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deputy-morgan-malone · 7 months

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OC Aesthetics for the Entities (Magnus Archives)

I'm not sure how much new Spooky Month content I'll be doing this year, I'm pretty tapped out at the moment, but I have had this for a while (created by @sagamemes) and it's pretty spooky, so I figured I'd do it for the start of the spooky season \o/

Tagging @inafieldofdaisies, @turbo-virgins, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @direwombat, @adelaidedrubman, @florbelles, @cassietrn, @unholymilf, @strafethesesinners, @paganminiskirt, @henbased, @deputyash, @roofgeese, @fourlittleseedlings, @josephslittledeputy, @jillvalentinesday, @corvosattano and @voidika to do it too - ONLY if you want to <3

aesthetics for the entities. bold what applies to your muse, italics what applies situationally or only in certain verses. rest of the fears here. this is based on a horror podcast; potentially triggering and / or upsetting content ahead!

Deputy Morgan Malone (FC5 OC)

i. THE BURIED. weighted blankets. drowning. the comfort of a loved one’s weight. soil & sand piling on top of you. hugging so hard it hurts a little. cramped hiding spots. letting out air underwater to sink to the bottom of the pool. walls pressing in on you. not moving from a position even though you’re cramping a little. dragging the last second before you have to inhale. lonely subways. feeling like one with the earth. a layer of dirt on you. looking for something below. cardboard boxes & tiny pillow forts. hands calloused from digging. knowing that your purpose is just below the surface. entering your final resting place before it kills you. a storm drowning you out. dust & sand speaking to you.

ii. THE CORRUPTION. insects. a close imitation of the natural course of life. an illness in a community. a rag that dirties more than it cleans. an untreated wound. containment. breaching containment. unbreathable air. fungi. one with that you love. one with what loves you. a corpse unfit for a glass case. hearing a song in the sound of tiny wings & legs. honeycomb patterns. an ecosystem within a person. a curse passed on. the hubris of a scientist. an ugly death where a glorious one is owed. blood on a handkerchief. parasites. something pushing up the sewer. a mask to keep something out. trypophobia. knowing you belong. death weeks after impact. fever. food that’s gone off. pandora’s box. death behind a glass.

iii. THE DARK. shadows. lights that turn off by themselves. the feel of cold marble. a beaked creature in the night. the difference between seeing darkness & seeing nothing. touch of something you can’t see. hiding under a blanket. white, clouded eyes. months without going outside during sunlight. pouring dark. unscrewing lightbulbs. black matter. light sensitivity. a starless night. time before light was created. a shadow on the wall without a body to attach to. withering plants. a world without a sun. footfalls in an empty house in the night. a light that doesn’t reach as far as it should. desperate reach for a flashlight. clothes that hide your shape. staying unperceivable. winter months in the north. an empty church.

iv. THE DESOLATION. senseless pain. warmth of faith. wax where skin should be. a blazing fire. heat without a source. the third or fourth tragedy in the family. losing everything you’ve ever held dear. so much to live for, gone so soon. the smell of gasoline. touch that scars. coffee cup that never goes cold. scorch marks on wood. inescapably warm air. a child born in fire. death of a loved one. a candle without a flame. an altar in the middle of the woods. animals with burnt fur. plastic explosives. burning hot metal. sweating in an interrogation room. never touching a loved one. disfigurement. kiss that ruins you. the scent of burning fat. a tattoo that terrifies its viewer. the agony of hellfire displayed as art. auburn hair. little clothing in cold weather. a ripple in the air. trying to cool down in vain.

v. THE FLESH. body horror. factories. a hunger for something more filling. never quite happy with how you look. the terror of an animal waiting for slaughter. a very good meal. the liquid of a perfect steak. fighting your worst survival instincts. a twisted bone. long nights working out. more than one heart. appearance that shapes like clay. a bag of bones. bone broth in a pot. knowing to fear pigs. the butcher’s shop. plastic surgery. something alien inside your body. a hunger in the gaze laid upon you. unwitting cannibalism. forgetting what you used to look like. being admired for your appearance & appearance only. teeth marks on skin. scars from wounds that should’ve killed you. cooking in scarcity. fenced in with one way to go.

vi. THE END. the last page of a book. nightmares that don’t feel like nightmares. a skeletal hand. the grip of the grim reaper around your throat. existential pain. ivory dice. flatlining in a hospital. gambling with death. as old as the universe. soul & spirit tied to an object. a dream where you die. closing your eyes for the last time. the pleas of a dying one. knowing the fate of someone you know & being unable to prevent it. a thousand cords tugging you towards your end. skin that’s freezing to the touch. an act of desperation. someone’s life for yours. an eternity spent alive. the cost of your selfishness. watching your own burial. causing your own burial. the smell of death. numbness to fear. words from someone gone. meaninglessness of the actions or lives of single people in the universe. multiple near-death experiences you refuse to die from.

vii. THE EYE. googling something you shouldn’t have. eureka moments. the unforgiving lens of a camera. witness reports. hidden libraries. eyes of different colors. feeling of being watched. a death recorded in tape. a tragedy you can’t look away from. endangering yourself for knowledge. truth. analog records. a symbol of an eye. a watch tower. compulsion to document. turning on recording devices without thinking about it. saving the evidence before the person. extracting information. truth or dare, without the dare. a thirst for knowledge. books that speak to you. coordinated shelves. cataloguing systems. voyeurism. police report you can’t put down. reasoning your way out. smell of old papers. books that read you back.

viii. THE HUNT. sharp canines. sore calves after a run. the scent of blood. an adventure for the journey’s sake. the adrenaline right before the kill. a whistle’s echo. the woods. the doe eyes of a prey animal. your own breath in the air. sharpened claws. being tracked. fear of someone knowing your every movement. hunting down monsters. hide & seek. running away only to end up where you started. staying alive purely because the enemy enjoys seeing you run. a set of footsteps behind you. blood dripping from bare hands. barks & growls. focused eyes. a victim going limp under your hands. a mouth full of fresh blood. catching the scent of something monstrous. perfecting your craft. peering into the dark & running after it.

ix. THE LONELY. an apartment too small for a double bed. completely vacant streets. waking up to see everyone gone. fog. point nemo. a house too big to hear your family members in. alone in a faceless crowd. a mask with nothing behind it. separated cubicles. a deafening silence where joy should be. a blinding spotlight. the least missed in your friend group. streets without lights in the windows. isolation. not truly knowing your friends. your friends not truly knowing you. need for silence. fear of crowds. staring into space knowing nothing is looking back at you. a ship alone at sea. depression. knowing your friends are better off without you. talking to someone only to realise they’re gone. a family too large to notice you there. safety in being alone.

x. THE SLAUGHTER a game of tag. senseless violence. a true crime hobby. improvised weapons. blinding rage. intent to kill. a horrific day in a quiet community. a medal of bravery. holding on to what validates your anger. history books that spare no details. an injury you want revenge for. war. counting kills. songs of soldiers. a knifeblock on the counter. a pool of blood. shellshock. unspeakable horrors. anger pushing you forward. unimaginable pain. not seeing who will hurt you but knowing the pain is coming. a fully human monster. an authority sending its lessers to their deaths. kill or be killed. unedited wartime memoirs. a weapons collection. not knowing the names of who you kill. too many to remember. loss of hope. there’s no heroes in war.

xi. THE SPIRAL sleep deprivation. corridors you can get lost in. maze puzzles that loop back on themselves. losing possessions. losing people. losing your sanity. corkscew curls. rows of funhouse mirrors. optical illusions. a separate reality. walking through the wrong door. delusions. not knowing what your hands are doing. blank spaces in documents. hallucinations. wrong proportions. a nameless thing. a place that has never existed. doubting your own mind. blind faith. losing track of names, labels, categories. distorted sound. an imperfection in a glass that twists the view. loss of time. a garish colour. doors that open to nowhere. lies. an unnatural laugh. jokes & tricks. illusions. a doorway. a sculptor with a wild imagination. limbs in impossible angles. doing what’s fun, not what’s sensible. fractals you can get lost in.

xii. THE STRANGER wax figures. a close approximation of a human face. a borrowed appearance. a strange smell. glass eyes. furs & pelts. a dance. a song of a choir. the uncanny valley. stitching yourself together. the colours of a circus. a puppet with no strings. mannequins. glitter & sequin. a stranger you’ve always known. someone strange in the place of someone you knew. stolen identities. stolen skins. a machine imitating humanity. the anonymity of a service worker. hiding in plain sight. uncomfortable to look at. a faked accent. concealing. forgetting who you are. forgetting who others are. a replacement no one notices. images that look posed. the only one seeing the false face of someone.

xiii. THE VAST. open spaces. carnival rides going up & down. fear of heights. endless infinity around you. your insignificance in an universe. stomach turning at a drop. fear of not the crash down but the moment you slip. the sway of a cable car. an adventure holiday. losing track of where the surface is. miles & miles of nothing around you. staring at the sky & feeling like you may fall into it. loss of control. a fall that doesn’t end in death. glass floor to the view below. terminal velocity. the sound of wind in your ears. a reach over the railing. a jump from the top of the building. falling into nothing. feeling your feet let go of the ground. a leap of faith. motion sickness.

xiv. THE WEB. undecipherable code. a puppeteer holding the strings. power over the weak—willed. strings of fate. manipulation. an arranged accident. a hundred minions doing your bidding. cobwebs. spiders. a laid trap. never voicing discomfort. outwitting a cheater. doing things without realising it. red string across a corkboard. finding something lost where you were sure you checked. power over the unrealiability of chance. watching others dance for you. an entangled death. a thousand tiny legs & fangs. shady forum threads. something important gone missing. suspiciously disregarded case. a missing witness. connections. the world wide web. power of victimhood. gullibility. no control over your own decisions. an invisible leash. mass psychology. a horror film in the making. scapegoat. never remembering to ask for a name.

