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amiaaa-official · 7 months

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MFPNP anon—

(cw// body horror, vivid descriptions of flesh and organs. VERY slight mentions of aphrodisiacs.)

the mystery flesh pit national park (mfpnp for short) was opened shortly after being discovered in the early 1980’s by a few miners. it was a fleshlike pit that seemed to have tissue the same as a human’s. it was first listed as a cheap tourist attraction a few miles out of Gumption, Texas. it even had a shitty mascot.

Somewhere in the 90’s it was officially recognized as a bona fide national park, and was given the extra two words to its already mouthful of a title. the popularity this eerie place garnered was terrifying. Many considered it a work of satan himself, while others considered it a superorganism—possibly not the only one of its kind. this place was insanely popular—the lower visitor center, a few miles deep into the gull of this pit, had everything (including but not limited to its own flavour of Coke, which i’ll talk a bit more about later, a Marriott hotel, and restaurants).

there was so much to do in this dark, slimy place. there were marked trails with so many organisms that couldn’t quite fit into the box of extraordinary for any reason apart from the fact that they even existed. one of the most famous, the Amorphous Shame, was a blob of tendons and organs that was believed to be a descendent of the modern ferret.

how could I talk about such an interesting place without mentioning the Amniotic Thermal Pools? These places, stretched-out pockets of fluid, were an iconic part of this weirdly fascinating location. the main pool was the only one with an aphrodisiac content low enough to be allowed public access, while all the others (of which i believe there were 7-9) were strictly 18+. The aphrodisiac in these pools was diluted and used in a special flavour of Coca-Cola—Coke Heartthrob.

there were many things that came out of the MFPNP that weren’t great, such as the infamous Circus Clown Chymus—the result of a disaster in which 50 circus clowns were partially digested by the pit (did i mention that was a risk? being disgested), and flash-calcified when park rangers tried to separate the gooey mass with an experimental antidote. the Circus Clown Chymus was a landmark as famous and as tragic as Mount Everests’ Green Boots.

unfortunately, in the hot Texas holiday of July 4th, 2007, disaster struck. This sticky, fleshy landscape’s (innuendo recognized) support beams, haphazardly stabbed into the walls excavated years before, were not nearly as strong as they should have been. But the true culprit of this fatal failure was a mixture of poor flood prevention systems and the park’s own flaw. The celebration for the Fourth of July was delayed, and as an apology to the tourists the park was kept open later.

this was a mistake.

a storm came in, specifically a relentless torrential downpour. the flooding system couldn’t handle all the water seeping in from the gaping hole of the opening. the pit, speculated to be the throat of whatever beast it was home to.. moved.

it convulsed violently, and in one swift yet massive movement, the lower visitor center and above elevator fell deeper, the support beams crushed and contorted. to play the side of the superorganism, imagine taking a long nap and waking up, water pouring down your throat, to find tiny ants have built a metal nest in your gull. you’d freak out, right?

that’s exactly what the pit did.

nearby Gumption residents were traumatized upon seeing a limb arise from the pit. it’s still unknown what that limb was—a leg? a wrist? a fingertip? either way, something had to happen. something had to stop this interdimensional being from emerging out of the ground and causing destruction of a legendary scale.

a failsafe, still confidential as to what it was, was used. the pit fell back asleep, but it was closed down after that. permanently.

Coke Heartthrob was soon discontinued as it was too difficult to mine the resource, and law firms promising monetary compensation for those injured in the MFPNP soon exploded with profit. The Mystery Flesh Pit National Park was no more, and to this day is surveilled dubiously for fear that the Accident of 2007 would resurge.

(written entirely by me. information from the mystery flesh pit national park website and a multitude of video essays. there’s a roblox game. it’s hella cool.)

Holy shit.

That's. I'm gonna look more into this holy fuck

#amiarambles #tw body horror

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corvidcryomania · 1 year

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(SFW)

Thresh x Jhin (Gore warning)

When he felt the Warden's hand clasp his thigh, he crossed his legs as to squeeze the hand in-between. When his indication failed and the wraith instead set it upon the leg now on top, he sent a glare at the other. "What?" He managed to utter under his breath without a heavy tone. He was inches away from hissing.

Thresh sneered, before finally retracting his hand away from the virtuoso. He made his way to the other edge of the booth they shared in the bar, creating a distance between them. "Fine," he muttered, "have your space."

Jhin grunted under his breath. "No," he whispered, "you don't have to..."

Thresh turned to face him. "Have to what?"

Jhin did not finish his thought.

It wasn't clear what Jhin's sudden uncomfortabilitly stemmed from. He was fine a minute ago, and it was almost impossible to keep him off of Thresh. Now, he suddenly wanted to keep away from his partner, even so much as to lean his body away from the warden.

Confused, Thresh quietly reached for Jhin's hand, which rested on the seats. He was able to carefully obtain it, Jhin letting him lift it off of the chair to hold.

He suddenly retracted, though, when a waiter passed them by.

Thresh raised an eyebrow.

With Jhin unmasked and Thresh in his human disguise, there wasn't very much attention drawn to the two men. Sure, some eyes lingered for a moment, but it had little to do with recognition. It's common at a bar, or for any social setting in that matter, for people to glance around.

"You know," Thresh whispered under his breath, "if you keep this up, everyone's going to think I'm assaulting you."

"What if you are?"

Thresh rolled his eyes. "You would've kicked me or worse if I really was."

Jhin glanced to meet the warden's gaze, before disengaging. "It's not you," he muttered. "I'm simply not fond of any public displays of affection."

"You seemed to be a minute ago."

"Yes, before I realized the setting I'm in. Call me dramatic but it's simply just not a favorable situation."

"Do you want to leave, then?"

Jhin shook his head. "No. There's not much else to go."

Thresh huffed, leaning back into the leather of the booth. "This was supposed to be a date night, though. You plan to mope the entire time?"

"Unless something changes."

The two men made eye contact with each other, for a moment with blank stares. But soon smirks creeped on both of their faces.

"Would you do me a favor, love?" Jhin purred.

"Absolutely."

