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zedif-y · 7 months

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Joel is pretty damn good at avoidance. You could call him an expert, he does it so much.

He's so good at it, in fact, that he's multitasking. Not just moping. He's getting wood for his latest build, thank you, so it's not his fault when he doesn't check his communicator— he's swinging a blummin' axe around, he doesn't have time to think about meetings, or Empire trades, or—

His communicator pings again.

—or a certain, tiny Sheriff.

Joel sighs. There goes not thinking about it.

...Deforestation is a valid coping mechanism, innit?

(He tries for a laugh. It doesn't quite reach his eyes.)

His stare bores holes into the rough bark, his knuckles straining around the handle of his axe. Joel curses under his breath.

He doesn't know how to face Jimmy.

That's the issue, isn't it? He could see him, could visit, but he won't. Not right now, not in the next— whatever. Doesn't matter. It doesn't matter, 'cuz Jimmy's alive and that's what's important, right? Joel's being stupid.

He's being stupid because, because. It doesn't make sense that he's still so— hollow and suffocating inside. That his lungs still tremble and seize like he's inhaled smoke, his throat tight and hands clammy when he's unoccupied for too long. It's stupid. It's stupid.

Because Jimmy's fine now. He's walking around as the Sheriff of Tumble Town again, shorter where Joel got taller and if it were any other day, Joel thinks he would be laughing at the thought again.

He swings his axe with more force than necessary, basking in the crack-splintering of wood.

He's not laughing now, though.

He does it again, like he's hammering the thought into his head, over and over: Jimmy is fine. He's alive.

It wasn't meant to last.

The tree falls with a thud, leaves rustling in its wake. His arms ache. Joel's been at this for hours.

He grunts as he heaves up his axe, looking for another tree.

He doesn't get it. He doesn't get it.

His body aches with a grief he can't place, a kind of pain he's never really had to feel until Jimmy, until Grian. He feels a bit like a ghost, some days, and that's. Not very god-like, is it.

He's the god of bloody lightning, or whatever it is he went with, and yet when he hears thunder on stormy nights his skin crawls and his eyes burn and all he can think of is, is—

Tree trunks splinter and collapse under his hands. One, two. Again, and again, and again. Until there's nothing left, until his mind quiets, until, until.

Joel leans against the rough bark, his chest heaving with exertion.

…Yeah. Just that. He's not freaking out, he's not.

Joel lets out a frustrated noise, "What's wrong with me?" He balls his hands into fists, gritting his teeth. "There's no point to this."

How's he meant to explain this to Jimmy, then?

How's Joel meant to say that he can't look at him, can't tease or poke fun because even just thinking about him hurts. That he can't help but mourn him when he's right there and that he doesn't know how to stop, how to face him and not see a ghost.

He'd get that look on his face, the kicked puppy one that Joel always caves to, that one. And Joel will feel bad, because he knows he can be an ass but he's not a monster, and he hates, hates when Jimmy's face crumples like that so—

So seeing him isn't an option. Not right now, at least.

Joel sighs, slowly peeling himself off the side of the tree. His head hurts.

He looks over at the fallen wood, dark oak mingled with leaves and grass. His mind, if only for a moment, flashes with a mansion. Fire.

Joel shakes the thought away, scowling as he goes to scoop up the logs. Stupid brain.

Jimmy's right there, just a nether portal away. He's fine, and so is Joel.

…So is Joel.

He stuffs his materials into his shulker boxes, puts them in his inventory with a sigh.

Right. Next batch.

(His communicator pings, one more time.)

(hey joel, it reads. hope youre alright.)

(It stays unread for another week.)

#ryan's writing #joel smallishbeans #jimmy solidarity #solidaritygaming #solidarity gaming #smallidarity #<<can be read as platonic or romantic #empires smp #empires s2 #esmp s2 #limited life #limlife smp #aftermath at least #trafficblr #mcyt

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plotandelegy · 9 months

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Practical and Unique Post-Apocalyptic Shelter Design Ideas for Fantasy Writers

You've decided to destroy civilization in your fantasy novel? Sucks to be your character. Now let's make their situation a little better or worse but at the least unique, practical, and resourceful.

Use What's Left Behind: The end of the world doesn't mean the end of human ingenuity. Think of what materials survived your apocalypse and how to reuse them. Crumbling skyscrapers can be reinforced and turned into vertical communities, or broken-down cars can be transformed into steel-tough barricades. Old school buses or train cars?

The Importance of Defense: Your characters aren't the only ones who have survived. Threats lurk everywhere. Design shelters that have built-in defenses. Your skyscraper community may have drawbridges between floors, or your train car home can be easily detached and sped away in case of danger. Remember the secret exits!

Incorporate the Natural Environment: Trees, caves, and mountains offer robust options for post-apocalyptic shelter. A hollowed-out hillside, for example, provides cover from harsh weather and is easily defensible. Make sure the natural element isn't in a highly radioactive environment. The trunk of a massive, ancient tree could house an entire family. Underwater habitats in the middle of a lake or an ocean?

Reinvention of Basic Utilities: How will your characters access fresh water, dispose of waste, or maintain a consistent food supply? A river or rainwater could be cleverly directed and filtered, or a salvaged solar panel can provide electricity for a makeshift greenhouse. Composting toilets aren't glamorous, but they get the job done. I may be too used to modern comforts because that last one is a big ew.

Adapting to Your Apocalypse: If you have a nuclear winter scenario, consider shelters with radiation shielding and heat sources. Alien invasion? Consider camouflage or underground dwellings. Zombie outbreak? Elevate your shelters; zombies can't climb! Well, I hope your zombies can't climb. If they do, you may be a sick unhinged person. Keep it up. Makes for better fiction.

Remember, It's Home: This is where your characters will spend a lot of time. Personalize these spaces to reflect the inhabitants. Maybe one character is obsessed with salvaging books, so there's a small library corner. Perhaps another is a mechanic, and there's a well-stocked tool area. Little details will make your post-apocalyptic shelters feel more like home. Or not. A lack of home-related details could add to a sense of impermanence. Having to pull up and run a lot, maybe leaving things behind in your haste, adds to the suspense.

No long ending paragraph today. Have fun writing!

-Indigo

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cherryredstars · 6 months

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1K Prompts

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: Gods AU, Sprinkled Fluff, Mentions of Injured Animals

Summary: It is as the prophecy foretold.

Word Count: 1.2K (Not Edited)

The light is a golden white.

The monument is beginning to form cracks in its delicate marble, foreshadowing the crumbled state it will begin to take as time rushes forward. The night air is warm, chased with the occasional breeze. Footsteps echo in the hollowness, a cloaked figure descending the steps of the shrine. The wind comes to greet the figure, playfully trying to detach the pure white cloth from their form. The moon comes to greet them too, lighting the path to the village in silver. From a distance, the figure seems to glow with the moon.

The village is silent, warm from the late night candles that are now extinguished. It is shielded in darkness, but a bittersweet taste is hanging in the air, just like the townspeople said. It is familiar, bordering on fearful and comforting. Under wooden doors, light teases to escape from the homes but thinks better of it and stays to warm the residents. As the figure walks through the empty dirt road, scattered randomly with stones, the crickets and night owls quiet.

A dog, skinny and wobbling on a broken paw sits in a dark crevice between two homes. The figure walks to the entrance of the small slit, staring down at the animal. Instead of cowering and running away, the dog tries to crawl forward. Its body is too heavy to support itself, protruding ribs weighing down its skinny legs. It tires easily, barely moving a foot before it shifts its head up to look at its cloaked savior. A pitiful whimper rumbles from its throat, silencing when the figure brings a finger to its mouth. The figure bends down, their hand hovering over the dog’s face like they are closing its eyes. The dog's eyes grow heavy, head lowering to rest on its paws. The figure gets up, leaving the dog in its place before continuing their journey. A few seconds later, a puppy of the same moonlight silver follows, tripping over its paws.

