#How Do Oil Rigs Work At Sea

[thearticelheaven]

Here's The Article Heaven has thoroughly explained how oil rigs work at sea in a systematic manner, from site setup to oil transfer. Visit the link to see more content.

[typewritingyip]

The Arcturus Missions

Part Nineteen - Radio Waves

Part Eighteen

———

Back on that September day in 1984, scientists were more concerned with making a better bomb than they were anticipating needing to drastically change direction. 

The first countries to have mech technology were, in order; Japan, the United States, the USSR, Ireland, and China. Japan had initially been working on the technology for deep sea exploration along with nuclear power plant maintenance and construction, effectively a way to use a human operator in environments non-conducive to human life. They had their first pilot ready and capable within six months of the first attack, Pilot 001, name Kantaro Tomiyama, died two years after the first attack. 

Another four months after their first launch, the United States had their first suit and pilot, no number was assigned initially, now recognized as Pilot 002, name William Witwicky, callsign Sparkplug. He died three months into the program, many of his immediate successors remain alive though no longer pilot mech suits, his son is a notable engineer along with several other family and family friends. 

People wondered initially where Ireland obtained the materials for their three launched mechs at the defense of the Isle of Man, then people began to see the similarities between the structural supports in the suits to oil rigging equipment in the North Sea. 

As the list grew larger and more countries were able to provide assistance in the battle, the compatibility technology began to advance, no longer were pilots being jury rigged into the technology but adapted into the brain of the machine. Yet side effects remain, as human biology struggles to adapt to the needs of advancing technology. Though scientists continue to try and adapt the systems to be more compatible with biology.

All modern pilots have extended lifespans thanks to the sacrifices of these pioneers of mech technology. 

—

It was still very bright in Iacon, even as it started to grow later in the day, Mirage was walking with Hound, smiling, “So, how do you find Iacon? Now that you’ve lived here for a bit.” Nodding a bit, Hound shrugged slightly, “It’s a beautiful city. Certainly bigger than any on Earth.” Of course it would be bigger, human cities were designed for significantly smaller beings but Mirage chuckled still, “It’s bigger than most on Cybertron to be fair and has been around for a very long time.” They go through the gate and back down to the road, Mirage walking with his hands folded behind his back, “But it’s home.” That brought Hound a bit of pause and he smiled some, “I almost forgot you said you were from here.” Mirage’s smile was bright, “Forged and educated, though north of here,” He gestures to some of the taller structures in the distance, “I don’t spend much time in that part of Iacon anymore, it’s lovely of course but to be out of the way from everything and work.” Hound tilted his head slightly, “Then do you live closer?” Mirage, nodding gesturing in the same direction as where he was staying, “Most of us live towards the markets, too much happens on that side of town to not have rapid responders.” Hound hummed, nodding a bit again.

The buildings blocked the sun some, much to Hound’s relief as his head still ached, his hand came up and held it for a second. Mirage was looking around absently before looking at Hound and resting a hand on his shoulder, “Hound, are you alright?” Nodding a bit, Hound sighed a bit painfully as the sun his his visual feed again, “Yes, I am alright, just trying to manage a migraine.” Frowning, Mirage glances around before taking his arm and starting to lead them, “Come on, I know a place where you can have a moment of peace. I understand you’ve been sharing a living space with your entire unit, that would hardly be restful.” Shaking his head a bit, Hound covers Mirage’s hand with his own, “Mirage—“ Who was already shaking his head, “No, meetings like the one today are taxing enough, you don’t need to return to a hab full of chaos with a migraine.” He nearly stumbled when Mirage dragged him around a corner and started down some stairs.

”Mirage, where are we going?” With a shake of his head, Mirage kept hold of Hound’s arm, “Someplace quiet at the very least.” He finally slowed down outside of a shorter building, Mirage sighed and started inside, “It’s still early enough in the cycle that most people won’t come in till later,” the inside was pleasantly dark, with only quiet music coming from the speakers nearby. There were booths and tables, but also some low slung chairs, the bar was in the center of the building with soft lightly and a mech behind it cleaning some cubes, “Afternoon Mirage,” Mirage raises a hand briefly before leading Hound to one of the areas with the low chairs, “Sit down and relax, I’m going to get something to eat and join you. Just, try to ease your migraine.” He smiled softly before heading back towards the bar.

Hound sighed and turned off his visual feed, turning down the lights in his suit for a moment, then disabling the assistance suit for a moment to grab his water pouch and some pain killers. They were starting to run low on the ones from Earth, he frowned at the ones in his hand for a moment. How could the smallest things make you homesick, shaking his head a bit he takes the pills quickly before turning the mobility back on and his visual feed on low just as Mirage came back over with a cube. 

After taking the other chair, Mirage sips from his cube, “Are migraines typical for you?” Shrugging a bit, Hound adjusts the setting on his visor, “It’s common to get them after the compatibility programming, it’s just a side-effect.” He sighs in a bit of relief once the worst of the glare was tuned out of his visual feed, “It was one of the many warnings we got during the testing process.” Mirage was frowning, leaning forward a bit, “The more I hear about this compatibility testing, the more concerned I grow.” Hound chuckled lightly, rubbing at his head, “It was necessary to be able to handle the upgrades, back in the beginning, they were just,” he pauses and sighs deeply, “They were just upgrading people, without the testing, and that got a lot of good people killed before they could become pilots.” Mirage winced, nodding slowly, “I’m sorry,” shaking his head, Hound held up a hand, “Don’t be, they didn’t know better. The technology was still so new at the time and everyone knew the risk.” Hound looked down for a moment before sitting back in the chair.

Mirage was staring and Hound shifted a bit, shaking his head a bit uncomfortably, “You know, the staring makes it feel like you’re trying to see my soul.” He chuckles a bit even as Mirage leans back slightly, Hound sighs, “I take it the word soul translated to spark, huh?” “How’d you know that?” Shrugging, Hound turned down his visor as he darkened his visual feed, “Jazz said it would.” They drifted easily into quiet togetherness, Mirage sipping from his cube as Hound turned off his visual feed and closed his eyes for a bit. 

—

To be fair, they got their inspiration from a TV show about a war, so it was only right that they do this now. Jazz was watching as Sunstreaker adjusted the hot plate, shifting the cube before sealing it again, finally sticking one of the copper tubes through, “Now we have a functioning, hopefully, gin still.” Sideswipe was grinning, scratching at his jaw lightly, Sunstreaker shakes his head, hands on hips, “This is the stupidest thing we could have done.” Jazz grins, “Which is why it’s great, come on. If this works we’ll be able to wind down when we have down time,” he moves over and leans down to watch the contents bubble in the cube, “Wow.” They all take a step back to watch with a grin. 

The door to the bedroom opened and Breakdown came out, wearing his helmet and visor, tinted as dark as it could be as he made his way to the table, “What are we all doing today?” Sideswipe grinned and leaned over to the ladder, offering the man a hand up as Breakdown climbed the steps, “Making alcohol.” Breakdown’s eyes shined, “You got the copper?” Sunstreaker looked over, “Wait, how do you know about this? Sides only told me a few days ago.” Waving it off, Breakdown goes over and looks over the still, “Who do you think told him to get the oversized cube? It will be easier to maintain than a typical copper still, that is for certain.” He was smiling, though clearly his own head still ached from the concussion. Glancing around at everyone and their suits resting across the room, Breakdown pauses, “Where’s Hound?” Jazz sighs a bit, “At a meeting with high command. We all were supposed to attend but the poor guy has a migraine.” Each pilot winced, Sunstreaker lightly brushing a hand over his own implants, Breakdown adjusted his helmet slightly, darkening his visor more.

Sideswipe lightly scratches at his implants, “Do you think it's a normal migraine or an overuse one?” Jazz sighed, “Overuse, I got them all the time when I first got out here, they started around this time for me.” Sunstreaker swore and sat down heavily on one of their makeshift chairs, “It can’t be overuse yet, right? I mean, we all disconnect at night.” With a slight shake of his head, Jazz gives a so-so hand gesture, “Hound also works more than the rest of us, as commander he has to stay up longer for more meetings and things, I just would debrief with Prowler but overuse systems are coming for us all, other than maybe Breakdown, Mr. I-have-concussion-and-get-two-weeks-off.” Breakdown snorts a bit and easily flips Jazz off, “Stuff it Jazz.” Sideswipe had the best reaction, hands going up, “Woah, watch out, the old man is angry!” They all get a laugh out of it, smiling and watching the still bubble and steam lightly, enjoying the moment of peace, trying to not think of the overuse side effects that would come for them all. 

—

When the lights came on Hound had to suppress the wince, Mirage had finished his first drink a while ago but had ordered a second in a significantly different color. They were sitting around, not really talking but being able to enjoy one another’s company without gunfire forcing them together. The music started to turn louder and Hound had to pause, frowning at the nearest speaker, “Wait, wait, has it been playing this the whole time?” Mirage frowned and leaned towards one of the speakers before pulling back and rubbing his audial as it increased in volume, “Yeah, the old mech picked up this frequency a few years ago and it brought in a load of new customers after the war. Nobody knows what it is but a bunch of mecha seem to like it.” Hound tilted his head slightly, “I know what this is.” He smiles a bit and starts to nod, “Yeah, yeah this is 102.7 out of California.” His foot tapped lightly.

”Wait, this is from Earth?” Nodding, Hound smiles, “Yeah, it’s from Earth. Yeah, this is Rick Dees, listen.” They both leaned in as a voice carried over the waves, “This is K-I-I-S F-M, Los Angeles. I’m Rick Dees and these are the hot hits.” Before a song started to pour from the speaker and Hound laughed, covering his mouth, “This is from the eighties. This is from home.” Mirage stared at him, smiling a bit, “I take it you liked this frequency?” Hound nodded and rubbed his jaw, “Yeah, I listen to it whenever I’m in Los Angeles, which is more than I would like.” Slowly, he pushes off the chair and moves closer to one of the speakers, starting at the odd connection to home, “I thought I’d be stuck listening to the twins mixtapes for the rest of my life.” Mirage gets up and moves over, resting a hand on his shoulder, “I don’t know what a mixtape is, but I am glad to see you happy.” Hound nodded some, smiling as the tones of Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper flowed. 

