#transformed into a gigantic city

[tatonslice]

ive complained about it several times and i will continue to complain about it until the end of time but it absolutely baffles me how badly morikaze got fucked up by the writers

[asleeponelmstreet]

Burnt (part 2)

Part 1 Part 3

Charlie takes you to a show, and you are confronted by your past.

Tags: Alastor x female reader, Blitzø x female reader, eventual smut, lots of angst, panic attacks, drug use, Charlie and Angel Dust being the best friends a reader could ask for

wc: 3,244

This takes place after S1 of Hazbin Hotel and before Helluva Boss S2 E7 Mammon's Magnificent Musical Mid-Season Special. I don't know if that timeline is canon, but it's what works for my story so that's what I'm doing.

You can also read this on AO3 here if you'd prefer.

Minors DNI!!!

Fuck.

This was not fucking happening.

Your muscles stiffened the moment you stepped outside of the bright pink limousine that took Charlie and you to the show. A tingling sensation crawled up the tips of your fingers as you realized the mistake you had made, not asking the princess who you were seeing in the first place. Now you found yourself facing a grand concert hall adorned with a gigantic banner for the most famous clown in all the seven rings of Hell, the great Fizzarolli.

Your chest tightened at the sight of him plastered on every available surface in the general vicinity. It had been impossible to ignore one of the most well-known faces in Hell, but you did your best to shove down all the emotions that just the mention of his name evoked from you. But here, surrounded by all these pictures of your long-lost friend, it was just too much.

A high-pitched ringing filled your ears, drowning out all the noise of the city as well as your heartbeat thrumming in your chest. After thanking the driver, Charlie grabbed your hand and pulled you towards a side door away from the main entrance. You let her tug you along, not trusting your own feet to carry your weight. You could vaguely hear her say, “Being the princess of Hell comes with some perks” through the buzzing in your ears.

She led you up a small flight of stairs, into an elevator that sped towards the top floor and through a doorway guarded by security and a red velvet rope. The whole time you wracked your brain for a way out, but you came up with nothing. Your mind was about as useless as soup, alphabet soup. The letters only came together to form self-hating words and phrases that were not helpful right now: Idiot. You should have known better. Coward. This is on you. Traitor. It’s all my fault. That last one is the only one not in your own cruel voice.

The room you found yourself in was elegant, almost entirely built of glass walls along with an open front window facing the stage. If you weren’t brimming with dread and starting to feel a bit nauseous, you would be giddy with excitement at the prospect of seeing a live performance from these luxurious box seats, fit for demon royalty. Growing up an imp from a poor family, you never dreamt of being somewhere like this – getting to see how the other half lives.

Velvet couches faced the stage with a few cocktail tables brimming with finger foods interspersed throughout the room. A fully stocked bar took up the back wall, complete with a bartender who didn’t appear to be drinking (or sleeping) on the job. A part of you wished Husk was behind the bar instead to bring some much needed comfort from your new life into this blast from the past. “Soooo what do you think? Isn’t it amazing?!” Charlie asked excitedly, waving her hands around as if she couldn’t keep her happiness to just her beaming smile.

Someone else entered the room before you could answer saving you for a few more moments. You didn’t know how it was possible, but Charlie’s face lit up even more when she saw them. “Uncle Ozzie!” she practically screamed as you turned to face the person who had joined you in what you had thought was a private space. You would have recognized him even if Charlie hadn’t said the name – though, you didn’t know him personally. Asmodeus, the King of Lust.

Your friend did a running jump into his arms, wrapping him in a great big bear hug. He reciprocated the tight embrace, planting a chaste kiss on the top of her blonde head before settling back down on the floor as if she were a child and not the tall, lanky thing before you.

“It’s always a pleasure to receive one of your strangling hugs Charlie.” His voice was as deep and smooth as you imagined the finest bourbon. “I’m so glad you finally made it to one of Fizz’s shows! How’s that dear old dad of yours? Haven’t seen him in quite a while.”

Charlie talked with THE embodiment of Lust as if he was a close family friend, but your mind wouldn’t let go of the familiarity in which he said Fizz’s name. You knew at that moment that the gossip columns you tried your best to avoid were right. Hell’s worst-kept secret was true. The powerful demon had a much more intimate relationship with your old friend than just working together on the popular sexbots made in Fizz’s image.

“Forgive me, I should introduce you two,” Charlie said. At the mention of your name, you thought you saw something — maybe a flicker of recognition in his eyes. You wondered if Fizz told him about you. But you quickly pushed the thought away, not wanting to think of what he would have revealed to the powerful demon now standing before you.

The show was about to begin, and Asmodeus motioned to you two to join him on the couch. You complied, but you were still on edge, trying to decide the best way to get out of this situation without offending Charlie who so sweetly invited you out tonight.

After all these years apart, you were about to see Fizz perform with his secret beau sitting only a princess of Hell away. You tried to ignore him, the way he looked at you as if you were a puzzle to be solved. Looking out into the crowd below was worse. Fans decked in merchandise featuring Fizz’s name and likeness filled the seats. They were screaming his name, cheering him on even before he appeared on stage. Some of the freaks were even debauching their sexbots right there in the crowd.

It was still hard to think of all the freaks who had their hands on him (even robot versions of him) since the last time you touched him. The overt sexualization of Fizz made you feel even sicker than you were before if that was even possible. You had seen it all before, but only in small doses. You even came across several of his robot clones throughout the years but did your best to steer clear of them at all costs. If you ever did, you had to remind yourself repeatedly that it wasn’t him – even if the RoboFizzs looked identical in every way.

But he was everywhere here. His name, his face, his fucking body. His body. Just thinking about what the fire did to his body made bile rise in your throat. And what they did and are probably still doing to his body today. The room started to spin the more you got lost in your thoughts, you gripped the armrests to ground yourself. That’s when you noticed Asmodeus eying your nails digging into the supple velvet.

The curtains parted and his small figure appeared center stage. Your stomach lurched and you felt tears coming. Damn, you’ve already cried so much today. You didn’t think your ego could handle it anymore. But it was too much. His arms and legs stretched out to unnatural lengths as he said something, but you couldn’t hear it over the sound of your heartbeat and the roaring crowd. That’s it. I’m out of here, you thought. “I’m going to the bathroom,” you ran towards the door cradling your stomach. Charlie jumped up to show you the way, you assumed, but you bolted towards the door before she could catch up to you.

Once you locked yourself in the bathroom stall, you fell forward releasing the contents of your stomach into the toilet bowl. It burned – probably from the hot sauce – and tears stuck tufts of your hair to your forehead. You tried to pull at your hair to keep it from falling into the bowl as you retched, but it was no use. You were a mess.

The knock at the stall door didn’t startle you. You knew who it was. “You know there’s a private bathroom a bit closer to our seats…” she paused as if reconsidering what to say. “Can I help you?” You gave in because damn you really did need help. You fumbled at the lock on the door until it opened, and she was down on the floor by your side.

“I can hold your hair back for you,” and with that, she took the ribbon from her hair and tied it around your own. Even with it tied back she gently held your hair keeping it from falling over your shoulders as you continued to throw up.

Once your stomach was emptied of everything that you had eaten that day, you lay your head against the wall and let yourself cry. “I’m sorry you’re missing the show,” you choked out.

“Shh, it’s okay. I can come back any time,” she cooed. She took your hands in hers and just held them in silence as you continued your embarrassing meltdown. After a few minutes, she asked, “Do you think it’s something you ate?”

“No—uh, yeah. Maybe?” You said, shaking your head. You just blew your best excuse. Why hadn’t you thought about feigning sickness? Probably because your brain was just about as functioning as that summer when you spent all your earnings on heroin and horse tranquilizers. That would be preferred to how you were feeling right now.

Charlie moved in closer to your side, wrapping your shaking body up in her long limbs and rubbing soothing circles into your sore muscles. “Would it help to talk about it?” she asked. “If you don’t want to, I understand. I can tell you’re holding a lot in. But if you’re not ready, you’re not ready.”

You were so used to holding it all in. Holding it all back. Her comforting presence made you think that if you opened up just a bit, it may provide some relief. But you wouldn’t crack, you knew better. If you told her everything, she would never look at you the same way again. You couldn’t lose her or the hotel. They were the only things that gave your life a purpose anymore. “I’m not ready,” you said. She didn’t frown or let disappointment show on her face, but you imagined that she expected you to open up. She lived for those sappy heart-to-heart conversations that you avoided at all costs.

Charlie sat with you on the floor of the bathroom in silence until you were ready to leave. She explained that she just needed to say goodbye to Asmodeus and then the two of you could go back to the hotel.

Once you were back in the private room, you hung back while she told him you weren’t feeling well. Charlie had done a good job at helping you fix up your makeup and hair in the bathroom, but you knew the demon of lust didn’t have to be very perceptive to know why you had missed the start of the performance.

Before you could escape the door, his eyes locked with yours. His gaze startingly soft. “Charlie has my number if you would ever like to see Fizz. I can speak with him.” He danced around it as if not wanting to reveal anything, but you knew. The fact that he said see and not meet. He knew something and this was an invitation.

The ride back was silent as stared out the back window, thinking about what Asmodeus said the whole way home. What did it mean really? Was there a possibility that Fizz didn’t hate you? Or that he could forgive you? You couldn’t even begin to wrap your mind around it.

You walked into the hotel lobby, expecting to have to make up an excuse for why you were back hours early. Luckily, it was just Husk asleep with a half-empty bottle of liquor behind the bar. Charlie pulled you in for one last hug, reminding you that if you needed anything she would be there before the two of you went your separate ways.

Once you were in the privacy of your room, you slumped on your newly made bed. You didn’t bother to bathe or change before you curled up into a ball. You wouldn’t cry, you couldn’t. You had already shed more tears today than you had in your entire life. More than after the fire. More than when you learned your parents died. More than when Fizz refused to see you. More than when he left.

Sleep didn’t come. No matter how many times you tried to empty your mind of all the thoughts clouding it. You squeezed your eyes shut, but the darkness behind your eyelids gave way to Fizz’s face. Seeing it plastered on every poster in the concert hall and briefly on stage before you made a run for the bathroom brought back so many memories. His little head tossed back in a fit of giggles, that smirk he threw your way amid a round of applause and those wide eyes full of hope before you turned your back on him.

