#xeno crab

[ask-dr-xeno]

Teenage me explaining the games Portal and Portal 2 to Stanley at 2 in the morning

[prisiidon]

WIP Xenomorph Zora concept >:) I might try a Queen Zoramorph too. Zoramorph lore already under the cut~ *final look will probably change as i want shine it up a lil, add more xeno details and do other poses, this is just a semi-rendered thumbnail!

The Zoramorph in botw/totk (insp from Xenomorphs/Aquamorphs):

• Located between the ocean twilight zone and midnight zone.

• Intelligent and primarily communicates through their own clicks on a frequency hard to pick up, as well as screeching. The Zoramorph Queen’s hivemind telepathy has a hard time reaching this particular one though.

• While underwater, they have the usual xeno stealth, adaptability and speed. The zoramorph also dulls down their own bioelectric field, making them harder to detect unless they are nearby (dolphin or whale zora have a higher chance of detecting them further away)

• Echolocator with slightly improved Ampullae of Lorenzini than other zora

• Weakness: Since there’s no fire underwater, perhaps they’re weak to hydrovent blasts, sudden pressure change, or get weaker when out of water for too long.

• Like usual xenos, the zoramorph cannot be outrun unless you’re like a sailfish zora RIP

• If you mix acid and water, it pretty much combusts and boils. Since xeno blood is acid, it’ll be like bursts of boiling water when they’re underwater. Don’t swim through it! Can cause weapons to corrode.

• A favourite hunting ground when luring a zora is a large, dimly lit abandoned cavern system that was once a zora domain (underwater/airpocketed). They hide the exits.

• Tools useful as a distraction to flee would be aquatic plants/potions similar to puffshroom, muddlebud, dazzlefruit, bomb flower etc. Better if using an underwater bow with these. Also can be tripped out if pufferfish & dreamfish are used lol. (dolphins irl get high on pufferfish, dreamfish causes hallucinations).

• DO NOT GO OUT AT NIGHT. Common sense for zoras, as deep fish/seamonsters vertically travel to shallower waters to hunt at night. Zoramorphs may go higher up!

• Usual xeno Queen, Drones, Warriors etc. Usual facehuggers and ovomorph eggs

• Facehuggers are like weird tailed crab-looking things that hide beneath the sand to latch on unsuspecting victims. These facehuggers are only in deep water.

• This one helped destroy a nearby zora domain but fuckd up the orders. He also cannot be bothered on occasion, and not as good at being as sneaky as the others.

• Another zoramorph colony hijacked his colony and killed their Queen, assimilating them into theirs.

• If it suits, they will cooperate with outside forces against a common enemy or in survival circumstances. This is very rare. But he would like to get back at the enemy Queen that took over, as his original Queen was nice to him :')))

• Ship sinkers

• Their semi-translucent heads look like shark skulls or barrel-eye fish underneath

[choccy-zefirka]

Get it together, Werserian!

(sex pollen with a bit of angst if you squint)

With every flight of steps, further and further away from the deceptive luster of the Governor's chambers, the air grows heavier. Denser. It stagnates around them like oily water, clogging their throats with ever-deepening rot. Even the soft slithers and clicks of Master Haneumann's mechadendrites — as he busies himself with yet another new trap on their path — eventually grow muffled, as if their motley team of investigators were submerged into something viscous. Something smothering.

Abelard grips his chainsword's hilt, feeling the rope-coil of a vein tighten under his jaw. He is never particularly ecstatic to admit that he was wrong, but it's a skill he's had to practice exceedingly often under his new Lord Captain. She has a knack for humbling him, this former smuggler with a quick, cat-like smile and golden eyes, touched by un-Terra psychic flame. And now, too — she was right again. He may have nigh leapt out of his uniform, vehemently defending the honorable Lady Vistenza Vyatt from accusations of xenoheresy to the very last, at this point he'd be a stubborn old fool to ignore the warning signs. Not when the very air underneath her palace leaks with poison.

...And it is not just the overall uneasy sensation of constricting rot. Just as they reach the final few steps, their vision fills with blotches of purple glow. It laps against the threshold of whatever underground chamber they've stumbled into, frothing into wads of wispy cotton that overlay one another, merging and splitting, rippling in an endless pattern that makes Abelard dizzy.

Well, sickness be damned to the void! His place is in the vanguard. Whatever horrors the Governor and her ilk have conjured up, he shall do his duty and shield his Lord Captain from —

Perfectly in sync with his impassioned inner monologue, a hazy figure shambles past, just a few standard Terran meters out of reach.

The entire chamber is cast in this purple gauze, making it difficult to make out individual features, but the glow is thickest closer to the floor, swirling at ankle level, grabbing at the figure like misshapen ghostly hands. From what is visible of their silhouette, the wandering stranger themself is, likewise, misshapen. Seemingly heedless of their surroundings, they are swaying dumbly on two half-bent... legs? And waving around appendages that could only be called arms because Low Gothic lacks the words for what they truly are: one withered, shrunken down to a feeble claw, just strong enough to hold up a dark wineglass; and the other, resembling the pincer of an oversized crab, bulbous and heavy and sagging down till it vanishes in the purple fog. Clothing once sewn for a human is tangled around the wretched being's wobbly knees, and as the silhouette weaves aimlessly round and round, at certain angles it's possible to make out the outline of an engorged penis. Fully exposed and apparently stuck in a perpetual erection.

The disgrace!

A soft noise — not quite a gasp of shock, not quite a gag of disgust — escapes the thin lips of the retinue's new xenos... companion. Yet another criminal against the Imperial Creed whom the Lord Captain has taken under her wing for some bizarre reason. But even here, Abelard would not be... quite surprised to discover someday that her judgement was well-placed.

"Corrupted by She Who Thirsts," the xenos hisses through her teeth.

The Lord Captain nods, and a cloud passes over her usually carefree countenance, pushing down the corners of her soft lips (well, that's how anyone who looks at her would describe them! It's hardly Abelard's fault he has eyes to see!).

"I know these fumes," she says, before abruptly putting out her arm to bar Abelard from standing between her and the Chaos abomination.

"Inhaling them is a disastrously bad idea. If you have helmets with you, or masks, or anything, put them on... And yes, that includes you, Kibellah! Yes, sweetie, I know your cult probably microdosed you on every drug in existence, but I am your Domin and I am not taking any chances! Please be a dear and use that thing with goggles I got you from our last loot haul... I mean resource collection. For the dynasty."

"Yes, Domin."

The young Spinner nods dutifully, and without warning, all Abelard can see (perhaps already addled by Slaanesh's foul vapors) is his youngest daughter, the way he still remembers her from decades and decades ago, with her face crinkled in a pouting grimace, suffering through Quatharina's fussing over her winterwear.

"Now, the rest of you sweethearts!" the Lord Captain points a demanding gilded finger. "Hurry up! We don't want to miss all the cultist-killing fun, do we?"

"The Omnissiah has blessed this unit's respirator with a filtration system of superb quality," whirrs Master Haneumann, sounding as close to giddy as he ever gets.

Van Calox is likewise smug.

"Wise course of action, Lady Lumen, but I can biomantically seal my mouth and nose as required," he says with the smallest of bows.

"And what, die on us when your fancy lungs run out of air?" scoffs Mistress Tlass, busy wrapping a scarf around the lower half of her face. "Don't be a show-off, ice man; wear a damn cover like the rest of us peasants."

"You can borrow my helmet, darling, if you promise not to swab it for bio samples to send to your boss," the Lord Captain offers, diving deep into her seemingly bottomless pack.

She sounds like she's' back to her usual playful chirpiness; but the warmth in her voice does not quite reach her eyes. Her gaze keeps darting to the roiling fumes, unsettled by something she will not divulge.

"The Inquisition already has all the genetic information it requires, duly collected during your sanctioning," van Calox states matter-of-factly.

He is still finishing the last word when Abelard interjects… In such a haste that he himself is taken aback.

"If you must part with your helmet, wear mine, Lord Captain!" he blurts out.

Throne, he must sound like a schoolboy trying to one-up a classmate that's been circling around a girl he likes. What has gotten into him? What is this ridiculous helmet-juggling?!

The Lord Captain is not a territory to be marked, not a bone to snatch from under the nose of a younger pup; she is this genial with everyone; she —

She has graciously accepted the helmet that Abelard has nearly shoved against her chest... And in return, she has unstrapped one of the several knives she wears at her hip (she always makes a little show of hiking up her frock when she does that, which means nothing! nothing!). With a practiced, fluid motion, she's then cut a broad strip of fabric off her cloak... which she is now handing to Abelard. And he’s scarcely even noticed!

