#radioactive-violet

[science-bastard]

laser beam red… bunsen burner orange… caution tape yellow… toxic sludge green… cherenkov radiation blue… cresyl violet… phenolphthalein pink… you see where i’m going with this?

[swattus]

Shiny Eternatus beloved! The new model is great but I juuuust wish it was… more red?? Leg-end doesn’t look the same in this game.

[jokerislandgirl32]

I really am radioactive right now because of a medical test, so this fits…But hey the test was negative, so all is good!

Zach: “What do you mean you’re radioactive? Stay away from me!”

Me/Violet: “I just can’t go hugging children or expecting mothers for the next day, you’re fine!”

Zach: “Well…I’m like your child!”

Me/Violet: “Yeah…yeah you are…”

[msb-lair]

Clutch #3603 - Paline/Palis

Mated On: 2024-06-05 # of eggs: 4 Hatched On: 2024-06-10

Progeny:

Hatchling 9582 (Paula) - Dusthide Female, Stone Varnish/Peridot Spire/Phthalo Greenskeeper, Uncommon - 15,000 on 2024-06-24

Hatchling 9583 (Buru) - Dusthide Male, Taupe Strike/Leaf Spire/Violet Greenskeeper, Common - 15 gems on 2024-08-12

Hatchling 9584 (Bloom) - Dusthide Female, Stone Strike/Jungle Spire/Seafoam Greenskeeper, Unusual - 50,000 on 2024-06-15

Hatchling 9585 - Dusthide Female, Driftwood Varnish/Radioactive Spire/Ultramarine Greenskeeper, Rare - 15 gems on 2024-07-30

Comments: First clutch for these two since I changed Paline from veil to greenskeeper, and the hatchlings all came out with the new gene - thanks, RNG!

[buddyemils]

tinier than usual cb art dump sighs sorry was in the middle of changing my artstyle and having y2636739 other hyperfixations

sleepover stargoth for the fan server art challange prompt thats not fully colored and i dont want to color it anymore

nurse deacon that was punko requested! and a mymelody ahh chase sorry it was really random

then people were talking abt a violet in a suit and i couldnt resist the doodles

my keysona/key oc rhennie!! made of rhenium which is slightly radioactive!! theyre like a scare factor spectator key heh giving you that creepy crawly feeling of beimg watched while walking through the woods type shi

what if chase and budmeister had a hairstyle switch? well look no further, a lackluster doodle is here!

and dumb ahh doodles absbhdn thank yew

[kamaluhkhan]

I CAN STILL CHANGE THE END (spider-woman!vi x spider-woman!reader)

LET'S DO THINGS DIFFERENTLY THIS TIME....her name is violet lanes. she was bitten by a radioactive spider and for the past 10 years, she's been the one and only ghost-spider spider-woman ! she joined a band, saved the city, fell in love, saved the city again, graduated college, argued with her sister (teenagers are the worst), moved in with her girlfriend in hopes of saving their relationship, got into grad school, broke her leg (do not text and swing, regardless of how late you are for an anniversary dinner), saved the city some more, maybe too much, but couldn't save the love of her life.

no matter how many hits she takes, no matter how much guilt she carries, vi always, always, gets back up, even if it's hard to keep fighting when she's lost so much.

and.....she's not the only one.

(spoiler alert: you're the one and only spider-woman until an alternate version of your dead ex-girlfriend crashes a double date and introduces you to the chaos of the multiverse.... and maybe reintroduces the possibility of a happy ending, however doomed it may be.)

i. mercury in retrograde — violet lanes adjusts to a different reality; a new team of supervillains wreaks havoc around new york; and you just really need a nap, honestly, but you have a thesis to write, a city to protect, and a ghost-spider to deal with.

ii. agent of chaos, angel of death — you and vi start to appreciate not having to shoulder the responsibility of spider-woman alone. hoping to find her a way back home, the two of you visit oscorp and make some sinister discoveries; mj agrees to let vi fill in as the band’s drummer, but your show is cut short by unwanted guests; and you’re once again faced with the reality that you can’t save everyone.

iii. in the web that is our own, we begin again — in every other universe, violet lanes falls for spider-woman. it never ends well. but, there’s a first time for everything, right? you and vi indulge in fantasies of what your lives would have been if you met under different circumstances; the two of you save the multiverse before harry osborn can make his daddy issues everyone’s problem; and an inevitable goodbye isn’t as final as it may seem.