+ THE EXTINCTION. the end of an era. apocalypse movies. the alarms of warning systems. a desolate landscape. end of the world cults. nihilism. the last written history. a changed world. no survivours. old prophecies. a thousand predicted ends. a new chapter. an end with no escape. catastrophes. a calendar counting down. breaking point. overindulgence.

#i tried to do a mix of morgan's canon life and pre-canon life - and then a few of her more regular aus for the 'situational' occurences #she honestly got the most 'definitely''s for Slaughter but that's mostly because of what others do in the reaping tbh #and she got one more 'never' in Slaughter than she did in The Hunt #so I would say overall she got the Hunt #i didn't actually know that much about the magnus archives and all the entities before this so i didn't know all the options #but i'd say the Hunt suits her frankly #between her 'lust' for life and adrenaline junkie nature - she is a bit of a hunter at heart #couple that with a love of nature and predators and a bit of dabbling in actual hunting herself #and the general nature of what happens during the Reaping #the Hunt probably is the one that typifies her life the most #with some dabblings in the Slaughter (due to her experiences in the reaping) and the Vast #with honourable mentions I think to the Extinction (also due to the reaping) the Eye and the Web #aesthetic games #bold your aesthetic #tag your aesthetic #spooky month 2023 #horror #blood tw #gore imagery #the magnus archives #the entities #tag games

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es46 · 1 month

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Another old sketch, one of the first MonHun muses I had; a fanged wyvern combining traits of gharials and gorgonopsids. - TORRENIAL Title - Gharial wyvern Monster class - Fanged wyvern Known locales - Coastal regions, marshlands and oases Element/ailment - Water Elemental weakness - Ice (3), Thunder (2), Dragon (1), Fire (0), Water (0) Ailment weakness - Poison (2), Stun (2), Blast (1), Paralysis (1), Sleep (1) Torrenial is a fanged wyvern predominantly native to coastal regions and marshlands, with some populations eking out a living by desert oases and rivers. Distinguished by its long snout and pale-brown colours, Torrenial is a formidable apex predator whose defensive integrity of its scutes complements its powerful jaws. Six flexible ports along its sides discharge water at high pressure from internal sacs, enabling both bursts of mobility and surprisingly effective projectile attacks. Torrenial is an ambush predator that specialises in lurking in shallow bodies of water, usually in the lagoons or rivers in coastal regions. It patiently waits for prey to come to the water's edge before lunging, combining its own sheer strength with bursts of speed to seize the victim and drag it underwater. It occasionally ventures into deeper water to catch fish if need be. Excelling in catching prey and rivals by surprise, Torrenial is liable to attack most anything that passes by the water, but it is comparatively passive if traversing on land. While humans are not usually worth the predator's interest, field workers are nevertheless advised to stay away from Torrenial and not to go near shallow bodies of water without first checking the fanged wyvern isn't present. Its ability to discharge water from its ports makes Torrenial formidable. It can change directions, reverse or strike from a distance with controlled bursts of water. Combined with its strength and jaws, this allows Torrenial to easily overpower most other monsters, especially if in its element. Torrenial exhibit sexual dimorphism; adult males have a large sturdy knob on their snout called a ghara. Males use the ghara to display to females and intimidate rival males, resonating sound through it to signal their vitality. Males are highly competitive, contending for territories that ideally overlap with three to four females; usually they use their ghara to settle disputes, but occasionally they will resort to wrestling; these brawls rarely result in injury. The females in a male's territory congregate to lay eggs at the centre of his turf, which the male diligently guards until the infants hatch and disperse to shadow their mothers. Their father will tolerate them but no longer makes an effort to protect them. The mother's care will only last for a year or so until the juveniles are old enough to find their own way in the world. As an apex predator comparable to monsters like Rathalos, Torrenial should only be challenged by experienced hunters (Low Rank - 5, High/Master Rank - 4). Hunters must be wary of facing the fanged wyvern in its natural environment; Torrenial may be lurking in any body of water, waiting to strike. Sonic bombs can surprise and expose it, and keeping the fight on land is crucial for forcing the fanged wyvern to empty its aqua sacs, reducing its effectiveness. Fully grown Torrenial knows few threats beyond elder dragons. Coastal individuals occasionally contend with competition from the likes of Plesioth or Lagiacrus, but hunting further inland alleviates this issue. Individuals in the desert can run afoul of the likes of Monoblos, but taking to the water allows them to avoid a needless fight. Juveniles, of course, can become prey for carnivores like Hyborlex, but a vigilant adult can see off most threats. - Thanks for reading and take care

#fanged wyvern #monster hunter #fanart #sketch #monochrome #wyvern #crocodilian

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florbelles · 7 months

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— OCS AS AESTHETICS FOR THE ENTITIES

tagged by @gwynbleidd, @chuckhansen, @inafieldofdaisies, @queennymeria, @corvosattano & @deputy-morgan-malone (that tumblr is willing to show me in my notifs), ty beloveds!! not sending out any tags since i'm so so so far behind and i think this has made the rounds at least in terms of the usual suspects getting tagged at some point, but if i am Wrong please use this as yours xx

aesthetics for the entities, part i. bold what applies to your muse, italics what applies situationally or only in certain verses. this is based on a horror podcast; potentially triggering and / or upsetting content ahead!

iii. THE DARK. shadows. lights that turn off by themselves. the feel of cold marble. a beaked creature in the night. the difference between seeing darkness & seeing nothing. touch of something you can’t see. hiding under a blanket. white, clouded eyes. months without going outside during sunlight*. pouring dark. unscrewing lightbulbs. black matter. light sensitivity. a starless night. time before light was created. a shadow on the wall without a body to attach to. withering plants. a world without a sun. footfalls in an empty house in the night. a light that doesn’t reach as far as it should. desperate reach for a flashlight. clothes that hide your shape. staying unperceivable. winter months in the north. an empty church.

*in a bunker way, not a voluntary way

viii. THE HUNT. sharp canines. sore calves after a run. the scent of blood. an adventure for the journey’s sake. the adrenaline right before the kill. a whistle’s echo. the woods. the doe eyes of a prey animal. your own breath in the air. sharpened claws. being tracked. fear of someone knowing your every movement. hunting down monsters. hide & seek. running away only to end up where you started. staying alive purely because the enemy enjoys seeing you run*. a set of footsteps behind you*. blood dripping from bare hands. barks & growls. focused eyes. a victim going limp under your hands. a mouth full of fresh blood. catching the scent of something monstrous. perfecting your craft. peering into the dark & running after it.

*she is the one who chases she is the footsteps behind you etc etc etc

x. THE SLAUGHTER. a game of tag. senseless violence. a true crime hobby. improvised weapons. blinding rage. intent to kill. a horrific day in a quiet community. a medal of bravery. holding on to what validates your anger. history books that spare no details. an injury you want revenge for. war. counting kills. songs of soldiers. a knifeblock on the counter. a pool of blood. shellshock. unspeakable horrors. anger pushing you forward. unimaginable pain. not seeing who will hurt you but knowing the pain is coming. a fully human monster. an authority sending its lessers to their deaths. kill or be killed. unedited wartime memoirs. a weapons collection. not knowing the names of who you kill. too many to remember. loss of hope. there’s no heroes in war.

xi. THE SPIRAL. sleep deprivation. corridors you can get lost in. maze puzzles that loop back on themselves. losing possessions. losing people. losing your sanity. corkscew curls. rows of funhouse mirrors. optical illusions. a separate reality. walking through the wrong door. delusions. not knowing what your hands are doing. blank spaces in documents. hallucinations. wrong proportions. a nameless thing. a place that has never existed. doubting your own mind. blind faith. losing track of names, labels, categories. distorted sound. an imperfection in a glass that twists the view. loss of time. a garish colour. doors that open to nowhere. lies. an unnatural laugh. jokes & tricks. illusions. a doorway. a sculptor with a wild imagination. limbs in impossible angles. doing what’s fun, not what’s sensible. fractals you can get lost in.

xii. THE STRANGER. wax figures. a close approximation of a human face. a borrowed appearance. a strange smell. glass eyes. furs & pelts. a dance. a song of a choir. the uncanny valley. stitching yourself together. the colours of a circus. a puppet with no strings. mannequins. glitter & sequin. a stranger you’ve always known. someone strange in the place of someone you knew. stolen identities. stolen skins. a machine imitating humanity. the anonymity of a service worker. hiding in plain sight. uncomfortable to look at. a faked accent. concealing. forgetting who you are. forgetting who others are. a replacement no one notices. images that look posed. the only one seeing the false face of someone.