After tossing and turning in bed for over an hour, you gave up. You tiptoed to your dresser where you found your hidden stash in your underwear drawer. Sitting astride the open windowsill that looked out on Pentagram City, you thought about how you found comfort in the place you least expected.

As you exhaled smoke, the tension in your body released a little. A few more inhales silenced your unquiet mind, letting you focus on the better parts of the day. Like Angel rushing to your side in the morning. And how kind it was of Charlie to invite you out in the first place. And was that a compliment you received from Alastor – of all the sinners in Hell? That overlord may have come from Earth, but the stories about his reign of terror preceded him.

A soft knock at your door had you scrambling to put your joint out and hide it along with the rest of your stash behind a curtain. Probably not the smartest move, but you weren’t exactly thinking clearly.

The door creaked open, and the top of Angel’s head peaked into your room, “It’s just me. Don’t worry the fun police is fast asleep.” You sighed in relief. Though you had a feeling Charlie would have been a bit more understanding of your rule-breaking after the day you had. “Is that fuckin’ grass, babe? What are we in the fourth grade?” the spider teased.

“It helps with the nausea… and my nerves,” you said tossing your hair out of your face before relighting what was left of your joint. You motioned for him to join you if he wanted. Though, you had a feeling he would have preferred some of his namesake or at least some Devil’s Dandruff as Charlie liked to call it.

For all that teasing, the porn demon still didn’t refuse a high. Angel joined you on the windowsill and took what was left of the joint you offered him as you lit another. “I saw Charlie earlier,” he said slowly between puffs as if he was trying not to rile a rabid animal. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Yeah, some.” You mumbled, perfectly content with smoking in silence but also not hating the company. Angel looked out at the skyline, gazing over all the bright glittering lights from all the buildings filled with sinners who never seemed to sleep.

“Why did you come here?” He asked. “You could’ve gone anywhere in Hell, but you moved to this tacky-ass hotel.” You smiled, knowing it was all a façade. Maybe he crashed at the hotel for a free rent at first but since you’ve gotten to know him, you knew he cared about it, about Charlie and her dream of redeeming sinners. “We don’t even know if sinners can get into Heaven.”

“I know there’s no way for imps to get into Heaven. That’s not why I’m here.” You let out a sigh. “But there are other ways to redeem yourself even if you’re not getting anything out of it.”

“Isn’t that the whole point of redemption?” Your immediate thought was no, but you did technically want redemption for selfish reasons even if they weren’t the same as his.

“I guess, but I’m not trying to get into heaven. I just wanted to help, and I thought it might help me find some relief.”

“Relief from what?”

“All the guilt.” You looked down at your lap, knowing it sounded stupid.

Angel cackled. “What do you have to be guilty of? You’re a fucking demon.”

“Well, I’ve killed more than I can count.”

“Ha! Haven’t we all?”

“True. And I don’t feel guilty for most of it.”

“Then, what is it?”

Although the conversation was getting a bit too serious for your liking, you felt like you owed him some truth. “I hurt the people I love. And even after losing everything, I keep doing it over and over again.”

Angel’s expression grew serious, and he thought for a moment before speaking. “We all do that. It comes with the territory.”

“No, you don’t understand.” You looked away from him. “It’s different.”

“Everyone thinks they’re different, hon. You’re not special.”

“I guess.” You pouted, wanting this conversation to be over. Maybe you could change the subject to something else. “Alastor complimented me today…” You noticed the time on the alarm clock beside your bed. “Or I guess, yesterday.”

“Al complimented you?! Didn’t know he had it in him. Are you sure he wasn’t sizing you up for a meal? What’d he say?”

“He said I looked absolutely divine,” you used your best impression of the radio demon when saying those two words.

“Oh, yeah. He totally wants to eat you.” You giggled, but Angel went on. “And not in a sexy way. I don’t think he’s interested. I would know because he keeps turning me down. Me!”

“Maybe he plays for another team,” you mused.

“Or he doesn’t even play the game at all. Because anyone would be all over this.” He emphasized his point by motioning to his body and doing a slutty little hip thrust that almost shifted him out the window. You grabbed him by the shoulders to make sure he didn’t fall as you tried to contain your laughter.

“You’re right. Anyone who refuses you is out of their mind!” You leaned your head on his shoulder.

“Hey, don’t mock me. You know it’s true. I’m surprised we haven’t hooked up yet.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“I like you too much, Angie. I haven’t had a real friend in a long time, and I wouldn’t want to ruin it.” You also had a feeling he’d much rather be fucking Husk or Al than messing around with you.

“Why would it ruin it?” He leaned into you seductively, close enough that your lips were almost touching. “C’mon, it’d be hot,” he purred.

“Don’t think I haven’t thought about it,” you crooned. “Maybe someday, but not today.” You could see it being fun, but that’s all it would be. And although you weren’t a saint, you tried to avoid those kinds of situations now.

You nuzzled into the crook of his neck, wondering if Angel knew how much you needed this distraction.

Thank you so much for reading! Hope you enjoyed it. I know Alastor isn't in this chapter but he'll be back, I promise. And if you're patiently waiting for Blitzø, don't worry I am too. I had to post this so I would stop worrying about it and finally be able to focus on the next part. It may have a little bit of spice. But shhhh... you didn't hear that from me.

tag list: @sirens-and-moonflowers @whoknowswhoiamtoday y'all literally made my week, thank you <3

[in1-nutshell]

Okay I absolutely love this thank you and sorry that I didn't specify which Autobot or decepticon in my ask it's just I was barely awake when I sent that ask I forgot to specify it and realized it and it was too late to redo it considering I already sent it but could you do Megatron and Optimus from transformers animated with cybertronian megalodon buddy please and thank you =]

No problem! I just prefer to have the characters named whenever I do these things so it makes it a bit easier. If you forget, its totally understandable!

Hope you enjoy!

Bot Buddy with a Megalodon alt mode with Optimus Prime and Megatron

SFW, Platonic, Cybertronain reader

TFA

Optimus Prime

Optimus met Buddy by accident.

After he swung across the docks and missed a building causing him to take a quick dip into the docks.

Conveniently Buddy was just swimming by the docks looking at the small fish when something metallic fell onto their back. Buddy turned to see a rather startled looking Prime clinging onto their backside like his life depended on it.

Taking pity on the startled bot on their back, Buddy slowly rose up to the surface and moved towards the docks edge. Now the bot could reach over and grab the side pull themselves up.

As soon as the bot was on the dock, Buddy transformed, taking a better look at him.

“Are you okay?”--Buddy

“Yes, umm, thank you for the help…”--Optimus

“I’m Buddy!”--Buddy

“Buddy?”--Optimus

“Yep! That’s me! And you are?”--Buddy

“Oh! My name is Optimus Prime.”--Optimus

“Optimus Prime? Hmm. It has a nice ring to it. It suits you!”--Buddy

“Really?”--Optimus

“You look like an ‘Optimus’. Probably because you’re the only ‘Optimus’ I’ve met.”--Buddy

“Wait what— never mind. Did you come from Cybertron?”--Optimus

“What’s a Cybertron? I just remember waking up one day, and now here I am! Are you from Cybertron?”--Buddy

“Yes—”--Optimus

“Can you tell me about it?”--Buddy

“Oh, okay…”--Optimus

Optimus concluded that Buddy must have been some old machine that came alive thanks to the Allspark. He wants to tell them about it but decides against it and to tell them another time.

Optimus enjoys some of the small tales that Buddy has to talk about their time swimming around the lake, while he tells them a bit about Cybertron.

When he gets a message from his team, he knows that he needs to go.

He waves at them good-bye.

“Bye Buddy!”--Optimus

“Good-bye Optimus Prime! Thank you for being nice! If you have time to spare, I’m usually by the docks if you want to hang out again!”--Buddy

“I’ll come back, don’t worry.”--Optimus

“Really?!”--Buddy

“I promise.”--Optimus

Megatron

His meeting with Buddy was… special, to say the least.

Lugnut had dragged him to a nearby island close to the city to meet someone.

When they land near the islands shore, something starts to come out of the water. Megatron had his swords ready but knew that Lugnut would never put him in harm’s way.

At least intentionally.

He is a bit in awe seeing the gigantic mechanical shark. Though he was bit disappointed seeing how docile the shark was.

“Lugnut! You came! Oh? Who’s this?”--Buddy

“This is Lord Megatron! Our grand and—”--Lugnut

“Thank you for the introduction Lugnut. And you’re name must be…”--Megatron

“Buddy!”--Buddy

“…Buddy?”--Megatron

“Yep! That’s me! Are you here to be my friend too?”--Buddy

Megatron and Buddy started to chat a bit while Lugnut surveyed the area making sure no Autobot spies were there.

Megatron tried to persuade Buddy to become a Decepticon, but Buddy was much more concerned about being friends with him.

Seeing this as a potential way to get Buddy to his side, he agrees to be their friend.

“Really!? You’d be my friend!”--Buddy

“Of course—”--Megatron

Buddy transforming out of their altmode to give Megatron a strong handshake with a goofy smile on their faceplate.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”--Buddy

“…You’re welcome.”--Megatron

[gemsofgreece]

The Byzantine flag coincidence

You probably know that the term “Byzantine Empire” is coined academically recently in time to describe the (Eastern) Roman Empire after the split of the Roman Empire into West and East. Some say it was an attempt at deprecation, some say (and I fully agree) that it is an ultimately useful term which signifies the critically transformative (ethnically, culturally, linguistically, religiously) transitions between the ancient and the medieval empire. Besides, even if the term was later used in a derogatory fashion in the west, the name itself has nothing problematic about it. Byzantine means the empire which had the Ancient Greek city Byzantion as its centre, rebuilt and updated into the well-known Constantinople.

But given how the Byzantines would not call themselves as such (unless they were locals of Constantinople, then one would call themselves sometimes as “Byzantios”), it is funny that the one flag we know of the late period of the empire is full of Bs! (Or, as I should say, “Betas” but this has become unfortunate in English lately! Now that I think of it, y’all have made both Bs and Betas sound weird.)

That empire was sure begging to be called Byzantine.

However, was this a nod to the toponym of Byzantion / Constantinople?

