#floating frame fossil

[uk-fossils]

Genuine Cut & Polished Ammonite Fossil - 3D Floating Display Frame - Cretaceous Madagascar - COA

Add a unique and authentic piece of prehistoric beauty to your collection with this genuine Cut & Polished Ammonite Fossil, elegantly presented in a 3D floating display frame. This specimen originates from the Cretaceous period, approximately 100 million years ago, and was sourced from the fossil-rich deposits of Madagascar.

Ammonites are an extinct group of marine mollusks, closely related to modern-day squids and octopuses. These spiral-shelled creatures thrived in ancient oceans and are renowned for their stunning natural geometry and symmetry. When cut and polished, the internal chambered structure of the ammonite is revealed—showcasing beautiful mineralisation and intricate patterns that make each specimen truly one-of-a-kind.

This fossil comes housed in a transparent 3D floating frame, perfect for display on a desk, shelf, or in a collection cabinet. The photo provided shows an example of the actual specimen you will receive. Each fossil is unique in shape, pattern, and colour, adding to its authenticity and charm. Please refer to the included photo with a 1cm scale cube for accurate sizing.

All of our fossils are 100% Genuine Specimens and come with a Certificate of Authenticity, making this a perfect gift for collectors, educators, and natural history enthusiasts.

Highlights:

Genuine cut and polished ammonite fossil

Displayed in a 3D floating presentation frame

Sourced from Cretaceous deposits in Madagascar

Estimated age: ~100 million years old

Includes Certificate of Authenticity (COA)

Photo shows example specimen; scale cube = 1cm. See images for full sizing

Bring natural history to life with this timeless ammonite fossil—an eye-catching piece for any collector or display!

[ren-cerati]

Hell yeah I wrote this in like 2 days (brushed it up at school)

Also I've noticed tumblr keeps stealing my italics (which are important in my writing ) So I will probably either A. Make a document copy and put it in my pinned post or B. Cross-Post on Ao3 (It's annoying to add them each time :()

@astro-nomaly @highbookwormofthecentury @mother-spore-missa @flirty-anon @shadow-dwelling-anon

7. Rock Bottom

Elliott

I must have died again.

Huh.

It’s warm.

Bordering on scalding, actually.

Heat radiates through my bones, winding around my very core. I sink into it, and it embraces me, holds me close.

It’s comfortable. I’d never wish to leave.

At least that's what I thought until something went for my toes. Something sharp.

I’m not dead.

I shriek at a higher pitch than I’d like to admit, and shake my foot violently. My eyes fly open, and I see my toe grabbing assailant. A bit of pain laces my body, but I grit my teeth.

A tiny blue-green crab with four buggy little eyes. It snaps algae coated pincers at me, then starts towards my foot once more with renewed determination. I scramble back.

“Do not touch me, you-”

I fumble for something behind me, and find a rock. I toss it at the thing.

It misses so horribly I cringe at myself. Even the crab looks disappointed.

“My bad.” I say honestly. The crab doesn’t respond, and just scuttles off, as though disappointed.

Why the hell did I expect it to respond??

Actually, I’m justified. That crab had four eyes.

No, I’m awful. What even was that? I just stare at the ground for a while. My feet are bare- My shoes must have been torn from my feet when I fell into the sea. The stone under my feet is smooth, worn from an unfathomable amount of time.

I look around. I don’t see Mors Atra anywhere, thankfully. I’m not his biggest fan, since he tried to skewer me earlier.

The place I’m in is stranger than strange- the ground underneath is rocky, and there are small mounds scattered about, made of pure white seashells. There is a pillar of stone bricks in the middle, inlaid with gems and gold. I look up, and it eventually fades to plain stone. I can ever so faintly see the sky so, so far above. The stars twinkle in the night sky, speckled in patterns. I can hardly see them, but they are there.

I search for certain constellations out of an odd habit, but nothing is to be yielded.

Hunger pangs through my stomach, but I push it from my mind. I assumed Rie and Akasora were still above on the ship. Hopefully they’re alright.

My bones still ache, but I manage to pull myself up.

For a while, I just wander about. There are fossilized bones, vibrant corals, and faded murals with flaking colors. It feels like sacred ground, and I can feel something pulsing around me.

“That’s odd.” I say intelligently.

What I assume to be south of the gigantic stone pillar-spire, there are crumbling walls, white stone and red clay molded together in elaborate patterns, with shining rocks and tempered metal holding it together. It forms a little path, heading to where the sea abruptly just stops, floating around the cylinder stone about fifty yards out. I decide to walk through it. I can’t make out the paintings, etched and woven and breaking down with age; but they make the hairs on the back of my neck rise nonetheless.

Eventually, I came to a stretch of fine, dusty black sand. The tiny pieces are hot, like little coals. I hiss when I tentatively run my ankle through them. But they don’t scald my skin, so I am at least grateful for that.

The path of sand leads to a small beach-like area, enclosed in boulders and rocks. I stare around, and with a sinking feeling in my chest realize this is the place where I stepped into the sea, where I saw the glowing oil-water eyes. But it’s different- instead of the black sea, a wall of water meets me, a stone gate framing some sort of metal stand with a panel on top.

I step closer. The panel looks almost like some sort of altar- writing etched almost violently into the shining iron. A red cloth is laid over it, somehow entirely pristine, as though paused in time. It makes me pause. Something old and ancient here, and I best leave it alone. I don’t know where I am, what to do, and if I’m going to die down here or not.

But something pulls me to the altar. There’s a groove in the metal, encased in gold. A place where a palm would rest in the gilded handprint.

I run my fingers over it absently, before without really thinking at all (I should likely do that more) I slot my hand into the indent.

Almost immediately the black tattoo on my hand flares, blooms, and goes from that subtle darkness to glowing red-pink so brightly I wince. There are littles flashes of light, flickering like flame. I hear stone creak, and my hand only gets hotter. I hiss, panic chilling my spine. I jerk back, but my hand feels stuck in place.

Suddenly there's complete giveaway, and with a shout I jerk myself back, falling on my tailbone as I go. It hurts, but I’m just glad my hand isn’t burning anymore.

The sound of water rushes in my ears and when I look up, the sea itself is parting. The water past the gate rushes away, revealing the bare sea floor. There’s an abrupt drop off about twenty feet away.

Now, I’d like to think I’m at least somewhat smart. I honestly considered just going back and letting starvation or the crabs take me.

But starvation is boring, would probably be annoying, and I don’t like the crabs one bit.

So I start through the churning tunnel of water.

I don’t notice the abundance of sea creatures until I’m halfway through. Colorful fish swim in shoals, fins just short of breaking the water surface. Some of them seem to glow, the bioluminescent scales fading in and out.

A giant whale-like creature with a long tail and multiple sets of flippers cruises by, and my breath hitches in amazement.

The seafloor is still black sand, but more things are starting to emerge- my foot rolls over a string of green beads, a shimmering gemstone, and a golden goblet.

It’s all very shiny, but I hardly think of it. I’m more focused on what lies at the end.

The water has congealed into a sort of whirlpool, in a deep golden basin at the end of the tunnel.

I just look into it for a while. I can so faintly see something at the bottom. Light, and something that looks like it expands into a larger space; which doesn’t make sense. But I can’t comment on that, because nothing makes sense here.

I’ll come back later to investigate. I’m hungry, so maybe I can look for the crustaceans and hopefully get better aim with the rocks.

The moment I turn around though, The waves start crashing down and roaring towards me. Above my head, it starts dripping until bucket-sized drops are falling down.

I’m too far to try and swim back to the middle area. The sea above is entirely out of question.

What have I got myself into? I should have just sat there and starved. This is decidedly not…Fun.

I jump into the whirlpool before I can debate it. I decide that whatever made me curious may as well be my undoing, and that I saw light below anyway.

This time, I try my darndest to hold my breath.

It’s quicker than I thought it would be- I’m sucked down so fast I lose all my orientation immediately. Am I going up? Down? Am I upside down?

My feet brush clinking metal, and I desperately claw at the water, kicking off the floor. My head breaks the surface, and gasping, I manage to grab onto the side of something and pull myself up.

The whirlpool spilled into a giant cavern, moss and vines weaving about. The murals here look untouched- the colors making my head spin. The black sand is down here as well, but it’s cool under my feet.

I shake my head, water splattering on the rocks. I’m tired, and my feet hurt, and I am also hungry, but I want to look around before taking a nap.

This plan is null and void when the ground starts shaking. Rising.

“What the fuck-”

Ah. What is this? I cannot catch a break.

Everything rumbles for a while, and I cling to a rock like a scared cat.

Soon, it stops. I tentatively detach myself, and start to walk. My breath is shaky, my hands clenched into fists to stem their trembling.

The ground rises again.

After a couple moments of panic, I realize the cave isn’t going to fall in on me.

Theres something breathing underneath.

I could have chalked it up to oddly synchronized tremors. I could have thought it was anything else.

But somehow, I just know. Theres something alive and giant underneath the stone.

Something that wants out.

There’s only one tunnel out of the cavern. I’m hesitant to go into it, because the last thing I should be doing is searching for whatever is breathing.

I think of the the eyes.

The god.

Maybe I’m supposed to do this.

It’s like a maze, smaller tunnels branching into large ones. The walls and floor are slick, almost slimy, and it gets colder the further I go in. That’s what scares me the most- it was sweltering above. Now its nearly freezing and I’m really wishing I had my shoes. Those beat up red converse had served me well for the little time I had them.

I don’t know where I’m going. It only occurs to me once I’m lost that I could get lost.

What a drag. Somewhat upsetting.

Anxiety tightens my chest, but I keep walking forwards. Despite most definitely doing so, I don’t feel like I’m just wandering aimlessly.

More tunnels.

A staircase that leads to more tunnels.

Something wholly unexpected- more tunnels.

A corridor.

A hall.

I don’t think that I mentioned I was walking through the tunnels.

And that there were tunnels.

I turn a corner and run into metal.

My head spins, and I simply stand unsteadily for a couple moments.

After regaining my bearings, I study my stationary assailant.

A gigantic golden gate with elaborate carvings. It hurts just to look at them.

There’s another hand imprint. No- there are two. I’d have to use both hands.

Well, opening the last one went very well.

Nothing else to do, is there?

I slot my hands halfway into it. This one feels far more ancient, and colder. A thick layer of dust coats it, and I shudder before fully putting it into the opening device.

A harsh and dissonating clang resonates through the cavern, and I flinch back. But my hand is locked in place again.

This time it’s different.

It’s almost like my palm is melting into the metal- or being sucked in. The markings glowed violently.

My fingertips started to lose feeling.

That didn’t happen last time.

It’s like I plunged my hands into wildfire- it crackles and burns. The flames lick at my hands.

I can’t move back. It just pulls my hands further and further in, until it’s up to my wrists.

“Fuck, shit, what the hell-” All those swears and more escape my mouth. My hands are entirely numb.

I keep on pulling back, even planting my feet on the door. I think back to whatever the heck I did in the alley and try doing that, but nothing happens.

Both my forearms are nearly gone into the door when I remember something so stupid.

Maybe its a push door. Some doors are hinged to only open if you push them, and likewise.

Even thought my every instinct screams against it (After all, why would you plunge your hands in further if you can feel them disintegrating?) I lunge forward and plunge my arms all the way in.

The gate gives was with frightening ease. As it creaks open, I’m slowly able to pull out my arms.

I’m breathing heavily, panic trickling down my spine and slowly fading.

“Well that was great.” I manage after a moment, looking at the gate.

I can’t see where it leads. Whats even down here?

“Find me.”

The voice.

The god.

Kyūseishū.

The pulsing I felt aboveground suddenly becomes a hundred times worse. It collapses in on me, so overpowering and loud, its so damn loud-

“Come now. You’re close, Parva Bellator.”

I can hear it more clearly now. It’s the same one from my dream, but it sounds a hundreds of thousands times more powerful.

I am afraid.

A wind rushes from inside the gate. My vision grows blurry.

“Parva Bellator, Mors Alba, Soén…A lot of names for a small thing. Where do you hail?”

Something thick builds in my throat. It’s like my very cells are evaporating.

“My Pheos? I do hope you’re from Pheos. I loved Pheos. It was mine, mine, mine…”

Something trickles out my ears and nose.

Blood.

I am afraid.

“Yes, you’ll help me get out of here. I will use you to destroy THEM.”

I can’t even think. Something compels me to struggle to my feet, and walk into the gate. My steps feel slow, and I so faintly feel something dripping down my face.

Tears, or blood?

“I have not had a general in so long. You won’t disappoint.”

I fall forwards.

Down.

Down.

Down.

My vision blacks out. All I can hear is the voice.

“I wouldn’t mind you being from Tsukarc. Or Alekxira? I do like Alekxira. As long as you aren’t from-”

Silence. In the darkness, it makes me want to sob.

“No.”

Something hooks under my shirt. I hang limp in the air.

“There is…A thing which is wrong with you. You aren’t from the five continents. You aren’t from any of the lost ones, either.”

I can’t even hear my own breathing, but my throat is raw. Like I’ve been screaming.

Could I be screaming? I can’t hear anything but the god’s voice.

“It’s like you were stitched in here. Taken from somewhere else and sewn into the fabric of this world.”

I’m raised up with staggering speed.

“Yes. What are you doing here, Elliott?”

I force open my eyes with a gasp.

For a moment, I don’t even know what I’m looking at. A mass of white that seems to glow, stars, wings, flesh and bone and fire and wrath, all in front of me at once.

When I look ahead, I see the oil-water eyes.

Giant. Wide. Gentle and furious and soft and wild all at once.

I’m hardly bigger than the sharp ripped-star pupils.

It’s like drowning.

I’m starting to black out again when I hear a startled trill, almost like a bird. It echoes through the space.

“I must have forgotten-”

And then my consciousness disappears, and I’m out like a light.

I am still afraid.

[sugarand-everythingnice]

The Beast Comes Out ___

Had to hand it to the guy- Shockwave never did things by halves.

Call it logic, call it scientific process, call it torture- Whatever the mad mech put his mind to, he calculated every plausible action and reaction and was quick to recalculate when results suffered from the hypothesis. Honestly, it was kind of impressive. Y'know, if that industrious mind hadn't churned out some of the most horrific weapons of the war.

And wasn't focused entirely on making his existence a living hell.

Wheeljack resisted the urge to squirm, fighting to slow the panting rhythm of his vents trying to cool his bound and battered frame. If it was just pain, he wouldn't be having so much trouble with it, but Shockwave had long since moved past pain in regards to the subject of his latest experiments. Pain was normal, pain was expected.

Shockwave was not looking for normal.

It had taken a couple sessions for the Wrecker to catch on, largely due to the fact the scientist had sedated him pretty heavily the first few goes. The early interactions were a mostly incoherent blur of strange bubbling tubes and tapping keys and a pervasive numbness, but either the sedative had atarted to not work so well or Shockwave had lowered the dosage, because he was a great deal more aware these days. Aware and able to listen, as the massive purple mech spoke quietly to himself as he meticulously reviewed the results of his efforts.