[ducksido]

Haii!!!! I have an EVIL request😈😈😈😈😈 okay imagine rook with a color blind reader, who is constantly arguing that the color they see is the right one, reader refuses to believe that his hair is blond, or that his dorm uniform is purple (reader sees colors inverted so black is white and red is green type)😝😝😝😝 so basically it would just be reader arguing with rook that the pillow or whatever they are holding up is NOT purple and in fact YELLOW and rook is like « wow Mon amour the way u see the world is a fascinating mystery but I regret to inform u that the pillow is in fact magenta » and readers like « NUH HUH »

Yayayayayayayayayayayayayayayayayaya

(EVIL REQUEST ACCEPTED EVILLY 😈)

It started with the pillow.

You had it clutched dramatically in both hands, shaking it in front of Rook's face with the passion of a revolutionary. It was not purple. It had never been purple. It was YELLOW. As bright as a lemon on a hot summer day.

Yet here stood the absolute madman across from you, smiling serenely as if you’d just handed him a flower and not a declaration of WAR.

“Mon trésor,” Rook said, eyes shining with awe and amusement. “That pillow is magenta.”

“NO IT ISN’T,” you shouted, scandalized. “You are LYING. That’s yellow. Like. Sunflower yellow. Corn-on-the-cob yellow. Pikachu yellow!”

“Non, non, non~” he chimed musically, stepping closer like he was inspecting a rare bird. “Magenta. A rich, flamboyant hue like the final flourish in a ballet! C’est magnifique!”

You stared at him. HARD. “You mean to tell me. You actually think this... sunshine-colored marshmallow of a pillow... is magenta.”

“But of course!” Rook grinned. “I suspect this is like the time you insisted my hair was green.”

“Because it IS,” you said, offended. “Like, the green you see on fake Christmas trees. Or, like, radioactive lettuce.”

“Blond, mon ange. It is the color of fields kissed by the golden sun!”

You clutched your head like you were losing your mind. “Golden sun?? What sun is green, Rook??” You pointed accusingly. “You are gaslighting me!”

“I promise, I am not trying to deceive you,” he said, looking genuinely delighted. “You simply see the world differently! You once claimed my dorm uniform was a ‘horrific shade of neon lime’—but as it happens, it is a royal violet.”

“And I stand by that,” you said, crossing your arms. “Your whole dorm looks like a pack of mint gum. But like. Fancy villain mint gum.”

“I must admit, the poetry in your perception is unlike anything I have ever known,” Rook sighed dreamily. “To live in your world must be like seeing through an enchanted mirror.”

“Yeah, a mirror that lies to me constantly.”

You both stared at the pillow again.

“…It’s so yellow, though,” you whispered.

“It’s so magenta,” Rook whispered back, just as reverently.

You let out a groan and flopped back on the bed, clutching the offensive pillow to your chest. “You’re lucky I’m cute.”

“I am blessed that you are cute and mysterious,” Rook said, placing a dramatic hand over his heart. “Every day with you is a new discovery! Who knew a disagreement about color could be so thrilling?”

“You’re just happy you get to say fancy words and stare at me like I’m a puzzle.”

“But you are a puzzle,” he said lovingly. “And I shall dedicate my life to solving you.”

“…Even if I never agree that this is purple?”

Rook smiled and kissed the top of your head. “Even then.”

(You still think the pillow is yellow, though.)

