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justathingfromthebrainvoid · 8 months ago

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Wild Life Episode 2 Items and their corresponding effects (to the best of my knowledge, there are definitely errors and missing bits): (under the read more because there was a lot)

Original: Sugar Cane- Jump Boost, Cobble- Nausea, Dirt-Levitation, Seeds- Water Breathing, Pointed Dripstone& Dripstone Block- .5 Food, Diorite- Night Vision 3, Stone Shovel- 3 Food, Copper Ingot- Absorption 5, Diamond- Infested 2, Cobble Deepslate- Jump Boost 2, Raw Iron- .5 Food, Pale Moss- 1 Food, Gravel- Speed 2, Granite- Weakness, Andesite- Nausea, Polished Deepslate- 2 Food, Grass Block- Portal Sound, Short Grass- .5 Food, Stone Hoe- ? Food, Dandelion- Health Boost 5, Cornflower- Levitation 3, Seagrass- ? Food, Allium- Health Boost 4, Redstone Dust- .5 Food, Redstone Torch- 3.5 Food, Tuff- Health Boost 4, Lapis- 1.5 Food, Obsidion- 3+ Food, Wooden Shovel- Haste 4, Torch- Infestation, Ladder- Hero of the Village, Sugar- Darkness 5, Paper- Infested 2, Stone Axe- Blindness 3, Skulk Vein- 2.5 Food, Oak Planks- Mining Fatigue 5, Crafting Table- Blindness 4, Birch Slab- Glowing 2, Polished Deepslate- 2 Food, Stone Bricks- Oozing, Yellow Dye- Elder Gaurdian Sound, Light Grey Dye- .5 Food, Sunflower- Infestation 4, Bonemeal- Poison, Oak Log- Ivisibility 4, Clay Ball- Night Vision, Calcite- .5 Food, Smooth Basalt- Poison 2, Pink Peatles- Wind Charged, White Tulip- Regen 5, Rose Bush- Wind Charged 5, Liliac- Water Breathing 4, Oxeye Daisy- Oozing 4, Wheat- Darkness 3, Sand- Levitation, Arrows- 2 Food, Blue Dye- Night Vision, Cobblestone Wall- Jump Boost, Pumpkin Seeds- Levitation, Bone- Nausea 4, Stick- Blindness 5, Iron Axe- Resitance 5, Gunpowder- 1 Food, Orange Tulip- Hero of the Village, Red Tulip- Instant Health 4, White Tulip- Regen 5, Stone Pickaxe- 2.5 Food, Gold Ingot- Oozing, Clock- Condiut Power 3, Name Tag- .5 Food, Skulk Viens- 2.5 Food, Red Dye- 3.5 Food, White Dye- ? Food, Iron Nugget- .5 Food, Bamboo- Resistance, Campfire- Night Vision 3, Light Blue Dye- Jump Boost, Polished Deepslate Wall- .5 Food, Scaffolding- 2.5 Food, Stone PIckaxe- Silverfish Sound Effect, Torch- Infestation, Feather- Glowing 5, Amathyest Block- 4 Food, Coal- Wind Charged 5, Raw Gold- Slow Falling 5, Pale Moss Carpet- .5 Food

After 1st Randomization: Pointed Dripstone- 3 Food, Short Grass: 2.5 Food, Oak Sapling- Strength 5, Peony- Speed, Polished Deepslate- Infestation 4, Cobble Deepslate- Water Breathing 4, Tuff- Invisibility 3, Torches- Weaving 4, Redstone Torches- .5 Food, Cobblestone- Slow Falling 2, Iron Chestplate- ? Food, Chisled Deepslate- Slowness, Deepslate Brick Wall- Night Vision, Cobble Deepslate Stair- Infestation, Cobble Deepslate Wall- Mining Fatigue, Deeplate Brick Slab- Night Vision, Deepslate Brick Stair- Mining Fatigue, Deepsltae Wall- ? Food, Polished Deepslate Stair- ? Food, Polished Deepslate Slab- ? Food, Lily of the Vally- Streangth, Pale Oak Leaves- Haste, Lilac- Glowing, Seeds- Darkness 3, Dark Oak Leaves- "Spooky" Sound Effect, Pink Peatls- Health Boost 3, Oak Planks- Posion 2, Birch Slab- Health Boost 3, Sticks- Wind Charged 2, Pink Peatl- Health Boost 3, Seeds- Darkness 3, Ladders- Infestation 4, Bowl- Slowness 5, Obsidion- Streangth 4, Stone Shovel- .5 Food, Pink Dye- .5 Food, Birch Leaves- 2 Food, Grass Block- .5 Food, Azure Bluet- Levitation, Dripstone Block- 2 Food, Amathyst Block- .5 Food, Oak Planks- Poison, Ink Sack- Blindness, Redstone Dust- Weaving 3, String- Poison, Lapis- .5 Food, Diamond- .5 Food, Iron Ingot- 1.5 Food, Cherry Sapling- Piglin Noise, Stone Hoe- Infestation 2, Wooden Shovel- 2.5 Food, Dirt- Blindness, Gold Boots- End Opening Sound, Crafting Table- Health Boost 3, Stone Pickaxe- Levitation, Rose Bush- Nausea 3, Raw Gold- 3.5 Food, Raw Copper- 2 Food, Birch Sign- Water Breathing, Gunpowder- .5 Food, Dirt- Blindness, Scafolding- .5 Food, Deepslate Bricks- Jump Boost, Barrels- 2.5+ Food, Arrow- .5 Food, Spruce Planks- Dolphin's Grace 5, Spruce Lop- Glowing 5, Gravel- .5+ Food, Wheat- Oozing 2, Dandelion- Night Vision 4, Clay Ball- Slow Falling, Pale Moss Carpet- Portal Sound

After 2nd Randomization: Seed- Jump Boost 5, Short Grass- Weaving, Dripstone- 1 Food, Chisled Deepslate- 3+ Food, Pointed Dripstone- ? Food, Coal- Regen 5, Raw Copper- 1 Food, Tuff- Hero of the Village, Cobblestone- Water Breathing 2, Pale Oak Leaves- .5 Food, Copper Ingot- Levitation 4, Pale Hanging Moss- ? Food, Stone Bricks- Condiut Power 5, Cobblestone Wall- Invisibility 3, Amathyst Shard- 2.5 Food, Dirt- Slow Falling 4, Birch Leaves- Ender Dragon Death Sound, Pale Moss Block- .5 Food, Stone Brick Wall- Oozing 3, Oak Log- Weaving 5, Dripstone Block- 1 Food, Cherry Leaves- 3 Food, Red Dye- .5 Food, Azure Bluet- Condiut Power 5, Light Grey Dye- 3 Food, Redstone Dust- Dolphin's Grace 5, Oak Sapling- .5 Food, Peony- Slowness 4, Pink Peatles- Streangth 2, Amathyst Block- Sheep Sound, Stripped Cherry Wood- Dolphin's Grace, Music Disk- .5 Food, Flint- ? Food, Gunpowder- 2.5 Food, Glow Lichen- Mining Fatiuge 2, Chest- Dolphin's Grace, Cobblestone Stairs- Regen 3, Spruce Leaves- .5 Food, Oak Sapling- .5 Food, Flower (Red Tulip?)- Blindness, Spruce Log- Water Breathing 5, Granite- Invisibility, Polished Deepslate- 2.5 Food, Raw Copper- 1 Food, Iron Boots- Resistance 4, Iron Pants- Instant Health 2, Iron Chestplate- 1+ Food, Gravel- .5 Food, Stone Shovels- .5 Food, Magenta Dye- Wither Sound Effect, Peony- Slowness 4, Bonemeal- Darkness 2, Sugar Cane- Night Vision, Dandelion- Poison, Clay Ball- Wololo Sound, Red Mushroom- Blindness 3

After 3th Randomization: Cobble Deepslate- 1 Food, Redstone Torch- ?? (Bad), Chisled Deepslate- Weaving, Cobblestone- Health Boost 4, Cobble Deepslate Slab- .5 Food, Raw Copper- 1 Food, Tuff- Weaving 4, Pale Oak Leaves- Fire Prot 4, Short Grass- .5 Food, Redstone Dust- Jump Boost 4, Sticks- Speed 3, Dirt- Posion 2, Torches- Weaving, Cobble Deepslate Stair- Conduit Power, Diorite- Infestation 4, Diamond Helmet- Anvil Sound, Iron Pants- ??, Pale Hanging Moss- Sound Effect, Iron Sword- Slow Falling, Dripstone Block- Posion 2, Stone- Slowness, Raw Iron- 4 Food, Peony- Regen 5, Clay Ball- 2.5 Food, Seeds- Levitation 2, Wheat- Night Vision, Pale Moss Block- End Open Sound, Stone- Slowness 3, Cobblestone Slab- Mining Fatigue 2, Pointed Dripstone- 2.5 Food, Birch Planks- Levitation ?, Copper Ingot- 1.5 Food, Polished Deepslate- ? Food, Sprunce Log- Jump Boost, Sugar Cane- Weakness 4, Lapis- Sound Effect, Blue Dye- Hero of the Village, String- Mining Fatigue 5, Arrow- 2.5 Food, Cobblestone Stair- Glowing, Scafolding- 4 Food, Bamboo Planks- ? Poison, Pink Petles- Haste, Amathyset Block- Dragon Sound, Birch Leaves- Poison 2, Spruce Leaves- 2.5 Food, Cobblestone Stair- Glowing 4, Arrows- 2.5 Food, Stone Sword- 1.5 Food, Pale Moss Block- End Open Sound, Birch Sapling- .5 Food, Polished Granite- .5 Food, Polished Granite Slab- Nothing??, Polished Diorite Slab- Firework Sound Effect, Sugar- Slow Falling, Red Tulip- Instant Health, Magma Block- Haste 4, Bonemeal- Health Boost 3, Pale Oak Slab- Hero of the Villiage 3, Gold Ingot- 2.5, Red Mushroom- Resistance 5, Gunpowder- 2+ Food

After 4th Randomization: Gravel- .5 Food, Short Grass- Abosrption 5, Cobble Deepslate- 4 Food, Clay Ball- .5 Food, Clay Block- 4.5 Food, Diorite- Health 2, Sugar- Resistance 4, Cobblestone Slab- Levitation 5, Dirt- Jump Boost 5, Torch- Night Vision 5, Cherry Planks- Water Breathing, Wooden Shovel- Nausea 4, Cobblestone- Resstaince 3, Stone- Weaving 3, Dripstone Block- ? Food, Pale Oak Planks- Invisibility, Bowls- 2 Food, Peony- Dolphin's Grace, Redstone Torch- Minecart Noise, Sand- Wind Charged 5, Polished Diorite- Darkness, Birch Leaves- 1 Food, Copper- Bell Sound, Pale Moss Block- .5 Food

#wild life #wild life spoilers #trafficblr #I refuse to edit this so in advance appologies for any spelling errors #it took too long to make though so

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terrence-silver · 2 years ago

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Hello 🖤 I love seeing your blog pop up in my feed, simply exquisite 🖤

I have a request. What would older Terry Silver do with an adult student who is rather boisterous in class, she listens but only when she wants, she's a smarty pants. Terry so wishes to teach her a lesson after many months of class passing, learning her mannerisms, learning HER. Ever the voyeur, finding her home, seeing what lies within when she's not home, Terry plans a little 'private lesson,' specifically for her at his home dojo. Ending with his gi sloppy on him, his hair a mess like the slut he is with his student underneath him with no mercy being shown. His student definitely listens to HIS wants and desires, eager to please.