Mirage watched, shaking his head a bit, “I don’t know what’s being said.” It clicked for a moment and Hound turned to look at him, “Ah, well, the songs just starting and it starts with,” he clears his throat a bit, “Lying in my bed, I hear the clock tick and think of you.” He wasn’t singing it, not even close, but Mirage looked ready to melt, “A lot of her music is like this and she’s an amazing artist.” Mirage nodded and smiled some, “Uh, you listened to a lot of music?” Nodding, Hound looked to the speaker again, “Whenever I could, if I could afford the tapes or CD’s, um, compact disks.” It clearly soured Mirage’s mood, “Afford?” Hound sighed deeply, “Yes, I don’t know how many times I have to bring up the cost of living to get it through your processors. Music and entertainment were luxuries that we couldn’t always afford.” He crosses his arms and stares at the speaker, sighing a bit, “Radio was free, if you could tune in,” his hand brushed over the speaker for a moment and he whispers, “Millions of miles and it’s still so clear.” Then his fist collided with the wall and Mirage took his arm, shaking his head some, “Come on, don’t be like that. Just enjoy the music. Don’t think about the mission for a klick or two.” Sighing slowly, Hound turned and looked at Mirage, nodding. Mirage smiled and offered a hand, “Come show me what this human music is about, huh?” Hound, shaking his head slightly, takes his hand, “You’re crazy.” Mirage smiled wider, “And you’re feeling better. Besides, we agreed to talk about your home the next time we were in Iacon." He spreads his free hand wide, “Welcome to Iacon.” Hound laughed and followed Mirage to the bar, leaning against it, though his visual feed was still turned down to the bare minimum and audio sensors only tuned for Mirage and now the music, a few more hours here wouldn’t kill him. 

———

A/N

Alright, sort of a short one today but I wanted to get a part up on Christmas for everyone to read when they need to avoid their family. Late on Christmas but still.

I swear I am going to write more for the twins, Breakdown, and Jazz next chapter I just have an easier time writing for Hound, even though he is a little OOC. I promise man’s love for nature and stuff is coming.

Tags!

@lunarlei68 @whirlywhirlygig @loop-hole-319 @pixillandjester @alek-the-witch @not-a-moose-in-disguise @goddessofwind8water @neurologicalglitch @dersereblogger @pixel-transformers @mrcrayonofdoom @wireplaces @twilightfreefaller @original-blog-name-2 @devilangel657 @robbin-u @childofprimus @miniartistme @starwold @tea-enthusiasm @valeexpris606 @celticdoggo @bird599 @agentsquirrelsgotrobots @aquaioart @dimencreasatlas @thatwandercat @artdagz @seisha974 @starscreamloverfr @halenhusky309 @leethepiper @cat-cassette @blue-wrens @sirassban @astridkolch @cosmique-oddity @garbageenthusiast @osqindaxend @xervias

And once again thank you to @keferon for this amazing AU!

[justbelievinginmagic]

the captain & his sea. davy jones!kim hongjoong x calypso!reader pt 3/ previous drabble / drabble masterlist 780 words. barely edited.

Since he could remember, Hongjoong knew he belonged to the sea. Being born of a sailor father and his mother dying in childbirth, it was only natural to think that the ship he grew up on was where he was meant to be. With the sweet-salt air tacky against his skin and the ever-luring light on the horizon taunting him that his adventure was not yet over, Hongjoong was a devoted sailor through and through. He never truly gained control of his land legs, preferring the rickety wood planks of a ship to the terrain of an island.

He had been in love with the sea for as long as he could remember.

His one and only love.

He had thought it had all changed when he met her.

Hongjoong almost was convinced she was a ghost when he first spotted her; the way the sun hit her skin seemed ethereal. Like an oil slick was upon her skin, she gleamed in the sunlight like the way the waves licking at the shore sparkled with an aurora of colors. She was sat on the docks of a port with her dresses damp with salt water spray and her feet bare, sticky with sand. Her eyes glanced at the bustling port from atop of her barrel like a queen overlooking her land. She smiled at the way some sailors thanked Poseidon for safe passage. She grinned as they set off once more, riggings clanking as they made sail.

An albatross landed beside her, cawing and chirping. Not a head turned to look. She didnt even flinch at the big bird. He almost thought she was invisible, but then there was the immediate follow-up question of how could anyone ignore something so beautiful?

He saw her there, against the sky. Sun on her shoulders, wind in her hair. And all he felt was that she was someone he’d always known. The curl of her lip, the calm yet chaos that radiated from her as she rose a hand to pet at the albatross.

“That there is a bad omen, you know,” he commented, his chin nodding towards the bird that chittered at the woman.

She smiled at him as if she knew he’d say that, and he felt the air get knocked out of his lungs.

“Is it now?” she chuckled. “I’ve been told women are bad luck as well.”

Hongjoong’s chuckles were a bashful thing as he watched as she leaned forward on her palms. Her intrigue in him felt special. He had watched her eye and glance away at many sailors that passed by her. Not one had caught her attention as he had. Not one looked at her with such admiration.

“Aye, some say that,” he agreed. His hand went to fiddle with the soft-brown hair that tickled his neck. “They say the sea – that she is a jealous lover. Can’t stand another lady around her men.”

She rolled her eyes lightly, but the fondness in her tone was palpable as a breeze on the ocean. “These tales you sailors make up.” It was gentle before she tilted her head. “Do you believe it?”

“That women are bad luck?” he clarified raising a brow.

“That the sea is a jealous lover?” It was a sharper query.

Hongjoong blinked at that, taken a back.

“No.” It was an easy thing to admit. “She isn’t. She is everything. The sea is powerful and mysterious and welcoming and cruel and wonderful. Her waves are my compass.”

“Hm.” It was a sound of approval. The bird beside her cawed and flew off as she shifted from her spot, shoving off the barrel and landing besides the sailor.

His hand went to grasp her arm to steady her. She felt sun-warmed. Humid-tacky. A wave of the smell of her brushed over him – warm, salt-tinged sweetness. Like salt-water taffy. Coconut cream, over-ripened bananas, the grit of sand. How could she be so much? He didn’t know anything except that he knew he was intrigued.

“What’s your name, sailor?” she queried, glancing the young man up and down.

Hongjoong stepped back then. His work-roughened hand left her skin – with it the static electric hum tingling up his arm.

“Hongjoong,” he replied.

She smiled at his name and, for the first time, something outshined the horizon.

“I sense a touch of destiny about you, Captain Kim Hongjoong.” She teased, stepping closer. Her smile sparkled as she leaned in. He had a fleeting thought of how did she know his name, his full name… but then she trailed her hand over his arm, boldly. Each stroke of her soft skin against his felt like heaven, like lightning climbing over his cells.

“Y/N.” she introduced as she interlaced their hands in a sort of greeting. Intimate and special, just like her. She squeezed his hand like an octopus capturing its prey.

“Y/N.” he echoed, enraptured by what vexed all men: a woman.

[billy-cockblock]

SWTD Theory

Still Wakes the Deep has been a huge brainworm for me the past few weeks, so I wanted to make a post with one of my takes. Someone’s probably thought of this already, but I can’t find anything about it, so here I go. 

I’m gonna take this time to shout out a little sub theory of mine that plays a bit of a part in my main point. 

For a little background, in populations of organisms, there are limiting factors on their growth and spread. Think of it as a series of funnels of different sizes: the rate of liquid that can flow through is going to be determined by the narrowest funnel. For example. if there’s a population that has ample food, space, and whatever else it needs, but has a restricted access to water, that water is going to limit how large that population could grow.

Before the Shape was dug up by the drill, it was probably dormant in the sea bed, doing its best to survive, the same as any other organism. Down where it was dark, wet, and cold, I think it had one main limiting factor: oxygen.

I don’t think the Shape can efficiently exchange gas underwater. Most of the untouched bodies Caz sees are only underwater, where an organism that thrives in air would struggle to access. Once it gets dug up and brought to air with plenty of organic matter to consume and grow with, its population explodes. When a limiting factor is removed, there’s nothing holding the population back any more until they hit a new limit. The Shape’s old limiting factor was removed, and it would only stop reproducing by running out of space to grow on the rig, running out of organic matter to use, or being killed (like, say, in a giant fiery explosion).

(I could go on and on about how the Shape potentially works, please feel free to ask me about it)

Now, I’ll get to my main theory:

I think Caz was dead the whole time.

Now, I don’t mean that in a “the whole game is in his head, none of it was real” way; I mean it in a “this man got Ethan Winters’ed” way. 

So, I started to do a little research into how tall oil rigs are to know how far Caz would have fallen off the helipad. I quickly learned there are many types of oil rigs and not every oil rig of the same type is the same size. I’m studying marine biology, not petroleum engineering like my brother, so I got tired of trying to guesstimate how tall the Bierra D’s helipad would be and attacked the problem with some simple math. 

Watching a video, I saw he fell for between 4-5 seconds; the acceleration due to gravity is 9.8m/s^2. Plugging that in a calculator while not accounting for air resistance to solve for distance gets me ~80-120m, depending on if I used the 4 or 5 second count, so I’ll guess around 100m. I’ve found many conflicting sources on what the tallest heights you can safely fall into water are, but I can safely tell you that 100m is much higher than any of them. 

Now, maybe the devs weren’t going with the mathematical exact timing it would take for a guy to fall off an oil rig, and didn’t mean for it to be implied that he fell from THAT high. Still, we can agree he fell from very high up, high enough to have likely ended in injury. Maybe he’d just fall on and break a leg? Maybe an arm or some ribs?

