#twl event | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nitrosodiumofficialuses · 1 year ago

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Games Research

Doing this now so I can focus on other things later.

Terraria is the first game I'll cover. Its art style, while immediately seen as "simple" from the fact that it is pixelated, is actually rich with detail. There are loads of variations for even basic dirt textures, accounting for whatever kinds of slopes and ridges can form when building or digging. Little insects fly about the screen, backgrounds scroll smoothly with little details like chinese lanterns and several transitory sub-biomes that the screen will change to when moving between regions. The colour palette is used to its fullest as you literally travel to Hell and back, going into multiple biomes with totally different aesthetics and colourings. This creates a good feeling of exploration, cementing Terraria as a fantasy game, with a reasonably fantastical setting to boot. It doesn't claim to be realistic, therefore it can go totally overboard with its world design.

Dave The Diver is a game I've seen on Steam, and supposedly it's quite good. Looking into it, it's got some great art direction. The deep blues of the ocean contrasting with the colourful coral bring me right back to my days of playing Subnautica in early 2019. The level architecture itself slips into the blocky, minimalist niche that Minecraft undeniably carved out, but there's something interesting going on with the depth of the game world (no pun intended). I think perhaps it uses voxels, which is always cool, though not a look that fits every game. Dave seems to control very snappily, instantly clipping to a position instead of smoothly moving to it. The way you catch fish in this game, lining up a target with a speargun before reeling it in with a quick-time event is very cool. As previously detailed, I planned a harpoon gun for TWL, but removed it. The weapon works very well in the world of Dave The Diver, as the titular diver is small compared to the level environment, hence aiming is more important.

Eternal Castle - Now this is a very interesting game, mostly as it claims to be a remake of an old 80s game that never existed. This one is relatable to me on several levels; I often watch MandaloreGaming videos on forgotten adventure games such as Limbo Of The Lost, made even stranger by Mandalore's tendency to add or remove sound effects from his videos, blurring the line between what is actually part of the game, and what's an editing trick utilized to mess with the viewer. Second thing, the artstyle. I couldn't quite explain it at first, but then it suddenly clicked. This game has "printer ink visuals", it only uses cyan, yellow and magenta primarily, and then combines them to make other colours that show up regularly like black. It's absolutely unique, and is just the sort of thing a low-budget 80s game might do to get around system restrictions. There are other interesting myhouse.wad-esque ARG elements within the game files, but that's not massively related to what I'm researching. From what I understand, the gameplay is mostly combat-related, resembling something akin to Prince Of Persia though considerably more minimalist. The animations and gunplay lend themselves to the kind of silhouetted rotoscoped nightmare fuel popularised by FAITH, and definitely creates a kind of uncanny fear expressed through a being your mind can't distinguish as a human: all you know is, it moves like a human, you can't see a face, and it's running towards you. The idea of not knowing being scarier is exacerbated through the anachronistic storytelling performed through the files released in preparation for the game.

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thewasteland-rp · 7 years ago

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ANNOUNCING: PARA EVENT THE MONOLITH

Location: McGuire Air Force Base & Monolith Event: Para Event Time: Saturday 4/7 @ 8AM EST

→ the mission

For months now, the Monolith has been towering on the horizon, an ever present threat risen up from Hell itself. Casting its shadow on those gathered together inside the walls of the base. The dead have been steadily wandering closer, the haunting sound of baying hounds echoing over the frozen ground, and the signs of a larger, more ferocious beast left in the splattering of blood on snow.

With the image of a it’s rotting Lord left in the minds of the prophets, a more violent assault is an inevitability. The only question is when. With that in mind, there are those who have decided to strike first, and it leaves everyone faced with a choice; to run and abandon their safe haven, or to face the dungeons of the Monolith and destroy what waits inside.

FOR THE PLAYERS:

LIKE this post if you’d like to participate, please COMMENT if you’d like to participate with more than one character.

Details on the event will be posted when assigned partners are posted.

The event will take place over the course of twenty-four hours, but may be finished up whenever threads are over.

Please remember to prioritize your event para, as it will affect other characters and the group as a whole.

Any major injuries, character death, possessions, infections, or other major plot devices must be approved by an admin first.

Feel free to contact either admin if you have any ideas you’d like to discuss!

#twl event #twl update #event: monolith

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memoriesoftomorrow · 7 years ago

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Shattered Souls | Shia&Niko

@naecromantic

Dawn bloomed, sending pale winter light sinking over everything. Shia could barely see it, the stream was too strong today. Not the grey quiet like usual though, with barely audible echoes eddying around her ankles. No. This was different. The fresh wound on her back had told her that much. It explained the red misty fog that had settled over everything in her sight. Death omens hanging heavy in the air. Someone was going to bleed today. She just wasn’t sure who.

Shia had dressed in the dark, layer after layer. Every last one of her knives, big and small strapped along her arms, her ribs, her legs. A small pistol tucked into the back of her jeans. The vision hadn’t shown her much, but it was enough.

So she was there when they assaulted the Monolith, its dark finger reaching towards the sun trying to blot it out. The gates blew up and she rushed past them, past empty staircases and doors that led up or down.