"I am out of spare gear, I am afraid, but will you kindly accept this as a mask, my dear Seneschal?"

"Of course, Lord Captain."

Abelard makes every effort not to sound too breathless when he accepts this... token of hers. And even if his words do come out hoarse and winded, the retinue can always write it off to the sweltering air. Surely!

She gently pulls at the front of his coat, coaxing him to lean down. He obliges with the instinctual efficiency of an advanced servitor, and she secures the fabric under his eyes, her golden-tipped fingers deft and lightning-fast.

Of course a former criminal would be this adept at crafting makeshift disguises to conceal one's face.

Abelard supposes that, as a decorated veteran of the Navis Imperialis, he should be outraged at the notion, but his days of being outraged at his mistress are so long past him... He even lets his self-discipline lapse enough to relish in the soft, swift touches of her hands over his temples and around his jaw — and in the scent of the fabric now covering his nose.

Through the Emperor's grace, and the benevolence of his Lord Captain, this sliver of cloth — which smells like her, oh, damn his wandering mind, it smells like her! — protects him throughout the fight that follows. Allowed at last to jump in front of his mistress, he could not be gladder to shield her, to take the brunt of the damage upon himself, while she and Mistress Tlass rain fire and lightning from cover, and van Calox and Master Haneumann support them with scorching laser bursts.

Ever the dutiful Seneschal, marked with a piece of Her Ladyship's cloak, he readily takes on every monstrosity from beyond the Warp, every crazed cultist. He unleashes his chainsword, sparks dancing hungrily off the spinning blades — second in his zeal only to Kibellah, who has lost herself yet again in her vortex of crimson. But formidable as the young Spinner is in doling out death, Abelard gets the honor of skewering the heretic he once respectfully bowed to as Governor. With not a flinch of hesitation, with not a moment wasted, he ends her deplorable existence before she can raise a grasping clawed hand against his Lord Captain.

Yet the battle is not over, and eventually, in a single terrible instant, his mistress' protection slips. A daemonette, summoned by the Governor's so-called "assistant", lunges at him, clawing at his face.

Between one tortuous heartbeat and the next — between two twists of a jagged drill through his heart, which wash the back of his throat with copper — he realizes that the cursed thing has torn off the fabric.

Next thing he knows, there is a flurry of spiky, corpse-grey limbs, and he is toppled to the floor, into a sea of stained cushions. His elbow presses into something glistening and decidedly phallic-shaped. A discarded bottle rolls away from him into the bowels of the purple fog — which, down here, is at its most condensed. It shoves its way up his nostrils like a pulsating slug; it bleeds past his gritted teeth. A wave of a thousand red-hot needles chokes him, and then dissipates. He barely registers a droplet of drool from the daemonette's hungry leer splatter down on his bare cheek, as nausea begins to rock him from within.

No! No, no, no! He won't let this foul miasma overtake him! He won't become a mindless, lecherous beast like that unfortunate in the fog! He has served in the Navy for over a hundred years! He has been showered in bubbling, liquid meat that was once his comrades-in-arms in the wake of an acid belch from xenos jaws! He has stood beside two Rogue Traders as they battled twisting nightmarish masses of eyes and teeth! He can keep his mind intact... He... He can...

With a muffled cry of "I am here, Amic'Abelard!", Kibellah sweeps the daemonette, and then her deranged summoner, into her dance of swooshing silver and raining red, and soon enough, Abelard is drenched in far more than drool. Ah. Just like in his war memories.

He gathers up every last ounce of his brain matter, which now seems to be floating in purple ooze, and forces himself to focus on the dark blood clots that droop off his sleeves. On getting up. On wiping off the viscera... Probably to Kibellah's disapproval, but when he tries to decipher her facial expression past her goggles, it is as if he's looking at her from the wrong end of a telescope... Or... Or kaleidoscope?

"That's all of them, I think. Now we must return upstairs and tell the court that... Abelard! Are you all right, my darling?"

The Lord Captain's voice.

Abelard knows, of course, that she has plenty of pet names to spare, for her allies and enemies alike (particularly sugary in the case of the latter). It's a habit she shares with that Heydari character; as if it's something they teach to aspiring thieves. A quirk of character, nothing more. Yet right now, with the heretical cult's fumes seeping through his lungs — no, no, he can resist, he will resist! — as he hears the word "darling", shaped by those soft, beautiful lips... Will they feel as delicate as rose petals on his skin?... Oh, right now, every sound she makes in his vicinity, every softest breath, stokes a rising fever underneath his skin. His trusted armor suddenly feels too tight, too clammy; more constricting than the poisoned air around him ever did. If he could peel it off, if he could bare himself before his Lord Captain...

Abelard raises a shaking hand to his throat, aiming to strangle himself for this unspeakable heresy. What is he thinking?! He... He breathed in too deep, didn't he? It's affecting him; damn, damn it all, he is supposed to be stronger than this! The vanguard, the shield, the dynasty's first line of defense!

He tries to straighten his back, to stand at attention, to remember who he is. Yet his throat still runs dry; and a wild pulse still radiates down from the pit of his stomach. His innards feel pulled taut, like strings on one of those antique lutes he has seen played on garden worlds. And the song only has one word.

Want.

Want.

Want.

"That is not his blood, Domin."

"Yes, I can see that, dear... Oh. Oh shit."

The rough, hoarse drop in her voice does nothing to sober Abelard up. Instead, it makes him think of those metal-capped fingers, so gentle with him but moments ago, locking around his throat; of her elegant boot, stepping on his chest with enough force to crack plasteel armor; of him thanking her all the while, out of air and out of reason...

No. Resist. Resist!

"I feel perfectly well, Lord Captain," Abelard clings on to every laboriously enunciated syllable, as if he were one of the junior officers desperately pretending not to be hungover as he reprimanded them during morning roll call.

"It will take more than a little smoke to shake this old officer."

The golden Aquila upon his mistress' brow makes it impossible to see if she is frowning. But her eyes do narrow, and so does the line of her lips.

"Please, darling. I thought we'd agreed that you'd trust me."

Throne, he'd trust her. He'd trust her to toss him back onto those cushions, to pick up one of the many ritualistic implements scattered all over the floor, and to ravish him with it until he is too sore to walk. Please, please, please —

Somewhere far away from his burning body, on another planet, he feels himself being steered away from the cushions, away from the smoke.

He must have made a few drunken stumbles on his way up the first few steps, because he hears the warped, underwater bubble burst of a laugh. Idira bloody Tlass.

Then, another sound comes, bobbing back and forth, further and closer away, like a paper boat in a rain-swollen gutter.

The xenos is speaking. He thinks.

"So even the most respected mon-keigh elder is quick to give in to his base instincts."

"Yrliet... Please not now. We need to get him somewhere he can lie down and sleep it off."

"I do not need to lie down!" Abelard protests... And chokes on his own half-slurred words, as something, once again, moves in the fog.

It is not the... randy crab creature from before; that wretch plopped pathetically down into unconsciousness shortly after their fight with the cultists began. Does... Does Abelard look the same to an outside eye? Are his clothes still on? He believes they are. He can feel them press against him, robbing him of the freedom to move, to hold, to intertwine...

Blast it all! Focus! Focus, Werserian! What is that thing slowly gliding towards him?

Slowly, the dancing kaleidoscope before his eyes assembles itself into the soft curves of a marble statue. He vaguely recalls seeing them scattered around the cultists' layer: marble likenesses of young women, all in various stages of undress, with an old Terran toga carelessly draped over one shoulder at the very best. And now one of these outrageous figures has sprung to life, slid gracefully off her pedestal, and is coming closer and closer, white curls cascading down her shoulders, scant clothing flowing behind her, its carved folds now softer than silk.

A second statue follows her, waves of purple smoke rolling back to reveal her round bare breasts, the tantalizing soft mound of her stomach. A third walks close beside her, and her lips look so soft, so humanly warm when they curve into a smile on her round marble face. The Lord Captain's face.

Abelard, in vain, croaks for air. They are not real; they cannot be! He swears he's had, and weathered through, more convincing hallucinations during warp jumps!

And yet. Here they come. Reaching for him. Following him upstairs. Falling in rhythm with his heavy, shuffling steps.

And every single one of these living statues — fully rendered in milky white stone, save for the gold adornments on the forehead and at the fingertips — looks like the Lord Captain.

He saw her fully nude exactly once, when her bath chambers were flooded with a squelching stream of mutant blood.