+ THE EXTINCTION. the end of an era. apocalypse movies. the alarms of warning systems. a desolate landscape. end of the world cults. nihilism. the last written history. a changed world. no survivors. old prophecies. a thousand predicted ends. a new chapter. an end with no escape. catastrophes. a calendar counting down. breaking point. overindulgence.

#losing it at the near full-clear extinction #Who Could Have Foreseen This.....#oc: lyra fairbanks #v: she wrote in blood

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deputyash · 7 months

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OC Aesthetics for the Entities

Tagged by @deputy-morgan-malone to do this aesthetic tag game. Thank you!

Rules: Bold what applies to your muse, italics what applies situationally or only in certain verses. Rest of the fears here. This is based on a horror podcast; potentially triggering and / or upsetting content ahead!

Tagging: @strafethesesinners @harmonyowl @derelictheretic @teamhawkeye @peachyaliien @ri-a-rose @redreart @statichvm @shellibisshe @glowwormsmith @fuckin-nancy @wrathfl @isobel-thorm @adelaidedrubman @blissfulalchemist @direwombat @jacobseed @v0idbuggy @wrathfulrook @mel-eficent @cassietrn @nightwingshero @beemot

Dove Ash (FC5)

vi. THE END. the last page of a book. nightmares that don’t feel like nightmares. a skeletal hand. the grip of the grim reaper around your throat. existential pain. ivory dice. flat-lining in a hospital. gambling with death. as old as the universe. soul & spirit tied to an object. a dream where you die. closing your eyes for the last time. the pleas of a dying one. knowing the fate of someone you know & being unable to prevent it. a thousand cords tugging you towards your end. skin that’s freezing to the touch. an act of desperation. someone’s life for yours. an eternity spent alive. the cost of your selfishness. watching your own burial. causing your own burial. the smell of death. numbness to fear. words from someone gone. meaninglessness of the actions or lives of single people in the universe. multiple near-death experiences you refuse to die from.

ix. THE LONELY. an apartment too small for a double bed. completely vacant streets. waking up to see everyone gone. fog. point nemo. a house too big to hear your family members in. alone in a faceless crowd. a mask with nothing behind it. separated cubicles. a deafening silence where joy should be. a blinding spotlight. the least missed in your friend group. streets without lights in the windows. isolation. not truly knowing your friends. your friends not truly knowing you. need for silence. fear of crowds. staring into space knowing nothing is looking back at you. a ship alone at sea. depression. knowing your friends are better off without you. talking to someone only to realize they’re gone. a family too large to notice you there. safety in being alone.

x. THE SLAUGHTER a game of tag. senseless violence. a true crime hobby. improvised weapons. blinding rage. intent to kill. a horrific day in a quiet community. a medal of bravery. holding on to what validates your anger. history books that spare no details. an injury you want revenge for. war. counting kills. songs of soldiers. a knife block on the counter. a pool of blood. shellshock. unspeakable horrors. anger pushing you forward. unimaginable pain. not seeing who will hurt you but knowing the pain is coming. a fully human monster. an authority sending its lessers to their deaths. kill or be killed. unedited wartime memoirs. a weapons collection. not knowing the names of who you kill. too many to remember. loss of hope. there’s no heroes in war.

xi. THE SPIRAL sleep deprivation. corridors you can get lost in. maze puzzles that loop back on themselves. losing possessions. losing people. losing your sanity. corkscew curls. rows of funhouse mirrors. optical illusions. a separate reality. walking through the wrong door. delusions. not knowing what your hands are doing. blank spaces in documents. hallucinations. wrong proportions. a nameless thing. a place that has never existed. doubting your own mind. blind faith. losing track of names, labels, categories. distorted sound. an imperfection in a glass that twists the view. loss of time. a garish color. doors that open to nowhere. lies. an unnatural laugh. jokes & tricks. illusions. a doorway. a sculptor with a wild imagination. limbs in impossible angles. doing what’s fun, not what’s sensible. fractals you can get lost in.

xii. THE STRANGER wax figures. a close approximation of a human face. a borrowed appearance. a strange smell. glass eyes. furs & pelts. a dance. a song of a choir. the uncanny valley. stitching yourself together. the colors of a circus. a puppet with no strings. mannequins. glitter & sequin. a stranger you’ve always known. someone strange in the place of someone you knew. stolen identities. stolen skins. a machine imitating humanity. the anonymity of a service worker. hiding in plain sight. uncomfortable to look at. a faked accent. concealing. forgetting who you are. forgetting who others are. a replacement no one notices. images that look posed. the only one seeing the false face of someone.

xiv. THE WEB. undecipherable code. a puppeteer holding the strings. power over the weak—willed. strings of fate. manipulation. an arranged accident. a hundred minions doing your bidding. cobwebs. spiders. a laid trap. never voicing discomfort. outwitting a cheater. doing things without realizing it. red string across a corkboard. finding something lost where you were sure you checked. power over the unreliability of chance. watching others dance for you. an entangled death. a thousand tiny legs & fangs. shady forum threads. something important gone missing. suspiciously disregarded case. a missing witness. connections. the world wide web. power of victimhood. gullibility. no control over your own decisions. an invisible leash. mass psychology. a horror film in the making. scapegoat. never remembering to ask for a name.

+ THE EXTINCTION. the end of an era. apocalypse movies. the alarms of warning systems. a desolate landscape. end of the world cults. nihilism. the last written history. a changed world. no survivors. old prophecies. a thousand predicted ends. a new chapter. an end with no escape. catastrophes. a calendar counting down. breaking point. overindulgence.

Izel of Baldur's Gate (BG3)

ix. THE LONELY. an apartment too small for a double bed. completely vacant streets. waking up to see everyone gone. fog. point nemo. a house too big to hear your family members in. alone in a faceless crowd. a mask with nothing behind it. separated cubicles. a deafening silence where joy should be. a blinding spotlight. the least missed in your friend group. streets without lights in the windows. isolation. not truly knowing your friends. your friends not truly knowing you. need for silence. fear of crowds. staring into space knowing nothing is looking back at you. a ship alone at sea. depression. knowing your friends are better off without you. talking to someone only to realize they’re gone. a family too large to notice you there. safety in being alone.

x. THE SLAUGHTER a game of tag. senseless violence. a true crime hobby. improvised weapons. blinding rage. intent to kill. a horrific day in a quiet community. a medal of bravery. holding on to what validates your anger. history books that spare no details. an injury you want revenge for. war. counting kills. songs of soldiers. a knife block on the counter. a pool of blood. shellshock. unspeakable horrors. anger pushing you forward. unimaginable pain. not seeing who will hurt you but knowing the pain is coming. a fully human monster. an authority sending its lessers to their deaths. kill or be killed. unedited wartime memoirs. a weapons collection. not knowing the names of who you kill. too many to remember. loss of hope. there’s no heroes in war.

xi. THE SPIRAL sleep deprivation. corridors you can get lost in. maze puzzles that loop back on themselves. losing possessions. losing people. losing your sanity. corkscew curls. rows of funhouse mirrors. optical illusions. a separate reality. walking through the wrong door. delusions. not knowing what your hands are doing. blank spaces in documents. hallucinations. wrong proportions. a nameless thing. a place that has never existed. doubting your own mind. blind faith. losing track of names, labels, categories. distorted sound. an imperfection in a glass that twists the view. loss of time. a garish color. doors that open to nowhere. lies. an unnatural laugh. jokes & tricks. illusions. a doorway. a sculptor with a wild imagination. limbs in impossible angles. doing what’s fun, not what’s sensible. fractals you can get lost in.

xii. THE STRANGER wax figures. a close approximation of a human face. a borrowed appearance. a strange smell. glass eyes. furs & pelts. a dance. a song of a choir. the uncanny valley. stitching yourself together. the colors of a circus. a puppet with no strings. mannequins. glitter & sequin. a stranger you’ve always known. someone strange in the place of someone you knew. stolen identities. stolen skins. a machine imitating humanity. the anonymity of a service worker. hiding in plain sight. uncomfortable to look at. a faked accent. concealing. forgetting who you are. forgetting who others are. a replacement no one notices. images that look posed. the only one seeing the false face of someone.

xiv. THE WEB. undecipherable code. a puppeteer holding the strings. power over the weak—willed. strings of fate. manipulation. an arranged accident. a hundred minions doing your bidding. cobwebs. spiders. a laid trap. never voicing discomfort. outwitting a cheater. doing things without realizing it. red string across a corkboard. finding something lost where you were sure you checked. power over the unreliability of chance. watching others dance for you. an entangled death. a thousand tiny legs & fangs. shady forum threads. something important gone missing. suspiciously disregarded case. a missing witness. connections. the world wide web. power of victimhood. gullibility. no control over your own decisions. an invisible leash. mass psychology. a horror film in the making. scapegoat. never remembering to ask for a name.