She wasn’t sure if anyone was with her, or if she moved alone. Only of the handle of the blade in her hand, and the moaning voices that danced along the walls in horror. She had seen this. She was going the right way.

She heard them before she saw them. A screaming maw of voices curling up from the well in the floor. She recognized it from the flashes, felt the new wound in her back remind her that she was actually here. This was Now, and this was where she’d been meant to go.

Souls spiraled up from the vicious rent in the floor, and even before the bones began to clatter she could feel it. Death omens all around her from the red fog that hadn’t cleared when she’d returned to the Now, just no telling if it would her death, or theirs.

#c: Niko #Niko: 001 #naecromantic #twl event

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theruinous · 7 years ago

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The feeling comes right before his hand settles on the door.

It’s a familiar thing. It’s a house too quiet, the light out over the kitchen sink when Claire always left it on for him. It’s broken glass on his living room floor, a picture shattered that echoes the broken family he comes home to. The unease is the same. The sense of dread, crawling slowly up his spine. Barely able to breathe, because he’s waiting for the next painful blow to fall.

His hand hovers over the door. His skin left crawling, because he knows he will open it, and everything will change.

It makes Daniel want to turn around, to leave and go back the way he came. Retreat down the hallway, find Ezra, gather Naomi back into his arms. Her blood is still staining the floor on the other side of the door. He still feel the life leaving her small frame, the sensation of blood spilling over his fingers no matter how hard he tried to press it back into her veins. And that alone is enough to make him want to run, because he can barely feel anything but that awful sinking sensation, and he thinks now that it’s death breathing down the back of his neck. Something is wrong. Everything is wrong.

His fingers tighten on the door. His heart thunders in his chest, he can hear his own blood rushing in his ears. He turns the handle and pushes it open.

-blood, staining the carpet-

There’s blood on the floor. He sees that first, a flicker of red at his feet that he saw slip from between Naomi’s hands before she fell like a broken bird before him. His gaze follows it, only now there’s more of it, a wider trail winding its way past the couch. Too much, thick and dark, smeared across the ground by someone’s worn soles, all of it ending at the only inevitable conclusion. The dark lump near the bed.

Somewhere outside the window a cloud shifts, moonlight slips through and silver light settles on crumpled mass.

His eyes catch that bright blonde hair first. Splayed across the floor and streaked with red, and it's painful just how familiar that image is. Her eyes are open, orbs like frosted, shattered glass. A bright red line drawn across her throat, covered by someone else's calloused fingers. Her hands are still grasping at Ezra’s arms.

They’re curved protectively around her, one hand still trying to hold the wound across her neck closed. Daniel's eyes find his in the darkness, searching for that light to shine back at him. But there’s nothing, eyes just as wide, just as open and dead. The same red line across his throat, and his gaze shifts away. Finds the tattoo on his neck instead, traces the path of them, memorizes every sharp curve with a forced detachment because it’s easier than looking at his face.

The scene’s familiar. Every part of it, they way they curl against each other, the coldness in the air from the absence of life or breath.

He could run to them, but they’re already dead.

Daniel doesn’t move. He stays in the doorway, gaze skating away from the fallen bodies, because he doesn’t want to see anymore. He doesn’t want that image in his head, when he knows it isn’t real.

That at least, he knows with absolute certainty.

If it were he'd already be screaming, grasping at the bodies and begging them not to leave him. Not to be the only one left in this wasteland, that bracelet around his wrist and pale memories left to hold onto. He doesn't want this one added to it. He lets out a breath, shuts it away, lets his gaze skate across the bloody stain on the floor, because even that isn’t real.

And then something changes.

The atmosphere shifts. It’s a subtle change, but he’s too aware of it, brow furrowing as he watches the light in the room seem to waver. Like someone changing channels, a flicker across his vision, a moment out of time that he’s missed.

His gaze moves back to the bodies.

And his blood runs cold. This time, it’s a more familiar sight. This time, it’s Claire. Smooth, dark skin, curls splayed across the ground, the rest matted to the side of her head with blood. She’s still wearing his tee shirt, soft gray heather, Batman symbol emblazoned on the front, checkered pajama shorts, ring around her finger.

His chest constricts tightly, and he knows this isn’t real either. She’s already dead and gone. He knows it’s just as much of an illusion as the sight of Ezra lying in her place.

But it’s the first time he’s seen her in years. And he misses her. The sound of her voice, quietly singing beneath her breath. The softness of her hands, thumbs smoothing the lines between his brow, interrupting the fierce concentration he devoted to files filled with bloodied portraits of death.

Some desperate part of him wants to close that space between them, as if this time when his hand grasps at her shoulder it’ll be enough to wake her back up.

It’ll be enough to save her.

Only his gaze shifts, follows the curve of her arm, the way it wraps around the body of their son, and the urge to wail follow. His boy. His son, the kid that used to clamber onto his shoulders, fingers grasping too tightly at his hair. The child that used to laugh too loudly, genuine glee lighting up his face, sparking in eyes the same shade as his mother’s. And now they’re the same kind of empty.