After falling off the rig, the last frame before Caz blacks out shows the water at the top of the screen, meaning he hits the water head-first. He may be wearing a hard hat (that somehow stays on his head through the whole ordeal since he clips his flashlight to it), but he still should have cracked his skull open or broken his neck. 

When they pull him out of the water, he’s cold and not breathing, which wouldn’t be unusual for a drowning victim in the North Sea in the dead of winter, but it would usually be a death sentence. They never explain how they dragged Caz out of the water, but it would presumably have taken a long time to get him out, and time is key when dealing with someone who isn’t breathing. The fact that he’s able to cough up water and start breathing on his own is a miracle, since it doesn’t sound like Brodie or Douglas do CPR when they bring him inside.

So, fall damage, head and/or spine injury, drowning, and hypothermia. By several different factors, Caz should be a very, very dead man. So why isn’t he?

My theory is that, somehow, somewhy, the infection from The Shape healed and brought him back to life. We know for a fact it has amazing generative properties, basically able to double, triple, quadruple the amount of tissue and organic matter in the crew’s bodies with no regard for conservation of mass, so what’s just a little regeneration of damaged tissues in a single body? Once Caz’s body gets someplace with better conditions suited to life (inside where it’s warm and there’s air), it just jumpstarts his body functions. The Shape’s presumably been dormant in the seafloor for a long time, so it could be able to go dormant and kinda “come back to life” as conditions change, similar to a tardigrade, and potentially pass this ability onto its hosts.

And Caz mentions how his head hurts a lot, especially when he gets close to the Shape. 

Now, this might seem like baseless conjecture, and y’all might say “That’s a good headcanon, but there’s no evidence that The Shape could bring people back to life!” to which I would say “Oh, but there might be!"

After the helicopter on the starboard side, we get a call from Bruce, who is actively drowning. Through his gasps, he tells us that O’Connor hurt his leg and couldn’t swim, presumably drowning. And guess who we see still kicking as we’re passing through the pontoon? My thought is that O’Connor couldn’t swim, drowned, and drifted to the bottom, landing on a part of the shape. Once Caz and Brodie start working in the legs and they drain, it exposes him to air and allows the shape to start growing again, assimilating him and bringing him back to life. 

Obviously, he’s not doing as well as Caz is. My thought was that, if Caz died as he was infected, the infection would’ve had to put a lot of its energy into bringing him back, not leaving much for itself to begin assimilating him into the Shape. Since O’Connor was in direct contact with the Shape, it could hook him up to its network to help supplement that loss. Caz, meanwhile, stays as far away from the stuff as he can and doesn’t even get anything to eat all day; guy's running on empty. He has small things where the Shape affects him, like the colors at the edge of his vision, but most of his hallucinations only happen after the Shape attacks him through O’Connor. Before, I’m pretty sure the largest incident (other than when he’s blacked out) is when we can barely hear Suze’s voice over the speakers when moving through the pontoon. It’s really only after getting attacked that he starts to hear her when he’s awake, near the Shape, or over phone calls. He only hears her clearly over the speakers in administration after he runs into the shape many times when he gets swept away in the flooding.

With my main evidence out of the way, I’ll also mention that Caz sees the “light at the end of the tunnel” from the end of the game in the oil flashes when he blacks out.

But hey, that’s just a theory. 

A GAME TH- I have received a cease and desist.

Man, this became a long read. Thanks for getting this far, and I hope you enjoyed!

[midnight-mourning]

‘Til the Bitter End

🐟🐟Midnight's DCA MerMay Day 10🐟🐟

guhhhhhh so much going on so little time, anyway, MORE EVIL PLEASE ENJOY

DCFPU prompt used: Oil Rig

Word Count: 1664

Content Warning: blood, death, canon typical violence, non-graphic depictions of gore

🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊

You strain your ears for any noise in the hall outside. The alarm stopped blaring ages ago, after that thing went through and destroyed the speakers one by one. The flash of the red light underneath the crack of the door is still present, however. Not that it mattered. No one was coming for you. Any of you. 

Anyone that was left, that is. 

The oil rig groans and creaks all around you, only a matter of time before at least some part of it slips into the ocean completely. You don't know which is the better end, drowning or—

Footsteps bang down the hall outside, only to be cut short by a sudden scream. There's a muted choking sound, followed by gurgling that makes your skin crawl. You hold your breath, waiting. 

From what you understand, it hunts based on sound and sight alone. You'll hope you're right with that mindset. 

After a moment, you hear scratching and sliding as the creature moves back down the hallway, away from you. 

You still wait several more seconds before taking a deep breath. 

You take it back, drowning is far better than whatever that was. 

It had been a normal work day, clear skies, everyone was in good spirits. Maybe a storm on the horizon but otherwise good. 

Until the supplies ship blew up. 

You'd been in the surveying area of the oil rig, shaken by the sudden blast. The rig began to tip, tip, tip, but otherwise everyone seemed okay. But then screams rang out on the topside below, and one glance down, only to see some sort of monster. Ripping your fellow crew members in half one by one, people fleeing left and right or slipping and falling into the waters below. 

It was horrifying, and it took everything in you to calm down and listen to what your boss had to say. 

Only for the creature to come bursting through the window, shattering the glass and breaking your boss' neck in an instant. 

You fled, what else were you supposed to do? The guilt of leaving your fellow crewmates behind would haunt you for as long as you were still breathing but it wasn't like that would be for much longer. 

Your entire body aches, you've been in the semi-same position for at least a day now. Only slumping down in the furthest corner of the room to sleep when you were too exhausted. Even that rest had been pathetic at best. 

You'd made it back to the crew quarters, not your own but someone's space at one point. Someone who was a snacker, which you'll always be incredibly grateful for. But snacking on saltines and cheese puffs wasn't sustainable for the rest of the foreseeable future. 

You don't know why the sea monster is still hanging around, pretty much everyone is dead. Your best guess is that it had intent, in that it wanted each and every one of you dead and gone. And based on how it had gotten quieter and quieter since you first holed up in here, you'd argue it's accomplishing that goal. 

There's a sound at the end of the hall. You strain to make it out. Once you realize it's calculated, rhythmic, you feel your heart leap to your throat. It's searching again. Shit. 

You thought since it just killed someone down this way you'd be fine, but you were obviously very wrong. 

As silently as possible you move to the corner you hid in last time, hoping this will work again. You once again hold your breath, and wait. 

The creature gets closer and closer, pausing at every room to search it properly. The door to the room you're in is locked, keyed, thankfully. You think it's more than intelligent enough to unlock doors. However, the gap is large enough for it to slide several long tentacles underneath and search about the room. 

And just like last time, it's almost able to reach your hiding spot in the small space. 

Almost.

The end of a tentacle swipes by the chair leg and you bite your cheek. It retreats, along with the rest and you relax slightly. After a little more time, you sigh. Guess you get to live another hour. 

There's suddenly a banging back down the hall coming towards you, and the door creaks on its hinges as it's ripped open. You can't even scream, a tentacle wrapping around your ankle and yanking you out into the hall. 

You wheeze as you lie there, your back having hit the steel floor on the way out. Your stare is locked on the ceiling, red light still glowing, not even having the energy to turn your head and face your soon-to-be-killer. 

It leers over you then, and you get your first real look at this thing. 

Two heads, attached to two separate torsos, joined literally at the hip. It looks... wrong, features melted together where they join. Covered in scars, and entirely different coloring for both bodies. One yellow and orange, one blue and white. 

They stare down at you, then to each other, muttering and chirping with no way for you to understand. The two halves seem to be bickering, though about what you aren't entirely sure. They must come to an agreement however, as you go from looking up to them to just the ceiling as they drag you down the hall. 

Given that from what you could tell all your friends were killed near instantly, being kept alive confuses you immensely. You don't know what purpose it could serve, everyone else had to be gone by now, maybe they just wanted to savor this. 

You hear a loud bang, then a scream. You lift your head enough to see another crew member being lifted by the throat, tentacles sliding across their face then into their mouth, nose, and—

You drop your head down, you don't need to see that. You can't do anything to stop yourself from hearing it though.

You hear a thud, then are back to being dragged. It's not the worst thing in the world, until you feel your back slide over another body. That makes your stomach crawl.

You feel the ground shift so that you're at a slight decline, heading towards the edge of the rig that's fallen in the water. You find out why soon enough.  

You're set up against the wall, and looking to your right you see dark, glistening water lapping at the edge of the sunken in floor. Oil, you quickly realize. 

The sea creature, with its two separate halves, looks down at you. The yellow half glares, seeming to try and kill you with its gaze. The blue half has a wicked grin, sharp, bloody teeth on display. You swallow. 

Without any hint of warning, you're snatched up, lifted by your ankle in the air. Hanging upside down, you're held above the oil. You writhe and thrash but it's no use, their grip is like iron. You can't see, shirt having fallen over your face. 

You're blinded by a red light after a moment. The creatures lift your shirt up, staring down at you with interest. One tentacle is lifted and moves towards you, to which you instantly flinch and close your eyes. 

Nothing happens, and you hear a sound akin to snickering. Peeking an eye open, you find both sides of the monster are laughing at you. You can only watch wide eyed as you're booped on the nose, with the creature chittering to itself. Both the yellow and blue side nod to each other, and you're suddenly plunging into the oil below. 

It's brief, a few seconds at most, but when you come up you're gasping for air. Oil is slick against your skin and in your mouth, suffocating you. It takes several coughs and hacks to be able to get a breath. The taste is horrid, the smell putrid. 

Dizzy, you barely register going under again, and again, and again. During one drop, your head bangs against the remains of the metal floor hidden beneath the dark liquid. The loud clang resonates throughout the space and your skull. 

At this, the creature immediately halts, shifting to hold you now upright by your shoulders. Chatter and cooing that means nothing to you. Your head droops forward, trying to comprehend how you're even alive in this moment. It's lifted by a hand now, two actually, one from each half. 