The puppy weaves around the figure’s legs yapping in a pitch only they can hear. The puppy seems excited and nostalgic, tumbling and chasing fireflies. The two make it to the edge of the village. They stand at the entrance of a thick forest. The leaves and trunks are dense, preventing the shining of the moon. The figure walks ahead, stopping as the puppy hesitates and gives chase once again. It is colder in the forest, but the figure continues weaving in and out of trees. They do not seem to have an exact location in mind.

Suddenly, cold and deadly arms wrap around the figure’s waist. The figure stills momentarily. Then, they reach up. They grasp the material of the cloak’s hood delicately, pushing it off their head as they look over their shoulder.

The figure--a woman--has shiny skin. Her hair flows from her head and her eyes shine with a comforting warmth that feels like you are coming home after a long and cruel journey. Her aura and face promises protection and all that you’ve been secretly longing for.

“Cariño, you always know where to find me,” the second figure hums.

It is a man, his dark apparel contrasting with his lover’s white clothes. He seems harsher, more final. But, matching with his other half, he gives a subtle comfort. It can only be found in a darkness, revealed to those who are brave enough to enter it. His features are sharp and defined, instead of soft and rounded.

“I brought you a present, Miguel,” the woman responds. Both turn to the ground, watching the glowing puppy who tilts its head in curiosity.

“I see,” Miguel murmurs.

His arms unwind from the woman, crouching to the ground. He holds his hand out, slightly translucent and resembling bones. Hesitance engulfed the small dog again, put it steps forward and sniffs Miguel’s hand. Its tail begins to wag as it realizes what is to come. It yelps excitedly, spinning and jumping in circles before pushing its head into Miguel’s hand. Both gods chuckle, eyes softening as Miguel scratches behind its ear. The puppy pulls away, looking at the two of them one last time before licking Death’s hand. A strong breeze comes through the trees and the dog disappears with it.

They stay paused for a moment, giving nature and its spirits their moment before Miguel gets up again. The two gods face each other, the woman holding her hand out. Miguel takes it, winding his arms around her waist once again. The Guardian throws her arms around Miguel’s neck, delicate fingers ghosting up and down his back. A dark rumble escapes his chest, his face falling to her neck and nosing at it. She giggles at the gesture, turning her head so her lips hover over his ear.

“The village smells of death. You scare them.”

A deep sigh leaves Miguel, pulling away slightly to cup the Guardian’s cheek. He presses a soft kiss to the opposite cheek, stalling. The woman is patient, basking in the moment and not rushing Death. He is thankful.

“They scare themselves,” he whispers back. “Something, a plague or a… hero, perhaps, is soon approaching. Something is stirring, mi luz.”

His goddess hums in thought, eyes glazing over as she peers somewhere behind his shoulder. Her hand on his back stills, hands readjusting to grasp his shoulders. His hands squeeze her sides in comfort, resting his forehead against hers. Her eyes return to his, clearer now. Her beautiful features are marred by a frown, and Miguel’s hand comes to smooth her frown lines away.

“The temple… it is beginning to crack. It grows colder. The oracle foretold it, but it is too soon.”

Her voice is calm, but it holds a bit of alarm. Her body grows stiff and Miguel comforts her in a way only he can. He hums in agreement, but there is little else the either of them can do.

“I know, but we know better than most that time is unforgiving. It does not wait for God or man.”

The Guardian huffs and sinks into her lover’s hold. Some of her warmth seeps into him and he smiles. His hand goes to the small of her back while the other pets her hair. After some time, he pulls away and takes her hand. He guides her back out through the trees, returning to the forest’s edge. The night sky is beginning to lighten, and the moon begins to melt into the sky. Miguel presses his front into her back, kissing the curve of her shoulder. They are silent for a few minutes, watching as the sky clears to make way for the approaching sun.

“A new age is upon us, mi luz,” Miguel whispers faintly into her ear. “It will be our turn to rest soon.”

A strong breeze comes again, her hair trying to follow. When it settles, the coldness at her back is gone. The Guardian stares at the horizon, that small frown still on her face. With a heavy sigh, she pulls her hood back over her face. Her feet move back through the village, growing further away from the trees. She passes the crook where the dog’s body lays, the crickets and night owls sleeping now.

An echo comes again from marble steps, a cloaked figure in white disappearing through the column. The sun rises, washing everything in a golden white before the world is silent again.

Then, the village people open their doors and live as they always have for the last time.

I love God AUs.

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mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess · 1 year

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Wei Wuxian wraps the sleeping boy in his outer robe, and can't help softening at the image of his little hands grasping the material.

"A-Yuan, you have to be good, okay? Don't get into too much trouble, and be kind to others." Wei Wuxian whispers, leaving a small kiss on the boy's forehead. "You have to eat three meals a day, including vegetables. That's how you'll grow big and strong."

He picks A-Yuan up in his arms, holding him close to his chest "You can be whatever you want to when you grow up. You don't have to be a cultivator, but if you want to be, study hard and get a lot of practice, especially on talisman work, okay?"

He waves a hand and resentful energy comes to guard him and A-Yuan. "You are cute and smart and playful, you'll make a lot of friends for sure, but don't let them take advantage of you. It goes the same for girls. Or boys, whichever you'll like, if you'll like any."

He looks around, eyes glowing red as he walks faster. "I hope you'll get the chance to grow up into the great man I know you can be. And even if, maybe, you won't remember me, I hope you know I'll be proud of you no matter what."

At last, they reach one of the many dead forests of the Burial Mounds. The trees are large, branches gnarly, and resentment howls through them like wind. Wei Wuxian snaps his fingers once and the trees give way.

The third one on the right side, between two thorny bushes - it has a hollow trunk, so they won't find him there. But should anyone venture there - so many rare herbs grow in that cursed patch of land - they'll come across him for sure. They'll see how young and sweet and innocent he looks, and they'll save him.

Wei Wuxian grows misty eyed as he lays the boy down. His shoddy sleeping spell will last for three days. That's all he can do, an imitation of the original spell - that one can last for weeks, but it needs spiritual energy to function. Wei Wuxian has long forsaken his.

He wishes he had more to give A-Yuan. Warmer clothes, a blanket, toys, shelter. A life.

He feels the barriers of the Burial Mounds vibrate in distress.

He leaves a tearful kiss on A-Yuan's forehead and covers him up into his robe. "I love you, A-Yuan."

His way back is blurry, but it's not due to the fog of resentment this time.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #writing attempts #wwx

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lovebillyhargrove · 11 months

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Summer Billy and cicadas are definitely buddies ❤️ but what about birds? (Steve's so good with birds)

***

One morning in the early summer, when it's already so hot practically all living creatures are trying to hide away and find some shade, Billy falls asleep under a tree. When he wakes up, he discovers that a couple of kooky tree swallows have started to make a nest in his hair. What on earth are they thinking ?? At first Billy gets angry because what is he supposed to do, it confines his freedom of movement, having something like that on his body. He's not a tree or a bush !! He is not nesting material !! But then he starts watching how the birds scurry and hustle around, bringing dry grass, moss, roots and pine needles, weaving, knotting and interlocking, lining the bottom of the nest with feathers for more comfort. It turns out it's fascinating to watch the nest grow and become a home, and it's also such a tremendous job to make it.

So Billy waits for a couple of days, absorbed in the process, staying put under the same tree but of course, he can't stay like this for too long, he's got stuff to do, thunderstorms to break out, muscles to stretch, clouds to chase and fields of lush grass to lay in, surrounded by flowers and butterflies.

Billy sees a small hollow in the trunk of the tree above him, carefully puts the nest there, birds haphazardly flying around and tweeting loudly, scared of what is happening, but Billy is gentle and tells the birds not to worry.

Billy often visits the place, checking if everything is okay with the nest and the swallows, and watches how the mother lays eggs in the nest, and then they hatch and the parents start taking care of their babies.