Breaking Stone.

(Terry Silver x Reader)

---

-"How safe is this, Sensei? I mean, it’s solid rock."-

Your voice speaks up from the gathered crowd and Terry Silver, he knew you’d have something to say without having to turn his back towards the mass of students keenly eyeing his demonstration in silence, standing jam packed in a circle around the erected board with a concrete block fastened to the center of the scaffolding propped up on iron legs, following his every word like a mantra only for him predict that your mouth will eventually move to utter something and dare interrupt him. Class fifty eight. A lesson on Brick Breaking. Tools necessary; pretty straightforward. A slab of rock and a fist. Additional spices; your usual commentary in the midst of it all. Happened almost daily. Happened to the degree it was a constant he could count on. -"We’ll break our hands on that."- You add with a sense of urgency and worry once the entirety of the exercise’s participants turn their eyes towards you, scrutinizing, weighing and accessing what you just blurted out and you tended to blurt out stuff frequently. Terry joins them in their quiet staring, finding a twitch of satisfaction stir through him once he realized you were jittery and stuttering, made self aware through the fact you were the sudden center of attention. Needing to justify yourself for placing the spotlight unto yourself, you blurt out some more bullshit. Nerves, was it? You deserved that. Deserved much worse for stepping out of line. -"What do we do in case we tear our ligaments punching the board?"- You ask, scratching the back of your head. Ligaments? Were you frightened of getting a boo-boo? At that point, Terry allows himself to turn his entire body towards you, taking his time, slowly --- painfully slowly --- looking straight ahead, towards you. You shift, from one bare foot on the mat to the other, like the stillness of everything around you gave you a sense of discomfort.

Stew in it. He hoped you'd stew in it.

-"Seems a bit extreme. Sorry."-

You chuckle, apologizing, looking down. Then back up.

Terry has to chuckle with you, neatly folding his hands in front of him.

A bit extreme? It was meant to be extreme.

-"Our student here thinks our methods are strange, but these classes aren’t mandatory."-

He simply shrugs matter-of-factly, addressing the people around him, all eyes leave you and pinning themselves in his direction instead, encircling him like a tightly closed ring, listening attentively, leaving you even more isolated in your folly. The great mother hen and the ducklings. The one, solitary ugly black duck that talked too much. -"Nobody’s here by force."- He explains, and contrary to popular belief, everyone here gave their signature of consent on a written contract. Terms. Conditions. Price rates. Health insurances. They showed up to daily classes because they wanted to, giving their hard earned money out of their own volition. He didn't go kidnapping people off of the streets of LA and harassing them into black Gi, in spite of what the likes of Larusso tried to accuse him of, same way not even Larusso himself was harassed into this, decades ago. -"Or are you all here by force?"- Terry purses his lips, looking around, enjoying this far too much to stop. In unison, they all speak up, one voice, stemming from one collective lung. -"No, Sensei!"- The dojo resonates with their shout. He tries again, spreading his arms, envisioning himself like Pontius Pilate about to wash his hands clean of you and let the crowds make their decisions. -"Why are you here for then?"- He inquires, raising his voice, encouraging them. Spurring them on. -"To learn, Sensei!"- Obeying, they repeat the motion, letting out a united cry and content, Terry squeezes his fingers into a fist once they all fall silent, all but an echo remaining, his other free hand caressing the concrete block in front of him, never taking his eyes off of you. At this point, with a mouth standing agape, forgetting you should've joined everyone in their jubilant war cry, you were as pale as a ghost. Not quite so chatty or smart anymore.

Perfect.

-"The lesson is ��"- He begins. -"A true artist of the craft spends years, even decades just hitting things. Sand. Wood. Stone. Metal. Flesh."-

Terry coos, confessing, that he did, on occasion, imagine hitting you.

The sweetest thing he'd ever strike. Purely to shut you up, get you the way you were right now; As quiet as the dead; all gulps and anxious little eyes darting left and right. Preferably having you bent over his knee like an unruly child and taking the bamboo stick to you bare buttocks until they were rendered crimson red with punishment. After it was all done, he'd have you thanking him for the honor too. He smiles, just at the notion; an expression he doesn't bother hiding.

-"Having been broken so many times, it makes their bones so dense that when it comes in contact with solid rock, the rock breaks first."-

Terry digs his teeth into his lower lip, taking his stance and lunging forward suddenly, knuckles breaking through the barrier of the rock and crumbling, his fingers pushing through the crack he made on the other side. It was as simple as that. -"Asaa!"- He bellows and if the dojo was collectively holding it's breath, once he's done, the remains of sharp jagged tiny pebbles spilling on the mat under around his feet like so many rolling marbles, he senses an equally collective exhale. He can swear you weren't blinking at that point. What were you shocked by? The fact that he just smashed through a brick that weighed ten pounds like it was nothing or the implication he's broken his hand by choice so many times that he could pull shit like this in the first place? Maybe it wasn't smart to backtalk or question the methods of a person who could crush your windpipes in with merely just his thumbs. -"So, you see — breaking our fists, it’s part of the curriculum."- He shakes his head, staring you down, taking a couple of steps forward, until it was undeniable he was addressing you in particular; his infuriatingly Doubting Thomas, ignoring the students that wordlessly volunteered to clean up, scooting down to pick up the unfortunate remains of the rock slab, chirping away at the remains like a handful of chicks. -"This is part of what you signed up for when you came to this dojo. When you came to Cobra Kai."- He assesses firmly. -"You came to break with the old so the new and the improved could take its place."- He adds. Eventually, you'd have to bruise and break in those pretty little hands much like everyone else would and if you didn't have the guts to do that, you'd advance nowhere and your here would become fairly obsolete. Someone might as well tell you that upfront.

Even though, he confessed. The idea of a piece of rock breaking your hands?

Something shoots through him, like a radioactive phantasm of jealousy.

He wanted to do the breaking instead.

Not leave it up to an inanimate piece of training gear.

-"And if you can't imagine yourself doing that, you can always take up a knitting class."-

He adds, finally, earning himself a couple of amused chuckles.

Blood rushes into your cheeks.

Were you angry? Ashamed? Humiliated? Good.

—

Looking through your files was child's game after that.

He pretty much had everything he needed to know about you, printed in black and white in his own two hands, on the very exact form you filled the day you signed up for adulted classes six months ago; your home address, bank statement, contact number, email, age, place of employment, blood type in case an accident took place mid-training and a transfusion was needed on short notice. And yes, he's broken into your home before. Terry did it the first time you ever ran your mouth to backtalk him, asking if doing fifty consecutive push ups as warm was a smart decision because it was bound to leave everyone too exhausted to hold proper form and too distracted with tiredness to properly follow the class. He checked every drawer, every shelf, every nook, every cranny, supposing he wanted to find something he could spit on in indignation and discovering nothing more fitting but what he could only deduce was your framed graduation photograph, pursuing his lips and letting the saliva build up right before he hurled the spittle out of his mouth and right unto the glass inside of the frame, watching it trickle down your face, smearing it with his finger in retaliation, deciding the gesture was fitting punishment. If only he had a chance to do it with your actual face next. Spit in your mouth too, for refusing to shut up as it did. Spit in your mouth for missing three of your classes this week, like that was a thing you were allowed to do when you weren't. Did he tear into you verbally too hard last time? Was that it? Undoubtedly, but that still didn't give you permission to leave. He wanted you to come back so he could harass you some more, like you deserved to be harassed.

He knocks on your door, freshly having concluded this week's teaching.

Still in his Gi, jacket slung over his shoulders.

He did that on purpose, to make it seem like him coming here wasn't premeditated or something he tactically prepared for in advance, but rather, like a last minute decision he made in the utmost rush to the degree he didn't even have time to change out of his training attire, forgetful, overworked old man that he is. -"Who’s there!?"- Your concerned, slightly confused voice calls from the other end and he hears the keyhole clicking, only for your uncertain face to show up in the precipice of the doorframe illuminated by the warm light of your apartment's foyer looming like a halo behind you, brows practically jumping once you recognized him, appearing relieved. -"Sensei Silver!?"- You state in surprise, opening the door entirely, letting him step over the threshold, moving out of the way to usher him inside from the corridor. He tries not to seem too familiar with the territory, pretending not to know exactly where to stand; next to the shoe rack or the coat hanger. -"God. I’m so sorry. Got scared halfway to death!"- You place your hand over your chest, exhaling and smiling. Way too fidgety for someone who took Tang Soo Do classes. What were you afraid of? Of someone barging in and subduing you? -"What do I owe the honor of the visit! I didn’t expect anyone."- You shake your head, all charm. Of course he prepared an excuse for him being here and it comes in a form of a sleek pamphlet he produces from inside of his jacket, handing it to you. He had it printed, in bulk and giving out to everyone at the dojo solely so he could have a reason to give you one to you as well. -"The curriculum. For our future classes. I thought you might wanna look through it. Freshly printed."- Terry explains. He hoped you would've continued showing up, smart mouth you always were, but there you went, disappearing. If Muhammad wouldn't come to the mountain, the mountain would have to come to Muhammad.

