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twi-liight · 8 months

Note

Sooo. You just posted Petty Jealousy 20 mins ago and I just wanted to say that I loveeee itttt. Can we please have more? Like Astarion and the other companions subtly do somethings to the person they’re jealous of to turn them away from Tav.

Tav’s companions are just sooo cutee when they’re jealous. Wyll and perhaps, Halsin being the only sensible ones.

Thank you!

Red With Envy ❣

The YA love heptagon of the century: Tavrem. ❥ Astarion/Tav, Gale/Tav, Lae'zel/Tav, Companions/Tav. It's Gale/Astarion if you squint. ❥ They/them pronouns for Tav. ❥ Tav is the nickname for the reader/oc insert. Their real name is up to you! ❥ PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Astarion would never beseech himself to touch a member of the working class, but things change. People change. And here he is draping an arm around Gale’s shoulders to boldly declare his presence upon the rickety, wooden table.

“Oh.” Blink blink. Gale gawks with round eyes, then not-so-discreetly glances away from Astarion’s heavy gaze to the only present company at the table: salted bread with thick slices of white cheese, anchovies, and sop for the bread. This sorry excuse of a presentation must be breakfast, which begs the question- Is Gale’s blood so blue that he cannot skip a meal or is he trying to make a favorable impression?

Astarion would much prefer the former. It means he does not need to scrub his hands raw from the filth of peasants after this interaction.

“Uh, good morning, Astarion.”

“Mm?” He flashes his fangs to grin. “A good morning indeed, my friend. How lovely the dawn breaks over the horizon, but with no one to share the scenery with! I pitied you, and out of the kindness of my heart, opted to join you.”

Alright, enough touching. Astarion draws his arm back to poise a curled hand beneath his chin, glancing over Gale’s face in a vain attempt to study him. “Well-combed hair. Your posture,” he raises his hand to gesture at the wizard, “is much cleaner than yesterday. You’re practically glowing with morning dew, and…”

Here, he leans forward, just enough so that his nose lingers on the curve of Gale’s neck, just so his hot breath hits his skin as he murmurs, “You smell like Tav.”

This greedy bastard slept in their tent last night because he caught some sickness from meandering about gaseous spores, and Tav cannot ignore the needy. Would that Gale be some beggar on the road and not an accomplished wizard with a higher emotional maturity than he.

Astarion would be more comforted if he was a one night stand, a quick romp for the leader of their party to take the edge off. But anything beyond that is sabotage for his best-laid plans.

Astarion’s smirk curls as deep, roiling darkness tug at his mind. He leans back slowly, never breaking eye contact. “They let you sleep in their tent. What a darling.” While they slept by the fire, ash and dirt swirling in their hair, Gale was embraced in Tav’s blankets and scarves. The lingering scent of something floral sticks on his skin, and Astarion recognizes it as the oleander Shadowheart presented Tav a fortnight ago.

Gale smells something else: rusty and metallic, like the smell of a storm brewing. Has Astarion’s eyes deepened in color, like wine? His tongue feels heavy in his mouth all of a sudden. “Yes,” he agrees, thinking of Tav for some semblance of comfort. “I was sick, and they offered their tent for the night. More blankets, they said. Easier to be warm in - look, Astarion, do you have a problem with my friendship with Tav?”

The laugh that pushes its way forcibly out of his sneering lips is sharp and mocking. Something burns in his chest, and it feels like seething anger. “My, that’s a strong word. I would say acquaintance is more befitting of your,” Astarion gestures to Gale once more, fighting back a scowl, “station. You’ve known Tav for barely a few months - they’re not quick to brand just anyone as a friend.”

“Is that right?” Gale’s brown eyes spark with challenge. What a doll. Finally got his spine. “I ought to wonder how you befriended them, then. Anyone with half a mind knows your shenanigans are acts of desperation; you want them to like you so you can manipulate them. I know your type, Astarion.”

“And you… You, what, you are not? You’re using Tav just as much as I am, darling. Otherwise, what are you here for? Companionship? Ha!” Astarion does not know why, but his entire being is alight. As if the sun’s rays are scorching him. He can barely contain his temper, barking out between sharp teeth, “Get a grip.”

Gale is hardly fazed. “You’re delusional. Whatever threat you think I present to you?” He lifts his chin, eyes alight with power and rage. “Confront it. Dig your grave. Lie in it. While you’re busy lurking in the shadows, waiting for the opportune moment to dance them around your little games, guess where I will be?”

Silent, seething anger. It burns. Astarion’s eyes are blown wide with rage as he gazes into Gale’s eyes, digging his nails into his palm as his fingers wrap around the hilt of his dagger.

“There to catch them when they realize everything you’ve done is just an act.” Gale leans forward this time, a warning blazing in his brown eyes. “Think whatever you wish of me, Astarion, but never in your life think I would never fight for those I cherish.”

Cherish. Astarion almost sinks his teeth in his throat to shut him up. “Good,” he purrs, fighting every urge not to massacre Gale where he sits with his dingy little breakfast. “I would be sorely disappointed if you succumbed too easily to me.”

This would be so much easier if Astarion didn’t care about losing Gale, either. If he must concede, Astarion can admit to himself and the Devil alone that Gale is beyond useful in battle. Herald of the Weave, Mystra’s little boytoy? He would be endeared to watch Gale’s story end. Whether it be in smithereens or in the bosom of his former goddess, it will be fun to watch.

Something in the back of his mind gnaws at his anxiety that Gale will be the one to turn Tav against him. This pretty little fool never wanted him in the party, wary of him, which is the smart thing to do. Tav was not. Tav was too easy to trust him. To easy to ply around his fingers until he had them even offer up their blood.

He resents Gale for making space in their heart. It could have been his.

“The dawn rises as I do: strong, and watching over two bread boys exchanging heated words like knives.” Lae’zel’s voice, sleek and smooth, startles them. Gale visibly jolts away from his proximity to Astarion’s face, brown eyes widening as Lae’zel approaches the table. She takes one gander at the spread, grabs a fistful of anchovies, and shoves it down her mouth without care.

“You,” Gale stammers. “That was for–”

“Silence. Githyanki must feed well to prepare for the new day. I will not hear your incoherent mumbling, wizard.” Lae’zel at least has the decency to chew with her mouth closed. She gulps the food, grips her fingers around Gale’s mug of watered down wine, and downs it with a tilt of her head.

Astarion pouts. “We were having a moment, dearest Lae’zel. Now, I love to tease Gale as much as you, but it is my turn to press on Gale’s pretty little nerves until he explodes. He does not need to be,” he flares a hand out to Lae’zel, who is still downing the disgusting concoction with impressive concentration, “hounded.”

Gale looks confused. Astarion thinks that is not a state he often experiences. “Thank you?”

And now he’s grateful? Astarion regrets his string of words in the last five seconds. They should go back to fighting.

Lae’zel slams the mug down on the table, perishing the rest of Astarion’s train of thought. She wipes the drink from her lips with her arm, thinks for a second, then nods, resilience plain in her expression. “I must warn you: distractions outside of our goal will be our end. I will not fail to cut either of you down if you produce disappointing results. However.”

There’s a ‘however’? Gale and Astarion exchange a glance, the animosity between them gone, replaced with more confusion. “I think you may be misunderstanding,” Gale begins. “Astarion and I-”

“You two are lovers,” Lae’zel says with the confidence of a thousand burning suns. Astarion has never wished for that to be more true. He wants to be eviscerated where he sits right now because he cannot pick up his jaw from the ground.

Gale looks like he just swallowed a rat. Like he is seconds away from throwing up. He needs a moment, experiencing vicious whiplash from wanting to kill Astarion to now, wanting to kill Lae’zel. “You— huh.”

“I support this companionship,” nods the githyanki sagely.

“You are a bloody fool.”

“No. I am efficient. Two of my enemies have been wiped off the playing field, which means there is less competition.” Hands on her hips, Lae’zel looks at the campgrounds proudly. “Make love to each other loudly.” She jerks her head over her shoulder, a sneer twisting her sharp features as she looks at them. “Try to drown out my name from Tav’s lips tonight, for I will be taking their hand and heart.”

No fucking way. An oversight on his part. How could he have been so blind? Of course Tav is desired, not just by him or Gale, but by everyone else in the damn camp! This is much more troublesome than he realized. Fine, then. He should prioritize the rational thinkers like Wyll, Gale, Shadowheart and– oh, Karlach. Not darling Karlach. She would never turn Tav against him, would he?

Fine. Halsin and Lae’zel can go first.

“Momentary truce?” Gale offers.

“You read my mind, handsome. Lae’zel, darling! Come back over here - we just want to talk.”

❥ Additional links: kofi | ao3

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion x reader #astarion x you #gale x reader #gale x you #lae'zel x reader #lae'zel x you #shadowheart #halsin #wyll #karlach #bg3 x reader #bg3 x you #badlur's gate 3 x reader #baldur's gate 3 x you

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txttletale · 8 months

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You've spoken at length about how the Lancer setting is just wildly incongruent with what the authors think it is at length, and I agree wholeheartedly. My question is, largely for the purpose of if I ever want to run a game of it again, how would you make the setting carry that tone the authors think it has without too terribly much rewriting? Say, from the point of 'there was a revolution to overthrow seccom'? I love the 'gallant warriors of liberation in giant robots' and would like it if the game actually was that.

But the more the bureaucratic apparatus is “redistributed” among the various bourgeois and petty-bourgeois parties , the more keenly aware the oppressed classes, and the proletariat at their head, become of their irreconcilable hostility to the whole of bourgeois society. Hence the need for all bourgeois parties, even for the most democratic and "revolutionary-democratic" among them, to intensify repressive measures against the revolutionary proletariat, to strengthen the apparatus of coercion, i.e., the state machine. This course of events compels the revolution "to concentrate all its forces of destruction" against the state power, and to set itself the aim, not of improving the state machine, but of smashing and destroying it.

-- Vladimir Lenin, The State & Revolution

In the heady days after the revolution, the air buzzed with potential. The future was today. Hazy, gaseous dreams of liberation patiently awaited their turn to be forged into something you could touch. But those days didn't last for long. The coalition was already a fragile thing during the revolution, and now that it was faced with the levers of Union's imperial machine each hairline crack became a chasm. The corporate armies, who had marched under the banner of the enormous profits locked away behind Harrison Armory's legal monopolies, had reached their personal horizons and refused to move an inch further. The moderates and high-class intellectuals saw the wealth that Union funneled from its edges being distributed generously to the citizens of the Core Worlds and declared a new economic paradigm of post-scarcity and mutual wealth. The anarchist cells with their mysterious reality-hacking mechs were the first to come to the only inevitable conclusion: the revolution was not over.

Now that the old order had been surgically deposed, the new order was finding itself fitting comfortably in its throne. Humbled and stripped of its previous privileges, Harrison Armory was welcomed back into the halls of power under the smiling auspices of free enterprise. Groundbreaking legislation was still being written in the halls of ThirdComm--guaranteeing the right of worlds to self-determination, the rights of clones to live freely, even radical and heretofore-unthinkable proposals laying the groundwork for an end to NHP-shackling. But the old revolutionaries had grown weary and cautious (and, of course, had begun to personally experience the economic benefits of Union's vast hegemony). To enforce this legislation, they argued, would be a de facto redeclaration of war against the corpostates, a disaster for the trade networks on which our wealth depends. To those who still harboued the hopes of revolutionary change, this was a loud and clear signal: the war had not ended. The revolution was not over.

The All-Galaxy Revolutionary Front as it exists now is a set of strange bedfellows. The disciplined combat battalions of the Communist Party fly in perfect harmony, distinguishable by their red battle flags, mass-produced in collectivized forges with reverse-engineered corpo tech. The motley individual oddities that the anarchists call their mechs, their open-source physics-bending HORUS peculiarities, strike unpredictably, in and out of ThirdComm's sight. But the one thing which binds them all, as they fight for the liberation of the peripheral worlds, for the wealth of mines and factories to enrich the people of the planets they're built on instead of fueling ever-replenishing consumption in the distant Core, is that they still have those old revolutionary dreams.

This is what it means to be a Lancer: to be willing to struggle. To acknowledge that the revolution is not over.

#ask #scrumpledorph #ttrpg #is this technically lancer fanfiction? yeah

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aphroditeslover11 · 6 months

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Heyy!! I was thinking for Tommy how about a fluffy piece where he’s introducing Reader to his family. Thankss! Lots of love to you:).

Hi, I’ve done my best with this so hope you enjoy it. I enjoyed writing it as ever, love a bit of fluffy Tommy!

Meet The Shelbys

Warning: as you would expect for peaky, consumption of alcohol!

This was possibly the most nerve-wracking car journey of your life. It was Tommy’s birthday and, as he was Tommy Shelby and had absolutely everything that he could ever want or need, you had decided to ask him outright what he wanted. After telling you repeatedly that you didn’t need to give him anything he relented, saying that, as you had been together for a few months now, the best present that you could give him would be coming to spend an evening at the Garrison with the entire Shelby clan. That was where you were going now, sat in the passenger seat, fiddling with your hands in your lap whilst trying not to let on how nervous you were to Tommy

“I can tell you’re nervous love. I promise that they aren’t as bad as everything you’ve probably heard about them,” he said in a vain effort to comfort you.

“I know Tom, I’m just anxious that they won’t like me, I’m not exactly like the rest of you.” That was very true, with you having grown up in the countryside on your father’s estate, it wasn’t to the proportions of a place like Chatsworth, but certainly more comfortable than the Shelby’s Birmingham upbringing.