Billy remembers all that later in the season when he's already met autumn and this happens

"Heya pretty boy"

"Steve turned from his perch on some old-ladies back fence, hand extended to a small handful of wren birds who nipped at his mossy fingertips and hopped in and around the hollows of his arms." @akioukun

"Birds are so cool," - Billy's thinking.

***

Harringrove seasons au by the amazing @akioukun

#harrington #harringrove seasons au #summer billy x autumn steve #billy x steve

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spacecowboyhotch · 11 months

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SPRITE: Savior

summary: the one where nikini knowingly saves marc’s life, and marc unknowingly saves hers.

pairing: marc spector x forest nymph!oc (nikini)

contents: 18+/NSFW/MATURE, mental health struggles, suicidal ideation/contemplation

wc: 2.6k

an: posted in honor of my favorite person to smoosh’s birthday <33! tough stuff here in the beginning so make a wise decision on if you want to/should read! this is so so so self indulgent and i’m not sorry.

series masterlist | moonknight masterlist | requests open

There’s the smell of moss and dirt in the air, a hint of salt from the lake. Marc sits dangerously on a cliff, feet dangling off the edge as he stares down into the water.

Contemplating.

It’s so loud today. That voice that sounds like his mother rings in his ears, bouncing off the walls of his skull. Most days he can endure it. Steven can talk it away but today Marc’s shut him out. It’s been a long time since he’s so forcefully taken control, but he’s tired. Life is not worth living even with the truths he and his therapist rehearse and rehearse. Even with Steven by his side, the loneliness he’d endured for so long cut like a knife by his companionship.

Their mother, her voice, and her actions are just so loud. She’s dead– lost to illness and addiction just a year ago. She’s dead and she was wrong and Marc was just a child. But, the memory of her deafens any rational line of thought.

So he sits here under the shining sun, staring into reflective water that churns. It beckons to him. A siren’s call of no more. Of peace. If he would just push off and slip away this could all be over. There would be nothing more to fight for.

His breath grows shaky, and shallow as he continues to contemplate. He can feel himself succumbing to that wretched fog, the one that wants him dead. His mother is in it, her voice floating through the mist but he can’t stop. He wants this with or without her. There is always torment. He’s almost done this once, he could do it again. He leans forward, peering harder at the water, unknowing of the presence behind him.

She watches him, perched high up in the tree that she calls home, its trunk hollow and spacious. He frequents this stretch of forest often, and every time as if something in him calls to her, she’s here waiting for him.

Sadness radiates off of him. It seeps from his pores and oozes into the soft forest floor beneath him that is now crying for help, begging to be set free from such melancholy. She is about to step off the branch to go to him when a hand reaches out, wrapping around her wrist.

“Don’t, Nikini. It’s not safe, you don’t know him,” A voice comes from beside her, and she turns to see her friend Lunette. The redhead looks at her with concern, her brow set in firm disapproval.

“He is gentle. And so very sad, the grass can feel it,” Nikini turns back to look at him, seeing him lean forward to look further over the edge. “He wants to die, I must stop him.”

“He is human and not our responsibility. We care for the forest and all it holds. You of all should…know,” The last word comes in a scared whisper when Nikini glowers at her.

Ignoring Lunette’s upsetting words she says, “And right now it holds him.”

“The elders won’t be happy about this. Neither will Kiko.”

“Kiko is pleased with nothing I do, I don’t know why we were paired together.” When Lunette stays quiet, Nikini raises a brow at her, “Will you tell them?”

“No.”

“Then perhaps they will never know,” Nikini suggests.

“Nikini—“

“I will make sure he is safe and then I’ll join you at the waterhole. Tell no one. Promise?”

“Promise,” Lunette sighs reluctantly before materializing in a flurry of leaves.

Despite her eagerness, she is cautious, knowing that Lunette’s warnings could be true. He could be dangerous. He could know of them and want to hurt them. But this sadness he exudes? There’s no way a sadness this deep could be faked.

She closes her eyes and focuses on him, on his aura, and begins to extend her own to him. Marc feels something strange happening to him immediately. The soft but intense smell of jasmine wraps around him, and he leans back, eyes growing heavy. That demeaning voice in his head is smaller, and his brow knits in confusion.

Is Steven fighting? Is he trying to break into the headspace to stop him?

He shakes his head, taking in several deep breaths as if it will clear his head, unknowing that her power isn’t something he can will away. His eyes return to the deep water, to the task at hand and she frowns.

His will must be stronger than she’d hoped it be. This will take more than simple control, it will take companionship and convincing. She steps off of the branch and into the air, floating down to the ground.

Her steps behind her are undetectable, so delicate in the earth beneath her feet.

“Don’t,” She calls out to him.

Marc flinches, letting out a soft shout as he turns around and stands. His stance is defensive, fists raised until his eyes land on her. A woman? His head tilts as he squints at her, fists falling to his sides.

He’s not sure that she is a woman, but something more. He can’t dismiss it, what with Khonshu and his biddings as his avatar. There’s more to this world than he thought, and the sight of her reinforces that for him.

Her hair is short, a stark ashy blonde in comparison to brown skin, and adorned with a crown made of ferns. Her skin is freckled and looks painfully soft under the streams of sunlight— she is wrapped in a white dress that is more akin to a sheet, though it is opaque. She smiles at him, and his eyes zero in on her fangs; they make his heart race. She makes his heart race. She is exquisite. Incomparable.

What is she? Who is she? Something otherworldly for sure.

“Who are you?”

Her throat goes dry when their gazes meet. His eyes are guarded but not unkind. She has seen him time and time again but never this close. She blinks slowly as she tries to take in every detail about him; the furrow of his brow, the slope of his nose, the softness of his lips. There’s the worn sadness on his face— despite it, she finds him captivating.

She clears her throat, chin tilting up, “Nikini.”

“What are you?” He asks, voice full of wonder. His eyes can’t leave her, getting lost in every detail of her.

There are rules. She’s not supposed to discuss anything about herself with humans. She wasn’t supposed to tell him her name. Her gaze falters.

“I— I am…Nikini,” She repeats again cautiously.

His mouth raises in one corner at her answer. He nods, taking a step towards and something warm spreads through his chest when she doesn’t step away. She isn’t afraid of him, isn’t put off by his large stature or furrowed brow despite her small stature.

“I’m Marc. I didn’t mean to disturb you,” He gestures around as if there’s something that had he’d interrupted. But, there’s just them. Them and the forest.

“You come here often.”

“You’ve been watching me?”

“Protecting you,” She amends. “You should stay away from the edge. It is dangerous.”

He snorts a humorless laugh, “That’s the point.”

“The grass, it says you are very sad.”

“The grass?” Marc asks, confused. He feels like he’s going insane…it doesn’t feel so bad with her standing here in front of him.

She points to where he sat, “The grass, it absorbs the aura around it. Yours is…I’m sorry. For whatever happened, I am sorry.”

Marc swallows, looking down at the grass, clearing his throat, “It’s fine. I have it under control.”

She blinks at him, confused by his words. It’s clear he doesn’t have it under control. “But you were going to…I stopped you. The feeling you felt, it was me.”

“Why? Why would you stop me if you know how much I wanted to—,” He cuts himself off, letting out a sigh of frustration. How he feels so entitled to speak to her this way he doesn’t understand, shame bubbles in his belly. “Why?”

She opens her mouth to answer his question and promptly closes it because she is not sure. She doesn’t understand why she’s so drawn to him. In all her years, she's been curious about humans and the way that they live. But she’s never been fascinated by one. So protective. Everything she’s done since seeing him for the first time has been instinct— as if she had to. That’s what she’ll say.

“Because I had to.”

She had to? Maybe it was part of her life, to save pathetic humans like him in her forest. She looks as if she could be the queen of it.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” She says with a smile.” “Come back here. Anytime that you feel this way, come back to me. Yes?”

