#Cloud Migration Testing

[amberwallace]

Whitepaper | ERP Testing in Oracle E-Business Suite

Did you know that 31% of businesses consider integration testing their biggest challenge in ERP testing? This whitepaper delves into the importance of ERP testing in Oracle E-business suite to cloud migration.

[v2softunofficial]

What Does a Cloud Migration Supplier Do?

Introduction

Cloud computing has revolutionized how businesses operate, offering scalable, secure, and cost-efficient solutions for data management and application deployment. As organizations increasingly transition from on-premises infrastructure to cloud environments, the role of a cloud migration supplier has become crucial. These specialized providers assist businesses in moving their workloads to cloud platforms efficiently while ensuring security, compliance, and performance optimization.

In this article, we will explore the responsibilities of a cloud migration supplier, the future of cloud computing, cloud computing and its types, the impact of cloud-based services in AI, and the significance of cloud application testing in the migration process.

What Is a Cloud Migration Supplier?

A cloud migration supplier is a company or service provider that facilitates the transition of applications, data, and workloads from traditional on-premises environments to cloud-based platforms. These suppliers assess an organization's infrastructure, develop a migration strategy, execute the transition, and ensure post-migration optimization. They provide end-to-end support, including security assessments, performance enhancements, and compliance monitoring.

Key Responsibilities of a Cloud Migration Supplier

Cloud Readiness Assessment:

Evaluating existing IT infrastructure, applications, and workloads.

Identifying compatibility issues and potential challenges in migration.

Developing a Cloud Migration Strategy:

Choosing the appropriate cloud model (public, private, or hybrid).

Defining migration objectives, risk management strategies, and timelines.

Executing the Migration Process:

Data transfer and replication.

Application rehosting, refactoring, or rearchitecting.

Ensuring minimal downtime and data loss.

Post-Migration Optimization and Support:

Performance tuning for optimal resource utilization.

Security and compliance monitoring.

Continuous cloud management and cost optimization.

Cloud Computing and Its Types

Understanding cloud computing and its types is fundamental to the migration process. Cloud computing delivers computing services—such as storage, networking, and AI processing—over the internet. It provides flexibility, scalability, and cost-efficiency for businesses.

Types of Cloud Computing

Public Cloud:

Managed by third-party providers like AWS, Azure, and Google Cloud.

Shared infrastructure with multiple tenants.

Cost-effective and scalable for businesses of all sizes.

Private Cloud:

Dedicated infrastructure for a single organization.

Enhanced security and compliance.

Suitable for enterprises with strict data control requirements.

Hybrid Cloud:

A combination of public and private clouds.

Allows workload distribution based on security and performance needs.

Offers flexibility and enhanced disaster recovery options.

Multi-Cloud:

Utilization of multiple cloud providers.

Avoids vendor lock-in and optimizes performance across different platforms.

A cloud migration supplier helps businesses determine the most suitable cloud model based on their operational needs and regulatory requirements.

The Future of Cloud Computing

The future of cloud computing is rapidly evolving with technological advancements, making cloud environments more intelligent, secure, and interconnected. Businesses adopting cloud solutions gain competitive advantages in automation, data analytics, and AI-driven applications.

Emerging Trends in Cloud Computing

Edge Computing Integration:

Enhances real-time data processing by reducing latency.

Supports IoT applications and decentralized computing.

AI-Powered Cloud Services:

Automates cloud management and security protocols.

Enhances predictive analytics for business intelligence.

Serverless Computing:

Eliminates infrastructure management needs.

Allows developers to focus on code deployment without worrying about server maintenance.

Enhanced Cloud Security Measures:

AI-driven threat detection and automated response mechanisms.

Zero-trust architecture for secure cloud environments.

Sustainable Cloud Computing:

Focuses on green data centers and energy-efficient cloud infrastructures.

Reduces the carbon footprint of cloud service providers.

Cloud migration suppliers stay ahead of these trends to provide businesses with innovative solutions tailored to their growth and security needs.

Cloud-Based Services in AI

The integration of cloud based services in AI has transformed industries by providing scalable computing power and vast storage capabilities. Cloud platforms enable businesses to deploy AI models efficiently without investing in expensive on-premises infrastructure.

How Cloud-Based AI Services Benefit Businesses

Scalability and Flexibility:

AI workloads can scale dynamically based on demand.

Businesses can deploy AI applications without infrastructure constraints.

Cost Efficiency:

Reduces hardware costs associated with AI training and deployment.

Pay-as-you-go pricing models optimize IT budgets.

Faster AI Model Training and Deployment:

Cloud platforms provide high-performance computing resources.

Accelerates AI-driven decision-making processes.

Improved Data Management:

Cloud storage enables easy access to large datasets for AI training.

Ensures compliance with data governance and security standards.

A cloud migration supplier ensures seamless integration of AI-driven solutions into cloud environments, maximizing efficiency and innovation for businesses.

Importance of Cloud Application Testing

As businesses migrate applications to the cloud, cloud application testing becomes essential to ensure performance, security, and reliability. A cloud migration supplier incorporates comprehensive testing strategies to mitigate risks and optimize application functionality.

Key Aspects of Cloud Application Testing

Performance Testing:

Evaluates application scalability under varying workloads.

Identifies latency issues and optimizes resource allocation.

Security Testing:

Detects vulnerabilities and ensures compliance with security standards.

Implements encryption, authentication, and access control measures.

Compatibility Testing:

Ensures seamless integration with different cloud environments.

Verifies compatibility across various devices and operating systems.

Disaster Recovery Testing:

Validates data backup and recovery processes.

Ensures business continuity in case of cloud failures.

Usability Testing:

Enhances user experience by identifying functional gaps.

Optimizes cloud applications for performance and accessibility.

By implementing rigorous cloud application testing, businesses can ensure a seamless transition to cloud environments while maintaining service quality and reliability.

Conclusion

A cloud migration supplier plays a critical role in helping businesses navigate their digital transformation journey. From evaluating infrastructure and executing migrations to optimizing cloud environments, these providers ensure a smooth transition with minimal disruption. As the future of cloud computing evolves, businesses must embrace cloud-based services in AI, implement robust cloud application testing, and leverage various types of cloud computing to stay ahead of the competition.

By partnering with a cloud migration supplier, organizations can unlock the full potential of cloud technology, achieving greater efficiency, scalability, and innovation in their operations. Cloud migration is no longer just an IT initiative—it is a strategic move that drives business growth in the digital era.

[appzlogic]

Navigating the Cloud: Security Risks in Cloud Migration and Effective Mitigation Strategies

The journey to the cloud offers organizations unparalleled benefits in terms of scalability, flexibility, and efficiency. However, amid the promise of these advantages, security risks loom large during the process of cloud migration. This blog explores the potential security challenges associated with it and provides insights into effective mitigation strategies to ensure a secure transition. Read more: https://medium.com/@appzlogic519/navigating-the-cloud-security-risks-in-cloud-migration-and-effective-mitigation-strategies-ae61ef0475e9

[igtsolutions]

Unleashing the Power of Cloud Migration

Embark on a transformative journey with Cloud Migration services, a catalyst for business innovation and agility. At IGT Solutions, we specialize in facilitating smooth transitions to the cloud, ensuring a seamless migration process for your business. Our Cloud Computing experts bring efficiency to every step, from strategic planning to implementation, unlocking the full potential of cloud technology. Explore the benefits of scalable solutions and enhanced performance with our Cloud Migration services. Additionally, our comprehensive Cloud Testing services guarantee the robustness and reliability of your cloud infrastructure, safeguarding your digital assets. Trust IGT Solutions to lead your business into the future of cloud computing.

[sirfrogsworth]

I think this question is the most asked one I see from people starting their photography journey.

They upgrade from their smartphone and get a nicer camera and lens and then wonder why their photos don't look much different.

A fancy camera opens up more possibilities and gives you great control. Lenses are creative tools that allow myriad perspectives. But a paintbrush does not paint a picture for you.

The answer to the question is light and effort.

The better the light, the less effort required. The worse the light, the more effort required. But you always need both to get a good photo. And you need a lot of both to get a spectacular photo.

Imagine this photo taken in the same overcast light as the waterfall above.

That would be the world's most boring parking lot photo.

But because the light was so beautiful I was able to pull out my smartphone and get a great shot. No fancy camera required. But I knew my phone was limited so I took three photos for a panorama. And I captured everything in RAW format to make sure I didn't lose any dynamic range or color information. This required a lot of extra post processing to combine everything and edit the colors close to what my eyeballs saw.

The light made things much easier. I just had to point the camera in the direction of the sunset. But effort was still part of the equation.

The best light is at...

Sunrise.

Sunset.

Or at night (tripod required).

Or... bring your own light.

I had a sunset but my friend was in the dark so I employed my gigantic 7 foot umbrella.

Good photographers often plan their shots in advance. They will scout locations (Google Maps is your friend), take test shots to find the best composition, and then wait until the light is magical to get their shot. There are some landscapists who return to a spot continuously until conditions are perfect. I've heard of some who spend a year or more to get the photo they desire.

I knew I was going to be near the Arch. I used Google Maps to figure out a cool vantage point. I hauled my tripod a few blocks to that spot. And then my heart sank a little...

They turned the lights off.

The lights that illuminate the Arch confuse migrating geese in September. I still took the photo. And it's okay. But I didn't have the light I wanted. So I'll have to go back another time when geese aren't screwing everything up.

I'll have to put in that effort.

I understand you cannot always plan ahead. If photographers need to get a good shot spontaneously in bad light, they have to go above and beyond to elevate the photo.

They might have to find an interesting perspective.

Perhaps use an atypical lens.

Long exposure.

Or they can incorporate an interesting subject. A model. An old barn. Fungus.

Think about foreground, midground, and background. If you have a dull background, increase interest in the foreground or midground. Or both.

Again, the worse the light is, the more effort you have to put in to compensate. You might find yourself lying on the ground or dangling over a cliff.

Another option is to bring your own light. Overcast days can actually look quite compelling if you light a subject and then underexpose the background. This can bring out a lot of details in the clouds that would otherwise get lost in a natural light exposure.

(not my photo, source unknown)

Sometimes the prettiest days make the most boring photos. Sunlight at high noon is very hard to work with photographically. Especially if you have people in the photo. Hard shadows tend to not be flattering.

Black and white can sometimes make harsh sunlight look cool.

Or you can add a fold-up diffuser to help soften things.

All of this is to say... you cannot take a fancy camera to a waterfall on an overcast day and expect it to do all of the work. You are just going to end up with a flat looking snapshot. You have to put thought into your photos. You need a bag of tricks you can pull from at any moment. And you have to be willing to go the extra mile if you don't have the light you want.

For a waterfall at sunset, you can just put it dead center and call it a day.

(photographer unknown)

But if you have an overcast day with boring light, you're gonna need to effort your ass off.

This photographer put the camera near the ground, found a great composition, included cool foreground/midground elements, and used long exposure to make the water silky.

(Stephen Spragg)

There is also the option to combine maximum light with maximum effort.

This is by famed photographer, Joe McNally. He shot at night. There is a hidden flash off to the right of the worker. He used a wide lens to get a unique perspective. He used long exposure to get light trails from the cars below. Oh, and he is hanging off the side of a building.

Light and effort. Light and effort. Light and effort.

And, as always, the third secret ingredient is... education.

Education will help you leverage light and effort more so than any camera or lens. Don't just learn the open chords. Learn those ones where you have to stretch your pinky out super far while barring the low F.

Sorry, I used to play guitar and a metaphor slipped through.

Free photography education...