“I’m sure they’ll love you, just like I do,” Tommy reassured, reaching to bring your hand to his face so that he could place a gentle kiss on the back of it.

“I just hope that you’re right.”

“What do you mean, I always am.”

When you arrived at the Garrison the first thing that hit you was the smell of alcohol, it was like walking into a room of gaseous whiskey. Then the noise reached your ears, glasses clinking and men shouting, celebrating the end of the working week with a pint or five. You subconsciously reached for Tommy’s hand as he led you through the crowd to the bar.

“A whiskey and a wine Harry, are the others here yet?” he asked the barman.

“They are Tommy, in the snug as usual, who’s this lovely lady on your arm, if I’m allowed to ask?”

“Harry, this is my beautiful y/n, she’s meeting the family for the first time tonight. Y/n, this is Harry, best barman in all of Birmingham.” The barman then turned to you.

“I’m guessing that you must be nervous love, they aren’t so bad though, your Shelby is the worst by a long way.”

“I am a bit,” you admitted with an anxious smile.

“Do you drink whiskey love? might help take the edge off your nerves a bit.” You nodded in response. “I’ll make the order two whiskeys then.” You could tell Tommy was starting to get impatient, sighing impatiently at your side.

“Harry, I’ll thank you not to speak of me like that infant of my woman, and she’ll be drinking wine not whiskey thank you, send the drinks through to the snug when they’re ready.” You went to protest but Tommy cut you off before you had chance. “You know that you’re banned from whiskey until you can prove to me that you can handle it after the state you came home in last time, and I’m hoping that you might say hello to everyone before you get yourself absolutely rat-arsed.” He did have a point, so you acquiesced and allowed him to lead you into the smaller room off to the side.

The first person that you met was Polly, she was a little prickly to begin with, but once she had got the measure of you she was soon very welcoming, obviously she wanted to be sure that you were good enough for her nephew before she let you feel at home. Next came Ada, who wrapped you into a hug before Tommy had even had a proper chance to introduce you.

“I don’t care who you are or where you come from,” she said. “But you must be a saint if you can put up with Tommy.” This made everybody laugh, which was what drew your attention to the men on the other side of the table.

“Love, this is John, Arthur and Finn, my brothers.” Tommy stepped back up again.

“It’s nice to meet you at last. You know Tommy doesn’t shut up about you, so it’s nice to finally know who you are.” Arthur was the first one to speak to you.

“I can assure you that I’m really not that interesting” It was the John’s turn to join in.

“Well, Tom clearly doesn’t agree because we were all threatened with death earlier if we dared say anything to upset you. And I’m guessing that he doesn’t want you to know that from the look on his face now.” Tommy wiped the glare from his face before you had a chance to see it, placing an arm around your waist.

The drinks arrived, more were ordered as the evening went on and it wasn’t long before everyone found themselves at least slightly inebriated. You were sandwiched between Arthur and Ada, Tommy having started to talk business with John whilst the others were more interested in you. The conversation had taken many turns and you were just getting on to embarrassing stories about your boyfriend.

“When he was little Tommy and me used to get into fights all the time, he was a scrawny wee thing, but he had the stubbornness of a pack horse, never gave in. I always used to have to let him win so that he wouldn’t make me keep punching him until he got a concussion.” Arthur had you and Ada laughing hard. “He still won’t admit it all these years on.” Now it was Ada’s turn.

“He was an absolute devil to have around when I was a teenager, he always ruined any fun that I could have, he’d have had me under house arrest if Polly would’ve let him. Do you remember Arthur, that time that he caught me with that lad down by the cut and threw him into the canal?” Arthur nodded in ascent. “I swear he’d have thrown me in as well if it hadn’t meant we’d still be together. I asked him why I couldn’t have my own fun when he spent his life drinking in here and gambling and he just went off in a huff.”

Realising that you were talking about him Tommy turned to your little group.

“And what would you be saying about me over there?”

“Nothing bad Tom, just warning her what she’s getting herself into,” joked Arthur.

“I hope that’s it. She knows that I have plenty of things to say about her if you’re telling stories.”

It was nice seeing Tommy around his family he was so at ease around them, it was unusual to see him smiling and laughing in company unless it was just the two of you alone.

At the end of the evening you said goodbye to everyone, Tommy smiling at your slightly drunken self as you hugged everyone goodbye, completely transformed from the nervous wreck that you had been earlier. He had to practically drag you away from Ada, whom you had been getting especially friendly with, only managing to pull you out by promising that you could all meet up again soon.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders #tommy shelby #fanfic #period drama #meet the family #request

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leaderpinhead · 2 months

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Grim - Walk Another's Path

Prompt: Bodyswap Notes: This went a little longer than expected (which is one of the reasons I didn't finish it in February like I wanted to ;-;), so I'm only posting the first section here with a link to where I've posted the full fic on AO3. I still wanted to show it here because this was written for a prompt challenge I found on here. Full fic can be found here!

Grim snarled and paced back and forth around the bedroom. Every few steps resulted in him slapping his cheeks to make sure he was awake. The slight sting said that, yes, he was indeed awake and not experiencing a nightmare.

The smoothness of his cheeks was also causing his rising panic. “I can’t believe this is happening! This is all Ace’s fault! I can’t believe he threw that whatchamacallit into our cauldron yesterday.”

A light huff came from the bed. “That whatchamacallit was a bundle of dandelions, and it did absolutely nothing but cause enough smoke to earn us a five-page essay from Professor Crewel on the importance of lab safety. Which is due today.”

Grim spun on his heel to face his minion. He didn’t account for his new gangly limbs and noodley torso, which nearly sent him spiraling into the wardrobe. He snarled and batted at the piece of furniture like it had purposefully leapt into his path. Once he had effectively put the wardrobe in its place, he spun to face his minion.

Except it wasn’t his minion he saw, but himself. At least, a doppelgänger of himself. He’d never known his own face could contort into the same deadpan expression his human usually wore when she was tired of tiptoeing around the sensibilities of every boy on campus. She walked a small circle in the center of the bed like a fawn finding its legs for the first time. She wobbled just enough to make Grim offended. “How do you explain all this then? Last I checked, I was still in my own body when I went to bed last night!”

It was weird hearing Yuu’s voice when he spoke. Almost as weird as his own voice, from his own body, but definitely not him speaking. “That’s an even stronger argument for why it wasn’t the botched potion. Some potions can be slow acting, particularly ones distributed in a gaseous state, but in order for that to be the cause of our current dilemma, we would have had to be repeatedly exposed to—.”

Grim threw up his hands to cover his ears. His paws—fingers—found soft tufts of hair. Right, human ears were on the sides of their heads. His hands slipped down his head until they found the fleshy lobes. “I don’t wanna listen to your science talk this early in the morning! I’m having a crisis!”

Yuu sighed. She edged closer to the side of the bed and glanced down at the floor. She backtracked to the center of the mattress. “My point is, this isn’t Ace’s fault. This is your fault.”

Grim sputtered. “My fault? How’s this my fault?”

“Who was the one reading spells he didn’t understand before bed last night?” Yuu snapped back. The blue fire of her ears wavered when her ears flattened against the top of her head. Her head? His head! This was becoming so confusing. “I told you to wait until your next tutor session with Riddle, but did you want to listen? No. Because the Great Grim can do no wrong. Now we’re stuck in each other's bodies for Seven knows how long!”

It was Grim’s turn to flatten his ears against his head. At least, he would if he didn’t have these already flat ears! “I knew what I was doing!”

“You couldn’t even pronounce the words on the page!” Yuu stomped around the mattress until she reached the nightstand sitting beside the bed. She awkwardly stretched across the small gap between the two pieces of furniture and pawed the worn book closer to her. Her tiny grunts of effort were almost insulting. “How do you manage to hold a pen in your paws? I can’t even grip the edge of this book!”

Her efforts made him snicker now. “Do you understand my greatness now? I’ve mastered living amongst humans in ways you’ll never understand!”

“If you wanna brag about holding a pen, then go right ahead.” Grim sputtered at Yuu’s lack of awe. She balanced on the tiptoes of her back paws while she flipped through the book. She smacked a paw against one page. “This is the spell you used! Mark this page so we can show it to the headmage.”

“Crowley?” Grim questioned, but he moved across the room to do as he was told. He still felt a bit wobbly, but he became surer in his stride with each step. Maybe being human wasn’t so bad. “Why we gotta show him? Wouldn’t it be easier to take it to Crewel?”

“Professor Crewel specializes in potions and alchemy,” Yuu argued. She jumped back into the center of the mattress as soon as he marked the page. Grim tucked the book under his arm and waited for Yuu to jump down from the bed. “As irresponsible as the headmage acts, no one on campus is going to argue he’s not a powerful mage. If anyone can break whatever spell you did, he would be our best bet.”

Grim grudgingly agreed and continued to wait for Yuu to jump down. She did the odd circling again, coming close enough to the edge to peek over before jerking back to the center of the mattress. After the third or fourth time of her doing the same thing, Grim finally snapped, “Would you quit wasting time and just jump down already?”

“It’s too high!” Grim gaped at the whiny pitch escaping his body. He’d never made that sound before! And he didn’t go around stomping like a big baby either! “How do you do this everyday? I could break an ankle jumping from this height!”

“It’s not high at all!” Grim argued. He gestured between the top of the bed and the top of his—Yuu's—hips. He knew of Yuu’s extreme fear of heights, but this was ridiculous! “It’s barely taller than half your body size.”

“Which is twice the size of you!” Yuu hopped away from the center of the mattress and closer to him. Grim sputtered when she lifted her arms up to him. “Put me on the floor.”

“No!”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not about to treat my body like it’s a baby!”

“I’m not asking you to burp me. Just put me on the floor!”

“Just jump!”

“That’s like telling me to jump from the highest tower on campus!”

They went back and forth just long enough to attract the attention of the curious dust bunnies living in Ramshackle Dorm. In the end, Grim grudgingly lifted Yuu off the bed and placed her feet on the floor. His efforts were rewarded when he watched her tackle the staircase, the ghosts of Ramshackle joining in on his snickering as they watched Yuu slowly crawl backwards down the stairs.

He completely ignored her snickering at him when he tripped halfway down the staircase because of her weak ankles.

Follow this link for the rest of the fic!

#twisted wonderland #grim #twst yuu #bodyswapping #february ficlet challenge

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cyberneticlagomorph · 22 days

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"Now, Jack. I can't promise these words will go away. I can sear you again and again, I can take that void and share of it my own, but I cannot guarantee that it will fix this. I implore you to seek out something that can while you have the chance, my dear." Null says as they lock the door behind them

The snap of fresh gloves being put on mixes with the sharp chemical odors wafting from the supplies Null has fetched from their lab and it reminds you of Home.

"Poor little thing." The maw in your chest whispers, nearly toothless and very afraid. "How pathetic you must feel to be comforted by memories of abuse."

For the first time since it started talking, you ignore it.

"Now then, I trust you can keep still on your own, or shall I fetch some restraints?" Null tilts their head to one side and you smile at them, sweet and lopsided.

Like you aren't afraid.

"I'll do my best, but no promises." You chuckle.

"Excellent! Now hold tight, this is very delicate work." You watch them crack their knuckles. They begin what is probably the easier part of the procedure, mixing chemicals together in orders and amounts known only to them. The fumes are heady and familiar, they remind you of Home of Home of Home.

You feel dizzy and light, laughter bubbling at the back of your throat, threatening to slip free, but you snap your teeth shut on your tongue and try your best to stay conscious.

Null dips their hands into the frothing chemical soup and for a second you expect them to dissolve right down to the marrow, but they don't.

"I'll do my best to be gentle, but this won't feel pleasant." Null looks at you with what might be worry or apprehension but the world has started to melt and swim so all you can do is nod. When Null's hands meet the raw and ruined flesh of your chest, all you can do is scream.

Stay still stay still stay still

You grip the sheets of your bed white knuckle, until your nails go through it and your own skin beyond.

You stay still, so fucking still.

You couldn't move if you wanted to, it hurts that much.

Null offers no words of reassurance, they just focus on their grim and grisly work.

Flesh burns beneath their touch, bubbling, hissing like fat on a griddle, steam rising from blood and ink that's started to boil where the chemicals have soaked in. Null dips their hands back into that hateful slime and applies more of it to your open wound like a balm.

The wound cries out in a tiny fearful voice, begging, screaming, crying as it bites down on Null's invasive fingers with what few teeth it has left. It pierces rubber, it rends flesh, it gets a mouthful of whatever gaseous substance serves for Null's blood and all it can do its wail like a dying thing.

Between the fumes and the pain, your body gives up and goes slack, your mind tossed into a blissful unconsciousness where none of this exists. Null pauses for just a moment, their hands finding your hearts buried deep under the yawning Nothing that came from this wound.

Still beating, stressed but steady.

Good, they can continue.

A maw is still a maw, even without teeth, especially one as afraid as this. It gnaws and gnaws and gnaws like the guilt it's made of, it tries to gnaw Null down to the bone but finds little purchase.

Null's gas mask comes off and they take a deep inhale of the potent miasma around them. More chemicals applied with steady hands riddled with bite marks and scratches, their life-blood is pouring out at a frightening pace but they don't care. They find the Nothing deep inside you, they pull it out and hold it close.

It hates them, oh how it hates them.

But that's ok.

Their fingers brush the edges of your wound and gently press them together the way one might do to clay. The chemicals have soaked in nicely, made the flesh malleable enough to cauterize itself without the need for outside heat or flame.