When he burst in, ready to shatter the spine of every single enforcer that had let this happen, he thought of nothing but protecting his mistress, who stood there, with one hand on her hip and only stains of gore for modesty, looking more bemused than terrified. But to his astonishment — and to his shame, oh, Emperor have mercy, his heretical visions are bringing him so much shame — his memory has retained even the tiniest details of what she looks like, underneath her usual shimmering cocoons of lush brocade. He can still trace the placement of birthmarks on her breasts and stomach — which the statues also have, as a smattering of tiny golden flakes. He remembers those lovely little folds above her waistline, and just over the bushy curls between her legs. The soft dip of her hips. The dimples on her thighs. And now, it is all coming back. Fully rendered in living marble.

While he keeps on staring over his shoulder, transfixed — no better than a foolhardy sailor from the ancient tales, falling prey to the sirens of Terra's long-gone oceans — the real Lord Captain, fully dressed and oblivious to his lecherous fantasies, keeps on

talking.

"I have dealt with Slaaneshi cultists before. I know what they do to their victims. Don't look at me like that, Heinrix, you'll burn a hole in my best dress! Don't your people have it all on file? How I was captured by a cult and escaped to lead a glorious life of crime?... Anyway, I don't think he's inhaled enough to start peeling off his own skin...''

"A profane perversion of sacred flaying in the Undying One's name!"

"Yes. That. Kibellah, Idira, will you watch him as he recovers? I really need to settle this mess."

"It shall be done, Domin."

"Only if I get to make fun of the old man later!"

"I do not need watching over! I am perfectly capable of —"

Abelard tries to move his mouth, but no words come out. The real world — or what he thinks might be the real world; some manner of upstairs bedchamber where he was steered, half-blind with lust — dissolves into a cloud of jittery specks, like white noise on an idle cogitator screen.

If Idira, or Kibellah, or anyone else, is here with him, he cannot see them anymore. The only beings that exist now, that matter now, are the marble twins of his Lord Captain.

They smile so sweetly as they gaze down upon him. There’s at least… half a dozen of them, crowding round the lone island of solid matter — a bed? he remembers those — where he lies, limp and useless, half-reduced to liquid, floating in nothingness like space debris.

White knees sink into whatever mattress he's been placed on. Golden fingers travel down his throat, soothingly cold against the feverish flame of his skin. Lily-petal lips trail along his jawline; an ethereal voice giggles into his beard.

He pants, desperately feeding air to his hammering heart. One of the statues crawls across his lap to stare into his glazed-over eyes, teasing his parched mouth with an almost-kiss. His panting turns to moaning. Blood rings in his ears, blooms over his sweat-slick skin, rushes down to his crotch.

Some last fraction of reason clings on to the walls of his smoke-filled skull, like a rebellious lower-decker, being vented by the enforcers out the airlock. Where is your honor?! it wails, unheard in a sea of mind-numbing miasma. Where is your dignity?! These are daemonic manifestations, they should have no power over you! You serve the Emperor's Anointed!

There are scarce, fleeting moments when he almost heeds the voice... But the shades of the Lord Captain, so resplendent in white and gold, speak to him louder.

"My darling Seneschal," they whisper in unison, while many pairs of hands — far beyond his current capacity for counting — touch him tenderly through gaps in his armor.

"My sweet Abelard. You have been so faithful. So steadfast. And as a reward… For as long as you live, as long as you serve, I will always be there. Nothing will take me away from you. Neither sickness, nor murderous heretics. With me, you won't ever have to suffer loss again."

"Promise," he whimpers, clutching at the bedsheets, arching his back. "Promise that you won't leave me..."

"I promise, my darling, I won't," coo the voices. And the mouths from which they trail — sweet as nectar in a lily's heart — press against his lips, drink in the wild beating of his pulse under his jaw and on his inner wrists, lick along his shaft through straining fabric.

The release comes not as some violent burst of bestial fury, the last shattering blow against his self-respect — but as a gentle sigh of relief. The marble arms wrap around him one last time, and melt away into darkness.

***

Idira has been pointedly facing away from the old man throughout this whole debacle. Hearing her little whispers cackle and cheer after each of his moans was bad enough, thank you very much.

She's turned Kibellah to face away, too, though the pale little thing is much less perturbed by all of... this. The only thing that would have moved her from her weird little trance — sitting on the floor cross-legged, cut-cut-cutting away — would have to be something... meatier. Like the poor bastard turning himself inside out, splashing glistening red goop everywhere.

Well. Tough luck. All he's gotten away with was a boring little wet dream. Idira did not know he still had those in him!

There might be joke material in there somewhere, but she'd rather he buy her drinks when he comes to, so she might forget all the shit the whispers sensed in his messy thoughts. Lily petals, jiggly thighs, gold and marble... What a jumbled load of garbage.

She tells Her Little Ladiness just as much when she returns, vox caster in hand.

"…Yes, I have settled everything on Janus, provision shipments should resume shortly. Be a darling and project a report to Footfall, all right? Tell Liege Tocara that I will be honoring the deal. I accept payment in gold and in picts with live Incendia Chorda reaction. Thank you, Zach darling! You are a treasure!"

After she is done crooning over the vox (she even blows the old astropath a kiss before signing off), Little Ladiness turns to her other favorite old man's bed.

"Did I miss anything?"

"The residue of unholy vapors is gone; Amic'Abelard is partaking of the peace of oblivion," Kibellah sing-songs in that creepy voice of hers.

Little Ladiness turns greyish-pale.

"She means he's asleep," Idira explains. "Not dead."

And then adds all the stuff the whispers have been gossiping about, for good measure.

Little Ladiness claps her hands together.

"Well, that's amazing! Nothing shameful in a little wet dream! And trust me, it could have been so much worse!"

The whispers swirl around her, curious. Flashes of pink and red scorch Idira's eyes. Naked bodies, most of them just skin and bone, writhing and grinding against each other; tears bleeding from glassy eyes; moist, glistening skinless forms, on their knees, screaming. Then, a rising tide of flame, swallowing an entire planet, nothing left to save.

Little Ladiness winces. She's a psyker too; she must have sensed...

"You saw, then," she murmurs, avoiding Idira's gaze. "I was lured into my hive world's spires, with other..."

Her pretty lips curl as she mimes some Arbites bastard.

"...Juvenile delinquents. We were promised work, in exchange for pardoning our thievery. They did the same to us as Vistenza did to her poor servants. I gathered up the survivors and ran. Never looked back. Not until years later. Shared the coordinates with the Inquisition; thought there were still people to save. Turns out, the rot ran so deep by then, the only solution was Exterminatus."

Her voice drops to a resentful whisper. Good thing ice man is not around.

"So they told me."

"Hah!" Idira laughs bitterly. "You are right, a wet dream is nothing! The old man sure is lucky!"

"Yes." Little Ladiness looks up at her at last, eyes huge and wet as amber sap.

"Can I have a moment with him?"

"Our duty is done, Domin," Kibellah says solemnly.

Idira sighs.

"Old man's all yours. I'm off to get buzzed. Preferably on something not from this shithole of a palace."

***

When Abelard awakens, the disgusting spot at the front of his pants will have dried up enough to conceal, by standing around at awkward angles, until they are back on the ship and he is able to belt out some excuse or other and rush to his quarters to change.

Other than that, nobody from the retinue will ever speak of his disgrace. Van Calox will inquire pointedly after his health; Master Haneumann will make one of his endless remarks about the inferiority of organic flesh; and Idira will give him a lingering stare — odd, but not much odder than all the other stares she's ever given people. Beyond that, he'll be allowed to resume his post like nothing happened. Like he did not succumb to heretical filth. Nothing will remain but fragmented memories. The imprints of his delirium that he will quietly carry as a brand of shame.

He will mostly excel at it, too; ever the unshakable Seneschal... Except for one moment, once they all reconvene on the bridge. In that moment, that little lapse back into purple haze, the Lord Captain — flesh and blood, warm, enveloping him in that sweet scent again — will throw all of her significantly shorter self at him, and hold him in an embrace.

"Thank you for putting yourself on the line in that fight with the cult," she will say, with a startling sincerity. "That was very gallant of you, my darling. And I am... glad that you recovered."

And it is then that Abelard will remember a most scandalous dream he had, when his hallucinatory lovers had already left him be and the fog in his mind was beginning to clear. He will remember how, in his still-woozy mind, his Lord Captain sat by his bedside and held his hand.

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Crab Boil

Author's note: I'm going to be trying to do Mermay 2025. thanks to @c-u-c-koo-4-40k for letting me borrow Khopesh and Lullaby. This was a fun collab.

Summary: Khopesh and Claude meet and get some free food.