Tony & Chelsea 7 Hour Course Karl Taylor Free Introduction to Photography

[karlachismylife]

Spot on the Mark || The Queen of the Clan pt.5

CW: fem!chubby!reader, mentions of animal marking/pasting, some piss mentioned again, dead animal mentioned (no descriptions).

A lot more work goes into a wildlife documentary than you thought. It was obvious that it’s not as simple as just grabbing good quality cameras and riding off into savannah blindly, but the amount of tricks and different ways to get enough shots for a compelling and educational storyline you’re learning about seems infinite: from studying animals’ trails and routes of migration to hauling senior operators up into the trees to film fluffy and feathered stars of the future documentary as up close as possible without disturbing their natural peace.

These people have done it time and time again, telling you about the months-long stakeouts on bigger productions, the ones that can afford to simply wait every day for an animal to come and do what the script requires; the masking of carefully placed hides that can still be not enough to trick a smart bird into thinking it was all alone and perform a beautiful mating dance; the difficult hikes that test everyone’s endurance and result in barely ten seconds of footage in the end cut. You can’t help but feel excited yet intimidated when your turn comes to participate in one such trick, intended to shorten the waiting time your smaller production just can’t afford.  It’s not that difficult, but it’s smart and elegant – at least in your opinion.

This is how you find yourself stuck in your Rover with Kir, wrapped in a small blanket for additional warmth, while he meddles with the sound equipment: speakers mounted on the hood of the car and a knot of wires connecting them to a laptop, screen covered up with a scarf to muffle its light. You’re holding your night vision camera pointed at a spot just several meters ahead, a fresh carcass placed under a tree to attract a carnivore, two more cameras planted at different angles on the ground and one more strapped to a branch right above the “dining table”.

A switch clicks, and the night fills with triumphant hyena whooping, a whole cacophony of different voices celebrating a kill. This is a dinner bell for lions – no matter what the public’s perception is, it’s often the big cats coming to steal hyenas’ fresh kills, not the other way around. You hold your breath, misty clouds of steam coming out of your mouth dissipating in the loud, poorly lit night. You wait.

Time doesn’t stretch as much as you would think. This isn’t a boring, monotonous wait of a text back in a stuffy big city apartment, the only “wildlife” sounds seeping through the closed windows – revving engines of nighttime dumbass street racers or neighbours yelling at each other over hysterically loud TV.

Compared to what you’re used to, savannah seems peaceful. Somewhere in the vast darkness big predators avoid each other’s paths, unwilling to start unnecessary fights. Grass rustles in a rhythmic pattern as little springhares jump through the night, stopping to glance at the huge, imposing shadow of a human car just once and continuing on their way. The wind breathes quietly and calmly with the cooling ground, welcoming a lively picture of a complex system, each part of which is perfectly in tune with others.

You feel like you could be a part of it – like it’s a place you can actually belong to, care for and be taken care of in return, unlike the constant hectic hostility of a city. They call it concrete jungles, but none of the brutal ways of nature you’ve witnessed in the wild so far can compare to the ruthless, pointless cruelty human kind inflicts on itself and everyone else.

There is a hopefulness inside you that was completely snuffed out previously, and it sounds like a smooth, lulling chirping of insects hidden in the wet grass.

Loud baboon yelling alerts you before you manage to clock any movement or hear an animal approaching your little spectacle. Insane luck. Before gluing yourself to the camera, you glance at the time and it’s barely an hour after you put the recording on – it’s hard to contain your excitement, but you manage to keep your hands steady as you scope the area in search of your guest. Kir shifts in his seat next to you, picking up his simple night vision binoculars and following the same trajectory as your camera lens.

When you see a distinctive hunched silhouette sniffing at the bait, you almost feel the tiniest bit of disappointment – no lions today, huh? – that quickly gets replaced with surprise.

The hyena doesn’t even touch the food you placed to lure animals in and turns its back on it, instead staring straight at you and Kir. Its ears twitch, clearly determining the direction where other hyenas’ noises are coming from, and slowly, almost leisurely, it moves towards you.

“It’s coming here, Kir,” you whisper, still keeping the camera rolling, too fascinated with the elegance of each silent step the huge, dark form with devilishly glowing eyes in your night vision tape takes. “Didn’t even try the meat… what do we do?”

“Ah, shit, that’s a first one.” He sounds more surprised than concerned, and after a moment of hesitation, reaches out to turn the luring sounds off. “Maybe it’s already killed and got territorial? Worst case scenario, we just scare it away. You getting the footage?”

“I… am, yeah… it’s pretty.” Somehow you aren’t even surprised anymore, when the hyena ignores the fact that the calls of its peers or more likely rivals stop abruptly – there’s something deeply wrong with them here, you decide, too much human contact or something. Maybe these ones were released from the sanctuary? But no one in their right mind would let such domesticated animals back into the wild, right?

While the myriad of possibilities swarms your mind, the camera keeps recording, and you, quite well-trained already, don’t even seem to realize that you’re following the hyena’s steps, turning the camera more and more to the side as the animal approaches your Rover. Wait-

“Tsk, hold up!” Kir’s hand hooks into your back belt loop and pulls you slightly back into the car. When did you even stand up to lean over the car door? “Let’s not diversify its diet today with soft city cookies, alright?”

“Sorry, sorry,” you whisper, sitting back down. For a moment – just a moment – you lose the animal out of sight while you pull your pants back up, and the next thing you know it’s already right in front of you.

Standing on its short hind legs and resting front paws on the car side to lean inside.

A big snout shoved almost into your face, coming into your darkness-shortened sight out of nowhere, is bound to freak you out – you drop your camera, luckily catching it in your lap, and pull back, pressing your back into Kir, who can only grunt quietly under the sudden weight and grip your shoulders protectively.

The hyena just snorts and tilts is head adorably, a soft, almost reproachful look in its bit wet eyes reflecting every little light on the car’s dashboard and your equipment. There’s something familiar to this slender, elegant snout, nodding in the air as the big nose takes in your scent, toned down by the contrasting savannah night cold.

“Chocolate?.. Is that you?” It’s a wild guess, honestly – you can’t see shit without your camera, only able to notice the hyena’s movements by the wet glistening of its eyes, nose and lips, and even through the night vision equipment you weren’t able to determine your guest’s colour – something that would definitely help distinguish Chocolate from any other hyenas; you doubt there are any others, who are already this big and grown up, yet still carry their childish dark brown hide. Maybe Chocolate is a melanistic variant? You’ve never heard of such mutations in spotted hyenas, but it’s not like you specialize in them, right?

A soft grunt tears through your thoughts again, a non-threatening pitch that almost sounds like purring – along with the repeated scratching of its claws on the steel side of your Rover, Chocolate seems like a cat more than anything. A huge, maned cat asking to be let inside.

“No-no-no, buddy, you’re not coming into the car. It’s humans only.” You try to sound stern – it seems to work on these animals, but it’s so damn hard, when your visitor whines quietly and flutters its rounded ears, staring at you hypnotically. “Come on, there’s food. Look!”

A nod in the direction of the carcass, attracting no one but some flies it seems, has no effect on the hyena. When you pretend to throw something there, Chocolate giggles quietly and lowers itself back on the ground – but when it realizes you won’t be throwing any of your real possessions for it to chase after, it stands up against, reaching its long, thick-furred neck to breathe a hot, steamy snort into your face.

And just like that, after you blink at the pretty muzzle in disbelief, trying to find an appropriate way to react to a wild, dangerous animal almost sneezing in your face, it leaves to inspect your car.

For a moment, you worry it’ll try and jump inside from the back, but it seems to have lost any interest to join a party it wasn’t invited to. Slowly, you scramble back into your seat, relieving Kir of your weight and earning a supportive pat on the back from him, and pick up your camera to watch Chocolate.

“What’s it doing?” Kir’s whisper suddenly elicits more of a reaction from the hyena than any of your stern talking – it lifts its head from the tire it was sniffing at and scowls, a striking killer smile flashing in your direction. Seeing its sharp canines nestled in the massive jaws makes a cold shiver run down your spine. This just was right in front of your face with nothing to protect you against a sudden attack.

“Shh, quiet… don’t agitate it,” you whisper back as soon as you manage to swallow the snowball-like lump in your throat. Kir shuts up, clearly a full-on believer in your hyena whisperer abilities now, and you watch on as Chocolate lowers its cute head back, sniffing and pawing at your tire.

After several minutes of looking between you and the wheel, sniffs and huffs growing more and more impatient and exasperated, it gives up on whatever it was trying to tell you – you could swear it rolls its eyes too! – and circles your car, flicking the fluffy brush on the end of its tail in what you can only assume to be a goodbye.

You’re wrong. A real goodbye is left a few meters away from the Rover on Kir’s side. Your curious night visitor stops abruptly, sniffs the air, tilting its head so far back that it almost rests on its shoulder blades, and then, without a warning – what warning could you expect though? – it crouches down to paste over a particular spot in the tall grass.

“Is that?..” – “Yes.” You tear yourself away from the camera to glance at Kir, just in time to see him sigh heavily and put his binoculars down, rubbing his hand down his face painted with disbelief, eyebrows raised high and lips pressed together. You’re still not sure – even though little snickers already start escaping your throat and roll down your nose in sweet snorts – so you pry again: “The spot where you went to-“ – “Yes.”

Even the need to hold your camera still to capture Chocolate marking its territory with a thick smelly paste smeared all over the grass Kir went to pee in several hours ago can’t prevent you from giggling. Anxious about scaring the animal and provoking it, you cover your own mouth and keep filming – eyes on the little black and white picture just in time to see Chocolate shake its plush butt, tail high up to assert dominance, and turn to look at you.

Or, perhaps, to look at Kir.

“Okay, okay, got it, no pissing on your territory. Jeez, buddy, no need to be so petty about it, I probably live here as long as you do.” Hearing Kir mutter under his nose as he gets stared down by a proud carnivore is hilarious.

“You disrespected it. What’s it like, to have a sworn enemy because of your bladder?” Your little giggles elicit two smiles at the same time – an embarrassed one from Kir, who threatens to snore into your ear directly once you wrap up this nightly stakeout, and another wide, toothy one from Chocolate.

You can’t be sure with the blurry image your camera shows you, but you once again feel like it winks at you. How likely is it for this hyena to have some eye problems that cause it to constantly dish out the flirtiest winks an animal is capable of?

“Oh, look, it’s leaving,” Kir finally turns away from the direction Chocolate left in, and just scoffs when you hear distant whooping slowly pick up in frequency before it disappears into the night. “Wanna try with the record again? I’m not sure we will attract anyone if there are actual hyenas around, though.”

“No, no, let’s try again,” you’re fully energized despite your arms feeling cold because the blanket slipped off your shoulders when you got spooked by Chocolate. Kir pulls it back up, wrapping you in a warm cocoon, and rubs your shoulder absentmindedly while he rewinds the recording and tries slightly different settings. “Maybe we’ll attract Stinky at least, these two seem to be buddies.”

“Yeah, right,” he responds, wrapping his own jacket tighter around himself. “Because that little shit will cause less chaos that the one we just saw.”

You can’t argue with that. If that was Stinky that came to the false call, it would have definitely jumped into the back of your Rover.

“At least that’s some good footage to post online. They’re cute. Will be good promo for the documentary.”

Kir grumbles something into the warm thermos, steam clouding the air between you, and hands it to you – to warm both your hands and your whole body from the inside.

Even if you don’t catch a lion tonight, you still caught something precious – right in your heart. You just have to find a way to define it properly.

