse by any means necessary. While it still isn't okay and Eda was completely entitled to feel upset, Gwen is also justifiably upset, especially if this event took place immediately after the attack. The safety of her family is at stake, after all. She doesn't want Eda to suffer, as transforming into the owl beast is obviously very painful and distressing, but she also doesn't want her to hurt anyone else. What happened to Dell was bad enough.

It's already obvious that she wouldn't blame Eda for this incident at all, but I like how you see Gwen run to Dell's side, look at Eda, and as the flashback recedes, Eda says "it wasn't your fault" in her mother's cadence. Maybe that wasn't intentional, but I just like how those elements mesh together, and I would hope that Gwen would immediately try to comfort Eda even as she's tending to her husband.

All in all, I'm seriously looking forward to seeing all the Clawthornes together again and I can't wait to properly meet Dell.

#the owl house #toh spoilers #eda clawthorne #dell clawthorne #gwen clawthorne #lilith clawthorne #toh analysis

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ofpolyhex · 3 years ago

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Some ‘bots clearly aren’t designed to comfortably deal with the soaring temperatures.

A trio of inquisitive crawlers approach the slumbering heap of limbs and rotors, only to flinch and scuttle away as it lurches onto its side, its head darting out. Whirl blindly snaps their mandibles at the receding signatures and honks in defeat. There goes lunch.

They stretch out their legs and sprawl on their front, their heat sinks flared open and throttled at full power. Considering the air they’re drawing in is just as hot as the air they’re venting, it doesn’t help much.

Now they’re fully awake, and feeling appropriately prickly.

“Is it possible to, like, turn the entire planet’s temperature down or something?”

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 5 years ago

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Humans are Space Orcs, “Crew of the Omen.”

A little bit from the other new alien species aboard the ship, as requested. I hope you like it :)

Tesraki

The Tesraki had all worked with humans before, but when they mean they had worked with humans, it was more like they had been around in the area where humans were working and mostly tried to stay out of their way. Between the two younger Tesraki Captio and Subit, they talked a lot about how the soldier Tesraki, Etium had been involved in the Drev war..

They weren’t entirely sure if that was true or not seeing as there were very few Tesraki who had actually survived an encounter with the Drev, but the chunk missing from his ear, and the way he seemed to show so much deference to the humans when they first stepped aboard the ship.

Than and he didn’t seem as afraid of them as the two younger Tesraki were.

And there was a lot to be afraid of

Stepping aboard the human ship, it became very clear that they were entering a different world.

They huddled together behind Etium, their ears drawn back to their heads, their tails tucked together as they stood before the massive room watching as large machines and hovering trucks rolled by. The human voices were raised, yelling up over each other in their guttural chattering call. They had been on the ship before of course, but this would be the first time the doors would be shut behind them.

A group of humans stepped past them, their large armored feet clattering against the ground, their bodies moving like lithe snakes.

There was a lot of money being moved here, and a lot of money being moved very poorly, though none of them were quite sure how to bring that up.

“New meat!”

They turned on the spot to see a human sitting cross legged atop a cargo crate. It showed them his teeth. The two younger Tesraki squealed and backed away hiding behind the older as they looked up at the grinning predator above them.

Etium seemed to be the only one who wasn’t concerned.

“M-meat.” One of them whispered

He wasn’t aware the word accountant meant something different in their culture… that being that they were going to get eaten.

The human slipped down from where he was sitting to land on the floor.

The Tesraki squealed again and backed away.

“Fresh meat is a figure of speech. Just means you are new on the ship. We don’t eat sentient lifeforms.”

They couldn’t help but notice that he left out the non-sentient lifeforms. When the humans looked at them, they looked at them hungrily, like maybe fresh meat had not been some sort of figure of speech like it was claiming. Still, they kept relatively quiet unsure of what to believe.

“Don’t listen to them, they just like to mess with people.”

The Tesraki turned in a sharp circle watching as another human came marching up through the ship long fur billowing about their head.

“They don’t mean any harm. It's just a social hazing ritual they like.”