Warnings: LMK if I need to add something

tagged: @sleepyfan-blog @c-u-c-koo-4-40k @i-am-a-dragon34 @ms--lobotomy @jaghatai-khock

tagged: @kit-williams @whorety-k @bleedingichorhearts @thevoidscreams @gra93fruit-blog

Tagged: @felinisnoctis @bispecsual, @egrets-not-regrets @nereidof40k @finchly-tintinnabulation

Claude had finished training with Anrir- when he spotted a dark navy blue scaled form- similar to Anrir- but less scarred. Claude tilts his head and says, “who are you?” 

Khopesh turns towards the larger- and younger space marine, he smirks and uses his voice mimicry as he retorts, also curious to see who this Raven Guard is, “Who are you?”

Claude rears back a little- somewhat startled to hear the Night Lord throw his voice back at him, but he’s had some of his brother-cousins do voice mimicry to such a freaky degree and has since gotten over the initial knee-jerk violent reaction.

“I go by Claude,” He says carefully as he tilts his head slowly coming closer to the Night Lord, “What’s your name?”

Khopesh is surprised by how well Claude is reaction as he tilts his head back and smiles, hes more than a little bewildered by how passive the reaction he’s getting his as he continues to use his mimicry, “I go by Claude, Claude! Claude!”

He’s looking for a more normal reaction out of the Raven Guard? As he goes back to his normal voice as he says, “I go by Khopesh! You’re strange… and big. Most take a swipe when they hear their own voice bouncing back.”

Khopesh has been swimming around, kind of wriggling and squirming, turning upside down, but keeping his eyes on Claude. Its kind of weird how calm this Raven Guard is with his antics.

Claude shrugs as he says honestly as he tilts his head the other way as he watches Khopes swim about. “You aren’t the strangest person I’ve met. I’m a Primaris- we tend to be Big.”

Khopesh hums and sings to himself as he continues to swim at odd angles- keeping a watch on Claude, “Pri-mar-is!”

He tastes that word- so strange, so new, so strange. “So! Why do you wanna speak with me big birdie? Not, like I’m complaining, but usually Ravens are Ever so… standoffish- or snobby.”

Claude listens to that with a snort- some of his brothers could be rather … high handed, despite the amount of blood and sins that soak their hands. He focuses on Khopesh again as the First Born Scout Night Lord Darts in close before swimming away again as he says, “As if we don’t hunt squirming squealing things in the night.”

Claude nods, all astartes kill- be they heretics, traitors, xenos or other things. Some kill for honor, some kill for the sake of it. Some for protection of others. The way that some of his so called ‘honorable’ older brothers claimed that what the did was for the betterment of the Chapter. Tch. Hypocrites.

“My kind are just more Honest about how Monstrous we are~” Kohpesh continues to say with a sharp, fanged grin.

Claude is rather pleased that his shape shifting his doing really well and he can’t help but say, “Ah good, you think I’m a Raven Guard, it’s working.”

Khopesh tilts his head and then surges close- almost touching him eyes wide with a sharp smile, “What’s working?”

Then he darts off with an off putting cackle, “Oh ho ho! You are fun! And you’ve got secrets!” Khopesh flips over backwards and coming right back up as he spins around Claude with delight.

“Don’t you have secrets?” Claude points out mildly, “ And doesn’t everyone have at least a few secrets?”

Khopesh laughs in delight and nods, “You got me there!”

He swims in circles and is upside down again, as he continues to talk with Claude, “But still! Why come up here to little old me? Am I breaking any rules by swimming here?”

It is bothering Khopesh a little bit that there is a Pri-mar-is Raven Guard Scout talking to him when he doesn’t think he’s done anything to upset the balance of things. And Anrir would give him such a talking to if he had… gotten caught doing something.

“No…?” Claude says confused as he tries to recall the rules near this area of the ocean and shrugs, “you just seemed interesting and I wanted to see if you’d talk to me.”

“Aww! Aren’t you sweet!” Khopesh coos at the younger marine.”

Claude shrugs a little, “Also- I wanted to warn you- there is a shoal of Black Templars swimming nearby during their migration. Shouty bastards.”

“And bleh. Templars. Gross,” Khopesh says wrinkling his nose in disgust and shakes his head. “Hm… Say…. Do you like, crabs?”

“I do like crabs,” Claude says with a grin as he perks up and swishes his tail excitedly.

Khopesh hoots in excitement and says, “Yes!”

“Wanna go hunting grabs?” Claude asks him, tilting his head a little.

“Not right now,” Khopesh says as he shakes his head as he asks, “Tell me! Have you ever had steamed crabs? From a seafood boil? Slathered in butter?! With a shell that crunches just right? Mmm! ‘Cause I know where we can get some!”

“I have not - but that sounds delicious,” Claude says perking up a little. “Where do we go to get that?”

Khopesh grins in a vaguely unsettling manner, as he leans in really close to Claude and gets his voice close to a stage whisper, “Up the coast- a little bit away from the Port City, but still near the water. There is a small… ah… I forget the common word for it? Bairn? Barm? It has those weird four legged creatures with sharp heavy toes and long faces!”

Claude sees the way Khopesh waves his hands enthusiastically as he smiles as he sees the way Khopesh seems to grow animated. “The human there feeds me and we sing together! I also always get more treats when I bring my brothers, but they’re always away right now? Sooo what d'ya say? Up for some crab-singing?”

“Sure! I’m up for food-” Claude says, he could always eat- and he blinks- as he remembers something about Anrir speaking about some of his Claw- an excitable- *oh* so this is Khopesh. “Oh! I was trained by an Apothecary named Anrir on singing and Night Lord Siren stuff. Do you know him?”

He grins at Khopesh, who seems a little strange- but he doesn’t seem that bad, all things considered. At least for now. Khopesh can’t stop his jaw from dropping as his eyes go wide, “You’re kidding!”

He swims around Claude in an animated circle, “Anrir is my Night Lord Sire!” 

“Oh- that’s neat.” Claude says with a smile, Khopesh’s frantic, excited energy has infected him a little.

“That means we’re practically Claw already!” Khopesh continues.

“Er. I think Anrir mentioned something about a Claw once?” Claude says confused as he raised his clawed hands.

Khopesh laughs a little at his confused expression, “pfft! Not those claws! Although- I’ve got them too!”

Khopesh shows off his wickedly sharp nails, “Naw, a Claw is a group of Night Lords who shoal together! Basically it’s like a Pod, but if you saw Claw you know it’s made of Night Lords.”

“Oh! That makes a lot of sense.” Claude says with a nod as he feels rather enlightened with Khopesh’s explanation.

“Like how a group of Salamanders is a Nest. A group of Fists is called a Fortress,” Khopesh continues to say sounding 100% confident and proud as he continues to explain things to Claude, feeling rather happy to be a teacher, rather than the taught for a moment, “A group of Hydras is called a Facade, and a group of Templars is called a Toothache.”

Claude laughs at the last one, “Toothache? Not a headache?”

Khopesh cackles at that and continues to speak, “hehe! Anrir is our Claw Leader! There’s about … hmmm… Me- Karlsy, Him, Ghosk,... Four! Four of us!”

“Although… you are the second Night Lord that I’ve met on Ancient Terra.” Claude says with a hum.

Khopesh had been naming people and tapping his fingers as he’d spoken. “Though- Anrir has made and trained thousands of Neophyte Night Lords! And he’s older than the Legion itself! He’s even adopted a few Ravens over the years! Though… right now it’s just us, here, on Ancient Terra.”

“That’s really interesting- so he’s Terran born. Huh. That explains the accent.” Claude says musingly.

“Enough about history! There’s buttered crabs on the line! Lets go!” Khopesh says as he grabs one of Claude’s arms and tugs him in the direction of his beloved Lullaby.

They swim up the coast until they come to the place Khopesh had described. A farm with horses. There’s white smoke coming out of the house’s chimney. And a buttery smell in the ocean air becomes stronger and stronger as they approach. Claude swallows the saliva that coats his mouth.

Claude’s stomach growls and he licks his lips a little as he says, “That- smells really good.”

“Just follow my lead Claudey.” Khopesh says while he’s still under the water, before he pusehs himself upwards until he breaches the surface and lets out a trill that seems half-way between a mer- and a human song. It carries a voice that is neither Khopesh nor Claude’s.

Claude tilts his head a little and blinks as he notices that the voice seems to reverberate back and forth with the new voice and Khopesh’s own voice. How curious. He tilts his head the other way as he follows after the Night Lord a beat or two more slowly.

The door to the house opens, it’s on a higher level and there’s a small beach that slopes down to the water where the boys are. But in some areas it’s more like the land stands higher than the sea. 