Even then as the wound is slowly beginning to shut, it refuses to die quietly.

Even toothless the maw is a terrible wretched thing wheezing and weeping as it is sealed by Null's skillful hands, its voice barely a whisper, almost inaudible over the hissing of gases and steam "She's afraid of you, you know… she'll always be afraid of you, she'll always see you as a monster, as something that came back wrong, someone that shouldn't exist."

"I am." Is all they say in reply as the last millimeters of muscle, meat and skin are joined and whole.

And the bleeding finally...

Stops.

#ic #ask to tag #gore #body horror #action post #art by bunny!

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catastrophic-crisis · 28 days

Text

Style guide for (identifiable) Planets.

Let's break it down. (Image above is of a "plushie" planet design.)

Head and Eye(s):

The head is inspired by gaseous planets such as Jupiter, and features stripe-like patterns. The exact patterns are up to you; it is typical for there to be an eyepatch-like pattern over where a second eyeball would be. No visible mouth is typical.

Their heads, despite the gaseous inspiration, can absolutely be bonked on the edge of a table. Got extra bubble wrap?

The little freak may stare at you with a single eye: a round shape, which does not have to be a perfect circle. I sometimes exaggerate this with a "fried egg" shape. If depicting with two eyes (or something eyeball-like) it is preferred to take a heterochromia-like approach, not symmetrical in either shape or color.)

The halo: any ring shape, and it can be at an angle. While possible, you're not going to see many halos of the "skinny diamonds next to eachother" type.

Below is a very early doodle of planets. The halo size is too large for the current average of the breed, and the squiggly style is no longer in fashion. (Though your planet can have it!)

Body:

What's under the dress?" Why do you wanna know. (This is an opportunity for a The Seven Year Itch subway grate bit, however the "dress" is typically stiffer than most fabrics.)

Of the wings, dress, and arms, only the "dress" is really important to keep. If we look closely at the image below, the wings for some of the Alice-themed planets have been reinterpreted into similar shapes, such as a bow attached to the back in a similar place, or even wing-like shapes affixed to the back of the head (these are a less typical interpretation). Planets do not typically flap the wings, they aren't essential to have! (While we're at it, note the ways the halos are interpreted. A "crown" maintains the round shape of a halo.)

These Alice-themed transformations above sit towards the more detailed end of the spectrum, your planet may want to be simpler.

The dress is typically a different color from the rest of the body. Some common planet colors for a really "default" planet bodies are greens, purples, and pinks. Go wild with what colors you use, though.

While referred to as a dress, preferably all your planet needs to have is a tube-like shape with a flared bottom. Yes, you could make it wear pants for the bit, but no legs if you want to keep it close to a common planet.

The arms can vary in thickness, and terminate in rounded shapes, not fingers. (Though as shapeshifters a planet could manage to conjure up some thumbs or a hand of five digits, or even a cute paw if they wanted.) The planets don't have much difficulty picking items up, but would struggle in more precise matters like typing on a keyboard.

The idle pose can be the limp t-rex arms. Cute!

Assorted Extras:

You can capitalize (or don't) the P in Planet. Planet with a lowercase P is more fitting, as they are a species (ex. you don't capitalize "sheep" typically), however for clarity I sometimes capitalize the P so as to not have them confused with the large round things in outer space. The big ones.

Planets are shapeshifters, and while they can take on many forms, we are focusing here on planets and variations that stay close to the silhouette of what would be referred to as a base or common form. While sizes can vary in this form, they typically are around the same size as their peers: under a cubit. The planet depicted below would be seen as a weirdly small.

Planets hover above the ground, and won't typically be seen much higher than a person's head if above flat ground.

Over time, the planet head-to-body ratio has changed, but you can be the force that brings back the big bobble heads.

The base rule is that as long as it is identifiable as a planet, it is a planet. The main premise is a planet head and angel-imitation features. As shapeshifters, they can be all sorts of shapes, but with an understanding of the base design rules you too can craft a little floating freak thing recognizable as this mascot species.

#jupiterposting

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iamthepulta · 7 months

Note

May I ask about your fictional city’s infrastructure?

Absolutely, oh my god~ Thank you so much~

I’m weirdly nervous answering because I don’t have anything written about Ellenville’s infrastructure. But this gives me a place to start putting things on paper. <3 The first paragraphs are history-esque, I guess, and the following paragraphs are my vision of what that history looks like when translated to infrastructure.

Ellenville, the namesake of the world, is a little mining town/city in the mountains, while Marena is the big city in the foreland basin. Marena has a few rivers running through it; I imagine it as a fertile, farming-based settlement that sprung up where the river clears enough to boat to the sea. They eventually became the nation’s capital, and progressed steadily through the advents of early industrialism and gained a lively textile industry.

(I picture Marena's rivers bricked and industrialized for weaving south of the city. Springs tend to occur on fault zones and the mountains form a rainshadow, so farms would fight for the northern end, and the city center is between the two. Houses/farms are scattered, and the city is accessible, but large.)

Ellenville is an industrial town, built because one prospector out-prospected his competitors for an iron vein. ((I’m not entirely sure which commodities I want them to be mining; coal and early iron mining are based on particular layers of rock which aren’t interesting to me, and don’t provide the chemistry background I want in the story, but they’re more historically accurate. Maybe I’ll include tin mining or copper mining for steampunk flavor.)) Either way, Ellenville is fairly desolate, all citizens know each other, and most people work for the mines. Class inequality is blatant throughout the town, although at the end of the day, rich or not, everyone has a mountain accent that separates them from the lowlanders.

(I picture Ellenville as a little town in the valley between two mountains. The new train station to carry textiles and food into the city and carry processed minerals out, runs along the edge of town, past the mine crusher, up to the massive smelter-stack that sits on the hill. (They tried to put it out of the way so the smoke wouldn’t blow into the valley. Sometimes that works, sometimes it doesn’t.) The nicer houses sit in the center of town by the shops that run down the old main street. The shoddier ones sit closest to the mines. Older families who’ve worked for generations usually buy property toward the middle of the valley. Running water is a recent installation. The new boarding house for the mine’s temporary workers just got it installed, and the price went up accordingly, but because it’s so new, people are excited to stay there. There’s one doctor who lives on the main street, but his assistants keep leaving every few years. They usually take one of the town girls with them.)

The inciting incident of the story, is that <Unnamed Element>, which we’ll call Elum, was found in Marena, which wouldn’t be a big deal, except it’s directly underneath the prosperous city center and the richest people’s houses. Elum is an exciting new gaseous-liquid [thingy] that can be processed to be woven and can also be used as a weapon. It’s still mined though, so it turns into a very large legal battle between the mines based in Ellenville, the rich people of Ellenville, the weavers, the researchers who found the deposit, the rich people who live in Marena, the working class who live in Marena, and the capital aristocracy who are happy they just found a new weapon to use on their neighbors.

(I imagine the deposit ending up as an underground mine, with the entrance far from the capital. A new weaving center is set up that isn’t on the river to process the new material and house the workers, and that gains its own city center that’s relatively “new” and more futuresque-steampunk; I imagine the processing plant underneath a zeppelin-space, since it runs off a byproduct of the Elum. Taller apartment complexes because pumping power has improved. I don’t want ‘modern-esque’ cars in this space, so I have to think of an alternative and perhaps the factory for those is also in the newer area.)

But behind all of that, I want Marena to develop enough that the average person forgets how the mining and weaving are done. Physically, I want it out of sight, out of mind. So the living spaces and communal spaces will reflect that.

Ellenville materials are in high demand, but the city itself struggles to stay relevant. Resorts, often run by the generational families with property, spring up outside of the town. Tourism clashes with industry, old materials with the exciting/popular Elum, and that's my basis for the later infrastructure of Ellenville itself.

#Ellenville #writing #I hope this was a good answer! <3 #thank you so much!!! this was so fun to put into words. It made my night. <3 <3 I'm more excited to write something in #this world now; there are so many stories to tell. Elum is ~magic~ too btw; it's just at the beginning stages of affecting infrastructure #asks

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rainiishowers · 2 years

Text

Obey Me Headcanons :D

A/N: As the title says lol

Feel free to take any of these for your own, perhaps a part two if I think to do it

A fair amount if these are made by drawings I’ve seen or just inspiration from others If you want any headcanons for specific characters, feel free to send an ask!

--------------

Levi has freckles if you squint hard enough, and he has fluffy hair sometimes when he wakes up

The Older Bros have hairclips in each other color but Mams and Lucifer don’t wear them a lot, Levi does sometimes but he never explains the meaning

The amount of times Lucifer and Mammon saved Asmo from clubs early on in their time in the Devildom is a lot.

Mammon won Levi a plushy he wanted at a carnival once

All of them have stims.

Beel makes a soft buzzing noise out of stress or boredom sometimes

Levi 100% has stress balls or toys that his brothers can use anytime, just some people Lucifer doesn’t use it all that much

Mammon has tattoos

Belphie has two forms, his solid form we are use to and his “gas” form. He can use the other form to seep into people’s minds more easily, whether to give them nightmares that seem so real and deadly or dreams that are calming and nice.

I imagine this gaseous form looks like a galaxy, transparent black with purple, blues and pinks with stars accompanying it.

Beel and Mammon sometimes has friendly racing competitions, Mammon, being the the faster one, often wins these but Beel is always close behind thanks to his stamina.

Asmo actually files down the edges of Satan’s claws if he lets him, giving him a even sharper edge and just making them look stylish with the nail polish he chooses.

I imagine the characters have a annual singing “competition” whenever a song is released for a character, singing to MC, you can imagine it romantically or just platonic fun (minus Luke, his is just platonic)

I like to imagine MC just being like “alright, new event, are the outfits going to be ugly or actually decent?” (this is more of a crack/joke headcanon obvi lol)

Lucifer has some very small specks of white in his wings if you squint really hard, and he’s thankful it isn’t that noticeable.

Mammon was a parent figure to baby Satan when Lucifer was busy, which was and is a lot.

Levi sucks on ice and he has a mini freezer where he keeps it. Whether it’s a game or just reading manga.

Satan grew his fangs when he was young, catching all the brothers by surprise

Beel always (or tries to) makes sure everyone has food before he eats too much, he cares for his family more then food

Belphie is the man to go to whenever you need extra pillows or blankets, you may have to promise him a cuddle session later (only if it’s you, if it’s anyone else, besides Beel, he’ll most likely say no)

You never want to catch Barbatos in a bad mood, while it usually takes a while for him to actually be in one, he has this threatening aura with a forced smile upon his lips if he does get mad.

#obey me shall we date #omswd #om! brothers #om! lucifer #om! mammon #om! leviathan #om! satan #om! asmodeus #om! beelzebub #om! belphegor #om! mc #om! barbatos #omswd headcanons

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imaginethebeautifulworld · 1 year

Text

newt geiszler: voices

Newt accidentally picked up a little something extra during his first brush with a Kaiju brain. But he's fine. It's fine. Everything's fine. (It's not.)

Finally got around to watching Pacific Rim: Uprising, and I spiraled. My attempt at giving Newt a more satisfying "ending." 4.326 words @_@

The Anteverse was a different kind of Darkness.

The air was toxic, polluted with the ashes of those who had come before, those who They conquered. Consumed.

He was running.

Every step was a deathtrap; the ground below him was hardly stable, every move sent up another small cloud of dust. There was a constant, distant thrumming, shuddering through his skull.

They were Furious.

They were Seeking.

They were Coming.

Where the fuck was he supposed to run- where could he hide- when They were Watching? When They Saw everything?

The Breach was closed and he was stuck here with Them; there was no escape, no way out.

He was trapped.

He kept running.

“I hate you,” had been the last words he had heard. “I hate you,” in a tone so terrified, so-

He kept running, ignoring the way each patch of exposed skin burned, how the lacerations all over his fingers felt like they were boiling.

He slipped down a small hill, nearly falling on his face, and he kept running. Praying to the Unforgiving Universe to send him some sort of release.

“I hate you,” his mind repeated, and he tried not to think about how he had brought this on himself.

His chest was killing him, a stabbing pain in his hip sending him off-kilter even as he kept going, kept fighting, kept running.

Past the carcasses of the experiments They had abandoned.

Past the crevices spewing acidic, gaseous compounds that left his nose bloody.

There had to be somewhere he could go. Somewhere he could rest, somewhere he could hide.

A cold chill, the sensation of a thousand eyes all looking his way froze him to the core.

It was too late; They had Found him.

They were Coming, and he needed-

He needed-

No-

“No!”

Newt clawed his way back to consciousness, a scream on his lips and his chest heaving with exertion.

For a moment, he could do nothing but stare uncomprehendingly at the faint yellow glow on his walls, before Reality was crashing in and he dug his fists into his sockets, heaving a very, very, very exhausted breath.

Another fucking nightmare.

And the dreams tonight had actually started out… kind of peaceful, for once.

He had been years younger, visiting a tea garden with the Pentecost kiddos, Mako rambling excitedly as she told her baby brother all about the koi swimming in the pond under them.

But then- of fucking course- that damned Blue.

It started slow, a tiny splash of ink somewhere just out of frame. But then it started to seep, saturating the edges, and before he knew it, it was everywhere-

-Everywhere, and he was drowning in a sea of electric blue, choking on the ash of a noxious atmosphere, and he was being ripped apart and They were-

“Dude. You gotta breathe,” he chided himself.

Running his hands through his hair, he focused his thoughts on his immediate surroundings- the pink lava lamp from Mako, the weird South African succulent from Jin, the abandoned diary he had been trying to finish since 2020.