Within moments, Thresh was on his feet and headed towards the center of the bar. His sudden movement had all eyes on him before he even let out a guttural screech, and shed his fleshlike persona. Patrons screamed as they instantly recognized the legendary decayed skull lying underneath, and the faint green light that emitted from underneath.

Many tried to flee, but Thresh has played this game for centuries.

Jhin watched in amusement as Thresh threw about his chains, wrapping around victims and drawing them towards him. He cycled between tearing into their chests, violently, with his scythe, and throwing them hard against the walls and impaling them on any sharp decor he could find. Blood was splattered all across the bar, with Jhin even flinching as some of it shot towards his way.

It wasn't long until Thresh was tearing into his final target, the bartender, hovering his lantern over the corpse and letting the last soul feed its light. He then straightened his posture, turning to Jhin.

"Better?"

Jhin smirked, watching Thresh trail back to him and sit by him. He leaned into his side, the wraith happy to wrap his arm around him as he wiped the blood off his teeth.

"Much."

#jhin #thresh #league of legends #jhinthresh #khada jhin #thresh league of legends #jhin league of legends #ship #quick write #deathfire #cw gore #cryomaniaworks

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lobotomy-maybe-bestie · 2 years

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ali 💐💐💐💐

OHOHOHO okay!!

the easy answer would be. bouquet of mushrooms. done. but let's do actual... flowers.

first, the centerpiece, the main attraction, the flower it all revolves around

this is a rafflesia, known for being bigger than your torso and reeking of a scent like rotten flesh. it has no stem so making a bouquet with it would be tricky. maybe glue a stick to it or smth? it's debatable if this flower is even a flower, and it's parasitic so that's already perfect for ali. rafflesias apparently symbolise death, which is unsurprising but very fitting, and trickery? that works too ig. they usually look more red and fleshlike according to photos, but i liked this darker red-brown tint more for ali.

the secondary flowers would be

sunflowers!! specifically darker, wrinkled and almost dead ones. these would probably have to be smaller than your average sunflower, but the rafflesia already blows the bouquet out of proportion so who cares. they symbolise faithfulness, worship, adoration and loyalty, in this case to ali's god of death and decay, which is why they are wilting.

the last of the main flowers are these lovely ones

spider lillies! they are also usually more red, but i like the subdued ones better. i didn't find a good image of wilting spider lillies, but imagine this one a little less healthy. they symbolise death and reincarnation.

then we got filler, which contains no flowers in this case but does have

persian grass, white glitter, and dusty miller leaves. especially the persian grass should be less vibrant than in the picture. these symbolise nothing, but the white glitter looks a little harsh and unfriendly and the dusty miller leaves look like ghost leaves. the persian grass is really just here for giving a tinge of farmlife aesthetic.

#congrats! bouquet of rapidly dying plants that stinks like rotting flesh!!#ali my beloved #thank you neil i love you <33

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greyscalew49 · 15 days

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Okay? Time to ramble insanely about the horrors growing in my brain while the pain (very much real unlike the brain horrors) grows to a new crescendo!

Allow me to set the stage, please? We'll be talking through the design of what I call the Void. In the space between realities and insanity, in the space between matter, is the Void.

But what is the Void? Hardly absent, that's certain. The primary "biome" of the Void is, as far as any testing could demonstrate, an endless blackish plain, consisting of a near black fluid, similar in makeup to blood, called the Hollow. The stagnant liquid goes about a meter down before it seems to give way to solid ground. But the ground is merely the same fluid, congealed enough to support weight. And deeper down it merely continues to harden til it becomes nigh indestructible. Intermittently there are shards of dark crystal growing from the sea, the fluid dripping upwards like water dripping down a stalctite. The only other things to be seen out in the Hollow are translucent humanoids, their hands held up to their faces as though crying. They seem to dislike being looked in the face, and will attempt to kill anyone that does. Occasionally, these apparitions fade our of existence, at which point a crystal bursts from the ground where they ceased to exist. To explain the other places the Void holds, we'll need to cover how it operates.

In the in-between it lies in wait, until the inevitable end of the world, at which point it consumes what was, leaving space for something new to take its place. But what happens to the world that ended is a horror to behold. It starts with a falling and a shattering. The world breaks apart by unknown means, its chunks falling thousands of kilometers haphazardly down into the endless dark sea of the Hollow. (There is no consistency about how gravity works in the Void, as it drags fragments of worlds down into it with incredible speed, yet doesn't immediately crush any life that ends up inside it). The planetary shrapnel will sink into the Hollow, creating massive islands in the dark sea. Despite falling in such a manner, most of what's found atop a newly fallen world will be mostly intact, and creatures on the planet's surface seem to behave as though they were subject merely to a moderately sized earthquake. Things begin getting worse from there, as the lack of sunlight will cause most plant life to die. From there, everything else follows suit. It would theoretically be possible to survive past that, but only if you had a stockpile of non-perishable food and water. But the worst has yet to begin.

After most life on the planet's surface dies, something fascinating begins to happen. Rotting corpses re-animate, slowly moving towards one another, before falling onto one another in grotesque piles. They rot together, slowly changing color to a sickly teal. Once the mass loses any semblance of what it was, it begins to animate once more, spreading tendrils over the fragment, off the edges and down into the dark depths of the sea, growing even into the hardest layers, tethering the land mass to the Void. From there, the fleshlike material will slowly spread over the terrain, consuming the matter and transforming it into more of itself. This process takes an unknowable amount of time, and is only known of due to the existence of fully transformed chunks. Interspersed in the flesh will be bones, often ending in sharpened points; these often serve as something for additional flesh to grow off of, creating structure of its own. Once enough of the matter has been changed, plantlike growths will begin to emerge.

There are many specific "plants" but the three categories are as follows: seeing "plants," violent "plants," and "trees." Seeing "plants" refers to any "plant" that feature yellow orb-like growths, which testing indicates function as eyes. "Trees" are any "plant" that feature a large bone stalk with meaty growth upon it. Violent "plants" are the largest subset, as it contains any "plant" that functions as a way to cause harm to anything not of the Void. Given enough time, some plants will separate from the ground, becoming one of the many creatures of the Void.