“I am familiar.”

The two younger tesraki glanced at Etium ears pulled back.

That would have been nice to know earlier.

They looked back, watching as the doors receded into the distance, and knew they were walking into a den of predators.

Celzex

Everything here was big, very big, and it sort of managed to make them very angry. They marched onto the ship, though their marching didn’t get them more than a few feet onto the human ship before they almost got stepped on by a marching column of humans. They froze in place led by their leader who stood tall before them, the very real son of lord Celex, Lord Avex.

He waited, and they waited, for his great stature to attract the attention of the humans.

Of course, it did not take long until his presence stopped another column of humans bringing cargo in from the other side of the hanger. They drew to a halt just before the Celzex, their eyes widening in fear. A few of them made vocalizations of confusion and intimidation, that manifested as very high pitched squeals for a human. They lifted their hands before their faces and chest as if to guard themselves from the danger that the Celzex possessed.

“Lord Avex, we were told of your imminent arrival.” One of the humans announced bowing his head, “There was an…. Extensive briefing about how to treat your eminence.” They bowed their heads in that way humans tend to have to show difference towards their betters.

“Please, allow me and my comrades to escort you to your quarters.” The humans lowered themselves slightly towards the ground, dropping onto one knee, “As a sign of difference to your great status please use these men as your mounts, for the ship is large and we have a long way to go.

There was a silence as Lord Avex waited eyeing the humans with some concern.

They were a proud race.

From the corners of their eyes, the Celzex could see the humans shifting nervously, probably out of fear and awe to how great and terrible the Celzex truly were in such numbers.

“We will accept your offer, human.”

The humans prostrated themselves even further, lowering towards the ground so the Celzex could blimp aboard, first onto their knees and then onto their backs, and then onto their shoulders as they took back to their feet.

From the back of a human they were very high up, and very impressive.

Lord Avex was sure that their group cut a very imposing parade across the ship. The Celzex atop their human mounds, two of the most dangerous species in the galaxy.

And they did turn more than a few heads as they went, with wide eyes and open mouths the other humans stared and made similar sounds of awe and fear as had the others.

The humans on which they rode appeared more than smug, their head lifted pridefully clearly pleased at those they were able to carry.

It was a great honor after all, and who could blame them for thinking so.

The other humans must have been jealous to ferry along such important figures as the Celzex.

And of course they were eventually brought to their quarters on one of the middle decks. It had all the things that they requested, and promised access to a human 24/7 if required.

One of the humans bowed their head to lored Avex, “My lord, Admiral Vir was sorry he could not be here to witness your glorious arrival. He sends his deepest apologies and an invitation to a meal tonight as a human show of good faith. Also, due to his laxness and improper greeting he would be more than willing to act as your steed whenever you wish for his insolence and penance.

Lord Avex found this to be an agreeable apology.

Somewhere Adam Vir was quite pleased with himself for coming up with such a smooth reason to hold a Celzex, while continuing to maintain interspecies relations with one of the most powerful species on the planet.

Burg

Maverick was surprised to find people in the chapel when she walked aboard, less of people and more of an alien and a few people when she stepped in. She was even more surprised to find that this particular alien was not a Tesraki, or a Celex, but a bug-like creature with sharp mandibles, and an array of colorful wings.

“Burg!”

She said the phrase out loud, surprising herself and the burg, who nearly leaped out of it’s own carapace as it turned to look at her. Its wings were a pleasant blue color shot through with little streaks of brilliant green.

It rested a few of its front hands together and bowed to her as she pulled to a stop, “Greetings, I am Miran, religious scholar of the burg and a social envoy of the new king and queen of the burg homeworld. I am here to foster a mending of relations between our two species and contribute some of our knowledge and culture to your endeavors.”

Maverick lowered her hands.

“I see, I wasn’t aware that the Burg were part of the GA.”