Part 4 | Part 6

Series masterlist | Main masterlist

Tagging: @elaineiswithyou-blog @creepingeva @my-halo-is-a-little-broken @sillymanjaro @ihatethinkingofnames10 @ravensfeatheruniverse @yaminax @ljh861 @darkangel4121 @ginger-n-coco @grey-shadow6475 @cryingpages @mothsdrabbles @mc-glare-is-king @vixxie22 @aldis-nuts @terraantarctica @henhouse-horrors @blizzivy @perfectus-in-morte

Here's an illustration to Chocolate's visit:

Comrades, I think I'm too deep in this now, I started watching documentaries about filming documentaries, the docuseption is coming for me...

[diamonddaze01]

STORM'S EDGE

⚡︎ PAIRING: httyd! jeonghan x fem! reader | ⚡︎ WC: 1.7K ⚡︎ A/N: check out the rest of ASH AND AETHER if you want more httyd! jeonghan

It was supposed to be a normal patrol flight.

A scout had spotted something unusual on the horizon—a flicker of movement beyond the eastern cliffs, there one moment and gone the next. It could’ve been anything: a stray ship, a migrating sea beast, just a trick of the light. But Jeonghan, ever the proactive chief, wasn’t one to let things slide.

“We’ll check it out,” he’d said, already mounting Luma before you even had a chance to argue. “You’re coming with me.”

You hadn’t even finished tying your boots before he was tugging you onto Nox’s saddle. Not that you minded. You’d always been one step behind Jeonghan, a presence at his side whether in battle, at meetings, or on these spontaneous flights. You were his second-in-command first, his girlfriend second.

He made it hard to separate the two.

The sky stretched wide and endless above you, the late afternoon sun washing everything in golden hues. Below, the sea rippled in waves of molten silver, the wind carrying the scent of salt and damp earth from the cliffs. It was peaceful, for once.

“You know,” you called over the wind, tilting your head toward him, “for someone who preaches strategy, you’re really impulsive.”

Jeonghan smirked, adjusting his grip on Luma’s reins. “I call it efficient.”

“I call it reckless.”

“Reckless was when you set the training fields on fire last month.”

You rolled your eyes, nudging your dragon closer to his. “That was an accident.”

“You let Jun pour a barrel of oil over the targets and then thought it was a good idea to test fire arrows.”

“Again—an accident.”

Jeonghan chuckled, shaking his head. “Chief instincts tell me otherwise.”

“Chief instincts? You mean that little voice in your head that tells you you’re always right?”

He grinned. “Exactly.”

You scoffed, but the warmth in your chest was undeniable. These flights had always been your favorite moments—where it was just the two of you, the sky, and the dragons, no weight of responsibility pressing down. For a little while, it was easy to pretend that things were simple.

And then the storm rolled in.

The first gust of wind nearly knocked the air from your lungs. It came out of nowhere, swallowing the sky in an instant. One moment, there had been blue stretching far and wide, the sea below calm and endless. The next, the horizon was gone, smothered in thick clouds that curled like ink spills across the heavens.

Wind howled, lashing against you like a beast with untamed claws, and rain pelted down in sheets, drenching your furs in an instant. Your grip on the saddle tightened as Nox struggled against the storm’s fury, wings beating frantically to keep you aloft.

Jeonghan’s posture shifted immediately. His easy confidence snapped into something sharper, tenser. “We need to land—now.”

You gritted your teeth, Nox’s wings straining against the storm’s force. “We’re too close to turn back now!”

“You think we can keep flying in this?” His voice was sharp, but not panicked. Jeonghan never panicked. He just pushed forward, made decisions, expected you to follow.

You locked eyes with him through the downpour, the rain lashing against your skin like tiny knives. He wanted to play it safe. For once.

You didn’t.

“I can see a clearing ahead,” you called over the wind, pointing past the jagged cliffs. It wasn’t much—just a sliver of rocky terrain cutting through the fog—but it was enough. If you could make it past the worst of the storm, you wouldn’t have to land.

Jeonghan’s expression hardened. “That’s too far. We won’t make it.”

You shot him a grin, reckless and wild. “You underestimate me, Chief.”

Then, before he could stop you, you urged Nox forward—straight into the thick of the storm.

The wind screamed, nearly wrenching you sideways. Nox faltered for half a beat, wings catching an unpredictable current, before correcting himself. Every muscle in your body tensed as you fought against the storm’s wrath, fingers locked onto the saddle’s grip, breath coming in sharp bursts. Rain blurred your vision, the world reduced to a whirlwind of gray and black.

Then, suddenly, he was there, pulling up alongside you, his eyes blazing with something furious.

“Dammit—” He pulled up alongside you, his movements tighter, more controlled. His frustration burned through the storm’s cold, visible even through the sheets of rain. He was keeping pace, but barely. “You’re going to get yourself killed!”

“Not if we move fast!” You yelled back. “We can still—” 

You didn’t have time to finish the sentence before the sky cracked open. A violent gust of wind roared through the canyon, shoving against both your dragons with the force of a tidal wave. Your stomach lurched as you felt Nox’s balance slip.

No. No, no, no—

Nox let out a sharp cry, wings folding in slightly to regain control, but it was too late. The wind had already sent you plummeting.

“Damn it—” Jeonghan veered toward you, Luma’s wings cutting through the rain as he reached for you—too far, too fast—

Nox fought against gravity, twisting, wings snapping open at the last second. The impact hit like a hammer as you broke through the lower clouds, narrowly missing the rocky cliffs below. You gasped, heart hammering against your ribs. Your dragon righted himself, breathing hard, sides heaving.

Jeonghan was already pulling ahead, motioning frantically toward a cave nestled at the cliffside. No more time for reckless flights.

This time, you didn’t argue.

You landed hard, sliding off your dragon before your legs could properly catch you. Your knees nearly buckled, but you caught yourself, breath still coming too fast. Your dragon shook out her wings, letting out a low, exhausted huff.

You barely had time to process before Jeonghan was in front of you, shoving his soaked hood back, fury carved into every inch of him.

“What the hell was that?”

You yanked off your gloves and threw them to the ground, not even bothering to shake out your dripping sleeves. “You tell me! You’re the one who wanted to come out here in the first place!”

“I wasn’t the one who flew straight into the worst part of the storm!” He took a step closer, close enough that you could see the rain trailing down his face, sticking to his lashes. “Do you have any idea how easily that could’ve gone wrong?”

“It didn’t,” you shot back, voice sharp. “Because I knew what I was doing.”

He let out a laugh, short and humorless. “Really? Because from where I was flying, it looked a hell of a lot like you were falling.”

Your hands curled into fists at your sides. “You’re acting like I haven’t been flying my whole life, Jeonghan.”

“You nearly crashed—”

“You wanted to land, Jeonghan! If we’d done that, we would’ve been stranded out in the open—”

“We could’ve waited it out instead of nearly crashing into the sea!” His voice was sharp, raw with frustration. “You don’t think, you just act!”

Your jaw clenched. “You’re calling me reckless? This was your idea, remember? I didn’t drag us out here on some half-baked whim—you did.”

Jeonghan ran a hand through his soaked hair, shaking his head. “This isn’t about the patrol anymore.”

Something in your chest tightened. “Then what is this about?”

He exhaled sharply, like he wasn’t sure if he should say it. “You never listen.” His voice wasn’t loud this time. Just tired. “Every time I try to keep you safe, you fight me. Every. Single. Time.”

You let out a short, bitter laugh. “Oh, I’m sorry—did I ruin your perfect plan? Maybe I should’ve just sat back and let you make all the decisions like you always do.”

“That’s not what I—”

“Because that’s what this is about, isn’t it?” You stepped closer, voice cutting through the space between you. “It’s not about keeping me safe, it’s about control. You want me to follow orders, like everyone else does. Why? Because you’re the chief?”

Jeonghan stared at you, rain trailing down his cheekbones. His fists clenched at his sides. “Because it’s my job to keep you safe.”

The words landed between you like a drawn sword.

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. “I’m not some helpless villager, Jeonghan. I’m your second-in-command. Or did you forget that?”

His jaw tensed, lips pressing into a thin line. “I didn’t forget.”

“Then stop acting like I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Silence thickened around you, the storm’s echoes distant now, muffled by the cave walls. The only sound between you was your heavy breathing, the lingering anger still crackling in the space where your argument had been.

Jeonghan stared at you, something unspoken thrumming behind his eyes. His fists clenched at his sides, chest still rising and falling too fast, too uneven.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” His voice was lower now, rougher, each word carved out of something raw. “I—”

Then he moved.

A sharp inhale was all you managed before his hands were on you, fingers curling into the damp fabric at your waist, pulling you forward with a force that left no room for hesitation. His lips crashed against yours, urgent, desperate, like he was trying to prove something neither of you could ever put into words.

You gasped against him, but your hands found him just as fiercely, gripping onto his tunic like it was the only thing keeping you tethered. His body was warm, feverish, despite the cold seeping into your bones. The kiss was messy—rain-slicked skin, clashing breath, the lingering taste of salt from the storm—but you drank it in like a woman starved.

Jeonghan broke away just enough to rest his forehead against yours, breath hot, unsteady. His hands still held you like he didn’t trust himself to let go.

“I can’t—” His voice was hoarse. “I can’t watch you risk yourself like that.”

Your fingers curled against the back of his neck, grounding him. “And I can’t watch you do it either.”

He let out something between a sigh and a laugh, shaking his head slightly before pressing another, softer kiss to your lips. Slower, this time.

No more words. Just the quiet hum of breath shared, the way his touch lingered even as the storm raged on outside.

[five-rivers]

providence 2

[Based on prompts by @ash-rabbit @lexiepiper and @kinglazrus! Big thank you to @jackdaw-sprite, Lexie, and @datawyrms for beta. Read the full fic here.]

“You should just ask him,” said Sam.  

Danny flipped over in the air to stare at her.  “No, I shouldn't!  I shouldn't have asked him what I did ask–”

“It doesn't sound like you asked him much of anything,” said Tucker. 

“--I mean, what if it's what killed him, and that's why he was hiding it?” 

“I thought your current theory was that other Danny merging with him somehow merged his scars with Clockwork's scars,” said Sam.  

“That was a theory,” corrected Danny.  A chill from his ghost sense passed through him, and he righted himself in time to gently guide a swarm of blob ghosts into the phase-proof mesh butterfly net he'd been gesturing with.  

Over the past few days, blob ghosts had started a sort of migration.  Most of them stayed in the Ghost Zone, moving in enormous clouds, but some slipped through the portal and got lost.  With ghost hunting back in full swing, Amity Park wasn't safe for even the most harmless of ghosts, so Team Phantom was trying to catch them first.  

Emphasis on trying.

Blob ghosts (this type, anyway, not whatever Skulker was) were weak and usually docile.  The problem was, there were so many of them that the thermos by itself wasn't enough.  Sure, the beam would scoop them up readily enough, but the rest of the swarm would scatter in all directions, often invisible and intangible, becoming nearly impossible to find, let alone catch.   

The nets, while they wouldn’t have worked for any other ghosts, didn’t scare the blobs, and once they were in the nets they were easy to scoop up in the thermos.  However, nets were a much closer-range tool than the thermos, and getting close was its own problem.  Sam, Tucker, and Jazz couldn’t fly.  The blob ghosts, obviously, could.

But blob ghosts were attracted to heightened emotions.  Which made sense.  All ghosts could feed on emotions.  Even Danny, although he, like other more complex ghosts, could feed on his own emotions.  Hence the purposefully emotional conversation.  

“He said it wasn’t your fault, though, didn’t he?” asked Tucker.  He and Sam were wearing an abbreviated set of ‘standard’ ghost hunting gear, goggles, gloves, belts, concealing anti-ecto medical masks, and hoodies, so that they could fake being normal ghost hunters, if they had to.

“But he also said that, uh, other Danny wasn’t me, and what he did wasn’t my fault, which sort of means that it is because of him, doesn’t it?  Which means that it is my fault.”  He collected the last of the blob ghost swarm and swooped down to Tucker, so he could suck them into the thermos.