He counted his breaths, allowed the familiar surroundings to ground him, the continuous movement of fingers against scalp physically removing him from the roller coaster of recollection- some moments his, some ghosts from Hermann’s past, and others-

The others came from a world he never wanted to think about again.

But the images were seared into his retinas, forever burned into his mind; his own memories and Their memories, superimposed over one another, an imperfect layering that hurt to look at too long, hurt to think about too long, hurt to-

"I hate you."

His mind caught hold once more of the mantra that had threaded itself through the latest sequence of bad dreams, another attempt by those fucking Things to try and distort all his original memories.

Hermann had been furious. Horrified. Heartbroken. And Newt-

“No; that would never happen.”

Sure, Hermann had definitely said the words before, and there had been a few moments when he had made that exact look, but it had never been-

"I hate you."

-so broken.

No… No, he remembered.

Hermann had been trying not to laugh and failing miserably, his eyes crinkled at the edges, a slight twist curling his lips. Newt had been soaring, knowing he had gotten the man to crack, even if it was over something stupid and kind of embarrassing.

He remembered thinking how beautiful Herms looked when he was joking around, how much younger and carefree the man seemed when he finally let those walls come down.

Hell, Newt could still hear the orchestral trap playing from his desktop, could still smell the formaldehyde, could still taste the cinnamon from his chai.

That was the memory.

He knew it in his bones.

There was no way Herms could ever hate-

"Good day, Dr. Geiszler."

-oh.

The failed first meeting.

The aborted correspondence.

The weeks he spent silently mourning a relationship that hadn’t actually happened.

Hermann had taken one look at him- had spent barely five minutes with him- before they were both fighting, both saying- shouting- things that they would regret later.

Well… Newt did at least.

He still couldn't say for sure what was going on in Hermann’s head half the time.

Those memories- the late nights wanting to hit “Send” on an email that would likely never get read, the sleepless mornings when he almost burned every letter and postcard and stupid sticker, the rainy evenings when he curled up with the same tea Herm had once recommended for migraines- they were tinted in their own distinct shade of blue, tinged in melancholia.

And now they were mutating into a very, very familiar shade that was permeating fucking everything these days.

"Okay, so maybe he hated me at some point. But that was in the past; things are different now!"

Are they?

Newt shuddered as that Voice made its appearance, a presence that had been lingering since his first Drift, one that he had thought was just fear at the time, just an after-image. But it had clawed through his mind, settled deep in his subconscious.

He could feel his memories shifting, and at first- at first- he thought it was just a fluke. Everyone misremembers things from their childhood; everyone forgets little things along the way.

But he knew Mutti never really hated him. That Dad hadn’t been looking for any excuse to get rid of him. That Onkel Illia definitely didn’t-

-didn’t-

-did he?

Blame it on the late night or his likely endless dossier of undiagnosed disorders, but now he wasn’t sure of… anything, really.

Another tremor tore through him, and he felt the floor rise to meet him- when had he even stood up?- his knees slamming into the thin carpet with a painful thud.

Gravity had finally failed him. Or his body had. Or-

Ugh, whatever.

Wasn’t really that important, not when-

Not when-

Not when that fucking Blue-

Every memory he tried to cling to, each brighter and bolder and more vibrant than the last, was shifting right in front of him, taking on a distorted refraction until it was hard to tell where Their influence ended and Reality began.

It was like trying to focus through a broken lens; once there was even the smallest fissure, everything went to shit. It was too hard to focus; the images, the memories-

Too chaotic.

Too fractured.

Too much.

The worst part was knowing that They didn't even have to work too hard on corrupting some of those memories, his anxieties already offering more than enough wiggle room for Their ambitions.

Which he was still piecing together- an investigation started the very moment five weeks ago when he realized those weren’t his normal intrusive thoughts- but he was pretty sure he had it figured out.

"Lemme guess- Total surrender, right? Total submission?"

Gaia help him if anyone walked in on him right now. Would make a hell of an impression, one the guys who saved the world curled up on the floor, lights off, desperately gasping for air, and seemingly arguing with himself. He could feel another nosebleed too; that would only add to the appeal.

Yes, but We want You to beg for it.

Okay, that was worth some semi-hysterical laughter that definitely wasn’t teetering a little too closely towards being a broken sob.

"Yeah,” he finally managed, elongating the word. “That’s not gonna happen."

Give it time. You're already at the Brink.

He refused to believe that. Well, tried to anyway. It wasn't exactly like he could always trust what was in his own head, even before the fucking-

"I hate you," he ground out, repeatedly the very words still scrambling around his consciousness like the family of fruit flies he had accidentally-on-purpose released back in his AP Bio class an eternity ago.

The Voice hummed in amusement.

To hate Us is to hate Yourself.

Oh fuck off.

"You're not Me."

Schematics. We will be.

There was a silence, a prolonged one, and for a moment he let himself hope that he was temporarily alone in his own head again, praying that he could finally relax, even if- yeah, ok- that final bit had been way more foreboding than he would like.

He refused to think about how much more active that Voice had been lately, how much louder it had become, how coherent and coercive it was. A steady presence these days, one he couldn't even shake when he was trying to sleep.

And that? That crushed the modicum of hope, all too certain They were still there.

"Get out of my head."

He wasn't sure if that was a plea or a command at this point.

He was just so damn tired of it all.

He wasn't sure what They wanted.

He knew exactly what They wanted.

"It's never going to happen; just quit while You're ahead."

So self-assured, and yet so close to giving up.

The Voice almost sounded like it was pitying him.

He scowled, but was soon distracted in trying to repress a shiver as Something shifted, could swear he felt the phantom sensation of touch against his temples, the ghost of a connection he hadn't stopped having nightmares about.

The Voice returned, quiet, still pitying.

Why keep fighting? None of Them have seen Your struggle. Have any of Them even tried to reach out to check on You? Has He-

"Leave him out of this," he interrupted, words coming out as a low growl.

The Voice sounded delighted by it.

You know He doesn't care about You.

Images again, false memories, woven just enough with the Truth, and it was an unforgiving reel layering itself, a cacophony of anger and bitterness and longing for the impossible that would never- could never- be.

And in the center of it all was-

"No. Just… Just stop."

He was exhausted, but the assault was relentless.

We'll take care of You. We'll reward You in ways You can't even begin to imagine.

He let out a humourless, shaking laugh. “Changing tactics, huh? That’s no fair you know, using his voice."

How else can We get You to listen?

Well, They had a point. Even if it was just plain, fucking cruel.

We could make You happy, Newton. All You have to do is let Us take control.

Blame it once more on his fatigue, on his inability to fire on all cylinders- three sleepless nights straight because of insomnia, questionably labeled energy drinks, and an alien brain parasite will do that to ya- but he only partially registered his body moving, scarcely was involved in the elegant shuffling from his room towards the mostly packed-up lab, barely coherent as he approached the last remaining piece of Kaiju, still safely stored in a pressure controlled tank.

He could have easily convinced himself it was just another dream, the motions practically automatic. He wasn’t actually booting up the computer, wasn’t pulling out the MacGyvered monstrosity he had thrown together with scraps, wasn’t connecting the PONS unit to the tank, wasn’t adjusting the headse-

Headset…

Headset?

Headset!

In the span of microseconds, Newt finally regained control and practically teleported into the other half of the room, panting from exertion and panic and unable to do anything but helplessly stare at the tissue sample in horror, entire body shaking.

He didn’t know what had brought him here, what had made him connect the interface, what had possessed him to put on the headset, what-

The what- or more the who- didn't really matter in this equation.

What mattered was that he was back in control.

What mattered was that he had ever been out of control.

What mattered was that the remaining sample of what was supposed to be a dead chunk of Kaiju brain seemed to be reaching for him.

And there was a terrible, alarming, overwhelmingly excited part that wanted to reach back.

For the first time since all of this had started, he was terrified.

"N- No, no, no, I don’t, I don’t- I don't want this!"

His voice echoed through the empty room, loud and piercing in the deadly quiet night.

Hush, Newton. Do You intend on waking the whole base?

That Voice again, mocking him, digging in somewhere under his skin, clawing through his head.

He had to fight this.

Clearly self-observation hadn’t been cutting it, and somewhere along the way it had spiraled so far beyond his control that he wondered how much else had already gone wrong, what other damage They had already done without him knowing. But even if he wanted to fight, there was no way he could do it alone.

He needed-

He needed help.

"I'm not going to do it."

You will.

The brusque dismissal awakened something.

Somewhere, deep, deep inside, there was still a spark of his old spirit.

A flash of the proud, cocky, and downright stubborn rebellion that got him through years of bullying, years of naysayers, years of collecting accolades and degrees almost out of spite and the sheer knowledge that he could. It was only a flash, but it was enough for him to feel control slip back into his fingers properly, for the first time in a long time.

"No."

Really, It was Their own fault for choosing to imitate Hermann's voice; the math wizard always had a knack for bringing out Newt's chutzpah.

For a moment, for one sweet, blessed moment, he was alone in his own mind again, in full control.

For a brief, brief second, he started to think he had finally reclaimed his autonomy.

But it didn't last long.

Nothing good ever does, in his experience.

If You do not cooperate, Dr. Gottlieb certainly will.

Newt felt his chest constrict, the sensation of the world falling out from under him.

Or maybe that was just him falling against the desk.

"What?"

Stupid boy. You don't really think You’re the one We want, do You?

His world had grown smaller, pinpricks of Darkness greedily digging in, and that spark of resistance- that fragile moment of hope- was completely snuffed out.

His mind was reeling, trying desperately to figure out how to get out of this, how to-

"Why."

In the end, he was still a Child of Science, and Science always demanded answers to the Unknown. And maybe?

Maybe he could figure something out. Some sort of plan, some way to-

Why?

"Yeah you heard me. Why in the hell-"

His words cut off, the questions he had all too incomprehensible to be spoken aloud. Luckily- ha.- he didn't need to say anything for Them to know.

Your obsession was simply- Oh, how to put this? - simply pitiful. Your mind, already so fascinated, made it all too easy for Us to slip inside, settling in where there was already respect and admiration. We’ve been here since the first time You dared to seek Us out. And Dr. Gottlieb-

"No,” Newt was barely aware of his voice cracking, defeat and guilt and a thousand other emotions he couldn’t begin to recognize crushing him beneath their weight. The truth was starting to finally show itself, and it was bringing a whole new level to Newt’s on-again off-again sense of self-loathing.

“No, Hermann… Hermann offered to come! He-”

He offered. You wanted to stop Him. We didn’t let You.

And it was true, he realized now. Now that They were letting him remember.

He had known the risks, knew it would likely kill him to Drift again. It was why he was in such a rush, trying to avoid listening to Herms, trying desperately to ignore logic and reason, knowing if he stopped for a second, if he let himself think-

And Hermann- Dammit, Hermann!- had offered to share the burden, had wanted to protect him. And Newt wanted to argue- It could kill them both! A neutralized tissue sample was one thing, but Drifting with a brain still tethered to the Hivemind was glorified suicide. Even with two-!

But everything had gone kind of… sideways… before he could try to convey any of it, the whole world sorta hazy and distant.

When he thought about it later, after the partying and celebrating and several long overdue movie nights, he had chalked it up to the non-stop roller coaster of adrenaline and terror and general chaos of the last few hours as he agreed, now realizing-

You led Us right to Him.

-Newt had damned him. Damned them both.

Sharp enough to learn Our plans, factoring in each attack and predicting Our final strike to a near perfect instant. The same mind behind the very machines used to stand against Us? A god of His own design, and so desperate to protect You. His desperation, His pride, His affections for You- All too easy to pull Him under.

He had to warn him. He had to-

It’s too late, Newton. A single push, and He would crumble. Surely even fractured, His mind will still be as beautiful as it is whole.

He brought this on them.

It was all his fau-

No. Stop that.

Somehow, Newt managed to kick himself out of the self-destructive spiral just long enough to think. If They took Hermann-

Hermann, in spite of his jaded views of the literary arts, waxed poetic constantly about how numbers were the language of the stars, how everything came down to simple- “Sure, Herms. ‘Simple,’ my ass.”- mathematics, every minute shift and atomic change and Brobdingnagian fluctuation quantifiable, calculable, and predictable.

And the damned Parasites were right; of course They were.

Hermann had created the Jaegers. A lot of people didn’t really remember that it was his coding woven into their very foundations, didn’t realize the stuffy scientist with grandpa fashion sense was a literal badass. And Herms-

Herms knew the Breach, discovered, hypothesized, and proved the existing, recurring sequences behind every attack, ran the numbers so often that Newt saw the equations in his sleep. And Hermann was-

No.

Newt tried not to visualize the kind of enemy Hermann could make if They took control, tried not to imagine how dangerous that beautiful, baffling brain could be if pit against Humanity.

There was no universe, not a single reality, where Newt would ever let that happen.

Not if there was any chance he could stop it.

And somewhere, somewhere deep and forgotten, the embers of hope were reigniting, the spark never fully extinguished after all.

Hermann was clever, and stupidly, stubbornly, stupendously determined.

If Newt could keep Herm’s mind intact, could somehow find a way to drop enough hints that “Dr. Geiszler” wasn’t quite himself…

Herm could figure it out. Newt knew he would.

He also knew it would literally be a nightmare trying to keep it together long enough for anyone to realize that something was off. Fighting Something in his own head would-

There was no guarantee any of it would work, even if he fought against Them every step of the way.

But it didn’t matter. He-

He had to protect Hermann.