Your head clears just enough to think. And what you think, is that this creature has no plans of letting you go—or letting you die—anytime soon. Your arms hang by your sides, and limply, your fingers brush against something hiding in your pants pocket. Something that, given your line of work, should maybe have been banned to have on the rig, but your boss was a heavier smoker than you. 

It's a long shot, given it's probably soaked through with oil, but you're desperate. Anything for the sweet release a quick death will grant you. Besides, you might be able to give the monster in front of you exactly what it wanted. A completely destroyed oil rig with no hope of ever recovering, and an entirely dead crew to go along with it. 

It just comes at the cost of its life too. 

Your fingers brush again against your lighter, this time finding purchase. You tug it out of your pocket as discreetly as you can, and shakily fumble for the switch. Your fingers slip and slide and you fear dropping it at one point. 

The yellow half seems to notice the change of emotion on your face, your concentration. But by the time it glimpses down it's too late. By mercy or by mortal peril, your finger finds purchase, and the lighter sparks to life. 

The last thing you hear is otherworldly screeching, and the last thing you feel is the insurmountable pain of burning alive, and then nothing. 

Nothing at all. 

🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊

I think reader has died more in these evil drabbles than lived, which is a new record!! yay!!! ldjfkajlf anyway thanks for reading!

Masterlist post is here

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[thesleepyfable]

~ SWTD: Still Here AU Part 19: ~

No One to Dance With?:

Originally, I was going to have Trots reveal he didn't have any living relatives, so no one would come to see him. But, then we learned about Simon's deleted existence. Hopefully, I do him justice.

TW: One mention of Anti-LGBT and underage drinking.

Chapter 20:

5 years ago.

The Golden Eagle Pub was lively. Filled with its final patrons before Christmas. Singles and couples left it at standing room only. Music blared in the background of the smoke-filled building. Some couples danced in an open space. Teenagers, who were clearly underage, purchased their first beer. The Barmen didn't care. As long as they were getting money in the till. And nestled in the corner was Trots.

His tired eyes watched the couples, and he felt a sense of loneliness. Gibbo didn't come this evening because Jack was sick, and O'Connor went home with Mary last week. He looked away when his eyes locked with a woman and accepted that this was going to be another empty Christmas. Now, he stared at the half-empty glass of beer, unable to find the energy to drink it.

Yep. Another empty Christmas.

'Maybe I should have stayed on the rig?'

No one gave Trots any thought, but he felt unwelcome. Everyone in high spirits, he was the ominous cloud. The Ebenezer Scrooge. With a small sigh, he got up to leave. Then he heard a glass of beer being placed on the table.

'Thinkin' too much?' Trots didn't reply. He was too surprised by the stranger's handsome appearance, his eye widening and his jaw going slack. The man raised a brow. They both knew. 'Mind if I sit here?'

'Oh!' Trots said a little too loud for comfort. He recoiled, forcing his eyes to look away. Thankfully, the music and noise from the other patrons drowned out his voice. He coughed as a way to compose himself. 'Not at all.' The man didn't hesitate to sit down, but he kept a small distance. You had to. Unless you wanted the world to know your 'sinful secret.'

'So, you didn't answer my question.'

'Well, I guess I am,' Trots said with a shrug, his finger absent-mindedly tapping the glass. 'Christmas isn't the best time of year for me.'

'That's a shame.' The man took a swig of his beer. 'Christmas should be the best time of year for everyone.'

'Well, if I'm not here, I'm in the middle of the North Sea.'

'And, why would you go there?'

'For my job. Oil rigs need someone to keep them from tipping over.'

'And that's where you come in? Sounds like Hell on Earth.'

'Aye, and you're not wrong there.' This was a nice change of pace. 'What about you?'

'I drive a bus, so not nearly as exciting as you.'

'At least you stay on land.' The pair shared a chuckle. Trots still couldn't bring himself to finish his now flat beer. He was too enamoured by the man, but his eyes lingered back to the dance floor when another song began to play, making the locals dance and cheer again.

'No one to dance with?'

'No one to dance with.'

'Same. I mean. If we could, we should.' Trots was taken aback by the stranger's forwardness, despite himself being so quick to mention his work. He was stunned. Good thing they were huddled in the corner. It was especially good for him because Trots felt his face go completely red. He ran a hand over his face and mouth, but he couldn't stop himself from looking at the man, who was clearly finding it amusing. 'What's your name, handsome?'

'J-Johnathan.' Trots hadn't noticed the man had moved closer to him until he touched and played with his ear. Why did that make him feel good?

'Well, Johnny. How about we go and find somewhere we can dance?'

'Okay,' Trots replied, his voice breathless. The edges of his mouth formed a tiny smile. 'But what's your name?'

'...Simon...'

After what felt like an eternity, the pair broke eye contact. Simon's eyes lingered down to where The Shape had taken Trots. The look of shock turned to one of sadness. Maybe guilt. Guilt for not being there. His eyes were transfixed on the veins that pulsated through the discoloured flesh and small bubbled pockets of fat that appeared between the creases. He didn't know what to think. Trots began to understand how Muir felt last night.

'I know how this looks.' Trots stuttered through his words. In his panic, he thought he saw Simon take a step back, causing him to let go of the shovel and fall into the snow. In reality, Simon only shifted his weight because he wasn't correctly dressed for the snow. 'Fuck,' he muttered. What a sad state. He quickly reached for the shovel and pulled himself up whilst he adjusted his glasses. He could use his tendrils, but he didn't want to scare Simon off. The man didn't like surprises, and he certainly got one already. 'Look. I-I know I'm disgusting to look at, but-'

Simon approached and pulled Trots up by wrapping his arm under Trots' armpit. It certainly silenced the Health and Safety manager. He didn't think Simon would touch him, but he was so relieved he did. Simon wrapped his other arm around his chest, touching his exposed ribs. He didn't recoil though, just moved his hand further up when he noticed Trots shiver. 'Did you lose weight?' That broke the tension. Trots' look of surprise slowly vanished to relief. A smile graced his lips. He held back a laugh.

'No. Simon. I'm serious.' His smile didn't weaver though, and Simon picked up on that, who leaned his head against him before sneaking in a kiss on the cheek. Trots felt his heart melt.

Together, they made their way back to the porch. Trots sat in the rocking chair whilst Simon leaned against a beam. Seeing Trots struggle to do something as simple as getting into a chair stung. A knife to the heart.

'What the fuck did you get yourself into this time?'

'Well, it's not like I did this on purpose.'

'Then what happened?'

'I needed a new way to get the Union going.' A terrible joke with a forced smile. But Simon didn't smile back. Nor did he laugh. He kept his arms crossed and waited. The time for jokes was currently on pause. Trots' smile dropped, and he shuffled in his chair. 'I...I don't really know.' Simon listened to Trots tell his story from his perspective. From how the drill had hit something, to him hiding in the crew lounge, then finally his infection. How The Shape took his wrist when he went to see what was wrong at the window, moving up his arm as parts of it dug under his fingernails. The rest entered his mouth, turning him into a puppet before everything went black for several minutes. He had no idea why The Shape gave him a slug-like body and not something akin to Rennick or Addair. The only thing Trots could be thankful for, was that it gave him his upper body back.

Throughout it all, Simon's face turned into horror. How? How could something like that happen? And, why Trots? What did he do to deserve this?

'Eventually, Caz found me and then I saw myself. What I'd become. I want to be sick. The smell was awful. P-Probably still is.' It wasn't. 'I was just angry at everything. My mind was everywhere and nowhere at the same time.' A whimper escaped his mouth and Trots' hands began to shake as he recounted his memories. It was an eerie blur. Moments of clarity quickly came as they went, and it scared him. The Shape knew he was frustrated with the working condition and how messy the crew were, but Trots knew looking back that wasn't him. Somehow, it had twisted him into something he couldn't recognise. 'I wanted to hurt people, Simon.'

Simon quickly moved and knelt besides his lover, who by now, was fighting tears. The look of horror became a mix of pain and sympathy. Like telling a child their parent had passed away. Trots' glasses began to fog. Simon removed them, only to now get a good look at the glossed and grey hues that replaced the deep blue. 'I called out for you, but you didn't answer.' Now, the tears began to flow. 'You weren't there.'

'But, I'm here now, Johnny.'

Simon pulled him in for a hug. Trots clung to his coat. He didn't want to let go. If he did, would he vanish? They stayed like that for at least thirty seconds before Simon broke the hug, moving his hands to rest on Trots' shoulders. His soft smile returned. He reached and played with Trots' ear to help the man calm down. It worked, and that feeling of Trots' heart melting, whilst his face went red, returned. Trots held Simon's wrist. His head leaned into his hand, and he closed his eyes for a moment.

'I'll never go back. I promise.'

'Good. I missed you.'

'No one to dance with?'

'No one to dance with.'

A sense of calm wrapped the pair up like a warm blanket. All their worries disappeared. Neither of the men thought of what might happen in the future. Trots will never live a normal life again. They both knew that. But, right now, who cares? The warmth brought them close and in for a kiss.

Trots cupped Simon's face in his hands. Simon wrapped his arms around Trots' chest, and just for a minute, reality vanished around them.

[melkyt]

Oil Rig Doctor Law with Luffy as an eldritch creature somebody unleashed through a ritual on this poor unsuspecting boi xd

Alot of horror-games like this have vibes of the non-human eldritch being pick one guy and be like

'I like that one, I am going to put it through unimaginable horrors but in like a flirty way, and at the end we're gonna kiss'

So yeah Law, those weird eyes and hands reaching out as you're running about terrified trying to survive are just flirting, when he breaks down crying and screaming at the top of the oil rig as he realises that there is no way out. Despreate, scared.

Luffy feels a little bad and shows up in the approximation of the human form, still some uncanny valley to him, picks Law up and carries him to the beach.