Well, nope! This is a super convenient coincidence because the real reason was a super gigantic imperial flex.

This is the only flag we have from the empire (medieval and ancient states did not really have flags in the modern sense, more like emblems, symbols, labarums and crests) and it belongs to the very last dynasty, the Palaeologan dynasty.

The 4 Bs were the first letters from the words in their motto:

Βασιλεύς Βασιλέων Βασιλεύων Βασιλευόντων

which sounds like:

Vasiléfs vasiléon vasilévon vasilevóndon

and means:

“King of Kings, Reigning Over Those Who Reign”

[ranticore]

Two shortwing rival academics and a lil bit about spire culture

The East North Spire (or honestly just 'Spire', people will know what you mean) is the most densely populated location on the planet. It consists of the remains of one of the largest old telecommunications spires on a cliff. The sea around here is shallow and dense with reedbeds which can be used to make building material. Wood (or an alien equivalent) doesn't exist on Siren so reeds make up most permanent and impermanent structures, as well as providing the pulp with which to make paper and the extremely light reedsilk clothing that harpies wear.

Being surrounded by abundant natural resources as well as being an area with relatively mixed water year-round, so good fishing opportunities, the spire was an obvious choice to build on. The structure of the spire is made of woven reed platforms and silk tents attached to the main trunk, but over the years it has grown immensely wide and complex. People might liken its appearance to a giant multicoloured tree if they knew what a tree was. The structure extends down the cliff-face all the way to the water, where it expands into a dense network of docks and pontoons which has become something of a globlal shipping hub.

The spire is mostly famous for its strict occupation-based culture and honorifics system, which I originally scribbled down on a drawing of Qedivar and Terwy in ramble form, but it's important to understand that these names are cultural and geographical so not limited to harpies.

This is the first pass of the naming system so it's likely outdated lol.

Anyway what started as a collection of craft guilds at the spire transformed over centuries into the world's only institute of higher learning. It is mostly a gigantic and deeply bureaucratic university, the headmaster of which is the highest authority in the entire city.

The culture at the spire is loud. Open debate, arguments, and outright fights are encouraged as a way to clear the air and avoid any simmering tension building up between aggrieved parties. Holding a grudge is considered physically bad for your health, worse than any consequences of a heated debate or quick scuffle (drawing blood is where this acceptance of fighting ends, however). The population density is ludicrous, especially in the shortwing bowers where you'd be lucky to have a wingspan's worth of space to yourself, so it's in their best interests to become very good at managing conflict as early as possible. There is no concept of romantic relationships as a separate phenomenon to platonic relationships here and the potential for gigantic nightmarish polycules to develop is almost guaranteed, but a comparatively small societal weight is placed on sex and intimacy, it's just a thing you do with your friends and that's about it, you won't get any institution of marriage though it is possible (rare) for a pair to be exclusive.

There are no blood ties or familial bonds among inhabitants of the spire. There are differing gestation periods & nurseries based on body type, but among the shortwings, who are the most numerous and have very short gestation periods, nursery duty is pretty much like jury duty. Everybody gets called out to the nursery every couple of years to do early infant care, once the birthing parent is no longer needed (at time of weaning usually). The infants are communally raised and when they're old enough to learn they get shuffled immediately off to school where they will remain until age 12 or so when they pick their main topic of study, or a craft apprenticeship. Then their fellow students or guild masters are considered to be their true families.

The culture is frequently xenophobic against basically everyone else; it's got Big City disease where everyone living outside may as well not exist, and other places are far less important. Particular negative consideration is given to people from the Western continent who are thought of as just inherently dumber for not having any great institutions of learning, with the notable exception of the visored harpies. There's also a strongly ableist element in the spire, those not considered smart enough or not fit enough to work a craft are practically second class citizens.

Qedivar and Amivar (-var suffix indicating a scholar working on a theory) share a bower, they're on-again-off-again frenemies due to the fact that the two of them are working on very different theories on the origin of people. Amivar has proposed a theory of evolution, which is partially wrong where the humans are concerned (as they were intentionally designed but have experienced natural selection since) and correct for all other life on Siren (which did evolve), and Qedivar believes the Precursors were similar to gods who magicked the entire planet into being and then populated it with distinct groups of people. Both theories have some merit but really all they've achieved is endless debates and fights, until a particularly harsh defeat at Qedivar's grant application causes our pal Qedivar to decide to set out to prove his theory right by any means necessary, with a budget of almost zero.

While Qedivar travels to the Western continent to learn the heretical truth (which is that he was wrong and they're all just Human aliens), Amivar stays behind. He continues his work, but when the ministry of knowledge at the spire comes knocking to demand to know Qedivar's whereabouts, he's faced with a tough choice - sell Qedivar out and reveal his location, thus potentially getting a really nice research grant in return for his evolution theory which has proven very unpopular, or cover for him and, in doing so, implicitly accept the unacceptable truth of what his colleague has uncovered. I had a lot of fun thinking over Amivar and his actions in these circumstances, in a situation where where so much hinges on pride and self-advocacy... a look at the guy who has to stay behind and deal with the consequences of someone else's grand adventure (as well as the ministry of knowledge threatening to disappear him).

[shhtickerbook]

Little Chocolatier

Finally finished my Wonka agere fic!

tw: crying, nightmares, bedwetting, hurt / comfort

-

also posted this on Ao3

Willy Wonka came tumbling down the laundry chute, a pile of sheets piled over him like a stereotypical ghoul. It had been a very long day selling chocolate around the city, his pouch of sovereigns jingled like an instrument as he walked.

Lugging himself out of the laundry cart, Willy smiled weakly up at his friends who were finishing up for the day. Placing down the pocketful of coins on abacus’ table, who picked up his spectacles from his desk.

“Let me get these counted up for you Mr Wonka, I’d say we’re making more and more money each day”

The man spoke as he counted out his coins, Willy nodding. His head was feeling a little odd, like he hadn’t had the best sleep for a while. His days revolved around chocolate and chocolate only, and of course still trying to catch that little orange man. Willys body ached from running from police all day, and for once it was hard to keep his usual chipper and positive energy. His head just felt a little out of gear.

“You okay Willy?”

Piper was hanging up sheets, but had noticed the slight change in the chocolatiers body language. He quickly jumped in reply, putting on his smile and charm.

“Of course! Just a little fatigued. I better head to bed”

He chirpily replied, before making a quick exit to head up to his room. An early night was what probably he needed, to clear the cobwebs from his mind. It was always strange when he felt like this, like a fog overcame his senses. Things just seemed louder, too bright. He just needed some time to rest. The sight of his room wasn’t exactly warming, the metal framed bed teetering on edge, with a yellowing sheet and thin mattress. It wasn’t pretty, but it was the only home he had right now. At least until he made enough money to open his store. Then he could purchase his own house, with enough room for all his friends to move in.

Humming softly as he got changed into his nightclothes, he watched the rain beginning to drop from the sky and glittering against the oil streetlights. This was the only good part of the room, able to see all the way down to the glowing light of the gallery gourmet.

“One day Mamma….”

-

A young Willy wonka awoke in a fright, feeling his centre of gravity tilt for a moment before being thrown from his bed. He had been flung to wooden floorboards, swaying back and forth. It was his canal boat home, but there were no lights, and the once comfortable and cosy furniture was decrepit and molding.

There was a huge roar from outside, howling wind and torrential rain pour. Willy tried to get to his feet, stumbling from the imbalance. What had happened, where was his mother?

“Mamma? Where are you?”

He called out, managing to find the shape of the ladder in the dark. It was incredibly difficult to try and ascend it with the boat rocking back and forth. The boy was immediately hit by a spray of water when he opened the hatch. The canal boat was racing down the water, a terrible storm hitting in every direction.

“Mamma!”

Willy sheltered his face with his elbow, a gust of cold wind causing his favourite scarf unravel and be sucked away. Usually they tied the boat up when bad weather came, he couldn’t even recognise where the boat had been blown to. A sudden flash of light flashed in front of his eyes, disorienting him before a gigantic bang threw him back. Thunder and lightning, it was one of the very few things that frightened him. Usually his mother would hold him close when it thundered, humming a soft tune to drown out the bangs. He wanted nothing more than to find her, where in earth had she gone, why had she left him alone?

His threadbare boots skidded against the wet floorboards, the boat bowing up high in the water. Scrambling he attempted to hold on to anything, but it was no use. In one awful weightless sensation, the boy was thrown from the boat and plunged deep into the choppy freezing water.

-

“Mamma!”

Willy jerked up from bed, clutching at his chest as he began to hyperventilate. His room was filled with darkness, his oil lamp had long burned itself out. But the darkness was quickly replaced with a flash of light from outside, followed by a bang. Flinching violently at the noise, still disoriented from waking up. The dream had felt so real, like he could still feel the cold water he’d been plunged into…

Oh dear.

Frantically he felt around his sheets, sighing out in despair when finding them cold and sopping wet. This was a problem of which that had only happened from time to time, and up until this point it hadn’t occurred whilst he’d been saying at Scrubbits. Willy felt his eyes watering, Mama always helped him when he was young and this happened. It had happened once or twice on the ship, but thankfully there was a very kindly second mate with the same problem who had caught him one evening hunting for sheets.

Sheets… that’s it. He was literally living at Scrubbit and Bleachers, all he had to do was sneak down and wash them, dry and make it back to his room. Although when he stood up and felt the cold breeze through the warped window, all his confidence disappeared and all he wanted to do was curl up and cry. Willy didn’t think he’d ever wanted his mother more in his life, he certainly didn’t want to deal with this.

His head felt fuzzy and strange, vulnerable even. Thankfully a small stuffed creature had been spared from the mess, a floppy knitted bird was strewn against his pillow. Willy picked up the ratty bird, his name was Chester the toucan. Mama had made him when he was a baby, told him stories about where the flocks of birds lived. They even cracked open cocoa beans for food, not the bitter nibs, but the soft sweet flesh surrounding them. Chester was his most loyal companion, so with a deep breath, he tucked the bird under his arm and gathered up the soaked sheets, carefully tiptoeing out of his room.