An unknown voice, in a jovial tone, “Hark! Is that, that pale Ghostly black eyed Scoundrel! Barking my own voice back at me?!”

A human baseline leans over the fence that borders the small cliff that drops down to the ocean. Unknown baseline, their voice still playfully teasing tone, as they spot a grinning Khopesh, “Why yes it is! Tis! Tis indeed! Honestly, I feed you once and like clockwork, here you are. Again!”

Lullaby looks over at Claude and nods towards him before looking back towards Khopesh, their eyes sparkling with delight, “And you’ve even brought another friend in on your schemes, you slimy cheeky thing!”

They step a little closer as Claude and Khopesh swim closer in the air, “Ah, whatever shall I do?” 

They eye the pair of tongs in their hands as they lean dramatically against the railing and clacks their tongs cheerfully and for emphasis.

“Ummm. Hello. I go by Claude.” Claude says he has noticed the playful way they speak with a shy smile, “What may I call you? Friend of Khopesh?”

“You are so very polite. Much more polite than the fella with batwings who tried to eat my tongs in one bite.” Lullaby says, “You can call me Lullaby, s’not my given name, bit it’s what everybody calls me, and I happen to like it.”

Lullaby looks Claude over and says, “You’re a big ‘un! I suppose I’ve got no choice but to give ya’ll extra crabbies. Not like that isn’t what you had planned, right Khopesh?”

Khopesh shrugs, as he grins, “Ah well! Guess I couldn’t hide it! You’re just too clever~”

“Flattery will only get you so far! Come now, lets see what you’ve learned~!”

“Oh! Ooh! Guess this one!” Khopesh straightens up proudly and immediately starts making a weird warbling … is it a bird… call??

Lullaby hums a little as they try to figure out what it is, “... Is that a sea bird? Not a gull… Hum… How curious.”

“The sound is that of a magnificent Frigate bird.” At least- that’s what Claude thinks it is, he states that out Loud. And from Khopesh’s reaction- that’s the truth. Lullaby seems delighted by being able to get it after they were stumped for a few minutes trying on their own to come up with what it was.

“I have an animal sound.” Claude offers. 

Lullaby turns to him, “Oh ho?” Lets hear it!” They say with a smile.

Claude lets out a warbling call of a deep ocean creature.

Lullaby tosses a grab towards Claude who catches it with a grin and his mouth and starts to eat it- shell and all, “This is quite tasty lullaby, thank you.”

Khopesh pouts a little that Claude got some Crab before he did. Lullab smiles at the older Space Marine and tosses a crab at him, “And one for you- since you stumped me.”

Khopesh catches the crab with a triumphant noise, “YES MINE!” 

He messily devours the crab, shell included as he asks, “more please!”

Lullaby laughs a little as they say, “Alright, alright! Got any new sounds.” They look over at Claude. “If you know the call of the Frigate Bird, maybe you know others? I love my land beasts a little too much to ever leave them, so sadly, the are some animals that I’ll never get to see or hear. So, I always appreciate Khopesh bringing those sounds to me when he visits.”

Claude thinks for a moment as he mimics the sound of another deep sea creature he’s heard recently- the warbling whistle of a humpback whale and a giant squid. Khopesh wriggles as he calls out, “Ah! I know- one of those is a big ass squid, and the other’s a whale- humpback!”

Khopesh mimics Claude’s mimicry with near perfect whistle- Claude is impressed by Khopesh’s ears.

“Ooo! Spooky,” Lullaby tosses a crab to both of them. “By the way, how are your other brothers Khopesh? Is this a new arrival?

“The other members of the Claw are doing their own thins right now. And noope! Claudey and I just met! But he’s just so funny, I just had to show him buttered crabs!” Khopesh explains as he gestures as he talks and leans against Claude a little bit.

Lullaby looks towards Claude, “Khopesh thinks high of you them! Well, I’ve got a bucket full of crabs and nothing else to do. Oh! And I’ve got some pumpkin muffins baking right now. They’ll be ready soon, do y’all wawnna hang around ‘till then? Maybe show some of your other tricks?”

Khopesh grins before diving under the water, only to resurface into a jumping backflip. Claude realizes that Khopesh is showing off to Lullaby, in a distinctively courtship like manner. Claude smothers a grin as he lets out an echoing call and uses a bit of psyker to do an illusion of Dolphins- he’s going to help Khopesh court his beloved and play wing man for him.

Lullaby is stunned, “That’s wild y’all are amazing!”

Khopesh is beaming with Pride as he puffs out his chest, while Claude smiles softly, “Thanks Lullaby.”

After they finish the bucket of crabs and show off their forms- Claude helping Khopesh to look more impressive and back him up. They finish the muffins as well- a delightful baked goods, it is getting late and Lullaby needs to retire.

“Thanks for spending time with me. As usually y’all are welcome to come back when it suits.”

They address Claude specifically, “I usually catch a bucket of crabs every weekend and boil ‘em up. So feel free to stop by again. Or just follow Khopesh. He always seems to know when I’m making something tasty.”

“Thanks for the offer! I’ll be sure to come by again,” Claude says with a friendly nod, “it was nice meeting you.”

“Same dear, y’all have a good night.” Lullaby says with a nod and a smile. 

They head back into their house to bed down for the night. 

Claude and Khopesh swim off and Khopesh smiles at him, “I told you that Crab singing would be worth it. They even stayed for an extra hour tonight! And sang songs with us!”

He looks back up at the lit up windows. He says more quietly, a look of intense longing on his face, “I just know… that their songs would be even more beautiful if…”

Claude watches Khopesh slowly, carefully, he interrupts Khopesh’s thought processes as he doesn’t want another missing woman to end up with a mer-tail and carrying a Night Lord’s Child. Then he’d have to tell someone something.

“Crab singing was fun! However- they seem happy on land… perhaps… they might sing more lovely in a different form, but would they be happy as a Mer?”

Khopesh sighs and wilts a little and shakes his head, “No, at least not right now. They have their own Claw- I mean family! Their gene-parents live nearby. I’ve seen them. And they love their land beasts! And the land beasts love them. Their specific long face creature tried to bite and kick me when I got closer to them one day while they were on its back.”

Khopesh gestures at the horse. Khopesh shuckles, “it was funny to see them scold it like a baby. And then give it kisses because it was protecting them. I… suppose, I just wish it was easier to spend more time with them.”

He looks sullen and morose at that. “They are most active during the day- and my Kind… are more active at evening and Night. These times at sunset are one of the few times we can meet… I cannot leave my Claw anymore than they can leave theirs… but Maybe there is some other way… I just haven’t found it yet.”

Claude nods as he listens, “It’s hard being parted from the one you love and wanting to be with them- but aso be with your kin. Uh. I know Anrir did… something… and has his Draga with him. But well.”

Claude shrugs a little, still uneasy about some of the red flags that Anrir was showing, but he didn’t know how to bring them up without upsetting the other Space Marine. Or if it was his place to say anything. Perhaps he should talk to Lenora and Erroix? They seem to have a healthy and happy relationship.

“Anrir is clever- but I think sometimes his advise is… should be taken with caution. I have seen humans wear something called.. Sun Glases? Which helps keep their eyes protected from the wrath of the sun. We can fly in the air… who knows? Perhaps you will find a way? Oh- and the long faced, four legged creatures, I think Olly called them Horses?”

“Right! Horses! Gah! Why do I always forget that. Ah…” Khopesh replies with a groan. “... Anrir did manage to get his Draga… but well. Draga did not have all this.”

He gestures towards the table loving home and farm. “More than anything I… I want to just be with them… I will speak with Anrir, not about changing them, now, but … how to be with them as it is now. And maybe some day, when their family is lost to time, as all things must be, maybe they would be willing to be part of mine them… Either way, I enjoy the time I spend with them… so maybe that’s enough?”

Khopesh shrugs as he and Claude swim back the way they came and Claude nods, “the future is not set.”

“Well aside from you coming to more Crab sings! If you’ve got any sense that should be set.” Khopesh points out.

Claude nods and laughs, “That’s true! I will definitely come to  more crab sings! That was fun, and I wouldn’t turn down free crabs.”