The creature sat on one of the pews, “We are not, formally, but we have since updated our status as a protectorate of the GA while we attempt to mend things between ourselves. Forgive me for startling you so, but I had hoped that you might accept my help in your religious gathering room. During our time of war, the old queen tasked me with learning about your species, and in so doing I fell upon your thriving religious culture that reminded me of the stories of our own before the queen abolished much of our tradition.”

“A burg who is a religious scholar…. I would not have assumed that.”

“And what denomination do you frequent?” He wondered looking at her with expectant eyes and a surprisingly open face for a creature she had once thought to be hideous and gut churning. The butterfly wings helped she supposed, “A random flavor of Christian, though it’s not really important.” She walked over to sit next to the burg who was looking around their little chapel with great interest.

“Do you have a religion?”

The burg’s antenna twitched, and it clicked it’s mandibles, though the way it performs the action was less worrisome than the way that she had seen it in the past, “I do, I do. I follow the old religion, in a time where the burg believed in many gods. I Believe mostly in the gods of the east, the ones that frequent the tops of mountains and are connected with the ideals of honor, adventure, and scholarly pursuits.”

“Honor?” She asked in surprise

He sighed, “I understand it will take a while for your species to see us for what we really are rather than what our queen has led you to assume about us. But once upon a time we had a rich culture that was perpetuated on the ideals of honor and loyalty, though that loyalty was soon corrupted into the ability to hold grudges for a very long time and that bravery crossed a line into stupidity that nearly had our nation destroyed, but…. I had honestly hoped to talk about more enlightening subjects. Please, tell me more about your great culture and religious traditions.

Maverick smiled, “Where to begin…”

Finnari

The humans were so nice to them. At first they had assumed that the humans would be scary, and they had been right. The fins on the sides of their heads had flared in agitation as they saw the humans, and they had backed away in concern and worry as soon as someone had approached.

But as the humans stopped and bowed, they were surprised and the gentle way in which they moved, and even reached ou to touch the finnari in a kind way.

They were welcomed aboard the ship with open arms, and it was quickly accepted that here is where they would be safe.

Here they would be accepted.

The finnari are very trusting like that, and so had no problem when their quarters were proven to be situated right in the middle of the human quarters away from the other aliens at the center of everything. This had something to do with their role on the ship, working specifically with the psychological team (They were expected to be needed quickly) Two of them were healers, nurses by trade, and the other two worked with psychological issues, one of them was certified in a cuddle clinic as it was shown the Finnari ahd a similar impact on other creatures as the humans did.

They would be comfortable here, surrounded by all the humans where they would be safe. WHen you are friends with the wolves, there is nowhere safer to be than in the midst of their den.

And so they got to meet and to know their human comrades very quickly, invited to play games and to sit and chat, A few of the humans, less affable than the others might have attempted to be snappish or aggressive towards them, but they were quickly cut off by other humans who would not allow that sort of behavior.

They were going to get along very well aboard the ship.

Conn

There were more voices here than there ever had been before, and threw as a lot of work for him to get done. Conn had been pleased to learn that he was one of the reasons others were forced to sign a waver when boarding the ship. THey had to acknowledge his presence and tell the GA and the UNSC that they were not liable if Conn decided to share any of their personal secrets. They had to make sure that the UNSC or the GA could not be sued if Conn decided to do something stupid.

He was even more pleased to learn that many potential candidates had dropped out when hearing that he would be on the ship.

He was not, however, particularly pleased about their new mascot, a white Leviathan emblazoned on the side of the ship. The Admiral had argued that the thing had saved his life and Conn had argued that that thing had tried to eat his people in the past.

However when the Admiral pointed out that conn didn’t really care about them he hadn’t really been able to argue, and shut up despite his grouchiness.

Now he was fulfilling a role that the Admiral had given over to him rather silently.

The man hadn’t exactly asked him to do it, in fact he had specifically tried to avoid thinking about it when conn was around because he didn’t think the idea was particularly ethical.

Honestly, it was the whole reason why conn had decided to do it in the first place. If the Admiral didn’t want him to do it for ethical reasons, he was totally going to do it. In a way, Conn was sort of the defacto police force on the ship, monitoring thoughts and the minds of others as he went through trying to determine who was going to be a a problem and who was not though he didn’t mention these to the admiral just yet.