The creaking floorboards didn’t help his attempt of stealth, but he managed to make his way down the hall and down the stairs. The freezing cold rain and wind felt agonising in just his damp pajamas when he made it outside, the silly man completely forgetting to slip on shoes or any kind of coat on beforehand. The rain was getting torrential, with a deep rumbling in the distance. Willy managing to sprint across the cobblestones to the laundry room just before another bang rang out.

-

Abacus Crunch was a very light sleeper, so when the thunder and lightning began, he resolved to just sit and read for a while until it had passed. He quite enjoyed this kind of weather, he’d read in a book that the sound of thunder created a kind of “white noise” that helped one relax. And his keen hearing picked up on the sound of somebody getting up, but he thought nothing of it. But then he heard the sound of a door loudly open outside, and couldn’t help but stand up to investigate. His pocket watch read that it was 12:35 in the morning, so nobody should be outside at this time. Mrs Scrubbit and Bleacher had threatened any fool who left the building out of hours with multiple gruesome punishments.

So when he peered through the window to see what looked like Willy Wonka darting into the washhouse, he couldn’t help but be curious. What on earth was Mr Wonka doing at this time of night, and in his pajamas of all things?Too peculiar to ignore, the man stood up and put some sensible clothes on to investigate further.

-

Willy really wished he had brought some kind of light with him, the inside of the washhouse looked rather unnerving with only the moonlight and flash of thunder illuminating the interior. He felt around the walls until he found a shelf, scrambling until he found the shape of a candle, box of matches not far behind.

It took a few attempts to strike the match, his shivering hands struggling to get the damn candle lit. But on the fourth attempt he got the old stub of candle alight, having to settle with the puny flame to guide him. He couldn’t just throw the soiled sheets in the hamper, someone for sure would find them tomorrow and question. There was no choice but to wash them, dry and redress his bed. A bitterly cold draft swept through the building, his wet pajamas feeling icy against his skin. With his precious candle being snuffed out in one single breeze.

He groaned in defeat, swallowing anxiously. Wondering just how he was going to do this on his own, he wanted to go back to bed but his bed was now wet and ruined. What was even wrong with him right now? Willy Wonka was the most independent, confident person you could know, why was something as silly as a bad dream and thunder making him feel so unsettled. The knitted toucan in his arm was the only thing he could find some comfort in right now, his button eyes glinting in the moonlight. Holding the bird close to his face, it’s very faint chocolate smell still there from years past.

Taking a deep breath he walked in further, trying to find a washtub. Eventually feeling around to find a large wooden vat. As he was about to dump the sheets inside, to his horror he heard the door loudly creaking open, a yellow light appearing from atop the stairs.

In a panic Willy grabbed at his curls, breathing beginning to hitch. Heavy footsteps echoing down the stairs, the possibilities of who it could be racing through his brain, before coming to a horrifying conclusion. Bleacher. If he found him like this he would never ever hear the end of it, he’d be humiliated beyond belief. The terrible man would probably parade his sodden sheets like a flag to everybody, laughing at stupid Willy Wonka bedwetter.

Willy didn’t know what to do, sliding down to the floor behind the washtub. The steps continued down, watching the warm light fill up the room. In a few moments his hiding spot would be for sure revealed.

“Mr Wonka?”

It was a deep voice, but not gravelly and sinister. A gentle baritone rumble, sounding kind. Although feeling relief that it wasn’t Bleacher, the panic still remained of being caught. He stayed silent, hopeful he would leave. But as Abacus walked further, there was no place left to hide, the man turning a corner to see the chocolatier doing his best to stay in the shadows.

“Oh I’m fine- please just go back to bed”

He squeaked out, but his tone only concerned the other man further. Abacus approaching further with his lamp, illuminating the boy in its shine. In the warm light there was no way to hide his predicament, a terrible silence between the two. Abacus had been concerned as to what on earth was going on, but his expression softened when seeing the chocolatier clutching a handful of sheets in his wet pyjamas.

“Ohh”

Abacus breathed out sympathetically, watching as the Willy Wonkas face crumpled before he looked away with tears in his eyes. A huge lump had formed in his throat, everything felt like it was closing in on him. He couldn’t help but hold onto the silly little bird for security as he felt tears fill his eyes.

“Oh dear boy, it’s quite alright”

Abacus placed the lamp on a table before approaching, his heartstrings being pulled at the sight of the poor boy. He looked so very vulnerable and afraid.

“I’m so sorry”

Wonka admitted quietly, feeling so ashamed. But the kind tone of the older gentleman was weakening his defences. Unable to hold back a small sob, as his body folded in on itself. Abacus was certainly shocked by the reaction, having never seen the man so emotional. Of course he had every reason to feel embarrassed, but it wasn’t something Abacus hadn’t seen before being both a father and grandfather.

“There’s nothing to apologise for, it happens to the best of us”

He spoke gently, putting an arm around the chocolatier. It was the straw the broke the camels back for Willy, the comforting voice and affection only making him think of his mother. More tears bubbling over as he couldn’t hold it back anymore. The fuzzy feeling in his head felt even stronger, all he wanted was to be held and to be secure.

Abacus knew that this situation was probably very embarrassing for him, but this kind of breakdown made him think that there was more going on in his head than the accident.

He felt Willy Wonkas knees buckle underneath him, so he held him up before guiding the pair over to a bench. It was clear he needed to get whatever this was out of his system, the mathematician holding an arm over his frame and allowing him to whimper into his shoulder. Although feeling so very embarrassed, Willy couldn’t help but cling to the man, especially when another crack of lightning rung out.

“Ah I see, I gather you’re not a fan of fulgur tempestas”

Abacus had begun to rub small circles into his back, remembering how his Sons were very comforted by the simple gesture. Willy looked up in mild confusion between his tears, not understanding what word was said. Perhaps it was made up, like he usually did when he couldn’t find a rhyme for something. Abacus just chuckled softly.

“Lightning, you’re afraid of it?”

Willy just hunched up a little and quickly nodded with his head turned away, it was a very silly thing to feel so afraid of. It was odd to see Willy Wonka seeming so.. small? Even with his tall lanky frame it felt as if he was holding a scared little boy.

“Now, it’s quite late and getting very chilly. How about we get you more comfortable? You’re shivering”

He patted him on the back, but Willy just looked down anxiously at the sheets still clutched in his hands.

“No need to worry about those, I’ll take them personally and get them cleaned. Nobody has to know”

Standing up, he pulled the damp sheets from his grasp before carefully folding them and placing them in an old washtub behind his desk. Sighing sympathetically at the boys forlorn expression, but gave a small smile when seeing a little creature tucked away under an arm.

“Is that your companion?”

He gestured at the knitted toy, Willy blushing at first and trying to hide it. But Abacus sounded nice about him, not like he was going to poke fun. Hesitantly he presented the bird, his bean filled head sloping to the left. Abacus chuckled as he saw it clearly, it was a very charming little toy.

“Chester.”

Willy spoke extremely quietly, chin to his chest selfconsciously.

“Hm? What was that?”

He leant in closer, holding a hand to his ear.

“Chester, his name”

His voice was so very small, not his usual confident chirpy tone. Yet again Abacus felt his heartstrings being pulled upon, the fatherly instincts in him taking over when he heard that little voice.

“That’s a very good name.”

For the first time that night Abacus caught a small smile from the boy, but it disappeared when a low rumble from outside growled ominously. He held the bird close to him again for comfort, which was a very sweet sight. It truly was as if Willy Wonka had transformed into a small child, his entire body language and demeanour seemed different. Abacus took a step further and bent down a little to his sitting level, holding out his large hand.

“How about we head back to your room and I help you get sorted, you’ll catch your death in those wet things”

His tearstained face looked up, not seeming quite sure. A part of him wanted to stand up straight and assure he was completely alright, he could take care of himself. But when he saw the kind expression on the older man, all he yearned for was his comfort and security. So he accepted the offer, holding onto his hand tight as he stood up.

Abacus couldn’t hold back the sympathetic smile as he guided the boy out of the washhouse, the desperate grip in his grasp reminded him so of his son many years ago. When they made it back outside, he handed Wonka the oil lamp whilst he pulled out his umbrella.

“Now, only a quick walk back inside, could you carry the lamp for me?”

The pair briskly walked through the rain to their accommodation, Willy holding on for dear life throughout the thunder. He’d been so afraid of being caught, but right now he couldn’t feel more grateful to be with in the man’s protection. His head was feeling at its fuzziest. Thankfully it only took a few seconds, Abacus folding up the umbrella once they had made it back inside. Willy had his hands full with the oil lamp and knitted toy, Abacus taking the oil lamp back from his grasp.

“Well done, thank you.”

The simple praise made Wonka glow inside, feeling genuinely proud of such a simple simple task. As quietly as they both could, they ascended the creaking stairs together until they came into Willy’s room. Once they entered the room, Abacus immediately noticed the stain across the mattress. The sight of it making Willys face burn red in embarrassment, but the older man was completely unbothered.

“Alright then, have you got a spare nightclothes?”

Abacus turned as he rubbed his hands together, Willy just standing there with a shrug. He hadn’t brought many clothes with him here, just his signature velvet outfit, a few shirts and only one pair of pyjamas. The other man just sighed in amusement, especially when noting the large amount of chocolate related instruments and inventions in comparison to how little clothes he owned.

“Well, you sit there and I’ll be back in just a moment”

Obediently he sat down on the stool, feeling a little worried about him leaving even if for a few moments. Sqomething about him taking control made him feel wonderfully secure. After Mamma died he had nobody to care for him, no one to tell him what to do. It strangely felt quite good for somebody else to take control. When Abacus returned, it looked to be a large pinstriped sheet in his hands.

“Now this will likely be a bit large on you, but it’ll have to do for now.”

He unfurled the fabric, revealing a white and pale blue pinstripe nightgown. One that would certainly go past Wonkas feet, but the gesture was very touching. Everything abacus was doing for him right now was just.. so kind? Why was he doing this for him? Once again his face screwed up, softly crying as fat tears spilled over.

“Ahh”

Abacus placed the gown on his lap before kneeling to the ground. (With some difficulty with his aching joints) Pulling out a cotton handkerchief from his pocket before dabbing at his cheeks.

“You’re feeling right out of sorts aren’t you?”

The chocolatier just nodded tearfully, allowing his hot teary face be mopped up so carefully. Abacus even getting him a glass of cold water, even if it tasted rather metallic from the Scrubbit plumbing.