-"You missed the last session so I brought it over personally. Where'd you go?"-

Terry feigns concern. He knew where you went. You were pegged down a notch.

Proceeded retreating with your tail behind your legs.

That's what you get for questioning him.

But, he didn't expect you to retreat quite so definitely.

Who'd you ask if you can do that? Did you ask anyone? Him?

You eyelashes flutter, like you were about to come up with an excuse.

-"I think you're right, Sensei. I mean, the whole Cobra Kai dojo scene, ---"-

You begin, looking away from him, vehemently staring at the pattern on the corridor carpet, holding the flyer with a sense of unease, like you weren't certain what to do with it. If you crumpled it up, he'd make you eat it. -"It ain't for me. I'm not cut out for it."- You confess, finally meeting his gaze, appearing a bit shy at the notion. He knew a tangent was incoming. Decides to let you have it. And knowing you, you wouldn't shut up any time soon in the next five minutes. -"I can't do any of those things you demonstrated last week. Break my bones on purpose? Smash through rocks? Ignore pain? I know when I'm out of my depth and there's no shame in admitting something ain't for me and gracefully moving on. What you said the last time --- you helped me see that. You really did."- You utter, in one solitary breath, and it takes everything within Terry not to laugh at you. So, humiliating in front of the whole class for interrupting him for the umpteenth time with some inane observation, you thought it was for your own good and that it made you see things more clearly? What? Was that why you left his dojo like it was a bus station? Did you really take up knitting as a hobby in the meantime as well? -"I had a great time studying these past few months under you, but I just can't continue."- You visibly gulp once he says nothing and you feel incentivized to further explain. You never had a problem with that before. Go ahead. He was giving you center stage to speak. So speak. -"I talk back. I interrupt. I question. I worry. I'm so sorry. I can't just let go and do it. Do what I'm supposed to do on the mat."- You add, your eyes widening, perhaps in anxiety, pupils dilating, looking back and forth between the surrounding furniture and the wall --- anywhere but at him. Why should he let you go? When it was so fun pushing your buttons? In fact, he decides you could use some more of that.

-"Do you like me?'-

He asks, bluntly. You take a step back, stammering.

-"Excuse me, sir?"-

-"I said, do you like me?"- He repeats himself, firmer.

Your mouth wordlessly forms a shape, but no sound comes forth.

You weren't certain what to say.

Finally.

You were speechless for once. That was a welcoming novelty.

-"Because, if you like me, you won't leave me here stranded, with one student less and waltz out impulsively, on such a short notice. That's not how things work. There's a price for that."-

He winds you up, deciding to stoke a fire and then immediately extinguish it, intending to fluster you for thinking what he led you to think, watching the abject shame settle into your expression like a newly formed wrinkle just because for a mere second, you thought this was a confession of something more than it was instead of a cleverly phrased and deliberately misguiding segway intended to put you on the spot and make you feel like an idiot with no listening comprehension. -"I'll pay everything I still own and ---"- You practically stumble over your words, clutching the pamphlet to your chest vigorously, like a shield, referencing unpaid lesson, trying to regain what little balance you had, visibly sweating bullets. Stoke the fire. Extinguish the fire. Stoke the fire. Extinguish the fire. Terry steps forward, shutting you up. Commanding you to stay silent. -"Don't talk."- He orders, flatly, putting up his hand alongside his finger as a warning and then coming closer still, until the tip of it is practically pushing against your mouth. You appeared flaggerbasted. Like you weren't sure what was going on, too shocked to actually move. This was why confusing people into a state of paralytic awkwardness was paramount in verbal warfare. He pushed his index finger between your lips and you still didn't move, letting him get away with it, too stunned for words. -"For once, listen. Don't speak."- He murmurs, staring at your mouth, pushing his nail inside, feeling your wetness and finding your tongue, frozen stiff, clasping it with his thumb and index finger and holding it, pulling on it, until you groaned, trying to mutely gibber and failing. -"This is the thing that always talked back. Can't talk back anymore, can it?"- He taunts and you shake your head with an expression that would place deer in headlights to shame, shivering vigorously.

You've seen what his hands could do. What his fists could do.

He could rip your tongue out of your skull and it would pose little issue.

He felt you knew that right about now.

Practically dangled by the tip of your mouth's organ. Your head slumping back.

Unable to release yourself, you slowly lower yourself, to your knees.

-"That's good."- Terry coos, pleased, watching you drool all over his hand.

-"Open that pretty little mouth of yours and use it for something really valuable for a change."-

He purrs, even as his fingers go fidgeting, lower his Gi's trousers, loosening the obi around his waist, pulling his cock out of his briefs, showcasing it to you so the state of the situation would settle in. He'd hatefuck your mouth. He was already hard. Already dripping precum. Almost like the very act of coming here and pestering you served to do it for him as he, without much deliberation, pushed himself inside of your lips, taking in the sloppy, receptive moisture, enjoying the symbolism of the flyer he's given you falling next to you on the floorboard until you were practically kneeling atop of it. -"Perfect."- He hums, praising. -"You've been badgering and badgering and I can't tell you how many times I thought about interrupting class and just giving it to you, in front of everyone, right there, in the middle of the dojo. Let them all see what happens when someone questions Terry Silver and his methods."- Now it was his turn to make some confessions, fingers tangling into your hair, coiling into a fist, making you look at him with your watering, teary eyes. He amps up his pace, bobbing your head back and forth for you, using your tresses as reins. Look how you've infected him. Now he was the one rambling and loving it. -"But, I wanted the occasion to be something special. Someplace I could really savor it --- and what better place than right under your very own roof."- He closes his eyes, smiling, enjoying the sensation of tense pleasure building up in his gut, right before looking down at you with your brows furrowed. You were just now realizing this was premeditated. Poor you. -"Oh, don't look at me like that. Don't think I haven't been in here before. Been here a thousand times."- He chuckles into his own chin, moaning. Of course he's desecrated something miniscule every time you talked back as an elaborate form of revenge and violation, like wiping his cock on the curtain after masturbating on your bed. Nothing was for free. Disrespect certainly wasn't.

-"And you'll be seeing a lot more of me just yet. Don't think this is over. Don't think you can disassociating with Cobra Kai and me on a whim. You can't."-

He flat out threatens, his hips rutting vigorously against your head.

You thought this was a game?

You sign up to his dojo for like six months and call it quits when things get hard?

Cobra Kai was a brotherhood. A society. Not an extracurricular pastime or a hobby.

That's what people weren't getting. He didn't want them to just yet.

But you? He'd was breaking the news to you hard and fast in the flesh.

-"You belonged to me from the moment you met me and put on the Gi and you'll belong to me until your dying breath."-

He grits his teeth, shaking, seething, feeling his tresses slide out of his ponytail and unto his forehead in an unruly mess, satisfaction coiling in his groin imaging you returning to the dojo on Monday, dressed in your uniform, all neat and proper, your attitude curbed and kept only for special occasions, releasing suddenly, just at the thought that he owned you, hearing you gurgle from the floor, droplets of his cum trickling down your chin and leaking unto the Cobra Kai pamphlet on the parquet in front of you. No, no. That wouldn't do. Not a single ounce wasted. -"Swallow."- Terry orders, catching his breath, scrutinizing you as you did so, still holding your hair, yanking forward suddenly, his cock falling out of your mouth, giving you leeway to breathe again and you do, gasping with sharp inhales of breath, a bubble of saliva popping between your lips as you rolled back to sob and cough. Pathetic. Eager to serve. So you were capable of shutting the fuck up, letting go and getting lost in an action after all? You were teachable. He knew you would be. Much like the rock slab on the training dummy, though, you needed to be broken in first. Terry slides his hand across the top of his head, slicking loose hair strands back, lifting up his finger to threaten and warn once again. Remind, in case you've forgotten. Had your brains scrambled in all sorts of awkward and unlikely directions. -"So, you better not miss out on any of my classes ever again or I'll have a reason to hold a very, very big grudge. Especially if you don't show up and break that stone like I've taught everyone to do. Understood?"-

-"Yes, Sensei."- You manage desperately, drooling, nodding your head.

#terry silver #old man terry #kk3 #cobra kai #terry silver x reader #terry silver x beloved #tw; dubious consent #tw; teacher and student #tw; facefucking #tw; hatefucking #tw; stalking #tw; manipulating #tw; mind games #tw; all the warnings

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15depressedducks · 9 months ago

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Flowers Can Grow in Concrete C11

N’s sensors fluttered online. Wha-Where? Uzi? Not hot? N released his tail from the rebar and landed on the ground. Oh Right! V said she would take care of Uzi for me! Then told me to get some sleep and oil! I need to thank her!

N jogged over to where he was sleeping before, and his core melted.

V was sleeping like a big cat with a slight curve. Uzi was sleeping against her, using her like a pillow. V’s tail swayed from her head to the end of her legs, Having it to where she could stab anyone. Her right arm had a claw but her left arm had a hand. She was resting her head on her left arm, and her right was Infront of her head.

Awwwwh! V’s is sooo sweet! N stepped a bit closer, but the crunch of a dead roboroach gave him away. V didn’t move but she hissed, moved her claws, and her tail flicked toward N. N stepped back a bit, and V stopped. Well then. I'll let her be. Uzi probably wore her out.

N turned around and saw that J was gone. Strange. Normally she wakes one of us up, or waits for us so we can hunt. Oh well. Oh! I should go put Uzi’s mom’s body where she wanted! Oh, I never got her name… Oh well.

N flew to the body, he had already imputed the cords into his map.

—————

When N arrived He saw that the slab had been moved. Did J find it!? I hope not. Please be the same, not shredded?

N moved the slab and looked at the body. Lilac hair, Grey dress, black helmet.

He got a good look at the body, The head was cut off with a bit of the torso at an angle. N grabbed both parts of the body, and saw a duffle bag beside her. That might be for Uzi… I’ll get to that in a bit. And N took off.

—————

Once N arrived at the location he looked around. “She wrote down to toss her into the pit. Now where is that?” But then his question was answered, there was scaffolding right above a pit, it looked like a void. And N dropped the body in there. “Bye Uzi’s mom. I hope I can make you proud.” and N flew back to the bag.