-at this point the son attempted to hide under the bed, while Claire-

-don’t-

He can’t breathe. He knows it isn’t real. He knows this has already happened, and there’s nothing here that he hasn’t seen before. But it still hurts, he still feels like screaming, he still can’t tear his gaze away from the yellow and black pattern of his child’s pajamas.

-while the mother went for the gun kept in the top drawer of the dresser. the assailant caught up to her before she could get the case unlocked, stabbing her three times in the lower back before she collapsed-

-the son must have cried out at that point, evidence suggesting he was then dragged out from underneath the bed. judging by the blood trail and the wounds on her hands, we believe the mother then attacked her assailant. she was stabbed again in the abdomen-

-he then turned the knife on the boy-

-his throat cut from ear to ear-

-the mother’s hand was still on his neck in an attempt to hold the blood in when their attacker slit her throat-

The image in front of him isn’t real. Daniel knows that. Even through the aching breaths he struggles to draw, he knows none of this isn’t real.

The memory is.

He holds onto it for too long, like some form of self-punishment, and then he shuts them tightly. Blocks out the image, shuts down all the grief and the pain that threatens to come crashing down around him all over again. None of it is real. Everything in this place is wrong.

And it’s with his eyes closed that he becomes slowly aware that he isn’t alone in this room.

It isn’t the bodies he thinks will still be there when he opens them. It’s something else, the presence of someone else. Like quiet breaths, the sound of white static on a dead television, an electronic hum that echoes through telephone wires. Someone else is in the room.

His eyes slide open. There’s still blood on the floor. It’s Ezra and Naomi curled around each other near the bed. His gaze skates over them, past them. To the bed sitting empty, back over the blood stains to the couch sitting in the middle of the room, the chair arranged next to it. The shadows that seem somehow thicker, somehow darker.

“Who’s here?” he demands.

His own voice almost startles him with how loud it is, enough to crack ice, and he’s aware of an abrupt silence following. His fingers settle on the handle of his gun, thumb unlatching the holster.

“I know someone’s here,” he tries again. “Show yourself.”

Another breath of silence. A heartbeat. He stands, tense and anxious, gaze darting around the room for that something, that sign that he isn’t alone here.

The man appears in the blink of an eye. Daniel’s lids slide closed, and when they open again someone is sitting in the chair next to the couch. He knows him the second he lays eyes on him, or at least who he’s supposed to be. And the thoughts are at odds with each other, something surreal and supernatural about every second ticking by in this room.

He looks like Sykes. He holds himself the same, smiles the same. He looks like he did his last night on earth, cocky, self-assured, watching Daniel with a vague curiosity reflecting back at him, as if daring him to step outside the hard lines drawn around him.

“Hello detective,” he says.

Daniel’s fingers don’t stray from his gun. “Who are you?"

Laughter greets him. He winces at the sound of it, because it’s a grating thing, nails over a chalkboard, the snapping of guitar strings. “That’s it? No hello, no nice to see you?”

Once he might’ve played alone. When he’d been Detective Tseng, the man who hadn’t already lost everything at the hands of the monster standing in front of him. He can’t summon anything now except that same question. “Who are you?”

The smile widens. Silence greets him for a moment, a beat out of time. “You don’t recognize me?” His head tilts to the side, and then he’s pressing himself from the chair. The motion slow, and he thinks it’s a purposeful thing, because the urge to draw that weapon at his side is stronger than it’s ever been. “Maybe this will jog your memory.”

His head straightens. Red begins to bloom across his chest.

-the muzzle flash is bright and loud in the dark alleyway, three quick blasts that echo off the walls, the scent of gunsmoke hanging thick and heavy in the aftermath. they punch holes in his chest, the man crying out in pain, feet stumbling backwards-

-it isn’t enough. there are still bullets in his gun, the man’s still struggling for air, his family’s still dead, they’re dead at his hands, his son’s throat cut open.-

-the next two punch holes in his stomach. Sykes falls to his knees after that. he says something, it might be a plea for mercy, it might be curses, Daniel never hears any of it. the next shot tears a hole through his neck. blood hits the ground in brighter waves after that. he’s stepping closer, he pulls the trigger again, there’s a bullet tearing through the man’s forehead, blood and brain matter scattering across the ground behind him. he shoots him again, and again, and again-

-and he should be satisfied, it should count for something, but he doesn’t feel anything-

They appear one by one, wounds inflicted by Daniel’s gun, at Daniel’s hands, flesh melting as he mimics the bullet that tore through his throat, a hole appearing in his forehead. Another through his eye. He’s rotting in front of him, the body of a dead murderer standing in front of him. A haunting image that shouldn’t exist.

And it doesn’t. None of it’s real. At least, none of what he sees, but there’s an awful pressure bearing down on him, the certainty that someone or something is standing there in front of him. The rest is just a show, and Daniel holds his gaze and his voice steady.

“Sykes is gone. Who are you?”

There’s a flicker, something like fury slipping across the face of Jeffery Sykes, a crack in that illusion that he can’t tell is revealed intentionally or not. It shifts, contorts, like a black-eyed man who didn’t know how to wear human skin. And the voice that comes from his throat sounds nothing like his rasping tones. It’s something far worse. “I am the road into madness, child. To gaze upon me is to gaze into the abyss.”