Seeing her again? This feels like a dream, his head filled with sweet fog. Or maybe he’s already dead. Maybe he’d slipped off the cliff and this was his afterlife. Maybe she’s stationed in the field of reeds— but would an unworthy man like him have made it to a place like that? To a…being like her?

“Alright,” He says mildly.

“Now that I have appeared to you, the forest will try to confuse you to protect me and the others. But this will help.”

The others? Marc thinks to himself. There are more of her?

She holds out her hand, and right before his eye, a piece of gold appears in the cup of her palm. Engraved into it a flower he’s unfamiliar with. He looks up at her in disbelief and then back at the charm. Yes, she is certainly not human but he can’t bring himself to be afraid.

“What is it?” He looks at it skeptically.

She takes his hand and places the charm into it, curling his fingers around it, “A talisman. It will guide you to me. That is my symbol, Jasminum, the flower. It’s what you could smell.”

Marc bites back the sigh that raises in his throat when she touches him. Her skin is like cool, soothing water against his warmth. And so incredibly soft.

“Guide me to you?”

“Just listen to it. It will work. I must go, they will come looking for me. But, will you come back?”

“I’ll come back,” He reassures her before he can think better of it. He shouldn’t come back here, he doesn’t know what she is or what she’ll do to him. But he wants to. He yearns to.

The smile on her face makes Marc’s heart flutter. And then she’s gone, disappearing in a gust of white flowers. From the scent of them, he can tell it’s jasmine.

—

Nikini appears just on the edge of the waterhole. She’s late, the elders have already started their talk about the upcoming summer solstice. She slips behind trees and through branches to where Lunette is with her mate— Riffie— and Kiko. She lets out a silent sigh as she comes to stand beside her. Kiko, taller than both Lunette and Riffie looks over them at her with a disapproving look.

All nymphs are assigned a mate, usually a satyr that belongs to a different faction with different responsibilities. There is no love, no practical compatibility, just an elder who claims that each pair is meant to be together. Nikini couldn’t be more sure that this elder has lost their touch or perhaps they never quite had it. Kiko is in the faction of human control and extermination. She and Kiko…well it will be difficult to lead their lives together with such differences— especially now that she has had contact with Marc.

“You’re late,” Kiko whispers, his hooves shifting in the mud.

“There was an injured fawn, I couldn’t just leave her,” She lies easily, looking away from him and to the elders as she tries to listen.

Lunette and Riffie share a look but say nothing, taking a step inward toward each other. They’ve been privy to many of Nikini and Kiko’s disagreements and prepare for the blowout to come after the elders are finished.

It’s the same talk they give every single year. Except this time, pollution has risen to an all-time high, and with the summer solstice, humans will be their most active in these woods.

“Nature is shifting. The warmth and abundance of summer will be upon us soon and so will droves of them who claim to love the earth and destroy it with their best interests. More than ever we must be dedicated to nourishing and protecting our land.”

“Hear that? I was being dedicated,” She quips to Kiko.

Nymphs, fairies, and satyrs alike scatter once the elders are done speaking, off to do their part for the forest and it’s longevity. Nikini decides to walk home, to see if she can’t run into Marc before he is gone but Kiko has other plans.He calls for her, and when she doesn’t stop for him, he follows after her.

He bends so that his mouth is near her ear, able to whisper, “You smell of human.”

“I know not what you speak of,” She says cooly.

“Do not lie, Nikini. For once, please do not lie to me,” He begs, and though his face is set into a frown she can see how tender his eyes are when she looks over at him.

Sometimes, she wonders if she’s too hard on him. There are times when she finds herself considering giving him a real chance at courting her. She knows that her heart could never truly belong to him. Especially not now.

“The fawn, she was a little girl. She was lost, I simply guided her back to her parents,” She lies again.

“Her scent is intense for a little girl,” Kiko suggests.

“Perhaps she has a strong spirit.”

“You know that it’s against the rules to do something like that.”

“She was a child, Kiko.”

“It does not matter. You heard the speech of the elders, and the humans have become more and more careless. I have seen it with my own eyes.”

Yes, sometimes she sees herself giving him a chance, and then words like those leave his mouth.

She glares up at him, pointing her dainty finger into his chest, “We are eventually supposed to raise children together and you do not even hold empathy for them.”

“They are not our children, they’re the children of a species who seek to destroy themselves.”

“And who are we if we don’t try to save younglings regardless of their species?

“Your head is in the clouds, Nikini. One day you will learn that given the chance to save us, they would pillage and use us for all we have. Every single one of them.”

Marc’s existence, his wonder and sadness sit on the tip of her tongue. If Kiko could just see him. Understand him. If they all could, maybe they wouldn’t be so afraid.

“Do not follow me any longer.”

“Please, Nikini, I’m just trying to open your eyes.”

“My eyes are open and sadly they are faced with the sight of you. Let me amend my statement, do not follow me, and do not talk to me.”

Kiko tries to reach for her, to attempt his best try at an apology but it is too late. His hand is met with white flowers, his nose with her telltale scent. He sighs and heads back towards his faction, heart sinking into his stomach.

She didn’t need this to go so poorly to know that Kiko can never know about Marc. But now more than ever she is concerned if he ever does return. Though it causes her heartache and goes against her want to see him again, that night she lays in a soft pile of moss and prays to the gods that he never returns.

moonknight taglist: @angelfxllcm, @honeybrowne, @ninebluehearts, @rmoonstoner, @hotchs-bitch, @later-gators12, @foreverinwanderlustt-blog, @aleeb, @whatthefishh, @eyelessfaces, @marc-spectorr, @missdictatorme, @toracainz, @mccn-bcys, @minigirl87, @campingwiththecharmings, @juneknight, @pastelbabygirl19 (and @inklore bc this a woods au)

#nikini x marc spector #marc spector x nikini #marc spector x black!oc #marc spector x forest nymph!oc #marc spector #marc spector fanfiction #marc spector fic #moonknight fanfiction #arson writes marvel #sprite #suns out aus out

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diamondcrownacademy · 6 months

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DCA Info Part 23: Sagamore Dorm 🐻🏹🪶

Sagamore (サガモア寮, Sagamoa Ryō) was founded on the Diplomacy (外交) of the Princess of Nature's Voice and is inspired by the world of Pocahontas. Students of this dorm excel in Ancient Rune Reading and Archery.

Dorm Founder: Pocahontas

Known in-universe as the Princess of Nature's Voice (自然の声の姫).

Dorm Crest

The dorm crest features an emblem that resembles a wooden shield, with the interior being beige with light brown leaf and vine patterns and the exterior being amber orange in color. In the center of the interior, there is a compass rose with a cream interior with a brown circle outline in the center with a red and blue compass star in front of it. The compass rose additionally has a red and blue outline. Near the top of the emblem is a red banner with the dorm's name on it. Encompassing the center of the exterior emblem is a necklace that resembles Pocahontas' trademark necklace, on both sides of the exterior emblem are various red and orange colored leaves blowing in the wind and at the top of the exterior emblem are minimalist pictures of Meeko the raccoon and Flit the hummingbird.

Dorm Leader: Elu Sorrel

Sagamore's current dorm leader is Elu Sorrel, a princess who's skilled at archery and has trust issues with people trying to occupy the land her village is located at.

Dorm Fairy: Skili

Skili (スキリ, Sukiri) is Sagamore's dorm fairy and vice dorm leader. She is mellow and isn't much of a chatterbox but she is very patient with those who are energetic and hyper. She would take strolls in the forest area and converse with the animals, sometimes she'd bump into students in the forest. She is a fairy with few words to say but has a strong presence in the dorm.

Her current appearance symbolizes Elu's desire to become a great leader like her father. Someone who is approachable for her people but able to give off the presence of authority.

Dorm Living Quarters

• The Sagamore dorm living quarters building is built on a large oak tree that has a hollow inside but due to the several trees that intertwined with the outside of the trunk it can withstand strong winds and storms.