Law passes out and doesn't remember how he escaped, just remembers it felt warm

This would be the second game/book, where this once respected doctor goes off the deepend as far as his friends and colleagues are concerned as he looks for the creature.

Taking a boat out to sea or some uninhabited island that worshiped Luffy/Nika, and slowly uncovers the truth.

Luffy at this point has been watching and probably on his crew. Nobody knows who he or where he came from so they assume Law hired him, and the kid is fun and excitable but kinda gives the seasoned sailors and professionals the creeps but they know enough that anything that creeps you out on the ocean needs to be respected or risk death.

Luffy laughing the entire time he watches Law fumble with trying to find out his lore, and sometimes just being thinking so much about the mortal, his power effects Law with weird hallucinations that feel like thoae intricate hidden object and puzzle games point and click horror gamez love xd

Law is kinda having alot of fun even if he is just a little unnerved everythingnis happening and questions if he is loosing his mind

Eventually the two of them meet in the depths of the mansion/world that Nika Luf's power creates. And it just tells him thats its a bored god and its not that deep, and that it likes him.

It could ask normally, like 'lets date for your short human life' but thats not its vibe

Luffy Nika leaning in, brushing his fingers over Law's jaw, so small and fragile. He could break the human with ease.

Its not words, its more a feeling that Law translates to 'Do you wish to feed my insatiable desires in eternity'

Law nods, he didnt come this far to back up from making out with a concept beyond his understanding.

They kiss

Luffy is just 'score, tottally knew this would work on the rig'

Law blinks and hss to come to terms that his love language is actually terrifying, and it will be something to get used to. And he will now that he is not losing his mind xd.

Others going to his office might not share the same chill attitude about the eyes staring from the ceiling or the walls that move sometimes. Nor the doctor's boyfriend whose eyes are a little to wide, and teeth a little to sharp.

[thevanillerose]

MEMORY | 9S x 2B | NIER:AUTOMATA

~ WRITING COMMISSIONS ~ ~ PATREON ~ ~ KO-FI ~ ~ NOVELS ~

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not own anything except my own writing. All properties belong to their respective creators.

“The black box...it's ready.”

How did things come to this? 2B looked up at her silver-haired companion, whose artificial face was already littered with crude nicks and slight smears of black oil. The air was damp, carrying with it the smell of the sea that surrounded them.

And it wasn't the only thing that surrounded them. On all sides, great mechanical beasts stood. Rusty, giant, sentient oil rigs. Goliaths They had been sent to track down one. They had been confronted by four. Three now remained, steadily walking closer, shifting slowly through the grey waves below in order to reach them and growling as they did so.

This is it. She took a breath. There was no other way out of this besides doing what 9S had just suggested. If they detonated their black boxes then the Goliaths would get caught up in the blast, and they would be destroyed too. Technically...their mission would be a success.

However... However, it was unlikely that they themselves would survive. Impossible actually. They would be at the heart of it when it happened. If the blast had enough of a radius to annihilate the massive robots around them, then it would completely obliterate that which was right next to it. And that would be...the two of them.

Death was an interesting concept to consider. For androids it was different of course. Not only did they lack the same emotions and considerations that humans had, but they also had a back up. Literally. Their memories, their bodies, all of it could be restored if necessary, provided it had been prepared in advance. Which it had been.

If they 'died' here, they'd just come back again up at The Bunker. Really, it was nothing. But still...

Grunting, and letting out a strained cough which he stealthily covered with one slightly shaking, black gloved hand, 9S held his box up with the other. “...Right.” 2B brought forth her own.

“Requesting...destruction of enemy hostiles via black-box-” 9S stopped. He didn't finish his sentence. Something made him stop. Something made him choke. “9S?” 2B questioned, a little 'panic' rising in her throat. Looking around quickly she could see that those malevolent robots were only drawing closer and closer. “-We don't have much time.” she stressed, though kept her voice level. Shouting, worrying...it would be wasted effort in a scenario like this.

“I...I know.” 9S tried to speak again, but he was unable. “Initiate...re...”

“9S...”

Why am I hesitating? I should have been prepared for this. The male android gripped the slightly textured cube even tighter in his hand. He'd taken the necessary precautions. What was most important was that 2B's own memories were backed up. Sure, she'd be wiped out down here, but up there she'd come back and it would practically be like nothing happened. She'd miss a few minutes at worst. However, in his case it wasn't quite the same.

Sure. YoRHa had his model on hand. Yes...he'd come back. And yes, memories would be there too.

But he wouldn't be the same.

This was so silly. It was just a simple, singular memory. In the long run it would do little to benefit him. It certainly wouldn't help him become a more capable unit. Yet why did he feel so protective of it?

That little moment they'd had...together...

…

“Look at this place, 9S.” “...Wow...it's...breathtaking...”

Melancholy. If any word could sum up the sight before them succinctly, it would be 'melancholy'. The Earth...abandoned, broken, overgrown. Yet strangely beautiful in its own damaged way. Once grand skyscrapers now lay toppled like grey mottled dominoes, their windows spilling with lush green vines that grew and trailed down to the moss ridden ground. The sky above was a sad sort of blue, slightly clouded. The air was warm yet the city felt so empty...

Just the two of them, standing there atop one of the many abandoned buildings, taking in the grand sight before themselves. 9S didn't feel so lonely with 2B standing there next to him. He ought to never feel lonely at all given what he was, but the feeling still came and went.

Colorless eyes scanning the scenery behind a shadow, they settled upon something that most would consider rather small and insignificant, but to him stood out. Perhaps it was because it had such vibrant color. The flower's petals were a bright shade of magenta, which contrasted starkly with the cracked gray ground it was growing from. Curiously, 9S approached, crouching down and examining the plant.

He pulled it free from the soil and held it between his fingers, staring at it for a moment. Those same seemingly cold eyes then drifted over to the girl who stood at the opposite end of the rooftop, no doubt already making plans in her head for how to scout this area. 2B almost looked picturesque in her own way, her slender, stern figure standing there against a canvas of greys and blues.

With resolve on the mind, 9S straightened up again and walked over to the girl, taking her hand and giving her the flower without any alert. 2B didn't jolt, but she did look at him through her combat visor, and noted the little gift he had given her. Though she didn't assume it was a gift at first, when she raised it to her eyeline and gave it a good examination. Glancing at him again, 2B questioned:

“Do you want this to be submitted for analysis?” “No it's...” 9S trailed off. If that were the case then he'd have looked into it himself.

“-It's a present.” “A present?”

2B spoke the word as if it were foreign to her, even though she of course knew what it meant. She was an android, not an alien. However, androids had little use for 'presents', certainly when they were programmed to do missions and little else. Though 2B didn't reject it. Instead, she drew the little offering to her chest and held it there for a while, raising her head again and looking out over the city once more.

It was a simple gesture. 2B chose to keep it, but perhaps she had only done so out of politeness. Still. It meant something to him.

…

The last time I backed up my memories...was before that happened. There's no time now...

“9S-” “I'm fine.”

He tilted his own box towards hers, shifting a little closer to his fellow android. “Requesting destruction of enemy hostiles...via black-box reaction.”

“...Request accepted.”

Like my writing? I can write for you! Check out my WRITING COMMISSIONS!

[theallianceofcelestials]

Could we have an ETD drabble?

Where Eclipse finds some child on the oil rig (Presumably one of the dead workers', or simply snuck onto a boat or helicopter to there), an the child immediately cling onto Eclipse because he 'seemed familiar ' in a sense?

Well EtD is based on a game called Still Wakes the Deep, which takes place in the 1970s. There's no bring your kid to work day then to the best of my knowledge, and even if there was, it's not really possible for anyone to bring their kid onto board. Especially seeinga as they spent months out on the sea, without visiting family, aside for the holidays, which only lasts for a couple weeks. There's no way a child was brought onto an oil rig, especially when to the best of my knowledge, they at least somehow monitored who was brought on.

So Eclipse can't meet a freshly orphaned kid on an oil rig, cuz there's no way one's there. He CAN however meet a kid on the mainland

Also, kinda struggled with this one. Which is why it took so long. Might stop doin drabbles for a bit again, haha. But only after the next one, which will be the last, seein as it's been sittin in the askbox for a bit too

Eclipse will have to admit, seeing his lover in action on the mainland was something. And not neccessarily something good.

Ruin and him both know he's currently hiding, even if neither of them really wants to say it out loud. Instead they call it Eclipse taking a break.It's much better like this for both of their health and mood. This way they can avoid... unneccessary talks.

Like how he's kind of terrified of his eldritch horror lover, and how said eldritch horror lover is hurt by this.

It's not like he's doing it on purpose. He wants to be calm around his lover, he really does! It's just that...

Seeing him effortlessly murder people who never did anything to Eclipse, mainly children, just doesn't sit right with him.

So right now he's taking a walk, hoping it'll clear his head from all the screaming that's already quietened. If only because he's out of the immediate 'danger' zone.

He just didn't count with running into people

There, hiding under the overhang of a house, is a child tellingly covered in blood. He recognises him, if only because of the fiery red hair and the vibrant green eyes. The child also seems to recognise him too.

But instead of doing the logical thing, running away and screaming, the child cries out, and throws himself at Eclipse's feet, latching on with surprising strength.

He tries to gently shake the child off, if only because he doesn't want the kid to die and touching him is a surefire way to, but no matter how he tries he just wouldn't budge. He insists on curling around him more.

"Kid, you should really let go-"

"NO!"

Somehow he becomes more sticky, and Eclipse stops trying to pry him off with a deep sigh.

He can't really blame the kid. Especially when he's more than likely orphaned.

"So you gonna cling to me?"

"Yes" and he really has to strain to hear the next part "You're familiar..."

He frowns at that, more than sure he never really met this random kid before. Especially because he's spent most of his life out on the sea, which is actually kind of sad now that he thinks about it. There's no way they've ever met.