Alas, we are out of time, as I'm beginning to lose consciousness to the sleep deprivation brought on by being in near constant pain. Whenever I remember to, I'll continue this, getting into the general state of creatures, beginning to go over the specific plants, etc. etc.

#graceless rambling #the hungering void

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a-land-of-shadow-and-substance · 2 years

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Fun with AI Generated... Museums of the Weird!

The first reader-submitted idea for the “Fun with AI generated images” series I’m making while I can’t do full posts!

Museum of the Weird was never made, but the concept is ripe for all kinds of fun! Perhaps the AI art generator can visualize what could have been?

Well, uh, the AI sure created *something*, and I’m curious what you all think of it.

Note: All were generated using the prompt “Museum of the Weird”, and I listed the filter in the title at the top of the image.

Hmmm... Okay, I must say that I like the raven in the foreground, and the fact that a giant eldrich abomination cat takes up the entire second floor. It’s weird, and it might be a museum? Not quite what I was expecting from the prompt, but let’s keep going...

I get Interstellar or Star Trek vibes from the architecture here, but the piles upon piles of books seem pretty mundane for something called Museum of the WEIRD.

That’s a perfectly pleasant museum at Christmastime! Come on, where’s the weird!?

This is just a museum through a fish eye lens. I thought this prompt was the ripest for fun, but it’s turning out surprisingly bland!

Now we have the opposite problem, this is weird, but not a museum!

Pastel is quickly becoming my least favorite filter; everything is either a cliff dwelling or uncomfortably fleshlike in texture (or both). I do NOT like that the upper level is apparently floating on a pile of intestines. Also while the image is weird, I’m not sure if it’s a museum? Maybe the building on the intestines is the museum part.

Ah, this is a little more on track! This looks like it could be a courtyard or entryway into a museum. I like the giant alien cat sitting on the top balcony. Wait, is that the SECOND alien cat that’s appeared in this series? Wonder why that happened.

Not sure if this is a museum OR weird, but it does look like a pleasantly steampunk themed shop. Like, this could be a concept art for a gift store in a new land.

You know what? I kinda like this one. This is like if they decided to set the Museum of the Weird in Tomorrowland and adapted the exterior architecture accordingly. Not what I was expecting, but a respectable rendition.

Huh... I guess having a giant flesh creature protruding out the top of the building is pretty weird, and the building does look like a museum?

Another pretty good one, although maybe it’s just because the bright colors are what I associate with Museum of the Weird official artwork. This seems to be an interactive children’s museum, overseen by the benevolent eyeball creature above. Not bad.

[Incoherent screaming] WHY IS IT ALL FLESH!?!?! [Incoherent screaming] [The souls of the damned stuck in the museum scream back]

So, in summary: This was not what I was expecting. I thought that the known Museum of the Weird artwork would give the AI some kind of starting point, but I don’t see its influence at all. Also, each filter seemed to have a very different take on “museum” and “weird”, and how to combine those. No really impressive standouts among the art for me, as pleasant as I found the Synthwave one. In fact, I found them all rather boring... except for No Filter, which has probably found a permanent residence in my nightmares. Sweet dreams, everyone else who has now been subjected to it. Sweet dreams...

#museum of the weird #just for fun #AI generated art #AI art takes on Disney Rides #original post #wombo AI

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tadpal · 3 years

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Look at the mushrooms I found today!!

:o !!!! i love them!! they're very cool looking kind of fleshlike?? like when they grow skin in a lab? idk kind of like this log is growing a person but also that person is made of bubblegum, just all round very neat!!

#the mushroom at the top of the photo look like they've been seasoned 🥰#thank you!!#crow #ask tad #cw flesh mention

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redactedweasel · 3 years

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Show-Off

CW: Violence, Skinning imagery, saliva, mild body horror, fear-induced urine.

Generally, Keet simply doesn't much care about the other humans around him. They're no longer fair game, and so he ignores and avoids them in favor of Purple and Black. To him, they're often all the same - some are louder, some are lazier, some are kinder - but these differences seem subtle and pointless to Keet. He doesn't care, doesn't know much about them beyond their colors, and he has no intention of changing that.

So when Tan arrives, and Keet finds his hackles quickly ruffled by the human, he's surprised. There is something in the way the man holds himself - too big, too loud - that rubs Keet the wrong way. It's not long before his instincts are proven right, either - the crew's first meal with the newcomer prove that Tan is a braggart. Full of himself.

He is quick to tell the story of his last placement - claims that he and he alone caught out a deadly Impostor who'd already killed much of his crew. It takes all of Keet's willpower, and no gentle bite at the inside of his own mouth, not to make a number of snide comments. He feels Black's eyes on him as he stabs into the meat on his plate with unnecessary force - and Keet uses that as an opening to rant to his partners once they are alone.

Black is dismissive, unbothered by Tan entirely - Purple seems a bit aggravated by the man as well, but shrugs and suggests the best thing to do is just ignore him. To Keet, these answers are entirely dissatisfactory - but he knows his options are limited, these days, and so he lets the subject go and decides to try.

And he does try. Mealtimes are nearly insufferable, but he mostly manages to keep his comments to himself and ignore Tan. He distracts himself with food and conversations with his partners, does all he can to pretend that Tan doesn't even exist.

Then one day Tan finds Keet in the middle of a brief struggle with the tablet they use for data transfers. Keet ignores him, at first, but when the human leans over Keet's shoulder, command in his voice as he reaches for the tablet, Keet is blindsided by the urge to sink teeth into the man's throat. Human incisors sharpen into Impostor fangs at the very thought, and Keet has to press his jaw together painfully tight to keep himself from attacking.

"Fuck off," Keet grumbles instead as he extracts himself from the human. Tan's response - some complaint about Keet's tone - falls on deaf ears as Keet puts all his effort into walking away with some semblance of calm. He barely manages to get to his room - and once there tears into his mattress with pent-up fury.

Decides, once the worst of it has passed and he sits panting on the edge of his bed, that enough is enough. He can't kill Tan - he keeps that thought firmly in mind - but that doesn't mean he's powerless.