• The interior of the tree has become the world's biggest treehouse, with gears and pulleys that serve as make-shift elevator to the several floors that was built in. The middle has a staircase that leads to the same floors, this is also in case the pulley needs to be repaired or is unusable for the time being. The students use the tree as a viewing spot and help maintain the wooden contraptions inside. There's also a mini library, cafeteria and workshop built inside. The inventions are built with little use of metal and are built from organic material that is eco-friendly.

• Inside the tree, there are several nests for the birds in the branches while the base has several burrows for the woodland creatures. The students who are experts in animal care check on the animals for any injuries or sicknesses. Surrounding the dorm is a forest where there have been wood carvings and markers to make sure no one gets lost. There are several markers that specify whether it's a foraging spot, a spot for wild animals as well as a warning for dangerous animals or possible cliffs and dangerous plants.

• The students are good at geography and are able to navigate the forest surrounding their dorm with little difficulty.

• The student's personal quarters are located outside the tree base. They are intricately built log houses that it may look rather small on the outside but inside it isn't cramped at all. It is because of a certain magic that makes the room look so much bigger than the outside.The log houses are built at the front area of the tree so it looks like a small village when you see it from a bird's eye view.

• The students are also responsible for making their own furniture and the designs. There are plenty of art projects and inventions that are displayed around the area. There is a demand for their craftsmanship in the marketplace, you could find some of the students get opportunities from guilds who admire their work.

• There is also a large bonfire in the front of the tree, the bonfire has a fire fae that likes to make images out of the smoke and entertain the students.

Etymology

The dorm's name is derived from the word "sagamore" which is a word that some native American tribes use refer to their chief. This references the fact that Pocahontas (both the Disney version and the historical figure she's based on) was a Native American woman and the daughter of Chief Powhatan, the leader of the Powhatan people.

#dorm information #sagamore #DCA info #diamond crown academy

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slimeranch7 · 9 months

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Sometimes a thought about Mona kinda ruining the life of privileged, pampered, spoiled girl from higher class for her amusement kinda tickles my brain. Darling goes from highly respected person to beggar so quickly and can not prepare to real world at all. So Mona takes her under her guide and tries to chain her darling.

I'm opening a dissection operation so I can pick more ideas from your brain, anon. Get on the table. Do not resist.

Dead dove stuffs/emotional manipulation, etc under the cut. Pls heed warnings.

-----

Astrologist Mona Megistus is a reputable academic, and she prides herself on her credibility above all. Her contribution to The Steambird's success is unparalleled, the columns selling at an all time high, and most- if not all- of her thesis have been cited by strong astrology academics across Teyvat. Despite her issues with getting an handle on sufficient mora for her daily needs, she garnered great respect in the academic world, for... For what? For you to openly disrespect her work? To her face, no less.

It didn't matter what family of academics you hailed from, or what kinds of achievements you were honoured in your time at the Akademyia and after that. Your discipline was in alchemy. A focus on human biology and medicine. Eons away from entangling with her works on astrology. So why are you so damn smug- tarnishing her most recent column with one of your own, deliberately targeting her most recent findings with evidence that seemed like it was scrapped together in one drunken night?

It was fate's hand, after all. Out of pure spite, she had poured hours everyday for weeks and every last drop of her budget into researching a subject field so foreign to her, gathering every last of her contacts for their input, cross-referencing hundreds of material until her desk was made of leather, ink and paper instead of wood. All that, to fire back a highly concentrated rebuttal designed to strike where it burnt the deepest. Your career, reputation, thesis- all of it torn to shreds and completely discredited. Any past dubious experiments, on yourself or on others, also brought to light.

The academic world is so, so fickle. Within the first few days, fellow academics you once thought were friends, turned their heads so quickly upon your arrival you thought it might dislocate. Stories and rumours conjured from seemingly nothing, and former rivals stepping up to back it with even less reliable, yet somehow believable evidence. By the end of the week, your own family publicly denounced you, proclaiming their disappointment and disapproval in your actions- in your experimentation, that you were nothing but a disappointment to the name, that you brought shame to the discipline, to the Akademyia, to your country. And after all that, your assets were frozen. Home and office alike, all taken by force.

In the end, you were left with nothing but a flimsy satchel of your personal belongings, and an unwashed lab coat for your clothes. Walking without rhythm nor rhyme in search of a new purpose. It felt impossible, rain pelting down like the world's final attempt and beating you further into the mushy dirt. Fate's cruel way of delivering one final jab was in the form of a gnarly tree trunk, tripping you face first into wet mud. Entire front soiled with earth, hungry and cold, you resigned to sitting under a tree in hopes that thunder would strike you out of this life. Maybe the next one would be a tad bit more fortunate.

Or so you thought. Fancy shoes stepped into your peripheral. The rain suddenly stopped. You don't even think to look up. It was better to pretend to be dead than to endure another humiliating, disgusted glance from a passerby.

But one minute passed and they stayed. It turned to two minutes, then five.

It turned out to be Astrologer Mona Megistus herself. There wasn't much left in your system. Too much had been forcefully dug out, leaving you a hollow shell. An empty, conscious-less mind occupying a half-vacant body. You offer nothing but a soft chuckle. "I get it, I get it. I deserved this. So what does it matter that I'm here? I can't afford to buy you a coffee for a chat, so you can just leave me here." You said. A pause, then, "Or you can do me a final favour and let me know if I have a chance, or if I should just move on to the next life."

A small takeout box drops in your lap. You don't think twice to open it up. There's a nice, vibrant green salad inside, undoubtedly fresh out of the kitchen. "Thank you." You whisper, gratitude swelling inside. Hunger stopped feeling like hunger a day ago, just an empty pit in your abdomen, and you're reminded of what it felt like to even feel the ever-persisting gnawing feeling encouraging you to search for sustenance.

Mona dusts off the rock beside you, and sits despite it being wet. She wordlessly takes out a fork from the bag and stabs out a bite of leafy greens in front of your face.

Numbness fades back to the frosty bite of shame. You try to grab the fork, but she is faster than your lethargic movements. "Please... Please, I don't- Just let me have this one." Your hair still drips with rain water, effectively hiding your tears, but who are you fooling?

"No," Mona insists. "You look terrible. You probably haven't eaten in days. Save your strength for chewing. Every bit counts."

The embarrassment paved way for a sudden surge of anger and frustration. It was her fault, after all. A nice morning with homebrewed coffee turned completely sour as you read the latest Steambird column- Astrologer Megistus condemning you to an eternal hell in the way she knows best. It was systematic and slow, but it proved to be effective and most of all, punishing. And you were living proof of that but you wished you weren't.

"You- You fucking destroyed me." You pushed the box of salad back into her hands, stumbling to get away from her. Rain and mud splashed onto you, but at this point, it barely made a difference. "I was just writing my own discovery. I didn't mean for your work to get discredited. It wasn't fucking personal, but you, you took it that way. It's your fault. Your fault-"

She deflected your remarks tenfold. Her stoic attitude was all the more powerful. "It's no different from the column I wrote, doctor. Nothing personal, just me doing my job. You just happened to be in the way." She replied, picking at the salad. This time she added a tomato, bright red in the forest of green. "I wasn't expecting such an outlandish backlash, frankly. You clearly didn't know the difference between your friends and your enemies."

"That column was written deliberately to target me. My abstract. All of it! Every-fucking-thing. What part of it was not personal?"

It was so easy to feign nonchalance, obviously. You weren't an astrologer. You couldn't read her fate, or her personality or her dubious way of systematically destroying you only so that she could build you back from the ground up. The most tedious part of the process was finished- and now the fun begins. "Such is the nature of academics. Logical and unfeeling. It paves way for future minds, but at the cost of many that lay in its way. You were just one of those casualties." She continues. You could throw your tantrum all day. After all, this is her own twisted form of entertainment. She couldn't wait to train you into an obedient little pet at her beck and call. "Sit down, I can hear your stomach grumbling. Let me apologize in my own way. I can assure you that I truly did not mean for those terrible, two-faced academics who call themselves your friends to shun you the way they did."