There were fossils floating suspended in tubes, literal fossils of beings that had dominated Cybtertron's distant past and Shockwave had figured out how to extract something from those fossils. Which he had decided to test it on the singular captured stray Autobot, just to see what might happen.

Well, the mech probably had some kind of logical reasoning or hypothesis or whatever, but from Wheeljack's point of view, it was nothing more than basic curiosity turned up to 100. Because as far as he could tell, there was no Primus damned reason why some injections of fossil stuff should be making his self-repair go absolutely nuts. Look, he was an engineer before the war, then a demolitions specialist, cyber-biology was very much NOT his forte. And it didn't help that he was only getting bits and pieces of things, whenever Shockwave started to ramble to himself or moved the slab around and he got a look at one of the various screens full of code and notes and terminology that made no fragging sense to someone without the correct background of study.

Still, he did his best with what he had, stored internal screenshots and took notes in the hope that when he finally made it out of this hellhole, he'd be able to send the packet off to Ratchet and at least get some help figuring out what in the frag had been done to him.

As far as he knew, according to his own internal diagnostics, his self-repair was reading something wrong with him and was currently going bonkers trying to fix that perceived wrong, which had all his systems going on overdrive, sucking down his fuel and depleting his material stores and making everything too warm and Primus damnit did his protoform itch. He hadn't felt so completely at odds with his own body since his first instar, growing in the initial armor that would develop with him to maturity. At least during that mess, he'd had family and friends to help ease the stress of it all and hadn't been trapped at the mercy of a mech that had literally had his emotional cortex lobotomized.

Pretty much the only upside was that Shockwave had caught on to the rapid depletion relatively early on, and had decided that reducing his test subject to a starved Empty was not the goal of his experiment, so there were three or four lines tapped into his frame feeding in supplements and energon. Not enough to stop his tanks from clenching with hunger, but it kept his self-repair from cannibalizing things. As though roused by his wandering thoughts, Wheeljack felt his fuel tanks twist and clench, his insides seizing up, and he grit his dentae against the intense discomfort, swallowing hard to keep thickened oral lubricant from seeping free. His intake felt sticky and gross from the lack of refreshed fluids, an unfortunately common sensation after the millennia of war basically tanked all their resources, but it never got any easier to bear. Especially when there wasn't a mission to focus on, something to keep his mind off how much his body ached and his mouth tasted like old batteries.

He realized too late that he'd unconsciously shuttered his optics when he heard a low creak from way too close for comfort, and he snapped his optics open in time to see Shockwave had apparently finished with whatever note taking he'd been doing and was currently looming over his test subject. That single expressionless orb of an optic peered down at him with all the interest and focus of an oddly shaped desk lamp, but he knew better than to take the huge mech's blankness at face value. Ha. Face value.

"Hngh. S-See somethin' ya like, big guy?"

Audial antennae flicked, that big red optic brightening briefly.

"Subject maintains original personality and mental faculties. Cognitive testing may be required for later stages."

A chill ran down the Wrecker's spinal strut, and he just kept himself from grimacing.

"Scuse you, if anybody needs their head checked, it's tall, dark an' high on god blood."

Shockwave just stared down at him, and Wheeljack resisted the urge to squirm. The huge purple mech flicked his antennae again, then straightened, stepping away towards a side table Wheeljack had come to recognize as the main work bench for his particular torture.

"Cognitive testing for Lord Megatron a logical conclusion according to recent behavioral changes. Consult with medical team."

It took far too much effort to keep back the bark of laughter that wanted to escape, and though he managed, Wheeljack still had to bite down on his lower lip to hold it in. The soft metal pinched, but he ignored the small pain to focus his efforts on not bursting into hysterical giggles. His humor died as Shockwave returned, a syringe of green-gold substance held carefully in the long delicate digits of his only hand.

"Data log, 0323_2420, Project: CNA Assimilation. Current readings report heightened immune response, stronger than originally calculated but well within range estimates. Injections of extracted Predacon nuclei yet to induce adaptation response, threshold may be unique to each individual subject. Will require a wider test group to confirm. Injection 013, commencing."

Wheeljack let himself squirm this time, fighting to get as much of his frame away from the approaching needle as he could. It was ultimately a useless endeavor, seeing as the slab was magnetized every time the jerk decided to do this part of things, but he still tried, leaning his full weight into the neck and limb restraints in pure stubborn defiance. He snarled his engine as the needle slid smoothly under his armor, piercing through muscle cabling directly into his base protoform just like every other injection before.

Primus, he hated how easily Shockwave got away with scrap. All planned ahead and calculated and working around the fact he'd modified one of his arms into a giant kriff-off cannon larger than most mechs were tall-!

Rage simmered, familiar and hot, just under his spark as the eerie green-gold fluid was forced into his body, his hyperactive systems catching on to the new input and sending a cascade of notifications and scrambled data across his internal HUD. Something beeped elsewhere in the room, and Wheeljack was vaguely aware of Shockwave stepping away, but his mind was occupied by the burning ache that spread under his armor, pulsing in time with his sparkbeat. It felt like something was crawling around inside of him, following the path of dispersion from the injection site, and it made his tanks churn with nausea.

Armor flared against his will, his fans whirling up to their highest setting as his systems revved into overdrive, heat building so quickly and intensely he ended up with his head lolled back, intake gaping in a desperate effort to get more air circulating through his frame. Red and gold and green flickered and flashed across his internal HUD, his vision swimming as his optics tried and failed to focus on something, anything around him. His winglets, a little smushed but otherwise just mildly numb, suddenly flexed harshly underneath him, and he found himself bowing up from the slab to try and give them space as that burning sensation burst into a piercing kind of pain pulsing through the little offshoots. Vaguely, a part of him wondered why. Winglets like his weren't anything special, just some evolutionary remnant from when Cybertronians began to transition from mechanimal alts to vehicles, an in-between state that was either completely lost or developed into expressive doorwings. He'd modded his a long time ago, kitted them out with extra sensors and things to make them useful, but they were still mostly just cosmetic little things. Not important, not useful.

But now they were burning and there was something wrong with the way they were pressing against the slab underneath him.

Faintly, he could hear someone screaming, their vox crackling and skipping with strain, but he couldn't pinpoint it, his processor muzzy and fogged with heat and growing pain. It wasn't until he felt something crack, and the screaming pitched up into an agonized screech, that he realized that it was his vox making all that noise.

Several pops and cracks happened in quick succession, following the burning down his spinal strut and deep into his frame. Monitoring machines were beeping and shrieking around him, and he could faintly make out Shockwave's voice, an edge of satisfaction to that hated vox that made his tanks churn. And then they were churning for another reason entirely, clenching and twisting inside of him as he gagged and coughed on his own oral lubricant, feeling like he desperately needed to purge something foul from his systems but there was nothing there to be rid of. His dentae ached and pulsed, his digits feeling as thought they were being pulled from their housings, everything was hurting and he could do nothing to stop it. Just endure. Just hold on. Endure. Hold on. Endure. Hold. ON.

Heat and pain. He was nothing but heat and pain. And rage. So. Much. RAGE.

A dull creaking, followed by a sharp ping, and he felt his arm was free. Movement became an absolute necessity, overtaking his mind with the desperate need to flee. He could hear something roaring, angry and hateful, and he didn't care, heaving on the restraints holding him against his will. Something tried to stop him, reaching for him, and snapped at it, dentae only just missing slim purple talons as the binding around his neck tore free. He set his dentae to the task of freeing his other arm, ripping into the metal restraining him like it was nothing but tinfoil, then he was up, thrashing under the influence of a fresh pulse of pain before he managed to get a grip on the bonds around his legs. They crumpled under his hold, and he ripped them entirely loose from the slab.

Something whined, power cycling into something dangerous, and he dropped to the floor just in time to avoid the cannon shot.

He saw a huge purple blur, a splot of red somewhere towards the top, an angular shape pointed towards him growing in brightness, and he scrambled into motion. That was danger, that was a threat. That needed to be dead.

Coming up from under the damaged slab, he full body tackled the purple thing, engine snarling as he bared his dentae, winglets flaring high and wide, wider than they had before but he couldn't focus on that he had to destroy this threat, this danger. Sharp claws dug into thick armor, providing ideal purchase for the hooked barbs jutting from his forearms to tear into, while he slammed his knee spikes whatever soft bits he could.

Fresh spilled energon filled the air with its sharp tang, and his snarl took a hungry edge, his tanks twisting empty. A part of him rebelled harshly against the thought that rose up in his mind, and he had to concede- Hungry or not, this was not a place to feed. Dark and dank and rife with dangers he could sense like optics on his back, the downed threat sprawled out on the floor before him was too big to drag with him. He would have to find food elsewhere, once it was safer.

Finding a way out was refreshingly simple. Tearing out the bleeping noise next to an archway caused the archway to open into a passage, and he took off as quick as he could, clawing his way up into the most shadowed parts of the ceiling to get himself out of sight and out of mind. He tracked the small silver and purple things towards an exit, and crouched up high until a lone one approached. It was simple to tear the thing's head off, and he only hesitated a moment over the idea of taking it with him for the life fluid he could smell spilling out of it, but it was too ungainly to bother with when he didn't have a safe place to carry it off to. Another time.

The openness around him sang of freedom, opportunity, and he took it in both servos, changing his shape to find speed and bolting off across the desert. Freedom was his, and nothing was ever going to take it from him, ever again.

___

ENJOY! :D

WOAH THIS IS SO GOOD!!

Oh my god I love how well you know all their biological anatomy and such 😭

But yes! This is the stuff I want to veer towards! You have given me so many ideas ♡♡♡♡

[infectiouspiss]

Sorry to say but f***** is a TERF dogwhistle

what word? sorry what word is that ?? you've censored it too much what is it?? how am i meant to understand this?

is it faggot? or is it one of these?

family, future, Friday, Father, forest, Friend, famous, flower, finger, fiesta, faking, flying, figure, fourth, fringe, flange, frozen, forget, Fabian, filter, France, flight, fallen, famine, female, fiscal, fierce, French, feline, fridge, fiance, fetish, finish, Foster, factor, fluffy, fiddle, fusion, follow, farmer, flirty, feeder, facade, felony, fuller, fisher, fright, failed, flavor, falter, finale, fabric, falcon, fedora, fungus, frosty, fumble, feeble, forces, fester, floral, fondle, filthy, fellow, feisty, fetter, floppy, freeze, finder, frying, facing, Fatima, frenzy, finest, finals, fondue, fuming, fibula, fuhrer, frizzy, fruits, fossil, faucet, faster, floozy, folded, fodder, fabled, flossy, footer, fandom, fiasco, furrow, formed, fading, flagon, flurry, firing, frayed, frigga, foible, frappe, frugal, fruity, foodie, frilly, filmed, futile, funnel, frolic, formal, fueler, filled, fluent, Fresno, fibber, feared, fillet, fueled, fickle, Franco, fixing, fascia, fouled, fuzzed, format, fuddle, freely, filing, fraise, facial, fenian, flimsy, fecund, faller, Fijian, folate, ferret, fleece, feeler, foment, fledge, fasten, fennel, fabler, freaky, favism, funded, floats, footed, forced, favour, Fulton, folder, Faisal, frisky, flakey, faille, flawed, flabby, Frisch, froggy, frigid, flitch, farrow, feller, feuder, Fungia, fathom, Freyja, fizzle, frater, foetus, farina, flatus, fatten, flared, facies, fomite, Fields, flaunt, faulty, foully, famish, fipple, feudal, fibrin, forage, fences, filler, fowler, frowzy, fender, fracas, facile, fresco, fixate, folium, friary, fanion, faired, flyers, fidget, Fulica, frowsy, frothy, flinch, fusser, forego, furled, fakery, falsie, fugler, flocks, Fornax, flukey, fitful, fervor, foaled, forint, fusing, fillip, fasces, Frazer, fellah, forged, flinty, Fukien, frieze, fallow, footle, forbid, flacon, fluted, funder, flavin, felled, funest, fungal, fervid, florid, formic, forger, flanch, ferlie, former, filial, flicky, Fatiha, flyboy, Fenrir, fugato, fulfil, Fulani, finely, fatism, fantan, framed, finery, finnan, fornix, fondly, facula, fescue, fanned, foison, firmly, fetich, fulmar, faisan, flatly, Fawkes, funker, faucal, flashy, Fortaz, flyway, Faunus, fealty, frivol, Florio, facund, feebly, frijol, ferine, faerie, fairly, fardel, furred, foeman, foetal, firkin, flexor, firsts, Friuli, formol, fecula, flicks, foetor, fooler, fucoid, faeces, Frisia, fleshy, fundus, foiled, frumpy, festal, furcal, featly, furane, flamen, frumps, framer, Fugard, ferial, floret, Fallot, fusain, fussed, filago, fanged, floury, farcer, Fennic, floaty, furore, frazil, folksy, Ferber, forked, ferule, frills, forrad, finial, felloe, fulgid, flaxen, foozle, Frunze, fawner, ferned, fencer, fettle, feijoa, ferric, faecal, fauces, Flagyl, Faroes, fakeer, fleecy, fibril, filmic, foxily, fogged, funrun, furfur, FinCEN, friesz, flunky, fatwah, fallal, Fermat, fenced, fulgor, forcer, Fergon, Feifer, Finnic, Fenusa, felted, Florey, feodal, feodum, flexed, frypan, Feosol, Franck, fringy, foetid, fugain, fusers, Fafnir, fulham, fylfot, funada, faquir, futons, fumier, fedish, fuerte, fowled, fizgig, fuling, or furors?

[rainyducktiger]

FSRU (Floating Storage and Regasification Unit) Market Supply Chain Challenges and Future Strategies to 2033

Introduction

The global energy landscape is undergoing significant transformation due to the increasing demand for cleaner and more sustainable energy sources. Among these, liquefied natural gas (LNG) has emerged as a vital component of the global energy mix, owing to its lower carbon footprint compared to traditional fossil fuels. Floating Storage and Regasification Units (FSRUs) have become a critical infrastructure component in the LNG value chain, offering cost-effective and flexible solutions for gas importation. This article delves into the trends shaping the FSRU market, key drivers, challenges, and forecasts up to 2032.

Market Overview

The FSRU market has witnessed remarkable growth in recent years, driven by the rising demand for natural gas, the increasing focus on energy security, and the flexibility offered by FSRUs compared to onshore regasification terminals. FSRUs enable rapid deployment of LNG infrastructure with lower capital expenditures, making them an attractive option for emerging markets and countries with limited access to natural gas pipelines.

Download a Free Sample Report:-https://tinyurl.com/2tza4j9t

Key Market Drivers

1. Rising Global Demand for LNG

The shift towards cleaner energy sources has led to an increase in LNG consumption. Countries are increasingly opting for LNG to reduce dependence on coal and oil, and FSRUs provide a viable solution for quick and cost-effective regasification.

2. Cost Efficiency and Flexibility

FSRUs offer a more economical alternative to traditional onshore regasification terminals. They require significantly lower capital investment and can be deployed within a shorter time frame. Additionally, they offer the flexibility of being relocated based on changing market demands.

3. Energy Security and Supply Diversification

FSRUs allow countries to diversify their energy sources without long-term commitments to fixed infrastructure. This flexibility is crucial for nations looking to enhance their energy security and mitigate supply risks.