[abyssal-zone]

Name: Ondine , Nerida , Lorelei

Age: 27 yo

Pronouns: She/Her , Sie/Sier , Sea/Sear , Mer/Mers

Gender: Lunarian , Mergender

Xeno Vibes: Mermaids , The Ocean , Seashells

Orientation: Pansexual Lesbian

Other IDs: Femme

Species: Beta Fish Merfolk

Role(s): Interest holder , Beauheur , Comforter

Aesthetic(s): Mermaidcore , Auroracore , Pearly

Interests/likes: Swimming , Seashell Collecting , Crystals

Dislikes: Being in large crowds

Kins: Crabs , The Moon

Emojis: 🧜‍♀️🌊

Details:

Ondine is a merfolk with pastel pink and purple scales with a pearly shimmer. She enjoys comforting others in the system, singing to them gently.

[the-most-humble-blog]

🎈🥳🎉 NECROMUNDA’S GREAT CORPSE-STARCH BAKE-OFF – WHERE FLAVOR GOES TO DIE 🍞

⚠️"That’s not mold, that’s extra protein."

Welcome, hungry citizens and unfortunate onlookers, to the most gut-wrenching culinary event of the millennium! This is Necromunda’s most prestigious—and only—baking competition, where contestants battle it out with ingredients scavenged from sump tunnels, dead-end alleys, and the back of an Escher gang’s pantry.

Your stomach lining won’t survive, but hey, neither will half the contestants!

🔪 "MENU" – IF YOU CAN CALL IT THAT…

🔥 Deep-Fried Promethium Twinkies – For those who think regular heart disease just isn’t lethal enough. Engine grease-glazed and flash-fried in unfiltered sump oil, this delight doubles as a makeshift incendiary device if dropped too hard.

🦴 Corpse-Starch Crème Brûlée – A "luxury" dessert for the hive elite… still tastes like your ancestors but with extra crunch from the caramelized layer of suspiciously sourced bone dust.

⚠️ Cinderblock Loaf Challenge – A single loaf weighs five kilograms, requires an industrial buzzsaw to cut, and is certified by local Arbites as an "emergency riot-control implement." The first contestant to take a bite without dental loss wins… nothing. You’re already suffering.

💀 FESTIVAL "HIGHLIGHTS" – AKA PUBLIC HEALTH NIGHTMARES

🚔 The Arbites’ Raid Speedrun – How long can the illegal vendors evade a baton to the skull? Betting pools are open, and anyone caught selling rat-on-a-stick without a permit gets free corrective head trauma!

🥧 Mystery Pie Contest – Guess the filling correctly, get a free one! Guess wrong? You still have to eat it. Past winners have successfully identified:

"Recycled" sump-crab

At least 3 different kinds of xeno meat

Something still screaming when the pie was cut open

🤮 Stomach Purge Bingo – If ten people vomit consecutively, you win a free med-pack! Bonus round if someone spontaneously combusts!

📢 "IMPORTANT" ATTENDEE NOTICES:

⚠️ Only one death per household allowed. ⚠️ Any contestant found using actual, safe ingredients will be flogged and exiled. ⚠️ Local hive authorities are not responsible for cardiac arrests, teeth shattered on corpse-starch, or deep-fried plasma burns.

🔥 REBLOG if you'd risk it all for some hive-baked horrors!

💬 COMMENT with your worst food experience—bet it’s nothing compared to this.

🚀 FOLLOW for more hive city horrors, culinary nightmares, and Imperial-approved suffering.

[headmate-ideas]

a headmate whom helps the system reconnect with their spirituality and worship? perhaps based around the leviathan.

emojis: 👁🌊🐚🔮💙🖤

[Brought to you by: Mods Vyvian and Tozek!]

👁 HEADMATE TEMPLATE 🐚

✦ Name(s): Lrrh'peth, Thollius, Vel ✦ Pronouns: it/its, they/them, x/xs/xself, void/voids/voidself, 👁/👁s/👁self ✦ Species: eldritch sea monster ✦ Age: ageless ✦ Role(s): spiritual headmate, cassmate, manager, protector, assidumate ✦ Labels: kenochoric, spiritine, unlabeled orientation ✦ Xenos: the ocean, magic, eyes ✦ Interests/likes: deep ocean, wizards, architecture ✦ Dislikes: being interrupted ✦ Music taste: drone metal, darksynth, dark ambient ✦ Aesthetic(s): brutalism, ocean grunge, fantasy aesthetic ✦ Objectum attraction(s): seashells, crystals ✦ Kins: the void, hermit crabs, dragons ✦ Emoji proxy: 👁🐚 ✦ Details:

Lrrh'peth is an eldritch sea monster that resembles a cross between a blue whale and a viper with eyes all over it. It is deeply spiritual and follows all of the practices of the system. This includes worship, prayer, observing spiritually significant days, divination, and rituals (especially protective ones), whichever apply to the system. It also takes notes about the system's spirituality, believing it is very important to have things written down and documented. Lrrh'peth does not have a wide emotional range outside of its passion for its spirituality and does not find that it is strongly affected by the things that upset the system. This includes a tendency to front during high-stress situations. While it predominantly enjoys writing and managing things related to spirituality, it enjoys other things like filling out SimplyPlural and doing mundane tasks.

[These can be edited and changed as needed, and headmates will almost definitely not turn out EXACTLY as described.]

[mantra-repeated]

Weeds based plural terms (Part 2)

Pt: Weeds based plural terms (Part 2) :End pt

Aka plants that are classified as weeds, such as milk weed, crab grass, thistles, dandelions, etc, and not the weed you smoke, for clarity.

Weedsomora

Pt: Weedsomora :End Pt

An orma (Link) subterm for a headmate origin that in some way relates to weeds.

Weedsdawn

Pt: Weedsdawn :End Pt

A (xeno) dawn (link) subterm for sisasystem / subsystem / cluster / etc that formed in someway from weeds or is related to weeds

Weedstien

Pt: Weedstien :End Pt

An tien (Link) subterm which a plural group's functions, structure, or other features can be in someway be described by weeds. This could be such as having headmates pop up "Like weeds", where certain parts of the headspace have to be "Uprooted" at times, as well as in many other ways as determined by the user.

Weedsimpacted

Pt: Weedsimpacted :End Pt

An impacted (Link) subterm to describe how weeds impact everything in a whole plural group equally. It can be described as a blanket, with weeds swaddling the system.

Mentions / tags: @radiomogai, @system-term-archive, @pluralitywords, @system-n-nonhuman-archive

Banner transcript: This term was made by an Endogenic. Anyone can use it however (So don't repost or recoin) :End Transcript

[cellarspider]

21/30 Tales from the Crypt

(Previous) | (Index) | (Next)

⛬

We return to that movie that the crabs shall dance for when it is done, Prometheus.

This time, the movie decided it needed a zombie mutant in it for some reason. Content warning for half-hearted body horror and gore.

I’m sure maybe half of a person out there was wondering “Hey, what happened to Fifield the geologist?” Well, the crew certainly wasn’t wondering that. They’re quite surprised when his suit camera feed shows up right outside the ship. Janek says it “just popped up” but why the hell would it. Fifield didn’t turn it back on, that much is obvious. Did the plot flip the switch or something?

In any case, Fifield has taken up a new career since we last saw him. He is now a contortionist.

This confuses the nameless crew guy. This is a very weird way to announce your new hobby to your coworkers.

Seriously, like. This is just an extreme backbend. It was probably done with prosthetics since they needed a body for this guy later anyway, but there are people who can just do this. Look, here’s a woman named Anna McNulty, doing this exact pose. It’s way weirder-looking when the person’s in motion! Again: not scary, just weird!

Contortionists are a thing in horror movies and shows. The explanation given always boils down to “they look uncanny and inhuman when they pretzel themselves, thus they are scary.” That isn’t really the case.

It still takes acting ability to make contortionism scary. Combine that with unsettling effects and you can get something memorably spooky, even when the rest of the movie isn’t that great. Javier Botet’s performance in Mama (2013), for example, was enhanced by his own acting decisions, the costuming, CG, and also practical puppetry of his body so that he could be supported in positions that felt unnaturally weightless.

Even if you’re lacking good direction or acting skills, makeup can still put in a lot of work to get you something freaky. And this makeup is… not their best.

Not in terms of quality of workmanship, but in terms of the concept itself. The creature department made a whole bunch of draft sculpts that looked way more xeno-y. Those were rejected. Instead, he’s got a big lumpy head. He looks like he wandered out of The Hills Have Eyes: Part II.

[Video description: A trailer for The Hills Have Eyes: Part II (1984). It’s complete schlock, and it’s got a big guy with a big prosthetic forehead in it, and he smashes people. There’s an off-brand Darth Vader breathing noise for some reason.]