“Now I’ll sponge your mattress out, then we can just turn it over for tonight.”

His deep voice narrated, making it his responsibility to make sure the boy could sleep comfortably tonight. Meanwhile Willy changed from the damp clothes into the large nightgown. It smelled softly of lavender soap, much nicer than the usual musty odour of his old pyjamas. Although It came far past his feet, even trailing down like a brides train. When abacus turned from the now turned over and fresh bed, he couldn’t hold back the chuckle at the sight of him.

“Certainly is rather big on you, but it will have to do for tonight.”

He spoke with a smile, guiding a hand on his shoulder towards the bed. He had stripped it and replaced it with fresh smelling sheets. Just before hopping into bed, Willy turned to his case on the desk. It was busy at work pumping out chocolates, but his goal was to turn a little golden handle a few times. It wound for a few moments before a series of notes began to play, a music box tune. A familiar song that always brought him comfort, the exact one his mother would hum under her breath.

“It’s getting late Mr Wonka, perhaps it’s time for you to get settled in bed”

Giving a tap on his shoulder, Willy turned to see his kind expression, holding open the blanket. With a nod he followed, climbing into the now clean and dry bed. For the first time since his mamma was around, he found himself being tucked into the bed. For a moment Abacus wondered what he was doing, bearing in mind that Mr Wonka was indeed a young adult. But there was something about his behaviour right now that didn’t seem usual.

Willy stretched out in bed, pulling the knitted toucan out with his beak poking over the blanket. When Abacus went to leave up though, Willy sat right up in bed with a concerned expression. Upon seeing the reaction to the idea of his departure, Abacus paused for a moment.

“How about I stay for a little while?”

His body relaxed at the statement. Willy didn’t quite know why, but he really really did not want to be away from Abacus right now. Pulling up a stool next to the bed, he noted how Willy began to settle at his presence. Thinking for a moment, he asked the question that had been brewing in his mind for the past hour.

“Im not saying this to offend- Willy, but would you say that you sometimes have a little trouble.. staying grown?”

The question startled Willy at first, trying to process what Abacus had just asked him. He thought for a little while, so much so that Abacus could practically hear the cogs turning round and round in his head. That fuzzy feeling in his head, how sometimes everything around him felt so overwhelming. The overstimulating sensation of feeling so vulnerable. He pulled both his knees up to his chin, finding himself chewing on his thumbnail.

“Maybe..”

Abacus put an arm around the boy, who leant into his shoulder. Perhaps this was simply an outlet that he needed, from what he knew about the chocolatier he had to raise himself after his mother died. He also vaguely remembered from reading from an old psychology textbook that this kind of behaviour could be a result of trauma too. A kind of mental regression response.

“Well i don’t see any problem here, it’s okay to need some extra help and support at times.”

Abacus felt an overwhelming urge to take care of this little boy, especially when seeing the way he held onto the little knitted bird. If this was what he required, he was happy to oblige if he needed him. Then he had a thought, remembering what he was doing before all of this.

“Would you like it if I read you a story? I was in the middle of re-reading an old favourite of mine earlier.”

Willy perked up a little, he couldn’t read books very well. Even with Noodles current teachings, he had vague memories of his mother reading to him, so he nodded furiously. With a smile, Abacus rose up from the stool to return to his room, finding the discarded book lying face down on his desk.

Willy was still tucked beneath the covers, waiting in anticipation. With the book tucked under his arm, Abacus took his place on the stool beside.

“Now this is a very good story, it’s called the Wizard of Oz”

So Abacus began to read the story aloud, Willy taking his place by leaning into his shoulder. Feeling the rumble of the man’s chest as his deep baritone voice narrated the book. At first he tried to follow the words with his voice, like how Noodle taught him so. But it became too muddled for him to follow, all the letters seeming to dance around. Instead he focused on the small inked in illustrations, tracing them gently with his fingertip. He paid attention to the story though for as long as he could, but he couldn’t feel his eyelids drooping. He hadn’t even gotten to the second chapter when he could feel himself drifting off, but he felt a sense of peace that he hadn’t felt in quite a while.

Once the chocolatier was well and truly out of the count, Abacus gently closed the book as to not awaken him. Not before tucking the sheet around his sleeping frame, the boys thumb discreetly tucked away in his mouth. With a smile he crept away, deciding to leave the oil lamp to burn itself out Incase he awoke.

“Goodnight dear Wonka.”

[alice-the-demon]

Curious to know more about peddito in your au, whats his backstory, how'd he come to be what he is? Does peppino know about him? Have they met? Is he like a mindless beast or are his thoughts more human-like? Can doise even be killed by peddito in this au if doise is already a demon? I mean you can't die twice, can you? Very curious, would love to know more!

Before I get to your questions it's time for

Hell Tower Lore

So that I can give more context to my answers

Hell is situated in a dimension parallel to Heaven, and it's represented as a huge yet claustrophobic cave with cities in it, and it's divided by four sections in which different stages of Demons end up.

The first stage is Imps, recognizable for the claws, fur, tail, horns and pointy ears. They're the kind of Demons that maintain most of their human traits, and they have different powers depending on the Sin they're most recognizable for. They were humans who, in their earthly life, did some bad/questionable stuff and/or have their moral compass a little junked, but they can be redeemed and become Angels through the help of an Archangel assigned to them.

The second stage is Hell Animals, they lose most of their human traits and become anthropomorphic creatures. You reach this Demon stage or in a direct manner (when you did major bad stuff on Earth) or you get transformed when your behaviour gets worse during your stay in Hell (Pokémon evolution style). They're more difficult to redeem, mostly because they can be extremely rude with everyone and old habits are hard to kill. But through willpower and time they can go back to become an Imp and get them a place in Heaven.

Finally there's the third and final stage of a Demon: the Hell Beasts. They were humans who did unforgivable things (like genocides, destruction of various properties or other stuff) or Hell Animals who sank too deep in their Sin to reel them back in. The Angels call this transformation "the point of no return", for these kinds of Demons there's no chance to redeem them. The Beasts are horrifying, dangerous and gigantic creatures, some with claws or hooves so big to leave prints and others with quills, scales or tusks so big to leave damages wherever they go. They have no love nor compassion in them, their only thought is attack and eat anyone who had the misfortune to meet their black pitch eyes or was stupid enough to venture in the forest with no defence.

The Seven Deadly Sins are the rulers of this infernal place, more powerful than anyone else in Hell but weaker than some high ranked Angels. Together Satan, Beelzebub, Asmodeus, Mammon, Leviathan, Belphegor and (the self proclaimed leader of the bunch) Lucifer rule over the whole Hell, representing the worst in human kind. They all live in a castle at the center of Hell (even though most of the time they fight for the stupidest reasons), their job is to feed the Beasts (to avoid that they exit the forest and eat everyone in Hell) and directing the places each one of them built, which I've talked about previously.

I'll talk about the 7 Deadly Sins in more detail and the creatures born in Hell (Cerberuses, Lava Spirits, Golems, ect) in future posts.

Now, onto the questions you've made:

I don't have a precise backstory for how Peddito became a Beast (mostly because, at least for how much I know, we don't know much about him). So I'll just say that he did some inhuman things.

Peppino doesn't know about Peddito existence.

As I explained before, Beasts have no human thoughts, they only care about survival and eating.

There are two ways to kill a Demon and erase them from existence: or you expose them to the sunlight for a while (unless they're a Deadly Sin, they're immune to the sun's rays) or you badly injure them classic style (the Heaven weapons hurt them more than Earth weapons though).

Fun fact: Angels and Demons blood colours are different from humans, black for the Demons and golden for the Angels.

[astoundingbeyondbelief]

Kaiju Weeks in Review (March 31-April 13, 2024)

It took forever (maybe they were waiting on the returns for Godzilla x Kong), but Apple TV+ has finally greenlit season 2 of Monarch: Legacy of Monsters. According to its listing on the WGA site, it'll run from 2024 to 2025. Multiple spinoffs are also in development at Apple; no details on those yet.

Speaking of Godzilla x Kong, it continues to do well, staying #1 at the domestic box office in its second weekend and falling to #2 (behind Civil War) in its third. Current totals are $158 million domestic and $437 million worldwide. It'll soon pass the domestic gross of Kong: Skull Island and the total gross of Godzilla vs. Kong.

Godzilla vs. The Mighty Morphin Power Rangers II #1 promises more of everything: more heroes (the White Ranger joins our heroes from the first comic), more villains (including Psycho Ranger Ghidora up there), and more alternate universes. Godzilla gets a bit buried in all the Ranger antics though.

A couple of kaiju series debuted on TV too: Kaiju No. 8 and Season 2 of Chibi Godzilla Raids Again. The former followed the manga very closely, and as such didn't really keep my attention; hopefully it innovates a bit more going forward. Chibi Godzilla's as irreverent as ever.

Tsuburaya Productions has released preliminary information on the next installment of the Ultra Series, Ultraman Arc. The logline:

A town called Hoshimoto City... On Mt. Shishio, there is a gigantic object towering above the city. Named "Monohorn," (モノホーン, Monohōn) it is actually a kaiju’s horn stuck in the ground since an incident 16 years ago. After the incident known as "K-DAY" in which kaiju appeared all over the world at the same time, monster disasters have become commonplace. In Japan, the Global Defense Force (GDF) uses force to deal with them, while SKIP works closely with the community in scientific investigations and evacuation guidance to prevent the occurrence and aggravation of kaiju disasters. SKIP has also been investigating the Monohorn, the horn of the galactic beast Monogelos (モノゲロス, Monogerosu) that appeared on K-DAY. Yuma, then only 7 years old, was camping with his parents in Mt. Shishio when Monogelos attacked. After miraculously surviving unscathed, he decided to pursue research into monster biology. Despite his traumatic past, he has not lost his “power of imagination” to dream. As a rookie investigator, Yuma joined SKIP and was assigned to the Hoshimoto City Branch. Not long after, another large-scale monster disaster occurs in Hoshimoto City. As Yuma sees the desperate people in front of him, a strong will springs into his mind — “I want to protect them!” At the moment when this strong and straightforward desire welled up from the bottom of his heart, Yuma hears the voice of Rution  (ルティオン,  Rution) a being of light that he once saw as a child: “You and I are one and the same… Unleash your imagination!” When a mysterious light appears in Yuma's hand and envelops his body, the unleashed power of imagination unites light and man and he transforms into Ultraman Arc, the Giant of Light who protects the future! Alongside his precious friends, Yuma, as well as Ultraman Arc, races towards his everlasting dream!