4. Growing Investment in LNG Infrastructure

Governments and private entities are investing heavily in LNG infrastructure, including FSRUs, to meet the growing energy demands. Several projects across Asia, Europe, and Africa are in the pipeline, contributing to market expansion.

Market Challenges

1. High Operational and Maintenance Costs

Although FSRUs offer cost savings in terms of infrastructure, their operational and maintenance expenses can be high. Regular maintenance, crew costs, and technical complexities can impact profitability.

2. Regulatory and Environmental Challenges

FSRU projects must comply with stringent regulatory frameworks and environmental regulations. Permitting processes, safety concerns, and environmental impact assessments can delay project approvals.

3. Supply Chain Disruptions

The global LNG supply chain is vulnerable to geopolitical tensions, trade restrictions, and logistical disruptions. Any significant disruptions in LNG production or transportation can impact FSRU operations.

Regional Market Analysis

1. Asia-Pacific

The Asia-Pacific region dominates the FSRU market due to increasing LNG demand from countries like China, India, Japan, and South Korea. Several nations in Southeast Asia are adopting FSRUs to meet their growing energy needs without developing expensive onshore infrastructure.

2. Europe

Europe has seen a rise in FSRU deployments as part of its strategy to reduce dependence on Russian gas supplies. Countries such as Germany, Italy, and the UK are actively investing in FSRUs to enhance energy security.

3. Middle East and Africa

The Middle East and Africa are emerging as key markets for FSRUs, with countries like Egypt and South Africa investing in LNG import facilities. These nations are looking to leverage FSRUs to support industrial growth and energy diversification.

4. North America

North America, primarily the U.S. and Canada, plays a dual role in the FSRU market as both an exporter of LNG and a potential user of FSRU technology in certain regions. The U.S. continues to expand its LNG exports, which in turn drives the demand for FSRU infrastructure globally.

Market Forecast (2024-2032)

The FSRU market is expected to grow at a CAGR of 6-8% from 2024 to 2032. The key factors driving this growth include:

Increasing LNG demand globally.

More nations adopting FSRUs for energy security.

Technological advancements improving the efficiency of FSRUs.

Strategic partnerships between governments and private entities to expand LNG infrastructure.

Emerging Trends

Technological Innovations: Advancements in regasification technology, automation, and digital monitoring systems are enhancing FSRU efficiency and safety.

Floating LNG-to-Power Projects: Several countries are integrating FSRUs with floating power plants to provide reliable electricity in remote locations.

Increased Leasing and Chartering of FSRUs: Instead of building new FSRUs, many companies are opting for leasing models, which reduce capital expenditure and provide operational flexibility.

Conclusion

The FSRU market is poised for substantial growth in the coming years, driven by increasing LNG demand, cost-effective deployment, and energy security considerations. Despite challenges such as regulatory hurdles and operational costs, ongoing technological advancements and strategic investments will support the market’s expansion. As the world transitions toward cleaner energy sources, FSRUs will play a crucial role in ensuring a reliable and flexible supply of natural gas.

Governments, energy companies, and investors should closely monitor the evolving FSRU landscape to capitalize on emerging opportunities and navigate potential challenges. With continued innovation and investment, the FSRU market will remain a key enabler of global LNG trade and energy diversification through 2032 and beyond.

Read Full Report:-https://www.uniprismmarketresearch.com/verticals/energy-power/fsru-floating-storage-and-regasification-unit.html

[dragimalsdaydreams]

ok soooo... I’ve never played Pokemon or watched the show or anything, but my dear friend @cobwebbing got into SWSH a while back and infodumped a lot of interesting trivia onto me, including the thing about fossil combinations. we were both horrified by the implications, to the point that she wrote a fun fic exploring the concept (HIGHLY recommend it), and I got invested in speculating the ACTUAL original Pokemon (also, these designs are technically ‘canon’ to her fic)

I tried to mimic some of the official art in lining/shading, but I don’t think I stuck fully to the ‘cartoony’ vibe of Pokemon. ah well, good experience either way

for ease of reading, I’ll be slotting both the image descriptions AND the extra “Pokedex” info about these guys under the cut-- I thought a LOT about their behaviors lmao. for the image descriptions, please assume that the style of all pieces is a mix of ‘cartoony’ and realistic in form, with solid lines and base colors

+bonus! to see the belly <3

[IMAGE ID: text above the Pokemon reads “Zoomzolt” with a yellow button underneath reading “Electric”. the background is a dull yellow with some areas of shade.

this Pokemon is shaped like a prehistoric raptor, with a small/round horizontal torso, a thin neck curved upright, small arm-wings, lithe digitigrade hind legs, and a thin tail held stiffly out at an upward angle from the body. most of the body is bright yellow with small areas of purple, as will be described. the Pokemon is standing cheerily, facing to the left.

the head has a long snout with a prominent bump emphasizing the tip, where a small purple nostril sits on the visible side. the mouth is held open in a happy gape, showing a purple tongue. the front half of the upper and lower jaws have serrated edges resembling sharp teeth, which seem to interlock. the eyes are closed, the lines of the eyelashes turned up with the smile. a small doodle to the left of the head shows the head with jaw closed and eyes open, showing off glossy black-button eyes with tiny eyelashes, and sparkles floating around the eyes. the head is framed by a crown of large, decorative feathers, all of which are a lighter yellow than the body and sport a couple spots of purple. each cheek also has a single purple spot.

a pair of small arms are held loosely to the sides of the body, each with three bare-skin purple talons with long claws, peeking out from under the fluffy yellow feathers of the arm. each arm sports a set of primary feathers resembling a simple wing, ending at around the elbow. these primaries are a lighter yellow than the main body, with a couple spots of purple near the edges. the overall outline at the trailing edge of the primaries forms a lightning bolt shape. there’s a long decorative feather on each of the wings, close to the body, which extends out into a simple zig-zag, before ending in a rounded tip which resembles a peacock feather with a small wisp and a couple purple spots.

the bonus image removes the closest wing primaries, better showing the lighter-yellow underbelly, and the hind legs. the hind legs are long and lithe, covered in yellow feathers up until the ankle, below which the skin is bare and purple. each foot has three toes, two of which are based flat on the ground with mid-length claws. the third toe closest to the body is raised high, sporting a large, sickle-shaped claw, curved sharply compared to the other claws.

a fan of long, light-yellow feathers spans out from the tip of the tail, resembling both the wing feathers and the crown of feathers on the head, adorned with purple spots. the overall outline resembles a diamond, with a vague zig-zag formed by a few feathers on the sides. two long decorative feathers resembling those found on the wings sprout from the sides of the fan as well.

END ID]

Name: Zoomzolt

Type: Electric

Animal Inspirations: road-runners, cockatoos, microraptors in general

Extra design notes: since the spots on the cheeks canonically match the other fossil in the pair, that gave me free-rein to choose whatever color I felt like, and I eventually landed on purple. I also redesigned the arms/wings b/c the shape was just kinda awkward and dull? I think the new wing shape adds more flair to the design, especially in combination with the tail. btw I only thought of the partly-arboreal lifestyle halfway through the piece, and I didn’t feel like changing the claws to fit it better. just know I’m aware that the wing claws should be curvier, and the toe claws (sans sickle) shorter, lmao

Pokedex entry:

Zoomzolts are a highly social species, roaming the moors and forests in groups of 20 or more. while individuals aren’t particularly strong, their tight social bonds more than make up for the lack-- several Zoomzolts can combine their electric powers and deliver devastating blows to even the fiercest opponents. if this isn’t enough, Zoomzolts are a quick and agile species-- they can race away across the plains or climb up nearby trees before their opponent can recover. their unique feet provide an advantage here-- a marriage between an arboreal lifestyle with the curved sickle-claw for climbing, and a grounded lifestyle with the rest of the flat toes for stable running.

besides scaring off predators, Zoomzolts mainly use their electricity to attract and capture prey. at night, packs of Zoomzolts will gather in the upper foliage of tall trees, settle down, and allow small sparks of electricity to arc across their purple spots-- from one part of the body to another, and from one individual to another. this creates a dazzling light show that many nocturnal Bug Pokemon simply can’t resist. when these bugs venture close, the nearest Zoomzolt will quickly snatch them up before returning to formation.

Zoomzolts are friendly and curious to a fault, known for snooping among human belongings if left alone for too long. they’re very easy to train and bond well with humans, but a Zoomzolt will always need more of their own kind to truly thrive. at least 3 or 4 other Zoomzolts are needed for an individual Zoomzolt’s social/mental health, but not all trainers are committed to keeping that many of one species.

~~~

[IMAGE ID: text to the right of the Pokemon reads “Dunkovish” with a tan button and blue button underneath reading “Rock” and “Water”, respectively. the background is a light blue with some areas of shade.

pictured is a fish-like Pokemon, with a typical torpedo-shaped body and a stocky, blunt head. most of the body is blue, with areas of orange and pale yellow, as will be described. the body is positioned in a downward curve, as if the Pokemon is poised to strike at something off-screen.

the head is heavily armored, with most of the main skull forming one large oblong-dish shape. much of this armor is dark blue, while other sections are a bronze-orange color. the jaws are formed out of large, jagged plates, creating massive interlocking orange teeth. the jaw is gaping slightly open, showing a pale blue inner mouth. the visible jaw hinge is rounded and prominent on the cheek. two small, round, bulging eyes sit just above the jaws, on either side of the head near the hinges. the eyes are pale yellow with black, vertical, rectangular pupils.

a few other large plates of armor (some dark blue, some bronze orange) extend out past the main head piece onto the body, arranged like overlapping scales. these plates all have lines at the trailing edges, implying a simple texture. the main body beyond these scales is pale blue, with splotches of dark blue and smaller spots of orange splattered across the body, arranged in a pattern to imply small scales.

there are two sets “limb fins”, one directly behind the lower jaw, and the other near the tail. both sets are built on prominent lobes extending from the main body and matching the main body colors, before the spines of the fin extend out from the ends, flaring out in a pale yellow. the front set of fins is medium-size, smaller than the head, while the back set is much smaller.

the tail fin starts on the back, in the middle of the spine, and extends down to the tip of the tail, then underneath into an extra lobe of spines. visually, this means the main fleshy part of the tail extends into the upper lobe of longer spines, while the lower, shorter lobe of spines flares out underneath, unsupported. this tail fin is pale yellow.

END ID]

Name: Dunkovish

Type: Rock, Water

Animal Inspirations: dunkleosteus, coelacanth

Extra design notes: added in a rock type b/c of the whole “armored fish” thing, and some orange to complement that

Pokedex entry:

this Pokemon roams the open ocean, traveling dozens of miles every day in search of large prey to attack. once spotted, Dunkovish will swim off an appropriate distance, then charge the prey at full speed, ramming their rock-hard skulls into their prey. these charging attacks can easily shatter bone and internal organs, leaving their prey weak and defenseless as Dunkovish feasts.

Dunkovish aren’t typically a danger to humans, as they usually steer clear of shorelines. small shipping vessels are more at risk, as Dunkovish can mistake the ships for prey and ram into them, causing shipwrecks and major losses.

while their power makes them dangerous for the inexperienced, Dunkovish are shockingly easy to train. they’re very food-motivated Pokemon, so all a prospective trainer needs is a lot of tasty chum and a bit of patience.

~~~

[IMAGE ID: text to the upper left of the Pokemon reads “Arctoise” with a light blue button underneath reading “Ice”. the background is light blue with some areas of shade.

this Pokemon looks to be a cross between a tortoise and a plesiosaur, with a large, rounded shell, two sets of long fins, and a paddle-like tail. the shell is mostly snow-white, while the rest of the body is mostly blue with areas of white, as will be described. the body is floating at rest, fins spread-eagle from the body for balance.

the shell is fairly tall and dome-shaped, with the lower half wrapping underneath the torso, between the front and hind legs. the shell has some ridges at the back implying “layers” of snow, which smooth out as they reach the front of the shell. the base color is snow-white, while the lower two “layers” get progressively darker, into a blue-ish light grey. this grey peters out into spots as it reaches the front of the shell.

the head is long, thin, and sharply pointed, making for a thin spear shape. the snout resembles a dolphin beak-- long and rounded at the tip. the eyes are sharp and triangular, with visible white sclera, light blue irises, and round black pupils. the nostrils are based at the center of the beak, raised up along with a small ridge of bone at the center-line of the beak, meeting the forehead. the nostrils are merged together into a small heart shape. a set of small spiral shapes frames either side of the cranium, implying some kind of auditory system. the neck is tucked into the body in the main art, but a small doodle to the side shows the neck fully extended-- long and serpentine like a heron. while the main body (outside the shell) is an aqua blue, the head itself is mostly dark blue, with a few stripes of aqua blue at the tip of the beak.

there are two sets of long, pointed fins, the front set slightly larger than the back set. the front set of fins sit to either side of the neck, settled into the open body cavity of the shell. the back set extend from the shell as well, just in front of the tail. each fin’s base color is dark blue, with white tips and white spots that vaguely follow the inner bone structure of the fins.

the tail is thick and somewhat short, smoothly transitioning from the wide main body-shell down into a pointed tip. lobes of short cartilaginous fins sprout from the top and bottom of the tail tip, the top lobe taller but not as long, and the bottom lobe shorter height-wise but longer. the main tail is aqua blue, while the fins are dark blue.

END ID]

Name: Arctoise

Type: Ice

Animal Inspirations: sea turtles, tortoises, plesiosaur, herons, anhingas

Extra design notes: in retrospect, the ‘shell’ is prolly meant to be a mane of fur, but I like my shell idea too much to change it (if I were to redo it tho, I might’ve gone for like... seal inspiration? selkie lore?? hm). also certain restorations of plesiosaurs shaped the ‘paddle’ on the tail like I’ve shown, which makes more sense to me.

Pokedex entry:

this Pokemon is closely related to the modern Lapras, as seen in their many shared structural features. many researchers even believe Arctoise to be a direct ancestor to Lapras due to genetic similarities, but this question hasn’t been fully resolved.

Arctoise are very successful predators of the frigid southern pole, utilizing a unique hunting technique. they float patiently out near glaciers, necks tucked into their shells and staying perfectly still for hours on end. when other Pokemon see the Arctoise’s shiny white shell, they’re fooled into thinking it’s a snow-covered glacier, safe to rest on. when the Pokemon settles comfortably on the shell, Arctoise snaps into action, quickly flipping over so their prey is thrown into the water. sometimes this is enough to drown the prey (often true for Flying Pokemon that dropped down to rest), but usually this only stuns the prey. this gives Arctoise the chance to snap out their long neck and capture the prey in their powerful jaws. once subdued, Arctoise will right their body in the water and enjoy their meal.

despite the ponderous size/shape of this species, Arctoise are still able to float quite easily due to air sacs located near their spine (thus, near the top of their shell). these sacs allow Arctoise to carefully control how they float, and help hold the large dome of their shell above the water.

communities of small Water Pokemon often form around Arctoise. the large shell and quiet demeanor makes for a stable underwater haven, and a steady source of food from the scraps that Arctoise leaves behind. they’re usually safe from Arctoise’s appetite, as they’re too small to be considered a proper meal. additionally, these small Pokemon often attract larger prey to the area, providing Arctoise more hunting opportunities.