He sort of wanted to see what they were going to do, besides, the Admiral still needed to be punished.

He flated up the hall, reaching the familiar mind of the animal waffles, who he had come to familiarize hismelf with. She was very nervous when it came to leaving the commander now, worried that he was going to vanish for no good reason only to leave her alone like had done not so many months ago.

The Admiral did not plan on it, so he tried to sooth her animal mind just a little.

He floated onto the bridge and behind the man’s seat.

He knew when Adam sensed him.

And they both acknowledged each other

“Conn.”

“Admiral.”

‘Everything goes well?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

The Admiral seemed pleased conflating the fact that Conn would do something if anything was ACTUALLY WRONG.

Conn was annoyed to realize he was right.

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renaerys · 5 years ago

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PPG One-Shot: Blowing Off Steam (Brick/Blossom)

@carriedreamerx and @kiebs have been hard at work these last couple of days drawing some really pretty art over on IG for various of our collective fics (check out their IGs, the art is super gorgeous). Since I have the artistic skills of a rock, I thought I’d say thanks with some Reds fight-and-make-out fic! This is an excerpt from an upcoming multi-chapter fic that will feature the Punks along with the Girls and the Boys. Gist of it is they’ve all been warped to a different planet and are stuck in a weird, possibly haunted house as they try to find a way out of it with punches and problem solving and *gasp* teamwork. They’re all in their late 20s in this. In this excerpt, Brick and Blossom blow off a little steam and Berserk takes all the credit.

(Unbeta’d and subject to change when I get around to posting the actual multi-chapter fic itself.)

xxx

Blossom had never felt more discomfited by Berserk’s absence than her presence, but she felt it now across the table from Brick with no one else around to draw her wandering eye, or his. He shifted his weight in his chair. She stretched her neck. He took a sip of water. She cleared her throat.

After ten minutes of this, he slammed his book shut. “What is happening?”

Blossom fixed her gaze firmly on her book and the passage she’d re-read at least four times now without absorbing any of it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It’s taken you twenty minutes to read two pages.”

The knee-jerk urge to refute him tugged at her like a dog begging for table scraps, but she ignored it. He wasn’t wrong. “I guess I’m finding it hard to concentrate today.”

They watched each other across the long table, and it struck her just how red his eyes were even from afar: two burning pits fixed entirely on her. Unsettling, yet strangely warm. She thought about retiring early, but she wasn’t tired. In fact, she was having some trouble sitting still in her chair. Maybe a walk outside would do her good, or even a run. Maybe Buttercup was free and up for a spar. Just anything to get her body moving and her brain blanking before her thoughts burned a hole through her skull and exposed everything to him.

“Let’s go a round,” Brick said. The sound of his chair sliding over the tile screamed in the cavernous, quiet library.

“What?”

“I feel like I’m trying to crawl out of my own skin.” He flexed a fist, and red sparks spiderwebbed along his knuckles to the wrist eager for something to burn.

Blossom’s mouth went dry at the manifest threat of his power calling to her like old ghosts. She could retreat, provide some excuse, it had worked before. But no excuse came to her now, and under the table, her fingers curled around a mass of pastel power itching for a summoning. She rose from her chair, books forgotten, and headed for the door. “We can’t have that,” she said.

He fell into step after her not a moment later and followed her down the hall and up the second floor balcony to the first challenge room. The house was quiet and empty tonight, its vaulted ceilings cold and distant. It was as though they were the only two people awake in this uncanny place.

It took everything Blossom had not to stop and wait for him to catch up. His eyes at her back gave off a singular heat, homing and hyper-focused. Perhaps years ago, she would have never entertained the thought of turning her back on someone so dangerous. Now, the thought of what she might invite if she faced him kept her squarely focused on her destination ahead.

“Ladies first,” Brick said directly behind her when they reached the challenge room. He grabbed the edge of the door and held it open for her.