Really, this design is straight out of a few sub-genres of horror I could mention: The Hills Have Eyes comes from cannibal and/or hillbilly horror (also called hixploitation), which often features deformed or mutated antagonists. Nuclear, infection, and chemical-scarred mutants are common lumpy monsters in horror, from 50s B-movies to Troma splatter films to modern “torture porn”. Video games tend to follow Resident Evil’s lead and make the lumpiest creatures zombies, while also making them WMD mutants and/or backwoods types, hello Marguerite and Jack Baker.

Obviously, Fifield’s been mutated by the black goo, adding to the list of things it’s capable of that the movie failed to set up before now. I will attempt to follow the ideas this may be attempting to throw at us, but I want it noted, this takes work.

This man has been exposed to a biochemical weapon, created by the Engineers. They were stockpiling that weapon here with the intent to use it on Earth. God decided rainbows aren’t a covenant anymore, time for Noah Part 2: Even Drownier.

But the Engineers are not gods in the christian sense, they aren’t all-powerful, and they are not beings that anyone would assert are omnibenevolent. They are another intelligent, social humanoid species with their own culture and morality. What moral standards do the Engineers have that produce a later scene, where one of them will look unsettled by a display of inter-human violence, yet also intend to kill every human? Humans are in some ways their descendants. What would be the right thing to do if your children became murderers? 

The movie doesn’t have to answer that, because there is no objectively right answer, but it also doesn’t present the issue very competently when it's having a mutant geologist pull wrestling moves.

[Video description: A short compilation of Macho Man Randy Savage doing the double axe handle.]

The questions that FIfield’s current state actually brought to me were more like this:

What horror sub-genre are we in? Is this a pastiche? Is it being done on purpose?

The answers, as far as I can tell, are “all of them,” “yes,” and “I have no idea.” I still don’t know. This is too bizarre a series of decisions to feel unintentional, and yet it’s pulled off with so little grace that it also feels like it can’t be intentional. It is Schrodinger’s Script, suspended in a state of both “hack job” and “competent hack job” until someone observes the movie and forms an opinion.

Speaking of being observed: these crew members. Boy. They sure are here, aren’t they.

There’s seventeen crew on the Prometheus, and a movie with strong characterization will make it so you can remember that many people, even if their roles are small and unnamed. Fellowship of the Ring (2001) manages to outdo that, for example. Before I started writing this, I could remember less than half the people onboard Prometheus.

So, obviously these guys exist to get destroyed before the miniboss fight is over.

It isn’t even that much of a scene. Mutated Fifield jumps around and wails on guys, the guys freak out and accidentally kill at least one other guy, and then FIfield gets run over by the transport. When this was originally filmed, it was going to be placed slightly later and Shaw would be the one driving it, but that wouldn’t have improved this any, to be honest.

So, great. We have killed a few more cast members for some reason. It fails as horror, and it fails as bloodsport. Good job everyone.

Next time, the horror anthology continues with our host, the Crypt Keeper.

Oh, sorry, that’s not what happens–I meant to say: “Next time, Peter Weyland wakes up”.

⛬

(Previous) | (Index) | (Next)

⛬

Citations for alt-text rambles:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KOlpoG-rZXI

[heaven-s-black-box]

Through a Mirror- ensemble

Return to File

Recovery date: July 5th, 2023

Description: Request by huntersmoon1 on tumblr: I have been inspired by inuyasha/yashahime! Can I request a scenario for tsukasa shishio as a demon (I’ll let you choose what kind of demon he is) in inuyashas world with his young half demon daughter. They get sucked through a portal into the stone world where Senku and the crew are (after stone world tsukasa gets revived) and demon tsukasa and his daughter meet stone world tsukasa and company.

Notes: This entry was recovered in conjunction with @huntersmoon1, we thank them for their contribution.

Word count: 996

Back to Directory

There is a theory that every decision spawns a new universe. These are called parallel universes, and if each decision spawns a new one they should, in theory, slowly become unique universes. For example, if Chrome throws a rock at Kohaku there is a universe where he doesn’t, and a universe where she throws the rock at him, and a universe where they don’t even exist.

Tsukasa thought drunk Senku was making things up. Maybe spent a bit too much time with Gen. How did he go from Chrome not throwing a rock to Chrome and Kohaku not existing? The scientist had passed out before he could ask, and Tsukasa didn’t care enough to ask later.

He’s starting to think he maybe should have.

“And this… machine… brought us here?”

“We’re still trying to figure out how,” Xeno said, flipping through his clipboard, “it was only designed to transfer data. Bringing physical beings here is a complete anomaly.”

Xeno looked up at the man and noticed Tsukasa out of the corner of his eye. He waved him over. “Tsukasa, thank you for coming.”

The man’s ears twitched, and his tail flicked aggressively, as he turned around to see the new arrival. His ears quickly flattened against his head, as he took up a defensive pose that Tsukasa matched just as quickly.

Xeno, who’d turned back to his clipboard, completely ignored the two as he spoke again.

“Tsukasa Shishio the human, meet Tsukasa Shishio the demon. Tsukasa Shishio the demon, meet Tsukasa Shishio the human.” He paused, looked up at something behind the demon Tsukasa, and spoke again, “Mirai, meet human Tsukasa.”

A young girl cautiously poked her head around the demon Tsukasa. The demon placed one hand protectively on her arm, keeping her tucked behind him, even as the human Tsukasa dropped his guard. Mirai gave a small wave before clutching Tsukasa’s cloak and hiding her face in it.

“Oh, Tsukasa, I see you’ve met our new friends,” Senku said, strolling up to them with a yawn.

“I suppose there’s an explanation for this?” Tsukasa asked, waving at the two doppelgangers.

“Magic.”

Now that was a word he never thought Senku would use.

“Magic?” Tsukasa raised an eyebrow suspiciously. “Can’t everything be explained with science?”

“Different universe, different rules.” Senku shrugged. “Anyways, you’re on diplomatic duty today. No one knows you, better than you after all.”

Without any further explanation, the two scientists headed off and left the three alone.

Tsukasa tried to look around the other Tsukasa, only for his view of Mirai to be blocked by the man’s tail. Mirai, in turn, went up on her toes to look over it, her ears twitching curiously. She stared at him intently for a moment before looking up at the demon Tsukasa.

“Papa,” Tsukasa’s eyes widened before scrunching up in confusion, “he smells like you.”

---

“So, she’s your sister in this world?” Shishio, the demon Tsukasa, asked, watching as his daughter and the other Mirai hunted for shells along the shore.

Suika had joined them, letting Chalk dig around in the mud and find hidden shells for the girls. She was positively thrilled at the idea of watching two Mirai’s as the two Tsukasa’s talked.

The human Tsukasa nodded. “And she’s your daughter?” Shishio nodded, watching as his daughter squealed and threw a shell as a crab crawled out. The two chuckled. “And her mother…”

He wasn’t really sure what he was asking. Was it someone he knew in this world? Did anyone from this stone world even exist in the other world? Maybe Mirai’s mother wasn’t even alive anymore.

“Never mi-”

“She’s no longer with us. She was human, and believe it or not Mirai is almost five hundred years old.”

“My sister is over three thousand, appearances can be deceiving.”

“For a world lacking in magic, it is quite impressive.” His light tone turned solemn as he asked, “Your Senku, how much faith do you have in him?”

“I owe him my life, he will do everything he can to return you both to your world.”

“Very well.” They fell into silence for a moment, watching the run away from the tide as it washed back up, before Shishio made another point. “This,” he waved at the two Mirais, “is incredibly strange.”

“Most definitely.” Tsukasa agreed, before the two started laughing at the absurdity of the situation.

“Big brother!” Mirai, the stone world Mirai, yelled, waving at the two. “Come play with us!”

---

By dinner time the two girls, and Suika, were completely exhausted to the point they were falling asleep at their table. They would slowly slump down until their heads knocked against each other and they startled awake again. Shishio had already draped his cloak around them, like a blanket, to keep the cool evening air out.

Tsukasa was pretty sure the half-demon Mirai was purring.

“They're so cute,” Ginro cooed, and startled the Mirais awake again, earning himself an elbow to the side from Kinro and a shush from Minami.

“If you’d like I can take them to bed,” Francois offered, removing their apron as they returned from delivering meals to the scientists.

“It’s alright, we’ll take them in a minute.”

“You know,” Yuzuriha said, “seeing you all fatherly isn’t as weird as I thought it would be.” The sharp look from the two Tsukasa’s made her jump as she rushed to explain herself. “I-I mean you take su-such good care of Mirai, I didn’t mean anything bad I swear.”

“She’s right,” Minami hummed, resting her chin on her palm. “It’s cute.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Tsukasa notices Shishio’s ears turn slightly red. Oh, he feels his face heat up as he coughs awkwardly.