Yuma is played by Yuki Totsuka, while Takanori Tsujimoto is the lead director. He's directed for the series since Ultraman X, but this is his biggest assignment to date.

After beginning to release select Movie Monster Series figures in the States, Bandai America is now fully back in the Godzilla game, with articulated figures, 5-inch vinyls, blind box figures, and transforming eggs all up for preorder at the Godzilla Store and other toy sites. The eggs come from the 2014 Godzilla-E.G. line and the rest is all-new. Not much of a selection so far, but with how big Godzilla is right now, I'm sure there'll be more to come.

SRS Cinema has opened preorders for its War of the Ninja Monsters: Jaron vs. Goura Blu-ray, due in late July or August. Shinpei Hayashiya's latest epic, it'll come with behind-the-scenes footage and maybe a commentary track, which would be nice given how little information is available about his films online.

[growthgoddess]

Sleep Does a Body Good

Rachel had always been self-conscious about her underdeveloped body during puberty. She had tried everything to make herself look like the other girls in her school, but nothing seemed to work. It wasn't until she went to the doctor and was diagnosed with a hormone deficiency that she realized why her body wasn't developing as it should have been.

The doctor noted that this deficiency will be detrimental to her in the long run and suggested that she undergo hormone therapy to regulate her biochemistry and help her develop the way she should. Rachel was hesitant at first, but she trusted the doctor and decided to give it a try.

One night, as her parents were away for a trip, Rachel slept. She fell into a deep slumber and dreamt of becoming the kind of woman she had always dreamed of being. She was confident, sexy, and powerful. She attracted a handsome man who was drawn to her curves and strength. She felt really good and happy, more elated than how she has always felt.

Little did she know, her body was undergoing a rapid transformation in response to the hormone therapy. It appears that her genetics had reacted violently to the therapy and accelerated her growth. Her curves overdeveloped, audible tearing and button popping occurred, but it wasn't enough to wake Rachel up.

As she enjoyed her deep dream, her muscles grew, and her abdomen formed a 6-pack set of abs underneath. Her body hardened to further emphasize her curves. Rachel continued to transform while she slept, completely unaware of what was happening.

Rachel's body grew bigger and taller, her legs lengthened and reached the end of the bed, while her head was steadily rising up to the headboard. She didn't even notice as her pajamas were tearing and buttons breaking off.

Her bed creaked and groaned under her increasing weight. Nevertheless, she grew bigger and bigger. Soon, her pajamas were nothing more than rags and torn fabric hanging across her majestic body. As soon as her feet touched the ground and her head hit the ceiling, her bed broke under her immense weight. She couldn't be bothered and her snoring became louder and louder as her body continued to grow.

Eventually, Rachel grew so large that she began filling up her entire room. Furniture broke and pots crashed. Her body grew so big that the floor beneath her gave way and she came crashing down to the living room below her.

Her body did not stop and eventually the house broke from the pressure and Rachel spilled over into the neighborhood. People who gathered outside her house to check what the commotion was about started running away in terror as her gigantic body towered over them. But Rachel was still sound asleep, oblivious to the destruction she was causing.

The next morning, Rachel woke up from a beautiful dream and stretched. A loud siren alerted her and she rubbed her eyes to find the source of the sound in her room, only she wasn't in her room anymore but in a miniature version of her neighborhood. She was also surrounded by military personnel.

She looked down at herself and was shocked to see that she was a massive giantess, with curves and muscles that she had never had before.

At first, Rachel was confused by this and realized that she was naked. The soldiers gave her a large tarpaulin to cover herself up, which she did. She took a look at her body and realized that she was still getting bigger. She laughed and marveled at her new healthy body and joined to help the city work on civil projects such as construction, advertising, and transportation. She didn't much mind that she was still growing, the government supported her every need.

Rachel may have started out as a shy, underdeveloped girl, but thanks to her hormone therapy and her unique reaction to it, she had become a powerful and confident woman who could do anything she set her mind to.

[megamuscle885-blog]

A little obsessed with an idea I had for a necromancer who is carrying a whole bunch of disembodied souls around with her. Potential to scale it anywhere from just her close family all the way up to my first thought which was her carrying an entire city-state worth of souls and bones around with her. Pieces of bones working as anchors, three or four intact skeletal guardsman. A gigantic golem made out of the blood soaked earth of her homeland, reinforced with wood from the throne, stones from the barbican, iron from the twisted remains of the armory, inhabited by her liege lord and lady. Her family, her friends, her neighbors, people she met daily, people she had never seen before that ill night when she survived the total ruination of her home and summoned their ghosts to her. Her totems, fetishes, charms and foci are all from her people. The skull of the court wizard transformed into a quasi-demi-lich, incapable of spellcasting under it's own power, but able to teach her what he can. The knucklebones of the thieves that ran the dockyards, granting her luck and foresight depending on how she rolls them. A thousand thousand rib bones from the footmen and guards, which now serve as her armor, protecting her. The femurs of her father, joined together, to serve as a walking stick and club. All of this and more to equip her, but not enough, never enough, that she had managed to scavenge from the rubble. Too much left behind to crack and splinter in the heat of the fires, or buried too deep to recover, or stolen by carrion feasters before she could steal them for herself.

And all around her swirls the dead souls of her city. Some urge her to carry on, one step infront of the other. Some spur her to complete her quest, as vengeful as she. Some beg her to lay down and rest, to move on and forget. Others howl at her to let them die and stay dead. They curse her for carrying them. They are horrified at her mission.

Her mission is vengeance. She has sworn absolute vengeance upon the King and his bloodline, his generals and their armies, his nation and its people. She has sworn to kill every man, woman and child born on the soil of this nation, and any who would shelter them, sworn to desolate the soil itself with the same dark magics she wielded to grant herself the army she needed to enact her revenge. To melt every city within it's borders to ash, burn down every forest, dry up every river and lake, salt every field with tears and corruption until nothing is left except a desolate grey-brown wound is left on the face of the world. And that's her name. "Wound." For what she's suffered, who she is, and what she is going to do. (A bit goofy but I liked it when I first thought of it. Wound, the Necromancer.)

I'm not sure what makes a compelling character. It isn't always their tragic backstory or personal goals. I'm not really sure what it is that really digs a character into my mind and won't let them out. I think it might have something to do with their agency. Behaving like an implacable, unreasonable force of vengeance. Or maybe something to do with their fanbase. I can hear people hypothetically crying out right now about this character, not even written. In tandem with her ghosts, they might decry her genocidal campaign. They might support her, since she was a victim of one. Or a few steps inbetween. I can certainly see this kind of emotionally charged character at the table of Critical Role or Dimension 20, with the fanbase and fellow party members balking at the idea that she'd even cut down children to satisfy her oath.

All of this is because I came across a short saying that in Pathfinder 2e you could get a little ghost bauble that would let you have a ghost pop out and scare someone mid combat. I think it was a Ghost Ampoule. A necromancer with a reason to load up on trinkets like this would be cool. They say you should dig two graves when setting out on a quest for revenge, but this way she won't even need graves at all!

[winter-leftovers]

Til The End Of Eternity || Chapter three: Win Lose or Draal (3/?)

(Douxie Casperan x f!reader)

Summary: Y/n is trying to figure her life out but is going to be hard since her brother is the new trollhunter and she is plagued by dreams and feelings she doesn’t understand.

Chapter Summary: Jim wins a new ally.

Word count: 1046

Warnings: nop

(Season 1 Episode 6)

Song?: Glory And Gore by Lorde

Previous — Next

Masterlist

Trollmarket was beautiful. The underground city was full of colorful lights, even with the market empty the place looked alive. Immediately, Y/n’s eyes found the heartstone. The gigantic cristal and it’s warmth light left her completely speechless, even made her forget, for a moment, the possibility of her brother dying.

“Where’s everyone?” Y/n asked. She was excited to meet Jim’s new friends and the creatures his book depicted.

“Probably waiting for the fight” explained Toby.

“Oh, right” she took her eyes from the heartstone and looked at her brother “Don’t worry if you die I’ll bring you back” she joked.

Jim gave her a half smile. They were both terrible at hiding their fear.

“Master Jim! Welco-ah! Witch” Blinky stopped mid greeting.

“Blinky! This is my sister Y/n!”

“Oh! My apologies, I must've confused her with someone else!”

“You know a lot of humans?” Y/n lifted her eyebrow confused.

“Oh…well” Blinky’s arms fell down to his side but he put them back up fast “Come on, master Jim. A…great warrior always…shows up in time…” he started pushing Jim to the hero’s forge.

At the forge all the trolls were already excited, filled with the rush of battle.

“Hey, I… I want you to have this” Jim gave a letter to Y/n and another to Toby.

“What’s this?” Asked Toby.

“It says everything I want to say”

“You promised me tacos”

“Now is not the time for lunch, Tobes” Jim scoffed.

“Last week, the three of us went for tacos. I paid. You said, ‘Next time on me’ You’re going to get this letter back unopened after the fight, and when you get back, we’ll get tacos”

“He’s right, Jim. You owe him tacos” Y/n smiled.

“Tacos sound good” Jim laughed.

—

“Draal, son of Kanjigar, son of Tarigar, Draal “the destroyer”, come forth.” Vendel, the white troll announced.

A spiky blue rock started rolling down a path, jumping in the air transforming into a big blue troll with six horns.

“That’s Draal?” Y/n whispered to Toby “He’s huge”

“Yeah” he sounded as worried as her.

“And now, Draal’s combatant, James Lake Jr, son of…Bar-bu-rah. Come forth human trollhunter”

The crowd started booig the second they saw Jim.

“Fight from your heart, Master Jim. It’s strong, stronger than any rock” screamed Blinky.

They close the arena and Blinky said quietly to himself “And certainly, stronger than mine”

But Y/n heard him.