He is an Impostor. A shape-shifter. And, he decides, the perfect person to knock Tan down a few notches.

Tan almost makes it too easy. He is early to rise, and late to bed - in fact, Keet realizes after a few evenings of observation, always the last to bed outside of himself. So Keet waits for the perfect opportunity, and finds it in an evening where Tan works alone in Communications.

It's an easy matter to disconnect a wire and cut the lights to the room. Tan, it seems, hardly even notices - as by the time Keet slips into the Communications ceiling, Tan is hard at work with a flashlight in hand. Keet watches the human for a few minutes until, with a spike of anticipation, Keet slips free of the vent.

He has shed his suit entirely, and his form is unraveled, bulbous and amoebic - closer to the mass of tissue he considers his true form. He has made his skin pale, fleshlike - and if they weren't aware that he was the only Impostor of his species onboard, he doubts even Black or Purple could tie this form back to 'Lime.'

Keet drapes himself from the ceiling - clings to the pipes with a couple of tentacles and slowly lowers the bulk of his mass closer to the ground. Still other tendrils spill out from his body, twitch and writhe as they hang free and grasp at empty air. Keet's eyes sharpen on Tan's form, only feet away, and he listens eagerly as he lets one tentacle flop against the floor.

Tan freezes, there's a brief jump in his pulse, and then he is quick to turn. As the flashlight illuminates him, Keet parts his abdominal mouth - he can practically feel the way thick saliva dangles between his teeth, hears some plop onto the floor below. He undulates his form, lets tentacles shift to claws and back again, blinks at Tan with multiple eyes that appear as fast as they vanish. All the while Tan stares, his own eyes growing almost impossibly wide, and the air fills with the bitter scent of fear and sweat.

Keet hums, then babbles nonsense in his native tongue. He lets the words echo in his throat, grumble in his gut - hears the way they come out two-toned and distorted. Tan's pulse spikes further, and finally he begins to move. His muscles tense, one foot slides back along the ground, and he is sure to run at any second.

So Keet lashes out - Tan screams as tentacles fly towards him, but the sound is quickly cut off by the tendril that wraps tight around his mouth. With a few others around his waist and legs, Keet lifts the human from the ground and pulls him closer to Keet's widening maw. Tan struggles and drops his flashlight as he beats and claws uselessly at the tentacles holding him. Keet tightens his hold, and brings Tan close enough that he can see the way his breath ruffles the humans hair.

Keet growls, the rumble enough to vibrate every inch of his body, and Tan freezes again. His heart flutters, stammers - and when Keet stretches his mouth open near wide enough to swallow the human whole, the acrid scent of urine all but floods the air.

Keet snaps his jaws closed - so close to Tan that Keet can feel the way his teeth nearly brush against the man's skin. Tan screeches, then, the sound only barely muffled by the tendril around his face. He screams as if he had been bitten - thrashes as if his life depends on it. Fights and cries and Keet's own pulse is thrumming now, practically singing as he watches.

He could kill Tan, he realizes, he could do it right now. Probably, he could even afford to go slow. He could nibble off an arm as the man screeches and begs - or nip and pull at Tan's skin until it comes off in long, bleeding threads. Keet could eat and indulge, bit by bit, the meal seasoned with the human's terror and pain and blood -

The very thought has drool pooling so thick in his maw that it is a veritable waterfall as it slips free. He tightens his hold further, hears and feels something in the man's face crack. It'd be easy. So easy. He has the time. He has the power.

He comes close - stretches his teeth towards an arm, holds on tight as he pulls the human a little closer still. He can hardly tell Tan's heartbeat from his own - need and want rise up burning hot within him -

And then, he thinks of Purple. Fable. What they would think, what they would say. They would be disappointed. Angry.

They might even be afraid.

None of which Keet wants to imagine, but it is the last point that finally makes him let go of Tan. The man drops heavy to the floor, but is quick to scramble to his hands and knees as he turns and flees. He screams, calls the warning - and Keet watches him go, something unpleasant and unhappy turning in his gut. He'd done what he set out to do - he'd put the arrogant human into his place with a lesson he doubted Tan would soon forget. Reminded himself, and the universe, that he is dangerous. Deadly. An Impostor to be feared. He should be pleased. He's sure he will be, later.

For the moment, though, he grumbles softly to himself in dissatisfaction, and then turns. His form shifts and narrows as he slips back up into the vent - the others will be waking soon, and Keet wants to be sure he's standing with them.

The thought of it manages to lift his spirits, just a little. After all, it's been quite some time since he's had to play this particular game - and watching Tan babble, covered in his own urine as he desperately tries to convince the rest of the crew of what he'd seen…well. Keet is pretty sure that, at least, will be very satisfying

#Pyro writes #Keet #Not entirely sure where I want to put this but I'll add it to AO3 later/when I decide #Alternate title is Pyro Bullies Hazel More #Just adding a little side note to one of the cws ahahah...

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ironclark · 5 years

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Keyblade Anime Set 2!

ORCBLOG-

A Keyblade modeled after the titular character from Goblin Slayer! This Keyblade is designed to have an average reach and damage, but deals double damage to non-emblem Heartless! The entirety of the Keyblade is designed after the armor of the Goblin Slayer. The guard is designed after the Slayer's helmet with the center piece missing in place for the handle. The shaft of the blade is further made from Slayer's armor, with the face guard and his iconic eye showing. The teeth of the blade is the heavily damaged, but very used buckler shield! The Keychain is the red plume of Goblin Slayer, with the Token being the Silver Adventurer Tag.

The World Logo is "The Land of Goblins," taking inspiration from The Land of Dragons. Taking the font from the Anime's logo, with the Goblin Slayer and many goblin heads behind him. The name is a reference to the Elvish name for the Goblin Slayer.

PSUEDOPOD-

A Keyblade modeled after the slime form of Rimuru from That Time I Got Reincarnated into a Slime! This Keyblade is designed to make the most out of the Blizzard and Water spells! The hilt guard, shaft and teeth of the blade are all designed after the malleable slime body of Rimuru. The cross guard has the Demon Mask that Rimuru inherited, along with the Starwolf fur. The handle and Keychain are designed after Rimuru's katana, with the pommel being inspired by Rimuru's boots. The Token is Rimuru's iconic slime form!