“I think we should get these two to bed.”

“But you aren’t done your dinner?”

“It’s fine,” Tsukasa said, scooping his sister up as Shishio picked up his daughter with a  chuckle.

“If they aren’t gonna finish this, can I?”

“Ginro have some manners.”

[prisiidon]

WIP snippet of my Zora Xenomorph design where the head is inspired by a barrel-eye fish >:) major test of strength omfg. Zoramorph lore under cut if you haven't seen it yet!

The Zoramorph in botw/totk (insp from Xenomorphs/Aquamorphs):

• Located between the ocean twilight zone and midnight zone.

• Intelligent and primarily communicates through their own clicks on a frequency hard to pick up, (as well as screeching). The Zoramorph Queen’s hivemind telepathy has a hard time reaching this particular one though.

• While underwater, they have the usual xeno stealth, adaptability and speed while also dulling down their own bioelectric field, making them harder to detect unless they are nearby (dolphin or whale zora have a higher chance of detecting them further away)

• Echolocator with slightly improved Ampullae of Lorenzini, hearing and olfactory system than other zora

• Weakness: Since there’s no fire underwater, perhaps they’re weak to hydrovent blasts, sudden pressure change, or get weaker when out of water for too long.

• Like usual xenos, the zoramorph cannot be outrun unless you’re like a sailfish zora RIP

• If you mix acid and water, it pretty much combusts and boils. Since xeno blood is acid, it’ll be like bursts of boiling water when they’re underwater. Don’t swim through it! It may cause weapons to corrode.

• A favourite hunting ground when luring a zora is a large, dimly lit abandoned cavern system that was once a zora domain (underwater/airpocketed). They hide the exits.

• Tools useful as a distraction to flee would be aquatic plants/potions similar to puffshroom, muddlebud, dazzlefruit, bomb flower etc. Better if using an underwater bow with these. Also can be tripped out if pufferfish & dreamfish are used lol. (dolphins irl get high on pufferfish, dreamfish causes hallucinations).

• DO NOT GO OUT AT NIGHT. Common sense for zoras, as deep fish/seamonsters vertically travel to shallower waters to hunt at night. Zoramorphs may go higher up!

• Usual Queen, Drones, Warriors etc. Usual facehuggers and ovomorph eggs

• Facehuggers are like weird tailed crab-looking things that hide beneath the sand to latch on unsuspecting victims. These facehuggers are only in deep water.

• This one helped destroy a nearby zora domain but fuckd up the orders. He also cannot be bothered on occasion, and not as good at being as sneaky as the others.

• Another zoramorph colony hijacked his colony and killed their Queen, assimilating them into theirs.

• If it suits, they will cooperate with outside forces against a common enemy or in survival circumstances. This is very rare. But he would like to get back at the enemy Queen that took over, as his original Queen was nice to him :')))

• Ship sinkers

• Their semi-translucent heads look like shark skulls or barrel-eye fish underneath

[mammaonii]

on the topic of xeno queen, big bbboby is pretty badass and all, but have you considered getting smooshed against her carapace?

For those who don't know a carapace is the hard upper shell of things like turtles, spiders or crabs.

Tbh that would be hot AF and I would thank her

[muses-of-the-memory]

"Oh no!" Melody shouted coming to the table where Sebastian had landed in the cake. "Dat's it! I'm booking meself on a cruise!" Sebastian said wiping the cake off him and blowing out the candle on his head. "I'm so sorry." Melody apologized as the boy was going to turn to her. "Well, I should say..."

"Are you okay, Sebastian?" Melody asked. "So..." The boy spoke seeing Melody's true colors, speaking to sea creatures. "Who is she talking to?" One of the girls spoke unable to keep a straight face to Melody's humiliation. "She's talking to a crab!" A short boy spoke to another as the crowd started to laugh at Melody. Chef Louis wiped his face until he saw Sebastian.

"YOU!" He growled seeing the crab who escaped him. "You..." Sebastian whimpered. "SABOTEUR!" Chef Louis shouted going after Sebastian as everyone laughed at Melody, and Grimsby puts his hands on his forehead, shaking his head in dismay about the situation. All of a sudden, Unversed, creatures of negative emotions started to come out and try to strike at Melody.

"Unversed! They must be coming from Melody's negative emotions of her being laughed at!" Chronoa shouted from the Time Nest. "Zizzi, protect Melody so she can get away!" Xeno Trunks instructed.

Zizzi had been given a gift box before she had been sent on this mission. A little confused as she would look at it. Before she was teleported in front of a castle that looked familiar to her. She soon looked excited as she ran inside to look around. (Ariel)

Zizzi was in Prince Eric's castle. After Ursula the Sea Witch was defeated, Ariel was married to Eric. Now, there was a wall built around the castle, to keep their daughter, Melody from going to the sea since Morgana, Ursula's sister was in hiding, wanting to avenge her sister.

Now it was her 12th Birthday, and Ariel was looking for Melody. "Melody? Melody?" Ariel called out. "Oh, Carlotta, have you seen Melody?" She asked to the castle maid. "Not since this morning, Your Majesty." Carlotta said shaking her head.

"Oh hello, Zizzi." Ariel greeted.

@bluemajingirl

[headmate-ideas]

Heyy!! Could we request a pack for a headmate to help another headmate with managing his anger?? Anything you think would fit is okay!!

Emojis that might fit because I’m bad with words!!

🌊🦐🐟🏖️☀️🐚🐠🐬🐳

Thank you!!

[Brought to you by: Mods Venn and Dove!]

🏖️ HEADMATE TEMPLATE 🐬

✦ Name(s): Davey, Ellis, Alex ✦ Pronouns: he/him, they/them, ey/em/eir/eirs/emself, vi/vir/virs/virself ✦ Species: human ✦ Age: 21 ✦ Role(s): emotion manager, caretaker, replacer, communicator, socializer, confidence holder, happiness holder ✦ Labels: romeric, neutrois, xenoboy ✦ Xenos: the ocean, the sun, music ✦ Interests/likes: beach sports, dogs, tacos ✦ Dislikes: cloudy days ✦ Music taste: indie rock, classic rock, surf rock ✦ Aesthetic(s): ocean grunge, beach aesthetic, rainbowcore ✦ Kins: dolphins, angelfish, hermit crabs ✦ Emoji proxy: 🏖️🐬 ✦ Details:

Davey is an upbeat and sunny young man who has a relaxed and laid-back attitude towards life. He is calm in the face of stressors, and things that tend to make other headmates angry do not phase him. Where it comes to anger holders, with one in particular who is Davey's friend, he is good at reminding them to practice coping skills, verbally checking in with them to help them calm down, and taking the front for them when the anger is very overwhelming. Davey is good at communicating and deescalating conflicts, both inside and outside the system. They are very social and friendly, especially with new people, and they are very confident in their social abilities. They are very interested in aquatic life and like spending time at beaches and aquariums.

[These can be edited and changed as needed, and headmates will almost definitely not turn out EXACTLY as described.]

[mantra-repeated]

Weeds based plural terms

Pt: Weeds based plural terms:End pt

Aka plants that are classified as weeds, such as milk weed, crab grass, thistles, dandelions, etc, and not the weed you smoke, for clarity.

Weedsipsese

Pt: Weedsipsese :End Pt

an ipsese(Link) term for headmates who's identity, as a headmate, and self feel intertwined with weeds. They are not inherently sourced from it but can be.

Weedsego

Pt: Weedsego :End Pt

A term within the ego system(link). A term and flag for headmates whose identity & existence feels or appear to be intertwined with weeds, but are not sourced from it, although they may appear to be.

Weedsbased

Pt: weedsbased :End Pt

A term for a plural group that is based in or on weeds, with it possibly affecting the structure, innerworld, or the headmates themselves.

Weedsxerole

Pt: Weedsxerole :End Pt

a xenorole(Link) where a headmate's role is best described by or is somehow related to weeds

Weedsgenic

Pt: Weedsgenic :End Pt

a xeno-origin(link) for plural group or headmates formed or strongly influenced by weeds.

Weedsepectic

Pt: Weedsepectic :End Pt

An Epectic(link) term for a plural group that metaphorically/figuratively formed because of weeds in some way.

Mentions / Tags: @radiomogai, @system-term-archive, @pluralitywords, @system-n-nonhuman-archive

Banner transcript: This term was made by an Endogenic. Anyone can use it however (So don't repost or recoin) :End Transcript

[sitting-on-me-bum]

Porcelain Crab.

Ambon, Indonesia - Maluku archipelago

By Bill Van Antwerp

Butt Crab

Xeno Crab

Fairy Crab