“Him saying that it isn’t your fault means that it is?” asked Tucker.

“Okay, maybe not my fault,” clarified Danny.  “The other thing. You know.   My responsibility.”

“But if that’s where it came from, Clockwork couldn’t have died from it, right?” asked Sam, reasonably.  “He was already a ghost when other Danny possessed him.”

“Okay, yeah, that’s why it’s my other theory.  I can have more than one theory.  It doesn’t matter if they’re contradictory.  I’ve just got to figure out how to test them and get rid of the ones that are disproven.  That’s science.”  His ghost sense went off again, and Danny flew upward to survey the surrounding streets.  

He thought he saw a flash of something round and green, but it disappeared as soon as he flew closer.  He sighed.  

“Nothing,” he said, returning. 

“I think you might have a skewed idea of what science is,” said Tucker.  

“And where it can be applied,” added Sam.  

“It can totally be applied here.  And my theories are completely valid.”

“I’m not sure I completely understand the one where you think it killed him?” said Tucker.  

“Okay, well,” said Danny, “when someone is hit in the head by lightning, they die.”

“Roy Sullivan didn’t,” said Tucker.  

“Who?”

“A guy who got hit by lightning seven times.  None of them killed him.  And he fought bears.”

“That’s not real,” said Sam.  “That’s not a real thing.”

“It is,” said Tucker.  “He’s the world record holder.”

“Usually getting hit in the head by lightning kills you,” said Danny.  “It’s electricity.  Electricity kills people.”

“But then why didn’t it look like a lightning scar the whole time?” asked Tucker, reasonably.  

“Because who’d want to look at a reminder of the thing that killed them every time they looked in a mirror?” asked Danny.  “He’s a shapeshifter.  He was hiding it.  And now that he’s– He’s hurt, or his power is gone, or whatever, he can’t hide it anymore.”

“His shapeshifting is pretty specific, though, isn’t it?”  Tucker’s eyes flicked down to his PDA.  “Incoming hunters.  Parsley and Overlook.”

Danny grabbed them under the arms and lifted off, turning intangible and passing through several buildings on the way to safer streets.  “Not Mom and Dad?”

“Nope.” 

“They’ll probably follow traffic laws, then.”  Danny set them down.  

“Yeah,” said Tucker, checking his PDA again.  “It’ll probably be a while before they start to look for us over here.  But I doubt we have much more than an hour before enough hunters are out that we won’t be able to avoid them.”

Danny made a face.  “There’s no way we’re going to catch all the blobs before then.”

“We can pretend to be hunters again,” said Sam.  They’d used the tactic a few times to get ghosts away from the new crop of hunters.  Most of them didn’t want to fight other people, even for the ‘rights’ to a ghost.  “That’s why we’re wearing this stuff.”

Danny nodded.  “I guess we’d better start again, then.”  He spread his arms wide and floated back.  “Hit me with your best shot?”

“You have any more theories, Wes Weston?” asked Tucker.  

“Ow,” said Danny.  “I mean, I guess it could be something else that’s happened since I’d last seen him, but that’d be a huge coincidence, wouldn’t it?”

“As opposed to the coincidences that somehow make it both your fault and a horrible imposition to Clockwork?” asked Sam.  “For all you know, it could be, like, ghost acne.”

“Just ghost acne?  You mean, the thing that half killed Vlad and put you in quarantine?”

“Bad analogy,” admitted Sam.  They started walking again.  “But it could be something normal that he’s just embarrassed about, or an attack from another ghost or something.  That he’s also embarrassed about.  Heck, it could just be a bad attempt at glamour makeup.”

“Pretty sure Clockwork doesn’t wear makeup,” said Danny.  

“That you know of.”

“Yeah,” chimed in Tucker.  “He could’ve just come from a drag show or something.”

“I– What?”

“It was the silliest thing I could think of,” said Tucker.  

“Okay,” said Danny, before darting off to catch another small swarm in his butterfly net.  “I’d just feel a lot better about all of it if I could help him.”

“So, why don’t you?” asked Sam.  

“I asked him if I could help, and he basically ignored it.  I don’t think he wants to see me.”

“Isn’t being able to get to his tower in the first place basically a standing invitation, because of the weird time stuff?”

“Maybe.  He might not be able to hide it anymore, with his powers damaged.  I didn’t ask.”

“Okay, well,” said Sam, “believe it or not, I actually got this advice from my parents, but a lot of people who need help don’t like to ask for it, so sometimes it’s better to just show up and find something to do, or with something to help.  It doesn’t have to be a big thing.  Like, when Mom was talking about this, it was about giving casseroles to widows.”

“Does that work?” asked Danny, dubiously.  

“We’re on patrol with you, aren’t we?” asked Sam.  “You said his place was full of rubble, right?  Maybe you could sweep that up.  It won’t solve any of the real problems with time, but it’d be a job he didn’t have to do, right?  And his house would be clean.  Cleaner.”

“That… might work,” said Danny.  “If I was careful not to touch any weird time stuff.”

“There you go, then.  Which means…”  She turned an evil grin on Tucker, “it’s your turn to have a heartfelt conversation.”

Tucker groaned.  “Come on, I don’t have nearly as much drama with my parental figures as you two do.”

“Then find some other drama,” said Sam, mercilessly as Danny sputtered that Clockwork was not his parental figure, “didn’t you try to ask Tiffanie out the other day?”

Tucker groaned again, and Danny’s ghost sense went off.  

.

Danny couldn’t visit Clockwork every day, or even on a regular day every week.  The timing of his trips to the Ghost Zone was based on opportunism.  He had to pick times when he wouldn’t be missed too much by his parents, when he wasn’t in school, and when Amity Park wasn’t under attack.  Plus, he still had to pass his classes, make sure no one was being dissected, hang out with Sam and Tucker, and sleep.

It was a lot.  

When he did get into the Ghost Zone, there was always a lot to do there, too.  Jazz wanted him to visit the Far Frozen more regularly, because Frostbite was a doctor who Danny could actually go to.  Johnny, Kitty, and Youngblood would derail any plans he had if he ran into them.  So would Walker, but for different reasons.  Danny wanted to track down Wulf at some point.  Also, Danny was still trying to map out the immediate area around the portal, which wasn’t exactly easy, since it moved.  

So, it was over a week before Danny could begin to put Sam’s advice into effect.  In that time he’d talked himself in and out of doing it multiple times.  Which was silly.  He hadn’t been this indecisive about anything since cheating on the CAT.  Clockwork liked him, or at least consistently tolerated him, and what was the worst that could happen, anyway?

His brain loyally conjured up half a dozen worst case scenarios.

Stupid brain.  

He floated outside the tower, eyeing the rubble.  He’d start here.  The stuff just floating around randomly outside probably wasn’t all that important, and dealing with it first would give Clockwork the chance to tell him to knock it off if he really didn’t want Danny’s help.  

First, he’d have to find places to put stuff.  He wasn’t sure if pushing things together into floating piles would work.  Maybe the bigger chunks would work like islands and have their own gravity?  He’d have to test that.  

Then, he’d have to start sorting.  He could see stuff that looked like chunks of masonry, bits of twisted metal, whole gears, fragments of glass, and splintery lengths of wood.  He absolutely wouldn’t throw anything out.  He’d learned that lesson from cleaning out the lab.  There was no way of telling if a particular slab of innocuous rock was secretly the power source for some doomsday device somewhere.

Once he had the skies clear out here, he’d move on into the entryway and the halls.  

That sounded like a plan.  

He got to work.  

It turned out that the bigger pieces of rubble would stick together, if only loosely, so Danny pushed a few of those out of what he considered to be the main paths around and to the tower, and used them as the nuclei of his piles.  He dumped armfuls of smaller rocks and other junk on them, and they got larger bit by bit.  

(It wasn’t, quite, accretion.  It wasn’t the way the planets formed.  But it was… adjacent.  Artificial accretion?  Was that a thing?)

But as he worked he started to feel like he was being watched.  It was an itch on the back of his head and in-between his shoulderblades, but every time he scanned the tower, hoping to find Clockwork in the shadows, he saw nothing.  The feeling persisted, and Danny decided that he must be watching through a time viewer or something similar.  Any of his enemies or ‘rogues’ would have made themselves known by now.  Even Vlad wasn’t all that subtle, unless he was using his little spy bugs (which hilariously didn’t work for more than thirty minutes in the Ghost Zone).  

It still made him uneasy.  

He dropped one more armload of rocks into the planet-pile, and surveyed his work.  It… wasn’t all that impressive, actually, but he’d been working on it for an hour, so… It’d have to do.  He wanted to say hi to Clockwork and make sure he was, well, aware of what Danny was doing. 

He definitely was, given the whole ‘I know what you’re doing before you do it’ thing he had going on, but Danny just wanted to check.  He flew down to the door, and almost ran into a strange ghost exiting.  

The ghost wasn’t large, by ghost standards, only a little longer than Danny himself, and their body plan seemed to be a fairly standard humanoid upper half with a ghostly tail.  However, instead of a normal head, a single giant eye rested on their sloped shoulders.  

They looked Danny up and down, their great eye narrowing slightly, but then they flew off without another word.  Danny watched them go for a minute, but then turned back to the doorway and slipped through.  

Only to run into Clockwork.  

“Augh!  Sorry,” said Danny, backing up and rubbing his nose.  He looked up.

Clockwork was wearing an eyepatch.  It didn’t cover the branching scar that now wound down his neck and up into his hairline.  

“So,” said Danny, “um.”  He hadn’t planned this conversation out at all, and most of his brainpower was occupied by not staring.  “Who was that, just now?  A friend?”

Clockwork made a complicated face, made all the more difficult to interpret because it was covered up.  “I can say nothing against them.”

In Clockwork language, that was basically equivalent to saying they were soulmates.  Clockwork took a lot of pride in his snark and he snarked about everything.  Not always in a straightforward way, sure, but where Danny was an apprentice in the art, Clockwork was a master.  

While Danny was still processing, Clockwork put his hand on Danny’s shoulder and squeezed lightly.  “All analogies have their limits,” he said.  “If time is a parade, then who are the marchers and marshals?  If it is a river, then why does it flow apart, and not together?  If it is a wheel, then why do events not repeat with regularity?”

He seemed to want an answer.  “Because it isn’t any of those things?”

Clockwork nodded, then drew Danny closer into a loose not-quite hug.  “Nor is it a lightning bolt.”  

Danny suppressed a shudder at the mention of electricity, and leaned his head against Clockwork’s chest.  He could hear it ticking, and the pendulum within the glass case flashed in the corner of his eye.  

“These things are still used,” stressed Clockwork.  “We all make the choices we can.”

The last bit was added quietly, as an afterthought, and Danny twisted to look up at him.  Clockwork looked… tired.  He was in his middle-aged form, but he looked older than Danny had ever seen him before.  

Clockwork pulled away with a sigh and patted Danny’s head.  “You are going to be late.”

“It’s the middle of the night?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

He’d probably wind up oversleeping, then.  It was awfully unlike Clockwork to warn him about that.  

“Goodbye, Daniel,” he said.  “Be… safe.”

Well, that was ominous.

.

Danny was being watched again.  This time, midway through his flight home, he was less certain that it was Clockwork.  He kept flying, anyway, unsure if he should try to confront whoever or whatever it was, or if he should try and pull a counter-ambush– Assuming the person watching him would attack.  

He realized he was slightly off course, and banked, correcting his path.  As he did so, a ghost, sheltering in the shadow of an island, came into sight.  The same ghost Danny had seen leaving Clockwork's tower.

That was strange.  