+ THE EXTINCTION. the end of an era. apocalypse movies. the alarms of warning systems. a desolate landscape. end of the world cults. nihilism. the last written history. a changed world. no survivors. old prophecies. a thousand predicted ends. a new chapter. an end with no escape. catastrophes. a calendar counting down. breaking point. overindulgence

#These are a little tricky sometimes - I cant decide if it should be representing them or more so things relating to their story or fears #so I did a bit of it all lol #my ocs #deputyash's ocs #dove ash #izel

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jaegonsmoon · 1 year

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You ever think that like, if the storms end cash happened in a modern au where they still had dragons. Luke would have gotten away so much easier. Arrax was able to fly through a narrow like canyon in the show and in a modern au thatd be idle for Arrax cause he could get through the spaces between the tall buildings way easier then Vhagar and he could also go lower to the streets probably. I think he'd have a way better shot of getting away and that also opens up the thought of, since he did, what all changes

-5 am anon, again :,)

is it you, my muse<333??!

hi my love! soooo, I actually have a scene in a modern au that I’m writing (It’s called “All The Young Dragons” I posted the prologue already) and there’s a scene like that, which diverges from the show since it’s a modern au, it goes quite different but the fate unfortunately remains the same and we do lose baby Arrax.

Now, bringing up canon scene, I believe Arrax and Luke could’ve escaped if they would have found a cave to hide or if Arrax wouldn’t have attacked Vhagar, they were almost out. Luke was being really smart about the situation, he knew what was about to happen the moment he saw Vhagar was gone. My son was scared af but he still tried to soothe Arrax before they took flight. But Arrax was also scared shitless, he is a baby dragon still. They were both so young *holds in tears* So naturally Arrax reacted the way he did, he was carrying both his and Luke’s fears and anxieties atm. If Arrax hadn’t spit fire to Vhagar, they would’ve had more advantage and they could’ve made it out of the big portion of the storm, hell, they did! but y’know, granny was already blood thirsty by then.

In a modern au, is like being chased by a car in a slippery road in the middle of a storm. Perhaps in a modern world they have better flight system??? (okay hear me out I just made myself laugh after almost crying recalling this scene) but what if they have technological radars in their dragons sosidkd like planes? It would honestly be smart, they track each other for safety purposes, they know if it’s clear to land. Where to, the weather conditions. Obviously all this goes to shit somehow, maybe Aemond being a little psycho blocks Luke’s radar. That makes him all the more guilty in this situation if it goes according to canon.

Oh but! Arrax and Luke escaping, their radar is off. Aemond loses them to a big bad portion of the storm that not even Vhagar can cross and that’s when he starts to /panic/ bc oh no, uh oh. He fucked up. But going back to my cave theory, Arrax and Luke are taking shelter in a cave, and the storm is so bad it takes them two days to come out.

By then a war is almost about to set off.

And then! If we go to a modern au Marvel like, where they’re these magical beings with dragons flying around everywhere, and we have the typical city *New Yorkers in every universe collective tired sigh* and the chase takes place in the middle of a storm in the city, yes, Arrax and Luke have the more advantage. Vhagar is too big, she causes hella damage to the buildings and the roads. But Arrax is small and fast, I think they could fit on the underwater/ground tunnels. The people freaking tf will tell on them but by then Luke can leave Arrax in a safe spot and run like a mf.

So many possibilities, I would like to think they had a better chances bc honestly, Luke was really resourceful, it was not his fault Vhagar was the size she is and that Aemond was playing god. And that his dumbass was speaking to his ancient war dragon in the common tongue the whole time. Not sure it would have helped much, but at least the dragon would’ve understood him better.

#I know he said daor and dohaeras like once but why was he begging her to stop in english aemond be serious my child #it reminds me of the theory that alicent’s children don’t really know how to speak high valyrian really well bc she hates it #and they only learned what was necessary #opposed to rhaenyra’s children were she herself likes to teach them #anywaaaaaayyyyyz #lucemond #aemond targaryen #aemond x lucerys #lucerys velaryon #lucerys targaryen #lucerys x aemond

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satureja13 · 1 year

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This is part four of ‘The Story of Kiyoshi and Dtui’ (link leads to chrono) Kiyoshi: “Ms Ngyen. I can’t do this. Report me to the council.” Dtui: “I won’t do that. You can leave, if you like. I won’t tell anyone.” Kiyoshi: “I want this to end. I want to help them. But how can I be sure I do the right thing?” Dtui: “Does it feel wrong to help them?” Kiyoshi: “No.” Dtui: “This isn’t a decision to make easily and no one can help you with that. You are about to act against the council. You will lose your home, your family and maybe even your life. Take your time. I will be with you - whatever you decide.”

Kiyoshi went to the desert. He sat there the whole night and mused about his possibilities. But with all the things he saw and learned at the laboratory, there was only one way left to go for him. There was no turning back anymore.

And so he went back and stood at the same place as Jeb and his friends a few days ago when they planned their break in.

Kiyoshi: “I’m up for it. I will pay the debts of my family for doing wrong and causing so much pain. Let’s invert the mutations of the cowplants so they can do no harm anymore and destroy all the documents and logs.”

The Lab Staff, who had been fired, hadn’t left the Military Base. He felt treated unfairly and watched Dtui and Kiyoshi to find anything useful that would get him his job back. Seems he was lucky... (TMI: The name of this Sim is -> Felix ^^’ ‘felix’ is latin and means ‘lucky’).

Dtui: “I’ll call my partner to get Giga and Jack out of here. She will be here in a few hours.”

And at the same time Felix called the council. A race against time had started and Dtui and Kiyoshi didn’t even now they were participants...

From the Beginning ~ Underwater Love ~ Latest

#The Story of Dtui and Kiyoshi #sims 4 simblr #sims 4 story #sims 4 occult #sims 4 vanilla #Kiyoshi Ito #Dtui Ngyen #Felix #Area 42 #strangerville #Underwater Love #The Council #Felix' Job

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josephseedismyfather · 7 months

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OCs as aesthetics for the entities

Thank you to @inafieldofdaisies, @socially-awkward-skeleton, and @simplegenius042 for this tag! 😘 And apologies now, because this is gonna be a loooooong post! I sucked it up and did all 3 of my babes 😳Feel free to skip on by if you want!

Harley Jane ❤️

Evangeline Rose 💛

The Dep 💙

Woowww that's a lot! Mostly did this one for me, but tagging everyone anyway in case you want to take a peek! @wrathfulrook, @trench-rot, @ladyoriza, @cassietrn, @redreart, @hotmessteaparty, @g0dspeeed, @v0idbuggy, @insanityofvaas, @malefiquinn, @strangefable, @noodlecupcakes, @neverthesameneveranother, @chazz-anova, @aristomal, @villageofshadow, @ocdemon-747, and whoever else wants to play. Tag me! 😘

#oc: harley jane #oc: evangeline rose #untitled john wip #tagged ��#far cry 5 wip #far cry 5 ocs

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nyxnightshade1332 · 6 months

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Expectations When Expecting (Book 1)

Chapter 3

Chapter 4:

Painting the roses was surprisingly therapeutic. Her mind entered a serene moment for the first time since she'd learned of her pregnancy as she traced along the insides of the roses, lining the insides with red paint, and blowing on it to dry it. She worked quickly and efficiently, only startling when Grim would occasionally set a rose on fire.

"Gahh! The stupid rose's on fire!"

"Oh SH-"

"Put it out! Put it out!"

Yuu found herself snickering alongside Ace while she worked.

"Wow. You're even less competent than I thought." Cater sighed, sinking to the floor as he'd extinguished the rose.

"Yo, maybe you should just leave the roses white! They look perfectly pretty 'n stuff to me." Ace remarked, rubbing at his hands as he attempted to remove the paint from his hands.

"It's a matter of tradition. You can't have an unbirthday party without the roses being red." Cater recited. "And you can't play croquet without seven-colored flamingos as mallets and a hedgehog for a ball. Oh, but of course, the roses need to be white when the garden flowers put on their spring concert. That's absolutely crucial."

"What kind of rules are those?"Yuu groaned, dizzy with the words Cater had said.

"Yeah! Like my henchman said, all your rules are completely insane!" Grim stated, sitting as he pouted.