“Don’t worry, he’ll be fine.” she reassured “He has to”

Y/n could hear Toby, Aaaarrrgghh and Blinky speak but she couldn’t pay attention to anything they were saying, only the troll trying to kill his brother.

“And, I am Jim, son of Barbara and the amulet choose me”

The flying axes send Draal over the edge of the arena.

“Yes! He did it!” Celebrated Toby.

“It’s not over yet” explained Blinky.

“He has to finish the fight” completed Y/n without taking her eyes off her brother. She had studied the book all night alongside Jim. She knew what her brother had to do next, what the crowd was asking him to do next, they were screaming for death.

Jim grabbed his sword and Y/n closed her eyes. She couldn’t look at her brother killing someone.

Suddenly the crowd was booing again. Y/n opened her eyes and saw her brother standing next to Draal.

“Look, I may not have followed your rules, but neither did the amulet when it chose me. Right now, over our heads, changelings are in Arcadia..”

Fear and confusion filled the room.

Blinky and Toby ran to Jim before he could unveal the secret.

“What is he talking about?” Screamed Vendel.

“You’ll need a Trollhunter who doesn’t have to live in the shadows. This is a time to work together. They’re building the Killahead—“

“STOP! Say no more! We must leave this instant!” Blinky grabbed Jim by the arm.

“Killahead” Y/n repeated. The word left a metallic taste in her mouth.

—

“Oh, praise! You’re alive!” Toby hugged Jim like he would disappear

“And sore. Ease up” Jim chuckled

Aaarrrgghh and Blinky were called by Vendel before they could celebrate the trollhunter’s victory.

“He opened the letter” Y/n laughed.

“I can tell”

“I didn’t” Y/n smiled and gave Jim back the envelope “You can tell what you wrote if you want but I can’t read the words you thought would be your last message to me”

Jim took the letter and smiled back at her.

Y/n turned and started walking. The tears were escaping from her eyes and she didn’t want to be seen like that, especially now, when they were celebrating.

—

“Remember just a normal teenager and his older sister and their normal life” Jim said more to himself than to Y/n.

“Hi, mom. We’re back!" said Y/n while she took her jacket off. A shiver ran through her spine.

‘Strickler?’ She thought. The same uneasiness she felt when she met him was running through her spine again.

She walked behind her brother and saw that it wasn’t Strickler with her mother but a woman.

“In here. Jim, guess who brought tea?”

Jim stopped in front of the woman that was accompanying her mother. Y/n recognised fear flashing in her brother’s eyes but his face suddenly shifted back and started kicking Nomura out. Y/n wanted to stop his brother but Barbara passed out before she could do anything.

“Mom?” She ran to her mother.

“That speech was very moving” The woman left the table “Too bad she won’t remember it when she wakes up and find your body”

She grabbed Jim and threw him to the kitchen.

Y/n hug her mother trying to protect her from the fight.

“What’s going on?” She screamed.

“Go upstairs!” Jim told her sister.

“Jim I won’t …”

“Go!” He screamed while grabbing his backpack looking for the amulet.

She went and hid in the bathroom, her brother quickly joined her.

The troll whistled a song letting them know she was close.

“Not creepy at all” whispered Y/n.

“Yes! Thank you!” Jim grabbed the amulet from behind the mirror.

Before the troll could open the bathroom door someone grabbed her. Y/n and Jim shared a look and went out to investigate. In their backyard, Draal was fighting the troll.

“What are you doing here?” Screamed at the woman-troll.

“Delivering you pain again, Nomura” Draal answered, shielding Y/n and Jim “Do not touch the Trollhunter”

“Suddenly you’re honorable? Sorry to hear about daddy. Bular always liked the way he screamed”

The fight started again and quickly finished when Draal threw Nomura through the air.

“You were right”

“So, you’re not here to kill me?” Jim asked with his sword in his hand.

“Not kill. Protect” Draal looked at Y/n. She smiled at him.

Jim thanked the troll.

Draal quickly started to walk around the house looking for a place to stay.

“Since I can’t go back to trollmarker I’ll stay here, guard your home”

“I don’t think my mom would be down for that” said Jim.

Draal went downstairs to the basement. Eating a piece of coal and taking a couple more out of the heater he said “This is nice. Here I shall protect you, your witch and your fleshbag mother, Bar-bu-rah”

“What did you call me?” Y/n started walking up to him half confused and half offended. Why were the trolls calling her a witch?

Jim stopped his sister from fighting his new protector “Mmmh close enough” he laughed.

“Your mother will awaken soon. I protect. I don’t clean”

Y/n rolled her eyes and went upstairs along side Jim.

[bookfirstlinetourney]

Round 1

It was a dark, blustery afternoon in spring, and the city of London was chasing a small mining town across the dried-out bed of the old North Sea.

-Mortal Engines, Phillip Reeve

As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect.

-The Metamorphosis, Franz Kafka

Alexei Fyodorovich Karamazov was the third son of a landowner from our district, Fyodor Pavlovich Karamazov, well known in his own day (and still remembered among us) because of his dark and tragic death, which happened exactly thirteen years ago and which I shall speak of in its proper place.

-The Brothers Karamazov, Fyodor Dostoevsky

[skelemoonz]

Have you ever wondered when you are drawing transformers or the artists drawing transformers do you have to draw the inside of a transformer's body?

This's such a stupid question I'm so sorry- 🤧🤧⁉️⁉️

This is one I had to think about for a moment lol but if I’m understanding right you are wondering if I ever thought about how the transformers are internally built?

If so, yes absolutely I have, I frequently think about it actually, trying to figure out how they transform, how their body structure can change so drastically (more specifically talking about the live action movies tbh, like Kightverse) it has always fascinated me

To put it simply, I imagine they are built very similar to that of animatronics, if you want to get a visual. The frame/skeleton, the wire’s surrounding it, the plating put above that to act as a base for the shell or muscles of sorts.

More explanation, specifically for my personal au, under the cut. Warning there will be images of animatronics without their..skin? Ig? It can be freaky looking

So, for Cybertronians I imagine that their internal structure is incredibly complex, with their ability to transform an all, but in my au Cyebrtronians have the most complex transformation out of any of the other colonies in turn giving them the most complex internal structure. This isn’t even talking about if a bot has an experimental T-cog lol

While yes the general structure would be the same as I explained before, similar to this, the wires, the plastic plating acting as muscles or as an extra skeleton of sorts

I also imagine that the skeletal structure looks as if it can just be taken apart with ease, because it can.

A Cybertronians skeleton in their transformation will end up forming the skeleton of the vehicle they turn into.

To try giving a visual, ROTB Jackie turns into a VW Van with the back seats taken out, or in other words, hollow inside. Now all that robot jazz gotta go somewhere right? So his skeleton would transform out, pushing the armor out at well to make the shape of the van

to get a good idea of what pose he would be doing for this transformation, look at the ss and mainline figurine, kinda a mix between those. Transformation can be changed with Cybertronains though.

Now, all of this compared to say, Eukarians in my au is very complex. With Eukarians being half organic an all, they have the simplest transformation out of any colony. If they tried transforming like a Cybertronian does, their bones would shatter and they would most definitely die, it’d be like you getting folded and squished into a ball shape, very bad.

While Cybertronians are close to animatronics, I’d say that Eukarians would be more like crustaceans, or actually..maybe like a Pangolin, hard shell outside, organs an all that soft stuff inside (including the half metal half bone skeleton in their case). While a Cybertronians skeleton can come apart, a Eukarians cannot..

Picture of Pangolin to show what it is, show it has armor, this is like a Eukarian, and just look at them I love them

Other colonies tend to be more similar to Cybertron, like Velocitron and Gigantion. Generally speaking these two can transform in the same way that Cyebrtronians can, the only difference is their sizes, Velocitronians are fairly small, not tiny but…lets say (these are not the real heights) that Cybertronains are 20-50ft tall, Velocitronians would be 20-30ft tall, then you got the Titans, they can turn into cities 👍

Ofc this height difference and what they do in day to day life will change their internal and external body structure, Velocitronians are built for speed, their cooling system, sharp points and light frames are meant to make them easily fly and cut through the air while they drive like its nothing. Hell even their transformation is quicker than usual. They’re like land jets

Then theres Caminus and Junkion, these two don’t transform, they have T-cogs but they rarely ever use them to do big transformations, for Camians it was to reserve energy (they are also the smallest colony in size) and Junkonians found no use for it. So yes over the centuries these colonies have lost their ability to do complex transformations, meaning their skeleton is similar to Eukarians, can’t come apart, but it’s very flexible.

I imagine they’re more similar to this underneath all that armor. At least Camian’s..Junkonians are very messy tbh

Anywho, man I rambled…a lot..yeesh..my bad lol, I don’t get to talk about this stuff a lot

[darkersoul]

Squit

Squit!

So, what is Cthulhu. Seemingly simple answer, he's just the big guy in the ocean with the octopus head, right? He's dead but will come back some day, he broadcasts his dreams, HPL is pretty explicit about Big C, going so far as to draw him on multiple occasions. Pretty uncomplicated.

And I hate uncomplicated (when it comes to Mythos beasties) so let's talk about my Cthulhu.

There exists a force which has been interpreted and reinterpreted by various cultures which have interacted with its influence. It is localized at a central point which appears at seemingly random times, a strange and gigantic formation of stones that give the appearance of a great city. There is a biological mass under these stones. How large? Completely unknown, as it has never left, if it even can.

This mass, this force, this being, it is a massive psychic explosion, continuously transmitting itself to the brains of those sensitive to feel it. Those touched by its outreach are driven to acts they never thought possible, given knowledge they should never have, seeing the distant future and past. Pacifist philosophers become serial killers, violent criminals become sensitive artists. The devout priest denounces their faith, and the staunch atheist claims he saw angels.

On rare occasions, these psychic phenomenon become physically manifest. They follow no laws of physics, are nit made of matter, but are very much real. The Deep Ones call the manifestation they witness Dagon. We know one as the creature depicted in the famed idol of the Louisiana Swamp Cult. But these are not Cthulhu, just his pure psychic energy given manifest. The thing that slumbers under R’lyeh is much larger, much more terrible, and constantly casting it's horrible influence on the Earth.