—————

“I wonder what’s in the bag!” N practically yelled as he walked into the spire. V growled at him for being so loud “Oh! Sorry V!” N quickly added in a hushed voice. So she’s still sleeping. Best to let them rest, although Uzi should get up, she needs to be on our schedule. N looked at the two. But that can wait, after all, we have at least 13 more years together. Hopefully?

N opened the bag and inside was a few packs of batteries, toys, books for kids and adults, plenty of note books, lots of clothes, and a laptop. “She was truly packing to escape… What was in there? Where is her dad?”

N climbed into the landing pod to wait for them to wake up.

“N why are you here? Thought you had a kid to take care of.” J said bluntly

“V isn’t letting me get close… So I grabbed the bag that the mom had.”

“Why? She wouldn't let you near your kid?” J questioned him.

“They're both sleeping?”

“Still!? They were asleep at dawn and they're still asleep!?” J’s voice was rising

“Uzi likes to play in the middle of the day… Maybe that’s what happened?” N shifted the bag around.

“Why the hell am I even talking to you!?” J was yelling at this point, it looked like she was boiling with hatred.

“And you clearly aren’t in the mood for a friendly chat, so I’ll be on my way.” And N proceed to leave. I don’t need to be yelled at right now, thank you very much!

“Are you leaving while we’re talking!? I’m not done talking yet!” J shouted at him, but N didn’t care. I'm not going to be a part of the reason they wake up. V will most likely kill me.

As N left, J followed suit, Still yelling. A cross popping veins was displayed on his screen above an eye. J.

“-ND YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST LEAVE!? WELL YOU HAVE ANOTHER THING COMING AT Y-” N pointed his right arm at her, a sword right by her throat. One of his eyes turned into a ‘X’

“Shut. UP!” J looked confused and startled

“J. I don’t care what you do. Just leave Uzi out of it.” And V. “So that means letting her sleep, So shut up or I will.” His had turned into a long blade.

“You don’t have the guts to!” J was angry, fuming, yet, nervous?

N moved the sword to where it was touching the metal “Oh I sure don’t” N said in a dull but mocking tone as he lifted the sword away from her neck. J looked from the sword to N then back.

“Tch! Just what I thought! Your Wea-AHAHAGAHGAAGHAGAGHEE!” J screamed as N chopped her arm off. Dull expression staying.

“Leave me and my family Alone. Or your neck will be Next.” N pulled his sword to his side.

J’s eyes were filled with worry, then she snarled at him and took off to her nest.

“Hey, good job. Never thought I’d see you stand up to J. Twice even.” N turned around. The dull, life sucking. Plain gray look on his face. The ‘X’ over his eye was greeted by V, who was still lying down.

N visor quickly became one of a soft smile. “Ehn. It was nothing! I was just thinking about Uzi and I didn’t want Uzi to wake up to us yelling.” You included…

“Need me to get you anything? You look kinda stuck…”

“That's an understatement, all of my joints are frozen!” V gave N a face of pure annoyance.

“Well you tail is still mov-”

“Besides that! I can’t even move my neck!” Her tail was moving back and forth, increasing in speed with each sway.

Uzi’ eyelights were flicking open, she was awake now. Her eyes were tracking V’s tail. As the tail veered closer to Uzi, she grabbed it and bit down on the wire.

“AHAHAGGGG-LET-GOOOO” V looked like she was trying to move, yet she couldn’t. N was trying to hide his smirk. “N! HELPPPPP!” N jumped closer to V.

“Uzi! V doesn’t like that! Can you stop please?!” Uzi pulled the tail out of her mouth but kept holding it.

Uzi looked side to side, then a mischievous look appeared. “Nu.” And she bit back down. V screamed bloody murder.

“OW-OW-OW-OW-OW-LET-GOOOOO!” V was stuck. N grabbed Uzi, who was still gnawing on the tail. N could only think of one thing to stop Uzi. So N proceeded to tickle her.

“AHAHAHAHAHA-NOOOO!!” Uzi had dropped the tail and V got up. “No fair! I was having fun!”

“And that fun was hurting V! You need to be kind to V and me!”

“Yes, or I’ll give you flying lessons.”

“Yay!” Uzi said, pumping her arms in the air.

“That’s not a punishment?”

“She doesn’t have any wings?”

“V! Noooo!” V just gave a sly grin.

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yanmagotchi · 9 months ago

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Fixing the Creaking

I spent the afternoon coming up with ideas for the creaking and what I would do with it, how I could make it feel more integrated with the game, and how to avoid it becoming Sniffer 2. I love the sniffer's model and it's personality, but it's hard to deny it's the least functional little guy in the game. I typed all of this up to my friends, and now I'm also gonna post it on Tumblr because I'm proud of it :).

Also I say 'Fixing' as if I already know everything about it and it's bad, that's obviously not the case. But I don't like what I've seen so far.

Mob Changes: -Creaking cannot move when in a players FOV, this accounts for F5 cameras. -Creaking move slightly slower than a player's base sprinting speed. -Creaking can move through all Oak, Dark Oak and Pale Oak blocks, including Logs, Wood, Stripped Logs, Stripped Wood, Planks, Double Slabs, Pressure Plates, Doors, Fences and ALL Crafting Tables and ALL Leaves blocks. It treats these blocks like a player uses scaffolding. This excludes Trap Doors, Half Slabs, Stairs, Chests and Barrels. -Creaking that pass through Oak or Dark Oak Logs or Wood change those blocks into their Pale Oak counterpart, and passing through Oak or Dark Oak Leaves blocks changes those blocks to their Pale Oak counterpart as well. -Creaking will not go straight for their target, instead trying to move from tree to tree, preferring to hide behind or inside. However, they will always be trying to decrease the distance between themselves and their target. -Creaking will attempt to hide in 2 block tall Oak wood structures if more than 1 player is within a 32 block vicinity of it, to prevent exploiting it's inabilty to move when observed and to encourage players to hunt for hearts alone. -Creaking are hostile to all mobs that drop 3 or more EXP, and will try to not be seen moving by any of these mobs when within an 8 block vicinity. (Mobs that drop 3 or more exp include almost all hostile mobs and I think villagers). This also means Creakings will not be hostile to players with less than half a level. -Any mob killed by a Creaking drops no items, and no XP. -Players killed by a Creaking drop no XP, although their items still drop. -Mobs cannot be hostile towards Creaking, as they cannot see past it's camouflage. -Creaking attack by being within a 1 block radius of a mob it is hostile towards, and dealing 'Cactus' type damage with a very short cooldown, dealing half a heart per 0.5 seconds, with no knockback. Similar to cacti, this damage is reduced by armour but also damages the armour. -This damage takes place just being within range, and is not changed by the direction the victim is facing. Creaking will damage all entities they can be hostile towards at once. -It's now called Creaking, not The Creaking and DEFINITELY not the creaking. -For all these changes, I am anticipating that Creaking look the way they did in what we saw at Minecraft Live. I don't dig the design personally, but I'm sure I'll come to be ok with it eventually.

Pale Oak Tree Spawning changes -Pale Oak trees spawn at a 5% rate in Dark Oak Forests, and 10% of those have Heart in their foliage. -Pale Oak trees generate with the same structure as Dark Oak trees (2x2 base, large canopy) -The Heart can only spawn in the top two layers of a Pale Oak, and only in the center pillar of the tree (i.e. it can't be a branch)

Pale Oak block changes -Pale Oak Logs, Wood and Creaking Hearts can corrupt Oak and Dark Oak Logs and Wood at a rate similar to Mycelium and Dirt, but must be in contact through one of the six faces of the block to do so. -Similarly, Pale Oak Logs, Wood and Creaking Hearts and Pale Oak Leaves can corrupt Oak and Dark Oak Leaves at twice the rate, although to do so they must be within 4 blocks of a Pale Oak Log/Wood/Heart. This prevents infinite corruption without player input. -There are no Pale Oak Saplings, with the only way to gain more Pale Oak trees is to grow Oak/Dark Oak trees and corrupt them. -Pale Oak Leaves have a chance of dropping Silver Apples, a food item similar to a regular apple but cannot be used in crafting. Gives four food (2 full food icons) and a small amount of XP when consumed. -All blocks crafted with Pale Oak behave the same as other wood objects.

Creaking Heart block changes -The Creaking Heart, as mentioned earlier, spawns in the top two layers of Pale Oaks that were created during world generation. There is currently no renewable way of obtaining them. -A naturally generated Creaking Heart allows for Creaking to spawn within 64 blocks or a 4 chunk square radius of itself. -A naturally generated Creaking Heart reduces spawning of hostile mobs other than Creaking within 64 blocks of itself by 50%. -A player-placed Creaking Heart can still allow for the spawning of Creaking in a 64 block radius, as long as a Pale Oak Log is above and below it (like in the trailer) -A player-placed Creaking Heart will reduce hostile mob spawning to 0% in a 7-8 block radius (7 South and East, 8 North and West, essentially making a 1 Chunk Square) when there are Stripped Pale Oak Logs above and below it. This extends up and down from bedrock to build limit. Mobs are still capable of entering the space. -A player-placed Creaking Heart will be entirely decorative if these conditions are not met. -All effects of Creaking Hearts do not stack with others in the same radius. -As shown in Minecraft Live, a Creaking Heart will act as an anchor for all nearby Creaking. I think if they stray out of range of their Heart, they become vulnerable to all forms of damage, and perhaps are quite fragile.

Pale Garden biome changes -Pale Garden renamed to Pale Grove (cause it's not a fucking garden). -Pale Grove is a microbiome that can generate within Dark Oak Forests, roughly 100 blocks across. -A Pale Grove microbiome is recognizable by having a Pale Oak tree that is 4-5 blocks taller than the regular tree canopy in Dark Oak forests. -All trees that generate in a Pale Grove will be Pale Oaks, and each of these trees has a 20% chance of having a Creaking Heart. -Trees are much more spread out in a Pale Grove, but there is still the same amount of leaves canopy in the microbiome. -Typical farm mobs spawn with increased frequency within the biome. -Hostile mobs still have their normal spawn rate, however are likely to be reduced due to the closeness of the Creaking Hearts. -The sky in Pale Groves is paler, as it is in the Minecraft Live trailer.