The World Logo is Tempest, the nation of monsters that Rimuru established. The design is based on the manga's title design, with the chapter number's drip design. The name comes from Pseudopodia, the term for the arm-like extensions of single cell membranes.

TRAGIC HERO-

A Keyblade modeled after the evolving Kagune used by Ken Kaneki from Tokyo Ghoul! This Keyblade is designed to have leach life, and heals you as you attack! The hilt guard is designed after the iconic mask that Kaneki wears. The crossguard is designed after the Kakuja Centipede mask that Kaneki forms after he finally awakens to his Ghoul side. The shaft of the Keyblade is designed after the Centipede Kakuja as it forms into the Dragon Kakuja for the teeth. The token is a coffee mug, inspired by Anteiku. The World Logo is Tokyo, but with the font being that of the Manga font, with the Centipede kakuja forming in the background. The name comes from Kaneki's last line in the first chapter, referring to his events as a "Tragedy".

DEVIL'S ADVOCATE-

A Keyblade modeled after Akira Fudo, the titular DEVILMAN! This Keyblade is designed to maximize damage and Fire skills! The hilt of the blade is designed after Devilman's head, with an upside down pentagram being the opening for the handle. The shaft of the blade combines forms of Devilman and Amon's different appearances, with some showing him to have more of an exoskeleton and others being more fleshlike. The teeth are designed after the bright red wings of Devilman in the original Anime. The Keychain is Devilman's tail, and the token being his belt icon from the original anime.

The World logo is Devil World, a world filled with Devils! The design is a reference to the original manga's title, with elements from Devilman Crybaby's logo. The name comes from the term meaning to argue from another point of view that is not your own. This is a reference to Akira using a devil's powers to fight other devils!

ESCUTCHEON-

A Keyblade design after the Legendary Shield from The Rising of the Shield Hero! This Keyblade is designed to maximize defense and allows you to use Barrier spells! The cross guard is based on Naofumi's breastplate, with his green cloak forming one of the hilt guards. The other hilt guard is designed after Filo's wing and hair pin. The shaft of the blade is designed after the Chimera Shield that Naofumi often uses, with the Rage Shield hiding. The Teeth of the blade are the Air Strike Shield, a powerful spell that Naofumi uses. The Key Chain is formed from the green orb that is in the center of the Legendary Shield, with the Token being the weak Balloon monsters.

The World Logo is Melromarc, the main city in which Season 1 takes place. The font is inspired by the manga's logo, with the Legendary Shield forming the "O" behind it, covering Melromarc. The name is the Shield that appears for royal family coat of arms.

ACTUATOR -

A Keyblade designed after the looks of the 00 Cyborgs from Cyborg 009! This Keyblade is designed to have maximized speed and increaded Thunder spells! The overall design of the Keyblade is a bit more abstract, with the design coming from the uniforms work by the 00 Cyborgs, with most of the inspiration coming from the design in Cyborg 009 Vs. Devilman. The Teeth of the blade is designed after the iconic blaster that all of the Cyborgs wield. They keychain is the iconic scarf, with the token being the Dolphin charm from Cyborg 009: The Cyborg Solider.

The World Logo is the Dolphin, the ship that the Cyborgs call home. The font design is based on different interpretations of the logos, and the Dolphin's design comes from The Cyborg Soldier series. The name, Actuator, comes from a machine component that helps a robot move, much like the Accelerator.

#Keyblades #kingdom hearts #Crossover #Goblin Slayer #Slime Anime #Tokyo Ghoul #Devilman #Shield Hero #Cyborg 009 #Anime #Adventure #Isekai #Horror #Classic Anime

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dragon-turtle-bay · 4 years

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Eight romantic fantasy character creation tables

For Knave and other fantasy RPGs.

Body

Elven (she/her or they/them)

1. Curvy 2. Graceful 3. Willowy 4. Delicate 5. Supple

Halfkin (any pronouns)

6. Stout 7. Slight 8. Nimble 9. Chubby 10. Plump

Stoneborn (he/him)

11. Stocky 12. Broad 13. Round 14. Sturdy 15. Cut

Orkish (any pronouns)

16. Thick 17. Meaty 18. Tight 19. Buff 20. Towering

Eyes

Valiant

Quiet

Cheerful

Sneaky

Cunning

Trusting

Calm

Piercing

Steadfast

Warm

Wise

Old

Young

Tired

Wide

Wild

Clouded

Starry

Restless

Grim

Hands

Calloused

Manicured

Steely

Flexible

Scarred

Burned

Strong

Wrinkled

Worn

Fast

Clumsy

Soft

Steady

Firm

Tender

Fidgeting

Gnarled

Stained

Uncertain

Cautious

Raiment

Elegant

Flowing

Patched

Practical

Colourful

Layered

Diaphanous

Lacy

Eccentric

Glamorous

Elaborate

Ceremonial

Revealing

Vivid

Dark

Regal

Floral

Shrouding

Comfortable

Pale

Value

Bravery

Kindness

Patience

Loyalty

Humility

Honesty

Prudence

Curiosity

Mercy

Justice

Celebration

Protection

Restraint

Reverence

Hope

Trust

Perseverance

Adaptability

Kinship

Care

Comfort

Food

Dance

Music

Story

Touch

Company

Art

The water

Play

Sleep

Silence

Sport

Rain

Trees

Animals

Flowers

Solitude

Ritual

Sun

Daydreams

Voice

Dulcet

Melodious

Bold

Sultry

Insistent

Even

Bright

Lively

Bubbly

Shaky

Measured

Mellow

Grave

Stormy

Clear

Timid

Sonorous

Somber

Velvety

Full

Trade

Merchant

Librarian

Scholar

Courier

Farmer

Hunter

Healer

Artisan

Cook

Mason

Tailor

Gardener

Performer

Artist

Courtier

Mancer

Scribe

Smith

Fisher

Navigator

What makes these tables romantic fantasy?