Daniel’s spine stiffens the moment he hears that voice. Something inhuman, ancient and old, and there’s a fierce and violent reaction somewhere inside his chest. A sensation that’s becoming more and more familiar, something set aflame behind his ribs

His eyes slide closed, the rush of blood in his ears trying to combat the screeching of something metallic and discordant ringing in his ears.

He isn’t aware of it, but when his eyes open they’re burning gold.

And he can see.

Everything shifts, an illusion stripped away, and it isn’t a welcoming, clean room anymore. The floors are stained with red and black, old blood long dried and covered again with fresh crimson until the ground’s made tacky with it. The walls are shredded, lines drawn over and over again against its surface like someone or countless someones trying to claw their way free. The bed is rotted, the couches the same, and the room smells like sulfur and ash.

It isn’t a man that stands in front of him. He doesn’t look like Sykes anymore. It resembles a man only in the most basic sense, the limbs all in the same place, the head where it’s meant to be. Those feel like the only similarities, because when his mouth curves in a smile, it’s something wicked and feral, the edges of his mouth dragging up too far, until his skull itself looks split in half. Features barely visible behind the shadows that rise and collect around him, like smoke rising off a burning ember.

His eyes, the gaze that greets Daniel’s, are burning red pits, and he thinks yes, this is what it means to gaze into the abyss. Because there is only death and horror reflecting back at him, the murder of his child committed a thousand times. Ezra’s father, his mother, his brother, the two women that took him and claimed him as their own, slaughtered again and again. Naomi’s mother, sliding that knife in between her ribs until there is only red staining her hands.

It’s the screaming of dying loved ones, trapped in flames. It’s every parent that abused their child, and left them huddled and terrified with too many scars littering their skin. It’s the death of everyone here, everyone they ever knew, a thousand ghosts dancing in those red flames.

He can taste the ash on the air, falling slowly from the ceiling, and it’s a long time before the question finally escapes him, some odd role reversal taking place.

"What are you?

The creature takes a step forward. His spine stiffens, hand curving tighter around the gun at his side. Black malevolence rising off it in waves, and he can feel it, spreading through the house, playing at the edges of every thought and every sight he’s witnessing now. “I am a Marquis of Hell.” There’s a shaking in the walls when he speaks. Another step forward, that pressure bearing down on Daniel’s shoulders until he can barely breathe. “You should kneel before me.”

Another step, and instead Daniel’s drawing his gun. “You should put your hands on your head.”

A noise rips from the throat of the thing in front of him. Something like laughter, awful and vicious as it shakes the foundations of the house. “You dare? You are nothing to me. You worry for that blonde child of yours? You worry for how much she sees?” He tips his head forward, the flash of white teeth in the darkness. “I’ll tear her eyes from her skull. I’ll break every bone in her body and leave her helpless and blind until the hounds of hell devour her.”

There’s another step forward. It’s an effort to hold his place, but there’s a dull burning fury roaring to life in his chest. Something violent and cold, the certainty that some things were too dangerous to let live.

“The man you brought back here. You want his heart? I’ll rip it from his chest, and then I will feed it to you a piece at a ti-”

It’s enough. He doesn’t wait for the words to finish falling like an order of execution. The second he shifts closer Daniel is pulling the trigger. Three quick shots, fired into his chest, the blast bright and loud, echoing in his ears afterwards.

Black scatters away from the bullets, like firing into shadow.

It looks down at the steaming holes before his head lifts again, skull splitting open in that awful grin again. Before a clawed hand reaches out, and he feels something slam with violent force into his chest. His feet leave the ground, and then there’s the bright, violent pain of his back crashing into the wall behind him, head snapping against plaster before he’s falling again, body collapsing to the ground.

#selfpara;#para;#twl event #death tw #blood tw #trauma tw #if anyone needs anything else tagged let me know!#D:

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heavendestroys · 7 years ago

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To the deadly coldness of the eyes, To the fact that the world is cruel and depraved, To the fact that God did not save. Anna Akhmatova

This is the taste of ruin: of loss.

Ash on the tongue, the scent of smoke and sulfur in the air. Rotten eggs and burned metal, signs of hell and damnation all too present. Hanging thick and heavy in the hallway, an image of opulence, of decadence, now turned to a slaughterhouse. There’s blood on the walls, it coats the ground, sinks into the carpet, so thick Zoe can hear it squishing beneath her feet.

She steps over a body. One of many. Neck twisted at an abrupt right angle, until bone protrudes and she can see white among the red. Here lies Samson, savior of men.

“Where are you?” Her voice echoes off the walls, something light and sing-song. A call for the one still missing, the body not among those torn apart.

Only it isn’t her, it isn’t her it isn’t her it isn’t her.

Someone else directs her feet to move. Pulls her strings as though she is nothing but a puppet. One foot and then the other, the string pulls tight, she tilts her head and smiles down at one of the corpses. She crouches down, fingers brushing a soft, pale cheek. She pushes blonde hair from Naomi’s face, pulls her eyes open wider because that image is better. One last image of fear, of terror, echoed by the empty hole in her chest where her heart used to be. It’s been torn out, the girl’s strongest feature left sitting on the ground next to her.