And really, you could do nothing else. Darkness clawed at the edges of your vision. You were hungry, exhausted and dehydrated. Your only lifeline sits before you, apologetic frown etched into her expression. "You were a brilliant scholar." She said as she stuffed a mouthful of salad into your mouth. You chewed in silence, letting the sauce sink in. The best- the only- meal you've had in days. "In fact, I actually looked up to you. Some of your papers, albeit outside my field of study, was nothing if not inspiring." At least that wasn't a lie- your papers were well researched, full of hard data and definitive conclusions. It was concrete proof of your innate talent and passion for knowledge. What a shame. In another life, without her, you would have made a game-changing scholar. "Most brilliant scholars, however, tend to lack emotional intelligence. It must have been so hard for you. Not knowing friend from foe."

"You must be foe, then." You murmured, mouth half full of salad. Your muddy shoes was more interesting than Mona.

"Hah, all this and you still call me foe? You're at your lowest, and I'm the only one to seek you out so I can make sure you don't starve to death." She sighs, resolving to stuff you with another mouthful of salad before you can even retort. "I even made this salad myself. It's highly nutritious, but very cost effective. I put a lot of thought into it, so you ought to be thankful."

Sneaking a glance at her, she doesn't look one bit scornful despite your state and your past. Sighing, you resigned to believe her. She's right, after all. Going out of her way to make a delicious, comforting salad when the rest of the world would have let you starve. "'Fank you..."

She shoots you a small smile- the first you've ever seen on Mona Megistus. "Come on, I'll give you the rest of the salad on the way back to my camp. I travel across Teyvat often, but I wouldn't mind if you accompanied me. Maybe we could even study together." She extends a hand as she stands up. "Besides, it would do you no good to stay in this terrible place, full of insincere backstabbers. What do you say?"

Eager to leave it all behind, it was so much easier to take her hand instead. Her recent, most destructive column recedes to the back of your head. You were desperate, hoping for a fresh start, for Mona Megistus to accept you wholly even if the world shunned you. She took you in with open arms. You were content with that.

#dead dove do not eat #mona x reader

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strange-nights-rp · 8 months

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Meet the Clans - TimberClan

🌲Territory

Forest, towering redwood and sequoia trees. The ground is covered in lush green ferns. The terrain is rather rocky, with many ravines and gorges. Series of small creeks wind through the territory, fed by the nearby mountain range in GlacierClan.

🌲 Camp

Treetop camp – A camp among a cluster of redwood trees with two levels. Each den has a lower portion, which is housed in the hollowed out trunks of the trees, and an upper portion, which is located in the lower branches of the tree. The upper portion is used during Newleaf, Greenleaf, and Leaf-fall and good weather, while the lower portions are used during Leafbare and in bad weather.

🌲 Landmarks

Twoleg path - a well maintained hiking trail. Twolegs often hike it during the warmer months, but rarely stray from the path.

Twoleg Place - a campsite with seven cabins, one of which is inhabited by a park ranger year round. People flock to it during newleaf and greenleaf. Has a small garden with some useful herbs.

Redwood Bridge - a large fallen redwood that creates a bridge across the Summit River to the gathering island. TimberClan and occasionally GlacierClan uses it to attend gatherings.

Hidden Grotto - a patch of wet woodland and cave where strange plants grow.

🌲 Weather

Wet, flipping between cool and warm in Newleaf, warm and wet in Greenleaf, cool in Leaf-fall, and cold and sometimes snowy in Leafbare.

🌲 Governmment

After a long and insufferable monarchy, the new leader, daughter of the old monarch, decreed that any cat that is a warrior may nominate themselves to be the deputy of the clan. The clan has a quarter moon to dispute any nomination, after which the clan will vote with a Rank Voting ballot to determine the next depute.

🌲 Fauna

Prey: voles, mice, rats, squirrels, beavers, gophers, porcupine, marmots, chipmunks, flounder, burbot, trout, salmon, minnows, lamprey, sturgeons, sparrows, robins, towhee, chickadee, starlings, jays, meadowlark, woodpeckers, thrush

Predators: wolverines, bears, wolves, cougars, rattlesnakes, coyotes

Other Animals: skunks, deer, bats

🌲 Holidays

Color Festival- Once a full moon cycle is completed after New Leaf, TimberClan gathers all things colorful (mainly flowers) where apprentices are tasked to sort out and organize all the material. They are hoisted into the trees where they are stored throughout the first moon cycle of new leaf. Cats are encouraged to decorate themselves as colorfully or as creatively as they can, and on the first high sun after a new moon, the material in the trees is released to a marvelous and beautiful cascade of colors in celebration of the new life that comes every year to TimberClan.

Festival of Wood- On the first day after the second full moon of Leaf-fall, cats come together to help the Carpenter cats raise new dens up into the treetops. If no additional dens are needed, new ones are made to replace any unstable ones. This day is usually accompanied by a small feast once the new dens are properly installed.

Night of Stars- On the first new new moon of Leafbare when the stars shine their brightest, the clan gathers at the top of the trees near Treetop camp, and tell stories of their loved ones who have joined The Ancestors. Cats are encouraged to bring snacks as they often end up falling asleep throughout the storytelling.

🌲 Specialized Role

Carpenters - The highly skilled TimberClan carpenters are excellent at making tools and trinkets out of wood. These highly skilled carpenters have helped TimberClan easily adapt to their tree nests in winter and help defend their warriors with wooden armor.

#warrior cats rp #wc rp #new wcrp #warrior cat roleplay #warrior cats #warrior cats roleplay #wcrp #snwrp #strange nights

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constellarcreator · 3 months

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What materials from trolls world would you use to make a cozy little house? What would it look like?

THIS ONE IS DIFFICULT I'M BAD AT ARCHITECTURE 😭

With Cherry B. specifically in mind, I think a house built inside a hollowed out old tree trunk would be really neat. It'd seem pretty plain and drab from the outside. There's like no windows but that's made up for with an abundance of string lights and candles. The interior walls are covered in assorted hangings and decorations from various different places. Likewise, the floor is also adorned with mismatched furniture, multiple throw rugs, and shelves of knickknacks. The house in general is just a bit messy and cluttered but still quite pleasant. And there's a lot of pink and red stuff obviously 🩷❤️

#constellar asks #constellar ocs #<- for the cherry lore things

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swordsmanbonsai · 1 year

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The Daimyo Oak The oldest documented Bonsai tree in America is a dwarfed potted Daimyo Oak (Quercus dentata). Also known as the "Abraham Lincoln" tree, it is believed to be the first bonsai to brought into the United States. This Lincoln tree is also the oldest documented bonsai in this country. It is said to have been presented to Anson Burlingame by the Emperor of Japan, who brought it with him back to the U.S. during Lincoln’s presidency. Burlingame had been the U.S. Ambassador to China and was returning home via Japan when he was presented with this Daimyo Oak. This tree had an obvious status and a certain age as a bonsai for the Emperor of Japan to present it to a visiting dignitary.

Daimyo Oaks have rather large leaves that do not respond well to size reduction. So by current standards they aren't generally considered good material for bonsai. As an historical example, it is a good example of styles and tastes change. It would appear when this tree was presented to Burlingame it was acceptable to have bonsai with large leaves.

The tree spent most of its life as a patio tree growing in a large "100 year-old egg" container. Many years ago, a Dr. Gotcher acquired it from a member of the Burlingame family. When the National Arboretum in Washington, D.C. opened the North American Collection of Bonsai in 1991, the tree was offered to the collection. It was however, turned down as it had become overgrown and had "grown out" of it's training pattern.