I don’t want to conflate romantic fantasy with lightheartedness or levity —there’s room for romantic fantasy to be grim, dreary, gritty or dark, I think. But often OSR games and fantasy RPGs in general focus on a very specific dungeonpunk aesthetic: one I wanted to challenge with these tables. Knave’s default tables push towards that aesthetic, especially with the vice and misfortune tables, so I replaced vices with comforts and got rid of misfortune entirely (at least for now). I wanted to hint at a word where things are, generally, good; where people are kind and life is beautiful; I want characters who feel more like young adult fantasy and romantic fantasy protagonists who are hopeful and colourful. I think, without new equipment tables, these character options will still end up having tinges of dungeonpunk (they’re a little agnostic that way), but this is just a first step towards my Knave hack. I hope these are useful or inspiring! If you end up implementing in your game, I’d love to know :)

Elven, halfkin, stoneborn and orkish people

I’m not too, too happy with the way these are only expressed in terms of characters’ bodies. These four peoples are physiologically distinct, but these differences are more like “some of them are made out of stone!” and not “elven people can never be buff” or “all orkish people are tall.” Ultimately it’s important to me that fantasy “race” be less essentialized and tied to racist notions of physique and physiology, so I’ve already decided that I’m not going to use those peoples for the game this will eventually become. I’ve found a new home for them, but I decided to include them for now since these random tables will end up looking a bit different when they’re finished, and the four groups inspired the choices of the first one.

So, what do they mean?

Elven people are photosynthetic. They have pointy ears and skin the colour of algae, including yellowish-brown, orange, red and brown, but mostly green. This is due to symbiotic algae living in their skin that provide them with most of their energy. All elven people are potentially able to bear children as well as make other elven people pregnant, though not all are able to in practice or choose to do so. Elven people also have empathic connections with plants, algae and even other animals with symbiotic relationships to algae (rare as they are) —descriptions of this connection range from some saying they “commune” with plants, to others describing it as “talking,” to others characterizing it as more of an intuitive, subconscious connection, like the connection a seabird has to an ocean breeze.

Halfkin people are so called not because they are about the half the size of the three other peoples, but because they have features similar to those of some mammals like bears, tigers, foxes, cats, wolves and even mice, making them appear sometimes as though they were half-animal, half-beast. They have ears resembling those of animals, fuzzy, furry, animal-like lower legs, paws for feet, and tails. The resemblance is mostly physical, and there is no direct phylogenetic relationship to these animals. Ancestral families of halfkin people all share similar animal traits, and these families are often named after the animal they resemble.

Stoneborn people are born from stone and earth. Their bodies appear mostly fleshlike, and can even be fairly soft and comfortable to the touch, but instead of bleeding they crack like ancient statues. Stoneborn children are not born; they are crafted. At some point in his life, a stoneborn person might return to the mountains and caves where he was built, deep to ancient, magical forges near the core of the earth, and there they begin to mould a child out of molten earth, stone and metal, with a gem heart. Stoneborn children are so malleable at birth that they could almost pass, to us on Earth, as human babies with chubby bodies and soft skin (if not for the stone-grey colour) and they become more stonelike as they age.

Orkish people are the “human stand-in” trope of these four, with the outward perception sometimes being that they’re more diverse and varied than the other three. But that’s not exactly true. That’s a hard thing to measure, and these four groups aren’t segregated or separated by culture or geography. “Orkish” is a heritage and a clade, not a culture; there are many cultures all over built up of many different kinds of peoples, and these four peoples do not each belong to one homogeneous culture. But, to us on earth, orkish people would be the most similar. Sure, they have big tusks, but other than that, they’re as close to “default” as you could get —they don’t have algae in their skin or are half-animal or are made of stone. Where the other three veer towards alien, orkish people are familiar.

#ttrpg #osr #fantasy #knave #oc

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inacciaio · 5 years

Text

RED DIAMOND VERSE // SU MOVIE AU

A red diamond is a diamond which displays red color and exhibits the same mineral properties as colorless diamonds. Red diamonds are commonly known as the most expensive and the rarest diamond color in the world, even more so than pink diamonds.

In this verse, because of being so close to the injector when it exploded near the end of the film, Stevie’s organic half was killed. The only thing that survived the blast was her gem, a pink diamond now darkened to the color red by her blood. Stevie’s blood soaks into the Earth, healing it of the damage caused by Spinel’s injector, but she remains poofed. It isn’t until a day later that Stevie reforms, no longer appearing like herself and she newly insists that Stevie is dead. In her place is, as she refers to herself, Red Diamond. She still has a human appearance, having red hair and blue eyes that occasionally glow red to match, and she appears older (though only by appearance. emotionally she is still a teenager. Her emotions brought her to look older during the reformation process; older and stronger, tired of being treated like a child.) However, her skin appears as pale as someone lacking blood or veins, someone dead or undead, and it is no longer fleshlike, but hard and unbreakable as diamond. She also newly shares the height of Pink Diamond (however tall that is, is it confirmed by canon? who knows). The only remaining organic part of her is the last of her organic form’s blood infused into her gem.

Red is full of rage, cruelty, and is unforgiving of everything that happened. A part of her is still Stevie; her memories, her emotions, her age, and somewhere deep down she still cares about her family and friends. But at first reformation, her only thought is to bring suffering to those who have caused suffering. She claims to be Stevie’s retribution and retaliation.

IMPORTANT INFO: This verse is NOT made for shipping purposes, no shipping will occur with Red Diamond. In reality and emotionally, she is still a teenage girl; the only purpose of her looking older is to appear stronger.

Also, a warning: this will be a very mature 18+ verse. Not in terms of anything smut related obviously, but definitely in terms of angst, violence, swearing, etc. If any of that makes you uncomfortable, feel free to blacklist the tag: “{ reformed vengeance } v; red diamond” Red is unforgiving and brutal, who sees herself as a reckoning to those who have ever caused harm to Stevie or anyone else she’s cared about.