Arctoise is an aloof species, and won’t respond well to “overly-affectionate” bond-based training. but as long as their space and solitude is respected, an Arctoise is willing to cooperate with a trainer towards mutual goals.

~~~

[IMAGE ID: text to the upper left reads “Dracoleon” with a purple button and magenta button underneath reading “Dragon” and “Poison”, respectively. the background is a light purple with some areas of shade.

there are two Pokemon in this image, one to the left with a “female” ♀ symbol, and one to the right with a “male” ♂ symbol. both Pokemon resemble stocky, low-set herbivorous dinosaurs, with short/thick legs, and round/heavy torsos. the female is far larger than the male, and sports two rows of large spikes along her back. the base color of both is a dark green, with large swathes of magenta patterns, as will be described. both are poised with their heads low to the ground, and the female’s tail raised in a defensive position.

the heads of both sexes are wide and triangular, with sharp points at either side of the skull, and a pointed beak at the tip. their round eyes rest underneath the flat top of the skull, facing outwards to either side. the female’s eyelids are pointed down in an angry expression, while the male’s eyelids are pointed up in a worried expression. their visible sclera are white, and their irises are dark magenta. their nostrils sit on either side at the point of the beak. there are prominent bumps on either side of the skull, just behind the eyes, implying an auditory system. the flat top of the skull is bright magenta, while the rest of the head is dark green.

the small head transitions into the larger body via a thick, short neck, held low to the ground. the torsos are both round, heavy, and somewhat horizontally flat like a lizard. the base color is dark green with a light green underbelly, while the magenta pattern on the head extends all the way down to the tail, covering the full back. several pointed spikes of color stick out from the pattern, trailing down the sides of the torso and legs.

the female has two rows of light magenta spikes sticking out from the upper-sides of her torso, 7 pairs in total. the front-most spikes are the largest, with a horn-like shape that curves out in a wave of out-up-out into a sharp tip. the shape of the spikes gradually transitions from round horns to triangular plates at the end of the tail. the sizes transition from the largest at the front, smaller on the torso, larger at the center of the tail, then small at the tip again. all the spikes point at an angle out/up from the body, except for the very last pair on the tip of the tail, which stick out flatly from the sides of the tail.

the legs of both sexes are short and stocky, with thick underlying muscles. the feet are all digitigrade, but the foot/”hand” sections are very short. the feet all have 3 main toes set flat on the ground, while the front feet have a dew claw set higher on the hand, above the ground. all claws are short/thick and hoof-like, though the female’s are slightly longer and sharper. the hind legs are longer than the front legs, pushing the hips higher than the shoulders. the legs are all dark green with light magenta claws. the female has extra magenta stripes running horizontal across the legs.

the tails are both thick, transitioning smoothly from the thick body down to a pointed tip. the male’s tail is short and stubby, while the female’s is longer, sporting the spikes.

END ID]

Name: Dracoleon

Type: Dragon, Poison

Animal Inspirations: stegosaurus, ankylosaurus. (also.... Kaim from Devilman......)

Extra design notes: I mostly color-picked for the other Pokes, but I shifted Dracoleon’s color a lot from the canon colors. the og colors were just a bit too much for me-- hurt a lil bit to look at. so I shifted the red more magenta, and the green to a duller, more subdued saturation. I’m hoping the purple-shifted red conveys the Poison type better. also added a couple more spikes to the tail for flair.

Pokedex Entry:

due to their heavy sexual dimorphism, researchers originally identified male Dracoleon remains as juveniles of the species. it wasn’t until this Pokemon was fully restored in the flesh that this misconception was corrected.

female Dracoleon are highly territorial, aggressively defending their territory against anything they perceive to be a threat. thus, females are generally solitary, only tolerating the presence of male Dracoleon. this aggression only increases during breeding season, when females compete for male attention, and then nesting season when defending their hatchlings.

male Dracoleon are much smaller and more docile than their female counterparts. while females will actively protect males when the males are still within their territory, males usually find protection in numbers by banding together into small groups. males are as attentive to nesting needs as the females, but since they end up mating with several females a year, they roam in small groups across several territories. they’ll visit one female’s nest to help with food and nest protection for a while, before heading off to the next territory for another round of nest-duty. these transition periods from one territory to another are where males are most vulnerable to predation, so they try to travel quickly.

females’ spikes are covered in a toxic oil which is mostly an irritant to fellow Dracoleon and Poison-types, but can easily kill other species if it penetrates the skin. their magenta patterns build an association between their bright coloring and toxicity, which helps protect the males from predation by association, despite the males not having toxic spikes.

while Dracoleon are herbivorous generalists of thick forest regions, they seem to prefer roots and tubers over foliage. Dracoleon territory is easily identified by scattered areas of dug-up soil and holes.

while male Dracoleon are generally easy to befriend and train, females are very stubborn and aggressive towards most training attempts. however, if an experienced trainer is determined enough to prove their worth to their Pokemon, Dracoleon can become one of the most loyal and trustworthy companions a trainer could hope for.

[bluesylveon2]

Do You Remember When? (Epilogue)

Written for @levihanweek Day 6: Memory and Day 7: Free Space. This is a continuation of the other fic I wrote which you can find here!

Part 1

A/N:

Levi and Hange are 24 when they meet again and 29 when they get married

Thank you @levihanweek for hosting Levihan Week and @immagoudaboi for beta reading!

Enjoy!

Levi believed, with all his heart, that he was in some cheesy romantic movie or a shitty fanfic. Like the ones where there are 2 childhood friends, they separate, meet again, and fall in love after all those years.

Well, now that movie/book had ended and opened up to the sequel: the marriage.

Levi stared at himself while he adjusted the tie in the mirror. He was currently getting ready for his big day, and he also wanted to be alone for a few minutes. Here he was at a stage in life he never expected. Marrying his childhood crush, Hange.

The couple decided to keep their marriage small. Only close friends and families were allowed to witness the event. Luckily they found a small botanical garden that was perfect for the venue, reception, and sunset photoshoots. Plus, the garden had a section dedicated to sunflowers, a flower that makes Levi smile every time he sees it. Overall, it was perfect for the couple.

Levi still remembered the day they reunited. It was only 5 years ago when Hange was with Erwin, and Levi swore Erwin would introduce her as his lover. Boy, was he wrong.

Levi made a mental note to thank whoever above for not including that.

(Np Levi)

His relationship with Hange developed smoothly for the most part. Sure there were rough patches along the way, but the two always overcame it. Thus their love grew stronger as the years progressed.

Their first date started as a simple fancy homemade dinner. It was quiet and peaceful. The couple had even sung some karaoke and ended the night waltzing to jazz music.

The second date was a whole 180. This date included Levi's 2021 Ducati XDiavel Black Star

motorcycle. It was a gift given to him by his uncle and all the gambling money he earned. The bike alone took Hange's breath away.

---

Hange let out a loud whistle as she eyed the Ducati. The motorcycle was very sleek, black, gray, and had a few hints of red. Overall, it screamed Levi.

"Levi! I didn't know you owned a Ducati! Do you know how much they are? Over 20k!" Hange exclaimed with stars in her eyes. Levi smirked before walking up to her side. He wrapped an arm around her waist and rested his head on her shoulder.

"Actually, this bike was a gift from Kenny. He won enough at the casino and bought it for me for my 24th birthday."

Hange fondly smiled at the thought. She knew Kenny always had a soft spot for Levi since he is his only nephew.

"You know what we should do now, Levi?" Hange's smile turned into a full grin. "Let's take it for a spin!"

Levi took his head off of Hanges shoulder and looked at her with shock. "Just like 10 years ago?"

"Yes! But…." Her voice trailed off, and she stared down at her feet. "Can I drive it this time?"

Levi's jaw dropped, and he just stared at her. Hange waved a hand in front of his face.

"Levi? Are you there?"

"I heard you. It's just….are you sure?" He asked with worry, and Hange chuckled at how cute he looked.

"No need to worry about me, Levi. Mike used to let me drive his motorcycle around, so I know what to do."

"He let you do what?!" Levi became horrified. Why didn't Mike ever mention this to him?

Hange waved a hand nonchalantly. "I only had minor scrapes when I first started, but I managed to pick it up quickly. Just like you!"

-----

"So, where do you want to go?" Hange asked Levi, who wrapped his arms around her waist. The motorcycle purred with life, and the two had their helmets secured on their heads. The only thing left to do was actually leave Levi's garage.

"I'm okay with going anywhere. Just as long as I’m with you."

"Really? You don't mind driving us off the cliff?" Hange teased and laughed at her own suggestion.

Levi rolled his eyes but smirked along with Hange. "No, and nowhere reckless, Four-Eyes. Got it?"

Hange did a mini salute before facing forward and positioning herself to take off. "Yes, sir! Besides, I know the perfect place to go."

Levi decided to not question where Hange wanted to bring him. He trusted her enough to know that wherever she brought him will hold significance to the both of them.

Levi rested his head against Hange's back as she took off. He watched the city pass by in a blur while listening to Hange's merry laugh. It was like music to his ears despite the other sounds in the background. He kept his focus on Hange only.

Hange zoomed and zigzagged through the city. What felt like seconds, was actually hours when they arrived at their destination. Levi's eyes widened in recognition.

"Is this?" Levi asked Hange, and she nodded.

In front of Levi was the same park he took her to several years ago. The park itself had been updated in the past 10 years since the time he and Hange last snuck out. There were multiple colorful flowers and trees planted all over to provide more natural shade. Additionally, the city added more benches so people could sit down and enjoy the scenery.

Hange parked the motorcycle so she and Levi could get off. She extended her hand out to Levi (which he gladly accepted) and led him to the hill, where they shared their first kiss.

This time, there was a giant ginkgo tree with bright yellow leaves on the branches. The autumn breeze blew some of the leaves off to float in the air as if they were dancing. Hange let go of Levi to run up ahead and go under the tree.

It was an amazing sight for Levi to witness: from below the tree, Hange watched the leaves fall. She spread her arms out and laughed as the leaves began dancing around her body like it was people worshiping a goddess.

Boy was Levi in love.

"Levi! Come join me." Hange called out to him as the ginkgo leaves started decorating her brown hair.

Levi strode over to Hange and reached up to her head when he was close enough. He plucked a yellow leaf out of Hange's hair and brought it close to examine it.

"Did you know that the ginkgo leaf is considered a living fossil, and it symbolizes hope and peace in China? Additionally, it also survived the Hiroshima bombing, so it also symbolizes endurance and vitality."

Suddenly, Hange's face became serious, and she clasped her hands over Levi's. The yellow ginkgo leaf remained in Levi's grasp.

"Levi, I'm sorry about our falling out in the past."

"Hange, you don't need to apologize-"

Hange shut Levi up by pressing a finger to his lips.

"Let me finish." She added and retracted her finger. "I want this relationship-" she gestured between the two of them. "To be like the ginkgo leaf. Do you want to know why?" She quietly added.

Levi remained quiet but nodded his head, so Hange could continue.

"I want us to endure through every challenge we face together. Until we die. I want us to someday live together, have kids, and keep making happy memories. I know this is our second date, but I have always loved you, Levi. I want you to know that, but I don't expect you to--"

Hange never finished her rambling when Levi swiftly grabbed Hange by the back of her head and brought his lips to hers. She dropped her hands down and brought Levi close to her.

Levi didn't need to vocalize anything, but Hange already knew. It was like telepathy between the two of them; Levi loved her too.

The couple was preoccupied with their embrace to notice the yellow ginkgo leaf flutter down and land softly on the grass.

---

Levi smiled at the declaration of love under the ginkgo tree. The leaf Levi held was now pressed in a frame that sat in the couple's living room. It was a constant reminder of a new start in their lives. It symbolized turning a new leaf for the two.

Levi moved on to add the boutonniere to his suit. The item itself was made up of fake (because it saves money and lasts longer. Hange’s words, not his) sunflowers. Levi smiled after he finally pinned the boutonniere.

Boy, was he in love with Hange.

The door rattling interrupted Levi's thoughts of his fiance, and he clicked his tongue in annoyance.

"Mike! Erwin! I told you to knock before coming in-" Levi complained and turned around to glare at the intruder, only to be greeted by his fiance instead.

"Here. Hange?!" He exclaimed, and Hange chuckled.

"Oh, Levi. You know I don't knock when I enter the room. Especially the bedroom. I always catch you at the perfect times." She chuckled and wiggled her eyebrows. Levi blushed and looked away out of embarrassment.

"Why are you here? What about the whole 'seeing the bride before the wedding thing?'" Levi added, and Hange rolled her eyes.

"I could care less about that whole superstition shit, Levi. You know that."

Levi looked at Hange with concern. "What are you doing here anyway? Is something wrong?"

Hange fake gasped and widened her eyes. "Is it wrong for me to see my future husband on our wedding day?" She slumped her shoulders and strode over to stand next to Levi. Levi, noticing Hange’s distress, led her to sit down on a nearby sofa.

"Levi, to be honest, I'm nervous, and I just wanted to see you.”She admitted, wrapped her arms around Levi, and buried her face in the crook of his neck. She was careful enough to not ruin her makeup and hair.

Levi hugged Hange back and rubbed her back. "Your bridesmaids must be worried about you right now. Did you go ‘bridezilla’ on them?"

Hange laughed and looked up at Levi. He looked down at her in return. "Worse, but you don't need to know that."

Levi chuckled, and silence enveloped the two. It was nice, just sitting alone together in tranquility. This was their time to share before the ceremony. Sure, there might be chaos outside the room, but Levi and Hange were together. They endured every challenge like the ginkgo tree. The couple was also like a sunflower and the sun: facing each other until the end of the day.

-------

©: This is where I insert all rights reserved stuff. This story belongs to me. Do not modify or republish.

A/N:

I wrote 3 different wedding au's so far and I find that hilarious!

Thank you @cat for the suggestion! This is late but I was inspired to write more 😁

[xbunnybunz]

Sick Days [BEN Drowned x Reader]

Summary: When a creepypasta manages to crawl into your home through a computer, people usually scream and call the police. You? Well, it's just another normal day for you.

Genre: Fluff, Horror, Humor

Date: June 20, 2015

-----

You sat in your room with the expression of utter boredom painted on your features, your hand absentmindedly tracing patterns on the table next to your open laptop. You grunted as your computer went into hibernation mode again and tapped the spacebar to reawaken the screen. Your bedroom window was wide open, allowing the evening breeze to float into your adobe and gently rustle the papers on your table. Fading streaks of sunlight peeked through your fluttering curtains, caressing your body with soft warmth.