Blossom looked anywhere but back at him and stepped over the threshold. The change of pressure entering the pocket dimension made her ears pop and the access band on her wrist heat with power. As before, the walls on all sides moved as concrete structures grew and shifted, sky scrapers blooming like flowers and withering to dust, only to sprout again elsewhere. Brick followed and closed the door behind them. Already disoriented, Blossom began to float as she adjusted to the altered gravity and tried to abandon the idea of up versus down.

“Restrictions?” Brick asked. He shed his red jacket, leaving him only in his matching pants and a form-fitting tank top.

Blossom very maturely averted her gaze lest he assume she was ogling him, of all the ludicrous notions. Steeling herself, she unzipped her own red jacket and tossed it aside to join his. “Since when can you afford to restrain yourself against me?”

His laughter, light and low, shivered her to the bone. “All right, then. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He was on her in a flash with a hard punch. Blossom blocked at the last second, but the force sent her crashing into concrete. She barely had time to cough when he came at her again with another punch aimed at her face, but this time she dodged in the nick of time and it was his turn to eat rubble.

Adrenaline and Chemical X made for a heady, explosive cocktail in her veins that spread from her fingertips to the very ends of her long ponytail. Incandescent, pink power jumped over her bare arms as she poised to receive him again.

“Come on,” she said.

Brick glowed red, and it was her only warning before he rocketed after her. Blossom took off deeper into the maze of ever changing obstacles, the exertion only fueling her faster along in a familiar chase they had not run in years.

The pocket dimension was a death trap. Blossom darted over and under spikes and spires closing around her like jaws, her movements precise and fluid. But Brick was just as adept and wasted little energy swerving around the masticating mandible they had chosen for this evening’s playground.

Blossom swung around and under a sprouting obelisk, trusting her body to move exactly according to her will, but Brick abruptly changed course and met her mid-spin. Anticipating his sneak attack, Blossom let him have it with a wicked kick in the ribs.

Unfortunately, he was damn fast and grabbed her by the ankle just as her kick connected, and they both went flying with the force of her attack. A receding column broke Blossom’s fall with a rude crunch, and she broke Brick’s. Rose met red through a cloud of dust and electric Chemical X.

“Caught you,” he said.

Maybe it was the rush of the moment that drove her, the old thrill of the hunt from their heyday, never acknowledged but deeply felt. She felt him now, palms searing around her knee and pinning her neck, and she reached back.

Too close to avoid her open palm on his chest, Brick took her ice at point-blank range and blasted away in a flurry of snowflakes. He nearly hit a stone pillar punching out of the undulating wall, but managed to flip out of its path at the last second.

Blossom floated higher, her arms sleeved in ice and her breath misty. The temperature plummeted further as her power rippled through the pocket dimension. “Not quite,” she said in a voice that crept in between the shifting sky scrapers like hoarfrost.

Across from her, Brick’s power sluiced off him as thick as magma. He was a bright, burning star in this grey world, and god she could feel him pushing back and fighting for ground as if he were right in front of her. The chemically saturated air shimmered around him and ignited the blood in his eyes as they met hers. “Come here.”

It was all the encouragement she needed to give in to the timeless spark between them and unleash. Frost met fire as they collided, broke, and collided again. His punches smoldered, but her ice tempered them to cleansing smoke. And when she caught him in a freezing hold, he inevitably slipped through behind a veil of steam. Each unable to smother the other, they were evenly matched and forever at odds as they ricocheted off stone towers and toppled thrusting obelisks in their bid for dominance.

And that was what this was, what it had always been. Blossom had never felt the need to control and dominate another like she felt it fighting Brick. Call it fate, or design, or maybe it was just him, but there was nothing like this release, this honest surrender to the creature she was and always would be, made magnificent in the eyes of a true equal.

“I’m right here!” she taunted, with snowflakes in her hair.

Brick landed on a cracked block. The cement began to melt under the heat of his power where he crouched and captured her in those pyre-bright eyes. “Is that an invitation?” he shot back. “Or a threat?”