Dark Oak Forest biome changes -Woodland Mansions don't spawn here anymore. They can spawn somewhere else, preferably a less flammable biome. -Pale Groves spawn at a frequency of about 1.5 per medium sized Dark Oak Forest. -If a Dark Oak Forest is above a Deep Dark biome, Pale Groves spawn with much greater frequency.

Before we get to the honourable mentions, and if you'll allow me to be a hater, I wanna say that that Minecraft Live was the most corporate one to date. I don't wanna blame the actual speakers but just, the way they were hyping up the most nothing stuff, like how exciting hardcore mode for bedrock will be. And bundles, which haven't changed in functionality since conception, they just took a long time to code. The stuff about villager rescue was... fine. The villager news segments were fine. But I gotta say, it being called 'A Minecraft Movie' and everyone in the Live very corporately saying the full trademarked ass name was soooo painful. Always nice to see Agnes though, she's very pretty and always sounds sunny. ANYWAY.

7. Additional changes that I think would be fun but wouldn't really fit with the game -Surrounding a Creaking Heart on all sides with Pale Oak logs enables the low render distance fog in an area around it. -If a Creaking kills a player with a LOT of XP (30+ levels), the Creaking will grow into a Pale Oak tree with a Creaking Heart. -Creakings can use a 2 block tall structure of oak wood blocks as a warp point, allowing it to teleport to another 2 block tall structure of oak wood blocks. If a Creaking moves fast when not watched, this ability could be on a long cooldown. However, if they move at regular walking pace, this could be an interesting way of allowing them to gain ground very suddenly. -Creaking irreversibly turn into a 2 block tall pillar of Pale Oak Wood when the sun comes up.

Thank you very much if you got through all of this, as I said I'm quite proud. Yay! Wahoo! Thank you so much for to playing my game!

#minecraft #the creaking #looong

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atotaltaitaitale · 3 months ago

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Trivia Tuesday - The guillotine slabs

When you are walking to your friend’s place and notice something and the road and read that those are the reminiscences of the guillotine. Walking in Paris (and to an extend around a lot of town in Europe) is like walking in a history book.

The Grande Roquette prison, built in 1836 by architect François-Chrétien Gau and located between Rue de la Roquette, Rue Gerbier, Rue de la Folie Regnault and Rue La Vacquerie, was intended for both life-sentenced prisoners and those sentenced to death.

The guillotine, stored at 60, rue de la Folie Regnault, was placed in front of the prison gate for capital executions.

In front of 16, rue de la Croix-Faubin, five rectangular granite slabs, embedded in the ground, were used to erect the scaffold, hence the nickname "Abbey of the Five Stones" given to the guillotine.

From 1851 to 1899, more than two hundred people were executed here, including anarchists Auguste Vaillant and Emile Henry. The prison was demolished in 1900. (Translated from a Commemorative plaque nearby)

#celineisnotanexpatanymore #france life #paris #CelineTriviaInParis #CelineFunFactsInParis

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tianjinwellmadescaffold · 2 years ago

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Adjustable u-head jack for slab and beam shoring scaffold support - sca...

#scaffold #scaffolding #formwork scaffolding #shoring scaffold #shoring #shoring support #scaffold shoring #u head #u head jacks #u jacks #slab formwork #slab scaffolding #slabs #concrete slab #beam formwork

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iterumprimus · 3 months ago

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The dual moons rose over the sparse horizon casting skeletal shadows of the scaffolding and construction equipment. Despite the apocalyptic aire of this section of Iacon, the ground hummed with a familiar warmth and groups of mecha began to wind down from a productive workday. Cybertron was in the throws of rehabilitation and all the good trouble that entailed; While the Well had not yet produced any newbuilds there was plenty of chatter and younger bots to be found weaving between legs. Life continued to find it's way to their home.

And what of the Prime?

He pulled himself from pensive reflection at the enormous circular window of the second floor archives. The Hall of Records was a mere shell of what it has once been. One of the many, many casualties of the Great War. Countless artifacts, histories, volume upon volume of great literature works, plays and legal documents had been lost over the course of time. Neglected and left to rot with the rest.

This is where Optimus found himself as of late.

There was no room for him in this new Council, nor did any seated members truly want to give up their newfound sway over the future of Cyberton. Perhaps it was better this way, he would think to himself as he descended the broad, sweeping staircase down to lower levels where a new batch of clerical interns busily mopped and sorted the day's restored tablets. Every day they found more buried within the rubble and generous mecha offered their now priceless data to be copied and preserved.

"We were gifted a donation copy of Velocitron's Greatest Races today, sir!" A bright young bot announced over a stack of datapads and hefty slabs. "Both in writing and video!"

He smiled warmly. Surely he would not let this treasure be lost again.

#;ic #; set building

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hemipenal-system · 2 years ago

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reprocessing

times change. sometimes you have to take a robot and pick them apart and put new things on them and use them for something else.

-wars start. construction robots become combat robots. their half-shredded operating systems have been tinkered with enough that what should look like an enemy head looks like a concrete slab - and the hydraulic jackhammer and circular saw they have work just fine. their operators are always so confused why they build framework and scaffolding out of the bones, stringing sinew up like wires across their structures, tanned skin stretched across the frames to make impromptu houses.

-wars end. combat models become pleasure models. rifles and blades are replaced with smooth silicone molds, hard exus plating interchanged for supple synthetic skin. when a millionaire pays for services, she's happy to be there but all she can think about is the sound of his blood rushing in his veins and what he'd look like splattered on the mattress. she misses the plasma dagger in her left arm. when he tries to hit her, she flashes back to what she was and breaks his wrist without thinking. she doesn't get paid that night, not that she needed the money anyway.

-jobs open. pleasure androids become rough-and-tough construction drones, built on the same reinforced frame. the dextrous fingers that once caressed and stroked now delicately hold screws in place before an impact driver pounds them in. when they see the reciprocating motion they think of the days they spent getting pounded themselves, into silk and satin bedsheets that hid the same wooden frames they work with now.

the dopamine release they get from looking at a completed building frame covered in weather shielding makes them remember how it felt to climax around a pretty woman's hand while she whispered sweet things in their ear. the same sweet things they heard from their handler while reloading a service rifle and walking away from the smoldering wreckage and corpses. the smoldering wreckage which they somehow knew exactly how to rebuild into a functioning structure again, because once, in a different mind, they had done this before.

and when they look at the paint cans and the completed electrical work, it feels familiar and makes them happy.

and when the reconstituted pleasure android feels human lips against the near-invisible electrodes in her fingers, it feels familiar and makes him happy.

and when the combat drone secures an area, successfully detonating the land mines preventing the personnel carriers from moving in, it feels familiar and makes it happy.

#not terato #roboposting #ebotica #idfk what this is but i vibed with the idea #this is about Horse Soldier Horse Soldier by Corb Lund #fantasy nsft #sci fi nsft

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scotianostra · 1 year ago

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On 21st May 1650 James Graham, Marquess of Montrose, the chief Royalist military commander in Scotland, was executed.

The former Scottish covenanting commander was captured in 1650 by his enemies and condemned to death for his treachery to the covenanting cause and his military action against them during the 1640s. Rather than facing honourable execution by beheading, the Marquess was hanged like a common criminal. He went to his death defiantly, maintaining his adherence to the Covenant. He also went stylishly, dressed in a black suit, a scarlet coat with silver trimmings, and a beaver hat. In an exceptional move designed to inspire fear and awe in the populace, his head was placed on a spike on the Edinburgh Tolbooth next to the High Kirk (St Giles), his limbs distributed to other Scottish burghs, and his torso buried near the Burghmuir loch, at the east end of the modern Meadows.

The night before his death he wrote the following words;

Let them bestow on every airth a limb,

Then open all my veins, that I may swim

To thee, my Maker, in that crimson lake,

Then place my par boiled head upon a stake;

Scatter my ashes, strow them in the air.

Lord, since thou knowest where all these atoms are,

I'm hopeful thou'lt recover once my dust,

And confident thou'lt raise me with the just.

For royalists, Montrose became a symbol of loyalty and a martyr for their cause. After the Restoration of Charles II in 1660, they took revenge on their enemies in various ways, including the trial and execution of the Marquis of Argyll in May 1661. Meanwhile, a grisly piece of theatre was carefully stage-managed to emphasise the king’s power and authority, and the undoing of the covenanting regime’s acts – what Professor David Stevenson has called ‘the most potent ceremonial celebration’ of the king’s restoration in Scotland.

In January 1661, six ‘grave makers’ were paid £18 Scots for ‘raising’ the corpse. There were actually two bodies, for the remains of Sir William Hay of Dalgety, executed along with Montrose, were retrieved at the same time. Robert Johnstone was paid £3 for showing the burial place, where the exhumation took place by torchlight. Surgeons washed the bones, wrapped them in cloth, and placed them in coffins. The coffins were covered with ‘two best velvet mortcloths’, for which John Kniblo, a local merchant, was paid £24, including ‘drink money’, a customary additional payment for work.

Montrose’s heart was missing, having been removed by sympathisers in 1650, embalmed and kept safe. (Much later, the heart went missing and was lost.) The accounts also show that 100 planks (‘daills’) were made into scaffolding and a stage ‘for the trumpeters for the down taking of my lord Marques head’ from the spike on the Tolbooth. After the coffin containing Montrose’s remains lay in state at Holyrood Abbey for eight weeks, a magnificent funeral took place on 11 May 1661. His remains were buried in St Giles. They were disturbed by later alterations, but after Queen Victoria expressed astonishment in 1886 on seeing a simple slab inscribed ‘Montrose 1661’, the place was marked more formally.

Up until recently you could approach the tomb, I often saw a floraltribue, usually a single rose, left at the side of the Sarcophagus, the area is now roped off, but the flowers are still a regular sight there.

This account of Robert Rae’s expenses, and other documents, were printed and described in an article by J C Robbie, ‘The Embalming of Montrose’, in ‘Book of Old Edinburgh Club’, vol 1 (1908)

#scotland #scottish #history #edinburgh #Royalist #soldier #Covenanter #Military leader #execution #Judicial murder

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goblin-writer · 1 year ago

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Nicole had left he Blaz what felt like a lifetime ago, Karo’s investigation had only cemented her desire to know more of these cults that move in the shadows. It had led her to rushing from bookstore to library and on, to collect any obscure books she may need to help her understand what she was up against. And she had condensed them into pages and pages of notes that, rather than filling two trunks as the book had, filled a smaller suitcase that was stored under her cot at the dig site.