Despite the serene atmosphere that had settled into your semi-messy room, your features were soon twisted into a grimace. The fingers that had been trailing along the table began drumming a steady rhythm, growing quicker and more impatient by the second. You glanced at the clock for what seemed like the hundredth time that day, and read the blaring red numbers 6:23 PM. You scowled, annoyed. "Ugh, where is that little rascal?" You muttered, tapping your keyboard again and watching irefully as your homescreen popped up again. Ben usually arrived before sundown, but the sun was already halfway down the horizon. Ben probably would've taunted you for being so worked up over his absence, and you, being a little short tempered, would probably fall for his teasing and would have exploded into a mess of jumbled profanities. Though many would describe your actions now as "eager," you recalled how petrified you were when Ben first popped out of the fossilized desktop your dad insisted they brought when your family moved. That day, your mother and father had been visiting a sick relative in the hospital, and couldn't come home for the night. You, feeling free and a little daring, decided to stay up the entire night watching horror flicks in your livingroom. Although you felt the terror of eight marathoned horror movies shake you to your core, you persisted, jumping at every little noise from the movie and from your creaky home. That's why, when you witnessed the forgotten computer in the corner of the livingroom fizz and flicker on and off, you froze in unfathomable fear, merely staring as a deathly pale hand clawed it's way out of a jumble of binary code and pixels. By the time a head of tousled white hair and pitch black eyes with crimson irises emerged from the screen, you were already halfway out the door, knowing better than to trap yourself in your own bedroom. You would've spent the night at a neighbor's house, but your closest neighbor must have been at least a mile away- being that your family decided to move into the suburbs. Unfortunately for you, who was secluded in the pitch black of the night with god-knows-what in your house, it was pouring outside. In your mad scramble for salvation, you had not grabbed the keys to your house. You had originally settled for the plan to stay in the freezing rain, (it was definitely a safer bet than being in the house) but alas, the hours spent watching scary movies finally took its toll on you, and had made you paranoid to every small rustle and crunch. (In truth, it was just the trees.) This terror had driven you to crawl up some old growths of ivy on the side of your home, feeling blessed to find your bedroom window open just a crack- allowing you to pry the rest of the window open. Halfway through your window, you looked up- only to become blatantly horrified. There the white-haired boy was, floating in the middle of the room with bleeding eyesockets- as if he had been waiting for your arrival. Overcome with panic and surprise, you allowed the wet soles of your feet slip out from under you, sending your drenched body sailing face-first towards the hardwood floor of your bedroom. Your nose took the brunt of the fall, and erupted in a mess of blood upon impact. The pain of a shattered nose did little to deter you from the thing in your room. Holding your nose with both hands, you scrambled to press yourself against the wall- as far away from that demon-ghost-thing as possible. But when you looked back up, you were shocked to find it trying desperately to hold back laughter, it's eye twitching from the effort. The corner of it's mouth was twitching toward a smirk, and it's eyes were betraying it's stoic expression- it wanted to laugh at you! You shot to your feet, prepared to duke it out with the hovering monster- only to slip a second time on the rainwater that you had tracked into your room. This time, your head collided hard with the frame of your bed, and you blacked out. You woke up the next morning with a wrapped head and a bandaged nose. It turns out your parents had returned from their little trip and found you lying in a puddle of your own nosebleed- which sounds as humiliating as it felt- and had patched you up. After you told them about what you had seen, your parents merely laughed and gave you an affectionate pat on the head, claiming that the stress of moving and lack of sleep had to do with your "hallucinations." You would've believed them, if it wasn't for the fact that the boy showed up in your room again. You fell asleep while using your laptop and when you awoke, you found the pale-haired boy freeing his foot from your computer screen. Though you were sure that the white-haired monster returned to finish you off, you found him simply pointing his finger at your wrapped up face and cackling at you, tears budding in the gaping holes that were his eyes. You felt your face burn with embarrassment, and though you should have called for help, you simply sat there, allowing the strange being to laugh at your misfortune. After what felt like an eternity he retreated back into your computer, still snickering- leaving you bewildered and dazed. He later introduced himself as Ben Drowned over a cyberchat website named "Cleverbot," and you learned his story, as well as the fact that he could teleport just about anywhere that held an electronic device. Later that night, you awoke to a flooded room. With your heart pummeling with fear, you gasped and flailed for breath, desperately searching for a way out. You were less than pleased to find Ben on the screen on your open laptop- which was, for some reason, still working under water. His shoulders shook with muted laughter, doubling over with the hilarity he found in your pitiful predicament. As soon as it started, it was gone. The water that had once filled your room was gone, leaving everything unscathed in it's wake. Once you found mobility in your limbs again, you stormed to your laptop (which still contained the laughing freak) and took out the battery, taking away the laptop's source of life. You stormed about your house, rampaging in the middle of the night to turn off or unplug any source of electricity you could- the phones, the computers, televisions- even the dusty desktop. Despite the complaints of your confused parents, you were at peace. Since you had cut off any source of electricity, (other than the lights) that pesky elf hadn't bothered you- probably because he couldn't. However, your happiness was short-lived. Upon returning from school one day, you found that your parents had somehow reconnected everything before going to work- leaving you with two things: electricity, and an angry Ben. You had no idea how you did it, but you managed to convince Ben not to suck you into the netherworld or kill you- With minimal damage to the house. Before you placated him, Ben had flown into a livid tantrum, tossing tables and pictures to-and-fro with some unseen force, only ceasing when you promised that you would keep all electronics plugged in- thus allowing him to drop in any time he liked. Since then, the white haired boy with red irises visited routinely each day without intentions to scare you, though you were still unnerved by his presence at first. As if he sensed your uneasiness, Ben began to annoy you. Ceaselessly. Day after day, he knocked over decorative vases, messed up your room, taunted your occasional bad grades, and in all: irked the hell out of you. Yet here you were, waiting for his arrival like some kind of goddamned puppy. "What. Ever." You hissed through clenched teeth, standing up from your computer table, "Maybe he got bored of me. He's been visiting me for... God knows how long already...Good riddance." Despite your words, you felt a twinge of sadness prick your heart like a fine-tipped needle. Though he was undoubtedly aggravating most of the time, you had liked him company. Just a little. You sighed, the beams of twilight cast your shadow across the floor. "I should prepare some microwaveable dinner, my parents are working overtime today." As you sulked slowly towards your bedroom door, a loud crash and the sound of loud static pierced your eardrums, making you leap several feet into the air and scramble for the doorknob, storming downstairs to find the source of the noise. You were both annoyed and relieved to find Ben crawling out of the screen of the old desktop, though your annoyance went out the window once you spotted his shaking arms on the edge of the screen, as if he couldn't support his own weight. You extended a hand out to him, flinching as he finally managed to haul himself out of the mess of codes, landing in a heap on the floor. "Ben?" You inquired, peering at his crumpled form. "Are you okay...?" You knelt down next to him, touching his shoulder gently. "Ben?" At your voice, the creepypasta turned to look at you weakly before sniggering quietly- which worried you a bit. "What are you doing in my house?" You raised an eyebrow. "Ben, this is my house. Not yours." Ben, who had a pinkish hue to his pale cheeks, took a look around before the realization dawned upon him. "Oh, right. I'll be going then." You watched as the usually boisterous entity struggled to get back onto his feet, only to fall down again. This time, however, you caught him. Once his body made contact with your arms, you nearly shrieked. The back of his neck was burning hot, and the rest of his body was strangely warm- just like an overheated computer. "Ben-" You adjusted your hold on him, (he was a lot heavier than he looked) "Ben, are you sick?" Ben glared at you weakly. "No." You sighed, exasperated. His pride was going to be the death of him one day. You placed a gentle palm his forehead, cringing at the impossibly high temperature you felt. "Ben, you have a high fever. A bad one." The said person clicked his tongue and turned his face away, looking irritated. "That explains why I felt like shit the whole day." You couldn't help but snicker as you carried him to the couch, "That also explains why you didn't think of visiting me today." "Get off your high-fucking-horse, princess." Ben scowled, trying in vain to look threatening. "You should be thankful that I visit you everyday." You rolled your eyes, placing him softly on the couch. "Yeah, yeah. Thanks for gracing me with your presence everyday, dumbass." You swore you heard Ben grumble something under his breath, but you were already too far up the stairs to hear. You returned with several pillows, a thermometer and some pills from the bathroom cabinet, determined to nurse Ben back to health. Though he was an annoying turd most of the time, there were rare moments where he comforted you in times of need- though most of the time, his offers to help just involved murdering someone, which you kindly refused. ("Killing people isn't the solution to everything, you freaking moron!") Now, it was your turn to help him. With an abundance of pillows in your arms, you urged him to sit up for a second (which he did with an anguished groan) and slipped four or five behind him, ensuring his comfort. You went into the kitchen and returned with a damp cloth and a glass of water to drink with the medicine. To be honest, you weren't quite sure if human medicine worked on creepypasta such as Ben, but it was all you had. "Ben, come on, you need to take some medicine." He scoffed at you. "Get your Earth pills away from me. You know just as well as I do that those won't work for me." You knelt next to him on the floor next to the couch and uncapped the bottle, shaking two pills out of the container and nudging him up. "You're right. I don't know if it'll work, but it's the only thing I have, so just suck it up and take them." "Get away from me." He hissed. "Ben..." You said, your tone threatening, "Don't make me unplug everything again." At this, Ben's hollow eyes narrowed, the red specks of light in them piercing into your skull. "You wouldn't dare." You gulped, feeling a cold sweat accumulate at his intense gaze. You steeled yourself and glared right back at him. "Try me." Grudgingly, Ben accepted the pills and sat up. Before you could stop him, he threw the pills in his mouth and began to chew. You froze, holding the cup of water in your hand and staring at him with wide eyes. You had made the same mistake of chewing those pills when you were younger, prior to figuring out that you could use water to wash them down. To be frank, those pills could cause more damage than a fever if not taken with water- they were horrendously bitter, and nearly caused you to puke. Just as you thought, Ben gradually stopped chewing, turning even paler than he already was- if possible. Though his face showed no emotion, you could almost feel the bloodthirsty aura that washed off of him, obviously not too pleased with the taste. You wasted no time in shoving the glass of water in his hands, urging him to drink. The water was gone before you could even blink, and Ben held the front of your shirt with an intent of death in his eyes. "You-" He stuttered, his face tinted red from anger, "You-" You braced yourself for whatever might come, but surprisingly, the grip on your shirt loosened, and Ben flopped back down unceremoniously, letting the pillows swallow his lean body. "Oh, whatever... Why would humans invent something so horrible to heal a sickness? If anything, that just made me sicker..." You smiled nervously, feeling the slightest bit guilty. "Er, it's my fault... I should have told you about the water sooner..." Ben scowled faintly. "Damn right you should've." You whispered a low "sorry" before wringing the wet towel, placing the cool cloth on Ben's head. This pulled a sigh of satisfaction from his lips, his eyes fluttering closed with contentment. You uncapped the thermometer, clicking the "ON" switch before turning back to Ben. "One last thing before you rest, Ben. I need your temperature." Ben didn't even bother to open his eyes or complain- which surprised you. Without hesitation, he simply opened his mouth. You found yourself smiling endearingly at his actions: it was like handling a stubborn child- all you had to do was get past his hard shell. Taking Ben's temperature was a little bit of a struggle, since the digital screen glitched and spazzed out once it made contact with him. However, once you had taken his temperature, your eyes nearly bulged out of your head. The little pixels, occasionally glitching, read "105.7° F. " After discovering this little fact, you urged him to sleep for a bit- feeling a bit panicked. After the third time of telling him to just relax and sleep, Ben snapped at you. "If you tell me to go to sleep one more time, I'll call Jeff up here and tell him to put you to sleep." Though you knew this was an empty threat, it still shut you up. You had heard a lot about Jeff the Killer, and though some of your friends were obsessed with him, you weren't too keen on meeting him. After turning on the fan in hopes to cool Ben down, you settled back next to him on the floor, watching his uneven breathing. After a few moments of staring, Ben's eyes snapped open, feebly glaring at you before it turned into a smirk. "Sweetheart, I know i'm good looking- but if you're gonna stare, at least do something that can excuse you from it." You blinked and furrowed your brows, feeling embarrassed but relieved. It sounded like he was feeling a bit better- but was that really a good thing for you? Silently, you lifted a hand and began combing it through his silvery hair, knocking his hat astray. However, Ben didn't seem to mind. In fact, he completely ignored his hat and turned away from you, as if he were hiding his face. Despite his best efforts, you spotted a pinkish tint on his cheeks that extended to his ears- and you were sure it wasn't because of the fever he had. You watched him with soft eyes and continued your small ministrations, wondering how he had gotten sick in the first place. Before long, Ben had fallen asleep to your touch and the low hum of the fan. Sighing breathily, you gave the sleeping boy a thoughtful look. You didn't understand why he had kept the routine of visiting you everyday, but you weren't about to complain. Moving was no easy task, it included making new friends and leaving the old ones behind. Your socializing skills weren't your strongest suit, and although you tried your best, it was difficult to keep a conversation with someone at school- you feared their judgement. Though you knew most of the people at school didn't mean any harm to you, it was still a little scary for you to be cast out into a new environment so suddenly, it made you feel vulnerable. And although Ben had scared the pants off of you at first, you slowly began to realize that your arguments and chats with him didn't make you tense or anxious. Perhaps you could even go as far as to say he made you the slightest bit happy. You continued to play with his hair for a little while before removing your hands, observing him carefully. It was true that Ben was relatively handsome, though you would rather die than admit that to him. His white hair and pale complexion gave him the look of a hauntingly beautiful angel, though his eyes were dark and devilish, always seeming to hold only the most malicious of intentions. While he was awake, his countenance was usually twisted into a smirk or a sneer- which didn't exactly make him more attractive, but definitely did not take away from it, either. However, as he was asleep, you couldn't help but notice how strikingly bewitching he looked without the usual grimace. His long, white eyelashes brushed against his cheekbones, colored pale pink with his fever. Though you hadn't noticed it previously, it was almost unnerving how captivating Ben was. With his sleek, graceful features relaxed, you almost wouldn't have been able to guess that he was such a cunning gremlin while he was awake. You couldn't stop your eyes from wandering to his lips, which were slightly parted with his steady inhales and exhales. Just like the rest of his body, his lips were deathly pale, and slightly chapped- though they still looked inviting. You blushed and averted your eyes upon realizing how inappropriate your thoughts were. Ben was horribly sick and helpless, yet here you were, daydreaming about... A kiss... You covered your face, feeling humiliation wash over you in waves. Ben would probably laugh himself to death if he knew what you were thinking. The mere thought of being with Ben was impractical within itself, since there was no way monsters like him were even capable of feelings, right...? Your train of thought was halted when you heard the silverette groan lowly from across you. You peered out from your hands with questioning eyes, wondering if you had woken him up with the intensity of your staring. (Was that even possible, though?) He wasn't awake. His eyes were still sealed shut, but his mouth was twitching, as if he were trying to say something. You leaned in closer, watching attentively. Did he want water? A colder towel? More pillows? Suddenly, much to your shock, your name erupted from his lips, sounding like a cross between a groan of irritation and a plea. Then, he was silent again. You felt a warmness in your body emitting from the center of your stomach, and before long, you found yourself smiling at Ben. He was asleep, so it wouldn't hurt too much, right...? Slowly, you leaned forward and brushed back some of his soft locks, marveling at how pretty his face was. With such a small distance between you two, you could smell his scent- a distinct smell of static and coconut. Gently, you pressed your lips to his cheek, feeling the warmth of his soft, feverish skin on your own mouth. As you pulled away, you found a hand on the back of your head, pulling you back in. Wide eyes registered as Ben tilted his head, and his lips met yours, watching your bewildered expression with groggy, half-lidded eyes before he closed them, pressing his lips harder against your own. His mouth was burning hot, no doubt it was because of the fever, but it made the kiss even harder to resist. With flushed cheeks, you allowed your eyes to slip shut as well, returning the gentle pressure lightly. You noted that Ben was being unusually careful as he cupped your face, as if you were made of fragile glass that would shatter at any moment. You smiled at this, and brushed the side of his cheek with the back of your hand endearingly. He pulled away and you opened your mouth to speak, but before you could get a word in, his lips descended upon yours again, his tongue sweeping over your already open lips and tickling the roof of your mouth. You squeaked a bit at this, and he pulled back, his hand still on your cheek, opening his eyes to take in your reddened face and light panting. And then you saw it. It surprised you more than the kiss did- and perhaps more than his first appearance did. Ben smiled. It was a genuine smile, albeit small, unlike the smirks and half-grins he gave you all the time. This time, his lips curled naturally, softening his scarlet eyes a twinge. The hues of twilight poured in from the window and washed over both of you, bathing both of you in a beautiful gradient of a fading pink, yellow and orange. You should have scolded him for kissing you while he was sick, but you couldn't find the heart to ruin the mood. Instead, you smiled back at him, leaning into the hand that remained on your cheek. There, in the wake of the lingering sun, you discovered that what once was your greatest fear was also your greatest treasure.