But then he frowns, thinking back to how he was surrounded with detectives and whatnot after the first rig, and amongst those people were newspaper people. They're called journalists he thinks?

"Did you see me in the paper?"

The kid doesn't nod, but he also doesn't shake his head, so it's a maybe. Not that surprising honestly.

Probably one of his parents used to read the paper before... well...

Best not to think about it

"Love"

Fuck

The small arms tighten around him, and he turns his head to look at Ruin, who's busy eyeing the child wrapped around his leg

"What is that?"

Well shit. He really doesn't want to see this little turd get murdered

"Just some scared kid. Ran from the dock area all the way here"

"Ah"

Mismatched eyes continue to stare, and he shifts just the tiniest bit until he's shielding the child from view. The subtle frown of his lover lets him know it was noticed.

"Do you want me to take care of it?"

It's said so casually it scares him. But what else was he expecting from his lover? He's an eldritch horror for crying out loud!

"Not neccessary." then because apparently they're doing this anyway: "I don't like you killing kids."

Ruin frowns, closing off with an air of something Eclipse can't quite parse. He just knows it's not positive

"Very well"

And then the avatar disappears, leaving him with the child clinging to him and a bitter taste in his mouth.

They'll need to talk later

[urautismdiagnosis-wistie]

You know what?

You know analog horror right? Like The Backroom, The Mandala Catalogue, Angel Hare, Arcadia, and The Walten Files?

I would like there to be an Octonauts Analog Horror.

In the 80s/90s/early 2000s, the US Government decides to make a secret experiments to use human test subjects and turns them into animals to use them in organizations where it is impossible for humans to be.

For some test subjects, they’re willingly members of the government. But for the others, not so much…

For example: A young kid who dreams of becoming a doctor is kidnapped and experimented on, turning him into a penguin.

Ok, this is a long shot but it’s a cool idea and I want to see it.

did end up making some sketches further down the post

Honestly I had thought of something similar! Just uh, without the existanxe of humanity and all XD (sorry I took 98 years to respond btw)

Although the idea is very fascinating, id personally need some sort of driving force for the Why. Id understand changing human DNA to be more adaptable to those environments instead of making robots, but a more intense transformation (like a human being to an avian animal) would be alooott more difficult

I am familiar with analog horror however and its a pretty cool medium!

Personally,I'm working on my oil rig comic, but I'm hoping afterwards I can work on my next one. Alot of the ideas on it are all still pretty rough but I'm personally a cryptid creature fan :> so I actually had some ideas for a sort of "horror" scenario (its really more comedic lol, at least to me)

As for an ACTUAL horror au I did consider something similar to that one roblox game I've heard about, "Pressure" i think?

The idea of that game is basically like secret underwater SCP foundation but evil with an abandoned base lol. So thus hypothetical au would actually be inspired by that! Things like cryptid creatures, the "remains" of abandoned experiments, and etc lurking within this secret water zone only for the octonauts to stumble onto lol

I'm very nitpicky about my own worldbuilding personally, but honestly you've got a pretty strong, interesting, and compelling base to this au!

And honestly I think a lot of people would be interested in you making some stuff for it! Might even inspire some folks to make art for it :3 of course, you ain't even gotta draw amazing to make aus btw :>

You can use text (like analog horror style), writing, mini simple comics, lore posts, and even include real life images of the deep sea and etc to like? Add an aesthetic with different fonts of text and etc! There's tons of possibilities.

Also if u do choose to make art, even if you're "not an artist" don't be afraid to make "bad art" ! Every artist starts somewhere after all ^v^

Your au definitely needs some expansion, so I definitely recommend deciding what scenes or events or emotional sentiments you NEED (sketched some ideas:

click for higher quality^

I thought maybe pesos father could have worked for this organization? Been forced to work for them? Maybe it was blackmail or some deal made by adults that put peso in the situation he was in? Does he feel betrayed by his dad? I dont know but I'm thats where my brain went lol enjoy

And then work on WHY and how? Like how did he get there? Why did they specifically choose him? How does he meet the others? Were they taken as children as well? Did any choose this path? Wouldn't peso not be happy with this? Wouldn't peso want to share this violation of self with the world? Was he tricked into silence or forced into it? Does he think its really for the better that he's become what he is? Things like that!

Good luck fr <3

[orcinus-veterinarius]

Hiya! Would you be willing to explain why keeping captive right whales is completely nonviable, as you mentioned? I’m fascinated, but the adhd simply will not let me parse scientific papers.

That's a fantastic question! While it would be wonderful if captive breeding were a viable option for this critically endangered species, it just isn't possible under any realistic conditions.

For starters, their size. Orcas are the largest mammals successfully held in captivity, and we all know how difficult (and controversial) that is, with only a very small handful of facilities ever pulling it off with any semblance of success. Tilikum, the largest captive orca (although I believe that record has since been overtaken by a male in China), was 22.5 feet (6.9 meters) long and weighed 12,500 pounds (5,700 kg). Most other orcas in human care, particularly the females, are considerably smaller. Compare that to a northern right whale. Even the smallest adults are over 40 feet long—double Tilikum's length—and weigh 88,000 pounds (40,000 kg)—seven times his weight—while the biggest specimens on record reached up to 61 feet (18.5 m) and an incredible 234,000 pounds (106,000 kg).

A tank for an animal that size would be far beyond anything we have the ability to engineer and maintain. Think of how deep it would have to be for the whale to even turn around! The water pressure would be astronomical, wreaking havoc on the building materials even if it were possible to build the structure. And remember—someone has to dive to clean it! Our theoretical right whale habitat would have to be a sea pen, but even the 100-acre facilities proposed with orcas in mind are nowhere near deep enough. While right whales are considered to inhabit "coastal" waters, they do not live right up by the shoreline, like certain orca ecotypes and other small delphinids. They are a pelagic species, designed to live out in the open water column, as are all baleen whales. So, the pen would have to be a floating habitat miles out into the open water (think of an offshore oil rig), with netting sturdy enough to not be destroyed by a 50 ton whale and long enough to extend hundreds of feet to the ocean floor. We're talking probably thousands of square miles of netting, that would have to be routinely inspected for safety and upkeep. So, you would probably need a submersible, since no human can dive that deep. On top of that, it would be difficult to find such a larger stretch of ocean in their habitat without shipping lanes, underwater noise, or pollution. And let's just forget about the logistics of staffing that place—or worse, funding.

Additionally, we wouldn't be able to feed them by tossing fish into their mouth like with dolphins. Northern right whales feed on tiny crustaceans and zooplankton, cruising along and filtering the creatures from the water with their baleen. Assuming our right whale keepers were somehow able to acquire the insane amount of food the whale requires (potentially over 5000 pounds of zooplankton a day), it would need to be scattered throughout the massive habitat to facilitate feeding. I imagine this would probably look something like the way Georgia Aquarium feeds their whale sharks from a little boat, although on a much larger scale. And since the food obviously can't be kept alive, we would need to develop someway of delivering the daily vitamins that are lost in the freezing process—and to keep hundreds of tons of krill frozen on a floating kitchen in the middle of the ocean.

Of course, the ultimate goal of this project would be to breed northern right whales... that means we need to take everything we just talked about and double it, at a bare minimum. For the breeding program to be successful, it would need a whole lot more than just two whales. And unfortunately, even if we lived in world with magical floating thousand-acre sea pens, unlimited krill, and endless money... we still don't know if it would even work. Right whale breeding habits are poorly understood, with the whales mating in cold northern waters before migrating 1,000 miles south to calve. Despite our best theoretical efforts, these migratory patterns could very well be necessary for successful reproduction.

Thank you again for the ask! This was actually a lot of fun to think about! If you want to read about JJ, the only baleen whale ever successfully housed in (temporary) human care, you can find an article and pictures here.

[thearticelheaven]

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[focsle]

I've seen you answer a few asks about whaling history before, so hopefully I'm not offbase asking you questions out of the blue? But anyway, how did people bathe (or keep clean if not by bathing) during long sea voyages?

Not off base at all! Out of the blue whaling history questions are some of my fav asks to receive; I find them thrilling. I can’t help but write an essay every time.

It was particularly hard to keep clean on a whaler, and whalemen were often disparaged by those in other maritime professions. In 1839, naval Lieutenant Charles Wilkes said of the crew of the whaleship America, 

“I have seldom seen at sea a more uncombed and dirty set of mariners than his crew.“

J.E. Haviland of the Baltic, 1856, complained of besmirching his journal pages with the grime that he was unable to scrub off his hands after tarring the rigging, self consciously saying:

“My hands + clothes would look beautiful for a ladies Parlor. I see they even collor the paper but I cannot get the tar out. The Old Man says he intends to have me tar down the rigging a few days before we get in New Bedford so that I shall not forget too soon that I have been a sailor.”

General ships’ work  such as tarring could be messy, but a whaler’s work was even messier. When trying out blubber it was futile to attempt maintaining any semblance of cleanliness during the process. William Abbe of the Atkins Adams, 1859, said that during boiling, a watch would turn in to their bunks a few hours rest, merely ‘after wiping off your bare body with oakum to take off the thickest of the oil”.

But the gore and oil wasn’t forever. After the particular job was done the ship would be meticulously cleaned, and the whalers would tend to themselves too. As Herman Melville wrote,

“The crew themselves proceed to their own ablutions; shift themselves from top to toe; and finally issue to the immaculate deck, fresh and all aglow, as bridegrooms new-leaped from out the daintiest Holland. Now, with elated step, they pace the planks in twos and threes, and humorously discourse of parlors, sofas, carpets, and fine cambrics; propose to mat the deck; think of having hanging to the top; object not to taking tea by moonlight on the piazza of the forecastle. To hint to such musked mariners of oil, and bone, and blubber, were little short of audacity. They know not the thing you distantly allude to. Away, and bring us napkins!”