In the back of her mind Zoe screams. over and over again, no no no no nonononono

Because the Bishops are cursed, right?

She rises back to her feet in a fluid motion. Steps over the dead girl and leaves her there to rot nothing left but meat and bone. Out of all the corpses, he is still not among them.

Boots press down against a man’s chest. He’s still choking on his own blood, lips parted and struggling to find air. She presses down until he coughs up red. Veins slit open, wrists bleeding crimson onto the ground next to him. Skin wasted and pale, and she can only think that all that blood doesn’t mean anything if he’s simply drained of it.

She presses down harder with the heel of her boot. “Shh, shh,” she tells him quietly. There’s a smile on her lips, but her eyes are blackened. She can see the fear, the hurt, the despair gazing back up at her. Her hand covers his mouth. “Time to let go.”

It doesn’t take long for him to go still. She abandons him there and continues on. Along the walls, the portraits sit crooked and scorched, landscapes and paintings and art made better for the red that’s splattered upon the frames. She trails her fingers along them, leaves them stained a better color. Steps around the pile of corpses left there, Nora’s back against the wall, her son’s pressed against her chest because they were dead long before her. She smiles at the image.

In her head she can’t stop screaming. She fights and wails against the motion of her own hands, her legs, her arms. Tries to drag her body down, but the demon taking up residence inside her skin doesn’t listen, doesn’t care.

Listen. Watch. This is what the future looks like. This is what it has always looked like.

“Ezekiel...”

A blast of a gun heralds his arrival. The bullet thuds into the wall next to her head, but she doesn’t believe he missed on accident. He’s a better shot with that, and the demon knows it because Zoe knows it. No matter how hard she tries to keep her brother to herself, screaming silently because she can’t lock those pieces away, because there are black fingers digging through her head, ripping out every memory of Ezekiel Bishop she’s held onto so tightly.

A laugh escapes her. Tinny, unfamiliar, a sound that doesn’t belong to her because she’s trapped in her head and she can’t stop screaming. But she can feel everything, the slickness of blood on her fingers, the taste of it on her tongue. She can see everything, the man that steps into the light. The one leveling a gun at her head.

This is how their father died. Their mother.

The look on her brother’s face says this is how Zoe will die too.

Carved into the very image of agony, a stone statue of Atlas being crushed beneath the weight of the world, his shoulders bending, his jaw clenched until she can see the tendons straining. But it’s his eyes she locks in on, the way they seem to bleed when he looks at her.

“Ezekiel,” she says again. Smile wretched and cruel. “Where have you been?”

She holds her arms out to the side. The bodies around her start to lift off the ground, hovering feet above the ground so he can view them properly. “Look at them,” she says. “Look into the faces of those you’ve failed. Look into your sister’s eyes.”

In her head, Zoe begs him to just pull the trigger. Over and over again, a mantra she can’t force off her tongue, the demon simply laughing at her desperate attempts. This body isn’t hers now, she’s nothing but a vessel once again, only this time there’s nothing holy lighting up her veins. Just that darkness she’d always been terrified would claim her next, the legacy passed down to her by dead parents. She screams and strains, begs god and all the angels to give her enough strength to just tell him goodbye. Tell him it’s not his fault, tell him she doesn’t blame him. The Bishops are cursed. It would always end this way.

“Let her go,” Zeke says. Gravel in his throat. She can see the minute tightening of his fingers on the trigger, his hand steady even if his voice isn’t. “Let my sister go.”

Her lips split, a grin so wide it bares all of her teeth, her jaw aching from it as her head tilts to the side, a beast sighting its prey. Gazing down the barrel of a gun, wishing for that bullet because it’s better than the alternative, better than the image out of the corner of her eye of another body hovering there, blonde hair matted to a skull still leaking blood and brain matter.

The answer is slow in coming, hands lifting with palms towards the ceiling. Power crackles in the air, the dark, blackened workings of a demon.

“No.”

He goes to pull the trigger. She shoves her palm towards him. There’s a blast of a gun, the light in her eyes and the smell of smoke. The bullet racing towards her head before it stops, just beyond her fingertips.

A second blast, and she stops that bullet too. Eyeing that piece of metal, Zoe Bishop wailing in her head, an endless scream as her eyes see her own hands tearing everything apart, a piece at a time. Her eyes fixating on her brother, her family, her home, how desperately she’d wanted to find him, how much it had meant to see him once again, to remember what it felt like to have her brother’s arms around her again, keeping her safe.

She wishes now he’d never come back. He should’ve stayed out there alone, should’ve saved himself. Because now her hands are lifting, and so is he. Invisible fingers around her throat as the demon shoves him back against the wall.

“This is how it ends,” the demon tells him. “This is what it has always looked like.”

Zeke kicks against the wall. He twists in place, boots scraping against the plaster. Gasping for air, head tipping back towards the light above him like there’s anything up there that could offer them salvation. Instead there’s just that invisible pressure around his throat, the sound of blood on the carpet below him as Zoe steps closer.