Danny stopped several meters away, cautious.  They might have been Clockwork’s friend or acquaintance or whatever, but most of Danny’s ghost friendships had started off with getting the crap beaten out of him.  “You want to eye-dentify yourself?”

So that was what an eyeball ghost looked like when they were annoyed.  Cool.  You learned something new every day.

“I,” said the eyeball ghost.  They paused, glaring, when Danny muffled a laugh.  

Yeah, Danny knew he shouldn’t do that, but it was how he interacted with ninety percent of other ghosts.  Sue him.  

“Members of my order do not use personal names,” said the ghost, rather pompously.  “I am an Observant, a watcher of time.  You are Phantom.”

Danny nodded in confirmation, even though that felt more like a statement than a question.

“You are… attempting to aid the timekeeper.”

“Yes?” said Danny, not at all sure where this was going.  

“He is a stubborn creature, unwilling to accept aid even from us, though we have long worked together.  But he accepts aid from you.”

“Sort of,” said Danny.  He hadn’t explicitly or implicitly rejected Danny’s help, anyway.

“We have an interest in maintaining the timeline, as he does.  But we are limited in what we may do.  Would you, Phantom, help us help him?”

[dxrlingluv]

If it's not too awkward to ask but like Platonic Aeolus x Reader friendship headcanons?

Clouds

A/N : Hello just wanna say that I am NOT good at doing head-cannons so I guess that should be a warning. Also I know Aeolus’s voice actor is a girl but they are a male based on Greek Mythology so to avoid confusion, I made them gender neutral. Aeolus design is from Gigi!

WARNING : Platonic!GN!Aeolus, No specific gender for reader. Just fluff.

Word Count : 617

• Aeolus loves to present you with a "gift," a swirling vortex of iridescent mist contained in a ridiculously ornate jar. They insists it's "a concentrated essence of pure, unadulterated joy!" You eye it suspiciously, remembering the last time they used the word "joy."

• Sure enough, the moment you open it, the mist escapes, engulfing you in a cloud of shimmering particles that transform your hair into a gravity-defying, rainbow-colored afro. They watch the whole thing with a mischievous grin, clapping his hands together and declaring it "a masterpiece of ephemeral artistry!" You spend the next week trying to explain your new hairstyle to the other deities.

• They’re constantly devising elaborate "challenges" for your amusement (and, you suspect, their own). One day it's a riddle-off with a sphinx (who, it turns out, is surprisingly good at puns), the next it's a breath-holding contest in a cloud of pure helium (which results in you talking in a squeaky voice for hours), and then there's the time they challenged you to a staring contest... with a cyclops. They always frames these as "opportunities for growth" or "tests of character," but you're pretty sure they just enjoy watching you squirm.

• Aeolus insists you be their audience for his theatrical performances. They’ll drag you to the highest cloud, strike a dramatic pose against the sunset, and deliver booming monologues to passing weather patterns. Their favorite line, "Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer," is delivered with maximum gravitas, complete with dramatic hand gestures and a voice that echoes across the heavens. They even try to incorporate interpretive dance, which mostly involves a lot of arm-waving and dramatic swaying, much to the bewilderment of the aforementioned clouds.

• Aeolus introduces you to their personal retinue of cloud spirits. They're... enthusiastic doesn't even begin to cover it. They follow you around like fluffy, overeager puppies, offering unsolicited advice on everything from your fashion choices to your love life. They try to braid your hair out of mist (with limited success), attempt to teach you how to "ride the thermals" (which mostly involves being tossed around like a rag doll), and are generally just very, very present, all the time.

• Aeolus once invited you to watch Odysseus's ship sail away, a strangely contemplative expression on their face as the vessel shrinks on the horizon. For a moment, they’re uncharacteristically quiet, lost in thought. Then, they suddenly bursts into laughter, a loud, booming sound that startles a flock of migrating birds. "Off they go!" they exclaimed, clapping you on the back. "With my little... present! I wonder how long it will take them to open it?" Aeolus winks, a mischievous glint in their eye, and you can't help but shake your head at their antics.

• The pranks. It starts innocently enough, with a few harmless gusts of wind rearranging your carefully placed belongings. But it quickly escalates into a full-blown prank war, a battle of wits and weather manipulation. You retaliate by subtly altering the wind patterns around their favorite lounging cloud, making it wobble precariously. They respond by creating a small, localized rainstorm that follows you wherever you go. The other deities watch with a mixture of amusement and concern as the heavens become a chaotic playground for your escalating pranks.

• Despite his playful exterior, Aeolus sometimes reveals a surprising depth. They might confide in you about the burden of their responsibilities, the loneliness of being a god of the winds, or his secret desire to write poetry (which, you discover, is surprisingly terrible). These moments of vulnerability are rare, but they offer a glimpse into the complex being beneath the mischievous facade, and they strengthen the bond of your unlikely friendship.

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

Mapping the Tiny Plankton That Feed Giant Right Whales

In the waters off New England, one of Earth’s rarest mammals swims slowly, mouth agape. The North Atlantic right whale filters clouds of tiny reddish zooplankton—called Calanus finmarchicus—from the sea. These zooplankton, no bigger than grains of rice, are the whale’s lifeline. Only about 370 of these massive creatures remain.

For decades, tracking the tiny plankton meant sending research vessels out in the ocean, towing nets and counting samples by hand. Now, scientists are looking from above instead.

Using NASA satellite data, researchers found a way to detect Calanus swarms at the ocean surface in the Gulf of Maine, picking up on the animals’ natural red pigment. This early-stage approach, described in a new study, may help researchers better estimate where the copepods gather and where whales might follow.

Tracking the zooplankton from space could aid both the whales and maritime industries. By predicting where these mammals are likely to feed, researchers and marine resource managers hope to reduce deadly vessel strikes and fishing gear entanglements—two major threats to the species. Knowing the feeding patterns could also help shipping and fishing industries operate more efficiently.

“NASA invests in this kind of research because it connects space-based observation with real-world challenges,” said Cynthia Hall, a support scientist at NASA headquarters in Washington. She works with the Early Career Research Program, which partly funded the work. “It’s yet another way to put NASA satellite data to work for science, communities, and ecosystems.”

Revealing the Ocean’s Hidden Patterns

The new approach uses data from the MODIS (Moderate Resolution Imaging Spectroradiometer) on NASA’s Aqua satellite. The MODIS instrument doesn’t directly see the copepods themselves. Instead, it reads how the spectrum of sunlight reflected from the ocean surface changes in response to what’s in the water.

When large numbers of the zooplankton rise to the surface, their reddish pigment—astaxanthin, the same compound that gives salmon their pink color—subtly alters how photons, or particles of light, from the sun are absorbed or scattered in the water. The fate of these photons in the ocean depends on the mix of living and non-living matter in seawater, creating a slight shift in color that MODIS can detect.

“We didn’t know to look for Calanus before in this way,” said Catherine Mitchell, a satellite oceanographer at Bigelow Laboratory for Ocean Sciences in East Boothbay, Maine. “Remote sensing has typically focused on smaller things like phytoplankton. But recent research suggested that larger, millimeter-sized organisms like zooplankton can also influence ocean color.”

A few years ago, researchers piloted a satellite method for detecting the copepods in Norwegian waters. Now, some of those same scientists—along with Mitchell’s team—have refined the approach and applied it to the Gulf of Maine, a crucial feeding ground for right whales during their northern migration. By combining satellite data, a model, and field measurements, they produced enhanced images that revealed Calanus swarms at the sea surface and were able to estimate numbers of the tiny animals.

The map at the top of this page (top) shows Calanus patches in Gulf of Maine surface waters on June 17, 2009, detected by the researchers while testing the new approach. Estimated concentrations of the copepods that day reached as high as 150,000 individuals per cubic meter. For comparison, the lower image (MODIS bands 1, 4, 3) shows the same area in natural color, as the human eye would perceive it. Notice how the map depicts patterns that are nearly imperceptible to human eyes in natural color images alone, such as the dense patches southwest of Nova Scotia and the sparser patches toward the gulf’s center.

“We know the right whales are using habitats we don’t fully understand,” said Rebekah Shunmugapandi, also a satellite oceanographer at Bigelow and the study’s lead author. “This satellite-based Calanus information could eventually help identify unknown feeding grounds or better anticipate where whales might travel.”

Editor’s note: This story has been adapted from materials published by NASA on May 5, 2025.

NASA Earth Observatory image by Wanmei Liang, using data from Shunmugapandi, R., et al. (2025). Story by Emily DeMarco (NASA Headquarters), adapted for NASA Earth Observatory.

[e-commerce-development-company]

Woxro: The Bright Head in the Lead of Ecommerce Development

Woxro is one of the highest level e-commerce development companies in the constantly changing digital economy. Woxro assures cutting-edge solutions for businesses with the sophisticated requirement of today's digital economy. Whether it's about B2B and B2C platforms or the most seamless integration, or simply a custom-built solution, the online business experiences get ignited through Woxro's services. Backed with the attitude of innovation and commitment towards making their clients successful, Woxro helps companies make strong digital platforms along with competitive markets. Check out these are the core e-commerce development services by which Woxro comes forward to be a preferred partner for businesses wanting to breathe new life into their online presence. Woxro is the leading ecommerce development company in India and is providing top notch services and solutions for you.

B2B Platform Development

The B2B interaction is at the heart of modern commerce; it has built B2B platforms that make such interactions easy and hassle-free. B2B marketplaces help a company reach its suppliers, shortlist potential partnerships, and make the transactions all from one centralized place. Woxro's B2B platforms are wide-ranging and ensure that customers experience security, reliability, and ease of use in all business operations in order to create confidence and efficient workflows. Woxro's B2B solutions are equipped with real-time inventory management, automated processes, and advanced analytics, meaning businesses can work efficiently and have valuable relationships that last long.

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Through ease-of-use, online shops to offer products for shopping, Woxro's B2C platform development services help businesses reach their customers and interact directly with them. Designed to convert visitors into loyal customers, Woxro's B2C platforms include all the comprehensive tools for managing products, processing secure payments, and engaging in more personalized experiences for shopping. Each is optimized to give an easy, enjoyable experience to the user as businesses stretch their reach to the customer, marketing being directed, and giving an enjoyable shopping experience that creates a sale and brand loyalty.

Platform Migration

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[awkwardapologetic]

Pulling the Puzzles Apart - Chapter 1

Summary:

Jayce is a scientist from a small town who wants to bring back the mythic technology of a past he feels a strong connection to. Viktor is a god who has spent centuries paying for his mistakes. Jayce didn't expect to find a mysterious man trapped in a magic prison. Viktor never expected he'd ever see the man who imprisoned him again.

Relationships: Jayce Talis/Viktor

Tags: Alternate Universe, Post Post-Apocalypse, Hurt/Comfort, Plot Heavy, Happy Ending, Reincarnation, Memory Loss, Recovering Memories

AO3 Link or read below

Chapter 2>>

CHAPTER 1

The old transport stations to the floating cities were decommissioned long ago, before living memory, most of them in sad states of disrepair and overgrowth as nature sought to reclaim the crumbling towers.

There was one on the high mountain overlooking Jayce's town, a monument to the past he spent his whole life looking up to in admiration. Going near the towers was taboo. Both they and the floating cities they once granted access to were forsaken by the gods, so the town elders said.

Floating cities numbered in the dozens, but Jayce had only seen three in his life. The same three made their meandering migrations across the sky over his quiet town at regular intervals.

The first one was the smallest, and came by most often. Its shape was a perfect circle, it traveled north to south, and it took two years between appearances. The second was a little larger, with two little offshoots connected by thin bridges on opposite sides, and traveled northwest to southeast every four years.