[teaboot]

Whats your ideal aesthetic

My room is beige, just like the rest of my unit. If I had the option, I'd paint it red, but it's not too bad as it is.

My bed is a single. The mattress belongs to my roommate, but the frame is simple, solid, light-colored wood. I paid $20 for it at a thrift shop by the road and carried it home on my back.

None of my cups and plates match. They're second-hand, like everything I own, collected one at a time from garage sales and such, but every single one is painted or sculpted by hand, and all the mugs are smooth and satiny and have the maker's initials scrawled under the bottom. Some have handles, some don't, and a few are crooked around the lip or have fingerprints pressed in along the base like old fossils.

I love art. I love practical art. I love the balance of form and function, the simple joy of tangible, human things.

My bedding is collected halfhazardly. They all have different patterns and textures in rich, pleasant colors. A thick brown and white falsa blanket is draped over my old blue sailor's chest; my fringed cotton throw sits on top of coyote-brown fur. My sheets are old, well-worn cotton and printed all over with little green leaves.

My favourite little things are on easy display: a banner of cards inked with skulls a friend brought me from her travels; a wood mask of an woman's angular face wearing a Cobra as a crown. A splintered wooden paddle, lined with brass hooks and mounted under my window to hang bracelets and necklaces and pretty little things. A wood scroll tapestry of Bodhisattva Guanyin looks down while she rides across the waves.

A long, low table by the wall catches the first morning light as it shines in between the blinds. The surface is cluttered with ancient, raggedy cloth-bound books, switchblades collected from pawn shops, little brown glass bottles, and an old tambourine. There's an empty can of ginger ale I've yet to dispose of sitting on a little cork coaster. An old red silk pillow I sit on when I work rests on a purple rag rug, missing a good half of its tassels.

The air smells like sunlight. Sunlight, and incense, and clean laundry, denim, and spearmint shampoo, and when my roommate's long-furred old cat comes in to sun himself on the covers his hair floats with dust motes in the light.

There's a pile of laundry on the floor. A bottle of pills running low. A dead flower on the corner that never did get planted. A few spots of blood are dried into stains, here and there,  and the hook that hangs my sweaters on the door makes it crack and creak when I open it. The neighbors are loud and their children scream at all hours, jumping back and forth between French and English so fast I can barely make out either.

But I'm happy here, now. Happy like I remember being as a younger version of myself running barefoot down the dirt back roads in the summer-time, catching snakes in a bucket and breaking open little round watermelons with rocks and staying outside until the sun went down.

I've spent years making my life performative, to construct an illusion of confidence and purpose. I suppose it's poetic that the beauty that delights me most now is born from scraping together what pleases me, and not everyone else.

[uk-fossils]

Genuine Megalodon Fossil Shark Tooth in 3D Floating Display Frame – Miocene Florida USA with COA

Add a striking piece of prehistoric ocean history to your collection with this genuine Carcharodon megalodon fossil tooth, sourced from the Miocene deposits of Florida, USA. Estimated to be around 5 to 20 million years old, this fossil belonged to the mighty Megalodon—the largest predatory shark to ever live. Known for its massive teeth and formidable bite, Megalodon ruled the ancient seas, and its fossilised remains are now prized by collectors and paleontology enthusiasts alike.

This authentic tooth is showcased in a 3D floating display frame with a base stand (black or white), which creates the illusion of the fossil suspended in mid-air while providing protection and a stunning view from both sides. The clear, double-membrane interior securely holds the tooth and highlights its unique features including natural serrations, shape, and coloration. Each tooth is a genuine, one-of-a-kind specimen, and photos show a representative example. A Certificate of Authenticity (COA) is included, confirming its legitimacy and geological origin.

Whether for a collector, student, fossil lover, or as a gift, this Megalodon tooth offers a dramatic glimpse into Earth’s ancient marine past—beautifully preserved and ready to display.

Highlights:

Genuine Megalodon (Carcharodon megalodon) fossil tooth

Recovered from Miocene-era deposits in Florida, USA

Estimated age: ~5–20 million years

Displayed in a 3D floating frame with included base stand (black or white)

Dual transparent membranes showcase the tooth from both sides

Each specimen is unique in size, shape, and colouration

Includes Certificate of Authenticity (COA)

Ideal for collectors, marine fossil enthusiasts, and educational displays

Perfect gift for fossil lovers and budding paleontologists

[hollowsart]

Sinnoh remake gym design ideas:

[another long post BUT Plz do give this a read!!]

Roark: FOSSILS EVERYWHERE!! YOU GOT FOSSILS STICKING OUT OF THE WALLS!! A HUGE FOSSIL OVERLOOKING ROARK’S STATION!! Please!!! Maybe you got some unique like.. platforms or bridges you you gotta cross to get to Roark!! That would be so cool!!

Gardenia: Combine! The! Two! Designs! From! DP! And Platinum! You start in the garden maze, trying to hunt down the well hidden trainers, each trainer you beat, you see the clock turn, you have to find and beat all of the trainers to get the clock to turn to the right formation so you can reach Gardenia at the end! Gardenia could even be sitting inside a place at the end similar to a Hidden Grotto from BW/2!

Maylene: There are two levels, the first shows a training area where most gym trainers reside, alongside a sliding puzzle that merges the two puzzles from DP & Pt. You solve that and gain access to steps that lead you to the second level. The second level is a large arena with barriers similar to a boxing/wrestling ring. You are challenged by 2 stronger gym trainers, after beating them in a row, Maylene shows up and despite her petite appearance, she’s very well trained in combat and her Pokemon are even more skilled in battle! It’s a very simple gym, but it puts both mind and body to the test to get to her!

Crasher Wake: Wrestling rings on platforms. There are waterfalls around the walls of the gym. You still need to maneuver around and press buttons for the water levels to rise and fall. Lower level rings hold swimmer and tuber trainers, the higher rings hold fishermen and sailors, so when the water levels rise and cover the lower rings, the trainers at the bottom will be fine and will be seen floating on the water safely. At the highest and furthest back level is a grand looking ring, the biggest waterfalls sit on either side of a little stage where Crasher Wake stands, his back is turned when you arrive. He laughs and congratulates the player, turning around he will flex and give the player more praise but will ask if they are ready for the final challenge of the gym. With that said, he’ll dive into the battle singing his own theme song!

Fantina: Haunted. Ballroom. Waltzing around the room in the dark, avoiding the spotlights, the trainers that dance around are optional battles if you’re good enough at avoiding them. Maybe there’s some kind of similar puzzle to Platinum where you have to make a match of something to get through to the next section of the room and eventually you will reach Fantina who stands on a stage dancing in the spotlight!

Byron: You are literally precariously climbing a bunch of scaffolding for a steel frame building. Construction crew trainers are all around, and you get to Byron at the very top where you cross a beam in a similar way as you did for Roark, but only after you’ve gone up several crane lifts.

Candice: Upon entering Candice’s gym, you are greeted by a LARGE icy and snow covered mountain that you must climb. But be careful! there are large snowballs rolling down. If you get hit by a snowball, you’ll be knocked back down to the start. Along the way as you climb, there will be sliding puzzles, solve the sliding puzzle right and you’ll be able to progress further up the mountain, solve it wrong tho and a snowball will fall and burst open with a trainer ready to battle! Candice sits at the top with a flag and a nice little camp set, she’s been waiting and she’s all warmed up and ready to help you warm up, too, with the heat of battle!

Volkner: If his gym doesn’t have Klink line puzzles I will be severely disappointed. Take a Klink in the first room to the generator of that room to get the floors to shift around correctly for you to get to the next room, then you just rinse and repeat for that one with a Klang, and the final room is a Klinklang! And you get to battle Volkner standing in the control area with levers and things!!

[salchat]

Angels is Green - a Stargate Atlantis short story

Of course, he had been there before, to that planet they called Earth.  He had been there before they returned to his galaxy, those brave few, unaware of the dangers they would wake.

The first time was when he was very young and the small ones had come across him in his time of testing, on the planet where his hive had left him, alone and feral and near the point of starvation, not having had the courage to hunt and to feed.  They had taken him to their ship and somehow nourished him and studied him in their detached yet compassionate manner, their huge, inscrutable black eyes blinking with impartial curiosity.

Perhaps they had regarded him as a pet, for he had run wild about their ship, and, perhaps also they had underestimated his intellect, because he had successfully manipulated their technology and managed to beam himself down to the surface of a planet.  He had spent a strange day communing with the odd inhabitants.  They were definitely human, their skins brown and soft and without the sheen of moisture that protected the skin of wraithkind, but their speech was crude and their manner of living primitive in the extreme.  He felt no urge to feed, presumably due to the small ones’ mysterious replenishing of his cells.  So he made himself known to the humans and they, having no knowledge that he might be dangerous, played with him happily enough; simple games involving running along the sands of their seaside home and splashing in the waves.

The small grey ones had found him, blinked and twittered at him amiably, behaved in a similarly indulgent manner toward the primitive humans, and taken him back to their ship.  They had eventually returned him to the planet where they had found him and at last his hunger had driven him to feed and he had taken his place as a full adult member of the hive.

The second time was much, much more recent, although still long before the lifetime of any of the humans who had repopulated Atlantis.

He had found an Ancient ship.  He had made it work.  He had travelled.  And, the ship’s hyperdrive having, at best, one or two journeys left in its decaying circuits, he had searched the database and found that far off planet of his youth.  That it was in a different galaxy had surprised him, but, not one to brook a challenge, he had directed the ship to take him there, had landed undetected, in a remote spot, and set out to explore.

The humans had advanced.  They had tainted the air with the bitter scent of fossil fuels, they had grown in number and clustered into cities of dark and dirty streets that reeked of poverty and disease.  They were no longer the simple, playful creatures that he had known, but separated themselves into those who worked long and hard and ate little and those who dressed well and ate much and apparently lived solely to be entertained.

The one that had, soon after joining the hive, been given the name ‘He who goes far’ or ‘He who finds a way’ or simply ‘Wayfarer,’ quickly realised that the overcrowded streets of a huge and often noisome and fog-bound city were excellent feeding grounds and, moreover, that he needed to do very little to blend into such pleasantly gloomy surroundings.  All he required was a suit of clothes; an elegant coat or a many-layered cape; a hat such as might be worn by a gentleman of the time, or one who aspired to be a gentleman; and perhaps a tall cane and a handkerchief to complete the ensemble.  These things were easily acquired in the usual course of a night’s feeding.  

Thus attired, Wayfarer found that he had no difficulty at all in passing for a normal human, because there was such a wonderful variety of what was regarded as normal in this place of transience.  There were constant arrivals of tall wooden ships, from which all manner of humans came forth, emanating through scent and taste and mind-sight their tantalising glimpses of desert-heat, ice-cold, jungle-rich, mountain-clear; so many impressions that, strolling among the wooden piers and stagings of the docks, Wayfarer nearly reeled from such life-rich promise.

And, though green skin, a spiracled countenance, pointed teeth and a feeding slit might have set him apart even amid such a myriad of individuals, the fact that disfiguring disease was rife also worked to his advantage.  It galled Wayfarer to be thought of as disfigured when his form, amongst his own kind, was considered decidedly pleasing, but expedience was everything in such a situation and he was, after all, glad to be able to hide in plain sight.  When glances or outright gasps of horror followed him down a filthy alley, he merely shrugged his shoulders in the manner of the locals and continued on his way.

The city and its great river teemed with life during the day and scarcely less so at night.  The humans swarmed the streets along with their animal or hand-drawn conveyances and swarmed the river in their little floating craft, and their business of buying and selling, gossiping and jeering, posturing and posing, living and dying took place in plenitude and abandon wherever and whenever they swarmed.  Wayfarer gloried in the abundance.

He loved best the narrow streets where houses overhung their boundaries and light was a rare commodity and he walked freely among them, becoming a familiar figure to the inhabitants, from the children who played amongst the filth to the watchman who tipped his hat warily in the blackest hours of the night.   

And Wayfarer observed that even in such poverty and deprivation there was often an undaunted spirit, a camaraderie of squalor, that led cross-shawled women to pass a shared bottle from gap-toothed mouth to wizened, grasping hand while calling out their raucous cries to tempt a passing stranger to the delights of their ravaged bodies.  Wayfarer would tip his hat at their earthy humour and greet their mock-refined responses with a hissing acknowledgement, leaving shrieks of alcohol-roughened laughter and broad winks and gestures in his wake.

The men brawling outside the public houses, the women scrubbing their doorsteps in a vain attempt to stave off the tide of dirt, all lived and laboured in common hardship, their solidarity as thick in the air as the blanketing fog.