Her hand settles against his chest. Her fingers curl, nails digging into his flesh.

Then the demon rips his heart out.

There are still her own screams echoing in her head when Zoe realizes the sound is coming out her mouth. A step back and she’s collapsing to her knees in the hallway, nothing in front of her but a crooked painting hanging on the wall. No bodies, no blood, nothing but the ragged wails tearing their way from her throat. And she doesn’t know if she’ll ever be able to stop.

#twl event #twl para #para #self para #zeke;#death tw

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amaya-writes · 3 years ago

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POLL TIMEEEE

Okay so I know it's literally been like 2 days since I finished the last event but I wanted to do another one since I feel like I write best when I have deadlines ++ I want to get as much of my twl done as possible.

Sooo I need you guys to choose my next event!

There's:

Arms Tonite: A Dazai Osamu Event

Dating The Setters: A Haikyyu setters event

Wammy Boys: An Event Surrounding the Wammy Boys of Death Note

Being the indecisive person I am I'm leaving the decision making up to you lot!

Reblog for Arms Tonite - 14 votes

Like for Dating the Setters - 8 votes

Reply with an emoji for Wammy Boys - 2 votes

This will close on Thursday and I'll write everything from Friday to Sunday.

#new event #amaya: talks #death note x you #death note x reader #death note smut #haikyuu setters #haikyuu x you #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu headcanons #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu #dazai osamu smut #dazai oneshot

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noramoya · 2 years ago

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XIAO ZHAN : OR SEAN XIAO, WAS BORN ON OCTOBER 5th, 1991 IN CHONGQING, CHINA. HE IS AN ACTOR AND SINGER, KNOWN FOR CHINA’S BIGGEST HITS DRAMA “THE UNTAMED” (2019)" •••

“While we admit Xiao Zhan wasn’t completely on our radar prior to his role as the mischievous and carefree Wei Wuxian, we have now devoured all of the content starring Xiao Zhan that we can find. Here are some of his best roles, besides our all-time favorite, Wei Wuxian in The Untamed.”

THIS WAS THE FIRST SERIES STARRED BY XIAO ZHAN, ON 2016, SAME YEAR HE DEBUTED AS SINGER, PART OF THE BOYS SINGERS GROUP “X–NINE”. THE SERIES ABOVE WAS RELEASED ON SEPTEMBER 2016, ON THE SAME MONTH HE HAD HIS FIRST STAGE PERFORMANCE ON THE SHOW OF THE ZHEJIANG TV NEW YEAR CONCERT, WHERE HE PERFORMED THE SINGLE “FREEZE”, AS WELL AS THE THEME SONG “BE A MAN”, ALONGSIDE HIS TEAMMATES •••

BIOGRAPHY: “Xiao Zhan (English name: Sean Xiao) is a Chinese actor, singer, and former member of the male idol group X NINE. He worked as a photographer and graphic designer, prior to his debut. In 2015, Xiao Zhan participated in the reality program "X-Fire" where he trained to be an idol alongside 15 others. Xiao Zhan's first performance stage was at the 2016 Zhejiang TV New Year Concert, where he performed the single "Freeze" as well as the theme song "Be A Man" alongside his teammates. Xiao Zhan debuted alongside eight other trainees in the idol group X NINE in 2016. X NINE released their first mini-album X Jiu in September 2016.

• On September 29, 2019, it was announced that Xiao Zhan had established his own studio, "XZ Studio". On October 16, 2019, Sina Entertainment has announced the list of nominations for the Best Actor of China 2019, with Xiao Zhan being the first nominated male actor on the list. Forbes China listed Xiao Zhan under their "30-Under-30-Asia-2019" list, which consisted of 30 influential people under 30 years old who have had a substantial effect in their fields. On November 3, 2019, Xiao Zhan won “The Golden Tower Award” for “Best Actor” in a web drama, counted as the most loved TV actor by college students who participated in the voting process. He won many awards for his excellent performance in "The Untamed", both nationally and internationally, including the “Starmometer-Asian-Drama-Actor” of The Year (2019).

• In June 2020, Xiao Zhan's single 'SpotLight' officially got listed as the 2nd best-selling digital single of all time in the world, within one month of its release, making him the only Asian artist to be within the top 10 of the list. For this song, he entered GUINNESS WORLD RECORDS for the fastest-selling digital single. In October 2020, 'SpotLight' became the best-selling digital single of all time. At the end of that same month, he won 1st place in "The 100 Most Handsome Faces in Asia" hosted by TCCASIA as part of TCCandler beating out over 600 other men from various countries in that region.

• On March 9, 2021, Xiao Zhan was chosen 7th out of the Top 10 from 2020 in IFPI.org's single music chart for his song "SpotLight" making him the first male Chinese Singer to enter since the chart's inception in 1933. On Twitter, the official post read "#7 Xiao Zhan - Made to Love (SpotLight). Fans of the Chinese actor, singer, and idol rallied behind the release of Made To Love at the end of April 2020, breaking records for fastest-selling digital release within 24 hours."