Haviland expressed gratitude in getting a chance to get clean after all the work of boiling blubber was done:

“I feel much better to day I have given myself a good wash + a clean shave + got in all clean clothes. You would not have known your own son if you could have seen him yesterday. I was nearly black with smoke + dirt. (with shame) I say it was the accumulation of 2 months dirt + 4 months beard. Everything looks as clean + bright as it did before we took the whale”

Being able to bathe was such a highlight that Abbe titled one of his journal pages “Washing myself!!” With TWO exclamation points!

“I write with pride in my fastidious journal that this morning I washed my face + hands with castile soap + fresh water — when shall I do the like again? When shall I write the pleasant and comfortable fact that I have shaved? The future and fair weather only can tell.”

The ship’s slop chest—its general store—had toiletries for sale, often at a very high premium. Whaling account books show men buying pounds of oil soap for their own personal stores. The fresh water was often rainwater collected for this purpose, rather than the casks set aside for drinking.

“This has been a rather squally day,” wrote Mary Lawrence, whaling wife who accompanied her husband on his ship Addison in the 1850s. “Considerable rain has fallen, and everybody on deck is using an abundant supply of rainwater for washing purposes.” She also added, though this is speaking of laundry rather than bathing, “Having stopped up the scuppers, the use the whole deck for one grand washtub.”

They’d use the sea, too. John Martin of the Lucy Ann, wrote of bathing via rain and sea whilst near the equator on January 24th, 1842.

“Towards noon the rain came down in torrents. The weather being sultry the watch on deck shipped off their shirts to it. John the boat steerer went entirely naked with the exception of a handkerchief tied around his privates. In the afternoon it cleared away, when I asked permission from the Captain for the crew to take a bathe over the side. He said we might do it if we rigged a studding sail over the side, which was soon done & all hands that could swim were to be seen jumping from different parts of the ship. Some went out to the end of the flying jib boom & jumped off there. Even the dog was thrown overboard & got his share of washing. I like bathing at sea but for one thing, and that is sharks. I always have a fear that one might be hovering about and give one a nip before he was aware of it.”

It was challenging for whalers to keep clean by nature of the job, but man when they were able to they really seemed to revel in it. For many of them it was more than just a bath; it was a symbolic return to a home they were long away from, or to the man they perceived themselves to be back on shore, or of a society that they felt cut off from in their line of work.

If you’re interested I also wrote a thing about doing laundry on whaleships too, yonder!

[teapotteringabout]

Stingray Ep 3 - Sea of Oil

Ironically, oil famously doesn’t mix well with water yet it makes quite a good Stingray episode. It’s not a name that’s aged particularly well, especially in a world of Just Stop Oil and Deepwater Horizon disasters. You’ll be glad to know that this is the first of my much shorter reviews as we’re starting to get into the general rhythm of Stingray. Underwater duo attack something, Stingray investigates, they tussle with duo. Today an oil rig is attacked and of course this is the worst thing to happen in the history of humanity ever. We do have to remember that this was made in the early 1960s when environmentalism wasn’t quite the thing it is today.

Now, the reason I rank this episode so highly is because of Atlanta, and certainly because of the dynamic between her, Troy and Marina. Bear with me here.

We open with a very satisfying scene of an oil rig getting destroyed (just because the effects are so well done). Stingray is deployed to investigate and Atlanta’s come along for the ride to establish a surface base. Troy seems a little awkward about this arrangement.

I like to think that it’s because it’s dangerous work and he doesn’t want her getting hurt. That might be me snorting cope. But you can see why it’s so easy to call Troy a two-timer. I do hate that for him, and I hate him for that.

Also isn't it interesting that Atlanta's here, so Marina has her arm on Phones. Intriguing hmmmm

So with that in mind, lets have a look at this wonderful exchange between Team Stingray and Team Oil Rig.

It’s actually canon and acknowledged that Troy and Atlanta are a couple and Troy knows he’s a lucky man for it. So a couple episodes later the character assassination is just tragic.

Anyway, Preston the Oil Rig man is a smooth talker.

1960s everyone. I think this is a good time to point out that the dur hur I love silent women joke isn’t actually that prevalent in the series. We’ll hear it a couple of times from Commander Shore, but that’s all, and he’s the older gent of the group who might be more prone to making outdated jokes. Troy and Phones certainly don’t make such jokes at any point in the series, and that knowledge really does make my heart swell.

We see what they’ve been deployed to do – Stingray guards the drill while it’s active and Atlanta relays instructions from the rig. The enemy craft of the week does get picked up on the hydrophones, but Phones quickly loses it and it’s assumed to be an echo from the drill. I like that this is included, showing that the enemy is always there and is observing, and their spotting Stingray dictates their next actions.

When the work is done for the day, the lads catch up with Preston the Oilman and it’s here that we’re introduced to Oink the seal.

Just as in previous Gerry Anderson productions (Bobby and Mitch in Supercar and Venus and Zoonie in Fireball XL5) we now get an animal companion duo in Marina and Oink. I can only imagine how many lozenges David Graham needed after voicing Oink, but not as many as Zoonie – because while Zoonie is there for the entire Fireball series, Oink will vanish about halfway through. And thank Cod for that. Oink looks cute, but I cannot stand his vocals and he adds nothing to the story. If anything, he makes things more confusing, which I’ll get to in a couple posts time. He would have been much better off making a one-off appearance in this episode because this is the best performance he gives – we’ll get to that soon.

For all my irritation at this character, I do love his puppetry. Look at this good boi.

Unbenownst to the gang, evil submarine hides underneath Stingray, and that night, an evil pair of evil green arms plant an evil stickerbomb on the hull. It's one of the rare occasions where the puppetry leaves a bit to be desired. I think a live-action close-up shot would have been better.

Troy and Phones have a nice little exchange about Marina sitting on the deck enjoying the ocean view. I love the implication that Phones is a chatty guy come bedtime and Troy, as we'll see often in the series, loooooves sleep.

Atlanta is sleeping aboard Stingray when she’s kidnapped by some wet footprints. Marina is sitting on the hull of Stingray’s nose at the time, and so witnesses the event. I can only assume someone got aboard Stingray without her knowing by using the aft hatch which someone left open? Because for security reasons I would assume random people can’t just open submarine hatches from the outside??

Anyway, we get our first proper shot of Marina swimming underwater and the effect is beautiful. In addition to being filmed through a thin fishtank like all the underwater shots, a fan is blown to simulate her hair and dress flowing through water.

In terms of Marina's actions, when I first watched this, I thought we’d still get that bitchy girl rivalry, and Marina would be like “oh what a shame, Atlanta’s gone, want me to keep you company, Troy?” and when Atlanta is inevitably rescued, the whole escapade is laughed off in an “aren’t these girls crazy over you, Troy?” kind of way. But, thank Teufel, no. Marina immediately sounds the alarm.

I just love that it’s Phones who’s straight into action and Troy “Action Man” Tempest is 14-year-old me at 11am.

Anyway, he’s all battle stations go when he learns that Atlanta’s been kidnapped. I love the urgency in his voice, how he’s demanding to know what happened and urging that they need to find her immediately.

They start submerging and the sticker bomb is triggered to explode when it does. Thankfully, Stingray’s instruments pick up a fault with the Surface Video Scanner or SVS (the periscope thingy) so the dive has to be aborted. Upon investigation, it’s because Oink is sat in front of the SVS lens, blocking its view. He’s also found the sticker bomb.

The Stingray crew manage to dive out of the way of the ensuing explosion and at first they assume Oink has been killed. I’m glad he wasn’t, as animal death is very dark for most Anderson shows, but I do wonder how a whole seal managed to get inside Stingray without anyone noticing. Anyway, as I said earlier, this is the one time Oink does anything substantial – he accidentally saves the Stingray from being blown up by a sticker bomb that Mr Wet Footprints had left on the hull.

Let’s get back to Atlanta, and for me the highlight of the episode. She reasons with her kidnappers – Nefir and Gerit – and we learn that it’s all a big misunderstanding. They thought the drilling was an attack on their home, not just a harmless oil rig. Whoever got hurt from an oil rig? In fact, they’ve got oil for miles in their home that they’d gladly share with the humans. Sweet!

Seriously though, look at the detail of the set when their craft is transported on a monorail over a whole lake of bubbling, steaming oil. I don’t think oil ought to be hot when drilled, but I digress. It’s even dripping down the walls of the cavern.

And look at the interior of their base. Like Titanica and several other bases we'll see, this new colour TV tech has made brightly coloured villain lairs the in-thing. I'd love to know why these guys have what a mural of a green-haired hollow-eyed tits-out lady. Presumably she's a deity. It's little tit-bits of worldbuilding that make many of these undersea races really come alive.

Nefir (bearded dude) and Gerit (clean-shaven dude), despite planting a bomb on Stingray, do turn out to be quite sweet dudes. They even appear to give Atlanta a shawl and apologise and comfort her when they hear the bomb explode, assuming Stingray has been blown up.

Also when the sticker bomb explodes, it’s heard down here too and Atlanta’s little devastated gasp of “Oh! Troy!” is so well-acted by Lois Maxwell. Like you can really hear the despair and shock in her voice. Lois Maxwell is a star and this won’t be the last time I simp over her.

It’s quickly established that Stingray has survived the explosion, and though Atlanta, Nefir and Gerit are overjoyed and relieved, they quickly realise they have a new problem – when Stingray finds the entrance to their cave door, Troy will try to rescue Atlanta via the Michael Bay Method of blowing shit up, and that’s not so great for a civilisation sitting on an oil well. Also, as Nefir states, the “mighty ocean will rush in”, which could indicate that this race of people can’t actually breathe underwater. Sure, water rushing in quickly could well crush any marine being, or smack them with debris. But we do actually meet other undersea races who can’t breathe underwater so I like to think this is one of them.