The last was the largest, nearly double the size of the second, and shaped like two circles interlocked. It traveled southwest to northeast at ten year intervals. He'd only seen it twice that he could remember. Once when he was fourteen, and now.

He clambered one-handed up the verdant mountainside, clutching journals full of his research to his chest. They didn't fit in his supply pack, and he didn't want to throw out anything just to end up needing it, so only having one free hand it was.

From up here, his little hometown looked even littler, colorful wooden houses shrunk to the size of a fingernail. The windmills turned languidly in the valley breeze that grew stronger as it climbed up the mountain with him, buffeting his clothes.

There used to be a path. With stairs. Stairs that moved. The remnants of them were still obvious, though destroyed and weathered with time. Using them was more dangerous than convenient, bound to end in some stray scrap metal piercing something important, especially after it rained. Jayce preferred the slightly-less-perilous animal trails that criss-crossed up the least vertical sections.

The mountaintop flattened into a wide plateau. Jayce took the final step off the mountainside and paused to catch his breath. Gone were the days when he'd collapse into a panting, sore-legged heap after taking this trip. After so many times climbing up and down the mountain, he'd earned a bit of endurance.

The floating city crept closer, sitting high above the clouds. Hardly a speck in the sky the evening before, it was now the size of a marble, shining in the mid-morning sun. The slow-moving city would take nearly a month to cross from horizon to horizon, leaving Jayce plenty of time to put his research to the test.

Decayed buildings surrounded the base of the transport station. Crumbling concrete and solid metal frames that gleamed dully in the sunlight, moss and creeping vines inching up their high walls, they once might have served as homes for the station's engineers and maintenance workers. The highest was five stories tall and still dwarfed by the station itself.

Anticipation quickened his steps. This was it. The culmination of his work. Since he was young, he dreamed of flying up to those magical cities, full of lost history and relic technology only remembered in legends that captured his imagination. He spent his whole life in the same lonely little town. He longed to ride along and see the world from beatific heights. The view must be indescribable, akin to how the gods themselves watched over the realm.

Walking through the station's doors was like stepping into another era. The air was thick with something like nostalgia, the scent of it washing over Jayce and refusing to fade. The interior was weathered with age, cracking with vegetation making valiant efforts to grow in, but everything important— everything he would need— was clearly built with longevity in mind.

The station's mechanisms ran deep into the mountain, the most important functions taking place at the very base and at the peak of the tower. The trick was getting the two sections to link.

Jayce took the lift down, tapping his foot the whole way. Repairing the lift was his first project in the station, some years ago. The simple ingenuity was inspired; there were no cables or pulleys. Instead, at the very top of the glass shaft was a wind turbine that regulated the air pressure in the shaft, pulling and pushing the cab at controlled speed.

The shaft was, miraculously, still air-tight. Repairing the turbine was easy enough, save for the effort it took to get his tools to the top floor, but the locking mechanisms on each of the fourteen floors, plus the sublevel, took considerable time and climbing. A lot of them were still functional without him needing to do anything, but he still had to check.

The cab landed softly, locking into place against the bottom of the shaft. The sublevel housed the defunct generator that once supplied the power required for instantaneous transportation. Unlike the lift, its components were complex and its application entirely alien; what energy could his ancestors possibly have drawn upon to perform such miracles?

The answer, of course, was magic. And Jayce would be the first person to harness it in hundreds of years.

The methods of communing with the arcane were lost, as many things were, in the War for Tomorrow. A war fought amongst gods and the mortals they stewarded, records of the battles and the civilizations that waged them were lost in the wake of those catastrophic conflicts. The only surviving history from that forgotten era was in the form of stories passed down across fire pits or to lull children to sleep.

Little was known about the start of the war, but the end was credited to the god of Time, Ekko, and a mortal champion of Mel, the goddess of Wisdom, for defeating... something. A great enemy. The exact who changed depending on who was telling the story. The ruler of a warmongering kingdom. A demon who wanted to consume the souls of mortals. A bastardization of old tech come to life and filled with hate for its creators.

Jayce's mother told him it was the god of Nightmares, but that may be because he used to sleep fitfully on long winter nights. He hadn't had that problem since she passed.

The gods didn't take champions anymore. They hardly bothered themselves with mortals at all, save for the occasional blessing; the elders said the devastation of the war encouraged the gods to keep away for the sake of this realm's safety. Jayce didn't agree— according to the travelers that passed through from time to time, wars were still being fought, even with the gods away. If terrible things would happen regardless, surely they could use their power to do some good?

Well, it didn't matter. Once Jayce brought magic back to the world, they wouldn't need the gods or their paltry blessings.

The key was the runes inscribed on the control apparatuses on the top and bottom levels. Contrary to his initial hypothesis, the runes were not the language of the arcane. It was a little more complicated than that.

The arcane was not a thinking entity, in the way thinking entities were usually understood. There was intelligence there, but true communication with it would require a radical restructuring of basic conceptual understanding that was simply impossible without becoming something else entirely.

The runes were an intermediary system, somewhere between language and equations, capable of translating ideas to the arcane and then channeling the arcane's response into real-world applications. It required precise syntax, but the functions were really only limited by the runes themselves.

Jayce sat in front of the interface, running an admiring finger over a Precision rune carved into the spherical runic matrix. He splayed his notes out on the desk on either side, locating his method ideas for powering up the tower.

It was time to get to work.

Evening fell. An eerie blue lit up the valley, casting a wide glow over the sleepy town nestled within. Heads turned up, watching an artifact from a past only recounted in cautionary tales come to life, bleeding light from the interwoven veins etched over its decayed body.

The domed roof cracked open, its innards spinning around themselves in rings and pushing outward and up. The buzzing hum of machinery vibrated the very ground beneath their feet. Fear and awe collided in its observers as it came to rest, pointing toward the approaching city in the sky.

"Lady Violet, grace us with your protection," a father whispered, holding his young daughter to his chest.

The townspeople held their breath as one, watching, waiting. The tower appeared larger than ever, bright as a beacon for all the valley to see, and some beyond. The soul-devouring machine of their childhood stories was held at the forefront of their minds.

A beam of light fired off toward the floating city from the center of the inner rings, frightening some enough to shout, there and gone in an instant. Not a minute went by before it returned, zapping from the distant city like lightning, and the shouts reached a crescendo of screaming.

Another beam shot out from the tower. They held their breath once more, waiting for it to return like the first.

Heavy trepidation set in. The rings spun inward, tucking themselves back inside the head of the tower. The dome sealed shut around them.

Blue veins continued to burn, vivid in the growing darkness of approaching twilight.

It was poor procedure on Jayce's part to test a new— relatively speaking— invention only once before trying it on himself, but his activities were bound to be noticed when the transport station powered up and he didn't know how long he'd have before someone came to try and stop him. The tack hammer he placed on the launch pad survived his Send and Receive methods no worse for wear, so. It was fine.

Better than fine. It actually worked. A grin of elation stretched his face.

Jayce set up the Send method again, putting it on a five second delay to give himself time to step onto the launch pad. There was a temptation to close his eyes before the timer hit zero, but it was nothing compared to the way he craved a glimpse of that in-between place, no matter how unlikely it was that he would see anything in the time it took to transport him.

The ring of cables around the launch pad lit up with arcane energy, filling in under his feet and highlighting the complex runic equations etched there by his predecessors. He tightened the straps on his supply pack and held his research securely under his arm. He looked up at the floating city, a fragment of the past that held the secrets for a better future. Secrets that he would be the one to discover.

He didn't see anything between the launch pad in the transport tower and the receiving pad on the floating island. It was too quick, dizzyingly so, and he wobbled to his knees, trying to focus on any spot on the carved stone wall— or was that the ceiling?— until his vision stopped swimming.

He made it. He made it.

The receiving pad glowed, the only light in the enclosed space Jayce found himself in. It was strangely cramped for somewhere that, once upon a time, would have been bustling with new arrivals and shipments from the surface and other floating cities.

If Jayce didn't know better, he'd say he was underground. Somewhere inside the land mass the city was built on, perhaps?

The walls and low ceiling were carved from solid stone, the receiving pad in the center of a room no larger than five meters in length and width. The walls were engraved with repeating lines of images, cast in odd shadows from the receiving pad's blue light.

There was no obvious way out.

He stepped off the pad. There had to be a switch or a button somewhere to open the exit.

The receiving pad's light was just dim enough to strain his eyes, so he reached into his pack and pulled out his lantern, leaving the rest of his pack and his notes beside the pad. The lantern lit up the wall carvings nearest to him in stark relief, and examining them closer brought him a nagging sense of familiarity.

The images were of gods, some alone and some pictured together, but that wasn't what drew him in. He stared at a depiction of Ekko and Jinx, goddess of Rebirth, facing off on a bridge (the two were meant to be lovers, but their stances there were strangely adversarial) until he went a little cross-eyed, and that was when the familiarity crystalized.

There were runic equations hidden in the negative spaces of the carvings. Jayce scrambled for his journals, hastily flipping through them for empty pages to begin marking down notes.

Wow. Wow. This room was not built by human hands— or even godly ones. It was formed purely from these equations telling the arcane its dimensions, the placement and function of the receiving pad, the carvings on the walls. He inspected them with a whole new appreciation for the precision required to render identifiable characters in different settings and poses.

The applications of runes were incredible. Not just instantaneous travel, but instantaneous construction? The possibilities drove Jayce dizzy with the joy of discovery.

If the room was built with runes, it stood to reason he could find the way out written somewhere in them. A project that served two purposes— studying the compilation of these runes, and hopefully along the way not starving or suffocating before he could share the fruit of his research.

This was the most fun he'd ever had in his life.

It took several hours to puzzle out the general roles of all the lines of equations, during which he found that there was, indeed, a way out of the room. Or, there could be, theoretically. The equation that created the exit also disabled it, meaning that while it did exist, it was not functional or perceivable at all, so it might as well not exist.

He ate some of the food he packed while he considered what to do. On the one hand, he needed to alter the runes to be able to leave. On the other hand, altering the runes that formed the room he was in while he was inside it was probably a very bad idea.

How to remove the exit-disabling equation without removing the exit itself was another problem, but one he already had an inkling of an hypothesis for. He didn't want to alter any of the established equations directly— he hadn't studied them long enough to be sure he wouldn't be disrupting any key interactions— but if he added a method to cancel out the disabling attribute... There was space between the images he could make use of.

He worked up the method in his journal, dug his tools out of his pack, and got to work imprinting it into the wall. The last rune in the sequence, the Activation rune that would turn the equation from a bunch of meaningless scribbles into a conversation with the arcane, he hesitated over. Worst case scenario, the room buckled down on top of him and he was slowly crushed to death.

Being crushed to death was probably faster than starving to death. He finished the rune.

The seam of a doorway cracked open in the stone, spewing dust into Jayce's face. He recoiled, sputtering and coughing and blinking dirt from his eyes. Meanwhile, the hidden door rumbled, kicking up more dust, and sank down into the floor.

Behind it was a set of stairs leading... down. Huh. He peered through, squinting into the dark passage. At a glance, there were around fifty steps, ending in another arching doorway that opened into total darkness. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end.

Where was he, anyway?

He grabbed his lantern. There was nowhere else to go but down.

Far outside the valley, a woman in armor gazed at the distant blue beacon. Her stallion, bred from warhorses with iron nerves, snorted and shook its massive head. She pressed a hand to its neck, wordlessly commanding it steady.

At the woman's left was her lieutenant, a man astride his own horse, holding a telescope to his eye. He passed it over to her with a curt nod. "The soothsayers were right."

"A welcome change," the woman responded dryly. She beheld the magnified tower, its strange otherworldly light not unpleasant to her eye. "Gather a small party. I'd like a closer look."