[verysium]

blue lock boys as assassins (au i guess?), i hope you could include Oli, Yuki and Barou!

anon you have me at crossroads because the very idea of an assassin AU spawns an infinite glitch of possibilities....🤔 like mafia underground syndicate assassin? or like solitary mysterious hitman type of assassin? or even better could this be ninja/shinobi stealth warrior assassin? i'm going give a general description though:

oliver is the laid-back good guy. escorts you to the bar, drinks on him. claps every passerby on the back as if he personally knows them. you think he's alright. not too handsome and just the right amount of ruggedness. he offers you a good time, so you two hit off for the night. and that's where everything starts to go downhill. one shoot-out, intense knife fight, and grueling police chase later, you pant for dear life against the side of a brick wall in some torn up alley because it turns out your one-night stand was actually an assassin for japan's largest underground syndicate.

you grip your broken heel tightly in one hand, body collapsed against the brick cornerstone as you seethe, the condensation of your gasping breath forming tendrils in the cold night. you reach up a hand to wipe the sweat off your face. it comes back red, the meticulous hours of applying your makeup wasted when you see the damning smears of lipstick. this was not the type of fun you signed up for on a friday night.

"oliver, what the fuck was that?"

he laughs sheepishly, cocking his gun back with ease before he lights up a cigarette, palm cupping the flame. he turns, then walks over two bodies without blinking, suede shoes clicking against the cobblestone. you're angry at him, but he doesn't care, wrapping an arm around your waist, nose buried in your hair.

"just a side hustle, sweetheart. come on, let's get you home."

yukimiya is the sweet, unassuming literature student. he came home from university to help his grandmother out over the summer, manning the front counter of her antique oddities shop. you like him. he's awkwardly charming, a little too zealous for the job, but still endearingly kooky. you have him pinned down as the sad poet type. the kind of person who wears the same knitted cardigan every day, complete with horn-rimmed glasses and 1940's gingham elbow patches. he can handwrite a sonnet in less than a minute, gift-wrap your purchases in record time. you let him buzz around you while you make your daily visit to his shop, listening to him talk about the collections of radioactive glassware, the vintage phonograph in the corner, and the rare edition of Gutenberg bibles sitting silently in the old book section.

"you know, you really don't have to do that."

he peers up at you owlishly, dark brow furrowed before you point out the spool of twine in his hand, the way he's carefully folding the newspaper around the edges of the new vase you purchased. he laughs, shrugging off your concerns with a wave. you catch a brief whiff of his cologne, the subtle scent of mint and toluene. maybe a hint of vanillin too.

"don't worry about it miss! gift-wrapping is a free service. i'll even add two complimentary trinkets if you'd like. we have a clearance section that's been slow to sell. you could even take a few for free."

"i'm alright. thanks for the offer though." he nods, fingers delicately tying a bow before he places your vase in a bag, fluffing up the tissue paper on top. you smile to yourself when you see the intricate lettering of the card he snuck in. must've been another one of the love poems he wrote. you know how the saying goes.

roses are red. violets are blue.

by the time you step out the shop, the door chime twinkles in the distance, a peal of bells to signal your departure. from behind the windows and glass paneling, he watches your figure trail down the sidewalk, winter coat fluttering in the wind. his eyes darken beneath the tortoiseshell frame, finger moving down the yellowed pages of his accounting book before crossing off another name. he doesn't even look up when he hears the loud honking and screams, the sound of a body hitting the pavement.

one is dead, and so are you.

barou is probably the most obvious one. very upfront about the work he does. the only caveat is that you can never trace his work back to him. he cleans up way too well. always shoots his targets through the eye because it's less of a mess that way. leaves absolutely no evidence at the murder scene. i picture you as one of the unfortunate victims caught up in the fray. collateral damage, as he likes to call it.

"you know, i've never met someone so equally stubborn and stupid."

you glare at him, throat sore and aching as you scream through your gag, cursing him out in every language in existence. he merely stares down at you, arms crossed and eyebrow arched in amusement. you struggle for a good minute, flopping around like a fish as you try to free yourself from your bonds. how the hell do you go from taking an errand trip to the grocery store to getting kidnapped and tied up in a man's trunk?

"what's that? couldn't hear you from all the noise."

god, you want to strangle him. you heave a breath, swallowing the bitter taste of your own spit when he finally unties the gag, your lungs gasping for air.

"i said...you think i'm the stupid one? you're the one who tied me up!"

"because you wouldn't stop squealing like a pig."

"you were trying to kill me!" he snorts derisively at your comment, his red eyes piercing and haughty. the loud thump of the trunk door closing reverberates throughout the parking garage before you find yourself face first on the pavement, body dumped unceremoniously on the ground. he looks down at you dismissively, wiping the dust off his hands.