When the Collection-North opened in 1999, the tree was then offered to the Collection, and Curator, Kathy Shaner, gladly accepted the tree. At the time it was over eight foot tall and quite "scraggly"....but Shaner began a program of training and nurturing. The trunk, meanwhile, had its dead hardwood reamed out. A contemporary description describes that "Now a furrowed and hollow trunk that has grown without any restraining binding for many years, its few browned oak leaves gracing its topmost branch like a rooster's comb, the gnarly tree rests humbly in a black metal tub at the newly opened Bonsai Garden at Lakeside Park in Oakland."

The Daimyo Oak can she seen at the Bonsai Garden at Lake Merritt Bonsai in Oakland, California

https://bonsailakemerritt.com/object/09d73040-91c2-492e-b026/

#daimyooak #bonsai #bonsaipenjing #penzai

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vullcanica · 1 year

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📂📂

Vanya's longest-running book series, despite having the main thematic of dark mysteries, cooky detectives, obsessive researchers and preternatural cases, also includes plenty of romance, a direct result of Vannie herself being a lovebug. The titular narrator, Mr Cain, is married and adores his wife, and his daughter Ms Cain has more chemistry with the women in her life than with her intended straight candidates (necessary to even put books on the shelves in that time period). Even background couples have running stories, she can't just half-ass a romance. Snarky colleagues? Partners in crime? Childhood friends? Accidental allies? Enemies impressed by each other? Yes! And more! Being a giant lesbian apparently does wonders for the female reader base, even if she wrote with a masculine pen name (1940s-50s detective literature craze, iykyk). Of the heaps of letters she keeps from back in the day, her favourites are from women taken with the characters, their relationships and the mysterious writer with such charming insight into the feminine inner world and heart. They used to fluster her something fierce once!

Nikodemus has the most rancid trophy room imaginable, mostly full of souvenirs from atrocities he's committed and horrible cursed paraphernalia. Including but not limited to: the trunk of the hollow tree, a worship idol of his people; an intricatelly ornamented fur-collared robe with two men's magically animated (able to emote and speak) severed heads sewn at the shoulders; several crowns - some authentic and stolen from overthrown/slaughtered rulers, some self-forged but still ancient, some... made out of odd materials (ancient leaves, bones, etc); a werecreature fur carpet; stacks of books that can and will kill you if minimally provoked; a slab of stone with a failed teleportation rune on it that is now its own dark uncloseable portal (it doesn't lead anywhere, stepping into it will just break your body apart); a sizeable grimoire collection; some paintings, mostly of himself, and a very old gravestone with his name on it. :) I just think it really illustrates who he is.

#rasvyet.#the first part: i see alina and raise u lesbian solidarity #second part: i'm so sorry he should be shot from close range #but he simply refuses to die #<3 #ty for this & KISSING U ON THE FOREHEAD #/decapitation #/violence #𝐁𝐘 𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐃𝐒 ‒ inbox ║

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allhallowsthemepark · 2 years

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dream by WOMBO Draws the Park! Part 5

We're taking a look at how the AI interprets Goblin Woods today, and it's...fine. I mean, the individual images all look really good, but there isn't a lot of variety here, in either the palettes or the compositions. I think the software kept pulling from the same original images. But there are some fun details in some of these, so let's go!

I'm returning to my usual practice of starting with no filter:

This version seems to have interpreted the prompt to mean that some of the trees in the woods have goblin heads. Or something. But the more you look at it, the more you spot the subtler figures in the spaces between trunks. Not exactly what I have in mind for the visual aesthetic of Goblin Woods, but effective in its own way.

So let's try some appropriate filters. Dark Fantasy sounds promising for this material:

This one is heavy on the woods, but lighter on the goblins...unless those swollen boles are where they make their houses? I like the spider-webby bare branches in the upper right.

What about something related, like Arcane?

Here we go! This is exactly the kind of "dark fairy tale" vibe I'm going for. Huge trees, tangled undergrowth, hidden hollows, eerie lights with no readily identifiable source, and a suggestion of humanoid figures that never seem to be quite there when you look at them directly, all jumbled together in a dreamlike mishmash. Well done!

But can we top it with something like...oh...Provenance?

A little lighter in tone than the previous ones, but...dang, they ain't lyin', those woods can goblin! Here, the trees themselves are the goblins. I can almost see this as an actual sculpted piece in the theme park, for people to stop and take pictures of. Very...Jim Henson Creature Shop.

What can we get from the Psychic filter?

More goblins-as-trees, looking significantly more sinister than we got from Provenance, in both their features and the more lurid, magenta-splashed palette. Nice touches of autumnal foliage near the top there--this is still a Halloween theme park, after all.

Let's go darker still with Malevolent!

Now the magenta is shading to blood-red as the (increasingly spiky) goblins begin to emerge from the woods and come after us! I'm fascinated by that apparent floral light fixture in the top right quadrant; I would definitely adapt that into the lighting style of the area.

Let's wrap this up with a view of the Baroque filter's interpretation of the prompt:

Yeah, I knew this one would be good. We're back to the impressionistic not-quite-faces in the trees, and as usual, the brassy color wash seems to take us back in time a few centuries. Not bad!

For our bonus, I had real trouble getting anything too interesting out of the names of the rides in Goblin Woods--I guess the words are too generic--so I instead plugged the name of one of our fairy-tale NPCs into the Provenance filter. Everyone say hello to the Witch of the Woods!

This is just superb--it's the woods and the witch and her hut, all rolled into one figure. Shades of Baba Yaga!

#all hallows #all hallows theme park #halloween #goblin woods #ai generated art

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ren-c-leyn · 2 years

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Happy WBW Ren! So there is a village with scars from the Mad War?👀 Am I getting a bit of nostalgic melancholy something was lost but we continue on theme vibe...?

What were the consequences of the Mad War anyway? It must have been a large scale conflict that influenced the world and adventures in how they are today.

Other than that I would like to ask how your projects are going in general, I like me some Ren work updates^^

@writingonesdreams

Happy WBW to you too, Dreams~! :D

Very good and very relevant questions. I've been developing the Mad War and it's impact more closely recently since it's been coming up more and more, such as the village in question.

There are many towns, villages, fortresses, and even cities that still bear the scars of the Mad War. The one in question comes up in the first chapter of the Stormy Road Ahead arc. So, while it is unfortunately unavailable to be read in full at the moment, I have decided to paste it's description below your customary read more, since you are one of my favorite enablers and have been a huge help in motivating me to work hard on multiple projects. So, hopefully that'll help paint the scene for you as you go through my long, rambling explanation of the history of the Mad War, it's effects, and so on.

So, I hope you're in your comfy chair, and allow me to just hand you your gold star now because I think this is my longest ramble to date. If you have follow up questions, you know where to set your bait to lure more rambling out of me.

Happy reading ~!

(Warning, there are mild spoilers in here. 1 paragraph of text from The Stormy Road Ahead arc and some mild story elements of The Guild Masters' arc. Nothing too major, but if you don't like spoilers, you may want to throw this in your drafts until after you've gotten past chapter 1 of The Stormy Road Ahead arc. Also, trigger warnings for both people and animal deaths. Tread lightly if this sort of thing bothers you.)

This place had a different feel than that town. Older, quieter. Like the guild hall separated two completely different eras in time instead of neighboring settlements. This place seemed far more familiar with Trouble's well of sorrows as well. Some of the buildings bore scars where newer materials had been used to fill gaping wounds. Hollowed trunks of broken trees stood like tombstones in some of the yards, while others housed the ruins of long destroyed homes. Not such an odd sight in the world outside of the towers, but it still saddened him each and every time. The Mad War had taken much from many. ~ The Shackles of Time chapter 17 - The Stormy Road Ahead, Part 1.

So, yeah, this sense of lose and melancholic nostalgia is a running theme with The Shackles of Time. I knew it was going to be present since I had the Mad War, Wyndulin and The Time Keeper's backstories, and a bit of the history behind The Dawn Isle guild figured out before hand, but I wasn't expecting it to be quite as in the spotlight as it is. Not that I mind, it's an interesting aspect to the story. It is, however, something I do need to be careful about how I balance. It'd be easy for the entire story to get swallowed by it if it's mishandled.