"I never said they were crazy. I just asked what kind they were." Yuu rebutted, making Grim look at her, betrayed.

"Henchman! You're supposed to agree with me!"

"Riddle is all about tradition. Probably more than previous housewardens, T-B-H." Cater informed. "I'll admit that he's, well... a bit extra."

"Yeah, no kidding. I sure don't have time for this nonsense." Ace stood, fed up with the work. "Is Riddle here? I gotta talk to him."

"Yeah, probably. But are you sure that's wise?" Cater asked, side-eyeing his fellow ginger. "Did you even bring an apology tart to replace the one you ate?"

Yuu paused, visibly confused, looking to see both Ace and Deuce with expressions similar to her own.

"Uh, no...? I came here first thing in the morning!"

"Ah ah ah... That could be a problem." Cater gave an awkward laugh. "Have you forgotten rule 53? 'Stolen items must be replaced.' If you're not in compliance, I can't let you in." He said, swiftly pulling out his pen.

"Are you serious?!" Ace asked, bewildered at the sudden display of aggression from the upperclassman.

"All dorm residents must obey the rules. If I let you slide, it would be off with my head next!" Cater mused, moving forward, his eyes trained on the group. "I hate to say it, Ace, but I'm gonna need you to leave before Riddle spots you. Thanx." His smile dropped and the air seemed to become colder.

Yuu felt the dread pool into her stomach and she took a step back.The phrase, I can't let him hurt my baby. Raced in her mind, she clutched her stomach pritectively.

Her eyes remained on Cater before she was rustled from her trance-like fear. She noticed the familiar head of Ace.

"I... think this guy is for real. You guys, do something!" He cowered, practically shaking as he kept behind her.

"Why should WE do anything?" Deuce said, unwilling.

"C'mon, please! I can't use magic! Hurry, he's—" Ace was cut off as a blast of emerald flew past his and Yuu's face. She saw the emerald glow return to the wand, a clear sign of another spell. Yuu felt the panic engulf her, lodging itself in her throat and scrambling her thoughts. Yuu began shaking violently, eyes like those of a cornered cat.

Her mind raced as she tried to scramble backward, nearly knocking Ace over. "Yuu? What're you doing?" He asked, his voice sounding as if he were underwater. Yuu barely registered the fight between her group and Cater, keeping her eyes on him before realizing that he was coming for her. DANGER! Her instincts screamed for her to move away. Cater launched another spell in her direction, leaving no room to dodge.

"No!" She screamed as she braced for impact. It never came. Instead, she felt the familiar chill of the ghost from the cave burst forward, exuding a bright light. Yuu opened her eyes, seeing a barrier-like structure around her. She couldn't feel or hear anything, the entity keeping her inside seemed to have detached her from her body as she felt that she was floating.

Yuu's eyes flitted around, seeing Grim fly to her side, standing in front of her protectively, yet completely unsure of what he was saying to her. Yuu closed her eyes for a moment, and she seemed to have been released from whatever had protected her. She finally began to register things. The group was just outside the Heartslabyul dorm line, the boys had several bruises and their uniforms were dirty. Yuu looked down, noticing scuff marks as if she'd also been thrown out.

Disoriented and shaking, Yuu looked down to see Grim curled around her ankles. Deuce was shaking her, trying to get her to react. When she did, her tone was muted, sounding strange in her ears.

And Yuu released a breath. "What... What happened? Where am I?" She placed a hand on her belly, a wave of panic suddenly surging forward. Please be alive... Please be alive...

"I don't know. You kinda just broke down." Ace stated. The look in his eyes was hard to read.

"No. I just need to know if any of his spells hit me." She stated, eyes wild. "What did he do?"

"You kinda started glowing for no reason, and his spell just bounced offa ya. It was weird." Grim said, noting his minion's distress, and placed his head against her stomach, ear up. He looked up at her, giving a nod, allowing her to release a breath she didn't know she was holding. Good. The baby's alive.

"Thank you all... for helping me." She said, finally relaxing.

"Yeah ,yeah. Anyway, Was that guy for real?!" Ace said, quickly dismissing the topic to change it.

Deuce, seeming to understand the uncomfortable topic, followed Ace's lead. "Yeah! We hit him over and over, but he just kept coming. Maybe he was using some kind of illusion magic?

"So lemme get this straight: we walked in there, totally tartless, but this dude still made us do that whole song and dance before throwing us out?" Ace complained, putting on the most dramatic tone. "He just wanted to make us paint his stupid roses!"

Yuu snorted. "That's classic trickery. It happens a lot in my family." She recalled the time her uncle had gotten her to help with his garden and collecting the eggs.

"Heh. We sure look like a bunch of chumps." Grim added, the mood shifting from heavy and sullen to more lighthearted. Yuu was grateful.

"I guess we'll just have to get an apology tart and come back. Maybe after class, we can-" Deuce froze, eyes widening. "Oh no!" He yelped, pulling out his pocket-watch. Yuu leaned over, her own eyes widening.

"Oh no! Seven-forty-five in the morning! Shoot!" She yelped, collecting the light tote bag.

"We already missed the first bell! We're gonna be late for class!" Deuce cried.

"I don't wanna get a blemish on the first day of my glorious Night Raven education! Shake a leg, chumps! To the classroom, pronto!" Grim hissed, running ahead.

"Hey, so what class are you guys in, anyway? You're freshmen too, right?" Ace asked, following the runners. Yuu winced slightly. Never thought I'd have to go back. She thought.

"The headmage said we're in Class 1-A!" Grim called.

"Hey, that's the same one I'm in. We got Potionology for first period." Deuce remarked.

"Oh ho, yeah! That sounds awesome!" Grim cried, speeding through the hall of mirrors in the direction of the school building.

"M-maybe I don't need magic for that?" Ace worried. Yuu nodded. "Let's hope. You're not the only magicless student here."

Chapter 5

#disney twst #twst #twisted wonderland #twst fanfic #nyx nightshade #twst wonderland #preg!mc #twisted wonderland book 1 #twst oc #twst heartslabyul

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ceaselxss · 29 days

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aesthetics for the entities, part i. bold what applies to your muse, italics what applies situationally or only in certain verses. rest of the fears here. this is based on a horror podcast; potentially triggering and / or upsetting content ahead!

i. the buried. weighed blankets. drowning. the comfort of a loved one’s weight. soil and sand piling on top of you. hugging so hard it hurts a little. cramped hiding spots. letting out air underwater to sink to the bottom of the pool. walls pressing in on you. not moving from a position even though you’re cramping a little. dragging the last second before you have to inhale. lonely subways. feeling like one with the earth. a layer of dirt on you. looking for something below. cardboard boxes and tiny pillow forts. hands calloused from digging. knowing that your purpose is just below the surface. entering your final resting place before it kills you. a storm drowning you out. dust and sand speaking to you.

ii. the corruption. insects. a close imitation of the natural course of life. an illness in a community. a rag that dirties more than it cleans. an untreated wound. containment. breaching containment. unbreathable air. fungi. one with that you love. one with what loves you. a corpse unfit for a glass case. hearing a song in the sound of tiny wings and legs. honeycomb patterns. an ecosystem within a person. a curse passed on. the hubris of a scientist. an ugly death where a glorious one is owed. blood on a handkerchief. parasites. something pushing up the sewer. a mask to keep something out. trypophobia. knowing you belong. death weeks after impact. fever. food that’s gone off. pandora’s box. death behind a glass.

iii. the dark. shadows. lights that turn off by themselves. the feel of cold marble. a beaked creature in the night. the difference between seeing darkness and seeing nothing. touch of something you can’t see. hiding under a blanket. white, clouded eyes. months without going outside during sunlight. pouring dark. unscrewing lightbulbs. black matter. light sensitivity. a starless night. time before light was created. a shadow on the wall without a body to attach to. withering plants. a world without a sun. footfalls in an empty house in the night. a light that doesn’t reach as far as it should. desperate reach for a flashlight. clothes that hide your shape. staying unperceivable. winter months in the north. an empty church.

iv. the desolation. senseless pain. warmth of faith. wax where skin should be. a blazing fire. heat without a source. the third or fourth tragedy in the family. losing everything you’ve ever held dear. so much to live for, gone so soon. the smell of gasoline. touch that scars. coffee cup that never goes cold. scorch marks on wood. inescapably warm air. a child born in fire. death of a loved one. a candle without a flame. an altar in the middle of the woods. animals with burnt fur. plastic explosives. burning hot metal. sweating in an interrogation room. never touching a loved one. disfigurement. a kiss that ruins you. the scent of burning fat. a tattoo that terrifies its viewer. the agony of hellfire displayed as art. auburn hair. little clothing in cold weather. a ripple in the air. trying to cool down in vain.