But when that great, grey swathe slid up from the broad bends of the river and covered the city, sometimes for days at a time, there were dark deeds done in its choking miasma by those minds pushed too hard by the cruelties of life.  Wayfarer’s subtle stealth had no need of the fog’s heavy, grey cloak but he found himself venturing forth from his comfortable lodging more frequently than usual, prowling the alleys where hurried footsteps echoed over the damp cobbles, where yellow gas lamps barely penetrated the gloom.  Scents hung on the air, trailing behind tattered threads of mind-sight; scents of hunger and grief, lust and passion, fear and pursuit, and the sharp bitter tang of sudden, slashing violence.  He followed the dreadful spoor and rid the city of those who would prey on their own kind, those who would kill not for the gain of a few coins or trinkets that might feed themselves or their family, but for the bloody joy of the taking of life, the perverted ecstasy that hung in the air around their slain victims as thickly as the enveloping fog.  Such distorted figures of humanity found themselves the victims and were taken and given swift judgement.

It snowed and those without shelter died and the little barefooted children called out to Wayfarer in their hoarse voices, by turns false with bravado and then coaxing with a deep and true hunger.  Sometimes he would flick them a coin or two, because, he told himself, perhaps he would have need of their lives when his own hunger was great.

And once, strolling, cane in hand, down a dark, filthy alley, he was presented with an opportunity; an easy kill, a small morsel to stave off his growing need until nighttime presented greater opportunities.

The snow lay dirty and grey, the cobbles slick with grease and wet filth, and a scattered flock of bony, ragged children hurtled by, surrounding Wayfarer briefly, darting beneath his cane like silver fish.  One fell, but the others, swifter, had passed on and did not heed their fallen hive-mate.  The child picked himself up slowly, cursing like the man he would almost certainly never become; damning the snow and the cold and above all, condemning his own infirmity.  Wayfarer observed as the boy picked up a bent stick, padded at one end with a wrapping of rags.  He fitted it under his arm and leant heavily, his breath rasping in and out, releasing the vapour of his diseased lungs into the freezing air.  The child would surely not last the winter.  And yet his small life force might serve as a piquant appetizer to the night’s pleasure.

The boy raised red-rimmed eyes in a pale, gaunt face.  “Spare a penny guv’nor?”

Wayfarer rotated the cane in his long fingers, as if to screw it between the cobbles.  His feeding hand itched.

“Spare a ha’penny?  A farthing?  For Christmas, guv’nor?  For the little babby Jesus?”  The child’s voice was stronger than his emaciated frame, the curl of his lips a valiant attempt at winning humour.

“I will spare you what I have if you approach.”

The boy pulled himself up straight and contrived to fold his arms across his narrow chest while retaining a grip on the crutch.  “What’s your game, then, Mister?  I ain’t got nuffin for the likes o’ you to be a-thieving.”

“I am no thief.  I am merely curious and my sight is poor.  I would see the face of the one on whom I would bestow a gift.”  Fingers of fog crept up the alley, carrying with them the scent of the river and the stench of the tanneries.

The boy tipped his tattered cap further back on his head and looked directly into Wayfarer’s eyes.  “If you ask me, it’s a good thing you don’t see so well, with a phiz like that.  I bet you’d crack a mirror.”

Wayfarer added his hissing laugh to the boy’s rasping bray, not grudging the child his crude jest.  He held out his hand, his fingers crooked.  “Come.”  He let a faint imperative drift forth from his mind.

“Alright then, I ain’t afeard.”  The boy’s scent belied his words, but he thrust out his chest, took a firm grip on his crutch and hobbled boldly forward.

His cry, as Wayfarer’s fingers grasped the front of his ragged jacket, was easily stifled by a quick suppressing touch of the wraith’s mind.  Wayfarer tore the thin shirt open, adjusted his grip and applied his feeding hand over the bony ridge of the child’s sternum, enfolding the small, limp form within the wings of his cape.  It was, after all, daylight, even though it would be easy to stir ghosts within the fog to mislead any passers by.

The child began to struggle as the barbs penetrated his flesh, but his feeble attempts were no challenge, nor even a minor inconvenience to Wayfarer.  Then the struggles ceased.  The wraith sighed, a long, sibilant sigh of satisfaction.

He set the small body down on the cobbles, opened his cape wide, like a set of double doors and stepped back.

The child shuddered once all over and then was still.  

And then the boy’s wondering eyes travelled from his dirty, bare feet, planted squarely amid the grey slush, up over his two healthy legs, and his lungs expanded and contracted smoothly, without a whisper of a rasp.  His chin tipped back so that his round-cheeked, glowing face mirrored the wraith’s in a strange symmetry and his mouth fell open, the breaths in his newly-healed lungs coming quick and urgent.  

Would he speak?  Would he thank his saviour?  Would he scream in primitive incomprehension?

“I reckon the vicar got it wrong,” he said.

Wayfarer, who would later be called Todd, raised an eyebrow.

“All wrong,” whispered the child.

“How so?”

The boy swallowed, licked his lips and took a step back.  “‘Cos they ain’t white and shining with big fevvery wings.”  He shook his head, a smile slowly forming.  “Angels is green.”  

He spun around on his strong legs and jumped in the air, a young, wild human animal full of life and joy.  Then he ran, whooping and laughing, stumbling and righting himself, born a cripple and suddenly with a healthy unfamiliar body.

The fog swirled and the boy was gone.

  Wayfarer examined his thoughts.  Why had he spared the child?  Why did he take only those who made victims of their own kind?  Why, also, did he linger here, far, far from hive-mind and queen and home?  

Perhaps he would not stay much longer.  Perhaps he would return to that Ancient hulk, coax it to one more journey through the vast emptiness and then destroy it and all it contained.

And this place would remain, for these humans to grow and progress as they would, to fight amongst themselves with no great enemy from the stars, to develop and perhaps one day to strike out into the stars themselves.

The fog thickened and darkened and figures moved within, both real and phantom.  Footsteps and the tap of a cane echoed off the high walls and fluttered like shadows of sound, slowly diminishing into the gloom.  

And a few of those short human lifetimes later, as the sun’s rays touched the far side of that world they called Earth, Wayfarer was there again to see a sweeping bridge golden in the dawn light and a great bay lined with dwellings and industry.  He recalled the boy who had named him angel and his feeding hand itched to deal out summary judgement.  Because here, there were lives; many, many lives and some of those with black hearts whose minds declared their blackness to his questing tendrils of thought.  And perhaps there would be just a few, a very fortunate few, who would earn this green angel’s blessing.

Thanks for reading!  Find more of my stories on fanfiction.net or AO3.

https://m.fanfiction.net/u/11112812/Salchat

https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salchat

[captainkurosolaire]

Reverie of Winning

“She has a name, you bastard!”

At no chance would that sufficiently hit Shiro who was calculated always and right now as he began returning to his evil ways, mental tormenting drew satisfaction. All forms had thresholds he felt compelling and screaming other demon’s floating inside him screaming the gap of their power was tremendously in his favor. The indifference's were believed absurdly countless to count. An aetherial icy hand began molding and attempting to seal in his block. More ice surrounded Shiro’s entire frame that often was always around him in a transparent bubble. He had a certain radius that kept him clean and secure from filth and pollution. A protective aura of sorts or defined as his safe-zone. The ice that spawned forth was rapid and not in any sense logically gathered as his corruption defied his normal limits. The Captain predicted a counter only under the many battles they contested his better instincts and judgments kicked in. He followed up in his motion high-kick while allowing them to remain linked to trace behind his spine and unstrap his revolver charged with high dense explosive hollow rounds. Taking a point of aim. Shiro laughed between the true portion of this fight began shaping full-on something associated with likeness of a Voidal presence alarming around the stage of this contest. Horns and demonic runes began burning his flesh and replacing his birthed markings. “Did I hit a nerve?” Before Kuro could hit the trigger Shiro ran his finger into the barrel jamming and stuffing it with a diamond icicle shard perfectly sculpted. Causing a clogged discharge and a catastrophic boom. At the same time releasing Kuro’s leg letting the forced impact entirely boom him ever comically over to the other side of the Ruins from a discharged recoil. He ate it up. Shiro manically became more unstable like a misperformance tune on a violin string. So this is what he sacrificed and sold his every remaining piece of humane for..?                   Good riddance. This power activated only in unmatched hatred and only festered parasitical growth. Captain’s entire frame clashed into a heap of old rubble as many additional falling slid onto his downed canvas in a burial pile. Shiro began a hymn step in casualty coolness while seeking to lecture and berate his cringe of a foe. “I uncovered recently in my travels all your memories of your loved one have stripped from you too, ironic, opposing my rightful claim in trying to get mine returned. However, I’d ask what you were doing coming here for this Treasured Relic was your intentions really any far from my own? Do you really believe yourself better than me, somehow, at all? That you could forgive yourself for letting that part of you freed.  Yes… You threw all the other Stars to fall, those other so-called gems you go on about, everything and cast them aside for her sake, even abandoning the seas pledges in the pursuit of straying to whatever pact once that made you somewhat mildly amusing as a character. Though what makes your bond more important than mine? My sake is just as valued as yours! Losses of glory are always painful no matter so tell me your differences, fiend!” Long absence and pause happened on Captain’s side as he had to work much harder to catch his breathing from a hit like that. Suddenly softer pieces of rubble over-top began rolling down the pile. His hand breaking forth before shoveling himself into the landslide. Scratches, bruises, and blood already began dripping from him in disarray his eyebrow on his skin peeled back. His rigid lungs forced him to cough out the dust and debris.

As he slowly began to reclaim his posture. “Who said anything about mine is more important in comparison? I legitimately and full-hardheartedly messed up. It’s not my first-voyage or time, probably won’t be the last. I’ve been on the verge of being n’ the whole happily ever after sunset many times and I screwed them all up. There’s no blame outside my own. Look at me. I get n’ these types of injuries and situations all the time. This isn’t anything unusual, I’m a handful in every sense, sometimes, there’s more pain in that than the actual intended pleasure. Even to other Voidsents on my crew formerly, or mythical creature’s beyond mind, I can be an exhausting nightmare to even them. Ye think that’s healthy or stable or somehow certified sane? Doesn’t matter even if you’re eternal or everlasting or blessed by some creator that’s bound to taint and soil any waters. She cast me out and extended mercy on me and freed me even as I turned to the epitome of fright, a prediction she foresaw, even when I wanted to fog from reality.”

 “T’ sow these rifts like this one I can’t make my departure soured without learning. No one deserves more happiness than what Ayla gave and should have gotten or any of the recognition I lacked in providing… I’ll always have a part of me that love’s her and owe every fortune I obtain here on and out as her claim too. But In order for that to transpire reassuringly all that I formerly had in the light and was known for my fame and all my signs of openly living must forever be the shadows ownership for now. Nightmares were meant to end when eyes are opened! So... WITH THAT BEING SAID. I’ll show you who I’m fighting for in this!” He took on a charge once again reinvigorated even knowing in every sense this was futile, outclassed and outmatched. Last time he came close to defeating Shiro first-time it took him preparing and actually expecting the battle. Using Grade 2 - Wyvern-Obsidian to carve through the Diamond Ice. He didn’t have that courtesy in this encounter. The pirate wasn’t selfishly throwing these in some self-made vault or intending to use any of the trophies acquired in usage. He wanted to secure and put them into a slumber further away from the worst in his sector corner. To let them be with either their people of origins or to reside with researchers in museums or artistic wonders if they didn’t forebode troublesome damnation. Regardless to Shiro’s belief the Captain had no plans or intentions to encounter his bettered-rival here in this map and next adventure and when he did stumble across and saw with his first sight. It broke a cord inside him with a sign of sympathy and regret. Shiro believes there was no such thing as a pirate of compassion. He was wrong alongside with that whole illusion of wishing-well when someone was in a compromised and fallen mood was a ruse. It was understandable coming from the upper echelon in society, people always swindled and played the same card to merely keep a connection or contact with status closely to them. There wasn’t an entire flaw in Shiro’s jaded thoughts though there was more depth he refused. Realms were led by statistics. It’s why categorization and separation hierarchies had to exist. There was realism and there was idealism. Those that weren’t taught the exact same ways as others those so-called privileged weren’t known by the same eld textbooks or hand-me-down spew from fossilized oaks. Those that had nothing but a scrap of their own knowledge and perception crafted their own past droid teachings. Eventually, there was one part of a group line that coherently believed in all formed free. Fears of free often were doubled-sided, naturally, as one part of the definition of free could simply just mean pure anarchy and chaos an excuse for lawlessness. While another believed that any and all forms of corrupt and foul could exist no matter the origins it was all individual influenced and decided. And shouldn’t be determined until active clarity was known but over time this became a worthless fight. It was easier just to knuckle up for these arguments and drive home their value.    (Previous)  — /References/ —   ♫ ‘Black Holes’ — (Next Page)

[forgedcold]

‘Fate, the ironic bitch,’ he thinks while slumped in the captain’s chair, tired optics staring daggers through the windows of the Last Light’s bridge. A half-finished vial of engex sits neglected on the arm, Megatron too absorbed in considering how entirely disappointing the end of everything, once again, turned out to be. He survived it, for one, and by Prowl’s word, outlived Optimus. Optimus. Ugh. He presses a hand to his forehelm, dragging it down his face. Disbelief, infuriation, brokenness — Megatron didn’t care to relive the emotions that withered his spark and psyche at the knowledge of the Prime’s sacrifice; he’d ached to be executed then, to find his old enemy in whatever hell awaited them. 

It was then that Rodimus had approached him, and despite however bleak their ability to cooperate, the co-captain knew him well enough to realize the extent of his grief, urging him to go to Earth and do what he needed to say goodbye. Do it for yourself. One last hurrah. Don’t listen to Prowl. Rodimus had tried to assure him, but it was the pain and hopelessness of the Prime’s loss that served as the trigger. Forsaking his punishment and the Lost Light crew as they debated an experiment in quantum duplication, Megatron left, boarding the Last Light and quantum jumping — recklessly testing the frailty of his ship — to the periphery of the blackhole left in Unicron’s wake. 

Earth, like a star, twinkled in the distance, a glimmering survivor of his ambition. 

Megatron didn’t log the hours and days he spent staring silently and forlorn from the observation decks, watching as debris floated aimlessly around the gaping maw of the blackhole, wondering how in God’s name to reconcile such a loss; to go on without. 

It only became more despairing as weeks-old news reports from New Cybertron trickled in on the data-feeds, celebrating his purported death. The Last Light had exploded as he, warlord turned coward, tried to flee, Prowl had gloated, his mangled corpse found among the wreckage. His death certificate had become a prized trophy, signed in ceremony. With his ship’s engines not being as powerful as the Lost Light’s, no one had bothered to check for the possibility of quantum duplication, or, Prowl simply didn’t care to hear Rodimus’ explanation of ‘magic.’ 

Days later, Hubble reported the debris around the blackhole wasn’t debris and rather bodies, likely spat out by the blackhole. Perhaps it was honorable of him to decide to bury the dead, to turn Earth’s moon into a tomb for the unknown. It’d taken weeks to teleport them one-by-one to the dusty, gray rock, stinking and bloated organics and rusted mechanicals alike. 

Malicious grief seared his frame when the corpse of Optimus Prime materialized before him, his body gray and partially calcified to what he could only theorize to be what remained of Unicron’s gullet. Had he been wide-eyed, petrified, as mesh was eaten by rust, as he fossilized in a stupor of painful decay, left to die helplessly alone? ‘I am fine,’ he would have said. But the knot in his throat was too agonizing to swallow as nausea rose violently from his tanks; Megatron had to turn away to retch. 