"nah, i'd save myself the hassle."

your eyebrow twitches in irritation, jaw dropping at that violation. oh, it was personal now. he deserved capital punishment. strangling would be too merciful. you try to get back on your feet, a task that proves all the more difficult with your legs bound and arms twisted behind your back. he merely waits, as if knowing when you'd finally give up, sinking at his feet in defeat.

"you done?" you nod your head, slumping down into the concrete. your voice becomes small and sheepish by the time you raise your face to look at him.

"can't you just...let me go? i promise i won't say anything." he rolls his eyes, swinging you over his shoulder in one fell swoop, locking the car with a resounding beep. you start to panic when you feel him carrying you to the garage exit, vision swirling with nothing but concrete and the solid sound of his combat boots.

"wait....wait! i swear to god! please just let me go. i won't tell a soul."

"nope. can't have any witnesses." you feel a handkerchief come up at engulf your nose and mouth, the sweet smell cloying and sharp. you start to squirm in his arms.

"wait! no...please! if you touch me again, i'll scream." his grin is the last thing you see in the darkness, sharp canines brushing against the shell of your ear.

"oh, you'll do so much more than scream, darling."

[d1ana-m0nd]

╭─► ❝Love me or Hate me❞

Earth 42! Miles Morales × Female! Reader || Written by Diana (d1ana-m0nd)

➢ Description : Spider-Nox is a promising spiderwoman. It's believed that she was destined to protect and save people. However, like how every Spiderman stories goes, a tragic accident occurs which led to the death of her best friend’s father. Struggling with the guilt, the weight of her mistake, unable to bear the pain and the feeling of an outcast in the very city she swore to protect, she chooses isolation as her only path to redemption.

➢ Word Count : 523

➢ Link : Masterlist

Character Profile | Hello my Name is...

Alright people, let’s do this quickly! ⁠(⁠°⁠o⁠°⁠)⁠／

Hello my name is Y/N Libitinarius, the spiderwoman of Earth 42.

Now, most spider-person would say they were bitten by a radioactive spider. Well… For my case, my ass of an uncle, Dwade Konraddo, injected me with a serum of a genetically modified radioactive spider-nox; The serum has given me powers and turned me into a spider-mutant.

Thankfully I retained my cuteness. (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

Though I have huge fangs now and don't worry they are retractable, they kinda make me look like an oni. Unfortunately, my hands until my forearm turned black - like black as coal - with red roots that ran along my arms. Which is mostly the reason why I struggled to choose an outfit that would hide my mutation.

Oddly enough, despite being bitten by a radioactive spider, I didn't retain most of a spider's abilities. I can't stick to walls nor hang upside down and I can't shoot spider webs nor produce any because my touch accelerates their decaying process.

In spite of that, I do have other cool abilities: As stated, my touch can take away life force (only applicable to organic species) or accelerate decaying process (only applicable to by-product of organic species), I can cause hallucinations with my spit, and instead of sprinting I submerge into the ground when sprinting.

I can already guess what you are gonna say, (⁠ ⁠´⁠◡⁠‿⁠ゝ⁠◡⁠`⁠) "I don't think regular spiders have those abilities…"

You're right! They don't, at least most spiders don't have these abilities but, a species called spider-nox are a different breed. The spider-nox that was injected into my body are lab made spiders that are meant to recreate a prehistoric version of the spider-nox, key word recreate, so most of the abilities are not true to the original species ability, just a copy or it is somewhat similar to it's ability.

Moving on with my superhero duties. I’m pretty sure you know the rest, I save the city just like the others, though I do my hero work by night and in the shadows. Though I mostly do the work as a nameless vigilante because I don’t want to garner attention, it seemed like journalists seemed determined to catch me in action which I narrowly avoided. Though people of New York began to dub me as the "Lurker" - Pretty corny nickname if you ask me but, that's what they went along with so eh… and it's pretty much my fault for not making a superhero name before the public began making random nicknames for me.

Oh yeah! For the last 4 years I thought I was the one and only spiderwoman.