If he could protect Hermann, he could protect everyone else, too.

"If I do this, I need you to swear you'll leave him alone."

What could possibly make that worth Our while?

He couldn’t hide the anger even if he wanted. “You’re in my head; You tell me.”

For a moment, The Precursors were silent, calculating, strategizing, considering.

There are things You don’t know which We need.

"I could learn."

And he could. He would. If it meant saving-

Hell, for Herms? He’d force his way through 10 more doctorates if he had to.

Is this a surrender, Dr. Geiszler?

...Oh.

Oh shit; there it was.

The surrender he was willing to beg for, the submission They had been waiting for. He knew he was playing right into Their hands- or tentacles, maybe?- but it wasn’t like there was any other choice.

"You can’t believe that, you ridiculous man! You know there’s always another way."

Perhaps a last defense, a final hope, but his mind began screaming at him in frustration, the final spark of resistance layered among fear and desperation. Kind of funny, in that ironic sort of way, that his inner voice sounded even more Hermann-esque than the one the Precursors had adopted.

But there was no choice.

He knew he could stall Them, long enough that Hermann-

"Yes! Yes, let me help you, Newton!”

His mind raged again, but Newt just laughed it off.

He couldn't help picturing a mini-Hermann arguing against his recklessness, against what he knew himself to be... stupid, really.

Pity it wasn't the real deal standing here with him, making that adorable scowly face as he tried to convince Newt to reconsider.

Were Hermann here, Newt might actually believe he had a chance of surviving this.

His mind had resorted to mostly incomprehensible shouting, and he could see the miniature version of his Drift partner kicking over a trash can in its frustration. There were still some stray pieces Newt could pick up, pleas for him to stop and think for a moment, but really what difference would it make?

Hermann was more essential, and Newt was-

"I swear if you even dare consider self-deprecating I will-"

-Newt was just Newt.

And with worldwide destruction a certain alternative, there really was no choice.

"Okay. I’ll- God-fucking-dammit- I’ll do it, you assholes."

Good boy, Newton. Very good.

That mini-Hermann in the back of his mind had resorted to unholy cursing in a dialect Newt wasn’t sure he even knew, and he had to force down a wave of disgust with himself. His own autonomy, his own sense of self-

But there was a sense of calm, too.

He was saving Hermann, and maybe- Maybe somehow Hermann could someday save him, too.

He barely processed his shuffle back across the lab, letting his thoughts numb as he adjusted the headset, carefully secured the chin strap. Through the fog, Newt took another glance around the lab, half-hoping that someone would wander in, that somehow-?

But there was no one else.

No deus ex machina.

Just Newt and his brain full of genocidal, fascist aliens.

What a sick cosmic joke.

And cruelest of all, he couldn’t think of a single, clever thing to say, all the little witticisms he hoped to have on hand for “The End” completely abandoning him. Like trying to remember your favorite movie on comm-

“Ogata! It worked!”

It was a passing, unbidden memory of the eye-patch wearing scientist who first got him hooked on giant monsters, drifting from his subconscious, a badass in all the ways Newt had once only dreamed of.

Hell, if things were different, maybe he would have started wearing an eyepatch. Serizawa rocked it, and it would have made Mako laugh.

Oh, Mako-

His chest ached at the thought of her, his not-really-but-yes-really adopted little sister. And Jake, who he still considered a younger brother. And Herc and Tendo and Alison and-

Dad.

Fuck; he may never get to talk to Dad again. Or-

Uncle Illia.

Or Mom. Or-

Or Hermann.

And just when they were starting to get along again.

“It’s not too late, Newton.”

He shook at the very clear, distinct thought, still wrapped in all the soft warmth and concern that was pure Hermann. So bright, so vibrant, so clear, it was as if the man were standing right here.

“You know me, Herms… It was too late the second that Breach opened.”

The Precursors were getting restless, an involuntary, full body twitch ripping through him.

“Okay! Holy heck, can’t a guy have some last words?”

No response.

Figures.

They were getting what They wanted; why bother acknowledging him now?

“Sorry I won’t have a chance to say goodbye. And uh… Kinda have a feeling I’m gonna miss a few birthdays, so uh… Yeah. Sorry, for that. I hope y’all…”

He sighed to himself, a frustrated little sound through his nostrils, eyes narrowing in annoyance, thoughts turning inward.

“You know what? Fuck this. I hope they figure it out and wreck Your shit. I hope they ruin everything; I hope they live and thrive in spite of You. I want them to find happiness no matter what You try to throw at them. And they will. Because they’re braver and stronger than You coul- Dammit!”

A sharp, blazing blue pain, just behind his left eye, a sensation that was all-too familiar now, one that he knew was a precursor- heh- to something even worse.

He wasn’t fully in control of his own body anymore, knew he had only seconds left, the Precursors already making his thumb move against his will, but he wasn’t gonna go quietly into that good night; screw that!

Filling his words with every ounce of spite and rebellion and pure human fury he could, he growled out what would- probably- be his last act of rebellion.

“Go fuck Yourselves.”

With the sharp push of a button, Newt Geiszler was gone.

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succubus-interactivefiction · 2 years

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Announcing a new project!!!

So, with witch’s familiar buried in the backyard after the beating it took, warden has been feeling lonely. So I am working on a new project alongside Time Warden, chapter one is nearly complete btw.

This new project is called Symbiosis and follows a disillusioned superhero as they bond with their nemesis, a symbiotic life form, to destroy modern hero culture and return it to its roots. Modern heroes have become little more than villains, caring more about photoshoots and who they are seen with than actually stopping crime.

The MC is a damaged individual, their formerly idealistic self having died somewhere along the way to becoming an instantly recognizable hero. They will have to struggle with their current depression and PTSD along the way. Whether that is finding help, or letting it all fester is largely up to the reader, however, actions do have consequences and just because the MC is getting help does not mean it will work when they are constantly killing anyone in their way.

Currently there are four powersets I have in mind. I’ll get into those in a different post.

The MC will be customizable obviously, but so will all the RO’s as well as the symbiote. You will be able to choose from a gaseous, plantlike, gelatinous, or synaptic symbiote when you create it in the prologue. It’s origins are also up to the reader. Alien, scientific creation, or ancient lifeform are all available. Each form and origin for the symbiote will have different effects on the hero and their powers.

Speaking of ROs there are five.

The Symbiote, yes you can romance your symbiote if you like. Obviously it will be more of an emotional romance but it is possible.

The High School Sweetheart. They were with you at the hero academy but shortly after graduation went bad and at the beginning of the story the MC still does not know why. Last the MC heard they were still locked up in a maximum security prison.

The Icon. The hero everyone on the planet knows on sight. They have been a hero for decades and are quite a bit older than the MC. However, the MC soon discovers that the Icon is also disillusioned with modern heroes and they can bond over their shared hatred

The Cashier. A normal civilian, one who has a huge crush on the MC’s civilian identity. They are fairly down-to-earth and easy-going. However, they have strong opinions regarding heroes and they are not good. They see heroes as using the public to keep themselves propped up. Would they be able to look past this and form a relationship with the MC?

The Cop. Well, technically Detective. They have seen the corruption at the heart of modern hero culture and are determined to stamp it out and get heroes back to doing what they once did, protecting people and not just doing it for the PR. They have formed an attachment to the MC after learning their civilian identity. For the last few years a handmade birthday card with the MC’s real name has arrived for them from the Detective. It’s possible they have feelings for the hero.

Poly routes will be possible, most involving the Symbiote and one of the others.

Were as WF was about a kind individual going bad, Symbiosis is the opposite, a once good individual finding their way back, or not, it is up to you after all. Not to say the MC is truly bad at the beginning, but they are on that edge. One move and they could topple into being something truly sinister.

So, you can help the MC to become the true hero they wanted to be as a child, or push them over the edge into being a merciless killer, it’s mostly up to you.

#happysuccubus #interactive fiction #writing #newproject #symbiosis #symbiote #superhero #choice of games

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pathfinderunlocked · 1 year

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Frost Man Vampire Spawn - CR5 Undead

It’s nearly impossible for most creatures to live in the arctic wilderness. But that just means that if you run into a creature, there’s a good chance it’s not actually alive.

Artwork by Josh Nizzi at joshnizzi.com, copyright Marvel Studios.

Frost Men are a race of wandering, rugged nomads who live in the wilderness of the tundra at the edges of the world. They call themselves frost folk, but other races only ever see adult males, and so call them frost men. The frost folk never correct them. They’re originally from Forgotten Realms, and appeared in D&D 1e and 3e, but were converted to Pathfinder by Necromancer Games. The D&D 3e lore is somewhat different, making female frost folk simply an unusual sight instead of being unheard of.

This is a frost man that was turned into a vampire’s thrall, presumably after trying to fight a vampire and losing. Vampire spawns typically ignore everything about the base creature and completely overwrite their stats with those of a wight, but to me that makes more sense when the base creature is a human. I wanted something that felt more like it was still connected to the frozen wilderness, even in undeath.

It annoys me that the typical vampiric “if defeated in combat, it becomes totally invulnerable and flies home to its coffin” nonsense applies to vampire spawns, which are theoretically meant to be used as nameless combat minions in a vampire adventure, not complex exploration encounters that force you to track down each one’s coffin. A lot of vampire spawns probably don’t even have coffins, considering they're just captured enemies being used as cannon fodder. With that in mind, I slightly altered the frost man vampire spawn’s version of this ability, compared to a typical vampire.

Frost Man Vampire Spawn - CR 5

The pale, largely unprotected body of this frost man wanderer seems unaffected by the ice and snow. He has an axe in one hand, and he casts no shadow on the frozen tundra.

XP 1,600 LE Medium undead (cold) Init +3 Senses darkvision 60 ft.; Perception +10

DEFENSE

AC 19, touch 13, flat-footed 16 (+2 armor, +3 Dex, +4 natural) hp 38 (4d8+20); fast healing 2 Fort +5, Ref +4, Will +7 Defensive Abilities channel resistance +2 DR 5/silver Immune cold, undead traits Resist electricity 10 Weaknesses vulnerability to fire, vampire weaknesses

OFFENSE

Speed 30 ft. Melee slam +6 (1d4+4 plus energy drain) or morningstar +8 (1d8+4) or morningstar +8 (1d8+3) and slam +1 (1d4+2 plus energy drain) Ranged composite longbow +6 (1d8+3/x3) Special Attacks blood drain, dominate (DC 16), energy drain (1 level, DC 16)

STATISTICS

Str 16, Dex 16, Con —, Int 12, Wis 17, Cha 19 Base Atk +3; CMB +6; CMD 19 Feats Toughness, Weapon Focus (morningstar) Skills Intimidate +11, Perception +10, Sense Motive +10, Survival +7, Stealth +18 Languages Common, Frost Man, Necril SQ gaseous form, shadowless, spider climb Gear leather armor, mwk light flail, composite longbow (+3 Str), 30 arrows

SPECIAL ABILITIES

Frost Howl (Su) Once per day as a standard action, with its voice, a frost man vampire spawn can create a ten foot ring of supernatural frost on the ground around it. Creatures within a 10-foot radius of the frost man vampire spawn when it performs this technique take 1d6+4 points of cold damage, and can make a DC 16 Reflex save to halve this damage. The save DC is Charisma-based.

A frost man vampire spawn is immune to the effects of its own ring of frost. A creature can walk within or through the area of ice at half its normal speed with a successful DC 10 Acrobatics check. Failure by 4 or less means the creature can’t move that round (and must succeed at a Reflex save or fall); failure by 5 or more means it falls (see the Acrobatics skill). Creatures that do not move on their turn do not need to attempt this check. The ring of frost lasts until it naturally melts (about 6 hours in comfortable weather).

A frost man vampire spawn cannot use this technique if it is silenced.

Ice Blast (Su) Three times per day as a standard action, a frost man vampire spawn can release a blast of freezing mist in a 30-foot cone from the eye underneath its eye patch. A frost man vampire spawn can remove its eye patch as a free action. A creature in the area takes 3d6 points of cold damage (DC 16 Reflex for half). The save DC is Charisma-based.

Hunter’s Mark (Su) As a swift action, once per day, a frost man vampire spawn may place an invisible mark on a creature that it can see. Its attacks against this target have a +2 bonus to hit, and the frost man vampire thrall can perceive the approximate direction of the marked creature if it is within 1000 feet. This effect lasts for one hour.

Blood Drain (Su) A frost man vampire spawn can suck blood from a grappled opponent; if the vampire spawn establishes or maintains a pin, it drains blood, dealing 1d4 points of Constitution damage. The vampire spawn heals 5 hit points or gains 5 temporary hit points for 1 hour (up to a maximum number of temporary hit points equal to its full normal hit points) each round it drains blood.

Dominate (Su) A frost man vampire spawn can crush the will of an opponent with the cold subtype as a standard action. Anyone the spawn targets must succeed on a Will save (DC 16) or fall instantly under the frost man vampire spawn’s influence, as though by a dominate monster spell (caster level 12th). The ability has a range of 30 feet.

Energy Drain (Su) A creature hit by a frost man vampire spawn’s slam (or other natural weapon) gains one negative level. This ability only triggers once per round, regardless of the number of attacks a frost man vampire spawn makes. See Energy Drain description for details.