So, I'm going to start this with a bit of a heads' up, some of this stuff will come up in character in The Guild Masters' Meeting arc. So, if you want Wyndulin's take on this, chapter 3 of it has him talking through it with a younger guild master. It also has his friend, and fellow legend, Monster Slayer Myria talking about her experiences with pre-Mad War life. So, yeah, there's some extra context for you later regarding the culture shift as the people themselves see it.

Now, The Mad war isn't actually wasn't that long ago. It actually was less than 50 years ago, a very short time in the grand scheme of things. However, it is widely regards as the death of an era and the birth of a new one, that is how destructive and devastating it was and how far reaching it's consequences were. The Mad War, as it was dubbed by particularly dramatic bards, was the result of the Mad God, a literal divine God, opening ancient portals to other realms fully.

These portals are known as The Shadow Gates. Not much is known about them, but they are forged out of an extremely strong material that no current means can harm, and seem to be one way portals only. I imagine a few mad mages have tried various experiments to get to the other sides, but if anyone of them succeeded, no one has heard tale of it. No one knows who or what created them, or exactly how ancient they are, but they have been referenced throughout the entirety of history. Documents recovered from the lost cities and other ruins even occasionally speak of them with aw and horror.

The Shadowed Gates are, most famously, where most the monsters that plague the world came from. It is theorized that they are also where the massive monsters who giant bones dot the landscape also came from back in a forgotten age where they were flung fully open, though there is no hard evidence of this. What is known for certain is that they seem to fluctuate in activity, leading to eras that have more monsters and chaos than others. They are basically indestructible, though hundreds of people have tried. And they are where The Mad God got his army from.

He opened all of the gates and invited the monsters and fiends to cross through the threshold and then gained control over them, organizing and coordinating their attacks against mortals. It is uncertain how many died. Thousands. Hundreds of thousands. Maybe more. The places hit hardest were the regions closest to the gates. Entire cities were destroyed over night, armies slaughtered, fields burnt, and even the wildlife devoured. After the initial shock of the event, the armies, adventurers' guilds, mages' guilds, and mercenary guilds started coordinating and working together. They set up battle lines to halt the advance of the monsters and fiends, but could not gain ground against them. They were fighting a God after all. Then, The Time Keeper put forth her theory of sealing the gates and the Mad God. The leaders agreed, and the mages set to work.

While The Time Keeper was an active participant in the battles, her most important contribution to the war was helping develop the seals that were used on the gate and then tear a hole into the divine realm and battle the Mad God before sealing him away as well. The Time Keeper paid a very, very steep cost for this victory however, one she's still struggling to come to terms with.

There are some guilds of all kinds that were wiped out during The Mad War, some cities that were completely lost and never rebuilt, and a major shift in religion. Angry mobs attacked temples, priests and priestesses turned their backs on the Gods, people threw their faith away or turned to other entities to put their beliefs in, such as spirits. The few temples that remain are mostly attended and up-kept by those who are very entrenched in the old ways and those whom believe the Mad God was not a true god or had been driven mad by some corrupting force, though no shrines are left for the Mad God. Even his name was stripped from the records. It is actually illegal in every country with a Shadow Gate in or near it to speak his name, little alone worship him. He is to be forgotten. Though I am sure there are a few secret doom cults that still worship him in secret and seek to return him.

During the Mad War, there were several books and guides written by seasoned adventurers on monsters. Their behaviors, typical tactics, strengths, and weaknesses all written out and illustrated. They were produced in mass and passed out to mercenaries, mages, soldiers, volunteer fighters, and rookies to help them better fight in the Mad War. This was a major boon during the war and also assisted in the eradication efforts against the monsters of the guilds after the Mad War was over, which helped contribute to the current era of relative peace.

However, with as much and as complete as the destruction was, many people had to find new ways to live. Sources of every day essentials were destroyed, people who had been hulled up in protected places often returned to find their homes and businesses and means to make a living destroyed, families were broken apart in the chaos and unable to find each other, among hundreds of other tragedies that completely reshaped peoples' lives. I imagine food was a huge issue during and after the Mad War due to the slaughter of livestock and the ruin of farms, but there probably was very limited access to any sort of goods with trade routes in such disarray. It lead to the increase of traveling merchants and the rise of several merchants' guilds, many of whom still hold a great deal of power over the moving of goods and maintenance of trade routes after establishing themselves in the aftermath of the Mad War.

On an interesting note that probably had more of an effect on the war than the aftermath of it is is that the era before the Mad War was one in which the gates were seeing elevated activity. So there were more monsters, more attacks, creatures getting bold enough to try their luck in cities, and also random dragon raids until The Time Keeper put a stop to that. It was a very hard time to be alive, but as a result there were more people who were raised learning to wield at least simple tools as efficient weapons, learning magic, and other means to protect themselves. It was also a generation prone to making tough choices and had to be willing to sacrifice everything for the sake of survival. I think that that may have been a big factor in Mortals' success against the Mad God and his hoards. They had experience in dealing with monsters, in fighting for their lives, and still they lost so much.

Now, you and I have talked at length about some of the other cultural shifts related to this event, like the adventurer's guilds and their relationships with the people and their reputations and affects on the culture. So I believe that's all I have for the first part of my answer right now.

As for your update - I don't have much to report. I've been working more on the Anniversary specials and I've recently picked up Stardew Valley on a steam sale and yeeeaaah, that game is super addicting and has been a fun break to let my brain rest between bouts of sudden creative sprints, so a lot of my writing has taken a bit of a backseat for the moment. I do still have a bit of an update for you, though. :D

I'm almost finished with the second piece of the Anniversary event special posts. Yes, I am still only on the second. It turned out to be way more complicated than I was originally expecting but it is coming out well. I'm glad I started these pieces way early, because I may not have been able to get all of this prepped in time, otherwise. Though I imagine the next piece is also going to be a bit complex, particularly since the format is new for me. But I think that even with me working with a new thing, the third celebration piece will probably be your favorite of all that I have planned, and the only spoiler I will give for it is the link to the incorrect quote that inspired it:

I confirmed how the elf prince was assassinated in Dark Princess wip. I went for the theatrics over the practicality and then reverse-engineered the reason for why they went with a flashy method because I loved the mental image that much that I decided to latch stubbornly on it. The joys of self-indulgent writing, lol. But the very flashy and public assassination method will also make some of the more mystery-like aspects a bit easier on me. So, that's a big step forward. I may have enough to start it soon, but I want to clear some stuff off my plate first since Dark Princess is a big, delicate project with a ton of moving pieces. It's probably not going to get the green light until I at least get Forgotten Gods' draft 2 out of the way, and may not begin until I get a lot of Shackles of Time chapters banked. It's definitely one that I'm going to have a notes document to keep track of everything on because the small details are going to be critical.

I'm playing with some ideas for the trio's third quest and the final part of Glenn and Zephyr having to tag along with them. I haven't quite decided on one yet, but I'm also thinking about another arc before their third quest due to some things that cropped up during the final chapter of The Guild Masters' arc that may make more sense overall, though it will keep the trio at the guildhall longer. Which might not be a bad thing since I have some plot threads and foreshadowing for future events I can pull on there. Plus, I'm missing some of those side characters. On the other hand I have a big, shiny chaotic world I want to drag the characters through.

So, I guess we'll all see what I decide to do after I wrap up the Stormy Road Ahead arc when I get there. Not sure if I'm happy with how the current chapter I'm on is going, so I am probably going to back up and try writing out an alternative one to see which version I like more. It just kind of feels out of place and too much, but maybe I just need to step back for a little bit then reread the arc as a whole. We'll see.

So, yeah. I'm still cooking up things, but progress will be slow for a little while.

Thanks for stopping by, Dreams~! have a lovely day/evening.

#wbw #The Shackles of Time #my wips

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