Heaving, trembling, cold — he drew a vial of his innermost energon, turning back to his fallen enemy. “I’m sorry,” he heard himself say as he set the energon at Optimus’ feet, sinking to his knees. “I hope you found the peace I could never give you — we did not deserve you.” Numb, he watched the debris devour the vial and energon alike, the pink blood absorbing visibly through Optimus’ frame. In the silence that followed, Megatron heard the unfathomable — a sparkbeat. 

Megatron shakes his helm, letting his hand fall to his side to retrieve the lonely vial of engex and raise it to his lips, drinking it in a swallow. “Hubble, notify me when Optimus is awake. I have a feeling he won’t be pleased.”

The AI pinged its acknowledgement, the former warlord settling once more into the silence.

[redofthewestcountry]

MARCH: THE GOOD, THE BAD, THE WEIRD AND THE WONDERFUL.

Well, folks we passed level 3 of Jumanji, with just...

March

1st Mar: Former French president Nicolas Sarkozy sentenced to prison for corruption.

1st Mar: Arrests at Camp Nou for financial crimes

1st Mar: Meteor seen over UK

1st Mar: Japan asks China to stop conducting rectal covid tests on Japanese citizens

1st Mar: Perseverance Rover being controlled from flat above hairdressers in London, because Covid forced him to work from home

1st Mar: Zimbabwe Vice President resigns over voice cloning sex scandal

2nd Mar: Former Liverpool player Ian St John passes away aged 82

2nd Mar: Hundreds of kidnapped Nigerian girls released

3rd Mar: 6.2 magnitude Earthquake in Greece

3rd Mar: Thai Navy rescue four cats from burning ship

3rd Mar: Cat rescued from train roof

4th Mar: ICC opens war crimes investigation in Gaza and The West Bank

5th Mar: Illusion of ship floating in mid air photographed of Cornish Coast

5th Mar: Nun stands up against Myanmar military

6th Mar: Pope Francis meets Iraq's top Shia Cleric, in a private meeting in his home - the first between senior Christian and Muslim leaders

7th Mar: Bata, Equatorial Guinea explosions

7th Mar: Yemen migrant detention Centre fire

7th Mar: Myanmar political official dies in custody

7th Mar: Prince Harry and Meghan Markle, Oprah interview

8th Mar: German MP resigns over face mask sale, firm earned €250,000 euros from sales

8th Mar: Switzerland votes to ban religious face coverings in public

8th Mar: Syrian President and wife test positive for covid

8th March: South Africa student protests

9th Mar: Piers Morgan quits Good Morning Britain

9th Mar: UK to return £4.2 million stolen loot to Nigeria

9th Mar: Bangladesh's first transgender news reader makes debut

9th Mar: Trevor Peacock, Vicar of Dibley passes away

9th Mar: Met Police Officer arrested on suspicion of kidnap and murder of Sarah Everard

10th Mar: Tanzanian President in Kenyan hospital with Covid - asking for prayers and herbal infused steam therapy

10th Mar: Myanmar police defecting to India after orders from military to shoot protesters

10th Mar: Second ship floating in mid air illusion photographed off British coast

10th Mar: Police, Crime, Sentencing and Courts Bill 2021 - protest powers outlined

11th Mar: 13 killed in Nigerian school attack

11th Mar: Egyptian clothing factory fire

11th Mar: Ivorian Coast PM dies in German hospital

11th Mar: China approves plans to control Hong Kong elections

11th Mar: Lou Ottens, inventor of the cassette tape dies aged 94

11th Mar: EU declared LGBT Freedom Zone

12th Mar: George Floyd family given $27 million settlement prior to murder trial

13th Mar: Met Police officer charged with kidnap and murder of Sarah Everard

13th Mar: Spanish police seize home made submarine in drugs raid

13th Mar: Amazon announces refusal to sell books that frame sexual identity as mental illness

14th Mar: Spanish police arrest biggest cocaine gang in Madrid

14th Mar: Minibus carrying Argentine President attacked by anti open pit mining protests

14th Mar: Women detained at vigil for Sarah Everard

15th Mar: Australian sexual assault protests

15th Mar: Beijing sandstorm

15th Mar: Niger-Mali border attacks

16th Mar: Dinamo Zagreb manager given five year jail sentence for fraud

16th Mar: Bulgarian Police seize millions in counterfeit during operation with US

16th Mar: Rare ancient scroll, circa 2nd century a.d. found in Isreal Cave of Horror

16th Mar: Atalanta massage parlour shootings

17th Mar: Japan finds same sex marriage ban unconstitutional

17th Mar: Sabine Schmidtz passes away aged 51

17th Mar: Iceland records fifty thousand earthquakes in three weeks

17th Mar: Reddit investors adopt 3,500 gorillas in six days

17th Mar: First Sound recording of a Mars rover driving released by Nasa

18th Mar: Man arrested outside Kamala Harris' residence with rifle and ammunition

19th Mar: Salia Suluhu Hassan becomes first female Tanzanian President

19th Mar: 2,500 year old bull figurine found at ancient site of Olympia

19th Mar: Drugs worth over a million euros seized by French police turned out to be ground up strawberry haribo

20th Mar: Turkey withdraws from Istanbul convention to combat violence against women

21st Mar: Australia sees worst flooding in sixty years

21st Mar: 'Kill the Bill' protests turn violent in Bristol

22nd Mar: BBC and Sky announce deal to broadcast live women's football

22nd Mar: Boulder, Colarado ten killed in mass shooting, seventh in seven days in US

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[darksunrising]

Sola Gratia (3/?)

Masterlist

Rating / Warnings : General Audiences, no warning.

Fandom : Bram Stoker’s Dracula, BBC’s Dracula, various Dracula and vampire lore.

Part 3/? (2262 words)

Author’s notes : Eris starts to explore, and starts to understand castle and Count both hold some mysteries she is not sure she wants to resolve.

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My eyes fluttered open, and it took me a second to make sense of my surroundings. Sitting up with some difficulty, the soft mattress seemingly trying to keep me in, I set the covers aside, and threw my legs over the edge of the bed. The room was bathed in a strange light, almost green, and if the rain had stopped, the sky was still low with bulging clouds, threatening to burst open at any moment. The fire in the hearth had died out, only leaving a few red coals to shimmer softly.

I changed back into my new outfit. My usual clothes might have dried out overnight, but I had to admit I really loved the skirt. It had pockets, for hell’s sake. I had no idea what time it was, the dark skies making it impossible to assess the position of the sun. I figured if I were going to do anything, I might as well go check on the damage in my bag, which I decided to forget about last night. I left the room, trying to find my way back to the main hall. After a few hesitations and turnbacks, I finally found the main stairs, and reached my bag, still sitting near the door. As I feared, most of everything was soaked, even the food I’d taken with me. Had to throw that out, at some point. I found my phone, that I had miraculously put in a waterproof case. Still working, though on concerningly low battery, and had no signal. I sighed, and set it to extreme batter saver mode, hoping it would last until I could get back to civilisation.

I grabbed my remaining clothes to have them dry with the rest, and went to the dining room. There, the fire was still going strong, with a couple of fresh logs. At the end of the large banquet table, I was surprised to see a steaming pot of tea, and a plate of something close to scones, I believe. It was accompanied by a sheet of thick, high quality paper, folded in half to stand on its own, marked with my name in a neat, graceful handwriting.

“Dear Eris, I expect you had a pleasant sleep. I have left for the most of the day, and will certainly not return before dark. Please enjoy some breakfast, as you must surely be famished. Feel free to explore should you wish it, as I have left the keys for you along with this letter. I hope you will forgive me for my absence, and trust you will find the means for distraction. Your devoted host, Count Vlad Balaur.”

As I read the letter in a half hushed voice, warmth spread across my chest as I finished on his name. A glance at the table confirmed the presence of said keys. If I had to fumble through all of them every time I wanted to open a door, exploring just might take the whole day after all. I slipped them, along with the letter, in my pocket, and poured me a cup of tea. It was a different blend, black, yet flowery and soft. Perfectly well infused. The scones seemed to be fresh out of the oven, which made me wonder if he baked them himself, or had staff. I didn’t see anyone last night, but then again, it was late. If he was as rich as his house suggested, he just might. I figured I would look out for them. If anything, I had to compliment the chef. I don’t know if it was because I hadn’t eaten since yesterday at lunch, but eating these scones felt somewhat close to a religious experience.

After I became physically unable to eat any more, I decided to follow the Count’s idea, and explore. The castle was old, that much I could tell. I wasn’t an expert on architecture, but I was more or less convinced that the most ancient phase of construction had to be around the 13th, 14th century. The village probably built itself around it, so that would make some sense. Obviously, it had been updated, rebuilt, but the main structure was still visible. A lot of the rooms seemed almost… Stuck in time. A bit messy, crowded, as if the people who last left could come back any moment. Even so, the thick layer of dust dulling the colors made it clear that wasn’t going to happen.

I couldn’t help but feel some nostalgia. 15-year-old me would have been thrilled exploring a place like this. Not that I wasn’t, but at that time, I was so into urban exploration that I almost got dragged to the station a couple of times for tresspassing. My parents never knew, and just thinking of their reaction if they ever had had to go bail me out of jail for being a bastard goblin made me go into hysterics. Couldn’t help but picture my father, stilted up into some sad brown corduroy suit, mouth pinched in a lip-less line, having to pick up a ratty kid who just could not, would not, keep her grubby hands out of dangerous, rat infested abandonned houses. Or shut down psych wards, that one time. Pretty anti-climatic, that was. 

I stifled a laughter, and shut the door behind me. Most of the rooms were boudoirs, spare bedrooms and such. There was one large room, covered in hunting trophies and animal skeletons. This one interested me the most. Inside, I noticed it was close to a cabinet of curiosities. Glass and wood shelves hosted a variety of skeletons, egg and sea shells, fossils, even some weirdly misshapen baby animals, floating in yellowed jars. The taxidermied animals seemed almost real, and at any moment, I expected them to start moving around. One shelf, built along the whole length of a wall, was dedicated to various skulls, ranging from standard game, elks, boars and whatnot, to more exotic things. One in particular caught my eye. At first glance, I thought it might be human, but I was very quick to change my mind.

The skull seemed fine, strong jaw still attached to the cranium, even a bit of mummifies tissue still attached in some spaces. However, the teeth… The teeth made no sense. Too many, too sharp, like they had been filed into curved, pointy shapes you only see in great apes, or carnivorous animals. Reviewing every strange cultural rite that could explain such a bizarre thing, I started to feel more and more uneasy. I almost felt like it was staring at me from the shadows, behind the hollow eye sockets. Not necessarily wanting to linger any more, I slipped out of the room, and locked the door after a few tries. Just to be sure, you know.

I had visited most of the rooms, but still one was pinching my curiosity. If I understood right, I could see its windows from those of the corridor leading to the dining room. Tall windows, almost church-like. I passed its door a few times, but was never able to find the key that unlocked it. The mind works like it works, and by the thrid time, I was almost ready to find a way to pick the lock, or break it down. Frustrated as ever, I gave a kick to the frame, that made me repress a cry of pain.

“Well now, what has that poor door done to deserve this ?”

I nearly jumped at the sound of the Count’s voice. He was standing behind me, a manner which seemed to have become a habit on his part.

“It was resisting my best attempts to pierce it’s secrets, which is a grave offense in my book”, I replied.

“Ah, I am afraid it was entirely my fault”, he admitted, and produced a key from his pocket, twisting it between his long, slender fingers.

A mischievous smile playing on his lips, he unlocked the double doors, and pushed them open, dramatically turning back to face me, his coat flaring around him, arms open.

“Welcome to my library.”

The room was filled with the last rays of the sun, setting on the mountain ridge, under the clouds. It caught the dust the Count must have raised as he entered in golden specs, floating up all around him. Everywhere, bookshelves stretched out up to the high ceilings, accessible by ladders and small bridgeways. The floor was covered in richly woven carpets, and at every comfortable corner sat armchairs and reading tables, agremented with chandeliers. There had to be a lifetime’s worth of reading within these four walls, and for a moment, I was unable to even walk in.

As I finally regained control of my limbs, I stubled inside, jogging to the nearest shelf. Leather-bound books, stacks of rolled parchment, gilted, worn, intricate, small, large, I didn’t even know where to look first. There were so many different languages, I couldn’t even recognize half. I let my fingers trail along the backs of the volumes, deciding on which to pick first.

“Do you like it ?”, the Count softly asked, as if not to disturb my frantic search.

I turned towards him, unable to stop smiling. He looked almost surprised, almost moved. The sun caught his eyes, revealing their deep blue color. I noticed his hair was now dark as night, cascading on his shoulders. Not a single gray hair in sight. He looked almost exactly like his portrait in the dining room, now that I thought about it. He must have noticed my internal trouble.

“Is there something wrong ?”, he asked, stepping closer to me.

“Nothing”, I replied, shaking my head. “You seem to be… Well, for lack of better terms, younger than yesterday.”

“Ah, a bruise to my ego !”, he exclaimed as he carried a hand to his heart. “I know I have left my younger days behind, but I have yet to be an old man.”

It had been a dark, stormy night, and I figured that by candlelight, my mind could have played tricks on me. Maybe I had been expecting a lonely old man so much, that he appeared that way, in my slightly frostbitten mind. I decidedly turned my attention to the shelves, and picked a volume. A bit worn, but the dark green of the leather, and the tiny golden patterns still vivid on the spine. As I read the title, it had me laughing to myself. Ὀδύσσεια, Homer’s Odyssey, in the “original” speech.

“Do you read ancient greek ?”, the Count asked, now looking over my shoulder.

“I have had the misfortune of learning it. Since then, I fell out of practice, I think.”

I turned over the pages, the familiar words coming back to mind without having to really read them. It was with this story, and the Illiad, that my parents taught me. I knew them almost by heart at that point. His tall silhouette, behind me, felt almost protective. I was nearly tempted to let myself lean back against his chest. I could feel soft strands of hair brushing past my shoulder, making a shiver run down my spine.

“Are you cold ?”, he asked. “I am afraid these walls tend to not hold the heat very well. I could have a fire lit here, if you want.”

His tone was almost tender, concerned. I had no time to answer, before I heard the rustling of fabric, and felt the weight of his coat placed over my shoulders. His hands lightly slid down my arms, flattening the soft, tightly woven wool over me. The sudden warmth did nothing for my shivering, and I nervously turned another page. My finger slipped on the edge, which cut right through the soft skin.

I cursed under my breath, watching red bead at the cut, and run toward my palm. The hands of the Count, still over my shoulders, suddenly gripped them tight, almost enough to hurt me. I could swear I heard a growl from deep inside his chest. He took my hand in his, examining the wound. A slow stream of red came trickling down his own fingers. He was leaning closer to me, so much that I could feel his breathing on the nape of my neck, heavy, trembling.

“You should be more careful”, he told me, his voice barely more than a whisper, deep, and dark.

I turned back, freeing myself of his grip, and tried to step away. My back hit the shelves, my injured hand held up to my chest, the other still holding the book so tight my knuckles went white. He once again took my hand, this time holding a cloth to the cut, red slowly seeping into the white cotton. He kept his eyes riveted to the makeshift band-aid. They didn’t seem so blue anymore. He took a deep breath, which sounded almost like a snarl as he let it out. He whispered something in romanian I couldn’t make out, let go, and suddenly, he was gone. Leaving me breathless, confused, holding the now mostly red cotton square to my hand. The edges of the shelf dug into my back. I inhaled sharply, as if I’d been holding my breath the entire time, which could easily have been the case.

I closed the book, and slipped it back onto the shelf. The library was silent, if it weren’t for the faint sound of a crackling fire, in the hearth.

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