Alive with the thrill of unfettered competition, Blossom grinned. “Let’s find out.”

She took off at a punishing pace, half flying around the cement blocks and half skating over their frozen faces. Brick was right on her tail, his steps scorching the swaths of ice she left in her wake to cataclysmic ends. Wherever the two Supers’ extremities came into direct contact, the concrete collapsed and exploded like a parade of supernovas.

He was close, she could feel it, but he wouldn’t catch her, no way. Blossom was the best at what she did, and no one knew that better than her counterpart. But he was fast closing the distance between them, and when she chanced a glance back, there he was haloed in haze, his fire rising like great, golden chains, and he reached for her.

Blossom gasped, and it was her mistake. Brick caught her waist and pulled her back hard. The blizzard in her lungs went up in steam between his fingers clamped over her mouth. They hurtled together head over heels with Blossom kicking and jabbing with her elbows. But Brick locked her arms to her sides and anchored her to his chest until they came to a stop and she could hardly move. Pink power crackled on her skin as she thrashed in his arms, but he only laughed.

“That tickles,” he murmured.

Blossom immediately ceased her struggling. Immured in his arms with no chance of escaping unless he let her go, she became acutely aware of just how close they were. His breath was warm in her hair, and he smelled like smoke and parchment. He hadn’t loosened his hold around her at all.

“Brick,” she said, sotto voce.

He laughed again, low and husky. “Yield.”

The very word inspired an electric disdain in her. “No.”

He pressed his nose to her hair, and when he spoke his lips brushed against the side of her neck. “Are you sure?”

Blossom turned her head to look him in the eye and held on to her nerve out of sheer force of will. “Are you?”

This close, she could count his freckles and taste the heat he radiated, but there was no reading him beyond his singular and absolute focus on her.

He loosened his grip around her and pulled away. “No,” he said.

Blossom caught him before he could move away. Thoughtless perhaps, but Blossom never stopped thinking, not about their entrapment here, not about finding a way out, and not about him since the day they arrived in this strange place. She barely tugged at his shirt before he was on her again, arms around her waist and kissing her hard. Her fingers sparked with power as she threaded them through his short hair, making him groan, and he suddenly shoved them against the freezing, concrete wall until it cracked. His kiss was volcanic, as relentless as he was, and Blossom pulled him deeper with a smile.

The wall lurched at her back, and as quickly as it had begun, Brick ended the kiss and pushed her out of the way of a wicked spike just as it erupted from the enchanted wall. Blossom landed deftly on a nearby block and watched him do the same. Breathing hard, she wiped the traces of the best kiss of her life from her lips.

“Best two out of three,” he called to her.

Unable to resist, she smirked. “Restrictions?”

“You couldn’t restrain yourself against me if you tried.”

A retort sat poised on the tip of her tongue, but it still remembered his kiss and refused to cooperate.

“Blossom,” he said in a commanding tone that wanted answering.

Blossom’s power burst around her, radioactive, and she launched herself skyward. “Try and keep up.”

They spent the next two hours raining tempestuous ruin, on the pocket dimension and on each other.

xxx

Berserk took one look at Brick and Blossom when they returned to the Red Wing later that evening in their soot- and sleet-stained clothes, set her book down, and drained the rest of her bourbon. “Oh god.”

Brick rolled his eyes headed for his room. “There better be some of that left when I get out of the shower.”

Berserk flipped him the bird, which he returned behind his back before slamming the door.

Blossom hovered like a deer caught in the headlights until Berserk took pity on her and poured a fresh glass. “Here. You look like you need this more than I do.”

Blossom snapped out of it and took the offered bourbon automatically. “What?”

Jesus Christ.

You try to be nice for once, and nobody fucking appreciates it. Typical.

“Whatever.” Berserk went back to her book and her own glass of bourbon, which she topped off with the rest of the bottle so there would be none left for Brick.

Blossom didn’t fuck off to her own room like she ought to have, but instead sat down on the red sofa across from Berserk. She was smiling like a creep. Before Berserk could ask her if she needed medical assistance with whatever the hell was going on, Blossom said, “Cheers.”