Until, I met Miguel O'Hara, Spiderman 2099. I discovered that I wasn't the only weirdo and I could go to different universes…

At first, I wasn't planning to join their "Spider Society" but, I figured I would be able to extract my powers if I were to venture to other universes. In the end, I only fell into their hands because all they wanted was to monitor me because they dubbed me as an anomaly.

➢ Taglist :

➢ Note : If your username is highlighted violet that means I cannot tag your blog. I suggest you either follow my blog and turn on your notifications or you turn on your subscription to the masterlist. The animated divider is made by @/cafekitsune. [ EXAMPLE ]

[ford-between-dimensions]

Fact Archive:

Fact of the day: Identical twins don't have the same fingerprints.

Fact of the day: One teaspoon of neutron star weighs the same as the human population.

Fact of the day: Your brain has around 100 billion nerve cells.

Fact of the day: Penicillin was first called “mold juice.”

Fact of the day: There are more trees on the planet than stars in our galaxy (estimated 3 trillion trees, 400 billion stars)

Fact of the day: A lightning strike can reach 54,000 degrees Fahrenheit.

Fact of the day: The sun’s volume could fit 1 million Earths.

Fact of the day: Aluminum is the most abundant metal on Earth.

Fact of the day: Ketchup was used medicinally in the early 1800s.

Fact of the day: Blah blah blah, nerd statistics. You get the gist.

BILL Fact of the day: 100% of possessions end in possession! Triangle-guaranteed!

BILL Fact of the day: Still reading this? Wow, you freaks really have nothing better to waste your short, insignificant lives on. Guess I'll make it worth your time just this once, since I'm feeling generous: December 13th, 2041. Let's say around 6:13 PM. Might wanna watch where you're walking in the dark. Just some friendly advice between us pals. Don't sweat it.

Fact of the day: Cryptophasia is the official term for the languages twins use that only they can understand.

Fact of the day: The Bermuda Triangle is known as the “Shipwreck Capital of the Atlantic” with over 300 documented shipwrecks.

Fact of the day: The word “zodiac” comes from a Greek term for "circle of figures" or "circle of life".

Fact of the week: The only letter not found in the periodic table is “J”.

Fact of the week: Pioneering radioactivity researcher Marie Curie’s notebooks are still slightly radioactive today

Fact of the week: Because red grabs attention, it’s used to warn people of danger. That’s why it’s on stop signs, traffic lights and fire engines.

Fact of the week: Red light has the longest wavelength on the visible color spectrum, though violet has the shortest.

[jackhkeynes]

Chemical Etymology

excerpts in translation on word origins in chemistry from the Rotcham Veriloquy, the premier etymological dictionary of Merch. It has been published in several editions since the late nineteenth century via the press of the university of Rotcham [Rochdale].

moron n. /ˈmɔː.ɾɔn/ [proton] a deficient [positively charged] particle as found in atomic nuxes [nuclei]. 1888 < Kew [Kyiv] Russian мора · mora (1882) < Ancient Greek μόρον · móron "mulberry, blackberry", in reference to Nike Sarantylack's "mulberry model" of the atom as containing a number of each of two different sorts of particle.

lucifer adj., n. /ˈləu.sɪ.fə/ [radioactive (substance)] of a substance, spontaneously producing subatomic particles or ionising light; such a substance. 1894 < Vascon lucifer < Latin lūcifer "light-bringing", from lūx "light" and -fer "carrying". Connected only incidentally with proper noun Lucifer "Satan".

killdark n. /ˈkɪl.daːk/ [uranium] the corporal [element] whose atoms have 92 mora, a lucifer [radioactive] grey metal. 1810 < Welsh kildárc "killdark" (1805) < the Irish shire of Killdara, where the corporal was first isolated. Plausibly respelt after "dark"; the Wessern English form darick /ˈda.ɾək/ "dark" may also have played a role.

lix n. /lɪks/ [potassium] the corporal whose atoms have 19 mora, a soft grey metal acted on by air and water and thus never found in tesquo [in nature] as a metal. 1797 < Latin lixa "lye", which is the caustic of lix [potassium hydroxide].

janthine n. /ˈdʒan.θəin/ [iodine] the corporal whose atoms have 53 mora, found as a grey solid, a purple-black liquid and a purple gas. 1791 < Scholastic Latin janthīnus < Ancient Greek ἰάνθῐνος · iánthinos "violet-coloured".