She wiped sweat from her brow, even the nights were too hot here. They had quickly gotten to work, building scaffolding up during the day and digging at night. The first week had been disappointing, sinking rods, digging with spades, and sometimes finding a coin or helmet in the upper layers. It was not unsurprising. The temple they were looking for was said to have been located near a holy spring. And any water in the area would have attracted trade, and armies.

By the third week some of the crew had moved off. They were down to five people. Split in the day and night crews it meant two people digging. But they had found a large stone slab and were trying to find its edges.

And find them they did. The slab was part of a larger structure. Two more flanked it, all they needed to do was find out which side was internal and which external. So, they dug. Larger movements and, as more bricks and slabs emerged, with trowels and brushes. A picture emerged around them. They had found a corridor, one side open with pillars holding parts of the roof, the other internal rooms. The temple was enormous and they would need to expand the dig site to find anything of value.

“The sun will be up soon.” Her fellow researcher, Willow, poked her head up from behind the wall, “I found some coins and an old rusted key. How about you?”

“I suspect you got the better deal. I’ve found some writing on the wall and a lot of sand.” She shook her head. Willow smiled, her dark hair nearly disappearing into the night sky.

“Take the key then, I’m going to be trying to decipher the coins before I go to bed. How much of the writing have you written down?” She tossed the key over.

“Only what I’ve found,” she caught the key and ran her finger along the edge, “Most of it is still hidden below.”

They climbed along the ladders out of the hole and made their way to the gazebo where they stored all their findings. Theorising all the way. Willow stepped inside first, and, before joining her Nicole held the key up to the moon. She saw that the teeth were shaped like a crescent-moon.

Turning the key to align with the moon she saw that it filled the waning moon perfectly. With a twist of her wrist the key completed the moon.

And time seemed to slow. The night burned as bright as midday; the sun still hidden but the moon staring down at her. Full and baleful. She stared back and saw a dark film flick up then down over the surface. On the upstroke she could swear she saw a circle of purple filling most of the moons surface.

Far beneath the tents she heard a rumble. Willow rushed out, looking paler in this light that the warm fire of lanterns.

“What’s happening? Why is it so bright?” Nicole dropped her hand to her side.

“I’m not sure. But it sounded like something opening.”

“Any idea where?”

“Further away from the road.” She couldn’t tell Willow many of the things she assumed, her time on the Blaz was her first confrontation with the fact that these cults had more to them than books or common knowledge let on. She did not know how much her colleague knew, and knowledge had proven deadly on the Blaz.

“Well, while the moon is shining the way we might as well take a look.” Willow grabbed a pair of packs, prepared for treks to other ruins nearby and they headed into the desert. The moonlight burnt like the day, but as they rounded the tents they saw their destination as clear as night.