Vampiric Fast Healing (Su) A frost man vampire spawn gains fast healing 2. If reduced to 0 hit points in combat, a vampire spawn assumes gaseous form (see below) and attempts to escape. It must reach an area of natural outdoor ice or snow within 2 hours or be utterly destroyed. (It can normally travel up to 9 miles in 2 hours.) Additional damage dealt to a frost man vampire spawn forced into gaseous form has no effect. Once at rest, the vampire is helpless, and an ice tomb with 20 hit points forms around it as the gaseous form wears off. The frost man vampire spawn heals at the rate of only 2 hit points per hour while reforming inside this ice tomb, instead of its normal fast healing rate, and remains paralyzed and unconscious until its hit points are fully restored, at which point the ice tomb shatters and the frost man vampire spawn emerges. If the ice tomb is destroyed while the frost man vampire spawn is still healing, the ice tomb reforms 1 hour later unless the frost man vampire spawn is destroyed.

Gaseous Form (Su) When reduced to 0 hit points in combat, a vampire spawn can assume gaseous form (caster level 5th), as the spell, but it can remain gaseous indefinitely and has a fly speed of 20 feet with perfect maneuverability. It cannot assume gaseous form under any other circumstance.

Shadowless (Ex) A frost man vampire spawn casts no shadows and shows no reflection in a mirror.

Spider Climb (Ex) A frost man vampire spawn can climb sheer surfaces as though under the effects of a spider climb spell.

Vampire Weaknesses Frost man vampire spawns cannot tolerate the strong odor of garlic and will not enter an area laced with it. Similarly, they recoil from mirrors or strongly presented holy symbols. These things don’t harm the frost man vampire spawn—they merely keep it at bay. A recoiling frost man vampire spawn must stay at least 5 feet away from the mirror or holy symbol and cannot touch or make melee attacks against that creature. Holding a frost man vampire spawn at bay takes a standard action. After 1 round, a frost man vampire spawn can overcome its revulsion of the object and function normally each round it makes a DC 25 Will save.

Frost man vampire spawns cannot enter a private home or dwelling unless invited in by someone with the authority to do so.

Reducing a frost man vampire spawn’s hit points to 0 or lower incapacitates it but doesn’t always destroy it (see fast healing). However, certain attacks can slay frost man vampire spawns. Exposing any frost man vampire spawn to direct sunlight staggers it on the first round of exposure and destroys it utterly on the second consecutive round of exposure if it does not escape. Each round of immersion in running water inflicts damage on a frost man vampire spawn equal to one-third of its maximum hit points—a frost man vampire spawn reduced to 0 hit points in this manner is destroyed. Driving a wooden stake through a helpless frost man vampire spawn’s heart instantly slays it (this is a full-round action). However, it returns to life if the stake is removed, unless the head is also severed and anointed with holy water.

#D&D #pathfinder 1e #undead #cold

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gamer-octopus · 5 months

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I completed the house of hope today and I just want to write my experience. Spoliers under the cut

Initially I was a little cocky because of the Haarlep fight. He was only level nine and my party is level 12. Jaheira's owlbear form knocked him prone with her crushing jump and Karlach and Lae'zel were able to reduce his hp by a lot. He did get up and mind control Lae'zel but I was able to kill him before that became a problem. Nyssa, my warlock, took care of the imps with eldritch blast.

So I thought you had to talk to the archivist before entering the archive. When I searched the entire house of hope and couldn't find him I looked up a guide and it's advice ended up doing more harm than good for me. It said to become invisible and run to Hope's prison. The problem with this is I could only turn two people invisible, one scroll and Jaheira could cast invisibility. My "solution" for the other two was to cast gaseous form on them. This was my downfall for many attempts. I could get everyone to Hope's prison but the people in gaseous form would be almost dead because the entire hallway would be attacking them and after saving Hope I would then have to deal with everyone in the hallway. The gaseous form people also couldn't dash. Eventually I realized I could kill/force the debtors to transform from a distance with edlritch blast and then have Lae'zel kill their secondary forms with her three attacks, sometimes with the help of Karlach. This meant I only had to worry about the flaming spheres chasing me. I was able to keep ahead of the spheres for the most part.

I then stoll the hammer and the other items. I gave Jaheira the necklace that improves the wearers constitution to 23 and this helped so much when things would attack her in-between her wildshapes.

Rescuing Hope is pretty easy at level 12 with Jaheira, Karlach, and Lae'zel in your party. Karlach had an item that allows her to use dimension door so I had her take Lae'zel up to the first magical chain so she could smash it on her first turn. Lae'zel also had one misty step so after using the hammer she misty stepped to the rock surface above the platforms. I made sure she was nowhere near the edge because in one of the previous attempts one the imps used edlrich blast and pushed her off the edge into the abyss. She was holding the hammer so I couldn't free Hope. The next turn she is able to jump over and smash the second chain. I feel like two turns is pretty good. At this point I have Jaheria, in her owl bear form, and Lae'zel start wailing on the beholders while Nyssa and Karlach take out the Imps. I was surprised you get to control Hope but I'm so glad you can.

I leave the prison and run as quickly as I can to avoid the flaming spheres but one catches me and combat is initiated. I ignore the sphere for now and rush down the hallway and see more dedtors waiting. I have Nyssa cast Hunger of Hagar to try to get five of the debtors to transform but to get five within range all on the edge of the circle and they just step out of the way when the spell was cast. iirc they dont even enter iniative because of this. So I have Nyssa eldritch blast one and this gets them started. The hunger of hagar does do what it was supposed to and two or three of the dedtors transform out of range since they have to walk through it. The rest is just wailing on all the enemies and then focusing on the flaming sphere at the end. I was thinking of going back to Haarleps room to get a full restore but there was still one flaming sphere rolling around and everyone was almost completely back to full after a short rest.

So the party enters the final room. Raphael comes in and has his speech and we meet Hope's sister. I did read one of her notes so it wasn't out of nowhere. To my surprise I'm able to convince Yugir to side with me on the first try. Granted I had a +9, guidance, and dark ones blessing. I quick save right after this because I don't want to fail that roll.

I get obliterated the first time around. Partially due to me using Hope's channel divinity to do a lot of radiant damage, causing her to die. The second attempt doesn't go well either. I was honestly worried I wouldn't be able to do it. There were so many enemies on Raphael's side and he had 666 hp because the devs think they're funny (they are but still).

The third attempt starts off better than the other attempts. I have Nyssa in the middle of the room using eldritch blast to take out the pillars. It takes about 7 eldritch blasts to take out one pillar. I don't even attempt to attack Raphael. I focus on getting one minor down at a time. Jaheira is again in her owl bear because she can knock enemies, and only enemies, prone which helps Karlach and Lae'zel. Hope is regulated to only healing. She just spams mass cure wounds and mass healing word. This keeps everyone at high health pretty well since she's a life domain cleric. This plan doesn't last long though because she runs out of high level spell slots.

Eventually Nyssa, Lae'zel, and Jaheira are all making Death saves. There's still one more pillar. So I decide to use Hope's divine intervention to resurect Nyssa. This is not how the divine intervention works though. I had misread it and assumed it just ressurected one person at half health. My assumption wouldn't have helped Nyssa but I click on it to try anyway and I notice that everyone in my party is going to be affected by this. I reread the description and realize that it might save my butt. Instead of one person coming back at half health anyone in range who is alive gets a long rest and the dead are ressurected at half. I use this and realize it's now possible to win this fight. I quick save here because this is about as good as it could get. There is only one minion, two imps, and one mostly damaged pillar left besides and almost full health Raphael.

I'm able to destroy the pillar and kill the rest of the imps and minion in about three/four turns. Hope is again spaming healing spells. Nyssa is using counterspell to try to stop Raphael from doing his 6 level fire attack but she only has 5th level spell slots so only one works and she runs out of spell slots. Lae'zel, Kalach, and Jaheira are wailing on Raphael and chipping away at his hp. Nyssa starts using spell scrolls. What was really clutch was Raphael failed his save for blindness so everyone had advantage. I purposely had Lae'zel get the final blow since we were here to help her.

After Hope's cutscene I then frantically look for the hammer because Lae'zel started the fight with it but got disarmed early on and I switched to her other sword because I couldn't see it. I was able to use the alt key to find it under a dead body and I was relieved. I would've been depressed if it had disappeared.

The party leaves and the emperor finally learns that Nyssa doesn't trust him. She has been lying to him and playing nice but she is close to the end of the adventure and doesn't want to fake it anymore. I give the gauntlets to the store clerk. Nyssa could've easily lied and kept the gauntlets but I didn't want to risk a fight with her because everyone was low on health.

#bg3 #bg3 spoilers #Nyssa

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maniculum · 1 year

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The College of Grotesque Arts -- Week Nine

For new people, I’m doing the Dungeon23 megadungeon project, basing each room on the marginalia of a different page in the 14th-century Luttrell Psalter. Previous entries in this project can be found here.

I spent all of March slacking off on this project, but I’m trying to catch up now. Let’s see how successful I am at that endeavor. So, this post should have gone up a month ago, but let’s do it now.

As usual, I generated the whole level before I started filling in the rooms. And, I know I complained about the results of using Appendix A on Level Two, but I swear Level Three is worse. Martius, the wizard who ran this level of the dungeon, seems to have been really into an architectural school I can best describe as “annoying to draw”. The Annoying to Draw school places an emphasis on unnecessarily complicated intersections and circular rooms. I hate the circular rooms. After only having one on the first two levels, this level has three. And the intersections… on two separate occasions, a section of passages got so pointlessly complex that I just erased the little wedges of remaining wall and called it a room. In the case of Room 3.28, this still resulted in a room that would be an incredible pain to describe (it was, like, an irregular rhombus with one curved edge) so I just replaced it with a box of roughly the same size and called it good.

As a result of this, I’ve decided Martius was an insufferable hipster, which is a big downgrade from the largely positive portrayal of him you might have gotten from his tower aboveground (carrier pigeons and love letters). The only thing I like about the design of this level is the one hilariously long diagonal hallway, which I think has some pizzazz. I know, I know, you’re thinking “well just change it.” I probably will make a lot of adjustments as I go, but you know, trying to stick to the randomly generated material is what makes it an interesting exercise.

Anyway, the map for this segment is below the cut with the rest of the content. It’s not as bad as the next few, but you can kind of see the disaster coming.

Room 3.1: f.42v

Off to a weird start. Appendix A wants a small room with a fear-inducing gas trap. The Luttrell page for this one is lavishly illustrated but it’s hard to decide what to use. We’ve got three variations on “worm-thing with face”, a weird bird, something that might be a harpy with a vine-like tail, and this disaster:

I legitimately tried to think up something to do with that disaster, but I could not come up with a way to give it an existence that was not sad and pathetic. So we’re going with the weird bird thing — which kind of looks like it might be involved with fear-inducing gas, so I guess that’s for the best. We’re making the room bigger for them, though.

This room is very strange-looking. Up until around ten feet from the floor, it’s fine, though there are a lot of pillars, placed a bit more densely than other rooms. Ten feet above the ground, though, all of the pillars are connected together by horizontal stone “branches” in a strange kind of webwork drop-ceiling. Some of those “branches” are broken — you can see pieces on the floor — and others look newer & cleaner than the rest. It’s clear the Caretakers on this level occasionally maintain them.

Perching on those stone branches are a number of forhtuls. These are bird-like creatures, roughly the size of a parakeet, that seem to have been equipped with long, pointy ears. In addition, rather than feet, they have a pair of prehensile vine-like appendages that they use to wrap around those weird stone branches. They also have a unique defense mechanism: when they feel threatened, they can release a gaseous substance that causes anything that breathes it in to feel a sourceless, directionless terror. They definitely feel threatened when someone comes into their den, so everyone needs to make their Will saves now. If the gas doesn’t cause the intruders to leave, they will descend on them and start pecking for 1 damage a shot, which would be an incredibly embarrassing way to die.

Forhtul: CR 1, XP 400; N Diminutive Magical Beast; Init +3; Senses Low-Light Vision, Darkvision 60ft; Perception +0

DEFENSE: AC 17, touch 17, flat-footed 14 (+4 size, +3 Dex); hp 15 (2d10+4) Saves Fort +5, Ref +6, Will +0

OFFENSE: Speed 10 ft., fly 20 ft. Melee peck +3 (1d2-3); Space 2-1/2 ft.; Reach 2-1/2 ft.; Special Attacks Fear Gas (15ft. radius, DC 15)

STATISTICS: Str 4, Dex 16, Con 14, Int 2, Wis 10, Cha 10; Base Atk +2; CMB -5; CMD 8; Feats Ability Focus (Fear Gas); Skills Fly +8 Special Qualities Magical Beast Traits

SPECIAL ABILITIES:

Fear Gas (Sp): A Forhtul can emit a gas that causes everyone within a 10-ft radius to experience fear (as the fear spell). This is a mind-affecting fear effect that allows a DC 15 Will save to resist. The gas itself is slightly magical, and will not function in situations where magic would not be efficacious.

Room 3.2: f.43r

Speaking of Caretakers, it looks like that’s what we’ve got in this room, because that’s the most reasonable interpretation of both the grotesques on this page, so I’m just picking one.

Caretaker Four is a construct that’s been shaped to look human from the waist up — though with an unusually long neck — but has a pair of sturdy, outward-pointing, animal-like legs. It seems to have been rather artistically designed, including not only fine garments, but even simulated hair styled in a way that was presumably in fashion when it was new. It could never pass as organic under close inspection — all of its parts are metal, but expertly shaped, painted, and maintained; the hair is actually extremely fine gold wire. It carries with it two large golden bells, which are enchanted to aid in its duties as well as to produce a supernaturally lovely musical tone. When not in use, these bells attach to clips on its belt. (Additional information under stat block.)