Magenta eyes narrowed over the top of her book as Berserk studied her counterpart for any hint of a scheme. When she found none, she cautiously clinked her overfull glass to Blossom’s and drank.

They sat there in silence for a while. The sound of Brick’s shower was a low din behind his closed door as Berserk slowly flipped the pages of her book, some boring shit about this planet’s agricultural practices. Blossom had picked up a book of her own and curled up, her legs tucked under her in a perfect mirror to Berserk. Every once in a while Berserk would steal a glance at her counterpart and find her quiet and content with her book and bourbon. Peaceful was not quite the right word for this weirdly tranquil ambience, and Blossom for sure needed a shower. But, well…

Well.

“Thank you.”

It was so softly spoken, that had they not been reading in complete silence, Berserk may not have heard her speak. Blossom didn’t look up to acknowledge her sitting there, or even to check that Berserk had heard her.

Berserk curled a lock of her frizzy, red hair around her finger and buried her nose in her book. “Whatever.”

Blossom hid a smile behind her book and finished her drink.

xxx

Thanks for reading! <3

#Blossick #Reds #Blossom #Brick #Berserk #Powerpuff Girls #PPG #fanfic #carriedreamerx #kiebs #February Fic Prompts #i'm liking this world and pretty excited about writing the ppnkgs!#and more reds who am i kidding #PPG Trinity House

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sasorikigai · 4 years ago

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"five times touched" ( can I have u h h some Hanryou goodness plz )

send me "five times touched" for a drabble about five times my muse touched yours! || @sonxflight || selective accepting!

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 || 一. Lost in the throes of unstable world without everything he had lost in the relentless tides of his tragedies, Hanzo Hasashi would often aimlessly stroll down a broken path, staring out a window with no view, unable to count the things he has. While the times are indeed intense, the feelings within them are immense, and they come undone raw; broken and shattered, seeking a consolation for their hearts, battered. Without Ryou Sakai in the swelling niche of his heart, he would no longer resonate his life with screams of passion - from the paper drenched with ardor, blooming bleeding words. For the phrases swell the raging flames within, and keep he will, these words, etched forever in his heart, inscribed into the depths of his core. Even when a song of melancholy fills the air mingling with the torrential wind his soul beams in his chest, and even familiar death kindly grabs hold of his hand and wraps its arm along his back pulling him closer, charmingly twriling him round and round, with a dip, his passion-filled eyes would gaze at Ryou Sakai, as he would slowly drift into the open ground as his conscious will be tugged at tenebrous shadows, to be consumed beneath the darkness. Lest the ephemerality of it will soon relinquish beneath the radiance of dawning presence; not only of his own magnificent flames, but of Ryou Sakai’s sunshine, so glorious that his own demons would recede at its very sight.

二. Hanzo Hasashi sees nothing; for he is an abyss, like something that he shouldn’t be able to see. A nightmare, and Scorpion’s presence had been nothing, but a hindrance to his progress. How could he be so daring, evermore defiantly and stubbornly so, for his test of patience is worth his lifetime. The Grandmaster still stands still and yet, he feels the lulling breath of excruciating fatigue on the back of his neck, and his breathing is rapid, his eyes full of tear, as he stands rigidly, itching to run from invisible foes. He will face the great volcanoes of dawning magma and chase the demons of the sky, dousing the stars with catalytic fuel of his love and exert the sweetest, softest touch brushing against his beloved, causing warmth to spread throughout the samurai. The persistent wind causes his eyes to transfix upon the dancing desiccated leaves, and Hanzo joins in in tandem, swaying and twirling a smile that makes its way to his flushed face. Near the throes of his heavenly meditation, it manifests as his resilient strength, as in his candor, brazen revealing of his vulnerability, comes the strength of Hanzo Hasashi’s human nature. How he hopes to become Ryou Sakai’s pillar, the bedrock of his architecture, as his beloved had immensely helped him to break the life’s paradigm to live in the present, not in unalterable past.