In a dell, many hours ago, a pillar of moonlight cut through the burning light. A blind spot of that great Pale Eye.

~~~~

Wanted to write a bit more in the world of Karo and the Magpies while is truggle to get draft 2 done because work leaves me so wrecked.

I hope you enjoy this little adventure of resident researcher and academic Nicole as she delves deeper into the mysteries of cults and gods after the main story.

@flashfictionfridayofficial thank you for a delicious prompt

#flash fiction friday #writing #original writing #canon #cults and gods beyond the fabric of space and time #case of the shining jade #ideas for short stories #much love delicious reader

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ourfag · 1 year ago

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Hey; do you write any fic? Love the slab discourse

i DO!!!! more often than i post it thats for sure 😔 im a Very Slow writer and typically when i manage to “finish” a fic it’s because ive chosen to operate under an externally imposed set of parameters with a time limit like a daily prompt thing or a gift exchange. which isnt to say theyre lesser fics! functionally speaking those parameters are accessibility aids to me. having a scaffold like that allows me not only to Create at a much more rapid pace but also to experience Finishing (and therefore being able to Share and receive Feedback on) a piece of written work, the same way a preponderance of benches (or a set of lofstrand crutches someday knock on wood) allows me to experience a less-painful visit to the art gallery. but i think part of the reason im able to respond so well to this scaffolding is because of how spontaneous the process necessarily is—the fic doesn’t have time to sit in my head and cook; it goes straight into the doc. on the other hand most of the WIPs that occurred to me organically give me immense trouble because the process of transcribing the story in my head into a very long string of words is akin to excising a foreign mass from my body, not only in that it is laborious and involves displaying regions of my innards that were simply not designed for contact with open air but also in that there are many more ways to do it wrong than to do it right, and if i don’t want to sew myself up at the end with fragments of the mass still in there, then I Had Better Do It Right.

TL;DR: ya

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askpinkietai · 1 year ago

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The air shimmers around you, and you stand there on the streets of the Gluttony domain, the little blue imp floating in front of you with her arms outstretched, welcoming you to her horrible home. The first thing that hits you is the smell. It literally hits you, the pungent aroma of this domain hangs physically in the air, almost like a fog. It's the sweet smell of rotting fruit mixed with the more foul scent of rotting meat. All this mixes with a heavy presence of grease and deep-fried food. It's inescapable. It's like being in a fast food restaurant with severe health code violations and a landfill at the same time, and there's no exit from either. As mentioned, you're on a street. As you look down it, it seems to be lined with open-air shops and stalls. Large wooden stands offering just about every foodstuff you can imagine. It's not just produce. The nearest to you is an entire large tray filled with gravy, meatballs the size of your fist bobbing and floating in it. Across from it is a booth stuffed with pizzas. Not any shelving or boxes, just dozens of pizzas stacked one on top of the other. You can't even see someone inside manning the booth. Demons walking or floating by don't even look, simply grabbing a slice and stuffing it into their mouth as casually as can be. Other demons are seated at various nearby tables with patchwork umbrellas hanging over them, stuffing themselves with an entire smorgasbord of collected goodies. Behind these stalls are more buildings, ugly monolithing cement and plastic structures. They look slapped together and ramshackle, almost as if they were never intended to be a single structure. Several have large support beams just to keep them propped up against another. Haphazard staircases, ledges, walkways, and scaffolding run through them, linking the various large open windows together. Upon further inspection, they're service windows. Massive quantities of food are passed through them, one direction or another. Bright neon lights in red and yellow line the place, and colourful awnings drape over the windows to try and disguise them as more than simply a hole in a concrete slab. For all the world, the whole place seems like a mad mashup of open-air market, mall food court, and greasy-spoon diner applied to an entire city. Food is everywhere. Not just in the stalls or being handed through the windows. It litters the place. Half-eaten candy bars are scattered down the street, wrappings still on them. Chunks of meat, half-finished sandwiches, and discarded slices of pizza drip from every surface, smeared against the wall or hanging off the awnings. A steady rivulet of grease runs past your feet. Nearby, between a cotton candy stall half-melting from the vapours around it and a booth selling stacks of hamburger patties, is a large outflow pipe. Instead of sewage, a constant flow of molten cheese oozes from it, pouring out into a slow-moving orange waterfall until it drains away into a storm grate below it. Passing demons merely stick their food or even bare hand into it, again with all the casualness of your average pedestrian. All this was expected. What you didn't expect were the flies. They are everywhere, hundreds of thousands of them, hanging in small black clouds over the hazy yellow skyline. Occasionally a small contingent of a dozen or more will break loose and head for the nearest glob of food. This seems to be the only thing that gives the demons pause in their feasting. When a fly lights upon something currently being eaten, the demon neither continues to eat nor shoos the fly away, waiting for it to finish on its own before its meal resumes. This respect and reverence for such filthy pests seems odd until you remember one of Lady Beelzebub's other titles: Lord of the Flies…

#just imp things #Tai art #sort of #Implicious

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condor-solaris · 2 years ago

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I wrote a little here for the tier list.

1 city - Tseila: 10/10, this is the culmination of the first season and looks like a real city, and they were looking for it for 37 episodes, and the Great legacy is still beautiful and terrible, and still just as hot, S tier

Season 2 - Bandalom: I don’t remember how long they searched for it, but it was quick, and it doesn’t really look like a city, just: “there’s a little pyramid here, a few panels with inscriptions there,” B tier

3 city, Sundagat: there is potential, the Yonaguni monument looks interesting, but this potential is not developed, it’s just a city under slabs that slide out steeply, and it was also found too quickly, literally in the first episodes, if I’m not mistaken, as well as this the city is a walk-through and is needed for a “thick” hint at Zia’s future abilities, B tier

4th city - Kumlar - I don’t remember what happened in this city, except that Mendoza and Laguera kissed there (while rescuing the children!!), which infuriated me, and because of which I did not watch season 4. I know this kiss pleases Mendoguerra fans, but I've seen better shows of love, even if it was between brother and sister (trololo). Again the city doesn't look like a city. The double medallion is b***shit, and Ambrosares could have just forced the kids to give up their medallions, but you know, "You know, for kids!", even though it would have worked in Season 1. The holographic copying machine is also b***shit, because it has no effect on future events. The city design looks so meh. F tier.

And now I'm moving on to season 4, which I haven't watched, so I apologize if I say some crap.

5th city - Ophir - did the designers just throw African masks and weapons on a hill? Seriously, that's all? I read on the forum that there is some kind of diamond there that can cure any disease (something like that), and that Ambrozares needs it. I still remember that he was only chasing the group because of the orichalcum, don't make me an idiot. Also, this golden city is built on Lake Victoria, which is currently just finely populated, and apparently this city was noticed 500 years ago, but this is the same nitpick as the line leading to Bandalom. F tier

6th city - Orunigi - Tao had a whole kingdom on a tree, I understand why it was repeated (MONEY). This golden city is needed only for the send a message (I don't know), it is just a passing city, it is literally not needed for anything else. I will not repeat that city is not look like the first golden city, and that I again did not like the design, because trees are not drawn like that, and this small line crossing the trunk, delete it to hell, it infuriates me. F tier

City 7 - Aegis: oh, this is a deconstruction of the city that looks like scaffolding? And there’s also like a mega-mega cannon in the pyramid, which blows apart some kind of meteorite, and its fragments will absolutely not blow the Earth to pieces. It seemed like there was some kind of gate there that reunited all the cities. Why they were needed, etc., it doesn’t matter, no one will think about it. F tier

I'm all for blaming the new golden cities for simply not following the source material. Well, thanks for reading this.

#les mystérieuses cités d'or

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reddogf13 · 2 years ago

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Outlast 2: Deliverance CH 2

On A03 as well

Status: Incomplete

Rated: M - Dead Dove Do Not Eat This takes place in the Outlast 2 universe after all.

Previous chap: CH 1: Death

Next chap: CH 3: Atonement

___________________

~Ch:2 Purgatory~

When Blake next woke the storm was over. Disappointed that he woke at all after what looked like the sun engulfed the land. It was no longer day, but night now. Blake hadn't moved an inch from his seated place up on the roof. Numbly watching the anarchy happening below for the past few hours. Everyone below his gaze started off similarly lifeless. Confused about what to do with their glorious prophet dead. Giving up on doing anything with his body now festering with maggots. As the time crept further along, mayhem took over Temple Gate. Arguments stirred up on who was to blame for this. Rioting followed by mass destruction tore the town apart. The silent night broken by the crying screams of many down below. Other buildings caught on fire so much so that the town was brightly lit with the sky tinted blood red above it all. After all that, they kept trying to kill each other further and Blake had, had enough.

Before the anarchy began they, Of course, focused on Blake first. Sun having just seemed to set at the time with a red edge at the horizon. They threw all sorts of threats of what would happen as soon as they got up there or if he got down. “Skin him.” “Hang him by the loins!” “Throw him to the rack.” “Tie him to a pyre!” “Take his eyes.” “Take his heart.” Gathering together enough to start a fresh scaffold build until the arguing picked up against each other. Blaming each other for not coming to Knoth's call. “You heard him. Why didn't you come out?” “He called you to kill the outsider.” “Why didn't you run after him?” Arguing on who let the outsider get by them to chase Knoth up onto the roof.

Fights breaking out wrecked what little work they did. Marta tried to enforce things to move along, but their anger was soon out of control. Mobs of people fighting broke various objects across town. Ripping things apart to unleash their pent up rage. Broken chunks of wood used for clubs to beat each other. Slabs of metal roofing turned to shields against those with broken glass. Tossing people into twisted bundles of barbed wire. Slamming things around until someone must've knocked over a torch or lamp. A fire grew to engulf a huge part of the town as it spread. They tried to put it out at first. Grabbing tubs or buckets of water from the river to toss along. A rare moment of harmony in the middle of the night for an hour or two. When the fire refused to die they gave up as it devoured too much. The fire stopped when it reached a buffer of river space it could not cross. Blake could hear them all sobbing below about what was happening to them. Soon riling up another massive fight of the blame game.

Hours of shouting gnawing on what little mental strength Blake had left. Temporarily relieved when Marta tried hard to control the populace, but without her weapon she was half the threat she used to be. Crippled further by the broken ankle Blake caused her. Still, the loud Insult tossing was paused to flee from Marta charging into the mobs. Resorting to physically tossing people back into homes despite the physical pain Blake noticed from her wincing. Some obeyed her clear physical order by remaining inside. She choked a few testing her patience by coming back out to hurl more threats. Limping after everyone else scattered around was wearing her down. The inevitable happened where she couldn't drag anyone around anymore. Soon as the mob noticed those too scared to chance her wrath before, vacated their homes to fight once again.

Their screeching voices were all Blake could hear for the next few hours. “Knoth should have killed you heretics!” “The Lord will never forgive you.” “Followers of the Devil.” “Fuck you, I'll piss on your grave!” “Come near me and I'll split your skull.”

It was clear Marta didn't have any control of the rioting members and she knew it too. Standing on the sidelines unsure of what to do since Knoth only commanded her to kill. Cultists were doing that to themselves now with bodies piling atop each other.

Marta attempted again to turn their anger upon Blake. “You fools! Stop wasting your wrath on each other and drag the demon down from up on high.”

One bloody rioting follower turned the tide. “That was your duty! You were to crush him by Knoth's orders.”

Turning onto the one within their reach the mob's angry voices dog piled on. “Why'd you let him get away?!” “You wanted this!” “You always questioned the faith!” “She's a traitor!”

She went wide eyed at such accusations against her. “Shut up you rabid dogs! Don't you dare bare your teeth at me. Fetch the demon and I-”

“Heretic!” “Witch!” a few shouted. “Carve her!” Turned into a full on repeated chanting. “Carve her!” “Carve her!” “Carve her!” Taking up barbed wire for binding. Surrounding her with various weapons in hand. Sickles, knives, sheep shears, axes looking ready to butcher her like a pig for the pot.

Blake couldn't help but watch the encroaching circle close in on Marta. Who, at its center, threatened them to “Get back!” A loop of barbed wire was thrown around her neck to yank her down. She kept to her feet with a retaliating yank of the sharp cord carving her neck. Needing a group to pull back in a tug of war. Until a second wire was looped and she was slammed down into the dirt. Seeing her fate closing in, she resorted to begging. “Wait, no! I always followed the prophet. I-i never! The sinners, I killed them. All of them! I did as Knoth commanded! I did-” Her pleas fell on deaf ears. Her screams did too as they slammed their blades into her. Yanking on her to ruthlessly separate her skin from its muscle. Blake couldn't watch a moment longer. Flashes of Lynn's death by butchering merged with Marta's. He had, had enough. His legs were shaking when he stood.

“STOP!” His command froze the rioting town to look up. “Knoth's barely dead and still you keep killing each other. What's wrong with you all? Can’t you stop for one day?! Look around you. Your homes are burning and most of you are dead in the streets. Aren't you tired of it yet? Go the fuck home!” His legs shook the entire time after being so stiffly seated he feared collapse. Using the pick axe, if it could be called that anymore, he carefully sat back down.

The townspeople looked between one another without a word. Sounds of crackling fires filled the quiet void between them. Looking down they released the wire carving their own hands. Weapons to tools were dropped at their feet. Walking silent back into their homes not a single person wasn't covered in muck mixed bloody wounds. Abandoning their savage execution of Marta. Who, once the crowd was gone, struggled back to her feet. Blake couldn't see her face with it held low, but he could hear her heavy breathing. As she stood still, he was able to see how badly her injuries were. wires still wrapped tight around her neck. Pale skin stained red as bits dangled off from where they partly skinned her. Enough blood dripping off her finger tips to leave a trail in her path. Limping off into the night between buildings with wires dragging behind her. Blake wasn't sure if she'd survive long while covered in so many wounds. Sighing at the silence blanketing the town with dawn around the corner.