v. the flesh. body horror. factories. a hunger for something more filling. never quite happy with how you look. the terror of an animal waiting for slaughter. a very good meal. the liquid of a perfect steak. fighting your worst survival instincts. a twisted bone. long nights working out. more than one heart. appearance that shapes like clay. a bag of bones. bone broth in a pot. knowing to fear pigs. the butcher’s shop. plastic surgery. something alien inside your body. a hunger in the gaze laid upon you. unwitting cannibalism. forgetting what you used to look like. being admired for your appearance and appearance only. teeth marks on skin. scars from wounds that should’ve killed you. cooking in scarcity. fenced in with one way to go.

vi. the end. the last page of a book. nightmares that don’t feel like nightmares. a skeletal hand. the grip of the grim reaper around your throat. existential pain. ivory dice. flatlining in a hospital. gambling with death. as old as the universe. soul and spirit tied to an object. a dream where you die. closing your eyes for the last time. the plead of a dying one. knowing the fate of someone you know and being unable to prevent it. a thousand cords tugging you towards your end. skin that’s freezing to the touch. an act of desperation. someone’s life for yours. an eternity spent alive. the cost of your selfishness. watching your own burial. causing your own burial. the smell of death. numbness to fear. words from someone gone. meaninglessness of the actions or lives of single people in the universe. multiple near-death experiences you refuse to die from.

vii. the eye. googling something you shouldn’t have. eureka moments. the unforgiving lens of a camera. witness reports. hidden libraries. eyes of different colours. feeling of being watched. a death recorded in tape. a tragedy you can’t watch away from. endangering yourself for knowledge. truth. analog records. a symbol of an eye. a watch tower. compulsion to document. turning on recording devices without thinking about it. saving the evidence before the person. extracting information. truth or dare, without the dare. a thirst for knowledge. books that speak to you. coordinated shelves. cataloguing systems. voyerism. police report you can’t put down. reasoning your way out. smell of old papers. books that read you back.

Tagged by @reapersxfolly bc they know my interests <3

#i love this one its got some interesting reads on the entities #tseng is undeniably eye aligned but im surprised how much he could fit in with some of the others #dark and end suit pretty well but hes an intelligence operative working in surveillance he is eye #feeling v soft that mae tagged me specifically #[dash meme]#'an empty church' breaks him actually #in the way that jon is spider touched eye i think tseng would be end touched eye

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vixannya · 11 months

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It’s Gallery Time!

FRIDAY, MAY 26TH

OoC Information: THIS IS NOT AN IN-GAME EVENT! This is meant as just something fun to headcanon for your character (and write about if you like - especially with @daily-writing-challenge happening now), if it is something they are able to attend!

Vixannya owns an art gallery in Dalaran where she hosts various art exhibitions throughout the year. Two or three times a year, she will display her own work which is always accompanied by a massive grand opening and follow-up afterparty.

Invitations are always given to those who make large contributions to the gallery and to the arts in general, as well as to prominent families from all over, friends, and those depicted in her work. VIP access goes to the largest contributors, her muses, and anyone who purchases one of the pieces from the gallery on opening night. Even if your character cannot attend the grand opening and afterparty, the gallery is open to the public for a month! !Adults only!

Her first exhibition of the year is titled:

((Yep, that’s it. Just the elemental symbols! Although it’s likely referred to as The Elements.))

The Gallery Opening:

The red carpet treatment always marks the entrance of the gallery, a place for the guests to show off and be photographed in their designer gowns and suits, or whatever else they choose to wear. The fashion seen here always rivals that of the city’s grandest galas, just don’t upstage the art!

A group of master illusionists have transformed both the inside of the gallery and the afterparty space, with the various rooms mirroring themes in their separate locations. The themes: Air, Earth, Fire, Water. The gallery version of each space is a little more simplified than that of the afterparty, in order to feature the art over all else.

The art itself has a single or multiple subjects, each containing one of the elements in some manner. There are 41 pieces in total; most small or medium size with at least one larger piece in each section. !Nudity and sexuality is heavily featured in this particular gallery! The final piece stands about 10x10 foot featuring four different muses portraying the elements themselves in their own unique way.

You’ll see at least one familiar face in the ‘Fire’ portion! @tazindrox has posed nude in his Visage form, backlit by a campfire on a starry night with hand extended to the fireflies surrounding and lighting him.

The After Party:

Most of her after parties consist of four very different spaces that match the theme of the gallery itself!

Water and Earth are the ‘safe’ areas, and also house a variety of options for food. While drinking and drugs are acceptable everywhere, the lewd acts are reserved for the second set of locations.

Water: Massive tanks of water featuring performers dressed as a variety of sea creatures line the walls. An orchestra playing classical music and a large dance floor with a tank running across the ceiling to make it appear as if you are underwater yourself. The food is consistent with the theme, including a table with nyotaimori.

Earth: A forest with secret gardens and fairy rings, do you dare enter? There’s an offshoot leading to literal underground club within a cave that will host a variety of live bands throughout the night playing all sorts of dance music. The food here is also consistent with the theme, including a variety of exotic meats not typically available anywhere else.

Air and Fire are the ‘anything goes WITH CONSENT’ areas.

Air: This room is all about the performances and hosts a variety of aerialists from lyra to silks, and trapeze to pole dancing, and more! You can watch them from below or above! A handful of suspended bars give you a top down view of the performers, and guests are welcome to experience the weightless group or private rooms. @rylandfalkov can be found performing in this room! @serazhen can be found bartending here as well!

Fire: This is where you’ll find the escorts and just about anything happening in the dark corners. Flaming drinks, fiery performances, live metal bands accompanied by live sex shows which heavily feature fire and wax play. This room is not for the faint of heart.

@dicenne can be found working here part of the night!

Remember, what happens at the after party stays at the after party!

Tagging some folks who have ‘attended’ and written about it in the past in case you want to do so again! @rylandfalkov @fio-renze @twosidedsana @mekandawn @kharrisdawndancer @camliristarfallen @maeskia @dawnweaverestates

#story #gallery #gallery opening #the elements

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townofcadence · 8 days

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MORTAL *sips tea*

Glimpses of the Past MORTAL: a scene from my muse's past in which they had a brush with death die (I went a littttle different with it as it's more of a fic of a future moment remembering the past, but I hope you like it! ^^)

In. Out. In. Out.

In.

His lungs burned. They threaded with fire, and threatened to burst. His eyes blurred from the sensation, and the way it numbed the rest of him. He felt like ice with a hot coal trapped in his chest. His fingertips began to wobble in a way fingers didn’t. Droplets plopped against the counter he was leaned against, and the floor his body was making a slow descent to.

Out.

The exhale was violent. It wracked his frame as spasms shook his chest and rattled his boiling lungs until they seized. He coughed, over and over into his twitching, warbling fingers, until water escaped his mouth by the lungful. It coated his translucent, rippling hands and the counter. It kept coming with every heave his body gave. It soaked the counter and puddled on the linoleum, at his feet.

His shoes slipped, hydroplaning out from beneath him, but he barely felt his knees collide with the floor. He reached for the cabinet handle when he continued to sink, but his hands couldn’t grasp it, as slick as they were. He could see refractions of the overhead light through his hands, bouncing off them like sparkling lights on ocean waves. His hair pooled out around him in thick waves, losing color fast, near as fast as the translucency spread up his arms.

The breaths hurt all the more when they came faster. Water trickled in thick rivulets from his mouth even when it was closed. It sprung and leaked from his eyes as he sank lower, reaching, for something, anything, to pull himself from the floor. He was sinking– he was sinking and his head was bleeding–.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

InOutInOutInOut–

The breaths were too fast, but he couldn’t slow them. His body offered no kindness, no meager mercy to ease the mounting knot tangling every nerve in his chest. No respite from the way he felt doused in ice and gasoline. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t feel a pulse pounding, and the silence he sat in sent him further down to the floor.

There was no relief in any of his gasping, sodden breaths. His skin wasn’t skin, and there was nothing beneath his fingers or his legs or his arms. He was only aware of sinking, of feeling water beneath him. His throat was on fire like his lungs, and tension paralyzed him, twisted his limbs in unnatural ways. He felt the vague sensation of his fingers scrabbling at the edges of water and splashing, until he couldn’t feel them anymore. Cold seeped further into him, numbing his core and spreading out until he was sure needles of ice stood on what was left of him. Water streamed down his head like a steady shower, and bubbles escaped his mouth, in the sporadic, strained breaths he still tried to force.

In….

Out….

His thoughts were spread too thin to collect them. Any cohesion they might have had fragmented into a frothy, sparkling surf, where the waves of everything crashed against his brain in soaking buffets. He couldn’t focus. He couldn’t breathe.

The kitchen was smearing away into bleeding, blending watercolors. He was underwater. Pillars of solid oak stayed at the edge of his blurry vision, as he broke the surface to catch a breath and expel the water in his lungs. He coughed, and moved to swim for the shore. To get away from the pier. Someone stood at the edge, with red eyes. His head hurt. They were holding some kind of book. His thoughts stuck together like flypaper. But he needed to–.