三. He almost forgets this feeling; the knot in his chest, asphyxiating and cold sweat inducing. Rotting his soul, devouring him whole, keeping his body locked into place until the next morning. This feeling makes him Scorpion’s prey, not as much a clueless white tailed deer stuck in monsoon mud pits, paralyzed by the struggle and steadily suffocating under his hungry gaze, but of becoming unraveled beneath the drifting nightmares, as his shadows would play him oh so softly. For his history is full of scars - from countless attempts of opening his heart, with a slaughtered romance in the stars, as he often sinks back to the lowest valley of disappointment or fly up to the highest empyrean sky of happiness. Yet, there are glacier icicles in his vertebrae, along the sharp contours where tendrils of darkness lay dormant and hibernate, until his most vulnerable moment strikes. In the throes of swelling unconsciousness, how his limbs seek a consolation for his heart, battered. When the times are indeed intense and unbearable, as the feelings within him become evermore immense, Hanzo Hasashi seeks Ryou Sakai’s embracing presence, calming the roaring restless thunder within; through echoing heartbeats and shared exhalations, as the near-suffocated fire begins to effulgently burn.

四. If the red string of fate is true, Hanzo Hasashi would imagine that all around them is a cluster of strings that can't be helped be tangled all up. Maybe that's why they cross each other's paths before the right one, cause they needed to untangle their knots first to clearly know what's at the end. He likes the certainty, that no matter what, he will get there, to his beloved. In a lightning flash moment of clarity, he would find himself entangled and coalesced, until their boundaries became indefinable, as his eyes, fierce and gorgeous like the scorching embers he commands, would trail Ryou’s warm, well-muscled body pressing against his more heavier and bulkier form. Balmy and calloused fingers heating up the defined expanse of revealed skin, in reverence and absolute devotion, the mantras of serenading symphony emanating within as the once-wandering path of his gossamer touch traces the fine trail of hair dipping lower and lower to paint a visible stroke in a slow, leisurely path, until the wet heat of both their hardness as waves of trembling pleasure cascades, becomes lapping surge of waves through his body. And he moves, akin to a heatwave, all sun-roughened and muscle, lithe and graceful like a panther, as the heady, dark, and alluring scent of him intermingles with the fire and deep wood. He shifts, intending to press a passionate kiss as the intoxicating drag against Ryou’s walls begins the probing ministration, as his fevered, unhurried words become almost trance-like. “How you plunge me, towards carnality’s insanity and its inevitable eternity.” A tantalizing smile is painted raw and warm against his beloved’s cheek, as he thrusts slow and even, asserting, filling Ryou Sakai, in order to be filled in return as the fervent drag continues to cause him to roll his hips.

五. Ecstasy consumes him, with the electrifying, skin on skin, and a certain urgency that almost makes the air become ablaze around them. The burning pleasure at the base of his belly builds, crashing over him like a series of well-choreographed waves. They move together, joined as one, and all Hanzo Hasashi could think of is the building heat in his core that threatens to overwhelm him. How he reels, in the quieted moans as he seeks purchase against the expanse of Ryou’s back. Fused at one another’s hips, with each powerful thrust sending numbing electricity lancing up his spine. They are simply dancing through the golden twilight hour after the saturating rain, as slick perspiration plasters them beneath the splendor of effulgent landscape, through the radiant basking swell of dawn’s break. The fire begins to surge and soar, as he meets his beloved in impassioned and eager purchase, the carnal smacks rendering his awareness to float towards cloud nine. Mandibles of his hold painting expressionistic strokes over Ryou’s shoulders and small of his back as his demands are being met with the heated breaths and the press of teeth against the shell of Ryou’s ear, he finds himself erupting, spurting his own essence with much abandon as light olive paints with pristine, pearly white. ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 ||

#✗ the ineffable testimony of spawned hellfire (scorpion)#✗ seeking reconciliation with his own humanity (iii)#(relationships; samurai jack)#(nsfw)#(you get a whole gamut of variety)#(and Hanzo being a true switch)#sonxflight

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