Caretaker Four: CR 10, XP 9600; N Medium Construct; Init +8; Senses Low-Light Vision, Darkvision 60ft, Blindsense 30ft; Perception +11

DEFENSE: AC 28, touch 16, flat-footed 22 (+4 Dex, +2 dodge, +12 natural); hp 92 (13d10+20); Saves Fort +4, Ref +10, Will +4; DR 5/- SR 25

OFFENSE: Speed 30 ft.; Melee 2 slams +21 (1d4+8); Special Attacks Gaze of Compliance (DC 18)

Spell-Like Abilities (CL 13; DC 15 + spell level):

At Will — Create Food and Water, Deep Slumber, Minor Creation, Prestidigitation.

3/day — Fabricate, Hold Monster, Telekinesis, Wall of Force.

1/day — Forceful Hand, Mass Suggestion, Stone to Flesh, Flesh to Stone.

STATISTICS: Str 26, Dex 18, Con 0, Int 0, Wis 10, Cha 10; Base Atk +13; CMB +21; CMD 35; Feats Improved Initiative, Lightning Reflexes; Skills Perception +11; Special Qualities: Construct Traits, Swift Reactions

SPECIAL ABILITIES:

Gaze of Compliance (Su): An opponent that meets Caretaker Four's gaze within 30ft. becomes charmed (as charm person) for 1 day unless they succeed at a DC 18 Will save. Anyone subject to this effect becomes convinced that Caretaker Four possesses consciousness (it doesn’t) and is strongly motivated to please it by ensuring all other creatures in the area are well-behaved and relocated to their appropriate areas if necessary. A successful saving throw negates the effect. Each opponent within range of a gaze attack must attempt a saving throw each round at the beginning of his or her turn in the initiative order.

Swift Reactions (Ex): Caretaker Four moves and reacts much more swiftly than normal constructs. They gain ‘Improved Initiative' and ‘Lightning Reflexes' as bonus feats, and gain a +2 dodge bonus to AC.

Bell of Material Repair: When rung, casts make whole on both the user and an object of their choice within 30ft. Can be used 6/day.

Bell of Beaſt Repair: When rung, casts cure critical wounds on both the user and a creature of their choice within 30ft. Can be used 3/day.

As usual with Caretakers, Caretaker Four is not interested in combat or engaging with the PCs in any way unless provoked. If PCs initiate combat, interfere with its duties, or try to steal one of those useful bells, Caretaker Four will engage in the following way.

Caretaker Four’s first resort is its Gaze of Compliance ability. If this does not seem to be effective, it will use mass suggestion — as with all Caretakers, this is an automatic feature with no agency or verbalization on the part of the Caretaker. Targets are simply compelled to calm themselves, cease combat, and return to whichever room they’re supposed to occupy (the last may require some interpretation). If this fails, Caretaker Four will use forceful hand, hold monster, telekinesis, wall of force, and deep slumber to immobilize the PCs and relocate them itself. If pressed, it will resort to nonlethal unarmed strikes and its once-daily flesh to stone. (The target will be revived with stone to flesh once they have been relocated.) It is also capable of using the Bell of Material Repair to heal itself if the fight is going badly.

Room 3.3: f.43v

Lots of stuff on this page — I decided to expand this room to fill the entire space between the passages here to fit it all. However, since the passage originally leading to this room was a long curving quarter-circle corridor, that made things look a little odd… so I decided to finish the curve into a full half-circle and put the room inside that space. Which meant a first for this dungeon: a room that crosses page borders. So now it’s also poking into Week Eleven, but I feel less silly about putting lots of stuff in it.

This room is built with a strange hemispherical construction — the east wall is straight, but the ceiling, floor, and west wall form a sort of dome that reaches high above, and, presumably, far below. (If the PCs decide to check into this for some reason, the highest point of the “dome”, about 80ft off the ground, does in fact come pretty close to clipping into Room 2.3. You’d have to go through a few feet of stone, though.) In addition to pillars supporting the ceiling, there are several buttresses spaced along the wall. The northern half of the room is planted with several oak trees, and the southern half is an artificial pond with a stone walkway in a “T” shape over it. Said walkway can be used to reach a door further down the east wall, and is also not visible on this map because it’s on the Week Eleven one.

The oaks are, in fact, squirrel oaks, and there are a number of oak squirrels present. (I know that’s not really a squirrel or an oak leaf, but it’s the same kind of critter, so I’m just rolling it in.)

The pond is populated with hand geese, which are in every way identical to regular geese except they have a fully-functional human hand on the tops of their heads.

Atop one of the buttresses is a serpentine wyvern, which will attack as soon as it becomes aware of the PCs. This is a wyvern variant created within the College, less intelligent (holy crap, I forgot wyverns have Int 7) but more physically dangerous than a regular wyvern. This is a variety of creature that has become known to the world outside the dungeon, so a Knowledge (Nature) check can get information about it. It behaves in a slightly unusual way: it’s not just interested in eating the PCs. In fact, given the opportunity, it will eat only one and leave the others stung & paralyzed on the ground while it retreats back up onto the buttress.

This behavior is for the same reason that the serpentine wyvern is known outside of the dungeon: its reproductive habits. Its sting is not just a weapon; it can also be used to implant eggs in opponents of Small size or larger. (Smaller creatures aren’t big enough to provide the young with sufficient space & nourishment.) The poison in the sting that causes paralysis is technically separate, but the wyvern can use both in a single attack, prompting two separate saving throws. Given its druthers, the serpentine wyvern will paralyze its opponents, eat whichever one looks tastiest, ensure the rest have been implanted with eggs, and then retreat out of range. (Okay, if you have a good ranged weapon, you can still reach it; the highest part of the tallest buttress is only ~60ft off the ground.)

Once implanted with an egg, it’s difficult to get rid of without knowing exactly what’s going on and getting medical attention from an expert. (GM’s call whether this actually counts as a disease for the purpose of remove disease.) The egg takes up to a month to develop and hatch; once the month has elapsed, whether or not the host has survived, a young serpentine wyvern will emerge from the host’s body. (This can cause extra damage if you want to go the chestburster route.) If the host is dead or severely debilitated, the young wyvern will then feed on it.

Serpentine Wyvern: CR 7, XP 3200; N Large Dragon; Init +3; Senses Low-Light Vision, Scent, Darkvision 60ft; Perception +12

DEFENSE: AC 19, touch 8, flat-footed 19 (-1 size, -1 Dex, +11 natural); hp 104 (9d12+45); Saves Fort +11, Ref +5, Will +8; Immunities Paralysis, Sleep

OFFENSE: Speed 50 ft., fly 100 ft.; Melee sting +15 (1d8+7 plus paralysis, plus egg) , bite +10 (2d6+7 plus grab); Space 10 ft.; Reach 5 ft.; Special Attacks Swallow Whole (2d6+11, AC 15, 10 hp), Fast Swallow, Grab (bite), Paralysis (1d8 rounds, DC 19), Egg Implantation (Ex) (sting-injury save DC 21, onset 1d3 days, frequency 1 day, effect 1d3 Con damage, cure 4 consecutive saves)

STATISTICS: Str 24, Dex 8, Con 21, Int 4, Wis 10, Cha 10; Base Atk +9; CMB +17 (+21 grapple); CMD 26; Feats Ability Focus (Egg Implantation), Combat Reflexes, Flyby Attack, Improved Initiative, Iron Will; Skills Fly +13, Perception +12, Stealth +11; Special Qualities Dragon Traits

SPECIAL ABILITIES:

Egg Implantation (Ex): A Serpentine Wyvern can implant an egg in its opponents. Mechanically, this can be treated as a disease with a Fortitude save DC of 21, an onset of 1d3 days, a frequency of 1 day, causes 1d3 con damage, and takes three consecutive saves to cure.

Fast Swallow (Ex): A Serpentine Wyvern can use its ‘Swallow Whole' ability at any time it has an opponent grappled as a free action, instead of just at the beginning of its turn.

Grab (Ex): If a Serpentine Wyvern hits with its bite attack, it deals normal damage and attempts to start a grapple as a free action without provoking an attack of opportunity. Grab can only be used against targets of a size Large or smaller.

Paralyze (Ex): When a Serpentine Wyvern hits a target with its sting attack(s), the victim is rendered immobile for 1d8 rounds. The target is allowed a DC 19 fortitude save to negate the paralysis effect. Paralyzed creatures cannot move, speak, or take any physical actions. The creature is rooted to the spot, frozen and helpless.

Swallow Whole (Ex): If a Serpentine Wyvern has an opponent grappled in its mouth (see Grab), it can attempt a new combat maneuver check (as though attempting to pin the opponent). If it succeeds, it swallows its prey, and the opponent takes bite damage. Unless otherwise noted, the opponent can be up to one size category Smaller than the swallowing creature. Being swallowed causes a creature to take 2d6+11 bludgeoning damage each round. A swallowed creature keeps the grappled condition, while the creature that did the swallowing does not. A swallowed creature can try to cut its way free with any light slashing or piercing weapon (the amount of cutting damage required to get free is 10). A Serpentine Wyvern's stomach has 15 AC. If a swallowed creature cuts its way out, the Serpentine Wyvern cannot use “swallow whole” again until the damage is healed. If the swallowed creature escapes the grapple, success puts it back in the attacker?s mouth, where it may be bitten or swallowed again.

The serpentine wyvern prefers to use its Flyby Attack in combat rather than hanging around to let the PCs beat on it.

(A lot of the faces in this section of the manuscript just look really unhappy. Both the horse and the rider seem very worried about something off the edge of the page.) In the pond, one may find the skeletal remains of a horse and a human, previous victims of the serpentine wyvern. The human is Osamunda, a ranger who died exploring this dungeon some time ago. Her equipment is extremely battered and anything organic and non-magical has rotted, but the rest of her possessions can be found near her skeleton in the pond muck. These possessions include a Horn of Antagonism.

Room 3.4: f.44r

Speaking of unhappy faces, check out this Jesus. He is going through it, probably because the artist has decided to make him hold a realistic depiction of his own death.

Seriously, look at that face. Tell me that’s not the face of someone having some sort of existential trauma.

Anyway. This room contains a nest of thyrnit-worms in a pile of wrecked wooden furniture. (At least two, add more if your party is high-level enough that this is not a real threat.) These serpentine creatures have rabbit-like heads, a set of three tentacle-like tails they can use to grasp things, and a thorny hide. They are aggressive and dangerous; they attack by wrapping themselves around an opponent and gouging with the spikes that protrude from their hide. They can also bite, but it’s less effective.

Thyrnit-Worm: CR 4, XP 1200; N Small Animal; Init +2; Senses Low-Light Vision; Perception +0

DEFENSE: AC 17, touch 13, flat-footed 15 (+1 size, +2 Dex, +4 natural); hp 39 (6d8+12); Fort +7, Ref +7, Will +2

OFFENSE: Speed 20 ft., climb 20 ft.; Melee bite +9 (1d4+4); Special Attacks Constrict (1d6+4 plus Thorns), Thorns +9 (1d6+6)

STATISTICS: Str 18, Dex 14, Con 15, Int 2, Wis 10, Cha 10; Base Atk +4; CMB +7 (+11 grapple); CMD 19 (21 vs. grapple); Feats Ability Focus (Constrict), Greater Grapple, Improved Grapple; Skills Stealth +11; Special Qualities Animal Traits

SPECIAL ABILITIES

Constrict (Ex): A Thyrnit-Worm can crush an opponent, dealing 1d6+4 bludgeoning damage, when it makes a successful grapple check (in addition to any other effects caused by a successful check, including additional damage).

Thorns (Ex): When a Thyrnit-Worm uses its Constrict ability, it also gets to make an attack roll (+9, 1d6+6 damage) to gouge its opponent with its thorny hide. This does not impact the grapple otherwise.

Among the wreckage of furniture that comprises their nest, the PCs may also find the remnants of one of their past victims (not in great shape after being eaten by worms, but all the bones are technically present). Godelina was a wizard and her magical equipment remains mostly intact, as does a satchel of coins — though she was the type of person to ward her purse with explosive runes.

Boom. Week Nine done, only a few weeks late.

#dungeon23 #college of grotesque arts #d&d #dnd #dungeons and dragons #ttrpg #medieval art #medieval creatures #medieval #marginalia #illuminated manuscript #pathfinder

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nadettexsuess · 2 years

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Fuel Saving Tips And Some Basic Automotive Need To Knows

In my 20 years as an auto specialist I have seen a few things that can assist you with setting aside some cash, and be more secure out and about. The principal thing that you really want to do is check the pneumatic force in your tires. In my 20yrs as an expert, this is extremely critical to save fuel and increment wellbeing. I know that the vast majority of you feel that they are checked when your vehicle is serviced,don't be so certain. You can purchase a tire measure two or three bucks at any vehicle parts store, or even Wal-Mart and such stores. It is essentially as basic as eliminating the little cap on the valve stem (minimal dark elastic stem standing out of haggle) the open finish of the measure onto the valve stem. The measure will let you know how much pneumatic stress is in the tires. Assuming you search in your proprietors manual, or on certain vehicles it is on the entryway point of support, when you open the drivers entryway it will give you the right measure of gaseous tension that ought to be in your tires. On the off chance that your tires need air you can go to most corner stores or car washes and they will have coin worked units with checks on them. I realize that I am investing a ton of energy in tires, yet they are the most disregarded part on vehicles and can emphatically impact fuel mileage. So while you are actually taking a look at the air, take a gander at the track of the tires as far as possible across. In some cases the external edge of the tire(part you can see without inclining down and truly looking) will look fine, yet within edge will be bare. You ought to have the option to take a penny, stick it into the furrows in the tire (with Lincoln going in recklessly) and not have the option to see the highest point of Lincoln's head. On the off chance that you can see the highest point of his head you most likely need tires, and may require an arrangement (on the off chance that the wear isn't even across the track). The other thing you ought to do is turn your tires each 2 to 3 oil changes, this will decisively build the existence of the tires. The following most significant thing to check, taking everything into account is your air channel. It ought to be checked each time your vehicle is overhauled, don't be so certain of it. As a guideline your air channel ought to be changed each 30,000 miles, however at times it might require one sooner. Most air channels are effortlessly checked, yet at times you might require a technician to really look at it. In all honesty replacing your oil additionally influences your fuel mileage. Customary oil changes (with the right weight of oil 10w30,5w30, etc) are fundamental for the existence of your vehicle. Utilizing a heavier than proposed by producer oil will diminish your fuel mileage.