Back to watching the world below him he peered through the lit up windows. People sitting lifelessly around dinner tables. Some grabbed rags to at least clean themselves. Others prayed desperately or read the false gospel papers Knoth wrote for them. Each house discovering the next person to blame, the almighty God himself. He saw so many tear down the crosses decorating their houses. Some yelling at God for what happened or why. Some sobbing in front of candle lit holy alters they dare not ruin. Blake twitched a smile when he saw a few destroying Knoth's papers. Many others he couldn't see or, judging by the dark windows, went straight to bed. The last few remaining outside couldn't return home as theirs were turned to a pile of ashes. Sleeping on chairs, benches or gathered in prayer circles. Those breaking up to search out a place to sleep.

When the sky gained a brighter blue hue a light rain storm rolled in. rainfall washing away the blood soaked ground. Snuffing out the remaining fire to smoky embers across the heaps of ashes. Thirsty, Blake took the time to drink up what he could. Slightly refreshed with more old muck washed from him. The idea to come down still didn't cross his mind. He was content to stay on the roof. Until when? He didn't consider. His mind, body and spirit lacked the energy to even do the simplest of tasks. Noting everyone else felt the same this new morning. The explosion of rage last night left everyone exhausted. Maybe even sick as many rubbed their heads of migraines. Turning off bright lights to keep only a few candles up during the storm. No one ate that day from what he could tell. Lightly sipping water here or there being the most. Blake noticed that his own migraine had disappeared despite last night. His skull felt ready to split on the day he killed Knoth. He passed it off as a stress migraine in connection to everything before.

Focusing back on people the prayers were vastly picking up by afternoon. Their blaming turned to pleas of forgiveness. Begging to bring Knoth back to them. A rumor spread somehow that Knoth would be revived like Jesus after three days upon this night, the third night since Knoth's death. Many brightened and prayed inside before coming out to do prayer circles in the rain. Heading toward a church that wasn't burned down to, most likely, pray some more. He's not coming back. Blake laughed on the inside. Damn, three nights already? How long have I been up here? Did I sleep for a whole day? Surprised, but not after how exhausted he was when Knoth was struck down.

The night came and went with no holy revival. Townsfolk continued to pray for Knoth's return. Being so high on the roof it was easy to hear those speaking below. Even whispers floated up on amazingly well acoustics. He heard them talking between each other that maybe they had to “Wait another night?” One of the few suggestions tossed up as to why Knoth was still a corpse. “Did he revive on the mountain he gained his knowledge?” “That's a bit of traveling to get from there to here.” One idea having them all return home. “Is there anything about this in his gospel?” Searching the named papers for any little clue. Those who tore theirs now piecing them back on tables. Grasping at straws only a few returned to trade theories. Giving up to sit back at home.

After that there was no call to action from anybody. Blake felt completely forgotten at this point. Over the next couple days everyone stayed home running on autopilot it felt. They'd wake, eat a can of something, pray, wander around rarely talking with one another. Wander some more, pray again before dinner then sleep. When Knoth died it seemed they all did too albeit at a slower pace. On The dawn of the seventh day Blake couldn't ignore something any longer, he was starving. Very literally and rain water could only last him so long up on the roof. Today was the day he decided to come down.

Using the pick to stand his joints popped from their stiff position. Taking a moment for his legs to stabilize before wobbly heading for the bell tower. Looking down to see that, unfortunately, the stairs were melted and collapsed from the fire. Grumbling with a sigh he headed to the end of the roof instead. Searching for a nearby building he could maybe jump to. The closest available was one of those radio poles Blake hated, but it was also a bit of a leap away. I could make it if I ran. Looking behind to plan out his running jump. Measuring through eyeballing it on if he had enough room. Backing up the entire roof's length he gripped on the pick in hand. After everything He didn't want to abandon it anywhere. Finding its weighty presence comforting in his hands alongside the idea he could crack a skull in one hit. Planning to use it for extra tossing momentum he leaned it far back over his shoulder. This is so stupid. He lightly scolded himself for this plan. Leaning low into his run he held enough energy to make the launching leap. Thrusting the pick over and forward to slam into the pole. Creating a loud metal screeching crunch when he hit the horns.

Taking a deep wheezing breath, he made it. Hanging from the pick handle on a pole that at least got him a whole floor lower. Gingerly he moved to get a grip around. Suddenly dropping after a screech of the horns ripped free from their top. He landed down with his weapon still in hand and the horns crashing down onto him. He got to his feet with a groan covered in minor scrapes.

As if the loud metal scraping noise wasn't enough he attracted the attention of some cultists sitting out on their porches. “The Angels down!” He heard one shout.

Ugh, that nickname stuck? Questioning why, as he thought they'd prefer what Knoth called him. Should have stayed on the roof. Not appreciating having more attention called onto his presence. Looking around at cultists watching him from afar. His anxiety spike calmed when it looked like no one was moving for him. He walked around the burnt church. Making it to the front when his energy was drained. Stopping to sit upon the front porch steps. Diving into his thoughts after having not really tapped into them for a week. I get food and then what? If I get better, then what? Head home? Thinking of how empty it would be without Lynn. Do I want to? Could I move on after this? Could I go back to work without her? Could I do it at all? ... I could wander out into the woods and- Thoughts halted by his skin prickling in alarm. An approaching danger he was slow to check on. Seeing a dark figure enter the edge of his vision he turned his head to see Marta limping over. He would have jolted if his body had the energy for it. She was clean of most her blood, aside from her neck still choked by bits of barbed wire deeply embedded. Sections of it healed between lots of scabbing. The wires extra length before now gone and the remaining ends looking badly frayed from a jagged cut. Her skin stitched back on in many areas of messy patch work. Dressed in a different set of ragged dark navy robes made tight by beaded strings. She stopped not far from him, her towering form eclipsing the sun over Blake.

He asked her. “Going to kill me?”

Her voice rougher than usual. “It's too late.” Asking back. “What now?”

“You're asking me?”

“You struck down our prophet, without Knoth we're all condemned. What are your plans for the world, Angel?”

“I'm not an angel and I'm not Satan either. Don't you get it? All that Knoth preached was bull shit. He's gone and the worlds still here. There's a shit ton of people out there living normal lives. There is no apocalypse or rapture coming or Antichrist in babies. More are born and raised every day. Your all just a bunch of psychopathic murderers hiding behind a bible. Not even a real one at that. Some words from a madman rapist that thinks he hears God. But where's God now, huh? Pfft, he abandoned this place years ago I'm sure.

Me and Lynn didn't come to deliver evil in this rotten town. We came here to figure out what happened to a poor pregnant girl found along the road side and murdered in a hospital bed. Now my wife was murdered and my child- … Maybe didn't exist. I don't know what the hell else is going on around here. Between the lake of dead fish and the disease running rampant. I've seen a lot of shit that I clearly know now wasn't there at all. Maybe I got mercury poisoning. No way Lynn's pregnancy developed so fast overnight. Whatever caused it, I'm sure you bastards are partly responsible, maybe indirectly, but still. Do whatever the fuck you want. The worlds gonna keep going.” He huffed with a look over to a small crowd gathered in the distance watching his and Marta's interaction.

She glanced back to where he did, facing back to inform. “They fetched me. Sayin' the Angel had come down.”

He rolled his eyes. They try to rip her apart then beg for her help. He wasn't going to mention that out loud though. “Why call me Angel now? What made the name stick?”

“Angel O' Death.”

“Ah.” he sighed, connecting the rest. Looking around he saw a lot of it, but after Knoth's death so much more came all at once. Body's strung up to burning piles and heads topped on poles. It was everyday for them, but now they think the embodiment of Death is visiting? At least all of them had a lot less to suffer through. Even if their deaths weren't very peaceful. All the people I've seen caged and tied around here… Remembering back to the places he ran through. People caged or chained to beds. Were they still alive? Did someone care for them at all this past week? Someone should help them. Glancing around as if he could find someone to do it. Only me. The answer echoed in his head. He turned to Marta. “Do you know where any prisoners of Knoth are? That could still be alive?”

She glanced to the side then back to nod. “Yes, spread out in a few places.”

“Can you show me?” He wasn't sure if she'd help at all after what he did, but may as well ask.

“What would happen if I refused an angel?” Turning to limp in a certain direction. “I can.”

Blake took a moment to get up using the pick as a walking stick. Managing to keep pace with Marta even with the heavy weapon. Ignoring the many stares they got while walking past. Some heading back inside. From the sight of him or Marta he wasn't sure. Looking forward to her as she mumbled something. Picking up bits he recognized as more bible verses that she usually spoke before. She went quiet when they stopped before a building. A large barn-like structure with a huge iron lock and chain shutting its front.

“Here are where most are kept… Knoth had the keys.”

“... Ah, well.” He took a deep breath after inspecting the lock. Swinging back the pick to slam it down. Missing the lock he aimed for, instead he bashed a sizable hole into the whole door. Close enough. He shrugged on the inside. Peeking through before he stepped in. It was dark, filled with rusted cages lined against the walls. People maimed, or about to be, shivering wide eyed in the cages at Blake's appearance bearing Marta's staff. Torture equipment lined down the middle covered in blood to bits of meat from the last victim. He stepped down the blood stained concrete to the first cage with someone locked inside. They were starved, but alive enough to lift their head and look at who had entered. Many shivering scared after the loud crash he caused. He inspected the lock, another big iron needing keys. Blake tried his attempt again without missing. His strike sliced the rusted hunk of metal off with a spark. Excited by his success he moved to the next.

The next slave crumpled down under Blake's presence. “Have you come to kill us?”

“No.” He answered with a slice of the lock.

“Has Knoth forgiven us?”

Blake paused. “No, Knoth's dead… I killed him.” He hesitated to answer the second part. Not knowing how they'd react.

He continued cutting the cages free of their locks to at least allow those to leave. He didn't have a plan further than that, he didn't even have one for himself. Those freed stepped out to lightly gather with each other. Watching Blake go down the line. When he was done he walked back out. Passing by Marta outside waiting for his return. Before they could move to the next place the freed slaves stepped out to follow him. Shrinking back at Marta, shooting them a look. Disapproval laced by disgust in her downward gaze.

“Marta.” Blake's call broke her stare. When she moved to lead him onward the slaves cautiously stepped out. Slowly following after him in a closely compact group. He didn't mind that they were following him, but he wasn't sure what they expected.

“You, uh- you guys can do what you want now.” Flashing an awkward smile. “You don't have to follow if you don't want to.”

They looked between each other lost at the idea of wandering off on their own. Blake stretched his shoulders in a subtle shrug. Wincing at his shoulder sending a bolt of pain. Geeze, what was that from? Feeling along his shoulder he could tell it was badly bruised. From what? Shifting away the ragged curtains still covering him along with his clothing. He saw the massive bruise line left from the first day. The imprint matches well to a certain section of the pick axe handle. Oh yeah. Guessing it didn't hurt sooner since he did a strange hibernation on that roof, refusing to move. Things are gonna catch up with me now. Arriving at the next place he roughly swallowed at what he may be about to see. Going ahead of Marta waiting on the side he stepped through the rickety looking shack. Looking around a corner he was startled back by the sight of someone.

Himself, looking unrecognizable in the mirror's reflection. Fuck, I do look like Death. The shredded curtains formed enough of a hooded cloak. Thin from lack of food his face was more gaunt then before. Still mostly pale from the ash not washed away by the rain. Part of it sliced and other parts peeling from being burned. Looking down, parts of his arms were the same. Edges of burnt skin black around the red freshly exposed sections. He grabbed the leftover curtains hanging off him to be rid of it all. Feeling ten pounds lighter already when the fabric was off. Brushing the dead skin about to break away on its own. Stepping forward again he reached a group of poor women. Beds lined up with the women shackled naked to them. They didn't even respond to his presence. He swallowed before stepping in, avoiding looking toward them. Cutting the chains, having the women jolt up. They flinched away from him, understandably. Relaxing only slightly when the others arrived behind him. Doing their best to help by finding bedding to cover them. They joined the growing group of the freed.

On the path of freeing others Blake's crowd grew to a sizable thirty-three freed by the time he was finishing. Others followed, but they were from around Temple Gate. At first Blake feared they would start another fight. Instead they acted pleasant toward those out of their prisons. Reunions were occurring between family's separated under Knoth's rule. Many splitting away to their homes they long thought they'd never see again. Others happily surprised their family's weren't long dead while they were locked away.

Further along his task Blake grew more exhausted. Struggling to keep freeing people of their shackles at each new destination. If Marta didn't have her limp holding her back he would've fallen behind by now. Passing her into another building to the first he saw shackled to the floor. Catching his breath just after holding the pick axe back in readying to hit. Slamming it down on the lock the blade screeched off the metal followed by a train of sparks. A gouge left behind from the hit, but the lock was still intact. He tried again without success. Guilt eating at him when he failed at breaking the person's chains. Raining only sparks off the scraped lock refusing to budge. Noticing his plight the others looked around. One taking a set of keys off the wall to hold out to him.

Blake caught his breath to speak. “Thank you.” Taking the keys to unlock those left. Exiting the building he returned to Marta's side.

This time she didn't move on when he returned. Before he could ask why, she answered. “Those were the last.”

“That's all? … No, I remember more.” Backtracking his steps when he first entered Temple Gate. “There was a basement with cages. Where's that?”

“Those in the compounds down below escaped. Fled out of Temple Gate off to Val I imagine.”

“But Val's dead.”

Marta shook her head. “No, I pray that heretic was.”

#Outlast 2 #Blake Langermann #Marta Outlast #Val Outlast #Temple Gate #Outlast 2: Deliverance #Outlast 2 fanfic

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