#{ reformed vengeance } v; red diamond #red diamond

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jechtscos-blog · 6 years

Video

Ignore the placeholder wig, blindfold, and lack of any makeup at all, but here's the Deathlord Illidan prosthetic straight out of the mold! It fits suuuuper well, and I'm excited to try it with actual adhesive on, etc. I followed the "gel" method if an outer and inner layer of normal Dragonskin silicone, with a "filling" layer of Dragonskin with Slacker added. Fleshlike to the press and very flexible!

#Cosplay #Cosplay wip #Video games #Video game cosplay #Warcraft #Warcraft cosplay #Blizzard #Blizzard cosplay #Illidan #Illidan cosplay #Sculpting #Prosthetics #SmoothOn

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wylercoyote-blog · 6 years

Text

5:00 am, what a joke. A yawn escaped him as he shuffled blearily towards his kitchen and, more importantly, the elixir of life held within. Coffee. The only thing in all of creation that could make waking up this early bearable. So much for finely tuned internal clocks, what moron had set his to the ass crack of dawn he'd never know, and in fact if he had the distinct honour of ever meeting said deity he had a few choice expressions of...well, not exactly gratitude for the guy.

Yet, before Frank could mentally flip his would be creator the bird his foot made contact with something, sending him careening forward to catch himself on the couch. The sudden momentum was enough to make his heartrate spike, a good morning jolt of adrenaline, but as he brought his hand to his chest as though to keep the frantic organ trapped within the thought that registered at the forefront of his mind was that that something had felt...fleshy. Sleep sore eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room...and really wished they hadn’t. Blearily he made out the source of his fall - a cocooned humanoid form curled up on his carpet...unmoving. And this, ladies and gentlemen, was when our hero found he had been framed. Shit, shit, shit, fuck, bugger. This would be just his Saturday, Why, no, officer, I have no idea where that dead woman came from. Oh? A prostitute? She told me she was a dog groomer I swear!

Breathe. It was fine, it would be fine. Really. Nothing he hadn't handled before. Well. Not the hooker specifically – and why did his mind keep looping back to prostitutes? Freud would be giggling with glee at that conclusive leap. Freud can suck my cigar. Old bastard would probably weasel out of it with an oh so clever 'sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, Francis'. That was a comforting thought. Not that he would be spared a blowjob from one long dead psychologist, but that maybe the fabric covered fleshlike substance he had tripped over wasn't in fact a deceased sex worker that he'd need to reanimate just long enough to be seen downtown trawling for tricks. No. Maybe, if he was very lucky, it was simply a homeless urchin that had wandered in and found some comfort in his living room before kicking the bucket. Letting go a shaky breath he took hold of the cocoon encasing the form on the floor – sleeping bag, huh? - and braced himself for the worst. The yell died in his throat as he tugged the slippery easy wash material of the sleeping bag back. No, the sight before him was one still more distasteful than the proverbial trash bag full of dead hooker: His little brother. Fuck.

“Well, I wasn't wrong about the street urchin part. Gonna count that as a partial win.” He muttered wryly before pushing himself to his feet, giving the form a good kick on his way to the kitchen, voice filling with dry bravado, “Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey – the Frank Wyler Homeless Shelter is closed for the day, please don't hesitate to skip breakfast on your way out, and remember that all unattended belongings will be forwarded to the nearest city dump at your expense. As always we appreciate your break ins at the FWHS – I take it 'the door was just open', Zak-attack?”

#starter #zforzaki #threads

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unsettlingshortstories · 4 years

Text

All Summer in a Day

Ray Bradbury (1954)

"Ready?"

"Ready."

"Now?"

"Soon."

"Do the scientists really know? Will it happen today, will it?"

"Look, look; see for yourself!"

The children pressed to each other like so many roses, so many weeds, intermixed, peering out for a look at the hidden sun.

It rained.

It had been raining for seven years; thousands upon thousands of days compounded and filled from one end to the other with rain, with the drum and gush of water, with the sweet crystal fall of showers and the concussion of storms so heavy they were tidal waves come over the islands. A thousand forests had been crushed under the rain and grown up a thousand times to be crushed again. And this was the way life was forever on the planet Venus, and this was the schoolroom of the children of the rocket men and women who had come to a raining world to set up civilization and live out their lives.

"It's stopping, it's stopping!"

"Yes, yes!"

Margot stood apart from them, from these children who could never remember a time when there wasn't rain and rain and rain. They were all nine years old, and if there had been a day, seven years ago, when the sun came out for an hour and showed its face to the stunned world, they could not recall. Sometimes, at night, she heard them stir, in remembrance, and she knew they were dreaming and remembering gold or a yellow crayon or a coin large enough to buy the world with. She knew they thought they remembered a warmness, like a blushing in the face, in the body, in the arms and legs and trembling hands. But then they always awoke to the tatting drum, the endless shaking down of clear bead necklaces upon the roof, the walk, the gardens, the forests, and their dreams were gone.

All day yesterday they had read in class about the sun. About how like a lemon it was, and how hot. And they had written small stories or essays or poems about it:

I think the sun is a flower, that blooms for just one hour.

That was Margot's poem, read in a quiet voice in the still classroom while the rain was falling outside.

"Aw, you didn't write that!" protested one of the boys.

"I did," said Margot. "I did."

"William!" said the teacher.

But that was yesterday. Now the rain was slackening, and the children were crushed in the great thick windows.

Where's teacher?"

"She'll be back."

"She'd better hurry, we'll miss it!"

They turned on themselves, like a feverish wheel, all tumbling spokes. Margot stood alone. She was a very frail girl who looked as if she had been lost in the rain for years and the rain had washed out the blue from her eyes and the red from her mouth and the yellow from her hair. She was an old photograph dusted from an album, whitened away, and if she spoke at all her voice would be a ghost. Now she stood, separate, staring at the rain and the loud wet world beyond the huge glass.

"What're you looking at?" said William.

Margot said nothing.

"Speak when you're spoken to."