• On April 22, 2021, Xiao Zhan made his inaugural theatrical debut in a play, "A Dream Like A Dream", in Wuhan. He plays Patient No. 5. He has since continued to act the role for many more cities such as Qingdao, Chengdu, and Shenzhen. The last stop of the entire tour was in Beijing at the end of December 2021.

• On November 14, 2021, Xiao Zhan was declared the winner of the “Global Actor Of The Year Award” in the Global Nubia Awards (GNAs) 2021 event. On December 25, 2021, Xiao Zhan was announced as the winner of “The Man-in-Fashion-World” for 2021, by The World List (TWL).

• On January 11, 2022, it was announced that Xiao Zhan won the “2021-Fashion-Man-Icon” of the Year, at the 2021 World’s Choice Awards (WCA) in conjunction with The Editor's Choice, beating out over 20 internationally known male fashion icons. • On January 17, 2022, Beijing Daily Film & Television announced that Xiao Zhan had won the “Popular Actor Award” of 2021 for his role in "Doulou Continent". • On February 3, 2022, WETV Thailand announced that Xiao Zhan won the WETV Best Actor Award for 2021. • On April 5, 2022, JOOX Thailand Music Awards named Xiao Zhan as the “Top Social Global Artist” of The Year for 2022. • On April 21, 2022, Best of the List chose Xiao Zhan as the “Most Handsome Actor” in the World of 2021 with 33.2% of the overall votes. He also picked up this same award on May 30, 2022, with 40% of the overall votes. • On June 11, 2022, the "A Dream Like A Dream" tour scheduled for Dec., was announced with Xiao Zhan reprising his role as Patient No. 5. • On July 20, 2022, Nubia Magazine announced that after a very lengthy poll spanning 141 countries, Xiao Zhan was chosen as The World's Most Handsome Man of 2022.

LIST OF XIAO ZHAN’S ACTING WORKS, STARTING ON THE YEAR 2016 (start reading from bottom up to top):

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datastate · 4 years ago

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unn Gets to me. she is one of hallownest’s higher gods who actually successfully kept her people alive and generally safe and happy with the only cost being to herself (until the infection, which was a conflict she and her people were just bystanders in). when her land thrives, she thrives. this is why when she willingly conceded a large portion of her land to help fog canyon survive, she was weakened. she didn’t expect for TWL to recognize this time of vulnerability and use it to further steal more of her land and twist it for her own purposes, renaming what she stole and broke from unn as ‘’her’ gardens.’

unn knew it’d take longer for her to recover herself after this violation of their peace, and sent out the promise she’s shown to give in game, "the call for return,” she trusted them to continue caring for her until she could regain her strength and influence them beyond dreams.

she couldn’t risk giving more pieces of what kept her alive for hallownest when it grew, but she couldn’t risk forced conquest, and found a middle ground. that is why the right half of “greenpath” (the ‘white king’s roads’) is more ‘tame’ than the other areas, but still recognizably part of her land. this last cut to her forced her to relinquish her only contact with her people so she could learn to cope with these heavy losses to her very self, and it is why the mosskin are so dedicated to tending to her lands for her until she can grow powerful again. both unn and the mosskin care about each other.

unn, when possible, knows when to protect and keep what the mosskin deserve; TWL was a surprise, fog canyon was because she cared for those people and didn’t want to see them wiped out because they lost their home. there were other attempts that they’ve endured and didn’t give in to, but these are the notable ones bc they are the ones who got past the barriers unn set. she would’ve had more of a hand in protecting her people if she was given a chance to recover instead of continuously facing this harm from people taking advantage of her state. (she doesn’t blame fog canyon for their request for her help. she’s glad she helped them survive, even if this started a chain of events that kept her from being able to contact her people for a Long While)

she was on her way to coping to these heavy losses to her very self. only for the radiance to just steal her people from her own dream. “hidden unn, we need you now. we grow tired away from you.”

this slug makes me feel things :[

#i'm sure i've mentioned most of these points before but ;_; y'know just ;_;#she TRIED and it's not her fault people manipulated her while she was in a vulnerable state #it's not her fault that the radiance saw her as another target when she was a bystander to everything pk did #she strained herself as much as she was physically able to and still tried to create a solace in her own 'dream' for her people #until pk just rubbed salt on the wound and forced her to temporarily cut that too #i love her okay #jestersvaguely #unn #long post #ccs #hk posting

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nitrosodiumequilibriumproject · 10 months ago

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Behold, The Finished* Projectile!

As you can see, the projectile now works. You can throw it, and it deletes itself when hitting Chubb or the Incinerator actor. It turns out the key wasn't timelines, but utilizing projectile movement. From there, it took some fine-tuning to make it correct, including re-sizing the sprite and flipping it. But it works! Almost. When it hits the Pursuer, I need it to deduct 5 Hunger if Hunger is above 0, and also trigger the knockback event. I didn't really think this through; Hunger as a variable belongs to the BP_ThirdPersonCharacter, just like the other variables shown on the HUD. So, I need to cast to the pursuer and then through that, cast to the player. It's kind of complicated, and also doesn't work. So, I have an idea of what could.