In the event that your vehicle has a "really take a look at motor" light on, this could enormously impact your fuel mileage. The "really take a look at motor" light is turned on by your cars PC when one of it's sensors managing the emanations framework is showing strange readings. A few of these sensors (like oxygen sensors and MAF sensors) can truly kill your fuel mileage. Some car parts stores, for example, Auto Zone will peruse these codes for you, and can provide you with a thought of what is making the light be on. This way you will have a smart thought of what's in store when you go to have it fixed in the event that you can't do it without anyone's help. At long last perhaps of my greatest annoyance, wiper cutting edges. In spite of the fact that they don't impact fuel mileage they are perhaps of the most affordable thing you can supplant on your car. Yet, individuals will ride around with them totally destroyed, and scratching their windshield. Damnation on the off chance that you get them from Auto Zone, they will try and introduce them for FREE. How these individuals don't wind up in car wrecks while it's coming down is a wonder.

#car oil change #best oil

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a-sweet-pea · 2 years

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Humans are Megafauna

A/N: Inspired by the likes of "Humans are Space Orcs" and "Humans are Space Fae", a little dabble into the world of scifi! I had vain hopes of elaborating on the italicized portions and writing them out properly, but I think it's been sitting in my drafts gathering dust long enough. Consider this a late xmas gift, with a repost of its beginning (which you might recognize as Untitled Exoplanet).

The Charys - Ship’s Log - Cycle 308

10.08.00 - Pulse Drive Failure

10.08.01 - Charys exits Hyperspace

Solar System Report -

Yellow Dwarf Star

13 Planets (9 solid, 4 gaseous)

11.35.87 - Charys enters Gravity Well of Exoplanet

Exoplanet Report

Tertiary in orbit of central star

87kf diameter - Molten Core, Solid Plate Surface

Atmosphere: 78% Nitrogen, 21% Oxygen, Trace Gases - NONTOXIC, HELMET USE RECOMMENDED FOR PARTICULATE FILTRATION

Liquid Water - Present

Carbon-Based Life - Present

14.12.76 - Charys enters Atmosphere of Exoplanet

14.13.09 - Charys reaches terminal velocity

14.13.67 - Charys reaches subsonic speed

14.13.71 - Air brakes deployed

Atmospheric Entry and Descent Report

Hull Ablation: Minimal

Aerodynamic Heating: Within acceptable range

Terminal Velocity: 1.3*

14.13.98 - Impact

Expedition Log

C.J - At 14.15.23, Charys has landed on the exoplanet, no major injuries sustained by crew.

Z - My thorax is sore.

W - She said major injuries.

C.J - Landing site experiencing heavy precipitation, but the Charys was able to navigate through open bay door of superstructure and onto raised platform.

Z - Let the record show that the Charys had help from an expert pilot.

O.T. Who is going to have their channel shut down if they don’t stop interrupting.

C.J - Sensors indicate the presence of plant matter containing fructose within 3f, in sufficient quantities to refill both fuel tanks and food stores. First officer, pilot, and engineer to remain onboard to assess damages, Captain will leave the ship to scout location of plant matter.

W - As the exobiologist, I feel I should accompany you, Captain.

C.J - No one else is to leave the ship.

W - Captain, we are on an exoplanet with a superstructure indicating the presence of intelligent-

C.J - No one else is to leave the ship until I have established that it is safe to do so. Then you are welcome to join me.

Z - Just Telerin?

C.J - Once I have established the safety of the environment, the entirety of the crew is welcome to explore the exoplanet surface, with the understanding that, should we at any point encounter the presence of alien life, it is the Captain’s responsibility to mitigate first contact.

Z - I can’t say hi?

C.J - In the event of first contact, Pilot Zephyr’s channel will be muted to prevent the embarassment of our species.

Z - Well now I don’t even want to leave the ship.

Jeeyah exits the ship wades, through brackish liquid, leaps across a gap to the polished metal wall and climbs up. She reaches a vast surface of polished stone and starts hiking toward the source of the plant matter and sugar readings from earlier; enormous alien fruits in a semi-spherical structure of woven reeds. When she is halfway between the edge of the metal pit where the ship landed and the mound of fruit, the ground begins to shake

O.T- Captain, you are in distress.

C.J - Do not leave the ship. Keep cloaking and communications on, shut off all unneccessary indicators.

Sensors indicate the approach of native megafauna. She begins to run for the nearest cover (towering objects she assumes are buildings that house the native intelligent life-forms) but before she can reach them, a glass cylinder is lowered on top of her, trapping her where she stands. The megafauna is bipedal, incalculably enormous, and it makes a series of noises that sound like more than just primitive grunts…

W - The vocalization is a language.

O.T - You think the megafauna is sentient?

W - Switch on the translator!

The suit power indicator glowed pale blue. Less than twenty-percent. If she survived this, Jeeyah was going to give Weylin’s carapace a good rattling for failing to hook up the suit to the charging station when she’d reminded them at least ten times. Shock-absorption, air filtering, thermal regulation, carapace rigidity, communication channel with the ship; all of these were draining the battery. The translator wasn’t usually much of a load when interfacing with an alien entity with which it was familiar, but to process an entirely new langauge, one composed of not just thought patterns but vocalizations as well?

C.J - I have to cut the other systems.

Jeeyah fumbled with the pressure pads on her forearm.

O.T - What systems?

The eyes in front of her were wide and unblinking.

C.J - Under no circumstances is anyone to leave the ship unless I give the all clear.

O.T - Captain!

The translator switched on with a buzz and a chime, while the indicators for shock-absorption, thermal regulation, and the ship’s communication channel blinked and shut off.

Jeeyah waits, but the megafauna doesn’t make any more sounds, it just stares and pulls out a large slab of metal with a display screen on it bigger than the whole dashboard of the spaceship (intelligent megafauna confirmed). She needs it to vocalize again to give the translator a baseline, why won’t it vocalize?!

It isn’t going to vocalize; it doesn’t know I’m intelligent.

Her hands shook as she pried a barbed piton from its housing against her leg. She punctured the emergency food ration strapped to her arm; the sweet green paste that oozed from the pouch made her feelers twitch, but she wasn’t the least bit hungry. She scraped it up and smeared it onto the glass wall in front of her. A series of dashes.

Any sufficiently advanced life form in the cosmos will recognize this numerical sequence.

l l ll lll lllll

Massive dark irises jumped back and forth.

Come on, come on.

The creature’s lips parted and it vocalized again, the quietest yet, but still well within the range of her suit mic. The translator’s amber indicator pulsed gently as it struggled to connect the audio to the active places in the alien’s brain and determine the intended concepts.

you - [an individual apart from the speaker]

Jeeyah’s feelers fluttered. Speech. It was intelligent, and it was addressing her.

are - [identity, quality]

not - [negation]

a - [single entity]

bug - - -

The translator struggled for an agonizing moment before spitting out its best approximation

[connotative term, biological entity native to the planet, class insecta or isopoda, small, insignificant, pest, lacking intellect or emotional capacity, ]

Insignificant. Her breath came quickly. Pest. A shadow fell over the circle of glass. A fleshy mass the size of the ship’s console perched atop the enclosure; jointed appendages sprouting from it, reaching down. If Jeeyah hadn’t known better, she would have thought it was a creature unto itself, but beyond it stretched a thick limb. It was merely another part of the megafauna, an enormous hand. Jeeyah crouched low as the glass wall rose up around her, lifted away with a mere fraction of the potential energy stored in the creature’s musculature. A minor application of pressure from one of the digits would be more than sufficient to crush her carapace. So why, having put the glass container aside, had it not done so?

Not. Negation.

Relief washed over Jeeyah like a sudden burst of radiation.

Not a bug.

“What-[inquiry] are you?”

Jeeyah lifted her head; the creature’s hand was moving toward her again and this time, there was no wall of glass between them. A friendly chime from her suit’s internals warned her that her hemolymph flow was unreasonably rapid. Not a bug, she thought, trying to stem the flow of adrenaline. It knows I am not a bug. The hand laid to rest on the stone surface, jointed digits uncurling like a fern opening in the sunlight. There were no more vocalizations, but the meaning of the gesture was clear. It wants me to step on. Jeeyah took a few steps backward, eyes focused on the creature’s face.

“It’s okay-[a neutral state of mind and body, a lack of (or capacity to manage) discomfort]”

“Don’t be scared-[anticipating danger, distress, potential negative outcome]”

Its mouth was stretched; pushing the flesh in its cheeks upward, narrowing its eyes. Is it focusing? Is it hampering its vision because it does not see me as a threat? Jeeyah had a fair amount of experience with mammals, but the trouble was that they all did different things with their faces to indicate different things. If it intended harm, Jeeyah reasoned, taking a step toward the living platform. It would have attacked. The megafauna was keeping still as Jeeyah approached, like Jeeyah herself did when catching aphids. Not a bug, Jeeyah replayed the thought in her head, and it strengthened her resolve. An explorer. An ambassador. A captain.

Jeeyah stepped onto the platform of flesh, feelers vibrating. If one of my crew did this, I’d recommend them for a psych evaluation. Maybe Jeeyah would write herself up when she got back to the ship, if she got back to the ship. Clearly, there was some dangerous flaw in her reasoning, to so willingly place herself in danger. The creature’s hand rose like the elevator on the Ysenia station (if someone had disabled the gravity cushioning), and Jeeyah was trapped again, in a prison she’d walked into.

“Can-[ability to perform task]

The creature’s vocalization drew her attention upward again.

You talk-[vocalize thoughts]”

No, Jeeyah thought. But my suit can. Jeeyah switched on the audio output. The audio input had never been switched off (in the event that she ran out of power to keep her body functioning on this hostile planet, the recording of their mission would still be worthy of preservation, either as a museum artifact or a cautionary tale for future explorers). She rewound the recording until she reached the appropriate words, clipped them, re-ordered them, and sent them to audio output, as many decibels as the suit could produce. I hope you have sensitive ears.

“CAN TALK.” The suit echoed the megafauna’s words back at it in a frail imitation of its powerful vocalization. First contact with an alien species, Jeeyah thought. No doubt she would look back on this moment as a great honor if she ever made it safely back to the ship. The creature’s pupils dilated and it’s mouth stretched, revealing two rows of omnivorous teeth. No, Jeeyah frantically scrolled back through the recording. Did I pick the wrong words? Did it not hear me? Did the translator-

Jeeyah’s thoughts were scattered by a sudden g-force. She fell to her hands and knees as the platform rose up at a dizzying speed, toward the creature’s face.

“CAN TALK, CAN TALK, NOT BUG.” She sent the few words she had screaming through the suit’s speakers. “NOT BUG.” When the movement stopped and Jeeyah had the strength to lift her head again, she was level, not with a gaping maw lined with crushing bone plates, but with the creature’s staring eyes.

“No, not a bug.” The voice coming from below her was quieter, the pitch higher, the inflection different. The translator added an extra layer of meaning to the repeated phrase.

[Comfort, safety, dismissal of threat]

“What’s your-[possession]

name-[vocalization indicating specified individual]?”

But Jeeyah had no vocalization for herself. How did you make a thought into a sound? She could think ‘Jeeyah’ at the creature for a dozen cycles and it wouldn’t make it through the skull; the creature’s body just wasn’t built for it.

“NO NAME.”

“No name?” It repeated, questioning. “What do I call-[address subject] you?”

Jeeyah sorted through the words of the creature’s lexicon that the translator had so far catalogued. NOT-BUG seemed like that only appropriate phrase, but she didn’t like the idea of the BUG word being in her name, even if it was preceded by negation.

“How about-[thought being processed]...”

Jeeyah looked up; the creature was looking back and forth across the superstructure, as if scanning for some piece of information.

“Jade-?”

swore she could feel the translator heating up with the effort of processing the vocalization.

[gemstone found in-shade of green-Jeeyah.]

The creature hadn’t said Jeeyah, it couldn’t, but it had thought it. Whatever else the word meant in the creature’s alien tongue, it wasn’t relevant. It’s a word for me. Her feelers thrummed. It made a word for me.

“NAME IS JADE.”

The creature’s mouth stretched wider, but somehow the show of teeth didn’t feel threatening.

“Nice-[positive] to meet-[primary encounter] you, Jade. I’m Sam-[self, name]”

“NICE MEET SAM.”

#one small step for bug #one giant leap for bug/giant-space-monkey relations #giant tiny #g/t #giant/tiny #g/t fluff #g/t writing #g/t fiction #asweetpea writing #asweetpeawriting #scifi #humans are megafauna

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