He tried to swim, until hands grabbed his head, winding in his soaked hair. They forced his face under the water, and a stream of precious air left his mouth in large bubbles with his alarmed cry.

Jace struggled, but they had leverage, a knee planted against the plywood of the dock. Their grip in his hair made it impossible to untangle, and they shifted it as he struggled, shoving him further under the water. The moonlight illuminated the barest amount of the water around him. Bubbles climbed his face as he thrashed. His lungs screamed as he did, his hands reaching wild and blind for the one holding him down.

He grabbed on to their arm, using it to raise himself at an angle that let him bite. They made a sound and their fingers retracted enough for him to kick back against the wooden pier, breaking the surface with rasping breaths and soaking, choking coughs. They barked something behind him, but he couldn’t understand it. He just swam, doggy paddling and then freestyling away with a headache and water in his chest. A thin trail of red followed him.

He’d nearly reached the shore, on his hands and knees in the shallows, when fingers knotted through his hair again. They forced his head up, up and up until he was sat back on his knees, and his gaze was forced on their face. Red eyes looked down at him and he heard a voice that shouldn’t have come out of that mouth–

He didn’t understand. The words didn’t make sense. They were smug and displeased. 'Not this time'…?

He didn’t have time to wonder. Those fingers ripped, and Jace cried out before it turned to sputtering bubbles, when the hand in his hair yanked him backwards, tipping him over from his knees onto his back in the shallows.

They kept moving, towards the deep he'd swum out of.

Jace grabbed at the rocks and stones, at the hand in his hair again. He tried digging his heels into the dirt and mud. All it did was slow his descent down, and tear out strands of his hair. He didn’t have the angle to stop this, to do anything.

Something else was said but he couldn't hear it between the pounding of his heart, and the ringing and water in his ears. Jace thrashed, gasping breaths when his head broke over the water. On his back, he couldn’t break the grip, especially when it tightened and started to burn his scalp. Pleas escaped his lips, half of them audible, and half turned to foam underwater until he jerked his head again. He was ignored, dragged further from the water’s edge and towards its depths, by the hand that held him up.

He felt them stop, floating far from shore. He took a breath to speak, yanking on the hand in his hair. The breath and half a syllable was all he managed before he was forced down, under the water. Legs straddled over him when he was low enough, and the hands left his hair for his neck. He felt them squeeze. Knees came down on either side of him, pinning his waist. He tried to scratch at them, arms swinging wild and willful. Everything was slowed by water, and he couldn’t tell if he helped himself at all. But it didn’t matter, when a hand left his neck to pin his wrist. He could only beat uselessly on a solid chest in meager defiance, tears in his eyes. He could see something reflecting on the face above him in the light as words left them, distorted by the waves. He couldn’t tell what it was.

But it gave them the courage to take him down further, without fear of entering the deeper, darker water. The waves were too choppy, sparkling with moonlight and broken by bubbles to see much. But occasionally, he could see the glint of … teeth?... through the water, catching brighter and whiter under moonlight. His head hurt too much to focus on anything but holding his breath.

And then those hands around his neck forced his head down against the lake floor, until silt clouded the water, mimicking the sluggish thoughts of his mind.

He could hear distorted laughter, even as his lungs shredded with the first breath of water to fill them. His struggles dwindled, faded out, but still the fingers kept him under. His eyelids fluttered, a few more bubbles escaping his lips, and the scarf around his neck squeezing loose compared to that hand. The tails of it shifted as if to cover his eyes for a fleeting few seconds.

The silt in the water settled. A few more bubbles left an empty chest, as he was held there in the deep blue dark, against the floor of the lake so much further than he’d ever been. The moon hung like a perfect circle, silhouetting the person above him to a dark, featureless shadow draped in blues, with red eyes.

The fingers let go and he didn’t struggle. Didn’t move. Didn’t fight even as they tangled his arms in the lake weeds, so his body didn’t begin to drift. He didn’t thrash where he was knotted down, even as he was released, as they began to carve something beneath his body.

He was just cold. Cold and dark. And then he was alone, and so still and–.

He was dead.

The cabinets all open and spew their contents, with the bubbling wail that rent through him. His semi-solid form collapsed on the kitchen floor. His arms, what little of them weren’t completely liquid, clung to his hair. He squeezed his eyes shut, even as the studio began to flood, water level rising around him. The lights above him flickered, growing brighter, and then shattered with another pained, bubbling cry. The sound of pieces plopping against the water is far away.

Just breathe. Please. Just breathe. He could still breathe. Right? In. Out? Was he breathing? He had to— he didn’t need to but he couldn't’ but he he had to but it didn’t help but he had to–

The quiet pleas in his head went largely unheeded, a whisper compared to the overwhelming now. Another sob echoes from him, as his hair floats around him, cocooning him like a waterfall pouring from his head. He manages a seat with the vague shape of his knees on either side of him, and wet breaths as he squeezes his eyes shut.

It’s all of a scant few beats before he shifts again, and buries his face in his knees. The water in the room sloshes and chops, and he can’t escape the sound of it, as it splashes against the walls in the dark. Sparks sound intermittently above him, but he doesn’t look, even as the water reaches his chest. He could hear it pouring down the walls, feel it falling like rain from the ceiling, pattering in thick droplets on the sloshing surface.

Maybe if it kept coming, it would drown him again.

Then maybe the memories would finally end.

As if the universe wanted to rebuke that thought, he coughed, and water spilled from his lips in an unending stream. Jace’s eyes screwed shut, feeling that same energy buzzing along his skin, before it dragged him under.

#answering things #headcanon meme #ask meme answers #jace blake #jace #cw death #cw panic attack #cw drowning #cw injury #long post #drabble #my original stuff #my original writing #headcanon #Jace Headcanon

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es46 · 13 hours

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A temnoceran based on pycnogonids / sea spiders, designed as an elder-level of superb proportions. This is the superboss of the story, filling a similar role to the likes of Alatreon / Safi'jiiva. - OJOZ-KADAKI Title - Abyssal spider Monster class - Temnoceran Known locales - Isolated coral reef islets Element/Ailment - Hellfire + Water + Bubble + Ice Elemental weakness - Ice (3), Dragon (3), Thunder (1), Ice (0), Fire (0) Ailment weakness - Poison (2), Blast (2), Paralysis (2), Sleep (1), Stun (0) Ojoz-Kadaki is a temnoceran residing in the deepest depths of the ocean, only emerging on the surface on secluded islets near temperate coastlines. It is easily the largest and most influential temnoceran known to the Guild, immediately identified by its dark-blue colouring and various bizarre features. The head and mouthparts expand into a gaping maw, perfect for intaking energy from hydrothermal vents. The first pair are for grappling with the second and third pair are for walking. The fourth pair support vast fin-like membranes that contribute to its bizarre influence over surface conditions. Little is known of Ojoz-Kadaki's ecology. What can be ascertained in that it usually resides deep underwater, sustained on geothermal energy and special chemicals obtained from hydrothermal vents, though occasionally supplementing this diet with filter feeding. What compels it to leave the ocean depths and arrive at the surface is something of a mystery; researchers differ on whether the temnoceran arrives to lay eggs, moult its exoskeleton, or simply seeks an alternative food supply. More research is required, though that is difficult to obtain since Ojoz-Kadaki is such a rare and reclusive species. What is apparent is that Ojoz-Kadaki is a grave danger to surface ecosystems. It possesses an ability to induce changes to the weather, which manifests either as rainstorms or snowstorms, risking flash floods or frozen conditions on environments unable to handle dramatic change. Its abdomen and massive fin-like membranes apparently released special gaseous chemicals that provoke these conditions, essentially diverting water from the ocean to the sky. It is not known how Ojoz-Kadaki facilitates this process, though some believe the temnoceran may obtain energy from elder dragon carcasses deep underwater that grants it a level of near-supernatural power. In combat, Ojoz-Kadaki is near indomitable. Sheer size and strength would be enough, alongside hook-like claws and an armoured carapace reinforced by symbiotic sessile shelled organisms. However, its control over the weather manifests in Ojoz-Kadaki's elemental attacks. From the gaping maw can be unleashed either raging torrents of bubbling water or a supercooling chemical that freezes everything around it. Its limbs likewise alternate these conditions, either liquifying ice into powerful waves or freezing streams into jagged floes. In addition, chemical reactions in its abdomen can unleash short-ranged bursts of flame akin to Hellfire. Ojoz-Kadaki will alternate various states in which one ailment is more prominent, changing the way it fights or even the weather around it. Low rank hunters absolutely must not engage Ojoz-Kadaki unless in exceptionally dire circumstances (High Rank - 8, Master Rank - 6). The sheer environmental discord this monster brings alongside its own raw strength and elemental power makes it a truly formidable opponent. Only master hunters can be expected to take it on. Hunters must carefully manage the temnoceran's different states and exploit particular weaknesses, alternating between targetting the limbs and abdomen. A creature of phenomenal influence, Ojoz-Kadaki knows next to no competition. Even a monster as large as an adult Yondrei Illavius is little match for the temnoceran; only exceptional beasts such as Amatsu or Sharah Ishvalda could hope to overpower Ojoz-Kadaki. - This is the final monster of this MH fanart series (barring some expansion muse). Thank you for reading and take care.