Thematically, Cthulhu is about the end of the world. Specifically, it's about the inevitability of the end. It's the crushing ocean-like pressure of knowing that nothing you do will matter in the end. Like. It represents total control, the perfect storm, the end of days that could never be avoided with every step meticulously placed. Not an uncaring cosmos, but a cosmos so perfectly designed to fuck you over.

It's a realization that transforms you. Some people find it freeing. Toss aside your morals, your responsibilities, nothing matters anyways! Kill and revel and enjoy yourself! This is the only time you get before it crushes you underfoot.

[outofgloom]

RETURN TO VO-METRU

The crackling thunder of the static dischargers echoed across vast green distance. The air was heavy with the smell of ozone. In the valley below, Vo-Metru was a crystal lattice, pulsing at the center of crisscrossing leylines.

She had only returned there one other time after the transformation. Her duties had kept her busy in other lands, fighting...protecting...enforcing the will of the Great Spirit. But for a time, early on, she had thought that some day...maybe...she could go back.

"That’s not how it works, Chiara.” The Turaga chuckled, “The path you are on now takes you away from the mundane workings of our city. It is a great honor to be so elevated; to become greater than you were! Is it not?”

“It is an honor,” she said dryly.

“And anyways--your labors here were inconsequential compared to what you have now accomplished. We have heard good things about your work in the East and West. Lonely missions, to be sure, but vital to the health of the world--and from one so newly elevated! You make Vo-Metru proud.”

“Glad to hear it, Turaga.”

“I foresee only greater success in future.” The Turaga smiled, tapping the forehead of her mask.

“And I should know, should I not?”

**********

Chiara fell heavily against hard stone as her legs gave way. The thick metal doors slammed shut behind her and sealed at her command. It would not hold the thing for long, she suspected. Her concentration was already ebbing--it was an effort to keep the systems of the lab in lockdown. She would not be able to maintain her hold on the electrical mechanisms much longer.

She pulled her legs up and tried to stand. Something clattered on the ground beneath her, and she sickened at the realization: It had touched her, back there in the annex. The process was beginning...just like Orde. Her legs...

She began to crawl forward, dragging herself along the smooth floor as fast as possible, toward the door at the other end of the hall. Quickly now.

An immense sound rolled through the air as she struggled--the sound of metal rending and buckling, blunting against a gigantic fist. The lights in the corridor flickered and she almost lost her grip, but they did not go out.

Again the sound of impact smashed against her ears. Boom. She glanced backward. The door was wrinkling like cloth behind her. She heaved forward and reached the door on the other end of the hallway. It was still sealed, and she was too weary to exert enough control to open it while keeping the other locked. Out of options. Out of time.

Boom. She sat with her back against the door, noted the likely discharge points down the corridor: the power lines affixed to the left wall, ten or so light fixtures, a sensor or weapons-port of some kind on the right, the servos of the door itself. It would have to be enough.

Boom. The door buckled further. Aim for the eye, Chiara.

Boom.

She furrowed her brow.

Boom. Now, on the drawback.

The door lurched open at her command, and the titan called Marendar staggered through the opening, striking sparks on the metal frame as its fist struck empty air. The lights went out, leaving only its red eye glowing in the darkness. Chiara heaved forward, hand pointing at her opponent, every last reserve of elemental strength thrown into the effort. 

Lightning poured from every surface around the target. Power lines ruptured and exploded in fiery sparks as the lab’s generators overloaded. The corridor filled with white-hot arcs of discharging electricity, all under Chiara’s control, all aimed at that one red point...

**********

“What are you doing here?” the supervisor asked.

“Hello to you too, Laaha.”

“Oh, uh...well...yes, hello Toa Chiara. What can I do for you? Did the Turaga send you?”

“No, I came on my own. I thought I would just stop by to see if you’re all doing alright. It’s been some time.”

“Ah. Yes, doing fine. All working and accounted for, as you can see.”

Laaha gestured toward the other Matoran working on the power conversion line. Chiara realized that she didn’t recognize any of them.

“That’s good to hear. Where are Keeya and Roghi and the others? Are they on rest today? I had hoped to see them.”

“Oh, no, no. They were...uh...reassigned, you see.”

“Reassigned? Why?”

“That’s how things go. Better work for them elsewhere, you know...”

“They were multi-centenarians at this station, Laaha. Just like you and me. They wouldn’t be reassigned without good reason.”

“Well...it’s not for me to question, I guess.”

“Laaha--”

“I really shouldn’t--”

“Tell me what happened.”

There was a long silence. The sound of the conversion station filled the air. The other Matoran politely ignored Chiara.

“It was...it was Keeya at first--wouldn’t stop talking about what had happened to you. Elevation to Toa and all that. She got all...imaginative about it. Too imaginative.”

“What does that mean?”

Laaha dropped her voice lower: “Well, if you could become a Toa, why not any of us? That’s what she said. Roghi started to talk too. Pretty soon, they weren’t...well...They weren’t satisfied with ‘Matoran work’.”

“Matoran work...”

“Yeah, you see my problem, Chiara? That kinda talk is--”

“I get it, Laaha. I get it. And the Turaga reassigned them?”

“Yes. You’ve gotta realize...it’s not that uncommon when a Matoran is chosen. Some people can’t handle it. Makes them think too big.”

Chiara gave Laaha a long, scrutinizing look. She opened her mouth to say something.

“Excuse me, honored Toa, but may I have a word?”

The voice came from behind her. She turned. Another Matoran supervisor. There was visible relief in Laaha’s eyes.

“I trust you have found our power conversion station to be running at top capacity, yes?”

Chiara shook herself. “Yes, excellent work...both of you.”

“That is good. And now, I mean no disrespect, but ‘time is energy’ as the saying in Vo-Metru goes. Don’t you have better things to do? Hero things?”

“Not at the moment.”

“Well...again I mean no disrespect, but I dare say with your height and size you are somewhat getting in the way. In fact, the electrical field you generate is throwing off some of our calibrations.”

“Ah, my mistake.”

“Yes, I’m sorry, Toa Chiara, but I’m going to have to ask you to move along. This is Matoran work, after all. Not worth your attention.”

“Very well, goodbye. And goodbye to you, Laaha.”

“Goodbye, Toa.”

**********

It was nearly pitch black, now that the power reserves of the lab had been burnt out. Chiara scuttled backward through the now-open doorway. She could hear the titan moving in the rubble a few bio away, already recovering from the electrical blast, in all likelihood.

She slipped and sprawled on her back in the darkness, tried to raise herself up again. Another wave of sickness. Her left arm was now gone as well, disassembled into its component parts. Curse that thing.

Still she struggled on. Her remaining arm began to burn with the effort of dragging her body, slowly, down the endless corridor. It was almost pointless, wasn’t it? She would never make it back to the entrance-silo in her condition, much less be able to drag herself up the winding stairs. She could only hope that Gelu or Zaria had managed to escape and could somehow send a message south. The message would be grim, whatever it said. Orde’s last words echoed in her mind:

The Great Beings will not help us. We are on our own.

Movement in the dark. The titan was very stealthy for its size and bulk. There was no reason for stealth though, at this point: She was spent. She could move no further. The red light approached.

“You,” she said quietly as the hunter drew nearer. “You are like we were, long ago, aren’t you?”

It seemed silly, talking to the thing, but there was nothing else for her to do.

“I don’t remember so well anymore,” she continued, speaking raspily to the darkness, “but we used to live only for...for finishing the task. Following the rules, you know? Thinking about nothing else. You--you’re like that, aren’t you? They made you that way.”

Red light fell upon her at last, and a giant hand gripped her shoulder, lifting her from the floor. For a split second she saw that the maw which formed the center of the titan’s chest had unhinged itself, widening to consume her, just like it had Orde. She did not scream.

But then...nothing happened. She hung suspended, and the great eye regarded her passively. There was no malice--no rage or triumph--only grim efficiency and determination...

And maybe something else. Something that said...Say what you have to say.

“You’re...You’re supposed to hunt and kill Toa, right?” she said haltingly. “That’s what Orde told us, before you...”

The eye stared. She stared back.

“Well, if you’re wondering, I certainly didn’t ask to be a Toa,” she said. “I would’ve happily spent my days doing my work, small and insignificant. Matoran work they called it, like it was all that bad...”

No change. But still...this was different.

“I suppose greater powers had other plans for me. That’s how it always is, isn’t it? Does that matter to you? Do you care?”

Nothing.

“Well,” she continued, almost laughing, “seems the Great Beings don’t care about me anymore, even after all my Toa work...in the service of them or Mata Nui or whoever. And you know what I think? I think that means they won’t care about you either, once your task is done.”

There was a creak of metal. The titan’s grip on her shifted. Chiara breathed in.

“And if you don’t believe me, titan, monster, Marendar--whatever your name is--then finish your task already...”

The red eye withdrew its gaze from her. She readied herself. Green distance, and the smell of ozone.

“...and you’ll find out sooner rather than later.”

[eternal--returned]

Many people in the world of science, however, especially among the young, had unconsciously come to regard the 'affair' as a touchstone of individual values. All things considered, they claimed, it was not simply a question of penetrating Solarist civilization, it was essentially a test of ourselves, of the limitations of human knowledge. For some time, there was a widely held notion (zealously fostered by the daily press) to the effect that the 'thinking ocean' of Solaris was a gigantic brain, prodigiously well-developed and several million years in advance of our own civilization, a sort of 'cosmic yogi,' a sage, a symbol of omniscience, which had long ago understood the vanity of all action and for this reason had retreated into an unbreakable silence. The notion was incorrect, for the living ocean was active. Not, it is true, according to human ideas—it did not build cities or bridges, nor did it manufacture flying machines. It did not try to reduce distances, nor was it concerned with the conquest of Space (the ultimate criterion, some people thought, of man's superiority). But it was engaged in a never-ending process of transformation, an 'ontological autometamorphosis.' (There were any amount of scientific neologisms in accounts of Solarist activities.) Moreover, any scientist who devotes himself to the study of Solriana has the indelible impression that he can discern fragments of an intelligent structure, perhaps endowed with genius, haphazardly mingled with outlandish phenomena, apparently the product of an unhinged mind. Thus was born the conception of the 'autistic ocean' as opposed to the 'ocean-yogi.'

Stanislaw Lem ֍ Solaris (1961)