The lieutenant murmured a quick, "Ma'am," turning his horse and spurring it on toward their encampment.

The room at the bottom of the stairs was hardly bigger than the one above, but Jayce couldn't be bothered to notice its dimensions when his attention was arrested by the giant orb against the far wall.

It emitted light from within, its translucent skin thick enough to dampen its brilliance into a pale purplish gloom. A shiver went down his spine. He swallowed around a dry throat and inched forward, holding up his lantern.

There were runic equations covering the walls. The ceiling. The floor. Not hidden, not organized. Not carved, either, but painted in a dark ink. It looked... frantic. An uncomfortable, unnameable feeling bubbled in Jayce. His stomach squeezed. Maybe talk about these places being condemned by the gods weren't as superstitious as he thought.

Still... it called to him. Ever since he was young and figured out his first rune, he knew there was no other path for him. If that path led him here, then...

He knelt down to examine the equations beneath his feet. They were a mess, all nested inside each other, and he couldn't tell if the mind behind them was mad or genius. He hoped it would be clearer once he figured out what they all meant.

In Numesa, home of the gods, Mel surveyed the holy city from her perch on her bedroom window seat. A frown pulled at her lips, and a single, thoughtful line creased her brow. The gold markings lining her dark skin shimmered in the eternal sun of the godly realm, and even here, she radiated preternatural eminence.

The city was lovely, as always. Bustling with gods, minor and major, young and old, living out their immortal lives, presiding over their domains. Someone new would arrive every few decades or so, from some unfortunate corner of the mortal realm with the boilerplate conditions to forge a passion, trait or belief into divinity. There hadn't been more than one at a time since her and those who formed with her in the events now called the War for Tomorrow.

A grand name for a war that began as a petty dispute between the goddess of Conquest and the goddess of Deceit. The two of them and their followers would have razed the whole of the mortal realm to ash if a greater threat hadn't come along to endanger the immortal realm, too.

As lovely as Numesa was, she could never fully enjoy it. None of the others— Violet, Caitlyn, Jinx, Ekko— could either. Not when they still remembered their mortal home being used as this city's battleground.

Not when they were still missing another who rose to divinity with them. Viktor. Caged back in the mortal realm. Sitting in a trap designed just for him by the man who knew him best. Alone for centuries.

The six of them were more connected than other gods; a product of their shared apotheosis. It wasn't much help in the beginning, but once they settled into their new forms it was an easy way to check in on each other. To know that they were all safe.

Viktor held himself apart in his imprisonment for a long time. A decade or so in, he used the connection to spike her— Mel, specifically— with a torrent of rage and betrayal that she knew was, mostly, not for her. But the true target of his anger was long gone by then. She wanted to reach out in rebuke, or perhaps sympathy, but he cut himself off again to disallow her any response.

It wasn't for another few centuries that he reached out again, to all of them, pouring out remorse and regret and shame and a loneliness so profound it still stole her breath to think of it. They returned to Zaun and Piltover, then, to release him. To finally embrace him into their little pantheon.

The trap set for him was complex. Jinx and Ekko worked at undoing it for a long time before demanding the rest of them learn runic script to assist them.

It wasn't unbreakable. Mel refused to think that Jayce believed Viktor so beyond saving that he wouldn't allow for the possibility of his eventual freedom. But... they couldn't find the loose thread that would undo the arcane knot tied around Viktor.

Viktor continued reaching out, his despair growing. Until around a century-and-a-half ago, when it all went quiet. Not that he cut himself off again, but that when Mel reached out to him, there was nothing in him anymore but desolation.

They were still working to get him out, but a dead end was a dead end, and it seemed the only one who knew how to free Viktor from his prison was the one who died to trap him there.

It didn't matter. They'd find a way. She could only hope that Viktor wouldn't be forever lost by then.

Jayce was a genius.

Not whoever made this mess, though. Whoever that was, they were definitely insane.

It took a few days— probably, Jayce didn't really have a good grasp of time here other than how many times he’d needed to pass out for a few hours— and nearly all of his remaining paper, but the mad scribbles covering the room floor-to-ceiling finally held meaning.

It was a lock box. An overly complicated one fueled by paranoia that it would be broken from the inside or accidentally knocked open from the outside, but the vision for the key was already coming together in Jayce's head.

The question was: did he use it? Whoever put this together obviously thought they had a pretty good reason. But, they were also out of their mind, so who could say, really?

And, also, he didn't have a choice. Starvation, suffocation, whatever. He was low on water, too, and he didn't want to start getting creative about that.

The first step was digging out the "lock". The "key" was to reverse the locking sequence of runes, but the locking sequence was out of order and buried under multiple layers of nested arrays. He had to form the lock before he could unlock it.

It would take some recursion— fucking recursion, which he hated, because it was the worst and never worked for him first try— and carefully arranged parameters, but then it would only be a matter of, of course, more recursion to reverse the sequence, because parts of the mad scribbles were there specifically to prevent him from using simpler methods like the Reverse rune.

Recursion. The worst.

Things exploded a little on his first try.

His recursive loop didn't have an end condition even though he triple checked for one. He was wrong all three times.

It coughed up a blast of heat that singed his eyebrows and he had to splash his precious little water over the equations he painted— in his own blood, because he didn't have anything else— before they melted a hole through the floor and possibly also spacetime.

Alright. Failure out of the way. He would get it right next time.

Second try, nothing happened. A little anticlimactic after his first attempt.

He stared down at his bloody script for a good ten minutes, muttering the lines to himself, until he realized he forgot a closing bracket on one of his variables. He held his face in his hands for another ten minutes before fixing it.

Third time's the charm.

The runes lit up to show they were activated, starting at the beginning of the madman's script and working its way down to Jayce's. He watched with nervous anticipation.

The light lingered on Jayce's script, and he worried he would have to spit on it to keep it from infinitely looping again, but it was only working to pull up the lock sequence as ordered and the process took time. Time that Jayce spent biting his nails.

The reverse recursion lit up next, taking less time than the lock sequence before going dim.

Jayce looked up. Looked around the room. Looked at the purple glowing orb. Everything was the same.

Did he... forget another bracket?

The orb shuddered. Jayce took a curious step forward, remembered himself, and took three steps back, pressing against the wall.

Vibrant cracks tore through the orb's outer skin, leaking the brilliant light from inside. Jayce braced for it to burst open, but instead the pieces broke off and fell to the ground like scattered eggshells, beams of blinding light punching out with each one. Jayce had to turn his head away and shield his eyes.

He should be afraid, shouldn't he?

The light faded out. Jayce opened his eyes, blinking away spots, and finally saw what had been hidden and locked away.

It was a man. Sitting on the ground, purple eggshells surrounding him in a perfect circle, knees drawn to his chest, a simple, short blue robe covering his pale chest and down to mid-thigh. His cheek rested on his right knee, and his hair, brown at the root that faded into blonde at the tips, was long enough to brush the stone floor. His left leg was skinnier than his right.

Most striking were his eyes. A light brown, like golden tree sap, and utterly dull. Lifeless. He made no move to leave the area of his former captivity.

"Ah," the man said, his voice soft and broken, like he hadn't spoken in a long time. "You're back."

Chapter 2>>

[ajaygupta001]

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[calciumdeficientt]

Could you maybe do my oc Dolly and Johnny Vincent hcs I have insane writer's block for anything other than birds 😭 (I'm studying ornithology)

Im getting the longform writing itch so there’s a little paragraph at the end of this (birdwatching, bc you cant tempt me with ornithology and not let me talk about birds). these are more friendship hcs than anything else bc i didn’t feel all that comfortable making relationship hcs between a 16 and an 18 year old.

you know where to click by now dudes

JOHNNY VINCENT AND DOLLY WILLIAMS HCS

Met at the diner, he’d strolled in for something to drink in the middle of summer, and they got to chatting. He made a dumb joke about her being cooped up inside instead of playing, assuming she was just a kid. Dolly was quick to put him to rights about the whole ordeal, letting him know that she was, in fact, 16.

Johnny tried and tried to teach her how to ride a bike, it just didn’t work. When she was still new in the clique, she’d have her riding on the back of another greaser’s bike but as they grew closer she ended up just riding with him.

Dolly has so much dirt on him it’s crazy, he started frequenting the diner when things started getting rocky with Lola again, just to have someone to talk it out with. Even after it had started clearing up for him, he started finding himself coming back just to chat. Not even to vent or cry all over the counters, to ask about the weather, or sports or what she was planning on doing after Bullworth

Johnny admittedly felt a little creepy hanging out with her, he was 18 and set to graduate soon, and she was just 16. He didn’t want anyone to get the wrong ideas about him, he wasn’t a creep, he was just a kid in need of a good friend. Thats all.

crisp, clear, midsummer air filled the lungs of Johnny Vincent, mingling with the hot, heavy smoke of his last drag of dying cigarette. He and Dolly were laying atop one of the abandoned shipping containers, watching clouds as they passed, quietly musing what they thought they looked like. Johnny couldn’t’ve cared less about the game, it was too much like the ink splotch tests they’d made him do when he was in the looney bin; but it seemed to make Dolly happy, so he played along begrudgingly. Overhead, a small flock of birds passed overhead, in V formation. They appeared to be migrating. Johnny gazed up at them, only snapping out of the trance when he felt the container jolt, Dolly was up on her feet peering into the sky, they were calling like crazy as the passed overhead, low enough to be heard. It was almost haunting, like a coyote call or something. “D, what’re ya doin?” He inquired, heaving himself up so he was sitting, his legs still flat “Wow, they’re so beautiful…” Johnny snorted, she was so easily pleased “Oh yeah? What kind are they?” “Common loons.. I mean I think so” “What’d you call me?” Dolly looked over at him, not knowing if he was being serious or not, Johnny let out as raspy chuckle and lay back down “C’mon back here before you get hurt”

[sravyaaa]

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[fourtyfourcatss]

[████████ 100%] — my other fav @averagetoyakinnie !

— my only love for the rest of this lifetime, “what are you, a dictionary?”, dancing to see how your bodies slot together, actions actions actions.

“oh, my love. if you were at my level of madness, you would cast away your jewelry, sell all your bracelets. and sleep in my eyes.”

nizar qabbani

̫⃝*｡೨⋆*✩ #how did the couple first meet?

Wind blew through the desolate park, cutting the soft cheeks of a man without a scarf. JAXRAEL shivered despite the layers of clothes stacked on his shoulders, a flock of birds the last of the migrating birds on the horizon. The sky was pale, and the clouds were but wisps. He had his skateboard in hand, his feet bouncing in excitement. A new skatepark had finally opened in Jaxrael’s neighborhood, and he had found some time to head down for a test of how the grounds were after rummaging through his busy schedule. Though, oddly enough, when he glanced around the vicinity, he could not spot a single soul. Only white stones and grass and trees kept him company, ruffled by the zephyr. It combed through his scalp, the smell of pine ladened underneath his nose. It tickled a bit.

But as he went further in, he realized that he was not the only one occupying this park. At the end of the path, next to his destination, Jax spotted a figure perched atop a bench.

The stranger’s hoodie covered his face, the fabric stretching across his strong build. He was completely still, like a stagnant pond. But Jax could catch a hint of emerald eyes, dazed, and contemplative. A singular scar ran down his lips, like the stroke of a calligrapher’s brush.

His heart stuttered, if only for a second.

The man looked melancholic, the sunlight reaching the tips of his eyelashes. And suddenly, his green eyes shifted onto Jax’s.

Jax halted in place, peeling his eyes off the man after being caught redhanded.

But it was too late to go back! If he didn’t skate now, he wouldn’t have time later because his schedule’s entirely full from a series of misfortunate, coinciding events. With embarrassment clotting red all over his face, the youthful man laid his jacket on another bench, and stepped on his board.