Instead of running everything through the EventActorBeginOverlap, a style of coding that I fell into during TWL's development, I'll have the "deduct hunger" function attached to the knockback. That way, there won't be any weirdness, since it's assured that that's how it works. It'll have to be put at the end of the chain of blocks, though. In the original Sweat Pursuit, a burger would push Chubb back even if he wasn't hungry. This is a key strategy, as late in the game, you're throwing burgers so much that Chubb's hunger only climbs up to about 3 or 4 between launching burgers at him. I'm going to replicate this as best I can in the Unreal version.

#devlog #gamedev #indie games #indiedev #indiegamedev #sweatpursuit

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thisdiscontentedwinter · 4 years ago

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Not to mention, they could've just said from the beginning that since there's stiles and derek are already heavily represented in fandom, we're going to celebrate some of the other charatcers, and then simply not have Stiles and Derek on the list of possibilities. I mean, that would've been a valid position to take and would minimize the need for whatever that is

DW: It’s their event. They didn’t need to do a poll at all.

But they did one, because of this need to demonstrate how “fair” and “unbiased” they are, but when Scott didn’t make the top 5, we sure got to see that fairness in action, didn’t we?

I’m still laughing at how they called Isaac, Peter and Scott a tie. That’s not what a tie is.

Oh, but no, suddenly it counts because they’re on the same tier.

Which is, of course, an arbitrary thing they just made up.

Sorry, Isaac voters. Even though there were more of you than there were Scott voters, your character got bumped because heaven forbid Scott didn’t make the cut.

But it’s okay! It’s okay! There will be an Isaac event sometime in the future. Because, you know, you can totally trust TWL after this nonsense. Totally...

#twl #teen wolf legacy #scott mccall delusional squad

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pocket-infinity · 5 years ago

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Dear god what have I done this time...

Ladies, gentlemen, and those beyond the binary, welcome to what I hope will be a tie-together for everything in The Only Option by @corruptapostasy. This will be a veritable “Theory of Everything” as far as TOO is concerned, so fair warning, this post will be a very, very long one.

Brief terminology section: The Wyrm (The Pale King’s previous incarnation)=TW; The Pale King=TPK/PK; The White Lady=TWL/WL; The Nightmare King=NK; The Shade Lord=SL; a specific incarnation of the Nightmare King=NK#x

Now let’s get to it, starting with a timeline, numbered and justified later. For the sake of simplicity, let’s mark the events of TOO as time 0. m. = months n = an unknown number of something; default to years; any repeats of n will be called n1, n2, n3,…

1. -2,000,000++ years : The Fundament and The Radiance meet The Wyrm. 2. -2,000,000+ years : The Fundament makes a deal with The Shade Lord and begins the Ritual Cycle 3. -2,000,000+ to -2,000+ years : The Nightmare King’s reincarnations live and die; many end up fighting The Radiance. NK#137 is in some way scarred, traumatized, or otherwise harmed by The Radiance’s mind manipulation. NK#452 wages wars and desecrates corpses. 4. -2,000+ years : Enkay convinces The Wyrm to reincarnate as The Pale King 5. -2,000+ to -1,000+ years : Enkay dies, The Radiance dies, Lurien gets his scars, Grimm starts his rampage, and Hallownest is created 6. 0 : The Infection appears in Hallownest 7. ? days : PK summons Grimm 8. +2m. : The Teacher’s Archives flood; The Grimm Troupe is spotted by Lurien and visited by PK, WL, and others; 9. +n years : Ghost completes The Ritual (and, assumably, defeats The Radiance in some manner)

Justification: 1. The Fundament says he met the Wyrm in 8; if The Fundament existed, it was before that deal with SL; The Radiance says that the two promised to stick together (and they’re siblings), so it’s safe to assume they met the Wyrm together and were close with him. 2. The Fundament made a deal with SL; he says it himself in 8; the word “millions” is used, so it is plural 3. Stated by The Fundament in the same conversation 4. PK is older than Grimm, and Grimm is said to be “only a few thousand years old”, so PK must be multiple thousands of years old 5. PK and WL say that the City of tears was built a thousand years ago, which had to have been after Hallownest’s creation; therefore, since the last event we have is PK’s birth, all of those other events must have happened 6, 7, 8. That’s a fact 9. Here we go… Grimm’s tapestry in Chapter 7 is described with three circles; the first has SL’s face, the second has a “strange, horned face”, and the third has “the image of the Grimmchild wreathed in flames, eyes filled in with red.” Now, based on the fact that the “strange, horned face” is next to the Grimmchild’s, it can be inferred that the individual has some close relation to the Ritual, specifically the Grimmchild. In addition, PK describes the face as “strange”, implying that he hasn’t seen it before. So, it is someone close to the Ritual, specifically the Grimmchild, more specifically the Grimmchild with red eyes and red flames around them, but PK doesn’t know them. Ghost would make complete sense; any other potential candidates are either known by PK, unrelated to the Ritual, or lack horns. Not to mention the red eyes and flames of the Grimmchild correlate with actions in-game.

#hollow knight #the only option #corruptapostasy

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