#arthropod #temnoceran #monster hunter #fanart #sketch #monochrome

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skylarstark4826 · 16 days

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In any other scenario, it might have been romantic; a private beach, waves lazily dappling the shoreline, and the sun hanging low in the sky. Were it not for the black plumes of smoke curling off the flaming remains of a crashed ship; spatters of blood dotting the surrounding rocks; or the two figures very much not intertwined in a passionate embrace, it would have been the perfect setting for a proposal.

Shuri was exhausted. After the adrenaline had worn off, pain began to settle in her muscles, unused to such trauma. The hole in her side burned. She dreaded the eventual reveal of the wound. Like unwrapping a gift, she thought, she would most decidedly hate.

At her feet, Namor groaned, eyes squinting against the light. “Water…” he gasped between breaths. His eyes rolled deliriously until his gaze once again settled on Shuri. At this, he furrowed his brow, as if trying to focus on the multiple Black Panthers in his line of sight.

Grimacing, Shuri tossed the spear aside and looked down at the man lying at her feet. They were still a little ways away from the shoreline. Water lapped enticingly, white foam curling around the riptide as it pulled into shore. Their footsteps had already been smoothed over by the current, leaving behind a shiny expanse of sand, glasslike in texture.

Shuri nudged Namor with her foot. At least he seemed to have enough presence of mind to look up at her with a weak glare. Though in his current state, he looked more like a bedraggled puppy, tangled curls hanging over dark eyes. Puppy? That wasn’t right, thought Shuri, but she didn’t know what the underwater equivalent of a puppy was. She should have asked Namor the last time they were in the city, but how would she have worked that into a natural conversation?

Cute was not a word she would so easily assign to someone who earlier threw her into a rock wall, but it fit all the same. Were it not for their dire circumstances, Shuri might have taken a bit longer to admire the smooth line of his neck or the clench of his stomach muscles as he breathed in deeply.

Dragged

Shuri huffed. Her musings would have to wait. Favouring her good side, Shuri leaned down and grabbed ahold of Namor’s leg, conscientiously avoiding the stump of the wing she had yanked out earlier. She wanted to poke at the downy feathers left behind in its wake. Would they grow back?

Namor let out an ungraceful sounding squawk. “What–?”

Before he could finish his sentence, Shuri hoisted his leg and began her slow trek toward the water.

“Hey!” He shouted, craning his head. He raised his arms in surprise, but did not fight back.

“Shut up,” said Shuri, but there was no real heat behind it. “Just stay still.”

Defeated once again, Namor slunk back and let the princess drag him. The two made for an odd spectacle, Shuri limping ahead, one hand wrapped around the muscled leg of the Feathered-Serpent God as he lay back, seemingly resigned to his fate.

Bridal Carry

It would be awkward, thought Shuri, but it would have to do.

Bending down and wincing at the sudden flash of pain in her side, she guided Namor up to a sitting position. The man watched her curiously.

“Bend your knees,” she said, gesturing with hands she’d forgotten were still outfitted with vibranium claws. “Whoops.” She quickly retracted the claws and gave Namor a nervous smile before she forgot she was still garbed in her Black Panther headpiece.

Though Namor did not strike her as someone who took orders well, the man obeyed, sitting up and bending his knees. Shuri then wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He started at her gentle touch, a far cry from the way she had been digging her claws into the meat of his upper back earlier.

Namor was warm, Shuri noticed. Sure, she had just set him on fire, but the heat of his body was comforting. She wanted to curl up at his side, catlike, and put this entire ordeal behind her.

With one arm around his shoulders and her other hand under his thighs, Shuri began her slow ascent upwards. Even with the strength of the Black Panther, her legs wobbled slightly, a sign of her exhaustion and nothing at all to do with the man in her arms.

If she had thought simply touching Namor was akin to lounging beside a fireplace, then holding him in her arms was like cradling an inferno.

“Are you always this warm?” The words slipped out of her mouth, curiosity winning over her common sense. “Or is it because I set you on fire earlier?”

Namor held himself stiffly, but whether this was because he felt awkward cradled in her arms or because of Shuri’s question, she could not say. He opened his mouth and closed it.

“Your strength is exquisite,” he said, choosing not to answer at all. His eyes roamed Shuri’s face, but with her mask still on, his gaze darted back and forth between where he thought her eyes were, and the pointed ears of her headpiece.

Gaze firmly planted on the eyeholes of her mask, he continued. “I would’ve been content to die in battle against you.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. “For the good of the alliance,” she said hastily.

“Yes, of course,” said Namor flatly. “For the good of the alliance,” he echoed. He pursed his lips and stared off into the distance behind Shuri’s head.

To her chagrin, even injured and near death, Namor was still a smartass who couldn’t help but to get the last word in.

“I thought it was normally the princess who got carried like this?”

It was only Shuri’s newly honed Black Panther reflexes that kept her from dropping the underwater god-king into the surf.

Side-by-Side

“Easy now.” Shuri wrapped her arm around Namor’s side and even though her gloves kept her bare hand from touching his waist, she could still feel the way his muscles contracted as he moved. Quickly, she drew her hand into a fist, resting it in the small of his back.

“No.” Namor’s voice was a low rumble in Shuri’s ear. Reaching around, he grasped her clenched fist and unwound her fingers. He patted the back of her hand, as her now outstretched fingers spanned the width of his hip. “Hold me tighter. Like this.”

Shuri could feel Namor’s own arm encircling her narrow hips, his fingers pressed into the muscle beneath. Taking a deep breath, she mimicked his hands, gripping his waist and paying absolutely no mind to the fact that from this proximity, she could practically every single one of his eyelashes. Or that she could see the lines spreading from the corners of his eyes that hinted to some jovial nature that Shuri had seen a hint of when they’d first met and he’d joked about the pressure of the ocean killing her.

Namor grunted with each step they took. It was a slippery trek, made all the more difficult by smooth sand flowing around their feet with every step they took.

Suddenly, Shuri felt the world tilt around her.

“Careful!” Namor called out. He frantically readjusted his grip around Shuri’s waist, yanking her up beside him.

An important thing to note about the Black Panther suit is that it was meant for stealth. Unlike the bulky protection afforded by…say, M’Baku’s oaken breastplate, the suit was supposed to be sleek and svelte. It was meant for infiltration, slipping in and out without being seen. An engineering marvel, Shuri had once called it, and a work of art for something so slick to be useful.

It was this train of thought that permeated Shuri’s overtaxed mind as Namor—in his desperation to keep her upright—held his hand against her sliding body. Up past her hips, watched Shuri with detached fascination, past her waist, past her stomach…

In any other situation, Shuri might have found it in her to laugh at the way Namor’s mouth formed a perfect “o” shape as his eyebrows disappeared into his hairline.

Finally, Namor managed to get a grip on Shuri, dangling like a fish on a wire.

Shuri didn’t need to look to see where his hand had ended up.

“My apologies, Princess,” said Namor softly. The tips of his ears were dusted pink.

Despite his apology, he seemed in no hurry to pull away, his hand still as stone against her where his palm cupped the swell of her breast.

It might have been her imagination, but Shuri swore that his hand was trembling against her, matching the errant pitter-patter of her heart. Namor had large hands, roughened from battle, and though he had earlier used those hands to impale her on the end of a spear, they now held her, careful, but firm.

Shuri pulled herself up as Namor’s grip loosened. He curled his fingers around the curve of her hip as they resumed their walk to the shore.

Finally, they reached the water, seafoam rushing to greet them. Namor groaned, long and low, slowly sinking to his knees as the surf swelled around them.

Shuri retracted the mask around her face, wanting to feel the sea spray on her face. The sun burned low in the sky. However, even the sun’s warmth could not detract from the cold of the ocean.

Namor looked over at her, eyes faintly widening at her exposed face. His gaze passed over her body and her shuddering shoulders. With their arms still intertwined, Namor brought Shuri closer.

There they stood, motionless in the surf. The waves rose and fell around them, but Shuri felt nothing but the warmth of the body in front of her. Namor had to have healed by now, but still, he held her.

Shuri suddenly regretted removing her mask. Without its protection she was quickly running out of places to cast her gaze. Anywhere, she thought, but his face, where Namor watched her, wide-eyed like a child.

Elevated heart rate.

“Shut up,” she told the suit.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

#nashuri #namor x shuri #shuri x namor #namor and shuri #namor of talokan #shuri of wakanda #king namor #princess shuri #nashuri fanart #namor x shuri fanart #black panther #black panter wakanda forever #namor mcu #namuri

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