He gave her a shove. But she did not move; rather she let herself be moved only by him and nothing else. They edged away from her, they would not look at her. She felt them go away. And this was because she would play no games with them in the echoing tunnels of the underground city. If they tagged her and ran, she stood blinking after them and did not follow. When the class sang songs about happiness and life and games her lips barely moved. Only when they sang about the sun and the summer did her lips move as she watched the drenched windows. And then, of course, the biggest crime of all was that she had come here only five years ago from Earth, and she remembered the sun and the way the sun was and the sky was when she was four in Ohio. And they, they had been on Venus all their lives, and they had been only two years old when last the sun came out and had long since forgotten the color and heat of it and the way it really was.

But Margot remembered.

"It's like a penny," she said once, eyes closed.

"No it's not!" the children cried.

"It's like a fire," she said, "in the stove."

"You're lying, you don't remember!" cried the children.

But she remembered and stood quietly apart from all of them and watched the patterning windows. And once, a month ago, she had refused to shower in the school shower rooms, had clutched her hands to her ears and over her head, screaming the water mustn't touch her head. So after that, dimly, dimly, she sensed it, she was different and they knew her difference and kept away. There was talk that her father and mother were taking her back to Earth next year; it seemed vital to her that they do so, though it would mean the loss of thousands of dollars to her family. And so, the children hated her for all these reasons of big and little consequence. They hated her pale snow face, her waiting silence, her thinness, and her possible future.

"Get away!" The boy gave her another push. "What're you waiting for?"

Then, for the first time, she turned and looked at him. And what she was waiting for was in her eyes.

"Well, don't wait around here!" cried the boy savagely. "You won't see nothing!"

Her lips moved.

"Nothing!" he cried. "It was all a joke, wasn't it?" He turned to the other children. "Nothing's happening today. Is it?"

They all blinked at him and then, understanding, laughed and shook their heads.

"Nothing, nothing!"

"Oh, but," Margot whispered, her eyes helpless. "But this is the day, the scientists predict, they say, they know, the sun..."

"All a joke !" said the boy, and seized her roughly. "Hey, everyone, let's put her in a closet before the teacher comes!"

"No," said Margot, falling back.

They surged about her, caught her up and bore her, protesting, and then pleading, and then crying, back into a tunnel, a room, a closet, where they slammed and locked the door. They stood looking at the door and saw it tremble from her beating and throwing herself against it. They heard her muffled cries. Then, smiling, the turned and went out and back down the tunnel, just as the teacher arrived.

"Ready, children?" She glanced at her watch.

"Yes!" said everyone.

"Are we all here?"

"Yes!"

The rain slacked still more. They crowded to the huge door. The rain stopped.

It was as if, in the midst of a film concerning an avalanche, a tornado, a hurricane, a volcanic eruption, something had, first, gone wrong with the sound apparatus, thus muffling and finally cutting off all noise, all of the blasts and repercussions and thunders, and then, second, ripped the film from the projector and inserted in its place a beautiful tropical slide which did not move or tremor. The world ground to a standstill. The silence was so immense and unbelievable that you felt your ears had been stuffed or you had lost your hearing altogether. The children put their hands to their ears. They stood apart. The door slid back and the smell of the silent, waiting world came in to them.

The sun came out.

It was the color of flaming bronze and it was very large. And the sky around it was a blazing blue tile color. And the jungle burned with sunlight as the children, released from their spell, rushed out, yelling into the springtime.

"Now, don't go too far," called the teacher after them. "You've only two hours, you know. You wouldn't want to get caught out!"

But they were running and turning their faces up to the sky and feeling the sun on their cheeks like a warm iron; they were taking off their jackets and letting the sun burn their arms.

"Oh, it's better than the sun lamps, isn't it?"

"Much, much better!"

They stopped running and stood in the great jungle that covered Venus, that grew and never stopped growing, tumultuously, even as you watched it. It was a nest of octopi, clustering up great arms of fleshlike weed, wavering, flowering in this brief spring. It was the color of rubber and ash, this jungle, from the many years without sun. It was the color of stones and white cheeses and ink, and it was the color of the moon.

The children lay out, laughing, on the jungle mattress, and heard it sigh and squeak under them resilient and alive. They ran among the trees, they slipped and fell, they pushed each other, they played hide-and-seek and tag, but most of all they squinted at the sun until the tears ran down their faces; they put their hands up to that yellowness and that amazing blueness and they breathed of the fresh, fresh air and listened to the silence which suspended them in a blessed sea of no sound and no motion. They looked at everything and savored everything. Then, wildly, like animals escaped from their caves, they ran and ran in shouting circles. They ran for an hour and did not stop running.

And then -in the midst of their running one of the girls wailed. Everyone stopped.

The girl, standing in the open, held out her hand.

"Oh, look, look," she said, trembling.

They came slowly to look at her opened palm.

In the center of it, cupped and huge, was a single raindrop. She began to cry, looking at it. They glanced quietly at the sun.

"Oh. Oh."

A few cold drops fell on their noses and their cheeks and their mouths. The sun faded behind a stir of mist. A wind blew cold around them. They turned and started to walk back toward the underground house, their hands at their sides, their smiles vanishing away.

A boom of thunder startled them and like leaves before a new hurricane, they tumbled upon each other and ran. Lightning struck ten miles away, five miles away, a mile, a half mile. The sky darkened into midnight in a flash.

They stood in the doorway of the underground for a moment until it was raining hard. Then they closed the door and heard the gigantic sound of the rain falling in tons and avalanches, everywhere and forever.

"Will it be seven more years?"

"Yes. Seven."

Then one of them gave a little cry.

"Margot."

"What?"

"She's still in the closet where we locked her."

"Margot."

They stood as if someone had driven them, like so many stakes, into the floor. They looked at each other and then looked away. They glanced out at the world that was raining now and raining and raining steadily. They could not meet each other's glances. Their faces were solemn and pale. They looked at their hands and feet, their faces down.

"Margot."

One of the girls said, "Well...?"

No one moved.

"Go on," whispered the girl.

They walked slowly down the hall in the sound of cold rain. They turned through the doorway to the room in the sound of the storm and thunder, lightning on their faces, blue and terrible. They walked over to the closet door slowly and stood by it.

Behind the closet door was only silence.

They unlocked the door, even more slowly, and let Margot out.

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