But as the minutes flew by, Jaxrael could not focus at all on skateboarding. The stranger’s eyes bore onto him at every second, tracing Jax’s figure into his mind. But at the same time— a pang of pity resounded in Jaxrael’s heart— the stranger still looked miserable. And after a few moments of grappling, he decided that he must make sure this man is alright at the very least.

Once that thought spurred in his mind, it roused in his chest as his heart thumped, nervousness mingling across the corners of his brows. For a moment, his head feel blank. Then, he flipped.

The world swept upside down, but he could not feel the familiar weight of the skateboard underneath his feet. I’m going to fall—!Jaxrael sucked in a breath of air, body tensing—

Before warm arms braced against his back and behind his knees, halting his fall. The stranger frowned.

“Hey,” his deep (and slightly irate) voice pinched Jax’s heart. From this angle, he can see the man’s bangs framing his face, eyes a brilliant hue. “Pay attention instead of staring next time.”

Then he leaned in, the slightest of mirth in his eyes, “But your skating isn’t bad.”

Then, an echo of a voice came from afar— “THE PARK IS CLOSED TODAY FOR CLEANING! WHY THE HELL ARE PEOPLE STILL COMING IN?!”

Wait, Jaxrael thought, the park was closed today?

The man clicked his tongue, muttering under his breath, “So annoying. He’ll talk my ears off he if finds out I came again.”

“Came again?” Jax parroted, “what did you say to him?”

Police officers usually let people off with a warning— if he’s so cautious about arrest, he must’ve really pissed that police officer off.

“Oh, not much,” he chuckled, and Jax watched as he licked his lips, turning back before whispering the most diabolical, flabbergasting, offensive sentence into his ears. Jax’s mouth was agape. “Well, it’s not truly me, but a little devil without horns (read: megumi).”

Then, the stranger took upon Jax’s hands, and with a mischievous smile, winked. His hands throbbed.

“FUCKING LOVEBIRDS!” Was the last thing they heard, hidden by the beaten grass.

̫⃝*｡೨⋆*✩ #how are they now?

Toji hummed. “Afterwards, we kept meeting up at that same place. Truthfully, I wasn’t planning on proceeding with Jaxrael, but.” He pauses there, and refused to elaborate after a long period of reflection. In truth, he was partially correct. If it not be your unrelenting chase for answers and reasons towards everything, he would have long left that memory in the dust. but he was attacked on both ends, one end being you, and another, unexpectedly, being his little son with the sharp tongue. and he thought, could i have this? do i deserve this?

a young child barred from his family, hands and heart beyond rough with callouses— and the one who came a little late. but, its all alright in the end.

now, he’s extremely clingy, even though he acts shamelessly like he isn’t. megumi roasts both of you for misusing or misremembering slang, and you laugh while toji raises a challenging eyebrow. i think this is more of an extremely blended relationship, acting like an extremely close friendship yet with the tender feeling of lovers rippling underneath. sweet and casual, with the openness and vulnerability the two of you can expose and indulge in one another. that’s why, many people dare not to approach when the two of you are interacting with one another, your actions undeniably romantic in undertone, bringing about a new sort of tension in the relationship. the two of you get intimate very fast, seeking one another <- in whatever way, you interpret it, but mostly emotionally.

[original hcs here]

̫⃝*｡೨⋆*✩ 【INNATE TECHNIQUE:】

JAX always held a special constitution as a child. He could always sense a certain “breeze” as a child that was all around him, unable to properly feel or grab a hold of it. It constantly slipped past his fingers. This child’s sensations was very unique, and gained a special ability deprived from his innate technique, “Ambience.”

His clan’s technique allows for the controlling of subatomic particles, their cursed energy has somehow adapted to the technique, and is almost entirely invisible. The user can freely manipulate the flow of cursed energy inside subatomic space, and directly change the properties of the object by using their cursed energy as a BATTERY (adding negative charge) or as a INSULATOR (taking away negative charge). It’s a very complicated technique, which results in the manipulation of “composition of atoms, including the particles that form them, and generating newly formed particles. The user can change how newly created elementary particles can interact with other particles, either by creating anomalies that break physics or be beneficial. The user can control three fundamental forces such as electromagnetism, strong force, and the weak force. Manipulate electrical charged particles and unstable ones, control quarks to cause the formation of strange matter, etc.” (from this website).

Of course, you cannot use all the abilities listed from that list, however, many creative liberties must be used for this technique, which you have. With this, Jax became a grade one jujutsu sorcerer, but he has not reached his peak potential yet…

the REASONING for this ability, is because somehow, everything about you, personality, hobbies, everything, reminds me of biting down on stick rockets on a unforgettable and peaceful night. i have never done it before, but i can feel it on my tongue.

DOMAIN EXPANSION

【領域展開 — four cosmic realms, unfold】

A stray atom explodes into the domain all around you. Suddenly, the space around you is engulfed in the dark void, then colors of which the eyes should not be able to see— then the white, sparkling and endlessly moving sparks— plasma. There are several large plasmic swords of a different hue surrounding you and your opponent, acting like another layer and barrier inside your domain. You can manipulate these plasmic swords however you like inside this domain.

The name of your domain comes from the four main phases of matter, which in turn, will play into the background of your technique. In this space, you become capable of manipulating forces itself because of your innate technique and the cursed energy surrounding the area. The user of this technique can generate force fields and the fundamental forces. The only drawback to both this technique and domain is the level of precision one must have, and the strain that it places on the user’s mind is very electrical in the very least. It’s mostly an amplification of your technique, and also simultaneously melting your opponent’s atoms down from the the bouncing plasma.

【A STRIKING WEAPON FROM AFAR】

I have good reason to believe this is a suitable weapon for you. First, you are a dancer, which no matter what category of dancing, requires semblance of movement. You know how there’s a joke that dancers make some of the scariest fucking fighters? You’re like that in Jujutsu kaisen. Whips pair well with that kind of movement that you cultivated into yourself for that form of activity. It suits you too, not in the aspect that you are domineering, but your presence take up the room very often, i’m guessing. something in relation to that makes this option feel very right.

a…A BABY???

when toji found out the two of you are having a son… the entire household disrupted into shock and chaos.

he has turfs of brownish-blond hair in resemblance to your original hair color, his eyes hold the same shape as yours, but it is a bright green with flickers of amber dotting it’s surface. babies has this thing of looking like both parents at different times and angles, something leaning more towards one parent. your son looks mostly like toji, hair pointing and droopy. but he has dimples, just like yours. when he smiled at toji, the man cried from the inner depths of his heart.

TOJI has had a stake in his heart that still have not healed for a very long time. When Megumi was born, he was not the main caretaker of the child who was already out of diapers and carts by the time he was left with him. He’s overjoyed, yet the stone inside his chest is keeping it at bay of spilling out, and he isn’t sure whether it is a good thing or not. but he will always try his best. he buys those really elementary baby books and brings home magazines to read. he just goes directly opposite of his frugal self when this happens, making sure you’re always comfortable, setting up your bath. when the child is born, in classical father fashion, he rubs the bottoms of his son’s feet in ink, and stamps its shape onto a piece of stone, hung on the walls of his nursery.

MEGUMI goes into extreme panic mode. you know that one meme where there’s this dude who gets unbelievably shocked to the point where his eyes are popping out? that’s like the exact facial expression he makes for a split second, and you have to laugh, and then everyone laughs because its you who’s laughing and then the atmosphere lifts. but like megumi is Ready. he will be the very best big brother there is, nonchalantly but also tenderly caring for his lil bro. he doesn’t have any big feelings at first other than to prove himself, but when the little kid is born, and holds his finger.

he’s gone.

TSUMIKI reacts more normally than the other two, but she is unbelievably happy too! i think she’s going to get very overprotective of you and the child, scolding the other two for their sometimes irresponsibility. she loves babysitting the kid, even though it seems that her younger brother isn’t a big fan of anyone, actually. its like a younger megumi has appeared, but also holding a different disposition. maybe its because the kid seems more listless rather than annoyed, enjoying life and sitting with his eyes closed, babbling just to feel his throat vibrating.

How is Jax’s relationships with others? and how do other people feel about the baby?

— MEGUMI FUSHIGURO: “I don’t remember much about my birth mother,” but he has a clairvoyant smile upon his face, “he is the closest I have to another parent.” Admiration and affection is mired on his face, unconcealed even with the best poker face he can muster. A lot of matchups and fics have megumi being a catalyst to the reader and toji being together, but in this case, it is not a relationship started based on lust nor with megumi’s direct intention of interfering or getting the two of you together. your friendship and love with toji and abilities as a sorcerer is something that he models his own capabilities towards. the compassion you hold in your heart, he learns after his first mission, is something heart to find in the jujutsu society. not even he nor his father has the same kind of strengths as yours. he uses his shadow techniques and lets you interact with his dogs and rabbits and other animals, and its just like heaven.

— GOJO SATORU: is a bit peeved. one of his only good upperclassman and childhood friend (you) was stolen by some gambling drunk off the street while skating… (exaggerates greatly). he’s putting toji through the 12 labors for you. he first met you during a ceremonial event for the gojo clan. your family, with it’s lavish status in the jujutsu world, was invited. during that event, he stole many courses of desserts and snacks for the group of children that has assembled by the clans that was invited as a pretense to try and get close to him. you were a bit different. long story short, he provoked you, and ever since you insulted him, he became attached to you like a fifth limb. when it comes to the kid, he reacts the same way as he did to megumi back in the anime, but he’s noticeably soft around the kid, and teases and promises to teach and mentor him. i think he’s just, superbly cheerful, and your listless son likes his energy.

if you had gotten with him instead, it would be more quiet around the house, but the journey of the relationship is both more fluid and rocky. with toji, the two of you eases into this relationship, unbounded and without fear. but gojo is not like toji. he does have fear in his heart. he hasn’t escaped the burdening grip the world has on his being, on his heart. but he tries so hard, and loves equally as much, blazing for you, lingering kisses, kissing the strands of your hair, stealing the glasses off the bridge of your nose and running with it.

— GETO SUGURU: he relates to you more than anyone in this entire cast, and thus, accepts you wholeheartedly. but he knows you are morally better than him. i think he follows you as an example for guidance too, to not lose his way. not only that, he absolutely adores children, so he’s going to bully them. gojo sort of bullies little fushiguro jokingly too, but geto is definitely more a prankster than most the fandom makes him out to be. the child cries because of him, 100%, but its on accident and he’s so apologetic afterwards that even principal yaga feels abashed.

— SHOKO IEIRI & UTAHIME IORI: are two people i didnt want to write together in a big paragraph like this, but besties stay together, and maybe i need to embrace that. the two of them love your humor and your sensitivity to things, much unlike the other guys. the three of you go out together often to buy food and hang out, discussing your favorite shows over snacks and drinks. shoko is definitely intrigued in your own interests in pathology and anthropology, and answers all your questions and is willing to research with you. your son and her sort of just chill together, and of everyone, she’s the one least shocked by the information that you have a kid with one of the most infamous characters in the jujutsu society. utahime on the other hand, is like megumi, but even more over the top. i feel like they’d have a rivalry thing of who is the best big brother vs who is the best aunt, and then yuuji comes in and fucks both of them over since your son likes him immediately.

— ZEN’IN MAKI: gives you that untested approval. you somehow fell in love with her gambling cousin’s personality on top of his looks, and you have your own way of showing to the jujutsu society you dont give two shits about their rules. for this, she admires you, and its enough to warrant her many visits to play with your son.

— ITADORI YUUJI is the true big brother. you knew it was over when your son crawled to him, and was picked up without hesitation. yuuji is now an honorary member of the fushiguro family, congratulations.