[vi050iv]

Spidersona incoming!!

Meet Victor Ortiz!! Also known as Earth 426’s the Violet Spider🕷️ Vic was mutated by a radioactive Mexican Jade Fuego Tarantula (and his suit is inspired by it’s vibrant coloration as well as the neon vibes of Retrowave~✨) There are still some more spidey doodles to come (some lore, allies and villain concepts that I’m still working on)

[gothams-night-spider]

Ooc intro post:

(I think I’m gonna do an ooc and an ic one, this one will be ooc)

Night spider

- Spidersona, one of three I’ve made but the only I have an account for

- Violet Mae Benoit | V or Vi

- May 13th 2012 | 12

- native gothamite, lives in tricorner (same place Jim Gordon lives for reference)

- 5,0 | brown eyes | purple hair

- she became a spider after being bit by a radioactive spider (the usual), from ace chemical

- her parents died when she was 9 in an accent labeled as “collateral damage” which is why she wanted to become a vigilante, to be able to keep civilians safe

- she was put into foster care after her parents died, however she ran away after a year and ended up living on the streets

- as of right now she’s just trying to help out where she can, while also not ending up dead herself

- I am a minor and Violet is a minor, don’t be weird.

- NO BATCEST. Especially because this is a blog for one of the bats, I don't care how you rationalize it, I don't want to see BruceXDick, DickXJason, DickXTim, or anything else.

- don't ship adults and minors!

- no proships in general

- no homophobia

- no transphobia

- no racism

- no Zionism

If you agree with any of those things please just block me or leave now to make things easier on the both of us, if not then feel free to stick around!

I'm online a lot and pretty much everything on here is going to be open ended

List of my other blogs: @sokoneedsagun (main) @bludhavens-finest @dr-pamela-isley @cassandra-e-sandsmark @average-exasperated-gothamite @adeline-lynn

[gainstrive]

more gen ones up for sale, 500 gems each! buyers are welcome to transfer the art to other dragons as well as color the lines if theyd like.

1 - bronze radioactive algae

2 - chartreuse ruby bronze

3 - red maize eggplant

4 - violet cinnamon lavender

[chronicallylatetotheparty]

Perfect Paradise Ch.28: I'm Your Future Past and Present, I'm the Fine Line

Summary: ... I am not really here. I'm an Intrusion.

---------------------------

Emma stared up at a red sun in a red-orange sky. The alien colors brightening to yellow as the firmament neared the mountainous horizon.

'Keep up!' Morgana called as she walked down the mountain slope.

The desire to not be left alone under an alien sky kicked Emma into a run. 'Where are we?'

'The Valley of Juru on the continent of Lurvan, southern hemisphere of the planet Krypton, orbiting the sun Rao.'

Emma stopped dead in her tracks as she stared after Morgana, who kept going. "... What the actual fuck?" she exclaimed aloud, hurrying to catch up.

Morgana laughed.

'How can we breath?'

'That's a myth. The air might be less oxygen rich but Krypton's atmosphere is perfectly breathable.'

Now that Morgana mentioned it Emma was a bit lightheaded. Her body heavy under the greater gravity of this dense world... Which was exactly what you wanted scurrying past the edge of a cliff. Sure it was a short cliff but her bones wouldn't refuse to break over a little thing like that.

'Why are we on Krypton? How are we on Krypton? Isn't it supposed to be a cloud of highly radioactive space debris?'

'Well it's still highly radioactive,' Morgana pointed out.

Even with Krypton's multiple magnetospheres and dense atmosphere the periodic solar flares of the red dwarf star left the planet's surface with a higher background radiation than Earth standard.

Emma remembered all this from school and was not in the least reassured. 'Oh, great!'

'Relax, Emma. We are only here as observers.'

'The pebble in my shoe says otherwise.'

'Yes, you are very present aren't you?' Morgana gave her that knowing look again. 'Try distancing yourself for a moment.'