The underwater technology is so different to Terranean equipment that there is no way they can stop the attack or tell Troy that Atlanta is safe. As such, Atlanta bravely urges Gerit to take her on his ship and try and stop them. It’s a huge risk as without any way to communicate, they would be interpreted as an enemy and blown up, but the alternative is certain death when Stingray locates their city. It all makes Troy sound quite extreme actually. Shoot first, ask where Atlanta is later, especially on a craft that won’t be threatening them in any way, or you have no actual proof is involved.

In any case, Atlanta and Gerit go back out in their submarine to try and stop Stingray. There’s a wonderfully tense scene where Phones has picked up their echo and starts counting down to their firing distance. It’s then that Atlanta comes up with the genius idea that if she uses the motors to send a Morse Code message, Phones would hear it on the hydrophones. This is objectively brilliant. It’s using these two characters’ core skillset perfectly and it’s pretty much the only time that Troy is not the hero of the day. Enjoy it while it lasts.

There’s no music at all while Atlanta relays her message with the motors, and, heartbreakingly, it seems to be too late as Phones reaches zero and gives the command to fire.

THEN he hears the message through his hydrophones, and gives the urgent command to destroy the sting missile remotely.

I love that as well as the hydrophone 'pings', you can also hear Atlanta's message through Phones's headset.

All’s well that ends well, with Troy and co meeting Nefir and Gerit properly. Nefir also has an odd remark at the end: “especially when we nearly cost you your wives”. Now, after some confusion from Troy, it’s established that he meant ‘lives’. That’s fine, English is unlikely to be your first language when you’re a literal sub-seabed race. Firstly, I would say an apology is warranted on Troy’s side too, for nearly killing Atlanta and Gerit. Secondly, I can’t help but wonder if ‘wives’ was the word specifically chosen for the script because we’re still very much in Troy’s questionable triangle era.

Anyway, we wrap up the episode with a scene that made me spit out my tea when I first saw it.

Is that oil or are you pleased to see me?

As a while, this episode is a solid A for Atlanta. S for Star, because she is one. She’s calm and brave, risking her life to go in the submarine to try and contact Stingray, and clever to message them in an unconventional way. This is the first ‘Atlanta centric’ episode and believe me, they tend to be absolute bangers.

The show at this point continued to subvert my expectations with Marina going out of her way to kick-off Atlanta's rescue rather than maintain a bitchy rivalry. Oink, as annoying as he is, is cute and at his most useful to the plot in this episode. We also have our first glimpse of an underwater race that isn't Titan's lot or Pacificans, and though in fitire episodes these other races will be fully villains, it's lovely to see friendly ones who want to befriend the humans, and the Stingray crew acting as less a military force and more a PR link between sea and land.

Remember when I said this would be a shorter review?

[willow-springpaw592]

My thoughts on the newest main story quests, some positive and some...slightly on the fence:

First of all, I like that Linda is shown to actually have a backbone and will snap back at people if they insult her. Maybe I'm remembering wrong, but for a while it seemed like she was just the token intelligent one of the group who never got into conflicts. So I really liked seeing her stand up for herself this time against the dark riders!

I like how the druids can send messages via runestones to each other in times of crisis. It's something I never would've thought of, and although the way the runestones just grow out of the ground could seem silly and nonsensical in a way for some, I personally really like it!

Also, the magnetising void! It was so cool! I wonder what past Soul Rider performed it with Concorde? I would say Elizabeth, but that just seems too obvious. I love that we got to see a more dangerous side to the magic of the Sun Circle, and I really hope that this is something they will continue with for the rest of the Circles. Maybe for the Moon Circle, Linda could be able to cast dangerous illusions to confuse the dark riders? Or send visions that can drive people mad? It's probably too 'evil' for the Soul Rider circles, but I think it would be cool to see the dark side of the Keepers' magical abilities.

Now, onto the bombing of Dark Core Headquarters. I find it really difficult to believe that DC was never actually drilling any oil. They couldn't have partnered with GED forever, could they've? How could they have made money otherwise? At some point in history they must have drilled for oil, and then stopped for some reason. Maybe to put all their money into the equipment to build the Hadal gate (which btw confirms that Garnoks prison is indeed super deep under the sea, and not in some untouched corner of Pandoria) Anyways, I really hope this is not SSEs attempt at portraying DC as somewhat redeemable with 'oh no they actually weren't polluting the island at all, they were doing nothing wrong!', nevermind the fact that they are working towards releasing Garnok, who has made it very clear by now in regards to his plans for the island.

Well whatever, moving on from that, Erissa! Finally! I was hoping she'd have some lines of dialogue, but I did love her cartwheel/flip coming out of the portal. It's nice to see that Mr Sands is back in action again after not being present in the story for damn, what 5, 6 years now?! I though he and the Dark Riders would've been a bit more annoyed about the oil rig's destruction, so I guess the Soul Riders have got their war crime charges dropped for now at least.

Now for the obligatory Darko mention. With every new release of the main story, I get increasingly more worried about what SSE is planning on doing with him now. He should've been in the ending of this quest, yet he wasn't, and there's been absolutely zero mentions of him ever since the saving Anne quests from other characters, even though he was probably a massive source of trauma for Anne if he was the one who guarded her prison cell, and she seemed to have a very deep hatred of him going off of her mentions of him at past seasonal events. I can't find my screenshot of her one at Midsummer but she said something along the lines of, "What do you think happened to Darko? He had better still be alive. I won't let him take away my chance for revenge." Yes I know, I remembered one line of dialogue at an event years ago, can you tell I'm obsessed yet? I want to say that they're planning something big with him and the Nightmare Institute, but I've got this horrible feeling that they'll either reveal he's dead( even though the soul riding missions are proof that he isn't) or they'll just totally write him out of the story from now on because they've got the new Dark Rider models now, so they can do more with them. I know most people hate him, but I think he has the potential to be a really interesting irredeemable mad scientist type character, so I really hope they haven't given up on him yet. I'm probably being really over dramatic right now XD, but he's been my no.1 character hyperfixation since 2018 so that's my excuse lol.

I really didn't think this would be so long but to summarise: Anne and Linda are badass, I want Avalon to deck someone across the face, and I want Darko to make his dramatic appearance again someday :''(

Well, goodnight! Please share your own opinions with me if you'd like, I'd love to know everyone else's thoughts!

[fisheadz]

Just some thoughts I’ve had about SWTC, specifically about the Shape. Spoilers for the games, and for the fic I made for this AU that you should TOTALLY GO READ IF YOU LIKE ZOMBIES AND CANON-TYPICAL VIOLENCE AND GORE AND THAT STUFF—

The Shape/Cordyceps infection started on an oil rig, ofc! Not OUR oil rig, but an unnamed rig out in the North Sea. It went how you’d expect, with the rig destroyed completely by the Shape. Only they didn’t have a Caz among their crew, so it wasn’t killed. Thus, it made it to the mainland.

There, it found a fungus. Since it likes to take over living things, and plant life and fungi are alive, it bonds with some shrooms. THE shrooms. The cordyceps shrooms. It has less success with regular plants and such, but honestly could you imagine the Shape taking over all of earths plant life? That would suck ass.

Now, this bond between this seemingly eldritch entity and this silly lil ant killer fungus changes the way it works a bit. Instead of being able to infect someone by simply touching their sleeve or something, spreading to their skin by tendrils and stuff, it’s spread is limited to open wounds and such, and if someone gets VERY VERY VERY lucky, they can only get a teeny tiny bit of Shape in their bloodstream and their body’s natural defenses takes care of it before they can get turned. VEEERRRYYY lucky.

But it does turn (most) of the infected into more human sized monsters, meaning they can hide away in buildings instead of being stuck to the outside, meaning it’s harder to simply shelter in place and hope for the best. They’re less inhibited by their size and woobly flesh and more by the tough growths that sprout everywhere, serving as armor.

To get out of the way, they aren’t only able to be killed by head injuries. If you damage their bodies enough to truly do damage despite the hardened skin and flesh, then you CAN kill them. This only goes for, like, half of the infected tho. The Shape changes everyone differently and depending on how someone is turned, they might not have the right bones or organs to target. The brain is usually the best bet to aim for.

Take four legs in my fic, for example: Caz fucked up its spine in a bad spot but that didn’t do much, plus it took forever to kill it with blunt force head trauma. Meanwhile no eyes over with Roy only took a few jabs to the brain to take down, even though its brain was hard to hit with how the growths on its face served as protection. Some are just easier to kill than others, because the Shape can just take away everything that makes a silly little human easy to kill, or just guard it completely with itself. It actively shifts around, not to the extent of the game Shape, but as it does in the fic, it can move to wrap around harming objects like, say, a knife lodged in its ribcage? To stop it from moving around and causing more damage to its horribly malformed host.

It’s hard to describe how the Shape really acts, here. Its main goal is to assimilate and feed, but while it IS a somewhat intelligent being, its connection with the Cordyceps changed that, making it less strategic in its spreading methods. Like we see with Caz in the aforementioned fic, he hears voices in his head when he’s near the mass, but they’re faint and wispy, hard to make out the words or tone or who’s talking. We can deduce just WHO he’s hearing, but HE can’t. He just has a gut feeling on who the Shapes using to infect him.

And everyone has different reactions to it: Caz basically goes through what we see in SWTD, with the funky vision and screwy hearing and headaches. Roy gets extreme vertigo and starts shaking really badly. Suze starts to have really bad muscle spasms and nosebleeds. And Billy is mostly just unaffected, aside from hearing the voices. That’s the one constant, the voices.

It also works like a limited hivemind, like it does in TLOU. More or less the same way it does there.

I can’t think of anything else rn, so I might expand a bit more with all of this some other time.

And, now that all of that is out of the way… there would absolutely be a point where Billy has to guide a blinded Caz through some thick Shape infection. Tightly holding his hand and pressing him against his side and everything. Billy’s silly little down bad ass would be internally screaming so loud.. Caz would just want to get out of the area, and would get mad at himself and Billy over the tummy flutters later.