Emma closed her eyes and for a disorienting second she was in two places at once. Back on the roof of a Parisian arcology and standing on the mountainside of a dead world. She shuddered then opened her eyes.

The pebble was gone and her body felt lighter but the ground was still solid under her feet. And she could smell the fields of alien crops on the wind. An earthy, familiar smell despite the cold wind and violet plants.

Juru was a large valley, it's distant edge invisible in the morning mist. The land around the central river was dedicated to agriculture while the mountain slopes were left forested. In the center of the valley was a city unlike any Kryptonian architecture Emma had ever seen.

School showed her great spires of shining metal and deep artificial chasms of living crystal. But the city of Juru was so old it was made of painted stone. Murals showing gods and myths not taught by the priests of Rao. It's pyramidal shapes weren't temples or tombs like they would be on Earth. A ziggurat may have storehouses at the base; homes and shops in the middle levels; and shrines, schools or public gardens at the top. Complete with running water. Bridges and canals giving the city a three dimensional feel.

As they came closer Emma saw why: the people of Juru were flying. Not with Kryptonian hovercrafts but under their own power.

'How?'

'Look closer.'

A girl roughly Emma's age stepped onto the ledge of one of the bridges. Her clothes had no House crest though they were as fine as any of the Great Houses Emma had seen in the history vids.

The girl clapped her hands together and held them as if in prayer. Then turned her left palm so the fingers pointed down while the right remained pointing up. She separated her hands and Emma covered her eyes as a sun bloomed in the space between them.

Then the light was gone and the girl was flying.

Emma felt goosebumps over her skin.

'These are the Wizards of Juru, Emma,' Morgan's thoughts were gentle. 'The last bastion of magic on Krypton at the end of the Seventh Age.'

'... The Seventh Age? But that means...' Emma looked closer at the city around her.

Cracks branched across the public murals. Some of the street lamps had broken bulbs. Children still played in the market but the smiles of the adults were strained. A group of wizards hunched over a tablet-like device and murmured at the ill news that came from beyond the valley.

'Yes,' Morgan confirmed. 'these are the last days of Krypton.'

The Temple of the Orb rose over the city at its very heart. So large it spanned over the great river that ran through the city. Emma felt the heat of the Wizards' power in the very stones under her feet. No cracks allowed here. Here the murals spoke of the very founding of the world and how the gods had blessed the first Wizards of Juru with their magic. Across the chaos of the Second Age and the ice age of the Fourth, Juru stood as a bastion of Kryptonian culture.

Then the colonizer Val-El came and the Great Houses of Kandor never allowed the Valley of Juru to lower their guard again.

Emma stopped.

A circle split in two caught her eye. A Nightwing and a Firebird circled each other in an endless dance. Neither seeking dominance over the other. Rays of red and black rained their blessings down upon the land, gifting Krypton with life.

The Firebird flared brighter. Flying faster. Overtaking his brother-self. The black lines ran red. Jungles were covered in towers of crystal. The Nightwing could not stretch his wings. With every turn of the cycle he was squeezed smaller and smaller and smaller until the Nightwing was but a dot amid the fires of Creation.

And then he burst free.

Wings spreading across the sky as cracks radiated from his splendor. Green ice flared across the land. The Nightwing's shadow devoured everything. Destruction unleashed in a single glorious moment of beauty and terror.

'Emma.'

Emma's head snapped towards the sound of Morgan's voice. She blinked and the golden glow of her irises faded back to a dark brown.

If Morgan noticed she gave no sign. 'Come. We must bear witness.'

Emma looked back at the mural. The Firebird and Nightwing circled each other in endless harmony...

(Read the rest on AO3)

[askthehiddencaste]

Do you have any trolls that aren't technically on the blog?

Yes actually! I have one godzilla inspired one (Gojira the Radioactive-Blue), a shadow dropper (unnamed and mysteriously colored. Likes to keep privacy every from the creator lol), a bastard violet sea capton, shuskas direct heiress, and then Mr Cowboy! (Again unnamed, bronze, and will respectfully fuck anything with a pulse),

I have others but they're thoughts of thoughts or already in works of getting their sprites like the grubs :3